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diff --git a/51964-0.txt b/51964-0.txt index 805b03a..fbc58ee 100644 --- a/51964-0.txt +++ b/51964-0.txt @@ -1,8633 +1,8236 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Georgian Pageant, by Frank Frankfort Moore
-
-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: A Georgian Pageant
-
-Author: Frank Frankfort Moore
-
-Illustrator: Various
-
-Release Date: May 2, 2016 [EBook #51964]
-Last Updated: March 13, 2018
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GEORGIAN PAGEANT ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by David Widger from page images generously
-provided by the Internet Archive
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-A GEORGIAN PAGEANT
-
-By Frank Frankfort Moore
-
-With Illustrations
-
-London: Hutchinson & Co. Paternoster Row
-
-1908
-
-
-
-
-THE WRITER'S APOLOGY
-
-THE greater number of the papers in this series, dealing with some
-well-known persons and incidents of the latter half of the Eighteenth
-Century, are the practical result of a long conversation which the
-writer had with the late Professor J. Churton Collins upon a very
-memorable occasion. The writer ventured to contend that the existing
-views respecting the personality of Oliver Goldsmith, of Henry Thrale,
-of James Boswell, of Samuel Johnson, and of some others whom he named,
-were grossly erroneous; as were also the prevalent notions respecting
-such matters as Fanny Burney's attendance upon the Queen, the “romance”
- of the Gunnings, and the “elopement” of Richard Brinsley Sheridan with
-Elizabeth Linley. If Professor Churton Collins had not urged upon
-the writer the possible interest attaching to the expression of some
-opinions unbiassed by those conservators of the conventional who have
-dealt with the same period, every one of them being as careful as
-Indians on the warpath to tread in the footsteps of the man preceding
-him, he would not have the courage to set forth his views in the form
-they now assume.
-
-The non-controversial papers in the series may increase the light and
-shade in the sketches of this very humble Georgian Pageant. The romance
-of Lady Susan Fox-Strangways naturally took the shape of a “regulation”
- story. The details are absolutely correct.
-
-On the very day the writer meant to keep the promise he made to
-Professor Churton Collins, by sending him the completed proofs of this
-book, the melancholy news of his death was published--an irreparable
-loss to the Literature of English Criticism.
-
-
-
-
-THE MONARCH OF THE PAGEANT
-
-On the morning of February 2nd, 1789, a lady was taking a solitary
-stroll in Kew Gardens. She was a small person, of dainty features, with
-a dimple on each side of her mouth that suggested a smile, varying,
-perhaps out of compliment to the variations of the people with whom
-she came in contact in her daily life, and shifting doubtless with
-the movements of the folk of her fancy through her quick brain, but
-remaining a smile all the time. There was about her a good deal of that
-doll-like primness which is so pretty an accompaniment of a person of
-small stature; but with this particular person it had--not quite, but
-almost--the additional charm of dignity. One could at all times see that
-she was making a highly intellectual attempt to be dignified; but that
-she was not really dignified at heart. One could see that she had too
-fine a sense of humour to be thoroughly dignified; and it may be that
-some of her closest observers--her closest observers were her greatest
-admirers--perceived now and again that she had a full sense of the
-humour of her efforts in the direction of dignity. She had large eyes,
-but being very short-sighted, she had a habit of half closing them when
-looking at anything or any one further away from her than ten feet. But
-somehow it was never suggested that the falling of her lids brought a
-frown to her face.
-
-She was a quick walker at all times; but on this winter day the slowest
-would have had little temptation to dawdle. The usual river mist was
-thrusting up a quivering cold hand among the gaunt trees of the water
-boundary of the Gardens, and here and there it flitted like a lean
-spectre among the clipped evergreens of the shrubberies. There was a
-maze of yew hedges, in the intricacies of which one mist-spectre had
-clearly got lost; and the lady, who had some imagination, could see,
-as she hurried past, the poor thing's wispy head and shoulders flitting
-about among the baffling central walks. (A defective eyesight is
-sometimes a good friend to the imagination.) And all the while she was
-hurrying along the broad track she was looking with some measure of
-uneasiness through her half-closed eyes down every tributary walk that
-ran into the main one, and peering uneasily down every long artificial
-vista that Sir Thomas Chambers, the Swedish knight and landscape
-gardener, had planned, through the well-regulated boskage, with an
-imitation Greek temple or Roman villa at the end. Approaching the
-widening entrance to each of these, she went cautiously for a few
-moments until she had assured herself on some point. Once she started
-and took a step backward, but raising the lorgnette which she carried,
-and satisfying herself that the group of men a hundred yards down one of
-the vistas was composed wholly of gardeners, she resumed her stroll.
-
-Whatever slight apprehension may have been on her mind had vanished by
-the time she had half completed the circuit made by the main walk.
-She had reached one of the mounds which at that time were covered with
-rhododendrons, and paused for a moment to see if there was sign of a
-bud. A blackbird flew out from among the dense leafage, and she followed
-it with her eyes as well as she could while she walked on, crossing the
-narrow path that led to the seats on the mound. But at the moment of
-crossing she was startled out of her senses by the sound of a shout from
-some distance down this path--a loud shout followed by several others
-rather less imperative. She gave a little exclamation of terror, raising
-her muff to her face. Glancing in the direction whence the commotion
-was coming, she gave another cry, seeing a tall man rush toward her with
-outstretched arms--waving arms, frantically beckoning to her while he
-shouted:
-
-“Miss Burney! Miss Burney!”
-
-She waited no longer. She turned and fled along the broad walk, making
-for one of the many labyrinths not so very far away, and after her ran
-the man, still shouting and gesticulating. She could hear the sound of
-his feet and his voice behind her, as well as the cries of the other
-men who were endeavouring to keep pace with him. On they came, and there
-flashed through her active brain, in spite of the horrible apprehension
-which thrilled through every nerve in her body, as she doubled back
-upon the path which she had just traversed, the lines written by Dr.
-Goldsmith and often quoted by her friend Dr. Johnson:
-
- A hare whom hounds and horns pursue,
-
- Pants to the place from whence at first he flew.
-
-She realised, all too painfully, the feelings of the poor hare at that
-moment. She longed for a friendly earth to open up before her. They were
-behind her--those wild huntsmen, one hoarsely yelling to her she knew
-not what, the others, more shrill, shouting to her to stop.
-
-She was too frightened to think of obeying any of them. On she ran,
-and it seemed that she was increasing the distance between her and her
-panting pursuers, until one of them, having better wind, managed to
-shoot ahead of the others, and to get close enough to say in a voice
-that was not all gasps:
-
-“Madam, madam, the doctor begs you to stop!” She glanced over her
-shoulder, still flying.
-
-“No, no, I cannot--I dare not!” she gasped.
-
-“Madam, you must--you must: it hurts the King to run!” cried the man.
-
-Then she stopped. The man, an ordinary attendant, stood in front of her.
-He was more breathless than Miss Burney.
-
-“The doctor, madam,” he faltered, “'twas the doctor--he thought at first
-that His Majesty was--was--but that was at first--now he says you must
-please not lead His Majesty on--'tis all too much for him. Save us! How
-you did go, madam! Who would ha' thought it?”
-
-She was paying no attention to him. Her eyes were fixed upon the group
-of men who were recovering their breath while they walked slowly
-toward her. The King was between his two physicians--not Physicians in
-Ordinary; just the contrary--the two physicians who had been
-summoned from Lincolnshire by some person in authority who possessed
-intelligence--it should surely be easy to identify such a man at the
-Court of George III--when, some months earlier, His Majesty gave signs
-of losing his mental balance. They were the Willises, father and son,
-the former a clergyman, who was therefore all the more fully qualified
-to deal with a mind diseased--such a case as was defined as needing more
-the divine than the physician. The King was between the father and his
-son, but neither of them was exercising any ostentatious or officious
-restraint upon him. One of them was smiling while he said some
-reassuring words to the Royal patient; the other was endeavouring to
-reassure little Miss Burney from a distance.
-
-And it seemed that the intentions of both were realised, for His Majesty
-was smiling as benignly as was ever his wont, and little Miss Burney
-took her courage in both hands and boldly advanced to meet her
-Sovereign. (She had been for three years the Queen's “Dresser.”) But
-when they met, after the King had cried, “Why did you run away from me,
-Miss Burney?” it appeared that the process of reassuring the King had
-been but too effectually accomplished, for before the lady could frame a
-diplomatic reply to his inquiry, he had enwound her in his paternal arms
-and kissed her heartily on the cheek, greatly to her confusion and (she
-pretends) to her horror. The two doctors stood placidly by. They, poor
-things, being quite unaccustomed to the ways of the immediate entourage
-of the Court of George III--though they had doubtless heard something
-of the practices that prevailed at the Courts of His Majesty's lamented
-grandfather and great-grandfather--seemed under the impression that
-there was nothing unusual in this form of salutation. For all they knew
-it might be regarded as _de rigueur_ between a monarch and the ladies of
-his consort's retinue. Even Dr. Willis, the divine, took a tolerant view
-of the transaction. He, as Miss Burney afterwards recorded, actually
-looked pleased!
-
-But, of course, the prim little lady herself was overwhelmed--yes, at
-first; but soon her good sense came to her rescue. She seems to have
-come with extraordinary rapidity to the conclusion that the King was
-not so mad as she had believed him to be. Her train of reasoning was
-instinctive, and therefore correct: the King had put his arms about her
-and kissed her when he had the chance, therefore he could not be so mad
-after all.
-
-In truth, however, Fanny Burney took the view of her treatment that any
-sensible modest young woman would take of it. She knew that the King,
-who had been separated for several months from the people whom he had
-been daily in the habit of meeting, had shown in the most natural way
-possible his delight at coming once more in contact with one of them.
-
-And undoubtedly the homely old gentleman was delighted beyond measure to
-meet with some one belonging to his happy years--a pleasanter face than
-that of Mrs. Schwellenberg, the dreadful creature who had made Fanny
-Burney's life miserable. It is not conceivable that the King would have
-kissed Mrs. Schwellenberg if he had come upon her suddenly as he had
-upon Miss Burney. People prefer silver rather than iron links with a
-happy past. He was so overjoyed, that the divine and the physician in
-attendance soon became anxious. They could not know much of all that
-he talked about to Miss Burney. They were in the position of strangers
-suddenly introduced to a family circle, and understanding nothing of the
-little homely secrets--homely topics upon which all the members of the
-circle have laughed together for years.
-
-They possibly could not see much sense in his long and rambling chat--it
-must have been largely in monologue--but they must have observed the
-face of the lady who was listening to him, and known from the expression
-which it wore that their patient was making himself intelligible. Only
-now and again they thought it prudent to check his exuberance. They must
-have been the most intelligent of men; and their names deserve to stand
-high in the annals of their country. At a time when the scientific
-treatment of the insane had not even begun to be formulated--when to
-be mentally afflicted meant to be on a level with felons and to be
-subjected to such repressive treatment as was afforded by the iron of
-the fetters and the hiss of the whipcord--at a time when a lust for
-office could make a statesman like Burke (a statesman who caused
-multitudes to weep in sympathy with his harangue on the sufferings
-of Marie Antoinette) refer to the King as having been “hurled by the
-Almighty from his throne” (in order to give the Opposition a chance of
-jumping into place and power over his prostrate body)--at such a time
-as this Dr. Willis and his two sons undertook the treatment of the King,
-and in the face of much opposition from the place-hunters in the Prince
-of Wales's pack, succeeded in restoring their patient to the palace
-which his happy nature had transformed into a home for every one
-dwelling under its roof.
-
-They stood by for some time after the King had greeted Miss Burney; and
-when he began to speak to her of topics that had a purely domestic
-ring they showed their good taste, as well as their knowledge of the
-peculiarities of their “case,” by moving away to a little distance,
-signalling to their attendants to do the same. Their discrimination must
-have been highly appreciated by the King. The poor restless mind had
-long wanted such a good long talk with a sympathetic listener, who, he
-knew, could understand every allusion that he might make to the past.
-He yearned to talk and to hear of such things as some one living in a
-distant land looks forward to finding in a letter from home. The _res
-angusta domi_--that was what he was hungering for--the trivial things in
-which he delighted--the confidences on simple matters--the sly everyday
-jests, never acutely pointed even to the family circle, but absolutely
-pointless to every one outside, yet sounding so delightfully witty when
-repeated as a sign of a happy intimacy of the past!
-
-Little Miss Burney had never imagined a scene like that in which
-she played an insignificant part at the moment, but one of enormous
-importance for posterity. She had, a few years before, been placed upon
-the porphyry pedestal which is reserved in England for the greatest
-woman writer of the generation. Seated there quite complacently, without
-reflecting upon the possibility of her pedestal becoming a trifle
-rickety, she had clasped her novel _Evelina_ to her bosom, and received,
-without her head being in the least turned, the adulation--respectful
-in some cases, almost passionate in others--of the most notable men
-and women in the most intellectual and artistic society in England.
-Dr. Samuel Johnson, who was not disposed to overrate the merits of any
-writer whom the world had praised, was kissing her hands, and Richard
-Brinsley Sheridan was kissing her feet; Sir Joshua Reynolds was kissing
-the hem of her garments; while Edmund Burke was weaving a tinsel crown
-of rhetoric for her shapely head; but there were others equally great
-at that time who seemed to think that only a nimbus could give the
-appropriate finish to the little personage on the pedestal. The
-marvellous story of her success has been often told. It is more easily
-told than understood in the present day, the fact being that fashion in
-fiction is the most ephemeral of all human caprices, and Fanny Burney
-was essentially a fashion. She followed up the marvellous success of
-_Evelina_, after an interval of four years, with the natural success of
-_Cecilia_, and, after another four years, she retired from the brilliant
-world into the obscurity of the palace--the palace wardrobe. She had
-visited Mrs. Delany, and had been introduced (not presented) to the King
-and Queen, and the office of Queen's Dresser--Keeper of the Robes was
-the stately designation of a very humble service--becoming vacant, it
-was offered to Fanny Burney and accepted by her, acting on the advice
-of her father, who most certainly hoped that his own interests as a
-musician, fully qualified to become leader of the Royal Band, would
-be materially advanced when his daughter should become one of the
-Household.
-
-Reams of indignation have been published from time to time in respect of
-Dr. Burney's conduct in urging on his one brilliant daughter--the others
-were not brilliant, only mothers--to accept a post the duties of which
-could be discharged by any lady's maid with far more advantage to the
-Royal Consort than could possibly result from the ministrations of Fanny
-Burney. The world has been called on to bemoan the prudent indiscretion
-of the father, who did not hesitate to fling his gifted daughter's pen
-out of the window, so to speak, and thereby deprive the waiting world of
-some such masterpiece as _Camilla_--the novel which she published five
-years after her release from the burden of the Robes. There can be
-no doubt that the feeling which prevailed among the circle of the
-elect--the Reynoldses, the Burkes, and even the frigid Walpole--when
-it became known that Miss Burney's health was breaking down under
-the strain of her duties at the Court--she had about two hours' daily
-attendance of the most ordinary nature upon the Queen--was on the border
-of indignation. Every one affirmed that it was a disgrace for so lively
-a genius to be kept at the duties of a lady's maid. It was like turning
-the winner of the Oaks out to the plough. Edmund Burke, recalling his
-early approbation of the intentions of Dr. Burney in regard to his
-daughter, declared that he had never made so great a mistake in all
-his life; and we know that he made a few. These excellent people had no
-reason to speak otherwise than they did on this matter. All they knew
-was that the pen of the novelist who had given them so much pleasure had
-been (as they believed) idle for nearly nine years, five of which had
-been passed at the Court. That reflection was quite enough to rouse
-their indignation. But what can one say of the indignation on this point
-of a writer who actually made the fact of his being engaged on a review
-of the Diary of Fanny Burney--the incomparable Diary which she kept
-during her five years at Court--an excuse for turning the vials of his
-wrath upon her father, whose obstinacy gave her a chance of writing the
-most interesting chapter--the most accurate chapter--of History that was
-ever penned by man or woman?
-
-Macaulay wrote in all the fullness of his knowledge of what Fanny
-Burney had written. He knew that for four years after she had published
-_Cecilia_ her pen had been idle so far as fiction was concerned. He knew
-that for five years after her release from the thraldom of the Queen's
-closet she had published nothing; he himself felt it to be his duty to
-point out the comparative worthlessness of _Camilla_, the novel which
-she then gave to the world, not because she felt upon her the impulse of
-a woman of genius, but simply because she found herself in great need
-of some ready money. Macaulay does not disdain to go into the money
-question, showing (he fancies) how Dr. Burney had by his obstinacy
-deprived his gifted daughter of earning the large sum which she would
-assuredly have obtained by the writing of a novel in the time that
-she was compelled to devote to the Queen's _toilette_. He found it
-convenient to ignore the fact that of the fourteen years that elapsed
-between the publication of _Cecilia_ and that of _Camilla_ only five
-were spent at Court. Surely any born novelist could, without running
-a chance of imperilling a well-earned reputation by undue haste in the
-dialogue or by scamping the descriptive passages, contrive by dint of
-hard, but not over-hard, work to produce more than one complete romance
-within a space of nine years. Many ladies who are not born novelists
-have succeeded in surpassing this task without physical suffering.
-
-But even assuming that the author of _Evelina, Cecilia, and Camilla_
-lost not only time but money while she was at Court, how much money did
-she lose? She received at least the equivalent of £2000 for her five
-years' service, and she was granted a pension of £100 a year, which she
-drew for forty-nine years; so that for her enforced seclusion she was
-remunerated to the extent of close upon £7000! This sum represents more
-than all Fanny Burney's literary works yielded to her from the joyous
-youthful days of _Evelina_ down to the somewhat sordid middle age of
-_Camilla_.
-
-But what has the world gained by the lamentable short-sightedness
-attributed to Dr. Burney? How is one to estimate the value of that
-incomparable Diary so admirably “written up” during her tedious five
-years at Court? How many _Cecilias_, how many _Camillas_ would one not
-give in exchange for a single year of that part of the Diary which deals
-with the approach of the King's malady? In no work of fiction that ever
-came from her pen did she ever show such power of observation, not only
-of incident, but of character as well; nor is there apparent on any page
-produced by her imagination such perfect artistic effects as appeal to a
-reader on every page of this Diary of a disease.
-
-At the outset of her account of these dreadful days we are conscious
-of the vague approach of a shadow--we feel as if we were led into the
-darkened chamber of a haunted house. Our attendant pauses by our side,
-listening for strange noises; she lays a hand upon our arm, as it were,
-and speaks to us in a whisper. We feel that the dread Thing is coming.
-The King is indisposed--he has not been quite in his usual health for
-some time past; but of course nothing very alarming has been announced
-by Sir George Barker, the Physician in Ordinary, although there is an
-uncertainty as to His Majesty's complaint. But Miss Burney has seen the
-faces of the people about her who have come more closely in contact with
-the Sovereign; she has doubtless noticed the solemnity of some--the airs
-of mystery, the head-shakings, and she is capable of drawing her own
-conclusions. “Heaven preserve him!” she whispers in her Diary for
-October 19th, 1788. She is very much with the Queen, and she perceives
-that Her Majesty is extremely uneasy, though saying nothing. There is
-great alarm during the night. Possibly some one has heard the delirious
-voice of the King coming from his apartments in that tumbledown palace
-of his at Kew. The fright is general, and every one is wondering what
-the morning will bring forth. Hope comes with the light. The bulletin is
-that the King was ill, but is now so very much better that his physician
-believes the move to Windsor, to which the Court was looking forward,
-may be taken. The move is made on the 25th, and then Miss Burney has a
-chance meeting with the King that causes her to suspect the truth. He
-talks to her with unnatural vehemence--unnatural volubility--and without
-cessation for a long time; all is exaggerated, and his graciousness most
-of all. She has never met with anything like this before, but having
-heard of the delirium accompanying a high fever, she believes that His
-Majesty is in the throes of a fever.
-
-The next day is Sunday, and she meets him again in one of the passages,
-and she finds him rather more coherent in his talk, but still it is the
-talk of a man in the delirium of a fever. It is all about himself--his
-health--his dreadful sleeplessness. He keeps at it for half an hour
-without making the slightest pause; and yet he manages to convey to
-her an impression of his benevolence--his consideration for the people
-around him--his hopes that he may not cause them any uneasiness. When he
-leaves her she doubtless tells of the meeting to some of her friends in
-the apartments where the equerries are accustomed to meet, and doubtless
-there are more head-shakings and airs of mystery; but she records:
-“Nobody speaks of his illness, nor what they think of it.”
-
-Apparently, too, no one felt it to be necessary to subject His Majesty
-to any course of treatment, although, a few days later, he became
-so weak that he, who at the beginning of the year thought nothing of
-walking twelve miles at a stretch--more than his sons could do--hobbled
-along like a gouty man. Gradually, very gradually, the horror
-approaches; and nothing that has ever been done in fiction equals in
-effect the simple record of all that Fanny Burney noticed from day to
-day. Most touching of all her entries are those relating to the Queen.
-“The Queen,” she writes, “is almost overpowered with some secret
-terror. I am affected beyond all expression in her presence to see what
-struggles she makes to support her serenity. To-day she gave up the
-conflict when I was alone with her; and burst into a violent fit of
-tears. It was very, very terrible to see!... something horrible seemed
-impending... I was still wholly unsuspicious of the greatness of the
-cause she had for dread. Illness, a breaking up of the constitution, the
-payment of sudden infirmity and premature old age for the waste of
-unguarded health and strength--these seemed to me the threats awaiting
-her; and great and grievous enough, yet how short of the fact!”...
-
-At last the terrible truth was revealed. Miss Burney was dining with one
-of the Queen's ladies; but there was little conversation between them.
-It was clear that both had their suspicions of the nature of the dread
-shadow that was hovering over the castle. They remained together,
-waiting for the worst. “A stillness the most uncommon reigned over the
-whole house. Nobody stirred; not a voice was heard; not a motion. I
-could do nothing but watch, without knowing for what; there seemed a
-strangeness in the house most extraordinary.”
-
-To talk of such passages as these as examples of literary art would be
-ridiculous. They are transcripts from life itself made by some one with
-a genius for observation, not merely for recording. Boswell had a genius
-for recording; but his powers of observation were on a level with those
-of a sheep. We know perfectly well what his treatment of the scenes
-leading up to the tragedy of the King would have been. But Fanny Burney
-had the artist's instinct for collecting only such incidents as heighten
-the effect.
-
-When she is still sitting in the dim silence of that November evening
-with her friend some one enters to whisper that there was to be no
-playing of the after-dinner music in which the King usually took so much
-pleasure. Later on the equerries come slowly into the room. There is
-more whispering--more head-shaking. What was it all about? Had anything
-happened? What had happened? No one wishes to be the first to speak. But
-the suspense! The strain upon the nerves of the two ladies! At last it
-can be borne no longer. The dreadful revelation is made. The King is a
-madman!
-
-At dinner, the Prince of Wales being present, His Majesty had “broken
-forth into positive delirium, which long had been menacing all who
-saw him most closely; and the Queen was so overpowered as to fall into
-violent hysterics. All the princesses were in misery, and the Prince of
-Wales had burst into tears. No one knew what was to follow--no one could
-conjecture the event.” Nothing could be more pathetic than the concern
-of the King for his wife. His delusion is that she is the sufferer. When
-Fanny Burney went to her room, where she was accustomed to await her
-nightly summons to attend Her Majesty, she remained there alone for two
-hours. At midnight she can stand the suspense no longer. She opens the
-door and listens in the passage. Not a sound is to be heard. Not even
-a servant crossed the stairs on the corridor off which her apartment
-opened. After another hour's suspense a page knocks at her door with the
-message that she is to go at once to her Royal mistress.
-
-“My poor Royal Mistress!” she writes. “Never can I forget her
-countenance--pale, ghastly pale she looked... her whole frame was
-disordered, yet she was still and quiet. And the poor King is dreadfully
-uneasy about her. Nothing was the matter with himself, he affirmed,
-except nervousness on her account. He insisted on having a bed made
-up for himself in her dressing-room in order that he might be at hand
-should she become worse through the night. He had given orders that Miss
-Goldsworthy was to remain with her; but it seemed that he had no great
-confidence in the vigilance of any one but himself, for some hours
-after the Queen had retired he appeared before the eyes of the horrified
-lady-in-waiting, at the door, bearing a lighted candle. He opened the
-bed curtains and satisfied himself that his dread of her being carried
-out of the palace was unfounded; but he did not leave the room for
-another half-hour, and the terror of the scene completely overwhelmed
-the unhappy lady.”
-
-Truly when this terror was walking by night Fanny Burney's stipend was
-well earned. But worse was in store for her when it was decided that the
-King should be removed to Kew Palace, which he detested and which was
-certainly the most miserable of all the miserable dwelling-places of the
-Royal Family. It seemed to be nobody's business to make any preparation
-for the reception of the Queen and her entourage. The rooms were dirty
-and unwarmed, and the corridors were freezing. And to the horrors of
-this damp, unsavoury barrack was added Mrs. Schwellenberg, the German
-she-dragon who had done her best to make Fanny Burney's life unendurable
-during the previous three years. Formerly Fanny had dwelt upon the
-ill-treatment she had received at the hands of this old harridan;
-but now she only refers to her as an additional element of casual
-discomfort. The odious creature is “so oppressed between her spasms and
-the house's horrors, that the oppression she inflicted ought perhaps
-to be pardoned. It was, however, difficult enough to bear,” she adds.
-“Harshness, tyranny, dissension, and even insult seemed personified. I
-cut short details upon this subject--they would but make you sick.”
-
-Truly little Miss Burney earned her wages at this time. The dilapidated
-palace was only rendered habitable by the importation of a cartload of
-sandbags, which were as strategically distributed for the exclusion of
-the draughts as if they were the usual defensive supply of a siege. But
-even this ingenious device failed to neutralise the Arctic rigours of
-the place. The providing of carpets for some of the bare floors of the
-bedrooms and passages was a startling innovation; but eventually it was
-carried out. An occasional set of curtains also was smuggled into this
-frozen fairy palace, and a sofa came now and again.
-
-But in spite of all these auxiliaries to luxury--in spite, too, of Mrs.
-Schwellenberg's having locked herself into her room, forbidding any one
-to disturb her--the dreariness and desolation of the December at Kew
-must have caused Miss Burney to think with longing of the comforts of
-her father's home in St. Martin's Street and of the congenial atmosphere
-which she breathed during her numerous visits to the Thrales' solid
-mansion at Streatham.
-
-[Illustration: 0035]
-
-The condition of the King was becoming worse, and early whispers of
-the necessity for a Regency grew louder. It was understood that Mrs.
-Fitzherbert would be made a duchess! Everybody outside the palace sought
-to stand well in the estimation of the Prince of Wales, and Pitt was
-pointed out as a traitor to his country because he did his best
-to postpone the Comus orgy which every one knew would follow the
-establishing of a Regency. The appointment of the Doctors Willis was
-actually referred to as a shocking impiety, suggesting as it did a
-wicked rebellion against the decree of the Almighty, Who, according to
-Burke, had hurled the monarch from his throne. There were, however, some
-who did not regard Mr. Burke as an infallible judge on such a point, and
-no one was more indignant at the mouthings of the rhetorician than Miss
-Burney. But it seemed as if the approach of the Regency could no longer
-be retarded. The Willises were unable to certify to any improvement
-in the condition of the King during the month of January, 1789. It was
-really not until he had that chase after Fanny Burney in Kew Gardens
-that a change for the better came about.
-
-Though she was greatly terrified by his affectionate salutation,
-she could not but have been surprised at the sanity displayed in
-the monologue that followed; for one of the first of his innumerable
-questions revealed to her the fact that he was perfectly well aware of
-what a trial to her patience was the odious Mrs. Schwellenberg. He asked
-how she was getting on with Mrs. Schwellenberg, and he did so with a
-laugh that showed her how well he appreciated her difficulties in this
-direction in the past. Before she could say a word he was making light
-of the Schwellenberg--adopting exactly the strain that he knew would be
-most effective with Miss Burney.
-
-“Never mind her--never mind her! Don't be oppressed! I am your friend!
-Don't let her cast you down--I know that you have a hard time of it--but
-don't mind her!”
-
-The advice and the tone in which it was given--with a pleasant
-laugh--did not seem very consistent with what she expected from a
-madman. Fanny Burney appears up to that moment to have been under the
-impression that the King and Queen had known nothing of the tyranny and
-the insults to which she had been subjected by Mrs. Schwellenberg. But
-now it was made plain to her that the eyes of the Royal couple had been
-open all the time. If Macaulay had noticed the passage touching upon
-this point he would have had still stronger grounds for his attack upon
-their Majesties for their want of consideration for the tire-woman who
-was supposed never to be tired.
-
-But how much more surprised must Fanny Burney have been when the King
-went on to talk to her in the most cordially confidential way about her
-father! It must have been another revelation to her when he showed how
-fully he realised the ambitions of Dr. Burney. He asked her regarding
-the progress of the _History of Music_, at which Dr. Burney had been
-engaged for several years, and this gave him a chance of getting
-upon his favourite topic, the music of Handel. But when he began to
-illustrate some of his impressions on this fruitful theme by singing
-over the choruses of an oratorio or two--perhaps such trifles as “All we
-like Sheep,” or “Lift up your Heads,” or the “Hallelujah”--he must have
-gone far toward neutralising the good opinion she had formed as to his
-sanity. Fortunately the attendant doctors interposed at this point; but
-the fact that the distinguished amateur suffered their adverse criticism
-proves to posterity that the King was even more good-natured than he had
-been painted by Miss Burney.
-
-On then he went to talk of the subject which must never have been far
-from Dr. Burney's heart--the Mastership of the King's Band: “Your father
-ought to have had the post, and not that little poor musician Parsons,
-who was not fit for it,” he cried. “But Lord Salisbury used your father
-very ill in that business, and so he did me! However, I have dashed
-out his name, and I shall put your father's in--as soon as I get loose
-again. What has your father got at last? Nothing but that poor thing at
-Chelsea! Oh, fie! fie! But never mind! I will take care of him--I will
-do it myself!”
-
-Could he have given the devoted daughter of Dr. Burney a more emphatic
-proof of his complete recovery to sanity than this? Why, it would have
-convinced Dr. Burney himself!
-
-Alas! although the King may have been very resolute at the moment--he
-had just been making out a list of new officers of State, and was ready
-to show her that the name of her father's enemy, Lord Salisbury, was not
-to be found in it, and he assured her that in future he would rule with
-a rod of iron--yet before he returned to his ordinary way of life he
-must have mislaid his list, for poor Dr. Burney remained at his post of
-organist of Chelsea Hospital. He never attained to the place which
-he coveted and for which his daughter was sent to five years' Royal
-servitude, and (incidentally) to achieve for herself that immortality
-as a chronicler which would certainly never have been won by her as a
-novelist.
-
-But the King did not confine his conversation to the one topic which he
-knew was of greatest interest to her. He spoke of Mrs. Delany, who had
-been the means of introducing Fanny to the Royal circle; and he referred
-to the ill-treatment which he had received at the hands of one of his
-pages; but this was the only passage that savoured of unkindness, and
-the chronicler is unable to do more than hope that the conduct of the
-pages was one of His Majesty's delusions. Then, with what seems to us to
-be consummate adroitness, he put some questions to her which she could
-not but answer. “They referred to information given to him in his
-illness from various motives, but which he suspected to be false, and
-which I knew he had reason to suspect,” Miss Burney writes. “Yet was it
-most dangerous to set anything right, as I was not aware what might be
-the views of their having been stated wrong. I was as discreet as I knew
-how to be, and I hope I did no mischief: but this was the worst part of
-the dialogue.”
-
-We can quite believe that it was, and considering that it was the part
-of the dialogue which was most interesting to the King, we think that
-Miss Burney was to be congratulated upon the tact she displayed in her
-answers. She did not cause the King to be more perturbed than he was
-when waxing indignant over the conduct of his pages; and there was no
-need for Dr. Willis to interfere at this point, though he did a little
-later on. Then submitting with the utmost docility to the control of
-his excellent attendant, and with another exhortation not to pay any
-attention to the whims of the Schwellenberg, the gracious gentleman
-kissed her once more on the cheek and allowed her to take her departure.
-
-So ended this remarkable adventure in Kew Gardens. One can picture
-Fanny Burney flying to tell the Queen all that had occurred--to repeat
-everything that her discretion permitted her of the conversation; and
-one has no difficulty in imagining the effect upon Queen Charlotte
-of all that she narrated; but it seems rather hard that from Mrs.
-Schwellenberg should have been withheld the excellent advice given by
-the King to Miss Burney respecting the German virago.
-
-It would have been impossible either for Fanny Burney or the Queen
-to come to any conclusion from all that happened except one that was
-entirely satisfactory to both. King George III was undoubtedly on the
-high road to recovery, and subsequent events confirmed this opinion. It
-really seemed that the interview with the author of _Evelina_ marked the
-turning-point in his malady at this time. Every day brought its record
-of improvement, and within a fortnight the dreaded Regency Bill, which
-had been sent up to the Lords, was abandoned. On March 1st there
-were public thanksgivings in all the churches, followed by such an
-illumination of London as had not been seen since the great fire. The
-scene at Kew is admirably described by Miss Burney, who had written some
-congratulatory lines to be offered by the Princess Amelia to the King. A
-great “transparency” had been painted by the Queen's order, representing
-the King, Providence, Health, and Britannia--a truly British
-tableau--and when this was hung out and illuminated the little Princess
-“went to lead her papa to the front window.” Then she dropped on her
-knees and gave him the “copy of verses,” with the postscript:
-
- The little bearer begs a kiss
-
- From dear papa for bringing this.
-
-The “dear papa” took his dear child in his arms, and held her close to
-him for some time. Nothing could have been more charmingly natural and
-affecting. For such a picture of Royalty at home we are indebted to
-Fanny Burney, and, face to face with it, we are selfish enough to feel
-grateful to Dr. Burney for having given his daughter for five years
-to discharge a humble duty to her Sovereign and an immortal one to her
-fellow-countrymen, who have read her Diary and placed it on a shelf
-between Pepys and de Gramont.
-
-
-
-
-A COMEDY IN ST. MARTIN'S STREET
-
-DR BURNEY was giving a “command” party at his house in St. Martin's
-Street, Leicester Fields--the house which Sir Isaac Newton did
-once inhabit, and which was still crowned with the most celebrated
-observatory in Europe. In the early years of his musical career he had
-had a patron, Mr. Fulk Greville, who had done a great deal for him,
-and in later days he had never quite forgotten this fact, although
-Dr. Burney had climbed high on the professional as well as the social
-ladder, and was better known in the world than Mr. Greville himself. He
-had become quite intimate with many great persons and several curious
-ones. It is uncertain whether Mr. Greville regarded Dr. Johnson as
-belonging to the former or the latter class, but at any rate he had
-heard a great deal about Dr. Johnson, and did not think that, provided
-he took every reasonable precaution, any harm could come to himself from
-meeting such a notability. He accordingly instructed Dr. Burney to bring
-him and Johnson together, and Burney promised to do so. Before the day
-for this meeting was fixed Mrs. Greville--who, by the way, was Fanny
-Burney's godmother--had signified her intention of viewing the huge
-person also, and of bringing her daughter, the exquisite Mrs. Crewe, to
-attend the promised exhibition of genius in bulk.
-
-Of course Dr. Johnson was ready to lend himself to any plan that might
-be devised to increase the circumference of his circle of admirers, and
-besides, this Mr. Fulk Greville was a descendant of the friend of Sir
-Philip Sidney, and had large possessions, as well as a magnificent
-country seat, and altogether he would make a most desirable listener; so
-he agreed to come to the party to be inspected by the Greville family.
-Burney, however, wishing, as every responsible proprietor of a menagerie
-should wish, to be on the safe side and exhibit his bear under the eye
-and the controlling influence of his favourite keeper, invited Mr. and
-Mrs. Thrale to the party.
-
-These were to be the “principals” in the comedy of this entertainment;
-and for the subordinates he selected his married daughter and her
-husband--both admirable musicians--Mr. Davenant, Mr. Seward, and a
-certain Italian musician, a vocalist as well as a performer on the
-violin and that new instrument which was at first called the fortepiano,
-then the pianoforte, and later on simply the piano. This person's name
-was Gabrielli Piozzi.
-
-Such were the harmonious elements which Dr. Burney proposed to bring
-together for the gratification of Mr. Fulk Greville and his wife. Mr.
-Greville was an amateur of some little capacity, and he had certainly at
-one time been greatly interested in music. He had paid £300 to Burney's
-master, the celebrated Dr. Arne, who composed in the masque of “Alfred”
- the rousing anthem known as “Rule Britannia,” for the cancelling of
-Burney's indentures as an apprentice to the “art of musick,” and had
-taken the young man into his own house in a capacity which may best be
-described as that of entertaining secretary. Dr. Burney may therefore
-have thought in his wisdom that, should Johnson be in one of his
-bearish moods and feel disinclined to exhibit his parts of speech to
-Mr. Greville, the latter would be certain of entertainment from the
-musicians. This showed forethought and a good working knowledge of Dr.
-Johnson. But in spite of the second string to the musician's bow
-the party was a fiasco--that is, from the standpoint of a social
-entertainment; it included one incident, however, which made it the most
-notable of the many of the Burney parties of which a record remains.
-
-And what records there are available to any one interested in the
-entertainments given by Dr. Burney and his charming family at that
-modest house of theirs, just round the corner from Sir Joshua Reynolds'
-larger establishment in Leicester Fields! Hundreds of people who
-contributed to make the second half of the eighteenth century the most
-notable of any period so far as literature and the arts were concerned,
-since the spacious days of Elizabeth, were accustomed to meet together
-informally at this house, and to have their visits recorded for all ages
-to muse upon. To that house came Garrick, not to exhibit his brilliance
-as a talker before a crowd of admirers, but to entertain the children
-of the household with the buffooning that never flagged, and that
-never fell short of genius in any exhibition. He was the delight of the
-schoolroom. Edmund Burke and his brother, both fond of conversation when
-oratory was not available, were frequently here; Reynolds came with
-many of his sitters, and found fresh faces for his canvas among his
-fellow-guests; and with him came his maiden sister, feeling herself more
-at home with the simple Burney circle than she ever did with the company
-who assembled almost daily under her brother's roof. Nollekens, the
-sculptor; Colman, the dramatist and theatre manager, who was obliged to
-run away from London to escape the gibes which were flung at him from
-every quarter when Goldsmith's _She Stoops to Conquer_, which he had
-done his best to make a failure, became the greatest success of the
-year; Cumberland, the embittered rival of Goldsmith, who was the person
-who gave the solitary hiss during the first performance of the same
-play, causing the timid author to say to the manager on entering the
-playhouse, “What is that, sir--pray, what is that? Is it a hiss?” To
-which Colman replied, “Psha! sir, what signifies a squib when we have
-been sitting on a barrel of gunpowder all night?”
-
-These were among the notabilities; and the “curiosities” were quite as
-numerous. The earliest of Arctic voyagers, Sir Constantine Phipps, who
-later became Lord Mulgrave, put in an appearance at more than one of the
-parties; and so did Omai, the “gentle savage” of the poet Cowper, who
-was brought by Captain Cook from the South Seas in the ship on which
-young Burney was an officer. The sisters, who, of course, idolised the
-sailor, sat open-mouthed with wonder to hear their brother chatting away
-to Omai in his native language. Upon another occasion came Bruce, the
-Abyssinian traveller, who told the story of how steaks were cut from the
-live ox when needed by the inhabitants of one region. He was immensely
-tall, as were some of his stories; but though extremely dignified, he
-did not object to a practical joke. Another person of great stature who
-visited the Burneys was the notorious Count Orloff, the favourite of the
-Empress Catherine of Russia; and from the letters of one of the young
-people of the household one has no difficulty in perceiving with what
-interest he was regarded by the girls, especially since the report
-reached them that he had personally strangled his imperial master at the
-instigation of his imperial mistress.
-
-These are but, a few names out of the many on the Burneys' visiting
-list. Of course, as regards musical artists, the house was the
-rendezvous of the greatest in London. While the opera-house in the
-Haymarket was open there was a constant flow of brilliant vocalists to
-these shores, and the young people had many opportunities of becoming
-acquainted with the ignorance, the capriciousness, the affectations, and
-the abilities which were to be found associated with the lyric stage in
-the eighteenth century, as they are in the twentieth. Among the prime
-donne who sang for the Burneys were the Agujari--a marvellous performer,
-who got fifty pounds for every song she sang at the Pantheon--and her
-great but uncertain rival, Gabrielli. The former, according to Mozart,
-who may possibly be allowed to be something of a judge, had a vocal
-range which was certainly never equalled by any singer before or after
-his time. She won all hearts and a great deal of money during her visit
-to London, and she left with the reputation of being the most marvellous
-and most rapacious of Italians. Gabrielli seems to have tried to make up
-by capriciousness what she lacked in expression. Her voice was, so far
-as can be gathered from contemporary accounts, small and thin. But by
-judiciously disappointing the public she became the most widely talked
-of vocalist in the country. Then among the men were the simple and
-gracious Pacchierotti--who undoubtedly became attached to Fanny
-Burney--Rauzzini, and Piozzi.
-
-[Illustration: 0049]
-
-The Burneys' house was for years the centre of the highest intellectual
-entertainment to be found in London, and the tact of the head of the
-household, and the simple, natural manners of his daughters, usually
-succeeded in preventing the intrusion of a single inharmonious note, in
-spite of the fact that a Welsh harpist named Jones had once been among
-the visitors.
-
-But upon the occasion of this “command” party, when Greville was to meet
-Johnson, and the latter had dressed himself with that extreme care which
-we suspect meant that he tied up his hose, and put on a wig the front of
-which had not yet been burnt away by coming in contact with his lighted
-candle, Burney's tact overreached itself. Mr. Greville may have felt
-that the Thrales had no business to be of the party, or Johnson may have
-gained the impression that Burney's old patron was anxious to play the
-same part, in an honorary sort of way, in regard to himself. At any
-rate, he refused to be drawn out to exhibit his conversational powers
-to a supercilious visitor; and after a brief space of time he turned his
-back upon every one and his face to the fire, and there he sat, greatly
-to the discomfiture, no doubt, of his host. In a very short time a gloom
-settled down upon the whole party. Mr. Thrale, stiff and reserved, was
-not the man to pull things together. He sat mute on his chair, making no
-advance toward Mr. Greville, and Mr. Greville had probably his chin in
-the air, having come to the conclusion that Dr. Johnson's powers as a
-conversationalist had been greatly overrated by rumour.
-
-It was when all hope of sociability had vanished that Dr. Burney,
-who, when a church organist, may have had occasion to cover up the
-shortcomings of the clergyman by a timely voluntary, begged Signor
-Piozzi to oblige the company with a song. But Piozzi was a forlorn hope.
-He was the last man in the world to save the situation. Had he been a
-vocalist of the calibre of Pacchierotti he could have made no headway
-against the funereal gloom that had settled down upon the party.
-
-Piozzi had a sweet and highly trained voice, though some years earlier
-he had lost its best notes, and he sang with exquisite expression;
-but when playing his own accompaniment, with his back turned to his
-audience, he was prone to exaggerate the sentiment of the music until
-sentiment became lost in an exuberance of sentimentality.
-
-This style of singing is not that to which any one would resort in order
-to dissipate a sudden social gloom. As the singer went on the gloom
-deepened.
-
-It was just at this moment that one of those ironic little imps that
-lurk in wainscot nooks looking out for an opportunity to influence an
-unconscious human being to an act which the little demon, seeing the
-end of a scene of which mortals only see the beginning, regards with
-sardonic glee, whispered something in the ear of Mrs. Thrale, and in
-an instant, in obedience to its prompting, she had left her chair and
-stolen behind the singer at the piano. Raising her hands and turning
-up her eyes in imitation of Piozzi, she indulged in a piece of mimicry
-which must have shocked every one in the room except the singer, who had
-his back to her, and Dr. Johnson, who, besides being too short-sighted
-to be able to see her, was gazing into the grate.
-
-No doubt the flippant little lady felt that a touch of farcical fun
-was the very thing needed to make the party go with a snap; but such
-flagrant bad taste as was involved in the transaction was more than
-Dr. Burney could stand. Keeping his temper marvellously well in hand,
-considering his provocation, he went gently behind the gesticulating
-woman and put a stop to her fooling. Shaking his head, he whispered in a
-“half joke whole earnest” way:
-
-“Because, madam, you have no ear yourself for music, will you destroy
-the attention of all who, in that one point, are otherwise gifted?”
-
-Or words to that effect, it might be safe to add, for the phrases as
-recorded in the diary of one of his daughters are a trifle too academic
-for even Dr. Burney to have whispered on the spur of the moment. But he
-certainly reproved the lady, and she took his remonstrance in good part,
-and showed herself to be admirably appreciative of the exact pose to
-assume in order to save the situation. She went demurely to her chair
-and sat there stiffly, and with the affectation of a schoolgirl who has
-been admonished for a fault and commanded to take a seat in silence and
-apart from the rest of the class. It must be apparent to every one that
-this was the precise attitude for her to strike in the circumstances,
-and that she was able to perceive this in a rather embarrassing moment
-shows that Mrs. Thrale was quite as clever as her friends made her out
-to be.
-
-But regarding the incident itself, surely the phrase, “the irony of
-fate,” was invented to describe it. A better illustration of the sport
-of circumstance could not be devised, for in the course of time the
-lively little lady, who had gone as far as any one could go in making a
-mock of another, had fallen as deep in love with the man whom she mocked
-as ever Juliet did with her Romeo. She found that she could not live
-without him, and, sacrificing friends, position, and fortune, she threw
-herself into his arms, and lived happy ever after.
-
-The conclusion of the first scene in this saturnine comedy which was
-being enacted in the drawing-room in that house in St. Martin's Street,
-was in perfect keeping with the _mise-en-scène_ constructed by Fate,
-taking the rôle of Puck. It is admirably described in the diary of
-Charlotte Burney. She wrote that Mr. Greville--whom she nicknamed “Mr.
-Gruel”--assumed “his most supercilious air of distant superiority” and
-“planted himself immovable as a noble statue upon the hearth, as if a
-stranger to the whole set.”
-
-By this time Dr. Johnson must have had enough of the fire at which
-he had been sitting, and we at once see how utterly hopeless were the
-social relations at this miserable party when we hear that the men “were
-so kind and considerate as to divert themselves by making a fire-screen
-to the whole room.” But Dr. Johnson, having thoroughly warmed himself,
-was now in a position to administer a rebuke to the less fortunate ones,
-and, when nobody would have imagined that he had known the gentlemen
-were in the room, he said that “if he was not ashamed he would keep the
-fire from the ladies too.”
-
-“This reproof (for a reproof it certainly was, although given in a very
-comical, dry way) was productive,” Charlotte adds, “of a scene as good
-as a comedy, for Mr. Suard tumbled on to a sopha directly, Mr. Thrale on
-to a chair, Mr. Davenant sneaked off the premises, seemingly in as great
-a fright and as much confounded as if he had done any bad action, and
-Mr. Gruel being left solus, was obliged to stalk off.”
-
-A more perfect description of the “curtain” to the first act of this,
-“as good as a comedy,” could not be imagined. In every scene of this
-memorable evening the mocking figure of an impish Fate can be discerned.
-There was the tactful and urbane Dr. Burney anxious to gratify his old
-patron by presenting to him the great Dr. Johnson, and at the same time
-to show on what excellent terms he himself was with the family of the
-wealthy brewer, Mr. Thrale. Incidentally he has caused Johnson to put
-himself to the inconvenience of a clean shirt and a respectable wig;
-and, like a thoughtful general, lest any of his plans should fall short
-of fulfilment, he has invited an interesting vocalist to cover up the
-retreat and make failure almost impossible!
-
-Dr. Burney could do wonders by the aid of his tact and urbanity, but he
-is no match for Fate playing the part of Puck. Within an hour Johnson
-has disappointed him and become grumpy--the old bear has found the buns
-to be stale; Mr. Greville, the patron, is in a patronising mood, and
-becomes stiff and aloof because Johnson, secure with his pension,
-resents it; Mrs. Thrale, anxious to do her best for Burney, and at the
-same time to show Mrs. Greville and her fine daughter how thoroughly
-at home she is in the house and how delicate is her sense of humour,
-strikes an appallingly false note, and only saves herself by a touch of
-cleverness from appearing wholly ridiculous. This is pretty well for the
-opening scenes, but the closing catastrophe is not long delayed. The men
-huddle themselves together in stony silence; and they are reproved for
-impoliteness by--whom? Dr. Johnson, the man who has studied boorishness
-and advanced it to a place among the arts--the man who calls those who
-differ from him dolts and fools and rascals--the man whose manners at
-the dinner table are those of the sty and trough--the man who walks
-about the streets ungartered and unclean--this is the man who has the
-effrontery to rebuke for their rudeness such gentlemen as Mr. Fulk
-Greville, Mr. Seward, and Mr. Thrale! Puck can go no further. Down comes
-the curtain when one gentleman collapses upon a “sopha,” another into a
-chair, a third sneaks off like a culprit, and the fourth stalks off with
-an air of offended dignity!
-
-It might be thought that the imp of mischief who had assumed the control
-of this evening's entertainment would be satisfied at the result of his
-pranks so far. Nothing of the sort. He was only satisfied when he
-had made a match between the insignificant figure who was playing the
-musical accompaniment to his pranks and the lady who thought that his
-presence in the room was only justifiable on the ground that he made an
-excellent butt for her mockery!
-
-And the funniest part of the whole comedy is to be found in the fact
-that the pair lived happy ever after!
-
-The extraordinary influence which Boswell has had upon almost every
-student of the life of the latter half of the eighteenth century is
-shown in a marked way by the general acceptance of his view--which it is
-scarcely necessary to say was Johnson's view--of the second marriage of
-Mrs. Thrale. We are treating Boswell much more fairly than he treated
-Mrs. Thrale when we acknowledge at once that his opinion was shared by a
-considerable number of the lady's friends, including Dr. Burney and
-his family. They were all shocked when they heard that the widow of
-the Southwark brewer had married the Italian musician, Signor Gabrielli
-Piozzi. Even in the present day, when one might reasonably expect
-that, the miserable pettiness of Boswell's character having been made
-apparent, his judgment on most points would be received with a smile, he
-is taken very seriously by a good many people. It has long ago been made
-plain that Boswell was quite unscrupulous in his treatment of every one
-that crossed his path or made an attempt to interfere with the aim of
-his life, which was to become the biographer of Johnson. The instances
-of his petty malevolence which have come to light within recent years
-are innumerable. They show that the opinion which his contemporaries
-formed of him was absolutely correct. We know that he was regarded as a
-cur who was ever at Johnson's heels, and took the insults of the great
-man with a fawning complacency that was pathetically canine. He was
-daily called a cur. “Oh, no,” said Goldsmith, “he is not a cur, only a
-burr; Tom Davies flung him at Johnson one day as a joke, and he stuck to
-him ever since”--a cur, and an ape and a spy and a Branghton--the last
-by Dr. Johnson himself in the presence of a large company, that included
-the creator of the contemptible Mr. Branghton. (The incident was not,
-however, recorded by Mr. Boswell himself.) But as the extraordinary
-interest in his _Life of Johnson_ began to be acknowledged, the force of
-contemporary opinion gradually dwindled away, until Boswell's verdicts
-and Boswell's inferences found general acceptance; and even now
-Goldsmith is regarded as an Irish _omadhaum_, because Boswell did his
-best to make him out to be one, and Mrs. Thrale is thought to have
-forfeited her claims to respect because she married Signor Piozzi.
-
-People forget the origin of Boswell's malevolence in both cases. He
-detested Goldsmith because Goldsmith was a great writer, who was capable
-of writing a great biography of Johnson, with whom he had been on the
-most intimate terms long before Tom Davies flung his burr at Johnson; he
-hated Baretti and recorded--at the sacrifice of Johnson's reputation for
-humanity--Johnson's cynical belittling of him, because he feared that
-Baretti would write _the_ biography; he was spiteful in regard to Mrs.
-Thrale because she actually did write something biographical about
-Johnson.
-
-The impudence of such a man as Boswell writing about “honest Dr.
-Goldsmith” is only surpassed by his allusions to the second marriage of
-Mrs. Thrale. He was a fellow-guest with Johnson at the Thrales' house in
-1775, and he records something of a conversation which he says occurred
-on the subject of a woman's marrying some one greatly beneath her
-socially. “When I recapitulate the debate,” he says, “and recollect what
-has since happened, I cannot but be struck in a manner that delicacy
-forbids me to express! While I contended that she ought to be treated
-with inflexible steadiness of displeasure, Mrs. Thrale was all for
-mildness and forgiveness and, according to the vulgar phrase, making the
-best of a bad bargain.” This was published after the second marriage.
-What would be thought of a modern biographer who should borrow a little
-of Boswell's “delicacy,” and refer to a similar incident in the same
-style?
-
-In his own inimitable small way Boswell was for ever sneering at Mrs.
-Thrale. Sometimes he did it with that scrupulous delicacy of which an
-example has just been given; but he called her a liar more than once
-with considerable indelicacy, and his readers will without much trouble
-come to the conclusion that his indelicacy was preferable to his
-delicacy--it certainly came more natural to him. He was small and mean
-in all his ways, and never smaller or meaner than in his references to
-Mrs. Thrale's second marriage.
-
-But, it must be repeated, he did not stand alone in regarding her union
-with Piozzi as a _mésalliance_. Dr. Burney was shocked at the thought
-that any respectable woman would so far forget herself as to marry
-a musician, and his daughter Fanny wept remorseful tears when she
-reflected that she had once been the friend of a lady who did not shrink
-from marrying a foreigner and a Roman Catholic--more of the irony of
-Fate, for Fanny Burney was herself guilty of the same indiscretion later
-on: she made a happy marriage with a Roman Catholic foreigner, who
-lived on her pension and her earnings. Dr. Johnson was brutal when
-the conviction was forced upon him that he would no longer have an
-opportunity of insulting a lady who had treated him with incredible
-kindness, or the guests whom he met at her table. Upon one of the last
-occasions of his dining at Mrs. Thrale's house at Streatham, a gentleman
-present--an inoffensive Quaker--ventured to make a remark respecting the
-accuracy with which the red-hot cannon-balls were fired at the Siege of
-Gibraltar. Johnson listened for some time, and then with a cold sneer
-said, “I would advise you, sir, never to relate this story again. You
-really can scarce imagine how very poor a figure you make in the telling
-of it.” Later on he took credit to himself for not quarrelling with his
-victim when the latter chose to talk to his brother rather than to the
-man who had insulted him. Yes, it can quite easily be understood that
-Johnson should look on the marriage as a sad _mésalliance_, and possibly
-it is fair to assume from the letter which he wrote to the lady that he
-felt hurt when he heard that it was to take place.
-
-Mrs. Thrale wrote to tell him that she meant to marry Piozzi, and
-received the following reply:
-
-“Madam,--If I interpret your letter right, you are ignominiously
-married; if it is yet undone, let us once more talk together. If
-you have abandoned your children and your religion, God forgive your
-wickedness; if you have forfeited your fame and your country, may your
-folly do no further mischief!”
-
-Possibly the lady may have gathered from the hint or two conveyed
-to her, with Boswellian delicacy, in this letter, that Johnson was
-displeased with her. At any rate, she replied, declining to continue the
-correspondence.
-
-In her letter she summed up the situation exactly as a reasonable
-person, acquainted with all the facts, and knowing something of the
-first husband, would do.
-
-“The birth of my second husband is not meaner than that of my first,”
- she wrote; “his sentiments are not meaner; his profession is not meaner;
-and his superiority in what he professes acknowledged by all mankind. It
-is want of fortune, then, that is ignominious; the character of the man
-I have chosen has no other claim to such an epithet. The religion to
-which he has always been a zealous adherent, will, I hope, teach him to
-forgive insults he has not deserved; mine will, I hope, enable [me]
-to bear them at once with dignity and patience. To hear that I have
-forfeited my fame is indeed the greatest insult I ever yet received. My
-fame is as unsullied as snow, or I should think it unworthy of him who
-must henceforth protect it.”
-
-This brought the surly burly mass of offended dignity to his proper
-level; but still he would not offer the lady who had been his
-benefactress for twenty years an apology for his brutality. He had the
-presumption to offer his advice instead--advice and the story (highly
-appropriate from his point of view) of Mary Queen of Scots and the
-Archbishop of St. Andrews. He advised her to remain in England--he would
-not relinquish his room in her house and his place at her table without
-a struggle--as her rank would be higher in England than in Italy, and
-her fortune would be under her own eye. The latter suggestion was a
-delicate insult to Piozzi.
-
-Mrs. Piozzi, as she then became, showed that she esteemed this piece of
-presumption, under the guise of advice, at its true value. Immediately
-after her marriage she went abroad with her husband, though eventually
-she settled with him in England.
-
-Now, most modern readers will, we think, when they have become
-acquainted with the whole story of Mrs. Thrale's life, arrive at the
-conclusion that it was her first marriage that was the _mésalliance_,
-not her second.
-
-[Illustration: 0065]
-
-Henry Thrale was a man of humble origin--a fact that revealed itself
-almost daily in his life--and he was incapable of loving any one except
-himself. He certainly never made a pretence of devotion to his wife, and
-it is equally certain that, although she did more for him than any other
-woman would have done, she never loved him. It might be going too far,
-considering the diversity of temperament existing among womankind, to
-assert that he was incapable of being loved by any woman; but beyond
-a doubt he was not a lovable man. He was a stiff, dignified, morose,
-uncongenial man, and he was a Member of Parliament into the bargain.
-What could a pretty, lively, brilliant girl of good family see in such a
-man as Thrale to make her love him? She never did love him--at times she
-must have detested him. But she married him, and it was a lucky day
-for him that she did so. Twice she saved him from bankruptcy, and three
-times she induced his constituents, who thoroughly hated him, to return
-him to Parliament as their representative. He never did anything in
-Parliament, and he did little out of it that was worth remembering. It
-is customary to make large allowances for a man of business who finds
-that his wealth and a charming wife serve as a passport into what is
-called society, though latterly such men do not stand in need of such
-a favour being shown to them. But if a man betrays his ignorance of
-certain social usages--not necessarily refinements--his friends excuse
-him on the ground that he is a first-rate business man. Thrale, however,
-was unworthy of such a title. He inherited a great scientific business,
-but he showed himself so incapable of appreciating the methods by which
-it had been built up, that he brought himself within a week or two of
-absolute ruin by listening to a clumsy adventurer who advocated the
-adoption of a system of adulteration of his beer that even a hundred
-and fifty years ago would have brought him within sight of a criminal
-prosecution.
-
-His literary wife, by her clever management, aided by the money of her
-mother and of sundry of her own, not her husband's, friends, succeeded
-in staving off the threatened disaster. But the pig-headed man did not
-accept the lesson which one might imagine he would have learned. Seeing
-the success that crowned other enterprises of the same character as his
-own, he endeavoured to emulate this success, not by the legitimate way
-of increasing his customers, but by the idiotic plan of over-production.
-He had an idea that in the multiplying of the article which he had to
-sell he was increasing his business. Once again he was helped from the
-verge of ruin by his literary wife.
-
-He must have been a dreadful trial to her, and to a far-seeing manager
-whom he had--a man named Perkins. Of course it was inevitable that the
-force of character possessed by this Mr. Perkins must eventually prevail
-against the dignified incompetence of the proprietor. The inevitable
-happened, and the name of Perkins has for more than a hundred years been
-bracketed with Barclay as a going concern, while the name of Thrale has
-vanished for ever from “the Borough.”
-
-It was this Mr. Perkins who, when the brewery was within five minutes of
-absolute disaster, displayed the tactics of a great general in the face
-of an implacable enemy, and saved the property. As a reward for his
-services his master authorised the presentation to him of the sum of
-a hundred pounds. His master's wife, however, being a more generous
-assessor of the value of the man's ability, ventured to present double
-the sum, together with a silver tea-service for Mrs. Perkins; but she
-did so in fear and trembling, failing to summon up sufficient courage to
-acquaint her husband with her extravagance until further concealment was
-impossible. She was so overjoyed at his sanctioning the increase that
-she at once wrote to her friends acquainting them with this evidence of
-his generosity.
-
-This episode was certainly the most stirring in the history of Thrale's
-brewery. The Gordon rioters had been terrorising London for several
-days, burning houses in every direction, as well as Newgate and another
-prison, and looting street after street. They had already overthrown one
-brewery, and they found the incident so fascinating that they marched
-across the bridge to the Southwark concern, raising the cry that Thrale
-was a Papist. The Thrales were at this time sojourning at Bath, and
-were in an agony of suspense regarding their property. They had left
-Dr. Johnson comfortably ensconced at their Streatham house in order that
-they might learn in dignified language how things were going on.
-
-This is Johnson's thrilling account of the incident:
-
-“What has happened to your house you all know. The harm is only a few
-butts of beer, and I think you may be sure that the danger is over. Pray
-tell Mr. Thrale that I live here, and have no fruit, and if he does not
-interpose am not likely to have much; but I think he might as well give
-me a little as give all to the gardener.”
-
-There was a double catastrophe threatening, it would appear: the burning
-of the brewery and the shortage in the supply of Dr. Johnson's peaches.
-
-This is how Mrs. Thrale describes the situation:
-
-“Nothing but the astonishing presence of mind shewed by Perkins in
-amusing the mob, with meat and drink and huzzas, till Sir Philip
-Jennings Clerke could get the troops, and pack up the counting-house,
-bills, bonds etc. and carry them, which he did, to Chelsea College for
-safety, could have saved us from actual undoing. The villains _had_
-broke in, and our brew-house would have blazed in ten minutes, when
-a property of £150,000 would have been utterly lost, and its once
-flourishing possessors quite undone.”
-
-It seems almost incredible that Johnson, living at Streatham as the
-guardian of Mr. Thrale's interests, should require the lady to write to
-him, begging him to thank Perkins for his heroism. But so it was.
-
-“Perkins has behaved like an Emperor,” she wrote, “and it is my earnest
-wish and desire--command, if you please to call it so--that you will go
-over to the brew-house and express _your_ sense of his good behaviour.”
-
-Mrs. Thrale was unreasonable. How could Johnson be expected to take any
-action when he was deprived of his peaches?
-
-It will strike a good many modern readers of the account of this and
-other transactions that if it was Perkins who saved the brewery for Mr.
-Thrale, it was Mrs. Thrale who saved Perkins for the brewery. Possibly
-it was her prompt gift of the silver plate to Mrs. Perkins that induced
-this splendid manager to pocket the insult of the beggarly two hundred
-guineas given to him by Mrs. Thrale--though this was double the amount
-authorised by the “master.” Thrale never sufficiently valued the
-services of Perkins. If he had had any gratitude in his composition he
-would never have made Johnson one of his executors. What a trial it
-must have been to the competent man of business to see Johnson lumbering
-about the place with a pen behind his ear and an ink-pot suspended from
-a button of his coat, getting in the way of everybody, and yet feeling
-himself quite equal to any business emergency that might crop up. He
-felt himself equal to anything--even to improve upon the auctioneer's
-style in appraising the value of the whole concern. “Beyond the dreams
-of avarice” remains as the sole classic phrase born beneath the shadow
-of a brew-house.
-
-In the matter of the premium to Perkins, Thrale should have felt that he
-had a treasure in his wife, to say nothing of all that she had done for
-him upon another occasion, involving a terrible sacrifice. A quarrel had
-broken out among the clerks at the brewery, which even the generalship
-of Perkins was unable to mollify. Had Mrs. Thrale been an ordinary
-woman she would not have jeopardised her own life and the life of her
-child--her thirteenth--in her husband's interests. As it was, however,
-she felt that the duty was imposed on her to settle the difficulties in
-the counting-house, and she did so; but only after many sleepless nights
-and the sacrifice of her child. “The men were reconciled,” she wrote,
-“and my danger accelerated their reconcilement.”
-
-If Henry Thrale was deficient in the best characteristics of a business
-man, his qualifications to shine socially can scarcely be regarded as
-abundant. There were stories of his having been a gay dog in his youth,
-but assuredly he and gaiety had long been strangers when he married his
-wife, and upon no occasion afterwards could he be so described even by
-the most indulgent of his friends; so that one rather inclines to the
-belief that the dull dog must have been a dull puppy. We know what
-his eldest daughter was, and we are convinced that the nature of that
-priggish, dignified, and eminently disagreeable young lady was inherited
-from her father. In Miss Thrale as a girl one feels that one is looking
-at Henry Thrale as a boy. The only story that survives of those mythical
-gay days with which he was accredited is that relating to the arrival
-of the Gunnings to take London by storm. It was said that he and Murphy
-thought to make these exquisite creatures the laughing-stock of the town
-by introducing them to a vulgar hanger-on of Murphy, in the character of
-a wealthy man of title and distinction. Possibly the two young men were
-put up to play this disgraceful prank upon the Gunnings by some jealous
-female associate; but however this may be, it not only failed most
-ignominiously, it recoiled upon the jesters themselves, for Mrs.
-Gunning, herself the sister of a nobleman, and destined to become the
-mother-in-law of two dukes and the grandmother of two more--the parent
-of a peeress in her own right, and an uncommonly shrewd Irishwoman into
-the bargain--“smoaked,” as the slang of the period had it, the trick,
-and her footman bundled the trio into the street.
-
-The story may be true; but as both the Gunning girls were married in
-1752, and Thrale did not meet Hester Lynch Salusbury till 1763, it was
-an old story then, and it was not remembered against him except by the
-Duchess of Hamilton. If it represents the standard of his adolescent
-wildness, we cannot but think that his youth was less meteoric than his
-wife believed it to be. At any rate, we do not know much about his early
-life, but we do know a great deal about his latter years, and it is
-impossible to believe that his nature underwent a radical change within
-a year or two of his marriage.
-
-He became the host of a large number of the most notable people of that
-brilliant period at which he lived, and we perceive from the copious
-accounts that survive of the Streatham gatherings that he was greatly
-respected by all his visitors. He never said anything that was worth
-recording, and he never did anything memorable beyond stopping Johnson
-when the latter was becoming more than usually offensive to his
-fellow-guests. He had no ear for music any more than Johnson had, and it
-does not appear that he cared any more for painting, although he became
-a splendid patron of Sir Joshua Reynolds, whom he commissioned to paint
-several portraits of his distinguished friends for the decoration of the
-library at Streatham. To his munificence in this respect the world owes
-its finest portraits of Goldsmith, Burke, Garrick, the painter himself,
-and Mrs. Thrale.
-
-The debt which we feel we owe to Thrale on this account is, however,
-somewhat discounted when we learn that this enthusiastic patron of
-art never paid the painter for his work. He left the pictures and the
-obligation to pay for them as a legacy to his widow--and to pay for
-them at more than the current rate for each into the bargain. Sir Joshua
-Reynolds was as good a man of business as Thrale was an indifferent
-one. At the time of his painting the portraits his price for a
-three-quarter-length picture was £35, but in the course of a year or two
-he felt it necessary to charge £50 for the same size, and this was the
-price which the unfortunate widow had to pay for her husband's pose as
-the munificent patron of the Arts.
-
-Men of the stamp of Thrale usually have no vices.
-
-They are highly respected. If they had a vice or two they would be
-beloved. He had a solitary failing, but it did not win for him the
-affection of any one: it was gluttony. For years of his life he gave
-himself up to the coarsest form of indulgence. He was not a gourmet: he
-did not aim at the refinements of the table or at those daintinesses of
-cuisine which in the days of intemperate eaters and drinkers proved so
-fatally fascinating to men of many virtues; no, his was the vice of the
-trough. He ate for the sake of eating, unmindful of the nature of the
-dish so long as it was plentiful enough to keep him employed for an hour
-or two.
-
-The dinner-table of the famous Streatham Park must have been a spectacle
-for some of the philosophers who sat round it. We know what was the food
-that Johnson's soul loved, and we know how he was accustomed to partake
-of it. He rioted in pork, and in veal baked with raisins, and when he
-sat down to some such dainty he fed like a wild animal. He used his
-fingers as though they were claws, tearing the flesh from the bone
-in his teeth, and swallowing it not wholly without sound. It is not
-surprising to learn that his exertions caused the veins in his forehead
-to swell and the beads of perspiration to drop from his scholarly brow,
-nor can any one who has survived this account of his muscular feat at
-the dinner-table reasonably be amazed to hear that when so engaged, he
-devoted himself to the work before him to the exclusion of every other
-interest in life. He was oblivious of anything that was going on around
-him. He was deaf to any remark made by a neighbour, and for himself
-articulation was suspended. Doubtless the feeble folk on whom he had
-been trampling in the drawing-room felt that his peculiarities of
-feeding, though revolting to the squeamish, were not without a bright
-side. They had a chance of making a remark at such intervals without
-being gored--“gored,” it will be remembered, was the word employed by
-Boswell in playful allusion to the effect of his argumentative powers.
-
-Thanks to the careful habits of some of the guests at this famous house
-we know what fare was placed before the Gargantuan geniuses at one of
-these dinners. Here is the _carte du jour_, “sufficient for twelve,” as
-the cookery book says:
-
-“First course, soups at head and foot, removed by fish and a saddle
-of mutton; second course, a fowl they call galena at head and a capon
-larger than some of our Irish turkeys at foot; third course, four
-different sorts of ices, pine-apple, grape, raspberry and a fourth; in
-each remove there were fourteen dishes.” The world is indebted to an
-Irish clergyman for these details. It will be seen that they did not
-include much that could be sneered at as bordering on the kickshaw.
-All was good solid English fare--just the sort to make the veins in a
-gormandiser's forehead to swell and to induce the lethargy from which
-Thrale suffered. He usually fell asleep after dinner; one day he failed
-to awake, and he has not awakened since.
-
-Of course Johnson, being invariably in delicate health, was compelled to
-put himself on an invalid's diet when at home. He gives us a sample of
-a _diner maigre_ at Bolt Court. Feeling extremely ill, he wrote to Mrs.
-Thrale that he could only take for dinner “skate, pudding, goose, and
-green asparagus, and could have eaten more but was prudent.” He adds,
-“Pray for me, dear Madam,”--by no means an unnecessary injunction, some
-people will think, when they become aware of the details of the meal of
-an invalid within a year or two of seventy.
-
-It was after one of the Streatham dinners that Mrs. Thrale ventured to
-say a word or two in favour of Garrick's talent for light gay poetry,
-and as a specimen repeated his song in _Florizel and Perdita_, and dwelt
-with peculiar pleasure on this line:
-
-_I'd smile with the simple and dine with the poor._
-
-This is Boswell's account of the matter, and he adds that Johnson cried,
-“Nay, my dear lady, this will never do. Poor David! Smile with the
-simple! What folly is that? And who would feed with the poor that can
-help it? No, no; let me smile with the wise and feed with the rich!”
-
-Quite so; beyond a doubt Johnson spoke from the bottom of his
-heart--nay, from a deeper depth still.
-
-Boswell was amazed to find that Garrick's “sensibility” as a writer was
-irritated when he related the story to him, and in Mrs. Thrale's copy of
-Johnson she made a note--“How odd to go and tell the man!”
-
-It was not at all odd that Boswell, being a professional tale-bearer and
-mischief-maker, should tell the man; but it is odd that Garrick should
-be irritated, the fact being that the sally was directed against a
-line which he did not write. What Garrick did write was something very
-different. The verse, which was misquoted, runs thus:
-
- That giant Ambition we never can dread;
-
- Our roofs are too low for so lofty a head;
-
- Content and sweet Cheerfulness open our door,
-
- They smile with the simple and feed with the poor.
-
-Such a muddle as was made of the whole thing can only be attributed to
-the solidity of the Streatham fare.
-
-It was inevitable that Thrale could not continue over-eating himself
-with impunity. He was warned more than once by his doctors that he was
-killing himself, and yet when he had his first attack every one was
-shocked. He recovered temporarily, and all his friends implored him to
-cultivate moderation at the dinner-table. A touch of humour is to be
-found among the details of the sordid story, in his wife's begging
-Johnson--Johnson of the swollen forehead and the tokens of his
-submission to the primeval curse in the eating of his bread--to try to
-reason the unhappy man out of his dreadful vice. After wiping from the
-front of his coat the remains of the eighth peach which he had eaten
-before breakfast, or the dregs of his nineteenth cup of tea from
-his waistcoat, Johnson may have felt equal to the duty. He certainly
-remonstrated with Thrale. It was all to no purpose, however; he had a
-second attack of apoplexy in the spring of 1780, and we hear that he was
-copiously “blooded.” He recovered and went to Bath to recruit. It was
-during this visit to Bath that the brewery was attacked by the Gordon
-rioters. On returning to London he failed to induce his constituents to
-remain faithful to him, and he continued eating voraciously for another
-year. He began a week of gorging on April 1st, 1781. His wife implored
-him to be more moderate, and Johnson said very wisely, “Sir, after the
-denunciation of your physicians this morning, such eating is little
-better than suicide.” It was all to no purpose. He survived the gorge
-of Sunday and Monday, but that of Tuesday was too much for him. He was
-found by his daughter on the floor in a fit of apoplexy, and died the
-next morning.
-
-Such was the man whose memory was outraged by the marriage of his
-widow with Piozzi, an Italian musician, whose ability was so highly
-appreciated that his earnings, even when he had lost his voice, amounted
-to £1200 a year, a sum equal to close upon £2500 of our money. And yet
-Johnson had the effrontery to suggest in that letter of his to Mrs.
-Thrale, which we have quoted, that she would do well to live in England,
-so that her money might be under her own eye!
-
-The truth is that Mrs. Thrale was in embarrassed circumstances when she
-married Signor Piozzi. Her worthy husband left her an annuity of £2000,
-which was to be reduced by £800 in the event of her marrying again; and
-also £500 for her immediate expenses. Johnson wrote to her, making
-her acquainted with this fact, in order, it would seem, to allay any
-unworthy suspicion which she might entertain as to the extent of her
-husband's generosity. But his last will and testament cannot have wholly
-dispersed the doubt into which her experience of Mr. Thrale may have
-led her. For a man who had been making from £16,000 to £20,000 a year
-to leave his wife only £2000 a year, with a possibility of its being
-reduced to £1200, would not strike any one as being generous to a point
-of recklessness. When, however, it is remembered that Thrale's wife
-plucked him and his business from the verge of bankruptcy more than
-once, that she bore him fourteen children, and that she lived with him
-for eighteen years, all question as to the generosity of his bequest to
-her vanishes. But when, in addition, it is remembered that the lady's
-fortune at her marriage to Thrale amounted to £10,000, all of which he
-pocketed, and that later on she brought him another £500 a year, that
-it was her mother's money, added to the sum which she herself collected
-personally, which saved the brewery from collapse--once again at
-the sacrifice of her infant--all question even of common fairness
-disappears, and the meanness of the man stands revealed.
-
-[Illustration: 0083]
-
-It was through the exertions and by the business capacity of his widow
-that the brewery was sold for £135,000. She was the only one of the
-trustees who knew anything definite about the value of the property,
-and had she not been on the spot, that astute Mr. Perkins could have so
-worked the concern that he might have been able to buy it in a year or
-two for the value of the building materials. And yet when she became
-involved in a lawsuit that involved the paying of £7000, she had
-difficulty in persuading her daughters' trustees to advance her the
-money, although the security of the mortgage which she offered for
-the accommodation would have satisfied any bankers. A wretch named
-Crutchley, who was one of this precious band of incompetents, on the
-completion of the deed bade her thank her daughters for keeping her out
-of gaol. It is not recorded that the lady replied, though she certainly
-might have done so, and with truth on her side, that if her daughters
-had kept her out of a gaol she had kept her daughters out of a
-workhouse. She would have done much better to have gone to her friends
-the Barclays, whose bank had a hundred and fifty years ago as high a
-reputation for probity combined with liberality as the same concern
-enjoys to-day.
-
-Enough of the business side of Mrs. Thrale's second marriage has
-been revealed to make it plain that Piozzi was not influenced by any
-mercenary motives in the transaction. On the contrary, it was he who
-came to her assistance when she was in an extremity, and by the prompt
-loan of £1000 extricated her from her embarrassment, and left the next
-day for Italy, without having any hope of marrying her.
-
-Johnson's verdict on Piozzi, communicated to Miss Seward, was that
-he was an ugly dog, without particular skill in his profession.
-Unfortunately for this musical enthusiast and devotee to beauty, Miss
-Seward met Piozzi on his return from Italy with his wife. (His excellent
-control of her money had resulted in every penny of the mortgage being
-paid, and of the lodgment of £1500 to their credit in the bank). And
-Miss Seward, writing from Lichfield--more of the irony of Fate--in 1787,
-affirmed that the great Lichfield man “did not tell me the truth when
-he asserted that Piozzi was an ugly dog, without particular skill in
-his profession. M. Piozzi is a handsome man in middle life, with
-gentle, pleasing, unaffected manners, and with very eminent skill in his
-profession. Though he has not a powerful or fine-toned voice, he sings
-with transcending grace and expression. I was charmed with his perfect
-expression on his instrument. Surely the finest sensibilities must
-vibrate through his frame, since they breathe so sweetly through his
-song.” From this verdict no person who was acquainted with Signor Piozzi
-differed. Mrs. Thrale's marriage with Piozzi was as fortunate for her as
-her first marriage was for Thrale.
-
-
-
-
-A TRAGEDY IN THE HAYMARKET
-
-ABOUT half-past nine o'clock on the night of October 6th, 1769, a
-tall, middle-aged gentleman named Joseph Baretti was walking up the
-Hay-market. The street was probably as well lighted as any other in
-London, and this is equivalent to saying that a foot passenger, by
-keeping close to the windows of the shops and taking cross bearings of
-the economically distributed oil lamps hung out at the corners of the
-many lanes, might be able to avoid the deep channel of filth that slunk
-along the margin of cobble stones. But just at this time the Haymarket
-must have been especially well illuminated, for the Opera House was
-in the act of discharging its audience, and quite a number of these
-fashionable folk went home in their chairs, with link boys walking by
-the side of the burly Irish chairmen, showing a flaring flame which left
-behind it a long trail of suffocating smoke, and spluttered resin and
-bitumen into the faces and upon the garments of all who were walking
-within range of the illuminant. Then there was the little theatre higher
-up the street, and its lamps were not yet extinguished; so that Mr.
-Baretti may have felt that on the whole he was fortunate in the hour he
-had chosen for his stroll to the coffee-house where he meant to sup. He
-may have thought that he had a chance of coming across his friend Sir
-Joshua Reynolds leaving one of the playhouses, and of being invited by
-that hospitable gentleman to his house in Leicester Fields; or his still
-more intimate friend Dr. Samuel Johnson, who would certainly insist on
-carrying him off to the “Mitre,” unless the great man were accompanied
-by that little Scotch person, James Boswell, who usually wanted him
-all to himself, after he had given people a chance of seeing him in the
-company of his distinguished friend, and envying him his position of
-intimacy--the same position of intimacy that exists between a Duke and
-his doormat. Mr. Baretti was too short-sighted to have any chance of
-recognising Sir Joshua Reynolds unless he chanced to be standing under
-the lamp in the portico of the playhouse, but he felt that he would have
-no trouble in recognising Dr. Johnson. The latter had characteristics
-that appealed to other senses than the sense of seeing, and made the act
-of recognition easy enough to his intimates.
-
-Mr. Baretti, however, passed along the dispersing crowd, and was soon in
-the dim regions of Panton Street, where pedestrians were few. But before
-he had turned down this street he found his way barred by a couple of
-half-drunken women. His infirmity of sight prevented his being aware of
-their presence until he was almost in the arms of one of them, and
-the very second that he made his sudden stop she made a change in the
-details of the accident that seemed imminent and threw herself into his
-arms with a yell.
-
-The good man was staggered for a moment, but, recovering himself, he
-flung her off with an expressive word or two in the Italian tongue. She
-went limply back and, being adroitly avoided by her companion, gave a
-circular stagger or two and fell into the gutter with a screech.
-
-Baretti was hurrying on when out of the darkness of Panton Street a big
-man sprang, followed quickly by two others. The first seized him by the
-right arm with the oath of a bully, the others tried to trip him up,
-shouting that he had killed a lady. Baretti was a powerful man and
-decidedly tough. He struck at the fellow who had closed with him, and
-used his feet against the attack of the others with considerable effect.
-He managed to free his arm, but before he could draw his sword he
-was pulled backward and would have fallen upon his head if he had not
-clutched the coat of the man from whom he had freed himself. There was a
-pause of a few seconds, filled up by the wild street yell of the women.
-The most aggressive of the three men leapt upon the unfortunate Baretti,
-but before their bodies met, gave a guttural shriek, then a groan. He
-staggered past, his fingers tearing like talons at his ribs; he whirled
-twice round and, gasping, fell on his knees, motionless only for a few
-seconds; his hands dropped limply from his side, and he pitched forward
-on his head into the gutter.
-
-Baretti was standing, awaiting a further attack, with a knife in his
-hand, when he was seized by some of the crowd. He offered no resistance.
-He seemed to be so amazed at finding himself alive as to be incapable of
-taking any further action.
-
-“He has killed the man--stabbed him with a dagger to the very heart!”
- was the cry that came from those of the crowd who were kneeling beside
-the wretch in the gutter.
-
-“And a woman--he had slain a woman at the outset. Hold him fast. None of
-us are safe this night. Have a care for the dagger, friends!”
-
-A sufficiency of advice was given by the excited onlookers to the men
-who had encircled Baretti--one of them was clinging to him with his arms
-clasped around his body--until two of the Haymarket watch hurried up,
-striking right and left with their staves after the wholesome manner of
-the period, and so making a way for their approach through the crowd.
-
-“'Tis more than a street brawl--a man has been slain--some say a woman
-also,” a shopkeeper explained to them, having run bareheaded out of his
-shop; his apprentice had just put up the last of the shutters.
-
-They had Baretti by the collar in a second, cautiously disarming him,
-holding the weapon up to the nearest lamp. The blade was still wet with
-blood.
-
-“A swinging matter this,” one of them remarked. “I can swear to the
-blood. No dagger, but a knife. What man walks the streets at night with
-a naked knife unless slaughter is his intent?”
-
-“Friends, I was attacked by three bullies, and I defended myself--that
-is all,” said Baretti. He spoke English perfectly.
-
-“You will need to tell that to Sir John in the morning,” said one of
-the watchmen. “You are apprehended in the King's name. Where is the poor
-victim?”
-
-“There must be some of the crowd who saw how I was attacked,” said
-Baretti. “They will testify that I acted in self-defence. Sirs, hear me
-make an appeal to you. Out of your sense of justice--you will not see an
-innocent man apprehended.”
-
-“The knife--who carries a bare knife in the streets unless with intent?”
- said a man.
-
-“'Twas my fruit-knife. I never go abroad without it. I eat my fruit like
-a Christian, not like a pig or an Englishman,” was the defence offered
-by Baretti, who had now quite lost his temper and was speaking with his
-accustomed bitterness. He usually sought to pass as an Englishman,
-but he was now being arrested by the minions of the law as it was in
-England.
-
-“Hear him! A pig of an Englishman. Those were his words! A foreign
-hound. Frenchie, I'll be bound.”
-
-“A spy--most like a Papist. He has the hanging brow of a born Papist.”
-
-“He'll hang like a dog at Tyburn--he may be sure o' that.”
-
-“'Tis the mercy o' Heaven that the rascal was caught red-handed! Sirs,
-this may be the beginning of a dreadful massacring plot against the
-lives of honest and peaceful people.”
-
-The comments of a crowd of the period upon such an incident as the
-stabbing of an Englishman by a foreigner in the streets of London can
-easily be imagined.
-
-Even when Baretti was put into a hackney coach and driven off to Bow
-Street the crowd doubtless remained talking in groups of the menace
-to English freedom and true religion by the arrival of pestilent
-foreigners, every man of them carrying a knife. It would be a sad
-day for England when Jesuitical fruit-knives took the place of
-good wholesome British bludgeons in the settlement of the ordinary
-differences incidental to a Protestant people.
-
-It is certain that this was one of the comments of the disintegrating
-crowd, and it is equally certain that Baretti commented pretty freely
-to his custodians in the hackney coach upon the place occupied in
-the comity of nations of that State, the social conditions of whose
-metropolis made possible so gross a scandal as the arrest of a gentleman
-and a scholar, solely by reason of his success in snatching his life out
-of the talons of a ruffian and a bully.
-
-Mr. Baretti was a gentleman and a scholar whose name appears pretty
-frequently in the annals of the eighteenth century, but seldom with any
-great credit to himself. As a matter of fact, this dramatic episode of
-the stabbing of the man in the Haymarket is the happiest with which
-his name is associated. He made his most creditable appearance in the
-chronicles of the period as the chief actor in this sordid drama. He
-cuts a very poor figure indeed upon every other occasion when he appears
-in the pages of his contemporaries, though they all meant to be kind to
-him.
-
-He never could bear people to be kind to him, and certainly, so far as
-he himself was concerned, it cannot be said that any blame attaches to
-him for the persistence of his friends in this direction. He did all
-that mortal man could do to discourage them, and if after the lapse of
-a year or two he was still treated by some with cordiality or respect,
-assuredly it was not owing to his display of any qualities that
-justified their maintenance of such an attitude.
-
-Mr. Baretti was an eminently detestable scholar of many parts. He was as
-detestable as he was learned--perhaps even more so. Learned men are
-not invariably horrid, unless they are men of genius as well, and this
-rarely happens.
-
-Baretti had no such excuse, though it must be acknowledged that his
-capacity for being disagreeable almost amounted to genius. Such a
-character as his is now and again met with in daily life. A man who
-feels himself to be, in point of scholarly attainment, far above
-the majority of men, and who sees inferiority occupying a place
-of distinction while he remains neglected and, to his thinking,
-unappreciated, is not an uncommon figure in learned or artistic circles.
-Baretti was a disappointed man, and he showed himself to be such. He had
-a grievance against the world for being constituted as it is. He had a
-grievance against society. He had a grievance against his friends who
-got on in the world. But the only people against whom he was really
-malevolent were those who were signally and unaccountably kind to him.
-He accepted their kindness, and then turned and rent them.
-
-Dr. Johnson met him when they were both working for the booksellers,
-and when the great dictionary scheme was floated his co-operation was
-welcomed. Johnson's success in life was largely due to his faculty for
-discovering people who could be useful to him. It can easily be believed
-that, knowing something of the scholarship of Baretti, he should
-be delighted to avail himself of his help. Baretti had an intimate
-knowledge of several languages and their literature; as a philologist
-he was probably far superior to Johnson; and possibly Johnson knew this,
-though he was doubtless too wise ever to acknowledge so much openly.
-We do not hear that the relations between the two ever became strained
-while the great work was in course of progress. Shortly after it was
-completed Baretti returned to his native Italy, and began to reproach
-Johnson for not writing to him more frequently. We have several examples
-of the cheerfulness with which Johnson set about exculpating himself
-from such reproaches. The letters which he wrote to him at Italy are
-among the most natural that ever came from his pen. They are models of
-the gossipy style which Johnson could assume without once deviating
-from that dignity which so frequently became ponderous, suggesting the
-dignity of the elephant rather than that of the lion. Walpole was
-a master of the art of being gossipy without being dignified. But
-Johnson's style was not flexible. We have not Baretti's letters
-to Johnson, but the references made by the latter to some matters
-communicated to him by his correspondent let us know something of how
-Baretti was getting on in the land of his birth. He seems to have set
-his heart upon obtaining some appointment in Italy, and his aspirations
-included marriage. He was disappointed in both directions; and it would
-be too much to expect that his temper was improved by these rebuffs.
-
-It may well be believed that he quarrelled his way through Italy. “I
-have lately seen Mr. Stratico, Professor of Padua, who has told me
-of your quarrel with an abbot of the Celestine Order, but had not the
-particulars very ready in his memory,” Johnson wrote to him at Milan.
-Any one who could quarrel with an abbot of the Celestine Order would, we
-fancy, be _capable de tout_, like the prophet Habakkuk, according to the
-witty Frenchman. One is not disposed to be hard upon Professor Stratico
-for his shortness of memory in regard to this particular quarrel; the
-strain of remembering the details of all the quarrels of Mr. Baretti
-would be too great for any man.
-
-Of course, Dr. Johnson gave him some excellent advice. It seems that
-poor Baretti had been at first so well received on his return to Italy
-that he became sanguine of success in all his enterprises, and when they
-miscarried he wrote very bitterly to Johnson, who replied as follows:
-
-“I am sorry for your disappointment, with which you seem more touched
-than I should expect a man of your resolution and experience to
-have been, did I not know that general truths are seldom applied to
-particular occasions; and that the fallacy of our selflove extends
-itself as wide as our interests or affections. Every man believes that
-mistresses are unfaithful and patrons capricious; but he excepts his
-own mistress and his own patron. We have all learned that greatness is
-negligent and contemptuous, and that in Courts life is often languished
-away in ungratified expectation; but he that approaches greatness or
-glitters in a Court, imagines that destiny has at last exempted him from
-the common lot.”
-
-It is doubtful if this excellent philosophy made the person to whom it
-was addressed more amiable to his immediate entourage; nor is it likely
-that he was soothed by the assurance that his “patron's weakness or
-insensibility will finally do you little hurt, if he is not assisted by
-your own passions.”
-
-“Of your love,” continued Johnson, “I know not the propriety; we can
-estimate the power, but in love, as in every other passion of which hope
-is the essence, we ought always to remember the uncertainty of events.”
- He then hastens to add that “love and marriage are different states.
-Those who are to suffer the evils together, and to suffer often for
-the sake of one another, soon lose that tenderness of look, and that
-benevolence of mind which arose from the participation of unmingled
-pleasure and success in amusement.”
-
-The pleasant little cynical bark in the phrase “those that are to suffer
-the evils together,” as if it referred to love and marriage, is, Malone
-thinks, not Johnson's, but Baretti's. It is suggested that Johnson
-really wrote “those that are to suffer the evils _of life_ together,”
- and that Baretti in transcribing the letter for Boswell, purposely
-omitted the words “_of life_.” It would be quite like Baretti to do
-this; for he would thereby work off part of his spite against Johnson
-for having given him the advice, and he would have had his own sneer
-against “love and marriage,” the _fons et origo_ of his disappointment.
-
-But of Dr. Johnson's esteem for the attainments of Baretti there can be
-no doubt. He thought that the book on Italy which he published on his
-return to England was very entertaining, adding: “Sir, I know no man who
-carries his head higher in conversation than Baretti. There are strong
-powers in his mind. He has not, indeed, many hooks; but with what hooks
-he has he grapples very forcibly.”
-
-[Illustration: 0099]
-
-It may seem rather strange after this that Baretti was never admitted to
-the membership of the celebrated club. He was intimate with nearly
-all the original members, but the truth remained that he was not what
-Johnson called a clubbable man: he had too many hooks, not too few.
-
-Such was the man who was brought before Sir John Fielding, the
-magistrate at Bow Street, on the morning after the tragedy, charged with
-murder; and then it was that he found the value of the friendships which
-he had formed in England. The first person to hasten to his side in his
-extremity was Oliver Goldsmith, the man whom he had so frequently made
-the object of his sarcasm, whose peculiarities he had mimicked, not in
-the playful manner of Garrick or Foote, but in his own spiteful style,
-with the grim humour of the disappointed man. Goldsmith it was who
-opened his purse for him and got a coach for him when he was
-remanded until the next day, riding by his side to the place of his
-incarceration. Goldsmith was by his side when the question of bail was
-discussed before Lord Mansfield. For some reason which does not require
-any particular explanation, it was not thought that Goldsmith as a
-bailsman would appeal irresistibly to the authorities, but the names
-of Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Edmund Burke, Mr. David Garrick, and Mr. H.
-Fitzherbert were submitted to Lord Mansfield, and immediately accepted.
-An amusing anecdote was current regarding the few days of Baretti's
-incarceration. One morning he was visited by a teacher of languages,
-who begged a trifling favour of him. This was merely a letter of
-recommendation to Baretti's pupils, so that the applicant might have
-a chance of taking them over “when you are hanged, sir.” The fact that
-this sympathetic visitor was allowed to depart without molestation makes
-people doubt whether Baretti was so bad-tempered after all. He did not
-assault the man. “You rascal!” he cried. “If I were not in my own room,
-I would kick you downstairs directly.”
-
-The trial was fixed for October 20th at the Old Bailey, and a few days
-before this date a number of the prisoner's friends met together to
-consult as to the line which should be taken for his defence. It seems
-that they were not all agreed on some points; this was only to be
-expected, considering what an array of wisdom was brought together upon
-the occasion of these consultations, and considering also the course
-which was adopted by Dr. Johnson, who thought that the interests of the
-prisoner would be advanced by getting up an academical discussion with
-Burke. Johnson and Burke were notorious rivals in conversation in those
-days when conversation was regarded as an art, and men and women seemed
-to have plenty of leisure to talk together for the sake of talking,
-and to argue together for the sake of argument, and to be rude to one
-another for the sake of wit. Boswell was for ever extolling Johnson
-at the expense of Burke; and indeed, so far as one can gather from his
-pages, Johnson was the ruder man.
-
-The example that Boswell gives of his own readiness in making Goldsmith
-“shut up” when he questioned Johnson's superiority to Burke in
-discussion is one of the best instances of the little Scotsman's
-incapacity to perceive the drift of an argument. “Is he like Burke who
-winds into a subject like a serpent?” asked Goldsmith.
-
-“But” (said I) “Dr. Johnson is the Hercules that strangled serpents in
-his cradle.”
-
-This repartee which Boswell gleefully records is about equal to the
-reply made by one of the poets who was appealed to in the “Bab Ballads”
- to say if he wrote “the lovely cracker mottoes my Elvira pulls at
-supper.” It will be remembered that the poet whose name rhymes with
-“supper” replied:
-
- “'A fool is bent upon a twig, but wise men dread a bandit,'
-
- Which” (the earnest inquirer said) “I felt was very wise,
-
- but I didn't understand it.”
-
-It was in regard to this consultation as to the best defence to be made
-out for Baretti that Johnson admitted to have opposed Burke simply for
-the sake of showing the rest of the company that he could get the better
-of Burke in an argument. “Burke and I,” he said, “should have been of
-one opinion if we had had no audience.” Such a confession! There was the
-life of his friend Baretti trembling in the balance, and yet Johnson,
-solely for the sake of “showing off,” opposed the wisdom and ingenuity
-Burke exercised to save from the gallows a man whom Johnson professed to
-admire!
-
-But if we are to believe Boswell, Johnson cared very little whether his
-friend was hanged or not. As for Boswell himself, he always detested
-Baretti, and is reported to have expressed the earnest hope that the
-man would be hanged. However, the “consultations” went merrily on, and
-doubtless contributed in some measure to a satisfactory solution of the
-vexed question as to whether Johnson or Burke was the more brilliant
-talker. They formed a tolerably valid excuse for the uncorking of
-several bottles, and perhaps these friends of Baretti felt that even
-though he should die, yet the exchange of wit in the course of these
-happy evenings would live for ever in the memory of those present, so
-that after all, let the worst come to the worst, Baretti should have
-little cause for complaint.
-
-It is reported that the prisoner, upon the occasion of his receiving a
-visit from Johnson and Burke, cried: “What need a man fear who holds
-two such hands?” It may here be mentioned, however, that although it
-was asserted that Johnson and Murphy were responsible for the line
-of defence adopted at the trial, yet in after years Baretti was most
-indignant that it should be suggested that credit should be given to
-any one but himself for his defence; and he ridiculed the notion that
-Johnson or Burke or Murphy or even Boswell--himself an aspirant to the
-profession of law in which he subsequently displayed a conspicuous
-lack of distinction--had anything to do with the instruction either of
-solicitors or barristers on his behalf.
-
-At any rate, the “consultations” came to an end, and the friends of the
-accused awaited the trial with exemplary patience. Mr. Boswell seems
-suddenly to have become the most sympathetic of the friends; for three
-days before the event he took a journey to Tyburn to witness the hanging
-of several men at that place, and though it is known that the spectacle
-of a hanging never lost its charm for him, yet it is generous to assume
-that upon this occasion he went to Tyburn in order to qualify himself
-more fully for sympathising with Baretti, should the defence assigned to
-him break down.
-
-Another ardent sympathiser was Mr. Thomas Davies the bookseller, a
-gentleman whose chief distinction in the eyes of his contemporaries
-consisted--if we are to believe one of the wittiest of his
-associates--in the fact that he had an exceedingly pretty wife;
-but whose claim to the gratitude of coming generations lies in the
-circumstance of his having introduced Boswell to Johnson. Tom Davies
-was terribly cut up at the thought of the possibility of Baretti's being
-sentenced to be hanged. Boswell, on the day before the trial, after
-telling Johnson how he had witnessed the executions at Tyburn, and
-expressing his surprise that none of the wretches seemed to think
-anything of the matter, mentioned that Foote, the actor, had shown him
-a letter which he had received from Tom Davies, and in which the writer
-affirmed that he had not had a wink of sleep owing to his anxiety in
-respect of “this sad affair of Baretti,” and begging Foote to suggest
-some way by which he could be of service to the accused, adding that
-should Mr. Foote be in need of anything in the pickle line, he could
-strongly recommend him to an industrious young man who had lately set up
-in that business.
-
-Strange to say, Johnson was not impressed with this marked evidence of
-Mr. Davies' kind heart.
-
-“Ay, sir, here you have a specimen of human sympathy,” he cried. “A
-friend hanged and a cucumber pickled! We know not whether Baretti or the
-pickle man has kept Davies from sleep; nor does he know himself.”
-
-This was rather sweeping, but his dictum showed that he was rather a
-poor analyser of human emotion. In the minds of the people of to-day who
-read of Tom Davies' bad nights there is no manner of doubt whatever that
-the sequence of his emotions was to be attributed to his intimacy with
-the industrious young pickle maker. Tom had indulged rather too freely
-in some of the specimens of his art presented to him by the pickler, and
-the result was a melancholy night; and, being melancholy, he was led to
-think of the most melancholy incident that had recently come under his
-notice. When a man is full of mixed pickles he is liable to get a little
-mixed, and so in the morning he attributed his miserable night to his
-thoughts about Baretti, instead of knowing that his thoughts about
-Baretti were the natural result of his miserable night. If he had been
-acquainted with an industrious young onion merchant he might have passed
-the night in tears.
-
-“As for his not sleeping,” said Dr. Johnson, “sir, Tom Davies is a very
-great man--Tom has been on the stage, and knows how to do those things.”
-
-Boswell: “I have often blamed myself, sir, for not feeling for others as
-sensibly as many say they do.” Johnson: “Sir, don't be duped by them any
-more. You will find those very feeling people are not very ready to do
-you good. They pay you by feeling.” Mr. Boswell thought that he would
-do well to turn his friend from the subject under discussion, so he made
-the apparently harmless remark that Foote had a great deal of humour and
-that he had a singular talent of exhibiting character. But Johnson had
-on him the mood not only of “the rugged Russian bear,” but also of “the
-armed rhinoceros and the Hyrcan tiger.”
-
-“Sir, it is not a talent: it is a vice; it is what others abstain from,”
- he growled.
-
-“Did not he think of exhibiting you, sir?” inquired the tactful Mr.
-Boswell, though he knew all about Foote and Johnson long before.
-
-“Sir, fear restrained him,” said Johnson. “He knew I would have broken
-his bones. I would have saved him the trouble of cutting off a leg: I
-would not have left him a leg to cut off.”
-
-This brutal reference to the fact that Foote's recent accident had
-compelled him to have a leg amputated should surely have suggested
-to his inquisitor that he had probably been paying a visit to an
-industrious young pickle maker without Tom Davies' recommendation, or
-that he had partaken of too generous a helping of his favourite veal,
-baked with plums, and so that he would do well to leave him alone for a
-while. But no, Mr. Boswell was not to be denied.
-
-“Pray, sir, is not Foote an infidel?” he inquired. But as he himself
-had been dining with Foote the previous day, and as he possessed no more
-delicacy than a polecat, he could easily have put the question to Foote
-himself.
-
-But Johnson would not even give the man credit for his infidelity.
-
-“I do not know, sir, that the fellow is an infidel,” he said; “but if he
-is an infidel, he is an infidel as a dog is an infidel, that is to say,
-he has never thought on the subject.”
-
-In another second he was talking of Buchanan, a poet, whom he praised,
-and of Shakespeare, another poet, whom he condemned, winding up by
-saying that there were some very fine things in Dr. Young's _Night
-Thoughts_. But the most remarkable of his deliverances on this rather
-memorable evening had reference to Baretti's fate. After declaring that
-if one of his friends had just been hanged he would eat his dinner
-every bit as heartily as if his friend were still alive.--“Why, there's
-Baretti, who is to be tried for his life to-morrow,” he added; “friends
-have risen up for him on every side; yet if he should be hanged, none of
-them will eat a slice of plum pudding the less.” Happily the accuracy of
-this tender-hearted scholar's prediction had no chance of being put to
-the test. Baretti was tried and acquitted.
-
-Boswell gives only a few lines to an account of the trial, and fails
-to mention that the prisoner declined the privilege of being tried by
-a jury one half of whom should be foreigners. “It took place,” he said,
-“at the awful Sessions House, emphatically called Justice Hall,” and he
-affirms that “never did such a constellation of genius enlighten the Old
-Bailey.”
-
-He mentions that Mr. Burke, Mr. Garrick, Mr. Beauclerk, and Dr. Johnson
-gave evidence, the last-named being especially impressive, speaking in
-a slow, deliberate, and distinct tone of voice. It seems strange
-that Boswell, who was (nominally) a lawyer, when he wrote his life of
-Johnson, should say nothing whatever respecting the line of defence
-adopted by the friends of the prisoner upon this interesting occasion.
-It might have been expected that he would dwell lovingly, as a lawyer
-would certainly be pardoned for doing, upon the technical points
-involved in the trial, even though he hated Baretti. For instance, it
-would be interesting to learn why it was thought that the result of
-the trial might mean the hanging of Baretti, when from the first it was
-perfectly plain that he had acted in self-defence: not merely was he
-protecting his purse, he had actually to fight for his life against an
-acknowledged ruffian of the most contemptible type. In the present day
-if a short-sighted man of letters--say Mr. Augustine Birrell--were to be
-attacked in a dark street by three notorious scoundrels and to manage to
-kill one of them by poking the ferrule end of an umbrella into his eye,
-no one--not even a Conservative Attorney-General--would fancy that a
-grand jury at the New Old Bailey would return a true bill against him
-for the act, putting aside all question of his being found guilty and
-sentenced to be hanged. And yet in Baretti's time swords were commonly
-worn, and they were by no means toy weapons. Why should poor Tom Davies
-have a sleepless night, owing (as he believed) to his apprehension that
-his friend would be hanged in a day or two? Why was it necessary to
-dazzle the “awful Sessions House” by such “a constellation of genius” as
-had never before assembled in that “Hall of Justice”?
-
-Mr. Boswell might certainly have told us something of the actual scene
-in the court, when he has devoted so much space to the ridiculous
-dialogues between himself and Johnson, having more or less bearing upon
-the case. The course he adopted is like laying a dinner-table with
-four knives and forks and five wineglasses for every guest--in having a
-constellation of genii in plush behind every chair, and then serving
-a dinner of hashed mutton only. A great number of people believe that
-whatever Boswell may have been, he was invariably accurate. But in this
-case he does not even give a true account of the constellation of genius
-to which he refers. He only says that Burke, Garrick, Beauclerk,
-and Johnson were called as witnesses. He omits to say a word about
-Goldsmith, who was something of a genius; or Reynolds, who was quite
-a tolerable painter; or Fitzherbert, who had a wide reputation as a
-politician; or Dr. Halifax, whose evidence carried certainly as much
-weight as Johnson's. He does not even say a word respecting the evidence
-which Johnson and the others were called on to give on behalf of
-the prisoner at the bar. What is the good of telling us that the
-constellation of genius had never been paralleled within the precincts
-of the “emphatically called Justice Hall” if we are not made aware
-of some of the flashes of their genius when they were put into the
-witness-box?
-
-The truth is that Boswell had no sense of proportion any more than a
-sense of the sublime and beautiful--or, for that matter, a sense of the
-ridiculous. He was the Needy Knife Grinder--with an occasional axe of
-his own--of the brilliant circle into which he crawled, holding on to
-Johnson's skirts and half concealing himself beneath their capacious
-flaps. He had constant stories suggested to him, but he failed to see
-their possibilities. He was a knife grinder and nothing more; but at his
-own trade he was admirable; he ground away patiently at his trivialities
-respecting the man whom he never was within leagues of understanding,
-and it is scarcely fair to reproach him for not throwing away his
-grindstone, which he knew how to use, and taking to that of a diamond
-cutter, which he was incapable of manipulating. But surely he might have
-told us something more of the actual trial of Baretti instead of giving
-us page after page leading up to the trial.
-
-From other sources we learn that what all the geniuses were called on to
-testify to was the pacific character of Baretti, and this they were all
-able to do in an emphatic manner. It would seem that it was assumed that
-the prisoner, a short-sighted, middle-aged man of letters, was possessed
-of all the dangerous qualities of a bloodthirsty brigand of his own
-country--that he was a fierce and ungovernable desperado, who was in
-the habit of prowling about the purlieus of the Haymarket to do to death
-with a fruit-knife the peaceful citizens whom he might encounter. He was
-a foreigner, and he had killed an Englishman with an outlandish weapon.
-That seems to have been the reason there was for the apprehension, which
-was very general in respect of the fate of Baretti, for it was upon
-these points that his witnesses were most carefully examined.
-
-Goldsmith, Reynolds, and Garrick were very useful witnesses regarding
-the knife. They affirmed that in carrying a fruit-knife the prisoner was
-in no way departing from the recognised custom of his fellow-countrymen.
-He, in common with them, was in the habit of eating a great deal of
-fruit, so that the knife was a necessity with him.
-
-Johnson's evidence was as follows:
-
-“I have known Mr. Baretti a long time. He is a man of literature--a very
-studious man--a man of great intelligence. He gets his living by study.
-I have no reason to think he was ever disordered with liquor in his
-life. A man that I have never known to be otherwise than peaceable and
-a man that I take to be rather timorous. As to his eyesight, he does not
-see me now, nor do I see him. I do not believe he would be capable of
-assaulting anybody in the street without great provocation.”
-
-It cannot be denied that the reference to Baretti's imperfect sight told
-upon the jury, and uttered as the words were by Johnson in his dignified
-way, they could scarcely fail to produce a profound effect upon the
-court.
-
-Baretti was acquitted, and no one could presume to refer to him for the
-rest of his life except as a quiet, inoffensive, frugivorous gentleman,
-since these were the qualities with which he was endowed by a
-constellation of geniuses on their oath. He was acquitted by the jury;
-but the judge thought it well to say a few words to him before allowing
-him to leave the dock, and the drift of his discourse amounted to a
-severe censure upon his impetuosity, and the expression of a hope that
-the inconvenience to which he was put upon this occasion would act as a
-warning to him in future.
-
-Really one could hardly imagine that in those days, when every week Mr.
-Boswell had a chance of going to such an entertainment at Tyburn as he
-had attended forty-eight hours before the opening of the Sessions, the
-taking of the life of a human being was regarded with such horror. One
-cannot help recalling the remark made by Walpole a few years later,
-that, owing to the severity of the laws, England had been turned into
-one vast shambles; nor can one quite forget the particulars of the case
-which was quoted as having an intimate bearing upon this contention--the
-case in which a young wife whose husband had been impressed to serve
-in His Majesty's Fleet, and who had consequently been left without
-any means of support, had stolen a piece of bread to feed her starving
-children, and had been hanged at Tyburn for the crime.
-
-Reading the judge's censure of Baretti, who had, in preventing
-a contemptible ruffian from killing him, decreased by a unit the
-criminality of London, the only conclusion that one can come to is that
-the courts of law were very jealous of their precious prerogative to
-kill. Looking at the matter in this light, the bombastic phrase of
-Boswell does not seem so ridiculous after all; the Old Bailey had
-certainly good reason to be regarded as the “awful Sessions House.” But
-we are not so fully convinced that it had any right to be referred to
-as emphatically the Hall of Justice. In the Georgian Pageant the common
-hangman played too conspicuous a part.
-
-But the unfortunate, if impetuous, Baretti left the court a free man,
-and we cannot doubt that in the company of his friends who had stood by
-him in his hour of trial he was a good deal harder upon the judge than
-the judge had been upon him; and probably he was reproved in a grave and
-dignified manner by Dr. Johnson, Sir Joshua Reynolds standing by with
-his ear trumpet, fearful lest a single word of Johnson's wisdom should
-escape him. Doubtless Mr. Garrick, the moment Johnson's back was turned,
-gave an inimitable imitation of both Johnson and Baretti--perhaps of the
-judge as well, and most likely the usher of the court.
-
-Later on, when the avaricious Reynolds had hastened back to his studio
-in Leicester Fields to daub on canvas the figures of some of his sitters
-at the extortionate price of thirty-five guineas for a three-quarter
-length, he and Johnson put their heads together to devise what could be
-done for Baretti.
-
-For about a year Baretti resumed his old way of living, working for the
-booksellers and completing his volume of travel through Europe, by which
-it is said he made £500. It would appear, however, that all his pupils
-had transferred themselves to the enterprising gentleman who had
-appealed to him at an inopportune moment for his recommendation, or to
-some of his other brethren, for by the end of the year he was in needy
-circumstances. Meantime he had been made by Sir Joshua Reynolds Honorary
-Secretary for Foreign Correspondence to the Royal Academy, and then
-Johnson recommended him to the husband of Mrs. Thrale as tutor to her
-girls at Streatham. This was very kind to Baretti, but it was rather
-hard on the Thrales. Apparently from the first day he went to Streatham
-his attitude in regard to the Thrale family was one of spite and
-malevolence; and there can be no doubt that Johnson bitterly regretted
-his patronage of a man who seemed never to forgive any one who had done
-him a good turn.
-
-The agreement made by him with the Thrales was that he should
-practically be his own master, only residing at Streatham as a member of
-the family with no fixed salary. He was as artful as an Irish cabman in
-suggesting this “leave it to your honour” contract. He had heard on all
-hands of the liberality of Mr. Thrale, and he knew that, in addition to
-being provided with a luxurious home, he would receive presents from him
-far in excess of what he could earn. He was extremely well treated for
-the next three years, though he was for ever grumbling when he had
-a moment's leisure from insulting the Thrales and their guests. Mrs.
-Thrale said more in his favour than any one with whom he came in
-contact. She wrote: “His lofty consciousness of his own superiority
-which made him tenacious of every position, and drew him into a thousand
-distresses, did not, I must own, ever disgust me, till he began to
-exercise it against myself, and resolve to reign in our house by fairly
-defying the mistress of it. Pride, however, though shocking enough,
-is never despicable; but vanity, which he possessed too, in an eminent
-degree, will sometimes make a man near sixty ridiculous.”
-
-Assuredly Mrs. Thrale “let him down” very gently. Dr. Thomas Campbell,
-a clergyman from Ireland, gives us a glimpse of Baretti's bearing at
-Streatham. It is clear that Baretti was anxious to impress him with the
-nature of his position in the house. “He told me he had several families
-both in town and country with whom he could go at any time and spend a
-month; he is at this time on these terms at Mr. Thrale's, and he knows
-how to keep his ground. Talking, as we were at tea, of the magnitude
-of the beer vessels, he said there was one thing at Mr. Thrale's house
-still more extraordinary--his wife. She gulped the pill very prettily.
-So much for Baretti!” wrote the clergyman in a very illuminating account
-of his visit to Streatham.
-
-But not only did Mrs. Thrale bear with this detestable person for nearly
-two more years, but she and her husband took him with them and Johnson
-to Paris, where they lived in a magnificent way, the Thrales paying for
-everything. It was in a letter to Frank Levet, his domestic apothecary,
-that Johnson, writing from Paris, said: “I ran a race in the rain this
-day, and beat Baretti. Baretti is a fine fellow.” This is Johnson on
-Baretti. Here is Baretti on Johnson; on a copy of the _Piozzi Letters_
-he wrote: “Johnson was often fond of saying silly things in strong
-terms, and the silly madam”--meaning Mrs. Thrale--“never failed to echo
-that beastly kind of wit.”
-
-It was not, however, until an Italian tour, projected by Mr. Thrale, was
-postponed, that Baretti became quite unendurable. He had been presented
-by Mr. Thrale with £100 within a few months, and on the abandonment of
-the longer tour he received another £100 by way of compensation for the
-satisfaction he had been compelled to forgo in showing his countrymen
-the position to which he had attained in England. This was another act
-of generosity which he could not forgive. He became sullen and more
-cantankerous than ever, and neglected his duties in an intolerable way.
-In fact, he treated Streatham as if it were an hotel, turning up to give
-Miss Thrale a lesson at the most inconvenient hours, and then devoting
-the most of his time to poisoning the girl's mind against her mother.
-Upon one occasion he expressed the hope to her that if her mother died
-Mr. Thrale would marry Miss Whitbred, who would, he said, be a pretty
-companion for her, not tyrannical and overbearing as he affirmed her own
-mother was! Truly a nice remark for a young lady's tutor to make to her
-under her mother's roof.
-
-The fact was, however--we have Baretti's own confession for it--that he
-had been led to believe that after being with the Thrales for a year or
-two, an annuity would be settled on him by the wealthy brewer, and he
-grew impatient at his services to the family not obtaining recognition
-in this way. It is extremely unlikely that Johnson ever even so much as
-hinted at this annuity, though Baretti says his expectations were due to
-what Johnson had told him; but it is certain that he had so exalted an
-opinion of himself, he believed that after a year or two of desultory
-teaching he should receive a handsome pension. And there the old story
-of the car-driver who left the nomination of the fare to “his honour's
-honour” was repeated. Baretti one morning packed up his bag and left
-Streatham without a word of farewell.
-
-Johnson's account of his departure and his comments thereupon are worth
-notice. He wrote to Boswell:
-
-“Baretti went away from Thrales in some whimsical fit of disgust or
-ill-nature without taking any leave. It is well if he finds in any other
-place as good an habitation and as many conveniences.”
-
-On the whole it is likely that a good many of Baretti's friends felt
-rather sorry than otherwise that the jury at the Old Bailey had taken
-so merciful a view of his accident. If Johnson and Murphy were really
-responsible for the line of defence which prevailed at the trial, one
-can quite believe that the Thrales and a good many of their associates
-bore them a secret grudge for their pains.
-
-In the year 1782 he was granted by the Government the pension which he
-had failed to extort from the Thrales. It amounted to £80 per annum,
-and we may take it for granted that he had nothing but the most copious
-abuse for the Prime Minister who had only given him £80 when Sheridan
-was receiving £200 and Johnson £300. He drew his pension for seven
-years.
-
-Baretti's portrait, painted by Reynolds for the Streatham gallery,
-fetched £31 10s., the smallest price of any in the whole collection,
-on its dispersal, years after the principal actors in the scene in the
-“awful Sessions House” had gone to another world.
-
-
-
-
-THE FATAL GIFT
-
-WHEN Mr. Boswell had been snubbed, and very soundly snubbed too, by a
-Duchess, one might fancy that his ambition was fully satisfied. But he
-was possibly the most persevering of the order of _Pachydermata_ at
-that time extant; and in the matter of snubs he had the appetite of a
-leviathan. He was fired with the desire to be snubbed once more by Her
-Grace--and he was. Without waiting to catch her eye, he raised his glass
-and, bowing in her direction, said:
-
-“My Lady Duchess, I have the honour to drink Your Grace's good health.”
-
-The Duchess did not allow her conversation with Dr. Johnson to be
-interrupted by so flagrant a piece of politeness; she continued chatting
-quite pleasantly to the great man, ignoring the little one. That was how
-she had got on in life; and, indeed, a better epitome of the whole art
-of getting on in life could scarcely be compiled even by the cynical
-nobleman who wrote letters to his son instructing him in this and other
-forms of progress--including the Rake's.
-
-Mr. Boswell, who, as usual, is the pitiless narrator of the incident,
-records his satisfaction at having attained to the distinction of a snub
-from the beautiful creature at whose table he was sitting, and we are,
-as usual, deeply indebted to him for giving us an illuminating glimpse
-of the Duchess of whom at one time all England and the greater part of
-Ireland were talking. He also mentions that Her Grace made use of an
-idiom by which her Irish upbringing revealed itself. If we had not Mr.
-Boswell's account of his visit to Inveraray to refer to we might be
-tempted to believe that Horace Walpole deviated into accuracy when he
-attributed to the Duchess of Argyll, as well as her sister, the Countess
-of Coventry, the brogue of a bog-trotter. It was only by her employment
-of an idiom common to the south and west of Ireland and a few other
-parts of the kingdom, that Her Grace made him know that she had not been
-educated in England, or for that matter in Scotland, where doubtless Mr.
-Boswell fondly believed the purest English in the world was spoken.
-
-[Illustration: 0121]
-
-Mr. Boswell faithfully records--sometimes with glee and occasionally
-with pride--many snubs which he received in the course of a lifetime of
-great pertinacity, and some that he omitted to note, his contemporaries
-were obliging enough to record; but on none did he reflect with more
-satisfaction than that, or those, which he suffered in the presence of
-the Duchess of Argyll.
-
-It happened during that memorable tour to the Hebrides to which he lured
-Johnson in order to show his countrymen how great was his intimacy with
-the man who traduced them once in his Dictionary and daily in his life.
-It was like Boswell to expect that he would impress the Scottish nation
-by leading Johnson to view their fine prospects--he certainly was never
-foolish enough to hope to impress Johnson by introducing the Scottish
-nation to him. In due time, however, the exploiter and the exploited
-found themselves in the neighbourhood of Inveraray, the Duke of Argyll's
-Castle, and the stronghold of the Clan Campbell.
-
-It chanced that the head of the great family was in residence at this
-time, and Mr. Boswell hastened to apprise him of the fact that the great
-Dr. Johnson was at hand. He called at the Castle very artfully shortly
-after the dinner hour, when he believed the Duchess and her daughter
-would have retired to a drawing-room. He was successful in finding the
-Duke still at the dinner-table, the ladies having retired. In the course
-of the interview the Duke said: “Mr. Boswell, won't you have some tea?”
- and Mr. Boswell, feeling sure that the Duchess could not go very far in
-insulting him when other people were present, followed his host into
-the drawing-room. “The Duke,” he records, “announced my name, but the
-Duchess, who was sitting with her daughter, Lady Betty Hamilton, and
-some other ladies, took not the least notice of me. I should,” he
-continues, “have been mortified at being thus coldly received by a lady
-of whom I, with the rest of the world, have always entertained a very
-high admiration, had I not been consoled by the obliging attention of
-the Duke.”
-
-The Duke was, indeed, obliging enough to invite Johnson to dinner the
-next day, and Mr. Boswell was included in the invitation. (So it is that
-the nursery governess gets invited to the table in the great house
-to which she is asked to bring the pretty children in her charge.) Of
-course, Boswell belonged to a good family, and his father was a judge.
-It was to a Duke of Argyll--not the one who was now so obliging--that
-the Laird of Auchinleck brought his son, James Boswell, to be examined
-in order to find out whether he should be put into the army or some
-other profession. Still, he would never have been invited to Inveraray
-at this time or any other unless he had had charge of Johnson. No one
-was better aware of this fact than Boswell; but did he therefore decline
-the invitation? Not he. Mr. Boswell saw an opportunity ahead of him. He
-had more than once heard Johnson give an account of how he had behaved
-when the King came upon him in the Royal Library; and probably he had
-felt melancholy at the reflection that he himself had had no part or
-lot in the incident. It was all Dr. Johnson and the King. But now he was
-quick to perceive that when, in after years, people should speak with
-bated breath of Dr. Johnson's visit to Inveraray they would be compelled
-to say: “And Mr. Boswell, the son of auld Auchinleck, was there too.”
-
-He knew very well that there were good reasons why Mr. Boswell could
-not hope to be a _persona grata_ to the Duchess of Argyll. In the great
-Douglas lawsuit the issue of which was of considerable importance to the
-Duke of Hamilton, the son of Her Grace, the Boswells were on the side of
-the opposition, and had been very active on this side into the bargain.
-James Boswell himself narrowly escaped being committed for contempt
-of court for publishing a novel founded on the Douglas cause and
-anticipating in an impudent way the finding of the judges. Had the
-difference been directly with the Duke of Argyll some years earlier, no
-doubt every man in the Clan Campbell would have sharpened his skene when
-it became known that a friend of an opponent of the MacCallein More
-was coming, and have awaited his approach with complacency; but now the
-great chief tossed Boswell his invitation when he was asking Johnson,
-and Boswell jumped at it as a terrier jumps for a biscuit, and he
-accompanied his friend to the Castle.
-
-The picture which he paints of his second snubbing is done in his best
-manner. “I was in fine spirits,” he wrote, “and though sensible that I
-had the misfortune of not being in favour with the Duchess, I was not in
-the least disconcerted, and offered Her Grace some of the dish which was
-before me.” Later on he drank Her Grace's health, although, he adds, “I
-knew it was the rule of modern high life not to drink to anybody.” Thus
-he achieved the snub he sought; but he acknowledges that he thought
-the Duchess rather too severe when she said: “I know nothing of Mr.
-Boswell.” On reflection, however, he received “that kind of consolation
-which a man would feel who is strangled by a silken cord.”
-
-It seems strange that no great painter has been inspired by the theme
-and the scene. The days of “subject pictures” are, we are frequently
-told, gone by. This may be so, generally speaking, but every one knows
-that a “subject picture,” if its “subject” lends itself in any measure
-to the advertising of an article of commerce, will find a ready
-purchaser, so fine a perception of the aspirations of art--practical
-art--exists in England, and even in Scotland, in the present day.
-
-Now, are not the elements of success apparent to any one of imagination
-in this picture of the party sitting round the table in the great hall
-of Inveraray--Dr. Johnson chatting to the beautiful Duchess and her
-daughter at one side, the Duke looking uncomfortable at the other, when
-he sees Mr. Boswell on his feet with his glass in his hand bowing toward
-Her Grace? No doubt Her Grace had acquainted His Grace with the attitude
-she meant to assume in regard to Mi. Boswell, so that he was not
-astonished--only uncomfortable--when Mr. Boswell fished for his snub.
-Surely arrangements could be made between the art patron and the artist
-to paint a name and a certain brand upon the bottle--a bottle must, of
-course, be on the table; but if this is thought too realistic the name
-could easily be put on the decanter--from which Mr. Boswell has just
-replenished his glass! Why, the figure of Dr. Johnson alone should
-make the picture a success--i.e. susceptible of being reproduced as an
-effective poster in four printings. “Sir,” said Dr. Johnson, “claret for
-boys, port for men, but brandy for heroes.” Yes, but whose brandy? There
-is a hint for a great modern art patron--a twentieth-century art patron
-is a man who loves art for what he can make out of it.
-
-Dr. Johnson was unmistakably the honoured guest this day at Inveraray;
-and perhaps, while the lovely Duchess hung upon his words of wisdom, his
-memory may have gone back to a day when he was not so well known, and
-yet by some accident found himself in a room with the then Duchess of
-Argyll. Upon that occasion he had thought it due to himself to be rude
-to the great lady, in response to some fancied remissness on her
-part. He had nothing to complain of now. The Duchess with whom he
-was conversing on terms of perfect equality--if Her Grace made any
-distinction between them it was, we may rest assured, only in a way that
-would be flattering to his learning--was at the head of the peerage for
-beauty, and there was no woman in the kingdom more honoured than she had
-been. He may have been among the crowds who hung about the Mall in St.
-James's Park twenty-two years before, waiting patiently until the two
-lovely Miss Gunnings should come forth from their house in Westminster
-to take the air. The Duchess of Argyll was the younger of the two
-sisters.
-
-The story of the capture of the town by the pair of young Irish girls
-has been frequently told, and never without the word _romantic_ being
-applied to it. But really there was very little that can be called
-romantic in the story of their success. There is far more of this
-element in many of the marriages affecting the peerage in these
-unromantic days. There is real romance in the story of a young duke's
-crossing the Atlantic with a single introduction, but that to the
-daughter of a millionaire with whom he falls madly in love and whom he
-marries as soon as the lawyers can make out the settlements. There is
-real romance in the idyll of the young marquis who is fortunate
-enough to win the affection of an ordinary chorus girl; and every year
-witnesses such-like alliances--they used to be called _mésalliances_
-long ago. There have also been instances of the daughters of English
-tradesmen marrying foreign nobles, whom they sometimes divorce as
-satisfactorily as if they were the daughters of wealthy swindlers on
-the other side of the Atlantic. In such cases there are portraits
-and paragraphs in some of the newspapers, and then people forget that
-anything unusual has happened. As a matter of fact, nothing unusual has
-happened.
-
-In the romantic story of the Gunnings we have no elements of that
-romance which takes the form of a _mésalliance_. Two girls, the
-granddaughters of one viscount and the nieces of another, came to London
-with their parents one year, and early the next married peers--the elder
-an earl, the younger a duke. Like thousands of other girls, they had no
-money; but, unlike hundreds of other girls who marry into the peerage,
-they were exceptionally good-looking.
-
-Where is there an element of romance in all this? The girls wedded men
-in their own station in life, and, considering their good looks,
-they should have done very much better for themselves. The duke was a
-wretched _roué_, notable for his excesses even in the days when excess
-was not usually regarded as noteworthy. He had ruined his constitution
-before he was twenty, and he remained enfeebled until, in a year or
-two, he made her a widow. The earl was a conceited, ill-mannered prig--a
-solemn, contentious, and self-opinionated person who was deservedly
-disliked in the town as well as the country.
-
-Not a very brilliant marriage either of these. With the modern chorus
-girl the earl is on his knees at one side, and the gas man on the other.
-But with the Miss Gunnings it was either one peer or another. They were
-connected on their mother's side with at least two families of nobility,
-and on their father's side with the spiritual aristocracy of some
-generations back: they were collateral descendants of the great Peter
-Gunning, Chancellor of Oxford and Bishop of Ely, and he was able to
-trace his lineage back to the time of Henry VIII. From a brother of this
-great man was directly descended the father of the two girls and also
-Sir Robert Gunning, Baronet, who held such a high post in the diplomatic
-service as Minister Plenipotentiary to Berlin, and afterwards to St.
-Petersburg. Members of such families might marry into the highest order
-of the peerage without the alliance being criticised as “romantic.” The
-girls did not do particularly well for themselves. They were by birth
-entitled to the best, and by beauty to the best of the best. As it was,
-the one only became the wife of a contemptible duke, the other of a
-ridiculous earl. It may really be said that they threw themselves away.
-
-Of course, it was Walpole's gossip that is accountable for much of the
-false impression which prevailed in respect of the Gunnings. From the
-first he did his best to disparage them. He wrote to Mann that they were
-penniless, and “scarce gentlewomen.” He could not ignore the fact that
-their mother was the Honourable Bridget Gunning; but, without knowing
-anything of the matter, he undertook to write about the “inferior tap”
- on their father's side. In every letter that he wrote at this time he
-tried to throw ridicule upon them, alluding to them as if they were
-nothing better than the barefooted colleens of an Irish mountain-side
-who had come to London to seek their fortunes. As usual, he made all
-his letters interesting to his correspondents by introducing the latest
-stories respecting them; he may not have invented all of these, but
-some undoubtedly bear the Strawberry Hill mark, and we know that Walpole
-never suppressed a good tale simply because it possessed no grain of
-truth.
-
-Now, the true story of the Gunnings can be ascertained without
-any reference to Walpole's correspondence. Both girls were born in
-England--the elder, Maria, in 1731, the younger in 1732. When they were
-still young their father, a member of the English Bar, inherited his
-brother's Irish property. It had once been described as a “tidy estate,”
- but it was now in a condition of great untidiness. In this respect it
-did not differ materially from the great majority of estates in
-Ireland. Ever since the last “settlement” the country had been in a
-most unsettled condition, and no part of it was worse than the County
-Roscommon, where Castle Coote, the residence of the Gunning family, was
-situated. It might perhaps be going too far to say that the wilds of
-Connaught were as bad as the wilds of Yorkshire at the same date, but
-from all the information that can be gathered on the subject there does
-not seem to have been very much to choose between Roscommon and the
-wilder parts of Yorkshire. The peasantry were little better than
-savages; the gentry were little worse. Few of the elements of civilized
-life were to be found among the inhabitants. The nominal owners of the
-land were content to receive tribute from their tenantry in the form of
-the necessaries of life, for money as a standard of exchange was rarely
-available. Even in the present day in many districts in the west
-of Ireland cattle occupy the same place in the imagination of the
-inhabitants as they do in Zululand. The Irish bride is bargained away
-with so many cows; and for a man to say--as one did in the very county
-of Roscommon the other day--that he never could see the difference of
-two cows between one girl and another, may be reckoned somewhat cynical,
-but it certainly is intelligible.
-
-But if rent was owing--and it usually was--and if it was not paid in the
-form of geese, or eggs, or pork, or some other products of low farming
-and laziness, it remained unpaid; for the landlord had no means of
-enforcing his claims by any law except the law of the jungle. He might
-muster his followers and plunder his debtors, and no doubt this system
-of rent-collecting prevailed for several years after one of the many
-“settlements” of the country had taken place, yet by intermarriage with
-the natives, and a general assimilation to their condition of life by
-the newcomers, these raids for rent became unpopular and impracticable.
-The consequence was that the landlords--such as remained on their
-estates--were living from hand to mouth.
-
-But if the fact that the King's writ failed to run in these parts was
-of disadvantage to the landlords in one respect, it was of no
-inconsiderable advantage to them in another; for it enabled them with
-a light heart to contract debts in Dublin and in the chief towns. They
-knew that the rascally process server, should he have the hardihood to
-make any attempt to present them with the usual summons, would do so at
-the risk of his life; and a knowledge of this fact made the “gentry” at
-once reckless and lawless. The consequence was that Ireland was regarded
-as no place for a man with any respect for his neighbours or for himself
-to live in. It became the country of the agent and the squireen.
-
-It was to one of the worst parts of this country that John Gunning
-brought his wife and four children--the eldest was eight years and
-the youngest three months--and here he tried to support them off the
-“estate.” He might possibly have succeeded if his aspirations had been
-humble and his property unencumbered. It so happened, however, that his
-father had been the parent of sixteen children, and the estate was still
-charged with the maintenance of ten of these. Thus hampered, Mr. Gunning
-and the Honourable Bridget Gunning were compelled to adopt the mode of
-life of the other gentry who were too poor to live out of Ireland,
-and they allowed the education of their family to become a minor
-consideration to that of feeding them.
-
-Mr. Gunning and his wife were undoubtedly the originals of the type of
-Irish lady and gentleman to be found in so many novels and plays of
-the latter part of the eighteenth and the first half of the nineteenth
-centuries. He was the original “heavy father” who, with the addition
-of a ridiculous nondescript brogue, was so effectively dealt with by
-numerous writers until Thackeray took him in hand; and Mrs. Gunning was
-the first of the tradition of Irish mothers with daughters to dispose of
-by the aid of grand manners and a great deal of contriving. True to this
-tradition, which originated with them, the lady was certainly the
-head of the household--a sorry household it must have been at Castle
-Coote--during the ten years that elapsed before the migration to
-England.
-
-Mr. Gunning was a fine figure of a gentleman, a handsome, loquacious
-person with a great sense of his own dignity and an everlasting
-consciousness of the necessity to maintain it at something approximate
-to its proper level, and, like other persons of the same stamp, never
-particularly successful in the means employed to effect this object. It
-is doubtful if a loud conversational style, with repeated references to
-the brilliant past of his family and predictions as to the still more
-brilliant future that would have been achieved by its representative but
-for the outrageous fortune that flung him into the bogs of Roscommon,
-produced a more vivid impression upon his associates in Ireland than it
-would be likely to do among a more credulous community. In Ireland he
-resembled the young gentleman who went to educate the French, but was
-discouraged at the outset when he found that even the children in the
-streets spoke better French than he did. Mr. Gunning could teach the
-Irish squireens nothing in the way of boasting; and he soon found that
-they were capable of giving him some valuable instruction as to the
-acquiring of creditors and their subsequent evasion. Whatever their
-educational deficiencies may have been, it must be admitted that they
-had mastered these arts. Much as he despised his ancestral home, he
-found, after repeated visits to Dublin, that his heart was, after all,
-in Castle Coote, and that, for avoiding arrest for debt, there was no
-place like home.
-
-The Honourable Mrs. Gunning must have become dreadfully tired of this
-florid person and of the constant worry incidental to the control of
-such a household as his must have been. Her life must have been spent
-contriving how the recurrent crises could be averted, and so long as she
-was content to remain in the seclusion of the Irish village her efforts
-were successful. We do not hear that the bailiffs ever got so far as the
-hall door of their ramshackle mansion; there was a bog very handy, and
-the holes which served as a rudimentary system of natural drainage
-were both deep and dark. The topography of the district was notoriously
-puzzling to the officers from the Dublin courts.
-
-But with all her success in this direction one maybe pretty sure that
-her life must have been very burthensome to the Honourable Mrs. Gunning.
-She had social ambitions, as befitted a daughter of a noble house, and
-on this account she never allowed herself to sink to the level of the
-wives of the squireens around her, who were quite content with the rude
-jollity of an Irish household--with the “lashings and leavings” to eat,
-and with the use of tumblers instead of wineglasses at table. She was
-the daughter of a peer, and she never forgot this fact; and here it must
-be mentioned that, however culpably she may have neglected the education
-of her children in some respects, she took care that they avoided the
-provincial brogue of their Irish neighbours.
-
-Perhaps it was because Walpole knew nothing of the tradition of the
-English settlers in Ireland that he referred in his letters to various
-correspondents to the appalling brogue of both the Gunning girls; or
-perhaps he, as usual, aimed only at making his correspondence more
-amusing by this device. But every one who knows something of the
-“settlements” is aware of the fact that the new-comers had such a
-contempt for the native way of pronouncing English that they were most
-strenuous in their efforts to hand down to their children the tradition
-of pronunciation which they brought into the country. They were not
-always so successful as they wished to be; but within our own times the
-aspiration after a pure “English accent” is so great that even in the
-National Schools the teachers, the larger number of whom bear Celtic
-names, have been most industrious both in getting rid of their native
-brogue and in compelling their pupils to do the same; and yet it is
-certain that people have been much more tolerant in this respect in
-Ireland during the past half-century than they were a hundred years
-earlier.
-
-Of course, a scientific analysis of the pronunciation of the English
-language by, say, a native of the wilds of Yorkshire and by a native of
-the wilds of Connemara would reveal the fact that fewer corruptions of
-the speech are habitual to the latter than to the former, the “brogue”
- being far less corrupt than the “burr.” It was not enough for the
-settlers, however, that their children should speak English in Ireland
-more correctly than their forefathers did in England; they insisted on
-the maintenance of the English tradition of pronunciation, erroneous
-though it might be. So that the suggestion that the daughters of the
-Gunning family, who had never heard English spoken with the brogue of
-the native Irish until they were eight or nine years of age, spoke the
-tongue of the stage Irish peasant would seem quite ridiculous to any
-one who had given even the smallest amount of study to the conditions
-of speech prevailing in Ireland even in the present tolerant age,
-when employment is not denied to any one speaking with the broadest of
-brogues. Some years ago such an applicant would have had no chance of
-a “billet”--unless, in a literal sense, to hew, with the alternative of
-the drawing of water.
-
-The truth, then, is that the Gunning girls had practically neither more
-nor less of that form of education to be acquired from the study of
-books or “lessons” than the average young woman of their own day who had
-been “neglected.” Between the years 1750 and 1800 there were in England
-hundreds of young ladies who were as highly educated as a junior-grade
-lady clerk in the Post Office Department is to-day; but there were
-also thousands who were as illiterate as the Gunnings without any one
-thinking that it mattered much one way or another.
-
-[Illustration: 0139]
-
-And it really did not matter much that Maria Gunning spelt as vaguely as
-did Shakespere, or Shakspere, or Shakespeare, or Shakspear, or whatever
-he chose to write himself at the moment. Correctness of orthography is
-absolutely necessary for any young lady who wishes to be a success in
-the Postal Department, but Miss Gunning possessed some qualifications of
-infinitely greater importance in the estimation of the world. She was of
-good family and she was beautiful exceedingly. Moreover, she possessed
-the supreme grace of naturalness--the supreme grace and that which
-includes all other graces, which, like butterflies, hover over
-womankind, but seldom descend in a bevy upon any one of the race. She
-was as natural as a lily flower, and for the same reason. To be natural
-il came to her by Nature, and that was how she won the admiration of
-more people than the beauty of Helen of Troy brought to their death. She
-was not wise. But had she been wise she would never have left Ireland.
-She would have known that obscurity is the best friend that any young
-woman so beautiful as she was could have. She would have remained in
-Roscommon, and she would have been one of those women who are happy
-because they have no story. But, of course, had she been wise she would
-not have been natural, and so there her beauty goes by the board in a
-moment.
-
-The Honourable Mrs. Gunning could not have been startled when
-the knowledge came to her that she was the mother of two girls of
-exceptional beauty. The same knowledge comes to every mother of two
-girls in the world, though this knowledge is sometimes withheld from
-the rest of the world; but even then the mother's faith is not
-shaken--except in regard to the eyesight of the rest of the world.
-Doubtless Mrs. Gunning thought much better of Ireland when she found
-that her judgment on the beauty of her daughters was shared by all the
-people who saw the girls. From the daily exclamation of wonder--the
-exaggerated expressions of appreciation uttered by a fervent
-peasantry--when the girls were seen in their own kitchen or on the
-roadside, the mother's ambition must have received a fresh stimulus. And
-given an ambitious mother, whose life has been one of contriving to do
-things that seem out of her power to accomplish, the achievement of
-her object is only a matter of time--provided that the father does not
-become an obstruction. Mrs. Gunning was not extravagant in her longings.
-Her Delectable Mountains were those which surround the City of Dublin.
-Her social ambitions did not extend beyond “The Castle.”
-
-When the eldest of her three daughters was scarcely nineteen the
-aggregation of savings and credit--the latter predominant--seemed
-sufficient to justify the expedition. A house was taken in a fashionable
-street, close to the most splendid Mall in Europe, and furnished by some
-credulous tradesmen, and the social campaign was begun by a parade of
-the two girls and their mother. Alas! the young beauties attracted
-only too much attention. The inquiries as to their style and title were
-unfortunately not limited. In Dublin for generations the tradespeople
-have been accustomed to take an intelligent and quite intelligible
-interest in the aristocracy and beauty dwelling in their midst; and it
-took only a few days for the report to go round that the exquisite young
-ladies were the daughters of Mr. John Gunning, of Castle Coote.
-
-This information meant much more to some of the least desirable of
-the inquirers than it did to the wealthy and well connected of the
-population; and among the least desirable of all were some tradesmen who
-for years had had decrees waiting to be executed against Mr. Gunning at
-a more convenient place for such services than Castle Coote. The result
-was that within a week the beauty of his daughters had made such a stir
-in Dublin that bailiffs were in the house and Mr. Gunning was out of it.
-
-It is at this point in the history that the Troubadour unslings his
-lute, feeling the potentialities of Romance in the air; and, given the
-potentialities of Romance and the wandering minstrel, one may be sure
-that the atmosphere will resound with Romance. We are told on such high
-authority as is regarded quite satisfactory (by the Troubadour), that
-the weeping of the mother and the beautiful girls under the coarse stare
-of the bailiffs attracted the attention of a charming and sympathetic
-young actress who was taking the air in the street, and that, as might
-only be expected, she hastened to enter the house to offer consolation
-to those who were in trouble--this being unquestionably the mission
-which is most congenial to the spirit of the _soubrette_. On being at
-once informed of all by the communicative mother--the Troubadour is not
-such a fool as to lay down his lute to inquire if it was likely that a
-lady who possessed her full share of Irish pride would open her heart
-to a stranger and an actress--the young visitor showed her sympathy by
-laying herself open to prosecution and imprisonment through helping in
-a scheme to make away with all the valuables she could lay her hands on.
-But she went still further, and invited the young ladies to stay at her
-house so long as it suited them to do so.
-
-We are told that this young actress was George Ann Bellamy, but the
-information comes from no better source than George Ann Bellamy herself,
-and the statements of this young person, made when she was no longer
-young or reputable, do not carry conviction to all hearers. Romance,
-however, like youth, will not be denied, though the accuracy of an
-actress may, and people have always been pleased to believe that Miss
-Bellamy and Mr. Thomas Sheridan, the much-harassed lessee of the Smock
-Alley Theatre in Dublin, were the means of obtaining for the Honourable
-Mrs. Gunning and her daughters the invitation to the ball at the Castle
-which resulted in the recognition of the girls' beauty by the great
-world of fashion. The suggestion that their aunt, Miss Bourke, or
-their uncle, Viscount Mayo, might have been quite as potent a factor in
-solving the problem of how the invitation to a ball given by the Viceroy
-to the people of Dublin came into the hands of the Miss Gunnings, may,
-however, be worth a moment's consideration.
-
-At any rate, the success made by the girls upon this occasion was
-immediate. Before a day had passed all Dublin and Dublin Castle were
-talking of their beauty, and the splendid Mall was crowded with people
-anxious to catch a glimpse of the lovely pair when they took their walks
-abroad. Lady Caroline Petersham, the charming lady whose name figures
-frequently in Walpole's correspondence--it will be remembered that she
-was one of that delightful little supper party at Ranelagh which he
-describes--was in the entourage of the Viceroy, and quickly perceived
-the possibilities of social prestige accruing to the hostess who might
-be the means of introducing them to St. James's. There a new face meant
-a new sensation lasting sometimes well into a second month, and Lady
-Caroline had her ambitions as a hostess.
-
-She was the Gunnings' best friend--assuming that social advancement is
-an act of friendship--and it may safely be assumed that she was mainly
-responsible for the extension of the area of the campaign entered on by
-Mrs. Gunning, and that it was her influence which obtained for them the
-passage to Chester in the Lord Lieutenant's yacht, and a bonus of £150
-charged, as so many other jobs were, “upon the Irish Establishment.”
- The “Irish Establishment” was the convenient Treasury out of which money
-could be paid without the chance of unpleasant questions being asked in
-Parliament respecting such disbursements.
-
-Of course, it is not to be believed that such success as the young girls
-encompassed in Dublin was reached without a word or two of detraction
-being heard in regard to their behaviour. Mrs. Delany, amiable as
-a moral gossip, or perhaps, a gossipy moralist, wrote to her sister
-respecting them: “All that you have heard of the Gunnings is true,
-except their having a fortune, but I am afraid they have a greater want
-than that, which is discretion.” No doubt Mrs. Delany had heard certain
-whispers of the girlish fun in which the elder of the sisters delighted;
-but there has never been the smallest suggestion that her want of
-discreetness ever approached an actual indiscretion. It may be assumed,
-without doing an injustice to either of the girls, that their standard
-of demeanour was not quite so elevated as that which the wife of Dean
-Delany was disposed to regard as essential to be reached by any young
-woman hoping to be thought well of by her pastors and masters. But the
-steelyard measure was never meant to be applied to a high-spirited young
-girl who has grown up among bogs and then finds herself the centre of
-the most distinguished circle in the land, every person in which is
-eagerly striving for the distinction of a word from her lips. Maria
-Gunning may not have had much discretion, but she had enough to serve
-her turn. She arrived in London with her sister, and no suggestion was
-ever made--even by Walpole--that their mother had not taken enough care
-of them.
-
-In London they at once found their place in the centre of the most
-fashionable--the most notorious--set; but while we hear of the many
-indiscreet things that were done by certain of their associates, nothing
-worse is attributed to either of the girls than an Irish brogue or an
-Irish idiom--perhaps a word or two that sounded unmusical to fastidious
-ears. Walpole began by ridiculing them, and, as has already been noted,
-sneering at their birth; but when he found they were becoming the
-greatest social success that his long day had known, he thought it
-prudent to trim his sails and refer to them more reasonably: they were
-acquiring too many friends for it to be discreet for him to continue
-inventing gossip respecting them.
-
-But what a triumph they achieved in town! Nothing had ever been known
-like it in England, nor has anything approaching to it been known during
-the century and a half that has elapsed since the beauty of these two
-girls captured London. The opening of Parliament by the King in State
-never attracted such crowds as thronged the Park when they walked in the
-Mall. Never before had the guards to turn out at the Palace to disperse
-the crowds who mobbed two young ladies who did not belong--except in a
-distant way--to a Royal House. Upon one occasion the young Lord Clermont
-and his friend were compelled to draw their swords to protect them from
-the exuberant attentions of the crowd. “'Tis a warm day,” wrote George
-Selwyn to Lord Carlisle, “and some one proposes a stroll to Betty's
-fruit shop; suddenly the cry is raised, 'The Gunnings are coming,' and
-we all tumble out to gaze and to criticise.”
-
-“The famous beauties are more talked of than the change in the
-Ministry,” wrote Walpole. “They make more noise than any one of their
-predecessors since Helen of Troy; a crowd follows them wherever they
-walk, and at Vauxhall they were driven away.”
-
-This mobbing must have caused the girls much delightful inconvenience,
-and one can see their mother acting the part--and overdoing it, after
-the manner of her kind--of the distracted parent whose daughters have
-just been restored to her arms. One can hear the grandiloquent thanks
-of the father to the eligible young man with titles whose bravery
-has protected his offspring--that would have been his word--from the
-violence of the mob. The parents must have been very trying to the young
-men in those days. But the mother showed herself to be rather more
-than a match for one young man who hoped to win great fame as a
-jocular fellow by playing a trick upon the family. Having heard of the
-simplicity and credulousness of the girls, this gentleman, with another
-of his kind, asked leave of Mrs. Gunning to bring to her house a certain
-duke who was one of the greatest _partis_ of the day. On her complying,
-he hired a common man, and, dressing him splendidly, conveyed him in
-a coach to the Gunnings' house and presented him to the family as
-the duke. But the man knew as little of the matter as did Walpole; he
-assumed that she was nothing more than the adventurous wife of an Irish
-squireen. He soon found out that he had made a mistake. Mrs. Gunning
-rang the bell, and ordered the footman to turn the visitors out of
-the house. But the family were soon consoled for this incident of the
-impostor duke by the arrival of a real one, to say nothing of another
-consolation prize in the form of an earl. In the meantime, however,
-their popularity-had been increasing rather than diminishing. As a
-matter of fact, although beauty may be reproached for being only skin
-deep, it is very tenacious of life. A reputation for beauty is perhaps
-the most enduring of all forms of notoriety. The renown that attaches to
-the man who has painted a great picture, or to one who has made a great
-scientific discovery, or to one who has been an eminent churchman or a
-distinguished statesman, is, in point of popularity and longevity, quite
-insignificant in comparison with that which is associated with the
-name of a very beautiful woman. The crowds still surrounded the Miss
-Gunnings, and the visit which they paid by command to King George II
-gave them a position in the world of fashion that was consolidated by
-the report of the charming _naivete_ of the reply made by Maria when the
-King inquired if they had seen all the sights of London and if there
-was any in particular which they would like to be shown. “Oh, I should
-dearly like to see a coronation!” the girl is said to have cried. And as
-that was just the sight for which the people of England were most eager,
-she was acclaimed as their mouthpiece.
-
-So they progressed in the career that had been laid out for them. Duels
-were fought about them, and bets were made about them and their future.
-For nearly a year there was no topic of the first order save only the
-Progress of Beauty. The Duke had come boldly forward. He was a double
-duke--his titles were Hamilton and Brandon--and he had sounded such
-depths of depravity that he was possibly sincere in his desire to
-convince the world that his taste in one direction had not become
-depraved. Elizabeth Gunning may have accepted his service from a hope of
-being the means of reforming him. But even if she were not to succeed in
-doing so, her mother would have reminded her that her failure would not
-make her the less a duchess. It is open, however, for one to believe
-that this girl cared something for the man and was anxious to amend his
-life.
-
-Then we hear of her being with him at Lord Chesterfield's ball given
-at the opening of his new mansion, her fancy dress being that of a
-Quakeress. Three days later the world in which they lived awoke to learn
-the astounding news that the Duke of Hamilton and Brandon had married
-Elizabeth Gunning the previous night.
-
-Here was romance beyond a precedent; and Walpole romanced about it
-as usual. In his account of the nuptials he succeeds in making more
-misstatements than one would believe it possible even for such a worker
-in the art to encompass in half a dozen lines. “When her mother and
-sister were at Bedford House,” he wrote to Mann, “a sudden ardour,
-either of wine or love, seized upon him (the Duke); a parson was
-promptly sent for, but on arriving, refused to officiate without the
-important essentials of licence or ring. The Duke swore and talked of
-calling in the Archbishop. Finally the parson's scruples gave way, the
-licence was overlooked, and the lack of the traditional gold ring was
-supplied by the ring of a bed curtain!”
-
-This is very amusing, but it is not history. It is a clumsy fiction,
-unworthy of the resources of the inventor. Sir Horace Mann must have
-felt that his friend had a poor opinion of his intelligence if he meant
-him to accept the assurance that the household of the Gunnings and the
-fingers of His Grace were incapable of yielding to the fastidious parson
-a better substitute for the traditional gold ring than the thing he
-introduced. The facts of the incident were quite romantic enough without
-the need for Walpole's embellishments. It was Valentine's Day, and what
-more likely than that the suggestion should be made by the ardent
-lover that so appropriate a date for a wedding would not come round for
-another year! To suggest difficulties--impossibility--would only be to
-spur him on to show that he was a true lover. However this may be, it
-has long ago been proved that the midnight marriage took place in due
-form at the Curzon Street Chapel in the presence of several witnesses.
-
-And then Walpole went on to say that the wedding of Lord Coventry and
-the elder sister took place at the same time. It so happened, however,
-that a fortnight elapsed between the two ceremonies, and in the case of
-the second, the ceremony took place in the full light of day.
-
-The subsequent history of the two ladies is not without a note of
-melancholy. The elder, pursued to the end by the malevolent slanders
-of the man with the leer of the satyr perpetually on his face, died of
-consumption after eight years of wedded life. The younger became a widow
-two years earlier, and after being wooed by the Duke of Bridgewater,
-whom she refused, sending him to his canal for consolation, married
-Colonel Campbell, who in 1770 became the Fifth Duke of Argyll. Six
-years later she was created a peeress in her own right, her title
-being Baroness Hamilton of Hameldon in Leicestershire. In 1778 she
-was appointed Mistress of the Robes. She attained to the additional
-distinction of making the good Queen jealous, so that Her Majesty upon
-one occasion overlooked her in favour of Lady Egremont. The Duchess at
-once resigned, and only with difficulty was persuaded to withdraw her
-resignation. She died in 1790.
-
-
-
-
-THE FÊTE-CHAMPÊTRE
-
-NO one knows to-day with whom the idea of having an English
-_fête-champêtre_ at The Oaks upon the occasion of the marriage of the
-young Lord Stanley to Lady Betty Hamilton originated. The secret
-was well kept; and it can be easily understood that in case of this
-innovation proving a fiasco, no one would show any particular desire to
-accept the responsibility of having started the idea. But turning out as
-it did, a great success, it might have been expected that many notable
-persons would lay claim to be regarded as its parents. A considerable
-number of distinguished people had something to do with it, and any
-one of them had certainly sufficient imagination, backed up by an
-acquaintance with some of the exquisite pieces of MM. Watteau and
-Fragonard, to suggest the possibility of perfecting such an enterprise
-even in an English June. It was the most diligent letter-writer of that
-age of letter-writing who had referred to the “summer setting in with
-its customary severity,” so that the trifling of the month of June
-with the assumption of the poets who have rhymed of its sunshine with
-rapture, was not an experience that was reserved for the century that
-followed. But in spite of this, the idea of a _fête-champêtre_, after
-the most approved French traditions, in an English demesne found favour
-in the eyes of Lord Stanley and his advisers, and the latter were
-determined that, whatever price might have to be paid for it, they would
-not run the chance of being blamed for carrying it out in a niggardly
-spirit.
-
-The young Lord Stanley had as many advisers as any young nobleman with
-a large immediate allowance and prospects of a splendid inheritance may
-hope to secure. There was his _fiancée's_ mother, now the Duchess of
-Argyll, who was never disposed to frown down an undertaking that would
-place a member of one of her families in the forefront of the battle of
-the beauties for the most desirable _parti_ of the year.
-
-[Illustration: 0155]
-
-The Duchess had both taste and imagination, so that people called her an
-Irishwoman, although she was born in England. Then there was Mr. George
-Selwyn, who said witty things occasionally and never missed a hanging.
-He was fully qualified to prompt a wealthy companion as to the best
-means to become notorious for a day. There was also young Mr. Conway,
-the gentleman who originated the diverting spectacle when Mrs. Baddeley
-and Mrs. Abington were escorted to the Pantheon. Any one of these, to
-say nothing of Lady Betty herself, who had some love for display, might
-have been inclined to trust an English June so far as to believe an _al
-fresco_ entertainment on a splendid scale quite possible.
-
-On the whole, however, one is inclined to believe that it was Colonel
-Burgoyne who was responsible for the whole scheme at The Oaks. In
-addition to having become Lord Stanley's uncle by running away with
-his father's sister, he was a budding dramatist, and as such must have
-perceived his opportunity for exploiting himself at the expense of
-some one else--the dream of every budding dramatist. There is every
-likelihood that it was this highly accomplished and successful
-“gentleman-adventurer” who brought Lord Stanley up to the point of
-embarking upon his design for an entertainment such as had never
-been seen in England before--an entertainment that should include the
-production of a masque devised by Colonel Burgoyne and entitled _The
-Maid of The Oaks_. The fête came off, and it was pronounced the most
-brilliant success of the year 1774.
-
-Lord Stanley was a very interesting young man; that is to say, he was
-a young man in whom no inconsiderable number of persons--mainly of the
-opposite sex--were greatly interested. Of this fact he seems to have
-been fully aware. A good many people--mainly of the opposite sex--felt
-very strongly on the subject of his marrying: it was quite time that he
-married, they said. His grandfather, the Earl of Derby, was eighty-four
-years of age, and it would be absurd to believe that he could live much
-longer. Lord Stanley being his heir, it was agreed that it was the young
-man's duty not to procrastinate in the matter of marriage. It is always
-understood that a patriarchal nobleman sings “_Nunc dimittis_” when he
-holds in his arms the second in direct succession to the title, and this
-happy consummation could, in the case of the aged Lord Derby, only be
-realised by the marriage of Lord Stanley.
-
-He was small in stature, and extremely plain of countenance; still
-this did not prevent his name from being coupled with that of several
-notable--but not too notable--young women of his acquaintance. But as
-it was well known that he was greatly interested in the stage, it
-was thought that, perhaps, he might not be so complaisant as his best
-friends hoped to find him in regard to marrying. An ardent interest in
-the progress of the drama, especially in its lighter forms, has been
-known to turn a young man's attention from marriage, when it does not do
-what is far worse--turn his attention to it with too great zest. Before
-long, however, it became apparent that his lordship recognised in what
-direction his duty lay. There was a young lady connected with the Ducal
-House of Bedford--a niece of that old Duchess who played so conspicuous
-a part in the social and political history of the middle of the
-eighteenth century--and to her Lord Stanley became devoted. But just
-when every one assumed that the matter was settled, no one thinking
-it possible that the young lady would be mad enough to refuse such a
-_parti_, the news came that she had done so; and before people had
-done discussing how very eccentric were the Bedford connections,
-the announcement was made that Lord Stanley was to marry Lady Betty
-Hamilton, the beautiful daughter of a beautiful mother, the Duchess of
-Argyll.
-
-There is in existence a letter written by the Duchess to Sir William
-Hamilton, in which she hints that Lord Stanley was an old suitor for the
-hand of her daughter. “Lady Betty might have taken the name of Stanley
-long ago if she had chose it,” she wrote, adding: “A very sincere
-attachment on his side has at last produced the same on hers.” This
-being so, it would perhaps be unsafe to assume that Lord Stanley
-proposed to Lady Betty out of pique at having been rejected by the other
-lady, though one might be disposed to take this view of the engagement.
-
-The alternative view is that Lady Betty had been advised by her
-accomplished mother that if she played her cards well there was no
-reason why she should not so attract Lord Stanley as to lead him to be a
-suitor for her hand, and that the girl at last came to see that the
-idea was worth her consideration. Her portrait, painted by Sir Joshua
-Reynolds in the year of her marriage, shows her to have been a graceful,
-girlish young creature; but her beauty could never have been comparable
-with that of her mother at the same age, or with that of her aunt, Lady
-Coventry, whom it is certain she closely resembled in character. Her
-mother, in her letter to Sir William Hamilton, apologises in a way
-for her liveliness, assuring him that such a disposition was not
-incompatible with serious thought upon occasions; and this gives us
-a hint that the reputation for vivacity which she always enjoyed was
-closely akin to that which made the life of Lady Coventry so very
-serious.
-
-This was the young lady in whose honour the first English _fête
-champêtre_ was organised. To be more exact, or to get more into touch
-with the view of the Derby family, perhaps one should say that the
-_fête_ was set on foot in consideration of the honour the young lady
-was doing herself in becoming a member of the great house of
-Stanley. Different people look at a question of honour from different
-standpoints. Probably Colonel Burgoyne, although a member of the Derby
-family by marriage, left honour out of the question altogether, and only
-thought of his masque being produced at his nephew's expense.
-
-And produced the masque was, and on a scale as expensive as the most
-ambitious author could desire. It was described, with comments, by all
-the great letter-writers of the time. Walpole has his leer and his sneer
-at its expense (literally). It was to cost no less than £5000, he said,
-and he ventured to suppose that in order to account for this enormous
-outlay Lord Stanley had bought up all the orange trees near London--no
-particular extravagance one would fancy--and that the hay-cocks would be
-of straw-coloured riband. George Selwyn thought it far from diverting.
-The Dowager Lady Gower affirmed that “all the world was there,” only she
-makes an exception of her relations the Bedfords--she called them “the
-Bloomsbury lot”--and said that the Duchess would not let any of them go
-because Her Grace thought that Lord Stanley should have taken his recent
-rejection by Her Grace's niece more to heart. Lady Betty's stepfather,
-the Duke of Argyll, said that the whole day was so long and fatiguing
-that only Lady Betty could have stood it all.
-
-But did Lady Betty stand it all? It was rumoured in the best-informed
-circles that she had broken off the match the next day; and when one
-becomes acquainted with the programme of the day's doings one cannot but
-acknowledge that the rumour was plausible. She probably made an attempt
-in this direction; but on her fiancé's promising never to repeat the
-offence, withdrew her resolution.
-
-The famous brothers Adam, whose genius was equally ready to build
-an Adelphi or to design a fanlight, had been commissioned to plan an
-entertainment on the most approved French models and to carry it out on
-the noblest scale, taking care, of course, that the central idea should
-be the masque of _The Maid of The Oaks_, and these large-minded artists
-accepted the order without demur. The pseudo-classical feeling entered,
-largely through the influence of the Adams, into every form of art at
-this period, though the famous brothers cannot be accused of originating
-the movement. Sir Joshua Reynolds painted his most charming ladies in
-the costume of Greeks, and Angelica Kauffmann depicted many of her early
-English episodes with the personages clad in togas which seemed greatly
-beyond their control. But for that matter every battle piece up to
-the date of Benjamin West's “Death of Wolfe” showed the combatants in
-classical armour; and Dr. Johnson was more than usually loud in his
-protests against the suggestion that a sculptor should put his statues
-of modern men into modern clothing.
-
-But the Adams were wise enough to refrain from issuing any order as to
-the costume to be worn by the shepherds and shepherdesses who were
-to roam the mead at The Oaks, Epsom, upon the occasion of this _fête
-champêtre_; and they were also wise enough to distrust the constancy of
-an English June. The result was (1) a charming medley of costume, though
-the pseudo-pastoral peasants, farmers, gardeners, and shepherds were in
-the majority, and (2) the most interesting part of the entertainments
-took place indoors, the octagonal hall lending itself nobly--when
-improved by Messrs. Adam--to the show. The “transparencies” which
-constituted so important a part of the ordinary birthday celebrations
-of the time, took the form of painted windows, and, later, of a
-device showing two of the conventional torches of Hymen in full blaze,
-supporting a shield with the Oak of the Hamiltons' crest and the usual
-“gules.”
-
-This design occupied the place of the “set piece” which winds up a
-modern display of fireworks and sets the band playing “God save the
-King.” It could not have been brought on until the morning sunlight
-was flooding the landscape outside; for supper was not served until
-half-past eleven, and the company had to witness the representation of
-an intolerably long masque--the second of the day--after supper, with a
-procession of Druids, fauns, cupids, and nymphs, all in suitable, but it
-is to be hoped not traditional, costume.
-
-The entertainment began quite early in the afternoon, when there was
-a long procession of shepherds and shepherdesses through the lanes to
-where a pastoral play was produced and syllabub drunk under the trees.
-But this was only an _hors d'ouvre_; it was not Colonel Burgoyne's
-masterpiece. This was not produced in the open air. Only when further
-refreshments had been served and evening was closing in did the guests,
-who had been sauntering through the sylvan scenes, repair to the great
-hall, which they found superbly decorated and, in fact, remodelled, for
-colonnades after the type of those in the pictures of Claude had been
-built around the great ballroom, the shafts being festooned with roses,
-and the drapery of crimson satin with heavy gold fringes. There were
-not enough windows to make excuses for so much drapery, but this was no
-insuperable obstacle to the artful designers; they so disposed of the
-material as to make it appear that it was the legitimate hanging for six
-windows.
-
-For the procession through the colonnades the young host changed his
-costume and his fiancée changed hers. He had appeared as Rubens and she
-as Rubens' wife, from the well-known picture. But now she was dressed as
-Iphigenia. They led the first minuet before supper, and it was thought
-that they looked very fine. No one who has seen the two pictures of the
-scene, for which Zucchi was commissioned, can question this judgment.
-Lady Betty's portrait in one of these panels makes her even more
-beautiful than she appears on Sir Joshua's canvas.
-
-With a display of fireworks of a detonating and discomposing type--the
-explosion, it was said, affected the nerves of nearly all the
-guests--and the illumination of the “transparency” already alluded to,
-this memorable fête came to no premature conclusion. Every one was bored
-to death by so much festivity coming all at once. The idea of twelve
-hours of masques and minuets is enough to make one's blood run cold. Its
-realisation may have had this effect upon the heroine of the day, hence
-the rumour that she found she had had enough of the Derby family to
-last her for the rest of her life without marrying the young heir.
-Unfortunately, however, if this was the case, she failed to justify the
-accuracy of the report; and she was married to Lord Stanley on the 23rd
-of the same month.
-
-The union of Maria Gunning with the Earl of Coventry was a miserable
-one, but this of her niece and Lord Stanley was infinitely worse. Lady
-Betty soon found out that she had made a mistake in marrying a man so
-incapable of appreciating her charm of manner as was Lord Stanley. The
-likelihood is that if she had married any other man she would have made
-the same discovery. The vivacity for which her mother apologised to Sir
-William Hamilton was, after her marriage, much more apparent than the
-thoughtfulness which the Duchess assured her correspondent was one of
-her daughter's traits. She showed herself to be appallingly vivacious
-upon more than one occasion. Just at that time there was a vivacious
-“set” in Lady Betty's world, and every member of it seemed striving for
-leadership. Few of the ladies knew exactly where the border line lay
-between vivacity and indiscretion. If Lady Betty was one of the better
-informed on this delicate question of delimitation, all that can be said
-is that she overstepped the line upon several occasions. It is not to be
-thought that her lightness ever bordered into actual vice, but it rarely
-fell short of being indiscreet.
-
-She was always being talked about--always having curious escapades, none
-of them quite compromising, but all calculated to make the judicious
-grieve. But it is one thing to be subjected to the censure of the
-judicious and quite another to come before a judicial authority, and it
-is pretty certain that if Lady Derby--her husband succeeded to the title
-two years after his marriage--had incriminated herself, she would have
-been forced to defend a divorce suit.
-
-It is, however, likewise certain that for some time she kept hovering
-like a butterfly about the portals of the Court, and a good deal of the
-bloom was blown off her wings by the breath of rumour. She had accepted
-the devotion of the Duke of Dorset, and, considering the number of
-eyes that were upon her and the devotion of His Grace, this was a very
-dangerous thing to do. They were constantly seen together and at all
-hours. This was in the second year of her marriage, but even in
-the first her desire to achieve notoriety by some means made itself
-apparent. But her escapade that was most talked about was really not
-worthy of the gossip of a Gower. She was at a ball at the house of Mrs.
-Onslow in St. James's Square, and her chair not arriving in good time to
-take her back to Grosvenor Square, it was suggested by Lord Lindsay and
-Mr. Storer that they should borrow Mrs. Onslow's chair and carry her
-between them to her home. She agreed to this gallant proposal, and off
-they set together. The young men bore her to her very door in spite of
-the fact that they had met her own chair soon after they had left Mrs.
-Onslow's porch.
-
-There was surely not much of an escapade in this transaction. The truth
-was probably that the chair did not arrive owing to the condition of the
-bearers, and when the young gentlemen met it they refused to jeopardise
-the safety of the lady by transferring her from Mrs. Onslow's chair to
-her own.
-
-Rumour, however, was only too anxious to put the worst construction upon
-every act of the merry Countess, and it was doubtless because of this,
-and of her own knowledge of her daughter's thoughtlessness, that
-the Duchess of Argyll appeared upon the scene and endeavoured by her
-presence and advice to avert the catastrophe that seemed imminent.
-The Duchess insisted on accompanying her to every entertainment, and
-succeeded in keeping a watchful eye on her, though the Duke, who was
-at Inveraray, and was doubtless tired of hearing of the vivacity of
-his stepdaughter, wrote rather peremptorily for Her Grace to return
-to Scotland. She did not obey the summons, the fact being that she was
-devoted to this daughter of hers, who must have daily reminded her of
-her own sister Maria, to whom she had been so deeply attached. *
-
- * It was said that she had refused the offer of the Duke of
- Bridgewater, because of his suggestion that she should break
- off all intercourse with Lady Coventry.
-
-Seeing, however, that she could not continue to look after this lively
-young matron, and being well aware of the fact that Lord Derby would
-never consent to live with her again, the Duchess could do no more than
-condone the separation which was inevitable. The deed was drawn up in
-1779, five years after Lady Betty had been so inauspiciously bored by
-the _fête champêtre_.
-
-[Illustration: 0171]
-
-In the meantime there was a good deal of talk about the Earl of Derby
-himself. A young nobleman who takes a lively, or even a grave, interest
-in the personnel of the theatre is occasionally made the subject of
-vulgar gossip. Lord Derby had a reputation as an amateur actor, and
-he seemed to think that it would be increased by association with
-professional actresses. It is doubtful if he was justified in his views
-on this delicate question. At any rate, rightly or wrongly, on his
-estrangement from his wife, but two years before the final separation,
-he showed a greater devotion than ever to dramatic performances and
-dramatic performers. His uncle by marriage, now General Burgoyne, had
-written a play that turned out an extraordinary success. This was _The
-Heiress_, and it had received extravagant praise in many influential
-quarters. It was while it was still being talked of in society that a
-company of distinguished amateurs undertook to produce it at Richmond
-House, in Whitehall Place. In order that the representation might be as
-perfect as possible, the Duchess of Richmond engaged the actress who
-had taken the chief part in the original production, to superintend
-the rehearsals of her amateurs. Miss Farren was a young person
-of considerable beauty, and more even than an actress's share of
-discretion. She was in George Colman's company at the Haymarket, and
-was rapidly taking the place of Mrs. Abington in the affections of
-playgoers. She was the daughter of a surgeon in a small way--he may have
-been one of the barber surgeons of the eighteenth century. Marrying an
-actress (also in a small way), he adopted the stage as a profession, and
-became a strolling actor-manager, whenever he got the chance, and died
-before his drinking habits had quite demoralised his family.
-
-Mrs. Farren was a wise woman--wise enough to know that she was a bad
-actress, but that there were possibilities in her two daughters. It was
-after only a brief season of probation that Colman engaged one of
-the girls to do small parts, promoting her in an emergency to be a
-“principal.” Miss Farren proved herself capable of making the most of
-her opportunity, and the result was that within a year she was taking
-Mrs. Abington's parts in the best comedies.
-
-Her mother was sensible enough to perceive that there was room in the
-best society for an actress of ability as well as respectability--up to
-that time the two qualities had seldom been found associated--and Mrs.
-Farren was right. No whisper had ever been heard against the young lady,
-and a judicious introduction or two brought her into many drawing-rooms
-of those leaders of society who were also respectable, and this was of
-advantage to her not only socially, but professionally. Horace Walpole
-was able to write of her: “In distinction of manner and refinement she
-excelled Mrs. Abington, who could never go beyond Lady Teazle, which is
-a second-rate character.” Again, in a letter to Lady Ossory, he ascribed
-the ability of Miss Farren to the fact that she was accustomed to mingle
-with the best society.
-
-This theory of Walpole's has been frequently controverted since his day,
-and now no one will venture to assert that there is really anything in
-it, although it sounds plausible enough. Miss Farren had, however, ample
-opportunity of studying “the real thing” and of profiting by her study.
-She found herself on the most intimate footing with duchesses--not of
-the baser sort like her of Ancaster, or of the eccentric sort like her
-of Bedford, but of the most exalted. The Duchess of Richmond and the
-Duchess of Leinster were among her friends, and thus it was that her
-appearance at the rehearsals of _The Heiress_ of Whitehall Place was
-not wholly professional. Upon this occasion she met Lord Derby and also
-Charles James Fox, the latter having accepted the rather onerous duties
-of stage manager. Before any of the performers were letter perfect in
-their dialogue, Miss Farren had captured the hearts of both these
-men. Having some of the qualities necessary to success as a statesman,
-including caution and an instinct as to the right moment to retire from
-a contest that must end in some one being made a fool of, Mr. Fox soon
-withdrew from a position of rivalry with Lord Derby. It was rumoured by
-the malicious, who had at heart the maintenance of the good name of
-Miss Farren, that Mr. Fox had been dismissed by the lady with great
-indignation on his making a proposition to her that did not quite
-meet her views in regard to the ceremony of marriage. Miss Farren they
-asserted to be a paragon of virtue, and so she undoubtedly was. Her
-virtue was of the most ostentatious type. She would never admit a
-gentleman to an audience unless some witness of her virtue was present.
-She accepted the devotion of Lord Derby, but gave him to understand
-quite plainly that so long as his wife was alive she could only agree to
-be his _fiancée_. Truly a very dragon of virtue was Miss Farren!
-
-The Earl, previous to his meeting the actress, had been a dutiful if not
-a very devoted husband. But as soon as he fell in love with this paragon
-of virtue he became careless, and made no attempt to restrain his wife
-in her thoughtless behaviour. He allowed her to go her own way, and he
-went his way. His way led him almost every evening to the green room
-at the Haymarket and Drury Lane, where Miss Farren was to be found. The
-estrangement between himself and his wife that resulted in the final
-separation was the result not of his infatuation for the actress, but of
-her virtuous acceptance of him as her moral lover. She took care never
-to compromise herself with him or any one else, but she did not mind
-taking the man away from his wife and home in order that she might be
-accredited with occupying an absolutely unique position in the annals of
-the English stage.
-
-If Miss Farren had been a little less virtuous and a little more human
-she would run a better chance of obtaining the sympathy of such people
-as are capable of differentiating between a woman's virtue and the
-virtues of womankind. She seemed to think that the sole duty of a woman
-is to be discreet in regard to herself--to give no one a chance of
-pointings finger of scorn at her; and it really seemed as if this was
-also the creed of the noble people with whom she associated. Every
-one seemed to be so paralysed by her propriety as to be incapable of
-perceiving how contemptible a part she was playing. An honest woman,
-with the instincts of goodness and with some sense of her duty, would,
-the moment a married man offers her his devotion, send him pretty
-quickly about his business. The most elementary sense of duty must
-suggest the adoption of such a course of treatment in regard to
-an illicit admirer. But Miss Farren had no such sense. She met the
-philandering of her lover with smiles and a virtuous handshake. She
-accepted his offer of an adoring friendship for the present with a
-reversion of the position of Countess of Derby on the death of the
-existing holder of the title and its appurtenances; and people held her
-up, and continue to hold her up, as an example of all that is virtuous
-and amiable in life!
-
-She was also commended for her patience, as Lord Derby was for his
-constancy. They had both great need of these qualities, for the unhappy
-barrier to their union showed no signs of getting out of their way,
-either by death or divorce. She became strangely discreet, taking, in
-fact, a leaf out of Miss Farren's book of deportment, and never giving
-her husband a chance of freeing himself from the tie that bound him
-nominally to her. It must have been very gratifying to the actress to
-perceive how effective was the example she set to the Countess in regard
-to the adherence to the path of rectitude.
-
-What was the exact impression produced upon Lord Derby by all this
-decorum it would be difficult to say. He may have been pleased to
-discover that he was married to a lady to whom his honour was more
-precious than he had any reason or any right to believe it to be. But
-assuredly a less placid gentleman would have found himself wishing now
-and again that--well, that matters had arranged themselves differently.
-
-The years went by without bringing about a more satisfactory _modus
-vivendi_ than was in existence when Lord Derby originally offered his
-heart and hand (the latter when it should become vacant) to the actress.
-Lady Derby was in wretched health, but still showed no more inclination
-to die than does a chronic invalid. Miss Farren continued to drive her
-splendid chariot, with its coachmen on the hammer-cloth and its footmen
-clinging on to the straps behind, down to the stage-door of the theatre,
-and to fill the house every night that she played. Her popularity seemed
-to grow with years, and she appeared in a wide range of characters,
-making her audiences accept as correct her reading of every part, though
-the best critics--Walpole was about the worst--of her art had a good
-deal to say that was not quite favourable to her style. Only once,
-however, did she make a flagrant error on the stage, and this was when
-she was misguided enough to put on men's garments in representing the
-part of Tracy Lovell in Colman's play, _The Suicide_.
-
-By this unhappy exhibition which she made of herself she disillusioned
-those of her admirers who fancied that she was a model of grace from
-the sole of her feet to the crown of her head. She never repeated this
-performance. Had she done so in Lord Derby's presence, his constancy
-would have been put to a severer test than any to which he had been
-previously subjected. The best judges of what constitutes grace in a
-woman were unanimous in their advice to the lady never to forsake the
-friendly habiliments which she was accustomed to wear, and never to
-allow her emulation of the perpetually chaste goddess to lead her to
-adopt even for an hour the convenient garb in which she went a-hunting.
-
-And while his fiancée was moving from triumph to triumph, putting every
-other actress in the shade, the Earl of Derby was putting on flesh. But
-as his flesh became more visible so did his faith. He was a model of
-fidelity. His name was never associated with the name of any other
-lady--not even that of his wife--during his long years of probation, and
-twenty years form a rather protracted period for a man to wait in order
-to marry an actress. It was not to be wondered if the spectacle of the
-devoted young peer waiting for the beautiful girl in the green room,
-which was allowed to the habitués of that fascinating apartment during
-the earlier years of this strange attachment, produced quite a different
-effect upon people from that which was the result of witnessing a
-somewhat obese, elderly gentleman panting along by the side of a chaste
-lady of forty. Nor was it remarkable that, on seeing one day by the side
-of Miss Farren, a gallant young man whose walk and bearing suggested
-to elderly spectators a rejuvenated Lord Stanley, they should rub their
-eyes and ask what miracle was this that time and true love had wrought.
-
-The only miracle that time had wrought was to make the son of the Earl
-of Derby twenty-one years of age and rather interested in the personnel
-of green rooms. He had been introduced to Miss Farren by his father; but
-to his honour be it said, he made no attempt to take his father's
-place in regard to the lady, except as her escort to her house in Green
-Street. The gossip that suggested such a possibility was just what one
-might expect to find in one of Walpole's letters.
-
-At last the shameful, if virtuous, devotion of twenty years was
-rewarded by the announcement of the death of the wretched Countess whose
-desertion dated from the day her husband met the actress. Miss Farren,
-with that extraordinary bad taste which characterised every period
-of her intimacy with Lord Derby, took an ostentatious farewell of the
-stage, and proved by the faltering of her voice, her emotion, and her
-final outburst in tears, that time had not diminished from the arts of
-her art. Of course, there was a scene of intense emotion in the theatre,
-which was increased when King led her forward and Wroughton spoke a
-rhymed and stagey farewell in her presence. Four of its lines were
-these:
-
- But ah! this night adieu the joyous mien,
-
- When Mirth's lov'd fav'rite quits the mimic scene,
-
- Startled Thalia would th'assent refuse,
-
- But Truth and Virtue sued and won the Muse.
-
-Truth and Virtue--these were the patrons of the compact by which Miss
-Farren waited for twenty years for the death of the wife of the man whom
-she had promised to marry--when she could.
-
-The scene in the green room when the actress came off the stage was
-an unqualified success. Tears flowed freely, making channels as they
-meandered down the paint; sobs came from the actresses who hoped to get
-a chance of doing some of her parts now that she had left the stage;
-and Miss Farren herself showed that she knew what were the elements of a
-proper climax, by fainting with a shriek, in the midst of which she made
-an exit supported by all the actors who were not already supporting some
-of the hysterical ladies in the background. They all deserved to have
-their salaries raised. The whole scene was a triumph--of art.
-
-The exact chronology of the crisis is worth noting. Lady Derby died on
-March 4th, and was buried on April 2nd. On April 8th Miss Farren took
-her farewell of the stage, and on May 1st she was married to the Earl
-of Derby. A satisfactory explanation of the indecent delay in the
-celebration of the marriage was forthcoming: his lordship had been
-suffering from an attack of gout.
-
-But if no one ventured to cast an aspersion upon his character or to
-accuse him of shilly-shallying in regard to the postponement of his
-nuptials until his wife had been nearly a whole month in her grave,
-there was a good deal of funny gossip set loose when, after a honeymoon
-of two days, the Earl and the Countess returned to London. This also was
-satisfactorily explained: the Countess was devoted to her mother!
-
-The marriage proved a very happy one, and thirty-two years passed before
-the Countess died. Her husband survived her by five years. He died in
-1834, fifty-seven years after his first meeting with the actress, and
-forty-seven since he instituted “The Derby” race meeting, winning the
-first cup by his horse Sir Peter Teazle.
-
-
-
-
-THE PLOT OF A LADY NOVELIST
-
-IN the year 1790-1 there was played in real life a singularly poor
-adaptation of an unwritten novel by one of the Minifie sisters--those
-sentimental ladies who, during the last quarter of the eighteenth
-century, provided the circulating libraries with several volumes of
-high-flown fiction. The adaptation of this unwritten novel possessed a
-good many of the most prominent features of the original, so that when
-it was brought to light there could be very little doubt as to the brain
-out of which it had been evolved. The result of the performance was so
-unsatisfactory as to compel one to believe that the worst possible way
-of producing a novel is to adapt it to suit the requirements of one's
-relations, forcing them to play in real life and in all earnest the
-parts assigned to them by the inventor of the plot.
-
-Miss Minifie, the second of the sentimental sisters, had married in the
-year 1769 Colonel John Gunning, the brother of the two beautiful girls
-one of whom became Duchess of Hamilton, and later Duchess of Argyll, and
-the other Countess of Coventry. The result of the union was a daughter
-of considerable plainness, and people said that in this respect she
-resembled her mother's rather than her father's family. It seems that
-while the Gunning tradition was beauty, the Minifie tradition was a
-nose, and it soon became apparent that it was impossible to combine the
-two with any satisfactory artistic results. The young lady had made an
-honest attempt to do so, but her failure was emphatic. She had eyes that
-suggested in a far-off way the long-lashed orbs of her aunts, but that
-unlucky Minifie nose was so prominent a feature that it caused the
-attention of even the most indulgent critic to be riveted upon it, to
-the exclusion of the rest of her face. The charitably-disposed among her
-friends affirmed that she would be passably good-looking if it were not
-for her nose; the others said that she would be positively plain if it
-were not for her eyes.
-
-Her father was probably that member of his family who had least brains:
-they made a soldier of him, and he married a lady novelist, closing an
-inglorious career by running off with his tailor's wife and having a
-writ issued against him for £5000. He took care to be at Naples, outside
-the jurisdiction of the English court, when it was issued, and he died
-before it could be served on him, which suggests that he may not have
-been so devoid of brains after all.
-
-Her mother (_née_ Minifie) seems to have entertained the idea of making
-the girl work out a “plot” for her when she arrived at the regulation
-age of the sentimental heroine of those days, and this plot she invented
-with all her accustomed absence of skill. Her materials were a “glorious
-child”--this was how she described her daughter--with a gifted mother;
-a young cousin, heir to a dukedom and a large estate; and, lastly,
-the Gunning tradition. Could any novelist ask for more? A short time
-afterwards she did, however, and this was just where her art failed her.
-She did much to discourage the writers of fiction from endeavouring to
-work out their plots in real life.
-
-Catherine Gunning, the “glorious child,” being the niece of the Duchess
-of Argyll, her cousin was, of course, the Marquis of Lome; and as the
-Duchess had always kept up an intimate connection with the members of
-her father's family, even to the second generation, her son, Lord Lome,
-and Catherine Gunning had been a good deal together, not only when
-they were children, but also when they had reached the age when the
-novel-writer's hero and heroine begin to blossom. The girl's mother,
-doubtless having an idea that these very live young people were
-as plastic as the creatures of her fancy, thought to hasten on the
-_dénouement_ of her story by whispering it to her friends. She whispered
-into more than one ear that Lord Lome and her daughter were betrothed,
-and such friends as received this information, strictly _sub rosa_, took
-care to spread it abroad--strictly _sub rosa_ also. Now the aggregation
-of many confidential reports of this sort is what is termed “news,” so
-that in the course of a short time it was common property that Lord Lome
-was to marry his cousin, Catherine Gunning.
-
-Congratulations reached the young lady, which she neither quite accepted
-nor altogether rejected. She seems to have learned from her mother's
-novels that in such matters it is wisest for a young woman to be silent
-but pensive. And on the whole her behaviour was fairly consistent with
-that of the heroine which her mother meant her to be. Indeed, all that
-was needed to enable her to take the place of the heroine of a pleasant
-little love story was the proposal of the hero; and unhappily this
-formality had still to be reckoned with. Lord Lome had so paltry an
-appreciation of what was due to the art of the fiction-writer that
-he declined to play the part of the young hero of the story, and when
-people approached him on the subject he said that he had heard nothing
-about being accepted by Miss Gunning, and that he could not possibly be
-accepted until he had proposed to her. He seems to have acted with the
-discretion one would have looked for from the son of the Duchess of
-Argyll, and in the course of the year the reports of the possible
-union dwindled away, and people began to feel that their friends were
-untrustworthy gossips to have circulated a report solely on the evidence
-of a young lady's pensiveness.
-
-This was, however, as it turned out, but the opening chapter in the
-romance which the novelist-mother was working out. Indeed, it scarcely
-bears to be considered as a regular chapter, it was rather the prologue
-to the comedy which was played two years later with the same heroine,
-but for obvious reasons with a different hero. In the prologue there was
-scarcely visible any of the art of the novelist; in the comedy itself,
-however, her hand is constantly apparent, controlling the movements of
-at least one of her puppets; and very jerkily, too, that hand pulled the
-strings. The clumsiness in the construction of the plot prevented any
-one from sympathising with the authoress and stage-manager of the piece
-when its failure became known to the world in general, and to Horace
-Walpole in particular. Walpole could pretend a good deal. He pretended,
-for instance, that he knew at once that the Rowley poems, sent to him by
-Chatterton, were forgeries; and he pretended that he knew nothing of the
-marriage of his niece to the Duke of Gloucester until the public were
-apprised of the fact. He could not, however, even pretend that he
-sympathised with the failure of the Minifie plot. On the contrary, he
-gloats over the disgrace which, he declared, on this account fell
-upon the Gunning family. He hated the whole Gunning family, and he was
-plainly in ecstasies of delight when he believed that ruin had come upon
-them. “The two beautiful sisters were exalted almost as high as they
-could go,” he wrote. “Countessed and double duchessed, and now the
-family have dragged themselves down into the very dirt.”
-
-The “family” had of course done nothing of the sort. One member of the
-family had allowed herself to be made a fool of at the suggestion of her
-very foolish mother; her father had also been indiscreet, but there is
-a wide difference between all this and the family of Gunning “dragging
-themselves into the very dirt.” The result of the tricks of the lady
-novelist to marry her daughter to the heir to a dukedom was only to
-make every one roar with laughter, and no doubt the fatuous ladies felt
-greatly annoyed. But the Marquis of Lome did not seem to take the matter
-greatly to heart, and he was a member of the Gunning family; nor did the
-Duke of Hamilton show himself to be greatly perturbed, though he must
-have been somewhat jealous of the honour of the family to which his
-mother belonged. The position that the Gunning family had taken among
-the greatest families in the land rested upon too solid a foundation
-to be shaken by the foolishness of a lady novelist, who had married a
-Gunning. And now people who read the story of the “dragging in the dirt”
- only shrug their shoulders at the ridiculous figure cut by the actors
-in the shallow and sordid comedy, and laugh at the spiteful gibe of the
-prince of gossips, who played a congenial part in damning the product of
-the Minifie brain.
-
-Two years after the failure of the Lome plot startling whispers were
-once again heard in regard to Miss Gunning and the heir to another
-dukedom. This time it was the Marquis of Blandford who attracted
-the Minifie fancy. He was the Duke of Marlborough's heir, and was
-twenty-three years of age. Of course it was Mrs. Gunning (_née_ Minifie)
-who was the first to make the announcement that the young people were
-greatly attached; and then followed--after the interval of a chapter or
-two--the lady novelist's declaration to her niece, a Mrs. Bowen, that
-Lord Blandford had proposed, and had been accepted by Miss Gunning.
-The date of the marriage had been fixed, and the draft deed of the
-settlements signed; but, as in the former “case,” the recipient of
-the news was told that she must regard the communication as strictly
-confidential, the fact being that although the arrangements for the
-match were so fully matured, yet General Gunning--he had recently been
-made a general--had not been let into the secret.
-
-It must have seemed a little queer to Mrs. Bowen to learn that her uncle
-had not been made acquainted with the good luck that was in store
-for his daughter. The signing of marriage deeds in the absence of the
-bride's father must surely have struck her as being a trifle irregular.
-However this may be, she seems to have treated the communication as
-strictly confidential by at once proceeding to spread abroad the news
-that it contained. It reached the ears of several people of distinction
-before long. General Conway heard of it, and from a quarter that seemed
-to him absolutely trustworthy. He passed it round to Walpole and the
-Court circle. The Duke of Argyll, as the uncle of the young lady most
-interested in the match, was apprised of it in due course, and on
-appealing to headquarters--that is to say, to Mrs. Gunning--for
-confirmation or denial of the report, learned that the marriage had
-indeed been “arranged,” but the question of settlements remained in
-abeyance.
-
-Shortly afterwards there came rumours that there were obstacles in the
-way of the marriage, and Miss Gunning, on being questioned by some of
-her friends, confessed that it was the parents of her lover who were
-unkind: young Lord Blandford was burning with anxiety to call her his
-own, but the Duke and Duchess belonged unfortunately to that type of
-parent to be found in so many novels in which the course of true love
-runs anything but smooth.
-
-Strange to say, it was just at this point that a letter appeared in the
-_Advertiser_, signed by General Gunning, apprising the world of the fact
-that the Gunnings were one of the noblest families in existence, the
-writer actually being able to trace his ancestry up to Charlemagne.
-
-It was while people were so laughing over this letter as to cause him
-to declare it to be a forgery, that the General became suspicious of the
-genuineness of his daughter's statements in regard to her _affaire de
-cour_. When a blunt old soldier finds a letter bearing his signature in
-the papers, well knowing that he never wrote such a letter, he is apt to
-question the good faith even of his nearest and dearest. It is certain,
-at any rate, that the descendant of Charlemagne had an uneasy feeling
-that any woman who wrote novels was not to be implicitly trusted in the
-affairs of daily life. His mind running on forged letters, he commanded
-his daughter to submit to him her correspondence with her lover.
-
-Miss Gunning at once complied, and he sat down to read the lot. The
-result was not to allay his suspicions. The letters read remarkably
-well, and contained the conventional outpourings of an ardent lover to
-the object of his affections. But to the simple soldier's mind they read
-just too well: some of them were in the style of a novel-writer with
-whom he was acquainted--imperfectly, it would appear, or he would have
-suspected something long before. Retaining the precious “pacquet” he
-awaited developments.
-
-He had not long to wait. Another contribution to the correspondence
-which he had in his hand came to his daughter, and was passed on to him.
-Noticing in it some doubtful features, he came to the conclusion that
-it was necessary to get to the bottom of the affair in the most
-straightforward way. He leapt to the bottom of it by sending the whole
-“pacquet” to the young Marquis of Blandford, asking him peremptorily if
-he had written the letters.
-
-He got a reply to the effect that a few of the letters were his--they
-were the ordinary ones, courteous, but in no way effusive--but that the
-greater number had not come from him. His lordship did not seem to think
-that common politeness demanded his expressing his hearty concurrence
-with the tone and sentiments contained in these same letters. Now in
-the judgment of a novelist of the intellectual calibre of the Minifie
-sisters this is exactly what a young gentleman would do when playing
-the part of the hero of a romance, so that it would appear that General
-Gunning was fully justified in coming to the conclusion that the whole
-scheme--the whole piece of scheming--was the design of his wife--that it
-represented an attempt on her part to force one of her “plots” upon some
-real personages. Dull-minded man though he certainly was, he must have
-perceived that his wife's plan was to compel Lord Blandford to act the
-part of the hero of her sentimental imagination, and when confronted
-with a parcel of forged letters, in every one of which there was a
-confession of love for Miss Gunning, to bow his head meekly, as any
-gentleman (of her imagination) would, and say, “Those are my letters,
-and they express nothing but the most honourable sentiments of my
-heart.”
-
-But as it so happened the young Lord Blandford was not a young gentleman
-of this particular stamp. He seems to have been almost as practical as
-his great ancestor, who, out of the proceeds of his first love intrigue,
-bought an annuity for himself. Hence the fiasco of the Minifie plot.
-
-The Minifie plot, however, was not worked out in one act only, and an
-insignificant prologue. The resources of the lady's imagination were
-by no means exhausted by the failure of Lord Blandford to act up to the
-heroic part assigned to him. He seems to have talked a good deal to
-his friends about the forged letters, and the Duke of Argyll, the young
-lady's uncle, took the matter up as an important member by marriage
-of the family. He applied to his niece for an explanation of the whole
-affair; and her father seems to have agreed with him in thinking that
-if the girl was ever to hold up her head again it would be necessary
-for her to bring forward some evidence to prove what she still asserted,
-namely, that the letters had been written to her by Lord Blandford--this
-“pacquet” of letters played as important a part in the story of Miss
-Gunning as the “Casquet Letters” did in the history of Queen Mary--and
-that they were written with the concurrence and approbation of the Duke
-and Duchess of Marlborough. The Duke and Duchess had, she affirmed,
-encouraged her by the most unmistakable means to believe that they were
-extremely anxious to see her married to their son.
-
-It was then suggested--Horace Walpole, who gloats over the whole story
-in a letter to one of the Berrys, does not say by whom--that the young
-woman should draw up a narrative of the progress of the attachment
-professed for her by Lord Blandford, and of the particular acts
-of encouragement for which she alleged the Duke and Duchess were
-responsible, leading her to feel sure that she was a _persona grata_
-with them. It was hoped by the Duke of Argyll and General Gunning that
-the girl would be rehabilitated in the eyes of society by the production
-of the Duke of Marlborough's formal assent to the statements made
-by Miss Gunning in endeavouring to exculpate herself. Miss Gunning
-assenting--after a consultation with her mother, we may be sure--a
-“narrative” was accordingly prepared by the young lady, and in it there
-was the ingenuous confession that although she had been unable to resist
-so dazzling an offer as that of Lord Blandford, she had not wavered in
-her affection for her cousin, the Marquis of Lome.
-
-Here we have the true Minifie touch of sentimentality, and we cannot
-doubt that the remaining portion of the plot was due to her clumsy
-ingenuity.
-
-This narrative was sent to the Duke of Marlborough, with the following
-letter from General Gunning:
-
-“St. James's Place,
-
-“_3 rd February_, 1791.
-
-“My Lord,--I have the honour of addressing this letter to your Grace
-not with the smallest wish after what has passed of having a marriage
-established between Lord Blandford and my daughter, or of claiming any
-promise or proposal to that effect, but merely to know whether your
-Grace or the Duchess of Marlborough have it in recollection that
-your Graces or Lord Blandford ever gave my daughter reason to think a
-marriage was once intended.
-
-“My motive for giving this trouble arises merely from a desire of
-removing any imputation from my daughter's character, as if she
-had entertained an idea of such importance without any reasonable
-foundation.
-
-“For my own satisfaction, and that of my particular friends who have
-been induced to believe the reports of the intended marriage, I have
-desired my daughter to draw up an accurate narrative of every material
-circumstance on which that belief was founded.
-
-“This narrative I have the honour of transmitting to your Grace for your
-own perusal, and that of the Duchess of Marlborough and Lord Blandford,
-thinking it highly suitable that you should have an early opportunity
-of examining it--and I beg leave to request that your Grace will, after
-examination, correct or alter such passages as may appear either to your
-Grace, the Duchess of Marlborough, or Lord Blandford, to be erroneously
-stated.
-
-“I have the honour to be,
-
-“With the greatest respect, my Lord,
-
-“Your Grace's most humble and
-
-“Most obedient servant,
-
-“John Gunning.”
-
-This letter was dispatched by a groom to its destination at Blenheim,
-and within half an hour of his delivering it, His Grace, according to
-the groom, had handed him a reply for General Gunning. This document,
-which the groom said he had received from the Duke, was forwarded, with
-a copy of the letter to which it constituted a most satisfactory reply,
-to a small and very select committee that had, it would seem, been
-appointed to investigate and report upon the whole story. It must also
-be quoted in full, in order that its point may be fully appreciated by
-any one interested in this very remarkable story.
-
-“Blenheim.
-
-“Sir,--I take the earliest opportunity to acknowledge the receipt of
-your letter, and to answer it with that explicitness you are so much
-entitled to. From the first of the acquaintance of the D------s of
-Marlborough and myself had with Miss Gunning, we were charmed with
-her, and it was with infinite satisfaction we discovered _Blanford's_
-sentiments similar to our own. It had long been the wish of both to
-see him married to some amiable woman. Your daughter was the one we had
-fixed on, and we had every reason to suppose the object of his tenderest
-affections, and, from the conduct of both himself and his family,
-yourself and Miss Gunning had undoubtedly every right to look on a
-marriage as certain. Indeed when I left town last summer, I regarded her
-as my future daughter, and I must say it is with sorrow I relinquish the
-idea. The actions of young men are not always to be accounted for;
-and it is with regret that I acknowledge my son has been particularly
-unaccountable in his. I beg that you will do me the justice to believe
-that I shall ever think myself your debtor for the manner in which you
-have conducted yourself in this affair, and that I must always take
-an interest in the happiness of Miss Gunning. I beg, if she has not
-conceived a disgust for the whole of my family, she will accept the
-sincerest good wishes of the Duchess and my daughters.
-
-“I have the honour to remain,
-
-“Sir,
-
-“Your much obliged and
-
-“Most obedient, humble servant,
-
-“Marlborough.”
-
-Now be it remembered that both these letters were forwarded to the
-committee with the young lady's narrative, to be considered by them in
-the same connection, at Argyll House, where their sittings were to be
-held.
-
-What was to be said in the face of such documentary evidence as this?
-Those members of the committee who hoped that the girl's statement of
-her case would be in some measure borne out by the Duke of Marlborough
-could never have hoped for so triumphant a confirmation of her story as
-was contained in His Grace's letter. It seemed as if the investigation
-of the committee would be of the simplest character; handing them such
-a letter, accompanying her own ingenuous narrative, it was felt that she
-had completely vindicated her position.
-
-But suddenly one member of the committee--Walpole in the letter to Miss
-Berry affirms that he was this one--ventured to point out that in the
-Duke's letter the name _Blandford_ was spelt without the middle letter
-_d_. “That was possible in the hurry of doing justice,” wrote Walpole.
-But the moment that this pin-puncture of suspicion appeared in the
-fabric of the lady's defence it was not thought any sacrilege to try to
-pick another hole in it. The wax with which the letter was sealed
-was black, and the members of the council asked one another whom the
-Marlborough family were in mourning for, that they should seal their
-letter in this fashion. No information on this point was forthcoming.
-(It is strange if Walpole did not suggest that they were in mourning
-over the defunct reputation of the young lady.) If the Duke of Argyll
-was present, it can well be believed that, after the members of the
-council had looked at each other, there should be silence in that room,
-on one wall of which we may believe there was hanging the splendid
-portrait of Elizabeth, Duchess of Argyll and Baroness Hamilton of
-Hameldon, in her own right, painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds. The lady was
-dying at her Scotch home when this investigation into the conduct of her
-niece was being conducted.
-
-It was probably a relief to every one present when the suggestion was
-made that the Duke of Marlborough's second son was in town, and if
-sent for he might be able to throw some light upon the subject of the
-mourning wax or some other questionable point in the same connection.
-Although it was now close upon midnight a messenger was dispatched for
-the young man--probably his whereabouts at midnight would be known with
-greater certainty than at midday. At any rate he was quickly found,
-and repaired in all haste to Argyll House. He was brought before
-the committee and shown the letter with the black wax. He burst out
-laughing, and declared that the writing bore not the least resemblance
-to that of his father, the Duke of Marlborough.
-
-There was nothing more to be said. The council adjourned _sine die_
-without drawing up any report, so far as can be ascertained.
-
-But the full clumsiness of the Minifie “plot” was revealed the next day,
-for General Gunning received a letter from the Captain Bowen whose name
-has already entered into this narrative, telling him that his wife, the
-General's niece, had a short time before received from Miss Gunning a
-letter purporting to be a copy of one which had come to her from the
-Duke of Marlborough, and begging her to get her husband to make a fair
-copy of it, and return it by the groom. Captain Bowen added that he
-had complied with his wife's request to this effect, but he had written
-“_copy_” at the top and “_signed M_.” at the bottom, as is usual in
-engrossing copies of documents, to prevent the possibility of a charge
-of forgery being brought against the copyist.
-
-The letter which the girl wrote to Mrs. Bowen was made the subject of
-an affidavit shortly afterwards, and so became public property. It is
-so badly composed that one cannot but believe it was dictated by her
-mother, though the marvellous spelling must have been Miss Gunning's
-own. The fact that, after making up a story of her love for Lord Lome,
-and of the encouragement she received from the Marlborough family in
-respect of Lord Blandford, she instructed Mrs. Bowen to keep the matter
-secret from her mother, confirms one's impression as to the part the
-lady must have played in the transaction. Miss Gunning wrote: “Neither
-papa or I have courage to tell mama, for she detests the person dearest
-to me on earth.”
-
-But however deficient in courage her papa was in the matter of
-acquainting his wife with so ordinary an incident as was referred to in
-this letter, he did not shrink from what he believed to be his duty when
-it was made plain to him that his daughter and his wife had been working
-out a “plot” in real life that necessitated the forging of a letter.
-He promptly bundled both wife and daughter out of his house, doubtless
-feeling that although the other personages in the romance which his wife
-was hoping to weave, had by no means acted up to the parts she had meant
-them to play, there was no reason why he should follow their example.
-It must be acknowledged that as a type of the bluff old soldier, simple
-enough to be deceived by the inartistic machinations of a foolish wife,
-but inexorable when finding his credulity imposed upon, he played
-his part extremely well. At the same time such people as called him a
-ridiculous old fool for adopting so harsh a measure toward his erring
-child, whose tricks he had long winked at, were perhaps not to be
-greatly blamed.
-
-The old Duchess of Bedford at once received the outcasts and provided
-them with a home; and then Mrs. Gunning had leisure to concoct a
-manifesto in form of an open letter to the Duke of Argyll, in which,
-after exhorting His Grace to devote the remainder of his life to
-unravelling the mystery which she affirmed (though no one else could
-have done so) enshrouded the whole affair of the letter, she went on
-to denounce the simple-hearted General for his meanness--and worse--in
-matters domestic. He had never been a true husband to her, she declared,
-and he was even more unnatural as a father. As for Captain Bowen and his
-wife, the writer of the manifesto showed herself to be upon the brink
-of delirium when she endeavoured to find words severe enough to describe
-their treachery. They were inhuman in their persecution of her “glorious
-child,” she said, and then she went on to affirm her belief that the
-incriminating letters had been forged by the Bowens, and the rest of the
-story invented by them with the aid of the General to ruin her and her
-“glorious child.”
-
-Captain Bowen thought fit to reply to this amazing production. He did so
-through the prosaic form of a number of affidavits. The most important
-of these was that sworn by one William Pearce, groom to General Gunning.
-In this document he deposed that when he was about to start for Blenheim
-with the “pacquet” for the Duke of Marlborough, Miss Gunning had caught
-him and compelled him to hand over the “pacquet” to her, and that
-she had then given him another letter, sealed with black, bearing
-the Marlborough arms, instructing him to deliver it to her father,
-pretending that he had received it at Blenheim.
-
-In spite of all this Miss Gunning continued to affirm her entire
-innocence, and even went the length--according to Walpole--of swearing
-before a London magistrate that she was innocent. “It is but a burlesque
-part of this wonderful tale,” adds Walpole, “that old crazy Bedford
-exhibits Miss every morning on the Causeway in Hyde Park and declares
-her _protégée_ some time ago refused General Trevelyan.” But “crazy old
-Bedford” went much further in her craziness than this, for she actually
-wrote to the Marquis of Lome trying to patch up a match between Miss
-Gunning and himself. Immediately afterwards the town was startled by the
-report that a duel was impending between Lord Lome and Lord Blandford,
-the former maintaining that it was his duty to uphold the honour of his
-cousin, which had been somewhat shaken by the course adopted by the
-Marlborough heir. Of course no duel took place, and the young men simply
-laughed when their attention was called to the statement in print.
-
-How much further these alarums and excursions (on the Causeway) would
-have proceeded it would be impossible to tell, the fact being that
-Captain Bowen and his wife gave notice of their intention to institute
-proceedings against the Gunnings, mother and daughter, for libel. This
-brought _l'affaire Gunning_ to a legitimate conclusion, for the ladies
-thought it advisable to fly to France.
-
-“The town is very dull without them,” wrote Walpole to one of the
-Berrys, enclosing a copy of a really clever skit in verse, after the
-style of “The House that Jack Built,” ridiculing the whole affair.
-When Mrs. Gunning and her daughter returned, after the lapse of several
-months, the old Duchess of Bedford took them up once more; but the town
-declined to take any further notice of them. It was not until her father
-and mother had been dead for some years that Miss Gunning married Major
-Plunkett, an Irish rebel, who fled after the rising in 1798. She lived
-with him happily enough for twenty years, endeavouring to atone for the
-indiscretion of her girlhood by writing novels. It is doubtful if many
-of her readers considered such expiation wholly adequate, considering
-how foolish she had been. One act of folly can hardly be atoned for
-by another. But her intention was good, and her faults, including her
-novels, have long ago been forgiven her by being forgotten.
-
-
-
-
-TRAGEDY WITH A TWINKLE
-
-IN the summer of 1770 there arrived at the town of Lisle a coach
-containing three ladies and one man, followed by a travelling chaise
-with servants and luggage. Of the ladies, one was approaching middle
-age, handsome and elegant; the other two were her daughters, and both
-were extremely beautiful and graceful girls, under twenty years of age.
-The man was a small, middle-aged person, with a face which one would
-have called plain if it had not been that the protruding of his upper
-lip and the twinkle in his eyes suggested not plainness, but comedy. The
-very soul of comedy was in the gravity of his face; but it was that sort
-which is not apparent to all the world. It was the soul of comedy, not
-the material part; and most people are disposed to deny the possibility
-of comedy's existing except in juxtaposition with the grin through the
-horse-collar. Solemnity in a face, with a twinkle in the eye--that is
-an expression which comedy may wear without arousing the
-curiosity--certainly without exciting the laughter--of the multitude.
-And this was exactly the form that the drama of this man's life assumed;
-only it was tragedy with a twinkle. Tragedy with a twinkle--that was
-Oliver Goldsmith.
-
-[Illustration: 0203]
-
-The vehicles drew up in the courtyard of the hotel in the square, and
-Dr. Goldsmith, after dismounting and helping the ladies to dismount,
-gave orders in French to the landlord in respect of the luggage, and
-made inquiries as to the table d'hôte. Shown to their respective rooms,
-the members of the party did not meet again for some time, and then it
-was in the private _salle_ which they had engaged, looking out upon
-the square. The two girls were seated at a window, and their mother was
-writing letters at a table at one side.
-
-When Dr. Goldsmith entered we may be pretty sure that he had exchanged
-his travelling dress for a more imposing toilet, and we may be equally
-certain that these two girls had something merry to say about the cut or
-the colour of his garments--we have abundant record of their _badinage_
-bearing upon his flamboyant liking for colour, and of his retorts in
-the same spirit. We have seen him strutting to and fro in gay apparel,
-obtrusively calling attention to the beauty of his waistcoat and
-speaking in solemn exaggeration of its importance. The girls were well
-aware of this form of his humour; they appreciated it to the full, and
-responded to it in their merriment.
-
-Then there came the sound of martial music from the square, and the
-elder of the girls, opening the window on its hinges, looked out. A
-regiment of soldiers was turning into the square and would pass the
-hotel, she said. The two girls stood at one window and Goldsmith at
-another while the march past took place. It was not surprising that,
-glancing up and seeing the beautiful pair at the window, the mounted
-officers at the head of the regiment should feel flattered by the
-attention, nor was it unlikely that the others, taking the _pas_ from
-their superiors, should look up and exchange expressions in admiration
-of the beauty of the young ladies. It is recorded that they did so, and
-that, when the soldiers had marched off, the little man at the other
-window walked up and down the room in anger “that more attention had
-been paid to them than to him.”
-
-These are the words of Boswell in concluding his account of the episode,
-which, by the way, he printed with several other stories in illustration
-of the overwhelming vanity and extraordinary envy in Goldsmith's
-nature. As if any human being hearing such a story of the most complete
-curmudgeon would accept the words as spoken seriously! And yet Boswell
-printed it in all solemnity, and hoped that every one who read it would
-believe that Goldsmith, the happy-go-lucky Irishman, was eaten up with
-envy of the admiration given to the two exquisite girls on whom, by the
-way, be conferred immortality; for so long as English literature remains
-the names of the Jessamy Bride and Little Comedy will live. Yes, and
-so long as discriminating people read the story of Goldsmith's envious
-outburst they will not fail to see the true picture of what did actually
-take place in that room in the Lisle hotel--they will see the little man
-stalking up and down, that solemn face of his more solemn than ever, but
-the twinkle in his eyes revealing itself all the more brightly on this
-account, while he shakes his fists at the ladies and affirms that the
-officers were dolts and idiots to waste their time gazing at them when
-they had a chance “of seeing me, madam, me--_me!_” Surely every human
-being with the smallest amount of imagination will see the little man
-thumping his waistcoat, while the Miss Hornecks hold up their hands and
-go into fits of laughter at that whimsical Dr. Goldsmith, whom they had
-chosen to be their companion on that tour of theirs through France with
-their mother.
-
-And surely every one must see them in precisely the same attitude, when
-they read the story in Boswell's _Life of Johnson_, and notice what
-interpretation has been put upon it by the Scotsman--hands uplifted in
-amazement and faces “o'er-running with laughter” at the thought of how
-Mr. Boswell has, for the thousandth time, been made a fool of by
-some one who had picked up the story from themselves and had solemnly
-narrated it to Boswell. But in those days following the publication of
-the first edition of the _Life_, people were going about with uplifted
-hands, wondering if any man since the world began had ever been so
-befooled as Boswell.
-
-When the story appeared in _Johnson's Life_ the two girls had been
-married for several years; but one of them at least had not forgotten
-the incident upon which it was founded; and upon its being repeated in
-Northcote's _Life of Reynolds_, she wrote to the biographer, assuring
-him that in this, as well as in other stories of the same nature, the
-expression on Goldsmith's face when he professed to be overcome by envy
-was such as left no one in doubt that he was jesting. But Croker, in
-spite of this, had the impudence to sneer at the explanation, and to
-attribute it to the good-nature of the lady. Mr. Croker seems to have
-had a special smile of his own for the weaknesses of ladies. This was
-the way he smiled when he was searching up old registries of their birth
-in his endeavour to prove that they had made themselves out to be six
-months younger than they really were. (Quite different, however, must
-his smile have been when he read Macaulay's Essay on Croker's edition
-of Boswell's _Life of Johnson_). But, unhappily for poor Goldsmith,
-Mr. Boswell was able to bring forward much stronger evidence of the
-consuming Vanity, the parent of Envy, with which his “honest Dr.
-Goldsmith” was afflicted. There was once an exhibition of puppets in
-Panton Street, and on some member of the distinguished company in which
-he, curiously enough for such a contemptible lout, constantly found
-himself, admiring the dexterity with which the wooden figure tossed
-a halbert, Goldsmith, we are gravely told, appeared annoyed and said:
-“Pshaw! I could do it as well myself!” Supposing that some one had said
-to Boswell, “After all, sir, perhaps Dr. Goldsmith could have done it as
-well himself,” would the man have tried to explain that the question was
-not whether Goldsmith or the puppet was the more dexterous, but
-whether it was possible to put any other construction upon Goldsmith's
-exclamation than that assumed by Mr. Boswell?
-
-Yet another instance is given of Goldsmith's envy, and this time the
-object of it is not a wooden figure, but Shakespeare himself. He could
-not bear, Dr. Beattie tells us, that so much admiration should be given
-to Shakespeare. Hearing this, we feel that we are on quite a different
-level. There is no jealousy rankling this time in Goldsmith's heart
-against a mere puppet. It is now a frantic passion of chagrin that
-Shakespeare should still receive the admiration of a chosen few!
-
-But such vanity as that so strikingly illustrated by this last told
-story, is, one must confess with feelings of melancholy, not yet wholly
-extinct among literary men. It would scarcely be believed--unless by
-Boswell or Beattie--that even in America a man with some reputation as
-a writer should deliberately ask people to assume that he himself was
-worthy of a place in a group that included not merely Shakespeare, but
-also Milton and Homer. “Gentlemen,” said this egregious person at a
-public dinner, “Gentlemen, think of the great writers who are dead and
-gone. There was Shakespeare, he is dead and gone; and Milton, alas!
-is no longer in the land of the living; Homer has been deceased for a
-considerable time, and I myself, gentlemen, am not feeling very well
-to-night.”
-
-What a pity it is that Beattie has gone the way of so many other great
-writers. If he could only have been laid on to Mark Twain we should have
-the most comic biography ever written.
-
-Goldsmith was, according to the great Boswell and the many lesser
-Boswells of his day, the most contemptible wretch that ever wrote the
-finest poem of the century, the finest comedy of the century, the
-finest romance of the century. He was a silly man, an envious man, an
-empty-headed man, a stuttering fool, an idiot (of the inspired variety),
-an awkward lout, a shallow pedant, and a generally ridiculous person;
-and yet here we find him the chosen companion of two of the most
-beautiful and charming young ladies in England on their tour through
-France, and on terms of such intimacy with them and their brother, an
-officer in the Guards and the son-in-law of a peer, that nicknames are
-exchanged between them. A singular position for an Irish lout to find
-himself in!
-
-Even before he is known to fame, and familiar only with famine, he is
-visited in his garret by Dr. Percy, a member of the great Northumberland
-family at whose town house he lived. So much for the empty-headed fool
-who never opened his mouth except to put his foot in it, as a countryman
-of his said about quite another person. He was a shallow prig, and yet
-when “the Club” was started not one of the original members questioned
-his right to a place among the most fastidious of the community,
-although Garrick--to the shame of Johnson be it spoken--was not admitted
-for nine years. Boswell--to the shame of Johnson be it spoken--was
-allowed to crawl in after an exclusion of ten. According to his numerous
-detractors, this Goldsmith was one of the most objectionable persons
-possible to imagine, and yet we find him the closest friend of the
-greatest painter of the day and the greatest actor of the day. He
-associates with peers on the friendliest terms, and is the idol of their
-daughters. He is accused, on the one hand, of aiming at being accounted
-a Macaroni and being extravagant in his dress, and yet he has such a
-reputation for slovenliness in this respect that it is recorded that
-Dr. Johnson, who certainly never was accused of harbouring unworthy
-aspirations to be accounted a beau, made it a point of putting on his
-best garments--he may even have taken the extreme step of fastening up
-his garters--before visiting Goldsmith, in order, as he explained, that
-the latter might have no excuse for his slovenliness. We are also told
-that Goldsmith made a fool of himself when he got on his feet to make
-a speech, and yet it is known that he travelled through Europe, winning
-the hospitality of more than one university by the display of his skill
-as a disputant. Again, none of his innumerable traits of awkwardness is
-so widely acknowledged as his conversational, and yet the examples which
-survive of his impromptu wit are of the most finished type; and (even
-when the record is made by Boswell), when he set himself out to take
-opposite sides to Johnson, he certainly spoke better sense than his
-antagonist, though he was never so loud. It is worth noting that nearly
-all the hard things which Johnson is reported to have said respecting
-Goldsmith were spoken almost immediately after one of these disputes.
-Further, we are assured that Goldsmith's learning was of the shallowest
-order, and yet when he was appointed Professor of History to the Royal
-Academy we do not hear that any voice was raised in protest.
-
-What is a simple reader to think when brought face to face with such
-contradictory accounts of the man and his attainments? Well, possibly
-the best one can do is to say, as Fanny Burney did, that Goldsmith was
-an extraordinary man.
-
-Of course, so far as his writings are concerned there is no need for one
-to say much. They speak for themselves, and readers can form their own
-opinion on every line and every sentence that has come from his pen.
-There is no misunderstanding the character of _The Traveller_ or _The
-Deserted Village_ or _The Vicar of Wakefield_. These are acknowledged by
-the whole world to be among the most precious legacies of the eighteenth
-century to posterity. Who reads nowadays, except out of curiosity, such
-classics as _Tristram Shandy, Clarissa Harlow, Evelina, or Rasselas?_
-But who has not read, and who does not still read for pleasure, _The
-Vicar of Wakefield?_ Johnson's laborious poem, _The Vanity of Human
-Wishes_, now only exists as an example of the last gasp of the
-didactic in verse; but we cannot converse without quoting--sometimes
-unconsciously--from _The Deserted Village_ When the actor-manager of a
-theatre wishes to show how accomplished a company he has at his disposal
-he produces _She Stoops to Conquer_, and he would do so more frequently
-only he is never quite able to make up his mind whether he himself
-should play the part of old Hardcastle, Tony Lumpkin, Young Marlow,
-or Diggory. But what other eighteenth-century comedy of all produced
-previous to the death of Goldsmith can any manager revive nowadays with
-any hope of success? Colman of the eighteenth century is as dead
-as Congreve of the seventeenth; and what about the masterpieces of
-Cumberland, and Kelly, and Whitehead, and the rest? What about the Rev.
-Mr. Home's _Douglas_, which, according to Dr. Johnson, was equal to
-Shakespeare at his best? They have all gone to the worms, and these
-not even bookworms--their very graves are neglected. But _She Stoops
-to Conquer_ is never revived without success--never without a modern
-audience recognising the fact that its characters are not the puppets
-of the playwright, but the creations of Nature. It is worthy of mention,
-too, that the play which first showed the capacity of an actress
-whose name was ever at the head of the list of actresses of the last
-generation, was founded on _The Vicar of Wakefield._ It was Miss Ellen
-Terry's appearance in _Olivia_ in 1878 that brought about her connection
-with the ever memorable Lyceum management as an associate of the
-greatest actor of our day.
-
-These things speak for themselves, and prove incontestably that
-Goldsmith was head and shoulders above all those writers with whom he
-was on intimate terms. But the mystery of the contradictory accounts
-which we have of the man himself and his ways remains as unsolved as
-ever.
-
-Yes, unless we assume one thing, namely--that the majority of the people
-about him were incapable of understanding him. Is it going too far to
-suggest that, as Daniel Defoe was sent to the pillory because his ironic
-jest in _The Shortest Way with the Dissenters_ was taken in earnest, and
-as good people shuddered at the horrible proposal of Swift that Irish
-babies should be cooked and eaten, so Goldsmith's peculiarities of
-humour were too subtle to be in any degree appreciated by most of the
-people with whom he came in contact in England?
-
-In Ireland there would be no chance of his being misunderstood; for
-there no form that his humour assumed would be regarded as peculiar.
-Irony is a figure of speech so largely employed by the inhabitants in
-some parts that people who have lived there for any length of time have
-heard whole conversations carried on by two or three men without the
-slightest divergence from this tortuous form of expression into the
-straight path of commonplace English. And all this time there was no
-expression but one of complete gravity on the faces of the speakers;
-a stranger had no clue whatsoever to the game of words that was being
-played before him.
-
-Another fully recognised form of humour which prevails in Ireland is
-even more difficult for a stranger to follow; its basis consists in
-mystifying another person, not for the sake of getting a laugh from a
-third who has been let into the secret, but simply for the satisfaction
-of the mystifier himself. The forms that such a scheme of humour
-may assume are various. One of the most common is an affectation of
-extraordinary stupidity. It is usually provoked by the deliverance of a
-platitude by a stranger. The humourist pretends that he never heard such
-a statement before, and asks to have it repeated. When this is done,
-there is usually a pause in which the profoundest thought is suggested;
-then the clouds are seen to clear away, and the perplexity on the man's
-face gives way to intelligence; he has grasped the meaning of the phrase
-at last, and he announces his victory with sparkling eyes, and forthwith
-puts quite a wrong construction upon the simplest words. His chuckling
-is brought to a sudden stop by the amazed protest of the victim against
-the suggested solution of the obvious. Thus, with consummate art, the
-man is led on to explain at length, with ridiculous emphasis, the exact
-meaning of his platitude; but it is all to no purpose. The humourist
-shakes his head; he pretends that the cleverness of the other is
-too much for him to grasp all in a moment; it's a fine thing to have
-learning, to be sure, but these things may be best not meddled with
-by ignorant creatures like himself; and so he goes off murmuring his
-admiration for the fine display of wisdom that comes so easy-like from
-the man whom he has been fooling.
-
-This form of humour is indulged in by some Irishmen simply for the
-satisfaction it gives them to indulge in it. They never hurry off
-to acquaint a neighbour with what they have done, and they are quite
-pleased with the thought that the person on whom they have been imposing
-will tell the whole story of their extraordinary obtuseness to some
-one else; it never strikes them that that some one else may fail to see
-through the trick, and actually be convinced of the existence of their
-obtuseness. But if such a possibility did occur to them, they would be
-all the better pleased: they would feel that they had fooled two instead
-of one.
-
-But, of course, the most widely recognised form of Irish humour is that
-known as the “bull.” This is the delivery of a paradox so obvious as
-to be detected--after a brief consideration--by an Englishman or
-even--after an additional space for thought--by a Scotsman. But where
-the fun comes in is (in the Irishman's eyes) when the others assume
-that the humour of the bull is involuntary; and this is just what the
-Englishman has been doing, and what the Irishman has been encouraging
-him to do, for centuries. The Englishman is so busy trying to make it
-appear that he is cleverer than he really is, he cannot see the humour
-of any man trying to make out that he is more stupid than he really
-is. Let no one fancy for a moment that the humour of an Irish bull is
-involuntary. It is a form of expression that may be due to a peculiar
-twist in the Irishman's mind--indeed, every form of humour may be said
-to be due to a peculiar twist of the mind--but it is as much a figure
-of speech as irony or satire. “Blarney” and “palaver” are other forms
-of speech in which the Irish of some generations ago indulged with great
-freedom, and both are essentially Irish and essentially humorous,
-though occasionally borrowed and clumsily worn on the other side of
-the Channel, just as the bernous of the Moor is worn by an English
-missionary when lecturing in the village schoolroom (with a
-magic-lantern) on The Progress of Christianity in Morocco.
-
-It would be interesting to make a scientific inquiry into the origin and
-the maintenance of all these forms of expression among the Irish; but it
-is unnecessary to do so in this place. It is enough if we remind English
-readers of the existence of such forms even in the present day, when
-there is so little need for their display. It can without difficulty be
-understood by any one, however superficially acquainted with the history
-of Ireland for the past thousand years, that “blarney” and “palaver”
- were as necessary to the existence of the natives of the island as
-suspicion and vigilance were to the existence of the invaders. But it is
-not so apparent why Irishmen should be given to rush into the extremes
-of bragging on the one hand, and self-depreciation on the other.
-Bragging is, however, as much an endowment of Nature for the protection
-of a species or a race as is imitation or mimicry. The Irishman who was
-able by the exercise of this gift to intimidate the invaders, escaped a
-violent death and transmitted his art to his children. The practice of
-the art of self-depreciation was quite as necessary for the existence of
-the Irish race up to the time of the passing of the first Land Act.
-For several generations an Irishman was not allowed to own a horse
-of greater value than five pounds; and every Irish agriculturist who
-improved the miserable cabin which he was supposed to share with his
-pigs and his fowl, might rest certain that his rent would be raised out
-of all proportion to his improvements. In these circumstances it can
-easily be understood that it was accounted a successful joke for a man
-who was doing tolerably well to put on a poor face when in the presence
-of an inquiry agent of the absent landlord--to run down all his own
-efforts and to depreciate generally his holding, and thus to save
-himself from the despicable treatment which was meted out to the
-unfortunate people by the conquerors of their country.
-
-It is not necessary to do more than make these suggestions to a
-scientific investigator who may be disposed to devote some time to the
-question of the origin of certain forms of Irish humour; it is enough
-for us, in considering the mystery of that typical Irishman, Oliver
-Goldsmith, to know that such forms of humour as we have specified have
-an actual existence. Such knowledge is a powerful illuminant to a reader
-of Boswell's and Beattie's stories of the stupidity of Goldsmith. A fine
-flood of light is thrown upon the apparent mystery of the inspiration
-of this idiot--of this man “who wrote like an angel and talked like poor
-poll.”
-
-Goldsmith was just too successful in maintaining that gravity which is
-the very essence of those forms of humour in which he was constantly
-indulging for his own satisfaction; the mask of gravity was such a good
-fit that the short-sighted people who were around him never penetrated
-it. He was making fools of the people about him, never giving a thought
-to the possibility that they would transmit to posterity the impression
-which his attitude conveyed to them, which was that he was a shallow
-fool.
-
-Of course, it would be as absurd to contend that Goldsmith never made a
-fool of himself as it would be to assume that Johnson never made a fool
-of himself, or that Boswell ever failed to do so. The occasions upon
-which he made himself ridiculous must have been numerous, but out of the
-many incidents which Boswell and Beattie and Cooke and the others bring
-forward as proofs of his stupidity there are few that will not bear to
-be interpreted as instances of his practice of a form of humour well
-known in Ireland. If his affectation of chagrin at the admiration given
-to the Panton Street puppets, followed by the boast, “I could do it as
-well myself,” was not humorous, then indeed there is nothing humorous
-under the sun. If his object of setting the room roaring with laughter
-was not achieved the night when at the club he protested that the
-oratory of Burke was nothing--that all oratory, as a matter of fact, was
-only a knack--and forthwith stood upon a chair and began to stutter,
-all that can be said is that the famous club at Gerrard Street was more
-stolid than could be believed. If his strutting about the room where he
-and his friends were awaiting a late-comer to dinner, entreating
-Johnson and the rest to pay particular attention to the cut of his new
-peach-bloom coat, and declaring that Filby, his tailor, had told him
-that when any one asked him who had made the garment he was not to
-forget Filby's address, did not help materially to enliven the tedium
-of that annoying wait, all that can be said is that Thrale, as well as
-Boswell, must have been of the party.
-
-If a novelist, anxious to depict a typical humorous Irishman, were to
-show his hero acting as Boswell says Goldsmith acted, would not every
-reader acknowledge that he was true to the character of a comical
-Irishman? If a playwriter were to put the scene on the stage, would
-any one in the audience fail to see that the Goldsmith of the piece was
-fooling? Every one in the club--Boswell best of all--was aware of the
-fact that Goldsmith had the keenest admiration for Burke, and that
-he would be the last man in the world to decry his powers. As for the
-peach-bloom coat, it had been the butt of much jesting on the part of
-his friends; the elder of the Miss Hornecks had written him a letter of
-pretty “chaff” about it, all of which he took in good part. He may have
-bought the coat originally because he liked the tint of the velvet; but
-assuredly when he found that it could be made the subject of a jest he
-did not hesitate to jest upon it himself. How many times have we not
-seen in Ireland a man behave in exactly the same way under similar
-conditions--a boisterous young huntsman who had put on pink for the
-first time, and was strutting with much pride before an admiring group
-of servants, every one of whom had some enthusiastic remark to make
-about the fit of the coat, until at last the youth, pointing out the
-perfection of the gilt buttons, murmured: “Oh, but isn't this a great
-day for Ireland!”
-
-What a pity it was that Mr. Boswell had not been present at such a
-scene! Can we not hear his comments upon the character of the young man
-who had actually been so carried away by his vanity that he was heard to
-express the opinion that the fortunes of his country would be materially
-affected by the fact of the buttons of his new coat being gilt? (It
-was this same Mr. Boswell, the critic of Goldsmith's all too attractive
-costume, who, when going to see Pitt for the first time, put on Corsican
-native dress, pretending that he did so in order to interest Pitt in
-General Paoli.)
-
-In reading these accounts of Goldsmith's ways and the remarks of his
-associates it must be noticed that some of these gentlemen had now and
-again an uneasy impression that there was more in the poet's stupidity
-than met the eye. Sir Joshua Reynolds was his closest friend, and it was
-the business of the painter to endeavour to get below the surface of
-his sitters. The general idea that prevails in the world is that he
-was rather successful in his attempts to reproduce, not merely their
-features, but their characters as well; and Sir Joshua saw enough
-beneath the rude exterior of the man to cause him to feel toward
-Goldsmith as he felt for none of his other friends. When the news of his
-death was brought to the painter, he laid down his brushes and spent the
-day in seclusion. When it is remembered that he spent every day of the
-week, not even excepting Sunday, in his studio, the depth of his grief
-for the loss of his friend will be understood. Upon more than one
-occasion Reynolds asserted that Goldsmith was diverting himself by
-trying to make himself out to be more stupid than he really was. Malone,
-whose judgment was rarely at fault, whether it was exercised in the
-detection of fraud or in the discovery of genius, was in perfect
-agreement with Reynolds on this point, and was always ready to
-affirm that Boswell was unjust in his remarks upon Goldsmith and the
-conclusions to which he came in respect of his character. It is not
-necessary for one to have an especially vivid imagination to enable one
-to see what was the expression on Malone's face when he came upon the
-patronising passage in the _Life of Johnson_ in which Boswell stated
-that for his part he was always glad to hear “honest Dr. Goldsmith”
- converse. “Puppy!” cried Johnson upon one occasion when a certain
-commentator had patronised a text out of all recognition. What would he
-have said had he heard Goldsmith patronised by Boswell?
-
-So far as Goldsmith's actual vanity is concerned, all that can be said
-at this time is that had it existed in the offensive form which it
-assumes in some of Boswell's stories, Goldsmith would never have won
-the friendship of those men and women who were his friends before he had
-made a reputation for himself by the publication of _The 'Traveller_.
-If he had had an extravagant opinion of his own capacity as a poet,
-he would certainly never have suffered Johnson to make an attempt to
-improve upon one of his poems; but Goldsmith not only allowed him to do
-so, but actually included the lines written by Johnson when he published
-the poem. Had he been eaten up by vanity, he would not have gone
-wandering down the Mall in St. James's Park while his comedy was being
-played for the first time before a delighted house. The really vain man
-was the author of The Vanity of Human Wishes, who bought the showiest
-set of garments he could find and sat in all their glory in the front
-row of the boxes on the night when Garrick produced his tragedy of
-_Irene_--Garrick whom he kept out of the Club for nine years simply
-because the actor had expressed a wish to become one of the original
-members. The really vain man was the one who made his stock story his
-account of his conversation with the King in the Royal Library. Every
-one sees this now, and every one saw it, except Boswell, when the _Life_
-was flung in the face of a convulsed public, for the public of the year
-1791 were as little aware of the real value of the book as the author
-was of the true character of his hero and his hero's friend Goldsmith.
-
-After all, there would be no better way of arriving at a just conclusion
-on the subject of Goldsmith's stupidity than by submitting the whole
-of the case to an ordinary man accustomed to the many peculiarities of
-Irishmen, especially in the exercise of their doubtful gift of humour.
-“Here is a man,” we must say, “who became the most intimate friend of
-people of title and the dearest friend of many men of brains. When the
-most exclusive Club of the day was started his place as a member was not
-disputed, even by the man who invented the word 'clubbable,' and knew
-what it meant into the bargain; when the Royal Academy of Arts was
-started he was invited to become one of its professors. Some of the
-wittiest things recorded by the most diligent recorder of witty things
-that the world has ever known, were uttered by him. Upon one occasion
-when walking among the busts of the poets in Westminster Abbey with a
-friend, the latter pointing around said:
-
-“'_Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis_.'
-
-“Leaving the Abbey and walking down the Strand to Temple Bar they saw
-the heads of the men who had been captured and decapitated for taking
-part in the Rebellion of the year 1745, bleaching in the winds in
-accordance with the terms of the sentence for high treason.
-
-“'_Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis_,' murmured the man of
-whom we speak. Upon another occasion this same friend of his, who had a
-unique reputation for speaking in the most ponderous language, even when
-dealing with the simplest matters, asserted that the writing of the
-dialogue in some recently published fables where fish were represented
-as conversing, was very simple. 'Not so simple at all,' said the other,
-'for were you to write them, you would make every minnow talk like a
-whale.'
-
-“In the course of a few years, in addition to compiling histories, which
-remained standard educational works for more than a century, and several
-other books, he wrote a novel which received the highest praise from the
-greatest intellects in Europe, and which is still read with delight by
-thousands of people of all nationalities; a poem of which almost every
-line is quoted daily in conversation--a poem which contains metaphors
-that have been repeated for generations in the Senate, in the Court of
-Law, and in the Church; and a play which has been pronounced the truest
-comedy in the English language. He died at an early age, and a memorial
-of his genius was given a place in Westminster Abbey. The inscription
-was written by the most distinguished man of letters in England, and
-although highly eulogistic, was considered by the greatest painter in
-the world and the greatest orator in the world to fall short of doing
-justice to the subject.
-
-“But, on the other hand, the man of whom we speak was said by a
-Scotchman, who himself was occasionally referred to as a cur and
-sometimes as an ape, and more than once as a coxcomb, to have been
-roused to a frenzy of envy, because some officers, passing through a
-square in a French town, looked admiringly at two lovely girls who
-were at a window, ignoring him at another window; and again because his
-friends spoke with favour of the dexterity of a wooden figure dressed
-as a soldier, and yet again (on another authority) because one of
-his friends read a passage from Shakespeare, and affirmed that it was
-magnificent. Now, would you say,” we should ask the authority to whom we
-are supposed to be stating a case--“would you say that this man was in
-earnest when, in the first of the instances quoted, he walked up and
-down the room in the French hotel asserting 'that although the young
-ladies, of whom he was extremely fond, might have their admirers, there
-were places where he, too, was given admiration'? Would you say that he
-showed ill-temper or wit when, in the second instance, he declared with
-warmth that he could toss a halbert quite as well as any wooden figure?
-Would you say that----”
-
-But we should not get any further than this in stating our case to a man
-acquainted with the Irish and their humour: he would think that we were
-taking a leaf out of the book of Irish humour, and endeavouring to fool
-him by asking him to pronounce a grave opinion upon the obvious; he
-would not stay to give us a chance of asking him whether he thought that
-the temptation of making “Noll” rhyme with “Poll,” was not too great to
-be resisted by the greatest farceur of his time, in the presence of a
-humorous colleague called Oliver; and whether an impecunious but witty
-Irishman begged his greatest friend not to give him the nickname of
-Goldy, because his dignity was hurt thereby, or simply because it was
-tantalising for one to be called “Goldy,” whose connection with gold was
-usually so transitory.
-
-If people will only read the stories told of poor Goldsmith's vanity,
-and envy, and coxcombry, with a handbook of Irish humour beside them,
-the conclusion to which they will come must, we think, be that Goldsmith
-was an Irishman, and that, on the whole, he made very good fun of
-Boswell, who was a Scotsman, but that in the long run Boswell got very
-much the better of him. Scotsmen usually laugh last.
-
-
-
-
-THE BEST COMEDY OF THE CENTURY
-
-HE occupied one room in the farmhouse--the guest-chamber it had
-probably been called when the farm was young. It was a pretty spacious
-apartment up one pair of stairs and to the right of the landing,
-and from its window there was a pleasing prospect of a paddock with
-wheat-fields beyond; there was a drop in the landscape in the direction
-of Hendon, and here was a little wood. The farmer's name was Selby,
-a married man with a son of sixteen, and younger children, and the
-farmhouse was the nearest building to the sixth milestone on the Edgware
-Road in the year 1771.
-
-He was invariably alluded to as “The Gentleman,” and the name did very
-well for him, situated as he was in the country; in the town and among
-his acquaintances it would serve badly as a means of identification. He
-was never referred to as “The Gentleman” of his circle. In his room in
-the farmhouse there was his bed and table--a large table littered with
-books; it took two chaises to carry his books hither from his rooms in
-the Temple. Here he sat and wrote the greater part of the day, and when
-he was very busy he would scarcely be able to touch the meals which were
-sent up to him from the kitchen. But he was by no means that dignified
-type of the man of letters who would shrink from fellowship with the
-farmer or his family. He would frequently come down his stairs into
-the kitchen and stand with his back to the fire, conversing with the
-housewife, and offering her his sympathy when she had made him aware of
-the fact that the privilege of being the wife of a substantial farmer,
-though undoubtedly fully recognised by the world, carried many troubles
-in its train, not only in connection with the vicissitudes of churning,
-but in regard to the feeding of the calves, which no man could attend
-to properly, and the making of the damson and cowslip wine. He told
-her that the best maker of cowslip wine whom he had ever met was a
-Mrs. Primrose; her husband had at one time occupied the Vicarage of
-Wakefield--he wondered if Mrs. Selby had ever heard of her. Mrs. Selby's
-knowledge did not go so far, but she thought that Mrs. Primrose's recipe
-must be a good one indeed if it brought forth better results than her
-own; and the gentleman said that although he had never tasted Mrs.
-Selby's he would still have no hesitation in backing it for flavour,
-body, headiness, and all other qualities associated with the
-distillation of the cowslip, against the Primrose brand.
-
-And then he would stare at the gammon in the rafter and mutter some
-words, burst into a roar of laughter, and stumble upstairs to his
-writing, leaving the good woman to thank Heaven that she was the wife of
-a substantial farmer and not of an unsubstantial gentleman of letters,
-who could not carry on a simple conversation without having some queer
-thought fly across his brain for all the world like one of the swallows
-on the water at Hendon, only maybe a deal harder to catch. She knew that
-the gentleman had hurried to his paper and ink to complete the capture
-of that fleet-flitting thought which had come to him when he had
-cast his eyes toward the gammon, though how an idea worth putting on
-paper--after a few muttered words and a laugh--could lurk about a common
-piece of hog's-flesh was a mystery to her.
-
-And then upon occasions the gentleman would take a walk abroad; the
-farmer's son had more than once come upon him strolling about the fields
-with his hands in his pockets and his head bent toward the ground, still
-muttering fitfully and occasionally giving a laugh that made the grey
-pad in the paddock look up slowly, still munching the grass. Now and
-again he paid a visit to his friend Mr. Hugh Boyd at the village of
-Kenton, and once he returned late at night from such a visit, without
-his shoes. He had left them in a quagmire, he said, and it was only with
-a struggle that he saved himself from being engulfed as well. That
-was the story of his shoes which young Selby remembered when he was no
-longer young. And there was another story which he remembered, but it
-related to his slippers. The fact was that the gentleman had acquired
-the bad habit of reading in bed, and the table on which his candlestick
-stood being several feet away from his pillow, he saved himself the
-trouble of rising to extinguish it by flinging a slipper at it. In the
-morning the overturned candle was usually found side by side on the
-floor with an unaccountably greasy slipper. This method of discharging
-an important domestic duty differed considerably from Johnson's way of
-compassing the same end. Johnson, being extremely short-sighted, was
-compelled to hold the candle close to the book when reading in bed, so
-that he had no need to use his slipper as an extinguisher. No, but he
-found his pillow very handy for this purpose. When he had finished his
-reading he threw away the book and went asleep with his candle under his
-pillow.
-
-The gentleman at the farm went about a good deal in his slippers, and
-with his shirt loose at the collar--the latter must have been but one
-of his very customary negligences, or Sir Joshua Reynolds would not
-have painted him thus. Doubtless the painter had for long recognised the
-interpretative value of this loosened collar above that of the velvet
-and silk raiment in which the man sometimes appeared before the
-wondering eyes of his friends.
-
-But if the painter had never had an opportunity of studying the
-picturesqueness of his negligence, he had more than one chance of doing
-so within the farmhouse.
-
-Young Selby recollected that upon at least one occasion Sir Joshua, his
-friend Sir William Chambers, and Dr. Johnson had paid a visit to the
-gentleman who lodged at the farm. He remembered that for that reception
-of so distinguished a company the farmhouse parlour had been opened and
-tea provided. There must have been a good deal of pleasant talk between
-the gentleman and his friends at this time, and probably young Selby
-heard an astonishingly loud laugh coming from the enormous visitor with
-the brown coat and the worsted stockings, as the gentleman endeavoured
-to tell his guests something of the strange scenes which he was
-introducing in the comedy he was writing in that room upstairs. It was
-then a comedy without a name, but young Selby heard that it was produced
-the following year in London and that it was called _She Stoops to
-Conquer_.
-
-This was the second year that the gentleman had spent at the farm. The
-previous summer he had been engaged on another work which was certainly
-as comical as the comedy. It was called _Animated Nature_, and it
-comprised some of the most charmingly narrated errors in Natural History
-ever offered to the public, and the public have always been delighted
-to read pages of fiction if it is only called “Natural History.” This is
-one of the best-established facts in the history of the race. After all,
-_Animated Nature_ was true to half its title: every page was animated.
-
-It was while he was so engaged, with one eye on Buffon and another on
-his MS., that he found Farmer Selby very useful to him. Farmer Selby
-knew a great deal about animals--the treatment of horses under various
-conditions, and the way to make pigs pay; he had probably his theories
-respecting the profit to be derived from keeping sheep, and how to
-feed oxen that are kept for the plough. All such knowledge he must have
-placed at the disposal of the author, though the farmer was possibly too
-careless an observer of the simple incidents of the fields to be able to
-verify Buffon's statement, reproduced in Animated Nature, to the effect
-that cows shed their horns every two years; he was probably also
-too deficient in the spirit in which a poet sets about the work of
-compilation to be able to assent to the belief that a great future
-was in store for the zebra when it should become tame and perform the
-ordinary duties of a horse. But if the author was somewhat discouraged
-in his speculations now and again by Farmer Selby, he did not allow his
-fancy as a naturalist to be wholly repressed. He had heard a story of
-an ostrich being ridden horsewise in some regions, and of long journeys
-being accomplished in this way in incredibly short spaces of time, and
-forthwith his imagination enabled him to see the day when this bird
-would become as amenable to discipline as the barn-door fowl, though
-discharging the tasks of a horse, carrying its rider across England with
-the speed of a racer!
-
-It was while he was engaged on this pleasant work of fancy and
-imagination that Mr. Boswell paid him a visit, bringing with him as a
-witness Mr. Mickle, the translator of the Lusiad. “The Gentleman” had
-gone away for the day, Mrs. Selby explained; but she did not know Mr.
-Boswell. She could not prevent him from satisfying his curiosity in
-respect of Dr. Goldsmith. He went upstairs to his room, and he was fully
-satisfied. He found the walls all scrawled over with outline drawings of
-quite a number of animals. Having thus satisfied himself that the author
-of _Animated Nature_ was working in a thoroughly conscientious manner he
-came away. He records the incident himself, but he does not say whether
-or not he was able to recognise any of the animals from their pictures.
-
-But now it was a professed and not an unconscious comedy that occupied
-Dr. Goldsmith. Whatever disappointment he may have felt at the
-indifferent success of the first performance of _The Good-Natured
-Man_--and he undoubtedly felt some--had been amply redeemed by the money
-which accrued to him from the “author's rights” and the sale of the
-play; and he had only awaited a little encouragement from the managers
-to enable him to begin another comedy. But the managers were not
-encouraging, and he was found by his friends one day to be full of
-a scheme for the building of a new theatre for the production of new
-plays, in order that the existing managers might not be able to carry
-on their tyranny any longer. Such a scheme has been revived every decade
-since Goldsmith's time, but never with the least success. Johnson,
-whose sound sense was rarely at fault, laughed at the poet's project for
-bringing down the mighty from their seats, upon which Goldsmith cried:
-“Ay, sir, this matter may be nothing to you who can now shelter yourself
-behind the corner of your pension,” and he doubtless went on to describe
-the condition of the victims of the tyranny of which he complained; but
-it is questionable if his doing so effected more than to turn Johnson's
-laughter into another and a wider channel.
-
-But Goldsmith spoke feelingly. He was certainly one of the ablest
-writers of the day, but no pension was ever offered to him, though on
-every hand bounties were freely bestowed on the most indifferent and
-least deserving of authors--men whose names were forgotten before
-the end of the century, and during the lifetime of the men themselves
-remembered only by the pay clerk to the almoner.
-
-Of course, the scheme for bringing the managers to their senses never
-reached a point of serious consideration; and forthwith Goldsmith began
-to illustrate, for the benefit of posterity, the depths to which the
-stupidity of the manager of a play-house can occasionally fall. The
-public have always had abundant proofs of the managers' stupidity
-afforded them in the form of the plays which they produce; but the
-history of the production of the most brilliant comedy of the eighteenth
-century is practically unique; for it is the history of the stupidity of
-a manager doing his best to bring about the failure of a play which he
-was producing at his own theatre. He had predicted the failure of the
-piece, and it must strike most people that the manager of a theatre who
-produces for a failure will be as successful in compassing his end as
-a jockey who rides for a fall. Colman believed that he was in the
-fortunate position of those prophets who had the realisation of their
-predictions in their own hands. He was mistaken in this particular
-case. Although he was justified on general principles in assuming his
-possession of this power, yet he had made no allowance for the freaks
-of genius. He was frustrated in his amiable designs by this incalculable
-force--this power which he had treated as a _quantité négligeable_. A
-man who has been accustomed all his life to count only on simple ability
-in the people about him, is, on suddenly being brought face to face with
-genius, like an astronomer who makes out his tables of a new object on
-the assumption that it is a fixed star, when all the time it is a comet,
-upsetting by its erratic course all his calculations, and demanding to
-be reckoned with from a standpoint that applies to itself alone.
-
-The stars of Colman's theatrical firmament were such as might safely be
-counted on; but Goldsmith's genius was not of this order. The manager's
-stupidity lay in his blunt refusal to recognise a work of genius when it
-was brought to him by a man of genius.
-
-It has been said that the central idea of the plot of _She Stoops to
-Conquer_ was suggested by an incident that came under Goldsmith's notice
-before he left Ireland. However this may be, it cannot be denied
-that the playing of the practical joke of Tony Lumpkin upon the two
-travellers is “very Irish.” It would take a respectable place in the
-list of practical jokes of the eighteenth century played in Ireland. In
-that island a collector of incidents for a comedy during the past two
-centuries would require to travel with a fat notebook--so would the
-collector of incidents for a tragedy. Goldsmith's task may not have been
-to invent the central idea, but to accomplish the much more difficult
-duty of making that incident seem plausible, surrounding it with
-convincing scenery and working it out by the aid of the only characters
-by which it could be worked out with a semblance of being natural. This
-was a task which genius only could fulfil. The room whose walls bore
-ample testimony to its occupant's sense of the comedy of a writer's
-life, witnessed the supreme achievement in the “animated nature” of
-_She Stoops to Conquer_. It contains the two chief essentials to a true
-comedy--animation and nature.
-
-It is certain that the play was constructed and written by Goldsmith
-without an adviser. He was possibly shrewd enough to know that if
-he were to take counsel with any of his friends--Garrick, Johnson,
-Reynolds, or Colman--he would not be able to write the play which he had
-a mind to write. The artificial comedy had a vogue that year, and though
-it may have been laughed at in private by people of judgment, yet few of
-those within the literary circle of which Johnson was the acknowledged
-centre, would have had the courage to advise a poet writing a piece in
-hopes of making some money, to start upon a plot as farcical as Nature
-herself. At that period of elegance in art everything that was natural
-was pronounced vulgar. Shakespeare himself had to be made artificial
-before he could be played by Garrick. Goldsmith must have known that his
-play would be called vulgar, and that its chances of being accepted and
-produced by either of the managers in London would be doubtful; but, all
-the same, he wrote the piece in accordance with his own personal views,
-and many a time during the next two years he must have felt that he was
-a fool for doing so.
-
-However this may be, the play was finished some time in the summer
-of 1771; and on September 7th the author was back at his rooms in the
-Temple and writing to his friend Bennet Langton, whom he had promised
-to visit at his place in Lincolnshire. “I have been almost wholly in the
-country at a farmer's house, quite alone, trying to write a comedy. It
-is now finished, but when or how it will be acted, or whether it will be
-acted at all, are questions I cannot resolve,” he told Langton.
-
-[Illustration: 0241]
-
-The misgivings which he had at this time were well founded. He
-considered that the fact of his having obtained from Colman a promise to
-read any play that he might write constituted an obligation on his part
-to submit this piece to Colman rather than to Garrick. He accordingly
-placed it in Colman's hands; but it is impossible to say if the work of
-elaborate revision which Goldsmith began in the spring of 1772 was
-due to the comments made by this manager on the first draft or to the
-author's reconsideration of his work as a whole. But the amended version
-was certainly in Colman's hands in the summer of this year (1772).
-The likelihood is that Colman would have refused point-blank to have
-anything to do with the comedy after he had read the first draft had it
-not been that just at this time Goldsmith's reputation was increased
-to a remarkable extent by the publication of his Histories. It would be
-difficult to believe how this could be, but, as usual, we are indebted
-to Mr. Boswell for what information we have on this point. Boswell had
-been for some time out of London, and on returning he expressed his
-amazement at the celebrity which Goldsmith had attained. “Sir,” he cried
-to Johnson, “Goldsmith has acquired more fame than all the officers last
-war who were not generals!”
-
-“Why, sir,” said Johnson, “you will find ten thousand fit to do what
-they did before you find one who does what Goldsmith has done”--a bit of
-dialogue that reminds one of the reply of the avaricious _prima donna_
-when the Emperor refused to accede to her terms on the plea that were
-he to pay her her price she would be receiving more than any of his
-marshals. “Eh bien, mon sire. Let your marshals sing to you.”
-
-At any rate, Colman got the play--and kept it. He would give the author
-no straightforward opinion as to its prospects in his hands. He refused
-to say when he would produce it--nay, he declined to promise that he
-would produce it at all. Goldsmith was thus left in torment for month
-after month, and the effect of the treatment that he received was to
-bring on an illness, and the effect of his illness was to sink him to a
-depth of despondency that even Goldsmith had never before sounded. The
-story told by Cooke of his coming upon the unhappy man in a coffeehouse,
-and of the latter's attempt to give him some of the details of the plot
-of the comedy, speaks for itself. “I shook my head,” wrote Cooke,
-“and said that I was afraid the audience, under their then sentimental
-impressions, would think it too broad and farcical for comedy.” This was
-poor comfort for the author; but after a pause he shook the man by the
-hand, saying piteously: “I am much obliged to you, my dear friend, for
-the candour of your opinion, but it is all I can do; for alas! I find
-that my genius, if ever I had any, has of late totally deserted me.”
-
-This exclamation is the most piteous that ever came from a man of
-genius; and there can be no doubt of the sincerity of its utterance,
-for it was during these miserable months that he began a new novel, but
-found himself unable to get further than a few chapters. And all this
-time, when, in order to recover his health, he should have had no
-worries of a lesser nature, he was being harassed by the trivial
-cares of a poor, generous man's life--those mosquito vexations which,
-accumulating, become more intolerable than a great calamity.
-
-He had once had great hopes of good resulting from Colman's taking up
-the management of Covent Garden, and had written congratulations to him
-within the first week of his entering into possession of the theatre.
-A very different letter he had now to write to the same man. Colman had
-endeavoured to evade the responsibility of giving him a direct answer
-about the play. He clearly meant that the onus of refusing it should lie
-at the door of some one else.
-
-“Dear Sir,” wrote the author in January, 1773, “I entreat you'll release
-me from that state of suspense in which I have been kept for a long
-time. Whatever objections you have made or shall make to my play I will
-endeavour to remove and not argue about them. To bring in any new judges
-either of its merits or faults I can never submit to. Upon a former
-occasion when my other play was before Mr. Garrick he offered to bring
-me before Mr. Whitehead's tribunal, but I refused the proposal with
-indignation. I hope I shall not experience as hard treatment from you
-as from him.... For God's sake take the play and let us make the best
-of it, and let me have the same measure at least which you have given as
-bad plays as mine.”
-
-Upon receiving this letter, Colman at once returned to him the
-manuscript of the play, and on the author's unfolding it he found that
-on the back of almost every page, on the blank space reserved for
-the prompter's hieroglyphs, some sneering criticism was scrawled. To
-emphasise this insult Colman had enclosed a letter to the effect that if
-the author was still unconvinced that the piece would be a failure, he,
-Colman, would produce it.
-
-Immediately on receipt of this contemptible effort at contempt Goldsmith
-packed up the play and sent it to Garrick at Drury Lane. That same
-evening, however, he met Johnson and told him what he had done; and
-Johnson, whose judgment on the practical side of authorship was rarely
-at fault, assured him that he had done wrong and that he must get the
-manuscript back without delay, and submit to Colman's sneers for the
-sake of having the comedy produced. Upon Johnson's promising to
-visit Colman, and to urge upon him the claims of Goldsmith to his
-consideration, the distracted author wrote to Drury Lane:
-
-“Upon more mature deliberation and the advice of a sensible friend,
-I begin to think it indelicate in me to throw upon you the odium of
-confirming Mr. Colman's sentence. I therefore request that you will send
-my play by my servant back; for having been assured of having it acted
-at the other house, though I confess yours in every respect more to my
-wish, yet it would be folly in me to forgo an advantage which lies in
-my power of appealing from Mr. Colman's opinion to the judgment of the
-town.”
-
-Goldsmith got back the play, and Johnson explained to him, as he did
-some years later to Reynolds, that the solicitations which he had made
-to Colman to put it in rehearsal without delay amounted almost to force.
-At any rate, the play was announced and the parts distributed to the
-excellent company which Colman controlled. It was soon proved that he
-controlled some members of this company only too well. The spirit in,
-which he set about the discharge of his duties as a manager was apparent
-to every one during the earliest rehearsals. Johnson, writing to an
-American correspondent, mentioned that Colman made no secret of his
-belief that the play would be a failure. Far from it. He seems to have
-taken the most extraordinary trouble to spread his belief far and wide;
-and when a manager adopts such a course, what chance, one may ask, has
-the play? What chance, the players could not but ask, have the players?
-
-This was possibly the only occasion in the history of the English drama
-on which such questions could be asked. If managers have a fault at
-all--a question which is not yet ripe for discussion--it has never
-been in the direction of depreciating a play which they are about to
-produce--that is, of course, outside the author's immediate circle. It
-is only when the play has failed that they sometimes allow that it was
-a bad one, and incapable of being saved even by the fine acting of the
-company and the sumptuous mounting.
-
-But Colman controlled his company all too well, and after a day or two
-it was announced that the leading lady, the accomplished Mrs. Abington,
-had retired from the part of Miss Hardcastle; that Smith, known as
-Gentleman Smith, had refused to play Young Marlow; and that Woodward,
-the most popular comedian in the company, had thrown up the part of Tony
-Lumpkin.
-
-Here, in one day, it seemed that Colman had achieved his aims, and the
-piece would have to be withdrawn by the author. This was undoubtedly
-the managerial view of the situation which had been precipitated by
-the manager, and it was shared by those of the author's friends who
-understood his character as indifferently as did Colman. They must all
-have been somewhat amazed when the author quietly accepted the situation
-and affirmed that he would rather that his play were damned by bad
-players than merely saved by good acting. One of the company who had the
-sense to perceive the merits of the piece, Shuter, the comedian, who was
-cast for the part of old Hardcastle, advised Goldsmith to give Lewes,
-the harlequin, the part of Young Marlow; Quick, a great favourite with
-the public, was to act Tony Lumpkin; and, after a considerable amount
-of wrangling, Mrs. Bulkley, lately Miss Wilford, who had been the
-Miss Richland of _The Good-Natured Man_, accepted the part which the
-capricious Mrs. Abington resigned.
-
-Another start was made with the rehearsals of the piece, and further
-efforts were made by Colman to bring about the catastrophe which he
-had predicted. He refused to let a single scene be painted for the
-production, or to supply a single new dress; his ground being that the
-money spent in this way would be thrown away, for the audience would
-never allow the piece to proceed beyond the second act.
-
-But happily Dr. Johnson had his reputation as a prophet at stake as well
-as Colman, and he was singularly well equipped by Nature for enforcing
-his views on any subject. He could not see anything of what was going
-on upon the stage; but his laugh at the succession of humorous things
-spoken by the company must have had an inspiring effect upon every
-one, except Colman. Johnson's laugh was the strongest expression of
-appreciation of humour of which the century has a record. It was epic.
-To say that Johnson's laugh at the rehearsals of _She Stoops to Conquer_
-saved the piece would perhaps be going too far. But can any one question
-its value as a counteracting agent to Colman's depressing influence on
-the stage? Johnson was the only man in England who could make Colman
-(and every one else) tremble, and his laugh had the same effect upon
-the building in which it was delivered. It was the Sirocco against a wet
-blanket. When one thinks of the feeling of awe which was inspired by
-the name of Dr. Johnson, not only during the last forty years of
-the eighteenth century, but well into the nineteenth, one begins to
-appreciate the value of his vehement expression of satisfaction upon
-the people on the stage. Goldsmith dedicated his play to Johnson, and
-assuredly the compliment was well earned. Johnson it was who compelled
-Colman to produce the piece, and Johnson it was who encouraged the
-company to do their best for it, in spite of the fact that they were
-all aware that their doing their best for it would be resented by their
-manager.
-
-Reynolds also, another valuable friend to the author, sacrificed several
-of his busiest hours in order to attend the rehearsals. His sister's
-sacrifices to the same end were perhaps not quite so impressive, nor
-were those made by that ingenious “country gentleman,” Mr. Cradock,
-referred to by Walpole. Miss Horneck, his beautiful “Jessamy Bride,”
- and her sister, lately married to Mr. Bunbury, bore testimony to the
-strength of their friendship for the poet, by accompanying him daily to
-the theatre.
-
-But, after all, these good friends had not many opportunities of
-showing their regard for him in the same way; for the play must have had
-singularly few rehearsals. Scarcely a month elapsed between the date of
-Colman's receiving the manuscript on its being returned by Garrick and
-the production of the piece. It is doubtful if more than ten rehearsals
-took place after the parts were recast. If the manager kept the author
-in suspense for eighteen months respecting the fate of his play, he
-endeavoured to make up for his dilatoriness now. It was announced for
-Monday, March 15th, and, according to Northcote, it was only on the
-morning of that day that the vexed question of what the title should be
-was settled. For some time the author and his friends had been talking
-the matter over. “We are all in labour for a name to Goldy's play,”
- wrote Johnson. _The Mistakes of a Night, The Old House a New Inn, and
-The Belle's Stratagem_ were suggested in turn. It was Goldsmith himself
-who gave it the title under which it was produced.
-
-On the afternoon of this day, March 15th, the author was the guest at
-a dinner-party organised in his honour. It is easy to picture this
-particular function. The truth was that Colman's behaviour had broken
-the spirit not only of the author, but of the majority of his friends
-as well. They would all make an effort to cheer up poor Goldsmith; but
-every one knows how cheerless a function is one that is organised with
-such charitable intentions. It is not necessary that one should have
-been in a court of law watching the face of the prisoner in the dock
-when the jury have retired to consider their verdict in order to
-appreciate the feelings of Goldsmith when his friends made their attempt
-to cheer him up. The last straw added on to the cheerlessness of the
-banquet was surely to be found in the accident that every one wore
-black! The King of Sardinia had died a short time before, and the Court
-had ordered mourning to be worn for some weeks for this potentate.
-Johnson was very nearly outraging propriety by appearing in coloured
-raiment, but George Steevens, who called for him to go to the dinner,
-was fortunately in time to prevent such a breach of etiquette. “I would
-not for ten pounds have seemed so retrograde to any general observance,”
- cried Johnson in offering his thanks to his benefactor. Happily the
-proprieties were saved; but what must have been the effect of the
-appearance of these gentlemen in black upon the person whom they meant
-to cheer up!
-
-Reynolds told his pupil, Northcote, what effect these resources of
-gaiety had upon Goldsmith. His mouth became so parched that he could
-neither eat nor drink, nor could he so much as speak in acknowledgment
-of the well-meant act of his friends. When the party after this
-entertainment set out for the theatre they must have suggested, all
-being in black, a more sombre procession than one is accustomed to
-imagine when conjuring up a picture of an eighteenth-century theatre
-party.
-
-And Goldsmith was missing!
-
-Unfortunately Boswell was not present, or we should not be left in doubt
-as to how it happened that no one thought of taking charge of Goldsmith.
-But no one seemed to think of him, and so his disappearance was never
-noticed. His friends arrived at the theatre and found their places,
-Johnson in the front row of the boxes; and the curtain was rung up,
-and Goldsmith was forgotten under the influence of that comedy which
-constitutes his greatest claim to be remembered by theatre-goers of
-to-day.
-
-He was found by an acquaintance a couple of hours later wandering in the
-Mall of St. James's Park, and was only persuaded to go to the theatre by
-its being represented to him that his services might be required should
-it be found necessary to alter something at the last moment.
-
-Now, among the members of that distinguished audience there was a man
-named Cumberland. He was the author of _The West Indian_ and several
-other plays, and he was regarded as one of the leaders of the
-sentimental school, the demise of which was satirised in the prologue to
-this very play which was being performed. Cumberland was a man who could
-never see a particle of good in anything that was written by another. It
-was a standing entertainment with Garrick to “draw him on” by suggesting
-that some one had written a good scene in a play, or was about to
-produce an interesting book. In a moment Cumberland was up, protesting
-against the assumption that the play or the book could be worth
-anything. So wide a reputation had he for decrying every other author
-that when Sheridan produced _The Critic; or, the Tragedy Rehearsed_, his
-portrait was immediately recognised in Sir Fretful Plagiary.
-
-What must have been the feelings of this man when, from the first, the
-play, which he had come to wreck, was received by the whole house with
-uproarious applause? Well, we don't know what he felt like, but we know
-what he looked like. One of the newspapers described him as “looking
-glum,” and another contained a rhymed epigram describing him as weeping.
-Goldsmith entered the theatre by the stage door at the beginning of the
-fifth act, where Tony Lumpkin and his mother appear close to their
-own house, and the former pretends that the chaise has broken down on
-Crackscull Common. He had no sooner got into the “wings” than he heard
-a hiss. “What's that, sir?” he whispered to Colman, who was beside him.
-“Psha, sir! what signifies a squib when we have been sitting on a barrel
-of gunpowder all night?” was the reply. The story is well known; and
-its accuracy has never been im peached. And the next day it was well
-known that that solitary hiss came from Cumberland, the opinion that
-it was due to the malevolence of Macpherson, whose pretensions to the
-discovery of _Ossian_ were exposed by Johnson, being discredited.
-
-But the effect of Colman's brutality and falsehood into the bargain had
-not a chance of lasting long. The hiss was received with cries of “Turn
-him out!” and, with an addition to the tumultuous applause of all the
-house, Goldsmith must have been made aware in another instant of the
-fact that he had written the best comedy of the day and that Colman had
-lied to him. From the first there had been no question of sitting on a
-barrel of gunpowder. Such applause could never greet the last act of a
-play the first four acts of which had been doubtful. He must have felt
-that at last he had conquered--that he had by one more achievement
-proved to his own satisfaction--and he was hard to satisfy--that those
-friends of his who had attributed genius to him had not been mistaken;
-that those who, like Johnson and Percy and Reynolds, had believed in
-him before he had written the work that made him famous, had not been
-misled.
-
-The next day all London was talking of _She Stoops to Conquer_ and of
-Colman. Horace Walpole, who detested Goldsmith, and who found when
-he went to see the play that it was deplorably vulgar, mentioned in a
-letter which he wrote to Lady Ossory on the morning after the production
-that it had “succeeded prodigiously,” and the newspapers were full of
-epigrams at the expense of the manager. If Colman had had the sense to
-keep to himself his forebodings of the failure of the piece, he would
-not have left himself open to these attacks; but, as has been said, he
-took as much pains to decry the coming production as he usually did to
-“puff” other pieces. It would seem that every one had for several
-days been talking about nothing else save the coming failure of Dr.
-Goldsmith's comedy. Only on this assumption can one now understand the
-poignancy of the “squibs”--some of them partook largely of the character
-of his own barrel of gunpowder--levelled against Colman. He must have
-been quite amazed at the clamour that arose against him; it became too
-much for his delicate skin, and he fled to Bath to get out of the way
-of the scurrilous humourists who were making him a target for their
-pop-guns. But even at Bath he failed to find a refuge. Writing to Mrs.
-Thrale, Johnson said: “Colman is so distressed with abuse that he has
-solicited Goldsmith to take him off the rack of the newspapers.”
-
-It was characteristic of Goldsmith that he should do all that was
-asked of him and that he should make no attempt, either in public or in
-private, to exult in his triumph over the manager. The only reference
-which he made to his sufferings while Colman was keeping him on the rack
-was in a letter which he wrote to his friend Cradock, who had written an
-epilogue for the play, to explain how it was that this epilogue was not
-used at the first representation. After saying simply, “The play has
-met with a success beyond your expectation or mine,” he makes his
-explanation, and concludes thus: “Such is the history of my stage
-adventure, and which I have at last done with. I cannot help saying
-that I am very sick of the stage, and though I believe I shall get
-three tolerable benefits, yet I shall on the whole be a loser, even in
-a pecuniary light; my ease and comfort I certainly lost while it was in
-agitation.”
-
-Goldsmith showed that he bore no grudge against Colman; but the English
-stage should bear him a grudge for his treatment of one of the few
-authors of real genius who have contributed to it for the benefit of
-posterity. If _She Stoops to Conquer_ had been produced when it first
-came into the manager's hands, Goldsmith would certainly not have
-written the words just quoted. What would have been the result of
-his accepting the encouragement of its production it is, of course,
-impossible to tell; but it is not going too far to assume that the
-genius which gave the world _The Good-Natured Man_ and _She Stoops to
-Conquer_ would have been equal to the task of writing a third comedy
-equal in merit to either of these. Yes, posterity owes Colman a grudge.
-
-
-
-
-THE JESSAMY BRIDE
-
-A PERSONAL NOTE
-
-FOR some time after the publication of my novel _The Jessamy Bride_
-my time was fully occupied by replying to correspondents--strangers
-to me--who were good enough to take an interest in Mary Horneck, the
-younger of the two charming sisters with whom Goldsmith associated
-for several years of his life on terms of the warmest affection. The
-majority of these communications were of a very interesting character.
-Only one correspondent told me I should not have allowed Oliver
-Goldsmith to die so young, though two expressed the opinion that I
-should have made Goldsmith marry Mary Horneck; nearly all the remaining
-communications which were addressed to me contained inquiries as to the
-origin of the sobriquet applied to Mary Horneck in Goldsmith's epistle.
-To each and to all such inquiries I have, alas! been compelled to return
-the humiliating reply that I have not yet succeeded in finding out what
-was the origin of the family joke which made Goldsmith's allusions to
-“The Jessamy Bride” and “Little Comedy” intelligible to the “Devonshire
-Crew” of Hornecks and Reynoldses. I have searched volume after volume
-in the hope of having even the smallest ray of light thrown upon this
-matter, but I have met with no success. I began to feel, as every post
-brought me a sympathetic inquiry as to the origin of the pet name,
-that I should take the bold step of confessing my ignorance to the one
-gentleman who, I was confident, could enlighten it. “If Dr. Brewer does
-not know why Mary Horneck was called 'The Jessamy Bride,' no one alive
-can know it,” was what I said to myself. Before I could write to
-Dr. Brewer the melancholy new's came of his death; and very shortly
-afterwards I got a letter from his daughter, Mrs. Brewer Hayman, in
-which she mentioned that her lamented father had been greatly interested
-in my story, and asked if I could tell her what was the meaning of the
-phrase.
-
-It does certainly seem extraordinary that no biographer of Goldsmith,
-of Reynolds, or of Burke, should have thought it worth while writing a
-letter to the “Jessamy Bride” herself to ask her why she was so called
-by Goldsmith. The biographers of Goldsmith and the editors of Boswell
-seem to have had no hesitation in stating that Mary Horneck was the
-“Jessamy Bride,” and that her elder sister was “Little Comedy”; but
-they do not appear to have taken a wider view of their duties than was
-comprised in this bare statement. The gossipy Northcote was surely in
-the secret, and he might have revealed the truth without detracting from
-the interest of the many inaccuracies in his volume. Northcote had
-an opportunity of seeing daily the portrait of Mary which Sir Joshua
-painted, and which hung in his studio until the day of his death, when
-it passed into the possession of the original, who had become Mrs. Gwyn,
-having married Colonel, afterwards General, Gwyn.
-
-But although up to the present I have not obtained even as much evidence
-as would be termed a clue by the sanguine officers of Scotland Yard, as
-to the origin of the sobriquet, I am not without hope that some day one
-of my sympathetic correspondents will be able to clear up the matter for
-me. I am strengthened in this hope by the fact that among those who were
-kind enough to write to me, was a lady who can claim relationship
-to Mary Horneck, and who did not hesitate to send to me a bundle of
-letters, written in the early part of the century by the “Jessamy
-Bride” herself, with permission to copy and print any portion of the
-correspondence that I might consider of interest. Of this privilege I
-gladly avail myself, feeling sure that the interest which undoubtedly
-attaches to many portions of the letters will exculpate me for the
-intrusion of a personal note into these papers.
-
-The grandfather of my correspondent (Mrs. Cor-ballis, of Ratrath, co.
-Meath, Ireland) was first cousin to the Hornecks. He was the Rev. George
-Mangles, chaplain to George III when Mrs. Gwyn (Mary Horneck) was Woman
-of the Bedchamber to the Queen. As General Gwyn was Equerry to the King
-it can easily be understood that the two families should be on terms of
-the most intimate friendship. My correspondent mentions that her mother,
-who only died thirteen years ago, was almost every year a visitor at the
-house of Mrs. Gwyn, at Kew, and said that she retained her beauty up
-to the very last. Confirmation of this statement is to be found in a
-passage in the “Jerningham Letters.” Lady Bedingfeld's Journal contains
-the following entry opposite the date “September 19th, 1833”:
-
-“When the Queen returned to the drawing-room we found several ladies
-there. I observed a very old lady with striking remains of beauty, and
-whose features seemed very familiar to me. I felt to know her features
-by heart, and at last I heard her name, Mrs. Gwyn, the widow of a
-General, and near ninety! I had never seen her before, but when I was a
-girl my uncle the Poet, gave me a portrait of her, copied from Sir Jos.
-Reynolds, small size in a Turkish costume and attitude. This picture is
-still at Cossey, and of course must be very like her since it led me to
-find her out.”
-
-[Illustration: 0261]
-
-The picture referred to must certainly have been “very like” the
-original, for it was painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds in 1772, sixty-one
-years before. The engraving of it cannot but make one feel how exquisite
-must have been the charm of Goldsmith's young friend, who survived him
-by sixty-six years; for Mrs. Gywn did not die until 1840.
-
-Very pathetic indeed it is to look at the sweet girlish face, which
-appears in this portrait and also in that of the two sisters done in
-chalk by the same master-hand, and then to read some of the passages in
-the letters in which the writer refers to her old age and feebleness.
-Happily, with Lady Bedingfeld's diary before us, our imagination is not
-largely drawn on for a picture of the “Jessamy Bride” broken down by age
-and infirmity. The woman who can be easily recognised by a stranger
-at seventy-nine by her likeness to a portrait painted at the age of
-eighteen, would make Ninon de l'Enclos envious.
-
-The letters are written to Mrs. Mangles, the widow of the Chaplain
-to George III, and the majority touch upon private matters with
-sprightliness, and occasionally a delicate humour, such as Goldsmith
-would certainly have appreciated. We seem to hear, while reading these
-passages, faint echoes of the girlish laughter which must have rung
-through that room in the inn at Calais, when Goldsmith paced up and
-down in a mock fury because two officers passing the window looked more
-eagerly at the girls than at him.
-
-It is obvious, however, that the Queen's Woman of the Bedchamber would
-write occasionally to her friend on some topic of public interest;
-consequently we find, in the course of the correspondence, many passages
-which throw a flood of light upon the incidents of the day. In a letter
-dated April 10th, 1818,
-
-Mrs. Gwyn describes with great sprightliness the wedding of the
-Princess Elizabeth, the third daughter of George III, with Prince
-Hesse-Hombourgh, which took place three days before:
-
-“I delayed to write till after the marriage to tell you about it, as
-you seemed to wish it. We were all appointed at seven o'clock in
-the evening, when I went as smart as I could make myself. I wore the
-lavender sattin robe, the same you saw me wear at Court, as the shape
-was the same, and it _saved buying_, trimmed with silver, a new white
-sattin petticoat, with a white net and silver over it, no hoop, but a
-Court head dress, and lappets down. The Company consisting of the great
-officers of state, and ambassadors and their wives, and the different
-households were the Company.
-
-“At 8 all were assembled when the Royal family in procession according
-to their rank, went into the great drawing-room in the Queen's house.
-The Duke of York led the Queen, the Prince Regent not being quite
-recovered of his gout, and it is said the remembrance of his poor
-daughter's marriage was too painful to him to undertake it. Before the
-state canopy was set a fine communion table, red velvet and gold, all
-the gold plate belonging to that service arranged behind it, and 3
-Bishops and other clergymen standing behind the table, it looked very
-magnificent. Then came the _Hero_, the Prince Hesse Hombourgh, he went
-up to the table and stood there, I believe 10 minutes alone, he looked
-well a manly unembarassed figure, then walked in the Bride glittering
-with silver and diamonds, and really looked very handsome, and her
-behaviour and manner was as well as possible, grace and quiet, when she
-knelt she wept, and then he approached nearer her in case her emotion
-would require his care, which happily was not the case. The Duke of York
-gave her away, and behaved very bad. The Prince Hombourgh thought when
-he had said I will very loud and distinct, all was done, but the Arch
-Bishop desired him to repeat after him, which he was therefore obliged
-to do. He cannot speak English and made such works of it, it was then
-the Duke of York laughed so, he was obliged to stuff his handkerchief
-in his mouth to conceal it. He promised to love her. When all was over
-he saluted his bride on each side the face, and then her hand, with a
-good-natured frank manner, then led her to the Queen, whose hand only he
-kissed, the rest of the Royal family he embraced after his own fashion,
-and he led her off with a very good air, and did not seem to trouble his
-head about his _English performance_.” The Princess Elizabeth--the shy
-young bride who was so overcome with emotion--had scarcely more than
-passed her forty-ninth year when she was borne to the altar, and the
-hero of the hour was, we learn from other sources than Mrs. Gwyn's
-letters, most unheroically sick when driving away in a close carriage
-with his bride.
-
-The Prince Regent's daughter, the Princess Charlotte, had died the
-previous year, hence the marrying panic which seized all the other
-members of the Royal Family, lest the dynasty should become extinct. It
-is pleasing to reflect that such gloomy apprehensions have since been
-amply averted.
-
-Regarding the death of the Princess Charlotte Mrs. Gwyn writes:
-
-“... While I was at Oatlands the Prince Leopold came to see the Duchess
-and staid there 3 hours, no one but the Duchess saw him--she told me he
-is more composed in his manners now when seen by people in general but
-with her alone his grief seems the same and he is gratified by being
-allowed to vent it to one who feels for him and knows how to soothe his
-mind. I can not doubt the Princess's life and his child's were thrown
-away, by mismanagement--she was so bled and starved she had no strength
-left--her own fortitude and energy supported her till nature could no
-more. I could tell you much on the subject but it would take up too much
-in a letter and besides _it is over_. Dr. Crofts thought he was doing
-for the best no doubt--It comes to what _I_ always say of them--they
-can't do much and are very often wrong in their opinions as you can
-vouch....”
-
-In another letter Mrs. Gywn's adopted daughter was her amanuensis. It
-contains many paragraphs of interest, especially to present-day readers.
-The girl writes:
-
-“Mamma was of course summoned to attend the Duke of Cambridge's Wedding,
-but she was not in the room when the Ceremony was performed as before,
-on account of the Queen having been ill. Mamma admires the Duchess of
-Cambridge very much: though she is not exactly handsome, she is very
-pleasing, and a pretty figure, but I understand she must have a new
-stay maker to set her up etc. The Duke of Kent and his bride are now
-expected. The Duke of Clarence it is expected will be married shortly
-afterwards. We hear the Duchess of Kent is a little woman with a
-handsome face, and the Duchess of Clarence uncommonly ugly. We went to
-Windsor about a month ago to see Princess Sophia as the Queen was not
-there, and Princess Sophia has a small party every night. We were there
-three days, and Mamma went to the party every evening, and indeed it was
-very very dull for her as they play one pool of Commerce, and then they
-go to a game called Snip, Snap, Snorum, and which Mamma could not play
-at well without a great deal of trouble to herself, therefore she was
-obliged to look on for perhaps an hour and half which you may imagine
-was terrible for her not hearing a word. I was much pleased in one
-respect while I was there by seeing Dear Prince Leopold whom I had
-never seen before, and who must be to every body an object of so much
-interest. He looked to me the picture of grief and melancholy, but those
-who have seen him repeatedly since his misfortune say he improves every
-time they see him. Mrs. C.... went one day to see Claremont and was very
-much pleased. All remains as Princess Charlotte left it, but nobody sees
-her room in which she died but himself, even her combs and brushes are
-untouched, and her hat and cloak are where she laid them the day before
-she died. There are models of her hand and arm one in particular as it
-is his hand clasped in hers. I suppose you have often heard she had a
-very beautiful hand and arm, but I will not go on, on so melancholy a
-subject; yet I am sure it must interest you.”
-
-The Princess Sophia, who instituted the fascinating game referred to in
-this letter, was, of course, the fifth daughter of George III.
-
-In another letter reference is made to a certain scandal, which Mrs.
-Gwyn contradicts most vehemently. Even nowadays this particular bit of
-gossip is remembered by some persons; but at the risk of depriving these
-pages of the piquancy which attaches to a Court scandal, I will not
-quote it, but conclude this Personal Note with what seems to me a most
-pathetic account of the dying king:
-
-“We continue in a state of great anxiety about our dear King, whose
-state is distressing. Certainly no hope of recovery, and the chances of
-his continuance very doubtful. His death may be any day, any hour, or he
-may continue some _little_ time longer, it depends on nature holding
-out against sore disease, which afflicts him universally, and occasions
-great suffering, this is heartbreaking to hear! and his patience and
-courage and sweet and kind behaviour to all about him is most touching,
-so affectionate to his friends and attendants, and thankful for their
-attention and feeling for him. He will hold the hand of the Duchess of
-Gloster or S. H. Halford for an hour at a time out of tenderness, till
-excessive suffering ends it. He wishes to die in peace and charity with
-all the world, and has reconciled himself to the Duke of Sussex. He
-hopes his people have found him a merciful King. He says he never hurt
-anyone, and that, he may truly say as his first wish to _all_ was good
-and benevolent, and ever ready to forgive.”
-
-
-
-
-THE AMAZING ELOPEMENT
-
-ON a certain evening in March, 1772, the fashionable folk of Bath
-were as earnestly on pleasure bent as they were wont to be at this
-season--and every other. The Assembly Rooms were open, a performance was
-going on at the theatre, the Cave of Harmony was as musical as Pyrrha's
-Grotto, a high-class concert was taking place under the conductorship of
-the well-known Mr. Linley, and the Countess of Huntingdon was holding a
-prayer meeting. For people who took their diversions _à la carte_, there
-was a varied and an abundant menu. Chairs containing precious structures
-of feathers, lace, and jewels towering over long faces powdered and
-patched and painted _à la mode_, were swinging along the streets in
-every direction, some with a brace of gold-braided lackeys by each of
-the windows, but others in charge only of the burly chairmen.
-
-Unobtrusive among the latter class of conveyance was one that a young
-gentleman, a tall and handsome lad, called from its rank between
-Pierrepont Street and the South Parade. He gave the bearers instructions
-to hasten to the house of Mr. Linley in the Crescent, and to inquire if
-Miss Linley were ready.
-
-If she were not, he told them that they were to wait for her and carry
-out her directions. The fellows touched their hats and swung off with
-their empty chair.
-
-The young man then went to a livery stable, and putting a few
-confidential inquiries to the proprietor, received a few confidential
-replies, accentuated by a wink or two, and a certain quick uplifting of
-a knuckly forefinger that had an expression of secretiveness of its own.
-
-“Mum's the word, sir, and mum it shall be,” whispered the man. “I stowed
-away the trunk, leaving plenty of room for the genuine luggage--lady's
-luggage, Mr. Sheridan. You know as well as I can tell you, sir, being
-young but with as shrewd knowingness of affairs in general as might be
-looked for in the son of Tom Sheridan, to say nought of a lady like your
-mother, meaning to take no liberty in the world, Mr. Dick, as they call
-you.”
-
-“I'm obliged to you, Denham, and I'll not forget you when this little
-affair is happily over. The turn by the 'Bear' on the London Road, we
-agreed.”
-
-“And there you'll find the chaise, sir, and as good a pair as ever left
-my stable, and good luck to you, sir!” said the man.
-
-Young Mr. Sheridan then hastened to his father's house in King's Mead
-Street, and was met by an anxious sister in the hall.
-
-“Good news, I hope, Dick?” she whispered.
-
-“I have been waiting for you all the evening. She has not changed her
-mind, I hope.”
-
-“She is as steadfast as I am,” said he. “If I could not swear that she
-would be steadfast, I would not undertake this business on her behalf.
-When I think of our father----”
-
-“Don't think of him except as applauding your action,” said the girl.
-“Surely every one with the least spark of generosity will applaud your
-action, Dick.”
-
-“I wouldn't like to say so much,” said Dick, shaking his head. “Mathews
-has his friends. No man could know so much about whist as he does
-without having many friends, even though he be a contemptible scoundrel
-when he is not employed over a rubber.”
-
-“Who will dare to take the part of Mr. Mathews against you, Dick?” cried
-his sister, looking at him proudly as the parlour candles shone upon
-him. “I would that I could go with you as far as London, dear, but that
-would be impossible.”
-
-“Quite impossible; and where would be the merit in the end?” said Dick,
-pacing the room as he believed a man of adventure and enterprise would
-in the circumstances. “You may trust to me to place her in safety
-without the help of any one.”
-
-“I know it, Dick, I know it, dear, and I am proud of you,” said she,
-putting her arms about his neck and kissing him. “And look you here,
-Dick,” she added, in a more practical tone. “Look you here--I find that
-I can spare another five pounds out of the last bill that came from
-Ireland. We shall live modestly in this house until you return to us.”
-
-He took the coins which she offered to him wrapped up in a twist of
-newspaper; but he showed some hesitation--she had to go through a form
-of forcing it upon him.
-
-“I hope to bring it back to you unbroken,” he murmured; “but in affairs
-of this sort it is safest to have a pound or two over, rather than
-under, what is barely needful. That is why I take your coins,--a loan--a
-sacred loan. Good-bye, I returned only to say good-bye to you, my
-dearest sister.”
-
-“I knew your good heart, Dick, that was why I was waiting for you.
-Good-bye, Dick, and God bless you.”
-
-He was putting on his cloak in the hall. He saw that the pistols were
-in its pockets, and then he suffered his sister to give him another kiss
-before he passed into the dark street.
-
-He felt for his pistols, and with a hand on each he felt that he was
-indeed fairly launched upon a great adventure.
-
-He made his way to the London road, and all the time he was wondering if
-the girl would really come to him in the Sedan chair which he had sent
-for her. To be sure she had promised to come upon this evening, but he
-knew enough of the great affairs of this world to be well aware of the
-fact that the sincerest promise of a maid may be rendered worthless
-by the merest freak of Fate. Therefore, he knew that he did well to
-be doubtful respecting the realisation of her promise. She was the
-beautiful Miss Linley--every one in Bath knew her, and this being so,
-was it not likely that some one--some prying person--some impudent
-fellow like that Mathews who had been making love to her, although
-he had a wife of his own in Wales--might catch a glimpse of her face
-through the glass of the chair when passing a lamp or a link, and be
-sufficiently curious to follow her chair to see whither she was going?
-
-That was a likely enough thing to happen, and if it did happen and the
-alarm of his flight with her were given, what chance would he have of
-carrying out his purpose? Why, the chaise would be followed, and even if
-it was not overtaken before London was reached, the resting-place of the
-fugitives would certainly be discovered in London, and they should be
-ignominiously brought back to Bath. Yes, unless Mathews were the
-pursuer, in which case----
-
-Mr. Richard Brinsley Sheridan grasped more firmly the butt of the pistol
-in the right-hand pocket of his cloak. He felt at that moment that
-should Mathews overtake them, the going back to Bath would be on the
-part only of Mathews.
-
-But how would it be if Mr. Linley had become apprised of his daughter's
-intention to fly from Bath? He knew very well that Mr. Linley had
-the best of reasons for objecting to his daughter's leaving Bath. Mr.
-Linley's income was increased by several hundred pounds by reason of the
-payments made to him on account of his daughter's singing in public,
-and he was--very properly, considering his large family--fond of money.
-Before he had to provide for his family, he took good care that his
-family--his eldest daughter particularly--helped to provide for him.
-
-Doubtless these eventualities were suggested to him--for young Mr.
-Sheridan was not without imagination--while on his way through the dark
-outskirts of the beautiful city to the London Road. The Bear Inn was
-just beyond the last of the houses. It stood at the junction of the
-London Road and a narrower one leading past a couple of farms. It was
-here that he had given instructions for the chaise to wait for him, and
-here he meant to wait for the young lady who had promised to accompany
-him to London--and further.
-
-He found the chaise without trouble. It was under the trees not more
-than a hundred yards down the lane, but the chair, with Miss Linley,
-had not yet arrived, so he returned to the road and began to retrace his
-steps, hoping to meet it, yet with some doubts in his mind. Of course,
-he was impatient. Young gentlemen under twenty-one are usually impatient
-when awaiting the arrival of the ladies who have promised to run away
-with them. He was not, however, kept in suspense for an unconscionably
-long time. He met the chair which he was expecting just when he had
-reached the last of the lamps of Bath, and out of it stepped the muffled
-form of Miss Linley. The chairmen were paid with a lavish hand, and Dick
-Sheridan and Betsy Linley walked on to the chaise without exchanging any
-but a friendly greeting--there was nothing lover-like in their meeting
-or their greeting. The elopement was not that of a young woman with her
-lover; it was, we are assured, that of a young woman anxious to escape
-from the intolerable position of being the most popular person in the
-most fashionable city in England, to the peaceful retreat of a convent;
-and the young man who was to take charge of her was one whom she had
-chosen for her guardian, not for her lover. Dick Sheridan seems to have
-been the only young man in Bath who had never made love to Elizabeth
-Linley. His elder brother, Charles by name, had discharged this duty on
-behalf of the Sheridan family, and he was now trying to live down his
-disappointment at being refused, at a farmhouse a mile or two away. The
-burden was greater than he could bear when surrounded by his sisters in
-their father's house in King's Mead Street.
-
-[Illustration: 0277]
-
-Elizabeth Linley was certainly the most popular young woman in Bath; she
-certainly was the most beautiful. The greatest painters of her day made
-masterpieces of her portrait, and for once, posterity acknowledges that
-the fame of her beauty was well founded. So spiritual a face as hers is
-to be seen in no eighteenth-century picture except that of Miss Linley;
-one has need to go back to the early Italian painters to find such
-spirituality in a human face, and then one finds it combined with
-absolute inanity, and the face is called Divine. Reynolds painted her as
-Saint Cecilia drawing down angels, and blessedly unconscious of her own
-powers, thinking only of raising herself among angels on the wings
-of song. His genius was never better employed and surely never more
-apparent than in the achievement of this picture. Gainsborough painted
-her by the side of her younger brother, and one feels that if Reynolds
-painted a saint, Gainsborough painted a girl. It was Bishop O'Beirne,
-an old friend of her family and acquainted with her since her childhood,
-who said: “She is a link between an angel and a woman.”
-
-And this exquisite creature had a voice of so sympathetic a quality that
-no one could hear it unmoved. Her father had made her technique perfect.
-He was a musician who was something more than painstaking. He had taste
-of the highest order, and it is possible to believe that in the training
-of his eldest daughter he was wise enough to limit his instruction to
-the technicalities of his art, leaving her to the inspiration of her own
-genius in regard to the treatment of any theme which he brought before
-her.
-
-At any rate her success in the sublimest of all oratorios was far beyond
-anything that could be achieved by an exhibition of the finest technical
-qualities; and Mr. Linley soon became aware of the fact that he was the
-father of the most beautiful and the most highly gifted creature that
-ever made a father miserable.
-
-Incidentally she made a great many other men miserable, but that was
-only because each of them wanted her to make him happy at the expense
-of the others, and this she was too kind-hearted to do. But the cause of
-her father's grief was something different. It was due to the fact
-that the girl was so sensitive that she shrank from every exhibition of
-herself and her ability on a public platform. It was an agony to her to
-hear the tumultuous applause that greeted her singing at a concert or in
-an oratorio. She seemed to feel--let any one look at the face which
-is to be seen in her portrait, and one will understand how this could
-be--that music was something too spiritual to be made the medium only
-for the entertainment of the multitude. Taking the highest imaginable
-view of the scope and value and meaning of music, it can be understood
-that this girl should shrink from such an ordeal as the concert platform
-offered to her every time she was announced to sing. No more frivolous
-and fashionable a population than that of Bath in the second half of
-the eighteenth century was to be found in any city in the world; and
-Elizabeth Linley felt that she was regarded by the concert-goers as no
-more than one of the numerous agents they employed to lessen the ennui
-of an empty day. The music which she worshipped--the spirit with which
-her soul communed in secret--was, she felt, degraded by being sold to
-the crowd and subjected to the patronage of their applause.
-
-Of course when she spoke to her father in this strain he sympathised
-with her, and bemoaned the fate that made it necessary for him to
-have her assistance to save her mother and brothers and sisters from
-starvation. And so for several years she was an obedient child, but
-very weary of the rôle. She sang and enchanted thousands. She did not,
-however, think of them; her mind dwelt daily upon the tens of thousands
-who regarded her (she thought) as fulfilling no nobler purpose than to
-divert them for half an hour between taking the waters and sitting down
-to faro or quadrille.
-
-But it was not alone her distaste for the publicity of the platform that
-made her miserable. The fact was that she was distracted by suitors. She
-had, it was said, accepted the offer of an elderly gentleman named Long,
-the wealthy head of a county family in the neighbourhood; and Foote,
-with his usual vulgarity, which took the form of personality, wrote
-a play--a wretched thing even for Foote--in which he dealt with an
-imaginarily comic and a certainly sordid situation, with Miss Linley
-on the one side and Mr. Long on the other. Serious biographers have not
-hesitated to accept this situation invented by the notorious _farceur_,
-who was no greater a respecter of persons than he was of truth, as a
-valuable contribution to the history of the Linley family, especially
-in regard to the love affair of the lovely girl by whose help they were
-made famous. They have never thought of the possibility of her having
-accepted Mr. Long in order to escape from her horror of the concert
-platform. They have never suggested the possibility of Mr. Long's
-settling a sum of money on her out of his generosity when he found out
-that Miss Linley did not love him.
-
-It was not Mr. Long, however, but a man named Mathews--sometimes
-referred to as Captain, occasionally as Major--who was the immediate
-cause of her running away with young Sheridan. This man Mathews was
-known to be married, and to be in love with Elizabeth Linley, and yet
-he was allowed to be constantly in her company, pestering her with his
-attentions, and there was no one handy to horsewhip him. Sheridan's
-sister, who afterwards married Mr. Lefanu, wrote an account of this
-curious matter for the guidance of Thomas Moore, who was preparing his
-biography of her brother. She stated that Miss Linley was afraid to tell
-her father of Major Mathews and his impossible suit, and so she was “at
-length induced to consult Richard Sheridan, whose intimacy with Major
-Mathews, at the time, she thought might warrant his interference.” And
-then we are told that “R. B. Sheridan sounded Mathews on the subject and
-at length prevailed on him to give up the pursuit.”
-
-That is how the adoring sister of “R. B. Sheridan,” who had been talking
-to Elizabeth Linley of him as of a knight-errant, eager to redress the
-wrongs of maidens in distress, wrote of her brother! He “sounded Mathews
-on the subject.” On what subject? The subject was the pursuit of an
-innocent girl by a contemptible scoundrel. How does the knight-errant
-“sound” such a person when he sets out to redress the maiden's
-ill-treatment? One R. B. Sheridan, a dramatist, gives us a suggestion as
-to what were his ideas on this point: “Do you think that Achilles or my
-little Alexander the Great ever enquired where the right lay? No, sir,
-they drew their broadswords and left the lazy sons of peace to settle
-the rights of the matter.” Now young Sheridan, who is reported by his
-sister as “sounding” Mathews, was no coward. He proved himself to be
-anything but afraid of Mathews, so that one must, out of justice to him,
-assume that the only attempt he would have made to “sound” the scoundrel
-at this time would be through the medium of a sound hiding.
-
-It is at such a point as this in the biography of an interesting man
-that one blesses the memory--and the notebook--of the faithful Boswell.
-Thomas Moore was quite intimate with Richard Brinsley Sheridan, but
-he never thought of asking him for some information on this particular
-incident in his life, the fact being that he had no definite intention
-of becoming his biographer. We know perfectly well how Boswell would
-have plied Johnson with questions on the subject, had it ever come
-to his ears that Johnson had undertaken to play the rôle of a
-knight-errant.
-
-“Pray, sir, what did you say to Mathews when you sounded him?”
-
-“Do you think, sir, that in any circumstances a married gentleman who is
-showing marked attentions to a virtuous young lady should be sounded by
-a young gentleman who has been entrusted with the duty of protecting the
-lady?”
-
-Alas! instead of the unblushing indelicacy of Boswell, who hunted for
-trifles as a pig hunts for truffles, we are obliged to be content with
-the vagueness of a sister, whose memory, we have an uneasy feeling, was
-not quite so good as she thought it was.
-
-And from the memory of this sister we have an account of the amazing
-elopement of Richard Sheridan with Elizabeth Linley.
-
-When the young gentleman put her into the chaise that was waiting for
-them on the London road, Miss Linley had never thought of him except as
-a kind friend. She had accepted his services upon this occasion as she
-would those of a courier to conduct her to London, and thence to France,
-where she intended to enter a convent. The Miss Sheridans had lived in
-France, and had some friends at St.
-
-Quentin, who knew of a very nice clean convent--an establishment which
-they could strongly recommend, and where she could find that complete
-seclusion which Miss Linley longed for, and their brother Dick was
-thought to be a very suitable companion for her on her way thither. Mrs.
-Lefanu (_née_ Sheridan), who wrote out the whole story in after years,
-mentioned that her chivalrous brother was to provide a woman to act as
-her maid in the chaise; but as not the least reference to this chaperon
-is to be found in the rest of the story, we fear that it must be assumed
-either that her brother forgot this unimportant detail, or that the
-detail was unavoidably detained in Bath. What is most likely of all is
-that the solitary reference to this mysterious female was dovetailed,
-somewhat clumsily, into the narrative, at the suggestion of some
-Mrs. Grundy, who shook her head at the narrative of so much chivalry
-unsupported by a responsible chaperon. However this may be, the shadowy
-chaperon is never alluded to again; she may have faded away into the
-mists of morning and London, or she may have vanished at the first
-turnpike. Nothing was seen or heard of her subsequently.
-
-The boy and the girl reached London in safety, and drove to the house
-of a Mr. Ewart, a relation of the Sheridans, to whom Dick offered the
-explanation of his unconventional visit on the very plausible grounds
-of his being engaged to the young lady, a great heiress, whom he was
-hastening to France to marry. Of course the Ewart family were
-perfectly satisfied with this explanation; and another friend, who had
-indisputable claims to consideration, being, we are told, “the son of
-a respectable brandy merchant in the City,” suggested that they should
-sail from London to Dunkirk, “in order to make pursuit more difficult.”
- How such an end could be compassed by such means is left to the
-imagination of a reader. The young pair, however, jumped at the
-suggestion, and reached Dunkirk after an uneventful crossing.
-
-It is at this point in the sister's account of the itinerary of this
-interesting enterprise that she mentions that Richard suddenly threw
-away the disguise of the chivalrous and disinterested protector of the
-young lady, and declared that he would not consent to conduct her to the
-convent unless she agreed to marry him immediately. Mrs. Lefanu's exact
-words are as follows: “After quitting Dunkirk Mr. Sheridan was more
-explicit with Miss Linley as to his views on accompanying her to
-France.”
-
-This is certainly a very lawyer-like way of condoning the conduct of
-a mean scoundrel; but, happily for the credit of Richard Brinsley
-Sheridan, it is the easiest thing in the world to discredit his sister's
-narrative, although she adds that he urged on the girl what would seem
-to a casual observer of society in general to be perfectly true--“she
-must be aware that after the step she had taken, she could not appear
-in England but as his wife.” As the sequel proved this alleged statement
-was quite untrue! She did appear in England, and not as his wife, and
-no one seemed to think anything the worse of her on account of her
-escapade. But to suggest that Sheridan took advantage of the trust
-which the innocent girl had reposed in him to compel her to marry him,
-a penniless minor with no profession and very little education, is
-scarcely consistent with an account of his high-mindedness and his sense
-of what was chivalrous.
-
-And then the sister pleasantly remarks that “Miss Linley, who really
-preferred him greatly to any person, was not difficult to persuade, and
-at a village not far from Calais the marriage ceremony was performed
-by a priest who was known to be often employed upon such occasions.”
- Whoever this clergyman may have been, it is impossible for any one to
-believe that in the discharge of his office he was kept in constant
-employment; for “such occasions” as answered to the account given by
-the Sheridan sister of the nuptials of the young couple, must have been
-extremely rare.
-
-And yet Moore, on whom the responsibilities of a biographer rested very
-lightly, was quite content to accept as strictly accurate the narrative
-of Mrs. Lefanu, contradicted though it was by subsequent events in which
-both her brother and Miss Linley were concerned. Moore does not seem to
-have troubled himself over any attempt to obtain confirmation of one
-of the most important incidents in the life of the man of whom he was
-writing.
-
-He made no attempt to discover if the accommodating priest at the
-village near Calais was still alive when he was compiling his biography
-of Sheridan, and it was not beyond the bounds of possibility that he was
-still alive; nor did this easy-going Irish master of melodies consider
-that it devolved on him to try to find some record of the marriage in
-question.
-
-Now what happened after this remarkable union? The narrative of the
-sister is quite as circumstantial as one could wish it to be, and even
-more imaginative. But whatever qualities of excellence it possesses,
-it certainly does not carry to a reader any conviction of accuracy.
-It states that the interesting young couple went to Lille instead of
-carrying out their original intention of going to St. Quentin, and
-that Miss Linley--now Mrs. Sheridan, of course--“immediately secured an
-apartment in a convent, where it was settled she was to remain either
-till Sheridan came of age or till he was in a situation to support
-a wife. He remained a few days at Lille to be satisfied that she was
-settled to her satisfaction; but, whether from agitation of mind or
-fatigue, she was taken ill, and an English physician, Dr. Dolman, of
-York, was called in to attend her. From what he perceived of her case he
-wished to have her more immediately under his care than he could in the
-convent, and he and Mrs. Dolman most kindly invited her to their house.”
-
-This would seem to have been very kind indeed on the part of the doctor
-and his wife, but it so happened that a letter turned up some years ago
-which the late Mr. Fraser Rae was able to print in the first volume of
-his admirable _Life of Sheridan_, and this letter makes it plain
-that wherever Mrs. Sheridan (_née_ Linley) may have been, she was not
-sojourning with the Dolmans. It is from Dr. Dolman himself, and it was
-addressed to “Monsieur Sherridan, Gentilhomme Anglois, à l'Hôtel de
-Bourbon, Sur la Grande Place.” It recommends the administering of
-certain powders in a glass of white wine twice daily, and sends
-“compliments and wishes of health to your lady.”
-
-The question then remains: Was the lady at this time an inmate of the
-convent, and did the doctor expect “Monsieur Sherridan” to go to this
-institution twice a day in order to administer the powders to his lady?
-Would not the doctor think it somewhat peculiar that the husband should
-be at the Hôtel de Bourbon and his lady an inmate of the convent?
-
-These questions must be left to be answered according to the experience
-of life of any one interested in the matter. But it is worth noticing
-that, on the very day that he received the missive from Dr. Dolman,
-Sheridan wrote to his brother at Bath and mentioned that Miss Linley--he
-continued to call her Miss Linley--was now “fixing in a convent, where
-she has been entered some time.” Does the first phrase mean that she was
-already in the convent, or only about to take up her residence there?
-However this question may be answered, it is clear that Sheridan
-expected to leave her behind him at Lille, for he adds, “Everything
-is now so happily settled here I will delay no longer giving you that
-information, though probably I shall set out for England without knowing
-a syllable of what has happened with you.”
-
-So far, then, as his emprise in regard to the lady was concerned, he
-considered the incident to be closed. “Though you may have been ignorant
-for some time of our proceedings, you could never have been uneasy,” he
-continues hopefully, “lest anything should tempt me to depart, even in a
-thought, from the honour and consistency which engaged me at first.”
-
-Some people have suggested that Sheridan, when he drew the character
-of Charles Surface, meant it to be something of an excuse for his own
-casual way of life. But it must strike a good many persons who believe
-that he induced the innocent girl, whom he set forth to protect on her
-way to a refuge from the infamous designs of Mathews, to marry him, that
-Sheridan approached much more closely to the character of Joseph in this
-correspondence with his brother. A more hypocritical passage than that
-just quoted could hardly have been uttered by Joseph Surface. As a
-matter of fact, one of Joseph's sentiments is only a paraphrase of this
-unctuous assumption of honour and consistency.
-
-But this criticism is only true if one can believe his sister's story of
-the marriage. If it is true that Sheridan set out from England with
-Miss Linley with the intention of so compromising her that she should
-be compelled to marry him, at the same time pretending to her and to his
-brother to be actuated by the highest motives in respect of the ill-used
-girl, it is impossible to think of him except with contempt.
-
-Happily the weight of evidence is overpoweringly in Sheridan's favour.
-We may think of him as a rash, an inconsiderate, and a culpably careless
-boy to take it upon him to be the girl's companion to the French
-convent, but we refuse to believe that he was ever capable of acting the
-grossly disingenuous part attributed to him by his sister, and accepted
-without question by his melodious biographer. There are many people,
-however, who believe that when a man marries a woman, no matter in what
-circumstances, he has “acted the part of a gentleman” in regard to her,
-and must be held to be beyond reproach on any account whatsoever so far
-as the woman is concerned. In the eyes of such censors of morality, as
-in the eyes of the law, the act of marriage renders null and void all
-ante-nuptial deeds; and it was probably some impression of this type
-which was acquired by Sheridan's sister, inducing her to feel sure
-(after a time) that her brother's memory would suffer if his biographer
-were to tell the story of his inconsiderate conduct in running away with
-Elizabeth Linley, unless it was made clear that he married her the first
-moment he had to spare. She tried to save her brother's memory by
-persuading her own to accommodate itself to what she believed to be her
-brother's emergency. She was a good sister, and she kept her memory well
-under control.
-
-But what did the father of the young lady think of the matter? What did
-the people of Bath, who were well acquainted with all the actors engaged
-in this little comedy, think of the matter? Happily these questions can
-be answered by appealing to facts rather than to the well-considered
-recollections of a discreet lady.
-
-We know for certain that Mr. Linley, who was, as one might suppose,
-fully equipped to play the part of the enraged father of the runaway
-girl, turned up at the place of her retreat--he had no trouble in
-learning in what direction to look for her--and having found her and the
-young gentleman who had run away with her, did he, under the impulse
-of his anger, fanned by his worldly knowledge, insist with an uplifted
-horsewhip upon his marrying her without a moment's delay? Mr. Linley
-knew Bath, and to know Bath was to know the world. Was he, then, of the
-same opinion as that expressed (according to his sister's narrative) by
-young Sheridan to persuade Miss Linley to be his bride--namely, that it
-would be impossible for her to show her face in Bath unless as the wife
-of Richard Brinsley Sheridan?
-
-Nothing of the sort. Whatever reproaches he may have flung at his
-daughter, however strong may have been his denunciation of the conduct
-of the man who had run away with her, they had not the effect either of
-inducing his daughter or her companion to reveal to him the fact that
-they had been married for several days, or of interrupting the friendly
-relations that had existed for nearly two years between himself and
-young Sheridan. The dutiful memory of Miss Sheridan records that Mr.
-Linley, “after some private conversation with Mr. Sheridan, appeared
-quite reconciled to his daughter, but insisted on her returning to
-England with him (Mr. Linley) to fulfil several engagements he had
-entered into on her account. The whole party set out together the next
-day, Mr. Linley having previously promised to allow his daughter to
-return to Lille when her engagements were over.”
-
-The comedy of the elopement had become a farce of the “whimsical” type.
-Nothing more amusing or amazing has ever been seen on the vaudeville
-stage. The boy and the girl run off together and get married. The
-infuriated father follows them, ruthlessly invades their place of
-refuge, and then, “after some private conversation” with his daughter's
-husband, who does not tell him that he is her husband, says to the young
-woman, “My dear, you must come home with me to sing at a concert.”
-
-“Certainly, papa,” replies the girl. “Wait a minute, and I'll go too,”
- cries the unconfused husband of the daughter. “All right, come along,”
- says the father, and they all take hands and sing the ridiculous trio
-which winds up the vaudeville after it has run on inconsequentially for
-a merry forty minutes--there is a _pas de trois_, and the curtain falls!
-
-Alas, for the difference between Boswell the bald and Moore the
-melodious! The bald prose of Boswell's diaries may have made many of
-the personages with whom he dealt seem silly, but that was because
-he himself was silly, and, being aware of this fact, the more
-discriminating of his readers have no great difficulty in arriving
-at the truth of any matter with which he deals. He would never have
-accepted unreservedly such a narrative as that which Moore received
-from Mrs. Lefanu (_née_ Sheridan), and put into his own language, or as
-nearly into his own language as he could. But Moore found it “so hard to
-narrate familiar events eloquently,” he complained. He actually thought
-that Mrs. Lefanu's narrative erred on the side of plausibility! The
-mysterious elopement, the still more mysterious marriage, and the
-superlatively mysterious return of the fugitives and the irate father
-hand-in-hand, he regarded as events so commonplace as not to be
-susceptible of lyrical treatment. But the most farcical of the doings
-of his own _Fudge Family_ were rational in comparison with the familiar
-events associated with the flight to France of his hero and heroine. The
-_Trip to Scarborough_ of Sheridan the farce-writer was founded on
-much more “familiar events” than this extraordinary trip to Lille, as
-narrated for the benefit of the biographer by Mrs. Lefanu.
-
-What seems to be the truth of the whole matter is simply that Sheridan
-undertook to be a brother to Elizabeth Linley, and carried out his
-compact faithfully, without allowing anything to tempt him to depart,
-as he wrote to Charles, “even in thought from the honour and consistency
-which engaged [him] at first.” It must be remembered that he was a
-romantic boy of twenty, and this is just the age at which nearly every
-boy--especially a boy in love--is a Sir Galahad. As for Miss Linley,
-one has only to look at her portrait to know what she was. She was not
-merely innocent, she was innocence itself.
-
-When Mr. Linley appeared at Lille he accepted without reserve the
-explanation offered to him by his daughter and by Sheridan; and,
-moreover, he knew that although there was a school for scandal located
-at Bath, yet so highly was his daughter thought of in all circles, and
-so greatly was young Sheridan liked, that no voice of calumny would be
-raised against either of them when they returned with him. And even if
-it were possible that some whisper, with its illuminating smile above
-the arch of a painted fan, might be heard in the Assembly Rooms when
-some one mentioned the name of Miss Linley in connection with that of
-young Sheridan and with the trip to Lille, he felt convinced that such
-a whisper would be robbed of its sting when every one knew that the girl
-and the boy and the father all returned together and on the best terms
-to Bath.
-
-As the events proved, he had every right to take even so sanguine a view
-of the limitations of the range of the Pump Room gossips. On the return
-of the three from Lille no one suggested that Sheridan and Miss Linley
-should get married. No one except the scoundrel Mathews suggested that
-Sheridan had acted badly or even unwisely, though undoubtedly he had
-given grounds for such implications. The little party returned to Bath,
-and Miss Linley fulfilled her concert and oratorio engagements, went
-into society as before, and had at her feet more eligible suitors than
-had ever knelt there. We have it on the authority of Charles Sheridan,
-the elder brother, that in Bath the feeling was that Richard had acted
-as a man of honour in taking the girl to the convent at Lille. Writing
-to their uncle, Mr. Chamberlaine, he expressed surprise that “in
-this age when the world does not abound in Josephs, most people are
-(notwithstanding the general tendency of mankind to judge unfavourably)
-inclined to think that he (Richard) acted with the strictest honour in
-his late expedition with Miss L., when the circumstances might allow of
-their being very dubious on this head without incurring the imputation
-of being censorious.”
-
-This testimony as to what was the opinion in Bath regarding the
-expedition is extremely valuable, coming as it does from one who was
-never greatly disposed to take a brotherly or even a friendly view of
-Richard's conduct at any time--coming as it does also from a man who had
-been in love with Miss Linley.
-
-At any rate this escapade of young Mr. Sheridan was the most fortunate
-for him of any in which he ever engaged, and he was a man of many
-escapades, for it caused Elizabeth Linley to fall in love with him, and
-never was a man beloved by a sweeter or more faithful woman. To know how
-beautiful was her nature one has only to look at her face in either of
-the great portraits of her which are before us to-day. No characteristic
-of all that is held to be good and gracious and sympathetic--in one
-word, that is held to be womanly, is absent from her face. No man that
-ever lived was worthy of such a woman; but if only men who are worthy of
-such women were beloved by them, mankind would be the losers. She loved
-Sheridan with the truest devotion--such devotion as might be expected
-from such a nature as hers--and she died in the act of writing to him
-the love-letter of a wife to her dearly loved husband.
-
-They did not get married until a year after the date of their flight to
-the Continent, and then they were described as bachelor and spinster.
-Neither of them ever gave a hint, even in any of the numerous letters
-which they exchanged during this period, that they had gone through
-the ceremony of marriage at that village near Calais. More than once a
-strained situation would have been relieved had it been possible to make
-such a suggestion, for now and again each of the lovers grew jealous of
-the other for a day or two. But neither said, “Pray remember that you
-are not free to think of marrying any one. We are husband and wife,
-although we were married in secret.” Neither of them could make such an
-assertion. It would not have been true. What seems to us to be the truth
-is that it was Sir Galahad who acted as protector to his sister when
-Richard Brinsley Sheridan went with Elizabeth Linley to France.
-
-
-
-
-THE AMAZING DUELS
-
-WHEN young Mr. Sheridan returned to Bath after his happy little
-journey to France with Miss Linley and back with Mr. Linley, he may have
-believed that the incident was closed. He had done all that--and perhaps
-a little more than--the most chivalrous man of experience and means
-could be expected to do for the young woman toward whom he had stood
-in the position of a protecting brother. He had conducted her to the
-convent at Lille, on which she had set her heart, and he had been able
-to explain satisfactorily to her father on his arrival at the hotel
-where he and Miss Linley were sojourning in the meantime, what his
-intentions had been when he had eloped with her from Bath. No doubt he
-had also acted as Miss Linley's adviser in respect of those negotiations
-with her father which resulted in the happy return of the whole family
-party to London.
-
-In London he heard that Mathews, the scoundrel who had been pursuing
-Miss Linley in the most disreputable fashion, was in town also, and
-that, previous to leaving Bath, he had inserted in the Chronicle
-a defamatory advertisement regarding him (Sheridan); and on this
-information coming to his ears he put his pistols into his pocket and
-went in search of Mathews at the lodgings of the latter.
-
-Miss Sheridan tells us about the pistols in the course of her lucid
-narrative, and states on her own responsibility that when he came upon
-Mathews the latter was dreadfully frightened at the sight of one of the
-pistols protruding from Sheridan's pocket. Mr. Fraser Rae, the competent
-biographer of Sheridan, smiles at the lady's statement. “The sight of
-the pistols would have alarmed Sheridan's sisters,” he says, “but it
-is in accordance with probability that he (Mathews) expected a hostile
-meeting to follow as a matter of course. He must have been prepared for
-it, and he would have been strangely ignorant of the world in which he
-lived if he had deemed it unusual.”
-
-[Illustration: 0301]
-
-But Mr. Fraser Rae was not so strangely ignorant of the world in which
-Sheridan and Mathews lived as to fancy that there was nothing unusual
-in a gentleman's going to ask another gentleman whom he believed to have
-affronted him, for an explanation, with a pair of pistols in his pocket.
-In the circumstances a duel would have been nothing unusual; but surely
-Mr. Fraser Rae could not have fancied that Sheridan set out with the
-pistols in his pocket in order to fight a duel with Mathews in the man's
-lodgings, without preliminaries and without seconds. If Mathews caught
-sight of the butt of a pistol sticking out of Sheridan's pocket he had
-every reason to be as frightened as Miss Sheridan declared he was, for
-he must have believed that his visitor had come to murder him.
-
-At any rate, frightened or not frightened, pistols or no pistols,
-Mathews, on being interrogated by Sheridan as to the advertisement in
-the _Bath Chronicle_, assured him that he had been grossly misinformed
-as to the character of the advertisement. It was, he affirmed, nothing
-more than an inquiry after Sheridan, which the family of the latter had
-sanctioned. He then, according to Miss Sheridan, expressed the greatest
-friendship for his visitor, and said that he would be made extremely
-unhappy if any difference should arise between them.
-
-So young Mr. Sheridan, balked of his murderous intentions, returned with
-unsullied pistols to his hotel, and set out for Bath with Miss Linley
-and her father.
-
-But if he fancied that Mathews had passed out of his life he was quickly
-undeceived. Before he had time to take his seat at the family table he
-had got a copy of the newspaper containing the advertisement, of the
-tenor of which Mathews had told him in London he had been misinformed;
-and now his sisters made him fully aware of the action taken by the
-same man on learning of the flight of Sheridan and Elizabeth Linley. The
-result was that he now perceived what every one should have known long
-before--namely, that Mathews was a scoundrel, who should never have
-been allowed to obtain the footing to which he had been admitted in the
-Sheridan and Linley families.
-
-It appears that the moment Mathews heard that Miss Linley had been
-carried beyond his reach, he rushed to the Sheridans' house, and
-there found the girls and their elder brother, who had been wisely
-communicated with by the landlord, and had left his retirement in the
-farmhouse in the country to take charge of the sisters in the absence of
-their brother Richard. Mathews behaved like a madman--no unusual _rôle_
-for him--heaping reproaches upon the absent member of the family,
-and demanding to be told of his whereabouts. He seems to have been
-encouraged by Charles Sheridan, who had unwisely said something in
-disparagement of his brother. Mathews had the effrontery to avow his
-passion for Elizabeth Linley, and in the bitterest terms to accuse
-Richard Sheridan of having acted basely in taking her beyond his reach.
-
-Then he hastened to Richard Sheridan's friend and confidant, a young man
-named Brereton, and to him he sent messages of friendship and, possibly,
-condolence to Mr. Linley, though his object in paying this visit was
-undoubtedly not to endeavour to exculpate himself as regards Mr. Linley,
-but to find out where the fugitives were to be found. He may have had
-visions of pursuing them, of fighting a duel with Richard Sheridan, and
-if he succeeded in killing him, of getting the girl at last into his
-power.
-
-But Mr. Brereton not only did not reveal the whereabouts of his
-friend--he knew that Sheridan meant to go to Lille, for he wrote to him
-there--but he also refused to give his interrogator any sympathy for
-having failed to accomplish the destruction of the girl. Brereton,
-indeed, seems to have convinced him that the best thing he could do was
-to leave Bath as quickly as possible. Mathews had probably by this time
-discovered, as Brereton certainly had, that the feeling against him in
-Bath was profound. There can be little doubt that in the course of the
-day Charles Sheridan became aware of this fact also; he had only a few
-months before confessed himself to be deeply in love with Elizabeth
-Linley, and when he heard that his brother had run away with her he
-could not but have been somewhat incensed against him, for Richard had
-not taken him into his confidence. By the time his brother returned,
-however, any ill-feeling that Charles may have felt had disappeared,
-and as Charles always showed himself to be a cool and calculating
-gentleman--one who always kept an eye on the jumping cat--it is not
-going too far to assume that his change of tone in respect of his rather
-impetuous brother was due to his perception of the trend of public
-opinion on the subject of the elopement.
-
-Brereton had persuaded Mathews that there was nothing left for him but
-to quit Bath; but before taking this step the latter had inserted in the
-_Bath Chronicle_ the advertisement of which Richard had heard, but which
-he had not read when in London, thus leaving himself in no position to
-contradict Mathews' assertion as to its amicable wording.
-
-But now the newspaper was put into his hands by Charles, and he had
-an opportunity of pronouncing an opinion on this point. It was dated
-Wednesday, April the 8th, 1772, and it ran as follows:
-
-“Mr. Richard S-------- having attempted in a letter left behind him for
-that purpose, to account for his scandalous method of running away from
-this place by insinuations derogating from my character and that of a
-young lady, innocent as far as relates to me, or my knowledge, since
-which he has neither taken any notice of letters or even informed his
-own family of the place where he has hid himself; I cannot longer think
-he deserves the treatment of a gentleman, and in this public method, to
-post him as a L------, and a treacherous S--------.
-
-“And as I am convinced there have been many malevolent incendiaries
-concerned in the propagation of this infamous lie, if any of them,
-unprotected by age, _infirmities_, or profession, they are to
-acknowledge the part they have acted, and affirm _to_ what they have
-said _of_ me, they may depend on receiving the proper reward of their
-villainy, in the most public manner. The world will be candid enough to
-judge properly (I make no doubt) of any private abuse on this subject
-for the future, as nobody can defend himself from an accusation he is
-ignorant of Thomas Mathews.” Such a piece of maundering imbecility as
-this had probably never before appeared in a newspaper. It must have
-been read in Bath with roars of laughter. But we do not hear that any of
-the ready writers of the time and the town yielded to the temptation of
-commenting upon the “malevolent incendiarism” of the composition. A man
-of the world, had it been written about himself, would possibly
-have thought that its illiteracy spoke for itself, and so would have
-refrained from making any move in regard to it or its author. But one
-can imagine what effect reading it would have upon a boy of Sheridan's
-spirit. For a youth of twenty to find himself posted as a Liar and
-a Scoundrel, to say nothing of a “malevolent incendiary,” and remain
-indifferent would be impossible. Sheridan did not take long to make up
-his mind what he should do in the circumstances.
-
-The dramatic touch which his sister introduces in writing of Richard's
-perusal of the paragraph is intensely true to nature. He simply put a
-word or two to Charles relative to what Mathews had told him in
-London about his, Sheridan's, family sanctioning the insertion of the
-advertisement. Charles had no difficulty in vindicating his integrity on
-this point. Richard knew perfectly well that it is one thing to say that
-a man has acted too hastily, but quite another to suggest that that man
-is “a L------ and a S--------.”
-
-So apparently the matter ended, and Richard continued chatting with his
-sisters, giving no sign of what was in his mind. The girls went to
-their beds, suspecting nothing. The next morning their two brothers were
-missing!
-
-Of course the girls were dreadfully alarmed. Some people in the house
-told them that they had heard high words being exchanged between the
-brothers after the girls had retired, and shortly afterwards the two
-former had gone out together. The sister, in her narrative, mentions
-that she received a hint or two of a duel between Richard and Charles,
-but she at once put these suggestions aside. The poor girls must have
-been nearly distracted. Certainly the house of Sheridan was passing
-through a period of great excitement. The estimable head of the family
-was himself expecting a crisis in his affairs as manager of the theatre
-in Dublin--Mr. Thomas Sheridan was never far removed from a crisis--and
-in his absence his young people were doing pretty much as they pleased.
-He had no power of controlling them; all that he had to do with them was
-to pay their bills. Neither of the sons was earning anything, and while
-one of them was living as a man of fashion, the other had thought it
-well to cut himself off from his sisters, taking lodgings at a farm some
-way out of Bath It is the girls of the house for whom one feels most.
-Alicia, the elder, was seventeen, Elizabeth was but twelve. They must
-have been distracted. So would their father have been if he had had a
-chance of learning all that was going on at Bath.
-
-But, of course, when young gentlemen of spirit are falling in love with
-beauteous maidens, and retiring to cure themselves by mingling with
-pastoral scenes reminiscent of the gentle melancholy of Mr. Alexander
-Pope's shepherds and shepherdesses (done in Dresden), every one of
-whom murmurs mournfully and melodiously of a rejected suit--when young
-gentlemen are running away with afflicted damsels and returning to
-fight their enemies, they cannot be expected to think of the incidental
-expenses of the business, which are to be defrayed by their father, any
-more than of the distraction which takes possession of their sisters.
-
-The two young gentlemen were missing, and had left for their sisters
-no explanation of their absence--no hint as to the direction of their
-flight. And there were other people in the house talking about the high
-words that had been exchanged between the brothers at midnight. It is
-not surprising that the poor girls should be distressed and distracted.
-
-Considering that Miss Linley was the first cause of the excitement in
-the midst of which the family had been living for some weeks, it was
-only natural that the elder of the girls should send for her with a view
-to have some light thrown on this new development of the heroic incident
-in which Miss Linley had assisted. But Miss Linley, on being applied
-to, affirmed that she knew nothing of the disappearance of the brothers,
-that she had heard of nothing that should cause them to leave Bath at a
-moment's notice. She was, unfortunately, a young woman of imagination.
-In a crisis such a one is either very helpful, or very helpless. Poor
-Miss Linley was the latter. She had just come through a great crisis in
-her own life, and she had not emerged from it without suffering. It was
-too much to ask her to face another in the family of her friends. She
-went off in a fainting fit on hearing the news of the disappearance of
-the young men, and her father left her in the hands of a medical man,
-and turned his attention to the condition of Miss Sheridan, who was
-unable to walk back to her home, and had to be put into a chair,
-Mr. Linley walking beside her with her young sister. It is more than
-possible that Mr. Linley was beginning to feel that he had had quite
-enough of the Sheridan family to last him for the remainder of his life.
-
-For two days nothing whatever was heard of the missing brothers. We have
-no means of knowing if Miss Sheridan communicated to their father in
-Dublin the mysterious story she had to tell; the chances are that she
-was advised by Mr. Linley to refrain from doing so until she might have
-something definite to tell him. Mr. Linley never had any particular
-regard for the elder Sheridan, and he had no wish to have him summoned
-from his theatre at Dublin to make his remarks about the dangerous
-attractiveness of Elizabeth Linley, and the culpable carelessness of
-her father in allowing her to be carried off to France by a young man
-without a penny except what he got from his own father.
-
-At any rate, Tom Sheridan did not leave his theatre or his pupils
-in elocution, and there was no need for him to do so, for on Tuesday
-evening--they had been missing on the Sunday morning--Dick and his
-brother returned. They were both greatly fatigued, and said that they
-had not been in bed since they had left Bath. This meant that Dick had
-actually not slept in Bath since he had originally left the city in the
-company of Miss Linley. Between the Friday and the Tuesday he had posted
-from London to Bath with the Linleys, and had forthwith returned to
-London with his brother and then back once more to Bath without a pause.
-He, at least, had very good reason for feeling fatigued.
-
-His first act was to hand his sister an apology which had been made to
-him by Mathews. This document is worthy of being reprinted. It ran thus:
-
-“Being convinced that the expressions I made use of to Mr. Sheridan's
-disadvantage, were the effects of passion and misrepresentation,
-I intreat what I have said to that gentleman's disadvantage, and
-particularly beg his pardon for my advertisement in the _Bath
-Chronicle_. Th. Mathews.”
-
-He handed this document to his sister, and then it may be supposed that
-he went to bed. He had certainly good need of a sleep.
-
-Such is the drift of the story up to this point, as told by Mrs. Lefanu
-(Elizabeth Sheridan), and it differs in some particulars from that told
-by her brother Charles in a letter to their uncle, and, in a lesser
-degree, from the account given of the whole transaction by Richard
-Sheridan himself, who was surely in the best position to know exactly
-what happened upon the occasion of his first visit to Mathews in London,
-as well as upon the occasion of his second, made so hurriedly in the
-company of his brother.
-
-His second visit was, as might have been expected, the more exciting.
-It included the fighting of a duel with Mathews. The humours of duelling
-have been frequently dealt with in prose and comedy, and, assuredly the
-most amusing of all is to be found in Richard Brinsley Sheridan's _The
-Rivals_. One must confess, however, that the serious account given by
-the same writer of his hostile meeting with Mathews, on his return from
-Bath, suggests a much more ludicrous series of situations than are to be
-found in his play.
-
-In Sheridan's account he mentions that while still in France he received
-“several abusive threats” from Mathews, and these had such an effect
-upon him that he wrote to Mathews, swearing that he would not close his
-eyes in sleep in England till he had treated Mathews as he deserved.
-In order to carry out this vow he had actually sat up all night at
-Canterbury, where his party halted on their way from Dover to London.
-He called upon Mathews on arriving in London, at the latter's lodging
-in Crutched Friars; this was at midnight, and the key of the door being
-mislaid, he had to wait two hours before he was admitted. He found
-Mathews in bed, but he induced him to rise and dress, though, in spite
-of his compliance as regards his raiment, he complained bitterly of the
-cold. There does not seem to have been any great suffering on Sheridan's
-part through a lack of heat. Then, as his sister's narrative put it, the
-man declared that his visitor had been grossly misinformed in regard to
-the libel in the Chronicle; and so he left for Bath, as has already been
-stated.
-
-And now comes the account given by Sheridan of the return visit, and,
-told in his own laconic style, it suggests such comic situations as
-border on farce.
-
-“Mr. S.,” he wrote, “staid but three hours in Bath. He returned to
-London. He sent to Mr. M. from Hyde Parck. He came with Captain Knight
-his second. He objected frequently to the ground. They adjourned to the
-Hercules Pillars. They returned to Hyde Parck. Mr. M. objected to the
-observation of an officer. They returned to Hercules Pillars. They
-adjourned to the Bedford Coffee house by agreement. Mr. M. was gone
-to the Castel Tavern. Mr. S. followed with Mr. E. Mr. M. made many
-declarations in favour of Mr. S. They engaged. Mr. M. was disarmed,
-Captain Knight ran in. Mr. M. begged his life and afterwards denied the
-advantage. Mr. S. was provoked by the (really well-meant) interposition
-of Captain Knight and the illusion of Mr. M. He insisted since Mr. M.
-denied the advantage, that he should give up his sword. Mr. M. denied,
-but sooner than return to his ground he gave it up. It was broke, and
-Mr. M. offered another. He was then called on to retract his abuse
-and beg Mr. S.'s pardon. With much altercation and much ill grace he
-complied.”
-
-The remainder of this remarkably succinct composition is devoted to the
-subsequent misrepresentations of the transaction by Mathews, and by the
-writer's appeal to the seconds to say if his version of the encounter
-was not correct.
-
-But whatever Mathews' account may have been it could scarcely be more
-ludicrous than Sheridan's. The marching and countermarching of the
-four gentlemen--it appears that brother Charles, although accompanying
-Richard to London, thought it more prudent to remain under cover during
-the actual engagement; he waited at Brereton's lodgings--the excuses
-made by Mathews in order to get away without fighting, and then at the
-last moment, the carrying out (by agreement) of a manouvre which landed
-Mathews in one tavern and the rest of the party in another--the set-to
-of the principals immediately after the “declarations” of one of them in
-favour of the other, and the final catastrophe could hardly be surpassed
-by the actions of a pair of burlesque duellists in what is technically
-known as a “knockabout” entertainment.
-
-And after all this scrupulousness of detail one is left in doubt as
-to the exact _locale_ of the encounter. Did it take place in the
-coffee-room of the Castell Inn, or did the eager combatants retrace
-their steps to the “parck”? The document written by Sheridan, though
-dealing very fully with the forced marches of the army in the field,
-throws no light upon this question of the scene of the battle. In
-respect of the signing of the treaty of peace, and the payment of the
-indemnity, it is, however, moderately lucid. Sheridan must have told his
-sister that Mathews signed the apology immediately after the encounter;
-she states this in her narrative. But Mathews did not merely sign the
-apology, he wrote every word of it, as one may see by referring to the
-facsimile, thoughtfully given in Mr. Fraser Rae's _Life of Sheridan_,
-and it would be impossible to say that the caligraphy of the apology
-shows the least sign of that perturbation from which one must believe
-the writer was suffering at the moment. Its characteristic is neatness.
-It is in the fine old-fashioned Italian hand. Even an expert, who sees
-possibilities--when paid for it--in handwriting which would never occur
-to less imaginative observers, would scarcely venture to say that this
-neat little document was written by a man with another's sword at his
-throat.
-
-This is another element in the mystery of the duel, and it cannot be
-said that when we read the letter which the elder of the brothers
-wrote to his uncle, giving his account of the whole business, we feel
-ourselves in a clearer atmosphere. It really seems a pity that Mr.
-Browning did not make another _Ring and the Book_ series of studies out
-of this amazing duel. Charles Sheridan told his uncle that an apology
-was given to Richard by Mathews as a result of Richard's first visit to
-him in London, but when Richard read the advertisement in the Chronicle,
-which was the original casus belli, he considered this apology so
-inadequate that he set off for London to demand another. Charles also
-mentions, what neither his brother nor his sister had stated, that he
-himself, on reaching London on the Sunday evening, went to Mathews to
-endeavour to get a suitable apology--according to Richard's narrative
-Charles had good grounds for sending a challenge to Mathews on his own
-account--but “after two hours' altercation” he found that he had made no
-impression upon the man, so that his brother had no alternative but to
-call him out.
-
-But however the accounts of the lesser details of this affair of honour
-may differ, there can be no question that public opinion in Bath was all
-in favour of young Mr. Sheridan. It was acknowledged on every hand that
-he had acted from the first--that is, from the moment he assumed the
-duties of the protector of Miss Linley--with admirable courage, and with
-a full sense of what honour demanded of him. In short he came back from
-London, after so many sleepless nights, covered with glory. He was a
-tall, handsome fellow of twenty, with brilliant eyes; he had run away
-with the most beautiful girl in the world to save her from the clutches
-of a scoundrel; he had had four nights without sleep, and then he had
-fought a duel with the scoundrel and had obtained from him an apology
-for insertion in the newspapers. Few young gentlemen starting life
-wholly without means attain to so proud a position of achievement before
-they reach their majority.
-
-But of course all these feats of errantry and arms run up a bill.
-Young Mr. Sheridan's posting account must have been by itself pretty
-formidable, and, knowing that his father had never looked on him with
-the favour which he gave to his brother, Richard may now and again have
-felt a trifle uneasy at the prospect of meeting Mr. Sheridan. If his
-sister's memory is to be trusted, however, this meeting took place
-within a week or two of his duel, and no bones were broken. Mr. Sheridan
-had a few chiding words to say respecting the debts which his son had
-incurred, but these he paid, after obtaining from the boy the usual
-promise made under similar conditions before a like tribunal. The
-prodigal invariably acts up to his character for prodigality in the
-matter of promises of reform.
-
-Richard Sheridan, being something of a wit, though we do not get many
-examples of his faculty in the accounts extant of his early life, and
-assuredly not a single example in any of his letters that came into the
-hands of his biographers, may have sworn to his father never to run away
-with a girl who might be anxious to enter upon a conventual life. At
-any rate, his father did not show any great displeasure when he was made
-aware of the boy's conduct, though it is worth noting that Mr. Sheridan
-took exception to the general conviction that his son's act had been
-prompted by the most chivalrous aspirations.
-
-Mathews, however, had not yet been shaken off. He was back in Bath
-almost as soon as the Sheridans, and “malevolent incendiarism” was
-in the air. No slander was too base for him to use against Richard
-Sheridan, no insinuation too vile. But the popularity of the object of
-his calumny was now too firmly established in Bath to be shaken by the
-vaporous malevolence of his enemy. Mathews, finding himself thoroughly
-discredited in every quarter, did the only sensible thing recorded in
-his squalid history--he ran away to his home in Wales.
-
-He was here unfortunate enough to meet with a man named Barnard, or
-Barnett, who acted upon him pretty much as Sir Lucius O'Trigger did upon
-Squire Acres, explaining to him that it was quite impossible that
-the affair between him and Sheridan should remain as it was. It was
-absolutely necessary, he said, that another duel should take place. All
-the “incendiarism” in Mathews' nature was aroused by the fiery words of
-this man, and the precious pair hurried to Bath, where a challenge was
-sent to Sheridan through the hands of his eldest sister, under the guise
-of an invitation to some festivity.
-
-Sheridan was foolish enough to accept the challenge apparently without
-consulting with any one competent to advise him. According to his
-father the challenge had been preceded by several letters of the
-most scurrilous abuse. His wiser brother, who had just received an
-appointment as Secretary to the British Legation in Sweden, had gone
-to London with their father to make preparations for his departure for
-Stockholm, and immediately on hearing of the duel he wrote to Richard a
-typical elder brother's letter. It is dated July 3rd, 1772, so that, as
-the duel had only taken place the previous day, it cannot be said
-that he lost much time in expressing his deep sense of his brother's
-foolishness in meeting so great a scoundrel for the second time. “All
-your friends have condemned you,” he wrote. “You risked everything,
-where you had nothing to gain, to give your antagonist the thing he
-wished, a chance for recovering his reputation; he wanted to get rid
-of the contemptible opinion he was held in, and you were good-natured
-enough to let him do it at your expense. It is not a time to scold, but
-all your friends were of opinion you could, with the greatest propriety,
-have refused to meet him.”
-
-Without going into the question as to whether this sort of letter was
-the ideal one for one brother to write to another who was lying on his
-bed with several wounds in his throat, it is impossible to question the
-soundness of the opinion expressed by Charles Sheridan in respect of
-Richard's acceptance of Mathews' challenge. The challenge was, however,
-accepted, and the duel took place on King's Down, at three o'clock
-in the morning. Mathews' friend was Barnett, and Sheridan's a young
-gentleman named Paumier, who, it was said, was quite unacquainted with
-the rules of the game, and had never even seen a duel being fought. The
-accounts which survive of this second meeting of Sheridan and Mathews
-make it apparent that, if the first was a scene of comedy, this one was
-a tragic burlesque. It is said that Sheridan, on the signal being given,
-at once rushed in on his antagonist, endeavouring to disarm him as he
-had done upon the former occasion of their meeting, but, tripping over
-something, he literally, and not figuratively, fell upon the other,
-knocking him down with such violence that he was not only disarmed, but
-his sword was broken as well. Sheridan's own sword was also broken, so
-that one might fancy that the meeting would have terminated here. It did
-nothing of the sort. The encounter was only beginning, and anything more
-savagely burlesque than the sequel could not be imagined.
-
-The combatants must have rolled over, after the manner of the negro
-duellists on the variety stage, and when they had settled themselves
-each made a grab for the most serviceable fragment of his sword. Mathews
-being the heavier man contrived to keep uppermost in the scuffle, and,
-what gave him a decided advantage over his opponent, he managed to get
-his fingers on the hilt of his broken weapon. An appeal at this stage
-was made by the lad who was acting as Sheridan's second to put a stop
-to the fight; but the second ruffian, or the ruffian's second--either
-description applies to Barnett--declared that as both the antagonists
-were on the ground one could not be said to have any advantage over the
-other. This delicate question being settled, Mathews held the jagged,
-saw-like end--point it had none--of the broken sword at the other's
-throat and told him to beg for his life. Sheridan replied that he
-should refuse to beg his life from such a scoundrel, and forthwith the
-scoundrel began jabbing at his throat and face with the fragment of his
-weapon, a method of attack which was not robbed of its butchery by the
-appeal that it makes to a reader's sense of its comical aspect.
-
-It is doubtful, however, if the comic side of the transaction appealed
-very forcibly to the unfortunate boy who was being lacerated to death.
-He just managed to put aside a thrust or two before the end of the blade
-penetrated the flesh of his throat and pinned him to the ground. With a
-chuckle and, according to Tom Sheridan's account, an oath, Mathews got
-upon his feet, and, entering the coach which was waiting for him, drove
-away from the scene of his butchery. Sheridan was thereupon raised from
-the ground, and driven in his chaise with his second to the White Hart
-Inn. Two surgeons were immediately in attendance, and it was found
-that his wounds, though numerous, were not such as placed his life
-in jeopardy. They were, however, sufficiently serious to prevent his
-removal to his home that day.
-
-It does not appear that young Paumier told the sisters of the
-occurrence; but an account of the duel having appeared in the _Bath
-Chronicle_ the same afternoon, every one in the town must have been
-talking of it, though Mrs. Lefanu says neither she nor her sister heard
-a word of the matter until the next day. Then they hastened to the
-White Hart, and prevailed upon the surgeons to allow them to take their
-brother home. In a surprisingly short time he had quite recovered.
-Indeed, although there was a report that Sheridan's life was despaired
-of, there was no excuse for any one taking so gloomy a view of his
-hurts, for the exact truth was known to Charles Sheridan and his father
-in London early on the day following that of the fight.
-
-The pathetic part of the story of this ludicrous encounter is to be
-found in the story of the reception of the news by Elizabeth Linley. Her
-father had read in some of the papers that Sheridan was at the point of
-death, but, like the worldly-wise man that Mr. Linley was, he kept
-the news from his daughter. They were at Oxford together, and she was
-announced to sing at a concert, and he knew that had she learned all
-that the newspapers published, she might possibly not be able to do
-herself--and her father--justice. But, as one of the audience told his
-sister afterwards, the fact that every one who had come to hear Miss
-Linley sing was aware of the serious condition (as the papers alleged)
-of young Sheridan, and of her attachment to him, a feeling of sympathy
-for the lovely young creature added immeasurably to the interest of her
-performance.
-
-At the conclusion of the concert her father set out with her for Bath;
-and it was not until they had almost reached their home that their
-chaise was met by a clergyman named Pauton, and he summoned all his
-tact to enable him to prepare Elizabeth Linley for the news which he was
-entrusted to communicate to her. It is said that under the stress of
-her emotion the girl declared that Richard Sheridan was her husband, and
-that her place was by his side.
-
-Whatever truth there may be in this story it is certain that if she
-believed at that moment that Sheridan was her husband, she gave no sign
-of continuing in that belief, for though her numerous letters to him
-show that she was devoted to him, there is no suggestion in any of them
-that she believed herself to be his wife. On the contrary, there are
-many passages which prove that no idea of the sort was entertained by
-her.
-
-The exertions of the heads of the two families were for long directed
-against the union of the lovers. Mr. Linley felt more forcibly than
-ever that he had had quite enough of the Sheridans, and Tom Sheridan
-doubtless wished never to hear again the name of Linley. The one made
-his daughter promise on her knees to give up Richard Sheridan, and Mr.
-Sheridan compelled his son to forswear any association with Elizabeth
-Linley. Jove must have been convulsed with laughter. Richard Brinsley
-Sheridan and Elizabeth Ann Linley were married on the 13th of April,
-1773.
-
-
-
-
-A MELODRAMA AT COVENT GARDEN
-
-ON an evening in April, 1779, the play, “_Love in a Village_” was being
-performed at Covent Garden Theatre before a large audience. In the front
-row of the boxes sat two ladies, one of them young and handsome, the
-other not so young and not so beautiful--a dark-faced, dark-eyed woman
-whom no one could mistake for any nationality except Italian. Three
-gentlemen who sat behind them were plainly of their party--elegant
-gentlemen of fashion, one of them an Irish peer. Every person of
-quality in the theatre and a good many others without such a claim to
-distinction, were aware of the fact that the most attractive member of
-the group was Miss Reay, a lady whose name had been for several years
-closely associated--very closely indeed--with that of Lord Sandwich,
-the First Lord of the Admiralty, and one of the most unpopular men in
-England. She had driven to the theatre in his lordship's carriage, and
-two of the gentlemen with whom she conversed freely in the box were high
-officials of the department over which his lordship presided.
-
-Almost from the moment of her arrival, Miss Reay and her friends were
-watched eagerly by a hollow-eyed, morose gentleman in black. He looked as
-if he had not slept for many nights; and no one observing him could have
-failed to perceive that he had come to the theatre not for the sake of
-the play which was being performed, but to watch the lady. He kept his
-fierce eyes fixed upon her, and he frowned every time that she turned to
-make a remark to one of her friends; his eyes blazed every time that one
-of her friends smiled over her shoulder, and his hands clenched if she
-smiled in return. Several times it seemed as if he found it impossible
-to remain in his place in the upper side box, where his seat was, for
-he started up and hurried out to the great lobby, walking to and fro in
-great agitation. More than once he strode away from the lobby into the
-Bedford Coffee House just outside the theatre, and there partook of
-brandy and water, returning after brief intervals to stare at Miss Reay
-and her companions in the front row of the boxes.
-
-[Illustration: 0327]
-
-At the conclusion of the play, he went hastily into the vestibule,
-standing to one side, not far from the exit from the boxes; but if he
-intended to be close to Miss Reay while she walked to the main exit, his
-object was defeated by reason of the crush of people congregating in
-the vestibule, the people of quality waiting for their carriages to
-be announced, the others waiting for the satisfaction of being in such
-close proximity to people of quality.
-
-Among the crowd there was a lady who had recently become the wife of a
-curious gentleman named Lewis, who some years later wrote a grisly
-book entitled _The Monk_, bringing him such great fame as cancelled for
-posterity the names of Matthew Gregory, given to him by his parents, and
-caused him to be identified by the name of his book only. This lady made
-a remark to her neighbour in respect of a lovely rose which Miss Reay
-was wearing when she left the box exit and stood in the vestibule--a
-beautiful rose early in the month of April might have excited remark in
-those days; at any rate, Mrs. Lewis has left the record that at the
-very moment of her speaking, the rose fell to the floor, and Miss Reay
-appeared to be profoundly affected by this trifling incident, and said
-in a faltering voice, “I trust that I am not to consider this as an evil
-omen!” So Mrs. Lewis stated.
-
-A few moments later Lord Sandwich's carriage was announced, and Miss
-Reay and her companion made a move in the direction of the door. The
-gentlemen of the party seem to have left earlier, for on the ladies
-being impeded by the crush in the vestibule, a stranger, named Mr.
-Macnamara, of Lincoln's Inn, proffered his services to help them to
-get to the carriage. Miss Reay thanked him, took his arm, and the crowd
-opened for them in some measure. It quickly opened wider under a more
-acute persuasion a few seconds later, when the morose gentleman in black
-pushed his way among the people until he was within a few feet of the
-lady and her escort. Only for a second did he pause--certainly he spoke
-no word to Miss Reay or any one else--before he pulled a pistol from his
-pocket and fired almost point-blank at her before any one could knock up
-his hand. Immediately afterwards he turned a second pistol against his
-own forehead and pulled the trigger, and fell to the ground.
-
-The scene that followed can easily be imagined. Every woman present
-shrieked, except Miss Reay, who was supported by Mr. Macnamara. The
-ghastly effects of the bullet were apparent not only upon the forehead
-of the lady where it lodged, but upon the bespattered garments of every
-one about the door, and upon the columns of the hall. Above the shrieks
-of the terror-stricken people were heard the yells of the murderer,
-who lay on the ground, hammering at his head with the butt end of his
-weapon, and crying, “Kill me! Kill me!”
-
-A Mr. Mahon, of Russell Street, who was said to be an apothecary, was
-the first to lay a hand upon the wretched man. He wrested the pistol
-from his grasp and prevented him from doing further mischief to himself.
-He was quickly handed over to the police, and, with his unfortunate
-victim, was removed to the Shakespeare Tavern, a surgeon named Bond
-being in prompt attendance. It did not take long to find that Miss Reay
-had never breathed after the shot had been fired at her; the bullet had
-smashed the skull and passed through the brain. The man remained for
-some time unconscious, but even before he recovered he was identified as
-James Hackman, a gentleman who had been an officer in the army, and
-on retiring had taken Orders, being admitted a priest of the Church of
-England scarcely a month before his crime. There were rumours respecting
-his infatuation for Miss Reay, and in a surprisingly short space of
-time, owing most likely to the exertions of Signora Galli, the Italian
-whom Lord Sandwich had hired to be her companion, the greater part of
-the romantic story of the wretched man's life, as far as it related to
-Miss Reay, was revealed.
-
-It formed a nine days' wonder during the spring of the same year (1779).
-The grief displayed by Lord Sandwich on being made acquainted with the
-circumstances of the murder was freely commented on, and the sympathy
-which was felt for him may have diminished in some measure from his
-unpopularity. The story told by Croker of the reception of the news by
-Lord Sandwich is certainly not deficient in detail. “He stood as it
-were petrified,” we are told, “till suddenly, seizing a candle, he ran
-upstairs and threw himself on the bed, and in agony exclaimed, 'Leave
-me for a while to myself, I could have borne anything but this!' The
-attendants remained for a considerable time at the top of the staircase,
-till his lordship rang the bell and ordered that they should all go to
-bed.”
-
-Before his lordship left the scene of his grief in the morning Sir John
-Fielding, the Bow Street magistrate, had arrived at the Shakespeare
-Tavern from his house at Brompton, and, after a brief inquiry, ordered
-Hackman to be taken to Tothill Fields Prison. In due course he was
-committed to Newgate, and on April 16th his trial took place before
-Blackstone, the Recorder. The facts of the tragedy were deposed to by
-several witnesses, and the cause of the lady's death was certified by
-Mr. Bond, the surgeon. The prisoner was then called on for his defence.
-He made a brief speech, explaining that he would have pleaded guilty
-at once had he not felt that doing so “would give an indication of
-contemning death, not suitable to my present condition, and would in
-some measure make me accessory to a second peril of my life. And I
-likewise thought,” he added, “that the justice of my country ought to
-be satisfied by suffering my offence to be proved, and the fact to be
-established by evidence.”
-
-This curious affectation of a finer perception of the balance of justice
-than is possessed by most men was quite characteristic of this man, as
-was also his subsequent expression of his willingness to submit to the
-sentence of the court. His counsel endeavoured to show that he had
-been insane from the moment of his purchasing his pistols until he had
-committed the deed for which he was being tried--he did not say anything
-about “a wave of insanity,” however, though that picturesque phrase
-would have aptly described the nature of his plea. He argued that a
-letter which was found in the prisoner's pocket, and in which suicide
-only was threatened, should be accepted as proof that he had no
-intention of killing Miss Reay when he went to the theatre.
-
-The Recorder, of course, made short work of such a plea. He explained to
-the jury that “for a plea of insanity to be successful it must be shown
-not merely that it was a matter of fits and starts, but that it was
-a definite thing--a total loss of reason and incapability of reason.”
- Referring to the letter, he said that it seemed to him to argue a
-coolness and premeditation incompatible with such insanity as he
-described.
-
-The result was, as might have been anticipated, the jury, without
-leaving the box, found Hackman guilty, and he was sentenced to be
-hanged.
-
-Mr. Boswell, who was nearly as fond of hearing death-sentences
-pronounced as he was of seeing them carried out, was present in the
-court during the trial, and to him Mr. Booth, the brother-in-law of the
-prisoner, applied--he himself had been too greatly agitated to be able
-to remain in the court--for information as to how Hackman had deported
-himself, and Boswell was able to assure him that he had behaved “as
-well, sir, as you or any of his friends could wish; with decency,
-propriety, and in such a manner as to interest every one present. He
-might have pleaded that he shot Miss Reay by accident, but he fairly
-told the truth that in a moment of frenzy he did intend it.”
-
-While he was in the condemned cell at Newgate he received a message from
-Lord Sandwich to the effect that if he wished for his life, he (Lord
-Sandwich) had influence with the King, and might succeed in obtaining
-a commutation of his sentence. Hackman replied that he had no wish to
-live, but he implored his lordship to give him such assurance that those
-whom Miss Reay had left behind her would be carefully looked after, as
-would, on meeting her in another world, enable him to make this pleasing
-communication to her.
-
-He spent the few days that remained to him in writing fervid letters to
-his friends and in penning moralisings, in a style which was just the
-smallest degree more pronounced than that which was fashionable at his
-period--the style of the sentimental hero of Richardson and his inferior
-followers.
-
-His execution at Tyburn attracted the most enormous crowds ever seen
-upon such an occasion. The carriage in which the wretched man was
-conveyed to the gibbet could only proceed at a walking pace; but still,
-the vehicle which followed it, containing the Earl of Carlisle and
-James Boswell, arrived in good time for the final scene of this singular
-tragedy, which for weeks, as the Countess of Ossory wrote to George
-Selwyn, was the sole topic of conversation.
-
-And, as a matter of course, Horace Walpole had something to communicate
-to one of his carefully-selected correspondents. Oddly enough it was
-to a parson he wrote to express the opinion that he was still uncertain
-“whether our clergy are growing Mahometans or not”; adding sagely, “they
-certainly are not what they profess themselves; but as you and I should
-not agree, perhaps, in assigning the same defects to them, I will not
-enter on a subject which I have promised you to drop, all I allude to
-now is the shocking murder of Miss Reay by a divine. In my own opinion
-we are growing more fit for Bedlam than for Mahomet's paradise. The poor
-criminal, I am persuaded, is mad, and the misfortune is the law does
-not know how to define the shades of madness; and thus there are twenty
-out-pensioners of Bedlam for one that is confined.”
-
-Most persons will come to the conclusion that the judge who tried
-Hackman made a most successful attempt to expound to the jury exactly
-where the law drew a line in differentiating between the man who should
-be sent to Bedlam and the man who should be sent to Tyburn, and will
-agree with the justice of the law that condemned to the gallows this
-divine of three weeks' standing for committing an atrocious crime, even
-though the chances are that Hackman spoke the truth when he affirmed
-that he had brought his pistols down to the theatre with no more
-felonious intent than to blow out his own brains in the presence of the
-lady and to fall dead at her feet. At the same time one is not precluded
-from agreeing with Walpole's opinion that the people of his period were
-growing more fit for Bedlam than for Eblis.
-
-The truth is that an extraordinary wave of what was called
-“sensibility” was passing over England at that time. It was a wave of
-sentimentality--that maudlin sentimentality which was the exquisite
-characteristic of the hero and heroine of almost every novel that
-attained to any degree of success. To people who have formed their ideas
-of the latter half of the eighteenth century from studying Boswell's
-_Life of Johnson_, every page of which shows a healthy common sense;
-or from the plates of Hogarth--robust even to a point of vulgarity--it
-would seem incredible that there should exist in England at practically
-the same time a cult of the maudlin and the lachrymose. Such a cult had,
-however, obtained so great a hold on a large section of society that all
-the satire of Smollett, Sterne, and Goldsmith, was unable to ridicule it
-out of existence.
-
-And the worst of the matter was that the types of these weeping
-sentimentalists were not unreal. They began by being unreal, but in the
-course of a short time they became real, the fact being that people in
-all directions began to frame their conduct and their conversation upon
-these flaccid creatures of the unhealthy fancy of third-rate novelists
-and fourth-rate poetasters. More than once, it may be remarked, even
-in our own time “movements” have had their origin in the fancy of a
-painter--in one case of a subtle caricaturist. An artist possessed of
-a distorted sense of what is beautiful in woman has been able to set
-a certain fashion in the unreal, until people were well-nigh persuaded
-that it was the painter who had taken the figures in his pictures from
-the persons who had simply sought a cheap notoriety by adopting the
-pose and the dress of the scraggy posturantes for whose anatomy he was
-responsible.
-
-So it was that, when certain novel-writers in the eighteenth century,
-having no experience of the life which they attempted to depict, brought
-forth creatures out of their own unhealthy imaginations, and placed them
-before their readers as types of heroes and heroines, the public never
-failed to include quite a number of readers who were ready to live up to
-all those essentials that constituted the personages of the fiction.
-
-And not alone over England had the sighs of a perpetually sighing hero
-and heroine sent a lachrymose flood; France and Germany, if not actually
-inundated, were at least rendered humid by its influence. _The Sorrows
-of Werther_ was only one of the many books which helped on the cult of
-the sentimental, and it was as widely read in England as in Germany.
-Gessner's _Death of Abel_ had an enormous vogue in its English
-translation. The boarding-school version of the tale of Abelard and
-Heloise was also much wept over both in France and Germany; and the
-true story of James Hackman and Martha Reay, as recorded by the
-correspondence of the pair, published shortly after the last scene in
-the tragedy had been enacted, and reissued with connecting notes some
-twelve years ago, might pass only as a somewhat crude attempt to surpass
-these masterpieces of fancy-woven woes. James and Martha might have been
-as happy as thousands of other Jameses and Marthas have been, but they
-chose to believe that the Fates were bothering themselves with this
-particular case of James and Martha--they chose to feel that they were
-doomed to a life of sorrowful love--at any rate, this was Martha's
-notion--and they kept on exchanging emotional sentiments until James's
-poor head gave way, and he sought to end up their romance in accordance
-with the mode of the best models, stretching himself a pallid corpse at
-the feet of his Martha; but then it was that Fate put out a meddlesome
-finger, and so caused the scene of the last chapter to take place at
-Tyburn.
-
-The romance of Mr. Hackman and Miss Reay would never have taken place,
-if Lord Sandwich had been as exemplary a husband as George III or Dr.
-Johnson or Edmund Burke--the only exemplary husbands of the eighteenth
-century that one can recall at a moment's notice. Unhappily his lordship
-was one of the many examples of the unexemplary husband of that period.
-If the Earl of Chesterfield advanced the ill-treatment of a wife to one
-of the fine arts, it may be said that the Earl of Sandwich made it one
-of the coarse. He was brutal in his treatment of the Countess, and never
-more so than when he purchased the pretty child that Miss Reay must have
-been at the age of thirteen, and had her educated to suit his tastes.
-He went about the transaction with the same deliberation as a gourmand
-might display in ordering his dinner. He was extremely fond of music,
-so he had the child's education in this direction carefully attended
-to. His place at Hinchinbrook had been the scene of the performance of
-several oratorios, his lordship taking his place in the orchestra at the
-kettledrums; and he hoped that by the time he should have his purchase
-sent home, her voice would be equal to the demands put upon it by the
-most exacting of the sacred soprano music of Handel or Gluck.
-
-As it turned out he was not disappointed. Martha Reay, when she went to
-live at Hinchinbrook at the age of eighteen, showed herself to be a most
-accomplished young lady, as she certainly was a very charming one. She
-was found to possess a lovely voice, and was quite fitted to take
-her place, not merely in his lordship's music-room, but also in his
-drawing-room to which he advanced her. To say that she was treated as
-one of his lordship's family would be to convey a wrong impression,
-considering how he treated the principal member of his family, but
-certainly he introduced her to his guests, and she took her place at his
-table at dinner parties. He even put her next to the wife of a bishop
-upon one occasion, feeling sure that she would captivate that lady,
-and as it turned out, his anticipations were fully realised; only the
-bishop's lady, on making inquiries later on, protested that she was
-scandalised by being placed in such a position as permitted of her
-yielding to the fascinations of a young person occupying a somewhat
-equivocal position in the household.
-
-It was when she was at Hinchinbrook, in October, 1775, that Miss Reay
-met the man who was to play so important a part in her life--and death.
-Cradock, the “country gentleman,” tells in his _Memoirs_ the story of
-the first meeting of the two. Lord Sandwich was anxious that a friend of
-his own should be elected to a professorship at Cambridge, and Cradock,
-having a vote, was invited to use it on behalf of his lordship's
-candidate, and to stay for a night at Hinchinbrook on his way back to
-London. He travelled in Lord Sandwich's coach, and when in the act of
-driving through the gateway at Hinchinbrook, it overtook a certain Major
-Reynolds and another officer who was stationed on recruiting duty in the
-neighbourhood. Lord Sandwich, being acquainted with Reynolds, dismounted
-and invited him and his friend to a family dinner at his lordship's
-place that evening. Major Reynolds expressed his appreciation of this
-act of courtesy, and introduced his friend as Captain Hackman. The party
-was a simple affair.
-
-It consisted of Lord Sandwich, Miss Reay, another lady, the two
-officers, and Mr. Cradock. After coffee had been served two rubbers of
-whist were played, and the party broke up.
-
-This was the first meeting of Hackman and Miss Reay. They seem to have
-fallen in love immediately, each with the other, for the first letter in
-the correspondence, written in December, 1775, contains a good deal that
-suggests the adolescence of a passion. Hackman was a man of education and
-some culture, and he showed few signs of developing into that maudlin
-sentimentalist who corresponded with the lady a year or two later. He
-was but twenty-three years of age, the son of a retired officer in the
-navy, who had sent him to St. John's College, Cambridge, and afterwards
-bought him a commission in the 68th Foot. He was probably only an
-ensign when he was stationed at Huntingdon, but being in charge of the
-recruiting party, enjoyed the temporary rank of captain.
-
-He must have had a pretty fair conceit of his own ability as a
-correspondent, for he kept a copy of his love letters. Of course, there
-is no means of ascertaining if he kept copies of all that he ever wrote;
-he may have sent off some in the hot passion of the moment, but those
-which passed into the hands of his brother-in-law and were afterwards
-published, were copies which he had retained. Miss Reay was doubtless
-discreet enough to destroy the originals before they had a chance of
-falling into the hands of Lord Sandwich. It is difficult for us who
-live in this age of scrawls and “correspondence cards” to imagine the
-existence of that enormous army of letter-writers who flourished
-their quills in the eighteenth century, for the entertainment of their
-descendants in the nineteenth and twentieth; but still more difficult
-is it to understand how, before the invention of any mechanical means
-of reproducing manuscript, these voluminous correspondents first made
-a rough draft of every letter, then corrected and afterwards copied
-it, before sending it--securing a frank from a friendly Member of
-Parliament--to its destination.
-
-Superlatively difficult is it to imagine an ardent lover sitting down to
-transcribe into the pages of a notebook the outpourings of his passion.
-But this is what Ensign Hackman did, although so far as the consequences
-of his love-making were concerned, he is deserving of a far higher place
-among great lovers than Charlotte's Werther, or Mr. Swinburne's Dolores.
-Charlotte we know “went on cutting bread and butter” after the death of
-her honourable lover; but poor little Miss Reay was the victim of the
-passion which she undoubtedly fanned into a flame of madness. Ensign
-Hackman made copies of his love-letters, and we are grateful to him, for
-by their aid we can perceive the progress of his disease. They are
-like the successive pictures in a biograph series lately exhibited at a
-conversazione of the Royal Society, showing the development of a blossom
-into a perfect flower. We see by the aid of these letters how he gave
-way under the attack of what we should now call the bacillus of that
-maudlin sentimentality which was in the air in his day.
-
-He began his love-letters like a gallant officer, but ended them in the
-strain of the distracted curate who had been jilted just when he has
-laid down the cork lino in the new study and got rid of the plumbers. He
-wrote merrily of his “Corporal Trim,” who was the bearer of a “billet”
- from her. “He will be as good a soldier to Cupid as to Mars, I dare say.
-And Mars and Cupid are not now to begin their acquaintance, you know.”
- Then he goes on to talk in a fine soldierly strain of the drum “beating
-for volunteers to Bacchus. In plain English, the drum tells me dinner is
-ready, for a drum gives us bloody-minded heroes an appetite for eating
-as well as for fighting.... Adieu--whatever hard service I may have
-after dinner, no quantity of wine shall make me let drop or forget my
-appointment with you tomorrow. We certainly were not seen yesterday, for
-reasons I will give you.”
-
-This letter was written on December 7th, and it was followed by another
-the next day, and a still longer one the day following. In fact,
-Corporal Trim must have been kept as busy as his original in the service
-of Uncle Toby, during the month of December, his duty being to receive
-the lady's letters, as well as to deliver the gentleman's, and he seems
-to have been equally a pattern of fidelity.
-
-Hackman's letters at this time were models of good taste, with only
-the smallest amount of swagger in them. His intentions were strictly
-honourable, and they were not concealed within any cocoon of sentimental
-phraseology. One gathers from his first letters that he was a simple and
-straightforward gentleman, who, having fallen pretty deeply in love
-with a young woman, seeks to make her his wife at the earliest possible
-moment. Unfortunately however, the lady had fallen under the influence
-of the prevailing affectation, and her scheme of life did not include a
-commonplace marriage with a subaltern in a marching regiment. One might
-be disposed to say that she knew when she was well off. The aspiration
-to be made “a respectable woman” by marriage in a church was not
-sufficiently strong in her to compel her to sacrifice the many good
-things with which she was surrounded, in order to realise it. But, of
-course, she was ready to pose as a miserable woman, linked to a man
-whom she did not love, but too honourable to leave him, and far too
-thoughtful for the career of the man whom she did love with all her soul
-ever to become a burden to him. She had read the ballad of “Auld Robin
-Gray”--she quoted it in full in one of her letters--and she was greatly
-interested to find how closely her case resembled that of the wife in
-the poem. She had brought herself to think of the man who had bought her
-just as he would buy a peach tree, or a new tulip, as her “benefactor.”
- Did she not owe to him the blessing of a good education, and the culture
-of her voice, her knowledge of painting--nay, her “keep” for several
-years, and her introduction to the people of quality who visited at
-Hinchinbrook and at the Admiralty? She seemed to think it impossible
-for any one to doubt that Lord Sandwich had acted toward her with
-extraordinary generosity, and that she would be showing the most
-contemptible ingratitude were she to forsake so noble a benefactor. But
-all the same she found Hinchinbrook intolerably dull at times, and she
-was so pleased at the prospect of having a lover, that she came to fancy
-that she loved the first one who turned up.
-
-She was undoubtedly greatly impressed by the ballad of “Auld Robin
-Gray,” and she at once accepted the rôle of the unhappy wife, only she
-found it convenient to modify one rather important line--
-
-“I fain would think o' Jamie, but that would be a sin.”
-
-She was fain to think on her Jamie whether it was a sin or not, but she
-did so without having the smallest intention of leaving her Auld Robin
-Gray. So whimsical an interpretation of the poem could scarcely occur
-to any one not under the influence of the sentimental malady of the day;
-but it served both for Miss Reay and her Jamie. They accepted it, and
-became deeply sensible of its pathos as applied to themselves. Ensign
-Hackman assured her that he was too high-minded to dream of making love
-to her under the roof of Lord Sandwich, her “benefactor.”
-
-“Our love, the inexorable tyrant of our hearts,” he wrote, “claims his
-sacrifices, but does not bid us insult his lordship's walls with it.
-How civilly did he invite me to Hinchinbrook in October last, though an
-unknown recruiting officer. How politely himself first introduced me to
-himself! Often has the recollection made me struggle with my passion.
-Still it shall restrain it on this side honour.”
-
-This was in reply to her remonstrance, and probably she regretted that
-she had been so strenuous in pointing out to him how dreadful it would
-be were she to show herself wanting in gratitude to Lord Sandwich. She
-wanted to play the part of Jenny, the lawful wife of Robin Gray, with
-as few sacrifices as possible, and she had no idea of sacrificing
-young Jamie, the lover, any more than she had of relinquishing the many
-privileges she enjoyed at Hinchinbrook by making Jamie the lover into
-Jamie the husband.
-
-It is very curious to find Hackman protesting to her all this time that
-his passions are “wild as the torrent's roar,” apologising for making
-his simile water when the element most congenial to his nature was fire.
-“Swift had water in his brain. I have a burning coal of fire; your hand
-can light it up to rapture, rage, or madness. Men, real men, have never
-been wild enough for my admiration, it has wandered into the ideal world
-of fancy. Othello (but he should have put himself to death in his wife's
-sight, not his wife), Zanga are my heroes. Milk-and-water passions are
-like sentimental comedy.”
-
-Read in the light of future events this letter has a peculiar
-significance. Although he became more sentimental than the hero of any
-of the comedies at which he was sneering, he was still able to make an
-honest attempt to act up to his ideal of Othello. “_He should have put
-himself to death in his wife's sight_.” It will be remembered that he
-pleaded at his trial that he had no design upon the life of Miss Reay,
-but only aimed at throwing himself dead at her feet.
-
-Equally significant are some of the passages in the next letters which
-he wrote to her. They show that even within the first month of his
-acquaintance with his Martha his mind had a peculiar bent. He was giving
-his attention to Hervey's _Meditations_, and takes pains to point out to
-her two passages which he affirms to be as fine as they are natural. Did
-ever love-letter contain anything so grisly? “A beam or two finds its
-way through the grates (of the vault), and reflects a feeble glimness
-from the nails of the coffins.” This is one passage--ghastly enough
-in all conscience. But it is surpassed by the others which he quotes:
-“Should the haggard skeleton lift a clattering hand.” Respecting the
-latter he remarks, “I know not whether the epithet 'haggard' might
-not be spared.” It is possible that the lady on receiving this curious
-love-letter was under the impression that the whole passage might have
-been spared her.
-
-But he seems to have been supping off horrors at this time, for he goes
-on to tell a revolting story about the black hole of Calcutta; and then
-he returns with zest to his former theme of murder and suicide. He had
-been reading the poem of “Faldoni and Teresa,” by Jerningham, and he
-criticises it quite admirably. “The melancholy tale will not take up
-three words, though Mr. J. has bestowed upon it 335 melancholy lines,”
- he tells the young lady. “Two lovers, meeting with an invincible
-object to their union, determined to put an end to their existence
-with pistols. The place they chose for the execution of their terrible
-project was a chapel that stood at a little distance from the house.
-They even decorated the altar for the occasion, they paid a particular
-attention to their own dress. Teresa was dressed in white with
-rose-coloured ribbands. The same coloured ribbands were tied to the
-pistols. Each held the ribband that was fastened to the other's trigger,
-which they drew at a certain signal.” His criticism of the poem includes
-the remark that Faldoni and Teresa might be prevented from making
-proselytes by working up their affecting story so as to take off the
-edge of the dangerous example they offer. This, he says, the author has
-failed to do, and he certainly proves his point later by affirming that
-“while I talk of taking off the dangerous edge of their example, they
-have almost listed me under their bloody banners.”
-
-This shows the morbid tendency of the man's mind, though it must be
-confessed that nearly all the remarks which he makes on ordinary topics
-are eminently sane and well considered.
-
-A few days later we find him entering with enthusiasm into a scheme,
-suggested by her, of meeting while she was on her way to London, and it
-is plain from the rapturous letter which he wrote to her that their plot
-was successful; but when she reached town she had a great deal to occupy
-her, so that it is not strange she should neglect him for a time. The
-fact was, as Cradock states in his _Memoirs_, that the unpopularity of
-Lord Sandwich and Miss Reay had increased during the winter to such a
-point that it became dangerous for them to show themselves together in
-public. Ribald ballads were sung under the windows of the Admiralty, and
-Cradock more than once heard some strange insults shouted out by
-people in the park. It was at this time that she spoke to Cradock about
-appearing in opera, and he states that it reached his ears that she had
-been offered three thousand pounds and a free benefit (a possible extra
-five hundred) for one season's performances.
-
-Now if she had really been in love with Hackman this was surely the
-moment when she should have gone to him, suffered him to marry her, and
-thus made up by a few years on the lyric stage for any deficiency in his
-fortune or for the forfeiture of any settlement her “benefactor” might
-have been disposed to make in her favour. But she seems to have shown a
-remarkable amount of prudence throughout the whole of her intrigue, and
-she certainly had a premonition of the danger to which she was exposed
-by her connection with him. “Fate stands between us,” she wrote in
-reply to one of his impetuous upbraiding letters. “We are doomed to be
-wretched. And I, every now and then, think some terrible catastrophe
-will be the result of our connection. 'Some dire event,' as Storge
-prophetically says in _Jephtha_, 'hangs over our heads.' Oh, that it
-were no crime to quit this world like Faldoni and Teresa... by your hand
-I could even die with pleasure. I know I could.”
-
-An extraordinary premonition, beyond doubt, to write thus, and one is
-tempted to believe that she had ceased for a moment merely to play the
-part of the afflicted heroine. But her allusion to Jephtha and, later in
-the same letter, to a vow which she said she had made never to marry
-him so long as she was encumbered with debts, alleging that this was
-the “insuperable reason” at which she had hinted on a previous occasion,
-makes one suspicious. One feels that if she had not been practising the
-music of _Jephtha_ she would not have thought about her vow not to marry
-him until she could go to him free from debt. Why, she had only to sing
-three times to release herself from that burden.
-
-Some time afterwards she seems to have suggested such a way of getting
-over her difficulties, but it is pretty certain she knew that he would
-never listen to her. Her position at this time was undoubtedly one
-of great difficulty. Hackman was writing to her almost every day, and
-becoming more high-minded and imperious in every communication, and she
-was in terror lest some of his letters should fall into the hands of
-Lord Sandwich. She was ready to testify to his lordship's generosity in
-educating her to suit his own tastes, but she suspected its strength to
-withstand such a strain as would be put on it if he came upon one of Mr.
-Hackman's impetuous letters.
-
-She thought that when she had induced her lover to join his regiment
-in Ireland she had extricated herself from one of the difficulties that
-surrounded her; and had she been strong enough to refrain from
-writing to the man, she might have been saved from the result of her
-indiscretion. Unhappily for herself, however, she felt it incumbent on
-her to resume her correspondence with him. Upon one occasion she sent
-him a bank-note for fifty pounds, but this he promptly returned with
-a very proper letter. Indeed, all his letters from Ireland are
-interesting, being far less impassioned than those which she wrote to
-him. Again she mentioned having read _Werther_, and he promptly begged
-of her to send the book to him. “If you do not,” he adds, “I positively
-never will forgive you. Nonsense, to say it will make me unhappy, or
-that I shall not be able to read it! Must I pistol myself because a
-thick-blooded German has been fool enough to set the example, or because
-a German novelist has feigned such a story?”
-
-But it would appear that she knew the man's nature better than he
-himself did, for she quickly replied: “The book you mention is just the
-only book you should never read. On my knees I beg that you will never,
-never read it!” But if he never read _Werther_ he was never without some
-story of the same type to console him for its absence, and he seems to
-have gloated over the telling of all to her. One day he is giving her
-the particulars of a woman who committed suicide in Enniskillen because
-she married one man while she was in love with another. His comment is,
-“She, too, was _Jenny_ and had her _Robin Gray_.” His last letter from
-Ireland was equally morbid. In it he avowed his intention, if he were
-not granted leave of absence for the purpose of visiting her, of selling
-out of his regiment. He kept his promise but too faithfully. He sold out
-and crossed to England without delay, arriving in London only to find
-Miss Reay extremely ill.
-
-His attempts to cheer her convalescence cannot possibly be thought very
-happy. He describes his attendance upon the occasion of the hanging of
-Dr. Dodd, the clergyman who had committed forgery; and this reminds
-him that he was unfortunately out of England when one Peter Tolosa was
-hanged for killing his sweetheart, so that he had no chance of taking
-part in this ceremony as well, although, he says, unlike George
-S.--meaning Selwyn--he does not make a profession of attending
-executions; adding that “the friend and historian of Paoli hired a
-window by the year, looking out on the Grass Market in Edinburgh,
-where malefactors were hanged.” This reference to Boswell is somewhat
-sinister. All this letter is devoted to a minute account of the
-execution of Dodd, and another deals with the revolting story of the
-butchery of Monmouth, which he suggests to her as an appropriate subject
-for a picture.
-
-At this time he was preparing for ordination, and, incidentally, for
-the culmination of the tragedy of his life. He had undoubtedly become a
-monomaniac, his “subject” being murder and suicide. His last lurid story
-was of a footman who, “having in vain courted for some time a servant
-belonging to Lord Spencer, at last caused the banns to be put up at
-church without her consent, which she forbad. Being thus disappointed
-he meditated revenge, and, having got a person to write a letter to her
-appointing a meeting, he contrived to waylay her, and surprise her in
-Lord Spencer's park. On her screaming he discharged a pistol at her and
-made his escape.”
-
-“Oh love, love, canst thou not be content to make fools of thy slaves,”
- he wrote, “to make them miserable, to make them what thou pleasest? Must
-thou also goad them on to crimes?”
-
-Only two more letters did he write to his victim. He took Orders and
-received the living of Wiveton, in Norfolk, seeming to take it for
-granted that, in spite of her repeated refusals to marry him, she
-would relent when she heard of the snug parsonage. This was acting on
-precisely the same lines as the butler of whom he wrote. When he found
-that Miss Reay was determined to play the part taken by the servant in
-the same story, the wretched man hurried up to London and bought his
-pistols.
-
-The whole story is a pitiful one. That the man was mad no one except a
-judge and jury could doubt. That his victim was amply punished for her
-indiscretion in leading him on even the strictest censor of conduct must
-allow.
-
-
-
-
-THE COMEDY AT DOWNING STREET
-
-IT was possibly because she was still conscious of having occupied the
-commanding position of one of the royal bridesmaids, in spite of the
-two years that had elapsed since King George III married his homely
-Mecklenburg princess, that Lady Susan Fox-Strangways, the daughter of
-the first Earl of Ilchester, became so autocratic during the rehearsal
-of the Downing Street Comedy. A pretty fair amount of comedy as well
-as tragedy--with a preponderance of farce--has been played in the same
-street from time to time, but the special piece in which Lady Susan
-was interesting herself was to be played at the house of Sir Francis
-Délavai, and its name was _The School for Lovers_. It had been
-originally produced by Mr. David Garrick at Drury Lane Theatre, an
-occasion upon which a young Irish gentleman called O'Brien, who had
-disgraced himself by becoming an actor, had attained great distinction.
-The piece had drawn the town during its protracted run of eight nights,
-and Sir Francis Delaval's company of amateurs perceived that it was just
-the play for them. It was said by the critics that, for the first time
-for many years, an actor had been found capable of playing the part of
-a gentleman of fashion as if to the manner born. They referred to the
-acting of Mr. O'Brien, about whose gentlemanly qualities there could
-be no doubt. Even his own brother actors affirmed that no such perfect
-gentleman as that of O'Brien's creating had ever been seen on the stage.
-So said Lee Lewes. Another excellent judge, named Oliver Goldsmith,
-declared that William O'Brien was an elegant and accomplished actor.
-
-Of course this was the character, every aspiring amateur affirmed, to
-which a gentleman-born would do ample justice. When O'Brien, who was an
-actor, had represented the part with distinction, how much better
-would it not be played by the real thing--the real gentleman who might
-undertake it?
-
-That was the very plausible reasoning of the “real gentleman” who hoped
-to win applause by appearing in O'Brien's part in the comedy at Downing
-Street. But when the piece was rehearsed with the young Viscount
-B-------- in the character, Lady Susan threw up her hands, and
-threatened to throw up her part as well.
-
-“Lud!” she cried to her associates in the temporary green-room, “Lud!
-you would fancy that he had never seen a gentleman of fashion in his
-life! Why cannot he act himself instead of somebody else? When he comes
-from rehearsal he is the very character itself, but the moment he begins
-to speak his part he is no more the part than the link-boy.”
-
-Every one present agreed with her--the young gentlemen who were anxious
-to have the reversion of the part were especially hearty in their
-acquiescence.
-
-But there could be no doubt about the matter, Lord B------ was
-deplorably incompetent. He was not even consistently incompetent, for
-in one scene in the second act, where there was an element of boisterous
-humour, he was tame and spiritless; but in the love-making scene, which
-brought the third act to a close, he was awkward, and so anxious to show
-his spirit that he became as vulgar as any country clown making advances
-to his Meg or Polly.
-
-And of course he felt all the time that he was doing amazingly well.
-
-Lady Susan was angry at first, and then she became witty. Her sallies,
-directed against him in every scene, were, however, lost upon him, no
-matter how calculated they were to sting him; he was too self-satisfied
-to be affected by any criticism that might be offered to him by man or
-woman.
-
-And then Lady Susan was compelled to abandon her wit and to become
-natural. She flounced off the stage when her lover (in the play) was
-more than commonly loutish, and burst into tears of vexation in the arms
-of her dear friend Lady Sarah Lennox.
-
-“I never had such a chance until now,” she cried. “Never, oh, never!
-The part might have been written for me; and I implore of you, Sarah, to
-tell me candidly if Mrs. Abington or Mrs. Clive could act it with more
-sprightliness than I have shown in that last scene?”
-
-“Impossible, my sweet Sue!” cried her friend. “I vow that I have never
-seen anything more arch than your mock rejection of your lover, only to
-draw him on.”
-
-“You dear creature!” cried Lady Sue. “You are a true friend and a
-competent critic, Sarah. But what signifies my acting, perfect though
-it be, when that--that idiot fails to respond in any way to the spirit
-which I display? The whole play will be damned, and people who know
-nothing of the matter will spread the report that 'twas my lack of power
-that brought about the disaster.”
-
-“They cannot be so vile,” said Lady Sarah soothingly.
-
-“But they will. I know how vile some of our friends can be when it suits
-them, and when they are jealous of the acquirements of another. They
-will sneer at my best scenes--oh, the certainty that they will do so
-will be enough to make my best scenes fail. But no! they shall not have
-the chance of maligning me. I will go to Sir Francis and resign my part.
-Yes, I will! I tell you I shall!”
-
-The indignant young lady, with something of the stage atmosphere still
-clinging to her, flung herself with the gesture of a tortured heroine,
-proud and passionate, toward the door of the room to which the two
-ladies had retired. But before she had her fingers on the handle the
-door opened and Sir Francis Délavai entered.
-
-“A thousand pardons, my dear ladies,” he cried, bowing to the carpet. “I
-had forgot for the moment that when a man turns his house into a theatre
-he can call no room in it his own. But I should be a churl to suggest
-that any room in my poor house would not be made beautiful by the
-presence of your ladyships. After all, this is only my library, and a
-library is only a polite name for a dormitory, and a--but what is this?
-I said not a lacrymatory.”
-
-He was looking curiously into Lady Susan's face, which retained the
-marks of her recent tears.
-
-“Dear Sir Francis, you have come in good time,” said Lady Sarah boldly.
-“Here is this poor child weeping her heart out because she is condemned
-to play the part of--of what's her name?--the lady in the play who had
-to make love to an ass?”
-
-“Oh, sir, mine is a far worse plight,” said Lady Susan, pouting. “It
-were bad enough for one to have to make love to an ass, but how much
-worse is't not for one to be made love to by--by--my Lord B------?”
-
-“That were a calculation far above my powers,” said Sir Francis. “My
-lord has never made love to me, but if rumour and the gossip at White's
-speak even a soupçon of truth, his lordship is well practised in the
-art--if love-making is an art.”
-
-“Sir, 'tis a combination of all the arts,” said Lady Susan; “and yet
-my lord cannot simulate the least of them, which is that of being a
-gentleman, when he makes love to me on the stage, through the character
-of Captain Bellaire in our play.”
-
-“To be plain, Sir Francis,” said Lady Sarah, as though the other had not
-been plain enough in her explanation, “To be plain, Lady Susan,
-rather than be associated in any measure with such a failure as your
-theatricals are bound to be if my Lord B------ remains in the part of
-her lover, has made up her mind to relinquish her part. But believe me,
-sir, she does so with deep regret.”
-
-“Hence these tears,” said Sir Francis. “My poor child, you are indeed in
-a pitiable state if you are so deeply chagrined at a clumsy love-making
-merely on the stage.”
-
-“Merely on the stage?” cried Lady Susan. “Lud, Sir Francis, have you not
-the wit to see that to be made love to indifferently on the stage is far
-more unendurable than it would be in private, since in the one case you
-have the eyes of all the people upon you, whereas in the other case you
-are as a rule alone?”
-
-“As a rule,” said Sir Francis. “Yes, I perceive the difference, and I
-mingle mine own turgid tears with your limpid drops. But we cannot spare
-you from our play.”
-
-“No, you cannot, Sir Francis, but you can spare Lord B------, and so can
-the play,” suggested Lady Sarah.
-
-“What, you would have me turn him out of the part?” said Sir Francis.
-
-“Even so--but with politeness,” said Lady Sarah.
-
-“Perhaps your ladyship has solved the problem how to kick a man out of
-your house politely. If so, I would willingly pay you for the recipe; I
-have been in search of it all my life,” said Sir Francis.
-
-“Surely, sir, if you kick a man hard enough with your slippers on he
-will leave your house as surely as if you wear the boots of a Life
-Guardsman,” said Lady Susan timidly.
-
-“I doubt it not, madam; but before trying such an experiment it would be
-well to make sure that the fellow does not wear boots himself.”
-
-“Psha! Sir Francis. If a man were to beg leave to measure the thickness
-of his enemy's soles before offering to kick him there would be very few
-cases of assault and battery,” cried Lady Susan.
-
-“That is good philosophy--see what we have come to--philosophy, when we
-started talking of lovemaking,” said Sir Francis.
-
-“However we have digressed in conversation, sir, our minds remain
-steadfast on the point round which we have been circling,” said Lady
-Sarah.
-
-“And that is------”
-
-“That Lord B------must go.”
-
-The door was thrown open and Lord B------ entered.
-
-“A good preliminary--one must come before one goes,” whispered Sir
-Francis to the ladies.
-
-His lordship was evidently perturbed. He scarcely bowed either to Sir
-Francis or the ladies.
-
-“I was told that you had come hither, Sir Francis,” he said, “so I
-followed you.”
-
-“You do me honour, my lord,” said Sir Francis.
-
-“I took a liberty, sir; but this is not a time for punctilio. I have
-come to resign my part in your play, sir,” said his lordship.
-
-“Oh, surely not, my lord,” cried Sir Francis. “What would the _School
-for Lovers_ be without Bellaire, my lord? Why only now Lady Susan was
-saying--what is it that your ladyship said?”
-
-“It had something to do with philosophy and the sole of a grenadier,”
- said Lady Sarah interposing.
-
-“Nay, was it not that his lordship's impersonation made you think of
-a scene from _Midsummer Night's Dream?_” said Sir Francis. “One of
-the most beautiful of Shakespeare's plays, is't not, my lord?--fantasy
-mingled with irony, an oasis of fairyland in the midst of a desert of
-daily life.”
-
-“I know nothing about your fairyland, sir, but I have been told
-within the hour that her ladyship”--he bowed in the direction of Lady
-Susan--“has, during the three rehearsals which we have had of the play,
-been sneering in a covert way at my acting of the part of Bellaire,
-although to my face she seemed delighted, and thus----”
-
-“Are you sure that your informant was right in his interpretation of her
-ladyship's words? Surely your lordship--a man of the world--would have
-been sensible of every shade of her ladyship's meaning?”
-
-“I have been told by one on whose judgment I can rely that Lady Susan
-was speaking in sarcasm when she complimented me before the rest of the
-company. I did not take her as doing so for myself, I must confess. I
-have always believed--on insufficient evidence, I begin to fear--that
-her ladyship was a discriminating critic--even now if she were to assure
-me that she was not speaking in sarcasm----”
-
-“Oh, lud! he is relenting,” whispered Lady Sarah.
-
-“Did you speak, madam?” said his lordship.
-
-“I was protesting against a too early exercise of your lordship's
-well-known spirit of forgiveness,” said her ladyship.
-
-“I thank you, Lady Sarah; I am, I know, too greatly inclined to take a
-charitable view of--of--Why, sink me if she, too, is not trying to
-make me look ridiculous!” cried his lordship.
-
-“Nay, my lord, I cannot believe that Lady Sarah would be at the pains to
-do for you what you can so well do for yourself,” remarked Lady Susan.
-
-His lordship looked at her--his mouth was slightly open--then he gazed
-at the smiling features of the beautiful Lady Sarah, lastly at the
-perfectly expressionless features of Sir Francis.
-
-“A plot--a plot!” he murmured. Then he struck a commonplace theatrical
-attitude, the “exit attitude” of the man who tells you that his time
-will come, though appearances are against him for the moment. He pointed
-a firm forefinger at Lady Susan, saying: “I wash my hands clear of you
-all. I have done with you and your plays. Get another man to fill my
-place if you can.”
-
-Then he rushed out through the open door. He seemed to have a shrewd
-suspicion that if he were to wait another moment one at least of the
-girls would have an effective answer to his challenge, and it is quite
-likely that his suspicion was well founded. As it was, however, owing
-to his wise precipitancy he heard no more than the pleasant laughter--it
-really was pleasant laughter, though it did not sound so to him--of the
-two girls.
-
-But when the sound of the slamming of the hall-door reached the library
-the laughter in that apartment suddenly ceased. Sir Francis Délavai
-looked at each of the ladies, and both of them looked at him. For
-some moments no word was exchanged between them. At last one of them
-spoke--it was, strange to say, the man.
-
-“This is vastly fine, ladies,” he remarked. “You have got rid of your
-_bête-noire_, Lady Susan; that, I say, is vastly fine, but where are you
-to find a _bête-blanche_ to take his place?”
-
-“Surely we can find some gentleman willing to act the part of Bellaire?”
- said Lady Sarah.
-
-“Oh, there is not like to be a lack of young gentlemen willing to take
-the part, but we want not merely willingness, but competence as well;
-and the piece must be played on Wednesday, even though the part of
-Bellaire be left out,” said Sir Francis.
-
-Lady Susan looked blankly at the floor. She seemed ready to renew the
-tears which she had wept on the shoulder of her friend a short time
-before.
-
-“Have I been too hasty?” she said. “Alas! I fear that I have been
-selfish. I thought only of the poor figure that I should cut with such a
-lover--and with all the world looking on, too! I should have given more
-thought to your distress, Sir Francis.”
-
-“Say no more, I pray of you; better have no play at all than one that
-all our kind friends will damn with the utmost cordiality and good
-breeding,” said Sir Francis.
-
-“True, sir, but think of the ladies' dresses!” said Lady Sarah. “What
-the ladies say is, 'Better produce a play that will be cordially damned
-rather than deprive us of our chance of displaying our new dresses.'”
-
-“Heavens!” cried Sir Francis, “I had not thought of the new dresses.
-Lady Susan, you will e'en have to face the anger of your sisters--'tis
-not I that will tarry for such an event. I mean to fly to Bath
-or Brighthelmstone, or perchance to Timbuctoo, until the storm be
-overpast.”
-
-“Nay, nay, 'tis not a time for jesting, sir; let us not look at the
-matter from the standpoint of men, who do not stand but run away, let us
-be women for once, and scheme,” said Lady Susan.
-
-“That is woman's special province,” said Sir Francis. “Pray begin, my
-lady--'twill be strange if your ladyship and Lady Sarah do not succeed
-in----”
-
-“Psha! there is but one man in England who could play the part of
-Bellaire on Wednesday,” cried Lady Sarah. “Ay, sir, and he is the only
-one in England capable of playing it.”
-
-“Then we shall have him on our stage if I should have to pay a thousand
-pounds for his services,” said Sir Francis. “But where is he to be
-found?”
-
-“Cannot you guess, sir?” asked Lady Sarah, smiling.
-
-Sir Francis looked puzzled, but Lady Sue started and caught her friend
-by the wrist.
-
-“You do not mean----” she began.
-
-“Lud! these girls! Here's a scheme if you will!” muttered Sir Francis.
-
-“Ay, if you will, Sir Francis. You know that I mean Mr. O'Brien himself
-and none other,” cried Lady Sarah.
-
-“Impossible!” cried Lady Susan. “My father would never consent to my
-acting in a play with a real actor--no, not even if he were Mr. Garrick
-himself. How could you suggest such a thing, Sarah?”
-
-“What, do you mean to tell me that you would refuse to act with Mr.
-O'Brien?” asked Lady Sarah.
-
-“Oh, hear the child!” cried Lady Susan. “She asks me a question to which
-she knows only one answer is possible, and looks all the time as though
-she expected just the opposite answer!”
-
-“I know well that there are a good many ladies who would give all that
-they possess for the chance of acting with Mr. O'Brien, and you are
-among the number, my dear,” laughed Lady Sarah.
-
-“I dare not--I dare not. And yet----” murmured the other girl.
-
-Sir Francis had been lost in thought while the two had been bickering
-over the body of O'Brien. He had walked across the room and seated
-himself for some moments. Now he rose and held up a finger.
-
-“Ladies, this is a serious matter for all of us,” he said. And he spoke
-the truth to a greater depth than he was aware of. “'Tis a very serious
-matter. If we get Mr. O'Brien to play the part, the piece will be the
-greatest success of the day. If we fail to get him, our theatricals will
-be damned to a certainty. Lady Susan, will you consent to play with him
-if his name does not appear upon the bill?”
-
-“But every one would know Mr. O'Brien,” she faltered, after a pause that
-was overcharged with excitement.
-
-“Yes, in fact; but no one will have official cognizance of him, and,
-as you must know, in these matters of etiquette everything depends upon
-official cognizance.”
-
-“My father--”
-
-“His lordship will have no _locus standi_ in the case. He cannot take
-notice of an act that is not officially recognisable,” suggested Sir
-Francis, the sophist.
-
-“If you assure me---- But is't true that Mr. O'Brien only ceased to
-become a gentleman when he became an actor?” said Lady Susan.
-
-“I have not heard that he relinquished the one part when he took up the
-other,” said Sir Francis. “I wonder that you have not met him at the
-houses of some of our friends--he is more popular even than Mr. Garrick.
-The family of O'Brien----”
-
-“All kings, I doubt not,” said Lady Susan. “There were a good many
-kings in Ireland in the old days, I believe. I read somewhere that
-ninety-seven kings were killed in one battle, and still there were quite
-enough left to carry on the quarrels of the country. Oh, yes, there
-were plenty of kings, and their descendants have--well, descended. Mr.
-O'Brien descended pretty far when he became a play-actor.”
-
-“If he condescends to take up the part of Bellaire at the eleventh hour
-to pluck our theatricals out of the fire we shall have every reason to
-be grateful to him,” said Sir Francis with a severe air of reproof. He
-was beginning to be tired--as others in his place have been from time to
-time--of the capriciousness of his company of amateurs.
-
-“You are right, sir,” said Lady Sarah. “Come, my dear Sue, cease to give
-yourself the airs of those ladies who, Mr. Garrick affirms, have been
-the plague of his life. If Mr. O'Brien agrees to come to our rescue you
-should have no feeling but of gratitude to him. Surely 'twere churlish
-on the part of a damsel when a gallant knight rides up to her rescue to
-look at his horse in the mouth.”
-
-“I am thinking of my father,” said the other. “But I am disposed to
-accept the risk of the situation. You will promise that his name will
-not appear in the bills, Sir Francis?”
-
-“I will promise to do my best to save you from the contamination of
-having your name made as immortal as Mr. O'Brien's,” said Sir Francis.
-
-Lady Sarah laughed, and so did her friend--after a pause sufficient to
-allow the colour that had come to her face at the stinging reproof to
-die away.
-
-“I hope that you may catch your bird, sir--your eagle--your Irish
-eagle.”
-
-“If I could tell him that Lady Sarah Lennox was to be in the cast of the
-play I should need no further lure for him,” said Sir Francis, making
-his most exquisite bow to her.
-
-“Oh, sir, you overwhelm me,” said Lady Sarah, sinking in her most
-ravishing courtesy.
-
-Lady Susan coloured once more, and her foot played a noiseless tattoo on
-the floor, for she perceived all that Sir Francis's compliment implied.
-Lady Sarah was the most beautiful girl in England, while Lady Susan was
-not even second to her, a fact of which she was as well aware as her
-friends.
-
-This was how Lady Susan Fox-Strangways first met Mr. O'Brien, the
-actor whom Garrick had brought from Ireland in the year 1762. He
-good-naturedly agreed to help Sir Francis Délavai in his extremity, and
-his ready Irish tact enabled him to be the first to stipulate that his
-name should not appear in the bills--a condition with which Sir Francis
-complied, drawing a long breath.
-
-“Mr. O'Brien,” he said, “should the stage ever fail you, a fortune
-awaits you if you undertake the duty of teaching gentlemen the art of
-being a gentleman.”
-
-“Ah, sir, the moment that art enters the door the gentleman flies out
-by the window,” said the actor. “It is Nature, not art, that makes a
-gentleman.”
-
-One can well believe that Lady Susan Fox-Strangways, with all the pride
-of her connection with a peerage nearly ten years old, treated Mr.
-O'Brien's accession to a place in the company of amateurs with some
-hauteur, though it was said that she fell in love with him at once. On
-consideration, her bearing of hauteur which we have ventured to assign
-to her, so far from being incompatible with her having fallen in love
-with him, would really be a natural consequence of such an accident, and
-the deeper she felt herself falling the more she would feel it necessary
-to assert her position, if only for the sake of convincing herself that
-it was impossible for her to forget herself so far as to think of an
-Irish play-actor as occupying any other position in regard to her than
-that of a diversion for the moment.
-
-It was equally a matter of course that Lady Sarah should have an
-instinct of what was taking place. She had attended several of the
-rehearsals previously in the capacity of adviser to her friend, for Lady
-Susan had a high opinion of her critical capacity; but not until two
-rehearsals had taken place with O'Brien as Bellaire was she able to
-resume her attendance at Downing Street. Before half an hour had passed
-this astute lady had seen, first, that O'Brien made every other man in
-the cast seem a lout; and, secondly, that Lady Susan felt that every man
-in the world was a lout by the side of O'Brien.
-
-She hoped to discover what were the impressions of O'Brien, but she
-found herself foiled: the man was too good an actor to betray himself.
-The fervour which he threw into the character when making love to Lady
-Susan had certainly the semblance of a real passion, but what did this
-mean more than that Mr. O'Brien was a convincing actor?
-
-When she arrived at this point in her consideration of the situation
-Lady Sarah lost herself, and began to long with all her heart that the
-actor were making love to her--taking her hand with that incomparable
-devotion to--was it his art?--which he showed when Lady Susan's hand was
-raised, with a passionate glance into her eyes, to his lips; putting his
-arm about her waist, while his lips, trembling under the force of the
-protestations of undying devotion which they were uttering, were almost
-touching Lady Susan's ear. Before the love scene was over Lady Sarah was
-in love with the actor, if not with the man, O'Brien.
-
-So was every lady in the cast. O'Brien was the handsomest actor of the
-day. He had been careful of his figure at a time when men of fashion
-lived in such a way as made the preservation of a figure well-nigh
-impossible. Every movement was grace itself with him, and the period
-was one in which the costume of a man gave him every chance of at least
-imitating a graceful man. All the others in the cast of the play seemed
-imitating the gracefulness of O'Brien, and every man of them seemed
-a clown beside him. They gave themselves countless graces, but he was
-grace itself.
-
-Lady Sarah saw everything that was to be seen and said nothing. She was
-wise. She knew that in due time her friend would tell her all there was
-to be told.
-
-She was not disappointed. The play was produced, and of course every
-one recognised O'Brien in the part, although the bill--printed in gold
-letters on a satin ground, with a charming allegorical design by Lady
-Diana Spencer, showing a dozen dainty cupids going to school with
-satchels--stated that Bellaire would be represented by “a gentleman.”
-
-Equally as a matter of course a good many of the spectators affirmed
-that it was intolerable that a play-actor should be smuggled into a
-company of amateurs, some of them belonging to the best families. And
-then to attempt a deception of the audience by suggesting that O'Brien
-was a gentleman--oh, the thing was unheard of! So said some of the
-ladies, adding that they thought it rather sad that Lady Susan was not
-better-looking.
-
-But of the success of the entertainment there could not be a doubt. It
-was the talk of the town for a month, and every one noticed--even her
-own father--that Lady Susan was looking extremely thin and very pale.
-
-Lady Sarah said that she had taken the diversion of the theatricals too
-seriously.
-
-“I saw it from the first, my dear Sue,” she said.
-
-Sue sprang from her chair, and it would be impossible for any one to say
-now that she was over pale.
-
-“You saw it--you--what was it that you saw from the first?” she cried.
-
-Lady Sarah looked at her and laughed.
-
-“Ah, that is it--what was it that I saw from the first?” she said. “What
-I was going to say that I saw was simply that you were throwing yourself
-too violently into the production of the play. That was why you insisted
-on poor Lord B------'s getting his _congé_. It was a mistake--I saw that
-also.”
-
-“When did you see that?”
-
-“When I saw you taking part in that love scene with Mr. O'Brien.”
-
-“What mean you by that, Lady Sarah?”
-
-“Exactly what you fancy I mean, Lady Susan.”
-
-Lady Susan gazed at her blankly at first, then very pitifully. In
-another moment she had flung herself on her knees at the feet of her
-friend and was weeping in her lap.
-
-The friend was full of sympathy.
-
-“You poor child!” she murmured, “how could you help it? I vow that I
-myself--yes, for some minutes--I was as deep in love with the fellow as
-you yourself were. But, of course, you were with him longer--every day.
-Lud! what a handsome rascal he is, to be sure. His lordship must take
-you to the country without delay. Has the fellow tried to transfer the
-character in the play beyond the footlights?”
-
-“Never--never!” cried Susan. “Sir Francis was right--he is a gentleman.
-That is the worst of it!”
-
-“Oh, lud! the worst of it? Are you mad, girl?”
-
-“I am not mad now, but I know that I shall be if he remains a
-gentleman--if he refrains from telling me that he loves me--or at least
-of giving me a chance of telling him that I love him. That would be
-better than nothing--'twould be such a relief. I really do not think
-that I want anything more than to be able to confess to him that I love
-him--that 'tis impossible that I should love another.”
-
-“The sooner you go to the country the better 'twill be for yourself and
-all of us--his lordship especially. Good heavens, child, you must be
-mad! Do you fancy that his lordship would give his consent to your
-marriage with a strolling player, let him be as handsome as Beelzebub?”
-
-“He is not a strolling player. Mr. O'Brien is in Mr. Garrick's company,
-and every one knows that he is of good family. I have been searching it
-out for the past week--all about the O'Briens--there were a great many
-of them, all of them distinguished. If it had not been that King James
-was defeated by William, in Ireland, Mr. O'Brien's grandfather would
-have been made a duke. They were all heroes, the O'Briens. And they were
-just too sincere in their devotion to the losing side--that was it--the
-losing side was always the one they took up. And yet you call him a
-strolling player!”
-
-“I take back the insinuation and offer him my apologies; he is not a
-strolling player because he doesn't stroll--would to Heaven he did! Oh,
-my poor Sue, take a stroll into the country yourself as soon as possible
-and try to forget this dreadfully handsome wretch. You would not, I am
-sure, force me to tell his lordship what a goose his daughter is like to
-make of herself.”
-
-At this point there was a dramatic scene, one that was far more deeply
-charged with comedy of a sort than any to be found in Mr. Whitehead's
-play. Lady Susan accused her dear friend of being a spy, of extorting
-a confession from her under the guise of friendship, which in other
-circumstances--the rack, the wheel, the thumbscrew, in fact the entire
-mechanism of persuasion employed by the Spanish Inquisition--would have
-been powerless to obtain. Lady Sarah on her side entreated her friend
-not to show herself to be even a greater goose than her confession
-would make her out to be. For several minutes there was reproach and
-counter-reproach, many home truths followed home thrusts; then some
-tears, self-accusation, expressions of sympathy and tenderness, followed
-by promises of friendship beyond the dreams of Damon and Pythias;
-lastly, a promise on the part of Sue that she would take the advice of
-her devoted Sarah and fly to the country without delay.
-
-Strange to say, she fled to the country, and, stranger still, the result
-was not to cure her of her infatuation for the handsome actor. For close
-upon a year she did not see him, but she was as devoted to him as she
-had been at first, and no day passed on which she failed to think of
-him, or to spend some hours writing romantic verses, sometimes in the
-style of Waller in his lyrics, sometimes in the style (distant) of Mr.
-Dryden in his pastorals: she was Lesbia, and Mr. O'Brien was Strephon.
-
-But in the meantime she had improved so much in her acting that when
-Lady Sarah, who had within the year married Sir Thomas Bunbury, ventured
-to rally her upon her infatuation of the previous spring, she was
-able to disarm her suspicions by a flush and a shrug, and a little
-contemptuous exclamation or two.
-
-“Ah, my dear one, did not I give you good advice?” cried Lady Sarah. “I
-was well assured that my beloved Sue would never persevere in a passion
-that could only end in unhappiness. But indeed, child, I never had the
-heart to blame you greatly, the fellow is handsome as Apollo and as
-proud as Apolyon. He has broken many hearts not accounted particularly
-fragile, during the year.”
-
-“Is't possible? For example?--I vow that I shall keep their names
-secret.”
-
-Lady Sarah shook her head at first, but on being importuned whispered a
-name or two of ladies of their acquaintance, all of whom--according to
-Lady Sarah--had fallen as deep as was possible in love with O'Brien. Her
-ladyship was so intent on her narration of the scandals that she quite
-failed to see the strange light that gleamed in her friend's eyes at the
-mention of every name--a rather fierce gleam, with a flash of green in
-it. She did not notice this phenomenon, nor did she detect the false
-note in the tribute of laughter which her friend paid to her powers of
-narration.
-
-But Lady Sue, when the other had left her, rushed to her room and flung
-herself on her bed in a paroxysm of jealousy. She beat her innocent
-pillow wildly, crying in the whisper that the clenching of her teeth
-made imperative--“The hussies! Shameless creatures! Do they hope that he
-will be attracted to them? Fools!--they are fools! They do not know him
-as I know him. They think that he is nothing but a vain actor--Garrick,
-or Barry, or Lewes. Oh, they do not know him!”
-
-She lay there in her passion for an hour, and if it was her maid who
-discovered her at the end of that time, it is safe to assume that
-the young woman's flesh was black and blue in places for several
-days afterwards. The pinch and the slipper were among the most highly
-approved forms of torture inflicted upon their maids at that robust
-period of English history. The French Revolution was still some way off.
-
-A few weeks later Lady Susan was sitting to Sir Joshua Reynolds for a
-group, in which he painted her with her friend Lady Sarah Bunbury and
-Mr. Henry Fox; and it was the carrying out of this scheme that put quite
-another scheme into the quick brain of the first-named lady. Painting
-was in the air. She possessed a poor print of Mr. O'Brien, and she had
-found an immense consolation in gazing upon it--frequently at midnight,
-under the light of her bedroom candle. The sight of the life-like
-portraits in Sir Joshua's studio induced her to ask herself if she might
-not possess a picture of her lover that would show him as he really was
-in life, without demanding so many allowances as were necessary to be
-made for the shortcomings of the engraver of a print. Why should she not
-get Sir Joshua Reynolds to paint for her the portrait of Mr. O'Brien?
-
-[Illustration: 0379]
-
-The thought was a stimulating one, and it took possession of her for a
-week. At the end of that time, however, she came to the conclusion that
-it would be unwise for her to employ Sir Joshua on a commission that
-might possibly excite some comment on the part of her friends should
-they come to learn--and the work of this particular painter was rather
-inclined to be assertive--that it had been executed to her order. But
-she was determined not to live any longer without a portrait of the man;
-and, hearing some one mention at Sir Joshua's house the name of Miss
-Catherine Read, who was described as an excellent portrait painter, she
-made further inquiry, and the result was that she begged her father,
-the Earl of Ilchester, who was devoted to her, to allow her to have her
-portrait done by Miss Read, to present to Lady Sarah on her birthday.
-
-Of course Miss Read was delighted to have the patronage of so great
-a family--she had not yet done her famous pastel of the Duchess of
-Argyll--and Susan, accompanied by her footman, lost no time in beginning
-her series of sittings to the artist to whom Horace Walpole referred as
-“the painteress.”
-
-She was both patient and discreet, for three whole days elapsed before
-she produced a mezzotint of Mr. O'Brien.
-
-“I wonder if you would condescend to draw a miniature portrait of his
-lordship's favourite actor from so poor a copy as this, Miss Read?” she
-said. “Have you ever seen this Mr. O'Brien--an Irishman, I believe he
-is?”
-
-Miss Read assured her that Mr. O'Brien was her favourite actor also. The
-print produced was indeed a poor one; it quite failed to do justice to
-the striking features of the original, she said.
-
-“I felt certain that it could bear but a meagre resemblance to Mr.
-O'Brien if all that I hear of the man be true,” said Lady Susan. “His
-lordship swears that there has never been so great an actor in England,
-and I should like to give him a surprise by presenting to him a
-miniature portrait of his favourite, done by the cunning pencil of Miss
-Read, on his birthday. I protest that 'tis a vast kindness you are doing
-me in undertaking such a thing. But mind, I would urge of you to keep
-the affair a profound secret. I wish it as a surprise to my father, and
-its effect would be spoilt were it to become known to any of his friends
-that I had this intention.”
-
-“Your ladyship may rest assured that no living creature will hear of the
-affair through me,” said the painteress. “But I heartily wish that your
-ladyship could procure for me a better copy than this print from which
-to work,” she added.
-
-“I fear that I cannot promise you that; I found two other prints of the
-same person, but they are worse even than this,” said Lady Susan. “You
-must do your best with the material at your disposal.”
-
-“Your ladyship may depend on my doing my best,” replied Miss Read. “When
-does his lordship's birthday take place?”
-
-Her ladyship was somewhat taken aback by the sudden question. It took
-her some time to recollect that her father's birthday was to be within
-a month. She felt that she could not live for longer than another month
-without a portrait of the man whom she loved.
-
-While she was going home in her chair she could not but feel that she
-had hitherto been an undutiful daughter, never having taken any interest
-in her father's birthday, and being quite unacquainted with its date.
-She hoped fervently that Miss Read would not put herself to the trouble
-to find out exactly on what day of what month it took place. The result
-of such an investigation might be a little awkward.
-
-It so happened that Miss Read took no trouble in this direction. All her
-attention was turned upon the task of making a presentable miniature out
-of the indifferent material with which she had been supplied for this
-purpose. She began wondering if it might not be possible to get O'Brien
-to sit to her half a dozen times in order to give her a chance of doing
-credit to herself and to the gentleman's fine features.
-
-She was still pondering over this question when her attendant entered
-with a card, saying that a gentleman had come to wait on her.
-
-She read the name on the card, and uttered an exclamation of surprise,
-for the name was that of the man of whom she was thinking--Mr. O'Brien,
-of Drury Lane Theatre.
-
-She had wholly failed to recover herself before he entered the studio,
-and advanced to her, making his most respectful bow. He politely
-ignored her flutter-ings--he was used to see her sex overwhelmed when he
-appeared.
-
-“Madam, I beg that you will pardon this intrusion,” he said. “I have
-taken the liberty of waiting upon you, knowing of your great capacity as
-an artist.”
-
-“Oh, sir!” cried the fluttered little lady, making her courtesy.
-
-“Nay, madam, I have no intention of flattering one to whom compliments
-must be as customary as they are well deserved,” said the actor. “I come
-not to confer a favour, madam, but to entreat one. In short, Miss Read,
-I am desirous of presenting a valued friend of mine with the portrait of
-a lady for whom he entertains a sincere devotion. For certain reasons,
-which I need not specify, the lady cannot sit to you; but I have here
-a picture of her poorly done in chalks, from which I hope it may be
-in your power to make a good--a good---- Good heavens! what do I
-behold? 'Tis she--she--Lady Susan herself!”
-
-He had glanced round the studio in the course of his speech, and his
-eyes had alighted upon the newly-begun portrait of Lady Susan. It
-represented only a few days' work, but the likeness to the original had
-been ably caught, and no one could fail to recognise the features.
-
-He took a hurried step to the easel, and the air made by his motion
-dislodged a print which the artist had laid on the little ledge that
-supported the stretcher of the canvas. The print fluttered to the floor;
-he picked it up, and gave another exclamation on recognising his own
-portrait in the mezzotint.
-
-Looking from the print to the picture and then at Miss Read, he said in
-a low voice, after a pause--“Madam, I am bewildered. Unless you come
-to my assistance I protest I shall feel that I am dreaming and asleep.
-Pray, madam, enlighten me--for Heaven's sake tell me how this”--he held
-up the print--“came into such close juxtaposition with that”--he pointed
-to the portrait on the easel.
-
-“'Tis easily told, sir,” said Miss Read, smiling archly. “But I must
-leave it to your sense of honour to keep the matter a profound secret.”
-
-“Madam,” said Mr. O'Brien with dignity, “Madam, I am an Irishman.”
-
-“That is enough, sir; I know that I can trust you. The truth is, Mr.
-O'Brien, that Lady Susan is sitting to me for her portrait--that
-portrait. 'Twas marvellous that you should recognise it so soon. I have
-not worked at it for many hours.”
-
-“Madam, your art is beyond that of the magician. 'Tis well known that
-every form depicted by Miss Read not only breathes but speaks.”
-
-“Oh, sir, I vow that you are a flatterer; still, you did recognise the
-portrait--'tis to be presented to Lady Sarah Bunbury.”
-
-“Her ladyship will be the most fortunate of womankind.”
-
-“Which ladyship, sir--Lady Susan or Lady Sarah?”
-
-“Both, madam.” The Irishman was bowing with his hand on his heart. “But
-the print--my poor likeness?”
-
-“That is the secret, sir; but you will not betray it when I tell you
-that Lady Susan entrusted that print to me in order that I might make a
-copy in miniature for her to present to her father, Lord Ilchester. You
-are his favourite actor, Mr. O'Brien, as no doubt you are aware.”
-
-“'Tis the first I heard of it, madam.” There was a suggestion of
-mortification in the actor's tone.
-
-“Ah, 'twould be impossible for Mr. O'Brien to keep an account of all his
-conquests. But now you can understand how it is that her ladyship wishes
-her intention to be kept a secret: she means to add to the acceptability
-of her gift by presenting it as a surprise. But her secret is safe in
-your keeping, sir?”
-
-“I swear to it, madam.” Mr. O'Brien spoke mechanically. His hand was on
-his chin: he was clearly musing upon some question that perplexed him.
-He took a turn up and down the studio, and then said:
-
-“Madam, it has just occurred to me that you, as a great artist----”
-
-“Nay, sir,” interposed the blushing painteress.
-
-“I will not take back a word, madam,” said the actor, holding up one
-inexorable hand. “I say that surely so great an artist as you should
-disdain to do the work of a mere copyist. Why should not you confer upon
-me the honour of sitting to you for the miniature portrait?”
-
-“Oh, sir, that is the one favour which I meant to ask of you, if my
-courage had not failed me.”
-
-“Madam, you will confer immortality upon a simple man through that magic
-wand which you wield.” He swept his hand with inimitable grace over the
-mahl-stick which lay against the easel. “I am all impatient to begin my
-sitting, Miss Read. Pray let me come to-morrow.”
-
-“Her ladyship comes to-morrow.”
-
-“I shall precede her ladyship. Name the hour, madam.”
-
-Without the least demur Miss Read named an hour which could enable him
-to be far away from the studio before Lady Susan's arrival.
-
-And yet the next day Lady Susan entered the studio quite half an hour
-before Mr. O'Brien had left it. Of course she was surprised. Had not
-Miss Read received a letter, making her aware of the fact that she, Lady
-Susan, would be forced, owing to circumstances over which she had
-no control, to sit for her portrait an hour earlier than that of her
-appointment?
-
-When Miss Read said she had received no such letter, Lady Susan said
-some very severe things about her maid. Miss Read was greatly fluttered,
-but she explained in as few words as possible how it was that Mr.
-O'Brien had come forward in the cause of art, and was sitting for the
-miniature. Lady Susan quickly got over her surprise. (Had Miss Read seen
-the letter which her ladyship had received the previous evening from
-Mr. O'Brien she would not have marvelled as she did at the rapidity
-with which her ladyship recovered her self-possession.) Her ladyship
-was quite friendly with the actor, and thanked him for his courtesy
-in offering to give up so much of his time solely for the sake of
-increasing the value of her gift to her father.
-
-A few minutes later, while they were discussing some point in the design
-of the picture, Miss Read was called out of the studio, and in a second
-Lady Susan was in his arms.
-
-“Fate is on our side, darling girl!” he whispered.
-
-“I could not live without you, my charmer. But I was bold! I took my
-fate in both hands when I wrote you that letter.”
-
-“Dear one, 'twas the instinct of true love that made you guess the
-truth--that I wanted the portrait because I loved the original. Oh, dear
-one, what have I not suffered during the year that has parted us!” said
-Lady Susan, with her head upon his shoulder.
-
-The Irishman found it necessary to fall back upon the seductive tongue
-of his country for words of endearment to bestow upon her. He called her
-“Sheila,” “a cushla machree,” “mavourneen,” and also “aroon.” But when
-Miss Read returned to the studio they were still discussing a purely
-artistic point in connection with the portrait.
-
-Of course now that O'Brien knew the secret of the miniature there was no
-reason that Miss Read could see why he and Lady Susan should not meet at
-her studio. To do her justice, neither could her ladyship perceive why
-they should not come together at this place. They came every day, and
-every day Lady Susan begged that Miss Read would allow her to rest in
-her ante-room after the fatigue of the sitting. She rested in that
-room, and in the company of O'Brien, until at last Miss Read became
-frightened; and one day told her friend Lord Cathcart something of her
-fears. Lord Cathcart, in his turn, told Lord Ilchester. His lordship was
-furious, but cautious.
-
-He wanted evidence of his daughter's infatuation. He got it the next
-morning, for he insisted on seeing a letter which arrived for Lady
-Susan, addressed in the handwriting of Lady Sarah. This letter turned
-out to be from O'Brien, and Susan confessed that her father's surmise
-was correct--all the letters which she had recently received in Lady
-Sarah's hand had come from O'Brien.
-
-Her father was foolish enough to grant her permission to say farewell
-to her lover, and thus the two were allowed to come together once more.
-They had a long talk, in the course of which O'Brien communicated to her
-a secret of the theatre, which was that Mr. Garrick and Mr. Colman were
-engaged in the construction of a comedy to be called _The Clandestine
-Marriage_, and that Mr. Garrick told him that he, O'Brien, was to play
-the part of the lover--the gentleman who had married the lady in secret.
-
-Lady Susan parted from her lover, not in tears, but in laughter.
-
-The conclusion of the story is told by Horace Walpole, writing to Lord
-Hertford.
-
-“You will have heard of the sad misfortune that has happened to Lord
-Ilchester by his daughter's marriage with O'Brien, the actor,” wrote
-Walpole; and then went on to tell how Lady Susan had made her confession
-to her father, vowing to have nothing more to do with her lover if she
-were but permitted to bid him good-bye. “You will be amazed,” continued
-Walpole, “even this was granted. The parting scene happened the
-beginning of the week. On Friday she came of age, and on Saturday
-morning--instead of being under lock and key in the country--walked
-downstairs, took her footman, said she was going to breakfast with
-Lady Sarah, but would call at Miss Read's; in the street pretended
-to recollect a particular cap in which she was to be drawn, sent the
-footman back for it, whipped into a hackney chair, was married at Covent
-Garden Church, and set out for Mr. O'Brien's villa at Dunstable.”
-
-Unlike many other alliances of a similar type, this marriage turned out
-a happy one. O'Brien was induced to leave the stage and to depart with
-his wife for America. He obtained a grant of some forty thousand acres
-in the province of New York, and had he retained this property and taken
-the right side during the Revolution his descendants would to-day be
-the richest people in the world. A few years later he was given a
-good appointment in Bermuda; and finally, in 1770, he was made
-Receiver-General of the County of Dorset, and became popular as a
-country squire. He died in 1815, and Lady Susan survived him by twelve
-years.
-
-It was Lady Sarah who had made the imprudent marriage. She submitted to
-the cruelties of her husband for fourteen years, and on her leaving his
-roof he obtained a divorce.
-
-In 1781, nineteen years after her first marriage, she wedded the Hon.
-George Napier, and became the mother of three of the greatest Englishmen
-of the nineteenth century. She lived until she was eighty. Her friend
-Lady Susan followed her to the grave a year later, at the age of
-eighty-four.
-
-
-THE END
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-End of Project Gutenberg's A Georgian Pageant, by Frank Frankfort Moore
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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 51964 *** + +A GEORGIAN PAGEANT + +By Frank Frankfort Moore + +With Illustrations + +London: Hutchinson & Co. Paternoster Row + +1908 + + + + +THE WRITER'S APOLOGY + +THE greater number of the papers in this series, dealing with some +well-known persons and incidents of the latter half of the Eighteenth +Century, are the practical result of a long conversation which the +writer had with the late Professor J. Churton Collins upon a very +memorable occasion. The writer ventured to contend that the existing +views respecting the personality of Oliver Goldsmith, of Henry Thrale, +of James Boswell, of Samuel Johnson, and of some others whom he named, +were grossly erroneous; as were also the prevalent notions respecting +such matters as Fanny Burney's attendance upon the Queen, the “romance” + of the Gunnings, and the “elopement” of Richard Brinsley Sheridan with +Elizabeth Linley. If Professor Churton Collins had not urged upon +the writer the possible interest attaching to the expression of some +opinions unbiassed by those conservators of the conventional who have +dealt with the same period, every one of them being as careful as +Indians on the warpath to tread in the footsteps of the man preceding +him, he would not have the courage to set forth his views in the form +they now assume. + +The non-controversial papers in the series may increase the light and +shade in the sketches of this very humble Georgian Pageant. The romance +of Lady Susan Fox-Strangways naturally took the shape of a “regulation” + story. The details are absolutely correct. + +On the very day the writer meant to keep the promise he made to +Professor Churton Collins, by sending him the completed proofs of this +book, the melancholy news of his death was published--an irreparable +loss to the Literature of English Criticism. + + + + +THE MONARCH OF THE PAGEANT + +On the morning of February 2nd, 1789, a lady was taking a solitary +stroll in Kew Gardens. She was a small person, of dainty features, with +a dimple on each side of her mouth that suggested a smile, varying, +perhaps out of compliment to the variations of the people with whom +she came in contact in her daily life, and shifting doubtless with +the movements of the folk of her fancy through her quick brain, but +remaining a smile all the time. There was about her a good deal of that +doll-like primness which is so pretty an accompaniment of a person of +small stature; but with this particular person it had--not quite, but +almost--the additional charm of dignity. One could at all times see that +she was making a highly intellectual attempt to be dignified; but that +she was not really dignified at heart. One could see that she had too +fine a sense of humour to be thoroughly dignified; and it may be that +some of her closest observers--her closest observers were her greatest +admirers--perceived now and again that she had a full sense of the +humour of her efforts in the direction of dignity. She had large eyes, +but being very short-sighted, she had a habit of half closing them when +looking at anything or any one further away from her than ten feet. But +somehow it was never suggested that the falling of her lids brought a +frown to her face. + +She was a quick walker at all times; but on this winter day the slowest +would have had little temptation to dawdle. The usual river mist was +thrusting up a quivering cold hand among the gaunt trees of the water +boundary of the Gardens, and here and there it flitted like a lean +spectre among the clipped evergreens of the shrubberies. There was a +maze of yew hedges, in the intricacies of which one mist-spectre had +clearly got lost; and the lady, who had some imagination, could see, +as she hurried past, the poor thing's wispy head and shoulders flitting +about among the baffling central walks. (A defective eyesight is +sometimes a good friend to the imagination.) And all the while she was +hurrying along the broad track she was looking with some measure of +uneasiness through her half-closed eyes down every tributary walk that +ran into the main one, and peering uneasily down every long artificial +vista that Sir Thomas Chambers, the Swedish knight and landscape +gardener, had planned, through the well-regulated boskage, with an +imitation Greek temple or Roman villa at the end. Approaching the +widening entrance to each of these, she went cautiously for a few +moments until she had assured herself on some point. Once she started +and took a step backward, but raising the lorgnette which she carried, +and satisfying herself that the group of men a hundred yards down one of +the vistas was composed wholly of gardeners, she resumed her stroll. + +Whatever slight apprehension may have been on her mind had vanished by +the time she had half completed the circuit made by the main walk. +She had reached one of the mounds which at that time were covered with +rhododendrons, and paused for a moment to see if there was sign of a +bud. A blackbird flew out from among the dense leafage, and she followed +it with her eyes as well as she could while she walked on, crossing the +narrow path that led to the seats on the mound. But at the moment of +crossing she was startled out of her senses by the sound of a shout from +some distance down this path--a loud shout followed by several others +rather less imperative. She gave a little exclamation of terror, raising +her muff to her face. Glancing in the direction whence the commotion +was coming, she gave another cry, seeing a tall man rush toward her with +outstretched arms--waving arms, frantically beckoning to her while he +shouted: + +“Miss Burney! Miss Burney!” + +She waited no longer. She turned and fled along the broad walk, making +for one of the many labyrinths not so very far away, and after her ran +the man, still shouting and gesticulating. She could hear the sound of +his feet and his voice behind her, as well as the cries of the other +men who were endeavouring to keep pace with him. On they came, and there +flashed through her active brain, in spite of the horrible apprehension +which thrilled through every nerve in her body, as she doubled back +upon the path which she had just traversed, the lines written by Dr. +Goldsmith and often quoted by her friend Dr. Johnson: + + A hare whom hounds and horns pursue, + + Pants to the place from whence at first he flew. + +She realised, all too painfully, the feelings of the poor hare at that +moment. She longed for a friendly earth to open up before her. They were +behind her--those wild huntsmen, one hoarsely yelling to her she knew +not what, the others, more shrill, shouting to her to stop. + +She was too frightened to think of obeying any of them. On she ran, +and it seemed that she was increasing the distance between her and her +panting pursuers, until one of them, having better wind, managed to +shoot ahead of the others, and to get close enough to say in a voice +that was not all gasps: + +“Madam, madam, the doctor begs you to stop!” She glanced over her +shoulder, still flying. + +“No, no, I cannot--I dare not!” she gasped. + +“Madam, you must--you must: it hurts the King to run!” cried the man. + +Then she stopped. The man, an ordinary attendant, stood in front of her. +He was more breathless than Miss Burney. + +“The doctor, madam,” he faltered, “'twas the doctor--he thought at first +that His Majesty was--was--but that was at first--now he says you must +please not lead His Majesty on--'tis all too much for him. Save us! How +you did go, madam! Who would ha' thought it?” + +She was paying no attention to him. Her eyes were fixed upon the group +of men who were recovering their breath while they walked slowly +toward her. The King was between his two physicians--not Physicians in +Ordinary; just the contrary--the two physicians who had been +summoned from Lincolnshire by some person in authority who possessed +intelligence--it should surely be easy to identify such a man at the +Court of George III--when, some months earlier, His Majesty gave signs +of losing his mental balance. They were the Willises, father and son, +the former a clergyman, who was therefore all the more fully qualified +to deal with a mind diseased--such a case as was defined as needing more +the divine than the physician. The King was between the father and his +son, but neither of them was exercising any ostentatious or officious +restraint upon him. One of them was smiling while he said some +reassuring words to the Royal patient; the other was endeavouring to +reassure little Miss Burney from a distance. + +And it seemed that the intentions of both were realised, for His Majesty +was smiling as benignly as was ever his wont, and little Miss Burney +took her courage in both hands and boldly advanced to meet her +Sovereign. (She had been for three years the Queen's “Dresser.”) But +when they met, after the King had cried, “Why did you run away from me, +Miss Burney?” it appeared that the process of reassuring the King had +been but too effectually accomplished, for before the lady could frame a +diplomatic reply to his inquiry, he had enwound her in his paternal arms +and kissed her heartily on the cheek, greatly to her confusion and (she +pretends) to her horror. The two doctors stood placidly by. They, poor +things, being quite unaccustomed to the ways of the immediate entourage +of the Court of George III--though they had doubtless heard something +of the practices that prevailed at the Courts of His Majesty's lamented +grandfather and great-grandfather--seemed under the impression that +there was nothing unusual in this form of salutation. For all they knew +it might be regarded as _de rigueur_ between a monarch and the ladies of +his consort's retinue. Even Dr. Willis, the divine, took a tolerant view +of the transaction. He, as Miss Burney afterwards recorded, actually +looked pleased! + +But, of course, the prim little lady herself was overwhelmed--yes, at +first; but soon her good sense came to her rescue. She seems to have +come with extraordinary rapidity to the conclusion that the King was +not so mad as she had believed him to be. Her train of reasoning was +instinctive, and therefore correct: the King had put his arms about her +and kissed her when he had the chance, therefore he could not be so mad +after all. + +In truth, however, Fanny Burney took the view of her treatment that any +sensible modest young woman would take of it. She knew that the King, +who had been separated for several months from the people whom he had +been daily in the habit of meeting, had shown in the most natural way +possible his delight at coming once more in contact with one of them. + +And undoubtedly the homely old gentleman was delighted beyond measure to +meet with some one belonging to his happy years--a pleasanter face than +that of Mrs. Schwellenberg, the dreadful creature who had made Fanny +Burney's life miserable. It is not conceivable that the King would have +kissed Mrs. Schwellenberg if he had come upon her suddenly as he had +upon Miss Burney. People prefer silver rather than iron links with a +happy past. He was so overjoyed, that the divine and the physician in +attendance soon became anxious. They could not know much of all that +he talked about to Miss Burney. They were in the position of strangers +suddenly introduced to a family circle, and understanding nothing of the +little homely secrets--homely topics upon which all the members of the +circle have laughed together for years. + +They possibly could not see much sense in his long and rambling chat--it +must have been largely in monologue--but they must have observed the +face of the lady who was listening to him, and known from the expression +which it wore that their patient was making himself intelligible. Only +now and again they thought it prudent to check his exuberance. They must +have been the most intelligent of men; and their names deserve to stand +high in the annals of their country. At a time when the scientific +treatment of the insane had not even begun to be formulated--when to +be mentally afflicted meant to be on a level with felons and to be +subjected to such repressive treatment as was afforded by the iron of +the fetters and the hiss of the whipcord--at a time when a lust for +office could make a statesman like Burke (a statesman who caused +multitudes to weep in sympathy with his harangue on the sufferings +of Marie Antoinette) refer to the King as having been “hurled by the +Almighty from his throne” (in order to give the Opposition a chance of +jumping into place and power over his prostrate body)--at such a time +as this Dr. Willis and his two sons undertook the treatment of the King, +and in the face of much opposition from the place-hunters in the Prince +of Wales's pack, succeeded in restoring their patient to the palace +which his happy nature had transformed into a home for every one +dwelling under its roof. + +They stood by for some time after the King had greeted Miss Burney; and +when he began to speak to her of topics that had a purely domestic +ring they showed their good taste, as well as their knowledge of the +peculiarities of their “case,” by moving away to a little distance, +signalling to their attendants to do the same. Their discrimination must +have been highly appreciated by the King. The poor restless mind had +long wanted such a good long talk with a sympathetic listener, who, he +knew, could understand every allusion that he might make to the past. +He yearned to talk and to hear of such things as some one living in a +distant land looks forward to finding in a letter from home. The _res +angusta domi_--that was what he was hungering for--the trivial things in +which he delighted--the confidences on simple matters--the sly everyday +jests, never acutely pointed even to the family circle, but absolutely +pointless to every one outside, yet sounding so delightfully witty when +repeated as a sign of a happy intimacy of the past! + +Little Miss Burney had never imagined a scene like that in which +she played an insignificant part at the moment, but one of enormous +importance for posterity. She had, a few years before, been placed upon +the porphyry pedestal which is reserved in England for the greatest +woman writer of the generation. Seated there quite complacently, without +reflecting upon the possibility of her pedestal becoming a trifle +rickety, she had clasped her novel _Evelina_ to her bosom, and received, +without her head being in the least turned, the adulation--respectful +in some cases, almost passionate in others--of the most notable men +and women in the most intellectual and artistic society in England. +Dr. Samuel Johnson, who was not disposed to overrate the merits of any +writer whom the world had praised, was kissing her hands, and Richard +Brinsley Sheridan was kissing her feet; Sir Joshua Reynolds was kissing +the hem of her garments; while Edmund Burke was weaving a tinsel crown +of rhetoric for her shapely head; but there were others equally great +at that time who seemed to think that only a nimbus could give the +appropriate finish to the little personage on the pedestal. The +marvellous story of her success has been often told. It is more easily +told than understood in the present day, the fact being that fashion in +fiction is the most ephemeral of all human caprices, and Fanny Burney +was essentially a fashion. She followed up the marvellous success of +_Evelina_, after an interval of four years, with the natural success of +_Cecilia_, and, after another four years, she retired from the brilliant +world into the obscurity of the palace--the palace wardrobe. She had +visited Mrs. Delany, and had been introduced (not presented) to the King +and Queen, and the office of Queen's Dresser--Keeper of the Robes was +the stately designation of a very humble service--becoming vacant, it +was offered to Fanny Burney and accepted by her, acting on the advice +of her father, who most certainly hoped that his own interests as a +musician, fully qualified to become leader of the Royal Band, would +be materially advanced when his daughter should become one of the +Household. + +Reams of indignation have been published from time to time in respect of +Dr. Burney's conduct in urging on his one brilliant daughter--the others +were not brilliant, only mothers--to accept a post the duties of which +could be discharged by any lady's maid with far more advantage to the +Royal Consort than could possibly result from the ministrations of Fanny +Burney. The world has been called on to bemoan the prudent indiscretion +of the father, who did not hesitate to fling his gifted daughter's pen +out of the window, so to speak, and thereby deprive the waiting world of +some such masterpiece as _Camilla_--the novel which she published five +years after her release from the burden of the Robes. There can be +no doubt that the feeling which prevailed among the circle of the +elect--the Reynoldses, the Burkes, and even the frigid Walpole--when +it became known that Miss Burney's health was breaking down under +the strain of her duties at the Court--she had about two hours' daily +attendance of the most ordinary nature upon the Queen--was on the border +of indignation. Every one affirmed that it was a disgrace for so lively +a genius to be kept at the duties of a lady's maid. It was like turning +the winner of the Oaks out to the plough. Edmund Burke, recalling his +early approbation of the intentions of Dr. Burney in regard to his +daughter, declared that he had never made so great a mistake in all +his life; and we know that he made a few. These excellent people had no +reason to speak otherwise than they did on this matter. All they knew +was that the pen of the novelist who had given them so much pleasure had +been (as they believed) idle for nearly nine years, five of which had +been passed at the Court. That reflection was quite enough to rouse +their indignation. But what can one say of the indignation on this point +of a writer who actually made the fact of his being engaged on a review +of the Diary of Fanny Burney--the incomparable Diary which she kept +during her five years at Court--an excuse for turning the vials of his +wrath upon her father, whose obstinacy gave her a chance of writing the +most interesting chapter--the most accurate chapter--of History that was +ever penned by man or woman? + +Macaulay wrote in all the fullness of his knowledge of what Fanny +Burney had written. He knew that for four years after she had published +_Cecilia_ her pen had been idle so far as fiction was concerned. He knew +that for five years after her release from the thraldom of the Queen's +closet she had published nothing; he himself felt it to be his duty to +point out the comparative worthlessness of _Camilla_, the novel which +she then gave to the world, not because she felt upon her the impulse of +a woman of genius, but simply because she found herself in great need +of some ready money. Macaulay does not disdain to go into the money +question, showing (he fancies) how Dr. Burney had by his obstinacy +deprived his gifted daughter of earning the large sum which she would +assuredly have obtained by the writing of a novel in the time that +she was compelled to devote to the Queen's _toilette_. He found it +convenient to ignore the fact that of the fourteen years that elapsed +between the publication of _Cecilia_ and that of _Camilla_ only five +were spent at Court. Surely any born novelist could, without running +a chance of imperilling a well-earned reputation by undue haste in the +dialogue or by scamping the descriptive passages, contrive by dint of +hard, but not over-hard, work to produce more than one complete romance +within a space of nine years. Many ladies who are not born novelists +have succeeded in surpassing this task without physical suffering. + +But even assuming that the author of _Evelina, Cecilia, and Camilla_ +lost not only time but money while she was at Court, how much money did +she lose? She received at least the equivalent of £2000 for her five +years' service, and she was granted a pension of £100 a year, which she +drew for forty-nine years; so that for her enforced seclusion she was +remunerated to the extent of close upon £7000! This sum represents more +than all Fanny Burney's literary works yielded to her from the joyous +youthful days of _Evelina_ down to the somewhat sordid middle age of +_Camilla_. + +But what has the world gained by the lamentable short-sightedness +attributed to Dr. Burney? How is one to estimate the value of that +incomparable Diary so admirably “written up” during her tedious five +years at Court? How many _Cecilias_, how many _Camillas_ would one not +give in exchange for a single year of that part of the Diary which deals +with the approach of the King's malady? In no work of fiction that ever +came from her pen did she ever show such power of observation, not only +of incident, but of character as well; nor is there apparent on any page +produced by her imagination such perfect artistic effects as appeal to a +reader on every page of this Diary of a disease. + +At the outset of her account of these dreadful days we are conscious +of the vague approach of a shadow--we feel as if we were led into the +darkened chamber of a haunted house. Our attendant pauses by our side, +listening for strange noises; she lays a hand upon our arm, as it were, +and speaks to us in a whisper. We feel that the dread Thing is coming. +The King is indisposed--he has not been quite in his usual health for +some time past; but of course nothing very alarming has been announced +by Sir George Barker, the Physician in Ordinary, although there is an +uncertainty as to His Majesty's complaint. But Miss Burney has seen the +faces of the people about her who have come more closely in contact with +the Sovereign; she has doubtless noticed the solemnity of some--the airs +of mystery, the head-shakings, and she is capable of drawing her own +conclusions. “Heaven preserve him!” she whispers in her Diary for +October 19th, 1788. She is very much with the Queen, and she perceives +that Her Majesty is extremely uneasy, though saying nothing. There is +great alarm during the night. Possibly some one has heard the delirious +voice of the King coming from his apartments in that tumbledown palace +of his at Kew. The fright is general, and every one is wondering what +the morning will bring forth. Hope comes with the light. The bulletin is +that the King was ill, but is now so very much better that his physician +believes the move to Windsor, to which the Court was looking forward, +may be taken. The move is made on the 25th, and then Miss Burney has a +chance meeting with the King that causes her to suspect the truth. He +talks to her with unnatural vehemence--unnatural volubility--and without +cessation for a long time; all is exaggerated, and his graciousness most +of all. She has never met with anything like this before, but having +heard of the delirium accompanying a high fever, she believes that His +Majesty is in the throes of a fever. + +The next day is Sunday, and she meets him again in one of the passages, +and she finds him rather more coherent in his talk, but still it is the +talk of a man in the delirium of a fever. It is all about himself--his +health--his dreadful sleeplessness. He keeps at it for half an hour +without making the slightest pause; and yet he manages to convey to +her an impression of his benevolence--his consideration for the people +around him--his hopes that he may not cause them any uneasiness. When he +leaves her she doubtless tells of the meeting to some of her friends in +the apartments where the equerries are accustomed to meet, and doubtless +there are more head-shakings and airs of mystery; but she records: +“Nobody speaks of his illness, nor what they think of it.” + +Apparently, too, no one felt it to be necessary to subject His Majesty +to any course of treatment, although, a few days later, he became +so weak that he, who at the beginning of the year thought nothing of +walking twelve miles at a stretch--more than his sons could do--hobbled +along like a gouty man. Gradually, very gradually, the horror +approaches; and nothing that has ever been done in fiction equals in +effect the simple record of all that Fanny Burney noticed from day to +day. Most touching of all her entries are those relating to the Queen. +“The Queen,” she writes, “is almost overpowered with some secret +terror. I am affected beyond all expression in her presence to see what +struggles she makes to support her serenity. To-day she gave up the +conflict when I was alone with her; and burst into a violent fit of +tears. It was very, very terrible to see!... something horrible seemed +impending... I was still wholly unsuspicious of the greatness of the +cause she had for dread. Illness, a breaking up of the constitution, the +payment of sudden infirmity and premature old age for the waste of +unguarded health and strength--these seemed to me the threats awaiting +her; and great and grievous enough, yet how short of the fact!”... + +At last the terrible truth was revealed. Miss Burney was dining with one +of the Queen's ladies; but there was little conversation between them. +It was clear that both had their suspicions of the nature of the dread +shadow that was hovering over the castle. They remained together, +waiting for the worst. “A stillness the most uncommon reigned over the +whole house. Nobody stirred; not a voice was heard; not a motion. I +could do nothing but watch, without knowing for what; there seemed a +strangeness in the house most extraordinary.” + +To talk of such passages as these as examples of literary art would be +ridiculous. They are transcripts from life itself made by some one with +a genius for observation, not merely for recording. Boswell had a genius +for recording; but his powers of observation were on a level with those +of a sheep. We know perfectly well what his treatment of the scenes +leading up to the tragedy of the King would have been. But Fanny Burney +had the artist's instinct for collecting only such incidents as heighten +the effect. + +When she is still sitting in the dim silence of that November evening +with her friend some one enters to whisper that there was to be no +playing of the after-dinner music in which the King usually took so much +pleasure. Later on the equerries come slowly into the room. There is +more whispering--more head-shaking. What was it all about? Had anything +happened? What had happened? No one wishes to be the first to speak. But +the suspense! The strain upon the nerves of the two ladies! At last it +can be borne no longer. The dreadful revelation is made. The King is a +madman! + +At dinner, the Prince of Wales being present, His Majesty had “broken +forth into positive delirium, which long had been menacing all who +saw him most closely; and the Queen was so overpowered as to fall into +violent hysterics. All the princesses were in misery, and the Prince of +Wales had burst into tears. No one knew what was to follow--no one could +conjecture the event.” Nothing could be more pathetic than the concern +of the King for his wife. His delusion is that she is the sufferer. When +Fanny Burney went to her room, where she was accustomed to await her +nightly summons to attend Her Majesty, she remained there alone for two +hours. At midnight she can stand the suspense no longer. She opens the +door and listens in the passage. Not a sound is to be heard. Not even +a servant crossed the stairs on the corridor off which her apartment +opened. After another hour's suspense a page knocks at her door with the +message that she is to go at once to her Royal mistress. + +“My poor Royal Mistress!” she writes. “Never can I forget her +countenance--pale, ghastly pale she looked... her whole frame was +disordered, yet she was still and quiet. And the poor King is dreadfully +uneasy about her. Nothing was the matter with himself, he affirmed, +except nervousness on her account. He insisted on having a bed made +up for himself in her dressing-room in order that he might be at hand +should she become worse through the night. He had given orders that Miss +Goldsworthy was to remain with her; but it seemed that he had no great +confidence in the vigilance of any one but himself, for some hours +after the Queen had retired he appeared before the eyes of the horrified +lady-in-waiting, at the door, bearing a lighted candle. He opened the +bed curtains and satisfied himself that his dread of her being carried +out of the palace was unfounded; but he did not leave the room for +another half-hour, and the terror of the scene completely overwhelmed +the unhappy lady.” + +Truly when this terror was walking by night Fanny Burney's stipend was +well earned. But worse was in store for her when it was decided that the +King should be removed to Kew Palace, which he detested and which was +certainly the most miserable of all the miserable dwelling-places of the +Royal Family. It seemed to be nobody's business to make any preparation +for the reception of the Queen and her entourage. The rooms were dirty +and unwarmed, and the corridors were freezing. And to the horrors of +this damp, unsavoury barrack was added Mrs. Schwellenberg, the German +she-dragon who had done her best to make Fanny Burney's life unendurable +during the previous three years. Formerly Fanny had dwelt upon the +ill-treatment she had received at the hands of this old harridan; +but now she only refers to her as an additional element of casual +discomfort. The odious creature is “so oppressed between her spasms and +the house's horrors, that the oppression she inflicted ought perhaps +to be pardoned. It was, however, difficult enough to bear,” she adds. +“Harshness, tyranny, dissension, and even insult seemed personified. I +cut short details upon this subject--they would but make you sick.” + +Truly little Miss Burney earned her wages at this time. The dilapidated +palace was only rendered habitable by the importation of a cartload of +sandbags, which were as strategically distributed for the exclusion of +the draughts as if they were the usual defensive supply of a siege. But +even this ingenious device failed to neutralise the Arctic rigours of +the place. The providing of carpets for some of the bare floors of the +bedrooms and passages was a startling innovation; but eventually it was +carried out. An occasional set of curtains also was smuggled into this +frozen fairy palace, and a sofa came now and again. + +But in spite of all these auxiliaries to luxury--in spite, too, of Mrs. +Schwellenberg's having locked herself into her room, forbidding any one +to disturb her--the dreariness and desolation of the December at Kew +must have caused Miss Burney to think with longing of the comforts of +her father's home in St. Martin's Street and of the congenial atmosphere +which she breathed during her numerous visits to the Thrales' solid +mansion at Streatham. + +[Illustration: 0035] + +The condition of the King was becoming worse, and early whispers of +the necessity for a Regency grew louder. It was understood that Mrs. +Fitzherbert would be made a duchess! Everybody outside the palace sought +to stand well in the estimation of the Prince of Wales, and Pitt was +pointed out as a traitor to his country because he did his best +to postpone the Comus orgy which every one knew would follow the +establishing of a Regency. The appointment of the Doctors Willis was +actually referred to as a shocking impiety, suggesting as it did a +wicked rebellion against the decree of the Almighty, Who, according to +Burke, had hurled the monarch from his throne. There were, however, some +who did not regard Mr. Burke as an infallible judge on such a point, and +no one was more indignant at the mouthings of the rhetorician than Miss +Burney. But it seemed as if the approach of the Regency could no longer +be retarded. The Willises were unable to certify to any improvement +in the condition of the King during the month of January, 1789. It was +really not until he had that chase after Fanny Burney in Kew Gardens +that a change for the better came about. + +Though she was greatly terrified by his affectionate salutation, +she could not but have been surprised at the sanity displayed in +the monologue that followed; for one of the first of his innumerable +questions revealed to her the fact that he was perfectly well aware of +what a trial to her patience was the odious Mrs. Schwellenberg. He asked +how she was getting on with Mrs. Schwellenberg, and he did so with a +laugh that showed her how well he appreciated her difficulties in this +direction in the past. Before she could say a word he was making light +of the Schwellenberg--adopting exactly the strain that he knew would be +most effective with Miss Burney. + +“Never mind her--never mind her! Don't be oppressed! I am your friend! +Don't let her cast you down--I know that you have a hard time of it--but +don't mind her!” + +The advice and the tone in which it was given--with a pleasant +laugh--did not seem very consistent with what she expected from a +madman. Fanny Burney appears up to that moment to have been under the +impression that the King and Queen had known nothing of the tyranny and +the insults to which she had been subjected by Mrs. Schwellenberg. But +now it was made plain to her that the eyes of the Royal couple had been +open all the time. If Macaulay had noticed the passage touching upon +this point he would have had still stronger grounds for his attack upon +their Majesties for their want of consideration for the tire-woman who +was supposed never to be tired. + +But how much more surprised must Fanny Burney have been when the King +went on to talk to her in the most cordially confidential way about her +father! It must have been another revelation to her when he showed how +fully he realised the ambitions of Dr. Burney. He asked her regarding +the progress of the _History of Music_, at which Dr. Burney had been +engaged for several years, and this gave him a chance of getting +upon his favourite topic, the music of Handel. But when he began to +illustrate some of his impressions on this fruitful theme by singing +over the choruses of an oratorio or two--perhaps such trifles as “All we +like Sheep,” or “Lift up your Heads,” or the “Hallelujah”--he must have +gone far toward neutralising the good opinion she had formed as to his +sanity. Fortunately the attendant doctors interposed at this point; but +the fact that the distinguished amateur suffered their adverse criticism +proves to posterity that the King was even more good-natured than he had +been painted by Miss Burney. + +On then he went to talk of the subject which must never have been far +from Dr. Burney's heart--the Mastership of the King's Band: “Your father +ought to have had the post, and not that little poor musician Parsons, +who was not fit for it,” he cried. “But Lord Salisbury used your father +very ill in that business, and so he did me! However, I have dashed +out his name, and I shall put your father's in--as soon as I get loose +again. What has your father got at last? Nothing but that poor thing at +Chelsea! Oh, fie! fie! But never mind! I will take care of him--I will +do it myself!” + +Could he have given the devoted daughter of Dr. Burney a more emphatic +proof of his complete recovery to sanity than this? Why, it would have +convinced Dr. Burney himself! + +Alas! although the King may have been very resolute at the moment--he +had just been making out a list of new officers of State, and was ready +to show her that the name of her father's enemy, Lord Salisbury, was not +to be found in it, and he assured her that in future he would rule with +a rod of iron--yet before he returned to his ordinary way of life he +must have mislaid his list, for poor Dr. Burney remained at his post of +organist of Chelsea Hospital. He never attained to the place which +he coveted and for which his daughter was sent to five years' Royal +servitude, and (incidentally) to achieve for herself that immortality +as a chronicler which would certainly never have been won by her as a +novelist. + +But the King did not confine his conversation to the one topic which he +knew was of greatest interest to her. He spoke of Mrs. Delany, who had +been the means of introducing Fanny to the Royal circle; and he referred +to the ill-treatment which he had received at the hands of one of his +pages; but this was the only passage that savoured of unkindness, and +the chronicler is unable to do more than hope that the conduct of the +pages was one of His Majesty's delusions. Then, with what seems to us to +be consummate adroitness, he put some questions to her which she could +not but answer. “They referred to information given to him in his +illness from various motives, but which he suspected to be false, and +which I knew he had reason to suspect,” Miss Burney writes. “Yet was it +most dangerous to set anything right, as I was not aware what might be +the views of their having been stated wrong. I was as discreet as I knew +how to be, and I hope I did no mischief: but this was the worst part of +the dialogue.” + +We can quite believe that it was, and considering that it was the part +of the dialogue which was most interesting to the King, we think that +Miss Burney was to be congratulated upon the tact she displayed in her +answers. She did not cause the King to be more perturbed than he was +when waxing indignant over the conduct of his pages; and there was no +need for Dr. Willis to interfere at this point, though he did a little +later on. Then submitting with the utmost docility to the control of +his excellent attendant, and with another exhortation not to pay any +attention to the whims of the Schwellenberg, the gracious gentleman +kissed her once more on the cheek and allowed her to take her departure. + +So ended this remarkable adventure in Kew Gardens. One can picture +Fanny Burney flying to tell the Queen all that had occurred--to repeat +everything that her discretion permitted her of the conversation; and +one has no difficulty in imagining the effect upon Queen Charlotte +of all that she narrated; but it seems rather hard that from Mrs. +Schwellenberg should have been withheld the excellent advice given by +the King to Miss Burney respecting the German virago. + +It would have been impossible either for Fanny Burney or the Queen +to come to any conclusion from all that happened except one that was +entirely satisfactory to both. King George III was undoubtedly on the +high road to recovery, and subsequent events confirmed this opinion. It +really seemed that the interview with the author of _Evelina_ marked the +turning-point in his malady at this time. Every day brought its record +of improvement, and within a fortnight the dreaded Regency Bill, which +had been sent up to the Lords, was abandoned. On March 1st there +were public thanksgivings in all the churches, followed by such an +illumination of London as had not been seen since the great fire. The +scene at Kew is admirably described by Miss Burney, who had written some +congratulatory lines to be offered by the Princess Amelia to the King. A +great “transparency” had been painted by the Queen's order, representing +the King, Providence, Health, and Britannia--a truly British +tableau--and when this was hung out and illuminated the little Princess +“went to lead her papa to the front window.” Then she dropped on her +knees and gave him the “copy of verses,” with the postscript: + + The little bearer begs a kiss + + From dear papa for bringing this. + +The “dear papa” took his dear child in his arms, and held her close to +him for some time. Nothing could have been more charmingly natural and +affecting. For such a picture of Royalty at home we are indebted to +Fanny Burney, and, face to face with it, we are selfish enough to feel +grateful to Dr. Burney for having given his daughter for five years +to discharge a humble duty to her Sovereign and an immortal one to her +fellow-countrymen, who have read her Diary and placed it on a shelf +between Pepys and de Gramont. + + + + +A COMEDY IN ST. MARTIN'S STREET + +DR BURNEY was giving a “command” party at his house in St. Martin's +Street, Leicester Fields--the house which Sir Isaac Newton did +once inhabit, and which was still crowned with the most celebrated +observatory in Europe. In the early years of his musical career he had +had a patron, Mr. Fulk Greville, who had done a great deal for him, +and in later days he had never quite forgotten this fact, although +Dr. Burney had climbed high on the professional as well as the social +ladder, and was better known in the world than Mr. Greville himself. He +had become quite intimate with many great persons and several curious +ones. It is uncertain whether Mr. Greville regarded Dr. Johnson as +belonging to the former or the latter class, but at any rate he had +heard a great deal about Dr. Johnson, and did not think that, provided +he took every reasonable precaution, any harm could come to himself from +meeting such a notability. He accordingly instructed Dr. Burney to bring +him and Johnson together, and Burney promised to do so. Before the day +for this meeting was fixed Mrs. Greville--who, by the way, was Fanny +Burney's godmother--had signified her intention of viewing the huge +person also, and of bringing her daughter, the exquisite Mrs. Crewe, to +attend the promised exhibition of genius in bulk. + +Of course Dr. Johnson was ready to lend himself to any plan that might +be devised to increase the circumference of his circle of admirers, and +besides, this Mr. Fulk Greville was a descendant of the friend of Sir +Philip Sidney, and had large possessions, as well as a magnificent +country seat, and altogether he would make a most desirable listener; so +he agreed to come to the party to be inspected by the Greville family. +Burney, however, wishing, as every responsible proprietor of a menagerie +should wish, to be on the safe side and exhibit his bear under the eye +and the controlling influence of his favourite keeper, invited Mr. and +Mrs. Thrale to the party. + +These were to be the “principals” in the comedy of this entertainment; +and for the subordinates he selected his married daughter and her +husband--both admirable musicians--Mr. Davenant, Mr. Seward, and a +certain Italian musician, a vocalist as well as a performer on the +violin and that new instrument which was at first called the fortepiano, +then the pianoforte, and later on simply the piano. This person's name +was Gabrielli Piozzi. + +Such were the harmonious elements which Dr. Burney proposed to bring +together for the gratification of Mr. Fulk Greville and his wife. Mr. +Greville was an amateur of some little capacity, and he had certainly at +one time been greatly interested in music. He had paid £300 to Burney's +master, the celebrated Dr. Arne, who composed in the masque of “Alfred” + the rousing anthem known as “Rule Britannia,” for the cancelling of +Burney's indentures as an apprentice to the “art of musick,” and had +taken the young man into his own house in a capacity which may best be +described as that of entertaining secretary. Dr. Burney may therefore +have thought in his wisdom that, should Johnson be in one of his +bearish moods and feel disinclined to exhibit his parts of speech to +Mr. Greville, the latter would be certain of entertainment from the +musicians. This showed forethought and a good working knowledge of Dr. +Johnson. But in spite of the second string to the musician's bow +the party was a fiasco--that is, from the standpoint of a social +entertainment; it included one incident, however, which made it the most +notable of the many of the Burney parties of which a record remains. + +And what records there are available to any one interested in the +entertainments given by Dr. Burney and his charming family at that +modest house of theirs, just round the corner from Sir Joshua Reynolds' +larger establishment in Leicester Fields! Hundreds of people who +contributed to make the second half of the eighteenth century the most +notable of any period so far as literature and the arts were concerned, +since the spacious days of Elizabeth, were accustomed to meet together +informally at this house, and to have their visits recorded for all ages +to muse upon. To that house came Garrick, not to exhibit his brilliance +as a talker before a crowd of admirers, but to entertain the children +of the household with the buffooning that never flagged, and that +never fell short of genius in any exhibition. He was the delight of the +schoolroom. Edmund Burke and his brother, both fond of conversation when +oratory was not available, were frequently here; Reynolds came with +many of his sitters, and found fresh faces for his canvas among his +fellow-guests; and with him came his maiden sister, feeling herself more +at home with the simple Burney circle than she ever did with the company +who assembled almost daily under her brother's roof. Nollekens, the +sculptor; Colman, the dramatist and theatre manager, who was obliged to +run away from London to escape the gibes which were flung at him from +every quarter when Goldsmith's _She Stoops to Conquer_, which he had +done his best to make a failure, became the greatest success of the +year; Cumberland, the embittered rival of Goldsmith, who was the person +who gave the solitary hiss during the first performance of the same +play, causing the timid author to say to the manager on entering the +playhouse, “What is that, sir--pray, what is that? Is it a hiss?” To +which Colman replied, “Psha! sir, what signifies a squib when we have +been sitting on a barrel of gunpowder all night?” + +These were among the notabilities; and the “curiosities” were quite as +numerous. The earliest of Arctic voyagers, Sir Constantine Phipps, who +later became Lord Mulgrave, put in an appearance at more than one of the +parties; and so did Omai, the “gentle savage” of the poet Cowper, who +was brought by Captain Cook from the South Seas in the ship on which +young Burney was an officer. The sisters, who, of course, idolised the +sailor, sat open-mouthed with wonder to hear their brother chatting away +to Omai in his native language. Upon another occasion came Bruce, the +Abyssinian traveller, who told the story of how steaks were cut from the +live ox when needed by the inhabitants of one region. He was immensely +tall, as were some of his stories; but though extremely dignified, he +did not object to a practical joke. Another person of great stature who +visited the Burneys was the notorious Count Orloff, the favourite of the +Empress Catherine of Russia; and from the letters of one of the young +people of the household one has no difficulty in perceiving with what +interest he was regarded by the girls, especially since the report +reached them that he had personally strangled his imperial master at the +instigation of his imperial mistress. + +These are but, a few names out of the many on the Burneys' visiting +list. Of course, as regards musical artists, the house was the +rendezvous of the greatest in London. While the opera-house in the +Haymarket was open there was a constant flow of brilliant vocalists to +these shores, and the young people had many opportunities of becoming +acquainted with the ignorance, the capriciousness, the affectations, and +the abilities which were to be found associated with the lyric stage in +the eighteenth century, as they are in the twentieth. Among the prime +donne who sang for the Burneys were the Agujari--a marvellous performer, +who got fifty pounds for every song she sang at the Pantheon--and her +great but uncertain rival, Gabrielli. The former, according to Mozart, +who may possibly be allowed to be something of a judge, had a vocal +range which was certainly never equalled by any singer before or after +his time. She won all hearts and a great deal of money during her visit +to London, and she left with the reputation of being the most marvellous +and most rapacious of Italians. Gabrielli seems to have tried to make up +by capriciousness what she lacked in expression. Her voice was, so far +as can be gathered from contemporary accounts, small and thin. But by +judiciously disappointing the public she became the most widely talked +of vocalist in the country. Then among the men were the simple and +gracious Pacchierotti--who undoubtedly became attached to Fanny +Burney--Rauzzini, and Piozzi. + +[Illustration: 0049] + +The Burneys' house was for years the centre of the highest intellectual +entertainment to be found in London, and the tact of the head of the +household, and the simple, natural manners of his daughters, usually +succeeded in preventing the intrusion of a single inharmonious note, in +spite of the fact that a Welsh harpist named Jones had once been among +the visitors. + +But upon the occasion of this “command” party, when Greville was to meet +Johnson, and the latter had dressed himself with that extreme care which +we suspect meant that he tied up his hose, and put on a wig the front of +which had not yet been burnt away by coming in contact with his lighted +candle, Burney's tact overreached itself. Mr. Greville may have felt +that the Thrales had no business to be of the party, or Johnson may have +gained the impression that Burney's old patron was anxious to play the +same part, in an honorary sort of way, in regard to himself. At any +rate, he refused to be drawn out to exhibit his conversational powers +to a supercilious visitor; and after a brief space of time he turned his +back upon every one and his face to the fire, and there he sat, greatly +to the discomfiture, no doubt, of his host. In a very short time a gloom +settled down upon the whole party. Mr. Thrale, stiff and reserved, was +not the man to pull things together. He sat mute on his chair, making no +advance toward Mr. Greville, and Mr. Greville had probably his chin in +the air, having come to the conclusion that Dr. Johnson's powers as a +conversationalist had been greatly overrated by rumour. + +It was when all hope of sociability had vanished that Dr. Burney, +who, when a church organist, may have had occasion to cover up the +shortcomings of the clergyman by a timely voluntary, begged Signor +Piozzi to oblige the company with a song. But Piozzi was a forlorn hope. +He was the last man in the world to save the situation. Had he been a +vocalist of the calibre of Pacchierotti he could have made no headway +against the funereal gloom that had settled down upon the party. + +Piozzi had a sweet and highly trained voice, though some years earlier +he had lost its best notes, and he sang with exquisite expression; +but when playing his own accompaniment, with his back turned to his +audience, he was prone to exaggerate the sentiment of the music until +sentiment became lost in an exuberance of sentimentality. + +This style of singing is not that to which any one would resort in order +to dissipate a sudden social gloom. As the singer went on the gloom +deepened. + +It was just at this moment that one of those ironic little imps that +lurk in wainscot nooks looking out for an opportunity to influence an +unconscious human being to an act which the little demon, seeing the +end of a scene of which mortals only see the beginning, regards with +sardonic glee, whispered something in the ear of Mrs. Thrale, and in +an instant, in obedience to its prompting, she had left her chair and +stolen behind the singer at the piano. Raising her hands and turning +up her eyes in imitation of Piozzi, she indulged in a piece of mimicry +which must have shocked every one in the room except the singer, who had +his back to her, and Dr. Johnson, who, besides being too short-sighted +to be able to see her, was gazing into the grate. + +No doubt the flippant little lady felt that a touch of farcical fun +was the very thing needed to make the party go with a snap; but such +flagrant bad taste as was involved in the transaction was more than +Dr. Burney could stand. Keeping his temper marvellously well in hand, +considering his provocation, he went gently behind the gesticulating +woman and put a stop to her fooling. Shaking his head, he whispered in a +“half joke whole earnest” way: + +“Because, madam, you have no ear yourself for music, will you destroy +the attention of all who, in that one point, are otherwise gifted?” + +Or words to that effect, it might be safe to add, for the phrases as +recorded in the diary of one of his daughters are a trifle too academic +for even Dr. Burney to have whispered on the spur of the moment. But he +certainly reproved the lady, and she took his remonstrance in good part, +and showed herself to be admirably appreciative of the exact pose to +assume in order to save the situation. She went demurely to her chair +and sat there stiffly, and with the affectation of a schoolgirl who has +been admonished for a fault and commanded to take a seat in silence and +apart from the rest of the class. It must be apparent to every one that +this was the precise attitude for her to strike in the circumstances, +and that she was able to perceive this in a rather embarrassing moment +shows that Mrs. Thrale was quite as clever as her friends made her out +to be. + +But regarding the incident itself, surely the phrase, “the irony of +fate,” was invented to describe it. A better illustration of the sport +of circumstance could not be devised, for in the course of time the +lively little lady, who had gone as far as any one could go in making a +mock of another, had fallen as deep in love with the man whom she mocked +as ever Juliet did with her Romeo. She found that she could not live +without him, and, sacrificing friends, position, and fortune, she threw +herself into his arms, and lived happy ever after. + +The conclusion of the first scene in this saturnine comedy which was +being enacted in the drawing-room in that house in St. Martin's Street, +was in perfect keeping with the _mise-en-scène_ constructed by Fate, +taking the rôle of Puck. It is admirably described in the diary of +Charlotte Burney. She wrote that Mr. Greville--whom she nicknamed “Mr. +Gruel”--assumed “his most supercilious air of distant superiority” and +“planted himself immovable as a noble statue upon the hearth, as if a +stranger to the whole set.” + +By this time Dr. Johnson must have had enough of the fire at which +he had been sitting, and we at once see how utterly hopeless were the +social relations at this miserable party when we hear that the men “were +so kind and considerate as to divert themselves by making a fire-screen +to the whole room.” But Dr. Johnson, having thoroughly warmed himself, +was now in a position to administer a rebuke to the less fortunate ones, +and, when nobody would have imagined that he had known the gentlemen +were in the room, he said that “if he was not ashamed he would keep the +fire from the ladies too.” + +“This reproof (for a reproof it certainly was, although given in a very +comical, dry way) was productive,” Charlotte adds, “of a scene as good +as a comedy, for Mr. Suard tumbled on to a sopha directly, Mr. Thrale on +to a chair, Mr. Davenant sneaked off the premises, seemingly in as great +a fright and as much confounded as if he had done any bad action, and +Mr. Gruel being left solus, was obliged to stalk off.” + +A more perfect description of the “curtain” to the first act of this, +“as good as a comedy,” could not be imagined. In every scene of this +memorable evening the mocking figure of an impish Fate can be discerned. +There was the tactful and urbane Dr. Burney anxious to gratify his old +patron by presenting to him the great Dr. Johnson, and at the same time +to show on what excellent terms he himself was with the family of the +wealthy brewer, Mr. Thrale. Incidentally he has caused Johnson to put +himself to the inconvenience of a clean shirt and a respectable wig; +and, like a thoughtful general, lest any of his plans should fall short +of fulfilment, he has invited an interesting vocalist to cover up the +retreat and make failure almost impossible! + +Dr. Burney could do wonders by the aid of his tact and urbanity, but he +is no match for Fate playing the part of Puck. Within an hour Johnson +has disappointed him and become grumpy--the old bear has found the buns +to be stale; Mr. Greville, the patron, is in a patronising mood, and +becomes stiff and aloof because Johnson, secure with his pension, +resents it; Mrs. Thrale, anxious to do her best for Burney, and at the +same time to show Mrs. Greville and her fine daughter how thoroughly +at home she is in the house and how delicate is her sense of humour, +strikes an appallingly false note, and only saves herself by a touch of +cleverness from appearing wholly ridiculous. This is pretty well for the +opening scenes, but the closing catastrophe is not long delayed. The men +huddle themselves together in stony silence; and they are reproved for +impoliteness by--whom? Dr. Johnson, the man who has studied boorishness +and advanced it to a place among the arts--the man who calls those who +differ from him dolts and fools and rascals--the man whose manners at +the dinner table are those of the sty and trough--the man who walks +about the streets ungartered and unclean--this is the man who has the +effrontery to rebuke for their rudeness such gentlemen as Mr. Fulk +Greville, Mr. Seward, and Mr. Thrale! Puck can go no further. Down comes +the curtain when one gentleman collapses upon a “sopha,” another into a +chair, a third sneaks off like a culprit, and the fourth stalks off with +an air of offended dignity! + +It might be thought that the imp of mischief who had assumed the control +of this evening's entertainment would be satisfied at the result of his +pranks so far. Nothing of the sort. He was only satisfied when he +had made a match between the insignificant figure who was playing the +musical accompaniment to his pranks and the lady who thought that his +presence in the room was only justifiable on the ground that he made an +excellent butt for her mockery! + +And the funniest part of the whole comedy is to be found in the fact +that the pair lived happy ever after! + +The extraordinary influence which Boswell has had upon almost every +student of the life of the latter half of the eighteenth century is +shown in a marked way by the general acceptance of his view--which it is +scarcely necessary to say was Johnson's view--of the second marriage of +Mrs. Thrale. We are treating Boswell much more fairly than he treated +Mrs. Thrale when we acknowledge at once that his opinion was shared by a +considerable number of the lady's friends, including Dr. Burney and +his family. They were all shocked when they heard that the widow of +the Southwark brewer had married the Italian musician, Signor Gabrielli +Piozzi. Even in the present day, when one might reasonably expect +that, the miserable pettiness of Boswell's character having been made +apparent, his judgment on most points would be received with a smile, he +is taken very seriously by a good many people. It has long ago been made +plain that Boswell was quite unscrupulous in his treatment of every one +that crossed his path or made an attempt to interfere with the aim of +his life, which was to become the biographer of Johnson. The instances +of his petty malevolence which have come to light within recent years +are innumerable. They show that the opinion which his contemporaries +formed of him was absolutely correct. We know that he was regarded as a +cur who was ever at Johnson's heels, and took the insults of the great +man with a fawning complacency that was pathetically canine. He was +daily called a cur. “Oh, no,” said Goldsmith, “he is not a cur, only a +burr; Tom Davies flung him at Johnson one day as a joke, and he stuck to +him ever since”--a cur, and an ape and a spy and a Branghton--the last +by Dr. Johnson himself in the presence of a large company, that included +the creator of the contemptible Mr. Branghton. (The incident was not, +however, recorded by Mr. Boswell himself.) But as the extraordinary +interest in his _Life of Johnson_ began to be acknowledged, the force of +contemporary opinion gradually dwindled away, until Boswell's verdicts +and Boswell's inferences found general acceptance; and even now +Goldsmith is regarded as an Irish _omadhaum_, because Boswell did his +best to make him out to be one, and Mrs. Thrale is thought to have +forfeited her claims to respect because she married Signor Piozzi. + +People forget the origin of Boswell's malevolence in both cases. He +detested Goldsmith because Goldsmith was a great writer, who was capable +of writing a great biography of Johnson, with whom he had been on the +most intimate terms long before Tom Davies flung his burr at Johnson; he +hated Baretti and recorded--at the sacrifice of Johnson's reputation for +humanity--Johnson's cynical belittling of him, because he feared that +Baretti would write _the_ biography; he was spiteful in regard to Mrs. +Thrale because she actually did write something biographical about +Johnson. + +The impudence of such a man as Boswell writing about “honest Dr. +Goldsmith” is only surpassed by his allusions to the second marriage of +Mrs. Thrale. He was a fellow-guest with Johnson at the Thrales' house in +1775, and he records something of a conversation which he says occurred +on the subject of a woman's marrying some one greatly beneath her +socially. “When I recapitulate the debate,” he says, “and recollect what +has since happened, I cannot but be struck in a manner that delicacy +forbids me to express! While I contended that she ought to be treated +with inflexible steadiness of displeasure, Mrs. Thrale was all for +mildness and forgiveness and, according to the vulgar phrase, making the +best of a bad bargain.” This was published after the second marriage. +What would be thought of a modern biographer who should borrow a little +of Boswell's “delicacy,” and refer to a similar incident in the same +style? + +In his own inimitable small way Boswell was for ever sneering at Mrs. +Thrale. Sometimes he did it with that scrupulous delicacy of which an +example has just been given; but he called her a liar more than once +with considerable indelicacy, and his readers will without much trouble +come to the conclusion that his indelicacy was preferable to his +delicacy--it certainly came more natural to him. He was small and mean +in all his ways, and never smaller or meaner than in his references to +Mrs. Thrale's second marriage. + +But, it must be repeated, he did not stand alone in regarding her union +with Piozzi as a _mésalliance_. Dr. Burney was shocked at the thought +that any respectable woman would so far forget herself as to marry +a musician, and his daughter Fanny wept remorseful tears when she +reflected that she had once been the friend of a lady who did not shrink +from marrying a foreigner and a Roman Catholic--more of the irony of +Fate, for Fanny Burney was herself guilty of the same indiscretion later +on: she made a happy marriage with a Roman Catholic foreigner, who +lived on her pension and her earnings. Dr. Johnson was brutal when +the conviction was forced upon him that he would no longer have an +opportunity of insulting a lady who had treated him with incredible +kindness, or the guests whom he met at her table. Upon one of the last +occasions of his dining at Mrs. Thrale's house at Streatham, a gentleman +present--an inoffensive Quaker--ventured to make a remark respecting the +accuracy with which the red-hot cannon-balls were fired at the Siege of +Gibraltar. Johnson listened for some time, and then with a cold sneer +said, “I would advise you, sir, never to relate this story again. You +really can scarce imagine how very poor a figure you make in the telling +of it.” Later on he took credit to himself for not quarrelling with his +victim when the latter chose to talk to his brother rather than to the +man who had insulted him. Yes, it can quite easily be understood that +Johnson should look on the marriage as a sad _mésalliance_, and possibly +it is fair to assume from the letter which he wrote to the lady that he +felt hurt when he heard that it was to take place. + +Mrs. Thrale wrote to tell him that she meant to marry Piozzi, and +received the following reply: + +“Madam,--If I interpret your letter right, you are ignominiously +married; if it is yet undone, let us once more talk together. If +you have abandoned your children and your religion, God forgive your +wickedness; if you have forfeited your fame and your country, may your +folly do no further mischief!” + +Possibly the lady may have gathered from the hint or two conveyed +to her, with Boswellian delicacy, in this letter, that Johnson was +displeased with her. At any rate, she replied, declining to continue the +correspondence. + +In her letter she summed up the situation exactly as a reasonable +person, acquainted with all the facts, and knowing something of the +first husband, would do. + +“The birth of my second husband is not meaner than that of my first,” + she wrote; “his sentiments are not meaner; his profession is not meaner; +and his superiority in what he professes acknowledged by all mankind. It +is want of fortune, then, that is ignominious; the character of the man +I have chosen has no other claim to such an epithet. The religion to +which he has always been a zealous adherent, will, I hope, teach him to +forgive insults he has not deserved; mine will, I hope, enable [me] +to bear them at once with dignity and patience. To hear that I have +forfeited my fame is indeed the greatest insult I ever yet received. My +fame is as unsullied as snow, or I should think it unworthy of him who +must henceforth protect it.” + +This brought the surly burly mass of offended dignity to his proper +level; but still he would not offer the lady who had been his +benefactress for twenty years an apology for his brutality. He had the +presumption to offer his advice instead--advice and the story (highly +appropriate from his point of view) of Mary Queen of Scots and the +Archbishop of St. Andrews. He advised her to remain in England--he would +not relinquish his room in her house and his place at her table without +a struggle--as her rank would be higher in England than in Italy, and +her fortune would be under her own eye. The latter suggestion was a +delicate insult to Piozzi. + +Mrs. Piozzi, as she then became, showed that she esteemed this piece of +presumption, under the guise of advice, at its true value. Immediately +after her marriage she went abroad with her husband, though eventually +she settled with him in England. + +Now, most modern readers will, we think, when they have become +acquainted with the whole story of Mrs. Thrale's life, arrive at the +conclusion that it was her first marriage that was the _mésalliance_, +not her second. + +[Illustration: 0065] + +Henry Thrale was a man of humble origin--a fact that revealed itself +almost daily in his life--and he was incapable of loving any one except +himself. He certainly never made a pretence of devotion to his wife, and +it is equally certain that, although she did more for him than any other +woman would have done, she never loved him. It might be going too far, +considering the diversity of temperament existing among womankind, to +assert that he was incapable of being loved by any woman; but beyond +a doubt he was not a lovable man. He was a stiff, dignified, morose, +uncongenial man, and he was a Member of Parliament into the bargain. +What could a pretty, lively, brilliant girl of good family see in such a +man as Thrale to make her love him? She never did love him--at times she +must have detested him. But she married him, and it was a lucky day +for him that she did so. Twice she saved him from bankruptcy, and three +times she induced his constituents, who thoroughly hated him, to return +him to Parliament as their representative. He never did anything in +Parliament, and he did little out of it that was worth remembering. It +is customary to make large allowances for a man of business who finds +that his wealth and a charming wife serve as a passport into what is +called society, though latterly such men do not stand in need of such +a favour being shown to them. But if a man betrays his ignorance of +certain social usages--not necessarily refinements--his friends excuse +him on the ground that he is a first-rate business man. Thrale, however, +was unworthy of such a title. He inherited a great scientific business, +but he showed himself so incapable of appreciating the methods by which +it had been built up, that he brought himself within a week or two of +absolute ruin by listening to a clumsy adventurer who advocated the +adoption of a system of adulteration of his beer that even a hundred +and fifty years ago would have brought him within sight of a criminal +prosecution. + +His literary wife, by her clever management, aided by the money of her +mother and of sundry of her own, not her husband's, friends, succeeded +in staving off the threatened disaster. But the pig-headed man did not +accept the lesson which one might imagine he would have learned. Seeing +the success that crowned other enterprises of the same character as his +own, he endeavoured to emulate this success, not by the legitimate way +of increasing his customers, but by the idiotic plan of over-production. +He had an idea that in the multiplying of the article which he had to +sell he was increasing his business. Once again he was helped from the +verge of ruin by his literary wife. + +He must have been a dreadful trial to her, and to a far-seeing manager +whom he had--a man named Perkins. Of course it was inevitable that the +force of character possessed by this Mr. Perkins must eventually prevail +against the dignified incompetence of the proprietor. The inevitable +happened, and the name of Perkins has for more than a hundred years been +bracketed with Barclay as a going concern, while the name of Thrale has +vanished for ever from “the Borough.” + +It was this Mr. Perkins who, when the brewery was within five minutes of +absolute disaster, displayed the tactics of a great general in the face +of an implacable enemy, and saved the property. As a reward for his +services his master authorised the presentation to him of the sum of +a hundred pounds. His master's wife, however, being a more generous +assessor of the value of the man's ability, ventured to present double +the sum, together with a silver tea-service for Mrs. Perkins; but she +did so in fear and trembling, failing to summon up sufficient courage to +acquaint her husband with her extravagance until further concealment was +impossible. She was so overjoyed at his sanctioning the increase that +she at once wrote to her friends acquainting them with this evidence of +his generosity. + +This episode was certainly the most stirring in the history of Thrale's +brewery. The Gordon rioters had been terrorising London for several +days, burning houses in every direction, as well as Newgate and another +prison, and looting street after street. They had already overthrown one +brewery, and they found the incident so fascinating that they marched +across the bridge to the Southwark concern, raising the cry that Thrale +was a Papist. The Thrales were at this time sojourning at Bath, and +were in an agony of suspense regarding their property. They had left +Dr. Johnson comfortably ensconced at their Streatham house in order that +they might learn in dignified language how things were going on. + +This is Johnson's thrilling account of the incident: + +“What has happened to your house you all know. The harm is only a few +butts of beer, and I think you may be sure that the danger is over. Pray +tell Mr. Thrale that I live here, and have no fruit, and if he does not +interpose am not likely to have much; but I think he might as well give +me a little as give all to the gardener.” + +There was a double catastrophe threatening, it would appear: the burning +of the brewery and the shortage in the supply of Dr. Johnson's peaches. + +This is how Mrs. Thrale describes the situation: + +“Nothing but the astonishing presence of mind shewed by Perkins in +amusing the mob, with meat and drink and huzzas, till Sir Philip +Jennings Clerke could get the troops, and pack up the counting-house, +bills, bonds etc. and carry them, which he did, to Chelsea College for +safety, could have saved us from actual undoing. The villains _had_ +broke in, and our brew-house would have blazed in ten minutes, when +a property of £150,000 would have been utterly lost, and its once +flourishing possessors quite undone.” + +It seems almost incredible that Johnson, living at Streatham as the +guardian of Mr. Thrale's interests, should require the lady to write to +him, begging him to thank Perkins for his heroism. But so it was. + +“Perkins has behaved like an Emperor,” she wrote, “and it is my earnest +wish and desire--command, if you please to call it so--that you will go +over to the brew-house and express _your_ sense of his good behaviour.” + +Mrs. Thrale was unreasonable. How could Johnson be expected to take any +action when he was deprived of his peaches? + +It will strike a good many modern readers of the account of this and +other transactions that if it was Perkins who saved the brewery for Mr. +Thrale, it was Mrs. Thrale who saved Perkins for the brewery. Possibly +it was her prompt gift of the silver plate to Mrs. Perkins that induced +this splendid manager to pocket the insult of the beggarly two hundred +guineas given to him by Mrs. Thrale--though this was double the amount +authorised by the “master.” Thrale never sufficiently valued the +services of Perkins. If he had had any gratitude in his composition he +would never have made Johnson one of his executors. What a trial it +must have been to the competent man of business to see Johnson lumbering +about the place with a pen behind his ear and an ink-pot suspended from +a button of his coat, getting in the way of everybody, and yet feeling +himself quite equal to any business emergency that might crop up. He +felt himself equal to anything--even to improve upon the auctioneer's +style in appraising the value of the whole concern. “Beyond the dreams +of avarice” remains as the sole classic phrase born beneath the shadow +of a brew-house. + +In the matter of the premium to Perkins, Thrale should have felt that he +had a treasure in his wife, to say nothing of all that she had done for +him upon another occasion, involving a terrible sacrifice. A quarrel had +broken out among the clerks at the brewery, which even the generalship +of Perkins was unable to mollify. Had Mrs. Thrale been an ordinary +woman she would not have jeopardised her own life and the life of her +child--her thirteenth--in her husband's interests. As it was, however, +she felt that the duty was imposed on her to settle the difficulties in +the counting-house, and she did so; but only after many sleepless nights +and the sacrifice of her child. “The men were reconciled,” she wrote, +“and my danger accelerated their reconcilement.” + +If Henry Thrale was deficient in the best characteristics of a business +man, his qualifications to shine socially can scarcely be regarded as +abundant. There were stories of his having been a gay dog in his youth, +but assuredly he and gaiety had long been strangers when he married his +wife, and upon no occasion afterwards could he be so described even by +the most indulgent of his friends; so that one rather inclines to the +belief that the dull dog must have been a dull puppy. We know what +his eldest daughter was, and we are convinced that the nature of that +priggish, dignified, and eminently disagreeable young lady was inherited +from her father. In Miss Thrale as a girl one feels that one is looking +at Henry Thrale as a boy. The only story that survives of those mythical +gay days with which he was accredited is that relating to the arrival +of the Gunnings to take London by storm. It was said that he and Murphy +thought to make these exquisite creatures the laughing-stock of the town +by introducing them to a vulgar hanger-on of Murphy, in the character of +a wealthy man of title and distinction. Possibly the two young men were +put up to play this disgraceful prank upon the Gunnings by some jealous +female associate; but however this may be, it not only failed most +ignominiously, it recoiled upon the jesters themselves, for Mrs. +Gunning, herself the sister of a nobleman, and destined to become the +mother-in-law of two dukes and the grandmother of two more--the parent +of a peeress in her own right, and an uncommonly shrewd Irishwoman into +the bargain--“smoaked,” as the slang of the period had it, the trick, +and her footman bundled the trio into the street. + +The story may be true; but as both the Gunning girls were married in +1752, and Thrale did not meet Hester Lynch Salusbury till 1763, it was +an old story then, and it was not remembered against him except by the +Duchess of Hamilton. If it represents the standard of his adolescent +wildness, we cannot but think that his youth was less meteoric than his +wife believed it to be. At any rate, we do not know much about his early +life, but we do know a great deal about his latter years, and it is +impossible to believe that his nature underwent a radical change within +a year or two of his marriage. + +He became the host of a large number of the most notable people of that +brilliant period at which he lived, and we perceive from the copious +accounts that survive of the Streatham gatherings that he was greatly +respected by all his visitors. He never said anything that was worth +recording, and he never did anything memorable beyond stopping Johnson +when the latter was becoming more than usually offensive to his +fellow-guests. He had no ear for music any more than Johnson had, and it +does not appear that he cared any more for painting, although he became +a splendid patron of Sir Joshua Reynolds, whom he commissioned to paint +several portraits of his distinguished friends for the decoration of the +library at Streatham. To his munificence in this respect the world owes +its finest portraits of Goldsmith, Burke, Garrick, the painter himself, +and Mrs. Thrale. + +The debt which we feel we owe to Thrale on this account is, however, +somewhat discounted when we learn that this enthusiastic patron of +art never paid the painter for his work. He left the pictures and the +obligation to pay for them as a legacy to his widow--and to pay for +them at more than the current rate for each into the bargain. Sir Joshua +Reynolds was as good a man of business as Thrale was an indifferent +one. At the time of his painting the portraits his price for a +three-quarter-length picture was £35, but in the course of a year or two +he felt it necessary to charge £50 for the same size, and this was the +price which the unfortunate widow had to pay for her husband's pose as +the munificent patron of the Arts. + +Men of the stamp of Thrale usually have no vices. + +They are highly respected. If they had a vice or two they would be +beloved. He had a solitary failing, but it did not win for him the +affection of any one: it was gluttony. For years of his life he gave +himself up to the coarsest form of indulgence. He was not a gourmet: he +did not aim at the refinements of the table or at those daintinesses of +cuisine which in the days of intemperate eaters and drinkers proved so +fatally fascinating to men of many virtues; no, his was the vice of the +trough. He ate for the sake of eating, unmindful of the nature of the +dish so long as it was plentiful enough to keep him employed for an hour +or two. + +The dinner-table of the famous Streatham Park must have been a spectacle +for some of the philosophers who sat round it. We know what was the food +that Johnson's soul loved, and we know how he was accustomed to partake +of it. He rioted in pork, and in veal baked with raisins, and when he +sat down to some such dainty he fed like a wild animal. He used his +fingers as though they were claws, tearing the flesh from the bone +in his teeth, and swallowing it not wholly without sound. It is not +surprising to learn that his exertions caused the veins in his forehead +to swell and the beads of perspiration to drop from his scholarly brow, +nor can any one who has survived this account of his muscular feat at +the dinner-table reasonably be amazed to hear that when so engaged, he +devoted himself to the work before him to the exclusion of every other +interest in life. He was oblivious of anything that was going on around +him. He was deaf to any remark made by a neighbour, and for himself +articulation was suspended. Doubtless the feeble folk on whom he had +been trampling in the drawing-room felt that his peculiarities of +feeding, though revolting to the squeamish, were not without a bright +side. They had a chance of making a remark at such intervals without +being gored--“gored,” it will be remembered, was the word employed by +Boswell in playful allusion to the effect of his argumentative powers. + +Thanks to the careful habits of some of the guests at this famous house +we know what fare was placed before the Gargantuan geniuses at one of +these dinners. Here is the _carte du jour_, “sufficient for twelve,” as +the cookery book says: + +“First course, soups at head and foot, removed by fish and a saddle +of mutton; second course, a fowl they call galena at head and a capon +larger than some of our Irish turkeys at foot; third course, four +different sorts of ices, pine-apple, grape, raspberry and a fourth; in +each remove there were fourteen dishes.” The world is indebted to an +Irish clergyman for these details. It will be seen that they did not +include much that could be sneered at as bordering on the kickshaw. +All was good solid English fare--just the sort to make the veins in a +gormandiser's forehead to swell and to induce the lethargy from which +Thrale suffered. He usually fell asleep after dinner; one day he failed +to awake, and he has not awakened since. + +Of course Johnson, being invariably in delicate health, was compelled to +put himself on an invalid's diet when at home. He gives us a sample of +a _diner maigre_ at Bolt Court. Feeling extremely ill, he wrote to Mrs. +Thrale that he could only take for dinner “skate, pudding, goose, and +green asparagus, and could have eaten more but was prudent.” He adds, +“Pray for me, dear Madam,”--by no means an unnecessary injunction, some +people will think, when they become aware of the details of the meal of +an invalid within a year or two of seventy. + +It was after one of the Streatham dinners that Mrs. Thrale ventured to +say a word or two in favour of Garrick's talent for light gay poetry, +and as a specimen repeated his song in _Florizel and Perdita_, and dwelt +with peculiar pleasure on this line: + +_I'd smile with the simple and dine with the poor._ + +This is Boswell's account of the matter, and he adds that Johnson cried, +“Nay, my dear lady, this will never do. Poor David! Smile with the +simple! What folly is that? And who would feed with the poor that can +help it? No, no; let me smile with the wise and feed with the rich!” + +Quite so; beyond a doubt Johnson spoke from the bottom of his +heart--nay, from a deeper depth still. + +Boswell was amazed to find that Garrick's “sensibility” as a writer was +irritated when he related the story to him, and in Mrs. Thrale's copy of +Johnson she made a note--“How odd to go and tell the man!” + +It was not at all odd that Boswell, being a professional tale-bearer and +mischief-maker, should tell the man; but it is odd that Garrick should +be irritated, the fact being that the sally was directed against a +line which he did not write. What Garrick did write was something very +different. The verse, which was misquoted, runs thus: + + That giant Ambition we never can dread; + + Our roofs are too low for so lofty a head; + + Content and sweet Cheerfulness open our door, + + They smile with the simple and feed with the poor. + +Such a muddle as was made of the whole thing can only be attributed to +the solidity of the Streatham fare. + +It was inevitable that Thrale could not continue over-eating himself +with impunity. He was warned more than once by his doctors that he was +killing himself, and yet when he had his first attack every one was +shocked. He recovered temporarily, and all his friends implored him to +cultivate moderation at the dinner-table. A touch of humour is to be +found among the details of the sordid story, in his wife's begging +Johnson--Johnson of the swollen forehead and the tokens of his +submission to the primeval curse in the eating of his bread--to try to +reason the unhappy man out of his dreadful vice. After wiping from the +front of his coat the remains of the eighth peach which he had eaten +before breakfast, or the dregs of his nineteenth cup of tea from +his waistcoat, Johnson may have felt equal to the duty. He certainly +remonstrated with Thrale. It was all to no purpose, however; he had a +second attack of apoplexy in the spring of 1780, and we hear that he was +copiously “blooded.” He recovered and went to Bath to recruit. It was +during this visit to Bath that the brewery was attacked by the Gordon +rioters. On returning to London he failed to induce his constituents to +remain faithful to him, and he continued eating voraciously for another +year. He began a week of gorging on April 1st, 1781. His wife implored +him to be more moderate, and Johnson said very wisely, “Sir, after the +denunciation of your physicians this morning, such eating is little +better than suicide.” It was all to no purpose. He survived the gorge +of Sunday and Monday, but that of Tuesday was too much for him. He was +found by his daughter on the floor in a fit of apoplexy, and died the +next morning. + +Such was the man whose memory was outraged by the marriage of his +widow with Piozzi, an Italian musician, whose ability was so highly +appreciated that his earnings, even when he had lost his voice, amounted +to £1200 a year, a sum equal to close upon £2500 of our money. And yet +Johnson had the effrontery to suggest in that letter of his to Mrs. +Thrale, which we have quoted, that she would do well to live in England, +so that her money might be under her own eye! + +The truth is that Mrs. Thrale was in embarrassed circumstances when she +married Signor Piozzi. Her worthy husband left her an annuity of £2000, +which was to be reduced by £800 in the event of her marrying again; and +also £500 for her immediate expenses. Johnson wrote to her, making +her acquainted with this fact, in order, it would seem, to allay any +unworthy suspicion which she might entertain as to the extent of her +husband's generosity. But his last will and testament cannot have wholly +dispersed the doubt into which her experience of Mr. Thrale may have +led her. For a man who had been making from £16,000 to £20,000 a year +to leave his wife only £2000 a year, with a possibility of its being +reduced to £1200, would not strike any one as being generous to a point +of recklessness. When, however, it is remembered that Thrale's wife +plucked him and his business from the verge of bankruptcy more than +once, that she bore him fourteen children, and that she lived with him +for eighteen years, all question as to the generosity of his bequest to +her vanishes. But when, in addition, it is remembered that the lady's +fortune at her marriage to Thrale amounted to £10,000, all of which he +pocketed, and that later on she brought him another £500 a year, that +it was her mother's money, added to the sum which she herself collected +personally, which saved the brewery from collapse--once again at +the sacrifice of her infant--all question even of common fairness +disappears, and the meanness of the man stands revealed. + +[Illustration: 0083] + +It was through the exertions and by the business capacity of his widow +that the brewery was sold for £135,000. She was the only one of the +trustees who knew anything definite about the value of the property, +and had she not been on the spot, that astute Mr. Perkins could have so +worked the concern that he might have been able to buy it in a year or +two for the value of the building materials. And yet when she became +involved in a lawsuit that involved the paying of £7000, she had +difficulty in persuading her daughters' trustees to advance her the +money, although the security of the mortgage which she offered for +the accommodation would have satisfied any bankers. A wretch named +Crutchley, who was one of this precious band of incompetents, on the +completion of the deed bade her thank her daughters for keeping her out +of gaol. It is not recorded that the lady replied, though she certainly +might have done so, and with truth on her side, that if her daughters +had kept her out of a gaol she had kept her daughters out of a +workhouse. She would have done much better to have gone to her friends +the Barclays, whose bank had a hundred and fifty years ago as high a +reputation for probity combined with liberality as the same concern +enjoys to-day. + +Enough of the business side of Mrs. Thrale's second marriage has +been revealed to make it plain that Piozzi was not influenced by any +mercenary motives in the transaction. On the contrary, it was he who +came to her assistance when she was in an extremity, and by the prompt +loan of £1000 extricated her from her embarrassment, and left the next +day for Italy, without having any hope of marrying her. + +Johnson's verdict on Piozzi, communicated to Miss Seward, was that +he was an ugly dog, without particular skill in his profession. +Unfortunately for this musical enthusiast and devotee to beauty, Miss +Seward met Piozzi on his return from Italy with his wife. (His excellent +control of her money had resulted in every penny of the mortgage being +paid, and of the lodgment of £1500 to their credit in the bank). And +Miss Seward, writing from Lichfield--more of the irony of Fate--in 1787, +affirmed that the great Lichfield man “did not tell me the truth when +he asserted that Piozzi was an ugly dog, without particular skill in +his profession. M. Piozzi is a handsome man in middle life, with +gentle, pleasing, unaffected manners, and with very eminent skill in his +profession. Though he has not a powerful or fine-toned voice, he sings +with transcending grace and expression. I was charmed with his perfect +expression on his instrument. Surely the finest sensibilities must +vibrate through his frame, since they breathe so sweetly through his +song.” From this verdict no person who was acquainted with Signor Piozzi +differed. Mrs. Thrale's marriage with Piozzi was as fortunate for her as +her first marriage was for Thrale. + + + + +A TRAGEDY IN THE HAYMARKET + +ABOUT half-past nine o'clock on the night of October 6th, 1769, a +tall, middle-aged gentleman named Joseph Baretti was walking up the +Hay-market. The street was probably as well lighted as any other in +London, and this is equivalent to saying that a foot passenger, by +keeping close to the windows of the shops and taking cross bearings of +the economically distributed oil lamps hung out at the corners of the +many lanes, might be able to avoid the deep channel of filth that slunk +along the margin of cobble stones. But just at this time the Haymarket +must have been especially well illuminated, for the Opera House was +in the act of discharging its audience, and quite a number of these +fashionable folk went home in their chairs, with link boys walking by +the side of the burly Irish chairmen, showing a flaring flame which left +behind it a long trail of suffocating smoke, and spluttered resin and +bitumen into the faces and upon the garments of all who were walking +within range of the illuminant. Then there was the little theatre higher +up the street, and its lamps were not yet extinguished; so that Mr. +Baretti may have felt that on the whole he was fortunate in the hour he +had chosen for his stroll to the coffee-house where he meant to sup. He +may have thought that he had a chance of coming across his friend Sir +Joshua Reynolds leaving one of the playhouses, and of being invited by +that hospitable gentleman to his house in Leicester Fields; or his still +more intimate friend Dr. Samuel Johnson, who would certainly insist on +carrying him off to the “Mitre,” unless the great man were accompanied +by that little Scotch person, James Boswell, who usually wanted him +all to himself, after he had given people a chance of seeing him in the +company of his distinguished friend, and envying him his position of +intimacy--the same position of intimacy that exists between a Duke and +his doormat. Mr. Baretti was too short-sighted to have any chance of +recognising Sir Joshua Reynolds unless he chanced to be standing under +the lamp in the portico of the playhouse, but he felt that he would have +no trouble in recognising Dr. Johnson. The latter had characteristics +that appealed to other senses than the sense of seeing, and made the act +of recognition easy enough to his intimates. + +Mr. Baretti, however, passed along the dispersing crowd, and was soon in +the dim regions of Panton Street, where pedestrians were few. But before +he had turned down this street he found his way barred by a couple of +half-drunken women. His infirmity of sight prevented his being aware of +their presence until he was almost in the arms of one of them, and +the very second that he made his sudden stop she made a change in the +details of the accident that seemed imminent and threw herself into his +arms with a yell. + +The good man was staggered for a moment, but, recovering himself, he +flung her off with an expressive word or two in the Italian tongue. She +went limply back and, being adroitly avoided by her companion, gave a +circular stagger or two and fell into the gutter with a screech. + +Baretti was hurrying on when out of the darkness of Panton Street a big +man sprang, followed quickly by two others. The first seized him by the +right arm with the oath of a bully, the others tried to trip him up, +shouting that he had killed a lady. Baretti was a powerful man and +decidedly tough. He struck at the fellow who had closed with him, and +used his feet against the attack of the others with considerable effect. +He managed to free his arm, but before he could draw his sword he +was pulled backward and would have fallen upon his head if he had not +clutched the coat of the man from whom he had freed himself. There was a +pause of a few seconds, filled up by the wild street yell of the women. +The most aggressive of the three men leapt upon the unfortunate Baretti, +but before their bodies met, gave a guttural shriek, then a groan. He +staggered past, his fingers tearing like talons at his ribs; he whirled +twice round and, gasping, fell on his knees, motionless only for a few +seconds; his hands dropped limply from his side, and he pitched forward +on his head into the gutter. + +Baretti was standing, awaiting a further attack, with a knife in his +hand, when he was seized by some of the crowd. He offered no resistance. +He seemed to be so amazed at finding himself alive as to be incapable of +taking any further action. + +“He has killed the man--stabbed him with a dagger to the very heart!” + was the cry that came from those of the crowd who were kneeling beside +the wretch in the gutter. + +“And a woman--he had slain a woman at the outset. Hold him fast. None of +us are safe this night. Have a care for the dagger, friends!” + +A sufficiency of advice was given by the excited onlookers to the men +who had encircled Baretti--one of them was clinging to him with his arms +clasped around his body--until two of the Haymarket watch hurried up, +striking right and left with their staves after the wholesome manner of +the period, and so making a way for their approach through the crowd. + +“'Tis more than a street brawl--a man has been slain--some say a woman +also,” a shopkeeper explained to them, having run bareheaded out of his +shop; his apprentice had just put up the last of the shutters. + +They had Baretti by the collar in a second, cautiously disarming him, +holding the weapon up to the nearest lamp. The blade was still wet with +blood. + +“A swinging matter this,” one of them remarked. “I can swear to the +blood. No dagger, but a knife. What man walks the streets at night with +a naked knife unless slaughter is his intent?” + +“Friends, I was attacked by three bullies, and I defended myself--that +is all,” said Baretti. He spoke English perfectly. + +“You will need to tell that to Sir John in the morning,” said one of +the watchmen. “You are apprehended in the King's name. Where is the poor +victim?” + +“There must be some of the crowd who saw how I was attacked,” said +Baretti. “They will testify that I acted in self-defence. Sirs, hear me +make an appeal to you. Out of your sense of justice--you will not see an +innocent man apprehended.” + +“The knife--who carries a bare knife in the streets unless with intent?” + said a man. + +“'Twas my fruit-knife. I never go abroad without it. I eat my fruit like +a Christian, not like a pig or an Englishman,” was the defence offered +by Baretti, who had now quite lost his temper and was speaking with his +accustomed bitterness. He usually sought to pass as an Englishman, +but he was now being arrested by the minions of the law as it was in +England. + +“Hear him! A pig of an Englishman. Those were his words! A foreign +hound. Frenchie, I'll be bound.” + +“A spy--most like a Papist. He has the hanging brow of a born Papist.” + +“He'll hang like a dog at Tyburn--he may be sure o' that.” + +“'Tis the mercy o' Heaven that the rascal was caught red-handed! Sirs, +this may be the beginning of a dreadful massacring plot against the +lives of honest and peaceful people.” + +The comments of a crowd of the period upon such an incident as the +stabbing of an Englishman by a foreigner in the streets of London can +easily be imagined. + +Even when Baretti was put into a hackney coach and driven off to Bow +Street the crowd doubtless remained talking in groups of the menace +to English freedom and true religion by the arrival of pestilent +foreigners, every man of them carrying a knife. It would be a sad +day for England when Jesuitical fruit-knives took the place of +good wholesome British bludgeons in the settlement of the ordinary +differences incidental to a Protestant people. + +It is certain that this was one of the comments of the disintegrating +crowd, and it is equally certain that Baretti commented pretty freely +to his custodians in the hackney coach upon the place occupied in +the comity of nations of that State, the social conditions of whose +metropolis made possible so gross a scandal as the arrest of a gentleman +and a scholar, solely by reason of his success in snatching his life out +of the talons of a ruffian and a bully. + +Mr. Baretti was a gentleman and a scholar whose name appears pretty +frequently in the annals of the eighteenth century, but seldom with any +great credit to himself. As a matter of fact, this dramatic episode of +the stabbing of the man in the Haymarket is the happiest with which +his name is associated. He made his most creditable appearance in the +chronicles of the period as the chief actor in this sordid drama. He +cuts a very poor figure indeed upon every other occasion when he appears +in the pages of his contemporaries, though they all meant to be kind to +him. + +He never could bear people to be kind to him, and certainly, so far as +he himself was concerned, it cannot be said that any blame attaches to +him for the persistence of his friends in this direction. He did all +that mortal man could do to discourage them, and if after the lapse of +a year or two he was still treated by some with cordiality or respect, +assuredly it was not owing to his display of any qualities that +justified their maintenance of such an attitude. + +Mr. Baretti was an eminently detestable scholar of many parts. He was as +detestable as he was learned--perhaps even more so. Learned men are +not invariably horrid, unless they are men of genius as well, and this +rarely happens. + +Baretti had no such excuse, though it must be acknowledged that his +capacity for being disagreeable almost amounted to genius. Such a +character as his is now and again met with in daily life. A man who +feels himself to be, in point of scholarly attainment, far above +the majority of men, and who sees inferiority occupying a place +of distinction while he remains neglected and, to his thinking, +unappreciated, is not an uncommon figure in learned or artistic circles. +Baretti was a disappointed man, and he showed himself to be such. He had +a grievance against the world for being constituted as it is. He had a +grievance against society. He had a grievance against his friends who +got on in the world. But the only people against whom he was really +malevolent were those who were signally and unaccountably kind to him. +He accepted their kindness, and then turned and rent them. + +Dr. Johnson met him when they were both working for the booksellers, +and when the great dictionary scheme was floated his co-operation was +welcomed. Johnson's success in life was largely due to his faculty for +discovering people who could be useful to him. It can easily be believed +that, knowing something of the scholarship of Baretti, he should +be delighted to avail himself of his help. Baretti had an intimate +knowledge of several languages and their literature; as a philologist +he was probably far superior to Johnson; and possibly Johnson knew this, +though he was doubtless too wise ever to acknowledge so much openly. +We do not hear that the relations between the two ever became strained +while the great work was in course of progress. Shortly after it was +completed Baretti returned to his native Italy, and began to reproach +Johnson for not writing to him more frequently. We have several examples +of the cheerfulness with which Johnson set about exculpating himself +from such reproaches. The letters which he wrote to him at Italy are +among the most natural that ever came from his pen. They are models of +the gossipy style which Johnson could assume without once deviating +from that dignity which so frequently became ponderous, suggesting the +dignity of the elephant rather than that of the lion. Walpole was +a master of the art of being gossipy without being dignified. But +Johnson's style was not flexible. We have not Baretti's letters +to Johnson, but the references made by the latter to some matters +communicated to him by his correspondent let us know something of how +Baretti was getting on in the land of his birth. He seems to have set +his heart upon obtaining some appointment in Italy, and his aspirations +included marriage. He was disappointed in both directions; and it would +be too much to expect that his temper was improved by these rebuffs. + +It may well be believed that he quarrelled his way through Italy. “I +have lately seen Mr. Stratico, Professor of Padua, who has told me +of your quarrel with an abbot of the Celestine Order, but had not the +particulars very ready in his memory,” Johnson wrote to him at Milan. +Any one who could quarrel with an abbot of the Celestine Order would, we +fancy, be _capable de tout_, like the prophet Habakkuk, according to the +witty Frenchman. One is not disposed to be hard upon Professor Stratico +for his shortness of memory in regard to this particular quarrel; the +strain of remembering the details of all the quarrels of Mr. Baretti +would be too great for any man. + +Of course, Dr. Johnson gave him some excellent advice. It seems that +poor Baretti had been at first so well received on his return to Italy +that he became sanguine of success in all his enterprises, and when they +miscarried he wrote very bitterly to Johnson, who replied as follows: + +“I am sorry for your disappointment, with which you seem more touched +than I should expect a man of your resolution and experience to +have been, did I not know that general truths are seldom applied to +particular occasions; and that the fallacy of our selflove extends +itself as wide as our interests or affections. Every man believes that +mistresses are unfaithful and patrons capricious; but he excepts his +own mistress and his own patron. We have all learned that greatness is +negligent and contemptuous, and that in Courts life is often languished +away in ungratified expectation; but he that approaches greatness or +glitters in a Court, imagines that destiny has at last exempted him from +the common lot.” + +It is doubtful if this excellent philosophy made the person to whom it +was addressed more amiable to his immediate entourage; nor is it likely +that he was soothed by the assurance that his “patron's weakness or +insensibility will finally do you little hurt, if he is not assisted by +your own passions.” + +“Of your love,” continued Johnson, “I know not the propriety; we can +estimate the power, but in love, as in every other passion of which hope +is the essence, we ought always to remember the uncertainty of events.” + He then hastens to add that “love and marriage are different states. +Those who are to suffer the evils together, and to suffer often for +the sake of one another, soon lose that tenderness of look, and that +benevolence of mind which arose from the participation of unmingled +pleasure and success in amusement.” + +The pleasant little cynical bark in the phrase “those that are to suffer +the evils together,” as if it referred to love and marriage, is, Malone +thinks, not Johnson's, but Baretti's. It is suggested that Johnson +really wrote “those that are to suffer the evils _of life_ together,” + and that Baretti in transcribing the letter for Boswell, purposely +omitted the words “_of life_.” It would be quite like Baretti to do +this; for he would thereby work off part of his spite against Johnson +for having given him the advice, and he would have had his own sneer +against “love and marriage,” the _fons et origo_ of his disappointment. + +But of Dr. Johnson's esteem for the attainments of Baretti there can be +no doubt. He thought that the book on Italy which he published on his +return to England was very entertaining, adding: “Sir, I know no man who +carries his head higher in conversation than Baretti. There are strong +powers in his mind. He has not, indeed, many hooks; but with what hooks +he has he grapples very forcibly.” + +[Illustration: 0099] + +It may seem rather strange after this that Baretti was never admitted to +the membership of the celebrated club. He was intimate with nearly +all the original members, but the truth remained that he was not what +Johnson called a clubbable man: he had too many hooks, not too few. + +Such was the man who was brought before Sir John Fielding, the +magistrate at Bow Street, on the morning after the tragedy, charged with +murder; and then it was that he found the value of the friendships which +he had formed in England. The first person to hasten to his side in his +extremity was Oliver Goldsmith, the man whom he had so frequently made +the object of his sarcasm, whose peculiarities he had mimicked, not in +the playful manner of Garrick or Foote, but in his own spiteful style, +with the grim humour of the disappointed man. Goldsmith it was who +opened his purse for him and got a coach for him when he was +remanded until the next day, riding by his side to the place of his +incarceration. Goldsmith was by his side when the question of bail was +discussed before Lord Mansfield. For some reason which does not require +any particular explanation, it was not thought that Goldsmith as a +bailsman would appeal irresistibly to the authorities, but the names +of Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Edmund Burke, Mr. David Garrick, and Mr. H. +Fitzherbert were submitted to Lord Mansfield, and immediately accepted. +An amusing anecdote was current regarding the few days of Baretti's +incarceration. One morning he was visited by a teacher of languages, +who begged a trifling favour of him. This was merely a letter of +recommendation to Baretti's pupils, so that the applicant might have +a chance of taking them over “when you are hanged, sir.” The fact that +this sympathetic visitor was allowed to depart without molestation makes +people doubt whether Baretti was so bad-tempered after all. He did not +assault the man. “You rascal!” he cried. “If I were not in my own room, +I would kick you downstairs directly.” + +The trial was fixed for October 20th at the Old Bailey, and a few days +before this date a number of the prisoner's friends met together to +consult as to the line which should be taken for his defence. It seems +that they were not all agreed on some points; this was only to be +expected, considering what an array of wisdom was brought together upon +the occasion of these consultations, and considering also the course +which was adopted by Dr. Johnson, who thought that the interests of the +prisoner would be advanced by getting up an academical discussion with +Burke. Johnson and Burke were notorious rivals in conversation in those +days when conversation was regarded as an art, and men and women seemed +to have plenty of leisure to talk together for the sake of talking, +and to argue together for the sake of argument, and to be rude to one +another for the sake of wit. Boswell was for ever extolling Johnson +at the expense of Burke; and indeed, so far as one can gather from his +pages, Johnson was the ruder man. + +The example that Boswell gives of his own readiness in making Goldsmith +“shut up” when he questioned Johnson's superiority to Burke in +discussion is one of the best instances of the little Scotsman's +incapacity to perceive the drift of an argument. “Is he like Burke who +winds into a subject like a serpent?” asked Goldsmith. + +“But” (said I) “Dr. Johnson is the Hercules that strangled serpents in +his cradle.” + +This repartee which Boswell gleefully records is about equal to the +reply made by one of the poets who was appealed to in the “Bab Ballads” + to say if he wrote “the lovely cracker mottoes my Elvira pulls at +supper.” It will be remembered that the poet whose name rhymes with +“supper” replied: + + “'A fool is bent upon a twig, but wise men dread a bandit,' + + Which” (the earnest inquirer said) “I felt was very wise, + + but I didn't understand it.” + +It was in regard to this consultation as to the best defence to be made +out for Baretti that Johnson admitted to have opposed Burke simply for +the sake of showing the rest of the company that he could get the better +of Burke in an argument. “Burke and I,” he said, “should have been of +one opinion if we had had no audience.” Such a confession! There was the +life of his friend Baretti trembling in the balance, and yet Johnson, +solely for the sake of “showing off,” opposed the wisdom and ingenuity +Burke exercised to save from the gallows a man whom Johnson professed to +admire! + +But if we are to believe Boswell, Johnson cared very little whether his +friend was hanged or not. As for Boswell himself, he always detested +Baretti, and is reported to have expressed the earnest hope that the +man would be hanged. However, the “consultations” went merrily on, and +doubtless contributed in some measure to a satisfactory solution of the +vexed question as to whether Johnson or Burke was the more brilliant +talker. They formed a tolerably valid excuse for the uncorking of +several bottles, and perhaps these friends of Baretti felt that even +though he should die, yet the exchange of wit in the course of these +happy evenings would live for ever in the memory of those present, so +that after all, let the worst come to the worst, Baretti should have +little cause for complaint. + +It is reported that the prisoner, upon the occasion of his receiving a +visit from Johnson and Burke, cried: “What need a man fear who holds +two such hands?” It may here be mentioned, however, that although it +was asserted that Johnson and Murphy were responsible for the line +of defence adopted at the trial, yet in after years Baretti was most +indignant that it should be suggested that credit should be given to +any one but himself for his defence; and he ridiculed the notion that +Johnson or Burke or Murphy or even Boswell--himself an aspirant to the +profession of law in which he subsequently displayed a conspicuous +lack of distinction--had anything to do with the instruction either of +solicitors or barristers on his behalf. + +At any rate, the “consultations” came to an end, and the friends of the +accused awaited the trial with exemplary patience. Mr. Boswell seems +suddenly to have become the most sympathetic of the friends; for three +days before the event he took a journey to Tyburn to witness the hanging +of several men at that place, and though it is known that the spectacle +of a hanging never lost its charm for him, yet it is generous to assume +that upon this occasion he went to Tyburn in order to qualify himself +more fully for sympathising with Baretti, should the defence assigned to +him break down. + +Another ardent sympathiser was Mr. Thomas Davies the bookseller, a +gentleman whose chief distinction in the eyes of his contemporaries +consisted--if we are to believe one of the wittiest of his +associates--in the fact that he had an exceedingly pretty wife; +but whose claim to the gratitude of coming generations lies in the +circumstance of his having introduced Boswell to Johnson. Tom Davies +was terribly cut up at the thought of the possibility of Baretti's being +sentenced to be hanged. Boswell, on the day before the trial, after +telling Johnson how he had witnessed the executions at Tyburn, and +expressing his surprise that none of the wretches seemed to think +anything of the matter, mentioned that Foote, the actor, had shown him +a letter which he had received from Tom Davies, and in which the writer +affirmed that he had not had a wink of sleep owing to his anxiety in +respect of “this sad affair of Baretti,” and begging Foote to suggest +some way by which he could be of service to the accused, adding that +should Mr. Foote be in need of anything in the pickle line, he could +strongly recommend him to an industrious young man who had lately set up +in that business. + +Strange to say, Johnson was not impressed with this marked evidence of +Mr. Davies' kind heart. + +“Ay, sir, here you have a specimen of human sympathy,” he cried. “A +friend hanged and a cucumber pickled! We know not whether Baretti or the +pickle man has kept Davies from sleep; nor does he know himself.” + +This was rather sweeping, but his dictum showed that he was rather a +poor analyser of human emotion. In the minds of the people of to-day who +read of Tom Davies' bad nights there is no manner of doubt whatever that +the sequence of his emotions was to be attributed to his intimacy with +the industrious young pickle maker. Tom had indulged rather too freely +in some of the specimens of his art presented to him by the pickler, and +the result was a melancholy night; and, being melancholy, he was led to +think of the most melancholy incident that had recently come under his +notice. When a man is full of mixed pickles he is liable to get a little +mixed, and so in the morning he attributed his miserable night to his +thoughts about Baretti, instead of knowing that his thoughts about +Baretti were the natural result of his miserable night. If he had been +acquainted with an industrious young onion merchant he might have passed +the night in tears. + +“As for his not sleeping,” said Dr. Johnson, “sir, Tom Davies is a very +great man--Tom has been on the stage, and knows how to do those things.” + +Boswell: “I have often blamed myself, sir, for not feeling for others as +sensibly as many say they do.” Johnson: “Sir, don't be duped by them any +more. You will find those very feeling people are not very ready to do +you good. They pay you by feeling.” Mr. Boswell thought that he would +do well to turn his friend from the subject under discussion, so he made +the apparently harmless remark that Foote had a great deal of humour and +that he had a singular talent of exhibiting character. But Johnson had +on him the mood not only of “the rugged Russian bear,” but also of “the +armed rhinoceros and the Hyrcan tiger.” + +“Sir, it is not a talent: it is a vice; it is what others abstain from,” + he growled. + +“Did not he think of exhibiting you, sir?” inquired the tactful Mr. +Boswell, though he knew all about Foote and Johnson long before. + +“Sir, fear restrained him,” said Johnson. “He knew I would have broken +his bones. I would have saved him the trouble of cutting off a leg: I +would not have left him a leg to cut off.” + +This brutal reference to the fact that Foote's recent accident had +compelled him to have a leg amputated should surely have suggested +to his inquisitor that he had probably been paying a visit to an +industrious young pickle maker without Tom Davies' recommendation, or +that he had partaken of too generous a helping of his favourite veal, +baked with plums, and so that he would do well to leave him alone for a +while. But no, Mr. Boswell was not to be denied. + +“Pray, sir, is not Foote an infidel?” he inquired. But as he himself +had been dining with Foote the previous day, and as he possessed no more +delicacy than a polecat, he could easily have put the question to Foote +himself. + +But Johnson would not even give the man credit for his infidelity. + +“I do not know, sir, that the fellow is an infidel,” he said; “but if he +is an infidel, he is an infidel as a dog is an infidel, that is to say, +he has never thought on the subject.” + +In another second he was talking of Buchanan, a poet, whom he praised, +and of Shakespeare, another poet, whom he condemned, winding up by +saying that there were some very fine things in Dr. Young's _Night +Thoughts_. But the most remarkable of his deliverances on this rather +memorable evening had reference to Baretti's fate. After declaring that +if one of his friends had just been hanged he would eat his dinner +every bit as heartily as if his friend were still alive.--“Why, there's +Baretti, who is to be tried for his life to-morrow,” he added; “friends +have risen up for him on every side; yet if he should be hanged, none of +them will eat a slice of plum pudding the less.” Happily the accuracy of +this tender-hearted scholar's prediction had no chance of being put to +the test. Baretti was tried and acquitted. + +Boswell gives only a few lines to an account of the trial, and fails +to mention that the prisoner declined the privilege of being tried by +a jury one half of whom should be foreigners. “It took place,” he said, +“at the awful Sessions House, emphatically called Justice Hall,” and he +affirms that “never did such a constellation of genius enlighten the Old +Bailey.” + +He mentions that Mr. Burke, Mr. Garrick, Mr. Beauclerk, and Dr. Johnson +gave evidence, the last-named being especially impressive, speaking in +a slow, deliberate, and distinct tone of voice. It seems strange +that Boswell, who was (nominally) a lawyer, when he wrote his life of +Johnson, should say nothing whatever respecting the line of defence +adopted by the friends of the prisoner upon this interesting occasion. +It might have been expected that he would dwell lovingly, as a lawyer +would certainly be pardoned for doing, upon the technical points +involved in the trial, even though he hated Baretti. For instance, it +would be interesting to learn why it was thought that the result of +the trial might mean the hanging of Baretti, when from the first it was +perfectly plain that he had acted in self-defence: not merely was he +protecting his purse, he had actually to fight for his life against an +acknowledged ruffian of the most contemptible type. In the present day +if a short-sighted man of letters--say Mr. Augustine Birrell--were to be +attacked in a dark street by three notorious scoundrels and to manage to +kill one of them by poking the ferrule end of an umbrella into his eye, +no one--not even a Conservative Attorney-General--would fancy that a +grand jury at the New Old Bailey would return a true bill against him +for the act, putting aside all question of his being found guilty and +sentenced to be hanged. And yet in Baretti's time swords were commonly +worn, and they were by no means toy weapons. Why should poor Tom Davies +have a sleepless night, owing (as he believed) to his apprehension that +his friend would be hanged in a day or two? Why was it necessary to +dazzle the “awful Sessions House” by such “a constellation of genius” as +had never before assembled in that “Hall of Justice”? + +Mr. Boswell might certainly have told us something of the actual scene +in the court, when he has devoted so much space to the ridiculous +dialogues between himself and Johnson, having more or less bearing upon +the case. The course he adopted is like laying a dinner-table with +four knives and forks and five wineglasses for every guest--in having a +constellation of genii in plush behind every chair, and then serving +a dinner of hashed mutton only. A great number of people believe that +whatever Boswell may have been, he was invariably accurate. But in this +case he does not even give a true account of the constellation of genius +to which he refers. He only says that Burke, Garrick, Beauclerk, +and Johnson were called as witnesses. He omits to say a word about +Goldsmith, who was something of a genius; or Reynolds, who was quite +a tolerable painter; or Fitzherbert, who had a wide reputation as a +politician; or Dr. Halifax, whose evidence carried certainly as much +weight as Johnson's. He does not even say a word respecting the evidence +which Johnson and the others were called on to give on behalf of +the prisoner at the bar. What is the good of telling us that the +constellation of genius had never been paralleled within the precincts +of the “emphatically called Justice Hall” if we are not made aware +of some of the flashes of their genius when they were put into the +witness-box? + +The truth is that Boswell had no sense of proportion any more than a +sense of the sublime and beautiful--or, for that matter, a sense of the +ridiculous. He was the Needy Knife Grinder--with an occasional axe of +his own--of the brilliant circle into which he crawled, holding on to +Johnson's skirts and half concealing himself beneath their capacious +flaps. He had constant stories suggested to him, but he failed to see +their possibilities. He was a knife grinder and nothing more; but at his +own trade he was admirable; he ground away patiently at his trivialities +respecting the man whom he never was within leagues of understanding, +and it is scarcely fair to reproach him for not throwing away his +grindstone, which he knew how to use, and taking to that of a diamond +cutter, which he was incapable of manipulating. But surely he might have +told us something more of the actual trial of Baretti instead of giving +us page after page leading up to the trial. + +From other sources we learn that what all the geniuses were called on to +testify to was the pacific character of Baretti, and this they were all +able to do in an emphatic manner. It would seem that it was assumed that +the prisoner, a short-sighted, middle-aged man of letters, was possessed +of all the dangerous qualities of a bloodthirsty brigand of his own +country--that he was a fierce and ungovernable desperado, who was in +the habit of prowling about the purlieus of the Haymarket to do to death +with a fruit-knife the peaceful citizens whom he might encounter. He was +a foreigner, and he had killed an Englishman with an outlandish weapon. +That seems to have been the reason there was for the apprehension, which +was very general in respect of the fate of Baretti, for it was upon +these points that his witnesses were most carefully examined. + +Goldsmith, Reynolds, and Garrick were very useful witnesses regarding +the knife. They affirmed that in carrying a fruit-knife the prisoner was +in no way departing from the recognised custom of his fellow-countrymen. +He, in common with them, was in the habit of eating a great deal of +fruit, so that the knife was a necessity with him. + +Johnson's evidence was as follows: + +“I have known Mr. Baretti a long time. He is a man of literature--a very +studious man--a man of great intelligence. He gets his living by study. +I have no reason to think he was ever disordered with liquor in his +life. A man that I have never known to be otherwise than peaceable and +a man that I take to be rather timorous. As to his eyesight, he does not +see me now, nor do I see him. I do not believe he would be capable of +assaulting anybody in the street without great provocation.” + +It cannot be denied that the reference to Baretti's imperfect sight told +upon the jury, and uttered as the words were by Johnson in his dignified +way, they could scarcely fail to produce a profound effect upon the +court. + +Baretti was acquitted, and no one could presume to refer to him for the +rest of his life except as a quiet, inoffensive, frugivorous gentleman, +since these were the qualities with which he was endowed by a +constellation of geniuses on their oath. He was acquitted by the jury; +but the judge thought it well to say a few words to him before allowing +him to leave the dock, and the drift of his discourse amounted to a +severe censure upon his impetuosity, and the expression of a hope that +the inconvenience to which he was put upon this occasion would act as a +warning to him in future. + +Really one could hardly imagine that in those days, when every week Mr. +Boswell had a chance of going to such an entertainment at Tyburn as he +had attended forty-eight hours before the opening of the Sessions, the +taking of the life of a human being was regarded with such horror. One +cannot help recalling the remark made by Walpole a few years later, +that, owing to the severity of the laws, England had been turned into +one vast shambles; nor can one quite forget the particulars of the case +which was quoted as having an intimate bearing upon this contention--the +case in which a young wife whose husband had been impressed to serve +in His Majesty's Fleet, and who had consequently been left without +any means of support, had stolen a piece of bread to feed her starving +children, and had been hanged at Tyburn for the crime. + +Reading the judge's censure of Baretti, who had, in preventing +a contemptible ruffian from killing him, decreased by a unit the +criminality of London, the only conclusion that one can come to is that +the courts of law were very jealous of their precious prerogative to +kill. Looking at the matter in this light, the bombastic phrase of +Boswell does not seem so ridiculous after all; the Old Bailey had +certainly good reason to be regarded as the “awful Sessions House.” But +we are not so fully convinced that it had any right to be referred to +as emphatically the Hall of Justice. In the Georgian Pageant the common +hangman played too conspicuous a part. + +But the unfortunate, if impetuous, Baretti left the court a free man, +and we cannot doubt that in the company of his friends who had stood by +him in his hour of trial he was a good deal harder upon the judge than +the judge had been upon him; and probably he was reproved in a grave and +dignified manner by Dr. Johnson, Sir Joshua Reynolds standing by with +his ear trumpet, fearful lest a single word of Johnson's wisdom should +escape him. Doubtless Mr. Garrick, the moment Johnson's back was turned, +gave an inimitable imitation of both Johnson and Baretti--perhaps of the +judge as well, and most likely the usher of the court. + +Later on, when the avaricious Reynolds had hastened back to his studio +in Leicester Fields to daub on canvas the figures of some of his sitters +at the extortionate price of thirty-five guineas for a three-quarter +length, he and Johnson put their heads together to devise what could be +done for Baretti. + +For about a year Baretti resumed his old way of living, working for the +booksellers and completing his volume of travel through Europe, by which +it is said he made £500. It would appear, however, that all his pupils +had transferred themselves to the enterprising gentleman who had +appealed to him at an inopportune moment for his recommendation, or to +some of his other brethren, for by the end of the year he was in needy +circumstances. Meantime he had been made by Sir Joshua Reynolds Honorary +Secretary for Foreign Correspondence to the Royal Academy, and then +Johnson recommended him to the husband of Mrs. Thrale as tutor to her +girls at Streatham. This was very kind to Baretti, but it was rather +hard on the Thrales. Apparently from the first day he went to Streatham +his attitude in regard to the Thrale family was one of spite and +malevolence; and there can be no doubt that Johnson bitterly regretted +his patronage of a man who seemed never to forgive any one who had done +him a good turn. + +The agreement made by him with the Thrales was that he should +practically be his own master, only residing at Streatham as a member of +the family with no fixed salary. He was as artful as an Irish cabman in +suggesting this “leave it to your honour” contract. He had heard on all +hands of the liberality of Mr. Thrale, and he knew that, in addition to +being provided with a luxurious home, he would receive presents from him +far in excess of what he could earn. He was extremely well treated for +the next three years, though he was for ever grumbling when he had +a moment's leisure from insulting the Thrales and their guests. Mrs. +Thrale said more in his favour than any one with whom he came in +contact. She wrote: “His lofty consciousness of his own superiority +which made him tenacious of every position, and drew him into a thousand +distresses, did not, I must own, ever disgust me, till he began to +exercise it against myself, and resolve to reign in our house by fairly +defying the mistress of it. Pride, however, though shocking enough, +is never despicable; but vanity, which he possessed too, in an eminent +degree, will sometimes make a man near sixty ridiculous.” + +Assuredly Mrs. Thrale “let him down” very gently. Dr. Thomas Campbell, +a clergyman from Ireland, gives us a glimpse of Baretti's bearing at +Streatham. It is clear that Baretti was anxious to impress him with the +nature of his position in the house. “He told me he had several families +both in town and country with whom he could go at any time and spend a +month; he is at this time on these terms at Mr. Thrale's, and he knows +how to keep his ground. Talking, as we were at tea, of the magnitude +of the beer vessels, he said there was one thing at Mr. Thrale's house +still more extraordinary--his wife. She gulped the pill very prettily. +So much for Baretti!” wrote the clergyman in a very illuminating account +of his visit to Streatham. + +But not only did Mrs. Thrale bear with this detestable person for nearly +two more years, but she and her husband took him with them and Johnson +to Paris, where they lived in a magnificent way, the Thrales paying for +everything. It was in a letter to Frank Levet, his domestic apothecary, +that Johnson, writing from Paris, said: “I ran a race in the rain this +day, and beat Baretti. Baretti is a fine fellow.” This is Johnson on +Baretti. Here is Baretti on Johnson; on a copy of the _Piozzi Letters_ +he wrote: “Johnson was often fond of saying silly things in strong +terms, and the silly madam”--meaning Mrs. Thrale--“never failed to echo +that beastly kind of wit.” + +It was not, however, until an Italian tour, projected by Mr. Thrale, was +postponed, that Baretti became quite unendurable. He had been presented +by Mr. Thrale with £100 within a few months, and on the abandonment of +the longer tour he received another £100 by way of compensation for the +satisfaction he had been compelled to forgo in showing his countrymen +the position to which he had attained in England. This was another act +of generosity which he could not forgive. He became sullen and more +cantankerous than ever, and neglected his duties in an intolerable way. +In fact, he treated Streatham as if it were an hotel, turning up to give +Miss Thrale a lesson at the most inconvenient hours, and then devoting +the most of his time to poisoning the girl's mind against her mother. +Upon one occasion he expressed the hope to her that if her mother died +Mr. Thrale would marry Miss Whitbred, who would, he said, be a pretty +companion for her, not tyrannical and overbearing as he affirmed her own +mother was! Truly a nice remark for a young lady's tutor to make to her +under her mother's roof. + +The fact was, however--we have Baretti's own confession for it--that he +had been led to believe that after being with the Thrales for a year or +two, an annuity would be settled on him by the wealthy brewer, and he +grew impatient at his services to the family not obtaining recognition +in this way. It is extremely unlikely that Johnson ever even so much as +hinted at this annuity, though Baretti says his expectations were due to +what Johnson had told him; but it is certain that he had so exalted an +opinion of himself, he believed that after a year or two of desultory +teaching he should receive a handsome pension. And there the old story +of the car-driver who left the nomination of the fare to “his honour's +honour” was repeated. Baretti one morning packed up his bag and left +Streatham without a word of farewell. + +Johnson's account of his departure and his comments thereupon are worth +notice. He wrote to Boswell: + +“Baretti went away from Thrales in some whimsical fit of disgust or +ill-nature without taking any leave. It is well if he finds in any other +place as good an habitation and as many conveniences.” + +On the whole it is likely that a good many of Baretti's friends felt +rather sorry than otherwise that the jury at the Old Bailey had taken +so merciful a view of his accident. If Johnson and Murphy were really +responsible for the line of defence which prevailed at the trial, one +can quite believe that the Thrales and a good many of their associates +bore them a secret grudge for their pains. + +In the year 1782 he was granted by the Government the pension which he +had failed to extort from the Thrales. It amounted to £80 per annum, +and we may take it for granted that he had nothing but the most copious +abuse for the Prime Minister who had only given him £80 when Sheridan +was receiving £200 and Johnson £300. He drew his pension for seven +years. + +Baretti's portrait, painted by Reynolds for the Streatham gallery, +fetched £31 10s., the smallest price of any in the whole collection, +on its dispersal, years after the principal actors in the scene in the +“awful Sessions House” had gone to another world. + + + + +THE FATAL GIFT + +WHEN Mr. Boswell had been snubbed, and very soundly snubbed too, by a +Duchess, one might fancy that his ambition was fully satisfied. But he +was possibly the most persevering of the order of _Pachydermata_ at +that time extant; and in the matter of snubs he had the appetite of a +leviathan. He was fired with the desire to be snubbed once more by Her +Grace--and he was. Without waiting to catch her eye, he raised his glass +and, bowing in her direction, said: + +“My Lady Duchess, I have the honour to drink Your Grace's good health.” + +The Duchess did not allow her conversation with Dr. Johnson to be +interrupted by so flagrant a piece of politeness; she continued chatting +quite pleasantly to the great man, ignoring the little one. That was how +she had got on in life; and, indeed, a better epitome of the whole art +of getting on in life could scarcely be compiled even by the cynical +nobleman who wrote letters to his son instructing him in this and other +forms of progress--including the Rake's. + +Mr. Boswell, who, as usual, is the pitiless narrator of the incident, +records his satisfaction at having attained to the distinction of a snub +from the beautiful creature at whose table he was sitting, and we are, +as usual, deeply indebted to him for giving us an illuminating glimpse +of the Duchess of whom at one time all England and the greater part of +Ireland were talking. He also mentions that Her Grace made use of an +idiom by which her Irish upbringing revealed itself. If we had not Mr. +Boswell's account of his visit to Inveraray to refer to we might be +tempted to believe that Horace Walpole deviated into accuracy when he +attributed to the Duchess of Argyll, as well as her sister, the Countess +of Coventry, the brogue of a bog-trotter. It was only by her employment +of an idiom common to the south and west of Ireland and a few other +parts of the kingdom, that Her Grace made him know that she had not been +educated in England, or for that matter in Scotland, where doubtless Mr. +Boswell fondly believed the purest English in the world was spoken. + +[Illustration: 0121] + +Mr. Boswell faithfully records--sometimes with glee and occasionally +with pride--many snubs which he received in the course of a lifetime of +great pertinacity, and some that he omitted to note, his contemporaries +were obliging enough to record; but on none did he reflect with more +satisfaction than that, or those, which he suffered in the presence of +the Duchess of Argyll. + +It happened during that memorable tour to the Hebrides to which he lured +Johnson in order to show his countrymen how great was his intimacy with +the man who traduced them once in his Dictionary and daily in his life. +It was like Boswell to expect that he would impress the Scottish nation +by leading Johnson to view their fine prospects--he certainly was never +foolish enough to hope to impress Johnson by introducing the Scottish +nation to him. In due time, however, the exploiter and the exploited +found themselves in the neighbourhood of Inveraray, the Duke of Argyll's +Castle, and the stronghold of the Clan Campbell. + +It chanced that the head of the great family was in residence at this +time, and Mr. Boswell hastened to apprise him of the fact that the great +Dr. Johnson was at hand. He called at the Castle very artfully shortly +after the dinner hour, when he believed the Duchess and her daughter +would have retired to a drawing-room. He was successful in finding the +Duke still at the dinner-table, the ladies having retired. In the course +of the interview the Duke said: “Mr. Boswell, won't you have some tea?” + and Mr. Boswell, feeling sure that the Duchess could not go very far in +insulting him when other people were present, followed his host into +the drawing-room. “The Duke,” he records, “announced my name, but the +Duchess, who was sitting with her daughter, Lady Betty Hamilton, and +some other ladies, took not the least notice of me. I should,” he +continues, “have been mortified at being thus coldly received by a lady +of whom I, with the rest of the world, have always entertained a very +high admiration, had I not been consoled by the obliging attention of +the Duke.” + +The Duke was, indeed, obliging enough to invite Johnson to dinner the +next day, and Mr. Boswell was included in the invitation. (So it is that +the nursery governess gets invited to the table in the great house +to which she is asked to bring the pretty children in her charge.) Of +course, Boswell belonged to a good family, and his father was a judge. +It was to a Duke of Argyll--not the one who was now so obliging--that +the Laird of Auchinleck brought his son, James Boswell, to be examined +in order to find out whether he should be put into the army or some +other profession. Still, he would never have been invited to Inveraray +at this time or any other unless he had had charge of Johnson. No one +was better aware of this fact than Boswell; but did he therefore decline +the invitation? Not he. Mr. Boswell saw an opportunity ahead of him. He +had more than once heard Johnson give an account of how he had behaved +when the King came upon him in the Royal Library; and probably he had +felt melancholy at the reflection that he himself had had no part or +lot in the incident. It was all Dr. Johnson and the King. But now he was +quick to perceive that when, in after years, people should speak with +bated breath of Dr. Johnson's visit to Inveraray they would be compelled +to say: “And Mr. Boswell, the son of auld Auchinleck, was there too.” + +He knew very well that there were good reasons why Mr. Boswell could +not hope to be a _persona grata_ to the Duchess of Argyll. In the great +Douglas lawsuit the issue of which was of considerable importance to the +Duke of Hamilton, the son of Her Grace, the Boswells were on the side of +the opposition, and had been very active on this side into the bargain. +James Boswell himself narrowly escaped being committed for contempt +of court for publishing a novel founded on the Douglas cause and +anticipating in an impudent way the finding of the judges. Had the +difference been directly with the Duke of Argyll some years earlier, no +doubt every man in the Clan Campbell would have sharpened his skene when +it became known that a friend of an opponent of the MacCallein More +was coming, and have awaited his approach with complacency; but now the +great chief tossed Boswell his invitation when he was asking Johnson, +and Boswell jumped at it as a terrier jumps for a biscuit, and he +accompanied his friend to the Castle. + +The picture which he paints of his second snubbing is done in his best +manner. “I was in fine spirits,” he wrote, “and though sensible that I +had the misfortune of not being in favour with the Duchess, I was not in +the least disconcerted, and offered Her Grace some of the dish which was +before me.” Later on he drank Her Grace's health, although, he adds, “I +knew it was the rule of modern high life not to drink to anybody.” Thus +he achieved the snub he sought; but he acknowledges that he thought +the Duchess rather too severe when she said: “I know nothing of Mr. +Boswell.” On reflection, however, he received “that kind of consolation +which a man would feel who is strangled by a silken cord.” + +It seems strange that no great painter has been inspired by the theme +and the scene. The days of “subject pictures” are, we are frequently +told, gone by. This may be so, generally speaking, but every one knows +that a “subject picture,” if its “subject” lends itself in any measure +to the advertising of an article of commerce, will find a ready +purchaser, so fine a perception of the aspirations of art--practical +art--exists in England, and even in Scotland, in the present day. + +Now, are not the elements of success apparent to any one of imagination +in this picture of the party sitting round the table in the great hall +of Inveraray--Dr. Johnson chatting to the beautiful Duchess and her +daughter at one side, the Duke looking uncomfortable at the other, when +he sees Mr. Boswell on his feet with his glass in his hand bowing toward +Her Grace? No doubt Her Grace had acquainted His Grace with the attitude +she meant to assume in regard to Mi. Boswell, so that he was not +astonished--only uncomfortable--when Mr. Boswell fished for his snub. +Surely arrangements could be made between the art patron and the artist +to paint a name and a certain brand upon the bottle--a bottle must, of +course, be on the table; but if this is thought too realistic the name +could easily be put on the decanter--from which Mr. Boswell has just +replenished his glass! Why, the figure of Dr. Johnson alone should +make the picture a success--i.e. susceptible of being reproduced as an +effective poster in four printings. “Sir,” said Dr. Johnson, “claret for +boys, port for men, but brandy for heroes.” Yes, but whose brandy? There +is a hint for a great modern art patron--a twentieth-century art patron +is a man who loves art for what he can make out of it. + +Dr. Johnson was unmistakably the honoured guest this day at Inveraray; +and perhaps, while the lovely Duchess hung upon his words of wisdom, his +memory may have gone back to a day when he was not so well known, and +yet by some accident found himself in a room with the then Duchess of +Argyll. Upon that occasion he had thought it due to himself to be rude +to the great lady, in response to some fancied remissness on her +part. He had nothing to complain of now. The Duchess with whom he +was conversing on terms of perfect equality--if Her Grace made any +distinction between them it was, we may rest assured, only in a way that +would be flattering to his learning--was at the head of the peerage for +beauty, and there was no woman in the kingdom more honoured than she had +been. He may have been among the crowds who hung about the Mall in St. +James's Park twenty-two years before, waiting patiently until the two +lovely Miss Gunnings should come forth from their house in Westminster +to take the air. The Duchess of Argyll was the younger of the two +sisters. + +The story of the capture of the town by the pair of young Irish girls +has been frequently told, and never without the word _romantic_ being +applied to it. But really there was very little that can be called +romantic in the story of their success. There is far more of this +element in many of the marriages affecting the peerage in these +unromantic days. There is real romance in the story of a young duke's +crossing the Atlantic with a single introduction, but that to the +daughter of a millionaire with whom he falls madly in love and whom he +marries as soon as the lawyers can make out the settlements. There is +real romance in the idyll of the young marquis who is fortunate +enough to win the affection of an ordinary chorus girl; and every year +witnesses such-like alliances--they used to be called _mésalliances_ +long ago. There have also been instances of the daughters of English +tradesmen marrying foreign nobles, whom they sometimes divorce as +satisfactorily as if they were the daughters of wealthy swindlers on +the other side of the Atlantic. In such cases there are portraits +and paragraphs in some of the newspapers, and then people forget that +anything unusual has happened. As a matter of fact, nothing unusual has +happened. + +In the romantic story of the Gunnings we have no elements of that +romance which takes the form of a _mésalliance_. Two girls, the +granddaughters of one viscount and the nieces of another, came to London +with their parents one year, and early the next married peers--the elder +an earl, the younger a duke. Like thousands of other girls, they had no +money; but, unlike hundreds of other girls who marry into the peerage, +they were exceptionally good-looking. + +Where is there an element of romance in all this? The girls wedded men +in their own station in life, and, considering their good looks, +they should have done very much better for themselves. The duke was a +wretched _roué_, notable for his excesses even in the days when excess +was not usually regarded as noteworthy. He had ruined his constitution +before he was twenty, and he remained enfeebled until, in a year or +two, he made her a widow. The earl was a conceited, ill-mannered prig--a +solemn, contentious, and self-opinionated person who was deservedly +disliked in the town as well as the country. + +Not a very brilliant marriage either of these. With the modern chorus +girl the earl is on his knees at one side, and the gas man on the other. +But with the Miss Gunnings it was either one peer or another. They were +connected on their mother's side with at least two families of nobility, +and on their father's side with the spiritual aristocracy of some +generations back: they were collateral descendants of the great Peter +Gunning, Chancellor of Oxford and Bishop of Ely, and he was able to +trace his lineage back to the time of Henry VIII. From a brother of this +great man was directly descended the father of the two girls and also +Sir Robert Gunning, Baronet, who held such a high post in the diplomatic +service as Minister Plenipotentiary to Berlin, and afterwards to St. +Petersburg. Members of such families might marry into the highest order +of the peerage without the alliance being criticised as “romantic.” The +girls did not do particularly well for themselves. They were by birth +entitled to the best, and by beauty to the best of the best. As it was, +the one only became the wife of a contemptible duke, the other of a +ridiculous earl. It may really be said that they threw themselves away. + +Of course, it was Walpole's gossip that is accountable for much of the +false impression which prevailed in respect of the Gunnings. From the +first he did his best to disparage them. He wrote to Mann that they were +penniless, and “scarce gentlewomen.” He could not ignore the fact that +their mother was the Honourable Bridget Gunning; but, without knowing +anything of the matter, he undertook to write about the “inferior tap” + on their father's side. In every letter that he wrote at this time he +tried to throw ridicule upon them, alluding to them as if they were +nothing better than the barefooted colleens of an Irish mountain-side +who had come to London to seek their fortunes. As usual, he made all +his letters interesting to his correspondents by introducing the latest +stories respecting them; he may not have invented all of these, but +some undoubtedly bear the Strawberry Hill mark, and we know that Walpole +never suppressed a good tale simply because it possessed no grain of +truth. + +Now, the true story of the Gunnings can be ascertained without +any reference to Walpole's correspondence. Both girls were born in +England--the elder, Maria, in 1731, the younger in 1732. When they were +still young their father, a member of the English Bar, inherited his +brother's Irish property. It had once been described as a “tidy estate,” + but it was now in a condition of great untidiness. In this respect it +did not differ materially from the great majority of estates in +Ireland. Ever since the last “settlement” the country had been in a +most unsettled condition, and no part of it was worse than the County +Roscommon, where Castle Coote, the residence of the Gunning family, was +situated. It might perhaps be going too far to say that the wilds of +Connaught were as bad as the wilds of Yorkshire at the same date, but +from all the information that can be gathered on the subject there does +not seem to have been very much to choose between Roscommon and the +wilder parts of Yorkshire. The peasantry were little better than +savages; the gentry were little worse. Few of the elements of civilized +life were to be found among the inhabitants. The nominal owners of the +land were content to receive tribute from their tenantry in the form of +the necessaries of life, for money as a standard of exchange was rarely +available. Even in the present day in many districts in the west +of Ireland cattle occupy the same place in the imagination of the +inhabitants as they do in Zululand. The Irish bride is bargained away +with so many cows; and for a man to say--as one did in the very county +of Roscommon the other day--that he never could see the difference of +two cows between one girl and another, may be reckoned somewhat cynical, +but it certainly is intelligible. + +But if rent was owing--and it usually was--and if it was not paid in the +form of geese, or eggs, or pork, or some other products of low farming +and laziness, it remained unpaid; for the landlord had no means of +enforcing his claims by any law except the law of the jungle. He might +muster his followers and plunder his debtors, and no doubt this system +of rent-collecting prevailed for several years after one of the many +“settlements” of the country had taken place, yet by intermarriage with +the natives, and a general assimilation to their condition of life by +the newcomers, these raids for rent became unpopular and impracticable. +The consequence was that the landlords--such as remained on their +estates--were living from hand to mouth. + +But if the fact that the King's writ failed to run in these parts was +of disadvantage to the landlords in one respect, it was of no +inconsiderable advantage to them in another; for it enabled them with +a light heart to contract debts in Dublin and in the chief towns. They +knew that the rascally process server, should he have the hardihood to +make any attempt to present them with the usual summons, would do so at +the risk of his life; and a knowledge of this fact made the “gentry” at +once reckless and lawless. The consequence was that Ireland was regarded +as no place for a man with any respect for his neighbours or for himself +to live in. It became the country of the agent and the squireen. + +It was to one of the worst parts of this country that John Gunning +brought his wife and four children--the eldest was eight years and +the youngest three months--and here he tried to support them off the +“estate.” He might possibly have succeeded if his aspirations had been +humble and his property unencumbered. It so happened, however, that his +father had been the parent of sixteen children, and the estate was still +charged with the maintenance of ten of these. Thus hampered, Mr. Gunning +and the Honourable Bridget Gunning were compelled to adopt the mode of +life of the other gentry who were too poor to live out of Ireland, +and they allowed the education of their family to become a minor +consideration to that of feeding them. + +Mr. Gunning and his wife were undoubtedly the originals of the type of +Irish lady and gentleman to be found in so many novels and plays of +the latter part of the eighteenth and the first half of the nineteenth +centuries. He was the original “heavy father” who, with the addition +of a ridiculous nondescript brogue, was so effectively dealt with by +numerous writers until Thackeray took him in hand; and Mrs. Gunning was +the first of the tradition of Irish mothers with daughters to dispose of +by the aid of grand manners and a great deal of contriving. True to this +tradition, which originated with them, the lady was certainly the +head of the household--a sorry household it must have been at Castle +Coote--during the ten years that elapsed before the migration to +England. + +Mr. Gunning was a fine figure of a gentleman, a handsome, loquacious +person with a great sense of his own dignity and an everlasting +consciousness of the necessity to maintain it at something approximate +to its proper level, and, like other persons of the same stamp, never +particularly successful in the means employed to effect this object. It +is doubtful if a loud conversational style, with repeated references to +the brilliant past of his family and predictions as to the still more +brilliant future that would have been achieved by its representative but +for the outrageous fortune that flung him into the bogs of Roscommon, +produced a more vivid impression upon his associates in Ireland than it +would be likely to do among a more credulous community. In Ireland he +resembled the young gentleman who went to educate the French, but was +discouraged at the outset when he found that even the children in the +streets spoke better French than he did. Mr. Gunning could teach the +Irish squireens nothing in the way of boasting; and he soon found that +they were capable of giving him some valuable instruction as to the +acquiring of creditors and their subsequent evasion. Whatever their +educational deficiencies may have been, it must be admitted that they +had mastered these arts. Much as he despised his ancestral home, he +found, after repeated visits to Dublin, that his heart was, after all, +in Castle Coote, and that, for avoiding arrest for debt, there was no +place like home. + +The Honourable Mrs. Gunning must have become dreadfully tired of this +florid person and of the constant worry incidental to the control of +such a household as his must have been. Her life must have been spent +contriving how the recurrent crises could be averted, and so long as she +was content to remain in the seclusion of the Irish village her efforts +were successful. We do not hear that the bailiffs ever got so far as the +hall door of their ramshackle mansion; there was a bog very handy, and +the holes which served as a rudimentary system of natural drainage +were both deep and dark. The topography of the district was notoriously +puzzling to the officers from the Dublin courts. + +But with all her success in this direction one maybe pretty sure that +her life must have been very burthensome to the Honourable Mrs. Gunning. +She had social ambitions, as befitted a daughter of a noble house, and +on this account she never allowed herself to sink to the level of the +wives of the squireens around her, who were quite content with the rude +jollity of an Irish household--with the “lashings and leavings” to eat, +and with the use of tumblers instead of wineglasses at table. She was +the daughter of a peer, and she never forgot this fact; and here it must +be mentioned that, however culpably she may have neglected the education +of her children in some respects, she took care that they avoided the +provincial brogue of their Irish neighbours. + +Perhaps it was because Walpole knew nothing of the tradition of the +English settlers in Ireland that he referred in his letters to various +correspondents to the appalling brogue of both the Gunning girls; or +perhaps he, as usual, aimed only at making his correspondence more +amusing by this device. But every one who knows something of the +“settlements” is aware of the fact that the new-comers had such a +contempt for the native way of pronouncing English that they were most +strenuous in their efforts to hand down to their children the tradition +of pronunciation which they brought into the country. They were not +always so successful as they wished to be; but within our own times the +aspiration after a pure “English accent” is so great that even in the +National Schools the teachers, the larger number of whom bear Celtic +names, have been most industrious both in getting rid of their native +brogue and in compelling their pupils to do the same; and yet it is +certain that people have been much more tolerant in this respect in +Ireland during the past half-century than they were a hundred years +earlier. + +Of course, a scientific analysis of the pronunciation of the English +language by, say, a native of the wilds of Yorkshire and by a native of +the wilds of Connemara would reveal the fact that fewer corruptions of +the speech are habitual to the latter than to the former, the “brogue” + being far less corrupt than the “burr.” It was not enough for the +settlers, however, that their children should speak English in Ireland +more correctly than their forefathers did in England; they insisted on +the maintenance of the English tradition of pronunciation, erroneous +though it might be. So that the suggestion that the daughters of the +Gunning family, who had never heard English spoken with the brogue of +the native Irish until they were eight or nine years of age, spoke the +tongue of the stage Irish peasant would seem quite ridiculous to any +one who had given even the smallest amount of study to the conditions +of speech prevailing in Ireland even in the present tolerant age, +when employment is not denied to any one speaking with the broadest of +brogues. Some years ago such an applicant would have had no chance of +a “billet”--unless, in a literal sense, to hew, with the alternative of +the drawing of water. + +The truth, then, is that the Gunning girls had practically neither more +nor less of that form of education to be acquired from the study of +books or “lessons” than the average young woman of their own day who had +been “neglected.” Between the years 1750 and 1800 there were in England +hundreds of young ladies who were as highly educated as a junior-grade +lady clerk in the Post Office Department is to-day; but there were +also thousands who were as illiterate as the Gunnings without any one +thinking that it mattered much one way or another. + +[Illustration: 0139] + +And it really did not matter much that Maria Gunning spelt as vaguely as +did Shakespere, or Shakspere, or Shakespeare, or Shakspear, or whatever +he chose to write himself at the moment. Correctness of orthography is +absolutely necessary for any young lady who wishes to be a success in +the Postal Department, but Miss Gunning possessed some qualifications of +infinitely greater importance in the estimation of the world. She was of +good family and she was beautiful exceedingly. Moreover, she possessed +the supreme grace of naturalness--the supreme grace and that which +includes all other graces, which, like butterflies, hover over +womankind, but seldom descend in a bevy upon any one of the race. She +was as natural as a lily flower, and for the same reason. To be natural +il came to her by Nature, and that was how she won the admiration of +more people than the beauty of Helen of Troy brought to their death. She +was not wise. But had she been wise she would never have left Ireland. +She would have known that obscurity is the best friend that any young +woman so beautiful as she was could have. She would have remained in +Roscommon, and she would have been one of those women who are happy +because they have no story. But, of course, had she been wise she would +not have been natural, and so there her beauty goes by the board in a +moment. + +The Honourable Mrs. Gunning could not have been startled when +the knowledge came to her that she was the mother of two girls of +exceptional beauty. The same knowledge comes to every mother of two +girls in the world, though this knowledge is sometimes withheld from +the rest of the world; but even then the mother's faith is not +shaken--except in regard to the eyesight of the rest of the world. +Doubtless Mrs. Gunning thought much better of Ireland when she found +that her judgment on the beauty of her daughters was shared by all the +people who saw the girls. From the daily exclamation of wonder--the +exaggerated expressions of appreciation uttered by a fervent +peasantry--when the girls were seen in their own kitchen or on the +roadside, the mother's ambition must have received a fresh stimulus. And +given an ambitious mother, whose life has been one of contriving to do +things that seem out of her power to accomplish, the achievement of +her object is only a matter of time--provided that the father does not +become an obstruction. Mrs. Gunning was not extravagant in her longings. +Her Delectable Mountains were those which surround the City of Dublin. +Her social ambitions did not extend beyond “The Castle.” + +When the eldest of her three daughters was scarcely nineteen the +aggregation of savings and credit--the latter predominant--seemed +sufficient to justify the expedition. A house was taken in a fashionable +street, close to the most splendid Mall in Europe, and furnished by some +credulous tradesmen, and the social campaign was begun by a parade of +the two girls and their mother. Alas! the young beauties attracted +only too much attention. The inquiries as to their style and title were +unfortunately not limited. In Dublin for generations the tradespeople +have been accustomed to take an intelligent and quite intelligible +interest in the aristocracy and beauty dwelling in their midst; and it +took only a few days for the report to go round that the exquisite young +ladies were the daughters of Mr. John Gunning, of Castle Coote. + +This information meant much more to some of the least desirable of +the inquirers than it did to the wealthy and well connected of the +population; and among the least desirable of all were some tradesmen who +for years had had decrees waiting to be executed against Mr. Gunning at +a more convenient place for such services than Castle Coote. The result +was that within a week the beauty of his daughters had made such a stir +in Dublin that bailiffs were in the house and Mr. Gunning was out of it. + +It is at this point in the history that the Troubadour unslings his +lute, feeling the potentialities of Romance in the air; and, given the +potentialities of Romance and the wandering minstrel, one may be sure +that the atmosphere will resound with Romance. We are told on such high +authority as is regarded quite satisfactory (by the Troubadour), that +the weeping of the mother and the beautiful girls under the coarse stare +of the bailiffs attracted the attention of a charming and sympathetic +young actress who was taking the air in the street, and that, as might +only be expected, she hastened to enter the house to offer consolation +to those who were in trouble--this being unquestionably the mission +which is most congenial to the spirit of the _soubrette_. On being at +once informed of all by the communicative mother--the Troubadour is not +such a fool as to lay down his lute to inquire if it was likely that a +lady who possessed her full share of Irish pride would open her heart +to a stranger and an actress--the young visitor showed her sympathy by +laying herself open to prosecution and imprisonment through helping in +a scheme to make away with all the valuables she could lay her hands on. +But she went still further, and invited the young ladies to stay at her +house so long as it suited them to do so. + +We are told that this young actress was George Ann Bellamy, but the +information comes from no better source than George Ann Bellamy herself, +and the statements of this young person, made when she was no longer +young or reputable, do not carry conviction to all hearers. Romance, +however, like youth, will not be denied, though the accuracy of an +actress may, and people have always been pleased to believe that Miss +Bellamy and Mr. Thomas Sheridan, the much-harassed lessee of the Smock +Alley Theatre in Dublin, were the means of obtaining for the Honourable +Mrs. Gunning and her daughters the invitation to the ball at the Castle +which resulted in the recognition of the girls' beauty by the great +world of fashion. The suggestion that their aunt, Miss Bourke, or +their uncle, Viscount Mayo, might have been quite as potent a factor in +solving the problem of how the invitation to a ball given by the Viceroy +to the people of Dublin came into the hands of the Miss Gunnings, may, +however, be worth a moment's consideration. + +At any rate, the success made by the girls upon this occasion was +immediate. Before a day had passed all Dublin and Dublin Castle were +talking of their beauty, and the splendid Mall was crowded with people +anxious to catch a glimpse of the lovely pair when they took their walks +abroad. Lady Caroline Petersham, the charming lady whose name figures +frequently in Walpole's correspondence--it will be remembered that she +was one of that delightful little supper party at Ranelagh which he +describes--was in the entourage of the Viceroy, and quickly perceived +the possibilities of social prestige accruing to the hostess who might +be the means of introducing them to St. James's. There a new face meant +a new sensation lasting sometimes well into a second month, and Lady +Caroline had her ambitions as a hostess. + +She was the Gunnings' best friend--assuming that social advancement is +an act of friendship--and it may safely be assumed that she was mainly +responsible for the extension of the area of the campaign entered on by +Mrs. Gunning, and that it was her influence which obtained for them the +passage to Chester in the Lord Lieutenant's yacht, and a bonus of £150 +charged, as so many other jobs were, “upon the Irish Establishment.” + The “Irish Establishment” was the convenient Treasury out of which money +could be paid without the chance of unpleasant questions being asked in +Parliament respecting such disbursements. + +Of course, it is not to be believed that such success as the young girls +encompassed in Dublin was reached without a word or two of detraction +being heard in regard to their behaviour. Mrs. Delany, amiable as +a moral gossip, or perhaps, a gossipy moralist, wrote to her sister +respecting them: “All that you have heard of the Gunnings is true, +except their having a fortune, but I am afraid they have a greater want +than that, which is discretion.” No doubt Mrs. Delany had heard certain +whispers of the girlish fun in which the elder of the sisters delighted; +but there has never been the smallest suggestion that her want of +discreetness ever approached an actual indiscretion. It may be assumed, +without doing an injustice to either of the girls, that their standard +of demeanour was not quite so elevated as that which the wife of Dean +Delany was disposed to regard as essential to be reached by any young +woman hoping to be thought well of by her pastors and masters. But the +steelyard measure was never meant to be applied to a high-spirited young +girl who has grown up among bogs and then finds herself the centre of +the most distinguished circle in the land, every person in which is +eagerly striving for the distinction of a word from her lips. Maria +Gunning may not have had much discretion, but she had enough to serve +her turn. She arrived in London with her sister, and no suggestion was +ever made--even by Walpole--that their mother had not taken enough care +of them. + +In London they at once found their place in the centre of the most +fashionable--the most notorious--set; but while we hear of the many +indiscreet things that were done by certain of their associates, nothing +worse is attributed to either of the girls than an Irish brogue or an +Irish idiom--perhaps a word or two that sounded unmusical to fastidious +ears. Walpole began by ridiculing them, and, as has already been noted, +sneering at their birth; but when he found they were becoming the +greatest social success that his long day had known, he thought it +prudent to trim his sails and refer to them more reasonably: they were +acquiring too many friends for it to be discreet for him to continue +inventing gossip respecting them. + +But what a triumph they achieved in town! Nothing had ever been known +like it in England, nor has anything approaching to it been known during +the century and a half that has elapsed since the beauty of these two +girls captured London. The opening of Parliament by the King in State +never attracted such crowds as thronged the Park when they walked in the +Mall. Never before had the guards to turn out at the Palace to disperse +the crowds who mobbed two young ladies who did not belong--except in a +distant way--to a Royal House. Upon one occasion the young Lord Clermont +and his friend were compelled to draw their swords to protect them from +the exuberant attentions of the crowd. “'Tis a warm day,” wrote George +Selwyn to Lord Carlisle, “and some one proposes a stroll to Betty's +fruit shop; suddenly the cry is raised, 'The Gunnings are coming,' and +we all tumble out to gaze and to criticise.” + +“The famous beauties are more talked of than the change in the +Ministry,” wrote Walpole. “They make more noise than any one of their +predecessors since Helen of Troy; a crowd follows them wherever they +walk, and at Vauxhall they were driven away.” + +This mobbing must have caused the girls much delightful inconvenience, +and one can see their mother acting the part--and overdoing it, after +the manner of her kind--of the distracted parent whose daughters have +just been restored to her arms. One can hear the grandiloquent thanks +of the father to the eligible young man with titles whose bravery +has protected his offspring--that would have been his word--from the +violence of the mob. The parents must have been very trying to the young +men in those days. But the mother showed herself to be rather more +than a match for one young man who hoped to win great fame as a +jocular fellow by playing a trick upon the family. Having heard of the +simplicity and credulousness of the girls, this gentleman, with another +of his kind, asked leave of Mrs. Gunning to bring to her house a certain +duke who was one of the greatest _partis_ of the day. On her complying, +he hired a common man, and, dressing him splendidly, conveyed him in +a coach to the Gunnings' house and presented him to the family as +the duke. But the man knew as little of the matter as did Walpole; he +assumed that she was nothing more than the adventurous wife of an Irish +squireen. He soon found out that he had made a mistake. Mrs. Gunning +rang the bell, and ordered the footman to turn the visitors out of +the house. But the family were soon consoled for this incident of the +impostor duke by the arrival of a real one, to say nothing of another +consolation prize in the form of an earl. In the meantime, however, +their popularity-had been increasing rather than diminishing. As a +matter of fact, although beauty may be reproached for being only skin +deep, it is very tenacious of life. A reputation for beauty is perhaps +the most enduring of all forms of notoriety. The renown that attaches to +the man who has painted a great picture, or to one who has made a great +scientific discovery, or to one who has been an eminent churchman or a +distinguished statesman, is, in point of popularity and longevity, quite +insignificant in comparison with that which is associated with the +name of a very beautiful woman. The crowds still surrounded the Miss +Gunnings, and the visit which they paid by command to King George II +gave them a position in the world of fashion that was consolidated by +the report of the charming _naivete_ of the reply made by Maria when the +King inquired if they had seen all the sights of London and if there +was any in particular which they would like to be shown. “Oh, I should +dearly like to see a coronation!” the girl is said to have cried. And as +that was just the sight for which the people of England were most eager, +she was acclaimed as their mouthpiece. + +So they progressed in the career that had been laid out for them. Duels +were fought about them, and bets were made about them and their future. +For nearly a year there was no topic of the first order save only the +Progress of Beauty. The Duke had come boldly forward. He was a double +duke--his titles were Hamilton and Brandon--and he had sounded such +depths of depravity that he was possibly sincere in his desire to +convince the world that his taste in one direction had not become +depraved. Elizabeth Gunning may have accepted his service from a hope of +being the means of reforming him. But even if she were not to succeed in +doing so, her mother would have reminded her that her failure would not +make her the less a duchess. It is open, however, for one to believe +that this girl cared something for the man and was anxious to amend his +life. + +Then we hear of her being with him at Lord Chesterfield's ball given +at the opening of his new mansion, her fancy dress being that of a +Quakeress. Three days later the world in which they lived awoke to learn +the astounding news that the Duke of Hamilton and Brandon had married +Elizabeth Gunning the previous night. + +Here was romance beyond a precedent; and Walpole romanced about it +as usual. In his account of the nuptials he succeeds in making more +misstatements than one would believe it possible even for such a worker +in the art to encompass in half a dozen lines. “When her mother and +sister were at Bedford House,” he wrote to Mann, “a sudden ardour, +either of wine or love, seized upon him (the Duke); a parson was +promptly sent for, but on arriving, refused to officiate without the +important essentials of licence or ring. The Duke swore and talked of +calling in the Archbishop. Finally the parson's scruples gave way, the +licence was overlooked, and the lack of the traditional gold ring was +supplied by the ring of a bed curtain!” + +This is very amusing, but it is not history. It is a clumsy fiction, +unworthy of the resources of the inventor. Sir Horace Mann must have +felt that his friend had a poor opinion of his intelligence if he meant +him to accept the assurance that the household of the Gunnings and the +fingers of His Grace were incapable of yielding to the fastidious parson +a better substitute for the traditional gold ring than the thing he +introduced. The facts of the incident were quite romantic enough without +the need for Walpole's embellishments. It was Valentine's Day, and what +more likely than that the suggestion should be made by the ardent +lover that so appropriate a date for a wedding would not come round for +another year! To suggest difficulties--impossibility--would only be to +spur him on to show that he was a true lover. However this may be, it +has long ago been proved that the midnight marriage took place in due +form at the Curzon Street Chapel in the presence of several witnesses. + +And then Walpole went on to say that the wedding of Lord Coventry and +the elder sister took place at the same time. It so happened, however, +that a fortnight elapsed between the two ceremonies, and in the case of +the second, the ceremony took place in the full light of day. + +The subsequent history of the two ladies is not without a note of +melancholy. The elder, pursued to the end by the malevolent slanders +of the man with the leer of the satyr perpetually on his face, died of +consumption after eight years of wedded life. The younger became a widow +two years earlier, and after being wooed by the Duke of Bridgewater, +whom she refused, sending him to his canal for consolation, married +Colonel Campbell, who in 1770 became the Fifth Duke of Argyll. Six +years later she was created a peeress in her own right, her title +being Baroness Hamilton of Hameldon in Leicestershire. In 1778 she +was appointed Mistress of the Robes. She attained to the additional +distinction of making the good Queen jealous, so that Her Majesty upon +one occasion overlooked her in favour of Lady Egremont. The Duchess at +once resigned, and only with difficulty was persuaded to withdraw her +resignation. She died in 1790. + + + + +THE FÊTE-CHAMPÊTRE + +NO one knows to-day with whom the idea of having an English +_fête-champêtre_ at The Oaks upon the occasion of the marriage of the +young Lord Stanley to Lady Betty Hamilton originated. The secret +was well kept; and it can be easily understood that in case of this +innovation proving a fiasco, no one would show any particular desire to +accept the responsibility of having started the idea. But turning out as +it did, a great success, it might have been expected that many notable +persons would lay claim to be regarded as its parents. A considerable +number of distinguished people had something to do with it, and any +one of them had certainly sufficient imagination, backed up by an +acquaintance with some of the exquisite pieces of MM. Watteau and +Fragonard, to suggest the possibility of perfecting such an enterprise +even in an English June. It was the most diligent letter-writer of that +age of letter-writing who had referred to the “summer setting in with +its customary severity,” so that the trifling of the month of June +with the assumption of the poets who have rhymed of its sunshine with +rapture, was not an experience that was reserved for the century that +followed. But in spite of this, the idea of a _fête-champêtre_, after +the most approved French traditions, in an English demesne found favour +in the eyes of Lord Stanley and his advisers, and the latter were +determined that, whatever price might have to be paid for it, they would +not run the chance of being blamed for carrying it out in a niggardly +spirit. + +The young Lord Stanley had as many advisers as any young nobleman with +a large immediate allowance and prospects of a splendid inheritance may +hope to secure. There was his _fiancée's_ mother, now the Duchess of +Argyll, who was never disposed to frown down an undertaking that would +place a member of one of her families in the forefront of the battle of +the beauties for the most desirable _parti_ of the year. + +[Illustration: 0155] + +The Duchess had both taste and imagination, so that people called her an +Irishwoman, although she was born in England. Then there was Mr. George +Selwyn, who said witty things occasionally and never missed a hanging. +He was fully qualified to prompt a wealthy companion as to the best +means to become notorious for a day. There was also young Mr. Conway, +the gentleman who originated the diverting spectacle when Mrs. Baddeley +and Mrs. Abington were escorted to the Pantheon. Any one of these, to +say nothing of Lady Betty herself, who had some love for display, might +have been inclined to trust an English June so far as to believe an _al +fresco_ entertainment on a splendid scale quite possible. + +On the whole, however, one is inclined to believe that it was Colonel +Burgoyne who was responsible for the whole scheme at The Oaks. In +addition to having become Lord Stanley's uncle by running away with +his father's sister, he was a budding dramatist, and as such must have +perceived his opportunity for exploiting himself at the expense of +some one else--the dream of every budding dramatist. There is every +likelihood that it was this highly accomplished and successful +“gentleman-adventurer” who brought Lord Stanley up to the point of +embarking upon his design for an entertainment such as had never +been seen in England before--an entertainment that should include the +production of a masque devised by Colonel Burgoyne and entitled _The +Maid of The Oaks_. The fête came off, and it was pronounced the most +brilliant success of the year 1774. + +Lord Stanley was a very interesting young man; that is to say, he was +a young man in whom no inconsiderable number of persons--mainly of the +opposite sex--were greatly interested. Of this fact he seems to have +been fully aware. A good many people--mainly of the opposite sex--felt +very strongly on the subject of his marrying: it was quite time that he +married, they said. His grandfather, the Earl of Derby, was eighty-four +years of age, and it would be absurd to believe that he could live much +longer. Lord Stanley being his heir, it was agreed that it was the young +man's duty not to procrastinate in the matter of marriage. It is always +understood that a patriarchal nobleman sings “_Nunc dimittis_” when he +holds in his arms the second in direct succession to the title, and this +happy consummation could, in the case of the aged Lord Derby, only be +realised by the marriage of Lord Stanley. + +He was small in stature, and extremely plain of countenance; still +this did not prevent his name from being coupled with that of several +notable--but not too notable--young women of his acquaintance. But as +it was well known that he was greatly interested in the stage, it +was thought that, perhaps, he might not be so complaisant as his best +friends hoped to find him in regard to marrying. An ardent interest in +the progress of the drama, especially in its lighter forms, has been +known to turn a young man's attention from marriage, when it does not do +what is far worse--turn his attention to it with too great zest. Before +long, however, it became apparent that his lordship recognised in what +direction his duty lay. There was a young lady connected with the Ducal +House of Bedford--a niece of that old Duchess who played so conspicuous +a part in the social and political history of the middle of the +eighteenth century--and to her Lord Stanley became devoted. But just +when every one assumed that the matter was settled, no one thinking +it possible that the young lady would be mad enough to refuse such a +_parti_, the news came that she had done so; and before people had +done discussing how very eccentric were the Bedford connections, +the announcement was made that Lord Stanley was to marry Lady Betty +Hamilton, the beautiful daughter of a beautiful mother, the Duchess of +Argyll. + +There is in existence a letter written by the Duchess to Sir William +Hamilton, in which she hints that Lord Stanley was an old suitor for the +hand of her daughter. “Lady Betty might have taken the name of Stanley +long ago if she had chose it,” she wrote, adding: “A very sincere +attachment on his side has at last produced the same on hers.” This +being so, it would perhaps be unsafe to assume that Lord Stanley +proposed to Lady Betty out of pique at having been rejected by the other +lady, though one might be disposed to take this view of the engagement. + +The alternative view is that Lady Betty had been advised by her +accomplished mother that if she played her cards well there was no +reason why she should not so attract Lord Stanley as to lead him to be a +suitor for her hand, and that the girl at last came to see that the +idea was worth her consideration. Her portrait, painted by Sir Joshua +Reynolds in the year of her marriage, shows her to have been a graceful, +girlish young creature; but her beauty could never have been comparable +with that of her mother at the same age, or with that of her aunt, Lady +Coventry, whom it is certain she closely resembled in character. Her +mother, in her letter to Sir William Hamilton, apologises in a way +for her liveliness, assuring him that such a disposition was not +incompatible with serious thought upon occasions; and this gives us +a hint that the reputation for vivacity which she always enjoyed was +closely akin to that which made the life of Lady Coventry so very +serious. + +This was the young lady in whose honour the first English _fête +champêtre_ was organised. To be more exact, or to get more into touch +with the view of the Derby family, perhaps one should say that the +_fête_ was set on foot in consideration of the honour the young lady +was doing herself in becoming a member of the great house of +Stanley. Different people look at a question of honour from different +standpoints. Probably Colonel Burgoyne, although a member of the Derby +family by marriage, left honour out of the question altogether, and only +thought of his masque being produced at his nephew's expense. + +And produced the masque was, and on a scale as expensive as the most +ambitious author could desire. It was described, with comments, by all +the great letter-writers of the time. Walpole has his leer and his sneer +at its expense (literally). It was to cost no less than £5000, he said, +and he ventured to suppose that in order to account for this enormous +outlay Lord Stanley had bought up all the orange trees near London--no +particular extravagance one would fancy--and that the hay-cocks would be +of straw-coloured riband. George Selwyn thought it far from diverting. +The Dowager Lady Gower affirmed that “all the world was there,” only she +makes an exception of her relations the Bedfords--she called them “the +Bloomsbury lot”--and said that the Duchess would not let any of them go +because Her Grace thought that Lord Stanley should have taken his recent +rejection by Her Grace's niece more to heart. Lady Betty's stepfather, +the Duke of Argyll, said that the whole day was so long and fatiguing +that only Lady Betty could have stood it all. + +But did Lady Betty stand it all? It was rumoured in the best-informed +circles that she had broken off the match the next day; and when one +becomes acquainted with the programme of the day's doings one cannot but +acknowledge that the rumour was plausible. She probably made an attempt +in this direction; but on her fiancé's promising never to repeat the +offence, withdrew her resolution. + +The famous brothers Adam, whose genius was equally ready to build +an Adelphi or to design a fanlight, had been commissioned to plan an +entertainment on the most approved French models and to carry it out on +the noblest scale, taking care, of course, that the central idea should +be the masque of _The Maid of The Oaks_, and these large-minded artists +accepted the order without demur. The pseudo-classical feeling entered, +largely through the influence of the Adams, into every form of art at +this period, though the famous brothers cannot be accused of originating +the movement. Sir Joshua Reynolds painted his most charming ladies in +the costume of Greeks, and Angelica Kauffmann depicted many of her early +English episodes with the personages clad in togas which seemed greatly +beyond their control. But for that matter every battle piece up to +the date of Benjamin West's “Death of Wolfe” showed the combatants in +classical armour; and Dr. Johnson was more than usually loud in his +protests against the suggestion that a sculptor should put his statues +of modern men into modern clothing. + +But the Adams were wise enough to refrain from issuing any order as to +the costume to be worn by the shepherds and shepherdesses who were +to roam the mead at The Oaks, Epsom, upon the occasion of this _fête +champêtre_; and they were also wise enough to distrust the constancy of +an English June. The result was (1) a charming medley of costume, though +the pseudo-pastoral peasants, farmers, gardeners, and shepherds were in +the majority, and (2) the most interesting part of the entertainments +took place indoors, the octagonal hall lending itself nobly--when +improved by Messrs. Adam--to the show. The “transparencies” which +constituted so important a part of the ordinary birthday celebrations +of the time, took the form of painted windows, and, later, of a +device showing two of the conventional torches of Hymen in full blaze, +supporting a shield with the Oak of the Hamiltons' crest and the usual +“gules.” + +This design occupied the place of the “set piece” which winds up a +modern display of fireworks and sets the band playing “God save the +King.” It could not have been brought on until the morning sunlight +was flooding the landscape outside; for supper was not served until +half-past eleven, and the company had to witness the representation of +an intolerably long masque--the second of the day--after supper, with a +procession of Druids, fauns, cupids, and nymphs, all in suitable, but it +is to be hoped not traditional, costume. + +The entertainment began quite early in the afternoon, when there was +a long procession of shepherds and shepherdesses through the lanes to +where a pastoral play was produced and syllabub drunk under the trees. +But this was only an _hors d'ouvre_; it was not Colonel Burgoyne's +masterpiece. This was not produced in the open air. Only when further +refreshments had been served and evening was closing in did the guests, +who had been sauntering through the sylvan scenes, repair to the great +hall, which they found superbly decorated and, in fact, remodelled, for +colonnades after the type of those in the pictures of Claude had been +built around the great ballroom, the shafts being festooned with roses, +and the drapery of crimson satin with heavy gold fringes. There were +not enough windows to make excuses for so much drapery, but this was no +insuperable obstacle to the artful designers; they so disposed of the +material as to make it appear that it was the legitimate hanging for six +windows. + +For the procession through the colonnades the young host changed his +costume and his fiancée changed hers. He had appeared as Rubens and she +as Rubens' wife, from the well-known picture. But now she was dressed as +Iphigenia. They led the first minuet before supper, and it was thought +that they looked very fine. No one who has seen the two pictures of the +scene, for which Zucchi was commissioned, can question this judgment. +Lady Betty's portrait in one of these panels makes her even more +beautiful than she appears on Sir Joshua's canvas. + +With a display of fireworks of a detonating and discomposing type--the +explosion, it was said, affected the nerves of nearly all the +guests--and the illumination of the “transparency” already alluded to, +this memorable fête came to no premature conclusion. Every one was bored +to death by so much festivity coming all at once. The idea of twelve +hours of masques and minuets is enough to make one's blood run cold. Its +realisation may have had this effect upon the heroine of the day, hence +the rumour that she found she had had enough of the Derby family to +last her for the rest of her life without marrying the young heir. +Unfortunately, however, if this was the case, she failed to justify the +accuracy of the report; and she was married to Lord Stanley on the 23rd +of the same month. + +The union of Maria Gunning with the Earl of Coventry was a miserable +one, but this of her niece and Lord Stanley was infinitely worse. Lady +Betty soon found out that she had made a mistake in marrying a man so +incapable of appreciating her charm of manner as was Lord Stanley. The +likelihood is that if she had married any other man she would have made +the same discovery. The vivacity for which her mother apologised to Sir +William Hamilton was, after her marriage, much more apparent than the +thoughtfulness which the Duchess assured her correspondent was one of +her daughter's traits. She showed herself to be appallingly vivacious +upon more than one occasion. Just at that time there was a vivacious +“set” in Lady Betty's world, and every member of it seemed striving for +leadership. Few of the ladies knew exactly where the border line lay +between vivacity and indiscretion. If Lady Betty was one of the better +informed on this delicate question of delimitation, all that can be said +is that she overstepped the line upon several occasions. It is not to be +thought that her lightness ever bordered into actual vice, but it rarely +fell short of being indiscreet. + +She was always being talked about--always having curious escapades, none +of them quite compromising, but all calculated to make the judicious +grieve. But it is one thing to be subjected to the censure of the +judicious and quite another to come before a judicial authority, and it +is pretty certain that if Lady Derby--her husband succeeded to the title +two years after his marriage--had incriminated herself, she would have +been forced to defend a divorce suit. + +It is, however, likewise certain that for some time she kept hovering +like a butterfly about the portals of the Court, and a good deal of the +bloom was blown off her wings by the breath of rumour. She had accepted +the devotion of the Duke of Dorset, and, considering the number of +eyes that were upon her and the devotion of His Grace, this was a very +dangerous thing to do. They were constantly seen together and at all +hours. This was in the second year of her marriage, but even in +the first her desire to achieve notoriety by some means made itself +apparent. But her escapade that was most talked about was really not +worthy of the gossip of a Gower. She was at a ball at the house of Mrs. +Onslow in St. James's Square, and her chair not arriving in good time to +take her back to Grosvenor Square, it was suggested by Lord Lindsay and +Mr. Storer that they should borrow Mrs. Onslow's chair and carry her +between them to her home. She agreed to this gallant proposal, and off +they set together. The young men bore her to her very door in spite of +the fact that they had met her own chair soon after they had left Mrs. +Onslow's porch. + +There was surely not much of an escapade in this transaction. The truth +was probably that the chair did not arrive owing to the condition of the +bearers, and when the young gentlemen met it they refused to jeopardise +the safety of the lady by transferring her from Mrs. Onslow's chair to +her own. + +Rumour, however, was only too anxious to put the worst construction upon +every act of the merry Countess, and it was doubtless because of this, +and of her own knowledge of her daughter's thoughtlessness, that +the Duchess of Argyll appeared upon the scene and endeavoured by her +presence and advice to avert the catastrophe that seemed imminent. +The Duchess insisted on accompanying her to every entertainment, and +succeeded in keeping a watchful eye on her, though the Duke, who was +at Inveraray, and was doubtless tired of hearing of the vivacity of +his stepdaughter, wrote rather peremptorily for Her Grace to return +to Scotland. She did not obey the summons, the fact being that she was +devoted to this daughter of hers, who must have daily reminded her of +her own sister Maria, to whom she had been so deeply attached. * + + * It was said that she had refused the offer of the Duke of + Bridgewater, because of his suggestion that she should break + off all intercourse with Lady Coventry. + +Seeing, however, that she could not continue to look after this lively +young matron, and being well aware of the fact that Lord Derby would +never consent to live with her again, the Duchess could do no more than +condone the separation which was inevitable. The deed was drawn up in +1779, five years after Lady Betty had been so inauspiciously bored by +the _fête champêtre_. + +[Illustration: 0171] + +In the meantime there was a good deal of talk about the Earl of Derby +himself. A young nobleman who takes a lively, or even a grave, interest +in the personnel of the theatre is occasionally made the subject of +vulgar gossip. Lord Derby had a reputation as an amateur actor, and +he seemed to think that it would be increased by association with +professional actresses. It is doubtful if he was justified in his views +on this delicate question. At any rate, rightly or wrongly, on his +estrangement from his wife, but two years before the final separation, +he showed a greater devotion than ever to dramatic performances and +dramatic performers. His uncle by marriage, now General Burgoyne, had +written a play that turned out an extraordinary success. This was _The +Heiress_, and it had received extravagant praise in many influential +quarters. It was while it was still being talked of in society that a +company of distinguished amateurs undertook to produce it at Richmond +House, in Whitehall Place. In order that the representation might be as +perfect as possible, the Duchess of Richmond engaged the actress who +had taken the chief part in the original production, to superintend +the rehearsals of her amateurs. Miss Farren was a young person +of considerable beauty, and more even than an actress's share of +discretion. She was in George Colman's company at the Haymarket, and +was rapidly taking the place of Mrs. Abington in the affections of +playgoers. She was the daughter of a surgeon in a small way--he may have +been one of the barber surgeons of the eighteenth century. Marrying an +actress (also in a small way), he adopted the stage as a profession, and +became a strolling actor-manager, whenever he got the chance, and died +before his drinking habits had quite demoralised his family. + +Mrs. Farren was a wise woman--wise enough to know that she was a bad +actress, but that there were possibilities in her two daughters. It was +after only a brief season of probation that Colman engaged one of +the girls to do small parts, promoting her in an emergency to be a +“principal.” Miss Farren proved herself capable of making the most of +her opportunity, and the result was that within a year she was taking +Mrs. Abington's parts in the best comedies. + +Her mother was sensible enough to perceive that there was room in the +best society for an actress of ability as well as respectability--up to +that time the two qualities had seldom been found associated--and Mrs. +Farren was right. No whisper had ever been heard against the young lady, +and a judicious introduction or two brought her into many drawing-rooms +of those leaders of society who were also respectable, and this was of +advantage to her not only socially, but professionally. Horace Walpole +was able to write of her: “In distinction of manner and refinement she +excelled Mrs. Abington, who could never go beyond Lady Teazle, which is +a second-rate character.” Again, in a letter to Lady Ossory, he ascribed +the ability of Miss Farren to the fact that she was accustomed to mingle +with the best society. + +This theory of Walpole's has been frequently controverted since his day, +and now no one will venture to assert that there is really anything in +it, although it sounds plausible enough. Miss Farren had, however, ample +opportunity of studying “the real thing” and of profiting by her study. +She found herself on the most intimate footing with duchesses--not of +the baser sort like her of Ancaster, or of the eccentric sort like her +of Bedford, but of the most exalted. The Duchess of Richmond and the +Duchess of Leinster were among her friends, and thus it was that her +appearance at the rehearsals of _The Heiress_ of Whitehall Place was +not wholly professional. Upon this occasion she met Lord Derby and also +Charles James Fox, the latter having accepted the rather onerous duties +of stage manager. Before any of the performers were letter perfect in +their dialogue, Miss Farren had captured the hearts of both these +men. Having some of the qualities necessary to success as a statesman, +including caution and an instinct as to the right moment to retire from +a contest that must end in some one being made a fool of, Mr. Fox soon +withdrew from a position of rivalry with Lord Derby. It was rumoured by +the malicious, who had at heart the maintenance of the good name of +Miss Farren, that Mr. Fox had been dismissed by the lady with great +indignation on his making a proposition to her that did not quite +meet her views in regard to the ceremony of marriage. Miss Farren they +asserted to be a paragon of virtue, and so she undoubtedly was. Her +virtue was of the most ostentatious type. She would never admit a +gentleman to an audience unless some witness of her virtue was present. +She accepted the devotion of Lord Derby, but gave him to understand +quite plainly that so long as his wife was alive she could only agree to +be his _fiancée_. Truly a very dragon of virtue was Miss Farren! + +The Earl, previous to his meeting the actress, had been a dutiful if not +a very devoted husband. But as soon as he fell in love with this paragon +of virtue he became careless, and made no attempt to restrain his wife +in her thoughtless behaviour. He allowed her to go her own way, and he +went his way. His way led him almost every evening to the green room +at the Haymarket and Drury Lane, where Miss Farren was to be found. The +estrangement between himself and his wife that resulted in the final +separation was the result not of his infatuation for the actress, but of +her virtuous acceptance of him as her moral lover. She took care never +to compromise herself with him or any one else, but she did not mind +taking the man away from his wife and home in order that she might be +accredited with occupying an absolutely unique position in the annals of +the English stage. + +If Miss Farren had been a little less virtuous and a little more human +she would run a better chance of obtaining the sympathy of such people +as are capable of differentiating between a woman's virtue and the +virtues of womankind. She seemed to think that the sole duty of a woman +is to be discreet in regard to herself--to give no one a chance of +pointings finger of scorn at her; and it really seemed as if this was +also the creed of the noble people with whom she associated. Every +one seemed to be so paralysed by her propriety as to be incapable of +perceiving how contemptible a part she was playing. An honest woman, +with the instincts of goodness and with some sense of her duty, would, +the moment a married man offers her his devotion, send him pretty +quickly about his business. The most elementary sense of duty must +suggest the adoption of such a course of treatment in regard to +an illicit admirer. But Miss Farren had no such sense. She met the +philandering of her lover with smiles and a virtuous handshake. She +accepted his offer of an adoring friendship for the present with a +reversion of the position of Countess of Derby on the death of the +existing holder of the title and its appurtenances; and people held her +up, and continue to hold her up, as an example of all that is virtuous +and amiable in life! + +She was also commended for her patience, as Lord Derby was for his +constancy. They had both great need of these qualities, for the unhappy +barrier to their union showed no signs of getting out of their way, +either by death or divorce. She became strangely discreet, taking, in +fact, a leaf out of Miss Farren's book of deportment, and never giving +her husband a chance of freeing himself from the tie that bound him +nominally to her. It must have been very gratifying to the actress to +perceive how effective was the example she set to the Countess in regard +to the adherence to the path of rectitude. + +What was the exact impression produced upon Lord Derby by all this +decorum it would be difficult to say. He may have been pleased to +discover that he was married to a lady to whom his honour was more +precious than he had any reason or any right to believe it to be. But +assuredly a less placid gentleman would have found himself wishing now +and again that--well, that matters had arranged themselves differently. + +The years went by without bringing about a more satisfactory _modus +vivendi_ than was in existence when Lord Derby originally offered his +heart and hand (the latter when it should become vacant) to the actress. +Lady Derby was in wretched health, but still showed no more inclination +to die than does a chronic invalid. Miss Farren continued to drive her +splendid chariot, with its coachmen on the hammer-cloth and its footmen +clinging on to the straps behind, down to the stage-door of the theatre, +and to fill the house every night that she played. Her popularity seemed +to grow with years, and she appeared in a wide range of characters, +making her audiences accept as correct her reading of every part, though +the best critics--Walpole was about the worst--of her art had a good +deal to say that was not quite favourable to her style. Only once, +however, did she make a flagrant error on the stage, and this was when +she was misguided enough to put on men's garments in representing the +part of Tracy Lovell in Colman's play, _The Suicide_. + +By this unhappy exhibition which she made of herself she disillusioned +those of her admirers who fancied that she was a model of grace from +the sole of her feet to the crown of her head. She never repeated this +performance. Had she done so in Lord Derby's presence, his constancy +would have been put to a severer test than any to which he had been +previously subjected. The best judges of what constitutes grace in a +woman were unanimous in their advice to the lady never to forsake the +friendly habiliments which she was accustomed to wear, and never to +allow her emulation of the perpetually chaste goddess to lead her to +adopt even for an hour the convenient garb in which she went a-hunting. + +And while his fiancée was moving from triumph to triumph, putting every +other actress in the shade, the Earl of Derby was putting on flesh. But +as his flesh became more visible so did his faith. He was a model of +fidelity. His name was never associated with the name of any other +lady--not even that of his wife--during his long years of probation, and +twenty years form a rather protracted period for a man to wait in order +to marry an actress. It was not to be wondered if the spectacle of the +devoted young peer waiting for the beautiful girl in the green room, +which was allowed to the habitués of that fascinating apartment during +the earlier years of this strange attachment, produced quite a different +effect upon people from that which was the result of witnessing a +somewhat obese, elderly gentleman panting along by the side of a chaste +lady of forty. Nor was it remarkable that, on seeing one day by the side +of Miss Farren, a gallant young man whose walk and bearing suggested +to elderly spectators a rejuvenated Lord Stanley, they should rub their +eyes and ask what miracle was this that time and true love had wrought. + +The only miracle that time had wrought was to make the son of the Earl +of Derby twenty-one years of age and rather interested in the personnel +of green rooms. He had been introduced to Miss Farren by his father; but +to his honour be it said, he made no attempt to take his father's +place in regard to the lady, except as her escort to her house in Green +Street. The gossip that suggested such a possibility was just what one +might expect to find in one of Walpole's letters. + +At last the shameful, if virtuous, devotion of twenty years was +rewarded by the announcement of the death of the wretched Countess whose +desertion dated from the day her husband met the actress. Miss Farren, +with that extraordinary bad taste which characterised every period +of her intimacy with Lord Derby, took an ostentatious farewell of the +stage, and proved by the faltering of her voice, her emotion, and her +final outburst in tears, that time had not diminished from the arts of +her art. Of course, there was a scene of intense emotion in the theatre, +which was increased when King led her forward and Wroughton spoke a +rhymed and stagey farewell in her presence. Four of its lines were +these: + + But ah! this night adieu the joyous mien, + + When Mirth's lov'd fav'rite quits the mimic scene, + + Startled Thalia would th'assent refuse, + + But Truth and Virtue sued and won the Muse. + +Truth and Virtue--these were the patrons of the compact by which Miss +Farren waited for twenty years for the death of the wife of the man whom +she had promised to marry--when she could. + +The scene in the green room when the actress came off the stage was +an unqualified success. Tears flowed freely, making channels as they +meandered down the paint; sobs came from the actresses who hoped to get +a chance of doing some of her parts now that she had left the stage; +and Miss Farren herself showed that she knew what were the elements of a +proper climax, by fainting with a shriek, in the midst of which she made +an exit supported by all the actors who were not already supporting some +of the hysterical ladies in the background. They all deserved to have +their salaries raised. The whole scene was a triumph--of art. + +The exact chronology of the crisis is worth noting. Lady Derby died on +March 4th, and was buried on April 2nd. On April 8th Miss Farren took +her farewell of the stage, and on May 1st she was married to the Earl +of Derby. A satisfactory explanation of the indecent delay in the +celebration of the marriage was forthcoming: his lordship had been +suffering from an attack of gout. + +But if no one ventured to cast an aspersion upon his character or to +accuse him of shilly-shallying in regard to the postponement of his +nuptials until his wife had been nearly a whole month in her grave, +there was a good deal of funny gossip set loose when, after a honeymoon +of two days, the Earl and the Countess returned to London. This also was +satisfactorily explained: the Countess was devoted to her mother! + +The marriage proved a very happy one, and thirty-two years passed before +the Countess died. Her husband survived her by five years. He died in +1834, fifty-seven years after his first meeting with the actress, and +forty-seven since he instituted “The Derby” race meeting, winning the +first cup by his horse Sir Peter Teazle. + + + + +THE PLOT OF A LADY NOVELIST + +IN the year 1790-1 there was played in real life a singularly poor +adaptation of an unwritten novel by one of the Minifie sisters--those +sentimental ladies who, during the last quarter of the eighteenth +century, provided the circulating libraries with several volumes of +high-flown fiction. The adaptation of this unwritten novel possessed a +good many of the most prominent features of the original, so that when +it was brought to light there could be very little doubt as to the brain +out of which it had been evolved. The result of the performance was so +unsatisfactory as to compel one to believe that the worst possible way +of producing a novel is to adapt it to suit the requirements of one's +relations, forcing them to play in real life and in all earnest the +parts assigned to them by the inventor of the plot. + +Miss Minifie, the second of the sentimental sisters, had married in the +year 1769 Colonel John Gunning, the brother of the two beautiful girls +one of whom became Duchess of Hamilton, and later Duchess of Argyll, and +the other Countess of Coventry. The result of the union was a daughter +of considerable plainness, and people said that in this respect she +resembled her mother's rather than her father's family. It seems that +while the Gunning tradition was beauty, the Minifie tradition was a +nose, and it soon became apparent that it was impossible to combine the +two with any satisfactory artistic results. The young lady had made an +honest attempt to do so, but her failure was emphatic. She had eyes that +suggested in a far-off way the long-lashed orbs of her aunts, but that +unlucky Minifie nose was so prominent a feature that it caused the +attention of even the most indulgent critic to be riveted upon it, to +the exclusion of the rest of her face. The charitably-disposed among her +friends affirmed that she would be passably good-looking if it were not +for her nose; the others said that she would be positively plain if it +were not for her eyes. + +Her father was probably that member of his family who had least brains: +they made a soldier of him, and he married a lady novelist, closing an +inglorious career by running off with his tailor's wife and having a +writ issued against him for £5000. He took care to be at Naples, outside +the jurisdiction of the English court, when it was issued, and he died +before it could be served on him, which suggests that he may not have +been so devoid of brains after all. + +Her mother (_née_ Minifie) seems to have entertained the idea of making +the girl work out a “plot” for her when she arrived at the regulation +age of the sentimental heroine of those days, and this plot she invented +with all her accustomed absence of skill. Her materials were a “glorious +child”--this was how she described her daughter--with a gifted mother; +a young cousin, heir to a dukedom and a large estate; and, lastly, +the Gunning tradition. Could any novelist ask for more? A short time +afterwards she did, however, and this was just where her art failed her. +She did much to discourage the writers of fiction from endeavouring to +work out their plots in real life. + +Catherine Gunning, the “glorious child,” being the niece of the Duchess +of Argyll, her cousin was, of course, the Marquis of Lome; and as the +Duchess had always kept up an intimate connection with the members of +her father's family, even to the second generation, her son, Lord Lome, +and Catherine Gunning had been a good deal together, not only when +they were children, but also when they had reached the age when the +novel-writer's hero and heroine begin to blossom. The girl's mother, +doubtless having an idea that these very live young people were +as plastic as the creatures of her fancy, thought to hasten on the +_dénouement_ of her story by whispering it to her friends. She whispered +into more than one ear that Lord Lome and her daughter were betrothed, +and such friends as received this information, strictly _sub rosa_, took +care to spread it abroad--strictly _sub rosa_ also. Now the aggregation +of many confidential reports of this sort is what is termed “news,” so +that in the course of a short time it was common property that Lord Lome +was to marry his cousin, Catherine Gunning. + +Congratulations reached the young lady, which she neither quite accepted +nor altogether rejected. She seems to have learned from her mother's +novels that in such matters it is wisest for a young woman to be silent +but pensive. And on the whole her behaviour was fairly consistent with +that of the heroine which her mother meant her to be. Indeed, all that +was needed to enable her to take the place of the heroine of a pleasant +little love story was the proposal of the hero; and unhappily this +formality had still to be reckoned with. Lord Lome had so paltry an +appreciation of what was due to the art of the fiction-writer that +he declined to play the part of the young hero of the story, and when +people approached him on the subject he said that he had heard nothing +about being accepted by Miss Gunning, and that he could not possibly be +accepted until he had proposed to her. He seems to have acted with the +discretion one would have looked for from the son of the Duchess of +Argyll, and in the course of the year the reports of the possible +union dwindled away, and people began to feel that their friends were +untrustworthy gossips to have circulated a report solely on the evidence +of a young lady's pensiveness. + +This was, however, as it turned out, but the opening chapter in the +romance which the novelist-mother was working out. Indeed, it scarcely +bears to be considered as a regular chapter, it was rather the prologue +to the comedy which was played two years later with the same heroine, +but for obvious reasons with a different hero. In the prologue there was +scarcely visible any of the art of the novelist; in the comedy itself, +however, her hand is constantly apparent, controlling the movements of +at least one of her puppets; and very jerkily, too, that hand pulled the +strings. The clumsiness in the construction of the plot prevented any +one from sympathising with the authoress and stage-manager of the piece +when its failure became known to the world in general, and to Horace +Walpole in particular. Walpole could pretend a good deal. He pretended, +for instance, that he knew at once that the Rowley poems, sent to him by +Chatterton, were forgeries; and he pretended that he knew nothing of the +marriage of his niece to the Duke of Gloucester until the public were +apprised of the fact. He could not, however, even pretend that he +sympathised with the failure of the Minifie plot. On the contrary, he +gloats over the disgrace which, he declared, on this account fell +upon the Gunning family. He hated the whole Gunning family, and he was +plainly in ecstasies of delight when he believed that ruin had come upon +them. “The two beautiful sisters were exalted almost as high as they +could go,” he wrote. “Countessed and double duchessed, and now the +family have dragged themselves down into the very dirt.” + +The “family” had of course done nothing of the sort. One member of the +family had allowed herself to be made a fool of at the suggestion of her +very foolish mother; her father had also been indiscreet, but there is +a wide difference between all this and the family of Gunning “dragging +themselves into the very dirt.” The result of the tricks of the lady +novelist to marry her daughter to the heir to a dukedom was only to +make every one roar with laughter, and no doubt the fatuous ladies felt +greatly annoyed. But the Marquis of Lome did not seem to take the matter +greatly to heart, and he was a member of the Gunning family; nor did the +Duke of Hamilton show himself to be greatly perturbed, though he must +have been somewhat jealous of the honour of the family to which his +mother belonged. The position that the Gunning family had taken among +the greatest families in the land rested upon too solid a foundation +to be shaken by the foolishness of a lady novelist, who had married a +Gunning. And now people who read the story of the “dragging in the dirt” + only shrug their shoulders at the ridiculous figure cut by the actors +in the shallow and sordid comedy, and laugh at the spiteful gibe of the +prince of gossips, who played a congenial part in damning the product of +the Minifie brain. + +Two years after the failure of the Lome plot startling whispers were +once again heard in regard to Miss Gunning and the heir to another +dukedom. This time it was the Marquis of Blandford who attracted +the Minifie fancy. He was the Duke of Marlborough's heir, and was +twenty-three years of age. Of course it was Mrs. Gunning (_née_ Minifie) +who was the first to make the announcement that the young people were +greatly attached; and then followed--after the interval of a chapter or +two--the lady novelist's declaration to her niece, a Mrs. Bowen, that +Lord Blandford had proposed, and had been accepted by Miss Gunning. +The date of the marriage had been fixed, and the draft deed of the +settlements signed; but, as in the former “case,” the recipient of +the news was told that she must regard the communication as strictly +confidential, the fact being that although the arrangements for the +match were so fully matured, yet General Gunning--he had recently been +made a general--had not been let into the secret. + +It must have seemed a little queer to Mrs. Bowen to learn that her uncle +had not been made acquainted with the good luck that was in store +for his daughter. The signing of marriage deeds in the absence of the +bride's father must surely have struck her as being a trifle irregular. +However this may be, she seems to have treated the communication as +strictly confidential by at once proceeding to spread abroad the news +that it contained. It reached the ears of several people of distinction +before long. General Conway heard of it, and from a quarter that seemed +to him absolutely trustworthy. He passed it round to Walpole and the +Court circle. The Duke of Argyll, as the uncle of the young lady most +interested in the match, was apprised of it in due course, and on +appealing to headquarters--that is to say, to Mrs. Gunning--for +confirmation or denial of the report, learned that the marriage had +indeed been “arranged,” but the question of settlements remained in +abeyance. + +Shortly afterwards there came rumours that there were obstacles in the +way of the marriage, and Miss Gunning, on being questioned by some of +her friends, confessed that it was the parents of her lover who were +unkind: young Lord Blandford was burning with anxiety to call her his +own, but the Duke and Duchess belonged unfortunately to that type of +parent to be found in so many novels in which the course of true love +runs anything but smooth. + +Strange to say, it was just at this point that a letter appeared in the +_Advertiser_, signed by General Gunning, apprising the world of the fact +that the Gunnings were one of the noblest families in existence, the +writer actually being able to trace his ancestry up to Charlemagne. + +It was while people were so laughing over this letter as to cause him +to declare it to be a forgery, that the General became suspicious of the +genuineness of his daughter's statements in regard to her _affaire de +cour_. When a blunt old soldier finds a letter bearing his signature in +the papers, well knowing that he never wrote such a letter, he is apt to +question the good faith even of his nearest and dearest. It is certain, +at any rate, that the descendant of Charlemagne had an uneasy feeling +that any woman who wrote novels was not to be implicitly trusted in the +affairs of daily life. His mind running on forged letters, he commanded +his daughter to submit to him her correspondence with her lover. + +Miss Gunning at once complied, and he sat down to read the lot. The +result was not to allay his suspicions. The letters read remarkably +well, and contained the conventional outpourings of an ardent lover to +the object of his affections. But to the simple soldier's mind they read +just too well: some of them were in the style of a novel-writer with +whom he was acquainted--imperfectly, it would appear, or he would have +suspected something long before. Retaining the precious “pacquet” he +awaited developments. + +He had not long to wait. Another contribution to the correspondence +which he had in his hand came to his daughter, and was passed on to him. +Noticing in it some doubtful features, he came to the conclusion that +it was necessary to get to the bottom of the affair in the most +straightforward way. He leapt to the bottom of it by sending the whole +“pacquet” to the young Marquis of Blandford, asking him peremptorily if +he had written the letters. + +He got a reply to the effect that a few of the letters were his--they +were the ordinary ones, courteous, but in no way effusive--but that the +greater number had not come from him. His lordship did not seem to think +that common politeness demanded his expressing his hearty concurrence +with the tone and sentiments contained in these same letters. Now in +the judgment of a novelist of the intellectual calibre of the Minifie +sisters this is exactly what a young gentleman would do when playing +the part of the hero of a romance, so that it would appear that General +Gunning was fully justified in coming to the conclusion that the whole +scheme--the whole piece of scheming--was the design of his wife--that it +represented an attempt on her part to force one of her “plots” upon some +real personages. Dull-minded man though he certainly was, he must have +perceived that his wife's plan was to compel Lord Blandford to act the +part of the hero of her sentimental imagination, and when confronted +with a parcel of forged letters, in every one of which there was a +confession of love for Miss Gunning, to bow his head meekly, as any +gentleman (of her imagination) would, and say, “Those are my letters, +and they express nothing but the most honourable sentiments of my +heart.” + +But as it so happened the young Lord Blandford was not a young gentleman +of this particular stamp. He seems to have been almost as practical as +his great ancestor, who, out of the proceeds of his first love intrigue, +bought an annuity for himself. Hence the fiasco of the Minifie plot. + +The Minifie plot, however, was not worked out in one act only, and an +insignificant prologue. The resources of the lady's imagination were +by no means exhausted by the failure of Lord Blandford to act up to the +heroic part assigned to him. He seems to have talked a good deal to +his friends about the forged letters, and the Duke of Argyll, the young +lady's uncle, took the matter up as an important member by marriage +of the family. He applied to his niece for an explanation of the whole +affair; and her father seems to have agreed with him in thinking that +if the girl was ever to hold up her head again it would be necessary +for her to bring forward some evidence to prove what she still asserted, +namely, that the letters had been written to her by Lord Blandford--this +“pacquet” of letters played as important a part in the story of Miss +Gunning as the “Casquet Letters” did in the history of Queen Mary--and +that they were written with the concurrence and approbation of the Duke +and Duchess of Marlborough. The Duke and Duchess had, she affirmed, +encouraged her by the most unmistakable means to believe that they were +extremely anxious to see her married to their son. + +It was then suggested--Horace Walpole, who gloats over the whole story +in a letter to one of the Berrys, does not say by whom--that the young +woman should draw up a narrative of the progress of the attachment +professed for her by Lord Blandford, and of the particular acts +of encouragement for which she alleged the Duke and Duchess were +responsible, leading her to feel sure that she was a _persona grata_ +with them. It was hoped by the Duke of Argyll and General Gunning that +the girl would be rehabilitated in the eyes of society by the production +of the Duke of Marlborough's formal assent to the statements made +by Miss Gunning in endeavouring to exculpate herself. Miss Gunning +assenting--after a consultation with her mother, we may be sure--a +“narrative” was accordingly prepared by the young lady, and in it there +was the ingenuous confession that although she had been unable to resist +so dazzling an offer as that of Lord Blandford, she had not wavered in +her affection for her cousin, the Marquis of Lome. + +Here we have the true Minifie touch of sentimentality, and we cannot +doubt that the remaining portion of the plot was due to her clumsy +ingenuity. + +This narrative was sent to the Duke of Marlborough, with the following +letter from General Gunning: + +“St. James's Place, + +“_3 rd February_, 1791. + +“My Lord,--I have the honour of addressing this letter to your Grace +not with the smallest wish after what has passed of having a marriage +established between Lord Blandford and my daughter, or of claiming any +promise or proposal to that effect, but merely to know whether your +Grace or the Duchess of Marlborough have it in recollection that +your Graces or Lord Blandford ever gave my daughter reason to think a +marriage was once intended. + +“My motive for giving this trouble arises merely from a desire of +removing any imputation from my daughter's character, as if she +had entertained an idea of such importance without any reasonable +foundation. + +“For my own satisfaction, and that of my particular friends who have +been induced to believe the reports of the intended marriage, I have +desired my daughter to draw up an accurate narrative of every material +circumstance on which that belief was founded. + +“This narrative I have the honour of transmitting to your Grace for your +own perusal, and that of the Duchess of Marlborough and Lord Blandford, +thinking it highly suitable that you should have an early opportunity +of examining it--and I beg leave to request that your Grace will, after +examination, correct or alter such passages as may appear either to your +Grace, the Duchess of Marlborough, or Lord Blandford, to be erroneously +stated. + +“I have the honour to be, + +“With the greatest respect, my Lord, + +“Your Grace's most humble and + +“Most obedient servant, + +“John Gunning.” + +This letter was dispatched by a groom to its destination at Blenheim, +and within half an hour of his delivering it, His Grace, according to +the groom, had handed him a reply for General Gunning. This document, +which the groom said he had received from the Duke, was forwarded, with +a copy of the letter to which it constituted a most satisfactory reply, +to a small and very select committee that had, it would seem, been +appointed to investigate and report upon the whole story. It must also +be quoted in full, in order that its point may be fully appreciated by +any one interested in this very remarkable story. + +“Blenheim. + +“Sir,--I take the earliest opportunity to acknowledge the receipt of +your letter, and to answer it with that explicitness you are so much +entitled to. From the first of the acquaintance of the D------s of +Marlborough and myself had with Miss Gunning, we were charmed with +her, and it was with infinite satisfaction we discovered _Blanford's_ +sentiments similar to our own. It had long been the wish of both to +see him married to some amiable woman. Your daughter was the one we had +fixed on, and we had every reason to suppose the object of his tenderest +affections, and, from the conduct of both himself and his family, +yourself and Miss Gunning had undoubtedly every right to look on a +marriage as certain. Indeed when I left town last summer, I regarded her +as my future daughter, and I must say it is with sorrow I relinquish the +idea. The actions of young men are not always to be accounted for; +and it is with regret that I acknowledge my son has been particularly +unaccountable in his. I beg that you will do me the justice to believe +that I shall ever think myself your debtor for the manner in which you +have conducted yourself in this affair, and that I must always take +an interest in the happiness of Miss Gunning. I beg, if she has not +conceived a disgust for the whole of my family, she will accept the +sincerest good wishes of the Duchess and my daughters. + +“I have the honour to remain, + +“Sir, + +“Your much obliged and + +“Most obedient, humble servant, + +“Marlborough.” + +Now be it remembered that both these letters were forwarded to the +committee with the young lady's narrative, to be considered by them in +the same connection, at Argyll House, where their sittings were to be +held. + +What was to be said in the face of such documentary evidence as this? +Those members of the committee who hoped that the girl's statement of +her case would be in some measure borne out by the Duke of Marlborough +could never have hoped for so triumphant a confirmation of her story as +was contained in His Grace's letter. It seemed as if the investigation +of the committee would be of the simplest character; handing them such +a letter, accompanying her own ingenuous narrative, it was felt that she +had completely vindicated her position. + +But suddenly one member of the committee--Walpole in the letter to Miss +Berry affirms that he was this one--ventured to point out that in the +Duke's letter the name _Blandford_ was spelt without the middle letter +_d_. “That was possible in the hurry of doing justice,” wrote Walpole. +But the moment that this pin-puncture of suspicion appeared in the +fabric of the lady's defence it was not thought any sacrilege to try to +pick another hole in it. The wax with which the letter was sealed +was black, and the members of the council asked one another whom the +Marlborough family were in mourning for, that they should seal their +letter in this fashion. No information on this point was forthcoming. +(It is strange if Walpole did not suggest that they were in mourning +over the defunct reputation of the young lady.) If the Duke of Argyll +was present, it can well be believed that, after the members of the +council had looked at each other, there should be silence in that room, +on one wall of which we may believe there was hanging the splendid +portrait of Elizabeth, Duchess of Argyll and Baroness Hamilton of +Hameldon, in her own right, painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds. The lady was +dying at her Scotch home when this investigation into the conduct of her +niece was being conducted. + +It was probably a relief to every one present when the suggestion was +made that the Duke of Marlborough's second son was in town, and if +sent for he might be able to throw some light upon the subject of the +mourning wax or some other questionable point in the same connection. +Although it was now close upon midnight a messenger was dispatched for +the young man--probably his whereabouts at midnight would be known with +greater certainty than at midday. At any rate he was quickly found, +and repaired in all haste to Argyll House. He was brought before +the committee and shown the letter with the black wax. He burst out +laughing, and declared that the writing bore not the least resemblance +to that of his father, the Duke of Marlborough. + +There was nothing more to be said. The council adjourned _sine die_ +without drawing up any report, so far as can be ascertained. + +But the full clumsiness of the Minifie “plot” was revealed the next day, +for General Gunning received a letter from the Captain Bowen whose name +has already entered into this narrative, telling him that his wife, the +General's niece, had a short time before received from Miss Gunning a +letter purporting to be a copy of one which had come to her from the +Duke of Marlborough, and begging her to get her husband to make a fair +copy of it, and return it by the groom. Captain Bowen added that he +had complied with his wife's request to this effect, but he had written +“_copy_” at the top and “_signed M_.” at the bottom, as is usual in +engrossing copies of documents, to prevent the possibility of a charge +of forgery being brought against the copyist. + +The letter which the girl wrote to Mrs. Bowen was made the subject of +an affidavit shortly afterwards, and so became public property. It is +so badly composed that one cannot but believe it was dictated by her +mother, though the marvellous spelling must have been Miss Gunning's +own. The fact that, after making up a story of her love for Lord Lome, +and of the encouragement she received from the Marlborough family in +respect of Lord Blandford, she instructed Mrs. Bowen to keep the matter +secret from her mother, confirms one's impression as to the part the +lady must have played in the transaction. Miss Gunning wrote: “Neither +papa or I have courage to tell mama, for she detests the person dearest +to me on earth.” + +But however deficient in courage her papa was in the matter of +acquainting his wife with so ordinary an incident as was referred to in +this letter, he did not shrink from what he believed to be his duty when +it was made plain to him that his daughter and his wife had been working +out a “plot” in real life that necessitated the forging of a letter. +He promptly bundled both wife and daughter out of his house, doubtless +feeling that although the other personages in the romance which his wife +was hoping to weave, had by no means acted up to the parts she had meant +them to play, there was no reason why he should follow their example. +It must be acknowledged that as a type of the bluff old soldier, simple +enough to be deceived by the inartistic machinations of a foolish wife, +but inexorable when finding his credulity imposed upon, he played +his part extremely well. At the same time such people as called him a +ridiculous old fool for adopting so harsh a measure toward his erring +child, whose tricks he had long winked at, were perhaps not to be +greatly blamed. + +The old Duchess of Bedford at once received the outcasts and provided +them with a home; and then Mrs. Gunning had leisure to concoct a +manifesto in form of an open letter to the Duke of Argyll, in which, +after exhorting His Grace to devote the remainder of his life to +unravelling the mystery which she affirmed (though no one else could +have done so) enshrouded the whole affair of the letter, she went on +to denounce the simple-hearted General for his meanness--and worse--in +matters domestic. He had never been a true husband to her, she declared, +and he was even more unnatural as a father. As for Captain Bowen and his +wife, the writer of the manifesto showed herself to be upon the brink +of delirium when she endeavoured to find words severe enough to describe +their treachery. They were inhuman in their persecution of her “glorious +child,” she said, and then she went on to affirm her belief that the +incriminating letters had been forged by the Bowens, and the rest of the +story invented by them with the aid of the General to ruin her and her +“glorious child.” + +Captain Bowen thought fit to reply to this amazing production. He did so +through the prosaic form of a number of affidavits. The most important +of these was that sworn by one William Pearce, groom to General Gunning. +In this document he deposed that when he was about to start for Blenheim +with the “pacquet” for the Duke of Marlborough, Miss Gunning had caught +him and compelled him to hand over the “pacquet” to her, and that +she had then given him another letter, sealed with black, bearing +the Marlborough arms, instructing him to deliver it to her father, +pretending that he had received it at Blenheim. + +In spite of all this Miss Gunning continued to affirm her entire +innocence, and even went the length--according to Walpole--of swearing +before a London magistrate that she was innocent. “It is but a burlesque +part of this wonderful tale,” adds Walpole, “that old crazy Bedford +exhibits Miss every morning on the Causeway in Hyde Park and declares +her _protégée_ some time ago refused General Trevelyan.” But “crazy old +Bedford” went much further in her craziness than this, for she actually +wrote to the Marquis of Lome trying to patch up a match between Miss +Gunning and himself. Immediately afterwards the town was startled by the +report that a duel was impending between Lord Lome and Lord Blandford, +the former maintaining that it was his duty to uphold the honour of his +cousin, which had been somewhat shaken by the course adopted by the +Marlborough heir. Of course no duel took place, and the young men simply +laughed when their attention was called to the statement in print. + +How much further these alarums and excursions (on the Causeway) would +have proceeded it would be impossible to tell, the fact being that +Captain Bowen and his wife gave notice of their intention to institute +proceedings against the Gunnings, mother and daughter, for libel. This +brought _l'affaire Gunning_ to a legitimate conclusion, for the ladies +thought it advisable to fly to France. + +“The town is very dull without them,” wrote Walpole to one of the +Berrys, enclosing a copy of a really clever skit in verse, after the +style of “The House that Jack Built,” ridiculing the whole affair. +When Mrs. Gunning and her daughter returned, after the lapse of several +months, the old Duchess of Bedford took them up once more; but the town +declined to take any further notice of them. It was not until her father +and mother had been dead for some years that Miss Gunning married Major +Plunkett, an Irish rebel, who fled after the rising in 1798. She lived +with him happily enough for twenty years, endeavouring to atone for the +indiscretion of her girlhood by writing novels. It is doubtful if many +of her readers considered such expiation wholly adequate, considering +how foolish she had been. One act of folly can hardly be atoned for +by another. But her intention was good, and her faults, including her +novels, have long ago been forgiven her by being forgotten. + + + + +TRAGEDY WITH A TWINKLE + +IN the summer of 1770 there arrived at the town of Lisle a coach +containing three ladies and one man, followed by a travelling chaise +with servants and luggage. Of the ladies, one was approaching middle +age, handsome and elegant; the other two were her daughters, and both +were extremely beautiful and graceful girls, under twenty years of age. +The man was a small, middle-aged person, with a face which one would +have called plain if it had not been that the protruding of his upper +lip and the twinkle in his eyes suggested not plainness, but comedy. The +very soul of comedy was in the gravity of his face; but it was that sort +which is not apparent to all the world. It was the soul of comedy, not +the material part; and most people are disposed to deny the possibility +of comedy's existing except in juxtaposition with the grin through the +horse-collar. Solemnity in a face, with a twinkle in the eye--that is +an expression which comedy may wear without arousing the +curiosity--certainly without exciting the laughter--of the multitude. +And this was exactly the form that the drama of this man's life assumed; +only it was tragedy with a twinkle. Tragedy with a twinkle--that was +Oliver Goldsmith. + +[Illustration: 0203] + +The vehicles drew up in the courtyard of the hotel in the square, and +Dr. Goldsmith, after dismounting and helping the ladies to dismount, +gave orders in French to the landlord in respect of the luggage, and +made inquiries as to the table d'hôte. Shown to their respective rooms, +the members of the party did not meet again for some time, and then it +was in the private _salle_ which they had engaged, looking out upon +the square. The two girls were seated at a window, and their mother was +writing letters at a table at one side. + +When Dr. Goldsmith entered we may be pretty sure that he had exchanged +his travelling dress for a more imposing toilet, and we may be equally +certain that these two girls had something merry to say about the cut or +the colour of his garments--we have abundant record of their _badinage_ +bearing upon his flamboyant liking for colour, and of his retorts in +the same spirit. We have seen him strutting to and fro in gay apparel, +obtrusively calling attention to the beauty of his waistcoat and +speaking in solemn exaggeration of its importance. The girls were well +aware of this form of his humour; they appreciated it to the full, and +responded to it in their merriment. + +Then there came the sound of martial music from the square, and the +elder of the girls, opening the window on its hinges, looked out. A +regiment of soldiers was turning into the square and would pass the +hotel, she said. The two girls stood at one window and Goldsmith at +another while the march past took place. It was not surprising that, +glancing up and seeing the beautiful pair at the window, the mounted +officers at the head of the regiment should feel flattered by the +attention, nor was it unlikely that the others, taking the _pas_ from +their superiors, should look up and exchange expressions in admiration +of the beauty of the young ladies. It is recorded that they did so, and +that, when the soldiers had marched off, the little man at the other +window walked up and down the room in anger “that more attention had +been paid to them than to him.” + +These are the words of Boswell in concluding his account of the episode, +which, by the way, he printed with several other stories in illustration +of the overwhelming vanity and extraordinary envy in Goldsmith's +nature. As if any human being hearing such a story of the most complete +curmudgeon would accept the words as spoken seriously! And yet Boswell +printed it in all solemnity, and hoped that every one who read it would +believe that Goldsmith, the happy-go-lucky Irishman, was eaten up with +envy of the admiration given to the two exquisite girls on whom, by the +way, be conferred immortality; for so long as English literature remains +the names of the Jessamy Bride and Little Comedy will live. Yes, and +so long as discriminating people read the story of Goldsmith's envious +outburst they will not fail to see the true picture of what did actually +take place in that room in the Lisle hotel--they will see the little man +stalking up and down, that solemn face of his more solemn than ever, but +the twinkle in his eyes revealing itself all the more brightly on this +account, while he shakes his fists at the ladies and affirms that the +officers were dolts and idiots to waste their time gazing at them when +they had a chance “of seeing me, madam, me--_me!_” Surely every human +being with the smallest amount of imagination will see the little man +thumping his waistcoat, while the Miss Hornecks hold up their hands and +go into fits of laughter at that whimsical Dr. Goldsmith, whom they had +chosen to be their companion on that tour of theirs through France with +their mother. + +And surely every one must see them in precisely the same attitude, when +they read the story in Boswell's _Life of Johnson_, and notice what +interpretation has been put upon it by the Scotsman--hands uplifted in +amazement and faces “o'er-running with laughter” at the thought of how +Mr. Boswell has, for the thousandth time, been made a fool of by +some one who had picked up the story from themselves and had solemnly +narrated it to Boswell. But in those days following the publication of +the first edition of the _Life_, people were going about with uplifted +hands, wondering if any man since the world began had ever been so +befooled as Boswell. + +When the story appeared in _Johnson's Life_ the two girls had been +married for several years; but one of them at least had not forgotten +the incident upon which it was founded; and upon its being repeated in +Northcote's _Life of Reynolds_, she wrote to the biographer, assuring +him that in this, as well as in other stories of the same nature, the +expression on Goldsmith's face when he professed to be overcome by envy +was such as left no one in doubt that he was jesting. But Croker, in +spite of this, had the impudence to sneer at the explanation, and to +attribute it to the good-nature of the lady. Mr. Croker seems to have +had a special smile of his own for the weaknesses of ladies. This was +the way he smiled when he was searching up old registries of their birth +in his endeavour to prove that they had made themselves out to be six +months younger than they really were. (Quite different, however, must +his smile have been when he read Macaulay's Essay on Croker's edition +of Boswell's _Life of Johnson_). But, unhappily for poor Goldsmith, +Mr. Boswell was able to bring forward much stronger evidence of the +consuming Vanity, the parent of Envy, with which his “honest Dr. +Goldsmith” was afflicted. There was once an exhibition of puppets in +Panton Street, and on some member of the distinguished company in which +he, curiously enough for such a contemptible lout, constantly found +himself, admiring the dexterity with which the wooden figure tossed +a halbert, Goldsmith, we are gravely told, appeared annoyed and said: +“Pshaw! I could do it as well myself!” Supposing that some one had said +to Boswell, “After all, sir, perhaps Dr. Goldsmith could have done it as +well himself,” would the man have tried to explain that the question was +not whether Goldsmith or the puppet was the more dexterous, but +whether it was possible to put any other construction upon Goldsmith's +exclamation than that assumed by Mr. Boswell? + +Yet another instance is given of Goldsmith's envy, and this time the +object of it is not a wooden figure, but Shakespeare himself. He could +not bear, Dr. Beattie tells us, that so much admiration should be given +to Shakespeare. Hearing this, we feel that we are on quite a different +level. There is no jealousy rankling this time in Goldsmith's heart +against a mere puppet. It is now a frantic passion of chagrin that +Shakespeare should still receive the admiration of a chosen few! + +But such vanity as that so strikingly illustrated by this last told +story, is, one must confess with feelings of melancholy, not yet wholly +extinct among literary men. It would scarcely be believed--unless by +Boswell or Beattie--that even in America a man with some reputation as +a writer should deliberately ask people to assume that he himself was +worthy of a place in a group that included not merely Shakespeare, but +also Milton and Homer. “Gentlemen,” said this egregious person at a +public dinner, “Gentlemen, think of the great writers who are dead and +gone. There was Shakespeare, he is dead and gone; and Milton, alas! +is no longer in the land of the living; Homer has been deceased for a +considerable time, and I myself, gentlemen, am not feeling very well +to-night.” + +What a pity it is that Beattie has gone the way of so many other great +writers. If he could only have been laid on to Mark Twain we should have +the most comic biography ever written. + +Goldsmith was, according to the great Boswell and the many lesser +Boswells of his day, the most contemptible wretch that ever wrote the +finest poem of the century, the finest comedy of the century, the +finest romance of the century. He was a silly man, an envious man, an +empty-headed man, a stuttering fool, an idiot (of the inspired variety), +an awkward lout, a shallow pedant, and a generally ridiculous person; +and yet here we find him the chosen companion of two of the most +beautiful and charming young ladies in England on their tour through +France, and on terms of such intimacy with them and their brother, an +officer in the Guards and the son-in-law of a peer, that nicknames are +exchanged between them. A singular position for an Irish lout to find +himself in! + +Even before he is known to fame, and familiar only with famine, he is +visited in his garret by Dr. Percy, a member of the great Northumberland +family at whose town house he lived. So much for the empty-headed fool +who never opened his mouth except to put his foot in it, as a countryman +of his said about quite another person. He was a shallow prig, and yet +when “the Club” was started not one of the original members questioned +his right to a place among the most fastidious of the community, +although Garrick--to the shame of Johnson be it spoken--was not admitted +for nine years. Boswell--to the shame of Johnson be it spoken--was +allowed to crawl in after an exclusion of ten. According to his numerous +detractors, this Goldsmith was one of the most objectionable persons +possible to imagine, and yet we find him the closest friend of the +greatest painter of the day and the greatest actor of the day. He +associates with peers on the friendliest terms, and is the idol of their +daughters. He is accused, on the one hand, of aiming at being accounted +a Macaroni and being extravagant in his dress, and yet he has such a +reputation for slovenliness in this respect that it is recorded that +Dr. Johnson, who certainly never was accused of harbouring unworthy +aspirations to be accounted a beau, made it a point of putting on his +best garments--he may even have taken the extreme step of fastening up +his garters--before visiting Goldsmith, in order, as he explained, that +the latter might have no excuse for his slovenliness. We are also told +that Goldsmith made a fool of himself when he got on his feet to make +a speech, and yet it is known that he travelled through Europe, winning +the hospitality of more than one university by the display of his skill +as a disputant. Again, none of his innumerable traits of awkwardness is +so widely acknowledged as his conversational, and yet the examples which +survive of his impromptu wit are of the most finished type; and (even +when the record is made by Boswell), when he set himself out to take +opposite sides to Johnson, he certainly spoke better sense than his +antagonist, though he was never so loud. It is worth noting that nearly +all the hard things which Johnson is reported to have said respecting +Goldsmith were spoken almost immediately after one of these disputes. +Further, we are assured that Goldsmith's learning was of the shallowest +order, and yet when he was appointed Professor of History to the Royal +Academy we do not hear that any voice was raised in protest. + +What is a simple reader to think when brought face to face with such +contradictory accounts of the man and his attainments? Well, possibly +the best one can do is to say, as Fanny Burney did, that Goldsmith was +an extraordinary man. + +Of course, so far as his writings are concerned there is no need for one +to say much. They speak for themselves, and readers can form their own +opinion on every line and every sentence that has come from his pen. +There is no misunderstanding the character of _The Traveller_ or _The +Deserted Village_ or _The Vicar of Wakefield_. These are acknowledged by +the whole world to be among the most precious legacies of the eighteenth +century to posterity. Who reads nowadays, except out of curiosity, such +classics as _Tristram Shandy, Clarissa Harlow, Evelina, or Rasselas?_ +But who has not read, and who does not still read for pleasure, _The +Vicar of Wakefield?_ Johnson's laborious poem, _The Vanity of Human +Wishes_, now only exists as an example of the last gasp of the +didactic in verse; but we cannot converse without quoting--sometimes +unconsciously--from _The Deserted Village_ When the actor-manager of a +theatre wishes to show how accomplished a company he has at his disposal +he produces _She Stoops to Conquer_, and he would do so more frequently +only he is never quite able to make up his mind whether he himself +should play the part of old Hardcastle, Tony Lumpkin, Young Marlow, +or Diggory. But what other eighteenth-century comedy of all produced +previous to the death of Goldsmith can any manager revive nowadays with +any hope of success? Colman of the eighteenth century is as dead +as Congreve of the seventeenth; and what about the masterpieces of +Cumberland, and Kelly, and Whitehead, and the rest? What about the Rev. +Mr. Home's _Douglas_, which, according to Dr. Johnson, was equal to +Shakespeare at his best? They have all gone to the worms, and these +not even bookworms--their very graves are neglected. But _She Stoops +to Conquer_ is never revived without success--never without a modern +audience recognising the fact that its characters are not the puppets +of the playwright, but the creations of Nature. It is worthy of mention, +too, that the play which first showed the capacity of an actress +whose name was ever at the head of the list of actresses of the last +generation, was founded on _The Vicar of Wakefield._ It was Miss Ellen +Terry's appearance in _Olivia_ in 1878 that brought about her connection +with the ever memorable Lyceum management as an associate of the +greatest actor of our day. + +These things speak for themselves, and prove incontestably that +Goldsmith was head and shoulders above all those writers with whom he +was on intimate terms. But the mystery of the contradictory accounts +which we have of the man himself and his ways remains as unsolved as +ever. + +Yes, unless we assume one thing, namely--that the majority of the people +about him were incapable of understanding him. Is it going too far to +suggest that, as Daniel Defoe was sent to the pillory because his ironic +jest in _The Shortest Way with the Dissenters_ was taken in earnest, and +as good people shuddered at the horrible proposal of Swift that Irish +babies should be cooked and eaten, so Goldsmith's peculiarities of +humour were too subtle to be in any degree appreciated by most of the +people with whom he came in contact in England? + +In Ireland there would be no chance of his being misunderstood; for +there no form that his humour assumed would be regarded as peculiar. +Irony is a figure of speech so largely employed by the inhabitants in +some parts that people who have lived there for any length of time have +heard whole conversations carried on by two or three men without the +slightest divergence from this tortuous form of expression into the +straight path of commonplace English. And all this time there was no +expression but one of complete gravity on the faces of the speakers; +a stranger had no clue whatsoever to the game of words that was being +played before him. + +Another fully recognised form of humour which prevails in Ireland is +even more difficult for a stranger to follow; its basis consists in +mystifying another person, not for the sake of getting a laugh from a +third who has been let into the secret, but simply for the satisfaction +of the mystifier himself. The forms that such a scheme of humour +may assume are various. One of the most common is an affectation of +extraordinary stupidity. It is usually provoked by the deliverance of a +platitude by a stranger. The humourist pretends that he never heard such +a statement before, and asks to have it repeated. When this is done, +there is usually a pause in which the profoundest thought is suggested; +then the clouds are seen to clear away, and the perplexity on the man's +face gives way to intelligence; he has grasped the meaning of the phrase +at last, and he announces his victory with sparkling eyes, and forthwith +puts quite a wrong construction upon the simplest words. His chuckling +is brought to a sudden stop by the amazed protest of the victim against +the suggested solution of the obvious. Thus, with consummate art, the +man is led on to explain at length, with ridiculous emphasis, the exact +meaning of his platitude; but it is all to no purpose. The humourist +shakes his head; he pretends that the cleverness of the other is +too much for him to grasp all in a moment; it's a fine thing to have +learning, to be sure, but these things may be best not meddled with +by ignorant creatures like himself; and so he goes off murmuring his +admiration for the fine display of wisdom that comes so easy-like from +the man whom he has been fooling. + +This form of humour is indulged in by some Irishmen simply for the +satisfaction it gives them to indulge in it. They never hurry off +to acquaint a neighbour with what they have done, and they are quite +pleased with the thought that the person on whom they have been imposing +will tell the whole story of their extraordinary obtuseness to some +one else; it never strikes them that that some one else may fail to see +through the trick, and actually be convinced of the existence of their +obtuseness. But if such a possibility did occur to them, they would be +all the better pleased: they would feel that they had fooled two instead +of one. + +But, of course, the most widely recognised form of Irish humour is that +known as the “bull.” This is the delivery of a paradox so obvious as +to be detected--after a brief consideration--by an Englishman or +even--after an additional space for thought--by a Scotsman. But where +the fun comes in is (in the Irishman's eyes) when the others assume +that the humour of the bull is involuntary; and this is just what the +Englishman has been doing, and what the Irishman has been encouraging +him to do, for centuries. The Englishman is so busy trying to make it +appear that he is cleverer than he really is, he cannot see the humour +of any man trying to make out that he is more stupid than he really +is. Let no one fancy for a moment that the humour of an Irish bull is +involuntary. It is a form of expression that may be due to a peculiar +twist in the Irishman's mind--indeed, every form of humour may be said +to be due to a peculiar twist of the mind--but it is as much a figure +of speech as irony or satire. “Blarney” and “palaver” are other forms +of speech in which the Irish of some generations ago indulged with great +freedom, and both are essentially Irish and essentially humorous, +though occasionally borrowed and clumsily worn on the other side of +the Channel, just as the bernous of the Moor is worn by an English +missionary when lecturing in the village schoolroom (with a +magic-lantern) on The Progress of Christianity in Morocco. + +It would be interesting to make a scientific inquiry into the origin and +the maintenance of all these forms of expression among the Irish; but it +is unnecessary to do so in this place. It is enough if we remind English +readers of the existence of such forms even in the present day, when +there is so little need for their display. It can without difficulty be +understood by any one, however superficially acquainted with the history +of Ireland for the past thousand years, that “blarney” and “palaver” + were as necessary to the existence of the natives of the island as +suspicion and vigilance were to the existence of the invaders. But it is +not so apparent why Irishmen should be given to rush into the extremes +of bragging on the one hand, and self-depreciation on the other. +Bragging is, however, as much an endowment of Nature for the protection +of a species or a race as is imitation or mimicry. The Irishman who was +able by the exercise of this gift to intimidate the invaders, escaped a +violent death and transmitted his art to his children. The practice of +the art of self-depreciation was quite as necessary for the existence of +the Irish race up to the time of the passing of the first Land Act. +For several generations an Irishman was not allowed to own a horse +of greater value than five pounds; and every Irish agriculturist who +improved the miserable cabin which he was supposed to share with his +pigs and his fowl, might rest certain that his rent would be raised out +of all proportion to his improvements. In these circumstances it can +easily be understood that it was accounted a successful joke for a man +who was doing tolerably well to put on a poor face when in the presence +of an inquiry agent of the absent landlord--to run down all his own +efforts and to depreciate generally his holding, and thus to save +himself from the despicable treatment which was meted out to the +unfortunate people by the conquerors of their country. + +It is not necessary to do more than make these suggestions to a +scientific investigator who may be disposed to devote some time to the +question of the origin of certain forms of Irish humour; it is enough +for us, in considering the mystery of that typical Irishman, Oliver +Goldsmith, to know that such forms of humour as we have specified have +an actual existence. Such knowledge is a powerful illuminant to a reader +of Boswell's and Beattie's stories of the stupidity of Goldsmith. A fine +flood of light is thrown upon the apparent mystery of the inspiration +of this idiot--of this man “who wrote like an angel and talked like poor +poll.” + +Goldsmith was just too successful in maintaining that gravity which is +the very essence of those forms of humour in which he was constantly +indulging for his own satisfaction; the mask of gravity was such a good +fit that the short-sighted people who were around him never penetrated +it. He was making fools of the people about him, never giving a thought +to the possibility that they would transmit to posterity the impression +which his attitude conveyed to them, which was that he was a shallow +fool. + +Of course, it would be as absurd to contend that Goldsmith never made a +fool of himself as it would be to assume that Johnson never made a fool +of himself, or that Boswell ever failed to do so. The occasions upon +which he made himself ridiculous must have been numerous, but out of the +many incidents which Boswell and Beattie and Cooke and the others bring +forward as proofs of his stupidity there are few that will not bear to +be interpreted as instances of his practice of a form of humour well +known in Ireland. If his affectation of chagrin at the admiration given +to the Panton Street puppets, followed by the boast, “I could do it as +well myself,” was not humorous, then indeed there is nothing humorous +under the sun. If his object of setting the room roaring with laughter +was not achieved the night when at the club he protested that the +oratory of Burke was nothing--that all oratory, as a matter of fact, was +only a knack--and forthwith stood upon a chair and began to stutter, +all that can be said is that the famous club at Gerrard Street was more +stolid than could be believed. If his strutting about the room where he +and his friends were awaiting a late-comer to dinner, entreating +Johnson and the rest to pay particular attention to the cut of his new +peach-bloom coat, and declaring that Filby, his tailor, had told him +that when any one asked him who had made the garment he was not to +forget Filby's address, did not help materially to enliven the tedium +of that annoying wait, all that can be said is that Thrale, as well as +Boswell, must have been of the party. + +If a novelist, anxious to depict a typical humorous Irishman, were to +show his hero acting as Boswell says Goldsmith acted, would not every +reader acknowledge that he was true to the character of a comical +Irishman? If a playwriter were to put the scene on the stage, would +any one in the audience fail to see that the Goldsmith of the piece was +fooling? Every one in the club--Boswell best of all--was aware of the +fact that Goldsmith had the keenest admiration for Burke, and that +he would be the last man in the world to decry his powers. As for the +peach-bloom coat, it had been the butt of much jesting on the part of +his friends; the elder of the Miss Hornecks had written him a letter of +pretty “chaff” about it, all of which he took in good part. He may have +bought the coat originally because he liked the tint of the velvet; but +assuredly when he found that it could be made the subject of a jest he +did not hesitate to jest upon it himself. How many times have we not +seen in Ireland a man behave in exactly the same way under similar +conditions--a boisterous young huntsman who had put on pink for the +first time, and was strutting with much pride before an admiring group +of servants, every one of whom had some enthusiastic remark to make +about the fit of the coat, until at last the youth, pointing out the +perfection of the gilt buttons, murmured: “Oh, but isn't this a great +day for Ireland!” + +What a pity it was that Mr. Boswell had not been present at such a +scene! Can we not hear his comments upon the character of the young man +who had actually been so carried away by his vanity that he was heard to +express the opinion that the fortunes of his country would be materially +affected by the fact of the buttons of his new coat being gilt? (It +was this same Mr. Boswell, the critic of Goldsmith's all too attractive +costume, who, when going to see Pitt for the first time, put on Corsican +native dress, pretending that he did so in order to interest Pitt in +General Paoli.) + +In reading these accounts of Goldsmith's ways and the remarks of his +associates it must be noticed that some of these gentlemen had now and +again an uneasy impression that there was more in the poet's stupidity +than met the eye. Sir Joshua Reynolds was his closest friend, and it was +the business of the painter to endeavour to get below the surface of +his sitters. The general idea that prevails in the world is that he +was rather successful in his attempts to reproduce, not merely their +features, but their characters as well; and Sir Joshua saw enough +beneath the rude exterior of the man to cause him to feel toward +Goldsmith as he felt for none of his other friends. When the news of his +death was brought to the painter, he laid down his brushes and spent the +day in seclusion. When it is remembered that he spent every day of the +week, not even excepting Sunday, in his studio, the depth of his grief +for the loss of his friend will be understood. Upon more than one +occasion Reynolds asserted that Goldsmith was diverting himself by +trying to make himself out to be more stupid than he really was. Malone, +whose judgment was rarely at fault, whether it was exercised in the +detection of fraud or in the discovery of genius, was in perfect +agreement with Reynolds on this point, and was always ready to +affirm that Boswell was unjust in his remarks upon Goldsmith and the +conclusions to which he came in respect of his character. It is not +necessary for one to have an especially vivid imagination to enable one +to see what was the expression on Malone's face when he came upon the +patronising passage in the _Life of Johnson_ in which Boswell stated +that for his part he was always glad to hear “honest Dr. Goldsmith” + converse. “Puppy!” cried Johnson upon one occasion when a certain +commentator had patronised a text out of all recognition. What would he +have said had he heard Goldsmith patronised by Boswell? + +So far as Goldsmith's actual vanity is concerned, all that can be said +at this time is that had it existed in the offensive form which it +assumes in some of Boswell's stories, Goldsmith would never have won +the friendship of those men and women who were his friends before he had +made a reputation for himself by the publication of _The 'Traveller_. +If he had had an extravagant opinion of his own capacity as a poet, +he would certainly never have suffered Johnson to make an attempt to +improve upon one of his poems; but Goldsmith not only allowed him to do +so, but actually included the lines written by Johnson when he published +the poem. Had he been eaten up by vanity, he would not have gone +wandering down the Mall in St. James's Park while his comedy was being +played for the first time before a delighted house. The really vain man +was the author of The Vanity of Human Wishes, who bought the showiest +set of garments he could find and sat in all their glory in the front +row of the boxes on the night when Garrick produced his tragedy of +_Irene_--Garrick whom he kept out of the Club for nine years simply +because the actor had expressed a wish to become one of the original +members. The really vain man was the one who made his stock story his +account of his conversation with the King in the Royal Library. Every +one sees this now, and every one saw it, except Boswell, when the _Life_ +was flung in the face of a convulsed public, for the public of the year +1791 were as little aware of the real value of the book as the author +was of the true character of his hero and his hero's friend Goldsmith. + +After all, there would be no better way of arriving at a just conclusion +on the subject of Goldsmith's stupidity than by submitting the whole +of the case to an ordinary man accustomed to the many peculiarities of +Irishmen, especially in the exercise of their doubtful gift of humour. +“Here is a man,” we must say, “who became the most intimate friend of +people of title and the dearest friend of many men of brains. When the +most exclusive Club of the day was started his place as a member was not +disputed, even by the man who invented the word 'clubbable,' and knew +what it meant into the bargain; when the Royal Academy of Arts was +started he was invited to become one of its professors. Some of the +wittiest things recorded by the most diligent recorder of witty things +that the world has ever known, were uttered by him. Upon one occasion +when walking among the busts of the poets in Westminster Abbey with a +friend, the latter pointing around said: + +“'_Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis_.' + +“Leaving the Abbey and walking down the Strand to Temple Bar they saw +the heads of the men who had been captured and decapitated for taking +part in the Rebellion of the year 1745, bleaching in the winds in +accordance with the terms of the sentence for high treason. + +“'_Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis_,' murmured the man of +whom we speak. Upon another occasion this same friend of his, who had a +unique reputation for speaking in the most ponderous language, even when +dealing with the simplest matters, asserted that the writing of the +dialogue in some recently published fables where fish were represented +as conversing, was very simple. 'Not so simple at all,' said the other, +'for were you to write them, you would make every minnow talk like a +whale.' + +“In the course of a few years, in addition to compiling histories, which +remained standard educational works for more than a century, and several +other books, he wrote a novel which received the highest praise from the +greatest intellects in Europe, and which is still read with delight by +thousands of people of all nationalities; a poem of which almost every +line is quoted daily in conversation--a poem which contains metaphors +that have been repeated for generations in the Senate, in the Court of +Law, and in the Church; and a play which has been pronounced the truest +comedy in the English language. He died at an early age, and a memorial +of his genius was given a place in Westminster Abbey. The inscription +was written by the most distinguished man of letters in England, and +although highly eulogistic, was considered by the greatest painter in +the world and the greatest orator in the world to fall short of doing +justice to the subject. + +“But, on the other hand, the man of whom we speak was said by a +Scotchman, who himself was occasionally referred to as a cur and +sometimes as an ape, and more than once as a coxcomb, to have been +roused to a frenzy of envy, because some officers, passing through a +square in a French town, looked admiringly at two lovely girls who +were at a window, ignoring him at another window; and again because his +friends spoke with favour of the dexterity of a wooden figure dressed +as a soldier, and yet again (on another authority) because one of +his friends read a passage from Shakespeare, and affirmed that it was +magnificent. Now, would you say,” we should ask the authority to whom we +are supposed to be stating a case--“would you say that this man was in +earnest when, in the first of the instances quoted, he walked up and +down the room in the French hotel asserting 'that although the young +ladies, of whom he was extremely fond, might have their admirers, there +were places where he, too, was given admiration'? Would you say that he +showed ill-temper or wit when, in the second instance, he declared with +warmth that he could toss a halbert quite as well as any wooden figure? +Would you say that----” + +But we should not get any further than this in stating our case to a man +acquainted with the Irish and their humour: he would think that we were +taking a leaf out of the book of Irish humour, and endeavouring to fool +him by asking him to pronounce a grave opinion upon the obvious; he +would not stay to give us a chance of asking him whether he thought that +the temptation of making “Noll” rhyme with “Poll,” was not too great to +be resisted by the greatest farceur of his time, in the presence of a +humorous colleague called Oliver; and whether an impecunious but witty +Irishman begged his greatest friend not to give him the nickname of +Goldy, because his dignity was hurt thereby, or simply because it was +tantalising for one to be called “Goldy,” whose connection with gold was +usually so transitory. + +If people will only read the stories told of poor Goldsmith's vanity, +and envy, and coxcombry, with a handbook of Irish humour beside them, +the conclusion to which they will come must, we think, be that Goldsmith +was an Irishman, and that, on the whole, he made very good fun of +Boswell, who was a Scotsman, but that in the long run Boswell got very +much the better of him. Scotsmen usually laugh last. + + + + +THE BEST COMEDY OF THE CENTURY + +HE occupied one room in the farmhouse--the guest-chamber it had +probably been called when the farm was young. It was a pretty spacious +apartment up one pair of stairs and to the right of the landing, +and from its window there was a pleasing prospect of a paddock with +wheat-fields beyond; there was a drop in the landscape in the direction +of Hendon, and here was a little wood. The farmer's name was Selby, +a married man with a son of sixteen, and younger children, and the +farmhouse was the nearest building to the sixth milestone on the Edgware +Road in the year 1771. + +He was invariably alluded to as “The Gentleman,” and the name did very +well for him, situated as he was in the country; in the town and among +his acquaintances it would serve badly as a means of identification. He +was never referred to as “The Gentleman” of his circle. In his room in +the farmhouse there was his bed and table--a large table littered with +books; it took two chaises to carry his books hither from his rooms in +the Temple. Here he sat and wrote the greater part of the day, and when +he was very busy he would scarcely be able to touch the meals which were +sent up to him from the kitchen. But he was by no means that dignified +type of the man of letters who would shrink from fellowship with the +farmer or his family. He would frequently come down his stairs into +the kitchen and stand with his back to the fire, conversing with the +housewife, and offering her his sympathy when she had made him aware of +the fact that the privilege of being the wife of a substantial farmer, +though undoubtedly fully recognised by the world, carried many troubles +in its train, not only in connection with the vicissitudes of churning, +but in regard to the feeding of the calves, which no man could attend +to properly, and the making of the damson and cowslip wine. He told +her that the best maker of cowslip wine whom he had ever met was a +Mrs. Primrose; her husband had at one time occupied the Vicarage of +Wakefield--he wondered if Mrs. Selby had ever heard of her. Mrs. Selby's +knowledge did not go so far, but she thought that Mrs. Primrose's recipe +must be a good one indeed if it brought forth better results than her +own; and the gentleman said that although he had never tasted Mrs. +Selby's he would still have no hesitation in backing it for flavour, +body, headiness, and all other qualities associated with the +distillation of the cowslip, against the Primrose brand. + +And then he would stare at the gammon in the rafter and mutter some +words, burst into a roar of laughter, and stumble upstairs to his +writing, leaving the good woman to thank Heaven that she was the wife of +a substantial farmer and not of an unsubstantial gentleman of letters, +who could not carry on a simple conversation without having some queer +thought fly across his brain for all the world like one of the swallows +on the water at Hendon, only maybe a deal harder to catch. She knew that +the gentleman had hurried to his paper and ink to complete the capture +of that fleet-flitting thought which had come to him when he had +cast his eyes toward the gammon, though how an idea worth putting on +paper--after a few muttered words and a laugh--could lurk about a common +piece of hog's-flesh was a mystery to her. + +And then upon occasions the gentleman would take a walk abroad; the +farmer's son had more than once come upon him strolling about the fields +with his hands in his pockets and his head bent toward the ground, still +muttering fitfully and occasionally giving a laugh that made the grey +pad in the paddock look up slowly, still munching the grass. Now and +again he paid a visit to his friend Mr. Hugh Boyd at the village of +Kenton, and once he returned late at night from such a visit, without +his shoes. He had left them in a quagmire, he said, and it was only with +a struggle that he saved himself from being engulfed as well. That +was the story of his shoes which young Selby remembered when he was no +longer young. And there was another story which he remembered, but it +related to his slippers. The fact was that the gentleman had acquired +the bad habit of reading in bed, and the table on which his candlestick +stood being several feet away from his pillow, he saved himself the +trouble of rising to extinguish it by flinging a slipper at it. In the +morning the overturned candle was usually found side by side on the +floor with an unaccountably greasy slipper. This method of discharging +an important domestic duty differed considerably from Johnson's way of +compassing the same end. Johnson, being extremely short-sighted, was +compelled to hold the candle close to the book when reading in bed, so +that he had no need to use his slipper as an extinguisher. No, but he +found his pillow very handy for this purpose. When he had finished his +reading he threw away the book and went asleep with his candle under his +pillow. + +The gentleman at the farm went about a good deal in his slippers, and +with his shirt loose at the collar--the latter must have been but one +of his very customary negligences, or Sir Joshua Reynolds would not +have painted him thus. Doubtless the painter had for long recognised the +interpretative value of this loosened collar above that of the velvet +and silk raiment in which the man sometimes appeared before the +wondering eyes of his friends. + +But if the painter had never had an opportunity of studying the +picturesqueness of his negligence, he had more than one chance of doing +so within the farmhouse. + +Young Selby recollected that upon at least one occasion Sir Joshua, his +friend Sir William Chambers, and Dr. Johnson had paid a visit to the +gentleman who lodged at the farm. He remembered that for that reception +of so distinguished a company the farmhouse parlour had been opened and +tea provided. There must have been a good deal of pleasant talk between +the gentleman and his friends at this time, and probably young Selby +heard an astonishingly loud laugh coming from the enormous visitor with +the brown coat and the worsted stockings, as the gentleman endeavoured +to tell his guests something of the strange scenes which he was +introducing in the comedy he was writing in that room upstairs. It was +then a comedy without a name, but young Selby heard that it was produced +the following year in London and that it was called _She Stoops to +Conquer_. + +This was the second year that the gentleman had spent at the farm. The +previous summer he had been engaged on another work which was certainly +as comical as the comedy. It was called _Animated Nature_, and it +comprised some of the most charmingly narrated errors in Natural History +ever offered to the public, and the public have always been delighted +to read pages of fiction if it is only called “Natural History.” This is +one of the best-established facts in the history of the race. After all, +_Animated Nature_ was true to half its title: every page was animated. + +It was while he was so engaged, with one eye on Buffon and another on +his MS., that he found Farmer Selby very useful to him. Farmer Selby +knew a great deal about animals--the treatment of horses under various +conditions, and the way to make pigs pay; he had probably his theories +respecting the profit to be derived from keeping sheep, and how to +feed oxen that are kept for the plough. All such knowledge he must have +placed at the disposal of the author, though the farmer was possibly too +careless an observer of the simple incidents of the fields to be able to +verify Buffon's statement, reproduced in Animated Nature, to the effect +that cows shed their horns every two years; he was probably also +too deficient in the spirit in which a poet sets about the work of +compilation to be able to assent to the belief that a great future +was in store for the zebra when it should become tame and perform the +ordinary duties of a horse. But if the author was somewhat discouraged +in his speculations now and again by Farmer Selby, he did not allow his +fancy as a naturalist to be wholly repressed. He had heard a story of +an ostrich being ridden horsewise in some regions, and of long journeys +being accomplished in this way in incredibly short spaces of time, and +forthwith his imagination enabled him to see the day when this bird +would become as amenable to discipline as the barn-door fowl, though +discharging the tasks of a horse, carrying its rider across England with +the speed of a racer! + +It was while he was engaged on this pleasant work of fancy and +imagination that Mr. Boswell paid him a visit, bringing with him as a +witness Mr. Mickle, the translator of the Lusiad. “The Gentleman” had +gone away for the day, Mrs. Selby explained; but she did not know Mr. +Boswell. She could not prevent him from satisfying his curiosity in +respect of Dr. Goldsmith. He went upstairs to his room, and he was fully +satisfied. He found the walls all scrawled over with outline drawings of +quite a number of animals. Having thus satisfied himself that the author +of _Animated Nature_ was working in a thoroughly conscientious manner he +came away. He records the incident himself, but he does not say whether +or not he was able to recognise any of the animals from their pictures. + +But now it was a professed and not an unconscious comedy that occupied +Dr. Goldsmith. Whatever disappointment he may have felt at the +indifferent success of the first performance of _The Good-Natured +Man_--and he undoubtedly felt some--had been amply redeemed by the money +which accrued to him from the “author's rights” and the sale of the +play; and he had only awaited a little encouragement from the managers +to enable him to begin another comedy. But the managers were not +encouraging, and he was found by his friends one day to be full of +a scheme for the building of a new theatre for the production of new +plays, in order that the existing managers might not be able to carry +on their tyranny any longer. Such a scheme has been revived every decade +since Goldsmith's time, but never with the least success. Johnson, +whose sound sense was rarely at fault, laughed at the poet's project for +bringing down the mighty from their seats, upon which Goldsmith cried: +“Ay, sir, this matter may be nothing to you who can now shelter yourself +behind the corner of your pension,” and he doubtless went on to describe +the condition of the victims of the tyranny of which he complained; but +it is questionable if his doing so effected more than to turn Johnson's +laughter into another and a wider channel. + +But Goldsmith spoke feelingly. He was certainly one of the ablest +writers of the day, but no pension was ever offered to him, though on +every hand bounties were freely bestowed on the most indifferent and +least deserving of authors--men whose names were forgotten before +the end of the century, and during the lifetime of the men themselves +remembered only by the pay clerk to the almoner. + +Of course, the scheme for bringing the managers to their senses never +reached a point of serious consideration; and forthwith Goldsmith began +to illustrate, for the benefit of posterity, the depths to which the +stupidity of the manager of a play-house can occasionally fall. The +public have always had abundant proofs of the managers' stupidity +afforded them in the form of the plays which they produce; but the +history of the production of the most brilliant comedy of the eighteenth +century is practically unique; for it is the history of the stupidity of +a manager doing his best to bring about the failure of a play which he +was producing at his own theatre. He had predicted the failure of the +piece, and it must strike most people that the manager of a theatre who +produces for a failure will be as successful in compassing his end as +a jockey who rides for a fall. Colman believed that he was in the +fortunate position of those prophets who had the realisation of their +predictions in their own hands. He was mistaken in this particular +case. Although he was justified on general principles in assuming his +possession of this power, yet he had made no allowance for the freaks +of genius. He was frustrated in his amiable designs by this incalculable +force--this power which he had treated as a _quantité négligeable_. A +man who has been accustomed all his life to count only on simple ability +in the people about him, is, on suddenly being brought face to face with +genius, like an astronomer who makes out his tables of a new object on +the assumption that it is a fixed star, when all the time it is a comet, +upsetting by its erratic course all his calculations, and demanding to +be reckoned with from a standpoint that applies to itself alone. + +The stars of Colman's theatrical firmament were such as might safely be +counted on; but Goldsmith's genius was not of this order. The manager's +stupidity lay in his blunt refusal to recognise a work of genius when it +was brought to him by a man of genius. + +It has been said that the central idea of the plot of _She Stoops to +Conquer_ was suggested by an incident that came under Goldsmith's notice +before he left Ireland. However this may be, it cannot be denied +that the playing of the practical joke of Tony Lumpkin upon the two +travellers is “very Irish.” It would take a respectable place in the +list of practical jokes of the eighteenth century played in Ireland. In +that island a collector of incidents for a comedy during the past two +centuries would require to travel with a fat notebook--so would the +collector of incidents for a tragedy. Goldsmith's task may not have been +to invent the central idea, but to accomplish the much more difficult +duty of making that incident seem plausible, surrounding it with +convincing scenery and working it out by the aid of the only characters +by which it could be worked out with a semblance of being natural. This +was a task which genius only could fulfil. The room whose walls bore +ample testimony to its occupant's sense of the comedy of a writer's +life, witnessed the supreme achievement in the “animated nature” of +_She Stoops to Conquer_. It contains the two chief essentials to a true +comedy--animation and nature. + +It is certain that the play was constructed and written by Goldsmith +without an adviser. He was possibly shrewd enough to know that if +he were to take counsel with any of his friends--Garrick, Johnson, +Reynolds, or Colman--he would not be able to write the play which he had +a mind to write. The artificial comedy had a vogue that year, and though +it may have been laughed at in private by people of judgment, yet few of +those within the literary circle of which Johnson was the acknowledged +centre, would have had the courage to advise a poet writing a piece in +hopes of making some money, to start upon a plot as farcical as Nature +herself. At that period of elegance in art everything that was natural +was pronounced vulgar. Shakespeare himself had to be made artificial +before he could be played by Garrick. Goldsmith must have known that his +play would be called vulgar, and that its chances of being accepted and +produced by either of the managers in London would be doubtful; but, all +the same, he wrote the piece in accordance with his own personal views, +and many a time during the next two years he must have felt that he was +a fool for doing so. + +However this may be, the play was finished some time in the summer +of 1771; and on September 7th the author was back at his rooms in the +Temple and writing to his friend Bennet Langton, whom he had promised +to visit at his place in Lincolnshire. “I have been almost wholly in the +country at a farmer's house, quite alone, trying to write a comedy. It +is now finished, but when or how it will be acted, or whether it will be +acted at all, are questions I cannot resolve,” he told Langton. + +[Illustration: 0241] + +The misgivings which he had at this time were well founded. He +considered that the fact of his having obtained from Colman a promise to +read any play that he might write constituted an obligation on his part +to submit this piece to Colman rather than to Garrick. He accordingly +placed it in Colman's hands; but it is impossible to say if the work of +elaborate revision which Goldsmith began in the spring of 1772 was +due to the comments made by this manager on the first draft or to the +author's reconsideration of his work as a whole. But the amended version +was certainly in Colman's hands in the summer of this year (1772). +The likelihood is that Colman would have refused point-blank to have +anything to do with the comedy after he had read the first draft had it +not been that just at this time Goldsmith's reputation was increased +to a remarkable extent by the publication of his Histories. It would be +difficult to believe how this could be, but, as usual, we are indebted +to Mr. Boswell for what information we have on this point. Boswell had +been for some time out of London, and on returning he expressed his +amazement at the celebrity which Goldsmith had attained. “Sir,” he cried +to Johnson, “Goldsmith has acquired more fame than all the officers last +war who were not generals!” + +“Why, sir,” said Johnson, “you will find ten thousand fit to do what +they did before you find one who does what Goldsmith has done”--a bit of +dialogue that reminds one of the reply of the avaricious _prima donna_ +when the Emperor refused to accede to her terms on the plea that were +he to pay her her price she would be receiving more than any of his +marshals. “Eh bien, mon sire. Let your marshals sing to you.” + +At any rate, Colman got the play--and kept it. He would give the author +no straightforward opinion as to its prospects in his hands. He refused +to say when he would produce it--nay, he declined to promise that he +would produce it at all. Goldsmith was thus left in torment for month +after month, and the effect of the treatment that he received was to +bring on an illness, and the effect of his illness was to sink him to a +depth of despondency that even Goldsmith had never before sounded. The +story told by Cooke of his coming upon the unhappy man in a coffeehouse, +and of the latter's attempt to give him some of the details of the plot +of the comedy, speaks for itself. “I shook my head,” wrote Cooke, +“and said that I was afraid the audience, under their then sentimental +impressions, would think it too broad and farcical for comedy.” This was +poor comfort for the author; but after a pause he shook the man by the +hand, saying piteously: “I am much obliged to you, my dear friend, for +the candour of your opinion, but it is all I can do; for alas! I find +that my genius, if ever I had any, has of late totally deserted me.” + +This exclamation is the most piteous that ever came from a man of +genius; and there can be no doubt of the sincerity of its utterance, +for it was during these miserable months that he began a new novel, but +found himself unable to get further than a few chapters. And all this +time, when, in order to recover his health, he should have had no +worries of a lesser nature, he was being harassed by the trivial +cares of a poor, generous man's life--those mosquito vexations which, +accumulating, become more intolerable than a great calamity. + +He had once had great hopes of good resulting from Colman's taking up +the management of Covent Garden, and had written congratulations to him +within the first week of his entering into possession of the theatre. +A very different letter he had now to write to the same man. Colman had +endeavoured to evade the responsibility of giving him a direct answer +about the play. He clearly meant that the onus of refusing it should lie +at the door of some one else. + +“Dear Sir,” wrote the author in January, 1773, “I entreat you'll release +me from that state of suspense in which I have been kept for a long +time. Whatever objections you have made or shall make to my play I will +endeavour to remove and not argue about them. To bring in any new judges +either of its merits or faults I can never submit to. Upon a former +occasion when my other play was before Mr. Garrick he offered to bring +me before Mr. Whitehead's tribunal, but I refused the proposal with +indignation. I hope I shall not experience as hard treatment from you +as from him.... For God's sake take the play and let us make the best +of it, and let me have the same measure at least which you have given as +bad plays as mine.” + +Upon receiving this letter, Colman at once returned to him the +manuscript of the play, and on the author's unfolding it he found that +on the back of almost every page, on the blank space reserved for +the prompter's hieroglyphs, some sneering criticism was scrawled. To +emphasise this insult Colman had enclosed a letter to the effect that if +the author was still unconvinced that the piece would be a failure, he, +Colman, would produce it. + +Immediately on receipt of this contemptible effort at contempt Goldsmith +packed up the play and sent it to Garrick at Drury Lane. That same +evening, however, he met Johnson and told him what he had done; and +Johnson, whose judgment on the practical side of authorship was rarely +at fault, assured him that he had done wrong and that he must get the +manuscript back without delay, and submit to Colman's sneers for the +sake of having the comedy produced. Upon Johnson's promising to +visit Colman, and to urge upon him the claims of Goldsmith to his +consideration, the distracted author wrote to Drury Lane: + +“Upon more mature deliberation and the advice of a sensible friend, +I begin to think it indelicate in me to throw upon you the odium of +confirming Mr. Colman's sentence. I therefore request that you will send +my play by my servant back; for having been assured of having it acted +at the other house, though I confess yours in every respect more to my +wish, yet it would be folly in me to forgo an advantage which lies in +my power of appealing from Mr. Colman's opinion to the judgment of the +town.” + +Goldsmith got back the play, and Johnson explained to him, as he did +some years later to Reynolds, that the solicitations which he had made +to Colman to put it in rehearsal without delay amounted almost to force. +At any rate, the play was announced and the parts distributed to the +excellent company which Colman controlled. It was soon proved that he +controlled some members of this company only too well. The spirit in, +which he set about the discharge of his duties as a manager was apparent +to every one during the earliest rehearsals. Johnson, writing to an +American correspondent, mentioned that Colman made no secret of his +belief that the play would be a failure. Far from it. He seems to have +taken the most extraordinary trouble to spread his belief far and wide; +and when a manager adopts such a course, what chance, one may ask, has +the play? What chance, the players could not but ask, have the players? + +This was possibly the only occasion in the history of the English drama +on which such questions could be asked. If managers have a fault at +all--a question which is not yet ripe for discussion--it has never +been in the direction of depreciating a play which they are about to +produce--that is, of course, outside the author's immediate circle. It +is only when the play has failed that they sometimes allow that it was +a bad one, and incapable of being saved even by the fine acting of the +company and the sumptuous mounting. + +But Colman controlled his company all too well, and after a day or two +it was announced that the leading lady, the accomplished Mrs. Abington, +had retired from the part of Miss Hardcastle; that Smith, known as +Gentleman Smith, had refused to play Young Marlow; and that Woodward, +the most popular comedian in the company, had thrown up the part of Tony +Lumpkin. + +Here, in one day, it seemed that Colman had achieved his aims, and the +piece would have to be withdrawn by the author. This was undoubtedly +the managerial view of the situation which had been precipitated by +the manager, and it was shared by those of the author's friends who +understood his character as indifferently as did Colman. They must all +have been somewhat amazed when the author quietly accepted the situation +and affirmed that he would rather that his play were damned by bad +players than merely saved by good acting. One of the company who had the +sense to perceive the merits of the piece, Shuter, the comedian, who was +cast for the part of old Hardcastle, advised Goldsmith to give Lewes, +the harlequin, the part of Young Marlow; Quick, a great favourite with +the public, was to act Tony Lumpkin; and, after a considerable amount +of wrangling, Mrs. Bulkley, lately Miss Wilford, who had been the +Miss Richland of _The Good-Natured Man_, accepted the part which the +capricious Mrs. Abington resigned. + +Another start was made with the rehearsals of the piece, and further +efforts were made by Colman to bring about the catastrophe which he +had predicted. He refused to let a single scene be painted for the +production, or to supply a single new dress; his ground being that the +money spent in this way would be thrown away, for the audience would +never allow the piece to proceed beyond the second act. + +But happily Dr. Johnson had his reputation as a prophet at stake as well +as Colman, and he was singularly well equipped by Nature for enforcing +his views on any subject. He could not see anything of what was going +on upon the stage; but his laugh at the succession of humorous things +spoken by the company must have had an inspiring effect upon every +one, except Colman. Johnson's laugh was the strongest expression of +appreciation of humour of which the century has a record. It was epic. +To say that Johnson's laugh at the rehearsals of _She Stoops to Conquer_ +saved the piece would perhaps be going too far. But can any one question +its value as a counteracting agent to Colman's depressing influence on +the stage? Johnson was the only man in England who could make Colman +(and every one else) tremble, and his laugh had the same effect upon +the building in which it was delivered. It was the Sirocco against a wet +blanket. When one thinks of the feeling of awe which was inspired by +the name of Dr. Johnson, not only during the last forty years of +the eighteenth century, but well into the nineteenth, one begins to +appreciate the value of his vehement expression of satisfaction upon +the people on the stage. Goldsmith dedicated his play to Johnson, and +assuredly the compliment was well earned. Johnson it was who compelled +Colman to produce the piece, and Johnson it was who encouraged the +company to do their best for it, in spite of the fact that they were +all aware that their doing their best for it would be resented by their +manager. + +Reynolds also, another valuable friend to the author, sacrificed several +of his busiest hours in order to attend the rehearsals. His sister's +sacrifices to the same end were perhaps not quite so impressive, nor +were those made by that ingenious “country gentleman,” Mr. Cradock, +referred to by Walpole. Miss Horneck, his beautiful “Jessamy Bride,” + and her sister, lately married to Mr. Bunbury, bore testimony to the +strength of their friendship for the poet, by accompanying him daily to +the theatre. + +But, after all, these good friends had not many opportunities of +showing their regard for him in the same way; for the play must have had +singularly few rehearsals. Scarcely a month elapsed between the date of +Colman's receiving the manuscript on its being returned by Garrick and +the production of the piece. It is doubtful if more than ten rehearsals +took place after the parts were recast. If the manager kept the author +in suspense for eighteen months respecting the fate of his play, he +endeavoured to make up for his dilatoriness now. It was announced for +Monday, March 15th, and, according to Northcote, it was only on the +morning of that day that the vexed question of what the title should be +was settled. For some time the author and his friends had been talking +the matter over. “We are all in labour for a name to Goldy's play,” + wrote Johnson. _The Mistakes of a Night, The Old House a New Inn, and +The Belle's Stratagem_ were suggested in turn. It was Goldsmith himself +who gave it the title under which it was produced. + +On the afternoon of this day, March 15th, the author was the guest at +a dinner-party organised in his honour. It is easy to picture this +particular function. The truth was that Colman's behaviour had broken +the spirit not only of the author, but of the majority of his friends +as well. They would all make an effort to cheer up poor Goldsmith; but +every one knows how cheerless a function is one that is organised with +such charitable intentions. It is not necessary that one should have +been in a court of law watching the face of the prisoner in the dock +when the jury have retired to consider their verdict in order to +appreciate the feelings of Goldsmith when his friends made their attempt +to cheer him up. The last straw added on to the cheerlessness of the +banquet was surely to be found in the accident that every one wore +black! The King of Sardinia had died a short time before, and the Court +had ordered mourning to be worn for some weeks for this potentate. +Johnson was very nearly outraging propriety by appearing in coloured +raiment, but George Steevens, who called for him to go to the dinner, +was fortunately in time to prevent such a breach of etiquette. “I would +not for ten pounds have seemed so retrograde to any general observance,” + cried Johnson in offering his thanks to his benefactor. Happily the +proprieties were saved; but what must have been the effect of the +appearance of these gentlemen in black upon the person whom they meant +to cheer up! + +Reynolds told his pupil, Northcote, what effect these resources of +gaiety had upon Goldsmith. His mouth became so parched that he could +neither eat nor drink, nor could he so much as speak in acknowledgment +of the well-meant act of his friends. When the party after this +entertainment set out for the theatre they must have suggested, all +being in black, a more sombre procession than one is accustomed to +imagine when conjuring up a picture of an eighteenth-century theatre +party. + +And Goldsmith was missing! + +Unfortunately Boswell was not present, or we should not be left in doubt +as to how it happened that no one thought of taking charge of Goldsmith. +But no one seemed to think of him, and so his disappearance was never +noticed. His friends arrived at the theatre and found their places, +Johnson in the front row of the boxes; and the curtain was rung up, +and Goldsmith was forgotten under the influence of that comedy which +constitutes his greatest claim to be remembered by theatre-goers of +to-day. + +He was found by an acquaintance a couple of hours later wandering in the +Mall of St. James's Park, and was only persuaded to go to the theatre by +its being represented to him that his services might be required should +it be found necessary to alter something at the last moment. + +Now, among the members of that distinguished audience there was a man +named Cumberland. He was the author of _The West Indian_ and several +other plays, and he was regarded as one of the leaders of the +sentimental school, the demise of which was satirised in the prologue to +this very play which was being performed. Cumberland was a man who could +never see a particle of good in anything that was written by another. It +was a standing entertainment with Garrick to “draw him on” by suggesting +that some one had written a good scene in a play, or was about to +produce an interesting book. In a moment Cumberland was up, protesting +against the assumption that the play or the book could be worth +anything. So wide a reputation had he for decrying every other author +that when Sheridan produced _The Critic; or, the Tragedy Rehearsed_, his +portrait was immediately recognised in Sir Fretful Plagiary. + +What must have been the feelings of this man when, from the first, the +play, which he had come to wreck, was received by the whole house with +uproarious applause? Well, we don't know what he felt like, but we know +what he looked like. One of the newspapers described him as “looking +glum,” and another contained a rhymed epigram describing him as weeping. +Goldsmith entered the theatre by the stage door at the beginning of the +fifth act, where Tony Lumpkin and his mother appear close to their +own house, and the former pretends that the chaise has broken down on +Crackscull Common. He had no sooner got into the “wings” than he heard +a hiss. “What's that, sir?” he whispered to Colman, who was beside him. +“Psha, sir! what signifies a squib when we have been sitting on a barrel +of gunpowder all night?” was the reply. The story is well known; and +its accuracy has never been im peached. And the next day it was well +known that that solitary hiss came from Cumberland, the opinion that +it was due to the malevolence of Macpherson, whose pretensions to the +discovery of _Ossian_ were exposed by Johnson, being discredited. + +But the effect of Colman's brutality and falsehood into the bargain had +not a chance of lasting long. The hiss was received with cries of “Turn +him out!” and, with an addition to the tumultuous applause of all the +house, Goldsmith must have been made aware in another instant of the +fact that he had written the best comedy of the day and that Colman had +lied to him. From the first there had been no question of sitting on a +barrel of gunpowder. Such applause could never greet the last act of a +play the first four acts of which had been doubtful. He must have felt +that at last he had conquered--that he had by one more achievement +proved to his own satisfaction--and he was hard to satisfy--that those +friends of his who had attributed genius to him had not been mistaken; +that those who, like Johnson and Percy and Reynolds, had believed in +him before he had written the work that made him famous, had not been +misled. + +The next day all London was talking of _She Stoops to Conquer_ and of +Colman. Horace Walpole, who detested Goldsmith, and who found when +he went to see the play that it was deplorably vulgar, mentioned in a +letter which he wrote to Lady Ossory on the morning after the production +that it had “succeeded prodigiously,” and the newspapers were full of +epigrams at the expense of the manager. If Colman had had the sense to +keep to himself his forebodings of the failure of the piece, he would +not have left himself open to these attacks; but, as has been said, he +took as much pains to decry the coming production as he usually did to +“puff” other pieces. It would seem that every one had for several +days been talking about nothing else save the coming failure of Dr. +Goldsmith's comedy. Only on this assumption can one now understand the +poignancy of the “squibs”--some of them partook largely of the character +of his own barrel of gunpowder--levelled against Colman. He must have +been quite amazed at the clamour that arose against him; it became too +much for his delicate skin, and he fled to Bath to get out of the way +of the scurrilous humourists who were making him a target for their +pop-guns. But even at Bath he failed to find a refuge. Writing to Mrs. +Thrale, Johnson said: “Colman is so distressed with abuse that he has +solicited Goldsmith to take him off the rack of the newspapers.” + +It was characteristic of Goldsmith that he should do all that was +asked of him and that he should make no attempt, either in public or in +private, to exult in his triumph over the manager. The only reference +which he made to his sufferings while Colman was keeping him on the rack +was in a letter which he wrote to his friend Cradock, who had written an +epilogue for the play, to explain how it was that this epilogue was not +used at the first representation. After saying simply, “The play has +met with a success beyond your expectation or mine,” he makes his +explanation, and concludes thus: “Such is the history of my stage +adventure, and which I have at last done with. I cannot help saying +that I am very sick of the stage, and though I believe I shall get +three tolerable benefits, yet I shall on the whole be a loser, even in +a pecuniary light; my ease and comfort I certainly lost while it was in +agitation.” + +Goldsmith showed that he bore no grudge against Colman; but the English +stage should bear him a grudge for his treatment of one of the few +authors of real genius who have contributed to it for the benefit of +posterity. If _She Stoops to Conquer_ had been produced when it first +came into the manager's hands, Goldsmith would certainly not have +written the words just quoted. What would have been the result of +his accepting the encouragement of its production it is, of course, +impossible to tell; but it is not going too far to assume that the +genius which gave the world _The Good-Natured Man_ and _She Stoops to +Conquer_ would have been equal to the task of writing a third comedy +equal in merit to either of these. Yes, posterity owes Colman a grudge. + + + + +THE JESSAMY BRIDE + +A PERSONAL NOTE + +FOR some time after the publication of my novel _The Jessamy Bride_ +my time was fully occupied by replying to correspondents--strangers +to me--who were good enough to take an interest in Mary Horneck, the +younger of the two charming sisters with whom Goldsmith associated +for several years of his life on terms of the warmest affection. The +majority of these communications were of a very interesting character. +Only one correspondent told me I should not have allowed Oliver +Goldsmith to die so young, though two expressed the opinion that I +should have made Goldsmith marry Mary Horneck; nearly all the remaining +communications which were addressed to me contained inquiries as to the +origin of the sobriquet applied to Mary Horneck in Goldsmith's epistle. +To each and to all such inquiries I have, alas! been compelled to return +the humiliating reply that I have not yet succeeded in finding out what +was the origin of the family joke which made Goldsmith's allusions to +“The Jessamy Bride” and “Little Comedy” intelligible to the “Devonshire +Crew” of Hornecks and Reynoldses. I have searched volume after volume +in the hope of having even the smallest ray of light thrown upon this +matter, but I have met with no success. I began to feel, as every post +brought me a sympathetic inquiry as to the origin of the pet name, +that I should take the bold step of confessing my ignorance to the one +gentleman who, I was confident, could enlighten it. “If Dr. Brewer does +not know why Mary Horneck was called 'The Jessamy Bride,' no one alive +can know it,” was what I said to myself. Before I could write to +Dr. Brewer the melancholy new's came of his death; and very shortly +afterwards I got a letter from his daughter, Mrs. Brewer Hayman, in +which she mentioned that her lamented father had been greatly interested +in my story, and asked if I could tell her what was the meaning of the +phrase. + +It does certainly seem extraordinary that no biographer of Goldsmith, +of Reynolds, or of Burke, should have thought it worth while writing a +letter to the “Jessamy Bride” herself to ask her why she was so called +by Goldsmith. The biographers of Goldsmith and the editors of Boswell +seem to have had no hesitation in stating that Mary Horneck was the +“Jessamy Bride,” and that her elder sister was “Little Comedy”; but +they do not appear to have taken a wider view of their duties than was +comprised in this bare statement. The gossipy Northcote was surely in +the secret, and he might have revealed the truth without detracting from +the interest of the many inaccuracies in his volume. Northcote had +an opportunity of seeing daily the portrait of Mary which Sir Joshua +painted, and which hung in his studio until the day of his death, when +it passed into the possession of the original, who had become Mrs. Gwyn, +having married Colonel, afterwards General, Gwyn. + +But although up to the present I have not obtained even as much evidence +as would be termed a clue by the sanguine officers of Scotland Yard, as +to the origin of the sobriquet, I am not without hope that some day one +of my sympathetic correspondents will be able to clear up the matter for +me. I am strengthened in this hope by the fact that among those who were +kind enough to write to me, was a lady who can claim relationship +to Mary Horneck, and who did not hesitate to send to me a bundle of +letters, written in the early part of the century by the “Jessamy +Bride” herself, with permission to copy and print any portion of the +correspondence that I might consider of interest. Of this privilege I +gladly avail myself, feeling sure that the interest which undoubtedly +attaches to many portions of the letters will exculpate me for the +intrusion of a personal note into these papers. + +The grandfather of my correspondent (Mrs. Cor-ballis, of Ratrath, co. +Meath, Ireland) was first cousin to the Hornecks. He was the Rev. George +Mangles, chaplain to George III when Mrs. Gwyn (Mary Horneck) was Woman +of the Bedchamber to the Queen. As General Gwyn was Equerry to the King +it can easily be understood that the two families should be on terms of +the most intimate friendship. My correspondent mentions that her mother, +who only died thirteen years ago, was almost every year a visitor at the +house of Mrs. Gwyn, at Kew, and said that she retained her beauty up +to the very last. Confirmation of this statement is to be found in a +passage in the “Jerningham Letters.” Lady Bedingfeld's Journal contains +the following entry opposite the date “September 19th, 1833”: + +“When the Queen returned to the drawing-room we found several ladies +there. I observed a very old lady with striking remains of beauty, and +whose features seemed very familiar to me. I felt to know her features +by heart, and at last I heard her name, Mrs. Gwyn, the widow of a +General, and near ninety! I had never seen her before, but when I was a +girl my uncle the Poet, gave me a portrait of her, copied from Sir Jos. +Reynolds, small size in a Turkish costume and attitude. This picture is +still at Cossey, and of course must be very like her since it led me to +find her out.” + +[Illustration: 0261] + +The picture referred to must certainly have been “very like” the +original, for it was painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds in 1772, sixty-one +years before. The engraving of it cannot but make one feel how exquisite +must have been the charm of Goldsmith's young friend, who survived him +by sixty-six years; for Mrs. Gywn did not die until 1840. + +Very pathetic indeed it is to look at the sweet girlish face, which +appears in this portrait and also in that of the two sisters done in +chalk by the same master-hand, and then to read some of the passages in +the letters in which the writer refers to her old age and feebleness. +Happily, with Lady Bedingfeld's diary before us, our imagination is not +largely drawn on for a picture of the “Jessamy Bride” broken down by age +and infirmity. The woman who can be easily recognised by a stranger +at seventy-nine by her likeness to a portrait painted at the age of +eighteen, would make Ninon de l'Enclos envious. + +The letters are written to Mrs. Mangles, the widow of the Chaplain +to George III, and the majority touch upon private matters with +sprightliness, and occasionally a delicate humour, such as Goldsmith +would certainly have appreciated. We seem to hear, while reading these +passages, faint echoes of the girlish laughter which must have rung +through that room in the inn at Calais, when Goldsmith paced up and +down in a mock fury because two officers passing the window looked more +eagerly at the girls than at him. + +It is obvious, however, that the Queen's Woman of the Bedchamber would +write occasionally to her friend on some topic of public interest; +consequently we find, in the course of the correspondence, many passages +which throw a flood of light upon the incidents of the day. In a letter +dated April 10th, 1818, + +Mrs. Gwyn describes with great sprightliness the wedding of the +Princess Elizabeth, the third daughter of George III, with Prince +Hesse-Hombourgh, which took place three days before: + +“I delayed to write till after the marriage to tell you about it, as +you seemed to wish it. We were all appointed at seven o'clock in +the evening, when I went as smart as I could make myself. I wore the +lavender sattin robe, the same you saw me wear at Court, as the shape +was the same, and it _saved buying_, trimmed with silver, a new white +sattin petticoat, with a white net and silver over it, no hoop, but a +Court head dress, and lappets down. The Company consisting of the great +officers of state, and ambassadors and their wives, and the different +households were the Company. + +“At 8 all were assembled when the Royal family in procession according +to their rank, went into the great drawing-room in the Queen's house. +The Duke of York led the Queen, the Prince Regent not being quite +recovered of his gout, and it is said the remembrance of his poor +daughter's marriage was too painful to him to undertake it. Before the +state canopy was set a fine communion table, red velvet and gold, all +the gold plate belonging to that service arranged behind it, and 3 +Bishops and other clergymen standing behind the table, it looked very +magnificent. Then came the _Hero_, the Prince Hesse Hombourgh, he went +up to the table and stood there, I believe 10 minutes alone, he looked +well a manly unembarassed figure, then walked in the Bride glittering +with silver and diamonds, and really looked very handsome, and her +behaviour and manner was as well as possible, grace and quiet, when she +knelt she wept, and then he approached nearer her in case her emotion +would require his care, which happily was not the case. The Duke of York +gave her away, and behaved very bad. The Prince Hombourgh thought when +he had said I will very loud and distinct, all was done, but the Arch +Bishop desired him to repeat after him, which he was therefore obliged +to do. He cannot speak English and made such works of it, it was then +the Duke of York laughed so, he was obliged to stuff his handkerchief +in his mouth to conceal it. He promised to love her. When all was over +he saluted his bride on each side the face, and then her hand, with a +good-natured frank manner, then led her to the Queen, whose hand only he +kissed, the rest of the Royal family he embraced after his own fashion, +and he led her off with a very good air, and did not seem to trouble his +head about his _English performance_.” The Princess Elizabeth--the shy +young bride who was so overcome with emotion--had scarcely more than +passed her forty-ninth year when she was borne to the altar, and the +hero of the hour was, we learn from other sources than Mrs. Gwyn's +letters, most unheroically sick when driving away in a close carriage +with his bride. + +The Prince Regent's daughter, the Princess Charlotte, had died the +previous year, hence the marrying panic which seized all the other +members of the Royal Family, lest the dynasty should become extinct. It +is pleasing to reflect that such gloomy apprehensions have since been +amply averted. + +Regarding the death of the Princess Charlotte Mrs. Gwyn writes: + +“... While I was at Oatlands the Prince Leopold came to see the Duchess +and staid there 3 hours, no one but the Duchess saw him--she told me he +is more composed in his manners now when seen by people in general but +with her alone his grief seems the same and he is gratified by being +allowed to vent it to one who feels for him and knows how to soothe his +mind. I can not doubt the Princess's life and his child's were thrown +away, by mismanagement--she was so bled and starved she had no strength +left--her own fortitude and energy supported her till nature could no +more. I could tell you much on the subject but it would take up too much +in a letter and besides _it is over_. Dr. Crofts thought he was doing +for the best no doubt--It comes to what _I_ always say of them--they +can't do much and are very often wrong in their opinions as you can +vouch....” + +In another letter Mrs. Gywn's adopted daughter was her amanuensis. It +contains many paragraphs of interest, especially to present-day readers. +The girl writes: + +“Mamma was of course summoned to attend the Duke of Cambridge's Wedding, +but she was not in the room when the Ceremony was performed as before, +on account of the Queen having been ill. Mamma admires the Duchess of +Cambridge very much: though she is not exactly handsome, she is very +pleasing, and a pretty figure, but I understand she must have a new +stay maker to set her up etc. The Duke of Kent and his bride are now +expected. The Duke of Clarence it is expected will be married shortly +afterwards. We hear the Duchess of Kent is a little woman with a +handsome face, and the Duchess of Clarence uncommonly ugly. We went to +Windsor about a month ago to see Princess Sophia as the Queen was not +there, and Princess Sophia has a small party every night. We were there +three days, and Mamma went to the party every evening, and indeed it was +very very dull for her as they play one pool of Commerce, and then they +go to a game called Snip, Snap, Snorum, and which Mamma could not play +at well without a great deal of trouble to herself, therefore she was +obliged to look on for perhaps an hour and half which you may imagine +was terrible for her not hearing a word. I was much pleased in one +respect while I was there by seeing Dear Prince Leopold whom I had +never seen before, and who must be to every body an object of so much +interest. He looked to me the picture of grief and melancholy, but those +who have seen him repeatedly since his misfortune say he improves every +time they see him. Mrs. C.... went one day to see Claremont and was very +much pleased. All remains as Princess Charlotte left it, but nobody sees +her room in which she died but himself, even her combs and brushes are +untouched, and her hat and cloak are where she laid them the day before +she died. There are models of her hand and arm one in particular as it +is his hand clasped in hers. I suppose you have often heard she had a +very beautiful hand and arm, but I will not go on, on so melancholy a +subject; yet I am sure it must interest you.” + +The Princess Sophia, who instituted the fascinating game referred to in +this letter, was, of course, the fifth daughter of George III. + +In another letter reference is made to a certain scandal, which Mrs. +Gwyn contradicts most vehemently. Even nowadays this particular bit of +gossip is remembered by some persons; but at the risk of depriving these +pages of the piquancy which attaches to a Court scandal, I will not +quote it, but conclude this Personal Note with what seems to me a most +pathetic account of the dying king: + +“We continue in a state of great anxiety about our dear King, whose +state is distressing. Certainly no hope of recovery, and the chances of +his continuance very doubtful. His death may be any day, any hour, or he +may continue some _little_ time longer, it depends on nature holding +out against sore disease, which afflicts him universally, and occasions +great suffering, this is heartbreaking to hear! and his patience and +courage and sweet and kind behaviour to all about him is most touching, +so affectionate to his friends and attendants, and thankful for their +attention and feeling for him. He will hold the hand of the Duchess of +Gloster or S. H. Halford for an hour at a time out of tenderness, till +excessive suffering ends it. He wishes to die in peace and charity with +all the world, and has reconciled himself to the Duke of Sussex. He +hopes his people have found him a merciful King. He says he never hurt +anyone, and that, he may truly say as his first wish to _all_ was good +and benevolent, and ever ready to forgive.” + + + + +THE AMAZING ELOPEMENT + +ON a certain evening in March, 1772, the fashionable folk of Bath +were as earnestly on pleasure bent as they were wont to be at this +season--and every other. The Assembly Rooms were open, a performance was +going on at the theatre, the Cave of Harmony was as musical as Pyrrha's +Grotto, a high-class concert was taking place under the conductorship of +the well-known Mr. Linley, and the Countess of Huntingdon was holding a +prayer meeting. For people who took their diversions _à la carte_, there +was a varied and an abundant menu. Chairs containing precious structures +of feathers, lace, and jewels towering over long faces powdered and +patched and painted _à la mode_, were swinging along the streets in +every direction, some with a brace of gold-braided lackeys by each of +the windows, but others in charge only of the burly chairmen. + +Unobtrusive among the latter class of conveyance was one that a young +gentleman, a tall and handsome lad, called from its rank between +Pierrepont Street and the South Parade. He gave the bearers instructions +to hasten to the house of Mr. Linley in the Crescent, and to inquire if +Miss Linley were ready. + +If she were not, he told them that they were to wait for her and carry +out her directions. The fellows touched their hats and swung off with +their empty chair. + +The young man then went to a livery stable, and putting a few +confidential inquiries to the proprietor, received a few confidential +replies, accentuated by a wink or two, and a certain quick uplifting of +a knuckly forefinger that had an expression of secretiveness of its own. + +“Mum's the word, sir, and mum it shall be,” whispered the man. “I stowed +away the trunk, leaving plenty of room for the genuine luggage--lady's +luggage, Mr. Sheridan. You know as well as I can tell you, sir, being +young but with as shrewd knowingness of affairs in general as might be +looked for in the son of Tom Sheridan, to say nought of a lady like your +mother, meaning to take no liberty in the world, Mr. Dick, as they call +you.” + +“I'm obliged to you, Denham, and I'll not forget you when this little +affair is happily over. The turn by the 'Bear' on the London Road, we +agreed.” + +“And there you'll find the chaise, sir, and as good a pair as ever left +my stable, and good luck to you, sir!” said the man. + +Young Mr. Sheridan then hastened to his father's house in King's Mead +Street, and was met by an anxious sister in the hall. + +“Good news, I hope, Dick?” she whispered. + +“I have been waiting for you all the evening. She has not changed her +mind, I hope.” + +“She is as steadfast as I am,” said he. “If I could not swear that she +would be steadfast, I would not undertake this business on her behalf. +When I think of our father----” + +“Don't think of him except as applauding your action,” said the girl. +“Surely every one with the least spark of generosity will applaud your +action, Dick.” + +“I wouldn't like to say so much,” said Dick, shaking his head. “Mathews +has his friends. No man could know so much about whist as he does +without having many friends, even though he be a contemptible scoundrel +when he is not employed over a rubber.” + +“Who will dare to take the part of Mr. Mathews against you, Dick?” cried +his sister, looking at him proudly as the parlour candles shone upon +him. “I would that I could go with you as far as London, dear, but that +would be impossible.” + +“Quite impossible; and where would be the merit in the end?” said Dick, +pacing the room as he believed a man of adventure and enterprise would +in the circumstances. “You may trust to me to place her in safety +without the help of any one.” + +“I know it, Dick, I know it, dear, and I am proud of you,” said she, +putting her arms about his neck and kissing him. “And look you here, +Dick,” she added, in a more practical tone. “Look you here--I find that +I can spare another five pounds out of the last bill that came from +Ireland. We shall live modestly in this house until you return to us.” + +He took the coins which she offered to him wrapped up in a twist of +newspaper; but he showed some hesitation--she had to go through a form +of forcing it upon him. + +“I hope to bring it back to you unbroken,” he murmured; “but in affairs +of this sort it is safest to have a pound or two over, rather than +under, what is barely needful. That is why I take your coins,--a loan--a +sacred loan. Good-bye, I returned only to say good-bye to you, my +dearest sister.” + +“I knew your good heart, Dick, that was why I was waiting for you. +Good-bye, Dick, and God bless you.” + +He was putting on his cloak in the hall. He saw that the pistols were +in its pockets, and then he suffered his sister to give him another kiss +before he passed into the dark street. + +He felt for his pistols, and with a hand on each he felt that he was +indeed fairly launched upon a great adventure. + +He made his way to the London road, and all the time he was wondering if +the girl would really come to him in the Sedan chair which he had sent +for her. To be sure she had promised to come upon this evening, but he +knew enough of the great affairs of this world to be well aware of the +fact that the sincerest promise of a maid may be rendered worthless +by the merest freak of Fate. Therefore, he knew that he did well to +be doubtful respecting the realisation of her promise. She was the +beautiful Miss Linley--every one in Bath knew her, and this being so, +was it not likely that some one--some prying person--some impudent +fellow like that Mathews who had been making love to her, although +he had a wife of his own in Wales--might catch a glimpse of her face +through the glass of the chair when passing a lamp or a link, and be +sufficiently curious to follow her chair to see whither she was going? + +That was a likely enough thing to happen, and if it did happen and the +alarm of his flight with her were given, what chance would he have of +carrying out his purpose? Why, the chaise would be followed, and even if +it was not overtaken before London was reached, the resting-place of the +fugitives would certainly be discovered in London, and they should be +ignominiously brought back to Bath. Yes, unless Mathews were the +pursuer, in which case---- + +Mr. Richard Brinsley Sheridan grasped more firmly the butt of the pistol +in the right-hand pocket of his cloak. He felt at that moment that +should Mathews overtake them, the going back to Bath would be on the +part only of Mathews. + +But how would it be if Mr. Linley had become apprised of his daughter's +intention to fly from Bath? He knew very well that Mr. Linley had +the best of reasons for objecting to his daughter's leaving Bath. Mr. +Linley's income was increased by several hundred pounds by reason of the +payments made to him on account of his daughter's singing in public, +and he was--very properly, considering his large family--fond of money. +Before he had to provide for his family, he took good care that his +family--his eldest daughter particularly--helped to provide for him. + +Doubtless these eventualities were suggested to him--for young Mr. +Sheridan was not without imagination--while on his way through the dark +outskirts of the beautiful city to the London Road. The Bear Inn was +just beyond the last of the houses. It stood at the junction of the +London Road and a narrower one leading past a couple of farms. It was +here that he had given instructions for the chaise to wait for him, and +here he meant to wait for the young lady who had promised to accompany +him to London--and further. + +He found the chaise without trouble. It was under the trees not more +than a hundred yards down the lane, but the chair, with Miss Linley, +had not yet arrived, so he returned to the road and began to retrace his +steps, hoping to meet it, yet with some doubts in his mind. Of course, +he was impatient. Young gentlemen under twenty-one are usually impatient +when awaiting the arrival of the ladies who have promised to run away +with them. He was not, however, kept in suspense for an unconscionably +long time. He met the chair which he was expecting just when he had +reached the last of the lamps of Bath, and out of it stepped the muffled +form of Miss Linley. The chairmen were paid with a lavish hand, and Dick +Sheridan and Betsy Linley walked on to the chaise without exchanging any +but a friendly greeting--there was nothing lover-like in their meeting +or their greeting. The elopement was not that of a young woman with her +lover; it was, we are assured, that of a young woman anxious to escape +from the intolerable position of being the most popular person in the +most fashionable city in England, to the peaceful retreat of a convent; +and the young man who was to take charge of her was one whom she had +chosen for her guardian, not for her lover. Dick Sheridan seems to have +been the only young man in Bath who had never made love to Elizabeth +Linley. His elder brother, Charles by name, had discharged this duty on +behalf of the Sheridan family, and he was now trying to live down his +disappointment at being refused, at a farmhouse a mile or two away. The +burden was greater than he could bear when surrounded by his sisters in +their father's house in King's Mead Street. + +[Illustration: 0277] + +Elizabeth Linley was certainly the most popular young woman in Bath; she +certainly was the most beautiful. The greatest painters of her day made +masterpieces of her portrait, and for once, posterity acknowledges that +the fame of her beauty was well founded. So spiritual a face as hers is +to be seen in no eighteenth-century picture except that of Miss Linley; +one has need to go back to the early Italian painters to find such +spirituality in a human face, and then one finds it combined with +absolute inanity, and the face is called Divine. Reynolds painted her as +Saint Cecilia drawing down angels, and blessedly unconscious of her own +powers, thinking only of raising herself among angels on the wings +of song. His genius was never better employed and surely never more +apparent than in the achievement of this picture. Gainsborough painted +her by the side of her younger brother, and one feels that if Reynolds +painted a saint, Gainsborough painted a girl. It was Bishop O'Beirne, +an old friend of her family and acquainted with her since her childhood, +who said: “She is a link between an angel and a woman.” + +And this exquisite creature had a voice of so sympathetic a quality that +no one could hear it unmoved. Her father had made her technique perfect. +He was a musician who was something more than painstaking. He had taste +of the highest order, and it is possible to believe that in the training +of his eldest daughter he was wise enough to limit his instruction to +the technicalities of his art, leaving her to the inspiration of her own +genius in regard to the treatment of any theme which he brought before +her. + +At any rate her success in the sublimest of all oratorios was far beyond +anything that could be achieved by an exhibition of the finest technical +qualities; and Mr. Linley soon became aware of the fact that he was the +father of the most beautiful and the most highly gifted creature that +ever made a father miserable. + +Incidentally she made a great many other men miserable, but that was +only because each of them wanted her to make him happy at the expense +of the others, and this she was too kind-hearted to do. But the cause of +her father's grief was something different. It was due to the fact +that the girl was so sensitive that she shrank from every exhibition of +herself and her ability on a public platform. It was an agony to her to +hear the tumultuous applause that greeted her singing at a concert or in +an oratorio. She seemed to feel--let any one look at the face which +is to be seen in her portrait, and one will understand how this could +be--that music was something too spiritual to be made the medium only +for the entertainment of the multitude. Taking the highest imaginable +view of the scope and value and meaning of music, it can be understood +that this girl should shrink from such an ordeal as the concert platform +offered to her every time she was announced to sing. No more frivolous +and fashionable a population than that of Bath in the second half of +the eighteenth century was to be found in any city in the world; and +Elizabeth Linley felt that she was regarded by the concert-goers as no +more than one of the numerous agents they employed to lessen the ennui +of an empty day. The music which she worshipped--the spirit with which +her soul communed in secret--was, she felt, degraded by being sold to +the crowd and subjected to the patronage of their applause. + +Of course when she spoke to her father in this strain he sympathised +with her, and bemoaned the fate that made it necessary for him to +have her assistance to save her mother and brothers and sisters from +starvation. And so for several years she was an obedient child, but +very weary of the rôle. She sang and enchanted thousands. She did not, +however, think of them; her mind dwelt daily upon the tens of thousands +who regarded her (she thought) as fulfilling no nobler purpose than to +divert them for half an hour between taking the waters and sitting down +to faro or quadrille. + +But it was not alone her distaste for the publicity of the platform that +made her miserable. The fact was that she was distracted by suitors. She +had, it was said, accepted the offer of an elderly gentleman named Long, +the wealthy head of a county family in the neighbourhood; and Foote, +with his usual vulgarity, which took the form of personality, wrote +a play--a wretched thing even for Foote--in which he dealt with an +imaginarily comic and a certainly sordid situation, with Miss Linley +on the one side and Mr. Long on the other. Serious biographers have not +hesitated to accept this situation invented by the notorious _farceur_, +who was no greater a respecter of persons than he was of truth, as a +valuable contribution to the history of the Linley family, especially +in regard to the love affair of the lovely girl by whose help they were +made famous. They have never thought of the possibility of her having +accepted Mr. Long in order to escape from her horror of the concert +platform. They have never suggested the possibility of Mr. Long's +settling a sum of money on her out of his generosity when he found out +that Miss Linley did not love him. + +It was not Mr. Long, however, but a man named Mathews--sometimes +referred to as Captain, occasionally as Major--who was the immediate +cause of her running away with young Sheridan. This man Mathews was +known to be married, and to be in love with Elizabeth Linley, and yet +he was allowed to be constantly in her company, pestering her with his +attentions, and there was no one handy to horsewhip him. Sheridan's +sister, who afterwards married Mr. Lefanu, wrote an account of this +curious matter for the guidance of Thomas Moore, who was preparing his +biography of her brother. She stated that Miss Linley was afraid to tell +her father of Major Mathews and his impossible suit, and so she was “at +length induced to consult Richard Sheridan, whose intimacy with Major +Mathews, at the time, she thought might warrant his interference.” And +then we are told that “R. B. Sheridan sounded Mathews on the subject and +at length prevailed on him to give up the pursuit.” + +That is how the adoring sister of “R. B. Sheridan,” who had been talking +to Elizabeth Linley of him as of a knight-errant, eager to redress the +wrongs of maidens in distress, wrote of her brother! He “sounded Mathews +on the subject.” On what subject? The subject was the pursuit of an +innocent girl by a contemptible scoundrel. How does the knight-errant +“sound” such a person when he sets out to redress the maiden's +ill-treatment? One R. B. Sheridan, a dramatist, gives us a suggestion as +to what were his ideas on this point: “Do you think that Achilles or my +little Alexander the Great ever enquired where the right lay? No, sir, +they drew their broadswords and left the lazy sons of peace to settle +the rights of the matter.” Now young Sheridan, who is reported by his +sister as “sounding” Mathews, was no coward. He proved himself to be +anything but afraid of Mathews, so that one must, out of justice to him, +assume that the only attempt he would have made to “sound” the scoundrel +at this time would be through the medium of a sound hiding. + +It is at such a point as this in the biography of an interesting man +that one blesses the memory--and the notebook--of the faithful Boswell. +Thomas Moore was quite intimate with Richard Brinsley Sheridan, but +he never thought of asking him for some information on this particular +incident in his life, the fact being that he had no definite intention +of becoming his biographer. We know perfectly well how Boswell would +have plied Johnson with questions on the subject, had it ever come +to his ears that Johnson had undertaken to play the rôle of a +knight-errant. + +“Pray, sir, what did you say to Mathews when you sounded him?” + +“Do you think, sir, that in any circumstances a married gentleman who is +showing marked attentions to a virtuous young lady should be sounded by +a young gentleman who has been entrusted with the duty of protecting the +lady?” + +Alas! instead of the unblushing indelicacy of Boswell, who hunted for +trifles as a pig hunts for truffles, we are obliged to be content with +the vagueness of a sister, whose memory, we have an uneasy feeling, was +not quite so good as she thought it was. + +And from the memory of this sister we have an account of the amazing +elopement of Richard Sheridan with Elizabeth Linley. + +When the young gentleman put her into the chaise that was waiting for +them on the London road, Miss Linley had never thought of him except as +a kind friend. She had accepted his services upon this occasion as she +would those of a courier to conduct her to London, and thence to France, +where she intended to enter a convent. The Miss Sheridans had lived in +France, and had some friends at St. + +Quentin, who knew of a very nice clean convent--an establishment which +they could strongly recommend, and where she could find that complete +seclusion which Miss Linley longed for, and their brother Dick was +thought to be a very suitable companion for her on her way thither. Mrs. +Lefanu (_née_ Sheridan), who wrote out the whole story in after years, +mentioned that her chivalrous brother was to provide a woman to act as +her maid in the chaise; but as not the least reference to this chaperon +is to be found in the rest of the story, we fear that it must be assumed +either that her brother forgot this unimportant detail, or that the +detail was unavoidably detained in Bath. What is most likely of all is +that the solitary reference to this mysterious female was dovetailed, +somewhat clumsily, into the narrative, at the suggestion of some +Mrs. Grundy, who shook her head at the narrative of so much chivalry +unsupported by a responsible chaperon. However this may be, the shadowy +chaperon is never alluded to again; she may have faded away into the +mists of morning and London, or she may have vanished at the first +turnpike. Nothing was seen or heard of her subsequently. + +The boy and the girl reached London in safety, and drove to the house +of a Mr. Ewart, a relation of the Sheridans, to whom Dick offered the +explanation of his unconventional visit on the very plausible grounds +of his being engaged to the young lady, a great heiress, whom he was +hastening to France to marry. Of course the Ewart family were +perfectly satisfied with this explanation; and another friend, who had +indisputable claims to consideration, being, we are told, “the son of +a respectable brandy merchant in the City,” suggested that they should +sail from London to Dunkirk, “in order to make pursuit more difficult.” + How such an end could be compassed by such means is left to the +imagination of a reader. The young pair, however, jumped at the +suggestion, and reached Dunkirk after an uneventful crossing. + +It is at this point in the sister's account of the itinerary of this +interesting enterprise that she mentions that Richard suddenly threw +away the disguise of the chivalrous and disinterested protector of the +young lady, and declared that he would not consent to conduct her to the +convent unless she agreed to marry him immediately. Mrs. Lefanu's exact +words are as follows: “After quitting Dunkirk Mr. Sheridan was more +explicit with Miss Linley as to his views on accompanying her to +France.” + +This is certainly a very lawyer-like way of condoning the conduct of +a mean scoundrel; but, happily for the credit of Richard Brinsley +Sheridan, it is the easiest thing in the world to discredit his sister's +narrative, although she adds that he urged on the girl what would seem +to a casual observer of society in general to be perfectly true--“she +must be aware that after the step she had taken, she could not appear +in England but as his wife.” As the sequel proved this alleged statement +was quite untrue! She did appear in England, and not as his wife, and +no one seemed to think anything the worse of her on account of her +escapade. But to suggest that Sheridan took advantage of the trust +which the innocent girl had reposed in him to compel her to marry him, +a penniless minor with no profession and very little education, is +scarcely consistent with an account of his high-mindedness and his sense +of what was chivalrous. + +And then the sister pleasantly remarks that “Miss Linley, who really +preferred him greatly to any person, was not difficult to persuade, and +at a village not far from Calais the marriage ceremony was performed +by a priest who was known to be often employed upon such occasions.” + Whoever this clergyman may have been, it is impossible for any one to +believe that in the discharge of his office he was kept in constant +employment; for “such occasions” as answered to the account given by +the Sheridan sister of the nuptials of the young couple, must have been +extremely rare. + +And yet Moore, on whom the responsibilities of a biographer rested very +lightly, was quite content to accept as strictly accurate the narrative +of Mrs. Lefanu, contradicted though it was by subsequent events in which +both her brother and Miss Linley were concerned. Moore does not seem to +have troubled himself over any attempt to obtain confirmation of one +of the most important incidents in the life of the man of whom he was +writing. + +He made no attempt to discover if the accommodating priest at the +village near Calais was still alive when he was compiling his biography +of Sheridan, and it was not beyond the bounds of possibility that he was +still alive; nor did this easy-going Irish master of melodies consider +that it devolved on him to try to find some record of the marriage in +question. + +Now what happened after this remarkable union? The narrative of the +sister is quite as circumstantial as one could wish it to be, and even +more imaginative. But whatever qualities of excellence it possesses, +it certainly does not carry to a reader any conviction of accuracy. +It states that the interesting young couple went to Lille instead of +carrying out their original intention of going to St. Quentin, and +that Miss Linley--now Mrs. Sheridan, of course--“immediately secured an +apartment in a convent, where it was settled she was to remain either +till Sheridan came of age or till he was in a situation to support +a wife. He remained a few days at Lille to be satisfied that she was +settled to her satisfaction; but, whether from agitation of mind or +fatigue, she was taken ill, and an English physician, Dr. Dolman, of +York, was called in to attend her. From what he perceived of her case he +wished to have her more immediately under his care than he could in the +convent, and he and Mrs. Dolman most kindly invited her to their house.” + +This would seem to have been very kind indeed on the part of the doctor +and his wife, but it so happened that a letter turned up some years ago +which the late Mr. Fraser Rae was able to print in the first volume of +his admirable _Life of Sheridan_, and this letter makes it plain +that wherever Mrs. Sheridan (_née_ Linley) may have been, she was not +sojourning with the Dolmans. It is from Dr. Dolman himself, and it was +addressed to “Monsieur Sherridan, Gentilhomme Anglois, à l'Hôtel de +Bourbon, Sur la Grande Place.” It recommends the administering of +certain powders in a glass of white wine twice daily, and sends +“compliments and wishes of health to your lady.” + +The question then remains: Was the lady at this time an inmate of the +convent, and did the doctor expect “Monsieur Sherridan” to go to this +institution twice a day in order to administer the powders to his lady? +Would not the doctor think it somewhat peculiar that the husband should +be at the Hôtel de Bourbon and his lady an inmate of the convent? + +These questions must be left to be answered according to the experience +of life of any one interested in the matter. But it is worth noticing +that, on the very day that he received the missive from Dr. Dolman, +Sheridan wrote to his brother at Bath and mentioned that Miss Linley--he +continued to call her Miss Linley--was now “fixing in a convent, where +she has been entered some time.” Does the first phrase mean that she was +already in the convent, or only about to take up her residence there? +However this question may be answered, it is clear that Sheridan +expected to leave her behind him at Lille, for he adds, “Everything +is now so happily settled here I will delay no longer giving you that +information, though probably I shall set out for England without knowing +a syllable of what has happened with you.” + +So far, then, as his emprise in regard to the lady was concerned, he +considered the incident to be closed. “Though you may have been ignorant +for some time of our proceedings, you could never have been uneasy,” he +continues hopefully, “lest anything should tempt me to depart, even in a +thought, from the honour and consistency which engaged me at first.” + +Some people have suggested that Sheridan, when he drew the character +of Charles Surface, meant it to be something of an excuse for his own +casual way of life. But it must strike a good many persons who believe +that he induced the innocent girl, whom he set forth to protect on her +way to a refuge from the infamous designs of Mathews, to marry him, that +Sheridan approached much more closely to the character of Joseph in this +correspondence with his brother. A more hypocritical passage than that +just quoted could hardly have been uttered by Joseph Surface. As a +matter of fact, one of Joseph's sentiments is only a paraphrase of this +unctuous assumption of honour and consistency. + +But this criticism is only true if one can believe his sister's story of +the marriage. If it is true that Sheridan set out from England with +Miss Linley with the intention of so compromising her that she should +be compelled to marry him, at the same time pretending to her and to his +brother to be actuated by the highest motives in respect of the ill-used +girl, it is impossible to think of him except with contempt. + +Happily the weight of evidence is overpoweringly in Sheridan's favour. +We may think of him as a rash, an inconsiderate, and a culpably careless +boy to take it upon him to be the girl's companion to the French +convent, but we refuse to believe that he was ever capable of acting the +grossly disingenuous part attributed to him by his sister, and accepted +without question by his melodious biographer. There are many people, +however, who believe that when a man marries a woman, no matter in what +circumstances, he has “acted the part of a gentleman” in regard to her, +and must be held to be beyond reproach on any account whatsoever so far +as the woman is concerned. In the eyes of such censors of morality, as +in the eyes of the law, the act of marriage renders null and void all +ante-nuptial deeds; and it was probably some impression of this type +which was acquired by Sheridan's sister, inducing her to feel sure +(after a time) that her brother's memory would suffer if his biographer +were to tell the story of his inconsiderate conduct in running away with +Elizabeth Linley, unless it was made clear that he married her the first +moment he had to spare. She tried to save her brother's memory by +persuading her own to accommodate itself to what she believed to be her +brother's emergency. She was a good sister, and she kept her memory well +under control. + +But what did the father of the young lady think of the matter? What did +the people of Bath, who were well acquainted with all the actors engaged +in this little comedy, think of the matter? Happily these questions can +be answered by appealing to facts rather than to the well-considered +recollections of a discreet lady. + +We know for certain that Mr. Linley, who was, as one might suppose, +fully equipped to play the part of the enraged father of the runaway +girl, turned up at the place of her retreat--he had no trouble in +learning in what direction to look for her--and having found her and the +young gentleman who had run away with her, did he, under the impulse +of his anger, fanned by his worldly knowledge, insist with an uplifted +horsewhip upon his marrying her without a moment's delay? Mr. Linley +knew Bath, and to know Bath was to know the world. Was he, then, of the +same opinion as that expressed (according to his sister's narrative) by +young Sheridan to persuade Miss Linley to be his bride--namely, that it +would be impossible for her to show her face in Bath unless as the wife +of Richard Brinsley Sheridan? + +Nothing of the sort. Whatever reproaches he may have flung at his +daughter, however strong may have been his denunciation of the conduct +of the man who had run away with her, they had not the effect either of +inducing his daughter or her companion to reveal to him the fact that +they had been married for several days, or of interrupting the friendly +relations that had existed for nearly two years between himself and +young Sheridan. The dutiful memory of Miss Sheridan records that Mr. +Linley, “after some private conversation with Mr. Sheridan, appeared +quite reconciled to his daughter, but insisted on her returning to +England with him (Mr. Linley) to fulfil several engagements he had +entered into on her account. The whole party set out together the next +day, Mr. Linley having previously promised to allow his daughter to +return to Lille when her engagements were over.” + +The comedy of the elopement had become a farce of the “whimsical” type. +Nothing more amusing or amazing has ever been seen on the vaudeville +stage. The boy and the girl run off together and get married. The +infuriated father follows them, ruthlessly invades their place of +refuge, and then, “after some private conversation” with his daughter's +husband, who does not tell him that he is her husband, says to the young +woman, “My dear, you must come home with me to sing at a concert.” + +“Certainly, papa,” replies the girl. “Wait a minute, and I'll go too,” + cries the unconfused husband of the daughter. “All right, come along,” + says the father, and they all take hands and sing the ridiculous trio +which winds up the vaudeville after it has run on inconsequentially for +a merry forty minutes--there is a _pas de trois_, and the curtain falls! + +Alas, for the difference between Boswell the bald and Moore the +melodious! The bald prose of Boswell's diaries may have made many of +the personages with whom he dealt seem silly, but that was because +he himself was silly, and, being aware of this fact, the more +discriminating of his readers have no great difficulty in arriving +at the truth of any matter with which he deals. He would never have +accepted unreservedly such a narrative as that which Moore received +from Mrs. Lefanu (_née_ Sheridan), and put into his own language, or as +nearly into his own language as he could. But Moore found it “so hard to +narrate familiar events eloquently,” he complained. He actually thought +that Mrs. Lefanu's narrative erred on the side of plausibility! The +mysterious elopement, the still more mysterious marriage, and the +superlatively mysterious return of the fugitives and the irate father +hand-in-hand, he regarded as events so commonplace as not to be +susceptible of lyrical treatment. But the most farcical of the doings +of his own _Fudge Family_ were rational in comparison with the familiar +events associated with the flight to France of his hero and heroine. The +_Trip to Scarborough_ of Sheridan the farce-writer was founded on +much more “familiar events” than this extraordinary trip to Lille, as +narrated for the benefit of the biographer by Mrs. Lefanu. + +What seems to be the truth of the whole matter is simply that Sheridan +undertook to be a brother to Elizabeth Linley, and carried out his +compact faithfully, without allowing anything to tempt him to depart, +as he wrote to Charles, “even in thought from the honour and consistency +which engaged [him] at first.” It must be remembered that he was a +romantic boy of twenty, and this is just the age at which nearly every +boy--especially a boy in love--is a Sir Galahad. As for Miss Linley, +one has only to look at her portrait to know what she was. She was not +merely innocent, she was innocence itself. + +When Mr. Linley appeared at Lille he accepted without reserve the +explanation offered to him by his daughter and by Sheridan; and, +moreover, he knew that although there was a school for scandal located +at Bath, yet so highly was his daughter thought of in all circles, and +so greatly was young Sheridan liked, that no voice of calumny would be +raised against either of them when they returned with him. And even if +it were possible that some whisper, with its illuminating smile above +the arch of a painted fan, might be heard in the Assembly Rooms when +some one mentioned the name of Miss Linley in connection with that of +young Sheridan and with the trip to Lille, he felt convinced that such +a whisper would be robbed of its sting when every one knew that the girl +and the boy and the father all returned together and on the best terms +to Bath. + +As the events proved, he had every right to take even so sanguine a view +of the limitations of the range of the Pump Room gossips. On the return +of the three from Lille no one suggested that Sheridan and Miss Linley +should get married. No one except the scoundrel Mathews suggested that +Sheridan had acted badly or even unwisely, though undoubtedly he had +given grounds for such implications. The little party returned to Bath, +and Miss Linley fulfilled her concert and oratorio engagements, went +into society as before, and had at her feet more eligible suitors than +had ever knelt there. We have it on the authority of Charles Sheridan, +the elder brother, that in Bath the feeling was that Richard had acted +as a man of honour in taking the girl to the convent at Lille. Writing +to their uncle, Mr. Chamberlaine, he expressed surprise that “in +this age when the world does not abound in Josephs, most people are +(notwithstanding the general tendency of mankind to judge unfavourably) +inclined to think that he (Richard) acted with the strictest honour in +his late expedition with Miss L., when the circumstances might allow of +their being very dubious on this head without incurring the imputation +of being censorious.” + +This testimony as to what was the opinion in Bath regarding the +expedition is extremely valuable, coming as it does from one who was +never greatly disposed to take a brotherly or even a friendly view of +Richard's conduct at any time--coming as it does also from a man who had +been in love with Miss Linley. + +At any rate this escapade of young Mr. Sheridan was the most fortunate +for him of any in which he ever engaged, and he was a man of many +escapades, for it caused Elizabeth Linley to fall in love with him, and +never was a man beloved by a sweeter or more faithful woman. To know how +beautiful was her nature one has only to look at her face in either of +the great portraits of her which are before us to-day. No characteristic +of all that is held to be good and gracious and sympathetic--in one +word, that is held to be womanly, is absent from her face. No man that +ever lived was worthy of such a woman; but if only men who are worthy of +such women were beloved by them, mankind would be the losers. She loved +Sheridan with the truest devotion--such devotion as might be expected +from such a nature as hers--and she died in the act of writing to him +the love-letter of a wife to her dearly loved husband. + +They did not get married until a year after the date of their flight to +the Continent, and then they were described as bachelor and spinster. +Neither of them ever gave a hint, even in any of the numerous letters +which they exchanged during this period, that they had gone through +the ceremony of marriage at that village near Calais. More than once a +strained situation would have been relieved had it been possible to make +such a suggestion, for now and again each of the lovers grew jealous of +the other for a day or two. But neither said, “Pray remember that you +are not free to think of marrying any one. We are husband and wife, +although we were married in secret.” Neither of them could make such an +assertion. It would not have been true. What seems to us to be the truth +is that it was Sir Galahad who acted as protector to his sister when +Richard Brinsley Sheridan went with Elizabeth Linley to France. + + + + +THE AMAZING DUELS + +WHEN young Mr. Sheridan returned to Bath after his happy little +journey to France with Miss Linley and back with Mr. Linley, he may have +believed that the incident was closed. He had done all that--and perhaps +a little more than--the most chivalrous man of experience and means +could be expected to do for the young woman toward whom he had stood +in the position of a protecting brother. He had conducted her to the +convent at Lille, on which she had set her heart, and he had been able +to explain satisfactorily to her father on his arrival at the hotel +where he and Miss Linley were sojourning in the meantime, what his +intentions had been when he had eloped with her from Bath. No doubt he +had also acted as Miss Linley's adviser in respect of those negotiations +with her father which resulted in the happy return of the whole family +party to London. + +In London he heard that Mathews, the scoundrel who had been pursuing +Miss Linley in the most disreputable fashion, was in town also, and +that, previous to leaving Bath, he had inserted in the Chronicle +a defamatory advertisement regarding him (Sheridan); and on this +information coming to his ears he put his pistols into his pocket and +went in search of Mathews at the lodgings of the latter. + +Miss Sheridan tells us about the pistols in the course of her lucid +narrative, and states on her own responsibility that when he came upon +Mathews the latter was dreadfully frightened at the sight of one of the +pistols protruding from Sheridan's pocket. Mr. Fraser Rae, the competent +biographer of Sheridan, smiles at the lady's statement. “The sight of +the pistols would have alarmed Sheridan's sisters,” he says, “but it +is in accordance with probability that he (Mathews) expected a hostile +meeting to follow as a matter of course. He must have been prepared for +it, and he would have been strangely ignorant of the world in which he +lived if he had deemed it unusual.” + +[Illustration: 0301] + +But Mr. Fraser Rae was not so strangely ignorant of the world in which +Sheridan and Mathews lived as to fancy that there was nothing unusual +in a gentleman's going to ask another gentleman whom he believed to have +affronted him, for an explanation, with a pair of pistols in his pocket. +In the circumstances a duel would have been nothing unusual; but surely +Mr. Fraser Rae could not have fancied that Sheridan set out with the +pistols in his pocket in order to fight a duel with Mathews in the man's +lodgings, without preliminaries and without seconds. If Mathews caught +sight of the butt of a pistol sticking out of Sheridan's pocket he had +every reason to be as frightened as Miss Sheridan declared he was, for +he must have believed that his visitor had come to murder him. + +At any rate, frightened or not frightened, pistols or no pistols, +Mathews, on being interrogated by Sheridan as to the advertisement in +the _Bath Chronicle_, assured him that he had been grossly misinformed +as to the character of the advertisement. It was, he affirmed, nothing +more than an inquiry after Sheridan, which the family of the latter had +sanctioned. He then, according to Miss Sheridan, expressed the greatest +friendship for his visitor, and said that he would be made extremely +unhappy if any difference should arise between them. + +So young Mr. Sheridan, balked of his murderous intentions, returned with +unsullied pistols to his hotel, and set out for Bath with Miss Linley +and her father. + +But if he fancied that Mathews had passed out of his life he was quickly +undeceived. Before he had time to take his seat at the family table he +had got a copy of the newspaper containing the advertisement, of the +tenor of which Mathews had told him in London he had been misinformed; +and now his sisters made him fully aware of the action taken by the +same man on learning of the flight of Sheridan and Elizabeth Linley. The +result was that he now perceived what every one should have known long +before--namely, that Mathews was a scoundrel, who should never have +been allowed to obtain the footing to which he had been admitted in the +Sheridan and Linley families. + +It appears that the moment Mathews heard that Miss Linley had been +carried beyond his reach, he rushed to the Sheridans' house, and +there found the girls and their elder brother, who had been wisely +communicated with by the landlord, and had left his retirement in the +farmhouse in the country to take charge of the sisters in the absence of +their brother Richard. Mathews behaved like a madman--no unusual _rôle_ +for him--heaping reproaches upon the absent member of the family, +and demanding to be told of his whereabouts. He seems to have been +encouraged by Charles Sheridan, who had unwisely said something in +disparagement of his brother. Mathews had the effrontery to avow his +passion for Elizabeth Linley, and in the bitterest terms to accuse +Richard Sheridan of having acted basely in taking her beyond his reach. + +Then he hastened to Richard Sheridan's friend and confidant, a young man +named Brereton, and to him he sent messages of friendship and, possibly, +condolence to Mr. Linley, though his object in paying this visit was +undoubtedly not to endeavour to exculpate himself as regards Mr. Linley, +but to find out where the fugitives were to be found. He may have had +visions of pursuing them, of fighting a duel with Richard Sheridan, and +if he succeeded in killing him, of getting the girl at last into his +power. + +But Mr. Brereton not only did not reveal the whereabouts of his +friend--he knew that Sheridan meant to go to Lille, for he wrote to him +there--but he also refused to give his interrogator any sympathy for +having failed to accomplish the destruction of the girl. Brereton, +indeed, seems to have convinced him that the best thing he could do was +to leave Bath as quickly as possible. Mathews had probably by this time +discovered, as Brereton certainly had, that the feeling against him in +Bath was profound. There can be little doubt that in the course of the +day Charles Sheridan became aware of this fact also; he had only a few +months before confessed himself to be deeply in love with Elizabeth +Linley, and when he heard that his brother had run away with her he +could not but have been somewhat incensed against him, for Richard had +not taken him into his confidence. By the time his brother returned, +however, any ill-feeling that Charles may have felt had disappeared, +and as Charles always showed himself to be a cool and calculating +gentleman--one who always kept an eye on the jumping cat--it is not +going too far to assume that his change of tone in respect of his rather +impetuous brother was due to his perception of the trend of public +opinion on the subject of the elopement. + +Brereton had persuaded Mathews that there was nothing left for him but +to quit Bath; but before taking this step the latter had inserted in the +_Bath Chronicle_ the advertisement of which Richard had heard, but which +he had not read when in London, thus leaving himself in no position to +contradict Mathews' assertion as to its amicable wording. + +But now the newspaper was put into his hands by Charles, and he had +an opportunity of pronouncing an opinion on this point. It was dated +Wednesday, April the 8th, 1772, and it ran as follows: + +“Mr. Richard S-------- having attempted in a letter left behind him for +that purpose, to account for his scandalous method of running away from +this place by insinuations derogating from my character and that of a +young lady, innocent as far as relates to me, or my knowledge, since +which he has neither taken any notice of letters or even informed his +own family of the place where he has hid himself; I cannot longer think +he deserves the treatment of a gentleman, and in this public method, to +post him as a L------, and a treacherous S--------. + +“And as I am convinced there have been many malevolent incendiaries +concerned in the propagation of this infamous lie, if any of them, +unprotected by age, _infirmities_, or profession, they are to +acknowledge the part they have acted, and affirm _to_ what they have +said _of_ me, they may depend on receiving the proper reward of their +villainy, in the most public manner. The world will be candid enough to +judge properly (I make no doubt) of any private abuse on this subject +for the future, as nobody can defend himself from an accusation he is +ignorant of Thomas Mathews.” Such a piece of maundering imbecility as +this had probably never before appeared in a newspaper. It must have +been read in Bath with roars of laughter. But we do not hear that any of +the ready writers of the time and the town yielded to the temptation of +commenting upon the “malevolent incendiarism” of the composition. A man +of the world, had it been written about himself, would possibly +have thought that its illiteracy spoke for itself, and so would have +refrained from making any move in regard to it or its author. But one +can imagine what effect reading it would have upon a boy of Sheridan's +spirit. For a youth of twenty to find himself posted as a Liar and +a Scoundrel, to say nothing of a “malevolent incendiary,” and remain +indifferent would be impossible. Sheridan did not take long to make up +his mind what he should do in the circumstances. + +The dramatic touch which his sister introduces in writing of Richard's +perusal of the paragraph is intensely true to nature. He simply put a +word or two to Charles relative to what Mathews had told him in +London about his, Sheridan's, family sanctioning the insertion of the +advertisement. Charles had no difficulty in vindicating his integrity on +this point. Richard knew perfectly well that it is one thing to say that +a man has acted too hastily, but quite another to suggest that that man +is “a L------ and a S--------.” + +So apparently the matter ended, and Richard continued chatting with his +sisters, giving no sign of what was in his mind. The girls went to +their beds, suspecting nothing. The next morning their two brothers were +missing! + +Of course the girls were dreadfully alarmed. Some people in the house +told them that they had heard high words being exchanged between the +brothers after the girls had retired, and shortly afterwards the two +former had gone out together. The sister, in her narrative, mentions +that she received a hint or two of a duel between Richard and Charles, +but she at once put these suggestions aside. The poor girls must have +been nearly distracted. Certainly the house of Sheridan was passing +through a period of great excitement. The estimable head of the family +was himself expecting a crisis in his affairs as manager of the theatre +in Dublin--Mr. Thomas Sheridan was never far removed from a crisis--and +in his absence his young people were doing pretty much as they pleased. +He had no power of controlling them; all that he had to do with them was +to pay their bills. Neither of the sons was earning anything, and while +one of them was living as a man of fashion, the other had thought it +well to cut himself off from his sisters, taking lodgings at a farm some +way out of Bath It is the girls of the house for whom one feels most. +Alicia, the elder, was seventeen, Elizabeth was but twelve. They must +have been distracted. So would their father have been if he had had a +chance of learning all that was going on at Bath. + +But, of course, when young gentlemen of spirit are falling in love with +beauteous maidens, and retiring to cure themselves by mingling with +pastoral scenes reminiscent of the gentle melancholy of Mr. Alexander +Pope's shepherds and shepherdesses (done in Dresden), every one of +whom murmurs mournfully and melodiously of a rejected suit--when young +gentlemen are running away with afflicted damsels and returning to +fight their enemies, they cannot be expected to think of the incidental +expenses of the business, which are to be defrayed by their father, any +more than of the distraction which takes possession of their sisters. + +The two young gentlemen were missing, and had left for their sisters +no explanation of their absence--no hint as to the direction of their +flight. And there were other people in the house talking about the high +words that had been exchanged between the brothers at midnight. It is +not surprising that the poor girls should be distressed and distracted. + +Considering that Miss Linley was the first cause of the excitement in +the midst of which the family had been living for some weeks, it was +only natural that the elder of the girls should send for her with a view +to have some light thrown on this new development of the heroic incident +in which Miss Linley had assisted. But Miss Linley, on being applied +to, affirmed that she knew nothing of the disappearance of the brothers, +that she had heard of nothing that should cause them to leave Bath at a +moment's notice. She was, unfortunately, a young woman of imagination. +In a crisis such a one is either very helpful, or very helpless. Poor +Miss Linley was the latter. She had just come through a great crisis in +her own life, and she had not emerged from it without suffering. It was +too much to ask her to face another in the family of her friends. She +went off in a fainting fit on hearing the news of the disappearance of +the young men, and her father left her in the hands of a medical man, +and turned his attention to the condition of Miss Sheridan, who was +unable to walk back to her home, and had to be put into a chair, +Mr. Linley walking beside her with her young sister. It is more than +possible that Mr. Linley was beginning to feel that he had had quite +enough of the Sheridan family to last him for the remainder of his life. + +For two days nothing whatever was heard of the missing brothers. We have +no means of knowing if Miss Sheridan communicated to their father in +Dublin the mysterious story she had to tell; the chances are that she +was advised by Mr. Linley to refrain from doing so until she might have +something definite to tell him. Mr. Linley never had any particular +regard for the elder Sheridan, and he had no wish to have him summoned +from his theatre at Dublin to make his remarks about the dangerous +attractiveness of Elizabeth Linley, and the culpable carelessness of +her father in allowing her to be carried off to France by a young man +without a penny except what he got from his own father. + +At any rate, Tom Sheridan did not leave his theatre or his pupils +in elocution, and there was no need for him to do so, for on Tuesday +evening--they had been missing on the Sunday morning--Dick and his +brother returned. They were both greatly fatigued, and said that they +had not been in bed since they had left Bath. This meant that Dick had +actually not slept in Bath since he had originally left the city in the +company of Miss Linley. Between the Friday and the Tuesday he had posted +from London to Bath with the Linleys, and had forthwith returned to +London with his brother and then back once more to Bath without a pause. +He, at least, had very good reason for feeling fatigued. + +His first act was to hand his sister an apology which had been made to +him by Mathews. This document is worthy of being reprinted. It ran thus: + +“Being convinced that the expressions I made use of to Mr. Sheridan's +disadvantage, were the effects of passion and misrepresentation, +I intreat what I have said to that gentleman's disadvantage, and +particularly beg his pardon for my advertisement in the _Bath +Chronicle_. Th. Mathews.” + +He handed this document to his sister, and then it may be supposed that +he went to bed. He had certainly good need of a sleep. + +Such is the drift of the story up to this point, as told by Mrs. Lefanu +(Elizabeth Sheridan), and it differs in some particulars from that told +by her brother Charles in a letter to their uncle, and, in a lesser +degree, from the account given of the whole transaction by Richard +Sheridan himself, who was surely in the best position to know exactly +what happened upon the occasion of his first visit to Mathews in London, +as well as upon the occasion of his second, made so hurriedly in the +company of his brother. + +His second visit was, as might have been expected, the more exciting. +It included the fighting of a duel with Mathews. The humours of duelling +have been frequently dealt with in prose and comedy, and, assuredly the +most amusing of all is to be found in Richard Brinsley Sheridan's _The +Rivals_. One must confess, however, that the serious account given by +the same writer of his hostile meeting with Mathews, on his return from +Bath, suggests a much more ludicrous series of situations than are to be +found in his play. + +In Sheridan's account he mentions that while still in France he received +“several abusive threats” from Mathews, and these had such an effect +upon him that he wrote to Mathews, swearing that he would not close his +eyes in sleep in England till he had treated Mathews as he deserved. +In order to carry out this vow he had actually sat up all night at +Canterbury, where his party halted on their way from Dover to London. +He called upon Mathews on arriving in London, at the latter's lodging +in Crutched Friars; this was at midnight, and the key of the door being +mislaid, he had to wait two hours before he was admitted. He found +Mathews in bed, but he induced him to rise and dress, though, in spite +of his compliance as regards his raiment, he complained bitterly of the +cold. There does not seem to have been any great suffering on Sheridan's +part through a lack of heat. Then, as his sister's narrative put it, the +man declared that his visitor had been grossly misinformed in regard to +the libel in the Chronicle; and so he left for Bath, as has already been +stated. + +And now comes the account given by Sheridan of the return visit, and, +told in his own laconic style, it suggests such comic situations as +border on farce. + +“Mr. S.,” he wrote, “staid but three hours in Bath. He returned to +London. He sent to Mr. M. from Hyde Parck. He came with Captain Knight +his second. He objected frequently to the ground. They adjourned to the +Hercules Pillars. They returned to Hyde Parck. Mr. M. objected to the +observation of an officer. They returned to Hercules Pillars. They +adjourned to the Bedford Coffee house by agreement. Mr. M. was gone +to the Castel Tavern. Mr. S. followed with Mr. E. Mr. M. made many +declarations in favour of Mr. S. They engaged. Mr. M. was disarmed, +Captain Knight ran in. Mr. M. begged his life and afterwards denied the +advantage. Mr. S. was provoked by the (really well-meant) interposition +of Captain Knight and the illusion of Mr. M. He insisted since Mr. M. +denied the advantage, that he should give up his sword. Mr. M. denied, +but sooner than return to his ground he gave it up. It was broke, and +Mr. M. offered another. He was then called on to retract his abuse +and beg Mr. S.'s pardon. With much altercation and much ill grace he +complied.” + +The remainder of this remarkably succinct composition is devoted to the +subsequent misrepresentations of the transaction by Mathews, and by the +writer's appeal to the seconds to say if his version of the encounter +was not correct. + +But whatever Mathews' account may have been it could scarcely be more +ludicrous than Sheridan's. The marching and countermarching of the +four gentlemen--it appears that brother Charles, although accompanying +Richard to London, thought it more prudent to remain under cover during +the actual engagement; he waited at Brereton's lodgings--the excuses +made by Mathews in order to get away without fighting, and then at the +last moment, the carrying out (by agreement) of a manouvre which landed +Mathews in one tavern and the rest of the party in another--the set-to +of the principals immediately after the “declarations” of one of them in +favour of the other, and the final catastrophe could hardly be surpassed +by the actions of a pair of burlesque duellists in what is technically +known as a “knockabout” entertainment. + +And after all this scrupulousness of detail one is left in doubt as +to the exact _locale_ of the encounter. Did it take place in the +coffee-room of the Castell Inn, or did the eager combatants retrace +their steps to the “parck”? The document written by Sheridan, though +dealing very fully with the forced marches of the army in the field, +throws no light upon this question of the scene of the battle. In +respect of the signing of the treaty of peace, and the payment of the +indemnity, it is, however, moderately lucid. Sheridan must have told his +sister that Mathews signed the apology immediately after the encounter; +she states this in her narrative. But Mathews did not merely sign the +apology, he wrote every word of it, as one may see by referring to the +facsimile, thoughtfully given in Mr. Fraser Rae's _Life of Sheridan_, +and it would be impossible to say that the caligraphy of the apology +shows the least sign of that perturbation from which one must believe +the writer was suffering at the moment. Its characteristic is neatness. +It is in the fine old-fashioned Italian hand. Even an expert, who sees +possibilities--when paid for it--in handwriting which would never occur +to less imaginative observers, would scarcely venture to say that this +neat little document was written by a man with another's sword at his +throat. + +This is another element in the mystery of the duel, and it cannot be +said that when we read the letter which the elder of the brothers +wrote to his uncle, giving his account of the whole business, we feel +ourselves in a clearer atmosphere. It really seems a pity that Mr. +Browning did not make another _Ring and the Book_ series of studies out +of this amazing duel. Charles Sheridan told his uncle that an apology +was given to Richard by Mathews as a result of Richard's first visit to +him in London, but when Richard read the advertisement in the Chronicle, +which was the original casus belli, he considered this apology so +inadequate that he set off for London to demand another. Charles also +mentions, what neither his brother nor his sister had stated, that he +himself, on reaching London on the Sunday evening, went to Mathews to +endeavour to get a suitable apology--according to Richard's narrative +Charles had good grounds for sending a challenge to Mathews on his own +account--but “after two hours' altercation” he found that he had made no +impression upon the man, so that his brother had no alternative but to +call him out. + +But however the accounts of the lesser details of this affair of honour +may differ, there can be no question that public opinion in Bath was all +in favour of young Mr. Sheridan. It was acknowledged on every hand that +he had acted from the first--that is, from the moment he assumed the +duties of the protector of Miss Linley--with admirable courage, and with +a full sense of what honour demanded of him. In short he came back from +London, after so many sleepless nights, covered with glory. He was a +tall, handsome fellow of twenty, with brilliant eyes; he had run away +with the most beautiful girl in the world to save her from the clutches +of a scoundrel; he had had four nights without sleep, and then he had +fought a duel with the scoundrel and had obtained from him an apology +for insertion in the newspapers. Few young gentlemen starting life +wholly without means attain to so proud a position of achievement before +they reach their majority. + +But of course all these feats of errantry and arms run up a bill. +Young Mr. Sheridan's posting account must have been by itself pretty +formidable, and, knowing that his father had never looked on him with +the favour which he gave to his brother, Richard may now and again have +felt a trifle uneasy at the prospect of meeting Mr. Sheridan. If his +sister's memory is to be trusted, however, this meeting took place +within a week or two of his duel, and no bones were broken. Mr. Sheridan +had a few chiding words to say respecting the debts which his son had +incurred, but these he paid, after obtaining from the boy the usual +promise made under similar conditions before a like tribunal. The +prodigal invariably acts up to his character for prodigality in the +matter of promises of reform. + +Richard Sheridan, being something of a wit, though we do not get many +examples of his faculty in the accounts extant of his early life, and +assuredly not a single example in any of his letters that came into the +hands of his biographers, may have sworn to his father never to run away +with a girl who might be anxious to enter upon a conventual life. At +any rate, his father did not show any great displeasure when he was made +aware of the boy's conduct, though it is worth noting that Mr. Sheridan +took exception to the general conviction that his son's act had been +prompted by the most chivalrous aspirations. + +Mathews, however, had not yet been shaken off. He was back in Bath +almost as soon as the Sheridans, and “malevolent incendiarism” was +in the air. No slander was too base for him to use against Richard +Sheridan, no insinuation too vile. But the popularity of the object of +his calumny was now too firmly established in Bath to be shaken by the +vaporous malevolence of his enemy. Mathews, finding himself thoroughly +discredited in every quarter, did the only sensible thing recorded in +his squalid history--he ran away to his home in Wales. + +He was here unfortunate enough to meet with a man named Barnard, or +Barnett, who acted upon him pretty much as Sir Lucius O'Trigger did upon +Squire Acres, explaining to him that it was quite impossible that +the affair between him and Sheridan should remain as it was. It was +absolutely necessary, he said, that another duel should take place. All +the “incendiarism” in Mathews' nature was aroused by the fiery words of +this man, and the precious pair hurried to Bath, where a challenge was +sent to Sheridan through the hands of his eldest sister, under the guise +of an invitation to some festivity. + +Sheridan was foolish enough to accept the challenge apparently without +consulting with any one competent to advise him. According to his +father the challenge had been preceded by several letters of the +most scurrilous abuse. His wiser brother, who had just received an +appointment as Secretary to the British Legation in Sweden, had gone +to London with their father to make preparations for his departure for +Stockholm, and immediately on hearing of the duel he wrote to Richard a +typical elder brother's letter. It is dated July 3rd, 1772, so that, as +the duel had only taken place the previous day, it cannot be said +that he lost much time in expressing his deep sense of his brother's +foolishness in meeting so great a scoundrel for the second time. “All +your friends have condemned you,” he wrote. “You risked everything, +where you had nothing to gain, to give your antagonist the thing he +wished, a chance for recovering his reputation; he wanted to get rid +of the contemptible opinion he was held in, and you were good-natured +enough to let him do it at your expense. It is not a time to scold, but +all your friends were of opinion you could, with the greatest propriety, +have refused to meet him.” + +Without going into the question as to whether this sort of letter was +the ideal one for one brother to write to another who was lying on his +bed with several wounds in his throat, it is impossible to question the +soundness of the opinion expressed by Charles Sheridan in respect of +Richard's acceptance of Mathews' challenge. The challenge was, however, +accepted, and the duel took place on King's Down, at three o'clock +in the morning. Mathews' friend was Barnett, and Sheridan's a young +gentleman named Paumier, who, it was said, was quite unacquainted with +the rules of the game, and had never even seen a duel being fought. The +accounts which survive of this second meeting of Sheridan and Mathews +make it apparent that, if the first was a scene of comedy, this one was +a tragic burlesque. It is said that Sheridan, on the signal being given, +at once rushed in on his antagonist, endeavouring to disarm him as he +had done upon the former occasion of their meeting, but, tripping over +something, he literally, and not figuratively, fell upon the other, +knocking him down with such violence that he was not only disarmed, but +his sword was broken as well. Sheridan's own sword was also broken, so +that one might fancy that the meeting would have terminated here. It did +nothing of the sort. The encounter was only beginning, and anything more +savagely burlesque than the sequel could not be imagined. + +The combatants must have rolled over, after the manner of the negro +duellists on the variety stage, and when they had settled themselves +each made a grab for the most serviceable fragment of his sword. Mathews +being the heavier man contrived to keep uppermost in the scuffle, and, +what gave him a decided advantage over his opponent, he managed to get +his fingers on the hilt of his broken weapon. An appeal at this stage +was made by the lad who was acting as Sheridan's second to put a stop +to the fight; but the second ruffian, or the ruffian's second--either +description applies to Barnett--declared that as both the antagonists +were on the ground one could not be said to have any advantage over the +other. This delicate question being settled, Mathews held the jagged, +saw-like end--point it had none--of the broken sword at the other's +throat and told him to beg for his life. Sheridan replied that he +should refuse to beg his life from such a scoundrel, and forthwith the +scoundrel began jabbing at his throat and face with the fragment of his +weapon, a method of attack which was not robbed of its butchery by the +appeal that it makes to a reader's sense of its comical aspect. + +It is doubtful, however, if the comic side of the transaction appealed +very forcibly to the unfortunate boy who was being lacerated to death. +He just managed to put aside a thrust or two before the end of the blade +penetrated the flesh of his throat and pinned him to the ground. With a +chuckle and, according to Tom Sheridan's account, an oath, Mathews got +upon his feet, and, entering the coach which was waiting for him, drove +away from the scene of his butchery. Sheridan was thereupon raised from +the ground, and driven in his chaise with his second to the White Hart +Inn. Two surgeons were immediately in attendance, and it was found +that his wounds, though numerous, were not such as placed his life +in jeopardy. They were, however, sufficiently serious to prevent his +removal to his home that day. + +It does not appear that young Paumier told the sisters of the +occurrence; but an account of the duel having appeared in the _Bath +Chronicle_ the same afternoon, every one in the town must have been +talking of it, though Mrs. Lefanu says neither she nor her sister heard +a word of the matter until the next day. Then they hastened to the +White Hart, and prevailed upon the surgeons to allow them to take their +brother home. In a surprisingly short time he had quite recovered. +Indeed, although there was a report that Sheridan's life was despaired +of, there was no excuse for any one taking so gloomy a view of his +hurts, for the exact truth was known to Charles Sheridan and his father +in London early on the day following that of the fight. + +The pathetic part of the story of this ludicrous encounter is to be +found in the story of the reception of the news by Elizabeth Linley. Her +father had read in some of the papers that Sheridan was at the point of +death, but, like the worldly-wise man that Mr. Linley was, he kept +the news from his daughter. They were at Oxford together, and she was +announced to sing at a concert, and he knew that had she learned all +that the newspapers published, she might possibly not be able to do +herself--and her father--justice. But, as one of the audience told his +sister afterwards, the fact that every one who had come to hear Miss +Linley sing was aware of the serious condition (as the papers alleged) +of young Sheridan, and of her attachment to him, a feeling of sympathy +for the lovely young creature added immeasurably to the interest of her +performance. + +At the conclusion of the concert her father set out with her for Bath; +and it was not until they had almost reached their home that their +chaise was met by a clergyman named Pauton, and he summoned all his +tact to enable him to prepare Elizabeth Linley for the news which he was +entrusted to communicate to her. It is said that under the stress of +her emotion the girl declared that Richard Sheridan was her husband, and +that her place was by his side. + +Whatever truth there may be in this story it is certain that if she +believed at that moment that Sheridan was her husband, she gave no sign +of continuing in that belief, for though her numerous letters to him +show that she was devoted to him, there is no suggestion in any of them +that she believed herself to be his wife. On the contrary, there are +many passages which prove that no idea of the sort was entertained by +her. + +The exertions of the heads of the two families were for long directed +against the union of the lovers. Mr. Linley felt more forcibly than +ever that he had had quite enough of the Sheridans, and Tom Sheridan +doubtless wished never to hear again the name of Linley. The one made +his daughter promise on her knees to give up Richard Sheridan, and Mr. +Sheridan compelled his son to forswear any association with Elizabeth +Linley. Jove must have been convulsed with laughter. Richard Brinsley +Sheridan and Elizabeth Ann Linley were married on the 13th of April, +1773. + + + + +A MELODRAMA AT COVENT GARDEN + +ON an evening in April, 1779, the play, “_Love in a Village_” was being +performed at Covent Garden Theatre before a large audience. In the front +row of the boxes sat two ladies, one of them young and handsome, the +other not so young and not so beautiful--a dark-faced, dark-eyed woman +whom no one could mistake for any nationality except Italian. Three +gentlemen who sat behind them were plainly of their party--elegant +gentlemen of fashion, one of them an Irish peer. Every person of +quality in the theatre and a good many others without such a claim to +distinction, were aware of the fact that the most attractive member of +the group was Miss Reay, a lady whose name had been for several years +closely associated--very closely indeed--with that of Lord Sandwich, +the First Lord of the Admiralty, and one of the most unpopular men in +England. She had driven to the theatre in his lordship's carriage, and +two of the gentlemen with whom she conversed freely in the box were high +officials of the department over which his lordship presided. + +Almost from the moment of her arrival, Miss Reay and her friends were +watched eagerly by a hollow-eyed, morose gentleman in black. He looked as +if he had not slept for many nights; and no one observing him could have +failed to perceive that he had come to the theatre not for the sake of +the play which was being performed, but to watch the lady. He kept his +fierce eyes fixed upon her, and he frowned every time that she turned to +make a remark to one of her friends; his eyes blazed every time that one +of her friends smiled over her shoulder, and his hands clenched if she +smiled in return. Several times it seemed as if he found it impossible +to remain in his place in the upper side box, where his seat was, for +he started up and hurried out to the great lobby, walking to and fro in +great agitation. More than once he strode away from the lobby into the +Bedford Coffee House just outside the theatre, and there partook of +brandy and water, returning after brief intervals to stare at Miss Reay +and her companions in the front row of the boxes. + +[Illustration: 0327] + +At the conclusion of the play, he went hastily into the vestibule, +standing to one side, not far from the exit from the boxes; but if he +intended to be close to Miss Reay while she walked to the main exit, his +object was defeated by reason of the crush of people congregating in +the vestibule, the people of quality waiting for their carriages to +be announced, the others waiting for the satisfaction of being in such +close proximity to people of quality. + +Among the crowd there was a lady who had recently become the wife of a +curious gentleman named Lewis, who some years later wrote a grisly +book entitled _The Monk_, bringing him such great fame as cancelled for +posterity the names of Matthew Gregory, given to him by his parents, and +caused him to be identified by the name of his book only. This lady made +a remark to her neighbour in respect of a lovely rose which Miss Reay +was wearing when she left the box exit and stood in the vestibule--a +beautiful rose early in the month of April might have excited remark in +those days; at any rate, Mrs. Lewis has left the record that at the +very moment of her speaking, the rose fell to the floor, and Miss Reay +appeared to be profoundly affected by this trifling incident, and said +in a faltering voice, “I trust that I am not to consider this as an evil +omen!” So Mrs. Lewis stated. + +A few moments later Lord Sandwich's carriage was announced, and Miss +Reay and her companion made a move in the direction of the door. The +gentlemen of the party seem to have left earlier, for on the ladies +being impeded by the crush in the vestibule, a stranger, named Mr. +Macnamara, of Lincoln's Inn, proffered his services to help them to +get to the carriage. Miss Reay thanked him, took his arm, and the crowd +opened for them in some measure. It quickly opened wider under a more +acute persuasion a few seconds later, when the morose gentleman in black +pushed his way among the people until he was within a few feet of the +lady and her escort. Only for a second did he pause--certainly he spoke +no word to Miss Reay or any one else--before he pulled a pistol from his +pocket and fired almost point-blank at her before any one could knock up +his hand. Immediately afterwards he turned a second pistol against his +own forehead and pulled the trigger, and fell to the ground. + +The scene that followed can easily be imagined. Every woman present +shrieked, except Miss Reay, who was supported by Mr. Macnamara. The +ghastly effects of the bullet were apparent not only upon the forehead +of the lady where it lodged, but upon the bespattered garments of every +one about the door, and upon the columns of the hall. Above the shrieks +of the terror-stricken people were heard the yells of the murderer, +who lay on the ground, hammering at his head with the butt end of his +weapon, and crying, “Kill me! Kill me!” + +A Mr. Mahon, of Russell Street, who was said to be an apothecary, was +the first to lay a hand upon the wretched man. He wrested the pistol +from his grasp and prevented him from doing further mischief to himself. +He was quickly handed over to the police, and, with his unfortunate +victim, was removed to the Shakespeare Tavern, a surgeon named Bond +being in prompt attendance. It did not take long to find that Miss Reay +had never breathed after the shot had been fired at her; the bullet had +smashed the skull and passed through the brain. The man remained for +some time unconscious, but even before he recovered he was identified as +James Hackman, a gentleman who had been an officer in the army, and +on retiring had taken Orders, being admitted a priest of the Church of +England scarcely a month before his crime. There were rumours respecting +his infatuation for Miss Reay, and in a surprisingly short space of +time, owing most likely to the exertions of Signora Galli, the Italian +whom Lord Sandwich had hired to be her companion, the greater part of +the romantic story of the wretched man's life, as far as it related to +Miss Reay, was revealed. + +It formed a nine days' wonder during the spring of the same year (1779). +The grief displayed by Lord Sandwich on being made acquainted with the +circumstances of the murder was freely commented on, and the sympathy +which was felt for him may have diminished in some measure from his +unpopularity. The story told by Croker of the reception of the news by +Lord Sandwich is certainly not deficient in detail. “He stood as it +were petrified,” we are told, “till suddenly, seizing a candle, he ran +upstairs and threw himself on the bed, and in agony exclaimed, 'Leave +me for a while to myself, I could have borne anything but this!' The +attendants remained for a considerable time at the top of the staircase, +till his lordship rang the bell and ordered that they should all go to +bed.” + +Before his lordship left the scene of his grief in the morning Sir John +Fielding, the Bow Street magistrate, had arrived at the Shakespeare +Tavern from his house at Brompton, and, after a brief inquiry, ordered +Hackman to be taken to Tothill Fields Prison. In due course he was +committed to Newgate, and on April 16th his trial took place before +Blackstone, the Recorder. The facts of the tragedy were deposed to by +several witnesses, and the cause of the lady's death was certified by +Mr. Bond, the surgeon. The prisoner was then called on for his defence. +He made a brief speech, explaining that he would have pleaded guilty +at once had he not felt that doing so “would give an indication of +contemning death, not suitable to my present condition, and would in +some measure make me accessory to a second peril of my life. And I +likewise thought,” he added, “that the justice of my country ought to +be satisfied by suffering my offence to be proved, and the fact to be +established by evidence.” + +This curious affectation of a finer perception of the balance of justice +than is possessed by most men was quite characteristic of this man, as +was also his subsequent expression of his willingness to submit to the +sentence of the court. His counsel endeavoured to show that he had +been insane from the moment of his purchasing his pistols until he had +committed the deed for which he was being tried--he did not say anything +about “a wave of insanity,” however, though that picturesque phrase +would have aptly described the nature of his plea. He argued that a +letter which was found in the prisoner's pocket, and in which suicide +only was threatened, should be accepted as proof that he had no +intention of killing Miss Reay when he went to the theatre. + +The Recorder, of course, made short work of such a plea. He explained to +the jury that “for a plea of insanity to be successful it must be shown +not merely that it was a matter of fits and starts, but that it was +a definite thing--a total loss of reason and incapability of reason.” + Referring to the letter, he said that it seemed to him to argue a +coolness and premeditation incompatible with such insanity as he +described. + +The result was, as might have been anticipated, the jury, without +leaving the box, found Hackman guilty, and he was sentenced to be +hanged. + +Mr. Boswell, who was nearly as fond of hearing death-sentences +pronounced as he was of seeing them carried out, was present in the +court during the trial, and to him Mr. Booth, the brother-in-law of the +prisoner, applied--he himself had been too greatly agitated to be able +to remain in the court--for information as to how Hackman had deported +himself, and Boswell was able to assure him that he had behaved “as +well, sir, as you or any of his friends could wish; with decency, +propriety, and in such a manner as to interest every one present. He +might have pleaded that he shot Miss Reay by accident, but he fairly +told the truth that in a moment of frenzy he did intend it.” + +While he was in the condemned cell at Newgate he received a message from +Lord Sandwich to the effect that if he wished for his life, he (Lord +Sandwich) had influence with the King, and might succeed in obtaining +a commutation of his sentence. Hackman replied that he had no wish to +live, but he implored his lordship to give him such assurance that those +whom Miss Reay had left behind her would be carefully looked after, as +would, on meeting her in another world, enable him to make this pleasing +communication to her. + +He spent the few days that remained to him in writing fervid letters to +his friends and in penning moralisings, in a style which was just the +smallest degree more pronounced than that which was fashionable at his +period--the style of the sentimental hero of Richardson and his inferior +followers. + +His execution at Tyburn attracted the most enormous crowds ever seen +upon such an occasion. The carriage in which the wretched man was +conveyed to the gibbet could only proceed at a walking pace; but still, +the vehicle which followed it, containing the Earl of Carlisle and +James Boswell, arrived in good time for the final scene of this singular +tragedy, which for weeks, as the Countess of Ossory wrote to George +Selwyn, was the sole topic of conversation. + +And, as a matter of course, Horace Walpole had something to communicate +to one of his carefully-selected correspondents. Oddly enough it was +to a parson he wrote to express the opinion that he was still uncertain +“whether our clergy are growing Mahometans or not”; adding sagely, “they +certainly are not what they profess themselves; but as you and I should +not agree, perhaps, in assigning the same defects to them, I will not +enter on a subject which I have promised you to drop, all I allude to +now is the shocking murder of Miss Reay by a divine. In my own opinion +we are growing more fit for Bedlam than for Mahomet's paradise. The poor +criminal, I am persuaded, is mad, and the misfortune is the law does +not know how to define the shades of madness; and thus there are twenty +out-pensioners of Bedlam for one that is confined.” + +Most persons will come to the conclusion that the judge who tried +Hackman made a most successful attempt to expound to the jury exactly +where the law drew a line in differentiating between the man who should +be sent to Bedlam and the man who should be sent to Tyburn, and will +agree with the justice of the law that condemned to the gallows this +divine of three weeks' standing for committing an atrocious crime, even +though the chances are that Hackman spoke the truth when he affirmed +that he had brought his pistols down to the theatre with no more +felonious intent than to blow out his own brains in the presence of the +lady and to fall dead at her feet. At the same time one is not precluded +from agreeing with Walpole's opinion that the people of his period were +growing more fit for Bedlam than for Eblis. + +The truth is that an extraordinary wave of what was called +“sensibility” was passing over England at that time. It was a wave of +sentimentality--that maudlin sentimentality which was the exquisite +characteristic of the hero and heroine of almost every novel that +attained to any degree of success. To people who have formed their ideas +of the latter half of the eighteenth century from studying Boswell's +_Life of Johnson_, every page of which shows a healthy common sense; +or from the plates of Hogarth--robust even to a point of vulgarity--it +would seem incredible that there should exist in England at practically +the same time a cult of the maudlin and the lachrymose. Such a cult had, +however, obtained so great a hold on a large section of society that all +the satire of Smollett, Sterne, and Goldsmith, was unable to ridicule it +out of existence. + +And the worst of the matter was that the types of these weeping +sentimentalists were not unreal. They began by being unreal, but in the +course of a short time they became real, the fact being that people in +all directions began to frame their conduct and their conversation upon +these flaccid creatures of the unhealthy fancy of third-rate novelists +and fourth-rate poetasters. More than once, it may be remarked, even +in our own time “movements” have had their origin in the fancy of a +painter--in one case of a subtle caricaturist. An artist possessed of +a distorted sense of what is beautiful in woman has been able to set +a certain fashion in the unreal, until people were well-nigh persuaded +that it was the painter who had taken the figures in his pictures from +the persons who had simply sought a cheap notoriety by adopting the +pose and the dress of the scraggy posturantes for whose anatomy he was +responsible. + +So it was that, when certain novel-writers in the eighteenth century, +having no experience of the life which they attempted to depict, brought +forth creatures out of their own unhealthy imaginations, and placed them +before their readers as types of heroes and heroines, the public never +failed to include quite a number of readers who were ready to live up to +all those essentials that constituted the personages of the fiction. + +And not alone over England had the sighs of a perpetually sighing hero +and heroine sent a lachrymose flood; France and Germany, if not actually +inundated, were at least rendered humid by its influence. _The Sorrows +of Werther_ was only one of the many books which helped on the cult of +the sentimental, and it was as widely read in England as in Germany. +Gessner's _Death of Abel_ had an enormous vogue in its English +translation. The boarding-school version of the tale of Abelard and +Heloise was also much wept over both in France and Germany; and the +true story of James Hackman and Martha Reay, as recorded by the +correspondence of the pair, published shortly after the last scene in +the tragedy had been enacted, and reissued with connecting notes some +twelve years ago, might pass only as a somewhat crude attempt to surpass +these masterpieces of fancy-woven woes. James and Martha might have been +as happy as thousands of other Jameses and Marthas have been, but they +chose to believe that the Fates were bothering themselves with this +particular case of James and Martha--they chose to feel that they were +doomed to a life of sorrowful love--at any rate, this was Martha's +notion--and they kept on exchanging emotional sentiments until James's +poor head gave way, and he sought to end up their romance in accordance +with the mode of the best models, stretching himself a pallid corpse at +the feet of his Martha; but then it was that Fate put out a meddlesome +finger, and so caused the scene of the last chapter to take place at +Tyburn. + +The romance of Mr. Hackman and Miss Reay would never have taken place, +if Lord Sandwich had been as exemplary a husband as George III or Dr. +Johnson or Edmund Burke--the only exemplary husbands of the eighteenth +century that one can recall at a moment's notice. Unhappily his lordship +was one of the many examples of the unexemplary husband of that period. +If the Earl of Chesterfield advanced the ill-treatment of a wife to one +of the fine arts, it may be said that the Earl of Sandwich made it one +of the coarse. He was brutal in his treatment of the Countess, and never +more so than when he purchased the pretty child that Miss Reay must have +been at the age of thirteen, and had her educated to suit his tastes. +He went about the transaction with the same deliberation as a gourmand +might display in ordering his dinner. He was extremely fond of music, +so he had the child's education in this direction carefully attended +to. His place at Hinchinbrook had been the scene of the performance of +several oratorios, his lordship taking his place in the orchestra at the +kettledrums; and he hoped that by the time he should have his purchase +sent home, her voice would be equal to the demands put upon it by the +most exacting of the sacred soprano music of Handel or Gluck. + +As it turned out he was not disappointed. Martha Reay, when she went to +live at Hinchinbrook at the age of eighteen, showed herself to be a most +accomplished young lady, as she certainly was a very charming one. She +was found to possess a lovely voice, and was quite fitted to take +her place, not merely in his lordship's music-room, but also in his +drawing-room to which he advanced her. To say that she was treated as +one of his lordship's family would be to convey a wrong impression, +considering how he treated the principal member of his family, but +certainly he introduced her to his guests, and she took her place at his +table at dinner parties. He even put her next to the wife of a bishop +upon one occasion, feeling sure that she would captivate that lady, +and as it turned out, his anticipations were fully realised; only the +bishop's lady, on making inquiries later on, protested that she was +scandalised by being placed in such a position as permitted of her +yielding to the fascinations of a young person occupying a somewhat +equivocal position in the household. + +It was when she was at Hinchinbrook, in October, 1775, that Miss Reay +met the man who was to play so important a part in her life--and death. +Cradock, the “country gentleman,” tells in his _Memoirs_ the story of +the first meeting of the two. Lord Sandwich was anxious that a friend of +his own should be elected to a professorship at Cambridge, and Cradock, +having a vote, was invited to use it on behalf of his lordship's +candidate, and to stay for a night at Hinchinbrook on his way back to +London. He travelled in Lord Sandwich's coach, and when in the act of +driving through the gateway at Hinchinbrook, it overtook a certain Major +Reynolds and another officer who was stationed on recruiting duty in the +neighbourhood. Lord Sandwich, being acquainted with Reynolds, dismounted +and invited him and his friend to a family dinner at his lordship's +place that evening. Major Reynolds expressed his appreciation of this +act of courtesy, and introduced his friend as Captain Hackman. The party +was a simple affair. + +It consisted of Lord Sandwich, Miss Reay, another lady, the two +officers, and Mr. Cradock. After coffee had been served two rubbers of +whist were played, and the party broke up. + +This was the first meeting of Hackman and Miss Reay. They seem to have +fallen in love immediately, each with the other, for the first letter in +the correspondence, written in December, 1775, contains a good deal that +suggests the adolescence of a passion. Hackman was a man of education and +some culture, and he showed few signs of developing into that maudlin +sentimentalist who corresponded with the lady a year or two later. He +was but twenty-three years of age, the son of a retired officer in the +navy, who had sent him to St. John's College, Cambridge, and afterwards +bought him a commission in the 68th Foot. He was probably only an +ensign when he was stationed at Huntingdon, but being in charge of the +recruiting party, enjoyed the temporary rank of captain. + +He must have had a pretty fair conceit of his own ability as a +correspondent, for he kept a copy of his love letters. Of course, there +is no means of ascertaining if he kept copies of all that he ever wrote; +he may have sent off some in the hot passion of the moment, but those +which passed into the hands of his brother-in-law and were afterwards +published, were copies which he had retained. Miss Reay was doubtless +discreet enough to destroy the originals before they had a chance of +falling into the hands of Lord Sandwich. It is difficult for us who +live in this age of scrawls and “correspondence cards” to imagine the +existence of that enormous army of letter-writers who flourished +their quills in the eighteenth century, for the entertainment of their +descendants in the nineteenth and twentieth; but still more difficult +is it to understand how, before the invention of any mechanical means +of reproducing manuscript, these voluminous correspondents first made +a rough draft of every letter, then corrected and afterwards copied +it, before sending it--securing a frank from a friendly Member of +Parliament--to its destination. + +Superlatively difficult is it to imagine an ardent lover sitting down to +transcribe into the pages of a notebook the outpourings of his passion. +But this is what Ensign Hackman did, although so far as the consequences +of his love-making were concerned, he is deserving of a far higher place +among great lovers than Charlotte's Werther, or Mr. Swinburne's Dolores. +Charlotte we know “went on cutting bread and butter” after the death of +her honourable lover; but poor little Miss Reay was the victim of the +passion which she undoubtedly fanned into a flame of madness. Ensign +Hackman made copies of his love-letters, and we are grateful to him, for +by their aid we can perceive the progress of his disease. They are +like the successive pictures in a biograph series lately exhibited at a +conversazione of the Royal Society, showing the development of a blossom +into a perfect flower. We see by the aid of these letters how he gave +way under the attack of what we should now call the bacillus of that +maudlin sentimentality which was in the air in his day. + +He began his love-letters like a gallant officer, but ended them in the +strain of the distracted curate who had been jilted just when he has +laid down the cork lino in the new study and got rid of the plumbers. He +wrote merrily of his “Corporal Trim,” who was the bearer of a “billet” + from her. “He will be as good a soldier to Cupid as to Mars, I dare say. +And Mars and Cupid are not now to begin their acquaintance, you know.” + Then he goes on to talk in a fine soldierly strain of the drum “beating +for volunteers to Bacchus. In plain English, the drum tells me dinner is +ready, for a drum gives us bloody-minded heroes an appetite for eating +as well as for fighting.... Adieu--whatever hard service I may have +after dinner, no quantity of wine shall make me let drop or forget my +appointment with you tomorrow. We certainly were not seen yesterday, for +reasons I will give you.” + +This letter was written on December 7th, and it was followed by another +the next day, and a still longer one the day following. In fact, +Corporal Trim must have been kept as busy as his original in the service +of Uncle Toby, during the month of December, his duty being to receive +the lady's letters, as well as to deliver the gentleman's, and he seems +to have been equally a pattern of fidelity. + +Hackman's letters at this time were models of good taste, with only +the smallest amount of swagger in them. His intentions were strictly +honourable, and they were not concealed within any cocoon of sentimental +phraseology. One gathers from his first letters that he was a simple and +straightforward gentleman, who, having fallen pretty deeply in love +with a young woman, seeks to make her his wife at the earliest possible +moment. Unfortunately however, the lady had fallen under the influence +of the prevailing affectation, and her scheme of life did not include a +commonplace marriage with a subaltern in a marching regiment. One might +be disposed to say that she knew when she was well off. The aspiration +to be made “a respectable woman” by marriage in a church was not +sufficiently strong in her to compel her to sacrifice the many good +things with which she was surrounded, in order to realise it. But, of +course, she was ready to pose as a miserable woman, linked to a man +whom she did not love, but too honourable to leave him, and far too +thoughtful for the career of the man whom she did love with all her soul +ever to become a burden to him. She had read the ballad of “Auld Robin +Gray”--she quoted it in full in one of her letters--and she was greatly +interested to find how closely her case resembled that of the wife in +the poem. She had brought herself to think of the man who had bought her +just as he would buy a peach tree, or a new tulip, as her “benefactor.” + Did she not owe to him the blessing of a good education, and the culture +of her voice, her knowledge of painting--nay, her “keep” for several +years, and her introduction to the people of quality who visited at +Hinchinbrook and at the Admiralty? She seemed to think it impossible +for any one to doubt that Lord Sandwich had acted toward her with +extraordinary generosity, and that she would be showing the most +contemptible ingratitude were she to forsake so noble a benefactor. But +all the same she found Hinchinbrook intolerably dull at times, and she +was so pleased at the prospect of having a lover, that she came to fancy +that she loved the first one who turned up. + +She was undoubtedly greatly impressed by the ballad of “Auld Robin +Gray,” and she at once accepted the rôle of the unhappy wife, only she +found it convenient to modify one rather important line-- + +“I fain would think o' Jamie, but that would be a sin.” + +She was fain to think on her Jamie whether it was a sin or not, but she +did so without having the smallest intention of leaving her Auld Robin +Gray. So whimsical an interpretation of the poem could scarcely occur +to any one not under the influence of the sentimental malady of the day; +but it served both for Miss Reay and her Jamie. They accepted it, and +became deeply sensible of its pathos as applied to themselves. Ensign +Hackman assured her that he was too high-minded to dream of making love +to her under the roof of Lord Sandwich, her “benefactor.” + +“Our love, the inexorable tyrant of our hearts,” he wrote, “claims his +sacrifices, but does not bid us insult his lordship's walls with it. +How civilly did he invite me to Hinchinbrook in October last, though an +unknown recruiting officer. How politely himself first introduced me to +himself! Often has the recollection made me struggle with my passion. +Still it shall restrain it on this side honour.” + +This was in reply to her remonstrance, and probably she regretted that +she had been so strenuous in pointing out to him how dreadful it would +be were she to show herself wanting in gratitude to Lord Sandwich. She +wanted to play the part of Jenny, the lawful wife of Robin Gray, with +as few sacrifices as possible, and she had no idea of sacrificing +young Jamie, the lover, any more than she had of relinquishing the many +privileges she enjoyed at Hinchinbrook by making Jamie the lover into +Jamie the husband. + +It is very curious to find Hackman protesting to her all this time that +his passions are “wild as the torrent's roar,” apologising for making +his simile water when the element most congenial to his nature was fire. +“Swift had water in his brain. I have a burning coal of fire; your hand +can light it up to rapture, rage, or madness. Men, real men, have never +been wild enough for my admiration, it has wandered into the ideal world +of fancy. Othello (but he should have put himself to death in his wife's +sight, not his wife), Zanga are my heroes. Milk-and-water passions are +like sentimental comedy.” + +Read in the light of future events this letter has a peculiar +significance. Although he became more sentimental than the hero of any +of the comedies at which he was sneering, he was still able to make an +honest attempt to act up to his ideal of Othello. “_He should have put +himself to death in his wife's sight_.” It will be remembered that he +pleaded at his trial that he had no design upon the life of Miss Reay, +but only aimed at throwing himself dead at her feet. + +Equally significant are some of the passages in the next letters which +he wrote to her. They show that even within the first month of his +acquaintance with his Martha his mind had a peculiar bent. He was giving +his attention to Hervey's _Meditations_, and takes pains to point out to +her two passages which he affirms to be as fine as they are natural. Did +ever love-letter contain anything so grisly? “A beam or two finds its +way through the grates (of the vault), and reflects a feeble glimness +from the nails of the coffins.” This is one passage--ghastly enough +in all conscience. But it is surpassed by the others which he quotes: +“Should the haggard skeleton lift a clattering hand.” Respecting the +latter he remarks, “I know not whether the epithet 'haggard' might +not be spared.” It is possible that the lady on receiving this curious +love-letter was under the impression that the whole passage might have +been spared her. + +But he seems to have been supping off horrors at this time, for he goes +on to tell a revolting story about the black hole of Calcutta; and then +he returns with zest to his former theme of murder and suicide. He had +been reading the poem of “Faldoni and Teresa,” by Jerningham, and he +criticises it quite admirably. “The melancholy tale will not take up +three words, though Mr. J. has bestowed upon it 335 melancholy lines,” + he tells the young lady. “Two lovers, meeting with an invincible +object to their union, determined to put an end to their existence +with pistols. The place they chose for the execution of their terrible +project was a chapel that stood at a little distance from the house. +They even decorated the altar for the occasion, they paid a particular +attention to their own dress. Teresa was dressed in white with +rose-coloured ribbands. The same coloured ribbands were tied to the +pistols. Each held the ribband that was fastened to the other's trigger, +which they drew at a certain signal.” His criticism of the poem includes +the remark that Faldoni and Teresa might be prevented from making +proselytes by working up their affecting story so as to take off the +edge of the dangerous example they offer. This, he says, the author has +failed to do, and he certainly proves his point later by affirming that +“while I talk of taking off the dangerous edge of their example, they +have almost listed me under their bloody banners.” + +This shows the morbid tendency of the man's mind, though it must be +confessed that nearly all the remarks which he makes on ordinary topics +are eminently sane and well considered. + +A few days later we find him entering with enthusiasm into a scheme, +suggested by her, of meeting while she was on her way to London, and it +is plain from the rapturous letter which he wrote to her that their plot +was successful; but when she reached town she had a great deal to occupy +her, so that it is not strange she should neglect him for a time. The +fact was, as Cradock states in his _Memoirs_, that the unpopularity of +Lord Sandwich and Miss Reay had increased during the winter to such a +point that it became dangerous for them to show themselves together in +public. Ribald ballads were sung under the windows of the Admiralty, and +Cradock more than once heard some strange insults shouted out by +people in the park. It was at this time that she spoke to Cradock about +appearing in opera, and he states that it reached his ears that she had +been offered three thousand pounds and a free benefit (a possible extra +five hundred) for one season's performances. + +Now if she had really been in love with Hackman this was surely the +moment when she should have gone to him, suffered him to marry her, and +thus made up by a few years on the lyric stage for any deficiency in his +fortune or for the forfeiture of any settlement her “benefactor” might +have been disposed to make in her favour. But she seems to have shown a +remarkable amount of prudence throughout the whole of her intrigue, and +she certainly had a premonition of the danger to which she was exposed +by her connection with him. “Fate stands between us,” she wrote in +reply to one of his impetuous upbraiding letters. “We are doomed to be +wretched. And I, every now and then, think some terrible catastrophe +will be the result of our connection. 'Some dire event,' as Storge +prophetically says in _Jephtha_, 'hangs over our heads.' Oh, that it +were no crime to quit this world like Faldoni and Teresa... by your hand +I could even die with pleasure. I know I could.” + +An extraordinary premonition, beyond doubt, to write thus, and one is +tempted to believe that she had ceased for a moment merely to play the +part of the afflicted heroine. But her allusion to Jephtha and, later in +the same letter, to a vow which she said she had made never to marry +him so long as she was encumbered with debts, alleging that this was +the “insuperable reason” at which she had hinted on a previous occasion, +makes one suspicious. One feels that if she had not been practising the +music of _Jephtha_ she would not have thought about her vow not to marry +him until she could go to him free from debt. Why, she had only to sing +three times to release herself from that burden. + +Some time afterwards she seems to have suggested such a way of getting +over her difficulties, but it is pretty certain she knew that he would +never listen to her. Her position at this time was undoubtedly one +of great difficulty. Hackman was writing to her almost every day, and +becoming more high-minded and imperious in every communication, and she +was in terror lest some of his letters should fall into the hands of +Lord Sandwich. She was ready to testify to his lordship's generosity in +educating her to suit his own tastes, but she suspected its strength to +withstand such a strain as would be put on it if he came upon one of Mr. +Hackman's impetuous letters. + +She thought that when she had induced her lover to join his regiment +in Ireland she had extricated herself from one of the difficulties that +surrounded her; and had she been strong enough to refrain from +writing to the man, she might have been saved from the result of her +indiscretion. Unhappily for herself, however, she felt it incumbent on +her to resume her correspondence with him. Upon one occasion she sent +him a bank-note for fifty pounds, but this he promptly returned with +a very proper letter. Indeed, all his letters from Ireland are +interesting, being far less impassioned than those which she wrote to +him. Again she mentioned having read _Werther_, and he promptly begged +of her to send the book to him. “If you do not,” he adds, “I positively +never will forgive you. Nonsense, to say it will make me unhappy, or +that I shall not be able to read it! Must I pistol myself because a +thick-blooded German has been fool enough to set the example, or because +a German novelist has feigned such a story?” + +But it would appear that she knew the man's nature better than he +himself did, for she quickly replied: “The book you mention is just the +only book you should never read. On my knees I beg that you will never, +never read it!” But if he never read _Werther_ he was never without some +story of the same type to console him for its absence, and he seems to +have gloated over the telling of all to her. One day he is giving her +the particulars of a woman who committed suicide in Enniskillen because +she married one man while she was in love with another. His comment is, +“She, too, was _Jenny_ and had her _Robin Gray_.” His last letter from +Ireland was equally morbid. In it he avowed his intention, if he were +not granted leave of absence for the purpose of visiting her, of selling +out of his regiment. He kept his promise but too faithfully. He sold out +and crossed to England without delay, arriving in London only to find +Miss Reay extremely ill. + +His attempts to cheer her convalescence cannot possibly be thought very +happy. He describes his attendance upon the occasion of the hanging of +Dr. Dodd, the clergyman who had committed forgery; and this reminds +him that he was unfortunately out of England when one Peter Tolosa was +hanged for killing his sweetheart, so that he had no chance of taking +part in this ceremony as well, although, he says, unlike George +S.--meaning Selwyn--he does not make a profession of attending +executions; adding that “the friend and historian of Paoli hired a +window by the year, looking out on the Grass Market in Edinburgh, +where malefactors were hanged.” This reference to Boswell is somewhat +sinister. All this letter is devoted to a minute account of the +execution of Dodd, and another deals with the revolting story of the +butchery of Monmouth, which he suggests to her as an appropriate subject +for a picture. + +At this time he was preparing for ordination, and, incidentally, for +the culmination of the tragedy of his life. He had undoubtedly become a +monomaniac, his “subject” being murder and suicide. His last lurid story +was of a footman who, “having in vain courted for some time a servant +belonging to Lord Spencer, at last caused the banns to be put up at +church without her consent, which she forbad. Being thus disappointed +he meditated revenge, and, having got a person to write a letter to her +appointing a meeting, he contrived to waylay her, and surprise her in +Lord Spencer's park. On her screaming he discharged a pistol at her and +made his escape.” + +“Oh love, love, canst thou not be content to make fools of thy slaves,” + he wrote, “to make them miserable, to make them what thou pleasest? Must +thou also goad them on to crimes?” + +Only two more letters did he write to his victim. He took Orders and +received the living of Wiveton, in Norfolk, seeming to take it for +granted that, in spite of her repeated refusals to marry him, she +would relent when she heard of the snug parsonage. This was acting on +precisely the same lines as the butler of whom he wrote. When he found +that Miss Reay was determined to play the part taken by the servant in +the same story, the wretched man hurried up to London and bought his +pistols. + +The whole story is a pitiful one. That the man was mad no one except a +judge and jury could doubt. That his victim was amply punished for her +indiscretion in leading him on even the strictest censor of conduct must +allow. + + + + +THE COMEDY AT DOWNING STREET + +IT was possibly because she was still conscious of having occupied the +commanding position of one of the royal bridesmaids, in spite of the +two years that had elapsed since King George III married his homely +Mecklenburg princess, that Lady Susan Fox-Strangways, the daughter of +the first Earl of Ilchester, became so autocratic during the rehearsal +of the Downing Street Comedy. A pretty fair amount of comedy as well +as tragedy--with a preponderance of farce--has been played in the same +street from time to time, but the special piece in which Lady Susan +was interesting herself was to be played at the house of Sir Francis +Délavai, and its name was _The School for Lovers_. It had been +originally produced by Mr. David Garrick at Drury Lane Theatre, an +occasion upon which a young Irish gentleman called O'Brien, who had +disgraced himself by becoming an actor, had attained great distinction. +The piece had drawn the town during its protracted run of eight nights, +and Sir Francis Delaval's company of amateurs perceived that it was just +the play for them. It was said by the critics that, for the first time +for many years, an actor had been found capable of playing the part of +a gentleman of fashion as if to the manner born. They referred to the +acting of Mr. O'Brien, about whose gentlemanly qualities there could +be no doubt. Even his own brother actors affirmed that no such perfect +gentleman as that of O'Brien's creating had ever been seen on the stage. +So said Lee Lewes. Another excellent judge, named Oliver Goldsmith, +declared that William O'Brien was an elegant and accomplished actor. + +Of course this was the character, every aspiring amateur affirmed, to +which a gentleman-born would do ample justice. When O'Brien, who was an +actor, had represented the part with distinction, how much better +would it not be played by the real thing--the real gentleman who might +undertake it? + +That was the very plausible reasoning of the “real gentleman” who hoped +to win applause by appearing in O'Brien's part in the comedy at Downing +Street. But when the piece was rehearsed with the young Viscount +B-------- in the character, Lady Susan threw up her hands, and +threatened to throw up her part as well. + +“Lud!” she cried to her associates in the temporary green-room, “Lud! +you would fancy that he had never seen a gentleman of fashion in his +life! Why cannot he act himself instead of somebody else? When he comes +from rehearsal he is the very character itself, but the moment he begins +to speak his part he is no more the part than the link-boy.” + +Every one present agreed with her--the young gentlemen who were anxious +to have the reversion of the part were especially hearty in their +acquiescence. + +But there could be no doubt about the matter, Lord B------ was +deplorably incompetent. He was not even consistently incompetent, for +in one scene in the second act, where there was an element of boisterous +humour, he was tame and spiritless; but in the love-making scene, which +brought the third act to a close, he was awkward, and so anxious to show +his spirit that he became as vulgar as any country clown making advances +to his Meg or Polly. + +And of course he felt all the time that he was doing amazingly well. + +Lady Susan was angry at first, and then she became witty. Her sallies, +directed against him in every scene, were, however, lost upon him, no +matter how calculated they were to sting him; he was too self-satisfied +to be affected by any criticism that might be offered to him by man or +woman. + +And then Lady Susan was compelled to abandon her wit and to become +natural. She flounced off the stage when her lover (in the play) was +more than commonly loutish, and burst into tears of vexation in the arms +of her dear friend Lady Sarah Lennox. + +“I never had such a chance until now,” she cried. “Never, oh, never! +The part might have been written for me; and I implore of you, Sarah, to +tell me candidly if Mrs. Abington or Mrs. Clive could act it with more +sprightliness than I have shown in that last scene?” + +“Impossible, my sweet Sue!” cried her friend. “I vow that I have never +seen anything more arch than your mock rejection of your lover, only to +draw him on.” + +“You dear creature!” cried Lady Sue. “You are a true friend and a +competent critic, Sarah. But what signifies my acting, perfect though +it be, when that--that idiot fails to respond in any way to the spirit +which I display? The whole play will be damned, and people who know +nothing of the matter will spread the report that 'twas my lack of power +that brought about the disaster.” + +“They cannot be so vile,” said Lady Sarah soothingly. + +“But they will. I know how vile some of our friends can be when it suits +them, and when they are jealous of the acquirements of another. They +will sneer at my best scenes--oh, the certainty that they will do so +will be enough to make my best scenes fail. But no! they shall not have +the chance of maligning me. I will go to Sir Francis and resign my part. +Yes, I will! I tell you I shall!” + +The indignant young lady, with something of the stage atmosphere still +clinging to her, flung herself with the gesture of a tortured heroine, +proud and passionate, toward the door of the room to which the two +ladies had retired. But before she had her fingers on the handle the +door opened and Sir Francis Délavai entered. + +“A thousand pardons, my dear ladies,” he cried, bowing to the carpet. “I +had forgot for the moment that when a man turns his house into a theatre +he can call no room in it his own. But I should be a churl to suggest +that any room in my poor house would not be made beautiful by the +presence of your ladyships. After all, this is only my library, and a +library is only a polite name for a dormitory, and a--but what is this? +I said not a lacrymatory.” + +He was looking curiously into Lady Susan's face, which retained the +marks of her recent tears. + +“Dear Sir Francis, you have come in good time,” said Lady Sarah boldly. +“Here is this poor child weeping her heart out because she is condemned +to play the part of--of what's her name?--the lady in the play who had +to make love to an ass?” + +“Oh, sir, mine is a far worse plight,” said Lady Susan, pouting. “It +were bad enough for one to have to make love to an ass, but how much +worse is't not for one to be made love to by--by--my Lord B------?” + +“That were a calculation far above my powers,” said Sir Francis. “My +lord has never made love to me, but if rumour and the gossip at White's +speak even a soupçon of truth, his lordship is well practised in the +art--if love-making is an art.” + +“Sir, 'tis a combination of all the arts,” said Lady Susan; “and yet +my lord cannot simulate the least of them, which is that of being a +gentleman, when he makes love to me on the stage, through the character +of Captain Bellaire in our play.” + +“To be plain, Sir Francis,” said Lady Sarah, as though the other had not +been plain enough in her explanation, “To be plain, Lady Susan, +rather than be associated in any measure with such a failure as your +theatricals are bound to be if my Lord B------ remains in the part of +her lover, has made up her mind to relinquish her part. But believe me, +sir, she does so with deep regret.” + +“Hence these tears,” said Sir Francis. “My poor child, you are indeed in +a pitiable state if you are so deeply chagrined at a clumsy love-making +merely on the stage.” + +“Merely on the stage?” cried Lady Susan. “Lud, Sir Francis, have you not +the wit to see that to be made love to indifferently on the stage is far +more unendurable than it would be in private, since in the one case you +have the eyes of all the people upon you, whereas in the other case you +are as a rule alone?” + +“As a rule,” said Sir Francis. “Yes, I perceive the difference, and I +mingle mine own turgid tears with your limpid drops. But we cannot spare +you from our play.” + +“No, you cannot, Sir Francis, but you can spare Lord B------, and so can +the play,” suggested Lady Sarah. + +“What, you would have me turn him out of the part?” said Sir Francis. + +“Even so--but with politeness,” said Lady Sarah. + +“Perhaps your ladyship has solved the problem how to kick a man out of +your house politely. If so, I would willingly pay you for the recipe; I +have been in search of it all my life,” said Sir Francis. + +“Surely, sir, if you kick a man hard enough with your slippers on he +will leave your house as surely as if you wear the boots of a Life +Guardsman,” said Lady Susan timidly. + +“I doubt it not, madam; but before trying such an experiment it would be +well to make sure that the fellow does not wear boots himself.” + +“Psha! Sir Francis. If a man were to beg leave to measure the thickness +of his enemy's soles before offering to kick him there would be very few +cases of assault and battery,” cried Lady Susan. + +“That is good philosophy--see what we have come to--philosophy, when we +started talking of lovemaking,” said Sir Francis. + +“However we have digressed in conversation, sir, our minds remain +steadfast on the point round which we have been circling,” said Lady +Sarah. + +“And that is------” + +“That Lord B------must go.” + +The door was thrown open and Lord B------ entered. + +“A good preliminary--one must come before one goes,” whispered Sir +Francis to the ladies. + +His lordship was evidently perturbed. He scarcely bowed either to Sir +Francis or the ladies. + +“I was told that you had come hither, Sir Francis,” he said, “so I +followed you.” + +“You do me honour, my lord,” said Sir Francis. + +“I took a liberty, sir; but this is not a time for punctilio. I have +come to resign my part in your play, sir,” said his lordship. + +“Oh, surely not, my lord,” cried Sir Francis. “What would the _School +for Lovers_ be without Bellaire, my lord? Why only now Lady Susan was +saying--what is it that your ladyship said?” + +“It had something to do with philosophy and the sole of a grenadier,” + said Lady Sarah interposing. + +“Nay, was it not that his lordship's impersonation made you think of +a scene from _Midsummer Night's Dream?_” said Sir Francis. “One of +the most beautiful of Shakespeare's plays, is't not, my lord?--fantasy +mingled with irony, an oasis of fairyland in the midst of a desert of +daily life.” + +“I know nothing about your fairyland, sir, but I have been told +within the hour that her ladyship”--he bowed in the direction of Lady +Susan--“has, during the three rehearsals which we have had of the play, +been sneering in a covert way at my acting of the part of Bellaire, +although to my face she seemed delighted, and thus----” + +“Are you sure that your informant was right in his interpretation of her +ladyship's words? Surely your lordship--a man of the world--would have +been sensible of every shade of her ladyship's meaning?” + +“I have been told by one on whose judgment I can rely that Lady Susan +was speaking in sarcasm when she complimented me before the rest of the +company. I did not take her as doing so for myself, I must confess. I +have always believed--on insufficient evidence, I begin to fear--that +her ladyship was a discriminating critic--even now if she were to assure +me that she was not speaking in sarcasm----” + +“Oh, lud! he is relenting,” whispered Lady Sarah. + +“Did you speak, madam?” said his lordship. + +“I was protesting against a too early exercise of your lordship's +well-known spirit of forgiveness,” said her ladyship. + +“I thank you, Lady Sarah; I am, I know, too greatly inclined to take a +charitable view of--of--Why, sink me if she, too, is not trying to +make me look ridiculous!” cried his lordship. + +“Nay, my lord, I cannot believe that Lady Sarah would be at the pains to +do for you what you can so well do for yourself,” remarked Lady Susan. + +His lordship looked at her--his mouth was slightly open--then he gazed +at the smiling features of the beautiful Lady Sarah, lastly at the +perfectly expressionless features of Sir Francis. + +“A plot--a plot!” he murmured. Then he struck a commonplace theatrical +attitude, the “exit attitude” of the man who tells you that his time +will come, though appearances are against him for the moment. He pointed +a firm forefinger at Lady Susan, saying: “I wash my hands clear of you +all. I have done with you and your plays. Get another man to fill my +place if you can.” + +Then he rushed out through the open door. He seemed to have a shrewd +suspicion that if he were to wait another moment one at least of the +girls would have an effective answer to his challenge, and it is quite +likely that his suspicion was well founded. As it was, however, owing +to his wise precipitancy he heard no more than the pleasant laughter--it +really was pleasant laughter, though it did not sound so to him--of the +two girls. + +But when the sound of the slamming of the hall-door reached the library +the laughter in that apartment suddenly ceased. Sir Francis Délavai +looked at each of the ladies, and both of them looked at him. For +some moments no word was exchanged between them. At last one of them +spoke--it was, strange to say, the man. + +“This is vastly fine, ladies,” he remarked. “You have got rid of your +_bête-noire_, Lady Susan; that, I say, is vastly fine, but where are you +to find a _bête-blanche_ to take his place?” + +“Surely we can find some gentleman willing to act the part of Bellaire?” + said Lady Sarah. + +“Oh, there is not like to be a lack of young gentlemen willing to take +the part, but we want not merely willingness, but competence as well; +and the piece must be played on Wednesday, even though the part of +Bellaire be left out,” said Sir Francis. + +Lady Susan looked blankly at the floor. She seemed ready to renew the +tears which she had wept on the shoulder of her friend a short time +before. + +“Have I been too hasty?” she said. “Alas! I fear that I have been +selfish. I thought only of the poor figure that I should cut with such a +lover--and with all the world looking on, too! I should have given more +thought to your distress, Sir Francis.” + +“Say no more, I pray of you; better have no play at all than one that +all our kind friends will damn with the utmost cordiality and good +breeding,” said Sir Francis. + +“True, sir, but think of the ladies' dresses!” said Lady Sarah. “What +the ladies say is, 'Better produce a play that will be cordially damned +rather than deprive us of our chance of displaying our new dresses.'” + +“Heavens!” cried Sir Francis, “I had not thought of the new dresses. +Lady Susan, you will e'en have to face the anger of your sisters--'tis +not I that will tarry for such an event. I mean to fly to Bath +or Brighthelmstone, or perchance to Timbuctoo, until the storm be +overpast.” + +“Nay, nay, 'tis not a time for jesting, sir; let us not look at the +matter from the standpoint of men, who do not stand but run away, let us +be women for once, and scheme,” said Lady Susan. + +“That is woman's special province,” said Sir Francis. “Pray begin, my +lady--'twill be strange if your ladyship and Lady Sarah do not succeed +in----” + +“Psha! there is but one man in England who could play the part of +Bellaire on Wednesday,” cried Lady Sarah. “Ay, sir, and he is the only +one in England capable of playing it.” + +“Then we shall have him on our stage if I should have to pay a thousand +pounds for his services,” said Sir Francis. “But where is he to be +found?” + +“Cannot you guess, sir?” asked Lady Sarah, smiling. + +Sir Francis looked puzzled, but Lady Sue started and caught her friend +by the wrist. + +“You do not mean----” she began. + +“Lud! these girls! Here's a scheme if you will!” muttered Sir Francis. + +“Ay, if you will, Sir Francis. You know that I mean Mr. O'Brien himself +and none other,” cried Lady Sarah. + +“Impossible!” cried Lady Susan. “My father would never consent to my +acting in a play with a real actor--no, not even if he were Mr. Garrick +himself. How could you suggest such a thing, Sarah?” + +“What, do you mean to tell me that you would refuse to act with Mr. +O'Brien?” asked Lady Sarah. + +“Oh, hear the child!” cried Lady Susan. “She asks me a question to which +she knows only one answer is possible, and looks all the time as though +she expected just the opposite answer!” + +“I know well that there are a good many ladies who would give all that +they possess for the chance of acting with Mr. O'Brien, and you are +among the number, my dear,” laughed Lady Sarah. + +“I dare not--I dare not. And yet----” murmured the other girl. + +Sir Francis had been lost in thought while the two had been bickering +over the body of O'Brien. He had walked across the room and seated +himself for some moments. Now he rose and held up a finger. + +“Ladies, this is a serious matter for all of us,” he said. And he spoke +the truth to a greater depth than he was aware of. “'Tis a very serious +matter. If we get Mr. O'Brien to play the part, the piece will be the +greatest success of the day. If we fail to get him, our theatricals will +be damned to a certainty. Lady Susan, will you consent to play with him +if his name does not appear upon the bill?” + +“But every one would know Mr. O'Brien,” she faltered, after a pause that +was overcharged with excitement. + +“Yes, in fact; but no one will have official cognizance of him, and, +as you must know, in these matters of etiquette everything depends upon +official cognizance.” + +“My father--” + +“His lordship will have no _locus standi_ in the case. He cannot take +notice of an act that is not officially recognisable,” suggested Sir +Francis, the sophist. + +“If you assure me---- But is't true that Mr. O'Brien only ceased to +become a gentleman when he became an actor?” said Lady Susan. + +“I have not heard that he relinquished the one part when he took up the +other,” said Sir Francis. “I wonder that you have not met him at the +houses of some of our friends--he is more popular even than Mr. Garrick. +The family of O'Brien----” + +“All kings, I doubt not,” said Lady Susan. “There were a good many +kings in Ireland in the old days, I believe. I read somewhere that +ninety-seven kings were killed in one battle, and still there were quite +enough left to carry on the quarrels of the country. Oh, yes, there +were plenty of kings, and their descendants have--well, descended. Mr. +O'Brien descended pretty far when he became a play-actor.” + +“If he condescends to take up the part of Bellaire at the eleventh hour +to pluck our theatricals out of the fire we shall have every reason to +be grateful to him,” said Sir Francis with a severe air of reproof. He +was beginning to be tired--as others in his place have been from time to +time--of the capriciousness of his company of amateurs. + +“You are right, sir,” said Lady Sarah. “Come, my dear Sue, cease to give +yourself the airs of those ladies who, Mr. Garrick affirms, have been +the plague of his life. If Mr. O'Brien agrees to come to our rescue you +should have no feeling but of gratitude to him. Surely 'twere churlish +on the part of a damsel when a gallant knight rides up to her rescue to +look at his horse in the mouth.” + +“I am thinking of my father,” said the other. “But I am disposed to +accept the risk of the situation. You will promise that his name will +not appear in the bills, Sir Francis?” + +“I will promise to do my best to save you from the contamination of +having your name made as immortal as Mr. O'Brien's,” said Sir Francis. + +Lady Sarah laughed, and so did her friend--after a pause sufficient to +allow the colour that had come to her face at the stinging reproof to +die away. + +“I hope that you may catch your bird, sir--your eagle--your Irish +eagle.” + +“If I could tell him that Lady Sarah Lennox was to be in the cast of the +play I should need no further lure for him,” said Sir Francis, making +his most exquisite bow to her. + +“Oh, sir, you overwhelm me,” said Lady Sarah, sinking in her most +ravishing courtesy. + +Lady Susan coloured once more, and her foot played a noiseless tattoo on +the floor, for she perceived all that Sir Francis's compliment implied. +Lady Sarah was the most beautiful girl in England, while Lady Susan was +not even second to her, a fact of which she was as well aware as her +friends. + +This was how Lady Susan Fox-Strangways first met Mr. O'Brien, the +actor whom Garrick had brought from Ireland in the year 1762. He +good-naturedly agreed to help Sir Francis Délavai in his extremity, and +his ready Irish tact enabled him to be the first to stipulate that his +name should not appear in the bills--a condition with which Sir Francis +complied, drawing a long breath. + +“Mr. O'Brien,” he said, “should the stage ever fail you, a fortune +awaits you if you undertake the duty of teaching gentlemen the art of +being a gentleman.” + +“Ah, sir, the moment that art enters the door the gentleman flies out +by the window,” said the actor. “It is Nature, not art, that makes a +gentleman.” + +One can well believe that Lady Susan Fox-Strangways, with all the pride +of her connection with a peerage nearly ten years old, treated Mr. +O'Brien's accession to a place in the company of amateurs with some +hauteur, though it was said that she fell in love with him at once. On +consideration, her bearing of hauteur which we have ventured to assign +to her, so far from being incompatible with her having fallen in love +with him, would really be a natural consequence of such an accident, and +the deeper she felt herself falling the more she would feel it necessary +to assert her position, if only for the sake of convincing herself that +it was impossible for her to forget herself so far as to think of an +Irish play-actor as occupying any other position in regard to her than +that of a diversion for the moment. + +It was equally a matter of course that Lady Sarah should have an +instinct of what was taking place. She had attended several of the +rehearsals previously in the capacity of adviser to her friend, for Lady +Susan had a high opinion of her critical capacity; but not until two +rehearsals had taken place with O'Brien as Bellaire was she able to +resume her attendance at Downing Street. Before half an hour had passed +this astute lady had seen, first, that O'Brien made every other man in +the cast seem a lout; and, secondly, that Lady Susan felt that every man +in the world was a lout by the side of O'Brien. + +She hoped to discover what were the impressions of O'Brien, but she +found herself foiled: the man was too good an actor to betray himself. +The fervour which he threw into the character when making love to Lady +Susan had certainly the semblance of a real passion, but what did this +mean more than that Mr. O'Brien was a convincing actor? + +When she arrived at this point in her consideration of the situation +Lady Sarah lost herself, and began to long with all her heart that the +actor were making love to her--taking her hand with that incomparable +devotion to--was it his art?--which he showed when Lady Susan's hand was +raised, with a passionate glance into her eyes, to his lips; putting his +arm about her waist, while his lips, trembling under the force of the +protestations of undying devotion which they were uttering, were almost +touching Lady Susan's ear. Before the love scene was over Lady Sarah was +in love with the actor, if not with the man, O'Brien. + +So was every lady in the cast. O'Brien was the handsomest actor of the +day. He had been careful of his figure at a time when men of fashion +lived in such a way as made the preservation of a figure well-nigh +impossible. Every movement was grace itself with him, and the period +was one in which the costume of a man gave him every chance of at least +imitating a graceful man. All the others in the cast of the play seemed +imitating the gracefulness of O'Brien, and every man of them seemed +a clown beside him. They gave themselves countless graces, but he was +grace itself. + +Lady Sarah saw everything that was to be seen and said nothing. She was +wise. She knew that in due time her friend would tell her all there was +to be told. + +She was not disappointed. The play was produced, and of course every +one recognised O'Brien in the part, although the bill--printed in gold +letters on a satin ground, with a charming allegorical design by Lady +Diana Spencer, showing a dozen dainty cupids going to school with +satchels--stated that Bellaire would be represented by “a gentleman.” + +Equally as a matter of course a good many of the spectators affirmed +that it was intolerable that a play-actor should be smuggled into a +company of amateurs, some of them belonging to the best families. And +then to attempt a deception of the audience by suggesting that O'Brien +was a gentleman--oh, the thing was unheard of! So said some of the +ladies, adding that they thought it rather sad that Lady Susan was not +better-looking. + +But of the success of the entertainment there could not be a doubt. It +was the talk of the town for a month, and every one noticed--even her +own father--that Lady Susan was looking extremely thin and very pale. + +Lady Sarah said that she had taken the diversion of the theatricals too +seriously. + +“I saw it from the first, my dear Sue,” she said. + +Sue sprang from her chair, and it would be impossible for any one to say +now that she was over pale. + +“You saw it--you--what was it that you saw from the first?” she cried. + +Lady Sarah looked at her and laughed. + +“Ah, that is it--what was it that I saw from the first?” she said. “What +I was going to say that I saw was simply that you were throwing yourself +too violently into the production of the play. That was why you insisted +on poor Lord B------'s getting his _congé_. It was a mistake--I saw that +also.” + +“When did you see that?” + +“When I saw you taking part in that love scene with Mr. O'Brien.” + +“What mean you by that, Lady Sarah?” + +“Exactly what you fancy I mean, Lady Susan.” + +Lady Susan gazed at her blankly at first, then very pitifully. In +another moment she had flung herself on her knees at the feet of her +friend and was weeping in her lap. + +The friend was full of sympathy. + +“You poor child!” she murmured, “how could you help it? I vow that I +myself--yes, for some minutes--I was as deep in love with the fellow as +you yourself were. But, of course, you were with him longer--every day. +Lud! what a handsome rascal he is, to be sure. His lordship must take +you to the country without delay. Has the fellow tried to transfer the +character in the play beyond the footlights?” + +“Never--never!” cried Susan. “Sir Francis was right--he is a gentleman. +That is the worst of it!” + +“Oh, lud! the worst of it? Are you mad, girl?” + +“I am not mad now, but I know that I shall be if he remains a +gentleman--if he refrains from telling me that he loves me--or at least +of giving me a chance of telling him that I love him. That would be +better than nothing--'twould be such a relief. I really do not think +that I want anything more than to be able to confess to him that I love +him--that 'tis impossible that I should love another.” + +“The sooner you go to the country the better 'twill be for yourself and +all of us--his lordship especially. Good heavens, child, you must be +mad! Do you fancy that his lordship would give his consent to your +marriage with a strolling player, let him be as handsome as Beelzebub?” + +“He is not a strolling player. Mr. O'Brien is in Mr. Garrick's company, +and every one knows that he is of good family. I have been searching it +out for the past week--all about the O'Briens--there were a great many +of them, all of them distinguished. If it had not been that King James +was defeated by William, in Ireland, Mr. O'Brien's grandfather would +have been made a duke. They were all heroes, the O'Briens. And they were +just too sincere in their devotion to the losing side--that was it--the +losing side was always the one they took up. And yet you call him a +strolling player!” + +“I take back the insinuation and offer him my apologies; he is not a +strolling player because he doesn't stroll--would to Heaven he did! Oh, +my poor Sue, take a stroll into the country yourself as soon as possible +and try to forget this dreadfully handsome wretch. You would not, I am +sure, force me to tell his lordship what a goose his daughter is like to +make of herself.” + +At this point there was a dramatic scene, one that was far more deeply +charged with comedy of a sort than any to be found in Mr. Whitehead's +play. Lady Susan accused her dear friend of being a spy, of extorting +a confession from her under the guise of friendship, which in other +circumstances--the rack, the wheel, the thumbscrew, in fact the entire +mechanism of persuasion employed by the Spanish Inquisition--would have +been powerless to obtain. Lady Sarah on her side entreated her friend +not to show herself to be even a greater goose than her confession +would make her out to be. For several minutes there was reproach and +counter-reproach, many home truths followed home thrusts; then some +tears, self-accusation, expressions of sympathy and tenderness, followed +by promises of friendship beyond the dreams of Damon and Pythias; +lastly, a promise on the part of Sue that she would take the advice of +her devoted Sarah and fly to the country without delay. + +Strange to say, she fled to the country, and, stranger still, the result +was not to cure her of her infatuation for the handsome actor. For close +upon a year she did not see him, but she was as devoted to him as she +had been at first, and no day passed on which she failed to think of +him, or to spend some hours writing romantic verses, sometimes in the +style of Waller in his lyrics, sometimes in the style (distant) of Mr. +Dryden in his pastorals: she was Lesbia, and Mr. O'Brien was Strephon. + +But in the meantime she had improved so much in her acting that when +Lady Sarah, who had within the year married Sir Thomas Bunbury, ventured +to rally her upon her infatuation of the previous spring, she was +able to disarm her suspicions by a flush and a shrug, and a little +contemptuous exclamation or two. + +“Ah, my dear one, did not I give you good advice?” cried Lady Sarah. “I +was well assured that my beloved Sue would never persevere in a passion +that could only end in unhappiness. But indeed, child, I never had the +heart to blame you greatly, the fellow is handsome as Apollo and as +proud as Apolyon. He has broken many hearts not accounted particularly +fragile, during the year.” + +“Is't possible? For example?--I vow that I shall keep their names +secret.” + +Lady Sarah shook her head at first, but on being importuned whispered a +name or two of ladies of their acquaintance, all of whom--according to +Lady Sarah--had fallen as deep as was possible in love with O'Brien. Her +ladyship was so intent on her narration of the scandals that she quite +failed to see the strange light that gleamed in her friend's eyes at the +mention of every name--a rather fierce gleam, with a flash of green in +it. She did not notice this phenomenon, nor did she detect the false +note in the tribute of laughter which her friend paid to her powers of +narration. + +But Lady Sue, when the other had left her, rushed to her room and flung +herself on her bed in a paroxysm of jealousy. She beat her innocent +pillow wildly, crying in the whisper that the clenching of her teeth +made imperative--“The hussies! Shameless creatures! Do they hope that he +will be attracted to them? Fools!--they are fools! They do not know him +as I know him. They think that he is nothing but a vain actor--Garrick, +or Barry, or Lewes. Oh, they do not know him!” + +She lay there in her passion for an hour, and if it was her maid who +discovered her at the end of that time, it is safe to assume that +the young woman's flesh was black and blue in places for several +days afterwards. The pinch and the slipper were among the most highly +approved forms of torture inflicted upon their maids at that robust +period of English history. The French Revolution was still some way off. + +A few weeks later Lady Susan was sitting to Sir Joshua Reynolds for a +group, in which he painted her with her friend Lady Sarah Bunbury and +Mr. Henry Fox; and it was the carrying out of this scheme that put quite +another scheme into the quick brain of the first-named lady. Painting +was in the air. She possessed a poor print of Mr. O'Brien, and she had +found an immense consolation in gazing upon it--frequently at midnight, +under the light of her bedroom candle. The sight of the life-like +portraits in Sir Joshua's studio induced her to ask herself if she might +not possess a picture of her lover that would show him as he really was +in life, without demanding so many allowances as were necessary to be +made for the shortcomings of the engraver of a print. Why should she not +get Sir Joshua Reynolds to paint for her the portrait of Mr. O'Brien? + +[Illustration: 0379] + +The thought was a stimulating one, and it took possession of her for a +week. At the end of that time, however, she came to the conclusion that +it would be unwise for her to employ Sir Joshua on a commission that +might possibly excite some comment on the part of her friends should +they come to learn--and the work of this particular painter was rather +inclined to be assertive--that it had been executed to her order. But +she was determined not to live any longer without a portrait of the man; +and, hearing some one mention at Sir Joshua's house the name of Miss +Catherine Read, who was described as an excellent portrait painter, she +made further inquiry, and the result was that she begged her father, +the Earl of Ilchester, who was devoted to her, to allow her to have her +portrait done by Miss Read, to present to Lady Sarah on her birthday. + +Of course Miss Read was delighted to have the patronage of so great +a family--she had not yet done her famous pastel of the Duchess of +Argyll--and Susan, accompanied by her footman, lost no time in beginning +her series of sittings to the artist to whom Horace Walpole referred as +“the painteress.” + +She was both patient and discreet, for three whole days elapsed before +she produced a mezzotint of Mr. O'Brien. + +“I wonder if you would condescend to draw a miniature portrait of his +lordship's favourite actor from so poor a copy as this, Miss Read?” she +said. “Have you ever seen this Mr. O'Brien--an Irishman, I believe he +is?” + +Miss Read assured her that Mr. O'Brien was her favourite actor also. The +print produced was indeed a poor one; it quite failed to do justice to +the striking features of the original, she said. + +“I felt certain that it could bear but a meagre resemblance to Mr. +O'Brien if all that I hear of the man be true,” said Lady Susan. “His +lordship swears that there has never been so great an actor in England, +and I should like to give him a surprise by presenting to him a +miniature portrait of his favourite, done by the cunning pencil of Miss +Read, on his birthday. I protest that 'tis a vast kindness you are doing +me in undertaking such a thing. But mind, I would urge of you to keep +the affair a profound secret. I wish it as a surprise to my father, and +its effect would be spoilt were it to become known to any of his friends +that I had this intention.” + +“Your ladyship may rest assured that no living creature will hear of the +affair through me,” said the painteress. “But I heartily wish that your +ladyship could procure for me a better copy than this print from which +to work,” she added. + +“I fear that I cannot promise you that; I found two other prints of the +same person, but they are worse even than this,” said Lady Susan. “You +must do your best with the material at your disposal.” + +“Your ladyship may depend on my doing my best,” replied Miss Read. “When +does his lordship's birthday take place?” + +Her ladyship was somewhat taken aback by the sudden question. It took +her some time to recollect that her father's birthday was to be within +a month. She felt that she could not live for longer than another month +without a portrait of the man whom she loved. + +While she was going home in her chair she could not but feel that she +had hitherto been an undutiful daughter, never having taken any interest +in her father's birthday, and being quite unacquainted with its date. +She hoped fervently that Miss Read would not put herself to the trouble +to find out exactly on what day of what month it took place. The result +of such an investigation might be a little awkward. + +It so happened that Miss Read took no trouble in this direction. All her +attention was turned upon the task of making a presentable miniature out +of the indifferent material with which she had been supplied for this +purpose. She began wondering if it might not be possible to get O'Brien +to sit to her half a dozen times in order to give her a chance of doing +credit to herself and to the gentleman's fine features. + +She was still pondering over this question when her attendant entered +with a card, saying that a gentleman had come to wait on her. + +She read the name on the card, and uttered an exclamation of surprise, +for the name was that of the man of whom she was thinking--Mr. O'Brien, +of Drury Lane Theatre. + +She had wholly failed to recover herself before he entered the studio, +and advanced to her, making his most respectful bow. He politely +ignored her flutter-ings--he was used to see her sex overwhelmed when he +appeared. + +“Madam, I beg that you will pardon this intrusion,” he said. “I have +taken the liberty of waiting upon you, knowing of your great capacity as +an artist.” + +“Oh, sir!” cried the fluttered little lady, making her courtesy. + +“Nay, madam, I have no intention of flattering one to whom compliments +must be as customary as they are well deserved,” said the actor. “I come +not to confer a favour, madam, but to entreat one. In short, Miss Read, +I am desirous of presenting a valued friend of mine with the portrait of +a lady for whom he entertains a sincere devotion. For certain reasons, +which I need not specify, the lady cannot sit to you; but I have here +a picture of her poorly done in chalks, from which I hope it may be +in your power to make a good--a good---- Good heavens! what do I +behold? 'Tis she--she--Lady Susan herself!” + +He had glanced round the studio in the course of his speech, and his +eyes had alighted upon the newly-begun portrait of Lady Susan. It +represented only a few days' work, but the likeness to the original had +been ably caught, and no one could fail to recognise the features. + +He took a hurried step to the easel, and the air made by his motion +dislodged a print which the artist had laid on the little ledge that +supported the stretcher of the canvas. The print fluttered to the floor; +he picked it up, and gave another exclamation on recognising his own +portrait in the mezzotint. + +Looking from the print to the picture and then at Miss Read, he said in +a low voice, after a pause--“Madam, I am bewildered. Unless you come +to my assistance I protest I shall feel that I am dreaming and asleep. +Pray, madam, enlighten me--for Heaven's sake tell me how this”--he held +up the print--“came into such close juxtaposition with that”--he pointed +to the portrait on the easel. + +“'Tis easily told, sir,” said Miss Read, smiling archly. “But I must +leave it to your sense of honour to keep the matter a profound secret.” + +“Madam,” said Mr. O'Brien with dignity, “Madam, I am an Irishman.” + +“That is enough, sir; I know that I can trust you. The truth is, Mr. +O'Brien, that Lady Susan is sitting to me for her portrait--that +portrait. 'Twas marvellous that you should recognise it so soon. I have +not worked at it for many hours.” + +“Madam, your art is beyond that of the magician. 'Tis well known that +every form depicted by Miss Read not only breathes but speaks.” + +“Oh, sir, I vow that you are a flatterer; still, you did recognise the +portrait--'tis to be presented to Lady Sarah Bunbury.” + +“Her ladyship will be the most fortunate of womankind.” + +“Which ladyship, sir--Lady Susan or Lady Sarah?” + +“Both, madam.” The Irishman was bowing with his hand on his heart. “But +the print--my poor likeness?” + +“That is the secret, sir; but you will not betray it when I tell you +that Lady Susan entrusted that print to me in order that I might make a +copy in miniature for her to present to her father, Lord Ilchester. You +are his favourite actor, Mr. O'Brien, as no doubt you are aware.” + +“'Tis the first I heard of it, madam.” There was a suggestion of +mortification in the actor's tone. + +“Ah, 'twould be impossible for Mr. O'Brien to keep an account of all his +conquests. But now you can understand how it is that her ladyship wishes +her intention to be kept a secret: she means to add to the acceptability +of her gift by presenting it as a surprise. But her secret is safe in +your keeping, sir?” + +“I swear to it, madam.” Mr. O'Brien spoke mechanically. His hand was on +his chin: he was clearly musing upon some question that perplexed him. +He took a turn up and down the studio, and then said: + +“Madam, it has just occurred to me that you, as a great artist----” + +“Nay, sir,” interposed the blushing painteress. + +“I will not take back a word, madam,” said the actor, holding up one +inexorable hand. “I say that surely so great an artist as you should +disdain to do the work of a mere copyist. Why should not you confer upon +me the honour of sitting to you for the miniature portrait?” + +“Oh, sir, that is the one favour which I meant to ask of you, if my +courage had not failed me.” + +“Madam, you will confer immortality upon a simple man through that magic +wand which you wield.” He swept his hand with inimitable grace over the +mahl-stick which lay against the easel. “I am all impatient to begin my +sitting, Miss Read. Pray let me come to-morrow.” + +“Her ladyship comes to-morrow.” + +“I shall precede her ladyship. Name the hour, madam.” + +Without the least demur Miss Read named an hour which could enable him +to be far away from the studio before Lady Susan's arrival. + +And yet the next day Lady Susan entered the studio quite half an hour +before Mr. O'Brien had left it. Of course she was surprised. Had not +Miss Read received a letter, making her aware of the fact that she, Lady +Susan, would be forced, owing to circumstances over which she had +no control, to sit for her portrait an hour earlier than that of her +appointment? + +When Miss Read said she had received no such letter, Lady Susan said +some very severe things about her maid. Miss Read was greatly fluttered, +but she explained in as few words as possible how it was that Mr. +O'Brien had come forward in the cause of art, and was sitting for the +miniature. Lady Susan quickly got over her surprise. (Had Miss Read seen +the letter which her ladyship had received the previous evening from +Mr. O'Brien she would not have marvelled as she did at the rapidity +with which her ladyship recovered her self-possession.) Her ladyship +was quite friendly with the actor, and thanked him for his courtesy +in offering to give up so much of his time solely for the sake of +increasing the value of her gift to her father. + +A few minutes later, while they were discussing some point in the design +of the picture, Miss Read was called out of the studio, and in a second +Lady Susan was in his arms. + +“Fate is on our side, darling girl!” he whispered. + +“I could not live without you, my charmer. But I was bold! I took my +fate in both hands when I wrote you that letter.” + +“Dear one, 'twas the instinct of true love that made you guess the +truth--that I wanted the portrait because I loved the original. Oh, dear +one, what have I not suffered during the year that has parted us!” said +Lady Susan, with her head upon his shoulder. + +The Irishman found it necessary to fall back upon the seductive tongue +of his country for words of endearment to bestow upon her. He called her +“Sheila,” “a cushla machree,” “mavourneen,” and also “aroon.” But when +Miss Read returned to the studio they were still discussing a purely +artistic point in connection with the portrait. + +Of course now that O'Brien knew the secret of the miniature there was no +reason that Miss Read could see why he and Lady Susan should not meet at +her studio. To do her justice, neither could her ladyship perceive why +they should not come together at this place. They came every day, and +every day Lady Susan begged that Miss Read would allow her to rest in +her ante-room after the fatigue of the sitting. She rested in that +room, and in the company of O'Brien, until at last Miss Read became +frightened; and one day told her friend Lord Cathcart something of her +fears. Lord Cathcart, in his turn, told Lord Ilchester. His lordship was +furious, but cautious. + +He wanted evidence of his daughter's infatuation. He got it the next +morning, for he insisted on seeing a letter which arrived for Lady +Susan, addressed in the handwriting of Lady Sarah. This letter turned +out to be from O'Brien, and Susan confessed that her father's surmise +was correct--all the letters which she had recently received in Lady +Sarah's hand had come from O'Brien. + +Her father was foolish enough to grant her permission to say farewell +to her lover, and thus the two were allowed to come together once more. +They had a long talk, in the course of which O'Brien communicated to her +a secret of the theatre, which was that Mr. Garrick and Mr. Colman were +engaged in the construction of a comedy to be called _The Clandestine +Marriage_, and that Mr. Garrick told him that he, O'Brien, was to play +the part of the lover--the gentleman who had married the lady in secret. + +Lady Susan parted from her lover, not in tears, but in laughter. + +The conclusion of the story is told by Horace Walpole, writing to Lord +Hertford. + +“You will have heard of the sad misfortune that has happened to Lord +Ilchester by his daughter's marriage with O'Brien, the actor,” wrote +Walpole; and then went on to tell how Lady Susan had made her confession +to her father, vowing to have nothing more to do with her lover if she +were but permitted to bid him good-bye. “You will be amazed,” continued +Walpole, “even this was granted. The parting scene happened the +beginning of the week. On Friday she came of age, and on Saturday +morning--instead of being under lock and key in the country--walked +downstairs, took her footman, said she was going to breakfast with +Lady Sarah, but would call at Miss Read's; in the street pretended +to recollect a particular cap in which she was to be drawn, sent the +footman back for it, whipped into a hackney chair, was married at Covent +Garden Church, and set out for Mr. O'Brien's villa at Dunstable.” + +Unlike many other alliances of a similar type, this marriage turned out +a happy one. O'Brien was induced to leave the stage and to depart with +his wife for America. He obtained a grant of some forty thousand acres +in the province of New York, and had he retained this property and taken +the right side during the Revolution his descendants would to-day be +the richest people in the world. A few years later he was given a +good appointment in Bermuda; and finally, in 1770, he was made +Receiver-General of the County of Dorset, and became popular as a +country squire. He died in 1815, and Lady Susan survived him by twelve +years. + +It was Lady Sarah who had made the imprudent marriage. She submitted to +the cruelties of her husband for fourteen years, and on her leaving his +roof he obtained a divorce. + +In 1781, nineteen years after her first marriage, she wedded the Hon. +George Napier, and became the mother of three of the greatest Englishmen +of the nineteenth century. She lived until she was eighty. Her friend +Lady Susan followed her to the grave a year later, at the age of +eighty-four. + + +THE END + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Georgian Pageant, by Frank Frankfort Moore + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 51964 *** diff --git a/51964-h/51964-h.htm b/51964-h/51964-h.htm index 1de443d..e4797bf 100644 --- a/51964-h/51964-h.htm +++ b/51964-h/51964-h.htm @@ -1,9741 +1,9324 @@ -<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
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- A Georgian Pageant, by Frank Frankfort Moore
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-The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Georgian Pageant, by Frank Frankfort Moore
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-Title: A Georgian Pageant
-
-Author: Frank Frankfort Moore
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-Illustrator: Various
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-Release Date: May 2, 2016 [EBook #51964]
-Last Updated: March 13, 2018
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-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GEORGIAN PAGEANT ***
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-
- <div style="height: 8em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h1>
- A GEORGIAN PAGEANT
- </h1>
- <h2>
- By Frank Frankfort Moore
- </h2>
- <h3>
- With Illustrations
- </h3>
- <h4>
- London: Hutchinson & Co. Paternoster Row
- </h4>
- <h3>
- 1908
- </h3>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0001.jpg" alt="0001 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0001.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0008.jpg" alt="0008 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0008.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0009.jpg" alt="0009 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0009.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p>
- <b>CONTENTS</b>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> THE WRITER'S APOLOGY </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> THE MONARCH OF THE PAGEANT </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> A COMEDY IN ST. MARTIN'S STREET </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> A TRAGEDY IN THE HAYMARKET </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> THE FATAL GIFT </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> THE FÊTE-CHAMPÊTRE </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> THE PLOT OF A LADY NOVELIST </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> TRAGEDY WITH A TWINKLE </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> THE BEST COMEDY OF THE CENTURY </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> THE JESSAMY BRIDE </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> THE AMAZING ELOPEMENT </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> THE AMAZING DUELS </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> A MELODRAMA AT COVENT GARDEN </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> THE COMEDY AT DOWNING STREET </a>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- THE WRITER'S APOLOGY
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE greater number
- of the papers in this series, dealing with some well-known persons and
- incidents of the latter half of the Eighteenth Century, are the practical
- result of a long conversation which the writer had with the late Professor
- J. Churton Collins upon a very memorable occasion. The writer ventured to
- contend that the existing views respecting the personality of Oliver
- Goldsmith, of Henry Thrale, of James Boswell, of Samuel Johnson, and of
- some others whom he named, were grossly erroneous; as were also the
- prevalent notions respecting such matters as Fanny Burney's attendance
- upon the Queen, the “romance” of the Gunnings, and the “elopement” of
- Richard Brinsley Sheridan with Elizabeth Linley. If Professor Churton
- Collins had not urged upon the writer the possible interest attaching to
- the expression of some opinions unbiassed by those conservators of the
- conventional who have dealt with the same period, every one of them being
- as careful as Indians on the warpath to tread in the footsteps of the man
- preceding him, he would not have the courage to set forth his views in the
- form they now assume.
- </p>
- <p>
- The non-controversial papers in the series may increase the light and
- shade in the sketches of this very humble Georgian Pageant. The romance of
- Lady Susan Fox-Strangways naturally took the shape of a “regulation”
- story. The details are absolutely correct.
- </p>
- <p>
- On the very day the writer meant to keep the promise he made to Professor
- Churton Collins, by sending him the completed proofs of this book, the
- melancholy news of his death was published—an irreparable loss to
- the Literature of English Criticism.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- THE MONARCH OF THE PAGEANT
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>n the morning of
- February 2nd, 1789, a lady was taking a solitary stroll in Kew Gardens.
- She was a small person, of dainty features, with a dimple on each side of
- her mouth that suggested a smile, varying, perhaps out of compliment to
- the variations of the people with whom she came in contact in her daily
- life, and shifting doubtless with the movements of the folk of her fancy
- through her quick brain, but remaining a smile all the time. There was
- about her a good deal of that doll-like primness which is so pretty an
- accompaniment of a person of small stature; but with this particular
- person it had—not quite, but almost—the additional charm of
- dignity. One could at all times see that she was making a highly
- intellectual attempt to be dignified; but that she was not really
- dignified at heart. One could see that she had too fine a sense of humour
- to be thoroughly dignified; and it may be that some of her closest
- observers—her closest observers were her greatest admirers—perceived
- now and again that she had a full sense of the humour of her efforts in
- the direction of dignity. She had large eyes, but being very
- short-sighted, she had a habit of half closing them when looking at
- anything or any one further away from her than ten feet. But somehow it
- was never suggested that the falling of her lids brought a frown to her
- face.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was a quick walker at all times; but on this winter day the slowest
- would have had little temptation to dawdle. The usual river mist was
- thrusting up a quivering cold hand among the gaunt trees of the water
- boundary of the Gardens, and here and there it flitted like a lean spectre
- among the clipped evergreens of the shrubberies. There was a maze of yew
- hedges, in the intricacies of which one mist-spectre had clearly got lost;
- and the lady, who had some imagination, could see, as she hurried past,
- the poor thing's wispy head and shoulders flitting about among the
- baffling central walks. (A defective eyesight is sometimes a good friend
- to the imagination.) And all the while she was hurrying along the broad
- track she was looking with some measure of uneasiness through her
- half-closed eyes down every tributary walk that ran into the main one, and
- peering uneasily down every long artificial vista that Sir Thomas
- Chambers, the Swedish knight and landscape gardener, had planned, through
- the well-regulated boskage, with an imitation Greek temple or Roman villa
- at the end. Approaching the widening entrance to each of these, she went
- cautiously for a few moments until she had assured herself on some point.
- Once she started and took a step backward, but raising the lorgnette which
- she carried, and satisfying herself that the group of men a hundred yards
- down one of the vistas was composed wholly of gardeners, she resumed her
- stroll.
- </p>
- <p>
- Whatever slight apprehension may have been on her mind had vanished by the
- time she had half completed the circuit made by the main walk. She had
- reached one of the mounds which at that time were covered with
- rhododendrons, and paused for a moment to see if there was sign of a bud.
- A blackbird flew out from among the dense leafage, and she followed it
- with her eyes as well as she could while she walked on, crossing the
- narrow path that led to the seats on the mound. But at the moment of
- crossing she was startled out of her senses by the sound of a shout from
- some distance down this path—a loud shout followed by several others
- rather less imperative. She gave a little exclamation of terror, raising
- her muff to her face. Glancing in the direction whence the commotion was
- coming, she gave another cry, seeing a tall man rush toward her with
- outstretched arms—waving arms, frantically beckoning to her while he
- shouted:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Miss Burney! Miss Burney!”
- </p>
- <p>
- She waited no longer. She turned and fled along the broad walk, making for
- one of the many labyrinths not so very far away, and after her ran the
- man, still shouting and gesticulating. She could hear the sound of his
- feet and his voice behind her, as well as the cries of the other men who
- were endeavouring to keep pace with him. On they came, and there flashed
- through her active brain, in spite of the horrible apprehension which
- thrilled through every nerve in her body, as she doubled back upon the
- path which she had just traversed, the lines written by Dr. Goldsmith and
- often quoted by her friend Dr. Johnson:
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- A hare whom hounds and horns pursue,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Pants to the place from whence at first he flew.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- She realised, all too painfully, the feelings of the poor hare at that
- moment. She longed for a friendly earth to open up before her. They were
- behind her—those wild huntsmen, one hoarsely yelling to her she knew
- not what, the others, more shrill, shouting to her to stop.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was too frightened to think of obeying any of them. On she ran, and it
- seemed that she was increasing the distance between her and her panting
- pursuers, until one of them, having better wind, managed to shoot ahead of
- the others, and to get close enough to say in a voice that was not all
- gasps:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam, madam, the doctor begs you to stop!” She glanced over her
- shoulder, still flying.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, I cannot—I dare not!” she gasped.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam, you must—you must: it hurts the King to run!” cried the man.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then she stopped. The man, an ordinary attendant, stood in front of her.
- He was more breathless than Miss Burney.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The doctor, madam,” he faltered, “'twas the doctor—he thought at
- first that His Majesty was—was—but that was at first—now
- he says you must please not lead His Majesty on—'tis all too much
- for him. Save us! How you did go, madam! Who would ha' thought it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- She was paying no attention to him. Her eyes were fixed upon the group of
- men who were recovering their breath while they walked slowly toward her.
- The King was between his two physicians—not Physicians in Ordinary;
- just the contrary—the two physicians who had been summoned from
- Lincolnshire by some person in authority who possessed intelligence—it
- should surely be easy to identify such a man at the Court of George III—when,
- some months earlier, His Majesty gave signs of losing his mental balance.
- They were the Willises, father and son, the former a clergyman, who was
- therefore all the more fully qualified to deal with a mind diseased—such
- a case as was defined as needing more the divine than the physician. The
- King was between the father and his son, but neither of them was
- exercising any ostentatious or officious restraint upon him. One of them
- was smiling while he said some reassuring words to the Royal patient; the
- other was endeavouring to reassure little Miss Burney from a distance.
- </p>
- <p>
- And it seemed that the intentions of both were realised, for His Majesty
- was smiling as benignly as was ever his wont, and little Miss Burney took
- her courage in both hands and boldly advanced to meet her Sovereign. (She
- had been for three years the Queen's “Dresser.”) But when they met, after
- the King had cried, “Why did you run away from me, Miss Burney?” it
- appeared that the process of reassuring the King had been but too
- effectually accomplished, for before the lady could frame a diplomatic
- reply to his inquiry, he had enwound her in his paternal arms and kissed
- her heartily on the cheek, greatly to her confusion and (she pretends) to
- her horror. The two doctors stood placidly by. They, poor things, being
- quite unaccustomed to the ways of the immediate entourage of the Court of
- George III—though they had doubtless heard something of the
- practices that prevailed at the Courts of His Majesty's lamented
- grandfather and great-grandfather—seemed under the impression that
- there was nothing unusual in this form of salutation. For all they knew it
- might be regarded as <i>de rigueur</i> between a monarch and the ladies of
- his consort's retinue. Even Dr. Willis, the divine, took a tolerant view
- of the transaction. He, as Miss Burney afterwards recorded, actually
- looked pleased!
- </p>
- <p>
- But, of course, the prim little lady herself was overwhelmed—yes, at
- first; but soon her good sense came to her rescue. She seems to have come
- with extraordinary rapidity to the conclusion that the King was not so mad
- as she had believed him to be. Her train of reasoning was instinctive, and
- therefore correct: the King had put his arms about her and kissed her when
- he had the chance, therefore he could not be so mad after all.
- </p>
- <p>
- In truth, however, Fanny Burney took the view of her treatment that any
- sensible modest young woman would take of it. She knew that the King, who
- had been separated for several months from the people whom he had been
- daily in the habit of meeting, had shown in the most natural way possible
- his delight at coming once more in contact with one of them.
- </p>
- <p>
- And undoubtedly the homely old gentleman was delighted beyond measure to
- meet with some one belonging to his happy years—a pleasanter face
- than that of Mrs. Schwellenberg, the dreadful creature who had made Fanny
- Burney's life miserable. It is not conceivable that the King would have
- kissed Mrs. Schwellenberg if he had come upon her suddenly as he had upon
- Miss Burney. People prefer silver rather than iron links with a happy
- past. He was so overjoyed, that the divine and the physician in attendance
- soon became anxious. They could not know much of all that he talked about
- to Miss Burney. They were in the position of strangers suddenly introduced
- to a family circle, and understanding nothing of the little homely secrets—homely
- topics upon which all the members of the circle have laughed together for
- years.
- </p>
- <p>
- They possibly could not see much sense in his long and rambling chat—it
- must have been largely in monologue—but they must have observed the
- face of the lady who was listening to him, and known from the expression
- which it wore that their patient was making himself intelligible. Only now
- and again they thought it prudent to check his exuberance. They must have
- been the most intelligent of men; and their names deserve to stand high in
- the annals of their country. At a time when the scientific treatment of
- the insane had not even begun to be formulated—when to be mentally
- afflicted meant to be on a level with felons and to be subjected to such
- repressive treatment as was afforded by the iron of the fetters and the
- hiss of the whipcord—at a time when a lust for office could make a
- statesman like Burke (a statesman who caused multitudes to weep in
- sympathy with his harangue on the sufferings of Marie Antoinette) refer to
- the King as having been “hurled by the Almighty from his throne” (in order
- to give the Opposition a chance of jumping into place and power over his
- prostrate body)—at such a time as this Dr. Willis and his two sons
- undertook the treatment of the King, and in the face of much opposition
- from the place-hunters in the Prince of Wales's pack, succeeded in
- restoring their patient to the palace which his happy nature had
- transformed into a home for every one dwelling under its roof.
- </p>
- <p>
- They stood by for some time after the King had greeted Miss Burney; and
- when he began to speak to her of topics that had a purely domestic ring
- they showed their good taste, as well as their knowledge of the
- peculiarities of their “case,” by moving away to a little distance,
- signalling to their attendants to do the same. Their discrimination must
- have been highly appreciated by the King. The poor restless mind had long
- wanted such a good long talk with a sympathetic listener, who, he knew,
- could understand every allusion that he might make to the past. He yearned
- to talk and to hear of such things as some one living in a distant land
- looks forward to finding in a letter from home. The <i>res angusta domi</i>—that
- was what he was hungering for—the trivial things in which he
- delighted—the confidences on simple matters—the sly everyday
- jests, never acutely pointed even to the family circle, but absolutely
- pointless to every one outside, yet sounding so delightfully witty when
- repeated as a sign of a happy intimacy of the past!
- </p>
- <p>
- Little Miss Burney had never imagined a scene like that in which she
- played an insignificant part at the moment, but one of enormous importance
- for posterity. She had, a few years before, been placed upon the porphyry
- pedestal which is reserved in England for the greatest woman writer of the
- generation. Seated there quite complacently, without reflecting upon the
- possibility of her pedestal becoming a trifle rickety, she had clasped her
- novel <i>Evelina</i> to her bosom, and received, without her head being in
- the least turned, the adulation—respectful in some cases, almost
- passionate in others—of the most notable men and women in the most
- intellectual and artistic society in England. Dr. Samuel Johnson, who was
- not disposed to overrate the merits of any writer whom the world had
- praised, was kissing her hands, and Richard Brinsley Sheridan was kissing
- her feet; Sir Joshua Reynolds was kissing the hem of her garments; while
- Edmund Burke was weaving a tinsel crown of rhetoric for her shapely head;
- but there were others equally great at that time who seemed to think that
- only a nimbus could give the appropriate finish to the little personage on
- the pedestal. The marvellous story of her success has been often told. It
- is more easily told than understood in the present day, the fact being
- that fashion in fiction is the most ephemeral of all human caprices, and
- Fanny Burney was essentially a fashion. She followed up the marvellous
- success of <i>Evelina</i>, after an interval of four years, with the
- natural success of <i>Cecilia</i>, and, after another four years, she
- retired from the brilliant world into the obscurity of the palace—the
- palace wardrobe. She had visited Mrs. Delany, and had been introduced (not
- presented) to the King and Queen, and the office of Queen's Dresser—Keeper
- of the Robes was the stately designation of a very humble service—becoming
- vacant, it was offered to Fanny Burney and accepted by her, acting on the
- advice of her father, who most certainly hoped that his own interests as a
- musician, fully qualified to become leader of the Royal Band, would be
- materially advanced when his daughter should become one of the Household.
- </p>
- <p>
- Reams of indignation have been published from time to time in respect of
- Dr. Burney's conduct in urging on his one brilliant daughter—the
- others were not brilliant, only mothers—to accept a post the duties
- of which could be discharged by any lady's maid with far more advantage to
- the Royal Consort than could possibly result from the ministrations of
- Fanny Burney. The world has been called on to bemoan the prudent
- indiscretion of the father, who did not hesitate to fling his gifted
- daughter's pen out of the window, so to speak, and thereby deprive the
- waiting world of some such masterpiece as <i>Camilla</i>—the novel
- which she published five years after her release from the burden of the
- Robes. There can be no doubt that the feeling which prevailed among the
- circle of the elect—the Reynoldses, the Burkes, and even the frigid
- Walpole—when it became known that Miss Burney's health was breaking
- down under the strain of her duties at the Court—she had about two
- hours' daily attendance of the most ordinary nature upon the Queen—was
- on the border of indignation. Every one affirmed that it was a disgrace
- for so lively a genius to be kept at the duties of a lady's maid. It was
- like turning the winner of the Oaks out to the plough. Edmund Burke,
- recalling his early approbation of the intentions of Dr. Burney in regard
- to his daughter, declared that he had never made so great a mistake in all
- his life; and we know that he made a few. These excellent people had no
- reason to speak otherwise than they did on this matter. All they knew was
- that the pen of the novelist who had given them so much pleasure had been
- (as they believed) idle for nearly nine years, five of which had been
- passed at the Court. That reflection was quite enough to rouse their
- indignation. But what can one say of the indignation on this point of a
- writer who actually made the fact of his being engaged on a review of the
- Diary of Fanny Burney—the incomparable Diary which she kept during
- her five years at Court—an excuse for turning the vials of his wrath
- upon her father, whose obstinacy gave her a chance of writing the most
- interesting chapter—the most accurate chapter—of History that
- was ever penned by man or woman?
- </p>
- <p>
- Macaulay wrote in all the fullness of his knowledge of what Fanny Burney
- had written. He knew that for four years after she had published <i>Cecilia</i>
- her pen had been idle so far as fiction was concerned. He knew that for
- five years after her release from the thraldom of the Queen's closet she
- had published nothing; he himself felt it to be his duty to point out the
- comparative worthlessness of <i>Camilla</i>, the novel which she then gave
- to the world, not because she felt upon her the impulse of a woman of
- genius, but simply because she found herself in great need of some ready
- money. Macaulay does not disdain to go into the money question, showing
- (he fancies) how Dr. Burney had by his obstinacy deprived his gifted
- daughter of earning the large sum which she would assuredly have obtained
- by the writing of a novel in the time that she was compelled to devote to
- the Queen's <i>toilette</i>. He found it convenient to ignore the fact
- that of the fourteen years that elapsed between the publication of <i>Cecilia</i>
- and that of <i>Camilla</i> only five were spent at Court. Surely any born
- novelist could, without running a chance of imperilling a well-earned
- reputation by undue haste in the dialogue or by scamping the descriptive
- passages, contrive by dint of hard, but not over-hard, work to produce
- more than one complete romance within a space of nine years. Many ladies
- who are not born novelists have succeeded in surpassing this task without
- physical suffering.
- </p>
- <p>
- But even assuming that the author of <i>Evelina, Cecilia, and Camilla</i>
- lost not only time but money while she was at Court, how much money did
- she lose? She received at least the equivalent of £2000 for her five
- years' service, and she was granted a pension of £100 a year, which she
- drew for forty-nine years; so that for her enforced seclusion she was
- remunerated to the extent of close upon £7000! This sum represents more
- than all Fanny Burney's literary works yielded to her from the joyous
- youthful days of <i>Evelina</i> down to the somewhat sordid middle age of
- <i>Camilla</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- But what has the world gained by the lamentable short-sightedness
- attributed to Dr. Burney? How is one to estimate the value of that
- incomparable Diary so admirably “written up” during her tedious five years
- at Court? How many <i>Cecilias</i>, how many <i>Camillas</i> would one not
- give in exchange for a single year of that part of the Diary which deals
- with the approach of the King's malady? In no work of fiction that ever
- came from her pen did she ever show such power of observation, not only of
- incident, but of character as well; nor is there apparent on any page
- produced by her imagination such perfect artistic effects as appeal to a
- reader on every page of this Diary of a disease.
- </p>
- <p>
- At the outset of her account of these dreadful days we are conscious of
- the vague approach of a shadow—we feel as if we were led into the
- darkened chamber of a haunted house. Our attendant pauses by our side,
- listening for strange noises; she lays a hand upon our arm, as it were,
- and speaks to us in a whisper. We feel that the dread Thing is coming. The
- King is indisposed—he has not been quite in his usual health for
- some time past; but of course nothing very alarming has been announced by
- Sir George Barker, the Physician in Ordinary, although there is an
- uncertainty as to His Majesty's complaint. But Miss Burney has seen the
- faces of the people about her who have come more closely in contact with
- the Sovereign; she has doubtless noticed the solemnity of some—the
- airs of mystery, the head-shakings, and she is capable of drawing her own
- conclusions. “Heaven preserve him!” she whispers in her Diary for October
- 19th, 1788. She is very much with the Queen, and she perceives that Her
- Majesty is extremely uneasy, though saying nothing. There is great alarm
- during the night. Possibly some one has heard the delirious voice of the
- King coming from his apartments in that tumbledown palace of his at Kew.
- The fright is general, and every one is wondering what the morning will
- bring forth. Hope comes with the light. The bulletin is that the King was
- ill, but is now so very much better that his physician believes the move
- to Windsor, to which the Court was looking forward, may be taken. The move
- is made on the 25th, and then Miss Burney has a chance meeting with the
- King that causes her to suspect the truth. He talks to her with unnatural
- vehemence—unnatural volubility—and without cessation for a
- long time; all is exaggerated, and his graciousness most of all. She has
- never met with anything like this before, but having heard of the delirium
- accompanying a high fever, she believes that His Majesty is in the throes
- of a fever.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next day is Sunday, and she meets him again in one of the passages,
- and she finds him rather more coherent in his talk, but still it is the
- talk of a man in the delirium of a fever. It is all about himself—his
- health—his dreadful sleeplessness. He keeps at it for half an hour
- without making the slightest pause; and yet he manages to convey to her an
- impression of his benevolence—his consideration for the people
- around him—his hopes that he may not cause them any uneasiness. When
- he leaves her she doubtless tells of the meeting to some of her friends in
- the apartments where the equerries are accustomed to meet, and doubtless
- there are more head-shakings and airs of mystery; but she records: “Nobody
- speaks of his illness, nor what they think of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Apparently, too, no one felt it to be necessary to subject His Majesty to
- any course of treatment, although, a few days later, he became so weak
- that he, who at the beginning of the year thought nothing of walking
- twelve miles at a stretch—more than his sons could do—hobbled
- along like a gouty man. Gradually, very gradually, the horror approaches;
- and nothing that has ever been done in fiction equals in effect the simple
- record of all that Fanny Burney noticed from day to day. Most touching of
- all her entries are those relating to the Queen. “The Queen,” she writes,
- “is almost overpowered with some secret terror. I am affected beyond all
- expression in her presence to see what struggles she makes to support her
- serenity. To-day she gave up the conflict when I was alone with her; and
- burst into a violent fit of tears. It was very, very terrible to see!...
- something horrible seemed impending... I was still wholly unsuspicious of
- the greatness of the cause she had for dread. Illness, a breaking up of
- the constitution, the payment of sudden infirmity and premature old age
- for the waste of unguarded health and strength—these seemed to me
- the threats awaiting her; and great and grievous enough, yet how short of
- the fact!”...
- </p>
- <p>
- At last the terrible truth was revealed. Miss Burney was dining with one
- of the Queen's ladies; but there was little conversation between them. It
- was clear that both had their suspicions of the nature of the dread shadow
- that was hovering over the castle. They remained together, waiting for the
- worst. “A stillness the most uncommon reigned over the whole house. Nobody
- stirred; not a voice was heard; not a motion. I could do nothing but
- watch, without knowing for what; there seemed a strangeness in the house
- most extraordinary.”
- </p>
- <p>
- To talk of such passages as these as examples of literary art would be
- ridiculous. They are transcripts from life itself made by some one with a
- genius for observation, not merely for recording. Boswell had a genius for
- recording; but his powers of observation were on a level with those of a
- sheep. We know perfectly well what his treatment of the scenes leading up
- to the tragedy of the King would have been. But Fanny Burney had the
- artist's instinct for collecting only such incidents as heighten the
- effect.
- </p>
- <p>
- When she is still sitting in the dim silence of that November evening with
- her friend some one enters to whisper that there was to be no playing of
- the after-dinner music in which the King usually took so much pleasure.
- Later on the equerries come slowly into the room. There is more whispering—more
- head-shaking. What was it all about? Had anything happened? What had
- happened? No one wishes to be the first to speak. But the suspense! The
- strain upon the nerves of the two ladies! At last it can be borne no
- longer. The dreadful revelation is made. The King is a madman!
- </p>
- <p>
- At dinner, the Prince of Wales being present, His Majesty had “broken
- forth into positive delirium, which long had been menacing all who saw him
- most closely; and the Queen was so overpowered as to fall into violent
- hysterics. All the princesses were in misery, and the Prince of Wales had
- burst into tears. No one knew what was to follow—no one could
- conjecture the event.” Nothing could be more pathetic than the concern of
- the King for his wife. His delusion is that she is the sufferer. When
- Fanny Burney went to her room, where she was accustomed to await her
- nightly summons to attend Her Majesty, she remained there alone for two
- hours. At midnight she can stand the suspense no longer. She opens the
- door and listens in the passage. Not a sound is to be heard. Not even a
- servant crossed the stairs on the corridor off which her apartment opened.
- After another hour's suspense a page knocks at her door with the message
- that she is to go at once to her Royal mistress.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My poor Royal Mistress!” she writes. “Never can I forget her countenance—pale,
- ghastly pale she looked... her whole frame was disordered, yet she was
- still and quiet. And the poor King is dreadfully uneasy about her. Nothing
- was the matter with himself, he affirmed, except nervousness on her
- account. He insisted on having a bed made up for himself in her
- dressing-room in order that he might be at hand should she become worse
- through the night. He had given orders that Miss Goldsworthy was to remain
- with her; but it seemed that he had no great confidence in the vigilance
- of any one but himself, for some hours after the Queen had retired he
- appeared before the eyes of the horrified lady-in-waiting, at the door,
- bearing a lighted candle. He opened the bed curtains and satisfied himself
- that his dread of her being carried out of the palace was unfounded; but
- he did not leave the room for another half-hour, and the terror of the
- scene completely overwhelmed the unhappy lady.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Truly when this terror was walking by night Fanny Burney's stipend was
- well earned. But worse was in store for her when it was decided that the
- King should be removed to Kew Palace, which he detested and which was
- certainly the most miserable of all the miserable dwelling-places of the
- Royal Family. It seemed to be nobody's business to make any preparation
- for the reception of the Queen and her entourage. The rooms were dirty and
- unwarmed, and the corridors were freezing. And to the horrors of this
- damp, unsavoury barrack was added Mrs. Schwellenberg, the German
- she-dragon who had done her best to make Fanny Burney's life unendurable
- during the previous three years. Formerly Fanny had dwelt upon the
- ill-treatment she had received at the hands of this old harridan; but now
- she only refers to her as an additional element of casual discomfort. The
- odious creature is “so oppressed between her spasms and the house's
- horrors, that the oppression she inflicted ought perhaps to be pardoned.
- It was, however, difficult enough to bear,” she adds. “Harshness, tyranny,
- dissension, and even insult seemed personified. I cut short details upon
- this subject—they would but make you sick.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Truly little Miss Burney earned her wages at this time. The dilapidated
- palace was only rendered habitable by the importation of a cartload of
- sandbags, which were as strategically distributed for the exclusion of the
- draughts as if they were the usual defensive supply of a siege. But even
- this ingenious device failed to neutralise the Arctic rigours of the
- place. The providing of carpets for some of the bare floors of the
- bedrooms and passages was a startling innovation; but eventually it was
- carried out. An occasional set of curtains also was smuggled into this
- frozen fairy palace, and a sofa came now and again.
- </p>
- <p>
- But in spite of all these auxiliaries to luxury—in spite, too, of
- Mrs. Schwellenberg's having locked herself into her room, forbidding any
- one to disturb her—the dreariness and desolation of the December at
- Kew must have caused Miss Burney to think with longing of the comforts of
- her father's home in St. Martin's Street and of the congenial atmosphere
- which she breathed during her numerous visits to the Thrales' solid
- mansion at Streatham.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0035.jpg" alt="0035 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0035.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- The condition of the King was becoming worse, and early whispers of the
- necessity for a Regency grew louder. It was understood that Mrs.
- Fitzherbert would be made a duchess! Everybody outside the palace sought
- to stand well in the estimation of the Prince of Wales, and Pitt was
- pointed out as a traitor to his country because he did his best to
- postpone the Comus orgy which every one knew would follow the establishing
- of a Regency. The appointment of the Doctors Willis was actually referred
- to as a shocking impiety, suggesting as it did a wicked rebellion against
- the decree of the Almighty, Who, according to Burke, had hurled the
- monarch from his throne. There were, however, some who did not regard Mr.
- Burke as an infallible judge on such a point, and no one was more
- indignant at the mouthings of the rhetorician than Miss Burney. But it
- seemed as if the approach of the Regency could no longer be retarded. The
- Willises were unable to certify to any improvement in the condition of the
- King during the month of January, 1789. It was really not until he had
- that chase after Fanny Burney in Kew Gardens that a change for the better
- came about.
- </p>
- <p>
- Though she was greatly terrified by his affectionate salutation, she could
- not but have been surprised at the sanity displayed in the monologue that
- followed; for one of the first of his innumerable questions revealed to
- her the fact that he was perfectly well aware of what a trial to her
- patience was the odious Mrs. Schwellenberg. He asked how she was getting
- on with Mrs. Schwellenberg, and he did so with a laugh that showed her how
- well he appreciated her difficulties in this direction in the past. Before
- she could say a word he was making light of the Schwellenberg—adopting
- exactly the strain that he knew would be most effective with Miss Burney.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never mind her—never mind her! Don't be oppressed! I am your
- friend! Don't let her cast you down—I know that you have a hard time
- of it—but don't mind her!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The advice and the tone in which it was given—with a pleasant laugh—did
- not seem very consistent with what she expected from a madman. Fanny
- Burney appears up to that moment to have been under the impression that
- the King and Queen had known nothing of the tyranny and the insults to
- which she had been subjected by Mrs. Schwellenberg. But now it was made
- plain to her that the eyes of the Royal couple had been open all the time.
- If Macaulay had noticed the passage touching upon this point he would have
- had still stronger grounds for his attack upon their Majesties for their
- want of consideration for the tire-woman who was supposed never to be
- tired.
- </p>
- <p>
- But how much more surprised must Fanny Burney have been when the King went
- on to talk to her in the most cordially confidential way about her father!
- It must have been another revelation to her when he showed how fully he
- realised the ambitions of Dr. Burney. He asked her regarding the progress
- of the <i>History of Music</i>, at which Dr. Burney had been engaged for
- several years, and this gave him a chance of getting upon his favourite
- topic, the music of Handel. But when he began to illustrate some of his
- impressions on this fruitful theme by singing over the choruses of an
- oratorio or two—perhaps such trifles as “All we like Sheep,” or
- “Lift up your Heads,” or the “Hallelujah”—he must have gone far
- toward neutralising the good opinion she had formed as to his sanity.
- Fortunately the attendant doctors interposed at this point; but the fact
- that the distinguished amateur suffered their adverse criticism proves to
- posterity that the King was even more good-natured than he had been
- painted by Miss Burney.
- </p>
- <p>
- On then he went to talk of the subject which must never have been far from
- Dr. Burney's heart—the Mastership of the King's Band: “Your father
- ought to have had the post, and not that little poor musician Parsons, who
- was not fit for it,” he cried. “But Lord Salisbury used your father very
- ill in that business, and so he did me! However, I have dashed out his
- name, and I shall put your father's in—as soon as I get loose again.
- What has your father got at last? Nothing but that poor thing at Chelsea!
- Oh, fie! fie! But never mind! I will take care of him—I will do it
- myself!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Could he have given the devoted daughter of Dr. Burney a more emphatic
- proof of his complete recovery to sanity than this? Why, it would have
- convinced Dr. Burney himself!
- </p>
- <p>
- Alas! although the King may have been very resolute at the moment—he
- had just been making out a list of new officers of State, and was ready to
- show her that the name of her father's enemy, Lord Salisbury, was not to
- be found in it, and he assured her that in future he would rule with a rod
- of iron—yet before he returned to his ordinary way of life he must
- have mislaid his list, for poor Dr. Burney remained at his post of
- organist of Chelsea Hospital. He never attained to the place which he
- coveted and for which his daughter was sent to five years' Royal
- servitude, and (incidentally) to achieve for herself that immortality as a
- chronicler which would certainly never have been won by her as a novelist.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the King did not confine his conversation to the one topic which he
- knew was of greatest interest to her. He spoke of Mrs. Delany, who had
- been the means of introducing Fanny to the Royal circle; and he referred
- to the ill-treatment which he had received at the hands of one of his
- pages; but this was the only passage that savoured of unkindness, and the
- chronicler is unable to do more than hope that the conduct of the pages
- was one of His Majesty's delusions. Then, with what seems to us to be
- consummate adroitness, he put some questions to her which she could not
- but answer. “They referred to information given to him in his illness from
- various motives, but which he suspected to be false, and which I knew he
- had reason to suspect,” Miss Burney writes. “Yet was it most dangerous to
- set anything right, as I was not aware what might be the views of their
- having been stated wrong. I was as discreet as I knew how to be, and I
- hope I did no mischief: but this was the worst part of the dialogue.”
- </p>
- <p>
- We can quite believe that it was, and considering that it was the part of
- the dialogue which was most interesting to the King, we think that Miss
- Burney was to be congratulated upon the tact she displayed in her answers.
- She did not cause the King to be more perturbed than he was when waxing
- indignant over the conduct of his pages; and there was no need for Dr.
- Willis to interfere at this point, though he did a little later on. Then
- submitting with the utmost docility to the control of his excellent
- attendant, and with another exhortation not to pay any attention to the
- whims of the Schwellenberg, the gracious gentleman kissed her once more on
- the cheek and allowed her to take her departure.
- </p>
- <p>
- So ended this remarkable adventure in Kew Gardens. One can picture Fanny
- Burney flying to tell the Queen all that had occurred—to repeat
- everything that her discretion permitted her of the conversation; and one
- has no difficulty in imagining the effect upon Queen Charlotte of all that
- she narrated; but it seems rather hard that from Mrs. Schwellenberg should
- have been withheld the excellent advice given by the King to Miss Burney
- respecting the German virago.
- </p>
- <p>
- It would have been impossible either for Fanny Burney or the Queen to come
- to any conclusion from all that happened except one that was entirely
- satisfactory to both. King George III was undoubtedly on the high road to
- recovery, and subsequent events confirmed this opinion. It really seemed
- that the interview with the author of <i>Evelina</i> marked the
- turning-point in his malady at this time. Every day brought its record of
- improvement, and within a fortnight the dreaded Regency Bill, which had
- been sent up to the Lords, was abandoned. On March 1st there were public
- thanksgivings in all the churches, followed by such an illumination of
- London as had not been seen since the great fire. The scene at Kew is
- admirably described by Miss Burney, who had written some congratulatory
- lines to be offered by the Princess Amelia to the King. A great
- “transparency” had been painted by the Queen's order, representing the
- King, Providence, Health, and Britannia—a truly British tableau—and
- when this was hung out and illuminated the little Princess “went to lead
- her papa to the front window.” Then she dropped on her knees and gave him
- the “copy of verses,” with the postscript:
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- The little bearer begs a kiss
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- From dear papa for bringing this.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- The “dear papa” took his dear child in his arms, and held her close to him
- for some time. Nothing could have been more charmingly natural and
- affecting. For such a picture of Royalty at home we are indebted to Fanny
- Burney, and, face to face with it, we are selfish enough to feel grateful
- to Dr. Burney for having given his daughter for five years to discharge a
- humble duty to her Sovereign and an immortal one to her fellow-countrymen,
- who have read her Diary and placed it on a shelf between Pepys and de
- Gramont.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- A COMEDY IN ST. MARTIN'S STREET
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>R BURNEY was
- giving a “command” party at his house in St. Martin's Street, Leicester
- Fields—the house which Sir Isaac Newton did once inhabit, and which
- was still crowned with the most celebrated observatory in Europe. In the
- early years of his musical career he had had a patron, Mr. Fulk Greville,
- who had done a great deal for him, and in later days he had never quite
- forgotten this fact, although Dr. Burney had climbed high on the
- professional as well as the social ladder, and was better known in the
- world than Mr. Greville himself. He had become quite intimate with many
- great persons and several curious ones. It is uncertain whether Mr.
- Greville regarded Dr. Johnson as belonging to the former or the latter
- class, but at any rate he had heard a great deal about Dr. Johnson, and
- did not think that, provided he took every reasonable precaution, any harm
- could come to himself from meeting such a notability. He accordingly
- instructed Dr. Burney to bring him and Johnson together, and Burney
- promised to do so. Before the day for this meeting was fixed Mrs. Greville—who,
- by the way, was Fanny Burney's godmother—had signified her intention
- of viewing the huge person also, and of bringing her daughter, the
- exquisite Mrs. Crewe, to attend the promised exhibition of genius in bulk.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course Dr. Johnson was ready to lend himself to any plan that might be
- devised to increase the circumference of his circle of admirers, and
- besides, this Mr. Fulk Greville was a descendant of the friend of Sir
- Philip Sidney, and had large possessions, as well as a magnificent country
- seat, and altogether he would make a most desirable listener; so he agreed
- to come to the party to be inspected by the Greville family. Burney,
- however, wishing, as every responsible proprietor of a menagerie should
- wish, to be on the safe side and exhibit his bear under the eye and the
- controlling influence of his favourite keeper, invited Mr. and Mrs. Thrale
- to the party.
- </p>
- <p>
- These were to be the “principals” in the comedy of this entertainment; and
- for the subordinates he selected his married daughter and her husband—both
- admirable musicians—Mr. Davenant, Mr. Seward, and a certain Italian
- musician, a vocalist as well as a performer on the violin and that new
- instrument which was at first called the fortepiano, then the pianoforte,
- and later on simply the piano. This person's name was Gabrielli Piozzi.
- </p>
- <p>
- Such were the harmonious elements which Dr. Burney proposed to bring
- together for the gratification of Mr. Fulk Greville and his wife. Mr.
- Greville was an amateur of some little capacity, and he had certainly at
- one time been greatly interested in music. He had paid £300 to Burney's
- master, the celebrated Dr. Arne, who composed in the masque of “Alfred”
- the rousing anthem known as “Rule Britannia,” for the cancelling of
- Burney's indentures as an apprentice to the “art of musick,” and had taken
- the young man into his own house in a capacity which may best be described
- as that of entertaining secretary. Dr. Burney may therefore have thought
- in his wisdom that, should Johnson be in one of his bearish moods and feel
- disinclined to exhibit his parts of speech to Mr. Greville, the latter
- would be certain of entertainment from the musicians. This showed
- forethought and a good working knowledge of Dr. Johnson. But in spite of
- the second string to the musician's bow the party was a fiasco—that
- is, from the standpoint of a social entertainment; it included one
- incident, however, which made it the most notable of the many of the
- Burney parties of which a record remains.
- </p>
- <p>
- And what records there are available to any one interested in the
- entertainments given by Dr. Burney and his charming family at that modest
- house of theirs, just round the corner from Sir Joshua Reynolds' larger
- establishment in Leicester Fields! Hundreds of people who contributed to
- make the second half of the eighteenth century the most notable of any
- period so far as literature and the arts were concerned, since the
- spacious days of Elizabeth, were accustomed to meet together informally at
- this house, and to have their visits recorded for all ages to muse upon.
- To that house came Garrick, not to exhibit his brilliance as a talker
- before a crowd of admirers, but to entertain the children of the household
- with the buffooning that never flagged, and that never fell short of
- genius in any exhibition. He was the delight of the schoolroom. Edmund
- Burke and his brother, both fond of conversation when oratory was not
- available, were frequently here; Reynolds came with many of his sitters,
- and found fresh faces for his canvas among his fellow-guests; and with him
- came his maiden sister, feeling herself more at home with the simple
- Burney circle than she ever did with the company who assembled almost
- daily under her brother's roof. Nollekens, the sculptor; Colman, the
- dramatist and theatre manager, who was obliged to run away from London to
- escape the gibes which were flung at him from every quarter when
- Goldsmith's <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i>, which he had done his best to
- make a failure, became the greatest success of the year; Cumberland, the
- embittered rival of Goldsmith, who was the person who gave the solitary
- hiss during the first performance of the same play, causing the timid
- author to say to the manager on entering the playhouse, “What is that, sir—pray,
- what is that? Is it a hiss?” To which Colman replied, “Psha! sir, what
- signifies a squib when we have been sitting on a barrel of gunpowder all
- night?”
- </p>
- <p>
- These were among the notabilities; and the “curiosities” were quite as
- numerous. The earliest of Arctic voyagers, Sir Constantine Phipps, who
- later became Lord Mulgrave, put in an appearance at more than one of the
- parties; and so did Omai, the “gentle savage” of the poet Cowper, who was
- brought by Captain Cook from the South Seas in the ship on which young
- Burney was an officer. The sisters, who, of course, idolised the sailor,
- sat open-mouthed with wonder to hear their brother chatting away to Omai
- in his native language. Upon another occasion came Bruce, the Abyssinian
- traveller, who told the story of how steaks were cut from the live ox when
- needed by the inhabitants of one region. He was immensely tall, as were
- some of his stories; but though extremely dignified, he did not object to
- a practical joke. Another person of great stature who visited the Burneys
- was the notorious Count Orloff, the favourite of the Empress Catherine of
- Russia; and from the letters of one of the young people of the household
- one has no difficulty in perceiving with what interest he was regarded by
- the girls, especially since the report reached them that he had personally
- strangled his imperial master at the instigation of his imperial mistress.
- </p>
- <p>
- These are but, a few names out of the many on the Burneys' visiting list.
- Of course, as regards musical artists, the house was the rendezvous of the
- greatest in London. While the opera-house in the Haymarket was open there
- was a constant flow of brilliant vocalists to these shores, and the young
- people had many opportunities of becoming acquainted with the ignorance,
- the capriciousness, the affectations, and the abilities which were to be
- found associated with the lyric stage in the eighteenth century, as they
- are in the twentieth. Among the prime donne who sang for the Burneys were
- the Agujari—a marvellous performer, who got fifty pounds for every
- song she sang at the Pantheon—and her great but uncertain rival,
- Gabrielli. The former, according to Mozart, who may possibly be allowed to
- be something of a judge, had a vocal range which was certainly never
- equalled by any singer before or after his time. She won all hearts and a
- great deal of money during her visit to London, and she left with the
- reputation of being the most marvellous and most rapacious of Italians.
- Gabrielli seems to have tried to make up by capriciousness what she lacked
- in expression. Her voice was, so far as can be gathered from contemporary
- accounts, small and thin. But by judiciously disappointing the public she
- became the most widely talked of vocalist in the country. Then among the
- men were the simple and gracious Pacchierotti—who undoubtedly became
- attached to Fanny Burney—Rauzzini, and Piozzi.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0049.jpg" alt="0049 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0049.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- The Burneys' house was for years the centre of the highest intellectual
- entertainment to be found in London, and the tact of the head of the
- household, and the simple, natural manners of his daughters, usually
- succeeded in preventing the intrusion of a single inharmonious note, in
- spite of the fact that a Welsh harpist named Jones had once been among the
- visitors.
- </p>
- <p>
- But upon the occasion of this “command” party, when Greville was to meet
- Johnson, and the latter had dressed himself with that extreme care which
- we suspect meant that he tied up his hose, and put on a wig the front of
- which had not yet been burnt away by coming in contact with his lighted
- candle, Burney's tact overreached itself. Mr. Greville may have felt that
- the Thrales had no business to be of the party, or Johnson may have gained
- the impression that Burney's old patron was anxious to play the same part,
- in an honorary sort of way, in regard to himself. At any rate, he refused
- to be drawn out to exhibit his conversational powers to a supercilious
- visitor; and after a brief space of time he turned his back upon every one
- and his face to the fire, and there he sat, greatly to the discomfiture,
- no doubt, of his host. In a very short time a gloom settled down upon the
- whole party. Mr. Thrale, stiff and reserved, was not the man to pull
- things together. He sat mute on his chair, making no advance toward Mr.
- Greville, and Mr. Greville had probably his chin in the air, having come
- to the conclusion that Dr. Johnson's powers as a conversationalist had
- been greatly overrated by rumour.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was when all hope of sociability had vanished that Dr. Burney, who,
- when a church organist, may have had occasion to cover up the shortcomings
- of the clergyman by a timely voluntary, begged Signor Piozzi to oblige the
- company with a song. But Piozzi was a forlorn hope. He was the last man in
- the world to save the situation. Had he been a vocalist of the calibre of
- Pacchierotti he could have made no headway against the funereal gloom that
- had settled down upon the party.
- </p>
- <p>
- Piozzi had a sweet and highly trained voice, though some years earlier he
- had lost its best notes, and he sang with exquisite expression; but when
- playing his own accompaniment, with his back turned to his audience, he
- was prone to exaggerate the sentiment of the music until sentiment became
- lost in an exuberance of sentimentality.
- </p>
- <p>
- This style of singing is not that to which any one would resort in order
- to dissipate a sudden social gloom. As the singer went on the gloom
- deepened.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was just at this moment that one of those ironic little imps that lurk
- in wainscot nooks looking out for an opportunity to influence an
- unconscious human being to an act which the little demon, seeing the end
- of a scene of which mortals only see the beginning, regards with sardonic
- glee, whispered something in the ear of Mrs. Thrale, and in an instant, in
- obedience to its prompting, she had left her chair and stolen behind the
- singer at the piano. Raising her hands and turning up her eyes in
- imitation of Piozzi, she indulged in a piece of mimicry which must have
- shocked every one in the room except the singer, who had his back to her,
- and Dr. Johnson, who, besides being too short-sighted to be able to see
- her, was gazing into the grate.
- </p>
- <p>
- No doubt the flippant little lady felt that a touch of farcical fun was
- the very thing needed to make the party go with a snap; but such flagrant
- bad taste as was involved in the transaction was more than Dr. Burney
- could stand. Keeping his temper marvellously well in hand, considering his
- provocation, he went gently behind the gesticulating woman and put a stop
- to her fooling. Shaking his head, he whispered in a “half joke whole
- earnest” way:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because, madam, you have no ear yourself for music, will you destroy the
- attention of all who, in that one point, are otherwise gifted?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Or words to that effect, it might be safe to add, for the phrases as
- recorded in the diary of one of his daughters are a trifle too academic
- for even Dr. Burney to have whispered on the spur of the moment. But he
- certainly reproved the lady, and she took his remonstrance in good part,
- and showed herself to be admirably appreciative of the exact pose to
- assume in order to save the situation. She went demurely to her chair and
- sat there stiffly, and with the affectation of a schoolgirl who has been
- admonished for a fault and commanded to take a seat in silence and apart
- from the rest of the class. It must be apparent to every one that this was
- the precise attitude for her to strike in the circumstances, and that she
- was able to perceive this in a rather embarrassing moment shows that Mrs.
- Thrale was quite as clever as her friends made her out to be.
- </p>
- <p>
- But regarding the incident itself, surely the phrase, “the irony of fate,”
- was invented to describe it. A better illustration of the sport of
- circumstance could not be devised, for in the course of time the lively
- little lady, who had gone as far as any one could go in making a mock of
- another, had fallen as deep in love with the man whom she mocked as ever
- Juliet did with her Romeo. She found that she could not live without him,
- and, sacrificing friends, position, and fortune, she threw herself into
- his arms, and lived happy ever after.
- </p>
- <p>
- The conclusion of the first scene in this saturnine comedy which was being
- enacted in the drawing-room in that house in St. Martin's Street, was in
- perfect keeping with the <i>mise-en-scène</i> constructed by Fate, taking
- the rôle of Puck. It is admirably described in the diary of Charlotte
- Burney. She wrote that Mr. Greville—whom she nicknamed “Mr. Gruel”—assumed
- “his most supercilious air of distant superiority” and “planted himself
- immovable as a noble statue upon the hearth, as if a stranger to the whole
- set.”
- </p>
- <p>
- By this time Dr. Johnson must have had enough of the fire at which he had
- been sitting, and we at once see how utterly hopeless were the social
- relations at this miserable party when we hear that the men “were so kind
- and considerate as to divert themselves by making a fire-screen to the
- whole room.” But Dr. Johnson, having thoroughly warmed himself, was now in
- a position to administer a rebuke to the less fortunate ones, and, when
- nobody would have imagined that he had known the gentlemen were in the
- room, he said that “if he was not ashamed he would keep the fire from the
- ladies too.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “This reproof (for a reproof it certainly was, although given in a very
- comical, dry way) was productive,” Charlotte adds, “of a scene as good as
- a comedy, for Mr. Suard tumbled on to a sopha directly, Mr. Thrale on to a
- chair, Mr. Davenant sneaked off the premises, seemingly in as great a
- fright and as much confounded as if he had done any bad action, and Mr.
- Gruel being left solus, was obliged to stalk off.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A more perfect description of the “curtain” to the first act of this, “as
- good as a comedy,” could not be imagined. In every scene of this memorable
- evening the mocking figure of an impish Fate can be discerned. There was
- the tactful and urbane Dr. Burney anxious to gratify his old patron by
- presenting to him the great Dr. Johnson, and at the same time to show on
- what excellent terms he himself was with the family of the wealthy brewer,
- Mr. Thrale. Incidentally he has caused Johnson to put himself to the
- inconvenience of a clean shirt and a respectable wig; and, like a
- thoughtful general, lest any of his plans should fall short of fulfilment,
- he has invited an interesting vocalist to cover up the retreat and make
- failure almost impossible!
- </p>
- <p>
- Dr. Burney could do wonders by the aid of his tact and urbanity, but he is
- no match for Fate playing the part of Puck. Within an hour Johnson has
- disappointed him and become grumpy—the old bear has found the buns
- to be stale; Mr. Greville, the patron, is in a patronising mood, and
- becomes stiff and aloof because Johnson, secure with his pension, resents
- it; Mrs. Thrale, anxious to do her best for Burney, and at the same time
- to show Mrs. Greville and her fine daughter how thoroughly at home she is
- in the house and how delicate is her sense of humour, strikes an
- appallingly false note, and only saves herself by a touch of cleverness
- from appearing wholly ridiculous. This is pretty well for the opening
- scenes, but the closing catastrophe is not long delayed. The men huddle
- themselves together in stony silence; and they are reproved for
- impoliteness by—whom? Dr. Johnson, the man who has studied
- boorishness and advanced it to a place among the arts—the man who
- calls those who differ from him dolts and fools and rascals—the man
- whose manners at the dinner table are those of the sty and trough—the
- man who walks about the streets ungartered and unclean—this is the
- man who has the effrontery to rebuke for their rudeness such gentlemen as
- Mr. Fulk Greville, Mr. Seward, and Mr. Thrale! Puck can go no further.
- Down comes the curtain when one gentleman collapses upon a “sopha,”
- another into a chair, a third sneaks off like a culprit, and the fourth
- stalks off with an air of offended dignity!
- </p>
- <p>
- It might be thought that the imp of mischief who had assumed the control
- of this evening's entertainment would be satisfied at the result of his
- pranks so far. Nothing of the sort. He was only satisfied when he had made
- a match between the insignificant figure who was playing the musical
- accompaniment to his pranks and the lady who thought that his presence in
- the room was only justifiable on the ground that he made an excellent butt
- for her mockery!
- </p>
- <p>
- And the funniest part of the whole comedy is to be found in the fact that
- the pair lived happy ever after!
- </p>
- <p>
- The extraordinary influence which Boswell has had upon almost every
- student of the life of the latter half of the eighteenth century is shown
- in a marked way by the general acceptance of his view—which it is
- scarcely necessary to say was Johnson's view—of the second marriage
- of Mrs. Thrale. We are treating Boswell much more fairly than he treated
- Mrs. Thrale when we acknowledge at once that his opinion was shared by a
- considerable number of the lady's friends, including Dr. Burney and his
- family. They were all shocked when they heard that the widow of the
- Southwark brewer had married the Italian musician, Signor Gabrielli
- Piozzi. Even in the present day, when one might reasonably expect that,
- the miserable pettiness of Boswell's character having been made apparent,
- his judgment on most points would be received with a smile, he is taken
- very seriously by a good many people. It has long ago been made plain that
- Boswell was quite unscrupulous in his treatment of every one that crossed
- his path or made an attempt to interfere with the aim of his life, which
- was to become the biographer of Johnson. The instances of his petty
- malevolence which have come to light within recent years are innumerable.
- They show that the opinion which his contemporaries formed of him was
- absolutely correct. We know that he was regarded as a cur who was ever at
- Johnson's heels, and took the insults of the great man with a fawning
- complacency that was pathetically canine. He was daily called a cur. “Oh,
- no,” said Goldsmith, “he is not a cur, only a burr; Tom Davies flung him
- at Johnson one day as a joke, and he stuck to him ever since”—a cur,
- and an ape and a spy and a Branghton—the last by Dr. Johnson himself
- in the presence of a large company, that included the creator of the
- contemptible Mr. Branghton. (The incident was not, however, recorded by
- Mr. Boswell himself.) But as the extraordinary interest in his <i>Life of
- Johnson</i> began to be acknowledged, the force of contemporary opinion
- gradually dwindled away, until Boswell's verdicts and Boswell's inferences
- found general acceptance; and even now Goldsmith is regarded as an Irish
- <i>omadhaum</i>, because Boswell did his best to make him out to be one,
- and Mrs. Thrale is thought to have forfeited her claims to respect because
- she married Signor Piozzi.
- </p>
- <p>
- People forget the origin of Boswell's malevolence in both cases. He
- detested Goldsmith because Goldsmith was a great writer, who was capable
- of writing a great biography of Johnson, with whom he had been on the most
- intimate terms long before Tom Davies flung his burr at Johnson; he hated
- Baretti and recorded—at the sacrifice of Johnson's reputation for
- humanity—Johnson's cynical belittling of him, because he feared that
- Baretti would write <i>the</i> biography; he was spiteful in regard to
- Mrs. Thrale because she actually did write something biographical about
- Johnson.
- </p>
- <p>
- The impudence of such a man as Boswell writing about “honest Dr.
- Goldsmith” is only surpassed by his allusions to the second marriage of
- Mrs. Thrale. He was a fellow-guest with Johnson at the Thrales' house in
- 1775, and he records something of a conversation which he says occurred on
- the subject of a woman's marrying some one greatly beneath her socially.
- “When I recapitulate the debate,” he says, “and recollect what has since
- happened, I cannot but be struck in a manner that delicacy forbids me to
- express! While I contended that she ought to be treated with inflexible
- steadiness of displeasure, Mrs. Thrale was all for mildness and
- forgiveness and, according to the vulgar phrase, making the best of a bad
- bargain.” This was published after the second marriage. What would be
- thought of a modern biographer who should borrow a little of Boswell's
- “delicacy,” and refer to a similar incident in the same style?
- </p>
- <p>
- In his own inimitable small way Boswell was for ever sneering at Mrs.
- Thrale. Sometimes he did it with that scrupulous delicacy of which an
- example has just been given; but he called her a liar more than once with
- considerable indelicacy, and his readers will without much trouble come to
- the conclusion that his indelicacy was preferable to his delicacy—it
- certainly came more natural to him. He was small and mean in all his ways,
- and never smaller or meaner than in his references to Mrs. Thrale's second
- marriage.
- </p>
- <p>
- But, it must be repeated, he did not stand alone in regarding her union
- with Piozzi as a <i>mésalliance</i>. Dr. Burney was shocked at the thought
- that any respectable woman would so far forget herself as to marry a
- musician, and his daughter Fanny wept remorseful tears when she reflected
- that she had once been the friend of a lady who did not shrink from
- marrying a foreigner and a Roman Catholic—more of the irony of Fate,
- for Fanny Burney was herself guilty of the same indiscretion later on: she
- made a happy marriage with a Roman Catholic foreigner, who lived on her
- pension and her earnings. Dr. Johnson was brutal when the conviction was
- forced upon him that he would no longer have an opportunity of insulting a
- lady who had treated him with incredible kindness, or the guests whom he
- met at her table. Upon one of the last occasions of his dining at Mrs.
- Thrale's house at Streatham, a gentleman present—an inoffensive
- Quaker—ventured to make a remark respecting the accuracy with which
- the red-hot cannon-balls were fired at the Siege of Gibraltar. Johnson
- listened for some time, and then with a cold sneer said, “I would advise
- you, sir, never to relate this story again. You really can scarce imagine
- how very poor a figure you make in the telling of it.” Later on he took
- credit to himself for not quarrelling with his victim when the latter
- chose to talk to his brother rather than to the man who had insulted him.
- Yes, it can quite easily be understood that Johnson should look on the
- marriage as a sad <i>mésalliance</i>, and possibly it is fair to assume
- from the letter which he wrote to the lady that he felt hurt when he heard
- that it was to take place.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Thrale wrote to tell him that she meant to marry Piozzi, and received
- the following reply:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam,—If I interpret your letter right, you are ignominiously
- married; if it is yet undone, let us once more talk together. If you have
- abandoned your children and your religion, God forgive your wickedness; if
- you have forfeited your fame and your country, may your folly do no
- further mischief!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Possibly the lady may have gathered from the hint or two conveyed to her,
- with Boswellian delicacy, in this letter, that Johnson was displeased with
- her. At any rate, she replied, declining to continue the correspondence.
- </p>
- <p>
- In her letter she summed up the situation exactly as a reasonable person,
- acquainted with all the facts, and knowing something of the first husband,
- would do.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The birth of my second husband is not meaner than that of my first,” she
- wrote; “his sentiments are not meaner; his profession is not meaner; and
- his superiority in what he professes acknowledged by all mankind. It is
- want of fortune, then, that is ignominious; the character of the man I
- have chosen has no other claim to such an epithet. The religion to which
- he has always been a zealous adherent, will, I hope, teach him to forgive
- insults he has not deserved; mine will, I hope, enable [me] to bear them
- at once with dignity and patience. To hear that I have forfeited my fame
- is indeed the greatest insult I ever yet received. My fame is as unsullied
- as snow, or I should think it unworthy of him who must henceforth protect
- it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This brought the surly burly mass of offended dignity to his proper level;
- but still he would not offer the lady who had been his benefactress for
- twenty years an apology for his brutality. He had the presumption to offer
- his advice instead—advice and the story (highly appropriate from his
- point of view) of Mary Queen of Scots and the Archbishop of St. Andrews.
- He advised her to remain in England—he would not relinquish his room
- in her house and his place at her table without a struggle—as her
- rank would be higher in England than in Italy, and her fortune would be
- under her own eye. The latter suggestion was a delicate insult to Piozzi.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Piozzi, as she then became, showed that she esteemed this piece of
- presumption, under the guise of advice, at its true value. Immediately
- after her marriage she went abroad with her husband, though eventually she
- settled with him in England.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now, most modern readers will, we think, when they have become acquainted
- with the whole story of Mrs. Thrale's life, arrive at the conclusion that
- it was her first marriage that was the <i>mésalliance</i>, not her second.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0065.jpg" alt="0065 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0065.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- Henry Thrale was a man of humble origin—a fact that revealed itself
- almost daily in his life—and he was incapable of loving any one
- except himself. He certainly never made a pretence of devotion to his
- wife, and it is equally certain that, although she did more for him than
- any other woman would have done, she never loved him. It might be going
- too far, considering the diversity of temperament existing among
- womankind, to assert that he was incapable of being loved by any woman;
- but beyond a doubt he was not a lovable man. He was a stiff, dignified,
- morose, uncongenial man, and he was a Member of Parliament into the
- bargain. What could a pretty, lively, brilliant girl of good family see in
- such a man as Thrale to make her love him? She never did love him—at
- times she must have detested him. But she married him, and it was a lucky
- day for him that she did so. Twice she saved him from bankruptcy, and
- three times she induced his constituents, who thoroughly hated him, to
- return him to Parliament as their representative. He never did anything in
- Parliament, and he did little out of it that was worth remembering. It is
- customary to make large allowances for a man of business who finds that
- his wealth and a charming wife serve as a passport into what is called
- society, though latterly such men do not stand in need of such a favour
- being shown to them. But if a man betrays his ignorance of certain social
- usages—not necessarily refinements—his friends excuse him on
- the ground that he is a first-rate business man. Thrale, however, was
- unworthy of such a title. He inherited a great scientific business, but he
- showed himself so incapable of appreciating the methods by which it had
- been built up, that he brought himself within a week or two of absolute
- ruin by listening to a clumsy adventurer who advocated the adoption of a
- system of adulteration of his beer that even a hundred and fifty years ago
- would have brought him within sight of a criminal prosecution.
- </p>
- <p>
- His literary wife, by her clever management, aided by the money of her
- mother and of sundry of her own, not her husband's, friends, succeeded in
- staving off the threatened disaster. But the pig-headed man did not accept
- the lesson which one might imagine he would have learned. Seeing the
- success that crowned other enterprises of the same character as his own,
- he endeavoured to emulate this success, not by the legitimate way of
- increasing his customers, but by the idiotic plan of over-production. He
- had an idea that in the multiplying of the article which he had to sell he
- was increasing his business. Once again he was helped from the verge of
- ruin by his literary wife.
- </p>
- <p>
- He must have been a dreadful trial to her, and to a far-seeing manager
- whom he had—a man named Perkins. Of course it was inevitable that
- the force of character possessed by this Mr. Perkins must eventually
- prevail against the dignified incompetence of the proprietor. The
- inevitable happened, and the name of Perkins has for more than a hundred
- years been bracketed with Barclay as a going concern, while the name of
- Thrale has vanished for ever from “the Borough.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was this Mr. Perkins who, when the brewery was within five minutes of
- absolute disaster, displayed the tactics of a great general in the face of
- an implacable enemy, and saved the property. As a reward for his services
- his master authorised the presentation to him of the sum of a hundred
- pounds. His master's wife, however, being a more generous assessor of the
- value of the man's ability, ventured to present double the sum, together
- with a silver tea-service for Mrs. Perkins; but she did so in fear and
- trembling, failing to summon up sufficient courage to acquaint her husband
- with her extravagance until further concealment was impossible. She was so
- overjoyed at his sanctioning the increase that she at once wrote to her
- friends acquainting them with this evidence of his generosity.
- </p>
- <p>
- This episode was certainly the most stirring in the history of Thrale's
- brewery. The Gordon rioters had been terrorising London for several days,
- burning houses in every direction, as well as Newgate and another prison,
- and looting street after street. They had already overthrown one brewery,
- and they found the incident so fascinating that they marched across the
- bridge to the Southwark concern, raising the cry that Thrale was a Papist.
- The Thrales were at this time sojourning at Bath, and were in an agony of
- suspense regarding their property. They had left Dr. Johnson comfortably
- ensconced at their Streatham house in order that they might learn in
- dignified language how things were going on.
- </p>
- <p>
- This is Johnson's thrilling account of the incident:
- </p>
- <p>
- “What has happened to your house you all know. The harm is only a few
- butts of beer, and I think you may be sure that the danger is over. Pray
- tell Mr. Thrale that I live here, and have no fruit, and if he does not
- interpose am not likely to have much; but I think he might as well give me
- a little as give all to the gardener.”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a double catastrophe threatening, it would appear: the burning
- of the brewery and the shortage in the supply of Dr. Johnson's peaches.
- </p>
- <p>
- This is how Mrs. Thrale describes the situation:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing but the astonishing presence of mind shewed by Perkins in amusing
- the mob, with meat and drink and huzzas, till Sir Philip Jennings Clerke
- could get the troops, and pack up the counting-house, bills, bonds etc.
- and carry them, which he did, to Chelsea College for safety, could have
- saved us from actual undoing. The villains <i>had</i> broke in, and our
- brew-house would have blazed in ten minutes, when a property of £150,000
- would have been utterly lost, and its once flourishing possessors quite
- undone.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It seems almost incredible that Johnson, living at Streatham as the
- guardian of Mr. Thrale's interests, should require the lady to write to
- him, begging him to thank Perkins for his heroism. But so it was.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perkins has behaved like an Emperor,” she wrote, “and it is my earnest
- wish and desire—command, if you please to call it so—that you
- will go over to the brew-house and express <i>your</i> sense of his good
- behaviour.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Thrale was unreasonable. How could Johnson be expected to take any
- action when he was deprived of his peaches?
- </p>
- <p>
- It will strike a good many modern readers of the account of this and other
- transactions that if it was Perkins who saved the brewery for Mr. Thrale,
- it was Mrs. Thrale who saved Perkins for the brewery. Possibly it was her
- prompt gift of the silver plate to Mrs. Perkins that induced this splendid
- manager to pocket the insult of the beggarly two hundred guineas given to
- him by Mrs. Thrale—though this was double the amount authorised by
- the “master.” Thrale never sufficiently valued the services of Perkins. If
- he had had any gratitude in his composition he would never have made
- Johnson one of his executors. What a trial it must have been to the
- competent man of business to see Johnson lumbering about the place with a
- pen behind his ear and an ink-pot suspended from a button of his coat,
- getting in the way of everybody, and yet feeling himself quite equal to
- any business emergency that might crop up. He felt himself equal to
- anything—even to improve upon the auctioneer's style in appraising
- the value of the whole concern. “Beyond the dreams of avarice” remains as
- the sole classic phrase born beneath the shadow of a brew-house.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the matter of the premium to Perkins, Thrale should have felt that he
- had a treasure in his wife, to say nothing of all that she had done for
- him upon another occasion, involving a terrible sacrifice. A quarrel had
- broken out among the clerks at the brewery, which even the generalship of
- Perkins was unable to mollify. Had Mrs. Thrale been an ordinary woman she
- would not have jeopardised her own life and the life of her child—her
- thirteenth—in her husband's interests. As it was, however, she felt
- that the duty was imposed on her to settle the difficulties in the
- counting-house, and she did so; but only after many sleepless nights and
- the sacrifice of her child. “The men were reconciled,” she wrote, “and my
- danger accelerated their reconcilement.”
- </p>
- <p>
- If Henry Thrale was deficient in the best characteristics of a business
- man, his qualifications to shine socially can scarcely be regarded as
- abundant. There were stories of his having been a gay dog in his youth,
- but assuredly he and gaiety had long been strangers when he married his
- wife, and upon no occasion afterwards could he be so described even by the
- most indulgent of his friends; so that one rather inclines to the belief
- that the dull dog must have been a dull puppy. We know what his eldest
- daughter was, and we are convinced that the nature of that priggish,
- dignified, and eminently disagreeable young lady was inherited from her
- father. In Miss Thrale as a girl one feels that one is looking at Henry
- Thrale as a boy. The only story that survives of those mythical gay days
- with which he was accredited is that relating to the arrival of the
- Gunnings to take London by storm. It was said that he and Murphy thought
- to make these exquisite creatures the laughing-stock of the town by
- introducing them to a vulgar hanger-on of Murphy, in the character of a
- wealthy man of title and distinction. Possibly the two young men were put
- up to play this disgraceful prank upon the Gunnings by some jealous female
- associate; but however this may be, it not only failed most ignominiously,
- it recoiled upon the jesters themselves, for Mrs. Gunning, herself the
- sister of a nobleman, and destined to become the mother-in-law of two
- dukes and the grandmother of two more—the parent of a peeress in her
- own right, and an uncommonly shrewd Irishwoman into the bargain—“smoaked,”
- as the slang of the period had it, the trick, and her footman bundled the
- trio into the street.
- </p>
- <p>
- The story may be true; but as both the Gunning girls were married in 1752,
- and Thrale did not meet Hester Lynch Salusbury till 1763, it was an old
- story then, and it was not remembered against him except by the Duchess of
- Hamilton. If it represents the standard of his adolescent wildness, we
- cannot but think that his youth was less meteoric than his wife believed
- it to be. At any rate, we do not know much about his early life, but we do
- know a great deal about his latter years, and it is impossible to believe
- that his nature underwent a radical change within a year or two of his
- marriage.
- </p>
- <p>
- He became the host of a large number of the most notable people of that
- brilliant period at which he lived, and we perceive from the copious
- accounts that survive of the Streatham gatherings that he was greatly
- respected by all his visitors. He never said anything that was worth
- recording, and he never did anything memorable beyond stopping Johnson
- when the latter was becoming more than usually offensive to his
- fellow-guests. He had no ear for music any more than Johnson had, and it
- does not appear that he cared any more for painting, although he became a
- splendid patron of Sir Joshua Reynolds, whom he commissioned to paint
- several portraits of his distinguished friends for the decoration of the
- library at Streatham. To his munificence in this respect the world owes
- its finest portraits of Goldsmith, Burke, Garrick, the painter himself,
- and Mrs. Thrale.
- </p>
- <p>
- The debt which we feel we owe to Thrale on this account is, however,
- somewhat discounted when we learn that this enthusiastic patron of art
- never paid the painter for his work. He left the pictures and the
- obligation to pay for them as a legacy to his widow—and to pay for
- them at more than the current rate for each into the bargain. Sir Joshua
- Reynolds was as good a man of business as Thrale was an indifferent one.
- At the time of his painting the portraits his price for a
- three-quarter-length picture was £35, but in the course of a year or two
- he felt it necessary to charge £50 for the same size, and this was the
- price which the unfortunate widow had to pay for her husband's pose as the
- munificent patron of the Arts.
- </p>
- <p>
- Men of the stamp of Thrale usually have no vices.
- </p>
- <p>
- They are highly respected. If they had a vice or two they would be
- beloved. He had a solitary failing, but it did not win for him the
- affection of any one: it was gluttony. For years of his life he gave
- himself up to the coarsest form of indulgence. He was not a gourmet: he
- did not aim at the refinements of the table or at those daintinesses of
- cuisine which in the days of intemperate eaters and drinkers proved so
- fatally fascinating to men of many virtues; no, his was the vice of the
- trough. He ate for the sake of eating, unmindful of the nature of the dish
- so long as it was plentiful enough to keep him employed for an hour or
- two.
- </p>
- <p>
- The dinner-table of the famous Streatham Park must have been a spectacle
- for some of the philosophers who sat round it. We know what was the food
- that Johnson's soul loved, and we know how he was accustomed to partake of
- it. He rioted in pork, and in veal baked with raisins, and when he sat
- down to some such dainty he fed like a wild animal. He used his fingers as
- though they were claws, tearing the flesh from the bone in his teeth, and
- swallowing it not wholly without sound. It is not surprising to learn that
- his exertions caused the veins in his forehead to swell and the beads of
- perspiration to drop from his scholarly brow, nor can any one who has
- survived this account of his muscular feat at the dinner-table reasonably
- be amazed to hear that when so engaged, he devoted himself to the work
- before him to the exclusion of every other interest in life. He was
- oblivious of anything that was going on around him. He was deaf to any
- remark made by a neighbour, and for himself articulation was suspended.
- Doubtless the feeble folk on whom he had been trampling in the
- drawing-room felt that his peculiarities of feeding, though revolting to
- the squeamish, were not without a bright side. They had a chance of making
- a remark at such intervals without being gored—“gored,” it will be
- remembered, was the word employed by Boswell in playful allusion to the
- effect of his argumentative powers.
- </p>
- <p>
- Thanks to the careful habits of some of the guests at this famous house we
- know what fare was placed before the Gargantuan geniuses at one of these
- dinners. Here is the <i>carte du jour</i>, “sufficient for twelve,” as the
- cookery book says:
- </p>
- <p>
- “First course, soups at head and foot, removed by fish and a saddle of
- mutton; second course, a fowl they call galena at head and a capon larger
- than some of our Irish turkeys at foot; third course, four different sorts
- of ices, pine-apple, grape, raspberry and a fourth; in each remove there
- were fourteen dishes.” The world is indebted to an Irish clergyman for
- these details. It will be seen that they did not include much that could
- be sneered at as bordering on the kickshaw. All was good solid English
- fare—just the sort to make the veins in a gormandiser's forehead to
- swell and to induce the lethargy from which Thrale suffered. He usually
- fell asleep after dinner; one day he failed to awake, and he has not
- awakened since.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course Johnson, being invariably in delicate health, was compelled to
- put himself on an invalid's diet when at home. He gives us a sample of a
- <i>diner maigre</i> at Bolt Court. Feeling extremely ill, he wrote to Mrs.
- Thrale that he could only take for dinner “skate, pudding, goose, and
- green asparagus, and could have eaten more but was prudent.” He adds,
- “Pray for me, dear Madam,”—by no means an unnecessary injunction,
- some people will think, when they become aware of the details of the meal
- of an invalid within a year or two of seventy.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was after one of the Streatham dinners that Mrs. Thrale ventured to say
- a word or two in favour of Garrick's talent for light gay poetry, and as a
- specimen repeated his song in <i>Florizel and Perdita</i>, and dwelt with
- peculiar pleasure on this line:
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>I'd smile with the simple and dine with the poor.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- This is Boswell's account of the matter, and he adds that Johnson cried,
- “Nay, my dear lady, this will never do. Poor David! Smile with the simple!
- What folly is that? And who would feed with the poor that can help it? No,
- no; let me smile with the wise and feed with the rich!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Quite so; beyond a doubt Johnson spoke from the bottom of his heart—nay,
- from a deeper depth still.
- </p>
- <p>
- Boswell was amazed to find that Garrick's “sensibility” as a writer was
- irritated when he related the story to him, and in Mrs. Thrale's copy of
- Johnson she made a note—“How odd to go and tell the man!”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was not at all odd that Boswell, being a professional tale-bearer and
- mischief-maker, should tell the man; but it is odd that Garrick should be
- irritated, the fact being that the sally was directed against a line which
- he did not write. What Garrick did write was something very different. The
- verse, which was misquoted, runs thus:
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- That giant Ambition we never can dread;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Our roofs are too low for so lofty a head;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Content and sweet Cheerfulness open our door,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- They smile with the simple and feed with the poor.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Such a muddle as was made of the whole thing can only be attributed to the
- solidity of the Streatham fare.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was inevitable that Thrale could not continue over-eating himself with
- impunity. He was warned more than once by his doctors that he was killing
- himself, and yet when he had his first attack every one was shocked. He
- recovered temporarily, and all his friends implored him to cultivate
- moderation at the dinner-table. A touch of humour is to be found among the
- details of the sordid story, in his wife's begging Johnson—Johnson
- of the swollen forehead and the tokens of his submission to the primeval
- curse in the eating of his bread—to try to reason the unhappy man
- out of his dreadful vice. After wiping from the front of his coat the
- remains of the eighth peach which he had eaten before breakfast, or the
- dregs of his nineteenth cup of tea from his waistcoat, Johnson may have
- felt equal to the duty. He certainly remonstrated with Thrale. It was all
- to no purpose, however; he had a second attack of apoplexy in the spring
- of 1780, and we hear that he was copiously “blooded.” He recovered and
- went to Bath to recruit. It was during this visit to Bath that the brewery
- was attacked by the Gordon rioters. On returning to London he failed to
- induce his constituents to remain faithful to him, and he continued eating
- voraciously for another year. He began a week of gorging on April 1st,
- 1781. His wife implored him to be more moderate, and Johnson said very
- wisely, “Sir, after the denunciation of your physicians this morning, such
- eating is little better than suicide.” It was all to no purpose. He
- survived the gorge of Sunday and Monday, but that of Tuesday was too much
- for him. He was found by his daughter on the floor in a fit of apoplexy,
- and died the next morning.
- </p>
- <p>
- Such was the man whose memory was outraged by the marriage of his widow
- with Piozzi, an Italian musician, whose ability was so highly appreciated
- that his earnings, even when he had lost his voice, amounted to £1200 a
- year, a sum equal to close upon £2500 of our money. And yet Johnson had
- the effrontery to suggest in that letter of his to Mrs. Thrale, which we
- have quoted, that she would do well to live in England, so that her money
- might be under her own eye!
- </p>
- <p>
- The truth is that Mrs. Thrale was in embarrassed circumstances when she
- married Signor Piozzi. Her worthy husband left her an annuity of £2000,
- which was to be reduced by £800 in the event of her marrying again; and
- also £500 for her immediate expenses. Johnson wrote to her, making her
- acquainted with this fact, in order, it would seem, to allay any unworthy
- suspicion which she might entertain as to the extent of her husband's
- generosity. But his last will and testament cannot have wholly dispersed
- the doubt into which her experience of Mr. Thrale may have led her. For a
- man who had been making from £16,000 to £20,000 a year to leave his wife
- only £2000 a year, with a possibility of its being reduced to £1200, would
- not strike any one as being generous to a point of recklessness. When,
- however, it is remembered that Thrale's wife plucked him and his business
- from the verge of bankruptcy more than once, that she bore him fourteen
- children, and that she lived with him for eighteen years, all question as
- to the generosity of his bequest to her vanishes. But when, in addition,
- it is remembered that the lady's fortune at her marriage to Thrale
- amounted to £10,000, all of which he pocketed, and that later on she
- brought him another £500 a year, that it was her mother's money, added to
- the sum which she herself collected personally, which saved the brewery
- from collapse—once again at the sacrifice of her infant—all
- question even of common fairness disappears, and the meanness of the man
- stands revealed.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0083.jpg" alt="0083 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0083.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- It was through the exertions and by the business capacity of his widow
- that the brewery was sold for £135,000. She was the only one of the
- trustees who knew anything definite about the value of the property, and
- had she not been on the spot, that astute Mr. Perkins could have so worked
- the concern that he might have been able to buy it in a year or two for
- the value of the building materials. And yet when she became involved in a
- lawsuit that involved the paying of £7000, she had difficulty in
- persuading her daughters' trustees to advance her the money, although the
- security of the mortgage which she offered for the accommodation would
- have satisfied any bankers. A wretch named Crutchley, who was one of this
- precious band of incompetents, on the completion of the deed bade her
- thank her daughters for keeping her out of gaol. It is not recorded that
- the lady replied, though she certainly might have done so, and with truth
- on her side, that if her daughters had kept her out of a gaol she had kept
- her daughters out of a workhouse. She would have done much better to have
- gone to her friends the Barclays, whose bank had a hundred and fifty years
- ago as high a reputation for probity combined with liberality as the same
- concern enjoys to-day.
- </p>
- <p>
- Enough of the business side of Mrs. Thrale's second marriage has been
- revealed to make it plain that Piozzi was not influenced by any mercenary
- motives in the transaction. On the contrary, it was he who came to her
- assistance when she was in an extremity, and by the prompt loan of £1000
- extricated her from her embarrassment, and left the next day for Italy,
- without having any hope of marrying her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Johnson's verdict on Piozzi, communicated to Miss Seward, was that he was
- an ugly dog, without particular skill in his profession. Unfortunately for
- this musical enthusiast and devotee to beauty, Miss Seward met Piozzi on
- his return from Italy with his wife. (His excellent control of her money
- had resulted in every penny of the mortgage being paid, and of the
- lodgment of £1500 to their credit in the bank). And Miss Seward, writing
- from Lichfield—more of the irony of Fate—in 1787, affirmed
- that the great Lichfield man “did not tell me the truth when he asserted
- that Piozzi was an ugly dog, without particular skill in his profession.
- M. Piozzi is a handsome man in middle life, with gentle, pleasing,
- unaffected manners, and with very eminent skill in his profession. Though
- he has not a powerful or fine-toned voice, he sings with transcending
- grace and expression. I was charmed with his perfect expression on his
- instrument. Surely the finest sensibilities must vibrate through his
- frame, since they breathe so sweetly through his song.” From this verdict
- no person who was acquainted with Signor Piozzi differed. Mrs. Thrale's
- marriage with Piozzi was as fortunate for her as her first marriage was
- for Thrale.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- A TRAGEDY IN THE HAYMARKET
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>BOUT half-past
- nine o'clock on the night of October 6th, 1769, a tall, middle-aged
- gentleman named Joseph Baretti was walking up the Hay-market. The street
- was probably as well lighted as any other in London, and this is
- equivalent to saying that a foot passenger, by keeping close to the
- windows of the shops and taking cross bearings of the economically
- distributed oil lamps hung out at the corners of the many lanes, might be
- able to avoid the deep channel of filth that slunk along the margin of
- cobble stones. But just at this time the Haymarket must have been
- especially well illuminated, for the Opera House was in the act of
- discharging its audience, and quite a number of these fashionable folk
- went home in their chairs, with link boys walking by the side of the burly
- Irish chairmen, showing a flaring flame which left behind it a long trail
- of suffocating smoke, and spluttered resin and bitumen into the faces and
- upon the garments of all who were walking within range of the illuminant.
- Then there was the little theatre higher up the street, and its lamps were
- not yet extinguished; so that Mr. Baretti may have felt that on the whole
- he was fortunate in the hour he had chosen for his stroll to the
- coffee-house where he meant to sup. He may have thought that he had a
- chance of coming across his friend Sir Joshua Reynolds leaving one of the
- playhouses, and of being invited by that hospitable gentleman to his house
- in Leicester Fields; or his still more intimate friend Dr. Samuel Johnson,
- who would certainly insist on carrying him off to the “Mitre,” unless the
- great man were accompanied by that little Scotch person, James Boswell,
- who usually wanted him all to himself, after he had given people a chance
- of seeing him in the company of his distinguished friend, and envying him
- his position of intimacy—the same position of intimacy that exists
- between a Duke and his doormat. Mr. Baretti was too short-sighted to have
- any chance of recognising Sir Joshua Reynolds unless he chanced to be
- standing under the lamp in the portico of the playhouse, but he felt that
- he would have no trouble in recognising Dr. Johnson. The latter had
- characteristics that appealed to other senses than the sense of seeing,
- and made the act of recognition easy enough to his intimates.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Baretti, however, passed along the dispersing crowd, and was soon in
- the dim regions of Panton Street, where pedestrians were few. But before
- he had turned down this street he found his way barred by a couple of
- half-drunken women. His infirmity of sight prevented his being aware of
- their presence until he was almost in the arms of one of them, and the
- very second that he made his sudden stop she made a change in the details
- of the accident that seemed imminent and threw herself into his arms with
- a yell.
- </p>
- <p>
- The good man was staggered for a moment, but, recovering himself, he flung
- her off with an expressive word or two in the Italian tongue. She went
- limply back and, being adroitly avoided by her companion, gave a circular
- stagger or two and fell into the gutter with a screech.
- </p>
- <p>
- Baretti was hurrying on when out of the darkness of Panton Street a big
- man sprang, followed quickly by two others. The first seized him by the
- right arm with the oath of a bully, the others tried to trip him up,
- shouting that he had killed a lady. Baretti was a powerful man and
- decidedly tough. He struck at the fellow who had closed with him, and used
- his feet against the attack of the others with considerable effect. He
- managed to free his arm, but before he could draw his sword he was pulled
- backward and would have fallen upon his head if he had not clutched the
- coat of the man from whom he had freed himself. There was a pause of a few
- seconds, filled up by the wild street yell of the women. The most
- aggressive of the three men leapt upon the unfortunate Baretti, but before
- their bodies met, gave a guttural shriek, then a groan. He staggered past,
- his fingers tearing like talons at his ribs; he whirled twice round and,
- gasping, fell on his knees, motionless only for a few seconds; his hands
- dropped limply from his side, and he pitched forward on his head into the
- gutter.
- </p>
- <p>
- Baretti was standing, awaiting a further attack, with a knife in his hand,
- when he was seized by some of the crowd. He offered no resistance. He
- seemed to be so amazed at finding himself alive as to be incapable of
- taking any further action.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He has killed the man—stabbed him with a dagger to the very heart!”
- was the cry that came from those of the crowd who were kneeling beside the
- wretch in the gutter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And a woman—he had slain a woman at the outset. Hold him fast. None
- of us are safe this night. Have a care for the dagger, friends!”
- </p>
- <p>
- A sufficiency of advice was given by the excited onlookers to the men who
- had encircled Baretti—one of them was clinging to him with his arms
- clasped around his body—until two of the Haymarket watch hurried up,
- striking right and left with their staves after the wholesome manner of
- the period, and so making a way for their approach through the crowd.
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Tis more than a street brawl—a man has been slain—some say a
- woman also,” a shopkeeper explained to them, having run bareheaded out of
- his shop; his apprentice had just put up the last of the shutters.
- </p>
- <p>
- They had Baretti by the collar in a second, cautiously disarming him,
- holding the weapon up to the nearest lamp. The blade was still wet with
- blood.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A swinging matter this,” one of them remarked. “I can swear to the blood.
- No dagger, but a knife. What man walks the streets at night with a naked
- knife unless slaughter is his intent?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Friends, I was attacked by three bullies, and I defended myself—that
- is all,” said Baretti. He spoke English perfectly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will need to tell that to Sir John in the morning,” said one of the
- watchmen. “You are apprehended in the King's name. Where is the poor
- victim?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There must be some of the crowd who saw how I was attacked,” said
- Baretti. “They will testify that I acted in self-defence. Sirs, hear me
- make an appeal to you. Out of your sense of justice—you will not see
- an innocent man apprehended.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The knife—who carries a bare knife in the streets unless with
- intent?” said a man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Twas my fruit-knife. I never go abroad without it. I eat my fruit like a
- Christian, not like a pig or an Englishman,” was the defence offered by
- Baretti, who had now quite lost his temper and was speaking with his
- accustomed bitterness. He usually sought to pass as an Englishman, but he
- was now being arrested by the minions of the law as it was in England.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hear him! A pig of an Englishman. Those were his words! A foreign hound.
- Frenchie, I'll be bound.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A spy—most like a Papist. He has the hanging brow of a born
- Papist.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He'll hang like a dog at Tyburn—he may be sure o' that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Tis the mercy o' Heaven that the rascal was caught red-handed! Sirs,
- this may be the beginning of a dreadful massacring plot against the lives
- of honest and peaceful people.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The comments of a crowd of the period upon such an incident as the
- stabbing of an Englishman by a foreigner in the streets of London can
- easily be imagined.
- </p>
- <p>
- Even when Baretti was put into a hackney coach and driven off to Bow
- Street the crowd doubtless remained talking in groups of the menace to
- English freedom and true religion by the arrival of pestilent foreigners,
- every man of them carrying a knife. It would be a sad day for England when
- Jesuitical fruit-knives took the place of good wholesome British bludgeons
- in the settlement of the ordinary differences incidental to a Protestant
- people.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is certain that this was one of the comments of the disintegrating
- crowd, and it is equally certain that Baretti commented pretty freely to
- his custodians in the hackney coach upon the place occupied in the comity
- of nations of that State, the social conditions of whose metropolis made
- possible so gross a scandal as the arrest of a gentleman and a scholar,
- solely by reason of his success in snatching his life out of the talons of
- a ruffian and a bully.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Baretti was a gentleman and a scholar whose name appears pretty
- frequently in the annals of the eighteenth century, but seldom with any
- great credit to himself. As a matter of fact, this dramatic episode of the
- stabbing of the man in the Haymarket is the happiest with which his name
- is associated. He made his most creditable appearance in the chronicles of
- the period as the chief actor in this sordid drama. He cuts a very poor
- figure indeed upon every other occasion when he appears in the pages of
- his contemporaries, though they all meant to be kind to him.
- </p>
- <p>
- He never could bear people to be kind to him, and certainly, so far as he
- himself was concerned, it cannot be said that any blame attaches to him
- for the persistence of his friends in this direction. He did all that
- mortal man could do to discourage them, and if after the lapse of a year
- or two he was still treated by some with cordiality or respect, assuredly
- it was not owing to his display of any qualities that justified their
- maintenance of such an attitude.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Baretti was an eminently detestable scholar of many parts. He was as
- detestable as he was learned—perhaps even more so. Learned men are
- not invariably horrid, unless they are men of genius as well, and this
- rarely happens.
- </p>
- <p>
- Baretti had no such excuse, though it must be acknowledged that his
- capacity for being disagreeable almost amounted to genius. Such a
- character as his is now and again met with in daily life. A man who feels
- himself to be, in point of scholarly attainment, far above the majority of
- men, and who sees inferiority occupying a place of distinction while he
- remains neglected and, to his thinking, unappreciated, is not an uncommon
- figure in learned or artistic circles. Baretti was a disappointed man, and
- he showed himself to be such. He had a grievance against the world for
- being constituted as it is. He had a grievance against society. He had a
- grievance against his friends who got on in the world. But the only people
- against whom he was really malevolent were those who were signally and
- unaccountably kind to him. He accepted their kindness, and then turned and
- rent them.
- </p>
- <p>
- Dr. Johnson met him when they were both working for the booksellers, and
- when the great dictionary scheme was floated his co-operation was
- welcomed. Johnson's success in life was largely due to his faculty for
- discovering people who could be useful to him. It can easily be believed
- that, knowing something of the scholarship of Baretti, he should be
- delighted to avail himself of his help. Baretti had an intimate knowledge
- of several languages and their literature; as a philologist he was
- probably far superior to Johnson; and possibly Johnson knew this, though
- he was doubtless too wise ever to acknowledge so much openly. We do not
- hear that the relations between the two ever became strained while the
- great work was in course of progress. Shortly after it was completed
- Baretti returned to his native Italy, and began to reproach Johnson for
- not writing to him more frequently. We have several examples of the
- cheerfulness with which Johnson set about exculpating himself from such
- reproaches. The letters which he wrote to him at Italy are among the most
- natural that ever came from his pen. They are models of the gossipy style
- which Johnson could assume without once deviating from that dignity which
- so frequently became ponderous, suggesting the dignity of the elephant
- rather than that of the lion. Walpole was a master of the art of being
- gossipy without being dignified. But Johnson's style was not flexible. We
- have not Baretti's letters to Johnson, but the references made by the
- latter to some matters communicated to him by his correspondent let us
- know something of how Baretti was getting on in the land of his birth. He
- seems to have set his heart upon obtaining some appointment in Italy, and
- his aspirations included marriage. He was disappointed in both directions;
- and it would be too much to expect that his temper was improved by these
- rebuffs.
- </p>
- <p>
- It may well be believed that he quarrelled his way through Italy. “I have
- lately seen Mr. Stratico, Professor of Padua, who has told me of your
- quarrel with an abbot of the Celestine Order, but had not the particulars
- very ready in his memory,” Johnson wrote to him at Milan. Any one who
- could quarrel with an abbot of the Celestine Order would, we fancy, be <i>capable
- de tout</i>, like the prophet Habakkuk, according to the witty Frenchman.
- One is not disposed to be hard upon Professor Stratico for his shortness
- of memory in regard to this particular quarrel; the strain of remembering
- the details of all the quarrels of Mr. Baretti would be too great for any
- man.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course, Dr. Johnson gave him some excellent advice. It seems that poor
- Baretti had been at first so well received on his return to Italy that he
- became sanguine of success in all his enterprises, and when they
- miscarried he wrote very bitterly to Johnson, who replied as follows:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am sorry for your disappointment, with which you seem more touched than
- I should expect a man of your resolution and experience to have been, did
- I not know that general truths are seldom applied to particular occasions;
- and that the fallacy of our selflove extends itself as wide as our
- interests or affections. Every man believes that mistresses are unfaithful
- and patrons capricious; but he excepts his own mistress and his own
- patron. We have all learned that greatness is negligent and contemptuous,
- and that in Courts life is often languished away in ungratified
- expectation; but he that approaches greatness or glitters in a Court,
- imagines that destiny has at last exempted him from the common lot.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It is doubtful if this excellent philosophy made the person to whom it was
- addressed more amiable to his immediate entourage; nor is it likely that
- he was soothed by the assurance that his “patron's weakness or
- insensibility will finally do you little hurt, if he is not assisted by
- your own passions.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of your love,” continued Johnson, “I know not the propriety; we can
- estimate the power, but in love, as in every other passion of which hope
- is the essence, we ought always to remember the uncertainty of events.” He
- then hastens to add that “love and marriage are different states. Those
- who are to suffer the evils together, and to suffer often for the sake of
- one another, soon lose that tenderness of look, and that benevolence of
- mind which arose from the participation of unmingled pleasure and success
- in amusement.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The pleasant little cynical bark in the phrase “those that are to suffer
- the evils together,” as if it referred to love and marriage, is, Malone
- thinks, not Johnson's, but Baretti's. It is suggested that Johnson really
- wrote “those that are to suffer the evils <i>of life</i> together,” and
- that Baretti in transcribing the letter for Boswell, purposely omitted the
- words “<i>of life</i>.” It would be quite like Baretti to do this; for he
- would thereby work off part of his spite against Johnson for having given
- him the advice, and he would have had his own sneer against “love and
- marriage,” the <i>fons et origo</i> of his disappointment.
- </p>
- <p>
- But of Dr. Johnson's esteem for the attainments of Baretti there can be no
- doubt. He thought that the book on Italy which he published on his return
- to England was very entertaining, adding: “Sir, I know no man who carries
- his head higher in conversation than Baretti. There are strong powers in
- his mind. He has not, indeed, many hooks; but with what hooks he has he
- grapples very forcibly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0099.jpg" alt="0099 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0099.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- It may seem rather strange after this that Baretti was never admitted to
- the membership of the celebrated club. He was intimate with nearly all the
- original members, but the truth remained that he was not what Johnson
- called a clubbable man: he had too many hooks, not too few.
- </p>
- <p>
- Such was the man who was brought before Sir John Fielding, the magistrate
- at Bow Street, on the morning after the tragedy, charged with murder; and
- then it was that he found the value of the friendships which he had formed
- in England. The first person to hasten to his side in his extremity was
- Oliver Goldsmith, the man whom he had so frequently made the object of his
- sarcasm, whose peculiarities he had mimicked, not in the playful manner of
- Garrick or Foote, but in his own spiteful style, with the grim humour of
- the disappointed man. Goldsmith it was who opened his purse for him and
- got a coach for him when he was remanded until the next day, riding by his
- side to the place of his incarceration. Goldsmith was by his side when the
- question of bail was discussed before Lord Mansfield. For some reason
- which does not require any particular explanation, it was not thought that
- Goldsmith as a bailsman would appeal irresistibly to the authorities, but
- the names of Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Edmund Burke, Mr. David Garrick, and
- Mr. H. Fitzherbert were submitted to Lord Mansfield, and immediately
- accepted. An amusing anecdote was current regarding the few days of
- Baretti's incarceration. One morning he was visited by a teacher of
- languages, who begged a trifling favour of him. This was merely a letter
- of recommendation to Baretti's pupils, so that the applicant might have a
- chance of taking them over “when you are hanged, sir.” The fact that this
- sympathetic visitor was allowed to depart without molestation makes people
- doubt whether Baretti was so bad-tempered after all. He did not assault
- the man. “You rascal!” he cried. “If I were not in my own room, I would
- kick you downstairs directly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The trial was fixed for October 20th at the Old Bailey, and a few days
- before this date a number of the prisoner's friends met together to
- consult as to the line which should be taken for his defence. It seems
- that they were not all agreed on some points; this was only to be
- expected, considering what an array of wisdom was brought together upon
- the occasion of these consultations, and considering also the course which
- was adopted by Dr. Johnson, who thought that the interests of the prisoner
- would be advanced by getting up an academical discussion with Burke.
- Johnson and Burke were notorious rivals in conversation in those days when
- conversation was regarded as an art, and men and women seemed to have
- plenty of leisure to talk together for the sake of talking, and to argue
- together for the sake of argument, and to be rude to one another for the
- sake of wit. Boswell was for ever extolling Johnson at the expense of
- Burke; and indeed, so far as one can gather from his pages, Johnson was
- the ruder man.
- </p>
- <p>
- The example that Boswell gives of his own readiness in making Goldsmith
- “shut up” when he questioned Johnson's superiority to Burke in discussion
- is one of the best instances of the little Scotsman's incapacity to
- perceive the drift of an argument. “Is he like Burke who winds into a
- subject like a serpent?” asked Goldsmith.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But” (said I) “Dr. Johnson is the Hercules that strangled serpents in his
- cradle.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This repartee which Boswell gleefully records is about equal to the reply
- made by one of the poets who was appealed to in the “Bab Ballads” to say
- if he wrote “the lovely cracker mottoes my Elvira pulls at supper.” It
- will be remembered that the poet whose name rhymes with “supper” replied:
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- “'A fool is bent upon a twig, but wise men dread a bandit,'
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Which” (the earnest inquirer said) “I felt was very wise,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- but I didn't understand it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- It was in regard to this consultation as to the best defence to be made
- out for Baretti that Johnson admitted to have opposed Burke simply for the
- sake of showing the rest of the company that he could get the better of
- Burke in an argument. “Burke and I,” he said, “should have been of one
- opinion if we had had no audience.” Such a confession! There was the life
- of his friend Baretti trembling in the balance, and yet Johnson, solely
- for the sake of “showing off,” opposed the wisdom and ingenuity Burke
- exercised to save from the gallows a man whom Johnson professed to admire!
- </p>
- <p>
- But if we are to believe Boswell, Johnson cared very little whether his
- friend was hanged or not. As for Boswell himself, he always detested
- Baretti, and is reported to have expressed the earnest hope that the man
- would be hanged. However, the “consultations” went merrily on, and
- doubtless contributed in some measure to a satisfactory solution of the
- vexed question as to whether Johnson or Burke was the more brilliant
- talker. They formed a tolerably valid excuse for the uncorking of several
- bottles, and perhaps these friends of Baretti felt that even though he
- should die, yet the exchange of wit in the course of these happy evenings
- would live for ever in the memory of those present, so that after all, let
- the worst come to the worst, Baretti should have little cause for
- complaint.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is reported that the prisoner, upon the occasion of his receiving a
- visit from Johnson and Burke, cried: “What need a man fear who holds two
- such hands?” It may here be mentioned, however, that although it was
- asserted that Johnson and Murphy were responsible for the line of defence
- adopted at the trial, yet in after years Baretti was most indignant that
- it should be suggested that credit should be given to any one but himself
- for his defence; and he ridiculed the notion that Johnson or Burke or
- Murphy or even Boswell—himself an aspirant to the profession of law
- in which he subsequently displayed a conspicuous lack of distinction—had
- anything to do with the instruction either of solicitors or barristers on
- his behalf.
- </p>
- <p>
- At any rate, the “consultations” came to an end, and the friends of the
- accused awaited the trial with exemplary patience. Mr. Boswell seems
- suddenly to have become the most sympathetic of the friends; for three
- days before the event he took a journey to Tyburn to witness the hanging
- of several men at that place, and though it is known that the spectacle of
- a hanging never lost its charm for him, yet it is generous to assume that
- upon this occasion he went to Tyburn in order to qualify himself more
- fully for sympathising with Baretti, should the defence assigned to him
- break down.
- </p>
- <p>
- Another ardent sympathiser was Mr. Thomas Davies the bookseller, a
- gentleman whose chief distinction in the eyes of his contemporaries
- consisted—if we are to believe one of the wittiest of his associates—in
- the fact that he had an exceedingly pretty wife; but whose claim to the
- gratitude of coming generations lies in the circumstance of his having
- introduced Boswell to Johnson. Tom Davies was terribly cut up at the
- thought of the possibility of Baretti's being sentenced to be hanged.
- Boswell, on the day before the trial, after telling Johnson how he had
- witnessed the executions at Tyburn, and expressing his surprise that none
- of the wretches seemed to think anything of the matter, mentioned that
- Foote, the actor, had shown him a letter which he had received from Tom
- Davies, and in which the writer affirmed that he had not had a wink of
- sleep owing to his anxiety in respect of “this sad affair of Baretti,” and
- begging Foote to suggest some way by which he could be of service to the
- accused, adding that should Mr. Foote be in need of anything in the pickle
- line, he could strongly recommend him to an industrious young man who had
- lately set up in that business.
- </p>
- <p>
- Strange to say, Johnson was not impressed with this marked evidence of Mr.
- Davies' kind heart.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, sir, here you have a specimen of human sympathy,” he cried. “A friend
- hanged and a cucumber pickled! We know not whether Baretti or the pickle
- man has kept Davies from sleep; nor does he know himself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This was rather sweeping, but his dictum showed that he was rather a poor
- analyser of human emotion. In the minds of the people of to-day who read
- of Tom Davies' bad nights there is no manner of doubt whatever that the
- sequence of his emotions was to be attributed to his intimacy with the
- industrious young pickle maker. Tom had indulged rather too freely in some
- of the specimens of his art presented to him by the pickler, and the
- result was a melancholy night; and, being melancholy, he was led to think
- of the most melancholy incident that had recently come under his notice.
- When a man is full of mixed pickles he is liable to get a little mixed,
- and so in the morning he attributed his miserable night to his thoughts
- about Baretti, instead of knowing that his thoughts about Baretti were the
- natural result of his miserable night. If he had been acquainted with an
- industrious young onion merchant he might have passed the night in tears.
- </p>
- <p>
- “As for his not sleeping,” said Dr. Johnson, “sir, Tom Davies is a very
- great man—Tom has been on the stage, and knows how to do those
- things.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Boswell: “I have often blamed myself, sir, for not feeling for others as
- sensibly as many say they do.” Johnson: “Sir, don't be duped by them any
- more. You will find those very feeling people are not very ready to do you
- good. They pay you by feeling.” Mr. Boswell thought that he would do well
- to turn his friend from the subject under discussion, so he made the
- apparently harmless remark that Foote had a great deal of humour and that
- he had a singular talent of exhibiting character. But Johnson had on him
- the mood not only of “the rugged Russian bear,” but also of “the armed
- rhinoceros and the Hyrcan tiger.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir, it is not a talent: it is a vice; it is what others abstain from,”
- he growled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did not he think of exhibiting you, sir?” inquired the tactful Mr.
- Boswell, though he knew all about Foote and Johnson long before.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir, fear restrained him,” said Johnson. “He knew I would have broken his
- bones. I would have saved him the trouble of cutting off a leg: I would
- not have left him a leg to cut off.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This brutal reference to the fact that Foote's recent accident had
- compelled him to have a leg amputated should surely have suggested to his
- inquisitor that he had probably been paying a visit to an industrious
- young pickle maker without Tom Davies' recommendation, or that he had
- partaken of too generous a helping of his favourite veal, baked with
- plums, and so that he would do well to leave him alone for a while. But
- no, Mr. Boswell was not to be denied.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pray, sir, is not Foote an infidel?” he inquired. But as he himself had
- been dining with Foote the previous day, and as he possessed no more
- delicacy than a polecat, he could easily have put the question to Foote
- himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Johnson would not even give the man credit for his infidelity.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not know, sir, that the fellow is an infidel,” he said; “but if he
- is an infidel, he is an infidel as a dog is an infidel, that is to say, he
- has never thought on the subject.”
- </p>
- <p>
- In another second he was talking of Buchanan, a poet, whom he praised, and
- of Shakespeare, another poet, whom he condemned, winding up by saying that
- there were some very fine things in Dr. Young's <i>Night Thoughts</i>. But
- the most remarkable of his deliverances on this rather memorable evening
- had reference to Baretti's fate. After declaring that if one of his
- friends had just been hanged he would eat his dinner every bit as heartily
- as if his friend were still alive.—“Why, there's Baretti, who is to
- be tried for his life to-morrow,” he added; “friends have risen up for him
- on every side; yet if he should be hanged, none of them will eat a slice
- of plum pudding the less.” Happily the accuracy of this tender-hearted
- scholar's prediction had no chance of being put to the test. Baretti was
- tried and acquitted.
- </p>
- <p>
- Boswell gives only a few lines to an account of the trial, and fails to
- mention that the prisoner declined the privilege of being tried by a jury
- one half of whom should be foreigners. “It took place,” he said, “at the
- awful Sessions House, emphatically called Justice Hall,” and he affirms
- that “never did such a constellation of genius enlighten the Old Bailey.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He mentions that Mr. Burke, Mr. Garrick, Mr. Beauclerk, and Dr. Johnson
- gave evidence, the last-named being especially impressive, speaking in a
- slow, deliberate, and distinct tone of voice. It seems strange that
- Boswell, who was (nominally) a lawyer, when he wrote his life of Johnson,
- should say nothing whatever respecting the line of defence adopted by the
- friends of the prisoner upon this interesting occasion. It might have been
- expected that he would dwell lovingly, as a lawyer would certainly be
- pardoned for doing, upon the technical points involved in the trial, even
- though he hated Baretti. For instance, it would be interesting to learn
- why it was thought that the result of the trial might mean the hanging of
- Baretti, when from the first it was perfectly plain that he had acted in
- self-defence: not merely was he protecting his purse, he had actually to
- fight for his life against an acknowledged ruffian of the most
- contemptible type. In the present day if a short-sighted man of letters—say
- Mr. Augustine Birrell—were to be attacked in a dark street by three
- notorious scoundrels and to manage to kill one of them by poking the
- ferrule end of an umbrella into his eye, no one—not even a
- Conservative Attorney-General—would fancy that a grand jury at the
- New Old Bailey would return a true bill against him for the act, putting
- aside all question of his being found guilty and sentenced to be hanged.
- And yet in Baretti's time swords were commonly worn, and they were by no
- means toy weapons. Why should poor Tom Davies have a sleepless night,
- owing (as he believed) to his apprehension that his friend would be hanged
- in a day or two? Why was it necessary to dazzle the “awful Sessions House”
- by such “a constellation of genius” as had never before assembled in that
- “Hall of Justice”?
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Boswell might certainly have told us something of the actual scene in
- the court, when he has devoted so much space to the ridiculous dialogues
- between himself and Johnson, having more or less bearing upon the case.
- The course he adopted is like laying a dinner-table with four knives and
- forks and five wineglasses for every guest—in having a constellation
- of genii in plush behind every chair, and then serving a dinner of hashed
- mutton only. A great number of people believe that whatever Boswell may
- have been, he was invariably accurate. But in this case he does not even
- give a true account of the constellation of genius to which he refers. He
- only says that Burke, Garrick, Beauclerk, and Johnson were called as
- witnesses. He omits to say a word about Goldsmith, who was something of a
- genius; or Reynolds, who was quite a tolerable painter; or Fitzherbert,
- who had a wide reputation as a politician; or Dr. Halifax, whose evidence
- carried certainly as much weight as Johnson's. He does not even say a word
- respecting the evidence which Johnson and the others were called on to
- give on behalf of the prisoner at the bar. What is the good of telling us
- that the constellation of genius had never been paralleled within the
- precincts of the “emphatically called Justice Hall” if we are not made
- aware of some of the flashes of their genius when they were put into the
- witness-box?
- </p>
- <p>
- The truth is that Boswell had no sense of proportion any more than a sense
- of the sublime and beautiful—or, for that matter, a sense of the
- ridiculous. He was the Needy Knife Grinder—with an occasional axe of
- his own—of the brilliant circle into which he crawled, holding on to
- Johnson's skirts and half concealing himself beneath their capacious
- flaps. He had constant stories suggested to him, but he failed to see
- their possibilities. He was a knife grinder and nothing more; but at his
- own trade he was admirable; he ground away patiently at his trivialities
- respecting the man whom he never was within leagues of understanding, and
- it is scarcely fair to reproach him for not throwing away his grindstone,
- which he knew how to use, and taking to that of a diamond cutter, which he
- was incapable of manipulating. But surely he might have told us something
- more of the actual trial of Baretti instead of giving us page after page
- leading up to the trial.
- </p>
- <p>
- From other sources we learn that what all the geniuses were called on to
- testify to was the pacific character of Baretti, and this they were all
- able to do in an emphatic manner. It would seem that it was assumed that
- the prisoner, a short-sighted, middle-aged man of letters, was possessed
- of all the dangerous qualities of a bloodthirsty brigand of his own
- country—that he was a fierce and ungovernable desperado, who was in
- the habit of prowling about the purlieus of the Haymarket to do to death
- with a fruit-knife the peaceful citizens whom he might encounter. He was a
- foreigner, and he had killed an Englishman with an outlandish weapon. That
- seems to have been the reason there was for the apprehension, which was
- very general in respect of the fate of Baretti, for it was upon these
- points that his witnesses were most carefully examined.
- </p>
- <p>
- Goldsmith, Reynolds, and Garrick were very useful witnesses regarding the
- knife. They affirmed that in carrying a fruit-knife the prisoner was in no
- way departing from the recognised custom of his fellow-countrymen. He, in
- common with them, was in the habit of eating a great deal of fruit, so
- that the knife was a necessity with him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Johnson's evidence was as follows:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have known Mr. Baretti a long time. He is a man of literature—a
- very studious man—a man of great intelligence. He gets his living by
- study. I have no reason to think he was ever disordered with liquor in his
- life. A man that I have never known to be otherwise than peaceable and a
- man that I take to be rather timorous. As to his eyesight, he does not see
- me now, nor do I see him. I do not believe he would be capable of
- assaulting anybody in the street without great provocation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It cannot be denied that the reference to Baretti's imperfect sight told
- upon the jury, and uttered as the words were by Johnson in his dignified
- way, they could scarcely fail to produce a profound effect upon the court.
- </p>
- <p>
- Baretti was acquitted, and no one could presume to refer to him for the
- rest of his life except as a quiet, inoffensive, frugivorous gentleman,
- since these were the qualities with which he was endowed by a
- constellation of geniuses on their oath. He was acquitted by the jury; but
- the judge thought it well to say a few words to him before allowing him to
- leave the dock, and the drift of his discourse amounted to a severe
- censure upon his impetuosity, and the expression of a hope that the
- inconvenience to which he was put upon this occasion would act as a
- warning to him in future.
- </p>
- <p>
- Really one could hardly imagine that in those days, when every week Mr.
- Boswell had a chance of going to such an entertainment at Tyburn as he had
- attended forty-eight hours before the opening of the Sessions, the taking
- of the life of a human being was regarded with such horror. One cannot
- help recalling the remark made by Walpole a few years later, that, owing
- to the severity of the laws, England had been turned into one vast
- shambles; nor can one quite forget the particulars of the case which was
- quoted as having an intimate bearing upon this contention—the case
- in which a young wife whose husband had been impressed to serve in His
- Majesty's Fleet, and who had consequently been left without any means of
- support, had stolen a piece of bread to feed her starving children, and
- had been hanged at Tyburn for the crime.
- </p>
- <p>
- Reading the judge's censure of Baretti, who had, in preventing a
- contemptible ruffian from killing him, decreased by a unit the criminality
- of London, the only conclusion that one can come to is that the courts of
- law were very jealous of their precious prerogative to kill. Looking at
- the matter in this light, the bombastic phrase of Boswell does not seem so
- ridiculous after all; the Old Bailey had certainly good reason to be
- regarded as the “awful Sessions House.” But we are not so fully convinced
- that it had any right to be referred to as emphatically the Hall of
- Justice. In the Georgian Pageant the common hangman played too conspicuous
- a part.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the unfortunate, if impetuous, Baretti left the court a free man, and
- we cannot doubt that in the company of his friends who had stood by him in
- his hour of trial he was a good deal harder upon the judge than the judge
- had been upon him; and probably he was reproved in a grave and dignified
- manner by Dr. Johnson, Sir Joshua Reynolds standing by with his ear
- trumpet, fearful lest a single word of Johnson's wisdom should escape him.
- Doubtless Mr. Garrick, the moment Johnson's back was turned, gave an
- inimitable imitation of both Johnson and Baretti—perhaps of the
- judge as well, and most likely the usher of the court.
- </p>
- <p>
- Later on, when the avaricious Reynolds had hastened back to his studio in
- Leicester Fields to daub on canvas the figures of some of his sitters at
- the extortionate price of thirty-five guineas for a three-quarter length,
- he and Johnson put their heads together to devise what could be done for
- Baretti.
- </p>
- <p>
- For about a year Baretti resumed his old way of living, working for the
- booksellers and completing his volume of travel through Europe, by which
- it is said he made £500. It would appear, however, that all his pupils had
- transferred themselves to the enterprising gentleman who had appealed to
- him at an inopportune moment for his recommendation, or to some of his
- other brethren, for by the end of the year he was in needy circumstances.
- Meantime he had been made by Sir Joshua Reynolds Honorary Secretary for
- Foreign Correspondence to the Royal Academy, and then Johnson recommended
- him to the husband of Mrs. Thrale as tutor to her girls at Streatham. This
- was very kind to Baretti, but it was rather hard on the Thrales.
- Apparently from the first day he went to Streatham his attitude in regard
- to the Thrale family was one of spite and malevolence; and there can be no
- doubt that Johnson bitterly regretted his patronage of a man who seemed
- never to forgive any one who had done him a good turn.
- </p>
- <p>
- The agreement made by him with the Thrales was that he should practically
- be his own master, only residing at Streatham as a member of the family
- with no fixed salary. He was as artful as an Irish cabman in suggesting
- this “leave it to your honour” contract. He had heard on all hands of the
- liberality of Mr. Thrale, and he knew that, in addition to being provided
- with a luxurious home, he would receive presents from him far in excess of
- what he could earn. He was extremely well treated for the next three
- years, though he was for ever grumbling when he had a moment's leisure
- from insulting the Thrales and their guests. Mrs. Thrale said more in his
- favour than any one with whom he came in contact. She wrote: “His lofty
- consciousness of his own superiority which made him tenacious of every
- position, and drew him into a thousand distresses, did not, I must own,
- ever disgust me, till he began to exercise it against myself, and resolve
- to reign in our house by fairly defying the mistress of it. Pride,
- however, though shocking enough, is never despicable; but vanity, which he
- possessed too, in an eminent degree, will sometimes make a man near sixty
- ridiculous.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Assuredly Mrs. Thrale “let him down” very gently. Dr. Thomas Campbell, a
- clergyman from Ireland, gives us a glimpse of Baretti's bearing at
- Streatham. It is clear that Baretti was anxious to impress him with the
- nature of his position in the house. “He told me he had several families
- both in town and country with whom he could go at any time and spend a
- month; he is at this time on these terms at Mr. Thrale's, and he knows how
- to keep his ground. Talking, as we were at tea, of the magnitude of the
- beer vessels, he said there was one thing at Mr. Thrale's house still more
- extraordinary—his wife. She gulped the pill very prettily. So much
- for Baretti!” wrote the clergyman in a very illuminating account of his
- visit to Streatham.
- </p>
- <p>
- But not only did Mrs. Thrale bear with this detestable person for nearly
- two more years, but she and her husband took him with them and Johnson to
- Paris, where they lived in a magnificent way, the Thrales paying for
- everything. It was in a letter to Frank Levet, his domestic apothecary,
- that Johnson, writing from Paris, said: “I ran a race in the rain this
- day, and beat Baretti. Baretti is a fine fellow.” This is Johnson on
- Baretti. Here is Baretti on Johnson; on a copy of the <i>Piozzi Letters</i>
- he wrote: “Johnson was often fond of saying silly things in strong terms,
- and the silly madam”—meaning Mrs. Thrale—“never failed to echo
- that beastly kind of wit.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was not, however, until an Italian tour, projected by Mr. Thrale, was
- postponed, that Baretti became quite unendurable. He had been presented by
- Mr. Thrale with £100 within a few months, and on the abandonment of the
- longer tour he received another £100 by way of compensation for the
- satisfaction he had been compelled to forgo in showing his countrymen the
- position to which he had attained in England. This was another act of
- generosity which he could not forgive. He became sullen and more
- cantankerous than ever, and neglected his duties in an intolerable way. In
- fact, he treated Streatham as if it were an hotel, turning up to give Miss
- Thrale a lesson at the most inconvenient hours, and then devoting the most
- of his time to poisoning the girl's mind against her mother. Upon one
- occasion he expressed the hope to her that if her mother died Mr. Thrale
- would marry Miss Whitbred, who would, he said, be a pretty companion for
- her, not tyrannical and overbearing as he affirmed her own mother was!
- Truly a nice remark for a young lady's tutor to make to her under her
- mother's roof.
- </p>
- <p>
- The fact was, however—we have Baretti's own confession for it—that
- he had been led to believe that after being with the Thrales for a year or
- two, an annuity would be settled on him by the wealthy brewer, and he grew
- impatient at his services to the family not obtaining recognition in this
- way. It is extremely unlikely that Johnson ever even so much as hinted at
- this annuity, though Baretti says his expectations were due to what
- Johnson had told him; but it is certain that he had so exalted an opinion
- of himself, he believed that after a year or two of desultory teaching he
- should receive a handsome pension. And there the old story of the
- car-driver who left the nomination of the fare to “his honour's honour”
- was repeated. Baretti one morning packed up his bag and left Streatham
- without a word of farewell.
- </p>
- <p>
- Johnson's account of his departure and his comments thereupon are worth
- notice. He wrote to Boswell:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Baretti went away from Thrales in some whimsical fit of disgust or
- ill-nature without taking any leave. It is well if he finds in any other
- place as good an habitation and as many conveniences.”
- </p>
- <p>
- On the whole it is likely that a good many of Baretti's friends felt
- rather sorry than otherwise that the jury at the Old Bailey had taken so
- merciful a view of his accident. If Johnson and Murphy were really
- responsible for the line of defence which prevailed at the trial, one can
- quite believe that the Thrales and a good many of their associates bore
- them a secret grudge for their pains.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the year 1782 he was granted by the Government the pension which he had
- failed to extort from the Thrales. It amounted to £80 per annum, and we
- may take it for granted that he had nothing but the most copious abuse for
- the Prime Minister who had only given him £80 when Sheridan was receiving
- £200 and Johnson £300. He drew his pension for seven years.
- </p>
- <p>
- Baretti's portrait, painted by Reynolds for the Streatham gallery, fetched
- £31 10s., the smallest price of any in the whole collection, on its
- dispersal, years after the principal actors in the scene in the “awful
- Sessions House” had gone to another world.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- THE FATAL GIFT
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HEN Mr. Boswell
- had been snubbed, and very soundly snubbed too, by a Duchess, one might
- fancy that his ambition was fully satisfied. But he was possibly the most
- persevering of the order of <i>Pachydermata</i> at that time extant; and
- in the matter of snubs he had the appetite of a leviathan. He was fired
- with the desire to be snubbed once more by Her Grace—and he was.
- Without waiting to catch her eye, he raised his glass and, bowing in her
- direction, said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “My Lady Duchess, I have the honour to drink Your Grace's good health.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Duchess did not allow her conversation with Dr. Johnson to be
- interrupted by so flagrant a piece of politeness; she continued chatting
- quite pleasantly to the great man, ignoring the little one. That was how
- she had got on in life; and, indeed, a better epitome of the whole art of
- getting on in life could scarcely be compiled even by the cynical nobleman
- who wrote letters to his son instructing him in this and other forms of
- progress—including the Rake's.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Boswell, who, as usual, is the pitiless narrator of the incident,
- records his satisfaction at having attained to the distinction of a snub
- from the beautiful creature at whose table he was sitting, and we are, as
- usual, deeply indebted to him for giving us an illuminating glimpse of the
- Duchess of whom at one time all England and the greater part of Ireland
- were talking. He also mentions that Her Grace made use of an idiom by
- which her Irish upbringing revealed itself. If we had not Mr. Boswell's
- account of his visit to Inveraray to refer to we might be tempted to
- believe that Horace Walpole deviated into accuracy when he attributed to
- the Duchess of Argyll, as well as her sister, the Countess of Coventry,
- the brogue of a bog-trotter. It was only by her employment of an idiom
- common to the south and west of Ireland and a few other parts of the
- kingdom, that Her Grace made him know that she had not been educated in
- England, or for that matter in Scotland, where doubtless Mr. Boswell
- fondly believed the purest English in the world was spoken.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0121.jpg" alt="0121 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0121.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- Mr. Boswell faithfully records—sometimes with glee and occasionally
- with pride—many snubs which he received in the course of a lifetime
- of great pertinacity, and some that he omitted to note, his contemporaries
- were obliging enough to record; but on none did he reflect with more
- satisfaction than that, or those, which he suffered in the presence of the
- Duchess of Argyll.
- </p>
- <p>
- It happened during that memorable tour to the Hebrides to which he lured
- Johnson in order to show his countrymen how great was his intimacy with
- the man who traduced them once in his Dictionary and daily in his life. It
- was like Boswell to expect that he would impress the Scottish nation by
- leading Johnson to view their fine prospects—he certainly was never
- foolish enough to hope to impress Johnson by introducing the Scottish
- nation to him. In due time, however, the exploiter and the exploited found
- themselves in the neighbourhood of Inveraray, the Duke of Argyll's Castle,
- and the stronghold of the Clan Campbell.
- </p>
- <p>
- It chanced that the head of the great family was in residence at this
- time, and Mr. Boswell hastened to apprise him of the fact that the great
- Dr. Johnson was at hand. He called at the Castle very artfully shortly
- after the dinner hour, when he believed the Duchess and her daughter would
- have retired to a drawing-room. He was successful in finding the Duke
- still at the dinner-table, the ladies having retired. In the course of the
- interview the Duke said: “Mr. Boswell, won't you have some tea?” and Mr.
- Boswell, feeling sure that the Duchess could not go very far in insulting
- him when other people were present, followed his host into the
- drawing-room. “The Duke,” he records, “announced my name, but the Duchess,
- who was sitting with her daughter, Lady Betty Hamilton, and some other
- ladies, took not the least notice of me. I should,” he continues, “have
- been mortified at being thus coldly received by a lady of whom I, with the
- rest of the world, have always entertained a very high admiration, had I
- not been consoled by the obliging attention of the Duke.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Duke was, indeed, obliging enough to invite Johnson to dinner the next
- day, and Mr. Boswell was included in the invitation. (So it is that the
- nursery governess gets invited to the table in the great house to which
- she is asked to bring the pretty children in her charge.) Of course,
- Boswell belonged to a good family, and his father was a judge. It was to a
- Duke of Argyll—not the one who was now so obliging—that the
- Laird of Auchinleck brought his son, James Boswell, to be examined in
- order to find out whether he should be put into the army or some other
- profession. Still, he would never have been invited to Inveraray at this
- time or any other unless he had had charge of Johnson. No one was better
- aware of this fact than Boswell; but did he therefore decline the
- invitation? Not he. Mr. Boswell saw an opportunity ahead of him. He had
- more than once heard Johnson give an account of how he had behaved when
- the King came upon him in the Royal Library; and probably he had felt
- melancholy at the reflection that he himself had had no part or lot in the
- incident. It was all Dr. Johnson and the King. But now he was quick to
- perceive that when, in after years, people should speak with bated breath
- of Dr. Johnson's visit to Inveraray they would be compelled to say: “And
- Mr. Boswell, the son of auld Auchinleck, was there too.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He knew very well that there were good reasons why Mr. Boswell could not
- hope to be a <i>persona grata</i> to the Duchess of Argyll. In the great
- Douglas lawsuit the issue of which was of considerable importance to the
- Duke of Hamilton, the son of Her Grace, the Boswells were on the side of
- the opposition, and had been very active on this side into the bargain.
- James Boswell himself narrowly escaped being committed for contempt of
- court for publishing a novel founded on the Douglas cause and anticipating
- in an impudent way the finding of the judges. Had the difference been
- directly with the Duke of Argyll some years earlier, no doubt every man in
- the Clan Campbell would have sharpened his skene when it became known that
- a friend of an opponent of the MacCallein More was coming, and have
- awaited his approach with complacency; but now the great chief tossed
- Boswell his invitation when he was asking Johnson, and Boswell jumped at
- it as a terrier jumps for a biscuit, and he accompanied his friend to the
- Castle.
- </p>
- <p>
- The picture which he paints of his second snubbing is done in his best
- manner. “I was in fine spirits,” he wrote, “and though sensible that I had
- the misfortune of not being in favour with the Duchess, I was not in the
- least disconcerted, and offered Her Grace some of the dish which was
- before me.” Later on he drank Her Grace's health, although, he adds, “I
- knew it was the rule of modern high life not to drink to anybody.” Thus he
- achieved the snub he sought; but he acknowledges that he thought the
- Duchess rather too severe when she said: “I know nothing of Mr. Boswell.”
- On reflection, however, he received “that kind of consolation which a man
- would feel who is strangled by a silken cord.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It seems strange that no great painter has been inspired by the theme and
- the scene. The days of “subject pictures” are, we are frequently told,
- gone by. This may be so, generally speaking, but every one knows that a
- “subject picture,” if its “subject” lends itself in any measure to the
- advertising of an article of commerce, will find a ready purchaser, so
- fine a perception of the aspirations of art—practical art—exists
- in England, and even in Scotland, in the present day.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now, are not the elements of success apparent to any one of imagination in
- this picture of the party sitting round the table in the great hall of
- Inveraray—Dr. Johnson chatting to the beautiful Duchess and her
- daughter at one side, the Duke looking uncomfortable at the other, when he
- sees Mr. Boswell on his feet with his glass in his hand bowing toward Her
- Grace? No doubt Her Grace had acquainted His Grace with the attitude she
- meant to assume in regard to Mi. Boswell, so that he was not astonished—only
- uncomfortable—when Mr. Boswell fished for his snub. Surely
- arrangements could be made between the art patron and the artist to paint
- a name and a certain brand upon the bottle—a bottle must, of course,
- be on the table; but if this is thought too realistic the name could
- easily be put on the decanter—from which Mr. Boswell has just
- replenished his glass! Why, the figure of Dr. Johnson alone should make
- the picture a success—i.e. susceptible of being reproduced as an
- effective poster in four printings. “Sir,” said Dr. Johnson, “claret for
- boys, port for men, but brandy for heroes.” Yes, but whose brandy? There
- is a hint for a great modern art patron—a twentieth-century art
- patron is a man who loves art for what he can make out of it.
- </p>
- <p>
- Dr. Johnson was unmistakably the honoured guest this day at Inveraray; and
- perhaps, while the lovely Duchess hung upon his words of wisdom, his
- memory may have gone back to a day when he was not so well known, and yet
- by some accident found himself in a room with the then Duchess of Argyll.
- Upon that occasion he had thought it due to himself to be rude to the
- great lady, in response to some fancied remissness on her part. He had
- nothing to complain of now. The Duchess with whom he was conversing on
- terms of perfect equality—if Her Grace made any distinction between
- them it was, we may rest assured, only in a way that would be flattering
- to his learning—was at the head of the peerage for beauty, and there
- was no woman in the kingdom more honoured than she had been. He may have
- been among the crowds who hung about the Mall in St. James's Park
- twenty-two years before, waiting patiently until the two lovely Miss
- Gunnings should come forth from their house in Westminster to take the
- air. The Duchess of Argyll was the younger of the two sisters.
- </p>
- <p>
- The story of the capture of the town by the pair of young Irish girls has
- been frequently told, and never without the word <i>romantic</i> being
- applied to it. But really there was very little that can be called
- romantic in the story of their success. There is far more of this element
- in many of the marriages affecting the peerage in these unromantic days.
- There is real romance in the story of a young duke's crossing the Atlantic
- with a single introduction, but that to the daughter of a millionaire with
- whom he falls madly in love and whom he marries as soon as the lawyers can
- make out the settlements. There is real romance in the idyll of the young
- marquis who is fortunate enough to win the affection of an ordinary chorus
- girl; and every year witnesses such-like alliances—they used to be
- called <i>mésalliances</i> long ago. There have also been instances of the
- daughters of English tradesmen marrying foreign nobles, whom they
- sometimes divorce as satisfactorily as if they were the daughters of
- wealthy swindlers on the other side of the Atlantic. In such cases there
- are portraits and paragraphs in some of the newspapers, and then people
- forget that anything unusual has happened. As a matter of fact, nothing
- unusual has happened.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the romantic story of the Gunnings we have no elements of that romance
- which takes the form of a <i>mésalliance</i>. Two girls, the
- granddaughters of one viscount and the nieces of another, came to London
- with their parents one year, and early the next married peers—the
- elder an earl, the younger a duke. Like thousands of other girls, they had
- no money; but, unlike hundreds of other girls who marry into the peerage,
- they were exceptionally good-looking.
- </p>
- <p>
- Where is there an element of romance in all this? The girls wedded men in
- their own station in life, and, considering their good looks, they should
- have done very much better for themselves. The duke was a wretched <i>roué</i>,
- notable for his excesses even in the days when excess was not usually
- regarded as noteworthy. He had ruined his constitution before he was
- twenty, and he remained enfeebled until, in a year or two, he made her a
- widow. The earl was a conceited, ill-mannered prig—a solemn,
- contentious, and self-opinionated person who was deservedly disliked in
- the town as well as the country.
- </p>
- <p>
- Not a very brilliant marriage either of these. With the modern chorus girl
- the earl is on his knees at one side, and the gas man on the other. But
- with the Miss Gunnings it was either one peer or another. They were
- connected on their mother's side with at least two families of nobility,
- and on their father's side with the spiritual aristocracy of some
- generations back: they were collateral descendants of the great Peter
- Gunning, Chancellor of Oxford and Bishop of Ely, and he was able to trace
- his lineage back to the time of Henry VIII. From a brother of this great
- man was directly descended the father of the two girls and also Sir Robert
- Gunning, Baronet, who held such a high post in the diplomatic service as
- Minister Plenipotentiary to Berlin, and afterwards to St. Petersburg.
- Members of such families might marry into the highest order of the peerage
- without the alliance being criticised as “romantic.” The girls did not do
- particularly well for themselves. They were by birth entitled to the best,
- and by beauty to the best of the best. As it was, the one only became the
- wife of a contemptible duke, the other of a ridiculous earl. It may really
- be said that they threw themselves away.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course, it was Walpole's gossip that is accountable for much of the
- false impression which prevailed in respect of the Gunnings. From the
- first he did his best to disparage them. He wrote to Mann that they were
- penniless, and “scarce gentlewomen.” He could not ignore the fact that
- their mother was the Honourable Bridget Gunning; but, without knowing
- anything of the matter, he undertook to write about the “inferior tap” on
- their father's side. In every letter that he wrote at this time he tried
- to throw ridicule upon them, alluding to them as if they were nothing
- better than the barefooted colleens of an Irish mountain-side who had come
- to London to seek their fortunes. As usual, he made all his letters
- interesting to his correspondents by introducing the latest stories
- respecting them; he may not have invented all of these, but some
- undoubtedly bear the Strawberry Hill mark, and we know that Walpole never
- suppressed a good tale simply because it possessed no grain of truth.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now, the true story of the Gunnings can be ascertained without any
- reference to Walpole's correspondence. Both girls were born in England—the
- elder, Maria, in 1731, the younger in 1732. When they were still young
- their father, a member of the English Bar, inherited his brother's Irish
- property. It had once been described as a “tidy estate,” but it was now in
- a condition of great untidiness. In this respect it did not differ
- materially from the great majority of estates in Ireland. Ever since the
- last “settlement” the country had been in a most unsettled condition, and
- no part of it was worse than the County Roscommon, where Castle Coote, the
- residence of the Gunning family, was situated. It might perhaps be going
- too far to say that the wilds of Connaught were as bad as the wilds of
- Yorkshire at the same date, but from all the information that can be
- gathered on the subject there does not seem to have been very much to
- choose between Roscommon and the wilder parts of Yorkshire. The peasantry
- were little better than savages; the gentry were little worse. Few of the
- elements of civilized life were to be found among the inhabitants. The
- nominal owners of the land were content to receive tribute from their
- tenantry in the form of the necessaries of life, for money as a standard
- of exchange was rarely available. Even in the present day in many
- districts in the west of Ireland cattle occupy the same place in the
- imagination of the inhabitants as they do in Zululand. The Irish bride is
- bargained away with so many cows; and for a man to say—as one did in
- the very county of Roscommon the other day—that he never could see
- the difference of two cows between one girl and another, may be reckoned
- somewhat cynical, but it certainly is intelligible.
- </p>
- <p>
- But if rent was owing—and it usually was—and if it was not
- paid in the form of geese, or eggs, or pork, or some other products of low
- farming and laziness, it remained unpaid; for the landlord had no means of
- enforcing his claims by any law except the law of the jungle. He might
- muster his followers and plunder his debtors, and no doubt this system of
- rent-collecting prevailed for several years after one of the many
- “settlements” of the country had taken place, yet by intermarriage with
- the natives, and a general assimilation to their condition of life by the
- newcomers, these raids for rent became unpopular and impracticable. The
- consequence was that the landlords—such as remained on their estates—were
- living from hand to mouth.
- </p>
- <p>
- But if the fact that the King's writ failed to run in these parts was of
- disadvantage to the landlords in one respect, it was of no inconsiderable
- advantage to them in another; for it enabled them with a light heart to
- contract debts in Dublin and in the chief towns. They knew that the
- rascally process server, should he have the hardihood to make any attempt
- to present them with the usual summons, would do so at the risk of his
- life; and a knowledge of this fact made the “gentry” at once reckless and
- lawless. The consequence was that Ireland was regarded as no place for a
- man with any respect for his neighbours or for himself to live in. It
- became the country of the agent and the squireen.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was to one of the worst parts of this country that John Gunning brought
- his wife and four children—the eldest was eight years and the
- youngest three months—and here he tried to support them off the
- “estate.” He might possibly have succeeded if his aspirations had been
- humble and his property unencumbered. It so happened, however, that his
- father had been the parent of sixteen children, and the estate was still
- charged with the maintenance of ten of these. Thus hampered, Mr. Gunning
- and the Honourable Bridget Gunning were compelled to adopt the mode of
- life of the other gentry who were too poor to live out of Ireland, and
- they allowed the education of their family to become a minor consideration
- to that of feeding them.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Gunning and his wife were undoubtedly the originals of the type of
- Irish lady and gentleman to be found in so many novels and plays of the
- latter part of the eighteenth and the first half of the nineteenth
- centuries. He was the original “heavy father” who, with the addition of a
- ridiculous nondescript brogue, was so effectively dealt with by numerous
- writers until Thackeray took him in hand; and Mrs. Gunning was the first
- of the tradition of Irish mothers with daughters to dispose of by the aid
- of grand manners and a great deal of contriving. True to this tradition,
- which originated with them, the lady was certainly the head of the
- household—a sorry household it must have been at Castle Coote—during
- the ten years that elapsed before the migration to England.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Gunning was a fine figure of a gentleman, a handsome, loquacious
- person with a great sense of his own dignity and an everlasting
- consciousness of the necessity to maintain it at something approximate to
- its proper level, and, like other persons of the same stamp, never
- particularly successful in the means employed to effect this object. It is
- doubtful if a loud conversational style, with repeated references to the
- brilliant past of his family and predictions as to the still more
- brilliant future that would have been achieved by its representative but
- for the outrageous fortune that flung him into the bogs of Roscommon,
- produced a more vivid impression upon his associates in Ireland than it
- would be likely to do among a more credulous community. In Ireland he
- resembled the young gentleman who went to educate the French, but was
- discouraged at the outset when he found that even the children in the
- streets spoke better French than he did. Mr. Gunning could teach the Irish
- squireens nothing in the way of boasting; and he soon found that they were
- capable of giving him some valuable instruction as to the acquiring of
- creditors and their subsequent evasion. Whatever their educational
- deficiencies may have been, it must be admitted that they had mastered
- these arts. Much as he despised his ancestral home, he found, after
- repeated visits to Dublin, that his heart was, after all, in Castle Coote,
- and that, for avoiding arrest for debt, there was no place like home.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Honourable Mrs. Gunning must have become dreadfully tired of this
- florid person and of the constant worry incidental to the control of such
- a household as his must have been. Her life must have been spent
- contriving how the recurrent crises could be averted, and so long as she
- was content to remain in the seclusion of the Irish village her efforts
- were successful. We do not hear that the bailiffs ever got so far as the
- hall door of their ramshackle mansion; there was a bog very handy, and the
- holes which served as a rudimentary system of natural drainage were both
- deep and dark. The topography of the district was notoriously puzzling to
- the officers from the Dublin courts.
- </p>
- <p>
- But with all her success in this direction one maybe pretty sure that her
- life must have been very burthensome to the Honourable Mrs. Gunning. She
- had social ambitions, as befitted a daughter of a noble house, and on this
- account she never allowed herself to sink to the level of the wives of the
- squireens around her, who were quite content with the rude jollity of an
- Irish household—with the “lashings and leavings” to eat, and with
- the use of tumblers instead of wineglasses at table. She was the daughter
- of a peer, and she never forgot this fact; and here it must be mentioned
- that, however culpably she may have neglected the education of her
- children in some respects, she took care that they avoided the provincial
- brogue of their Irish neighbours.
- </p>
- <p>
- Perhaps it was because Walpole knew nothing of the tradition of the
- English settlers in Ireland that he referred in his letters to various
- correspondents to the appalling brogue of both the Gunning girls; or
- perhaps he, as usual, aimed only at making his correspondence more amusing
- by this device. But every one who knows something of the “settlements” is
- aware of the fact that the new-comers had such a contempt for the native
- way of pronouncing English that they were most strenuous in their efforts
- to hand down to their children the tradition of pronunciation which they
- brought into the country. They were not always so successful as they
- wished to be; but within our own times the aspiration after a pure
- “English accent” is so great that even in the National Schools the
- teachers, the larger number of whom bear Celtic names, have been most
- industrious both in getting rid of their native brogue and in compelling
- their pupils to do the same; and yet it is certain that people have been
- much more tolerant in this respect in Ireland during the past half-century
- than they were a hundred years earlier.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course, a scientific analysis of the pronunciation of the English
- language by, say, a native of the wilds of Yorkshire and by a native of
- the wilds of Connemara would reveal the fact that fewer corruptions of the
- speech are habitual to the latter than to the former, the “brogue” being
- far less corrupt than the “burr.” It was not enough for the settlers,
- however, that their children should speak English in Ireland more
- correctly than their forefathers did in England; they insisted on the
- maintenance of the English tradition of pronunciation, erroneous though it
- might be. So that the suggestion that the daughters of the Gunning family,
- who had never heard English spoken with the brogue of the native Irish
- until they were eight or nine years of age, spoke the tongue of the stage
- Irish peasant would seem quite ridiculous to any one who had given even
- the smallest amount of study to the conditions of speech prevailing in
- Ireland even in the present tolerant age, when employment is not denied to
- any one speaking with the broadest of brogues. Some years ago such an
- applicant would have had no chance of a “billet”—unless, in a
- literal sense, to hew, with the alternative of the drawing of water.
- </p>
- <p>
- The truth, then, is that the Gunning girls had practically neither more
- nor less of that form of education to be acquired from the study of books
- or “lessons” than the average young woman of their own day who had been
- “neglected.” Between the years 1750 and 1800 there were in England
- hundreds of young ladies who were as highly educated as a junior-grade
- lady clerk in the Post Office Department is to-day; but there were also
- thousands who were as illiterate as the Gunnings without any one thinking
- that it mattered much one way or another.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0007" id="linkimage-0007"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0139.jpg" alt="0139 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0139.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- And it really did not matter much that Maria Gunning spelt as vaguely as
- did Shakespere, or Shakspere, or Shakespeare, or Shakspear, or whatever he
- chose to write himself at the moment. Correctness of orthography is
- absolutely necessary for any young lady who wishes to be a success in the
- Postal Department, but Miss Gunning possessed some qualifications of
- infinitely greater importance in the estimation of the world. She was of
- good family and she was beautiful exceedingly. Moreover, she possessed the
- supreme grace of naturalness—the supreme grace and that which
- includes all other graces, which, like butterflies, hover over womankind,
- but seldom descend in a bevy upon any one of the race. She was as natural
- as a lily flower, and for the same reason. To be natural il came to her by
- Nature, and that was how she won the admiration of more people than the
- beauty of Helen of Troy brought to their death. She was not wise. But had
- she been wise she would never have left Ireland. She would have known that
- obscurity is the best friend that any young woman so beautiful as she was
- could have. She would have remained in Roscommon, and she would have been
- one of those women who are happy because they have no story. But, of
- course, had she been wise she would not have been natural, and so there
- her beauty goes by the board in a moment.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Honourable Mrs. Gunning could not have been startled when the
- knowledge came to her that she was the mother of two girls of exceptional
- beauty. The same knowledge comes to every mother of two girls in the
- world, though this knowledge is sometimes withheld from the rest of the
- world; but even then the mother's faith is not shaken—except in
- regard to the eyesight of the rest of the world. Doubtless Mrs. Gunning
- thought much better of Ireland when she found that her judgment on the
- beauty of her daughters was shared by all the people who saw the girls.
- From the daily exclamation of wonder—the exaggerated expressions of
- appreciation uttered by a fervent peasantry—when the girls were seen
- in their own kitchen or on the roadside, the mother's ambition must have
- received a fresh stimulus. And given an ambitious mother, whose life has
- been one of contriving to do things that seem out of her power to
- accomplish, the achievement of her object is only a matter of time—provided
- that the father does not become an obstruction. Mrs. Gunning was not
- extravagant in her longings. Her Delectable Mountains were those which
- surround the City of Dublin. Her social ambitions did not extend beyond
- “The Castle.”
- </p>
- <p>
- When the eldest of her three daughters was scarcely nineteen the
- aggregation of savings and credit—the latter predominant—seemed
- sufficient to justify the expedition. A house was taken in a fashionable
- street, close to the most splendid Mall in Europe, and furnished by some
- credulous tradesmen, and the social campaign was begun by a parade of the
- two girls and their mother. Alas! the young beauties attracted only too
- much attention. The inquiries as to their style and title were
- unfortunately not limited. In Dublin for generations the tradespeople have
- been accustomed to take an intelligent and quite intelligible interest in
- the aristocracy and beauty dwelling in their midst; and it took only a few
- days for the report to go round that the exquisite young ladies were the
- daughters of Mr. John Gunning, of Castle Coote.
- </p>
- <p>
- This information meant much more to some of the least desirable of the
- inquirers than it did to the wealthy and well connected of the population;
- and among the least desirable of all were some tradesmen who for years had
- had decrees waiting to be executed against Mr. Gunning at a more
- convenient place for such services than Castle Coote. The result was that
- within a week the beauty of his daughters had made such a stir in Dublin
- that bailiffs were in the house and Mr. Gunning was out of it.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is at this point in the history that the Troubadour unslings his lute,
- feeling the potentialities of Romance in the air; and, given the
- potentialities of Romance and the wandering minstrel, one may be sure that
- the atmosphere will resound with Romance. We are told on such high
- authority as is regarded quite satisfactory (by the Troubadour), that the
- weeping of the mother and the beautiful girls under the coarse stare of
- the bailiffs attracted the attention of a charming and sympathetic young
- actress who was taking the air in the street, and that, as might only be
- expected, she hastened to enter the house to offer consolation to those
- who were in trouble—this being unquestionably the mission which is
- most congenial to the spirit of the <i>soubrette</i>. On being at once
- informed of all by the communicative mother—the Troubadour is not
- such a fool as to lay down his lute to inquire if it was likely that a
- lady who possessed her full share of Irish pride would open her heart to a
- stranger and an actress—the young visitor showed her sympathy by
- laying herself open to prosecution and imprisonment through helping in a
- scheme to make away with all the valuables she could lay her hands on. But
- she went still further, and invited the young ladies to stay at her house
- so long as it suited them to do so.
- </p>
- <p>
- We are told that this young actress was George Ann Bellamy, but the
- information comes from no better source than George Ann Bellamy herself,
- and the statements of this young person, made when she was no longer young
- or reputable, do not carry conviction to all hearers. Romance, however,
- like youth, will not be denied, though the accuracy of an actress may, and
- people have always been pleased to believe that Miss Bellamy and Mr.
- Thomas Sheridan, the much-harassed lessee of the Smock Alley Theatre in
- Dublin, were the means of obtaining for the Honourable Mrs. Gunning and
- her daughters the invitation to the ball at the Castle which resulted in
- the recognition of the girls' beauty by the great world of fashion. The
- suggestion that their aunt, Miss Bourke, or their uncle, Viscount Mayo,
- might have been quite as potent a factor in solving the problem of how the
- invitation to a ball given by the Viceroy to the people of Dublin came
- into the hands of the Miss Gunnings, may, however, be worth a moment's
- consideration.
- </p>
- <p>
- At any rate, the success made by the girls upon this occasion was
- immediate. Before a day had passed all Dublin and Dublin Castle were
- talking of their beauty, and the splendid Mall was crowded with people
- anxious to catch a glimpse of the lovely pair when they took their walks
- abroad. Lady Caroline Petersham, the charming lady whose name figures
- frequently in Walpole's correspondence—it will be remembered that
- she was one of that delightful little supper party at Ranelagh which he
- describes—was in the entourage of the Viceroy, and quickly perceived
- the possibilities of social prestige accruing to the hostess who might be
- the means of introducing them to St. James's. There a new face meant a new
- sensation lasting sometimes well into a second month, and Lady Caroline
- had her ambitions as a hostess.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was the Gunnings' best friend—assuming that social advancement
- is an act of friendship—and it may safely be assumed that she was
- mainly responsible for the extension of the area of the campaign entered
- on by Mrs. Gunning, and that it was her influence which obtained for them
- the passage to Chester in the Lord Lieutenant's yacht, and a bonus of £150
- charged, as so many other jobs were, “upon the Irish Establishment.” The
- “Irish Establishment” was the convenient Treasury out of which money could
- be paid without the chance of unpleasant questions being asked in
- Parliament respecting such disbursements.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course, it is not to be believed that such success as the young girls
- encompassed in Dublin was reached without a word or two of detraction
- being heard in regard to their behaviour. Mrs. Delany, amiable as a moral
- gossip, or perhaps, a gossipy moralist, wrote to her sister respecting
- them: “All that you have heard of the Gunnings is true, except their
- having a fortune, but I am afraid they have a greater want than that,
- which is discretion.” No doubt Mrs. Delany had heard certain whispers of
- the girlish fun in which the elder of the sisters delighted; but there has
- never been the smallest suggestion that her want of discreetness ever
- approached an actual indiscretion. It may be assumed, without doing an
- injustice to either of the girls, that their standard of demeanour was not
- quite so elevated as that which the wife of Dean Delany was disposed to
- regard as essential to be reached by any young woman hoping to be thought
- well of by her pastors and masters. But the steelyard measure was never
- meant to be applied to a high-spirited young girl who has grown up among
- bogs and then finds herself the centre of the most distinguished circle in
- the land, every person in which is eagerly striving for the distinction of
- a word from her lips. Maria Gunning may not have had much discretion, but
- she had enough to serve her turn. She arrived in London with her sister,
- and no suggestion was ever made—even by Walpole—that their
- mother had not taken enough care of them.
- </p>
- <p>
- In London they at once found their place in the centre of the most
- fashionable—the most notorious—set; but while we hear of the
- many indiscreet things that were done by certain of their associates,
- nothing worse is attributed to either of the girls than an Irish brogue or
- an Irish idiom—perhaps a word or two that sounded unmusical to
- fastidious ears. Walpole began by ridiculing them, and, as has already
- been noted, sneering at their birth; but when he found they were becoming
- the greatest social success that his long day had known, he thought it
- prudent to trim his sails and refer to them more reasonably: they were
- acquiring too many friends for it to be discreet for him to continue
- inventing gossip respecting them.
- </p>
- <p>
- But what a triumph they achieved in town! Nothing had ever been known like
- it in England, nor has anything approaching to it been known during the
- century and a half that has elapsed since the beauty of these two girls
- captured London. The opening of Parliament by the King in State never
- attracted such crowds as thronged the Park when they walked in the Mall.
- Never before had the guards to turn out at the Palace to disperse the
- crowds who mobbed two young ladies who did not belong—except in a
- distant way—to a Royal House. Upon one occasion the young Lord
- Clermont and his friend were compelled to draw their swords to protect
- them from the exuberant attentions of the crowd. “'Tis a warm day,” wrote
- George Selwyn to Lord Carlisle, “and some one proposes a stroll to Betty's
- fruit shop; suddenly the cry is raised, 'The Gunnings are coming,' and we
- all tumble out to gaze and to criticise.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The famous beauties are more talked of than the change in the Ministry,”
- wrote Walpole. “They make more noise than any one of their predecessors
- since Helen of Troy; a crowd follows them wherever they walk, and at
- Vauxhall they were driven away.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This mobbing must have caused the girls much delightful inconvenience, and
- one can see their mother acting the part—and overdoing it, after the
- manner of her kind—of the distracted parent whose daughters have
- just been restored to her arms. One can hear the grandiloquent thanks of
- the father to the eligible young man with titles whose bravery has
- protected his offspring—that would have been his word—from the
- violence of the mob. The parents must have been very trying to the young
- men in those days. But the mother showed herself to be rather more than a
- match for one young man who hoped to win great fame as a jocular fellow by
- playing a trick upon the family. Having heard of the simplicity and
- credulousness of the girls, this gentleman, with another of his kind,
- asked leave of Mrs. Gunning to bring to her house a certain duke who was
- one of the greatest <i>partis</i> of the day. On her complying, he hired a
- common man, and, dressing him splendidly, conveyed him in a coach to the
- Gunnings' house and presented him to the family as the duke. But the man
- knew as little of the matter as did Walpole; he assumed that she was
- nothing more than the adventurous wife of an Irish squireen. He soon found
- out that he had made a mistake. Mrs. Gunning rang the bell, and ordered
- the footman to turn the visitors out of the house. But the family were
- soon consoled for this incident of the impostor duke by the arrival of a
- real one, to say nothing of another consolation prize in the form of an
- earl. In the meantime, however, their popularity-had been increasing
- rather than diminishing. As a matter of fact, although beauty may be
- reproached for being only skin deep, it is very tenacious of life. A
- reputation for beauty is perhaps the most enduring of all forms of
- notoriety. The renown that attaches to the man who has painted a great
- picture, or to one who has made a great scientific discovery, or to one
- who has been an eminent churchman or a distinguished statesman, is, in
- point of popularity and longevity, quite insignificant in comparison with
- that which is associated with the name of a very beautiful woman. The
- crowds still surrounded the Miss Gunnings, and the visit which they paid
- by command to King George II gave them a position in the world of fashion
- that was consolidated by the report of the charming <i>naivete</i> of the
- reply made by Maria when the King inquired if they had seen all the sights
- of London and if there was any in particular which they would like to be
- shown. “Oh, I should dearly like to see a coronation!” the girl is said to
- have cried. And as that was just the sight for which the people of England
- were most eager, she was acclaimed as their mouthpiece.
- </p>
- <p>
- So they progressed in the career that had been laid out for them. Duels
- were fought about them, and bets were made about them and their future.
- For nearly a year there was no topic of the first order save only the
- Progress of Beauty. The Duke had come boldly forward. He was a double duke—his
- titles were Hamilton and Brandon—and he had sounded such depths of
- depravity that he was possibly sincere in his desire to convince the world
- that his taste in one direction had not become depraved. Elizabeth Gunning
- may have accepted his service from a hope of being the means of reforming
- him. But even if she were not to succeed in doing so, her mother would
- have reminded her that her failure would not make her the less a duchess.
- It is open, however, for one to believe that this girl cared something for
- the man and was anxious to amend his life.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then we hear of her being with him at Lord Chesterfield's ball given at
- the opening of his new mansion, her fancy dress being that of a Quakeress.
- Three days later the world in which they lived awoke to learn the
- astounding news that the Duke of Hamilton and Brandon had married
- Elizabeth Gunning the previous night.
- </p>
- <p>
- Here was romance beyond a precedent; and Walpole romanced about it as
- usual. In his account of the nuptials he succeeds in making more
- misstatements than one would believe it possible even for such a worker in
- the art to encompass in half a dozen lines. “When her mother and sister
- were at Bedford House,” he wrote to Mann, “a sudden ardour, either of wine
- or love, seized upon him (the Duke); a parson was promptly sent for, but
- on arriving, refused to officiate without the important essentials of
- licence or ring. The Duke swore and talked of calling in the Archbishop.
- Finally the parson's scruples gave way, the licence was overlooked, and
- the lack of the traditional gold ring was supplied by the ring of a bed
- curtain!”
- </p>
- <p>
- This is very amusing, but it is not history. It is a clumsy fiction,
- unworthy of the resources of the inventor. Sir Horace Mann must have felt
- that his friend had a poor opinion of his intelligence if he meant him to
- accept the assurance that the household of the Gunnings and the fingers of
- His Grace were incapable of yielding to the fastidious parson a better
- substitute for the traditional gold ring than the thing he introduced. The
- facts of the incident were quite romantic enough without the need for
- Walpole's embellishments. It was Valentine's Day, and what more likely
- than that the suggestion should be made by the ardent lover that so
- appropriate a date for a wedding would not come round for another year! To
- suggest difficulties—impossibility—would only be to spur him
- on to show that he was a true lover. However this may be, it has long ago
- been proved that the midnight marriage took place in due form at the
- Curzon Street Chapel in the presence of several witnesses.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then Walpole went on to say that the wedding of Lord Coventry and the
- elder sister took place at the same time. It so happened, however, that a
- fortnight elapsed between the two ceremonies, and in the case of the
- second, the ceremony took place in the full light of day.
- </p>
- <p>
- The subsequent history of the two ladies is not without a note of
- melancholy. The elder, pursued to the end by the malevolent slanders of
- the man with the leer of the satyr perpetually on his face, died of
- consumption after eight years of wedded life. The younger became a widow
- two years earlier, and after being wooed by the Duke of Bridgewater, whom
- she refused, sending him to his canal for consolation, married Colonel
- Campbell, who in 1770 became the Fifth Duke of Argyll. Six years later she
- was created a peeress in her own right, her title being Baroness Hamilton
- of Hameldon in Leicestershire. In 1778 she was appointed Mistress of the
- Robes. She attained to the additional distinction of making the good Queen
- jealous, so that Her Majesty upon one occasion overlooked her in favour of
- Lady Egremont. The Duchess at once resigned, and only with difficulty was
- persuaded to withdraw her resignation. She died in 1790.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- THE FÊTE-CHAMPÊTRE
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>O one knows to-day
- with whom the idea of having an English <i>fête-champêtre</i> at The Oaks
- upon the occasion of the marriage of the young Lord Stanley to Lady Betty
- Hamilton originated. The secret was well kept; and it can be easily
- understood that in case of this innovation proving a fiasco, no one would
- show any particular desire to accept the responsibility of having started
- the idea. But turning out as it did, a great success, it might have been
- expected that many notable persons would lay claim to be regarded as its
- parents. A considerable number of distinguished people had something to do
- with it, and any one of them had certainly sufficient imagination, backed
- up by an acquaintance with some of the exquisite pieces of MM. Watteau and
- Fragonard, to suggest the possibility of perfecting such an enterprise
- even in an English June. It was the most diligent letter-writer of that
- age of letter-writing who had referred to the “summer setting in with its
- customary severity,” so that the trifling of the month of June with the
- assumption of the poets who have rhymed of its sunshine with rapture, was
- not an experience that was reserved for the century that followed. But in
- spite of this, the idea of a <i>fête-champêtre</i>, after the most
- approved French traditions, in an English demesne found favour in the eyes
- of Lord Stanley and his advisers, and the latter were determined that,
- whatever price might have to be paid for it, they would not run the chance
- of being blamed for carrying it out in a niggardly spirit.
- </p>
- <p>
- The young Lord Stanley had as many advisers as any young nobleman with a
- large immediate allowance and prospects of a splendid inheritance may hope
- to secure. There was his <i>fiancée's</i> mother, now the Duchess of
- Argyll, who was never disposed to frown down an undertaking that would
- place a member of one of her families in the forefront of the battle of
- the beauties for the most desirable <i>parti</i> of the year.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0008" id="linkimage-0008"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0155.jpg" alt="0155 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0155.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- The Duchess had both taste and imagination, so that people called her an
- Irishwoman, although she was born in England. Then there was Mr. George
- Selwyn, who said witty things occasionally and never missed a hanging. He
- was fully qualified to prompt a wealthy companion as to the best means to
- become notorious for a day. There was also young Mr. Conway, the gentleman
- who originated the diverting spectacle when Mrs. Baddeley and Mrs.
- Abington were escorted to the Pantheon. Any one of these, to say nothing
- of Lady Betty herself, who had some love for display, might have been
- inclined to trust an English June so far as to believe an <i>al fresco</i>
- entertainment on a splendid scale quite possible.
- </p>
- <p>
- On the whole, however, one is inclined to believe that it was Colonel
- Burgoyne who was responsible for the whole scheme at The Oaks. In addition
- to having become Lord Stanley's uncle by running away with his father's
- sister, he was a budding dramatist, and as such must have perceived his
- opportunity for exploiting himself at the expense of some one else—the
- dream of every budding dramatist. There is every likelihood that it was
- this highly accomplished and successful “gentleman-adventurer” who brought
- Lord Stanley up to the point of embarking upon his design for an
- entertainment such as had never been seen in England before—an
- entertainment that should include the production of a masque devised by
- Colonel Burgoyne and entitled <i>The Maid of The Oaks</i>. The fête came
- off, and it was pronounced the most brilliant success of the year 1774.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lord Stanley was a very interesting young man; that is to say, he was a
- young man in whom no inconsiderable number of persons—mainly of the
- opposite sex—were greatly interested. Of this fact he seems to have
- been fully aware. A good many people—mainly of the opposite sex—felt
- very strongly on the subject of his marrying: it was quite time that he
- married, they said. His grandfather, the Earl of Derby, was eighty-four
- years of age, and it would be absurd to believe that he could live much
- longer. Lord Stanley being his heir, it was agreed that it was the young
- man's duty not to procrastinate in the matter of marriage. It is always
- understood that a patriarchal nobleman sings “<i>Nunc dimittis</i>” when
- he holds in his arms the second in direct succession to the title, and
- this happy consummation could, in the case of the aged Lord Derby, only be
- realised by the marriage of Lord Stanley.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was small in stature, and extremely plain of countenance; still this
- did not prevent his name from being coupled with that of several notable—but
- not too notable—young women of his acquaintance. But as it was well
- known that he was greatly interested in the stage, it was thought that,
- perhaps, he might not be so complaisant as his best friends hoped to find
- him in regard to marrying. An ardent interest in the progress of the
- drama, especially in its lighter forms, has been known to turn a young
- man's attention from marriage, when it does not do what is far worse—turn
- his attention to it with too great zest. Before long, however, it became
- apparent that his lordship recognised in what direction his duty lay.
- There was a young lady connected with the Ducal House of Bedford—a
- niece of that old Duchess who played so conspicuous a part in the social
- and political history of the middle of the eighteenth century—and to
- her Lord Stanley became devoted. But just when every one assumed that the
- matter was settled, no one thinking it possible that the young lady would
- be mad enough to refuse such a <i>parti</i>, the news came that she had
- done so; and before people had done discussing how very eccentric were the
- Bedford connections, the announcement was made that Lord Stanley was to
- marry Lady Betty Hamilton, the beautiful daughter of a beautiful mother,
- the Duchess of Argyll.
- </p>
- <p>
- There is in existence a letter written by the Duchess to Sir William
- Hamilton, in which she hints that Lord Stanley was an old suitor for the
- hand of her daughter. “Lady Betty might have taken the name of Stanley
- long ago if she had chose it,” she wrote, adding: “A very sincere
- attachment on his side has at last produced the same on hers.” This being
- so, it would perhaps be unsafe to assume that Lord Stanley proposed to
- Lady Betty out of pique at having been rejected by the other lady, though
- one might be disposed to take this view of the engagement.
- </p>
- <p>
- The alternative view is that Lady Betty had been advised by her
- accomplished mother that if she played her cards well there was no reason
- why she should not so attract Lord Stanley as to lead him to be a suitor
- for her hand, and that the girl at last came to see that the idea was
- worth her consideration. Her portrait, painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds in
- the year of her marriage, shows her to have been a graceful, girlish young
- creature; but her beauty could never have been comparable with that of her
- mother at the same age, or with that of her aunt, Lady Coventry, whom it
- is certain she closely resembled in character. Her mother, in her letter
- to Sir William Hamilton, apologises in a way for her liveliness, assuring
- him that such a disposition was not incompatible with serious thought upon
- occasions; and this gives us a hint that the reputation for vivacity which
- she always enjoyed was closely akin to that which made the life of Lady
- Coventry so very serious.
- </p>
- <p>
- This was the young lady in whose honour the first English <i>fête
- champêtre</i> was organised. To be more exact, or to get more into touch
- with the view of the Derby family, perhaps one should say that the <i>fête</i>
- was set on foot in consideration of the honour the young lady was doing
- herself in becoming a member of the great house of Stanley. Different
- people look at a question of honour from different standpoints. Probably
- Colonel Burgoyne, although a member of the Derby family by marriage, left
- honour out of the question altogether, and only thought of his masque
- being produced at his nephew's expense.
- </p>
- <p>
- And produced the masque was, and on a scale as expensive as the most
- ambitious author could desire. It was described, with comments, by all the
- great letter-writers of the time. Walpole has his leer and his sneer at
- its expense (literally). It was to cost no less than £5000, he said, and
- he ventured to suppose that in order to account for this enormous outlay
- Lord Stanley had bought up all the orange trees near London—no
- particular extravagance one would fancy—and that the hay-cocks would
- be of straw-coloured riband. George Selwyn thought it far from diverting.
- The Dowager Lady Gower affirmed that “all the world was there,” only she
- makes an exception of her relations the Bedfords—she called them
- “the Bloomsbury lot”—and said that the Duchess would not let any of
- them go because Her Grace thought that Lord Stanley should have taken his
- recent rejection by Her Grace's niece more to heart. Lady Betty's
- stepfather, the Duke of Argyll, said that the whole day was so long and
- fatiguing that only Lady Betty could have stood it all.
- </p>
- <p>
- But did Lady Betty stand it all? It was rumoured in the best-informed
- circles that she had broken off the match the next day; and when one
- becomes acquainted with the programme of the day's doings one cannot but
- acknowledge that the rumour was plausible. She probably made an attempt in
- this direction; but on her fiancé's promising never to repeat the offence,
- withdrew her resolution.
- </p>
- <p>
- The famous brothers Adam, whose genius was equally ready to build an
- Adelphi or to design a fanlight, had been commissioned to plan an
- entertainment on the most approved French models and to carry it out on
- the noblest scale, taking care, of course, that the central idea should be
- the masque of <i>The Maid of The Oaks</i>, and these large-minded artists
- accepted the order without demur. The pseudo-classical feeling entered,
- largely through the influence of the Adams, into every form of art at this
- period, though the famous brothers cannot be accused of originating the
- movement. Sir Joshua Reynolds painted his most charming ladies in the
- costume of Greeks, and Angelica Kauffmann depicted many of her early
- English episodes with the personages clad in togas which seemed greatly
- beyond their control. But for that matter every battle piece up to the
- date of Benjamin West's “Death of Wolfe” showed the combatants in
- classical armour; and Dr. Johnson was more than usually loud in his
- protests against the suggestion that a sculptor should put his statues of
- modern men into modern clothing.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the Adams were wise enough to refrain from issuing any order as to the
- costume to be worn by the shepherds and shepherdesses who were to roam the
- mead at The Oaks, Epsom, upon the occasion of this <i>fête champêtre</i>;
- and they were also wise enough to distrust the constancy of an English
- June. The result was (1) a charming medley of costume, though the
- pseudo-pastoral peasants, farmers, gardeners, and shepherds were in the
- majority, and (2) the most interesting part of the entertainments took
- place indoors, the octagonal hall lending itself nobly—when improved
- by Messrs. Adam—to the show. The “transparencies” which constituted
- so important a part of the ordinary birthday celebrations of the time,
- took the form of painted windows, and, later, of a device showing two of
- the conventional torches of Hymen in full blaze, supporting a shield with
- the Oak of the Hamiltons' crest and the usual “gules.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This design occupied the place of the “set piece” which winds up a modern
- display of fireworks and sets the band playing “God save the King.” It
- could not have been brought on until the morning sunlight was flooding the
- landscape outside; for supper was not served until half-past eleven, and
- the company had to witness the representation of an intolerably long
- masque—the second of the day—after supper, with a procession
- of Druids, fauns, cupids, and nymphs, all in suitable, but it is to be
- hoped not traditional, costume.
- </p>
- <p>
- The entertainment began quite early in the afternoon, when there was a
- long procession of shepherds and shepherdesses through the lanes to where
- a pastoral play was produced and syllabub drunk under the trees. But this
- was only an <i>hors d'ouvre</i>; it was not Colonel Burgoyne's
- masterpiece. This was not produced in the open air. Only when further
- refreshments had been served and evening was closing in did the guests,
- who had been sauntering through the sylvan scenes, repair to the great
- hall, which they found superbly decorated and, in fact, remodelled, for
- colonnades after the type of those in the pictures of Claude had been
- built around the great ballroom, the shafts being festooned with roses,
- and the drapery of crimson satin with heavy gold fringes. There were not
- enough windows to make excuses for so much drapery, but this was no
- insuperable obstacle to the artful designers; they so disposed of the
- material as to make it appear that it was the legitimate hanging for six
- windows.
- </p>
- <p>
- For the procession through the colonnades the young host changed his
- costume and his fiancée changed hers. He had appeared as Rubens and she as
- Rubens' wife, from the well-known picture. But now she was dressed as
- Iphigenia. They led the first minuet before supper, and it was thought
- that they looked very fine. No one who has seen the two pictures of the
- scene, for which Zucchi was commissioned, can question this judgment. Lady
- Betty's portrait in one of these panels makes her even more beautiful than
- she appears on Sir Joshua's canvas.
- </p>
- <p>
- With a display of fireworks of a detonating and discomposing type—the
- explosion, it was said, affected the nerves of nearly all the guests—and
- the illumination of the “transparency” already alluded to, this memorable
- fête came to no premature conclusion. Every one was bored to death by so
- much festivity coming all at once. The idea of twelve hours of masques and
- minuets is enough to make one's blood run cold. Its realisation may have
- had this effect upon the heroine of the day, hence the rumour that she
- found she had had enough of the Derby family to last her for the rest of
- her life without marrying the young heir. Unfortunately, however, if this
- was the case, she failed to justify the accuracy of the report; and she
- was married to Lord Stanley on the 23rd of the same month.
- </p>
- <p>
- The union of Maria Gunning with the Earl of Coventry was a miserable one,
- but this of her niece and Lord Stanley was infinitely worse. Lady Betty
- soon found out that she had made a mistake in marrying a man so incapable
- of appreciating her charm of manner as was Lord Stanley. The likelihood is
- that if she had married any other man she would have made the same
- discovery. The vivacity for which her mother apologised to Sir William
- Hamilton was, after her marriage, much more apparent than the
- thoughtfulness which the Duchess assured her correspondent was one of her
- daughter's traits. She showed herself to be appallingly vivacious upon
- more than one occasion. Just at that time there was a vivacious “set” in
- Lady Betty's world, and every member of it seemed striving for leadership.
- Few of the ladies knew exactly where the border line lay between vivacity
- and indiscretion. If Lady Betty was one of the better informed on this
- delicate question of delimitation, all that can be said is that she
- overstepped the line upon several occasions. It is not to be thought that
- her lightness ever bordered into actual vice, but it rarely fell short of
- being indiscreet.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was always being talked about—always having curious escapades,
- none of them quite compromising, but all calculated to make the judicious
- grieve. But it is one thing to be subjected to the censure of the
- judicious and quite another to come before a judicial authority, and it is
- pretty certain that if Lady Derby—her husband succeeded to the title
- two years after his marriage—had incriminated herself, she would
- have been forced to defend a divorce suit.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is, however, likewise certain that for some time she kept hovering like
- a butterfly about the portals of the Court, and a good deal of the bloom
- was blown off her wings by the breath of rumour. She had accepted the
- devotion of the Duke of Dorset, and, considering the number of eyes that
- were upon her and the devotion of His Grace, this was a very dangerous
- thing to do. They were constantly seen together and at all hours. This was
- in the second year of her marriage, but even in the first her desire to
- achieve notoriety by some means made itself apparent. But her escapade
- that was most talked about was really not worthy of the gossip of a Gower.
- She was at a ball at the house of Mrs. Onslow in St. James's Square, and
- her chair not arriving in good time to take her back to Grosvenor Square,
- it was suggested by Lord Lindsay and Mr. Storer that they should borrow
- Mrs. Onslow's chair and carry her between them to her home. She agreed to
- this gallant proposal, and off they set together. The young men bore her
- to her very door in spite of the fact that they had met her own chair soon
- after they had left Mrs. Onslow's porch.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was surely not much of an escapade in this transaction. The truth
- was probably that the chair did not arrive owing to the condition of the
- bearers, and when the young gentlemen met it they refused to jeopardise
- the safety of the lady by transferring her from Mrs. Onslow's chair to her
- own.
- </p>
- <p>
- Rumour, however, was only too anxious to put the worst construction upon
- every act of the merry Countess, and it was doubtless because of this, and
- of her own knowledge of her daughter's thoughtlessness, that the Duchess
- of Argyll appeared upon the scene and endeavoured by her presence and
- advice to avert the catastrophe that seemed imminent. The Duchess insisted
- on accompanying her to every entertainment, and succeeded in keeping a
- watchful eye on her, though the Duke, who was at Inveraray, and was
- doubtless tired of hearing of the vivacity of his stepdaughter, wrote
- rather peremptorily for Her Grace to return to Scotland. She did not obey
- the summons, the fact being that she was devoted to this daughter of hers,
- who must have daily reminded her of her own sister Maria, to whom she had
- been so deeply attached. *
- </p>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
- * It was said that she had refused the offer of the Duke of
- Bridgewater, because of his suggestion that she should break
- off all intercourse with Lady Coventry.
-</pre>
- <p>
- Seeing, however, that she could not continue to look after this lively
- young matron, and being well aware of the fact that Lord Derby would never
- consent to live with her again, the Duchess could do no more than condone
- the separation which was inevitable. The deed was drawn up in 1779, five
- years after Lady Betty had been so inauspiciously bored by the <i>fête
- champêtre</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0009" id="linkimage-0009"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0171.jpg" alt="0171 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0171.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- In the meantime there was a good deal of talk about the Earl of Derby
- himself. A young nobleman who takes a lively, or even a grave, interest in
- the personnel of the theatre is occasionally made the subject of vulgar
- gossip. Lord Derby had a reputation as an amateur actor, and he seemed to
- think that it would be increased by association with professional
- actresses. It is doubtful if he was justified in his views on this
- delicate question. At any rate, rightly or wrongly, on his estrangement
- from his wife, but two years before the final separation, he showed a
- greater devotion than ever to dramatic performances and dramatic
- performers. His uncle by marriage, now General Burgoyne, had written a
- play that turned out an extraordinary success. This was <i>The Heiress</i>,
- and it had received extravagant praise in many influential quarters. It
- was while it was still being talked of in society that a company of
- distinguished amateurs undertook to produce it at Richmond House, in
- Whitehall Place. In order that the representation might be as perfect as
- possible, the Duchess of Richmond engaged the actress who had taken the
- chief part in the original production, to superintend the rehearsals of
- her amateurs. Miss Farren was a young person of considerable beauty, and
- more even than an actress's share of discretion. She was in George
- Colman's company at the Haymarket, and was rapidly taking the place of
- Mrs. Abington in the affections of playgoers. She was the daughter of a
- surgeon in a small way—he may have been one of the barber surgeons
- of the eighteenth century. Marrying an actress (also in a small way), he
- adopted the stage as a profession, and became a strolling actor-manager,
- whenever he got the chance, and died before his drinking habits had quite
- demoralised his family.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Farren was a wise woman—wise enough to know that she was a bad
- actress, but that there were possibilities in her two daughters. It was
- after only a brief season of probation that Colman engaged one of the
- girls to do small parts, promoting her in an emergency to be a
- “principal.” Miss Farren proved herself capable of making the most of her
- opportunity, and the result was that within a year she was taking Mrs.
- Abington's parts in the best comedies.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her mother was sensible enough to perceive that there was room in the best
- society for an actress of ability as well as respectability—up to
- that time the two qualities had seldom been found associated—and
- Mrs. Farren was right. No whisper had ever been heard against the young
- lady, and a judicious introduction or two brought her into many
- drawing-rooms of those leaders of society who were also respectable, and
- this was of advantage to her not only socially, but professionally. Horace
- Walpole was able to write of her: “In distinction of manner and refinement
- she excelled Mrs. Abington, who could never go beyond Lady Teazle, which
- is a second-rate character.” Again, in a letter to Lady Ossory, he
- ascribed the ability of Miss Farren to the fact that she was accustomed to
- mingle with the best society.
- </p>
- <p>
- This theory of Walpole's has been frequently controverted since his day,
- and now no one will venture to assert that there is really anything in it,
- although it sounds plausible enough. Miss Farren had, however, ample
- opportunity of studying “the real thing” and of profiting by her study.
- She found herself on the most intimate footing with duchesses—not of
- the baser sort like her of Ancaster, or of the eccentric sort like her of
- Bedford, but of the most exalted. The Duchess of Richmond and the Duchess
- of Leinster were among her friends, and thus it was that her appearance at
- the rehearsals of <i>The Heiress</i> of Whitehall Place was not wholly
- professional. Upon this occasion she met Lord Derby and also Charles James
- Fox, the latter having accepted the rather onerous duties of stage
- manager. Before any of the performers were letter perfect in their
- dialogue, Miss Farren had captured the hearts of both these men. Having
- some of the qualities necessary to success as a statesman, including
- caution and an instinct as to the right moment to retire from a contest
- that must end in some one being made a fool of, Mr. Fox soon withdrew from
- a position of rivalry with Lord Derby. It was rumoured by the malicious,
- who had at heart the maintenance of the good name of Miss Farren, that Mr.
- Fox had been dismissed by the lady with great indignation on his making a
- proposition to her that did not quite meet her views in regard to the
- ceremony of marriage. Miss Farren they asserted to be a paragon of virtue,
- and so she undoubtedly was. Her virtue was of the most ostentatious type.
- She would never admit a gentleman to an audience unless some witness of
- her virtue was present. She accepted the devotion of Lord Derby, but gave
- him to understand quite plainly that so long as his wife was alive she
- could only agree to be his <i>fiancée</i>. Truly a very dragon of virtue
- was Miss Farren!
- </p>
- <p>
- The Earl, previous to his meeting the actress, had been a dutiful if not a
- very devoted husband. But as soon as he fell in love with this paragon of
- virtue he became careless, and made no attempt to restrain his wife in her
- thoughtless behaviour. He allowed her to go her own way, and he went his
- way. His way led him almost every evening to the green room at the
- Haymarket and Drury Lane, where Miss Farren was to be found. The
- estrangement between himself and his wife that resulted in the final
- separation was the result not of his infatuation for the actress, but of
- her virtuous acceptance of him as her moral lover. She took care never to
- compromise herself with him or any one else, but she did not mind taking
- the man away from his wife and home in order that she might be accredited
- with occupying an absolutely unique position in the annals of the English
- stage.
- </p>
- <p>
- If Miss Farren had been a little less virtuous and a little more human she
- would run a better chance of obtaining the sympathy of such people as are
- capable of differentiating between a woman's virtue and the virtues of
- womankind. She seemed to think that the sole duty of a woman is to be
- discreet in regard to herself—to give no one a chance of pointings
- finger of scorn at her; and it really seemed as if this was also the creed
- of the noble people with whom she associated. Every one seemed to be so
- paralysed by her propriety as to be incapable of perceiving how
- contemptible a part she was playing. An honest woman, with the instincts
- of goodness and with some sense of her duty, would, the moment a married
- man offers her his devotion, send him pretty quickly about his business.
- The most elementary sense of duty must suggest the adoption of such a
- course of treatment in regard to an illicit admirer. But Miss Farren had
- no such sense. She met the philandering of her lover with smiles and a
- virtuous handshake. She accepted his offer of an adoring friendship for
- the present with a reversion of the position of Countess of Derby on the
- death of the existing holder of the title and its appurtenances; and
- people held her up, and continue to hold her up, as an example of all that
- is virtuous and amiable in life!
- </p>
- <p>
- She was also commended for her patience, as Lord Derby was for his
- constancy. They had both great need of these qualities, for the unhappy
- barrier to their union showed no signs of getting out of their way, either
- by death or divorce. She became strangely discreet, taking, in fact, a
- leaf out of Miss Farren's book of deportment, and never giving her husband
- a chance of freeing himself from the tie that bound him nominally to her.
- It must have been very gratifying to the actress to perceive how effective
- was the example she set to the Countess in regard to the adherence to the
- path of rectitude.
- </p>
- <p>
- What was the exact impression produced upon Lord Derby by all this decorum
- it would be difficult to say. He may have been pleased to discover that he
- was married to a lady to whom his honour was more precious than he had any
- reason or any right to believe it to be. But assuredly a less placid
- gentleman would have found himself wishing now and again that—well,
- that matters had arranged themselves differently.
- </p>
- <p>
- The years went by without bringing about a more satisfactory <i>modus
- vivendi</i> than was in existence when Lord Derby originally offered his
- heart and hand (the latter when it should become vacant) to the actress.
- Lady Derby was in wretched health, but still showed no more inclination to
- die than does a chronic invalid. Miss Farren continued to drive her
- splendid chariot, with its coachmen on the hammer-cloth and its footmen
- clinging on to the straps behind, down to the stage-door of the theatre,
- and to fill the house every night that she played. Her popularity seemed
- to grow with years, and she appeared in a wide range of characters, making
- her audiences accept as correct her reading of every part, though the best
- critics—Walpole was about the worst—of her art had a good deal
- to say that was not quite favourable to her style. Only once, however, did
- she make a flagrant error on the stage, and this was when she was
- misguided enough to put on men's garments in representing the part of
- Tracy Lovell in Colman's play, <i>The Suicide</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- By this unhappy exhibition which she made of herself she disillusioned
- those of her admirers who fancied that she was a model of grace from the
- sole of her feet to the crown of her head. She never repeated this
- performance. Had she done so in Lord Derby's presence, his constancy would
- have been put to a severer test than any to which he had been previously
- subjected. The best judges of what constitutes grace in a woman were
- unanimous in their advice to the lady never to forsake the friendly
- habiliments which she was accustomed to wear, and never to allow her
- emulation of the perpetually chaste goddess to lead her to adopt even for
- an hour the convenient garb in which she went a-hunting.
- </p>
- <p>
- And while his fiancée was moving from triumph to triumph, putting every
- other actress in the shade, the Earl of Derby was putting on flesh. But as
- his flesh became more visible so did his faith. He was a model of
- fidelity. His name was never associated with the name of any other lady—not
- even that of his wife—during his long years of probation, and twenty
- years form a rather protracted period for a man to wait in order to marry
- an actress. It was not to be wondered if the spectacle of the devoted
- young peer waiting for the beautiful girl in the green room, which was
- allowed to the habitués of that fascinating apartment during the earlier
- years of this strange attachment, produced quite a different effect upon
- people from that which was the result of witnessing a somewhat obese,
- elderly gentleman panting along by the side of a chaste lady of forty. Nor
- was it remarkable that, on seeing one day by the side of Miss Farren, a
- gallant young man whose walk and bearing suggested to elderly spectators a
- rejuvenated Lord Stanley, they should rub their eyes and ask what miracle
- was this that time and true love had wrought.
- </p>
- <p>
- The only miracle that time had wrought was to make the son of the Earl of
- Derby twenty-one years of age and rather interested in the personnel of
- green rooms. He had been introduced to Miss Farren by his father; but to
- his honour be it said, he made no attempt to take his father's place in
- regard to the lady, except as her escort to her house in Green Street. The
- gossip that suggested such a possibility was just what one might expect to
- find in one of Walpole's letters.
- </p>
- <p>
- At last the shameful, if virtuous, devotion of twenty years was rewarded
- by the announcement of the death of the wretched Countess whose desertion
- dated from the day her husband met the actress. Miss Farren, with that
- extraordinary bad taste which characterised every period of her intimacy
- with Lord Derby, took an ostentatious farewell of the stage, and proved by
- the faltering of her voice, her emotion, and her final outburst in tears,
- that time had not diminished from the arts of her art. Of course, there
- was a scene of intense emotion in the theatre, which was increased when
- King led her forward and Wroughton spoke a rhymed and stagey farewell in
- her presence. Four of its lines were these:
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- But ah! this night adieu the joyous mien,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- When Mirth's lov'd fav'rite quits the mimic scene,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Startled Thalia would th'assent refuse,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- But Truth and Virtue sued and won the Muse.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Truth and Virtue—these were the patrons of the compact by which Miss
- Farren waited for twenty years for the death of the wife of the man whom
- she had promised to marry—when she could.
- </p>
- <p>
- The scene in the green room when the actress came off the stage was an
- unqualified success. Tears flowed freely, making channels as they
- meandered down the paint; sobs came from the actresses who hoped to get a
- chance of doing some of her parts now that she had left the stage; and
- Miss Farren herself showed that she knew what were the elements of a
- proper climax, by fainting with a shriek, in the midst of which she made
- an exit supported by all the actors who were not already supporting some
- of the hysterical ladies in the background. They all deserved to have
- their salaries raised. The whole scene was a triumph—of art.
- </p>
- <p>
- The exact chronology of the crisis is worth noting. Lady Derby died on
- March 4th, and was buried on April 2nd. On April 8th Miss Farren took her
- farewell of the stage, and on May 1st she was married to the Earl of
- Derby. A satisfactory explanation of the indecent delay in the celebration
- of the marriage was forthcoming: his lordship had been suffering from an
- attack of gout.
- </p>
- <p>
- But if no one ventured to cast an aspersion upon his character or to
- accuse him of shilly-shallying in regard to the postponement of his
- nuptials until his wife had been nearly a whole month in her grave, there
- was a good deal of funny gossip set loose when, after a honeymoon of two
- days, the Earl and the Countess returned to London. This also was
- satisfactorily explained: the Countess was devoted to her mother!
- </p>
- <p>
- The marriage proved a very happy one, and thirty-two years passed before
- the Countess died. Her husband survived her by five years. He died in
- 1834, fifty-seven years after his first meeting with the actress, and
- forty-seven since he instituted “The Derby” race meeting, winning the
- first cup by his horse Sir Peter Teazle.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- THE PLOT OF A LADY NOVELIST
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>N the year 1790-1
- there was played in real life a singularly poor adaptation of an unwritten
- novel by one of the Minifie sisters—those sentimental ladies who,
- during the last quarter of the eighteenth century, provided the
- circulating libraries with several volumes of high-flown fiction. The
- adaptation of this unwritten novel possessed a good many of the most
- prominent features of the original, so that when it was brought to light
- there could be very little doubt as to the brain out of which it had been
- evolved. The result of the performance was so unsatisfactory as to compel
- one to believe that the worst possible way of producing a novel is to
- adapt it to suit the requirements of one's relations, forcing them to play
- in real life and in all earnest the parts assigned to them by the inventor
- of the plot.
- </p>
- <p>
- Miss Minifie, the second of the sentimental sisters, had married in the
- year 1769 Colonel John Gunning, the brother of the two beautiful girls one
- of whom became Duchess of Hamilton, and later Duchess of Argyll, and the
- other Countess of Coventry. The result of the union was a daughter of
- considerable plainness, and people said that in this respect she resembled
- her mother's rather than her father's family. It seems that while the
- Gunning tradition was beauty, the Minifie tradition was a nose, and it
- soon became apparent that it was impossible to combine the two with any
- satisfactory artistic results. The young lady had made an honest attempt
- to do so, but her failure was emphatic. She had eyes that suggested in a
- far-off way the long-lashed orbs of her aunts, but that unlucky Minifie
- nose was so prominent a feature that it caused the attention of even the
- most indulgent critic to be riveted upon it, to the exclusion of the rest
- of her face. The charitably-disposed among her friends affirmed that she
- would be passably good-looking if it were not for her nose; the others
- said that she would be positively plain if it were not for her eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her father was probably that member of his family who had least brains:
- they made a soldier of him, and he married a lady novelist, closing an
- inglorious career by running off with his tailor's wife and having a writ
- issued against him for £5000. He took care to be at Naples, outside the
- jurisdiction of the English court, when it was issued, and he died before
- it could be served on him, which suggests that he may not have been so
- devoid of brains after all.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her mother (<i>née</i> Minifie) seems to have entertained the idea of
- making the girl work out a “plot” for her when she arrived at the
- regulation age of the sentimental heroine of those days, and this plot she
- invented with all her accustomed absence of skill. Her materials were a
- “glorious child”—this was how she described her daughter—with
- a gifted mother; a young cousin, heir to a dukedom and a large estate;
- and, lastly, the Gunning tradition. Could any novelist ask for more? A
- short time afterwards she did, however, and this was just where her art
- failed her. She did much to discourage the writers of fiction from
- endeavouring to work out their plots in real life.
- </p>
- <p>
- Catherine Gunning, the “glorious child,” being the niece of the Duchess of
- Argyll, her cousin was, of course, the Marquis of Lome; and as the Duchess
- had always kept up an intimate connection with the members of her father's
- family, even to the second generation, her son, Lord Lome, and Catherine
- Gunning had been a good deal together, not only when they were children,
- but also when they had reached the age when the novel-writer's hero and
- heroine begin to blossom. The girl's mother, doubtless having an idea that
- these very live young people were as plastic as the creatures of her
- fancy, thought to hasten on the <i>dénouement</i> of her story by
- whispering it to her friends. She whispered into more than one ear that
- Lord Lome and her daughter were betrothed, and such friends as received
- this information, strictly <i>sub rosa</i>, took care to spread it abroad—strictly
- <i>sub rosa</i> also. Now the aggregation of many confidential reports of
- this sort is what is termed “news,” so that in the course of a short time
- it was common property that Lord Lome was to marry his cousin, Catherine
- Gunning.
- </p>
- <p>
- Congratulations reached the young lady, which she neither quite accepted
- nor altogether rejected. She seems to have learned from her mother's
- novels that in such matters it is wisest for a young woman to be silent
- but pensive. And on the whole her behaviour was fairly consistent with
- that of the heroine which her mother meant her to be. Indeed, all that was
- needed to enable her to take the place of the heroine of a pleasant little
- love story was the proposal of the hero; and unhappily this formality had
- still to be reckoned with. Lord Lome had so paltry an appreciation of what
- was due to the art of the fiction-writer that he declined to play the part
- of the young hero of the story, and when people approached him on the
- subject he said that he had heard nothing about being accepted by Miss
- Gunning, and that he could not possibly be accepted until he had proposed
- to her. He seems to have acted with the discretion one would have looked
- for from the son of the Duchess of Argyll, and in the course of the year
- the reports of the possible union dwindled away, and people began to feel
- that their friends were untrustworthy gossips to have circulated a report
- solely on the evidence of a young lady's pensiveness.
- </p>
- <p>
- This was, however, as it turned out, but the opening chapter in the
- romance which the novelist-mother was working out. Indeed, it scarcely
- bears to be considered as a regular chapter, it was rather the prologue to
- the comedy which was played two years later with the same heroine, but for
- obvious reasons with a different hero. In the prologue there was scarcely
- visible any of the art of the novelist; in the comedy itself, however, her
- hand is constantly apparent, controlling the movements of at least one of
- her puppets; and very jerkily, too, that hand pulled the strings. The
- clumsiness in the construction of the plot prevented any one from
- sympathising with the authoress and stage-manager of the piece when its
- failure became known to the world in general, and to Horace Walpole in
- particular. Walpole could pretend a good deal. He pretended, for instance,
- that he knew at once that the Rowley poems, sent to him by Chatterton,
- were forgeries; and he pretended that he knew nothing of the marriage of
- his niece to the Duke of Gloucester until the public were apprised of the
- fact. He could not, however, even pretend that he sympathised with the
- failure of the Minifie plot. On the contrary, he gloats over the disgrace
- which, he declared, on this account fell upon the Gunning family. He hated
- the whole Gunning family, and he was plainly in ecstasies of delight when
- he believed that ruin had come upon them. “The two beautiful sisters were
- exalted almost as high as they could go,” he wrote. “Countessed and double
- duchessed, and now the family have dragged themselves down into the very
- dirt.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The “family” had of course done nothing of the sort. One member of the
- family had allowed herself to be made a fool of at the suggestion of her
- very foolish mother; her father had also been indiscreet, but there is a
- wide difference between all this and the family of Gunning “dragging
- themselves into the very dirt.” The result of the tricks of the lady
- novelist to marry her daughter to the heir to a dukedom was only to make
- every one roar with laughter, and no doubt the fatuous ladies felt greatly
- annoyed. But the Marquis of Lome did not seem to take the matter greatly
- to heart, and he was a member of the Gunning family; nor did the Duke of
- Hamilton show himself to be greatly perturbed, though he must have been
- somewhat jealous of the honour of the family to which his mother belonged.
- The position that the Gunning family had taken among the greatest families
- in the land rested upon too solid a foundation to be shaken by the
- foolishness of a lady novelist, who had married a Gunning. And now people
- who read the story of the “dragging in the dirt” only shrug their
- shoulders at the ridiculous figure cut by the actors in the shallow and
- sordid comedy, and laugh at the spiteful gibe of the prince of gossips,
- who played a congenial part in damning the product of the Minifie brain.
- </p>
- <p>
- Two years after the failure of the Lome plot startling whispers were once
- again heard in regard to Miss Gunning and the heir to another dukedom.
- This time it was the Marquis of Blandford who attracted the Minifie fancy.
- He was the Duke of Marlborough's heir, and was twenty-three years of age.
- Of course it was Mrs. Gunning (<i>née</i> Minifie) who was the first to
- make the announcement that the young people were greatly attached; and
- then followed—after the interval of a chapter or two—the lady
- novelist's declaration to her niece, a Mrs. Bowen, that Lord Blandford had
- proposed, and had been accepted by Miss Gunning. The date of the marriage
- had been fixed, and the draft deed of the settlements signed; but, as in
- the former “case,” the recipient of the news was told that she must regard
- the communication as strictly confidential, the fact being that although
- the arrangements for the match were so fully matured, yet General Gunning—he
- had recently been made a general—had not been let into the secret.
- </p>
- <p>
- It must have seemed a little queer to Mrs. Bowen to learn that her uncle
- had not been made acquainted with the good luck that was in store for his
- daughter. The signing of marriage deeds in the absence of the bride's
- father must surely have struck her as being a trifle irregular. However
- this may be, she seems to have treated the communication as strictly
- confidential by at once proceeding to spread abroad the news that it
- contained. It reached the ears of several people of distinction before
- long. General Conway heard of it, and from a quarter that seemed to him
- absolutely trustworthy. He passed it round to Walpole and the Court
- circle. The Duke of Argyll, as the uncle of the young lady most interested
- in the match, was apprised of it in due course, and on appealing to
- headquarters—that is to say, to Mrs. Gunning—for confirmation
- or denial of the report, learned that the marriage had indeed been
- “arranged,” but the question of settlements remained in abeyance.
- </p>
- <p>
- Shortly afterwards there came rumours that there were obstacles in the way
- of the marriage, and Miss Gunning, on being questioned by some of her
- friends, confessed that it was the parents of her lover who were unkind:
- young Lord Blandford was burning with anxiety to call her his own, but the
- Duke and Duchess belonged unfortunately to that type of parent to be found
- in so many novels in which the course of true love runs anything but
- smooth.
- </p>
- <p>
- Strange to say, it was just at this point that a letter appeared in the <i>Advertiser</i>,
- signed by General Gunning, apprising the world of the fact that the
- Gunnings were one of the noblest families in existence, the writer
- actually being able to trace his ancestry up to Charlemagne.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was while people were so laughing over this letter as to cause him to
- declare it to be a forgery, that the General became suspicious of the
- genuineness of his daughter's statements in regard to her <i>affaire de
- cour</i>. When a blunt old soldier finds a letter bearing his signature in
- the papers, well knowing that he never wrote such a letter, he is apt to
- question the good faith even of his nearest and dearest. It is certain, at
- any rate, that the descendant of Charlemagne had an uneasy feeling that
- any woman who wrote novels was not to be implicitly trusted in the affairs
- of daily life. His mind running on forged letters, he commanded his
- daughter to submit to him her correspondence with her lover.
- </p>
- <p>
- Miss Gunning at once complied, and he sat down to read the lot. The result
- was not to allay his suspicions. The letters read remarkably well, and
- contained the conventional outpourings of an ardent lover to the object of
- his affections. But to the simple soldier's mind they read just too well:
- some of them were in the style of a novel-writer with whom he was
- acquainted—imperfectly, it would appear, or he would have suspected
- something long before. Retaining the precious “pacquet” he awaited
- developments.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had not long to wait. Another contribution to the correspondence which
- he had in his hand came to his daughter, and was passed on to him.
- Noticing in it some doubtful features, he came to the conclusion that it
- was necessary to get to the bottom of the affair in the most
- straightforward way. He leapt to the bottom of it by sending the whole
- “pacquet” to the young Marquis of Blandford, asking him peremptorily if he
- had written the letters.
- </p>
- <p>
- He got a reply to the effect that a few of the letters were his—they
- were the ordinary ones, courteous, but in no way effusive—but that
- the greater number had not come from him. His lordship did not seem to
- think that common politeness demanded his expressing his hearty
- concurrence with the tone and sentiments contained in these same letters.
- Now in the judgment of a novelist of the intellectual calibre of the
- Minifie sisters this is exactly what a young gentleman would do when
- playing the part of the hero of a romance, so that it would appear that
- General Gunning was fully justified in coming to the conclusion that the
- whole scheme—the whole piece of scheming—was the design of his
- wife—that it represented an attempt on her part to force one of her
- “plots” upon some real personages. Dull-minded man though he certainly
- was, he must have perceived that his wife's plan was to compel Lord
- Blandford to act the part of the hero of her sentimental imagination, and
- when confronted with a parcel of forged letters, in every one of which
- there was a confession of love for Miss Gunning, to bow his head meekly,
- as any gentleman (of her imagination) would, and say, “Those are my
- letters, and they express nothing but the most honourable sentiments of my
- heart.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But as it so happened the young Lord Blandford was not a young gentleman
- of this particular stamp. He seems to have been almost as practical as his
- great ancestor, who, out of the proceeds of his first love intrigue,
- bought an annuity for himself. Hence the fiasco of the Minifie plot.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Minifie plot, however, was not worked out in one act only, and an
- insignificant prologue. The resources of the lady's imagination were by no
- means exhausted by the failure of Lord Blandford to act up to the heroic
- part assigned to him. He seems to have talked a good deal to his friends
- about the forged letters, and the Duke of Argyll, the young lady's uncle,
- took the matter up as an important member by marriage of the family. He
- applied to his niece for an explanation of the whole affair; and her
- father seems to have agreed with him in thinking that if the girl was ever
- to hold up her head again it would be necessary for her to bring forward
- some evidence to prove what she still asserted, namely, that the letters
- had been written to her by Lord Blandford—this “pacquet” of letters
- played as important a part in the story of Miss Gunning as the “Casquet
- Letters” did in the history of Queen Mary—and that they were written
- with the concurrence and approbation of the Duke and Duchess of
- Marlborough. The Duke and Duchess had, she affirmed, encouraged her by the
- most unmistakable means to believe that they were extremely anxious to see
- her married to their son.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was then suggested—Horace Walpole, who gloats over the whole
- story in a letter to one of the Berrys, does not say by whom—that
- the young woman should draw up a narrative of the progress of the
- attachment professed for her by Lord Blandford, and of the particular acts
- of encouragement for which she alleged the Duke and Duchess were
- responsible, leading her to feel sure that she was a <i>persona grata</i>
- with them. It was hoped by the Duke of Argyll and General Gunning that the
- girl would be rehabilitated in the eyes of society by the production of
- the Duke of Marlborough's formal assent to the statements made by Miss
- Gunning in endeavouring to exculpate herself. Miss Gunning assenting—after
- a consultation with her mother, we may be sure—a “narrative” was
- accordingly prepared by the young lady, and in it there was the ingenuous
- confession that although she had been unable to resist so dazzling an
- offer as that of Lord Blandford, she had not wavered in her affection for
- her cousin, the Marquis of Lome.
- </p>
- <p>
- Here we have the true Minifie touch of sentimentality, and we cannot doubt
- that the remaining portion of the plot was due to her clumsy ingenuity.
- </p>
- <p>
- This narrative was sent to the Duke of Marlborough, with the following
- letter from General Gunning:
- </p>
- <p>
- “St. James's Place,
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>3 rd February</i>, 1791.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My Lord,—I have the honour of addressing this letter to your Grace
- not with the smallest wish after what has passed of having a marriage
- established between Lord Blandford and my daughter, or of claiming any
- promise or proposal to that effect, but merely to know whether your Grace
- or the Duchess of Marlborough have it in recollection that your Graces or
- Lord Blandford ever gave my daughter reason to think a marriage was once
- intended.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My motive for giving this trouble arises merely from a desire of removing
- any imputation from my daughter's character, as if she had entertained an
- idea of such importance without any reasonable foundation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “For my own satisfaction, and that of my particular friends who have been
- induced to believe the reports of the intended marriage, I have desired my
- daughter to draw up an accurate narrative of every material circumstance
- on which that belief was founded.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This narrative I have the honour of transmitting to your Grace for your
- own perusal, and that of the Duchess of Marlborough and Lord Blandford,
- thinking it highly suitable that you should have an early opportunity of
- examining it—and I beg leave to request that your Grace will, after
- examination, correct or alter such passages as may appear either to your
- Grace, the Duchess of Marlborough, or Lord Blandford, to be erroneously
- stated.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have the honour to be,
- </p>
- <p>
- “With the greatest respect, my Lord,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your Grace's most humble and
- </p>
- <p>
- “Most obedient servant,
- </p>
- <p>
- “John Gunning.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This letter was dispatched by a groom to its destination at Blenheim, and
- within half an hour of his delivering it, His Grace, according to the
- groom, had handed him a reply for General Gunning. This document, which
- the groom said he had received from the Duke, was forwarded, with a copy
- of the letter to which it constituted a most satisfactory reply, to a
- small and very select committee that had, it would seem, been appointed to
- investigate and report upon the whole story. It must also be quoted in
- full, in order that its point may be fully appreciated by any one
- interested in this very remarkable story.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Blenheim.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir,—I take the earliest opportunity to acknowledge the receipt of
- your letter, and to answer it with that explicitness you are so much
- entitled to. From the first of the acquaintance of the D———s
- of Marlborough and myself had with Miss Gunning, we were charmed with her,
- and it was with infinite satisfaction we discovered <i>Blanford's</i>
- sentiments similar to our own. It had long been the wish of both to see
- him married to some amiable woman. Your daughter was the one we had fixed
- on, and we had every reason to suppose the object of his tenderest
- affections, and, from the conduct of both himself and his family, yourself
- and Miss Gunning had undoubtedly every right to look on a marriage as
- certain. Indeed when I left town last summer, I regarded her as my future
- daughter, and I must say it is with sorrow I relinquish the idea. The
- actions of young men are not always to be accounted for; and it is with
- regret that I acknowledge my son has been particularly unaccountable in
- his. I beg that you will do me the justice to believe that I shall ever
- think myself your debtor for the manner in which you have conducted
- yourself in this affair, and that I must always take an interest in the
- happiness of Miss Gunning. I beg, if she has not conceived a disgust for
- the whole of my family, she will accept the sincerest good wishes of the
- Duchess and my daughters.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have the honour to remain,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your much obliged and
- </p>
- <p>
- “Most obedient, humble servant,
- </p>
- <p>
- “Marlborough.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Now be it remembered that both these letters were forwarded to the
- committee with the young lady's narrative, to be considered by them in the
- same connection, at Argyll House, where their sittings were to be held.
- </p>
- <p>
- What was to be said in the face of such documentary evidence as this?
- Those members of the committee who hoped that the girl's statement of her
- case would be in some measure borne out by the Duke of Marlborough could
- never have hoped for so triumphant a confirmation of her story as was
- contained in His Grace's letter. It seemed as if the investigation of the
- committee would be of the simplest character; handing them such a letter,
- accompanying her own ingenuous narrative, it was felt that she had
- completely vindicated her position.
- </p>
- <p>
- But suddenly one member of the committee—Walpole in the letter to
- Miss Berry affirms that he was this one—ventured to point out that
- in the Duke's letter the name <i>Blandford</i> was spelt without the
- middle letter <i>d</i>. “That was possible in the hurry of doing justice,”
- wrote Walpole. But the moment that this pin-puncture of suspicion appeared
- in the fabric of the lady's defence it was not thought any sacrilege to
- try to pick another hole in it. The wax with which the letter was sealed
- was black, and the members of the council asked one another whom the
- Marlborough family were in mourning for, that they should seal their
- letter in this fashion. No information on this point was forthcoming. (It
- is strange if Walpole did not suggest that they were in mourning over the
- defunct reputation of the young lady.) If the Duke of Argyll was present,
- it can well be believed that, after the members of the council had looked
- at each other, there should be silence in that room, on one wall of which
- we may believe there was hanging the splendid portrait of Elizabeth,
- Duchess of Argyll and Baroness Hamilton of Hameldon, in her own right,
- painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds. The lady was dying at her Scotch home when
- this investigation into the conduct of her niece was being conducted.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was probably a relief to every one present when the suggestion was made
- that the Duke of Marlborough's second son was in town, and if sent for he
- might be able to throw some light upon the subject of the mourning wax or
- some other questionable point in the same connection. Although it was now
- close upon midnight a messenger was dispatched for the young man—probably
- his whereabouts at midnight would be known with greater certainty than at
- midday. At any rate he was quickly found, and repaired in all haste to
- Argyll House. He was brought before the committee and shown the letter
- with the black wax. He burst out laughing, and declared that the writing
- bore not the least resemblance to that of his father, the Duke of
- Marlborough.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was nothing more to be said. The council adjourned <i>sine die</i>
- without drawing up any report, so far as can be ascertained.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the full clumsiness of the Minifie “plot” was revealed the next day,
- for General Gunning received a letter from the Captain Bowen whose name
- has already entered into this narrative, telling him that his wife, the
- General's niece, had a short time before received from Miss Gunning a
- letter purporting to be a copy of one which had come to her from the Duke
- of Marlborough, and begging her to get her husband to make a fair copy of
- it, and return it by the groom. Captain Bowen added that he had complied
- with his wife's request to this effect, but he had written “<i>copy</i>”
- at the top and “<i>signed M</i>.” at the bottom, as is usual in engrossing
- copies of documents, to prevent the possibility of a charge of forgery
- being brought against the copyist.
- </p>
- <p>
- The letter which the girl wrote to Mrs. Bowen was made the subject of an
- affidavit shortly afterwards, and so became public property. It is so
- badly composed that one cannot but believe it was dictated by her mother,
- though the marvellous spelling must have been Miss Gunning's own. The fact
- that, after making up a story of her love for Lord Lome, and of the
- encouragement she received from the Marlborough family in respect of Lord
- Blandford, she instructed Mrs. Bowen to keep the matter secret from her
- mother, confirms one's impression as to the part the lady must have played
- in the transaction. Miss Gunning wrote: “Neither papa or I have courage to
- tell mama, for she detests the person dearest to me on earth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But however deficient in courage her papa was in the matter of acquainting
- his wife with so ordinary an incident as was referred to in this letter,
- he did not shrink from what he believed to be his duty when it was made
- plain to him that his daughter and his wife had been working out a “plot”
- in real life that necessitated the forging of a letter. He promptly
- bundled both wife and daughter out of his house, doubtless feeling that
- although the other personages in the romance which his wife was hoping to
- weave, had by no means acted up to the parts she had meant them to play,
- there was no reason why he should follow their example. It must be
- acknowledged that as a type of the bluff old soldier, simple enough to be
- deceived by the inartistic machinations of a foolish wife, but inexorable
- when finding his credulity imposed upon, he played his part extremely
- well. At the same time such people as called him a ridiculous old fool for
- adopting so harsh a measure toward his erring child, whose tricks he had
- long winked at, were perhaps not to be greatly blamed.
- </p>
- <p>
- The old Duchess of Bedford at once received the outcasts and provided them
- with a home; and then Mrs. Gunning had leisure to concoct a manifesto in
- form of an open letter to the Duke of Argyll, in which, after exhorting
- His Grace to devote the remainder of his life to unravelling the mystery
- which she affirmed (though no one else could have done so) enshrouded the
- whole affair of the letter, she went on to denounce the simple-hearted
- General for his meanness—and worse—in matters domestic. He had
- never been a true husband to her, she declared, and he was even more
- unnatural as a father. As for Captain Bowen and his wife, the writer of
- the manifesto showed herself to be upon the brink of delirium when she
- endeavoured to find words severe enough to describe their treachery. They
- were inhuman in their persecution of her “glorious child,” she said, and
- then she went on to affirm her belief that the incriminating letters had
- been forged by the Bowens, and the rest of the story invented by them with
- the aid of the General to ruin her and her “glorious child.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Captain Bowen thought fit to reply to this amazing production. He did so
- through the prosaic form of a number of affidavits. The most important of
- these was that sworn by one William Pearce, groom to General Gunning. In
- this document he deposed that when he was about to start for Blenheim with
- the “pacquet” for the Duke of Marlborough, Miss Gunning had caught him and
- compelled him to hand over the “pacquet” to her, and that she had then
- given him another letter, sealed with black, bearing the Marlborough arms,
- instructing him to deliver it to her father, pretending that he had
- received it at Blenheim.
- </p>
- <p>
- In spite of all this Miss Gunning continued to affirm her entire
- innocence, and even went the length—according to Walpole—of
- swearing before a London magistrate that she was innocent. “It is but a
- burlesque part of this wonderful tale,” adds Walpole, “that old crazy
- Bedford exhibits Miss every morning on the Causeway in Hyde Park and
- declares her <i>protégée</i> some time ago refused General Trevelyan.” But
- “crazy old Bedford” went much further in her craziness than this, for she
- actually wrote to the Marquis of Lome trying to patch up a match between
- Miss Gunning and himself. Immediately afterwards the town was startled by
- the report that a duel was impending between Lord Lome and Lord Blandford,
- the former maintaining that it was his duty to uphold the honour of his
- cousin, which had been somewhat shaken by the course adopted by the
- Marlborough heir. Of course no duel took place, and the young men simply
- laughed when their attention was called to the statement in print.
- </p>
- <p>
- How much further these alarums and excursions (on the Causeway) would have
- proceeded it would be impossible to tell, the fact being that Captain
- Bowen and his wife gave notice of their intention to institute proceedings
- against the Gunnings, mother and daughter, for libel. This brought <i>l'affaire
- Gunning</i> to a legitimate conclusion, for the ladies thought it
- advisable to fly to France.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The town is very dull without them,” wrote Walpole to one of the Berrys,
- enclosing a copy of a really clever skit in verse, after the style of “The
- House that Jack Built,” ridiculing the whole affair. When Mrs. Gunning and
- her daughter returned, after the lapse of several months, the old Duchess
- of Bedford took them up once more; but the town declined to take any
- further notice of them. It was not until her father and mother had been
- dead for some years that Miss Gunning married Major Plunkett, an Irish
- rebel, who fled after the rising in 1798. She lived with him happily
- enough for twenty years, endeavouring to atone for the indiscretion of her
- girlhood by writing novels. It is doubtful if many of her readers
- considered such expiation wholly adequate, considering how foolish she had
- been. One act of folly can hardly be atoned for by another. But her
- intention was good, and her faults, including her novels, have long ago
- been forgiven her by being forgotten.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- TRAGEDY WITH A TWINKLE
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>N the summer of
- 1770 there arrived at the town of Lisle a coach containing three ladies
- and one man, followed by a travelling chaise with servants and luggage. Of
- the ladies, one was approaching middle age, handsome and elegant; the
- other two were her daughters, and both were extremely beautiful and
- graceful girls, under twenty years of age. The man was a small,
- middle-aged person, with a face which one would have called plain if it
- had not been that the protruding of his upper lip and the twinkle in his
- eyes suggested not plainness, but comedy. The very soul of comedy was in
- the gravity of his face; but it was that sort which is not apparent to all
- the world. It was the soul of comedy, not the material part; and most
- people are disposed to deny the possibility of comedy's existing except in
- juxtaposition with the grin through the horse-collar. Solemnity in a face,
- with a twinkle in the eye—that is an expression which comedy may
- wear without arousing the curiosity—certainly without exciting the
- laughter—of the multitude. And this was exactly the form that the
- drama of this man's life assumed; only it was tragedy with a twinkle.
- Tragedy with a twinkle—that was Oliver Goldsmith.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0010" id="linkimage-0010"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0203.jpg" alt="0203 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0203.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- The vehicles drew up in the courtyard of the hotel in the square, and Dr.
- Goldsmith, after dismounting and helping the ladies to dismount, gave
- orders in French to the landlord in respect of the luggage, and made
- inquiries as to the table d'hôte. Shown to their respective rooms, the
- members of the party did not meet again for some time, and then it was in
- the private <i>salle</i> which they had engaged, looking out upon the
- square. The two girls were seated at a window, and their mother was
- writing letters at a table at one side.
- </p>
- <p>
- When Dr. Goldsmith entered we may be pretty sure that he had exchanged his
- travelling dress for a more imposing toilet, and we may be equally certain
- that these two girls had something merry to say about the cut or the
- colour of his garments—we have abundant record of their <i>badinage</i>
- bearing upon his flamboyant liking for colour, and of his retorts in the
- same spirit. We have seen him strutting to and fro in gay apparel,
- obtrusively calling attention to the beauty of his waistcoat and speaking
- in solemn exaggeration of its importance. The girls were well aware of
- this form of his humour; they appreciated it to the full, and responded to
- it in their merriment.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then there came the sound of martial music from the square, and the elder
- of the girls, opening the window on its hinges, looked out. A regiment of
- soldiers was turning into the square and would pass the hotel, she said.
- The two girls stood at one window and Goldsmith at another while the march
- past took place. It was not surprising that, glancing up and seeing the
- beautiful pair at the window, the mounted officers at the head of the
- regiment should feel flattered by the attention, nor was it unlikely that
- the others, taking the <i>pas</i> from their superiors, should look up and
- exchange expressions in admiration of the beauty of the young ladies. It
- is recorded that they did so, and that, when the soldiers had marched off,
- the little man at the other window walked up and down the room in anger
- “that more attention had been paid to them than to him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- These are the words of Boswell in concluding his account of the episode,
- which, by the way, he printed with several other stories in illustration
- of the overwhelming vanity and extraordinary envy in Goldsmith's nature.
- As if any human being hearing such a story of the most complete curmudgeon
- would accept the words as spoken seriously! And yet Boswell printed it in
- all solemnity, and hoped that every one who read it would believe that
- Goldsmith, the happy-go-lucky Irishman, was eaten up with envy of the
- admiration given to the two exquisite girls on whom, by the way, be
- conferred immortality; for so long as English literature remains the names
- of the Jessamy Bride and Little Comedy will live. Yes, and so long as
- discriminating people read the story of Goldsmith's envious outburst they
- will not fail to see the true picture of what did actually take place in
- that room in the Lisle hotel—they will see the little man stalking
- up and down, that solemn face of his more solemn than ever, but the
- twinkle in his eyes revealing itself all the more brightly on this
- account, while he shakes his fists at the ladies and affirms that the
- officers were dolts and idiots to waste their time gazing at them when
- they had a chance “of seeing me, madam, me—<i>me!</i>” Surely every
- human being with the smallest amount of imagination will see the little
- man thumping his waistcoat, while the Miss Hornecks hold up their hands
- and go into fits of laughter at that whimsical Dr. Goldsmith, whom they
- had chosen to be their companion on that tour of theirs through France
- with their mother.
- </p>
- <p>
- And surely every one must see them in precisely the same attitude, when
- they read the story in Boswell's <i>Life of Johnson</i>, and notice what
- interpretation has been put upon it by the Scotsman—hands uplifted
- in amazement and faces “o'er-running with laughter” at the thought of how
- Mr. Boswell has, for the thousandth time, been made a fool of by some one
- who had picked up the story from themselves and had solemnly narrated it
- to Boswell. But in those days following the publication of the first
- edition of the <i>Life</i>, people were going about with uplifted hands,
- wondering if any man since the world began had ever been so befooled as
- Boswell.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the story appeared in <i>Johnson's Life</i> the two girls had been
- married for several years; but one of them at least had not forgotten the
- incident upon which it was founded; and upon its being repeated in
- Northcote's <i>Life of Reynolds</i>, she wrote to the biographer, assuring
- him that in this, as well as in other stories of the same nature, the
- expression on Goldsmith's face when he professed to be overcome by envy
- was such as left no one in doubt that he was jesting. But Croker, in spite
- of this, had the impudence to sneer at the explanation, and to attribute
- it to the good-nature of the lady. Mr. Croker seems to have had a special
- smile of his own for the weaknesses of ladies. This was the way he smiled
- when he was searching up old registries of their birth in his endeavour to
- prove that they had made themselves out to be six months younger than they
- really were. (Quite different, however, must his smile have been when he
- read Macaulay's Essay on Croker's edition of Boswell's <i>Life of Johnson</i>).
- But, unhappily for poor Goldsmith, Mr. Boswell was able to bring forward
- much stronger evidence of the consuming Vanity, the parent of Envy, with
- which his “honest Dr. Goldsmith” was afflicted. There was once an
- exhibition of puppets in Panton Street, and on some member of the
- distinguished company in which he, curiously enough for such a
- contemptible lout, constantly found himself, admiring the dexterity with
- which the wooden figure tossed a halbert, Goldsmith, we are gravely told,
- appeared annoyed and said: “Pshaw! I could do it as well myself!”
- Supposing that some one had said to Boswell, “After all, sir, perhaps Dr.
- Goldsmith could have done it as well himself,” would the man have tried to
- explain that the question was not whether Goldsmith or the puppet was the
- more dexterous, but whether it was possible to put any other construction
- upon Goldsmith's exclamation than that assumed by Mr. Boswell?
- </p>
- <p>
- Yet another instance is given of Goldsmith's envy, and this time the
- object of it is not a wooden figure, but Shakespeare himself. He could not
- bear, Dr. Beattie tells us, that so much admiration should be given to
- Shakespeare. Hearing this, we feel that we are on quite a different level.
- There is no jealousy rankling this time in Goldsmith's heart against a
- mere puppet. It is now a frantic passion of chagrin that Shakespeare
- should still receive the admiration of a chosen few!
- </p>
- <p>
- But such vanity as that so strikingly illustrated by this last told story,
- is, one must confess with feelings of melancholy, not yet wholly extinct
- among literary men. It would scarcely be believed—unless by Boswell
- or Beattie—that even in America a man with some reputation as a
- writer should deliberately ask people to assume that he himself was worthy
- of a place in a group that included not merely Shakespeare, but also
- Milton and Homer. “Gentlemen,” said this egregious person at a public
- dinner, “Gentlemen, think of the great writers who are dead and gone.
- There was Shakespeare, he is dead and gone; and Milton, alas! is no longer
- in the land of the living; Homer has been deceased for a considerable
- time, and I myself, gentlemen, am not feeling very well to-night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- What a pity it is that Beattie has gone the way of so many other great
- writers. If he could only have been laid on to Mark Twain we should have
- the most comic biography ever written.
- </p>
- <p>
- Goldsmith was, according to the great Boswell and the many lesser Boswells
- of his day, the most contemptible wretch that ever wrote the finest poem
- of the century, the finest comedy of the century, the finest romance of
- the century. He was a silly man, an envious man, an empty-headed man, a
- stuttering fool, an idiot (of the inspired variety), an awkward lout, a
- shallow pedant, and a generally ridiculous person; and yet here we find
- him the chosen companion of two of the most beautiful and charming young
- ladies in England on their tour through France, and on terms of such
- intimacy with them and their brother, an officer in the Guards and the
- son-in-law of a peer, that nicknames are exchanged between them. A
- singular position for an Irish lout to find himself in!
- </p>
- <p>
- Even before he is known to fame, and familiar only with famine, he is
- visited in his garret by Dr. Percy, a member of the great Northumberland
- family at whose town house he lived. So much for the empty-headed fool who
- never opened his mouth except to put his foot in it, as a countryman of
- his said about quite another person. He was a shallow prig, and yet when
- “the Club” was started not one of the original members questioned his
- right to a place among the most fastidious of the community, although
- Garrick—to the shame of Johnson be it spoken—was not admitted
- for nine years. Boswell—to the shame of Johnson be it spoken—was
- allowed to crawl in after an exclusion of ten. According to his numerous
- detractors, this Goldsmith was one of the most objectionable persons
- possible to imagine, and yet we find him the closest friend of the
- greatest painter of the day and the greatest actor of the day. He
- associates with peers on the friendliest terms, and is the idol of their
- daughters. He is accused, on the one hand, of aiming at being accounted a
- Macaroni and being extravagant in his dress, and yet he has such a
- reputation for slovenliness in this respect that it is recorded that Dr.
- Johnson, who certainly never was accused of harbouring unworthy
- aspirations to be accounted a beau, made it a point of putting on his best
- garments—he may even have taken the extreme step of fastening up his
- garters—before visiting Goldsmith, in order, as he explained, that
- the latter might have no excuse for his slovenliness. We are also told
- that Goldsmith made a fool of himself when he got on his feet to make a
- speech, and yet it is known that he travelled through Europe, winning the
- hospitality of more than one university by the display of his skill as a
- disputant. Again, none of his innumerable traits of awkwardness is so
- widely acknowledged as his conversational, and yet the examples which
- survive of his impromptu wit are of the most finished type; and (even when
- the record is made by Boswell), when he set himself out to take opposite
- sides to Johnson, he certainly spoke better sense than his antagonist,
- though he was never so loud. It is worth noting that nearly all the hard
- things which Johnson is reported to have said respecting Goldsmith were
- spoken almost immediately after one of these disputes. Further, we are
- assured that Goldsmith's learning was of the shallowest order, and yet
- when he was appointed Professor of History to the Royal Academy we do not
- hear that any voice was raised in protest.
- </p>
- <p>
- What is a simple reader to think when brought face to face with such
- contradictory accounts of the man and his attainments? Well, possibly the
- best one can do is to say, as Fanny Burney did, that Goldsmith was an
- extraordinary man.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course, so far as his writings are concerned there is no need for one
- to say much. They speak for themselves, and readers can form their own
- opinion on every line and every sentence that has come from his pen. There
- is no misunderstanding the character of <i>The Traveller</i> or <i>The
- Deserted Village</i> or <i>The Vicar of Wakefield</i>. These are
- acknowledged by the whole world to be among the most precious legacies of
- the eighteenth century to posterity. Who reads nowadays, except out of
- curiosity, such classics as <i>Tristram Shandy, Clarissa Harlow, Evelina,
- or Rasselas?</i> But who has not read, and who does not still read for
- pleasure, <i>The Vicar of Wakefield?</i> Johnson's laborious poem, <i>The
- Vanity of Human Wishes</i>, now only exists as an example of the last gasp
- of the didactic in verse; but we cannot converse without quoting—sometimes
- unconsciously—from <i>The Deserted Village</i> When the
- actor-manager of a theatre wishes to show how accomplished a company he
- has at his disposal he produces <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i>, and he would
- do so more frequently only he is never quite able to make up his mind
- whether he himself should play the part of old Hardcastle, Tony Lumpkin,
- Young Marlow, or Diggory. But what other eighteenth-century comedy of all
- produced previous to the death of Goldsmith can any manager revive
- nowadays with any hope of success? Colman of the eighteenth century is as
- dead as Congreve of the seventeenth; and what about the masterpieces of
- Cumberland, and Kelly, and Whitehead, and the rest? What about the Rev.
- Mr. Home's <i>Douglas</i>, which, according to Dr. Johnson, was equal to
- Shakespeare at his best? They have all gone to the worms, and these not
- even bookworms—their very graves are neglected. But <i>She Stoops to
- Conquer</i> is never revived without success—never without a modern
- audience recognising the fact that its characters are not the puppets of
- the playwright, but the creations of Nature. It is worthy of mention, too,
- that the play which first showed the capacity of an actress whose name was
- ever at the head of the list of actresses of the last generation, was
- founded on <i>The Vicar of Wakefield.</i> It was Miss Ellen Terry's
- appearance in <i>Olivia</i> in 1878 that brought about her connection with
- the ever memorable Lyceum management as an associate of the greatest actor
- of our day.
- </p>
- <p>
- These things speak for themselves, and prove incontestably that Goldsmith
- was head and shoulders above all those writers with whom he was on
- intimate terms. But the mystery of the contradictory accounts which we
- have of the man himself and his ways remains as unsolved as ever.
- </p>
- <p>
- Yes, unless we assume one thing, namely—that the majority of the
- people about him were incapable of understanding him. Is it going too far
- to suggest that, as Daniel Defoe was sent to the pillory because his
- ironic jest in <i>The Shortest Way with the Dissenters</i> was taken in
- earnest, and as good people shuddered at the horrible proposal of Swift
- that Irish babies should be cooked and eaten, so Goldsmith's peculiarities
- of humour were too subtle to be in any degree appreciated by most of the
- people with whom he came in contact in England?
- </p>
- <p>
- In Ireland there would be no chance of his being misunderstood; for there
- no form that his humour assumed would be regarded as peculiar. Irony is a
- figure of speech so largely employed by the inhabitants in some parts that
- people who have lived there for any length of time have heard whole
- conversations carried on by two or three men without the slightest
- divergence from this tortuous form of expression into the straight path of
- commonplace English. And all this time there was no expression but one of
- complete gravity on the faces of the speakers; a stranger had no clue
- whatsoever to the game of words that was being played before him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Another fully recognised form of humour which prevails in Ireland is even
- more difficult for a stranger to follow; its basis consists in mystifying
- another person, not for the sake of getting a laugh from a third who has
- been let into the secret, but simply for the satisfaction of the mystifier
- himself. The forms that such a scheme of humour may assume are various.
- One of the most common is an affectation of extraordinary stupidity. It is
- usually provoked by the deliverance of a platitude by a stranger. The
- humourist pretends that he never heard such a statement before, and asks
- to have it repeated. When this is done, there is usually a pause in which
- the profoundest thought is suggested; then the clouds are seen to clear
- away, and the perplexity on the man's face gives way to intelligence; he
- has grasped the meaning of the phrase at last, and he announces his
- victory with sparkling eyes, and forthwith puts quite a wrong construction
- upon the simplest words. His chuckling is brought to a sudden stop by the
- amazed protest of the victim against the suggested solution of the
- obvious. Thus, with consummate art, the man is led on to explain at
- length, with ridiculous emphasis, the exact meaning of his platitude; but
- it is all to no purpose. The humourist shakes his head; he pretends that
- the cleverness of the other is too much for him to grasp all in a moment;
- it's a fine thing to have learning, to be sure, but these things may be
- best not meddled with by ignorant creatures like himself; and so he goes
- off murmuring his admiration for the fine display of wisdom that comes so
- easy-like from the man whom he has been fooling.
- </p>
- <p>
- This form of humour is indulged in by some Irishmen simply for the
- satisfaction it gives them to indulge in it. They never hurry off to
- acquaint a neighbour with what they have done, and they are quite pleased
- with the thought that the person on whom they have been imposing will tell
- the whole story of their extraordinary obtuseness to some one else; it
- never strikes them that that some one else may fail to see through the
- trick, and actually be convinced of the existence of their obtuseness. But
- if such a possibility did occur to them, they would be all the better
- pleased: they would feel that they had fooled two instead of one.
- </p>
- <p>
- But, of course, the most widely recognised form of Irish humour is that
- known as the “bull.” This is the delivery of a paradox so obvious as to be
- detected—after a brief consideration—by an Englishman or even—after
- an additional space for thought—by a Scotsman. But where the fun
- comes in is (in the Irishman's eyes) when the others assume that the
- humour of the bull is involuntary; and this is just what the Englishman
- has been doing, and what the Irishman has been encouraging him to do, for
- centuries. The Englishman is so busy trying to make it appear that he is
- cleverer than he really is, he cannot see the humour of any man trying to
- make out that he is more stupid than he really is. Let no one fancy for a
- moment that the humour of an Irish bull is involuntary. It is a form of
- expression that may be due to a peculiar twist in the Irishman's mind—indeed,
- every form of humour may be said to be due to a peculiar twist of the mind—but
- it is as much a figure of speech as irony or satire. “Blarney” and
- “palaver” are other forms of speech in which the Irish of some generations
- ago indulged with great freedom, and both are essentially Irish and
- essentially humorous, though occasionally borrowed and clumsily worn on
- the other side of the Channel, just as the bernous of the Moor is worn by
- an English missionary when lecturing in the village schoolroom (with a
- magic-lantern) on The Progress of Christianity in Morocco.
- </p>
- <p>
- It would be interesting to make a scientific inquiry into the origin and
- the maintenance of all these forms of expression among the Irish; but it
- is unnecessary to do so in this place. It is enough if we remind English
- readers of the existence of such forms even in the present day, when there
- is so little need for their display. It can without difficulty be
- understood by any one, however superficially acquainted with the history
- of Ireland for the past thousand years, that “blarney” and “palaver” were
- as necessary to the existence of the natives of the island as suspicion
- and vigilance were to the existence of the invaders. But it is not so
- apparent why Irishmen should be given to rush into the extremes of
- bragging on the one hand, and self-depreciation on the other. Bragging is,
- however, as much an endowment of Nature for the protection of a species or
- a race as is imitation or mimicry. The Irishman who was able by the
- exercise of this gift to intimidate the invaders, escaped a violent death
- and transmitted his art to his children. The practice of the art of
- self-depreciation was quite as necessary for the existence of the Irish
- race up to the time of the passing of the first Land Act. For several
- generations an Irishman was not allowed to own a horse of greater value
- than five pounds; and every Irish agriculturist who improved the miserable
- cabin which he was supposed to share with his pigs and his fowl, might
- rest certain that his rent would be raised out of all proportion to his
- improvements. In these circumstances it can easily be understood that it
- was accounted a successful joke for a man who was doing tolerably well to
- put on a poor face when in the presence of an inquiry agent of the absent
- landlord—to run down all his own efforts and to depreciate generally
- his holding, and thus to save himself from the despicable treatment which
- was meted out to the unfortunate people by the conquerors of their
- country.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is not necessary to do more than make these suggestions to a scientific
- investigator who may be disposed to devote some time to the question of
- the origin of certain forms of Irish humour; it is enough for us, in
- considering the mystery of that typical Irishman, Oliver Goldsmith, to
- know that such forms of humour as we have specified have an actual
- existence. Such knowledge is a powerful illuminant to a reader of
- Boswell's and Beattie's stories of the stupidity of Goldsmith. A fine
- flood of light is thrown upon the apparent mystery of the inspiration of
- this idiot—of this man “who wrote like an angel and talked like poor
- poll.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Goldsmith was just too successful in maintaining that gravity which is the
- very essence of those forms of humour in which he was constantly indulging
- for his own satisfaction; the mask of gravity was such a good fit that the
- short-sighted people who were around him never penetrated it. He was
- making fools of the people about him, never giving a thought to the
- possibility that they would transmit to posterity the impression which his
- attitude conveyed to them, which was that he was a shallow fool.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course, it would be as absurd to contend that Goldsmith never made a
- fool of himself as it would be to assume that Johnson never made a fool of
- himself, or that Boswell ever failed to do so. The occasions upon which he
- made himself ridiculous must have been numerous, but out of the many
- incidents which Boswell and Beattie and Cooke and the others bring forward
- as proofs of his stupidity there are few that will not bear to be
- interpreted as instances of his practice of a form of humour well known in
- Ireland. If his affectation of chagrin at the admiration given to the
- Panton Street puppets, followed by the boast, “I could do it as well
- myself,” was not humorous, then indeed there is nothing humorous under the
- sun. If his object of setting the room roaring with laughter was not
- achieved the night when at the club he protested that the oratory of Burke
- was nothing—that all oratory, as a matter of fact, was only a knack—and
- forthwith stood upon a chair and began to stutter, all that can be said is
- that the famous club at Gerrard Street was more stolid than could be
- believed. If his strutting about the room where he and his friends were
- awaiting a late-comer to dinner, entreating Johnson and the rest to pay
- particular attention to the cut of his new peach-bloom coat, and declaring
- that Filby, his tailor, had told him that when any one asked him who had
- made the garment he was not to forget Filby's address, did not help
- materially to enliven the tedium of that annoying wait, all that can be
- said is that Thrale, as well as Boswell, must have been of the party.
- </p>
- <p>
- If a novelist, anxious to depict a typical humorous Irishman, were to show
- his hero acting as Boswell says Goldsmith acted, would not every reader
- acknowledge that he was true to the character of a comical Irishman? If a
- playwriter were to put the scene on the stage, would any one in the
- audience fail to see that the Goldsmith of the piece was fooling? Every
- one in the club—Boswell best of all—was aware of the fact that
- Goldsmith had the keenest admiration for Burke, and that he would be the
- last man in the world to decry his powers. As for the peach-bloom coat, it
- had been the butt of much jesting on the part of his friends; the elder of
- the Miss Hornecks had written him a letter of pretty “chaff” about it, all
- of which he took in good part. He may have bought the coat originally
- because he liked the tint of the velvet; but assuredly when he found that
- it could be made the subject of a jest he did not hesitate to jest upon it
- himself. How many times have we not seen in Ireland a man behave in
- exactly the same way under similar conditions—a boisterous young
- huntsman who had put on pink for the first time, and was strutting with
- much pride before an admiring group of servants, every one of whom had
- some enthusiastic remark to make about the fit of the coat, until at last
- the youth, pointing out the perfection of the gilt buttons, murmured: “Oh,
- but isn't this a great day for Ireland!”
- </p>
- <p>
- What a pity it was that Mr. Boswell had not been present at such a scene!
- Can we not hear his comments upon the character of the young man who had
- actually been so carried away by his vanity that he was heard to express
- the opinion that the fortunes of his country would be materially affected
- by the fact of the buttons of his new coat being gilt? (It was this same
- Mr. Boswell, the critic of Goldsmith's all too attractive costume, who,
- when going to see Pitt for the first time, put on Corsican native dress,
- pretending that he did so in order to interest Pitt in General Paoli.)
- </p>
- <p>
- In reading these accounts of Goldsmith's ways and the remarks of his
- associates it must be noticed that some of these gentlemen had now and
- again an uneasy impression that there was more in the poet's stupidity
- than met the eye. Sir Joshua Reynolds was his closest friend, and it was
- the business of the painter to endeavour to get below the surface of his
- sitters. The general idea that prevails in the world is that he was rather
- successful in his attempts to reproduce, not merely their features, but
- their characters as well; and Sir Joshua saw enough beneath the rude
- exterior of the man to cause him to feel toward Goldsmith as he felt for
- none of his other friends. When the news of his death was brought to the
- painter, he laid down his brushes and spent the day in seclusion. When it
- is remembered that he spent every day of the week, not even excepting
- Sunday, in his studio, the depth of his grief for the loss of his friend
- will be understood. Upon more than one occasion Reynolds asserted that
- Goldsmith was diverting himself by trying to make himself out to be more
- stupid than he really was. Malone, whose judgment was rarely at fault,
- whether it was exercised in the detection of fraud or in the discovery of
- genius, was in perfect agreement with Reynolds on this point, and was
- always ready to affirm that Boswell was unjust in his remarks upon
- Goldsmith and the conclusions to which he came in respect of his
- character. It is not necessary for one to have an especially vivid
- imagination to enable one to see what was the expression on Malone's face
- when he came upon the patronising passage in the <i>Life of Johnson</i> in
- which Boswell stated that for his part he was always glad to hear “honest
- Dr. Goldsmith” converse. “Puppy!” cried Johnson upon one occasion when a
- certain commentator had patronised a text out of all recognition. What
- would he have said had he heard Goldsmith patronised by Boswell?
- </p>
- <p>
- So far as Goldsmith's actual vanity is concerned, all that can be said at
- this time is that had it existed in the offensive form which it assumes in
- some of Boswell's stories, Goldsmith would never have won the friendship
- of those men and women who were his friends before he had made a
- reputation for himself by the publication of <i>The 'Traveller</i>. If he
- had had an extravagant opinion of his own capacity as a poet, he would
- certainly never have suffered Johnson to make an attempt to improve upon
- one of his poems; but Goldsmith not only allowed him to do so, but
- actually included the lines written by Johnson when he published the poem.
- Had he been eaten up by vanity, he would not have gone wandering down the
- Mall in St. James's Park while his comedy was being played for the first
- time before a delighted house. The really vain man was the author of The
- Vanity of Human Wishes, who bought the showiest set of garments he could
- find and sat in all their glory in the front row of the boxes on the night
- when Garrick produced his tragedy of <i>Irene</i>—Garrick whom he
- kept out of the Club for nine years simply because the actor had expressed
- a wish to become one of the original members. The really vain man was the
- one who made his stock story his account of his conversation with the King
- in the Royal Library. Every one sees this now, and every one saw it,
- except Boswell, when the <i>Life</i> was flung in the face of a convulsed
- public, for the public of the year 1791 were as little aware of the real
- value of the book as the author was of the true character of his hero and
- his hero's friend Goldsmith.
- </p>
- <p>
- After all, there would be no better way of arriving at a just conclusion
- on the subject of Goldsmith's stupidity than by submitting the whole of
- the case to an ordinary man accustomed to the many peculiarities of
- Irishmen, especially in the exercise of their doubtful gift of humour.
- “Here is a man,” we must say, “who became the most intimate friend of
- people of title and the dearest friend of many men of brains. When the
- most exclusive Club of the day was started his place as a member was not
- disputed, even by the man who invented the word 'clubbable,' and knew what
- it meant into the bargain; when the Royal Academy of Arts was started he
- was invited to become one of its professors. Some of the wittiest things
- recorded by the most diligent recorder of witty things that the world has
- ever known, were uttered by him. Upon one occasion when walking among the
- busts of the poets in Westminster Abbey with a friend, the latter pointing
- around said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “'<i>Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis</i>.'
- </p>
- <p>
- “Leaving the Abbey and walking down the Strand to Temple Bar they saw the
- heads of the men who had been captured and decapitated for taking part in
- the Rebellion of the year 1745, bleaching in the winds in accordance with
- the terms of the sentence for high treason.
- </p>
- <p>
- “'<i>Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis</i>,' murmured the man of
- whom we speak. Upon another occasion this same friend of his, who had a
- unique reputation for speaking in the most ponderous language, even when
- dealing with the simplest matters, asserted that the writing of the
- dialogue in some recently published fables where fish were represented as
- conversing, was very simple. 'Not so simple at all,' said the other, 'for
- were you to write them, you would make every minnow talk like a whale.'
- </p>
- <p>
- “In the course of a few years, in addition to compiling histories, which
- remained standard educational works for more than a century, and several
- other books, he wrote a novel which received the highest praise from the
- greatest intellects in Europe, and which is still read with delight by
- thousands of people of all nationalities; a poem of which almost every
- line is quoted daily in conversation—a poem which contains metaphors
- that have been repeated for generations in the Senate, in the Court of
- Law, and in the Church; and a play which has been pronounced the truest
- comedy in the English language. He died at an early age, and a memorial of
- his genius was given a place in Westminster Abbey. The inscription was
- written by the most distinguished man of letters in England, and although
- highly eulogistic, was considered by the greatest painter in the world and
- the greatest orator in the world to fall short of doing justice to the
- subject.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, on the other hand, the man of whom we speak was said by a Scotchman,
- who himself was occasionally referred to as a cur and sometimes as an ape,
- and more than once as a coxcomb, to have been roused to a frenzy of envy,
- because some officers, passing through a square in a French town, looked
- admiringly at two lovely girls who were at a window, ignoring him at
- another window; and again because his friends spoke with favour of the
- dexterity of a wooden figure dressed as a soldier, and yet again (on
- another authority) because one of his friends read a passage from
- Shakespeare, and affirmed that it was magnificent. Now, would you say,” we
- should ask the authority to whom we are supposed to be stating a case—“would
- you say that this man was in earnest when, in the first of the instances
- quoted, he walked up and down the room in the French hotel asserting 'that
- although the young ladies, of whom he was extremely fond, might have their
- admirers, there were places where he, too, was given admiration'? Would
- you say that he showed ill-temper or wit when, in the second instance, he
- declared with warmth that he could toss a halbert quite as well as any
- wooden figure? Would you say that——”
- </p>
- <p>
- But we should not get any further than this in stating our case to a man
- acquainted with the Irish and their humour: he would think that we were
- taking a leaf out of the book of Irish humour, and endeavouring to fool
- him by asking him to pronounce a grave opinion upon the obvious; he would
- not stay to give us a chance of asking him whether he thought that the
- temptation of making “Noll” rhyme with “Poll,” was not too great to be
- resisted by the greatest farceur of his time, in the presence of a
- humorous colleague called Oliver; and whether an impecunious but witty
- Irishman begged his greatest friend not to give him the nickname of Goldy,
- because his dignity was hurt thereby, or simply because it was tantalising
- for one to be called “Goldy,” whose connection with gold was usually so
- transitory.
- </p>
- <p>
- If people will only read the stories told of poor Goldsmith's vanity, and
- envy, and coxcombry, with a handbook of Irish humour beside them, the
- conclusion to which they will come must, we think, be that Goldsmith was
- an Irishman, and that, on the whole, he made very good fun of Boswell, who
- was a Scotsman, but that in the long run Boswell got very much the better
- of him. Scotsmen usually laugh last.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- THE BEST COMEDY OF THE CENTURY
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>E occupied one
- room in the farmhouse—the guest-chamber it had probably been called
- when the farm was young. It was a pretty spacious apartment up one pair of
- stairs and to the right of the landing, and from its window there was a
- pleasing prospect of a paddock with wheat-fields beyond; there was a drop
- in the landscape in the direction of Hendon, and here was a little wood.
- The farmer's name was Selby, a married man with a son of sixteen, and
- younger children, and the farmhouse was the nearest building to the sixth
- milestone on the Edgware Road in the year 1771.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was invariably alluded to as “The Gentleman,” and the name did very
- well for him, situated as he was in the country; in the town and among his
- acquaintances it would serve badly as a means of identification. He was
- never referred to as “The Gentleman” of his circle. In his room in the
- farmhouse there was his bed and table—a large table littered with
- books; it took two chaises to carry his books hither from his rooms in the
- Temple. Here he sat and wrote the greater part of the day, and when he was
- very busy he would scarcely be able to touch the meals which were sent up
- to him from the kitchen. But he was by no means that dignified type of the
- man of letters who would shrink from fellowship with the farmer or his
- family. He would frequently come down his stairs into the kitchen and
- stand with his back to the fire, conversing with the housewife, and
- offering her his sympathy when she had made him aware of the fact that the
- privilege of being the wife of a substantial farmer, though undoubtedly
- fully recognised by the world, carried many troubles in its train, not
- only in connection with the vicissitudes of churning, but in regard to the
- feeding of the calves, which no man could attend to properly, and the
- making of the damson and cowslip wine. He told her that the best maker of
- cowslip wine whom he had ever met was a Mrs. Primrose; her husband had at
- one time occupied the Vicarage of Wakefield—he wondered if Mrs.
- Selby had ever heard of her. Mrs. Selby's knowledge did not go so far, but
- she thought that Mrs. Primrose's recipe must be a good one indeed if it
- brought forth better results than her own; and the gentleman said that
- although he had never tasted Mrs. Selby's he would still have no
- hesitation in backing it for flavour, body, headiness, and all other
- qualities associated with the distillation of the cowslip, against the
- Primrose brand.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then he would stare at the gammon in the rafter and mutter some words,
- burst into a roar of laughter, and stumble upstairs to his writing,
- leaving the good woman to thank Heaven that she was the wife of a
- substantial farmer and not of an unsubstantial gentleman of letters, who
- could not carry on a simple conversation without having some queer thought
- fly across his brain for all the world like one of the swallows on the
- water at Hendon, only maybe a deal harder to catch. She knew that the
- gentleman had hurried to his paper and ink to complete the capture of that
- fleet-flitting thought which had come to him when he had cast his eyes
- toward the gammon, though how an idea worth putting on paper—after a
- few muttered words and a laugh—could lurk about a common piece of
- hog's-flesh was a mystery to her.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then upon occasions the gentleman would take a walk abroad; the
- farmer's son had more than once come upon him strolling about the fields
- with his hands in his pockets and his head bent toward the ground, still
- muttering fitfully and occasionally giving a laugh that made the grey pad
- in the paddock look up slowly, still munching the grass. Now and again he
- paid a visit to his friend Mr. Hugh Boyd at the village of Kenton, and
- once he returned late at night from such a visit, without his shoes. He
- had left them in a quagmire, he said, and it was only with a struggle that
- he saved himself from being engulfed as well. That was the story of his
- shoes which young Selby remembered when he was no longer young. And there
- was another story which he remembered, but it related to his slippers. The
- fact was that the gentleman had acquired the bad habit of reading in bed,
- and the table on which his candlestick stood being several feet away from
- his pillow, he saved himself the trouble of rising to extinguish it by
- flinging a slipper at it. In the morning the overturned candle was usually
- found side by side on the floor with an unaccountably greasy slipper. This
- method of discharging an important domestic duty differed considerably
- from Johnson's way of compassing the same end. Johnson, being extremely
- short-sighted, was compelled to hold the candle close to the book when
- reading in bed, so that he had no need to use his slipper as an
- extinguisher. No, but he found his pillow very handy for this purpose.
- When he had finished his reading he threw away the book and went asleep
- with his candle under his pillow.
- </p>
- <p>
- The gentleman at the farm went about a good deal in his slippers, and with
- his shirt loose at the collar—the latter must have been but one of
- his very customary negligences, or Sir Joshua Reynolds would not have
- painted him thus. Doubtless the painter had for long recognised the
- interpretative value of this loosened collar above that of the velvet and
- silk raiment in which the man sometimes appeared before the wondering eyes
- of his friends.
- </p>
- <p>
- But if the painter had never had an opportunity of studying the
- picturesqueness of his negligence, he had more than one chance of doing so
- within the farmhouse.
- </p>
- <p>
- Young Selby recollected that upon at least one occasion Sir Joshua, his
- friend Sir William Chambers, and Dr. Johnson had paid a visit to the
- gentleman who lodged at the farm. He remembered that for that reception of
- so distinguished a company the farmhouse parlour had been opened and tea
- provided. There must have been a good deal of pleasant talk between the
- gentleman and his friends at this time, and probably young Selby heard an
- astonishingly loud laugh coming from the enormous visitor with the brown
- coat and the worsted stockings, as the gentleman endeavoured to tell his
- guests something of the strange scenes which he was introducing in the
- comedy he was writing in that room upstairs. It was then a comedy without
- a name, but young Selby heard that it was produced the following year in
- London and that it was called <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- This was the second year that the gentleman had spent at the farm. The
- previous summer he had been engaged on another work which was certainly as
- comical as the comedy. It was called <i>Animated Nature</i>, and it
- comprised some of the most charmingly narrated errors in Natural History
- ever offered to the public, and the public have always been delighted to
- read pages of fiction if it is only called “Natural History.” This is one
- of the best-established facts in the history of the race. After all, <i>Animated
- Nature</i> was true to half its title: every page was animated.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was while he was so engaged, with one eye on Buffon and another on his
- MS., that he found Farmer Selby very useful to him. Farmer Selby knew a
- great deal about animals—the treatment of horses under various
- conditions, and the way to make pigs pay; he had probably his theories
- respecting the profit to be derived from keeping sheep, and how to feed
- oxen that are kept for the plough. All such knowledge he must have placed
- at the disposal of the author, though the farmer was possibly too careless
- an observer of the simple incidents of the fields to be able to verify
- Buffon's statement, reproduced in Animated Nature, to the effect that cows
- shed their horns every two years; he was probably also too deficient in
- the spirit in which a poet sets about the work of compilation to be able
- to assent to the belief that a great future was in store for the zebra
- when it should become tame and perform the ordinary duties of a horse. But
- if the author was somewhat discouraged in his speculations now and again
- by Farmer Selby, he did not allow his fancy as a naturalist to be wholly
- repressed. He had heard a story of an ostrich being ridden horsewise in
- some regions, and of long journeys being accomplished in this way in
- incredibly short spaces of time, and forthwith his imagination enabled him
- to see the day when this bird would become as amenable to discipline as
- the barn-door fowl, though discharging the tasks of a horse, carrying its
- rider across England with the speed of a racer!
- </p>
- <p>
- It was while he was engaged on this pleasant work of fancy and imagination
- that Mr. Boswell paid him a visit, bringing with him as a witness Mr.
- Mickle, the translator of the Lusiad. “The Gentleman” had gone away for
- the day, Mrs. Selby explained; but she did not know Mr. Boswell. She could
- not prevent him from satisfying his curiosity in respect of Dr. Goldsmith.
- He went upstairs to his room, and he was fully satisfied. He found the
- walls all scrawled over with outline drawings of quite a number of
- animals. Having thus satisfied himself that the author of <i>Animated
- Nature</i> was working in a thoroughly conscientious manner he came away.
- He records the incident himself, but he does not say whether or not he was
- able to recognise any of the animals from their pictures.
- </p>
- <p>
- But now it was a professed and not an unconscious comedy that occupied Dr.
- Goldsmith. Whatever disappointment he may have felt at the indifferent
- success of the first performance of <i>The Good-Natured Man</i>—and
- he undoubtedly felt some—had been amply redeemed by the money which
- accrued to him from the “author's rights” and the sale of the play; and he
- had only awaited a little encouragement from the managers to enable him to
- begin another comedy. But the managers were not encouraging, and he was
- found by his friends one day to be full of a scheme for the building of a
- new theatre for the production of new plays, in order that the existing
- managers might not be able to carry on their tyranny any longer. Such a
- scheme has been revived every decade since Goldsmith's time, but never
- with the least success. Johnson, whose sound sense was rarely at fault,
- laughed at the poet's project for bringing down the mighty from their
- seats, upon which Goldsmith cried: “Ay, sir, this matter may be nothing to
- you who can now shelter yourself behind the corner of your pension,” and
- he doubtless went on to describe the condition of the victims of the
- tyranny of which he complained; but it is questionable if his doing so
- effected more than to turn Johnson's laughter into another and a wider
- channel.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Goldsmith spoke feelingly. He was certainly one of the ablest writers
- of the day, but no pension was ever offered to him, though on every hand
- bounties were freely bestowed on the most indifferent and least deserving
- of authors—men whose names were forgotten before the end of the
- century, and during the lifetime of the men themselves remembered only by
- the pay clerk to the almoner.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course, the scheme for bringing the managers to their senses never
- reached a point of serious consideration; and forthwith Goldsmith began to
- illustrate, for the benefit of posterity, the depths to which the
- stupidity of the manager of a play-house can occasionally fall. The public
- have always had abundant proofs of the managers' stupidity afforded them
- in the form of the plays which they produce; but the history of the
- production of the most brilliant comedy of the eighteenth century is
- practically unique; for it is the history of the stupidity of a manager
- doing his best to bring about the failure of a play which he was producing
- at his own theatre. He had predicted the failure of the piece, and it must
- strike most people that the manager of a theatre who produces for a
- failure will be as successful in compassing his end as a jockey who rides
- for a fall. Colman believed that he was in the fortunate position of those
- prophets who had the realisation of their predictions in their own hands.
- He was mistaken in this particular case. Although he was justified on
- general principles in assuming his possession of this power, yet he had
- made no allowance for the freaks of genius. He was frustrated in his
- amiable designs by this incalculable force—this power which he had
- treated as a <i>quantité négligeable</i>. A man who has been accustomed
- all his life to count only on simple ability in the people about him, is,
- on suddenly being brought face to face with genius, like an astronomer who
- makes out his tables of a new object on the assumption that it is a fixed
- star, when all the time it is a comet, upsetting by its erratic course all
- his calculations, and demanding to be reckoned with from a standpoint that
- applies to itself alone.
- </p>
- <p>
- The stars of Colman's theatrical firmament were such as might safely be
- counted on; but Goldsmith's genius was not of this order. The manager's
- stupidity lay in his blunt refusal to recognise a work of genius when it
- was brought to him by a man of genius.
- </p>
- <p>
- It has been said that the central idea of the plot of <i>She Stoops to
- Conquer</i> was suggested by an incident that came under Goldsmith's
- notice before he left Ireland. However this may be, it cannot be denied
- that the playing of the practical joke of Tony Lumpkin upon the two
- travellers is “very Irish.” It would take a respectable place in the list
- of practical jokes of the eighteenth century played in Ireland. In that
- island a collector of incidents for a comedy during the past two centuries
- would require to travel with a fat notebook—so would the collector
- of incidents for a tragedy. Goldsmith's task may not have been to invent
- the central idea, but to accomplish the much more difficult duty of making
- that incident seem plausible, surrounding it with convincing scenery and
- working it out by the aid of the only characters by which it could be
- worked out with a semblance of being natural. This was a task which genius
- only could fulfil. The room whose walls bore ample testimony to its
- occupant's sense of the comedy of a writer's life, witnessed the supreme
- achievement in the “animated nature” of <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i>. It
- contains the two chief essentials to a true comedy—animation and
- nature.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is certain that the play was constructed and written by Goldsmith
- without an adviser. He was possibly shrewd enough to know that if he were
- to take counsel with any of his friends—Garrick, Johnson, Reynolds,
- or Colman—he would not be able to write the play which he had a mind
- to write. The artificial comedy had a vogue that year, and though it may
- have been laughed at in private by people of judgment, yet few of those
- within the literary circle of which Johnson was the acknowledged centre,
- would have had the courage to advise a poet writing a piece in hopes of
- making some money, to start upon a plot as farcical as Nature herself. At
- that period of elegance in art everything that was natural was pronounced
- vulgar. Shakespeare himself had to be made artificial before he could be
- played by Garrick. Goldsmith must have known that his play would be called
- vulgar, and that its chances of being accepted and produced by either of
- the managers in London would be doubtful; but, all the same, he wrote the
- piece in accordance with his own personal views, and many a time during
- the next two years he must have felt that he was a fool for doing so.
- </p>
- <p>
- However this may be, the play was finished some time in the summer of
- 1771; and on September 7th the author was back at his rooms in the Temple
- and writing to his friend Bennet Langton, whom he had promised to visit at
- his place in Lincolnshire. “I have been almost wholly in the country at a
- farmer's house, quite alone, trying to write a comedy. It is now finished,
- but when or how it will be acted, or whether it will be acted at all, are
- questions I cannot resolve,” he told Langton.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0011" id="linkimage-0011"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0241.jpg" alt="0241 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0241.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- The misgivings which he had at this time were well founded. He considered
- that the fact of his having obtained from Colman a promise to read any
- play that he might write constituted an obligation on his part to submit
- this piece to Colman rather than to Garrick. He accordingly placed it in
- Colman's hands; but it is impossible to say if the work of elaborate
- revision which Goldsmith began in the spring of 1772 was due to the
- comments made by this manager on the first draft or to the author's
- reconsideration of his work as a whole. But the amended version was
- certainly in Colman's hands in the summer of this year (1772). The
- likelihood is that Colman would have refused point-blank to have anything
- to do with the comedy after he had read the first draft had it not been
- that just at this time Goldsmith's reputation was increased to a
- remarkable extent by the publication of his Histories. It would be
- difficult to believe how this could be, but, as usual, we are indebted to
- Mr. Boswell for what information we have on this point. Boswell had been
- for some time out of London, and on returning he expressed his amazement
- at the celebrity which Goldsmith had attained. “Sir,” he cried to Johnson,
- “Goldsmith has acquired more fame than all the officers last war who were
- not generals!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, sir,” said Johnson, “you will find ten thousand fit to do what they
- did before you find one who does what Goldsmith has done”—a bit of
- dialogue that reminds one of the reply of the avaricious <i>prima donna</i>
- when the Emperor refused to accede to her terms on the plea that were he
- to pay her her price she would be receiving more than any of his marshals.
- “Eh bien, mon sire. Let your marshals sing to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- At any rate, Colman got the play—and kept it. He would give the
- author no straightforward opinion as to its prospects in his hands. He
- refused to say when he would produce it—nay, he declined to promise
- that he would produce it at all. Goldsmith was thus left in torment for
- month after month, and the effect of the treatment that he received was to
- bring on an illness, and the effect of his illness was to sink him to a
- depth of despondency that even Goldsmith had never before sounded. The
- story told by Cooke of his coming upon the unhappy man in a coffeehouse,
- and of the latter's attempt to give him some of the details of the plot of
- the comedy, speaks for itself. “I shook my head,” wrote Cooke, “and said
- that I was afraid the audience, under their then sentimental impressions,
- would think it too broad and farcical for comedy.” This was poor comfort
- for the author; but after a pause he shook the man by the hand, saying
- piteously: “I am much obliged to you, my dear friend, for the candour of
- your opinion, but it is all I can do; for alas! I find that my genius, if
- ever I had any, has of late totally deserted me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This exclamation is the most piteous that ever came from a man of genius;
- and there can be no doubt of the sincerity of its utterance, for it was
- during these miserable months that he began a new novel, but found himself
- unable to get further than a few chapters. And all this time, when, in
- order to recover his health, he should have had no worries of a lesser
- nature, he was being harassed by the trivial cares of a poor, generous
- man's life—those mosquito vexations which, accumulating, become more
- intolerable than a great calamity.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had once had great hopes of good resulting from Colman's taking up the
- management of Covent Garden, and had written congratulations to him within
- the first week of his entering into possession of the theatre. A very
- different letter he had now to write to the same man. Colman had
- endeavoured to evade the responsibility of giving him a direct answer
- about the play. He clearly meant that the onus of refusing it should lie
- at the door of some one else.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dear Sir,” wrote the author in January, 1773, “I entreat you'll release
- me from that state of suspense in which I have been kept for a long time.
- Whatever objections you have made or shall make to my play I will
- endeavour to remove and not argue about them. To bring in any new judges
- either of its merits or faults I can never submit to. Upon a former
- occasion when my other play was before Mr. Garrick he offered to bring me
- before Mr. Whitehead's tribunal, but I refused the proposal with
- indignation. I hope I shall not experience as hard treatment from you as
- from him.... For God's sake take the play and let us make the best of it,
- and let me have the same measure at least which you have given as bad
- plays as mine.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Upon receiving this letter, Colman at once returned to him the manuscript
- of the play, and on the author's unfolding it he found that on the back of
- almost every page, on the blank space reserved for the prompter's
- hieroglyphs, some sneering criticism was scrawled. To emphasise this
- insult Colman had enclosed a letter to the effect that if the author was
- still unconvinced that the piece would be a failure, he, Colman, would
- produce it.
- </p>
- <p>
- Immediately on receipt of this contemptible effort at contempt Goldsmith
- packed up the play and sent it to Garrick at Drury Lane. That same
- evening, however, he met Johnson and told him what he had done; and
- Johnson, whose judgment on the practical side of authorship was rarely at
- fault, assured him that he had done wrong and that he must get the
- manuscript back without delay, and submit to Colman's sneers for the sake
- of having the comedy produced. Upon Johnson's promising to visit Colman,
- and to urge upon him the claims of Goldsmith to his consideration, the
- distracted author wrote to Drury Lane:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Upon more mature deliberation and the advice of a sensible friend, I
- begin to think it indelicate in me to throw upon you the odium of
- confirming Mr. Colman's sentence. I therefore request that you will send
- my play by my servant back; for having been assured of having it acted at
- the other house, though I confess yours in every respect more to my wish,
- yet it would be folly in me to forgo an advantage which lies in my power
- of appealing from Mr. Colman's opinion to the judgment of the town.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Goldsmith got back the play, and Johnson explained to him, as he did some
- years later to Reynolds, that the solicitations which he had made to
- Colman to put it in rehearsal without delay amounted almost to force. At
- any rate, the play was announced and the parts distributed to the
- excellent company which Colman controlled. It was soon proved that he
- controlled some members of this company only too well. The spirit in,
- which he set about the discharge of his duties as a manager was apparent
- to every one during the earliest rehearsals. Johnson, writing to an
- American correspondent, mentioned that Colman made no secret of his belief
- that the play would be a failure. Far from it. He seems to have taken the
- most extraordinary trouble to spread his belief far and wide; and when a
- manager adopts such a course, what chance, one may ask, has the play? What
- chance, the players could not but ask, have the players?
- </p>
- <p>
- This was possibly the only occasion in the history of the English drama on
- which such questions could be asked. If managers have a fault at all—a
- question which is not yet ripe for discussion—it has never been in
- the direction of depreciating a play which they are about to produce—that
- is, of course, outside the author's immediate circle. It is only when the
- play has failed that they sometimes allow that it was a bad one, and
- incapable of being saved even by the fine acting of the company and the
- sumptuous mounting.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Colman controlled his company all too well, and after a day or two it
- was announced that the leading lady, the accomplished Mrs. Abington, had
- retired from the part of Miss Hardcastle; that Smith, known as Gentleman
- Smith, had refused to play Young Marlow; and that Woodward, the most
- popular comedian in the company, had thrown up the part of Tony Lumpkin.
- </p>
- <p>
- Here, in one day, it seemed that Colman had achieved his aims, and the
- piece would have to be withdrawn by the author. This was undoubtedly the
- managerial view of the situation which had been precipitated by the
- manager, and it was shared by those of the author's friends who understood
- his character as indifferently as did Colman. They must all have been
- somewhat amazed when the author quietly accepted the situation and
- affirmed that he would rather that his play were damned by bad players
- than merely saved by good acting. One of the company who had the sense to
- perceive the merits of the piece, Shuter, the comedian, who was cast for
- the part of old Hardcastle, advised Goldsmith to give Lewes, the
- harlequin, the part of Young Marlow; Quick, a great favourite with the
- public, was to act Tony Lumpkin; and, after a considerable amount of
- wrangling, Mrs. Bulkley, lately Miss Wilford, who had been the Miss
- Richland of <i>The Good-Natured Man</i>, accepted the part which the
- capricious Mrs. Abington resigned.
- </p>
- <p>
- Another start was made with the rehearsals of the piece, and further
- efforts were made by Colman to bring about the catastrophe which he had
- predicted. He refused to let a single scene be painted for the production,
- or to supply a single new dress; his ground being that the money spent in
- this way would be thrown away, for the audience would never allow the
- piece to proceed beyond the second act.
- </p>
- <p>
- But happily Dr. Johnson had his reputation as a prophet at stake as well
- as Colman, and he was singularly well equipped by Nature for enforcing his
- views on any subject. He could not see anything of what was going on upon
- the stage; but his laugh at the succession of humorous things spoken by
- the company must have had an inspiring effect upon every one, except
- Colman. Johnson's laugh was the strongest expression of appreciation of
- humour of which the century has a record. It was epic. To say that
- Johnson's laugh at the rehearsals of <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i> saved
- the piece would perhaps be going too far. But can any one question its
- value as a counteracting agent to Colman's depressing influence on the
- stage? Johnson was the only man in England who could make Colman (and
- every one else) tremble, and his laugh had the same effect upon the
- building in which it was delivered. It was the Sirocco against a wet
- blanket. When one thinks of the feeling of awe which was inspired by the
- name of Dr. Johnson, not only during the last forty years of the
- eighteenth century, but well into the nineteenth, one begins to appreciate
- the value of his vehement expression of satisfaction upon the people on
- the stage. Goldsmith dedicated his play to Johnson, and assuredly the
- compliment was well earned. Johnson it was who compelled Colman to produce
- the piece, and Johnson it was who encouraged the company to do their best
- for it, in spite of the fact that they were all aware that their doing
- their best for it would be resented by their manager.
- </p>
- <p>
- Reynolds also, another valuable friend to the author, sacrificed several
- of his busiest hours in order to attend the rehearsals. His sister's
- sacrifices to the same end were perhaps not quite so impressive, nor were
- those made by that ingenious “country gentleman,” Mr. Cradock, referred to
- by Walpole. Miss Horneck, his beautiful “Jessamy Bride,” and her sister,
- lately married to Mr. Bunbury, bore testimony to the strength of their
- friendship for the poet, by accompanying him daily to the theatre.
- </p>
- <p>
- But, after all, these good friends had not many opportunities of showing
- their regard for him in the same way; for the play must have had
- singularly few rehearsals. Scarcely a month elapsed between the date of
- Colman's receiving the manuscript on its being returned by Garrick and the
- production of the piece. It is doubtful if more than ten rehearsals took
- place after the parts were recast. If the manager kept the author in
- suspense for eighteen months respecting the fate of his play, he
- endeavoured to make up for his dilatoriness now. It was announced for
- Monday, March 15th, and, according to Northcote, it was only on the
- morning of that day that the vexed question of what the title should be
- was settled. For some time the author and his friends had been talking the
- matter over. “We are all in labour for a name to Goldy's play,” wrote
- Johnson. <i>The Mistakes of a Night, The Old House a New Inn, and The
- Belle's Stratagem</i> were suggested in turn. It was Goldsmith himself who
- gave it the title under which it was produced.
- </p>
- <p>
- On the afternoon of this day, March 15th, the author was the guest at a
- dinner-party organised in his honour. It is easy to picture this
- particular function. The truth was that Colman's behaviour had broken the
- spirit not only of the author, but of the majority of his friends as well.
- They would all make an effort to cheer up poor Goldsmith; but every one
- knows how cheerless a function is one that is organised with such
- charitable intentions. It is not necessary that one should have been in a
- court of law watching the face of the prisoner in the dock when the jury
- have retired to consider their verdict in order to appreciate the feelings
- of Goldsmith when his friends made their attempt to cheer him up. The last
- straw added on to the cheerlessness of the banquet was surely to be found
- in the accident that every one wore black! The King of Sardinia had died a
- short time before, and the Court had ordered mourning to be worn for some
- weeks for this potentate. Johnson was very nearly outraging propriety by
- appearing in coloured raiment, but George Steevens, who called for him to
- go to the dinner, was fortunately in time to prevent such a breach of
- etiquette. “I would not for ten pounds have seemed so retrograde to any
- general observance,” cried Johnson in offering his thanks to his
- benefactor. Happily the proprieties were saved; but what must have been
- the effect of the appearance of these gentlemen in black upon the person
- whom they meant to cheer up!
- </p>
- <p>
- Reynolds told his pupil, Northcote, what effect these resources of gaiety
- had upon Goldsmith. His mouth became so parched that he could neither eat
- nor drink, nor could he so much as speak in acknowledgment of the
- well-meant act of his friends. When the party after this entertainment set
- out for the theatre they must have suggested, all being in black, a more
- sombre procession than one is accustomed to imagine when conjuring up a
- picture of an eighteenth-century theatre party.
- </p>
- <p>
- And Goldsmith was missing!
- </p>
- <p>
- Unfortunately Boswell was not present, or we should not be left in doubt
- as to how it happened that no one thought of taking charge of Goldsmith.
- But no one seemed to think of him, and so his disappearance was never
- noticed. His friends arrived at the theatre and found their places,
- Johnson in the front row of the boxes; and the curtain was rung up, and
- Goldsmith was forgotten under the influence of that comedy which
- constitutes his greatest claim to be remembered by theatre-goers of
- to-day.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was found by an acquaintance a couple of hours later wandering in the
- Mall of St. James's Park, and was only persuaded to go to the theatre by
- its being represented to him that his services might be required should it
- be found necessary to alter something at the last moment.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now, among the members of that distinguished audience there was a man
- named Cumberland. He was the author of <i>The West Indian</i> and several
- other plays, and he was regarded as one of the leaders of the sentimental
- school, the demise of which was satirised in the prologue to this very
- play which was being performed. Cumberland was a man who could never see a
- particle of good in anything that was written by another. It was a
- standing entertainment with Garrick to “draw him on” by suggesting that
- some one had written a good scene in a play, or was about to produce an
- interesting book. In a moment Cumberland was up, protesting against the
- assumption that the play or the book could be worth anything. So wide a
- reputation had he for decrying every other author that when Sheridan
- produced <i>The Critic; or, the Tragedy Rehearsed</i>, his portrait was
- immediately recognised in Sir Fretful Plagiary.
- </p>
- <p>
- What must have been the feelings of this man when, from the first, the
- play, which he had come to wreck, was received by the whole house with
- uproarious applause? Well, we don't know what he felt like, but we know
- what he looked like. One of the newspapers described him as “looking
- glum,” and another contained a rhymed epigram describing him as weeping.
- Goldsmith entered the theatre by the stage door at the beginning of the
- fifth act, where Tony Lumpkin and his mother appear close to their own
- house, and the former pretends that the chaise has broken down on
- Crackscull Common. He had no sooner got into the “wings” than he heard a
- hiss. “What's that, sir?” he whispered to Colman, who was beside him.
- “Psha, sir! what signifies a squib when we have been sitting on a barrel
- of gunpowder all night?” was the reply. The story is well known; and its
- accuracy has never been im peached. And the next day it was well known
- that that solitary hiss came from Cumberland, the opinion that it was due
- to the malevolence of Macpherson, whose pretensions to the discovery of <i>Ossian</i>
- were exposed by Johnson, being discredited.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the effect of Colman's brutality and falsehood into the bargain had
- not a chance of lasting long. The hiss was received with cries of “Turn
- him out!” and, with an addition to the tumultuous applause of all the
- house, Goldsmith must have been made aware in another instant of the fact
- that he had written the best comedy of the day and that Colman had lied to
- him. From the first there had been no question of sitting on a barrel of
- gunpowder. Such applause could never greet the last act of a play the
- first four acts of which had been doubtful. He must have felt that at last
- he had conquered—that he had by one more achievement proved to his
- own satisfaction—and he was hard to satisfy—that those friends
- of his who had attributed genius to him had not been mistaken; that those
- who, like Johnson and Percy and Reynolds, had believed in him before he
- had written the work that made him famous, had not been misled.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next day all London was talking of <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i> and of
- Colman. Horace Walpole, who detested Goldsmith, and who found when he went
- to see the play that it was deplorably vulgar, mentioned in a letter which
- he wrote to Lady Ossory on the morning after the production that it had
- “succeeded prodigiously,” and the newspapers were full of epigrams at the
- expense of the manager. If Colman had had the sense to keep to himself his
- forebodings of the failure of the piece, he would not have left himself
- open to these attacks; but, as has been said, he took as much pains to
- decry the coming production as he usually did to “puff” other pieces. It
- would seem that every one had for several days been talking about nothing
- else save the coming failure of Dr. Goldsmith's comedy. Only on this
- assumption can one now understand the poignancy of the “squibs”—some
- of them partook largely of the character of his own barrel of gunpowder—levelled
- against Colman. He must have been quite amazed at the clamour that arose
- against him; it became too much for his delicate skin, and he fled to Bath
- to get out of the way of the scurrilous humourists who were making him a
- target for their pop-guns. But even at Bath he failed to find a refuge.
- Writing to Mrs. Thrale, Johnson said: “Colman is so distressed with abuse
- that he has solicited Goldsmith to take him off the rack of the
- newspapers.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was characteristic of Goldsmith that he should do all that was asked of
- him and that he should make no attempt, either in public or in private, to
- exult in his triumph over the manager. The only reference which he made to
- his sufferings while Colman was keeping him on the rack was in a letter
- which he wrote to his friend Cradock, who had written an epilogue for the
- play, to explain how it was that this epilogue was not used at the first
- representation. After saying simply, “The play has met with a success
- beyond your expectation or mine,” he makes his explanation, and concludes
- thus: “Such is the history of my stage adventure, and which I have at last
- done with. I cannot help saying that I am very sick of the stage, and
- though I believe I shall get three tolerable benefits, yet I shall on the
- whole be a loser, even in a pecuniary light; my ease and comfort I
- certainly lost while it was in agitation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Goldsmith showed that he bore no grudge against Colman; but the English
- stage should bear him a grudge for his treatment of one of the few authors
- of real genius who have contributed to it for the benefit of posterity. If
- <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i> had been produced when it first came into the
- manager's hands, Goldsmith would certainly not have written the words just
- quoted. What would have been the result of his accepting the encouragement
- of its production it is, of course, impossible to tell; but it is not
- going too far to assume that the genius which gave the world <i>The
- Good-Natured Man</i> and <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i> would have been
- equal to the task of writing a third comedy equal in merit to either of
- these. Yes, posterity owes Colman a grudge.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- THE JESSAMY BRIDE
- </h2>
- <h3>
- A PERSONAL NOTE
- </h3>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>OR some time after
- the publication of my novel <i>The Jessamy Bride</i> my time was fully
- occupied by replying to correspondents—strangers to me—who
- were good enough to take an interest in Mary Horneck, the younger of the
- two charming sisters with whom Goldsmith associated for several years of
- his life on terms of the warmest affection. The majority of these
- communications were of a very interesting character. Only one
- correspondent told me I should not have allowed Oliver Goldsmith to die so
- young, though two expressed the opinion that I should have made Goldsmith
- marry Mary Horneck; nearly all the remaining communications which were
- addressed to me contained inquiries as to the origin of the sobriquet
- applied to Mary Horneck in Goldsmith's epistle. To each and to all such
- inquiries I have, alas! been compelled to return the humiliating reply
- that I have not yet succeeded in finding out what was the origin of the
- family joke which made Goldsmith's allusions to “The Jessamy Bride” and
- “Little Comedy” intelligible to the “Devonshire Crew” of Hornecks and
- Reynoldses. I have searched volume after volume in the hope of having even
- the smallest ray of light thrown upon this matter, but I have met with no
- success. I began to feel, as every post brought me a sympathetic inquiry
- as to the origin of the pet name, that I should take the bold step of
- confessing my ignorance to the one gentleman who, I was confident, could
- enlighten it. “If Dr. Brewer does not know why Mary Horneck was called
- 'The Jessamy Bride,' no one alive can know it,” was what I said to myself.
- Before I could write to Dr. Brewer the melancholy new's came of his death;
- and very shortly afterwards I got a letter from his daughter, Mrs. Brewer
- Hayman, in which she mentioned that her lamented father had been greatly
- interested in my story, and asked if I could tell her what was the meaning
- of the phrase.
- </p>
- <p>
- It does certainly seem extraordinary that no biographer of Goldsmith, of
- Reynolds, or of Burke, should have thought it worth while writing a letter
- to the “Jessamy Bride” herself to ask her why she was so called by
- Goldsmith. The biographers of Goldsmith and the editors of Boswell seem to
- have had no hesitation in stating that Mary Horneck was the “Jessamy
- Bride,” and that her elder sister was “Little Comedy”; but they do not
- appear to have taken a wider view of their duties than was comprised in
- this bare statement. The gossipy Northcote was surely in the secret, and
- he might have revealed the truth without detracting from the interest of
- the many inaccuracies in his volume. Northcote had an opportunity of
- seeing daily the portrait of Mary which Sir Joshua painted, and which hung
- in his studio until the day of his death, when it passed into the
- possession of the original, who had become Mrs. Gwyn, having married
- Colonel, afterwards General, Gwyn.
- </p>
- <p>
- But although up to the present I have not obtained even as much evidence
- as would be termed a clue by the sanguine officers of Scotland Yard, as to
- the origin of the sobriquet, I am not without hope that some day one of my
- sympathetic correspondents will be able to clear up the matter for me. I
- am strengthened in this hope by the fact that among those who were kind
- enough to write to me, was a lady who can claim relationship to Mary
- Horneck, and who did not hesitate to send to me a bundle of letters,
- written in the early part of the century by the “Jessamy Bride” herself,
- with permission to copy and print any portion of the correspondence that I
- might consider of interest. Of this privilege I gladly avail myself,
- feeling sure that the interest which undoubtedly attaches to many portions
- of the letters will exculpate me for the intrusion of a personal note into
- these papers.
- </p>
- <p>
- The grandfather of my correspondent (Mrs. Cor-ballis, of Ratrath, co.
- Meath, Ireland) was first cousin to the Hornecks. He was the Rev. George
- Mangles, chaplain to George III when Mrs. Gwyn (Mary Horneck) was Woman of
- the Bedchamber to the Queen. As General Gwyn was Equerry to the King it
- can easily be understood that the two families should be on terms of the
- most intimate friendship. My correspondent mentions that her mother, who
- only died thirteen years ago, was almost every year a visitor at the house
- of Mrs. Gwyn, at Kew, and said that she retained her beauty up to the very
- last. Confirmation of this statement is to be found in a passage in the
- “Jerningham Letters.” Lady Bedingfeld's Journal contains the following
- entry opposite the date “September 19th, 1833”:
- </p>
- <p>
- “When the Queen returned to the drawing-room we found several ladies
- there. I observed a very old lady with striking remains of beauty, and
- whose features seemed very familiar to me. I felt to know her features by
- heart, and at last I heard her name, Mrs. Gwyn, the widow of a General,
- and near ninety! I had never seen her before, but when I was a girl my
- uncle the Poet, gave me a portrait of her, copied from Sir Jos. Reynolds,
- small size in a Turkish costume and attitude. This picture is still at
- Cossey, and of course must be very like her since it led me to find her
- out.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0012" id="linkimage-0012"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0261.jpg" alt="0261 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0261.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- The picture referred to must certainly have been “very like” the original,
- for it was painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds in 1772, sixty-one years before.
- The engraving of it cannot but make one feel how exquisite must have been
- the charm of Goldsmith's young friend, who survived him by sixty-six
- years; for Mrs. Gywn did not die until 1840.
- </p>
- <p>
- Very pathetic indeed it is to look at the sweet girlish face, which
- appears in this portrait and also in that of the two sisters done in chalk
- by the same master-hand, and then to read some of the passages in the
- letters in which the writer refers to her old age and feebleness. Happily,
- with Lady Bedingfeld's diary before us, our imagination is not largely
- drawn on for a picture of the “Jessamy Bride” broken down by age and
- infirmity. The woman who can be easily recognised by a stranger at
- seventy-nine by her likeness to a portrait painted at the age of eighteen,
- would make Ninon de l'Enclos envious.
- </p>
- <p>
- The letters are written to Mrs. Mangles, the widow of the Chaplain to
- George III, and the majority touch upon private matters with
- sprightliness, and occasionally a delicate humour, such as Goldsmith would
- certainly have appreciated. We seem to hear, while reading these passages,
- faint echoes of the girlish laughter which must have rung through that
- room in the inn at Calais, when Goldsmith paced up and down in a mock fury
- because two officers passing the window looked more eagerly at the girls
- than at him.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is obvious, however, that the Queen's Woman of the Bedchamber would
- write occasionally to her friend on some topic of public interest;
- consequently we find, in the course of the correspondence, many passages
- which throw a flood of light upon the incidents of the day. In a letter
- dated April 10th, 1818,
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Gwyn describes with great sprightliness the wedding of the Princess
- Elizabeth, the third daughter of George III, with Prince Hesse-Hombourgh,
- which took place three days before:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I delayed to write till after the marriage to tell you about it, as you
- seemed to wish it. We were all appointed at seven o'clock in the evening,
- when I went as smart as I could make myself. I wore the lavender sattin
- robe, the same you saw me wear at Court, as the shape was the same, and it
- <i>saved buying</i>, trimmed with silver, a new white sattin petticoat,
- with a white net and silver over it, no hoop, but a Court head dress, and
- lappets down. The Company consisting of the great officers of state, and
- ambassadors and their wives, and the different households were the
- Company.
- </p>
- <p>
- “At 8 all were assembled when the Royal family in procession according to
- their rank, went into the great drawing-room in the Queen's house. The
- Duke of York led the Queen, the Prince Regent not being quite recovered of
- his gout, and it is said the remembrance of his poor daughter's marriage
- was too painful to him to undertake it. Before the state canopy was set a
- fine communion table, red velvet and gold, all the gold plate belonging to
- that service arranged behind it, and 3 Bishops and other clergymen
- standing behind the table, it looked very magnificent. Then came the <i>Hero</i>,
- the Prince Hesse Hombourgh, he went up to the table and stood there, I
- believe 10 minutes alone, he looked well a manly unembarassed figure, then
- walked in the Bride glittering with silver and diamonds, and really looked
- very handsome, and her behaviour and manner was as well as possible, grace
- and quiet, when she knelt she wept, and then he approached nearer her in
- case her emotion would require his care, which happily was not the case.
- The Duke of York gave her away, and behaved very bad. The Prince Hombourgh
- thought when he had said I will very loud and distinct, all was done, but
- the Arch Bishop desired him to repeat after him, which he was therefore
- obliged to do. He cannot speak English and made such works of it, it was
- then the Duke of York laughed so, he was obliged to stuff his handkerchief
- in his mouth to conceal it. He promised to love her. When all was over he
- saluted his bride on each side the face, and then her hand, with a
- good-natured frank manner, then led her to the Queen, whose hand only he
- kissed, the rest of the Royal family he embraced after his own fashion,
- and he led her off with a very good air, and did not seem to trouble his
- head about his <i>English performance</i>.” The Princess Elizabeth—the
- shy young bride who was so overcome with emotion—had scarcely more
- than passed her forty-ninth year when she was borne to the altar, and the
- hero of the hour was, we learn from other sources than Mrs. Gwyn's
- letters, most unheroically sick when driving away in a close carriage with
- his bride.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Prince Regent's daughter, the Princess Charlotte, had died the
- previous year, hence the marrying panic which seized all the other members
- of the Royal Family, lest the dynasty should become extinct. It is
- pleasing to reflect that such gloomy apprehensions have since been amply
- averted.
- </p>
- <p>
- Regarding the death of the Princess Charlotte Mrs. Gwyn writes:
- </p>
- <p>
- “... While I was at Oatlands the Prince Leopold came to see the Duchess
- and staid there 3 hours, no one but the Duchess saw him—she told me
- he is more composed in his manners now when seen by people in general but
- with her alone his grief seems the same and he is gratified by being
- allowed to vent it to one who feels for him and knows how to soothe his
- mind. I can not doubt the Princess's life and his child's were thrown
- away, by mismanagement—she was so bled and starved she had no
- strength left—her own fortitude and energy supported her till nature
- could no more. I could tell you much on the subject but it would take up
- too much in a letter and besides <i>it is over</i>. Dr. Crofts thought he
- was doing for the best no doubt—It comes to what <i>I</i> always say
- of them—they can't do much and are very often wrong in their
- opinions as you can vouch....”
- </p>
- <p>
- In another letter Mrs. Gywn's adopted daughter was her amanuensis. It
- contains many paragraphs of interest, especially to present-day readers.
- The girl writes:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mamma was of course summoned to attend the Duke of Cambridge's Wedding,
- but she was not in the room when the Ceremony was performed as before, on
- account of the Queen having been ill. Mamma admires the Duchess of
- Cambridge very much: though she is not exactly handsome, she is very
- pleasing, and a pretty figure, but I understand she must have a new stay
- maker to set her up etc. The Duke of Kent and his bride are now expected.
- The Duke of Clarence it is expected will be married shortly afterwards. We
- hear the Duchess of Kent is a little woman with a handsome face, and the
- Duchess of Clarence uncommonly ugly. We went to Windsor about a month ago
- to see Princess Sophia as the Queen was not there, and Princess Sophia has
- a small party every night. We were there three days, and Mamma went to the
- party every evening, and indeed it was very very dull for her as they play
- one pool of Commerce, and then they go to a game called Snip, Snap,
- Snorum, and which Mamma could not play at well without a great deal of
- trouble to herself, therefore she was obliged to look on for perhaps an
- hour and half which you may imagine was terrible for her not hearing a
- word. I was much pleased in one respect while I was there by seeing Dear
- Prince Leopold whom I had never seen before, and who must be to every body
- an object of so much interest. He looked to me the picture of grief and
- melancholy, but those who have seen him repeatedly since his misfortune
- say he improves every time they see him. Mrs. C.... went one day to see
- Claremont and was very much pleased. All remains as Princess Charlotte
- left it, but nobody sees her room in which she died but himself, even her
- combs and brushes are untouched, and her hat and cloak are where she laid
- them the day before she died. There are models of her hand and arm one in
- particular as it is his hand clasped in hers. I suppose you have often
- heard she had a very beautiful hand and arm, but I will not go on, on so
- melancholy a subject; yet I am sure it must interest you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Princess Sophia, who instituted the fascinating game referred to in
- this letter, was, of course, the fifth daughter of George III.
- </p>
- <p>
- In another letter reference is made to a certain scandal, which Mrs. Gwyn
- contradicts most vehemently. Even nowadays this particular bit of gossip
- is remembered by some persons; but at the risk of depriving these pages of
- the piquancy which attaches to a Court scandal, I will not quote it, but
- conclude this Personal Note with what seems to me a most pathetic account
- of the dying king:
- </p>
- <p>
- “We continue in a state of great anxiety about our dear King, whose state
- is distressing. Certainly no hope of recovery, and the chances of his
- continuance very doubtful. His death may be any day, any hour, or he may
- continue some <i>little</i> time longer, it depends on nature holding out
- against sore disease, which afflicts him universally, and occasions great
- suffering, this is heartbreaking to hear! and his patience and courage and
- sweet and kind behaviour to all about him is most touching, so
- affectionate to his friends and attendants, and thankful for their
- attention and feeling for him. He will hold the hand of the Duchess of
- Gloster or S. H. Halford for an hour at a time out of tenderness, till
- excessive suffering ends it. He wishes to die in peace and charity with
- all the world, and has reconciled himself to the Duke of Sussex. He hopes
- his people have found him a merciful King. He says he never hurt anyone,
- and that, he may truly say as his first wish to <i>all</i> was good and
- benevolent, and ever ready to forgive.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- THE AMAZING ELOPEMENT
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>N a certain
- evening in March, 1772, the fashionable folk of Bath were as earnestly on
- pleasure bent as they were wont to be at this season—and every
- other. The Assembly Rooms were open, a performance was going on at the
- theatre, the Cave of Harmony was as musical as Pyrrha's Grotto, a
- high-class concert was taking place under the conductorship of the
- well-known Mr. Linley, and the Countess of Huntingdon was holding a prayer
- meeting. For people who took their diversions <i>à la carte</i>, there was
- a varied and an abundant menu. Chairs containing precious structures of
- feathers, lace, and jewels towering over long faces powdered and patched
- and painted <i>à la mode</i>, were swinging along the streets in every
- direction, some with a brace of gold-braided lackeys by each of the
- windows, but others in charge only of the burly chairmen.
- </p>
- <p>
- Unobtrusive among the latter class of conveyance was one that a young
- gentleman, a tall and handsome lad, called from its rank between
- Pierrepont Street and the South Parade. He gave the bearers instructions
- to hasten to the house of Mr. Linley in the Crescent, and to inquire if
- Miss Linley were ready.
- </p>
- <p>
- If she were not, he told them that they were to wait for her and carry out
- her directions. The fellows touched their hats and swung off with their
- empty chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- The young man then went to a livery stable, and putting a few confidential
- inquiries to the proprietor, received a few confidential replies,
- accentuated by a wink or two, and a certain quick uplifting of a knuckly
- forefinger that had an expression of secretiveness of its own.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mum's the word, sir, and mum it shall be,” whispered the man. “I stowed
- away the trunk, leaving plenty of room for the genuine luggage—lady's
- luggage, Mr. Sheridan. You know as well as I can tell you, sir, being
- young but with as shrewd knowingness of affairs in general as might be
- looked for in the son of Tom Sheridan, to say nought of a lady like your
- mother, meaning to take no liberty in the world, Mr. Dick, as they call
- you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm obliged to you, Denham, and I'll not forget you when this little
- affair is happily over. The turn by the 'Bear' on the London Road, we
- agreed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And there you'll find the chaise, sir, and as good a pair as ever left my
- stable, and good luck to you, sir!” said the man.
- </p>
- <p>
- Young Mr. Sheridan then hastened to his father's house in King's Mead
- Street, and was met by an anxious sister in the hall.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good news, I hope, Dick?” she whispered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have been waiting for you all the evening. She has not changed her
- mind, I hope.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She is as steadfast as I am,” said he. “If I could not swear that she
- would be steadfast, I would not undertake this business on her behalf.
- When I think of our father——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don't think of him except as applauding your action,” said the girl.
- “Surely every one with the least spark of generosity will applaud your
- action, Dick.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wouldn't like to say so much,” said Dick, shaking his head. “Mathews
- has his friends. No man could know so much about whist as he does without
- having many friends, even though he be a contemptible scoundrel when he is
- not employed over a rubber.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who will dare to take the part of Mr. Mathews against you, Dick?” cried
- his sister, looking at him proudly as the parlour candles shone upon him.
- “I would that I could go with you as far as London, dear, but that would
- be impossible.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Quite impossible; and where would be the merit in the end?” said Dick,
- pacing the room as he believed a man of adventure and enterprise would in
- the circumstances. “You may trust to me to place her in safety without the
- help of any one.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know it, Dick, I know it, dear, and I am proud of you,” said she,
- putting her arms about his neck and kissing him. “And look you here,
- Dick,” she added, in a more practical tone. “Look you here—I find
- that I can spare another five pounds out of the last bill that came from
- Ireland. We shall live modestly in this house until you return to us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He took the coins which she offered to him wrapped up in a twist of
- newspaper; but he showed some hesitation—she had to go through a
- form of forcing it upon him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hope to bring it back to you unbroken,” he murmured; “but in affairs of
- this sort it is safest to have a pound or two over, rather than under,
- what is barely needful. That is why I take your coins,—a loan—a
- sacred loan. Good-bye, I returned only to say good-bye to you, my dearest
- sister.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I knew your good heart, Dick, that was why I was waiting for you.
- Good-bye, Dick, and God bless you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He was putting on his cloak in the hall. He saw that the pistols were in
- its pockets, and then he suffered his sister to give him another kiss
- before he passed into the dark street.
- </p>
- <p>
- He felt for his pistols, and with a hand on each he felt that he was
- indeed fairly launched upon a great adventure.
- </p>
- <p>
- He made his way to the London road, and all the time he was wondering if
- the girl would really come to him in the Sedan chair which he had sent for
- her. To be sure she had promised to come upon this evening, but he knew
- enough of the great affairs of this world to be well aware of the fact
- that the sincerest promise of a maid may be rendered worthless by the
- merest freak of Fate. Therefore, he knew that he did well to be doubtful
- respecting the realisation of her promise. She was the beautiful Miss
- Linley—every one in Bath knew her, and this being so, was it not
- likely that some one—some prying person—some impudent fellow
- like that Mathews who had been making love to her, although he had a wife
- of his own in Wales—might catch a glimpse of her face through the
- glass of the chair when passing a lamp or a link, and be sufficiently
- curious to follow her chair to see whither she was going?
- </p>
- <p>
- That was a likely enough thing to happen, and if it did happen and the
- alarm of his flight with her were given, what chance would he have of
- carrying out his purpose? Why, the chaise would be followed, and even if
- it was not overtaken before London was reached, the resting-place of the
- fugitives would certainly be discovered in London, and they should be
- ignominiously brought back to Bath. Yes, unless Mathews were the pursuer,
- in which case——
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Richard Brinsley Sheridan grasped more firmly the butt of the pistol
- in the right-hand pocket of his cloak. He felt at that moment that should
- Mathews overtake them, the going back to Bath would be on the part only of
- Mathews.
- </p>
- <p>
- But how would it be if Mr. Linley had become apprised of his daughter's
- intention to fly from Bath? He knew very well that Mr. Linley had the best
- of reasons for objecting to his daughter's leaving Bath. Mr. Linley's
- income was increased by several hundred pounds by reason of the payments
- made to him on account of his daughter's singing in public, and he was—very
- properly, considering his large family—fond of money. Before he had
- to provide for his family, he took good care that his family—his
- eldest daughter particularly—helped to provide for him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doubtless these eventualities were suggested to him—for young Mr.
- Sheridan was not without imagination—while on his way through the
- dark outskirts of the beautiful city to the London Road. The Bear Inn was
- just beyond the last of the houses. It stood at the junction of the London
- Road and a narrower one leading past a couple of farms. It was here that
- he had given instructions for the chaise to wait for him, and here he
- meant to wait for the young lady who had promised to accompany him to
- London—and further.
- </p>
- <p>
- He found the chaise without trouble. It was under the trees not more than
- a hundred yards down the lane, but the chair, with Miss Linley, had not
- yet arrived, so he returned to the road and began to retrace his steps,
- hoping to meet it, yet with some doubts in his mind. Of course, he was
- impatient. Young gentlemen under twenty-one are usually impatient when
- awaiting the arrival of the ladies who have promised to run away with
- them. He was not, however, kept in suspense for an unconscionably long
- time. He met the chair which he was expecting just when he had reached the
- last of the lamps of Bath, and out of it stepped the muffled form of Miss
- Linley. The chairmen were paid with a lavish hand, and Dick Sheridan and
- Betsy Linley walked on to the chaise without exchanging any but a friendly
- greeting—there was nothing lover-like in their meeting or their
- greeting. The elopement was not that of a young woman with her lover; it
- was, we are assured, that of a young woman anxious to escape from the
- intolerable position of being the most popular person in the most
- fashionable city in England, to the peaceful retreat of a convent; and the
- young man who was to take charge of her was one whom she had chosen for
- her guardian, not for her lover. Dick Sheridan seems to have been the only
- young man in Bath who had never made love to Elizabeth Linley. His elder
- brother, Charles by name, had discharged this duty on behalf of the
- Sheridan family, and he was now trying to live down his disappointment at
- being refused, at a farmhouse a mile or two away. The burden was greater
- than he could bear when surrounded by his sisters in their father's house
- in King's Mead Street.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0013" id="linkimage-0013"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0277.jpg" alt="0277 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0277.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- Elizabeth Linley was certainly the most popular young woman in Bath; she
- certainly was the most beautiful. The greatest painters of her day made
- masterpieces of her portrait, and for once, posterity acknowledges that
- the fame of her beauty was well founded. So spiritual a face as hers is to
- be seen in no eighteenth-century picture except that of Miss Linley; one
- has need to go back to the early Italian painters to find such
- spirituality in a human face, and then one finds it combined with absolute
- inanity, and the face is called Divine. Reynolds painted her as Saint
- Cecilia drawing down angels, and blessedly unconscious of her own powers,
- thinking only of raising herself among angels on the wings of song. His
- genius was never better employed and surely never more apparent than in
- the achievement of this picture. Gainsborough painted her by the side of
- her younger brother, and one feels that if Reynolds painted a saint,
- Gainsborough painted a girl. It was Bishop O'Beirne, an old friend of her
- family and acquainted with her since her childhood, who said: “She is a
- link between an angel and a woman.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And this exquisite creature had a voice of so sympathetic a quality that
- no one could hear it unmoved. Her father had made her technique perfect.
- He was a musician who was something more than painstaking. He had taste of
- the highest order, and it is possible to believe that in the training of
- his eldest daughter he was wise enough to limit his instruction to the
- technicalities of his art, leaving her to the inspiration of her own
- genius in regard to the treatment of any theme which he brought before
- her.
- </p>
- <p>
- At any rate her success in the sublimest of all oratorios was far beyond
- anything that could be achieved by an exhibition of the finest technical
- qualities; and Mr. Linley soon became aware of the fact that he was the
- father of the most beautiful and the most highly gifted creature that ever
- made a father miserable.
- </p>
- <p>
- Incidentally she made a great many other men miserable, but that was only
- because each of them wanted her to make him happy at the expense of the
- others, and this she was too kind-hearted to do. But the cause of her
- father's grief was something different. It was due to the fact that the
- girl was so sensitive that she shrank from every exhibition of herself and
- her ability on a public platform. It was an agony to her to hear the
- tumultuous applause that greeted her singing at a concert or in an
- oratorio. She seemed to feel—let any one look at the face which is
- to be seen in her portrait, and one will understand how this could be—that
- music was something too spiritual to be made the medium only for the
- entertainment of the multitude. Taking the highest imaginable view of the
- scope and value and meaning of music, it can be understood that this girl
- should shrink from such an ordeal as the concert platform offered to her
- every time she was announced to sing. No more frivolous and fashionable a
- population than that of Bath in the second half of the eighteenth century
- was to be found in any city in the world; and Elizabeth Linley felt that
- she was regarded by the concert-goers as no more than one of the numerous
- agents they employed to lessen the ennui of an empty day. The music which
- she worshipped—the spirit with which her soul communed in secret—was,
- she felt, degraded by being sold to the crowd and subjected to the
- patronage of their applause.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course when she spoke to her father in this strain he sympathised with
- her, and bemoaned the fate that made it necessary for him to have her
- assistance to save her mother and brothers and sisters from starvation.
- And so for several years she was an obedient child, but very weary of the
- rôle. She sang and enchanted thousands. She did not, however, think of
- them; her mind dwelt daily upon the tens of thousands who regarded her
- (she thought) as fulfilling no nobler purpose than to divert them for half
- an hour between taking the waters and sitting down to faro or quadrille.
- </p>
- <p>
- But it was not alone her distaste for the publicity of the platform that
- made her miserable. The fact was that she was distracted by suitors. She
- had, it was said, accepted the offer of an elderly gentleman named Long,
- the wealthy head of a county family in the neighbourhood; and Foote, with
- his usual vulgarity, which took the form of personality, wrote a play—a
- wretched thing even for Foote—in which he dealt with an imaginarily
- comic and a certainly sordid situation, with Miss Linley on the one side
- and Mr. Long on the other. Serious biographers have not hesitated to
- accept this situation invented by the notorious <i>farceur</i>, who was no
- greater a respecter of persons than he was of truth, as a valuable
- contribution to the history of the Linley family, especially in regard to
- the love affair of the lovely girl by whose help they were made famous.
- They have never thought of the possibility of her having accepted Mr. Long
- in order to escape from her horror of the concert platform. They have
- never suggested the possibility of Mr. Long's settling a sum of money on
- her out of his generosity when he found out that Miss Linley did not love
- him.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was not Mr. Long, however, but a man named Mathews—sometimes
- referred to as Captain, occasionally as Major—who was the immediate
- cause of her running away with young Sheridan. This man Mathews was known
- to be married, and to be in love with Elizabeth Linley, and yet he was
- allowed to be constantly in her company, pestering her with his
- attentions, and there was no one handy to horsewhip him. Sheridan's
- sister, who afterwards married Mr. Lefanu, wrote an account of this
- curious matter for the guidance of Thomas Moore, who was preparing his
- biography of her brother. She stated that Miss Linley was afraid to tell
- her father of Major Mathews and his impossible suit, and so she was “at
- length induced to consult Richard Sheridan, whose intimacy with Major
- Mathews, at the time, she thought might warrant his interference.” And
- then we are told that “R. B. Sheridan sounded Mathews on the subject and
- at length prevailed on him to give up the pursuit.”
- </p>
- <p>
- That is how the adoring sister of “R. B. Sheridan,” who had been talking
- to Elizabeth Linley of him as of a knight-errant, eager to redress the
- wrongs of maidens in distress, wrote of her brother! He “sounded Mathews
- on the subject.” On what subject? The subject was the pursuit of an
- innocent girl by a contemptible scoundrel. How does the knight-errant
- “sound” such a person when he sets out to redress the maiden's
- ill-treatment? One R. B. Sheridan, a dramatist, gives us a suggestion as
- to what were his ideas on this point: “Do you think that Achilles or my
- little Alexander the Great ever enquired where the right lay? No, sir,
- they drew their broadswords and left the lazy sons of peace to settle the
- rights of the matter.” Now young Sheridan, who is reported by his sister
- as “sounding” Mathews, was no coward. He proved himself to be anything but
- afraid of Mathews, so that one must, out of justice to him, assume that
- the only attempt he would have made to “sound” the scoundrel at this time
- would be through the medium of a sound hiding.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is at such a point as this in the biography of an interesting man that
- one blesses the memory—and the notebook—of the faithful
- Boswell. Thomas Moore was quite intimate with Richard Brinsley Sheridan,
- but he never thought of asking him for some information on this particular
- incident in his life, the fact being that he had no definite intention of
- becoming his biographer. We know perfectly well how Boswell would have
- plied Johnson with questions on the subject, had it ever come to his ears
- that Johnson had undertaken to play the rôle of a knight-errant.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pray, sir, what did you say to Mathews when you sounded him?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you think, sir, that in any circumstances a married gentleman who is
- showing marked attentions to a virtuous young lady should be sounded by a
- young gentleman who has been entrusted with the duty of protecting the
- lady?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Alas! instead of the unblushing indelicacy of Boswell, who hunted for
- trifles as a pig hunts for truffles, we are obliged to be content with the
- vagueness of a sister, whose memory, we have an uneasy feeling, was not
- quite so good as she thought it was.
- </p>
- <p>
- And from the memory of this sister we have an account of the amazing
- elopement of Richard Sheridan with Elizabeth Linley.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the young gentleman put her into the chaise that was waiting for them
- on the London road, Miss Linley had never thought of him except as a kind
- friend. She had accepted his services upon this occasion as she would
- those of a courier to conduct her to London, and thence to France, where
- she intended to enter a convent. The Miss Sheridans had lived in France,
- and had some friends at St.
- </p>
- <p>
- Quentin, who knew of a very nice clean convent—an establishment
- which they could strongly recommend, and where she could find that
- complete seclusion which Miss Linley longed for, and their brother Dick
- was thought to be a very suitable companion for her on her way thither.
- Mrs. Lefanu (<i>née</i> Sheridan), who wrote out the whole story in after
- years, mentioned that her chivalrous brother was to provide a woman to act
- as her maid in the chaise; but as not the least reference to this chaperon
- is to be found in the rest of the story, we fear that it must be assumed
- either that her brother forgot this unimportant detail, or that the detail
- was unavoidably detained in Bath. What is most likely of all is that the
- solitary reference to this mysterious female was dovetailed, somewhat
- clumsily, into the narrative, at the suggestion of some Mrs. Grundy, who
- shook her head at the narrative of so much chivalry unsupported by a
- responsible chaperon. However this may be, the shadowy chaperon is never
- alluded to again; she may have faded away into the mists of morning and
- London, or she may have vanished at the first turnpike. Nothing was seen
- or heard of her subsequently.
- </p>
- <p>
- The boy and the girl reached London in safety, and drove to the house of a
- Mr. Ewart, a relation of the Sheridans, to whom Dick offered the
- explanation of his unconventional visit on the very plausible grounds of
- his being engaged to the young lady, a great heiress, whom he was
- hastening to France to marry. Of course the Ewart family were perfectly
- satisfied with this explanation; and another friend, who had indisputable
- claims to consideration, being, we are told, “the son of a respectable
- brandy merchant in the City,” suggested that they should sail from London
- to Dunkirk, “in order to make pursuit more difficult.” How such an end
- could be compassed by such means is left to the imagination of a reader.
- The young pair, however, jumped at the suggestion, and reached Dunkirk
- after an uneventful crossing.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is at this point in the sister's account of the itinerary of this
- interesting enterprise that she mentions that Richard suddenly threw away
- the disguise of the chivalrous and disinterested protector of the young
- lady, and declared that he would not consent to conduct her to the convent
- unless she agreed to marry him immediately. Mrs. Lefanu's exact words are
- as follows: “After quitting Dunkirk Mr. Sheridan was more explicit with
- Miss Linley as to his views on accompanying her to France.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This is certainly a very lawyer-like way of condoning the conduct of a
- mean scoundrel; but, happily for the credit of Richard Brinsley Sheridan,
- it is the easiest thing in the world to discredit his sister's narrative,
- although she adds that he urged on the girl what would seem to a casual
- observer of society in general to be perfectly true—“she must be
- aware that after the step she had taken, she could not appear in England
- but as his wife.” As the sequel proved this alleged statement was quite
- untrue! She did appear in England, and not as his wife, and no one seemed
- to think anything the worse of her on account of her escapade. But to
- suggest that Sheridan took advantage of the trust which the innocent girl
- had reposed in him to compel her to marry him, a penniless minor with no
- profession and very little education, is scarcely consistent with an
- account of his high-mindedness and his sense of what was chivalrous.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then the sister pleasantly remarks that “Miss Linley, who really
- preferred him greatly to any person, was not difficult to persuade, and at
- a village not far from Calais the marriage ceremony was performed by a
- priest who was known to be often employed upon such occasions.” Whoever
- this clergyman may have been, it is impossible for any one to believe that
- in the discharge of his office he was kept in constant employment; for
- “such occasions” as answered to the account given by the Sheridan sister
- of the nuptials of the young couple, must have been extremely rare.
- </p>
- <p>
- And yet Moore, on whom the responsibilities of a biographer rested very
- lightly, was quite content to accept as strictly accurate the narrative of
- Mrs. Lefanu, contradicted though it was by subsequent events in which both
- her brother and Miss Linley were concerned. Moore does not seem to have
- troubled himself over any attempt to obtain confirmation of one of the
- most important incidents in the life of the man of whom he was writing.
- </p>
- <p>
- He made no attempt to discover if the accommodating priest at the village
- near Calais was still alive when he was compiling his biography of
- Sheridan, and it was not beyond the bounds of possibility that he was
- still alive; nor did this easy-going Irish master of melodies consider
- that it devolved on him to try to find some record of the marriage in
- question.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now what happened after this remarkable union? The narrative of the sister
- is quite as circumstantial as one could wish it to be, and even more
- imaginative. But whatever qualities of excellence it possesses, it
- certainly does not carry to a reader any conviction of accuracy. It states
- that the interesting young couple went to Lille instead of carrying out
- their original intention of going to St. Quentin, and that Miss Linley—now
- Mrs. Sheridan, of course—“immediately secured an apartment in a
- convent, where it was settled she was to remain either till Sheridan came
- of age or till he was in a situation to support a wife. He remained a few
- days at Lille to be satisfied that she was settled to her satisfaction;
- but, whether from agitation of mind or fatigue, she was taken ill, and an
- English physician, Dr. Dolman, of York, was called in to attend her. From
- what he perceived of her case he wished to have her more immediately under
- his care than he could in the convent, and he and Mrs. Dolman most kindly
- invited her to their house.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This would seem to have been very kind indeed on the part of the doctor
- and his wife, but it so happened that a letter turned up some years ago
- which the late Mr. Fraser Rae was able to print in the first volume of his
- admirable <i>Life of Sheridan</i>, and this letter makes it plain that
- wherever Mrs. Sheridan (<i>née</i> Linley) may have been, she was not
- sojourning with the Dolmans. It is from Dr. Dolman himself, and it was
- addressed to “Monsieur Sherridan, Gentilhomme Anglois, à l'Hôtel de
- Bourbon, Sur la Grande Place.” It recommends the administering of certain
- powders in a glass of white wine twice daily, and sends “compliments and
- wishes of health to your lady.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The question then remains: Was the lady at this time an inmate of the
- convent, and did the doctor expect “Monsieur Sherridan” to go to this
- institution twice a day in order to administer the powders to his lady?
- Would not the doctor think it somewhat peculiar that the husband should be
- at the Hôtel de Bourbon and his lady an inmate of the convent?
- </p>
- <p>
- These questions must be left to be answered according to the experience of
- life of any one interested in the matter. But it is worth noticing that,
- on the very day that he received the missive from Dr. Dolman, Sheridan
- wrote to his brother at Bath and mentioned that Miss Linley—he
- continued to call her Miss Linley—was now “fixing in a convent,
- where she has been entered some time.” Does the first phrase mean that she
- was already in the convent, or only about to take up her residence there?
- However this question may be answered, it is clear that Sheridan expected
- to leave her behind him at Lille, for he adds, “Everything is now so
- happily settled here I will delay no longer giving you that information,
- though probably I shall set out for England without knowing a syllable of
- what has happened with you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- So far, then, as his emprise in regard to the lady was concerned, he
- considered the incident to be closed. “Though you may have been ignorant
- for some time of our proceedings, you could never have been uneasy,” he
- continues hopefully, “lest anything should tempt me to depart, even in a
- thought, from the honour and consistency which engaged me at first.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Some people have suggested that Sheridan, when he drew the character of
- Charles Surface, meant it to be something of an excuse for his own casual
- way of life. But it must strike a good many persons who believe that he
- induced the innocent girl, whom he set forth to protect on her way to a
- refuge from the infamous designs of Mathews, to marry him, that Sheridan
- approached much more closely to the character of Joseph in this
- correspondence with his brother. A more hypocritical passage than that
- just quoted could hardly have been uttered by Joseph Surface. As a matter
- of fact, one of Joseph's sentiments is only a paraphrase of this unctuous
- assumption of honour and consistency.
- </p>
- <p>
- But this criticism is only true if one can believe his sister's story of
- the marriage. If it is true that Sheridan set out from England with Miss
- Linley with the intention of so compromising her that she should be
- compelled to marry him, at the same time pretending to her and to his
- brother to be actuated by the highest motives in respect of the ill-used
- girl, it is impossible to think of him except with contempt.
- </p>
- <p>
- Happily the weight of evidence is overpoweringly in Sheridan's favour. We
- may think of him as a rash, an inconsiderate, and a culpably careless boy
- to take it upon him to be the girl's companion to the French convent, but
- we refuse to believe that he was ever capable of acting the grossly
- disingenuous part attributed to him by his sister, and accepted without
- question by his melodious biographer. There are many people, however, who
- believe that when a man marries a woman, no matter in what circumstances,
- he has “acted the part of a gentleman” in regard to her, and must be held
- to be beyond reproach on any account whatsoever so far as the woman is
- concerned. In the eyes of such censors of morality, as in the eyes of the
- law, the act of marriage renders null and void all ante-nuptial deeds; and
- it was probably some impression of this type which was acquired by
- Sheridan's sister, inducing her to feel sure (after a time) that her
- brother's memory would suffer if his biographer were to tell the story of
- his inconsiderate conduct in running away with Elizabeth Linley, unless it
- was made clear that he married her the first moment he had to spare. She
- tried to save her brother's memory by persuading her own to accommodate
- itself to what she believed to be her brother's emergency. She was a good
- sister, and she kept her memory well under control.
- </p>
- <p>
- But what did the father of the young lady think of the matter? What did
- the people of Bath, who were well acquainted with all the actors engaged
- in this little comedy, think of the matter? Happily these questions can be
- answered by appealing to facts rather than to the well-considered
- recollections of a discreet lady.
- </p>
- <p>
- We know for certain that Mr. Linley, who was, as one might suppose, fully
- equipped to play the part of the enraged father of the runaway girl,
- turned up at the place of her retreat—he had no trouble in learning
- in what direction to look for her—and having found her and the young
- gentleman who had run away with her, did he, under the impulse of his
- anger, fanned by his worldly knowledge, insist with an uplifted horsewhip
- upon his marrying her without a moment's delay? Mr. Linley knew Bath, and
- to know Bath was to know the world. Was he, then, of the same opinion as
- that expressed (according to his sister's narrative) by young Sheridan to
- persuade Miss Linley to be his bride—namely, that it would be
- impossible for her to show her face in Bath unless as the wife of Richard
- Brinsley Sheridan?
- </p>
- <p>
- Nothing of the sort. Whatever reproaches he may have flung at his
- daughter, however strong may have been his denunciation of the conduct of
- the man who had run away with her, they had not the effect either of
- inducing his daughter or her companion to reveal to him the fact that they
- had been married for several days, or of interrupting the friendly
- relations that had existed for nearly two years between himself and young
- Sheridan. The dutiful memory of Miss Sheridan records that Mr. Linley,
- “after some private conversation with Mr. Sheridan, appeared quite
- reconciled to his daughter, but insisted on her returning to England with
- him (Mr. Linley) to fulfil several engagements he had entered into on her
- account. The whole party set out together the next day, Mr. Linley having
- previously promised to allow his daughter to return to Lille when her
- engagements were over.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The comedy of the elopement had become a farce of the “whimsical” type.
- Nothing more amusing or amazing has ever been seen on the vaudeville
- stage. The boy and the girl run off together and get married. The
- infuriated father follows them, ruthlessly invades their place of refuge,
- and then, “after some private conversation” with his daughter's husband,
- who does not tell him that he is her husband, says to the young woman, “My
- dear, you must come home with me to sing at a concert.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Certainly, papa,” replies the girl. “Wait a minute, and I'll go too,”
- cries the unconfused husband of the daughter. “All right, come along,”
- says the father, and they all take hands and sing the ridiculous trio
- which winds up the vaudeville after it has run on inconsequentially for a
- merry forty minutes—there is a <i>pas de trois</i>, and the curtain
- falls!
- </p>
- <p>
- Alas, for the difference between Boswell the bald and Moore the melodious!
- The bald prose of Boswell's diaries may have made many of the personages
- with whom he dealt seem silly, but that was because he himself was silly,
- and, being aware of this fact, the more discriminating of his readers have
- no great difficulty in arriving at the truth of any matter with which he
- deals. He would never have accepted unreservedly such a narrative as that
- which Moore received from Mrs. Lefanu (<i>née</i> Sheridan), and put into
- his own language, or as nearly into his own language as he could. But
- Moore found it “so hard to narrate familiar events eloquently,” he
- complained. He actually thought that Mrs. Lefanu's narrative erred on the
- side of plausibility! The mysterious elopement, the still more mysterious
- marriage, and the superlatively mysterious return of the fugitives and the
- irate father hand-in-hand, he regarded as events so commonplace as not to
- be susceptible of lyrical treatment. But the most farcical of the doings
- of his own <i>Fudge Family</i> were rational in comparison with the
- familiar events associated with the flight to France of his hero and
- heroine. The <i>Trip to Scarborough</i> of Sheridan the farce-writer was
- founded on much more “familiar events” than this extraordinary trip to
- Lille, as narrated for the benefit of the biographer by Mrs. Lefanu.
- </p>
- <p>
- What seems to be the truth of the whole matter is simply that Sheridan
- undertook to be a brother to Elizabeth Linley, and carried out his compact
- faithfully, without allowing anything to tempt him to depart, as he wrote
- to Charles, “even in thought from the honour and consistency which engaged
- [him] at first.” It must be remembered that he was a romantic boy of
- twenty, and this is just the age at which nearly every boy—especially
- a boy in love—is a Sir Galahad. As for Miss Linley, one has only to
- look at her portrait to know what she was. She was not merely innocent,
- she was innocence itself.
- </p>
- <p>
- When Mr. Linley appeared at Lille he accepted without reserve the
- explanation offered to him by his daughter and by Sheridan; and, moreover,
- he knew that although there was a school for scandal located at Bath, yet
- so highly was his daughter thought of in all circles, and so greatly was
- young Sheridan liked, that no voice of calumny would be raised against
- either of them when they returned with him. And even if it were possible
- that some whisper, with its illuminating smile above the arch of a painted
- fan, might be heard in the Assembly Rooms when some one mentioned the name
- of Miss Linley in connection with that of young Sheridan and with the trip
- to Lille, he felt convinced that such a whisper would be robbed of its
- sting when every one knew that the girl and the boy and the father all
- returned together and on the best terms to Bath.
- </p>
- <p>
- As the events proved, he had every right to take even so sanguine a view
- of the limitations of the range of the Pump Room gossips. On the return of
- the three from Lille no one suggested that Sheridan and Miss Linley should
- get married. No one except the scoundrel Mathews suggested that Sheridan
- had acted badly or even unwisely, though undoubtedly he had given grounds
- for such implications. The little party returned to Bath, and Miss Linley
- fulfilled her concert and oratorio engagements, went into society as
- before, and had at her feet more eligible suitors than had ever knelt
- there. We have it on the authority of Charles Sheridan, the elder brother,
- that in Bath the feeling was that Richard had acted as a man of honour in
- taking the girl to the convent at Lille. Writing to their uncle, Mr.
- Chamberlaine, he expressed surprise that “in this age when the world does
- not abound in Josephs, most people are (notwithstanding the general
- tendency of mankind to judge unfavourably) inclined to think that he
- (Richard) acted with the strictest honour in his late expedition with Miss
- L., when the circumstances might allow of their being very dubious on this
- head without incurring the imputation of being censorious.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This testimony as to what was the opinion in Bath regarding the expedition
- is extremely valuable, coming as it does from one who was never greatly
- disposed to take a brotherly or even a friendly view of Richard's conduct
- at any time—coming as it does also from a man who had been in love
- with Miss Linley.
- </p>
- <p>
- At any rate this escapade of young Mr. Sheridan was the most fortunate for
- him of any in which he ever engaged, and he was a man of many escapades,
- for it caused Elizabeth Linley to fall in love with him, and never was a
- man beloved by a sweeter or more faithful woman. To know how beautiful was
- her nature one has only to look at her face in either of the great
- portraits of her which are before us to-day. No characteristic of all that
- is held to be good and gracious and sympathetic—in one word, that is
- held to be womanly, is absent from her face. No man that ever lived was
- worthy of such a woman; but if only men who are worthy of such women were
- beloved by them, mankind would be the losers. She loved Sheridan with the
- truest devotion—such devotion as might be expected from such a
- nature as hers—and she died in the act of writing to him the
- love-letter of a wife to her dearly loved husband.
- </p>
- <p>
- They did not get married until a year after the date of their flight to
- the Continent, and then they were described as bachelor and spinster.
- Neither of them ever gave a hint, even in any of the numerous letters
- which they exchanged during this period, that they had gone through the
- ceremony of marriage at that village near Calais. More than once a
- strained situation would have been relieved had it been possible to make
- such a suggestion, for now and again each of the lovers grew jealous of
- the other for a day or two. But neither said, “Pray remember that you are
- not free to think of marrying any one. We are husband and wife, although
- we were married in secret.” Neither of them could make such an assertion.
- It would not have been true. What seems to us to be the truth is that it
- was Sir Galahad who acted as protector to his sister when Richard Brinsley
- Sheridan went with Elizabeth Linley to France.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- THE AMAZING DUELS
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HEN young Mr.
- Sheridan returned to Bath after his happy little journey to France with
- Miss Linley and back with Mr. Linley, he may have believed that the
- incident was closed. He had done all that—and perhaps a little more
- than—the most chivalrous man of experience and means could be
- expected to do for the young woman toward whom he had stood in the
- position of a protecting brother. He had conducted her to the convent at
- Lille, on which she had set her heart, and he had been able to explain
- satisfactorily to her father on his arrival at the hotel where he and Miss
- Linley were sojourning in the meantime, what his intentions had been when
- he had eloped with her from Bath. No doubt he had also acted as Miss
- Linley's adviser in respect of those negotiations with her father which
- resulted in the happy return of the whole family party to London.
- </p>
- <p>
- In London he heard that Mathews, the scoundrel who had been pursuing Miss
- Linley in the most disreputable fashion, was in town also, and that,
- previous to leaving Bath, he had inserted in the Chronicle a defamatory
- advertisement regarding him (Sheridan); and on this information coming to
- his ears he put his pistols into his pocket and went in search of Mathews
- at the lodgings of the latter.
- </p>
- <p>
- Miss Sheridan tells us about the pistols in the course of her lucid
- narrative, and states on her own responsibility that when he came upon
- Mathews the latter was dreadfully frightened at the sight of one of the
- pistols protruding from Sheridan's pocket. Mr. Fraser Rae, the competent
- biographer of Sheridan, smiles at the lady's statement. “The sight of the
- pistols would have alarmed Sheridan's sisters,” he says, “but it is in
- accordance with probability that he (Mathews) expected a hostile meeting
- to follow as a matter of course. He must have been prepared for it, and he
- would have been strangely ignorant of the world in which he lived if he
- had deemed it unusual.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0014" id="linkimage-0014"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0301.jpg" alt="0301 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0301.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- But Mr. Fraser Rae was not so strangely ignorant of the world in which
- Sheridan and Mathews lived as to fancy that there was nothing unusual in a
- gentleman's going to ask another gentleman whom he believed to have
- affronted him, for an explanation, with a pair of pistols in his pocket.
- In the circumstances a duel would have been nothing unusual; but surely
- Mr. Fraser Rae could not have fancied that Sheridan set out with the
- pistols in his pocket in order to fight a duel with Mathews in the man's
- lodgings, without preliminaries and without seconds. If Mathews caught
- sight of the butt of a pistol sticking out of Sheridan's pocket he had
- every reason to be as frightened as Miss Sheridan declared he was, for he
- must have believed that his visitor had come to murder him.
- </p>
- <p>
- At any rate, frightened or not frightened, pistols or no pistols, Mathews,
- on being interrogated by Sheridan as to the advertisement in the <i>Bath
- Chronicle</i>, assured him that he had been grossly misinformed as to the
- character of the advertisement. It was, he affirmed, nothing more than an
- inquiry after Sheridan, which the family of the latter had sanctioned. He
- then, according to Miss Sheridan, expressed the greatest friendship for
- his visitor, and said that he would be made extremely unhappy if any
- difference should arise between them.
- </p>
- <p>
- So young Mr. Sheridan, balked of his murderous intentions, returned with
- unsullied pistols to his hotel, and set out for Bath with Miss Linley and
- her father.
- </p>
- <p>
- But if he fancied that Mathews had passed out of his life he was quickly
- undeceived. Before he had time to take his seat at the family table he had
- got a copy of the newspaper containing the advertisement, of the tenor of
- which Mathews had told him in London he had been misinformed; and now his
- sisters made him fully aware of the action taken by the same man on
- learning of the flight of Sheridan and Elizabeth Linley. The result was
- that he now perceived what every one should have known long before—namely,
- that Mathews was a scoundrel, who should never have been allowed to obtain
- the footing to which he had been admitted in the Sheridan and Linley
- families.
- </p>
- <p>
- It appears that the moment Mathews heard that Miss Linley had been carried
- beyond his reach, he rushed to the Sheridans' house, and there found the
- girls and their elder brother, who had been wisely communicated with by
- the landlord, and had left his retirement in the farmhouse in the country
- to take charge of the sisters in the absence of their brother Richard.
- Mathews behaved like a madman—no unusual <i>rôle</i> for him—heaping
- reproaches upon the absent member of the family, and demanding to be told
- of his whereabouts. He seems to have been encouraged by Charles Sheridan,
- who had unwisely said something in disparagement of his brother. Mathews
- had the effrontery to avow his passion for Elizabeth Linley, and in the
- bitterest terms to accuse Richard Sheridan of having acted basely in
- taking her beyond his reach.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then he hastened to Richard Sheridan's friend and confidant, a young man
- named Brereton, and to him he sent messages of friendship and, possibly,
- condolence to Mr. Linley, though his object in paying this visit was
- undoubtedly not to endeavour to exculpate himself as regards Mr. Linley,
- but to find out where the fugitives were to be found. He may have had
- visions of pursuing them, of fighting a duel with Richard Sheridan, and if
- he succeeded in killing him, of getting the girl at last into his power.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Mr. Brereton not only did not reveal the whereabouts of his friend—he
- knew that Sheridan meant to go to Lille, for he wrote to him there—but
- he also refused to give his interrogator any sympathy for having failed to
- accomplish the destruction of the girl. Brereton, indeed, seems to have
- convinced him that the best thing he could do was to leave Bath as quickly
- as possible. Mathews had probably by this time discovered, as Brereton
- certainly had, that the feeling against him in Bath was profound. There
- can be little doubt that in the course of the day Charles Sheridan became
- aware of this fact also; he had only a few months before confessed himself
- to be deeply in love with Elizabeth Linley, and when he heard that his
- brother had run away with her he could not but have been somewhat incensed
- against him, for Richard had not taken him into his confidence. By the
- time his brother returned, however, any ill-feeling that Charles may have
- felt had disappeared, and as Charles always showed himself to be a cool
- and calculating gentleman—one who always kept an eye on the jumping
- cat—it is not going too far to assume that his change of tone in
- respect of his rather impetuous brother was due to his perception of the
- trend of public opinion on the subject of the elopement.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brereton had persuaded Mathews that there was nothing left for him but to
- quit Bath; but before taking this step the latter had inserted in the <i>Bath
- Chronicle</i> the advertisement of which Richard had heard, but which he
- had not read when in London, thus leaving himself in no position to
- contradict Mathews' assertion as to its amicable wording.
- </p>
- <p>
- But now the newspaper was put into his hands by Charles, and he had an
- opportunity of pronouncing an opinion on this point. It was dated
- Wednesday, April the 8th, 1772, and it ran as follows:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Richard S———— having attempted in a letter
- left behind him for that purpose, to account for his scandalous method of
- running away from this place by insinuations derogating from my character
- and that of a young lady, innocent as far as relates to me, or my
- knowledge, since which he has neither taken any notice of letters or even
- informed his own family of the place where he has hid himself; I cannot
- longer think he deserves the treatment of a gentleman, and in this public
- method, to post him as a L———, and a treacherous S————.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And as I am convinced there have been many malevolent incendiaries
- concerned in the propagation of this infamous lie, if any of them,
- unprotected by age, <i>infirmities</i>, or profession, they are to
- acknowledge the part they have acted, and affirm <i>to</i> what they have
- said <i>of</i> me, they may depend on receiving the proper reward of their
- villainy, in the most public manner. The world will be candid enough to
- judge properly (I make no doubt) of any private abuse on this subject for
- the future, as nobody can defend himself from an accusation he is ignorant
- of Thomas Mathews.” Such a piece of maundering imbecility as this had
- probably never before appeared in a newspaper. It must have been read in
- Bath with roars of laughter. But we do not hear that any of the ready
- writers of the time and the town yielded to the temptation of commenting
- upon the “malevolent incendiarism” of the composition. A man of the world,
- had it been written about himself, would possibly have thought that its
- illiteracy spoke for itself, and so would have refrained from making any
- move in regard to it or its author. But one can imagine what effect
- reading it would have upon a boy of Sheridan's spirit. For a youth of
- twenty to find himself posted as a Liar and a Scoundrel, to say nothing of
- a “malevolent incendiary,” and remain indifferent would be impossible.
- Sheridan did not take long to make up his mind what he should do in the
- circumstances.
- </p>
- <p>
- The dramatic touch which his sister introduces in writing of Richard's
- perusal of the paragraph is intensely true to nature. He simply put a word
- or two to Charles relative to what Mathews had told him in London about
- his, Sheridan's, family sanctioning the insertion of the advertisement.
- Charles had no difficulty in vindicating his integrity on this point.
- Richard knew perfectly well that it is one thing to say that a man has
- acted too hastily, but quite another to suggest that that man is “a L———
- and a S————.”
- </p>
- <p>
- So apparently the matter ended, and Richard continued chatting with his
- sisters, giving no sign of what was in his mind. The girls went to their
- beds, suspecting nothing. The next morning their two brothers were
- missing!
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course the girls were dreadfully alarmed. Some people in the house told
- them that they had heard high words being exchanged between the brothers
- after the girls had retired, and shortly afterwards the two former had
- gone out together. The sister, in her narrative, mentions that she
- received a hint or two of a duel between Richard and Charles, but she at
- once put these suggestions aside. The poor girls must have been nearly
- distracted. Certainly the house of Sheridan was passing through a period
- of great excitement. The estimable head of the family was himself
- expecting a crisis in his affairs as manager of the theatre in Dublin—Mr.
- Thomas Sheridan was never far removed from a crisis—and in his
- absence his young people were doing pretty much as they pleased. He had no
- power of controlling them; all that he had to do with them was to pay
- their bills. Neither of the sons was earning anything, and while one of
- them was living as a man of fashion, the other had thought it well to cut
- himself off from his sisters, taking lodgings at a farm some way out of
- Bath It is the girls of the house for whom one feels most. Alicia, the
- elder, was seventeen, Elizabeth was but twelve. They must have been
- distracted. So would their father have been if he had had a chance of
- learning all that was going on at Bath.
- </p>
- <p>
- But, of course, when young gentlemen of spirit are falling in love with
- beauteous maidens, and retiring to cure themselves by mingling with
- pastoral scenes reminiscent of the gentle melancholy of Mr. Alexander
- Pope's shepherds and shepherdesses (done in Dresden), every one of whom
- murmurs mournfully and melodiously of a rejected suit—when young
- gentlemen are running away with afflicted damsels and returning to fight
- their enemies, they cannot be expected to think of the incidental expenses
- of the business, which are to be defrayed by their father, any more than
- of the distraction which takes possession of their sisters.
- </p>
- <p>
- The two young gentlemen were missing, and had left for their sisters no
- explanation of their absence—no hint as to the direction of their
- flight. And there were other people in the house talking about the high
- words that had been exchanged between the brothers at midnight. It is not
- surprising that the poor girls should be distressed and distracted.
- </p>
- <p>
- Considering that Miss Linley was the first cause of the excitement in the
- midst of which the family had been living for some weeks, it was only
- natural that the elder of the girls should send for her with a view to
- have some light thrown on this new development of the heroic incident in
- which Miss Linley had assisted. But Miss Linley, on being applied to,
- affirmed that she knew nothing of the disappearance of the brothers, that
- she had heard of nothing that should cause them to leave Bath at a
- moment's notice. She was, unfortunately, a young woman of imagination. In
- a crisis such a one is either very helpful, or very helpless. Poor Miss
- Linley was the latter. She had just come through a great crisis in her own
- life, and she had not emerged from it without suffering. It was too much
- to ask her to face another in the family of her friends. She went off in a
- fainting fit on hearing the news of the disappearance of the young men,
- and her father left her in the hands of a medical man, and turned his
- attention to the condition of Miss Sheridan, who was unable to walk back
- to her home, and had to be put into a chair, Mr. Linley walking beside her
- with her young sister. It is more than possible that Mr. Linley was
- beginning to feel that he had had quite enough of the Sheridan family to
- last him for the remainder of his life.
- </p>
- <p>
- For two days nothing whatever was heard of the missing brothers. We have
- no means of knowing if Miss Sheridan communicated to their father in
- Dublin the mysterious story she had to tell; the chances are that she was
- advised by Mr. Linley to refrain from doing so until she might have
- something definite to tell him. Mr. Linley never had any particular regard
- for the elder Sheridan, and he had no wish to have him summoned from his
- theatre at Dublin to make his remarks about the dangerous attractiveness
- of Elizabeth Linley, and the culpable carelessness of her father in
- allowing her to be carried off to France by a young man without a penny
- except what he got from his own father.
- </p>
- <p>
- At any rate, Tom Sheridan did not leave his theatre or his pupils in
- elocution, and there was no need for him to do so, for on Tuesday evening—they
- had been missing on the Sunday morning—Dick and his brother
- returned. They were both greatly fatigued, and said that they had not been
- in bed since they had left Bath. This meant that Dick had actually not
- slept in Bath since he had originally left the city in the company of Miss
- Linley. Between the Friday and the Tuesday he had posted from London to
- Bath with the Linleys, and had forthwith returned to London with his
- brother and then back once more to Bath without a pause. He, at least, had
- very good reason for feeling fatigued.
- </p>
- <p>
- His first act was to hand his sister an apology which had been made to him
- by Mathews. This document is worthy of being reprinted. It ran thus:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Being convinced that the expressions I made use of to Mr. Sheridan's
- disadvantage, were the effects of passion and misrepresentation, I intreat
- what I have said to that gentleman's disadvantage, and particularly beg
- his pardon for my advertisement in the <i>Bath Chronicle</i>. Th.
- Mathews.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He handed this document to his sister, and then it may be supposed that he
- went to bed. He had certainly good need of a sleep.
- </p>
- <p>
- Such is the drift of the story up to this point, as told by Mrs. Lefanu
- (Elizabeth Sheridan), and it differs in some particulars from that told by
- her brother Charles in a letter to their uncle, and, in a lesser degree,
- from the account given of the whole transaction by Richard Sheridan
- himself, who was surely in the best position to know exactly what happened
- upon the occasion of his first visit to Mathews in London, as well as upon
- the occasion of his second, made so hurriedly in the company of his
- brother.
- </p>
- <p>
- His second visit was, as might have been expected, the more exciting. It
- included the fighting of a duel with Mathews. The humours of duelling have
- been frequently dealt with in prose and comedy, and, assuredly the most
- amusing of all is to be found in Richard Brinsley Sheridan's <i>The Rivals</i>.
- One must confess, however, that the serious account given by the same
- writer of his hostile meeting with Mathews, on his return from Bath,
- suggests a much more ludicrous series of situations than are to be found
- in his play.
- </p>
- <p>
- In Sheridan's account he mentions that while still in France he received
- “several abusive threats” from Mathews, and these had such an effect upon
- him that he wrote to Mathews, swearing that he would not close his eyes in
- sleep in England till he had treated Mathews as he deserved. In order to
- carry out this vow he had actually sat up all night at Canterbury, where
- his party halted on their way from Dover to London. He called upon Mathews
- on arriving in London, at the latter's lodging in Crutched Friars; this
- was at midnight, and the key of the door being mislaid, he had to wait two
- hours before he was admitted. He found Mathews in bed, but he induced him
- to rise and dress, though, in spite of his compliance as regards his
- raiment, he complained bitterly of the cold. There does not seem to have
- been any great suffering on Sheridan's part through a lack of heat. Then,
- as his sister's narrative put it, the man declared that his visitor had
- been grossly misinformed in regard to the libel in the Chronicle; and so
- he left for Bath, as has already been stated.
- </p>
- <p>
- And now comes the account given by Sheridan of the return visit, and, told
- in his own laconic style, it suggests such comic situations as border on
- farce.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. S.,” he wrote, “staid but three hours in Bath. He returned to London.
- He sent to Mr. M. from Hyde Parck. He came with Captain Knight his second.
- He objected frequently to the ground. They adjourned to the Hercules
- Pillars. They returned to Hyde Parck. Mr. M. objected to the observation
- of an officer. They returned to Hercules Pillars. They adjourned to the
- Bedford Coffee house by agreement. Mr. M. was gone to the Castel Tavern.
- Mr. S. followed with Mr. E. Mr. M. made many declarations in favour of Mr.
- S. They engaged. Mr. M. was disarmed, Captain Knight ran in. Mr. M. begged
- his life and afterwards denied the advantage. Mr. S. was provoked by the
- (really well-meant) interposition of Captain Knight and the illusion of
- Mr. M. He insisted since Mr. M. denied the advantage, that he should give
- up his sword. Mr. M. denied, but sooner than return to his ground he gave
- it up. It was broke, and Mr. M. offered another. He was then called on to
- retract his abuse and beg Mr. S.'s pardon. With much altercation and much
- ill grace he complied.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The remainder of this remarkably succinct composition is devoted to the
- subsequent misrepresentations of the transaction by Mathews, and by the
- writer's appeal to the seconds to say if his version of the encounter was
- not correct.
- </p>
- <p>
- But whatever Mathews' account may have been it could scarcely be more
- ludicrous than Sheridan's. The marching and countermarching of the four
- gentlemen—it appears that brother Charles, although accompanying
- Richard to London, thought it more prudent to remain under cover during
- the actual engagement; he waited at Brereton's lodgings—the excuses
- made by Mathews in order to get away without fighting, and then at the
- last moment, the carrying out (by agreement) of a manouvre which landed
- Mathews in one tavern and the rest of the party in another—the
- set-to of the principals immediately after the “declarations” of one of
- them in favour of the other, and the final catastrophe could hardly be
- surpassed by the actions of a pair of burlesque duellists in what is
- technically known as a “knockabout” entertainment.
- </p>
- <p>
- And after all this scrupulousness of detail one is left in doubt as to the
- exact <i>locale</i> of the encounter. Did it take place in the coffee-room
- of the Castell Inn, or did the eager combatants retrace their steps to the
- “parck”? The document written by Sheridan, though dealing very fully with
- the forced marches of the army in the field, throws no light upon this
- question of the scene of the battle. In respect of the signing of the
- treaty of peace, and the payment of the indemnity, it is, however,
- moderately lucid. Sheridan must have told his sister that Mathews signed
- the apology immediately after the encounter; she states this in her
- narrative. But Mathews did not merely sign the apology, he wrote every
- word of it, as one may see by referring to the facsimile, thoughtfully
- given in Mr. Fraser Rae's <i>Life of Sheridan</i>, and it would be
- impossible to say that the caligraphy of the apology shows the least sign
- of that perturbation from which one must believe the writer was suffering
- at the moment. Its characteristic is neatness. It is in the fine
- old-fashioned Italian hand. Even an expert, who sees possibilities—when
- paid for it—in handwriting which would never occur to less
- imaginative observers, would scarcely venture to say that this neat little
- document was written by a man with another's sword at his throat.
- </p>
- <p>
- This is another element in the mystery of the duel, and it cannot be said
- that when we read the letter which the elder of the brothers wrote to his
- uncle, giving his account of the whole business, we feel ourselves in a
- clearer atmosphere. It really seems a pity that Mr. Browning did not make
- another <i>Ring and the Book</i> series of studies out of this amazing
- duel. Charles Sheridan told his uncle that an apology was given to Richard
- by Mathews as a result of Richard's first visit to him in London, but when
- Richard read the advertisement in the Chronicle, which was the original
- casus belli, he considered this apology so inadequate that he set off for
- London to demand another. Charles also mentions, what neither his brother
- nor his sister had stated, that he himself, on reaching London on the
- Sunday evening, went to Mathews to endeavour to get a suitable apology—according
- to Richard's narrative Charles had good grounds for sending a challenge to
- Mathews on his own account—but “after two hours' altercation” he
- found that he had made no impression upon the man, so that his brother had
- no alternative but to call him out.
- </p>
- <p>
- But however the accounts of the lesser details of this affair of honour
- may differ, there can be no question that public opinion in Bath was all
- in favour of young Mr. Sheridan. It was acknowledged on every hand that he
- had acted from the first—that is, from the moment he assumed the
- duties of the protector of Miss Linley—with admirable courage, and
- with a full sense of what honour demanded of him. In short he came back
- from London, after so many sleepless nights, covered with glory. He was a
- tall, handsome fellow of twenty, with brilliant eyes; he had run away with
- the most beautiful girl in the world to save her from the clutches of a
- scoundrel; he had had four nights without sleep, and then he had fought a
- duel with the scoundrel and had obtained from him an apology for insertion
- in the newspapers. Few young gentlemen starting life wholly without means
- attain to so proud a position of achievement before they reach their
- majority.
- </p>
- <p>
- But of course all these feats of errantry and arms run up a bill. Young
- Mr. Sheridan's posting account must have been by itself pretty formidable,
- and, knowing that his father had never looked on him with the favour which
- he gave to his brother, Richard may now and again have felt a trifle
- uneasy at the prospect of meeting Mr. Sheridan. If his sister's memory is
- to be trusted, however, this meeting took place within a week or two of
- his duel, and no bones were broken. Mr. Sheridan had a few chiding words
- to say respecting the debts which his son had incurred, but these he paid,
- after obtaining from the boy the usual promise made under similar
- conditions before a like tribunal. The prodigal invariably acts up to his
- character for prodigality in the matter of promises of reform.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard Sheridan, being something of a wit, though we do not get many
- examples of his faculty in the accounts extant of his early life, and
- assuredly not a single example in any of his letters that came into the
- hands of his biographers, may have sworn to his father never to run away
- with a girl who might be anxious to enter upon a conventual life. At any
- rate, his father did not show any great displeasure when he was made aware
- of the boy's conduct, though it is worth noting that Mr. Sheridan took
- exception to the general conviction that his son's act had been prompted
- by the most chivalrous aspirations.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mathews, however, had not yet been shaken off. He was back in Bath almost
- as soon as the Sheridans, and “malevolent incendiarism” was in the air. No
- slander was too base for him to use against Richard Sheridan, no
- insinuation too vile. But the popularity of the object of his calumny was
- now too firmly established in Bath to be shaken by the vaporous
- malevolence of his enemy. Mathews, finding himself thoroughly discredited
- in every quarter, did the only sensible thing recorded in his squalid
- history—he ran away to his home in Wales.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was here unfortunate enough to meet with a man named Barnard, or
- Barnett, who acted upon him pretty much as Sir Lucius O'Trigger did upon
- Squire Acres, explaining to him that it was quite impossible that the
- affair between him and Sheridan should remain as it was. It was absolutely
- necessary, he said, that another duel should take place. All the
- “incendiarism” in Mathews' nature was aroused by the fiery words of this
- man, and the precious pair hurried to Bath, where a challenge was sent to
- Sheridan through the hands of his eldest sister, under the guise of an
- invitation to some festivity.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sheridan was foolish enough to accept the challenge apparently without
- consulting with any one competent to advise him. According to his father
- the challenge had been preceded by several letters of the most scurrilous
- abuse. His wiser brother, who had just received an appointment as
- Secretary to the British Legation in Sweden, had gone to London with their
- father to make preparations for his departure for Stockholm, and
- immediately on hearing of the duel he wrote to Richard a typical elder
- brother's letter. It is dated July 3rd, 1772, so that, as the duel had
- only taken place the previous day, it cannot be said that he lost much
- time in expressing his deep sense of his brother's foolishness in meeting
- so great a scoundrel for the second time. “All your friends have condemned
- you,” he wrote. “You risked everything, where you had nothing to gain, to
- give your antagonist the thing he wished, a chance for recovering his
- reputation; he wanted to get rid of the contemptible opinion he was held
- in, and you were good-natured enough to let him do it at your expense. It
- is not a time to scold, but all your friends were of opinion you could,
- with the greatest propriety, have refused to meet him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Without going into the question as to whether this sort of letter was the
- ideal one for one brother to write to another who was lying on his bed
- with several wounds in his throat, it is impossible to question the
- soundness of the opinion expressed by Charles Sheridan in respect of
- Richard's acceptance of Mathews' challenge. The challenge was, however,
- accepted, and the duel took place on King's Down, at three o'clock in the
- morning. Mathews' friend was Barnett, and Sheridan's a young gentleman
- named Paumier, who, it was said, was quite unacquainted with the rules of
- the game, and had never even seen a duel being fought. The accounts which
- survive of this second meeting of Sheridan and Mathews make it apparent
- that, if the first was a scene of comedy, this one was a tragic burlesque.
- It is said that Sheridan, on the signal being given, at once rushed in on
- his antagonist, endeavouring to disarm him as he had done upon the former
- occasion of their meeting, but, tripping over something, he literally, and
- not figuratively, fell upon the other, knocking him down with such
- violence that he was not only disarmed, but his sword was broken as well.
- Sheridan's own sword was also broken, so that one might fancy that the
- meeting would have terminated here. It did nothing of the sort. The
- encounter was only beginning, and anything more savagely burlesque than
- the sequel could not be imagined.
- </p>
- <p>
- The combatants must have rolled over, after the manner of the negro
- duellists on the variety stage, and when they had settled themselves each
- made a grab for the most serviceable fragment of his sword. Mathews being
- the heavier man contrived to keep uppermost in the scuffle, and, what gave
- him a decided advantage over his opponent, he managed to get his fingers
- on the hilt of his broken weapon. An appeal at this stage was made by the
- lad who was acting as Sheridan's second to put a stop to the fight; but
- the second ruffian, or the ruffian's second—either description
- applies to Barnett—declared that as both the antagonists were on the
- ground one could not be said to have any advantage over the other. This
- delicate question being settled, Mathews held the jagged, saw-like end—point
- it had none—of the broken sword at the other's throat and told him
- to beg for his life. Sheridan replied that he should refuse to beg his
- life from such a scoundrel, and forthwith the scoundrel began jabbing at
- his throat and face with the fragment of his weapon, a method of attack
- which was not robbed of its butchery by the appeal that it makes to a
- reader's sense of its comical aspect.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is doubtful, however, if the comic side of the transaction appealed
- very forcibly to the unfortunate boy who was being lacerated to death. He
- just managed to put aside a thrust or two before the end of the blade
- penetrated the flesh of his throat and pinned him to the ground. With a
- chuckle and, according to Tom Sheridan's account, an oath, Mathews got
- upon his feet, and, entering the coach which was waiting for him, drove
- away from the scene of his butchery. Sheridan was thereupon raised from
- the ground, and driven in his chaise with his second to the White Hart
- Inn. Two surgeons were immediately in attendance, and it was found that
- his wounds, though numerous, were not such as placed his life in jeopardy.
- They were, however, sufficiently serious to prevent his removal to his
- home that day.
- </p>
- <p>
- It does not appear that young Paumier told the sisters of the occurrence;
- but an account of the duel having appeared in the <i>Bath Chronicle</i>
- the same afternoon, every one in the town must have been talking of it,
- though Mrs. Lefanu says neither she nor her sister heard a word of the
- matter until the next day. Then they hastened to the White Hart, and
- prevailed upon the surgeons to allow them to take their brother home. In a
- surprisingly short time he had quite recovered. Indeed, although there was
- a report that Sheridan's life was despaired of, there was no excuse for
- any one taking so gloomy a view of his hurts, for the exact truth was
- known to Charles Sheridan and his father in London early on the day
- following that of the fight.
- </p>
- <p>
- The pathetic part of the story of this ludicrous encounter is to be found
- in the story of the reception of the news by Elizabeth Linley. Her father
- had read in some of the papers that Sheridan was at the point of death,
- but, like the worldly-wise man that Mr. Linley was, he kept the news from
- his daughter. They were at Oxford together, and she was announced to sing
- at a concert, and he knew that had she learned all that the newspapers
- published, she might possibly not be able to do herself—and her
- father—justice. But, as one of the audience told his sister
- afterwards, the fact that every one who had come to hear Miss Linley sing
- was aware of the serious condition (as the papers alleged) of young
- Sheridan, and of her attachment to him, a feeling of sympathy for the
- lovely young creature added immeasurably to the interest of her
- performance.
- </p>
- <p>
- At the conclusion of the concert her father set out with her for Bath; and
- it was not until they had almost reached their home that their chaise was
- met by a clergyman named Pauton, and he summoned all his tact to enable
- him to prepare Elizabeth Linley for the news which he was entrusted to
- communicate to her. It is said that under the stress of her emotion the
- girl declared that Richard Sheridan was her husband, and that her place
- was by his side.
- </p>
- <p>
- Whatever truth there may be in this story it is certain that if she
- believed at that moment that Sheridan was her husband, she gave no sign of
- continuing in that belief, for though her numerous letters to him show
- that she was devoted to him, there is no suggestion in any of them that
- she believed herself to be his wife. On the contrary, there are many
- passages which prove that no idea of the sort was entertained by her.
- </p>
- <p>
- The exertions of the heads of the two families were for long directed
- against the union of the lovers. Mr. Linley felt more forcibly than ever
- that he had had quite enough of the Sheridans, and Tom Sheridan doubtless
- wished never to hear again the name of Linley. The one made his daughter
- promise on her knees to give up Richard Sheridan, and Mr. Sheridan
- compelled his son to forswear any association with Elizabeth Linley. Jove
- must have been convulsed with laughter. Richard Brinsley Sheridan and
- Elizabeth Ann Linley were married on the 13th of April, 1773.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- A MELODRAMA AT COVENT GARDEN
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>N an evening in
- April, 1779, the play, “<i>Love in a Village</i>” was being performed at
- Covent Garden Theatre before a large audience. In the front row of the
- boxes sat two ladies, one of them young and handsome, the other not so
- young and not so beautiful—a dark-faced, dark-eyed woman whom no one
- could mistake for any nationality except Italian. Three gentlemen who sat
- behind them were plainly of their party—elegant gentlemen of
- fashion, one of them an Irish peer. Every person of quality in the theatre
- and a good many others without such a claim to distinction, were aware of
- the fact that the most attractive member of the group was Miss Reay, a
- lady whose name had been for several years closely associated—very
- closely indeed—with that of Lord Sandwich, the First Lord of the
- Admiralty, and one of the most unpopular men in England. She had driven to
- the theatre in his lordship's carriage, and two of the gentlemen with whom
- she conversed freely in the box were high officials of the department over
- which his lordship presided.
- </p>
- <p>
- Almost from the moment of her arrival, Miss Reay and her friends were
- watched eagerly by a hollow-eyed, morose gentleman in black. He looked as
- if he had not slept for many nights; and no one observing him could have
- failed to perceive that he had come to the theatre not for the sake of the
- play which was being performed, but to watch the lady. He kept his fierce
- eyes fixed upon her, and he frowned every time that she turned to make a
- remark to one of her friends; his eyes blazed every time that one of her
- friends smiled over her shoulder, and his hands clenched if she smiled in
- return. Several times it seemed as if he found it impossible to remain in
- his place in the upper side box, where his seat was, for he started up and
- hurried out to the great lobby, walking to and fro in great agitation.
- More than once he strode away from the lobby into the Bedford Coffee House
- just outside the theatre, and there partook of brandy and water, returning
- after brief intervals to stare at Miss Reay and her companions in the
- front row of the boxes.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0015" id="linkimage-0015"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0327.jpg" alt="0327 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0327.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- At the conclusion of the play, he went hastily into the vestibule,
- standing to one side, not far from the exit from the boxes; but if he
- intended to be close to Miss Reay while she walked to the main exit, his
- object was defeated by reason of the crush of people congregating in the
- vestibule, the people of quality waiting for their carriages to be
- announced, the others waiting for the satisfaction of being in such close
- proximity to people of quality.
- </p>
- <p>
- Among the crowd there was a lady who had recently become the wife of a
- curious gentleman named Lewis, who some years later wrote a grisly book
- entitled <i>The Monk</i>, bringing him such great fame as cancelled for
- posterity the names of Matthew Gregory, given to him by his parents, and
- caused him to be identified by the name of his book only. This lady made a
- remark to her neighbour in respect of a lovely rose which Miss Reay was
- wearing when she left the box exit and stood in the vestibule—a
- beautiful rose early in the month of April might have excited remark in
- those days; at any rate, Mrs. Lewis has left the record that at the very
- moment of her speaking, the rose fell to the floor, and Miss Reay appeared
- to be profoundly affected by this trifling incident, and said in a
- faltering voice, “I trust that I am not to consider this as an evil omen!”
- So Mrs. Lewis stated.
- </p>
- <p>
- A few moments later Lord Sandwich's carriage was announced, and Miss Reay
- and her companion made a move in the direction of the door. The gentlemen
- of the party seem to have left earlier, for on the ladies being impeded by
- the crush in the vestibule, a stranger, named Mr. Macnamara, of Lincoln's
- Inn, proffered his services to help them to get to the carriage. Miss Reay
- thanked him, took his arm, and the crowd opened for them in some measure.
- It quickly opened wider under a more acute persuasion a few seconds later,
- when the morose gentleman in black pushed his way among the people until
- he was within a few feet of the lady and her escort. Only for a second did
- he pause—certainly he spoke no word to Miss Reay or any one else—before
- he pulled a pistol from his pocket and fired almost point-blank at her
- before any one could knock up his hand. Immediately afterwards he turned a
- second pistol against his own forehead and pulled the trigger, and fell to
- the ground.
- </p>
- <p>
- The scene that followed can easily be imagined. Every woman present
- shrieked, except Miss Reay, who was supported by Mr. Macnamara. The
- ghastly effects of the bullet were apparent not only upon the forehead of
- the lady where it lodged, but upon the bespattered garments of every one
- about the door, and upon the columns of the hall. Above the shrieks of the
- terror-stricken people were heard the yells of the murderer, who lay on
- the ground, hammering at his head with the butt end of his weapon, and
- crying, “Kill me! Kill me!”
- </p>
- <p>
- A Mr. Mahon, of Russell Street, who was said to be an apothecary, was the
- first to lay a hand upon the wretched man. He wrested the pistol from his
- grasp and prevented him from doing further mischief to himself. He was
- quickly handed over to the police, and, with his unfortunate victim, was
- removed to the Shakespeare Tavern, a surgeon named Bond being in prompt
- attendance. It did not take long to find that Miss Reay had never breathed
- after the shot had been fired at her; the bullet had smashed the skull and
- passed through the brain. The man remained for some time unconscious, but
- even before he recovered he was identified as James Hackman, a gentleman
- who had been an officer in the army, and on retiring had taken Orders,
- being admitted a priest of the Church of England scarcely a month before
- his crime. There were rumours respecting his infatuation for Miss Reay,
- and in a surprisingly short space of time, owing most likely to the
- exertions of Signora Galli, the Italian whom Lord Sandwich had hired to be
- her companion, the greater part of the romantic story of the wretched
- man's life, as far as it related to Miss Reay, was revealed.
- </p>
- <p>
- It formed a nine days' wonder during the spring of the same year (1779).
- The grief displayed by Lord Sandwich on being made acquainted with the
- circumstances of the murder was freely commented on, and the sympathy
- which was felt for him may have diminished in some measure from his
- unpopularity. The story told by Croker of the reception of the news by
- Lord Sandwich is certainly not deficient in detail. “He stood as it were
- petrified,” we are told, “till suddenly, seizing a candle, he ran upstairs
- and threw himself on the bed, and in agony exclaimed, 'Leave me for a
- while to myself, I could have borne anything but this!' The attendants
- remained for a considerable time at the top of the staircase, till his
- lordship rang the bell and ordered that they should all go to bed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Before his lordship left the scene of his grief in the morning Sir John
- Fielding, the Bow Street magistrate, had arrived at the Shakespeare Tavern
- from his house at Brompton, and, after a brief inquiry, ordered Hackman to
- be taken to Tothill Fields Prison. In due course he was committed to
- Newgate, and on April 16th his trial took place before Blackstone, the
- Recorder. The facts of the tragedy were deposed to by several witnesses,
- and the cause of the lady's death was certified by Mr. Bond, the surgeon.
- The prisoner was then called on for his defence. He made a brief speech,
- explaining that he would have pleaded guilty at once had he not felt that
- doing so “would give an indication of contemning death, not suitable to my
- present condition, and would in some measure make me accessory to a second
- peril of my life. And I likewise thought,” he added, “that the justice of
- my country ought to be satisfied by suffering my offence to be proved, and
- the fact to be established by evidence.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This curious affectation of a finer perception of the balance of justice
- than is possessed by most men was quite characteristic of this man, as was
- also his subsequent expression of his willingness to submit to the
- sentence of the court. His counsel endeavoured to show that he had been
- insane from the moment of his purchasing his pistols until he had
- committed the deed for which he was being tried—he did not say
- anything about “a wave of insanity,” however, though that picturesque
- phrase would have aptly described the nature of his plea. He argued that a
- letter which was found in the prisoner's pocket, and in which suicide only
- was threatened, should be accepted as proof that he had no intention of
- killing Miss Reay when he went to the theatre.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Recorder, of course, made short work of such a plea. He explained to
- the jury that “for a plea of insanity to be successful it must be shown
- not merely that it was a matter of fits and starts, but that it was a
- definite thing—a total loss of reason and incapability of reason.”
- Referring to the letter, he said that it seemed to him to argue a coolness
- and premeditation incompatible with such insanity as he described.
- </p>
- <p>
- The result was, as might have been anticipated, the jury, without leaving
- the box, found Hackman guilty, and he was sentenced to be hanged.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Boswell, who was nearly as fond of hearing death-sentences pronounced
- as he was of seeing them carried out, was present in the court during the
- trial, and to him Mr. Booth, the brother-in-law of the prisoner, applied—he
- himself had been too greatly agitated to be able to remain in the court—for
- information as to how Hackman had deported himself, and Boswell was able
- to assure him that he had behaved “as well, sir, as you or any of his
- friends could wish; with decency, propriety, and in such a manner as to
- interest every one present. He might have pleaded that he shot Miss Reay
- by accident, but he fairly told the truth that in a moment of frenzy he
- did intend it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- While he was in the condemned cell at Newgate he received a message from
- Lord Sandwich to the effect that if he wished for his life, he (Lord
- Sandwich) had influence with the King, and might succeed in obtaining a
- commutation of his sentence. Hackman replied that he had no wish to live,
- but he implored his lordship to give him such assurance that those whom
- Miss Reay had left behind her would be carefully looked after, as would,
- on meeting her in another world, enable him to make this pleasing
- communication to her.
- </p>
- <p>
- He spent the few days that remained to him in writing fervid letters to
- his friends and in penning moralisings, in a style which was just the
- smallest degree more pronounced than that which was fashionable at his
- period—the style of the sentimental hero of Richardson and his
- inferior followers.
- </p>
- <p>
- His execution at Tyburn attracted the most enormous crowds ever seen upon
- such an occasion. The carriage in which the wretched man was conveyed to
- the gibbet could only proceed at a walking pace; but still, the vehicle
- which followed it, containing the Earl of Carlisle and James Boswell,
- arrived in good time for the final scene of this singular tragedy, which
- for weeks, as the Countess of Ossory wrote to George Selwyn, was the sole
- topic of conversation.
- </p>
- <p>
- And, as a matter of course, Horace Walpole had something to communicate to
- one of his carefully-selected correspondents. Oddly enough it was to a
- parson he wrote to express the opinion that he was still uncertain
- “whether our clergy are growing Mahometans or not”; adding sagely, “they
- certainly are not what they profess themselves; but as you and I should
- not agree, perhaps, in assigning the same defects to them, I will not
- enter on a subject which I have promised you to drop, all I allude to now
- is the shocking murder of Miss Reay by a divine. In my own opinion we are
- growing more fit for Bedlam than for Mahomet's paradise. The poor
- criminal, I am persuaded, is mad, and the misfortune is the law does not
- know how to define the shades of madness; and thus there are twenty
- out-pensioners of Bedlam for one that is confined.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Most persons will come to the conclusion that the judge who tried Hackman
- made a most successful attempt to expound to the jury exactly where the
- law drew a line in differentiating between the man who should be sent to
- Bedlam and the man who should be sent to Tyburn, and will agree with the
- justice of the law that condemned to the gallows this divine of three
- weeks' standing for committing an atrocious crime, even though the chances
- are that Hackman spoke the truth when he affirmed that he had brought his
- pistols down to the theatre with no more felonious intent than to blow out
- his own brains in the presence of the lady and to fall dead at her feet.
- At the same time one is not precluded from agreeing with Walpole's opinion
- that the people of his period were growing more fit for Bedlam than for
- Eblis.
- </p>
- <p>
- The truth is that an extraordinary wave of what was called “sensibility”
- was passing over England at that time. It was a wave of sentimentality—that
- maudlin sentimentality which was the exquisite characteristic of the hero
- and heroine of almost every novel that attained to any degree of success.
- To people who have formed their ideas of the latter half of the eighteenth
- century from studying Boswell's <i>Life of Johnson</i>, every page of
- which shows a healthy common sense; or from the plates of Hogarth—robust
- even to a point of vulgarity—it would seem incredible that there
- should exist in England at practically the same time a cult of the maudlin
- and the lachrymose. Such a cult had, however, obtained so great a hold on
- a large section of society that all the satire of Smollett, Sterne, and
- Goldsmith, was unable to ridicule it out of existence.
- </p>
- <p>
- And the worst of the matter was that the types of these weeping
- sentimentalists were not unreal. They began by being unreal, but in the
- course of a short time they became real, the fact being that people in all
- directions began to frame their conduct and their conversation upon these
- flaccid creatures of the unhealthy fancy of third-rate novelists and
- fourth-rate poetasters. More than once, it may be remarked, even in our
- own time “movements” have had their origin in the fancy of a painter—in
- one case of a subtle caricaturist. An artist possessed of a distorted
- sense of what is beautiful in woman has been able to set a certain fashion
- in the unreal, until people were well-nigh persuaded that it was the
- painter who had taken the figures in his pictures from the persons who had
- simply sought a cheap notoriety by adopting the pose and the dress of the
- scraggy posturantes for whose anatomy he was responsible.
- </p>
- <p>
- So it was that, when certain novel-writers in the eighteenth century,
- having no experience of the life which they attempted to depict, brought
- forth creatures out of their own unhealthy imaginations, and placed them
- before their readers as types of heroes and heroines, the public never
- failed to include quite a number of readers who were ready to live up to
- all those essentials that constituted the personages of the fiction.
- </p>
- <p>
- And not alone over England had the sighs of a perpetually sighing hero and
- heroine sent a lachrymose flood; France and Germany, if not actually
- inundated, were at least rendered humid by its influence. <i>The Sorrows
- of Werther</i> was only one of the many books which helped on the cult of
- the sentimental, and it was as widely read in England as in Germany.
- Gessner's <i>Death of Abel</i> had an enormous vogue in its English
- translation. The boarding-school version of the tale of Abelard and
- Heloise was also much wept over both in France and Germany; and the true
- story of James Hackman and Martha Reay, as recorded by the correspondence
- of the pair, published shortly after the last scene in the tragedy had
- been enacted, and reissued with connecting notes some twelve years ago,
- might pass only as a somewhat crude attempt to surpass these masterpieces
- of fancy-woven woes. James and Martha might have been as happy as
- thousands of other Jameses and Marthas have been, but they chose to
- believe that the Fates were bothering themselves with this particular case
- of James and Martha—they chose to feel that they were doomed to a
- life of sorrowful love—at any rate, this was Martha's notion—and
- they kept on exchanging emotional sentiments until James's poor head gave
- way, and he sought to end up their romance in accordance with the mode of
- the best models, stretching himself a pallid corpse at the feet of his
- Martha; but then it was that Fate put out a meddlesome finger, and so
- caused the scene of the last chapter to take place at Tyburn.
- </p>
- <p>
- The romance of Mr. Hackman and Miss Reay would never have taken place, if
- Lord Sandwich had been as exemplary a husband as George III or Dr. Johnson
- or Edmund Burke—the only exemplary husbands of the eighteenth
- century that one can recall at a moment's notice. Unhappily his lordship
- was one of the many examples of the unexemplary husband of that period. If
- the Earl of Chesterfield advanced the ill-treatment of a wife to one of
- the fine arts, it may be said that the Earl of Sandwich made it one of the
- coarse. He was brutal in his treatment of the Countess, and never more so
- than when he purchased the pretty child that Miss Reay must have been at
- the age of thirteen, and had her educated to suit his tastes. He went
- about the transaction with the same deliberation as a gourmand might
- display in ordering his dinner. He was extremely fond of music, so he had
- the child's education in this direction carefully attended to. His place
- at Hinchinbrook had been the scene of the performance of several
- oratorios, his lordship taking his place in the orchestra at the
- kettledrums; and he hoped that by the time he should have his purchase
- sent home, her voice would be equal to the demands put upon it by the most
- exacting of the sacred soprano music of Handel or Gluck.
- </p>
- <p>
- As it turned out he was not disappointed. Martha Reay, when she went to
- live at Hinchinbrook at the age of eighteen, showed herself to be a most
- accomplished young lady, as she certainly was a very charming one. She was
- found to possess a lovely voice, and was quite fitted to take her place,
- not merely in his lordship's music-room, but also in his drawing-room to
- which he advanced her. To say that she was treated as one of his
- lordship's family would be to convey a wrong impression, considering how
- he treated the principal member of his family, but certainly he introduced
- her to his guests, and she took her place at his table at dinner parties.
- He even put her next to the wife of a bishop upon one occasion, feeling
- sure that she would captivate that lady, and as it turned out, his
- anticipations were fully realised; only the bishop's lady, on making
- inquiries later on, protested that she was scandalised by being placed in
- such a position as permitted of her yielding to the fascinations of a
- young person occupying a somewhat equivocal position in the household.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was when she was at Hinchinbrook, in October, 1775, that Miss Reay met
- the man who was to play so important a part in her life—and death.
- Cradock, the “country gentleman,” tells in his <i>Memoirs</i> the story of
- the first meeting of the two. Lord Sandwich was anxious that a friend of
- his own should be elected to a professorship at Cambridge, and Cradock,
- having a vote, was invited to use it on behalf of his lordship's
- candidate, and to stay for a night at Hinchinbrook on his way back to
- London. He travelled in Lord Sandwich's coach, and when in the act of
- driving through the gateway at Hinchinbrook, it overtook a certain Major
- Reynolds and another officer who was stationed on recruiting duty in the
- neighbourhood. Lord Sandwich, being acquainted with Reynolds, dismounted
- and invited him and his friend to a family dinner at his lordship's place
- that evening. Major Reynolds expressed his appreciation of this act of
- courtesy, and introduced his friend as Captain Hackman. The party was a
- simple affair.
- </p>
- <p>
- It consisted of Lord Sandwich, Miss Reay, another lady, the two officers,
- and Mr. Cradock. After coffee had been served two rubbers of whist were
- played, and the party broke up.
- </p>
- <p>
- This was the first meeting of Hackman and Miss Reay. They seem to have
- fallen in love immediately, each with the other, for the first letter in
- the correspondence, written in December, 1775, contains a good deal that
- suggests the adolescence of a passion. Hackman was a man of education and
- some culture, and he showed few signs of developing into that maudlin
- sentimentalist who corresponded with the lady a year or two later. He was
- but twenty-three years of age, the son of a retired officer in the navy,
- who had sent him to St. John's College, Cambridge, and afterwards bought
- him a commission in the 68th Foot. He was probably only an ensign when he
- was stationed at Huntingdon, but being in charge of the recruiting party,
- enjoyed the temporary rank of captain.
- </p>
- <p>
- He must have had a pretty fair conceit of his own ability as a
- correspondent, for he kept a copy of his love letters. Of course, there is
- no means of ascertaining if he kept copies of all that he ever wrote; he
- may have sent off some in the hot passion of the moment, but those which
- passed into the hands of his brother-in-law and were afterwards published,
- were copies which he had retained. Miss Reay was doubtless discreet enough
- to destroy the originals before they had a chance of falling into the
- hands of Lord Sandwich. It is difficult for us who live in this age of
- scrawls and “correspondence cards” to imagine the existence of that
- enormous army of letter-writers who flourished their quills in the
- eighteenth century, for the entertainment of their descendants in the
- nineteenth and twentieth; but still more difficult is it to understand
- how, before the invention of any mechanical means of reproducing
- manuscript, these voluminous correspondents first made a rough draft of
- every letter, then corrected and afterwards copied it, before sending it—securing
- a frank from a friendly Member of Parliament—to its destination.
- </p>
- <p>
- Superlatively difficult is it to imagine an ardent lover sitting down to
- transcribe into the pages of a notebook the outpourings of his passion.
- But this is what Ensign Hackman did, although so far as the consequences
- of his love-making were concerned, he is deserving of a far higher place
- among great lovers than Charlotte's Werther, or Mr. Swinburne's Dolores.
- Charlotte we know “went on cutting bread and butter” after the death of
- her honourable lover; but poor little Miss Reay was the victim of the
- passion which she undoubtedly fanned into a flame of madness. Ensign
- Hackman made copies of his love-letters, and we are grateful to him, for
- by their aid we can perceive the progress of his disease. They are like
- the successive pictures in a biograph series lately exhibited at a
- conversazione of the Royal Society, showing the development of a blossom
- into a perfect flower. We see by the aid of these letters how he gave way
- under the attack of what we should now call the bacillus of that maudlin
- sentimentality which was in the air in his day.
- </p>
- <p>
- He began his love-letters like a gallant officer, but ended them in the
- strain of the distracted curate who had been jilted just when he has laid
- down the cork lino in the new study and got rid of the plumbers. He wrote
- merrily of his “Corporal Trim,” who was the bearer of a “billet” from her.
- “He will be as good a soldier to Cupid as to Mars, I dare say. And Mars
- and Cupid are not now to begin their acquaintance, you know.” Then he goes
- on to talk in a fine soldierly strain of the drum “beating for volunteers
- to Bacchus. In plain English, the drum tells me dinner is ready, for a
- drum gives us bloody-minded heroes an appetite for eating as well as for
- fighting.... Adieu—whatever hard service I may have after dinner, no
- quantity of wine shall make me let drop or forget my appointment with you
- tomorrow. We certainly were not seen yesterday, for reasons I will give
- you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This letter was written on December 7th, and it was followed by another
- the next day, and a still longer one the day following. In fact, Corporal
- Trim must have been kept as busy as his original in the service of Uncle
- Toby, during the month of December, his duty being to receive the lady's
- letters, as well as to deliver the gentleman's, and he seems to have been
- equally a pattern of fidelity.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hackman's letters at this time were models of good taste, with only the
- smallest amount of swagger in them. His intentions were strictly
- honourable, and they were not concealed within any cocoon of sentimental
- phraseology. One gathers from his first letters that he was a simple and
- straightforward gentleman, who, having fallen pretty deeply in love with a
- young woman, seeks to make her his wife at the earliest possible moment.
- Unfortunately however, the lady had fallen under the influence of the
- prevailing affectation, and her scheme of life did not include a
- commonplace marriage with a subaltern in a marching regiment. One might be
- disposed to say that she knew when she was well off. The aspiration to be
- made “a respectable woman” by marriage in a church was not sufficiently
- strong in her to compel her to sacrifice the many good things with which
- she was surrounded, in order to realise it. But, of course, she was ready
- to pose as a miserable woman, linked to a man whom she did not love, but
- too honourable to leave him, and far too thoughtful for the career of the
- man whom she did love with all her soul ever to become a burden to him.
- She had read the ballad of “Auld Robin Gray”—she quoted it in full
- in one of her letters—and she was greatly interested to find how
- closely her case resembled that of the wife in the poem. She had brought
- herself to think of the man who had bought her just as he would buy a
- peach tree, or a new tulip, as her “benefactor.” Did she not owe to him
- the blessing of a good education, and the culture of her voice, her
- knowledge of painting—nay, her “keep” for several years, and her
- introduction to the people of quality who visited at Hinchinbrook and at
- the Admiralty? She seemed to think it impossible for any one to doubt that
- Lord Sandwich had acted toward her with extraordinary generosity, and that
- she would be showing the most contemptible ingratitude were she to forsake
- so noble a benefactor. But all the same she found Hinchinbrook intolerably
- dull at times, and she was so pleased at the prospect of having a lover,
- that she came to fancy that she loved the first one who turned up.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was undoubtedly greatly impressed by the ballad of “Auld Robin Gray,”
- and she at once accepted the rôle of the unhappy wife, only she found it
- convenient to modify one rather important line—
- </p>
- <p>
- “I fain would think o' Jamie, but that would be a sin.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She was fain to think on her Jamie whether it was a sin or not, but she
- did so without having the smallest intention of leaving her Auld Robin
- Gray. So whimsical an interpretation of the poem could scarcely occur to
- any one not under the influence of the sentimental malady of the day; but
- it served both for Miss Reay and her Jamie. They accepted it, and became
- deeply sensible of its pathos as applied to themselves. Ensign Hackman
- assured her that he was too high-minded to dream of making love to her
- under the roof of Lord Sandwich, her “benefactor.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Our love, the inexorable tyrant of our hearts,” he wrote, “claims his
- sacrifices, but does not bid us insult his lordship's walls with it. How
- civilly did he invite me to Hinchinbrook in October last, though an
- unknown recruiting officer. How politely himself first introduced me to
- himself! Often has the recollection made me struggle with my passion.
- Still it shall restrain it on this side honour.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This was in reply to her remonstrance, and probably she regretted that she
- had been so strenuous in pointing out to him how dreadful it would be were
- she to show herself wanting in gratitude to Lord Sandwich. She wanted to
- play the part of Jenny, the lawful wife of Robin Gray, with as few
- sacrifices as possible, and she had no idea of sacrificing young Jamie,
- the lover, any more than she had of relinquishing the many privileges she
- enjoyed at Hinchinbrook by making Jamie the lover into Jamie the husband.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is very curious to find Hackman protesting to her all this time that
- his passions are “wild as the torrent's roar,” apologising for making his
- simile water when the element most congenial to his nature was fire.
- “Swift had water in his brain. I have a burning coal of fire; your hand
- can light it up to rapture, rage, or madness. Men, real men, have never
- been wild enough for my admiration, it has wandered into the ideal world
- of fancy. Othello (but he should have put himself to death in his wife's
- sight, not his wife), Zanga are my heroes. Milk-and-water passions are
- like sentimental comedy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Read in the light of future events this letter has a peculiar
- significance. Although he became more sentimental than the hero of any of
- the comedies at which he was sneering, he was still able to make an honest
- attempt to act up to his ideal of Othello. “<i>He should have put himself
- to death in his wife's sight</i>.” It will be remembered that he pleaded
- at his trial that he had no design upon the life of Miss Reay, but only
- aimed at throwing himself dead at her feet.
- </p>
- <p>
- Equally significant are some of the passages in the next letters which he
- wrote to her. They show that even within the first month of his
- acquaintance with his Martha his mind had a peculiar bent. He was giving
- his attention to Hervey's <i>Meditations</i>, and takes pains to point out
- to her two passages which he affirms to be as fine as they are natural.
- Did ever love-letter contain anything so grisly? “A beam or two finds its
- way through the grates (of the vault), and reflects a feeble glimness from
- the nails of the coffins.” This is one passage—ghastly enough in all
- conscience. But it is surpassed by the others which he quotes: “Should the
- haggard skeleton lift a clattering hand.” Respecting the latter he
- remarks, “I know not whether the epithet 'haggard' might not be spared.”
- It is possible that the lady on receiving this curious love-letter was
- under the impression that the whole passage might have been spared her.
- </p>
- <p>
- But he seems to have been supping off horrors at this time, for he goes on
- to tell a revolting story about the black hole of Calcutta; and then he
- returns with zest to his former theme of murder and suicide. He had been
- reading the poem of “Faldoni and Teresa,” by Jerningham, and he criticises
- it quite admirably. “The melancholy tale will not take up three words,
- though Mr. J. has bestowed upon it 335 melancholy lines,” he tells the
- young lady. “Two lovers, meeting with an invincible object to their union,
- determined to put an end to their existence with pistols. The place they
- chose for the execution of their terrible project was a chapel that stood
- at a little distance from the house. They even decorated the altar for the
- occasion, they paid a particular attention to their own dress. Teresa was
- dressed in white with rose-coloured ribbands. The same coloured ribbands
- were tied to the pistols. Each held the ribband that was fastened to the
- other's trigger, which they drew at a certain signal.” His criticism of
- the poem includes the remark that Faldoni and Teresa might be prevented
- from making proselytes by working up their affecting story so as to take
- off the edge of the dangerous example they offer. This, he says, the
- author has failed to do, and he certainly proves his point later by
- affirming that “while I talk of taking off the dangerous edge of their
- example, they have almost listed me under their bloody banners.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This shows the morbid tendency of the man's mind, though it must be
- confessed that nearly all the remarks which he makes on ordinary topics
- are eminently sane and well considered.
- </p>
- <p>
- A few days later we find him entering with enthusiasm into a scheme,
- suggested by her, of meeting while she was on her way to London, and it is
- plain from the rapturous letter which he wrote to her that their plot was
- successful; but when she reached town she had a great deal to occupy her,
- so that it is not strange she should neglect him for a time. The fact was,
- as Cradock states in his <i>Memoirs</i>, that the unpopularity of Lord
- Sandwich and Miss Reay had increased during the winter to such a point
- that it became dangerous for them to show themselves together in public.
- Ribald ballads were sung under the windows of the Admiralty, and Cradock
- more than once heard some strange insults shouted out by people in the
- park. It was at this time that she spoke to Cradock about appearing in
- opera, and he states that it reached his ears that she had been offered
- three thousand pounds and a free benefit (a possible extra five hundred)
- for one season's performances.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now if she had really been in love with Hackman this was surely the moment
- when she should have gone to him, suffered him to marry her, and thus made
- up by a few years on the lyric stage for any deficiency in his fortune or
- for the forfeiture of any settlement her “benefactor” might have been
- disposed to make in her favour. But she seems to have shown a remarkable
- amount of prudence throughout the whole of her intrigue, and she certainly
- had a premonition of the danger to which she was exposed by her connection
- with him. “Fate stands between us,” she wrote in reply to one of his
- impetuous upbraiding letters. “We are doomed to be wretched. And I, every
- now and then, think some terrible catastrophe will be the result of our
- connection. 'Some dire event,' as Storge prophetically says in <i>Jephtha</i>,
- 'hangs over our heads.' Oh, that it were no crime to quit this world like
- Faldoni and Teresa... by your hand I could even die with pleasure. I know
- I could.”
- </p>
- <p>
- An extraordinary premonition, beyond doubt, to write thus, and one is
- tempted to believe that she had ceased for a moment merely to play the
- part of the afflicted heroine. But her allusion to Jephtha and, later in
- the same letter, to a vow which she said she had made never to marry him
- so long as she was encumbered with debts, alleging that this was the
- “insuperable reason” at which she had hinted on a previous occasion, makes
- one suspicious. One feels that if she had not been practising the music of
- <i>Jephtha</i> she would not have thought about her vow not to marry him
- until she could go to him free from debt. Why, she had only to sing three
- times to release herself from that burden.
- </p>
- <p>
- Some time afterwards she seems to have suggested such a way of getting
- over her difficulties, but it is pretty certain she knew that he would
- never listen to her. Her position at this time was undoubtedly one of
- great difficulty. Hackman was writing to her almost every day, and
- becoming more high-minded and imperious in every communication, and she
- was in terror lest some of his letters should fall into the hands of Lord
- Sandwich. She was ready to testify to his lordship's generosity in
- educating her to suit his own tastes, but she suspected its strength to
- withstand such a strain as would be put on it if he came upon one of Mr.
- Hackman's impetuous letters.
- </p>
- <p>
- She thought that when she had induced her lover to join his regiment in
- Ireland she had extricated herself from one of the difficulties that
- surrounded her; and had she been strong enough to refrain from writing to
- the man, she might have been saved from the result of her indiscretion.
- Unhappily for herself, however, she felt it incumbent on her to resume her
- correspondence with him. Upon one occasion she sent him a bank-note for
- fifty pounds, but this he promptly returned with a very proper letter.
- Indeed, all his letters from Ireland are interesting, being far less
- impassioned than those which she wrote to him. Again she mentioned having
- read <i>Werther</i>, and he promptly begged of her to send the book to
- him. “If you do not,” he adds, “I positively never will forgive you.
- Nonsense, to say it will make me unhappy, or that I shall not be able to
- read it! Must I pistol myself because a thick-blooded German has been fool
- enough to set the example, or because a German novelist has feigned such a
- story?”
- </p>
- <p>
- But it would appear that she knew the man's nature better than he himself
- did, for she quickly replied: “The book you mention is just the only book
- you should never read. On my knees I beg that you will never, never read
- it!” But if he never read <i>Werther</i> he was never without some story
- of the same type to console him for its absence, and he seems to have
- gloated over the telling of all to her. One day he is giving her the
- particulars of a woman who committed suicide in Enniskillen because she
- married one man while she was in love with another. His comment is, “She,
- too, was <i>Jenny</i> and had her <i>Robin Gray</i>.” His last letter from
- Ireland was equally morbid. In it he avowed his intention, if he were not
- granted leave of absence for the purpose of visiting her, of selling out
- of his regiment. He kept his promise but too faithfully. He sold out and
- crossed to England without delay, arriving in London only to find Miss
- Reay extremely ill.
- </p>
- <p>
- His attempts to cheer her convalescence cannot possibly be thought very
- happy. He describes his attendance upon the occasion of the hanging of Dr.
- Dodd, the clergyman who had committed forgery; and this reminds him that
- he was unfortunately out of England when one Peter Tolosa was hanged for
- killing his sweetheart, so that he had no chance of taking part in this
- ceremony as well, although, he says, unlike George S.—meaning Selwyn—he
- does not make a profession of attending executions; adding that “the
- friend and historian of Paoli hired a window by the year, looking out on
- the Grass Market in Edinburgh, where malefactors were hanged.” This
- reference to Boswell is somewhat sinister. All this letter is devoted to a
- minute account of the execution of Dodd, and another deals with the
- revolting story of the butchery of Monmouth, which he suggests to her as
- an appropriate subject for a picture.
- </p>
- <p>
- At this time he was preparing for ordination, and, incidentally, for the
- culmination of the tragedy of his life. He had undoubtedly become a
- monomaniac, his “subject” being murder and suicide. His last lurid story
- was of a footman who, “having in vain courted for some time a servant
- belonging to Lord Spencer, at last caused the banns to be put up at church
- without her consent, which she forbad. Being thus disappointed he
- meditated revenge, and, having got a person to write a letter to her
- appointing a meeting, he contrived to waylay her, and surprise her in Lord
- Spencer's park. On her screaming he discharged a pistol at her and made
- his escape.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh love, love, canst thou not be content to make fools of thy slaves,” he
- wrote, “to make them miserable, to make them what thou pleasest? Must thou
- also goad them on to crimes?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Only two more letters did he write to his victim. He took Orders and
- received the living of Wiveton, in Norfolk, seeming to take it for granted
- that, in spite of her repeated refusals to marry him, she would relent
- when she heard of the snug parsonage. This was acting on precisely the
- same lines as the butler of whom he wrote. When he found that Miss Reay
- was determined to play the part taken by the servant in the same story,
- the wretched man hurried up to London and bought his pistols.
- </p>
- <p>
- The whole story is a pitiful one. That the man was mad no one except a
- judge and jury could doubt. That his victim was amply punished for her
- indiscretion in leading him on even the strictest censor of conduct must
- allow.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- THE COMEDY AT DOWNING STREET
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was possibly
- because she was still conscious of having occupied the commanding position
- of one of the royal bridesmaids, in spite of the two years that had
- elapsed since King George III married his homely Mecklenburg princess,
- that Lady Susan Fox-Strangways, the daughter of the first Earl of
- Ilchester, became so autocratic during the rehearsal of the Downing Street
- Comedy. A pretty fair amount of comedy as well as tragedy—with a
- preponderance of farce—has been played in the same street from time
- to time, but the special piece in which Lady Susan was interesting herself
- was to be played at the house of Sir Francis Délavai, and its name was <i>The
- School for Lovers</i>. It had been originally produced by Mr. David
- Garrick at Drury Lane Theatre, an occasion upon which a young Irish
- gentleman called O'Brien, who had disgraced himself by becoming an actor,
- had attained great distinction. The piece had drawn the town during its
- protracted run of eight nights, and Sir Francis Delaval's company of
- amateurs perceived that it was just the play for them. It was said by the
- critics that, for the first time for many years, an actor had been found
- capable of playing the part of a gentleman of fashion as if to the manner
- born. They referred to the acting of Mr. O'Brien, about whose gentlemanly
- qualities there could be no doubt. Even his own brother actors affirmed
- that no such perfect gentleman as that of O'Brien's creating had ever been
- seen on the stage. So said Lee Lewes. Another excellent judge, named
- Oliver Goldsmith, declared that William O'Brien was an elegant and
- accomplished actor.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course this was the character, every aspiring amateur affirmed, to
- which a gentleman-born would do ample justice. When O'Brien, who was an
- actor, had represented the part with distinction, how much better would it
- not be played by the real thing—the real gentleman who might
- undertake it?
- </p>
- <p>
- That was the very plausible reasoning of the “real gentleman” who hoped to
- win applause by appearing in O'Brien's part in the comedy at Downing
- Street. But when the piece was rehearsed with the young Viscount B————
- in the character, Lady Susan threw up her hands, and threatened to throw
- up her part as well.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lud!” she cried to her associates in the temporary green-room, “Lud! you
- would fancy that he had never seen a gentleman of fashion in his life! Why
- cannot he act himself instead of somebody else? When he comes from
- rehearsal he is the very character itself, but the moment he begins to
- speak his part he is no more the part than the link-boy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Every one present agreed with her—the young gentlemen who were
- anxious to have the reversion of the part were especially hearty in their
- acquiescence.
- </p>
- <p>
- But there could be no doubt about the matter, Lord B———
- was deplorably incompetent. He was not even consistently incompetent, for
- in one scene in the second act, where there was an element of boisterous
- humour, he was tame and spiritless; but in the love-making scene, which
- brought the third act to a close, he was awkward, and so anxious to show
- his spirit that he became as vulgar as any country clown making advances
- to his Meg or Polly.
- </p>
- <p>
- And of course he felt all the time that he was doing amazingly well.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lady Susan was angry at first, and then she became witty. Her sallies,
- directed against him in every scene, were, however, lost upon him, no
- matter how calculated they were to sting him; he was too self-satisfied to
- be affected by any criticism that might be offered to him by man or woman.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then Lady Susan was compelled to abandon her wit and to become
- natural. She flounced off the stage when her lover (in the play) was more
- than commonly loutish, and burst into tears of vexation in the arms of her
- dear friend Lady Sarah Lennox.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I never had such a chance until now,” she cried. “Never, oh, never! The
- part might have been written for me; and I implore of you, Sarah, to tell
- me candidly if Mrs. Abington or Mrs. Clive could act it with more
- sprightliness than I have shown in that last scene?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Impossible, my sweet Sue!” cried her friend. “I vow that I have never
- seen anything more arch than your mock rejection of your lover, only to
- draw him on.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You dear creature!” cried Lady Sue. “You are a true friend and a
- competent critic, Sarah. But what signifies my acting, perfect though it
- be, when that—that idiot fails to respond in any way to the spirit
- which I display? The whole play will be damned, and people who know
- nothing of the matter will spread the report that 'twas my lack of power
- that brought about the disaster.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They cannot be so vile,” said Lady Sarah soothingly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But they will. I know how vile some of our friends can be when it suits
- them, and when they are jealous of the acquirements of another. They will
- sneer at my best scenes—oh, the certainty that they will do so will
- be enough to make my best scenes fail. But no! they shall not have the
- chance of maligning me. I will go to Sir Francis and resign my part. Yes,
- I will! I tell you I shall!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The indignant young lady, with something of the stage atmosphere still
- clinging to her, flung herself with the gesture of a tortured heroine,
- proud and passionate, toward the door of the room to which the two ladies
- had retired. But before she had her fingers on the handle the door opened
- and Sir Francis Délavai entered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A thousand pardons, my dear ladies,” he cried, bowing to the carpet. “I
- had forgot for the moment that when a man turns his house into a theatre
- he can call no room in it his own. But I should be a churl to suggest that
- any room in my poor house would not be made beautiful by the presence of
- your ladyships. After all, this is only my library, and a library is only
- a polite name for a dormitory, and a—but what is this? I said not a
- lacrymatory.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He was looking curiously into Lady Susan's face, which retained the marks
- of her recent tears.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dear Sir Francis, you have come in good time,” said Lady Sarah boldly.
- “Here is this poor child weeping her heart out because she is condemned to
- play the part of—of what's her name?—the lady in the play who
- had to make love to an ass?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, sir, mine is a far worse plight,” said Lady Susan, pouting. “It were
- bad enough for one to have to make love to an ass, but how much worse is't
- not for one to be made love to by—by—my Lord B———?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That were a calculation far above my powers,” said Sir Francis. “My lord
- has never made love to me, but if rumour and the gossip at White's speak
- even a soupçon of truth, his lordship is well practised in the art—if
- love-making is an art.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir, 'tis a combination of all the arts,” said Lady Susan; “and yet my
- lord cannot simulate the least of them, which is that of being a
- gentleman, when he makes love to me on the stage, through the character of
- Captain Bellaire in our play.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To be plain, Sir Francis,” said Lady Sarah, as though the other had not
- been plain enough in her explanation, “To be plain, Lady Susan, rather
- than be associated in any measure with such a failure as your theatricals
- are bound to be if my Lord B——— remains in the part of
- her lover, has made up her mind to relinquish her part. But believe me,
- sir, she does so with deep regret.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hence these tears,” said Sir Francis. “My poor child, you are indeed in a
- pitiable state if you are so deeply chagrined at a clumsy love-making
- merely on the stage.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Merely on the stage?” cried Lady Susan. “Lud, Sir Francis, have you not
- the wit to see that to be made love to indifferently on the stage is far
- more unendurable than it would be in private, since in the one case you
- have the eyes of all the people upon you, whereas in the other case you
- are as a rule alone?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As a rule,” said Sir Francis. “Yes, I perceive the difference, and I
- mingle mine own turgid tears with your limpid drops. But we cannot spare
- you from our play.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, you cannot, Sir Francis, but you can spare Lord B———,
- and so can the play,” suggested Lady Sarah.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What, you would have me turn him out of the part?” said Sir Francis.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Even so—but with politeness,” said Lady Sarah.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perhaps your ladyship has solved the problem how to kick a man out of
- your house politely. If so, I would willingly pay you for the recipe; I
- have been in search of it all my life,” said Sir Francis.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Surely, sir, if you kick a man hard enough with your slippers on he will
- leave your house as surely as if you wear the boots of a Life Guardsman,”
- said Lady Susan timidly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I doubt it not, madam; but before trying such an experiment it would be
- well to make sure that the fellow does not wear boots himself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Psha! Sir Francis. If a man were to beg leave to measure the thickness of
- his enemy's soles before offering to kick him there would be very few
- cases of assault and battery,” cried Lady Susan.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is good philosophy—see what we have come to—philosophy,
- when we started talking of lovemaking,” said Sir Francis.
- </p>
- <p>
- “However we have digressed in conversation, sir, our minds remain
- steadfast on the point round which we have been circling,” said Lady
- Sarah.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And that is———”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That Lord B———must go.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The door was thrown open and Lord B——— entered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A good preliminary—one must come before one goes,” whispered Sir
- Francis to the ladies.
- </p>
- <p>
- His lordship was evidently perturbed. He scarcely bowed either to Sir
- Francis or the ladies.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was told that you had come hither, Sir Francis,” he said, “so I
- followed you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You do me honour, my lord,” said Sir Francis.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I took a liberty, sir; but this is not a time for punctilio. I have come
- to resign my part in your play, sir,” said his lordship.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, surely not, my lord,” cried Sir Francis. “What would the <i>School
- for Lovers</i> be without Bellaire, my lord? Why only now Lady Susan was
- saying—what is it that your ladyship said?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It had something to do with philosophy and the sole of a grenadier,” said
- Lady Sarah interposing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, was it not that his lordship's impersonation made you think of a
- scene from <i>Midsummer Night's Dream?</i>” said Sir Francis. “One of the
- most beautiful of Shakespeare's plays, is't not, my lord?—fantasy
- mingled with irony, an oasis of fairyland in the midst of a desert of
- daily life.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know nothing about your fairyland, sir, but I have been told within the
- hour that her ladyship”—he bowed in the direction of Lady Susan—“has,
- during the three rehearsals which we have had of the play, been sneering
- in a covert way at my acting of the part of Bellaire, although to my face
- she seemed delighted, and thus——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are you sure that your informant was right in his interpretation of her
- ladyship's words? Surely your lordship—a man of the world—would
- have been sensible of every shade of her ladyship's meaning?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have been told by one on whose judgment I can rely that Lady Susan was
- speaking in sarcasm when she complimented me before the rest of the
- company. I did not take her as doing so for myself, I must confess. I have
- always believed—on insufficient evidence, I begin to fear—that
- her ladyship was a discriminating critic—even now if she were to
- assure me that she was not speaking in sarcasm——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, lud! he is relenting,” whispered Lady Sarah.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you speak, madam?” said his lordship.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was protesting against a too early exercise of your lordship's
- well-known spirit of forgiveness,” said her ladyship.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thank you, Lady Sarah; I am, I know, too greatly inclined to take a
- charitable view of—of—Why, sink me if she, too, is not trying
- to make me look ridiculous!” cried his lordship.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, my lord, I cannot believe that Lady Sarah would be at the pains to
- do for you what you can so well do for yourself,” remarked Lady Susan.
- </p>
- <p>
- His lordship looked at her—his mouth was slightly open—then he
- gazed at the smiling features of the beautiful Lady Sarah, lastly at the
- perfectly expressionless features of Sir Francis.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A plot—a plot!” he murmured. Then he struck a commonplace
- theatrical attitude, the “exit attitude” of the man who tells you that his
- time will come, though appearances are against him for the moment. He
- pointed a firm forefinger at Lady Susan, saying: “I wash my hands clear of
- you all. I have done with you and your plays. Get another man to fill my
- place if you can.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then he rushed out through the open door. He seemed to have a shrewd
- suspicion that if he were to wait another moment one at least of the girls
- would have an effective answer to his challenge, and it is quite likely
- that his suspicion was well founded. As it was, however, owing to his wise
- precipitancy he heard no more than the pleasant laughter—it really
- was pleasant laughter, though it did not sound so to him—of the two
- girls.
- </p>
- <p>
- But when the sound of the slamming of the hall-door reached the library
- the laughter in that apartment suddenly ceased. Sir Francis Délavai looked
- at each of the ladies, and both of them looked at him. For some moments no
- word was exchanged between them. At last one of them spoke—it was,
- strange to say, the man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This is vastly fine, ladies,” he remarked. “You have got rid of your <i>bête-noire</i>,
- Lady Susan; that, I say, is vastly fine, but where are you to find a <i>bête-blanche</i>
- to take his place?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Surely we can find some gentleman willing to act the part of Bellaire?”
- said Lady Sarah.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, there is not like to be a lack of young gentlemen willing to take the
- part, but we want not merely willingness, but competence as well; and the
- piece must be played on Wednesday, even though the part of Bellaire be
- left out,” said Sir Francis.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lady Susan looked blankly at the floor. She seemed ready to renew the
- tears which she had wept on the shoulder of her friend a short time
- before.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have I been too hasty?” she said. “Alas! I fear that I have been selfish.
- I thought only of the poor figure that I should cut with such a lover—and
- with all the world looking on, too! I should have given more thought to
- your distress, Sir Francis.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Say no more, I pray of you; better have no play at all than one that all
- our kind friends will damn with the utmost cordiality and good breeding,”
- said Sir Francis.
- </p>
- <p>
- “True, sir, but think of the ladies' dresses!” said Lady Sarah. “What the
- ladies say is, 'Better produce a play that will be cordially damned rather
- than deprive us of our chance of displaying our new dresses.'”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Heavens!” cried Sir Francis, “I had not thought of the new dresses. Lady
- Susan, you will e'en have to face the anger of your sisters—'tis not
- I that will tarry for such an event. I mean to fly to Bath or
- Brighthelmstone, or perchance to Timbuctoo, until the storm be overpast.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, nay, 'tis not a time for jesting, sir; let us not look at the matter
- from the standpoint of men, who do not stand but run away, let us be women
- for once, and scheme,” said Lady Susan.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is woman's special province,” said Sir Francis. “Pray begin, my lady—'twill
- be strange if your ladyship and Lady Sarah do not succeed in——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Psha! there is but one man in England who could play the part of Bellaire
- on Wednesday,” cried Lady Sarah. “Ay, sir, and he is the only one in
- England capable of playing it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then we shall have him on our stage if I should have to pay a thousand
- pounds for his services,” said Sir Francis. “But where is he to be found?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Cannot you guess, sir?” asked Lady Sarah, smiling.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Francis looked puzzled, but Lady Sue started and caught her friend by
- the wrist.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You do not mean——” she began.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lud! these girls! Here's a scheme if you will!” muttered Sir Francis.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ay, if you will, Sir Francis. You know that I mean Mr. O'Brien himself
- and none other,” cried Lady Sarah.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Impossible!” cried Lady Susan. “My father would never consent to my
- acting in a play with a real actor—no, not even if he were Mr.
- Garrick himself. How could you suggest such a thing, Sarah?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What, do you mean to tell me that you would refuse to act with Mr.
- O'Brien?” asked Lady Sarah.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, hear the child!” cried Lady Susan. “She asks me a question to which
- she knows only one answer is possible, and looks all the time as though
- she expected just the opposite answer!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know well that there are a good many ladies who would give all that
- they possess for the chance of acting with Mr. O'Brien, and you are among
- the number, my dear,” laughed Lady Sarah.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I dare not—I dare not. And yet——” murmured the other
- girl.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Francis had been lost in thought while the two had been bickering over
- the body of O'Brien. He had walked across the room and seated himself for
- some moments. Now he rose and held up a finger.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ladies, this is a serious matter for all of us,” he said. And he spoke
- the truth to a greater depth than he was aware of. “'Tis a very serious
- matter. If we get Mr. O'Brien to play the part, the piece will be the
- greatest success of the day. If we fail to get him, our theatricals will
- be damned to a certainty. Lady Susan, will you consent to play with him if
- his name does not appear upon the bill?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But every one would know Mr. O'Brien,” she faltered, after a pause that
- was overcharged with excitement.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, in fact; but no one will have official cognizance of him, and, as
- you must know, in these matters of etiquette everything depends upon
- official cognizance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My father—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “His lordship will have no <i>locus standi</i> in the case. He cannot take
- notice of an act that is not officially recognisable,” suggested Sir
- Francis, the sophist.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you assure me—— But is't true that Mr. O'Brien only ceased
- to become a gentleman when he became an actor?” said Lady Susan.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have not heard that he relinquished the one part when he took up the
- other,” said Sir Francis. “I wonder that you have not met him at the
- houses of some of our friends—he is more popular even than Mr.
- Garrick. The family of O'Brien——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All kings, I doubt not,” said Lady Susan. “There were a good many kings
- in Ireland in the old days, I believe. I read somewhere that ninety-seven
- kings were killed in one battle, and still there were quite enough left to
- carry on the quarrels of the country. Oh, yes, there were plenty of kings,
- and their descendants have—well, descended. Mr. O'Brien descended
- pretty far when he became a play-actor.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If he condescends to take up the part of Bellaire at the eleventh hour to
- pluck our theatricals out of the fire we shall have every reason to be
- grateful to him,” said Sir Francis with a severe air of reproof. He was
- beginning to be tired—as others in his place have been from time to
- time—of the capriciousness of his company of amateurs.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are right, sir,” said Lady Sarah. “Come, my dear Sue, cease to give
- yourself the airs of those ladies who, Mr. Garrick affirms, have been the
- plague of his life. If Mr. O'Brien agrees to come to our rescue you should
- have no feeling but of gratitude to him. Surely 'twere churlish on the
- part of a damsel when a gallant knight rides up to her rescue to look at
- his horse in the mouth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am thinking of my father,” said the other. “But I am disposed to accept
- the risk of the situation. You will promise that his name will not appear
- in the bills, Sir Francis?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will promise to do my best to save you from the contamination of having
- your name made as immortal as Mr. O'Brien's,” said Sir Francis.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lady Sarah laughed, and so did her friend—after a pause sufficient
- to allow the colour that had come to her face at the stinging reproof to
- die away.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hope that you may catch your bird, sir—your eagle—your
- Irish eagle.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I could tell him that Lady Sarah Lennox was to be in the cast of the
- play I should need no further lure for him,” said Sir Francis, making his
- most exquisite bow to her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, sir, you overwhelm me,” said Lady Sarah, sinking in her most
- ravishing courtesy.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lady Susan coloured once more, and her foot played a noiseless tattoo on
- the floor, for she perceived all that Sir Francis's compliment implied.
- Lady Sarah was the most beautiful girl in England, while Lady Susan was
- not even second to her, a fact of which she was as well aware as her
- friends.
- </p>
- <p>
- This was how Lady Susan Fox-Strangways first met Mr. O'Brien, the actor
- whom Garrick had brought from Ireland in the year 1762. He good-naturedly
- agreed to help Sir Francis Délavai in his extremity, and his ready Irish
- tact enabled him to be the first to stipulate that his name should not
- appear in the bills—a condition with which Sir Francis complied,
- drawing a long breath.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. O'Brien,” he said, “should the stage ever fail you, a fortune awaits
- you if you undertake the duty of teaching gentlemen the art of being a
- gentleman.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, sir, the moment that art enters the door the gentleman flies out by
- the window,” said the actor. “It is Nature, not art, that makes a
- gentleman.”
- </p>
- <p>
- One can well believe that Lady Susan Fox-Strangways, with all the pride of
- her connection with a peerage nearly ten years old, treated Mr. O'Brien's
- accession to a place in the company of amateurs with some hauteur, though
- it was said that she fell in love with him at once. On consideration, her
- bearing of hauteur which we have ventured to assign to her, so far from
- being incompatible with her having fallen in love with him, would really
- be a natural consequence of such an accident, and the deeper she felt
- herself falling the more she would feel it necessary to assert her
- position, if only for the sake of convincing herself that it was
- impossible for her to forget herself so far as to think of an Irish
- play-actor as occupying any other position in regard to her than that of a
- diversion for the moment.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was equally a matter of course that Lady Sarah should have an instinct
- of what was taking place. She had attended several of the rehearsals
- previously in the capacity of adviser to her friend, for Lady Susan had a
- high opinion of her critical capacity; but not until two rehearsals had
- taken place with O'Brien as Bellaire was she able to resume her attendance
- at Downing Street. Before half an hour had passed this astute lady had
- seen, first, that O'Brien made every other man in the cast seem a lout;
- and, secondly, that Lady Susan felt that every man in the world was a lout
- by the side of O'Brien.
- </p>
- <p>
- She hoped to discover what were the impressions of O'Brien, but she found
- herself foiled: the man was too good an actor to betray himself. The
- fervour which he threw into the character when making love to Lady Susan
- had certainly the semblance of a real passion, but what did this mean more
- than that Mr. O'Brien was a convincing actor?
- </p>
- <p>
- When she arrived at this point in her consideration of the situation Lady
- Sarah lost herself, and began to long with all her heart that the actor
- were making love to her—taking her hand with that incomparable
- devotion to—was it his art?—which he showed when Lady Susan's
- hand was raised, with a passionate glance into her eyes, to his lips;
- putting his arm about her waist, while his lips, trembling under the force
- of the protestations of undying devotion which they were uttering, were
- almost touching Lady Susan's ear. Before the love scene was over Lady
- Sarah was in love with the actor, if not with the man, O'Brien.
- </p>
- <p>
- So was every lady in the cast. O'Brien was the handsomest actor of the
- day. He had been careful of his figure at a time when men of fashion lived
- in such a way as made the preservation of a figure well-nigh impossible.
- Every movement was grace itself with him, and the period was one in which
- the costume of a man gave him every chance of at least imitating a
- graceful man. All the others in the cast of the play seemed imitating the
- gracefulness of O'Brien, and every man of them seemed a clown beside him.
- They gave themselves countless graces, but he was grace itself.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lady Sarah saw everything that was to be seen and said nothing. She was
- wise. She knew that in due time her friend would tell her all there was to
- be told.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was not disappointed. The play was produced, and of course every one
- recognised O'Brien in the part, although the bill—printed in gold
- letters on a satin ground, with a charming allegorical design by Lady
- Diana Spencer, showing a dozen dainty cupids going to school with satchels—stated
- that Bellaire would be represented by “a gentleman.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Equally as a matter of course a good many of the spectators affirmed that
- it was intolerable that a play-actor should be smuggled into a company of
- amateurs, some of them belonging to the best families. And then to attempt
- a deception of the audience by suggesting that O'Brien was a gentleman—oh,
- the thing was unheard of! So said some of the ladies, adding that they
- thought it rather sad that Lady Susan was not better-looking.
- </p>
- <p>
- But of the success of the entertainment there could not be a doubt. It was
- the talk of the town for a month, and every one noticed—even her own
- father—that Lady Susan was looking extremely thin and very pale.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lady Sarah said that she had taken the diversion of the theatricals too
- seriously.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I saw it from the first, my dear Sue,” she said.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sue sprang from her chair, and it would be impossible for any one to say
- now that she was over pale.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You saw it—you—what was it that you saw from the first?” she
- cried.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lady Sarah looked at her and laughed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, that is it—what was it that I saw from the first?” she said.
- “What I was going to say that I saw was simply that you were throwing
- yourself too violently into the production of the play. That was why you
- insisted on poor Lord B———'s getting his <i>congé</i>.
- It was a mistake—I saw that also.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “When did you see that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “When I saw you taking part in that love scene with Mr. O'Brien.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What mean you by that, Lady Sarah?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Exactly what you fancy I mean, Lady Susan.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Lady Susan gazed at her blankly at first, then very pitifully. In another
- moment she had flung herself on her knees at the feet of her friend and
- was weeping in her lap.
- </p>
- <p>
- The friend was full of sympathy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You poor child!” she murmured, “how could you help it? I vow that I
- myself—yes, for some minutes—I was as deep in love with the
- fellow as you yourself were. But, of course, you were with him longer—every
- day. Lud! what a handsome rascal he is, to be sure. His lordship must take
- you to the country without delay. Has the fellow tried to transfer the
- character in the play beyond the footlights?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never—never!” cried Susan. “Sir Francis was right—he is a
- gentleman. That is the worst of it!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, lud! the worst of it? Are you mad, girl?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am not mad now, but I know that I shall be if he remains a gentleman—if
- he refrains from telling me that he loves me—or at least of giving
- me a chance of telling him that I love him. That would be better than
- nothing—'twould be such a relief. I really do not think that I want
- anything more than to be able to confess to him that I love him—that
- 'tis impossible that I should love another.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The sooner you go to the country the better 'twill be for yourself and
- all of us—his lordship especially. Good heavens, child, you must be
- mad! Do you fancy that his lordship would give his consent to your
- marriage with a strolling player, let him be as handsome as Beelzebub?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is not a strolling player. Mr. O'Brien is in Mr. Garrick's company,
- and every one knows that he is of good family. I have been searching it
- out for the past week—all about the O'Briens—there were a
- great many of them, all of them distinguished. If it had not been that
- King James was defeated by William, in Ireland, Mr. O'Brien's grandfather
- would have been made a duke. They were all heroes, the O'Briens. And they
- were just too sincere in their devotion to the losing side—that was
- it—the losing side was always the one they took up. And yet you call
- him a strolling player!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I take back the insinuation and offer him my apologies; he is not a
- strolling player because he doesn't stroll—would to Heaven he did!
- Oh, my poor Sue, take a stroll into the country yourself as soon as
- possible and try to forget this dreadfully handsome wretch. You would not,
- I am sure, force me to tell his lordship what a goose his daughter is like
- to make of herself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- At this point there was a dramatic scene, one that was far more deeply
- charged with comedy of a sort than any to be found in Mr. Whitehead's
- play. Lady Susan accused her dear friend of being a spy, of extorting a
- confession from her under the guise of friendship, which in other
- circumstances—the rack, the wheel, the thumbscrew, in fact the
- entire mechanism of persuasion employed by the Spanish Inquisition—would
- have been powerless to obtain. Lady Sarah on her side entreated her friend
- not to show herself to be even a greater goose than her confession would
- make her out to be. For several minutes there was reproach and
- counter-reproach, many home truths followed home thrusts; then some tears,
- self-accusation, expressions of sympathy and tenderness, followed by
- promises of friendship beyond the dreams of Damon and Pythias; lastly, a
- promise on the part of Sue that she would take the advice of her devoted
- Sarah and fly to the country without delay.
- </p>
- <p>
- Strange to say, she fled to the country, and, stranger still, the result
- was not to cure her of her infatuation for the handsome actor. For close
- upon a year she did not see him, but she was as devoted to him as she had
- been at first, and no day passed on which she failed to think of him, or
- to spend some hours writing romantic verses, sometimes in the style of
- Waller in his lyrics, sometimes in the style (distant) of Mr. Dryden in
- his pastorals: she was Lesbia, and Mr. O'Brien was Strephon.
- </p>
- <p>
- But in the meantime she had improved so much in her acting that when Lady
- Sarah, who had within the year married Sir Thomas Bunbury, ventured to
- rally her upon her infatuation of the previous spring, she was able to
- disarm her suspicions by a flush and a shrug, and a little contemptuous
- exclamation or two.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, my dear one, did not I give you good advice?” cried Lady Sarah. “I
- was well assured that my beloved Sue would never persevere in a passion
- that could only end in unhappiness. But indeed, child, I never had the
- heart to blame you greatly, the fellow is handsome as Apollo and as proud
- as Apolyon. He has broken many hearts not accounted particularly fragile,
- during the year.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is't possible? For example?—I vow that I shall keep their names
- secret.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Lady Sarah shook her head at first, but on being importuned whispered a
- name or two of ladies of their acquaintance, all of whom—according
- to Lady Sarah—had fallen as deep as was possible in love with
- O'Brien. Her ladyship was so intent on her narration of the scandals that
- she quite failed to see the strange light that gleamed in her friend's
- eyes at the mention of every name—a rather fierce gleam, with a
- flash of green in it. She did not notice this phenomenon, nor did she
- detect the false note in the tribute of laughter which her friend paid to
- her powers of narration.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Lady Sue, when the other had left her, rushed to her room and flung
- herself on her bed in a paroxysm of jealousy. She beat her innocent pillow
- wildly, crying in the whisper that the clenching of her teeth made
- imperative—“The hussies! Shameless creatures! Do they hope that he
- will be attracted to them? Fools!—they are fools! They do not know
- him as I know him. They think that he is nothing but a vain actor—Garrick,
- or Barry, or Lewes. Oh, they do not know him!”
- </p>
- <p>
- She lay there in her passion for an hour, and if it was her maid who
- discovered her at the end of that time, it is safe to assume that the
- young woman's flesh was black and blue in places for several days
- afterwards. The pinch and the slipper were among the most highly approved
- forms of torture inflicted upon their maids at that robust period of
- English history. The French Revolution was still some way off.
- </p>
- <p>
- A few weeks later Lady Susan was sitting to Sir Joshua Reynolds for a
- group, in which he painted her with her friend Lady Sarah Bunbury and Mr.
- Henry Fox; and it was the carrying out of this scheme that put quite
- another scheme into the quick brain of the first-named lady. Painting was
- in the air. She possessed a poor print of Mr. O'Brien, and she had found
- an immense consolation in gazing upon it—frequently at midnight,
- under the light of her bedroom candle. The sight of the life-like
- portraits in Sir Joshua's studio induced her to ask herself if she might
- not possess a picture of her lover that would show him as he really was in
- life, without demanding so many allowances as were necessary to be made
- for the shortcomings of the engraver of a print. Why should she not get
- Sir Joshua Reynolds to paint for her the portrait of Mr. O'Brien?
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0016" id="linkimage-0016"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0379.jpg" alt="0379 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0379.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- The thought was a stimulating one, and it took possession of her for a
- week. At the end of that time, however, she came to the conclusion that it
- would be unwise for her to employ Sir Joshua on a commission that might
- possibly excite some comment on the part of her friends should they come
- to learn—and the work of this particular painter was rather inclined
- to be assertive—that it had been executed to her order. But she was
- determined not to live any longer without a portrait of the man; and,
- hearing some one mention at Sir Joshua's house the name of Miss Catherine
- Read, who was described as an excellent portrait painter, she made further
- inquiry, and the result was that she begged her father, the Earl of
- Ilchester, who was devoted to her, to allow her to have her portrait done
- by Miss Read, to present to Lady Sarah on her birthday.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course Miss Read was delighted to have the patronage of so great a
- family—she had not yet done her famous pastel of the Duchess of
- Argyll—and Susan, accompanied by her footman, lost no time in
- beginning her series of sittings to the artist to whom Horace Walpole
- referred as “the painteress.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She was both patient and discreet, for three whole days elapsed before she
- produced a mezzotint of Mr. O'Brien.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wonder if you would condescend to draw a miniature portrait of his
- lordship's favourite actor from so poor a copy as this, Miss Read?” she
- said. “Have you ever seen this Mr. O'Brien—an Irishman, I believe he
- is?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Miss Read assured her that Mr. O'Brien was her favourite actor also. The
- print produced was indeed a poor one; it quite failed to do justice to the
- striking features of the original, she said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I felt certain that it could bear but a meagre resemblance to Mr. O'Brien
- if all that I hear of the man be true,” said Lady Susan. “His lordship
- swears that there has never been so great an actor in England, and I
- should like to give him a surprise by presenting to him a miniature
- portrait of his favourite, done by the cunning pencil of Miss Read, on his
- birthday. I protest that 'tis a vast kindness you are doing me in
- undertaking such a thing. But mind, I would urge of you to keep the affair
- a profound secret. I wish it as a surprise to my father, and its effect
- would be spoilt were it to become known to any of his friends that I had
- this intention.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your ladyship may rest assured that no living creature will hear of the
- affair through me,” said the painteress. “But I heartily wish that your
- ladyship could procure for me a better copy than this print from which to
- work,” she added.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I fear that I cannot promise you that; I found two other prints of the
- same person, but they are worse even than this,” said Lady Susan. “You
- must do your best with the material at your disposal.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your ladyship may depend on my doing my best,” replied Miss Read. “When
- does his lordship's birthday take place?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Her ladyship was somewhat taken aback by the sudden question. It took her
- some time to recollect that her father's birthday was to be within a
- month. She felt that she could not live for longer than another month
- without a portrait of the man whom she loved.
- </p>
- <p>
- While she was going home in her chair she could not but feel that she had
- hitherto been an undutiful daughter, never having taken any interest in
- her father's birthday, and being quite unacquainted with its date. She
- hoped fervently that Miss Read would not put herself to the trouble to
- find out exactly on what day of what month it took place. The result of
- such an investigation might be a little awkward.
- </p>
- <p>
- It so happened that Miss Read took no trouble in this direction. All her
- attention was turned upon the task of making a presentable miniature out
- of the indifferent material with which she had been supplied for this
- purpose. She began wondering if it might not be possible to get O'Brien to
- sit to her half a dozen times in order to give her a chance of doing
- credit to herself and to the gentleman's fine features.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was still pondering over this question when her attendant entered with
- a card, saying that a gentleman had come to wait on her.
- </p>
- <p>
- She read the name on the card, and uttered an exclamation of surprise, for
- the name was that of the man of whom she was thinking—Mr. O'Brien,
- of Drury Lane Theatre.
- </p>
- <p>
- She had wholly failed to recover herself before he entered the studio, and
- advanced to her, making his most respectful bow. He politely ignored her
- flutter-ings—he was used to see her sex overwhelmed when he
- appeared.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam, I beg that you will pardon this intrusion,” he said. “I have taken
- the liberty of waiting upon you, knowing of your great capacity as an
- artist.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, sir!” cried the fluttered little lady, making her courtesy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, madam, I have no intention of flattering one to whom compliments
- must be as customary as they are well deserved,” said the actor. “I come
- not to confer a favour, madam, but to entreat one. In short, Miss Read, I
- am desirous of presenting a valued friend of mine with the portrait of a
- lady for whom he entertains a sincere devotion. For certain reasons, which
- I need not specify, the lady cannot sit to you; but I have here a picture
- of her poorly done in chalks, from which I hope it may be in your power to
- make a good—a good—— Good heavens! what do I behold? 'Tis
- she—she—Lady Susan herself!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He had glanced round the studio in the course of his speech, and his eyes
- had alighted upon the newly-begun portrait of Lady Susan. It represented
- only a few days' work, but the likeness to the original had been ably
- caught, and no one could fail to recognise the features.
- </p>
- <p>
- He took a hurried step to the easel, and the air made by his motion
- dislodged a print which the artist had laid on the little ledge that
- supported the stretcher of the canvas. The print fluttered to the floor;
- he picked it up, and gave another exclamation on recognising his own
- portrait in the mezzotint.
- </p>
- <p>
- Looking from the print to the picture and then at Miss Read, he said in a
- low voice, after a pause—“Madam, I am bewildered. Unless you come to
- my assistance I protest I shall feel that I am dreaming and asleep. Pray,
- madam, enlighten me—for Heaven's sake tell me how this”—he
- held up the print—“came into such close juxtaposition with that”—he
- pointed to the portrait on the easel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Tis easily told, sir,” said Miss Read, smiling archly. “But I must leave
- it to your sense of honour to keep the matter a profound secret.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam,” said Mr. O'Brien with dignity, “Madam, I am an Irishman.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is enough, sir; I know that I can trust you. The truth is, Mr.
- O'Brien, that Lady Susan is sitting to me for her portrait—that
- portrait. 'Twas marvellous that you should recognise it so soon. I have
- not worked at it for many hours.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam, your art is beyond that of the magician. 'Tis well known that
- every form depicted by Miss Read not only breathes but speaks.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, sir, I vow that you are a flatterer; still, you did recognise the
- portrait—'tis to be presented to Lady Sarah Bunbury.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Her ladyship will be the most fortunate of womankind.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Which ladyship, sir—Lady Susan or Lady Sarah?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Both, madam.” The Irishman was bowing with his hand on his heart. “But
- the print—my poor likeness?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is the secret, sir; but you will not betray it when I tell you that
- Lady Susan entrusted that print to me in order that I might make a copy in
- miniature for her to present to her father, Lord Ilchester. You are his
- favourite actor, Mr. O'Brien, as no doubt you are aware.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “'Tis the first I heard of it, madam.” There was a suggestion of
- mortification in the actor's tone.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, 'twould be impossible for Mr. O'Brien to keep an account of all his
- conquests. But now you can understand how it is that her ladyship wishes
- her intention to be kept a secret: she means to add to the acceptability
- of her gift by presenting it as a surprise. But her secret is safe in your
- keeping, sir?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I swear to it, madam.” Mr. O'Brien spoke mechanically. His hand was on
- his chin: he was clearly musing upon some question that perplexed him. He
- took a turn up and down the studio, and then said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam, it has just occurred to me that you, as a great artist——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nay, sir,” interposed the blushing painteress.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will not take back a word, madam,” said the actor, holding up one
- inexorable hand. “I say that surely so great an artist as you should
- disdain to do the work of a mere copyist. Why should not you confer upon
- me the honour of sitting to you for the miniature portrait?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, sir, that is the one favour which I meant to ask of you, if my
- courage had not failed me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam, you will confer immortality upon a simple man through that magic
- wand which you wield.” He swept his hand with inimitable grace over the
- mahl-stick which lay against the easel. “I am all impatient to begin my
- sitting, Miss Read. Pray let me come to-morrow.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Her ladyship comes to-morrow.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shall precede her ladyship. Name the hour, madam.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Without the least demur Miss Read named an hour which could enable him to
- be far away from the studio before Lady Susan's arrival.
- </p>
- <p>
- And yet the next day Lady Susan entered the studio quite half an hour
- before Mr. O'Brien had left it. Of course she was surprised. Had not Miss
- Read received a letter, making her aware of the fact that she, Lady Susan,
- would be forced, owing to circumstances over which she had no control, to
- sit for her portrait an hour earlier than that of her appointment?
- </p>
- <p>
- When Miss Read said she had received no such letter, Lady Susan said some
- very severe things about her maid. Miss Read was greatly fluttered, but
- she explained in as few words as possible how it was that Mr. O'Brien had
- come forward in the cause of art, and was sitting for the miniature. Lady
- Susan quickly got over her surprise. (Had Miss Read seen the letter which
- her ladyship had received the previous evening from Mr. O'Brien she would
- not have marvelled as she did at the rapidity with which her ladyship
- recovered her self-possession.) Her ladyship was quite friendly with the
- actor, and thanked him for his courtesy in offering to give up so much of
- his time solely for the sake of increasing the value of her gift to her
- father.
- </p>
- <p>
- A few minutes later, while they were discussing some point in the design
- of the picture, Miss Read was called out of the studio, and in a second
- Lady Susan was in his arms.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fate is on our side, darling girl!” he whispered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I could not live without you, my charmer. But I was bold! I took my fate
- in both hands when I wrote you that letter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dear one, 'twas the instinct of true love that made you guess the truth—that
- I wanted the portrait because I loved the original. Oh, dear one, what
- have I not suffered during the year that has parted us!” said Lady Susan,
- with her head upon his shoulder.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Irishman found it necessary to fall back upon the seductive tongue of
- his country for words of endearment to bestow upon her. He called her
- “Sheila,” “a cushla machree,” “mavourneen,” and also “aroon.” But when
- Miss Read returned to the studio they were still discussing a purely
- artistic point in connection with the portrait.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course now that O'Brien knew the secret of the miniature there was no
- reason that Miss Read could see why he and Lady Susan should not meet at
- her studio. To do her justice, neither could her ladyship perceive why
- they should not come together at this place. They came every day, and
- every day Lady Susan begged that Miss Read would allow her to rest in her
- ante-room after the fatigue of the sitting. She rested in that room, and
- in the company of O'Brien, until at last Miss Read became frightened; and
- one day told her friend Lord Cathcart something of her fears. Lord
- Cathcart, in his turn, told Lord Ilchester. His lordship was furious, but
- cautious.
- </p>
- <p>
- He wanted evidence of his daughter's infatuation. He got it the next
- morning, for he insisted on seeing a letter which arrived for Lady Susan,
- addressed in the handwriting of Lady Sarah. This letter turned out to be
- from O'Brien, and Susan confessed that her father's surmise was correct—all
- the letters which she had recently received in Lady Sarah's hand had come
- from O'Brien.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her father was foolish enough to grant her permission to say farewell to
- her lover, and thus the two were allowed to come together once more. They
- had a long talk, in the course of which O'Brien communicated to her a
- secret of the theatre, which was that Mr. Garrick and Mr. Colman were
- engaged in the construction of a comedy to be called <i>The Clandestine
- Marriage</i>, and that Mr. Garrick told him that he, O'Brien, was to play
- the part of the lover—the gentleman who had married the lady in
- secret.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lady Susan parted from her lover, not in tears, but in laughter.
- </p>
- <p>
- The conclusion of the story is told by Horace Walpole, writing to Lord
- Hertford.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will have heard of the sad misfortune that has happened to Lord
- Ilchester by his daughter's marriage with O'Brien, the actor,” wrote
- Walpole; and then went on to tell how Lady Susan had made her confession
- to her father, vowing to have nothing more to do with her lover if she
- were but permitted to bid him good-bye. “You will be amazed,” continued
- Walpole, “even this was granted. The parting scene happened the beginning
- of the week. On Friday she came of age, and on Saturday morning—instead
- of being under lock and key in the country—walked downstairs, took
- her footman, said she was going to breakfast with Lady Sarah, but would
- call at Miss Read's; in the street pretended to recollect a particular cap
- in which she was to be drawn, sent the footman back for it, whipped into a
- hackney chair, was married at Covent Garden Church, and set out for Mr.
- O'Brien's villa at Dunstable.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Unlike many other alliances of a similar type, this marriage turned out a
- happy one. O'Brien was induced to leave the stage and to depart with his
- wife for America. He obtained a grant of some forty thousand acres in the
- province of New York, and had he retained this property and taken the
- right side during the Revolution his descendants would to-day be the
- richest people in the world. A few years later he was given a good
- appointment in Bermuda; and finally, in 1770, he was made Receiver-General
- of the County of Dorset, and became popular as a country squire. He died
- in 1815, and Lady Susan survived him by twelve years.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was Lady Sarah who had made the imprudent marriage. She submitted to
- the cruelties of her husband for fourteen years, and on her leaving his
- roof he obtained a divorce.
- </p>
- <p>
- In 1781, nineteen years after her first marriage, she wedded the Hon.
- George Napier, and became the mother of three of the greatest Englishmen
- of the nineteenth century. She lived until she was eighty. Her friend Lady
- Susan followed her to the grave a year later, at the age of eighty-four.
- </p>
- <h3>
- THE END
- </h3>
- <div style="height: 6em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
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-</pre>
-
- </body>
-</html>
+<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + A Georgian Pageant, by Frank Frankfort Moore + </title> + <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} + .x-small {font-size: 75%;} + .small {font-size: 85%;} + .large {font-size: 115%;} + .x-large {font-size: 130%;} + .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} + .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} + .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} + .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} + .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} + .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; + font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; + text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; + border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} + .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} + span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 51964 ***</div> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + A GEORGIAN PAGEANT + </h1> + <h2> + By Frank Frankfort Moore + </h2> + <h3> + With Illustrations + </h3> + <h4> + London: Hutchinson & Co. Paternoster Row + </h4> + <h3> + 1908 + </h3> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0001.jpg" alt="0001 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0001.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0008.jpg" alt="0008 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0008.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0009.jpg" alt="0009 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0009.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> THE WRITER'S APOLOGY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> THE MONARCH OF THE PAGEANT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> A COMEDY IN ST. MARTIN'S STREET </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> A TRAGEDY IN THE HAYMARKET </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> THE FATAL GIFT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> THE FÊTE-CHAMPÊTRE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> THE PLOT OF A LADY NOVELIST </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> TRAGEDY WITH A TWINKLE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> THE BEST COMEDY OF THE CENTURY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> THE JESSAMY BRIDE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> THE AMAZING ELOPEMENT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> THE AMAZING DUELS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> A MELODRAMA AT COVENT GARDEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> THE COMEDY AT DOWNING STREET </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE WRITER'S APOLOGY + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE greater number + of the papers in this series, dealing with some well-known persons and + incidents of the latter half of the Eighteenth Century, are the practical + result of a long conversation which the writer had with the late Professor + J. Churton Collins upon a very memorable occasion. The writer ventured to + contend that the existing views respecting the personality of Oliver + Goldsmith, of Henry Thrale, of James Boswell, of Samuel Johnson, and of + some others whom he named, were grossly erroneous; as were also the + prevalent notions respecting such matters as Fanny Burney's attendance + upon the Queen, the “romance” of the Gunnings, and the “elopement” of + Richard Brinsley Sheridan with Elizabeth Linley. If Professor Churton + Collins had not urged upon the writer the possible interest attaching to + the expression of some opinions unbiassed by those conservators of the + conventional who have dealt with the same period, every one of them being + as careful as Indians on the warpath to tread in the footsteps of the man + preceding him, he would not have the courage to set forth his views in the + form they now assume. + </p> + <p> + The non-controversial papers in the series may increase the light and + shade in the sketches of this very humble Georgian Pageant. The romance of + Lady Susan Fox-Strangways naturally took the shape of a “regulation” + story. The details are absolutely correct. + </p> + <p> + On the very day the writer meant to keep the promise he made to Professor + Churton Collins, by sending him the completed proofs of this book, the + melancholy news of his death was published—an irreparable loss to + the Literature of English Criticism. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE MONARCH OF THE PAGEANT + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>n the morning of + February 2nd, 1789, a lady was taking a solitary stroll in Kew Gardens. + She was a small person, of dainty features, with a dimple on each side of + her mouth that suggested a smile, varying, perhaps out of compliment to + the variations of the people with whom she came in contact in her daily + life, and shifting doubtless with the movements of the folk of her fancy + through her quick brain, but remaining a smile all the time. There was + about her a good deal of that doll-like primness which is so pretty an + accompaniment of a person of small stature; but with this particular + person it had—not quite, but almost—the additional charm of + dignity. One could at all times see that she was making a highly + intellectual attempt to be dignified; but that she was not really + dignified at heart. One could see that she had too fine a sense of humour + to be thoroughly dignified; and it may be that some of her closest + observers—her closest observers were her greatest admirers—perceived + now and again that she had a full sense of the humour of her efforts in + the direction of dignity. She had large eyes, but being very + short-sighted, she had a habit of half closing them when looking at + anything or any one further away from her than ten feet. But somehow it + was never suggested that the falling of her lids brought a frown to her + face. + </p> + <p> + She was a quick walker at all times; but on this winter day the slowest + would have had little temptation to dawdle. The usual river mist was + thrusting up a quivering cold hand among the gaunt trees of the water + boundary of the Gardens, and here and there it flitted like a lean spectre + among the clipped evergreens of the shrubberies. There was a maze of yew + hedges, in the intricacies of which one mist-spectre had clearly got lost; + and the lady, who had some imagination, could see, as she hurried past, + the poor thing's wispy head and shoulders flitting about among the + baffling central walks. (A defective eyesight is sometimes a good friend + to the imagination.) And all the while she was hurrying along the broad + track she was looking with some measure of uneasiness through her + half-closed eyes down every tributary walk that ran into the main one, and + peering uneasily down every long artificial vista that Sir Thomas + Chambers, the Swedish knight and landscape gardener, had planned, through + the well-regulated boskage, with an imitation Greek temple or Roman villa + at the end. Approaching the widening entrance to each of these, she went + cautiously for a few moments until she had assured herself on some point. + Once she started and took a step backward, but raising the lorgnette which + she carried, and satisfying herself that the group of men a hundred yards + down one of the vistas was composed wholly of gardeners, she resumed her + stroll. + </p> + <p> + Whatever slight apprehension may have been on her mind had vanished by the + time she had half completed the circuit made by the main walk. She had + reached one of the mounds which at that time were covered with + rhododendrons, and paused for a moment to see if there was sign of a bud. + A blackbird flew out from among the dense leafage, and she followed it + with her eyes as well as she could while she walked on, crossing the + narrow path that led to the seats on the mound. But at the moment of + crossing she was startled out of her senses by the sound of a shout from + some distance down this path—a loud shout followed by several others + rather less imperative. She gave a little exclamation of terror, raising + her muff to her face. Glancing in the direction whence the commotion was + coming, she gave another cry, seeing a tall man rush toward her with + outstretched arms—waving arms, frantically beckoning to her while he + shouted: + </p> + <p> + “Miss Burney! Miss Burney!” + </p> + <p> + She waited no longer. She turned and fled along the broad walk, making for + one of the many labyrinths not so very far away, and after her ran the + man, still shouting and gesticulating. She could hear the sound of his + feet and his voice behind her, as well as the cries of the other men who + were endeavouring to keep pace with him. On they came, and there flashed + through her active brain, in spite of the horrible apprehension which + thrilled through every nerve in her body, as she doubled back upon the + path which she had just traversed, the lines written by Dr. Goldsmith and + often quoted by her friend Dr. Johnson: + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="indent20"> + A hare whom hounds and horns pursue, + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + Pants to the place from whence at first he flew. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + She realised, all too painfully, the feelings of the poor hare at that + moment. She longed for a friendly earth to open up before her. They were + behind her—those wild huntsmen, one hoarsely yelling to her she knew + not what, the others, more shrill, shouting to her to stop. + </p> + <p> + She was too frightened to think of obeying any of them. On she ran, and it + seemed that she was increasing the distance between her and her panting + pursuers, until one of them, having better wind, managed to shoot ahead of + the others, and to get close enough to say in a voice that was not all + gasps: + </p> + <p> + “Madam, madam, the doctor begs you to stop!” She glanced over her + shoulder, still flying. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, I cannot—I dare not!” she gasped. + </p> + <p> + “Madam, you must—you must: it hurts the King to run!” cried the man. + </p> + <p> + Then she stopped. The man, an ordinary attendant, stood in front of her. + He was more breathless than Miss Burney. + </p> + <p> + “The doctor, madam,” he faltered, “'twas the doctor—he thought at + first that His Majesty was—was—but that was at first—now + he says you must please not lead His Majesty on—'tis all too much + for him. Save us! How you did go, madam! Who would ha' thought it?” + </p> + <p> + She was paying no attention to him. Her eyes were fixed upon the group of + men who were recovering their breath while they walked slowly toward her. + The King was between his two physicians—not Physicians in Ordinary; + just the contrary—the two physicians who had been summoned from + Lincolnshire by some person in authority who possessed intelligence—it + should surely be easy to identify such a man at the Court of George III—when, + some months earlier, His Majesty gave signs of losing his mental balance. + They were the Willises, father and son, the former a clergyman, who was + therefore all the more fully qualified to deal with a mind diseased—such + a case as was defined as needing more the divine than the physician. The + King was between the father and his son, but neither of them was + exercising any ostentatious or officious restraint upon him. One of them + was smiling while he said some reassuring words to the Royal patient; the + other was endeavouring to reassure little Miss Burney from a distance. + </p> + <p> + And it seemed that the intentions of both were realised, for His Majesty + was smiling as benignly as was ever his wont, and little Miss Burney took + her courage in both hands and boldly advanced to meet her Sovereign. (She + had been for three years the Queen's “Dresser.”) But when they met, after + the King had cried, “Why did you run away from me, Miss Burney?” it + appeared that the process of reassuring the King had been but too + effectually accomplished, for before the lady could frame a diplomatic + reply to his inquiry, he had enwound her in his paternal arms and kissed + her heartily on the cheek, greatly to her confusion and (she pretends) to + her horror. The two doctors stood placidly by. They, poor things, being + quite unaccustomed to the ways of the immediate entourage of the Court of + George III—though they had doubtless heard something of the + practices that prevailed at the Courts of His Majesty's lamented + grandfather and great-grandfather—seemed under the impression that + there was nothing unusual in this form of salutation. For all they knew it + might be regarded as <i>de rigueur</i> between a monarch and the ladies of + his consort's retinue. Even Dr. Willis, the divine, took a tolerant view + of the transaction. He, as Miss Burney afterwards recorded, actually + looked pleased! + </p> + <p> + But, of course, the prim little lady herself was overwhelmed—yes, at + first; but soon her good sense came to her rescue. She seems to have come + with extraordinary rapidity to the conclusion that the King was not so mad + as she had believed him to be. Her train of reasoning was instinctive, and + therefore correct: the King had put his arms about her and kissed her when + he had the chance, therefore he could not be so mad after all. + </p> + <p> + In truth, however, Fanny Burney took the view of her treatment that any + sensible modest young woman would take of it. She knew that the King, who + had been separated for several months from the people whom he had been + daily in the habit of meeting, had shown in the most natural way possible + his delight at coming once more in contact with one of them. + </p> + <p> + And undoubtedly the homely old gentleman was delighted beyond measure to + meet with some one belonging to his happy years—a pleasanter face + than that of Mrs. Schwellenberg, the dreadful creature who had made Fanny + Burney's life miserable. It is not conceivable that the King would have + kissed Mrs. Schwellenberg if he had come upon her suddenly as he had upon + Miss Burney. People prefer silver rather than iron links with a happy + past. He was so overjoyed, that the divine and the physician in attendance + soon became anxious. They could not know much of all that he talked about + to Miss Burney. They were in the position of strangers suddenly introduced + to a family circle, and understanding nothing of the little homely secrets—homely + topics upon which all the members of the circle have laughed together for + years. + </p> + <p> + They possibly could not see much sense in his long and rambling chat—it + must have been largely in monologue—but they must have observed the + face of the lady who was listening to him, and known from the expression + which it wore that their patient was making himself intelligible. Only now + and again they thought it prudent to check his exuberance. They must have + been the most intelligent of men; and their names deserve to stand high in + the annals of their country. At a time when the scientific treatment of + the insane had not even begun to be formulated—when to be mentally + afflicted meant to be on a level with felons and to be subjected to such + repressive treatment as was afforded by the iron of the fetters and the + hiss of the whipcord—at a time when a lust for office could make a + statesman like Burke (a statesman who caused multitudes to weep in + sympathy with his harangue on the sufferings of Marie Antoinette) refer to + the King as having been “hurled by the Almighty from his throne” (in order + to give the Opposition a chance of jumping into place and power over his + prostrate body)—at such a time as this Dr. Willis and his two sons + undertook the treatment of the King, and in the face of much opposition + from the place-hunters in the Prince of Wales's pack, succeeded in + restoring their patient to the palace which his happy nature had + transformed into a home for every one dwelling under its roof. + </p> + <p> + They stood by for some time after the King had greeted Miss Burney; and + when he began to speak to her of topics that had a purely domestic ring + they showed their good taste, as well as their knowledge of the + peculiarities of their “case,” by moving away to a little distance, + signalling to their attendants to do the same. Their discrimination must + have been highly appreciated by the King. The poor restless mind had long + wanted such a good long talk with a sympathetic listener, who, he knew, + could understand every allusion that he might make to the past. He yearned + to talk and to hear of such things as some one living in a distant land + looks forward to finding in a letter from home. The <i>res angusta domi</i>—that + was what he was hungering for—the trivial things in which he + delighted—the confidences on simple matters—the sly everyday + jests, never acutely pointed even to the family circle, but absolutely + pointless to every one outside, yet sounding so delightfully witty when + repeated as a sign of a happy intimacy of the past! + </p> + <p> + Little Miss Burney had never imagined a scene like that in which she + played an insignificant part at the moment, but one of enormous importance + for posterity. She had, a few years before, been placed upon the porphyry + pedestal which is reserved in England for the greatest woman writer of the + generation. Seated there quite complacently, without reflecting upon the + possibility of her pedestal becoming a trifle rickety, she had clasped her + novel <i>Evelina</i> to her bosom, and received, without her head being in + the least turned, the adulation—respectful in some cases, almost + passionate in others—of the most notable men and women in the most + intellectual and artistic society in England. Dr. Samuel Johnson, who was + not disposed to overrate the merits of any writer whom the world had + praised, was kissing her hands, and Richard Brinsley Sheridan was kissing + her feet; Sir Joshua Reynolds was kissing the hem of her garments; while + Edmund Burke was weaving a tinsel crown of rhetoric for her shapely head; + but there were others equally great at that time who seemed to think that + only a nimbus could give the appropriate finish to the little personage on + the pedestal. The marvellous story of her success has been often told. It + is more easily told than understood in the present day, the fact being + that fashion in fiction is the most ephemeral of all human caprices, and + Fanny Burney was essentially a fashion. She followed up the marvellous + success of <i>Evelina</i>, after an interval of four years, with the + natural success of <i>Cecilia</i>, and, after another four years, she + retired from the brilliant world into the obscurity of the palace—the + palace wardrobe. She had visited Mrs. Delany, and had been introduced (not + presented) to the King and Queen, and the office of Queen's Dresser—Keeper + of the Robes was the stately designation of a very humble service—becoming + vacant, it was offered to Fanny Burney and accepted by her, acting on the + advice of her father, who most certainly hoped that his own interests as a + musician, fully qualified to become leader of the Royal Band, would be + materially advanced when his daughter should become one of the Household. + </p> + <p> + Reams of indignation have been published from time to time in respect of + Dr. Burney's conduct in urging on his one brilliant daughter—the + others were not brilliant, only mothers—to accept a post the duties + of which could be discharged by any lady's maid with far more advantage to + the Royal Consort than could possibly result from the ministrations of + Fanny Burney. The world has been called on to bemoan the prudent + indiscretion of the father, who did not hesitate to fling his gifted + daughter's pen out of the window, so to speak, and thereby deprive the + waiting world of some such masterpiece as <i>Camilla</i>—the novel + which she published five years after her release from the burden of the + Robes. There can be no doubt that the feeling which prevailed among the + circle of the elect—the Reynoldses, the Burkes, and even the frigid + Walpole—when it became known that Miss Burney's health was breaking + down under the strain of her duties at the Court—she had about two + hours' daily attendance of the most ordinary nature upon the Queen—was + on the border of indignation. Every one affirmed that it was a disgrace + for so lively a genius to be kept at the duties of a lady's maid. It was + like turning the winner of the Oaks out to the plough. Edmund Burke, + recalling his early approbation of the intentions of Dr. Burney in regard + to his daughter, declared that he had never made so great a mistake in all + his life; and we know that he made a few. These excellent people had no + reason to speak otherwise than they did on this matter. All they knew was + that the pen of the novelist who had given them so much pleasure had been + (as they believed) idle for nearly nine years, five of which had been + passed at the Court. That reflection was quite enough to rouse their + indignation. But what can one say of the indignation on this point of a + writer who actually made the fact of his being engaged on a review of the + Diary of Fanny Burney—the incomparable Diary which she kept during + her five years at Court—an excuse for turning the vials of his wrath + upon her father, whose obstinacy gave her a chance of writing the most + interesting chapter—the most accurate chapter—of History that + was ever penned by man or woman? + </p> + <p> + Macaulay wrote in all the fullness of his knowledge of what Fanny Burney + had written. He knew that for four years after she had published <i>Cecilia</i> + her pen had been idle so far as fiction was concerned. He knew that for + five years after her release from the thraldom of the Queen's closet she + had published nothing; he himself felt it to be his duty to point out the + comparative worthlessness of <i>Camilla</i>, the novel which she then gave + to the world, not because she felt upon her the impulse of a woman of + genius, but simply because she found herself in great need of some ready + money. Macaulay does not disdain to go into the money question, showing + (he fancies) how Dr. Burney had by his obstinacy deprived his gifted + daughter of earning the large sum which she would assuredly have obtained + by the writing of a novel in the time that she was compelled to devote to + the Queen's <i>toilette</i>. He found it convenient to ignore the fact + that of the fourteen years that elapsed between the publication of <i>Cecilia</i> + and that of <i>Camilla</i> only five were spent at Court. Surely any born + novelist could, without running a chance of imperilling a well-earned + reputation by undue haste in the dialogue or by scamping the descriptive + passages, contrive by dint of hard, but not over-hard, work to produce + more than one complete romance within a space of nine years. Many ladies + who are not born novelists have succeeded in surpassing this task without + physical suffering. + </p> + <p> + But even assuming that the author of <i>Evelina, Cecilia, and Camilla</i> + lost not only time but money while she was at Court, how much money did + she lose? She received at least the equivalent of £2000 for her five + years' service, and she was granted a pension of £100 a year, which she + drew for forty-nine years; so that for her enforced seclusion she was + remunerated to the extent of close upon £7000! This sum represents more + than all Fanny Burney's literary works yielded to her from the joyous + youthful days of <i>Evelina</i> down to the somewhat sordid middle age of + <i>Camilla</i>. + </p> + <p> + But what has the world gained by the lamentable short-sightedness + attributed to Dr. Burney? How is one to estimate the value of that + incomparable Diary so admirably “written up” during her tedious five years + at Court? How many <i>Cecilias</i>, how many <i>Camillas</i> would one not + give in exchange for a single year of that part of the Diary which deals + with the approach of the King's malady? In no work of fiction that ever + came from her pen did she ever show such power of observation, not only of + incident, but of character as well; nor is there apparent on any page + produced by her imagination such perfect artistic effects as appeal to a + reader on every page of this Diary of a disease. + </p> + <p> + At the outset of her account of these dreadful days we are conscious of + the vague approach of a shadow—we feel as if we were led into the + darkened chamber of a haunted house. Our attendant pauses by our side, + listening for strange noises; she lays a hand upon our arm, as it were, + and speaks to us in a whisper. We feel that the dread Thing is coming. The + King is indisposed—he has not been quite in his usual health for + some time past; but of course nothing very alarming has been announced by + Sir George Barker, the Physician in Ordinary, although there is an + uncertainty as to His Majesty's complaint. But Miss Burney has seen the + faces of the people about her who have come more closely in contact with + the Sovereign; she has doubtless noticed the solemnity of some—the + airs of mystery, the head-shakings, and she is capable of drawing her own + conclusions. “Heaven preserve him!” she whispers in her Diary for October + 19th, 1788. She is very much with the Queen, and she perceives that Her + Majesty is extremely uneasy, though saying nothing. There is great alarm + during the night. Possibly some one has heard the delirious voice of the + King coming from his apartments in that tumbledown palace of his at Kew. + The fright is general, and every one is wondering what the morning will + bring forth. Hope comes with the light. The bulletin is that the King was + ill, but is now so very much better that his physician believes the move + to Windsor, to which the Court was looking forward, may be taken. The move + is made on the 25th, and then Miss Burney has a chance meeting with the + King that causes her to suspect the truth. He talks to her with unnatural + vehemence—unnatural volubility—and without cessation for a + long time; all is exaggerated, and his graciousness most of all. She has + never met with anything like this before, but having heard of the delirium + accompanying a high fever, she believes that His Majesty is in the throes + of a fever. + </p> + <p> + The next day is Sunday, and she meets him again in one of the passages, + and she finds him rather more coherent in his talk, but still it is the + talk of a man in the delirium of a fever. It is all about himself—his + health—his dreadful sleeplessness. He keeps at it for half an hour + without making the slightest pause; and yet he manages to convey to her an + impression of his benevolence—his consideration for the people + around him—his hopes that he may not cause them any uneasiness. When + he leaves her she doubtless tells of the meeting to some of her friends in + the apartments where the equerries are accustomed to meet, and doubtless + there are more head-shakings and airs of mystery; but she records: “Nobody + speaks of his illness, nor what they think of it.” + </p> + <p> + Apparently, too, no one felt it to be necessary to subject His Majesty to + any course of treatment, although, a few days later, he became so weak + that he, who at the beginning of the year thought nothing of walking + twelve miles at a stretch—more than his sons could do—hobbled + along like a gouty man. Gradually, very gradually, the horror approaches; + and nothing that has ever been done in fiction equals in effect the simple + record of all that Fanny Burney noticed from day to day. Most touching of + all her entries are those relating to the Queen. “The Queen,” she writes, + “is almost overpowered with some secret terror. I am affected beyond all + expression in her presence to see what struggles she makes to support her + serenity. To-day she gave up the conflict when I was alone with her; and + burst into a violent fit of tears. It was very, very terrible to see!... + something horrible seemed impending... I was still wholly unsuspicious of + the greatness of the cause she had for dread. Illness, a breaking up of + the constitution, the payment of sudden infirmity and premature old age + for the waste of unguarded health and strength—these seemed to me + the threats awaiting her; and great and grievous enough, yet how short of + the fact!”... + </p> + <p> + At last the terrible truth was revealed. Miss Burney was dining with one + of the Queen's ladies; but there was little conversation between them. It + was clear that both had their suspicions of the nature of the dread shadow + that was hovering over the castle. They remained together, waiting for the + worst. “A stillness the most uncommon reigned over the whole house. Nobody + stirred; not a voice was heard; not a motion. I could do nothing but + watch, without knowing for what; there seemed a strangeness in the house + most extraordinary.” + </p> + <p> + To talk of such passages as these as examples of literary art would be + ridiculous. They are transcripts from life itself made by some one with a + genius for observation, not merely for recording. Boswell had a genius for + recording; but his powers of observation were on a level with those of a + sheep. We know perfectly well what his treatment of the scenes leading up + to the tragedy of the King would have been. But Fanny Burney had the + artist's instinct for collecting only such incidents as heighten the + effect. + </p> + <p> + When she is still sitting in the dim silence of that November evening with + her friend some one enters to whisper that there was to be no playing of + the after-dinner music in which the King usually took so much pleasure. + Later on the equerries come slowly into the room. There is more whispering—more + head-shaking. What was it all about? Had anything happened? What had + happened? No one wishes to be the first to speak. But the suspense! The + strain upon the nerves of the two ladies! At last it can be borne no + longer. The dreadful revelation is made. The King is a madman! + </p> + <p> + At dinner, the Prince of Wales being present, His Majesty had “broken + forth into positive delirium, which long had been menacing all who saw him + most closely; and the Queen was so overpowered as to fall into violent + hysterics. All the princesses were in misery, and the Prince of Wales had + burst into tears. No one knew what was to follow—no one could + conjecture the event.” Nothing could be more pathetic than the concern of + the King for his wife. His delusion is that she is the sufferer. When + Fanny Burney went to her room, where she was accustomed to await her + nightly summons to attend Her Majesty, she remained there alone for two + hours. At midnight she can stand the suspense no longer. She opens the + door and listens in the passage. Not a sound is to be heard. Not even a + servant crossed the stairs on the corridor off which her apartment opened. + After another hour's suspense a page knocks at her door with the message + that she is to go at once to her Royal mistress. + </p> + <p> + “My poor Royal Mistress!” she writes. “Never can I forget her countenance—pale, + ghastly pale she looked... her whole frame was disordered, yet she was + still and quiet. And the poor King is dreadfully uneasy about her. Nothing + was the matter with himself, he affirmed, except nervousness on her + account. He insisted on having a bed made up for himself in her + dressing-room in order that he might be at hand should she become worse + through the night. He had given orders that Miss Goldsworthy was to remain + with her; but it seemed that he had no great confidence in the vigilance + of any one but himself, for some hours after the Queen had retired he + appeared before the eyes of the horrified lady-in-waiting, at the door, + bearing a lighted candle. He opened the bed curtains and satisfied himself + that his dread of her being carried out of the palace was unfounded; but + he did not leave the room for another half-hour, and the terror of the + scene completely overwhelmed the unhappy lady.” + </p> + <p> + Truly when this terror was walking by night Fanny Burney's stipend was + well earned. But worse was in store for her when it was decided that the + King should be removed to Kew Palace, which he detested and which was + certainly the most miserable of all the miserable dwelling-places of the + Royal Family. It seemed to be nobody's business to make any preparation + for the reception of the Queen and her entourage. The rooms were dirty and + unwarmed, and the corridors were freezing. And to the horrors of this + damp, unsavoury barrack was added Mrs. Schwellenberg, the German + she-dragon who had done her best to make Fanny Burney's life unendurable + during the previous three years. Formerly Fanny had dwelt upon the + ill-treatment she had received at the hands of this old harridan; but now + she only refers to her as an additional element of casual discomfort. The + odious creature is “so oppressed between her spasms and the house's + horrors, that the oppression she inflicted ought perhaps to be pardoned. + It was, however, difficult enough to bear,” she adds. “Harshness, tyranny, + dissension, and even insult seemed personified. I cut short details upon + this subject—they would but make you sick.” + </p> + <p> + Truly little Miss Burney earned her wages at this time. The dilapidated + palace was only rendered habitable by the importation of a cartload of + sandbags, which were as strategically distributed for the exclusion of the + draughts as if they were the usual defensive supply of a siege. But even + this ingenious device failed to neutralise the Arctic rigours of the + place. The providing of carpets for some of the bare floors of the + bedrooms and passages was a startling innovation; but eventually it was + carried out. An occasional set of curtains also was smuggled into this + frozen fairy palace, and a sofa came now and again. + </p> + <p> + But in spite of all these auxiliaries to luxury—in spite, too, of + Mrs. Schwellenberg's having locked herself into her room, forbidding any + one to disturb her—the dreariness and desolation of the December at + Kew must have caused Miss Burney to think with longing of the comforts of + her father's home in St. Martin's Street and of the congenial atmosphere + which she breathed during her numerous visits to the Thrales' solid + mansion at Streatham. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0035.jpg" alt="0035 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0035.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + The condition of the King was becoming worse, and early whispers of the + necessity for a Regency grew louder. It was understood that Mrs. + Fitzherbert would be made a duchess! Everybody outside the palace sought + to stand well in the estimation of the Prince of Wales, and Pitt was + pointed out as a traitor to his country because he did his best to + postpone the Comus orgy which every one knew would follow the establishing + of a Regency. The appointment of the Doctors Willis was actually referred + to as a shocking impiety, suggesting as it did a wicked rebellion against + the decree of the Almighty, Who, according to Burke, had hurled the + monarch from his throne. There were, however, some who did not regard Mr. + Burke as an infallible judge on such a point, and no one was more + indignant at the mouthings of the rhetorician than Miss Burney. But it + seemed as if the approach of the Regency could no longer be retarded. The + Willises were unable to certify to any improvement in the condition of the + King during the month of January, 1789. It was really not until he had + that chase after Fanny Burney in Kew Gardens that a change for the better + came about. + </p> + <p> + Though she was greatly terrified by his affectionate salutation, she could + not but have been surprised at the sanity displayed in the monologue that + followed; for one of the first of his innumerable questions revealed to + her the fact that he was perfectly well aware of what a trial to her + patience was the odious Mrs. Schwellenberg. He asked how she was getting + on with Mrs. Schwellenberg, and he did so with a laugh that showed her how + well he appreciated her difficulties in this direction in the past. Before + she could say a word he was making light of the Schwellenberg—adopting + exactly the strain that he knew would be most effective with Miss Burney. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind her—never mind her! Don't be oppressed! I am your + friend! Don't let her cast you down—I know that you have a hard time + of it—but don't mind her!” + </p> + <p> + The advice and the tone in which it was given—with a pleasant laugh—did + not seem very consistent with what she expected from a madman. Fanny + Burney appears up to that moment to have been under the impression that + the King and Queen had known nothing of the tyranny and the insults to + which she had been subjected by Mrs. Schwellenberg. But now it was made + plain to her that the eyes of the Royal couple had been open all the time. + If Macaulay had noticed the passage touching upon this point he would have + had still stronger grounds for his attack upon their Majesties for their + want of consideration for the tire-woman who was supposed never to be + tired. + </p> + <p> + But how much more surprised must Fanny Burney have been when the King went + on to talk to her in the most cordially confidential way about her father! + It must have been another revelation to her when he showed how fully he + realised the ambitions of Dr. Burney. He asked her regarding the progress + of the <i>History of Music</i>, at which Dr. Burney had been engaged for + several years, and this gave him a chance of getting upon his favourite + topic, the music of Handel. But when he began to illustrate some of his + impressions on this fruitful theme by singing over the choruses of an + oratorio or two—perhaps such trifles as “All we like Sheep,” or + “Lift up your Heads,” or the “Hallelujah”—he must have gone far + toward neutralising the good opinion she had formed as to his sanity. + Fortunately the attendant doctors interposed at this point; but the fact + that the distinguished amateur suffered their adverse criticism proves to + posterity that the King was even more good-natured than he had been + painted by Miss Burney. + </p> + <p> + On then he went to talk of the subject which must never have been far from + Dr. Burney's heart—the Mastership of the King's Band: “Your father + ought to have had the post, and not that little poor musician Parsons, who + was not fit for it,” he cried. “But Lord Salisbury used your father very + ill in that business, and so he did me! However, I have dashed out his + name, and I shall put your father's in—as soon as I get loose again. + What has your father got at last? Nothing but that poor thing at Chelsea! + Oh, fie! fie! But never mind! I will take care of him—I will do it + myself!” + </p> + <p> + Could he have given the devoted daughter of Dr. Burney a more emphatic + proof of his complete recovery to sanity than this? Why, it would have + convinced Dr. Burney himself! + </p> + <p> + Alas! although the King may have been very resolute at the moment—he + had just been making out a list of new officers of State, and was ready to + show her that the name of her father's enemy, Lord Salisbury, was not to + be found in it, and he assured her that in future he would rule with a rod + of iron—yet before he returned to his ordinary way of life he must + have mislaid his list, for poor Dr. Burney remained at his post of + organist of Chelsea Hospital. He never attained to the place which he + coveted and for which his daughter was sent to five years' Royal + servitude, and (incidentally) to achieve for herself that immortality as a + chronicler which would certainly never have been won by her as a novelist. + </p> + <p> + But the King did not confine his conversation to the one topic which he + knew was of greatest interest to her. He spoke of Mrs. Delany, who had + been the means of introducing Fanny to the Royal circle; and he referred + to the ill-treatment which he had received at the hands of one of his + pages; but this was the only passage that savoured of unkindness, and the + chronicler is unable to do more than hope that the conduct of the pages + was one of His Majesty's delusions. Then, with what seems to us to be + consummate adroitness, he put some questions to her which she could not + but answer. “They referred to information given to him in his illness from + various motives, but which he suspected to be false, and which I knew he + had reason to suspect,” Miss Burney writes. “Yet was it most dangerous to + set anything right, as I was not aware what might be the views of their + having been stated wrong. I was as discreet as I knew how to be, and I + hope I did no mischief: but this was the worst part of the dialogue.” + </p> + <p> + We can quite believe that it was, and considering that it was the part of + the dialogue which was most interesting to the King, we think that Miss + Burney was to be congratulated upon the tact she displayed in her answers. + She did not cause the King to be more perturbed than he was when waxing + indignant over the conduct of his pages; and there was no need for Dr. + Willis to interfere at this point, though he did a little later on. Then + submitting with the utmost docility to the control of his excellent + attendant, and with another exhortation not to pay any attention to the + whims of the Schwellenberg, the gracious gentleman kissed her once more on + the cheek and allowed her to take her departure. + </p> + <p> + So ended this remarkable adventure in Kew Gardens. One can picture Fanny + Burney flying to tell the Queen all that had occurred—to repeat + everything that her discretion permitted her of the conversation; and one + has no difficulty in imagining the effect upon Queen Charlotte of all that + she narrated; but it seems rather hard that from Mrs. Schwellenberg should + have been withheld the excellent advice given by the King to Miss Burney + respecting the German virago. + </p> + <p> + It would have been impossible either for Fanny Burney or the Queen to come + to any conclusion from all that happened except one that was entirely + satisfactory to both. King George III was undoubtedly on the high road to + recovery, and subsequent events confirmed this opinion. It really seemed + that the interview with the author of <i>Evelina</i> marked the + turning-point in his malady at this time. Every day brought its record of + improvement, and within a fortnight the dreaded Regency Bill, which had + been sent up to the Lords, was abandoned. On March 1st there were public + thanksgivings in all the churches, followed by such an illumination of + London as had not been seen since the great fire. The scene at Kew is + admirably described by Miss Burney, who had written some congratulatory + lines to be offered by the Princess Amelia to the King. A great + “transparency” had been painted by the Queen's order, representing the + King, Providence, Health, and Britannia—a truly British tableau—and + when this was hung out and illuminated the little Princess “went to lead + her papa to the front window.” Then she dropped on her knees and gave him + the “copy of verses,” with the postscript: + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="indent20"> + The little bearer begs a kiss + </p> + <p class="indent20"> + From dear papa for bringing this. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + The “dear papa” took his dear child in his arms, and held her close to him + for some time. Nothing could have been more charmingly natural and + affecting. For such a picture of Royalty at home we are indebted to Fanny + Burney, and, face to face with it, we are selfish enough to feel grateful + to Dr. Burney for having given his daughter for five years to discharge a + humble duty to her Sovereign and an immortal one to her fellow-countrymen, + who have read her Diary and placed it on a shelf between Pepys and de + Gramont. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A COMEDY IN ST. MARTIN'S STREET + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>R BURNEY was + giving a “command” party at his house in St. Martin's Street, Leicester + Fields—the house which Sir Isaac Newton did once inhabit, and which + was still crowned with the most celebrated observatory in Europe. In the + early years of his musical career he had had a patron, Mr. Fulk Greville, + who had done a great deal for him, and in later days he had never quite + forgotten this fact, although Dr. Burney had climbed high on the + professional as well as the social ladder, and was better known in the + world than Mr. Greville himself. He had become quite intimate with many + great persons and several curious ones. It is uncertain whether Mr. + Greville regarded Dr. Johnson as belonging to the former or the latter + class, but at any rate he had heard a great deal about Dr. Johnson, and + did not think that, provided he took every reasonable precaution, any harm + could come to himself from meeting such a notability. He accordingly + instructed Dr. Burney to bring him and Johnson together, and Burney + promised to do so. Before the day for this meeting was fixed Mrs. Greville—who, + by the way, was Fanny Burney's godmother—had signified her intention + of viewing the huge person also, and of bringing her daughter, the + exquisite Mrs. Crewe, to attend the promised exhibition of genius in bulk. + </p> + <p> + Of course Dr. Johnson was ready to lend himself to any plan that might be + devised to increase the circumference of his circle of admirers, and + besides, this Mr. Fulk Greville was a descendant of the friend of Sir + Philip Sidney, and had large possessions, as well as a magnificent country + seat, and altogether he would make a most desirable listener; so he agreed + to come to the party to be inspected by the Greville family. Burney, + however, wishing, as every responsible proprietor of a menagerie should + wish, to be on the safe side and exhibit his bear under the eye and the + controlling influence of his favourite keeper, invited Mr. and Mrs. Thrale + to the party. + </p> + <p> + These were to be the “principals” in the comedy of this entertainment; and + for the subordinates he selected his married daughter and her husband—both + admirable musicians—Mr. Davenant, Mr. Seward, and a certain Italian + musician, a vocalist as well as a performer on the violin and that new + instrument which was at first called the fortepiano, then the pianoforte, + and later on simply the piano. This person's name was Gabrielli Piozzi. + </p> + <p> + Such were the harmonious elements which Dr. Burney proposed to bring + together for the gratification of Mr. Fulk Greville and his wife. Mr. + Greville was an amateur of some little capacity, and he had certainly at + one time been greatly interested in music. He had paid £300 to Burney's + master, the celebrated Dr. Arne, who composed in the masque of “Alfred” + the rousing anthem known as “Rule Britannia,” for the cancelling of + Burney's indentures as an apprentice to the “art of musick,” and had taken + the young man into his own house in a capacity which may best be described + as that of entertaining secretary. Dr. Burney may therefore have thought + in his wisdom that, should Johnson be in one of his bearish moods and feel + disinclined to exhibit his parts of speech to Mr. Greville, the latter + would be certain of entertainment from the musicians. This showed + forethought and a good working knowledge of Dr. Johnson. But in spite of + the second string to the musician's bow the party was a fiasco—that + is, from the standpoint of a social entertainment; it included one + incident, however, which made it the most notable of the many of the + Burney parties of which a record remains. + </p> + <p> + And what records there are available to any one interested in the + entertainments given by Dr. Burney and his charming family at that modest + house of theirs, just round the corner from Sir Joshua Reynolds' larger + establishment in Leicester Fields! Hundreds of people who contributed to + make the second half of the eighteenth century the most notable of any + period so far as literature and the arts were concerned, since the + spacious days of Elizabeth, were accustomed to meet together informally at + this house, and to have their visits recorded for all ages to muse upon. + To that house came Garrick, not to exhibit his brilliance as a talker + before a crowd of admirers, but to entertain the children of the household + with the buffooning that never flagged, and that never fell short of + genius in any exhibition. He was the delight of the schoolroom. Edmund + Burke and his brother, both fond of conversation when oratory was not + available, were frequently here; Reynolds came with many of his sitters, + and found fresh faces for his canvas among his fellow-guests; and with him + came his maiden sister, feeling herself more at home with the simple + Burney circle than she ever did with the company who assembled almost + daily under her brother's roof. Nollekens, the sculptor; Colman, the + dramatist and theatre manager, who was obliged to run away from London to + escape the gibes which were flung at him from every quarter when + Goldsmith's <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i>, which he had done his best to + make a failure, became the greatest success of the year; Cumberland, the + embittered rival of Goldsmith, who was the person who gave the solitary + hiss during the first performance of the same play, causing the timid + author to say to the manager on entering the playhouse, “What is that, sir—pray, + what is that? Is it a hiss?” To which Colman replied, “Psha! sir, what + signifies a squib when we have been sitting on a barrel of gunpowder all + night?” + </p> + <p> + These were among the notabilities; and the “curiosities” were quite as + numerous. The earliest of Arctic voyagers, Sir Constantine Phipps, who + later became Lord Mulgrave, put in an appearance at more than one of the + parties; and so did Omai, the “gentle savage” of the poet Cowper, who was + brought by Captain Cook from the South Seas in the ship on which young + Burney was an officer. The sisters, who, of course, idolised the sailor, + sat open-mouthed with wonder to hear their brother chatting away to Omai + in his native language. Upon another occasion came Bruce, the Abyssinian + traveller, who told the story of how steaks were cut from the live ox when + needed by the inhabitants of one region. He was immensely tall, as were + some of his stories; but though extremely dignified, he did not object to + a practical joke. Another person of great stature who visited the Burneys + was the notorious Count Orloff, the favourite of the Empress Catherine of + Russia; and from the letters of one of the young people of the household + one has no difficulty in perceiving with what interest he was regarded by + the girls, especially since the report reached them that he had personally + strangled his imperial master at the instigation of his imperial mistress. + </p> + <p> + These are but, a few names out of the many on the Burneys' visiting list. + Of course, as regards musical artists, the house was the rendezvous of the + greatest in London. While the opera-house in the Haymarket was open there + was a constant flow of brilliant vocalists to these shores, and the young + people had many opportunities of becoming acquainted with the ignorance, + the capriciousness, the affectations, and the abilities which were to be + found associated with the lyric stage in the eighteenth century, as they + are in the twentieth. Among the prime donne who sang for the Burneys were + the Agujari—a marvellous performer, who got fifty pounds for every + song she sang at the Pantheon—and her great but uncertain rival, + Gabrielli. The former, according to Mozart, who may possibly be allowed to + be something of a judge, had a vocal range which was certainly never + equalled by any singer before or after his time. She won all hearts and a + great deal of money during her visit to London, and she left with the + reputation of being the most marvellous and most rapacious of Italians. + Gabrielli seems to have tried to make up by capriciousness what she lacked + in expression. Her voice was, so far as can be gathered from contemporary + accounts, small and thin. But by judiciously disappointing the public she + became the most widely talked of vocalist in the country. Then among the + men were the simple and gracious Pacchierotti—who undoubtedly became + attached to Fanny Burney—Rauzzini, and Piozzi. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0049.jpg" alt="0049 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0049.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + The Burneys' house was for years the centre of the highest intellectual + entertainment to be found in London, and the tact of the head of the + household, and the simple, natural manners of his daughters, usually + succeeded in preventing the intrusion of a single inharmonious note, in + spite of the fact that a Welsh harpist named Jones had once been among the + visitors. + </p> + <p> + But upon the occasion of this “command” party, when Greville was to meet + Johnson, and the latter had dressed himself with that extreme care which + we suspect meant that he tied up his hose, and put on a wig the front of + which had not yet been burnt away by coming in contact with his lighted + candle, Burney's tact overreached itself. Mr. Greville may have felt that + the Thrales had no business to be of the party, or Johnson may have gained + the impression that Burney's old patron was anxious to play the same part, + in an honorary sort of way, in regard to himself. At any rate, he refused + to be drawn out to exhibit his conversational powers to a supercilious + visitor; and after a brief space of time he turned his back upon every one + and his face to the fire, and there he sat, greatly to the discomfiture, + no doubt, of his host. In a very short time a gloom settled down upon the + whole party. Mr. Thrale, stiff and reserved, was not the man to pull + things together. He sat mute on his chair, making no advance toward Mr. + Greville, and Mr. Greville had probably his chin in the air, having come + to the conclusion that Dr. Johnson's powers as a conversationalist had + been greatly overrated by rumour. + </p> + <p> + It was when all hope of sociability had vanished that Dr. Burney, who, + when a church organist, may have had occasion to cover up the shortcomings + of the clergyman by a timely voluntary, begged Signor Piozzi to oblige the + company with a song. But Piozzi was a forlorn hope. He was the last man in + the world to save the situation. Had he been a vocalist of the calibre of + Pacchierotti he could have made no headway against the funereal gloom that + had settled down upon the party. + </p> + <p> + Piozzi had a sweet and highly trained voice, though some years earlier he + had lost its best notes, and he sang with exquisite expression; but when + playing his own accompaniment, with his back turned to his audience, he + was prone to exaggerate the sentiment of the music until sentiment became + lost in an exuberance of sentimentality. + </p> + <p> + This style of singing is not that to which any one would resort in order + to dissipate a sudden social gloom. As the singer went on the gloom + deepened. + </p> + <p> + It was just at this moment that one of those ironic little imps that lurk + in wainscot nooks looking out for an opportunity to influence an + unconscious human being to an act which the little demon, seeing the end + of a scene of which mortals only see the beginning, regards with sardonic + glee, whispered something in the ear of Mrs. Thrale, and in an instant, in + obedience to its prompting, she had left her chair and stolen behind the + singer at the piano. Raising her hands and turning up her eyes in + imitation of Piozzi, she indulged in a piece of mimicry which must have + shocked every one in the room except the singer, who had his back to her, + and Dr. Johnson, who, besides being too short-sighted to be able to see + her, was gazing into the grate. + </p> + <p> + No doubt the flippant little lady felt that a touch of farcical fun was + the very thing needed to make the party go with a snap; but such flagrant + bad taste as was involved in the transaction was more than Dr. Burney + could stand. Keeping his temper marvellously well in hand, considering his + provocation, he went gently behind the gesticulating woman and put a stop + to her fooling. Shaking his head, he whispered in a “half joke whole + earnest” way: + </p> + <p> + “Because, madam, you have no ear yourself for music, will you destroy the + attention of all who, in that one point, are otherwise gifted?” + </p> + <p> + Or words to that effect, it might be safe to add, for the phrases as + recorded in the diary of one of his daughters are a trifle too academic + for even Dr. Burney to have whispered on the spur of the moment. But he + certainly reproved the lady, and she took his remonstrance in good part, + and showed herself to be admirably appreciative of the exact pose to + assume in order to save the situation. She went demurely to her chair and + sat there stiffly, and with the affectation of a schoolgirl who has been + admonished for a fault and commanded to take a seat in silence and apart + from the rest of the class. It must be apparent to every one that this was + the precise attitude for her to strike in the circumstances, and that she + was able to perceive this in a rather embarrassing moment shows that Mrs. + Thrale was quite as clever as her friends made her out to be. + </p> + <p> + But regarding the incident itself, surely the phrase, “the irony of fate,” + was invented to describe it. A better illustration of the sport of + circumstance could not be devised, for in the course of time the lively + little lady, who had gone as far as any one could go in making a mock of + another, had fallen as deep in love with the man whom she mocked as ever + Juliet did with her Romeo. She found that she could not live without him, + and, sacrificing friends, position, and fortune, she threw herself into + his arms, and lived happy ever after. + </p> + <p> + The conclusion of the first scene in this saturnine comedy which was being + enacted in the drawing-room in that house in St. Martin's Street, was in + perfect keeping with the <i>mise-en-scène</i> constructed by Fate, taking + the rôle of Puck. It is admirably described in the diary of Charlotte + Burney. She wrote that Mr. Greville—whom she nicknamed “Mr. Gruel”—assumed + “his most supercilious air of distant superiority” and “planted himself + immovable as a noble statue upon the hearth, as if a stranger to the whole + set.” + </p> + <p> + By this time Dr. Johnson must have had enough of the fire at which he had + been sitting, and we at once see how utterly hopeless were the social + relations at this miserable party when we hear that the men “were so kind + and considerate as to divert themselves by making a fire-screen to the + whole room.” But Dr. Johnson, having thoroughly warmed himself, was now in + a position to administer a rebuke to the less fortunate ones, and, when + nobody would have imagined that he had known the gentlemen were in the + room, he said that “if he was not ashamed he would keep the fire from the + ladies too.” + </p> + <p> + “This reproof (for a reproof it certainly was, although given in a very + comical, dry way) was productive,” Charlotte adds, “of a scene as good as + a comedy, for Mr. Suard tumbled on to a sopha directly, Mr. Thrale on to a + chair, Mr. Davenant sneaked off the premises, seemingly in as great a + fright and as much confounded as if he had done any bad action, and Mr. + Gruel being left solus, was obliged to stalk off.” + </p> + <p> + A more perfect description of the “curtain” to the first act of this, “as + good as a comedy,” could not be imagined. In every scene of this memorable + evening the mocking figure of an impish Fate can be discerned. There was + the tactful and urbane Dr. Burney anxious to gratify his old patron by + presenting to him the great Dr. Johnson, and at the same time to show on + what excellent terms he himself was with the family of the wealthy brewer, + Mr. Thrale. Incidentally he has caused Johnson to put himself to the + inconvenience of a clean shirt and a respectable wig; and, like a + thoughtful general, lest any of his plans should fall short of fulfilment, + he has invited an interesting vocalist to cover up the retreat and make + failure almost impossible! + </p> + <p> + Dr. Burney could do wonders by the aid of his tact and urbanity, but he is + no match for Fate playing the part of Puck. Within an hour Johnson has + disappointed him and become grumpy—the old bear has found the buns + to be stale; Mr. Greville, the patron, is in a patronising mood, and + becomes stiff and aloof because Johnson, secure with his pension, resents + it; Mrs. Thrale, anxious to do her best for Burney, and at the same time + to show Mrs. Greville and her fine daughter how thoroughly at home she is + in the house and how delicate is her sense of humour, strikes an + appallingly false note, and only saves herself by a touch of cleverness + from appearing wholly ridiculous. This is pretty well for the opening + scenes, but the closing catastrophe is not long delayed. The men huddle + themselves together in stony silence; and they are reproved for + impoliteness by—whom? Dr. Johnson, the man who has studied + boorishness and advanced it to a place among the arts—the man who + calls those who differ from him dolts and fools and rascals—the man + whose manners at the dinner table are those of the sty and trough—the + man who walks about the streets ungartered and unclean—this is the + man who has the effrontery to rebuke for their rudeness such gentlemen as + Mr. Fulk Greville, Mr. Seward, and Mr. Thrale! Puck can go no further. + Down comes the curtain when one gentleman collapses upon a “sopha,” + another into a chair, a third sneaks off like a culprit, and the fourth + stalks off with an air of offended dignity! + </p> + <p> + It might be thought that the imp of mischief who had assumed the control + of this evening's entertainment would be satisfied at the result of his + pranks so far. Nothing of the sort. He was only satisfied when he had made + a match between the insignificant figure who was playing the musical + accompaniment to his pranks and the lady who thought that his presence in + the room was only justifiable on the ground that he made an excellent butt + for her mockery! + </p> + <p> + And the funniest part of the whole comedy is to be found in the fact that + the pair lived happy ever after! + </p> + <p> + The extraordinary influence which Boswell has had upon almost every + student of the life of the latter half of the eighteenth century is shown + in a marked way by the general acceptance of his view—which it is + scarcely necessary to say was Johnson's view—of the second marriage + of Mrs. Thrale. We are treating Boswell much more fairly than he treated + Mrs. Thrale when we acknowledge at once that his opinion was shared by a + considerable number of the lady's friends, including Dr. Burney and his + family. They were all shocked when they heard that the widow of the + Southwark brewer had married the Italian musician, Signor Gabrielli + Piozzi. Even in the present day, when one might reasonably expect that, + the miserable pettiness of Boswell's character having been made apparent, + his judgment on most points would be received with a smile, he is taken + very seriously by a good many people. It has long ago been made plain that + Boswell was quite unscrupulous in his treatment of every one that crossed + his path or made an attempt to interfere with the aim of his life, which + was to become the biographer of Johnson. The instances of his petty + malevolence which have come to light within recent years are innumerable. + They show that the opinion which his contemporaries formed of him was + absolutely correct. We know that he was regarded as a cur who was ever at + Johnson's heels, and took the insults of the great man with a fawning + complacency that was pathetically canine. He was daily called a cur. “Oh, + no,” said Goldsmith, “he is not a cur, only a burr; Tom Davies flung him + at Johnson one day as a joke, and he stuck to him ever since”—a cur, + and an ape and a spy and a Branghton—the last by Dr. Johnson himself + in the presence of a large company, that included the creator of the + contemptible Mr. Branghton. (The incident was not, however, recorded by + Mr. Boswell himself.) But as the extraordinary interest in his <i>Life of + Johnson</i> began to be acknowledged, the force of contemporary opinion + gradually dwindled away, until Boswell's verdicts and Boswell's inferences + found general acceptance; and even now Goldsmith is regarded as an Irish + <i>omadhaum</i>, because Boswell did his best to make him out to be one, + and Mrs. Thrale is thought to have forfeited her claims to respect because + she married Signor Piozzi. + </p> + <p> + People forget the origin of Boswell's malevolence in both cases. He + detested Goldsmith because Goldsmith was a great writer, who was capable + of writing a great biography of Johnson, with whom he had been on the most + intimate terms long before Tom Davies flung his burr at Johnson; he hated + Baretti and recorded—at the sacrifice of Johnson's reputation for + humanity—Johnson's cynical belittling of him, because he feared that + Baretti would write <i>the</i> biography; he was spiteful in regard to + Mrs. Thrale because she actually did write something biographical about + Johnson. + </p> + <p> + The impudence of such a man as Boswell writing about “honest Dr. + Goldsmith” is only surpassed by his allusions to the second marriage of + Mrs. Thrale. He was a fellow-guest with Johnson at the Thrales' house in + 1775, and he records something of a conversation which he says occurred on + the subject of a woman's marrying some one greatly beneath her socially. + “When I recapitulate the debate,” he says, “and recollect what has since + happened, I cannot but be struck in a manner that delicacy forbids me to + express! While I contended that she ought to be treated with inflexible + steadiness of displeasure, Mrs. Thrale was all for mildness and + forgiveness and, according to the vulgar phrase, making the best of a bad + bargain.” This was published after the second marriage. What would be + thought of a modern biographer who should borrow a little of Boswell's + “delicacy,” and refer to a similar incident in the same style? + </p> + <p> + In his own inimitable small way Boswell was for ever sneering at Mrs. + Thrale. Sometimes he did it with that scrupulous delicacy of which an + example has just been given; but he called her a liar more than once with + considerable indelicacy, and his readers will without much trouble come to + the conclusion that his indelicacy was preferable to his delicacy—it + certainly came more natural to him. He was small and mean in all his ways, + and never smaller or meaner than in his references to Mrs. Thrale's second + marriage. + </p> + <p> + But, it must be repeated, he did not stand alone in regarding her union + with Piozzi as a <i>mésalliance</i>. Dr. Burney was shocked at the thought + that any respectable woman would so far forget herself as to marry a + musician, and his daughter Fanny wept remorseful tears when she reflected + that she had once been the friend of a lady who did not shrink from + marrying a foreigner and a Roman Catholic—more of the irony of Fate, + for Fanny Burney was herself guilty of the same indiscretion later on: she + made a happy marriage with a Roman Catholic foreigner, who lived on her + pension and her earnings. Dr. Johnson was brutal when the conviction was + forced upon him that he would no longer have an opportunity of insulting a + lady who had treated him with incredible kindness, or the guests whom he + met at her table. Upon one of the last occasions of his dining at Mrs. + Thrale's house at Streatham, a gentleman present—an inoffensive + Quaker—ventured to make a remark respecting the accuracy with which + the red-hot cannon-balls were fired at the Siege of Gibraltar. Johnson + listened for some time, and then with a cold sneer said, “I would advise + you, sir, never to relate this story again. You really can scarce imagine + how very poor a figure you make in the telling of it.” Later on he took + credit to himself for not quarrelling with his victim when the latter + chose to talk to his brother rather than to the man who had insulted him. + Yes, it can quite easily be understood that Johnson should look on the + marriage as a sad <i>mésalliance</i>, and possibly it is fair to assume + from the letter which he wrote to the lady that he felt hurt when he heard + that it was to take place. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Thrale wrote to tell him that she meant to marry Piozzi, and received + the following reply: + </p> + <p> + “Madam,—If I interpret your letter right, you are ignominiously + married; if it is yet undone, let us once more talk together. If you have + abandoned your children and your religion, God forgive your wickedness; if + you have forfeited your fame and your country, may your folly do no + further mischief!” + </p> + <p> + Possibly the lady may have gathered from the hint or two conveyed to her, + with Boswellian delicacy, in this letter, that Johnson was displeased with + her. At any rate, she replied, declining to continue the correspondence. + </p> + <p> + In her letter she summed up the situation exactly as a reasonable person, + acquainted with all the facts, and knowing something of the first husband, + would do. + </p> + <p> + “The birth of my second husband is not meaner than that of my first,” she + wrote; “his sentiments are not meaner; his profession is not meaner; and + his superiority in what he professes acknowledged by all mankind. It is + want of fortune, then, that is ignominious; the character of the man I + have chosen has no other claim to such an epithet. The religion to which + he has always been a zealous adherent, will, I hope, teach him to forgive + insults he has not deserved; mine will, I hope, enable [me] to bear them + at once with dignity and patience. To hear that I have forfeited my fame + is indeed the greatest insult I ever yet received. My fame is as unsullied + as snow, or I should think it unworthy of him who must henceforth protect + it.” + </p> + <p> + This brought the surly burly mass of offended dignity to his proper level; + but still he would not offer the lady who had been his benefactress for + twenty years an apology for his brutality. He had the presumption to offer + his advice instead—advice and the story (highly appropriate from his + point of view) of Mary Queen of Scots and the Archbishop of St. Andrews. + He advised her to remain in England—he would not relinquish his room + in her house and his place at her table without a struggle—as her + rank would be higher in England than in Italy, and her fortune would be + under her own eye. The latter suggestion was a delicate insult to Piozzi. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Piozzi, as she then became, showed that she esteemed this piece of + presumption, under the guise of advice, at its true value. Immediately + after her marriage she went abroad with her husband, though eventually she + settled with him in England. + </p> + <p> + Now, most modern readers will, we think, when they have become acquainted + with the whole story of Mrs. Thrale's life, arrive at the conclusion that + it was her first marriage that was the <i>mésalliance</i>, not her second. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0065.jpg" alt="0065 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0065.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + Henry Thrale was a man of humble origin—a fact that revealed itself + almost daily in his life—and he was incapable of loving any one + except himself. He certainly never made a pretence of devotion to his + wife, and it is equally certain that, although she did more for him than + any other woman would have done, she never loved him. It might be going + too far, considering the diversity of temperament existing among + womankind, to assert that he was incapable of being loved by any woman; + but beyond a doubt he was not a lovable man. He was a stiff, dignified, + morose, uncongenial man, and he was a Member of Parliament into the + bargain. What could a pretty, lively, brilliant girl of good family see in + such a man as Thrale to make her love him? She never did love him—at + times she must have detested him. But she married him, and it was a lucky + day for him that she did so. Twice she saved him from bankruptcy, and + three times she induced his constituents, who thoroughly hated him, to + return him to Parliament as their representative. He never did anything in + Parliament, and he did little out of it that was worth remembering. It is + customary to make large allowances for a man of business who finds that + his wealth and a charming wife serve as a passport into what is called + society, though latterly such men do not stand in need of such a favour + being shown to them. But if a man betrays his ignorance of certain social + usages—not necessarily refinements—his friends excuse him on + the ground that he is a first-rate business man. Thrale, however, was + unworthy of such a title. He inherited a great scientific business, but he + showed himself so incapable of appreciating the methods by which it had + been built up, that he brought himself within a week or two of absolute + ruin by listening to a clumsy adventurer who advocated the adoption of a + system of adulteration of his beer that even a hundred and fifty years ago + would have brought him within sight of a criminal prosecution. + </p> + <p> + His literary wife, by her clever management, aided by the money of her + mother and of sundry of her own, not her husband's, friends, succeeded in + staving off the threatened disaster. But the pig-headed man did not accept + the lesson which one might imagine he would have learned. Seeing the + success that crowned other enterprises of the same character as his own, + he endeavoured to emulate this success, not by the legitimate way of + increasing his customers, but by the idiotic plan of over-production. He + had an idea that in the multiplying of the article which he had to sell he + was increasing his business. Once again he was helped from the verge of + ruin by his literary wife. + </p> + <p> + He must have been a dreadful trial to her, and to a far-seeing manager + whom he had—a man named Perkins. Of course it was inevitable that + the force of character possessed by this Mr. Perkins must eventually + prevail against the dignified incompetence of the proprietor. The + inevitable happened, and the name of Perkins has for more than a hundred + years been bracketed with Barclay as a going concern, while the name of + Thrale has vanished for ever from “the Borough.” + </p> + <p> + It was this Mr. Perkins who, when the brewery was within five minutes of + absolute disaster, displayed the tactics of a great general in the face of + an implacable enemy, and saved the property. As a reward for his services + his master authorised the presentation to him of the sum of a hundred + pounds. His master's wife, however, being a more generous assessor of the + value of the man's ability, ventured to present double the sum, together + with a silver tea-service for Mrs. Perkins; but she did so in fear and + trembling, failing to summon up sufficient courage to acquaint her husband + with her extravagance until further concealment was impossible. She was so + overjoyed at his sanctioning the increase that she at once wrote to her + friends acquainting them with this evidence of his generosity. + </p> + <p> + This episode was certainly the most stirring in the history of Thrale's + brewery. The Gordon rioters had been terrorising London for several days, + burning houses in every direction, as well as Newgate and another prison, + and looting street after street. They had already overthrown one brewery, + and they found the incident so fascinating that they marched across the + bridge to the Southwark concern, raising the cry that Thrale was a Papist. + The Thrales were at this time sojourning at Bath, and were in an agony of + suspense regarding their property. They had left Dr. Johnson comfortably + ensconced at their Streatham house in order that they might learn in + dignified language how things were going on. + </p> + <p> + This is Johnson's thrilling account of the incident: + </p> + <p> + “What has happened to your house you all know. The harm is only a few + butts of beer, and I think you may be sure that the danger is over. Pray + tell Mr. Thrale that I live here, and have no fruit, and if he does not + interpose am not likely to have much; but I think he might as well give me + a little as give all to the gardener.” + </p> + <p> + There was a double catastrophe threatening, it would appear: the burning + of the brewery and the shortage in the supply of Dr. Johnson's peaches. + </p> + <p> + This is how Mrs. Thrale describes the situation: + </p> + <p> + “Nothing but the astonishing presence of mind shewed by Perkins in amusing + the mob, with meat and drink and huzzas, till Sir Philip Jennings Clerke + could get the troops, and pack up the counting-house, bills, bonds etc. + and carry them, which he did, to Chelsea College for safety, could have + saved us from actual undoing. The villains <i>had</i> broke in, and our + brew-house would have blazed in ten minutes, when a property of £150,000 + would have been utterly lost, and its once flourishing possessors quite + undone.” + </p> + <p> + It seems almost incredible that Johnson, living at Streatham as the + guardian of Mr. Thrale's interests, should require the lady to write to + him, begging him to thank Perkins for his heroism. But so it was. + </p> + <p> + “Perkins has behaved like an Emperor,” she wrote, “and it is my earnest + wish and desire—command, if you please to call it so—that you + will go over to the brew-house and express <i>your</i> sense of his good + behaviour.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Thrale was unreasonable. How could Johnson be expected to take any + action when he was deprived of his peaches? + </p> + <p> + It will strike a good many modern readers of the account of this and other + transactions that if it was Perkins who saved the brewery for Mr. Thrale, + it was Mrs. Thrale who saved Perkins for the brewery. Possibly it was her + prompt gift of the silver plate to Mrs. Perkins that induced this splendid + manager to pocket the insult of the beggarly two hundred guineas given to + him by Mrs. Thrale—though this was double the amount authorised by + the “master.” Thrale never sufficiently valued the services of Perkins. If + he had had any gratitude in his composition he would never have made + Johnson one of his executors. What a trial it must have been to the + competent man of business to see Johnson lumbering about the place with a + pen behind his ear and an ink-pot suspended from a button of his coat, + getting in the way of everybody, and yet feeling himself quite equal to + any business emergency that might crop up. He felt himself equal to + anything—even to improve upon the auctioneer's style in appraising + the value of the whole concern. “Beyond the dreams of avarice” remains as + the sole classic phrase born beneath the shadow of a brew-house. + </p> + <p> + In the matter of the premium to Perkins, Thrale should have felt that he + had a treasure in his wife, to say nothing of all that she had done for + him upon another occasion, involving a terrible sacrifice. A quarrel had + broken out among the clerks at the brewery, which even the generalship of + Perkins was unable to mollify. Had Mrs. Thrale been an ordinary woman she + would not have jeopardised her own life and the life of her child—her + thirteenth—in her husband's interests. As it was, however, she felt + that the duty was imposed on her to settle the difficulties in the + counting-house, and she did so; but only after many sleepless nights and + the sacrifice of her child. “The men were reconciled,” she wrote, “and my + danger accelerated their reconcilement.” + </p> + <p> + If Henry Thrale was deficient in the best characteristics of a business + man, his qualifications to shine socially can scarcely be regarded as + abundant. There were stories of his having been a gay dog in his youth, + but assuredly he and gaiety had long been strangers when he married his + wife, and upon no occasion afterwards could he be so described even by the + most indulgent of his friends; so that one rather inclines to the belief + that the dull dog must have been a dull puppy. We know what his eldest + daughter was, and we are convinced that the nature of that priggish, + dignified, and eminently disagreeable young lady was inherited from her + father. In Miss Thrale as a girl one feels that one is looking at Henry + Thrale as a boy. The only story that survives of those mythical gay days + with which he was accredited is that relating to the arrival of the + Gunnings to take London by storm. It was said that he and Murphy thought + to make these exquisite creatures the laughing-stock of the town by + introducing them to a vulgar hanger-on of Murphy, in the character of a + wealthy man of title and distinction. Possibly the two young men were put + up to play this disgraceful prank upon the Gunnings by some jealous female + associate; but however this may be, it not only failed most ignominiously, + it recoiled upon the jesters themselves, for Mrs. Gunning, herself the + sister of a nobleman, and destined to become the mother-in-law of two + dukes and the grandmother of two more—the parent of a peeress in her + own right, and an uncommonly shrewd Irishwoman into the bargain—“smoaked,” + as the slang of the period had it, the trick, and her footman bundled the + trio into the street. + </p> + <p> + The story may be true; but as both the Gunning girls were married in 1752, + and Thrale did not meet Hester Lynch Salusbury till 1763, it was an old + story then, and it was not remembered against him except by the Duchess of + Hamilton. If it represents the standard of his adolescent wildness, we + cannot but think that his youth was less meteoric than his wife believed + it to be. At any rate, we do not know much about his early life, but we do + know a great deal about his latter years, and it is impossible to believe + that his nature underwent a radical change within a year or two of his + marriage. + </p> + <p> + He became the host of a large number of the most notable people of that + brilliant period at which he lived, and we perceive from the copious + accounts that survive of the Streatham gatherings that he was greatly + respected by all his visitors. He never said anything that was worth + recording, and he never did anything memorable beyond stopping Johnson + when the latter was becoming more than usually offensive to his + fellow-guests. He had no ear for music any more than Johnson had, and it + does not appear that he cared any more for painting, although he became a + splendid patron of Sir Joshua Reynolds, whom he commissioned to paint + several portraits of his distinguished friends for the decoration of the + library at Streatham. To his munificence in this respect the world owes + its finest portraits of Goldsmith, Burke, Garrick, the painter himself, + and Mrs. Thrale. + </p> + <p> + The debt which we feel we owe to Thrale on this account is, however, + somewhat discounted when we learn that this enthusiastic patron of art + never paid the painter for his work. He left the pictures and the + obligation to pay for them as a legacy to his widow—and to pay for + them at more than the current rate for each into the bargain. Sir Joshua + Reynolds was as good a man of business as Thrale was an indifferent one. + At the time of his painting the portraits his price for a + three-quarter-length picture was £35, but in the course of a year or two + he felt it necessary to charge £50 for the same size, and this was the + price which the unfortunate widow had to pay for her husband's pose as the + munificent patron of the Arts. + </p> + <p> + Men of the stamp of Thrale usually have no vices. + </p> + <p> + They are highly respected. If they had a vice or two they would be + beloved. He had a solitary failing, but it did not win for him the + affection of any one: it was gluttony. For years of his life he gave + himself up to the coarsest form of indulgence. He was not a gourmet: he + did not aim at the refinements of the table or at those daintinesses of + cuisine which in the days of intemperate eaters and drinkers proved so + fatally fascinating to men of many virtues; no, his was the vice of the + trough. He ate for the sake of eating, unmindful of the nature of the dish + so long as it was plentiful enough to keep him employed for an hour or + two. + </p> + <p> + The dinner-table of the famous Streatham Park must have been a spectacle + for some of the philosophers who sat round it. We know what was the food + that Johnson's soul loved, and we know how he was accustomed to partake of + it. He rioted in pork, and in veal baked with raisins, and when he sat + down to some such dainty he fed like a wild animal. He used his fingers as + though they were claws, tearing the flesh from the bone in his teeth, and + swallowing it not wholly without sound. It is not surprising to learn that + his exertions caused the veins in his forehead to swell and the beads of + perspiration to drop from his scholarly brow, nor can any one who has + survived this account of his muscular feat at the dinner-table reasonably + be amazed to hear that when so engaged, he devoted himself to the work + before him to the exclusion of every other interest in life. He was + oblivious of anything that was going on around him. He was deaf to any + remark made by a neighbour, and for himself articulation was suspended. + Doubtless the feeble folk on whom he had been trampling in the + drawing-room felt that his peculiarities of feeding, though revolting to + the squeamish, were not without a bright side. They had a chance of making + a remark at such intervals without being gored—“gored,” it will be + remembered, was the word employed by Boswell in playful allusion to the + effect of his argumentative powers. + </p> + <p> + Thanks to the careful habits of some of the guests at this famous house we + know what fare was placed before the Gargantuan geniuses at one of these + dinners. Here is the <i>carte du jour</i>, “sufficient for twelve,” as the + cookery book says: + </p> + <p> + “First course, soups at head and foot, removed by fish and a saddle of + mutton; second course, a fowl they call galena at head and a capon larger + than some of our Irish turkeys at foot; third course, four different sorts + of ices, pine-apple, grape, raspberry and a fourth; in each remove there + were fourteen dishes.” The world is indebted to an Irish clergyman for + these details. It will be seen that they did not include much that could + be sneered at as bordering on the kickshaw. All was good solid English + fare—just the sort to make the veins in a gormandiser's forehead to + swell and to induce the lethargy from which Thrale suffered. He usually + fell asleep after dinner; one day he failed to awake, and he has not + awakened since. + </p> + <p> + Of course Johnson, being invariably in delicate health, was compelled to + put himself on an invalid's diet when at home. He gives us a sample of a + <i>diner maigre</i> at Bolt Court. Feeling extremely ill, he wrote to Mrs. + Thrale that he could only take for dinner “skate, pudding, goose, and + green asparagus, and could have eaten more but was prudent.” He adds, + “Pray for me, dear Madam,”—by no means an unnecessary injunction, + some people will think, when they become aware of the details of the meal + of an invalid within a year or two of seventy. + </p> + <p> + It was after one of the Streatham dinners that Mrs. Thrale ventured to say + a word or two in favour of Garrick's talent for light gay poetry, and as a + specimen repeated his song in <i>Florizel and Perdita</i>, and dwelt with + peculiar pleasure on this line: + </p> + <p> + <i>I'd smile with the simple and dine with the poor.</i> + </p> + <p> + This is Boswell's account of the matter, and he adds that Johnson cried, + “Nay, my dear lady, this will never do. Poor David! Smile with the simple! + What folly is that? And who would feed with the poor that can help it? No, + no; let me smile with the wise and feed with the rich!” + </p> + <p> + Quite so; beyond a doubt Johnson spoke from the bottom of his heart—nay, + from a deeper depth still. + </p> + <p> + Boswell was amazed to find that Garrick's “sensibility” as a writer was + irritated when he related the story to him, and in Mrs. Thrale's copy of + Johnson she made a note—“How odd to go and tell the man!” + </p> + <p> + It was not at all odd that Boswell, being a professional tale-bearer and + mischief-maker, should tell the man; but it is odd that Garrick should be + irritated, the fact being that the sally was directed against a line which + he did not write. What Garrick did write was something very different. The + verse, which was misquoted, runs thus: + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + That giant Ambition we never can dread; + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + Our roofs are too low for so lofty a head; + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + Content and sweet Cheerfulness open our door, + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + They smile with the simple and feed with the poor. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + Such a muddle as was made of the whole thing can only be attributed to the + solidity of the Streatham fare. + </p> + <p> + It was inevitable that Thrale could not continue over-eating himself with + impunity. He was warned more than once by his doctors that he was killing + himself, and yet when he had his first attack every one was shocked. He + recovered temporarily, and all his friends implored him to cultivate + moderation at the dinner-table. A touch of humour is to be found among the + details of the sordid story, in his wife's begging Johnson—Johnson + of the swollen forehead and the tokens of his submission to the primeval + curse in the eating of his bread—to try to reason the unhappy man + out of his dreadful vice. After wiping from the front of his coat the + remains of the eighth peach which he had eaten before breakfast, or the + dregs of his nineteenth cup of tea from his waistcoat, Johnson may have + felt equal to the duty. He certainly remonstrated with Thrale. It was all + to no purpose, however; he had a second attack of apoplexy in the spring + of 1780, and we hear that he was copiously “blooded.” He recovered and + went to Bath to recruit. It was during this visit to Bath that the brewery + was attacked by the Gordon rioters. On returning to London he failed to + induce his constituents to remain faithful to him, and he continued eating + voraciously for another year. He began a week of gorging on April 1st, + 1781. His wife implored him to be more moderate, and Johnson said very + wisely, “Sir, after the denunciation of your physicians this morning, such + eating is little better than suicide.” It was all to no purpose. He + survived the gorge of Sunday and Monday, but that of Tuesday was too much + for him. He was found by his daughter on the floor in a fit of apoplexy, + and died the next morning. + </p> + <p> + Such was the man whose memory was outraged by the marriage of his widow + with Piozzi, an Italian musician, whose ability was so highly appreciated + that his earnings, even when he had lost his voice, amounted to £1200 a + year, a sum equal to close upon £2500 of our money. And yet Johnson had + the effrontery to suggest in that letter of his to Mrs. Thrale, which we + have quoted, that she would do well to live in England, so that her money + might be under her own eye! + </p> + <p> + The truth is that Mrs. Thrale was in embarrassed circumstances when she + married Signor Piozzi. Her worthy husband left her an annuity of £2000, + which was to be reduced by £800 in the event of her marrying again; and + also £500 for her immediate expenses. Johnson wrote to her, making her + acquainted with this fact, in order, it would seem, to allay any unworthy + suspicion which she might entertain as to the extent of her husband's + generosity. But his last will and testament cannot have wholly dispersed + the doubt into which her experience of Mr. Thrale may have led her. For a + man who had been making from £16,000 to £20,000 a year to leave his wife + only £2000 a year, with a possibility of its being reduced to £1200, would + not strike any one as being generous to a point of recklessness. When, + however, it is remembered that Thrale's wife plucked him and his business + from the verge of bankruptcy more than once, that she bore him fourteen + children, and that she lived with him for eighteen years, all question as + to the generosity of his bequest to her vanishes. But when, in addition, + it is remembered that the lady's fortune at her marriage to Thrale + amounted to £10,000, all of which he pocketed, and that later on she + brought him another £500 a year, that it was her mother's money, added to + the sum which she herself collected personally, which saved the brewery + from collapse—once again at the sacrifice of her infant—all + question even of common fairness disappears, and the meanness of the man + stands revealed. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> </a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0083.jpg" alt="0083 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0083.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + It was through the exertions and by the business capacity of his widow + that the brewery was sold for £135,000. She was the only one of the + trustees who knew anything definite about the value of the property, and + had she not been on the spot, that astute Mr. Perkins could have so worked + the concern that he might have been able to buy it in a year or two for + the value of the building materials. And yet when she became involved in a + lawsuit that involved the paying of £7000, she had difficulty in + persuading her daughters' trustees to advance her the money, although the + security of the mortgage which she offered for the accommodation would + have satisfied any bankers. A wretch named Crutchley, who was one of this + precious band of incompetents, on the completion of the deed bade her + thank her daughters for keeping her out of gaol. It is not recorded that + the lady replied, though she certainly might have done so, and with truth + on her side, that if her daughters had kept her out of a gaol she had kept + her daughters out of a workhouse. She would have done much better to have + gone to her friends the Barclays, whose bank had a hundred and fifty years + ago as high a reputation for probity combined with liberality as the same + concern enjoys to-day. + </p> + <p> + Enough of the business side of Mrs. Thrale's second marriage has been + revealed to make it plain that Piozzi was not influenced by any mercenary + motives in the transaction. On the contrary, it was he who came to her + assistance when she was in an extremity, and by the prompt loan of £1000 + extricated her from her embarrassment, and left the next day for Italy, + without having any hope of marrying her. + </p> + <p> + Johnson's verdict on Piozzi, communicated to Miss Seward, was that he was + an ugly dog, without particular skill in his profession. Unfortunately for + this musical enthusiast and devotee to beauty, Miss Seward met Piozzi on + his return from Italy with his wife. (His excellent control of her money + had resulted in every penny of the mortgage being paid, and of the + lodgment of £1500 to their credit in the bank). And Miss Seward, writing + from Lichfield—more of the irony of Fate—in 1787, affirmed + that the great Lichfield man “did not tell me the truth when he asserted + that Piozzi was an ugly dog, without particular skill in his profession. + M. Piozzi is a handsome man in middle life, with gentle, pleasing, + unaffected manners, and with very eminent skill in his profession. Though + he has not a powerful or fine-toned voice, he sings with transcending + grace and expression. I was charmed with his perfect expression on his + instrument. Surely the finest sensibilities must vibrate through his + frame, since they breathe so sweetly through his song.” From this verdict + no person who was acquainted with Signor Piozzi differed. Mrs. Thrale's + marriage with Piozzi was as fortunate for her as her first marriage was + for Thrale. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A TRAGEDY IN THE HAYMARKET + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>BOUT half-past + nine o'clock on the night of October 6th, 1769, a tall, middle-aged + gentleman named Joseph Baretti was walking up the Hay-market. The street + was probably as well lighted as any other in London, and this is + equivalent to saying that a foot passenger, by keeping close to the + windows of the shops and taking cross bearings of the economically + distributed oil lamps hung out at the corners of the many lanes, might be + able to avoid the deep channel of filth that slunk along the margin of + cobble stones. But just at this time the Haymarket must have been + especially well illuminated, for the Opera House was in the act of + discharging its audience, and quite a number of these fashionable folk + went home in their chairs, with link boys walking by the side of the burly + Irish chairmen, showing a flaring flame which left behind it a long trail + of suffocating smoke, and spluttered resin and bitumen into the faces and + upon the garments of all who were walking within range of the illuminant. + Then there was the little theatre higher up the street, and its lamps were + not yet extinguished; so that Mr. Baretti may have felt that on the whole + he was fortunate in the hour he had chosen for his stroll to the + coffee-house where he meant to sup. He may have thought that he had a + chance of coming across his friend Sir Joshua Reynolds leaving one of the + playhouses, and of being invited by that hospitable gentleman to his house + in Leicester Fields; or his still more intimate friend Dr. Samuel Johnson, + who would certainly insist on carrying him off to the “Mitre,” unless the + great man were accompanied by that little Scotch person, James Boswell, + who usually wanted him all to himself, after he had given people a chance + of seeing him in the company of his distinguished friend, and envying him + his position of intimacy—the same position of intimacy that exists + between a Duke and his doormat. Mr. Baretti was too short-sighted to have + any chance of recognising Sir Joshua Reynolds unless he chanced to be + standing under the lamp in the portico of the playhouse, but he felt that + he would have no trouble in recognising Dr. Johnson. The latter had + characteristics that appealed to other senses than the sense of seeing, + and made the act of recognition easy enough to his intimates. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Baretti, however, passed along the dispersing crowd, and was soon in + the dim regions of Panton Street, where pedestrians were few. But before + he had turned down this street he found his way barred by a couple of + half-drunken women. His infirmity of sight prevented his being aware of + their presence until he was almost in the arms of one of them, and the + very second that he made his sudden stop she made a change in the details + of the accident that seemed imminent and threw herself into his arms with + a yell. + </p> + <p> + The good man was staggered for a moment, but, recovering himself, he flung + her off with an expressive word or two in the Italian tongue. She went + limply back and, being adroitly avoided by her companion, gave a circular + stagger or two and fell into the gutter with a screech. + </p> + <p> + Baretti was hurrying on when out of the darkness of Panton Street a big + man sprang, followed quickly by two others. The first seized him by the + right arm with the oath of a bully, the others tried to trip him up, + shouting that he had killed a lady. Baretti was a powerful man and + decidedly tough. He struck at the fellow who had closed with him, and used + his feet against the attack of the others with considerable effect. He + managed to free his arm, but before he could draw his sword he was pulled + backward and would have fallen upon his head if he had not clutched the + coat of the man from whom he had freed himself. There was a pause of a few + seconds, filled up by the wild street yell of the women. The most + aggressive of the three men leapt upon the unfortunate Baretti, but before + their bodies met, gave a guttural shriek, then a groan. He staggered past, + his fingers tearing like talons at his ribs; he whirled twice round and, + gasping, fell on his knees, motionless only for a few seconds; his hands + dropped limply from his side, and he pitched forward on his head into the + gutter. + </p> + <p> + Baretti was standing, awaiting a further attack, with a knife in his hand, + when he was seized by some of the crowd. He offered no resistance. He + seemed to be so amazed at finding himself alive as to be incapable of + taking any further action. + </p> + <p> + “He has killed the man—stabbed him with a dagger to the very heart!” + was the cry that came from those of the crowd who were kneeling beside the + wretch in the gutter. + </p> + <p> + “And a woman—he had slain a woman at the outset. Hold him fast. None + of us are safe this night. Have a care for the dagger, friends!” + </p> + <p> + A sufficiency of advice was given by the excited onlookers to the men who + had encircled Baretti—one of them was clinging to him with his arms + clasped around his body—until two of the Haymarket watch hurried up, + striking right and left with their staves after the wholesome manner of + the period, and so making a way for their approach through the crowd. + </p> + <p> + “'Tis more than a street brawl—a man has been slain—some say a + woman also,” a shopkeeper explained to them, having run bareheaded out of + his shop; his apprentice had just put up the last of the shutters. + </p> + <p> + They had Baretti by the collar in a second, cautiously disarming him, + holding the weapon up to the nearest lamp. The blade was still wet with + blood. + </p> + <p> + “A swinging matter this,” one of them remarked. “I can swear to the blood. + No dagger, but a knife. What man walks the streets at night with a naked + knife unless slaughter is his intent?” + </p> + <p> + “Friends, I was attacked by three bullies, and I defended myself—that + is all,” said Baretti. He spoke English perfectly. + </p> + <p> + “You will need to tell that to Sir John in the morning,” said one of the + watchmen. “You are apprehended in the King's name. Where is the poor + victim?” + </p> + <p> + “There must be some of the crowd who saw how I was attacked,” said + Baretti. “They will testify that I acted in self-defence. Sirs, hear me + make an appeal to you. Out of your sense of justice—you will not see + an innocent man apprehended.” + </p> + <p> + “The knife—who carries a bare knife in the streets unless with + intent?” said a man. + </p> + <p> + “'Twas my fruit-knife. I never go abroad without it. I eat my fruit like a + Christian, not like a pig or an Englishman,” was the defence offered by + Baretti, who had now quite lost his temper and was speaking with his + accustomed bitterness. He usually sought to pass as an Englishman, but he + was now being arrested by the minions of the law as it was in England. + </p> + <p> + “Hear him! A pig of an Englishman. Those were his words! A foreign hound. + Frenchie, I'll be bound.” + </p> + <p> + “A spy—most like a Papist. He has the hanging brow of a born + Papist.” + </p> + <p> + “He'll hang like a dog at Tyburn—he may be sure o' that.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis the mercy o' Heaven that the rascal was caught red-handed! Sirs, + this may be the beginning of a dreadful massacring plot against the lives + of honest and peaceful people.” + </p> + <p> + The comments of a crowd of the period upon such an incident as the + stabbing of an Englishman by a foreigner in the streets of London can + easily be imagined. + </p> + <p> + Even when Baretti was put into a hackney coach and driven off to Bow + Street the crowd doubtless remained talking in groups of the menace to + English freedom and true religion by the arrival of pestilent foreigners, + every man of them carrying a knife. It would be a sad day for England when + Jesuitical fruit-knives took the place of good wholesome British bludgeons + in the settlement of the ordinary differences incidental to a Protestant + people. + </p> + <p> + It is certain that this was one of the comments of the disintegrating + crowd, and it is equally certain that Baretti commented pretty freely to + his custodians in the hackney coach upon the place occupied in the comity + of nations of that State, the social conditions of whose metropolis made + possible so gross a scandal as the arrest of a gentleman and a scholar, + solely by reason of his success in snatching his life out of the talons of + a ruffian and a bully. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Baretti was a gentleman and a scholar whose name appears pretty + frequently in the annals of the eighteenth century, but seldom with any + great credit to himself. As a matter of fact, this dramatic episode of the + stabbing of the man in the Haymarket is the happiest with which his name + is associated. He made his most creditable appearance in the chronicles of + the period as the chief actor in this sordid drama. He cuts a very poor + figure indeed upon every other occasion when he appears in the pages of + his contemporaries, though they all meant to be kind to him. + </p> + <p> + He never could bear people to be kind to him, and certainly, so far as he + himself was concerned, it cannot be said that any blame attaches to him + for the persistence of his friends in this direction. He did all that + mortal man could do to discourage them, and if after the lapse of a year + or two he was still treated by some with cordiality or respect, assuredly + it was not owing to his display of any qualities that justified their + maintenance of such an attitude. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Baretti was an eminently detestable scholar of many parts. He was as + detestable as he was learned—perhaps even more so. Learned men are + not invariably horrid, unless they are men of genius as well, and this + rarely happens. + </p> + <p> + Baretti had no such excuse, though it must be acknowledged that his + capacity for being disagreeable almost amounted to genius. Such a + character as his is now and again met with in daily life. A man who feels + himself to be, in point of scholarly attainment, far above the majority of + men, and who sees inferiority occupying a place of distinction while he + remains neglected and, to his thinking, unappreciated, is not an uncommon + figure in learned or artistic circles. Baretti was a disappointed man, and + he showed himself to be such. He had a grievance against the world for + being constituted as it is. He had a grievance against society. He had a + grievance against his friends who got on in the world. But the only people + against whom he was really malevolent were those who were signally and + unaccountably kind to him. He accepted their kindness, and then turned and + rent them. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Johnson met him when they were both working for the booksellers, and + when the great dictionary scheme was floated his co-operation was + welcomed. Johnson's success in life was largely due to his faculty for + discovering people who could be useful to him. It can easily be believed + that, knowing something of the scholarship of Baretti, he should be + delighted to avail himself of his help. Baretti had an intimate knowledge + of several languages and their literature; as a philologist he was + probably far superior to Johnson; and possibly Johnson knew this, though + he was doubtless too wise ever to acknowledge so much openly. We do not + hear that the relations between the two ever became strained while the + great work was in course of progress. Shortly after it was completed + Baretti returned to his native Italy, and began to reproach Johnson for + not writing to him more frequently. We have several examples of the + cheerfulness with which Johnson set about exculpating himself from such + reproaches. The letters which he wrote to him at Italy are among the most + natural that ever came from his pen. They are models of the gossipy style + which Johnson could assume without once deviating from that dignity which + so frequently became ponderous, suggesting the dignity of the elephant + rather than that of the lion. Walpole was a master of the art of being + gossipy without being dignified. But Johnson's style was not flexible. We + have not Baretti's letters to Johnson, but the references made by the + latter to some matters communicated to him by his correspondent let us + know something of how Baretti was getting on in the land of his birth. He + seems to have set his heart upon obtaining some appointment in Italy, and + his aspirations included marriage. He was disappointed in both directions; + and it would be too much to expect that his temper was improved by these + rebuffs. + </p> + <p> + It may well be believed that he quarrelled his way through Italy. “I have + lately seen Mr. Stratico, Professor of Padua, who has told me of your + quarrel with an abbot of the Celestine Order, but had not the particulars + very ready in his memory,” Johnson wrote to him at Milan. Any one who + could quarrel with an abbot of the Celestine Order would, we fancy, be <i>capable + de tout</i>, like the prophet Habakkuk, according to the witty Frenchman. + One is not disposed to be hard upon Professor Stratico for his shortness + of memory in regard to this particular quarrel; the strain of remembering + the details of all the quarrels of Mr. Baretti would be too great for any + man. + </p> + <p> + Of course, Dr. Johnson gave him some excellent advice. It seems that poor + Baretti had been at first so well received on his return to Italy that he + became sanguine of success in all his enterprises, and when they + miscarried he wrote very bitterly to Johnson, who replied as follows: + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry for your disappointment, with which you seem more touched than + I should expect a man of your resolution and experience to have been, did + I not know that general truths are seldom applied to particular occasions; + and that the fallacy of our selflove extends itself as wide as our + interests or affections. Every man believes that mistresses are unfaithful + and patrons capricious; but he excepts his own mistress and his own + patron. We have all learned that greatness is negligent and contemptuous, + and that in Courts life is often languished away in ungratified + expectation; but he that approaches greatness or glitters in a Court, + imagines that destiny has at last exempted him from the common lot.” + </p> + <p> + It is doubtful if this excellent philosophy made the person to whom it was + addressed more amiable to his immediate entourage; nor is it likely that + he was soothed by the assurance that his “patron's weakness or + insensibility will finally do you little hurt, if he is not assisted by + your own passions.” + </p> + <p> + “Of your love,” continued Johnson, “I know not the propriety; we can + estimate the power, but in love, as in every other passion of which hope + is the essence, we ought always to remember the uncertainty of events.” He + then hastens to add that “love and marriage are different states. Those + who are to suffer the evils together, and to suffer often for the sake of + one another, soon lose that tenderness of look, and that benevolence of + mind which arose from the participation of unmingled pleasure and success + in amusement.” + </p> + <p> + The pleasant little cynical bark in the phrase “those that are to suffer + the evils together,” as if it referred to love and marriage, is, Malone + thinks, not Johnson's, but Baretti's. It is suggested that Johnson really + wrote “those that are to suffer the evils <i>of life</i> together,” and + that Baretti in transcribing the letter for Boswell, purposely omitted the + words “<i>of life</i>.” It would be quite like Baretti to do this; for he + would thereby work off part of his spite against Johnson for having given + him the advice, and he would have had his own sneer against “love and + marriage,” the <i>fons et origo</i> of his disappointment. + </p> + <p> + But of Dr. Johnson's esteem for the attainments of Baretti there can be no + doubt. He thought that the book on Italy which he published on his return + to England was very entertaining, adding: “Sir, I know no man who carries + his head higher in conversation than Baretti. There are strong powers in + his mind. He has not, indeed, many hooks; but with what hooks he has he + grapples very forcibly.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> </a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0099.jpg" alt="0099 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0099.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + It may seem rather strange after this that Baretti was never admitted to + the membership of the celebrated club. He was intimate with nearly all the + original members, but the truth remained that he was not what Johnson + called a clubbable man: he had too many hooks, not too few. + </p> + <p> + Such was the man who was brought before Sir John Fielding, the magistrate + at Bow Street, on the morning after the tragedy, charged with murder; and + then it was that he found the value of the friendships which he had formed + in England. The first person to hasten to his side in his extremity was + Oliver Goldsmith, the man whom he had so frequently made the object of his + sarcasm, whose peculiarities he had mimicked, not in the playful manner of + Garrick or Foote, but in his own spiteful style, with the grim humour of + the disappointed man. Goldsmith it was who opened his purse for him and + got a coach for him when he was remanded until the next day, riding by his + side to the place of his incarceration. Goldsmith was by his side when the + question of bail was discussed before Lord Mansfield. For some reason + which does not require any particular explanation, it was not thought that + Goldsmith as a bailsman would appeal irresistibly to the authorities, but + the names of Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Edmund Burke, Mr. David Garrick, and + Mr. H. Fitzherbert were submitted to Lord Mansfield, and immediately + accepted. An amusing anecdote was current regarding the few days of + Baretti's incarceration. One morning he was visited by a teacher of + languages, who begged a trifling favour of him. This was merely a letter + of recommendation to Baretti's pupils, so that the applicant might have a + chance of taking them over “when you are hanged, sir.” The fact that this + sympathetic visitor was allowed to depart without molestation makes people + doubt whether Baretti was so bad-tempered after all. He did not assault + the man. “You rascal!” he cried. “If I were not in my own room, I would + kick you downstairs directly.” + </p> + <p> + The trial was fixed for October 20th at the Old Bailey, and a few days + before this date a number of the prisoner's friends met together to + consult as to the line which should be taken for his defence. It seems + that they were not all agreed on some points; this was only to be + expected, considering what an array of wisdom was brought together upon + the occasion of these consultations, and considering also the course which + was adopted by Dr. Johnson, who thought that the interests of the prisoner + would be advanced by getting up an academical discussion with Burke. + Johnson and Burke were notorious rivals in conversation in those days when + conversation was regarded as an art, and men and women seemed to have + plenty of leisure to talk together for the sake of talking, and to argue + together for the sake of argument, and to be rude to one another for the + sake of wit. Boswell was for ever extolling Johnson at the expense of + Burke; and indeed, so far as one can gather from his pages, Johnson was + the ruder man. + </p> + <p> + The example that Boswell gives of his own readiness in making Goldsmith + “shut up” when he questioned Johnson's superiority to Burke in discussion + is one of the best instances of the little Scotsman's incapacity to + perceive the drift of an argument. “Is he like Burke who winds into a + subject like a serpent?” asked Goldsmith. + </p> + <p> + “But” (said I) “Dr. Johnson is the Hercules that strangled serpents in his + cradle.” + </p> + <p> + This repartee which Boswell gleefully records is about equal to the reply + made by one of the poets who was appealed to in the “Bab Ballads” to say + if he wrote “the lovely cracker mottoes my Elvira pulls at supper.” It + will be remembered that the poet whose name rhymes with “supper” replied: + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="indent10"> + “'A fool is bent upon a twig, but wise men dread a bandit,' + </p> + <p class="indent10"> + Which” (the earnest inquirer said) “I felt was very wise, + </p> + <p class="indent20"> + but I didn't understand it.” + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + It was in regard to this consultation as to the best defence to be made + out for Baretti that Johnson admitted to have opposed Burke simply for the + sake of showing the rest of the company that he could get the better of + Burke in an argument. “Burke and I,” he said, “should have been of one + opinion if we had had no audience.” Such a confession! There was the life + of his friend Baretti trembling in the balance, and yet Johnson, solely + for the sake of “showing off,” opposed the wisdom and ingenuity Burke + exercised to save from the gallows a man whom Johnson professed to admire! + </p> + <p> + But if we are to believe Boswell, Johnson cared very little whether his + friend was hanged or not. As for Boswell himself, he always detested + Baretti, and is reported to have expressed the earnest hope that the man + would be hanged. However, the “consultations” went merrily on, and + doubtless contributed in some measure to a satisfactory solution of the + vexed question as to whether Johnson or Burke was the more brilliant + talker. They formed a tolerably valid excuse for the uncorking of several + bottles, and perhaps these friends of Baretti felt that even though he + should die, yet the exchange of wit in the course of these happy evenings + would live for ever in the memory of those present, so that after all, let + the worst come to the worst, Baretti should have little cause for + complaint. + </p> + <p> + It is reported that the prisoner, upon the occasion of his receiving a + visit from Johnson and Burke, cried: “What need a man fear who holds two + such hands?” It may here be mentioned, however, that although it was + asserted that Johnson and Murphy were responsible for the line of defence + adopted at the trial, yet in after years Baretti was most indignant that + it should be suggested that credit should be given to any one but himself + for his defence; and he ridiculed the notion that Johnson or Burke or + Murphy or even Boswell—himself an aspirant to the profession of law + in which he subsequently displayed a conspicuous lack of distinction—had + anything to do with the instruction either of solicitors or barristers on + his behalf. + </p> + <p> + At any rate, the “consultations” came to an end, and the friends of the + accused awaited the trial with exemplary patience. Mr. Boswell seems + suddenly to have become the most sympathetic of the friends; for three + days before the event he took a journey to Tyburn to witness the hanging + of several men at that place, and though it is known that the spectacle of + a hanging never lost its charm for him, yet it is generous to assume that + upon this occasion he went to Tyburn in order to qualify himself more + fully for sympathising with Baretti, should the defence assigned to him + break down. + </p> + <p> + Another ardent sympathiser was Mr. Thomas Davies the bookseller, a + gentleman whose chief distinction in the eyes of his contemporaries + consisted—if we are to believe one of the wittiest of his associates—in + the fact that he had an exceedingly pretty wife; but whose claim to the + gratitude of coming generations lies in the circumstance of his having + introduced Boswell to Johnson. Tom Davies was terribly cut up at the + thought of the possibility of Baretti's being sentenced to be hanged. + Boswell, on the day before the trial, after telling Johnson how he had + witnessed the executions at Tyburn, and expressing his surprise that none + of the wretches seemed to think anything of the matter, mentioned that + Foote, the actor, had shown him a letter which he had received from Tom + Davies, and in which the writer affirmed that he had not had a wink of + sleep owing to his anxiety in respect of “this sad affair of Baretti,” and + begging Foote to suggest some way by which he could be of service to the + accused, adding that should Mr. Foote be in need of anything in the pickle + line, he could strongly recommend him to an industrious young man who had + lately set up in that business. + </p> + <p> + Strange to say, Johnson was not impressed with this marked evidence of Mr. + Davies' kind heart. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, sir, here you have a specimen of human sympathy,” he cried. “A friend + hanged and a cucumber pickled! We know not whether Baretti or the pickle + man has kept Davies from sleep; nor does he know himself.” + </p> + <p> + This was rather sweeping, but his dictum showed that he was rather a poor + analyser of human emotion. In the minds of the people of to-day who read + of Tom Davies' bad nights there is no manner of doubt whatever that the + sequence of his emotions was to be attributed to his intimacy with the + industrious young pickle maker. Tom had indulged rather too freely in some + of the specimens of his art presented to him by the pickler, and the + result was a melancholy night; and, being melancholy, he was led to think + of the most melancholy incident that had recently come under his notice. + When a man is full of mixed pickles he is liable to get a little mixed, + and so in the morning he attributed his miserable night to his thoughts + about Baretti, instead of knowing that his thoughts about Baretti were the + natural result of his miserable night. If he had been acquainted with an + industrious young onion merchant he might have passed the night in tears. + </p> + <p> + “As for his not sleeping,” said Dr. Johnson, “sir, Tom Davies is a very + great man—Tom has been on the stage, and knows how to do those + things.” + </p> + <p> + Boswell: “I have often blamed myself, sir, for not feeling for others as + sensibly as many say they do.” Johnson: “Sir, don't be duped by them any + more. You will find those very feeling people are not very ready to do you + good. They pay you by feeling.” Mr. Boswell thought that he would do well + to turn his friend from the subject under discussion, so he made the + apparently harmless remark that Foote had a great deal of humour and that + he had a singular talent of exhibiting character. But Johnson had on him + the mood not only of “the rugged Russian bear,” but also of “the armed + rhinoceros and the Hyrcan tiger.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, it is not a talent: it is a vice; it is what others abstain from,” + he growled. + </p> + <p> + “Did not he think of exhibiting you, sir?” inquired the tactful Mr. + Boswell, though he knew all about Foote and Johnson long before. + </p> + <p> + “Sir, fear restrained him,” said Johnson. “He knew I would have broken his + bones. I would have saved him the trouble of cutting off a leg: I would + not have left him a leg to cut off.” + </p> + <p> + This brutal reference to the fact that Foote's recent accident had + compelled him to have a leg amputated should surely have suggested to his + inquisitor that he had probably been paying a visit to an industrious + young pickle maker without Tom Davies' recommendation, or that he had + partaken of too generous a helping of his favourite veal, baked with + plums, and so that he would do well to leave him alone for a while. But + no, Mr. Boswell was not to be denied. + </p> + <p> + “Pray, sir, is not Foote an infidel?” he inquired. But as he himself had + been dining with Foote the previous day, and as he possessed no more + delicacy than a polecat, he could easily have put the question to Foote + himself. + </p> + <p> + But Johnson would not even give the man credit for his infidelity. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know, sir, that the fellow is an infidel,” he said; “but if he + is an infidel, he is an infidel as a dog is an infidel, that is to say, he + has never thought on the subject.” + </p> + <p> + In another second he was talking of Buchanan, a poet, whom he praised, and + of Shakespeare, another poet, whom he condemned, winding up by saying that + there were some very fine things in Dr. Young's <i>Night Thoughts</i>. But + the most remarkable of his deliverances on this rather memorable evening + had reference to Baretti's fate. After declaring that if one of his + friends had just been hanged he would eat his dinner every bit as heartily + as if his friend were still alive.—“Why, there's Baretti, who is to + be tried for his life to-morrow,” he added; “friends have risen up for him + on every side; yet if he should be hanged, none of them will eat a slice + of plum pudding the less.” Happily the accuracy of this tender-hearted + scholar's prediction had no chance of being put to the test. Baretti was + tried and acquitted. + </p> + <p> + Boswell gives only a few lines to an account of the trial, and fails to + mention that the prisoner declined the privilege of being tried by a jury + one half of whom should be foreigners. “It took place,” he said, “at the + awful Sessions House, emphatically called Justice Hall,” and he affirms + that “never did such a constellation of genius enlighten the Old Bailey.” + </p> + <p> + He mentions that Mr. Burke, Mr. Garrick, Mr. Beauclerk, and Dr. Johnson + gave evidence, the last-named being especially impressive, speaking in a + slow, deliberate, and distinct tone of voice. It seems strange that + Boswell, who was (nominally) a lawyer, when he wrote his life of Johnson, + should say nothing whatever respecting the line of defence adopted by the + friends of the prisoner upon this interesting occasion. It might have been + expected that he would dwell lovingly, as a lawyer would certainly be + pardoned for doing, upon the technical points involved in the trial, even + though he hated Baretti. For instance, it would be interesting to learn + why it was thought that the result of the trial might mean the hanging of + Baretti, when from the first it was perfectly plain that he had acted in + self-defence: not merely was he protecting his purse, he had actually to + fight for his life against an acknowledged ruffian of the most + contemptible type. In the present day if a short-sighted man of letters—say + Mr. Augustine Birrell—were to be attacked in a dark street by three + notorious scoundrels and to manage to kill one of them by poking the + ferrule end of an umbrella into his eye, no one—not even a + Conservative Attorney-General—would fancy that a grand jury at the + New Old Bailey would return a true bill against him for the act, putting + aside all question of his being found guilty and sentenced to be hanged. + And yet in Baretti's time swords were commonly worn, and they were by no + means toy weapons. Why should poor Tom Davies have a sleepless night, + owing (as he believed) to his apprehension that his friend would be hanged + in a day or two? Why was it necessary to dazzle the “awful Sessions House” + by such “a constellation of genius” as had never before assembled in that + “Hall of Justice”? + </p> + <p> + Mr. Boswell might certainly have told us something of the actual scene in + the court, when he has devoted so much space to the ridiculous dialogues + between himself and Johnson, having more or less bearing upon the case. + The course he adopted is like laying a dinner-table with four knives and + forks and five wineglasses for every guest—in having a constellation + of genii in plush behind every chair, and then serving a dinner of hashed + mutton only. A great number of people believe that whatever Boswell may + have been, he was invariably accurate. But in this case he does not even + give a true account of the constellation of genius to which he refers. He + only says that Burke, Garrick, Beauclerk, and Johnson were called as + witnesses. He omits to say a word about Goldsmith, who was something of a + genius; or Reynolds, who was quite a tolerable painter; or Fitzherbert, + who had a wide reputation as a politician; or Dr. Halifax, whose evidence + carried certainly as much weight as Johnson's. He does not even say a word + respecting the evidence which Johnson and the others were called on to + give on behalf of the prisoner at the bar. What is the good of telling us + that the constellation of genius had never been paralleled within the + precincts of the “emphatically called Justice Hall” if we are not made + aware of some of the flashes of their genius when they were put into the + witness-box? + </p> + <p> + The truth is that Boswell had no sense of proportion any more than a sense + of the sublime and beautiful—or, for that matter, a sense of the + ridiculous. He was the Needy Knife Grinder—with an occasional axe of + his own—of the brilliant circle into which he crawled, holding on to + Johnson's skirts and half concealing himself beneath their capacious + flaps. He had constant stories suggested to him, but he failed to see + their possibilities. He was a knife grinder and nothing more; but at his + own trade he was admirable; he ground away patiently at his trivialities + respecting the man whom he never was within leagues of understanding, and + it is scarcely fair to reproach him for not throwing away his grindstone, + which he knew how to use, and taking to that of a diamond cutter, which he + was incapable of manipulating. But surely he might have told us something + more of the actual trial of Baretti instead of giving us page after page + leading up to the trial. + </p> + <p> + From other sources we learn that what all the geniuses were called on to + testify to was the pacific character of Baretti, and this they were all + able to do in an emphatic manner. It would seem that it was assumed that + the prisoner, a short-sighted, middle-aged man of letters, was possessed + of all the dangerous qualities of a bloodthirsty brigand of his own + country—that he was a fierce and ungovernable desperado, who was in + the habit of prowling about the purlieus of the Haymarket to do to death + with a fruit-knife the peaceful citizens whom he might encounter. He was a + foreigner, and he had killed an Englishman with an outlandish weapon. That + seems to have been the reason there was for the apprehension, which was + very general in respect of the fate of Baretti, for it was upon these + points that his witnesses were most carefully examined. + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith, Reynolds, and Garrick were very useful witnesses regarding the + knife. They affirmed that in carrying a fruit-knife the prisoner was in no + way departing from the recognised custom of his fellow-countrymen. He, in + common with them, was in the habit of eating a great deal of fruit, so + that the knife was a necessity with him. + </p> + <p> + Johnson's evidence was as follows: + </p> + <p> + “I have known Mr. Baretti a long time. He is a man of literature—a + very studious man—a man of great intelligence. He gets his living by + study. I have no reason to think he was ever disordered with liquor in his + life. A man that I have never known to be otherwise than peaceable and a + man that I take to be rather timorous. As to his eyesight, he does not see + me now, nor do I see him. I do not believe he would be capable of + assaulting anybody in the street without great provocation.” + </p> + <p> + It cannot be denied that the reference to Baretti's imperfect sight told + upon the jury, and uttered as the words were by Johnson in his dignified + way, they could scarcely fail to produce a profound effect upon the court. + </p> + <p> + Baretti was acquitted, and no one could presume to refer to him for the + rest of his life except as a quiet, inoffensive, frugivorous gentleman, + since these were the qualities with which he was endowed by a + constellation of geniuses on their oath. He was acquitted by the jury; but + the judge thought it well to say a few words to him before allowing him to + leave the dock, and the drift of his discourse amounted to a severe + censure upon his impetuosity, and the expression of a hope that the + inconvenience to which he was put upon this occasion would act as a + warning to him in future. + </p> + <p> + Really one could hardly imagine that in those days, when every week Mr. + Boswell had a chance of going to such an entertainment at Tyburn as he had + attended forty-eight hours before the opening of the Sessions, the taking + of the life of a human being was regarded with such horror. One cannot + help recalling the remark made by Walpole a few years later, that, owing + to the severity of the laws, England had been turned into one vast + shambles; nor can one quite forget the particulars of the case which was + quoted as having an intimate bearing upon this contention—the case + in which a young wife whose husband had been impressed to serve in His + Majesty's Fleet, and who had consequently been left without any means of + support, had stolen a piece of bread to feed her starving children, and + had been hanged at Tyburn for the crime. + </p> + <p> + Reading the judge's censure of Baretti, who had, in preventing a + contemptible ruffian from killing him, decreased by a unit the criminality + of London, the only conclusion that one can come to is that the courts of + law were very jealous of their precious prerogative to kill. Looking at + the matter in this light, the bombastic phrase of Boswell does not seem so + ridiculous after all; the Old Bailey had certainly good reason to be + regarded as the “awful Sessions House.” But we are not so fully convinced + that it had any right to be referred to as emphatically the Hall of + Justice. In the Georgian Pageant the common hangman played too conspicuous + a part. + </p> + <p> + But the unfortunate, if impetuous, Baretti left the court a free man, and + we cannot doubt that in the company of his friends who had stood by him in + his hour of trial he was a good deal harder upon the judge than the judge + had been upon him; and probably he was reproved in a grave and dignified + manner by Dr. Johnson, Sir Joshua Reynolds standing by with his ear + trumpet, fearful lest a single word of Johnson's wisdom should escape him. + Doubtless Mr. Garrick, the moment Johnson's back was turned, gave an + inimitable imitation of both Johnson and Baretti—perhaps of the + judge as well, and most likely the usher of the court. + </p> + <p> + Later on, when the avaricious Reynolds had hastened back to his studio in + Leicester Fields to daub on canvas the figures of some of his sitters at + the extortionate price of thirty-five guineas for a three-quarter length, + he and Johnson put their heads together to devise what could be done for + Baretti. + </p> + <p> + For about a year Baretti resumed his old way of living, working for the + booksellers and completing his volume of travel through Europe, by which + it is said he made £500. It would appear, however, that all his pupils had + transferred themselves to the enterprising gentleman who had appealed to + him at an inopportune moment for his recommendation, or to some of his + other brethren, for by the end of the year he was in needy circumstances. + Meantime he had been made by Sir Joshua Reynolds Honorary Secretary for + Foreign Correspondence to the Royal Academy, and then Johnson recommended + him to the husband of Mrs. Thrale as tutor to her girls at Streatham. This + was very kind to Baretti, but it was rather hard on the Thrales. + Apparently from the first day he went to Streatham his attitude in regard + to the Thrale family was one of spite and malevolence; and there can be no + doubt that Johnson bitterly regretted his patronage of a man who seemed + never to forgive any one who had done him a good turn. + </p> + <p> + The agreement made by him with the Thrales was that he should practically + be his own master, only residing at Streatham as a member of the family + with no fixed salary. He was as artful as an Irish cabman in suggesting + this “leave it to your honour” contract. He had heard on all hands of the + liberality of Mr. Thrale, and he knew that, in addition to being provided + with a luxurious home, he would receive presents from him far in excess of + what he could earn. He was extremely well treated for the next three + years, though he was for ever grumbling when he had a moment's leisure + from insulting the Thrales and their guests. Mrs. Thrale said more in his + favour than any one with whom he came in contact. She wrote: “His lofty + consciousness of his own superiority which made him tenacious of every + position, and drew him into a thousand distresses, did not, I must own, + ever disgust me, till he began to exercise it against myself, and resolve + to reign in our house by fairly defying the mistress of it. Pride, + however, though shocking enough, is never despicable; but vanity, which he + possessed too, in an eminent degree, will sometimes make a man near sixty + ridiculous.” + </p> + <p> + Assuredly Mrs. Thrale “let him down” very gently. Dr. Thomas Campbell, a + clergyman from Ireland, gives us a glimpse of Baretti's bearing at + Streatham. It is clear that Baretti was anxious to impress him with the + nature of his position in the house. “He told me he had several families + both in town and country with whom he could go at any time and spend a + month; he is at this time on these terms at Mr. Thrale's, and he knows how + to keep his ground. Talking, as we were at tea, of the magnitude of the + beer vessels, he said there was one thing at Mr. Thrale's house still more + extraordinary—his wife. She gulped the pill very prettily. So much + for Baretti!” wrote the clergyman in a very illuminating account of his + visit to Streatham. + </p> + <p> + But not only did Mrs. Thrale bear with this detestable person for nearly + two more years, but she and her husband took him with them and Johnson to + Paris, where they lived in a magnificent way, the Thrales paying for + everything. It was in a letter to Frank Levet, his domestic apothecary, + that Johnson, writing from Paris, said: “I ran a race in the rain this + day, and beat Baretti. Baretti is a fine fellow.” This is Johnson on + Baretti. Here is Baretti on Johnson; on a copy of the <i>Piozzi Letters</i> + he wrote: “Johnson was often fond of saying silly things in strong terms, + and the silly madam”—meaning Mrs. Thrale—“never failed to echo + that beastly kind of wit.” + </p> + <p> + It was not, however, until an Italian tour, projected by Mr. Thrale, was + postponed, that Baretti became quite unendurable. He had been presented by + Mr. Thrale with £100 within a few months, and on the abandonment of the + longer tour he received another £100 by way of compensation for the + satisfaction he had been compelled to forgo in showing his countrymen the + position to which he had attained in England. This was another act of + generosity which he could not forgive. He became sullen and more + cantankerous than ever, and neglected his duties in an intolerable way. In + fact, he treated Streatham as if it were an hotel, turning up to give Miss + Thrale a lesson at the most inconvenient hours, and then devoting the most + of his time to poisoning the girl's mind against her mother. Upon one + occasion he expressed the hope to her that if her mother died Mr. Thrale + would marry Miss Whitbred, who would, he said, be a pretty companion for + her, not tyrannical and overbearing as he affirmed her own mother was! + Truly a nice remark for a young lady's tutor to make to her under her + mother's roof. + </p> + <p> + The fact was, however—we have Baretti's own confession for it—that + he had been led to believe that after being with the Thrales for a year or + two, an annuity would be settled on him by the wealthy brewer, and he grew + impatient at his services to the family not obtaining recognition in this + way. It is extremely unlikely that Johnson ever even so much as hinted at + this annuity, though Baretti says his expectations were due to what + Johnson had told him; but it is certain that he had so exalted an opinion + of himself, he believed that after a year or two of desultory teaching he + should receive a handsome pension. And there the old story of the + car-driver who left the nomination of the fare to “his honour's honour” + was repeated. Baretti one morning packed up his bag and left Streatham + without a word of farewell. + </p> + <p> + Johnson's account of his departure and his comments thereupon are worth + notice. He wrote to Boswell: + </p> + <p> + “Baretti went away from Thrales in some whimsical fit of disgust or + ill-nature without taking any leave. It is well if he finds in any other + place as good an habitation and as many conveniences.” + </p> + <p> + On the whole it is likely that a good many of Baretti's friends felt + rather sorry than otherwise that the jury at the Old Bailey had taken so + merciful a view of his accident. If Johnson and Murphy were really + responsible for the line of defence which prevailed at the trial, one can + quite believe that the Thrales and a good many of their associates bore + them a secret grudge for their pains. + </p> + <p> + In the year 1782 he was granted by the Government the pension which he had + failed to extort from the Thrales. It amounted to £80 per annum, and we + may take it for granted that he had nothing but the most copious abuse for + the Prime Minister who had only given him £80 when Sheridan was receiving + £200 and Johnson £300. He drew his pension for seven years. + </p> + <p> + Baretti's portrait, painted by Reynolds for the Streatham gallery, fetched + £31 10s., the smallest price of any in the whole collection, on its + dispersal, years after the principal actors in the scene in the “awful + Sessions House” had gone to another world. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE FATAL GIFT + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HEN Mr. Boswell + had been snubbed, and very soundly snubbed too, by a Duchess, one might + fancy that his ambition was fully satisfied. But he was possibly the most + persevering of the order of <i>Pachydermata</i> at that time extant; and + in the matter of snubs he had the appetite of a leviathan. He was fired + with the desire to be snubbed once more by Her Grace—and he was. + Without waiting to catch her eye, he raised his glass and, bowing in her + direction, said: + </p> + <p> + “My Lady Duchess, I have the honour to drink Your Grace's good health.” + </p> + <p> + The Duchess did not allow her conversation with Dr. Johnson to be + interrupted by so flagrant a piece of politeness; she continued chatting + quite pleasantly to the great man, ignoring the little one. That was how + she had got on in life; and, indeed, a better epitome of the whole art of + getting on in life could scarcely be compiled even by the cynical nobleman + who wrote letters to his son instructing him in this and other forms of + progress—including the Rake's. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Boswell, who, as usual, is the pitiless narrator of the incident, + records his satisfaction at having attained to the distinction of a snub + from the beautiful creature at whose table he was sitting, and we are, as + usual, deeply indebted to him for giving us an illuminating glimpse of the + Duchess of whom at one time all England and the greater part of Ireland + were talking. He also mentions that Her Grace made use of an idiom by + which her Irish upbringing revealed itself. If we had not Mr. Boswell's + account of his visit to Inveraray to refer to we might be tempted to + believe that Horace Walpole deviated into accuracy when he attributed to + the Duchess of Argyll, as well as her sister, the Countess of Coventry, + the brogue of a bog-trotter. It was only by her employment of an idiom + common to the south and west of Ireland and a few other parts of the + kingdom, that Her Grace made him know that she had not been educated in + England, or for that matter in Scotland, where doubtless Mr. Boswell + fondly believed the purest English in the world was spoken. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> </a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0121.jpg" alt="0121 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0121.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + Mr. Boswell faithfully records—sometimes with glee and occasionally + with pride—many snubs which he received in the course of a lifetime + of great pertinacity, and some that he omitted to note, his contemporaries + were obliging enough to record; but on none did he reflect with more + satisfaction than that, or those, which he suffered in the presence of the + Duchess of Argyll. + </p> + <p> + It happened during that memorable tour to the Hebrides to which he lured + Johnson in order to show his countrymen how great was his intimacy with + the man who traduced them once in his Dictionary and daily in his life. It + was like Boswell to expect that he would impress the Scottish nation by + leading Johnson to view their fine prospects—he certainly was never + foolish enough to hope to impress Johnson by introducing the Scottish + nation to him. In due time, however, the exploiter and the exploited found + themselves in the neighbourhood of Inveraray, the Duke of Argyll's Castle, + and the stronghold of the Clan Campbell. + </p> + <p> + It chanced that the head of the great family was in residence at this + time, and Mr. Boswell hastened to apprise him of the fact that the great + Dr. Johnson was at hand. He called at the Castle very artfully shortly + after the dinner hour, when he believed the Duchess and her daughter would + have retired to a drawing-room. He was successful in finding the Duke + still at the dinner-table, the ladies having retired. In the course of the + interview the Duke said: “Mr. Boswell, won't you have some tea?” and Mr. + Boswell, feeling sure that the Duchess could not go very far in insulting + him when other people were present, followed his host into the + drawing-room. “The Duke,” he records, “announced my name, but the Duchess, + who was sitting with her daughter, Lady Betty Hamilton, and some other + ladies, took not the least notice of me. I should,” he continues, “have + been mortified at being thus coldly received by a lady of whom I, with the + rest of the world, have always entertained a very high admiration, had I + not been consoled by the obliging attention of the Duke.” + </p> + <p> + The Duke was, indeed, obliging enough to invite Johnson to dinner the next + day, and Mr. Boswell was included in the invitation. (So it is that the + nursery governess gets invited to the table in the great house to which + she is asked to bring the pretty children in her charge.) Of course, + Boswell belonged to a good family, and his father was a judge. It was to a + Duke of Argyll—not the one who was now so obliging—that the + Laird of Auchinleck brought his son, James Boswell, to be examined in + order to find out whether he should be put into the army or some other + profession. Still, he would never have been invited to Inveraray at this + time or any other unless he had had charge of Johnson. No one was better + aware of this fact than Boswell; but did he therefore decline the + invitation? Not he. Mr. Boswell saw an opportunity ahead of him. He had + more than once heard Johnson give an account of how he had behaved when + the King came upon him in the Royal Library; and probably he had felt + melancholy at the reflection that he himself had had no part or lot in the + incident. It was all Dr. Johnson and the King. But now he was quick to + perceive that when, in after years, people should speak with bated breath + of Dr. Johnson's visit to Inveraray they would be compelled to say: “And + Mr. Boswell, the son of auld Auchinleck, was there too.” + </p> + <p> + He knew very well that there were good reasons why Mr. Boswell could not + hope to be a <i>persona grata</i> to the Duchess of Argyll. In the great + Douglas lawsuit the issue of which was of considerable importance to the + Duke of Hamilton, the son of Her Grace, the Boswells were on the side of + the opposition, and had been very active on this side into the bargain. + James Boswell himself narrowly escaped being committed for contempt of + court for publishing a novel founded on the Douglas cause and anticipating + in an impudent way the finding of the judges. Had the difference been + directly with the Duke of Argyll some years earlier, no doubt every man in + the Clan Campbell would have sharpened his skene when it became known that + a friend of an opponent of the MacCallein More was coming, and have + awaited his approach with complacency; but now the great chief tossed + Boswell his invitation when he was asking Johnson, and Boswell jumped at + it as a terrier jumps for a biscuit, and he accompanied his friend to the + Castle. + </p> + <p> + The picture which he paints of his second snubbing is done in his best + manner. “I was in fine spirits,” he wrote, “and though sensible that I had + the misfortune of not being in favour with the Duchess, I was not in the + least disconcerted, and offered Her Grace some of the dish which was + before me.” Later on he drank Her Grace's health, although, he adds, “I + knew it was the rule of modern high life not to drink to anybody.” Thus he + achieved the snub he sought; but he acknowledges that he thought the + Duchess rather too severe when she said: “I know nothing of Mr. Boswell.” + On reflection, however, he received “that kind of consolation which a man + would feel who is strangled by a silken cord.” + </p> + <p> + It seems strange that no great painter has been inspired by the theme and + the scene. The days of “subject pictures” are, we are frequently told, + gone by. This may be so, generally speaking, but every one knows that a + “subject picture,” if its “subject” lends itself in any measure to the + advertising of an article of commerce, will find a ready purchaser, so + fine a perception of the aspirations of art—practical art—exists + in England, and even in Scotland, in the present day. + </p> + <p> + Now, are not the elements of success apparent to any one of imagination in + this picture of the party sitting round the table in the great hall of + Inveraray—Dr. Johnson chatting to the beautiful Duchess and her + daughter at one side, the Duke looking uncomfortable at the other, when he + sees Mr. Boswell on his feet with his glass in his hand bowing toward Her + Grace? No doubt Her Grace had acquainted His Grace with the attitude she + meant to assume in regard to Mi. Boswell, so that he was not astonished—only + uncomfortable—when Mr. Boswell fished for his snub. Surely + arrangements could be made between the art patron and the artist to paint + a name and a certain brand upon the bottle—a bottle must, of course, + be on the table; but if this is thought too realistic the name could + easily be put on the decanter—from which Mr. Boswell has just + replenished his glass! Why, the figure of Dr. Johnson alone should make + the picture a success—i.e. susceptible of being reproduced as an + effective poster in four printings. “Sir,” said Dr. Johnson, “claret for + boys, port for men, but brandy for heroes.” Yes, but whose brandy? There + is a hint for a great modern art patron—a twentieth-century art + patron is a man who loves art for what he can make out of it. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Johnson was unmistakably the honoured guest this day at Inveraray; and + perhaps, while the lovely Duchess hung upon his words of wisdom, his + memory may have gone back to a day when he was not so well known, and yet + by some accident found himself in a room with the then Duchess of Argyll. + Upon that occasion he had thought it due to himself to be rude to the + great lady, in response to some fancied remissness on her part. He had + nothing to complain of now. The Duchess with whom he was conversing on + terms of perfect equality—if Her Grace made any distinction between + them it was, we may rest assured, only in a way that would be flattering + to his learning—was at the head of the peerage for beauty, and there + was no woman in the kingdom more honoured than she had been. He may have + been among the crowds who hung about the Mall in St. James's Park + twenty-two years before, waiting patiently until the two lovely Miss + Gunnings should come forth from their house in Westminster to take the + air. The Duchess of Argyll was the younger of the two sisters. + </p> + <p> + The story of the capture of the town by the pair of young Irish girls has + been frequently told, and never without the word <i>romantic</i> being + applied to it. But really there was very little that can be called + romantic in the story of their success. There is far more of this element + in many of the marriages affecting the peerage in these unromantic days. + There is real romance in the story of a young duke's crossing the Atlantic + with a single introduction, but that to the daughter of a millionaire with + whom he falls madly in love and whom he marries as soon as the lawyers can + make out the settlements. There is real romance in the idyll of the young + marquis who is fortunate enough to win the affection of an ordinary chorus + girl; and every year witnesses such-like alliances—they used to be + called <i>mésalliances</i> long ago. There have also been instances of the + daughters of English tradesmen marrying foreign nobles, whom they + sometimes divorce as satisfactorily as if they were the daughters of + wealthy swindlers on the other side of the Atlantic. In such cases there + are portraits and paragraphs in some of the newspapers, and then people + forget that anything unusual has happened. As a matter of fact, nothing + unusual has happened. + </p> + <p> + In the romantic story of the Gunnings we have no elements of that romance + which takes the form of a <i>mésalliance</i>. Two girls, the + granddaughters of one viscount and the nieces of another, came to London + with their parents one year, and early the next married peers—the + elder an earl, the younger a duke. Like thousands of other girls, they had + no money; but, unlike hundreds of other girls who marry into the peerage, + they were exceptionally good-looking. + </p> + <p> + Where is there an element of romance in all this? The girls wedded men in + their own station in life, and, considering their good looks, they should + have done very much better for themselves. The duke was a wretched <i>roué</i>, + notable for his excesses even in the days when excess was not usually + regarded as noteworthy. He had ruined his constitution before he was + twenty, and he remained enfeebled until, in a year or two, he made her a + widow. The earl was a conceited, ill-mannered prig—a solemn, + contentious, and self-opinionated person who was deservedly disliked in + the town as well as the country. + </p> + <p> + Not a very brilliant marriage either of these. With the modern chorus girl + the earl is on his knees at one side, and the gas man on the other. But + with the Miss Gunnings it was either one peer or another. They were + connected on their mother's side with at least two families of nobility, + and on their father's side with the spiritual aristocracy of some + generations back: they were collateral descendants of the great Peter + Gunning, Chancellor of Oxford and Bishop of Ely, and he was able to trace + his lineage back to the time of Henry VIII. From a brother of this great + man was directly descended the father of the two girls and also Sir Robert + Gunning, Baronet, who held such a high post in the diplomatic service as + Minister Plenipotentiary to Berlin, and afterwards to St. Petersburg. + Members of such families might marry into the highest order of the peerage + without the alliance being criticised as “romantic.” The girls did not do + particularly well for themselves. They were by birth entitled to the best, + and by beauty to the best of the best. As it was, the one only became the + wife of a contemptible duke, the other of a ridiculous earl. It may really + be said that they threw themselves away. + </p> + <p> + Of course, it was Walpole's gossip that is accountable for much of the + false impression which prevailed in respect of the Gunnings. From the + first he did his best to disparage them. He wrote to Mann that they were + penniless, and “scarce gentlewomen.” He could not ignore the fact that + their mother was the Honourable Bridget Gunning; but, without knowing + anything of the matter, he undertook to write about the “inferior tap” on + their father's side. In every letter that he wrote at this time he tried + to throw ridicule upon them, alluding to them as if they were nothing + better than the barefooted colleens of an Irish mountain-side who had come + to London to seek their fortunes. As usual, he made all his letters + interesting to his correspondents by introducing the latest stories + respecting them; he may not have invented all of these, but some + undoubtedly bear the Strawberry Hill mark, and we know that Walpole never + suppressed a good tale simply because it possessed no grain of truth. + </p> + <p> + Now, the true story of the Gunnings can be ascertained without any + reference to Walpole's correspondence. Both girls were born in England—the + elder, Maria, in 1731, the younger in 1732. When they were still young + their father, a member of the English Bar, inherited his brother's Irish + property. It had once been described as a “tidy estate,” but it was now in + a condition of great untidiness. In this respect it did not differ + materially from the great majority of estates in Ireland. Ever since the + last “settlement” the country had been in a most unsettled condition, and + no part of it was worse than the County Roscommon, where Castle Coote, the + residence of the Gunning family, was situated. It might perhaps be going + too far to say that the wilds of Connaught were as bad as the wilds of + Yorkshire at the same date, but from all the information that can be + gathered on the subject there does not seem to have been very much to + choose between Roscommon and the wilder parts of Yorkshire. The peasantry + were little better than savages; the gentry were little worse. Few of the + elements of civilized life were to be found among the inhabitants. The + nominal owners of the land were content to receive tribute from their + tenantry in the form of the necessaries of life, for money as a standard + of exchange was rarely available. Even in the present day in many + districts in the west of Ireland cattle occupy the same place in the + imagination of the inhabitants as they do in Zululand. The Irish bride is + bargained away with so many cows; and for a man to say—as one did in + the very county of Roscommon the other day—that he never could see + the difference of two cows between one girl and another, may be reckoned + somewhat cynical, but it certainly is intelligible. + </p> + <p> + But if rent was owing—and it usually was—and if it was not + paid in the form of geese, or eggs, or pork, or some other products of low + farming and laziness, it remained unpaid; for the landlord had no means of + enforcing his claims by any law except the law of the jungle. He might + muster his followers and plunder his debtors, and no doubt this system of + rent-collecting prevailed for several years after one of the many + “settlements” of the country had taken place, yet by intermarriage with + the natives, and a general assimilation to their condition of life by the + newcomers, these raids for rent became unpopular and impracticable. The + consequence was that the landlords—such as remained on their estates—were + living from hand to mouth. + </p> + <p> + But if the fact that the King's writ failed to run in these parts was of + disadvantage to the landlords in one respect, it was of no inconsiderable + advantage to them in another; for it enabled them with a light heart to + contract debts in Dublin and in the chief towns. They knew that the + rascally process server, should he have the hardihood to make any attempt + to present them with the usual summons, would do so at the risk of his + life; and a knowledge of this fact made the “gentry” at once reckless and + lawless. The consequence was that Ireland was regarded as no place for a + man with any respect for his neighbours or for himself to live in. It + became the country of the agent and the squireen. + </p> + <p> + It was to one of the worst parts of this country that John Gunning brought + his wife and four children—the eldest was eight years and the + youngest three months—and here he tried to support them off the + “estate.” He might possibly have succeeded if his aspirations had been + humble and his property unencumbered. It so happened, however, that his + father had been the parent of sixteen children, and the estate was still + charged with the maintenance of ten of these. Thus hampered, Mr. Gunning + and the Honourable Bridget Gunning were compelled to adopt the mode of + life of the other gentry who were too poor to live out of Ireland, and + they allowed the education of their family to become a minor consideration + to that of feeding them. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Gunning and his wife were undoubtedly the originals of the type of + Irish lady and gentleman to be found in so many novels and plays of the + latter part of the eighteenth and the first half of the nineteenth + centuries. He was the original “heavy father” who, with the addition of a + ridiculous nondescript brogue, was so effectively dealt with by numerous + writers until Thackeray took him in hand; and Mrs. Gunning was the first + of the tradition of Irish mothers with daughters to dispose of by the aid + of grand manners and a great deal of contriving. True to this tradition, + which originated with them, the lady was certainly the head of the + household—a sorry household it must have been at Castle Coote—during + the ten years that elapsed before the migration to England. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Gunning was a fine figure of a gentleman, a handsome, loquacious + person with a great sense of his own dignity and an everlasting + consciousness of the necessity to maintain it at something approximate to + its proper level, and, like other persons of the same stamp, never + particularly successful in the means employed to effect this object. It is + doubtful if a loud conversational style, with repeated references to the + brilliant past of his family and predictions as to the still more + brilliant future that would have been achieved by its representative but + for the outrageous fortune that flung him into the bogs of Roscommon, + produced a more vivid impression upon his associates in Ireland than it + would be likely to do among a more credulous community. In Ireland he + resembled the young gentleman who went to educate the French, but was + discouraged at the outset when he found that even the children in the + streets spoke better French than he did. Mr. Gunning could teach the Irish + squireens nothing in the way of boasting; and he soon found that they were + capable of giving him some valuable instruction as to the acquiring of + creditors and their subsequent evasion. Whatever their educational + deficiencies may have been, it must be admitted that they had mastered + these arts. Much as he despised his ancestral home, he found, after + repeated visits to Dublin, that his heart was, after all, in Castle Coote, + and that, for avoiding arrest for debt, there was no place like home. + </p> + <p> + The Honourable Mrs. Gunning must have become dreadfully tired of this + florid person and of the constant worry incidental to the control of such + a household as his must have been. Her life must have been spent + contriving how the recurrent crises could be averted, and so long as she + was content to remain in the seclusion of the Irish village her efforts + were successful. We do not hear that the bailiffs ever got so far as the + hall door of their ramshackle mansion; there was a bog very handy, and the + holes which served as a rudimentary system of natural drainage were both + deep and dark. The topography of the district was notoriously puzzling to + the officers from the Dublin courts. + </p> + <p> + But with all her success in this direction one maybe pretty sure that her + life must have been very burthensome to the Honourable Mrs. Gunning. She + had social ambitions, as befitted a daughter of a noble house, and on this + account she never allowed herself to sink to the level of the wives of the + squireens around her, who were quite content with the rude jollity of an + Irish household—with the “lashings and leavings” to eat, and with + the use of tumblers instead of wineglasses at table. She was the daughter + of a peer, and she never forgot this fact; and here it must be mentioned + that, however culpably she may have neglected the education of her + children in some respects, she took care that they avoided the provincial + brogue of their Irish neighbours. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps it was because Walpole knew nothing of the tradition of the + English settlers in Ireland that he referred in his letters to various + correspondents to the appalling brogue of both the Gunning girls; or + perhaps he, as usual, aimed only at making his correspondence more amusing + by this device. But every one who knows something of the “settlements” is + aware of the fact that the new-comers had such a contempt for the native + way of pronouncing English that they were most strenuous in their efforts + to hand down to their children the tradition of pronunciation which they + brought into the country. They were not always so successful as they + wished to be; but within our own times the aspiration after a pure + “English accent” is so great that even in the National Schools the + teachers, the larger number of whom bear Celtic names, have been most + industrious both in getting rid of their native brogue and in compelling + their pupils to do the same; and yet it is certain that people have been + much more tolerant in this respect in Ireland during the past half-century + than they were a hundred years earlier. + </p> + <p> + Of course, a scientific analysis of the pronunciation of the English + language by, say, a native of the wilds of Yorkshire and by a native of + the wilds of Connemara would reveal the fact that fewer corruptions of the + speech are habitual to the latter than to the former, the “brogue” being + far less corrupt than the “burr.” It was not enough for the settlers, + however, that their children should speak English in Ireland more + correctly than their forefathers did in England; they insisted on the + maintenance of the English tradition of pronunciation, erroneous though it + might be. So that the suggestion that the daughters of the Gunning family, + who had never heard English spoken with the brogue of the native Irish + until they were eight or nine years of age, spoke the tongue of the stage + Irish peasant would seem quite ridiculous to any one who had given even + the smallest amount of study to the conditions of speech prevailing in + Ireland even in the present tolerant age, when employment is not denied to + any one speaking with the broadest of brogues. Some years ago such an + applicant would have had no chance of a “billet”—unless, in a + literal sense, to hew, with the alternative of the drawing of water. + </p> + <p> + The truth, then, is that the Gunning girls had practically neither more + nor less of that form of education to be acquired from the study of books + or “lessons” than the average young woman of their own day who had been + “neglected.” Between the years 1750 and 1800 there were in England + hundreds of young ladies who were as highly educated as a junior-grade + lady clerk in the Post Office Department is to-day; but there were also + thousands who were as illiterate as the Gunnings without any one thinking + that it mattered much one way or another. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0007" id="linkimage-0007"> </a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0139.jpg" alt="0139 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0139.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + And it really did not matter much that Maria Gunning spelt as vaguely as + did Shakespere, or Shakspere, or Shakespeare, or Shakspear, or whatever he + chose to write himself at the moment. Correctness of orthography is + absolutely necessary for any young lady who wishes to be a success in the + Postal Department, but Miss Gunning possessed some qualifications of + infinitely greater importance in the estimation of the world. She was of + good family and she was beautiful exceedingly. Moreover, she possessed the + supreme grace of naturalness—the supreme grace and that which + includes all other graces, which, like butterflies, hover over womankind, + but seldom descend in a bevy upon any one of the race. She was as natural + as a lily flower, and for the same reason. To be natural il came to her by + Nature, and that was how she won the admiration of more people than the + beauty of Helen of Troy brought to their death. She was not wise. But had + she been wise she would never have left Ireland. She would have known that + obscurity is the best friend that any young woman so beautiful as she was + could have. She would have remained in Roscommon, and she would have been + one of those women who are happy because they have no story. But, of + course, had she been wise she would not have been natural, and so there + her beauty goes by the board in a moment. + </p> + <p> + The Honourable Mrs. Gunning could not have been startled when the + knowledge came to her that she was the mother of two girls of exceptional + beauty. The same knowledge comes to every mother of two girls in the + world, though this knowledge is sometimes withheld from the rest of the + world; but even then the mother's faith is not shaken—except in + regard to the eyesight of the rest of the world. Doubtless Mrs. Gunning + thought much better of Ireland when she found that her judgment on the + beauty of her daughters was shared by all the people who saw the girls. + From the daily exclamation of wonder—the exaggerated expressions of + appreciation uttered by a fervent peasantry—when the girls were seen + in their own kitchen or on the roadside, the mother's ambition must have + received a fresh stimulus. And given an ambitious mother, whose life has + been one of contriving to do things that seem out of her power to + accomplish, the achievement of her object is only a matter of time—provided + that the father does not become an obstruction. Mrs. Gunning was not + extravagant in her longings. Her Delectable Mountains were those which + surround the City of Dublin. Her social ambitions did not extend beyond + “The Castle.” + </p> + <p> + When the eldest of her three daughters was scarcely nineteen the + aggregation of savings and credit—the latter predominant—seemed + sufficient to justify the expedition. A house was taken in a fashionable + street, close to the most splendid Mall in Europe, and furnished by some + credulous tradesmen, and the social campaign was begun by a parade of the + two girls and their mother. Alas! the young beauties attracted only too + much attention. The inquiries as to their style and title were + unfortunately not limited. In Dublin for generations the tradespeople have + been accustomed to take an intelligent and quite intelligible interest in + the aristocracy and beauty dwelling in their midst; and it took only a few + days for the report to go round that the exquisite young ladies were the + daughters of Mr. John Gunning, of Castle Coote. + </p> + <p> + This information meant much more to some of the least desirable of the + inquirers than it did to the wealthy and well connected of the population; + and among the least desirable of all were some tradesmen who for years had + had decrees waiting to be executed against Mr. Gunning at a more + convenient place for such services than Castle Coote. The result was that + within a week the beauty of his daughters had made such a stir in Dublin + that bailiffs were in the house and Mr. Gunning was out of it. + </p> + <p> + It is at this point in the history that the Troubadour unslings his lute, + feeling the potentialities of Romance in the air; and, given the + potentialities of Romance and the wandering minstrel, one may be sure that + the atmosphere will resound with Romance. We are told on such high + authority as is regarded quite satisfactory (by the Troubadour), that the + weeping of the mother and the beautiful girls under the coarse stare of + the bailiffs attracted the attention of a charming and sympathetic young + actress who was taking the air in the street, and that, as might only be + expected, she hastened to enter the house to offer consolation to those + who were in trouble—this being unquestionably the mission which is + most congenial to the spirit of the <i>soubrette</i>. On being at once + informed of all by the communicative mother—the Troubadour is not + such a fool as to lay down his lute to inquire if it was likely that a + lady who possessed her full share of Irish pride would open her heart to a + stranger and an actress—the young visitor showed her sympathy by + laying herself open to prosecution and imprisonment through helping in a + scheme to make away with all the valuables she could lay her hands on. But + she went still further, and invited the young ladies to stay at her house + so long as it suited them to do so. + </p> + <p> + We are told that this young actress was George Ann Bellamy, but the + information comes from no better source than George Ann Bellamy herself, + and the statements of this young person, made when she was no longer young + or reputable, do not carry conviction to all hearers. Romance, however, + like youth, will not be denied, though the accuracy of an actress may, and + people have always been pleased to believe that Miss Bellamy and Mr. + Thomas Sheridan, the much-harassed lessee of the Smock Alley Theatre in + Dublin, were the means of obtaining for the Honourable Mrs. Gunning and + her daughters the invitation to the ball at the Castle which resulted in + the recognition of the girls' beauty by the great world of fashion. The + suggestion that their aunt, Miss Bourke, or their uncle, Viscount Mayo, + might have been quite as potent a factor in solving the problem of how the + invitation to a ball given by the Viceroy to the people of Dublin came + into the hands of the Miss Gunnings, may, however, be worth a moment's + consideration. + </p> + <p> + At any rate, the success made by the girls upon this occasion was + immediate. Before a day had passed all Dublin and Dublin Castle were + talking of their beauty, and the splendid Mall was crowded with people + anxious to catch a glimpse of the lovely pair when they took their walks + abroad. Lady Caroline Petersham, the charming lady whose name figures + frequently in Walpole's correspondence—it will be remembered that + she was one of that delightful little supper party at Ranelagh which he + describes—was in the entourage of the Viceroy, and quickly perceived + the possibilities of social prestige accruing to the hostess who might be + the means of introducing them to St. James's. There a new face meant a new + sensation lasting sometimes well into a second month, and Lady Caroline + had her ambitions as a hostess. + </p> + <p> + She was the Gunnings' best friend—assuming that social advancement + is an act of friendship—and it may safely be assumed that she was + mainly responsible for the extension of the area of the campaign entered + on by Mrs. Gunning, and that it was her influence which obtained for them + the passage to Chester in the Lord Lieutenant's yacht, and a bonus of £150 + charged, as so many other jobs were, “upon the Irish Establishment.” The + “Irish Establishment” was the convenient Treasury out of which money could + be paid without the chance of unpleasant questions being asked in + Parliament respecting such disbursements. + </p> + <p> + Of course, it is not to be believed that such success as the young girls + encompassed in Dublin was reached without a word or two of detraction + being heard in regard to their behaviour. Mrs. Delany, amiable as a moral + gossip, or perhaps, a gossipy moralist, wrote to her sister respecting + them: “All that you have heard of the Gunnings is true, except their + having a fortune, but I am afraid they have a greater want than that, + which is discretion.” No doubt Mrs. Delany had heard certain whispers of + the girlish fun in which the elder of the sisters delighted; but there has + never been the smallest suggestion that her want of discreetness ever + approached an actual indiscretion. It may be assumed, without doing an + injustice to either of the girls, that their standard of demeanour was not + quite so elevated as that which the wife of Dean Delany was disposed to + regard as essential to be reached by any young woman hoping to be thought + well of by her pastors and masters. But the steelyard measure was never + meant to be applied to a high-spirited young girl who has grown up among + bogs and then finds herself the centre of the most distinguished circle in + the land, every person in which is eagerly striving for the distinction of + a word from her lips. Maria Gunning may not have had much discretion, but + she had enough to serve her turn. She arrived in London with her sister, + and no suggestion was ever made—even by Walpole—that their + mother had not taken enough care of them. + </p> + <p> + In London they at once found their place in the centre of the most + fashionable—the most notorious—set; but while we hear of the + many indiscreet things that were done by certain of their associates, + nothing worse is attributed to either of the girls than an Irish brogue or + an Irish idiom—perhaps a word or two that sounded unmusical to + fastidious ears. Walpole began by ridiculing them, and, as has already + been noted, sneering at their birth; but when he found they were becoming + the greatest social success that his long day had known, he thought it + prudent to trim his sails and refer to them more reasonably: they were + acquiring too many friends for it to be discreet for him to continue + inventing gossip respecting them. + </p> + <p> + But what a triumph they achieved in town! Nothing had ever been known like + it in England, nor has anything approaching to it been known during the + century and a half that has elapsed since the beauty of these two girls + captured London. The opening of Parliament by the King in State never + attracted such crowds as thronged the Park when they walked in the Mall. + Never before had the guards to turn out at the Palace to disperse the + crowds who mobbed two young ladies who did not belong—except in a + distant way—to a Royal House. Upon one occasion the young Lord + Clermont and his friend were compelled to draw their swords to protect + them from the exuberant attentions of the crowd. “'Tis a warm day,” wrote + George Selwyn to Lord Carlisle, “and some one proposes a stroll to Betty's + fruit shop; suddenly the cry is raised, 'The Gunnings are coming,' and we + all tumble out to gaze and to criticise.” + </p> + <p> + “The famous beauties are more talked of than the change in the Ministry,” + wrote Walpole. “They make more noise than any one of their predecessors + since Helen of Troy; a crowd follows them wherever they walk, and at + Vauxhall they were driven away.” + </p> + <p> + This mobbing must have caused the girls much delightful inconvenience, and + one can see their mother acting the part—and overdoing it, after the + manner of her kind—of the distracted parent whose daughters have + just been restored to her arms. One can hear the grandiloquent thanks of + the father to the eligible young man with titles whose bravery has + protected his offspring—that would have been his word—from the + violence of the mob. The parents must have been very trying to the young + men in those days. But the mother showed herself to be rather more than a + match for one young man who hoped to win great fame as a jocular fellow by + playing a trick upon the family. Having heard of the simplicity and + credulousness of the girls, this gentleman, with another of his kind, + asked leave of Mrs. Gunning to bring to her house a certain duke who was + one of the greatest <i>partis</i> of the day. On her complying, he hired a + common man, and, dressing him splendidly, conveyed him in a coach to the + Gunnings' house and presented him to the family as the duke. But the man + knew as little of the matter as did Walpole; he assumed that she was + nothing more than the adventurous wife of an Irish squireen. He soon found + out that he had made a mistake. Mrs. Gunning rang the bell, and ordered + the footman to turn the visitors out of the house. But the family were + soon consoled for this incident of the impostor duke by the arrival of a + real one, to say nothing of another consolation prize in the form of an + earl. In the meantime, however, their popularity-had been increasing + rather than diminishing. As a matter of fact, although beauty may be + reproached for being only skin deep, it is very tenacious of life. A + reputation for beauty is perhaps the most enduring of all forms of + notoriety. The renown that attaches to the man who has painted a great + picture, or to one who has made a great scientific discovery, or to one + who has been an eminent churchman or a distinguished statesman, is, in + point of popularity and longevity, quite insignificant in comparison with + that which is associated with the name of a very beautiful woman. The + crowds still surrounded the Miss Gunnings, and the visit which they paid + by command to King George II gave them a position in the world of fashion + that was consolidated by the report of the charming <i>naivete</i> of the + reply made by Maria when the King inquired if they had seen all the sights + of London and if there was any in particular which they would like to be + shown. “Oh, I should dearly like to see a coronation!” the girl is said to + have cried. And as that was just the sight for which the people of England + were most eager, she was acclaimed as their mouthpiece. + </p> + <p> + So they progressed in the career that had been laid out for them. Duels + were fought about them, and bets were made about them and their future. + For nearly a year there was no topic of the first order save only the + Progress of Beauty. The Duke had come boldly forward. He was a double duke—his + titles were Hamilton and Brandon—and he had sounded such depths of + depravity that he was possibly sincere in his desire to convince the world + that his taste in one direction had not become depraved. Elizabeth Gunning + may have accepted his service from a hope of being the means of reforming + him. But even if she were not to succeed in doing so, her mother would + have reminded her that her failure would not make her the less a duchess. + It is open, however, for one to believe that this girl cared something for + the man and was anxious to amend his life. + </p> + <p> + Then we hear of her being with him at Lord Chesterfield's ball given at + the opening of his new mansion, her fancy dress being that of a Quakeress. + Three days later the world in which they lived awoke to learn the + astounding news that the Duke of Hamilton and Brandon had married + Elizabeth Gunning the previous night. + </p> + <p> + Here was romance beyond a precedent; and Walpole romanced about it as + usual. In his account of the nuptials he succeeds in making more + misstatements than one would believe it possible even for such a worker in + the art to encompass in half a dozen lines. “When her mother and sister + were at Bedford House,” he wrote to Mann, “a sudden ardour, either of wine + or love, seized upon him (the Duke); a parson was promptly sent for, but + on arriving, refused to officiate without the important essentials of + licence or ring. The Duke swore and talked of calling in the Archbishop. + Finally the parson's scruples gave way, the licence was overlooked, and + the lack of the traditional gold ring was supplied by the ring of a bed + curtain!” + </p> + <p> + This is very amusing, but it is not history. It is a clumsy fiction, + unworthy of the resources of the inventor. Sir Horace Mann must have felt + that his friend had a poor opinion of his intelligence if he meant him to + accept the assurance that the household of the Gunnings and the fingers of + His Grace were incapable of yielding to the fastidious parson a better + substitute for the traditional gold ring than the thing he introduced. The + facts of the incident were quite romantic enough without the need for + Walpole's embellishments. It was Valentine's Day, and what more likely + than that the suggestion should be made by the ardent lover that so + appropriate a date for a wedding would not come round for another year! To + suggest difficulties—impossibility—would only be to spur him + on to show that he was a true lover. However this may be, it has long ago + been proved that the midnight marriage took place in due form at the + Curzon Street Chapel in the presence of several witnesses. + </p> + <p> + And then Walpole went on to say that the wedding of Lord Coventry and the + elder sister took place at the same time. It so happened, however, that a + fortnight elapsed between the two ceremonies, and in the case of the + second, the ceremony took place in the full light of day. + </p> + <p> + The subsequent history of the two ladies is not without a note of + melancholy. The elder, pursued to the end by the malevolent slanders of + the man with the leer of the satyr perpetually on his face, died of + consumption after eight years of wedded life. The younger became a widow + two years earlier, and after being wooed by the Duke of Bridgewater, whom + she refused, sending him to his canal for consolation, married Colonel + Campbell, who in 1770 became the Fifth Duke of Argyll. Six years later she + was created a peeress in her own right, her title being Baroness Hamilton + of Hameldon in Leicestershire. In 1778 she was appointed Mistress of the + Robes. She attained to the additional distinction of making the good Queen + jealous, so that Her Majesty upon one occasion overlooked her in favour of + Lady Egremont. The Duchess at once resigned, and only with difficulty was + persuaded to withdraw her resignation. She died in 1790. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE FÊTE-CHAMPÊTRE + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>O one knows to-day + with whom the idea of having an English <i>fête-champêtre</i> at The Oaks + upon the occasion of the marriage of the young Lord Stanley to Lady Betty + Hamilton originated. The secret was well kept; and it can be easily + understood that in case of this innovation proving a fiasco, no one would + show any particular desire to accept the responsibility of having started + the idea. But turning out as it did, a great success, it might have been + expected that many notable persons would lay claim to be regarded as its + parents. A considerable number of distinguished people had something to do + with it, and any one of them had certainly sufficient imagination, backed + up by an acquaintance with some of the exquisite pieces of MM. Watteau and + Fragonard, to suggest the possibility of perfecting such an enterprise + even in an English June. It was the most diligent letter-writer of that + age of letter-writing who had referred to the “summer setting in with its + customary severity,” so that the trifling of the month of June with the + assumption of the poets who have rhymed of its sunshine with rapture, was + not an experience that was reserved for the century that followed. But in + spite of this, the idea of a <i>fête-champêtre</i>, after the most + approved French traditions, in an English demesne found favour in the eyes + of Lord Stanley and his advisers, and the latter were determined that, + whatever price might have to be paid for it, they would not run the chance + of being blamed for carrying it out in a niggardly spirit. + </p> + <p> + The young Lord Stanley had as many advisers as any young nobleman with a + large immediate allowance and prospects of a splendid inheritance may hope + to secure. There was his <i>fiancée's</i> mother, now the Duchess of + Argyll, who was never disposed to frown down an undertaking that would + place a member of one of her families in the forefront of the battle of + the beauties for the most desirable <i>parti</i> of the year. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0008" id="linkimage-0008"> </a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0155.jpg" alt="0155 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0155.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + The Duchess had both taste and imagination, so that people called her an + Irishwoman, although she was born in England. Then there was Mr. George + Selwyn, who said witty things occasionally and never missed a hanging. He + was fully qualified to prompt a wealthy companion as to the best means to + become notorious for a day. There was also young Mr. Conway, the gentleman + who originated the diverting spectacle when Mrs. Baddeley and Mrs. + Abington were escorted to the Pantheon. Any one of these, to say nothing + of Lady Betty herself, who had some love for display, might have been + inclined to trust an English June so far as to believe an <i>al fresco</i> + entertainment on a splendid scale quite possible. + </p> + <p> + On the whole, however, one is inclined to believe that it was Colonel + Burgoyne who was responsible for the whole scheme at The Oaks. In addition + to having become Lord Stanley's uncle by running away with his father's + sister, he was a budding dramatist, and as such must have perceived his + opportunity for exploiting himself at the expense of some one else—the + dream of every budding dramatist. There is every likelihood that it was + this highly accomplished and successful “gentleman-adventurer” who brought + Lord Stanley up to the point of embarking upon his design for an + entertainment such as had never been seen in England before—an + entertainment that should include the production of a masque devised by + Colonel Burgoyne and entitled <i>The Maid of The Oaks</i>. The fête came + off, and it was pronounced the most brilliant success of the year 1774. + </p> + <p> + Lord Stanley was a very interesting young man; that is to say, he was a + young man in whom no inconsiderable number of persons—mainly of the + opposite sex—were greatly interested. Of this fact he seems to have + been fully aware. A good many people—mainly of the opposite sex—felt + very strongly on the subject of his marrying: it was quite time that he + married, they said. His grandfather, the Earl of Derby, was eighty-four + years of age, and it would be absurd to believe that he could live much + longer. Lord Stanley being his heir, it was agreed that it was the young + man's duty not to procrastinate in the matter of marriage. It is always + understood that a patriarchal nobleman sings “<i>Nunc dimittis</i>” when + he holds in his arms the second in direct succession to the title, and + this happy consummation could, in the case of the aged Lord Derby, only be + realised by the marriage of Lord Stanley. + </p> + <p> + He was small in stature, and extremely plain of countenance; still this + did not prevent his name from being coupled with that of several notable—but + not too notable—young women of his acquaintance. But as it was well + known that he was greatly interested in the stage, it was thought that, + perhaps, he might not be so complaisant as his best friends hoped to find + him in regard to marrying. An ardent interest in the progress of the + drama, especially in its lighter forms, has been known to turn a young + man's attention from marriage, when it does not do what is far worse—turn + his attention to it with too great zest. Before long, however, it became + apparent that his lordship recognised in what direction his duty lay. + There was a young lady connected with the Ducal House of Bedford—a + niece of that old Duchess who played so conspicuous a part in the social + and political history of the middle of the eighteenth century—and to + her Lord Stanley became devoted. But just when every one assumed that the + matter was settled, no one thinking it possible that the young lady would + be mad enough to refuse such a <i>parti</i>, the news came that she had + done so; and before people had done discussing how very eccentric were the + Bedford connections, the announcement was made that Lord Stanley was to + marry Lady Betty Hamilton, the beautiful daughter of a beautiful mother, + the Duchess of Argyll. + </p> + <p> + There is in existence a letter written by the Duchess to Sir William + Hamilton, in which she hints that Lord Stanley was an old suitor for the + hand of her daughter. “Lady Betty might have taken the name of Stanley + long ago if she had chose it,” she wrote, adding: “A very sincere + attachment on his side has at last produced the same on hers.” This being + so, it would perhaps be unsafe to assume that Lord Stanley proposed to + Lady Betty out of pique at having been rejected by the other lady, though + one might be disposed to take this view of the engagement. + </p> + <p> + The alternative view is that Lady Betty had been advised by her + accomplished mother that if she played her cards well there was no reason + why she should not so attract Lord Stanley as to lead him to be a suitor + for her hand, and that the girl at last came to see that the idea was + worth her consideration. Her portrait, painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds in + the year of her marriage, shows her to have been a graceful, girlish young + creature; but her beauty could never have been comparable with that of her + mother at the same age, or with that of her aunt, Lady Coventry, whom it + is certain she closely resembled in character. Her mother, in her letter + to Sir William Hamilton, apologises in a way for her liveliness, assuring + him that such a disposition was not incompatible with serious thought upon + occasions; and this gives us a hint that the reputation for vivacity which + she always enjoyed was closely akin to that which made the life of Lady + Coventry so very serious. + </p> + <p> + This was the young lady in whose honour the first English <i>fête + champêtre</i> was organised. To be more exact, or to get more into touch + with the view of the Derby family, perhaps one should say that the <i>fête</i> + was set on foot in consideration of the honour the young lady was doing + herself in becoming a member of the great house of Stanley. Different + people look at a question of honour from different standpoints. Probably + Colonel Burgoyne, although a member of the Derby family by marriage, left + honour out of the question altogether, and only thought of his masque + being produced at his nephew's expense. + </p> + <p> + And produced the masque was, and on a scale as expensive as the most + ambitious author could desire. It was described, with comments, by all the + great letter-writers of the time. Walpole has his leer and his sneer at + its expense (literally). It was to cost no less than £5000, he said, and + he ventured to suppose that in order to account for this enormous outlay + Lord Stanley had bought up all the orange trees near London—no + particular extravagance one would fancy—and that the hay-cocks would + be of straw-coloured riband. George Selwyn thought it far from diverting. + The Dowager Lady Gower affirmed that “all the world was there,” only she + makes an exception of her relations the Bedfords—she called them + “the Bloomsbury lot”—and said that the Duchess would not let any of + them go because Her Grace thought that Lord Stanley should have taken his + recent rejection by Her Grace's niece more to heart. Lady Betty's + stepfather, the Duke of Argyll, said that the whole day was so long and + fatiguing that only Lady Betty could have stood it all. + </p> + <p> + But did Lady Betty stand it all? It was rumoured in the best-informed + circles that she had broken off the match the next day; and when one + becomes acquainted with the programme of the day's doings one cannot but + acknowledge that the rumour was plausible. She probably made an attempt in + this direction; but on her fiancé's promising never to repeat the offence, + withdrew her resolution. + </p> + <p> + The famous brothers Adam, whose genius was equally ready to build an + Adelphi or to design a fanlight, had been commissioned to plan an + entertainment on the most approved French models and to carry it out on + the noblest scale, taking care, of course, that the central idea should be + the masque of <i>The Maid of The Oaks</i>, and these large-minded artists + accepted the order without demur. The pseudo-classical feeling entered, + largely through the influence of the Adams, into every form of art at this + period, though the famous brothers cannot be accused of originating the + movement. Sir Joshua Reynolds painted his most charming ladies in the + costume of Greeks, and Angelica Kauffmann depicted many of her early + English episodes with the personages clad in togas which seemed greatly + beyond their control. But for that matter every battle piece up to the + date of Benjamin West's “Death of Wolfe” showed the combatants in + classical armour; and Dr. Johnson was more than usually loud in his + protests against the suggestion that a sculptor should put his statues of + modern men into modern clothing. + </p> + <p> + But the Adams were wise enough to refrain from issuing any order as to the + costume to be worn by the shepherds and shepherdesses who were to roam the + mead at The Oaks, Epsom, upon the occasion of this <i>fête champêtre</i>; + and they were also wise enough to distrust the constancy of an English + June. The result was (1) a charming medley of costume, though the + pseudo-pastoral peasants, farmers, gardeners, and shepherds were in the + majority, and (2) the most interesting part of the entertainments took + place indoors, the octagonal hall lending itself nobly—when improved + by Messrs. Adam—to the show. The “transparencies” which constituted + so important a part of the ordinary birthday celebrations of the time, + took the form of painted windows, and, later, of a device showing two of + the conventional torches of Hymen in full blaze, supporting a shield with + the Oak of the Hamiltons' crest and the usual “gules.” + </p> + <p> + This design occupied the place of the “set piece” which winds up a modern + display of fireworks and sets the band playing “God save the King.” It + could not have been brought on until the morning sunlight was flooding the + landscape outside; for supper was not served until half-past eleven, and + the company had to witness the representation of an intolerably long + masque—the second of the day—after supper, with a procession + of Druids, fauns, cupids, and nymphs, all in suitable, but it is to be + hoped not traditional, costume. + </p> + <p> + The entertainment began quite early in the afternoon, when there was a + long procession of shepherds and shepherdesses through the lanes to where + a pastoral play was produced and syllabub drunk under the trees. But this + was only an <i>hors d'ouvre</i>; it was not Colonel Burgoyne's + masterpiece. This was not produced in the open air. Only when further + refreshments had been served and evening was closing in did the guests, + who had been sauntering through the sylvan scenes, repair to the great + hall, which they found superbly decorated and, in fact, remodelled, for + colonnades after the type of those in the pictures of Claude had been + built around the great ballroom, the shafts being festooned with roses, + and the drapery of crimson satin with heavy gold fringes. There were not + enough windows to make excuses for so much drapery, but this was no + insuperable obstacle to the artful designers; they so disposed of the + material as to make it appear that it was the legitimate hanging for six + windows. + </p> + <p> + For the procession through the colonnades the young host changed his + costume and his fiancée changed hers. He had appeared as Rubens and she as + Rubens' wife, from the well-known picture. But now she was dressed as + Iphigenia. They led the first minuet before supper, and it was thought + that they looked very fine. No one who has seen the two pictures of the + scene, for which Zucchi was commissioned, can question this judgment. Lady + Betty's portrait in one of these panels makes her even more beautiful than + she appears on Sir Joshua's canvas. + </p> + <p> + With a display of fireworks of a detonating and discomposing type—the + explosion, it was said, affected the nerves of nearly all the guests—and + the illumination of the “transparency” already alluded to, this memorable + fête came to no premature conclusion. Every one was bored to death by so + much festivity coming all at once. The idea of twelve hours of masques and + minuets is enough to make one's blood run cold. Its realisation may have + had this effect upon the heroine of the day, hence the rumour that she + found she had had enough of the Derby family to last her for the rest of + her life without marrying the young heir. Unfortunately, however, if this + was the case, she failed to justify the accuracy of the report; and she + was married to Lord Stanley on the 23rd of the same month. + </p> + <p> + The union of Maria Gunning with the Earl of Coventry was a miserable one, + but this of her niece and Lord Stanley was infinitely worse. Lady Betty + soon found out that she had made a mistake in marrying a man so incapable + of appreciating her charm of manner as was Lord Stanley. The likelihood is + that if she had married any other man she would have made the same + discovery. The vivacity for which her mother apologised to Sir William + Hamilton was, after her marriage, much more apparent than the + thoughtfulness which the Duchess assured her correspondent was one of her + daughter's traits. She showed herself to be appallingly vivacious upon + more than one occasion. Just at that time there was a vivacious “set” in + Lady Betty's world, and every member of it seemed striving for leadership. + Few of the ladies knew exactly where the border line lay between vivacity + and indiscretion. If Lady Betty was one of the better informed on this + delicate question of delimitation, all that can be said is that she + overstepped the line upon several occasions. It is not to be thought that + her lightness ever bordered into actual vice, but it rarely fell short of + being indiscreet. + </p> + <p> + She was always being talked about—always having curious escapades, + none of them quite compromising, but all calculated to make the judicious + grieve. But it is one thing to be subjected to the censure of the + judicious and quite another to come before a judicial authority, and it is + pretty certain that if Lady Derby—her husband succeeded to the title + two years after his marriage—had incriminated herself, she would + have been forced to defend a divorce suit. + </p> + <p> + It is, however, likewise certain that for some time she kept hovering like + a butterfly about the portals of the Court, and a good deal of the bloom + was blown off her wings by the breath of rumour. She had accepted the + devotion of the Duke of Dorset, and, considering the number of eyes that + were upon her and the devotion of His Grace, this was a very dangerous + thing to do. They were constantly seen together and at all hours. This was + in the second year of her marriage, but even in the first her desire to + achieve notoriety by some means made itself apparent. But her escapade + that was most talked about was really not worthy of the gossip of a Gower. + She was at a ball at the house of Mrs. Onslow in St. James's Square, and + her chair not arriving in good time to take her back to Grosvenor Square, + it was suggested by Lord Lindsay and Mr. Storer that they should borrow + Mrs. Onslow's chair and carry her between them to her home. She agreed to + this gallant proposal, and off they set together. The young men bore her + to her very door in spite of the fact that they had met her own chair soon + after they had left Mrs. Onslow's porch. + </p> + <p> + There was surely not much of an escapade in this transaction. The truth + was probably that the chair did not arrive owing to the condition of the + bearers, and when the young gentlemen met it they refused to jeopardise + the safety of the lady by transferring her from Mrs. Onslow's chair to her + own. + </p> + <p> + Rumour, however, was only too anxious to put the worst construction upon + every act of the merry Countess, and it was doubtless because of this, and + of her own knowledge of her daughter's thoughtlessness, that the Duchess + of Argyll appeared upon the scene and endeavoured by her presence and + advice to avert the catastrophe that seemed imminent. The Duchess insisted + on accompanying her to every entertainment, and succeeded in keeping a + watchful eye on her, though the Duke, who was at Inveraray, and was + doubtless tired of hearing of the vivacity of his stepdaughter, wrote + rather peremptorily for Her Grace to return to Scotland. She did not obey + the summons, the fact being that she was devoted to this daughter of hers, + who must have daily reminded her of her own sister Maria, to whom she had + been so deeply attached. * + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * It was said that she had refused the offer of the Duke of + Bridgewater, because of his suggestion that she should break + off all intercourse with Lady Coventry. +</pre> + <p> + Seeing, however, that she could not continue to look after this lively + young matron, and being well aware of the fact that Lord Derby would never + consent to live with her again, the Duchess could do no more than condone + the separation which was inevitable. The deed was drawn up in 1779, five + years after Lady Betty had been so inauspiciously bored by the <i>fête + champêtre</i>. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0009" id="linkimage-0009"> </a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0171.jpg" alt="0171 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0171.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + In the meantime there was a good deal of talk about the Earl of Derby + himself. A young nobleman who takes a lively, or even a grave, interest in + the personnel of the theatre is occasionally made the subject of vulgar + gossip. Lord Derby had a reputation as an amateur actor, and he seemed to + think that it would be increased by association with professional + actresses. It is doubtful if he was justified in his views on this + delicate question. At any rate, rightly or wrongly, on his estrangement + from his wife, but two years before the final separation, he showed a + greater devotion than ever to dramatic performances and dramatic + performers. His uncle by marriage, now General Burgoyne, had written a + play that turned out an extraordinary success. This was <i>The Heiress</i>, + and it had received extravagant praise in many influential quarters. It + was while it was still being talked of in society that a company of + distinguished amateurs undertook to produce it at Richmond House, in + Whitehall Place. In order that the representation might be as perfect as + possible, the Duchess of Richmond engaged the actress who had taken the + chief part in the original production, to superintend the rehearsals of + her amateurs. Miss Farren was a young person of considerable beauty, and + more even than an actress's share of discretion. She was in George + Colman's company at the Haymarket, and was rapidly taking the place of + Mrs. Abington in the affections of playgoers. She was the daughter of a + surgeon in a small way—he may have been one of the barber surgeons + of the eighteenth century. Marrying an actress (also in a small way), he + adopted the stage as a profession, and became a strolling actor-manager, + whenever he got the chance, and died before his drinking habits had quite + demoralised his family. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Farren was a wise woman—wise enough to know that she was a bad + actress, but that there were possibilities in her two daughters. It was + after only a brief season of probation that Colman engaged one of the + girls to do small parts, promoting her in an emergency to be a + “principal.” Miss Farren proved herself capable of making the most of her + opportunity, and the result was that within a year she was taking Mrs. + Abington's parts in the best comedies. + </p> + <p> + Her mother was sensible enough to perceive that there was room in the best + society for an actress of ability as well as respectability—up to + that time the two qualities had seldom been found associated—and + Mrs. Farren was right. No whisper had ever been heard against the young + lady, and a judicious introduction or two brought her into many + drawing-rooms of those leaders of society who were also respectable, and + this was of advantage to her not only socially, but professionally. Horace + Walpole was able to write of her: “In distinction of manner and refinement + she excelled Mrs. Abington, who could never go beyond Lady Teazle, which + is a second-rate character.” Again, in a letter to Lady Ossory, he + ascribed the ability of Miss Farren to the fact that she was accustomed to + mingle with the best society. + </p> + <p> + This theory of Walpole's has been frequently controverted since his day, + and now no one will venture to assert that there is really anything in it, + although it sounds plausible enough. Miss Farren had, however, ample + opportunity of studying “the real thing” and of profiting by her study. + She found herself on the most intimate footing with duchesses—not of + the baser sort like her of Ancaster, or of the eccentric sort like her of + Bedford, but of the most exalted. The Duchess of Richmond and the Duchess + of Leinster were among her friends, and thus it was that her appearance at + the rehearsals of <i>The Heiress</i> of Whitehall Place was not wholly + professional. Upon this occasion she met Lord Derby and also Charles James + Fox, the latter having accepted the rather onerous duties of stage + manager. Before any of the performers were letter perfect in their + dialogue, Miss Farren had captured the hearts of both these men. Having + some of the qualities necessary to success as a statesman, including + caution and an instinct as to the right moment to retire from a contest + that must end in some one being made a fool of, Mr. Fox soon withdrew from + a position of rivalry with Lord Derby. It was rumoured by the malicious, + who had at heart the maintenance of the good name of Miss Farren, that Mr. + Fox had been dismissed by the lady with great indignation on his making a + proposition to her that did not quite meet her views in regard to the + ceremony of marriage. Miss Farren they asserted to be a paragon of virtue, + and so she undoubtedly was. Her virtue was of the most ostentatious type. + She would never admit a gentleman to an audience unless some witness of + her virtue was present. She accepted the devotion of Lord Derby, but gave + him to understand quite plainly that so long as his wife was alive she + could only agree to be his <i>fiancée</i>. Truly a very dragon of virtue + was Miss Farren! + </p> + <p> + The Earl, previous to his meeting the actress, had been a dutiful if not a + very devoted husband. But as soon as he fell in love with this paragon of + virtue he became careless, and made no attempt to restrain his wife in her + thoughtless behaviour. He allowed her to go her own way, and he went his + way. His way led him almost every evening to the green room at the + Haymarket and Drury Lane, where Miss Farren was to be found. The + estrangement between himself and his wife that resulted in the final + separation was the result not of his infatuation for the actress, but of + her virtuous acceptance of him as her moral lover. She took care never to + compromise herself with him or any one else, but she did not mind taking + the man away from his wife and home in order that she might be accredited + with occupying an absolutely unique position in the annals of the English + stage. + </p> + <p> + If Miss Farren had been a little less virtuous and a little more human she + would run a better chance of obtaining the sympathy of such people as are + capable of differentiating between a woman's virtue and the virtues of + womankind. She seemed to think that the sole duty of a woman is to be + discreet in regard to herself—to give no one a chance of pointings + finger of scorn at her; and it really seemed as if this was also the creed + of the noble people with whom she associated. Every one seemed to be so + paralysed by her propriety as to be incapable of perceiving how + contemptible a part she was playing. An honest woman, with the instincts + of goodness and with some sense of her duty, would, the moment a married + man offers her his devotion, send him pretty quickly about his business. + The most elementary sense of duty must suggest the adoption of such a + course of treatment in regard to an illicit admirer. But Miss Farren had + no such sense. She met the philandering of her lover with smiles and a + virtuous handshake. She accepted his offer of an adoring friendship for + the present with a reversion of the position of Countess of Derby on the + death of the existing holder of the title and its appurtenances; and + people held her up, and continue to hold her up, as an example of all that + is virtuous and amiable in life! + </p> + <p> + She was also commended for her patience, as Lord Derby was for his + constancy. They had both great need of these qualities, for the unhappy + barrier to their union showed no signs of getting out of their way, either + by death or divorce. She became strangely discreet, taking, in fact, a + leaf out of Miss Farren's book of deportment, and never giving her husband + a chance of freeing himself from the tie that bound him nominally to her. + It must have been very gratifying to the actress to perceive how effective + was the example she set to the Countess in regard to the adherence to the + path of rectitude. + </p> + <p> + What was the exact impression produced upon Lord Derby by all this decorum + it would be difficult to say. He may have been pleased to discover that he + was married to a lady to whom his honour was more precious than he had any + reason or any right to believe it to be. But assuredly a less placid + gentleman would have found himself wishing now and again that—well, + that matters had arranged themselves differently. + </p> + <p> + The years went by without bringing about a more satisfactory <i>modus + vivendi</i> than was in existence when Lord Derby originally offered his + heart and hand (the latter when it should become vacant) to the actress. + Lady Derby was in wretched health, but still showed no more inclination to + die than does a chronic invalid. Miss Farren continued to drive her + splendid chariot, with its coachmen on the hammer-cloth and its footmen + clinging on to the straps behind, down to the stage-door of the theatre, + and to fill the house every night that she played. Her popularity seemed + to grow with years, and she appeared in a wide range of characters, making + her audiences accept as correct her reading of every part, though the best + critics—Walpole was about the worst—of her art had a good deal + to say that was not quite favourable to her style. Only once, however, did + she make a flagrant error on the stage, and this was when she was + misguided enough to put on men's garments in representing the part of + Tracy Lovell in Colman's play, <i>The Suicide</i>. + </p> + <p> + By this unhappy exhibition which she made of herself she disillusioned + those of her admirers who fancied that she was a model of grace from the + sole of her feet to the crown of her head. She never repeated this + performance. Had she done so in Lord Derby's presence, his constancy would + have been put to a severer test than any to which he had been previously + subjected. The best judges of what constitutes grace in a woman were + unanimous in their advice to the lady never to forsake the friendly + habiliments which she was accustomed to wear, and never to allow her + emulation of the perpetually chaste goddess to lead her to adopt even for + an hour the convenient garb in which she went a-hunting. + </p> + <p> + And while his fiancée was moving from triumph to triumph, putting every + other actress in the shade, the Earl of Derby was putting on flesh. But as + his flesh became more visible so did his faith. He was a model of + fidelity. His name was never associated with the name of any other lady—not + even that of his wife—during his long years of probation, and twenty + years form a rather protracted period for a man to wait in order to marry + an actress. It was not to be wondered if the spectacle of the devoted + young peer waiting for the beautiful girl in the green room, which was + allowed to the habitués of that fascinating apartment during the earlier + years of this strange attachment, produced quite a different effect upon + people from that which was the result of witnessing a somewhat obese, + elderly gentleman panting along by the side of a chaste lady of forty. Nor + was it remarkable that, on seeing one day by the side of Miss Farren, a + gallant young man whose walk and bearing suggested to elderly spectators a + rejuvenated Lord Stanley, they should rub their eyes and ask what miracle + was this that time and true love had wrought. + </p> + <p> + The only miracle that time had wrought was to make the son of the Earl of + Derby twenty-one years of age and rather interested in the personnel of + green rooms. He had been introduced to Miss Farren by his father; but to + his honour be it said, he made no attempt to take his father's place in + regard to the lady, except as her escort to her house in Green Street. The + gossip that suggested such a possibility was just what one might expect to + find in one of Walpole's letters. + </p> + <p> + At last the shameful, if virtuous, devotion of twenty years was rewarded + by the announcement of the death of the wretched Countess whose desertion + dated from the day her husband met the actress. Miss Farren, with that + extraordinary bad taste which characterised every period of her intimacy + with Lord Derby, took an ostentatious farewell of the stage, and proved by + the faltering of her voice, her emotion, and her final outburst in tears, + that time had not diminished from the arts of her art. Of course, there + was a scene of intense emotion in the theatre, which was increased when + King led her forward and Wroughton spoke a rhymed and stagey farewell in + her presence. Four of its lines were these: + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + But ah! this night adieu the joyous mien, + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + When Mirth's lov'd fav'rite quits the mimic scene, + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + Startled Thalia would th'assent refuse, + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + But Truth and Virtue sued and won the Muse. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + Truth and Virtue—these were the patrons of the compact by which Miss + Farren waited for twenty years for the death of the wife of the man whom + she had promised to marry—when she could. + </p> + <p> + The scene in the green room when the actress came off the stage was an + unqualified success. Tears flowed freely, making channels as they + meandered down the paint; sobs came from the actresses who hoped to get a + chance of doing some of her parts now that she had left the stage; and + Miss Farren herself showed that she knew what were the elements of a + proper climax, by fainting with a shriek, in the midst of which she made + an exit supported by all the actors who were not already supporting some + of the hysterical ladies in the background. They all deserved to have + their salaries raised. The whole scene was a triumph—of art. + </p> + <p> + The exact chronology of the crisis is worth noting. Lady Derby died on + March 4th, and was buried on April 2nd. On April 8th Miss Farren took her + farewell of the stage, and on May 1st she was married to the Earl of + Derby. A satisfactory explanation of the indecent delay in the celebration + of the marriage was forthcoming: his lordship had been suffering from an + attack of gout. + </p> + <p> + But if no one ventured to cast an aspersion upon his character or to + accuse him of shilly-shallying in regard to the postponement of his + nuptials until his wife had been nearly a whole month in her grave, there + was a good deal of funny gossip set loose when, after a honeymoon of two + days, the Earl and the Countess returned to London. This also was + satisfactorily explained: the Countess was devoted to her mother! + </p> + <p> + The marriage proved a very happy one, and thirty-two years passed before + the Countess died. Her husband survived her by five years. He died in + 1834, fifty-seven years after his first meeting with the actress, and + forty-seven since he instituted “The Derby” race meeting, winning the + first cup by his horse Sir Peter Teazle. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE PLOT OF A LADY NOVELIST + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>N the year 1790-1 + there was played in real life a singularly poor adaptation of an unwritten + novel by one of the Minifie sisters—those sentimental ladies who, + during the last quarter of the eighteenth century, provided the + circulating libraries with several volumes of high-flown fiction. The + adaptation of this unwritten novel possessed a good many of the most + prominent features of the original, so that when it was brought to light + there could be very little doubt as to the brain out of which it had been + evolved. The result of the performance was so unsatisfactory as to compel + one to believe that the worst possible way of producing a novel is to + adapt it to suit the requirements of one's relations, forcing them to play + in real life and in all earnest the parts assigned to them by the inventor + of the plot. + </p> + <p> + Miss Minifie, the second of the sentimental sisters, had married in the + year 1769 Colonel John Gunning, the brother of the two beautiful girls one + of whom became Duchess of Hamilton, and later Duchess of Argyll, and the + other Countess of Coventry. The result of the union was a daughter of + considerable plainness, and people said that in this respect she resembled + her mother's rather than her father's family. It seems that while the + Gunning tradition was beauty, the Minifie tradition was a nose, and it + soon became apparent that it was impossible to combine the two with any + satisfactory artistic results. The young lady had made an honest attempt + to do so, but her failure was emphatic. She had eyes that suggested in a + far-off way the long-lashed orbs of her aunts, but that unlucky Minifie + nose was so prominent a feature that it caused the attention of even the + most indulgent critic to be riveted upon it, to the exclusion of the rest + of her face. The charitably-disposed among her friends affirmed that she + would be passably good-looking if it were not for her nose; the others + said that she would be positively plain if it were not for her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Her father was probably that member of his family who had least brains: + they made a soldier of him, and he married a lady novelist, closing an + inglorious career by running off with his tailor's wife and having a writ + issued against him for £5000. He took care to be at Naples, outside the + jurisdiction of the English court, when it was issued, and he died before + it could be served on him, which suggests that he may not have been so + devoid of brains after all. + </p> + <p> + Her mother (<i>née</i> Minifie) seems to have entertained the idea of + making the girl work out a “plot” for her when she arrived at the + regulation age of the sentimental heroine of those days, and this plot she + invented with all her accustomed absence of skill. Her materials were a + “glorious child”—this was how she described her daughter—with + a gifted mother; a young cousin, heir to a dukedom and a large estate; + and, lastly, the Gunning tradition. Could any novelist ask for more? A + short time afterwards she did, however, and this was just where her art + failed her. She did much to discourage the writers of fiction from + endeavouring to work out their plots in real life. + </p> + <p> + Catherine Gunning, the “glorious child,” being the niece of the Duchess of + Argyll, her cousin was, of course, the Marquis of Lome; and as the Duchess + had always kept up an intimate connection with the members of her father's + family, even to the second generation, her son, Lord Lome, and Catherine + Gunning had been a good deal together, not only when they were children, + but also when they had reached the age when the novel-writer's hero and + heroine begin to blossom. The girl's mother, doubtless having an idea that + these very live young people were as plastic as the creatures of her + fancy, thought to hasten on the <i>dénouement</i> of her story by + whispering it to her friends. She whispered into more than one ear that + Lord Lome and her daughter were betrothed, and such friends as received + this information, strictly <i>sub rosa</i>, took care to spread it abroad—strictly + <i>sub rosa</i> also. Now the aggregation of many confidential reports of + this sort is what is termed “news,” so that in the course of a short time + it was common property that Lord Lome was to marry his cousin, Catherine + Gunning. + </p> + <p> + Congratulations reached the young lady, which she neither quite accepted + nor altogether rejected. She seems to have learned from her mother's + novels that in such matters it is wisest for a young woman to be silent + but pensive. And on the whole her behaviour was fairly consistent with + that of the heroine which her mother meant her to be. Indeed, all that was + needed to enable her to take the place of the heroine of a pleasant little + love story was the proposal of the hero; and unhappily this formality had + still to be reckoned with. Lord Lome had so paltry an appreciation of what + was due to the art of the fiction-writer that he declined to play the part + of the young hero of the story, and when people approached him on the + subject he said that he had heard nothing about being accepted by Miss + Gunning, and that he could not possibly be accepted until he had proposed + to her. He seems to have acted with the discretion one would have looked + for from the son of the Duchess of Argyll, and in the course of the year + the reports of the possible union dwindled away, and people began to feel + that their friends were untrustworthy gossips to have circulated a report + solely on the evidence of a young lady's pensiveness. + </p> + <p> + This was, however, as it turned out, but the opening chapter in the + romance which the novelist-mother was working out. Indeed, it scarcely + bears to be considered as a regular chapter, it was rather the prologue to + the comedy which was played two years later with the same heroine, but for + obvious reasons with a different hero. In the prologue there was scarcely + visible any of the art of the novelist; in the comedy itself, however, her + hand is constantly apparent, controlling the movements of at least one of + her puppets; and very jerkily, too, that hand pulled the strings. The + clumsiness in the construction of the plot prevented any one from + sympathising with the authoress and stage-manager of the piece when its + failure became known to the world in general, and to Horace Walpole in + particular. Walpole could pretend a good deal. He pretended, for instance, + that he knew at once that the Rowley poems, sent to him by Chatterton, + were forgeries; and he pretended that he knew nothing of the marriage of + his niece to the Duke of Gloucester until the public were apprised of the + fact. He could not, however, even pretend that he sympathised with the + failure of the Minifie plot. On the contrary, he gloats over the disgrace + which, he declared, on this account fell upon the Gunning family. He hated + the whole Gunning family, and he was plainly in ecstasies of delight when + he believed that ruin had come upon them. “The two beautiful sisters were + exalted almost as high as they could go,” he wrote. “Countessed and double + duchessed, and now the family have dragged themselves down into the very + dirt.” + </p> + <p> + The “family” had of course done nothing of the sort. One member of the + family had allowed herself to be made a fool of at the suggestion of her + very foolish mother; her father had also been indiscreet, but there is a + wide difference between all this and the family of Gunning “dragging + themselves into the very dirt.” The result of the tricks of the lady + novelist to marry her daughter to the heir to a dukedom was only to make + every one roar with laughter, and no doubt the fatuous ladies felt greatly + annoyed. But the Marquis of Lome did not seem to take the matter greatly + to heart, and he was a member of the Gunning family; nor did the Duke of + Hamilton show himself to be greatly perturbed, though he must have been + somewhat jealous of the honour of the family to which his mother belonged. + The position that the Gunning family had taken among the greatest families + in the land rested upon too solid a foundation to be shaken by the + foolishness of a lady novelist, who had married a Gunning. And now people + who read the story of the “dragging in the dirt” only shrug their + shoulders at the ridiculous figure cut by the actors in the shallow and + sordid comedy, and laugh at the spiteful gibe of the prince of gossips, + who played a congenial part in damning the product of the Minifie brain. + </p> + <p> + Two years after the failure of the Lome plot startling whispers were once + again heard in regard to Miss Gunning and the heir to another dukedom. + This time it was the Marquis of Blandford who attracted the Minifie fancy. + He was the Duke of Marlborough's heir, and was twenty-three years of age. + Of course it was Mrs. Gunning (<i>née</i> Minifie) who was the first to + make the announcement that the young people were greatly attached; and + then followed—after the interval of a chapter or two—the lady + novelist's declaration to her niece, a Mrs. Bowen, that Lord Blandford had + proposed, and had been accepted by Miss Gunning. The date of the marriage + had been fixed, and the draft deed of the settlements signed; but, as in + the former “case,” the recipient of the news was told that she must regard + the communication as strictly confidential, the fact being that although + the arrangements for the match were so fully matured, yet General Gunning—he + had recently been made a general—had not been let into the secret. + </p> + <p> + It must have seemed a little queer to Mrs. Bowen to learn that her uncle + had not been made acquainted with the good luck that was in store for his + daughter. The signing of marriage deeds in the absence of the bride's + father must surely have struck her as being a trifle irregular. However + this may be, she seems to have treated the communication as strictly + confidential by at once proceeding to spread abroad the news that it + contained. It reached the ears of several people of distinction before + long. General Conway heard of it, and from a quarter that seemed to him + absolutely trustworthy. He passed it round to Walpole and the Court + circle. The Duke of Argyll, as the uncle of the young lady most interested + in the match, was apprised of it in due course, and on appealing to + headquarters—that is to say, to Mrs. Gunning—for confirmation + or denial of the report, learned that the marriage had indeed been + “arranged,” but the question of settlements remained in abeyance. + </p> + <p> + Shortly afterwards there came rumours that there were obstacles in the way + of the marriage, and Miss Gunning, on being questioned by some of her + friends, confessed that it was the parents of her lover who were unkind: + young Lord Blandford was burning with anxiety to call her his own, but the + Duke and Duchess belonged unfortunately to that type of parent to be found + in so many novels in which the course of true love runs anything but + smooth. + </p> + <p> + Strange to say, it was just at this point that a letter appeared in the <i>Advertiser</i>, + signed by General Gunning, apprising the world of the fact that the + Gunnings were one of the noblest families in existence, the writer + actually being able to trace his ancestry up to Charlemagne. + </p> + <p> + It was while people were so laughing over this letter as to cause him to + declare it to be a forgery, that the General became suspicious of the + genuineness of his daughter's statements in regard to her <i>affaire de + cour</i>. When a blunt old soldier finds a letter bearing his signature in + the papers, well knowing that he never wrote such a letter, he is apt to + question the good faith even of his nearest and dearest. It is certain, at + any rate, that the descendant of Charlemagne had an uneasy feeling that + any woman who wrote novels was not to be implicitly trusted in the affairs + of daily life. His mind running on forged letters, he commanded his + daughter to submit to him her correspondence with her lover. + </p> + <p> + Miss Gunning at once complied, and he sat down to read the lot. The result + was not to allay his suspicions. The letters read remarkably well, and + contained the conventional outpourings of an ardent lover to the object of + his affections. But to the simple soldier's mind they read just too well: + some of them were in the style of a novel-writer with whom he was + acquainted—imperfectly, it would appear, or he would have suspected + something long before. Retaining the precious “pacquet” he awaited + developments. + </p> + <p> + He had not long to wait. Another contribution to the correspondence which + he had in his hand came to his daughter, and was passed on to him. + Noticing in it some doubtful features, he came to the conclusion that it + was necessary to get to the bottom of the affair in the most + straightforward way. He leapt to the bottom of it by sending the whole + “pacquet” to the young Marquis of Blandford, asking him peremptorily if he + had written the letters. + </p> + <p> + He got a reply to the effect that a few of the letters were his—they + were the ordinary ones, courteous, but in no way effusive—but that + the greater number had not come from him. His lordship did not seem to + think that common politeness demanded his expressing his hearty + concurrence with the tone and sentiments contained in these same letters. + Now in the judgment of a novelist of the intellectual calibre of the + Minifie sisters this is exactly what a young gentleman would do when + playing the part of the hero of a romance, so that it would appear that + General Gunning was fully justified in coming to the conclusion that the + whole scheme—the whole piece of scheming—was the design of his + wife—that it represented an attempt on her part to force one of her + “plots” upon some real personages. Dull-minded man though he certainly + was, he must have perceived that his wife's plan was to compel Lord + Blandford to act the part of the hero of her sentimental imagination, and + when confronted with a parcel of forged letters, in every one of which + there was a confession of love for Miss Gunning, to bow his head meekly, + as any gentleman (of her imagination) would, and say, “Those are my + letters, and they express nothing but the most honourable sentiments of my + heart.” + </p> + <p> + But as it so happened the young Lord Blandford was not a young gentleman + of this particular stamp. He seems to have been almost as practical as his + great ancestor, who, out of the proceeds of his first love intrigue, + bought an annuity for himself. Hence the fiasco of the Minifie plot. + </p> + <p> + The Minifie plot, however, was not worked out in one act only, and an + insignificant prologue. The resources of the lady's imagination were by no + means exhausted by the failure of Lord Blandford to act up to the heroic + part assigned to him. He seems to have talked a good deal to his friends + about the forged letters, and the Duke of Argyll, the young lady's uncle, + took the matter up as an important member by marriage of the family. He + applied to his niece for an explanation of the whole affair; and her + father seems to have agreed with him in thinking that if the girl was ever + to hold up her head again it would be necessary for her to bring forward + some evidence to prove what she still asserted, namely, that the letters + had been written to her by Lord Blandford—this “pacquet” of letters + played as important a part in the story of Miss Gunning as the “Casquet + Letters” did in the history of Queen Mary—and that they were written + with the concurrence and approbation of the Duke and Duchess of + Marlborough. The Duke and Duchess had, she affirmed, encouraged her by the + most unmistakable means to believe that they were extremely anxious to see + her married to their son. + </p> + <p> + It was then suggested—Horace Walpole, who gloats over the whole + story in a letter to one of the Berrys, does not say by whom—that + the young woman should draw up a narrative of the progress of the + attachment professed for her by Lord Blandford, and of the particular acts + of encouragement for which she alleged the Duke and Duchess were + responsible, leading her to feel sure that she was a <i>persona grata</i> + with them. It was hoped by the Duke of Argyll and General Gunning that the + girl would be rehabilitated in the eyes of society by the production of + the Duke of Marlborough's formal assent to the statements made by Miss + Gunning in endeavouring to exculpate herself. Miss Gunning assenting—after + a consultation with her mother, we may be sure—a “narrative” was + accordingly prepared by the young lady, and in it there was the ingenuous + confession that although she had been unable to resist so dazzling an + offer as that of Lord Blandford, she had not wavered in her affection for + her cousin, the Marquis of Lome. + </p> + <p> + Here we have the true Minifie touch of sentimentality, and we cannot doubt + that the remaining portion of the plot was due to her clumsy ingenuity. + </p> + <p> + This narrative was sent to the Duke of Marlborough, with the following + letter from General Gunning: + </p> + <p> + “St. James's Place, + </p> + <p> + “<i>3 rd February</i>, 1791. + </p> + <p> + “My Lord,—I have the honour of addressing this letter to your Grace + not with the smallest wish after what has passed of having a marriage + established between Lord Blandford and my daughter, or of claiming any + promise or proposal to that effect, but merely to know whether your Grace + or the Duchess of Marlborough have it in recollection that your Graces or + Lord Blandford ever gave my daughter reason to think a marriage was once + intended. + </p> + <p> + “My motive for giving this trouble arises merely from a desire of removing + any imputation from my daughter's character, as if she had entertained an + idea of such importance without any reasonable foundation. + </p> + <p> + “For my own satisfaction, and that of my particular friends who have been + induced to believe the reports of the intended marriage, I have desired my + daughter to draw up an accurate narrative of every material circumstance + on which that belief was founded. + </p> + <p> + “This narrative I have the honour of transmitting to your Grace for your + own perusal, and that of the Duchess of Marlborough and Lord Blandford, + thinking it highly suitable that you should have an early opportunity of + examining it—and I beg leave to request that your Grace will, after + examination, correct or alter such passages as may appear either to your + Grace, the Duchess of Marlborough, or Lord Blandford, to be erroneously + stated. + </p> + <p> + “I have the honour to be, + </p> + <p> + “With the greatest respect, my Lord, + </p> + <p> + “Your Grace's most humble and + </p> + <p> + “Most obedient servant, + </p> + <p> + “John Gunning.” + </p> + <p> + This letter was dispatched by a groom to its destination at Blenheim, and + within half an hour of his delivering it, His Grace, according to the + groom, had handed him a reply for General Gunning. This document, which + the groom said he had received from the Duke, was forwarded, with a copy + of the letter to which it constituted a most satisfactory reply, to a + small and very select committee that had, it would seem, been appointed to + investigate and report upon the whole story. It must also be quoted in + full, in order that its point may be fully appreciated by any one + interested in this very remarkable story. + </p> + <p> + “Blenheim. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,—I take the earliest opportunity to acknowledge the receipt of + your letter, and to answer it with that explicitness you are so much + entitled to. From the first of the acquaintance of the D———s + of Marlborough and myself had with Miss Gunning, we were charmed with her, + and it was with infinite satisfaction we discovered <i>Blanford's</i> + sentiments similar to our own. It had long been the wish of both to see + him married to some amiable woman. Your daughter was the one we had fixed + on, and we had every reason to suppose the object of his tenderest + affections, and, from the conduct of both himself and his family, yourself + and Miss Gunning had undoubtedly every right to look on a marriage as + certain. Indeed when I left town last summer, I regarded her as my future + daughter, and I must say it is with sorrow I relinquish the idea. The + actions of young men are not always to be accounted for; and it is with + regret that I acknowledge my son has been particularly unaccountable in + his. I beg that you will do me the justice to believe that I shall ever + think myself your debtor for the manner in which you have conducted + yourself in this affair, and that I must always take an interest in the + happiness of Miss Gunning. I beg, if she has not conceived a disgust for + the whole of my family, she will accept the sincerest good wishes of the + Duchess and my daughters. + </p> + <p> + “I have the honour to remain, + </p> + <p> + “Sir, + </p> + <p> + “Your much obliged and + </p> + <p> + “Most obedient, humble servant, + </p> + <p> + “Marlborough.” + </p> + <p> + Now be it remembered that both these letters were forwarded to the + committee with the young lady's narrative, to be considered by them in the + same connection, at Argyll House, where their sittings were to be held. + </p> + <p> + What was to be said in the face of such documentary evidence as this? + Those members of the committee who hoped that the girl's statement of her + case would be in some measure borne out by the Duke of Marlborough could + never have hoped for so triumphant a confirmation of her story as was + contained in His Grace's letter. It seemed as if the investigation of the + committee would be of the simplest character; handing them such a letter, + accompanying her own ingenuous narrative, it was felt that she had + completely vindicated her position. + </p> + <p> + But suddenly one member of the committee—Walpole in the letter to + Miss Berry affirms that he was this one—ventured to point out that + in the Duke's letter the name <i>Blandford</i> was spelt without the + middle letter <i>d</i>. “That was possible in the hurry of doing justice,” + wrote Walpole. But the moment that this pin-puncture of suspicion appeared + in the fabric of the lady's defence it was not thought any sacrilege to + try to pick another hole in it. The wax with which the letter was sealed + was black, and the members of the council asked one another whom the + Marlborough family were in mourning for, that they should seal their + letter in this fashion. No information on this point was forthcoming. (It + is strange if Walpole did not suggest that they were in mourning over the + defunct reputation of the young lady.) If the Duke of Argyll was present, + it can well be believed that, after the members of the council had looked + at each other, there should be silence in that room, on one wall of which + we may believe there was hanging the splendid portrait of Elizabeth, + Duchess of Argyll and Baroness Hamilton of Hameldon, in her own right, + painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds. The lady was dying at her Scotch home when + this investigation into the conduct of her niece was being conducted. + </p> + <p> + It was probably a relief to every one present when the suggestion was made + that the Duke of Marlborough's second son was in town, and if sent for he + might be able to throw some light upon the subject of the mourning wax or + some other questionable point in the same connection. Although it was now + close upon midnight a messenger was dispatched for the young man—probably + his whereabouts at midnight would be known with greater certainty than at + midday. At any rate he was quickly found, and repaired in all haste to + Argyll House. He was brought before the committee and shown the letter + with the black wax. He burst out laughing, and declared that the writing + bore not the least resemblance to that of his father, the Duke of + Marlborough. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing more to be said. The council adjourned <i>sine die</i> + without drawing up any report, so far as can be ascertained. + </p> + <p> + But the full clumsiness of the Minifie “plot” was revealed the next day, + for General Gunning received a letter from the Captain Bowen whose name + has already entered into this narrative, telling him that his wife, the + General's niece, had a short time before received from Miss Gunning a + letter purporting to be a copy of one which had come to her from the Duke + of Marlborough, and begging her to get her husband to make a fair copy of + it, and return it by the groom. Captain Bowen added that he had complied + with his wife's request to this effect, but he had written “<i>copy</i>” + at the top and “<i>signed M</i>.” at the bottom, as is usual in engrossing + copies of documents, to prevent the possibility of a charge of forgery + being brought against the copyist. + </p> + <p> + The letter which the girl wrote to Mrs. Bowen was made the subject of an + affidavit shortly afterwards, and so became public property. It is so + badly composed that one cannot but believe it was dictated by her mother, + though the marvellous spelling must have been Miss Gunning's own. The fact + that, after making up a story of her love for Lord Lome, and of the + encouragement she received from the Marlborough family in respect of Lord + Blandford, she instructed Mrs. Bowen to keep the matter secret from her + mother, confirms one's impression as to the part the lady must have played + in the transaction. Miss Gunning wrote: “Neither papa or I have courage to + tell mama, for she detests the person dearest to me on earth.” + </p> + <p> + But however deficient in courage her papa was in the matter of acquainting + his wife with so ordinary an incident as was referred to in this letter, + he did not shrink from what he believed to be his duty when it was made + plain to him that his daughter and his wife had been working out a “plot” + in real life that necessitated the forging of a letter. He promptly + bundled both wife and daughter out of his house, doubtless feeling that + although the other personages in the romance which his wife was hoping to + weave, had by no means acted up to the parts she had meant them to play, + there was no reason why he should follow their example. It must be + acknowledged that as a type of the bluff old soldier, simple enough to be + deceived by the inartistic machinations of a foolish wife, but inexorable + when finding his credulity imposed upon, he played his part extremely + well. At the same time such people as called him a ridiculous old fool for + adopting so harsh a measure toward his erring child, whose tricks he had + long winked at, were perhaps not to be greatly blamed. + </p> + <p> + The old Duchess of Bedford at once received the outcasts and provided them + with a home; and then Mrs. Gunning had leisure to concoct a manifesto in + form of an open letter to the Duke of Argyll, in which, after exhorting + His Grace to devote the remainder of his life to unravelling the mystery + which she affirmed (though no one else could have done so) enshrouded the + whole affair of the letter, she went on to denounce the simple-hearted + General for his meanness—and worse—in matters domestic. He had + never been a true husband to her, she declared, and he was even more + unnatural as a father. As for Captain Bowen and his wife, the writer of + the manifesto showed herself to be upon the brink of delirium when she + endeavoured to find words severe enough to describe their treachery. They + were inhuman in their persecution of her “glorious child,” she said, and + then she went on to affirm her belief that the incriminating letters had + been forged by the Bowens, and the rest of the story invented by them with + the aid of the General to ruin her and her “glorious child.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Bowen thought fit to reply to this amazing production. He did so + through the prosaic form of a number of affidavits. The most important of + these was that sworn by one William Pearce, groom to General Gunning. In + this document he deposed that when he was about to start for Blenheim with + the “pacquet” for the Duke of Marlborough, Miss Gunning had caught him and + compelled him to hand over the “pacquet” to her, and that she had then + given him another letter, sealed with black, bearing the Marlborough arms, + instructing him to deliver it to her father, pretending that he had + received it at Blenheim. + </p> + <p> + In spite of all this Miss Gunning continued to affirm her entire + innocence, and even went the length—according to Walpole—of + swearing before a London magistrate that she was innocent. “It is but a + burlesque part of this wonderful tale,” adds Walpole, “that old crazy + Bedford exhibits Miss every morning on the Causeway in Hyde Park and + declares her <i>protégée</i> some time ago refused General Trevelyan.” But + “crazy old Bedford” went much further in her craziness than this, for she + actually wrote to the Marquis of Lome trying to patch up a match between + Miss Gunning and himself. Immediately afterwards the town was startled by + the report that a duel was impending between Lord Lome and Lord Blandford, + the former maintaining that it was his duty to uphold the honour of his + cousin, which had been somewhat shaken by the course adopted by the + Marlborough heir. Of course no duel took place, and the young men simply + laughed when their attention was called to the statement in print. + </p> + <p> + How much further these alarums and excursions (on the Causeway) would have + proceeded it would be impossible to tell, the fact being that Captain + Bowen and his wife gave notice of their intention to institute proceedings + against the Gunnings, mother and daughter, for libel. This brought <i>l'affaire + Gunning</i> to a legitimate conclusion, for the ladies thought it + advisable to fly to France. + </p> + <p> + “The town is very dull without them,” wrote Walpole to one of the Berrys, + enclosing a copy of a really clever skit in verse, after the style of “The + House that Jack Built,” ridiculing the whole affair. When Mrs. Gunning and + her daughter returned, after the lapse of several months, the old Duchess + of Bedford took them up once more; but the town declined to take any + further notice of them. It was not until her father and mother had been + dead for some years that Miss Gunning married Major Plunkett, an Irish + rebel, who fled after the rising in 1798. She lived with him happily + enough for twenty years, endeavouring to atone for the indiscretion of her + girlhood by writing novels. It is doubtful if many of her readers + considered such expiation wholly adequate, considering how foolish she had + been. One act of folly can hardly be atoned for by another. But her + intention was good, and her faults, including her novels, have long ago + been forgiven her by being forgotten. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TRAGEDY WITH A TWINKLE + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>N the summer of + 1770 there arrived at the town of Lisle a coach containing three ladies + and one man, followed by a travelling chaise with servants and luggage. Of + the ladies, one was approaching middle age, handsome and elegant; the + other two were her daughters, and both were extremely beautiful and + graceful girls, under twenty years of age. The man was a small, + middle-aged person, with a face which one would have called plain if it + had not been that the protruding of his upper lip and the twinkle in his + eyes suggested not plainness, but comedy. The very soul of comedy was in + the gravity of his face; but it was that sort which is not apparent to all + the world. It was the soul of comedy, not the material part; and most + people are disposed to deny the possibility of comedy's existing except in + juxtaposition with the grin through the horse-collar. Solemnity in a face, + with a twinkle in the eye—that is an expression which comedy may + wear without arousing the curiosity—certainly without exciting the + laughter—of the multitude. And this was exactly the form that the + drama of this man's life assumed; only it was tragedy with a twinkle. + Tragedy with a twinkle—that was Oliver Goldsmith. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0010" id="linkimage-0010"> </a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0203.jpg" alt="0203 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0203.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + The vehicles drew up in the courtyard of the hotel in the square, and Dr. + Goldsmith, after dismounting and helping the ladies to dismount, gave + orders in French to the landlord in respect of the luggage, and made + inquiries as to the table d'hôte. Shown to their respective rooms, the + members of the party did not meet again for some time, and then it was in + the private <i>salle</i> which they had engaged, looking out upon the + square. The two girls were seated at a window, and their mother was + writing letters at a table at one side. + </p> + <p> + When Dr. Goldsmith entered we may be pretty sure that he had exchanged his + travelling dress for a more imposing toilet, and we may be equally certain + that these two girls had something merry to say about the cut or the + colour of his garments—we have abundant record of their <i>badinage</i> + bearing upon his flamboyant liking for colour, and of his retorts in the + same spirit. We have seen him strutting to and fro in gay apparel, + obtrusively calling attention to the beauty of his waistcoat and speaking + in solemn exaggeration of its importance. The girls were well aware of + this form of his humour; they appreciated it to the full, and responded to + it in their merriment. + </p> + <p> + Then there came the sound of martial music from the square, and the elder + of the girls, opening the window on its hinges, looked out. A regiment of + soldiers was turning into the square and would pass the hotel, she said. + The two girls stood at one window and Goldsmith at another while the march + past took place. It was not surprising that, glancing up and seeing the + beautiful pair at the window, the mounted officers at the head of the + regiment should feel flattered by the attention, nor was it unlikely that + the others, taking the <i>pas</i> from their superiors, should look up and + exchange expressions in admiration of the beauty of the young ladies. It + is recorded that they did so, and that, when the soldiers had marched off, + the little man at the other window walked up and down the room in anger + “that more attention had been paid to them than to him.” + </p> + <p> + These are the words of Boswell in concluding his account of the episode, + which, by the way, he printed with several other stories in illustration + of the overwhelming vanity and extraordinary envy in Goldsmith's nature. + As if any human being hearing such a story of the most complete curmudgeon + would accept the words as spoken seriously! And yet Boswell printed it in + all solemnity, and hoped that every one who read it would believe that + Goldsmith, the happy-go-lucky Irishman, was eaten up with envy of the + admiration given to the two exquisite girls on whom, by the way, be + conferred immortality; for so long as English literature remains the names + of the Jessamy Bride and Little Comedy will live. Yes, and so long as + discriminating people read the story of Goldsmith's envious outburst they + will not fail to see the true picture of what did actually take place in + that room in the Lisle hotel—they will see the little man stalking + up and down, that solemn face of his more solemn than ever, but the + twinkle in his eyes revealing itself all the more brightly on this + account, while he shakes his fists at the ladies and affirms that the + officers were dolts and idiots to waste their time gazing at them when + they had a chance “of seeing me, madam, me—<i>me!</i>” Surely every + human being with the smallest amount of imagination will see the little + man thumping his waistcoat, while the Miss Hornecks hold up their hands + and go into fits of laughter at that whimsical Dr. Goldsmith, whom they + had chosen to be their companion on that tour of theirs through France + with their mother. + </p> + <p> + And surely every one must see them in precisely the same attitude, when + they read the story in Boswell's <i>Life of Johnson</i>, and notice what + interpretation has been put upon it by the Scotsman—hands uplifted + in amazement and faces “o'er-running with laughter” at the thought of how + Mr. Boswell has, for the thousandth time, been made a fool of by some one + who had picked up the story from themselves and had solemnly narrated it + to Boswell. But in those days following the publication of the first + edition of the <i>Life</i>, people were going about with uplifted hands, + wondering if any man since the world began had ever been so befooled as + Boswell. + </p> + <p> + When the story appeared in <i>Johnson's Life</i> the two girls had been + married for several years; but one of them at least had not forgotten the + incident upon which it was founded; and upon its being repeated in + Northcote's <i>Life of Reynolds</i>, she wrote to the biographer, assuring + him that in this, as well as in other stories of the same nature, the + expression on Goldsmith's face when he professed to be overcome by envy + was such as left no one in doubt that he was jesting. But Croker, in spite + of this, had the impudence to sneer at the explanation, and to attribute + it to the good-nature of the lady. Mr. Croker seems to have had a special + smile of his own for the weaknesses of ladies. This was the way he smiled + when he was searching up old registries of their birth in his endeavour to + prove that they had made themselves out to be six months younger than they + really were. (Quite different, however, must his smile have been when he + read Macaulay's Essay on Croker's edition of Boswell's <i>Life of Johnson</i>). + But, unhappily for poor Goldsmith, Mr. Boswell was able to bring forward + much stronger evidence of the consuming Vanity, the parent of Envy, with + which his “honest Dr. Goldsmith” was afflicted. There was once an + exhibition of puppets in Panton Street, and on some member of the + distinguished company in which he, curiously enough for such a + contemptible lout, constantly found himself, admiring the dexterity with + which the wooden figure tossed a halbert, Goldsmith, we are gravely told, + appeared annoyed and said: “Pshaw! I could do it as well myself!” + Supposing that some one had said to Boswell, “After all, sir, perhaps Dr. + Goldsmith could have done it as well himself,” would the man have tried to + explain that the question was not whether Goldsmith or the puppet was the + more dexterous, but whether it was possible to put any other construction + upon Goldsmith's exclamation than that assumed by Mr. Boswell? + </p> + <p> + Yet another instance is given of Goldsmith's envy, and this time the + object of it is not a wooden figure, but Shakespeare himself. He could not + bear, Dr. Beattie tells us, that so much admiration should be given to + Shakespeare. Hearing this, we feel that we are on quite a different level. + There is no jealousy rankling this time in Goldsmith's heart against a + mere puppet. It is now a frantic passion of chagrin that Shakespeare + should still receive the admiration of a chosen few! + </p> + <p> + But such vanity as that so strikingly illustrated by this last told story, + is, one must confess with feelings of melancholy, not yet wholly extinct + among literary men. It would scarcely be believed—unless by Boswell + or Beattie—that even in America a man with some reputation as a + writer should deliberately ask people to assume that he himself was worthy + of a place in a group that included not merely Shakespeare, but also + Milton and Homer. “Gentlemen,” said this egregious person at a public + dinner, “Gentlemen, think of the great writers who are dead and gone. + There was Shakespeare, he is dead and gone; and Milton, alas! is no longer + in the land of the living; Homer has been deceased for a considerable + time, and I myself, gentlemen, am not feeling very well to-night.” + </p> + <p> + What a pity it is that Beattie has gone the way of so many other great + writers. If he could only have been laid on to Mark Twain we should have + the most comic biography ever written. + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith was, according to the great Boswell and the many lesser Boswells + of his day, the most contemptible wretch that ever wrote the finest poem + of the century, the finest comedy of the century, the finest romance of + the century. He was a silly man, an envious man, an empty-headed man, a + stuttering fool, an idiot (of the inspired variety), an awkward lout, a + shallow pedant, and a generally ridiculous person; and yet here we find + him the chosen companion of two of the most beautiful and charming young + ladies in England on their tour through France, and on terms of such + intimacy with them and their brother, an officer in the Guards and the + son-in-law of a peer, that nicknames are exchanged between them. A + singular position for an Irish lout to find himself in! + </p> + <p> + Even before he is known to fame, and familiar only with famine, he is + visited in his garret by Dr. Percy, a member of the great Northumberland + family at whose town house he lived. So much for the empty-headed fool who + never opened his mouth except to put his foot in it, as a countryman of + his said about quite another person. He was a shallow prig, and yet when + “the Club” was started not one of the original members questioned his + right to a place among the most fastidious of the community, although + Garrick—to the shame of Johnson be it spoken—was not admitted + for nine years. Boswell—to the shame of Johnson be it spoken—was + allowed to crawl in after an exclusion of ten. According to his numerous + detractors, this Goldsmith was one of the most objectionable persons + possible to imagine, and yet we find him the closest friend of the + greatest painter of the day and the greatest actor of the day. He + associates with peers on the friendliest terms, and is the idol of their + daughters. He is accused, on the one hand, of aiming at being accounted a + Macaroni and being extravagant in his dress, and yet he has such a + reputation for slovenliness in this respect that it is recorded that Dr. + Johnson, who certainly never was accused of harbouring unworthy + aspirations to be accounted a beau, made it a point of putting on his best + garments—he may even have taken the extreme step of fastening up his + garters—before visiting Goldsmith, in order, as he explained, that + the latter might have no excuse for his slovenliness. We are also told + that Goldsmith made a fool of himself when he got on his feet to make a + speech, and yet it is known that he travelled through Europe, winning the + hospitality of more than one university by the display of his skill as a + disputant. Again, none of his innumerable traits of awkwardness is so + widely acknowledged as his conversational, and yet the examples which + survive of his impromptu wit are of the most finished type; and (even when + the record is made by Boswell), when he set himself out to take opposite + sides to Johnson, he certainly spoke better sense than his antagonist, + though he was never so loud. It is worth noting that nearly all the hard + things which Johnson is reported to have said respecting Goldsmith were + spoken almost immediately after one of these disputes. Further, we are + assured that Goldsmith's learning was of the shallowest order, and yet + when he was appointed Professor of History to the Royal Academy we do not + hear that any voice was raised in protest. + </p> + <p> + What is a simple reader to think when brought face to face with such + contradictory accounts of the man and his attainments? Well, possibly the + best one can do is to say, as Fanny Burney did, that Goldsmith was an + extraordinary man. + </p> + <p> + Of course, so far as his writings are concerned there is no need for one + to say much. They speak for themselves, and readers can form their own + opinion on every line and every sentence that has come from his pen. There + is no misunderstanding the character of <i>The Traveller</i> or <i>The + Deserted Village</i> or <i>The Vicar of Wakefield</i>. These are + acknowledged by the whole world to be among the most precious legacies of + the eighteenth century to posterity. Who reads nowadays, except out of + curiosity, such classics as <i>Tristram Shandy, Clarissa Harlow, Evelina, + or Rasselas?</i> But who has not read, and who does not still read for + pleasure, <i>The Vicar of Wakefield?</i> Johnson's laborious poem, <i>The + Vanity of Human Wishes</i>, now only exists as an example of the last gasp + of the didactic in verse; but we cannot converse without quoting—sometimes + unconsciously—from <i>The Deserted Village</i> When the + actor-manager of a theatre wishes to show how accomplished a company he + has at his disposal he produces <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i>, and he would + do so more frequently only he is never quite able to make up his mind + whether he himself should play the part of old Hardcastle, Tony Lumpkin, + Young Marlow, or Diggory. But what other eighteenth-century comedy of all + produced previous to the death of Goldsmith can any manager revive + nowadays with any hope of success? Colman of the eighteenth century is as + dead as Congreve of the seventeenth; and what about the masterpieces of + Cumberland, and Kelly, and Whitehead, and the rest? What about the Rev. + Mr. Home's <i>Douglas</i>, which, according to Dr. Johnson, was equal to + Shakespeare at his best? They have all gone to the worms, and these not + even bookworms—their very graves are neglected. But <i>She Stoops to + Conquer</i> is never revived without success—never without a modern + audience recognising the fact that its characters are not the puppets of + the playwright, but the creations of Nature. It is worthy of mention, too, + that the play which first showed the capacity of an actress whose name was + ever at the head of the list of actresses of the last generation, was + founded on <i>The Vicar of Wakefield.</i> It was Miss Ellen Terry's + appearance in <i>Olivia</i> in 1878 that brought about her connection with + the ever memorable Lyceum management as an associate of the greatest actor + of our day. + </p> + <p> + These things speak for themselves, and prove incontestably that Goldsmith + was head and shoulders above all those writers with whom he was on + intimate terms. But the mystery of the contradictory accounts which we + have of the man himself and his ways remains as unsolved as ever. + </p> + <p> + Yes, unless we assume one thing, namely—that the majority of the + people about him were incapable of understanding him. Is it going too far + to suggest that, as Daniel Defoe was sent to the pillory because his + ironic jest in <i>The Shortest Way with the Dissenters</i> was taken in + earnest, and as good people shuddered at the horrible proposal of Swift + that Irish babies should be cooked and eaten, so Goldsmith's peculiarities + of humour were too subtle to be in any degree appreciated by most of the + people with whom he came in contact in England? + </p> + <p> + In Ireland there would be no chance of his being misunderstood; for there + no form that his humour assumed would be regarded as peculiar. Irony is a + figure of speech so largely employed by the inhabitants in some parts that + people who have lived there for any length of time have heard whole + conversations carried on by two or three men without the slightest + divergence from this tortuous form of expression into the straight path of + commonplace English. And all this time there was no expression but one of + complete gravity on the faces of the speakers; a stranger had no clue + whatsoever to the game of words that was being played before him. + </p> + <p> + Another fully recognised form of humour which prevails in Ireland is even + more difficult for a stranger to follow; its basis consists in mystifying + another person, not for the sake of getting a laugh from a third who has + been let into the secret, but simply for the satisfaction of the mystifier + himself. The forms that such a scheme of humour may assume are various. + One of the most common is an affectation of extraordinary stupidity. It is + usually provoked by the deliverance of a platitude by a stranger. The + humourist pretends that he never heard such a statement before, and asks + to have it repeated. When this is done, there is usually a pause in which + the profoundest thought is suggested; then the clouds are seen to clear + away, and the perplexity on the man's face gives way to intelligence; he + has grasped the meaning of the phrase at last, and he announces his + victory with sparkling eyes, and forthwith puts quite a wrong construction + upon the simplest words. His chuckling is brought to a sudden stop by the + amazed protest of the victim against the suggested solution of the + obvious. Thus, with consummate art, the man is led on to explain at + length, with ridiculous emphasis, the exact meaning of his platitude; but + it is all to no purpose. The humourist shakes his head; he pretends that + the cleverness of the other is too much for him to grasp all in a moment; + it's a fine thing to have learning, to be sure, but these things may be + best not meddled with by ignorant creatures like himself; and so he goes + off murmuring his admiration for the fine display of wisdom that comes so + easy-like from the man whom he has been fooling. + </p> + <p> + This form of humour is indulged in by some Irishmen simply for the + satisfaction it gives them to indulge in it. They never hurry off to + acquaint a neighbour with what they have done, and they are quite pleased + with the thought that the person on whom they have been imposing will tell + the whole story of their extraordinary obtuseness to some one else; it + never strikes them that that some one else may fail to see through the + trick, and actually be convinced of the existence of their obtuseness. But + if such a possibility did occur to them, they would be all the better + pleased: they would feel that they had fooled two instead of one. + </p> + <p> + But, of course, the most widely recognised form of Irish humour is that + known as the “bull.” This is the delivery of a paradox so obvious as to be + detected—after a brief consideration—by an Englishman or even—after + an additional space for thought—by a Scotsman. But where the fun + comes in is (in the Irishman's eyes) when the others assume that the + humour of the bull is involuntary; and this is just what the Englishman + has been doing, and what the Irishman has been encouraging him to do, for + centuries. The Englishman is so busy trying to make it appear that he is + cleverer than he really is, he cannot see the humour of any man trying to + make out that he is more stupid than he really is. Let no one fancy for a + moment that the humour of an Irish bull is involuntary. It is a form of + expression that may be due to a peculiar twist in the Irishman's mind—indeed, + every form of humour may be said to be due to a peculiar twist of the mind—but + it is as much a figure of speech as irony or satire. “Blarney” and + “palaver” are other forms of speech in which the Irish of some generations + ago indulged with great freedom, and both are essentially Irish and + essentially humorous, though occasionally borrowed and clumsily worn on + the other side of the Channel, just as the bernous of the Moor is worn by + an English missionary when lecturing in the village schoolroom (with a + magic-lantern) on The Progress of Christianity in Morocco. + </p> + <p> + It would be interesting to make a scientific inquiry into the origin and + the maintenance of all these forms of expression among the Irish; but it + is unnecessary to do so in this place. It is enough if we remind English + readers of the existence of such forms even in the present day, when there + is so little need for their display. It can without difficulty be + understood by any one, however superficially acquainted with the history + of Ireland for the past thousand years, that “blarney” and “palaver” were + as necessary to the existence of the natives of the island as suspicion + and vigilance were to the existence of the invaders. But it is not so + apparent why Irishmen should be given to rush into the extremes of + bragging on the one hand, and self-depreciation on the other. Bragging is, + however, as much an endowment of Nature for the protection of a species or + a race as is imitation or mimicry. The Irishman who was able by the + exercise of this gift to intimidate the invaders, escaped a violent death + and transmitted his art to his children. The practice of the art of + self-depreciation was quite as necessary for the existence of the Irish + race up to the time of the passing of the first Land Act. For several + generations an Irishman was not allowed to own a horse of greater value + than five pounds; and every Irish agriculturist who improved the miserable + cabin which he was supposed to share with his pigs and his fowl, might + rest certain that his rent would be raised out of all proportion to his + improvements. In these circumstances it can easily be understood that it + was accounted a successful joke for a man who was doing tolerably well to + put on a poor face when in the presence of an inquiry agent of the absent + landlord—to run down all his own efforts and to depreciate generally + his holding, and thus to save himself from the despicable treatment which + was meted out to the unfortunate people by the conquerors of their + country. + </p> + <p> + It is not necessary to do more than make these suggestions to a scientific + investigator who may be disposed to devote some time to the question of + the origin of certain forms of Irish humour; it is enough for us, in + considering the mystery of that typical Irishman, Oliver Goldsmith, to + know that such forms of humour as we have specified have an actual + existence. Such knowledge is a powerful illuminant to a reader of + Boswell's and Beattie's stories of the stupidity of Goldsmith. A fine + flood of light is thrown upon the apparent mystery of the inspiration of + this idiot—of this man “who wrote like an angel and talked like poor + poll.” + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith was just too successful in maintaining that gravity which is the + very essence of those forms of humour in which he was constantly indulging + for his own satisfaction; the mask of gravity was such a good fit that the + short-sighted people who were around him never penetrated it. He was + making fools of the people about him, never giving a thought to the + possibility that they would transmit to posterity the impression which his + attitude conveyed to them, which was that he was a shallow fool. + </p> + <p> + Of course, it would be as absurd to contend that Goldsmith never made a + fool of himself as it would be to assume that Johnson never made a fool of + himself, or that Boswell ever failed to do so. The occasions upon which he + made himself ridiculous must have been numerous, but out of the many + incidents which Boswell and Beattie and Cooke and the others bring forward + as proofs of his stupidity there are few that will not bear to be + interpreted as instances of his practice of a form of humour well known in + Ireland. If his affectation of chagrin at the admiration given to the + Panton Street puppets, followed by the boast, “I could do it as well + myself,” was not humorous, then indeed there is nothing humorous under the + sun. If his object of setting the room roaring with laughter was not + achieved the night when at the club he protested that the oratory of Burke + was nothing—that all oratory, as a matter of fact, was only a knack—and + forthwith stood upon a chair and began to stutter, all that can be said is + that the famous club at Gerrard Street was more stolid than could be + believed. If his strutting about the room where he and his friends were + awaiting a late-comer to dinner, entreating Johnson and the rest to pay + particular attention to the cut of his new peach-bloom coat, and declaring + that Filby, his tailor, had told him that when any one asked him who had + made the garment he was not to forget Filby's address, did not help + materially to enliven the tedium of that annoying wait, all that can be + said is that Thrale, as well as Boswell, must have been of the party. + </p> + <p> + If a novelist, anxious to depict a typical humorous Irishman, were to show + his hero acting as Boswell says Goldsmith acted, would not every reader + acknowledge that he was true to the character of a comical Irishman? If a + playwriter were to put the scene on the stage, would any one in the + audience fail to see that the Goldsmith of the piece was fooling? Every + one in the club—Boswell best of all—was aware of the fact that + Goldsmith had the keenest admiration for Burke, and that he would be the + last man in the world to decry his powers. As for the peach-bloom coat, it + had been the butt of much jesting on the part of his friends; the elder of + the Miss Hornecks had written him a letter of pretty “chaff” about it, all + of which he took in good part. He may have bought the coat originally + because he liked the tint of the velvet; but assuredly when he found that + it could be made the subject of a jest he did not hesitate to jest upon it + himself. How many times have we not seen in Ireland a man behave in + exactly the same way under similar conditions—a boisterous young + huntsman who had put on pink for the first time, and was strutting with + much pride before an admiring group of servants, every one of whom had + some enthusiastic remark to make about the fit of the coat, until at last + the youth, pointing out the perfection of the gilt buttons, murmured: “Oh, + but isn't this a great day for Ireland!” + </p> + <p> + What a pity it was that Mr. Boswell had not been present at such a scene! + Can we not hear his comments upon the character of the young man who had + actually been so carried away by his vanity that he was heard to express + the opinion that the fortunes of his country would be materially affected + by the fact of the buttons of his new coat being gilt? (It was this same + Mr. Boswell, the critic of Goldsmith's all too attractive costume, who, + when going to see Pitt for the first time, put on Corsican native dress, + pretending that he did so in order to interest Pitt in General Paoli.) + </p> + <p> + In reading these accounts of Goldsmith's ways and the remarks of his + associates it must be noticed that some of these gentlemen had now and + again an uneasy impression that there was more in the poet's stupidity + than met the eye. Sir Joshua Reynolds was his closest friend, and it was + the business of the painter to endeavour to get below the surface of his + sitters. The general idea that prevails in the world is that he was rather + successful in his attempts to reproduce, not merely their features, but + their characters as well; and Sir Joshua saw enough beneath the rude + exterior of the man to cause him to feel toward Goldsmith as he felt for + none of his other friends. When the news of his death was brought to the + painter, he laid down his brushes and spent the day in seclusion. When it + is remembered that he spent every day of the week, not even excepting + Sunday, in his studio, the depth of his grief for the loss of his friend + will be understood. Upon more than one occasion Reynolds asserted that + Goldsmith was diverting himself by trying to make himself out to be more + stupid than he really was. Malone, whose judgment was rarely at fault, + whether it was exercised in the detection of fraud or in the discovery of + genius, was in perfect agreement with Reynolds on this point, and was + always ready to affirm that Boswell was unjust in his remarks upon + Goldsmith and the conclusions to which he came in respect of his + character. It is not necessary for one to have an especially vivid + imagination to enable one to see what was the expression on Malone's face + when he came upon the patronising passage in the <i>Life of Johnson</i> in + which Boswell stated that for his part he was always glad to hear “honest + Dr. Goldsmith” converse. “Puppy!” cried Johnson upon one occasion when a + certain commentator had patronised a text out of all recognition. What + would he have said had he heard Goldsmith patronised by Boswell? + </p> + <p> + So far as Goldsmith's actual vanity is concerned, all that can be said at + this time is that had it existed in the offensive form which it assumes in + some of Boswell's stories, Goldsmith would never have won the friendship + of those men and women who were his friends before he had made a + reputation for himself by the publication of <i>The 'Traveller</i>. If he + had had an extravagant opinion of his own capacity as a poet, he would + certainly never have suffered Johnson to make an attempt to improve upon + one of his poems; but Goldsmith not only allowed him to do so, but + actually included the lines written by Johnson when he published the poem. + Had he been eaten up by vanity, he would not have gone wandering down the + Mall in St. James's Park while his comedy was being played for the first + time before a delighted house. The really vain man was the author of The + Vanity of Human Wishes, who bought the showiest set of garments he could + find and sat in all their glory in the front row of the boxes on the night + when Garrick produced his tragedy of <i>Irene</i>—Garrick whom he + kept out of the Club for nine years simply because the actor had expressed + a wish to become one of the original members. The really vain man was the + one who made his stock story his account of his conversation with the King + in the Royal Library. Every one sees this now, and every one saw it, + except Boswell, when the <i>Life</i> was flung in the face of a convulsed + public, for the public of the year 1791 were as little aware of the real + value of the book as the author was of the true character of his hero and + his hero's friend Goldsmith. + </p> + <p> + After all, there would be no better way of arriving at a just conclusion + on the subject of Goldsmith's stupidity than by submitting the whole of + the case to an ordinary man accustomed to the many peculiarities of + Irishmen, especially in the exercise of their doubtful gift of humour. + “Here is a man,” we must say, “who became the most intimate friend of + people of title and the dearest friend of many men of brains. When the + most exclusive Club of the day was started his place as a member was not + disputed, even by the man who invented the word 'clubbable,' and knew what + it meant into the bargain; when the Royal Academy of Arts was started he + was invited to become one of its professors. Some of the wittiest things + recorded by the most diligent recorder of witty things that the world has + ever known, were uttered by him. Upon one occasion when walking among the + busts of the poets in Westminster Abbey with a friend, the latter pointing + around said: + </p> + <p> + “'<i>Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis</i>.' + </p> + <p> + “Leaving the Abbey and walking down the Strand to Temple Bar they saw the + heads of the men who had been captured and decapitated for taking part in + the Rebellion of the year 1745, bleaching in the winds in accordance with + the terms of the sentence for high treason. + </p> + <p> + “'<i>Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis</i>,' murmured the man of + whom we speak. Upon another occasion this same friend of his, who had a + unique reputation for speaking in the most ponderous language, even when + dealing with the simplest matters, asserted that the writing of the + dialogue in some recently published fables where fish were represented as + conversing, was very simple. 'Not so simple at all,' said the other, 'for + were you to write them, you would make every minnow talk like a whale.' + </p> + <p> + “In the course of a few years, in addition to compiling histories, which + remained standard educational works for more than a century, and several + other books, he wrote a novel which received the highest praise from the + greatest intellects in Europe, and which is still read with delight by + thousands of people of all nationalities; a poem of which almost every + line is quoted daily in conversation—a poem which contains metaphors + that have been repeated for generations in the Senate, in the Court of + Law, and in the Church; and a play which has been pronounced the truest + comedy in the English language. He died at an early age, and a memorial of + his genius was given a place in Westminster Abbey. The inscription was + written by the most distinguished man of letters in England, and although + highly eulogistic, was considered by the greatest painter in the world and + the greatest orator in the world to fall short of doing justice to the + subject. + </p> + <p> + “But, on the other hand, the man of whom we speak was said by a Scotchman, + who himself was occasionally referred to as a cur and sometimes as an ape, + and more than once as a coxcomb, to have been roused to a frenzy of envy, + because some officers, passing through a square in a French town, looked + admiringly at two lovely girls who were at a window, ignoring him at + another window; and again because his friends spoke with favour of the + dexterity of a wooden figure dressed as a soldier, and yet again (on + another authority) because one of his friends read a passage from + Shakespeare, and affirmed that it was magnificent. Now, would you say,” we + should ask the authority to whom we are supposed to be stating a case—“would + you say that this man was in earnest when, in the first of the instances + quoted, he walked up and down the room in the French hotel asserting 'that + although the young ladies, of whom he was extremely fond, might have their + admirers, there were places where he, too, was given admiration'? Would + you say that he showed ill-temper or wit when, in the second instance, he + declared with warmth that he could toss a halbert quite as well as any + wooden figure? Would you say that——” + </p> + <p> + But we should not get any further than this in stating our case to a man + acquainted with the Irish and their humour: he would think that we were + taking a leaf out of the book of Irish humour, and endeavouring to fool + him by asking him to pronounce a grave opinion upon the obvious; he would + not stay to give us a chance of asking him whether he thought that the + temptation of making “Noll” rhyme with “Poll,” was not too great to be + resisted by the greatest farceur of his time, in the presence of a + humorous colleague called Oliver; and whether an impecunious but witty + Irishman begged his greatest friend not to give him the nickname of Goldy, + because his dignity was hurt thereby, or simply because it was tantalising + for one to be called “Goldy,” whose connection with gold was usually so + transitory. + </p> + <p> + If people will only read the stories told of poor Goldsmith's vanity, and + envy, and coxcombry, with a handbook of Irish humour beside them, the + conclusion to which they will come must, we think, be that Goldsmith was + an Irishman, and that, on the whole, he made very good fun of Boswell, who + was a Scotsman, but that in the long run Boswell got very much the better + of him. Scotsmen usually laugh last. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE BEST COMEDY OF THE CENTURY + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>E occupied one + room in the farmhouse—the guest-chamber it had probably been called + when the farm was young. It was a pretty spacious apartment up one pair of + stairs and to the right of the landing, and from its window there was a + pleasing prospect of a paddock with wheat-fields beyond; there was a drop + in the landscape in the direction of Hendon, and here was a little wood. + The farmer's name was Selby, a married man with a son of sixteen, and + younger children, and the farmhouse was the nearest building to the sixth + milestone on the Edgware Road in the year 1771. + </p> + <p> + He was invariably alluded to as “The Gentleman,” and the name did very + well for him, situated as he was in the country; in the town and among his + acquaintances it would serve badly as a means of identification. He was + never referred to as “The Gentleman” of his circle. In his room in the + farmhouse there was his bed and table—a large table littered with + books; it took two chaises to carry his books hither from his rooms in the + Temple. Here he sat and wrote the greater part of the day, and when he was + very busy he would scarcely be able to touch the meals which were sent up + to him from the kitchen. But he was by no means that dignified type of the + man of letters who would shrink from fellowship with the farmer or his + family. He would frequently come down his stairs into the kitchen and + stand with his back to the fire, conversing with the housewife, and + offering her his sympathy when she had made him aware of the fact that the + privilege of being the wife of a substantial farmer, though undoubtedly + fully recognised by the world, carried many troubles in its train, not + only in connection with the vicissitudes of churning, but in regard to the + feeding of the calves, which no man could attend to properly, and the + making of the damson and cowslip wine. He told her that the best maker of + cowslip wine whom he had ever met was a Mrs. Primrose; her husband had at + one time occupied the Vicarage of Wakefield—he wondered if Mrs. + Selby had ever heard of her. Mrs. Selby's knowledge did not go so far, but + she thought that Mrs. Primrose's recipe must be a good one indeed if it + brought forth better results than her own; and the gentleman said that + although he had never tasted Mrs. Selby's he would still have no + hesitation in backing it for flavour, body, headiness, and all other + qualities associated with the distillation of the cowslip, against the + Primrose brand. + </p> + <p> + And then he would stare at the gammon in the rafter and mutter some words, + burst into a roar of laughter, and stumble upstairs to his writing, + leaving the good woman to thank Heaven that she was the wife of a + substantial farmer and not of an unsubstantial gentleman of letters, who + could not carry on a simple conversation without having some queer thought + fly across his brain for all the world like one of the swallows on the + water at Hendon, only maybe a deal harder to catch. She knew that the + gentleman had hurried to his paper and ink to complete the capture of that + fleet-flitting thought which had come to him when he had cast his eyes + toward the gammon, though how an idea worth putting on paper—after a + few muttered words and a laugh—could lurk about a common piece of + hog's-flesh was a mystery to her. + </p> + <p> + And then upon occasions the gentleman would take a walk abroad; the + farmer's son had more than once come upon him strolling about the fields + with his hands in his pockets and his head bent toward the ground, still + muttering fitfully and occasionally giving a laugh that made the grey pad + in the paddock look up slowly, still munching the grass. Now and again he + paid a visit to his friend Mr. Hugh Boyd at the village of Kenton, and + once he returned late at night from such a visit, without his shoes. He + had left them in a quagmire, he said, and it was only with a struggle that + he saved himself from being engulfed as well. That was the story of his + shoes which young Selby remembered when he was no longer young. And there + was another story which he remembered, but it related to his slippers. The + fact was that the gentleman had acquired the bad habit of reading in bed, + and the table on which his candlestick stood being several feet away from + his pillow, he saved himself the trouble of rising to extinguish it by + flinging a slipper at it. In the morning the overturned candle was usually + found side by side on the floor with an unaccountably greasy slipper. This + method of discharging an important domestic duty differed considerably + from Johnson's way of compassing the same end. Johnson, being extremely + short-sighted, was compelled to hold the candle close to the book when + reading in bed, so that he had no need to use his slipper as an + extinguisher. No, but he found his pillow very handy for this purpose. + When he had finished his reading he threw away the book and went asleep + with his candle under his pillow. + </p> + <p> + The gentleman at the farm went about a good deal in his slippers, and with + his shirt loose at the collar—the latter must have been but one of + his very customary negligences, or Sir Joshua Reynolds would not have + painted him thus. Doubtless the painter had for long recognised the + interpretative value of this loosened collar above that of the velvet and + silk raiment in which the man sometimes appeared before the wondering eyes + of his friends. + </p> + <p> + But if the painter had never had an opportunity of studying the + picturesqueness of his negligence, he had more than one chance of doing so + within the farmhouse. + </p> + <p> + Young Selby recollected that upon at least one occasion Sir Joshua, his + friend Sir William Chambers, and Dr. Johnson had paid a visit to the + gentleman who lodged at the farm. He remembered that for that reception of + so distinguished a company the farmhouse parlour had been opened and tea + provided. There must have been a good deal of pleasant talk between the + gentleman and his friends at this time, and probably young Selby heard an + astonishingly loud laugh coming from the enormous visitor with the brown + coat and the worsted stockings, as the gentleman endeavoured to tell his + guests something of the strange scenes which he was introducing in the + comedy he was writing in that room upstairs. It was then a comedy without + a name, but young Selby heard that it was produced the following year in + London and that it was called <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i>. + </p> + <p> + This was the second year that the gentleman had spent at the farm. The + previous summer he had been engaged on another work which was certainly as + comical as the comedy. It was called <i>Animated Nature</i>, and it + comprised some of the most charmingly narrated errors in Natural History + ever offered to the public, and the public have always been delighted to + read pages of fiction if it is only called “Natural History.” This is one + of the best-established facts in the history of the race. After all, <i>Animated + Nature</i> was true to half its title: every page was animated. + </p> + <p> + It was while he was so engaged, with one eye on Buffon and another on his + MS., that he found Farmer Selby very useful to him. Farmer Selby knew a + great deal about animals—the treatment of horses under various + conditions, and the way to make pigs pay; he had probably his theories + respecting the profit to be derived from keeping sheep, and how to feed + oxen that are kept for the plough. All such knowledge he must have placed + at the disposal of the author, though the farmer was possibly too careless + an observer of the simple incidents of the fields to be able to verify + Buffon's statement, reproduced in Animated Nature, to the effect that cows + shed their horns every two years; he was probably also too deficient in + the spirit in which a poet sets about the work of compilation to be able + to assent to the belief that a great future was in store for the zebra + when it should become tame and perform the ordinary duties of a horse. But + if the author was somewhat discouraged in his speculations now and again + by Farmer Selby, he did not allow his fancy as a naturalist to be wholly + repressed. He had heard a story of an ostrich being ridden horsewise in + some regions, and of long journeys being accomplished in this way in + incredibly short spaces of time, and forthwith his imagination enabled him + to see the day when this bird would become as amenable to discipline as + the barn-door fowl, though discharging the tasks of a horse, carrying its + rider across England with the speed of a racer! + </p> + <p> + It was while he was engaged on this pleasant work of fancy and imagination + that Mr. Boswell paid him a visit, bringing with him as a witness Mr. + Mickle, the translator of the Lusiad. “The Gentleman” had gone away for + the day, Mrs. Selby explained; but she did not know Mr. Boswell. She could + not prevent him from satisfying his curiosity in respect of Dr. Goldsmith. + He went upstairs to his room, and he was fully satisfied. He found the + walls all scrawled over with outline drawings of quite a number of + animals. Having thus satisfied himself that the author of <i>Animated + Nature</i> was working in a thoroughly conscientious manner he came away. + He records the incident himself, but he does not say whether or not he was + able to recognise any of the animals from their pictures. + </p> + <p> + But now it was a professed and not an unconscious comedy that occupied Dr. + Goldsmith. Whatever disappointment he may have felt at the indifferent + success of the first performance of <i>The Good-Natured Man</i>—and + he undoubtedly felt some—had been amply redeemed by the money which + accrued to him from the “author's rights” and the sale of the play; and he + had only awaited a little encouragement from the managers to enable him to + begin another comedy. But the managers were not encouraging, and he was + found by his friends one day to be full of a scheme for the building of a + new theatre for the production of new plays, in order that the existing + managers might not be able to carry on their tyranny any longer. Such a + scheme has been revived every decade since Goldsmith's time, but never + with the least success. Johnson, whose sound sense was rarely at fault, + laughed at the poet's project for bringing down the mighty from their + seats, upon which Goldsmith cried: “Ay, sir, this matter may be nothing to + you who can now shelter yourself behind the corner of your pension,” and + he doubtless went on to describe the condition of the victims of the + tyranny of which he complained; but it is questionable if his doing so + effected more than to turn Johnson's laughter into another and a wider + channel. + </p> + <p> + But Goldsmith spoke feelingly. He was certainly one of the ablest writers + of the day, but no pension was ever offered to him, though on every hand + bounties were freely bestowed on the most indifferent and least deserving + of authors—men whose names were forgotten before the end of the + century, and during the lifetime of the men themselves remembered only by + the pay clerk to the almoner. + </p> + <p> + Of course, the scheme for bringing the managers to their senses never + reached a point of serious consideration; and forthwith Goldsmith began to + illustrate, for the benefit of posterity, the depths to which the + stupidity of the manager of a play-house can occasionally fall. The public + have always had abundant proofs of the managers' stupidity afforded them + in the form of the plays which they produce; but the history of the + production of the most brilliant comedy of the eighteenth century is + practically unique; for it is the history of the stupidity of a manager + doing his best to bring about the failure of a play which he was producing + at his own theatre. He had predicted the failure of the piece, and it must + strike most people that the manager of a theatre who produces for a + failure will be as successful in compassing his end as a jockey who rides + for a fall. Colman believed that he was in the fortunate position of those + prophets who had the realisation of their predictions in their own hands. + He was mistaken in this particular case. Although he was justified on + general principles in assuming his possession of this power, yet he had + made no allowance for the freaks of genius. He was frustrated in his + amiable designs by this incalculable force—this power which he had + treated as a <i>quantité négligeable</i>. A man who has been accustomed + all his life to count only on simple ability in the people about him, is, + on suddenly being brought face to face with genius, like an astronomer who + makes out his tables of a new object on the assumption that it is a fixed + star, when all the time it is a comet, upsetting by its erratic course all + his calculations, and demanding to be reckoned with from a standpoint that + applies to itself alone. + </p> + <p> + The stars of Colman's theatrical firmament were such as might safely be + counted on; but Goldsmith's genius was not of this order. The manager's + stupidity lay in his blunt refusal to recognise a work of genius when it + was brought to him by a man of genius. + </p> + <p> + It has been said that the central idea of the plot of <i>She Stoops to + Conquer</i> was suggested by an incident that came under Goldsmith's + notice before he left Ireland. However this may be, it cannot be denied + that the playing of the practical joke of Tony Lumpkin upon the two + travellers is “very Irish.” It would take a respectable place in the list + of practical jokes of the eighteenth century played in Ireland. In that + island a collector of incidents for a comedy during the past two centuries + would require to travel with a fat notebook—so would the collector + of incidents for a tragedy. Goldsmith's task may not have been to invent + the central idea, but to accomplish the much more difficult duty of making + that incident seem plausible, surrounding it with convincing scenery and + working it out by the aid of the only characters by which it could be + worked out with a semblance of being natural. This was a task which genius + only could fulfil. The room whose walls bore ample testimony to its + occupant's sense of the comedy of a writer's life, witnessed the supreme + achievement in the “animated nature” of <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i>. It + contains the two chief essentials to a true comedy—animation and + nature. + </p> + <p> + It is certain that the play was constructed and written by Goldsmith + without an adviser. He was possibly shrewd enough to know that if he were + to take counsel with any of his friends—Garrick, Johnson, Reynolds, + or Colman—he would not be able to write the play which he had a mind + to write. The artificial comedy had a vogue that year, and though it may + have been laughed at in private by people of judgment, yet few of those + within the literary circle of which Johnson was the acknowledged centre, + would have had the courage to advise a poet writing a piece in hopes of + making some money, to start upon a plot as farcical as Nature herself. At + that period of elegance in art everything that was natural was pronounced + vulgar. Shakespeare himself had to be made artificial before he could be + played by Garrick. Goldsmith must have known that his play would be called + vulgar, and that its chances of being accepted and produced by either of + the managers in London would be doubtful; but, all the same, he wrote the + piece in accordance with his own personal views, and many a time during + the next two years he must have felt that he was a fool for doing so. + </p> + <p> + However this may be, the play was finished some time in the summer of + 1771; and on September 7th the author was back at his rooms in the Temple + and writing to his friend Bennet Langton, whom he had promised to visit at + his place in Lincolnshire. “I have been almost wholly in the country at a + farmer's house, quite alone, trying to write a comedy. It is now finished, + but when or how it will be acted, or whether it will be acted at all, are + questions I cannot resolve,” he told Langton. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0011" id="linkimage-0011"> </a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0241.jpg" alt="0241 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0241.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + The misgivings which he had at this time were well founded. He considered + that the fact of his having obtained from Colman a promise to read any + play that he might write constituted an obligation on his part to submit + this piece to Colman rather than to Garrick. He accordingly placed it in + Colman's hands; but it is impossible to say if the work of elaborate + revision which Goldsmith began in the spring of 1772 was due to the + comments made by this manager on the first draft or to the author's + reconsideration of his work as a whole. But the amended version was + certainly in Colman's hands in the summer of this year (1772). The + likelihood is that Colman would have refused point-blank to have anything + to do with the comedy after he had read the first draft had it not been + that just at this time Goldsmith's reputation was increased to a + remarkable extent by the publication of his Histories. It would be + difficult to believe how this could be, but, as usual, we are indebted to + Mr. Boswell for what information we have on this point. Boswell had been + for some time out of London, and on returning he expressed his amazement + at the celebrity which Goldsmith had attained. “Sir,” he cried to Johnson, + “Goldsmith has acquired more fame than all the officers last war who were + not generals!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir,” said Johnson, “you will find ten thousand fit to do what they + did before you find one who does what Goldsmith has done”—a bit of + dialogue that reminds one of the reply of the avaricious <i>prima donna</i> + when the Emperor refused to accede to her terms on the plea that were he + to pay her her price she would be receiving more than any of his marshals. + “Eh bien, mon sire. Let your marshals sing to you.” + </p> + <p> + At any rate, Colman got the play—and kept it. He would give the + author no straightforward opinion as to its prospects in his hands. He + refused to say when he would produce it—nay, he declined to promise + that he would produce it at all. Goldsmith was thus left in torment for + month after month, and the effect of the treatment that he received was to + bring on an illness, and the effect of his illness was to sink him to a + depth of despondency that even Goldsmith had never before sounded. The + story told by Cooke of his coming upon the unhappy man in a coffeehouse, + and of the latter's attempt to give him some of the details of the plot of + the comedy, speaks for itself. “I shook my head,” wrote Cooke, “and said + that I was afraid the audience, under their then sentimental impressions, + would think it too broad and farcical for comedy.” This was poor comfort + for the author; but after a pause he shook the man by the hand, saying + piteously: “I am much obliged to you, my dear friend, for the candour of + your opinion, but it is all I can do; for alas! I find that my genius, if + ever I had any, has of late totally deserted me.” + </p> + <p> + This exclamation is the most piteous that ever came from a man of genius; + and there can be no doubt of the sincerity of its utterance, for it was + during these miserable months that he began a new novel, but found himself + unable to get further than a few chapters. And all this time, when, in + order to recover his health, he should have had no worries of a lesser + nature, he was being harassed by the trivial cares of a poor, generous + man's life—those mosquito vexations which, accumulating, become more + intolerable than a great calamity. + </p> + <p> + He had once had great hopes of good resulting from Colman's taking up the + management of Covent Garden, and had written congratulations to him within + the first week of his entering into possession of the theatre. A very + different letter he had now to write to the same man. Colman had + endeavoured to evade the responsibility of giving him a direct answer + about the play. He clearly meant that the onus of refusing it should lie + at the door of some one else. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Sir,” wrote the author in January, 1773, “I entreat you'll release + me from that state of suspense in which I have been kept for a long time. + Whatever objections you have made or shall make to my play I will + endeavour to remove and not argue about them. To bring in any new judges + either of its merits or faults I can never submit to. Upon a former + occasion when my other play was before Mr. Garrick he offered to bring me + before Mr. Whitehead's tribunal, but I refused the proposal with + indignation. I hope I shall not experience as hard treatment from you as + from him.... For God's sake take the play and let us make the best of it, + and let me have the same measure at least which you have given as bad + plays as mine.” + </p> + <p> + Upon receiving this letter, Colman at once returned to him the manuscript + of the play, and on the author's unfolding it he found that on the back of + almost every page, on the blank space reserved for the prompter's + hieroglyphs, some sneering criticism was scrawled. To emphasise this + insult Colman had enclosed a letter to the effect that if the author was + still unconvinced that the piece would be a failure, he, Colman, would + produce it. + </p> + <p> + Immediately on receipt of this contemptible effort at contempt Goldsmith + packed up the play and sent it to Garrick at Drury Lane. That same + evening, however, he met Johnson and told him what he had done; and + Johnson, whose judgment on the practical side of authorship was rarely at + fault, assured him that he had done wrong and that he must get the + manuscript back without delay, and submit to Colman's sneers for the sake + of having the comedy produced. Upon Johnson's promising to visit Colman, + and to urge upon him the claims of Goldsmith to his consideration, the + distracted author wrote to Drury Lane: + </p> + <p> + “Upon more mature deliberation and the advice of a sensible friend, I + begin to think it indelicate in me to throw upon you the odium of + confirming Mr. Colman's sentence. I therefore request that you will send + my play by my servant back; for having been assured of having it acted at + the other house, though I confess yours in every respect more to my wish, + yet it would be folly in me to forgo an advantage which lies in my power + of appealing from Mr. Colman's opinion to the judgment of the town.” + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith got back the play, and Johnson explained to him, as he did some + years later to Reynolds, that the solicitations which he had made to + Colman to put it in rehearsal without delay amounted almost to force. At + any rate, the play was announced and the parts distributed to the + excellent company which Colman controlled. It was soon proved that he + controlled some members of this company only too well. The spirit in, + which he set about the discharge of his duties as a manager was apparent + to every one during the earliest rehearsals. Johnson, writing to an + American correspondent, mentioned that Colman made no secret of his belief + that the play would be a failure. Far from it. He seems to have taken the + most extraordinary trouble to spread his belief far and wide; and when a + manager adopts such a course, what chance, one may ask, has the play? What + chance, the players could not but ask, have the players? + </p> + <p> + This was possibly the only occasion in the history of the English drama on + which such questions could be asked. If managers have a fault at all—a + question which is not yet ripe for discussion—it has never been in + the direction of depreciating a play which they are about to produce—that + is, of course, outside the author's immediate circle. It is only when the + play has failed that they sometimes allow that it was a bad one, and + incapable of being saved even by the fine acting of the company and the + sumptuous mounting. + </p> + <p> + But Colman controlled his company all too well, and after a day or two it + was announced that the leading lady, the accomplished Mrs. Abington, had + retired from the part of Miss Hardcastle; that Smith, known as Gentleman + Smith, had refused to play Young Marlow; and that Woodward, the most + popular comedian in the company, had thrown up the part of Tony Lumpkin. + </p> + <p> + Here, in one day, it seemed that Colman had achieved his aims, and the + piece would have to be withdrawn by the author. This was undoubtedly the + managerial view of the situation which had been precipitated by the + manager, and it was shared by those of the author's friends who understood + his character as indifferently as did Colman. They must all have been + somewhat amazed when the author quietly accepted the situation and + affirmed that he would rather that his play were damned by bad players + than merely saved by good acting. One of the company who had the sense to + perceive the merits of the piece, Shuter, the comedian, who was cast for + the part of old Hardcastle, advised Goldsmith to give Lewes, the + harlequin, the part of Young Marlow; Quick, a great favourite with the + public, was to act Tony Lumpkin; and, after a considerable amount of + wrangling, Mrs. Bulkley, lately Miss Wilford, who had been the Miss + Richland of <i>The Good-Natured Man</i>, accepted the part which the + capricious Mrs. Abington resigned. + </p> + <p> + Another start was made with the rehearsals of the piece, and further + efforts were made by Colman to bring about the catastrophe which he had + predicted. He refused to let a single scene be painted for the production, + or to supply a single new dress; his ground being that the money spent in + this way would be thrown away, for the audience would never allow the + piece to proceed beyond the second act. + </p> + <p> + But happily Dr. Johnson had his reputation as a prophet at stake as well + as Colman, and he was singularly well equipped by Nature for enforcing his + views on any subject. He could not see anything of what was going on upon + the stage; but his laugh at the succession of humorous things spoken by + the company must have had an inspiring effect upon every one, except + Colman. Johnson's laugh was the strongest expression of appreciation of + humour of which the century has a record. It was epic. To say that + Johnson's laugh at the rehearsals of <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i> saved + the piece would perhaps be going too far. But can any one question its + value as a counteracting agent to Colman's depressing influence on the + stage? Johnson was the only man in England who could make Colman (and + every one else) tremble, and his laugh had the same effect upon the + building in which it was delivered. It was the Sirocco against a wet + blanket. When one thinks of the feeling of awe which was inspired by the + name of Dr. Johnson, not only during the last forty years of the + eighteenth century, but well into the nineteenth, one begins to appreciate + the value of his vehement expression of satisfaction upon the people on + the stage. Goldsmith dedicated his play to Johnson, and assuredly the + compliment was well earned. Johnson it was who compelled Colman to produce + the piece, and Johnson it was who encouraged the company to do their best + for it, in spite of the fact that they were all aware that their doing + their best for it would be resented by their manager. + </p> + <p> + Reynolds also, another valuable friend to the author, sacrificed several + of his busiest hours in order to attend the rehearsals. His sister's + sacrifices to the same end were perhaps not quite so impressive, nor were + those made by that ingenious “country gentleman,” Mr. Cradock, referred to + by Walpole. Miss Horneck, his beautiful “Jessamy Bride,” and her sister, + lately married to Mr. Bunbury, bore testimony to the strength of their + friendship for the poet, by accompanying him daily to the theatre. + </p> + <p> + But, after all, these good friends had not many opportunities of showing + their regard for him in the same way; for the play must have had + singularly few rehearsals. Scarcely a month elapsed between the date of + Colman's receiving the manuscript on its being returned by Garrick and the + production of the piece. It is doubtful if more than ten rehearsals took + place after the parts were recast. If the manager kept the author in + suspense for eighteen months respecting the fate of his play, he + endeavoured to make up for his dilatoriness now. It was announced for + Monday, March 15th, and, according to Northcote, it was only on the + morning of that day that the vexed question of what the title should be + was settled. For some time the author and his friends had been talking the + matter over. “We are all in labour for a name to Goldy's play,” wrote + Johnson. <i>The Mistakes of a Night, The Old House a New Inn, and The + Belle's Stratagem</i> were suggested in turn. It was Goldsmith himself who + gave it the title under which it was produced. + </p> + <p> + On the afternoon of this day, March 15th, the author was the guest at a + dinner-party organised in his honour. It is easy to picture this + particular function. The truth was that Colman's behaviour had broken the + spirit not only of the author, but of the majority of his friends as well. + They would all make an effort to cheer up poor Goldsmith; but every one + knows how cheerless a function is one that is organised with such + charitable intentions. It is not necessary that one should have been in a + court of law watching the face of the prisoner in the dock when the jury + have retired to consider their verdict in order to appreciate the feelings + of Goldsmith when his friends made their attempt to cheer him up. The last + straw added on to the cheerlessness of the banquet was surely to be found + in the accident that every one wore black! The King of Sardinia had died a + short time before, and the Court had ordered mourning to be worn for some + weeks for this potentate. Johnson was very nearly outraging propriety by + appearing in coloured raiment, but George Steevens, who called for him to + go to the dinner, was fortunately in time to prevent such a breach of + etiquette. “I would not for ten pounds have seemed so retrograde to any + general observance,” cried Johnson in offering his thanks to his + benefactor. Happily the proprieties were saved; but what must have been + the effect of the appearance of these gentlemen in black upon the person + whom they meant to cheer up! + </p> + <p> + Reynolds told his pupil, Northcote, what effect these resources of gaiety + had upon Goldsmith. His mouth became so parched that he could neither eat + nor drink, nor could he so much as speak in acknowledgment of the + well-meant act of his friends. When the party after this entertainment set + out for the theatre they must have suggested, all being in black, a more + sombre procession than one is accustomed to imagine when conjuring up a + picture of an eighteenth-century theatre party. + </p> + <p> + And Goldsmith was missing! + </p> + <p> + Unfortunately Boswell was not present, or we should not be left in doubt + as to how it happened that no one thought of taking charge of Goldsmith. + But no one seemed to think of him, and so his disappearance was never + noticed. His friends arrived at the theatre and found their places, + Johnson in the front row of the boxes; and the curtain was rung up, and + Goldsmith was forgotten under the influence of that comedy which + constitutes his greatest claim to be remembered by theatre-goers of + to-day. + </p> + <p> + He was found by an acquaintance a couple of hours later wandering in the + Mall of St. James's Park, and was only persuaded to go to the theatre by + its being represented to him that his services might be required should it + be found necessary to alter something at the last moment. + </p> + <p> + Now, among the members of that distinguished audience there was a man + named Cumberland. He was the author of <i>The West Indian</i> and several + other plays, and he was regarded as one of the leaders of the sentimental + school, the demise of which was satirised in the prologue to this very + play which was being performed. Cumberland was a man who could never see a + particle of good in anything that was written by another. It was a + standing entertainment with Garrick to “draw him on” by suggesting that + some one had written a good scene in a play, or was about to produce an + interesting book. In a moment Cumberland was up, protesting against the + assumption that the play or the book could be worth anything. So wide a + reputation had he for decrying every other author that when Sheridan + produced <i>The Critic; or, the Tragedy Rehearsed</i>, his portrait was + immediately recognised in Sir Fretful Plagiary. + </p> + <p> + What must have been the feelings of this man when, from the first, the + play, which he had come to wreck, was received by the whole house with + uproarious applause? Well, we don't know what he felt like, but we know + what he looked like. One of the newspapers described him as “looking + glum,” and another contained a rhymed epigram describing him as weeping. + Goldsmith entered the theatre by the stage door at the beginning of the + fifth act, where Tony Lumpkin and his mother appear close to their own + house, and the former pretends that the chaise has broken down on + Crackscull Common. He had no sooner got into the “wings” than he heard a + hiss. “What's that, sir?” he whispered to Colman, who was beside him. + “Psha, sir! what signifies a squib when we have been sitting on a barrel + of gunpowder all night?” was the reply. The story is well known; and its + accuracy has never been im peached. And the next day it was well known + that that solitary hiss came from Cumberland, the opinion that it was due + to the malevolence of Macpherson, whose pretensions to the discovery of <i>Ossian</i> + were exposed by Johnson, being discredited. + </p> + <p> + But the effect of Colman's brutality and falsehood into the bargain had + not a chance of lasting long. The hiss was received with cries of “Turn + him out!” and, with an addition to the tumultuous applause of all the + house, Goldsmith must have been made aware in another instant of the fact + that he had written the best comedy of the day and that Colman had lied to + him. From the first there had been no question of sitting on a barrel of + gunpowder. Such applause could never greet the last act of a play the + first four acts of which had been doubtful. He must have felt that at last + he had conquered—that he had by one more achievement proved to his + own satisfaction—and he was hard to satisfy—that those friends + of his who had attributed genius to him had not been mistaken; that those + who, like Johnson and Percy and Reynolds, had believed in him before he + had written the work that made him famous, had not been misled. + </p> + <p> + The next day all London was talking of <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i> and of + Colman. Horace Walpole, who detested Goldsmith, and who found when he went + to see the play that it was deplorably vulgar, mentioned in a letter which + he wrote to Lady Ossory on the morning after the production that it had + “succeeded prodigiously,” and the newspapers were full of epigrams at the + expense of the manager. If Colman had had the sense to keep to himself his + forebodings of the failure of the piece, he would not have left himself + open to these attacks; but, as has been said, he took as much pains to + decry the coming production as he usually did to “puff” other pieces. It + would seem that every one had for several days been talking about nothing + else save the coming failure of Dr. Goldsmith's comedy. Only on this + assumption can one now understand the poignancy of the “squibs”—some + of them partook largely of the character of his own barrel of gunpowder—levelled + against Colman. He must have been quite amazed at the clamour that arose + against him; it became too much for his delicate skin, and he fled to Bath + to get out of the way of the scurrilous humourists who were making him a + target for their pop-guns. But even at Bath he failed to find a refuge. + Writing to Mrs. Thrale, Johnson said: “Colman is so distressed with abuse + that he has solicited Goldsmith to take him off the rack of the + newspapers.” + </p> + <p> + It was characteristic of Goldsmith that he should do all that was asked of + him and that he should make no attempt, either in public or in private, to + exult in his triumph over the manager. The only reference which he made to + his sufferings while Colman was keeping him on the rack was in a letter + which he wrote to his friend Cradock, who had written an epilogue for the + play, to explain how it was that this epilogue was not used at the first + representation. After saying simply, “The play has met with a success + beyond your expectation or mine,” he makes his explanation, and concludes + thus: “Such is the history of my stage adventure, and which I have at last + done with. I cannot help saying that I am very sick of the stage, and + though I believe I shall get three tolerable benefits, yet I shall on the + whole be a loser, even in a pecuniary light; my ease and comfort I + certainly lost while it was in agitation.” + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith showed that he bore no grudge against Colman; but the English + stage should bear him a grudge for his treatment of one of the few authors + of real genius who have contributed to it for the benefit of posterity. If + <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i> had been produced when it first came into the + manager's hands, Goldsmith would certainly not have written the words just + quoted. What would have been the result of his accepting the encouragement + of its production it is, of course, impossible to tell; but it is not + going too far to assume that the genius which gave the world <i>The + Good-Natured Man</i> and <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i> would have been + equal to the task of writing a third comedy equal in merit to either of + these. Yes, posterity owes Colman a grudge. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE JESSAMY BRIDE + </h2> + <h3> + A PERSONAL NOTE + </h3> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>OR some time after + the publication of my novel <i>The Jessamy Bride</i> my time was fully + occupied by replying to correspondents—strangers to me—who + were good enough to take an interest in Mary Horneck, the younger of the + two charming sisters with whom Goldsmith associated for several years of + his life on terms of the warmest affection. The majority of these + communications were of a very interesting character. Only one + correspondent told me I should not have allowed Oliver Goldsmith to die so + young, though two expressed the opinion that I should have made Goldsmith + marry Mary Horneck; nearly all the remaining communications which were + addressed to me contained inquiries as to the origin of the sobriquet + applied to Mary Horneck in Goldsmith's epistle. To each and to all such + inquiries I have, alas! been compelled to return the humiliating reply + that I have not yet succeeded in finding out what was the origin of the + family joke which made Goldsmith's allusions to “The Jessamy Bride” and + “Little Comedy” intelligible to the “Devonshire Crew” of Hornecks and + Reynoldses. I have searched volume after volume in the hope of having even + the smallest ray of light thrown upon this matter, but I have met with no + success. I began to feel, as every post brought me a sympathetic inquiry + as to the origin of the pet name, that I should take the bold step of + confessing my ignorance to the one gentleman who, I was confident, could + enlighten it. “If Dr. Brewer does not know why Mary Horneck was called + 'The Jessamy Bride,' no one alive can know it,” was what I said to myself. + Before I could write to Dr. Brewer the melancholy new's came of his death; + and very shortly afterwards I got a letter from his daughter, Mrs. Brewer + Hayman, in which she mentioned that her lamented father had been greatly + interested in my story, and asked if I could tell her what was the meaning + of the phrase. + </p> + <p> + It does certainly seem extraordinary that no biographer of Goldsmith, of + Reynolds, or of Burke, should have thought it worth while writing a letter + to the “Jessamy Bride” herself to ask her why she was so called by + Goldsmith. The biographers of Goldsmith and the editors of Boswell seem to + have had no hesitation in stating that Mary Horneck was the “Jessamy + Bride,” and that her elder sister was “Little Comedy”; but they do not + appear to have taken a wider view of their duties than was comprised in + this bare statement. The gossipy Northcote was surely in the secret, and + he might have revealed the truth without detracting from the interest of + the many inaccuracies in his volume. Northcote had an opportunity of + seeing daily the portrait of Mary which Sir Joshua painted, and which hung + in his studio until the day of his death, when it passed into the + possession of the original, who had become Mrs. Gwyn, having married + Colonel, afterwards General, Gwyn. + </p> + <p> + But although up to the present I have not obtained even as much evidence + as would be termed a clue by the sanguine officers of Scotland Yard, as to + the origin of the sobriquet, I am not without hope that some day one of my + sympathetic correspondents will be able to clear up the matter for me. I + am strengthened in this hope by the fact that among those who were kind + enough to write to me, was a lady who can claim relationship to Mary + Horneck, and who did not hesitate to send to me a bundle of letters, + written in the early part of the century by the “Jessamy Bride” herself, + with permission to copy and print any portion of the correspondence that I + might consider of interest. Of this privilege I gladly avail myself, + feeling sure that the interest which undoubtedly attaches to many portions + of the letters will exculpate me for the intrusion of a personal note into + these papers. + </p> + <p> + The grandfather of my correspondent (Mrs. Cor-ballis, of Ratrath, co. + Meath, Ireland) was first cousin to the Hornecks. He was the Rev. George + Mangles, chaplain to George III when Mrs. Gwyn (Mary Horneck) was Woman of + the Bedchamber to the Queen. As General Gwyn was Equerry to the King it + can easily be understood that the two families should be on terms of the + most intimate friendship. My correspondent mentions that her mother, who + only died thirteen years ago, was almost every year a visitor at the house + of Mrs. Gwyn, at Kew, and said that she retained her beauty up to the very + last. Confirmation of this statement is to be found in a passage in the + “Jerningham Letters.” Lady Bedingfeld's Journal contains the following + entry opposite the date “September 19th, 1833”: + </p> + <p> + “When the Queen returned to the drawing-room we found several ladies + there. I observed a very old lady with striking remains of beauty, and + whose features seemed very familiar to me. I felt to know her features by + heart, and at last I heard her name, Mrs. Gwyn, the widow of a General, + and near ninety! I had never seen her before, but when I was a girl my + uncle the Poet, gave me a portrait of her, copied from Sir Jos. Reynolds, + small size in a Turkish costume and attitude. This picture is still at + Cossey, and of course must be very like her since it led me to find her + out.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0012" id="linkimage-0012"> </a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0261.jpg" alt="0261 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0261.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + The picture referred to must certainly have been “very like” the original, + for it was painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds in 1772, sixty-one years before. + The engraving of it cannot but make one feel how exquisite must have been + the charm of Goldsmith's young friend, who survived him by sixty-six + years; for Mrs. Gywn did not die until 1840. + </p> + <p> + Very pathetic indeed it is to look at the sweet girlish face, which + appears in this portrait and also in that of the two sisters done in chalk + by the same master-hand, and then to read some of the passages in the + letters in which the writer refers to her old age and feebleness. Happily, + with Lady Bedingfeld's diary before us, our imagination is not largely + drawn on for a picture of the “Jessamy Bride” broken down by age and + infirmity. The woman who can be easily recognised by a stranger at + seventy-nine by her likeness to a portrait painted at the age of eighteen, + would make Ninon de l'Enclos envious. + </p> + <p> + The letters are written to Mrs. Mangles, the widow of the Chaplain to + George III, and the majority touch upon private matters with + sprightliness, and occasionally a delicate humour, such as Goldsmith would + certainly have appreciated. We seem to hear, while reading these passages, + faint echoes of the girlish laughter which must have rung through that + room in the inn at Calais, when Goldsmith paced up and down in a mock fury + because two officers passing the window looked more eagerly at the girls + than at him. + </p> + <p> + It is obvious, however, that the Queen's Woman of the Bedchamber would + write occasionally to her friend on some topic of public interest; + consequently we find, in the course of the correspondence, many passages + which throw a flood of light upon the incidents of the day. In a letter + dated April 10th, 1818, + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Gwyn describes with great sprightliness the wedding of the Princess + Elizabeth, the third daughter of George III, with Prince Hesse-Hombourgh, + which took place three days before: + </p> + <p> + “I delayed to write till after the marriage to tell you about it, as you + seemed to wish it. We were all appointed at seven o'clock in the evening, + when I went as smart as I could make myself. I wore the lavender sattin + robe, the same you saw me wear at Court, as the shape was the same, and it + <i>saved buying</i>, trimmed with silver, a new white sattin petticoat, + with a white net and silver over it, no hoop, but a Court head dress, and + lappets down. The Company consisting of the great officers of state, and + ambassadors and their wives, and the different households were the + Company. + </p> + <p> + “At 8 all were assembled when the Royal family in procession according to + their rank, went into the great drawing-room in the Queen's house. The + Duke of York led the Queen, the Prince Regent not being quite recovered of + his gout, and it is said the remembrance of his poor daughter's marriage + was too painful to him to undertake it. Before the state canopy was set a + fine communion table, red velvet and gold, all the gold plate belonging to + that service arranged behind it, and 3 Bishops and other clergymen + standing behind the table, it looked very magnificent. Then came the <i>Hero</i>, + the Prince Hesse Hombourgh, he went up to the table and stood there, I + believe 10 minutes alone, he looked well a manly unembarassed figure, then + walked in the Bride glittering with silver and diamonds, and really looked + very handsome, and her behaviour and manner was as well as possible, grace + and quiet, when she knelt she wept, and then he approached nearer her in + case her emotion would require his care, which happily was not the case. + The Duke of York gave her away, and behaved very bad. The Prince Hombourgh + thought when he had said I will very loud and distinct, all was done, but + the Arch Bishop desired him to repeat after him, which he was therefore + obliged to do. He cannot speak English and made such works of it, it was + then the Duke of York laughed so, he was obliged to stuff his handkerchief + in his mouth to conceal it. He promised to love her. When all was over he + saluted his bride on each side the face, and then her hand, with a + good-natured frank manner, then led her to the Queen, whose hand only he + kissed, the rest of the Royal family he embraced after his own fashion, + and he led her off with a very good air, and did not seem to trouble his + head about his <i>English performance</i>.” The Princess Elizabeth—the + shy young bride who was so overcome with emotion—had scarcely more + than passed her forty-ninth year when she was borne to the altar, and the + hero of the hour was, we learn from other sources than Mrs. Gwyn's + letters, most unheroically sick when driving away in a close carriage with + his bride. + </p> + <p> + The Prince Regent's daughter, the Princess Charlotte, had died the + previous year, hence the marrying panic which seized all the other members + of the Royal Family, lest the dynasty should become extinct. It is + pleasing to reflect that such gloomy apprehensions have since been amply + averted. + </p> + <p> + Regarding the death of the Princess Charlotte Mrs. Gwyn writes: + </p> + <p> + “... While I was at Oatlands the Prince Leopold came to see the Duchess + and staid there 3 hours, no one but the Duchess saw him—she told me + he is more composed in his manners now when seen by people in general but + with her alone his grief seems the same and he is gratified by being + allowed to vent it to one who feels for him and knows how to soothe his + mind. I can not doubt the Princess's life and his child's were thrown + away, by mismanagement—she was so bled and starved she had no + strength left—her own fortitude and energy supported her till nature + could no more. I could tell you much on the subject but it would take up + too much in a letter and besides <i>it is over</i>. Dr. Crofts thought he + was doing for the best no doubt—It comes to what <i>I</i> always say + of them—they can't do much and are very often wrong in their + opinions as you can vouch....” + </p> + <p> + In another letter Mrs. Gywn's adopted daughter was her amanuensis. It + contains many paragraphs of interest, especially to present-day readers. + The girl writes: + </p> + <p> + “Mamma was of course summoned to attend the Duke of Cambridge's Wedding, + but she was not in the room when the Ceremony was performed as before, on + account of the Queen having been ill. Mamma admires the Duchess of + Cambridge very much: though she is not exactly handsome, she is very + pleasing, and a pretty figure, but I understand she must have a new stay + maker to set her up etc. The Duke of Kent and his bride are now expected. + The Duke of Clarence it is expected will be married shortly afterwards. We + hear the Duchess of Kent is a little woman with a handsome face, and the + Duchess of Clarence uncommonly ugly. We went to Windsor about a month ago + to see Princess Sophia as the Queen was not there, and Princess Sophia has + a small party every night. We were there three days, and Mamma went to the + party every evening, and indeed it was very very dull for her as they play + one pool of Commerce, and then they go to a game called Snip, Snap, + Snorum, and which Mamma could not play at well without a great deal of + trouble to herself, therefore she was obliged to look on for perhaps an + hour and half which you may imagine was terrible for her not hearing a + word. I was much pleased in one respect while I was there by seeing Dear + Prince Leopold whom I had never seen before, and who must be to every body + an object of so much interest. He looked to me the picture of grief and + melancholy, but those who have seen him repeatedly since his misfortune + say he improves every time they see him. Mrs. C.... went one day to see + Claremont and was very much pleased. All remains as Princess Charlotte + left it, but nobody sees her room in which she died but himself, even her + combs and brushes are untouched, and her hat and cloak are where she laid + them the day before she died. There are models of her hand and arm one in + particular as it is his hand clasped in hers. I suppose you have often + heard she had a very beautiful hand and arm, but I will not go on, on so + melancholy a subject; yet I am sure it must interest you.” + </p> + <p> + The Princess Sophia, who instituted the fascinating game referred to in + this letter, was, of course, the fifth daughter of George III. + </p> + <p> + In another letter reference is made to a certain scandal, which Mrs. Gwyn + contradicts most vehemently. Even nowadays this particular bit of gossip + is remembered by some persons; but at the risk of depriving these pages of + the piquancy which attaches to a Court scandal, I will not quote it, but + conclude this Personal Note with what seems to me a most pathetic account + of the dying king: + </p> + <p> + “We continue in a state of great anxiety about our dear King, whose state + is distressing. Certainly no hope of recovery, and the chances of his + continuance very doubtful. His death may be any day, any hour, or he may + continue some <i>little</i> time longer, it depends on nature holding out + against sore disease, which afflicts him universally, and occasions great + suffering, this is heartbreaking to hear! and his patience and courage and + sweet and kind behaviour to all about him is most touching, so + affectionate to his friends and attendants, and thankful for their + attention and feeling for him. He will hold the hand of the Duchess of + Gloster or S. H. Halford for an hour at a time out of tenderness, till + excessive suffering ends it. He wishes to die in peace and charity with + all the world, and has reconciled himself to the Duke of Sussex. He hopes + his people have found him a merciful King. He says he never hurt anyone, + and that, he may truly say as his first wish to <i>all</i> was good and + benevolent, and ever ready to forgive.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE AMAZING ELOPEMENT + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>N a certain + evening in March, 1772, the fashionable folk of Bath were as earnestly on + pleasure bent as they were wont to be at this season—and every + other. The Assembly Rooms were open, a performance was going on at the + theatre, the Cave of Harmony was as musical as Pyrrha's Grotto, a + high-class concert was taking place under the conductorship of the + well-known Mr. Linley, and the Countess of Huntingdon was holding a prayer + meeting. For people who took their diversions <i>à la carte</i>, there was + a varied and an abundant menu. Chairs containing precious structures of + feathers, lace, and jewels towering over long faces powdered and patched + and painted <i>à la mode</i>, were swinging along the streets in every + direction, some with a brace of gold-braided lackeys by each of the + windows, but others in charge only of the burly chairmen. + </p> + <p> + Unobtrusive among the latter class of conveyance was one that a young + gentleman, a tall and handsome lad, called from its rank between + Pierrepont Street and the South Parade. He gave the bearers instructions + to hasten to the house of Mr. Linley in the Crescent, and to inquire if + Miss Linley were ready. + </p> + <p> + If she were not, he told them that they were to wait for her and carry out + her directions. The fellows touched their hats and swung off with their + empty chair. + </p> + <p> + The young man then went to a livery stable, and putting a few confidential + inquiries to the proprietor, received a few confidential replies, + accentuated by a wink or two, and a certain quick uplifting of a knuckly + forefinger that had an expression of secretiveness of its own. + </p> + <p> + “Mum's the word, sir, and mum it shall be,” whispered the man. “I stowed + away the trunk, leaving plenty of room for the genuine luggage—lady's + luggage, Mr. Sheridan. You know as well as I can tell you, sir, being + young but with as shrewd knowingness of affairs in general as might be + looked for in the son of Tom Sheridan, to say nought of a lady like your + mother, meaning to take no liberty in the world, Mr. Dick, as they call + you.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm obliged to you, Denham, and I'll not forget you when this little + affair is happily over. The turn by the 'Bear' on the London Road, we + agreed.” + </p> + <p> + “And there you'll find the chaise, sir, and as good a pair as ever left my + stable, and good luck to you, sir!” said the man. + </p> + <p> + Young Mr. Sheridan then hastened to his father's house in King's Mead + Street, and was met by an anxious sister in the hall. + </p> + <p> + “Good news, I hope, Dick?” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “I have been waiting for you all the evening. She has not changed her + mind, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “She is as steadfast as I am,” said he. “If I could not swear that she + would be steadfast, I would not undertake this business on her behalf. + When I think of our father——” + </p> + <p> + “Don't think of him except as applauding your action,” said the girl. + “Surely every one with the least spark of generosity will applaud your + action, Dick.” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't like to say so much,” said Dick, shaking his head. “Mathews + has his friends. No man could know so much about whist as he does without + having many friends, even though he be a contemptible scoundrel when he is + not employed over a rubber.” + </p> + <p> + “Who will dare to take the part of Mr. Mathews against you, Dick?” cried + his sister, looking at him proudly as the parlour candles shone upon him. + “I would that I could go with you as far as London, dear, but that would + be impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite impossible; and where would be the merit in the end?” said Dick, + pacing the room as he believed a man of adventure and enterprise would in + the circumstances. “You may trust to me to place her in safety without the + help of any one.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it, Dick, I know it, dear, and I am proud of you,” said she, + putting her arms about his neck and kissing him. “And look you here, + Dick,” she added, in a more practical tone. “Look you here—I find + that I can spare another five pounds out of the last bill that came from + Ireland. We shall live modestly in this house until you return to us.” + </p> + <p> + He took the coins which she offered to him wrapped up in a twist of + newspaper; but he showed some hesitation—she had to go through a + form of forcing it upon him. + </p> + <p> + “I hope to bring it back to you unbroken,” he murmured; “but in affairs of + this sort it is safest to have a pound or two over, rather than under, + what is barely needful. That is why I take your coins,—a loan—a + sacred loan. Good-bye, I returned only to say good-bye to you, my dearest + sister.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew your good heart, Dick, that was why I was waiting for you. + Good-bye, Dick, and God bless you.” + </p> + <p> + He was putting on his cloak in the hall. He saw that the pistols were in + its pockets, and then he suffered his sister to give him another kiss + before he passed into the dark street. + </p> + <p> + He felt for his pistols, and with a hand on each he felt that he was + indeed fairly launched upon a great adventure. + </p> + <p> + He made his way to the London road, and all the time he was wondering if + the girl would really come to him in the Sedan chair which he had sent for + her. To be sure she had promised to come upon this evening, but he knew + enough of the great affairs of this world to be well aware of the fact + that the sincerest promise of a maid may be rendered worthless by the + merest freak of Fate. Therefore, he knew that he did well to be doubtful + respecting the realisation of her promise. She was the beautiful Miss + Linley—every one in Bath knew her, and this being so, was it not + likely that some one—some prying person—some impudent fellow + like that Mathews who had been making love to her, although he had a wife + of his own in Wales—might catch a glimpse of her face through the + glass of the chair when passing a lamp or a link, and be sufficiently + curious to follow her chair to see whither she was going? + </p> + <p> + That was a likely enough thing to happen, and if it did happen and the + alarm of his flight with her were given, what chance would he have of + carrying out his purpose? Why, the chaise would be followed, and even if + it was not overtaken before London was reached, the resting-place of the + fugitives would certainly be discovered in London, and they should be + ignominiously brought back to Bath. Yes, unless Mathews were the pursuer, + in which case—— + </p> + <p> + Mr. Richard Brinsley Sheridan grasped more firmly the butt of the pistol + in the right-hand pocket of his cloak. He felt at that moment that should + Mathews overtake them, the going back to Bath would be on the part only of + Mathews. + </p> + <p> + But how would it be if Mr. Linley had become apprised of his daughter's + intention to fly from Bath? He knew very well that Mr. Linley had the best + of reasons for objecting to his daughter's leaving Bath. Mr. Linley's + income was increased by several hundred pounds by reason of the payments + made to him on account of his daughter's singing in public, and he was—very + properly, considering his large family—fond of money. Before he had + to provide for his family, he took good care that his family—his + eldest daughter particularly—helped to provide for him. + </p> + <p> + Doubtless these eventualities were suggested to him—for young Mr. + Sheridan was not without imagination—while on his way through the + dark outskirts of the beautiful city to the London Road. The Bear Inn was + just beyond the last of the houses. It stood at the junction of the London + Road and a narrower one leading past a couple of farms. It was here that + he had given instructions for the chaise to wait for him, and here he + meant to wait for the young lady who had promised to accompany him to + London—and further. + </p> + <p> + He found the chaise without trouble. It was under the trees not more than + a hundred yards down the lane, but the chair, with Miss Linley, had not + yet arrived, so he returned to the road and began to retrace his steps, + hoping to meet it, yet with some doubts in his mind. Of course, he was + impatient. Young gentlemen under twenty-one are usually impatient when + awaiting the arrival of the ladies who have promised to run away with + them. He was not, however, kept in suspense for an unconscionably long + time. He met the chair which he was expecting just when he had reached the + last of the lamps of Bath, and out of it stepped the muffled form of Miss + Linley. The chairmen were paid with a lavish hand, and Dick Sheridan and + Betsy Linley walked on to the chaise without exchanging any but a friendly + greeting—there was nothing lover-like in their meeting or their + greeting. The elopement was not that of a young woman with her lover; it + was, we are assured, that of a young woman anxious to escape from the + intolerable position of being the most popular person in the most + fashionable city in England, to the peaceful retreat of a convent; and the + young man who was to take charge of her was one whom she had chosen for + her guardian, not for her lover. Dick Sheridan seems to have been the only + young man in Bath who had never made love to Elizabeth Linley. His elder + brother, Charles by name, had discharged this duty on behalf of the + Sheridan family, and he was now trying to live down his disappointment at + being refused, at a farmhouse a mile or two away. The burden was greater + than he could bear when surrounded by his sisters in their father's house + in King's Mead Street. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0013" id="linkimage-0013"> </a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0277.jpg" alt="0277 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0277.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + Elizabeth Linley was certainly the most popular young woman in Bath; she + certainly was the most beautiful. The greatest painters of her day made + masterpieces of her portrait, and for once, posterity acknowledges that + the fame of her beauty was well founded. So spiritual a face as hers is to + be seen in no eighteenth-century picture except that of Miss Linley; one + has need to go back to the early Italian painters to find such + spirituality in a human face, and then one finds it combined with absolute + inanity, and the face is called Divine. Reynolds painted her as Saint + Cecilia drawing down angels, and blessedly unconscious of her own powers, + thinking only of raising herself among angels on the wings of song. His + genius was never better employed and surely never more apparent than in + the achievement of this picture. Gainsborough painted her by the side of + her younger brother, and one feels that if Reynolds painted a saint, + Gainsborough painted a girl. It was Bishop O'Beirne, an old friend of her + family and acquainted with her since her childhood, who said: “She is a + link between an angel and a woman.” + </p> + <p> + And this exquisite creature had a voice of so sympathetic a quality that + no one could hear it unmoved. Her father had made her technique perfect. + He was a musician who was something more than painstaking. He had taste of + the highest order, and it is possible to believe that in the training of + his eldest daughter he was wise enough to limit his instruction to the + technicalities of his art, leaving her to the inspiration of her own + genius in regard to the treatment of any theme which he brought before + her. + </p> + <p> + At any rate her success in the sublimest of all oratorios was far beyond + anything that could be achieved by an exhibition of the finest technical + qualities; and Mr. Linley soon became aware of the fact that he was the + father of the most beautiful and the most highly gifted creature that ever + made a father miserable. + </p> + <p> + Incidentally she made a great many other men miserable, but that was only + because each of them wanted her to make him happy at the expense of the + others, and this she was too kind-hearted to do. But the cause of her + father's grief was something different. It was due to the fact that the + girl was so sensitive that she shrank from every exhibition of herself and + her ability on a public platform. It was an agony to her to hear the + tumultuous applause that greeted her singing at a concert or in an + oratorio. She seemed to feel—let any one look at the face which is + to be seen in her portrait, and one will understand how this could be—that + music was something too spiritual to be made the medium only for the + entertainment of the multitude. Taking the highest imaginable view of the + scope and value and meaning of music, it can be understood that this girl + should shrink from such an ordeal as the concert platform offered to her + every time she was announced to sing. No more frivolous and fashionable a + population than that of Bath in the second half of the eighteenth century + was to be found in any city in the world; and Elizabeth Linley felt that + she was regarded by the concert-goers as no more than one of the numerous + agents they employed to lessen the ennui of an empty day. The music which + she worshipped—the spirit with which her soul communed in secret—was, + she felt, degraded by being sold to the crowd and subjected to the + patronage of their applause. + </p> + <p> + Of course when she spoke to her father in this strain he sympathised with + her, and bemoaned the fate that made it necessary for him to have her + assistance to save her mother and brothers and sisters from starvation. + And so for several years she was an obedient child, but very weary of the + rôle. She sang and enchanted thousands. She did not, however, think of + them; her mind dwelt daily upon the tens of thousands who regarded her + (she thought) as fulfilling no nobler purpose than to divert them for half + an hour between taking the waters and sitting down to faro or quadrille. + </p> + <p> + But it was not alone her distaste for the publicity of the platform that + made her miserable. The fact was that she was distracted by suitors. She + had, it was said, accepted the offer of an elderly gentleman named Long, + the wealthy head of a county family in the neighbourhood; and Foote, with + his usual vulgarity, which took the form of personality, wrote a play—a + wretched thing even for Foote—in which he dealt with an imaginarily + comic and a certainly sordid situation, with Miss Linley on the one side + and Mr. Long on the other. Serious biographers have not hesitated to + accept this situation invented by the notorious <i>farceur</i>, who was no + greater a respecter of persons than he was of truth, as a valuable + contribution to the history of the Linley family, especially in regard to + the love affair of the lovely girl by whose help they were made famous. + They have never thought of the possibility of her having accepted Mr. Long + in order to escape from her horror of the concert platform. They have + never suggested the possibility of Mr. Long's settling a sum of money on + her out of his generosity when he found out that Miss Linley did not love + him. + </p> + <p> + It was not Mr. Long, however, but a man named Mathews—sometimes + referred to as Captain, occasionally as Major—who was the immediate + cause of her running away with young Sheridan. This man Mathews was known + to be married, and to be in love with Elizabeth Linley, and yet he was + allowed to be constantly in her company, pestering her with his + attentions, and there was no one handy to horsewhip him. Sheridan's + sister, who afterwards married Mr. Lefanu, wrote an account of this + curious matter for the guidance of Thomas Moore, who was preparing his + biography of her brother. She stated that Miss Linley was afraid to tell + her father of Major Mathews and his impossible suit, and so she was “at + length induced to consult Richard Sheridan, whose intimacy with Major + Mathews, at the time, she thought might warrant his interference.” And + then we are told that “R. B. Sheridan sounded Mathews on the subject and + at length prevailed on him to give up the pursuit.” + </p> + <p> + That is how the adoring sister of “R. B. Sheridan,” who had been talking + to Elizabeth Linley of him as of a knight-errant, eager to redress the + wrongs of maidens in distress, wrote of her brother! He “sounded Mathews + on the subject.” On what subject? The subject was the pursuit of an + innocent girl by a contemptible scoundrel. How does the knight-errant + “sound” such a person when he sets out to redress the maiden's + ill-treatment? One R. B. Sheridan, a dramatist, gives us a suggestion as + to what were his ideas on this point: “Do you think that Achilles or my + little Alexander the Great ever enquired where the right lay? No, sir, + they drew their broadswords and left the lazy sons of peace to settle the + rights of the matter.” Now young Sheridan, who is reported by his sister + as “sounding” Mathews, was no coward. He proved himself to be anything but + afraid of Mathews, so that one must, out of justice to him, assume that + the only attempt he would have made to “sound” the scoundrel at this time + would be through the medium of a sound hiding. + </p> + <p> + It is at such a point as this in the biography of an interesting man that + one blesses the memory—and the notebook—of the faithful + Boswell. Thomas Moore was quite intimate with Richard Brinsley Sheridan, + but he never thought of asking him for some information on this particular + incident in his life, the fact being that he had no definite intention of + becoming his biographer. We know perfectly well how Boswell would have + plied Johnson with questions on the subject, had it ever come to his ears + that Johnson had undertaken to play the rôle of a knight-errant. + </p> + <p> + “Pray, sir, what did you say to Mathews when you sounded him?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think, sir, that in any circumstances a married gentleman who is + showing marked attentions to a virtuous young lady should be sounded by a + young gentleman who has been entrusted with the duty of protecting the + lady?” + </p> + <p> + Alas! instead of the unblushing indelicacy of Boswell, who hunted for + trifles as a pig hunts for truffles, we are obliged to be content with the + vagueness of a sister, whose memory, we have an uneasy feeling, was not + quite so good as she thought it was. + </p> + <p> + And from the memory of this sister we have an account of the amazing + elopement of Richard Sheridan with Elizabeth Linley. + </p> + <p> + When the young gentleman put her into the chaise that was waiting for them + on the London road, Miss Linley had never thought of him except as a kind + friend. She had accepted his services upon this occasion as she would + those of a courier to conduct her to London, and thence to France, where + she intended to enter a convent. The Miss Sheridans had lived in France, + and had some friends at St. + </p> + <p> + Quentin, who knew of a very nice clean convent—an establishment + which they could strongly recommend, and where she could find that + complete seclusion which Miss Linley longed for, and their brother Dick + was thought to be a very suitable companion for her on her way thither. + Mrs. Lefanu (<i>née</i> Sheridan), who wrote out the whole story in after + years, mentioned that her chivalrous brother was to provide a woman to act + as her maid in the chaise; but as not the least reference to this chaperon + is to be found in the rest of the story, we fear that it must be assumed + either that her brother forgot this unimportant detail, or that the detail + was unavoidably detained in Bath. What is most likely of all is that the + solitary reference to this mysterious female was dovetailed, somewhat + clumsily, into the narrative, at the suggestion of some Mrs. Grundy, who + shook her head at the narrative of so much chivalry unsupported by a + responsible chaperon. However this may be, the shadowy chaperon is never + alluded to again; she may have faded away into the mists of morning and + London, or she may have vanished at the first turnpike. Nothing was seen + or heard of her subsequently. + </p> + <p> + The boy and the girl reached London in safety, and drove to the house of a + Mr. Ewart, a relation of the Sheridans, to whom Dick offered the + explanation of his unconventional visit on the very plausible grounds of + his being engaged to the young lady, a great heiress, whom he was + hastening to France to marry. Of course the Ewart family were perfectly + satisfied with this explanation; and another friend, who had indisputable + claims to consideration, being, we are told, “the son of a respectable + brandy merchant in the City,” suggested that they should sail from London + to Dunkirk, “in order to make pursuit more difficult.” How such an end + could be compassed by such means is left to the imagination of a reader. + The young pair, however, jumped at the suggestion, and reached Dunkirk + after an uneventful crossing. + </p> + <p> + It is at this point in the sister's account of the itinerary of this + interesting enterprise that she mentions that Richard suddenly threw away + the disguise of the chivalrous and disinterested protector of the young + lady, and declared that he would not consent to conduct her to the convent + unless she agreed to marry him immediately. Mrs. Lefanu's exact words are + as follows: “After quitting Dunkirk Mr. Sheridan was more explicit with + Miss Linley as to his views on accompanying her to France.” + </p> + <p> + This is certainly a very lawyer-like way of condoning the conduct of a + mean scoundrel; but, happily for the credit of Richard Brinsley Sheridan, + it is the easiest thing in the world to discredit his sister's narrative, + although she adds that he urged on the girl what would seem to a casual + observer of society in general to be perfectly true—“she must be + aware that after the step she had taken, she could not appear in England + but as his wife.” As the sequel proved this alleged statement was quite + untrue! She did appear in England, and not as his wife, and no one seemed + to think anything the worse of her on account of her escapade. But to + suggest that Sheridan took advantage of the trust which the innocent girl + had reposed in him to compel her to marry him, a penniless minor with no + profession and very little education, is scarcely consistent with an + account of his high-mindedness and his sense of what was chivalrous. + </p> + <p> + And then the sister pleasantly remarks that “Miss Linley, who really + preferred him greatly to any person, was not difficult to persuade, and at + a village not far from Calais the marriage ceremony was performed by a + priest who was known to be often employed upon such occasions.” Whoever + this clergyman may have been, it is impossible for any one to believe that + in the discharge of his office he was kept in constant employment; for + “such occasions” as answered to the account given by the Sheridan sister + of the nuptials of the young couple, must have been extremely rare. + </p> + <p> + And yet Moore, on whom the responsibilities of a biographer rested very + lightly, was quite content to accept as strictly accurate the narrative of + Mrs. Lefanu, contradicted though it was by subsequent events in which both + her brother and Miss Linley were concerned. Moore does not seem to have + troubled himself over any attempt to obtain confirmation of one of the + most important incidents in the life of the man of whom he was writing. + </p> + <p> + He made no attempt to discover if the accommodating priest at the village + near Calais was still alive when he was compiling his biography of + Sheridan, and it was not beyond the bounds of possibility that he was + still alive; nor did this easy-going Irish master of melodies consider + that it devolved on him to try to find some record of the marriage in + question. + </p> + <p> + Now what happened after this remarkable union? The narrative of the sister + is quite as circumstantial as one could wish it to be, and even more + imaginative. But whatever qualities of excellence it possesses, it + certainly does not carry to a reader any conviction of accuracy. It states + that the interesting young couple went to Lille instead of carrying out + their original intention of going to St. Quentin, and that Miss Linley—now + Mrs. Sheridan, of course—“immediately secured an apartment in a + convent, where it was settled she was to remain either till Sheridan came + of age or till he was in a situation to support a wife. He remained a few + days at Lille to be satisfied that she was settled to her satisfaction; + but, whether from agitation of mind or fatigue, she was taken ill, and an + English physician, Dr. Dolman, of York, was called in to attend her. From + what he perceived of her case he wished to have her more immediately under + his care than he could in the convent, and he and Mrs. Dolman most kindly + invited her to their house.” + </p> + <p> + This would seem to have been very kind indeed on the part of the doctor + and his wife, but it so happened that a letter turned up some years ago + which the late Mr. Fraser Rae was able to print in the first volume of his + admirable <i>Life of Sheridan</i>, and this letter makes it plain that + wherever Mrs. Sheridan (<i>née</i> Linley) may have been, she was not + sojourning with the Dolmans. It is from Dr. Dolman himself, and it was + addressed to “Monsieur Sherridan, Gentilhomme Anglois, à l'Hôtel de + Bourbon, Sur la Grande Place.” It recommends the administering of certain + powders in a glass of white wine twice daily, and sends “compliments and + wishes of health to your lady.” + </p> + <p> + The question then remains: Was the lady at this time an inmate of the + convent, and did the doctor expect “Monsieur Sherridan” to go to this + institution twice a day in order to administer the powders to his lady? + Would not the doctor think it somewhat peculiar that the husband should be + at the Hôtel de Bourbon and his lady an inmate of the convent? + </p> + <p> + These questions must be left to be answered according to the experience of + life of any one interested in the matter. But it is worth noticing that, + on the very day that he received the missive from Dr. Dolman, Sheridan + wrote to his brother at Bath and mentioned that Miss Linley—he + continued to call her Miss Linley—was now “fixing in a convent, + where she has been entered some time.” Does the first phrase mean that she + was already in the convent, or only about to take up her residence there? + However this question may be answered, it is clear that Sheridan expected + to leave her behind him at Lille, for he adds, “Everything is now so + happily settled here I will delay no longer giving you that information, + though probably I shall set out for England without knowing a syllable of + what has happened with you.” + </p> + <p> + So far, then, as his emprise in regard to the lady was concerned, he + considered the incident to be closed. “Though you may have been ignorant + for some time of our proceedings, you could never have been uneasy,” he + continues hopefully, “lest anything should tempt me to depart, even in a + thought, from the honour and consistency which engaged me at first.” + </p> + <p> + Some people have suggested that Sheridan, when he drew the character of + Charles Surface, meant it to be something of an excuse for his own casual + way of life. But it must strike a good many persons who believe that he + induced the innocent girl, whom he set forth to protect on her way to a + refuge from the infamous designs of Mathews, to marry him, that Sheridan + approached much more closely to the character of Joseph in this + correspondence with his brother. A more hypocritical passage than that + just quoted could hardly have been uttered by Joseph Surface. As a matter + of fact, one of Joseph's sentiments is only a paraphrase of this unctuous + assumption of honour and consistency. + </p> + <p> + But this criticism is only true if one can believe his sister's story of + the marriage. If it is true that Sheridan set out from England with Miss + Linley with the intention of so compromising her that she should be + compelled to marry him, at the same time pretending to her and to his + brother to be actuated by the highest motives in respect of the ill-used + girl, it is impossible to think of him except with contempt. + </p> + <p> + Happily the weight of evidence is overpoweringly in Sheridan's favour. We + may think of him as a rash, an inconsiderate, and a culpably careless boy + to take it upon him to be the girl's companion to the French convent, but + we refuse to believe that he was ever capable of acting the grossly + disingenuous part attributed to him by his sister, and accepted without + question by his melodious biographer. There are many people, however, who + believe that when a man marries a woman, no matter in what circumstances, + he has “acted the part of a gentleman” in regard to her, and must be held + to be beyond reproach on any account whatsoever so far as the woman is + concerned. In the eyes of such censors of morality, as in the eyes of the + law, the act of marriage renders null and void all ante-nuptial deeds; and + it was probably some impression of this type which was acquired by + Sheridan's sister, inducing her to feel sure (after a time) that her + brother's memory would suffer if his biographer were to tell the story of + his inconsiderate conduct in running away with Elizabeth Linley, unless it + was made clear that he married her the first moment he had to spare. She + tried to save her brother's memory by persuading her own to accommodate + itself to what she believed to be her brother's emergency. She was a good + sister, and she kept her memory well under control. + </p> + <p> + But what did the father of the young lady think of the matter? What did + the people of Bath, who were well acquainted with all the actors engaged + in this little comedy, think of the matter? Happily these questions can be + answered by appealing to facts rather than to the well-considered + recollections of a discreet lady. + </p> + <p> + We know for certain that Mr. Linley, who was, as one might suppose, fully + equipped to play the part of the enraged father of the runaway girl, + turned up at the place of her retreat—he had no trouble in learning + in what direction to look for her—and having found her and the young + gentleman who had run away with her, did he, under the impulse of his + anger, fanned by his worldly knowledge, insist with an uplifted horsewhip + upon his marrying her without a moment's delay? Mr. Linley knew Bath, and + to know Bath was to know the world. Was he, then, of the same opinion as + that expressed (according to his sister's narrative) by young Sheridan to + persuade Miss Linley to be his bride—namely, that it would be + impossible for her to show her face in Bath unless as the wife of Richard + Brinsley Sheridan? + </p> + <p> + Nothing of the sort. Whatever reproaches he may have flung at his + daughter, however strong may have been his denunciation of the conduct of + the man who had run away with her, they had not the effect either of + inducing his daughter or her companion to reveal to him the fact that they + had been married for several days, or of interrupting the friendly + relations that had existed for nearly two years between himself and young + Sheridan. The dutiful memory of Miss Sheridan records that Mr. Linley, + “after some private conversation with Mr. Sheridan, appeared quite + reconciled to his daughter, but insisted on her returning to England with + him (Mr. Linley) to fulfil several engagements he had entered into on her + account. The whole party set out together the next day, Mr. Linley having + previously promised to allow his daughter to return to Lille when her + engagements were over.” + </p> + <p> + The comedy of the elopement had become a farce of the “whimsical” type. + Nothing more amusing or amazing has ever been seen on the vaudeville + stage. The boy and the girl run off together and get married. The + infuriated father follows them, ruthlessly invades their place of refuge, + and then, “after some private conversation” with his daughter's husband, + who does not tell him that he is her husband, says to the young woman, “My + dear, you must come home with me to sing at a concert.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, papa,” replies the girl. “Wait a minute, and I'll go too,” + cries the unconfused husband of the daughter. “All right, come along,” + says the father, and they all take hands and sing the ridiculous trio + which winds up the vaudeville after it has run on inconsequentially for a + merry forty minutes—there is a <i>pas de trois</i>, and the curtain + falls! + </p> + <p> + Alas, for the difference between Boswell the bald and Moore the melodious! + The bald prose of Boswell's diaries may have made many of the personages + with whom he dealt seem silly, but that was because he himself was silly, + and, being aware of this fact, the more discriminating of his readers have + no great difficulty in arriving at the truth of any matter with which he + deals. He would never have accepted unreservedly such a narrative as that + which Moore received from Mrs. Lefanu (<i>née</i> Sheridan), and put into + his own language, or as nearly into his own language as he could. But + Moore found it “so hard to narrate familiar events eloquently,” he + complained. He actually thought that Mrs. Lefanu's narrative erred on the + side of plausibility! The mysterious elopement, the still more mysterious + marriage, and the superlatively mysterious return of the fugitives and the + irate father hand-in-hand, he regarded as events so commonplace as not to + be susceptible of lyrical treatment. But the most farcical of the doings + of his own <i>Fudge Family</i> were rational in comparison with the + familiar events associated with the flight to France of his hero and + heroine. The <i>Trip to Scarborough</i> of Sheridan the farce-writer was + founded on much more “familiar events” than this extraordinary trip to + Lille, as narrated for the benefit of the biographer by Mrs. Lefanu. + </p> + <p> + What seems to be the truth of the whole matter is simply that Sheridan + undertook to be a brother to Elizabeth Linley, and carried out his compact + faithfully, without allowing anything to tempt him to depart, as he wrote + to Charles, “even in thought from the honour and consistency which engaged + [him] at first.” It must be remembered that he was a romantic boy of + twenty, and this is just the age at which nearly every boy—especially + a boy in love—is a Sir Galahad. As for Miss Linley, one has only to + look at her portrait to know what she was. She was not merely innocent, + she was innocence itself. + </p> + <p> + When Mr. Linley appeared at Lille he accepted without reserve the + explanation offered to him by his daughter and by Sheridan; and, moreover, + he knew that although there was a school for scandal located at Bath, yet + so highly was his daughter thought of in all circles, and so greatly was + young Sheridan liked, that no voice of calumny would be raised against + either of them when they returned with him. And even if it were possible + that some whisper, with its illuminating smile above the arch of a painted + fan, might be heard in the Assembly Rooms when some one mentioned the name + of Miss Linley in connection with that of young Sheridan and with the trip + to Lille, he felt convinced that such a whisper would be robbed of its + sting when every one knew that the girl and the boy and the father all + returned together and on the best terms to Bath. + </p> + <p> + As the events proved, he had every right to take even so sanguine a view + of the limitations of the range of the Pump Room gossips. On the return of + the three from Lille no one suggested that Sheridan and Miss Linley should + get married. No one except the scoundrel Mathews suggested that Sheridan + had acted badly or even unwisely, though undoubtedly he had given grounds + for such implications. The little party returned to Bath, and Miss Linley + fulfilled her concert and oratorio engagements, went into society as + before, and had at her feet more eligible suitors than had ever knelt + there. We have it on the authority of Charles Sheridan, the elder brother, + that in Bath the feeling was that Richard had acted as a man of honour in + taking the girl to the convent at Lille. Writing to their uncle, Mr. + Chamberlaine, he expressed surprise that “in this age when the world does + not abound in Josephs, most people are (notwithstanding the general + tendency of mankind to judge unfavourably) inclined to think that he + (Richard) acted with the strictest honour in his late expedition with Miss + L., when the circumstances might allow of their being very dubious on this + head without incurring the imputation of being censorious.” + </p> + <p> + This testimony as to what was the opinion in Bath regarding the expedition + is extremely valuable, coming as it does from one who was never greatly + disposed to take a brotherly or even a friendly view of Richard's conduct + at any time—coming as it does also from a man who had been in love + with Miss Linley. + </p> + <p> + At any rate this escapade of young Mr. Sheridan was the most fortunate for + him of any in which he ever engaged, and he was a man of many escapades, + for it caused Elizabeth Linley to fall in love with him, and never was a + man beloved by a sweeter or more faithful woman. To know how beautiful was + her nature one has only to look at her face in either of the great + portraits of her which are before us to-day. No characteristic of all that + is held to be good and gracious and sympathetic—in one word, that is + held to be womanly, is absent from her face. No man that ever lived was + worthy of such a woman; but if only men who are worthy of such women were + beloved by them, mankind would be the losers. She loved Sheridan with the + truest devotion—such devotion as might be expected from such a + nature as hers—and she died in the act of writing to him the + love-letter of a wife to her dearly loved husband. + </p> + <p> + They did not get married until a year after the date of their flight to + the Continent, and then they were described as bachelor and spinster. + Neither of them ever gave a hint, even in any of the numerous letters + which they exchanged during this period, that they had gone through the + ceremony of marriage at that village near Calais. More than once a + strained situation would have been relieved had it been possible to make + such a suggestion, for now and again each of the lovers grew jealous of + the other for a day or two. But neither said, “Pray remember that you are + not free to think of marrying any one. We are husband and wife, although + we were married in secret.” Neither of them could make such an assertion. + It would not have been true. What seems to us to be the truth is that it + was Sir Galahad who acted as protector to his sister when Richard Brinsley + Sheridan went with Elizabeth Linley to France. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE AMAZING DUELS + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HEN young Mr. + Sheridan returned to Bath after his happy little journey to France with + Miss Linley and back with Mr. Linley, he may have believed that the + incident was closed. He had done all that—and perhaps a little more + than—the most chivalrous man of experience and means could be + expected to do for the young woman toward whom he had stood in the + position of a protecting brother. He had conducted her to the convent at + Lille, on which she had set her heart, and he had been able to explain + satisfactorily to her father on his arrival at the hotel where he and Miss + Linley were sojourning in the meantime, what his intentions had been when + he had eloped with her from Bath. No doubt he had also acted as Miss + Linley's adviser in respect of those negotiations with her father which + resulted in the happy return of the whole family party to London. + </p> + <p> + In London he heard that Mathews, the scoundrel who had been pursuing Miss + Linley in the most disreputable fashion, was in town also, and that, + previous to leaving Bath, he had inserted in the Chronicle a defamatory + advertisement regarding him (Sheridan); and on this information coming to + his ears he put his pistols into his pocket and went in search of Mathews + at the lodgings of the latter. + </p> + <p> + Miss Sheridan tells us about the pistols in the course of her lucid + narrative, and states on her own responsibility that when he came upon + Mathews the latter was dreadfully frightened at the sight of one of the + pistols protruding from Sheridan's pocket. Mr. Fraser Rae, the competent + biographer of Sheridan, smiles at the lady's statement. “The sight of the + pistols would have alarmed Sheridan's sisters,” he says, “but it is in + accordance with probability that he (Mathews) expected a hostile meeting + to follow as a matter of course. He must have been prepared for it, and he + would have been strangely ignorant of the world in which he lived if he + had deemed it unusual.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0014" id="linkimage-0014"> </a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0301.jpg" alt="0301 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0301.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + But Mr. Fraser Rae was not so strangely ignorant of the world in which + Sheridan and Mathews lived as to fancy that there was nothing unusual in a + gentleman's going to ask another gentleman whom he believed to have + affronted him, for an explanation, with a pair of pistols in his pocket. + In the circumstances a duel would have been nothing unusual; but surely + Mr. Fraser Rae could not have fancied that Sheridan set out with the + pistols in his pocket in order to fight a duel with Mathews in the man's + lodgings, without preliminaries and without seconds. If Mathews caught + sight of the butt of a pistol sticking out of Sheridan's pocket he had + every reason to be as frightened as Miss Sheridan declared he was, for he + must have believed that his visitor had come to murder him. + </p> + <p> + At any rate, frightened or not frightened, pistols or no pistols, Mathews, + on being interrogated by Sheridan as to the advertisement in the <i>Bath + Chronicle</i>, assured him that he had been grossly misinformed as to the + character of the advertisement. It was, he affirmed, nothing more than an + inquiry after Sheridan, which the family of the latter had sanctioned. He + then, according to Miss Sheridan, expressed the greatest friendship for + his visitor, and said that he would be made extremely unhappy if any + difference should arise between them. + </p> + <p> + So young Mr. Sheridan, balked of his murderous intentions, returned with + unsullied pistols to his hotel, and set out for Bath with Miss Linley and + her father. + </p> + <p> + But if he fancied that Mathews had passed out of his life he was quickly + undeceived. Before he had time to take his seat at the family table he had + got a copy of the newspaper containing the advertisement, of the tenor of + which Mathews had told him in London he had been misinformed; and now his + sisters made him fully aware of the action taken by the same man on + learning of the flight of Sheridan and Elizabeth Linley. The result was + that he now perceived what every one should have known long before—namely, + that Mathews was a scoundrel, who should never have been allowed to obtain + the footing to which he had been admitted in the Sheridan and Linley + families. + </p> + <p> + It appears that the moment Mathews heard that Miss Linley had been carried + beyond his reach, he rushed to the Sheridans' house, and there found the + girls and their elder brother, who had been wisely communicated with by + the landlord, and had left his retirement in the farmhouse in the country + to take charge of the sisters in the absence of their brother Richard. + Mathews behaved like a madman—no unusual <i>rôle</i> for him—heaping + reproaches upon the absent member of the family, and demanding to be told + of his whereabouts. He seems to have been encouraged by Charles Sheridan, + who had unwisely said something in disparagement of his brother. Mathews + had the effrontery to avow his passion for Elizabeth Linley, and in the + bitterest terms to accuse Richard Sheridan of having acted basely in + taking her beyond his reach. + </p> + <p> + Then he hastened to Richard Sheridan's friend and confidant, a young man + named Brereton, and to him he sent messages of friendship and, possibly, + condolence to Mr. Linley, though his object in paying this visit was + undoubtedly not to endeavour to exculpate himself as regards Mr. Linley, + but to find out where the fugitives were to be found. He may have had + visions of pursuing them, of fighting a duel with Richard Sheridan, and if + he succeeded in killing him, of getting the girl at last into his power. + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Brereton not only did not reveal the whereabouts of his friend—he + knew that Sheridan meant to go to Lille, for he wrote to him there—but + he also refused to give his interrogator any sympathy for having failed to + accomplish the destruction of the girl. Brereton, indeed, seems to have + convinced him that the best thing he could do was to leave Bath as quickly + as possible. Mathews had probably by this time discovered, as Brereton + certainly had, that the feeling against him in Bath was profound. There + can be little doubt that in the course of the day Charles Sheridan became + aware of this fact also; he had only a few months before confessed himself + to be deeply in love with Elizabeth Linley, and when he heard that his + brother had run away with her he could not but have been somewhat incensed + against him, for Richard had not taken him into his confidence. By the + time his brother returned, however, any ill-feeling that Charles may have + felt had disappeared, and as Charles always showed himself to be a cool + and calculating gentleman—one who always kept an eye on the jumping + cat—it is not going too far to assume that his change of tone in + respect of his rather impetuous brother was due to his perception of the + trend of public opinion on the subject of the elopement. + </p> + <p> + Brereton had persuaded Mathews that there was nothing left for him but to + quit Bath; but before taking this step the latter had inserted in the <i>Bath + Chronicle</i> the advertisement of which Richard had heard, but which he + had not read when in London, thus leaving himself in no position to + contradict Mathews' assertion as to its amicable wording. + </p> + <p> + But now the newspaper was put into his hands by Charles, and he had an + opportunity of pronouncing an opinion on this point. It was dated + Wednesday, April the 8th, 1772, and it ran as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Richard S———— having attempted in a letter + left behind him for that purpose, to account for his scandalous method of + running away from this place by insinuations derogating from my character + and that of a young lady, innocent as far as relates to me, or my + knowledge, since which he has neither taken any notice of letters or even + informed his own family of the place where he has hid himself; I cannot + longer think he deserves the treatment of a gentleman, and in this public + method, to post him as a L———, and a treacherous S————. + </p> + <p> + “And as I am convinced there have been many malevolent incendiaries + concerned in the propagation of this infamous lie, if any of them, + unprotected by age, <i>infirmities</i>, or profession, they are to + acknowledge the part they have acted, and affirm <i>to</i> what they have + said <i>of</i> me, they may depend on receiving the proper reward of their + villainy, in the most public manner. The world will be candid enough to + judge properly (I make no doubt) of any private abuse on this subject for + the future, as nobody can defend himself from an accusation he is ignorant + of Thomas Mathews.” Such a piece of maundering imbecility as this had + probably never before appeared in a newspaper. It must have been read in + Bath with roars of laughter. But we do not hear that any of the ready + writers of the time and the town yielded to the temptation of commenting + upon the “malevolent incendiarism” of the composition. A man of the world, + had it been written about himself, would possibly have thought that its + illiteracy spoke for itself, and so would have refrained from making any + move in regard to it or its author. But one can imagine what effect + reading it would have upon a boy of Sheridan's spirit. For a youth of + twenty to find himself posted as a Liar and a Scoundrel, to say nothing of + a “malevolent incendiary,” and remain indifferent would be impossible. + Sheridan did not take long to make up his mind what he should do in the + circumstances. + </p> + <p> + The dramatic touch which his sister introduces in writing of Richard's + perusal of the paragraph is intensely true to nature. He simply put a word + or two to Charles relative to what Mathews had told him in London about + his, Sheridan's, family sanctioning the insertion of the advertisement. + Charles had no difficulty in vindicating his integrity on this point. + Richard knew perfectly well that it is one thing to say that a man has + acted too hastily, but quite another to suggest that that man is “a L——— + and a S————.” + </p> + <p> + So apparently the matter ended, and Richard continued chatting with his + sisters, giving no sign of what was in his mind. The girls went to their + beds, suspecting nothing. The next morning their two brothers were + missing! + </p> + <p> + Of course the girls were dreadfully alarmed. Some people in the house told + them that they had heard high words being exchanged between the brothers + after the girls had retired, and shortly afterwards the two former had + gone out together. The sister, in her narrative, mentions that she + received a hint or two of a duel between Richard and Charles, but she at + once put these suggestions aside. The poor girls must have been nearly + distracted. Certainly the house of Sheridan was passing through a period + of great excitement. The estimable head of the family was himself + expecting a crisis in his affairs as manager of the theatre in Dublin—Mr. + Thomas Sheridan was never far removed from a crisis—and in his + absence his young people were doing pretty much as they pleased. He had no + power of controlling them; all that he had to do with them was to pay + their bills. Neither of the sons was earning anything, and while one of + them was living as a man of fashion, the other had thought it well to cut + himself off from his sisters, taking lodgings at a farm some way out of + Bath It is the girls of the house for whom one feels most. Alicia, the + elder, was seventeen, Elizabeth was but twelve. They must have been + distracted. So would their father have been if he had had a chance of + learning all that was going on at Bath. + </p> + <p> + But, of course, when young gentlemen of spirit are falling in love with + beauteous maidens, and retiring to cure themselves by mingling with + pastoral scenes reminiscent of the gentle melancholy of Mr. Alexander + Pope's shepherds and shepherdesses (done in Dresden), every one of whom + murmurs mournfully and melodiously of a rejected suit—when young + gentlemen are running away with afflicted damsels and returning to fight + their enemies, they cannot be expected to think of the incidental expenses + of the business, which are to be defrayed by their father, any more than + of the distraction which takes possession of their sisters. + </p> + <p> + The two young gentlemen were missing, and had left for their sisters no + explanation of their absence—no hint as to the direction of their + flight. And there were other people in the house talking about the high + words that had been exchanged between the brothers at midnight. It is not + surprising that the poor girls should be distressed and distracted. + </p> + <p> + Considering that Miss Linley was the first cause of the excitement in the + midst of which the family had been living for some weeks, it was only + natural that the elder of the girls should send for her with a view to + have some light thrown on this new development of the heroic incident in + which Miss Linley had assisted. But Miss Linley, on being applied to, + affirmed that she knew nothing of the disappearance of the brothers, that + she had heard of nothing that should cause them to leave Bath at a + moment's notice. She was, unfortunately, a young woman of imagination. In + a crisis such a one is either very helpful, or very helpless. Poor Miss + Linley was the latter. She had just come through a great crisis in her own + life, and she had not emerged from it without suffering. It was too much + to ask her to face another in the family of her friends. She went off in a + fainting fit on hearing the news of the disappearance of the young men, + and her father left her in the hands of a medical man, and turned his + attention to the condition of Miss Sheridan, who was unable to walk back + to her home, and had to be put into a chair, Mr. Linley walking beside her + with her young sister. It is more than possible that Mr. Linley was + beginning to feel that he had had quite enough of the Sheridan family to + last him for the remainder of his life. + </p> + <p> + For two days nothing whatever was heard of the missing brothers. We have + no means of knowing if Miss Sheridan communicated to their father in + Dublin the mysterious story she had to tell; the chances are that she was + advised by Mr. Linley to refrain from doing so until she might have + something definite to tell him. Mr. Linley never had any particular regard + for the elder Sheridan, and he had no wish to have him summoned from his + theatre at Dublin to make his remarks about the dangerous attractiveness + of Elizabeth Linley, and the culpable carelessness of her father in + allowing her to be carried off to France by a young man without a penny + except what he got from his own father. + </p> + <p> + At any rate, Tom Sheridan did not leave his theatre or his pupils in + elocution, and there was no need for him to do so, for on Tuesday evening—they + had been missing on the Sunday morning—Dick and his brother + returned. They were both greatly fatigued, and said that they had not been + in bed since they had left Bath. This meant that Dick had actually not + slept in Bath since he had originally left the city in the company of Miss + Linley. Between the Friday and the Tuesday he had posted from London to + Bath with the Linleys, and had forthwith returned to London with his + brother and then back once more to Bath without a pause. He, at least, had + very good reason for feeling fatigued. + </p> + <p> + His first act was to hand his sister an apology which had been made to him + by Mathews. This document is worthy of being reprinted. It ran thus: + </p> + <p> + “Being convinced that the expressions I made use of to Mr. Sheridan's + disadvantage, were the effects of passion and misrepresentation, I intreat + what I have said to that gentleman's disadvantage, and particularly beg + his pardon for my advertisement in the <i>Bath Chronicle</i>. Th. + Mathews.” + </p> + <p> + He handed this document to his sister, and then it may be supposed that he + went to bed. He had certainly good need of a sleep. + </p> + <p> + Such is the drift of the story up to this point, as told by Mrs. Lefanu + (Elizabeth Sheridan), and it differs in some particulars from that told by + her brother Charles in a letter to their uncle, and, in a lesser degree, + from the account given of the whole transaction by Richard Sheridan + himself, who was surely in the best position to know exactly what happened + upon the occasion of his first visit to Mathews in London, as well as upon + the occasion of his second, made so hurriedly in the company of his + brother. + </p> + <p> + His second visit was, as might have been expected, the more exciting. It + included the fighting of a duel with Mathews. The humours of duelling have + been frequently dealt with in prose and comedy, and, assuredly the most + amusing of all is to be found in Richard Brinsley Sheridan's <i>The Rivals</i>. + One must confess, however, that the serious account given by the same + writer of his hostile meeting with Mathews, on his return from Bath, + suggests a much more ludicrous series of situations than are to be found + in his play. + </p> + <p> + In Sheridan's account he mentions that while still in France he received + “several abusive threats” from Mathews, and these had such an effect upon + him that he wrote to Mathews, swearing that he would not close his eyes in + sleep in England till he had treated Mathews as he deserved. In order to + carry out this vow he had actually sat up all night at Canterbury, where + his party halted on their way from Dover to London. He called upon Mathews + on arriving in London, at the latter's lodging in Crutched Friars; this + was at midnight, and the key of the door being mislaid, he had to wait two + hours before he was admitted. He found Mathews in bed, but he induced him + to rise and dress, though, in spite of his compliance as regards his + raiment, he complained bitterly of the cold. There does not seem to have + been any great suffering on Sheridan's part through a lack of heat. Then, + as his sister's narrative put it, the man declared that his visitor had + been grossly misinformed in regard to the libel in the Chronicle; and so + he left for Bath, as has already been stated. + </p> + <p> + And now comes the account given by Sheridan of the return visit, and, told + in his own laconic style, it suggests such comic situations as border on + farce. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. S.,” he wrote, “staid but three hours in Bath. He returned to London. + He sent to Mr. M. from Hyde Parck. He came with Captain Knight his second. + He objected frequently to the ground. They adjourned to the Hercules + Pillars. They returned to Hyde Parck. Mr. M. objected to the observation + of an officer. They returned to Hercules Pillars. They adjourned to the + Bedford Coffee house by agreement. Mr. M. was gone to the Castel Tavern. + Mr. S. followed with Mr. E. Mr. M. made many declarations in favour of Mr. + S. They engaged. Mr. M. was disarmed, Captain Knight ran in. Mr. M. begged + his life and afterwards denied the advantage. Mr. S. was provoked by the + (really well-meant) interposition of Captain Knight and the illusion of + Mr. M. He insisted since Mr. M. denied the advantage, that he should give + up his sword. Mr. M. denied, but sooner than return to his ground he gave + it up. It was broke, and Mr. M. offered another. He was then called on to + retract his abuse and beg Mr. S.'s pardon. With much altercation and much + ill grace he complied.” + </p> + <p> + The remainder of this remarkably succinct composition is devoted to the + subsequent misrepresentations of the transaction by Mathews, and by the + writer's appeal to the seconds to say if his version of the encounter was + not correct. + </p> + <p> + But whatever Mathews' account may have been it could scarcely be more + ludicrous than Sheridan's. The marching and countermarching of the four + gentlemen—it appears that brother Charles, although accompanying + Richard to London, thought it more prudent to remain under cover during + the actual engagement; he waited at Brereton's lodgings—the excuses + made by Mathews in order to get away without fighting, and then at the + last moment, the carrying out (by agreement) of a manouvre which landed + Mathews in one tavern and the rest of the party in another—the + set-to of the principals immediately after the “declarations” of one of + them in favour of the other, and the final catastrophe could hardly be + surpassed by the actions of a pair of burlesque duellists in what is + technically known as a “knockabout” entertainment. + </p> + <p> + And after all this scrupulousness of detail one is left in doubt as to the + exact <i>locale</i> of the encounter. Did it take place in the coffee-room + of the Castell Inn, or did the eager combatants retrace their steps to the + “parck”? The document written by Sheridan, though dealing very fully with + the forced marches of the army in the field, throws no light upon this + question of the scene of the battle. In respect of the signing of the + treaty of peace, and the payment of the indemnity, it is, however, + moderately lucid. Sheridan must have told his sister that Mathews signed + the apology immediately after the encounter; she states this in her + narrative. But Mathews did not merely sign the apology, he wrote every + word of it, as one may see by referring to the facsimile, thoughtfully + given in Mr. Fraser Rae's <i>Life of Sheridan</i>, and it would be + impossible to say that the caligraphy of the apology shows the least sign + of that perturbation from which one must believe the writer was suffering + at the moment. Its characteristic is neatness. It is in the fine + old-fashioned Italian hand. Even an expert, who sees possibilities—when + paid for it—in handwriting which would never occur to less + imaginative observers, would scarcely venture to say that this neat little + document was written by a man with another's sword at his throat. + </p> + <p> + This is another element in the mystery of the duel, and it cannot be said + that when we read the letter which the elder of the brothers wrote to his + uncle, giving his account of the whole business, we feel ourselves in a + clearer atmosphere. It really seems a pity that Mr. Browning did not make + another <i>Ring and the Book</i> series of studies out of this amazing + duel. Charles Sheridan told his uncle that an apology was given to Richard + by Mathews as a result of Richard's first visit to him in London, but when + Richard read the advertisement in the Chronicle, which was the original + casus belli, he considered this apology so inadequate that he set off for + London to demand another. Charles also mentions, what neither his brother + nor his sister had stated, that he himself, on reaching London on the + Sunday evening, went to Mathews to endeavour to get a suitable apology—according + to Richard's narrative Charles had good grounds for sending a challenge to + Mathews on his own account—but “after two hours' altercation” he + found that he had made no impression upon the man, so that his brother had + no alternative but to call him out. + </p> + <p> + But however the accounts of the lesser details of this affair of honour + may differ, there can be no question that public opinion in Bath was all + in favour of young Mr. Sheridan. It was acknowledged on every hand that he + had acted from the first—that is, from the moment he assumed the + duties of the protector of Miss Linley—with admirable courage, and + with a full sense of what honour demanded of him. In short he came back + from London, after so many sleepless nights, covered with glory. He was a + tall, handsome fellow of twenty, with brilliant eyes; he had run away with + the most beautiful girl in the world to save her from the clutches of a + scoundrel; he had had four nights without sleep, and then he had fought a + duel with the scoundrel and had obtained from him an apology for insertion + in the newspapers. Few young gentlemen starting life wholly without means + attain to so proud a position of achievement before they reach their + majority. + </p> + <p> + But of course all these feats of errantry and arms run up a bill. Young + Mr. Sheridan's posting account must have been by itself pretty formidable, + and, knowing that his father had never looked on him with the favour which + he gave to his brother, Richard may now and again have felt a trifle + uneasy at the prospect of meeting Mr. Sheridan. If his sister's memory is + to be trusted, however, this meeting took place within a week or two of + his duel, and no bones were broken. Mr. Sheridan had a few chiding words + to say respecting the debts which his son had incurred, but these he paid, + after obtaining from the boy the usual promise made under similar + conditions before a like tribunal. The prodigal invariably acts up to his + character for prodigality in the matter of promises of reform. + </p> + <p> + Richard Sheridan, being something of a wit, though we do not get many + examples of his faculty in the accounts extant of his early life, and + assuredly not a single example in any of his letters that came into the + hands of his biographers, may have sworn to his father never to run away + with a girl who might be anxious to enter upon a conventual life. At any + rate, his father did not show any great displeasure when he was made aware + of the boy's conduct, though it is worth noting that Mr. Sheridan took + exception to the general conviction that his son's act had been prompted + by the most chivalrous aspirations. + </p> + <p> + Mathews, however, had not yet been shaken off. He was back in Bath almost + as soon as the Sheridans, and “malevolent incendiarism” was in the air. No + slander was too base for him to use against Richard Sheridan, no + insinuation too vile. But the popularity of the object of his calumny was + now too firmly established in Bath to be shaken by the vaporous + malevolence of his enemy. Mathews, finding himself thoroughly discredited + in every quarter, did the only sensible thing recorded in his squalid + history—he ran away to his home in Wales. + </p> + <p> + He was here unfortunate enough to meet with a man named Barnard, or + Barnett, who acted upon him pretty much as Sir Lucius O'Trigger did upon + Squire Acres, explaining to him that it was quite impossible that the + affair between him and Sheridan should remain as it was. It was absolutely + necessary, he said, that another duel should take place. All the + “incendiarism” in Mathews' nature was aroused by the fiery words of this + man, and the precious pair hurried to Bath, where a challenge was sent to + Sheridan through the hands of his eldest sister, under the guise of an + invitation to some festivity. + </p> + <p> + Sheridan was foolish enough to accept the challenge apparently without + consulting with any one competent to advise him. According to his father + the challenge had been preceded by several letters of the most scurrilous + abuse. His wiser brother, who had just received an appointment as + Secretary to the British Legation in Sweden, had gone to London with their + father to make preparations for his departure for Stockholm, and + immediately on hearing of the duel he wrote to Richard a typical elder + brother's letter. It is dated July 3rd, 1772, so that, as the duel had + only taken place the previous day, it cannot be said that he lost much + time in expressing his deep sense of his brother's foolishness in meeting + so great a scoundrel for the second time. “All your friends have condemned + you,” he wrote. “You risked everything, where you had nothing to gain, to + give your antagonist the thing he wished, a chance for recovering his + reputation; he wanted to get rid of the contemptible opinion he was held + in, and you were good-natured enough to let him do it at your expense. It + is not a time to scold, but all your friends were of opinion you could, + with the greatest propriety, have refused to meet him.” + </p> + <p> + Without going into the question as to whether this sort of letter was the + ideal one for one brother to write to another who was lying on his bed + with several wounds in his throat, it is impossible to question the + soundness of the opinion expressed by Charles Sheridan in respect of + Richard's acceptance of Mathews' challenge. The challenge was, however, + accepted, and the duel took place on King's Down, at three o'clock in the + morning. Mathews' friend was Barnett, and Sheridan's a young gentleman + named Paumier, who, it was said, was quite unacquainted with the rules of + the game, and had never even seen a duel being fought. The accounts which + survive of this second meeting of Sheridan and Mathews make it apparent + that, if the first was a scene of comedy, this one was a tragic burlesque. + It is said that Sheridan, on the signal being given, at once rushed in on + his antagonist, endeavouring to disarm him as he had done upon the former + occasion of their meeting, but, tripping over something, he literally, and + not figuratively, fell upon the other, knocking him down with such + violence that he was not only disarmed, but his sword was broken as well. + Sheridan's own sword was also broken, so that one might fancy that the + meeting would have terminated here. It did nothing of the sort. The + encounter was only beginning, and anything more savagely burlesque than + the sequel could not be imagined. + </p> + <p> + The combatants must have rolled over, after the manner of the negro + duellists on the variety stage, and when they had settled themselves each + made a grab for the most serviceable fragment of his sword. Mathews being + the heavier man contrived to keep uppermost in the scuffle, and, what gave + him a decided advantage over his opponent, he managed to get his fingers + on the hilt of his broken weapon. An appeal at this stage was made by the + lad who was acting as Sheridan's second to put a stop to the fight; but + the second ruffian, or the ruffian's second—either description + applies to Barnett—declared that as both the antagonists were on the + ground one could not be said to have any advantage over the other. This + delicate question being settled, Mathews held the jagged, saw-like end—point + it had none—of the broken sword at the other's throat and told him + to beg for his life. Sheridan replied that he should refuse to beg his + life from such a scoundrel, and forthwith the scoundrel began jabbing at + his throat and face with the fragment of his weapon, a method of attack + which was not robbed of its butchery by the appeal that it makes to a + reader's sense of its comical aspect. + </p> + <p> + It is doubtful, however, if the comic side of the transaction appealed + very forcibly to the unfortunate boy who was being lacerated to death. He + just managed to put aside a thrust or two before the end of the blade + penetrated the flesh of his throat and pinned him to the ground. With a + chuckle and, according to Tom Sheridan's account, an oath, Mathews got + upon his feet, and, entering the coach which was waiting for him, drove + away from the scene of his butchery. Sheridan was thereupon raised from + the ground, and driven in his chaise with his second to the White Hart + Inn. Two surgeons were immediately in attendance, and it was found that + his wounds, though numerous, were not such as placed his life in jeopardy. + They were, however, sufficiently serious to prevent his removal to his + home that day. + </p> + <p> + It does not appear that young Paumier told the sisters of the occurrence; + but an account of the duel having appeared in the <i>Bath Chronicle</i> + the same afternoon, every one in the town must have been talking of it, + though Mrs. Lefanu says neither she nor her sister heard a word of the + matter until the next day. Then they hastened to the White Hart, and + prevailed upon the surgeons to allow them to take their brother home. In a + surprisingly short time he had quite recovered. Indeed, although there was + a report that Sheridan's life was despaired of, there was no excuse for + any one taking so gloomy a view of his hurts, for the exact truth was + known to Charles Sheridan and his father in London early on the day + following that of the fight. + </p> + <p> + The pathetic part of the story of this ludicrous encounter is to be found + in the story of the reception of the news by Elizabeth Linley. Her father + had read in some of the papers that Sheridan was at the point of death, + but, like the worldly-wise man that Mr. Linley was, he kept the news from + his daughter. They were at Oxford together, and she was announced to sing + at a concert, and he knew that had she learned all that the newspapers + published, she might possibly not be able to do herself—and her + father—justice. But, as one of the audience told his sister + afterwards, the fact that every one who had come to hear Miss Linley sing + was aware of the serious condition (as the papers alleged) of young + Sheridan, and of her attachment to him, a feeling of sympathy for the + lovely young creature added immeasurably to the interest of her + performance. + </p> + <p> + At the conclusion of the concert her father set out with her for Bath; and + it was not until they had almost reached their home that their chaise was + met by a clergyman named Pauton, and he summoned all his tact to enable + him to prepare Elizabeth Linley for the news which he was entrusted to + communicate to her. It is said that under the stress of her emotion the + girl declared that Richard Sheridan was her husband, and that her place + was by his side. + </p> + <p> + Whatever truth there may be in this story it is certain that if she + believed at that moment that Sheridan was her husband, she gave no sign of + continuing in that belief, for though her numerous letters to him show + that she was devoted to him, there is no suggestion in any of them that + she believed herself to be his wife. On the contrary, there are many + passages which prove that no idea of the sort was entertained by her. + </p> + <p> + The exertions of the heads of the two families were for long directed + against the union of the lovers. Mr. Linley felt more forcibly than ever + that he had had quite enough of the Sheridans, and Tom Sheridan doubtless + wished never to hear again the name of Linley. The one made his daughter + promise on her knees to give up Richard Sheridan, and Mr. Sheridan + compelled his son to forswear any association with Elizabeth Linley. Jove + must have been convulsed with laughter. Richard Brinsley Sheridan and + Elizabeth Ann Linley were married on the 13th of April, 1773. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A MELODRAMA AT COVENT GARDEN + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>N an evening in + April, 1779, the play, “<i>Love in a Village</i>” was being performed at + Covent Garden Theatre before a large audience. In the front row of the + boxes sat two ladies, one of them young and handsome, the other not so + young and not so beautiful—a dark-faced, dark-eyed woman whom no one + could mistake for any nationality except Italian. Three gentlemen who sat + behind them were plainly of their party—elegant gentlemen of + fashion, one of them an Irish peer. Every person of quality in the theatre + and a good many others without such a claim to distinction, were aware of + the fact that the most attractive member of the group was Miss Reay, a + lady whose name had been for several years closely associated—very + closely indeed—with that of Lord Sandwich, the First Lord of the + Admiralty, and one of the most unpopular men in England. She had driven to + the theatre in his lordship's carriage, and two of the gentlemen with whom + she conversed freely in the box were high officials of the department over + which his lordship presided. + </p> + <p> + Almost from the moment of her arrival, Miss Reay and her friends were + watched eagerly by a hollow-eyed, morose gentleman in black. He looked as + if he had not slept for many nights; and no one observing him could have + failed to perceive that he had come to the theatre not for the sake of the + play which was being performed, but to watch the lady. He kept his fierce + eyes fixed upon her, and he frowned every time that she turned to make a + remark to one of her friends; his eyes blazed every time that one of her + friends smiled over her shoulder, and his hands clenched if she smiled in + return. Several times it seemed as if he found it impossible to remain in + his place in the upper side box, where his seat was, for he started up and + hurried out to the great lobby, walking to and fro in great agitation. + More than once he strode away from the lobby into the Bedford Coffee House + just outside the theatre, and there partook of brandy and water, returning + after brief intervals to stare at Miss Reay and her companions in the + front row of the boxes. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0015" id="linkimage-0015"> </a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0327.jpg" alt="0327 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0327.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + At the conclusion of the play, he went hastily into the vestibule, + standing to one side, not far from the exit from the boxes; but if he + intended to be close to Miss Reay while she walked to the main exit, his + object was defeated by reason of the crush of people congregating in the + vestibule, the people of quality waiting for their carriages to be + announced, the others waiting for the satisfaction of being in such close + proximity to people of quality. + </p> + <p> + Among the crowd there was a lady who had recently become the wife of a + curious gentleman named Lewis, who some years later wrote a grisly book + entitled <i>The Monk</i>, bringing him such great fame as cancelled for + posterity the names of Matthew Gregory, given to him by his parents, and + caused him to be identified by the name of his book only. This lady made a + remark to her neighbour in respect of a lovely rose which Miss Reay was + wearing when she left the box exit and stood in the vestibule—a + beautiful rose early in the month of April might have excited remark in + those days; at any rate, Mrs. Lewis has left the record that at the very + moment of her speaking, the rose fell to the floor, and Miss Reay appeared + to be profoundly affected by this trifling incident, and said in a + faltering voice, “I trust that I am not to consider this as an evil omen!” + So Mrs. Lewis stated. + </p> + <p> + A few moments later Lord Sandwich's carriage was announced, and Miss Reay + and her companion made a move in the direction of the door. The gentlemen + of the party seem to have left earlier, for on the ladies being impeded by + the crush in the vestibule, a stranger, named Mr. Macnamara, of Lincoln's + Inn, proffered his services to help them to get to the carriage. Miss Reay + thanked him, took his arm, and the crowd opened for them in some measure. + It quickly opened wider under a more acute persuasion a few seconds later, + when the morose gentleman in black pushed his way among the people until + he was within a few feet of the lady and her escort. Only for a second did + he pause—certainly he spoke no word to Miss Reay or any one else—before + he pulled a pistol from his pocket and fired almost point-blank at her + before any one could knock up his hand. Immediately afterwards he turned a + second pistol against his own forehead and pulled the trigger, and fell to + the ground. + </p> + <p> + The scene that followed can easily be imagined. Every woman present + shrieked, except Miss Reay, who was supported by Mr. Macnamara. The + ghastly effects of the bullet were apparent not only upon the forehead of + the lady where it lodged, but upon the bespattered garments of every one + about the door, and upon the columns of the hall. Above the shrieks of the + terror-stricken people were heard the yells of the murderer, who lay on + the ground, hammering at his head with the butt end of his weapon, and + crying, “Kill me! Kill me!” + </p> + <p> + A Mr. Mahon, of Russell Street, who was said to be an apothecary, was the + first to lay a hand upon the wretched man. He wrested the pistol from his + grasp and prevented him from doing further mischief to himself. He was + quickly handed over to the police, and, with his unfortunate victim, was + removed to the Shakespeare Tavern, a surgeon named Bond being in prompt + attendance. It did not take long to find that Miss Reay had never breathed + after the shot had been fired at her; the bullet had smashed the skull and + passed through the brain. The man remained for some time unconscious, but + even before he recovered he was identified as James Hackman, a gentleman + who had been an officer in the army, and on retiring had taken Orders, + being admitted a priest of the Church of England scarcely a month before + his crime. There were rumours respecting his infatuation for Miss Reay, + and in a surprisingly short space of time, owing most likely to the + exertions of Signora Galli, the Italian whom Lord Sandwich had hired to be + her companion, the greater part of the romantic story of the wretched + man's life, as far as it related to Miss Reay, was revealed. + </p> + <p> + It formed a nine days' wonder during the spring of the same year (1779). + The grief displayed by Lord Sandwich on being made acquainted with the + circumstances of the murder was freely commented on, and the sympathy + which was felt for him may have diminished in some measure from his + unpopularity. The story told by Croker of the reception of the news by + Lord Sandwich is certainly not deficient in detail. “He stood as it were + petrified,” we are told, “till suddenly, seizing a candle, he ran upstairs + and threw himself on the bed, and in agony exclaimed, 'Leave me for a + while to myself, I could have borne anything but this!' The attendants + remained for a considerable time at the top of the staircase, till his + lordship rang the bell and ordered that they should all go to bed.” + </p> + <p> + Before his lordship left the scene of his grief in the morning Sir John + Fielding, the Bow Street magistrate, had arrived at the Shakespeare Tavern + from his house at Brompton, and, after a brief inquiry, ordered Hackman to + be taken to Tothill Fields Prison. In due course he was committed to + Newgate, and on April 16th his trial took place before Blackstone, the + Recorder. The facts of the tragedy were deposed to by several witnesses, + and the cause of the lady's death was certified by Mr. Bond, the surgeon. + The prisoner was then called on for his defence. He made a brief speech, + explaining that he would have pleaded guilty at once had he not felt that + doing so “would give an indication of contemning death, not suitable to my + present condition, and would in some measure make me accessory to a second + peril of my life. And I likewise thought,” he added, “that the justice of + my country ought to be satisfied by suffering my offence to be proved, and + the fact to be established by evidence.” + </p> + <p> + This curious affectation of a finer perception of the balance of justice + than is possessed by most men was quite characteristic of this man, as was + also his subsequent expression of his willingness to submit to the + sentence of the court. His counsel endeavoured to show that he had been + insane from the moment of his purchasing his pistols until he had + committed the deed for which he was being tried—he did not say + anything about “a wave of insanity,” however, though that picturesque + phrase would have aptly described the nature of his plea. He argued that a + letter which was found in the prisoner's pocket, and in which suicide only + was threatened, should be accepted as proof that he had no intention of + killing Miss Reay when he went to the theatre. + </p> + <p> + The Recorder, of course, made short work of such a plea. He explained to + the jury that “for a plea of insanity to be successful it must be shown + not merely that it was a matter of fits and starts, but that it was a + definite thing—a total loss of reason and incapability of reason.” + Referring to the letter, he said that it seemed to him to argue a coolness + and premeditation incompatible with such insanity as he described. + </p> + <p> + The result was, as might have been anticipated, the jury, without leaving + the box, found Hackman guilty, and he was sentenced to be hanged. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Boswell, who was nearly as fond of hearing death-sentences pronounced + as he was of seeing them carried out, was present in the court during the + trial, and to him Mr. Booth, the brother-in-law of the prisoner, applied—he + himself had been too greatly agitated to be able to remain in the court—for + information as to how Hackman had deported himself, and Boswell was able + to assure him that he had behaved “as well, sir, as you or any of his + friends could wish; with decency, propriety, and in such a manner as to + interest every one present. He might have pleaded that he shot Miss Reay + by accident, but he fairly told the truth that in a moment of frenzy he + did intend it.” + </p> + <p> + While he was in the condemned cell at Newgate he received a message from + Lord Sandwich to the effect that if he wished for his life, he (Lord + Sandwich) had influence with the King, and might succeed in obtaining a + commutation of his sentence. Hackman replied that he had no wish to live, + but he implored his lordship to give him such assurance that those whom + Miss Reay had left behind her would be carefully looked after, as would, + on meeting her in another world, enable him to make this pleasing + communication to her. + </p> + <p> + He spent the few days that remained to him in writing fervid letters to + his friends and in penning moralisings, in a style which was just the + smallest degree more pronounced than that which was fashionable at his + period—the style of the sentimental hero of Richardson and his + inferior followers. + </p> + <p> + His execution at Tyburn attracted the most enormous crowds ever seen upon + such an occasion. The carriage in which the wretched man was conveyed to + the gibbet could only proceed at a walking pace; but still, the vehicle + which followed it, containing the Earl of Carlisle and James Boswell, + arrived in good time for the final scene of this singular tragedy, which + for weeks, as the Countess of Ossory wrote to George Selwyn, was the sole + topic of conversation. + </p> + <p> + And, as a matter of course, Horace Walpole had something to communicate to + one of his carefully-selected correspondents. Oddly enough it was to a + parson he wrote to express the opinion that he was still uncertain + “whether our clergy are growing Mahometans or not”; adding sagely, “they + certainly are not what they profess themselves; but as you and I should + not agree, perhaps, in assigning the same defects to them, I will not + enter on a subject which I have promised you to drop, all I allude to now + is the shocking murder of Miss Reay by a divine. In my own opinion we are + growing more fit for Bedlam than for Mahomet's paradise. The poor + criminal, I am persuaded, is mad, and the misfortune is the law does not + know how to define the shades of madness; and thus there are twenty + out-pensioners of Bedlam for one that is confined.” + </p> + <p> + Most persons will come to the conclusion that the judge who tried Hackman + made a most successful attempt to expound to the jury exactly where the + law drew a line in differentiating between the man who should be sent to + Bedlam and the man who should be sent to Tyburn, and will agree with the + justice of the law that condemned to the gallows this divine of three + weeks' standing for committing an atrocious crime, even though the chances + are that Hackman spoke the truth when he affirmed that he had brought his + pistols down to the theatre with no more felonious intent than to blow out + his own brains in the presence of the lady and to fall dead at her feet. + At the same time one is not precluded from agreeing with Walpole's opinion + that the people of his period were growing more fit for Bedlam than for + Eblis. + </p> + <p> + The truth is that an extraordinary wave of what was called “sensibility” + was passing over England at that time. It was a wave of sentimentality—that + maudlin sentimentality which was the exquisite characteristic of the hero + and heroine of almost every novel that attained to any degree of success. + To people who have formed their ideas of the latter half of the eighteenth + century from studying Boswell's <i>Life of Johnson</i>, every page of + which shows a healthy common sense; or from the plates of Hogarth—robust + even to a point of vulgarity—it would seem incredible that there + should exist in England at practically the same time a cult of the maudlin + and the lachrymose. Such a cult had, however, obtained so great a hold on + a large section of society that all the satire of Smollett, Sterne, and + Goldsmith, was unable to ridicule it out of existence. + </p> + <p> + And the worst of the matter was that the types of these weeping + sentimentalists were not unreal. They began by being unreal, but in the + course of a short time they became real, the fact being that people in all + directions began to frame their conduct and their conversation upon these + flaccid creatures of the unhealthy fancy of third-rate novelists and + fourth-rate poetasters. More than once, it may be remarked, even in our + own time “movements” have had their origin in the fancy of a painter—in + one case of a subtle caricaturist. An artist possessed of a distorted + sense of what is beautiful in woman has been able to set a certain fashion + in the unreal, until people were well-nigh persuaded that it was the + painter who had taken the figures in his pictures from the persons who had + simply sought a cheap notoriety by adopting the pose and the dress of the + scraggy posturantes for whose anatomy he was responsible. + </p> + <p> + So it was that, when certain novel-writers in the eighteenth century, + having no experience of the life which they attempted to depict, brought + forth creatures out of their own unhealthy imaginations, and placed them + before their readers as types of heroes and heroines, the public never + failed to include quite a number of readers who were ready to live up to + all those essentials that constituted the personages of the fiction. + </p> + <p> + And not alone over England had the sighs of a perpetually sighing hero and + heroine sent a lachrymose flood; France and Germany, if not actually + inundated, were at least rendered humid by its influence. <i>The Sorrows + of Werther</i> was only one of the many books which helped on the cult of + the sentimental, and it was as widely read in England as in Germany. + Gessner's <i>Death of Abel</i> had an enormous vogue in its English + translation. The boarding-school version of the tale of Abelard and + Heloise was also much wept over both in France and Germany; and the true + story of James Hackman and Martha Reay, as recorded by the correspondence + of the pair, published shortly after the last scene in the tragedy had + been enacted, and reissued with connecting notes some twelve years ago, + might pass only as a somewhat crude attempt to surpass these masterpieces + of fancy-woven woes. James and Martha might have been as happy as + thousands of other Jameses and Marthas have been, but they chose to + believe that the Fates were bothering themselves with this particular case + of James and Martha—they chose to feel that they were doomed to a + life of sorrowful love—at any rate, this was Martha's notion—and + they kept on exchanging emotional sentiments until James's poor head gave + way, and he sought to end up their romance in accordance with the mode of + the best models, stretching himself a pallid corpse at the feet of his + Martha; but then it was that Fate put out a meddlesome finger, and so + caused the scene of the last chapter to take place at Tyburn. + </p> + <p> + The romance of Mr. Hackman and Miss Reay would never have taken place, if + Lord Sandwich had been as exemplary a husband as George III or Dr. Johnson + or Edmund Burke—the only exemplary husbands of the eighteenth + century that one can recall at a moment's notice. Unhappily his lordship + was one of the many examples of the unexemplary husband of that period. If + the Earl of Chesterfield advanced the ill-treatment of a wife to one of + the fine arts, it may be said that the Earl of Sandwich made it one of the + coarse. He was brutal in his treatment of the Countess, and never more so + than when he purchased the pretty child that Miss Reay must have been at + the age of thirteen, and had her educated to suit his tastes. He went + about the transaction with the same deliberation as a gourmand might + display in ordering his dinner. He was extremely fond of music, so he had + the child's education in this direction carefully attended to. His place + at Hinchinbrook had been the scene of the performance of several + oratorios, his lordship taking his place in the orchestra at the + kettledrums; and he hoped that by the time he should have his purchase + sent home, her voice would be equal to the demands put upon it by the most + exacting of the sacred soprano music of Handel or Gluck. + </p> + <p> + As it turned out he was not disappointed. Martha Reay, when she went to + live at Hinchinbrook at the age of eighteen, showed herself to be a most + accomplished young lady, as she certainly was a very charming one. She was + found to possess a lovely voice, and was quite fitted to take her place, + not merely in his lordship's music-room, but also in his drawing-room to + which he advanced her. To say that she was treated as one of his + lordship's family would be to convey a wrong impression, considering how + he treated the principal member of his family, but certainly he introduced + her to his guests, and she took her place at his table at dinner parties. + He even put her next to the wife of a bishop upon one occasion, feeling + sure that she would captivate that lady, and as it turned out, his + anticipations were fully realised; only the bishop's lady, on making + inquiries later on, protested that she was scandalised by being placed in + such a position as permitted of her yielding to the fascinations of a + young person occupying a somewhat equivocal position in the household. + </p> + <p> + It was when she was at Hinchinbrook, in October, 1775, that Miss Reay met + the man who was to play so important a part in her life—and death. + Cradock, the “country gentleman,” tells in his <i>Memoirs</i> the story of + the first meeting of the two. Lord Sandwich was anxious that a friend of + his own should be elected to a professorship at Cambridge, and Cradock, + having a vote, was invited to use it on behalf of his lordship's + candidate, and to stay for a night at Hinchinbrook on his way back to + London. He travelled in Lord Sandwich's coach, and when in the act of + driving through the gateway at Hinchinbrook, it overtook a certain Major + Reynolds and another officer who was stationed on recruiting duty in the + neighbourhood. Lord Sandwich, being acquainted with Reynolds, dismounted + and invited him and his friend to a family dinner at his lordship's place + that evening. Major Reynolds expressed his appreciation of this act of + courtesy, and introduced his friend as Captain Hackman. The party was a + simple affair. + </p> + <p> + It consisted of Lord Sandwich, Miss Reay, another lady, the two officers, + and Mr. Cradock. After coffee had been served two rubbers of whist were + played, and the party broke up. + </p> + <p> + This was the first meeting of Hackman and Miss Reay. They seem to have + fallen in love immediately, each with the other, for the first letter in + the correspondence, written in December, 1775, contains a good deal that + suggests the adolescence of a passion. Hackman was a man of education and + some culture, and he showed few signs of developing into that maudlin + sentimentalist who corresponded with the lady a year or two later. He was + but twenty-three years of age, the son of a retired officer in the navy, + who had sent him to St. John's College, Cambridge, and afterwards bought + him a commission in the 68th Foot. He was probably only an ensign when he + was stationed at Huntingdon, but being in charge of the recruiting party, + enjoyed the temporary rank of captain. + </p> + <p> + He must have had a pretty fair conceit of his own ability as a + correspondent, for he kept a copy of his love letters. Of course, there is + no means of ascertaining if he kept copies of all that he ever wrote; he + may have sent off some in the hot passion of the moment, but those which + passed into the hands of his brother-in-law and were afterwards published, + were copies which he had retained. Miss Reay was doubtless discreet enough + to destroy the originals before they had a chance of falling into the + hands of Lord Sandwich. It is difficult for us who live in this age of + scrawls and “correspondence cards” to imagine the existence of that + enormous army of letter-writers who flourished their quills in the + eighteenth century, for the entertainment of their descendants in the + nineteenth and twentieth; but still more difficult is it to understand + how, before the invention of any mechanical means of reproducing + manuscript, these voluminous correspondents first made a rough draft of + every letter, then corrected and afterwards copied it, before sending it—securing + a frank from a friendly Member of Parliament—to its destination. + </p> + <p> + Superlatively difficult is it to imagine an ardent lover sitting down to + transcribe into the pages of a notebook the outpourings of his passion. + But this is what Ensign Hackman did, although so far as the consequences + of his love-making were concerned, he is deserving of a far higher place + among great lovers than Charlotte's Werther, or Mr. Swinburne's Dolores. + Charlotte we know “went on cutting bread and butter” after the death of + her honourable lover; but poor little Miss Reay was the victim of the + passion which she undoubtedly fanned into a flame of madness. Ensign + Hackman made copies of his love-letters, and we are grateful to him, for + by their aid we can perceive the progress of his disease. They are like + the successive pictures in a biograph series lately exhibited at a + conversazione of the Royal Society, showing the development of a blossom + into a perfect flower. We see by the aid of these letters how he gave way + under the attack of what we should now call the bacillus of that maudlin + sentimentality which was in the air in his day. + </p> + <p> + He began his love-letters like a gallant officer, but ended them in the + strain of the distracted curate who had been jilted just when he has laid + down the cork lino in the new study and got rid of the plumbers. He wrote + merrily of his “Corporal Trim,” who was the bearer of a “billet” from her. + “He will be as good a soldier to Cupid as to Mars, I dare say. And Mars + and Cupid are not now to begin their acquaintance, you know.” Then he goes + on to talk in a fine soldierly strain of the drum “beating for volunteers + to Bacchus. In plain English, the drum tells me dinner is ready, for a + drum gives us bloody-minded heroes an appetite for eating as well as for + fighting.... Adieu—whatever hard service I may have after dinner, no + quantity of wine shall make me let drop or forget my appointment with you + tomorrow. We certainly were not seen yesterday, for reasons I will give + you.” + </p> + <p> + This letter was written on December 7th, and it was followed by another + the next day, and a still longer one the day following. In fact, Corporal + Trim must have been kept as busy as his original in the service of Uncle + Toby, during the month of December, his duty being to receive the lady's + letters, as well as to deliver the gentleman's, and he seems to have been + equally a pattern of fidelity. + </p> + <p> + Hackman's letters at this time were models of good taste, with only the + smallest amount of swagger in them. His intentions were strictly + honourable, and they were not concealed within any cocoon of sentimental + phraseology. One gathers from his first letters that he was a simple and + straightforward gentleman, who, having fallen pretty deeply in love with a + young woman, seeks to make her his wife at the earliest possible moment. + Unfortunately however, the lady had fallen under the influence of the + prevailing affectation, and her scheme of life did not include a + commonplace marriage with a subaltern in a marching regiment. One might be + disposed to say that she knew when she was well off. The aspiration to be + made “a respectable woman” by marriage in a church was not sufficiently + strong in her to compel her to sacrifice the many good things with which + she was surrounded, in order to realise it. But, of course, she was ready + to pose as a miserable woman, linked to a man whom she did not love, but + too honourable to leave him, and far too thoughtful for the career of the + man whom she did love with all her soul ever to become a burden to him. + She had read the ballad of “Auld Robin Gray”—she quoted it in full + in one of her letters—and she was greatly interested to find how + closely her case resembled that of the wife in the poem. She had brought + herself to think of the man who had bought her just as he would buy a + peach tree, or a new tulip, as her “benefactor.” Did she not owe to him + the blessing of a good education, and the culture of her voice, her + knowledge of painting—nay, her “keep” for several years, and her + introduction to the people of quality who visited at Hinchinbrook and at + the Admiralty? She seemed to think it impossible for any one to doubt that + Lord Sandwich had acted toward her with extraordinary generosity, and that + she would be showing the most contemptible ingratitude were she to forsake + so noble a benefactor. But all the same she found Hinchinbrook intolerably + dull at times, and she was so pleased at the prospect of having a lover, + that she came to fancy that she loved the first one who turned up. + </p> + <p> + She was undoubtedly greatly impressed by the ballad of “Auld Robin Gray,” + and she at once accepted the rôle of the unhappy wife, only she found it + convenient to modify one rather important line— + </p> + <p> + “I fain would think o' Jamie, but that would be a sin.” + </p> + <p> + She was fain to think on her Jamie whether it was a sin or not, but she + did so without having the smallest intention of leaving her Auld Robin + Gray. So whimsical an interpretation of the poem could scarcely occur to + any one not under the influence of the sentimental malady of the day; but + it served both for Miss Reay and her Jamie. They accepted it, and became + deeply sensible of its pathos as applied to themselves. Ensign Hackman + assured her that he was too high-minded to dream of making love to her + under the roof of Lord Sandwich, her “benefactor.” + </p> + <p> + “Our love, the inexorable tyrant of our hearts,” he wrote, “claims his + sacrifices, but does not bid us insult his lordship's walls with it. How + civilly did he invite me to Hinchinbrook in October last, though an + unknown recruiting officer. How politely himself first introduced me to + himself! Often has the recollection made me struggle with my passion. + Still it shall restrain it on this side honour.” + </p> + <p> + This was in reply to her remonstrance, and probably she regretted that she + had been so strenuous in pointing out to him how dreadful it would be were + she to show herself wanting in gratitude to Lord Sandwich. She wanted to + play the part of Jenny, the lawful wife of Robin Gray, with as few + sacrifices as possible, and she had no idea of sacrificing young Jamie, + the lover, any more than she had of relinquishing the many privileges she + enjoyed at Hinchinbrook by making Jamie the lover into Jamie the husband. + </p> + <p> + It is very curious to find Hackman protesting to her all this time that + his passions are “wild as the torrent's roar,” apologising for making his + simile water when the element most congenial to his nature was fire. + “Swift had water in his brain. I have a burning coal of fire; your hand + can light it up to rapture, rage, or madness. Men, real men, have never + been wild enough for my admiration, it has wandered into the ideal world + of fancy. Othello (but he should have put himself to death in his wife's + sight, not his wife), Zanga are my heroes. Milk-and-water passions are + like sentimental comedy.” + </p> + <p> + Read in the light of future events this letter has a peculiar + significance. Although he became more sentimental than the hero of any of + the comedies at which he was sneering, he was still able to make an honest + attempt to act up to his ideal of Othello. “<i>He should have put himself + to death in his wife's sight</i>.” It will be remembered that he pleaded + at his trial that he had no design upon the life of Miss Reay, but only + aimed at throwing himself dead at her feet. + </p> + <p> + Equally significant are some of the passages in the next letters which he + wrote to her. They show that even within the first month of his + acquaintance with his Martha his mind had a peculiar bent. He was giving + his attention to Hervey's <i>Meditations</i>, and takes pains to point out + to her two passages which he affirms to be as fine as they are natural. + Did ever love-letter contain anything so grisly? “A beam or two finds its + way through the grates (of the vault), and reflects a feeble glimness from + the nails of the coffins.” This is one passage—ghastly enough in all + conscience. But it is surpassed by the others which he quotes: “Should the + haggard skeleton lift a clattering hand.” Respecting the latter he + remarks, “I know not whether the epithet 'haggard' might not be spared.” + It is possible that the lady on receiving this curious love-letter was + under the impression that the whole passage might have been spared her. + </p> + <p> + But he seems to have been supping off horrors at this time, for he goes on + to tell a revolting story about the black hole of Calcutta; and then he + returns with zest to his former theme of murder and suicide. He had been + reading the poem of “Faldoni and Teresa,” by Jerningham, and he criticises + it quite admirably. “The melancholy tale will not take up three words, + though Mr. J. has bestowed upon it 335 melancholy lines,” he tells the + young lady. “Two lovers, meeting with an invincible object to their union, + determined to put an end to their existence with pistols. The place they + chose for the execution of their terrible project was a chapel that stood + at a little distance from the house. They even decorated the altar for the + occasion, they paid a particular attention to their own dress. Teresa was + dressed in white with rose-coloured ribbands. The same coloured ribbands + were tied to the pistols. Each held the ribband that was fastened to the + other's trigger, which they drew at a certain signal.” His criticism of + the poem includes the remark that Faldoni and Teresa might be prevented + from making proselytes by working up their affecting story so as to take + off the edge of the dangerous example they offer. This, he says, the + author has failed to do, and he certainly proves his point later by + affirming that “while I talk of taking off the dangerous edge of their + example, they have almost listed me under their bloody banners.” + </p> + <p> + This shows the morbid tendency of the man's mind, though it must be + confessed that nearly all the remarks which he makes on ordinary topics + are eminently sane and well considered. + </p> + <p> + A few days later we find him entering with enthusiasm into a scheme, + suggested by her, of meeting while she was on her way to London, and it is + plain from the rapturous letter which he wrote to her that their plot was + successful; but when she reached town she had a great deal to occupy her, + so that it is not strange she should neglect him for a time. The fact was, + as Cradock states in his <i>Memoirs</i>, that the unpopularity of Lord + Sandwich and Miss Reay had increased during the winter to such a point + that it became dangerous for them to show themselves together in public. + Ribald ballads were sung under the windows of the Admiralty, and Cradock + more than once heard some strange insults shouted out by people in the + park. It was at this time that she spoke to Cradock about appearing in + opera, and he states that it reached his ears that she had been offered + three thousand pounds and a free benefit (a possible extra five hundred) + for one season's performances. + </p> + <p> + Now if she had really been in love with Hackman this was surely the moment + when she should have gone to him, suffered him to marry her, and thus made + up by a few years on the lyric stage for any deficiency in his fortune or + for the forfeiture of any settlement her “benefactor” might have been + disposed to make in her favour. But she seems to have shown a remarkable + amount of prudence throughout the whole of her intrigue, and she certainly + had a premonition of the danger to which she was exposed by her connection + with him. “Fate stands between us,” she wrote in reply to one of his + impetuous upbraiding letters. “We are doomed to be wretched. And I, every + now and then, think some terrible catastrophe will be the result of our + connection. 'Some dire event,' as Storge prophetically says in <i>Jephtha</i>, + 'hangs over our heads.' Oh, that it were no crime to quit this world like + Faldoni and Teresa... by your hand I could even die with pleasure. I know + I could.” + </p> + <p> + An extraordinary premonition, beyond doubt, to write thus, and one is + tempted to believe that she had ceased for a moment merely to play the + part of the afflicted heroine. But her allusion to Jephtha and, later in + the same letter, to a vow which she said she had made never to marry him + so long as she was encumbered with debts, alleging that this was the + “insuperable reason” at which she had hinted on a previous occasion, makes + one suspicious. One feels that if she had not been practising the music of + <i>Jephtha</i> she would not have thought about her vow not to marry him + until she could go to him free from debt. Why, she had only to sing three + times to release herself from that burden. + </p> + <p> + Some time afterwards she seems to have suggested such a way of getting + over her difficulties, but it is pretty certain she knew that he would + never listen to her. Her position at this time was undoubtedly one of + great difficulty. Hackman was writing to her almost every day, and + becoming more high-minded and imperious in every communication, and she + was in terror lest some of his letters should fall into the hands of Lord + Sandwich. She was ready to testify to his lordship's generosity in + educating her to suit his own tastes, but she suspected its strength to + withstand such a strain as would be put on it if he came upon one of Mr. + Hackman's impetuous letters. + </p> + <p> + She thought that when she had induced her lover to join his regiment in + Ireland she had extricated herself from one of the difficulties that + surrounded her; and had she been strong enough to refrain from writing to + the man, she might have been saved from the result of her indiscretion. + Unhappily for herself, however, she felt it incumbent on her to resume her + correspondence with him. Upon one occasion she sent him a bank-note for + fifty pounds, but this he promptly returned with a very proper letter. + Indeed, all his letters from Ireland are interesting, being far less + impassioned than those which she wrote to him. Again she mentioned having + read <i>Werther</i>, and he promptly begged of her to send the book to + him. “If you do not,” he adds, “I positively never will forgive you. + Nonsense, to say it will make me unhappy, or that I shall not be able to + read it! Must I pistol myself because a thick-blooded German has been fool + enough to set the example, or because a German novelist has feigned such a + story?” + </p> + <p> + But it would appear that she knew the man's nature better than he himself + did, for she quickly replied: “The book you mention is just the only book + you should never read. On my knees I beg that you will never, never read + it!” But if he never read <i>Werther</i> he was never without some story + of the same type to console him for its absence, and he seems to have + gloated over the telling of all to her. One day he is giving her the + particulars of a woman who committed suicide in Enniskillen because she + married one man while she was in love with another. His comment is, “She, + too, was <i>Jenny</i> and had her <i>Robin Gray</i>.” His last letter from + Ireland was equally morbid. In it he avowed his intention, if he were not + granted leave of absence for the purpose of visiting her, of selling out + of his regiment. He kept his promise but too faithfully. He sold out and + crossed to England without delay, arriving in London only to find Miss + Reay extremely ill. + </p> + <p> + His attempts to cheer her convalescence cannot possibly be thought very + happy. He describes his attendance upon the occasion of the hanging of Dr. + Dodd, the clergyman who had committed forgery; and this reminds him that + he was unfortunately out of England when one Peter Tolosa was hanged for + killing his sweetheart, so that he had no chance of taking part in this + ceremony as well, although, he says, unlike George S.—meaning Selwyn—he + does not make a profession of attending executions; adding that “the + friend and historian of Paoli hired a window by the year, looking out on + the Grass Market in Edinburgh, where malefactors were hanged.” This + reference to Boswell is somewhat sinister. All this letter is devoted to a + minute account of the execution of Dodd, and another deals with the + revolting story of the butchery of Monmouth, which he suggests to her as + an appropriate subject for a picture. + </p> + <p> + At this time he was preparing for ordination, and, incidentally, for the + culmination of the tragedy of his life. He had undoubtedly become a + monomaniac, his “subject” being murder and suicide. His last lurid story + was of a footman who, “having in vain courted for some time a servant + belonging to Lord Spencer, at last caused the banns to be put up at church + without her consent, which she forbad. Being thus disappointed he + meditated revenge, and, having got a person to write a letter to her + appointing a meeting, he contrived to waylay her, and surprise her in Lord + Spencer's park. On her screaming he discharged a pistol at her and made + his escape.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh love, love, canst thou not be content to make fools of thy slaves,” he + wrote, “to make them miserable, to make them what thou pleasest? Must thou + also goad them on to crimes?” + </p> + <p> + Only two more letters did he write to his victim. He took Orders and + received the living of Wiveton, in Norfolk, seeming to take it for granted + that, in spite of her repeated refusals to marry him, she would relent + when she heard of the snug parsonage. This was acting on precisely the + same lines as the butler of whom he wrote. When he found that Miss Reay + was determined to play the part taken by the servant in the same story, + the wretched man hurried up to London and bought his pistols. + </p> + <p> + The whole story is a pitiful one. That the man was mad no one except a + judge and jury could doubt. That his victim was amply punished for her + indiscretion in leading him on even the strictest censor of conduct must + allow. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE COMEDY AT DOWNING STREET + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was possibly + because she was still conscious of having occupied the commanding position + of one of the royal bridesmaids, in spite of the two years that had + elapsed since King George III married his homely Mecklenburg princess, + that Lady Susan Fox-Strangways, the daughter of the first Earl of + Ilchester, became so autocratic during the rehearsal of the Downing Street + Comedy. A pretty fair amount of comedy as well as tragedy—with a + preponderance of farce—has been played in the same street from time + to time, but the special piece in which Lady Susan was interesting herself + was to be played at the house of Sir Francis Délavai, and its name was <i>The + School for Lovers</i>. It had been originally produced by Mr. David + Garrick at Drury Lane Theatre, an occasion upon which a young Irish + gentleman called O'Brien, who had disgraced himself by becoming an actor, + had attained great distinction. The piece had drawn the town during its + protracted run of eight nights, and Sir Francis Delaval's company of + amateurs perceived that it was just the play for them. It was said by the + critics that, for the first time for many years, an actor had been found + capable of playing the part of a gentleman of fashion as if to the manner + born. They referred to the acting of Mr. O'Brien, about whose gentlemanly + qualities there could be no doubt. Even his own brother actors affirmed + that no such perfect gentleman as that of O'Brien's creating had ever been + seen on the stage. So said Lee Lewes. Another excellent judge, named + Oliver Goldsmith, declared that William O'Brien was an elegant and + accomplished actor. + </p> + <p> + Of course this was the character, every aspiring amateur affirmed, to + which a gentleman-born would do ample justice. When O'Brien, who was an + actor, had represented the part with distinction, how much better would it + not be played by the real thing—the real gentleman who might + undertake it? + </p> + <p> + That was the very plausible reasoning of the “real gentleman” who hoped to + win applause by appearing in O'Brien's part in the comedy at Downing + Street. But when the piece was rehearsed with the young Viscount B———— + in the character, Lady Susan threw up her hands, and threatened to throw + up her part as well. + </p> + <p> + “Lud!” she cried to her associates in the temporary green-room, “Lud! you + would fancy that he had never seen a gentleman of fashion in his life! Why + cannot he act himself instead of somebody else? When he comes from + rehearsal he is the very character itself, but the moment he begins to + speak his part he is no more the part than the link-boy.” + </p> + <p> + Every one present agreed with her—the young gentlemen who were + anxious to have the reversion of the part were especially hearty in their + acquiescence. + </p> + <p> + But there could be no doubt about the matter, Lord B——— + was deplorably incompetent. He was not even consistently incompetent, for + in one scene in the second act, where there was an element of boisterous + humour, he was tame and spiritless; but in the love-making scene, which + brought the third act to a close, he was awkward, and so anxious to show + his spirit that he became as vulgar as any country clown making advances + to his Meg or Polly. + </p> + <p> + And of course he felt all the time that he was doing amazingly well. + </p> + <p> + Lady Susan was angry at first, and then she became witty. Her sallies, + directed against him in every scene, were, however, lost upon him, no + matter how calculated they were to sting him; he was too self-satisfied to + be affected by any criticism that might be offered to him by man or woman. + </p> + <p> + And then Lady Susan was compelled to abandon her wit and to become + natural. She flounced off the stage when her lover (in the play) was more + than commonly loutish, and burst into tears of vexation in the arms of her + dear friend Lady Sarah Lennox. + </p> + <p> + “I never had such a chance until now,” she cried. “Never, oh, never! The + part might have been written for me; and I implore of you, Sarah, to tell + me candidly if Mrs. Abington or Mrs. Clive could act it with more + sprightliness than I have shown in that last scene?” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible, my sweet Sue!” cried her friend. “I vow that I have never + seen anything more arch than your mock rejection of your lover, only to + draw him on.” + </p> + <p> + “You dear creature!” cried Lady Sue. “You are a true friend and a + competent critic, Sarah. But what signifies my acting, perfect though it + be, when that—that idiot fails to respond in any way to the spirit + which I display? The whole play will be damned, and people who know + nothing of the matter will spread the report that 'twas my lack of power + that brought about the disaster.” + </p> + <p> + “They cannot be so vile,” said Lady Sarah soothingly. + </p> + <p> + “But they will. I know how vile some of our friends can be when it suits + them, and when they are jealous of the acquirements of another. They will + sneer at my best scenes—oh, the certainty that they will do so will + be enough to make my best scenes fail. But no! they shall not have the + chance of maligning me. I will go to Sir Francis and resign my part. Yes, + I will! I tell you I shall!” + </p> + <p> + The indignant young lady, with something of the stage atmosphere still + clinging to her, flung herself with the gesture of a tortured heroine, + proud and passionate, toward the door of the room to which the two ladies + had retired. But before she had her fingers on the handle the door opened + and Sir Francis Délavai entered. + </p> + <p> + “A thousand pardons, my dear ladies,” he cried, bowing to the carpet. “I + had forgot for the moment that when a man turns his house into a theatre + he can call no room in it his own. But I should be a churl to suggest that + any room in my poor house would not be made beautiful by the presence of + your ladyships. After all, this is only my library, and a library is only + a polite name for a dormitory, and a—but what is this? I said not a + lacrymatory.” + </p> + <p> + He was looking curiously into Lady Susan's face, which retained the marks + of her recent tears. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Sir Francis, you have come in good time,” said Lady Sarah boldly. + “Here is this poor child weeping her heart out because she is condemned to + play the part of—of what's her name?—the lady in the play who + had to make love to an ass?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir, mine is a far worse plight,” said Lady Susan, pouting. “It were + bad enough for one to have to make love to an ass, but how much worse is't + not for one to be made love to by—by—my Lord B———?” + </p> + <p> + “That were a calculation far above my powers,” said Sir Francis. “My lord + has never made love to me, but if rumour and the gossip at White's speak + even a soupçon of truth, his lordship is well practised in the art—if + love-making is an art.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, 'tis a combination of all the arts,” said Lady Susan; “and yet my + lord cannot simulate the least of them, which is that of being a + gentleman, when he makes love to me on the stage, through the character of + Captain Bellaire in our play.” + </p> + <p> + “To be plain, Sir Francis,” said Lady Sarah, as though the other had not + been plain enough in her explanation, “To be plain, Lady Susan, rather + than be associated in any measure with such a failure as your theatricals + are bound to be if my Lord B——— remains in the part of + her lover, has made up her mind to relinquish her part. But believe me, + sir, she does so with deep regret.” + </p> + <p> + “Hence these tears,” said Sir Francis. “My poor child, you are indeed in a + pitiable state if you are so deeply chagrined at a clumsy love-making + merely on the stage.” + </p> + <p> + “Merely on the stage?” cried Lady Susan. “Lud, Sir Francis, have you not + the wit to see that to be made love to indifferently on the stage is far + more unendurable than it would be in private, since in the one case you + have the eyes of all the people upon you, whereas in the other case you + are as a rule alone?” + </p> + <p> + “As a rule,” said Sir Francis. “Yes, I perceive the difference, and I + mingle mine own turgid tears with your limpid drops. But we cannot spare + you from our play.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you cannot, Sir Francis, but you can spare Lord B———, + and so can the play,” suggested Lady Sarah. + </p> + <p> + “What, you would have me turn him out of the part?” said Sir Francis. + </p> + <p> + “Even so—but with politeness,” said Lady Sarah. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps your ladyship has solved the problem how to kick a man out of + your house politely. If so, I would willingly pay you for the recipe; I + have been in search of it all my life,” said Sir Francis. + </p> + <p> + “Surely, sir, if you kick a man hard enough with your slippers on he will + leave your house as surely as if you wear the boots of a Life Guardsman,” + said Lady Susan timidly. + </p> + <p> + “I doubt it not, madam; but before trying such an experiment it would be + well to make sure that the fellow does not wear boots himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Psha! Sir Francis. If a man were to beg leave to measure the thickness of + his enemy's soles before offering to kick him there would be very few + cases of assault and battery,” cried Lady Susan. + </p> + <p> + “That is good philosophy—see what we have come to—philosophy, + when we started talking of lovemaking,” said Sir Francis. + </p> + <p> + “However we have digressed in conversation, sir, our minds remain + steadfast on the point round which we have been circling,” said Lady + Sarah. + </p> + <p> + “And that is———” + </p> + <p> + “That Lord B———must go.” + </p> + <p> + The door was thrown open and Lord B——— entered. + </p> + <p> + “A good preliminary—one must come before one goes,” whispered Sir + Francis to the ladies. + </p> + <p> + His lordship was evidently perturbed. He scarcely bowed either to Sir + Francis or the ladies. + </p> + <p> + “I was told that you had come hither, Sir Francis,” he said, “so I + followed you.” + </p> + <p> + “You do me honour, my lord,” said Sir Francis. + </p> + <p> + “I took a liberty, sir; but this is not a time for punctilio. I have come + to resign my part in your play, sir,” said his lordship. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, surely not, my lord,” cried Sir Francis. “What would the <i>School + for Lovers</i> be without Bellaire, my lord? Why only now Lady Susan was + saying—what is it that your ladyship said?” + </p> + <p> + “It had something to do with philosophy and the sole of a grenadier,” said + Lady Sarah interposing. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, was it not that his lordship's impersonation made you think of a + scene from <i>Midsummer Night's Dream?</i>” said Sir Francis. “One of the + most beautiful of Shakespeare's plays, is't not, my lord?—fantasy + mingled with irony, an oasis of fairyland in the midst of a desert of + daily life.” + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing about your fairyland, sir, but I have been told within the + hour that her ladyship”—he bowed in the direction of Lady Susan—“has, + during the three rehearsals which we have had of the play, been sneering + in a covert way at my acting of the part of Bellaire, although to my face + she seemed delighted, and thus——” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure that your informant was right in his interpretation of her + ladyship's words? Surely your lordship—a man of the world—would + have been sensible of every shade of her ladyship's meaning?” + </p> + <p> + “I have been told by one on whose judgment I can rely that Lady Susan was + speaking in sarcasm when she complimented me before the rest of the + company. I did not take her as doing so for myself, I must confess. I have + always believed—on insufficient evidence, I begin to fear—that + her ladyship was a discriminating critic—even now if she were to + assure me that she was not speaking in sarcasm——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, lud! he is relenting,” whispered Lady Sarah. + </p> + <p> + “Did you speak, madam?” said his lordship. + </p> + <p> + “I was protesting against a too early exercise of your lordship's + well-known spirit of forgiveness,” said her ladyship. + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, Lady Sarah; I am, I know, too greatly inclined to take a + charitable view of—of—Why, sink me if she, too, is not trying + to make me look ridiculous!” cried his lordship. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, my lord, I cannot believe that Lady Sarah would be at the pains to + do for you what you can so well do for yourself,” remarked Lady Susan. + </p> + <p> + His lordship looked at her—his mouth was slightly open—then he + gazed at the smiling features of the beautiful Lady Sarah, lastly at the + perfectly expressionless features of Sir Francis. + </p> + <p> + “A plot—a plot!” he murmured. Then he struck a commonplace + theatrical attitude, the “exit attitude” of the man who tells you that his + time will come, though appearances are against him for the moment. He + pointed a firm forefinger at Lady Susan, saying: “I wash my hands clear of + you all. I have done with you and your plays. Get another man to fill my + place if you can.” + </p> + <p> + Then he rushed out through the open door. He seemed to have a shrewd + suspicion that if he were to wait another moment one at least of the girls + would have an effective answer to his challenge, and it is quite likely + that his suspicion was well founded. As it was, however, owing to his wise + precipitancy he heard no more than the pleasant laughter—it really + was pleasant laughter, though it did not sound so to him—of the two + girls. + </p> + <p> + But when the sound of the slamming of the hall-door reached the library + the laughter in that apartment suddenly ceased. Sir Francis Délavai looked + at each of the ladies, and both of them looked at him. For some moments no + word was exchanged between them. At last one of them spoke—it was, + strange to say, the man. + </p> + <p> + “This is vastly fine, ladies,” he remarked. “You have got rid of your <i>bête-noire</i>, + Lady Susan; that, I say, is vastly fine, but where are you to find a <i>bête-blanche</i> + to take his place?” + </p> + <p> + “Surely we can find some gentleman willing to act the part of Bellaire?” + said Lady Sarah. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there is not like to be a lack of young gentlemen willing to take the + part, but we want not merely willingness, but competence as well; and the + piece must be played on Wednesday, even though the part of Bellaire be + left out,” said Sir Francis. + </p> + <p> + Lady Susan looked blankly at the floor. She seemed ready to renew the + tears which she had wept on the shoulder of her friend a short time + before. + </p> + <p> + “Have I been too hasty?” she said. “Alas! I fear that I have been selfish. + I thought only of the poor figure that I should cut with such a lover—and + with all the world looking on, too! I should have given more thought to + your distress, Sir Francis.” + </p> + <p> + “Say no more, I pray of you; better have no play at all than one that all + our kind friends will damn with the utmost cordiality and good breeding,” + said Sir Francis. + </p> + <p> + “True, sir, but think of the ladies' dresses!” said Lady Sarah. “What the + ladies say is, 'Better produce a play that will be cordially damned rather + than deprive us of our chance of displaying our new dresses.'” + </p> + <p> + “Heavens!” cried Sir Francis, “I had not thought of the new dresses. Lady + Susan, you will e'en have to face the anger of your sisters—'tis not + I that will tarry for such an event. I mean to fly to Bath or + Brighthelmstone, or perchance to Timbuctoo, until the storm be overpast.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, nay, 'tis not a time for jesting, sir; let us not look at the matter + from the standpoint of men, who do not stand but run away, let us be women + for once, and scheme,” said Lady Susan. + </p> + <p> + “That is woman's special province,” said Sir Francis. “Pray begin, my lady—'twill + be strange if your ladyship and Lady Sarah do not succeed in——” + </p> + <p> + “Psha! there is but one man in England who could play the part of Bellaire + on Wednesday,” cried Lady Sarah. “Ay, sir, and he is the only one in + England capable of playing it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we shall have him on our stage if I should have to pay a thousand + pounds for his services,” said Sir Francis. “But where is he to be found?” + </p> + <p> + “Cannot you guess, sir?” asked Lady Sarah, smiling. + </p> + <p> + Sir Francis looked puzzled, but Lady Sue started and caught her friend by + the wrist. + </p> + <p> + “You do not mean——” she began. + </p> + <p> + “Lud! these girls! Here's a scheme if you will!” muttered Sir Francis. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, if you will, Sir Francis. You know that I mean Mr. O'Brien himself + and none other,” cried Lady Sarah. + </p> + <p> + “Impossible!” cried Lady Susan. “My father would never consent to my + acting in a play with a real actor—no, not even if he were Mr. + Garrick himself. How could you suggest such a thing, Sarah?” + </p> + <p> + “What, do you mean to tell me that you would refuse to act with Mr. + O'Brien?” asked Lady Sarah. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, hear the child!” cried Lady Susan. “She asks me a question to which + she knows only one answer is possible, and looks all the time as though + she expected just the opposite answer!” + </p> + <p> + “I know well that there are a good many ladies who would give all that + they possess for the chance of acting with Mr. O'Brien, and you are among + the number, my dear,” laughed Lady Sarah. + </p> + <p> + “I dare not—I dare not. And yet——” murmured the other + girl. + </p> + <p> + Sir Francis had been lost in thought while the two had been bickering over + the body of O'Brien. He had walked across the room and seated himself for + some moments. Now he rose and held up a finger. + </p> + <p> + “Ladies, this is a serious matter for all of us,” he said. And he spoke + the truth to a greater depth than he was aware of. “'Tis a very serious + matter. If we get Mr. O'Brien to play the part, the piece will be the + greatest success of the day. If we fail to get him, our theatricals will + be damned to a certainty. Lady Susan, will you consent to play with him if + his name does not appear upon the bill?” + </p> + <p> + “But every one would know Mr. O'Brien,” she faltered, after a pause that + was overcharged with excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, in fact; but no one will have official cognizance of him, and, as + you must know, in these matters of etiquette everything depends upon + official cognizance.” + </p> + <p> + “My father—” + </p> + <p> + “His lordship will have no <i>locus standi</i> in the case. He cannot take + notice of an act that is not officially recognisable,” suggested Sir + Francis, the sophist. + </p> + <p> + “If you assure me—— But is't true that Mr. O'Brien only ceased + to become a gentleman when he became an actor?” said Lady Susan. + </p> + <p> + “I have not heard that he relinquished the one part when he took up the + other,” said Sir Francis. “I wonder that you have not met him at the + houses of some of our friends—he is more popular even than Mr. + Garrick. The family of O'Brien——” + </p> + <p> + “All kings, I doubt not,” said Lady Susan. “There were a good many kings + in Ireland in the old days, I believe. I read somewhere that ninety-seven + kings were killed in one battle, and still there were quite enough left to + carry on the quarrels of the country. Oh, yes, there were plenty of kings, + and their descendants have—well, descended. Mr. O'Brien descended + pretty far when he became a play-actor.” + </p> + <p> + “If he condescends to take up the part of Bellaire at the eleventh hour to + pluck our theatricals out of the fire we shall have every reason to be + grateful to him,” said Sir Francis with a severe air of reproof. He was + beginning to be tired—as others in his place have been from time to + time—of the capriciousness of his company of amateurs. + </p> + <p> + “You are right, sir,” said Lady Sarah. “Come, my dear Sue, cease to give + yourself the airs of those ladies who, Mr. Garrick affirms, have been the + plague of his life. If Mr. O'Brien agrees to come to our rescue you should + have no feeling but of gratitude to him. Surely 'twere churlish on the + part of a damsel when a gallant knight rides up to her rescue to look at + his horse in the mouth.” + </p> + <p> + “I am thinking of my father,” said the other. “But I am disposed to accept + the risk of the situation. You will promise that his name will not appear + in the bills, Sir Francis?” + </p> + <p> + “I will promise to do my best to save you from the contamination of having + your name made as immortal as Mr. O'Brien's,” said Sir Francis. + </p> + <p> + Lady Sarah laughed, and so did her friend—after a pause sufficient + to allow the colour that had come to her face at the stinging reproof to + die away. + </p> + <p> + “I hope that you may catch your bird, sir—your eagle—your + Irish eagle.” + </p> + <p> + “If I could tell him that Lady Sarah Lennox was to be in the cast of the + play I should need no further lure for him,” said Sir Francis, making his + most exquisite bow to her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir, you overwhelm me,” said Lady Sarah, sinking in her most + ravishing courtesy. + </p> + <p> + Lady Susan coloured once more, and her foot played a noiseless tattoo on + the floor, for she perceived all that Sir Francis's compliment implied. + Lady Sarah was the most beautiful girl in England, while Lady Susan was + not even second to her, a fact of which she was as well aware as her + friends. + </p> + <p> + This was how Lady Susan Fox-Strangways first met Mr. O'Brien, the actor + whom Garrick had brought from Ireland in the year 1762. He good-naturedly + agreed to help Sir Francis Délavai in his extremity, and his ready Irish + tact enabled him to be the first to stipulate that his name should not + appear in the bills—a condition with which Sir Francis complied, + drawing a long breath. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. O'Brien,” he said, “should the stage ever fail you, a fortune awaits + you if you undertake the duty of teaching gentlemen the art of being a + gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, sir, the moment that art enters the door the gentleman flies out by + the window,” said the actor. “It is Nature, not art, that makes a + gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + One can well believe that Lady Susan Fox-Strangways, with all the pride of + her connection with a peerage nearly ten years old, treated Mr. O'Brien's + accession to a place in the company of amateurs with some hauteur, though + it was said that she fell in love with him at once. On consideration, her + bearing of hauteur which we have ventured to assign to her, so far from + being incompatible with her having fallen in love with him, would really + be a natural consequence of such an accident, and the deeper she felt + herself falling the more she would feel it necessary to assert her + position, if only for the sake of convincing herself that it was + impossible for her to forget herself so far as to think of an Irish + play-actor as occupying any other position in regard to her than that of a + diversion for the moment. + </p> + <p> + It was equally a matter of course that Lady Sarah should have an instinct + of what was taking place. She had attended several of the rehearsals + previously in the capacity of adviser to her friend, for Lady Susan had a + high opinion of her critical capacity; but not until two rehearsals had + taken place with O'Brien as Bellaire was she able to resume her attendance + at Downing Street. Before half an hour had passed this astute lady had + seen, first, that O'Brien made every other man in the cast seem a lout; + and, secondly, that Lady Susan felt that every man in the world was a lout + by the side of O'Brien. + </p> + <p> + She hoped to discover what were the impressions of O'Brien, but she found + herself foiled: the man was too good an actor to betray himself. The + fervour which he threw into the character when making love to Lady Susan + had certainly the semblance of a real passion, but what did this mean more + than that Mr. O'Brien was a convincing actor? + </p> + <p> + When she arrived at this point in her consideration of the situation Lady + Sarah lost herself, and began to long with all her heart that the actor + were making love to her—taking her hand with that incomparable + devotion to—was it his art?—which he showed when Lady Susan's + hand was raised, with a passionate glance into her eyes, to his lips; + putting his arm about her waist, while his lips, trembling under the force + of the protestations of undying devotion which they were uttering, were + almost touching Lady Susan's ear. Before the love scene was over Lady + Sarah was in love with the actor, if not with the man, O'Brien. + </p> + <p> + So was every lady in the cast. O'Brien was the handsomest actor of the + day. He had been careful of his figure at a time when men of fashion lived + in such a way as made the preservation of a figure well-nigh impossible. + Every movement was grace itself with him, and the period was one in which + the costume of a man gave him every chance of at least imitating a + graceful man. All the others in the cast of the play seemed imitating the + gracefulness of O'Brien, and every man of them seemed a clown beside him. + They gave themselves countless graces, but he was grace itself. + </p> + <p> + Lady Sarah saw everything that was to be seen and said nothing. She was + wise. She knew that in due time her friend would tell her all there was to + be told. + </p> + <p> + She was not disappointed. The play was produced, and of course every one + recognised O'Brien in the part, although the bill—printed in gold + letters on a satin ground, with a charming allegorical design by Lady + Diana Spencer, showing a dozen dainty cupids going to school with satchels—stated + that Bellaire would be represented by “a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + Equally as a matter of course a good many of the spectators affirmed that + it was intolerable that a play-actor should be smuggled into a company of + amateurs, some of them belonging to the best families. And then to attempt + a deception of the audience by suggesting that O'Brien was a gentleman—oh, + the thing was unheard of! So said some of the ladies, adding that they + thought it rather sad that Lady Susan was not better-looking. + </p> + <p> + But of the success of the entertainment there could not be a doubt. It was + the talk of the town for a month, and every one noticed—even her own + father—that Lady Susan was looking extremely thin and very pale. + </p> + <p> + Lady Sarah said that she had taken the diversion of the theatricals too + seriously. + </p> + <p> + “I saw it from the first, my dear Sue,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Sue sprang from her chair, and it would be impossible for any one to say + now that she was over pale. + </p> + <p> + “You saw it—you—what was it that you saw from the first?” she + cried. + </p> + <p> + Lady Sarah looked at her and laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that is it—what was it that I saw from the first?” she said. + “What I was going to say that I saw was simply that you were throwing + yourself too violently into the production of the play. That was why you + insisted on poor Lord B———'s getting his <i>congé</i>. + It was a mistake—I saw that also.” + </p> + <p> + “When did you see that?” + </p> + <p> + “When I saw you taking part in that love scene with Mr. O'Brien.” + </p> + <p> + “What mean you by that, Lady Sarah?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly what you fancy I mean, Lady Susan.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Susan gazed at her blankly at first, then very pitifully. In another + moment she had flung herself on her knees at the feet of her friend and + was weeping in her lap. + </p> + <p> + The friend was full of sympathy. + </p> + <p> + “You poor child!” she murmured, “how could you help it? I vow that I + myself—yes, for some minutes—I was as deep in love with the + fellow as you yourself were. But, of course, you were with him longer—every + day. Lud! what a handsome rascal he is, to be sure. His lordship must take + you to the country without delay. Has the fellow tried to transfer the + character in the play beyond the footlights?” + </p> + <p> + “Never—never!” cried Susan. “Sir Francis was right—he is a + gentleman. That is the worst of it!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, lud! the worst of it? Are you mad, girl?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not mad now, but I know that I shall be if he remains a gentleman—if + he refrains from telling me that he loves me—or at least of giving + me a chance of telling him that I love him. That would be better than + nothing—'twould be such a relief. I really do not think that I want + anything more than to be able to confess to him that I love him—that + 'tis impossible that I should love another.” + </p> + <p> + “The sooner you go to the country the better 'twill be for yourself and + all of us—his lordship especially. Good heavens, child, you must be + mad! Do you fancy that his lordship would give his consent to your + marriage with a strolling player, let him be as handsome as Beelzebub?” + </p> + <p> + “He is not a strolling player. Mr. O'Brien is in Mr. Garrick's company, + and every one knows that he is of good family. I have been searching it + out for the past week—all about the O'Briens—there were a + great many of them, all of them distinguished. If it had not been that + King James was defeated by William, in Ireland, Mr. O'Brien's grandfather + would have been made a duke. They were all heroes, the O'Briens. And they + were just too sincere in their devotion to the losing side—that was + it—the losing side was always the one they took up. And yet you call + him a strolling player!” + </p> + <p> + “I take back the insinuation and offer him my apologies; he is not a + strolling player because he doesn't stroll—would to Heaven he did! + Oh, my poor Sue, take a stroll into the country yourself as soon as + possible and try to forget this dreadfully handsome wretch. You would not, + I am sure, force me to tell his lordship what a goose his daughter is like + to make of herself.” + </p> + <p> + At this point there was a dramatic scene, one that was far more deeply + charged with comedy of a sort than any to be found in Mr. Whitehead's + play. Lady Susan accused her dear friend of being a spy, of extorting a + confession from her under the guise of friendship, which in other + circumstances—the rack, the wheel, the thumbscrew, in fact the + entire mechanism of persuasion employed by the Spanish Inquisition—would + have been powerless to obtain. Lady Sarah on her side entreated her friend + not to show herself to be even a greater goose than her confession would + make her out to be. For several minutes there was reproach and + counter-reproach, many home truths followed home thrusts; then some tears, + self-accusation, expressions of sympathy and tenderness, followed by + promises of friendship beyond the dreams of Damon and Pythias; lastly, a + promise on the part of Sue that she would take the advice of her devoted + Sarah and fly to the country without delay. + </p> + <p> + Strange to say, she fled to the country, and, stranger still, the result + was not to cure her of her infatuation for the handsome actor. For close + upon a year she did not see him, but she was as devoted to him as she had + been at first, and no day passed on which she failed to think of him, or + to spend some hours writing romantic verses, sometimes in the style of + Waller in his lyrics, sometimes in the style (distant) of Mr. Dryden in + his pastorals: she was Lesbia, and Mr. O'Brien was Strephon. + </p> + <p> + But in the meantime she had improved so much in her acting that when Lady + Sarah, who had within the year married Sir Thomas Bunbury, ventured to + rally her upon her infatuation of the previous spring, she was able to + disarm her suspicions by a flush and a shrug, and a little contemptuous + exclamation or two. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my dear one, did not I give you good advice?” cried Lady Sarah. “I + was well assured that my beloved Sue would never persevere in a passion + that could only end in unhappiness. But indeed, child, I never had the + heart to blame you greatly, the fellow is handsome as Apollo and as proud + as Apolyon. He has broken many hearts not accounted particularly fragile, + during the year.” + </p> + <p> + “Is't possible? For example?—I vow that I shall keep their names + secret.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Sarah shook her head at first, but on being importuned whispered a + name or two of ladies of their acquaintance, all of whom—according + to Lady Sarah—had fallen as deep as was possible in love with + O'Brien. Her ladyship was so intent on her narration of the scandals that + she quite failed to see the strange light that gleamed in her friend's + eyes at the mention of every name—a rather fierce gleam, with a + flash of green in it. She did not notice this phenomenon, nor did she + detect the false note in the tribute of laughter which her friend paid to + her powers of narration. + </p> + <p> + But Lady Sue, when the other had left her, rushed to her room and flung + herself on her bed in a paroxysm of jealousy. She beat her innocent pillow + wildly, crying in the whisper that the clenching of her teeth made + imperative—“The hussies! Shameless creatures! Do they hope that he + will be attracted to them? Fools!—they are fools! They do not know + him as I know him. They think that he is nothing but a vain actor—Garrick, + or Barry, or Lewes. Oh, they do not know him!” + </p> + <p> + She lay there in her passion for an hour, and if it was her maid who + discovered her at the end of that time, it is safe to assume that the + young woman's flesh was black and blue in places for several days + afterwards. The pinch and the slipper were among the most highly approved + forms of torture inflicted upon their maids at that robust period of + English history. The French Revolution was still some way off. + </p> + <p> + A few weeks later Lady Susan was sitting to Sir Joshua Reynolds for a + group, in which he painted her with her friend Lady Sarah Bunbury and Mr. + Henry Fox; and it was the carrying out of this scheme that put quite + another scheme into the quick brain of the first-named lady. Painting was + in the air. She possessed a poor print of Mr. O'Brien, and she had found + an immense consolation in gazing upon it—frequently at midnight, + under the light of her bedroom candle. The sight of the life-like + portraits in Sir Joshua's studio induced her to ask herself if she might + not possess a picture of her lover that would show him as he really was in + life, without demanding so many allowances as were necessary to be made + for the shortcomings of the engraver of a print. Why should she not get + Sir Joshua Reynolds to paint for her the portrait of Mr. O'Brien? + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0016" id="linkimage-0016"> </a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0379.jpg" alt="0379 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0379.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + The thought was a stimulating one, and it took possession of her for a + week. At the end of that time, however, she came to the conclusion that it + would be unwise for her to employ Sir Joshua on a commission that might + possibly excite some comment on the part of her friends should they come + to learn—and the work of this particular painter was rather inclined + to be assertive—that it had been executed to her order. But she was + determined not to live any longer without a portrait of the man; and, + hearing some one mention at Sir Joshua's house the name of Miss Catherine + Read, who was described as an excellent portrait painter, she made further + inquiry, and the result was that she begged her father, the Earl of + Ilchester, who was devoted to her, to allow her to have her portrait done + by Miss Read, to present to Lady Sarah on her birthday. + </p> + <p> + Of course Miss Read was delighted to have the patronage of so great a + family—she had not yet done her famous pastel of the Duchess of + Argyll—and Susan, accompanied by her footman, lost no time in + beginning her series of sittings to the artist to whom Horace Walpole + referred as “the painteress.” + </p> + <p> + She was both patient and discreet, for three whole days elapsed before she + produced a mezzotint of Mr. O'Brien. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if you would condescend to draw a miniature portrait of his + lordship's favourite actor from so poor a copy as this, Miss Read?” she + said. “Have you ever seen this Mr. O'Brien—an Irishman, I believe he + is?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Read assured her that Mr. O'Brien was her favourite actor also. The + print produced was indeed a poor one; it quite failed to do justice to the + striking features of the original, she said. + </p> + <p> + “I felt certain that it could bear but a meagre resemblance to Mr. O'Brien + if all that I hear of the man be true,” said Lady Susan. “His lordship + swears that there has never been so great an actor in England, and I + should like to give him a surprise by presenting to him a miniature + portrait of his favourite, done by the cunning pencil of Miss Read, on his + birthday. I protest that 'tis a vast kindness you are doing me in + undertaking such a thing. But mind, I would urge of you to keep the affair + a profound secret. I wish it as a surprise to my father, and its effect + would be spoilt were it to become known to any of his friends that I had + this intention.” + </p> + <p> + “Your ladyship may rest assured that no living creature will hear of the + affair through me,” said the painteress. “But I heartily wish that your + ladyship could procure for me a better copy than this print from which to + work,” she added. + </p> + <p> + “I fear that I cannot promise you that; I found two other prints of the + same person, but they are worse even than this,” said Lady Susan. “You + must do your best with the material at your disposal.” + </p> + <p> + “Your ladyship may depend on my doing my best,” replied Miss Read. “When + does his lordship's birthday take place?” + </p> + <p> + Her ladyship was somewhat taken aback by the sudden question. It took her + some time to recollect that her father's birthday was to be within a + month. She felt that she could not live for longer than another month + without a portrait of the man whom she loved. + </p> + <p> + While she was going home in her chair she could not but feel that she had + hitherto been an undutiful daughter, never having taken any interest in + her father's birthday, and being quite unacquainted with its date. She + hoped fervently that Miss Read would not put herself to the trouble to + find out exactly on what day of what month it took place. The result of + such an investigation might be a little awkward. + </p> + <p> + It so happened that Miss Read took no trouble in this direction. All her + attention was turned upon the task of making a presentable miniature out + of the indifferent material with which she had been supplied for this + purpose. She began wondering if it might not be possible to get O'Brien to + sit to her half a dozen times in order to give her a chance of doing + credit to herself and to the gentleman's fine features. + </p> + <p> + She was still pondering over this question when her attendant entered with + a card, saying that a gentleman had come to wait on her. + </p> + <p> + She read the name on the card, and uttered an exclamation of surprise, for + the name was that of the man of whom she was thinking—Mr. O'Brien, + of Drury Lane Theatre. + </p> + <p> + She had wholly failed to recover herself before he entered the studio, and + advanced to her, making his most respectful bow. He politely ignored her + flutter-ings—he was used to see her sex overwhelmed when he + appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Madam, I beg that you will pardon this intrusion,” he said. “I have taken + the liberty of waiting upon you, knowing of your great capacity as an + artist.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir!” cried the fluttered little lady, making her courtesy. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, madam, I have no intention of flattering one to whom compliments + must be as customary as they are well deserved,” said the actor. “I come + not to confer a favour, madam, but to entreat one. In short, Miss Read, I + am desirous of presenting a valued friend of mine with the portrait of a + lady for whom he entertains a sincere devotion. For certain reasons, which + I need not specify, the lady cannot sit to you; but I have here a picture + of her poorly done in chalks, from which I hope it may be in your power to + make a good—a good—— Good heavens! what do I behold? 'Tis + she—she—Lady Susan herself!” + </p> + <p> + He had glanced round the studio in the course of his speech, and his eyes + had alighted upon the newly-begun portrait of Lady Susan. It represented + only a few days' work, but the likeness to the original had been ably + caught, and no one could fail to recognise the features. + </p> + <p> + He took a hurried step to the easel, and the air made by his motion + dislodged a print which the artist had laid on the little ledge that + supported the stretcher of the canvas. The print fluttered to the floor; + he picked it up, and gave another exclamation on recognising his own + portrait in the mezzotint. + </p> + <p> + Looking from the print to the picture and then at Miss Read, he said in a + low voice, after a pause—“Madam, I am bewildered. Unless you come to + my assistance I protest I shall feel that I am dreaming and asleep. Pray, + madam, enlighten me—for Heaven's sake tell me how this”—he + held up the print—“came into such close juxtaposition with that”—he + pointed to the portrait on the easel. + </p> + <p> + “'Tis easily told, sir,” said Miss Read, smiling archly. “But I must leave + it to your sense of honour to keep the matter a profound secret.” + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” said Mr. O'Brien with dignity, “Madam, I am an Irishman.” + </p> + <p> + “That is enough, sir; I know that I can trust you. The truth is, Mr. + O'Brien, that Lady Susan is sitting to me for her portrait—that + portrait. 'Twas marvellous that you should recognise it so soon. I have + not worked at it for many hours.” + </p> + <p> + “Madam, your art is beyond that of the magician. 'Tis well known that + every form depicted by Miss Read not only breathes but speaks.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir, I vow that you are a flatterer; still, you did recognise the + portrait—'tis to be presented to Lady Sarah Bunbury.” + </p> + <p> + “Her ladyship will be the most fortunate of womankind.” + </p> + <p> + “Which ladyship, sir—Lady Susan or Lady Sarah?” + </p> + <p> + “Both, madam.” The Irishman was bowing with his hand on his heart. “But + the print—my poor likeness?” + </p> + <p> + “That is the secret, sir; but you will not betray it when I tell you that + Lady Susan entrusted that print to me in order that I might make a copy in + miniature for her to present to her father, Lord Ilchester. You are his + favourite actor, Mr. O'Brien, as no doubt you are aware.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis the first I heard of it, madam.” There was a suggestion of + mortification in the actor's tone. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, 'twould be impossible for Mr. O'Brien to keep an account of all his + conquests. But now you can understand how it is that her ladyship wishes + her intention to be kept a secret: she means to add to the acceptability + of her gift by presenting it as a surprise. But her secret is safe in your + keeping, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “I swear to it, madam.” Mr. O'Brien spoke mechanically. His hand was on + his chin: he was clearly musing upon some question that perplexed him. He + took a turn up and down the studio, and then said: + </p> + <p> + “Madam, it has just occurred to me that you, as a great artist——” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, sir,” interposed the blushing painteress. + </p> + <p> + “I will not take back a word, madam,” said the actor, holding up one + inexorable hand. “I say that surely so great an artist as you should + disdain to do the work of a mere copyist. Why should not you confer upon + me the honour of sitting to you for the miniature portrait?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir, that is the one favour which I meant to ask of you, if my + courage had not failed me.” + </p> + <p> + “Madam, you will confer immortality upon a simple man through that magic + wand which you wield.” He swept his hand with inimitable grace over the + mahl-stick which lay against the easel. “I am all impatient to begin my + sitting, Miss Read. Pray let me come to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Her ladyship comes to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall precede her ladyship. Name the hour, madam.” + </p> + <p> + Without the least demur Miss Read named an hour which could enable him to + be far away from the studio before Lady Susan's arrival. + </p> + <p> + And yet the next day Lady Susan entered the studio quite half an hour + before Mr. O'Brien had left it. Of course she was surprised. Had not Miss + Read received a letter, making her aware of the fact that she, Lady Susan, + would be forced, owing to circumstances over which she had no control, to + sit for her portrait an hour earlier than that of her appointment? + </p> + <p> + When Miss Read said she had received no such letter, Lady Susan said some + very severe things about her maid. Miss Read was greatly fluttered, but + she explained in as few words as possible how it was that Mr. O'Brien had + come forward in the cause of art, and was sitting for the miniature. Lady + Susan quickly got over her surprise. (Had Miss Read seen the letter which + her ladyship had received the previous evening from Mr. O'Brien she would + not have marvelled as she did at the rapidity with which her ladyship + recovered her self-possession.) Her ladyship was quite friendly with the + actor, and thanked him for his courtesy in offering to give up so much of + his time solely for the sake of increasing the value of her gift to her + father. + </p> + <p> + A few minutes later, while they were discussing some point in the design + of the picture, Miss Read was called out of the studio, and in a second + Lady Susan was in his arms. + </p> + <p> + “Fate is on our side, darling girl!” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + “I could not live without you, my charmer. But I was bold! I took my fate + in both hands when I wrote you that letter.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear one, 'twas the instinct of true love that made you guess the truth—that + I wanted the portrait because I loved the original. Oh, dear one, what + have I not suffered during the year that has parted us!” said Lady Susan, + with her head upon his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + The Irishman found it necessary to fall back upon the seductive tongue of + his country for words of endearment to bestow upon her. He called her + “Sheila,” “a cushla machree,” “mavourneen,” and also “aroon.” But when + Miss Read returned to the studio they were still discussing a purely + artistic point in connection with the portrait. + </p> + <p> + Of course now that O'Brien knew the secret of the miniature there was no + reason that Miss Read could see why he and Lady Susan should not meet at + her studio. To do her justice, neither could her ladyship perceive why + they should not come together at this place. They came every day, and + every day Lady Susan begged that Miss Read would allow her to rest in her + ante-room after the fatigue of the sitting. She rested in that room, and + in the company of O'Brien, until at last Miss Read became frightened; and + one day told her friend Lord Cathcart something of her fears. Lord + Cathcart, in his turn, told Lord Ilchester. His lordship was furious, but + cautious. + </p> + <p> + He wanted evidence of his daughter's infatuation. He got it the next + morning, for he insisted on seeing a letter which arrived for Lady Susan, + addressed in the handwriting of Lady Sarah. This letter turned out to be + from O'Brien, and Susan confessed that her father's surmise was correct—all + the letters which she had recently received in Lady Sarah's hand had come + from O'Brien. + </p> + <p> + Her father was foolish enough to grant her permission to say farewell to + her lover, and thus the two were allowed to come together once more. They + had a long talk, in the course of which O'Brien communicated to her a + secret of the theatre, which was that Mr. Garrick and Mr. Colman were + engaged in the construction of a comedy to be called <i>The Clandestine + Marriage</i>, and that Mr. Garrick told him that he, O'Brien, was to play + the part of the lover—the gentleman who had married the lady in + secret. + </p> + <p> + Lady Susan parted from her lover, not in tears, but in laughter. + </p> + <p> + The conclusion of the story is told by Horace Walpole, writing to Lord + Hertford. + </p> + <p> + “You will have heard of the sad misfortune that has happened to Lord + Ilchester by his daughter's marriage with O'Brien, the actor,” wrote + Walpole; and then went on to tell how Lady Susan had made her confession + to her father, vowing to have nothing more to do with her lover if she + were but permitted to bid him good-bye. “You will be amazed,” continued + Walpole, “even this was granted. The parting scene happened the beginning + of the week. On Friday she came of age, and on Saturday morning—instead + of being under lock and key in the country—walked downstairs, took + her footman, said she was going to breakfast with Lady Sarah, but would + call at Miss Read's; in the street pretended to recollect a particular cap + in which she was to be drawn, sent the footman back for it, whipped into a + hackney chair, was married at Covent Garden Church, and set out for Mr. + O'Brien's villa at Dunstable.” + </p> + <p> + Unlike many other alliances of a similar type, this marriage turned out a + happy one. O'Brien was induced to leave the stage and to depart with his + wife for America. He obtained a grant of some forty thousand acres in the + province of New York, and had he retained this property and taken the + right side during the Revolution his descendants would to-day be the + richest people in the world. A few years later he was given a good + appointment in Bermuda; and finally, in 1770, he was made Receiver-General + of the County of Dorset, and became popular as a country squire. He died + in 1815, and Lady Susan survived him by twelve years. + </p> + <p> + It was Lady Sarah who had made the imprudent marriage. She submitted to + the cruelties of her husband for fourteen years, and on her leaving his + roof he obtained a divorce. + </p> + <p> + In 1781, nineteen years after her first marriage, she wedded the Hon. + George Napier, and became the mother of three of the greatest Englishmen + of the nineteenth century. She lived until she was eighty. Her friend Lady + Susan followed her to the grave a year later, at the age of eighty-four. + </p> + <h3> + THE END + </h3> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 51964 ***</div> + </body> +</html> diff --git a/old/51964-0.txt b/old/51964-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0e349ac --- /dev/null +++ b/old/51964-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8633 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Georgian Pageant, by Frank Frankfort Moore + +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: A Georgian Pageant + +Author: Frank Frankfort Moore + +Illustrator: Various + +Release Date: May 2, 2016 [EBook #51964] +Last Updated: March 13, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GEORGIAN PAGEANT *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger from page images generously +provided by the Internet Archive + + + + + + + + + +A GEORGIAN PAGEANT + +By Frank Frankfort Moore + +With Illustrations + +London: Hutchinson & Co. Paternoster Row + +1908 + + + + +THE WRITER'S APOLOGY + +THE greater number of the papers in this series, dealing with some +well-known persons and incidents of the latter half of the Eighteenth +Century, are the practical result of a long conversation which the +writer had with the late Professor J. Churton Collins upon a very +memorable occasion. The writer ventured to contend that the existing +views respecting the personality of Oliver Goldsmith, of Henry Thrale, +of James Boswell, of Samuel Johnson, and of some others whom he named, +were grossly erroneous; as were also the prevalent notions respecting +such matters as Fanny Burney's attendance upon the Queen, the “romance” + of the Gunnings, and the “elopement” of Richard Brinsley Sheridan with +Elizabeth Linley. If Professor Churton Collins had not urged upon +the writer the possible interest attaching to the expression of some +opinions unbiassed by those conservators of the conventional who have +dealt with the same period, every one of them being as careful as +Indians on the warpath to tread in the footsteps of the man preceding +him, he would not have the courage to set forth his views in the form +they now assume. + +The non-controversial papers in the series may increase the light and +shade in the sketches of this very humble Georgian Pageant. The romance +of Lady Susan Fox-Strangways naturally took the shape of a “regulation” + story. The details are absolutely correct. + +On the very day the writer meant to keep the promise he made to +Professor Churton Collins, by sending him the completed proofs of this +book, the melancholy news of his death was published--an irreparable +loss to the Literature of English Criticism. + + + + +THE MONARCH OF THE PAGEANT + +On the morning of February 2nd, 1789, a lady was taking a solitary +stroll in Kew Gardens. She was a small person, of dainty features, with +a dimple on each side of her mouth that suggested a smile, varying, +perhaps out of compliment to the variations of the people with whom +she came in contact in her daily life, and shifting doubtless with +the movements of the folk of her fancy through her quick brain, but +remaining a smile all the time. There was about her a good deal of that +doll-like primness which is so pretty an accompaniment of a person of +small stature; but with this particular person it had--not quite, but +almost--the additional charm of dignity. One could at all times see that +she was making a highly intellectual attempt to be dignified; but that +she was not really dignified at heart. One could see that she had too +fine a sense of humour to be thoroughly dignified; and it may be that +some of her closest observers--her closest observers were her greatest +admirers--perceived now and again that she had a full sense of the +humour of her efforts in the direction of dignity. She had large eyes, +but being very short-sighted, she had a habit of half closing them when +looking at anything or any one further away from her than ten feet. But +somehow it was never suggested that the falling of her lids brought a +frown to her face. + +She was a quick walker at all times; but on this winter day the slowest +would have had little temptation to dawdle. The usual river mist was +thrusting up a quivering cold hand among the gaunt trees of the water +boundary of the Gardens, and here and there it flitted like a lean +spectre among the clipped evergreens of the shrubberies. There was a +maze of yew hedges, in the intricacies of which one mist-spectre had +clearly got lost; and the lady, who had some imagination, could see, +as she hurried past, the poor thing's wispy head and shoulders flitting +about among the baffling central walks. (A defective eyesight is +sometimes a good friend to the imagination.) And all the while she was +hurrying along the broad track she was looking with some measure of +uneasiness through her half-closed eyes down every tributary walk that +ran into the main one, and peering uneasily down every long artificial +vista that Sir Thomas Chambers, the Swedish knight and landscape +gardener, had planned, through the well-regulated boskage, with an +imitation Greek temple or Roman villa at the end. Approaching the +widening entrance to each of these, she went cautiously for a few +moments until she had assured herself on some point. Once she started +and took a step backward, but raising the lorgnette which she carried, +and satisfying herself that the group of men a hundred yards down one of +the vistas was composed wholly of gardeners, she resumed her stroll. + +Whatever slight apprehension may have been on her mind had vanished by +the time she had half completed the circuit made by the main walk. +She had reached one of the mounds which at that time were covered with +rhododendrons, and paused for a moment to see if there was sign of a +bud. A blackbird flew out from among the dense leafage, and she followed +it with her eyes as well as she could while she walked on, crossing the +narrow path that led to the seats on the mound. But at the moment of +crossing she was startled out of her senses by the sound of a shout from +some distance down this path--a loud shout followed by several others +rather less imperative. She gave a little exclamation of terror, raising +her muff to her face. Glancing in the direction whence the commotion +was coming, she gave another cry, seeing a tall man rush toward her with +outstretched arms--waving arms, frantically beckoning to her while he +shouted: + +“Miss Burney! Miss Burney!” + +She waited no longer. She turned and fled along the broad walk, making +for one of the many labyrinths not so very far away, and after her ran +the man, still shouting and gesticulating. She could hear the sound of +his feet and his voice behind her, as well as the cries of the other +men who were endeavouring to keep pace with him. On they came, and there +flashed through her active brain, in spite of the horrible apprehension +which thrilled through every nerve in her body, as she doubled back +upon the path which she had just traversed, the lines written by Dr. +Goldsmith and often quoted by her friend Dr. Johnson: + + A hare whom hounds and horns pursue, + + Pants to the place from whence at first he flew. + +She realised, all too painfully, the feelings of the poor hare at that +moment. She longed for a friendly earth to open up before her. They were +behind her--those wild huntsmen, one hoarsely yelling to her she knew +not what, the others, more shrill, shouting to her to stop. + +She was too frightened to think of obeying any of them. On she ran, +and it seemed that she was increasing the distance between her and her +panting pursuers, until one of them, having better wind, managed to +shoot ahead of the others, and to get close enough to say in a voice +that was not all gasps: + +“Madam, madam, the doctor begs you to stop!” She glanced over her +shoulder, still flying. + +“No, no, I cannot--I dare not!” she gasped. + +“Madam, you must--you must: it hurts the King to run!” cried the man. + +Then she stopped. The man, an ordinary attendant, stood in front of her. +He was more breathless than Miss Burney. + +“The doctor, madam,” he faltered, “'twas the doctor--he thought at first +that His Majesty was--was--but that was at first--now he says you must +please not lead His Majesty on--'tis all too much for him. Save us! How +you did go, madam! Who would ha' thought it?” + +She was paying no attention to him. Her eyes were fixed upon the group +of men who were recovering their breath while they walked slowly +toward her. The King was between his two physicians--not Physicians in +Ordinary; just the contrary--the two physicians who had been +summoned from Lincolnshire by some person in authority who possessed +intelligence--it should surely be easy to identify such a man at the +Court of George III--when, some months earlier, His Majesty gave signs +of losing his mental balance. They were the Willises, father and son, +the former a clergyman, who was therefore all the more fully qualified +to deal with a mind diseased--such a case as was defined as needing more +the divine than the physician. The King was between the father and his +son, but neither of them was exercising any ostentatious or officious +restraint upon him. One of them was smiling while he said some +reassuring words to the Royal patient; the other was endeavouring to +reassure little Miss Burney from a distance. + +And it seemed that the intentions of both were realised, for His Majesty +was smiling as benignly as was ever his wont, and little Miss Burney +took her courage in both hands and boldly advanced to meet her +Sovereign. (She had been for three years the Queen's “Dresser.”) But +when they met, after the King had cried, “Why did you run away from me, +Miss Burney?” it appeared that the process of reassuring the King had +been but too effectually accomplished, for before the lady could frame a +diplomatic reply to his inquiry, he had enwound her in his paternal arms +and kissed her heartily on the cheek, greatly to her confusion and (she +pretends) to her horror. The two doctors stood placidly by. They, poor +things, being quite unaccustomed to the ways of the immediate entourage +of the Court of George III--though they had doubtless heard something +of the practices that prevailed at the Courts of His Majesty's lamented +grandfather and great-grandfather--seemed under the impression that +there was nothing unusual in this form of salutation. For all they knew +it might be regarded as _de rigueur_ between a monarch and the ladies of +his consort's retinue. Even Dr. Willis, the divine, took a tolerant view +of the transaction. He, as Miss Burney afterwards recorded, actually +looked pleased! + +But, of course, the prim little lady herself was overwhelmed--yes, at +first; but soon her good sense came to her rescue. She seems to have +come with extraordinary rapidity to the conclusion that the King was +not so mad as she had believed him to be. Her train of reasoning was +instinctive, and therefore correct: the King had put his arms about her +and kissed her when he had the chance, therefore he could not be so mad +after all. + +In truth, however, Fanny Burney took the view of her treatment that any +sensible modest young woman would take of it. She knew that the King, +who had been separated for several months from the people whom he had +been daily in the habit of meeting, had shown in the most natural way +possible his delight at coming once more in contact with one of them. + +And undoubtedly the homely old gentleman was delighted beyond measure to +meet with some one belonging to his happy years--a pleasanter face than +that of Mrs. Schwellenberg, the dreadful creature who had made Fanny +Burney's life miserable. It is not conceivable that the King would have +kissed Mrs. Schwellenberg if he had come upon her suddenly as he had +upon Miss Burney. People prefer silver rather than iron links with a +happy past. He was so overjoyed, that the divine and the physician in +attendance soon became anxious. They could not know much of all that +he talked about to Miss Burney. They were in the position of strangers +suddenly introduced to a family circle, and understanding nothing of the +little homely secrets--homely topics upon which all the members of the +circle have laughed together for years. + +They possibly could not see much sense in his long and rambling chat--it +must have been largely in monologue--but they must have observed the +face of the lady who was listening to him, and known from the expression +which it wore that their patient was making himself intelligible. Only +now and again they thought it prudent to check his exuberance. They must +have been the most intelligent of men; and their names deserve to stand +high in the annals of their country. At a time when the scientific +treatment of the insane had not even begun to be formulated--when to +be mentally afflicted meant to be on a level with felons and to be +subjected to such repressive treatment as was afforded by the iron of +the fetters and the hiss of the whipcord--at a time when a lust for +office could make a statesman like Burke (a statesman who caused +multitudes to weep in sympathy with his harangue on the sufferings +of Marie Antoinette) refer to the King as having been “hurled by the +Almighty from his throne” (in order to give the Opposition a chance of +jumping into place and power over his prostrate body)--at such a time +as this Dr. Willis and his two sons undertook the treatment of the King, +and in the face of much opposition from the place-hunters in the Prince +of Wales's pack, succeeded in restoring their patient to the palace +which his happy nature had transformed into a home for every one +dwelling under its roof. + +They stood by for some time after the King had greeted Miss Burney; and +when he began to speak to her of topics that had a purely domestic +ring they showed their good taste, as well as their knowledge of the +peculiarities of their “case,” by moving away to a little distance, +signalling to their attendants to do the same. Their discrimination must +have been highly appreciated by the King. The poor restless mind had +long wanted such a good long talk with a sympathetic listener, who, he +knew, could understand every allusion that he might make to the past. +He yearned to talk and to hear of such things as some one living in a +distant land looks forward to finding in a letter from home. The _res +angusta domi_--that was what he was hungering for--the trivial things in +which he delighted--the confidences on simple matters--the sly everyday +jests, never acutely pointed even to the family circle, but absolutely +pointless to every one outside, yet sounding so delightfully witty when +repeated as a sign of a happy intimacy of the past! + +Little Miss Burney had never imagined a scene like that in which +she played an insignificant part at the moment, but one of enormous +importance for posterity. She had, a few years before, been placed upon +the porphyry pedestal which is reserved in England for the greatest +woman writer of the generation. Seated there quite complacently, without +reflecting upon the possibility of her pedestal becoming a trifle +rickety, she had clasped her novel _Evelina_ to her bosom, and received, +without her head being in the least turned, the adulation--respectful +in some cases, almost passionate in others--of the most notable men +and women in the most intellectual and artistic society in England. +Dr. Samuel Johnson, who was not disposed to overrate the merits of any +writer whom the world had praised, was kissing her hands, and Richard +Brinsley Sheridan was kissing her feet; Sir Joshua Reynolds was kissing +the hem of her garments; while Edmund Burke was weaving a tinsel crown +of rhetoric for her shapely head; but there were others equally great +at that time who seemed to think that only a nimbus could give the +appropriate finish to the little personage on the pedestal. The +marvellous story of her success has been often told. It is more easily +told than understood in the present day, the fact being that fashion in +fiction is the most ephemeral of all human caprices, and Fanny Burney +was essentially a fashion. She followed up the marvellous success of +_Evelina_, after an interval of four years, with the natural success of +_Cecilia_, and, after another four years, she retired from the brilliant +world into the obscurity of the palace--the palace wardrobe. She had +visited Mrs. Delany, and had been introduced (not presented) to the King +and Queen, and the office of Queen's Dresser--Keeper of the Robes was +the stately designation of a very humble service--becoming vacant, it +was offered to Fanny Burney and accepted by her, acting on the advice +of her father, who most certainly hoped that his own interests as a +musician, fully qualified to become leader of the Royal Band, would +be materially advanced when his daughter should become one of the +Household. + +Reams of indignation have been published from time to time in respect of +Dr. Burney's conduct in urging on his one brilliant daughter--the others +were not brilliant, only mothers--to accept a post the duties of which +could be discharged by any lady's maid with far more advantage to the +Royal Consort than could possibly result from the ministrations of Fanny +Burney. The world has been called on to bemoan the prudent indiscretion +of the father, who did not hesitate to fling his gifted daughter's pen +out of the window, so to speak, and thereby deprive the waiting world of +some such masterpiece as _Camilla_--the novel which she published five +years after her release from the burden of the Robes. There can be +no doubt that the feeling which prevailed among the circle of the +elect--the Reynoldses, the Burkes, and even the frigid Walpole--when +it became known that Miss Burney's health was breaking down under +the strain of her duties at the Court--she had about two hours' daily +attendance of the most ordinary nature upon the Queen--was on the border +of indignation. Every one affirmed that it was a disgrace for so lively +a genius to be kept at the duties of a lady's maid. It was like turning +the winner of the Oaks out to the plough. Edmund Burke, recalling his +early approbation of the intentions of Dr. Burney in regard to his +daughter, declared that he had never made so great a mistake in all +his life; and we know that he made a few. These excellent people had no +reason to speak otherwise than they did on this matter. All they knew +was that the pen of the novelist who had given them so much pleasure had +been (as they believed) idle for nearly nine years, five of which had +been passed at the Court. That reflection was quite enough to rouse +their indignation. But what can one say of the indignation on this point +of a writer who actually made the fact of his being engaged on a review +of the Diary of Fanny Burney--the incomparable Diary which she kept +during her five years at Court--an excuse for turning the vials of his +wrath upon her father, whose obstinacy gave her a chance of writing the +most interesting chapter--the most accurate chapter--of History that was +ever penned by man or woman? + +Macaulay wrote in all the fullness of his knowledge of what Fanny +Burney had written. He knew that for four years after she had published +_Cecilia_ her pen had been idle so far as fiction was concerned. He knew +that for five years after her release from the thraldom of the Queen's +closet she had published nothing; he himself felt it to be his duty to +point out the comparative worthlessness of _Camilla_, the novel which +she then gave to the world, not because she felt upon her the impulse of +a woman of genius, but simply because she found herself in great need +of some ready money. Macaulay does not disdain to go into the money +question, showing (he fancies) how Dr. Burney had by his obstinacy +deprived his gifted daughter of earning the large sum which she would +assuredly have obtained by the writing of a novel in the time that +she was compelled to devote to the Queen's _toilette_. He found it +convenient to ignore the fact that of the fourteen years that elapsed +between the publication of _Cecilia_ and that of _Camilla_ only five +were spent at Court. Surely any born novelist could, without running +a chance of imperilling a well-earned reputation by undue haste in the +dialogue or by scamping the descriptive passages, contrive by dint of +hard, but not over-hard, work to produce more than one complete romance +within a space of nine years. Many ladies who are not born novelists +have succeeded in surpassing this task without physical suffering. + +But even assuming that the author of _Evelina, Cecilia, and Camilla_ +lost not only time but money while she was at Court, how much money did +she lose? She received at least the equivalent of £2000 for her five +years' service, and she was granted a pension of £100 a year, which she +drew for forty-nine years; so that for her enforced seclusion she was +remunerated to the extent of close upon £7000! This sum represents more +than all Fanny Burney's literary works yielded to her from the joyous +youthful days of _Evelina_ down to the somewhat sordid middle age of +_Camilla_. + +But what has the world gained by the lamentable short-sightedness +attributed to Dr. Burney? How is one to estimate the value of that +incomparable Diary so admirably “written up” during her tedious five +years at Court? How many _Cecilias_, how many _Camillas_ would one not +give in exchange for a single year of that part of the Diary which deals +with the approach of the King's malady? In no work of fiction that ever +came from her pen did she ever show such power of observation, not only +of incident, but of character as well; nor is there apparent on any page +produced by her imagination such perfect artistic effects as appeal to a +reader on every page of this Diary of a disease. + +At the outset of her account of these dreadful days we are conscious +of the vague approach of a shadow--we feel as if we were led into the +darkened chamber of a haunted house. Our attendant pauses by our side, +listening for strange noises; she lays a hand upon our arm, as it were, +and speaks to us in a whisper. We feel that the dread Thing is coming. +The King is indisposed--he has not been quite in his usual health for +some time past; but of course nothing very alarming has been announced +by Sir George Barker, the Physician in Ordinary, although there is an +uncertainty as to His Majesty's complaint. But Miss Burney has seen the +faces of the people about her who have come more closely in contact with +the Sovereign; she has doubtless noticed the solemnity of some--the airs +of mystery, the head-shakings, and she is capable of drawing her own +conclusions. “Heaven preserve him!” she whispers in her Diary for +October 19th, 1788. She is very much with the Queen, and she perceives +that Her Majesty is extremely uneasy, though saying nothing. There is +great alarm during the night. Possibly some one has heard the delirious +voice of the King coming from his apartments in that tumbledown palace +of his at Kew. The fright is general, and every one is wondering what +the morning will bring forth. Hope comes with the light. The bulletin is +that the King was ill, but is now so very much better that his physician +believes the move to Windsor, to which the Court was looking forward, +may be taken. The move is made on the 25th, and then Miss Burney has a +chance meeting with the King that causes her to suspect the truth. He +talks to her with unnatural vehemence--unnatural volubility--and without +cessation for a long time; all is exaggerated, and his graciousness most +of all. She has never met with anything like this before, but having +heard of the delirium accompanying a high fever, she believes that His +Majesty is in the throes of a fever. + +The next day is Sunday, and she meets him again in one of the passages, +and she finds him rather more coherent in his talk, but still it is the +talk of a man in the delirium of a fever. It is all about himself--his +health--his dreadful sleeplessness. He keeps at it for half an hour +without making the slightest pause; and yet he manages to convey to +her an impression of his benevolence--his consideration for the people +around him--his hopes that he may not cause them any uneasiness. When he +leaves her she doubtless tells of the meeting to some of her friends in +the apartments where the equerries are accustomed to meet, and doubtless +there are more head-shakings and airs of mystery; but she records: +“Nobody speaks of his illness, nor what they think of it.” + +Apparently, too, no one felt it to be necessary to subject His Majesty +to any course of treatment, although, a few days later, he became +so weak that he, who at the beginning of the year thought nothing of +walking twelve miles at a stretch--more than his sons could do--hobbled +along like a gouty man. Gradually, very gradually, the horror +approaches; and nothing that has ever been done in fiction equals in +effect the simple record of all that Fanny Burney noticed from day to +day. Most touching of all her entries are those relating to the Queen. +“The Queen,” she writes, “is almost overpowered with some secret +terror. I am affected beyond all expression in her presence to see what +struggles she makes to support her serenity. To-day she gave up the +conflict when I was alone with her; and burst into a violent fit of +tears. It was very, very terrible to see!... something horrible seemed +impending... I was still wholly unsuspicious of the greatness of the +cause she had for dread. Illness, a breaking up of the constitution, the +payment of sudden infirmity and premature old age for the waste of +unguarded health and strength--these seemed to me the threats awaiting +her; and great and grievous enough, yet how short of the fact!”... + +At last the terrible truth was revealed. Miss Burney was dining with one +of the Queen's ladies; but there was little conversation between them. +It was clear that both had their suspicions of the nature of the dread +shadow that was hovering over the castle. They remained together, +waiting for the worst. “A stillness the most uncommon reigned over the +whole house. Nobody stirred; not a voice was heard; not a motion. I +could do nothing but watch, without knowing for what; there seemed a +strangeness in the house most extraordinary.” + +To talk of such passages as these as examples of literary art would be +ridiculous. They are transcripts from life itself made by some one with +a genius for observation, not merely for recording. Boswell had a genius +for recording; but his powers of observation were on a level with those +of a sheep. We know perfectly well what his treatment of the scenes +leading up to the tragedy of the King would have been. But Fanny Burney +had the artist's instinct for collecting only such incidents as heighten +the effect. + +When she is still sitting in the dim silence of that November evening +with her friend some one enters to whisper that there was to be no +playing of the after-dinner music in which the King usually took so much +pleasure. Later on the equerries come slowly into the room. There is +more whispering--more head-shaking. What was it all about? Had anything +happened? What had happened? No one wishes to be the first to speak. But +the suspense! The strain upon the nerves of the two ladies! At last it +can be borne no longer. The dreadful revelation is made. The King is a +madman! + +At dinner, the Prince of Wales being present, His Majesty had “broken +forth into positive delirium, which long had been menacing all who +saw him most closely; and the Queen was so overpowered as to fall into +violent hysterics. All the princesses were in misery, and the Prince of +Wales had burst into tears. No one knew what was to follow--no one could +conjecture the event.” Nothing could be more pathetic than the concern +of the King for his wife. His delusion is that she is the sufferer. When +Fanny Burney went to her room, where she was accustomed to await her +nightly summons to attend Her Majesty, she remained there alone for two +hours. At midnight she can stand the suspense no longer. She opens the +door and listens in the passage. Not a sound is to be heard. Not even +a servant crossed the stairs on the corridor off which her apartment +opened. After another hour's suspense a page knocks at her door with the +message that she is to go at once to her Royal mistress. + +“My poor Royal Mistress!” she writes. “Never can I forget her +countenance--pale, ghastly pale she looked... her whole frame was +disordered, yet she was still and quiet. And the poor King is dreadfully +uneasy about her. Nothing was the matter with himself, he affirmed, +except nervousness on her account. He insisted on having a bed made +up for himself in her dressing-room in order that he might be at hand +should she become worse through the night. He had given orders that Miss +Goldsworthy was to remain with her; but it seemed that he had no great +confidence in the vigilance of any one but himself, for some hours +after the Queen had retired he appeared before the eyes of the horrified +lady-in-waiting, at the door, bearing a lighted candle. He opened the +bed curtains and satisfied himself that his dread of her being carried +out of the palace was unfounded; but he did not leave the room for +another half-hour, and the terror of the scene completely overwhelmed +the unhappy lady.” + +Truly when this terror was walking by night Fanny Burney's stipend was +well earned. But worse was in store for her when it was decided that the +King should be removed to Kew Palace, which he detested and which was +certainly the most miserable of all the miserable dwelling-places of the +Royal Family. It seemed to be nobody's business to make any preparation +for the reception of the Queen and her entourage. The rooms were dirty +and unwarmed, and the corridors were freezing. And to the horrors of +this damp, unsavoury barrack was added Mrs. Schwellenberg, the German +she-dragon who had done her best to make Fanny Burney's life unendurable +during the previous three years. Formerly Fanny had dwelt upon the +ill-treatment she had received at the hands of this old harridan; +but now she only refers to her as an additional element of casual +discomfort. The odious creature is “so oppressed between her spasms and +the house's horrors, that the oppression she inflicted ought perhaps +to be pardoned. It was, however, difficult enough to bear,” she adds. +“Harshness, tyranny, dissension, and even insult seemed personified. I +cut short details upon this subject--they would but make you sick.” + +Truly little Miss Burney earned her wages at this time. The dilapidated +palace was only rendered habitable by the importation of a cartload of +sandbags, which were as strategically distributed for the exclusion of +the draughts as if they were the usual defensive supply of a siege. But +even this ingenious device failed to neutralise the Arctic rigours of +the place. The providing of carpets for some of the bare floors of the +bedrooms and passages was a startling innovation; but eventually it was +carried out. An occasional set of curtains also was smuggled into this +frozen fairy palace, and a sofa came now and again. + +But in spite of all these auxiliaries to luxury--in spite, too, of Mrs. +Schwellenberg's having locked herself into her room, forbidding any one +to disturb her--the dreariness and desolation of the December at Kew +must have caused Miss Burney to think with longing of the comforts of +her father's home in St. Martin's Street and of the congenial atmosphere +which she breathed during her numerous visits to the Thrales' solid +mansion at Streatham. + +[Illustration: 0035] + +The condition of the King was becoming worse, and early whispers of +the necessity for a Regency grew louder. It was understood that Mrs. +Fitzherbert would be made a duchess! Everybody outside the palace sought +to stand well in the estimation of the Prince of Wales, and Pitt was +pointed out as a traitor to his country because he did his best +to postpone the Comus orgy which every one knew would follow the +establishing of a Regency. The appointment of the Doctors Willis was +actually referred to as a shocking impiety, suggesting as it did a +wicked rebellion against the decree of the Almighty, Who, according to +Burke, had hurled the monarch from his throne. There were, however, some +who did not regard Mr. Burke as an infallible judge on such a point, and +no one was more indignant at the mouthings of the rhetorician than Miss +Burney. But it seemed as if the approach of the Regency could no longer +be retarded. The Willises were unable to certify to any improvement +in the condition of the King during the month of January, 1789. It was +really not until he had that chase after Fanny Burney in Kew Gardens +that a change for the better came about. + +Though she was greatly terrified by his affectionate salutation, +she could not but have been surprised at the sanity displayed in +the monologue that followed; for one of the first of his innumerable +questions revealed to her the fact that he was perfectly well aware of +what a trial to her patience was the odious Mrs. Schwellenberg. He asked +how she was getting on with Mrs. Schwellenberg, and he did so with a +laugh that showed her how well he appreciated her difficulties in this +direction in the past. Before she could say a word he was making light +of the Schwellenberg--adopting exactly the strain that he knew would be +most effective with Miss Burney. + +“Never mind her--never mind her! Don't be oppressed! I am your friend! +Don't let her cast you down--I know that you have a hard time of it--but +don't mind her!” + +The advice and the tone in which it was given--with a pleasant +laugh--did not seem very consistent with what she expected from a +madman. Fanny Burney appears up to that moment to have been under the +impression that the King and Queen had known nothing of the tyranny and +the insults to which she had been subjected by Mrs. Schwellenberg. But +now it was made plain to her that the eyes of the Royal couple had been +open all the time. If Macaulay had noticed the passage touching upon +this point he would have had still stronger grounds for his attack upon +their Majesties for their want of consideration for the tire-woman who +was supposed never to be tired. + +But how much more surprised must Fanny Burney have been when the King +went on to talk to her in the most cordially confidential way about her +father! It must have been another revelation to her when he showed how +fully he realised the ambitions of Dr. Burney. He asked her regarding +the progress of the _History of Music_, at which Dr. Burney had been +engaged for several years, and this gave him a chance of getting +upon his favourite topic, the music of Handel. But when he began to +illustrate some of his impressions on this fruitful theme by singing +over the choruses of an oratorio or two--perhaps such trifles as “All we +like Sheep,” or “Lift up your Heads,” or the “Hallelujah”--he must have +gone far toward neutralising the good opinion she had formed as to his +sanity. Fortunately the attendant doctors interposed at this point; but +the fact that the distinguished amateur suffered their adverse criticism +proves to posterity that the King was even more good-natured than he had +been painted by Miss Burney. + +On then he went to talk of the subject which must never have been far +from Dr. Burney's heart--the Mastership of the King's Band: “Your father +ought to have had the post, and not that little poor musician Parsons, +who was not fit for it,” he cried. “But Lord Salisbury used your father +very ill in that business, and so he did me! However, I have dashed +out his name, and I shall put your father's in--as soon as I get loose +again. What has your father got at last? Nothing but that poor thing at +Chelsea! Oh, fie! fie! But never mind! I will take care of him--I will +do it myself!” + +Could he have given the devoted daughter of Dr. Burney a more emphatic +proof of his complete recovery to sanity than this? Why, it would have +convinced Dr. Burney himself! + +Alas! although the King may have been very resolute at the moment--he +had just been making out a list of new officers of State, and was ready +to show her that the name of her father's enemy, Lord Salisbury, was not +to be found in it, and he assured her that in future he would rule with +a rod of iron--yet before he returned to his ordinary way of life he +must have mislaid his list, for poor Dr. Burney remained at his post of +organist of Chelsea Hospital. He never attained to the place which +he coveted and for which his daughter was sent to five years' Royal +servitude, and (incidentally) to achieve for herself that immortality +as a chronicler which would certainly never have been won by her as a +novelist. + +But the King did not confine his conversation to the one topic which he +knew was of greatest interest to her. He spoke of Mrs. Delany, who had +been the means of introducing Fanny to the Royal circle; and he referred +to the ill-treatment which he had received at the hands of one of his +pages; but this was the only passage that savoured of unkindness, and +the chronicler is unable to do more than hope that the conduct of the +pages was one of His Majesty's delusions. Then, with what seems to us to +be consummate adroitness, he put some questions to her which she could +not but answer. “They referred to information given to him in his +illness from various motives, but which he suspected to be false, and +which I knew he had reason to suspect,” Miss Burney writes. “Yet was it +most dangerous to set anything right, as I was not aware what might be +the views of their having been stated wrong. I was as discreet as I knew +how to be, and I hope I did no mischief: but this was the worst part of +the dialogue.” + +We can quite believe that it was, and considering that it was the part +of the dialogue which was most interesting to the King, we think that +Miss Burney was to be congratulated upon the tact she displayed in her +answers. She did not cause the King to be more perturbed than he was +when waxing indignant over the conduct of his pages; and there was no +need for Dr. Willis to interfere at this point, though he did a little +later on. Then submitting with the utmost docility to the control of +his excellent attendant, and with another exhortation not to pay any +attention to the whims of the Schwellenberg, the gracious gentleman +kissed her once more on the cheek and allowed her to take her departure. + +So ended this remarkable adventure in Kew Gardens. One can picture +Fanny Burney flying to tell the Queen all that had occurred--to repeat +everything that her discretion permitted her of the conversation; and +one has no difficulty in imagining the effect upon Queen Charlotte +of all that she narrated; but it seems rather hard that from Mrs. +Schwellenberg should have been withheld the excellent advice given by +the King to Miss Burney respecting the German virago. + +It would have been impossible either for Fanny Burney or the Queen +to come to any conclusion from all that happened except one that was +entirely satisfactory to both. King George III was undoubtedly on the +high road to recovery, and subsequent events confirmed this opinion. It +really seemed that the interview with the author of _Evelina_ marked the +turning-point in his malady at this time. Every day brought its record +of improvement, and within a fortnight the dreaded Regency Bill, which +had been sent up to the Lords, was abandoned. On March 1st there +were public thanksgivings in all the churches, followed by such an +illumination of London as had not been seen since the great fire. The +scene at Kew is admirably described by Miss Burney, who had written some +congratulatory lines to be offered by the Princess Amelia to the King. A +great “transparency” had been painted by the Queen's order, representing +the King, Providence, Health, and Britannia--a truly British +tableau--and when this was hung out and illuminated the little Princess +“went to lead her papa to the front window.” Then she dropped on her +knees and gave him the “copy of verses,” with the postscript: + + The little bearer begs a kiss + + From dear papa for bringing this. + +The “dear papa” took his dear child in his arms, and held her close to +him for some time. Nothing could have been more charmingly natural and +affecting. For such a picture of Royalty at home we are indebted to +Fanny Burney, and, face to face with it, we are selfish enough to feel +grateful to Dr. Burney for having given his daughter for five years +to discharge a humble duty to her Sovereign and an immortal one to her +fellow-countrymen, who have read her Diary and placed it on a shelf +between Pepys and de Gramont. + + + + +A COMEDY IN ST. MARTIN'S STREET + +DR BURNEY was giving a “command” party at his house in St. Martin's +Street, Leicester Fields--the house which Sir Isaac Newton did +once inhabit, and which was still crowned with the most celebrated +observatory in Europe. In the early years of his musical career he had +had a patron, Mr. Fulk Greville, who had done a great deal for him, +and in later days he had never quite forgotten this fact, although +Dr. Burney had climbed high on the professional as well as the social +ladder, and was better known in the world than Mr. Greville himself. He +had become quite intimate with many great persons and several curious +ones. It is uncertain whether Mr. Greville regarded Dr. Johnson as +belonging to the former or the latter class, but at any rate he had +heard a great deal about Dr. Johnson, and did not think that, provided +he took every reasonable precaution, any harm could come to himself from +meeting such a notability. He accordingly instructed Dr. Burney to bring +him and Johnson together, and Burney promised to do so. Before the day +for this meeting was fixed Mrs. Greville--who, by the way, was Fanny +Burney's godmother--had signified her intention of viewing the huge +person also, and of bringing her daughter, the exquisite Mrs. Crewe, to +attend the promised exhibition of genius in bulk. + +Of course Dr. Johnson was ready to lend himself to any plan that might +be devised to increase the circumference of his circle of admirers, and +besides, this Mr. Fulk Greville was a descendant of the friend of Sir +Philip Sidney, and had large possessions, as well as a magnificent +country seat, and altogether he would make a most desirable listener; so +he agreed to come to the party to be inspected by the Greville family. +Burney, however, wishing, as every responsible proprietor of a menagerie +should wish, to be on the safe side and exhibit his bear under the eye +and the controlling influence of his favourite keeper, invited Mr. and +Mrs. Thrale to the party. + +These were to be the “principals” in the comedy of this entertainment; +and for the subordinates he selected his married daughter and her +husband--both admirable musicians--Mr. Davenant, Mr. Seward, and a +certain Italian musician, a vocalist as well as a performer on the +violin and that new instrument which was at first called the fortepiano, +then the pianoforte, and later on simply the piano. This person's name +was Gabrielli Piozzi. + +Such were the harmonious elements which Dr. Burney proposed to bring +together for the gratification of Mr. Fulk Greville and his wife. Mr. +Greville was an amateur of some little capacity, and he had certainly at +one time been greatly interested in music. He had paid £300 to Burney's +master, the celebrated Dr. Arne, who composed in the masque of “Alfred” + the rousing anthem known as “Rule Britannia,” for the cancelling of +Burney's indentures as an apprentice to the “art of musick,” and had +taken the young man into his own house in a capacity which may best be +described as that of entertaining secretary. Dr. Burney may therefore +have thought in his wisdom that, should Johnson be in one of his +bearish moods and feel disinclined to exhibit his parts of speech to +Mr. Greville, the latter would be certain of entertainment from the +musicians. This showed forethought and a good working knowledge of Dr. +Johnson. But in spite of the second string to the musician's bow +the party was a fiasco--that is, from the standpoint of a social +entertainment; it included one incident, however, which made it the most +notable of the many of the Burney parties of which a record remains. + +And what records there are available to any one interested in the +entertainments given by Dr. Burney and his charming family at that +modest house of theirs, just round the corner from Sir Joshua Reynolds' +larger establishment in Leicester Fields! Hundreds of people who +contributed to make the second half of the eighteenth century the most +notable of any period so far as literature and the arts were concerned, +since the spacious days of Elizabeth, were accustomed to meet together +informally at this house, and to have their visits recorded for all ages +to muse upon. To that house came Garrick, not to exhibit his brilliance +as a talker before a crowd of admirers, but to entertain the children +of the household with the buffooning that never flagged, and that +never fell short of genius in any exhibition. He was the delight of the +schoolroom. Edmund Burke and his brother, both fond of conversation when +oratory was not available, were frequently here; Reynolds came with +many of his sitters, and found fresh faces for his canvas among his +fellow-guests; and with him came his maiden sister, feeling herself more +at home with the simple Burney circle than she ever did with the company +who assembled almost daily under her brother's roof. Nollekens, the +sculptor; Colman, the dramatist and theatre manager, who was obliged to +run away from London to escape the gibes which were flung at him from +every quarter when Goldsmith's _She Stoops to Conquer_, which he had +done his best to make a failure, became the greatest success of the +year; Cumberland, the embittered rival of Goldsmith, who was the person +who gave the solitary hiss during the first performance of the same +play, causing the timid author to say to the manager on entering the +playhouse, “What is that, sir--pray, what is that? Is it a hiss?” To +which Colman replied, “Psha! sir, what signifies a squib when we have +been sitting on a barrel of gunpowder all night?” + +These were among the notabilities; and the “curiosities” were quite as +numerous. The earliest of Arctic voyagers, Sir Constantine Phipps, who +later became Lord Mulgrave, put in an appearance at more than one of the +parties; and so did Omai, the “gentle savage” of the poet Cowper, who +was brought by Captain Cook from the South Seas in the ship on which +young Burney was an officer. The sisters, who, of course, idolised the +sailor, sat open-mouthed with wonder to hear their brother chatting away +to Omai in his native language. Upon another occasion came Bruce, the +Abyssinian traveller, who told the story of how steaks were cut from the +live ox when needed by the inhabitants of one region. He was immensely +tall, as were some of his stories; but though extremely dignified, he +did not object to a practical joke. Another person of great stature who +visited the Burneys was the notorious Count Orloff, the favourite of the +Empress Catherine of Russia; and from the letters of one of the young +people of the household one has no difficulty in perceiving with what +interest he was regarded by the girls, especially since the report +reached them that he had personally strangled his imperial master at the +instigation of his imperial mistress. + +These are but, a few names out of the many on the Burneys' visiting +list. Of course, as regards musical artists, the house was the +rendezvous of the greatest in London. While the opera-house in the +Haymarket was open there was a constant flow of brilliant vocalists to +these shores, and the young people had many opportunities of becoming +acquainted with the ignorance, the capriciousness, the affectations, and +the abilities which were to be found associated with the lyric stage in +the eighteenth century, as they are in the twentieth. Among the prime +donne who sang for the Burneys were the Agujari--a marvellous performer, +who got fifty pounds for every song she sang at the Pantheon--and her +great but uncertain rival, Gabrielli. The former, according to Mozart, +who may possibly be allowed to be something of a judge, had a vocal +range which was certainly never equalled by any singer before or after +his time. She won all hearts and a great deal of money during her visit +to London, and she left with the reputation of being the most marvellous +and most rapacious of Italians. Gabrielli seems to have tried to make up +by capriciousness what she lacked in expression. Her voice was, so far +as can be gathered from contemporary accounts, small and thin. But by +judiciously disappointing the public she became the most widely talked +of vocalist in the country. Then among the men were the simple and +gracious Pacchierotti--who undoubtedly became attached to Fanny +Burney--Rauzzini, and Piozzi. + +[Illustration: 0049] + +The Burneys' house was for years the centre of the highest intellectual +entertainment to be found in London, and the tact of the head of the +household, and the simple, natural manners of his daughters, usually +succeeded in preventing the intrusion of a single inharmonious note, in +spite of the fact that a Welsh harpist named Jones had once been among +the visitors. + +But upon the occasion of this “command” party, when Greville was to meet +Johnson, and the latter had dressed himself with that extreme care which +we suspect meant that he tied up his hose, and put on a wig the front of +which had not yet been burnt away by coming in contact with his lighted +candle, Burney's tact overreached itself. Mr. Greville may have felt +that the Thrales had no business to be of the party, or Johnson may have +gained the impression that Burney's old patron was anxious to play the +same part, in an honorary sort of way, in regard to himself. At any +rate, he refused to be drawn out to exhibit his conversational powers +to a supercilious visitor; and after a brief space of time he turned his +back upon every one and his face to the fire, and there he sat, greatly +to the discomfiture, no doubt, of his host. In a very short time a gloom +settled down upon the whole party. Mr. Thrale, stiff and reserved, was +not the man to pull things together. He sat mute on his chair, making no +advance toward Mr. Greville, and Mr. Greville had probably his chin in +the air, having come to the conclusion that Dr. Johnson's powers as a +conversationalist had been greatly overrated by rumour. + +It was when all hope of sociability had vanished that Dr. Burney, +who, when a church organist, may have had occasion to cover up the +shortcomings of the clergyman by a timely voluntary, begged Signor +Piozzi to oblige the company with a song. But Piozzi was a forlorn hope. +He was the last man in the world to save the situation. Had he been a +vocalist of the calibre of Pacchierotti he could have made no headway +against the funereal gloom that had settled down upon the party. + +Piozzi had a sweet and highly trained voice, though some years earlier +he had lost its best notes, and he sang with exquisite expression; +but when playing his own accompaniment, with his back turned to his +audience, he was prone to exaggerate the sentiment of the music until +sentiment became lost in an exuberance of sentimentality. + +This style of singing is not that to which any one would resort in order +to dissipate a sudden social gloom. As the singer went on the gloom +deepened. + +It was just at this moment that one of those ironic little imps that +lurk in wainscot nooks looking out for an opportunity to influence an +unconscious human being to an act which the little demon, seeing the +end of a scene of which mortals only see the beginning, regards with +sardonic glee, whispered something in the ear of Mrs. Thrale, and in +an instant, in obedience to its prompting, she had left her chair and +stolen behind the singer at the piano. Raising her hands and turning +up her eyes in imitation of Piozzi, she indulged in a piece of mimicry +which must have shocked every one in the room except the singer, who had +his back to her, and Dr. Johnson, who, besides being too short-sighted +to be able to see her, was gazing into the grate. + +No doubt the flippant little lady felt that a touch of farcical fun +was the very thing needed to make the party go with a snap; but such +flagrant bad taste as was involved in the transaction was more than +Dr. Burney could stand. Keeping his temper marvellously well in hand, +considering his provocation, he went gently behind the gesticulating +woman and put a stop to her fooling. Shaking his head, he whispered in a +“half joke whole earnest” way: + +“Because, madam, you have no ear yourself for music, will you destroy +the attention of all who, in that one point, are otherwise gifted?” + +Or words to that effect, it might be safe to add, for the phrases as +recorded in the diary of one of his daughters are a trifle too academic +for even Dr. Burney to have whispered on the spur of the moment. But he +certainly reproved the lady, and she took his remonstrance in good part, +and showed herself to be admirably appreciative of the exact pose to +assume in order to save the situation. She went demurely to her chair +and sat there stiffly, and with the affectation of a schoolgirl who has +been admonished for a fault and commanded to take a seat in silence and +apart from the rest of the class. It must be apparent to every one that +this was the precise attitude for her to strike in the circumstances, +and that she was able to perceive this in a rather embarrassing moment +shows that Mrs. Thrale was quite as clever as her friends made her out +to be. + +But regarding the incident itself, surely the phrase, “the irony of +fate,” was invented to describe it. A better illustration of the sport +of circumstance could not be devised, for in the course of time the +lively little lady, who had gone as far as any one could go in making a +mock of another, had fallen as deep in love with the man whom she mocked +as ever Juliet did with her Romeo. She found that she could not live +without him, and, sacrificing friends, position, and fortune, she threw +herself into his arms, and lived happy ever after. + +The conclusion of the first scene in this saturnine comedy which was +being enacted in the drawing-room in that house in St. Martin's Street, +was in perfect keeping with the _mise-en-scène_ constructed by Fate, +taking the rôle of Puck. It is admirably described in the diary of +Charlotte Burney. She wrote that Mr. Greville--whom she nicknamed “Mr. +Gruel”--assumed “his most supercilious air of distant superiority” and +“planted himself immovable as a noble statue upon the hearth, as if a +stranger to the whole set.” + +By this time Dr. Johnson must have had enough of the fire at which +he had been sitting, and we at once see how utterly hopeless were the +social relations at this miserable party when we hear that the men “were +so kind and considerate as to divert themselves by making a fire-screen +to the whole room.” But Dr. Johnson, having thoroughly warmed himself, +was now in a position to administer a rebuke to the less fortunate ones, +and, when nobody would have imagined that he had known the gentlemen +were in the room, he said that “if he was not ashamed he would keep the +fire from the ladies too.” + +“This reproof (for a reproof it certainly was, although given in a very +comical, dry way) was productive,” Charlotte adds, “of a scene as good +as a comedy, for Mr. Suard tumbled on to a sopha directly, Mr. Thrale on +to a chair, Mr. Davenant sneaked off the premises, seemingly in as great +a fright and as much confounded as if he had done any bad action, and +Mr. Gruel being left solus, was obliged to stalk off.” + +A more perfect description of the “curtain” to the first act of this, +“as good as a comedy,” could not be imagined. In every scene of this +memorable evening the mocking figure of an impish Fate can be discerned. +There was the tactful and urbane Dr. Burney anxious to gratify his old +patron by presenting to him the great Dr. Johnson, and at the same time +to show on what excellent terms he himself was with the family of the +wealthy brewer, Mr. Thrale. Incidentally he has caused Johnson to put +himself to the inconvenience of a clean shirt and a respectable wig; +and, like a thoughtful general, lest any of his plans should fall short +of fulfilment, he has invited an interesting vocalist to cover up the +retreat and make failure almost impossible! + +Dr. Burney could do wonders by the aid of his tact and urbanity, but he +is no match for Fate playing the part of Puck. Within an hour Johnson +has disappointed him and become grumpy--the old bear has found the buns +to be stale; Mr. Greville, the patron, is in a patronising mood, and +becomes stiff and aloof because Johnson, secure with his pension, +resents it; Mrs. Thrale, anxious to do her best for Burney, and at the +same time to show Mrs. Greville and her fine daughter how thoroughly +at home she is in the house and how delicate is her sense of humour, +strikes an appallingly false note, and only saves herself by a touch of +cleverness from appearing wholly ridiculous. This is pretty well for the +opening scenes, but the closing catastrophe is not long delayed. The men +huddle themselves together in stony silence; and they are reproved for +impoliteness by--whom? Dr. Johnson, the man who has studied boorishness +and advanced it to a place among the arts--the man who calls those who +differ from him dolts and fools and rascals--the man whose manners at +the dinner table are those of the sty and trough--the man who walks +about the streets ungartered and unclean--this is the man who has the +effrontery to rebuke for their rudeness such gentlemen as Mr. Fulk +Greville, Mr. Seward, and Mr. Thrale! Puck can go no further. Down comes +the curtain when one gentleman collapses upon a “sopha,” another into a +chair, a third sneaks off like a culprit, and the fourth stalks off with +an air of offended dignity! + +It might be thought that the imp of mischief who had assumed the control +of this evening's entertainment would be satisfied at the result of his +pranks so far. Nothing of the sort. He was only satisfied when he +had made a match between the insignificant figure who was playing the +musical accompaniment to his pranks and the lady who thought that his +presence in the room was only justifiable on the ground that he made an +excellent butt for her mockery! + +And the funniest part of the whole comedy is to be found in the fact +that the pair lived happy ever after! + +The extraordinary influence which Boswell has had upon almost every +student of the life of the latter half of the eighteenth century is +shown in a marked way by the general acceptance of his view--which it is +scarcely necessary to say was Johnson's view--of the second marriage of +Mrs. Thrale. We are treating Boswell much more fairly than he treated +Mrs. Thrale when we acknowledge at once that his opinion was shared by a +considerable number of the lady's friends, including Dr. Burney and +his family. They were all shocked when they heard that the widow of +the Southwark brewer had married the Italian musician, Signor Gabrielli +Piozzi. Even in the present day, when one might reasonably expect +that, the miserable pettiness of Boswell's character having been made +apparent, his judgment on most points would be received with a smile, he +is taken very seriously by a good many people. It has long ago been made +plain that Boswell was quite unscrupulous in his treatment of every one +that crossed his path or made an attempt to interfere with the aim of +his life, which was to become the biographer of Johnson. The instances +of his petty malevolence which have come to light within recent years +are innumerable. They show that the opinion which his contemporaries +formed of him was absolutely correct. We know that he was regarded as a +cur who was ever at Johnson's heels, and took the insults of the great +man with a fawning complacency that was pathetically canine. He was +daily called a cur. “Oh, no,” said Goldsmith, “he is not a cur, only a +burr; Tom Davies flung him at Johnson one day as a joke, and he stuck to +him ever since”--a cur, and an ape and a spy and a Branghton--the last +by Dr. Johnson himself in the presence of a large company, that included +the creator of the contemptible Mr. Branghton. (The incident was not, +however, recorded by Mr. Boswell himself.) But as the extraordinary +interest in his _Life of Johnson_ began to be acknowledged, the force of +contemporary opinion gradually dwindled away, until Boswell's verdicts +and Boswell's inferences found general acceptance; and even now +Goldsmith is regarded as an Irish _omadhaum_, because Boswell did his +best to make him out to be one, and Mrs. Thrale is thought to have +forfeited her claims to respect because she married Signor Piozzi. + +People forget the origin of Boswell's malevolence in both cases. He +detested Goldsmith because Goldsmith was a great writer, who was capable +of writing a great biography of Johnson, with whom he had been on the +most intimate terms long before Tom Davies flung his burr at Johnson; he +hated Baretti and recorded--at the sacrifice of Johnson's reputation for +humanity--Johnson's cynical belittling of him, because he feared that +Baretti would write _the_ biography; he was spiteful in regard to Mrs. +Thrale because she actually did write something biographical about +Johnson. + +The impudence of such a man as Boswell writing about “honest Dr. +Goldsmith” is only surpassed by his allusions to the second marriage of +Mrs. Thrale. He was a fellow-guest with Johnson at the Thrales' house in +1775, and he records something of a conversation which he says occurred +on the subject of a woman's marrying some one greatly beneath her +socially. “When I recapitulate the debate,” he says, “and recollect what +has since happened, I cannot but be struck in a manner that delicacy +forbids me to express! While I contended that she ought to be treated +with inflexible steadiness of displeasure, Mrs. Thrale was all for +mildness and forgiveness and, according to the vulgar phrase, making the +best of a bad bargain.” This was published after the second marriage. +What would be thought of a modern biographer who should borrow a little +of Boswell's “delicacy,” and refer to a similar incident in the same +style? + +In his own inimitable small way Boswell was for ever sneering at Mrs. +Thrale. Sometimes he did it with that scrupulous delicacy of which an +example has just been given; but he called her a liar more than once +with considerable indelicacy, and his readers will without much trouble +come to the conclusion that his indelicacy was preferable to his +delicacy--it certainly came more natural to him. He was small and mean +in all his ways, and never smaller or meaner than in his references to +Mrs. Thrale's second marriage. + +But, it must be repeated, he did not stand alone in regarding her union +with Piozzi as a _mésalliance_. Dr. Burney was shocked at the thought +that any respectable woman would so far forget herself as to marry +a musician, and his daughter Fanny wept remorseful tears when she +reflected that she had once been the friend of a lady who did not shrink +from marrying a foreigner and a Roman Catholic--more of the irony of +Fate, for Fanny Burney was herself guilty of the same indiscretion later +on: she made a happy marriage with a Roman Catholic foreigner, who +lived on her pension and her earnings. Dr. Johnson was brutal when +the conviction was forced upon him that he would no longer have an +opportunity of insulting a lady who had treated him with incredible +kindness, or the guests whom he met at her table. Upon one of the last +occasions of his dining at Mrs. Thrale's house at Streatham, a gentleman +present--an inoffensive Quaker--ventured to make a remark respecting the +accuracy with which the red-hot cannon-balls were fired at the Siege of +Gibraltar. Johnson listened for some time, and then with a cold sneer +said, “I would advise you, sir, never to relate this story again. You +really can scarce imagine how very poor a figure you make in the telling +of it.” Later on he took credit to himself for not quarrelling with his +victim when the latter chose to talk to his brother rather than to the +man who had insulted him. Yes, it can quite easily be understood that +Johnson should look on the marriage as a sad _mésalliance_, and possibly +it is fair to assume from the letter which he wrote to the lady that he +felt hurt when he heard that it was to take place. + +Mrs. Thrale wrote to tell him that she meant to marry Piozzi, and +received the following reply: + +“Madam,--If I interpret your letter right, you are ignominiously +married; if it is yet undone, let us once more talk together. If +you have abandoned your children and your religion, God forgive your +wickedness; if you have forfeited your fame and your country, may your +folly do no further mischief!” + +Possibly the lady may have gathered from the hint or two conveyed +to her, with Boswellian delicacy, in this letter, that Johnson was +displeased with her. At any rate, she replied, declining to continue the +correspondence. + +In her letter she summed up the situation exactly as a reasonable +person, acquainted with all the facts, and knowing something of the +first husband, would do. + +“The birth of my second husband is not meaner than that of my first,” + she wrote; “his sentiments are not meaner; his profession is not meaner; +and his superiority in what he professes acknowledged by all mankind. It +is want of fortune, then, that is ignominious; the character of the man +I have chosen has no other claim to such an epithet. The religion to +which he has always been a zealous adherent, will, I hope, teach him to +forgive insults he has not deserved; mine will, I hope, enable [me] +to bear them at once with dignity and patience. To hear that I have +forfeited my fame is indeed the greatest insult I ever yet received. My +fame is as unsullied as snow, or I should think it unworthy of him who +must henceforth protect it.” + +This brought the surly burly mass of offended dignity to his proper +level; but still he would not offer the lady who had been his +benefactress for twenty years an apology for his brutality. He had the +presumption to offer his advice instead--advice and the story (highly +appropriate from his point of view) of Mary Queen of Scots and the +Archbishop of St. Andrews. He advised her to remain in England--he would +not relinquish his room in her house and his place at her table without +a struggle--as her rank would be higher in England than in Italy, and +her fortune would be under her own eye. The latter suggestion was a +delicate insult to Piozzi. + +Mrs. Piozzi, as she then became, showed that she esteemed this piece of +presumption, under the guise of advice, at its true value. Immediately +after her marriage she went abroad with her husband, though eventually +she settled with him in England. + +Now, most modern readers will, we think, when they have become +acquainted with the whole story of Mrs. Thrale's life, arrive at the +conclusion that it was her first marriage that was the _mésalliance_, +not her second. + +[Illustration: 0065] + +Henry Thrale was a man of humble origin--a fact that revealed itself +almost daily in his life--and he was incapable of loving any one except +himself. He certainly never made a pretence of devotion to his wife, and +it is equally certain that, although she did more for him than any other +woman would have done, she never loved him. It might be going too far, +considering the diversity of temperament existing among womankind, to +assert that he was incapable of being loved by any woman; but beyond +a doubt he was not a lovable man. He was a stiff, dignified, morose, +uncongenial man, and he was a Member of Parliament into the bargain. +What could a pretty, lively, brilliant girl of good family see in such a +man as Thrale to make her love him? She never did love him--at times she +must have detested him. But she married him, and it was a lucky day +for him that she did so. Twice she saved him from bankruptcy, and three +times she induced his constituents, who thoroughly hated him, to return +him to Parliament as their representative. He never did anything in +Parliament, and he did little out of it that was worth remembering. It +is customary to make large allowances for a man of business who finds +that his wealth and a charming wife serve as a passport into what is +called society, though latterly such men do not stand in need of such +a favour being shown to them. But if a man betrays his ignorance of +certain social usages--not necessarily refinements--his friends excuse +him on the ground that he is a first-rate business man. Thrale, however, +was unworthy of such a title. He inherited a great scientific business, +but he showed himself so incapable of appreciating the methods by which +it had been built up, that he brought himself within a week or two of +absolute ruin by listening to a clumsy adventurer who advocated the +adoption of a system of adulteration of his beer that even a hundred +and fifty years ago would have brought him within sight of a criminal +prosecution. + +His literary wife, by her clever management, aided by the money of her +mother and of sundry of her own, not her husband's, friends, succeeded +in staving off the threatened disaster. But the pig-headed man did not +accept the lesson which one might imagine he would have learned. Seeing +the success that crowned other enterprises of the same character as his +own, he endeavoured to emulate this success, not by the legitimate way +of increasing his customers, but by the idiotic plan of over-production. +He had an idea that in the multiplying of the article which he had to +sell he was increasing his business. Once again he was helped from the +verge of ruin by his literary wife. + +He must have been a dreadful trial to her, and to a far-seeing manager +whom he had--a man named Perkins. Of course it was inevitable that the +force of character possessed by this Mr. Perkins must eventually prevail +against the dignified incompetence of the proprietor. The inevitable +happened, and the name of Perkins has for more than a hundred years been +bracketed with Barclay as a going concern, while the name of Thrale has +vanished for ever from “the Borough.” + +It was this Mr. Perkins who, when the brewery was within five minutes of +absolute disaster, displayed the tactics of a great general in the face +of an implacable enemy, and saved the property. As a reward for his +services his master authorised the presentation to him of the sum of +a hundred pounds. His master's wife, however, being a more generous +assessor of the value of the man's ability, ventured to present double +the sum, together with a silver tea-service for Mrs. Perkins; but she +did so in fear and trembling, failing to summon up sufficient courage to +acquaint her husband with her extravagance until further concealment was +impossible. She was so overjoyed at his sanctioning the increase that +she at once wrote to her friends acquainting them with this evidence of +his generosity. + +This episode was certainly the most stirring in the history of Thrale's +brewery. The Gordon rioters had been terrorising London for several +days, burning houses in every direction, as well as Newgate and another +prison, and looting street after street. They had already overthrown one +brewery, and they found the incident so fascinating that they marched +across the bridge to the Southwark concern, raising the cry that Thrale +was a Papist. The Thrales were at this time sojourning at Bath, and +were in an agony of suspense regarding their property. They had left +Dr. Johnson comfortably ensconced at their Streatham house in order that +they might learn in dignified language how things were going on. + +This is Johnson's thrilling account of the incident: + +“What has happened to your house you all know. The harm is only a few +butts of beer, and I think you may be sure that the danger is over. Pray +tell Mr. Thrale that I live here, and have no fruit, and if he does not +interpose am not likely to have much; but I think he might as well give +me a little as give all to the gardener.” + +There was a double catastrophe threatening, it would appear: the burning +of the brewery and the shortage in the supply of Dr. Johnson's peaches. + +This is how Mrs. Thrale describes the situation: + +“Nothing but the astonishing presence of mind shewed by Perkins in +amusing the mob, with meat and drink and huzzas, till Sir Philip +Jennings Clerke could get the troops, and pack up the counting-house, +bills, bonds etc. and carry them, which he did, to Chelsea College for +safety, could have saved us from actual undoing. The villains _had_ +broke in, and our brew-house would have blazed in ten minutes, when +a property of £150,000 would have been utterly lost, and its once +flourishing possessors quite undone.” + +It seems almost incredible that Johnson, living at Streatham as the +guardian of Mr. Thrale's interests, should require the lady to write to +him, begging him to thank Perkins for his heroism. But so it was. + +“Perkins has behaved like an Emperor,” she wrote, “and it is my earnest +wish and desire--command, if you please to call it so--that you will go +over to the brew-house and express _your_ sense of his good behaviour.” + +Mrs. Thrale was unreasonable. How could Johnson be expected to take any +action when he was deprived of his peaches? + +It will strike a good many modern readers of the account of this and +other transactions that if it was Perkins who saved the brewery for Mr. +Thrale, it was Mrs. Thrale who saved Perkins for the brewery. Possibly +it was her prompt gift of the silver plate to Mrs. Perkins that induced +this splendid manager to pocket the insult of the beggarly two hundred +guineas given to him by Mrs. Thrale--though this was double the amount +authorised by the “master.” Thrale never sufficiently valued the +services of Perkins. If he had had any gratitude in his composition he +would never have made Johnson one of his executors. What a trial it +must have been to the competent man of business to see Johnson lumbering +about the place with a pen behind his ear and an ink-pot suspended from +a button of his coat, getting in the way of everybody, and yet feeling +himself quite equal to any business emergency that might crop up. He +felt himself equal to anything--even to improve upon the auctioneer's +style in appraising the value of the whole concern. “Beyond the dreams +of avarice” remains as the sole classic phrase born beneath the shadow +of a brew-house. + +In the matter of the premium to Perkins, Thrale should have felt that he +had a treasure in his wife, to say nothing of all that she had done for +him upon another occasion, involving a terrible sacrifice. A quarrel had +broken out among the clerks at the brewery, which even the generalship +of Perkins was unable to mollify. Had Mrs. Thrale been an ordinary +woman she would not have jeopardised her own life and the life of her +child--her thirteenth--in her husband's interests. As it was, however, +she felt that the duty was imposed on her to settle the difficulties in +the counting-house, and she did so; but only after many sleepless nights +and the sacrifice of her child. “The men were reconciled,” she wrote, +“and my danger accelerated their reconcilement.” + +If Henry Thrale was deficient in the best characteristics of a business +man, his qualifications to shine socially can scarcely be regarded as +abundant. There were stories of his having been a gay dog in his youth, +but assuredly he and gaiety had long been strangers when he married his +wife, and upon no occasion afterwards could he be so described even by +the most indulgent of his friends; so that one rather inclines to the +belief that the dull dog must have been a dull puppy. We know what +his eldest daughter was, and we are convinced that the nature of that +priggish, dignified, and eminently disagreeable young lady was inherited +from her father. In Miss Thrale as a girl one feels that one is looking +at Henry Thrale as a boy. The only story that survives of those mythical +gay days with which he was accredited is that relating to the arrival +of the Gunnings to take London by storm. It was said that he and Murphy +thought to make these exquisite creatures the laughing-stock of the town +by introducing them to a vulgar hanger-on of Murphy, in the character of +a wealthy man of title and distinction. Possibly the two young men were +put up to play this disgraceful prank upon the Gunnings by some jealous +female associate; but however this may be, it not only failed most +ignominiously, it recoiled upon the jesters themselves, for Mrs. +Gunning, herself the sister of a nobleman, and destined to become the +mother-in-law of two dukes and the grandmother of two more--the parent +of a peeress in her own right, and an uncommonly shrewd Irishwoman into +the bargain--“smoaked,” as the slang of the period had it, the trick, +and her footman bundled the trio into the street. + +The story may be true; but as both the Gunning girls were married in +1752, and Thrale did not meet Hester Lynch Salusbury till 1763, it was +an old story then, and it was not remembered against him except by the +Duchess of Hamilton. If it represents the standard of his adolescent +wildness, we cannot but think that his youth was less meteoric than his +wife believed it to be. At any rate, we do not know much about his early +life, but we do know a great deal about his latter years, and it is +impossible to believe that his nature underwent a radical change within +a year or two of his marriage. + +He became the host of a large number of the most notable people of that +brilliant period at which he lived, and we perceive from the copious +accounts that survive of the Streatham gatherings that he was greatly +respected by all his visitors. He never said anything that was worth +recording, and he never did anything memorable beyond stopping Johnson +when the latter was becoming more than usually offensive to his +fellow-guests. He had no ear for music any more than Johnson had, and it +does not appear that he cared any more for painting, although he became +a splendid patron of Sir Joshua Reynolds, whom he commissioned to paint +several portraits of his distinguished friends for the decoration of the +library at Streatham. To his munificence in this respect the world owes +its finest portraits of Goldsmith, Burke, Garrick, the painter himself, +and Mrs. Thrale. + +The debt which we feel we owe to Thrale on this account is, however, +somewhat discounted when we learn that this enthusiastic patron of +art never paid the painter for his work. He left the pictures and the +obligation to pay for them as a legacy to his widow--and to pay for +them at more than the current rate for each into the bargain. Sir Joshua +Reynolds was as good a man of business as Thrale was an indifferent +one. At the time of his painting the portraits his price for a +three-quarter-length picture was £35, but in the course of a year or two +he felt it necessary to charge £50 for the same size, and this was the +price which the unfortunate widow had to pay for her husband's pose as +the munificent patron of the Arts. + +Men of the stamp of Thrale usually have no vices. + +They are highly respected. If they had a vice or two they would be +beloved. He had a solitary failing, but it did not win for him the +affection of any one: it was gluttony. For years of his life he gave +himself up to the coarsest form of indulgence. He was not a gourmet: he +did not aim at the refinements of the table or at those daintinesses of +cuisine which in the days of intemperate eaters and drinkers proved so +fatally fascinating to men of many virtues; no, his was the vice of the +trough. He ate for the sake of eating, unmindful of the nature of the +dish so long as it was plentiful enough to keep him employed for an hour +or two. + +The dinner-table of the famous Streatham Park must have been a spectacle +for some of the philosophers who sat round it. We know what was the food +that Johnson's soul loved, and we know how he was accustomed to partake +of it. He rioted in pork, and in veal baked with raisins, and when he +sat down to some such dainty he fed like a wild animal. He used his +fingers as though they were claws, tearing the flesh from the bone +in his teeth, and swallowing it not wholly without sound. It is not +surprising to learn that his exertions caused the veins in his forehead +to swell and the beads of perspiration to drop from his scholarly brow, +nor can any one who has survived this account of his muscular feat at +the dinner-table reasonably be amazed to hear that when so engaged, he +devoted himself to the work before him to the exclusion of every other +interest in life. He was oblivious of anything that was going on around +him. He was deaf to any remark made by a neighbour, and for himself +articulation was suspended. Doubtless the feeble folk on whom he had +been trampling in the drawing-room felt that his peculiarities of +feeding, though revolting to the squeamish, were not without a bright +side. They had a chance of making a remark at such intervals without +being gored--“gored,” it will be remembered, was the word employed by +Boswell in playful allusion to the effect of his argumentative powers. + +Thanks to the careful habits of some of the guests at this famous house +we know what fare was placed before the Gargantuan geniuses at one of +these dinners. Here is the _carte du jour_, “sufficient for twelve,” as +the cookery book says: + +“First course, soups at head and foot, removed by fish and a saddle +of mutton; second course, a fowl they call galena at head and a capon +larger than some of our Irish turkeys at foot; third course, four +different sorts of ices, pine-apple, grape, raspberry and a fourth; in +each remove there were fourteen dishes.” The world is indebted to an +Irish clergyman for these details. It will be seen that they did not +include much that could be sneered at as bordering on the kickshaw. +All was good solid English fare--just the sort to make the veins in a +gormandiser's forehead to swell and to induce the lethargy from which +Thrale suffered. He usually fell asleep after dinner; one day he failed +to awake, and he has not awakened since. + +Of course Johnson, being invariably in delicate health, was compelled to +put himself on an invalid's diet when at home. He gives us a sample of +a _diner maigre_ at Bolt Court. Feeling extremely ill, he wrote to Mrs. +Thrale that he could only take for dinner “skate, pudding, goose, and +green asparagus, and could have eaten more but was prudent.” He adds, +“Pray for me, dear Madam,”--by no means an unnecessary injunction, some +people will think, when they become aware of the details of the meal of +an invalid within a year or two of seventy. + +It was after one of the Streatham dinners that Mrs. Thrale ventured to +say a word or two in favour of Garrick's talent for light gay poetry, +and as a specimen repeated his song in _Florizel and Perdita_, and dwelt +with peculiar pleasure on this line: + +_I'd smile with the simple and dine with the poor._ + +This is Boswell's account of the matter, and he adds that Johnson cried, +“Nay, my dear lady, this will never do. Poor David! Smile with the +simple! What folly is that? And who would feed with the poor that can +help it? No, no; let me smile with the wise and feed with the rich!” + +Quite so; beyond a doubt Johnson spoke from the bottom of his +heart--nay, from a deeper depth still. + +Boswell was amazed to find that Garrick's “sensibility” as a writer was +irritated when he related the story to him, and in Mrs. Thrale's copy of +Johnson she made a note--“How odd to go and tell the man!” + +It was not at all odd that Boswell, being a professional tale-bearer and +mischief-maker, should tell the man; but it is odd that Garrick should +be irritated, the fact being that the sally was directed against a +line which he did not write. What Garrick did write was something very +different. The verse, which was misquoted, runs thus: + + That giant Ambition we never can dread; + + Our roofs are too low for so lofty a head; + + Content and sweet Cheerfulness open our door, + + They smile with the simple and feed with the poor. + +Such a muddle as was made of the whole thing can only be attributed to +the solidity of the Streatham fare. + +It was inevitable that Thrale could not continue over-eating himself +with impunity. He was warned more than once by his doctors that he was +killing himself, and yet when he had his first attack every one was +shocked. He recovered temporarily, and all his friends implored him to +cultivate moderation at the dinner-table. A touch of humour is to be +found among the details of the sordid story, in his wife's begging +Johnson--Johnson of the swollen forehead and the tokens of his +submission to the primeval curse in the eating of his bread--to try to +reason the unhappy man out of his dreadful vice. After wiping from the +front of his coat the remains of the eighth peach which he had eaten +before breakfast, or the dregs of his nineteenth cup of tea from +his waistcoat, Johnson may have felt equal to the duty. He certainly +remonstrated with Thrale. It was all to no purpose, however; he had a +second attack of apoplexy in the spring of 1780, and we hear that he was +copiously “blooded.” He recovered and went to Bath to recruit. It was +during this visit to Bath that the brewery was attacked by the Gordon +rioters. On returning to London he failed to induce his constituents to +remain faithful to him, and he continued eating voraciously for another +year. He began a week of gorging on April 1st, 1781. His wife implored +him to be more moderate, and Johnson said very wisely, “Sir, after the +denunciation of your physicians this morning, such eating is little +better than suicide.” It was all to no purpose. He survived the gorge +of Sunday and Monday, but that of Tuesday was too much for him. He was +found by his daughter on the floor in a fit of apoplexy, and died the +next morning. + +Such was the man whose memory was outraged by the marriage of his +widow with Piozzi, an Italian musician, whose ability was so highly +appreciated that his earnings, even when he had lost his voice, amounted +to £1200 a year, a sum equal to close upon £2500 of our money. And yet +Johnson had the effrontery to suggest in that letter of his to Mrs. +Thrale, which we have quoted, that she would do well to live in England, +so that her money might be under her own eye! + +The truth is that Mrs. Thrale was in embarrassed circumstances when she +married Signor Piozzi. Her worthy husband left her an annuity of £2000, +which was to be reduced by £800 in the event of her marrying again; and +also £500 for her immediate expenses. Johnson wrote to her, making +her acquainted with this fact, in order, it would seem, to allay any +unworthy suspicion which she might entertain as to the extent of her +husband's generosity. But his last will and testament cannot have wholly +dispersed the doubt into which her experience of Mr. Thrale may have +led her. For a man who had been making from £16,000 to £20,000 a year +to leave his wife only £2000 a year, with a possibility of its being +reduced to £1200, would not strike any one as being generous to a point +of recklessness. When, however, it is remembered that Thrale's wife +plucked him and his business from the verge of bankruptcy more than +once, that she bore him fourteen children, and that she lived with him +for eighteen years, all question as to the generosity of his bequest to +her vanishes. But when, in addition, it is remembered that the lady's +fortune at her marriage to Thrale amounted to £10,000, all of which he +pocketed, and that later on she brought him another £500 a year, that +it was her mother's money, added to the sum which she herself collected +personally, which saved the brewery from collapse--once again at +the sacrifice of her infant--all question even of common fairness +disappears, and the meanness of the man stands revealed. + +[Illustration: 0083] + +It was through the exertions and by the business capacity of his widow +that the brewery was sold for £135,000. She was the only one of the +trustees who knew anything definite about the value of the property, +and had she not been on the spot, that astute Mr. Perkins could have so +worked the concern that he might have been able to buy it in a year or +two for the value of the building materials. And yet when she became +involved in a lawsuit that involved the paying of £7000, she had +difficulty in persuading her daughters' trustees to advance her the +money, although the security of the mortgage which she offered for +the accommodation would have satisfied any bankers. A wretch named +Crutchley, who was one of this precious band of incompetents, on the +completion of the deed bade her thank her daughters for keeping her out +of gaol. It is not recorded that the lady replied, though she certainly +might have done so, and with truth on her side, that if her daughters +had kept her out of a gaol she had kept her daughters out of a +workhouse. She would have done much better to have gone to her friends +the Barclays, whose bank had a hundred and fifty years ago as high a +reputation for probity combined with liberality as the same concern +enjoys to-day. + +Enough of the business side of Mrs. Thrale's second marriage has +been revealed to make it plain that Piozzi was not influenced by any +mercenary motives in the transaction. On the contrary, it was he who +came to her assistance when she was in an extremity, and by the prompt +loan of £1000 extricated her from her embarrassment, and left the next +day for Italy, without having any hope of marrying her. + +Johnson's verdict on Piozzi, communicated to Miss Seward, was that +he was an ugly dog, without particular skill in his profession. +Unfortunately for this musical enthusiast and devotee to beauty, Miss +Seward met Piozzi on his return from Italy with his wife. (His excellent +control of her money had resulted in every penny of the mortgage being +paid, and of the lodgment of £1500 to their credit in the bank). And +Miss Seward, writing from Lichfield--more of the irony of Fate--in 1787, +affirmed that the great Lichfield man “did not tell me the truth when +he asserted that Piozzi was an ugly dog, without particular skill in +his profession. M. Piozzi is a handsome man in middle life, with +gentle, pleasing, unaffected manners, and with very eminent skill in his +profession. Though he has not a powerful or fine-toned voice, he sings +with transcending grace and expression. I was charmed with his perfect +expression on his instrument. Surely the finest sensibilities must +vibrate through his frame, since they breathe so sweetly through his +song.” From this verdict no person who was acquainted with Signor Piozzi +differed. Mrs. Thrale's marriage with Piozzi was as fortunate for her as +her first marriage was for Thrale. + + + + +A TRAGEDY IN THE HAYMARKET + +ABOUT half-past nine o'clock on the night of October 6th, 1769, a +tall, middle-aged gentleman named Joseph Baretti was walking up the +Hay-market. The street was probably as well lighted as any other in +London, and this is equivalent to saying that a foot passenger, by +keeping close to the windows of the shops and taking cross bearings of +the economically distributed oil lamps hung out at the corners of the +many lanes, might be able to avoid the deep channel of filth that slunk +along the margin of cobble stones. But just at this time the Haymarket +must have been especially well illuminated, for the Opera House was +in the act of discharging its audience, and quite a number of these +fashionable folk went home in their chairs, with link boys walking by +the side of the burly Irish chairmen, showing a flaring flame which left +behind it a long trail of suffocating smoke, and spluttered resin and +bitumen into the faces and upon the garments of all who were walking +within range of the illuminant. Then there was the little theatre higher +up the street, and its lamps were not yet extinguished; so that Mr. +Baretti may have felt that on the whole he was fortunate in the hour he +had chosen for his stroll to the coffee-house where he meant to sup. He +may have thought that he had a chance of coming across his friend Sir +Joshua Reynolds leaving one of the playhouses, and of being invited by +that hospitable gentleman to his house in Leicester Fields; or his still +more intimate friend Dr. Samuel Johnson, who would certainly insist on +carrying him off to the “Mitre,” unless the great man were accompanied +by that little Scotch person, James Boswell, who usually wanted him +all to himself, after he had given people a chance of seeing him in the +company of his distinguished friend, and envying him his position of +intimacy--the same position of intimacy that exists between a Duke and +his doormat. Mr. Baretti was too short-sighted to have any chance of +recognising Sir Joshua Reynolds unless he chanced to be standing under +the lamp in the portico of the playhouse, but he felt that he would have +no trouble in recognising Dr. Johnson. The latter had characteristics +that appealed to other senses than the sense of seeing, and made the act +of recognition easy enough to his intimates. + +Mr. Baretti, however, passed along the dispersing crowd, and was soon in +the dim regions of Panton Street, where pedestrians were few. But before +he had turned down this street he found his way barred by a couple of +half-drunken women. His infirmity of sight prevented his being aware of +their presence until he was almost in the arms of one of them, and +the very second that he made his sudden stop she made a change in the +details of the accident that seemed imminent and threw herself into his +arms with a yell. + +The good man was staggered for a moment, but, recovering himself, he +flung her off with an expressive word or two in the Italian tongue. She +went limply back and, being adroitly avoided by her companion, gave a +circular stagger or two and fell into the gutter with a screech. + +Baretti was hurrying on when out of the darkness of Panton Street a big +man sprang, followed quickly by two others. The first seized him by the +right arm with the oath of a bully, the others tried to trip him up, +shouting that he had killed a lady. Baretti was a powerful man and +decidedly tough. He struck at the fellow who had closed with him, and +used his feet against the attack of the others with considerable effect. +He managed to free his arm, but before he could draw his sword he +was pulled backward and would have fallen upon his head if he had not +clutched the coat of the man from whom he had freed himself. There was a +pause of a few seconds, filled up by the wild street yell of the women. +The most aggressive of the three men leapt upon the unfortunate Baretti, +but before their bodies met, gave a guttural shriek, then a groan. He +staggered past, his fingers tearing like talons at his ribs; he whirled +twice round and, gasping, fell on his knees, motionless only for a few +seconds; his hands dropped limply from his side, and he pitched forward +on his head into the gutter. + +Baretti was standing, awaiting a further attack, with a knife in his +hand, when he was seized by some of the crowd. He offered no resistance. +He seemed to be so amazed at finding himself alive as to be incapable of +taking any further action. + +“He has killed the man--stabbed him with a dagger to the very heart!” + was the cry that came from those of the crowd who were kneeling beside +the wretch in the gutter. + +“And a woman--he had slain a woman at the outset. Hold him fast. None of +us are safe this night. Have a care for the dagger, friends!” + +A sufficiency of advice was given by the excited onlookers to the men +who had encircled Baretti--one of them was clinging to him with his arms +clasped around his body--until two of the Haymarket watch hurried up, +striking right and left with their staves after the wholesome manner of +the period, and so making a way for their approach through the crowd. + +“'Tis more than a street brawl--a man has been slain--some say a woman +also,” a shopkeeper explained to them, having run bareheaded out of his +shop; his apprentice had just put up the last of the shutters. + +They had Baretti by the collar in a second, cautiously disarming him, +holding the weapon up to the nearest lamp. The blade was still wet with +blood. + +“A swinging matter this,” one of them remarked. “I can swear to the +blood. No dagger, but a knife. What man walks the streets at night with +a naked knife unless slaughter is his intent?” + +“Friends, I was attacked by three bullies, and I defended myself--that +is all,” said Baretti. He spoke English perfectly. + +“You will need to tell that to Sir John in the morning,” said one of +the watchmen. “You are apprehended in the King's name. Where is the poor +victim?” + +“There must be some of the crowd who saw how I was attacked,” said +Baretti. “They will testify that I acted in self-defence. Sirs, hear me +make an appeal to you. Out of your sense of justice--you will not see an +innocent man apprehended.” + +“The knife--who carries a bare knife in the streets unless with intent?” + said a man. + +“'Twas my fruit-knife. I never go abroad without it. I eat my fruit like +a Christian, not like a pig or an Englishman,” was the defence offered +by Baretti, who had now quite lost his temper and was speaking with his +accustomed bitterness. He usually sought to pass as an Englishman, +but he was now being arrested by the minions of the law as it was in +England. + +“Hear him! A pig of an Englishman. Those were his words! A foreign +hound. Frenchie, I'll be bound.” + +“A spy--most like a Papist. He has the hanging brow of a born Papist.” + +“He'll hang like a dog at Tyburn--he may be sure o' that.” + +“'Tis the mercy o' Heaven that the rascal was caught red-handed! Sirs, +this may be the beginning of a dreadful massacring plot against the +lives of honest and peaceful people.” + +The comments of a crowd of the period upon such an incident as the +stabbing of an Englishman by a foreigner in the streets of London can +easily be imagined. + +Even when Baretti was put into a hackney coach and driven off to Bow +Street the crowd doubtless remained talking in groups of the menace +to English freedom and true religion by the arrival of pestilent +foreigners, every man of them carrying a knife. It would be a sad +day for England when Jesuitical fruit-knives took the place of +good wholesome British bludgeons in the settlement of the ordinary +differences incidental to a Protestant people. + +It is certain that this was one of the comments of the disintegrating +crowd, and it is equally certain that Baretti commented pretty freely +to his custodians in the hackney coach upon the place occupied in +the comity of nations of that State, the social conditions of whose +metropolis made possible so gross a scandal as the arrest of a gentleman +and a scholar, solely by reason of his success in snatching his life out +of the talons of a ruffian and a bully. + +Mr. Baretti was a gentleman and a scholar whose name appears pretty +frequently in the annals of the eighteenth century, but seldom with any +great credit to himself. As a matter of fact, this dramatic episode of +the stabbing of the man in the Haymarket is the happiest with which +his name is associated. He made his most creditable appearance in the +chronicles of the period as the chief actor in this sordid drama. He +cuts a very poor figure indeed upon every other occasion when he appears +in the pages of his contemporaries, though they all meant to be kind to +him. + +He never could bear people to be kind to him, and certainly, so far as +he himself was concerned, it cannot be said that any blame attaches to +him for the persistence of his friends in this direction. He did all +that mortal man could do to discourage them, and if after the lapse of +a year or two he was still treated by some with cordiality or respect, +assuredly it was not owing to his display of any qualities that +justified their maintenance of such an attitude. + +Mr. Baretti was an eminently detestable scholar of many parts. He was as +detestable as he was learned--perhaps even more so. Learned men are +not invariably horrid, unless they are men of genius as well, and this +rarely happens. + +Baretti had no such excuse, though it must be acknowledged that his +capacity for being disagreeable almost amounted to genius. Such a +character as his is now and again met with in daily life. A man who +feels himself to be, in point of scholarly attainment, far above +the majority of men, and who sees inferiority occupying a place +of distinction while he remains neglected and, to his thinking, +unappreciated, is not an uncommon figure in learned or artistic circles. +Baretti was a disappointed man, and he showed himself to be such. He had +a grievance against the world for being constituted as it is. He had a +grievance against society. He had a grievance against his friends who +got on in the world. But the only people against whom he was really +malevolent were those who were signally and unaccountably kind to him. +He accepted their kindness, and then turned and rent them. + +Dr. Johnson met him when they were both working for the booksellers, +and when the great dictionary scheme was floated his co-operation was +welcomed. Johnson's success in life was largely due to his faculty for +discovering people who could be useful to him. It can easily be believed +that, knowing something of the scholarship of Baretti, he should +be delighted to avail himself of his help. Baretti had an intimate +knowledge of several languages and their literature; as a philologist +he was probably far superior to Johnson; and possibly Johnson knew this, +though he was doubtless too wise ever to acknowledge so much openly. +We do not hear that the relations between the two ever became strained +while the great work was in course of progress. Shortly after it was +completed Baretti returned to his native Italy, and began to reproach +Johnson for not writing to him more frequently. We have several examples +of the cheerfulness with which Johnson set about exculpating himself +from such reproaches. The letters which he wrote to him at Italy are +among the most natural that ever came from his pen. They are models of +the gossipy style which Johnson could assume without once deviating +from that dignity which so frequently became ponderous, suggesting the +dignity of the elephant rather than that of the lion. Walpole was +a master of the art of being gossipy without being dignified. But +Johnson's style was not flexible. We have not Baretti's letters +to Johnson, but the references made by the latter to some matters +communicated to him by his correspondent let us know something of how +Baretti was getting on in the land of his birth. He seems to have set +his heart upon obtaining some appointment in Italy, and his aspirations +included marriage. He was disappointed in both directions; and it would +be too much to expect that his temper was improved by these rebuffs. + +It may well be believed that he quarrelled his way through Italy. “I +have lately seen Mr. Stratico, Professor of Padua, who has told me +of your quarrel with an abbot of the Celestine Order, but had not the +particulars very ready in his memory,” Johnson wrote to him at Milan. +Any one who could quarrel with an abbot of the Celestine Order would, we +fancy, be _capable de tout_, like the prophet Habakkuk, according to the +witty Frenchman. One is not disposed to be hard upon Professor Stratico +for his shortness of memory in regard to this particular quarrel; the +strain of remembering the details of all the quarrels of Mr. Baretti +would be too great for any man. + +Of course, Dr. Johnson gave him some excellent advice. It seems that +poor Baretti had been at first so well received on his return to Italy +that he became sanguine of success in all his enterprises, and when they +miscarried he wrote very bitterly to Johnson, who replied as follows: + +“I am sorry for your disappointment, with which you seem more touched +than I should expect a man of your resolution and experience to +have been, did I not know that general truths are seldom applied to +particular occasions; and that the fallacy of our selflove extends +itself as wide as our interests or affections. Every man believes that +mistresses are unfaithful and patrons capricious; but he excepts his +own mistress and his own patron. We have all learned that greatness is +negligent and contemptuous, and that in Courts life is often languished +away in ungratified expectation; but he that approaches greatness or +glitters in a Court, imagines that destiny has at last exempted him from +the common lot.” + +It is doubtful if this excellent philosophy made the person to whom it +was addressed more amiable to his immediate entourage; nor is it likely +that he was soothed by the assurance that his “patron's weakness or +insensibility will finally do you little hurt, if he is not assisted by +your own passions.” + +“Of your love,” continued Johnson, “I know not the propriety; we can +estimate the power, but in love, as in every other passion of which hope +is the essence, we ought always to remember the uncertainty of events.” + He then hastens to add that “love and marriage are different states. +Those who are to suffer the evils together, and to suffer often for +the sake of one another, soon lose that tenderness of look, and that +benevolence of mind which arose from the participation of unmingled +pleasure and success in amusement.” + +The pleasant little cynical bark in the phrase “those that are to suffer +the evils together,” as if it referred to love and marriage, is, Malone +thinks, not Johnson's, but Baretti's. It is suggested that Johnson +really wrote “those that are to suffer the evils _of life_ together,” + and that Baretti in transcribing the letter for Boswell, purposely +omitted the words “_of life_.” It would be quite like Baretti to do +this; for he would thereby work off part of his spite against Johnson +for having given him the advice, and he would have had his own sneer +against “love and marriage,” the _fons et origo_ of his disappointment. + +But of Dr. Johnson's esteem for the attainments of Baretti there can be +no doubt. He thought that the book on Italy which he published on his +return to England was very entertaining, adding: “Sir, I know no man who +carries his head higher in conversation than Baretti. There are strong +powers in his mind. He has not, indeed, many hooks; but with what hooks +he has he grapples very forcibly.” + +[Illustration: 0099] + +It may seem rather strange after this that Baretti was never admitted to +the membership of the celebrated club. He was intimate with nearly +all the original members, but the truth remained that he was not what +Johnson called a clubbable man: he had too many hooks, not too few. + +Such was the man who was brought before Sir John Fielding, the +magistrate at Bow Street, on the morning after the tragedy, charged with +murder; and then it was that he found the value of the friendships which +he had formed in England. The first person to hasten to his side in his +extremity was Oliver Goldsmith, the man whom he had so frequently made +the object of his sarcasm, whose peculiarities he had mimicked, not in +the playful manner of Garrick or Foote, but in his own spiteful style, +with the grim humour of the disappointed man. Goldsmith it was who +opened his purse for him and got a coach for him when he was +remanded until the next day, riding by his side to the place of his +incarceration. Goldsmith was by his side when the question of bail was +discussed before Lord Mansfield. For some reason which does not require +any particular explanation, it was not thought that Goldsmith as a +bailsman would appeal irresistibly to the authorities, but the names +of Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Edmund Burke, Mr. David Garrick, and Mr. H. +Fitzherbert were submitted to Lord Mansfield, and immediately accepted. +An amusing anecdote was current regarding the few days of Baretti's +incarceration. One morning he was visited by a teacher of languages, +who begged a trifling favour of him. This was merely a letter of +recommendation to Baretti's pupils, so that the applicant might have +a chance of taking them over “when you are hanged, sir.” The fact that +this sympathetic visitor was allowed to depart without molestation makes +people doubt whether Baretti was so bad-tempered after all. He did not +assault the man. “You rascal!” he cried. “If I were not in my own room, +I would kick you downstairs directly.” + +The trial was fixed for October 20th at the Old Bailey, and a few days +before this date a number of the prisoner's friends met together to +consult as to the line which should be taken for his defence. It seems +that they were not all agreed on some points; this was only to be +expected, considering what an array of wisdom was brought together upon +the occasion of these consultations, and considering also the course +which was adopted by Dr. Johnson, who thought that the interests of the +prisoner would be advanced by getting up an academical discussion with +Burke. Johnson and Burke were notorious rivals in conversation in those +days when conversation was regarded as an art, and men and women seemed +to have plenty of leisure to talk together for the sake of talking, +and to argue together for the sake of argument, and to be rude to one +another for the sake of wit. Boswell was for ever extolling Johnson +at the expense of Burke; and indeed, so far as one can gather from his +pages, Johnson was the ruder man. + +The example that Boswell gives of his own readiness in making Goldsmith +“shut up” when he questioned Johnson's superiority to Burke in +discussion is one of the best instances of the little Scotsman's +incapacity to perceive the drift of an argument. “Is he like Burke who +winds into a subject like a serpent?” asked Goldsmith. + +“But” (said I) “Dr. Johnson is the Hercules that strangled serpents in +his cradle.” + +This repartee which Boswell gleefully records is about equal to the +reply made by one of the poets who was appealed to in the “Bab Ballads” + to say if he wrote “the lovely cracker mottoes my Elvira pulls at +supper.” It will be remembered that the poet whose name rhymes with +“supper” replied: + + “'A fool is bent upon a twig, but wise men dread a bandit,' + + Which” (the earnest inquirer said) “I felt was very wise, + + but I didn't understand it.” + +It was in regard to this consultation as to the best defence to be made +out for Baretti that Johnson admitted to have opposed Burke simply for +the sake of showing the rest of the company that he could get the better +of Burke in an argument. “Burke and I,” he said, “should have been of +one opinion if we had had no audience.” Such a confession! There was the +life of his friend Baretti trembling in the balance, and yet Johnson, +solely for the sake of “showing off,” opposed the wisdom and ingenuity +Burke exercised to save from the gallows a man whom Johnson professed to +admire! + +But if we are to believe Boswell, Johnson cared very little whether his +friend was hanged or not. As for Boswell himself, he always detested +Baretti, and is reported to have expressed the earnest hope that the +man would be hanged. However, the “consultations” went merrily on, and +doubtless contributed in some measure to a satisfactory solution of the +vexed question as to whether Johnson or Burke was the more brilliant +talker. They formed a tolerably valid excuse for the uncorking of +several bottles, and perhaps these friends of Baretti felt that even +though he should die, yet the exchange of wit in the course of these +happy evenings would live for ever in the memory of those present, so +that after all, let the worst come to the worst, Baretti should have +little cause for complaint. + +It is reported that the prisoner, upon the occasion of his receiving a +visit from Johnson and Burke, cried: “What need a man fear who holds +two such hands?” It may here be mentioned, however, that although it +was asserted that Johnson and Murphy were responsible for the line +of defence adopted at the trial, yet in after years Baretti was most +indignant that it should be suggested that credit should be given to +any one but himself for his defence; and he ridiculed the notion that +Johnson or Burke or Murphy or even Boswell--himself an aspirant to the +profession of law in which he subsequently displayed a conspicuous +lack of distinction--had anything to do with the instruction either of +solicitors or barristers on his behalf. + +At any rate, the “consultations” came to an end, and the friends of the +accused awaited the trial with exemplary patience. Mr. Boswell seems +suddenly to have become the most sympathetic of the friends; for three +days before the event he took a journey to Tyburn to witness the hanging +of several men at that place, and though it is known that the spectacle +of a hanging never lost its charm for him, yet it is generous to assume +that upon this occasion he went to Tyburn in order to qualify himself +more fully for sympathising with Baretti, should the defence assigned to +him break down. + +Another ardent sympathiser was Mr. Thomas Davies the bookseller, a +gentleman whose chief distinction in the eyes of his contemporaries +consisted--if we are to believe one of the wittiest of his +associates--in the fact that he had an exceedingly pretty wife; +but whose claim to the gratitude of coming generations lies in the +circumstance of his having introduced Boswell to Johnson. Tom Davies +was terribly cut up at the thought of the possibility of Baretti's being +sentenced to be hanged. Boswell, on the day before the trial, after +telling Johnson how he had witnessed the executions at Tyburn, and +expressing his surprise that none of the wretches seemed to think +anything of the matter, mentioned that Foote, the actor, had shown him +a letter which he had received from Tom Davies, and in which the writer +affirmed that he had not had a wink of sleep owing to his anxiety in +respect of “this sad affair of Baretti,” and begging Foote to suggest +some way by which he could be of service to the accused, adding that +should Mr. Foote be in need of anything in the pickle line, he could +strongly recommend him to an industrious young man who had lately set up +in that business. + +Strange to say, Johnson was not impressed with this marked evidence of +Mr. Davies' kind heart. + +“Ay, sir, here you have a specimen of human sympathy,” he cried. “A +friend hanged and a cucumber pickled! We know not whether Baretti or the +pickle man has kept Davies from sleep; nor does he know himself.” + +This was rather sweeping, but his dictum showed that he was rather a +poor analyser of human emotion. In the minds of the people of to-day who +read of Tom Davies' bad nights there is no manner of doubt whatever that +the sequence of his emotions was to be attributed to his intimacy with +the industrious young pickle maker. Tom had indulged rather too freely +in some of the specimens of his art presented to him by the pickler, and +the result was a melancholy night; and, being melancholy, he was led to +think of the most melancholy incident that had recently come under his +notice. When a man is full of mixed pickles he is liable to get a little +mixed, and so in the morning he attributed his miserable night to his +thoughts about Baretti, instead of knowing that his thoughts about +Baretti were the natural result of his miserable night. If he had been +acquainted with an industrious young onion merchant he might have passed +the night in tears. + +“As for his not sleeping,” said Dr. Johnson, “sir, Tom Davies is a very +great man--Tom has been on the stage, and knows how to do those things.” + +Boswell: “I have often blamed myself, sir, for not feeling for others as +sensibly as many say they do.” Johnson: “Sir, don't be duped by them any +more. You will find those very feeling people are not very ready to do +you good. They pay you by feeling.” Mr. Boswell thought that he would +do well to turn his friend from the subject under discussion, so he made +the apparently harmless remark that Foote had a great deal of humour and +that he had a singular talent of exhibiting character. But Johnson had +on him the mood not only of “the rugged Russian bear,” but also of “the +armed rhinoceros and the Hyrcan tiger.” + +“Sir, it is not a talent: it is a vice; it is what others abstain from,” + he growled. + +“Did not he think of exhibiting you, sir?” inquired the tactful Mr. +Boswell, though he knew all about Foote and Johnson long before. + +“Sir, fear restrained him,” said Johnson. “He knew I would have broken +his bones. I would have saved him the trouble of cutting off a leg: I +would not have left him a leg to cut off.” + +This brutal reference to the fact that Foote's recent accident had +compelled him to have a leg amputated should surely have suggested +to his inquisitor that he had probably been paying a visit to an +industrious young pickle maker without Tom Davies' recommendation, or +that he had partaken of too generous a helping of his favourite veal, +baked with plums, and so that he would do well to leave him alone for a +while. But no, Mr. Boswell was not to be denied. + +“Pray, sir, is not Foote an infidel?” he inquired. But as he himself +had been dining with Foote the previous day, and as he possessed no more +delicacy than a polecat, he could easily have put the question to Foote +himself. + +But Johnson would not even give the man credit for his infidelity. + +“I do not know, sir, that the fellow is an infidel,” he said; “but if he +is an infidel, he is an infidel as a dog is an infidel, that is to say, +he has never thought on the subject.” + +In another second he was talking of Buchanan, a poet, whom he praised, +and of Shakespeare, another poet, whom he condemned, winding up by +saying that there were some very fine things in Dr. Young's _Night +Thoughts_. But the most remarkable of his deliverances on this rather +memorable evening had reference to Baretti's fate. After declaring that +if one of his friends had just been hanged he would eat his dinner +every bit as heartily as if his friend were still alive.--“Why, there's +Baretti, who is to be tried for his life to-morrow,” he added; “friends +have risen up for him on every side; yet if he should be hanged, none of +them will eat a slice of plum pudding the less.” Happily the accuracy of +this tender-hearted scholar's prediction had no chance of being put to +the test. Baretti was tried and acquitted. + +Boswell gives only a few lines to an account of the trial, and fails +to mention that the prisoner declined the privilege of being tried by +a jury one half of whom should be foreigners. “It took place,” he said, +“at the awful Sessions House, emphatically called Justice Hall,” and he +affirms that “never did such a constellation of genius enlighten the Old +Bailey.” + +He mentions that Mr. Burke, Mr. Garrick, Mr. Beauclerk, and Dr. Johnson +gave evidence, the last-named being especially impressive, speaking in +a slow, deliberate, and distinct tone of voice. It seems strange +that Boswell, who was (nominally) a lawyer, when he wrote his life of +Johnson, should say nothing whatever respecting the line of defence +adopted by the friends of the prisoner upon this interesting occasion. +It might have been expected that he would dwell lovingly, as a lawyer +would certainly be pardoned for doing, upon the technical points +involved in the trial, even though he hated Baretti. For instance, it +would be interesting to learn why it was thought that the result of +the trial might mean the hanging of Baretti, when from the first it was +perfectly plain that he had acted in self-defence: not merely was he +protecting his purse, he had actually to fight for his life against an +acknowledged ruffian of the most contemptible type. In the present day +if a short-sighted man of letters--say Mr. Augustine Birrell--were to be +attacked in a dark street by three notorious scoundrels and to manage to +kill one of them by poking the ferrule end of an umbrella into his eye, +no one--not even a Conservative Attorney-General--would fancy that a +grand jury at the New Old Bailey would return a true bill against him +for the act, putting aside all question of his being found guilty and +sentenced to be hanged. And yet in Baretti's time swords were commonly +worn, and they were by no means toy weapons. Why should poor Tom Davies +have a sleepless night, owing (as he believed) to his apprehension that +his friend would be hanged in a day or two? Why was it necessary to +dazzle the “awful Sessions House” by such “a constellation of genius” as +had never before assembled in that “Hall of Justice”? + +Mr. Boswell might certainly have told us something of the actual scene +in the court, when he has devoted so much space to the ridiculous +dialogues between himself and Johnson, having more or less bearing upon +the case. The course he adopted is like laying a dinner-table with +four knives and forks and five wineglasses for every guest--in having a +constellation of genii in plush behind every chair, and then serving +a dinner of hashed mutton only. A great number of people believe that +whatever Boswell may have been, he was invariably accurate. But in this +case he does not even give a true account of the constellation of genius +to which he refers. He only says that Burke, Garrick, Beauclerk, +and Johnson were called as witnesses. He omits to say a word about +Goldsmith, who was something of a genius; or Reynolds, who was quite +a tolerable painter; or Fitzherbert, who had a wide reputation as a +politician; or Dr. Halifax, whose evidence carried certainly as much +weight as Johnson's. He does not even say a word respecting the evidence +which Johnson and the others were called on to give on behalf of +the prisoner at the bar. What is the good of telling us that the +constellation of genius had never been paralleled within the precincts +of the “emphatically called Justice Hall” if we are not made aware +of some of the flashes of their genius when they were put into the +witness-box? + +The truth is that Boswell had no sense of proportion any more than a +sense of the sublime and beautiful--or, for that matter, a sense of the +ridiculous. He was the Needy Knife Grinder--with an occasional axe of +his own--of the brilliant circle into which he crawled, holding on to +Johnson's skirts and half concealing himself beneath their capacious +flaps. He had constant stories suggested to him, but he failed to see +their possibilities. He was a knife grinder and nothing more; but at his +own trade he was admirable; he ground away patiently at his trivialities +respecting the man whom he never was within leagues of understanding, +and it is scarcely fair to reproach him for not throwing away his +grindstone, which he knew how to use, and taking to that of a diamond +cutter, which he was incapable of manipulating. But surely he might have +told us something more of the actual trial of Baretti instead of giving +us page after page leading up to the trial. + +From other sources we learn that what all the geniuses were called on to +testify to was the pacific character of Baretti, and this they were all +able to do in an emphatic manner. It would seem that it was assumed that +the prisoner, a short-sighted, middle-aged man of letters, was possessed +of all the dangerous qualities of a bloodthirsty brigand of his own +country--that he was a fierce and ungovernable desperado, who was in +the habit of prowling about the purlieus of the Haymarket to do to death +with a fruit-knife the peaceful citizens whom he might encounter. He was +a foreigner, and he had killed an Englishman with an outlandish weapon. +That seems to have been the reason there was for the apprehension, which +was very general in respect of the fate of Baretti, for it was upon +these points that his witnesses were most carefully examined. + +Goldsmith, Reynolds, and Garrick were very useful witnesses regarding +the knife. They affirmed that in carrying a fruit-knife the prisoner was +in no way departing from the recognised custom of his fellow-countrymen. +He, in common with them, was in the habit of eating a great deal of +fruit, so that the knife was a necessity with him. + +Johnson's evidence was as follows: + +“I have known Mr. Baretti a long time. He is a man of literature--a very +studious man--a man of great intelligence. He gets his living by study. +I have no reason to think he was ever disordered with liquor in his +life. A man that I have never known to be otherwise than peaceable and +a man that I take to be rather timorous. As to his eyesight, he does not +see me now, nor do I see him. I do not believe he would be capable of +assaulting anybody in the street without great provocation.” + +It cannot be denied that the reference to Baretti's imperfect sight told +upon the jury, and uttered as the words were by Johnson in his dignified +way, they could scarcely fail to produce a profound effect upon the +court. + +Baretti was acquitted, and no one could presume to refer to him for the +rest of his life except as a quiet, inoffensive, frugivorous gentleman, +since these were the qualities with which he was endowed by a +constellation of geniuses on their oath. He was acquitted by the jury; +but the judge thought it well to say a few words to him before allowing +him to leave the dock, and the drift of his discourse amounted to a +severe censure upon his impetuosity, and the expression of a hope that +the inconvenience to which he was put upon this occasion would act as a +warning to him in future. + +Really one could hardly imagine that in those days, when every week Mr. +Boswell had a chance of going to such an entertainment at Tyburn as he +had attended forty-eight hours before the opening of the Sessions, the +taking of the life of a human being was regarded with such horror. One +cannot help recalling the remark made by Walpole a few years later, +that, owing to the severity of the laws, England had been turned into +one vast shambles; nor can one quite forget the particulars of the case +which was quoted as having an intimate bearing upon this contention--the +case in which a young wife whose husband had been impressed to serve +in His Majesty's Fleet, and who had consequently been left without +any means of support, had stolen a piece of bread to feed her starving +children, and had been hanged at Tyburn for the crime. + +Reading the judge's censure of Baretti, who had, in preventing +a contemptible ruffian from killing him, decreased by a unit the +criminality of London, the only conclusion that one can come to is that +the courts of law were very jealous of their precious prerogative to +kill. Looking at the matter in this light, the bombastic phrase of +Boswell does not seem so ridiculous after all; the Old Bailey had +certainly good reason to be regarded as the “awful Sessions House.” But +we are not so fully convinced that it had any right to be referred to +as emphatically the Hall of Justice. In the Georgian Pageant the common +hangman played too conspicuous a part. + +But the unfortunate, if impetuous, Baretti left the court a free man, +and we cannot doubt that in the company of his friends who had stood by +him in his hour of trial he was a good deal harder upon the judge than +the judge had been upon him; and probably he was reproved in a grave and +dignified manner by Dr. Johnson, Sir Joshua Reynolds standing by with +his ear trumpet, fearful lest a single word of Johnson's wisdom should +escape him. Doubtless Mr. Garrick, the moment Johnson's back was turned, +gave an inimitable imitation of both Johnson and Baretti--perhaps of the +judge as well, and most likely the usher of the court. + +Later on, when the avaricious Reynolds had hastened back to his studio +in Leicester Fields to daub on canvas the figures of some of his sitters +at the extortionate price of thirty-five guineas for a three-quarter +length, he and Johnson put their heads together to devise what could be +done for Baretti. + +For about a year Baretti resumed his old way of living, working for the +booksellers and completing his volume of travel through Europe, by which +it is said he made £500. It would appear, however, that all his pupils +had transferred themselves to the enterprising gentleman who had +appealed to him at an inopportune moment for his recommendation, or to +some of his other brethren, for by the end of the year he was in needy +circumstances. Meantime he had been made by Sir Joshua Reynolds Honorary +Secretary for Foreign Correspondence to the Royal Academy, and then +Johnson recommended him to the husband of Mrs. Thrale as tutor to her +girls at Streatham. This was very kind to Baretti, but it was rather +hard on the Thrales. Apparently from the first day he went to Streatham +his attitude in regard to the Thrale family was one of spite and +malevolence; and there can be no doubt that Johnson bitterly regretted +his patronage of a man who seemed never to forgive any one who had done +him a good turn. + +The agreement made by him with the Thrales was that he should +practically be his own master, only residing at Streatham as a member of +the family with no fixed salary. He was as artful as an Irish cabman in +suggesting this “leave it to your honour” contract. He had heard on all +hands of the liberality of Mr. Thrale, and he knew that, in addition to +being provided with a luxurious home, he would receive presents from him +far in excess of what he could earn. He was extremely well treated for +the next three years, though he was for ever grumbling when he had +a moment's leisure from insulting the Thrales and their guests. Mrs. +Thrale said more in his favour than any one with whom he came in +contact. She wrote: “His lofty consciousness of his own superiority +which made him tenacious of every position, and drew him into a thousand +distresses, did not, I must own, ever disgust me, till he began to +exercise it against myself, and resolve to reign in our house by fairly +defying the mistress of it. Pride, however, though shocking enough, +is never despicable; but vanity, which he possessed too, in an eminent +degree, will sometimes make a man near sixty ridiculous.” + +Assuredly Mrs. Thrale “let him down” very gently. Dr. Thomas Campbell, +a clergyman from Ireland, gives us a glimpse of Baretti's bearing at +Streatham. It is clear that Baretti was anxious to impress him with the +nature of his position in the house. “He told me he had several families +both in town and country with whom he could go at any time and spend a +month; he is at this time on these terms at Mr. Thrale's, and he knows +how to keep his ground. Talking, as we were at tea, of the magnitude +of the beer vessels, he said there was one thing at Mr. Thrale's house +still more extraordinary--his wife. She gulped the pill very prettily. +So much for Baretti!” wrote the clergyman in a very illuminating account +of his visit to Streatham. + +But not only did Mrs. Thrale bear with this detestable person for nearly +two more years, but she and her husband took him with them and Johnson +to Paris, where they lived in a magnificent way, the Thrales paying for +everything. It was in a letter to Frank Levet, his domestic apothecary, +that Johnson, writing from Paris, said: “I ran a race in the rain this +day, and beat Baretti. Baretti is a fine fellow.” This is Johnson on +Baretti. Here is Baretti on Johnson; on a copy of the _Piozzi Letters_ +he wrote: “Johnson was often fond of saying silly things in strong +terms, and the silly madam”--meaning Mrs. Thrale--“never failed to echo +that beastly kind of wit.” + +It was not, however, until an Italian tour, projected by Mr. Thrale, was +postponed, that Baretti became quite unendurable. He had been presented +by Mr. Thrale with £100 within a few months, and on the abandonment of +the longer tour he received another £100 by way of compensation for the +satisfaction he had been compelled to forgo in showing his countrymen +the position to which he had attained in England. This was another act +of generosity which he could not forgive. He became sullen and more +cantankerous than ever, and neglected his duties in an intolerable way. +In fact, he treated Streatham as if it were an hotel, turning up to give +Miss Thrale a lesson at the most inconvenient hours, and then devoting +the most of his time to poisoning the girl's mind against her mother. +Upon one occasion he expressed the hope to her that if her mother died +Mr. Thrale would marry Miss Whitbred, who would, he said, be a pretty +companion for her, not tyrannical and overbearing as he affirmed her own +mother was! Truly a nice remark for a young lady's tutor to make to her +under her mother's roof. + +The fact was, however--we have Baretti's own confession for it--that he +had been led to believe that after being with the Thrales for a year or +two, an annuity would be settled on him by the wealthy brewer, and he +grew impatient at his services to the family not obtaining recognition +in this way. It is extremely unlikely that Johnson ever even so much as +hinted at this annuity, though Baretti says his expectations were due to +what Johnson had told him; but it is certain that he had so exalted an +opinion of himself, he believed that after a year or two of desultory +teaching he should receive a handsome pension. And there the old story +of the car-driver who left the nomination of the fare to “his honour's +honour” was repeated. Baretti one morning packed up his bag and left +Streatham without a word of farewell. + +Johnson's account of his departure and his comments thereupon are worth +notice. He wrote to Boswell: + +“Baretti went away from Thrales in some whimsical fit of disgust or +ill-nature without taking any leave. It is well if he finds in any other +place as good an habitation and as many conveniences.” + +On the whole it is likely that a good many of Baretti's friends felt +rather sorry than otherwise that the jury at the Old Bailey had taken +so merciful a view of his accident. If Johnson and Murphy were really +responsible for the line of defence which prevailed at the trial, one +can quite believe that the Thrales and a good many of their associates +bore them a secret grudge for their pains. + +In the year 1782 he was granted by the Government the pension which he +had failed to extort from the Thrales. It amounted to £80 per annum, +and we may take it for granted that he had nothing but the most copious +abuse for the Prime Minister who had only given him £80 when Sheridan +was receiving £200 and Johnson £300. He drew his pension for seven +years. + +Baretti's portrait, painted by Reynolds for the Streatham gallery, +fetched £31 10s., the smallest price of any in the whole collection, +on its dispersal, years after the principal actors in the scene in the +“awful Sessions House” had gone to another world. + + + + +THE FATAL GIFT + +WHEN Mr. Boswell had been snubbed, and very soundly snubbed too, by a +Duchess, one might fancy that his ambition was fully satisfied. But he +was possibly the most persevering of the order of _Pachydermata_ at +that time extant; and in the matter of snubs he had the appetite of a +leviathan. He was fired with the desire to be snubbed once more by Her +Grace--and he was. Without waiting to catch her eye, he raised his glass +and, bowing in her direction, said: + +“My Lady Duchess, I have the honour to drink Your Grace's good health.” + +The Duchess did not allow her conversation with Dr. Johnson to be +interrupted by so flagrant a piece of politeness; she continued chatting +quite pleasantly to the great man, ignoring the little one. That was how +she had got on in life; and, indeed, a better epitome of the whole art +of getting on in life could scarcely be compiled even by the cynical +nobleman who wrote letters to his son instructing him in this and other +forms of progress--including the Rake's. + +Mr. Boswell, who, as usual, is the pitiless narrator of the incident, +records his satisfaction at having attained to the distinction of a snub +from the beautiful creature at whose table he was sitting, and we are, +as usual, deeply indebted to him for giving us an illuminating glimpse +of the Duchess of whom at one time all England and the greater part of +Ireland were talking. He also mentions that Her Grace made use of an +idiom by which her Irish upbringing revealed itself. If we had not Mr. +Boswell's account of his visit to Inveraray to refer to we might be +tempted to believe that Horace Walpole deviated into accuracy when he +attributed to the Duchess of Argyll, as well as her sister, the Countess +of Coventry, the brogue of a bog-trotter. It was only by her employment +of an idiom common to the south and west of Ireland and a few other +parts of the kingdom, that Her Grace made him know that she had not been +educated in England, or for that matter in Scotland, where doubtless Mr. +Boswell fondly believed the purest English in the world was spoken. + +[Illustration: 0121] + +Mr. Boswell faithfully records--sometimes with glee and occasionally +with pride--many snubs which he received in the course of a lifetime of +great pertinacity, and some that he omitted to note, his contemporaries +were obliging enough to record; but on none did he reflect with more +satisfaction than that, or those, which he suffered in the presence of +the Duchess of Argyll. + +It happened during that memorable tour to the Hebrides to which he lured +Johnson in order to show his countrymen how great was his intimacy with +the man who traduced them once in his Dictionary and daily in his life. +It was like Boswell to expect that he would impress the Scottish nation +by leading Johnson to view their fine prospects--he certainly was never +foolish enough to hope to impress Johnson by introducing the Scottish +nation to him. In due time, however, the exploiter and the exploited +found themselves in the neighbourhood of Inveraray, the Duke of Argyll's +Castle, and the stronghold of the Clan Campbell. + +It chanced that the head of the great family was in residence at this +time, and Mr. Boswell hastened to apprise him of the fact that the great +Dr. Johnson was at hand. He called at the Castle very artfully shortly +after the dinner hour, when he believed the Duchess and her daughter +would have retired to a drawing-room. He was successful in finding the +Duke still at the dinner-table, the ladies having retired. In the course +of the interview the Duke said: “Mr. Boswell, won't you have some tea?” + and Mr. Boswell, feeling sure that the Duchess could not go very far in +insulting him when other people were present, followed his host into +the drawing-room. “The Duke,” he records, “announced my name, but the +Duchess, who was sitting with her daughter, Lady Betty Hamilton, and +some other ladies, took not the least notice of me. I should,” he +continues, “have been mortified at being thus coldly received by a lady +of whom I, with the rest of the world, have always entertained a very +high admiration, had I not been consoled by the obliging attention of +the Duke.” + +The Duke was, indeed, obliging enough to invite Johnson to dinner the +next day, and Mr. Boswell was included in the invitation. (So it is that +the nursery governess gets invited to the table in the great house +to which she is asked to bring the pretty children in her charge.) Of +course, Boswell belonged to a good family, and his father was a judge. +It was to a Duke of Argyll--not the one who was now so obliging--that +the Laird of Auchinleck brought his son, James Boswell, to be examined +in order to find out whether he should be put into the army or some +other profession. Still, he would never have been invited to Inveraray +at this time or any other unless he had had charge of Johnson. No one +was better aware of this fact than Boswell; but did he therefore decline +the invitation? Not he. Mr. Boswell saw an opportunity ahead of him. He +had more than once heard Johnson give an account of how he had behaved +when the King came upon him in the Royal Library; and probably he had +felt melancholy at the reflection that he himself had had no part or +lot in the incident. It was all Dr. Johnson and the King. But now he was +quick to perceive that when, in after years, people should speak with +bated breath of Dr. Johnson's visit to Inveraray they would be compelled +to say: “And Mr. Boswell, the son of auld Auchinleck, was there too.” + +He knew very well that there were good reasons why Mr. Boswell could +not hope to be a _persona grata_ to the Duchess of Argyll. In the great +Douglas lawsuit the issue of which was of considerable importance to the +Duke of Hamilton, the son of Her Grace, the Boswells were on the side of +the opposition, and had been very active on this side into the bargain. +James Boswell himself narrowly escaped being committed for contempt +of court for publishing a novel founded on the Douglas cause and +anticipating in an impudent way the finding of the judges. Had the +difference been directly with the Duke of Argyll some years earlier, no +doubt every man in the Clan Campbell would have sharpened his skene when +it became known that a friend of an opponent of the MacCallein More +was coming, and have awaited his approach with complacency; but now the +great chief tossed Boswell his invitation when he was asking Johnson, +and Boswell jumped at it as a terrier jumps for a biscuit, and he +accompanied his friend to the Castle. + +The picture which he paints of his second snubbing is done in his best +manner. “I was in fine spirits,” he wrote, “and though sensible that I +had the misfortune of not being in favour with the Duchess, I was not in +the least disconcerted, and offered Her Grace some of the dish which was +before me.” Later on he drank Her Grace's health, although, he adds, “I +knew it was the rule of modern high life not to drink to anybody.” Thus +he achieved the snub he sought; but he acknowledges that he thought +the Duchess rather too severe when she said: “I know nothing of Mr. +Boswell.” On reflection, however, he received “that kind of consolation +which a man would feel who is strangled by a silken cord.” + +It seems strange that no great painter has been inspired by the theme +and the scene. The days of “subject pictures” are, we are frequently +told, gone by. This may be so, generally speaking, but every one knows +that a “subject picture,” if its “subject” lends itself in any measure +to the advertising of an article of commerce, will find a ready +purchaser, so fine a perception of the aspirations of art--practical +art--exists in England, and even in Scotland, in the present day. + +Now, are not the elements of success apparent to any one of imagination +in this picture of the party sitting round the table in the great hall +of Inveraray--Dr. Johnson chatting to the beautiful Duchess and her +daughter at one side, the Duke looking uncomfortable at the other, when +he sees Mr. Boswell on his feet with his glass in his hand bowing toward +Her Grace? No doubt Her Grace had acquainted His Grace with the attitude +she meant to assume in regard to Mi. Boswell, so that he was not +astonished--only uncomfortable--when Mr. Boswell fished for his snub. +Surely arrangements could be made between the art patron and the artist +to paint a name and a certain brand upon the bottle--a bottle must, of +course, be on the table; but if this is thought too realistic the name +could easily be put on the decanter--from which Mr. Boswell has just +replenished his glass! Why, the figure of Dr. Johnson alone should +make the picture a success--i.e. susceptible of being reproduced as an +effective poster in four printings. “Sir,” said Dr. Johnson, “claret for +boys, port for men, but brandy for heroes.” Yes, but whose brandy? There +is a hint for a great modern art patron--a twentieth-century art patron +is a man who loves art for what he can make out of it. + +Dr. Johnson was unmistakably the honoured guest this day at Inveraray; +and perhaps, while the lovely Duchess hung upon his words of wisdom, his +memory may have gone back to a day when he was not so well known, and +yet by some accident found himself in a room with the then Duchess of +Argyll. Upon that occasion he had thought it due to himself to be rude +to the great lady, in response to some fancied remissness on her +part. He had nothing to complain of now. The Duchess with whom he +was conversing on terms of perfect equality--if Her Grace made any +distinction between them it was, we may rest assured, only in a way that +would be flattering to his learning--was at the head of the peerage for +beauty, and there was no woman in the kingdom more honoured than she had +been. He may have been among the crowds who hung about the Mall in St. +James's Park twenty-two years before, waiting patiently until the two +lovely Miss Gunnings should come forth from their house in Westminster +to take the air. The Duchess of Argyll was the younger of the two +sisters. + +The story of the capture of the town by the pair of young Irish girls +has been frequently told, and never without the word _romantic_ being +applied to it. But really there was very little that can be called +romantic in the story of their success. There is far more of this +element in many of the marriages affecting the peerage in these +unromantic days. There is real romance in the story of a young duke's +crossing the Atlantic with a single introduction, but that to the +daughter of a millionaire with whom he falls madly in love and whom he +marries as soon as the lawyers can make out the settlements. There is +real romance in the idyll of the young marquis who is fortunate +enough to win the affection of an ordinary chorus girl; and every year +witnesses such-like alliances--they used to be called _mésalliances_ +long ago. There have also been instances of the daughters of English +tradesmen marrying foreign nobles, whom they sometimes divorce as +satisfactorily as if they were the daughters of wealthy swindlers on +the other side of the Atlantic. In such cases there are portraits +and paragraphs in some of the newspapers, and then people forget that +anything unusual has happened. As a matter of fact, nothing unusual has +happened. + +In the romantic story of the Gunnings we have no elements of that +romance which takes the form of a _mésalliance_. Two girls, the +granddaughters of one viscount and the nieces of another, came to London +with their parents one year, and early the next married peers--the elder +an earl, the younger a duke. Like thousands of other girls, they had no +money; but, unlike hundreds of other girls who marry into the peerage, +they were exceptionally good-looking. + +Where is there an element of romance in all this? The girls wedded men +in their own station in life, and, considering their good looks, +they should have done very much better for themselves. The duke was a +wretched _roué_, notable for his excesses even in the days when excess +was not usually regarded as noteworthy. He had ruined his constitution +before he was twenty, and he remained enfeebled until, in a year or +two, he made her a widow. The earl was a conceited, ill-mannered prig--a +solemn, contentious, and self-opinionated person who was deservedly +disliked in the town as well as the country. + +Not a very brilliant marriage either of these. With the modern chorus +girl the earl is on his knees at one side, and the gas man on the other. +But with the Miss Gunnings it was either one peer or another. They were +connected on their mother's side with at least two families of nobility, +and on their father's side with the spiritual aristocracy of some +generations back: they were collateral descendants of the great Peter +Gunning, Chancellor of Oxford and Bishop of Ely, and he was able to +trace his lineage back to the time of Henry VIII. From a brother of this +great man was directly descended the father of the two girls and also +Sir Robert Gunning, Baronet, who held such a high post in the diplomatic +service as Minister Plenipotentiary to Berlin, and afterwards to St. +Petersburg. Members of such families might marry into the highest order +of the peerage without the alliance being criticised as “romantic.” The +girls did not do particularly well for themselves. They were by birth +entitled to the best, and by beauty to the best of the best. As it was, +the one only became the wife of a contemptible duke, the other of a +ridiculous earl. It may really be said that they threw themselves away. + +Of course, it was Walpole's gossip that is accountable for much of the +false impression which prevailed in respect of the Gunnings. From the +first he did his best to disparage them. He wrote to Mann that they were +penniless, and “scarce gentlewomen.” He could not ignore the fact that +their mother was the Honourable Bridget Gunning; but, without knowing +anything of the matter, he undertook to write about the “inferior tap” + on their father's side. In every letter that he wrote at this time he +tried to throw ridicule upon them, alluding to them as if they were +nothing better than the barefooted colleens of an Irish mountain-side +who had come to London to seek their fortunes. As usual, he made all +his letters interesting to his correspondents by introducing the latest +stories respecting them; he may not have invented all of these, but +some undoubtedly bear the Strawberry Hill mark, and we know that Walpole +never suppressed a good tale simply because it possessed no grain of +truth. + +Now, the true story of the Gunnings can be ascertained without +any reference to Walpole's correspondence. Both girls were born in +England--the elder, Maria, in 1731, the younger in 1732. When they were +still young their father, a member of the English Bar, inherited his +brother's Irish property. It had once been described as a “tidy estate,” + but it was now in a condition of great untidiness. In this respect it +did not differ materially from the great majority of estates in +Ireland. Ever since the last “settlement” the country had been in a +most unsettled condition, and no part of it was worse than the County +Roscommon, where Castle Coote, the residence of the Gunning family, was +situated. It might perhaps be going too far to say that the wilds of +Connaught were as bad as the wilds of Yorkshire at the same date, but +from all the information that can be gathered on the subject there does +not seem to have been very much to choose between Roscommon and the +wilder parts of Yorkshire. The peasantry were little better than +savages; the gentry were little worse. Few of the elements of civilized +life were to be found among the inhabitants. The nominal owners of the +land were content to receive tribute from their tenantry in the form of +the necessaries of life, for money as a standard of exchange was rarely +available. Even in the present day in many districts in the west +of Ireland cattle occupy the same place in the imagination of the +inhabitants as they do in Zululand. The Irish bride is bargained away +with so many cows; and for a man to say--as one did in the very county +of Roscommon the other day--that he never could see the difference of +two cows between one girl and another, may be reckoned somewhat cynical, +but it certainly is intelligible. + +But if rent was owing--and it usually was--and if it was not paid in the +form of geese, or eggs, or pork, or some other products of low farming +and laziness, it remained unpaid; for the landlord had no means of +enforcing his claims by any law except the law of the jungle. He might +muster his followers and plunder his debtors, and no doubt this system +of rent-collecting prevailed for several years after one of the many +“settlements” of the country had taken place, yet by intermarriage with +the natives, and a general assimilation to their condition of life by +the newcomers, these raids for rent became unpopular and impracticable. +The consequence was that the landlords--such as remained on their +estates--were living from hand to mouth. + +But if the fact that the King's writ failed to run in these parts was +of disadvantage to the landlords in one respect, it was of no +inconsiderable advantage to them in another; for it enabled them with +a light heart to contract debts in Dublin and in the chief towns. They +knew that the rascally process server, should he have the hardihood to +make any attempt to present them with the usual summons, would do so at +the risk of his life; and a knowledge of this fact made the “gentry” at +once reckless and lawless. The consequence was that Ireland was regarded +as no place for a man with any respect for his neighbours or for himself +to live in. It became the country of the agent and the squireen. + +It was to one of the worst parts of this country that John Gunning +brought his wife and four children--the eldest was eight years and +the youngest three months--and here he tried to support them off the +“estate.” He might possibly have succeeded if his aspirations had been +humble and his property unencumbered. It so happened, however, that his +father had been the parent of sixteen children, and the estate was still +charged with the maintenance of ten of these. Thus hampered, Mr. Gunning +and the Honourable Bridget Gunning were compelled to adopt the mode of +life of the other gentry who were too poor to live out of Ireland, +and they allowed the education of their family to become a minor +consideration to that of feeding them. + +Mr. Gunning and his wife were undoubtedly the originals of the type of +Irish lady and gentleman to be found in so many novels and plays of +the latter part of the eighteenth and the first half of the nineteenth +centuries. He was the original “heavy father” who, with the addition +of a ridiculous nondescript brogue, was so effectively dealt with by +numerous writers until Thackeray took him in hand; and Mrs. Gunning was +the first of the tradition of Irish mothers with daughters to dispose of +by the aid of grand manners and a great deal of contriving. True to this +tradition, which originated with them, the lady was certainly the +head of the household--a sorry household it must have been at Castle +Coote--during the ten years that elapsed before the migration to +England. + +Mr. Gunning was a fine figure of a gentleman, a handsome, loquacious +person with a great sense of his own dignity and an everlasting +consciousness of the necessity to maintain it at something approximate +to its proper level, and, like other persons of the same stamp, never +particularly successful in the means employed to effect this object. It +is doubtful if a loud conversational style, with repeated references to +the brilliant past of his family and predictions as to the still more +brilliant future that would have been achieved by its representative but +for the outrageous fortune that flung him into the bogs of Roscommon, +produced a more vivid impression upon his associates in Ireland than it +would be likely to do among a more credulous community. In Ireland he +resembled the young gentleman who went to educate the French, but was +discouraged at the outset when he found that even the children in the +streets spoke better French than he did. Mr. Gunning could teach the +Irish squireens nothing in the way of boasting; and he soon found that +they were capable of giving him some valuable instruction as to the +acquiring of creditors and their subsequent evasion. Whatever their +educational deficiencies may have been, it must be admitted that they +had mastered these arts. Much as he despised his ancestral home, he +found, after repeated visits to Dublin, that his heart was, after all, +in Castle Coote, and that, for avoiding arrest for debt, there was no +place like home. + +The Honourable Mrs. Gunning must have become dreadfully tired of this +florid person and of the constant worry incidental to the control of +such a household as his must have been. Her life must have been spent +contriving how the recurrent crises could be averted, and so long as she +was content to remain in the seclusion of the Irish village her efforts +were successful. We do not hear that the bailiffs ever got so far as the +hall door of their ramshackle mansion; there was a bog very handy, and +the holes which served as a rudimentary system of natural drainage +were both deep and dark. The topography of the district was notoriously +puzzling to the officers from the Dublin courts. + +But with all her success in this direction one maybe pretty sure that +her life must have been very burthensome to the Honourable Mrs. Gunning. +She had social ambitions, as befitted a daughter of a noble house, and +on this account she never allowed herself to sink to the level of the +wives of the squireens around her, who were quite content with the rude +jollity of an Irish household--with the “lashings and leavings” to eat, +and with the use of tumblers instead of wineglasses at table. She was +the daughter of a peer, and she never forgot this fact; and here it must +be mentioned that, however culpably she may have neglected the education +of her children in some respects, she took care that they avoided the +provincial brogue of their Irish neighbours. + +Perhaps it was because Walpole knew nothing of the tradition of the +English settlers in Ireland that he referred in his letters to various +correspondents to the appalling brogue of both the Gunning girls; or +perhaps he, as usual, aimed only at making his correspondence more +amusing by this device. But every one who knows something of the +“settlements” is aware of the fact that the new-comers had such a +contempt for the native way of pronouncing English that they were most +strenuous in their efforts to hand down to their children the tradition +of pronunciation which they brought into the country. They were not +always so successful as they wished to be; but within our own times the +aspiration after a pure “English accent” is so great that even in the +National Schools the teachers, the larger number of whom bear Celtic +names, have been most industrious both in getting rid of their native +brogue and in compelling their pupils to do the same; and yet it is +certain that people have been much more tolerant in this respect in +Ireland during the past half-century than they were a hundred years +earlier. + +Of course, a scientific analysis of the pronunciation of the English +language by, say, a native of the wilds of Yorkshire and by a native of +the wilds of Connemara would reveal the fact that fewer corruptions of +the speech are habitual to the latter than to the former, the “brogue” + being far less corrupt than the “burr.” It was not enough for the +settlers, however, that their children should speak English in Ireland +more correctly than their forefathers did in England; they insisted on +the maintenance of the English tradition of pronunciation, erroneous +though it might be. So that the suggestion that the daughters of the +Gunning family, who had never heard English spoken with the brogue of +the native Irish until they were eight or nine years of age, spoke the +tongue of the stage Irish peasant would seem quite ridiculous to any +one who had given even the smallest amount of study to the conditions +of speech prevailing in Ireland even in the present tolerant age, +when employment is not denied to any one speaking with the broadest of +brogues. Some years ago such an applicant would have had no chance of +a “billet”--unless, in a literal sense, to hew, with the alternative of +the drawing of water. + +The truth, then, is that the Gunning girls had practically neither more +nor less of that form of education to be acquired from the study of +books or “lessons” than the average young woman of their own day who had +been “neglected.” Between the years 1750 and 1800 there were in England +hundreds of young ladies who were as highly educated as a junior-grade +lady clerk in the Post Office Department is to-day; but there were +also thousands who were as illiterate as the Gunnings without any one +thinking that it mattered much one way or another. + +[Illustration: 0139] + +And it really did not matter much that Maria Gunning spelt as vaguely as +did Shakespere, or Shakspere, or Shakespeare, or Shakspear, or whatever +he chose to write himself at the moment. Correctness of orthography is +absolutely necessary for any young lady who wishes to be a success in +the Postal Department, but Miss Gunning possessed some qualifications of +infinitely greater importance in the estimation of the world. She was of +good family and she was beautiful exceedingly. Moreover, she possessed +the supreme grace of naturalness--the supreme grace and that which +includes all other graces, which, like butterflies, hover over +womankind, but seldom descend in a bevy upon any one of the race. She +was as natural as a lily flower, and for the same reason. To be natural +il came to her by Nature, and that was how she won the admiration of +more people than the beauty of Helen of Troy brought to their death. She +was not wise. But had she been wise she would never have left Ireland. +She would have known that obscurity is the best friend that any young +woman so beautiful as she was could have. She would have remained in +Roscommon, and she would have been one of those women who are happy +because they have no story. But, of course, had she been wise she would +not have been natural, and so there her beauty goes by the board in a +moment. + +The Honourable Mrs. Gunning could not have been startled when +the knowledge came to her that she was the mother of two girls of +exceptional beauty. The same knowledge comes to every mother of two +girls in the world, though this knowledge is sometimes withheld from +the rest of the world; but even then the mother's faith is not +shaken--except in regard to the eyesight of the rest of the world. +Doubtless Mrs. Gunning thought much better of Ireland when she found +that her judgment on the beauty of her daughters was shared by all the +people who saw the girls. From the daily exclamation of wonder--the +exaggerated expressions of appreciation uttered by a fervent +peasantry--when the girls were seen in their own kitchen or on the +roadside, the mother's ambition must have received a fresh stimulus. And +given an ambitious mother, whose life has been one of contriving to do +things that seem out of her power to accomplish, the achievement of +her object is only a matter of time--provided that the father does not +become an obstruction. Mrs. Gunning was not extravagant in her longings. +Her Delectable Mountains were those which surround the City of Dublin. +Her social ambitions did not extend beyond “The Castle.” + +When the eldest of her three daughters was scarcely nineteen the +aggregation of savings and credit--the latter predominant--seemed +sufficient to justify the expedition. A house was taken in a fashionable +street, close to the most splendid Mall in Europe, and furnished by some +credulous tradesmen, and the social campaign was begun by a parade of +the two girls and their mother. Alas! the young beauties attracted +only too much attention. The inquiries as to their style and title were +unfortunately not limited. In Dublin for generations the tradespeople +have been accustomed to take an intelligent and quite intelligible +interest in the aristocracy and beauty dwelling in their midst; and it +took only a few days for the report to go round that the exquisite young +ladies were the daughters of Mr. John Gunning, of Castle Coote. + +This information meant much more to some of the least desirable of +the inquirers than it did to the wealthy and well connected of the +population; and among the least desirable of all were some tradesmen who +for years had had decrees waiting to be executed against Mr. Gunning at +a more convenient place for such services than Castle Coote. The result +was that within a week the beauty of his daughters had made such a stir +in Dublin that bailiffs were in the house and Mr. Gunning was out of it. + +It is at this point in the history that the Troubadour unslings his +lute, feeling the potentialities of Romance in the air; and, given the +potentialities of Romance and the wandering minstrel, one may be sure +that the atmosphere will resound with Romance. We are told on such high +authority as is regarded quite satisfactory (by the Troubadour), that +the weeping of the mother and the beautiful girls under the coarse stare +of the bailiffs attracted the attention of a charming and sympathetic +young actress who was taking the air in the street, and that, as might +only be expected, she hastened to enter the house to offer consolation +to those who were in trouble--this being unquestionably the mission +which is most congenial to the spirit of the _soubrette_. On being at +once informed of all by the communicative mother--the Troubadour is not +such a fool as to lay down his lute to inquire if it was likely that a +lady who possessed her full share of Irish pride would open her heart +to a stranger and an actress--the young visitor showed her sympathy by +laying herself open to prosecution and imprisonment through helping in +a scheme to make away with all the valuables she could lay her hands on. +But she went still further, and invited the young ladies to stay at her +house so long as it suited them to do so. + +We are told that this young actress was George Ann Bellamy, but the +information comes from no better source than George Ann Bellamy herself, +and the statements of this young person, made when she was no longer +young or reputable, do not carry conviction to all hearers. Romance, +however, like youth, will not be denied, though the accuracy of an +actress may, and people have always been pleased to believe that Miss +Bellamy and Mr. Thomas Sheridan, the much-harassed lessee of the Smock +Alley Theatre in Dublin, were the means of obtaining for the Honourable +Mrs. Gunning and her daughters the invitation to the ball at the Castle +which resulted in the recognition of the girls' beauty by the great +world of fashion. The suggestion that their aunt, Miss Bourke, or +their uncle, Viscount Mayo, might have been quite as potent a factor in +solving the problem of how the invitation to a ball given by the Viceroy +to the people of Dublin came into the hands of the Miss Gunnings, may, +however, be worth a moment's consideration. + +At any rate, the success made by the girls upon this occasion was +immediate. Before a day had passed all Dublin and Dublin Castle were +talking of their beauty, and the splendid Mall was crowded with people +anxious to catch a glimpse of the lovely pair when they took their walks +abroad. Lady Caroline Petersham, the charming lady whose name figures +frequently in Walpole's correspondence--it will be remembered that she +was one of that delightful little supper party at Ranelagh which he +describes--was in the entourage of the Viceroy, and quickly perceived +the possibilities of social prestige accruing to the hostess who might +be the means of introducing them to St. James's. There a new face meant +a new sensation lasting sometimes well into a second month, and Lady +Caroline had her ambitions as a hostess. + +She was the Gunnings' best friend--assuming that social advancement is +an act of friendship--and it may safely be assumed that she was mainly +responsible for the extension of the area of the campaign entered on by +Mrs. Gunning, and that it was her influence which obtained for them the +passage to Chester in the Lord Lieutenant's yacht, and a bonus of £150 +charged, as so many other jobs were, “upon the Irish Establishment.” + The “Irish Establishment” was the convenient Treasury out of which money +could be paid without the chance of unpleasant questions being asked in +Parliament respecting such disbursements. + +Of course, it is not to be believed that such success as the young girls +encompassed in Dublin was reached without a word or two of detraction +being heard in regard to their behaviour. Mrs. Delany, amiable as +a moral gossip, or perhaps, a gossipy moralist, wrote to her sister +respecting them: “All that you have heard of the Gunnings is true, +except their having a fortune, but I am afraid they have a greater want +than that, which is discretion.” No doubt Mrs. Delany had heard certain +whispers of the girlish fun in which the elder of the sisters delighted; +but there has never been the smallest suggestion that her want of +discreetness ever approached an actual indiscretion. It may be assumed, +without doing an injustice to either of the girls, that their standard +of demeanour was not quite so elevated as that which the wife of Dean +Delany was disposed to regard as essential to be reached by any young +woman hoping to be thought well of by her pastors and masters. But the +steelyard measure was never meant to be applied to a high-spirited young +girl who has grown up among bogs and then finds herself the centre of +the most distinguished circle in the land, every person in which is +eagerly striving for the distinction of a word from her lips. Maria +Gunning may not have had much discretion, but she had enough to serve +her turn. She arrived in London with her sister, and no suggestion was +ever made--even by Walpole--that their mother had not taken enough care +of them. + +In London they at once found their place in the centre of the most +fashionable--the most notorious--set; but while we hear of the many +indiscreet things that were done by certain of their associates, nothing +worse is attributed to either of the girls than an Irish brogue or an +Irish idiom--perhaps a word or two that sounded unmusical to fastidious +ears. Walpole began by ridiculing them, and, as has already been noted, +sneering at their birth; but when he found they were becoming the +greatest social success that his long day had known, he thought it +prudent to trim his sails and refer to them more reasonably: they were +acquiring too many friends for it to be discreet for him to continue +inventing gossip respecting them. + +But what a triumph they achieved in town! Nothing had ever been known +like it in England, nor has anything approaching to it been known during +the century and a half that has elapsed since the beauty of these two +girls captured London. The opening of Parliament by the King in State +never attracted such crowds as thronged the Park when they walked in the +Mall. Never before had the guards to turn out at the Palace to disperse +the crowds who mobbed two young ladies who did not belong--except in a +distant way--to a Royal House. Upon one occasion the young Lord Clermont +and his friend were compelled to draw their swords to protect them from +the exuberant attentions of the crowd. “'Tis a warm day,” wrote George +Selwyn to Lord Carlisle, “and some one proposes a stroll to Betty's +fruit shop; suddenly the cry is raised, 'The Gunnings are coming,' and +we all tumble out to gaze and to criticise.” + +“The famous beauties are more talked of than the change in the +Ministry,” wrote Walpole. “They make more noise than any one of their +predecessors since Helen of Troy; a crowd follows them wherever they +walk, and at Vauxhall they were driven away.” + +This mobbing must have caused the girls much delightful inconvenience, +and one can see their mother acting the part--and overdoing it, after +the manner of her kind--of the distracted parent whose daughters have +just been restored to her arms. One can hear the grandiloquent thanks +of the father to the eligible young man with titles whose bravery +has protected his offspring--that would have been his word--from the +violence of the mob. The parents must have been very trying to the young +men in those days. But the mother showed herself to be rather more +than a match for one young man who hoped to win great fame as a +jocular fellow by playing a trick upon the family. Having heard of the +simplicity and credulousness of the girls, this gentleman, with another +of his kind, asked leave of Mrs. Gunning to bring to her house a certain +duke who was one of the greatest _partis_ of the day. On her complying, +he hired a common man, and, dressing him splendidly, conveyed him in +a coach to the Gunnings' house and presented him to the family as +the duke. But the man knew as little of the matter as did Walpole; he +assumed that she was nothing more than the adventurous wife of an Irish +squireen. He soon found out that he had made a mistake. Mrs. Gunning +rang the bell, and ordered the footman to turn the visitors out of +the house. But the family were soon consoled for this incident of the +impostor duke by the arrival of a real one, to say nothing of another +consolation prize in the form of an earl. In the meantime, however, +their popularity-had been increasing rather than diminishing. As a +matter of fact, although beauty may be reproached for being only skin +deep, it is very tenacious of life. A reputation for beauty is perhaps +the most enduring of all forms of notoriety. The renown that attaches to +the man who has painted a great picture, or to one who has made a great +scientific discovery, or to one who has been an eminent churchman or a +distinguished statesman, is, in point of popularity and longevity, quite +insignificant in comparison with that which is associated with the +name of a very beautiful woman. The crowds still surrounded the Miss +Gunnings, and the visit which they paid by command to King George II +gave them a position in the world of fashion that was consolidated by +the report of the charming _naivete_ of the reply made by Maria when the +King inquired if they had seen all the sights of London and if there +was any in particular which they would like to be shown. “Oh, I should +dearly like to see a coronation!” the girl is said to have cried. And as +that was just the sight for which the people of England were most eager, +she was acclaimed as their mouthpiece. + +So they progressed in the career that had been laid out for them. Duels +were fought about them, and bets were made about them and their future. +For nearly a year there was no topic of the first order save only the +Progress of Beauty. The Duke had come boldly forward. He was a double +duke--his titles were Hamilton and Brandon--and he had sounded such +depths of depravity that he was possibly sincere in his desire to +convince the world that his taste in one direction had not become +depraved. Elizabeth Gunning may have accepted his service from a hope of +being the means of reforming him. But even if she were not to succeed in +doing so, her mother would have reminded her that her failure would not +make her the less a duchess. It is open, however, for one to believe +that this girl cared something for the man and was anxious to amend his +life. + +Then we hear of her being with him at Lord Chesterfield's ball given +at the opening of his new mansion, her fancy dress being that of a +Quakeress. Three days later the world in which they lived awoke to learn +the astounding news that the Duke of Hamilton and Brandon had married +Elizabeth Gunning the previous night. + +Here was romance beyond a precedent; and Walpole romanced about it +as usual. In his account of the nuptials he succeeds in making more +misstatements than one would believe it possible even for such a worker +in the art to encompass in half a dozen lines. “When her mother and +sister were at Bedford House,” he wrote to Mann, “a sudden ardour, +either of wine or love, seized upon him (the Duke); a parson was +promptly sent for, but on arriving, refused to officiate without the +important essentials of licence or ring. The Duke swore and talked of +calling in the Archbishop. Finally the parson's scruples gave way, the +licence was overlooked, and the lack of the traditional gold ring was +supplied by the ring of a bed curtain!” + +This is very amusing, but it is not history. It is a clumsy fiction, +unworthy of the resources of the inventor. Sir Horace Mann must have +felt that his friend had a poor opinion of his intelligence if he meant +him to accept the assurance that the household of the Gunnings and the +fingers of His Grace were incapable of yielding to the fastidious parson +a better substitute for the traditional gold ring than the thing he +introduced. The facts of the incident were quite romantic enough without +the need for Walpole's embellishments. It was Valentine's Day, and what +more likely than that the suggestion should be made by the ardent +lover that so appropriate a date for a wedding would not come round for +another year! To suggest difficulties--impossibility--would only be to +spur him on to show that he was a true lover. However this may be, it +has long ago been proved that the midnight marriage took place in due +form at the Curzon Street Chapel in the presence of several witnesses. + +And then Walpole went on to say that the wedding of Lord Coventry and +the elder sister took place at the same time. It so happened, however, +that a fortnight elapsed between the two ceremonies, and in the case of +the second, the ceremony took place in the full light of day. + +The subsequent history of the two ladies is not without a note of +melancholy. The elder, pursued to the end by the malevolent slanders +of the man with the leer of the satyr perpetually on his face, died of +consumption after eight years of wedded life. The younger became a widow +two years earlier, and after being wooed by the Duke of Bridgewater, +whom she refused, sending him to his canal for consolation, married +Colonel Campbell, who in 1770 became the Fifth Duke of Argyll. Six +years later she was created a peeress in her own right, her title +being Baroness Hamilton of Hameldon in Leicestershire. In 1778 she +was appointed Mistress of the Robes. She attained to the additional +distinction of making the good Queen jealous, so that Her Majesty upon +one occasion overlooked her in favour of Lady Egremont. The Duchess at +once resigned, and only with difficulty was persuaded to withdraw her +resignation. She died in 1790. + + + + +THE FÊTE-CHAMPÊTRE + +NO one knows to-day with whom the idea of having an English +_fête-champêtre_ at The Oaks upon the occasion of the marriage of the +young Lord Stanley to Lady Betty Hamilton originated. The secret +was well kept; and it can be easily understood that in case of this +innovation proving a fiasco, no one would show any particular desire to +accept the responsibility of having started the idea. But turning out as +it did, a great success, it might have been expected that many notable +persons would lay claim to be regarded as its parents. A considerable +number of distinguished people had something to do with it, and any +one of them had certainly sufficient imagination, backed up by an +acquaintance with some of the exquisite pieces of MM. Watteau and +Fragonard, to suggest the possibility of perfecting such an enterprise +even in an English June. It was the most diligent letter-writer of that +age of letter-writing who had referred to the “summer setting in with +its customary severity,” so that the trifling of the month of June +with the assumption of the poets who have rhymed of its sunshine with +rapture, was not an experience that was reserved for the century that +followed. But in spite of this, the idea of a _fête-champêtre_, after +the most approved French traditions, in an English demesne found favour +in the eyes of Lord Stanley and his advisers, and the latter were +determined that, whatever price might have to be paid for it, they would +not run the chance of being blamed for carrying it out in a niggardly +spirit. + +The young Lord Stanley had as many advisers as any young nobleman with +a large immediate allowance and prospects of a splendid inheritance may +hope to secure. There was his _fiancée's_ mother, now the Duchess of +Argyll, who was never disposed to frown down an undertaking that would +place a member of one of her families in the forefront of the battle of +the beauties for the most desirable _parti_ of the year. + +[Illustration: 0155] + +The Duchess had both taste and imagination, so that people called her an +Irishwoman, although she was born in England. Then there was Mr. George +Selwyn, who said witty things occasionally and never missed a hanging. +He was fully qualified to prompt a wealthy companion as to the best +means to become notorious for a day. There was also young Mr. Conway, +the gentleman who originated the diverting spectacle when Mrs. Baddeley +and Mrs. Abington were escorted to the Pantheon. Any one of these, to +say nothing of Lady Betty herself, who had some love for display, might +have been inclined to trust an English June so far as to believe an _al +fresco_ entertainment on a splendid scale quite possible. + +On the whole, however, one is inclined to believe that it was Colonel +Burgoyne who was responsible for the whole scheme at The Oaks. In +addition to having become Lord Stanley's uncle by running away with +his father's sister, he was a budding dramatist, and as such must have +perceived his opportunity for exploiting himself at the expense of +some one else--the dream of every budding dramatist. There is every +likelihood that it was this highly accomplished and successful +“gentleman-adventurer” who brought Lord Stanley up to the point of +embarking upon his design for an entertainment such as had never +been seen in England before--an entertainment that should include the +production of a masque devised by Colonel Burgoyne and entitled _The +Maid of The Oaks_. The fête came off, and it was pronounced the most +brilliant success of the year 1774. + +Lord Stanley was a very interesting young man; that is to say, he was +a young man in whom no inconsiderable number of persons--mainly of the +opposite sex--were greatly interested. Of this fact he seems to have +been fully aware. A good many people--mainly of the opposite sex--felt +very strongly on the subject of his marrying: it was quite time that he +married, they said. His grandfather, the Earl of Derby, was eighty-four +years of age, and it would be absurd to believe that he could live much +longer. Lord Stanley being his heir, it was agreed that it was the young +man's duty not to procrastinate in the matter of marriage. It is always +understood that a patriarchal nobleman sings “_Nunc dimittis_” when he +holds in his arms the second in direct succession to the title, and this +happy consummation could, in the case of the aged Lord Derby, only be +realised by the marriage of Lord Stanley. + +He was small in stature, and extremely plain of countenance; still +this did not prevent his name from being coupled with that of several +notable--but not too notable--young women of his acquaintance. But as +it was well known that he was greatly interested in the stage, it +was thought that, perhaps, he might not be so complaisant as his best +friends hoped to find him in regard to marrying. An ardent interest in +the progress of the drama, especially in its lighter forms, has been +known to turn a young man's attention from marriage, when it does not do +what is far worse--turn his attention to it with too great zest. Before +long, however, it became apparent that his lordship recognised in what +direction his duty lay. There was a young lady connected with the Ducal +House of Bedford--a niece of that old Duchess who played so conspicuous +a part in the social and political history of the middle of the +eighteenth century--and to her Lord Stanley became devoted. But just +when every one assumed that the matter was settled, no one thinking +it possible that the young lady would be mad enough to refuse such a +_parti_, the news came that she had done so; and before people had +done discussing how very eccentric were the Bedford connections, +the announcement was made that Lord Stanley was to marry Lady Betty +Hamilton, the beautiful daughter of a beautiful mother, the Duchess of +Argyll. + +There is in existence a letter written by the Duchess to Sir William +Hamilton, in which she hints that Lord Stanley was an old suitor for the +hand of her daughter. “Lady Betty might have taken the name of Stanley +long ago if she had chose it,” she wrote, adding: “A very sincere +attachment on his side has at last produced the same on hers.” This +being so, it would perhaps be unsafe to assume that Lord Stanley +proposed to Lady Betty out of pique at having been rejected by the other +lady, though one might be disposed to take this view of the engagement. + +The alternative view is that Lady Betty had been advised by her +accomplished mother that if she played her cards well there was no +reason why she should not so attract Lord Stanley as to lead him to be a +suitor for her hand, and that the girl at last came to see that the +idea was worth her consideration. Her portrait, painted by Sir Joshua +Reynolds in the year of her marriage, shows her to have been a graceful, +girlish young creature; but her beauty could never have been comparable +with that of her mother at the same age, or with that of her aunt, Lady +Coventry, whom it is certain she closely resembled in character. Her +mother, in her letter to Sir William Hamilton, apologises in a way +for her liveliness, assuring him that such a disposition was not +incompatible with serious thought upon occasions; and this gives us +a hint that the reputation for vivacity which she always enjoyed was +closely akin to that which made the life of Lady Coventry so very +serious. + +This was the young lady in whose honour the first English _fête +champêtre_ was organised. To be more exact, or to get more into touch +with the view of the Derby family, perhaps one should say that the +_fête_ was set on foot in consideration of the honour the young lady +was doing herself in becoming a member of the great house of +Stanley. Different people look at a question of honour from different +standpoints. Probably Colonel Burgoyne, although a member of the Derby +family by marriage, left honour out of the question altogether, and only +thought of his masque being produced at his nephew's expense. + +And produced the masque was, and on a scale as expensive as the most +ambitious author could desire. It was described, with comments, by all +the great letter-writers of the time. Walpole has his leer and his sneer +at its expense (literally). It was to cost no less than £5000, he said, +and he ventured to suppose that in order to account for this enormous +outlay Lord Stanley had bought up all the orange trees near London--no +particular extravagance one would fancy--and that the hay-cocks would be +of straw-coloured riband. George Selwyn thought it far from diverting. +The Dowager Lady Gower affirmed that “all the world was there,” only she +makes an exception of her relations the Bedfords--she called them “the +Bloomsbury lot”--and said that the Duchess would not let any of them go +because Her Grace thought that Lord Stanley should have taken his recent +rejection by Her Grace's niece more to heart. Lady Betty's stepfather, +the Duke of Argyll, said that the whole day was so long and fatiguing +that only Lady Betty could have stood it all. + +But did Lady Betty stand it all? It was rumoured in the best-informed +circles that she had broken off the match the next day; and when one +becomes acquainted with the programme of the day's doings one cannot but +acknowledge that the rumour was plausible. She probably made an attempt +in this direction; but on her fiancé's promising never to repeat the +offence, withdrew her resolution. + +The famous brothers Adam, whose genius was equally ready to build +an Adelphi or to design a fanlight, had been commissioned to plan an +entertainment on the most approved French models and to carry it out on +the noblest scale, taking care, of course, that the central idea should +be the masque of _The Maid of The Oaks_, and these large-minded artists +accepted the order without demur. The pseudo-classical feeling entered, +largely through the influence of the Adams, into every form of art at +this period, though the famous brothers cannot be accused of originating +the movement. Sir Joshua Reynolds painted his most charming ladies in +the costume of Greeks, and Angelica Kauffmann depicted many of her early +English episodes with the personages clad in togas which seemed greatly +beyond their control. But for that matter every battle piece up to +the date of Benjamin West's “Death of Wolfe” showed the combatants in +classical armour; and Dr. Johnson was more than usually loud in his +protests against the suggestion that a sculptor should put his statues +of modern men into modern clothing. + +But the Adams were wise enough to refrain from issuing any order as to +the costume to be worn by the shepherds and shepherdesses who were +to roam the mead at The Oaks, Epsom, upon the occasion of this _fête +champêtre_; and they were also wise enough to distrust the constancy of +an English June. The result was (1) a charming medley of costume, though +the pseudo-pastoral peasants, farmers, gardeners, and shepherds were in +the majority, and (2) the most interesting part of the entertainments +took place indoors, the octagonal hall lending itself nobly--when +improved by Messrs. Adam--to the show. The “transparencies” which +constituted so important a part of the ordinary birthday celebrations +of the time, took the form of painted windows, and, later, of a +device showing two of the conventional torches of Hymen in full blaze, +supporting a shield with the Oak of the Hamiltons' crest and the usual +“gules.” + +This design occupied the place of the “set piece” which winds up a +modern display of fireworks and sets the band playing “God save the +King.” It could not have been brought on until the morning sunlight +was flooding the landscape outside; for supper was not served until +half-past eleven, and the company had to witness the representation of +an intolerably long masque--the second of the day--after supper, with a +procession of Druids, fauns, cupids, and nymphs, all in suitable, but it +is to be hoped not traditional, costume. + +The entertainment began quite early in the afternoon, when there was +a long procession of shepherds and shepherdesses through the lanes to +where a pastoral play was produced and syllabub drunk under the trees. +But this was only an _hors d'ouvre_; it was not Colonel Burgoyne's +masterpiece. This was not produced in the open air. Only when further +refreshments had been served and evening was closing in did the guests, +who had been sauntering through the sylvan scenes, repair to the great +hall, which they found superbly decorated and, in fact, remodelled, for +colonnades after the type of those in the pictures of Claude had been +built around the great ballroom, the shafts being festooned with roses, +and the drapery of crimson satin with heavy gold fringes. There were +not enough windows to make excuses for so much drapery, but this was no +insuperable obstacle to the artful designers; they so disposed of the +material as to make it appear that it was the legitimate hanging for six +windows. + +For the procession through the colonnades the young host changed his +costume and his fiancée changed hers. He had appeared as Rubens and she +as Rubens' wife, from the well-known picture. But now she was dressed as +Iphigenia. They led the first minuet before supper, and it was thought +that they looked very fine. No one who has seen the two pictures of the +scene, for which Zucchi was commissioned, can question this judgment. +Lady Betty's portrait in one of these panels makes her even more +beautiful than she appears on Sir Joshua's canvas. + +With a display of fireworks of a detonating and discomposing type--the +explosion, it was said, affected the nerves of nearly all the +guests--and the illumination of the “transparency” already alluded to, +this memorable fête came to no premature conclusion. Every one was bored +to death by so much festivity coming all at once. The idea of twelve +hours of masques and minuets is enough to make one's blood run cold. Its +realisation may have had this effect upon the heroine of the day, hence +the rumour that she found she had had enough of the Derby family to +last her for the rest of her life without marrying the young heir. +Unfortunately, however, if this was the case, she failed to justify the +accuracy of the report; and she was married to Lord Stanley on the 23rd +of the same month. + +The union of Maria Gunning with the Earl of Coventry was a miserable +one, but this of her niece and Lord Stanley was infinitely worse. Lady +Betty soon found out that she had made a mistake in marrying a man so +incapable of appreciating her charm of manner as was Lord Stanley. The +likelihood is that if she had married any other man she would have made +the same discovery. The vivacity for which her mother apologised to Sir +William Hamilton was, after her marriage, much more apparent than the +thoughtfulness which the Duchess assured her correspondent was one of +her daughter's traits. She showed herself to be appallingly vivacious +upon more than one occasion. Just at that time there was a vivacious +“set” in Lady Betty's world, and every member of it seemed striving for +leadership. Few of the ladies knew exactly where the border line lay +between vivacity and indiscretion. If Lady Betty was one of the better +informed on this delicate question of delimitation, all that can be said +is that she overstepped the line upon several occasions. It is not to be +thought that her lightness ever bordered into actual vice, but it rarely +fell short of being indiscreet. + +She was always being talked about--always having curious escapades, none +of them quite compromising, but all calculated to make the judicious +grieve. But it is one thing to be subjected to the censure of the +judicious and quite another to come before a judicial authority, and it +is pretty certain that if Lady Derby--her husband succeeded to the title +two years after his marriage--had incriminated herself, she would have +been forced to defend a divorce suit. + +It is, however, likewise certain that for some time she kept hovering +like a butterfly about the portals of the Court, and a good deal of the +bloom was blown off her wings by the breath of rumour. She had accepted +the devotion of the Duke of Dorset, and, considering the number of +eyes that were upon her and the devotion of His Grace, this was a very +dangerous thing to do. They were constantly seen together and at all +hours. This was in the second year of her marriage, but even in +the first her desire to achieve notoriety by some means made itself +apparent. But her escapade that was most talked about was really not +worthy of the gossip of a Gower. She was at a ball at the house of Mrs. +Onslow in St. James's Square, and her chair not arriving in good time to +take her back to Grosvenor Square, it was suggested by Lord Lindsay and +Mr. Storer that they should borrow Mrs. Onslow's chair and carry her +between them to her home. She agreed to this gallant proposal, and off +they set together. The young men bore her to her very door in spite of +the fact that they had met her own chair soon after they had left Mrs. +Onslow's porch. + +There was surely not much of an escapade in this transaction. The truth +was probably that the chair did not arrive owing to the condition of the +bearers, and when the young gentlemen met it they refused to jeopardise +the safety of the lady by transferring her from Mrs. Onslow's chair to +her own. + +Rumour, however, was only too anxious to put the worst construction upon +every act of the merry Countess, and it was doubtless because of this, +and of her own knowledge of her daughter's thoughtlessness, that +the Duchess of Argyll appeared upon the scene and endeavoured by her +presence and advice to avert the catastrophe that seemed imminent. +The Duchess insisted on accompanying her to every entertainment, and +succeeded in keeping a watchful eye on her, though the Duke, who was +at Inveraray, and was doubtless tired of hearing of the vivacity of +his stepdaughter, wrote rather peremptorily for Her Grace to return +to Scotland. She did not obey the summons, the fact being that she was +devoted to this daughter of hers, who must have daily reminded her of +her own sister Maria, to whom she had been so deeply attached. * + + * It was said that she had refused the offer of the Duke of + Bridgewater, because of his suggestion that she should break + off all intercourse with Lady Coventry. + +Seeing, however, that she could not continue to look after this lively +young matron, and being well aware of the fact that Lord Derby would +never consent to live with her again, the Duchess could do no more than +condone the separation which was inevitable. The deed was drawn up in +1779, five years after Lady Betty had been so inauspiciously bored by +the _fête champêtre_. + +[Illustration: 0171] + +In the meantime there was a good deal of talk about the Earl of Derby +himself. A young nobleman who takes a lively, or even a grave, interest +in the personnel of the theatre is occasionally made the subject of +vulgar gossip. Lord Derby had a reputation as an amateur actor, and +he seemed to think that it would be increased by association with +professional actresses. It is doubtful if he was justified in his views +on this delicate question. At any rate, rightly or wrongly, on his +estrangement from his wife, but two years before the final separation, +he showed a greater devotion than ever to dramatic performances and +dramatic performers. His uncle by marriage, now General Burgoyne, had +written a play that turned out an extraordinary success. This was _The +Heiress_, and it had received extravagant praise in many influential +quarters. It was while it was still being talked of in society that a +company of distinguished amateurs undertook to produce it at Richmond +House, in Whitehall Place. In order that the representation might be as +perfect as possible, the Duchess of Richmond engaged the actress who +had taken the chief part in the original production, to superintend +the rehearsals of her amateurs. Miss Farren was a young person +of considerable beauty, and more even than an actress's share of +discretion. She was in George Colman's company at the Haymarket, and +was rapidly taking the place of Mrs. Abington in the affections of +playgoers. She was the daughter of a surgeon in a small way--he may have +been one of the barber surgeons of the eighteenth century. Marrying an +actress (also in a small way), he adopted the stage as a profession, and +became a strolling actor-manager, whenever he got the chance, and died +before his drinking habits had quite demoralised his family. + +Mrs. Farren was a wise woman--wise enough to know that she was a bad +actress, but that there were possibilities in her two daughters. It was +after only a brief season of probation that Colman engaged one of +the girls to do small parts, promoting her in an emergency to be a +“principal.” Miss Farren proved herself capable of making the most of +her opportunity, and the result was that within a year she was taking +Mrs. Abington's parts in the best comedies. + +Her mother was sensible enough to perceive that there was room in the +best society for an actress of ability as well as respectability--up to +that time the two qualities had seldom been found associated--and Mrs. +Farren was right. No whisper had ever been heard against the young lady, +and a judicious introduction or two brought her into many drawing-rooms +of those leaders of society who were also respectable, and this was of +advantage to her not only socially, but professionally. Horace Walpole +was able to write of her: “In distinction of manner and refinement she +excelled Mrs. Abington, who could never go beyond Lady Teazle, which is +a second-rate character.” Again, in a letter to Lady Ossory, he ascribed +the ability of Miss Farren to the fact that she was accustomed to mingle +with the best society. + +This theory of Walpole's has been frequently controverted since his day, +and now no one will venture to assert that there is really anything in +it, although it sounds plausible enough. Miss Farren had, however, ample +opportunity of studying “the real thing” and of profiting by her study. +She found herself on the most intimate footing with duchesses--not of +the baser sort like her of Ancaster, or of the eccentric sort like her +of Bedford, but of the most exalted. The Duchess of Richmond and the +Duchess of Leinster were among her friends, and thus it was that her +appearance at the rehearsals of _The Heiress_ of Whitehall Place was +not wholly professional. Upon this occasion she met Lord Derby and also +Charles James Fox, the latter having accepted the rather onerous duties +of stage manager. Before any of the performers were letter perfect in +their dialogue, Miss Farren had captured the hearts of both these +men. Having some of the qualities necessary to success as a statesman, +including caution and an instinct as to the right moment to retire from +a contest that must end in some one being made a fool of, Mr. Fox soon +withdrew from a position of rivalry with Lord Derby. It was rumoured by +the malicious, who had at heart the maintenance of the good name of +Miss Farren, that Mr. Fox had been dismissed by the lady with great +indignation on his making a proposition to her that did not quite +meet her views in regard to the ceremony of marriage. Miss Farren they +asserted to be a paragon of virtue, and so she undoubtedly was. Her +virtue was of the most ostentatious type. She would never admit a +gentleman to an audience unless some witness of her virtue was present. +She accepted the devotion of Lord Derby, but gave him to understand +quite plainly that so long as his wife was alive she could only agree to +be his _fiancée_. Truly a very dragon of virtue was Miss Farren! + +The Earl, previous to his meeting the actress, had been a dutiful if not +a very devoted husband. But as soon as he fell in love with this paragon +of virtue he became careless, and made no attempt to restrain his wife +in her thoughtless behaviour. He allowed her to go her own way, and he +went his way. His way led him almost every evening to the green room +at the Haymarket and Drury Lane, where Miss Farren was to be found. The +estrangement between himself and his wife that resulted in the final +separation was the result not of his infatuation for the actress, but of +her virtuous acceptance of him as her moral lover. She took care never +to compromise herself with him or any one else, but she did not mind +taking the man away from his wife and home in order that she might be +accredited with occupying an absolutely unique position in the annals of +the English stage. + +If Miss Farren had been a little less virtuous and a little more human +she would run a better chance of obtaining the sympathy of such people +as are capable of differentiating between a woman's virtue and the +virtues of womankind. She seemed to think that the sole duty of a woman +is to be discreet in regard to herself--to give no one a chance of +pointings finger of scorn at her; and it really seemed as if this was +also the creed of the noble people with whom she associated. Every +one seemed to be so paralysed by her propriety as to be incapable of +perceiving how contemptible a part she was playing. An honest woman, +with the instincts of goodness and with some sense of her duty, would, +the moment a married man offers her his devotion, send him pretty +quickly about his business. The most elementary sense of duty must +suggest the adoption of such a course of treatment in regard to +an illicit admirer. But Miss Farren had no such sense. She met the +philandering of her lover with smiles and a virtuous handshake. She +accepted his offer of an adoring friendship for the present with a +reversion of the position of Countess of Derby on the death of the +existing holder of the title and its appurtenances; and people held her +up, and continue to hold her up, as an example of all that is virtuous +and amiable in life! + +She was also commended for her patience, as Lord Derby was for his +constancy. They had both great need of these qualities, for the unhappy +barrier to their union showed no signs of getting out of their way, +either by death or divorce. She became strangely discreet, taking, in +fact, a leaf out of Miss Farren's book of deportment, and never giving +her husband a chance of freeing himself from the tie that bound him +nominally to her. It must have been very gratifying to the actress to +perceive how effective was the example she set to the Countess in regard +to the adherence to the path of rectitude. + +What was the exact impression produced upon Lord Derby by all this +decorum it would be difficult to say. He may have been pleased to +discover that he was married to a lady to whom his honour was more +precious than he had any reason or any right to believe it to be. But +assuredly a less placid gentleman would have found himself wishing now +and again that--well, that matters had arranged themselves differently. + +The years went by without bringing about a more satisfactory _modus +vivendi_ than was in existence when Lord Derby originally offered his +heart and hand (the latter when it should become vacant) to the actress. +Lady Derby was in wretched health, but still showed no more inclination +to die than does a chronic invalid. Miss Farren continued to drive her +splendid chariot, with its coachmen on the hammer-cloth and its footmen +clinging on to the straps behind, down to the stage-door of the theatre, +and to fill the house every night that she played. Her popularity seemed +to grow with years, and she appeared in a wide range of characters, +making her audiences accept as correct her reading of every part, though +the best critics--Walpole was about the worst--of her art had a good +deal to say that was not quite favourable to her style. Only once, +however, did she make a flagrant error on the stage, and this was when +she was misguided enough to put on men's garments in representing the +part of Tracy Lovell in Colman's play, _The Suicide_. + +By this unhappy exhibition which she made of herself she disillusioned +those of her admirers who fancied that she was a model of grace from +the sole of her feet to the crown of her head. She never repeated this +performance. Had she done so in Lord Derby's presence, his constancy +would have been put to a severer test than any to which he had been +previously subjected. The best judges of what constitutes grace in a +woman were unanimous in their advice to the lady never to forsake the +friendly habiliments which she was accustomed to wear, and never to +allow her emulation of the perpetually chaste goddess to lead her to +adopt even for an hour the convenient garb in which she went a-hunting. + +And while his fiancée was moving from triumph to triumph, putting every +other actress in the shade, the Earl of Derby was putting on flesh. But +as his flesh became more visible so did his faith. He was a model of +fidelity. His name was never associated with the name of any other +lady--not even that of his wife--during his long years of probation, and +twenty years form a rather protracted period for a man to wait in order +to marry an actress. It was not to be wondered if the spectacle of the +devoted young peer waiting for the beautiful girl in the green room, +which was allowed to the habitués of that fascinating apartment during +the earlier years of this strange attachment, produced quite a different +effect upon people from that which was the result of witnessing a +somewhat obese, elderly gentleman panting along by the side of a chaste +lady of forty. Nor was it remarkable that, on seeing one day by the side +of Miss Farren, a gallant young man whose walk and bearing suggested +to elderly spectators a rejuvenated Lord Stanley, they should rub their +eyes and ask what miracle was this that time and true love had wrought. + +The only miracle that time had wrought was to make the son of the Earl +of Derby twenty-one years of age and rather interested in the personnel +of green rooms. He had been introduced to Miss Farren by his father; but +to his honour be it said, he made no attempt to take his father's +place in regard to the lady, except as her escort to her house in Green +Street. The gossip that suggested such a possibility was just what one +might expect to find in one of Walpole's letters. + +At last the shameful, if virtuous, devotion of twenty years was +rewarded by the announcement of the death of the wretched Countess whose +desertion dated from the day her husband met the actress. Miss Farren, +with that extraordinary bad taste which characterised every period +of her intimacy with Lord Derby, took an ostentatious farewell of the +stage, and proved by the faltering of her voice, her emotion, and her +final outburst in tears, that time had not diminished from the arts of +her art. Of course, there was a scene of intense emotion in the theatre, +which was increased when King led her forward and Wroughton spoke a +rhymed and stagey farewell in her presence. Four of its lines were +these: + + But ah! this night adieu the joyous mien, + + When Mirth's lov'd fav'rite quits the mimic scene, + + Startled Thalia would th'assent refuse, + + But Truth and Virtue sued and won the Muse. + +Truth and Virtue--these were the patrons of the compact by which Miss +Farren waited for twenty years for the death of the wife of the man whom +she had promised to marry--when she could. + +The scene in the green room when the actress came off the stage was +an unqualified success. Tears flowed freely, making channels as they +meandered down the paint; sobs came from the actresses who hoped to get +a chance of doing some of her parts now that she had left the stage; +and Miss Farren herself showed that she knew what were the elements of a +proper climax, by fainting with a shriek, in the midst of which she made +an exit supported by all the actors who were not already supporting some +of the hysterical ladies in the background. They all deserved to have +their salaries raised. The whole scene was a triumph--of art. + +The exact chronology of the crisis is worth noting. Lady Derby died on +March 4th, and was buried on April 2nd. On April 8th Miss Farren took +her farewell of the stage, and on May 1st she was married to the Earl +of Derby. A satisfactory explanation of the indecent delay in the +celebration of the marriage was forthcoming: his lordship had been +suffering from an attack of gout. + +But if no one ventured to cast an aspersion upon his character or to +accuse him of shilly-shallying in regard to the postponement of his +nuptials until his wife had been nearly a whole month in her grave, +there was a good deal of funny gossip set loose when, after a honeymoon +of two days, the Earl and the Countess returned to London. This also was +satisfactorily explained: the Countess was devoted to her mother! + +The marriage proved a very happy one, and thirty-two years passed before +the Countess died. Her husband survived her by five years. He died in +1834, fifty-seven years after his first meeting with the actress, and +forty-seven since he instituted “The Derby” race meeting, winning the +first cup by his horse Sir Peter Teazle. + + + + +THE PLOT OF A LADY NOVELIST + +IN the year 1790-1 there was played in real life a singularly poor +adaptation of an unwritten novel by one of the Minifie sisters--those +sentimental ladies who, during the last quarter of the eighteenth +century, provided the circulating libraries with several volumes of +high-flown fiction. The adaptation of this unwritten novel possessed a +good many of the most prominent features of the original, so that when +it was brought to light there could be very little doubt as to the brain +out of which it had been evolved. The result of the performance was so +unsatisfactory as to compel one to believe that the worst possible way +of producing a novel is to adapt it to suit the requirements of one's +relations, forcing them to play in real life and in all earnest the +parts assigned to them by the inventor of the plot. + +Miss Minifie, the second of the sentimental sisters, had married in the +year 1769 Colonel John Gunning, the brother of the two beautiful girls +one of whom became Duchess of Hamilton, and later Duchess of Argyll, and +the other Countess of Coventry. The result of the union was a daughter +of considerable plainness, and people said that in this respect she +resembled her mother's rather than her father's family. It seems that +while the Gunning tradition was beauty, the Minifie tradition was a +nose, and it soon became apparent that it was impossible to combine the +two with any satisfactory artistic results. The young lady had made an +honest attempt to do so, but her failure was emphatic. She had eyes that +suggested in a far-off way the long-lashed orbs of her aunts, but that +unlucky Minifie nose was so prominent a feature that it caused the +attention of even the most indulgent critic to be riveted upon it, to +the exclusion of the rest of her face. The charitably-disposed among her +friends affirmed that she would be passably good-looking if it were not +for her nose; the others said that she would be positively plain if it +were not for her eyes. + +Her father was probably that member of his family who had least brains: +they made a soldier of him, and he married a lady novelist, closing an +inglorious career by running off with his tailor's wife and having a +writ issued against him for £5000. He took care to be at Naples, outside +the jurisdiction of the English court, when it was issued, and he died +before it could be served on him, which suggests that he may not have +been so devoid of brains after all. + +Her mother (_née_ Minifie) seems to have entertained the idea of making +the girl work out a “plot” for her when she arrived at the regulation +age of the sentimental heroine of those days, and this plot she invented +with all her accustomed absence of skill. Her materials were a “glorious +child”--this was how she described her daughter--with a gifted mother; +a young cousin, heir to a dukedom and a large estate; and, lastly, +the Gunning tradition. Could any novelist ask for more? A short time +afterwards she did, however, and this was just where her art failed her. +She did much to discourage the writers of fiction from endeavouring to +work out their plots in real life. + +Catherine Gunning, the “glorious child,” being the niece of the Duchess +of Argyll, her cousin was, of course, the Marquis of Lome; and as the +Duchess had always kept up an intimate connection with the members of +her father's family, even to the second generation, her son, Lord Lome, +and Catherine Gunning had been a good deal together, not only when +they were children, but also when they had reached the age when the +novel-writer's hero and heroine begin to blossom. The girl's mother, +doubtless having an idea that these very live young people were +as plastic as the creatures of her fancy, thought to hasten on the +_dénouement_ of her story by whispering it to her friends. She whispered +into more than one ear that Lord Lome and her daughter were betrothed, +and such friends as received this information, strictly _sub rosa_, took +care to spread it abroad--strictly _sub rosa_ also. Now the aggregation +of many confidential reports of this sort is what is termed “news,” so +that in the course of a short time it was common property that Lord Lome +was to marry his cousin, Catherine Gunning. + +Congratulations reached the young lady, which she neither quite accepted +nor altogether rejected. She seems to have learned from her mother's +novels that in such matters it is wisest for a young woman to be silent +but pensive. And on the whole her behaviour was fairly consistent with +that of the heroine which her mother meant her to be. Indeed, all that +was needed to enable her to take the place of the heroine of a pleasant +little love story was the proposal of the hero; and unhappily this +formality had still to be reckoned with. Lord Lome had so paltry an +appreciation of what was due to the art of the fiction-writer that +he declined to play the part of the young hero of the story, and when +people approached him on the subject he said that he had heard nothing +about being accepted by Miss Gunning, and that he could not possibly be +accepted until he had proposed to her. He seems to have acted with the +discretion one would have looked for from the son of the Duchess of +Argyll, and in the course of the year the reports of the possible +union dwindled away, and people began to feel that their friends were +untrustworthy gossips to have circulated a report solely on the evidence +of a young lady's pensiveness. + +This was, however, as it turned out, but the opening chapter in the +romance which the novelist-mother was working out. Indeed, it scarcely +bears to be considered as a regular chapter, it was rather the prologue +to the comedy which was played two years later with the same heroine, +but for obvious reasons with a different hero. In the prologue there was +scarcely visible any of the art of the novelist; in the comedy itself, +however, her hand is constantly apparent, controlling the movements of +at least one of her puppets; and very jerkily, too, that hand pulled the +strings. The clumsiness in the construction of the plot prevented any +one from sympathising with the authoress and stage-manager of the piece +when its failure became known to the world in general, and to Horace +Walpole in particular. Walpole could pretend a good deal. He pretended, +for instance, that he knew at once that the Rowley poems, sent to him by +Chatterton, were forgeries; and he pretended that he knew nothing of the +marriage of his niece to the Duke of Gloucester until the public were +apprised of the fact. He could not, however, even pretend that he +sympathised with the failure of the Minifie plot. On the contrary, he +gloats over the disgrace which, he declared, on this account fell +upon the Gunning family. He hated the whole Gunning family, and he was +plainly in ecstasies of delight when he believed that ruin had come upon +them. “The two beautiful sisters were exalted almost as high as they +could go,” he wrote. “Countessed and double duchessed, and now the +family have dragged themselves down into the very dirt.” + +The “family” had of course done nothing of the sort. One member of the +family had allowed herself to be made a fool of at the suggestion of her +very foolish mother; her father had also been indiscreet, but there is +a wide difference between all this and the family of Gunning “dragging +themselves into the very dirt.” The result of the tricks of the lady +novelist to marry her daughter to the heir to a dukedom was only to +make every one roar with laughter, and no doubt the fatuous ladies felt +greatly annoyed. But the Marquis of Lome did not seem to take the matter +greatly to heart, and he was a member of the Gunning family; nor did the +Duke of Hamilton show himself to be greatly perturbed, though he must +have been somewhat jealous of the honour of the family to which his +mother belonged. The position that the Gunning family had taken among +the greatest families in the land rested upon too solid a foundation +to be shaken by the foolishness of a lady novelist, who had married a +Gunning. And now people who read the story of the “dragging in the dirt” + only shrug their shoulders at the ridiculous figure cut by the actors +in the shallow and sordid comedy, and laugh at the spiteful gibe of the +prince of gossips, who played a congenial part in damning the product of +the Minifie brain. + +Two years after the failure of the Lome plot startling whispers were +once again heard in regard to Miss Gunning and the heir to another +dukedom. This time it was the Marquis of Blandford who attracted +the Minifie fancy. He was the Duke of Marlborough's heir, and was +twenty-three years of age. Of course it was Mrs. Gunning (_née_ Minifie) +who was the first to make the announcement that the young people were +greatly attached; and then followed--after the interval of a chapter or +two--the lady novelist's declaration to her niece, a Mrs. Bowen, that +Lord Blandford had proposed, and had been accepted by Miss Gunning. +The date of the marriage had been fixed, and the draft deed of the +settlements signed; but, as in the former “case,” the recipient of +the news was told that she must regard the communication as strictly +confidential, the fact being that although the arrangements for the +match were so fully matured, yet General Gunning--he had recently been +made a general--had not been let into the secret. + +It must have seemed a little queer to Mrs. Bowen to learn that her uncle +had not been made acquainted with the good luck that was in store +for his daughter. The signing of marriage deeds in the absence of the +bride's father must surely have struck her as being a trifle irregular. +However this may be, she seems to have treated the communication as +strictly confidential by at once proceeding to spread abroad the news +that it contained. It reached the ears of several people of distinction +before long. General Conway heard of it, and from a quarter that seemed +to him absolutely trustworthy. He passed it round to Walpole and the +Court circle. The Duke of Argyll, as the uncle of the young lady most +interested in the match, was apprised of it in due course, and on +appealing to headquarters--that is to say, to Mrs. Gunning--for +confirmation or denial of the report, learned that the marriage had +indeed been “arranged,” but the question of settlements remained in +abeyance. + +Shortly afterwards there came rumours that there were obstacles in the +way of the marriage, and Miss Gunning, on being questioned by some of +her friends, confessed that it was the parents of her lover who were +unkind: young Lord Blandford was burning with anxiety to call her his +own, but the Duke and Duchess belonged unfortunately to that type of +parent to be found in so many novels in which the course of true love +runs anything but smooth. + +Strange to say, it was just at this point that a letter appeared in the +_Advertiser_, signed by General Gunning, apprising the world of the fact +that the Gunnings were one of the noblest families in existence, the +writer actually being able to trace his ancestry up to Charlemagne. + +It was while people were so laughing over this letter as to cause him +to declare it to be a forgery, that the General became suspicious of the +genuineness of his daughter's statements in regard to her _affaire de +cour_. When a blunt old soldier finds a letter bearing his signature in +the papers, well knowing that he never wrote such a letter, he is apt to +question the good faith even of his nearest and dearest. It is certain, +at any rate, that the descendant of Charlemagne had an uneasy feeling +that any woman who wrote novels was not to be implicitly trusted in the +affairs of daily life. His mind running on forged letters, he commanded +his daughter to submit to him her correspondence with her lover. + +Miss Gunning at once complied, and he sat down to read the lot. The +result was not to allay his suspicions. The letters read remarkably +well, and contained the conventional outpourings of an ardent lover to +the object of his affections. But to the simple soldier's mind they read +just too well: some of them were in the style of a novel-writer with +whom he was acquainted--imperfectly, it would appear, or he would have +suspected something long before. Retaining the precious “pacquet” he +awaited developments. + +He had not long to wait. Another contribution to the correspondence +which he had in his hand came to his daughter, and was passed on to him. +Noticing in it some doubtful features, he came to the conclusion that +it was necessary to get to the bottom of the affair in the most +straightforward way. He leapt to the bottom of it by sending the whole +“pacquet” to the young Marquis of Blandford, asking him peremptorily if +he had written the letters. + +He got a reply to the effect that a few of the letters were his--they +were the ordinary ones, courteous, but in no way effusive--but that the +greater number had not come from him. His lordship did not seem to think +that common politeness demanded his expressing his hearty concurrence +with the tone and sentiments contained in these same letters. Now in +the judgment of a novelist of the intellectual calibre of the Minifie +sisters this is exactly what a young gentleman would do when playing +the part of the hero of a romance, so that it would appear that General +Gunning was fully justified in coming to the conclusion that the whole +scheme--the whole piece of scheming--was the design of his wife--that it +represented an attempt on her part to force one of her “plots” upon some +real personages. Dull-minded man though he certainly was, he must have +perceived that his wife's plan was to compel Lord Blandford to act the +part of the hero of her sentimental imagination, and when confronted +with a parcel of forged letters, in every one of which there was a +confession of love for Miss Gunning, to bow his head meekly, as any +gentleman (of her imagination) would, and say, “Those are my letters, +and they express nothing but the most honourable sentiments of my +heart.” + +But as it so happened the young Lord Blandford was not a young gentleman +of this particular stamp. He seems to have been almost as practical as +his great ancestor, who, out of the proceeds of his first love intrigue, +bought an annuity for himself. Hence the fiasco of the Minifie plot. + +The Minifie plot, however, was not worked out in one act only, and an +insignificant prologue. The resources of the lady's imagination were +by no means exhausted by the failure of Lord Blandford to act up to the +heroic part assigned to him. He seems to have talked a good deal to +his friends about the forged letters, and the Duke of Argyll, the young +lady's uncle, took the matter up as an important member by marriage +of the family. He applied to his niece for an explanation of the whole +affair; and her father seems to have agreed with him in thinking that +if the girl was ever to hold up her head again it would be necessary +for her to bring forward some evidence to prove what she still asserted, +namely, that the letters had been written to her by Lord Blandford--this +“pacquet” of letters played as important a part in the story of Miss +Gunning as the “Casquet Letters” did in the history of Queen Mary--and +that they were written with the concurrence and approbation of the Duke +and Duchess of Marlborough. The Duke and Duchess had, she affirmed, +encouraged her by the most unmistakable means to believe that they were +extremely anxious to see her married to their son. + +It was then suggested--Horace Walpole, who gloats over the whole story +in a letter to one of the Berrys, does not say by whom--that the young +woman should draw up a narrative of the progress of the attachment +professed for her by Lord Blandford, and of the particular acts +of encouragement for which she alleged the Duke and Duchess were +responsible, leading her to feel sure that she was a _persona grata_ +with them. It was hoped by the Duke of Argyll and General Gunning that +the girl would be rehabilitated in the eyes of society by the production +of the Duke of Marlborough's formal assent to the statements made +by Miss Gunning in endeavouring to exculpate herself. Miss Gunning +assenting--after a consultation with her mother, we may be sure--a +“narrative” was accordingly prepared by the young lady, and in it there +was the ingenuous confession that although she had been unable to resist +so dazzling an offer as that of Lord Blandford, she had not wavered in +her affection for her cousin, the Marquis of Lome. + +Here we have the true Minifie touch of sentimentality, and we cannot +doubt that the remaining portion of the plot was due to her clumsy +ingenuity. + +This narrative was sent to the Duke of Marlborough, with the following +letter from General Gunning: + +“St. James's Place, + +“_3 rd February_, 1791. + +“My Lord,--I have the honour of addressing this letter to your Grace +not with the smallest wish after what has passed of having a marriage +established between Lord Blandford and my daughter, or of claiming any +promise or proposal to that effect, but merely to know whether your +Grace or the Duchess of Marlborough have it in recollection that +your Graces or Lord Blandford ever gave my daughter reason to think a +marriage was once intended. + +“My motive for giving this trouble arises merely from a desire of +removing any imputation from my daughter's character, as if she +had entertained an idea of such importance without any reasonable +foundation. + +“For my own satisfaction, and that of my particular friends who have +been induced to believe the reports of the intended marriage, I have +desired my daughter to draw up an accurate narrative of every material +circumstance on which that belief was founded. + +“This narrative I have the honour of transmitting to your Grace for your +own perusal, and that of the Duchess of Marlborough and Lord Blandford, +thinking it highly suitable that you should have an early opportunity +of examining it--and I beg leave to request that your Grace will, after +examination, correct or alter such passages as may appear either to your +Grace, the Duchess of Marlborough, or Lord Blandford, to be erroneously +stated. + +“I have the honour to be, + +“With the greatest respect, my Lord, + +“Your Grace's most humble and + +“Most obedient servant, + +“John Gunning.” + +This letter was dispatched by a groom to its destination at Blenheim, +and within half an hour of his delivering it, His Grace, according to +the groom, had handed him a reply for General Gunning. This document, +which the groom said he had received from the Duke, was forwarded, with +a copy of the letter to which it constituted a most satisfactory reply, +to a small and very select committee that had, it would seem, been +appointed to investigate and report upon the whole story. It must also +be quoted in full, in order that its point may be fully appreciated by +any one interested in this very remarkable story. + +“Blenheim. + +“Sir,--I take the earliest opportunity to acknowledge the receipt of +your letter, and to answer it with that explicitness you are so much +entitled to. From the first of the acquaintance of the D------s of +Marlborough and myself had with Miss Gunning, we were charmed with +her, and it was with infinite satisfaction we discovered _Blanford's_ +sentiments similar to our own. It had long been the wish of both to +see him married to some amiable woman. Your daughter was the one we had +fixed on, and we had every reason to suppose the object of his tenderest +affections, and, from the conduct of both himself and his family, +yourself and Miss Gunning had undoubtedly every right to look on a +marriage as certain. Indeed when I left town last summer, I regarded her +as my future daughter, and I must say it is with sorrow I relinquish the +idea. The actions of young men are not always to be accounted for; +and it is with regret that I acknowledge my son has been particularly +unaccountable in his. I beg that you will do me the justice to believe +that I shall ever think myself your debtor for the manner in which you +have conducted yourself in this affair, and that I must always take +an interest in the happiness of Miss Gunning. I beg, if she has not +conceived a disgust for the whole of my family, she will accept the +sincerest good wishes of the Duchess and my daughters. + +“I have the honour to remain, + +“Sir, + +“Your much obliged and + +“Most obedient, humble servant, + +“Marlborough.” + +Now be it remembered that both these letters were forwarded to the +committee with the young lady's narrative, to be considered by them in +the same connection, at Argyll House, where their sittings were to be +held. + +What was to be said in the face of such documentary evidence as this? +Those members of the committee who hoped that the girl's statement of +her case would be in some measure borne out by the Duke of Marlborough +could never have hoped for so triumphant a confirmation of her story as +was contained in His Grace's letter. It seemed as if the investigation +of the committee would be of the simplest character; handing them such +a letter, accompanying her own ingenuous narrative, it was felt that she +had completely vindicated her position. + +But suddenly one member of the committee--Walpole in the letter to Miss +Berry affirms that he was this one--ventured to point out that in the +Duke's letter the name _Blandford_ was spelt without the middle letter +_d_. “That was possible in the hurry of doing justice,” wrote Walpole. +But the moment that this pin-puncture of suspicion appeared in the +fabric of the lady's defence it was not thought any sacrilege to try to +pick another hole in it. The wax with which the letter was sealed +was black, and the members of the council asked one another whom the +Marlborough family were in mourning for, that they should seal their +letter in this fashion. No information on this point was forthcoming. +(It is strange if Walpole did not suggest that they were in mourning +over the defunct reputation of the young lady.) If the Duke of Argyll +was present, it can well be believed that, after the members of the +council had looked at each other, there should be silence in that room, +on one wall of which we may believe there was hanging the splendid +portrait of Elizabeth, Duchess of Argyll and Baroness Hamilton of +Hameldon, in her own right, painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds. The lady was +dying at her Scotch home when this investigation into the conduct of her +niece was being conducted. + +It was probably a relief to every one present when the suggestion was +made that the Duke of Marlborough's second son was in town, and if +sent for he might be able to throw some light upon the subject of the +mourning wax or some other questionable point in the same connection. +Although it was now close upon midnight a messenger was dispatched for +the young man--probably his whereabouts at midnight would be known with +greater certainty than at midday. At any rate he was quickly found, +and repaired in all haste to Argyll House. He was brought before +the committee and shown the letter with the black wax. He burst out +laughing, and declared that the writing bore not the least resemblance +to that of his father, the Duke of Marlborough. + +There was nothing more to be said. The council adjourned _sine die_ +without drawing up any report, so far as can be ascertained. + +But the full clumsiness of the Minifie “plot” was revealed the next day, +for General Gunning received a letter from the Captain Bowen whose name +has already entered into this narrative, telling him that his wife, the +General's niece, had a short time before received from Miss Gunning a +letter purporting to be a copy of one which had come to her from the +Duke of Marlborough, and begging her to get her husband to make a fair +copy of it, and return it by the groom. Captain Bowen added that he +had complied with his wife's request to this effect, but he had written +“_copy_” at the top and “_signed M_.” at the bottom, as is usual in +engrossing copies of documents, to prevent the possibility of a charge +of forgery being brought against the copyist. + +The letter which the girl wrote to Mrs. Bowen was made the subject of +an affidavit shortly afterwards, and so became public property. It is +so badly composed that one cannot but believe it was dictated by her +mother, though the marvellous spelling must have been Miss Gunning's +own. The fact that, after making up a story of her love for Lord Lome, +and of the encouragement she received from the Marlborough family in +respect of Lord Blandford, she instructed Mrs. Bowen to keep the matter +secret from her mother, confirms one's impression as to the part the +lady must have played in the transaction. Miss Gunning wrote: “Neither +papa or I have courage to tell mama, for she detests the person dearest +to me on earth.” + +But however deficient in courage her papa was in the matter of +acquainting his wife with so ordinary an incident as was referred to in +this letter, he did not shrink from what he believed to be his duty when +it was made plain to him that his daughter and his wife had been working +out a “plot” in real life that necessitated the forging of a letter. +He promptly bundled both wife and daughter out of his house, doubtless +feeling that although the other personages in the romance which his wife +was hoping to weave, had by no means acted up to the parts she had meant +them to play, there was no reason why he should follow their example. +It must be acknowledged that as a type of the bluff old soldier, simple +enough to be deceived by the inartistic machinations of a foolish wife, +but inexorable when finding his credulity imposed upon, he played +his part extremely well. At the same time such people as called him a +ridiculous old fool for adopting so harsh a measure toward his erring +child, whose tricks he had long winked at, were perhaps not to be +greatly blamed. + +The old Duchess of Bedford at once received the outcasts and provided +them with a home; and then Mrs. Gunning had leisure to concoct a +manifesto in form of an open letter to the Duke of Argyll, in which, +after exhorting His Grace to devote the remainder of his life to +unravelling the mystery which she affirmed (though no one else could +have done so) enshrouded the whole affair of the letter, she went on +to denounce the simple-hearted General for his meanness--and worse--in +matters domestic. He had never been a true husband to her, she declared, +and he was even more unnatural as a father. As for Captain Bowen and his +wife, the writer of the manifesto showed herself to be upon the brink +of delirium when she endeavoured to find words severe enough to describe +their treachery. They were inhuman in their persecution of her “glorious +child,” she said, and then she went on to affirm her belief that the +incriminating letters had been forged by the Bowens, and the rest of the +story invented by them with the aid of the General to ruin her and her +“glorious child.” + +Captain Bowen thought fit to reply to this amazing production. He did so +through the prosaic form of a number of affidavits. The most important +of these was that sworn by one William Pearce, groom to General Gunning. +In this document he deposed that when he was about to start for Blenheim +with the “pacquet” for the Duke of Marlborough, Miss Gunning had caught +him and compelled him to hand over the “pacquet” to her, and that +she had then given him another letter, sealed with black, bearing +the Marlborough arms, instructing him to deliver it to her father, +pretending that he had received it at Blenheim. + +In spite of all this Miss Gunning continued to affirm her entire +innocence, and even went the length--according to Walpole--of swearing +before a London magistrate that she was innocent. “It is but a burlesque +part of this wonderful tale,” adds Walpole, “that old crazy Bedford +exhibits Miss every morning on the Causeway in Hyde Park and declares +her _protégée_ some time ago refused General Trevelyan.” But “crazy old +Bedford” went much further in her craziness than this, for she actually +wrote to the Marquis of Lome trying to patch up a match between Miss +Gunning and himself. Immediately afterwards the town was startled by the +report that a duel was impending between Lord Lome and Lord Blandford, +the former maintaining that it was his duty to uphold the honour of his +cousin, which had been somewhat shaken by the course adopted by the +Marlborough heir. Of course no duel took place, and the young men simply +laughed when their attention was called to the statement in print. + +How much further these alarums and excursions (on the Causeway) would +have proceeded it would be impossible to tell, the fact being that +Captain Bowen and his wife gave notice of their intention to institute +proceedings against the Gunnings, mother and daughter, for libel. This +brought _l'affaire Gunning_ to a legitimate conclusion, for the ladies +thought it advisable to fly to France. + +“The town is very dull without them,” wrote Walpole to one of the +Berrys, enclosing a copy of a really clever skit in verse, after the +style of “The House that Jack Built,” ridiculing the whole affair. +When Mrs. Gunning and her daughter returned, after the lapse of several +months, the old Duchess of Bedford took them up once more; but the town +declined to take any further notice of them. It was not until her father +and mother had been dead for some years that Miss Gunning married Major +Plunkett, an Irish rebel, who fled after the rising in 1798. She lived +with him happily enough for twenty years, endeavouring to atone for the +indiscretion of her girlhood by writing novels. It is doubtful if many +of her readers considered such expiation wholly adequate, considering +how foolish she had been. One act of folly can hardly be atoned for +by another. But her intention was good, and her faults, including her +novels, have long ago been forgiven her by being forgotten. + + + + +TRAGEDY WITH A TWINKLE + +IN the summer of 1770 there arrived at the town of Lisle a coach +containing three ladies and one man, followed by a travelling chaise +with servants and luggage. Of the ladies, one was approaching middle +age, handsome and elegant; the other two were her daughters, and both +were extremely beautiful and graceful girls, under twenty years of age. +The man was a small, middle-aged person, with a face which one would +have called plain if it had not been that the protruding of his upper +lip and the twinkle in his eyes suggested not plainness, but comedy. The +very soul of comedy was in the gravity of his face; but it was that sort +which is not apparent to all the world. It was the soul of comedy, not +the material part; and most people are disposed to deny the possibility +of comedy's existing except in juxtaposition with the grin through the +horse-collar. Solemnity in a face, with a twinkle in the eye--that is +an expression which comedy may wear without arousing the +curiosity--certainly without exciting the laughter--of the multitude. +And this was exactly the form that the drama of this man's life assumed; +only it was tragedy with a twinkle. Tragedy with a twinkle--that was +Oliver Goldsmith. + +[Illustration: 0203] + +The vehicles drew up in the courtyard of the hotel in the square, and +Dr. Goldsmith, after dismounting and helping the ladies to dismount, +gave orders in French to the landlord in respect of the luggage, and +made inquiries as to the table d'hôte. Shown to their respective rooms, +the members of the party did not meet again for some time, and then it +was in the private _salle_ which they had engaged, looking out upon +the square. The two girls were seated at a window, and their mother was +writing letters at a table at one side. + +When Dr. Goldsmith entered we may be pretty sure that he had exchanged +his travelling dress for a more imposing toilet, and we may be equally +certain that these two girls had something merry to say about the cut or +the colour of his garments--we have abundant record of their _badinage_ +bearing upon his flamboyant liking for colour, and of his retorts in +the same spirit. We have seen him strutting to and fro in gay apparel, +obtrusively calling attention to the beauty of his waistcoat and +speaking in solemn exaggeration of its importance. The girls were well +aware of this form of his humour; they appreciated it to the full, and +responded to it in their merriment. + +Then there came the sound of martial music from the square, and the +elder of the girls, opening the window on its hinges, looked out. A +regiment of soldiers was turning into the square and would pass the +hotel, she said. The two girls stood at one window and Goldsmith at +another while the march past took place. It was not surprising that, +glancing up and seeing the beautiful pair at the window, the mounted +officers at the head of the regiment should feel flattered by the +attention, nor was it unlikely that the others, taking the _pas_ from +their superiors, should look up and exchange expressions in admiration +of the beauty of the young ladies. It is recorded that they did so, and +that, when the soldiers had marched off, the little man at the other +window walked up and down the room in anger “that more attention had +been paid to them than to him.” + +These are the words of Boswell in concluding his account of the episode, +which, by the way, he printed with several other stories in illustration +of the overwhelming vanity and extraordinary envy in Goldsmith's +nature. As if any human being hearing such a story of the most complete +curmudgeon would accept the words as spoken seriously! And yet Boswell +printed it in all solemnity, and hoped that every one who read it would +believe that Goldsmith, the happy-go-lucky Irishman, was eaten up with +envy of the admiration given to the two exquisite girls on whom, by the +way, be conferred immortality; for so long as English literature remains +the names of the Jessamy Bride and Little Comedy will live. Yes, and +so long as discriminating people read the story of Goldsmith's envious +outburst they will not fail to see the true picture of what did actually +take place in that room in the Lisle hotel--they will see the little man +stalking up and down, that solemn face of his more solemn than ever, but +the twinkle in his eyes revealing itself all the more brightly on this +account, while he shakes his fists at the ladies and affirms that the +officers were dolts and idiots to waste their time gazing at them when +they had a chance “of seeing me, madam, me--_me!_” Surely every human +being with the smallest amount of imagination will see the little man +thumping his waistcoat, while the Miss Hornecks hold up their hands and +go into fits of laughter at that whimsical Dr. Goldsmith, whom they had +chosen to be their companion on that tour of theirs through France with +their mother. + +And surely every one must see them in precisely the same attitude, when +they read the story in Boswell's _Life of Johnson_, and notice what +interpretation has been put upon it by the Scotsman--hands uplifted in +amazement and faces “o'er-running with laughter” at the thought of how +Mr. Boswell has, for the thousandth time, been made a fool of by +some one who had picked up the story from themselves and had solemnly +narrated it to Boswell. But in those days following the publication of +the first edition of the _Life_, people were going about with uplifted +hands, wondering if any man since the world began had ever been so +befooled as Boswell. + +When the story appeared in _Johnson's Life_ the two girls had been +married for several years; but one of them at least had not forgotten +the incident upon which it was founded; and upon its being repeated in +Northcote's _Life of Reynolds_, she wrote to the biographer, assuring +him that in this, as well as in other stories of the same nature, the +expression on Goldsmith's face when he professed to be overcome by envy +was such as left no one in doubt that he was jesting. But Croker, in +spite of this, had the impudence to sneer at the explanation, and to +attribute it to the good-nature of the lady. Mr. Croker seems to have +had a special smile of his own for the weaknesses of ladies. This was +the way he smiled when he was searching up old registries of their birth +in his endeavour to prove that they had made themselves out to be six +months younger than they really were. (Quite different, however, must +his smile have been when he read Macaulay's Essay on Croker's edition +of Boswell's _Life of Johnson_). But, unhappily for poor Goldsmith, +Mr. Boswell was able to bring forward much stronger evidence of the +consuming Vanity, the parent of Envy, with which his “honest Dr. +Goldsmith” was afflicted. There was once an exhibition of puppets in +Panton Street, and on some member of the distinguished company in which +he, curiously enough for such a contemptible lout, constantly found +himself, admiring the dexterity with which the wooden figure tossed +a halbert, Goldsmith, we are gravely told, appeared annoyed and said: +“Pshaw! I could do it as well myself!” Supposing that some one had said +to Boswell, “After all, sir, perhaps Dr. Goldsmith could have done it as +well himself,” would the man have tried to explain that the question was +not whether Goldsmith or the puppet was the more dexterous, but +whether it was possible to put any other construction upon Goldsmith's +exclamation than that assumed by Mr. Boswell? + +Yet another instance is given of Goldsmith's envy, and this time the +object of it is not a wooden figure, but Shakespeare himself. He could +not bear, Dr. Beattie tells us, that so much admiration should be given +to Shakespeare. Hearing this, we feel that we are on quite a different +level. There is no jealousy rankling this time in Goldsmith's heart +against a mere puppet. It is now a frantic passion of chagrin that +Shakespeare should still receive the admiration of a chosen few! + +But such vanity as that so strikingly illustrated by this last told +story, is, one must confess with feelings of melancholy, not yet wholly +extinct among literary men. It would scarcely be believed--unless by +Boswell or Beattie--that even in America a man with some reputation as +a writer should deliberately ask people to assume that he himself was +worthy of a place in a group that included not merely Shakespeare, but +also Milton and Homer. “Gentlemen,” said this egregious person at a +public dinner, “Gentlemen, think of the great writers who are dead and +gone. There was Shakespeare, he is dead and gone; and Milton, alas! +is no longer in the land of the living; Homer has been deceased for a +considerable time, and I myself, gentlemen, am not feeling very well +to-night.” + +What a pity it is that Beattie has gone the way of so many other great +writers. If he could only have been laid on to Mark Twain we should have +the most comic biography ever written. + +Goldsmith was, according to the great Boswell and the many lesser +Boswells of his day, the most contemptible wretch that ever wrote the +finest poem of the century, the finest comedy of the century, the +finest romance of the century. He was a silly man, an envious man, an +empty-headed man, a stuttering fool, an idiot (of the inspired variety), +an awkward lout, a shallow pedant, and a generally ridiculous person; +and yet here we find him the chosen companion of two of the most +beautiful and charming young ladies in England on their tour through +France, and on terms of such intimacy with them and their brother, an +officer in the Guards and the son-in-law of a peer, that nicknames are +exchanged between them. A singular position for an Irish lout to find +himself in! + +Even before he is known to fame, and familiar only with famine, he is +visited in his garret by Dr. Percy, a member of the great Northumberland +family at whose town house he lived. So much for the empty-headed fool +who never opened his mouth except to put his foot in it, as a countryman +of his said about quite another person. He was a shallow prig, and yet +when “the Club” was started not one of the original members questioned +his right to a place among the most fastidious of the community, +although Garrick--to the shame of Johnson be it spoken--was not admitted +for nine years. Boswell--to the shame of Johnson be it spoken--was +allowed to crawl in after an exclusion of ten. According to his numerous +detractors, this Goldsmith was one of the most objectionable persons +possible to imagine, and yet we find him the closest friend of the +greatest painter of the day and the greatest actor of the day. He +associates with peers on the friendliest terms, and is the idol of their +daughters. He is accused, on the one hand, of aiming at being accounted +a Macaroni and being extravagant in his dress, and yet he has such a +reputation for slovenliness in this respect that it is recorded that +Dr. Johnson, who certainly never was accused of harbouring unworthy +aspirations to be accounted a beau, made it a point of putting on his +best garments--he may even have taken the extreme step of fastening up +his garters--before visiting Goldsmith, in order, as he explained, that +the latter might have no excuse for his slovenliness. We are also told +that Goldsmith made a fool of himself when he got on his feet to make +a speech, and yet it is known that he travelled through Europe, winning +the hospitality of more than one university by the display of his skill +as a disputant. Again, none of his innumerable traits of awkwardness is +so widely acknowledged as his conversational, and yet the examples which +survive of his impromptu wit are of the most finished type; and (even +when the record is made by Boswell), when he set himself out to take +opposite sides to Johnson, he certainly spoke better sense than his +antagonist, though he was never so loud. It is worth noting that nearly +all the hard things which Johnson is reported to have said respecting +Goldsmith were spoken almost immediately after one of these disputes. +Further, we are assured that Goldsmith's learning was of the shallowest +order, and yet when he was appointed Professor of History to the Royal +Academy we do not hear that any voice was raised in protest. + +What is a simple reader to think when brought face to face with such +contradictory accounts of the man and his attainments? Well, possibly +the best one can do is to say, as Fanny Burney did, that Goldsmith was +an extraordinary man. + +Of course, so far as his writings are concerned there is no need for one +to say much. They speak for themselves, and readers can form their own +opinion on every line and every sentence that has come from his pen. +There is no misunderstanding the character of _The Traveller_ or _The +Deserted Village_ or _The Vicar of Wakefield_. These are acknowledged by +the whole world to be among the most precious legacies of the eighteenth +century to posterity. Who reads nowadays, except out of curiosity, such +classics as _Tristram Shandy, Clarissa Harlow, Evelina, or Rasselas?_ +But who has not read, and who does not still read for pleasure, _The +Vicar of Wakefield?_ Johnson's laborious poem, _The Vanity of Human +Wishes_, now only exists as an example of the last gasp of the +didactic in verse; but we cannot converse without quoting--sometimes +unconsciously--from _The Deserted Village_ When the actor-manager of a +theatre wishes to show how accomplished a company he has at his disposal +he produces _She Stoops to Conquer_, and he would do so more frequently +only he is never quite able to make up his mind whether he himself +should play the part of old Hardcastle, Tony Lumpkin, Young Marlow, +or Diggory. But what other eighteenth-century comedy of all produced +previous to the death of Goldsmith can any manager revive nowadays with +any hope of success? Colman of the eighteenth century is as dead +as Congreve of the seventeenth; and what about the masterpieces of +Cumberland, and Kelly, and Whitehead, and the rest? What about the Rev. +Mr. Home's _Douglas_, which, according to Dr. Johnson, was equal to +Shakespeare at his best? They have all gone to the worms, and these +not even bookworms--their very graves are neglected. But _She Stoops +to Conquer_ is never revived without success--never without a modern +audience recognising the fact that its characters are not the puppets +of the playwright, but the creations of Nature. It is worthy of mention, +too, that the play which first showed the capacity of an actress +whose name was ever at the head of the list of actresses of the last +generation, was founded on _The Vicar of Wakefield._ It was Miss Ellen +Terry's appearance in _Olivia_ in 1878 that brought about her connection +with the ever memorable Lyceum management as an associate of the +greatest actor of our day. + +These things speak for themselves, and prove incontestably that +Goldsmith was head and shoulders above all those writers with whom he +was on intimate terms. But the mystery of the contradictory accounts +which we have of the man himself and his ways remains as unsolved as +ever. + +Yes, unless we assume one thing, namely--that the majority of the people +about him were incapable of understanding him. Is it going too far to +suggest that, as Daniel Defoe was sent to the pillory because his ironic +jest in _The Shortest Way with the Dissenters_ was taken in earnest, and +as good people shuddered at the horrible proposal of Swift that Irish +babies should be cooked and eaten, so Goldsmith's peculiarities of +humour were too subtle to be in any degree appreciated by most of the +people with whom he came in contact in England? + +In Ireland there would be no chance of his being misunderstood; for +there no form that his humour assumed would be regarded as peculiar. +Irony is a figure of speech so largely employed by the inhabitants in +some parts that people who have lived there for any length of time have +heard whole conversations carried on by two or three men without the +slightest divergence from this tortuous form of expression into the +straight path of commonplace English. And all this time there was no +expression but one of complete gravity on the faces of the speakers; +a stranger had no clue whatsoever to the game of words that was being +played before him. + +Another fully recognised form of humour which prevails in Ireland is +even more difficult for a stranger to follow; its basis consists in +mystifying another person, not for the sake of getting a laugh from a +third who has been let into the secret, but simply for the satisfaction +of the mystifier himself. The forms that such a scheme of humour +may assume are various. One of the most common is an affectation of +extraordinary stupidity. It is usually provoked by the deliverance of a +platitude by a stranger. The humourist pretends that he never heard such +a statement before, and asks to have it repeated. When this is done, +there is usually a pause in which the profoundest thought is suggested; +then the clouds are seen to clear away, and the perplexity on the man's +face gives way to intelligence; he has grasped the meaning of the phrase +at last, and he announces his victory with sparkling eyes, and forthwith +puts quite a wrong construction upon the simplest words. His chuckling +is brought to a sudden stop by the amazed protest of the victim against +the suggested solution of the obvious. Thus, with consummate art, the +man is led on to explain at length, with ridiculous emphasis, the exact +meaning of his platitude; but it is all to no purpose. The humourist +shakes his head; he pretends that the cleverness of the other is +too much for him to grasp all in a moment; it's a fine thing to have +learning, to be sure, but these things may be best not meddled with +by ignorant creatures like himself; and so he goes off murmuring his +admiration for the fine display of wisdom that comes so easy-like from +the man whom he has been fooling. + +This form of humour is indulged in by some Irishmen simply for the +satisfaction it gives them to indulge in it. They never hurry off +to acquaint a neighbour with what they have done, and they are quite +pleased with the thought that the person on whom they have been imposing +will tell the whole story of their extraordinary obtuseness to some +one else; it never strikes them that that some one else may fail to see +through the trick, and actually be convinced of the existence of their +obtuseness. But if such a possibility did occur to them, they would be +all the better pleased: they would feel that they had fooled two instead +of one. + +But, of course, the most widely recognised form of Irish humour is that +known as the “bull.” This is the delivery of a paradox so obvious as +to be detected--after a brief consideration--by an Englishman or +even--after an additional space for thought--by a Scotsman. But where +the fun comes in is (in the Irishman's eyes) when the others assume +that the humour of the bull is involuntary; and this is just what the +Englishman has been doing, and what the Irishman has been encouraging +him to do, for centuries. The Englishman is so busy trying to make it +appear that he is cleverer than he really is, he cannot see the humour +of any man trying to make out that he is more stupid than he really +is. Let no one fancy for a moment that the humour of an Irish bull is +involuntary. It is a form of expression that may be due to a peculiar +twist in the Irishman's mind--indeed, every form of humour may be said +to be due to a peculiar twist of the mind--but it is as much a figure +of speech as irony or satire. “Blarney” and “palaver” are other forms +of speech in which the Irish of some generations ago indulged with great +freedom, and both are essentially Irish and essentially humorous, +though occasionally borrowed and clumsily worn on the other side of +the Channel, just as the bernous of the Moor is worn by an English +missionary when lecturing in the village schoolroom (with a +magic-lantern) on The Progress of Christianity in Morocco. + +It would be interesting to make a scientific inquiry into the origin and +the maintenance of all these forms of expression among the Irish; but it +is unnecessary to do so in this place. It is enough if we remind English +readers of the existence of such forms even in the present day, when +there is so little need for their display. It can without difficulty be +understood by any one, however superficially acquainted with the history +of Ireland for the past thousand years, that “blarney” and “palaver” + were as necessary to the existence of the natives of the island as +suspicion and vigilance were to the existence of the invaders. But it is +not so apparent why Irishmen should be given to rush into the extremes +of bragging on the one hand, and self-depreciation on the other. +Bragging is, however, as much an endowment of Nature for the protection +of a species or a race as is imitation or mimicry. The Irishman who was +able by the exercise of this gift to intimidate the invaders, escaped a +violent death and transmitted his art to his children. The practice of +the art of self-depreciation was quite as necessary for the existence of +the Irish race up to the time of the passing of the first Land Act. +For several generations an Irishman was not allowed to own a horse +of greater value than five pounds; and every Irish agriculturist who +improved the miserable cabin which he was supposed to share with his +pigs and his fowl, might rest certain that his rent would be raised out +of all proportion to his improvements. In these circumstances it can +easily be understood that it was accounted a successful joke for a man +who was doing tolerably well to put on a poor face when in the presence +of an inquiry agent of the absent landlord--to run down all his own +efforts and to depreciate generally his holding, and thus to save +himself from the despicable treatment which was meted out to the +unfortunate people by the conquerors of their country. + +It is not necessary to do more than make these suggestions to a +scientific investigator who may be disposed to devote some time to the +question of the origin of certain forms of Irish humour; it is enough +for us, in considering the mystery of that typical Irishman, Oliver +Goldsmith, to know that such forms of humour as we have specified have +an actual existence. Such knowledge is a powerful illuminant to a reader +of Boswell's and Beattie's stories of the stupidity of Goldsmith. A fine +flood of light is thrown upon the apparent mystery of the inspiration +of this idiot--of this man “who wrote like an angel and talked like poor +poll.” + +Goldsmith was just too successful in maintaining that gravity which is +the very essence of those forms of humour in which he was constantly +indulging for his own satisfaction; the mask of gravity was such a good +fit that the short-sighted people who were around him never penetrated +it. He was making fools of the people about him, never giving a thought +to the possibility that they would transmit to posterity the impression +which his attitude conveyed to them, which was that he was a shallow +fool. + +Of course, it would be as absurd to contend that Goldsmith never made a +fool of himself as it would be to assume that Johnson never made a fool +of himself, or that Boswell ever failed to do so. The occasions upon +which he made himself ridiculous must have been numerous, but out of the +many incidents which Boswell and Beattie and Cooke and the others bring +forward as proofs of his stupidity there are few that will not bear to +be interpreted as instances of his practice of a form of humour well +known in Ireland. If his affectation of chagrin at the admiration given +to the Panton Street puppets, followed by the boast, “I could do it as +well myself,” was not humorous, then indeed there is nothing humorous +under the sun. If his object of setting the room roaring with laughter +was not achieved the night when at the club he protested that the +oratory of Burke was nothing--that all oratory, as a matter of fact, was +only a knack--and forthwith stood upon a chair and began to stutter, +all that can be said is that the famous club at Gerrard Street was more +stolid than could be believed. If his strutting about the room where he +and his friends were awaiting a late-comer to dinner, entreating +Johnson and the rest to pay particular attention to the cut of his new +peach-bloom coat, and declaring that Filby, his tailor, had told him +that when any one asked him who had made the garment he was not to +forget Filby's address, did not help materially to enliven the tedium +of that annoying wait, all that can be said is that Thrale, as well as +Boswell, must have been of the party. + +If a novelist, anxious to depict a typical humorous Irishman, were to +show his hero acting as Boswell says Goldsmith acted, would not every +reader acknowledge that he was true to the character of a comical +Irishman? If a playwriter were to put the scene on the stage, would +any one in the audience fail to see that the Goldsmith of the piece was +fooling? Every one in the club--Boswell best of all--was aware of the +fact that Goldsmith had the keenest admiration for Burke, and that +he would be the last man in the world to decry his powers. As for the +peach-bloom coat, it had been the butt of much jesting on the part of +his friends; the elder of the Miss Hornecks had written him a letter of +pretty “chaff” about it, all of which he took in good part. He may have +bought the coat originally because he liked the tint of the velvet; but +assuredly when he found that it could be made the subject of a jest he +did not hesitate to jest upon it himself. How many times have we not +seen in Ireland a man behave in exactly the same way under similar +conditions--a boisterous young huntsman who had put on pink for the +first time, and was strutting with much pride before an admiring group +of servants, every one of whom had some enthusiastic remark to make +about the fit of the coat, until at last the youth, pointing out the +perfection of the gilt buttons, murmured: “Oh, but isn't this a great +day for Ireland!” + +What a pity it was that Mr. Boswell had not been present at such a +scene! Can we not hear his comments upon the character of the young man +who had actually been so carried away by his vanity that he was heard to +express the opinion that the fortunes of his country would be materially +affected by the fact of the buttons of his new coat being gilt? (It +was this same Mr. Boswell, the critic of Goldsmith's all too attractive +costume, who, when going to see Pitt for the first time, put on Corsican +native dress, pretending that he did so in order to interest Pitt in +General Paoli.) + +In reading these accounts of Goldsmith's ways and the remarks of his +associates it must be noticed that some of these gentlemen had now and +again an uneasy impression that there was more in the poet's stupidity +than met the eye. Sir Joshua Reynolds was his closest friend, and it was +the business of the painter to endeavour to get below the surface of +his sitters. The general idea that prevails in the world is that he +was rather successful in his attempts to reproduce, not merely their +features, but their characters as well; and Sir Joshua saw enough +beneath the rude exterior of the man to cause him to feel toward +Goldsmith as he felt for none of his other friends. When the news of his +death was brought to the painter, he laid down his brushes and spent the +day in seclusion. When it is remembered that he spent every day of the +week, not even excepting Sunday, in his studio, the depth of his grief +for the loss of his friend will be understood. Upon more than one +occasion Reynolds asserted that Goldsmith was diverting himself by +trying to make himself out to be more stupid than he really was. Malone, +whose judgment was rarely at fault, whether it was exercised in the +detection of fraud or in the discovery of genius, was in perfect +agreement with Reynolds on this point, and was always ready to +affirm that Boswell was unjust in his remarks upon Goldsmith and the +conclusions to which he came in respect of his character. It is not +necessary for one to have an especially vivid imagination to enable one +to see what was the expression on Malone's face when he came upon the +patronising passage in the _Life of Johnson_ in which Boswell stated +that for his part he was always glad to hear “honest Dr. Goldsmith” + converse. “Puppy!” cried Johnson upon one occasion when a certain +commentator had patronised a text out of all recognition. What would he +have said had he heard Goldsmith patronised by Boswell? + +So far as Goldsmith's actual vanity is concerned, all that can be said +at this time is that had it existed in the offensive form which it +assumes in some of Boswell's stories, Goldsmith would never have won +the friendship of those men and women who were his friends before he had +made a reputation for himself by the publication of _The 'Traveller_. +If he had had an extravagant opinion of his own capacity as a poet, +he would certainly never have suffered Johnson to make an attempt to +improve upon one of his poems; but Goldsmith not only allowed him to do +so, but actually included the lines written by Johnson when he published +the poem. Had he been eaten up by vanity, he would not have gone +wandering down the Mall in St. James's Park while his comedy was being +played for the first time before a delighted house. The really vain man +was the author of The Vanity of Human Wishes, who bought the showiest +set of garments he could find and sat in all their glory in the front +row of the boxes on the night when Garrick produced his tragedy of +_Irene_--Garrick whom he kept out of the Club for nine years simply +because the actor had expressed a wish to become one of the original +members. The really vain man was the one who made his stock story his +account of his conversation with the King in the Royal Library. Every +one sees this now, and every one saw it, except Boswell, when the _Life_ +was flung in the face of a convulsed public, for the public of the year +1791 were as little aware of the real value of the book as the author +was of the true character of his hero and his hero's friend Goldsmith. + +After all, there would be no better way of arriving at a just conclusion +on the subject of Goldsmith's stupidity than by submitting the whole +of the case to an ordinary man accustomed to the many peculiarities of +Irishmen, especially in the exercise of their doubtful gift of humour. +“Here is a man,” we must say, “who became the most intimate friend of +people of title and the dearest friend of many men of brains. When the +most exclusive Club of the day was started his place as a member was not +disputed, even by the man who invented the word 'clubbable,' and knew +what it meant into the bargain; when the Royal Academy of Arts was +started he was invited to become one of its professors. Some of the +wittiest things recorded by the most diligent recorder of witty things +that the world has ever known, were uttered by him. Upon one occasion +when walking among the busts of the poets in Westminster Abbey with a +friend, the latter pointing around said: + +“'_Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis_.' + +“Leaving the Abbey and walking down the Strand to Temple Bar they saw +the heads of the men who had been captured and decapitated for taking +part in the Rebellion of the year 1745, bleaching in the winds in +accordance with the terms of the sentence for high treason. + +“'_Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis_,' murmured the man of +whom we speak. Upon another occasion this same friend of his, who had a +unique reputation for speaking in the most ponderous language, even when +dealing with the simplest matters, asserted that the writing of the +dialogue in some recently published fables where fish were represented +as conversing, was very simple. 'Not so simple at all,' said the other, +'for were you to write them, you would make every minnow talk like a +whale.' + +“In the course of a few years, in addition to compiling histories, which +remained standard educational works for more than a century, and several +other books, he wrote a novel which received the highest praise from the +greatest intellects in Europe, and which is still read with delight by +thousands of people of all nationalities; a poem of which almost every +line is quoted daily in conversation--a poem which contains metaphors +that have been repeated for generations in the Senate, in the Court of +Law, and in the Church; and a play which has been pronounced the truest +comedy in the English language. He died at an early age, and a memorial +of his genius was given a place in Westminster Abbey. The inscription +was written by the most distinguished man of letters in England, and +although highly eulogistic, was considered by the greatest painter in +the world and the greatest orator in the world to fall short of doing +justice to the subject. + +“But, on the other hand, the man of whom we speak was said by a +Scotchman, who himself was occasionally referred to as a cur and +sometimes as an ape, and more than once as a coxcomb, to have been +roused to a frenzy of envy, because some officers, passing through a +square in a French town, looked admiringly at two lovely girls who +were at a window, ignoring him at another window; and again because his +friends spoke with favour of the dexterity of a wooden figure dressed +as a soldier, and yet again (on another authority) because one of +his friends read a passage from Shakespeare, and affirmed that it was +magnificent. Now, would you say,” we should ask the authority to whom we +are supposed to be stating a case--“would you say that this man was in +earnest when, in the first of the instances quoted, he walked up and +down the room in the French hotel asserting 'that although the young +ladies, of whom he was extremely fond, might have their admirers, there +were places where he, too, was given admiration'? Would you say that he +showed ill-temper or wit when, in the second instance, he declared with +warmth that he could toss a halbert quite as well as any wooden figure? +Would you say that----” + +But we should not get any further than this in stating our case to a man +acquainted with the Irish and their humour: he would think that we were +taking a leaf out of the book of Irish humour, and endeavouring to fool +him by asking him to pronounce a grave opinion upon the obvious; he +would not stay to give us a chance of asking him whether he thought that +the temptation of making “Noll” rhyme with “Poll,” was not too great to +be resisted by the greatest farceur of his time, in the presence of a +humorous colleague called Oliver; and whether an impecunious but witty +Irishman begged his greatest friend not to give him the nickname of +Goldy, because his dignity was hurt thereby, or simply because it was +tantalising for one to be called “Goldy,” whose connection with gold was +usually so transitory. + +If people will only read the stories told of poor Goldsmith's vanity, +and envy, and coxcombry, with a handbook of Irish humour beside them, +the conclusion to which they will come must, we think, be that Goldsmith +was an Irishman, and that, on the whole, he made very good fun of +Boswell, who was a Scotsman, but that in the long run Boswell got very +much the better of him. Scotsmen usually laugh last. + + + + +THE BEST COMEDY OF THE CENTURY + +HE occupied one room in the farmhouse--the guest-chamber it had +probably been called when the farm was young. It was a pretty spacious +apartment up one pair of stairs and to the right of the landing, +and from its window there was a pleasing prospect of a paddock with +wheat-fields beyond; there was a drop in the landscape in the direction +of Hendon, and here was a little wood. The farmer's name was Selby, +a married man with a son of sixteen, and younger children, and the +farmhouse was the nearest building to the sixth milestone on the Edgware +Road in the year 1771. + +He was invariably alluded to as “The Gentleman,” and the name did very +well for him, situated as he was in the country; in the town and among +his acquaintances it would serve badly as a means of identification. He +was never referred to as “The Gentleman” of his circle. In his room in +the farmhouse there was his bed and table--a large table littered with +books; it took two chaises to carry his books hither from his rooms in +the Temple. Here he sat and wrote the greater part of the day, and when +he was very busy he would scarcely be able to touch the meals which were +sent up to him from the kitchen. But he was by no means that dignified +type of the man of letters who would shrink from fellowship with the +farmer or his family. He would frequently come down his stairs into +the kitchen and stand with his back to the fire, conversing with the +housewife, and offering her his sympathy when she had made him aware of +the fact that the privilege of being the wife of a substantial farmer, +though undoubtedly fully recognised by the world, carried many troubles +in its train, not only in connection with the vicissitudes of churning, +but in regard to the feeding of the calves, which no man could attend +to properly, and the making of the damson and cowslip wine. He told +her that the best maker of cowslip wine whom he had ever met was a +Mrs. Primrose; her husband had at one time occupied the Vicarage of +Wakefield--he wondered if Mrs. Selby had ever heard of her. Mrs. Selby's +knowledge did not go so far, but she thought that Mrs. Primrose's recipe +must be a good one indeed if it brought forth better results than her +own; and the gentleman said that although he had never tasted Mrs. +Selby's he would still have no hesitation in backing it for flavour, +body, headiness, and all other qualities associated with the +distillation of the cowslip, against the Primrose brand. + +And then he would stare at the gammon in the rafter and mutter some +words, burst into a roar of laughter, and stumble upstairs to his +writing, leaving the good woman to thank Heaven that she was the wife of +a substantial farmer and not of an unsubstantial gentleman of letters, +who could not carry on a simple conversation without having some queer +thought fly across his brain for all the world like one of the swallows +on the water at Hendon, only maybe a deal harder to catch. She knew that +the gentleman had hurried to his paper and ink to complete the capture +of that fleet-flitting thought which had come to him when he had +cast his eyes toward the gammon, though how an idea worth putting on +paper--after a few muttered words and a laugh--could lurk about a common +piece of hog's-flesh was a mystery to her. + +And then upon occasions the gentleman would take a walk abroad; the +farmer's son had more than once come upon him strolling about the fields +with his hands in his pockets and his head bent toward the ground, still +muttering fitfully and occasionally giving a laugh that made the grey +pad in the paddock look up slowly, still munching the grass. Now and +again he paid a visit to his friend Mr. Hugh Boyd at the village of +Kenton, and once he returned late at night from such a visit, without +his shoes. He had left them in a quagmire, he said, and it was only with +a struggle that he saved himself from being engulfed as well. That +was the story of his shoes which young Selby remembered when he was no +longer young. And there was another story which he remembered, but it +related to his slippers. The fact was that the gentleman had acquired +the bad habit of reading in bed, and the table on which his candlestick +stood being several feet away from his pillow, he saved himself the +trouble of rising to extinguish it by flinging a slipper at it. In the +morning the overturned candle was usually found side by side on the +floor with an unaccountably greasy slipper. This method of discharging +an important domestic duty differed considerably from Johnson's way of +compassing the same end. Johnson, being extremely short-sighted, was +compelled to hold the candle close to the book when reading in bed, so +that he had no need to use his slipper as an extinguisher. No, but he +found his pillow very handy for this purpose. When he had finished his +reading he threw away the book and went asleep with his candle under his +pillow. + +The gentleman at the farm went about a good deal in his slippers, and +with his shirt loose at the collar--the latter must have been but one +of his very customary negligences, or Sir Joshua Reynolds would not +have painted him thus. Doubtless the painter had for long recognised the +interpretative value of this loosened collar above that of the velvet +and silk raiment in which the man sometimes appeared before the +wondering eyes of his friends. + +But if the painter had never had an opportunity of studying the +picturesqueness of his negligence, he had more than one chance of doing +so within the farmhouse. + +Young Selby recollected that upon at least one occasion Sir Joshua, his +friend Sir William Chambers, and Dr. Johnson had paid a visit to the +gentleman who lodged at the farm. He remembered that for that reception +of so distinguished a company the farmhouse parlour had been opened and +tea provided. There must have been a good deal of pleasant talk between +the gentleman and his friends at this time, and probably young Selby +heard an astonishingly loud laugh coming from the enormous visitor with +the brown coat and the worsted stockings, as the gentleman endeavoured +to tell his guests something of the strange scenes which he was +introducing in the comedy he was writing in that room upstairs. It was +then a comedy without a name, but young Selby heard that it was produced +the following year in London and that it was called _She Stoops to +Conquer_. + +This was the second year that the gentleman had spent at the farm. The +previous summer he had been engaged on another work which was certainly +as comical as the comedy. It was called _Animated Nature_, and it +comprised some of the most charmingly narrated errors in Natural History +ever offered to the public, and the public have always been delighted +to read pages of fiction if it is only called “Natural History.” This is +one of the best-established facts in the history of the race. After all, +_Animated Nature_ was true to half its title: every page was animated. + +It was while he was so engaged, with one eye on Buffon and another on +his MS., that he found Farmer Selby very useful to him. Farmer Selby +knew a great deal about animals--the treatment of horses under various +conditions, and the way to make pigs pay; he had probably his theories +respecting the profit to be derived from keeping sheep, and how to +feed oxen that are kept for the plough. All such knowledge he must have +placed at the disposal of the author, though the farmer was possibly too +careless an observer of the simple incidents of the fields to be able to +verify Buffon's statement, reproduced in Animated Nature, to the effect +that cows shed their horns every two years; he was probably also +too deficient in the spirit in which a poet sets about the work of +compilation to be able to assent to the belief that a great future +was in store for the zebra when it should become tame and perform the +ordinary duties of a horse. But if the author was somewhat discouraged +in his speculations now and again by Farmer Selby, he did not allow his +fancy as a naturalist to be wholly repressed. He had heard a story of +an ostrich being ridden horsewise in some regions, and of long journeys +being accomplished in this way in incredibly short spaces of time, and +forthwith his imagination enabled him to see the day when this bird +would become as amenable to discipline as the barn-door fowl, though +discharging the tasks of a horse, carrying its rider across England with +the speed of a racer! + +It was while he was engaged on this pleasant work of fancy and +imagination that Mr. Boswell paid him a visit, bringing with him as a +witness Mr. Mickle, the translator of the Lusiad. “The Gentleman” had +gone away for the day, Mrs. Selby explained; but she did not know Mr. +Boswell. She could not prevent him from satisfying his curiosity in +respect of Dr. Goldsmith. He went upstairs to his room, and he was fully +satisfied. He found the walls all scrawled over with outline drawings of +quite a number of animals. Having thus satisfied himself that the author +of _Animated Nature_ was working in a thoroughly conscientious manner he +came away. He records the incident himself, but he does not say whether +or not he was able to recognise any of the animals from their pictures. + +But now it was a professed and not an unconscious comedy that occupied +Dr. Goldsmith. Whatever disappointment he may have felt at the +indifferent success of the first performance of _The Good-Natured +Man_--and he undoubtedly felt some--had been amply redeemed by the money +which accrued to him from the “author's rights” and the sale of the +play; and he had only awaited a little encouragement from the managers +to enable him to begin another comedy. But the managers were not +encouraging, and he was found by his friends one day to be full of +a scheme for the building of a new theatre for the production of new +plays, in order that the existing managers might not be able to carry +on their tyranny any longer. Such a scheme has been revived every decade +since Goldsmith's time, but never with the least success. Johnson, +whose sound sense was rarely at fault, laughed at the poet's project for +bringing down the mighty from their seats, upon which Goldsmith cried: +“Ay, sir, this matter may be nothing to you who can now shelter yourself +behind the corner of your pension,” and he doubtless went on to describe +the condition of the victims of the tyranny of which he complained; but +it is questionable if his doing so effected more than to turn Johnson's +laughter into another and a wider channel. + +But Goldsmith spoke feelingly. He was certainly one of the ablest +writers of the day, but no pension was ever offered to him, though on +every hand bounties were freely bestowed on the most indifferent and +least deserving of authors--men whose names were forgotten before +the end of the century, and during the lifetime of the men themselves +remembered only by the pay clerk to the almoner. + +Of course, the scheme for bringing the managers to their senses never +reached a point of serious consideration; and forthwith Goldsmith began +to illustrate, for the benefit of posterity, the depths to which the +stupidity of the manager of a play-house can occasionally fall. The +public have always had abundant proofs of the managers' stupidity +afforded them in the form of the plays which they produce; but the +history of the production of the most brilliant comedy of the eighteenth +century is practically unique; for it is the history of the stupidity of +a manager doing his best to bring about the failure of a play which he +was producing at his own theatre. He had predicted the failure of the +piece, and it must strike most people that the manager of a theatre who +produces for a failure will be as successful in compassing his end as +a jockey who rides for a fall. Colman believed that he was in the +fortunate position of those prophets who had the realisation of their +predictions in their own hands. He was mistaken in this particular +case. Although he was justified on general principles in assuming his +possession of this power, yet he had made no allowance for the freaks +of genius. He was frustrated in his amiable designs by this incalculable +force--this power which he had treated as a _quantité négligeable_. A +man who has been accustomed all his life to count only on simple ability +in the people about him, is, on suddenly being brought face to face with +genius, like an astronomer who makes out his tables of a new object on +the assumption that it is a fixed star, when all the time it is a comet, +upsetting by its erratic course all his calculations, and demanding to +be reckoned with from a standpoint that applies to itself alone. + +The stars of Colman's theatrical firmament were such as might safely be +counted on; but Goldsmith's genius was not of this order. The manager's +stupidity lay in his blunt refusal to recognise a work of genius when it +was brought to him by a man of genius. + +It has been said that the central idea of the plot of _She Stoops to +Conquer_ was suggested by an incident that came under Goldsmith's notice +before he left Ireland. However this may be, it cannot be denied +that the playing of the practical joke of Tony Lumpkin upon the two +travellers is “very Irish.” It would take a respectable place in the +list of practical jokes of the eighteenth century played in Ireland. In +that island a collector of incidents for a comedy during the past two +centuries would require to travel with a fat notebook--so would the +collector of incidents for a tragedy. Goldsmith's task may not have been +to invent the central idea, but to accomplish the much more difficult +duty of making that incident seem plausible, surrounding it with +convincing scenery and working it out by the aid of the only characters +by which it could be worked out with a semblance of being natural. This +was a task which genius only could fulfil. The room whose walls bore +ample testimony to its occupant's sense of the comedy of a writer's +life, witnessed the supreme achievement in the “animated nature” of +_She Stoops to Conquer_. It contains the two chief essentials to a true +comedy--animation and nature. + +It is certain that the play was constructed and written by Goldsmith +without an adviser. He was possibly shrewd enough to know that if +he were to take counsel with any of his friends--Garrick, Johnson, +Reynolds, or Colman--he would not be able to write the play which he had +a mind to write. The artificial comedy had a vogue that year, and though +it may have been laughed at in private by people of judgment, yet few of +those within the literary circle of which Johnson was the acknowledged +centre, would have had the courage to advise a poet writing a piece in +hopes of making some money, to start upon a plot as farcical as Nature +herself. At that period of elegance in art everything that was natural +was pronounced vulgar. Shakespeare himself had to be made artificial +before he could be played by Garrick. Goldsmith must have known that his +play would be called vulgar, and that its chances of being accepted and +produced by either of the managers in London would be doubtful; but, all +the same, he wrote the piece in accordance with his own personal views, +and many a time during the next two years he must have felt that he was +a fool for doing so. + +However this may be, the play was finished some time in the summer +of 1771; and on September 7th the author was back at his rooms in the +Temple and writing to his friend Bennet Langton, whom he had promised +to visit at his place in Lincolnshire. “I have been almost wholly in the +country at a farmer's house, quite alone, trying to write a comedy. It +is now finished, but when or how it will be acted, or whether it will be +acted at all, are questions I cannot resolve,” he told Langton. + +[Illustration: 0241] + +The misgivings which he had at this time were well founded. He +considered that the fact of his having obtained from Colman a promise to +read any play that he might write constituted an obligation on his part +to submit this piece to Colman rather than to Garrick. He accordingly +placed it in Colman's hands; but it is impossible to say if the work of +elaborate revision which Goldsmith began in the spring of 1772 was +due to the comments made by this manager on the first draft or to the +author's reconsideration of his work as a whole. But the amended version +was certainly in Colman's hands in the summer of this year (1772). +The likelihood is that Colman would have refused point-blank to have +anything to do with the comedy after he had read the first draft had it +not been that just at this time Goldsmith's reputation was increased +to a remarkable extent by the publication of his Histories. It would be +difficult to believe how this could be, but, as usual, we are indebted +to Mr. Boswell for what information we have on this point. Boswell had +been for some time out of London, and on returning he expressed his +amazement at the celebrity which Goldsmith had attained. “Sir,” he cried +to Johnson, “Goldsmith has acquired more fame than all the officers last +war who were not generals!” + +“Why, sir,” said Johnson, “you will find ten thousand fit to do what +they did before you find one who does what Goldsmith has done”--a bit of +dialogue that reminds one of the reply of the avaricious _prima donna_ +when the Emperor refused to accede to her terms on the plea that were +he to pay her her price she would be receiving more than any of his +marshals. “Eh bien, mon sire. Let your marshals sing to you.” + +At any rate, Colman got the play--and kept it. He would give the author +no straightforward opinion as to its prospects in his hands. He refused +to say when he would produce it--nay, he declined to promise that he +would produce it at all. Goldsmith was thus left in torment for month +after month, and the effect of the treatment that he received was to +bring on an illness, and the effect of his illness was to sink him to a +depth of despondency that even Goldsmith had never before sounded. The +story told by Cooke of his coming upon the unhappy man in a coffeehouse, +and of the latter's attempt to give him some of the details of the plot +of the comedy, speaks for itself. “I shook my head,” wrote Cooke, +“and said that I was afraid the audience, under their then sentimental +impressions, would think it too broad and farcical for comedy.” This was +poor comfort for the author; but after a pause he shook the man by the +hand, saying piteously: “I am much obliged to you, my dear friend, for +the candour of your opinion, but it is all I can do; for alas! I find +that my genius, if ever I had any, has of late totally deserted me.” + +This exclamation is the most piteous that ever came from a man of +genius; and there can be no doubt of the sincerity of its utterance, +for it was during these miserable months that he began a new novel, but +found himself unable to get further than a few chapters. And all this +time, when, in order to recover his health, he should have had no +worries of a lesser nature, he was being harassed by the trivial +cares of a poor, generous man's life--those mosquito vexations which, +accumulating, become more intolerable than a great calamity. + +He had once had great hopes of good resulting from Colman's taking up +the management of Covent Garden, and had written congratulations to him +within the first week of his entering into possession of the theatre. +A very different letter he had now to write to the same man. Colman had +endeavoured to evade the responsibility of giving him a direct answer +about the play. He clearly meant that the onus of refusing it should lie +at the door of some one else. + +“Dear Sir,” wrote the author in January, 1773, “I entreat you'll release +me from that state of suspense in which I have been kept for a long +time. Whatever objections you have made or shall make to my play I will +endeavour to remove and not argue about them. To bring in any new judges +either of its merits or faults I can never submit to. Upon a former +occasion when my other play was before Mr. Garrick he offered to bring +me before Mr. Whitehead's tribunal, but I refused the proposal with +indignation. I hope I shall not experience as hard treatment from you +as from him.... For God's sake take the play and let us make the best +of it, and let me have the same measure at least which you have given as +bad plays as mine.” + +Upon receiving this letter, Colman at once returned to him the +manuscript of the play, and on the author's unfolding it he found that +on the back of almost every page, on the blank space reserved for +the prompter's hieroglyphs, some sneering criticism was scrawled. To +emphasise this insult Colman had enclosed a letter to the effect that if +the author was still unconvinced that the piece would be a failure, he, +Colman, would produce it. + +Immediately on receipt of this contemptible effort at contempt Goldsmith +packed up the play and sent it to Garrick at Drury Lane. That same +evening, however, he met Johnson and told him what he had done; and +Johnson, whose judgment on the practical side of authorship was rarely +at fault, assured him that he had done wrong and that he must get the +manuscript back without delay, and submit to Colman's sneers for the +sake of having the comedy produced. Upon Johnson's promising to +visit Colman, and to urge upon him the claims of Goldsmith to his +consideration, the distracted author wrote to Drury Lane: + +“Upon more mature deliberation and the advice of a sensible friend, +I begin to think it indelicate in me to throw upon you the odium of +confirming Mr. Colman's sentence. I therefore request that you will send +my play by my servant back; for having been assured of having it acted +at the other house, though I confess yours in every respect more to my +wish, yet it would be folly in me to forgo an advantage which lies in +my power of appealing from Mr. Colman's opinion to the judgment of the +town.” + +Goldsmith got back the play, and Johnson explained to him, as he did +some years later to Reynolds, that the solicitations which he had made +to Colman to put it in rehearsal without delay amounted almost to force. +At any rate, the play was announced and the parts distributed to the +excellent company which Colman controlled. It was soon proved that he +controlled some members of this company only too well. The spirit in, +which he set about the discharge of his duties as a manager was apparent +to every one during the earliest rehearsals. Johnson, writing to an +American correspondent, mentioned that Colman made no secret of his +belief that the play would be a failure. Far from it. He seems to have +taken the most extraordinary trouble to spread his belief far and wide; +and when a manager adopts such a course, what chance, one may ask, has +the play? What chance, the players could not but ask, have the players? + +This was possibly the only occasion in the history of the English drama +on which such questions could be asked. If managers have a fault at +all--a question which is not yet ripe for discussion--it has never +been in the direction of depreciating a play which they are about to +produce--that is, of course, outside the author's immediate circle. It +is only when the play has failed that they sometimes allow that it was +a bad one, and incapable of being saved even by the fine acting of the +company and the sumptuous mounting. + +But Colman controlled his company all too well, and after a day or two +it was announced that the leading lady, the accomplished Mrs. Abington, +had retired from the part of Miss Hardcastle; that Smith, known as +Gentleman Smith, had refused to play Young Marlow; and that Woodward, +the most popular comedian in the company, had thrown up the part of Tony +Lumpkin. + +Here, in one day, it seemed that Colman had achieved his aims, and the +piece would have to be withdrawn by the author. This was undoubtedly +the managerial view of the situation which had been precipitated by +the manager, and it was shared by those of the author's friends who +understood his character as indifferently as did Colman. They must all +have been somewhat amazed when the author quietly accepted the situation +and affirmed that he would rather that his play were damned by bad +players than merely saved by good acting. One of the company who had the +sense to perceive the merits of the piece, Shuter, the comedian, who was +cast for the part of old Hardcastle, advised Goldsmith to give Lewes, +the harlequin, the part of Young Marlow; Quick, a great favourite with +the public, was to act Tony Lumpkin; and, after a considerable amount +of wrangling, Mrs. Bulkley, lately Miss Wilford, who had been the +Miss Richland of _The Good-Natured Man_, accepted the part which the +capricious Mrs. Abington resigned. + +Another start was made with the rehearsals of the piece, and further +efforts were made by Colman to bring about the catastrophe which he +had predicted. He refused to let a single scene be painted for the +production, or to supply a single new dress; his ground being that the +money spent in this way would be thrown away, for the audience would +never allow the piece to proceed beyond the second act. + +But happily Dr. Johnson had his reputation as a prophet at stake as well +as Colman, and he was singularly well equipped by Nature for enforcing +his views on any subject. He could not see anything of what was going +on upon the stage; but his laugh at the succession of humorous things +spoken by the company must have had an inspiring effect upon every +one, except Colman. Johnson's laugh was the strongest expression of +appreciation of humour of which the century has a record. It was epic. +To say that Johnson's laugh at the rehearsals of _She Stoops to Conquer_ +saved the piece would perhaps be going too far. But can any one question +its value as a counteracting agent to Colman's depressing influence on +the stage? Johnson was the only man in England who could make Colman +(and every one else) tremble, and his laugh had the same effect upon +the building in which it was delivered. It was the Sirocco against a wet +blanket. When one thinks of the feeling of awe which was inspired by +the name of Dr. Johnson, not only during the last forty years of +the eighteenth century, but well into the nineteenth, one begins to +appreciate the value of his vehement expression of satisfaction upon +the people on the stage. Goldsmith dedicated his play to Johnson, and +assuredly the compliment was well earned. Johnson it was who compelled +Colman to produce the piece, and Johnson it was who encouraged the +company to do their best for it, in spite of the fact that they were +all aware that their doing their best for it would be resented by their +manager. + +Reynolds also, another valuable friend to the author, sacrificed several +of his busiest hours in order to attend the rehearsals. His sister's +sacrifices to the same end were perhaps not quite so impressive, nor +were those made by that ingenious “country gentleman,” Mr. Cradock, +referred to by Walpole. Miss Horneck, his beautiful “Jessamy Bride,” + and her sister, lately married to Mr. Bunbury, bore testimony to the +strength of their friendship for the poet, by accompanying him daily to +the theatre. + +But, after all, these good friends had not many opportunities of +showing their regard for him in the same way; for the play must have had +singularly few rehearsals. Scarcely a month elapsed between the date of +Colman's receiving the manuscript on its being returned by Garrick and +the production of the piece. It is doubtful if more than ten rehearsals +took place after the parts were recast. If the manager kept the author +in suspense for eighteen months respecting the fate of his play, he +endeavoured to make up for his dilatoriness now. It was announced for +Monday, March 15th, and, according to Northcote, it was only on the +morning of that day that the vexed question of what the title should be +was settled. For some time the author and his friends had been talking +the matter over. “We are all in labour for a name to Goldy's play,” + wrote Johnson. _The Mistakes of a Night, The Old House a New Inn, and +The Belle's Stratagem_ were suggested in turn. It was Goldsmith himself +who gave it the title under which it was produced. + +On the afternoon of this day, March 15th, the author was the guest at +a dinner-party organised in his honour. It is easy to picture this +particular function. The truth was that Colman's behaviour had broken +the spirit not only of the author, but of the majority of his friends +as well. They would all make an effort to cheer up poor Goldsmith; but +every one knows how cheerless a function is one that is organised with +such charitable intentions. It is not necessary that one should have +been in a court of law watching the face of the prisoner in the dock +when the jury have retired to consider their verdict in order to +appreciate the feelings of Goldsmith when his friends made their attempt +to cheer him up. The last straw added on to the cheerlessness of the +banquet was surely to be found in the accident that every one wore +black! The King of Sardinia had died a short time before, and the Court +had ordered mourning to be worn for some weeks for this potentate. +Johnson was very nearly outraging propriety by appearing in coloured +raiment, but George Steevens, who called for him to go to the dinner, +was fortunately in time to prevent such a breach of etiquette. “I would +not for ten pounds have seemed so retrograde to any general observance,” + cried Johnson in offering his thanks to his benefactor. Happily the +proprieties were saved; but what must have been the effect of the +appearance of these gentlemen in black upon the person whom they meant +to cheer up! + +Reynolds told his pupil, Northcote, what effect these resources of +gaiety had upon Goldsmith. His mouth became so parched that he could +neither eat nor drink, nor could he so much as speak in acknowledgment +of the well-meant act of his friends. When the party after this +entertainment set out for the theatre they must have suggested, all +being in black, a more sombre procession than one is accustomed to +imagine when conjuring up a picture of an eighteenth-century theatre +party. + +And Goldsmith was missing! + +Unfortunately Boswell was not present, or we should not be left in doubt +as to how it happened that no one thought of taking charge of Goldsmith. +But no one seemed to think of him, and so his disappearance was never +noticed. His friends arrived at the theatre and found their places, +Johnson in the front row of the boxes; and the curtain was rung up, +and Goldsmith was forgotten under the influence of that comedy which +constitutes his greatest claim to be remembered by theatre-goers of +to-day. + +He was found by an acquaintance a couple of hours later wandering in the +Mall of St. James's Park, and was only persuaded to go to the theatre by +its being represented to him that his services might be required should +it be found necessary to alter something at the last moment. + +Now, among the members of that distinguished audience there was a man +named Cumberland. He was the author of _The West Indian_ and several +other plays, and he was regarded as one of the leaders of the +sentimental school, the demise of which was satirised in the prologue to +this very play which was being performed. Cumberland was a man who could +never see a particle of good in anything that was written by another. It +was a standing entertainment with Garrick to “draw him on” by suggesting +that some one had written a good scene in a play, or was about to +produce an interesting book. In a moment Cumberland was up, protesting +against the assumption that the play or the book could be worth +anything. So wide a reputation had he for decrying every other author +that when Sheridan produced _The Critic; or, the Tragedy Rehearsed_, his +portrait was immediately recognised in Sir Fretful Plagiary. + +What must have been the feelings of this man when, from the first, the +play, which he had come to wreck, was received by the whole house with +uproarious applause? Well, we don't know what he felt like, but we know +what he looked like. One of the newspapers described him as “looking +glum,” and another contained a rhymed epigram describing him as weeping. +Goldsmith entered the theatre by the stage door at the beginning of the +fifth act, where Tony Lumpkin and his mother appear close to their +own house, and the former pretends that the chaise has broken down on +Crackscull Common. He had no sooner got into the “wings” than he heard +a hiss. “What's that, sir?” he whispered to Colman, who was beside him. +“Psha, sir! what signifies a squib when we have been sitting on a barrel +of gunpowder all night?” was the reply. The story is well known; and +its accuracy has never been im peached. And the next day it was well +known that that solitary hiss came from Cumberland, the opinion that +it was due to the malevolence of Macpherson, whose pretensions to the +discovery of _Ossian_ were exposed by Johnson, being discredited. + +But the effect of Colman's brutality and falsehood into the bargain had +not a chance of lasting long. The hiss was received with cries of “Turn +him out!” and, with an addition to the tumultuous applause of all the +house, Goldsmith must have been made aware in another instant of the +fact that he had written the best comedy of the day and that Colman had +lied to him. From the first there had been no question of sitting on a +barrel of gunpowder. Such applause could never greet the last act of a +play the first four acts of which had been doubtful. He must have felt +that at last he had conquered--that he had by one more achievement +proved to his own satisfaction--and he was hard to satisfy--that those +friends of his who had attributed genius to him had not been mistaken; +that those who, like Johnson and Percy and Reynolds, had believed in +him before he had written the work that made him famous, had not been +misled. + +The next day all London was talking of _She Stoops to Conquer_ and of +Colman. Horace Walpole, who detested Goldsmith, and who found when +he went to see the play that it was deplorably vulgar, mentioned in a +letter which he wrote to Lady Ossory on the morning after the production +that it had “succeeded prodigiously,” and the newspapers were full of +epigrams at the expense of the manager. If Colman had had the sense to +keep to himself his forebodings of the failure of the piece, he would +not have left himself open to these attacks; but, as has been said, he +took as much pains to decry the coming production as he usually did to +“puff” other pieces. It would seem that every one had for several +days been talking about nothing else save the coming failure of Dr. +Goldsmith's comedy. Only on this assumption can one now understand the +poignancy of the “squibs”--some of them partook largely of the character +of his own barrel of gunpowder--levelled against Colman. He must have +been quite amazed at the clamour that arose against him; it became too +much for his delicate skin, and he fled to Bath to get out of the way +of the scurrilous humourists who were making him a target for their +pop-guns. But even at Bath he failed to find a refuge. Writing to Mrs. +Thrale, Johnson said: “Colman is so distressed with abuse that he has +solicited Goldsmith to take him off the rack of the newspapers.” + +It was characteristic of Goldsmith that he should do all that was +asked of him and that he should make no attempt, either in public or in +private, to exult in his triumph over the manager. The only reference +which he made to his sufferings while Colman was keeping him on the rack +was in a letter which he wrote to his friend Cradock, who had written an +epilogue for the play, to explain how it was that this epilogue was not +used at the first representation. After saying simply, “The play has +met with a success beyond your expectation or mine,” he makes his +explanation, and concludes thus: “Such is the history of my stage +adventure, and which I have at last done with. I cannot help saying +that I am very sick of the stage, and though I believe I shall get +three tolerable benefits, yet I shall on the whole be a loser, even in +a pecuniary light; my ease and comfort I certainly lost while it was in +agitation.” + +Goldsmith showed that he bore no grudge against Colman; but the English +stage should bear him a grudge for his treatment of one of the few +authors of real genius who have contributed to it for the benefit of +posterity. If _She Stoops to Conquer_ had been produced when it first +came into the manager's hands, Goldsmith would certainly not have +written the words just quoted. What would have been the result of +his accepting the encouragement of its production it is, of course, +impossible to tell; but it is not going too far to assume that the +genius which gave the world _The Good-Natured Man_ and _She Stoops to +Conquer_ would have been equal to the task of writing a third comedy +equal in merit to either of these. Yes, posterity owes Colman a grudge. + + + + +THE JESSAMY BRIDE + +A PERSONAL NOTE + +FOR some time after the publication of my novel _The Jessamy Bride_ +my time was fully occupied by replying to correspondents--strangers +to me--who were good enough to take an interest in Mary Horneck, the +younger of the two charming sisters with whom Goldsmith associated +for several years of his life on terms of the warmest affection. The +majority of these communications were of a very interesting character. +Only one correspondent told me I should not have allowed Oliver +Goldsmith to die so young, though two expressed the opinion that I +should have made Goldsmith marry Mary Horneck; nearly all the remaining +communications which were addressed to me contained inquiries as to the +origin of the sobriquet applied to Mary Horneck in Goldsmith's epistle. +To each and to all such inquiries I have, alas! been compelled to return +the humiliating reply that I have not yet succeeded in finding out what +was the origin of the family joke which made Goldsmith's allusions to +“The Jessamy Bride” and “Little Comedy” intelligible to the “Devonshire +Crew” of Hornecks and Reynoldses. I have searched volume after volume +in the hope of having even the smallest ray of light thrown upon this +matter, but I have met with no success. I began to feel, as every post +brought me a sympathetic inquiry as to the origin of the pet name, +that I should take the bold step of confessing my ignorance to the one +gentleman who, I was confident, could enlighten it. “If Dr. Brewer does +not know why Mary Horneck was called 'The Jessamy Bride,' no one alive +can know it,” was what I said to myself. Before I could write to +Dr. Brewer the melancholy new's came of his death; and very shortly +afterwards I got a letter from his daughter, Mrs. Brewer Hayman, in +which she mentioned that her lamented father had been greatly interested +in my story, and asked if I could tell her what was the meaning of the +phrase. + +It does certainly seem extraordinary that no biographer of Goldsmith, +of Reynolds, or of Burke, should have thought it worth while writing a +letter to the “Jessamy Bride” herself to ask her why she was so called +by Goldsmith. The biographers of Goldsmith and the editors of Boswell +seem to have had no hesitation in stating that Mary Horneck was the +“Jessamy Bride,” and that her elder sister was “Little Comedy”; but +they do not appear to have taken a wider view of their duties than was +comprised in this bare statement. The gossipy Northcote was surely in +the secret, and he might have revealed the truth without detracting from +the interest of the many inaccuracies in his volume. Northcote had +an opportunity of seeing daily the portrait of Mary which Sir Joshua +painted, and which hung in his studio until the day of his death, when +it passed into the possession of the original, who had become Mrs. Gwyn, +having married Colonel, afterwards General, Gwyn. + +But although up to the present I have not obtained even as much evidence +as would be termed a clue by the sanguine officers of Scotland Yard, as +to the origin of the sobriquet, I am not without hope that some day one +of my sympathetic correspondents will be able to clear up the matter for +me. I am strengthened in this hope by the fact that among those who were +kind enough to write to me, was a lady who can claim relationship +to Mary Horneck, and who did not hesitate to send to me a bundle of +letters, written in the early part of the century by the “Jessamy +Bride” herself, with permission to copy and print any portion of the +correspondence that I might consider of interest. Of this privilege I +gladly avail myself, feeling sure that the interest which undoubtedly +attaches to many portions of the letters will exculpate me for the +intrusion of a personal note into these papers. + +The grandfather of my correspondent (Mrs. Cor-ballis, of Ratrath, co. +Meath, Ireland) was first cousin to the Hornecks. He was the Rev. George +Mangles, chaplain to George III when Mrs. Gwyn (Mary Horneck) was Woman +of the Bedchamber to the Queen. As General Gwyn was Equerry to the King +it can easily be understood that the two families should be on terms of +the most intimate friendship. My correspondent mentions that her mother, +who only died thirteen years ago, was almost every year a visitor at the +house of Mrs. Gwyn, at Kew, and said that she retained her beauty up +to the very last. Confirmation of this statement is to be found in a +passage in the “Jerningham Letters.” Lady Bedingfeld's Journal contains +the following entry opposite the date “September 19th, 1833”: + +“When the Queen returned to the drawing-room we found several ladies +there. I observed a very old lady with striking remains of beauty, and +whose features seemed very familiar to me. I felt to know her features +by heart, and at last I heard her name, Mrs. Gwyn, the widow of a +General, and near ninety! I had never seen her before, but when I was a +girl my uncle the Poet, gave me a portrait of her, copied from Sir Jos. +Reynolds, small size in a Turkish costume and attitude. This picture is +still at Cossey, and of course must be very like her since it led me to +find her out.” + +[Illustration: 0261] + +The picture referred to must certainly have been “very like” the +original, for it was painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds in 1772, sixty-one +years before. The engraving of it cannot but make one feel how exquisite +must have been the charm of Goldsmith's young friend, who survived him +by sixty-six years; for Mrs. Gywn did not die until 1840. + +Very pathetic indeed it is to look at the sweet girlish face, which +appears in this portrait and also in that of the two sisters done in +chalk by the same master-hand, and then to read some of the passages in +the letters in which the writer refers to her old age and feebleness. +Happily, with Lady Bedingfeld's diary before us, our imagination is not +largely drawn on for a picture of the “Jessamy Bride” broken down by age +and infirmity. The woman who can be easily recognised by a stranger +at seventy-nine by her likeness to a portrait painted at the age of +eighteen, would make Ninon de l'Enclos envious. + +The letters are written to Mrs. Mangles, the widow of the Chaplain +to George III, and the majority touch upon private matters with +sprightliness, and occasionally a delicate humour, such as Goldsmith +would certainly have appreciated. We seem to hear, while reading these +passages, faint echoes of the girlish laughter which must have rung +through that room in the inn at Calais, when Goldsmith paced up and +down in a mock fury because two officers passing the window looked more +eagerly at the girls than at him. + +It is obvious, however, that the Queen's Woman of the Bedchamber would +write occasionally to her friend on some topic of public interest; +consequently we find, in the course of the correspondence, many passages +which throw a flood of light upon the incidents of the day. In a letter +dated April 10th, 1818, + +Mrs. Gwyn describes with great sprightliness the wedding of the +Princess Elizabeth, the third daughter of George III, with Prince +Hesse-Hombourgh, which took place three days before: + +“I delayed to write till after the marriage to tell you about it, as +you seemed to wish it. We were all appointed at seven o'clock in +the evening, when I went as smart as I could make myself. I wore the +lavender sattin robe, the same you saw me wear at Court, as the shape +was the same, and it _saved buying_, trimmed with silver, a new white +sattin petticoat, with a white net and silver over it, no hoop, but a +Court head dress, and lappets down. The Company consisting of the great +officers of state, and ambassadors and their wives, and the different +households were the Company. + +“At 8 all were assembled when the Royal family in procession according +to their rank, went into the great drawing-room in the Queen's house. +The Duke of York led the Queen, the Prince Regent not being quite +recovered of his gout, and it is said the remembrance of his poor +daughter's marriage was too painful to him to undertake it. Before the +state canopy was set a fine communion table, red velvet and gold, all +the gold plate belonging to that service arranged behind it, and 3 +Bishops and other clergymen standing behind the table, it looked very +magnificent. Then came the _Hero_, the Prince Hesse Hombourgh, he went +up to the table and stood there, I believe 10 minutes alone, he looked +well a manly unembarassed figure, then walked in the Bride glittering +with silver and diamonds, and really looked very handsome, and her +behaviour and manner was as well as possible, grace and quiet, when she +knelt she wept, and then he approached nearer her in case her emotion +would require his care, which happily was not the case. The Duke of York +gave her away, and behaved very bad. The Prince Hombourgh thought when +he had said I will very loud and distinct, all was done, but the Arch +Bishop desired him to repeat after him, which he was therefore obliged +to do. He cannot speak English and made such works of it, it was then +the Duke of York laughed so, he was obliged to stuff his handkerchief +in his mouth to conceal it. He promised to love her. When all was over +he saluted his bride on each side the face, and then her hand, with a +good-natured frank manner, then led her to the Queen, whose hand only he +kissed, the rest of the Royal family he embraced after his own fashion, +and he led her off with a very good air, and did not seem to trouble his +head about his _English performance_.” The Princess Elizabeth--the shy +young bride who was so overcome with emotion--had scarcely more than +passed her forty-ninth year when she was borne to the altar, and the +hero of the hour was, we learn from other sources than Mrs. Gwyn's +letters, most unheroically sick when driving away in a close carriage +with his bride. + +The Prince Regent's daughter, the Princess Charlotte, had died the +previous year, hence the marrying panic which seized all the other +members of the Royal Family, lest the dynasty should become extinct. It +is pleasing to reflect that such gloomy apprehensions have since been +amply averted. + +Regarding the death of the Princess Charlotte Mrs. Gwyn writes: + +“... While I was at Oatlands the Prince Leopold came to see the Duchess +and staid there 3 hours, no one but the Duchess saw him--she told me he +is more composed in his manners now when seen by people in general but +with her alone his grief seems the same and he is gratified by being +allowed to vent it to one who feels for him and knows how to soothe his +mind. I can not doubt the Princess's life and his child's were thrown +away, by mismanagement--she was so bled and starved she had no strength +left--her own fortitude and energy supported her till nature could no +more. I could tell you much on the subject but it would take up too much +in a letter and besides _it is over_. Dr. Crofts thought he was doing +for the best no doubt--It comes to what _I_ always say of them--they +can't do much and are very often wrong in their opinions as you can +vouch....” + +In another letter Mrs. Gywn's adopted daughter was her amanuensis. It +contains many paragraphs of interest, especially to present-day readers. +The girl writes: + +“Mamma was of course summoned to attend the Duke of Cambridge's Wedding, +but she was not in the room when the Ceremony was performed as before, +on account of the Queen having been ill. Mamma admires the Duchess of +Cambridge very much: though she is not exactly handsome, she is very +pleasing, and a pretty figure, but I understand she must have a new +stay maker to set her up etc. The Duke of Kent and his bride are now +expected. The Duke of Clarence it is expected will be married shortly +afterwards. We hear the Duchess of Kent is a little woman with a +handsome face, and the Duchess of Clarence uncommonly ugly. We went to +Windsor about a month ago to see Princess Sophia as the Queen was not +there, and Princess Sophia has a small party every night. We were there +three days, and Mamma went to the party every evening, and indeed it was +very very dull for her as they play one pool of Commerce, and then they +go to a game called Snip, Snap, Snorum, and which Mamma could not play +at well without a great deal of trouble to herself, therefore she was +obliged to look on for perhaps an hour and half which you may imagine +was terrible for her not hearing a word. I was much pleased in one +respect while I was there by seeing Dear Prince Leopold whom I had +never seen before, and who must be to every body an object of so much +interest. He looked to me the picture of grief and melancholy, but those +who have seen him repeatedly since his misfortune say he improves every +time they see him. Mrs. C.... went one day to see Claremont and was very +much pleased. All remains as Princess Charlotte left it, but nobody sees +her room in which she died but himself, even her combs and brushes are +untouched, and her hat and cloak are where she laid them the day before +she died. There are models of her hand and arm one in particular as it +is his hand clasped in hers. I suppose you have often heard she had a +very beautiful hand and arm, but I will not go on, on so melancholy a +subject; yet I am sure it must interest you.” + +The Princess Sophia, who instituted the fascinating game referred to in +this letter, was, of course, the fifth daughter of George III. + +In another letter reference is made to a certain scandal, which Mrs. +Gwyn contradicts most vehemently. Even nowadays this particular bit of +gossip is remembered by some persons; but at the risk of depriving these +pages of the piquancy which attaches to a Court scandal, I will not +quote it, but conclude this Personal Note with what seems to me a most +pathetic account of the dying king: + +“We continue in a state of great anxiety about our dear King, whose +state is distressing. Certainly no hope of recovery, and the chances of +his continuance very doubtful. His death may be any day, any hour, or he +may continue some _little_ time longer, it depends on nature holding +out against sore disease, which afflicts him universally, and occasions +great suffering, this is heartbreaking to hear! and his patience and +courage and sweet and kind behaviour to all about him is most touching, +so affectionate to his friends and attendants, and thankful for their +attention and feeling for him. He will hold the hand of the Duchess of +Gloster or S. H. Halford for an hour at a time out of tenderness, till +excessive suffering ends it. He wishes to die in peace and charity with +all the world, and has reconciled himself to the Duke of Sussex. He +hopes his people have found him a merciful King. He says he never hurt +anyone, and that, he may truly say as his first wish to _all_ was good +and benevolent, and ever ready to forgive.” + + + + +THE AMAZING ELOPEMENT + +ON a certain evening in March, 1772, the fashionable folk of Bath +were as earnestly on pleasure bent as they were wont to be at this +season--and every other. The Assembly Rooms were open, a performance was +going on at the theatre, the Cave of Harmony was as musical as Pyrrha's +Grotto, a high-class concert was taking place under the conductorship of +the well-known Mr. Linley, and the Countess of Huntingdon was holding a +prayer meeting. For people who took their diversions _à la carte_, there +was a varied and an abundant menu. Chairs containing precious structures +of feathers, lace, and jewels towering over long faces powdered and +patched and painted _à la mode_, were swinging along the streets in +every direction, some with a brace of gold-braided lackeys by each of +the windows, but others in charge only of the burly chairmen. + +Unobtrusive among the latter class of conveyance was one that a young +gentleman, a tall and handsome lad, called from its rank between +Pierrepont Street and the South Parade. He gave the bearers instructions +to hasten to the house of Mr. Linley in the Crescent, and to inquire if +Miss Linley were ready. + +If she were not, he told them that they were to wait for her and carry +out her directions. The fellows touched their hats and swung off with +their empty chair. + +The young man then went to a livery stable, and putting a few +confidential inquiries to the proprietor, received a few confidential +replies, accentuated by a wink or two, and a certain quick uplifting of +a knuckly forefinger that had an expression of secretiveness of its own. + +“Mum's the word, sir, and mum it shall be,” whispered the man. “I stowed +away the trunk, leaving plenty of room for the genuine luggage--lady's +luggage, Mr. Sheridan. You know as well as I can tell you, sir, being +young but with as shrewd knowingness of affairs in general as might be +looked for in the son of Tom Sheridan, to say nought of a lady like your +mother, meaning to take no liberty in the world, Mr. Dick, as they call +you.” + +“I'm obliged to you, Denham, and I'll not forget you when this little +affair is happily over. The turn by the 'Bear' on the London Road, we +agreed.” + +“And there you'll find the chaise, sir, and as good a pair as ever left +my stable, and good luck to you, sir!” said the man. + +Young Mr. Sheridan then hastened to his father's house in King's Mead +Street, and was met by an anxious sister in the hall. + +“Good news, I hope, Dick?” she whispered. + +“I have been waiting for you all the evening. She has not changed her +mind, I hope.” + +“She is as steadfast as I am,” said he. “If I could not swear that she +would be steadfast, I would not undertake this business on her behalf. +When I think of our father----” + +“Don't think of him except as applauding your action,” said the girl. +“Surely every one with the least spark of generosity will applaud your +action, Dick.” + +“I wouldn't like to say so much,” said Dick, shaking his head. “Mathews +has his friends. No man could know so much about whist as he does +without having many friends, even though he be a contemptible scoundrel +when he is not employed over a rubber.” + +“Who will dare to take the part of Mr. Mathews against you, Dick?” cried +his sister, looking at him proudly as the parlour candles shone upon +him. “I would that I could go with you as far as London, dear, but that +would be impossible.” + +“Quite impossible; and where would be the merit in the end?” said Dick, +pacing the room as he believed a man of adventure and enterprise would +in the circumstances. “You may trust to me to place her in safety +without the help of any one.” + +“I know it, Dick, I know it, dear, and I am proud of you,” said she, +putting her arms about his neck and kissing him. “And look you here, +Dick,” she added, in a more practical tone. “Look you here--I find that +I can spare another five pounds out of the last bill that came from +Ireland. We shall live modestly in this house until you return to us.” + +He took the coins which she offered to him wrapped up in a twist of +newspaper; but he showed some hesitation--she had to go through a form +of forcing it upon him. + +“I hope to bring it back to you unbroken,” he murmured; “but in affairs +of this sort it is safest to have a pound or two over, rather than +under, what is barely needful. That is why I take your coins,--a loan--a +sacred loan. Good-bye, I returned only to say good-bye to you, my +dearest sister.” + +“I knew your good heart, Dick, that was why I was waiting for you. +Good-bye, Dick, and God bless you.” + +He was putting on his cloak in the hall. He saw that the pistols were +in its pockets, and then he suffered his sister to give him another kiss +before he passed into the dark street. + +He felt for his pistols, and with a hand on each he felt that he was +indeed fairly launched upon a great adventure. + +He made his way to the London road, and all the time he was wondering if +the girl would really come to him in the Sedan chair which he had sent +for her. To be sure she had promised to come upon this evening, but he +knew enough of the great affairs of this world to be well aware of the +fact that the sincerest promise of a maid may be rendered worthless +by the merest freak of Fate. Therefore, he knew that he did well to +be doubtful respecting the realisation of her promise. She was the +beautiful Miss Linley--every one in Bath knew her, and this being so, +was it not likely that some one--some prying person--some impudent +fellow like that Mathews who had been making love to her, although +he had a wife of his own in Wales--might catch a glimpse of her face +through the glass of the chair when passing a lamp or a link, and be +sufficiently curious to follow her chair to see whither she was going? + +That was a likely enough thing to happen, and if it did happen and the +alarm of his flight with her were given, what chance would he have of +carrying out his purpose? Why, the chaise would be followed, and even if +it was not overtaken before London was reached, the resting-place of the +fugitives would certainly be discovered in London, and they should be +ignominiously brought back to Bath. Yes, unless Mathews were the +pursuer, in which case---- + +Mr. Richard Brinsley Sheridan grasped more firmly the butt of the pistol +in the right-hand pocket of his cloak. He felt at that moment that +should Mathews overtake them, the going back to Bath would be on the +part only of Mathews. + +But how would it be if Mr. Linley had become apprised of his daughter's +intention to fly from Bath? He knew very well that Mr. Linley had +the best of reasons for objecting to his daughter's leaving Bath. Mr. +Linley's income was increased by several hundred pounds by reason of the +payments made to him on account of his daughter's singing in public, +and he was--very properly, considering his large family--fond of money. +Before he had to provide for his family, he took good care that his +family--his eldest daughter particularly--helped to provide for him. + +Doubtless these eventualities were suggested to him--for young Mr. +Sheridan was not without imagination--while on his way through the dark +outskirts of the beautiful city to the London Road. The Bear Inn was +just beyond the last of the houses. It stood at the junction of the +London Road and a narrower one leading past a couple of farms. It was +here that he had given instructions for the chaise to wait for him, and +here he meant to wait for the young lady who had promised to accompany +him to London--and further. + +He found the chaise without trouble. It was under the trees not more +than a hundred yards down the lane, but the chair, with Miss Linley, +had not yet arrived, so he returned to the road and began to retrace his +steps, hoping to meet it, yet with some doubts in his mind. Of course, +he was impatient. Young gentlemen under twenty-one are usually impatient +when awaiting the arrival of the ladies who have promised to run away +with them. He was not, however, kept in suspense for an unconscionably +long time. He met the chair which he was expecting just when he had +reached the last of the lamps of Bath, and out of it stepped the muffled +form of Miss Linley. The chairmen were paid with a lavish hand, and Dick +Sheridan and Betsy Linley walked on to the chaise without exchanging any +but a friendly greeting--there was nothing lover-like in their meeting +or their greeting. The elopement was not that of a young woman with her +lover; it was, we are assured, that of a young woman anxious to escape +from the intolerable position of being the most popular person in the +most fashionable city in England, to the peaceful retreat of a convent; +and the young man who was to take charge of her was one whom she had +chosen for her guardian, not for her lover. Dick Sheridan seems to have +been the only young man in Bath who had never made love to Elizabeth +Linley. His elder brother, Charles by name, had discharged this duty on +behalf of the Sheridan family, and he was now trying to live down his +disappointment at being refused, at a farmhouse a mile or two away. The +burden was greater than he could bear when surrounded by his sisters in +their father's house in King's Mead Street. + +[Illustration: 0277] + +Elizabeth Linley was certainly the most popular young woman in Bath; she +certainly was the most beautiful. The greatest painters of her day made +masterpieces of her portrait, and for once, posterity acknowledges that +the fame of her beauty was well founded. So spiritual a face as hers is +to be seen in no eighteenth-century picture except that of Miss Linley; +one has need to go back to the early Italian painters to find such +spirituality in a human face, and then one finds it combined with +absolute inanity, and the face is called Divine. Reynolds painted her as +Saint Cecilia drawing down angels, and blessedly unconscious of her own +powers, thinking only of raising herself among angels on the wings +of song. His genius was never better employed and surely never more +apparent than in the achievement of this picture. Gainsborough painted +her by the side of her younger brother, and one feels that if Reynolds +painted a saint, Gainsborough painted a girl. It was Bishop O'Beirne, +an old friend of her family and acquainted with her since her childhood, +who said: “She is a link between an angel and a woman.” + +And this exquisite creature had a voice of so sympathetic a quality that +no one could hear it unmoved. Her father had made her technique perfect. +He was a musician who was something more than painstaking. He had taste +of the highest order, and it is possible to believe that in the training +of his eldest daughter he was wise enough to limit his instruction to +the technicalities of his art, leaving her to the inspiration of her own +genius in regard to the treatment of any theme which he brought before +her. + +At any rate her success in the sublimest of all oratorios was far beyond +anything that could be achieved by an exhibition of the finest technical +qualities; and Mr. Linley soon became aware of the fact that he was the +father of the most beautiful and the most highly gifted creature that +ever made a father miserable. + +Incidentally she made a great many other men miserable, but that was +only because each of them wanted her to make him happy at the expense +of the others, and this she was too kind-hearted to do. But the cause of +her father's grief was something different. It was due to the fact +that the girl was so sensitive that she shrank from every exhibition of +herself and her ability on a public platform. It was an agony to her to +hear the tumultuous applause that greeted her singing at a concert or in +an oratorio. She seemed to feel--let any one look at the face which +is to be seen in her portrait, and one will understand how this could +be--that music was something too spiritual to be made the medium only +for the entertainment of the multitude. Taking the highest imaginable +view of the scope and value and meaning of music, it can be understood +that this girl should shrink from such an ordeal as the concert platform +offered to her every time she was announced to sing. No more frivolous +and fashionable a population than that of Bath in the second half of +the eighteenth century was to be found in any city in the world; and +Elizabeth Linley felt that she was regarded by the concert-goers as no +more than one of the numerous agents they employed to lessen the ennui +of an empty day. The music which she worshipped--the spirit with which +her soul communed in secret--was, she felt, degraded by being sold to +the crowd and subjected to the patronage of their applause. + +Of course when she spoke to her father in this strain he sympathised +with her, and bemoaned the fate that made it necessary for him to +have her assistance to save her mother and brothers and sisters from +starvation. And so for several years she was an obedient child, but +very weary of the rôle. She sang and enchanted thousands. She did not, +however, think of them; her mind dwelt daily upon the tens of thousands +who regarded her (she thought) as fulfilling no nobler purpose than to +divert them for half an hour between taking the waters and sitting down +to faro or quadrille. + +But it was not alone her distaste for the publicity of the platform that +made her miserable. The fact was that she was distracted by suitors. She +had, it was said, accepted the offer of an elderly gentleman named Long, +the wealthy head of a county family in the neighbourhood; and Foote, +with his usual vulgarity, which took the form of personality, wrote +a play--a wretched thing even for Foote--in which he dealt with an +imaginarily comic and a certainly sordid situation, with Miss Linley +on the one side and Mr. Long on the other. Serious biographers have not +hesitated to accept this situation invented by the notorious _farceur_, +who was no greater a respecter of persons than he was of truth, as a +valuable contribution to the history of the Linley family, especially +in regard to the love affair of the lovely girl by whose help they were +made famous. They have never thought of the possibility of her having +accepted Mr. Long in order to escape from her horror of the concert +platform. They have never suggested the possibility of Mr. Long's +settling a sum of money on her out of his generosity when he found out +that Miss Linley did not love him. + +It was not Mr. Long, however, but a man named Mathews--sometimes +referred to as Captain, occasionally as Major--who was the immediate +cause of her running away with young Sheridan. This man Mathews was +known to be married, and to be in love with Elizabeth Linley, and yet +he was allowed to be constantly in her company, pestering her with his +attentions, and there was no one handy to horsewhip him. Sheridan's +sister, who afterwards married Mr. Lefanu, wrote an account of this +curious matter for the guidance of Thomas Moore, who was preparing his +biography of her brother. She stated that Miss Linley was afraid to tell +her father of Major Mathews and his impossible suit, and so she was “at +length induced to consult Richard Sheridan, whose intimacy with Major +Mathews, at the time, she thought might warrant his interference.” And +then we are told that “R. B. Sheridan sounded Mathews on the subject and +at length prevailed on him to give up the pursuit.” + +That is how the adoring sister of “R. B. Sheridan,” who had been talking +to Elizabeth Linley of him as of a knight-errant, eager to redress the +wrongs of maidens in distress, wrote of her brother! He “sounded Mathews +on the subject.” On what subject? The subject was the pursuit of an +innocent girl by a contemptible scoundrel. How does the knight-errant +“sound” such a person when he sets out to redress the maiden's +ill-treatment? One R. B. Sheridan, a dramatist, gives us a suggestion as +to what were his ideas on this point: “Do you think that Achilles or my +little Alexander the Great ever enquired where the right lay? No, sir, +they drew their broadswords and left the lazy sons of peace to settle +the rights of the matter.” Now young Sheridan, who is reported by his +sister as “sounding” Mathews, was no coward. He proved himself to be +anything but afraid of Mathews, so that one must, out of justice to him, +assume that the only attempt he would have made to “sound” the scoundrel +at this time would be through the medium of a sound hiding. + +It is at such a point as this in the biography of an interesting man +that one blesses the memory--and the notebook--of the faithful Boswell. +Thomas Moore was quite intimate with Richard Brinsley Sheridan, but +he never thought of asking him for some information on this particular +incident in his life, the fact being that he had no definite intention +of becoming his biographer. We know perfectly well how Boswell would +have plied Johnson with questions on the subject, had it ever come +to his ears that Johnson had undertaken to play the rôle of a +knight-errant. + +“Pray, sir, what did you say to Mathews when you sounded him?” + +“Do you think, sir, that in any circumstances a married gentleman who is +showing marked attentions to a virtuous young lady should be sounded by +a young gentleman who has been entrusted with the duty of protecting the +lady?” + +Alas! instead of the unblushing indelicacy of Boswell, who hunted for +trifles as a pig hunts for truffles, we are obliged to be content with +the vagueness of a sister, whose memory, we have an uneasy feeling, was +not quite so good as she thought it was. + +And from the memory of this sister we have an account of the amazing +elopement of Richard Sheridan with Elizabeth Linley. + +When the young gentleman put her into the chaise that was waiting for +them on the London road, Miss Linley had never thought of him except as +a kind friend. She had accepted his services upon this occasion as she +would those of a courier to conduct her to London, and thence to France, +where she intended to enter a convent. The Miss Sheridans had lived in +France, and had some friends at St. + +Quentin, who knew of a very nice clean convent--an establishment which +they could strongly recommend, and where she could find that complete +seclusion which Miss Linley longed for, and their brother Dick was +thought to be a very suitable companion for her on her way thither. Mrs. +Lefanu (_née_ Sheridan), who wrote out the whole story in after years, +mentioned that her chivalrous brother was to provide a woman to act as +her maid in the chaise; but as not the least reference to this chaperon +is to be found in the rest of the story, we fear that it must be assumed +either that her brother forgot this unimportant detail, or that the +detail was unavoidably detained in Bath. What is most likely of all is +that the solitary reference to this mysterious female was dovetailed, +somewhat clumsily, into the narrative, at the suggestion of some +Mrs. Grundy, who shook her head at the narrative of so much chivalry +unsupported by a responsible chaperon. However this may be, the shadowy +chaperon is never alluded to again; she may have faded away into the +mists of morning and London, or she may have vanished at the first +turnpike. Nothing was seen or heard of her subsequently. + +The boy and the girl reached London in safety, and drove to the house +of a Mr. Ewart, a relation of the Sheridans, to whom Dick offered the +explanation of his unconventional visit on the very plausible grounds +of his being engaged to the young lady, a great heiress, whom he was +hastening to France to marry. Of course the Ewart family were +perfectly satisfied with this explanation; and another friend, who had +indisputable claims to consideration, being, we are told, “the son of +a respectable brandy merchant in the City,” suggested that they should +sail from London to Dunkirk, “in order to make pursuit more difficult.” + How such an end could be compassed by such means is left to the +imagination of a reader. The young pair, however, jumped at the +suggestion, and reached Dunkirk after an uneventful crossing. + +It is at this point in the sister's account of the itinerary of this +interesting enterprise that she mentions that Richard suddenly threw +away the disguise of the chivalrous and disinterested protector of the +young lady, and declared that he would not consent to conduct her to the +convent unless she agreed to marry him immediately. Mrs. Lefanu's exact +words are as follows: “After quitting Dunkirk Mr. Sheridan was more +explicit with Miss Linley as to his views on accompanying her to +France.” + +This is certainly a very lawyer-like way of condoning the conduct of +a mean scoundrel; but, happily for the credit of Richard Brinsley +Sheridan, it is the easiest thing in the world to discredit his sister's +narrative, although she adds that he urged on the girl what would seem +to a casual observer of society in general to be perfectly true--“she +must be aware that after the step she had taken, she could not appear +in England but as his wife.” As the sequel proved this alleged statement +was quite untrue! She did appear in England, and not as his wife, and +no one seemed to think anything the worse of her on account of her +escapade. But to suggest that Sheridan took advantage of the trust +which the innocent girl had reposed in him to compel her to marry him, +a penniless minor with no profession and very little education, is +scarcely consistent with an account of his high-mindedness and his sense +of what was chivalrous. + +And then the sister pleasantly remarks that “Miss Linley, who really +preferred him greatly to any person, was not difficult to persuade, and +at a village not far from Calais the marriage ceremony was performed +by a priest who was known to be often employed upon such occasions.” + Whoever this clergyman may have been, it is impossible for any one to +believe that in the discharge of his office he was kept in constant +employment; for “such occasions” as answered to the account given by +the Sheridan sister of the nuptials of the young couple, must have been +extremely rare. + +And yet Moore, on whom the responsibilities of a biographer rested very +lightly, was quite content to accept as strictly accurate the narrative +of Mrs. Lefanu, contradicted though it was by subsequent events in which +both her brother and Miss Linley were concerned. Moore does not seem to +have troubled himself over any attempt to obtain confirmation of one +of the most important incidents in the life of the man of whom he was +writing. + +He made no attempt to discover if the accommodating priest at the +village near Calais was still alive when he was compiling his biography +of Sheridan, and it was not beyond the bounds of possibility that he was +still alive; nor did this easy-going Irish master of melodies consider +that it devolved on him to try to find some record of the marriage in +question. + +Now what happened after this remarkable union? The narrative of the +sister is quite as circumstantial as one could wish it to be, and even +more imaginative. But whatever qualities of excellence it possesses, +it certainly does not carry to a reader any conviction of accuracy. +It states that the interesting young couple went to Lille instead of +carrying out their original intention of going to St. Quentin, and +that Miss Linley--now Mrs. Sheridan, of course--“immediately secured an +apartment in a convent, where it was settled she was to remain either +till Sheridan came of age or till he was in a situation to support +a wife. He remained a few days at Lille to be satisfied that she was +settled to her satisfaction; but, whether from agitation of mind or +fatigue, she was taken ill, and an English physician, Dr. Dolman, of +York, was called in to attend her. From what he perceived of her case he +wished to have her more immediately under his care than he could in the +convent, and he and Mrs. Dolman most kindly invited her to their house.” + +This would seem to have been very kind indeed on the part of the doctor +and his wife, but it so happened that a letter turned up some years ago +which the late Mr. Fraser Rae was able to print in the first volume of +his admirable _Life of Sheridan_, and this letter makes it plain +that wherever Mrs. Sheridan (_née_ Linley) may have been, she was not +sojourning with the Dolmans. It is from Dr. Dolman himself, and it was +addressed to “Monsieur Sherridan, Gentilhomme Anglois, à l'Hôtel de +Bourbon, Sur la Grande Place.” It recommends the administering of +certain powders in a glass of white wine twice daily, and sends +“compliments and wishes of health to your lady.” + +The question then remains: Was the lady at this time an inmate of the +convent, and did the doctor expect “Monsieur Sherridan” to go to this +institution twice a day in order to administer the powders to his lady? +Would not the doctor think it somewhat peculiar that the husband should +be at the Hôtel de Bourbon and his lady an inmate of the convent? + +These questions must be left to be answered according to the experience +of life of any one interested in the matter. But it is worth noticing +that, on the very day that he received the missive from Dr. Dolman, +Sheridan wrote to his brother at Bath and mentioned that Miss Linley--he +continued to call her Miss Linley--was now “fixing in a convent, where +she has been entered some time.” Does the first phrase mean that she was +already in the convent, or only about to take up her residence there? +However this question may be answered, it is clear that Sheridan +expected to leave her behind him at Lille, for he adds, “Everything +is now so happily settled here I will delay no longer giving you that +information, though probably I shall set out for England without knowing +a syllable of what has happened with you.” + +So far, then, as his emprise in regard to the lady was concerned, he +considered the incident to be closed. “Though you may have been ignorant +for some time of our proceedings, you could never have been uneasy,” he +continues hopefully, “lest anything should tempt me to depart, even in a +thought, from the honour and consistency which engaged me at first.” + +Some people have suggested that Sheridan, when he drew the character +of Charles Surface, meant it to be something of an excuse for his own +casual way of life. But it must strike a good many persons who believe +that he induced the innocent girl, whom he set forth to protect on her +way to a refuge from the infamous designs of Mathews, to marry him, that +Sheridan approached much more closely to the character of Joseph in this +correspondence with his brother. A more hypocritical passage than that +just quoted could hardly have been uttered by Joseph Surface. As a +matter of fact, one of Joseph's sentiments is only a paraphrase of this +unctuous assumption of honour and consistency. + +But this criticism is only true if one can believe his sister's story of +the marriage. If it is true that Sheridan set out from England with +Miss Linley with the intention of so compromising her that she should +be compelled to marry him, at the same time pretending to her and to his +brother to be actuated by the highest motives in respect of the ill-used +girl, it is impossible to think of him except with contempt. + +Happily the weight of evidence is overpoweringly in Sheridan's favour. +We may think of him as a rash, an inconsiderate, and a culpably careless +boy to take it upon him to be the girl's companion to the French +convent, but we refuse to believe that he was ever capable of acting the +grossly disingenuous part attributed to him by his sister, and accepted +without question by his melodious biographer. There are many people, +however, who believe that when a man marries a woman, no matter in what +circumstances, he has “acted the part of a gentleman” in regard to her, +and must be held to be beyond reproach on any account whatsoever so far +as the woman is concerned. In the eyes of such censors of morality, as +in the eyes of the law, the act of marriage renders null and void all +ante-nuptial deeds; and it was probably some impression of this type +which was acquired by Sheridan's sister, inducing her to feel sure +(after a time) that her brother's memory would suffer if his biographer +were to tell the story of his inconsiderate conduct in running away with +Elizabeth Linley, unless it was made clear that he married her the first +moment he had to spare. She tried to save her brother's memory by +persuading her own to accommodate itself to what she believed to be her +brother's emergency. She was a good sister, and she kept her memory well +under control. + +But what did the father of the young lady think of the matter? What did +the people of Bath, who were well acquainted with all the actors engaged +in this little comedy, think of the matter? Happily these questions can +be answered by appealing to facts rather than to the well-considered +recollections of a discreet lady. + +We know for certain that Mr. Linley, who was, as one might suppose, +fully equipped to play the part of the enraged father of the runaway +girl, turned up at the place of her retreat--he had no trouble in +learning in what direction to look for her--and having found her and the +young gentleman who had run away with her, did he, under the impulse +of his anger, fanned by his worldly knowledge, insist with an uplifted +horsewhip upon his marrying her without a moment's delay? Mr. Linley +knew Bath, and to know Bath was to know the world. Was he, then, of the +same opinion as that expressed (according to his sister's narrative) by +young Sheridan to persuade Miss Linley to be his bride--namely, that it +would be impossible for her to show her face in Bath unless as the wife +of Richard Brinsley Sheridan? + +Nothing of the sort. Whatever reproaches he may have flung at his +daughter, however strong may have been his denunciation of the conduct +of the man who had run away with her, they had not the effect either of +inducing his daughter or her companion to reveal to him the fact that +they had been married for several days, or of interrupting the friendly +relations that had existed for nearly two years between himself and +young Sheridan. The dutiful memory of Miss Sheridan records that Mr. +Linley, “after some private conversation with Mr. Sheridan, appeared +quite reconciled to his daughter, but insisted on her returning to +England with him (Mr. Linley) to fulfil several engagements he had +entered into on her account. The whole party set out together the next +day, Mr. Linley having previously promised to allow his daughter to +return to Lille when her engagements were over.” + +The comedy of the elopement had become a farce of the “whimsical” type. +Nothing more amusing or amazing has ever been seen on the vaudeville +stage. The boy and the girl run off together and get married. The +infuriated father follows them, ruthlessly invades their place of +refuge, and then, “after some private conversation” with his daughter's +husband, who does not tell him that he is her husband, says to the young +woman, “My dear, you must come home with me to sing at a concert.” + +“Certainly, papa,” replies the girl. “Wait a minute, and I'll go too,” + cries the unconfused husband of the daughter. “All right, come along,” + says the father, and they all take hands and sing the ridiculous trio +which winds up the vaudeville after it has run on inconsequentially for +a merry forty minutes--there is a _pas de trois_, and the curtain falls! + +Alas, for the difference between Boswell the bald and Moore the +melodious! The bald prose of Boswell's diaries may have made many of +the personages with whom he dealt seem silly, but that was because +he himself was silly, and, being aware of this fact, the more +discriminating of his readers have no great difficulty in arriving +at the truth of any matter with which he deals. He would never have +accepted unreservedly such a narrative as that which Moore received +from Mrs. Lefanu (_née_ Sheridan), and put into his own language, or as +nearly into his own language as he could. But Moore found it “so hard to +narrate familiar events eloquently,” he complained. He actually thought +that Mrs. Lefanu's narrative erred on the side of plausibility! The +mysterious elopement, the still more mysterious marriage, and the +superlatively mysterious return of the fugitives and the irate father +hand-in-hand, he regarded as events so commonplace as not to be +susceptible of lyrical treatment. But the most farcical of the doings +of his own _Fudge Family_ were rational in comparison with the familiar +events associated with the flight to France of his hero and heroine. The +_Trip to Scarborough_ of Sheridan the farce-writer was founded on +much more “familiar events” than this extraordinary trip to Lille, as +narrated for the benefit of the biographer by Mrs. Lefanu. + +What seems to be the truth of the whole matter is simply that Sheridan +undertook to be a brother to Elizabeth Linley, and carried out his +compact faithfully, without allowing anything to tempt him to depart, +as he wrote to Charles, “even in thought from the honour and consistency +which engaged [him] at first.” It must be remembered that he was a +romantic boy of twenty, and this is just the age at which nearly every +boy--especially a boy in love--is a Sir Galahad. As for Miss Linley, +one has only to look at her portrait to know what she was. She was not +merely innocent, she was innocence itself. + +When Mr. Linley appeared at Lille he accepted without reserve the +explanation offered to him by his daughter and by Sheridan; and, +moreover, he knew that although there was a school for scandal located +at Bath, yet so highly was his daughter thought of in all circles, and +so greatly was young Sheridan liked, that no voice of calumny would be +raised against either of them when they returned with him. And even if +it were possible that some whisper, with its illuminating smile above +the arch of a painted fan, might be heard in the Assembly Rooms when +some one mentioned the name of Miss Linley in connection with that of +young Sheridan and with the trip to Lille, he felt convinced that such +a whisper would be robbed of its sting when every one knew that the girl +and the boy and the father all returned together and on the best terms +to Bath. + +As the events proved, he had every right to take even so sanguine a view +of the limitations of the range of the Pump Room gossips. On the return +of the three from Lille no one suggested that Sheridan and Miss Linley +should get married. No one except the scoundrel Mathews suggested that +Sheridan had acted badly or even unwisely, though undoubtedly he had +given grounds for such implications. The little party returned to Bath, +and Miss Linley fulfilled her concert and oratorio engagements, went +into society as before, and had at her feet more eligible suitors than +had ever knelt there. We have it on the authority of Charles Sheridan, +the elder brother, that in Bath the feeling was that Richard had acted +as a man of honour in taking the girl to the convent at Lille. Writing +to their uncle, Mr. Chamberlaine, he expressed surprise that “in +this age when the world does not abound in Josephs, most people are +(notwithstanding the general tendency of mankind to judge unfavourably) +inclined to think that he (Richard) acted with the strictest honour in +his late expedition with Miss L., when the circumstances might allow of +their being very dubious on this head without incurring the imputation +of being censorious.” + +This testimony as to what was the opinion in Bath regarding the +expedition is extremely valuable, coming as it does from one who was +never greatly disposed to take a brotherly or even a friendly view of +Richard's conduct at any time--coming as it does also from a man who had +been in love with Miss Linley. + +At any rate this escapade of young Mr. Sheridan was the most fortunate +for him of any in which he ever engaged, and he was a man of many +escapades, for it caused Elizabeth Linley to fall in love with him, and +never was a man beloved by a sweeter or more faithful woman. To know how +beautiful was her nature one has only to look at her face in either of +the great portraits of her which are before us to-day. No characteristic +of all that is held to be good and gracious and sympathetic--in one +word, that is held to be womanly, is absent from her face. No man that +ever lived was worthy of such a woman; but if only men who are worthy of +such women were beloved by them, mankind would be the losers. She loved +Sheridan with the truest devotion--such devotion as might be expected +from such a nature as hers--and she died in the act of writing to him +the love-letter of a wife to her dearly loved husband. + +They did not get married until a year after the date of their flight to +the Continent, and then they were described as bachelor and spinster. +Neither of them ever gave a hint, even in any of the numerous letters +which they exchanged during this period, that they had gone through +the ceremony of marriage at that village near Calais. More than once a +strained situation would have been relieved had it been possible to make +such a suggestion, for now and again each of the lovers grew jealous of +the other for a day or two. But neither said, “Pray remember that you +are not free to think of marrying any one. We are husband and wife, +although we were married in secret.” Neither of them could make such an +assertion. It would not have been true. What seems to us to be the truth +is that it was Sir Galahad who acted as protector to his sister when +Richard Brinsley Sheridan went with Elizabeth Linley to France. + + + + +THE AMAZING DUELS + +WHEN young Mr. Sheridan returned to Bath after his happy little +journey to France with Miss Linley and back with Mr. Linley, he may have +believed that the incident was closed. He had done all that--and perhaps +a little more than--the most chivalrous man of experience and means +could be expected to do for the young woman toward whom he had stood +in the position of a protecting brother. He had conducted her to the +convent at Lille, on which she had set her heart, and he had been able +to explain satisfactorily to her father on his arrival at the hotel +where he and Miss Linley were sojourning in the meantime, what his +intentions had been when he had eloped with her from Bath. No doubt he +had also acted as Miss Linley's adviser in respect of those negotiations +with her father which resulted in the happy return of the whole family +party to London. + +In London he heard that Mathews, the scoundrel who had been pursuing +Miss Linley in the most disreputable fashion, was in town also, and +that, previous to leaving Bath, he had inserted in the Chronicle +a defamatory advertisement regarding him (Sheridan); and on this +information coming to his ears he put his pistols into his pocket and +went in search of Mathews at the lodgings of the latter. + +Miss Sheridan tells us about the pistols in the course of her lucid +narrative, and states on her own responsibility that when he came upon +Mathews the latter was dreadfully frightened at the sight of one of the +pistols protruding from Sheridan's pocket. Mr. Fraser Rae, the competent +biographer of Sheridan, smiles at the lady's statement. “The sight of +the pistols would have alarmed Sheridan's sisters,” he says, “but it +is in accordance with probability that he (Mathews) expected a hostile +meeting to follow as a matter of course. He must have been prepared for +it, and he would have been strangely ignorant of the world in which he +lived if he had deemed it unusual.” + +[Illustration: 0301] + +But Mr. Fraser Rae was not so strangely ignorant of the world in which +Sheridan and Mathews lived as to fancy that there was nothing unusual +in a gentleman's going to ask another gentleman whom he believed to have +affronted him, for an explanation, with a pair of pistols in his pocket. +In the circumstances a duel would have been nothing unusual; but surely +Mr. Fraser Rae could not have fancied that Sheridan set out with the +pistols in his pocket in order to fight a duel with Mathews in the man's +lodgings, without preliminaries and without seconds. If Mathews caught +sight of the butt of a pistol sticking out of Sheridan's pocket he had +every reason to be as frightened as Miss Sheridan declared he was, for +he must have believed that his visitor had come to murder him. + +At any rate, frightened or not frightened, pistols or no pistols, +Mathews, on being interrogated by Sheridan as to the advertisement in +the _Bath Chronicle_, assured him that he had been grossly misinformed +as to the character of the advertisement. It was, he affirmed, nothing +more than an inquiry after Sheridan, which the family of the latter had +sanctioned. He then, according to Miss Sheridan, expressed the greatest +friendship for his visitor, and said that he would be made extremely +unhappy if any difference should arise between them. + +So young Mr. Sheridan, balked of his murderous intentions, returned with +unsullied pistols to his hotel, and set out for Bath with Miss Linley +and her father. + +But if he fancied that Mathews had passed out of his life he was quickly +undeceived. Before he had time to take his seat at the family table he +had got a copy of the newspaper containing the advertisement, of the +tenor of which Mathews had told him in London he had been misinformed; +and now his sisters made him fully aware of the action taken by the +same man on learning of the flight of Sheridan and Elizabeth Linley. The +result was that he now perceived what every one should have known long +before--namely, that Mathews was a scoundrel, who should never have +been allowed to obtain the footing to which he had been admitted in the +Sheridan and Linley families. + +It appears that the moment Mathews heard that Miss Linley had been +carried beyond his reach, he rushed to the Sheridans' house, and +there found the girls and their elder brother, who had been wisely +communicated with by the landlord, and had left his retirement in the +farmhouse in the country to take charge of the sisters in the absence of +their brother Richard. Mathews behaved like a madman--no unusual _rôle_ +for him--heaping reproaches upon the absent member of the family, +and demanding to be told of his whereabouts. He seems to have been +encouraged by Charles Sheridan, who had unwisely said something in +disparagement of his brother. Mathews had the effrontery to avow his +passion for Elizabeth Linley, and in the bitterest terms to accuse +Richard Sheridan of having acted basely in taking her beyond his reach. + +Then he hastened to Richard Sheridan's friend and confidant, a young man +named Brereton, and to him he sent messages of friendship and, possibly, +condolence to Mr. Linley, though his object in paying this visit was +undoubtedly not to endeavour to exculpate himself as regards Mr. Linley, +but to find out where the fugitives were to be found. He may have had +visions of pursuing them, of fighting a duel with Richard Sheridan, and +if he succeeded in killing him, of getting the girl at last into his +power. + +But Mr. Brereton not only did not reveal the whereabouts of his +friend--he knew that Sheridan meant to go to Lille, for he wrote to him +there--but he also refused to give his interrogator any sympathy for +having failed to accomplish the destruction of the girl. Brereton, +indeed, seems to have convinced him that the best thing he could do was +to leave Bath as quickly as possible. Mathews had probably by this time +discovered, as Brereton certainly had, that the feeling against him in +Bath was profound. There can be little doubt that in the course of the +day Charles Sheridan became aware of this fact also; he had only a few +months before confessed himself to be deeply in love with Elizabeth +Linley, and when he heard that his brother had run away with her he +could not but have been somewhat incensed against him, for Richard had +not taken him into his confidence. By the time his brother returned, +however, any ill-feeling that Charles may have felt had disappeared, +and as Charles always showed himself to be a cool and calculating +gentleman--one who always kept an eye on the jumping cat--it is not +going too far to assume that his change of tone in respect of his rather +impetuous brother was due to his perception of the trend of public +opinion on the subject of the elopement. + +Brereton had persuaded Mathews that there was nothing left for him but +to quit Bath; but before taking this step the latter had inserted in the +_Bath Chronicle_ the advertisement of which Richard had heard, but which +he had not read when in London, thus leaving himself in no position to +contradict Mathews' assertion as to its amicable wording. + +But now the newspaper was put into his hands by Charles, and he had +an opportunity of pronouncing an opinion on this point. It was dated +Wednesday, April the 8th, 1772, and it ran as follows: + +“Mr. Richard S-------- having attempted in a letter left behind him for +that purpose, to account for his scandalous method of running away from +this place by insinuations derogating from my character and that of a +young lady, innocent as far as relates to me, or my knowledge, since +which he has neither taken any notice of letters or even informed his +own family of the place where he has hid himself; I cannot longer think +he deserves the treatment of a gentleman, and in this public method, to +post him as a L------, and a treacherous S--------. + +“And as I am convinced there have been many malevolent incendiaries +concerned in the propagation of this infamous lie, if any of them, +unprotected by age, _infirmities_, or profession, they are to +acknowledge the part they have acted, and affirm _to_ what they have +said _of_ me, they may depend on receiving the proper reward of their +villainy, in the most public manner. The world will be candid enough to +judge properly (I make no doubt) of any private abuse on this subject +for the future, as nobody can defend himself from an accusation he is +ignorant of Thomas Mathews.” Such a piece of maundering imbecility as +this had probably never before appeared in a newspaper. It must have +been read in Bath with roars of laughter. But we do not hear that any of +the ready writers of the time and the town yielded to the temptation of +commenting upon the “malevolent incendiarism” of the composition. A man +of the world, had it been written about himself, would possibly +have thought that its illiteracy spoke for itself, and so would have +refrained from making any move in regard to it or its author. But one +can imagine what effect reading it would have upon a boy of Sheridan's +spirit. For a youth of twenty to find himself posted as a Liar and +a Scoundrel, to say nothing of a “malevolent incendiary,” and remain +indifferent would be impossible. Sheridan did not take long to make up +his mind what he should do in the circumstances. + +The dramatic touch which his sister introduces in writing of Richard's +perusal of the paragraph is intensely true to nature. He simply put a +word or two to Charles relative to what Mathews had told him in +London about his, Sheridan's, family sanctioning the insertion of the +advertisement. Charles had no difficulty in vindicating his integrity on +this point. Richard knew perfectly well that it is one thing to say that +a man has acted too hastily, but quite another to suggest that that man +is “a L------ and a S--------.” + +So apparently the matter ended, and Richard continued chatting with his +sisters, giving no sign of what was in his mind. The girls went to +their beds, suspecting nothing. The next morning their two brothers were +missing! + +Of course the girls were dreadfully alarmed. Some people in the house +told them that they had heard high words being exchanged between the +brothers after the girls had retired, and shortly afterwards the two +former had gone out together. The sister, in her narrative, mentions +that she received a hint or two of a duel between Richard and Charles, +but she at once put these suggestions aside. The poor girls must have +been nearly distracted. Certainly the house of Sheridan was passing +through a period of great excitement. The estimable head of the family +was himself expecting a crisis in his affairs as manager of the theatre +in Dublin--Mr. Thomas Sheridan was never far removed from a crisis--and +in his absence his young people were doing pretty much as they pleased. +He had no power of controlling them; all that he had to do with them was +to pay their bills. Neither of the sons was earning anything, and while +one of them was living as a man of fashion, the other had thought it +well to cut himself off from his sisters, taking lodgings at a farm some +way out of Bath It is the girls of the house for whom one feels most. +Alicia, the elder, was seventeen, Elizabeth was but twelve. They must +have been distracted. So would their father have been if he had had a +chance of learning all that was going on at Bath. + +But, of course, when young gentlemen of spirit are falling in love with +beauteous maidens, and retiring to cure themselves by mingling with +pastoral scenes reminiscent of the gentle melancholy of Mr. Alexander +Pope's shepherds and shepherdesses (done in Dresden), every one of +whom murmurs mournfully and melodiously of a rejected suit--when young +gentlemen are running away with afflicted damsels and returning to +fight their enemies, they cannot be expected to think of the incidental +expenses of the business, which are to be defrayed by their father, any +more than of the distraction which takes possession of their sisters. + +The two young gentlemen were missing, and had left for their sisters +no explanation of their absence--no hint as to the direction of their +flight. And there were other people in the house talking about the high +words that had been exchanged between the brothers at midnight. It is +not surprising that the poor girls should be distressed and distracted. + +Considering that Miss Linley was the first cause of the excitement in +the midst of which the family had been living for some weeks, it was +only natural that the elder of the girls should send for her with a view +to have some light thrown on this new development of the heroic incident +in which Miss Linley had assisted. But Miss Linley, on being applied +to, affirmed that she knew nothing of the disappearance of the brothers, +that she had heard of nothing that should cause them to leave Bath at a +moment's notice. She was, unfortunately, a young woman of imagination. +In a crisis such a one is either very helpful, or very helpless. Poor +Miss Linley was the latter. She had just come through a great crisis in +her own life, and she had not emerged from it without suffering. It was +too much to ask her to face another in the family of her friends. She +went off in a fainting fit on hearing the news of the disappearance of +the young men, and her father left her in the hands of a medical man, +and turned his attention to the condition of Miss Sheridan, who was +unable to walk back to her home, and had to be put into a chair, +Mr. Linley walking beside her with her young sister. It is more than +possible that Mr. Linley was beginning to feel that he had had quite +enough of the Sheridan family to last him for the remainder of his life. + +For two days nothing whatever was heard of the missing brothers. We have +no means of knowing if Miss Sheridan communicated to their father in +Dublin the mysterious story she had to tell; the chances are that she +was advised by Mr. Linley to refrain from doing so until she might have +something definite to tell him. Mr. Linley never had any particular +regard for the elder Sheridan, and he had no wish to have him summoned +from his theatre at Dublin to make his remarks about the dangerous +attractiveness of Elizabeth Linley, and the culpable carelessness of +her father in allowing her to be carried off to France by a young man +without a penny except what he got from his own father. + +At any rate, Tom Sheridan did not leave his theatre or his pupils +in elocution, and there was no need for him to do so, for on Tuesday +evening--they had been missing on the Sunday morning--Dick and his +brother returned. They were both greatly fatigued, and said that they +had not been in bed since they had left Bath. This meant that Dick had +actually not slept in Bath since he had originally left the city in the +company of Miss Linley. Between the Friday and the Tuesday he had posted +from London to Bath with the Linleys, and had forthwith returned to +London with his brother and then back once more to Bath without a pause. +He, at least, had very good reason for feeling fatigued. + +His first act was to hand his sister an apology which had been made to +him by Mathews. This document is worthy of being reprinted. It ran thus: + +“Being convinced that the expressions I made use of to Mr. Sheridan's +disadvantage, were the effects of passion and misrepresentation, +I intreat what I have said to that gentleman's disadvantage, and +particularly beg his pardon for my advertisement in the _Bath +Chronicle_. Th. Mathews.” + +He handed this document to his sister, and then it may be supposed that +he went to bed. He had certainly good need of a sleep. + +Such is the drift of the story up to this point, as told by Mrs. Lefanu +(Elizabeth Sheridan), and it differs in some particulars from that told +by her brother Charles in a letter to their uncle, and, in a lesser +degree, from the account given of the whole transaction by Richard +Sheridan himself, who was surely in the best position to know exactly +what happened upon the occasion of his first visit to Mathews in London, +as well as upon the occasion of his second, made so hurriedly in the +company of his brother. + +His second visit was, as might have been expected, the more exciting. +It included the fighting of a duel with Mathews. The humours of duelling +have been frequently dealt with in prose and comedy, and, assuredly the +most amusing of all is to be found in Richard Brinsley Sheridan's _The +Rivals_. One must confess, however, that the serious account given by +the same writer of his hostile meeting with Mathews, on his return from +Bath, suggests a much more ludicrous series of situations than are to be +found in his play. + +In Sheridan's account he mentions that while still in France he received +“several abusive threats” from Mathews, and these had such an effect +upon him that he wrote to Mathews, swearing that he would not close his +eyes in sleep in England till he had treated Mathews as he deserved. +In order to carry out this vow he had actually sat up all night at +Canterbury, where his party halted on their way from Dover to London. +He called upon Mathews on arriving in London, at the latter's lodging +in Crutched Friars; this was at midnight, and the key of the door being +mislaid, he had to wait two hours before he was admitted. He found +Mathews in bed, but he induced him to rise and dress, though, in spite +of his compliance as regards his raiment, he complained bitterly of the +cold. There does not seem to have been any great suffering on Sheridan's +part through a lack of heat. Then, as his sister's narrative put it, the +man declared that his visitor had been grossly misinformed in regard to +the libel in the Chronicle; and so he left for Bath, as has already been +stated. + +And now comes the account given by Sheridan of the return visit, and, +told in his own laconic style, it suggests such comic situations as +border on farce. + +“Mr. S.,” he wrote, “staid but three hours in Bath. He returned to +London. He sent to Mr. M. from Hyde Parck. He came with Captain Knight +his second. He objected frequently to the ground. They adjourned to the +Hercules Pillars. They returned to Hyde Parck. Mr. M. objected to the +observation of an officer. They returned to Hercules Pillars. They +adjourned to the Bedford Coffee house by agreement. Mr. M. was gone +to the Castel Tavern. Mr. S. followed with Mr. E. Mr. M. made many +declarations in favour of Mr. S. They engaged. Mr. M. was disarmed, +Captain Knight ran in. Mr. M. begged his life and afterwards denied the +advantage. Mr. S. was provoked by the (really well-meant) interposition +of Captain Knight and the illusion of Mr. M. He insisted since Mr. M. +denied the advantage, that he should give up his sword. Mr. M. denied, +but sooner than return to his ground he gave it up. It was broke, and +Mr. M. offered another. He was then called on to retract his abuse +and beg Mr. S.'s pardon. With much altercation and much ill grace he +complied.” + +The remainder of this remarkably succinct composition is devoted to the +subsequent misrepresentations of the transaction by Mathews, and by the +writer's appeal to the seconds to say if his version of the encounter +was not correct. + +But whatever Mathews' account may have been it could scarcely be more +ludicrous than Sheridan's. The marching and countermarching of the +four gentlemen--it appears that brother Charles, although accompanying +Richard to London, thought it more prudent to remain under cover during +the actual engagement; he waited at Brereton's lodgings--the excuses +made by Mathews in order to get away without fighting, and then at the +last moment, the carrying out (by agreement) of a manouvre which landed +Mathews in one tavern and the rest of the party in another--the set-to +of the principals immediately after the “declarations” of one of them in +favour of the other, and the final catastrophe could hardly be surpassed +by the actions of a pair of burlesque duellists in what is technically +known as a “knockabout” entertainment. + +And after all this scrupulousness of detail one is left in doubt as +to the exact _locale_ of the encounter. Did it take place in the +coffee-room of the Castell Inn, or did the eager combatants retrace +their steps to the “parck”? The document written by Sheridan, though +dealing very fully with the forced marches of the army in the field, +throws no light upon this question of the scene of the battle. In +respect of the signing of the treaty of peace, and the payment of the +indemnity, it is, however, moderately lucid. Sheridan must have told his +sister that Mathews signed the apology immediately after the encounter; +she states this in her narrative. But Mathews did not merely sign the +apology, he wrote every word of it, as one may see by referring to the +facsimile, thoughtfully given in Mr. Fraser Rae's _Life of Sheridan_, +and it would be impossible to say that the caligraphy of the apology +shows the least sign of that perturbation from which one must believe +the writer was suffering at the moment. Its characteristic is neatness. +It is in the fine old-fashioned Italian hand. Even an expert, who sees +possibilities--when paid for it--in handwriting which would never occur +to less imaginative observers, would scarcely venture to say that this +neat little document was written by a man with another's sword at his +throat. + +This is another element in the mystery of the duel, and it cannot be +said that when we read the letter which the elder of the brothers +wrote to his uncle, giving his account of the whole business, we feel +ourselves in a clearer atmosphere. It really seems a pity that Mr. +Browning did not make another _Ring and the Book_ series of studies out +of this amazing duel. Charles Sheridan told his uncle that an apology +was given to Richard by Mathews as a result of Richard's first visit to +him in London, but when Richard read the advertisement in the Chronicle, +which was the original casus belli, he considered this apology so +inadequate that he set off for London to demand another. Charles also +mentions, what neither his brother nor his sister had stated, that he +himself, on reaching London on the Sunday evening, went to Mathews to +endeavour to get a suitable apology--according to Richard's narrative +Charles had good grounds for sending a challenge to Mathews on his own +account--but “after two hours' altercation” he found that he had made no +impression upon the man, so that his brother had no alternative but to +call him out. + +But however the accounts of the lesser details of this affair of honour +may differ, there can be no question that public opinion in Bath was all +in favour of young Mr. Sheridan. It was acknowledged on every hand that +he had acted from the first--that is, from the moment he assumed the +duties of the protector of Miss Linley--with admirable courage, and with +a full sense of what honour demanded of him. In short he came back from +London, after so many sleepless nights, covered with glory. He was a +tall, handsome fellow of twenty, with brilliant eyes; he had run away +with the most beautiful girl in the world to save her from the clutches +of a scoundrel; he had had four nights without sleep, and then he had +fought a duel with the scoundrel and had obtained from him an apology +for insertion in the newspapers. Few young gentlemen starting life +wholly without means attain to so proud a position of achievement before +they reach their majority. + +But of course all these feats of errantry and arms run up a bill. +Young Mr. Sheridan's posting account must have been by itself pretty +formidable, and, knowing that his father had never looked on him with +the favour which he gave to his brother, Richard may now and again have +felt a trifle uneasy at the prospect of meeting Mr. Sheridan. If his +sister's memory is to be trusted, however, this meeting took place +within a week or two of his duel, and no bones were broken. Mr. Sheridan +had a few chiding words to say respecting the debts which his son had +incurred, but these he paid, after obtaining from the boy the usual +promise made under similar conditions before a like tribunal. The +prodigal invariably acts up to his character for prodigality in the +matter of promises of reform. + +Richard Sheridan, being something of a wit, though we do not get many +examples of his faculty in the accounts extant of his early life, and +assuredly not a single example in any of his letters that came into the +hands of his biographers, may have sworn to his father never to run away +with a girl who might be anxious to enter upon a conventual life. At +any rate, his father did not show any great displeasure when he was made +aware of the boy's conduct, though it is worth noting that Mr. Sheridan +took exception to the general conviction that his son's act had been +prompted by the most chivalrous aspirations. + +Mathews, however, had not yet been shaken off. He was back in Bath +almost as soon as the Sheridans, and “malevolent incendiarism” was +in the air. No slander was too base for him to use against Richard +Sheridan, no insinuation too vile. But the popularity of the object of +his calumny was now too firmly established in Bath to be shaken by the +vaporous malevolence of his enemy. Mathews, finding himself thoroughly +discredited in every quarter, did the only sensible thing recorded in +his squalid history--he ran away to his home in Wales. + +He was here unfortunate enough to meet with a man named Barnard, or +Barnett, who acted upon him pretty much as Sir Lucius O'Trigger did upon +Squire Acres, explaining to him that it was quite impossible that +the affair between him and Sheridan should remain as it was. It was +absolutely necessary, he said, that another duel should take place. All +the “incendiarism” in Mathews' nature was aroused by the fiery words of +this man, and the precious pair hurried to Bath, where a challenge was +sent to Sheridan through the hands of his eldest sister, under the guise +of an invitation to some festivity. + +Sheridan was foolish enough to accept the challenge apparently without +consulting with any one competent to advise him. According to his +father the challenge had been preceded by several letters of the +most scurrilous abuse. His wiser brother, who had just received an +appointment as Secretary to the British Legation in Sweden, had gone +to London with their father to make preparations for his departure for +Stockholm, and immediately on hearing of the duel he wrote to Richard a +typical elder brother's letter. It is dated July 3rd, 1772, so that, as +the duel had only taken place the previous day, it cannot be said +that he lost much time in expressing his deep sense of his brother's +foolishness in meeting so great a scoundrel for the second time. “All +your friends have condemned you,” he wrote. “You risked everything, +where you had nothing to gain, to give your antagonist the thing he +wished, a chance for recovering his reputation; he wanted to get rid +of the contemptible opinion he was held in, and you were good-natured +enough to let him do it at your expense. It is not a time to scold, but +all your friends were of opinion you could, with the greatest propriety, +have refused to meet him.” + +Without going into the question as to whether this sort of letter was +the ideal one for one brother to write to another who was lying on his +bed with several wounds in his throat, it is impossible to question the +soundness of the opinion expressed by Charles Sheridan in respect of +Richard's acceptance of Mathews' challenge. The challenge was, however, +accepted, and the duel took place on King's Down, at three o'clock +in the morning. Mathews' friend was Barnett, and Sheridan's a young +gentleman named Paumier, who, it was said, was quite unacquainted with +the rules of the game, and had never even seen a duel being fought. The +accounts which survive of this second meeting of Sheridan and Mathews +make it apparent that, if the first was a scene of comedy, this one was +a tragic burlesque. It is said that Sheridan, on the signal being given, +at once rushed in on his antagonist, endeavouring to disarm him as he +had done upon the former occasion of their meeting, but, tripping over +something, he literally, and not figuratively, fell upon the other, +knocking him down with such violence that he was not only disarmed, but +his sword was broken as well. Sheridan's own sword was also broken, so +that one might fancy that the meeting would have terminated here. It did +nothing of the sort. The encounter was only beginning, and anything more +savagely burlesque than the sequel could not be imagined. + +The combatants must have rolled over, after the manner of the negro +duellists on the variety stage, and when they had settled themselves +each made a grab for the most serviceable fragment of his sword. Mathews +being the heavier man contrived to keep uppermost in the scuffle, and, +what gave him a decided advantage over his opponent, he managed to get +his fingers on the hilt of his broken weapon. An appeal at this stage +was made by the lad who was acting as Sheridan's second to put a stop +to the fight; but the second ruffian, or the ruffian's second--either +description applies to Barnett--declared that as both the antagonists +were on the ground one could not be said to have any advantage over the +other. This delicate question being settled, Mathews held the jagged, +saw-like end--point it had none--of the broken sword at the other's +throat and told him to beg for his life. Sheridan replied that he +should refuse to beg his life from such a scoundrel, and forthwith the +scoundrel began jabbing at his throat and face with the fragment of his +weapon, a method of attack which was not robbed of its butchery by the +appeal that it makes to a reader's sense of its comical aspect. + +It is doubtful, however, if the comic side of the transaction appealed +very forcibly to the unfortunate boy who was being lacerated to death. +He just managed to put aside a thrust or two before the end of the blade +penetrated the flesh of his throat and pinned him to the ground. With a +chuckle and, according to Tom Sheridan's account, an oath, Mathews got +upon his feet, and, entering the coach which was waiting for him, drove +away from the scene of his butchery. Sheridan was thereupon raised from +the ground, and driven in his chaise with his second to the White Hart +Inn. Two surgeons were immediately in attendance, and it was found +that his wounds, though numerous, were not such as placed his life +in jeopardy. They were, however, sufficiently serious to prevent his +removal to his home that day. + +It does not appear that young Paumier told the sisters of the +occurrence; but an account of the duel having appeared in the _Bath +Chronicle_ the same afternoon, every one in the town must have been +talking of it, though Mrs. Lefanu says neither she nor her sister heard +a word of the matter until the next day. Then they hastened to the +White Hart, and prevailed upon the surgeons to allow them to take their +brother home. In a surprisingly short time he had quite recovered. +Indeed, although there was a report that Sheridan's life was despaired +of, there was no excuse for any one taking so gloomy a view of his +hurts, for the exact truth was known to Charles Sheridan and his father +in London early on the day following that of the fight. + +The pathetic part of the story of this ludicrous encounter is to be +found in the story of the reception of the news by Elizabeth Linley. Her +father had read in some of the papers that Sheridan was at the point of +death, but, like the worldly-wise man that Mr. Linley was, he kept +the news from his daughter. They were at Oxford together, and she was +announced to sing at a concert, and he knew that had she learned all +that the newspapers published, she might possibly not be able to do +herself--and her father--justice. But, as one of the audience told his +sister afterwards, the fact that every one who had come to hear Miss +Linley sing was aware of the serious condition (as the papers alleged) +of young Sheridan, and of her attachment to him, a feeling of sympathy +for the lovely young creature added immeasurably to the interest of her +performance. + +At the conclusion of the concert her father set out with her for Bath; +and it was not until they had almost reached their home that their +chaise was met by a clergyman named Pauton, and he summoned all his +tact to enable him to prepare Elizabeth Linley for the news which he was +entrusted to communicate to her. It is said that under the stress of +her emotion the girl declared that Richard Sheridan was her husband, and +that her place was by his side. + +Whatever truth there may be in this story it is certain that if she +believed at that moment that Sheridan was her husband, she gave no sign +of continuing in that belief, for though her numerous letters to him +show that she was devoted to him, there is no suggestion in any of them +that she believed herself to be his wife. On the contrary, there are +many passages which prove that no idea of the sort was entertained by +her. + +The exertions of the heads of the two families were for long directed +against the union of the lovers. Mr. Linley felt more forcibly than +ever that he had had quite enough of the Sheridans, and Tom Sheridan +doubtless wished never to hear again the name of Linley. The one made +his daughter promise on her knees to give up Richard Sheridan, and Mr. +Sheridan compelled his son to forswear any association with Elizabeth +Linley. Jove must have been convulsed with laughter. Richard Brinsley +Sheridan and Elizabeth Ann Linley were married on the 13th of April, +1773. + + + + +A MELODRAMA AT COVENT GARDEN + +ON an evening in April, 1779, the play, “_Love in a Village_” was being +performed at Covent Garden Theatre before a large audience. In the front +row of the boxes sat two ladies, one of them young and handsome, the +other not so young and not so beautiful--a dark-faced, dark-eyed woman +whom no one could mistake for any nationality except Italian. Three +gentlemen who sat behind them were plainly of their party--elegant +gentlemen of fashion, one of them an Irish peer. Every person of +quality in the theatre and a good many others without such a claim to +distinction, were aware of the fact that the most attractive member of +the group was Miss Reay, a lady whose name had been for several years +closely associated--very closely indeed--with that of Lord Sandwich, +the First Lord of the Admiralty, and one of the most unpopular men in +England. She had driven to the theatre in his lordship's carriage, and +two of the gentlemen with whom she conversed freely in the box were high +officials of the department over which his lordship presided. + +Almost from the moment of her arrival, Miss Reay and her friends were +watched eagerly by a hollow-eyed, morose gentleman in black. He looked as +if he had not slept for many nights; and no one observing him could have +failed to perceive that he had come to the theatre not for the sake of +the play which was being performed, but to watch the lady. He kept his +fierce eyes fixed upon her, and he frowned every time that she turned to +make a remark to one of her friends; his eyes blazed every time that one +of her friends smiled over her shoulder, and his hands clenched if she +smiled in return. Several times it seemed as if he found it impossible +to remain in his place in the upper side box, where his seat was, for +he started up and hurried out to the great lobby, walking to and fro in +great agitation. More than once he strode away from the lobby into the +Bedford Coffee House just outside the theatre, and there partook of +brandy and water, returning after brief intervals to stare at Miss Reay +and her companions in the front row of the boxes. + +[Illustration: 0327] + +At the conclusion of the play, he went hastily into the vestibule, +standing to one side, not far from the exit from the boxes; but if he +intended to be close to Miss Reay while she walked to the main exit, his +object was defeated by reason of the crush of people congregating in +the vestibule, the people of quality waiting for their carriages to +be announced, the others waiting for the satisfaction of being in such +close proximity to people of quality. + +Among the crowd there was a lady who had recently become the wife of a +curious gentleman named Lewis, who some years later wrote a grisly +book entitled _The Monk_, bringing him such great fame as cancelled for +posterity the names of Matthew Gregory, given to him by his parents, and +caused him to be identified by the name of his book only. This lady made +a remark to her neighbour in respect of a lovely rose which Miss Reay +was wearing when she left the box exit and stood in the vestibule--a +beautiful rose early in the month of April might have excited remark in +those days; at any rate, Mrs. Lewis has left the record that at the +very moment of her speaking, the rose fell to the floor, and Miss Reay +appeared to be profoundly affected by this trifling incident, and said +in a faltering voice, “I trust that I am not to consider this as an evil +omen!” So Mrs. Lewis stated. + +A few moments later Lord Sandwich's carriage was announced, and Miss +Reay and her companion made a move in the direction of the door. The +gentlemen of the party seem to have left earlier, for on the ladies +being impeded by the crush in the vestibule, a stranger, named Mr. +Macnamara, of Lincoln's Inn, proffered his services to help them to +get to the carriage. Miss Reay thanked him, took his arm, and the crowd +opened for them in some measure. It quickly opened wider under a more +acute persuasion a few seconds later, when the morose gentleman in black +pushed his way among the people until he was within a few feet of the +lady and her escort. Only for a second did he pause--certainly he spoke +no word to Miss Reay or any one else--before he pulled a pistol from his +pocket and fired almost point-blank at her before any one could knock up +his hand. Immediately afterwards he turned a second pistol against his +own forehead and pulled the trigger, and fell to the ground. + +The scene that followed can easily be imagined. Every woman present +shrieked, except Miss Reay, who was supported by Mr. Macnamara. The +ghastly effects of the bullet were apparent not only upon the forehead +of the lady where it lodged, but upon the bespattered garments of every +one about the door, and upon the columns of the hall. Above the shrieks +of the terror-stricken people were heard the yells of the murderer, +who lay on the ground, hammering at his head with the butt end of his +weapon, and crying, “Kill me! Kill me!” + +A Mr. Mahon, of Russell Street, who was said to be an apothecary, was +the first to lay a hand upon the wretched man. He wrested the pistol +from his grasp and prevented him from doing further mischief to himself. +He was quickly handed over to the police, and, with his unfortunate +victim, was removed to the Shakespeare Tavern, a surgeon named Bond +being in prompt attendance. It did not take long to find that Miss Reay +had never breathed after the shot had been fired at her; the bullet had +smashed the skull and passed through the brain. The man remained for +some time unconscious, but even before he recovered he was identified as +James Hackman, a gentleman who had been an officer in the army, and +on retiring had taken Orders, being admitted a priest of the Church of +England scarcely a month before his crime. There were rumours respecting +his infatuation for Miss Reay, and in a surprisingly short space of +time, owing most likely to the exertions of Signora Galli, the Italian +whom Lord Sandwich had hired to be her companion, the greater part of +the romantic story of the wretched man's life, as far as it related to +Miss Reay, was revealed. + +It formed a nine days' wonder during the spring of the same year (1779). +The grief displayed by Lord Sandwich on being made acquainted with the +circumstances of the murder was freely commented on, and the sympathy +which was felt for him may have diminished in some measure from his +unpopularity. The story told by Croker of the reception of the news by +Lord Sandwich is certainly not deficient in detail. “He stood as it +were petrified,” we are told, “till suddenly, seizing a candle, he ran +upstairs and threw himself on the bed, and in agony exclaimed, 'Leave +me for a while to myself, I could have borne anything but this!' The +attendants remained for a considerable time at the top of the staircase, +till his lordship rang the bell and ordered that they should all go to +bed.” + +Before his lordship left the scene of his grief in the morning Sir John +Fielding, the Bow Street magistrate, had arrived at the Shakespeare +Tavern from his house at Brompton, and, after a brief inquiry, ordered +Hackman to be taken to Tothill Fields Prison. In due course he was +committed to Newgate, and on April 16th his trial took place before +Blackstone, the Recorder. The facts of the tragedy were deposed to by +several witnesses, and the cause of the lady's death was certified by +Mr. Bond, the surgeon. The prisoner was then called on for his defence. +He made a brief speech, explaining that he would have pleaded guilty +at once had he not felt that doing so “would give an indication of +contemning death, not suitable to my present condition, and would in +some measure make me accessory to a second peril of my life. And I +likewise thought,” he added, “that the justice of my country ought to +be satisfied by suffering my offence to be proved, and the fact to be +established by evidence.” + +This curious affectation of a finer perception of the balance of justice +than is possessed by most men was quite characteristic of this man, as +was also his subsequent expression of his willingness to submit to the +sentence of the court. His counsel endeavoured to show that he had +been insane from the moment of his purchasing his pistols until he had +committed the deed for which he was being tried--he did not say anything +about “a wave of insanity,” however, though that picturesque phrase +would have aptly described the nature of his plea. He argued that a +letter which was found in the prisoner's pocket, and in which suicide +only was threatened, should be accepted as proof that he had no +intention of killing Miss Reay when he went to the theatre. + +The Recorder, of course, made short work of such a plea. He explained to +the jury that “for a plea of insanity to be successful it must be shown +not merely that it was a matter of fits and starts, but that it was +a definite thing--a total loss of reason and incapability of reason.” + Referring to the letter, he said that it seemed to him to argue a +coolness and premeditation incompatible with such insanity as he +described. + +The result was, as might have been anticipated, the jury, without +leaving the box, found Hackman guilty, and he was sentenced to be +hanged. + +Mr. Boswell, who was nearly as fond of hearing death-sentences +pronounced as he was of seeing them carried out, was present in the +court during the trial, and to him Mr. Booth, the brother-in-law of the +prisoner, applied--he himself had been too greatly agitated to be able +to remain in the court--for information as to how Hackman had deported +himself, and Boswell was able to assure him that he had behaved “as +well, sir, as you or any of his friends could wish; with decency, +propriety, and in such a manner as to interest every one present. He +might have pleaded that he shot Miss Reay by accident, but he fairly +told the truth that in a moment of frenzy he did intend it.” + +While he was in the condemned cell at Newgate he received a message from +Lord Sandwich to the effect that if he wished for his life, he (Lord +Sandwich) had influence with the King, and might succeed in obtaining +a commutation of his sentence. Hackman replied that he had no wish to +live, but he implored his lordship to give him such assurance that those +whom Miss Reay had left behind her would be carefully looked after, as +would, on meeting her in another world, enable him to make this pleasing +communication to her. + +He spent the few days that remained to him in writing fervid letters to +his friends and in penning moralisings, in a style which was just the +smallest degree more pronounced than that which was fashionable at his +period--the style of the sentimental hero of Richardson and his inferior +followers. + +His execution at Tyburn attracted the most enormous crowds ever seen +upon such an occasion. The carriage in which the wretched man was +conveyed to the gibbet could only proceed at a walking pace; but still, +the vehicle which followed it, containing the Earl of Carlisle and +James Boswell, arrived in good time for the final scene of this singular +tragedy, which for weeks, as the Countess of Ossory wrote to George +Selwyn, was the sole topic of conversation. + +And, as a matter of course, Horace Walpole had something to communicate +to one of his carefully-selected correspondents. Oddly enough it was +to a parson he wrote to express the opinion that he was still uncertain +“whether our clergy are growing Mahometans or not”; adding sagely, “they +certainly are not what they profess themselves; but as you and I should +not agree, perhaps, in assigning the same defects to them, I will not +enter on a subject which I have promised you to drop, all I allude to +now is the shocking murder of Miss Reay by a divine. In my own opinion +we are growing more fit for Bedlam than for Mahomet's paradise. The poor +criminal, I am persuaded, is mad, and the misfortune is the law does +not know how to define the shades of madness; and thus there are twenty +out-pensioners of Bedlam for one that is confined.” + +Most persons will come to the conclusion that the judge who tried +Hackman made a most successful attempt to expound to the jury exactly +where the law drew a line in differentiating between the man who should +be sent to Bedlam and the man who should be sent to Tyburn, and will +agree with the justice of the law that condemned to the gallows this +divine of three weeks' standing for committing an atrocious crime, even +though the chances are that Hackman spoke the truth when he affirmed +that he had brought his pistols down to the theatre with no more +felonious intent than to blow out his own brains in the presence of the +lady and to fall dead at her feet. At the same time one is not precluded +from agreeing with Walpole's opinion that the people of his period were +growing more fit for Bedlam than for Eblis. + +The truth is that an extraordinary wave of what was called +“sensibility” was passing over England at that time. It was a wave of +sentimentality--that maudlin sentimentality which was the exquisite +characteristic of the hero and heroine of almost every novel that +attained to any degree of success. To people who have formed their ideas +of the latter half of the eighteenth century from studying Boswell's +_Life of Johnson_, every page of which shows a healthy common sense; +or from the plates of Hogarth--robust even to a point of vulgarity--it +would seem incredible that there should exist in England at practically +the same time a cult of the maudlin and the lachrymose. Such a cult had, +however, obtained so great a hold on a large section of society that all +the satire of Smollett, Sterne, and Goldsmith, was unable to ridicule it +out of existence. + +And the worst of the matter was that the types of these weeping +sentimentalists were not unreal. They began by being unreal, but in the +course of a short time they became real, the fact being that people in +all directions began to frame their conduct and their conversation upon +these flaccid creatures of the unhealthy fancy of third-rate novelists +and fourth-rate poetasters. More than once, it may be remarked, even +in our own time “movements” have had their origin in the fancy of a +painter--in one case of a subtle caricaturist. An artist possessed of +a distorted sense of what is beautiful in woman has been able to set +a certain fashion in the unreal, until people were well-nigh persuaded +that it was the painter who had taken the figures in his pictures from +the persons who had simply sought a cheap notoriety by adopting the +pose and the dress of the scraggy posturantes for whose anatomy he was +responsible. + +So it was that, when certain novel-writers in the eighteenth century, +having no experience of the life which they attempted to depict, brought +forth creatures out of their own unhealthy imaginations, and placed them +before their readers as types of heroes and heroines, the public never +failed to include quite a number of readers who were ready to live up to +all those essentials that constituted the personages of the fiction. + +And not alone over England had the sighs of a perpetually sighing hero +and heroine sent a lachrymose flood; France and Germany, if not actually +inundated, were at least rendered humid by its influence. _The Sorrows +of Werther_ was only one of the many books which helped on the cult of +the sentimental, and it was as widely read in England as in Germany. +Gessner's _Death of Abel_ had an enormous vogue in its English +translation. The boarding-school version of the tale of Abelard and +Heloise was also much wept over both in France and Germany; and the +true story of James Hackman and Martha Reay, as recorded by the +correspondence of the pair, published shortly after the last scene in +the tragedy had been enacted, and reissued with connecting notes some +twelve years ago, might pass only as a somewhat crude attempt to surpass +these masterpieces of fancy-woven woes. James and Martha might have been +as happy as thousands of other Jameses and Marthas have been, but they +chose to believe that the Fates were bothering themselves with this +particular case of James and Martha--they chose to feel that they were +doomed to a life of sorrowful love--at any rate, this was Martha's +notion--and they kept on exchanging emotional sentiments until James's +poor head gave way, and he sought to end up their romance in accordance +with the mode of the best models, stretching himself a pallid corpse at +the feet of his Martha; but then it was that Fate put out a meddlesome +finger, and so caused the scene of the last chapter to take place at +Tyburn. + +The romance of Mr. Hackman and Miss Reay would never have taken place, +if Lord Sandwich had been as exemplary a husband as George III or Dr. +Johnson or Edmund Burke--the only exemplary husbands of the eighteenth +century that one can recall at a moment's notice. Unhappily his lordship +was one of the many examples of the unexemplary husband of that period. +If the Earl of Chesterfield advanced the ill-treatment of a wife to one +of the fine arts, it may be said that the Earl of Sandwich made it one +of the coarse. He was brutal in his treatment of the Countess, and never +more so than when he purchased the pretty child that Miss Reay must have +been at the age of thirteen, and had her educated to suit his tastes. +He went about the transaction with the same deliberation as a gourmand +might display in ordering his dinner. He was extremely fond of music, +so he had the child's education in this direction carefully attended +to. His place at Hinchinbrook had been the scene of the performance of +several oratorios, his lordship taking his place in the orchestra at the +kettledrums; and he hoped that by the time he should have his purchase +sent home, her voice would be equal to the demands put upon it by the +most exacting of the sacred soprano music of Handel or Gluck. + +As it turned out he was not disappointed. Martha Reay, when she went to +live at Hinchinbrook at the age of eighteen, showed herself to be a most +accomplished young lady, as she certainly was a very charming one. She +was found to possess a lovely voice, and was quite fitted to take +her place, not merely in his lordship's music-room, but also in his +drawing-room to which he advanced her. To say that she was treated as +one of his lordship's family would be to convey a wrong impression, +considering how he treated the principal member of his family, but +certainly he introduced her to his guests, and she took her place at his +table at dinner parties. He even put her next to the wife of a bishop +upon one occasion, feeling sure that she would captivate that lady, +and as it turned out, his anticipations were fully realised; only the +bishop's lady, on making inquiries later on, protested that she was +scandalised by being placed in such a position as permitted of her +yielding to the fascinations of a young person occupying a somewhat +equivocal position in the household. + +It was when she was at Hinchinbrook, in October, 1775, that Miss Reay +met the man who was to play so important a part in her life--and death. +Cradock, the “country gentleman,” tells in his _Memoirs_ the story of +the first meeting of the two. Lord Sandwich was anxious that a friend of +his own should be elected to a professorship at Cambridge, and Cradock, +having a vote, was invited to use it on behalf of his lordship's +candidate, and to stay for a night at Hinchinbrook on his way back to +London. He travelled in Lord Sandwich's coach, and when in the act of +driving through the gateway at Hinchinbrook, it overtook a certain Major +Reynolds and another officer who was stationed on recruiting duty in the +neighbourhood. Lord Sandwich, being acquainted with Reynolds, dismounted +and invited him and his friend to a family dinner at his lordship's +place that evening. Major Reynolds expressed his appreciation of this +act of courtesy, and introduced his friend as Captain Hackman. The party +was a simple affair. + +It consisted of Lord Sandwich, Miss Reay, another lady, the two +officers, and Mr. Cradock. After coffee had been served two rubbers of +whist were played, and the party broke up. + +This was the first meeting of Hackman and Miss Reay. They seem to have +fallen in love immediately, each with the other, for the first letter in +the correspondence, written in December, 1775, contains a good deal that +suggests the adolescence of a passion. Hackman was a man of education and +some culture, and he showed few signs of developing into that maudlin +sentimentalist who corresponded with the lady a year or two later. He +was but twenty-three years of age, the son of a retired officer in the +navy, who had sent him to St. John's College, Cambridge, and afterwards +bought him a commission in the 68th Foot. He was probably only an +ensign when he was stationed at Huntingdon, but being in charge of the +recruiting party, enjoyed the temporary rank of captain. + +He must have had a pretty fair conceit of his own ability as a +correspondent, for he kept a copy of his love letters. Of course, there +is no means of ascertaining if he kept copies of all that he ever wrote; +he may have sent off some in the hot passion of the moment, but those +which passed into the hands of his brother-in-law and were afterwards +published, were copies which he had retained. Miss Reay was doubtless +discreet enough to destroy the originals before they had a chance of +falling into the hands of Lord Sandwich. It is difficult for us who +live in this age of scrawls and “correspondence cards” to imagine the +existence of that enormous army of letter-writers who flourished +their quills in the eighteenth century, for the entertainment of their +descendants in the nineteenth and twentieth; but still more difficult +is it to understand how, before the invention of any mechanical means +of reproducing manuscript, these voluminous correspondents first made +a rough draft of every letter, then corrected and afterwards copied +it, before sending it--securing a frank from a friendly Member of +Parliament--to its destination. + +Superlatively difficult is it to imagine an ardent lover sitting down to +transcribe into the pages of a notebook the outpourings of his passion. +But this is what Ensign Hackman did, although so far as the consequences +of his love-making were concerned, he is deserving of a far higher place +among great lovers than Charlotte's Werther, or Mr. Swinburne's Dolores. +Charlotte we know “went on cutting bread and butter” after the death of +her honourable lover; but poor little Miss Reay was the victim of the +passion which she undoubtedly fanned into a flame of madness. Ensign +Hackman made copies of his love-letters, and we are grateful to him, for +by their aid we can perceive the progress of his disease. They are +like the successive pictures in a biograph series lately exhibited at a +conversazione of the Royal Society, showing the development of a blossom +into a perfect flower. We see by the aid of these letters how he gave +way under the attack of what we should now call the bacillus of that +maudlin sentimentality which was in the air in his day. + +He began his love-letters like a gallant officer, but ended them in the +strain of the distracted curate who had been jilted just when he has +laid down the cork lino in the new study and got rid of the plumbers. He +wrote merrily of his “Corporal Trim,” who was the bearer of a “billet” + from her. “He will be as good a soldier to Cupid as to Mars, I dare say. +And Mars and Cupid are not now to begin their acquaintance, you know.” + Then he goes on to talk in a fine soldierly strain of the drum “beating +for volunteers to Bacchus. In plain English, the drum tells me dinner is +ready, for a drum gives us bloody-minded heroes an appetite for eating +as well as for fighting.... Adieu--whatever hard service I may have +after dinner, no quantity of wine shall make me let drop or forget my +appointment with you tomorrow. We certainly were not seen yesterday, for +reasons I will give you.” + +This letter was written on December 7th, and it was followed by another +the next day, and a still longer one the day following. In fact, +Corporal Trim must have been kept as busy as his original in the service +of Uncle Toby, during the month of December, his duty being to receive +the lady's letters, as well as to deliver the gentleman's, and he seems +to have been equally a pattern of fidelity. + +Hackman's letters at this time were models of good taste, with only +the smallest amount of swagger in them. His intentions were strictly +honourable, and they were not concealed within any cocoon of sentimental +phraseology. One gathers from his first letters that he was a simple and +straightforward gentleman, who, having fallen pretty deeply in love +with a young woman, seeks to make her his wife at the earliest possible +moment. Unfortunately however, the lady had fallen under the influence +of the prevailing affectation, and her scheme of life did not include a +commonplace marriage with a subaltern in a marching regiment. One might +be disposed to say that she knew when she was well off. The aspiration +to be made “a respectable woman” by marriage in a church was not +sufficiently strong in her to compel her to sacrifice the many good +things with which she was surrounded, in order to realise it. But, of +course, she was ready to pose as a miserable woman, linked to a man +whom she did not love, but too honourable to leave him, and far too +thoughtful for the career of the man whom she did love with all her soul +ever to become a burden to him. She had read the ballad of “Auld Robin +Gray”--she quoted it in full in one of her letters--and she was greatly +interested to find how closely her case resembled that of the wife in +the poem. She had brought herself to think of the man who had bought her +just as he would buy a peach tree, or a new tulip, as her “benefactor.” + Did she not owe to him the blessing of a good education, and the culture +of her voice, her knowledge of painting--nay, her “keep” for several +years, and her introduction to the people of quality who visited at +Hinchinbrook and at the Admiralty? She seemed to think it impossible +for any one to doubt that Lord Sandwich had acted toward her with +extraordinary generosity, and that she would be showing the most +contemptible ingratitude were she to forsake so noble a benefactor. But +all the same she found Hinchinbrook intolerably dull at times, and she +was so pleased at the prospect of having a lover, that she came to fancy +that she loved the first one who turned up. + +She was undoubtedly greatly impressed by the ballad of “Auld Robin +Gray,” and she at once accepted the rôle of the unhappy wife, only she +found it convenient to modify one rather important line-- + +“I fain would think o' Jamie, but that would be a sin.” + +She was fain to think on her Jamie whether it was a sin or not, but she +did so without having the smallest intention of leaving her Auld Robin +Gray. So whimsical an interpretation of the poem could scarcely occur +to any one not under the influence of the sentimental malady of the day; +but it served both for Miss Reay and her Jamie. They accepted it, and +became deeply sensible of its pathos as applied to themselves. Ensign +Hackman assured her that he was too high-minded to dream of making love +to her under the roof of Lord Sandwich, her “benefactor.” + +“Our love, the inexorable tyrant of our hearts,” he wrote, “claims his +sacrifices, but does not bid us insult his lordship's walls with it. +How civilly did he invite me to Hinchinbrook in October last, though an +unknown recruiting officer. How politely himself first introduced me to +himself! Often has the recollection made me struggle with my passion. +Still it shall restrain it on this side honour.” + +This was in reply to her remonstrance, and probably she regretted that +she had been so strenuous in pointing out to him how dreadful it would +be were she to show herself wanting in gratitude to Lord Sandwich. She +wanted to play the part of Jenny, the lawful wife of Robin Gray, with +as few sacrifices as possible, and she had no idea of sacrificing +young Jamie, the lover, any more than she had of relinquishing the many +privileges she enjoyed at Hinchinbrook by making Jamie the lover into +Jamie the husband. + +It is very curious to find Hackman protesting to her all this time that +his passions are “wild as the torrent's roar,” apologising for making +his simile water when the element most congenial to his nature was fire. +“Swift had water in his brain. I have a burning coal of fire; your hand +can light it up to rapture, rage, or madness. Men, real men, have never +been wild enough for my admiration, it has wandered into the ideal world +of fancy. Othello (but he should have put himself to death in his wife's +sight, not his wife), Zanga are my heroes. Milk-and-water passions are +like sentimental comedy.” + +Read in the light of future events this letter has a peculiar +significance. Although he became more sentimental than the hero of any +of the comedies at which he was sneering, he was still able to make an +honest attempt to act up to his ideal of Othello. “_He should have put +himself to death in his wife's sight_.” It will be remembered that he +pleaded at his trial that he had no design upon the life of Miss Reay, +but only aimed at throwing himself dead at her feet. + +Equally significant are some of the passages in the next letters which +he wrote to her. They show that even within the first month of his +acquaintance with his Martha his mind had a peculiar bent. He was giving +his attention to Hervey's _Meditations_, and takes pains to point out to +her two passages which he affirms to be as fine as they are natural. Did +ever love-letter contain anything so grisly? “A beam or two finds its +way through the grates (of the vault), and reflects a feeble glimness +from the nails of the coffins.” This is one passage--ghastly enough +in all conscience. But it is surpassed by the others which he quotes: +“Should the haggard skeleton lift a clattering hand.” Respecting the +latter he remarks, “I know not whether the epithet 'haggard' might +not be spared.” It is possible that the lady on receiving this curious +love-letter was under the impression that the whole passage might have +been spared her. + +But he seems to have been supping off horrors at this time, for he goes +on to tell a revolting story about the black hole of Calcutta; and then +he returns with zest to his former theme of murder and suicide. He had +been reading the poem of “Faldoni and Teresa,” by Jerningham, and he +criticises it quite admirably. “The melancholy tale will not take up +three words, though Mr. J. has bestowed upon it 335 melancholy lines,” + he tells the young lady. “Two lovers, meeting with an invincible +object to their union, determined to put an end to their existence +with pistols. The place they chose for the execution of their terrible +project was a chapel that stood at a little distance from the house. +They even decorated the altar for the occasion, they paid a particular +attention to their own dress. Teresa was dressed in white with +rose-coloured ribbands. The same coloured ribbands were tied to the +pistols. Each held the ribband that was fastened to the other's trigger, +which they drew at a certain signal.” His criticism of the poem includes +the remark that Faldoni and Teresa might be prevented from making +proselytes by working up their affecting story so as to take off the +edge of the dangerous example they offer. This, he says, the author has +failed to do, and he certainly proves his point later by affirming that +“while I talk of taking off the dangerous edge of their example, they +have almost listed me under their bloody banners.” + +This shows the morbid tendency of the man's mind, though it must be +confessed that nearly all the remarks which he makes on ordinary topics +are eminently sane and well considered. + +A few days later we find him entering with enthusiasm into a scheme, +suggested by her, of meeting while she was on her way to London, and it +is plain from the rapturous letter which he wrote to her that their plot +was successful; but when she reached town she had a great deal to occupy +her, so that it is not strange she should neglect him for a time. The +fact was, as Cradock states in his _Memoirs_, that the unpopularity of +Lord Sandwich and Miss Reay had increased during the winter to such a +point that it became dangerous for them to show themselves together in +public. Ribald ballads were sung under the windows of the Admiralty, and +Cradock more than once heard some strange insults shouted out by +people in the park. It was at this time that she spoke to Cradock about +appearing in opera, and he states that it reached his ears that she had +been offered three thousand pounds and a free benefit (a possible extra +five hundred) for one season's performances. + +Now if she had really been in love with Hackman this was surely the +moment when she should have gone to him, suffered him to marry her, and +thus made up by a few years on the lyric stage for any deficiency in his +fortune or for the forfeiture of any settlement her “benefactor” might +have been disposed to make in her favour. But she seems to have shown a +remarkable amount of prudence throughout the whole of her intrigue, and +she certainly had a premonition of the danger to which she was exposed +by her connection with him. “Fate stands between us,” she wrote in +reply to one of his impetuous upbraiding letters. “We are doomed to be +wretched. And I, every now and then, think some terrible catastrophe +will be the result of our connection. 'Some dire event,' as Storge +prophetically says in _Jephtha_, 'hangs over our heads.' Oh, that it +were no crime to quit this world like Faldoni and Teresa... by your hand +I could even die with pleasure. I know I could.” + +An extraordinary premonition, beyond doubt, to write thus, and one is +tempted to believe that she had ceased for a moment merely to play the +part of the afflicted heroine. But her allusion to Jephtha and, later in +the same letter, to a vow which she said she had made never to marry +him so long as she was encumbered with debts, alleging that this was +the “insuperable reason” at which she had hinted on a previous occasion, +makes one suspicious. One feels that if she had not been practising the +music of _Jephtha_ she would not have thought about her vow not to marry +him until she could go to him free from debt. Why, she had only to sing +three times to release herself from that burden. + +Some time afterwards she seems to have suggested such a way of getting +over her difficulties, but it is pretty certain she knew that he would +never listen to her. Her position at this time was undoubtedly one +of great difficulty. Hackman was writing to her almost every day, and +becoming more high-minded and imperious in every communication, and she +was in terror lest some of his letters should fall into the hands of +Lord Sandwich. She was ready to testify to his lordship's generosity in +educating her to suit his own tastes, but she suspected its strength to +withstand such a strain as would be put on it if he came upon one of Mr. +Hackman's impetuous letters. + +She thought that when she had induced her lover to join his regiment +in Ireland she had extricated herself from one of the difficulties that +surrounded her; and had she been strong enough to refrain from +writing to the man, she might have been saved from the result of her +indiscretion. Unhappily for herself, however, she felt it incumbent on +her to resume her correspondence with him. Upon one occasion she sent +him a bank-note for fifty pounds, but this he promptly returned with +a very proper letter. Indeed, all his letters from Ireland are +interesting, being far less impassioned than those which she wrote to +him. Again she mentioned having read _Werther_, and he promptly begged +of her to send the book to him. “If you do not,” he adds, “I positively +never will forgive you. Nonsense, to say it will make me unhappy, or +that I shall not be able to read it! Must I pistol myself because a +thick-blooded German has been fool enough to set the example, or because +a German novelist has feigned such a story?” + +But it would appear that she knew the man's nature better than he +himself did, for she quickly replied: “The book you mention is just the +only book you should never read. On my knees I beg that you will never, +never read it!” But if he never read _Werther_ he was never without some +story of the same type to console him for its absence, and he seems to +have gloated over the telling of all to her. One day he is giving her +the particulars of a woman who committed suicide in Enniskillen because +she married one man while she was in love with another. His comment is, +“She, too, was _Jenny_ and had her _Robin Gray_.” His last letter from +Ireland was equally morbid. In it he avowed his intention, if he were +not granted leave of absence for the purpose of visiting her, of selling +out of his regiment. He kept his promise but too faithfully. He sold out +and crossed to England without delay, arriving in London only to find +Miss Reay extremely ill. + +His attempts to cheer her convalescence cannot possibly be thought very +happy. He describes his attendance upon the occasion of the hanging of +Dr. Dodd, the clergyman who had committed forgery; and this reminds +him that he was unfortunately out of England when one Peter Tolosa was +hanged for killing his sweetheart, so that he had no chance of taking +part in this ceremony as well, although, he says, unlike George +S.--meaning Selwyn--he does not make a profession of attending +executions; adding that “the friend and historian of Paoli hired a +window by the year, looking out on the Grass Market in Edinburgh, +where malefactors were hanged.” This reference to Boswell is somewhat +sinister. All this letter is devoted to a minute account of the +execution of Dodd, and another deals with the revolting story of the +butchery of Monmouth, which he suggests to her as an appropriate subject +for a picture. + +At this time he was preparing for ordination, and, incidentally, for +the culmination of the tragedy of his life. He had undoubtedly become a +monomaniac, his “subject” being murder and suicide. His last lurid story +was of a footman who, “having in vain courted for some time a servant +belonging to Lord Spencer, at last caused the banns to be put up at +church without her consent, which she forbad. Being thus disappointed +he meditated revenge, and, having got a person to write a letter to her +appointing a meeting, he contrived to waylay her, and surprise her in +Lord Spencer's park. On her screaming he discharged a pistol at her and +made his escape.” + +“Oh love, love, canst thou not be content to make fools of thy slaves,” + he wrote, “to make them miserable, to make them what thou pleasest? Must +thou also goad them on to crimes?” + +Only two more letters did he write to his victim. He took Orders and +received the living of Wiveton, in Norfolk, seeming to take it for +granted that, in spite of her repeated refusals to marry him, she +would relent when she heard of the snug parsonage. This was acting on +precisely the same lines as the butler of whom he wrote. When he found +that Miss Reay was determined to play the part taken by the servant in +the same story, the wretched man hurried up to London and bought his +pistols. + +The whole story is a pitiful one. That the man was mad no one except a +judge and jury could doubt. That his victim was amply punished for her +indiscretion in leading him on even the strictest censor of conduct must +allow. + + + + +THE COMEDY AT DOWNING STREET + +IT was possibly because she was still conscious of having occupied the +commanding position of one of the royal bridesmaids, in spite of the +two years that had elapsed since King George III married his homely +Mecklenburg princess, that Lady Susan Fox-Strangways, the daughter of +the first Earl of Ilchester, became so autocratic during the rehearsal +of the Downing Street Comedy. A pretty fair amount of comedy as well +as tragedy--with a preponderance of farce--has been played in the same +street from time to time, but the special piece in which Lady Susan +was interesting herself was to be played at the house of Sir Francis +Délavai, and its name was _The School for Lovers_. It had been +originally produced by Mr. David Garrick at Drury Lane Theatre, an +occasion upon which a young Irish gentleman called O'Brien, who had +disgraced himself by becoming an actor, had attained great distinction. +The piece had drawn the town during its protracted run of eight nights, +and Sir Francis Delaval's company of amateurs perceived that it was just +the play for them. It was said by the critics that, for the first time +for many years, an actor had been found capable of playing the part of +a gentleman of fashion as if to the manner born. They referred to the +acting of Mr. O'Brien, about whose gentlemanly qualities there could +be no doubt. Even his own brother actors affirmed that no such perfect +gentleman as that of O'Brien's creating had ever been seen on the stage. +So said Lee Lewes. Another excellent judge, named Oliver Goldsmith, +declared that William O'Brien was an elegant and accomplished actor. + +Of course this was the character, every aspiring amateur affirmed, to +which a gentleman-born would do ample justice. When O'Brien, who was an +actor, had represented the part with distinction, how much better +would it not be played by the real thing--the real gentleman who might +undertake it? + +That was the very plausible reasoning of the “real gentleman” who hoped +to win applause by appearing in O'Brien's part in the comedy at Downing +Street. But when the piece was rehearsed with the young Viscount +B-------- in the character, Lady Susan threw up her hands, and +threatened to throw up her part as well. + +“Lud!” she cried to her associates in the temporary green-room, “Lud! +you would fancy that he had never seen a gentleman of fashion in his +life! Why cannot he act himself instead of somebody else? When he comes +from rehearsal he is the very character itself, but the moment he begins +to speak his part he is no more the part than the link-boy.” + +Every one present agreed with her--the young gentlemen who were anxious +to have the reversion of the part were especially hearty in their +acquiescence. + +But there could be no doubt about the matter, Lord B------ was +deplorably incompetent. He was not even consistently incompetent, for +in one scene in the second act, where there was an element of boisterous +humour, he was tame and spiritless; but in the love-making scene, which +brought the third act to a close, he was awkward, and so anxious to show +his spirit that he became as vulgar as any country clown making advances +to his Meg or Polly. + +And of course he felt all the time that he was doing amazingly well. + +Lady Susan was angry at first, and then she became witty. Her sallies, +directed against him in every scene, were, however, lost upon him, no +matter how calculated they were to sting him; he was too self-satisfied +to be affected by any criticism that might be offered to him by man or +woman. + +And then Lady Susan was compelled to abandon her wit and to become +natural. She flounced off the stage when her lover (in the play) was +more than commonly loutish, and burst into tears of vexation in the arms +of her dear friend Lady Sarah Lennox. + +“I never had such a chance until now,” she cried. “Never, oh, never! +The part might have been written for me; and I implore of you, Sarah, to +tell me candidly if Mrs. Abington or Mrs. Clive could act it with more +sprightliness than I have shown in that last scene?” + +“Impossible, my sweet Sue!” cried her friend. “I vow that I have never +seen anything more arch than your mock rejection of your lover, only to +draw him on.” + +“You dear creature!” cried Lady Sue. “You are a true friend and a +competent critic, Sarah. But what signifies my acting, perfect though +it be, when that--that idiot fails to respond in any way to the spirit +which I display? The whole play will be damned, and people who know +nothing of the matter will spread the report that 'twas my lack of power +that brought about the disaster.” + +“They cannot be so vile,” said Lady Sarah soothingly. + +“But they will. I know how vile some of our friends can be when it suits +them, and when they are jealous of the acquirements of another. They +will sneer at my best scenes--oh, the certainty that they will do so +will be enough to make my best scenes fail. But no! they shall not have +the chance of maligning me. I will go to Sir Francis and resign my part. +Yes, I will! I tell you I shall!” + +The indignant young lady, with something of the stage atmosphere still +clinging to her, flung herself with the gesture of a tortured heroine, +proud and passionate, toward the door of the room to which the two +ladies had retired. But before she had her fingers on the handle the +door opened and Sir Francis Délavai entered. + +“A thousand pardons, my dear ladies,” he cried, bowing to the carpet. “I +had forgot for the moment that when a man turns his house into a theatre +he can call no room in it his own. But I should be a churl to suggest +that any room in my poor house would not be made beautiful by the +presence of your ladyships. After all, this is only my library, and a +library is only a polite name for a dormitory, and a--but what is this? +I said not a lacrymatory.” + +He was looking curiously into Lady Susan's face, which retained the +marks of her recent tears. + +“Dear Sir Francis, you have come in good time,” said Lady Sarah boldly. +“Here is this poor child weeping her heart out because she is condemned +to play the part of--of what's her name?--the lady in the play who had +to make love to an ass?” + +“Oh, sir, mine is a far worse plight,” said Lady Susan, pouting. “It +were bad enough for one to have to make love to an ass, but how much +worse is't not for one to be made love to by--by--my Lord B------?” + +“That were a calculation far above my powers,” said Sir Francis. “My +lord has never made love to me, but if rumour and the gossip at White's +speak even a soupçon of truth, his lordship is well practised in the +art--if love-making is an art.” + +“Sir, 'tis a combination of all the arts,” said Lady Susan; “and yet +my lord cannot simulate the least of them, which is that of being a +gentleman, when he makes love to me on the stage, through the character +of Captain Bellaire in our play.” + +“To be plain, Sir Francis,” said Lady Sarah, as though the other had not +been plain enough in her explanation, “To be plain, Lady Susan, +rather than be associated in any measure with such a failure as your +theatricals are bound to be if my Lord B------ remains in the part of +her lover, has made up her mind to relinquish her part. But believe me, +sir, she does so with deep regret.” + +“Hence these tears,” said Sir Francis. “My poor child, you are indeed in +a pitiable state if you are so deeply chagrined at a clumsy love-making +merely on the stage.” + +“Merely on the stage?” cried Lady Susan. “Lud, Sir Francis, have you not +the wit to see that to be made love to indifferently on the stage is far +more unendurable than it would be in private, since in the one case you +have the eyes of all the people upon you, whereas in the other case you +are as a rule alone?” + +“As a rule,” said Sir Francis. “Yes, I perceive the difference, and I +mingle mine own turgid tears with your limpid drops. But we cannot spare +you from our play.” + +“No, you cannot, Sir Francis, but you can spare Lord B------, and so can +the play,” suggested Lady Sarah. + +“What, you would have me turn him out of the part?” said Sir Francis. + +“Even so--but with politeness,” said Lady Sarah. + +“Perhaps your ladyship has solved the problem how to kick a man out of +your house politely. If so, I would willingly pay you for the recipe; I +have been in search of it all my life,” said Sir Francis. + +“Surely, sir, if you kick a man hard enough with your slippers on he +will leave your house as surely as if you wear the boots of a Life +Guardsman,” said Lady Susan timidly. + +“I doubt it not, madam; but before trying such an experiment it would be +well to make sure that the fellow does not wear boots himself.” + +“Psha! Sir Francis. If a man were to beg leave to measure the thickness +of his enemy's soles before offering to kick him there would be very few +cases of assault and battery,” cried Lady Susan. + +“That is good philosophy--see what we have come to--philosophy, when we +started talking of lovemaking,” said Sir Francis. + +“However we have digressed in conversation, sir, our minds remain +steadfast on the point round which we have been circling,” said Lady +Sarah. + +“And that is------” + +“That Lord B------must go.” + +The door was thrown open and Lord B------ entered. + +“A good preliminary--one must come before one goes,” whispered Sir +Francis to the ladies. + +His lordship was evidently perturbed. He scarcely bowed either to Sir +Francis or the ladies. + +“I was told that you had come hither, Sir Francis,” he said, “so I +followed you.” + +“You do me honour, my lord,” said Sir Francis. + +“I took a liberty, sir; but this is not a time for punctilio. I have +come to resign my part in your play, sir,” said his lordship. + +“Oh, surely not, my lord,” cried Sir Francis. “What would the _School +for Lovers_ be without Bellaire, my lord? Why only now Lady Susan was +saying--what is it that your ladyship said?” + +“It had something to do with philosophy and the sole of a grenadier,” + said Lady Sarah interposing. + +“Nay, was it not that his lordship's impersonation made you think of +a scene from _Midsummer Night's Dream?_” said Sir Francis. “One of +the most beautiful of Shakespeare's plays, is't not, my lord?--fantasy +mingled with irony, an oasis of fairyland in the midst of a desert of +daily life.” + +“I know nothing about your fairyland, sir, but I have been told +within the hour that her ladyship”--he bowed in the direction of Lady +Susan--“has, during the three rehearsals which we have had of the play, +been sneering in a covert way at my acting of the part of Bellaire, +although to my face she seemed delighted, and thus----” + +“Are you sure that your informant was right in his interpretation of her +ladyship's words? Surely your lordship--a man of the world--would have +been sensible of every shade of her ladyship's meaning?” + +“I have been told by one on whose judgment I can rely that Lady Susan +was speaking in sarcasm when she complimented me before the rest of the +company. I did not take her as doing so for myself, I must confess. I +have always believed--on insufficient evidence, I begin to fear--that +her ladyship was a discriminating critic--even now if she were to assure +me that she was not speaking in sarcasm----” + +“Oh, lud! he is relenting,” whispered Lady Sarah. + +“Did you speak, madam?” said his lordship. + +“I was protesting against a too early exercise of your lordship's +well-known spirit of forgiveness,” said her ladyship. + +“I thank you, Lady Sarah; I am, I know, too greatly inclined to take a +charitable view of--of--Why, sink me if she, too, is not trying to +make me look ridiculous!” cried his lordship. + +“Nay, my lord, I cannot believe that Lady Sarah would be at the pains to +do for you what you can so well do for yourself,” remarked Lady Susan. + +His lordship looked at her--his mouth was slightly open--then he gazed +at the smiling features of the beautiful Lady Sarah, lastly at the +perfectly expressionless features of Sir Francis. + +“A plot--a plot!” he murmured. Then he struck a commonplace theatrical +attitude, the “exit attitude” of the man who tells you that his time +will come, though appearances are against him for the moment. He pointed +a firm forefinger at Lady Susan, saying: “I wash my hands clear of you +all. I have done with you and your plays. Get another man to fill my +place if you can.” + +Then he rushed out through the open door. He seemed to have a shrewd +suspicion that if he were to wait another moment one at least of the +girls would have an effective answer to his challenge, and it is quite +likely that his suspicion was well founded. As it was, however, owing +to his wise precipitancy he heard no more than the pleasant laughter--it +really was pleasant laughter, though it did not sound so to him--of the +two girls. + +But when the sound of the slamming of the hall-door reached the library +the laughter in that apartment suddenly ceased. Sir Francis Délavai +looked at each of the ladies, and both of them looked at him. For +some moments no word was exchanged between them. At last one of them +spoke--it was, strange to say, the man. + +“This is vastly fine, ladies,” he remarked. “You have got rid of your +_bête-noire_, Lady Susan; that, I say, is vastly fine, but where are you +to find a _bête-blanche_ to take his place?” + +“Surely we can find some gentleman willing to act the part of Bellaire?” + said Lady Sarah. + +“Oh, there is not like to be a lack of young gentlemen willing to take +the part, but we want not merely willingness, but competence as well; +and the piece must be played on Wednesday, even though the part of +Bellaire be left out,” said Sir Francis. + +Lady Susan looked blankly at the floor. She seemed ready to renew the +tears which she had wept on the shoulder of her friend a short time +before. + +“Have I been too hasty?” she said. “Alas! I fear that I have been +selfish. I thought only of the poor figure that I should cut with such a +lover--and with all the world looking on, too! I should have given more +thought to your distress, Sir Francis.” + +“Say no more, I pray of you; better have no play at all than one that +all our kind friends will damn with the utmost cordiality and good +breeding,” said Sir Francis. + +“True, sir, but think of the ladies' dresses!” said Lady Sarah. “What +the ladies say is, 'Better produce a play that will be cordially damned +rather than deprive us of our chance of displaying our new dresses.'” + +“Heavens!” cried Sir Francis, “I had not thought of the new dresses. +Lady Susan, you will e'en have to face the anger of your sisters--'tis +not I that will tarry for such an event. I mean to fly to Bath +or Brighthelmstone, or perchance to Timbuctoo, until the storm be +overpast.” + +“Nay, nay, 'tis not a time for jesting, sir; let us not look at the +matter from the standpoint of men, who do not stand but run away, let us +be women for once, and scheme,” said Lady Susan. + +“That is woman's special province,” said Sir Francis. “Pray begin, my +lady--'twill be strange if your ladyship and Lady Sarah do not succeed +in----” + +“Psha! there is but one man in England who could play the part of +Bellaire on Wednesday,” cried Lady Sarah. “Ay, sir, and he is the only +one in England capable of playing it.” + +“Then we shall have him on our stage if I should have to pay a thousand +pounds for his services,” said Sir Francis. “But where is he to be +found?” + +“Cannot you guess, sir?” asked Lady Sarah, smiling. + +Sir Francis looked puzzled, but Lady Sue started and caught her friend +by the wrist. + +“You do not mean----” she began. + +“Lud! these girls! Here's a scheme if you will!” muttered Sir Francis. + +“Ay, if you will, Sir Francis. You know that I mean Mr. O'Brien himself +and none other,” cried Lady Sarah. + +“Impossible!” cried Lady Susan. “My father would never consent to my +acting in a play with a real actor--no, not even if he were Mr. Garrick +himself. How could you suggest such a thing, Sarah?” + +“What, do you mean to tell me that you would refuse to act with Mr. +O'Brien?” asked Lady Sarah. + +“Oh, hear the child!” cried Lady Susan. “She asks me a question to which +she knows only one answer is possible, and looks all the time as though +she expected just the opposite answer!” + +“I know well that there are a good many ladies who would give all that +they possess for the chance of acting with Mr. O'Brien, and you are +among the number, my dear,” laughed Lady Sarah. + +“I dare not--I dare not. And yet----” murmured the other girl. + +Sir Francis had been lost in thought while the two had been bickering +over the body of O'Brien. He had walked across the room and seated +himself for some moments. Now he rose and held up a finger. + +“Ladies, this is a serious matter for all of us,” he said. And he spoke +the truth to a greater depth than he was aware of. “'Tis a very serious +matter. If we get Mr. O'Brien to play the part, the piece will be the +greatest success of the day. If we fail to get him, our theatricals will +be damned to a certainty. Lady Susan, will you consent to play with him +if his name does not appear upon the bill?” + +“But every one would know Mr. O'Brien,” she faltered, after a pause that +was overcharged with excitement. + +“Yes, in fact; but no one will have official cognizance of him, and, +as you must know, in these matters of etiquette everything depends upon +official cognizance.” + +“My father--” + +“His lordship will have no _locus standi_ in the case. He cannot take +notice of an act that is not officially recognisable,” suggested Sir +Francis, the sophist. + +“If you assure me---- But is't true that Mr. O'Brien only ceased to +become a gentleman when he became an actor?” said Lady Susan. + +“I have not heard that he relinquished the one part when he took up the +other,” said Sir Francis. “I wonder that you have not met him at the +houses of some of our friends--he is more popular even than Mr. Garrick. +The family of O'Brien----” + +“All kings, I doubt not,” said Lady Susan. “There were a good many +kings in Ireland in the old days, I believe. I read somewhere that +ninety-seven kings were killed in one battle, and still there were quite +enough left to carry on the quarrels of the country. Oh, yes, there +were plenty of kings, and their descendants have--well, descended. Mr. +O'Brien descended pretty far when he became a play-actor.” + +“If he condescends to take up the part of Bellaire at the eleventh hour +to pluck our theatricals out of the fire we shall have every reason to +be grateful to him,” said Sir Francis with a severe air of reproof. He +was beginning to be tired--as others in his place have been from time to +time--of the capriciousness of his company of amateurs. + +“You are right, sir,” said Lady Sarah. “Come, my dear Sue, cease to give +yourself the airs of those ladies who, Mr. Garrick affirms, have been +the plague of his life. If Mr. O'Brien agrees to come to our rescue you +should have no feeling but of gratitude to him. Surely 'twere churlish +on the part of a damsel when a gallant knight rides up to her rescue to +look at his horse in the mouth.” + +“I am thinking of my father,” said the other. “But I am disposed to +accept the risk of the situation. You will promise that his name will +not appear in the bills, Sir Francis?” + +“I will promise to do my best to save you from the contamination of +having your name made as immortal as Mr. O'Brien's,” said Sir Francis. + +Lady Sarah laughed, and so did her friend--after a pause sufficient to +allow the colour that had come to her face at the stinging reproof to +die away. + +“I hope that you may catch your bird, sir--your eagle--your Irish +eagle.” + +“If I could tell him that Lady Sarah Lennox was to be in the cast of the +play I should need no further lure for him,” said Sir Francis, making +his most exquisite bow to her. + +“Oh, sir, you overwhelm me,” said Lady Sarah, sinking in her most +ravishing courtesy. + +Lady Susan coloured once more, and her foot played a noiseless tattoo on +the floor, for she perceived all that Sir Francis's compliment implied. +Lady Sarah was the most beautiful girl in England, while Lady Susan was +not even second to her, a fact of which she was as well aware as her +friends. + +This was how Lady Susan Fox-Strangways first met Mr. O'Brien, the +actor whom Garrick had brought from Ireland in the year 1762. He +good-naturedly agreed to help Sir Francis Délavai in his extremity, and +his ready Irish tact enabled him to be the first to stipulate that his +name should not appear in the bills--a condition with which Sir Francis +complied, drawing a long breath. + +“Mr. O'Brien,” he said, “should the stage ever fail you, a fortune +awaits you if you undertake the duty of teaching gentlemen the art of +being a gentleman.” + +“Ah, sir, the moment that art enters the door the gentleman flies out +by the window,” said the actor. “It is Nature, not art, that makes a +gentleman.” + +One can well believe that Lady Susan Fox-Strangways, with all the pride +of her connection with a peerage nearly ten years old, treated Mr. +O'Brien's accession to a place in the company of amateurs with some +hauteur, though it was said that she fell in love with him at once. On +consideration, her bearing of hauteur which we have ventured to assign +to her, so far from being incompatible with her having fallen in love +with him, would really be a natural consequence of such an accident, and +the deeper she felt herself falling the more she would feel it necessary +to assert her position, if only for the sake of convincing herself that +it was impossible for her to forget herself so far as to think of an +Irish play-actor as occupying any other position in regard to her than +that of a diversion for the moment. + +It was equally a matter of course that Lady Sarah should have an +instinct of what was taking place. She had attended several of the +rehearsals previously in the capacity of adviser to her friend, for Lady +Susan had a high opinion of her critical capacity; but not until two +rehearsals had taken place with O'Brien as Bellaire was she able to +resume her attendance at Downing Street. Before half an hour had passed +this astute lady had seen, first, that O'Brien made every other man in +the cast seem a lout; and, secondly, that Lady Susan felt that every man +in the world was a lout by the side of O'Brien. + +She hoped to discover what were the impressions of O'Brien, but she +found herself foiled: the man was too good an actor to betray himself. +The fervour which he threw into the character when making love to Lady +Susan had certainly the semblance of a real passion, but what did this +mean more than that Mr. O'Brien was a convincing actor? + +When she arrived at this point in her consideration of the situation +Lady Sarah lost herself, and began to long with all her heart that the +actor were making love to her--taking her hand with that incomparable +devotion to--was it his art?--which he showed when Lady Susan's hand was +raised, with a passionate glance into her eyes, to his lips; putting his +arm about her waist, while his lips, trembling under the force of the +protestations of undying devotion which they were uttering, were almost +touching Lady Susan's ear. Before the love scene was over Lady Sarah was +in love with the actor, if not with the man, O'Brien. + +So was every lady in the cast. O'Brien was the handsomest actor of the +day. He had been careful of his figure at a time when men of fashion +lived in such a way as made the preservation of a figure well-nigh +impossible. Every movement was grace itself with him, and the period +was one in which the costume of a man gave him every chance of at least +imitating a graceful man. All the others in the cast of the play seemed +imitating the gracefulness of O'Brien, and every man of them seemed +a clown beside him. They gave themselves countless graces, but he was +grace itself. + +Lady Sarah saw everything that was to be seen and said nothing. She was +wise. She knew that in due time her friend would tell her all there was +to be told. + +She was not disappointed. The play was produced, and of course every +one recognised O'Brien in the part, although the bill--printed in gold +letters on a satin ground, with a charming allegorical design by Lady +Diana Spencer, showing a dozen dainty cupids going to school with +satchels--stated that Bellaire would be represented by “a gentleman.” + +Equally as a matter of course a good many of the spectators affirmed +that it was intolerable that a play-actor should be smuggled into a +company of amateurs, some of them belonging to the best families. And +then to attempt a deception of the audience by suggesting that O'Brien +was a gentleman--oh, the thing was unheard of! So said some of the +ladies, adding that they thought it rather sad that Lady Susan was not +better-looking. + +But of the success of the entertainment there could not be a doubt. It +was the talk of the town for a month, and every one noticed--even her +own father--that Lady Susan was looking extremely thin and very pale. + +Lady Sarah said that she had taken the diversion of the theatricals too +seriously. + +“I saw it from the first, my dear Sue,” she said. + +Sue sprang from her chair, and it would be impossible for any one to say +now that she was over pale. + +“You saw it--you--what was it that you saw from the first?” she cried. + +Lady Sarah looked at her and laughed. + +“Ah, that is it--what was it that I saw from the first?” she said. “What +I was going to say that I saw was simply that you were throwing yourself +too violently into the production of the play. That was why you insisted +on poor Lord B------'s getting his _congé_. It was a mistake--I saw that +also.” + +“When did you see that?” + +“When I saw you taking part in that love scene with Mr. O'Brien.” + +“What mean you by that, Lady Sarah?” + +“Exactly what you fancy I mean, Lady Susan.” + +Lady Susan gazed at her blankly at first, then very pitifully. In +another moment she had flung herself on her knees at the feet of her +friend and was weeping in her lap. + +The friend was full of sympathy. + +“You poor child!” she murmured, “how could you help it? I vow that I +myself--yes, for some minutes--I was as deep in love with the fellow as +you yourself were. But, of course, you were with him longer--every day. +Lud! what a handsome rascal he is, to be sure. His lordship must take +you to the country without delay. Has the fellow tried to transfer the +character in the play beyond the footlights?” + +“Never--never!” cried Susan. “Sir Francis was right--he is a gentleman. +That is the worst of it!” + +“Oh, lud! the worst of it? Are you mad, girl?” + +“I am not mad now, but I know that I shall be if he remains a +gentleman--if he refrains from telling me that he loves me--or at least +of giving me a chance of telling him that I love him. That would be +better than nothing--'twould be such a relief. I really do not think +that I want anything more than to be able to confess to him that I love +him--that 'tis impossible that I should love another.” + +“The sooner you go to the country the better 'twill be for yourself and +all of us--his lordship especially. Good heavens, child, you must be +mad! Do you fancy that his lordship would give his consent to your +marriage with a strolling player, let him be as handsome as Beelzebub?” + +“He is not a strolling player. Mr. O'Brien is in Mr. Garrick's company, +and every one knows that he is of good family. I have been searching it +out for the past week--all about the O'Briens--there were a great many +of them, all of them distinguished. If it had not been that King James +was defeated by William, in Ireland, Mr. O'Brien's grandfather would +have been made a duke. They were all heroes, the O'Briens. And they were +just too sincere in their devotion to the losing side--that was it--the +losing side was always the one they took up. And yet you call him a +strolling player!” + +“I take back the insinuation and offer him my apologies; he is not a +strolling player because he doesn't stroll--would to Heaven he did! Oh, +my poor Sue, take a stroll into the country yourself as soon as possible +and try to forget this dreadfully handsome wretch. You would not, I am +sure, force me to tell his lordship what a goose his daughter is like to +make of herself.” + +At this point there was a dramatic scene, one that was far more deeply +charged with comedy of a sort than any to be found in Mr. Whitehead's +play. Lady Susan accused her dear friend of being a spy, of extorting +a confession from her under the guise of friendship, which in other +circumstances--the rack, the wheel, the thumbscrew, in fact the entire +mechanism of persuasion employed by the Spanish Inquisition--would have +been powerless to obtain. Lady Sarah on her side entreated her friend +not to show herself to be even a greater goose than her confession +would make her out to be. For several minutes there was reproach and +counter-reproach, many home truths followed home thrusts; then some +tears, self-accusation, expressions of sympathy and tenderness, followed +by promises of friendship beyond the dreams of Damon and Pythias; +lastly, a promise on the part of Sue that she would take the advice of +her devoted Sarah and fly to the country without delay. + +Strange to say, she fled to the country, and, stranger still, the result +was not to cure her of her infatuation for the handsome actor. For close +upon a year she did not see him, but she was as devoted to him as she +had been at first, and no day passed on which she failed to think of +him, or to spend some hours writing romantic verses, sometimes in the +style of Waller in his lyrics, sometimes in the style (distant) of Mr. +Dryden in his pastorals: she was Lesbia, and Mr. O'Brien was Strephon. + +But in the meantime she had improved so much in her acting that when +Lady Sarah, who had within the year married Sir Thomas Bunbury, ventured +to rally her upon her infatuation of the previous spring, she was +able to disarm her suspicions by a flush and a shrug, and a little +contemptuous exclamation or two. + +“Ah, my dear one, did not I give you good advice?” cried Lady Sarah. “I +was well assured that my beloved Sue would never persevere in a passion +that could only end in unhappiness. But indeed, child, I never had the +heart to blame you greatly, the fellow is handsome as Apollo and as +proud as Apolyon. He has broken many hearts not accounted particularly +fragile, during the year.” + +“Is't possible? For example?--I vow that I shall keep their names +secret.” + +Lady Sarah shook her head at first, but on being importuned whispered a +name or two of ladies of their acquaintance, all of whom--according to +Lady Sarah--had fallen as deep as was possible in love with O'Brien. Her +ladyship was so intent on her narration of the scandals that she quite +failed to see the strange light that gleamed in her friend's eyes at the +mention of every name--a rather fierce gleam, with a flash of green in +it. She did not notice this phenomenon, nor did she detect the false +note in the tribute of laughter which her friend paid to her powers of +narration. + +But Lady Sue, when the other had left her, rushed to her room and flung +herself on her bed in a paroxysm of jealousy. She beat her innocent +pillow wildly, crying in the whisper that the clenching of her teeth +made imperative--“The hussies! Shameless creatures! Do they hope that he +will be attracted to them? Fools!--they are fools! They do not know him +as I know him. They think that he is nothing but a vain actor--Garrick, +or Barry, or Lewes. Oh, they do not know him!” + +She lay there in her passion for an hour, and if it was her maid who +discovered her at the end of that time, it is safe to assume that +the young woman's flesh was black and blue in places for several +days afterwards. The pinch and the slipper were among the most highly +approved forms of torture inflicted upon their maids at that robust +period of English history. The French Revolution was still some way off. + +A few weeks later Lady Susan was sitting to Sir Joshua Reynolds for a +group, in which he painted her with her friend Lady Sarah Bunbury and +Mr. Henry Fox; and it was the carrying out of this scheme that put quite +another scheme into the quick brain of the first-named lady. Painting +was in the air. She possessed a poor print of Mr. O'Brien, and she had +found an immense consolation in gazing upon it--frequently at midnight, +under the light of her bedroom candle. The sight of the life-like +portraits in Sir Joshua's studio induced her to ask herself if she might +not possess a picture of her lover that would show him as he really was +in life, without demanding so many allowances as were necessary to be +made for the shortcomings of the engraver of a print. Why should she not +get Sir Joshua Reynolds to paint for her the portrait of Mr. O'Brien? + +[Illustration: 0379] + +The thought was a stimulating one, and it took possession of her for a +week. At the end of that time, however, she came to the conclusion that +it would be unwise for her to employ Sir Joshua on a commission that +might possibly excite some comment on the part of her friends should +they come to learn--and the work of this particular painter was rather +inclined to be assertive--that it had been executed to her order. But +she was determined not to live any longer without a portrait of the man; +and, hearing some one mention at Sir Joshua's house the name of Miss +Catherine Read, who was described as an excellent portrait painter, she +made further inquiry, and the result was that she begged her father, +the Earl of Ilchester, who was devoted to her, to allow her to have her +portrait done by Miss Read, to present to Lady Sarah on her birthday. + +Of course Miss Read was delighted to have the patronage of so great +a family--she had not yet done her famous pastel of the Duchess of +Argyll--and Susan, accompanied by her footman, lost no time in beginning +her series of sittings to the artist to whom Horace Walpole referred as +“the painteress.” + +She was both patient and discreet, for three whole days elapsed before +she produced a mezzotint of Mr. O'Brien. + +“I wonder if you would condescend to draw a miniature portrait of his +lordship's favourite actor from so poor a copy as this, Miss Read?” she +said. “Have you ever seen this Mr. O'Brien--an Irishman, I believe he +is?” + +Miss Read assured her that Mr. O'Brien was her favourite actor also. The +print produced was indeed a poor one; it quite failed to do justice to +the striking features of the original, she said. + +“I felt certain that it could bear but a meagre resemblance to Mr. +O'Brien if all that I hear of the man be true,” said Lady Susan. “His +lordship swears that there has never been so great an actor in England, +and I should like to give him a surprise by presenting to him a +miniature portrait of his favourite, done by the cunning pencil of Miss +Read, on his birthday. I protest that 'tis a vast kindness you are doing +me in undertaking such a thing. But mind, I would urge of you to keep +the affair a profound secret. I wish it as a surprise to my father, and +its effect would be spoilt were it to become known to any of his friends +that I had this intention.” + +“Your ladyship may rest assured that no living creature will hear of the +affair through me,” said the painteress. “But I heartily wish that your +ladyship could procure for me a better copy than this print from which +to work,” she added. + +“I fear that I cannot promise you that; I found two other prints of the +same person, but they are worse even than this,” said Lady Susan. “You +must do your best with the material at your disposal.” + +“Your ladyship may depend on my doing my best,” replied Miss Read. “When +does his lordship's birthday take place?” + +Her ladyship was somewhat taken aback by the sudden question. It took +her some time to recollect that her father's birthday was to be within +a month. She felt that she could not live for longer than another month +without a portrait of the man whom she loved. + +While she was going home in her chair she could not but feel that she +had hitherto been an undutiful daughter, never having taken any interest +in her father's birthday, and being quite unacquainted with its date. +She hoped fervently that Miss Read would not put herself to the trouble +to find out exactly on what day of what month it took place. The result +of such an investigation might be a little awkward. + +It so happened that Miss Read took no trouble in this direction. All her +attention was turned upon the task of making a presentable miniature out +of the indifferent material with which she had been supplied for this +purpose. She began wondering if it might not be possible to get O'Brien +to sit to her half a dozen times in order to give her a chance of doing +credit to herself and to the gentleman's fine features. + +She was still pondering over this question when her attendant entered +with a card, saying that a gentleman had come to wait on her. + +She read the name on the card, and uttered an exclamation of surprise, +for the name was that of the man of whom she was thinking--Mr. O'Brien, +of Drury Lane Theatre. + +She had wholly failed to recover herself before he entered the studio, +and advanced to her, making his most respectful bow. He politely +ignored her flutter-ings--he was used to see her sex overwhelmed when he +appeared. + +“Madam, I beg that you will pardon this intrusion,” he said. “I have +taken the liberty of waiting upon you, knowing of your great capacity as +an artist.” + +“Oh, sir!” cried the fluttered little lady, making her courtesy. + +“Nay, madam, I have no intention of flattering one to whom compliments +must be as customary as they are well deserved,” said the actor. “I come +not to confer a favour, madam, but to entreat one. In short, Miss Read, +I am desirous of presenting a valued friend of mine with the portrait of +a lady for whom he entertains a sincere devotion. For certain reasons, +which I need not specify, the lady cannot sit to you; but I have here +a picture of her poorly done in chalks, from which I hope it may be +in your power to make a good--a good---- Good heavens! what do I +behold? 'Tis she--she--Lady Susan herself!” + +He had glanced round the studio in the course of his speech, and his +eyes had alighted upon the newly-begun portrait of Lady Susan. It +represented only a few days' work, but the likeness to the original had +been ably caught, and no one could fail to recognise the features. + +He took a hurried step to the easel, and the air made by his motion +dislodged a print which the artist had laid on the little ledge that +supported the stretcher of the canvas. The print fluttered to the floor; +he picked it up, and gave another exclamation on recognising his own +portrait in the mezzotint. + +Looking from the print to the picture and then at Miss Read, he said in +a low voice, after a pause--“Madam, I am bewildered. Unless you come +to my assistance I protest I shall feel that I am dreaming and asleep. +Pray, madam, enlighten me--for Heaven's sake tell me how this”--he held +up the print--“came into such close juxtaposition with that”--he pointed +to the portrait on the easel. + +“'Tis easily told, sir,” said Miss Read, smiling archly. “But I must +leave it to your sense of honour to keep the matter a profound secret.” + +“Madam,” said Mr. O'Brien with dignity, “Madam, I am an Irishman.” + +“That is enough, sir; I know that I can trust you. The truth is, Mr. +O'Brien, that Lady Susan is sitting to me for her portrait--that +portrait. 'Twas marvellous that you should recognise it so soon. I have +not worked at it for many hours.” + +“Madam, your art is beyond that of the magician. 'Tis well known that +every form depicted by Miss Read not only breathes but speaks.” + +“Oh, sir, I vow that you are a flatterer; still, you did recognise the +portrait--'tis to be presented to Lady Sarah Bunbury.” + +“Her ladyship will be the most fortunate of womankind.” + +“Which ladyship, sir--Lady Susan or Lady Sarah?” + +“Both, madam.” The Irishman was bowing with his hand on his heart. “But +the print--my poor likeness?” + +“That is the secret, sir; but you will not betray it when I tell you +that Lady Susan entrusted that print to me in order that I might make a +copy in miniature for her to present to her father, Lord Ilchester. You +are his favourite actor, Mr. O'Brien, as no doubt you are aware.” + +“'Tis the first I heard of it, madam.” There was a suggestion of +mortification in the actor's tone. + +“Ah, 'twould be impossible for Mr. O'Brien to keep an account of all his +conquests. But now you can understand how it is that her ladyship wishes +her intention to be kept a secret: she means to add to the acceptability +of her gift by presenting it as a surprise. But her secret is safe in +your keeping, sir?” + +“I swear to it, madam.” Mr. O'Brien spoke mechanically. His hand was on +his chin: he was clearly musing upon some question that perplexed him. +He took a turn up and down the studio, and then said: + +“Madam, it has just occurred to me that you, as a great artist----” + +“Nay, sir,” interposed the blushing painteress. + +“I will not take back a word, madam,” said the actor, holding up one +inexorable hand. “I say that surely so great an artist as you should +disdain to do the work of a mere copyist. Why should not you confer upon +me the honour of sitting to you for the miniature portrait?” + +“Oh, sir, that is the one favour which I meant to ask of you, if my +courage had not failed me.” + +“Madam, you will confer immortality upon a simple man through that magic +wand which you wield.” He swept his hand with inimitable grace over the +mahl-stick which lay against the easel. “I am all impatient to begin my +sitting, Miss Read. Pray let me come to-morrow.” + +“Her ladyship comes to-morrow.” + +“I shall precede her ladyship. Name the hour, madam.” + +Without the least demur Miss Read named an hour which could enable him +to be far away from the studio before Lady Susan's arrival. + +And yet the next day Lady Susan entered the studio quite half an hour +before Mr. O'Brien had left it. Of course she was surprised. Had not +Miss Read received a letter, making her aware of the fact that she, Lady +Susan, would be forced, owing to circumstances over which she had +no control, to sit for her portrait an hour earlier than that of her +appointment? + +When Miss Read said she had received no such letter, Lady Susan said +some very severe things about her maid. Miss Read was greatly fluttered, +but she explained in as few words as possible how it was that Mr. +O'Brien had come forward in the cause of art, and was sitting for the +miniature. Lady Susan quickly got over her surprise. (Had Miss Read seen +the letter which her ladyship had received the previous evening from +Mr. O'Brien she would not have marvelled as she did at the rapidity +with which her ladyship recovered her self-possession.) Her ladyship +was quite friendly with the actor, and thanked him for his courtesy +in offering to give up so much of his time solely for the sake of +increasing the value of her gift to her father. + +A few minutes later, while they were discussing some point in the design +of the picture, Miss Read was called out of the studio, and in a second +Lady Susan was in his arms. + +“Fate is on our side, darling girl!” he whispered. + +“I could not live without you, my charmer. But I was bold! I took my +fate in both hands when I wrote you that letter.” + +“Dear one, 'twas the instinct of true love that made you guess the +truth--that I wanted the portrait because I loved the original. Oh, dear +one, what have I not suffered during the year that has parted us!” said +Lady Susan, with her head upon his shoulder. + +The Irishman found it necessary to fall back upon the seductive tongue +of his country for words of endearment to bestow upon her. He called her +“Sheila,” “a cushla machree,” “mavourneen,” and also “aroon.” But when +Miss Read returned to the studio they were still discussing a purely +artistic point in connection with the portrait. + +Of course now that O'Brien knew the secret of the miniature there was no +reason that Miss Read could see why he and Lady Susan should not meet at +her studio. To do her justice, neither could her ladyship perceive why +they should not come together at this place. They came every day, and +every day Lady Susan begged that Miss Read would allow her to rest in +her ante-room after the fatigue of the sitting. She rested in that +room, and in the company of O'Brien, until at last Miss Read became +frightened; and one day told her friend Lord Cathcart something of her +fears. Lord Cathcart, in his turn, told Lord Ilchester. His lordship was +furious, but cautious. + +He wanted evidence of his daughter's infatuation. He got it the next +morning, for he insisted on seeing a letter which arrived for Lady +Susan, addressed in the handwriting of Lady Sarah. This letter turned +out to be from O'Brien, and Susan confessed that her father's surmise +was correct--all the letters which she had recently received in Lady +Sarah's hand had come from O'Brien. + +Her father was foolish enough to grant her permission to say farewell +to her lover, and thus the two were allowed to come together once more. +They had a long talk, in the course of which O'Brien communicated to her +a secret of the theatre, which was that Mr. Garrick and Mr. Colman were +engaged in the construction of a comedy to be called _The Clandestine +Marriage_, and that Mr. Garrick told him that he, O'Brien, was to play +the part of the lover--the gentleman who had married the lady in secret. + +Lady Susan parted from her lover, not in tears, but in laughter. + +The conclusion of the story is told by Horace Walpole, writing to Lord +Hertford. + +“You will have heard of the sad misfortune that has happened to Lord +Ilchester by his daughter's marriage with O'Brien, the actor,” wrote +Walpole; and then went on to tell how Lady Susan had made her confession +to her father, vowing to have nothing more to do with her lover if she +were but permitted to bid him good-bye. “You will be amazed,” continued +Walpole, “even this was granted. The parting scene happened the +beginning of the week. On Friday she came of age, and on Saturday +morning--instead of being under lock and key in the country--walked +downstairs, took her footman, said she was going to breakfast with +Lady Sarah, but would call at Miss Read's; in the street pretended +to recollect a particular cap in which she was to be drawn, sent the +footman back for it, whipped into a hackney chair, was married at Covent +Garden Church, and set out for Mr. O'Brien's villa at Dunstable.” + +Unlike many other alliances of a similar type, this marriage turned out +a happy one. O'Brien was induced to leave the stage and to depart with +his wife for America. He obtained a grant of some forty thousand acres +in the province of New York, and had he retained this property and taken +the right side during the Revolution his descendants would to-day be +the richest people in the world. A few years later he was given a +good appointment in Bermuda; and finally, in 1770, he was made +Receiver-General of the County of Dorset, and became popular as a +country squire. He died in 1815, and Lady Susan survived him by twelve +years. + +It was Lady Sarah who had made the imprudent marriage. She submitted to +the cruelties of her husband for fourteen years, and on her leaving his +roof he obtained a divorce. + +In 1781, nineteen years after her first marriage, she wedded the Hon. +George Napier, and became the mother of three of the greatest Englishmen +of the nineteenth century. She lived until she was eighty. Her friend +Lady Susan followed her to the grave a year later, at the age of +eighty-four. + + +THE END + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Georgian Pageant, by Frank Frankfort Moore + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GEORGIAN PAGEANT *** + +***** This file should be named 51964-0.txt or 51964-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/6/51964/ + +Produced by David Widger from page images generously +provided by the Internet Archive + + +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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Thus, we do not +necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper +edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search +facility: www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/51964-0.zip b/old/51964-0.zip Binary files differindex 966d792..966d792 100644 --- a/51964-0.zip +++ b/old/51964-0.zip diff --git a/old/51964-8.txt b/old/51964-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a8c7143 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/51964-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8632 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Georgian Pageant, by Frank Frankfort Moore + +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: A Georgian Pageant + +Author: Frank Frankfort Moore + +Illustrator: Various + +Release Date: May 2, 2016 [EBook #51964] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GEORGIAN PAGEANT *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger from page images generously +provided by the Internet Archive + + + + + + + + + +A GEORGIAN PAGEANT + +By Frank Frankfort Moore + +With Illustrations + +London: Hutchinson & Co. Paternoster Row + +1908 + + + + +THE WRITER'S APOLOGY + +THE greater number of the papers in this series, dealing with some +well-known persons and incidents of the latter half of the Eighteenth +Century, are the practical result of a long conversation which the +writer had with the late Professor J. Churton Collins upon a very +memorable occasion. The writer ventured to contend that the existing +views respecting the personality of Oliver Goldsmith, of Henry Thrale, +of James Boswell, of Samuel Johnson, and of some others whom he named, +were grossly erroneous; as were also the prevalent notions respecting +such matters as Fanny Burney's attendance upon the Queen, the "romance" +of the Gunnings, and the "elopement" of Richard Brinsley Sheridan with +Elizabeth Linley. If Professor Churton Collins had not urged upon +the writer the possible interest attaching to the expression of some +opinions unbiassed by those conservators of the conventional who have +dealt with the same period, every one of them being as careful as +Indians on the warpath to tread in the footsteps of the man preceding +him, he would not have the courage to set forth his views in the form +they now assume. + +The non-controversial papers in the series may increase the light and +shade in the sketches of this very humble Georgian Pageant. The romance +of Lady Susan Fox-Strangways naturally took the shape of a "regulation" +story. The details are absolutely correct. + +On the very day the writer meant to keep the promise he made to +Professor Churton Collins, by sending him the completed proofs of this +book, the melancholy news of his death was published--an irreparable +loss to the Literature of English Criticism. + + + + +THE MONARCH OF THE PAGEANT + +On the morning of February 2nd, 1789, a lady was taking a solitary +stroll in Kew Gardens. She was a small person, of dainty features, with +a dimple on each side of her mouth that suggested a smile, varying, +perhaps out of compliment to the variations of the people with whom +she came in contact in her daily life, and shifting doubtless with +the movements of the folk of her fancy through her quick brain, but +remaining a smile all the time. There was about her a good deal of that +doll-like primness which is so pretty an accompaniment of a person of +small stature; but with this particular person it had--not quite, but +almost--the additional charm of dignity. One could at all times see that +she was making a highly intellectual attempt to be dignified; but that +she was not really dignified at heart. One could see that she had too +fine a sense of humour to be thoroughly dignified; and it may be that +some of her closest observers--her closest observers were her greatest +admirers--perceived now and again that she had a full sense of the +humour of her efforts in the direction of dignity. She had large eyes, +but being very short-sighted, she had a habit of half closing them when +looking at anything or any one further away from her than ten feet. But +somehow it was never suggested that the falling of her lids brought a +frown to her face. + +She was a quick walker at all times; but on this winter day the slowest +would have had little temptation to dawdle. The usual river mist was +thrusting up a quivering cold hand among the gaunt trees of the water +boundary of the Gardens, and here and there it flitted like a lean +spectre among the clipped evergreens of the shrubberies. There was a +maze of yew hedges, in the intricacies of which one mist-spectre had +clearly got lost; and the lady, who had some imagination, could see, +as she hurried past, the poor thing's wispy head and shoulders flitting +about among the baffling central walks. (A defective eyesight is +sometimes a good friend to the imagination.) And all the while she was +hurrying along the broad track she was looking with some measure of +uneasiness through her half-closed eyes down every tributary walk that +ran into the main one, and peering uneasily down every long artificial +vista that Sir Thomas Chambers, the Swedish knight and landscape +gardener, had planned, through the well-regulated boskage, with an +imitation Greek temple or Roman villa at the end. Approaching the +widening entrance to each of these, she went cautiously for a few +moments until she had assured herself on some point. Once she started +and took a step backward, but raising the lorgnette which she carried, +and satisfying herself that the group of men a hundred yards down one of +the vistas was composed wholly of gardeners, she resumed her stroll. + +Whatever slight apprehension may have been on her mind had vanished by +the time she had half completed the circuit made by the main walk. +She had reached one of the mounds which at that time were covered with +rhododendrons, and paused for a moment to see if there was sign of a +bud. A blackbird flew out from among the dense leafage, and she followed +it with her eyes as well as she could while she walked on, crossing the +narrow path that led to the seats on the mound. But at the moment of +crossing she was startled out of her senses by the sound of a shout from +some distance down this path--a loud shout followed by several others +rather less imperative. She gave a little exclamation of terror, raising +her muff to her face. Glancing in the direction whence the commotion +was coming, she gave another cry, seeing a tall man rush toward her with +outstretched arms--waving arms, frantically beckoning to her while he +shouted: + +"Miss Burney! Miss Burney!" + +She waited no longer. She turned and fled along the broad walk, making +for one of the many labyrinths not so very far away, and after her ran +the man, still shouting and gesticulating. She could hear the sound of +his feet and his voice behind her, as well as the cries of the other +men who were endeavouring to keep pace with him. On they came, and there +flashed through her active brain, in spite of the horrible apprehension +which thrilled through every nerve in her body, as she doubled back +upon the path which she had just traversed, the lines written by Dr. +Goldsmith and often quoted by her friend Dr. Johnson: + + A hare whom hounds and horns pursue, + + Pants to the place from whence at first he flew. + +She realised, all too painfully, the feelings of the poor hare at that +moment. She longed for a friendly earth to open up before her. They were +behind her--those wild huntsmen, one hoarsely yelling to her she knew +not what, the others, more shrill, shouting to her to stop. + +She was too frightened to think of obeying any of them. On she ran, +and it seemed that she was increasing the distance between her and her +panting pursuers, until one of them, having better wind, managed to +shoot ahead of the others, and to get close enough to say in a voice +that was not all gasps: + +"Madam, madam, the doctor begs you to stop!" She glanced over her +shoulder, still flying. + +"No, no, I cannot--I dare not!" she gasped. + +"Madam, you must--you must: it hurts the King to run!" cried the man. + +Then she stopped. The man, an ordinary attendant, stood in front of her. +He was more breathless than Miss Burney. + +"The doctor, madam," he faltered, "'twas the doctor--he thought at first +that His Majesty was--was--but that was at first--now he says you must +please not lead His Majesty on--'tis all too much for him. Save us! How +you did go, madam! Who would ha' thought it?" + +She was paying no attention to him. Her eyes were fixed upon the group +of men who were recovering their breath while they walked slowly +toward her. The King was between his two physicians--not Physicians in +Ordinary; just the contrary--the two physicians who had been +summoned from Lincolnshire by some person in authority who possessed +intelligence--it should surely be easy to identify such a man at the +Court of George III--when, some months earlier, His Majesty gave signs +of losing his mental balance. They were the Willises, father and son, +the former a clergyman, who was therefore all the more fully qualified +to deal with a mind diseased--such a case as was defined as needing more +the divine than the physician. The King was between the father and his +son, but neither of them was exercising any ostentatious or officious +restraint upon him. One of them was smiling while he said some +reassuring words to the Royal patient; the other was endeavouring to +reassure little Miss Burney from a distance. + +And it seemed that the intentions of both were realised, for His Majesty +was smiling as benignly as was ever his wont, and little Miss Burney +took her courage in both hands and boldly advanced to meet her +Sovereign. (She had been for three years the Queen's "Dresser.") But +when they met, after the King had cried, "Why did you run away from me, +Miss Burney?" it appeared that the process of reassuring the King had +been but too effectually accomplished, for before the lady could frame a +diplomatic reply to his inquiry, he had enwound her in his paternal arms +and kissed her heartily on the cheek, greatly to her confusion and (she +pretends) to her horror. The two doctors stood placidly by. They, poor +things, being quite unaccustomed to the ways of the immediate entourage +of the Court of George III--though they had doubtless heard something +of the practices that prevailed at the Courts of His Majesty's lamented +grandfather and great-grandfather--seemed under the impression that +there was nothing unusual in this form of salutation. For all they knew +it might be regarded as _de rigueur_ between a monarch and the ladies of +his consort's retinue. Even Dr. Willis, the divine, took a tolerant view +of the transaction. He, as Miss Burney afterwards recorded, actually +looked pleased! + +But, of course, the prim little lady herself was overwhelmed--yes, at +first; but soon her good sense came to her rescue. She seems to have +come with extraordinary rapidity to the conclusion that the King was +not so mad as she had believed him to be. Her train of reasoning was +instinctive, and therefore correct: the King had put his arms about her +and kissed her when he had the chance, therefore he could not be so mad +after all. + +In truth, however, Fanny Burney took the view of her treatment that any +sensible modest young woman would take of it. She knew that the King, +who had been separated for several months from the people whom he had +been daily in the habit of meeting, had shown in the most natural way +possible his delight at coming once more in contact with one of them. + +And undoubtedly the homely old gentleman was delighted beyond measure to +meet with some one belonging to his happy years--a pleasanter face than +that of Mrs. Schwellenberg, the dreadful creature who had made Fanny +Burney's life miserable. It is not conceivable that the King would have +kissed Mrs. Schwellenberg if he had come upon her suddenly as he had +upon Miss Burney. People prefer silver rather than iron links with a +happy past. He was so overjoyed, that the divine and the physician in +attendance soon became anxious. They could not know much of all that +he talked about to Miss Burney. They were in the position of strangers +suddenly introduced to a family circle, and understanding nothing of the +little homely secrets--homely topics upon which all the members of the +circle have laughed together for years. + +They possibly could not see much sense in his long and rambling chat--it +must have been largely in monologue--but they must have observed the +face of the lady who was listening to him, and known from the expression +which it wore that their patient was making himself intelligible. Only +now and again they thought it prudent to check his exuberance. They must +have been the most intelligent of men; and their names deserve to stand +high in the annals of their country. At a time when the scientific +treatment of the insane had not even begun to be formulated--when to +be mentally afflicted meant to be on a level with felons and to be +subjected to such repressive treatment as was afforded by the iron of +the fetters and the hiss of the whipcord--at a time when a lust for +office could make a statesman like Burke (a statesman who caused +multitudes to weep in sympathy with his harangue on the sufferings +of Marie Antoinette) refer to the King as having been "hurled by the +Almighty from his throne" (in order to give the Opposition a chance of +jumping into place and power over his prostrate body)--at such a time +as this Dr. Willis and his two sons undertook the treatment of the King, +and in the face of much opposition from the place-hunters in the Prince +of Wales's pack, succeeded in restoring their patient to the palace +which his happy nature had transformed into a home for every one +dwelling under its roof. + +They stood by for some time after the King had greeted Miss Burney; and +when he began to speak to her of topics that had a purely domestic +ring they showed their good taste, as well as their knowledge of the +peculiarities of their "case," by moving away to a little distance, +signalling to their attendants to do the same. Their discrimination must +have been highly appreciated by the King. The poor restless mind had +long wanted such a good long talk with a sympathetic listener, who, he +knew, could understand every allusion that he might make to the past. +He yearned to talk and to hear of such things as some one living in a +distant land looks forward to finding in a letter from home. The _res +angusta domi_--that was what he was hungering for--the trivial things in +which he delighted--the confidences on simple matters--the sly everyday +jests, never acutely pointed even to the family circle, but absolutely +pointless to every one outside, yet sounding so delightfully witty when +repeated as a sign of a happy intimacy of the past! + +Little Miss Burney had never imagined a scene like that in which +she played an insignificant part at the moment, but one of enormous +importance for posterity. She had, a few years before, been placed upon +the porphyry pedestal which is reserved in England for the greatest +woman writer of the generation. Seated there quite complacently, without +reflecting upon the possibility of her pedestal becoming a trifle +rickety, she had clasped her novel _Evelina_ to her bosom, and received, +without her head being in the least turned, the adulation--respectful +in some cases, almost passionate in others--of the most notable men +and women in the most intellectual and artistic society in England. +Dr. Samuel Johnson, who was not disposed to overrate the merits of any +writer whom the world had praised, was kissing her hands, and Richard +Brinsley Sheridan was kissing her feet; Sir Joshua Reynolds was kissing +the hem of her garments; while Edmund Burke was weaving a tinsel crown +of rhetoric for her shapely head; but there were others equally great +at that time who seemed to think that only a nimbus could give the +appropriate finish to the little personage on the pedestal. The +marvellous story of her success has been often told. It is more easily +told than understood in the present day, the fact being that fashion in +fiction is the most ephemeral of all human caprices, and Fanny Burney +was essentially a fashion. She followed up the marvellous success of +_Evelina_, after an interval of four years, with the natural success of +_Cecilia_, and, after another four years, she retired from the brilliant +world into the obscurity of the palace--the palace wardrobe. She had +visited Mrs. Delany, and had been introduced (not presented) to the King +and Queen, and the office of Queen's Dresser--Keeper of the Robes was +the stately designation of a very humble service--becoming vacant, it +was offered to Fanny Burney and accepted by her, acting on the advice +of her father, who most certainly hoped that his own interests as a +musician, fully qualified to become leader of the Royal Band, would +be materially advanced when his daughter should become one of the +Household. + +Reams of indignation have been published from time to time in respect of +Dr. Burney's conduct in urging on his one brilliant daughter--the others +were not brilliant, only mothers--to accept a post the duties of which +could be discharged by any lady's maid with far more advantage to the +Royal Consort than could possibly result from the ministrations of Fanny +Burney. The world has been called on to bemoan the prudent indiscretion +of the father, who did not hesitate to fling his gifted daughter's pen +out of the window, so to speak, and thereby deprive the waiting world of +some such masterpiece as _Camilla_--the novel which she published five +years after her release from the burden of the Robes. There can be +no doubt that the feeling which prevailed among the circle of the +elect--the Reynoldses, the Burkes, and even the frigid Walpole--when +it became known that Miss Burney's health was breaking down under +the strain of her duties at the Court--she had about two hours' daily +attendance of the most ordinary nature upon the Queen--was on the border +of indignation. Every one affirmed that it was a disgrace for so lively +a genius to be kept at the duties of a lady's maid. It was like turning +the winner of the Oaks out to the plough. Edmund Burke, recalling his +early approbation of the intentions of Dr. Burney in regard to his +daughter, declared that he had never made so great a mistake in all +his life; and we know that he made a few. These excellent people had no +reason to speak otherwise than they did on this matter. All they knew +was that the pen of the novelist who had given them so much pleasure had +been (as they believed) idle for nearly nine years, five of which had +been passed at the Court. That reflection was quite enough to rouse +their indignation. But what can one say of the indignation on this point +of a writer who actually made the fact of his being engaged on a review +of the Diary of Fanny Burney--the incomparable Diary which she kept +during her five years at Court--an excuse for turning the vials of his +wrath upon her father, whose obstinacy gave her a chance of writing the +most interesting chapter--the most accurate chapter--of History that was +ever penned by man or woman? + +Macaulay wrote in all the fullness of his knowledge of what Fanny +Burney had written. He knew that for four years after she had published +_Cecilia_ her pen had been idle so far as fiction was concerned. He knew +that for five years after her release from the thraldom of the Queen's +closet she had published nothing; he himself felt it to be his duty to +point out the comparative worthlessness of _Camilla_, the novel which +she then gave to the world, not because she felt upon her the impulse of +a woman of genius, but simply because she found herself in great need +of some ready money. Macaulay does not disdain to go into the money +question, showing (he fancies) how Dr. Burney had by his obstinacy +deprived his gifted daughter of earning the large sum which she would +assuredly have obtained by the writing of a novel in the time that +she was compelled to devote to the Queen's _toilette_. He found it +convenient to ignore the fact that of the fourteen years that elapsed +between the publication of _Cecilia_ and that of _Camilla_ only five +were spent at Court. Surely any born novelist could, without running +a chance of imperilling a well-earned reputation by undue haste in the +dialogue or by scamping the descriptive passages, contrive by dint of +hard, but not over-hard, work to produce more than one complete romance +within a space of nine years. Many ladies who are not born novelists +have succeeded in surpassing this task without physical suffering. + +But even assuming that the author of _Evelina, Cecilia, and Camilla_ +lost not only time but money while she was at Court, how much money did +she lose? She received at least the equivalent of 2000 for her five +years' service, and she was granted a pension of 100 a year, which she +drew for forty-nine years; so that for her enforced seclusion she was +remunerated to the extent of close upon 7000! This sum represents more +than all Fanny Burney's literary works yielded to her from the joyous +youthful days of _Evelina_ down to the somewhat sordid middle age of +_Camilla_. + +But what has the world gained by the lamentable short-sightedness +attributed to Dr. Burney? How is one to estimate the value of that +incomparable Diary so admirably "written up" during her tedious five +years at Court? How many _Cecilias_, how many _Camillas_ would one not +give in exchange for a single year of that part of the Diary which deals +with the approach of the King's malady? In no work of fiction that ever +came from her pen did she ever show such power of observation, not only +of incident, but of character as well; nor is there apparent on any page +produced by her imagination such perfect artistic effects as appeal to a +reader on every page of this Diary of a disease. + +At the outset of her account of these dreadful days we are conscious +of the vague approach of a shadow--we feel as if we were led into the +darkened chamber of a haunted house. Our attendant pauses by our side, +listening for strange noises; she lays a hand upon our arm, as it were, +and speaks to us in a whisper. We feel that the dread Thing is coming. +The King is indisposed--he has not been quite in his usual health for +some time past; but of course nothing very alarming has been announced +by Sir George Barker, the Physician in Ordinary, although there is an +uncertainty as to His Majesty's complaint. But Miss Burney has seen the +faces of the people about her who have come more closely in contact with +the Sovereign; she has doubtless noticed the solemnity of some--the airs +of mystery, the head-shakings, and she is capable of drawing her own +conclusions. "Heaven preserve him!" she whispers in her Diary for +October 19th, 1788. She is very much with the Queen, and she perceives +that Her Majesty is extremely uneasy, though saying nothing. There is +great alarm during the night. Possibly some one has heard the delirious +voice of the King coming from his apartments in that tumbledown palace +of his at Kew. The fright is general, and every one is wondering what +the morning will bring forth. Hope comes with the light. The bulletin is +that the King was ill, but is now so very much better that his physician +believes the move to Windsor, to which the Court was looking forward, +may be taken. The move is made on the 25th, and then Miss Burney has a +chance meeting with the King that causes her to suspect the truth. He +talks to her with unnatural vehemence--unnatural volubility--and without +cessation for a long time; all is exaggerated, and his graciousness most +of all. She has never met with anything like this before, but having +heard of the delirium accompanying a high fever, she believes that His +Majesty is in the throes of a fever. + +The next day is Sunday, and she meets him again in one of the passages, +and she finds him rather more coherent in his talk, but still it is the +talk of a man in the delirium of a fever. It is all about himself--his +health--his dreadful sleeplessness. He keeps at it for half an hour +without making the slightest pause; and yet he manages to convey to +her an impression of his benevolence--his consideration for the people +around him--his hopes that he may not cause them any uneasiness. When he +leaves her she doubtless tells of the meeting to some of her friends in +the apartments where the equerries are accustomed to meet, and doubtless +there are more head-shakings and airs of mystery; but she records: +"Nobody speaks of his illness, nor what they think of it." + +Apparently, too, no one felt it to be necessary to subject His Majesty +to any course of treatment, although, a few days later, he became +so weak that he, who at the beginning of the year thought nothing of +walking twelve miles at a stretch--more than his sons could do--hobbled +along like a gouty man. Gradually, very gradually, the horror +approaches; and nothing that has ever been done in fiction equals in +effect the simple record of all that Fanny Burney noticed from day to +day. Most touching of all her entries are those relating to the Queen. +"The Queen," she writes, "is almost overpowered with some secret +terror. I am affected beyond all expression in her presence to see what +struggles she makes to support her serenity. To-day she gave up the +conflict when I was alone with her; and burst into a violent fit of +tears. It was very, very terrible to see!... something horrible seemed +impending... I was still wholly unsuspicious of the greatness of the +cause she had for dread. Illness, a breaking up of the constitution, the +payment of sudden infirmity and premature old age for the waste of +unguarded health and strength--these seemed to me the threats awaiting +her; and great and grievous enough, yet how short of the fact!"... + +At last the terrible truth was revealed. Miss Burney was dining with one +of the Queen's ladies; but there was little conversation between them. +It was clear that both had their suspicions of the nature of the dread +shadow that was hovering over the castle. They remained together, +waiting for the worst. "A stillness the most uncommon reigned over the +whole house. Nobody stirred; not a voice was heard; not a motion. I +could do nothing but watch, without knowing for what; there seemed a +strangeness in the house most extraordinary." + +To talk of such passages as these as examples of literary art would be +ridiculous. They are transcripts from life itself made by some one with +a genius for observation, not merely for recording. Boswell had a genius +for recording; but his powers of observation were on a level with those +of a sheep. We know perfectly well what his treatment of the scenes +leading up to the tragedy of the King would have been. But Fanny Burney +had the artist's instinct for collecting only such incidents as heighten +the effect. + +When she is still sitting in the dim silence of that November evening +with her friend some one enters to whisper that there was to be no +playing of the after-dinner music in which the King usually took so much +pleasure. Later on the equerries come slowly into the room. There is +more whispering--more head-shaking. What was it all about? Had anything +happened? What had happened? No one wishes to be the first to speak. But +the suspense! The strain upon the nerves of the two ladies! At last it +can be borne no longer. The dreadful revelation is made. The King is a +madman! + +At dinner, the Prince of Wales being present, His Majesty had "broken +forth into positive delirium, which long had been menacing all who +saw him most closely; and the Queen was so overpowered as to fall into +violent hysterics. All the princesses were in misery, and the Prince of +Wales had burst into tears. No one knew what was to follow--no one could +conjecture the event." Nothing could be more pathetic than the concern +of the King for his wife. His delusion is that she is the sufferer. When +Fanny Burney went to her room, where she was accustomed to await her +nightly summons to attend Her Majesty, she remained there alone for two +hours. At midnight she can stand the suspense no longer. She opens the +door and listens in the passage. Not a sound is to be heard. Not even +a servant crossed the stairs on the corridor off which her apartment +opened. After another hour's suspense a page knocks at her door with the +message that she is to go at once to her Royal mistress. + +"My poor Royal Mistress!" she writes. "Never can I forget her +countenance--pale, ghastly pale she looked... her whole frame was +disordered, yet she was still and quiet. And the poor King is dreadfully +uneasy about her. Nothing was the matter with himself, he affirmed, +except nervousness on her account. He insisted on having a bed made +up for himself in her dressing-room in order that he might be at hand +should she become worse through the night. He had given orders that Miss +Goldsworthy was to remain with her; but it seemed that he had no great +confidence in the vigilance of any one but himself, for some hours +after the Queen had retired he appeared before the eyes of the horrified +lady-in-waiting, at the door, bearing a lighted candle. He opened the +bed curtains and satisfied himself that his dread of her being carried +out of the palace was unfounded; but he did not leave the room for +another half-hour, and the terror of the scene completely overwhelmed +the unhappy lady." + +Truly when this terror was walking by night Fanny Burney's stipend was +well earned. But worse was in store for her when it was decided that the +King should be removed to Kew Palace, which he detested and which was +certainly the most miserable of all the miserable dwelling-places of the +Royal Family. It seemed to be nobody's business to make any preparation +for the reception of the Queen and her entourage. The rooms were dirty +and unwarmed, and the corridors were freezing. And to the horrors of +this damp, unsavoury barrack was added Mrs. Schwellenberg, the German +she-dragon who had done her best to make Fanny Burney's life unendurable +during the previous three years. Formerly Fanny had dwelt upon the +ill-treatment she had received at the hands of this old harridan; +but now she only refers to her as an additional element of casual +discomfort. The odious creature is "so oppressed between her spasms and +the house's horrors, that the oppression she inflicted ought perhaps +to be pardoned. It was, however, difficult enough to bear," she adds. +"Harshness, tyranny, dissension, and even insult seemed personified. I +cut short details upon this subject--they would but make you sick." + +Truly little Miss Burney earned her wages at this time. The dilapidated +palace was only rendered habitable by the importation of a cartload of +sandbags, which were as strategically distributed for the exclusion of +the draughts as if they were the usual defensive supply of a siege. But +even this ingenious device failed to neutralise the Arctic rigours of +the place. The providing of carpets for some of the bare floors of the +bedrooms and passages was a startling innovation; but eventually it was +carried out. An occasional set of curtains also was smuggled into this +frozen fairy palace, and a sofa came now and again. + +But in spite of all these auxiliaries to luxury--in spite, too, of Mrs. +Schwellenberg's having locked herself into her room, forbidding any one +to disturb her--the dreariness and desolation of the December at Kew +must have caused Miss Burney to think with longing of the comforts of +her father's home in St. Martin's Street and of the congenial atmosphere +which she breathed during her numerous visits to the Thrales' solid +mansion at Streatham. + +[Illustration: 0035] + +The condition of the King was becoming worse, and early whispers of +the necessity for a Regency grew louder. It was understood that Mrs. +Fitzherbert would be made a duchess! Everybody outside the palace sought +to stand well in the estimation of the Prince of Wales, and Pitt was +pointed out as a traitor to his country because he did his best +to postpone the Comus orgy which every one knew would follow the +establishing of a Regency. The appointment of the Doctors Willis was +actually referred to as a shocking impiety, suggesting as it did a +wicked rebellion against the decree of the Almighty, Who, according to +Burke, had hurled the monarch from his throne. There were, however, some +who did not regard Mr. Burke as an infallible judge on such a point, and +no one was more indignant at the mouthings of the rhetorician than Miss +Burney. But it seemed as if the approach of the Regency could no longer +be retarded. The Willises were unable to certify to any improvement +in the condition of the King during the month of January, 1789. It was +really not until he had that chase after Fanny Burney in Kew Gardens +that a change for the better came about. + +Though she was greatly terrified by his affectionate salutation, +she could not but have been surprised at the sanity displayed in +the monologue that followed; for one of the first of his innumerable +questions revealed to her the fact that he was perfectly well aware of +what a trial to her patience was the odious Mrs. Schwellenberg. He asked +how she was getting on with Mrs. Schwellenberg, and he did so with a +laugh that showed her how well he appreciated her difficulties in this +direction in the past. Before she could say a word he was making light +of the Schwellenberg--adopting exactly the strain that he knew would be +most effective with Miss Burney. + +"Never mind her--never mind her! Don't be oppressed! I am your friend! +Don't let her cast you down--I know that you have a hard time of it--but +don't mind her!" + +The advice and the tone in which it was given--with a pleasant +laugh--did not seem very consistent with what she expected from a +madman. Fanny Burney appears up to that moment to have been under the +impression that the King and Queen had known nothing of the tyranny and +the insults to which she had been subjected by Mrs. Schwellenberg. But +now it was made plain to her that the eyes of the Royal couple had been +open all the time. If Macaulay had noticed the passage touching upon +this point he would have had still stronger grounds for his attack upon +their Majesties for their want of consideration for the tire-woman who +was supposed never to be tired. + +But how much more surprised must Fanny Burney have been when the King +went on to talk to her in the most cordially confidential way about her +father! It must have been another revelation to her when he showed how +fully he realised the ambitions of Dr. Burney. He asked her regarding +the progress of the _History of Music_, at which Dr. Burney had been +engaged for several years, and this gave him a chance of getting +upon his favourite topic, the music of Handel. But when he began to +illustrate some of his impressions on this fruitful theme by singing +over the choruses of an oratorio or two--perhaps such trifles as "All we +like Sheep," or "Lift up your Heads," or the "Hallelujah"--he must have +gone far toward neutralising the good opinion she had formed as to his +sanity. Fortunately the attendant doctors interposed at this point; but +the fact that the distinguished amateur suffered their adverse criticism +proves to posterity that the King was even more good-natured than he had +been painted by Miss Burney. + +On then he went to talk of the subject which must never have been far +from Dr. Burney's heart--the Mastership of the King's Band: "Your father +ought to have had the post, and not that little poor musician Parsons, +who was not fit for it," he cried. "But Lord Salisbury used your father +very ill in that business, and so he did me! However, I have dashed +out his name, and I shall put your father's in--as soon as I get loose +again. What has your father got at last? Nothing but that poor thing at +Chelsea! Oh, fie! fie! But never mind! I will take care of him--I will +do it myself!" + +Could he have given the devoted daughter of Dr. Burney a more emphatic +proof of his complete recovery to sanity than this? Why, it would have +convinced Dr. Burney himself! + +Alas! although the King may have been very resolute at the moment--he +had just been making out a list of new officers of State, and was ready +to show her that the name of her father's enemy, Lord Salisbury, was not +to be found in it, and he assured her that in future he would rule with +a rod of iron--yet before he returned to his ordinary way of life he +must have mislaid his list, for poor Dr. Burney remained at his post of +organist of Chelsea Hospital. He never attained to the place which +he coveted and for which his daughter was sent to five years' Royal +servitude, and (incidentally) to achieve for herself that immortality +as a chronicler which would certainly never have been won by her as a +novelist. + +But the King did not confine his conversation to the one topic which he +knew was of greatest interest to her. He spoke of Mrs. Delany, who had +been the means of introducing Fanny to the Royal circle; and he referred +to the ill-treatment which he had received at the hands of one of his +pages; but this was the only passage that savoured of unkindness, and +the chronicler is unable to do more than hope that the conduct of the +pages was one of His Majesty's delusions. Then, with what seems to us to +be consummate adroitness, he put some questions to her which she could +not but answer. "They referred to information given to him in his +illness from various motives, but which he suspected to be false, and +which I knew he had reason to suspect," Miss Burney writes. "Yet was it +most dangerous to set anything right, as I was not aware what might be +the views of their having been stated wrong. I was as discreet as I knew +how to be, and I hope I did no mischief: but this was the worst part of +the dialogue." + +We can quite believe that it was, and considering that it was the part +of the dialogue which was most interesting to the King, we think that +Miss Burney was to be congratulated upon the tact she displayed in her +answers. She did not cause the King to be more perturbed than he was +when waxing indignant over the conduct of his pages; and there was no +need for Dr. Willis to interfere at this point, though he did a little +later on. Then submitting with the utmost docility to the control of +his excellent attendant, and with another exhortation not to pay any +attention to the whims of the Schwellenberg, the gracious gentleman +kissed her once more on the cheek and allowed her to take her departure. + +So ended this remarkable adventure in Kew Gardens. One can picture +Fanny Burney flying to tell the Queen all that had occurred--to repeat +everything that her discretion permitted her of the conversation; and +one has no difficulty in imagining the effect upon Queen Charlotte +of all that she narrated; but it seems rather hard that from Mrs. +Schwellenberg should have been withheld the excellent advice given by +the King to Miss Burney respecting the German virago. + +It would have been impossible either for Fanny Burney or the Queen +to come to any conclusion from all that happened except one that was +entirely satisfactory to both. King George III was undoubtedly on the +high road to recovery, and subsequent events confirmed this opinion. It +really seemed that the interview with the author of _Evelina_ marked the +turning-point in his malady at this time. Every day brought its record +of improvement, and within a fortnight the dreaded Regency Bill, which +had been sent up to the Lords, was abandoned. On March 1st there +were public thanksgivings in all the churches, followed by such an +illumination of London as had not been seen since the great fire. The +scene at Kew is admirably described by Miss Burney, who had written some +congratulatory lines to be offered by the Princess Amelia to the King. A +great "transparency" had been painted by the Queen's order, representing +the King, Providence, Health, and Britannia--a truly British +tableau--and when this was hung out and illuminated the little Princess +"went to lead her papa to the front window." Then she dropped on her +knees and gave him the "copy of verses," with the postscript: + + The little bearer begs a kiss + + From dear papa for bringing this. + +The "dear papa" took his dear child in his arms, and held her close to +him for some time. Nothing could have been more charmingly natural and +affecting. For such a picture of Royalty at home we are indebted to +Fanny Burney, and, face to face with it, we are selfish enough to feel +grateful to Dr. Burney for having given his daughter for five years +to discharge a humble duty to her Sovereign and an immortal one to her +fellow-countrymen, who have read her Diary and placed it on a shelf +between Pepys and de Gramont. + + + + +A COMEDY IN ST. MARTIN'S STREET + +DR BURNEY was giving a "command" party at his house in St. Martin's +Street, Leicester Fields--the house which Sir Isaac Newton did +once inhabit, and which was still crowned with the most celebrated +observatory in Europe. In the early years of his musical career he had +had a patron, Mr. Fulk Greville, who had done a great deal for him, +and in later days he had never quite forgotten this fact, although +Dr. Burney had climbed high on the professional as well as the social +ladder, and was better known in the world than Mr. Greville himself. He +had become quite intimate with many great persons and several curious +ones. It is uncertain whether Mr. Greville regarded Dr. Johnson as +belonging to the former or the latter class, but at any rate he had +heard a great deal about Dr. Johnson, and did not think that, provided +he took every reasonable precaution, any harm could come to himself from +meeting such a notability. He accordingly instructed Dr. Burney to bring +him and Johnson together, and Burney promised to do so. Before the day +for this meeting was fixed Mrs. Greville--who, by the way, was Fanny +Burney's godmother--had signified her intention of viewing the huge +person also, and of bringing her daughter, the exquisite Mrs. Crewe, to +attend the promised exhibition of genius in bulk. + +Of course Dr. Johnson was ready to lend himself to any plan that might +be devised to increase the circumference of his circle of admirers, and +besides, this Mr. Fulk Greville was a descendant of the friend of Sir +Philip Sidney, and had large possessions, as well as a magnificent +country seat, and altogether he would make a most desirable listener; so +he agreed to come to the party to be inspected by the Greville family. +Burney, however, wishing, as every responsible proprietor of a menagerie +should wish, to be on the safe side and exhibit his bear under the eye +and the controlling influence of his favourite keeper, invited Mr. and +Mrs. Thrale to the party. + +These were to be the "principals" in the comedy of this entertainment; +and for the subordinates he selected his married daughter and her +husband--both admirable musicians--Mr. Davenant, Mr. Seward, and a +certain Italian musician, a vocalist as well as a performer on the +violin and that new instrument which was at first called the fortepiano, +then the pianoforte, and later on simply the piano. This person's name +was Gabrielli Piozzi. + +Such were the harmonious elements which Dr. Burney proposed to bring +together for the gratification of Mr. Fulk Greville and his wife. Mr. +Greville was an amateur of some little capacity, and he had certainly at +one time been greatly interested in music. He had paid 300 to Burney's +master, the celebrated Dr. Arne, who composed in the masque of "Alfred" +the rousing anthem known as "Rule Britannia," for the cancelling of +Burney's indentures as an apprentice to the "art of musick," and had +taken the young man into his own house in a capacity which may best be +described as that of entertaining secretary. Dr. Burney may therefore +have thought in his wisdom that, should Johnson be in one of his +bearish moods and feel disinclined to exhibit his parts of speech to +Mr. Greville, the latter would be certain of entertainment from the +musicians. This showed forethought and a good working knowledge of Dr. +Johnson. But in spite of the second string to the musician's bow +the party was a fiasco--that is, from the standpoint of a social +entertainment; it included one incident, however, which made it the most +notable of the many of the Burney parties of which a record remains. + +And what records there are available to any one interested in the +entertainments given by Dr. Burney and his charming family at that +modest house of theirs, just round the corner from Sir Joshua Reynolds' +larger establishment in Leicester Fields! Hundreds of people who +contributed to make the second half of the eighteenth century the most +notable of any period so far as literature and the arts were concerned, +since the spacious days of Elizabeth, were accustomed to meet together +informally at this house, and to have their visits recorded for all ages +to muse upon. To that house came Garrick, not to exhibit his brilliance +as a talker before a crowd of admirers, but to entertain the children +of the household with the buffooning that never flagged, and that +never fell short of genius in any exhibition. He was the delight of the +schoolroom. Edmund Burke and his brother, both fond of conversation when +oratory was not available, were frequently here; Reynolds came with +many of his sitters, and found fresh faces for his canvas among his +fellow-guests; and with him came his maiden sister, feeling herself more +at home with the simple Burney circle than she ever did with the company +who assembled almost daily under her brother's roof. Nollekens, the +sculptor; Colman, the dramatist and theatre manager, who was obliged to +run away from London to escape the gibes which were flung at him from +every quarter when Goldsmith's _She Stoops to Conquer_, which he had +done his best to make a failure, became the greatest success of the +year; Cumberland, the embittered rival of Goldsmith, who was the person +who gave the solitary hiss during the first performance of the same +play, causing the timid author to say to the manager on entering the +playhouse, "What is that, sir--pray, what is that? Is it a hiss?" To +which Colman replied, "Psha! sir, what signifies a squib when we have +been sitting on a barrel of gunpowder all night?" + +These were among the notabilities; and the "curiosities" were quite as +numerous. The earliest of Arctic voyagers, Sir Constantine Phipps, who +later became Lord Mulgrave, put in an appearance at more than one of the +parties; and so did Omai, the "gentle savage" of the poet Cowper, who +was brought by Captain Cook from the South Seas in the ship on which +young Burney was an officer. The sisters, who, of course, idolised the +sailor, sat open-mouthed with wonder to hear their brother chatting away +to Omai in his native language. Upon another occasion came Bruce, the +Abyssinian traveller, who told the story of how steaks were cut from the +live ox when needed by the inhabitants of one region. He was immensely +tall, as were some of his stories; but though extremely dignified, he +did not object to a practical joke. Another person of great stature who +visited the Burneys was the notorious Count Orloff, the favourite of the +Empress Catherine of Russia; and from the letters of one of the young +people of the household one has no difficulty in perceiving with what +interest he was regarded by the girls, especially since the report +reached them that he had personally strangled his imperial master at the +instigation of his imperial mistress. + +These are but, a few names out of the many on the Burneys' visiting +list. Of course, as regards musical artists, the house was the +rendezvous of the greatest in London. While the opera-house in the +Haymarket was open there was a constant flow of brilliant vocalists to +these shores, and the young people had many opportunities of becoming +acquainted with the ignorance, the capriciousness, the affectations, and +the abilities which were to be found associated with the lyric stage in +the eighteenth century, as they are in the twentieth. Among the prime +donne who sang for the Burneys were the Agujari--a marvellous performer, +who got fifty pounds for every song she sang at the Pantheon--and her +great but uncertain rival, Gabrielli. The former, according to Mozart, +who may possibly be allowed to be something of a judge, had a vocal +range which was certainly never equalled by any singer before or after +his time. She won all hearts and a great deal of money during her visit +to London, and she left with the reputation of being the most marvellous +and most rapacious of Italians. Gabrielli seems to have tried to make up +by capriciousness what she lacked in expression. Her voice was, so far +as can be gathered from contemporary accounts, small and thin. But by +judiciously disappointing the public she became the most widely talked +of vocalist in the country. Then among the men were the simple and +gracious Pacchierotti--who undoubtedly became attached to Fanny +Burney--Rauzzini, and Piozzi. + +[Illustration: 0049] + +The Burneys' house was for years the centre of the highest intellectual +entertainment to be found in London, and the tact of the head of the +household, and the simple, natural manners of his daughters, usually +succeeded in preventing the intrusion of a single inharmonious note, in +spite of the fact that a Welsh harpist named Jones had once been among +the visitors. + +But upon the occasion of this "command" party, when Greville was to meet +Johnson, and the latter had dressed himself with that extreme care which +we suspect meant that he tied up his hose, and put on a wig the front of +which had not yet been burnt away by coming in contact with his lighted +candle, Burney's tact overreached itself. Mr. Greville may have felt +that the Thrales had no business to be of the party, or Johnson may have +gained the impression that Burney's old patron was anxious to play the +same part, in an honorary sort of way, in regard to himself. At any +rate, he refused to be drawn out to exhibit his conversational powers +to a supercilious visitor; and after a brief space of time he turned his +back upon every one and his face to the fire, and there he sat, greatly +to the discomfiture, no doubt, of his host. In a very short time a gloom +settled down upon the whole party. Mr. Thrale, stiff and reserved, was +not the man to pull things together. He sat mute on his chair, making no +advance toward Mr. Greville, and Mr. Greville had probably his chin in +the air, having come to the conclusion that Dr. Johnson's powers as a +conversationalist had been greatly overrated by rumour. + +It was when all hope of sociability had vanished that Dr. Burney, +who, when a church organist, may have had occasion to cover up the +shortcomings of the clergyman by a timely voluntary, begged Signor +Piozzi to oblige the company with a song. But Piozzi was a forlorn hope. +He was the last man in the world to save the situation. Had he been a +vocalist of the calibre of Pacchierotti he could have made no headway +against the funereal gloom that had settled down upon the party. + +Piozzi had a sweet and highly trained voice, though some years earlier +he had lost its best notes, and he sang with exquisite expression; +but when playing his own accompaniment, with his back turned to his +audience, he was prone to exaggerate the sentiment of the music until +sentiment became lost in an exuberance of sentimentality. + +This style of singing is not that to which any one would resort in order +to dissipate a sudden social gloom. As the singer went on the gloom +deepened. + +It was just at this moment that one of those ironic little imps that +lurk in wainscot nooks looking out for an opportunity to influence an +unconscious human being to an act which the little demon, seeing the +end of a scene of which mortals only see the beginning, regards with +sardonic glee, whispered something in the ear of Mrs. Thrale, and in +an instant, in obedience to its prompting, she had left her chair and +stolen behind the singer at the piano. Raising her hands and turning +up her eyes in imitation of Piozzi, she indulged in a piece of mimicry +which must have shocked every one in the room except the singer, who had +his back to her, and Dr. Johnson, who, besides being too short-sighted +to be able to see her, was gazing into the grate. + +No doubt the flippant little lady felt that a touch of farcical fun +was the very thing needed to make the party go with a snap; but such +flagrant bad taste as was involved in the transaction was more than +Dr. Burney could stand. Keeping his temper marvellously well in hand, +considering his provocation, he went gently behind the gesticulating +woman and put a stop to her fooling. Shaking his head, he whispered in a +"half joke whole earnest" way: + +"Because, madam, you have no ear yourself for music, will you destroy +the attention of all who, in that one point, are otherwise gifted?" + +Or words to that effect, it might be safe to add, for the phrases as +recorded in the diary of one of his daughters are a trifle too academic +for even Dr. Burney to have whispered on the spur of the moment. But he +certainly reproved the lady, and she took his remonstrance in good part, +and showed herself to be admirably appreciative of the exact pose to +assume in order to save the situation. She went demurely to her chair +and sat there stiffly, and with the affectation of a schoolgirl who has +been admonished for a fault and commanded to take a seat in silence and +apart from the rest of the class. It must be apparent to every one that +this was the precise attitude for her to strike in the circumstances, +and that she was able to perceive this in a rather embarrassing moment +shows that Mrs. Thrale was quite as clever as her friends made her out +to be. + +But regarding the incident itself, surely the phrase, "the irony of +fate," was invented to describe it. A better illustration of the sport +of circumstance could not be devised, for in the course of time the +lively little lady, who had gone as far as any one could go in making a +mock of another, had fallen as deep in love with the man whom she mocked +as ever Juliet did with her Romeo. She found that she could not live +without him, and, sacrificing friends, position, and fortune, she threw +herself into his arms, and lived happy ever after. + +The conclusion of the first scene in this saturnine comedy which was +being enacted in the drawing-room in that house in St. Martin's Street, +was in perfect keeping with the _mise-en-scne_ constructed by Fate, +taking the rle of Puck. It is admirably described in the diary of +Charlotte Burney. She wrote that Mr. Greville--whom she nicknamed "Mr. +Gruel"--assumed "his most supercilious air of distant superiority" and +"planted himself immovable as a noble statue upon the hearth, as if a +stranger to the whole set." + +By this time Dr. Johnson must have had enough of the fire at which +he had been sitting, and we at once see how utterly hopeless were the +social relations at this miserable party when we hear that the men "were +so kind and considerate as to divert themselves by making a fire-screen +to the whole room." But Dr. Johnson, having thoroughly warmed himself, +was now in a position to administer a rebuke to the less fortunate ones, +and, when nobody would have imagined that he had known the gentlemen +were in the room, he said that "if he was not ashamed he would keep the +fire from the ladies too." + +"This reproof (for a reproof it certainly was, although given in a very +comical, dry way) was productive," Charlotte adds, "of a scene as good +as a comedy, for Mr. Suard tumbled on to a sopha directly, Mr. Thrale on +to a chair, Mr. Davenant sneaked off the premises, seemingly in as great +a fright and as much confounded as if he had done any bad action, and +Mr. Gruel being left solus, was obliged to stalk off." + +A more perfect description of the "curtain" to the first act of this, +"as good as a comedy," could not be imagined. In every scene of this +memorable evening the mocking figure of an impish Fate can be discerned. +There was the tactful and urbane Dr. Burney anxious to gratify his old +patron by presenting to him the great Dr. Johnson, and at the same time +to show on what excellent terms he himself was with the family of the +wealthy brewer, Mr. Thrale. Incidentally he has caused Johnson to put +himself to the inconvenience of a clean shirt and a respectable wig; +and, like a thoughtful general, lest any of his plans should fall short +of fulfilment, he has invited an interesting vocalist to cover up the +retreat and make failure almost impossible! + +Dr. Burney could do wonders by the aid of his tact and urbanity, but he +is no match for Fate playing the part of Puck. Within an hour Johnson +has disappointed him and become grumpy--the old bear has found the buns +to be stale; Mr. Greville, the patron, is in a patronising mood, and +becomes stiff and aloof because Johnson, secure with his pension, +resents it; Mrs. Thrale, anxious to do her best for Burney, and at the +same time to show Mrs. Greville and her fine daughter how thoroughly +at home she is in the house and how delicate is her sense of humour, +strikes an appallingly false note, and only saves herself by a touch of +cleverness from appearing wholly ridiculous. This is pretty well for the +opening scenes, but the closing catastrophe is not long delayed. The men +huddle themselves together in stony silence; and they are reproved for +impoliteness by--whom? Dr. Johnson, the man who has studied boorishness +and advanced it to a place among the arts--the man who calls those who +differ from him dolts and fools and rascals--the man whose manners at +the dinner table are those of the sty and trough--the man who walks +about the streets ungartered and unclean--this is the man who has the +effrontery to rebuke for their rudeness such gentlemen as Mr. Fulk +Greville, Mr. Seward, and Mr. Thrale! Puck can go no further. Down comes +the curtain when one gentleman collapses upon a "sopha," another into a +chair, a third sneaks off like a culprit, and the fourth stalks off with +an air of offended dignity! + +It might be thought that the imp of mischief who had assumed the control +of this evening's entertainment would be satisfied at the result of his +pranks so far. Nothing of the sort. He was only satisfied when he +had made a match between the insignificant figure who was playing the +musical accompaniment to his pranks and the lady who thought that his +presence in the room was only justifiable on the ground that he made an +excellent butt for her mockery! + +And the funniest part of the whole comedy is to be found in the fact +that the pair lived happy ever after! + +The extraordinary influence which Boswell has had upon almost every +student of the life of the latter half of the eighteenth century is +shown in a marked way by the general acceptance of his view--which it is +scarcely necessary to say was Johnson's view--of the second marriage of +Mrs. Thrale. We are treating Boswell much more fairly than he treated +Mrs. Thrale when we acknowledge at once that his opinion was shared by a +considerable number of the lady's friends, including Dr. Burney and +his family. They were all shocked when they heard that the widow of +the Southwark brewer had married the Italian musician, Signor Gabrielli +Piozzi. Even in the present day, when one might reasonably expect +that, the miserable pettiness of Boswell's character having been made +apparent, his judgment on most points would be received with a smile, he +is taken very seriously by a good many people. It has long ago been made +plain that Boswell was quite unscrupulous in his treatment of every one +that crossed his path or made an attempt to interfere with the aim of +his life, which was to become the biographer of Johnson. The instances +of his petty malevolence which have come to light within recent years +are innumerable. They show that the opinion which his contemporaries +formed of him was absolutely correct. We know that he was regarded as a +cur who was ever at Johnson's heels, and took the insults of the great +man with a fawning complacency that was pathetically canine. He was +daily called a cur. "Oh, no," said Goldsmith, "he is not a cur, only a +burr; Tom Davies flung him at Johnson one day as a joke, and he stuck to +him ever since"--a cur, and an ape and a spy and a Branghton--the last +by Dr. Johnson himself in the presence of a large company, that included +the creator of the contemptible Mr. Branghton. (The incident was not, +however, recorded by Mr. Boswell himself.) But as the extraordinary +interest in his _Life of Johnson_ began to be acknowledged, the force of +contemporary opinion gradually dwindled away, until Boswell's verdicts +and Boswell's inferences found general acceptance; and even now +Goldsmith is regarded as an Irish _omadhaum_, because Boswell did his +best to make him out to be one, and Mrs. Thrale is thought to have +forfeited her claims to respect because she married Signor Piozzi. + +People forget the origin of Boswell's malevolence in both cases. He +detested Goldsmith because Goldsmith was a great writer, who was capable +of writing a great biography of Johnson, with whom he had been on the +most intimate terms long before Tom Davies flung his burr at Johnson; he +hated Baretti and recorded--at the sacrifice of Johnson's reputation for +humanity--Johnson's cynical belittling of him, because he feared that +Baretti would write _the_ biography; he was spiteful in regard to Mrs. +Thrale because she actually did write something biographical about +Johnson. + +The impudence of such a man as Boswell writing about "honest Dr. +Goldsmith" is only surpassed by his allusions to the second marriage of +Mrs. Thrale. He was a fellow-guest with Johnson at the Thrales' house in +1775, and he records something of a conversation which he says occurred +on the subject of a woman's marrying some one greatly beneath her +socially. "When I recapitulate the debate," he says, "and recollect what +has since happened, I cannot but be struck in a manner that delicacy +forbids me to express! While I contended that she ought to be treated +with inflexible steadiness of displeasure, Mrs. Thrale was all for +mildness and forgiveness and, according to the vulgar phrase, making the +best of a bad bargain." This was published after the second marriage. +What would be thought of a modern biographer who should borrow a little +of Boswell's "delicacy," and refer to a similar incident in the same +style? + +In his own inimitable small way Boswell was for ever sneering at Mrs. +Thrale. Sometimes he did it with that scrupulous delicacy of which an +example has just been given; but he called her a liar more than once +with considerable indelicacy, and his readers will without much trouble +come to the conclusion that his indelicacy was preferable to his +delicacy--it certainly came more natural to him. He was small and mean +in all his ways, and never smaller or meaner than in his references to +Mrs. Thrale's second marriage. + +But, it must be repeated, he did not stand alone in regarding her union +with Piozzi as a _msalliance_. Dr. Burney was shocked at the thought +that any respectable woman would so far forget herself as to marry +a musician, and his daughter Fanny wept remorseful tears when she +reflected that she had once been the friend of a lady who did not shrink +from marrying a foreigner and a Roman Catholic--more of the irony of +Fate, for Fanny Burney was herself guilty of the same indiscretion later +on: she made a happy marriage with a Roman Catholic foreigner, who +lived on her pension and her earnings. Dr. Johnson was brutal when +the conviction was forced upon him that he would no longer have an +opportunity of insulting a lady who had treated him with incredible +kindness, or the guests whom he met at her table. Upon one of the last +occasions of his dining at Mrs. Thrale's house at Streatham, a gentleman +present--an inoffensive Quaker--ventured to make a remark respecting the +accuracy with which the red-hot cannon-balls were fired at the Siege of +Gibraltar. Johnson listened for some time, and then with a cold sneer +said, "I would advise you, sir, never to relate this story again. You +really can scarce imagine how very poor a figure you make in the telling +of it." Later on he took credit to himself for not quarrelling with his +victim when the latter chose to talk to his brother rather than to the +man who had insulted him. Yes, it can quite easily be understood that +Johnson should look on the marriage as a sad _msalliance_, and possibly +it is fair to assume from the letter which he wrote to the lady that he +felt hurt when he heard that it was to take place. + +Mrs. Thrale wrote to tell him that she meant to marry Piozzi, and +received the following reply: + +"Madam,--If I interpret your letter right, you are ignominiously +married; if it is yet undone, let us once more talk together. If +you have abandoned your children and your religion, God forgive your +wickedness; if you have forfeited your fame and your country, may your +folly do no further mischief!" + +Possibly the lady may have gathered from the hint or two conveyed +to her, with Boswellian delicacy, in this letter, that Johnson was +displeased with her. At any rate, she replied, declining to continue the +correspondence. + +In her letter she summed up the situation exactly as a reasonable +person, acquainted with all the facts, and knowing something of the +first husband, would do. + +"The birth of my second husband is not meaner than that of my first," +she wrote; "his sentiments are not meaner; his profession is not meaner; +and his superiority in what he professes acknowledged by all mankind. It +is want of fortune, then, that is ignominious; the character of the man +I have chosen has no other claim to such an epithet. The religion to +which he has always been a zealous adherent, will, I hope, teach him to +forgive insults he has not deserved; mine will, I hope, enable [me] +to bear them at once with dignity and patience. To hear that I have +forfeited my fame is indeed the greatest insult I ever yet received. My +fame is as unsullied as snow, or I should think it unworthy of him who +must henceforth protect it." + +This brought the surly burly mass of offended dignity to his proper +level; but still he would not offer the lady who had been his +benefactress for twenty years an apology for his brutality. He had the +presumption to offer his advice instead--advice and the story (highly +appropriate from his point of view) of Mary Queen of Scots and the +Archbishop of St. Andrews. He advised her to remain in England--he would +not relinquish his room in her house and his place at her table without +a struggle--as her rank would be higher in England than in Italy, and +her fortune would be under her own eye. The latter suggestion was a +delicate insult to Piozzi. + +Mrs. Piozzi, as she then became, showed that she esteemed this piece of +presumption, under the guise of advice, at its true value. Immediately +after her marriage she went abroad with her husband, though eventually +she settled with him in England. + +Now, most modern readers will, we think, when they have become +acquainted with the whole story of Mrs. Thrale's life, arrive at the +conclusion that it was her first marriage that was the _msalliance_, +not her second. + +[Illustration: 0065] + +Henry Thrale was a man of humble origin--a fact that revealed itself +almost daily in his life--and he was incapable of loving any one except +himself. He certainly never made a pretence of devotion to his wife, and +it is equally certain that, although she did more for him than any other +woman would have done, she never loved him. It might be going too far, +considering the diversity of temperament existing among womankind, to +assert that he was incapable of being loved by any woman; but beyond +a doubt he was not a lovable man. He was a stiff, dignified, morose, +uncongenial man, and he was a Member of Parliament into the bargain. +What could a pretty, lively, brilliant girl of good family see in such a +man as Thrale to make her love him? She never did love him--at times she +must have detested him. But she married him, and it was a lucky day +for him that she did so. Twice she saved him from bankruptcy, and three +times she induced his constituents, who thoroughly hated him, to return +him to Parliament as their representative. He never did anything in +Parliament, and he did little out of it that was worth remembering. It +is customary to make large allowances for a man of business who finds +that his wealth and a charming wife serve as a passport into what is +called society, though latterly such men do not stand in need of such +a favour being shown to them. But if a man betrays his ignorance of +certain social usages--not necessarily refinements--his friends excuse +him on the ground that he is a first-rate business man. Thrale, however, +was unworthy of such a title. He inherited a great scientific business, +but he showed himself so incapable of appreciating the methods by which +it had been built up, that he brought himself within a week or two of +absolute ruin by listening to a clumsy adventurer who advocated the +adoption of a system of adulteration of his beer that even a hundred +and fifty years ago would have brought him within sight of a criminal +prosecution. + +His literary wife, by her clever management, aided by the money of her +mother and of sundry of her own, not her husband's, friends, succeeded +in staving off the threatened disaster. But the pig-headed man did not +accept the lesson which one might imagine he would have learned. Seeing +the success that crowned other enterprises of the same character as his +own, he endeavoured to emulate this success, not by the legitimate way +of increasing his customers, but by the idiotic plan of over-production. +He had an idea that in the multiplying of the article which he had to +sell he was increasing his business. Once again he was helped from the +verge of ruin by his literary wife. + +He must have been a dreadful trial to her, and to a far-seeing manager +whom he had--a man named Perkins. Of course it was inevitable that the +force of character possessed by this Mr. Perkins must eventually prevail +against the dignified incompetence of the proprietor. The inevitable +happened, and the name of Perkins has for more than a hundred years been +bracketed with Barclay as a going concern, while the name of Thrale has +vanished for ever from "the Borough." + +It was this Mr. Perkins who, when the brewery was within five minutes of +absolute disaster, displayed the tactics of a great general in the face +of an implacable enemy, and saved the property. As a reward for his +services his master authorised the presentation to him of the sum of +a hundred pounds. His master's wife, however, being a more generous +assessor of the value of the man's ability, ventured to present double +the sum, together with a silver tea-service for Mrs. Perkins; but she +did so in fear and trembling, failing to summon up sufficient courage to +acquaint her husband with her extravagance until further concealment was +impossible. She was so overjoyed at his sanctioning the increase that +she at once wrote to her friends acquainting them with this evidence of +his generosity. + +This episode was certainly the most stirring in the history of Thrale's +brewery. The Gordon rioters had been terrorising London for several +days, burning houses in every direction, as well as Newgate and another +prison, and looting street after street. They had already overthrown one +brewery, and they found the incident so fascinating that they marched +across the bridge to the Southwark concern, raising the cry that Thrale +was a Papist. The Thrales were at this time sojourning at Bath, and +were in an agony of suspense regarding their property. They had left +Dr. Johnson comfortably ensconced at their Streatham house in order that +they might learn in dignified language how things were going on. + +This is Johnson's thrilling account of the incident: + +"What has happened to your house you all know. The harm is only a few +butts of beer, and I think you may be sure that the danger is over. Pray +tell Mr. Thrale that I live here, and have no fruit, and if he does not +interpose am not likely to have much; but I think he might as well give +me a little as give all to the gardener." + +There was a double catastrophe threatening, it would appear: the burning +of the brewery and the shortage in the supply of Dr. Johnson's peaches. + +This is how Mrs. Thrale describes the situation: + +"Nothing but the astonishing presence of mind shewed by Perkins in +amusing the mob, with meat and drink and huzzas, till Sir Philip +Jennings Clerke could get the troops, and pack up the counting-house, +bills, bonds etc. and carry them, which he did, to Chelsea College for +safety, could have saved us from actual undoing. The villains _had_ +broke in, and our brew-house would have blazed in ten minutes, when +a property of 150,000 would have been utterly lost, and its once +flourishing possessors quite undone." + +It seems almost incredible that Johnson, living at Streatham as the +guardian of Mr. Thrale's interests, should require the lady to write to +him, begging him to thank Perkins for his heroism. But so it was. + +"Perkins has behaved like an Emperor," she wrote, "and it is my earnest +wish and desire--command, if you please to call it so--that you will go +over to the brew-house and express _your_ sense of his good behaviour." + +Mrs. Thrale was unreasonable. How could Johnson be expected to take any +action when he was deprived of his peaches? + +It will strike a good many modern readers of the account of this and +other transactions that if it was Perkins who saved the brewery for Mr. +Thrale, it was Mrs. Thrale who saved Perkins for the brewery. Possibly +it was her prompt gift of the silver plate to Mrs. Perkins that induced +this splendid manager to pocket the insult of the beggarly two hundred +guineas given to him by Mrs. Thrale--though this was double the amount +authorised by the "master." Thrale never sufficiently valued the +services of Perkins. If he had had any gratitude in his composition he +would never have made Johnson one of his executors. What a trial it +must have been to the competent man of business to see Johnson lumbering +about the place with a pen behind his ear and an ink-pot suspended from +a button of his coat, getting in the way of everybody, and yet feeling +himself quite equal to any business emergency that might crop up. He +felt himself equal to anything--even to improve upon the auctioneer's +style in appraising the value of the whole concern. "Beyond the dreams +of avarice" remains as the sole classic phrase born beneath the shadow +of a brew-house. + +In the matter of the premium to Perkins, Thrale should have felt that he +had a treasure in his wife, to say nothing of all that she had done for +him upon another occasion, involving a terrible sacrifice. A quarrel had +broken out among the clerks at the brewery, which even the generalship +of Perkins was unable to mollify. Had Mrs. Thrale been an ordinary +woman she would not have jeopardised her own life and the life of her +child--her thirteenth--in her husband's interests. As it was, however, +she felt that the duty was imposed on her to settle the difficulties in +the counting-house, and she did so; but only after many sleepless nights +and the sacrifice of her child. "The men were reconciled," she wrote, +"and my danger accelerated their reconcilement." + +If Henry Thrale was deficient in the best characteristics of a business +man, his qualifications to shine socially can scarcely be regarded as +abundant. There were stories of his having been a gay dog in his youth, +but assuredly he and gaiety had long been strangers when he married his +wife, and upon no occasion afterwards could he be so described even by +the most indulgent of his friends; so that one rather inclines to the +belief that the dull dog must have been a dull puppy. We know what +his eldest daughter was, and we are convinced that the nature of that +priggish, dignified, and eminently disagreeable young lady was inherited +from her father. In Miss Thrale as a girl one feels that one is looking +at Henry Thrale as a boy. The only story that survives of those mythical +gay days with which he was accredited is that relating to the arrival +of the Gunnings to take London by storm. It was said that he and Murphy +thought to make these exquisite creatures the laughing-stock of the town +by introducing them to a vulgar hanger-on of Murphy, in the character of +a wealthy man of title and distinction. Possibly the two young men were +put up to play this disgraceful prank upon the Gunnings by some jealous +female associate; but however this may be, it not only failed most +ignominiously, it recoiled upon the jesters themselves, for Mrs. +Gunning, herself the sister of a nobleman, and destined to become the +mother-in-law of two dukes and the grandmother of two more--the parent +of a peeress in her own right, and an uncommonly shrewd Irishwoman into +the bargain--"smoaked," as the slang of the period had it, the trick, +and her footman bundled the trio into the street. + +The story may be true; but as both the Gunning girls were married in +1752, and Thrale did not meet Hester Lynch Salusbury till 1763, it was +an old story then, and it was not remembered against him except by the +Duchess of Hamilton. If it represents the standard of his adolescent +wildness, we cannot but think that his youth was less meteoric than his +wife believed it to be. At any rate, we do not know much about his early +life, but we do know a great deal about his latter years, and it is +impossible to believe that his nature underwent a radical change within +a year or two of his marriage. + +He became the host of a large number of the most notable people of that +brilliant period at which he lived, and we perceive from the copious +accounts that survive of the Streatham gatherings that he was greatly +respected by all his visitors. He never said anything that was worth +recording, and he never did anything memorable beyond stopping Johnson +when the latter was becoming more than usually offensive to his +fellow-guests. He had no ear for music any more than Johnson had, and it +does not appear that he cared any more for painting, although he became +a splendid patron of Sir Joshua Reynolds, whom he commissioned to paint +several portraits of his distinguished friends for the decoration of the +library at Streatham. To his munificence in this respect the world owes +its finest portraits of Goldsmith, Burke, Garrick, the painter himself, +and Mrs. Thrale. + +The debt which we feel we owe to Thrale on this account is, however, +somewhat discounted when we learn that this enthusiastic patron of +art never paid the painter for his work. He left the pictures and the +obligation to pay for them as a legacy to his widow--and to pay for +them at more than the current rate for each into the bargain. Sir Joshua +Reynolds was as good a man of business as Thrale was an indifferent +one. At the time of his painting the portraits his price for a +three-quarter-length picture was 35, but in the course of a year or two +he felt it necessary to charge 50 for the same size, and this was the +price which the unfortunate widow had to pay for her husband's pose as +the munificent patron of the Arts. + +Men of the stamp of Thrale usually have no vices. + +They are highly respected. If they had a vice or two they would be +beloved. He had a solitary failing, but it did not win for him the +affection of any one: it was gluttony. For years of his life he gave +himself up to the coarsest form of indulgence. He was not a gourmet: he +did not aim at the refinements of the table or at those daintinesses of +cuisine which in the days of intemperate eaters and drinkers proved so +fatally fascinating to men of many virtues; no, his was the vice of the +trough. He ate for the sake of eating, unmindful of the nature of the +dish so long as it was plentiful enough to keep him employed for an hour +or two. + +The dinner-table of the famous Streatham Park must have been a spectacle +for some of the philosophers who sat round it. We know what was the food +that Johnson's soul loved, and we know how he was accustomed to partake +of it. He rioted in pork, and in veal baked with raisins, and when he +sat down to some such dainty he fed like a wild animal. He used his +fingers as though they were claws, tearing the flesh from the bone +in his teeth, and swallowing it not wholly without sound. It is not +surprising to learn that his exertions caused the veins in his forehead +to swell and the beads of perspiration to drop from his scholarly brow, +nor can any one who has survived this account of his muscular feat at +the dinner-table reasonably be amazed to hear that when so engaged, he +devoted himself to the work before him to the exclusion of every other +interest in life. He was oblivious of anything that was going on around +him. He was deaf to any remark made by a neighbour, and for himself +articulation was suspended. Doubtless the feeble folk on whom he had +been trampling in the drawing-room felt that his peculiarities of +feeding, though revolting to the squeamish, were not without a bright +side. They had a chance of making a remark at such intervals without +being gored--"gored," it will be remembered, was the word employed by +Boswell in playful allusion to the effect of his argumentative powers. + +Thanks to the careful habits of some of the guests at this famous house +we know what fare was placed before the Gargantuan geniuses at one of +these dinners. Here is the _carte du jour_, "sufficient for twelve," as +the cookery book says: + +"First course, soups at head and foot, removed by fish and a saddle +of mutton; second course, a fowl they call galena at head and a capon +larger than some of our Irish turkeys at foot; third course, four +different sorts of ices, pine-apple, grape, raspberry and a fourth; in +each remove there were fourteen dishes." The world is indebted to an +Irish clergyman for these details. It will be seen that they did not +include much that could be sneered at as bordering on the kickshaw. +All was good solid English fare--just the sort to make the veins in a +gormandiser's forehead to swell and to induce the lethargy from which +Thrale suffered. He usually fell asleep after dinner; one day he failed +to awake, and he has not awakened since. + +Of course Johnson, being invariably in delicate health, was compelled to +put himself on an invalid's diet when at home. He gives us a sample of +a _diner maigre_ at Bolt Court. Feeling extremely ill, he wrote to Mrs. +Thrale that he could only take for dinner "skate, pudding, goose, and +green asparagus, and could have eaten more but was prudent." He adds, +"Pray for me, dear Madam,"--by no means an unnecessary injunction, some +people will think, when they become aware of the details of the meal of +an invalid within a year or two of seventy. + +It was after one of the Streatham dinners that Mrs. Thrale ventured to +say a word or two in favour of Garrick's talent for light gay poetry, +and as a specimen repeated his song in _Florizel and Perdita_, and dwelt +with peculiar pleasure on this line: + +_I'd smile with the simple and dine with the poor._ + +This is Boswell's account of the matter, and he adds that Johnson cried, +"Nay, my dear lady, this will never do. Poor David! Smile with the +simple! What folly is that? And who would feed with the poor that can +help it? No, no; let me smile with the wise and feed with the rich!" + +Quite so; beyond a doubt Johnson spoke from the bottom of his +heart--nay, from a deeper depth still. + +Boswell was amazed to find that Garrick's "sensibility" as a writer was +irritated when he related the story to him, and in Mrs. Thrale's copy of +Johnson she made a note--"How odd to go and tell the man!" + +It was not at all odd that Boswell, being a professional tale-bearer and +mischief-maker, should tell the man; but it is odd that Garrick should +be irritated, the fact being that the sally was directed against a +line which he did not write. What Garrick did write was something very +different. The verse, which was misquoted, runs thus: + + That giant Ambition we never can dread; + + Our roofs are too low for so lofty a head; + + Content and sweet Cheerfulness open our door, + + They smile with the simple and feed with the poor. + +Such a muddle as was made of the whole thing can only be attributed to +the solidity of the Streatham fare. + +It was inevitable that Thrale could not continue over-eating himself +with impunity. He was warned more than once by his doctors that he was +killing himself, and yet when he had his first attack every one was +shocked. He recovered temporarily, and all his friends implored him to +cultivate moderation at the dinner-table. A touch of humour is to be +found among the details of the sordid story, in his wife's begging +Johnson--Johnson of the swollen forehead and the tokens of his +submission to the primeval curse in the eating of his bread--to try to +reason the unhappy man out of his dreadful vice. After wiping from the +front of his coat the remains of the eighth peach which he had eaten +before breakfast, or the dregs of his nineteenth cup of tea from +his waistcoat, Johnson may have felt equal to the duty. He certainly +remonstrated with Thrale. It was all to no purpose, however; he had a +second attack of apoplexy in the spring of 1780, and we hear that he was +copiously "blooded." He recovered and went to Bath to recruit. It was +during this visit to Bath that the brewery was attacked by the Gordon +rioters. On returning to London he failed to induce his constituents to +remain faithful to him, and he continued eating voraciously for another +year. He began a week of gorging on April 1st, 1781. His wife implored +him to be more moderate, and Johnson said very wisely, "Sir, after the +denunciation of your physicians this morning, such eating is little +better than suicide." It was all to no purpose. He survived the gorge +of Sunday and Monday, but that of Tuesday was too much for him. He was +found by his daughter on the floor in a fit of apoplexy, and died the +next morning. + +Such was the man whose memory was outraged by the marriage of his +widow with Piozzi, an Italian musician, whose ability was so highly +appreciated that his earnings, even when he had lost his voice, amounted +to 1200 a year, a sum equal to close upon 2500 of our money. And yet +Johnson had the effrontery to suggest in that letter of his to Mrs. +Thrale, which we have quoted, that she would do well to live in England, +so that her money might be under her own eye! + +The truth is that Mrs. Thrale was in embarrassed circumstances when she +married Signor Piozzi. Her worthy husband left her an annuity of 2000, +which was to be reduced by 800 in the event of her marrying again; and +also 500 for her immediate expenses. Johnson wrote to her, making +her acquainted with this fact, in order, it would seem, to allay any +unworthy suspicion which she might entertain as to the extent of her +husband's generosity. But his last will and testament cannot have wholly +dispersed the doubt into which her experience of Mr. Thrale may have +led her. For a man who had been making from 16,000 to 20,000 a year +to leave his wife only 2000 a year, with a possibility of its being +reduced to 1200, would not strike any one as being generous to a point +of recklessness. When, however, it is remembered that Thrale's wife +plucked him and his business from the verge of bankruptcy more than +once, that she bore him fourteen children, and that she lived with him +for eighteen years, all question as to the generosity of his bequest to +her vanishes. But when, in addition, it is remembered that the lady's +fortune at her marriage to Thrale amounted to 10,000, all of which he +pocketed, and that later on she brought him another 500 a year, that +it was her mother's money, added to the sum which she herself collected +personally, which saved the brewery from collapse--once again at +the sacrifice of her infant--all question even of common fairness +disappears, and the meanness of the man stands revealed. + +[Illustration: 0083] + +It was through the exertions and by the business capacity of his widow +that the brewery was sold for 135,000. She was the only one of the +trustees who knew anything definite about the value of the property, +and had she not been on the spot, that astute Mr. Perkins could have so +worked the concern that he might have been able to buy it in a year or +two for the value of the building materials. And yet when she became +involved in a lawsuit that involved the paying of 7000, she had +difficulty in persuading her daughters' trustees to advance her the +money, although the security of the mortgage which she offered for +the accommodation would have satisfied any bankers. A wretch named +Crutchley, who was one of this precious band of incompetents, on the +completion of the deed bade her thank her daughters for keeping her out +of gaol. It is not recorded that the lady replied, though she certainly +might have done so, and with truth on her side, that if her daughters +had kept her out of a gaol she had kept her daughters out of a +workhouse. She would have done much better to have gone to her friends +the Barclays, whose bank had a hundred and fifty years ago as high a +reputation for probity combined with liberality as the same concern +enjoys to-day. + +Enough of the business side of Mrs. Thrale's second marriage has +been revealed to make it plain that Piozzi was not influenced by any +mercenary motives in the transaction. On the contrary, it was he who +came to her assistance when she was in an extremity, and by the prompt +loan of 1000 extricated her from her embarrassment, and left the next +day for Italy, without having any hope of marrying her. + +Johnson's verdict on Piozzi, communicated to Miss Seward, was that +he was an ugly dog, without particular skill in his profession. +Unfortunately for this musical enthusiast and devotee to beauty, Miss +Seward met Piozzi on his return from Italy with his wife. (His excellent +control of her money had resulted in every penny of the mortgage being +paid, and of the lodgment of 1500 to their credit in the bank). And +Miss Seward, writing from Lichfield--more of the irony of Fate--in 1787, +affirmed that the great Lichfield man "did not tell me the truth when +he asserted that Piozzi was an ugly dog, without particular skill in +his profession. M. Piozzi is a handsome man in middle life, with +gentle, pleasing, unaffected manners, and with very eminent skill in his +profession. Though he has not a powerful or fine-toned voice, he sings +with transcending grace and expression. I was charmed with his perfect +expression on his instrument. Surely the finest sensibilities must +vibrate through his frame, since they breathe so sweetly through his +song." From this verdict no person who was acquainted with Signor Piozzi +differed. Mrs. Thrale's marriage with Piozzi was as fortunate for her as +her first marriage was for Thrale. + + + + +A TRAGEDY IN THE HAYMARKET + +ABOUT half-past nine o'clock on the night of October 6th, 1769, a +tall, middle-aged gentleman named Joseph Baretti was walking up the +Hay-market. The street was probably as well lighted as any other in +London, and this is equivalent to saying that a foot passenger, by +keeping close to the windows of the shops and taking cross bearings of +the economically distributed oil lamps hung out at the corners of the +many lanes, might be able to avoid the deep channel of filth that slunk +along the margin of cobble stones. But just at this time the Haymarket +must have been especially well illuminated, for the Opera House was +in the act of discharging its audience, and quite a number of these +fashionable folk went home in their chairs, with link boys walking by +the side of the burly Irish chairmen, showing a flaring flame which left +behind it a long trail of suffocating smoke, and spluttered resin and +bitumen into the faces and upon the garments of all who were walking +within range of the illuminant. Then there was the little theatre higher +up the street, and its lamps were not yet extinguished; so that Mr. +Baretti may have felt that on the whole he was fortunate in the hour he +had chosen for his stroll to the coffee-house where he meant to sup. He +may have thought that he had a chance of coming across his friend Sir +Joshua Reynolds leaving one of the playhouses, and of being invited by +that hospitable gentleman to his house in Leicester Fields; or his still +more intimate friend Dr. Samuel Johnson, who would certainly insist on +carrying him off to the "Mitre," unless the great man were accompanied +by that little Scotch person, James Boswell, who usually wanted him +all to himself, after he had given people a chance of seeing him in the +company of his distinguished friend, and envying him his position of +intimacy--the same position of intimacy that exists between a Duke and +his doormat. Mr. Baretti was too short-sighted to have any chance of +recognising Sir Joshua Reynolds unless he chanced to be standing under +the lamp in the portico of the playhouse, but he felt that he would have +no trouble in recognising Dr. Johnson. The latter had characteristics +that appealed to other senses than the sense of seeing, and made the act +of recognition easy enough to his intimates. + +Mr. Baretti, however, passed along the dispersing crowd, and was soon in +the dim regions of Panton Street, where pedestrians were few. But before +he had turned down this street he found his way barred by a couple of +half-drunken women. His infirmity of sight prevented his being aware of +their presence until he was almost in the arms of one of them, and +the very second that he made his sudden stop she made a change in the +details of the accident that seemed imminent and threw herself into his +arms with a yell. + +The good man was staggered for a moment, but, recovering himself, he +flung her off with an expressive word or two in the Italian tongue. She +went limply back and, being adroitly avoided by her companion, gave a +circular stagger or two and fell into the gutter with a screech. + +Baretti was hurrying on when out of the darkness of Panton Street a big +man sprang, followed quickly by two others. The first seized him by the +right arm with the oath of a bully, the others tried to trip him up, +shouting that he had killed a lady. Baretti was a powerful man and +decidedly tough. He struck at the fellow who had closed with him, and +used his feet against the attack of the others with considerable effect. +He managed to free his arm, but before he could draw his sword he +was pulled backward and would have fallen upon his head if he had not +clutched the coat of the man from whom he had freed himself. There was a +pause of a few seconds, filled up by the wild street yell of the women. +The most aggressive of the three men leapt upon the unfortunate Baretti, +but before their bodies met, gave a guttural shriek, then a groan. He +staggered past, his fingers tearing like talons at his ribs; he whirled +twice round and, gasping, fell on his knees, motionless only for a few +seconds; his hands dropped limply from his side, and he pitched forward +on his head into the gutter. + +Baretti was standing, awaiting a further attack, with a knife in his +hand, when he was seized by some of the crowd. He offered no resistance. +He seemed to be so amazed at finding himself alive as to be incapable of +taking any further action. + +"He has killed the man--stabbed him with a dagger to the very heart!" +was the cry that came from those of the crowd who were kneeling beside +the wretch in the gutter. + +"And a woman--he had slain a woman at the outset. Hold him fast. None of +us are safe this night. Have a care for the dagger, friends!" + +A sufficiency of advice was given by the excited onlookers to the men +who had encircled Baretti--one of them was clinging to him with his arms +clasped around his body--until two of the Haymarket watch hurried up, +striking right and left with their staves after the wholesome manner of +the period, and so making a way for their approach through the crowd. + +"'Tis more than a street brawl--a man has been slain--some say a woman +also," a shopkeeper explained to them, having run bareheaded out of his +shop; his apprentice had just put up the last of the shutters. + +They had Baretti by the collar in a second, cautiously disarming him, +holding the weapon up to the nearest lamp. The blade was still wet with +blood. + +"A swinging matter this," one of them remarked. "I can swear to the +blood. No dagger, but a knife. What man walks the streets at night with +a naked knife unless slaughter is his intent?" + +"Friends, I was attacked by three bullies, and I defended myself--that +is all," said Baretti. He spoke English perfectly. + +"You will need to tell that to Sir John in the morning," said one of +the watchmen. "You are apprehended in the King's name. Where is the poor +victim?" + +"There must be some of the crowd who saw how I was attacked," said +Baretti. "They will testify that I acted in self-defence. Sirs, hear me +make an appeal to you. Out of your sense of justice--you will not see an +innocent man apprehended." + +"The knife--who carries a bare knife in the streets unless with intent?" +said a man. + +"'Twas my fruit-knife. I never go abroad without it. I eat my fruit like +a Christian, not like a pig or an Englishman," was the defence offered +by Baretti, who had now quite lost his temper and was speaking with his +accustomed bitterness. He usually sought to pass as an Englishman, +but he was now being arrested by the minions of the law as it was in +England. + +"Hear him! A pig of an Englishman. Those were his words! A foreign +hound. Frenchie, I'll be bound." + +"A spy--most like a Papist. He has the hanging brow of a born Papist." + +"He'll hang like a dog at Tyburn--he may be sure o' that." + +"'Tis the mercy o' Heaven that the rascal was caught red-handed! Sirs, +this may be the beginning of a dreadful massacring plot against the +lives of honest and peaceful people." + +The comments of a crowd of the period upon such an incident as the +stabbing of an Englishman by a foreigner in the streets of London can +easily be imagined. + +Even when Baretti was put into a hackney coach and driven off to Bow +Street the crowd doubtless remained talking in groups of the menace +to English freedom and true religion by the arrival of pestilent +foreigners, every man of them carrying a knife. It would be a sad +day for England when Jesuitical fruit-knives took the place of +good wholesome British bludgeons in the settlement of the ordinary +differences incidental to a Protestant people. + +It is certain that this was one of the comments of the disintegrating +crowd, and it is equally certain that Baretti commented pretty freely +to his custodians in the hackney coach upon the place occupied in +the comity of nations of that State, the social conditions of whose +metropolis made possible so gross a scandal as the arrest of a gentleman +and a scholar, solely by reason of his success in snatching his life out +of the talons of a ruffian and a bully. + +Mr. Baretti was a gentleman and a scholar whose name appears pretty +frequently in the annals of the eighteenth century, but seldom with any +great credit to himself. As a matter of fact, this dramatic episode of +the stabbing of the man in the Haymarket is the happiest with which +his name is associated. He made his most creditable appearance in the +chronicles of the period as the chief actor in this sordid drama. He +cuts a very poor figure indeed upon every other occasion when he appears +in the pages of his contemporaries, though they all meant to be kind to +him. + +He never could bear people to be kind to him, and certainly, so far as +he himself was concerned, it cannot be said that any blame attaches to +him for the persistence of his friends in this direction. He did all +that mortal man could do to discourage them, and if after the lapse of +a year or two he was still treated by some with cordiality or respect, +assuredly it was not owing to his display of any qualities that +justified their maintenance of such an attitude. + +Mr. Baretti was an eminently detestable scholar of many parts. He was as +detestable as he was learned--perhaps even more so. Learned men are +not invariably horrid, unless they are men of genius as well, and this +rarely happens. + +Baretti had no such excuse, though it must be acknowledged that his +capacity for being disagreeable almost amounted to genius. Such a +character as his is now and again met with in daily life. A man who +feels himself to be, in point of scholarly attainment, far above +the majority of men, and who sees inferiority occupying a place +of distinction while he remains neglected and, to his thinking, +unappreciated, is not an uncommon figure in learned or artistic circles. +Baretti was a disappointed man, and he showed himself to be such. He had +a grievance against the world for being constituted as it is. He had a +grievance against society. He had a grievance against his friends who +got on in the world. But the only people against whom he was really +malevolent were those who were signally and unaccountably kind to him. +He accepted their kindness, and then turned and rent them. + +Dr. Johnson met him when they were both working for the booksellers, +and when the great dictionary scheme was floated his co-operation was +welcomed. Johnson's success in life was largely due to his faculty for +discovering people who could be useful to him. It can easily be believed +that, knowing something of the scholarship of Baretti, he should +be delighted to avail himself of his help. Baretti had an intimate +knowledge of several languages and their literature; as a philologist +he was probably far superior to Johnson; and possibly Johnson knew this, +though he was doubtless too wise ever to acknowledge so much openly. +We do not hear that the relations between the two ever became strained +while the great work was in course of progress. Shortly after it was +completed Baretti returned to his native Italy, and began to reproach +Johnson for not writing to him more frequently. We have several examples +of the cheerfulness with which Johnson set about exculpating himself +from such reproaches. The letters which he wrote to him at Italy are +among the most natural that ever came from his pen. They are models of +the gossipy style which Johnson could assume without once deviating +from that dignity which so frequently became ponderous, suggesting the +dignity of the elephant rather than that of the lion. Walpole was +a master of the art of being gossipy without being dignified. But +Johnson's style was not flexible. We have not Baretti's letters +to Johnson, but the references made by the latter to some matters +communicated to him by his correspondent let us know something of how +Baretti was getting on in the land of his birth. He seems to have set +his heart upon obtaining some appointment in Italy, and his aspirations +included marriage. He was disappointed in both directions; and it would +be too much to expect that his temper was improved by these rebuffs. + +It may well be believed that he quarrelled his way through Italy. "I +have lately seen Mr. Stratico, Professor of Padua, who has told me +of your quarrel with an abbot of the Celestine Order, but had not the +particulars very ready in his memory," Johnson wrote to him at Milan. +Any one who could quarrel with an abbot of the Celestine Order would, we +fancy, be _capable de tout_, like the prophet Habakkuk, according to the +witty Frenchman. One is not disposed to be hard upon Professor Stratico +for his shortness of memory in regard to this particular quarrel; the +strain of remembering the details of all the quarrels of Mr. Baretti +would be too great for any man. + +Of course, Dr. Johnson gave him some excellent advice. It seems that +poor Baretti had been at first so well received on his return to Italy +that he became sanguine of success in all his enterprises, and when they +miscarried he wrote very bitterly to Johnson, who replied as follows: + +"I am sorry for your disappointment, with which you seem more touched +than I should expect a man of your resolution and experience to +have been, did I not know that general truths are seldom applied to +particular occasions; and that the fallacy of our selflove extends +itself as wide as our interests or affections. Every man believes that +mistresses are unfaithful and patrons capricious; but he excepts his +own mistress and his own patron. We have all learned that greatness is +negligent and contemptuous, and that in Courts life is often languished +away in ungratified expectation; but he that approaches greatness or +glitters in a Court, imagines that destiny has at last exempted him from +the common lot." + +It is doubtful if this excellent philosophy made the person to whom it +was addressed more amiable to his immediate entourage; nor is it likely +that he was soothed by the assurance that his "patron's weakness or +insensibility will finally do you little hurt, if he is not assisted by +your own passions." + +"Of your love," continued Johnson, "I know not the propriety; we can +estimate the power, but in love, as in every other passion of which hope +is the essence, we ought always to remember the uncertainty of events." +He then hastens to add that "love and marriage are different states. +Those who are to suffer the evils together, and to suffer often for +the sake of one another, soon lose that tenderness of look, and that +benevolence of mind which arose from the participation of unmingled +pleasure and success in amusement." + +The pleasant little cynical bark in the phrase "those that are to suffer +the evils together," as if it referred to love and marriage, is, Malone +thinks, not Johnson's, but Baretti's. It is suggested that Johnson +really wrote "those that are to suffer the evils _of life_ together," +and that Baretti in transcribing the letter for Boswell, purposely +omitted the words "_of life_." It would be quite like Baretti to do +this; for he would thereby work off part of his spite against Johnson +for having given him the advice, and he would have had his own sneer +against "love and marriage," the _fons et origo_ of his disappointment. + +But of Dr. Johnson's esteem for the attainments of Baretti there can be +no doubt. He thought that the book on Italy which he published on his +return to England was very entertaining, adding: "Sir, I know no man who +carries his head higher in conversation than Baretti. There are strong +powers in his mind. He has not, indeed, many hooks; but with what hooks +he has he grapples very forcibly." + +[Illustration: 0099] + +It may seem rather strange after this that Baretti was never admitted to +the membership of the celebrated club. He was intimate with nearly +all the original members, but the truth remained that he was not what +Johnson called a clubbable man: he had too many hooks, not too few. + +Such was the man who was brought before Sir John Fielding, the +magistrate at Bow Street, on the morning after the tragedy, charged with +murder; and then it was that he found the value of the friendships which +he had formed in England. The first person to hasten to his side in his +extremity was Oliver Goldsmith, the man whom he had so frequently made +the object of his sarcasm, whose peculiarities he had mimicked, not in +the playful manner of Garrick or Foote, but in his own spiteful style, +with the grim humour of the disappointed man. Goldsmith it was who +opened his purse for him and got a coach for him when he was +remanded until the next day, riding by his side to the place of his +incarceration. Goldsmith was by his side when the question of bail was +discussed before Lord Mansfield. For some reason which does not require +any particular explanation, it was not thought that Goldsmith as a +bailsman would appeal irresistibly to the authorities, but the names +of Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Edmund Burke, Mr. David Garrick, and Mr. H. +Fitzherbert were submitted to Lord Mansfield, and immediately accepted. +An amusing anecdote was current regarding the few days of Baretti's +incarceration. One morning he was visited by a teacher of languages, +who begged a trifling favour of him. This was merely a letter of +recommendation to Baretti's pupils, so that the applicant might have +a chance of taking them over "when you are hanged, sir." The fact that +this sympathetic visitor was allowed to depart without molestation makes +people doubt whether Baretti was so bad-tempered after all. He did not +assault the man. "You rascal!" he cried. "If I were not in my own room, +I would kick you downstairs directly." + +The trial was fixed for October 20th at the Old Bailey, and a few days +before this date a number of the prisoner's friends met together to +consult as to the line which should be taken for his defence. It seems +that they were not all agreed on some points; this was only to be +expected, considering what an array of wisdom was brought together upon +the occasion of these consultations, and considering also the course +which was adopted by Dr. Johnson, who thought that the interests of the +prisoner would be advanced by getting up an academical discussion with +Burke. Johnson and Burke were notorious rivals in conversation in those +days when conversation was regarded as an art, and men and women seemed +to have plenty of leisure to talk together for the sake of talking, +and to argue together for the sake of argument, and to be rude to one +another for the sake of wit. Boswell was for ever extolling Johnson +at the expense of Burke; and indeed, so far as one can gather from his +pages, Johnson was the ruder man. + +The example that Boswell gives of his own readiness in making Goldsmith +"shut up" when he questioned Johnson's superiority to Burke in +discussion is one of the best instances of the little Scotsman's +incapacity to perceive the drift of an argument. "Is he like Burke who +winds into a subject like a serpent?" asked Goldsmith. + +"But" (said I) "Dr. Johnson is the Hercules that strangled serpents in +his cradle." + +This repartee which Boswell gleefully records is about equal to the +reply made by one of the poets who was appealed to in the "Bab Ballads" +to say if he wrote "the lovely cracker mottoes my Elvira pulls at +supper." It will be remembered that the poet whose name rhymes with +"supper" replied: + + "'A fool is bent upon a twig, but wise men dread a bandit,' + + Which" (the earnest inquirer said) "I felt was very wise, + + but I didn't understand it." + +It was in regard to this consultation as to the best defence to be made +out for Baretti that Johnson admitted to have opposed Burke simply for +the sake of showing the rest of the company that he could get the better +of Burke in an argument. "Burke and I," he said, "should have been of +one opinion if we had had no audience." Such a confession! There was the +life of his friend Baretti trembling in the balance, and yet Johnson, +solely for the sake of "showing off," opposed the wisdom and ingenuity +Burke exercised to save from the gallows a man whom Johnson professed to +admire! + +But if we are to believe Boswell, Johnson cared very little whether his +friend was hanged or not. As for Boswell himself, he always detested +Baretti, and is reported to have expressed the earnest hope that the +man would be hanged. However, the "consultations" went merrily on, and +doubtless contributed in some measure to a satisfactory solution of the +vexed question as to whether Johnson or Burke was the more brilliant +talker. They formed a tolerably valid excuse for the uncorking of +several bottles, and perhaps these friends of Baretti felt that even +though he should die, yet the exchange of wit in the course of these +happy evenings would live for ever in the memory of those present, so +that after all, let the worst come to the worst, Baretti should have +little cause for complaint. + +It is reported that the prisoner, upon the occasion of his receiving a +visit from Johnson and Burke, cried: "What need a man fear who holds +two such hands?" It may here be mentioned, however, that although it +was asserted that Johnson and Murphy were responsible for the line +of defence adopted at the trial, yet in after years Baretti was most +indignant that it should be suggested that credit should be given to +any one but himself for his defence; and he ridiculed the notion that +Johnson or Burke or Murphy or even Boswell--himself an aspirant to the +profession of law in which he subsequently displayed a conspicuous +lack of distinction--had anything to do with the instruction either of +solicitors or barristers on his behalf. + +At any rate, the "consultations" came to an end, and the friends of the +accused awaited the trial with exemplary patience. Mr. Boswell seems +suddenly to have become the most sympathetic of the friends; for three +days before the event he took a journey to Tyburn to witness the hanging +of several men at that place, and though it is known that the spectacle +of a hanging never lost its charm for him, yet it is generous to assume +that upon this occasion he went to Tyburn in order to qualify himself +more fully for sympathising with Baretti, should the defence assigned to +him break down. + +Another ardent sympathiser was Mr. Thomas Davies the bookseller, a +gentleman whose chief distinction in the eyes of his contemporaries +consisted--if we are to believe one of the wittiest of his +associates--in the fact that he had an exceedingly pretty wife; +but whose claim to the gratitude of coming generations lies in the +circumstance of his having introduced Boswell to Johnson. Tom Davies +was terribly cut up at the thought of the possibility of Baretti's being +sentenced to be hanged. Boswell, on the day before the trial, after +telling Johnson how he had witnessed the executions at Tyburn, and +expressing his surprise that none of the wretches seemed to think +anything of the matter, mentioned that Foote, the actor, had shown him +a letter which he had received from Tom Davies, and in which the writer +affirmed that he had not had a wink of sleep owing to his anxiety in +respect of "this sad affair of Baretti," and begging Foote to suggest +some way by which he could be of service to the accused, adding that +should Mr. Foote be in need of anything in the pickle line, he could +strongly recommend him to an industrious young man who had lately set up +in that business. + +Strange to say, Johnson was not impressed with this marked evidence of +Mr. Davies' kind heart. + +"Ay, sir, here you have a specimen of human sympathy," he cried. "A +friend hanged and a cucumber pickled! We know not whether Baretti or the +pickle man has kept Davies from sleep; nor does he know himself." + +This was rather sweeping, but his dictum showed that he was rather a +poor analyser of human emotion. In the minds of the people of to-day who +read of Tom Davies' bad nights there is no manner of doubt whatever that +the sequence of his emotions was to be attributed to his intimacy with +the industrious young pickle maker. Tom had indulged rather too freely +in some of the specimens of his art presented to him by the pickler, and +the result was a melancholy night; and, being melancholy, he was led to +think of the most melancholy incident that had recently come under his +notice. When a man is full of mixed pickles he is liable to get a little +mixed, and so in the morning he attributed his miserable night to his +thoughts about Baretti, instead of knowing that his thoughts about +Baretti were the natural result of his miserable night. If he had been +acquainted with an industrious young onion merchant he might have passed +the night in tears. + +"As for his not sleeping," said Dr. Johnson, "sir, Tom Davies is a very +great man--Tom has been on the stage, and knows how to do those things." + +Boswell: "I have often blamed myself, sir, for not feeling for others as +sensibly as many say they do." Johnson: "Sir, don't be duped by them any +more. You will find those very feeling people are not very ready to do +you good. They pay you by feeling." Mr. Boswell thought that he would +do well to turn his friend from the subject under discussion, so he made +the apparently harmless remark that Foote had a great deal of humour and +that he had a singular talent of exhibiting character. But Johnson had +on him the mood not only of "the rugged Russian bear," but also of "the +armed rhinoceros and the Hyrcan tiger." + +"Sir, it is not a talent: it is a vice; it is what others abstain from," +he growled. + +"Did not he think of exhibiting you, sir?" inquired the tactful Mr. +Boswell, though he knew all about Foote and Johnson long before. + +"Sir, fear restrained him," said Johnson. "He knew I would have broken +his bones. I would have saved him the trouble of cutting off a leg: I +would not have left him a leg to cut off." + +This brutal reference to the fact that Foote's recent accident had +compelled him to have a leg amputated should surely have suggested +to his inquisitor that he had probably been paying a visit to an +industrious young pickle maker without Tom Davies' recommendation, or +that he had partaken of too generous a helping of his favourite veal, +baked with plums, and so that he would do well to leave him alone for a +while. But no, Mr. Boswell was not to be denied. + +"Pray, sir, is not Foote an infidel?" he inquired. But as he himself +had been dining with Foote the previous day, and as he possessed no more +delicacy than a polecat, he could easily have put the question to Foote +himself. + +But Johnson would not even give the man credit for his infidelity. + +"I do not know, sir, that the fellow is an infidel," he said; "but if he +is an infidel, he is an infidel as a dog is an infidel, that is to say, +he has never thought on the subject." + +In another second he was talking of Buchanan, a poet, whom he praised, +and of Shakespeare, another poet, whom he condemned, winding up by +saying that there were some very fine things in Dr. Young's _Night +Thoughts_. But the most remarkable of his deliverances on this rather +memorable evening had reference to Baretti's fate. After declaring that +if one of his friends had just been hanged he would eat his dinner +every bit as heartily as if his friend were still alive.--"Why, there's +Baretti, who is to be tried for his life to-morrow," he added; "friends +have risen up for him on every side; yet if he should be hanged, none of +them will eat a slice of plum pudding the less." Happily the accuracy of +this tender-hearted scholar's prediction had no chance of being put to +the test. Baretti was tried and acquitted. + +Boswell gives only a few lines to an account of the trial, and fails +to mention that the prisoner declined the privilege of being tried by +a jury one half of whom should be foreigners. "It took place," he said, +"at the awful Sessions House, emphatically called Justice Hall," and he +affirms that "never did such a constellation of genius enlighten the Old +Bailey." + +He mentions that Mr. Burke, Mr. Garrick, Mr. Beauclerk, and Dr. Johnson +gave evidence, the last-named being especially impressive, speaking in +a slow, deliberate, and distinct tone of voice. It seems strange +that Boswell, who was (nominally) a lawyer, when he wrote his life of +Johnson, should say nothing whatever respecting the line of defence +adopted by the friends of the prisoner upon this interesting occasion. +It might have been expected that he would dwell lovingly, as a lawyer +would certainly be pardoned for doing, upon the technical points +involved in the trial, even though he hated Baretti. For instance, it +would be interesting to learn why it was thought that the result of +the trial might mean the hanging of Baretti, when from the first it was +perfectly plain that he had acted in self-defence: not merely was he +protecting his purse, he had actually to fight for his life against an +acknowledged ruffian of the most contemptible type. In the present day +if a short-sighted man of letters--say Mr. Augustine Birrell--were to be +attacked in a dark street by three notorious scoundrels and to manage to +kill one of them by poking the ferrule end of an umbrella into his eye, +no one--not even a Conservative Attorney-General--would fancy that a +grand jury at the New Old Bailey would return a true bill against him +for the act, putting aside all question of his being found guilty and +sentenced to be hanged. And yet in Baretti's time swords were commonly +worn, and they were by no means toy weapons. Why should poor Tom Davies +have a sleepless night, owing (as he believed) to his apprehension that +his friend would be hanged in a day or two? Why was it necessary to +dazzle the "awful Sessions House" by such "a constellation of genius" as +had never before assembled in that "Hall of Justice"? + +Mr. Boswell might certainly have told us something of the actual scene +in the court, when he has devoted so much space to the ridiculous +dialogues between himself and Johnson, having more or less bearing upon +the case. The course he adopted is like laying a dinner-table with +four knives and forks and five wineglasses for every guest--in having a +constellation of genii in plush behind every chair, and then serving +a dinner of hashed mutton only. A great number of people believe that +whatever Boswell may have been, he was invariably accurate. But in this +case he does not even give a true account of the constellation of genius +to which he refers. He only says that Burke, Garrick, Beauclerk, +and Johnson were called as witnesses. He omits to say a word about +Goldsmith, who was something of a genius; or Reynolds, who was quite +a tolerable painter; or Fitzherbert, who had a wide reputation as a +politician; or Dr. Halifax, whose evidence carried certainly as much +weight as Johnson's. He does not even say a word respecting the evidence +which Johnson and the others were called on to give on behalf of +the prisoner at the bar. What is the good of telling us that the +constellation of genius had never been paralleled within the precincts +of the "emphatically called Justice Hall" if we are not made aware +of some of the flashes of their genius when they were put into the +witness-box? + +The truth is that Boswell had no sense of proportion any more than a +sense of the sublime and beautiful--or, for that matter, a sense of the +ridiculous. He was the Needy Knife Grinder--with an occasional axe of +his own--of the brilliant circle into which he crawled, holding on to +Johnson's skirts and half concealing himself beneath their capacious +flaps. He had constant stories suggested to him, but he failed to see +their possibilities. He was a knife grinder and nothing more; but at his +own trade he was admirable; he ground away patiently at his trivialities +respecting the man whom he never was within leagues of understanding, +and it is scarcely fair to reproach him for not throwing away his +grindstone, which he knew how to use, and taking to that of a diamond +cutter, which he was incapable of manipulating. But surely he might have +told us something more of the actual trial of Baretti instead of giving +us page after page leading up to the trial. + +From other sources we learn that what all the geniuses were called on to +testify to was the pacific character of Baretti, and this they were all +able to do in an emphatic manner. It would seem that it was assumed that +the prisoner, a short-sighted, middle-aged man of letters, was possessed +of all the dangerous qualities of a bloodthirsty brigand of his own +country--that he was a fierce and ungovernable desperado, who was in +the habit of prowling about the purlieus of the Haymarket to do to death +with a fruit-knife the peaceful citizens whom he might encounter. He was +a foreigner, and he had killed an Englishman with an outlandish weapon. +That seems to have been the reason there was for the apprehension, which +was very general in respect of the fate of Baretti, for it was upon +these points that his witnesses were most carefully examined. + +Goldsmith, Reynolds, and Garrick were very useful witnesses regarding +the knife. They affirmed that in carrying a fruit-knife the prisoner was +in no way departing from the recognised custom of his fellow-countrymen. +He, in common with them, was in the habit of eating a great deal of +fruit, so that the knife was a necessity with him. + +Johnson's evidence was as follows: + +"I have known Mr. Baretti a long time. He is a man of literature--a very +studious man--a man of great intelligence. He gets his living by study. +I have no reason to think he was ever disordered with liquor in his +life. A man that I have never known to be otherwise than peaceable and +a man that I take to be rather timorous. As to his eyesight, he does not +see me now, nor do I see him. I do not believe he would be capable of +assaulting anybody in the street without great provocation." + +It cannot be denied that the reference to Baretti's imperfect sight told +upon the jury, and uttered as the words were by Johnson in his dignified +way, they could scarcely fail to produce a profound effect upon the +court. + +Baretti was acquitted, and no one could presume to refer to him for the +rest of his life except as a quiet, inoffensive, frugivorous gentleman, +since these were the qualities with which he was endowed by a +constellation of geniuses on their oath. He was acquitted by the jury; +but the judge thought it well to say a few words to him before allowing +him to leave the dock, and the drift of his discourse amounted to a +severe censure upon his impetuosity, and the expression of a hope that +the inconvenience to which he was put upon this occasion would act as a +warning to him in future. + +Really one could hardly imagine that in those days, when every week Mr. +Boswell had a chance of going to such an entertainment at Tyburn as he +had attended forty-eight hours before the opening of the Sessions, the +taking of the life of a human being was regarded with such horror. One +cannot help recalling the remark made by Walpole a few years later, +that, owing to the severity of the laws, England had been turned into +one vast shambles; nor can one quite forget the particulars of the case +which was quoted as having an intimate bearing upon this contention--the +case in which a young wife whose husband had been impressed to serve +in His Majesty's Fleet, and who had consequently been left without +any means of support, had stolen a piece of bread to feed her starving +children, and had been hanged at Tyburn for the crime. + +Reading the judge's censure of Baretti, who had, in preventing +a contemptible ruffian from killing him, decreased by a unit the +criminality of London, the only conclusion that one can come to is that +the courts of law were very jealous of their precious prerogative to +kill. Looking at the matter in this light, the bombastic phrase of +Boswell does not seem so ridiculous after all; the Old Bailey had +certainly good reason to be regarded as the "awful Sessions House." But +we are not so fully convinced that it had any right to be referred to +as emphatically the Hall of Justice. In the Georgian Pageant the common +hangman played too conspicuous a part. + +But the unfortunate, if impetuous, Baretti left the court a free man, +and we cannot doubt that in the company of his friends who had stood by +him in his hour of trial he was a good deal harder upon the judge than +the judge had been upon him; and probably he was reproved in a grave and +dignified manner by Dr. Johnson, Sir Joshua Reynolds standing by with +his ear trumpet, fearful lest a single word of Johnson's wisdom should +escape him. Doubtless Mr. Garrick, the moment Johnson's back was turned, +gave an inimitable imitation of both Johnson and Baretti--perhaps of the +judge as well, and most likely the usher of the court. + +Later on, when the avaricious Reynolds had hastened back to his studio +in Leicester Fields to daub on canvas the figures of some of his sitters +at the extortionate price of thirty-five guineas for a three-quarter +length, he and Johnson put their heads together to devise what could be +done for Baretti. + +For about a year Baretti resumed his old way of living, working for the +booksellers and completing his volume of travel through Europe, by which +it is said he made 500. It would appear, however, that all his pupils +had transferred themselves to the enterprising gentleman who had +appealed to him at an inopportune moment for his recommendation, or to +some of his other brethren, for by the end of the year he was in needy +circumstances. Meantime he had been made by Sir Joshua Reynolds Honorary +Secretary for Foreign Correspondence to the Royal Academy, and then +Johnson recommended him to the husband of Mrs. Thrale as tutor to her +girls at Streatham. This was very kind to Baretti, but it was rather +hard on the Thrales. Apparently from the first day he went to Streatham +his attitude in regard to the Thrale family was one of spite and +malevolence; and there can be no doubt that Johnson bitterly regretted +his patronage of a man who seemed never to forgive any one who had done +him a good turn. + +The agreement made by him with the Thrales was that he should +practically be his own master, only residing at Streatham as a member of +the family with no fixed salary. He was as artful as an Irish cabman in +suggesting this "leave it to your honour" contract. He had heard on all +hands of the liberality of Mr. Thrale, and he knew that, in addition to +being provided with a luxurious home, he would receive presents from him +far in excess of what he could earn. He was extremely well treated for +the next three years, though he was for ever grumbling when he had +a moment's leisure from insulting the Thrales and their guests. Mrs. +Thrale said more in his favour than any one with whom he came in +contact. She wrote: "His lofty consciousness of his own superiority +which made him tenacious of every position, and drew him into a thousand +distresses, did not, I must own, ever disgust me, till he began to +exercise it against myself, and resolve to reign in our house by fairly +defying the mistress of it. Pride, however, though shocking enough, +is never despicable; but vanity, which he possessed too, in an eminent +degree, will sometimes make a man near sixty ridiculous." + +Assuredly Mrs. Thrale "let him down" very gently. Dr. Thomas Campbell, +a clergyman from Ireland, gives us a glimpse of Baretti's bearing at +Streatham. It is clear that Baretti was anxious to impress him with the +nature of his position in the house. "He told me he had several families +both in town and country with whom he could go at any time and spend a +month; he is at this time on these terms at Mr. Thrale's, and he knows +how to keep his ground. Talking, as we were at tea, of the magnitude +of the beer vessels, he said there was one thing at Mr. Thrale's house +still more extraordinary--his wife. She gulped the pill very prettily. +So much for Baretti!" wrote the clergyman in a very illuminating account +of his visit to Streatham. + +But not only did Mrs. Thrale bear with this detestable person for nearly +two more years, but she and her husband took him with them and Johnson +to Paris, where they lived in a magnificent way, the Thrales paying for +everything. It was in a letter to Frank Levet, his domestic apothecary, +that Johnson, writing from Paris, said: "I ran a race in the rain this +day, and beat Baretti. Baretti is a fine fellow." This is Johnson on +Baretti. Here is Baretti on Johnson; on a copy of the _Piozzi Letters_ +he wrote: "Johnson was often fond of saying silly things in strong +terms, and the silly madam"--meaning Mrs. Thrale--"never failed to echo +that beastly kind of wit." + +It was not, however, until an Italian tour, projected by Mr. Thrale, was +postponed, that Baretti became quite unendurable. He had been presented +by Mr. Thrale with 100 within a few months, and on the abandonment of +the longer tour he received another 100 by way of compensation for the +satisfaction he had been compelled to forgo in showing his countrymen +the position to which he had attained in England. This was another act +of generosity which he could not forgive. He became sullen and more +cantankerous than ever, and neglected his duties in an intolerable way. +In fact, he treated Streatham as if it were an hotel, turning up to give +Miss Thrale a lesson at the most inconvenient hours, and then devoting +the most of his time to poisoning the girl's mind against her mother. +Upon one occasion he expressed the hope to her that if her mother died +Mr. Thrale would marry Miss Whitbred, who would, he said, be a pretty +companion for her, not tyrannical and overbearing as he affirmed her own +mother was! Truly a nice remark for a young lady's tutor to make to her +under her mother's roof. + +The fact was, however--we have Baretti's own confession for it--that he +had been led to believe that after being with the Thrales for a year or +two, an annuity would be settled on him by the wealthy brewer, and he +grew impatient at his services to the family not obtaining recognition +in this way. It is extremely unlikely that Johnson ever even so much as +hinted at this annuity, though Baretti says his expectations were due to +what Johnson had told him; but it is certain that he had so exalted an +opinion of himself, he believed that after a year or two of desultory +teaching he should receive a handsome pension. And there the old story +of the car-driver who left the nomination of the fare to "his honour's +honour" was repeated. Baretti one morning packed up his bag and left +Streatham without a word of farewell. + +Johnson's account of his departure and his comments thereupon are worth +notice. He wrote to Boswell: + +"Baretti went away from Thrales in some whimsical fit of disgust or +ill-nature without taking any leave. It is well if he finds in any other +place as good an habitation and as many conveniences." + +On the whole it is likely that a good many of Baretti's friends felt +rather sorry than otherwise that the jury at the Old Bailey had taken +so merciful a view of his accident. If Johnson and Murphy were really +responsible for the line of defence which prevailed at the trial, one +can quite believe that the Thrales and a good many of their associates +bore them a secret grudge for their pains. + +In the year 1782 he was granted by the Government the pension which he +had failed to extort from the Thrales. It amounted to 80 per annum, +and we may take it for granted that he had nothing but the most copious +abuse for the Prime Minister who had only given him 80 when Sheridan +was receiving 200 and Johnson 300. He drew his pension for seven +years. + +Baretti's portrait, painted by Reynolds for the Streatham gallery, +fetched 31 10s., the smallest price of any in the whole collection, +on its dispersal, years after the principal actors in the scene in the +"awful Sessions House" had gone to another world. + + + + +THE FATAL GIFT + +WHEN Mr. Boswell had been snubbed, and very soundly snubbed too, by a +Duchess, one might fancy that his ambition was fully satisfied. But he +was possibly the most persevering of the order of _Pachydermata_ at +that time extant; and in the matter of snubs he had the appetite of a +leviathan. He was fired with the desire to be snubbed once more by Her +Grace--and he was. Without waiting to catch her eye, he raised his glass +and, bowing in her direction, said: + +"My Lady Duchess, I have the honour to drink Your Grace's good health." + +The Duchess did not allow her conversation with Dr. Johnson to be +interrupted by so flagrant a piece of politeness; she continued chatting +quite pleasantly to the great man, ignoring the little one. That was how +she had got on in life; and, indeed, a better epitome of the whole art +of getting on in life could scarcely be compiled even by the cynical +nobleman who wrote letters to his son instructing him in this and other +forms of progress--including the Rake's. + +Mr. Boswell, who, as usual, is the pitiless narrator of the incident, +records his satisfaction at having attained to the distinction of a snub +from the beautiful creature at whose table he was sitting, and we are, +as usual, deeply indebted to him for giving us an illuminating glimpse +of the Duchess of whom at one time all England and the greater part of +Ireland were talking. He also mentions that Her Grace made use of an +idiom by which her Irish upbringing revealed itself. If we had not Mr. +Boswell's account of his visit to Inveraray to refer to we might be +tempted to believe that Horace Walpole deviated into accuracy when he +attributed to the Duchess of Argyll, as well as her sister, the Countess +of Coventry, the brogue of a bog-trotter. It was only by her employment +of an idiom common to the south and west of Ireland and a few other +parts of the kingdom, that Her Grace made him know that she had not been +educated in England, or for that matter in Scotland, where doubtless Mr. +Boswell fondly believed the purest English in the world was spoken. + +[Illustration: 0121] + +Mr. Boswell faithfully records--sometimes with glee and occasionally +with pride--many snubs which he received in the course of a lifetime of +great pertinacity, and some that he omitted to note, his contemporaries +were obliging enough to record; but on none did he reflect with more +satisfaction than that, or those, which he suffered in the presence of +the Duchess of Argyll. + +It happened during that memorable tour to the Hebrides to which he lured +Johnson in order to show his countrymen how great was his intimacy with +the man who traduced them once in his Dictionary and daily in his life. +It was like Boswell to expect that he would impress the Scottish nation +by leading Johnson to view their fine prospects--he certainly was never +foolish enough to hope to impress Johnson by introducing the Scottish +nation to him. In due time, however, the exploiter and the exploited +found themselves in the neighbourhood of Inveraray, the Duke of Argyll's +Castle, and the stronghold of the Clan Campbell. + +It chanced that the head of the great family was in residence at this +time, and Mr. Boswell hastened to apprise him of the fact that the great +Dr. Johnson was at hand. He called at the Castle very artfully shortly +after the dinner hour, when he believed the Duchess and her daughter +would have retired to a drawing-room. He was successful in finding the +Duke still at the dinner-table, the ladies having retired. In the course +of the interview the Duke said: "Mr. Boswell, won't you have some tea?" +and Mr. Boswell, feeling sure that the Duchess could not go very far in +insulting him when other people were present, followed his host into +the drawing-room. "The Duke," he records, "announced my name, but the +Duchess, who was sitting with her daughter, Lady Betty Hamilton, and +some other ladies, took not the least notice of me. I should," he +continues, "have been mortified at being thus coldly received by a lady +of whom I, with the rest of the world, have always entertained a very +high admiration, had I not been consoled by the obliging attention of +the Duke." + +The Duke was, indeed, obliging enough to invite Johnson to dinner the +next day, and Mr. Boswell was included in the invitation. (So it is that +the nursery governess gets invited to the table in the great house +to which she is asked to bring the pretty children in her charge.) Of +course, Boswell belonged to a good family, and his father was a judge. +It was to a Duke of Argyll--not the one who was now so obliging--that +the Laird of Auchinleck brought his son, James Boswell, to be examined +in order to find out whether he should be put into the army or some +other profession. Still, he would never have been invited to Inveraray +at this time or any other unless he had had charge of Johnson. No one +was better aware of this fact than Boswell; but did he therefore decline +the invitation? Not he. Mr. Boswell saw an opportunity ahead of him. He +had more than once heard Johnson give an account of how he had behaved +when the King came upon him in the Royal Library; and probably he had +felt melancholy at the reflection that he himself had had no part or +lot in the incident. It was all Dr. Johnson and the King. But now he was +quick to perceive that when, in after years, people should speak with +bated breath of Dr. Johnson's visit to Inveraray they would be compelled +to say: "And Mr. Boswell, the son of auld Auchinleck, was there too." + +He knew very well that there were good reasons why Mr. Boswell could +not hope to be a _persona grata_ to the Duchess of Argyll. In the great +Douglas lawsuit the issue of which was of considerable importance to the +Duke of Hamilton, the son of Her Grace, the Boswells were on the side of +the opposition, and had been very active on this side into the bargain. +James Boswell himself narrowly escaped being committed for contempt +of court for publishing a novel founded on the Douglas cause and +anticipating in an impudent way the finding of the judges. Had the +difference been directly with the Duke of Argyll some years earlier, no +doubt every man in the Clan Campbell would have sharpened his skene when +it became known that a friend of an opponent of the MacCallein More +was coming, and have awaited his approach with complacency; but now the +great chief tossed Boswell his invitation when he was asking Johnson, +and Boswell jumped at it as a terrier jumps for a biscuit, and he +accompanied his friend to the Castle. + +The picture which he paints of his second snubbing is done in his best +manner. "I was in fine spirits," he wrote, "and though sensible that I +had the misfortune of not being in favour with the Duchess, I was not in +the least disconcerted, and offered Her Grace some of the dish which was +before me." Later on he drank Her Grace's health, although, he adds, "I +knew it was the rule of modern high life not to drink to anybody." Thus +he achieved the snub he sought; but he acknowledges that he thought +the Duchess rather too severe when she said: "I know nothing of Mr. +Boswell." On reflection, however, he received "that kind of consolation +which a man would feel who is strangled by a silken cord." + +It seems strange that no great painter has been inspired by the theme +and the scene. The days of "subject pictures" are, we are frequently +told, gone by. This may be so, generally speaking, but every one knows +that a "subject picture," if its "subject" lends itself in any measure +to the advertising of an article of commerce, will find a ready +purchaser, so fine a perception of the aspirations of art--practical +art--exists in England, and even in Scotland, in the present day. + +Now, are not the elements of success apparent to any one of imagination +in this picture of the party sitting round the table in the great hall +of Inveraray--Dr. Johnson chatting to the beautiful Duchess and her +daughter at one side, the Duke looking uncomfortable at the other, when +he sees Mr. Boswell on his feet with his glass in his hand bowing toward +Her Grace? No doubt Her Grace had acquainted His Grace with the attitude +she meant to assume in regard to Mi. Boswell, so that he was not +astonished--only uncomfortable--when Mr. Boswell fished for his snub. +Surely arrangements could be made between the art patron and the artist +to paint a name and a certain brand upon the bottle--a bottle must, of +course, be on the table; but if this is thought too realistic the name +could easily be put on the decanter--from which Mr. Boswell has just +replenished his glass! Why, the figure of Dr. Johnson alone should +make the picture a success--i.e. susceptible of being reproduced as an +effective poster in four printings. "Sir," said Dr. Johnson, "claret for +boys, port for men, but brandy for heroes." Yes, but whose brandy? There +is a hint for a great modern art patron--a twentieth-century art patron +is a man who loves art for what he can make out of it. + +Dr. Johnson was unmistakably the honoured guest this day at Inveraray; +and perhaps, while the lovely Duchess hung upon his words of wisdom, his +memory may have gone back to a day when he was not so well known, and +yet by some accident found himself in a room with the then Duchess of +Argyll. Upon that occasion he had thought it due to himself to be rude +to the great lady, in response to some fancied remissness on her +part. He had nothing to complain of now. The Duchess with whom he +was conversing on terms of perfect equality--if Her Grace made any +distinction between them it was, we may rest assured, only in a way that +would be flattering to his learning--was at the head of the peerage for +beauty, and there was no woman in the kingdom more honoured than she had +been. He may have been among the crowds who hung about the Mall in St. +James's Park twenty-two years before, waiting patiently until the two +lovely Miss Gunnings should come forth from their house in Westminster +to take the air. The Duchess of Argyll was the younger of the two +sisters. + +The story of the capture of the town by the pair of young Irish girls +has been frequently told, and never without the word _romantic_ being +applied to it. But really there was very little that can be called +romantic in the story of their success. There is far more of this +element in many of the marriages affecting the peerage in these +unromantic days. There is real romance in the story of a young duke's +crossing the Atlantic with a single introduction, but that to the +daughter of a millionaire with whom he falls madly in love and whom he +marries as soon as the lawyers can make out the settlements. There is +real romance in the idyll of the young marquis who is fortunate +enough to win the affection of an ordinary chorus girl; and every year +witnesses such-like alliances--they used to be called _msalliances_ +long ago. There have also been instances of the daughters of English +tradesmen marrying foreign nobles, whom they sometimes divorce as +satisfactorily as if they were the daughters of wealthy swindlers on +the other side of the Atlantic. In such cases there are portraits +and paragraphs in some of the newspapers, and then people forget that +anything unusual has happened. As a matter of fact, nothing unusual has +happened. + +In the romantic story of the Gunnings we have no elements of that +romance which takes the form of a _msalliance_. Two girls, the +granddaughters of one viscount and the nieces of another, came to London +with their parents one year, and early the next married peers--the elder +an earl, the younger a duke. Like thousands of other girls, they had no +money; but, unlike hundreds of other girls who marry into the peerage, +they were exceptionally good-looking. + +Where is there an element of romance in all this? The girls wedded men +in their own station in life, and, considering their good looks, +they should have done very much better for themselves. The duke was a +wretched _rou_, notable for his excesses even in the days when excess +was not usually regarded as noteworthy. He had ruined his constitution +before he was twenty, and he remained enfeebled until, in a year or +two, he made her a widow. The earl was a conceited, ill-mannered prig--a +solemn, contentious, and self-opinionated person who was deservedly +disliked in the town as well as the country. + +Not a very brilliant marriage either of these. With the modern chorus +girl the earl is on his knees at one side, and the gas man on the other. +But with the Miss Gunnings it was either one peer or another. They were +connected on their mother's side with at least two families of nobility, +and on their father's side with the spiritual aristocracy of some +generations back: they were collateral descendants of the great Peter +Gunning, Chancellor of Oxford and Bishop of Ely, and he was able to +trace his lineage back to the time of Henry VIII. From a brother of this +great man was directly descended the father of the two girls and also +Sir Robert Gunning, Baronet, who held such a high post in the diplomatic +service as Minister Plenipotentiary to Berlin, and afterwards to St. +Petersburg. Members of such families might marry into the highest order +of the peerage without the alliance being criticised as "romantic." The +girls did not do particularly well for themselves. They were by birth +entitled to the best, and by beauty to the best of the best. As it was, +the one only became the wife of a contemptible duke, the other of a +ridiculous earl. It may really be said that they threw themselves away. + +Of course, it was Walpole's gossip that is accountable for much of the +false impression which prevailed in respect of the Gunnings. From the +first he did his best to disparage them. He wrote to Mann that they were +penniless, and "scarce gentlewomen." He could not ignore the fact that +their mother was the Honourable Bridget Gunning; but, without knowing +anything of the matter, he undertook to write about the "inferior tap" +on their father's side. In every letter that he wrote at this time he +tried to throw ridicule upon them, alluding to them as if they were +nothing better than the barefooted colleens of an Irish mountain-side +who had come to London to seek their fortunes. As usual, he made all +his letters interesting to his correspondents by introducing the latest +stories respecting them; he may not have invented all of these, but +some undoubtedly bear the Strawberry Hill mark, and we know that Walpole +never suppressed a good tale simply because it possessed no grain of +truth. + +Now, the true story of the Gunnings can be ascertained without +any reference to Walpole's correspondence. Both girls were born in +England--the elder, Maria, in 1731, the younger in 1732. When they were +still young their father, a member of the English Bar, inherited his +brother's Irish property. It had once been described as a "tidy estate," +but it was now in a condition of great untidiness. In this respect it +did not differ materially from the great majority of estates in +Ireland. Ever since the last "settlement" the country had been in a +most unsettled condition, and no part of it was worse than the County +Roscommon, where Castle Coote, the residence of the Gunning family, was +situated. It might perhaps be going too far to say that the wilds of +Connaught were as bad as the wilds of Yorkshire at the same date, but +from all the information that can be gathered on the subject there does +not seem to have been very much to choose between Roscommon and the +wilder parts of Yorkshire. The peasantry were little better than +savages; the gentry were little worse. Few of the elements of civilized +life were to be found among the inhabitants. The nominal owners of the +land were content to receive tribute from their tenantry in the form of +the necessaries of life, for money as a standard of exchange was rarely +available. Even in the present day in many districts in the west +of Ireland cattle occupy the same place in the imagination of the +inhabitants as they do in Zululand. The Irish bride is bargained away +with so many cows; and for a man to say--as one did in the very county +of Roscommon the other day--that he never could see the difference of +two cows between one girl and another, may be reckoned somewhat cynical, +but it certainly is intelligible. + +But if rent was owing--and it usually was--and if it was not paid in the +form of geese, or eggs, or pork, or some other products of low farming +and laziness, it remained unpaid; for the landlord had no means of +enforcing his claims by any law except the law of the jungle. He might +muster his followers and plunder his debtors, and no doubt this system +of rent-collecting prevailed for several years after one of the many +"settlements" of the country had taken place, yet by intermarriage with +the natives, and a general assimilation to their condition of life by +the newcomers, these raids for rent became unpopular and impracticable. +The consequence was that the landlords--such as remained on their +estates--were living from hand to mouth. + +But if the fact that the King's writ failed to run in these parts was +of disadvantage to the landlords in one respect, it was of no +inconsiderable advantage to them in another; for it enabled them with +a light heart to contract debts in Dublin and in the chief towns. They +knew that the rascally process server, should he have the hardihood to +make any attempt to present them with the usual summons, would do so at +the risk of his life; and a knowledge of this fact made the "gentry" at +once reckless and lawless. The consequence was that Ireland was regarded +as no place for a man with any respect for his neighbours or for himself +to live in. It became the country of the agent and the squireen. + +It was to one of the worst parts of this country that John Gunning +brought his wife and four children--the eldest was eight years and +the youngest three months--and here he tried to support them off the +"estate." He might possibly have succeeded if his aspirations had been +humble and his property unencumbered. It so happened, however, that his +father had been the parent of sixteen children, and the estate was still +charged with the maintenance of ten of these. Thus hampered, Mr. Gunning +and the Honourable Bridget Gunning were compelled to adopt the mode of +life of the other gentry who were too poor to live out of Ireland, +and they allowed the education of their family to become a minor +consideration to that of feeding them. + +Mr. Gunning and his wife were undoubtedly the originals of the type of +Irish lady and gentleman to be found in so many novels and plays of +the latter part of the eighteenth and the first half of the nineteenth +centuries. He was the original "heavy father" who, with the addition +of a ridiculous nondescript brogue, was so effectively dealt with by +numerous writers until Thackeray took him in hand; and Mrs. Gunning was +the first of the tradition of Irish mothers with daughters to dispose of +by the aid of grand manners and a great deal of contriving. True to this +tradition, which originated with them, the lady was certainly the +head of the household--a sorry household it must have been at Castle +Coote--during the ten years that elapsed before the migration to +England. + +Mr. Gunning was a fine figure of a gentleman, a handsome, loquacious +person with a great sense of his own dignity and an everlasting +consciousness of the necessity to maintain it at something approximate +to its proper level, and, like other persons of the same stamp, never +particularly successful in the means employed to effect this object. It +is doubtful if a loud conversational style, with repeated references to +the brilliant past of his family and predictions as to the still more +brilliant future that would have been achieved by its representative but +for the outrageous fortune that flung him into the bogs of Roscommon, +produced a more vivid impression upon his associates in Ireland than it +would be likely to do among a more credulous community. In Ireland he +resembled the young gentleman who went to educate the French, but was +discouraged at the outset when he found that even the children in the +streets spoke better French than he did. Mr. Gunning could teach the +Irish squireens nothing in the way of boasting; and he soon found that +they were capable of giving him some valuable instruction as to the +acquiring of creditors and their subsequent evasion. Whatever their +educational deficiencies may have been, it must be admitted that they +had mastered these arts. Much as he despised his ancestral home, he +found, after repeated visits to Dublin, that his heart was, after all, +in Castle Coote, and that, for avoiding arrest for debt, there was no +place like home. + +The Honourable Mrs. Gunning must have become dreadfully tired of this +florid person and of the constant worry incidental to the control of +such a household as his must have been. Her life must have been spent +contriving how the recurrent crises could be averted, and so long as she +was content to remain in the seclusion of the Irish village her efforts +were successful. We do not hear that the bailiffs ever got so far as the +hall door of their ramshackle mansion; there was a bog very handy, and +the holes which served as a rudimentary system of natural drainage +were both deep and dark. The topography of the district was notoriously +puzzling to the officers from the Dublin courts. + +But with all her success in this direction one maybe pretty sure that +her life must have been very burthensome to the Honourable Mrs. Gunning. +She had social ambitions, as befitted a daughter of a noble house, and +on this account she never allowed herself to sink to the level of the +wives of the squireens around her, who were quite content with the rude +jollity of an Irish household--with the "lashings and leavings" to eat, +and with the use of tumblers instead of wineglasses at table. She was +the daughter of a peer, and she never forgot this fact; and here it must +be mentioned that, however culpably she may have neglected the education +of her children in some respects, she took care that they avoided the +provincial brogue of their Irish neighbours. + +Perhaps it was because Walpole knew nothing of the tradition of the +English settlers in Ireland that he referred in his letters to various +correspondents to the appalling brogue of both the Gunning girls; or +perhaps he, as usual, aimed only at making his correspondence more +amusing by this device. But every one who knows something of the +"settlements" is aware of the fact that the new-comers had such a +contempt for the native way of pronouncing English that they were most +strenuous in their efforts to hand down to their children the tradition +of pronunciation which they brought into the country. They were not +always so successful as they wished to be; but within our own times the +aspiration after a pure "English accent" is so great that even in the +National Schools the teachers, the larger number of whom bear Celtic +names, have been most industrious both in getting rid of their native +brogue and in compelling their pupils to do the same; and yet it is +certain that people have been much more tolerant in this respect in +Ireland during the past half-century than they were a hundred years +earlier. + +Of course, a scientific analysis of the pronunciation of the English +language by, say, a native of the wilds of Yorkshire and by a native of +the wilds of Connemara would reveal the fact that fewer corruptions of +the speech are habitual to the latter than to the former, the "brogue" +being far less corrupt than the "burr." It was not enough for the +settlers, however, that their children should speak English in Ireland +more correctly than their forefathers did in England; they insisted on +the maintenance of the English tradition of pronunciation, erroneous +though it might be. So that the suggestion that the daughters of the +Gunning family, who had never heard English spoken with the brogue of +the native Irish until they were eight or nine years of age, spoke the +tongue of the stage Irish peasant would seem quite ridiculous to any +one who had given even the smallest amount of study to the conditions +of speech prevailing in Ireland even in the present tolerant age, +when employment is not denied to any one speaking with the broadest of +brogues. Some years ago such an applicant would have had no chance of +a "billet"--unless, in a literal sense, to hew, with the alternative of +the drawing of water. + +The truth, then, is that the Gunning girls had practically neither more +nor less of that form of education to be acquired from the study of +books or "lessons" than the average young woman of their own day who had +been "neglected." Between the years 1750 and 1800 there were in England +hundreds of young ladies who were as highly educated as a junior-grade +lady clerk in the Post Office Department is to-day; but there were +also thousands who were as illiterate as the Gunnings without any one +thinking that it mattered much one way or another. + +[Illustration: 0139] + +And it really did not matter much that Maria Gunning spelt as vaguely as +did Shakespere, or Shakspere, or Shakespeare, or Shakspear, or whatever +he chose to write himself at the moment. Correctness of orthography is +absolutely necessary for any young lady who wishes to be a success in +the Postal Department, but Miss Gunning possessed some qualifications of +infinitely greater importance in the estimation of the world. She was of +good family and she was beautiful exceedingly. Moreover, she possessed +the supreme grace of naturalness--the supreme grace and that which +includes all other graces, which, like butterflies, hover over +womankind, but seldom descend in a bevy upon any one of the race. She +was as natural as a lily flower, and for the same reason. To be natural +il came to her by Nature, and that was how she won the admiration of +more people than the beauty of Helen of Troy brought to their death. She +was not wise. But had she been wise she would never have left Ireland. +She would have known that obscurity is the best friend that any young +woman so beautiful as she was could have. She would have remained in +Roscommon, and she would have been one of those women who are happy +because they have no story. But, of course, had she been wise she would +not have been natural, and so there her beauty goes by the board in a +moment. + +The Honourable Mrs. Gunning could not have been startled when +the knowledge came to her that she was the mother of two girls of +exceptional beauty. The same knowledge comes to every mother of two +girls in the world, though this knowledge is sometimes withheld from +the rest of the world; but even then the mother's faith is not +shaken--except in regard to the eyesight of the rest of the world. +Doubtless Mrs. Gunning thought much better of Ireland when she found +that her judgment on the beauty of her daughters was shared by all the +people who saw the girls. From the daily exclamation of wonder--the +exaggerated expressions of appreciation uttered by a fervent +peasantry--when the girls were seen in their own kitchen or on the +roadside, the mother's ambition must have received a fresh stimulus. And +given an ambitious mother, whose life has been one of contriving to do +things that seem out of her power to accomplish, the achievement of +her object is only a matter of time--provided that the father does not +become an obstruction. Mrs. Gunning was not extravagant in her longings. +Her Delectable Mountains were those which surround the City of Dublin. +Her social ambitions did not extend beyond "The Castle." + +When the eldest of her three daughters was scarcely nineteen the +aggregation of savings and credit--the latter predominant--seemed +sufficient to justify the expedition. A house was taken in a fashionable +street, close to the most splendid Mall in Europe, and furnished by some +credulous tradesmen, and the social campaign was begun by a parade of +the two girls and their mother. Alas! the young beauties attracted +only too much attention. The inquiries as to their style and title were +unfortunately not limited. In Dublin for generations the tradespeople +have been accustomed to take an intelligent and quite intelligible +interest in the aristocracy and beauty dwelling in their midst; and it +took only a few days for the report to go round that the exquisite young +ladies were the daughters of Mr. John Gunning, of Castle Coote. + +This information meant much more to some of the least desirable of +the inquirers than it did to the wealthy and well connected of the +population; and among the least desirable of all were some tradesmen who +for years had had decrees waiting to be executed against Mr. Gunning at +a more convenient place for such services than Castle Coote. The result +was that within a week the beauty of his daughters had made such a stir +in Dublin that bailiffs were in the house and Mr. Gunning was out of it. + +It is at this point in the history that the Troubadour unslings his +lute, feeling the potentialities of Romance in the air; and, given the +potentialities of Romance and the wandering minstrel, one may be sure +that the atmosphere will resound with Romance. We are told on such high +authority as is regarded quite satisfactory (by the Troubadour), that +the weeping of the mother and the beautiful girls under the coarse stare +of the bailiffs attracted the attention of a charming and sympathetic +young actress who was taking the air in the street, and that, as might +only be expected, she hastened to enter the house to offer consolation +to those who were in trouble--this being unquestionably the mission +which is most congenial to the spirit of the _soubrette_. On being at +once informed of all by the communicative mother--the Troubadour is not +such a fool as to lay down his lute to inquire if it was likely that a +lady who possessed her full share of Irish pride would open her heart +to a stranger and an actress--the young visitor showed her sympathy by +laying herself open to prosecution and imprisonment through helping in +a scheme to make away with all the valuables she could lay her hands on. +But she went still further, and invited the young ladies to stay at her +house so long as it suited them to do so. + +We are told that this young actress was George Ann Bellamy, but the +information comes from no better source than George Ann Bellamy herself, +and the statements of this young person, made when she was no longer +young or reputable, do not carry conviction to all hearers. Romance, +however, like youth, will not be denied, though the accuracy of an +actress may, and people have always been pleased to believe that Miss +Bellamy and Mr. Thomas Sheridan, the much-harassed lessee of the Smock +Alley Theatre in Dublin, were the means of obtaining for the Honourable +Mrs. Gunning and her daughters the invitation to the ball at the Castle +which resulted in the recognition of the girls' beauty by the great +world of fashion. The suggestion that their aunt, Miss Bourke, or +their uncle, Viscount Mayo, might have been quite as potent a factor in +solving the problem of how the invitation to a ball given by the Viceroy +to the people of Dublin came into the hands of the Miss Gunnings, may, +however, be worth a moment's consideration. + +At any rate, the success made by the girls upon this occasion was +immediate. Before a day had passed all Dublin and Dublin Castle were +talking of their beauty, and the splendid Mall was crowded with people +anxious to catch a glimpse of the lovely pair when they took their walks +abroad. Lady Caroline Petersham, the charming lady whose name figures +frequently in Walpole's correspondence--it will be remembered that she +was one of that delightful little supper party at Ranelagh which he +describes--was in the entourage of the Viceroy, and quickly perceived +the possibilities of social prestige accruing to the hostess who might +be the means of introducing them to St. James's. There a new face meant +a new sensation lasting sometimes well into a second month, and Lady +Caroline had her ambitions as a hostess. + +She was the Gunnings' best friend--assuming that social advancement is +an act of friendship--and it may safely be assumed that she was mainly +responsible for the extension of the area of the campaign entered on by +Mrs. Gunning, and that it was her influence which obtained for them the +passage to Chester in the Lord Lieutenant's yacht, and a bonus of 150 +charged, as so many other jobs were, "upon the Irish Establishment." +The "Irish Establishment" was the convenient Treasury out of which money +could be paid without the chance of unpleasant questions being asked in +Parliament respecting such disbursements. + +Of course, it is not to be believed that such success as the young girls +encompassed in Dublin was reached without a word or two of detraction +being heard in regard to their behaviour. Mrs. Delany, amiable as +a moral gossip, or perhaps, a gossipy moralist, wrote to her sister +respecting them: "All that you have heard of the Gunnings is true, +except their having a fortune, but I am afraid they have a greater want +than that, which is discretion." No doubt Mrs. Delany had heard certain +whispers of the girlish fun in which the elder of the sisters delighted; +but there has never been the smallest suggestion that her want of +discreetness ever approached an actual indiscretion. It may be assumed, +without doing an injustice to either of the girls, that their standard +of demeanour was not quite so elevated as that which the wife of Dean +Delany was disposed to regard as essential to be reached by any young +woman hoping to be thought well of by her pastors and masters. But the +steelyard measure was never meant to be applied to a high-spirited young +girl who has grown up among bogs and then finds herself the centre of +the most distinguished circle in the land, every person in which is +eagerly striving for the distinction of a word from her lips. Maria +Gunning may not have had much discretion, but she had enough to serve +her turn. She arrived in London with her sister, and no suggestion was +ever made--even by Walpole--that their mother had not taken enough care +of them. + +In London they at once found their place in the centre of the most +fashionable--the most notorious--set; but while we hear of the many +indiscreet things that were done by certain of their associates, nothing +worse is attributed to either of the girls than an Irish brogue or an +Irish idiom--perhaps a word or two that sounded unmusical to fastidious +ears. Walpole began by ridiculing them, and, as has already been noted, +sneering at their birth; but when he found they were becoming the +greatest social success that his long day had known, he thought it +prudent to trim his sails and refer to them more reasonably: they were +acquiring too many friends for it to be discreet for him to continue +inventing gossip respecting them. + +But what a triumph they achieved in town! Nothing had ever been known +like it in England, nor has anything approaching to it been known during +the century and a half that has elapsed since the beauty of these two +girls captured London. The opening of Parliament by the King in State +never attracted such crowds as thronged the Park when they walked in the +Mall. Never before had the guards to turn out at the Palace to disperse +the crowds who mobbed two young ladies who did not belong--except in a +distant way--to a Royal House. Upon one occasion the young Lord Clermont +and his friend were compelled to draw their swords to protect them from +the exuberant attentions of the crowd. "'Tis a warm day," wrote George +Selwyn to Lord Carlisle, "and some one proposes a stroll to Betty's +fruit shop; suddenly the cry is raised, 'The Gunnings are coming,' and +we all tumble out to gaze and to criticise." + +"The famous beauties are more talked of than the change in the +Ministry," wrote Walpole. "They make more noise than any one of their +predecessors since Helen of Troy; a crowd follows them wherever they +walk, and at Vauxhall they were driven away." + +This mobbing must have caused the girls much delightful inconvenience, +and one can see their mother acting the part--and overdoing it, after +the manner of her kind--of the distracted parent whose daughters have +just been restored to her arms. One can hear the grandiloquent thanks +of the father to the eligible young man with titles whose bravery +has protected his offspring--that would have been his word--from the +violence of the mob. The parents must have been very trying to the young +men in those days. But the mother showed herself to be rather more +than a match for one young man who hoped to win great fame as a +jocular fellow by playing a trick upon the family. Having heard of the +simplicity and credulousness of the girls, this gentleman, with another +of his kind, asked leave of Mrs. Gunning to bring to her house a certain +duke who was one of the greatest _partis_ of the day. On her complying, +he hired a common man, and, dressing him splendidly, conveyed him in +a coach to the Gunnings' house and presented him to the family as +the duke. But the man knew as little of the matter as did Walpole; he +assumed that she was nothing more than the adventurous wife of an Irish +squireen. He soon found out that he had made a mistake. Mrs. Gunning +rang the bell, and ordered the footman to turn the visitors out of +the house. But the family were soon consoled for this incident of the +impostor duke by the arrival of a real one, to say nothing of another +consolation prize in the form of an earl. In the meantime, however, +their popularity-had been increasing rather than diminishing. As a +matter of fact, although beauty may be reproached for being only skin +deep, it is very tenacious of life. A reputation for beauty is perhaps +the most enduring of all forms of notoriety. The renown that attaches to +the man who has painted a great picture, or to one who has made a great +scientific discovery, or to one who has been an eminent churchman or a +distinguished statesman, is, in point of popularity and longevity, quite +insignificant in comparison with that which is associated with the +name of a very beautiful woman. The crowds still surrounded the Miss +Gunnings, and the visit which they paid by command to King George II +gave them a position in the world of fashion that was consolidated by +the report of the charming _naivete_ of the reply made by Maria when the +King inquired if they had seen all the sights of London and if there +was any in particular which they would like to be shown. "Oh, I should +dearly like to see a coronation!" the girl is said to have cried. And as +that was just the sight for which the people of England were most eager, +she was acclaimed as their mouthpiece. + +So they progressed in the career that had been laid out for them. Duels +were fought about them, and bets were made about them and their future. +For nearly a year there was no topic of the first order save only the +Progress of Beauty. The Duke had come boldly forward. He was a double +duke--his titles were Hamilton and Brandon--and he had sounded such +depths of depravity that he was possibly sincere in his desire to +convince the world that his taste in one direction had not become +depraved. Elizabeth Gunning may have accepted his service from a hope of +being the means of reforming him. But even if she were not to succeed in +doing so, her mother would have reminded her that her failure would not +make her the less a duchess. It is open, however, for one to believe +that this girl cared something for the man and was anxious to amend his +life. + +Then we hear of her being with him at Lord Chesterfield's ball given +at the opening of his new mansion, her fancy dress being that of a +Quakeress. Three days later the world in which they lived awoke to learn +the astounding news that the Duke of Hamilton and Brandon had married +Elizabeth Gunning the previous night. + +Here was romance beyond a precedent; and Walpole romanced about it +as usual. In his account of the nuptials he succeeds in making more +misstatements than one would believe it possible even for such a worker +in the art to encompass in half a dozen lines. "When her mother and +sister were at Bedford House," he wrote to Mann, "a sudden ardour, +either of wine or love, seized upon him (the Duke); a parson was +promptly sent for, but on arriving, refused to officiate without the +important essentials of licence or ring. The Duke swore and talked of +calling in the Archbishop. Finally the parson's scruples gave way, the +licence was overlooked, and the lack of the traditional gold ring was +supplied by the ring of a bed curtain!" + +This is very amusing, but it is not history. It is a clumsy fiction, +unworthy of the resources of the inventor. Sir Horace Mann must have +felt that his friend had a poor opinion of his intelligence if he meant +him to accept the assurance that the household of the Gunnings and the +fingers of His Grace were incapable of yielding to the fastidious parson +a better substitute for the traditional gold ring than the thing he +introduced. The facts of the incident were quite romantic enough without +the need for Walpole's embellishments. It was Valentine's Day, and what +more likely than that the suggestion should be made by the ardent +lover that so appropriate a date for a wedding would not come round for +another year! To suggest difficulties--impossibility--would only be to +spur him on to show that he was a true lover. However this may be, it +has long ago been proved that the midnight marriage took place in due +form at the Curzon Street Chapel in the presence of several witnesses. + +And then Walpole went on to say that the wedding of Lord Coventry and +the elder sister took place at the same time. It so happened, however, +that a fortnight elapsed between the two ceremonies, and in the case of +the second, the ceremony took place in the full light of day. + +The subsequent history of the two ladies is not without a note of +melancholy. The elder, pursued to the end by the malevolent slanders +of the man with the leer of the satyr perpetually on his face, died of +consumption after eight years of wedded life. The younger became a widow +two years earlier, and after being wooed by the Duke of Bridgewater, +whom she refused, sending him to his canal for consolation, married +Colonel Campbell, who in 1770 became the Fifth Duke of Argyll. Six +years later she was created a peeress in her own right, her title +being Baroness Hamilton of Hameldon in Leicestershire. In 1778 she +was appointed Mistress of the Robes. She attained to the additional +distinction of making the good Queen jealous, so that Her Majesty upon +one occasion overlooked her in favour of Lady Egremont. The Duchess at +once resigned, and only with difficulty was persuaded to withdraw her +resignation. She died in 1790. + + + + +THE FTE-CHAMPTRE + +NO one knows to-day with whom the idea of having an English +_fte-champtre_ at The Oaks upon the occasion of the marriage of the +young Lord Stanley to Lady Betty Hamilton originated. The secret +was well kept; and it can be easily understood that in case of this +innovation proving a fiasco, no one would show any particular desire to +accept the responsibility of having started the idea. But turning out as +it did, a great success, it might have been expected that many notable +persons would lay claim to be regarded as its parents. A considerable +number of distinguished people had something to do with it, and any +one of them had certainly sufficient imagination, backed up by an +acquaintance with some of the exquisite pieces of MM. Watteau and +Fragonard, to suggest the possibility of perfecting such an enterprise +even in an English June. It was the most diligent letter-writer of that +age of letter-writing who had referred to the "summer setting in with +its customary severity," so that the trifling of the month of June +with the assumption of the poets who have rhymed of its sunshine with +rapture, was not an experience that was reserved for the century that +followed. But in spite of this, the idea of a _fte-champtre_, after +the most approved French traditions, in an English demesne found favour +in the eyes of Lord Stanley and his advisers, and the latter were +determined that, whatever price might have to be paid for it, they would +not run the chance of being blamed for carrying it out in a niggardly +spirit. + +The young Lord Stanley had as many advisers as any young nobleman with +a large immediate allowance and prospects of a splendid inheritance may +hope to secure. There was his _fiance's_ mother, now the Duchess of +Argyll, who was never disposed to frown down an undertaking that would +place a member of one of her families in the forefront of the battle of +the beauties for the most desirable _parti_ of the year. + +[Illustration: 0155] + +The Duchess had both taste and imagination, so that people called her an +Irishwoman, although she was born in England. Then there was Mr. George +Selwyn, who said witty things occasionally and never missed a hanging. +He was fully qualified to prompt a wealthy companion as to the best +means to become notorious for a day. There was also young Mr. Conway, +the gentleman who originated the diverting spectacle when Mrs. Baddeley +and Mrs. Abington were escorted to the Pantheon. Any one of these, to +say nothing of Lady Betty herself, who had some love for display, might +have been inclined to trust an English June so far as to believe an _al +fresco_ entertainment on a splendid scale quite possible. + +On the whole, however, one is inclined to believe that it was Colonel +Burgoyne who was responsible for the whole scheme at The Oaks. In +addition to having become Lord Stanley's uncle by running away with +his father's sister, he was a budding dramatist, and as such must have +perceived his opportunity for exploiting himself at the expense of +some one else--the dream of every budding dramatist. There is every +likelihood that it was this highly accomplished and successful +"gentleman-adventurer" who brought Lord Stanley up to the point of +embarking upon his design for an entertainment such as had never +been seen in England before--an entertainment that should include the +production of a masque devised by Colonel Burgoyne and entitled _The +Maid of The Oaks_. The fte came off, and it was pronounced the most +brilliant success of the year 1774. + +Lord Stanley was a very interesting young man; that is to say, he was +a young man in whom no inconsiderable number of persons--mainly of the +opposite sex--were greatly interested. Of this fact he seems to have +been fully aware. A good many people--mainly of the opposite sex--felt +very strongly on the subject of his marrying: it was quite time that he +married, they said. His grandfather, the Earl of Derby, was eighty-four +years of age, and it would be absurd to believe that he could live much +longer. Lord Stanley being his heir, it was agreed that it was the young +man's duty not to procrastinate in the matter of marriage. It is always +understood that a patriarchal nobleman sings "_Nunc dimittis_" when he +holds in his arms the second in direct succession to the title, and this +happy consummation could, in the case of the aged Lord Derby, only be +realised by the marriage of Lord Stanley. + +He was small in stature, and extremely plain of countenance; still +this did not prevent his name from being coupled with that of several +notable--but not too notable--young women of his acquaintance. But as +it was well known that he was greatly interested in the stage, it +was thought that, perhaps, he might not be so complaisant as his best +friends hoped to find him in regard to marrying. An ardent interest in +the progress of the drama, especially in its lighter forms, has been +known to turn a young man's attention from marriage, when it does not do +what is far worse--turn his attention to it with too great zest. Before +long, however, it became apparent that his lordship recognised in what +direction his duty lay. There was a young lady connected with the Ducal +House of Bedford--a niece of that old Duchess who played so conspicuous +a part in the social and political history of the middle of the +eighteenth century--and to her Lord Stanley became devoted. But just +when every one assumed that the matter was settled, no one thinking +it possible that the young lady would be mad enough to refuse such a +_parti_, the news came that she had done so; and before people had +done discussing how very eccentric were the Bedford connections, +the announcement was made that Lord Stanley was to marry Lady Betty +Hamilton, the beautiful daughter of a beautiful mother, the Duchess of +Argyll. + +There is in existence a letter written by the Duchess to Sir William +Hamilton, in which she hints that Lord Stanley was an old suitor for the +hand of her daughter. "Lady Betty might have taken the name of Stanley +long ago if she had chose it," she wrote, adding: "A very sincere +attachment on his side has at last produced the same on hers." This +being so, it would perhaps be unsafe to assume that Lord Stanley +proposed to Lady Betty out of pique at having been rejected by the other +lady, though one might be disposed to take this view of the engagement. + +The alternative view is that Lady Betty had been advised by her +accomplished mother that if she played her cards well there was no +reason why she should not so attract Lord Stanley as to lead him to be a +suitor for her hand, and that the girl at last came to see that the +idea was worth her consideration. Her portrait, painted by Sir Joshua +Reynolds in the year of her marriage, shows her to have been a graceful, +girlish young creature; but her beauty could never have been comparable +with that of her mother at the same age, or with that of her aunt, Lady +Coventry, whom it is certain she closely resembled in character. Her +mother, in her letter to Sir William Hamilton, apologises in a way +for her liveliness, assuring him that such a disposition was not +incompatible with serious thought upon occasions; and this gives us +a hint that the reputation for vivacity which she always enjoyed was +closely akin to that which made the life of Lady Coventry so very +serious. + +This was the young lady in whose honour the first English _fte +champtre_ was organised. To be more exact, or to get more into touch +with the view of the Derby family, perhaps one should say that the +_fte_ was set on foot in consideration of the honour the young lady +was doing herself in becoming a member of the great house of +Stanley. Different people look at a question of honour from different +standpoints. Probably Colonel Burgoyne, although a member of the Derby +family by marriage, left honour out of the question altogether, and only +thought of his masque being produced at his nephew's expense. + +And produced the masque was, and on a scale as expensive as the most +ambitious author could desire. It was described, with comments, by all +the great letter-writers of the time. Walpole has his leer and his sneer +at its expense (literally). It was to cost no less than 5000, he said, +and he ventured to suppose that in order to account for this enormous +outlay Lord Stanley had bought up all the orange trees near London--no +particular extravagance one would fancy--and that the hay-cocks would be +of straw-coloured riband. George Selwyn thought it far from diverting. +The Dowager Lady Gower affirmed that "all the world was there," only she +makes an exception of her relations the Bedfords--she called them "the +Bloomsbury lot"--and said that the Duchess would not let any of them go +because Her Grace thought that Lord Stanley should have taken his recent +rejection by Her Grace's niece more to heart. Lady Betty's stepfather, +the Duke of Argyll, said that the whole day was so long and fatiguing +that only Lady Betty could have stood it all. + +But did Lady Betty stand it all? It was rumoured in the best-informed +circles that she had broken off the match the next day; and when one +becomes acquainted with the programme of the day's doings one cannot but +acknowledge that the rumour was plausible. She probably made an attempt +in this direction; but on her fianc's promising never to repeat the +offence, withdrew her resolution. + +The famous brothers Adam, whose genius was equally ready to build +an Adelphi or to design a fanlight, had been commissioned to plan an +entertainment on the most approved French models and to carry it out on +the noblest scale, taking care, of course, that the central idea should +be the masque of _The Maid of The Oaks_, and these large-minded artists +accepted the order without demur. The pseudo-classical feeling entered, +largely through the influence of the Adams, into every form of art at +this period, though the famous brothers cannot be accused of originating +the movement. Sir Joshua Reynolds painted his most charming ladies in +the costume of Greeks, and Angelica Kauffmann depicted many of her early +English episodes with the personages clad in togas which seemed greatly +beyond their control. But for that matter every battle piece up to +the date of Benjamin West's "Death of Wolfe" showed the combatants in +classical armour; and Dr. Johnson was more than usually loud in his +protests against the suggestion that a sculptor should put his statues +of modern men into modern clothing. + +But the Adams were wise enough to refrain from issuing any order as to +the costume to be worn by the shepherds and shepherdesses who were +to roam the mead at The Oaks, Epsom, upon the occasion of this _fte +champtre_; and they were also wise enough to distrust the constancy of +an English June. The result was (1) a charming medley of costume, though +the pseudo-pastoral peasants, farmers, gardeners, and shepherds were in +the majority, and (2) the most interesting part of the entertainments +took place indoors, the octagonal hall lending itself nobly--when +improved by Messrs. Adam--to the show. The "transparencies" which +constituted so important a part of the ordinary birthday celebrations +of the time, took the form of painted windows, and, later, of a +device showing two of the conventional torches of Hymen in full blaze, +supporting a shield with the Oak of the Hamiltons' crest and the usual +"gules." + +This design occupied the place of the "set piece" which winds up a +modern display of fireworks and sets the band playing "God save the +King." It could not have been brought on until the morning sunlight +was flooding the landscape outside; for supper was not served until +half-past eleven, and the company had to witness the representation of +an intolerably long masque--the second of the day--after supper, with a +procession of Druids, fauns, cupids, and nymphs, all in suitable, but it +is to be hoped not traditional, costume. + +The entertainment began quite early in the afternoon, when there was +a long procession of shepherds and shepherdesses through the lanes to +where a pastoral play was produced and syllabub drunk under the trees. +But this was only an _hors d'ouvre_; it was not Colonel Burgoyne's +masterpiece. This was not produced in the open air. Only when further +refreshments had been served and evening was closing in did the guests, +who had been sauntering through the sylvan scenes, repair to the great +hall, which they found superbly decorated and, in fact, remodelled, for +colonnades after the type of those in the pictures of Claude had been +built around the great ballroom, the shafts being festooned with roses, +and the drapery of crimson satin with heavy gold fringes. There were +not enough windows to make excuses for so much drapery, but this was no +insuperable obstacle to the artful designers; they so disposed of the +material as to make it appear that it was the legitimate hanging for six +windows. + +For the procession through the colonnades the young host changed his +costume and his fiance changed hers. He had appeared as Rubens and she +as Rubens' wife, from the well-known picture. But now she was dressed as +Iphigenia. They led the first minuet before supper, and it was thought +that they looked very fine. No one who has seen the two pictures of the +scene, for which Zucchi was commissioned, can question this judgment. +Lady Betty's portrait in one of these panels makes her even more +beautiful than she appears on Sir Joshua's canvas. + +With a display of fireworks of a detonating and discomposing type--the +explosion, it was said, affected the nerves of nearly all the +guests--and the illumination of the "transparency" already alluded to, +this memorable fte came to no premature conclusion. Every one was bored +to death by so much festivity coming all at once. The idea of twelve +hours of masques and minuets is enough to make one's blood run cold. Its +realisation may have had this effect upon the heroine of the day, hence +the rumour that she found she had had enough of the Derby family to +last her for the rest of her life without marrying the young heir. +Unfortunately, however, if this was the case, she failed to justify the +accuracy of the report; and she was married to Lord Stanley on the 23rd +of the same month. + +The union of Maria Gunning with the Earl of Coventry was a miserable +one, but this of her niece and Lord Stanley was infinitely worse. Lady +Betty soon found out that she had made a mistake in marrying a man so +incapable of appreciating her charm of manner as was Lord Stanley. The +likelihood is that if she had married any other man she would have made +the same discovery. The vivacity for which her mother apologised to Sir +William Hamilton was, after her marriage, much more apparent than the +thoughtfulness which the Duchess assured her correspondent was one of +her daughter's traits. She showed herself to be appallingly vivacious +upon more than one occasion. Just at that time there was a vivacious +"set" in Lady Betty's world, and every member of it seemed striving for +leadership. Few of the ladies knew exactly where the border line lay +between vivacity and indiscretion. If Lady Betty was one of the better +informed on this delicate question of delimitation, all that can be said +is that she overstepped the line upon several occasions. It is not to be +thought that her lightness ever bordered into actual vice, but it rarely +fell short of being indiscreet. + +She was always being talked about--always having curious escapades, none +of them quite compromising, but all calculated to make the judicious +grieve. But it is one thing to be subjected to the censure of the +judicious and quite another to come before a judicial authority, and it +is pretty certain that if Lady Derby--her husband succeeded to the title +two years after his marriage--had incriminated herself, she would have +been forced to defend a divorce suit. + +It is, however, likewise certain that for some time she kept hovering +like a butterfly about the portals of the Court, and a good deal of the +bloom was blown off her wings by the breath of rumour. She had accepted +the devotion of the Duke of Dorset, and, considering the number of +eyes that were upon her and the devotion of His Grace, this was a very +dangerous thing to do. They were constantly seen together and at all +hours. This was in the second year of her marriage, but even in +the first her desire to achieve notoriety by some means made itself +apparent. But her escapade that was most talked about was really not +worthy of the gossip of a Gower. She was at a ball at the house of Mrs. +Onslow in St. James's Square, and her chair not arriving in good time to +take her back to Grosvenor Square, it was suggested by Lord Lindsay and +Mr. Storer that they should borrow Mrs. Onslow's chair and carry her +between them to her home. She agreed to this gallant proposal, and off +they set together. The young men bore her to her very door in spite of +the fact that they had met her own chair soon after they had left Mrs. +Onslow's porch. + +There was surely not much of an escapade in this transaction. The truth +was probably that the chair did not arrive owing to the condition of the +bearers, and when the young gentlemen met it they refused to jeopardise +the safety of the lady by transferring her from Mrs. Onslow's chair to +her own. + +Rumour, however, was only too anxious to put the worst construction upon +every act of the merry Countess, and it was doubtless because of this, +and of her own knowledge of her daughter's thoughtlessness, that +the Duchess of Argyll appeared upon the scene and endeavoured by her +presence and advice to avert the catastrophe that seemed imminent. +The Duchess insisted on accompanying her to every entertainment, and +succeeded in keeping a watchful eye on her, though the Duke, who was +at Inveraray, and was doubtless tired of hearing of the vivacity of +his stepdaughter, wrote rather peremptorily for Her Grace to return +to Scotland. She did not obey the summons, the fact being that she was +devoted to this daughter of hers, who must have daily reminded her of +her own sister Maria, to whom she had been so deeply attached. * + + * It was said that she had refused the offer of the Duke of + Bridgewater, because of his suggestion that she should break + off all intercourse with Lady Coventry. + +Seeing, however, that she could not continue to look after this lively +young matron, and being well aware of the fact that Lord Derby would +never consent to live with her again, the Duchess could do no more than +condone the separation which was inevitable. The deed was drawn up in +1779, five years after Lady Betty had been so inauspiciously bored by +the _fte champtre_. + +[Illustration: 0171] + +In the meantime there was a good deal of talk about the Earl of Derby +himself. A young nobleman who takes a lively, or even a grave, interest +in the personnel of the theatre is occasionally made the subject of +vulgar gossip. Lord Derby had a reputation as an amateur actor, and +he seemed to think that it would be increased by association with +professional actresses. It is doubtful if he was justified in his views +on this delicate question. At any rate, rightly or wrongly, on his +estrangement from his wife, but two years before the final separation, +he showed a greater devotion than ever to dramatic performances and +dramatic performers. His uncle by marriage, now General Burgoyne, had +written a play that turned out an extraordinary success. This was _The +Heiress_, and it had received extravagant praise in many influential +quarters. It was while it was still being talked of in society that a +company of distinguished amateurs undertook to produce it at Richmond +House, in Whitehall Place. In order that the representation might be as +perfect as possible, the Duchess of Richmond engaged the actress who +had taken the chief part in the original production, to superintend +the rehearsals of her amateurs. Miss Farren was a young person +of considerable beauty, and more even than an actress's share of +discretion. She was in George Colman's company at the Haymarket, and +was rapidly taking the place of Mrs. Abington in the affections of +playgoers. She was the daughter of a surgeon in a small way--he may have +been one of the barber surgeons of the eighteenth century. Marrying an +actress (also in a small way), he adopted the stage as a profession, and +became a strolling actor-manager, whenever he got the chance, and died +before his drinking habits had quite demoralised his family. + +Mrs. Farren was a wise woman--wise enough to know that she was a bad +actress, but that there were possibilities in her two daughters. It was +after only a brief season of probation that Colman engaged one of +the girls to do small parts, promoting her in an emergency to be a +"principal." Miss Farren proved herself capable of making the most of +her opportunity, and the result was that within a year she was taking +Mrs. Abington's parts in the best comedies. + +Her mother was sensible enough to perceive that there was room in the +best society for an actress of ability as well as respectability--up to +that time the two qualities had seldom been found associated--and Mrs. +Farren was right. No whisper had ever been heard against the young lady, +and a judicious introduction or two brought her into many drawing-rooms +of those leaders of society who were also respectable, and this was of +advantage to her not only socially, but professionally. Horace Walpole +was able to write of her: "In distinction of manner and refinement she +excelled Mrs. Abington, who could never go beyond Lady Teazle, which is +a second-rate character." Again, in a letter to Lady Ossory, he ascribed +the ability of Miss Farren to the fact that she was accustomed to mingle +with the best society. + +This theory of Walpole's has been frequently controverted since his day, +and now no one will venture to assert that there is really anything in +it, although it sounds plausible enough. Miss Farren had, however, ample +opportunity of studying "the real thing" and of profiting by her study. +She found herself on the most intimate footing with duchesses--not of +the baser sort like her of Ancaster, or of the eccentric sort like her +of Bedford, but of the most exalted. The Duchess of Richmond and the +Duchess of Leinster were among her friends, and thus it was that her +appearance at the rehearsals of _The Heiress_ of Whitehall Place was +not wholly professional. Upon this occasion she met Lord Derby and also +Charles James Fox, the latter having accepted the rather onerous duties +of stage manager. Before any of the performers were letter perfect in +their dialogue, Miss Farren had captured the hearts of both these +men. Having some of the qualities necessary to success as a statesman, +including caution and an instinct as to the right moment to retire from +a contest that must end in some one being made a fool of, Mr. Fox soon +withdrew from a position of rivalry with Lord Derby. It was rumoured by +the malicious, who had at heart the maintenance of the good name of +Miss Farren, that Mr. Fox had been dismissed by the lady with great +indignation on his making a proposition to her that did not quite +meet her views in regard to the ceremony of marriage. Miss Farren they +asserted to be a paragon of virtue, and so she undoubtedly was. Her +virtue was of the most ostentatious type. She would never admit a +gentleman to an audience unless some witness of her virtue was present. +She accepted the devotion of Lord Derby, but gave him to understand +quite plainly that so long as his wife was alive she could only agree to +be his _fiance_. Truly a very dragon of virtue was Miss Farren! + +The Earl, previous to his meeting the actress, had been a dutiful if not +a very devoted husband. But as soon as he fell in love with this paragon +of virtue he became careless, and made no attempt to restrain his wife +in her thoughtless behaviour. He allowed her to go her own way, and he +went his way. His way led him almost every evening to the green room +at the Haymarket and Drury Lane, where Miss Farren was to be found. The +estrangement between himself and his wife that resulted in the final +separation was the result not of his infatuation for the actress, but of +her virtuous acceptance of him as her moral lover. She took care never +to compromise herself with him or any one else, but she did not mind +taking the man away from his wife and home in order that she might be +accredited with occupying an absolutely unique position in the annals of +the English stage. + +If Miss Farren had been a little less virtuous and a little more human +she would run a better chance of obtaining the sympathy of such people +as are capable of differentiating between a woman's virtue and the +virtues of womankind. She seemed to think that the sole duty of a woman +is to be discreet in regard to herself--to give no one a chance of +pointings finger of scorn at her; and it really seemed as if this was +also the creed of the noble people with whom she associated. Every +one seemed to be so paralysed by her propriety as to be incapable of +perceiving how contemptible a part she was playing. An honest woman, +with the instincts of goodness and with some sense of her duty, would, +the moment a married man offers her his devotion, send him pretty +quickly about his business. The most elementary sense of duty must +suggest the adoption of such a course of treatment in regard to +an illicit admirer. But Miss Farren had no such sense. She met the +philandering of her lover with smiles and a virtuous handshake. She +accepted his offer of an adoring friendship for the present with a +reversion of the position of Countess of Derby on the death of the +existing holder of the title and its appurtenances; and people held her +up, and continue to hold her up, as an example of all that is virtuous +and amiable in life! + +She was also commended for her patience, as Lord Derby was for his +constancy. They had both great need of these qualities, for the unhappy +barrier to their union showed no signs of getting out of their way, +either by death or divorce. She became strangely discreet, taking, in +fact, a leaf out of Miss Farren's book of deportment, and never giving +her husband a chance of freeing himself from the tie that bound him +nominally to her. It must have been very gratifying to the actress to +perceive how effective was the example she set to the Countess in regard +to the adherence to the path of rectitude. + +What was the exact impression produced upon Lord Derby by all this +decorum it would be difficult to say. He may have been pleased to +discover that he was married to a lady to whom his honour was more +precious than he had any reason or any right to believe it to be. But +assuredly a less placid gentleman would have found himself wishing now +and again that--well, that matters had arranged themselves differently. + +The years went by without bringing about a more satisfactory _modus +vivendi_ than was in existence when Lord Derby originally offered his +heart and hand (the latter when it should become vacant) to the actress. +Lady Derby was in wretched health, but still showed no more inclination +to die than does a chronic invalid. Miss Farren continued to drive her +splendid chariot, with its coachmen on the hammer-cloth and its footmen +clinging on to the straps behind, down to the stage-door of the theatre, +and to fill the house every night that she played. Her popularity seemed +to grow with years, and she appeared in a wide range of characters, +making her audiences accept as correct her reading of every part, though +the best critics--Walpole was about the worst--of her art had a good +deal to say that was not quite favourable to her style. Only once, +however, did she make a flagrant error on the stage, and this was when +she was misguided enough to put on men's garments in representing the +part of Tracy Lovell in Colman's play, _The Suicide_. + +By this unhappy exhibition which she made of herself she disillusioned +those of her admirers who fancied that she was a model of grace from +the sole of her feet to the crown of her head. She never repeated this +performance. Had she done so in Lord Derby's presence, his constancy +would have been put to a severer test than any to which he had been +previously subjected. The best judges of what constitutes grace in a +woman were unanimous in their advice to the lady never to forsake the +friendly habiliments which she was accustomed to wear, and never to +allow her emulation of the perpetually chaste goddess to lead her to +adopt even for an hour the convenient garb in which she went a-hunting. + +And while his fiance was moving from triumph to triumph, putting every +other actress in the shade, the Earl of Derby was putting on flesh. But +as his flesh became more visible so did his faith. He was a model of +fidelity. His name was never associated with the name of any other +lady--not even that of his wife--during his long years of probation, and +twenty years form a rather protracted period for a man to wait in order +to marry an actress. It was not to be wondered if the spectacle of the +devoted young peer waiting for the beautiful girl in the green room, +which was allowed to the habitus of that fascinating apartment during +the earlier years of this strange attachment, produced quite a different +effect upon people from that which was the result of witnessing a +somewhat obese, elderly gentleman panting along by the side of a chaste +lady of forty. Nor was it remarkable that, on seeing one day by the side +of Miss Farren, a gallant young man whose walk and bearing suggested +to elderly spectators a rejuvenated Lord Stanley, they should rub their +eyes and ask what miracle was this that time and true love had wrought. + +The only miracle that time had wrought was to make the son of the Earl +of Derby twenty-one years of age and rather interested in the personnel +of green rooms. He had been introduced to Miss Farren by his father; but +to his honour be it said, he made no attempt to take his father's +place in regard to the lady, except as her escort to her house in Green +Street. The gossip that suggested such a possibility was just what one +might expect to find in one of Walpole's letters. + +At last the shameful, if virtuous, devotion of twenty years was +rewarded by the announcement of the death of the wretched Countess whose +desertion dated from the day her husband met the actress. Miss Farren, +with that extraordinary bad taste which characterised every period +of her intimacy with Lord Derby, took an ostentatious farewell of the +stage, and proved by the faltering of her voice, her emotion, and her +final outburst in tears, that time had not diminished from the arts of +her art. Of course, there was a scene of intense emotion in the theatre, +which was increased when King led her forward and Wroughton spoke a +rhymed and stagey farewell in her presence. Four of its lines were +these: + + But ah! this night adieu the joyous mien, + + When Mirth's lov'd fav'rite quits the mimic scene, + + Startled Thalia would th'assent refuse, + + But Truth and Virtue sued and won the Muse. + +Truth and Virtue--these were the patrons of the compact by which Miss +Farren waited for twenty years for the death of the wife of the man whom +she had promised to marry--when she could. + +The scene in the green room when the actress came off the stage was +an unqualified success. Tears flowed freely, making channels as they +meandered down the paint; sobs came from the actresses who hoped to get +a chance of doing some of her parts now that she had left the stage; +and Miss Farren herself showed that she knew what were the elements of a +proper climax, by fainting with a shriek, in the midst of which she made +an exit supported by all the actors who were not already supporting some +of the hysterical ladies in the background. They all deserved to have +their salaries raised. The whole scene was a triumph--of art. + +The exact chronology of the crisis is worth noting. Lady Derby died on +March 4th, and was buried on April 2nd. On April 8th Miss Farren took +her farewell of the stage, and on May 1st she was married to the Earl +of Derby. A satisfactory explanation of the indecent delay in the +celebration of the marriage was forthcoming: his lordship had been +suffering from an attack of gout. + +But if no one ventured to cast an aspersion upon his character or to +accuse him of shilly-shallying in regard to the postponement of his +nuptials until his wife had been nearly a whole month in her grave, +there was a good deal of funny gossip set loose when, after a honeymoon +of two days, the Earl and the Countess returned to London. This also was +satisfactorily explained: the Countess was devoted to her mother! + +The marriage proved a very happy one, and thirty-two years passed before +the Countess died. Her husband survived her by five years. He died in +1834, fifty-seven years after his first meeting with the actress, and +forty-seven since he instituted "The Derby" race meeting, winning the +first cup by his horse Sir Peter Teazle. + + + + +THE PLOT OF A LADY NOVELIST + +IN the year 1790-1 there was played in real life a singularly poor +adaptation of an unwritten novel by one of the Minifie sisters--those +sentimental ladies who, during the last quarter of the eighteenth +century, provided the circulating libraries with several volumes of +high-flown fiction. The adaptation of this unwritten novel possessed a +good many of the most prominent features of the original, so that when +it was brought to light there could be very little doubt as to the brain +out of which it had been evolved. The result of the performance was so +unsatisfactory as to compel one to believe that the worst possible way +of producing a novel is to adapt it to suit the requirements of one's +relations, forcing them to play in real life and in all earnest the +parts assigned to them by the inventor of the plot. + +Miss Minifie, the second of the sentimental sisters, had married in the +year 1769 Colonel John Gunning, the brother of the two beautiful girls +one of whom became Duchess of Hamilton, and later Duchess of Argyll, and +the other Countess of Coventry. The result of the union was a daughter +of considerable plainness, and people said that in this respect she +resembled her mother's rather than her father's family. It seems that +while the Gunning tradition was beauty, the Minifie tradition was a +nose, and it soon became apparent that it was impossible to combine the +two with any satisfactory artistic results. The young lady had made an +honest attempt to do so, but her failure was emphatic. She had eyes that +suggested in a far-off way the long-lashed orbs of her aunts, but that +unlucky Minifie nose was so prominent a feature that it caused the +attention of even the most indulgent critic to be riveted upon it, to +the exclusion of the rest of her face. The charitably-disposed among her +friends affirmed that she would be passably good-looking if it were not +for her nose; the others said that she would be positively plain if it +were not for her eyes. + +Her father was probably that member of his family who had least brains: +they made a soldier of him, and he married a lady novelist, closing an +inglorious career by running off with his tailor's wife and having a +writ issued against him for 5000. He took care to be at Naples, outside +the jurisdiction of the English court, when it was issued, and he died +before it could be served on him, which suggests that he may not have +been so devoid of brains after all. + +Her mother (_ne_ Minifie) seems to have entertained the idea of making +the girl work out a "plot" for her when she arrived at the regulation +age of the sentimental heroine of those days, and this plot she invented +with all her accustomed absence of skill. Her materials were a "glorious +child"--this was how she described her daughter--with a gifted mother; +a young cousin, heir to a dukedom and a large estate; and, lastly, +the Gunning tradition. Could any novelist ask for more? A short time +afterwards she did, however, and this was just where her art failed her. +She did much to discourage the writers of fiction from endeavouring to +work out their plots in real life. + +Catherine Gunning, the "glorious child," being the niece of the Duchess +of Argyll, her cousin was, of course, the Marquis of Lome; and as the +Duchess had always kept up an intimate connection with the members of +her father's family, even to the second generation, her son, Lord Lome, +and Catherine Gunning had been a good deal together, not only when +they were children, but also when they had reached the age when the +novel-writer's hero and heroine begin to blossom. The girl's mother, +doubtless having an idea that these very live young people were +as plastic as the creatures of her fancy, thought to hasten on the +_dnouement_ of her story by whispering it to her friends. She whispered +into more than one ear that Lord Lome and her daughter were betrothed, +and such friends as received this information, strictly _sub rosa_, took +care to spread it abroad--strictly _sub rosa_ also. Now the aggregation +of many confidential reports of this sort is what is termed "news," so +that in the course of a short time it was common property that Lord Lome +was to marry his cousin, Catherine Gunning. + +Congratulations reached the young lady, which she neither quite accepted +nor altogether rejected. She seems to have learned from her mother's +novels that in such matters it is wisest for a young woman to be silent +but pensive. And on the whole her behaviour was fairly consistent with +that of the heroine which her mother meant her to be. Indeed, all that +was needed to enable her to take the place of the heroine of a pleasant +little love story was the proposal of the hero; and unhappily this +formality had still to be reckoned with. Lord Lome had so paltry an +appreciation of what was due to the art of the fiction-writer that +he declined to play the part of the young hero of the story, and when +people approached him on the subject he said that he had heard nothing +about being accepted by Miss Gunning, and that he could not possibly be +accepted until he had proposed to her. He seems to have acted with the +discretion one would have looked for from the son of the Duchess of +Argyll, and in the course of the year the reports of the possible +union dwindled away, and people began to feel that their friends were +untrustworthy gossips to have circulated a report solely on the evidence +of a young lady's pensiveness. + +This was, however, as it turned out, but the opening chapter in the +romance which the novelist-mother was working out. Indeed, it scarcely +bears to be considered as a regular chapter, it was rather the prologue +to the comedy which was played two years later with the same heroine, +but for obvious reasons with a different hero. In the prologue there was +scarcely visible any of the art of the novelist; in the comedy itself, +however, her hand is constantly apparent, controlling the movements of +at least one of her puppets; and very jerkily, too, that hand pulled the +strings. The clumsiness in the construction of the plot prevented any +one from sympathising with the authoress and stage-manager of the piece +when its failure became known to the world in general, and to Horace +Walpole in particular. Walpole could pretend a good deal. He pretended, +for instance, that he knew at once that the Rowley poems, sent to him by +Chatterton, were forgeries; and he pretended that he knew nothing of the +marriage of his niece to the Duke of Gloucester until the public were +apprised of the fact. He could not, however, even pretend that he +sympathised with the failure of the Minifie plot. On the contrary, he +gloats over the disgrace which, he declared, on this account fell +upon the Gunning family. He hated the whole Gunning family, and he was +plainly in ecstasies of delight when he believed that ruin had come upon +them. "The two beautiful sisters were exalted almost as high as they +could go," he wrote. "Countessed and double duchessed, and now the +family have dragged themselves down into the very dirt." + +The "family" had of course done nothing of the sort. One member of the +family had allowed herself to be made a fool of at the suggestion of her +very foolish mother; her father had also been indiscreet, but there is +a wide difference between all this and the family of Gunning "dragging +themselves into the very dirt." The result of the tricks of the lady +novelist to marry her daughter to the heir to a dukedom was only to +make every one roar with laughter, and no doubt the fatuous ladies felt +greatly annoyed. But the Marquis of Lome did not seem to take the matter +greatly to heart, and he was a member of the Gunning family; nor did the +Duke of Hamilton show himself to be greatly perturbed, though he must +have been somewhat jealous of the honour of the family to which his +mother belonged. The position that the Gunning family had taken among +the greatest families in the land rested upon too solid a foundation +to be shaken by the foolishness of a lady novelist, who had married a +Gunning. And now people who read the story of the "dragging in the dirt" +only shrug their shoulders at the ridiculous figure cut by the actors +in the shallow and sordid comedy, and laugh at the spiteful gibe of the +prince of gossips, who played a congenial part in damning the product of +the Minifie brain. + +Two years after the failure of the Lome plot startling whispers were +once again heard in regard to Miss Gunning and the heir to another +dukedom. This time it was the Marquis of Blandford who attracted +the Minifie fancy. He was the Duke of Marlborough's heir, and was +twenty-three years of age. Of course it was Mrs. Gunning (_ne_ Minifie) +who was the first to make the announcement that the young people were +greatly attached; and then followed--after the interval of a chapter or +two--the lady novelist's declaration to her niece, a Mrs. Bowen, that +Lord Blandford had proposed, and had been accepted by Miss Gunning. +The date of the marriage had been fixed, and the draft deed of the +settlements signed; but, as in the former "case," the recipient of +the news was told that she must regard the communication as strictly +confidential, the fact being that although the arrangements for the +match were so fully matured, yet General Gunning--he had recently been +made a general--had not been let into the secret. + +It must have seemed a little queer to Mrs. Bowen to learn that her uncle +had not been made acquainted with the good luck that was in store +for his daughter. The signing of marriage deeds in the absence of the +bride's father must surely have struck her as being a trifle irregular. +However this may be, she seems to have treated the communication as +strictly confidential by at once proceeding to spread abroad the news +that it contained. It reached the ears of several people of distinction +before long. General Conway heard of it, and from a quarter that seemed +to him absolutely trustworthy. He passed it round to Walpole and the +Court circle. The Duke of Argyll, as the uncle of the young lady most +interested in the match, was apprised of it in due course, and on +appealing to headquarters--that is to say, to Mrs. Gunning--for +confirmation or denial of the report, learned that the marriage had +indeed been "arranged," but the question of settlements remained in +abeyance. + +Shortly afterwards there came rumours that there were obstacles in the +way of the marriage, and Miss Gunning, on being questioned by some of +her friends, confessed that it was the parents of her lover who were +unkind: young Lord Blandford was burning with anxiety to call her his +own, but the Duke and Duchess belonged unfortunately to that type of +parent to be found in so many novels in which the course of true love +runs anything but smooth. + +Strange to say, it was just at this point that a letter appeared in the +_Advertiser_, signed by General Gunning, apprising the world of the fact +that the Gunnings were one of the noblest families in existence, the +writer actually being able to trace his ancestry up to Charlemagne. + +It was while people were so laughing over this letter as to cause him +to declare it to be a forgery, that the General became suspicious of the +genuineness of his daughter's statements in regard to her _affaire de +cour_. When a blunt old soldier finds a letter bearing his signature in +the papers, well knowing that he never wrote such a letter, he is apt to +question the good faith even of his nearest and dearest. It is certain, +at any rate, that the descendant of Charlemagne had an uneasy feeling +that any woman who wrote novels was not to be implicitly trusted in the +affairs of daily life. His mind running on forged letters, he commanded +his daughter to submit to him her correspondence with her lover. + +Miss Gunning at once complied, and he sat down to read the lot. The +result was not to allay his suspicions. The letters read remarkably +well, and contained the conventional outpourings of an ardent lover to +the object of his affections. But to the simple soldier's mind they read +just too well: some of them were in the style of a novel-writer with +whom he was acquainted--imperfectly, it would appear, or he would have +suspected something long before. Retaining the precious "pacquet" he +awaited developments. + +He had not long to wait. Another contribution to the correspondence +which he had in his hand came to his daughter, and was passed on to him. +Noticing in it some doubtful features, he came to the conclusion that +it was necessary to get to the bottom of the affair in the most +straightforward way. He leapt to the bottom of it by sending the whole +"pacquet" to the young Marquis of Blandford, asking him peremptorily if +he had written the letters. + +He got a reply to the effect that a few of the letters were his--they +were the ordinary ones, courteous, but in no way effusive--but that the +greater number had not come from him. His lordship did not seem to think +that common politeness demanded his expressing his hearty concurrence +with the tone and sentiments contained in these same letters. Now in +the judgment of a novelist of the intellectual calibre of the Minifie +sisters this is exactly what a young gentleman would do when playing +the part of the hero of a romance, so that it would appear that General +Gunning was fully justified in coming to the conclusion that the whole +scheme--the whole piece of scheming--was the design of his wife--that it +represented an attempt on her part to force one of her "plots" upon some +real personages. Dull-minded man though he certainly was, he must have +perceived that his wife's plan was to compel Lord Blandford to act the +part of the hero of her sentimental imagination, and when confronted +with a parcel of forged letters, in every one of which there was a +confession of love for Miss Gunning, to bow his head meekly, as any +gentleman (of her imagination) would, and say, "Those are my letters, +and they express nothing but the most honourable sentiments of my +heart." + +But as it so happened the young Lord Blandford was not a young gentleman +of this particular stamp. He seems to have been almost as practical as +his great ancestor, who, out of the proceeds of his first love intrigue, +bought an annuity for himself. Hence the fiasco of the Minifie plot. + +The Minifie plot, however, was not worked out in one act only, and an +insignificant prologue. The resources of the lady's imagination were +by no means exhausted by the failure of Lord Blandford to act up to the +heroic part assigned to him. He seems to have talked a good deal to +his friends about the forged letters, and the Duke of Argyll, the young +lady's uncle, took the matter up as an important member by marriage +of the family. He applied to his niece for an explanation of the whole +affair; and her father seems to have agreed with him in thinking that +if the girl was ever to hold up her head again it would be necessary +for her to bring forward some evidence to prove what she still asserted, +namely, that the letters had been written to her by Lord Blandford--this +"pacquet" of letters played as important a part in the story of Miss +Gunning as the "Casquet Letters" did in the history of Queen Mary--and +that they were written with the concurrence and approbation of the Duke +and Duchess of Marlborough. The Duke and Duchess had, she affirmed, +encouraged her by the most unmistakable means to believe that they were +extremely anxious to see her married to their son. + +It was then suggested--Horace Walpole, who gloats over the whole story +in a letter to one of the Berrys, does not say by whom--that the young +woman should draw up a narrative of the progress of the attachment +professed for her by Lord Blandford, and of the particular acts +of encouragement for which she alleged the Duke and Duchess were +responsible, leading her to feel sure that she was a _persona grata_ +with them. It was hoped by the Duke of Argyll and General Gunning that +the girl would be rehabilitated in the eyes of society by the production +of the Duke of Marlborough's formal assent to the statements made +by Miss Gunning in endeavouring to exculpate herself. Miss Gunning +assenting--after a consultation with her mother, we may be sure--a +"narrative" was accordingly prepared by the young lady, and in it there +was the ingenuous confession that although she had been unable to resist +so dazzling an offer as that of Lord Blandford, she had not wavered in +her affection for her cousin, the Marquis of Lome. + +Here we have the true Minifie touch of sentimentality, and we cannot +doubt that the remaining portion of the plot was due to her clumsy +ingenuity. + +This narrative was sent to the Duke of Marlborough, with the following +letter from General Gunning: + +"St. James's Place, + +"_3 rd February_, 1791. + +"My Lord,--I have the honour of addressing this letter to your Grace +not with the smallest wish after what has passed of having a marriage +established between Lord Blandford and my daughter, or of claiming any +promise or proposal to that effect, but merely to know whether your +Grace or the Duchess of Marlborough have it in recollection that +your Graces or Lord Blandford ever gave my daughter reason to think a +marriage was once intended. + +"My motive for giving this trouble arises merely from a desire of +removing any imputation from my daughter's character, as if she +had entertained an idea of such importance without any reasonable +foundation. + +"For my own satisfaction, and that of my particular friends who have +been induced to believe the reports of the intended marriage, I have +desired my daughter to draw up an accurate narrative of every material +circumstance on which that belief was founded. + +"This narrative I have the honour of transmitting to your Grace for your +own perusal, and that of the Duchess of Marlborough and Lord Blandford, +thinking it highly suitable that you should have an early opportunity +of examining it--and I beg leave to request that your Grace will, after +examination, correct or alter such passages as may appear either to your +Grace, the Duchess of Marlborough, or Lord Blandford, to be erroneously +stated. + +"I have the honour to be, + +"With the greatest respect, my Lord, + +"Your Grace's most humble and + +"Most obedient servant, + +"John Gunning." + +This letter was dispatched by a groom to its destination at Blenheim, +and within half an hour of his delivering it, His Grace, according to +the groom, had handed him a reply for General Gunning. This document, +which the groom said he had received from the Duke, was forwarded, with +a copy of the letter to which it constituted a most satisfactory reply, +to a small and very select committee that had, it would seem, been +appointed to investigate and report upon the whole story. It must also +be quoted in full, in order that its point may be fully appreciated by +any one interested in this very remarkable story. + +"Blenheim. + +"Sir,--I take the earliest opportunity to acknowledge the receipt of +your letter, and to answer it with that explicitness you are so much +entitled to. From the first of the acquaintance of the D------s of +Marlborough and myself had with Miss Gunning, we were charmed with +her, and it was with infinite satisfaction we discovered _Blanford's_ +sentiments similar to our own. It had long been the wish of both to +see him married to some amiable woman. Your daughter was the one we had +fixed on, and we had every reason to suppose the object of his tenderest +affections, and, from the conduct of both himself and his family, +yourself and Miss Gunning had undoubtedly every right to look on a +marriage as certain. Indeed when I left town last summer, I regarded her +as my future daughter, and I must say it is with sorrow I relinquish the +idea. The actions of young men are not always to be accounted for; +and it is with regret that I acknowledge my son has been particularly +unaccountable in his. I beg that you will do me the justice to believe +that I shall ever think myself your debtor for the manner in which you +have conducted yourself in this affair, and that I must always take +an interest in the happiness of Miss Gunning. I beg, if she has not +conceived a disgust for the whole of my family, she will accept the +sincerest good wishes of the Duchess and my daughters. + +"I have the honour to remain, + +"Sir, + +"Your much obliged and + +"Most obedient, humble servant, + +"Marlborough." + +Now be it remembered that both these letters were forwarded to the +committee with the young lady's narrative, to be considered by them in +the same connection, at Argyll House, where their sittings were to be +held. + +What was to be said in the face of such documentary evidence as this? +Those members of the committee who hoped that the girl's statement of +her case would be in some measure borne out by the Duke of Marlborough +could never have hoped for so triumphant a confirmation of her story as +was contained in His Grace's letter. It seemed as if the investigation +of the committee would be of the simplest character; handing them such +a letter, accompanying her own ingenuous narrative, it was felt that she +had completely vindicated her position. + +But suddenly one member of the committee--Walpole in the letter to Miss +Berry affirms that he was this one--ventured to point out that in the +Duke's letter the name _Blandford_ was spelt without the middle letter +_d_. "That was possible in the hurry of doing justice," wrote Walpole. +But the moment that this pin-puncture of suspicion appeared in the +fabric of the lady's defence it was not thought any sacrilege to try to +pick another hole in it. The wax with which the letter was sealed +was black, and the members of the council asked one another whom the +Marlborough family were in mourning for, that they should seal their +letter in this fashion. No information on this point was forthcoming. +(It is strange if Walpole did not suggest that they were in mourning +over the defunct reputation of the young lady.) If the Duke of Argyll +was present, it can well be believed that, after the members of the +council had looked at each other, there should be silence in that room, +on one wall of which we may believe there was hanging the splendid +portrait of Elizabeth, Duchess of Argyll and Baroness Hamilton of +Hameldon, in her own right, painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds. The lady was +dying at her Scotch home when this investigation into the conduct of her +niece was being conducted. + +It was probably a relief to every one present when the suggestion was +made that the Duke of Marlborough's second son was in town, and if +sent for he might be able to throw some light upon the subject of the +mourning wax or some other questionable point in the same connection. +Although it was now close upon midnight a messenger was dispatched for +the young man--probably his whereabouts at midnight would be known with +greater certainty than at midday. At any rate he was quickly found, +and repaired in all haste to Argyll House. He was brought before +the committee and shown the letter with the black wax. He burst out +laughing, and declared that the writing bore not the least resemblance +to that of his father, the Duke of Marlborough. + +There was nothing more to be said. The council adjourned _sine die_ +without drawing up any report, so far as can be ascertained. + +But the full clumsiness of the Minifie "plot" was revealed the next day, +for General Gunning received a letter from the Captain Bowen whose name +has already entered into this narrative, telling him that his wife, the +General's niece, had a short time before received from Miss Gunning a +letter purporting to be a copy of one which had come to her from the +Duke of Marlborough, and begging her to get her husband to make a fair +copy of it, and return it by the groom. Captain Bowen added that he +had complied with his wife's request to this effect, but he had written +"_copy_" at the top and "_signed M_." at the bottom, as is usual in +engrossing copies of documents, to prevent the possibility of a charge +of forgery being brought against the copyist. + +The letter which the girl wrote to Mrs. Bowen was made the subject of +an affidavit shortly afterwards, and so became public property. It is +so badly composed that one cannot but believe it was dictated by her +mother, though the marvellous spelling must have been Miss Gunning's +own. The fact that, after making up a story of her love for Lord Lome, +and of the encouragement she received from the Marlborough family in +respect of Lord Blandford, she instructed Mrs. Bowen to keep the matter +secret from her mother, confirms one's impression as to the part the +lady must have played in the transaction. Miss Gunning wrote: "Neither +papa or I have courage to tell mama, for she detests the person dearest +to me on earth." + +But however deficient in courage her papa was in the matter of +acquainting his wife with so ordinary an incident as was referred to in +this letter, he did not shrink from what he believed to be his duty when +it was made plain to him that his daughter and his wife had been working +out a "plot" in real life that necessitated the forging of a letter. +He promptly bundled both wife and daughter out of his house, doubtless +feeling that although the other personages in the romance which his wife +was hoping to weave, had by no means acted up to the parts she had meant +them to play, there was no reason why he should follow their example. +It must be acknowledged that as a type of the bluff old soldier, simple +enough to be deceived by the inartistic machinations of a foolish wife, +but inexorable when finding his credulity imposed upon, he played +his part extremely well. At the same time such people as called him a +ridiculous old fool for adopting so harsh a measure toward his erring +child, whose tricks he had long winked at, were perhaps not to be +greatly blamed. + +The old Duchess of Bedford at once received the outcasts and provided +them with a home; and then Mrs. Gunning had leisure to concoct a +manifesto in form of an open letter to the Duke of Argyll, in which, +after exhorting His Grace to devote the remainder of his life to +unravelling the mystery which she affirmed (though no one else could +have done so) enshrouded the whole affair of the letter, she went on +to denounce the simple-hearted General for his meanness--and worse--in +matters domestic. He had never been a true husband to her, she declared, +and he was even more unnatural as a father. As for Captain Bowen and his +wife, the writer of the manifesto showed herself to be upon the brink +of delirium when she endeavoured to find words severe enough to describe +their treachery. They were inhuman in their persecution of her "glorious +child," she said, and then she went on to affirm her belief that the +incriminating letters had been forged by the Bowens, and the rest of the +story invented by them with the aid of the General to ruin her and her +"glorious child." + +Captain Bowen thought fit to reply to this amazing production. He did so +through the prosaic form of a number of affidavits. The most important +of these was that sworn by one William Pearce, groom to General Gunning. +In this document he deposed that when he was about to start for Blenheim +with the "pacquet" for the Duke of Marlborough, Miss Gunning had caught +him and compelled him to hand over the "pacquet" to her, and that +she had then given him another letter, sealed with black, bearing +the Marlborough arms, instructing him to deliver it to her father, +pretending that he had received it at Blenheim. + +In spite of all this Miss Gunning continued to affirm her entire +innocence, and even went the length--according to Walpole--of swearing +before a London magistrate that she was innocent. "It is but a burlesque +part of this wonderful tale," adds Walpole, "that old crazy Bedford +exhibits Miss every morning on the Causeway in Hyde Park and declares +her _protge_ some time ago refused General Trevelyan." But "crazy old +Bedford" went much further in her craziness than this, for she actually +wrote to the Marquis of Lome trying to patch up a match between Miss +Gunning and himself. Immediately afterwards the town was startled by the +report that a duel was impending between Lord Lome and Lord Blandford, +the former maintaining that it was his duty to uphold the honour of his +cousin, which had been somewhat shaken by the course adopted by the +Marlborough heir. Of course no duel took place, and the young men simply +laughed when their attention was called to the statement in print. + +How much further these alarums and excursions (on the Causeway) would +have proceeded it would be impossible to tell, the fact being that +Captain Bowen and his wife gave notice of their intention to institute +proceedings against the Gunnings, mother and daughter, for libel. This +brought _l'affaire Gunning_ to a legitimate conclusion, for the ladies +thought it advisable to fly to France. + +"The town is very dull without them," wrote Walpole to one of the +Berrys, enclosing a copy of a really clever skit in verse, after the +style of "The House that Jack Built," ridiculing the whole affair. +When Mrs. Gunning and her daughter returned, after the lapse of several +months, the old Duchess of Bedford took them up once more; but the town +declined to take any further notice of them. It was not until her father +and mother had been dead for some years that Miss Gunning married Major +Plunkett, an Irish rebel, who fled after the rising in 1798. She lived +with him happily enough for twenty years, endeavouring to atone for the +indiscretion of her girlhood by writing novels. It is doubtful if many +of her readers considered such expiation wholly adequate, considering +how foolish she had been. One act of folly can hardly be atoned for +by another. But her intention was good, and her faults, including her +novels, have long ago been forgiven her by being forgotten. + + + + +TRAGEDY WITH A TWINKLE + +IN the summer of 1770 there arrived at the town of Lisle a coach +containing three ladies and one man, followed by a travelling chaise +with servants and luggage. Of the ladies, one was approaching middle +age, handsome and elegant; the other two were her daughters, and both +were extremely beautiful and graceful girls, under twenty years of age. +The man was a small, middle-aged person, with a face which one would +have called plain if it had not been that the protruding of his upper +lip and the twinkle in his eyes suggested not plainness, but comedy. The +very soul of comedy was in the gravity of his face; but it was that sort +which is not apparent to all the world. It was the soul of comedy, not +the material part; and most people are disposed to deny the possibility +of comedy's existing except in juxtaposition with the grin through the +horse-collar. Solemnity in a face, with a twinkle in the eye--that is +an expression which comedy may wear without arousing the +curiosity--certainly without exciting the laughter--of the multitude. +And this was exactly the form that the drama of this man's life assumed; +only it was tragedy with a twinkle. Tragedy with a twinkle--that was +Oliver Goldsmith. + +[Illustration: 0203] + +The vehicles drew up in the courtyard of the hotel in the square, and +Dr. Goldsmith, after dismounting and helping the ladies to dismount, +gave orders in French to the landlord in respect of the luggage, and +made inquiries as to the table d'hte. Shown to their respective rooms, +the members of the party did not meet again for some time, and then it +was in the private _salle_ which they had engaged, looking out upon +the square. The two girls were seated at a window, and their mother was +writing letters at a table at one side. + +When Dr. Goldsmith entered we may be pretty sure that he had exchanged +his travelling dress for a more imposing toilet, and we may be equally +certain that these two girls had something merry to say about the cut or +the colour of his garments--we have abundant record of their _badinage_ +bearing upon his flamboyant liking for colour, and of his retorts in +the same spirit. We have seen him strutting to and fro in gay apparel, +obtrusively calling attention to the beauty of his waistcoat and +speaking in solemn exaggeration of its importance. The girls were well +aware of this form of his humour; they appreciated it to the full, and +responded to it in their merriment. + +Then there came the sound of martial music from the square, and the +elder of the girls, opening the window on its hinges, looked out. A +regiment of soldiers was turning into the square and would pass the +hotel, she said. The two girls stood at one window and Goldsmith at +another while the march past took place. It was not surprising that, +glancing up and seeing the beautiful pair at the window, the mounted +officers at the head of the regiment should feel flattered by the +attention, nor was it unlikely that the others, taking the _pas_ from +their superiors, should look up and exchange expressions in admiration +of the beauty of the young ladies. It is recorded that they did so, and +that, when the soldiers had marched off, the little man at the other +window walked up and down the room in anger "that more attention had +been paid to them than to him." + +These are the words of Boswell in concluding his account of the episode, +which, by the way, he printed with several other stories in illustration +of the overwhelming vanity and extraordinary envy in Goldsmith's +nature. As if any human being hearing such a story of the most complete +curmudgeon would accept the words as spoken seriously! And yet Boswell +printed it in all solemnity, and hoped that every one who read it would +believe that Goldsmith, the happy-go-lucky Irishman, was eaten up with +envy of the admiration given to the two exquisite girls on whom, by the +way, be conferred immortality; for so long as English literature remains +the names of the Jessamy Bride and Little Comedy will live. Yes, and +so long as discriminating people read the story of Goldsmith's envious +outburst they will not fail to see the true picture of what did actually +take place in that room in the Lisle hotel--they will see the little man +stalking up and down, that solemn face of his more solemn than ever, but +the twinkle in his eyes revealing itself all the more brightly on this +account, while he shakes his fists at the ladies and affirms that the +officers were dolts and idiots to waste their time gazing at them when +they had a chance "of seeing me, madam, me--_me!_" Surely every human +being with the smallest amount of imagination will see the little man +thumping his waistcoat, while the Miss Hornecks hold up their hands and +go into fits of laughter at that whimsical Dr. Goldsmith, whom they had +chosen to be their companion on that tour of theirs through France with +their mother. + +And surely every one must see them in precisely the same attitude, when +they read the story in Boswell's _Life of Johnson_, and notice what +interpretation has been put upon it by the Scotsman--hands uplifted in +amazement and faces "o'er-running with laughter" at the thought of how +Mr. Boswell has, for the thousandth time, been made a fool of by +some one who had picked up the story from themselves and had solemnly +narrated it to Boswell. But in those days following the publication of +the first edition of the _Life_, people were going about with uplifted +hands, wondering if any man since the world began had ever been so +befooled as Boswell. + +When the story appeared in _Johnson's Life_ the two girls had been +married for several years; but one of them at least had not forgotten +the incident upon which it was founded; and upon its being repeated in +Northcote's _Life of Reynolds_, she wrote to the biographer, assuring +him that in this, as well as in other stories of the same nature, the +expression on Goldsmith's face when he professed to be overcome by envy +was such as left no one in doubt that he was jesting. But Croker, in +spite of this, had the impudence to sneer at the explanation, and to +attribute it to the good-nature of the lady. Mr. Croker seems to have +had a special smile of his own for the weaknesses of ladies. This was +the way he smiled when he was searching up old registries of their birth +in his endeavour to prove that they had made themselves out to be six +months younger than they really were. (Quite different, however, must +his smile have been when he read Macaulay's Essay on Croker's edition +of Boswell's _Life of Johnson_). But, unhappily for poor Goldsmith, +Mr. Boswell was able to bring forward much stronger evidence of the +consuming Vanity, the parent of Envy, with which his "honest Dr. +Goldsmith" was afflicted. There was once an exhibition of puppets in +Panton Street, and on some member of the distinguished company in which +he, curiously enough for such a contemptible lout, constantly found +himself, admiring the dexterity with which the wooden figure tossed +a halbert, Goldsmith, we are gravely told, appeared annoyed and said: +"Pshaw! I could do it as well myself!" Supposing that some one had said +to Boswell, "After all, sir, perhaps Dr. Goldsmith could have done it as +well himself," would the man have tried to explain that the question was +not whether Goldsmith or the puppet was the more dexterous, but +whether it was possible to put any other construction upon Goldsmith's +exclamation than that assumed by Mr. Boswell? + +Yet another instance is given of Goldsmith's envy, and this time the +object of it is not a wooden figure, but Shakespeare himself. He could +not bear, Dr. Beattie tells us, that so much admiration should be given +to Shakespeare. Hearing this, we feel that we are on quite a different +level. There is no jealousy rankling this time in Goldsmith's heart +against a mere puppet. It is now a frantic passion of chagrin that +Shakespeare should still receive the admiration of a chosen few! + +But such vanity as that so strikingly illustrated by this last told +story, is, one must confess with feelings of melancholy, not yet wholly +extinct among literary men. It would scarcely be believed--unless by +Boswell or Beattie--that even in America a man with some reputation as +a writer should deliberately ask people to assume that he himself was +worthy of a place in a group that included not merely Shakespeare, but +also Milton and Homer. "Gentlemen," said this egregious person at a +public dinner, "Gentlemen, think of the great writers who are dead and +gone. There was Shakespeare, he is dead and gone; and Milton, alas! +is no longer in the land of the living; Homer has been deceased for a +considerable time, and I myself, gentlemen, am not feeling very well +to-night." + +What a pity it is that Beattie has gone the way of so many other great +writers. If he could only have been laid on to Mark Twain we should have +the most comic biography ever written. + +Goldsmith was, according to the great Boswell and the many lesser +Boswells of his day, the most contemptible wretch that ever wrote the +finest poem of the century, the finest comedy of the century, the +finest romance of the century. He was a silly man, an envious man, an +empty-headed man, a stuttering fool, an idiot (of the inspired variety), +an awkward lout, a shallow pedant, and a generally ridiculous person; +and yet here we find him the chosen companion of two of the most +beautiful and charming young ladies in England on their tour through +France, and on terms of such intimacy with them and their brother, an +officer in the Guards and the son-in-law of a peer, that nicknames are +exchanged between them. A singular position for an Irish lout to find +himself in! + +Even before he is known to fame, and familiar only with famine, he is +visited in his garret by Dr. Percy, a member of the great Northumberland +family at whose town house he lived. So much for the empty-headed fool +who never opened his mouth except to put his foot in it, as a countryman +of his said about quite another person. He was a shallow prig, and yet +when "the Club" was started not one of the original members questioned +his right to a place among the most fastidious of the community, +although Garrick--to the shame of Johnson be it spoken--was not admitted +for nine years. Boswell--to the shame of Johnson be it spoken--was +allowed to crawl in after an exclusion of ten. According to his numerous +detractors, this Goldsmith was one of the most objectionable persons +possible to imagine, and yet we find him the closest friend of the +greatest painter of the day and the greatest actor of the day. He +associates with peers on the friendliest terms, and is the idol of their +daughters. He is accused, on the one hand, of aiming at being accounted +a Macaroni and being extravagant in his dress, and yet he has such a +reputation for slovenliness in this respect that it is recorded that +Dr. Johnson, who certainly never was accused of harbouring unworthy +aspirations to be accounted a beau, made it a point of putting on his +best garments--he may even have taken the extreme step of fastening up +his garters--before visiting Goldsmith, in order, as he explained, that +the latter might have no excuse for his slovenliness. We are also told +that Goldsmith made a fool of himself when he got on his feet to make +a speech, and yet it is known that he travelled through Europe, winning +the hospitality of more than one university by the display of his skill +as a disputant. Again, none of his innumerable traits of awkwardness is +so widely acknowledged as his conversational, and yet the examples which +survive of his impromptu wit are of the most finished type; and (even +when the record is made by Boswell), when he set himself out to take +opposite sides to Johnson, he certainly spoke better sense than his +antagonist, though he was never so loud. It is worth noting that nearly +all the hard things which Johnson is reported to have said respecting +Goldsmith were spoken almost immediately after one of these disputes. +Further, we are assured that Goldsmith's learning was of the shallowest +order, and yet when he was appointed Professor of History to the Royal +Academy we do not hear that any voice was raised in protest. + +What is a simple reader to think when brought face to face with such +contradictory accounts of the man and his attainments? Well, possibly +the best one can do is to say, as Fanny Burney did, that Goldsmith was +an extraordinary man. + +Of course, so far as his writings are concerned there is no need for one +to say much. They speak for themselves, and readers can form their own +opinion on every line and every sentence that has come from his pen. +There is no misunderstanding the character of _The Traveller_ or _The +Deserted Village_ or _The Vicar of Wakefield_. These are acknowledged by +the whole world to be among the most precious legacies of the eighteenth +century to posterity. Who reads nowadays, except out of curiosity, such +classics as _Tristram Shandy, Clarissa Harlow, Evelina, or Rasselas?_ +But who has not read, and who does not still read for pleasure, _The +Vicar of Wakefield?_ Johnson's laborious poem, _The Vanity of Human +Wishes_, now only exists as an example of the last gasp of the +didactic in verse; but we cannot converse without quoting--sometimes +unconsciously--from _The Deserted Village_ When the actor-manager of a +theatre wishes to show how accomplished a company he has at his disposal +he produces _She Stoops to Conquer_, and he would do so more frequently +only he is never quite able to make up his mind whether he himself +should play the part of old Hardcastle, Tony Lumpkin, Young Marlow, +or Diggory. But what other eighteenth-century comedy of all produced +previous to the death of Goldsmith can any manager revive nowadays with +any hope of success? Colman of the eighteenth century is as dead +as Congreve of the seventeenth; and what about the masterpieces of +Cumberland, and Kelly, and Whitehead, and the rest? What about the Rev. +Mr. Home's _Douglas_, which, according to Dr. Johnson, was equal to +Shakespeare at his best? They have all gone to the worms, and these +not even bookworms--their very graves are neglected. But _She Stoops +to Conquer_ is never revived without success--never without a modern +audience recognising the fact that its characters are not the puppets +of the playwright, but the creations of Nature. It is worthy of mention, +too, that the play which first showed the capacity of an actress +whose name was ever at the head of the list of actresses of the last +generation, was founded on _The Vicar of Wakefield._ It was Miss Ellen +Terry's appearance in _Olivia_ in 1878 that brought about her connection +with the ever memorable Lyceum management as an associate of the +greatest actor of our day. + +These things speak for themselves, and prove incontestably that +Goldsmith was head and shoulders above all those writers with whom he +was on intimate terms. But the mystery of the contradictory accounts +which we have of the man himself and his ways remains as unsolved as +ever. + +Yes, unless we assume one thing, namely--that the majority of the people +about him were incapable of understanding him. Is it going too far to +suggest that, as Daniel Defoe was sent to the pillory because his ironic +jest in _The Shortest Way with the Dissenters_ was taken in earnest, and +as good people shuddered at the horrible proposal of Swift that Irish +babies should be cooked and eaten, so Goldsmith's peculiarities of +humour were too subtle to be in any degree appreciated by most of the +people with whom he came in contact in England? + +In Ireland there would be no chance of his being misunderstood; for +there no form that his humour assumed would be regarded as peculiar. +Irony is a figure of speech so largely employed by the inhabitants in +some parts that people who have lived there for any length of time have +heard whole conversations carried on by two or three men without the +slightest divergence from this tortuous form of expression into the +straight path of commonplace English. And all this time there was no +expression but one of complete gravity on the faces of the speakers; +a stranger had no clue whatsoever to the game of words that was being +played before him. + +Another fully recognised form of humour which prevails in Ireland is +even more difficult for a stranger to follow; its basis consists in +mystifying another person, not for the sake of getting a laugh from a +third who has been let into the secret, but simply for the satisfaction +of the mystifier himself. The forms that such a scheme of humour +may assume are various. One of the most common is an affectation of +extraordinary stupidity. It is usually provoked by the deliverance of a +platitude by a stranger. The humourist pretends that he never heard such +a statement before, and asks to have it repeated. When this is done, +there is usually a pause in which the profoundest thought is suggested; +then the clouds are seen to clear away, and the perplexity on the man's +face gives way to intelligence; he has grasped the meaning of the phrase +at last, and he announces his victory with sparkling eyes, and forthwith +puts quite a wrong construction upon the simplest words. His chuckling +is brought to a sudden stop by the amazed protest of the victim against +the suggested solution of the obvious. Thus, with consummate art, the +man is led on to explain at length, with ridiculous emphasis, the exact +meaning of his platitude; but it is all to no purpose. The humourist +shakes his head; he pretends that the cleverness of the other is +too much for him to grasp all in a moment; it's a fine thing to have +learning, to be sure, but these things may be best not meddled with +by ignorant creatures like himself; and so he goes off murmuring his +admiration for the fine display of wisdom that comes so easy-like from +the man whom he has been fooling. + +This form of humour is indulged in by some Irishmen simply for the +satisfaction it gives them to indulge in it. They never hurry off +to acquaint a neighbour with what they have done, and they are quite +pleased with the thought that the person on whom they have been imposing +will tell the whole story of their extraordinary obtuseness to some +one else; it never strikes them that that some one else may fail to see +through the trick, and actually be convinced of the existence of their +obtuseness. But if such a possibility did occur to them, they would be +all the better pleased: they would feel that they had fooled two instead +of one. + +But, of course, the most widely recognised form of Irish humour is that +known as the "bull." This is the delivery of a paradox so obvious as +to be detected--after a brief consideration--by an Englishman or +even--after an additional space for thought--by a Scotsman. But where +the fun comes in is (in the Irishman's eyes) when the others assume +that the humour of the bull is involuntary; and this is just what the +Englishman has been doing, and what the Irishman has been encouraging +him to do, for centuries. The Englishman is so busy trying to make it +appear that he is cleverer than he really is, he cannot see the humour +of any man trying to make out that he is more stupid than he really +is. Let no one fancy for a moment that the humour of an Irish bull is +involuntary. It is a form of expression that may be due to a peculiar +twist in the Irishman's mind--indeed, every form of humour may be said +to be due to a peculiar twist of the mind--but it is as much a figure +of speech as irony or satire. "Blarney" and "palaver" are other forms +of speech in which the Irish of some generations ago indulged with great +freedom, and both are essentially Irish and essentially humorous, +though occasionally borrowed and clumsily worn on the other side of +the Channel, just as the bernous of the Moor is worn by an English +missionary when lecturing in the village schoolroom (with a +magic-lantern) on The Progress of Christianity in Morocco. + +It would be interesting to make a scientific inquiry into the origin and +the maintenance of all these forms of expression among the Irish; but it +is unnecessary to do so in this place. It is enough if we remind English +readers of the existence of such forms even in the present day, when +there is so little need for their display. It can without difficulty be +understood by any one, however superficially acquainted with the history +of Ireland for the past thousand years, that "blarney" and "palaver" +were as necessary to the existence of the natives of the island as +suspicion and vigilance were to the existence of the invaders. But it is +not so apparent why Irishmen should be given to rush into the extremes +of bragging on the one hand, and self-depreciation on the other. +Bragging is, however, as much an endowment of Nature for the protection +of a species or a race as is imitation or mimicry. The Irishman who was +able by the exercise of this gift to intimidate the invaders, escaped a +violent death and transmitted his art to his children. The practice of +the art of self-depreciation was quite as necessary for the existence of +the Irish race up to the time of the passing of the first Land Act. +For several generations an Irishman was not allowed to own a horse +of greater value than five pounds; and every Irish agriculturist who +improved the miserable cabin which he was supposed to share with his +pigs and his fowl, might rest certain that his rent would be raised out +of all proportion to his improvements. In these circumstances it can +easily be understood that it was accounted a successful joke for a man +who was doing tolerably well to put on a poor face when in the presence +of an inquiry agent of the absent landlord--to run down all his own +efforts and to depreciate generally his holding, and thus to save +himself from the despicable treatment which was meted out to the +unfortunate people by the conquerors of their country. + +It is not necessary to do more than make these suggestions to a +scientific investigator who may be disposed to devote some time to the +question of the origin of certain forms of Irish humour; it is enough +for us, in considering the mystery of that typical Irishman, Oliver +Goldsmith, to know that such forms of humour as we have specified have +an actual existence. Such knowledge is a powerful illuminant to a reader +of Boswell's and Beattie's stories of the stupidity of Goldsmith. A fine +flood of light is thrown upon the apparent mystery of the inspiration +of this idiot--of this man "who wrote like an angel and talked like poor +poll." + +Goldsmith was just too successful in maintaining that gravity which is +the very essence of those forms of humour in which he was constantly +indulging for his own satisfaction; the mask of gravity was such a good +fit that the short-sighted people who were around him never penetrated +it. He was making fools of the people about him, never giving a thought +to the possibility that they would transmit to posterity the impression +which his attitude conveyed to them, which was that he was a shallow +fool. + +Of course, it would be as absurd to contend that Goldsmith never made a +fool of himself as it would be to assume that Johnson never made a fool +of himself, or that Boswell ever failed to do so. The occasions upon +which he made himself ridiculous must have been numerous, but out of the +many incidents which Boswell and Beattie and Cooke and the others bring +forward as proofs of his stupidity there are few that will not bear to +be interpreted as instances of his practice of a form of humour well +known in Ireland. If his affectation of chagrin at the admiration given +to the Panton Street puppets, followed by the boast, "I could do it as +well myself," was not humorous, then indeed there is nothing humorous +under the sun. If his object of setting the room roaring with laughter +was not achieved the night when at the club he protested that the +oratory of Burke was nothing--that all oratory, as a matter of fact, was +only a knack--and forthwith stood upon a chair and began to stutter, +all that can be said is that the famous club at Gerrard Street was more +stolid than could be believed. If his strutting about the room where he +and his friends were awaiting a late-comer to dinner, entreating +Johnson and the rest to pay particular attention to the cut of his new +peach-bloom coat, and declaring that Filby, his tailor, had told him +that when any one asked him who had made the garment he was not to +forget Filby's address, did not help materially to enliven the tedium +of that annoying wait, all that can be said is that Thrale, as well as +Boswell, must have been of the party. + +If a novelist, anxious to depict a typical humorous Irishman, were to +show his hero acting as Boswell says Goldsmith acted, would not every +reader acknowledge that he was true to the character of a comical +Irishman? If a playwriter were to put the scene on the stage, would +any one in the audience fail to see that the Goldsmith of the piece was +fooling? Every one in the club--Boswell best of all--was aware of the +fact that Goldsmith had the keenest admiration for Burke, and that +he would be the last man in the world to decry his powers. As for the +peach-bloom coat, it had been the butt of much jesting on the part of +his friends; the elder of the Miss Hornecks had written him a letter of +pretty "chaff" about it, all of which he took in good part. He may have +bought the coat originally because he liked the tint of the velvet; but +assuredly when he found that it could be made the subject of a jest he +did not hesitate to jest upon it himself. How many times have we not +seen in Ireland a man behave in exactly the same way under similar +conditions--a boisterous young huntsman who had put on pink for the +first time, and was strutting with much pride before an admiring group +of servants, every one of whom had some enthusiastic remark to make +about the fit of the coat, until at last the youth, pointing out the +perfection of the gilt buttons, murmured: "Oh, but isn't this a great +day for Ireland!" + +What a pity it was that Mr. Boswell had not been present at such a +scene! Can we not hear his comments upon the character of the young man +who had actually been so carried away by his vanity that he was heard to +express the opinion that the fortunes of his country would be materially +affected by the fact of the buttons of his new coat being gilt? (It +was this same Mr. Boswell, the critic of Goldsmith's all too attractive +costume, who, when going to see Pitt for the first time, put on Corsican +native dress, pretending that he did so in order to interest Pitt in +General Paoli.) + +In reading these accounts of Goldsmith's ways and the remarks of his +associates it must be noticed that some of these gentlemen had now and +again an uneasy impression that there was more in the poet's stupidity +than met the eye. Sir Joshua Reynolds was his closest friend, and it was +the business of the painter to endeavour to get below the surface of +his sitters. The general idea that prevails in the world is that he +was rather successful in his attempts to reproduce, not merely their +features, but their characters as well; and Sir Joshua saw enough +beneath the rude exterior of the man to cause him to feel toward +Goldsmith as he felt for none of his other friends. When the news of his +death was brought to the painter, he laid down his brushes and spent the +day in seclusion. When it is remembered that he spent every day of the +week, not even excepting Sunday, in his studio, the depth of his grief +for the loss of his friend will be understood. Upon more than one +occasion Reynolds asserted that Goldsmith was diverting himself by +trying to make himself out to be more stupid than he really was. Malone, +whose judgment was rarely at fault, whether it was exercised in the +detection of fraud or in the discovery of genius, was in perfect +agreement with Reynolds on this point, and was always ready to +affirm that Boswell was unjust in his remarks upon Goldsmith and the +conclusions to which he came in respect of his character. It is not +necessary for one to have an especially vivid imagination to enable one +to see what was the expression on Malone's face when he came upon the +patronising passage in the _Life of Johnson_ in which Boswell stated +that for his part he was always glad to hear "honest Dr. Goldsmith" +converse. "Puppy!" cried Johnson upon one occasion when a certain +commentator had patronised a text out of all recognition. What would he +have said had he heard Goldsmith patronised by Boswell? + +So far as Goldsmith's actual vanity is concerned, all that can be said +at this time is that had it existed in the offensive form which it +assumes in some of Boswell's stories, Goldsmith would never have won +the friendship of those men and women who were his friends before he had +made a reputation for himself by the publication of _The 'Traveller_. +If he had had an extravagant opinion of his own capacity as a poet, +he would certainly never have suffered Johnson to make an attempt to +improve upon one of his poems; but Goldsmith not only allowed him to do +so, but actually included the lines written by Johnson when he published +the poem. Had he been eaten up by vanity, he would not have gone +wandering down the Mall in St. James's Park while his comedy was being +played for the first time before a delighted house. The really vain man +was the author of The Vanity of Human Wishes, who bought the showiest +set of garments he could find and sat in all their glory in the front +row of the boxes on the night when Garrick produced his tragedy of +_Irene_--Garrick whom he kept out of the Club for nine years simply +because the actor had expressed a wish to become one of the original +members. The really vain man was the one who made his stock story his +account of his conversation with the King in the Royal Library. Every +one sees this now, and every one saw it, except Boswell, when the _Life_ +was flung in the face of a convulsed public, for the public of the year +1791 were as little aware of the real value of the book as the author +was of the true character of his hero and his hero's friend Goldsmith. + +After all, there would be no better way of arriving at a just conclusion +on the subject of Goldsmith's stupidity than by submitting the whole +of the case to an ordinary man accustomed to the many peculiarities of +Irishmen, especially in the exercise of their doubtful gift of humour. +"Here is a man," we must say, "who became the most intimate friend of +people of title and the dearest friend of many men of brains. When the +most exclusive Club of the day was started his place as a member was not +disputed, even by the man who invented the word 'clubbable,' and knew +what it meant into the bargain; when the Royal Academy of Arts was +started he was invited to become one of its professors. Some of the +wittiest things recorded by the most diligent recorder of witty things +that the world has ever known, were uttered by him. Upon one occasion +when walking among the busts of the poets in Westminster Abbey with a +friend, the latter pointing around said: + +"'_Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis_.' + +"Leaving the Abbey and walking down the Strand to Temple Bar they saw +the heads of the men who had been captured and decapitated for taking +part in the Rebellion of the year 1745, bleaching in the winds in +accordance with the terms of the sentence for high treason. + +"'_Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis_,' murmured the man of +whom we speak. Upon another occasion this same friend of his, who had a +unique reputation for speaking in the most ponderous language, even when +dealing with the simplest matters, asserted that the writing of the +dialogue in some recently published fables where fish were represented +as conversing, was very simple. 'Not so simple at all,' said the other, +'for were you to write them, you would make every minnow talk like a +whale.' + +"In the course of a few years, in addition to compiling histories, which +remained standard educational works for more than a century, and several +other books, he wrote a novel which received the highest praise from the +greatest intellects in Europe, and which is still read with delight by +thousands of people of all nationalities; a poem of which almost every +line is quoted daily in conversation--a poem which contains metaphors +that have been repeated for generations in the Senate, in the Court of +Law, and in the Church; and a play which has been pronounced the truest +comedy in the English language. He died at an early age, and a memorial +of his genius was given a place in Westminster Abbey. The inscription +was written by the most distinguished man of letters in England, and +although highly eulogistic, was considered by the greatest painter in +the world and the greatest orator in the world to fall short of doing +justice to the subject. + +"But, on the other hand, the man of whom we speak was said by a +Scotchman, who himself was occasionally referred to as a cur and +sometimes as an ape, and more than once as a coxcomb, to have been +roused to a frenzy of envy, because some officers, passing through a +square in a French town, looked admiringly at two lovely girls who +were at a window, ignoring him at another window; and again because his +friends spoke with favour of the dexterity of a wooden figure dressed +as a soldier, and yet again (on another authority) because one of +his friends read a passage from Shakespeare, and affirmed that it was +magnificent. Now, would you say," we should ask the authority to whom we +are supposed to be stating a case--"would you say that this man was in +earnest when, in the first of the instances quoted, he walked up and +down the room in the French hotel asserting 'that although the young +ladies, of whom he was extremely fond, might have their admirers, there +were places where he, too, was given admiration'? Would you say that he +showed ill-temper or wit when, in the second instance, he declared with +warmth that he could toss a halbert quite as well as any wooden figure? +Would you say that----" + +But we should not get any further than this in stating our case to a man +acquainted with the Irish and their humour: he would think that we were +taking a leaf out of the book of Irish humour, and endeavouring to fool +him by asking him to pronounce a grave opinion upon the obvious; he +would not stay to give us a chance of asking him whether he thought that +the temptation of making "Noll" rhyme with "Poll," was not too great to +be resisted by the greatest farceur of his time, in the presence of a +humorous colleague called Oliver; and whether an impecunious but witty +Irishman begged his greatest friend not to give him the nickname of +Goldy, because his dignity was hurt thereby, or simply because it was +tantalising for one to be called "Goldy," whose connection with gold was +usually so transitory. + +If people will only read the stories told of poor Goldsmith's vanity, +and envy, and coxcombry, with a handbook of Irish humour beside them, +the conclusion to which they will come must, we think, be that Goldsmith +was an Irishman, and that, on the whole, he made very good fun of +Boswell, who was a Scotsman, but that in the long run Boswell got very +much the better of him. Scotsmen usually laugh last. + + + + +THE BEST COMEDY OF THE CENTURY + +HE occupied one room in the farmhouse--the guest-chamber it had +probably been called when the farm was young. It was a pretty spacious +apartment up one pair of stairs and to the right of the landing, +and from its window there was a pleasing prospect of a paddock with +wheat-fields beyond; there was a drop in the landscape in the direction +of Hendon, and here was a little wood. The farmer's name was Selby, +a married man with a son of sixteen, and younger children, and the +farmhouse was the nearest building to the sixth milestone on the Edgware +Road in the year 1771. + +He was invariably alluded to as "The Gentleman," and the name did very +well for him, situated as he was in the country; in the town and among +his acquaintances it would serve badly as a means of identification. He +was never referred to as "The Gentleman" of his circle. In his room in +the farmhouse there was his bed and table--a large table littered with +books; it took two chaises to carry his books hither from his rooms in +the Temple. Here he sat and wrote the greater part of the day, and when +he was very busy he would scarcely be able to touch the meals which were +sent up to him from the kitchen. But he was by no means that dignified +type of the man of letters who would shrink from fellowship with the +farmer or his family. He would frequently come down his stairs into +the kitchen and stand with his back to the fire, conversing with the +housewife, and offering her his sympathy when she had made him aware of +the fact that the privilege of being the wife of a substantial farmer, +though undoubtedly fully recognised by the world, carried many troubles +in its train, not only in connection with the vicissitudes of churning, +but in regard to the feeding of the calves, which no man could attend +to properly, and the making of the damson and cowslip wine. He told +her that the best maker of cowslip wine whom he had ever met was a +Mrs. Primrose; her husband had at one time occupied the Vicarage of +Wakefield--he wondered if Mrs. Selby had ever heard of her. Mrs. Selby's +knowledge did not go so far, but she thought that Mrs. Primrose's recipe +must be a good one indeed if it brought forth better results than her +own; and the gentleman said that although he had never tasted Mrs. +Selby's he would still have no hesitation in backing it for flavour, +body, headiness, and all other qualities associated with the +distillation of the cowslip, against the Primrose brand. + +And then he would stare at the gammon in the rafter and mutter some +words, burst into a roar of laughter, and stumble upstairs to his +writing, leaving the good woman to thank Heaven that she was the wife of +a substantial farmer and not of an unsubstantial gentleman of letters, +who could not carry on a simple conversation without having some queer +thought fly across his brain for all the world like one of the swallows +on the water at Hendon, only maybe a deal harder to catch. She knew that +the gentleman had hurried to his paper and ink to complete the capture +of that fleet-flitting thought which had come to him when he had +cast his eyes toward the gammon, though how an idea worth putting on +paper--after a few muttered words and a laugh--could lurk about a common +piece of hog's-flesh was a mystery to her. + +And then upon occasions the gentleman would take a walk abroad; the +farmer's son had more than once come upon him strolling about the fields +with his hands in his pockets and his head bent toward the ground, still +muttering fitfully and occasionally giving a laugh that made the grey +pad in the paddock look up slowly, still munching the grass. Now and +again he paid a visit to his friend Mr. Hugh Boyd at the village of +Kenton, and once he returned late at night from such a visit, without +his shoes. He had left them in a quagmire, he said, and it was only with +a struggle that he saved himself from being engulfed as well. That +was the story of his shoes which young Selby remembered when he was no +longer young. And there was another story which he remembered, but it +related to his slippers. The fact was that the gentleman had acquired +the bad habit of reading in bed, and the table on which his candlestick +stood being several feet away from his pillow, he saved himself the +trouble of rising to extinguish it by flinging a slipper at it. In the +morning the overturned candle was usually found side by side on the +floor with an unaccountably greasy slipper. This method of discharging +an important domestic duty differed considerably from Johnson's way of +compassing the same end. Johnson, being extremely short-sighted, was +compelled to hold the candle close to the book when reading in bed, so +that he had no need to use his slipper as an extinguisher. No, but he +found his pillow very handy for this purpose. When he had finished his +reading he threw away the book and went asleep with his candle under his +pillow. + +The gentleman at the farm went about a good deal in his slippers, and +with his shirt loose at the collar--the latter must have been but one +of his very customary negligences, or Sir Joshua Reynolds would not +have painted him thus. Doubtless the painter had for long recognised the +interpretative value of this loosened collar above that of the velvet +and silk raiment in which the man sometimes appeared before the +wondering eyes of his friends. + +But if the painter had never had an opportunity of studying the +picturesqueness of his negligence, he had more than one chance of doing +so within the farmhouse. + +Young Selby recollected that upon at least one occasion Sir Joshua, his +friend Sir William Chambers, and Dr. Johnson had paid a visit to the +gentleman who lodged at the farm. He remembered that for that reception +of so distinguished a company the farmhouse parlour had been opened and +tea provided. There must have been a good deal of pleasant talk between +the gentleman and his friends at this time, and probably young Selby +heard an astonishingly loud laugh coming from the enormous visitor with +the brown coat and the worsted stockings, as the gentleman endeavoured +to tell his guests something of the strange scenes which he was +introducing in the comedy he was writing in that room upstairs. It was +then a comedy without a name, but young Selby heard that it was produced +the following year in London and that it was called _She Stoops to +Conquer_. + +This was the second year that the gentleman had spent at the farm. The +previous summer he had been engaged on another work which was certainly +as comical as the comedy. It was called _Animated Nature_, and it +comprised some of the most charmingly narrated errors in Natural History +ever offered to the public, and the public have always been delighted +to read pages of fiction if it is only called "Natural History." This is +one of the best-established facts in the history of the race. After all, +_Animated Nature_ was true to half its title: every page was animated. + +It was while he was so engaged, with one eye on Buffon and another on +his MS., that he found Farmer Selby very useful to him. Farmer Selby +knew a great deal about animals--the treatment of horses under various +conditions, and the way to make pigs pay; he had probably his theories +respecting the profit to be derived from keeping sheep, and how to +feed oxen that are kept for the plough. All such knowledge he must have +placed at the disposal of the author, though the farmer was possibly too +careless an observer of the simple incidents of the fields to be able to +verify Buffon's statement, reproduced in Animated Nature, to the effect +that cows shed their horns every two years; he was probably also +too deficient in the spirit in which a poet sets about the work of +compilation to be able to assent to the belief that a great future +was in store for the zebra when it should become tame and perform the +ordinary duties of a horse. But if the author was somewhat discouraged +in his speculations now and again by Farmer Selby, he did not allow his +fancy as a naturalist to be wholly repressed. He had heard a story of +an ostrich being ridden horsewise in some regions, and of long journeys +being accomplished in this way in incredibly short spaces of time, and +forthwith his imagination enabled him to see the day when this bird +would become as amenable to discipline as the barn-door fowl, though +discharging the tasks of a horse, carrying its rider across England with +the speed of a racer! + +It was while he was engaged on this pleasant work of fancy and +imagination that Mr. Boswell paid him a visit, bringing with him as a +witness Mr. Mickle, the translator of the Lusiad. "The Gentleman" had +gone away for the day, Mrs. Selby explained; but she did not know Mr. +Boswell. She could not prevent him from satisfying his curiosity in +respect of Dr. Goldsmith. He went upstairs to his room, and he was fully +satisfied. He found the walls all scrawled over with outline drawings of +quite a number of animals. Having thus satisfied himself that the author +of _Animated Nature_ was working in a thoroughly conscientious manner he +came away. He records the incident himself, but he does not say whether +or not he was able to recognise any of the animals from their pictures. + +But now it was a professed and not an unconscious comedy that occupied +Dr. Goldsmith. Whatever disappointment he may have felt at the +indifferent success of the first performance of _The Good-Natured +Man_--and he undoubtedly felt some--had been amply redeemed by the money +which accrued to him from the "author's rights" and the sale of the +play; and he had only awaited a little encouragement from the managers +to enable him to begin another comedy. But the managers were not +encouraging, and he was found by his friends one day to be full of +a scheme for the building of a new theatre for the production of new +plays, in order that the existing managers might not be able to carry +on their tyranny any longer. Such a scheme has been revived every decade +since Goldsmith's time, but never with the least success. Johnson, +whose sound sense was rarely at fault, laughed at the poet's project for +bringing down the mighty from their seats, upon which Goldsmith cried: +"Ay, sir, this matter may be nothing to you who can now shelter yourself +behind the corner of your pension," and he doubtless went on to describe +the condition of the victims of the tyranny of which he complained; but +it is questionable if his doing so effected more than to turn Johnson's +laughter into another and a wider channel. + +But Goldsmith spoke feelingly. He was certainly one of the ablest +writers of the day, but no pension was ever offered to him, though on +every hand bounties were freely bestowed on the most indifferent and +least deserving of authors--men whose names were forgotten before +the end of the century, and during the lifetime of the men themselves +remembered only by the pay clerk to the almoner. + +Of course, the scheme for bringing the managers to their senses never +reached a point of serious consideration; and forthwith Goldsmith began +to illustrate, for the benefit of posterity, the depths to which the +stupidity of the manager of a play-house can occasionally fall. The +public have always had abundant proofs of the managers' stupidity +afforded them in the form of the plays which they produce; but the +history of the production of the most brilliant comedy of the eighteenth +century is practically unique; for it is the history of the stupidity of +a manager doing his best to bring about the failure of a play which he +was producing at his own theatre. He had predicted the failure of the +piece, and it must strike most people that the manager of a theatre who +produces for a failure will be as successful in compassing his end as +a jockey who rides for a fall. Colman believed that he was in the +fortunate position of those prophets who had the realisation of their +predictions in their own hands. He was mistaken in this particular +case. Although he was justified on general principles in assuming his +possession of this power, yet he had made no allowance for the freaks +of genius. He was frustrated in his amiable designs by this incalculable +force--this power which he had treated as a _quantit ngligeable_. A +man who has been accustomed all his life to count only on simple ability +in the people about him, is, on suddenly being brought face to face with +genius, like an astronomer who makes out his tables of a new object on +the assumption that it is a fixed star, when all the time it is a comet, +upsetting by its erratic course all his calculations, and demanding to +be reckoned with from a standpoint that applies to itself alone. + +The stars of Colman's theatrical firmament were such as might safely be +counted on; but Goldsmith's genius was not of this order. The manager's +stupidity lay in his blunt refusal to recognise a work of genius when it +was brought to him by a man of genius. + +It has been said that the central idea of the plot of _She Stoops to +Conquer_ was suggested by an incident that came under Goldsmith's notice +before he left Ireland. However this may be, it cannot be denied +that the playing of the practical joke of Tony Lumpkin upon the two +travellers is "very Irish." It would take a respectable place in the +list of practical jokes of the eighteenth century played in Ireland. In +that island a collector of incidents for a comedy during the past two +centuries would require to travel with a fat notebook--so would the +collector of incidents for a tragedy. Goldsmith's task may not have been +to invent the central idea, but to accomplish the much more difficult +duty of making that incident seem plausible, surrounding it with +convincing scenery and working it out by the aid of the only characters +by which it could be worked out with a semblance of being natural. This +was a task which genius only could fulfil. The room whose walls bore +ample testimony to its occupant's sense of the comedy of a writer's +life, witnessed the supreme achievement in the "animated nature" of +_She Stoops to Conquer_. It contains the two chief essentials to a true +comedy--animation and nature. + +It is certain that the play was constructed and written by Goldsmith +without an adviser. He was possibly shrewd enough to know that if +he were to take counsel with any of his friends--Garrick, Johnson, +Reynolds, or Colman--he would not be able to write the play which he had +a mind to write. The artificial comedy had a vogue that year, and though +it may have been laughed at in private by people of judgment, yet few of +those within the literary circle of which Johnson was the acknowledged +centre, would have had the courage to advise a poet writing a piece in +hopes of making some money, to start upon a plot as farcical as Nature +herself. At that period of elegance in art everything that was natural +was pronounced vulgar. Shakespeare himself had to be made artificial +before he could be played by Garrick. Goldsmith must have known that his +play would be called vulgar, and that its chances of being accepted and +produced by either of the managers in London would be doubtful; but, all +the same, he wrote the piece in accordance with his own personal views, +and many a time during the next two years he must have felt that he was +a fool for doing so. + +However this may be, the play was finished some time in the summer +of 1771; and on September 7th the author was back at his rooms in the +Temple and writing to his friend Bennet Langton, whom he had promised +to visit at his place in Lincolnshire. "I have been almost wholly in the +country at a farmer's house, quite alone, trying to write a comedy. It +is now finished, but when or how it will be acted, or whether it will be +acted at all, are questions I cannot resolve," he told Langton. + +[Illustration: 0241] + +The misgivings which he had at this time were well founded. He +considered that the fact of his having obtained from Colman a promise to +read any play that he might write constituted an obligation on his part +to submit this piece to Colman rather than to Garrick. He accordingly +placed it in Colman's hands; but it is impossible to say if the work of +elaborate revision which Goldsmith began in the spring of 1772 was +due to the comments made by this manager on the first draft or to the +author's reconsideration of his work as a whole. But the amended version +was certainly in Colman's hands in the summer of this year (1772). +The likelihood is that Colman would have refused point-blank to have +anything to do with the comedy after he had read the first draft had it +not been that just at this time Goldsmith's reputation was increased +to a remarkable extent by the publication of his Histories. It would be +difficult to believe how this could be, but, as usual, we are indebted +to Mr. Boswell for what information we have on this point. Boswell had +been for some time out of London, and on returning he expressed his +amazement at the celebrity which Goldsmith had attained. "Sir," he cried +to Johnson, "Goldsmith has acquired more fame than all the officers last +war who were not generals!" + +"Why, sir," said Johnson, "you will find ten thousand fit to do what +they did before you find one who does what Goldsmith has done"--a bit of +dialogue that reminds one of the reply of the avaricious _prima donna_ +when the Emperor refused to accede to her terms on the plea that were +he to pay her her price she would be receiving more than any of his +marshals. "Eh bien, mon sire. Let your marshals sing to you." + +At any rate, Colman got the play--and kept it. He would give the author +no straightforward opinion as to its prospects in his hands. He refused +to say when he would produce it--nay, he declined to promise that he +would produce it at all. Goldsmith was thus left in torment for month +after month, and the effect of the treatment that he received was to +bring on an illness, and the effect of his illness was to sink him to a +depth of despondency that even Goldsmith had never before sounded. The +story told by Cooke of his coming upon the unhappy man in a coffeehouse, +and of the latter's attempt to give him some of the details of the plot +of the comedy, speaks for itself. "I shook my head," wrote Cooke, +"and said that I was afraid the audience, under their then sentimental +impressions, would think it too broad and farcical for comedy." This was +poor comfort for the author; but after a pause he shook the man by the +hand, saying piteously: "I am much obliged to you, my dear friend, for +the candour of your opinion, but it is all I can do; for alas! I find +that my genius, if ever I had any, has of late totally deserted me." + +This exclamation is the most piteous that ever came from a man of +genius; and there can be no doubt of the sincerity of its utterance, +for it was during these miserable months that he began a new novel, but +found himself unable to get further than a few chapters. And all this +time, when, in order to recover his health, he should have had no +worries of a lesser nature, he was being harassed by the trivial +cares of a poor, generous man's life--those mosquito vexations which, +accumulating, become more intolerable than a great calamity. + +He had once had great hopes of good resulting from Colman's taking up +the management of Covent Garden, and had written congratulations to him +within the first week of his entering into possession of the theatre. +A very different letter he had now to write to the same man. Colman had +endeavoured to evade the responsibility of giving him a direct answer +about the play. He clearly meant that the onus of refusing it should lie +at the door of some one else. + +"Dear Sir," wrote the author in January, 1773, "I entreat you'll release +me from that state of suspense in which I have been kept for a long +time. Whatever objections you have made or shall make to my play I will +endeavour to remove and not argue about them. To bring in any new judges +either of its merits or faults I can never submit to. Upon a former +occasion when my other play was before Mr. Garrick he offered to bring +me before Mr. Whitehead's tribunal, but I refused the proposal with +indignation. I hope I shall not experience as hard treatment from you +as from him.... For God's sake take the play and let us make the best +of it, and let me have the same measure at least which you have given as +bad plays as mine." + +Upon receiving this letter, Colman at once returned to him the +manuscript of the play, and on the author's unfolding it he found that +on the back of almost every page, on the blank space reserved for +the prompter's hieroglyphs, some sneering criticism was scrawled. To +emphasise this insult Colman had enclosed a letter to the effect that if +the author was still unconvinced that the piece would be a failure, he, +Colman, would produce it. + +Immediately on receipt of this contemptible effort at contempt Goldsmith +packed up the play and sent it to Garrick at Drury Lane. That same +evening, however, he met Johnson and told him what he had done; and +Johnson, whose judgment on the practical side of authorship was rarely +at fault, assured him that he had done wrong and that he must get the +manuscript back without delay, and submit to Colman's sneers for the +sake of having the comedy produced. Upon Johnson's promising to +visit Colman, and to urge upon him the claims of Goldsmith to his +consideration, the distracted author wrote to Drury Lane: + +"Upon more mature deliberation and the advice of a sensible friend, +I begin to think it indelicate in me to throw upon you the odium of +confirming Mr. Colman's sentence. I therefore request that you will send +my play by my servant back; for having been assured of having it acted +at the other house, though I confess yours in every respect more to my +wish, yet it would be folly in me to forgo an advantage which lies in +my power of appealing from Mr. Colman's opinion to the judgment of the +town." + +Goldsmith got back the play, and Johnson explained to him, as he did +some years later to Reynolds, that the solicitations which he had made +to Colman to put it in rehearsal without delay amounted almost to force. +At any rate, the play was announced and the parts distributed to the +excellent company which Colman controlled. It was soon proved that he +controlled some members of this company only too well. The spirit in, +which he set about the discharge of his duties as a manager was apparent +to every one during the earliest rehearsals. Johnson, writing to an +American correspondent, mentioned that Colman made no secret of his +belief that the play would be a failure. Far from it. He seems to have +taken the most extraordinary trouble to spread his belief far and wide; +and when a manager adopts such a course, what chance, one may ask, has +the play? What chance, the players could not but ask, have the players? + +This was possibly the only occasion in the history of the English drama +on which such questions could be asked. If managers have a fault at +all--a question which is not yet ripe for discussion--it has never +been in the direction of depreciating a play which they are about to +produce--that is, of course, outside the author's immediate circle. It +is only when the play has failed that they sometimes allow that it was +a bad one, and incapable of being saved even by the fine acting of the +company and the sumptuous mounting. + +But Colman controlled his company all too well, and after a day or two +it was announced that the leading lady, the accomplished Mrs. Abington, +had retired from the part of Miss Hardcastle; that Smith, known as +Gentleman Smith, had refused to play Young Marlow; and that Woodward, +the most popular comedian in the company, had thrown up the part of Tony +Lumpkin. + +Here, in one day, it seemed that Colman had achieved his aims, and the +piece would have to be withdrawn by the author. This was undoubtedly +the managerial view of the situation which had been precipitated by +the manager, and it was shared by those of the author's friends who +understood his character as indifferently as did Colman. They must all +have been somewhat amazed when the author quietly accepted the situation +and affirmed that he would rather that his play were damned by bad +players than merely saved by good acting. One of the company who had the +sense to perceive the merits of the piece, Shuter, the comedian, who was +cast for the part of old Hardcastle, advised Goldsmith to give Lewes, +the harlequin, the part of Young Marlow; Quick, a great favourite with +the public, was to act Tony Lumpkin; and, after a considerable amount +of wrangling, Mrs. Bulkley, lately Miss Wilford, who had been the +Miss Richland of _The Good-Natured Man_, accepted the part which the +capricious Mrs. Abington resigned. + +Another start was made with the rehearsals of the piece, and further +efforts were made by Colman to bring about the catastrophe which he +had predicted. He refused to let a single scene be painted for the +production, or to supply a single new dress; his ground being that the +money spent in this way would be thrown away, for the audience would +never allow the piece to proceed beyond the second act. + +But happily Dr. Johnson had his reputation as a prophet at stake as well +as Colman, and he was singularly well equipped by Nature for enforcing +his views on any subject. He could not see anything of what was going +on upon the stage; but his laugh at the succession of humorous things +spoken by the company must have had an inspiring effect upon every +one, except Colman. Johnson's laugh was the strongest expression of +appreciation of humour of which the century has a record. It was epic. +To say that Johnson's laugh at the rehearsals of _She Stoops to Conquer_ +saved the piece would perhaps be going too far. But can any one question +its value as a counteracting agent to Colman's depressing influence on +the stage? Johnson was the only man in England who could make Colman +(and every one else) tremble, and his laugh had the same effect upon +the building in which it was delivered. It was the Sirocco against a wet +blanket. When one thinks of the feeling of awe which was inspired by +the name of Dr. Johnson, not only during the last forty years of +the eighteenth century, but well into the nineteenth, one begins to +appreciate the value of his vehement expression of satisfaction upon +the people on the stage. Goldsmith dedicated his play to Johnson, and +assuredly the compliment was well earned. Johnson it was who compelled +Colman to produce the piece, and Johnson it was who encouraged the +company to do their best for it, in spite of the fact that they were +all aware that their doing their best for it would be resented by their +manager. + +Reynolds also, another valuable friend to the author, sacrificed several +of his busiest hours in order to attend the rehearsals. His sister's +sacrifices to the same end were perhaps not quite so impressive, nor +were those made by that ingenious "country gentleman," Mr. Cradock, +referred to by Walpole. Miss Horneck, his beautiful "Jessamy Bride," +and her sister, lately married to Mr. Bunbury, bore testimony to the +strength of their friendship for the poet, by accompanying him daily to +the theatre. + +But, after all, these good friends had not many opportunities of +showing their regard for him in the same way; for the play must have had +singularly few rehearsals. Scarcely a month elapsed between the date of +Colman's receiving the manuscript on its being returned by Garrick and +the production of the piece. It is doubtful if more than ten rehearsals +took place after the parts were recast. If the manager kept the author +in suspense for eighteen months respecting the fate of his play, he +endeavoured to make up for his dilatoriness now. It was announced for +Monday, March 15th, and, according to Northcote, it was only on the +morning of that day that the vexed question of what the title should be +was settled. For some time the author and his friends had been talking +the matter over. "We are all in labour for a name to Goldy's play," +wrote Johnson. _The Mistakes of a Night, The Old House a New Inn, and +The Belle's Stratagem_ were suggested in turn. It was Goldsmith himself +who gave it the title under which it was produced. + +On the afternoon of this day, March 15th, the author was the guest at +a dinner-party organised in his honour. It is easy to picture this +particular function. The truth was that Colman's behaviour had broken +the spirit not only of the author, but of the majority of his friends +as well. They would all make an effort to cheer up poor Goldsmith; but +every one knows how cheerless a function is one that is organised with +such charitable intentions. It is not necessary that one should have +been in a court of law watching the face of the prisoner in the dock +when the jury have retired to consider their verdict in order to +appreciate the feelings of Goldsmith when his friends made their attempt +to cheer him up. The last straw added on to the cheerlessness of the +banquet was surely to be found in the accident that every one wore +black! The King of Sardinia had died a short time before, and the Court +had ordered mourning to be worn for some weeks for this potentate. +Johnson was very nearly outraging propriety by appearing in coloured +raiment, but George Steevens, who called for him to go to the dinner, +was fortunately in time to prevent such a breach of etiquette. "I would +not for ten pounds have seemed so retrograde to any general observance," +cried Johnson in offering his thanks to his benefactor. Happily the +proprieties were saved; but what must have been the effect of the +appearance of these gentlemen in black upon the person whom they meant +to cheer up! + +Reynolds told his pupil, Northcote, what effect these resources of +gaiety had upon Goldsmith. His mouth became so parched that he could +neither eat nor drink, nor could he so much as speak in acknowledgment +of the well-meant act of his friends. When the party after this +entertainment set out for the theatre they must have suggested, all +being in black, a more sombre procession than one is accustomed to +imagine when conjuring up a picture of an eighteenth-century theatre +party. + +And Goldsmith was missing! + +Unfortunately Boswell was not present, or we should not be left in doubt +as to how it happened that no one thought of taking charge of Goldsmith. +But no one seemed to think of him, and so his disappearance was never +noticed. His friends arrived at the theatre and found their places, +Johnson in the front row of the boxes; and the curtain was rung up, +and Goldsmith was forgotten under the influence of that comedy which +constitutes his greatest claim to be remembered by theatre-goers of +to-day. + +He was found by an acquaintance a couple of hours later wandering in the +Mall of St. James's Park, and was only persuaded to go to the theatre by +its being represented to him that his services might be required should +it be found necessary to alter something at the last moment. + +Now, among the members of that distinguished audience there was a man +named Cumberland. He was the author of _The West Indian_ and several +other plays, and he was regarded as one of the leaders of the +sentimental school, the demise of which was satirised in the prologue to +this very play which was being performed. Cumberland was a man who could +never see a particle of good in anything that was written by another. It +was a standing entertainment with Garrick to "draw him on" by suggesting +that some one had written a good scene in a play, or was about to +produce an interesting book. In a moment Cumberland was up, protesting +against the assumption that the play or the book could be worth +anything. So wide a reputation had he for decrying every other author +that when Sheridan produced _The Critic; or, the Tragedy Rehearsed_, his +portrait was immediately recognised in Sir Fretful Plagiary. + +What must have been the feelings of this man when, from the first, the +play, which he had come to wreck, was received by the whole house with +uproarious applause? Well, we don't know what he felt like, but we know +what he looked like. One of the newspapers described him as "looking +glum," and another contained a rhymed epigram describing him as weeping. +Goldsmith entered the theatre by the stage door at the beginning of the +fifth act, where Tony Lumpkin and his mother appear close to their +own house, and the former pretends that the chaise has broken down on +Crackscull Common. He had no sooner got into the "wings" than he heard +a hiss. "What's that, sir?" he whispered to Colman, who was beside him. +"Psha, sir! what signifies a squib when we have been sitting on a barrel +of gunpowder all night?" was the reply. The story is well known; and +its accuracy has never been im peached. And the next day it was well +known that that solitary hiss came from Cumberland, the opinion that +it was due to the malevolence of Macpherson, whose pretensions to the +discovery of _Ossian_ were exposed by Johnson, being discredited. + +But the effect of Colman's brutality and falsehood into the bargain had +not a chance of lasting long. The hiss was received with cries of "Turn +him out!" and, with an addition to the tumultuous applause of all the +house, Goldsmith must have been made aware in another instant of the +fact that he had written the best comedy of the day and that Colman had +lied to him. From the first there had been no question of sitting on a +barrel of gunpowder. Such applause could never greet the last act of a +play the first four acts of which had been doubtful. He must have felt +that at last he had conquered--that he had by one more achievement +proved to his own satisfaction--and he was hard to satisfy--that those +friends of his who had attributed genius to him had not been mistaken; +that those who, like Johnson and Percy and Reynolds, had believed in +him before he had written the work that made him famous, had not been +misled. + +The next day all London was talking of _She Stoops to Conquer_ and of +Colman. Horace Walpole, who detested Goldsmith, and who found when +he went to see the play that it was deplorably vulgar, mentioned in a +letter which he wrote to Lady Ossory on the morning after the production +that it had "succeeded prodigiously," and the newspapers were full of +epigrams at the expense of the manager. If Colman had had the sense to +keep to himself his forebodings of the failure of the piece, he would +not have left himself open to these attacks; but, as has been said, he +took as much pains to decry the coming production as he usually did to +"puff" other pieces. It would seem that every one had for several +days been talking about nothing else save the coming failure of Dr. +Goldsmith's comedy. Only on this assumption can one now understand the +poignancy of the "squibs"--some of them partook largely of the character +of his own barrel of gunpowder--levelled against Colman. He must have +been quite amazed at the clamour that arose against him; it became too +much for his delicate skin, and he fled to Bath to get out of the way +of the scurrilous humourists who were making him a target for their +pop-guns. But even at Bath he failed to find a refuge. Writing to Mrs. +Thrale, Johnson said: "Colman is so distressed with abuse that he has +solicited Goldsmith to take him off the rack of the newspapers." + +It was characteristic of Goldsmith that he should do all that was +asked of him and that he should make no attempt, either in public or in +private, to exult in his triumph over the manager. The only reference +which he made to his sufferings while Colman was keeping him on the rack +was in a letter which he wrote to his friend Cradock, who had written an +epilogue for the play, to explain how it was that this epilogue was not +used at the first representation. After saying simply, "The play has +met with a success beyond your expectation or mine," he makes his +explanation, and concludes thus: "Such is the history of my stage +adventure, and which I have at last done with. I cannot help saying +that I am very sick of the stage, and though I believe I shall get +three tolerable benefits, yet I shall on the whole be a loser, even in +a pecuniary light; my ease and comfort I certainly lost while it was in +agitation." + +Goldsmith showed that he bore no grudge against Colman; but the English +stage should bear him a grudge for his treatment of one of the few +authors of real genius who have contributed to it for the benefit of +posterity. If _She Stoops to Conquer_ had been produced when it first +came into the manager's hands, Goldsmith would certainly not have +written the words just quoted. What would have been the result of +his accepting the encouragement of its production it is, of course, +impossible to tell; but it is not going too far to assume that the +genius which gave the world _The Good-Natured Man_ and _She Stoops to +Conquer_ would have been equal to the task of writing a third comedy +equal in merit to either of these. Yes, posterity owes Colman a grudge. + + + + +THE JESSAMY BRIDE + +A PERSONAL NOTE + +FOR some time after the publication of my novel _The Jessamy Bride_ +my time was fully occupied by replying to correspondents--strangers +to me--who were good enough to take an interest in Mary Horneck, the +younger of the two charming sisters with whom Goldsmith associated +for several years of his life on terms of the warmest affection. The +majority of these communications were of a very interesting character. +Only one correspondent told me I should not have allowed Oliver +Goldsmith to die so young, though two expressed the opinion that I +should have made Goldsmith marry Mary Horneck; nearly all the remaining +communications which were addressed to me contained inquiries as to the +origin of the sobriquet applied to Mary Horneck in Goldsmith's epistle. +To each and to all such inquiries I have, alas! been compelled to return +the humiliating reply that I have not yet succeeded in finding out what +was the origin of the family joke which made Goldsmith's allusions to +"The Jessamy Bride" and "Little Comedy" intelligible to the "Devonshire +Crew" of Hornecks and Reynoldses. I have searched volume after volume +in the hope of having even the smallest ray of light thrown upon this +matter, but I have met with no success. I began to feel, as every post +brought me a sympathetic inquiry as to the origin of the pet name, +that I should take the bold step of confessing my ignorance to the one +gentleman who, I was confident, could enlighten it. "If Dr. Brewer does +not know why Mary Horneck was called 'The Jessamy Bride,' no one alive +can know it," was what I said to myself. Before I could write to +Dr. Brewer the melancholy new's came of his death; and very shortly +afterwards I got a letter from his daughter, Mrs. Brewer Hayman, in +which she mentioned that her lamented father had been greatly interested +in my story, and asked if I could tell her what was the meaning of the +phrase. + +It does certainly seem extraordinary that no biographer of Goldsmith, +of Reynolds, or of Burke, should have thought it worth while writing a +letter to the "Jessamy Bride" herself to ask her why she was so called +by Goldsmith. The biographers of Goldsmith and the editors of Boswell +seem to have had no hesitation in stating that Mary Horneck was the +"Jessamy Bride," and that her elder sister was "Little Comedy"; but +they do not appear to have taken a wider view of their duties than was +comprised in this bare statement. The gossipy Northcote was surely in +the secret, and he might have revealed the truth without detracting from +the interest of the many inaccuracies in his volume. Northcote had +an opportunity of seeing daily the portrait of Mary which Sir Joshua +painted, and which hung in his studio until the day of his death, when +it passed into the possession of the original, who had become Mrs. Gwyn, +having married Colonel, afterwards General, Gwyn. + +But although up to the present I have not obtained even as much evidence +as would be termed a clue by the sanguine officers of Scotland Yard, as +to the origin of the sobriquet, I am not without hope that some day one +of my sympathetic correspondents will be able to clear up the matter for +me. I am strengthened in this hope by the fact that among those who were +kind enough to write to me, was a lady who can claim relationship +to Mary Horneck, and who did not hesitate to send to me a bundle of +letters, written in the early part of the century by the "Jessamy +Bride" herself, with permission to copy and print any portion of the +correspondence that I might consider of interest. Of this privilege I +gladly avail myself, feeling sure that the interest which undoubtedly +attaches to many portions of the letters will exculpate me for the +intrusion of a personal note into these papers. + +The grandfather of my correspondent (Mrs. Cor-ballis, of Ratrath, co. +Meath, Ireland) was first cousin to the Hornecks. He was the Rev. George +Mangles, chaplain to George III when Mrs. Gwyn (Mary Horneck) was Woman +of the Bedchamber to the Queen. As General Gwyn was Equerry to the King +it can easily be understood that the two families should be on terms of +the most intimate friendship. My correspondent mentions that her mother, +who only died thirteen years ago, was almost every year a visitor at the +house of Mrs. Gwyn, at Kew, and said that she retained her beauty up +to the very last. Confirmation of this statement is to be found in a +passage in the "Jerningham Letters." Lady Bedingfeld's Journal contains +the following entry opposite the date "September 19th, 1833": + +"When the Queen returned to the drawing-room we found several ladies +there. I observed a very old lady with striking remains of beauty, and +whose features seemed very familiar to me. I felt to know her features +by heart, and at last I heard her name, Mrs. Gwyn, the widow of a +General, and near ninety! I had never seen her before, but when I was a +girl my uncle the Poet, gave me a portrait of her, copied from Sir Jos. +Reynolds, small size in a Turkish costume and attitude. This picture is +still at Cossey, and of course must be very like her since it led me to +find her out." + +[Illustration: 0261] + +The picture referred to must certainly have been "very like" the +original, for it was painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds in 1772, sixty-one +years before. The engraving of it cannot but make one feel how exquisite +must have been the charm of Goldsmith's young friend, who survived him +by sixty-six years; for Mrs. Gywn did not die until 1840. + +Very pathetic indeed it is to look at the sweet girlish face, which +appears in this portrait and also in that of the two sisters done in +chalk by the same master-hand, and then to read some of the passages in +the letters in which the writer refers to her old age and feebleness. +Happily, with Lady Bedingfeld's diary before us, our imagination is not +largely drawn on for a picture of the "Jessamy Bride" broken down by age +and infirmity. The woman who can be easily recognised by a stranger +at seventy-nine by her likeness to a portrait painted at the age of +eighteen, would make Ninon de l'Enclos envious. + +The letters are written to Mrs. Mangles, the widow of the Chaplain +to George III, and the majority touch upon private matters with +sprightliness, and occasionally a delicate humour, such as Goldsmith +would certainly have appreciated. We seem to hear, while reading these +passages, faint echoes of the girlish laughter which must have rung +through that room in the inn at Calais, when Goldsmith paced up and +down in a mock fury because two officers passing the window looked more +eagerly at the girls than at him. + +It is obvious, however, that the Queen's Woman of the Bedchamber would +write occasionally to her friend on some topic of public interest; +consequently we find, in the course of the correspondence, many passages +which throw a flood of light upon the incidents of the day. In a letter +dated April 10th, 1818, + +Mrs. Gwyn describes with great sprightliness the wedding of the +Princess Elizabeth, the third daughter of George III, with Prince +Hesse-Hombourgh, which took place three days before: + +"I delayed to write till after the marriage to tell you about it, as +you seemed to wish it. We were all appointed at seven o'clock in +the evening, when I went as smart as I could make myself. I wore the +lavender sattin robe, the same you saw me wear at Court, as the shape +was the same, and it _saved buying_, trimmed with silver, a new white +sattin petticoat, with a white net and silver over it, no hoop, but a +Court head dress, and lappets down. The Company consisting of the great +officers of state, and ambassadors and their wives, and the different +households were the Company. + +"At 8 all were assembled when the Royal family in procession according +to their rank, went into the great drawing-room in the Queen's house. +The Duke of York led the Queen, the Prince Regent not being quite +recovered of his gout, and it is said the remembrance of his poor +daughter's marriage was too painful to him to undertake it. Before the +state canopy was set a fine communion table, red velvet and gold, all +the gold plate belonging to that service arranged behind it, and 3 +Bishops and other clergymen standing behind the table, it looked very +magnificent. Then came the _Hero_, the Prince Hesse Hombourgh, he went +up to the table and stood there, I believe 10 minutes alone, he looked +well a manly unembarassed figure, then walked in the Bride glittering +with silver and diamonds, and really looked very handsome, and her +behaviour and manner was as well as possible, grace and quiet, when she +knelt she wept, and then he approached nearer her in case her emotion +would require his care, which happily was not the case. The Duke of York +gave her away, and behaved very bad. The Prince Hombourgh thought when +he had said I will very loud and distinct, all was done, but the Arch +Bishop desired him to repeat after him, which he was therefore obliged +to do. He cannot speak English and made such works of it, it was then +the Duke of York laughed so, he was obliged to stuff his handkerchief +in his mouth to conceal it. He promised to love her. When all was over +he saluted his bride on each side the face, and then her hand, with a +good-natured frank manner, then led her to the Queen, whose hand only he +kissed, the rest of the Royal family he embraced after his own fashion, +and he led her off with a very good air, and did not seem to trouble his +head about his _English performance_." The Princess Elizabeth--the shy +young bride who was so overcome with emotion--had scarcely more than +passed her forty-ninth year when she was borne to the altar, and the +hero of the hour was, we learn from other sources than Mrs. Gwyn's +letters, most unheroically sick when driving away in a close carriage +with his bride. + +The Prince Regent's daughter, the Princess Charlotte, had died the +previous year, hence the marrying panic which seized all the other +members of the Royal Family, lest the dynasty should become extinct. It +is pleasing to reflect that such gloomy apprehensions have since been +amply averted. + +Regarding the death of the Princess Charlotte Mrs. Gwyn writes: + +"... While I was at Oatlands the Prince Leopold came to see the Duchess +and staid there 3 hours, no one but the Duchess saw him--she told me he +is more composed in his manners now when seen by people in general but +with her alone his grief seems the same and he is gratified by being +allowed to vent it to one who feels for him and knows how to soothe his +mind. I can not doubt the Princess's life and his child's were thrown +away, by mismanagement--she was so bled and starved she had no strength +left--her own fortitude and energy supported her till nature could no +more. I could tell you much on the subject but it would take up too much +in a letter and besides _it is over_. Dr. Crofts thought he was doing +for the best no doubt--It comes to what _I_ always say of them--they +can't do much and are very often wrong in their opinions as you can +vouch...." + +In another letter Mrs. Gywn's adopted daughter was her amanuensis. It +contains many paragraphs of interest, especially to present-day readers. +The girl writes: + +"Mamma was of course summoned to attend the Duke of Cambridge's Wedding, +but she was not in the room when the Ceremony was performed as before, +on account of the Queen having been ill. Mamma admires the Duchess of +Cambridge very much: though she is not exactly handsome, she is very +pleasing, and a pretty figure, but I understand she must have a new +stay maker to set her up etc. The Duke of Kent and his bride are now +expected. The Duke of Clarence it is expected will be married shortly +afterwards. We hear the Duchess of Kent is a little woman with a +handsome face, and the Duchess of Clarence uncommonly ugly. We went to +Windsor about a month ago to see Princess Sophia as the Queen was not +there, and Princess Sophia has a small party every night. We were there +three days, and Mamma went to the party every evening, and indeed it was +very very dull for her as they play one pool of Commerce, and then they +go to a game called Snip, Snap, Snorum, and which Mamma could not play +at well without a great deal of trouble to herself, therefore she was +obliged to look on for perhaps an hour and half which you may imagine +was terrible for her not hearing a word. I was much pleased in one +respect while I was there by seeing Dear Prince Leopold whom I had +never seen before, and who must be to every body an object of so much +interest. He looked to me the picture of grief and melancholy, but those +who have seen him repeatedly since his misfortune say he improves every +time they see him. Mrs. C.... went one day to see Claremont and was very +much pleased. All remains as Princess Charlotte left it, but nobody sees +her room in which she died but himself, even her combs and brushes are +untouched, and her hat and cloak are where she laid them the day before +she died. There are models of her hand and arm one in particular as it +is his hand clasped in hers. I suppose you have often heard she had a +very beautiful hand and arm, but I will not go on, on so melancholy a +subject; yet I am sure it must interest you." + +The Princess Sophia, who instituted the fascinating game referred to in +this letter, was, of course, the fifth daughter of George III. + +In another letter reference is made to a certain scandal, which Mrs. +Gwyn contradicts most vehemently. Even nowadays this particular bit of +gossip is remembered by some persons; but at the risk of depriving these +pages of the piquancy which attaches to a Court scandal, I will not +quote it, but conclude this Personal Note with what seems to me a most +pathetic account of the dying king: + +"We continue in a state of great anxiety about our dear King, whose +state is distressing. Certainly no hope of recovery, and the chances of +his continuance very doubtful. His death may be any day, any hour, or he +may continue some _little_ time longer, it depends on nature holding +out against sore disease, which afflicts him universally, and occasions +great suffering, this is heartbreaking to hear! and his patience and +courage and sweet and kind behaviour to all about him is most touching, +so affectionate to his friends and attendants, and thankful for their +attention and feeling for him. He will hold the hand of the Duchess of +Gloster or S. H. Halford for an hour at a time out of tenderness, till +excessive suffering ends it. He wishes to die in peace and charity with +all the world, and has reconciled himself to the Duke of Sussex. He +hopes his people have found him a merciful King. He says he never hurt +anyone, and that, he may truly say as his first wish to _all_ was good +and benevolent, and ever ready to forgive." + + + + +THE AMAZING ELOPEMENT + +ON a certain evening in March, 1772, the fashionable folk of Bath +were as earnestly on pleasure bent as they were wont to be at this +season--and every other. The Assembly Rooms were open, a performance was +going on at the theatre, the Cave of Harmony was as musical as Pyrrha's +Grotto, a high-class concert was taking place under the conductorship of +the well-known Mr. Linley, and the Countess of Huntingdon was holding a +prayer meeting. For people who took their diversions _ la carte_, there +was a varied and an abundant menu. Chairs containing precious structures +of feathers, lace, and jewels towering over long faces powdered and +patched and painted _ la mode_, were swinging along the streets in +every direction, some with a brace of gold-braided lackeys by each of +the windows, but others in charge only of the burly chairmen. + +Unobtrusive among the latter class of conveyance was one that a young +gentleman, a tall and handsome lad, called from its rank between +Pierrepont Street and the South Parade. He gave the bearers instructions +to hasten to the house of Mr. Linley in the Crescent, and to inquire if +Miss Linley were ready. + +If she were not, he told them that they were to wait for her and carry +out her directions. The fellows touched their hats and swung off with +their empty chair. + +The young man then went to a livery stable, and putting a few +confidential inquiries to the proprietor, received a few confidential +replies, accentuated by a wink or two, and a certain quick uplifting of +a knuckly forefinger that had an expression of secretiveness of its own. + +"Mum's the word, sir, and mum it shall be," whispered the man. "I stowed +away the trunk, leaving plenty of room for the genuine luggage--lady's +luggage, Mr. Sheridan. You know as well as I can tell you, sir, being +young but with as shrewd knowingness of affairs in general as might be +looked for in the son of Tom Sheridan, to say nought of a lady like your +mother, meaning to take no liberty in the world, Mr. Dick, as they call +you." + +"I'm obliged to you, Denham, and I'll not forget you when this little +affair is happily over. The turn by the 'Bear' on the London Road, we +agreed." + +"And there you'll find the chaise, sir, and as good a pair as ever left +my stable, and good luck to you, sir!" said the man. + +Young Mr. Sheridan then hastened to his father's house in King's Mead +Street, and was met by an anxious sister in the hall. + +"Good news, I hope, Dick?" she whispered. + +"I have been waiting for you all the evening. She has not changed her +mind, I hope." + +"She is as steadfast as I am," said he. "If I could not swear that she +would be steadfast, I would not undertake this business on her behalf. +When I think of our father----" + +"Don't think of him except as applauding your action," said the girl. +"Surely every one with the least spark of generosity will applaud your +action, Dick." + +"I wouldn't like to say so much," said Dick, shaking his head. "Mathews +has his friends. No man could know so much about whist as he does +without having many friends, even though he be a contemptible scoundrel +when he is not employed over a rubber." + +"Who will dare to take the part of Mr. Mathews against you, Dick?" cried +his sister, looking at him proudly as the parlour candles shone upon +him. "I would that I could go with you as far as London, dear, but that +would be impossible." + +"Quite impossible; and where would be the merit in the end?" said Dick, +pacing the room as he believed a man of adventure and enterprise would +in the circumstances. "You may trust to me to place her in safety +without the help of any one." + +"I know it, Dick, I know it, dear, and I am proud of you," said she, +putting her arms about his neck and kissing him. "And look you here, +Dick," she added, in a more practical tone. "Look you here--I find that +I can spare another five pounds out of the last bill that came from +Ireland. We shall live modestly in this house until you return to us." + +He took the coins which she offered to him wrapped up in a twist of +newspaper; but he showed some hesitation--she had to go through a form +of forcing it upon him. + +"I hope to bring it back to you unbroken," he murmured; "but in affairs +of this sort it is safest to have a pound or two over, rather than +under, what is barely needful. That is why I take your coins,--a loan--a +sacred loan. Good-bye, I returned only to say good-bye to you, my +dearest sister." + +"I knew your good heart, Dick, that was why I was waiting for you. +Good-bye, Dick, and God bless you." + +He was putting on his cloak in the hall. He saw that the pistols were +in its pockets, and then he suffered his sister to give him another kiss +before he passed into the dark street. + +He felt for his pistols, and with a hand on each he felt that he was +indeed fairly launched upon a great adventure. + +He made his way to the London road, and all the time he was wondering if +the girl would really come to him in the Sedan chair which he had sent +for her. To be sure she had promised to come upon this evening, but he +knew enough of the great affairs of this world to be well aware of the +fact that the sincerest promise of a maid may be rendered worthless +by the merest freak of Fate. Therefore, he knew that he did well to +be doubtful respecting the realisation of her promise. She was the +beautiful Miss Linley--every one in Bath knew her, and this being so, +was it not likely that some one--some prying person--some impudent +fellow like that Mathews who had been making love to her, although +he had a wife of his own in Wales--might catch a glimpse of her face +through the glass of the chair when passing a lamp or a link, and be +sufficiently curious to follow her chair to see whither she was going? + +That was a likely enough thing to happen, and if it did happen and the +alarm of his flight with her were given, what chance would he have of +carrying out his purpose? Why, the chaise would be followed, and even if +it was not overtaken before London was reached, the resting-place of the +fugitives would certainly be discovered in London, and they should be +ignominiously brought back to Bath. Yes, unless Mathews were the +pursuer, in which case---- + +Mr. Richard Brinsley Sheridan grasped more firmly the butt of the pistol +in the right-hand pocket of his cloak. He felt at that moment that +should Mathews overtake them, the going back to Bath would be on the +part only of Mathews. + +But how would it be if Mr. Linley had become apprised of his daughter's +intention to fly from Bath? He knew very well that Mr. Linley had +the best of reasons for objecting to his daughter's leaving Bath. Mr. +Linley's income was increased by several hundred pounds by reason of the +payments made to him on account of his daughter's singing in public, +and he was--very properly, considering his large family--fond of money. +Before he had to provide for his family, he took good care that his +family--his eldest daughter particularly--helped to provide for him. + +Doubtless these eventualities were suggested to him--for young Mr. +Sheridan was not without imagination--while on his way through the dark +outskirts of the beautiful city to the London Road. The Bear Inn was +just beyond the last of the houses. It stood at the junction of the +London Road and a narrower one leading past a couple of farms. It was +here that he had given instructions for the chaise to wait for him, and +here he meant to wait for the young lady who had promised to accompany +him to London--and further. + +He found the chaise without trouble. It was under the trees not more +than a hundred yards down the lane, but the chair, with Miss Linley, +had not yet arrived, so he returned to the road and began to retrace his +steps, hoping to meet it, yet with some doubts in his mind. Of course, +he was impatient. Young gentlemen under twenty-one are usually impatient +when awaiting the arrival of the ladies who have promised to run away +with them. He was not, however, kept in suspense for an unconscionably +long time. He met the chair which he was expecting just when he had +reached the last of the lamps of Bath, and out of it stepped the muffled +form of Miss Linley. The chairmen were paid with a lavish hand, and Dick +Sheridan and Betsy Linley walked on to the chaise without exchanging any +but a friendly greeting--there was nothing lover-like in their meeting +or their greeting. The elopement was not that of a young woman with her +lover; it was, we are assured, that of a young woman anxious to escape +from the intolerable position of being the most popular person in the +most fashionable city in England, to the peaceful retreat of a convent; +and the young man who was to take charge of her was one whom she had +chosen for her guardian, not for her lover. Dick Sheridan seems to have +been the only young man in Bath who had never made love to Elizabeth +Linley. His elder brother, Charles by name, had discharged this duty on +behalf of the Sheridan family, and he was now trying to live down his +disappointment at being refused, at a farmhouse a mile or two away. The +burden was greater than he could bear when surrounded by his sisters in +their father's house in King's Mead Street. + +[Illustration: 0277] + +Elizabeth Linley was certainly the most popular young woman in Bath; she +certainly was the most beautiful. The greatest painters of her day made +masterpieces of her portrait, and for once, posterity acknowledges that +the fame of her beauty was well founded. So spiritual a face as hers is +to be seen in no eighteenth-century picture except that of Miss Linley; +one has need to go back to the early Italian painters to find such +spirituality in a human face, and then one finds it combined with +absolute inanity, and the face is called Divine. Reynolds painted her as +Saint Cecilia drawing down angels, and blessedly unconscious of her own +powers, thinking only of raising herself among angels on the wings +of song. His genius was never better employed and surely never more +apparent than in the achievement of this picture. Gainsborough painted +her by the side of her younger brother, and one feels that if Reynolds +painted a saint, Gainsborough painted a girl. It was Bishop O'Beirne, +an old friend of her family and acquainted with her since her childhood, +who said: "She is a link between an angel and a woman." + +And this exquisite creature had a voice of so sympathetic a quality that +no one could hear it unmoved. Her father had made her technique perfect. +He was a musician who was something more than painstaking. He had taste +of the highest order, and it is possible to believe that in the training +of his eldest daughter he was wise enough to limit his instruction to +the technicalities of his art, leaving her to the inspiration of her own +genius in regard to the treatment of any theme which he brought before +her. + +At any rate her success in the sublimest of all oratorios was far beyond +anything that could be achieved by an exhibition of the finest technical +qualities; and Mr. Linley soon became aware of the fact that he was the +father of the most beautiful and the most highly gifted creature that +ever made a father miserable. + +Incidentally she made a great many other men miserable, but that was +only because each of them wanted her to make him happy at the expense +of the others, and this she was too kind-hearted to do. But the cause of +her father's grief was something different. It was due to the fact +that the girl was so sensitive that she shrank from every exhibition of +herself and her ability on a public platform. It was an agony to her to +hear the tumultuous applause that greeted her singing at a concert or in +an oratorio. She seemed to feel--let any one look at the face which +is to be seen in her portrait, and one will understand how this could +be--that music was something too spiritual to be made the medium only +for the entertainment of the multitude. Taking the highest imaginable +view of the scope and value and meaning of music, it can be understood +that this girl should shrink from such an ordeal as the concert platform +offered to her every time she was announced to sing. No more frivolous +and fashionable a population than that of Bath in the second half of +the eighteenth century was to be found in any city in the world; and +Elizabeth Linley felt that she was regarded by the concert-goers as no +more than one of the numerous agents they employed to lessen the ennui +of an empty day. The music which she worshipped--the spirit with which +her soul communed in secret--was, she felt, degraded by being sold to +the crowd and subjected to the patronage of their applause. + +Of course when she spoke to her father in this strain he sympathised +with her, and bemoaned the fate that made it necessary for him to +have her assistance to save her mother and brothers and sisters from +starvation. And so for several years she was an obedient child, but +very weary of the rle. She sang and enchanted thousands. She did not, +however, think of them; her mind dwelt daily upon the tens of thousands +who regarded her (she thought) as fulfilling no nobler purpose than to +divert them for half an hour between taking the waters and sitting down +to faro or quadrille. + +But it was not alone her distaste for the publicity of the platform that +made her miserable. The fact was that she was distracted by suitors. She +had, it was said, accepted the offer of an elderly gentleman named Long, +the wealthy head of a county family in the neighbourhood; and Foote, +with his usual vulgarity, which took the form of personality, wrote +a play--a wretched thing even for Foote--in which he dealt with an +imaginarily comic and a certainly sordid situation, with Miss Linley +on the one side and Mr. Long on the other. Serious biographers have not +hesitated to accept this situation invented by the notorious _farceur_, +who was no greater a respecter of persons than he was of truth, as a +valuable contribution to the history of the Linley family, especially +in regard to the love affair of the lovely girl by whose help they were +made famous. They have never thought of the possibility of her having +accepted Mr. Long in order to escape from her horror of the concert +platform. They have never suggested the possibility of Mr. Long's +settling a sum of money on her out of his generosity when he found out +that Miss Linley did not love him. + +It was not Mr. Long, however, but a man named Mathews--sometimes +referred to as Captain, occasionally as Major--who was the immediate +cause of her running away with young Sheridan. This man Mathews was +known to be married, and to be in love with Elizabeth Linley, and yet +he was allowed to be constantly in her company, pestering her with his +attentions, and there was no one handy to horsewhip him. Sheridan's +sister, who afterwards married Mr. Lefanu, wrote an account of this +curious matter for the guidance of Thomas Moore, who was preparing his +biography of her brother. She stated that Miss Linley was afraid to tell +her father of Major Mathews and his impossible suit, and so she was "at +length induced to consult Richard Sheridan, whose intimacy with Major +Mathews, at the time, she thought might warrant his interference." And +then we are told that "R. B. Sheridan sounded Mathews on the subject and +at length prevailed on him to give up the pursuit." + +That is how the adoring sister of "R. B. Sheridan," who had been talking +to Elizabeth Linley of him as of a knight-errant, eager to redress the +wrongs of maidens in distress, wrote of her brother! He "sounded Mathews +on the subject." On what subject? The subject was the pursuit of an +innocent girl by a contemptible scoundrel. How does the knight-errant +"sound" such a person when he sets out to redress the maiden's +ill-treatment? One R. B. Sheridan, a dramatist, gives us a suggestion as +to what were his ideas on this point: "Do you think that Achilles or my +little Alexander the Great ever enquired where the right lay? No, sir, +they drew their broadswords and left the lazy sons of peace to settle +the rights of the matter." Now young Sheridan, who is reported by his +sister as "sounding" Mathews, was no coward. He proved himself to be +anything but afraid of Mathews, so that one must, out of justice to him, +assume that the only attempt he would have made to "sound" the scoundrel +at this time would be through the medium of a sound hiding. + +It is at such a point as this in the biography of an interesting man +that one blesses the memory--and the notebook--of the faithful Boswell. +Thomas Moore was quite intimate with Richard Brinsley Sheridan, but +he never thought of asking him for some information on this particular +incident in his life, the fact being that he had no definite intention +of becoming his biographer. We know perfectly well how Boswell would +have plied Johnson with questions on the subject, had it ever come +to his ears that Johnson had undertaken to play the rle of a +knight-errant. + +"Pray, sir, what did you say to Mathews when you sounded him?" + +"Do you think, sir, that in any circumstances a married gentleman who is +showing marked attentions to a virtuous young lady should be sounded by +a young gentleman who has been entrusted with the duty of protecting the +lady?" + +Alas! instead of the unblushing indelicacy of Boswell, who hunted for +trifles as a pig hunts for truffles, we are obliged to be content with +the vagueness of a sister, whose memory, we have an uneasy feeling, was +not quite so good as she thought it was. + +And from the memory of this sister we have an account of the amazing +elopement of Richard Sheridan with Elizabeth Linley. + +When the young gentleman put her into the chaise that was waiting for +them on the London road, Miss Linley had never thought of him except as +a kind friend. She had accepted his services upon this occasion as she +would those of a courier to conduct her to London, and thence to France, +where she intended to enter a convent. The Miss Sheridans had lived in +France, and had some friends at St. + +Quentin, who knew of a very nice clean convent--an establishment which +they could strongly recommend, and where she could find that complete +seclusion which Miss Linley longed for, and their brother Dick was +thought to be a very suitable companion for her on her way thither. Mrs. +Lefanu (_ne_ Sheridan), who wrote out the whole story in after years, +mentioned that her chivalrous brother was to provide a woman to act as +her maid in the chaise; but as not the least reference to this chaperon +is to be found in the rest of the story, we fear that it must be assumed +either that her brother forgot this unimportant detail, or that the +detail was unavoidably detained in Bath. What is most likely of all is +that the solitary reference to this mysterious female was dovetailed, +somewhat clumsily, into the narrative, at the suggestion of some +Mrs. Grundy, who shook her head at the narrative of so much chivalry +unsupported by a responsible chaperon. However this may be, the shadowy +chaperon is never alluded to again; she may have faded away into the +mists of morning and London, or she may have vanished at the first +turnpike. Nothing was seen or heard of her subsequently. + +The boy and the girl reached London in safety, and drove to the house +of a Mr. Ewart, a relation of the Sheridans, to whom Dick offered the +explanation of his unconventional visit on the very plausible grounds +of his being engaged to the young lady, a great heiress, whom he was +hastening to France to marry. Of course the Ewart family were +perfectly satisfied with this explanation; and another friend, who had +indisputable claims to consideration, being, we are told, "the son of +a respectable brandy merchant in the City," suggested that they should +sail from London to Dunkirk, "in order to make pursuit more difficult." +How such an end could be compassed by such means is left to the +imagination of a reader. The young pair, however, jumped at the +suggestion, and reached Dunkirk after an uneventful crossing. + +It is at this point in the sister's account of the itinerary of this +interesting enterprise that she mentions that Richard suddenly threw +away the disguise of the chivalrous and disinterested protector of the +young lady, and declared that he would not consent to conduct her to the +convent unless she agreed to marry him immediately. Mrs. Lefanu's exact +words are as follows: "After quitting Dunkirk Mr. Sheridan was more +explicit with Miss Linley as to his views on accompanying her to +France." + +This is certainly a very lawyer-like way of condoning the conduct of +a mean scoundrel; but, happily for the credit of Richard Brinsley +Sheridan, it is the easiest thing in the world to discredit his sister's +narrative, although she adds that he urged on the girl what would seem +to a casual observer of society in general to be perfectly true--"she +must be aware that after the step she had taken, she could not appear +in England but as his wife." As the sequel proved this alleged statement +was quite untrue! She did appear in England, and not as his wife, and +no one seemed to think anything the worse of her on account of her +escapade. But to suggest that Sheridan took advantage of the trust +which the innocent girl had reposed in him to compel her to marry him, +a penniless minor with no profession and very little education, is +scarcely consistent with an account of his high-mindedness and his sense +of what was chivalrous. + +And then the sister pleasantly remarks that "Miss Linley, who really +preferred him greatly to any person, was not difficult to persuade, and +at a village not far from Calais the marriage ceremony was performed +by a priest who was known to be often employed upon such occasions." +Whoever this clergyman may have been, it is impossible for any one to +believe that in the discharge of his office he was kept in constant +employment; for "such occasions" as answered to the account given by +the Sheridan sister of the nuptials of the young couple, must have been +extremely rare. + +And yet Moore, on whom the responsibilities of a biographer rested very +lightly, was quite content to accept as strictly accurate the narrative +of Mrs. Lefanu, contradicted though it was by subsequent events in which +both her brother and Miss Linley were concerned. Moore does not seem to +have troubled himself over any attempt to obtain confirmation of one +of the most important incidents in the life of the man of whom he was +writing. + +He made no attempt to discover if the accommodating priest at the +village near Calais was still alive when he was compiling his biography +of Sheridan, and it was not beyond the bounds of possibility that he was +still alive; nor did this easy-going Irish master of melodies consider +that it devolved on him to try to find some record of the marriage in +question. + +Now what happened after this remarkable union? The narrative of the +sister is quite as circumstantial as one could wish it to be, and even +more imaginative. But whatever qualities of excellence it possesses, +it certainly does not carry to a reader any conviction of accuracy. +It states that the interesting young couple went to Lille instead of +carrying out their original intention of going to St. Quentin, and +that Miss Linley--now Mrs. Sheridan, of course--"immediately secured an +apartment in a convent, where it was settled she was to remain either +till Sheridan came of age or till he was in a situation to support +a wife. He remained a few days at Lille to be satisfied that she was +settled to her satisfaction; but, whether from agitation of mind or +fatigue, she was taken ill, and an English physician, Dr. Dolman, of +York, was called in to attend her. From what he perceived of her case he +wished to have her more immediately under his care than he could in the +convent, and he and Mrs. Dolman most kindly invited her to their house." + +This would seem to have been very kind indeed on the part of the doctor +and his wife, but it so happened that a letter turned up some years ago +which the late Mr. Fraser Rae was able to print in the first volume of +his admirable _Life of Sheridan_, and this letter makes it plain +that wherever Mrs. Sheridan (_ne_ Linley) may have been, she was not +sojourning with the Dolmans. It is from Dr. Dolman himself, and it was +addressed to "Monsieur Sherridan, Gentilhomme Anglois, l'Htel de +Bourbon, Sur la Grande Place." It recommends the administering of +certain powders in a glass of white wine twice daily, and sends +"compliments and wishes of health to your lady." + +The question then remains: Was the lady at this time an inmate of the +convent, and did the doctor expect "Monsieur Sherridan" to go to this +institution twice a day in order to administer the powders to his lady? +Would not the doctor think it somewhat peculiar that the husband should +be at the Htel de Bourbon and his lady an inmate of the convent? + +These questions must be left to be answered according to the experience +of life of any one interested in the matter. But it is worth noticing +that, on the very day that he received the missive from Dr. Dolman, +Sheridan wrote to his brother at Bath and mentioned that Miss Linley--he +continued to call her Miss Linley--was now "fixing in a convent, where +she has been entered some time." Does the first phrase mean that she was +already in the convent, or only about to take up her residence there? +However this question may be answered, it is clear that Sheridan +expected to leave her behind him at Lille, for he adds, "Everything +is now so happily settled here I will delay no longer giving you that +information, though probably I shall set out for England without knowing +a syllable of what has happened with you." + +So far, then, as his emprise in regard to the lady was concerned, he +considered the incident to be closed. "Though you may have been ignorant +for some time of our proceedings, you could never have been uneasy," he +continues hopefully, "lest anything should tempt me to depart, even in a +thought, from the honour and consistency which engaged me at first." + +Some people have suggested that Sheridan, when he drew the character +of Charles Surface, meant it to be something of an excuse for his own +casual way of life. But it must strike a good many persons who believe +that he induced the innocent girl, whom he set forth to protect on her +way to a refuge from the infamous designs of Mathews, to marry him, that +Sheridan approached much more closely to the character of Joseph in this +correspondence with his brother. A more hypocritical passage than that +just quoted could hardly have been uttered by Joseph Surface. As a +matter of fact, one of Joseph's sentiments is only a paraphrase of this +unctuous assumption of honour and consistency. + +But this criticism is only true if one can believe his sister's story of +the marriage. If it is true that Sheridan set out from England with +Miss Linley with the intention of so compromising her that she should +be compelled to marry him, at the same time pretending to her and to his +brother to be actuated by the highest motives in respect of the ill-used +girl, it is impossible to think of him except with contempt. + +Happily the weight of evidence is overpoweringly in Sheridan's favour. +We may think of him as a rash, an inconsiderate, and a culpably careless +boy to take it upon him to be the girl's companion to the French +convent, but we refuse to believe that he was ever capable of acting the +grossly disingenuous part attributed to him by his sister, and accepted +without question by his melodious biographer. There are many people, +however, who believe that when a man marries a woman, no matter in what +circumstances, he has "acted the part of a gentleman" in regard to her, +and must be held to be beyond reproach on any account whatsoever so far +as the woman is concerned. In the eyes of such censors of morality, as +in the eyes of the law, the act of marriage renders null and void all +ante-nuptial deeds; and it was probably some impression of this type +which was acquired by Sheridan's sister, inducing her to feel sure +(after a time) that her brother's memory would suffer if his biographer +were to tell the story of his inconsiderate conduct in running away with +Elizabeth Linley, unless it was made clear that he married her the first +moment he had to spare. She tried to save her brother's memory by +persuading her own to accommodate itself to what she believed to be her +brother's emergency. She was a good sister, and she kept her memory well +under control. + +But what did the father of the young lady think of the matter? What did +the people of Bath, who were well acquainted with all the actors engaged +in this little comedy, think of the matter? Happily these questions can +be answered by appealing to facts rather than to the well-considered +recollections of a discreet lady. + +We know for certain that Mr. Linley, who was, as one might suppose, +fully equipped to play the part of the enraged father of the runaway +girl, turned up at the place of her retreat--he had no trouble in +learning in what direction to look for her--and having found her and the +young gentleman who had run away with her, did he, under the impulse +of his anger, fanned by his worldly knowledge, insist with an uplifted +horsewhip upon his marrying her without a moment's delay? Mr. Linley +knew Bath, and to know Bath was to know the world. Was he, then, of the +same opinion as that expressed (according to his sister's narrative) by +young Sheridan to persuade Miss Linley to be his bride--namely, that it +would be impossible for her to show her face in Bath unless as the wife +of Richard Brinsley Sheridan? + +Nothing of the sort. Whatever reproaches he may have flung at his +daughter, however strong may have been his denunciation of the conduct +of the man who had run away with her, they had not the effect either of +inducing his daughter or her companion to reveal to him the fact that +they had been married for several days, or of interrupting the friendly +relations that had existed for nearly two years between himself and +young Sheridan. The dutiful memory of Miss Sheridan records that Mr. +Linley, "after some private conversation with Mr. Sheridan, appeared +quite reconciled to his daughter, but insisted on her returning to +England with him (Mr. Linley) to fulfil several engagements he had +entered into on her account. The whole party set out together the next +day, Mr. Linley having previously promised to allow his daughter to +return to Lille when her engagements were over." + +The comedy of the elopement had become a farce of the "whimsical" type. +Nothing more amusing or amazing has ever been seen on the vaudeville +stage. The boy and the girl run off together and get married. The +infuriated father follows them, ruthlessly invades their place of +refuge, and then, "after some private conversation" with his daughter's +husband, who does not tell him that he is her husband, says to the young +woman, "My dear, you must come home with me to sing at a concert." + +"Certainly, papa," replies the girl. "Wait a minute, and I'll go too," +cries the unconfused husband of the daughter. "All right, come along," +says the father, and they all take hands and sing the ridiculous trio +which winds up the vaudeville after it has run on inconsequentially for +a merry forty minutes--there is a _pas de trois_, and the curtain falls! + +Alas, for the difference between Boswell the bald and Moore the +melodious! The bald prose of Boswell's diaries may have made many of +the personages with whom he dealt seem silly, but that was because +he himself was silly, and, being aware of this fact, the more +discriminating of his readers have no great difficulty in arriving +at the truth of any matter with which he deals. He would never have +accepted unreservedly such a narrative as that which Moore received +from Mrs. Lefanu (_ne_ Sheridan), and put into his own language, or as +nearly into his own language as he could. But Moore found it "so hard to +narrate familiar events eloquently," he complained. He actually thought +that Mrs. Lefanu's narrative erred on the side of plausibility! The +mysterious elopement, the still more mysterious marriage, and the +superlatively mysterious return of the fugitives and the irate father +hand-in-hand, he regarded as events so commonplace as not to be +susceptible of lyrical treatment. But the most farcical of the doings +of his own _Fudge Family_ were rational in comparison with the familiar +events associated with the flight to France of his hero and heroine. The +_Trip to Scarborough_ of Sheridan the farce-writer was founded on +much more "familiar events" than this extraordinary trip to Lille, as +narrated for the benefit of the biographer by Mrs. Lefanu. + +What seems to be the truth of the whole matter is simply that Sheridan +undertook to be a brother to Elizabeth Linley, and carried out his +compact faithfully, without allowing anything to tempt him to depart, +as he wrote to Charles, "even in thought from the honour and consistency +which engaged [him] at first." It must be remembered that he was a +romantic boy of twenty, and this is just the age at which nearly every +boy--especially a boy in love--is a Sir Galahad. As for Miss Linley, +one has only to look at her portrait to know what she was. She was not +merely innocent, she was innocence itself. + +When Mr. Linley appeared at Lille he accepted without reserve the +explanation offered to him by his daughter and by Sheridan; and, +moreover, he knew that although there was a school for scandal located +at Bath, yet so highly was his daughter thought of in all circles, and +so greatly was young Sheridan liked, that no voice of calumny would be +raised against either of them when they returned with him. And even if +it were possible that some whisper, with its illuminating smile above +the arch of a painted fan, might be heard in the Assembly Rooms when +some one mentioned the name of Miss Linley in connection with that of +young Sheridan and with the trip to Lille, he felt convinced that such +a whisper would be robbed of its sting when every one knew that the girl +and the boy and the father all returned together and on the best terms +to Bath. + +As the events proved, he had every right to take even so sanguine a view +of the limitations of the range of the Pump Room gossips. On the return +of the three from Lille no one suggested that Sheridan and Miss Linley +should get married. No one except the scoundrel Mathews suggested that +Sheridan had acted badly or even unwisely, though undoubtedly he had +given grounds for such implications. The little party returned to Bath, +and Miss Linley fulfilled her concert and oratorio engagements, went +into society as before, and had at her feet more eligible suitors than +had ever knelt there. We have it on the authority of Charles Sheridan, +the elder brother, that in Bath the feeling was that Richard had acted +as a man of honour in taking the girl to the convent at Lille. Writing +to their uncle, Mr. Chamberlaine, he expressed surprise that "in +this age when the world does not abound in Josephs, most people are +(notwithstanding the general tendency of mankind to judge unfavourably) +inclined to think that he (Richard) acted with the strictest honour in +his late expedition with Miss L., when the circumstances might allow of +their being very dubious on this head without incurring the imputation +of being censorious." + +This testimony as to what was the opinion in Bath regarding the +expedition is extremely valuable, coming as it does from one who was +never greatly disposed to take a brotherly or even a friendly view of +Richard's conduct at any time--coming as it does also from a man who had +been in love with Miss Linley. + +At any rate this escapade of young Mr. Sheridan was the most fortunate +for him of any in which he ever engaged, and he was a man of many +escapades, for it caused Elizabeth Linley to fall in love with him, and +never was a man beloved by a sweeter or more faithful woman. To know how +beautiful was her nature one has only to look at her face in either of +the great portraits of her which are before us to-day. No characteristic +of all that is held to be good and gracious and sympathetic--in one +word, that is held to be womanly, is absent from her face. No man that +ever lived was worthy of such a woman; but if only men who are worthy of +such women were beloved by them, mankind would be the losers. She loved +Sheridan with the truest devotion--such devotion as might be expected +from such a nature as hers--and she died in the act of writing to him +the love-letter of a wife to her dearly loved husband. + +They did not get married until a year after the date of their flight to +the Continent, and then they were described as bachelor and spinster. +Neither of them ever gave a hint, even in any of the numerous letters +which they exchanged during this period, that they had gone through +the ceremony of marriage at that village near Calais. More than once a +strained situation would have been relieved had it been possible to make +such a suggestion, for now and again each of the lovers grew jealous of +the other for a day or two. But neither said, "Pray remember that you +are not free to think of marrying any one. We are husband and wife, +although we were married in secret." Neither of them could make such an +assertion. It would not have been true. What seems to us to be the truth +is that it was Sir Galahad who acted as protector to his sister when +Richard Brinsley Sheridan went with Elizabeth Linley to France. + + + + +THE AMAZING DUELS + +WHEN young Mr. Sheridan returned to Bath after his happy little +journey to France with Miss Linley and back with Mr. Linley, he may have +believed that the incident was closed. He had done all that--and perhaps +a little more than--the most chivalrous man of experience and means +could be expected to do for the young woman toward whom he had stood +in the position of a protecting brother. He had conducted her to the +convent at Lille, on which she had set her heart, and he had been able +to explain satisfactorily to her father on his arrival at the hotel +where he and Miss Linley were sojourning in the meantime, what his +intentions had been when he had eloped with her from Bath. No doubt he +had also acted as Miss Linley's adviser in respect of those negotiations +with her father which resulted in the happy return of the whole family +party to London. + +In London he heard that Mathews, the scoundrel who had been pursuing +Miss Linley in the most disreputable fashion, was in town also, and +that, previous to leaving Bath, he had inserted in the Chronicle +a defamatory advertisement regarding him (Sheridan); and on this +information coming to his ears he put his pistols into his pocket and +went in search of Mathews at the lodgings of the latter. + +Miss Sheridan tells us about the pistols in the course of her lucid +narrative, and states on her own responsibility that when he came upon +Mathews the latter was dreadfully frightened at the sight of one of the +pistols protruding from Sheridan's pocket. Mr. Fraser Rae, the competent +biographer of Sheridan, smiles at the lady's statement. "The sight of +the pistols would have alarmed Sheridan's sisters," he says, "but it +is in accordance with probability that he (Mathews) expected a hostile +meeting to follow as a matter of course. He must have been prepared for +it, and he would have been strangely ignorant of the world in which he +lived if he had deemed it unusual." + +[Illustration: 0301] + +But Mr. Fraser Rae was not so strangely ignorant of the world in which +Sheridan and Mathews lived as to fancy that there was nothing unusual +in a gentleman's going to ask another gentleman whom he believed to have +affronted him, for an explanation, with a pair of pistols in his pocket. +In the circumstances a duel would have been nothing unusual; but surely +Mr. Fraser Rae could not have fancied that Sheridan set out with the +pistols in his pocket in order to fight a duel with Mathews in the man's +lodgings, without preliminaries and without seconds. If Mathews caught +sight of the butt of a pistol sticking out of Sheridan's pocket he had +every reason to be as frightened as Miss Sheridan declared he was, for +he must have believed that his visitor had come to murder him. + +At any rate, frightened or not frightened, pistols or no pistols, +Mathews, on being interrogated by Sheridan as to the advertisement in +the _Bath Chronicle_, assured him that he had been grossly misinformed +as to the character of the advertisement. It was, he affirmed, nothing +more than an inquiry after Sheridan, which the family of the latter had +sanctioned. He then, according to Miss Sheridan, expressed the greatest +friendship for his visitor, and said that he would be made extremely +unhappy if any difference should arise between them. + +So young Mr. Sheridan, balked of his murderous intentions, returned with +unsullied pistols to his hotel, and set out for Bath with Miss Linley +and her father. + +But if he fancied that Mathews had passed out of his life he was quickly +undeceived. Before he had time to take his seat at the family table he +had got a copy of the newspaper containing the advertisement, of the +tenor of which Mathews had told him in London he had been misinformed; +and now his sisters made him fully aware of the action taken by the +same man on learning of the flight of Sheridan and Elizabeth Linley. The +result was that he now perceived what every one should have known long +before--namely, that Mathews was a scoundrel, who should never have +been allowed to obtain the footing to which he had been admitted in the +Sheridan and Linley families. + +It appears that the moment Mathews heard that Miss Linley had been +carried beyond his reach, he rushed to the Sheridans' house, and +there found the girls and their elder brother, who had been wisely +communicated with by the landlord, and had left his retirement in the +farmhouse in the country to take charge of the sisters in the absence of +their brother Richard. Mathews behaved like a madman--no unusual _rle_ +for him--heaping reproaches upon the absent member of the family, +and demanding to be told of his whereabouts. He seems to have been +encouraged by Charles Sheridan, who had unwisely said something in +disparagement of his brother. Mathews had the effrontery to avow his +passion for Elizabeth Linley, and in the bitterest terms to accuse +Richard Sheridan of having acted basely in taking her beyond his reach. + +Then he hastened to Richard Sheridan's friend and confidant, a young man +named Brereton, and to him he sent messages of friendship and, possibly, +condolence to Mr. Linley, though his object in paying this visit was +undoubtedly not to endeavour to exculpate himself as regards Mr. Linley, +but to find out where the fugitives were to be found. He may have had +visions of pursuing them, of fighting a duel with Richard Sheridan, and +if he succeeded in killing him, of getting the girl at last into his +power. + +But Mr. Brereton not only did not reveal the whereabouts of his +friend--he knew that Sheridan meant to go to Lille, for he wrote to him +there--but he also refused to give his interrogator any sympathy for +having failed to accomplish the destruction of the girl. Brereton, +indeed, seems to have convinced him that the best thing he could do was +to leave Bath as quickly as possible. Mathews had probably by this time +discovered, as Brereton certainly had, that the feeling against him in +Bath was profound. There can be little doubt that in the course of the +day Charles Sheridan became aware of this fact also; he had only a few +months before confessed himself to be deeply in love with Elizabeth +Linley, and when he heard that his brother had run away with her he +could not but have been somewhat incensed against him, for Richard had +not taken him into his confidence. By the time his brother returned, +however, any ill-feeling that Charles may have felt had disappeared, +and as Charles always showed himself to be a cool and calculating +gentleman--one who always kept an eye on the jumping cat--it is not +going too far to assume that his change of tone in respect of his rather +impetuous brother was due to his perception of the trend of public +opinion on the subject of the elopement. + +Brereton had persuaded Mathews that there was nothing left for him but +to quit Bath; but before taking this step the latter had inserted in the +_Bath Chronicle_ the advertisement of which Richard had heard, but which +he had not read when in London, thus leaving himself in no position to +contradict Mathews' assertion as to its amicable wording. + +But now the newspaper was put into his hands by Charles, and he had +an opportunity of pronouncing an opinion on this point. It was dated +Wednesday, April the 8th, 1772, and it ran as follows: + +"Mr. Richard S-------- having attempted in a letter left behind him for +that purpose, to account for his scandalous method of running away from +this place by insinuations derogating from my character and that of a +young lady, innocent as far as relates to me, or my knowledge, since +which he has neither taken any notice of letters or even informed his +own family of the place where he has hid himself; I cannot longer think +he deserves the treatment of a gentleman, and in this public method, to +post him as a L------, and a treacherous S--------. + +"And as I am convinced there have been many malevolent incendiaries +concerned in the propagation of this infamous lie, if any of them, +unprotected by age, _infirmities_, or profession, they are to +acknowledge the part they have acted, and affirm _to_ what they have +said _of_ me, they may depend on receiving the proper reward of their +villainy, in the most public manner. The world will be candid enough to +judge properly (I make no doubt) of any private abuse on this subject +for the future, as nobody can defend himself from an accusation he is +ignorant of Thomas Mathews." Such a piece of maundering imbecility as +this had probably never before appeared in a newspaper. It must have +been read in Bath with roars of laughter. But we do not hear that any of +the ready writers of the time and the town yielded to the temptation of +commenting upon the "malevolent incendiarism" of the composition. A man +of the world, had it been written about himself, would possibly +have thought that its illiteracy spoke for itself, and so would have +refrained from making any move in regard to it or its author. But one +can imagine what effect reading it would have upon a boy of Sheridan's +spirit. For a youth of twenty to find himself posted as a Liar and +a Scoundrel, to say nothing of a "malevolent incendiary," and remain +indifferent would be impossible. Sheridan did not take long to make up +his mind what he should do in the circumstances. + +The dramatic touch which his sister introduces in writing of Richard's +perusal of the paragraph is intensely true to nature. He simply put a +word or two to Charles relative to what Mathews had told him in +London about his, Sheridan's, family sanctioning the insertion of the +advertisement. Charles had no difficulty in vindicating his integrity on +this point. Richard knew perfectly well that it is one thing to say that +a man has acted too hastily, but quite another to suggest that that man +is "a L------ and a S--------." + +So apparently the matter ended, and Richard continued chatting with his +sisters, giving no sign of what was in his mind. The girls went to +their beds, suspecting nothing. The next morning their two brothers were +missing! + +Of course the girls were dreadfully alarmed. Some people in the house +told them that they had heard high words being exchanged between the +brothers after the girls had retired, and shortly afterwards the two +former had gone out together. The sister, in her narrative, mentions +that she received a hint or two of a duel between Richard and Charles, +but she at once put these suggestions aside. The poor girls must have +been nearly distracted. Certainly the house of Sheridan was passing +through a period of great excitement. The estimable head of the family +was himself expecting a crisis in his affairs as manager of the theatre +in Dublin--Mr. Thomas Sheridan was never far removed from a crisis--and +in his absence his young people were doing pretty much as they pleased. +He had no power of controlling them; all that he had to do with them was +to pay their bills. Neither of the sons was earning anything, and while +one of them was living as a man of fashion, the other had thought it +well to cut himself off from his sisters, taking lodgings at a farm some +way out of Bath It is the girls of the house for whom one feels most. +Alicia, the elder, was seventeen, Elizabeth was but twelve. They must +have been distracted. So would their father have been if he had had a +chance of learning all that was going on at Bath. + +But, of course, when young gentlemen of spirit are falling in love with +beauteous maidens, and retiring to cure themselves by mingling with +pastoral scenes reminiscent of the gentle melancholy of Mr. Alexander +Pope's shepherds and shepherdesses (done in Dresden), every one of +whom murmurs mournfully and melodiously of a rejected suit--when young +gentlemen are running away with afflicted damsels and returning to +fight their enemies, they cannot be expected to think of the incidental +expenses of the business, which are to be defrayed by their father, any +more than of the distraction which takes possession of their sisters. + +The two young gentlemen were missing, and had left for their sisters +no explanation of their absence--no hint as to the direction of their +flight. And there were other people in the house talking about the high +words that had been exchanged between the brothers at midnight. It is +not surprising that the poor girls should be distressed and distracted. + +Considering that Miss Linley was the first cause of the excitement in +the midst of which the family had been living for some weeks, it was +only natural that the elder of the girls should send for her with a view +to have some light thrown on this new development of the heroic incident +in which Miss Linley had assisted. But Miss Linley, on being applied +to, affirmed that she knew nothing of the disappearance of the brothers, +that she had heard of nothing that should cause them to leave Bath at a +moment's notice. She was, unfortunately, a young woman of imagination. +In a crisis such a one is either very helpful, or very helpless. Poor +Miss Linley was the latter. She had just come through a great crisis in +her own life, and she had not emerged from it without suffering. It was +too much to ask her to face another in the family of her friends. She +went off in a fainting fit on hearing the news of the disappearance of +the young men, and her father left her in the hands of a medical man, +and turned his attention to the condition of Miss Sheridan, who was +unable to walk back to her home, and had to be put into a chair, +Mr. Linley walking beside her with her young sister. It is more than +possible that Mr. Linley was beginning to feel that he had had quite +enough of the Sheridan family to last him for the remainder of his life. + +For two days nothing whatever was heard of the missing brothers. We have +no means of knowing if Miss Sheridan communicated to their father in +Dublin the mysterious story she had to tell; the chances are that she +was advised by Mr. Linley to refrain from doing so until she might have +something definite to tell him. Mr. Linley never had any particular +regard for the elder Sheridan, and he had no wish to have him summoned +from his theatre at Dublin to make his remarks about the dangerous +attractiveness of Elizabeth Linley, and the culpable carelessness of +her father in allowing her to be carried off to France by a young man +without a penny except what he got from his own father. + +At any rate, Tom Sheridan did not leave his theatre or his pupils +in elocution, and there was no need for him to do so, for on Tuesday +evening--they had been missing on the Sunday morning--Dick and his +brother returned. They were both greatly fatigued, and said that they +had not been in bed since they had left Bath. This meant that Dick had +actually not slept in Bath since he had originally left the city in the +company of Miss Linley. Between the Friday and the Tuesday he had posted +from London to Bath with the Linleys, and had forthwith returned to +London with his brother and then back once more to Bath without a pause. +He, at least, had very good reason for feeling fatigued. + +His first act was to hand his sister an apology which had been made to +him by Mathews. This document is worthy of being reprinted. It ran thus: + +"Being convinced that the expressions I made use of to Mr. Sheridan's +disadvantage, were the effects of passion and misrepresentation, +I intreat what I have said to that gentleman's disadvantage, and +particularly beg his pardon for my advertisement in the _Bath +Chronicle_. Th. Mathews." + +He handed this document to his sister, and then it may be supposed that +he went to bed. He had certainly good need of a sleep. + +Such is the drift of the story up to this point, as told by Mrs. Lefanu +(Elizabeth Sheridan), and it differs in some particulars from that told +by her brother Charles in a letter to their uncle, and, in a lesser +degree, from the account given of the whole transaction by Richard +Sheridan himself, who was surely in the best position to know exactly +what happened upon the occasion of his first visit to Mathews in London, +as well as upon the occasion of his second, made so hurriedly in the +company of his brother. + +His second visit was, as might have been expected, the more exciting. +It included the fighting of a duel with Mathews. The humours of duelling +have been frequently dealt with in prose and comedy, and, assuredly the +most amusing of all is to be found in Richard Brinsley Sheridan's _The +Rivals_. One must confess, however, that the serious account given by +the same writer of his hostile meeting with Mathews, on his return from +Bath, suggests a much more ludicrous series of situations than are to be +found in his play. + +In Sheridan's account he mentions that while still in France he received +"several abusive threats" from Mathews, and these had such an effect +upon him that he wrote to Mathews, swearing that he would not close his +eyes in sleep in England till he had treated Mathews as he deserved. +In order to carry out this vow he had actually sat up all night at +Canterbury, where his party halted on their way from Dover to London. +He called upon Mathews on arriving in London, at the latter's lodging +in Crutched Friars; this was at midnight, and the key of the door being +mislaid, he had to wait two hours before he was admitted. He found +Mathews in bed, but he induced him to rise and dress, though, in spite +of his compliance as regards his raiment, he complained bitterly of the +cold. There does not seem to have been any great suffering on Sheridan's +part through a lack of heat. Then, as his sister's narrative put it, the +man declared that his visitor had been grossly misinformed in regard to +the libel in the Chronicle; and so he left for Bath, as has already been +stated. + +And now comes the account given by Sheridan of the return visit, and, +told in his own laconic style, it suggests such comic situations as +border on farce. + +"Mr. S.," he wrote, "staid but three hours in Bath. He returned to +London. He sent to Mr. M. from Hyde Parck. He came with Captain Knight +his second. He objected frequently to the ground. They adjourned to the +Hercules Pillars. They returned to Hyde Parck. Mr. M. objected to the +observation of an officer. They returned to Hercules Pillars. They +adjourned to the Bedford Coffee house by agreement. Mr. M. was gone +to the Castel Tavern. Mr. S. followed with Mr. E. Mr. M. made many +declarations in favour of Mr. S. They engaged. Mr. M. was disarmed, +Captain Knight ran in. Mr. M. begged his life and afterwards denied the +advantage. Mr. S. was provoked by the (really well-meant) interposition +of Captain Knight and the illusion of Mr. M. He insisted since Mr. M. +denied the advantage, that he should give up his sword. Mr. M. denied, +but sooner than return to his ground he gave it up. It was broke, and +Mr. M. offered another. He was then called on to retract his abuse +and beg Mr. S.'s pardon. With much altercation and much ill grace he +complied." + +The remainder of this remarkably succinct composition is devoted to the +subsequent misrepresentations of the transaction by Mathews, and by the +writer's appeal to the seconds to say if his version of the encounter +was not correct. + +But whatever Mathews' account may have been it could scarcely be more +ludicrous than Sheridan's. The marching and countermarching of the +four gentlemen--it appears that brother Charles, although accompanying +Richard to London, thought it more prudent to remain under cover during +the actual engagement; he waited at Brereton's lodgings--the excuses +made by Mathews in order to get away without fighting, and then at the +last moment, the carrying out (by agreement) of a manouvre which landed +Mathews in one tavern and the rest of the party in another--the set-to +of the principals immediately after the "declarations" of one of them in +favour of the other, and the final catastrophe could hardly be surpassed +by the actions of a pair of burlesque duellists in what is technically +known as a "knockabout" entertainment. + +And after all this scrupulousness of detail one is left in doubt as +to the exact _locale_ of the encounter. Did it take place in the +coffee-room of the Castell Inn, or did the eager combatants retrace +their steps to the "parck"? The document written by Sheridan, though +dealing very fully with the forced marches of the army in the field, +throws no light upon this question of the scene of the battle. In +respect of the signing of the treaty of peace, and the payment of the +indemnity, it is, however, moderately lucid. Sheridan must have told his +sister that Mathews signed the apology immediately after the encounter; +she states this in her narrative. But Mathews did not merely sign the +apology, he wrote every word of it, as one may see by referring to the +facsimile, thoughtfully given in Mr. Fraser Rae's _Life of Sheridan_, +and it would be impossible to say that the caligraphy of the apology +shows the least sign of that perturbation from which one must believe +the writer was suffering at the moment. Its characteristic is neatness. +It is in the fine old-fashioned Italian hand. Even an expert, who sees +possibilities--when paid for it--in handwriting which would never occur +to less imaginative observers, would scarcely venture to say that this +neat little document was written by a man with another's sword at his +throat. + +This is another element in the mystery of the duel, and it cannot be +said that when we read the letter which the elder of the brothers +wrote to his uncle, giving his account of the whole business, we feel +ourselves in a clearer atmosphere. It really seems a pity that Mr. +Browning did not make another _Ring and the Book_ series of studies out +of this amazing duel. Charles Sheridan told his uncle that an apology +was given to Richard by Mathews as a result of Richard's first visit to +him in London, but when Richard read the advertisement in the Chronicle, +which was the original casus belli, he considered this apology so +inadequate that he set off for London to demand another. Charles also +mentions, what neither his brother nor his sister had stated, that he +himself, on reaching London on the Sunday evening, went to Mathews to +endeavour to get a suitable apology--according to Richard's narrative +Charles had good grounds for sending a challenge to Mathews on his own +account--but "after two hours' altercation" he found that he had made no +impression upon the man, so that his brother had no alternative but to +call him out. + +But however the accounts of the lesser details of this affair of honour +may differ, there can be no question that public opinion in Bath was all +in favour of young Mr. Sheridan. It was acknowledged on every hand that +he had acted from the first--that is, from the moment he assumed the +duties of the protector of Miss Linley--with admirable courage, and with +a full sense of what honour demanded of him. In short he came back from +London, after so many sleepless nights, covered with glory. He was a +tall, handsome fellow of twenty, with brilliant eyes; he had run away +with the most beautiful girl in the world to save her from the clutches +of a scoundrel; he had had four nights without sleep, and then he had +fought a duel with the scoundrel and had obtained from him an apology +for insertion in the newspapers. Few young gentlemen starting life +wholly without means attain to so proud a position of achievement before +they reach their majority. + +But of course all these feats of errantry and arms run up a bill. +Young Mr. Sheridan's posting account must have been by itself pretty +formidable, and, knowing that his father had never looked on him with +the favour which he gave to his brother, Richard may now and again have +felt a trifle uneasy at the prospect of meeting Mr. Sheridan. If his +sister's memory is to be trusted, however, this meeting took place +within a week or two of his duel, and no bones were broken. Mr. Sheridan +had a few chiding words to say respecting the debts which his son had +incurred, but these he paid, after obtaining from the boy the usual +promise made under similar conditions before a like tribunal. The +prodigal invariably acts up to his character for prodigality in the +matter of promises of reform. + +Richard Sheridan, being something of a wit, though we do not get many +examples of his faculty in the accounts extant of his early life, and +assuredly not a single example in any of his letters that came into the +hands of his biographers, may have sworn to his father never to run away +with a girl who might be anxious to enter upon a conventual life. At +any rate, his father did not show any great displeasure when he was made +aware of the boy's conduct, though it is worth noting that Mr. Sheridan +took exception to the general conviction that his son's act had been +prompted by the most chivalrous aspirations. + +Mathews, however, had not yet been shaken off. He was back in Bath +almost as soon as the Sheridans, and "malevolent incendiarism" was +in the air. No slander was too base for him to use against Richard +Sheridan, no insinuation too vile. But the popularity of the object of +his calumny was now too firmly established in Bath to be shaken by the +vaporous malevolence of his enemy. Mathews, finding himself thoroughly +discredited in every quarter, did the only sensible thing recorded in +his squalid history--he ran away to his home in Wales. + +He was here unfortunate enough to meet with a man named Barnard, or +Barnett, who acted upon him pretty much as Sir Lucius O'Trigger did upon +Squire Acres, explaining to him that it was quite impossible that +the affair between him and Sheridan should remain as it was. It was +absolutely necessary, he said, that another duel should take place. All +the "incendiarism" in Mathews' nature was aroused by the fiery words of +this man, and the precious pair hurried to Bath, where a challenge was +sent to Sheridan through the hands of his eldest sister, under the guise +of an invitation to some festivity. + +Sheridan was foolish enough to accept the challenge apparently without +consulting with any one competent to advise him. According to his +father the challenge had been preceded by several letters of the +most scurrilous abuse. His wiser brother, who had just received an +appointment as Secretary to the British Legation in Sweden, had gone +to London with their father to make preparations for his departure for +Stockholm, and immediately on hearing of the duel he wrote to Richard a +typical elder brother's letter. It is dated July 3rd, 1772, so that, as +the duel had only taken place the previous day, it cannot be said +that he lost much time in expressing his deep sense of his brother's +foolishness in meeting so great a scoundrel for the second time. "All +your friends have condemned you," he wrote. "You risked everything, +where you had nothing to gain, to give your antagonist the thing he +wished, a chance for recovering his reputation; he wanted to get rid +of the contemptible opinion he was held in, and you were good-natured +enough to let him do it at your expense. It is not a time to scold, but +all your friends were of opinion you could, with the greatest propriety, +have refused to meet him." + +Without going into the question as to whether this sort of letter was +the ideal one for one brother to write to another who was lying on his +bed with several wounds in his throat, it is impossible to question the +soundness of the opinion expressed by Charles Sheridan in respect of +Richard's acceptance of Mathews' challenge. The challenge was, however, +accepted, and the duel took place on King's Down, at three o'clock +in the morning. Mathews' friend was Barnett, and Sheridan's a young +gentleman named Paumier, who, it was said, was quite unacquainted with +the rules of the game, and had never even seen a duel being fought. The +accounts which survive of this second meeting of Sheridan and Mathews +make it apparent that, if the first was a scene of comedy, this one was +a tragic burlesque. It is said that Sheridan, on the signal being given, +at once rushed in on his antagonist, endeavouring to disarm him as he +had done upon the former occasion of their meeting, but, tripping over +something, he literally, and not figuratively, fell upon the other, +knocking him down with such violence that he was not only disarmed, but +his sword was broken as well. Sheridan's own sword was also broken, so +that one might fancy that the meeting would have terminated here. It did +nothing of the sort. The encounter was only beginning, and anything more +savagely burlesque than the sequel could not be imagined. + +The combatants must have rolled over, after the manner of the negro +duellists on the variety stage, and when they had settled themselves +each made a grab for the most serviceable fragment of his sword. Mathews +being the heavier man contrived to keep uppermost in the scuffle, and, +what gave him a decided advantage over his opponent, he managed to get +his fingers on the hilt of his broken weapon. An appeal at this stage +was made by the lad who was acting as Sheridan's second to put a stop +to the fight; but the second ruffian, or the ruffian's second--either +description applies to Barnett--declared that as both the antagonists +were on the ground one could not be said to have any advantage over the +other. This delicate question being settled, Mathews held the jagged, +saw-like end--point it had none--of the broken sword at the other's +throat and told him to beg for his life. Sheridan replied that he +should refuse to beg his life from such a scoundrel, and forthwith the +scoundrel began jabbing at his throat and face with the fragment of his +weapon, a method of attack which was not robbed of its butchery by the +appeal that it makes to a reader's sense of its comical aspect. + +It is doubtful, however, if the comic side of the transaction appealed +very forcibly to the unfortunate boy who was being lacerated to death. +He just managed to put aside a thrust or two before the end of the blade +penetrated the flesh of his throat and pinned him to the ground. With a +chuckle and, according to Tom Sheridan's account, an oath, Mathews got +upon his feet, and, entering the coach which was waiting for him, drove +away from the scene of his butchery. Sheridan was thereupon raised from +the ground, and driven in his chaise with his second to the White Hart +Inn. Two surgeons were immediately in attendance, and it was found +that his wounds, though numerous, were not such as placed his life +in jeopardy. They were, however, sufficiently serious to prevent his +removal to his home that day. + +It does not appear that young Paumier told the sisters of the +occurrence; but an account of the duel having appeared in the _Bath +Chronicle_ the same afternoon, every one in the town must have been +talking of it, though Mrs. Lefanu says neither she nor her sister heard +a word of the matter until the next day. Then they hastened to the +White Hart, and prevailed upon the surgeons to allow them to take their +brother home. In a surprisingly short time he had quite recovered. +Indeed, although there was a report that Sheridan's life was despaired +of, there was no excuse for any one taking so gloomy a view of his +hurts, for the exact truth was known to Charles Sheridan and his father +in London early on the day following that of the fight. + +The pathetic part of the story of this ludicrous encounter is to be +found in the story of the reception of the news by Elizabeth Linley. Her +father had read in some of the papers that Sheridan was at the point of +death, but, like the worldly-wise man that Mr. Linley was, he kept +the news from his daughter. They were at Oxford together, and she was +announced to sing at a concert, and he knew that had she learned all +that the newspapers published, she might possibly not be able to do +herself--and her father--justice. But, as one of the audience told his +sister afterwards, the fact that every one who had come to hear Miss +Linley sing was aware of the serious condition (as the papers alleged) +of young Sheridan, and of her attachment to him, a feeling of sympathy +for the lovely young creature added immeasurably to the interest of her +performance. + +At the conclusion of the concert her father set out with her for Bath; +and it was not until they had almost reached their home that their +chaise was met by a clergyman named Pauton, and he summoned all his +tact to enable him to prepare Elizabeth Linley for the news which he was +entrusted to communicate to her. It is said that under the stress of +her emotion the girl declared that Richard Sheridan was her husband, and +that her place was by his side. + +Whatever truth there may be in this story it is certain that if she +believed at that moment that Sheridan was her husband, she gave no sign +of continuing in that belief, for though her numerous letters to him +show that she was devoted to him, there is no suggestion in any of them +that she believed herself to be his wife. On the contrary, there are +many passages which prove that no idea of the sort was entertained by +her. + +The exertions of the heads of the two families were for long directed +against the union of the lovers. Mr. Linley felt more forcibly than +ever that he had had quite enough of the Sheridans, and Tom Sheridan +doubtless wished never to hear again the name of Linley. The one made +his daughter promise on her knees to give up Richard Sheridan, and Mr. +Sheridan compelled his son to forswear any association with Elizabeth +Linley. Jove must have been convulsed with laughter. Richard Brinsley +Sheridan and Elizabeth Ann Linley were married on the 13th of April, +1773. + + + + +A MELODRAMA AT COVENT GARDEN + +ON an evening in April, 1779, the play, "_Love in a Village_" was being +performed at Covent Garden Theatre before a large audience. In the front +row of the boxes sat two ladies, one of them young and handsome, the +other not so young and not so beautiful--a dark-faced, dark-eyed woman +whom no one could mistake for any nationality except Italian. Three +gentlemen who sat behind them were plainly of their party--elegant +gentlemen of fashion, one of them an Irish peer. Every person of +quality in the theatre and a good many others without such a claim to +distinction, were aware of the fact that the most attractive member of +the group was Miss Reay, a lady whose name had been for several years +closely associated--very closely indeed--with that of Lord Sandwich, +the First Lord of the Admiralty, and one of the most unpopular men in +England. She had driven to the theatre in his lordship's carriage, and +two of the gentlemen with whom she conversed freely in the box were high +officials of the department over which his lordship presided. + +Almost from the moment of her arrival, Miss Reay and her friends were +watched eagerly by a hollow-eyed, morose gentleman in black. He looked as +if he had not slept for many nights; and no one observing him could have +failed to perceive that he had come to the theatre not for the sake of +the play which was being performed, but to watch the lady. He kept his +fierce eyes fixed upon her, and he frowned every time that she turned to +make a remark to one of her friends; his eyes blazed every time that one +of her friends smiled over her shoulder, and his hands clenched if she +smiled in return. Several times it seemed as if he found it impossible +to remain in his place in the upper side box, where his seat was, for +he started up and hurried out to the great lobby, walking to and fro in +great agitation. More than once he strode away from the lobby into the +Bedford Coffee House just outside the theatre, and there partook of +brandy and water, returning after brief intervals to stare at Miss Reay +and her companions in the front row of the boxes. + +[Illustration: 0327] + +At the conclusion of the play, he went hastily into the vestibule, +standing to one side, not far from the exit from the boxes; but if he +intended to be close to Miss Reay while she walked to the main exit, his +object was defeated by reason of the crush of people congregating in +the vestibule, the people of quality waiting for their carriages to +be announced, the others waiting for the satisfaction of being in such +close proximity to people of quality. + +Among the crowd there was a lady who had recently become the wife of a +curious gentleman named Lewis, who some years later wrote a grisly +book entitled _The Monk_, bringing him such great fame as cancelled for +posterity the names of Matthew Gregory, given to him by his parents, and +caused him to be identified by the name of his book only. This lady made +a remark to her neighbour in respect of a lovely rose which Miss Reay +was wearing when she left the box exit and stood in the vestibule--a +beautiful rose early in the month of April might have excited remark in +those days; at any rate, Mrs. Lewis has left the record that at the +very moment of her speaking, the rose fell to the floor, and Miss Reay +appeared to be profoundly affected by this trifling incident, and said +in a faltering voice, "I trust that I am not to consider this as an evil +omen!" So Mrs. Lewis stated. + +A few moments later Lord Sandwich's carriage was announced, and Miss +Reay and her companion made a move in the direction of the door. The +gentlemen of the party seem to have left earlier, for on the ladies +being impeded by the crush in the vestibule, a stranger, named Mr. +Macnamara, of Lincoln's Inn, proffered his services to help them to +get to the carriage. Miss Reay thanked him, took his arm, and the crowd +opened for them in some measure. It quickly opened wider under a more +acute persuasion a few seconds later, when the morose gentleman in black +pushed his way among the people until he was within a few feet of the +lady and her escort. Only for a second did he pause--certainly he spoke +no word to Miss Reay or any one else--before he pulled a pistol from his +pocket and fired almost point-blank at her before any one could knock up +his hand. Immediately afterwards he turned a second pistol against his +own forehead and pulled the trigger, and fell to the ground. + +The scene that followed can easily be imagined. Every woman present +shrieked, except Miss Reay, who was supported by Mr. Macnamara. The +ghastly effects of the bullet were apparent not only upon the forehead +of the lady where it lodged, but upon the bespattered garments of every +one about the door, and upon the columns of the hall. Above the shrieks +of the terror-stricken people were heard the yells of the murderer, +who lay on the ground, hammering at his head with the butt end of his +weapon, and crying, "Kill me! Kill me!" + +A Mr. Mahon, of Russell Street, who was said to be an apothecary, was +the first to lay a hand upon the wretched man. He wrested the pistol +from his grasp and prevented him from doing further mischief to himself. +He was quickly handed over to the police, and, with his unfortunate +victim, was removed to the Shakespeare Tavern, a surgeon named Bond +being in prompt attendance. It did not take long to find that Miss Reay +had never breathed after the shot had been fired at her; the bullet had +smashed the skull and passed through the brain. The man remained for +some time unconscious, but even before he recovered he was identified as +James Hackman, a gentleman who had been an officer in the army, and +on retiring had taken Orders, being admitted a priest of the Church of +England scarcely a month before his crime. There were rumours respecting +his infatuation for Miss Reay, and in a surprisingly short space of +time, owing most likely to the exertions of Signora Galli, the Italian +whom Lord Sandwich had hired to be her companion, the greater part of +the romantic story of the wretched man's life, as far as it related to +Miss Reay, was revealed. + +It formed a nine days' wonder during the spring of the same year (1779). +The grief displayed by Lord Sandwich on being made acquainted with the +circumstances of the murder was freely commented on, and the sympathy +which was felt for him may have diminished in some measure from his +unpopularity. The story told by Croker of the reception of the news by +Lord Sandwich is certainly not deficient in detail. "He stood as it +were petrified," we are told, "till suddenly, seizing a candle, he ran +upstairs and threw himself on the bed, and in agony exclaimed, 'Leave +me for a while to myself, I could have borne anything but this!' The +attendants remained for a considerable time at the top of the staircase, +till his lordship rang the bell and ordered that they should all go to +bed." + +Before his lordship left the scene of his grief in the morning Sir John +Fielding, the Bow Street magistrate, had arrived at the Shakespeare +Tavern from his house at Brompton, and, after a brief inquiry, ordered +Hackman to be taken to Tothill Fields Prison. In due course he was +committed to Newgate, and on April 16th his trial took place before +Blackstone, the Recorder. The facts of the tragedy were deposed to by +several witnesses, and the cause of the lady's death was certified by +Mr. Bond, the surgeon. The prisoner was then called on for his defence. +He made a brief speech, explaining that he would have pleaded guilty +at once had he not felt that doing so "would give an indication of +contemning death, not suitable to my present condition, and would in +some measure make me accessory to a second peril of my life. And I +likewise thought," he added, "that the justice of my country ought to +be satisfied by suffering my offence to be proved, and the fact to be +established by evidence." + +This curious affectation of a finer perception of the balance of justice +than is possessed by most men was quite characteristic of this man, as +was also his subsequent expression of his willingness to submit to the +sentence of the court. His counsel endeavoured to show that he had +been insane from the moment of his purchasing his pistols until he had +committed the deed for which he was being tried--he did not say anything +about "a wave of insanity," however, though that picturesque phrase +would have aptly described the nature of his plea. He argued that a +letter which was found in the prisoner's pocket, and in which suicide +only was threatened, should be accepted as proof that he had no +intention of killing Miss Reay when he went to the theatre. + +The Recorder, of course, made short work of such a plea. He explained to +the jury that "for a plea of insanity to be successful it must be shown +not merely that it was a matter of fits and starts, but that it was +a definite thing--a total loss of reason and incapability of reason." +Referring to the letter, he said that it seemed to him to argue a +coolness and premeditation incompatible with such insanity as he +described. + +The result was, as might have been anticipated, the jury, without +leaving the box, found Hackman guilty, and he was sentenced to be +hanged. + +Mr. Boswell, who was nearly as fond of hearing death-sentences +pronounced as he was of seeing them carried out, was present in the +court during the trial, and to him Mr. Booth, the brother-in-law of the +prisoner, applied--he himself had been too greatly agitated to be able +to remain in the court--for information as to how Hackman had deported +himself, and Boswell was able to assure him that he had behaved "as +well, sir, as you or any of his friends could wish; with decency, +propriety, and in such a manner as to interest every one present. He +might have pleaded that he shot Miss Reay by accident, but he fairly +told the truth that in a moment of frenzy he did intend it." + +While he was in the condemned cell at Newgate he received a message from +Lord Sandwich to the effect that if he wished for his life, he (Lord +Sandwich) had influence with the King, and might succeed in obtaining +a commutation of his sentence. Hackman replied that he had no wish to +live, but he implored his lordship to give him such assurance that those +whom Miss Reay had left behind her would be carefully looked after, as +would, on meeting her in another world, enable him to make this pleasing +communication to her. + +He spent the few days that remained to him in writing fervid letters to +his friends and in penning moralisings, in a style which was just the +smallest degree more pronounced than that which was fashionable at his +period--the style of the sentimental hero of Richardson and his inferior +followers. + +His execution at Tyburn attracted the most enormous crowds ever seen +upon such an occasion. The carriage in which the wretched man was +conveyed to the gibbet could only proceed at a walking pace; but still, +the vehicle which followed it, containing the Earl of Carlisle and +James Boswell, arrived in good time for the final scene of this singular +tragedy, which for weeks, as the Countess of Ossory wrote to George +Selwyn, was the sole topic of conversation. + +And, as a matter of course, Horace Walpole had something to communicate +to one of his carefully-selected correspondents. Oddly enough it was +to a parson he wrote to express the opinion that he was still uncertain +"whether our clergy are growing Mahometans or not"; adding sagely, "they +certainly are not what they profess themselves; but as you and I should +not agree, perhaps, in assigning the same defects to them, I will not +enter on a subject which I have promised you to drop, all I allude to +now is the shocking murder of Miss Reay by a divine. In my own opinion +we are growing more fit for Bedlam than for Mahomet's paradise. The poor +criminal, I am persuaded, is mad, and the misfortune is the law does +not know how to define the shades of madness; and thus there are twenty +out-pensioners of Bedlam for one that is confined." + +Most persons will come to the conclusion that the judge who tried +Hackman made a most successful attempt to expound to the jury exactly +where the law drew a line in differentiating between the man who should +be sent to Bedlam and the man who should be sent to Tyburn, and will +agree with the justice of the law that condemned to the gallows this +divine of three weeks' standing for committing an atrocious crime, even +though the chances are that Hackman spoke the truth when he affirmed +that he had brought his pistols down to the theatre with no more +felonious intent than to blow out his own brains in the presence of the +lady and to fall dead at her feet. At the same time one is not precluded +from agreeing with Walpole's opinion that the people of his period were +growing more fit for Bedlam than for Eblis. + +The truth is that an extraordinary wave of what was called +"sensibility" was passing over England at that time. It was a wave of +sentimentality--that maudlin sentimentality which was the exquisite +characteristic of the hero and heroine of almost every novel that +attained to any degree of success. To people who have formed their ideas +of the latter half of the eighteenth century from studying Boswell's +_Life of Johnson_, every page of which shows a healthy common sense; +or from the plates of Hogarth--robust even to a point of vulgarity--it +would seem incredible that there should exist in England at practically +the same time a cult of the maudlin and the lachrymose. Such a cult had, +however, obtained so great a hold on a large section of society that all +the satire of Smollett, Sterne, and Goldsmith, was unable to ridicule it +out of existence. + +And the worst of the matter was that the types of these weeping +sentimentalists were not unreal. They began by being unreal, but in the +course of a short time they became real, the fact being that people in +all directions began to frame their conduct and their conversation upon +these flaccid creatures of the unhealthy fancy of third-rate novelists +and fourth-rate poetasters. More than once, it may be remarked, even +in our own time "movements" have had their origin in the fancy of a +painter--in one case of a subtle caricaturist. An artist possessed of +a distorted sense of what is beautiful in woman has been able to set +a certain fashion in the unreal, until people were well-nigh persuaded +that it was the painter who had taken the figures in his pictures from +the persons who had simply sought a cheap notoriety by adopting the +pose and the dress of the scraggy posturantes for whose anatomy he was +responsible. + +So it was that, when certain novel-writers in the eighteenth century, +having no experience of the life which they attempted to depict, brought +forth creatures out of their own unhealthy imaginations, and placed them +before their readers as types of heroes and heroines, the public never +failed to include quite a number of readers who were ready to live up to +all those essentials that constituted the personages of the fiction. + +And not alone over England had the sighs of a perpetually sighing hero +and heroine sent a lachrymose flood; France and Germany, if not actually +inundated, were at least rendered humid by its influence. _The Sorrows +of Werther_ was only one of the many books which helped on the cult of +the sentimental, and it was as widely read in England as in Germany. +Gessner's _Death of Abel_ had an enormous vogue in its English +translation. The boarding-school version of the tale of Abelard and +Heloise was also much wept over both in France and Germany; and the +true story of James Hackman and Martha Reay, as recorded by the +correspondence of the pair, published shortly after the last scene in +the tragedy had been enacted, and reissued with connecting notes some +twelve years ago, might pass only as a somewhat crude attempt to surpass +these masterpieces of fancy-woven woes. James and Martha might have been +as happy as thousands of other Jameses and Marthas have been, but they +chose to believe that the Fates were bothering themselves with this +particular case of James and Martha--they chose to feel that they were +doomed to a life of sorrowful love--at any rate, this was Martha's +notion--and they kept on exchanging emotional sentiments until James's +poor head gave way, and he sought to end up their romance in accordance +with the mode of the best models, stretching himself a pallid corpse at +the feet of his Martha; but then it was that Fate put out a meddlesome +finger, and so caused the scene of the last chapter to take place at +Tyburn. + +The romance of Mr. Hackman and Miss Reay would never have taken place, +if Lord Sandwich had been as exemplary a husband as George III or Dr. +Johnson or Edmund Burke--the only exemplary husbands of the eighteenth +century that one can recall at a moment's notice. Unhappily his lordship +was one of the many examples of the unexemplary husband of that period. +If the Earl of Chesterfield advanced the ill-treatment of a wife to one +of the fine arts, it may be said that the Earl of Sandwich made it one +of the coarse. He was brutal in his treatment of the Countess, and never +more so than when he purchased the pretty child that Miss Reay must have +been at the age of thirteen, and had her educated to suit his tastes. +He went about the transaction with the same deliberation as a gourmand +might display in ordering his dinner. He was extremely fond of music, +so he had the child's education in this direction carefully attended +to. His place at Hinchinbrook had been the scene of the performance of +several oratorios, his lordship taking his place in the orchestra at the +kettledrums; and he hoped that by the time he should have his purchase +sent home, her voice would be equal to the demands put upon it by the +most exacting of the sacred soprano music of Handel or Gluck. + +As it turned out he was not disappointed. Martha Reay, when she went to +live at Hinchinbrook at the age of eighteen, showed herself to be a most +accomplished young lady, as she certainly was a very charming one. She +was found to possess a lovely voice, and was quite fitted to take +her place, not merely in his lordship's music-room, but also in his +drawing-room to which he advanced her. To say that she was treated as +one of his lordship's family would be to convey a wrong impression, +considering how he treated the principal member of his family, but +certainly he introduced her to his guests, and she took her place at his +table at dinner parties. He even put her next to the wife of a bishop +upon one occasion, feeling sure that she would captivate that lady, +and as it turned out, his anticipations were fully realised; only the +bishop's lady, on making inquiries later on, protested that she was +scandalised by being placed in such a position as permitted of her +yielding to the fascinations of a young person occupying a somewhat +equivocal position in the household. + +It was when she was at Hinchinbrook, in October, 1775, that Miss Reay +met the man who was to play so important a part in her life--and death. +Cradock, the "country gentleman," tells in his _Memoirs_ the story of +the first meeting of the two. Lord Sandwich was anxious that a friend of +his own should be elected to a professorship at Cambridge, and Cradock, +having a vote, was invited to use it on behalf of his lordship's +candidate, and to stay for a night at Hinchinbrook on his way back to +London. He travelled in Lord Sandwich's coach, and when in the act of +driving through the gateway at Hinchinbrook, it overtook a certain Major +Reynolds and another officer who was stationed on recruiting duty in the +neighbourhood. Lord Sandwich, being acquainted with Reynolds, dismounted +and invited him and his friend to a family dinner at his lordship's +place that evening. Major Reynolds expressed his appreciation of this +act of courtesy, and introduced his friend as Captain Hackman. The party +was a simple affair. + +It consisted of Lord Sandwich, Miss Reay, another lady, the two +officers, and Mr. Cradock. After coffee had been served two rubbers of +whist were played, and the party broke up. + +This was the first meeting of Hackman and Miss Reay. They seem to have +fallen in love immediately, each with the other, for the first letter in +the correspondence, written in December, 1775, contains a good deal that +suggests the adolescence of a passion. Hackman was a man of education and +some culture, and he showed few signs of developing into that maudlin +sentimentalist who corresponded with the lady a year or two later. He +was but twenty-three years of age, the son of a retired officer in the +navy, who had sent him to St. John's College, Cambridge, and afterwards +bought him a commission in the 68th Foot. He was probably only an +ensign when he was stationed at Huntingdon, but being in charge of the +recruiting party, enjoyed the temporary rank of captain. + +He must have had a pretty fair conceit of his own ability as a +correspondent, for he kept a copy of his love letters. Of course, there +is no means of ascertaining if he kept copies of all that he ever wrote; +he may have sent off some in the hot passion of the moment, but those +which passed into the hands of his brother-in-law and were afterwards +published, were copies which he had retained. Miss Reay was doubtless +discreet enough to destroy the originals before they had a chance of +falling into the hands of Lord Sandwich. It is difficult for us who +live in this age of scrawls and "correspondence cards" to imagine the +existence of that enormous army of letter-writers who flourished +their quills in the eighteenth century, for the entertainment of their +descendants in the nineteenth and twentieth; but still more difficult +is it to understand how, before the invention of any mechanical means +of reproducing manuscript, these voluminous correspondents first made +a rough draft of every letter, then corrected and afterwards copied +it, before sending it--securing a frank from a friendly Member of +Parliament--to its destination. + +Superlatively difficult is it to imagine an ardent lover sitting down to +transcribe into the pages of a notebook the outpourings of his passion. +But this is what Ensign Hackman did, although so far as the consequences +of his love-making were concerned, he is deserving of a far higher place +among great lovers than Charlotte's Werther, or Mr. Swinburne's Dolores. +Charlotte we know "went on cutting bread and butter" after the death of +her honourable lover; but poor little Miss Reay was the victim of the +passion which she undoubtedly fanned into a flame of madness. Ensign +Hackman made copies of his love-letters, and we are grateful to him, for +by their aid we can perceive the progress of his disease. They are +like the successive pictures in a biograph series lately exhibited at a +conversazione of the Royal Society, showing the development of a blossom +into a perfect flower. We see by the aid of these letters how he gave +way under the attack of what we should now call the bacillus of that +maudlin sentimentality which was in the air in his day. + +He began his love-letters like a gallant officer, but ended them in the +strain of the distracted curate who had been jilted just when he has +laid down the cork lino in the new study and got rid of the plumbers. He +wrote merrily of his "Corporal Trim," who was the bearer of a "billet" +from her. "He will be as good a soldier to Cupid as to Mars, I dare say. +And Mars and Cupid are not now to begin their acquaintance, you know." +Then he goes on to talk in a fine soldierly strain of the drum "beating +for volunteers to Bacchus. In plain English, the drum tells me dinner is +ready, for a drum gives us bloody-minded heroes an appetite for eating +as well as for fighting.... Adieu--whatever hard service I may have +after dinner, no quantity of wine shall make me let drop or forget my +appointment with you tomorrow. We certainly were not seen yesterday, for +reasons I will give you." + +This letter was written on December 7th, and it was followed by another +the next day, and a still longer one the day following. In fact, +Corporal Trim must have been kept as busy as his original in the service +of Uncle Toby, during the month of December, his duty being to receive +the lady's letters, as well as to deliver the gentleman's, and he seems +to have been equally a pattern of fidelity. + +Hackman's letters at this time were models of good taste, with only +the smallest amount of swagger in them. His intentions were strictly +honourable, and they were not concealed within any cocoon of sentimental +phraseology. One gathers from his first letters that he was a simple and +straightforward gentleman, who, having fallen pretty deeply in love +with a young woman, seeks to make her his wife at the earliest possible +moment. Unfortunately however, the lady had fallen under the influence +of the prevailing affectation, and her scheme of life did not include a +commonplace marriage with a subaltern in a marching regiment. One might +be disposed to say that she knew when she was well off. The aspiration +to be made "a respectable woman" by marriage in a church was not +sufficiently strong in her to compel her to sacrifice the many good +things with which she was surrounded, in order to realise it. But, of +course, she was ready to pose as a miserable woman, linked to a man +whom she did not love, but too honourable to leave him, and far too +thoughtful for the career of the man whom she did love with all her soul +ever to become a burden to him. She had read the ballad of "Auld Robin +Gray"--she quoted it in full in one of her letters--and she was greatly +interested to find how closely her case resembled that of the wife in +the poem. She had brought herself to think of the man who had bought her +just as he would buy a peach tree, or a new tulip, as her "benefactor." +Did she not owe to him the blessing of a good education, and the culture +of her voice, her knowledge of painting--nay, her "keep" for several +years, and her introduction to the people of quality who visited at +Hinchinbrook and at the Admiralty? She seemed to think it impossible +for any one to doubt that Lord Sandwich had acted toward her with +extraordinary generosity, and that she would be showing the most +contemptible ingratitude were she to forsake so noble a benefactor. But +all the same she found Hinchinbrook intolerably dull at times, and she +was so pleased at the prospect of having a lover, that she came to fancy +that she loved the first one who turned up. + +She was undoubtedly greatly impressed by the ballad of "Auld Robin +Gray," and she at once accepted the rle of the unhappy wife, only she +found it convenient to modify one rather important line-- + +"I fain would think o' Jamie, but that would be a sin." + +She was fain to think on her Jamie whether it was a sin or not, but she +did so without having the smallest intention of leaving her Auld Robin +Gray. So whimsical an interpretation of the poem could scarcely occur +to any one not under the influence of the sentimental malady of the day; +but it served both for Miss Reay and her Jamie. They accepted it, and +became deeply sensible of its pathos as applied to themselves. Ensign +Hackman assured her that he was too high-minded to dream of making love +to her under the roof of Lord Sandwich, her "benefactor." + +"Our love, the inexorable tyrant of our hearts," he wrote, "claims his +sacrifices, but does not bid us insult his lordship's walls with it. +How civilly did he invite me to Hinchinbrook in October last, though an +unknown recruiting officer. How politely himself first introduced me to +himself! Often has the recollection made me struggle with my passion. +Still it shall restrain it on this side honour." + +This was in reply to her remonstrance, and probably she regretted that +she had been so strenuous in pointing out to him how dreadful it would +be were she to show herself wanting in gratitude to Lord Sandwich. She +wanted to play the part of Jenny, the lawful wife of Robin Gray, with +as few sacrifices as possible, and she had no idea of sacrificing +young Jamie, the lover, any more than she had of relinquishing the many +privileges she enjoyed at Hinchinbrook by making Jamie the lover into +Jamie the husband. + +It is very curious to find Hackman protesting to her all this time that +his passions are "wild as the torrent's roar," apologising for making +his simile water when the element most congenial to his nature was fire. +"Swift had water in his brain. I have a burning coal of fire; your hand +can light it up to rapture, rage, or madness. Men, real men, have never +been wild enough for my admiration, it has wandered into the ideal world +of fancy. Othello (but he should have put himself to death in his wife's +sight, not his wife), Zanga are my heroes. Milk-and-water passions are +like sentimental comedy." + +Read in the light of future events this letter has a peculiar +significance. Although he became more sentimental than the hero of any +of the comedies at which he was sneering, he was still able to make an +honest attempt to act up to his ideal of Othello. "_He should have put +himself to death in his wife's sight_." It will be remembered that he +pleaded at his trial that he had no design upon the life of Miss Reay, +but only aimed at throwing himself dead at her feet. + +Equally significant are some of the passages in the next letters which +he wrote to her. They show that even within the first month of his +acquaintance with his Martha his mind had a peculiar bent. He was giving +his attention to Hervey's _Meditations_, and takes pains to point out to +her two passages which he affirms to be as fine as they are natural. Did +ever love-letter contain anything so grisly? "A beam or two finds its +way through the grates (of the vault), and reflects a feeble glimness +from the nails of the coffins." This is one passage--ghastly enough +in all conscience. But it is surpassed by the others which he quotes: +"Should the haggard skeleton lift a clattering hand." Respecting the +latter he remarks, "I know not whether the epithet 'haggard' might +not be spared." It is possible that the lady on receiving this curious +love-letter was under the impression that the whole passage might have +been spared her. + +But he seems to have been supping off horrors at this time, for he goes +on to tell a revolting story about the black hole of Calcutta; and then +he returns with zest to his former theme of murder and suicide. He had +been reading the poem of "Faldoni and Teresa," by Jerningham, and he +criticises it quite admirably. "The melancholy tale will not take up +three words, though Mr. J. has bestowed upon it 335 melancholy lines," +he tells the young lady. "Two lovers, meeting with an invincible +object to their union, determined to put an end to their existence +with pistols. The place they chose for the execution of their terrible +project was a chapel that stood at a little distance from the house. +They even decorated the altar for the occasion, they paid a particular +attention to their own dress. Teresa was dressed in white with +rose-coloured ribbands. The same coloured ribbands were tied to the +pistols. Each held the ribband that was fastened to the other's trigger, +which they drew at a certain signal." His criticism of the poem includes +the remark that Faldoni and Teresa might be prevented from making +proselytes by working up their affecting story so as to take off the +edge of the dangerous example they offer. This, he says, the author has +failed to do, and he certainly proves his point later by affirming that +"while I talk of taking off the dangerous edge of their example, they +have almost listed me under their bloody banners." + +This shows the morbid tendency of the man's mind, though it must be +confessed that nearly all the remarks which he makes on ordinary topics +are eminently sane and well considered. + +A few days later we find him entering with enthusiasm into a scheme, +suggested by her, of meeting while she was on her way to London, and it +is plain from the rapturous letter which he wrote to her that their plot +was successful; but when she reached town she had a great deal to occupy +her, so that it is not strange she should neglect him for a time. The +fact was, as Cradock states in his _Memoirs_, that the unpopularity of +Lord Sandwich and Miss Reay had increased during the winter to such a +point that it became dangerous for them to show themselves together in +public. Ribald ballads were sung under the windows of the Admiralty, and +Cradock more than once heard some strange insults shouted out by +people in the park. It was at this time that she spoke to Cradock about +appearing in opera, and he states that it reached his ears that she had +been offered three thousand pounds and a free benefit (a possible extra +five hundred) for one season's performances. + +Now if she had really been in love with Hackman this was surely the +moment when she should have gone to him, suffered him to marry her, and +thus made up by a few years on the lyric stage for any deficiency in his +fortune or for the forfeiture of any settlement her "benefactor" might +have been disposed to make in her favour. But she seems to have shown a +remarkable amount of prudence throughout the whole of her intrigue, and +she certainly had a premonition of the danger to which she was exposed +by her connection with him. "Fate stands between us," she wrote in +reply to one of his impetuous upbraiding letters. "We are doomed to be +wretched. And I, every now and then, think some terrible catastrophe +will be the result of our connection. 'Some dire event,' as Storge +prophetically says in _Jephtha_, 'hangs over our heads.' Oh, that it +were no crime to quit this world like Faldoni and Teresa... by your hand +I could even die with pleasure. I know I could." + +An extraordinary premonition, beyond doubt, to write thus, and one is +tempted to believe that she had ceased for a moment merely to play the +part of the afflicted heroine. But her allusion to Jephtha and, later in +the same letter, to a vow which she said she had made never to marry +him so long as she was encumbered with debts, alleging that this was +the "insuperable reason" at which she had hinted on a previous occasion, +makes one suspicious. One feels that if she had not been practising the +music of _Jephtha_ she would not have thought about her vow not to marry +him until she could go to him free from debt. Why, she had only to sing +three times to release herself from that burden. + +Some time afterwards she seems to have suggested such a way of getting +over her difficulties, but it is pretty certain she knew that he would +never listen to her. Her position at this time was undoubtedly one +of great difficulty. Hackman was writing to her almost every day, and +becoming more high-minded and imperious in every communication, and she +was in terror lest some of his letters should fall into the hands of +Lord Sandwich. She was ready to testify to his lordship's generosity in +educating her to suit his own tastes, but she suspected its strength to +withstand such a strain as would be put on it if he came upon one of Mr. +Hackman's impetuous letters. + +She thought that when she had induced her lover to join his regiment +in Ireland she had extricated herself from one of the difficulties that +surrounded her; and had she been strong enough to refrain from +writing to the man, she might have been saved from the result of her +indiscretion. Unhappily for herself, however, she felt it incumbent on +her to resume her correspondence with him. Upon one occasion she sent +him a bank-note for fifty pounds, but this he promptly returned with +a very proper letter. Indeed, all his letters from Ireland are +interesting, being far less impassioned than those which she wrote to +him. Again she mentioned having read _Werther_, and he promptly begged +of her to send the book to him. "If you do not," he adds, "I positively +never will forgive you. Nonsense, to say it will make me unhappy, or +that I shall not be able to read it! Must I pistol myself because a +thick-blooded German has been fool enough to set the example, or because +a German novelist has feigned such a story?" + +But it would appear that she knew the man's nature better than he +himself did, for she quickly replied: "The book you mention is just the +only book you should never read. On my knees I beg that you will never, +never read it!" But if he never read _Werther_ he was never without some +story of the same type to console him for its absence, and he seems to +have gloated over the telling of all to her. One day he is giving her +the particulars of a woman who committed suicide in Enniskillen because +she married one man while she was in love with another. His comment is, +"She, too, was _Jenny_ and had her _Robin Gray_." His last letter from +Ireland was equally morbid. In it he avowed his intention, if he were +not granted leave of absence for the purpose of visiting her, of selling +out of his regiment. He kept his promise but too faithfully. He sold out +and crossed to England without delay, arriving in London only to find +Miss Reay extremely ill. + +His attempts to cheer her convalescence cannot possibly be thought very +happy. He describes his attendance upon the occasion of the hanging of +Dr. Dodd, the clergyman who had committed forgery; and this reminds +him that he was unfortunately out of England when one Peter Tolosa was +hanged for killing his sweetheart, so that he had no chance of taking +part in this ceremony as well, although, he says, unlike George +S.--meaning Selwyn--he does not make a profession of attending +executions; adding that "the friend and historian of Paoli hired a +window by the year, looking out on the Grass Market in Edinburgh, +where malefactors were hanged." This reference to Boswell is somewhat +sinister. All this letter is devoted to a minute account of the +execution of Dodd, and another deals with the revolting story of the +butchery of Monmouth, which he suggests to her as an appropriate subject +for a picture. + +At this time he was preparing for ordination, and, incidentally, for +the culmination of the tragedy of his life. He had undoubtedly become a +monomaniac, his "subject" being murder and suicide. His last lurid story +was of a footman who, "having in vain courted for some time a servant +belonging to Lord Spencer, at last caused the banns to be put up at +church without her consent, which she forbad. Being thus disappointed +he meditated revenge, and, having got a person to write a letter to her +appointing a meeting, he contrived to waylay her, and surprise her in +Lord Spencer's park. On her screaming he discharged a pistol at her and +made his escape." + +"Oh love, love, canst thou not be content to make fools of thy slaves," +he wrote, "to make them miserable, to make them what thou pleasest? Must +thou also goad them on to crimes?" + +Only two more letters did he write to his victim. He took Orders and +received the living of Wiveton, in Norfolk, seeming to take it for +granted that, in spite of her repeated refusals to marry him, she +would relent when she heard of the snug parsonage. This was acting on +precisely the same lines as the butler of whom he wrote. When he found +that Miss Reay was determined to play the part taken by the servant in +the same story, the wretched man hurried up to London and bought his +pistols. + +The whole story is a pitiful one. That the man was mad no one except a +judge and jury could doubt. That his victim was amply punished for her +indiscretion in leading him on even the strictest censor of conduct must +allow. + + + + +THE COMEDY AT DOWNING STREET + +IT was possibly because she was still conscious of having occupied the +commanding position of one of the royal bridesmaids, in spite of the +two years that had elapsed since King George III married his homely +Mecklenburg princess, that Lady Susan Fox-Strangways, the daughter of +the first Earl of Ilchester, became so autocratic during the rehearsal +of the Downing Street Comedy. A pretty fair amount of comedy as well +as tragedy--with a preponderance of farce--has been played in the same +street from time to time, but the special piece in which Lady Susan +was interesting herself was to be played at the house of Sir Francis +Dlavai, and its name was _The School for Lovers_. It had been +originally produced by Mr. David Garrick at Drury Lane Theatre, an +occasion upon which a young Irish gentleman called O'Brien, who had +disgraced himself by becoming an actor, had attained great distinction. +The piece had drawn the town during its protracted run of eight nights, +and Sir Francis Delaval's company of amateurs perceived that it was just +the play for them. It was said by the critics that, for the first time +for many years, an actor had been found capable of playing the part of +a gentleman of fashion as if to the manner born. They referred to the +acting of Mr. O'Brien, about whose gentlemanly qualities there could +be no doubt. Even his own brother actors affirmed that no such perfect +gentleman as that of O'Brien's creating had ever been seen on the stage. +So said Lee Lewes. Another excellent judge, named Oliver Goldsmith, +declared that William O'Brien was an elegant and accomplished actor. + +Of course this was the character, every aspiring amateur affirmed, to +which a gentleman-born would do ample justice. When O'Brien, who was an +actor, had represented the part with distinction, how much better +would it not be played by the real thing--the real gentleman who might +undertake it? + +That was the very plausible reasoning of the "real gentleman" who hoped +to win applause by appearing in O'Brien's part in the comedy at Downing +Street. But when the piece was rehearsed with the young Viscount +B-------- in the character, Lady Susan threw up her hands, and +threatened to throw up her part as well. + +"Lud!" she cried to her associates in the temporary green-room, "Lud! +you would fancy that he had never seen a gentleman of fashion in his +life! Why cannot he act himself instead of somebody else? When he comes +from rehearsal he is the very character itself, but the moment he begins +to speak his part he is no more the part than the link-boy." + +Every one present agreed with her--the young gentlemen who were anxious +to have the reversion of the part were especially hearty in their +acquiescence. + +But there could be no doubt about the matter, Lord B------ was +deplorably incompetent. He was not even consistently incompetent, for +in one scene in the second act, where there was an element of boisterous +humour, he was tame and spiritless; but in the love-making scene, which +brought the third act to a close, he was awkward, and so anxious to show +his spirit that he became as vulgar as any country clown making advances +to his Meg or Polly. + +And of course he felt all the time that he was doing amazingly well. + +Lady Susan was angry at first, and then she became witty. Her sallies, +directed against him in every scene, were, however, lost upon him, no +matter how calculated they were to sting him; he was too self-satisfied +to be affected by any criticism that might be offered to him by man or +woman. + +And then Lady Susan was compelled to abandon her wit and to become +natural. She flounced off the stage when her lover (in the play) was +more than commonly loutish, and burst into tears of vexation in the arms +of her dear friend Lady Sarah Lennox. + +"I never had such a chance until now," she cried. "Never, oh, never! +The part might have been written for me; and I implore of you, Sarah, to +tell me candidly if Mrs. Abington or Mrs. Clive could act it with more +sprightliness than I have shown in that last scene?" + +"Impossible, my sweet Sue!" cried her friend. "I vow that I have never +seen anything more arch than your mock rejection of your lover, only to +draw him on." + +"You dear creature!" cried Lady Sue. "You are a true friend and a +competent critic, Sarah. But what signifies my acting, perfect though +it be, when that--that idiot fails to respond in any way to the spirit +which I display? The whole play will be damned, and people who know +nothing of the matter will spread the report that 'twas my lack of power +that brought about the disaster." + +"They cannot be so vile," said Lady Sarah soothingly. + +"But they will. I know how vile some of our friends can be when it suits +them, and when they are jealous of the acquirements of another. They +will sneer at my best scenes--oh, the certainty that they will do so +will be enough to make my best scenes fail. But no! they shall not have +the chance of maligning me. I will go to Sir Francis and resign my part. +Yes, I will! I tell you I shall!" + +The indignant young lady, with something of the stage atmosphere still +clinging to her, flung herself with the gesture of a tortured heroine, +proud and passionate, toward the door of the room to which the two +ladies had retired. But before she had her fingers on the handle the +door opened and Sir Francis Dlavai entered. + +"A thousand pardons, my dear ladies," he cried, bowing to the carpet. "I +had forgot for the moment that when a man turns his house into a theatre +he can call no room in it his own. But I should be a churl to suggest +that any room in my poor house would not be made beautiful by the +presence of your ladyships. After all, this is only my library, and a +library is only a polite name for a dormitory, and a--but what is this? +I said not a lacrymatory." + +He was looking curiously into Lady Susan's face, which retained the +marks of her recent tears. + +"Dear Sir Francis, you have come in good time," said Lady Sarah boldly. +"Here is this poor child weeping her heart out because she is condemned +to play the part of--of what's her name?--the lady in the play who had +to make love to an ass?" + +"Oh, sir, mine is a far worse plight," said Lady Susan, pouting. "It +were bad enough for one to have to make love to an ass, but how much +worse is't not for one to be made love to by--by--my Lord B------?" + +"That were a calculation far above my powers," said Sir Francis. "My +lord has never made love to me, but if rumour and the gossip at White's +speak even a soupon of truth, his lordship is well practised in the +art--if love-making is an art." + +"Sir, 'tis a combination of all the arts," said Lady Susan; "and yet +my lord cannot simulate the least of them, which is that of being a +gentleman, when he makes love to me on the stage, through the character +of Captain Bellaire in our play." + +"To be plain, Sir Francis," said Lady Sarah, as though the other had not +been plain enough in her explanation, "To be plain, Lady Susan, +rather than be associated in any measure with such a failure as your +theatricals are bound to be if my Lord B------ remains in the part of +her lover, has made up her mind to relinquish her part. But believe me, +sir, she does so with deep regret." + +"Hence these tears," said Sir Francis. "My poor child, you are indeed in +a pitiable state if you are so deeply chagrined at a clumsy love-making +merely on the stage." + +"Merely on the stage?" cried Lady Susan. "Lud, Sir Francis, have you not +the wit to see that to be made love to indifferently on the stage is far +more unendurable than it would be in private, since in the one case you +have the eyes of all the people upon you, whereas in the other case you +are as a rule alone?" + +"As a rule," said Sir Francis. "Yes, I perceive the difference, and I +mingle mine own turgid tears with your limpid drops. But we cannot spare +you from our play." + +"No, you cannot, Sir Francis, but you can spare Lord B------, and so can +the play," suggested Lady Sarah. + +"What, you would have me turn him out of the part?" said Sir Francis. + +"Even so--but with politeness," said Lady Sarah. + +"Perhaps your ladyship has solved the problem how to kick a man out of +your house politely. If so, I would willingly pay you for the recipe; I +have been in search of it all my life," said Sir Francis. + +"Surely, sir, if you kick a man hard enough with your slippers on he +will leave your house as surely as if you wear the boots of a Life +Guardsman," said Lady Susan timidly. + +"I doubt it not, madam; but before trying such an experiment it would be +well to make sure that the fellow does not wear boots himself." + +"Psha! Sir Francis. If a man were to beg leave to measure the thickness +of his enemy's soles before offering to kick him there would be very few +cases of assault and battery," cried Lady Susan. + +"That is good philosophy--see what we have come to--philosophy, when we +started talking of lovemaking," said Sir Francis. + +"However we have digressed in conversation, sir, our minds remain +steadfast on the point round which we have been circling," said Lady +Sarah. + +"And that is------" + +"That Lord B------must go." + +The door was thrown open and Lord B------ entered. + +"A good preliminary--one must come before one goes," whispered Sir +Francis to the ladies. + +His lordship was evidently perturbed. He scarcely bowed either to Sir +Francis or the ladies. + +"I was told that you had come hither, Sir Francis," he said, "so I +followed you." + +"You do me honour, my lord," said Sir Francis. + +"I took a liberty, sir; but this is not a time for punctilio. I have +come to resign my part in your play, sir," said his lordship. + +"Oh, surely not, my lord," cried Sir Francis. "What would the _School +for Lovers_ be without Bellaire, my lord? Why only now Lady Susan was +saying--what is it that your ladyship said?" + +"It had something to do with philosophy and the sole of a grenadier," +said Lady Sarah interposing. + +"Nay, was it not that his lordship's impersonation made you think of +a scene from _Midsummer Night's Dream?_" said Sir Francis. "One of +the most beautiful of Shakespeare's plays, is't not, my lord?--fantasy +mingled with irony, an oasis of fairyland in the midst of a desert of +daily life." + +"I know nothing about your fairyland, sir, but I have been told +within the hour that her ladyship"--he bowed in the direction of Lady +Susan--"has, during the three rehearsals which we have had of the play, +been sneering in a covert way at my acting of the part of Bellaire, +although to my face she seemed delighted, and thus----" + +"Are you sure that your informant was right in his interpretation of her +ladyship's words? Surely your lordship--a man of the world--would have +been sensible of every shade of her ladyship's meaning?" + +"I have been told by one on whose judgment I can rely that Lady Susan +was speaking in sarcasm when she complimented me before the rest of the +company. I did not take her as doing so for myself, I must confess. I +have always believed--on insufficient evidence, I begin to fear--that +her ladyship was a discriminating critic--even now if she were to assure +me that she was not speaking in sarcasm----" + +"Oh, lud! he is relenting," whispered Lady Sarah. + +"Did you speak, madam?" said his lordship. + +"I was protesting against a too early exercise of your lordship's +well-known spirit of forgiveness," said her ladyship. + +"I thank you, Lady Sarah; I am, I know, too greatly inclined to take a +charitable view of--of--Why, sink me if she, too, is not trying to +make me look ridiculous!" cried his lordship. + +"Nay, my lord, I cannot believe that Lady Sarah would be at the pains to +do for you what you can so well do for yourself," remarked Lady Susan. + +His lordship looked at her--his mouth was slightly open--then he gazed +at the smiling features of the beautiful Lady Sarah, lastly at the +perfectly expressionless features of Sir Francis. + +"A plot--a plot!" he murmured. Then he struck a commonplace theatrical +attitude, the "exit attitude" of the man who tells you that his time +will come, though appearances are against him for the moment. He pointed +a firm forefinger at Lady Susan, saying: "I wash my hands clear of you +all. I have done with you and your plays. Get another man to fill my +place if you can." + +Then he rushed out through the open door. He seemed to have a shrewd +suspicion that if he were to wait another moment one at least of the +girls would have an effective answer to his challenge, and it is quite +likely that his suspicion was well founded. As it was, however, owing +to his wise precipitancy he heard no more than the pleasant laughter--it +really was pleasant laughter, though it did not sound so to him--of the +two girls. + +But when the sound of the slamming of the hall-door reached the library +the laughter in that apartment suddenly ceased. Sir Francis Dlavai +looked at each of the ladies, and both of them looked at him. For +some moments no word was exchanged between them. At last one of them +spoke--it was, strange to say, the man. + +"This is vastly fine, ladies," he remarked. "You have got rid of your +_bte-noire_, Lady Susan; that, I say, is vastly fine, but where are you +to find a _bte-blanche_ to take his place?" + +"Surely we can find some gentleman willing to act the part of Bellaire?" +said Lady Sarah. + +"Oh, there is not like to be a lack of young gentlemen willing to take +the part, but we want not merely willingness, but competence as well; +and the piece must be played on Wednesday, even though the part of +Bellaire be left out," said Sir Francis. + +Lady Susan looked blankly at the floor. She seemed ready to renew the +tears which she had wept on the shoulder of her friend a short time +before. + +"Have I been too hasty?" she said. "Alas! I fear that I have been +selfish. I thought only of the poor figure that I should cut with such a +lover--and with all the world looking on, too! I should have given more +thought to your distress, Sir Francis." + +"Say no more, I pray of you; better have no play at all than one that +all our kind friends will damn with the utmost cordiality and good +breeding," said Sir Francis. + +"True, sir, but think of the ladies' dresses!" said Lady Sarah. "What +the ladies say is, 'Better produce a play that will be cordially damned +rather than deprive us of our chance of displaying our new dresses.'" + +"Heavens!" cried Sir Francis, "I had not thought of the new dresses. +Lady Susan, you will e'en have to face the anger of your sisters--'tis +not I that will tarry for such an event. I mean to fly to Bath +or Brighthelmstone, or perchance to Timbuctoo, until the storm be +overpast." + +"Nay, nay,'tis not a time for jesting, sir; let us not look at the +matter from the standpoint of men, who do not stand but run away, let us +be women for once, and scheme," said Lady Susan. + +"That is woman's special province," said Sir Francis. "Pray begin, my +lady--'twill be strange if your ladyship and Lady Sarah do not succeed +in----" + +"Psha! there is but one man in England who could play the part of +Bellaire on Wednesday," cried Lady Sarah. "Ay, sir, and he is the only +one in England capable of playing it." + +"Then we shall have him on our stage if I should have to pay a thousand +pounds for his services," said Sir Francis. "But where is he to be +found?" + +"Cannot you guess, sir?" asked Lady Sarah, smiling. + +Sir Francis looked puzzled, but Lady Sue started and caught her friend +by the wrist. + +"You do not mean----" she began. + +"Lud! these girls! Here's a scheme if you will!" muttered Sir Francis. + +"Ay, if you will, Sir Francis. You know that I mean Mr. O'Brien himself +and none other," cried Lady Sarah. + +"Impossible!" cried Lady Susan. "My father would never consent to my +acting in a play with a real actor--no, not even if he were Mr. Garrick +himself. How could you suggest such a thing, Sarah?" + +"What, do you mean to tell me that you would refuse to act with Mr. +O'Brien?" asked Lady Sarah. + +"Oh, hear the child!" cried Lady Susan. "She asks me a question to which +she knows only one answer is possible, and looks all the time as though +she expected just the opposite answer!" + +"I know well that there are a good many ladies who would give all that +they possess for the chance of acting with Mr. O'Brien, and you are +among the number, my dear," laughed Lady Sarah. + +"I dare not--I dare not. And yet----" murmured the other girl. + +Sir Francis had been lost in thought while the two had been bickering +over the body of O'Brien. He had walked across the room and seated +himself for some moments. Now he rose and held up a finger. + +"Ladies, this is a serious matter for all of us," he said. And he spoke +the truth to a greater depth than he was aware of. "'Tis a very serious +matter. If we get Mr. O'Brien to play the part, the piece will be the +greatest success of the day. If we fail to get him, our theatricals will +be damned to a certainty. Lady Susan, will you consent to play with him +if his name does not appear upon the bill?" + +"But every one would know Mr. O'Brien," she faltered, after a pause that +was overcharged with excitement. + +"Yes, in fact; but no one will have official cognizance of him, and, +as you must know, in these matters of etiquette everything depends upon +official cognizance." + +"My father--" + +"His lordship will have no _locus standi_ in the case. He cannot take +notice of an act that is not officially recognisable," suggested Sir +Francis, the sophist. + +"If you assure me---- But is't true that Mr. O'Brien only ceased to +become a gentleman when he became an actor?" said Lady Susan. + +"I have not heard that he relinquished the one part when he took up the +other," said Sir Francis. "I wonder that you have not met him at the +houses of some of our friends--he is more popular even than Mr. Garrick. +The family of O'Brien----" + +"All kings, I doubt not," said Lady Susan. "There were a good many +kings in Ireland in the old days, I believe. I read somewhere that +ninety-seven kings were killed in one battle, and still there were quite +enough left to carry on the quarrels of the country. Oh, yes, there +were plenty of kings, and their descendants have--well, descended. Mr. +O'Brien descended pretty far when he became a play-actor." + +"If he condescends to take up the part of Bellaire at the eleventh hour +to pluck our theatricals out of the fire we shall have every reason to +be grateful to him," said Sir Francis with a severe air of reproof. He +was beginning to be tired--as others in his place have been from time to +time--of the capriciousness of his company of amateurs. + +"You are right, sir," said Lady Sarah. "Come, my dear Sue, cease to give +yourself the airs of those ladies who, Mr. Garrick affirms, have been +the plague of his life. If Mr. O'Brien agrees to come to our rescue you +should have no feeling but of gratitude to him. Surely 'twere churlish +on the part of a damsel when a gallant knight rides up to her rescue to +look at his horse in the mouth." + +"I am thinking of my father," said the other. "But I am disposed to +accept the risk of the situation. You will promise that his name will +not appear in the bills, Sir Francis?" + +"I will promise to do my best to save you from the contamination of +having your name made as immortal as Mr. O'Brien's," said Sir Francis. + +Lady Sarah laughed, and so did her friend--after a pause sufficient to +allow the colour that had come to her face at the stinging reproof to +die away. + +"I hope that you may catch your bird, sir--your eagle--your Irish +eagle." + +"If I could tell him that Lady Sarah Lennox was to be in the cast of the +play I should need no further lure for him," said Sir Francis, making +his most exquisite bow to her. + +"Oh, sir, you overwhelm me," said Lady Sarah, sinking in her most +ravishing courtesy. + +Lady Susan coloured once more, and her foot played a noiseless tattoo on +the floor, for she perceived all that Sir Francis's compliment implied. +Lady Sarah was the most beautiful girl in England, while Lady Susan was +not even second to her, a fact of which she was as well aware as her +friends. + +This was how Lady Susan Fox-Strangways first met Mr. O'Brien, the +actor whom Garrick had brought from Ireland in the year 1762. He +good-naturedly agreed to help Sir Francis Dlavai in his extremity, and +his ready Irish tact enabled him to be the first to stipulate that his +name should not appear in the bills--a condition with which Sir Francis +complied, drawing a long breath. + +"Mr. O'Brien," he said, "should the stage ever fail you, a fortune +awaits you if you undertake the duty of teaching gentlemen the art of +being a gentleman." + +"Ah, sir, the moment that art enters the door the gentleman flies out +by the window," said the actor. "It is Nature, not art, that makes a +gentleman." + +One can well believe that Lady Susan Fox-Strangways, with all the pride +of her connection with a peerage nearly ten years old, treated Mr. +O'Brien's accession to a place in the company of amateurs with some +hauteur, though it was said that she fell in love with him at once. On +consideration, her bearing of hauteur which we have ventured to assign +to her, so far from being incompatible with her having fallen in love +with him, would really be a natural consequence of such an accident, and +the deeper she felt herself falling the more she would feel it necessary +to assert her position, if only for the sake of convincing herself that +it was impossible for her to forget herself so far as to think of an +Irish play-actor as occupying any other position in regard to her than +that of a diversion for the moment. + +It was equally a matter of course that Lady Sarah should have an +instinct of what was taking place. She had attended several of the +rehearsals previously in the capacity of adviser to her friend, for Lady +Susan had a high opinion of her critical capacity; but not until two +rehearsals had taken place with O'Brien as Bellaire was she able to +resume her attendance at Downing Street. Before half an hour had passed +this astute lady had seen, first, that O'Brien made every other man in +the cast seem a lout; and, secondly, that Lady Susan felt that every man +in the world was a lout by the side of O'Brien. + +She hoped to discover what were the impressions of O'Brien, but she +found herself foiled: the man was too good an actor to betray himself. +The fervour which he threw into the character when making love to Lady +Susan had certainly the semblance of a real passion, but what did this +mean more than that Mr. O'Brien was a convincing actor? + +When she arrived at this point in her consideration of the situation +Lady Sarah lost herself, and began to long with all her heart that the +actor were making love to her--taking her hand with that incomparable +devotion to--was it his art?--which he showed when Lady Susan's hand was +raised, with a passionate glance into her eyes, to his lips; putting his +arm about her waist, while his lips, trembling under the force of the +protestations of undying devotion which they were uttering, were almost +touching Lady Susan's ear. Before the love scene was over Lady Sarah was +in love with the actor, if not with the man, O'Brien. + +So was every lady in the cast. O'Brien was the handsomest actor of the +day. He had been careful of his figure at a time when men of fashion +lived in such a way as made the preservation of a figure well-nigh +impossible. Every movement was grace itself with him, and the period +was one in which the costume of a man gave him every chance of at least +imitating a graceful man. All the others in the cast of the play seemed +imitating the gracefulness of O'Brien, and every man of them seemed +a clown beside him. They gave themselves countless graces, but he was +grace itself. + +Lady Sarah saw everything that was to be seen and said nothing. She was +wise. She knew that in due time her friend would tell her all there was +to be told. + +She was not disappointed. The play was produced, and of course every +one recognised O'Brien in the part, although the bill--printed in gold +letters on a satin ground, with a charming allegorical design by Lady +Diana Spencer, showing a dozen dainty cupids going to school with +satchels--stated that Bellaire would be represented by "a gentleman." + +Equally as a matter of course a good many of the spectators affirmed +that it was intolerable that a play-actor should be smuggled into a +company of amateurs, some of them belonging to the best families. And +then to attempt a deception of the audience by suggesting that O'Brien +was a gentleman--oh, the thing was unheard of! So said some of the +ladies, adding that they thought it rather sad that Lady Susan was not +better-looking. + +But of the success of the entertainment there could not be a doubt. It +was the talk of the town for a month, and every one noticed--even her +own father--that Lady Susan was looking extremely thin and very pale. + +Lady Sarah said that she had taken the diversion of the theatricals too +seriously. + +"I saw it from the first, my dear Sue," she said. + +Sue sprang from her chair, and it would be impossible for any one to say +now that she was over pale. + +"You saw it--you--what was it that you saw from the first?" she cried. + +Lady Sarah looked at her and laughed. + +"Ah, that is it--what was it that I saw from the first?" she said. "What +I was going to say that I saw was simply that you were throwing yourself +too violently into the production of the play. That was why you insisted +on poor Lord B------'s getting his _cong_. It was a mistake--I saw that +also." + +"When did you see that?" + +"When I saw you taking part in that love scene with Mr. O'Brien." + +"What mean you by that, Lady Sarah?" + +"Exactly what you fancy I mean, Lady Susan." + +Lady Susan gazed at her blankly at first, then very pitifully. In +another moment she had flung herself on her knees at the feet of her +friend and was weeping in her lap. + +The friend was full of sympathy. + +"You poor child!" she murmured, "how could you help it? I vow that I +myself--yes, for some minutes--I was as deep in love with the fellow as +you yourself were. But, of course, you were with him longer--every day. +Lud! what a handsome rascal he is, to be sure. His lordship must take +you to the country without delay. Has the fellow tried to transfer the +character in the play beyond the footlights?" + +"Never--never!" cried Susan. "Sir Francis was right--he is a gentleman. +That is the worst of it!" + +"Oh, lud! the worst of it? Are you mad, girl?" + +"I am not mad now, but I know that I shall be if he remains a +gentleman--if he refrains from telling me that he loves me--or at least +of giving me a chance of telling him that I love him. That would be +better than nothing--'twould be such a relief. I really do not think +that I want anything more than to be able to confess to him that I love +him--that 'tis impossible that I should love another." + +"The sooner you go to the country the better 'twill be for yourself and +all of us--his lordship especially. Good heavens, child, you must be +mad! Do you fancy that his lordship would give his consent to your +marriage with a strolling player, let him be as handsome as Beelzebub?" + +"He is not a strolling player. Mr. O'Brien is in Mr. Garrick's company, +and every one knows that he is of good family. I have been searching it +out for the past week--all about the O'Briens--there were a great many +of them, all of them distinguished. If it had not been that King James +was defeated by William, in Ireland, Mr. O'Brien's grandfather would +have been made a duke. They were all heroes, the O'Briens. And they were +just too sincere in their devotion to the losing side--that was it--the +losing side was always the one they took up. And yet you call him a +strolling player!" + +"I take back the insinuation and offer him my apologies; he is not a +strolling player because he doesn't stroll--would to Heaven he did! Oh, +my poor Sue, take a stroll into the country yourself as soon as possible +and try to forget this dreadfully handsome wretch. You would not, I am +sure, force me to tell his lordship what a goose his daughter is like to +make of herself." + +At this point there was a dramatic scene, one that was far more deeply +charged with comedy of a sort than any to be found in Mr. Whitehead's +play. Lady Susan accused her dear friend of being a spy, of extorting +a confession from her under the guise of friendship, which in other +circumstances--the rack, the wheel, the thumbscrew, in fact the entire +mechanism of persuasion employed by the Spanish Inquisition--would have +been powerless to obtain. Lady Sarah on her side entreated her friend +not to show herself to be even a greater goose than her confession +would make her out to be. For several minutes there was reproach and +counter-reproach, many home truths followed home thrusts; then some +tears, self-accusation, expressions of sympathy and tenderness, followed +by promises of friendship beyond the dreams of Damon and Pythias; +lastly, a promise on the part of Sue that she would take the advice of +her devoted Sarah and fly to the country without delay. + +Strange to say, she fled to the country, and, stranger still, the result +was not to cure her of her infatuation for the handsome actor. For close +upon a year she did not see him, but she was as devoted to him as she +had been at first, and no day passed on which she failed to think of +him, or to spend some hours writing romantic verses, sometimes in the +style of Waller in his lyrics, sometimes in the style (distant) of Mr. +Dryden in his pastorals: she was Lesbia, and Mr. O'Brien was Strephon. + +But in the meantime she had improved so much in her acting that when +Lady Sarah, who had within the year married Sir Thomas Bunbury, ventured +to rally her upon her infatuation of the previous spring, she was +able to disarm her suspicions by a flush and a shrug, and a little +contemptuous exclamation or two. + +"Ah, my dear one, did not I give you good advice?" cried Lady Sarah. "I +was well assured that my beloved Sue would never persevere in a passion +that could only end in unhappiness. But indeed, child, I never had the +heart to blame you greatly, the fellow is handsome as Apollo and as +proud as Apolyon. He has broken many hearts not accounted particularly +fragile, during the year." + +"Is't possible? For example?--I vow that I shall keep their names +secret." + +Lady Sarah shook her head at first, but on being importuned whispered a +name or two of ladies of their acquaintance, all of whom--according to +Lady Sarah--had fallen as deep as was possible in love with O'Brien. Her +ladyship was so intent on her narration of the scandals that she quite +failed to see the strange light that gleamed in her friend's eyes at the +mention of every name--a rather fierce gleam, with a flash of green in +it. She did not notice this phenomenon, nor did she detect the false +note in the tribute of laughter which her friend paid to her powers of +narration. + +But Lady Sue, when the other had left her, rushed to her room and flung +herself on her bed in a paroxysm of jealousy. She beat her innocent +pillow wildly, crying in the whisper that the clenching of her teeth +made imperative--"The hussies! Shameless creatures! Do they hope that he +will be attracted to them? Fools!--they are fools! They do not know him +as I know him. They think that he is nothing but a vain actor--Garrick, +or Barry, or Lewes. Oh, they do not know him!" + +She lay there in her passion for an hour, and if it was her maid who +discovered her at the end of that time, it is safe to assume that +the young woman's flesh was black and blue in places for several +days afterwards. The pinch and the slipper were among the most highly +approved forms of torture inflicted upon their maids at that robust +period of English history. The French Revolution was still some way off. + +A few weeks later Lady Susan was sitting to Sir Joshua Reynolds for a +group, in which he painted her with her friend Lady Sarah Bunbury and +Mr. Henry Fox; and it was the carrying out of this scheme that put quite +another scheme into the quick brain of the first-named lady. Painting +was in the air. She possessed a poor print of Mr. O'Brien, and she had +found an immense consolation in gazing upon it--frequently at midnight, +under the light of her bedroom candle. The sight of the life-like +portraits in Sir Joshua's studio induced her to ask herself if she might +not possess a picture of her lover that would show him as he really was +in life, without demanding so many allowances as were necessary to be +made for the shortcomings of the engraver of a print. Why should she not +get Sir Joshua Reynolds to paint for her the portrait of Mr. O'Brien? + +[Illustration: 0379] + +The thought was a stimulating one, and it took possession of her for a +week. At the end of that time, however, she came to the conclusion that +it would be unwise for her to employ Sir Joshua on a commission that +might possibly excite some comment on the part of her friends should +they come to learn--and the work of this particular painter was rather +inclined to be assertive--that it had been executed to her order. But +she was determined not to live any longer without a portrait of the man; +and, hearing some one mention at Sir Joshua's house the name of Miss +Catherine Read, who was described as an excellent portrait painter, she +made further inquiry, and the result was that she begged her father, +the Earl of Ilchester, who was devoted to her, to allow her to have her +portrait done by Miss Read, to present to Lady Sarah on her birthday. + +Of course Miss Read was delighted to have the patronage of so great +a family--she had not yet done her famous pastel of the Duchess of +Argyll--and Susan, accompanied by her footman, lost no time in beginning +her series of sittings to the artist to whom Horace Walpole referred as +"the painteress." + +She was both patient and discreet, for three whole days elapsed before +she produced a mezzotint of Mr. O'Brien. + +"I wonder if you would condescend to draw a miniature portrait of his +lordship's favourite actor from so poor a copy as this, Miss Read?" she +said. "Have you ever seen this Mr. O'Brien--an Irishman, I believe he +is?" + +Miss Read assured her that Mr. O'Brien was her favourite actor also. The +print produced was indeed a poor one; it quite failed to do justice to +the striking features of the original, she said. + +"I felt certain that it could bear but a meagre resemblance to Mr. +O'Brien if all that I hear of the man be true," said Lady Susan. "His +lordship swears that there has never been so great an actor in England, +and I should like to give him a surprise by presenting to him a +miniature portrait of his favourite, done by the cunning pencil of Miss +Read, on his birthday. I protest that 'tis a vast kindness you are doing +me in undertaking such a thing. But mind, I would urge of you to keep +the affair a profound secret. I wish it as a surprise to my father, and +its effect would be spoilt were it to become known to any of his friends +that I had this intention." + +"Your ladyship may rest assured that no living creature will hear of the +affair through me," said the painteress. "But I heartily wish that your +ladyship could procure for me a better copy than this print from which +to work," she added. + +"I fear that I cannot promise you that; I found two other prints of the +same person, but they are worse even than this," said Lady Susan. "You +must do your best with the material at your disposal." + +"Your ladyship may depend on my doing my best," replied Miss Read. "When +does his lordship's birthday take place?" + +Her ladyship was somewhat taken aback by the sudden question. It took +her some time to recollect that her father's birthday was to be within +a month. She felt that she could not live for longer than another month +without a portrait of the man whom she loved. + +While she was going home in her chair she could not but feel that she +had hitherto been an undutiful daughter, never having taken any interest +in her father's birthday, and being quite unacquainted with its date. +She hoped fervently that Miss Read would not put herself to the trouble +to find out exactly on what day of what month it took place. The result +of such an investigation might be a little awkward. + +It so happened that Miss Read took no trouble in this direction. All her +attention was turned upon the task of making a presentable miniature out +of the indifferent material with which she had been supplied for this +purpose. She began wondering if it might not be possible to get O'Brien +to sit to her half a dozen times in order to give her a chance of doing +credit to herself and to the gentleman's fine features. + +She was still pondering over this question when her attendant entered +with a card, saying that a gentleman had come to wait on her. + +She read the name on the card, and uttered an exclamation of surprise, +for the name was that of the man of whom she was thinking--Mr. O'Brien, +of Drury Lane Theatre. + +She had wholly failed to recover herself before he entered the studio, +and advanced to her, making his most respectful bow. He politely +ignored her flutter-ings--he was used to see her sex overwhelmed when he +appeared. + +"Madam, I beg that you will pardon this intrusion," he said. "I have +taken the liberty of waiting upon you, knowing of your great capacity as +an artist." + +"Oh, sir!" cried the fluttered little lady, making her courtesy. + +"Nay, madam, I have no intention of flattering one to whom compliments +must be as customary as they are well deserved," said the actor. "I come +not to confer a favour, madam, but to entreat one. In short, Miss Read, +I am desirous of presenting a valued friend of mine with the portrait of +a lady for whom he entertains a sincere devotion. For certain reasons, +which I need not specify, the lady cannot sit to you; but I have here +a picture of her poorly done in chalks, from which I hope it may be +in your power to make a good--a good---- Good heavens! what do I +behold?'Tis she--she--Lady Susan herself!" + +He had glanced round the studio in the course of his speech, and his +eyes had alighted upon the newly-begun portrait of Lady Susan. It +represented only a few days' work, but the likeness to the original had +been ably caught, and no one could fail to recognise the features. + +He took a hurried step to the easel, and the air made by his motion +dislodged a print which the artist had laid on the little ledge that +supported the stretcher of the canvas. The print fluttered to the floor; +he picked it up, and gave another exclamation on recognising his own +portrait in the mezzotint. + +Looking from the print to the picture and then at Miss Read, he said in +a low voice, after a pause--"Madam, I am bewildered. Unless you come +to my assistance I protest I shall feel that I am dreaming and asleep. +Pray, madam, enlighten me--for Heaven's sake tell me how this"--he held +up the print--"came into such close juxtaposition with that"--he pointed +to the portrait on the easel. + +"'Tis easily told, sir," said Miss Read, smiling archly. "But I must +leave it to your sense of honour to keep the matter a profound secret." + +"Madam," said Mr. O'Brien with dignity, "Madam, I am an Irishman." + +"That is enough, sir; I know that I can trust you. The truth is, Mr. +O'Brien, that Lady Susan is sitting to me for her portrait--that +portrait. 'Twas marvellous that you should recognise it so soon. I have +not worked at it for many hours." + +"Madam, your art is beyond that of the magician. 'Tis well known that +every form depicted by Miss Read not only breathes but speaks." + +"Oh, sir, I vow that you are a flatterer; still, you did recognise the +portrait--'tis to be presented to Lady Sarah Bunbury." + +"Her ladyship will be the most fortunate of womankind." + +"Which ladyship, sir--Lady Susan or Lady Sarah?" + +"Both, madam." The Irishman was bowing with his hand on his heart. "But +the print--my poor likeness?" + +"That is the secret, sir; but you will not betray it when I tell you +that Lady Susan entrusted that print to me in order that I might make a +copy in miniature for her to present to her father, Lord Ilchester. You +are his favourite actor, Mr. O'Brien, as no doubt you are aware." + +"'Tis the first I heard of it, madam." There was a suggestion of +mortification in the actor's tone. + +"Ah, 'twould be impossible for Mr. O'Brien to keep an account of all his +conquests. But now you can understand how it is that her ladyship wishes +her intention to be kept a secret: she means to add to the acceptability +of her gift by presenting it as a surprise. But her secret is safe in +your keeping, sir?" + +"I swear to it, madam." Mr. O'Brien spoke mechanically. His hand was on +his chin: he was clearly musing upon some question that perplexed him. +He took a turn up and down the studio, and then said: + +"Madam, it has just occurred to me that you, as a great artist----" + +"Nay, sir," interposed the blushing painteress. + +"I will not take back a word, madam," said the actor, holding up one +inexorable hand. "I say that surely so great an artist as you should +disdain to do the work of a mere copyist. Why should not you confer upon +me the honour of sitting to you for the miniature portrait?" + +"Oh, sir, that is the one favour which I meant to ask of you, if my +courage had not failed me." + +"Madam, you will confer immortality upon a simple man through that magic +wand which you wield." He swept his hand with inimitable grace over the +mahl-stick which lay against the easel. "I am all impatient to begin my +sitting, Miss Read. Pray let me come to-morrow." + +"Her ladyship comes to-morrow." + +"I shall precede her ladyship. Name the hour, madam." + +Without the least demur Miss Read named an hour which could enable him +to be far away from the studio before Lady Susan's arrival. + +And yet the next day Lady Susan entered the studio quite half an hour +before Mr. O'Brien had left it. Of course she was surprised. Had not +Miss Read received a letter, making her aware of the fact that she, Lady +Susan, would be forced, owing to circumstances over which she had +no control, to sit for her portrait an hour earlier than that of her +appointment? + +When Miss Read said she had received no such letter, Lady Susan said +some very severe things about her maid. Miss Read was greatly fluttered, +but she explained in as few words as possible how it was that Mr. +O'Brien had come forward in the cause of art, and was sitting for the +miniature. Lady Susan quickly got over her surprise. (Had Miss Read seen +the letter which her ladyship had received the previous evening from +Mr. O'Brien she would not have marvelled as she did at the rapidity +with which her ladyship recovered her self-possession.) Her ladyship +was quite friendly with the actor, and thanked him for his courtesy +in offering to give up so much of his time solely for the sake of +increasing the value of her gift to her father. + +A few minutes later, while they were discussing some point in the design +of the picture, Miss Read was called out of the studio, and in a second +Lady Susan was in his arms. + +"Fate is on our side, darling girl!" he whispered. + +"I could not live without you, my charmer. But I was bold! I took my +fate in both hands when I wrote you that letter." + +"Dear one, 'twas the instinct of true love that made you guess the +truth--that I wanted the portrait because I loved the original. Oh, dear +one, what have I not suffered during the year that has parted us!" said +Lady Susan, with her head upon his shoulder. + +The Irishman found it necessary to fall back upon the seductive tongue +of his country for words of endearment to bestow upon her. He called her +"Sheila," "a cushla machree," "mavourneen," and also "aroon." But when +Miss Read returned to the studio they were still discussing a purely +artistic point in connection with the portrait. + +Of course now that O'Brien knew the secret of the miniature there was no +reason that Miss Read could see why he and Lady Susan should not meet at +her studio. To do her justice, neither could her ladyship perceive why +they should not come together at this place. They came every day, and +every day Lady Susan begged that Miss Read would allow her to rest in +her ante-room after the fatigue of the sitting. She rested in that +room, and in the company of O'Brien, until at last Miss Read became +frightened; and one day told her friend Lord Cathcart something of her +fears. Lord Cathcart, in his turn, told Lord Ilchester. His lordship was +furious, but cautious. + +He wanted evidence of his daughter's infatuation. He got it the next +morning, for he insisted on seeing a letter which arrived for Lady +Susan, addressed in the handwriting of Lady Sarah. This letter turned +out to be from O'Brien, and Susan confessed that her father's surmise +was correct--all the letters which she had recently received in Lady +Sarah's hand had come from O'Brien. + +Her father was foolish enough to grant her permission to say farewell +to her lover, and thus the two were allowed to come together once more. +They had a long talk, in the course of which O'Brien communicated to her +a secret of the theatre, which was that Mr. Garrick and Mr. Colman were +engaged in the construction of a comedy to be called _The Clandestine +Marriage_, and that Mr. Garrick told him that he, O'Brien, was to play +the part of the lover--the gentleman who had married the lady in secret. + +Lady Susan parted from her lover, not in tears, but in laughter. + +The conclusion of the story is told by Horace Walpole, writing to Lord +Hertford. + +"You will have heard of the sad misfortune that has happened to Lord +Ilchester by his daughter's marriage with O'Brien, the actor," wrote +Walpole; and then went on to tell how Lady Susan had made her confession +to her father, vowing to have nothing more to do with her lover if she +were but permitted to bid him good-bye. "You will be amazed," continued +Walpole, "even this was granted. The parting scene happened the +beginning of the week. On Friday she came of age, and on Saturday +morning--instead of being under lock and key in the country--walked +downstairs, took her footman, said she was going to breakfast with +Lady Sarah, but would call at Miss Read's; in the street pretended +to recollect a particular cap in which she was to be drawn, sent the +footman back for it, whipped into a hackney chair, was married at Covent +Garden Church, and set out for Mr. O'Brien's villa at Dunstable." + +Unlike many other alliances of a similar type, this marriage turned out +a happy one. O'Brien was induced to leave the stage and to depart with +his wife for America. He obtained a grant of some forty thousand acres +in the province of New York, and had he retained this property and taken +the right side during the Revolution his descendants would to-day be +the richest people in the world. A few years later he was given a +good appointment in Bermuda; and finally, in 1770, he was made +Receiver-General of the County of Dorset, and became popular as a +country squire. He died in 1815, and Lady Susan survived him by twelve +years. + +It was Lady Sarah who had made the imprudent marriage. She submitted to +the cruelties of her husband for fourteen years, and on her leaving his +roof he obtained a divorce. + +In 1781, nineteen years after her first marriage, she wedded the Hon. +George Napier, and became the mother of three of the greatest Englishmen +of the nineteenth century. She lived until she was eighty. Her friend +Lady Susan followed her to the grave a year later, at the age of +eighty-four. + + +THE END + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Georgian Pageant, by Frank Frankfort Moore + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GEORGIAN PAGEANT *** + +***** This file should be named 51964-8.txt or 51964-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/6/51964/ + +Produced by David Widger from page images generously +provided by the Internet Archive + + +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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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: A Georgian Pageant + +Author: Frank Frankfort Moore + +Illustrator: Various + +Release Date: May 2, 2016 [EBook #51964] +Last Updated: March 13, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GEORGIAN PAGEANT *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger from page images generously +provided by the Internet Archive + + + + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + A GEORGIAN PAGEANT + </h1> + <h2> + By Frank Frankfort Moore + </h2> + <h3> + With Illustrations + </h3> + <h4> + London: Hutchinson & Co. Paternoster Row + </h4> + <h3> + 1908 + </h3> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0001.jpg" alt="0001 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0001.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0008.jpg" alt="0008 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0008.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0009.jpg" alt="0009 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0009.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> THE WRITER'S APOLOGY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> THE MONARCH OF THE PAGEANT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> A COMEDY IN ST. MARTIN'S STREET </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> A TRAGEDY IN THE HAYMARKET </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> THE FATAL GIFT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> THE FÊTE-CHAMPÊTRE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> THE PLOT OF A LADY NOVELIST </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> TRAGEDY WITH A TWINKLE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> THE BEST COMEDY OF THE CENTURY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> THE JESSAMY BRIDE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> THE AMAZING ELOPEMENT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> THE AMAZING DUELS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> A MELODRAMA AT COVENT GARDEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> THE COMEDY AT DOWNING STREET </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE WRITER'S APOLOGY + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE greater number + of the papers in this series, dealing with some well-known persons and + incidents of the latter half of the Eighteenth Century, are the practical + result of a long conversation which the writer had with the late Professor + J. Churton Collins upon a very memorable occasion. The writer ventured to + contend that the existing views respecting the personality of Oliver + Goldsmith, of Henry Thrale, of James Boswell, of Samuel Johnson, and of + some others whom he named, were grossly erroneous; as were also the + prevalent notions respecting such matters as Fanny Burney's attendance + upon the Queen, the “romance” of the Gunnings, and the “elopement” of + Richard Brinsley Sheridan with Elizabeth Linley. If Professor Churton + Collins had not urged upon the writer the possible interest attaching to + the expression of some opinions unbiassed by those conservators of the + conventional who have dealt with the same period, every one of them being + as careful as Indians on the warpath to tread in the footsteps of the man + preceding him, he would not have the courage to set forth his views in the + form they now assume. + </p> + <p> + The non-controversial papers in the series may increase the light and + shade in the sketches of this very humble Georgian Pageant. The romance of + Lady Susan Fox-Strangways naturally took the shape of a “regulation” + story. The details are absolutely correct. + </p> + <p> + On the very day the writer meant to keep the promise he made to Professor + Churton Collins, by sending him the completed proofs of this book, the + melancholy news of his death was published—an irreparable loss to + the Literature of English Criticism. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE MONARCH OF THE PAGEANT + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>n the morning of + February 2nd, 1789, a lady was taking a solitary stroll in Kew Gardens. + She was a small person, of dainty features, with a dimple on each side of + her mouth that suggested a smile, varying, perhaps out of compliment to + the variations of the people with whom she came in contact in her daily + life, and shifting doubtless with the movements of the folk of her fancy + through her quick brain, but remaining a smile all the time. There was + about her a good deal of that doll-like primness which is so pretty an + accompaniment of a person of small stature; but with this particular + person it had—not quite, but almost—the additional charm of + dignity. One could at all times see that she was making a highly + intellectual attempt to be dignified; but that she was not really + dignified at heart. One could see that she had too fine a sense of humour + to be thoroughly dignified; and it may be that some of her closest + observers—her closest observers were her greatest admirers—perceived + now and again that she had a full sense of the humour of her efforts in + the direction of dignity. She had large eyes, but being very + short-sighted, she had a habit of half closing them when looking at + anything or any one further away from her than ten feet. But somehow it + was never suggested that the falling of her lids brought a frown to her + face. + </p> + <p> + She was a quick walker at all times; but on this winter day the slowest + would have had little temptation to dawdle. The usual river mist was + thrusting up a quivering cold hand among the gaunt trees of the water + boundary of the Gardens, and here and there it flitted like a lean spectre + among the clipped evergreens of the shrubberies. There was a maze of yew + hedges, in the intricacies of which one mist-spectre had clearly got lost; + and the lady, who had some imagination, could see, as she hurried past, + the poor thing's wispy head and shoulders flitting about among the + baffling central walks. (A defective eyesight is sometimes a good friend + to the imagination.) And all the while she was hurrying along the broad + track she was looking with some measure of uneasiness through her + half-closed eyes down every tributary walk that ran into the main one, and + peering uneasily down every long artificial vista that Sir Thomas + Chambers, the Swedish knight and landscape gardener, had planned, through + the well-regulated boskage, with an imitation Greek temple or Roman villa + at the end. Approaching the widening entrance to each of these, she went + cautiously for a few moments until she had assured herself on some point. + Once she started and took a step backward, but raising the lorgnette which + she carried, and satisfying herself that the group of men a hundred yards + down one of the vistas was composed wholly of gardeners, she resumed her + stroll. + </p> + <p> + Whatever slight apprehension may have been on her mind had vanished by the + time she had half completed the circuit made by the main walk. She had + reached one of the mounds which at that time were covered with + rhododendrons, and paused for a moment to see if there was sign of a bud. + A blackbird flew out from among the dense leafage, and she followed it + with her eyes as well as she could while she walked on, crossing the + narrow path that led to the seats on the mound. But at the moment of + crossing she was startled out of her senses by the sound of a shout from + some distance down this path—a loud shout followed by several others + rather less imperative. She gave a little exclamation of terror, raising + her muff to her face. Glancing in the direction whence the commotion was + coming, she gave another cry, seeing a tall man rush toward her with + outstretched arms—waving arms, frantically beckoning to her while he + shouted: + </p> + <p> + “Miss Burney! Miss Burney!” + </p> + <p> + She waited no longer. She turned and fled along the broad walk, making for + one of the many labyrinths not so very far away, and after her ran the + man, still shouting and gesticulating. She could hear the sound of his + feet and his voice behind her, as well as the cries of the other men who + were endeavouring to keep pace with him. On they came, and there flashed + through her active brain, in spite of the horrible apprehension which + thrilled through every nerve in her body, as she doubled back upon the + path which she had just traversed, the lines written by Dr. Goldsmith and + often quoted by her friend Dr. Johnson: + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="indent20"> + A hare whom hounds and horns pursue, + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + Pants to the place from whence at first he flew. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + She realised, all too painfully, the feelings of the poor hare at that + moment. She longed for a friendly earth to open up before her. They were + behind her—those wild huntsmen, one hoarsely yelling to her she knew + not what, the others, more shrill, shouting to her to stop. + </p> + <p> + She was too frightened to think of obeying any of them. On she ran, and it + seemed that she was increasing the distance between her and her panting + pursuers, until one of them, having better wind, managed to shoot ahead of + the others, and to get close enough to say in a voice that was not all + gasps: + </p> + <p> + “Madam, madam, the doctor begs you to stop!” She glanced over her + shoulder, still flying. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, I cannot—I dare not!” she gasped. + </p> + <p> + “Madam, you must—you must: it hurts the King to run!” cried the man. + </p> + <p> + Then she stopped. The man, an ordinary attendant, stood in front of her. + He was more breathless than Miss Burney. + </p> + <p> + “The doctor, madam,” he faltered, “'twas the doctor—he thought at + first that His Majesty was—was—but that was at first—now + he says you must please not lead His Majesty on—'tis all too much + for him. Save us! How you did go, madam! Who would ha' thought it?” + </p> + <p> + She was paying no attention to him. Her eyes were fixed upon the group of + men who were recovering their breath while they walked slowly toward her. + The King was between his two physicians—not Physicians in Ordinary; + just the contrary—the two physicians who had been summoned from + Lincolnshire by some person in authority who possessed intelligence—it + should surely be easy to identify such a man at the Court of George III—when, + some months earlier, His Majesty gave signs of losing his mental balance. + They were the Willises, father and son, the former a clergyman, who was + therefore all the more fully qualified to deal with a mind diseased—such + a case as was defined as needing more the divine than the physician. The + King was between the father and his son, but neither of them was + exercising any ostentatious or officious restraint upon him. One of them + was smiling while he said some reassuring words to the Royal patient; the + other was endeavouring to reassure little Miss Burney from a distance. + </p> + <p> + And it seemed that the intentions of both were realised, for His Majesty + was smiling as benignly as was ever his wont, and little Miss Burney took + her courage in both hands and boldly advanced to meet her Sovereign. (She + had been for three years the Queen's “Dresser.”) But when they met, after + the King had cried, “Why did you run away from me, Miss Burney?” it + appeared that the process of reassuring the King had been but too + effectually accomplished, for before the lady could frame a diplomatic + reply to his inquiry, he had enwound her in his paternal arms and kissed + her heartily on the cheek, greatly to her confusion and (she pretends) to + her horror. The two doctors stood placidly by. They, poor things, being + quite unaccustomed to the ways of the immediate entourage of the Court of + George III—though they had doubtless heard something of the + practices that prevailed at the Courts of His Majesty's lamented + grandfather and great-grandfather—seemed under the impression that + there was nothing unusual in this form of salutation. For all they knew it + might be regarded as <i>de rigueur</i> between a monarch and the ladies of + his consort's retinue. Even Dr. Willis, the divine, took a tolerant view + of the transaction. He, as Miss Burney afterwards recorded, actually + looked pleased! + </p> + <p> + But, of course, the prim little lady herself was overwhelmed—yes, at + first; but soon her good sense came to her rescue. She seems to have come + with extraordinary rapidity to the conclusion that the King was not so mad + as she had believed him to be. Her train of reasoning was instinctive, and + therefore correct: the King had put his arms about her and kissed her when + he had the chance, therefore he could not be so mad after all. + </p> + <p> + In truth, however, Fanny Burney took the view of her treatment that any + sensible modest young woman would take of it. She knew that the King, who + had been separated for several months from the people whom he had been + daily in the habit of meeting, had shown in the most natural way possible + his delight at coming once more in contact with one of them. + </p> + <p> + And undoubtedly the homely old gentleman was delighted beyond measure to + meet with some one belonging to his happy years—a pleasanter face + than that of Mrs. Schwellenberg, the dreadful creature who had made Fanny + Burney's life miserable. It is not conceivable that the King would have + kissed Mrs. Schwellenberg if he had come upon her suddenly as he had upon + Miss Burney. People prefer silver rather than iron links with a happy + past. He was so overjoyed, that the divine and the physician in attendance + soon became anxious. They could not know much of all that he talked about + to Miss Burney. They were in the position of strangers suddenly introduced + to a family circle, and understanding nothing of the little homely secrets—homely + topics upon which all the members of the circle have laughed together for + years. + </p> + <p> + They possibly could not see much sense in his long and rambling chat—it + must have been largely in monologue—but they must have observed the + face of the lady who was listening to him, and known from the expression + which it wore that their patient was making himself intelligible. Only now + and again they thought it prudent to check his exuberance. They must have + been the most intelligent of men; and their names deserve to stand high in + the annals of their country. At a time when the scientific treatment of + the insane had not even begun to be formulated—when to be mentally + afflicted meant to be on a level with felons and to be subjected to such + repressive treatment as was afforded by the iron of the fetters and the + hiss of the whipcord—at a time when a lust for office could make a + statesman like Burke (a statesman who caused multitudes to weep in + sympathy with his harangue on the sufferings of Marie Antoinette) refer to + the King as having been “hurled by the Almighty from his throne” (in order + to give the Opposition a chance of jumping into place and power over his + prostrate body)—at such a time as this Dr. Willis and his two sons + undertook the treatment of the King, and in the face of much opposition + from the place-hunters in the Prince of Wales's pack, succeeded in + restoring their patient to the palace which his happy nature had + transformed into a home for every one dwelling under its roof. + </p> + <p> + They stood by for some time after the King had greeted Miss Burney; and + when he began to speak to her of topics that had a purely domestic ring + they showed their good taste, as well as their knowledge of the + peculiarities of their “case,” by moving away to a little distance, + signalling to their attendants to do the same. Their discrimination must + have been highly appreciated by the King. The poor restless mind had long + wanted such a good long talk with a sympathetic listener, who, he knew, + could understand every allusion that he might make to the past. He yearned + to talk and to hear of such things as some one living in a distant land + looks forward to finding in a letter from home. The <i>res angusta domi</i>—that + was what he was hungering for—the trivial things in which he + delighted—the confidences on simple matters—the sly everyday + jests, never acutely pointed even to the family circle, but absolutely + pointless to every one outside, yet sounding so delightfully witty when + repeated as a sign of a happy intimacy of the past! + </p> + <p> + Little Miss Burney had never imagined a scene like that in which she + played an insignificant part at the moment, but one of enormous importance + for posterity. She had, a few years before, been placed upon the porphyry + pedestal which is reserved in England for the greatest woman writer of the + generation. Seated there quite complacently, without reflecting upon the + possibility of her pedestal becoming a trifle rickety, she had clasped her + novel <i>Evelina</i> to her bosom, and received, without her head being in + the least turned, the adulation—respectful in some cases, almost + passionate in others—of the most notable men and women in the most + intellectual and artistic society in England. Dr. Samuel Johnson, who was + not disposed to overrate the merits of any writer whom the world had + praised, was kissing her hands, and Richard Brinsley Sheridan was kissing + her feet; Sir Joshua Reynolds was kissing the hem of her garments; while + Edmund Burke was weaving a tinsel crown of rhetoric for her shapely head; + but there were others equally great at that time who seemed to think that + only a nimbus could give the appropriate finish to the little personage on + the pedestal. The marvellous story of her success has been often told. It + is more easily told than understood in the present day, the fact being + that fashion in fiction is the most ephemeral of all human caprices, and + Fanny Burney was essentially a fashion. She followed up the marvellous + success of <i>Evelina</i>, after an interval of four years, with the + natural success of <i>Cecilia</i>, and, after another four years, she + retired from the brilliant world into the obscurity of the palace—the + palace wardrobe. She had visited Mrs. Delany, and had been introduced (not + presented) to the King and Queen, and the office of Queen's Dresser—Keeper + of the Robes was the stately designation of a very humble service—becoming + vacant, it was offered to Fanny Burney and accepted by her, acting on the + advice of her father, who most certainly hoped that his own interests as a + musician, fully qualified to become leader of the Royal Band, would be + materially advanced when his daughter should become one of the Household. + </p> + <p> + Reams of indignation have been published from time to time in respect of + Dr. Burney's conduct in urging on his one brilliant daughter—the + others were not brilliant, only mothers—to accept a post the duties + of which could be discharged by any lady's maid with far more advantage to + the Royal Consort than could possibly result from the ministrations of + Fanny Burney. The world has been called on to bemoan the prudent + indiscretion of the father, who did not hesitate to fling his gifted + daughter's pen out of the window, so to speak, and thereby deprive the + waiting world of some such masterpiece as <i>Camilla</i>—the novel + which she published five years after her release from the burden of the + Robes. There can be no doubt that the feeling which prevailed among the + circle of the elect—the Reynoldses, the Burkes, and even the frigid + Walpole—when it became known that Miss Burney's health was breaking + down under the strain of her duties at the Court—she had about two + hours' daily attendance of the most ordinary nature upon the Queen—was + on the border of indignation. Every one affirmed that it was a disgrace + for so lively a genius to be kept at the duties of a lady's maid. It was + like turning the winner of the Oaks out to the plough. Edmund Burke, + recalling his early approbation of the intentions of Dr. Burney in regard + to his daughter, declared that he had never made so great a mistake in all + his life; and we know that he made a few. These excellent people had no + reason to speak otherwise than they did on this matter. All they knew was + that the pen of the novelist who had given them so much pleasure had been + (as they believed) idle for nearly nine years, five of which had been + passed at the Court. That reflection was quite enough to rouse their + indignation. But what can one say of the indignation on this point of a + writer who actually made the fact of his being engaged on a review of the + Diary of Fanny Burney—the incomparable Diary which she kept during + her five years at Court—an excuse for turning the vials of his wrath + upon her father, whose obstinacy gave her a chance of writing the most + interesting chapter—the most accurate chapter—of History that + was ever penned by man or woman? + </p> + <p> + Macaulay wrote in all the fullness of his knowledge of what Fanny Burney + had written. He knew that for four years after she had published <i>Cecilia</i> + her pen had been idle so far as fiction was concerned. He knew that for + five years after her release from the thraldom of the Queen's closet she + had published nothing; he himself felt it to be his duty to point out the + comparative worthlessness of <i>Camilla</i>, the novel which she then gave + to the world, not because she felt upon her the impulse of a woman of + genius, but simply because she found herself in great need of some ready + money. Macaulay does not disdain to go into the money question, showing + (he fancies) how Dr. Burney had by his obstinacy deprived his gifted + daughter of earning the large sum which she would assuredly have obtained + by the writing of a novel in the time that she was compelled to devote to + the Queen's <i>toilette</i>. He found it convenient to ignore the fact + that of the fourteen years that elapsed between the publication of <i>Cecilia</i> + and that of <i>Camilla</i> only five were spent at Court. Surely any born + novelist could, without running a chance of imperilling a well-earned + reputation by undue haste in the dialogue or by scamping the descriptive + passages, contrive by dint of hard, but not over-hard, work to produce + more than one complete romance within a space of nine years. Many ladies + who are not born novelists have succeeded in surpassing this task without + physical suffering. + </p> + <p> + But even assuming that the author of <i>Evelina, Cecilia, and Camilla</i> + lost not only time but money while she was at Court, how much money did + she lose? She received at least the equivalent of £2000 for her five + years' service, and she was granted a pension of £100 a year, which she + drew for forty-nine years; so that for her enforced seclusion she was + remunerated to the extent of close upon £7000! This sum represents more + than all Fanny Burney's literary works yielded to her from the joyous + youthful days of <i>Evelina</i> down to the somewhat sordid middle age of + <i>Camilla</i>. + </p> + <p> + But what has the world gained by the lamentable short-sightedness + attributed to Dr. Burney? How is one to estimate the value of that + incomparable Diary so admirably “written up” during her tedious five years + at Court? How many <i>Cecilias</i>, how many <i>Camillas</i> would one not + give in exchange for a single year of that part of the Diary which deals + with the approach of the King's malady? In no work of fiction that ever + came from her pen did she ever show such power of observation, not only of + incident, but of character as well; nor is there apparent on any page + produced by her imagination such perfect artistic effects as appeal to a + reader on every page of this Diary of a disease. + </p> + <p> + At the outset of her account of these dreadful days we are conscious of + the vague approach of a shadow—we feel as if we were led into the + darkened chamber of a haunted house. Our attendant pauses by our side, + listening for strange noises; she lays a hand upon our arm, as it were, + and speaks to us in a whisper. We feel that the dread Thing is coming. The + King is indisposed—he has not been quite in his usual health for + some time past; but of course nothing very alarming has been announced by + Sir George Barker, the Physician in Ordinary, although there is an + uncertainty as to His Majesty's complaint. But Miss Burney has seen the + faces of the people about her who have come more closely in contact with + the Sovereign; she has doubtless noticed the solemnity of some—the + airs of mystery, the head-shakings, and she is capable of drawing her own + conclusions. “Heaven preserve him!” she whispers in her Diary for October + 19th, 1788. She is very much with the Queen, and she perceives that Her + Majesty is extremely uneasy, though saying nothing. There is great alarm + during the night. Possibly some one has heard the delirious voice of the + King coming from his apartments in that tumbledown palace of his at Kew. + The fright is general, and every one is wondering what the morning will + bring forth. Hope comes with the light. The bulletin is that the King was + ill, but is now so very much better that his physician believes the move + to Windsor, to which the Court was looking forward, may be taken. The move + is made on the 25th, and then Miss Burney has a chance meeting with the + King that causes her to suspect the truth. He talks to her with unnatural + vehemence—unnatural volubility—and without cessation for a + long time; all is exaggerated, and his graciousness most of all. She has + never met with anything like this before, but having heard of the delirium + accompanying a high fever, she believes that His Majesty is in the throes + of a fever. + </p> + <p> + The next day is Sunday, and she meets him again in one of the passages, + and she finds him rather more coherent in his talk, but still it is the + talk of a man in the delirium of a fever. It is all about himself—his + health—his dreadful sleeplessness. He keeps at it for half an hour + without making the slightest pause; and yet he manages to convey to her an + impression of his benevolence—his consideration for the people + around him—his hopes that he may not cause them any uneasiness. When + he leaves her she doubtless tells of the meeting to some of her friends in + the apartments where the equerries are accustomed to meet, and doubtless + there are more head-shakings and airs of mystery; but she records: “Nobody + speaks of his illness, nor what they think of it.” + </p> + <p> + Apparently, too, no one felt it to be necessary to subject His Majesty to + any course of treatment, although, a few days later, he became so weak + that he, who at the beginning of the year thought nothing of walking + twelve miles at a stretch—more than his sons could do—hobbled + along like a gouty man. Gradually, very gradually, the horror approaches; + and nothing that has ever been done in fiction equals in effect the simple + record of all that Fanny Burney noticed from day to day. Most touching of + all her entries are those relating to the Queen. “The Queen,” she writes, + “is almost overpowered with some secret terror. I am affected beyond all + expression in her presence to see what struggles she makes to support her + serenity. To-day she gave up the conflict when I was alone with her; and + burst into a violent fit of tears. It was very, very terrible to see!... + something horrible seemed impending... I was still wholly unsuspicious of + the greatness of the cause she had for dread. Illness, a breaking up of + the constitution, the payment of sudden infirmity and premature old age + for the waste of unguarded health and strength—these seemed to me + the threats awaiting her; and great and grievous enough, yet how short of + the fact!”... + </p> + <p> + At last the terrible truth was revealed. Miss Burney was dining with one + of the Queen's ladies; but there was little conversation between them. It + was clear that both had their suspicions of the nature of the dread shadow + that was hovering over the castle. They remained together, waiting for the + worst. “A stillness the most uncommon reigned over the whole house. Nobody + stirred; not a voice was heard; not a motion. I could do nothing but + watch, without knowing for what; there seemed a strangeness in the house + most extraordinary.” + </p> + <p> + To talk of such passages as these as examples of literary art would be + ridiculous. They are transcripts from life itself made by some one with a + genius for observation, not merely for recording. Boswell had a genius for + recording; but his powers of observation were on a level with those of a + sheep. We know perfectly well what his treatment of the scenes leading up + to the tragedy of the King would have been. But Fanny Burney had the + artist's instinct for collecting only such incidents as heighten the + effect. + </p> + <p> + When she is still sitting in the dim silence of that November evening with + her friend some one enters to whisper that there was to be no playing of + the after-dinner music in which the King usually took so much pleasure. + Later on the equerries come slowly into the room. There is more whispering—more + head-shaking. What was it all about? Had anything happened? What had + happened? No one wishes to be the first to speak. But the suspense! The + strain upon the nerves of the two ladies! At last it can be borne no + longer. The dreadful revelation is made. The King is a madman! + </p> + <p> + At dinner, the Prince of Wales being present, His Majesty had “broken + forth into positive delirium, which long had been menacing all who saw him + most closely; and the Queen was so overpowered as to fall into violent + hysterics. All the princesses were in misery, and the Prince of Wales had + burst into tears. No one knew what was to follow—no one could + conjecture the event.” Nothing could be more pathetic than the concern of + the King for his wife. His delusion is that she is the sufferer. When + Fanny Burney went to her room, where she was accustomed to await her + nightly summons to attend Her Majesty, she remained there alone for two + hours. At midnight she can stand the suspense no longer. She opens the + door and listens in the passage. Not a sound is to be heard. Not even a + servant crossed the stairs on the corridor off which her apartment opened. + After another hour's suspense a page knocks at her door with the message + that she is to go at once to her Royal mistress. + </p> + <p> + “My poor Royal Mistress!” she writes. “Never can I forget her countenance—pale, + ghastly pale she looked... her whole frame was disordered, yet she was + still and quiet. And the poor King is dreadfully uneasy about her. Nothing + was the matter with himself, he affirmed, except nervousness on her + account. He insisted on having a bed made up for himself in her + dressing-room in order that he might be at hand should she become worse + through the night. He had given orders that Miss Goldsworthy was to remain + with her; but it seemed that he had no great confidence in the vigilance + of any one but himself, for some hours after the Queen had retired he + appeared before the eyes of the horrified lady-in-waiting, at the door, + bearing a lighted candle. He opened the bed curtains and satisfied himself + that his dread of her being carried out of the palace was unfounded; but + he did not leave the room for another half-hour, and the terror of the + scene completely overwhelmed the unhappy lady.” + </p> + <p> + Truly when this terror was walking by night Fanny Burney's stipend was + well earned. But worse was in store for her when it was decided that the + King should be removed to Kew Palace, which he detested and which was + certainly the most miserable of all the miserable dwelling-places of the + Royal Family. It seemed to be nobody's business to make any preparation + for the reception of the Queen and her entourage. The rooms were dirty and + unwarmed, and the corridors were freezing. And to the horrors of this + damp, unsavoury barrack was added Mrs. Schwellenberg, the German + she-dragon who had done her best to make Fanny Burney's life unendurable + during the previous three years. Formerly Fanny had dwelt upon the + ill-treatment she had received at the hands of this old harridan; but now + she only refers to her as an additional element of casual discomfort. The + odious creature is “so oppressed between her spasms and the house's + horrors, that the oppression she inflicted ought perhaps to be pardoned. + It was, however, difficult enough to bear,” she adds. “Harshness, tyranny, + dissension, and even insult seemed personified. I cut short details upon + this subject—they would but make you sick.” + </p> + <p> + Truly little Miss Burney earned her wages at this time. The dilapidated + palace was only rendered habitable by the importation of a cartload of + sandbags, which were as strategically distributed for the exclusion of the + draughts as if they were the usual defensive supply of a siege. But even + this ingenious device failed to neutralise the Arctic rigours of the + place. The providing of carpets for some of the bare floors of the + bedrooms and passages was a startling innovation; but eventually it was + carried out. An occasional set of curtains also was smuggled into this + frozen fairy palace, and a sofa came now and again. + </p> + <p> + But in spite of all these auxiliaries to luxury—in spite, too, of + Mrs. Schwellenberg's having locked herself into her room, forbidding any + one to disturb her—the dreariness and desolation of the December at + Kew must have caused Miss Burney to think with longing of the comforts of + her father's home in St. Martin's Street and of the congenial atmosphere + which she breathed during her numerous visits to the Thrales' solid + mansion at Streatham. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0035.jpg" alt="0035 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0035.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + The condition of the King was becoming worse, and early whispers of the + necessity for a Regency grew louder. It was understood that Mrs. + Fitzherbert would be made a duchess! Everybody outside the palace sought + to stand well in the estimation of the Prince of Wales, and Pitt was + pointed out as a traitor to his country because he did his best to + postpone the Comus orgy which every one knew would follow the establishing + of a Regency. The appointment of the Doctors Willis was actually referred + to as a shocking impiety, suggesting as it did a wicked rebellion against + the decree of the Almighty, Who, according to Burke, had hurled the + monarch from his throne. There were, however, some who did not regard Mr. + Burke as an infallible judge on such a point, and no one was more + indignant at the mouthings of the rhetorician than Miss Burney. But it + seemed as if the approach of the Regency could no longer be retarded. The + Willises were unable to certify to any improvement in the condition of the + King during the month of January, 1789. It was really not until he had + that chase after Fanny Burney in Kew Gardens that a change for the better + came about. + </p> + <p> + Though she was greatly terrified by his affectionate salutation, she could + not but have been surprised at the sanity displayed in the monologue that + followed; for one of the first of his innumerable questions revealed to + her the fact that he was perfectly well aware of what a trial to her + patience was the odious Mrs. Schwellenberg. He asked how she was getting + on with Mrs. Schwellenberg, and he did so with a laugh that showed her how + well he appreciated her difficulties in this direction in the past. Before + she could say a word he was making light of the Schwellenberg—adopting + exactly the strain that he knew would be most effective with Miss Burney. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind her—never mind her! Don't be oppressed! I am your + friend! Don't let her cast you down—I know that you have a hard time + of it—but don't mind her!” + </p> + <p> + The advice and the tone in which it was given—with a pleasant laugh—did + not seem very consistent with what she expected from a madman. Fanny + Burney appears up to that moment to have been under the impression that + the King and Queen had known nothing of the tyranny and the insults to + which she had been subjected by Mrs. Schwellenberg. But now it was made + plain to her that the eyes of the Royal couple had been open all the time. + If Macaulay had noticed the passage touching upon this point he would have + had still stronger grounds for his attack upon their Majesties for their + want of consideration for the tire-woman who was supposed never to be + tired. + </p> + <p> + But how much more surprised must Fanny Burney have been when the King went + on to talk to her in the most cordially confidential way about her father! + It must have been another revelation to her when he showed how fully he + realised the ambitions of Dr. Burney. He asked her regarding the progress + of the <i>History of Music</i>, at which Dr. Burney had been engaged for + several years, and this gave him a chance of getting upon his favourite + topic, the music of Handel. But when he began to illustrate some of his + impressions on this fruitful theme by singing over the choruses of an + oratorio or two—perhaps such trifles as “All we like Sheep,” or + “Lift up your Heads,” or the “Hallelujah”—he must have gone far + toward neutralising the good opinion she had formed as to his sanity. + Fortunately the attendant doctors interposed at this point; but the fact + that the distinguished amateur suffered their adverse criticism proves to + posterity that the King was even more good-natured than he had been + painted by Miss Burney. + </p> + <p> + On then he went to talk of the subject which must never have been far from + Dr. Burney's heart—the Mastership of the King's Band: “Your father + ought to have had the post, and not that little poor musician Parsons, who + was not fit for it,” he cried. “But Lord Salisbury used your father very + ill in that business, and so he did me! However, I have dashed out his + name, and I shall put your father's in—as soon as I get loose again. + What has your father got at last? Nothing but that poor thing at Chelsea! + Oh, fie! fie! But never mind! I will take care of him—I will do it + myself!” + </p> + <p> + Could he have given the devoted daughter of Dr. Burney a more emphatic + proof of his complete recovery to sanity than this? Why, it would have + convinced Dr. Burney himself! + </p> + <p> + Alas! although the King may have been very resolute at the moment—he + had just been making out a list of new officers of State, and was ready to + show her that the name of her father's enemy, Lord Salisbury, was not to + be found in it, and he assured her that in future he would rule with a rod + of iron—yet before he returned to his ordinary way of life he must + have mislaid his list, for poor Dr. Burney remained at his post of + organist of Chelsea Hospital. He never attained to the place which he + coveted and for which his daughter was sent to five years' Royal + servitude, and (incidentally) to achieve for herself that immortality as a + chronicler which would certainly never have been won by her as a novelist. + </p> + <p> + But the King did not confine his conversation to the one topic which he + knew was of greatest interest to her. He spoke of Mrs. Delany, who had + been the means of introducing Fanny to the Royal circle; and he referred + to the ill-treatment which he had received at the hands of one of his + pages; but this was the only passage that savoured of unkindness, and the + chronicler is unable to do more than hope that the conduct of the pages + was one of His Majesty's delusions. Then, with what seems to us to be + consummate adroitness, he put some questions to her which she could not + but answer. “They referred to information given to him in his illness from + various motives, but which he suspected to be false, and which I knew he + had reason to suspect,” Miss Burney writes. “Yet was it most dangerous to + set anything right, as I was not aware what might be the views of their + having been stated wrong. I was as discreet as I knew how to be, and I + hope I did no mischief: but this was the worst part of the dialogue.” + </p> + <p> + We can quite believe that it was, and considering that it was the part of + the dialogue which was most interesting to the King, we think that Miss + Burney was to be congratulated upon the tact she displayed in her answers. + She did not cause the King to be more perturbed than he was when waxing + indignant over the conduct of his pages; and there was no need for Dr. + Willis to interfere at this point, though he did a little later on. Then + submitting with the utmost docility to the control of his excellent + attendant, and with another exhortation not to pay any attention to the + whims of the Schwellenberg, the gracious gentleman kissed her once more on + the cheek and allowed her to take her departure. + </p> + <p> + So ended this remarkable adventure in Kew Gardens. One can picture Fanny + Burney flying to tell the Queen all that had occurred—to repeat + everything that her discretion permitted her of the conversation; and one + has no difficulty in imagining the effect upon Queen Charlotte of all that + she narrated; but it seems rather hard that from Mrs. Schwellenberg should + have been withheld the excellent advice given by the King to Miss Burney + respecting the German virago. + </p> + <p> + It would have been impossible either for Fanny Burney or the Queen to come + to any conclusion from all that happened except one that was entirely + satisfactory to both. King George III was undoubtedly on the high road to + recovery, and subsequent events confirmed this opinion. It really seemed + that the interview with the author of <i>Evelina</i> marked the + turning-point in his malady at this time. Every day brought its record of + improvement, and within a fortnight the dreaded Regency Bill, which had + been sent up to the Lords, was abandoned. On March 1st there were public + thanksgivings in all the churches, followed by such an illumination of + London as had not been seen since the great fire. The scene at Kew is + admirably described by Miss Burney, who had written some congratulatory + lines to be offered by the Princess Amelia to the King. A great + “transparency” had been painted by the Queen's order, representing the + King, Providence, Health, and Britannia—a truly British tableau—and + when this was hung out and illuminated the little Princess “went to lead + her papa to the front window.” Then she dropped on her knees and gave him + the “copy of verses,” with the postscript: + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="indent20"> + The little bearer begs a kiss + </p> + <p class="indent20"> + From dear papa for bringing this. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + The “dear papa” took his dear child in his arms, and held her close to him + for some time. Nothing could have been more charmingly natural and + affecting. For such a picture of Royalty at home we are indebted to Fanny + Burney, and, face to face with it, we are selfish enough to feel grateful + to Dr. Burney for having given his daughter for five years to discharge a + humble duty to her Sovereign and an immortal one to her fellow-countrymen, + who have read her Diary and placed it on a shelf between Pepys and de + Gramont. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A COMEDY IN ST. MARTIN'S STREET + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>R BURNEY was + giving a “command” party at his house in St. Martin's Street, Leicester + Fields—the house which Sir Isaac Newton did once inhabit, and which + was still crowned with the most celebrated observatory in Europe. In the + early years of his musical career he had had a patron, Mr. Fulk Greville, + who had done a great deal for him, and in later days he had never quite + forgotten this fact, although Dr. Burney had climbed high on the + professional as well as the social ladder, and was better known in the + world than Mr. Greville himself. He had become quite intimate with many + great persons and several curious ones. It is uncertain whether Mr. + Greville regarded Dr. Johnson as belonging to the former or the latter + class, but at any rate he had heard a great deal about Dr. Johnson, and + did not think that, provided he took every reasonable precaution, any harm + could come to himself from meeting such a notability. He accordingly + instructed Dr. Burney to bring him and Johnson together, and Burney + promised to do so. Before the day for this meeting was fixed Mrs. Greville—who, + by the way, was Fanny Burney's godmother—had signified her intention + of viewing the huge person also, and of bringing her daughter, the + exquisite Mrs. Crewe, to attend the promised exhibition of genius in bulk. + </p> + <p> + Of course Dr. Johnson was ready to lend himself to any plan that might be + devised to increase the circumference of his circle of admirers, and + besides, this Mr. Fulk Greville was a descendant of the friend of Sir + Philip Sidney, and had large possessions, as well as a magnificent country + seat, and altogether he would make a most desirable listener; so he agreed + to come to the party to be inspected by the Greville family. Burney, + however, wishing, as every responsible proprietor of a menagerie should + wish, to be on the safe side and exhibit his bear under the eye and the + controlling influence of his favourite keeper, invited Mr. and Mrs. Thrale + to the party. + </p> + <p> + These were to be the “principals” in the comedy of this entertainment; and + for the subordinates he selected his married daughter and her husband—both + admirable musicians—Mr. Davenant, Mr. Seward, and a certain Italian + musician, a vocalist as well as a performer on the violin and that new + instrument which was at first called the fortepiano, then the pianoforte, + and later on simply the piano. This person's name was Gabrielli Piozzi. + </p> + <p> + Such were the harmonious elements which Dr. Burney proposed to bring + together for the gratification of Mr. Fulk Greville and his wife. Mr. + Greville was an amateur of some little capacity, and he had certainly at + one time been greatly interested in music. He had paid £300 to Burney's + master, the celebrated Dr. Arne, who composed in the masque of “Alfred” + the rousing anthem known as “Rule Britannia,” for the cancelling of + Burney's indentures as an apprentice to the “art of musick,” and had taken + the young man into his own house in a capacity which may best be described + as that of entertaining secretary. Dr. Burney may therefore have thought + in his wisdom that, should Johnson be in one of his bearish moods and feel + disinclined to exhibit his parts of speech to Mr. Greville, the latter + would be certain of entertainment from the musicians. This showed + forethought and a good working knowledge of Dr. Johnson. But in spite of + the second string to the musician's bow the party was a fiasco—that + is, from the standpoint of a social entertainment; it included one + incident, however, which made it the most notable of the many of the + Burney parties of which a record remains. + </p> + <p> + And what records there are available to any one interested in the + entertainments given by Dr. Burney and his charming family at that modest + house of theirs, just round the corner from Sir Joshua Reynolds' larger + establishment in Leicester Fields! Hundreds of people who contributed to + make the second half of the eighteenth century the most notable of any + period so far as literature and the arts were concerned, since the + spacious days of Elizabeth, were accustomed to meet together informally at + this house, and to have their visits recorded for all ages to muse upon. + To that house came Garrick, not to exhibit his brilliance as a talker + before a crowd of admirers, but to entertain the children of the household + with the buffooning that never flagged, and that never fell short of + genius in any exhibition. He was the delight of the schoolroom. Edmund + Burke and his brother, both fond of conversation when oratory was not + available, were frequently here; Reynolds came with many of his sitters, + and found fresh faces for his canvas among his fellow-guests; and with him + came his maiden sister, feeling herself more at home with the simple + Burney circle than she ever did with the company who assembled almost + daily under her brother's roof. Nollekens, the sculptor; Colman, the + dramatist and theatre manager, who was obliged to run away from London to + escape the gibes which were flung at him from every quarter when + Goldsmith's <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i>, which he had done his best to + make a failure, became the greatest success of the year; Cumberland, the + embittered rival of Goldsmith, who was the person who gave the solitary + hiss during the first performance of the same play, causing the timid + author to say to the manager on entering the playhouse, “What is that, sir—pray, + what is that? Is it a hiss?” To which Colman replied, “Psha! sir, what + signifies a squib when we have been sitting on a barrel of gunpowder all + night?” + </p> + <p> + These were among the notabilities; and the “curiosities” were quite as + numerous. The earliest of Arctic voyagers, Sir Constantine Phipps, who + later became Lord Mulgrave, put in an appearance at more than one of the + parties; and so did Omai, the “gentle savage” of the poet Cowper, who was + brought by Captain Cook from the South Seas in the ship on which young + Burney was an officer. The sisters, who, of course, idolised the sailor, + sat open-mouthed with wonder to hear their brother chatting away to Omai + in his native language. Upon another occasion came Bruce, the Abyssinian + traveller, who told the story of how steaks were cut from the live ox when + needed by the inhabitants of one region. He was immensely tall, as were + some of his stories; but though extremely dignified, he did not object to + a practical joke. Another person of great stature who visited the Burneys + was the notorious Count Orloff, the favourite of the Empress Catherine of + Russia; and from the letters of one of the young people of the household + one has no difficulty in perceiving with what interest he was regarded by + the girls, especially since the report reached them that he had personally + strangled his imperial master at the instigation of his imperial mistress. + </p> + <p> + These are but, a few names out of the many on the Burneys' visiting list. + Of course, as regards musical artists, the house was the rendezvous of the + greatest in London. While the opera-house in the Haymarket was open there + was a constant flow of brilliant vocalists to these shores, and the young + people had many opportunities of becoming acquainted with the ignorance, + the capriciousness, the affectations, and the abilities which were to be + found associated with the lyric stage in the eighteenth century, as they + are in the twentieth. Among the prime donne who sang for the Burneys were + the Agujari—a marvellous performer, who got fifty pounds for every + song she sang at the Pantheon—and her great but uncertain rival, + Gabrielli. The former, according to Mozart, who may possibly be allowed to + be something of a judge, had a vocal range which was certainly never + equalled by any singer before or after his time. She won all hearts and a + great deal of money during her visit to London, and she left with the + reputation of being the most marvellous and most rapacious of Italians. + Gabrielli seems to have tried to make up by capriciousness what she lacked + in expression. Her voice was, so far as can be gathered from contemporary + accounts, small and thin. But by judiciously disappointing the public she + became the most widely talked of vocalist in the country. Then among the + men were the simple and gracious Pacchierotti—who undoubtedly became + attached to Fanny Burney—Rauzzini, and Piozzi. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0049.jpg" alt="0049 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0049.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + The Burneys' house was for years the centre of the highest intellectual + entertainment to be found in London, and the tact of the head of the + household, and the simple, natural manners of his daughters, usually + succeeded in preventing the intrusion of a single inharmonious note, in + spite of the fact that a Welsh harpist named Jones had once been among the + visitors. + </p> + <p> + But upon the occasion of this “command” party, when Greville was to meet + Johnson, and the latter had dressed himself with that extreme care which + we suspect meant that he tied up his hose, and put on a wig the front of + which had not yet been burnt away by coming in contact with his lighted + candle, Burney's tact overreached itself. Mr. Greville may have felt that + the Thrales had no business to be of the party, or Johnson may have gained + the impression that Burney's old patron was anxious to play the same part, + in an honorary sort of way, in regard to himself. At any rate, he refused + to be drawn out to exhibit his conversational powers to a supercilious + visitor; and after a brief space of time he turned his back upon every one + and his face to the fire, and there he sat, greatly to the discomfiture, + no doubt, of his host. In a very short time a gloom settled down upon the + whole party. Mr. Thrale, stiff and reserved, was not the man to pull + things together. He sat mute on his chair, making no advance toward Mr. + Greville, and Mr. Greville had probably his chin in the air, having come + to the conclusion that Dr. Johnson's powers as a conversationalist had + been greatly overrated by rumour. + </p> + <p> + It was when all hope of sociability had vanished that Dr. Burney, who, + when a church organist, may have had occasion to cover up the shortcomings + of the clergyman by a timely voluntary, begged Signor Piozzi to oblige the + company with a song. But Piozzi was a forlorn hope. He was the last man in + the world to save the situation. Had he been a vocalist of the calibre of + Pacchierotti he could have made no headway against the funereal gloom that + had settled down upon the party. + </p> + <p> + Piozzi had a sweet and highly trained voice, though some years earlier he + had lost its best notes, and he sang with exquisite expression; but when + playing his own accompaniment, with his back turned to his audience, he + was prone to exaggerate the sentiment of the music until sentiment became + lost in an exuberance of sentimentality. + </p> + <p> + This style of singing is not that to which any one would resort in order + to dissipate a sudden social gloom. As the singer went on the gloom + deepened. + </p> + <p> + It was just at this moment that one of those ironic little imps that lurk + in wainscot nooks looking out for an opportunity to influence an + unconscious human being to an act which the little demon, seeing the end + of a scene of which mortals only see the beginning, regards with sardonic + glee, whispered something in the ear of Mrs. Thrale, and in an instant, in + obedience to its prompting, she had left her chair and stolen behind the + singer at the piano. Raising her hands and turning up her eyes in + imitation of Piozzi, she indulged in a piece of mimicry which must have + shocked every one in the room except the singer, who had his back to her, + and Dr. Johnson, who, besides being too short-sighted to be able to see + her, was gazing into the grate. + </p> + <p> + No doubt the flippant little lady felt that a touch of farcical fun was + the very thing needed to make the party go with a snap; but such flagrant + bad taste as was involved in the transaction was more than Dr. Burney + could stand. Keeping his temper marvellously well in hand, considering his + provocation, he went gently behind the gesticulating woman and put a stop + to her fooling. Shaking his head, he whispered in a “half joke whole + earnest” way: + </p> + <p> + “Because, madam, you have no ear yourself for music, will you destroy the + attention of all who, in that one point, are otherwise gifted?” + </p> + <p> + Or words to that effect, it might be safe to add, for the phrases as + recorded in the diary of one of his daughters are a trifle too academic + for even Dr. Burney to have whispered on the spur of the moment. But he + certainly reproved the lady, and she took his remonstrance in good part, + and showed herself to be admirably appreciative of the exact pose to + assume in order to save the situation. She went demurely to her chair and + sat there stiffly, and with the affectation of a schoolgirl who has been + admonished for a fault and commanded to take a seat in silence and apart + from the rest of the class. It must be apparent to every one that this was + the precise attitude for her to strike in the circumstances, and that she + was able to perceive this in a rather embarrassing moment shows that Mrs. + Thrale was quite as clever as her friends made her out to be. + </p> + <p> + But regarding the incident itself, surely the phrase, “the irony of fate,” + was invented to describe it. A better illustration of the sport of + circumstance could not be devised, for in the course of time the lively + little lady, who had gone as far as any one could go in making a mock of + another, had fallen as deep in love with the man whom she mocked as ever + Juliet did with her Romeo. She found that she could not live without him, + and, sacrificing friends, position, and fortune, she threw herself into + his arms, and lived happy ever after. + </p> + <p> + The conclusion of the first scene in this saturnine comedy which was being + enacted in the drawing-room in that house in St. Martin's Street, was in + perfect keeping with the <i>mise-en-scène</i> constructed by Fate, taking + the rôle of Puck. It is admirably described in the diary of Charlotte + Burney. She wrote that Mr. Greville—whom she nicknamed “Mr. Gruel”—assumed + “his most supercilious air of distant superiority” and “planted himself + immovable as a noble statue upon the hearth, as if a stranger to the whole + set.” + </p> + <p> + By this time Dr. Johnson must have had enough of the fire at which he had + been sitting, and we at once see how utterly hopeless were the social + relations at this miserable party when we hear that the men “were so kind + and considerate as to divert themselves by making a fire-screen to the + whole room.” But Dr. Johnson, having thoroughly warmed himself, was now in + a position to administer a rebuke to the less fortunate ones, and, when + nobody would have imagined that he had known the gentlemen were in the + room, he said that “if he was not ashamed he would keep the fire from the + ladies too.” + </p> + <p> + “This reproof (for a reproof it certainly was, although given in a very + comical, dry way) was productive,” Charlotte adds, “of a scene as good as + a comedy, for Mr. Suard tumbled on to a sopha directly, Mr. Thrale on to a + chair, Mr. Davenant sneaked off the premises, seemingly in as great a + fright and as much confounded as if he had done any bad action, and Mr. + Gruel being left solus, was obliged to stalk off.” + </p> + <p> + A more perfect description of the “curtain” to the first act of this, “as + good as a comedy,” could not be imagined. In every scene of this memorable + evening the mocking figure of an impish Fate can be discerned. There was + the tactful and urbane Dr. Burney anxious to gratify his old patron by + presenting to him the great Dr. Johnson, and at the same time to show on + what excellent terms he himself was with the family of the wealthy brewer, + Mr. Thrale. Incidentally he has caused Johnson to put himself to the + inconvenience of a clean shirt and a respectable wig; and, like a + thoughtful general, lest any of his plans should fall short of fulfilment, + he has invited an interesting vocalist to cover up the retreat and make + failure almost impossible! + </p> + <p> + Dr. Burney could do wonders by the aid of his tact and urbanity, but he is + no match for Fate playing the part of Puck. Within an hour Johnson has + disappointed him and become grumpy—the old bear has found the buns + to be stale; Mr. Greville, the patron, is in a patronising mood, and + becomes stiff and aloof because Johnson, secure with his pension, resents + it; Mrs. Thrale, anxious to do her best for Burney, and at the same time + to show Mrs. Greville and her fine daughter how thoroughly at home she is + in the house and how delicate is her sense of humour, strikes an + appallingly false note, and only saves herself by a touch of cleverness + from appearing wholly ridiculous. This is pretty well for the opening + scenes, but the closing catastrophe is not long delayed. The men huddle + themselves together in stony silence; and they are reproved for + impoliteness by—whom? Dr. Johnson, the man who has studied + boorishness and advanced it to a place among the arts—the man who + calls those who differ from him dolts and fools and rascals—the man + whose manners at the dinner table are those of the sty and trough—the + man who walks about the streets ungartered and unclean—this is the + man who has the effrontery to rebuke for their rudeness such gentlemen as + Mr. Fulk Greville, Mr. Seward, and Mr. Thrale! Puck can go no further. + Down comes the curtain when one gentleman collapses upon a “sopha,” + another into a chair, a third sneaks off like a culprit, and the fourth + stalks off with an air of offended dignity! + </p> + <p> + It might be thought that the imp of mischief who had assumed the control + of this evening's entertainment would be satisfied at the result of his + pranks so far. Nothing of the sort. He was only satisfied when he had made + a match between the insignificant figure who was playing the musical + accompaniment to his pranks and the lady who thought that his presence in + the room was only justifiable on the ground that he made an excellent butt + for her mockery! + </p> + <p> + And the funniest part of the whole comedy is to be found in the fact that + the pair lived happy ever after! + </p> + <p> + The extraordinary influence which Boswell has had upon almost every + student of the life of the latter half of the eighteenth century is shown + in a marked way by the general acceptance of his view—which it is + scarcely necessary to say was Johnson's view—of the second marriage + of Mrs. Thrale. We are treating Boswell much more fairly than he treated + Mrs. Thrale when we acknowledge at once that his opinion was shared by a + considerable number of the lady's friends, including Dr. Burney and his + family. They were all shocked when they heard that the widow of the + Southwark brewer had married the Italian musician, Signor Gabrielli + Piozzi. Even in the present day, when one might reasonably expect that, + the miserable pettiness of Boswell's character having been made apparent, + his judgment on most points would be received with a smile, he is taken + very seriously by a good many people. It has long ago been made plain that + Boswell was quite unscrupulous in his treatment of every one that crossed + his path or made an attempt to interfere with the aim of his life, which + was to become the biographer of Johnson. The instances of his petty + malevolence which have come to light within recent years are innumerable. + They show that the opinion which his contemporaries formed of him was + absolutely correct. We know that he was regarded as a cur who was ever at + Johnson's heels, and took the insults of the great man with a fawning + complacency that was pathetically canine. He was daily called a cur. “Oh, + no,” said Goldsmith, “he is not a cur, only a burr; Tom Davies flung him + at Johnson one day as a joke, and he stuck to him ever since”—a cur, + and an ape and a spy and a Branghton—the last by Dr. Johnson himself + in the presence of a large company, that included the creator of the + contemptible Mr. Branghton. (The incident was not, however, recorded by + Mr. Boswell himself.) But as the extraordinary interest in his <i>Life of + Johnson</i> began to be acknowledged, the force of contemporary opinion + gradually dwindled away, until Boswell's verdicts and Boswell's inferences + found general acceptance; and even now Goldsmith is regarded as an Irish + <i>omadhaum</i>, because Boswell did his best to make him out to be one, + and Mrs. Thrale is thought to have forfeited her claims to respect because + she married Signor Piozzi. + </p> + <p> + People forget the origin of Boswell's malevolence in both cases. He + detested Goldsmith because Goldsmith was a great writer, who was capable + of writing a great biography of Johnson, with whom he had been on the most + intimate terms long before Tom Davies flung his burr at Johnson; he hated + Baretti and recorded—at the sacrifice of Johnson's reputation for + humanity—Johnson's cynical belittling of him, because he feared that + Baretti would write <i>the</i> biography; he was spiteful in regard to + Mrs. Thrale because she actually did write something biographical about + Johnson. + </p> + <p> + The impudence of such a man as Boswell writing about “honest Dr. + Goldsmith” is only surpassed by his allusions to the second marriage of + Mrs. Thrale. He was a fellow-guest with Johnson at the Thrales' house in + 1775, and he records something of a conversation which he says occurred on + the subject of a woman's marrying some one greatly beneath her socially. + “When I recapitulate the debate,” he says, “and recollect what has since + happened, I cannot but be struck in a manner that delicacy forbids me to + express! While I contended that she ought to be treated with inflexible + steadiness of displeasure, Mrs. Thrale was all for mildness and + forgiveness and, according to the vulgar phrase, making the best of a bad + bargain.” This was published after the second marriage. What would be + thought of a modern biographer who should borrow a little of Boswell's + “delicacy,” and refer to a similar incident in the same style? + </p> + <p> + In his own inimitable small way Boswell was for ever sneering at Mrs. + Thrale. Sometimes he did it with that scrupulous delicacy of which an + example has just been given; but he called her a liar more than once with + considerable indelicacy, and his readers will without much trouble come to + the conclusion that his indelicacy was preferable to his delicacy—it + certainly came more natural to him. He was small and mean in all his ways, + and never smaller or meaner than in his references to Mrs. Thrale's second + marriage. + </p> + <p> + But, it must be repeated, he did not stand alone in regarding her union + with Piozzi as a <i>mésalliance</i>. Dr. Burney was shocked at the thought + that any respectable woman would so far forget herself as to marry a + musician, and his daughter Fanny wept remorseful tears when she reflected + that she had once been the friend of a lady who did not shrink from + marrying a foreigner and a Roman Catholic—more of the irony of Fate, + for Fanny Burney was herself guilty of the same indiscretion later on: she + made a happy marriage with a Roman Catholic foreigner, who lived on her + pension and her earnings. Dr. Johnson was brutal when the conviction was + forced upon him that he would no longer have an opportunity of insulting a + lady who had treated him with incredible kindness, or the guests whom he + met at her table. Upon one of the last occasions of his dining at Mrs. + Thrale's house at Streatham, a gentleman present—an inoffensive + Quaker—ventured to make a remark respecting the accuracy with which + the red-hot cannon-balls were fired at the Siege of Gibraltar. Johnson + listened for some time, and then with a cold sneer said, “I would advise + you, sir, never to relate this story again. You really can scarce imagine + how very poor a figure you make in the telling of it.” Later on he took + credit to himself for not quarrelling with his victim when the latter + chose to talk to his brother rather than to the man who had insulted him. + Yes, it can quite easily be understood that Johnson should look on the + marriage as a sad <i>mésalliance</i>, and possibly it is fair to assume + from the letter which he wrote to the lady that he felt hurt when he heard + that it was to take place. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Thrale wrote to tell him that she meant to marry Piozzi, and received + the following reply: + </p> + <p> + “Madam,—If I interpret your letter right, you are ignominiously + married; if it is yet undone, let us once more talk together. If you have + abandoned your children and your religion, God forgive your wickedness; if + you have forfeited your fame and your country, may your folly do no + further mischief!” + </p> + <p> + Possibly the lady may have gathered from the hint or two conveyed to her, + with Boswellian delicacy, in this letter, that Johnson was displeased with + her. At any rate, she replied, declining to continue the correspondence. + </p> + <p> + In her letter she summed up the situation exactly as a reasonable person, + acquainted with all the facts, and knowing something of the first husband, + would do. + </p> + <p> + “The birth of my second husband is not meaner than that of my first,” she + wrote; “his sentiments are not meaner; his profession is not meaner; and + his superiority in what he professes acknowledged by all mankind. It is + want of fortune, then, that is ignominious; the character of the man I + have chosen has no other claim to such an epithet. The religion to which + he has always been a zealous adherent, will, I hope, teach him to forgive + insults he has not deserved; mine will, I hope, enable [me] to bear them + at once with dignity and patience. To hear that I have forfeited my fame + is indeed the greatest insult I ever yet received. My fame is as unsullied + as snow, or I should think it unworthy of him who must henceforth protect + it.” + </p> + <p> + This brought the surly burly mass of offended dignity to his proper level; + but still he would not offer the lady who had been his benefactress for + twenty years an apology for his brutality. He had the presumption to offer + his advice instead—advice and the story (highly appropriate from his + point of view) of Mary Queen of Scots and the Archbishop of St. Andrews. + He advised her to remain in England—he would not relinquish his room + in her house and his place at her table without a struggle—as her + rank would be higher in England than in Italy, and her fortune would be + under her own eye. The latter suggestion was a delicate insult to Piozzi. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Piozzi, as she then became, showed that she esteemed this piece of + presumption, under the guise of advice, at its true value. Immediately + after her marriage she went abroad with her husband, though eventually she + settled with him in England. + </p> + <p> + Now, most modern readers will, we think, when they have become acquainted + with the whole story of Mrs. Thrale's life, arrive at the conclusion that + it was her first marriage that was the <i>mésalliance</i>, not her second. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0065.jpg" alt="0065 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0065.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + Henry Thrale was a man of humble origin—a fact that revealed itself + almost daily in his life—and he was incapable of loving any one + except himself. He certainly never made a pretence of devotion to his + wife, and it is equally certain that, although she did more for him than + any other woman would have done, she never loved him. It might be going + too far, considering the diversity of temperament existing among + womankind, to assert that he was incapable of being loved by any woman; + but beyond a doubt he was not a lovable man. He was a stiff, dignified, + morose, uncongenial man, and he was a Member of Parliament into the + bargain. What could a pretty, lively, brilliant girl of good family see in + such a man as Thrale to make her love him? She never did love him—at + times she must have detested him. But she married him, and it was a lucky + day for him that she did so. Twice she saved him from bankruptcy, and + three times she induced his constituents, who thoroughly hated him, to + return him to Parliament as their representative. He never did anything in + Parliament, and he did little out of it that was worth remembering. It is + customary to make large allowances for a man of business who finds that + his wealth and a charming wife serve as a passport into what is called + society, though latterly such men do not stand in need of such a favour + being shown to them. But if a man betrays his ignorance of certain social + usages—not necessarily refinements—his friends excuse him on + the ground that he is a first-rate business man. Thrale, however, was + unworthy of such a title. He inherited a great scientific business, but he + showed himself so incapable of appreciating the methods by which it had + been built up, that he brought himself within a week or two of absolute + ruin by listening to a clumsy adventurer who advocated the adoption of a + system of adulteration of his beer that even a hundred and fifty years ago + would have brought him within sight of a criminal prosecution. + </p> + <p> + His literary wife, by her clever management, aided by the money of her + mother and of sundry of her own, not her husband's, friends, succeeded in + staving off the threatened disaster. But the pig-headed man did not accept + the lesson which one might imagine he would have learned. Seeing the + success that crowned other enterprises of the same character as his own, + he endeavoured to emulate this success, not by the legitimate way of + increasing his customers, but by the idiotic plan of over-production. He + had an idea that in the multiplying of the article which he had to sell he + was increasing his business. Once again he was helped from the verge of + ruin by his literary wife. + </p> + <p> + He must have been a dreadful trial to her, and to a far-seeing manager + whom he had—a man named Perkins. Of course it was inevitable that + the force of character possessed by this Mr. Perkins must eventually + prevail against the dignified incompetence of the proprietor. The + inevitable happened, and the name of Perkins has for more than a hundred + years been bracketed with Barclay as a going concern, while the name of + Thrale has vanished for ever from “the Borough.” + </p> + <p> + It was this Mr. Perkins who, when the brewery was within five minutes of + absolute disaster, displayed the tactics of a great general in the face of + an implacable enemy, and saved the property. As a reward for his services + his master authorised the presentation to him of the sum of a hundred + pounds. His master's wife, however, being a more generous assessor of the + value of the man's ability, ventured to present double the sum, together + with a silver tea-service for Mrs. Perkins; but she did so in fear and + trembling, failing to summon up sufficient courage to acquaint her husband + with her extravagance until further concealment was impossible. She was so + overjoyed at his sanctioning the increase that she at once wrote to her + friends acquainting them with this evidence of his generosity. + </p> + <p> + This episode was certainly the most stirring in the history of Thrale's + brewery. The Gordon rioters had been terrorising London for several days, + burning houses in every direction, as well as Newgate and another prison, + and looting street after street. They had already overthrown one brewery, + and they found the incident so fascinating that they marched across the + bridge to the Southwark concern, raising the cry that Thrale was a Papist. + The Thrales were at this time sojourning at Bath, and were in an agony of + suspense regarding their property. They had left Dr. Johnson comfortably + ensconced at their Streatham house in order that they might learn in + dignified language how things were going on. + </p> + <p> + This is Johnson's thrilling account of the incident: + </p> + <p> + “What has happened to your house you all know. The harm is only a few + butts of beer, and I think you may be sure that the danger is over. Pray + tell Mr. Thrale that I live here, and have no fruit, and if he does not + interpose am not likely to have much; but I think he might as well give me + a little as give all to the gardener.” + </p> + <p> + There was a double catastrophe threatening, it would appear: the burning + of the brewery and the shortage in the supply of Dr. Johnson's peaches. + </p> + <p> + This is how Mrs. Thrale describes the situation: + </p> + <p> + “Nothing but the astonishing presence of mind shewed by Perkins in amusing + the mob, with meat and drink and huzzas, till Sir Philip Jennings Clerke + could get the troops, and pack up the counting-house, bills, bonds etc. + and carry them, which he did, to Chelsea College for safety, could have + saved us from actual undoing. The villains <i>had</i> broke in, and our + brew-house would have blazed in ten minutes, when a property of £150,000 + would have been utterly lost, and its once flourishing possessors quite + undone.” + </p> + <p> + It seems almost incredible that Johnson, living at Streatham as the + guardian of Mr. Thrale's interests, should require the lady to write to + him, begging him to thank Perkins for his heroism. But so it was. + </p> + <p> + “Perkins has behaved like an Emperor,” she wrote, “and it is my earnest + wish and desire—command, if you please to call it so—that you + will go over to the brew-house and express <i>your</i> sense of his good + behaviour.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Thrale was unreasonable. How could Johnson be expected to take any + action when he was deprived of his peaches? + </p> + <p> + It will strike a good many modern readers of the account of this and other + transactions that if it was Perkins who saved the brewery for Mr. Thrale, + it was Mrs. Thrale who saved Perkins for the brewery. Possibly it was her + prompt gift of the silver plate to Mrs. Perkins that induced this splendid + manager to pocket the insult of the beggarly two hundred guineas given to + him by Mrs. Thrale—though this was double the amount authorised by + the “master.” Thrale never sufficiently valued the services of Perkins. If + he had had any gratitude in his composition he would never have made + Johnson one of his executors. What a trial it must have been to the + competent man of business to see Johnson lumbering about the place with a + pen behind his ear and an ink-pot suspended from a button of his coat, + getting in the way of everybody, and yet feeling himself quite equal to + any business emergency that might crop up. He felt himself equal to + anything—even to improve upon the auctioneer's style in appraising + the value of the whole concern. “Beyond the dreams of avarice” remains as + the sole classic phrase born beneath the shadow of a brew-house. + </p> + <p> + In the matter of the premium to Perkins, Thrale should have felt that he + had a treasure in his wife, to say nothing of all that she had done for + him upon another occasion, involving a terrible sacrifice. A quarrel had + broken out among the clerks at the brewery, which even the generalship of + Perkins was unable to mollify. Had Mrs. Thrale been an ordinary woman she + would not have jeopardised her own life and the life of her child—her + thirteenth—in her husband's interests. As it was, however, she felt + that the duty was imposed on her to settle the difficulties in the + counting-house, and she did so; but only after many sleepless nights and + the sacrifice of her child. “The men were reconciled,” she wrote, “and my + danger accelerated their reconcilement.” + </p> + <p> + If Henry Thrale was deficient in the best characteristics of a business + man, his qualifications to shine socially can scarcely be regarded as + abundant. There were stories of his having been a gay dog in his youth, + but assuredly he and gaiety had long been strangers when he married his + wife, and upon no occasion afterwards could he be so described even by the + most indulgent of his friends; so that one rather inclines to the belief + that the dull dog must have been a dull puppy. We know what his eldest + daughter was, and we are convinced that the nature of that priggish, + dignified, and eminently disagreeable young lady was inherited from her + father. In Miss Thrale as a girl one feels that one is looking at Henry + Thrale as a boy. The only story that survives of those mythical gay days + with which he was accredited is that relating to the arrival of the + Gunnings to take London by storm. It was said that he and Murphy thought + to make these exquisite creatures the laughing-stock of the town by + introducing them to a vulgar hanger-on of Murphy, in the character of a + wealthy man of title and distinction. Possibly the two young men were put + up to play this disgraceful prank upon the Gunnings by some jealous female + associate; but however this may be, it not only failed most ignominiously, + it recoiled upon the jesters themselves, for Mrs. Gunning, herself the + sister of a nobleman, and destined to become the mother-in-law of two + dukes and the grandmother of two more—the parent of a peeress in her + own right, and an uncommonly shrewd Irishwoman into the bargain—“smoaked,” + as the slang of the period had it, the trick, and her footman bundled the + trio into the street. + </p> + <p> + The story may be true; but as both the Gunning girls were married in 1752, + and Thrale did not meet Hester Lynch Salusbury till 1763, it was an old + story then, and it was not remembered against him except by the Duchess of + Hamilton. If it represents the standard of his adolescent wildness, we + cannot but think that his youth was less meteoric than his wife believed + it to be. At any rate, we do not know much about his early life, but we do + know a great deal about his latter years, and it is impossible to believe + that his nature underwent a radical change within a year or two of his + marriage. + </p> + <p> + He became the host of a large number of the most notable people of that + brilliant period at which he lived, and we perceive from the copious + accounts that survive of the Streatham gatherings that he was greatly + respected by all his visitors. He never said anything that was worth + recording, and he never did anything memorable beyond stopping Johnson + when the latter was becoming more than usually offensive to his + fellow-guests. He had no ear for music any more than Johnson had, and it + does not appear that he cared any more for painting, although he became a + splendid patron of Sir Joshua Reynolds, whom he commissioned to paint + several portraits of his distinguished friends for the decoration of the + library at Streatham. To his munificence in this respect the world owes + its finest portraits of Goldsmith, Burke, Garrick, the painter himself, + and Mrs. Thrale. + </p> + <p> + The debt which we feel we owe to Thrale on this account is, however, + somewhat discounted when we learn that this enthusiastic patron of art + never paid the painter for his work. He left the pictures and the + obligation to pay for them as a legacy to his widow—and to pay for + them at more than the current rate for each into the bargain. Sir Joshua + Reynolds was as good a man of business as Thrale was an indifferent one. + At the time of his painting the portraits his price for a + three-quarter-length picture was £35, but in the course of a year or two + he felt it necessary to charge £50 for the same size, and this was the + price which the unfortunate widow had to pay for her husband's pose as the + munificent patron of the Arts. + </p> + <p> + Men of the stamp of Thrale usually have no vices. + </p> + <p> + They are highly respected. If they had a vice or two they would be + beloved. He had a solitary failing, but it did not win for him the + affection of any one: it was gluttony. For years of his life he gave + himself up to the coarsest form of indulgence. He was not a gourmet: he + did not aim at the refinements of the table or at those daintinesses of + cuisine which in the days of intemperate eaters and drinkers proved so + fatally fascinating to men of many virtues; no, his was the vice of the + trough. He ate for the sake of eating, unmindful of the nature of the dish + so long as it was plentiful enough to keep him employed for an hour or + two. + </p> + <p> + The dinner-table of the famous Streatham Park must have been a spectacle + for some of the philosophers who sat round it. We know what was the food + that Johnson's soul loved, and we know how he was accustomed to partake of + it. He rioted in pork, and in veal baked with raisins, and when he sat + down to some such dainty he fed like a wild animal. He used his fingers as + though they were claws, tearing the flesh from the bone in his teeth, and + swallowing it not wholly without sound. It is not surprising to learn that + his exertions caused the veins in his forehead to swell and the beads of + perspiration to drop from his scholarly brow, nor can any one who has + survived this account of his muscular feat at the dinner-table reasonably + be amazed to hear that when so engaged, he devoted himself to the work + before him to the exclusion of every other interest in life. He was + oblivious of anything that was going on around him. He was deaf to any + remark made by a neighbour, and for himself articulation was suspended. + Doubtless the feeble folk on whom he had been trampling in the + drawing-room felt that his peculiarities of feeding, though revolting to + the squeamish, were not without a bright side. They had a chance of making + a remark at such intervals without being gored—“gored,” it will be + remembered, was the word employed by Boswell in playful allusion to the + effect of his argumentative powers. + </p> + <p> + Thanks to the careful habits of some of the guests at this famous house we + know what fare was placed before the Gargantuan geniuses at one of these + dinners. Here is the <i>carte du jour</i>, “sufficient for twelve,” as the + cookery book says: + </p> + <p> + “First course, soups at head and foot, removed by fish and a saddle of + mutton; second course, a fowl they call galena at head and a capon larger + than some of our Irish turkeys at foot; third course, four different sorts + of ices, pine-apple, grape, raspberry and a fourth; in each remove there + were fourteen dishes.” The world is indebted to an Irish clergyman for + these details. It will be seen that they did not include much that could + be sneered at as bordering on the kickshaw. All was good solid English + fare—just the sort to make the veins in a gormandiser's forehead to + swell and to induce the lethargy from which Thrale suffered. He usually + fell asleep after dinner; one day he failed to awake, and he has not + awakened since. + </p> + <p> + Of course Johnson, being invariably in delicate health, was compelled to + put himself on an invalid's diet when at home. He gives us a sample of a + <i>diner maigre</i> at Bolt Court. Feeling extremely ill, he wrote to Mrs. + Thrale that he could only take for dinner “skate, pudding, goose, and + green asparagus, and could have eaten more but was prudent.” He adds, + “Pray for me, dear Madam,”—by no means an unnecessary injunction, + some people will think, when they become aware of the details of the meal + of an invalid within a year or two of seventy. + </p> + <p> + It was after one of the Streatham dinners that Mrs. Thrale ventured to say + a word or two in favour of Garrick's talent for light gay poetry, and as a + specimen repeated his song in <i>Florizel and Perdita</i>, and dwelt with + peculiar pleasure on this line: + </p> + <p> + <i>I'd smile with the simple and dine with the poor.</i> + </p> + <p> + This is Boswell's account of the matter, and he adds that Johnson cried, + “Nay, my dear lady, this will never do. Poor David! Smile with the simple! + What folly is that? And who would feed with the poor that can help it? No, + no; let me smile with the wise and feed with the rich!” + </p> + <p> + Quite so; beyond a doubt Johnson spoke from the bottom of his heart—nay, + from a deeper depth still. + </p> + <p> + Boswell was amazed to find that Garrick's “sensibility” as a writer was + irritated when he related the story to him, and in Mrs. Thrale's copy of + Johnson she made a note—“How odd to go and tell the man!” + </p> + <p> + It was not at all odd that Boswell, being a professional tale-bearer and + mischief-maker, should tell the man; but it is odd that Garrick should be + irritated, the fact being that the sally was directed against a line which + he did not write. What Garrick did write was something very different. The + verse, which was misquoted, runs thus: + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + That giant Ambition we never can dread; + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + Our roofs are too low for so lofty a head; + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + Content and sweet Cheerfulness open our door, + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + They smile with the simple and feed with the poor. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + Such a muddle as was made of the whole thing can only be attributed to the + solidity of the Streatham fare. + </p> + <p> + It was inevitable that Thrale could not continue over-eating himself with + impunity. He was warned more than once by his doctors that he was killing + himself, and yet when he had his first attack every one was shocked. He + recovered temporarily, and all his friends implored him to cultivate + moderation at the dinner-table. A touch of humour is to be found among the + details of the sordid story, in his wife's begging Johnson—Johnson + of the swollen forehead and the tokens of his submission to the primeval + curse in the eating of his bread—to try to reason the unhappy man + out of his dreadful vice. After wiping from the front of his coat the + remains of the eighth peach which he had eaten before breakfast, or the + dregs of his nineteenth cup of tea from his waistcoat, Johnson may have + felt equal to the duty. He certainly remonstrated with Thrale. It was all + to no purpose, however; he had a second attack of apoplexy in the spring + of 1780, and we hear that he was copiously “blooded.” He recovered and + went to Bath to recruit. It was during this visit to Bath that the brewery + was attacked by the Gordon rioters. On returning to London he failed to + induce his constituents to remain faithful to him, and he continued eating + voraciously for another year. He began a week of gorging on April 1st, + 1781. His wife implored him to be more moderate, and Johnson said very + wisely, “Sir, after the denunciation of your physicians this morning, such + eating is little better than suicide.” It was all to no purpose. He + survived the gorge of Sunday and Monday, but that of Tuesday was too much + for him. He was found by his daughter on the floor in a fit of apoplexy, + and died the next morning. + </p> + <p> + Such was the man whose memory was outraged by the marriage of his widow + with Piozzi, an Italian musician, whose ability was so highly appreciated + that his earnings, even when he had lost his voice, amounted to £1200 a + year, a sum equal to close upon £2500 of our money. And yet Johnson had + the effrontery to suggest in that letter of his to Mrs. Thrale, which we + have quoted, that she would do well to live in England, so that her money + might be under her own eye! + </p> + <p> + The truth is that Mrs. Thrale was in embarrassed circumstances when she + married Signor Piozzi. Her worthy husband left her an annuity of £2000, + which was to be reduced by £800 in the event of her marrying again; and + also £500 for her immediate expenses. Johnson wrote to her, making her + acquainted with this fact, in order, it would seem, to allay any unworthy + suspicion which she might entertain as to the extent of her husband's + generosity. But his last will and testament cannot have wholly dispersed + the doubt into which her experience of Mr. Thrale may have led her. For a + man who had been making from £16,000 to £20,000 a year to leave his wife + only £2000 a year, with a possibility of its being reduced to £1200, would + not strike any one as being generous to a point of recklessness. When, + however, it is remembered that Thrale's wife plucked him and his business + from the verge of bankruptcy more than once, that she bore him fourteen + children, and that she lived with him for eighteen years, all question as + to the generosity of his bequest to her vanishes. But when, in addition, + it is remembered that the lady's fortune at her marriage to Thrale + amounted to £10,000, all of which he pocketed, and that later on she + brought him another £500 a year, that it was her mother's money, added to + the sum which she herself collected personally, which saved the brewery + from collapse—once again at the sacrifice of her infant—all + question even of common fairness disappears, and the meanness of the man + stands revealed. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> </a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0083.jpg" alt="0083 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0083.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + It was through the exertions and by the business capacity of his widow + that the brewery was sold for £135,000. She was the only one of the + trustees who knew anything definite about the value of the property, and + had she not been on the spot, that astute Mr. Perkins could have so worked + the concern that he might have been able to buy it in a year or two for + the value of the building materials. And yet when she became involved in a + lawsuit that involved the paying of £7000, she had difficulty in + persuading her daughters' trustees to advance her the money, although the + security of the mortgage which she offered for the accommodation would + have satisfied any bankers. A wretch named Crutchley, who was one of this + precious band of incompetents, on the completion of the deed bade her + thank her daughters for keeping her out of gaol. It is not recorded that + the lady replied, though she certainly might have done so, and with truth + on her side, that if her daughters had kept her out of a gaol she had kept + her daughters out of a workhouse. She would have done much better to have + gone to her friends the Barclays, whose bank had a hundred and fifty years + ago as high a reputation for probity combined with liberality as the same + concern enjoys to-day. + </p> + <p> + Enough of the business side of Mrs. Thrale's second marriage has been + revealed to make it plain that Piozzi was not influenced by any mercenary + motives in the transaction. On the contrary, it was he who came to her + assistance when she was in an extremity, and by the prompt loan of £1000 + extricated her from her embarrassment, and left the next day for Italy, + without having any hope of marrying her. + </p> + <p> + Johnson's verdict on Piozzi, communicated to Miss Seward, was that he was + an ugly dog, without particular skill in his profession. Unfortunately for + this musical enthusiast and devotee to beauty, Miss Seward met Piozzi on + his return from Italy with his wife. (His excellent control of her money + had resulted in every penny of the mortgage being paid, and of the + lodgment of £1500 to their credit in the bank). And Miss Seward, writing + from Lichfield—more of the irony of Fate—in 1787, affirmed + that the great Lichfield man “did not tell me the truth when he asserted + that Piozzi was an ugly dog, without particular skill in his profession. + M. Piozzi is a handsome man in middle life, with gentle, pleasing, + unaffected manners, and with very eminent skill in his profession. Though + he has not a powerful or fine-toned voice, he sings with transcending + grace and expression. I was charmed with his perfect expression on his + instrument. Surely the finest sensibilities must vibrate through his + frame, since they breathe so sweetly through his song.” From this verdict + no person who was acquainted with Signor Piozzi differed. Mrs. Thrale's + marriage with Piozzi was as fortunate for her as her first marriage was + for Thrale. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A TRAGEDY IN THE HAYMARKET + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>BOUT half-past + nine o'clock on the night of October 6th, 1769, a tall, middle-aged + gentleman named Joseph Baretti was walking up the Hay-market. The street + was probably as well lighted as any other in London, and this is + equivalent to saying that a foot passenger, by keeping close to the + windows of the shops and taking cross bearings of the economically + distributed oil lamps hung out at the corners of the many lanes, might be + able to avoid the deep channel of filth that slunk along the margin of + cobble stones. But just at this time the Haymarket must have been + especially well illuminated, for the Opera House was in the act of + discharging its audience, and quite a number of these fashionable folk + went home in their chairs, with link boys walking by the side of the burly + Irish chairmen, showing a flaring flame which left behind it a long trail + of suffocating smoke, and spluttered resin and bitumen into the faces and + upon the garments of all who were walking within range of the illuminant. + Then there was the little theatre higher up the street, and its lamps were + not yet extinguished; so that Mr. Baretti may have felt that on the whole + he was fortunate in the hour he had chosen for his stroll to the + coffee-house where he meant to sup. He may have thought that he had a + chance of coming across his friend Sir Joshua Reynolds leaving one of the + playhouses, and of being invited by that hospitable gentleman to his house + in Leicester Fields; or his still more intimate friend Dr. Samuel Johnson, + who would certainly insist on carrying him off to the “Mitre,” unless the + great man were accompanied by that little Scotch person, James Boswell, + who usually wanted him all to himself, after he had given people a chance + of seeing him in the company of his distinguished friend, and envying him + his position of intimacy—the same position of intimacy that exists + between a Duke and his doormat. Mr. Baretti was too short-sighted to have + any chance of recognising Sir Joshua Reynolds unless he chanced to be + standing under the lamp in the portico of the playhouse, but he felt that + he would have no trouble in recognising Dr. Johnson. The latter had + characteristics that appealed to other senses than the sense of seeing, + and made the act of recognition easy enough to his intimates. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Baretti, however, passed along the dispersing crowd, and was soon in + the dim regions of Panton Street, where pedestrians were few. But before + he had turned down this street he found his way barred by a couple of + half-drunken women. His infirmity of sight prevented his being aware of + their presence until he was almost in the arms of one of them, and the + very second that he made his sudden stop she made a change in the details + of the accident that seemed imminent and threw herself into his arms with + a yell. + </p> + <p> + The good man was staggered for a moment, but, recovering himself, he flung + her off with an expressive word or two in the Italian tongue. She went + limply back and, being adroitly avoided by her companion, gave a circular + stagger or two and fell into the gutter with a screech. + </p> + <p> + Baretti was hurrying on when out of the darkness of Panton Street a big + man sprang, followed quickly by two others. The first seized him by the + right arm with the oath of a bully, the others tried to trip him up, + shouting that he had killed a lady. Baretti was a powerful man and + decidedly tough. He struck at the fellow who had closed with him, and used + his feet against the attack of the others with considerable effect. He + managed to free his arm, but before he could draw his sword he was pulled + backward and would have fallen upon his head if he had not clutched the + coat of the man from whom he had freed himself. There was a pause of a few + seconds, filled up by the wild street yell of the women. The most + aggressive of the three men leapt upon the unfortunate Baretti, but before + their bodies met, gave a guttural shriek, then a groan. He staggered past, + his fingers tearing like talons at his ribs; he whirled twice round and, + gasping, fell on his knees, motionless only for a few seconds; his hands + dropped limply from his side, and he pitched forward on his head into the + gutter. + </p> + <p> + Baretti was standing, awaiting a further attack, with a knife in his hand, + when he was seized by some of the crowd. He offered no resistance. He + seemed to be so amazed at finding himself alive as to be incapable of + taking any further action. + </p> + <p> + “He has killed the man—stabbed him with a dagger to the very heart!” + was the cry that came from those of the crowd who were kneeling beside the + wretch in the gutter. + </p> + <p> + “And a woman—he had slain a woman at the outset. Hold him fast. None + of us are safe this night. Have a care for the dagger, friends!” + </p> + <p> + A sufficiency of advice was given by the excited onlookers to the men who + had encircled Baretti—one of them was clinging to him with his arms + clasped around his body—until two of the Haymarket watch hurried up, + striking right and left with their staves after the wholesome manner of + the period, and so making a way for their approach through the crowd. + </p> + <p> + “'Tis more than a street brawl—a man has been slain—some say a + woman also,” a shopkeeper explained to them, having run bareheaded out of + his shop; his apprentice had just put up the last of the shutters. + </p> + <p> + They had Baretti by the collar in a second, cautiously disarming him, + holding the weapon up to the nearest lamp. The blade was still wet with + blood. + </p> + <p> + “A swinging matter this,” one of them remarked. “I can swear to the blood. + No dagger, but a knife. What man walks the streets at night with a naked + knife unless slaughter is his intent?” + </p> + <p> + “Friends, I was attacked by three bullies, and I defended myself—that + is all,” said Baretti. He spoke English perfectly. + </p> + <p> + “You will need to tell that to Sir John in the morning,” said one of the + watchmen. “You are apprehended in the King's name. Where is the poor + victim?” + </p> + <p> + “There must be some of the crowd who saw how I was attacked,” said + Baretti. “They will testify that I acted in self-defence. Sirs, hear me + make an appeal to you. Out of your sense of justice—you will not see + an innocent man apprehended.” + </p> + <p> + “The knife—who carries a bare knife in the streets unless with + intent?” said a man. + </p> + <p> + “'Twas my fruit-knife. I never go abroad without it. I eat my fruit like a + Christian, not like a pig or an Englishman,” was the defence offered by + Baretti, who had now quite lost his temper and was speaking with his + accustomed bitterness. He usually sought to pass as an Englishman, but he + was now being arrested by the minions of the law as it was in England. + </p> + <p> + “Hear him! A pig of an Englishman. Those were his words! A foreign hound. + Frenchie, I'll be bound.” + </p> + <p> + “A spy—most like a Papist. He has the hanging brow of a born + Papist.” + </p> + <p> + “He'll hang like a dog at Tyburn—he may be sure o' that.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis the mercy o' Heaven that the rascal was caught red-handed! Sirs, + this may be the beginning of a dreadful massacring plot against the lives + of honest and peaceful people.” + </p> + <p> + The comments of a crowd of the period upon such an incident as the + stabbing of an Englishman by a foreigner in the streets of London can + easily be imagined. + </p> + <p> + Even when Baretti was put into a hackney coach and driven off to Bow + Street the crowd doubtless remained talking in groups of the menace to + English freedom and true religion by the arrival of pestilent foreigners, + every man of them carrying a knife. It would be a sad day for England when + Jesuitical fruit-knives took the place of good wholesome British bludgeons + in the settlement of the ordinary differences incidental to a Protestant + people. + </p> + <p> + It is certain that this was one of the comments of the disintegrating + crowd, and it is equally certain that Baretti commented pretty freely to + his custodians in the hackney coach upon the place occupied in the comity + of nations of that State, the social conditions of whose metropolis made + possible so gross a scandal as the arrest of a gentleman and a scholar, + solely by reason of his success in snatching his life out of the talons of + a ruffian and a bully. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Baretti was a gentleman and a scholar whose name appears pretty + frequently in the annals of the eighteenth century, but seldom with any + great credit to himself. As a matter of fact, this dramatic episode of the + stabbing of the man in the Haymarket is the happiest with which his name + is associated. He made his most creditable appearance in the chronicles of + the period as the chief actor in this sordid drama. He cuts a very poor + figure indeed upon every other occasion when he appears in the pages of + his contemporaries, though they all meant to be kind to him. + </p> + <p> + He never could bear people to be kind to him, and certainly, so far as he + himself was concerned, it cannot be said that any blame attaches to him + for the persistence of his friends in this direction. He did all that + mortal man could do to discourage them, and if after the lapse of a year + or two he was still treated by some with cordiality or respect, assuredly + it was not owing to his display of any qualities that justified their + maintenance of such an attitude. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Baretti was an eminently detestable scholar of many parts. He was as + detestable as he was learned—perhaps even more so. Learned men are + not invariably horrid, unless they are men of genius as well, and this + rarely happens. + </p> + <p> + Baretti had no such excuse, though it must be acknowledged that his + capacity for being disagreeable almost amounted to genius. Such a + character as his is now and again met with in daily life. A man who feels + himself to be, in point of scholarly attainment, far above the majority of + men, and who sees inferiority occupying a place of distinction while he + remains neglected and, to his thinking, unappreciated, is not an uncommon + figure in learned or artistic circles. Baretti was a disappointed man, and + he showed himself to be such. He had a grievance against the world for + being constituted as it is. He had a grievance against society. He had a + grievance against his friends who got on in the world. But the only people + against whom he was really malevolent were those who were signally and + unaccountably kind to him. He accepted their kindness, and then turned and + rent them. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Johnson met him when they were both working for the booksellers, and + when the great dictionary scheme was floated his co-operation was + welcomed. Johnson's success in life was largely due to his faculty for + discovering people who could be useful to him. It can easily be believed + that, knowing something of the scholarship of Baretti, he should be + delighted to avail himself of his help. Baretti had an intimate knowledge + of several languages and their literature; as a philologist he was + probably far superior to Johnson; and possibly Johnson knew this, though + he was doubtless too wise ever to acknowledge so much openly. We do not + hear that the relations between the two ever became strained while the + great work was in course of progress. Shortly after it was completed + Baretti returned to his native Italy, and began to reproach Johnson for + not writing to him more frequently. We have several examples of the + cheerfulness with which Johnson set about exculpating himself from such + reproaches. The letters which he wrote to him at Italy are among the most + natural that ever came from his pen. They are models of the gossipy style + which Johnson could assume without once deviating from that dignity which + so frequently became ponderous, suggesting the dignity of the elephant + rather than that of the lion. Walpole was a master of the art of being + gossipy without being dignified. But Johnson's style was not flexible. We + have not Baretti's letters to Johnson, but the references made by the + latter to some matters communicated to him by his correspondent let us + know something of how Baretti was getting on in the land of his birth. He + seems to have set his heart upon obtaining some appointment in Italy, and + his aspirations included marriage. He was disappointed in both directions; + and it would be too much to expect that his temper was improved by these + rebuffs. + </p> + <p> + It may well be believed that he quarrelled his way through Italy. “I have + lately seen Mr. Stratico, Professor of Padua, who has told me of your + quarrel with an abbot of the Celestine Order, but had not the particulars + very ready in his memory,” Johnson wrote to him at Milan. Any one who + could quarrel with an abbot of the Celestine Order would, we fancy, be <i>capable + de tout</i>, like the prophet Habakkuk, according to the witty Frenchman. + One is not disposed to be hard upon Professor Stratico for his shortness + of memory in regard to this particular quarrel; the strain of remembering + the details of all the quarrels of Mr. Baretti would be too great for any + man. + </p> + <p> + Of course, Dr. Johnson gave him some excellent advice. It seems that poor + Baretti had been at first so well received on his return to Italy that he + became sanguine of success in all his enterprises, and when they + miscarried he wrote very bitterly to Johnson, who replied as follows: + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry for your disappointment, with which you seem more touched than + I should expect a man of your resolution and experience to have been, did + I not know that general truths are seldom applied to particular occasions; + and that the fallacy of our selflove extends itself as wide as our + interests or affections. Every man believes that mistresses are unfaithful + and patrons capricious; but he excepts his own mistress and his own + patron. We have all learned that greatness is negligent and contemptuous, + and that in Courts life is often languished away in ungratified + expectation; but he that approaches greatness or glitters in a Court, + imagines that destiny has at last exempted him from the common lot.” + </p> + <p> + It is doubtful if this excellent philosophy made the person to whom it was + addressed more amiable to his immediate entourage; nor is it likely that + he was soothed by the assurance that his “patron's weakness or + insensibility will finally do you little hurt, if he is not assisted by + your own passions.” + </p> + <p> + “Of your love,” continued Johnson, “I know not the propriety; we can + estimate the power, but in love, as in every other passion of which hope + is the essence, we ought always to remember the uncertainty of events.” He + then hastens to add that “love and marriage are different states. Those + who are to suffer the evils together, and to suffer often for the sake of + one another, soon lose that tenderness of look, and that benevolence of + mind which arose from the participation of unmingled pleasure and success + in amusement.” + </p> + <p> + The pleasant little cynical bark in the phrase “those that are to suffer + the evils together,” as if it referred to love and marriage, is, Malone + thinks, not Johnson's, but Baretti's. It is suggested that Johnson really + wrote “those that are to suffer the evils <i>of life</i> together,” and + that Baretti in transcribing the letter for Boswell, purposely omitted the + words “<i>of life</i>.” It would be quite like Baretti to do this; for he + would thereby work off part of his spite against Johnson for having given + him the advice, and he would have had his own sneer against “love and + marriage,” the <i>fons et origo</i> of his disappointment. + </p> + <p> + But of Dr. Johnson's esteem for the attainments of Baretti there can be no + doubt. He thought that the book on Italy which he published on his return + to England was very entertaining, adding: “Sir, I know no man who carries + his head higher in conversation than Baretti. There are strong powers in + his mind. He has not, indeed, many hooks; but with what hooks he has he + grapples very forcibly.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> </a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0099.jpg" alt="0099 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0099.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + It may seem rather strange after this that Baretti was never admitted to + the membership of the celebrated club. He was intimate with nearly all the + original members, but the truth remained that he was not what Johnson + called a clubbable man: he had too many hooks, not too few. + </p> + <p> + Such was the man who was brought before Sir John Fielding, the magistrate + at Bow Street, on the morning after the tragedy, charged with murder; and + then it was that he found the value of the friendships which he had formed + in England. The first person to hasten to his side in his extremity was + Oliver Goldsmith, the man whom he had so frequently made the object of his + sarcasm, whose peculiarities he had mimicked, not in the playful manner of + Garrick or Foote, but in his own spiteful style, with the grim humour of + the disappointed man. Goldsmith it was who opened his purse for him and + got a coach for him when he was remanded until the next day, riding by his + side to the place of his incarceration. Goldsmith was by his side when the + question of bail was discussed before Lord Mansfield. For some reason + which does not require any particular explanation, it was not thought that + Goldsmith as a bailsman would appeal irresistibly to the authorities, but + the names of Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Edmund Burke, Mr. David Garrick, and + Mr. H. Fitzherbert were submitted to Lord Mansfield, and immediately + accepted. An amusing anecdote was current regarding the few days of + Baretti's incarceration. One morning he was visited by a teacher of + languages, who begged a trifling favour of him. This was merely a letter + of recommendation to Baretti's pupils, so that the applicant might have a + chance of taking them over “when you are hanged, sir.” The fact that this + sympathetic visitor was allowed to depart without molestation makes people + doubt whether Baretti was so bad-tempered after all. He did not assault + the man. “You rascal!” he cried. “If I were not in my own room, I would + kick you downstairs directly.” + </p> + <p> + The trial was fixed for October 20th at the Old Bailey, and a few days + before this date a number of the prisoner's friends met together to + consult as to the line which should be taken for his defence. It seems + that they were not all agreed on some points; this was only to be + expected, considering what an array of wisdom was brought together upon + the occasion of these consultations, and considering also the course which + was adopted by Dr. Johnson, who thought that the interests of the prisoner + would be advanced by getting up an academical discussion with Burke. + Johnson and Burke were notorious rivals in conversation in those days when + conversation was regarded as an art, and men and women seemed to have + plenty of leisure to talk together for the sake of talking, and to argue + together for the sake of argument, and to be rude to one another for the + sake of wit. Boswell was for ever extolling Johnson at the expense of + Burke; and indeed, so far as one can gather from his pages, Johnson was + the ruder man. + </p> + <p> + The example that Boswell gives of his own readiness in making Goldsmith + “shut up” when he questioned Johnson's superiority to Burke in discussion + is one of the best instances of the little Scotsman's incapacity to + perceive the drift of an argument. “Is he like Burke who winds into a + subject like a serpent?” asked Goldsmith. + </p> + <p> + “But” (said I) “Dr. Johnson is the Hercules that strangled serpents in his + cradle.” + </p> + <p> + This repartee which Boswell gleefully records is about equal to the reply + made by one of the poets who was appealed to in the “Bab Ballads” to say + if he wrote “the lovely cracker mottoes my Elvira pulls at supper.” It + will be remembered that the poet whose name rhymes with “supper” replied: + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="indent10"> + “'A fool is bent upon a twig, but wise men dread a bandit,' + </p> + <p class="indent10"> + Which” (the earnest inquirer said) “I felt was very wise, + </p> + <p class="indent20"> + but I didn't understand it.” + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + It was in regard to this consultation as to the best defence to be made + out for Baretti that Johnson admitted to have opposed Burke simply for the + sake of showing the rest of the company that he could get the better of + Burke in an argument. “Burke and I,” he said, “should have been of one + opinion if we had had no audience.” Such a confession! There was the life + of his friend Baretti trembling in the balance, and yet Johnson, solely + for the sake of “showing off,” opposed the wisdom and ingenuity Burke + exercised to save from the gallows a man whom Johnson professed to admire! + </p> + <p> + But if we are to believe Boswell, Johnson cared very little whether his + friend was hanged or not. As for Boswell himself, he always detested + Baretti, and is reported to have expressed the earnest hope that the man + would be hanged. However, the “consultations” went merrily on, and + doubtless contributed in some measure to a satisfactory solution of the + vexed question as to whether Johnson or Burke was the more brilliant + talker. They formed a tolerably valid excuse for the uncorking of several + bottles, and perhaps these friends of Baretti felt that even though he + should die, yet the exchange of wit in the course of these happy evenings + would live for ever in the memory of those present, so that after all, let + the worst come to the worst, Baretti should have little cause for + complaint. + </p> + <p> + It is reported that the prisoner, upon the occasion of his receiving a + visit from Johnson and Burke, cried: “What need a man fear who holds two + such hands?” It may here be mentioned, however, that although it was + asserted that Johnson and Murphy were responsible for the line of defence + adopted at the trial, yet in after years Baretti was most indignant that + it should be suggested that credit should be given to any one but himself + for his defence; and he ridiculed the notion that Johnson or Burke or + Murphy or even Boswell—himself an aspirant to the profession of law + in which he subsequently displayed a conspicuous lack of distinction—had + anything to do with the instruction either of solicitors or barristers on + his behalf. + </p> + <p> + At any rate, the “consultations” came to an end, and the friends of the + accused awaited the trial with exemplary patience. Mr. Boswell seems + suddenly to have become the most sympathetic of the friends; for three + days before the event he took a journey to Tyburn to witness the hanging + of several men at that place, and though it is known that the spectacle of + a hanging never lost its charm for him, yet it is generous to assume that + upon this occasion he went to Tyburn in order to qualify himself more + fully for sympathising with Baretti, should the defence assigned to him + break down. + </p> + <p> + Another ardent sympathiser was Mr. Thomas Davies the bookseller, a + gentleman whose chief distinction in the eyes of his contemporaries + consisted—if we are to believe one of the wittiest of his associates—in + the fact that he had an exceedingly pretty wife; but whose claim to the + gratitude of coming generations lies in the circumstance of his having + introduced Boswell to Johnson. Tom Davies was terribly cut up at the + thought of the possibility of Baretti's being sentenced to be hanged. + Boswell, on the day before the trial, after telling Johnson how he had + witnessed the executions at Tyburn, and expressing his surprise that none + of the wretches seemed to think anything of the matter, mentioned that + Foote, the actor, had shown him a letter which he had received from Tom + Davies, and in which the writer affirmed that he had not had a wink of + sleep owing to his anxiety in respect of “this sad affair of Baretti,” and + begging Foote to suggest some way by which he could be of service to the + accused, adding that should Mr. Foote be in need of anything in the pickle + line, he could strongly recommend him to an industrious young man who had + lately set up in that business. + </p> + <p> + Strange to say, Johnson was not impressed with this marked evidence of Mr. + Davies' kind heart. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, sir, here you have a specimen of human sympathy,” he cried. “A friend + hanged and a cucumber pickled! We know not whether Baretti or the pickle + man has kept Davies from sleep; nor does he know himself.” + </p> + <p> + This was rather sweeping, but his dictum showed that he was rather a poor + analyser of human emotion. In the minds of the people of to-day who read + of Tom Davies' bad nights there is no manner of doubt whatever that the + sequence of his emotions was to be attributed to his intimacy with the + industrious young pickle maker. Tom had indulged rather too freely in some + of the specimens of his art presented to him by the pickler, and the + result was a melancholy night; and, being melancholy, he was led to think + of the most melancholy incident that had recently come under his notice. + When a man is full of mixed pickles he is liable to get a little mixed, + and so in the morning he attributed his miserable night to his thoughts + about Baretti, instead of knowing that his thoughts about Baretti were the + natural result of his miserable night. If he had been acquainted with an + industrious young onion merchant he might have passed the night in tears. + </p> + <p> + “As for his not sleeping,” said Dr. Johnson, “sir, Tom Davies is a very + great man—Tom has been on the stage, and knows how to do those + things.” + </p> + <p> + Boswell: “I have often blamed myself, sir, for not feeling for others as + sensibly as many say they do.” Johnson: “Sir, don't be duped by them any + more. You will find those very feeling people are not very ready to do you + good. They pay you by feeling.” Mr. Boswell thought that he would do well + to turn his friend from the subject under discussion, so he made the + apparently harmless remark that Foote had a great deal of humour and that + he had a singular talent of exhibiting character. But Johnson had on him + the mood not only of “the rugged Russian bear,” but also of “the armed + rhinoceros and the Hyrcan tiger.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, it is not a talent: it is a vice; it is what others abstain from,” + he growled. + </p> + <p> + “Did not he think of exhibiting you, sir?” inquired the tactful Mr. + Boswell, though he knew all about Foote and Johnson long before. + </p> + <p> + “Sir, fear restrained him,” said Johnson. “He knew I would have broken his + bones. I would have saved him the trouble of cutting off a leg: I would + not have left him a leg to cut off.” + </p> + <p> + This brutal reference to the fact that Foote's recent accident had + compelled him to have a leg amputated should surely have suggested to his + inquisitor that he had probably been paying a visit to an industrious + young pickle maker without Tom Davies' recommendation, or that he had + partaken of too generous a helping of his favourite veal, baked with + plums, and so that he would do well to leave him alone for a while. But + no, Mr. Boswell was not to be denied. + </p> + <p> + “Pray, sir, is not Foote an infidel?” he inquired. But as he himself had + been dining with Foote the previous day, and as he possessed no more + delicacy than a polecat, he could easily have put the question to Foote + himself. + </p> + <p> + But Johnson would not even give the man credit for his infidelity. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know, sir, that the fellow is an infidel,” he said; “but if he + is an infidel, he is an infidel as a dog is an infidel, that is to say, he + has never thought on the subject.” + </p> + <p> + In another second he was talking of Buchanan, a poet, whom he praised, and + of Shakespeare, another poet, whom he condemned, winding up by saying that + there were some very fine things in Dr. Young's <i>Night Thoughts</i>. But + the most remarkable of his deliverances on this rather memorable evening + had reference to Baretti's fate. After declaring that if one of his + friends had just been hanged he would eat his dinner every bit as heartily + as if his friend were still alive.—“Why, there's Baretti, who is to + be tried for his life to-morrow,” he added; “friends have risen up for him + on every side; yet if he should be hanged, none of them will eat a slice + of plum pudding the less.” Happily the accuracy of this tender-hearted + scholar's prediction had no chance of being put to the test. Baretti was + tried and acquitted. + </p> + <p> + Boswell gives only a few lines to an account of the trial, and fails to + mention that the prisoner declined the privilege of being tried by a jury + one half of whom should be foreigners. “It took place,” he said, “at the + awful Sessions House, emphatically called Justice Hall,” and he affirms + that “never did such a constellation of genius enlighten the Old Bailey.” + </p> + <p> + He mentions that Mr. Burke, Mr. Garrick, Mr. Beauclerk, and Dr. Johnson + gave evidence, the last-named being especially impressive, speaking in a + slow, deliberate, and distinct tone of voice. It seems strange that + Boswell, who was (nominally) a lawyer, when he wrote his life of Johnson, + should say nothing whatever respecting the line of defence adopted by the + friends of the prisoner upon this interesting occasion. It might have been + expected that he would dwell lovingly, as a lawyer would certainly be + pardoned for doing, upon the technical points involved in the trial, even + though he hated Baretti. For instance, it would be interesting to learn + why it was thought that the result of the trial might mean the hanging of + Baretti, when from the first it was perfectly plain that he had acted in + self-defence: not merely was he protecting his purse, he had actually to + fight for his life against an acknowledged ruffian of the most + contemptible type. In the present day if a short-sighted man of letters—say + Mr. Augustine Birrell—were to be attacked in a dark street by three + notorious scoundrels and to manage to kill one of them by poking the + ferrule end of an umbrella into his eye, no one—not even a + Conservative Attorney-General—would fancy that a grand jury at the + New Old Bailey would return a true bill against him for the act, putting + aside all question of his being found guilty and sentenced to be hanged. + And yet in Baretti's time swords were commonly worn, and they were by no + means toy weapons. Why should poor Tom Davies have a sleepless night, + owing (as he believed) to his apprehension that his friend would be hanged + in a day or two? Why was it necessary to dazzle the “awful Sessions House” + by such “a constellation of genius” as had never before assembled in that + “Hall of Justice”? + </p> + <p> + Mr. Boswell might certainly have told us something of the actual scene in + the court, when he has devoted so much space to the ridiculous dialogues + between himself and Johnson, having more or less bearing upon the case. + The course he adopted is like laying a dinner-table with four knives and + forks and five wineglasses for every guest—in having a constellation + of genii in plush behind every chair, and then serving a dinner of hashed + mutton only. A great number of people believe that whatever Boswell may + have been, he was invariably accurate. But in this case he does not even + give a true account of the constellation of genius to which he refers. He + only says that Burke, Garrick, Beauclerk, and Johnson were called as + witnesses. He omits to say a word about Goldsmith, who was something of a + genius; or Reynolds, who was quite a tolerable painter; or Fitzherbert, + who had a wide reputation as a politician; or Dr. Halifax, whose evidence + carried certainly as much weight as Johnson's. He does not even say a word + respecting the evidence which Johnson and the others were called on to + give on behalf of the prisoner at the bar. What is the good of telling us + that the constellation of genius had never been paralleled within the + precincts of the “emphatically called Justice Hall” if we are not made + aware of some of the flashes of their genius when they were put into the + witness-box? + </p> + <p> + The truth is that Boswell had no sense of proportion any more than a sense + of the sublime and beautiful—or, for that matter, a sense of the + ridiculous. He was the Needy Knife Grinder—with an occasional axe of + his own—of the brilliant circle into which he crawled, holding on to + Johnson's skirts and half concealing himself beneath their capacious + flaps. He had constant stories suggested to him, but he failed to see + their possibilities. He was a knife grinder and nothing more; but at his + own trade he was admirable; he ground away patiently at his trivialities + respecting the man whom he never was within leagues of understanding, and + it is scarcely fair to reproach him for not throwing away his grindstone, + which he knew how to use, and taking to that of a diamond cutter, which he + was incapable of manipulating. But surely he might have told us something + more of the actual trial of Baretti instead of giving us page after page + leading up to the trial. + </p> + <p> + From other sources we learn that what all the geniuses were called on to + testify to was the pacific character of Baretti, and this they were all + able to do in an emphatic manner. It would seem that it was assumed that + the prisoner, a short-sighted, middle-aged man of letters, was possessed + of all the dangerous qualities of a bloodthirsty brigand of his own + country—that he was a fierce and ungovernable desperado, who was in + the habit of prowling about the purlieus of the Haymarket to do to death + with a fruit-knife the peaceful citizens whom he might encounter. He was a + foreigner, and he had killed an Englishman with an outlandish weapon. That + seems to have been the reason there was for the apprehension, which was + very general in respect of the fate of Baretti, for it was upon these + points that his witnesses were most carefully examined. + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith, Reynolds, and Garrick were very useful witnesses regarding the + knife. They affirmed that in carrying a fruit-knife the prisoner was in no + way departing from the recognised custom of his fellow-countrymen. He, in + common with them, was in the habit of eating a great deal of fruit, so + that the knife was a necessity with him. + </p> + <p> + Johnson's evidence was as follows: + </p> + <p> + “I have known Mr. Baretti a long time. He is a man of literature—a + very studious man—a man of great intelligence. He gets his living by + study. I have no reason to think he was ever disordered with liquor in his + life. A man that I have never known to be otherwise than peaceable and a + man that I take to be rather timorous. As to his eyesight, he does not see + me now, nor do I see him. I do not believe he would be capable of + assaulting anybody in the street without great provocation.” + </p> + <p> + It cannot be denied that the reference to Baretti's imperfect sight told + upon the jury, and uttered as the words were by Johnson in his dignified + way, they could scarcely fail to produce a profound effect upon the court. + </p> + <p> + Baretti was acquitted, and no one could presume to refer to him for the + rest of his life except as a quiet, inoffensive, frugivorous gentleman, + since these were the qualities with which he was endowed by a + constellation of geniuses on their oath. He was acquitted by the jury; but + the judge thought it well to say a few words to him before allowing him to + leave the dock, and the drift of his discourse amounted to a severe + censure upon his impetuosity, and the expression of a hope that the + inconvenience to which he was put upon this occasion would act as a + warning to him in future. + </p> + <p> + Really one could hardly imagine that in those days, when every week Mr. + Boswell had a chance of going to such an entertainment at Tyburn as he had + attended forty-eight hours before the opening of the Sessions, the taking + of the life of a human being was regarded with such horror. One cannot + help recalling the remark made by Walpole a few years later, that, owing + to the severity of the laws, England had been turned into one vast + shambles; nor can one quite forget the particulars of the case which was + quoted as having an intimate bearing upon this contention—the case + in which a young wife whose husband had been impressed to serve in His + Majesty's Fleet, and who had consequently been left without any means of + support, had stolen a piece of bread to feed her starving children, and + had been hanged at Tyburn for the crime. + </p> + <p> + Reading the judge's censure of Baretti, who had, in preventing a + contemptible ruffian from killing him, decreased by a unit the criminality + of London, the only conclusion that one can come to is that the courts of + law were very jealous of their precious prerogative to kill. Looking at + the matter in this light, the bombastic phrase of Boswell does not seem so + ridiculous after all; the Old Bailey had certainly good reason to be + regarded as the “awful Sessions House.” But we are not so fully convinced + that it had any right to be referred to as emphatically the Hall of + Justice. In the Georgian Pageant the common hangman played too conspicuous + a part. + </p> + <p> + But the unfortunate, if impetuous, Baretti left the court a free man, and + we cannot doubt that in the company of his friends who had stood by him in + his hour of trial he was a good deal harder upon the judge than the judge + had been upon him; and probably he was reproved in a grave and dignified + manner by Dr. Johnson, Sir Joshua Reynolds standing by with his ear + trumpet, fearful lest a single word of Johnson's wisdom should escape him. + Doubtless Mr. Garrick, the moment Johnson's back was turned, gave an + inimitable imitation of both Johnson and Baretti—perhaps of the + judge as well, and most likely the usher of the court. + </p> + <p> + Later on, when the avaricious Reynolds had hastened back to his studio in + Leicester Fields to daub on canvas the figures of some of his sitters at + the extortionate price of thirty-five guineas for a three-quarter length, + he and Johnson put their heads together to devise what could be done for + Baretti. + </p> + <p> + For about a year Baretti resumed his old way of living, working for the + booksellers and completing his volume of travel through Europe, by which + it is said he made £500. It would appear, however, that all his pupils had + transferred themselves to the enterprising gentleman who had appealed to + him at an inopportune moment for his recommendation, or to some of his + other brethren, for by the end of the year he was in needy circumstances. + Meantime he had been made by Sir Joshua Reynolds Honorary Secretary for + Foreign Correspondence to the Royal Academy, and then Johnson recommended + him to the husband of Mrs. Thrale as tutor to her girls at Streatham. This + was very kind to Baretti, but it was rather hard on the Thrales. + Apparently from the first day he went to Streatham his attitude in regard + to the Thrale family was one of spite and malevolence; and there can be no + doubt that Johnson bitterly regretted his patronage of a man who seemed + never to forgive any one who had done him a good turn. + </p> + <p> + The agreement made by him with the Thrales was that he should practically + be his own master, only residing at Streatham as a member of the family + with no fixed salary. He was as artful as an Irish cabman in suggesting + this “leave it to your honour” contract. He had heard on all hands of the + liberality of Mr. Thrale, and he knew that, in addition to being provided + with a luxurious home, he would receive presents from him far in excess of + what he could earn. He was extremely well treated for the next three + years, though he was for ever grumbling when he had a moment's leisure + from insulting the Thrales and their guests. Mrs. Thrale said more in his + favour than any one with whom he came in contact. She wrote: “His lofty + consciousness of his own superiority which made him tenacious of every + position, and drew him into a thousand distresses, did not, I must own, + ever disgust me, till he began to exercise it against myself, and resolve + to reign in our house by fairly defying the mistress of it. Pride, + however, though shocking enough, is never despicable; but vanity, which he + possessed too, in an eminent degree, will sometimes make a man near sixty + ridiculous.” + </p> + <p> + Assuredly Mrs. Thrale “let him down” very gently. Dr. Thomas Campbell, a + clergyman from Ireland, gives us a glimpse of Baretti's bearing at + Streatham. It is clear that Baretti was anxious to impress him with the + nature of his position in the house. “He told me he had several families + both in town and country with whom he could go at any time and spend a + month; he is at this time on these terms at Mr. Thrale's, and he knows how + to keep his ground. Talking, as we were at tea, of the magnitude of the + beer vessels, he said there was one thing at Mr. Thrale's house still more + extraordinary—his wife. She gulped the pill very prettily. So much + for Baretti!” wrote the clergyman in a very illuminating account of his + visit to Streatham. + </p> + <p> + But not only did Mrs. Thrale bear with this detestable person for nearly + two more years, but she and her husband took him with them and Johnson to + Paris, where they lived in a magnificent way, the Thrales paying for + everything. It was in a letter to Frank Levet, his domestic apothecary, + that Johnson, writing from Paris, said: “I ran a race in the rain this + day, and beat Baretti. Baretti is a fine fellow.” This is Johnson on + Baretti. Here is Baretti on Johnson; on a copy of the <i>Piozzi Letters</i> + he wrote: “Johnson was often fond of saying silly things in strong terms, + and the silly madam”—meaning Mrs. Thrale—“never failed to echo + that beastly kind of wit.” + </p> + <p> + It was not, however, until an Italian tour, projected by Mr. Thrale, was + postponed, that Baretti became quite unendurable. He had been presented by + Mr. Thrale with £100 within a few months, and on the abandonment of the + longer tour he received another £100 by way of compensation for the + satisfaction he had been compelled to forgo in showing his countrymen the + position to which he had attained in England. This was another act of + generosity which he could not forgive. He became sullen and more + cantankerous than ever, and neglected his duties in an intolerable way. In + fact, he treated Streatham as if it were an hotel, turning up to give Miss + Thrale a lesson at the most inconvenient hours, and then devoting the most + of his time to poisoning the girl's mind against her mother. Upon one + occasion he expressed the hope to her that if her mother died Mr. Thrale + would marry Miss Whitbred, who would, he said, be a pretty companion for + her, not tyrannical and overbearing as he affirmed her own mother was! + Truly a nice remark for a young lady's tutor to make to her under her + mother's roof. + </p> + <p> + The fact was, however—we have Baretti's own confession for it—that + he had been led to believe that after being with the Thrales for a year or + two, an annuity would be settled on him by the wealthy brewer, and he grew + impatient at his services to the family not obtaining recognition in this + way. It is extremely unlikely that Johnson ever even so much as hinted at + this annuity, though Baretti says his expectations were due to what + Johnson had told him; but it is certain that he had so exalted an opinion + of himself, he believed that after a year or two of desultory teaching he + should receive a handsome pension. And there the old story of the + car-driver who left the nomination of the fare to “his honour's honour” + was repeated. Baretti one morning packed up his bag and left Streatham + without a word of farewell. + </p> + <p> + Johnson's account of his departure and his comments thereupon are worth + notice. He wrote to Boswell: + </p> + <p> + “Baretti went away from Thrales in some whimsical fit of disgust or + ill-nature without taking any leave. It is well if he finds in any other + place as good an habitation and as many conveniences.” + </p> + <p> + On the whole it is likely that a good many of Baretti's friends felt + rather sorry than otherwise that the jury at the Old Bailey had taken so + merciful a view of his accident. If Johnson and Murphy were really + responsible for the line of defence which prevailed at the trial, one can + quite believe that the Thrales and a good many of their associates bore + them a secret grudge for their pains. + </p> + <p> + In the year 1782 he was granted by the Government the pension which he had + failed to extort from the Thrales. It amounted to £80 per annum, and we + may take it for granted that he had nothing but the most copious abuse for + the Prime Minister who had only given him £80 when Sheridan was receiving + £200 and Johnson £300. He drew his pension for seven years. + </p> + <p> + Baretti's portrait, painted by Reynolds for the Streatham gallery, fetched + £31 10s., the smallest price of any in the whole collection, on its + dispersal, years after the principal actors in the scene in the “awful + Sessions House” had gone to another world. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE FATAL GIFT + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HEN Mr. Boswell + had been snubbed, and very soundly snubbed too, by a Duchess, one might + fancy that his ambition was fully satisfied. But he was possibly the most + persevering of the order of <i>Pachydermata</i> at that time extant; and + in the matter of snubs he had the appetite of a leviathan. He was fired + with the desire to be snubbed once more by Her Grace—and he was. + Without waiting to catch her eye, he raised his glass and, bowing in her + direction, said: + </p> + <p> + “My Lady Duchess, I have the honour to drink Your Grace's good health.” + </p> + <p> + The Duchess did not allow her conversation with Dr. Johnson to be + interrupted by so flagrant a piece of politeness; she continued chatting + quite pleasantly to the great man, ignoring the little one. That was how + she had got on in life; and, indeed, a better epitome of the whole art of + getting on in life could scarcely be compiled even by the cynical nobleman + who wrote letters to his son instructing him in this and other forms of + progress—including the Rake's. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Boswell, who, as usual, is the pitiless narrator of the incident, + records his satisfaction at having attained to the distinction of a snub + from the beautiful creature at whose table he was sitting, and we are, as + usual, deeply indebted to him for giving us an illuminating glimpse of the + Duchess of whom at one time all England and the greater part of Ireland + were talking. He also mentions that Her Grace made use of an idiom by + which her Irish upbringing revealed itself. If we had not Mr. Boswell's + account of his visit to Inveraray to refer to we might be tempted to + believe that Horace Walpole deviated into accuracy when he attributed to + the Duchess of Argyll, as well as her sister, the Countess of Coventry, + the brogue of a bog-trotter. It was only by her employment of an idiom + common to the south and west of Ireland and a few other parts of the + kingdom, that Her Grace made him know that she had not been educated in + England, or for that matter in Scotland, where doubtless Mr. Boswell + fondly believed the purest English in the world was spoken. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> </a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0121.jpg" alt="0121 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0121.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + Mr. Boswell faithfully records—sometimes with glee and occasionally + with pride—many snubs which he received in the course of a lifetime + of great pertinacity, and some that he omitted to note, his contemporaries + were obliging enough to record; but on none did he reflect with more + satisfaction than that, or those, which he suffered in the presence of the + Duchess of Argyll. + </p> + <p> + It happened during that memorable tour to the Hebrides to which he lured + Johnson in order to show his countrymen how great was his intimacy with + the man who traduced them once in his Dictionary and daily in his life. It + was like Boswell to expect that he would impress the Scottish nation by + leading Johnson to view their fine prospects—he certainly was never + foolish enough to hope to impress Johnson by introducing the Scottish + nation to him. In due time, however, the exploiter and the exploited found + themselves in the neighbourhood of Inveraray, the Duke of Argyll's Castle, + and the stronghold of the Clan Campbell. + </p> + <p> + It chanced that the head of the great family was in residence at this + time, and Mr. Boswell hastened to apprise him of the fact that the great + Dr. Johnson was at hand. He called at the Castle very artfully shortly + after the dinner hour, when he believed the Duchess and her daughter would + have retired to a drawing-room. He was successful in finding the Duke + still at the dinner-table, the ladies having retired. In the course of the + interview the Duke said: “Mr. Boswell, won't you have some tea?” and Mr. + Boswell, feeling sure that the Duchess could not go very far in insulting + him when other people were present, followed his host into the + drawing-room. “The Duke,” he records, “announced my name, but the Duchess, + who was sitting with her daughter, Lady Betty Hamilton, and some other + ladies, took not the least notice of me. I should,” he continues, “have + been mortified at being thus coldly received by a lady of whom I, with the + rest of the world, have always entertained a very high admiration, had I + not been consoled by the obliging attention of the Duke.” + </p> + <p> + The Duke was, indeed, obliging enough to invite Johnson to dinner the next + day, and Mr. Boswell was included in the invitation. (So it is that the + nursery governess gets invited to the table in the great house to which + she is asked to bring the pretty children in her charge.) Of course, + Boswell belonged to a good family, and his father was a judge. It was to a + Duke of Argyll—not the one who was now so obliging—that the + Laird of Auchinleck brought his son, James Boswell, to be examined in + order to find out whether he should be put into the army or some other + profession. Still, he would never have been invited to Inveraray at this + time or any other unless he had had charge of Johnson. No one was better + aware of this fact than Boswell; but did he therefore decline the + invitation? Not he. Mr. Boswell saw an opportunity ahead of him. He had + more than once heard Johnson give an account of how he had behaved when + the King came upon him in the Royal Library; and probably he had felt + melancholy at the reflection that he himself had had no part or lot in the + incident. It was all Dr. Johnson and the King. But now he was quick to + perceive that when, in after years, people should speak with bated breath + of Dr. Johnson's visit to Inveraray they would be compelled to say: “And + Mr. Boswell, the son of auld Auchinleck, was there too.” + </p> + <p> + He knew very well that there were good reasons why Mr. Boswell could not + hope to be a <i>persona grata</i> to the Duchess of Argyll. In the great + Douglas lawsuit the issue of which was of considerable importance to the + Duke of Hamilton, the son of Her Grace, the Boswells were on the side of + the opposition, and had been very active on this side into the bargain. + James Boswell himself narrowly escaped being committed for contempt of + court for publishing a novel founded on the Douglas cause and anticipating + in an impudent way the finding of the judges. Had the difference been + directly with the Duke of Argyll some years earlier, no doubt every man in + the Clan Campbell would have sharpened his skene when it became known that + a friend of an opponent of the MacCallein More was coming, and have + awaited his approach with complacency; but now the great chief tossed + Boswell his invitation when he was asking Johnson, and Boswell jumped at + it as a terrier jumps for a biscuit, and he accompanied his friend to the + Castle. + </p> + <p> + The picture which he paints of his second snubbing is done in his best + manner. “I was in fine spirits,” he wrote, “and though sensible that I had + the misfortune of not being in favour with the Duchess, I was not in the + least disconcerted, and offered Her Grace some of the dish which was + before me.” Later on he drank Her Grace's health, although, he adds, “I + knew it was the rule of modern high life not to drink to anybody.” Thus he + achieved the snub he sought; but he acknowledges that he thought the + Duchess rather too severe when she said: “I know nothing of Mr. Boswell.” + On reflection, however, he received “that kind of consolation which a man + would feel who is strangled by a silken cord.” + </p> + <p> + It seems strange that no great painter has been inspired by the theme and + the scene. The days of “subject pictures” are, we are frequently told, + gone by. This may be so, generally speaking, but every one knows that a + “subject picture,” if its “subject” lends itself in any measure to the + advertising of an article of commerce, will find a ready purchaser, so + fine a perception of the aspirations of art—practical art—exists + in England, and even in Scotland, in the present day. + </p> + <p> + Now, are not the elements of success apparent to any one of imagination in + this picture of the party sitting round the table in the great hall of + Inveraray—Dr. Johnson chatting to the beautiful Duchess and her + daughter at one side, the Duke looking uncomfortable at the other, when he + sees Mr. Boswell on his feet with his glass in his hand bowing toward Her + Grace? No doubt Her Grace had acquainted His Grace with the attitude she + meant to assume in regard to Mi. Boswell, so that he was not astonished—only + uncomfortable—when Mr. Boswell fished for his snub. Surely + arrangements could be made between the art patron and the artist to paint + a name and a certain brand upon the bottle—a bottle must, of course, + be on the table; but if this is thought too realistic the name could + easily be put on the decanter—from which Mr. Boswell has just + replenished his glass! Why, the figure of Dr. Johnson alone should make + the picture a success—i.e. susceptible of being reproduced as an + effective poster in four printings. “Sir,” said Dr. Johnson, “claret for + boys, port for men, but brandy for heroes.” Yes, but whose brandy? There + is a hint for a great modern art patron—a twentieth-century art + patron is a man who loves art for what he can make out of it. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Johnson was unmistakably the honoured guest this day at Inveraray; and + perhaps, while the lovely Duchess hung upon his words of wisdom, his + memory may have gone back to a day when he was not so well known, and yet + by some accident found himself in a room with the then Duchess of Argyll. + Upon that occasion he had thought it due to himself to be rude to the + great lady, in response to some fancied remissness on her part. He had + nothing to complain of now. The Duchess with whom he was conversing on + terms of perfect equality—if Her Grace made any distinction between + them it was, we may rest assured, only in a way that would be flattering + to his learning—was at the head of the peerage for beauty, and there + was no woman in the kingdom more honoured than she had been. He may have + been among the crowds who hung about the Mall in St. James's Park + twenty-two years before, waiting patiently until the two lovely Miss + Gunnings should come forth from their house in Westminster to take the + air. The Duchess of Argyll was the younger of the two sisters. + </p> + <p> + The story of the capture of the town by the pair of young Irish girls has + been frequently told, and never without the word <i>romantic</i> being + applied to it. But really there was very little that can be called + romantic in the story of their success. There is far more of this element + in many of the marriages affecting the peerage in these unromantic days. + There is real romance in the story of a young duke's crossing the Atlantic + with a single introduction, but that to the daughter of a millionaire with + whom he falls madly in love and whom he marries as soon as the lawyers can + make out the settlements. There is real romance in the idyll of the young + marquis who is fortunate enough to win the affection of an ordinary chorus + girl; and every year witnesses such-like alliances—they used to be + called <i>mésalliances</i> long ago. There have also been instances of the + daughters of English tradesmen marrying foreign nobles, whom they + sometimes divorce as satisfactorily as if they were the daughters of + wealthy swindlers on the other side of the Atlantic. In such cases there + are portraits and paragraphs in some of the newspapers, and then people + forget that anything unusual has happened. As a matter of fact, nothing + unusual has happened. + </p> + <p> + In the romantic story of the Gunnings we have no elements of that romance + which takes the form of a <i>mésalliance</i>. Two girls, the + granddaughters of one viscount and the nieces of another, came to London + with their parents one year, and early the next married peers—the + elder an earl, the younger a duke. Like thousands of other girls, they had + no money; but, unlike hundreds of other girls who marry into the peerage, + they were exceptionally good-looking. + </p> + <p> + Where is there an element of romance in all this? The girls wedded men in + their own station in life, and, considering their good looks, they should + have done very much better for themselves. The duke was a wretched <i>roué</i>, + notable for his excesses even in the days when excess was not usually + regarded as noteworthy. He had ruined his constitution before he was + twenty, and he remained enfeebled until, in a year or two, he made her a + widow. The earl was a conceited, ill-mannered prig—a solemn, + contentious, and self-opinionated person who was deservedly disliked in + the town as well as the country. + </p> + <p> + Not a very brilliant marriage either of these. With the modern chorus girl + the earl is on his knees at one side, and the gas man on the other. But + with the Miss Gunnings it was either one peer or another. They were + connected on their mother's side with at least two families of nobility, + and on their father's side with the spiritual aristocracy of some + generations back: they were collateral descendants of the great Peter + Gunning, Chancellor of Oxford and Bishop of Ely, and he was able to trace + his lineage back to the time of Henry VIII. From a brother of this great + man was directly descended the father of the two girls and also Sir Robert + Gunning, Baronet, who held such a high post in the diplomatic service as + Minister Plenipotentiary to Berlin, and afterwards to St. Petersburg. + Members of such families might marry into the highest order of the peerage + without the alliance being criticised as “romantic.” The girls did not do + particularly well for themselves. They were by birth entitled to the best, + and by beauty to the best of the best. As it was, the one only became the + wife of a contemptible duke, the other of a ridiculous earl. It may really + be said that they threw themselves away. + </p> + <p> + Of course, it was Walpole's gossip that is accountable for much of the + false impression which prevailed in respect of the Gunnings. From the + first he did his best to disparage them. He wrote to Mann that they were + penniless, and “scarce gentlewomen.” He could not ignore the fact that + their mother was the Honourable Bridget Gunning; but, without knowing + anything of the matter, he undertook to write about the “inferior tap” on + their father's side. In every letter that he wrote at this time he tried + to throw ridicule upon them, alluding to them as if they were nothing + better than the barefooted colleens of an Irish mountain-side who had come + to London to seek their fortunes. As usual, he made all his letters + interesting to his correspondents by introducing the latest stories + respecting them; he may not have invented all of these, but some + undoubtedly bear the Strawberry Hill mark, and we know that Walpole never + suppressed a good tale simply because it possessed no grain of truth. + </p> + <p> + Now, the true story of the Gunnings can be ascertained without any + reference to Walpole's correspondence. Both girls were born in England—the + elder, Maria, in 1731, the younger in 1732. When they were still young + their father, a member of the English Bar, inherited his brother's Irish + property. It had once been described as a “tidy estate,” but it was now in + a condition of great untidiness. In this respect it did not differ + materially from the great majority of estates in Ireland. Ever since the + last “settlement” the country had been in a most unsettled condition, and + no part of it was worse than the County Roscommon, where Castle Coote, the + residence of the Gunning family, was situated. It might perhaps be going + too far to say that the wilds of Connaught were as bad as the wilds of + Yorkshire at the same date, but from all the information that can be + gathered on the subject there does not seem to have been very much to + choose between Roscommon and the wilder parts of Yorkshire. The peasantry + were little better than savages; the gentry were little worse. Few of the + elements of civilized life were to be found among the inhabitants. The + nominal owners of the land were content to receive tribute from their + tenantry in the form of the necessaries of life, for money as a standard + of exchange was rarely available. Even in the present day in many + districts in the west of Ireland cattle occupy the same place in the + imagination of the inhabitants as they do in Zululand. The Irish bride is + bargained away with so many cows; and for a man to say—as one did in + the very county of Roscommon the other day—that he never could see + the difference of two cows between one girl and another, may be reckoned + somewhat cynical, but it certainly is intelligible. + </p> + <p> + But if rent was owing—and it usually was—and if it was not + paid in the form of geese, or eggs, or pork, or some other products of low + farming and laziness, it remained unpaid; for the landlord had no means of + enforcing his claims by any law except the law of the jungle. He might + muster his followers and plunder his debtors, and no doubt this system of + rent-collecting prevailed for several years after one of the many + “settlements” of the country had taken place, yet by intermarriage with + the natives, and a general assimilation to their condition of life by the + newcomers, these raids for rent became unpopular and impracticable. The + consequence was that the landlords—such as remained on their estates—were + living from hand to mouth. + </p> + <p> + But if the fact that the King's writ failed to run in these parts was of + disadvantage to the landlords in one respect, it was of no inconsiderable + advantage to them in another; for it enabled them with a light heart to + contract debts in Dublin and in the chief towns. They knew that the + rascally process server, should he have the hardihood to make any attempt + to present them with the usual summons, would do so at the risk of his + life; and a knowledge of this fact made the “gentry” at once reckless and + lawless. The consequence was that Ireland was regarded as no place for a + man with any respect for his neighbours or for himself to live in. It + became the country of the agent and the squireen. + </p> + <p> + It was to one of the worst parts of this country that John Gunning brought + his wife and four children—the eldest was eight years and the + youngest three months—and here he tried to support them off the + “estate.” He might possibly have succeeded if his aspirations had been + humble and his property unencumbered. It so happened, however, that his + father had been the parent of sixteen children, and the estate was still + charged with the maintenance of ten of these. Thus hampered, Mr. Gunning + and the Honourable Bridget Gunning were compelled to adopt the mode of + life of the other gentry who were too poor to live out of Ireland, and + they allowed the education of their family to become a minor consideration + to that of feeding them. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Gunning and his wife were undoubtedly the originals of the type of + Irish lady and gentleman to be found in so many novels and plays of the + latter part of the eighteenth and the first half of the nineteenth + centuries. He was the original “heavy father” who, with the addition of a + ridiculous nondescript brogue, was so effectively dealt with by numerous + writers until Thackeray took him in hand; and Mrs. Gunning was the first + of the tradition of Irish mothers with daughters to dispose of by the aid + of grand manners and a great deal of contriving. True to this tradition, + which originated with them, the lady was certainly the head of the + household—a sorry household it must have been at Castle Coote—during + the ten years that elapsed before the migration to England. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Gunning was a fine figure of a gentleman, a handsome, loquacious + person with a great sense of his own dignity and an everlasting + consciousness of the necessity to maintain it at something approximate to + its proper level, and, like other persons of the same stamp, never + particularly successful in the means employed to effect this object. It is + doubtful if a loud conversational style, with repeated references to the + brilliant past of his family and predictions as to the still more + brilliant future that would have been achieved by its representative but + for the outrageous fortune that flung him into the bogs of Roscommon, + produced a more vivid impression upon his associates in Ireland than it + would be likely to do among a more credulous community. In Ireland he + resembled the young gentleman who went to educate the French, but was + discouraged at the outset when he found that even the children in the + streets spoke better French than he did. Mr. Gunning could teach the Irish + squireens nothing in the way of boasting; and he soon found that they were + capable of giving him some valuable instruction as to the acquiring of + creditors and their subsequent evasion. Whatever their educational + deficiencies may have been, it must be admitted that they had mastered + these arts. Much as he despised his ancestral home, he found, after + repeated visits to Dublin, that his heart was, after all, in Castle Coote, + and that, for avoiding arrest for debt, there was no place like home. + </p> + <p> + The Honourable Mrs. Gunning must have become dreadfully tired of this + florid person and of the constant worry incidental to the control of such + a household as his must have been. Her life must have been spent + contriving how the recurrent crises could be averted, and so long as she + was content to remain in the seclusion of the Irish village her efforts + were successful. We do not hear that the bailiffs ever got so far as the + hall door of their ramshackle mansion; there was a bog very handy, and the + holes which served as a rudimentary system of natural drainage were both + deep and dark. The topography of the district was notoriously puzzling to + the officers from the Dublin courts. + </p> + <p> + But with all her success in this direction one maybe pretty sure that her + life must have been very burthensome to the Honourable Mrs. Gunning. She + had social ambitions, as befitted a daughter of a noble house, and on this + account she never allowed herself to sink to the level of the wives of the + squireens around her, who were quite content with the rude jollity of an + Irish household—with the “lashings and leavings” to eat, and with + the use of tumblers instead of wineglasses at table. She was the daughter + of a peer, and she never forgot this fact; and here it must be mentioned + that, however culpably she may have neglected the education of her + children in some respects, she took care that they avoided the provincial + brogue of their Irish neighbours. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps it was because Walpole knew nothing of the tradition of the + English settlers in Ireland that he referred in his letters to various + correspondents to the appalling brogue of both the Gunning girls; or + perhaps he, as usual, aimed only at making his correspondence more amusing + by this device. But every one who knows something of the “settlements” is + aware of the fact that the new-comers had such a contempt for the native + way of pronouncing English that they were most strenuous in their efforts + to hand down to their children the tradition of pronunciation which they + brought into the country. They were not always so successful as they + wished to be; but within our own times the aspiration after a pure + “English accent” is so great that even in the National Schools the + teachers, the larger number of whom bear Celtic names, have been most + industrious both in getting rid of their native brogue and in compelling + their pupils to do the same; and yet it is certain that people have been + much more tolerant in this respect in Ireland during the past half-century + than they were a hundred years earlier. + </p> + <p> + Of course, a scientific analysis of the pronunciation of the English + language by, say, a native of the wilds of Yorkshire and by a native of + the wilds of Connemara would reveal the fact that fewer corruptions of the + speech are habitual to the latter than to the former, the “brogue” being + far less corrupt than the “burr.” It was not enough for the settlers, + however, that their children should speak English in Ireland more + correctly than their forefathers did in England; they insisted on the + maintenance of the English tradition of pronunciation, erroneous though it + might be. So that the suggestion that the daughters of the Gunning family, + who had never heard English spoken with the brogue of the native Irish + until they were eight or nine years of age, spoke the tongue of the stage + Irish peasant would seem quite ridiculous to any one who had given even + the smallest amount of study to the conditions of speech prevailing in + Ireland even in the present tolerant age, when employment is not denied to + any one speaking with the broadest of brogues. Some years ago such an + applicant would have had no chance of a “billet”—unless, in a + literal sense, to hew, with the alternative of the drawing of water. + </p> + <p> + The truth, then, is that the Gunning girls had practically neither more + nor less of that form of education to be acquired from the study of books + or “lessons” than the average young woman of their own day who had been + “neglected.” Between the years 1750 and 1800 there were in England + hundreds of young ladies who were as highly educated as a junior-grade + lady clerk in the Post Office Department is to-day; but there were also + thousands who were as illiterate as the Gunnings without any one thinking + that it mattered much one way or another. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0007" id="linkimage-0007"> </a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0139.jpg" alt="0139 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0139.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + And it really did not matter much that Maria Gunning spelt as vaguely as + did Shakespere, or Shakspere, or Shakespeare, or Shakspear, or whatever he + chose to write himself at the moment. Correctness of orthography is + absolutely necessary for any young lady who wishes to be a success in the + Postal Department, but Miss Gunning possessed some qualifications of + infinitely greater importance in the estimation of the world. She was of + good family and she was beautiful exceedingly. Moreover, she possessed the + supreme grace of naturalness—the supreme grace and that which + includes all other graces, which, like butterflies, hover over womankind, + but seldom descend in a bevy upon any one of the race. She was as natural + as a lily flower, and for the same reason. To be natural il came to her by + Nature, and that was how she won the admiration of more people than the + beauty of Helen of Troy brought to their death. She was not wise. But had + she been wise she would never have left Ireland. She would have known that + obscurity is the best friend that any young woman so beautiful as she was + could have. She would have remained in Roscommon, and she would have been + one of those women who are happy because they have no story. But, of + course, had she been wise she would not have been natural, and so there + her beauty goes by the board in a moment. + </p> + <p> + The Honourable Mrs. Gunning could not have been startled when the + knowledge came to her that she was the mother of two girls of exceptional + beauty. The same knowledge comes to every mother of two girls in the + world, though this knowledge is sometimes withheld from the rest of the + world; but even then the mother's faith is not shaken—except in + regard to the eyesight of the rest of the world. Doubtless Mrs. Gunning + thought much better of Ireland when she found that her judgment on the + beauty of her daughters was shared by all the people who saw the girls. + From the daily exclamation of wonder—the exaggerated expressions of + appreciation uttered by a fervent peasantry—when the girls were seen + in their own kitchen or on the roadside, the mother's ambition must have + received a fresh stimulus. And given an ambitious mother, whose life has + been one of contriving to do things that seem out of her power to + accomplish, the achievement of her object is only a matter of time—provided + that the father does not become an obstruction. Mrs. Gunning was not + extravagant in her longings. Her Delectable Mountains were those which + surround the City of Dublin. Her social ambitions did not extend beyond + “The Castle.” + </p> + <p> + When the eldest of her three daughters was scarcely nineteen the + aggregation of savings and credit—the latter predominant—seemed + sufficient to justify the expedition. A house was taken in a fashionable + street, close to the most splendid Mall in Europe, and furnished by some + credulous tradesmen, and the social campaign was begun by a parade of the + two girls and their mother. Alas! the young beauties attracted only too + much attention. The inquiries as to their style and title were + unfortunately not limited. In Dublin for generations the tradespeople have + been accustomed to take an intelligent and quite intelligible interest in + the aristocracy and beauty dwelling in their midst; and it took only a few + days for the report to go round that the exquisite young ladies were the + daughters of Mr. John Gunning, of Castle Coote. + </p> + <p> + This information meant much more to some of the least desirable of the + inquirers than it did to the wealthy and well connected of the population; + and among the least desirable of all were some tradesmen who for years had + had decrees waiting to be executed against Mr. Gunning at a more + convenient place for such services than Castle Coote. The result was that + within a week the beauty of his daughters had made such a stir in Dublin + that bailiffs were in the house and Mr. Gunning was out of it. + </p> + <p> + It is at this point in the history that the Troubadour unslings his lute, + feeling the potentialities of Romance in the air; and, given the + potentialities of Romance and the wandering minstrel, one may be sure that + the atmosphere will resound with Romance. We are told on such high + authority as is regarded quite satisfactory (by the Troubadour), that the + weeping of the mother and the beautiful girls under the coarse stare of + the bailiffs attracted the attention of a charming and sympathetic young + actress who was taking the air in the street, and that, as might only be + expected, she hastened to enter the house to offer consolation to those + who were in trouble—this being unquestionably the mission which is + most congenial to the spirit of the <i>soubrette</i>. On being at once + informed of all by the communicative mother—the Troubadour is not + such a fool as to lay down his lute to inquire if it was likely that a + lady who possessed her full share of Irish pride would open her heart to a + stranger and an actress—the young visitor showed her sympathy by + laying herself open to prosecution and imprisonment through helping in a + scheme to make away with all the valuables she could lay her hands on. But + she went still further, and invited the young ladies to stay at her house + so long as it suited them to do so. + </p> + <p> + We are told that this young actress was George Ann Bellamy, but the + information comes from no better source than George Ann Bellamy herself, + and the statements of this young person, made when she was no longer young + or reputable, do not carry conviction to all hearers. Romance, however, + like youth, will not be denied, though the accuracy of an actress may, and + people have always been pleased to believe that Miss Bellamy and Mr. + Thomas Sheridan, the much-harassed lessee of the Smock Alley Theatre in + Dublin, were the means of obtaining for the Honourable Mrs. Gunning and + her daughters the invitation to the ball at the Castle which resulted in + the recognition of the girls' beauty by the great world of fashion. The + suggestion that their aunt, Miss Bourke, or their uncle, Viscount Mayo, + might have been quite as potent a factor in solving the problem of how the + invitation to a ball given by the Viceroy to the people of Dublin came + into the hands of the Miss Gunnings, may, however, be worth a moment's + consideration. + </p> + <p> + At any rate, the success made by the girls upon this occasion was + immediate. Before a day had passed all Dublin and Dublin Castle were + talking of their beauty, and the splendid Mall was crowded with people + anxious to catch a glimpse of the lovely pair when they took their walks + abroad. Lady Caroline Petersham, the charming lady whose name figures + frequently in Walpole's correspondence—it will be remembered that + she was one of that delightful little supper party at Ranelagh which he + describes—was in the entourage of the Viceroy, and quickly perceived + the possibilities of social prestige accruing to the hostess who might be + the means of introducing them to St. James's. There a new face meant a new + sensation lasting sometimes well into a second month, and Lady Caroline + had her ambitions as a hostess. + </p> + <p> + She was the Gunnings' best friend—assuming that social advancement + is an act of friendship—and it may safely be assumed that she was + mainly responsible for the extension of the area of the campaign entered + on by Mrs. Gunning, and that it was her influence which obtained for them + the passage to Chester in the Lord Lieutenant's yacht, and a bonus of £150 + charged, as so many other jobs were, “upon the Irish Establishment.” The + “Irish Establishment” was the convenient Treasury out of which money could + be paid without the chance of unpleasant questions being asked in + Parliament respecting such disbursements. + </p> + <p> + Of course, it is not to be believed that such success as the young girls + encompassed in Dublin was reached without a word or two of detraction + being heard in regard to their behaviour. Mrs. Delany, amiable as a moral + gossip, or perhaps, a gossipy moralist, wrote to her sister respecting + them: “All that you have heard of the Gunnings is true, except their + having a fortune, but I am afraid they have a greater want than that, + which is discretion.” No doubt Mrs. Delany had heard certain whispers of + the girlish fun in which the elder of the sisters delighted; but there has + never been the smallest suggestion that her want of discreetness ever + approached an actual indiscretion. It may be assumed, without doing an + injustice to either of the girls, that their standard of demeanour was not + quite so elevated as that which the wife of Dean Delany was disposed to + regard as essential to be reached by any young woman hoping to be thought + well of by her pastors and masters. But the steelyard measure was never + meant to be applied to a high-spirited young girl who has grown up among + bogs and then finds herself the centre of the most distinguished circle in + the land, every person in which is eagerly striving for the distinction of + a word from her lips. Maria Gunning may not have had much discretion, but + she had enough to serve her turn. She arrived in London with her sister, + and no suggestion was ever made—even by Walpole—that their + mother had not taken enough care of them. + </p> + <p> + In London they at once found their place in the centre of the most + fashionable—the most notorious—set; but while we hear of the + many indiscreet things that were done by certain of their associates, + nothing worse is attributed to either of the girls than an Irish brogue or + an Irish idiom—perhaps a word or two that sounded unmusical to + fastidious ears. Walpole began by ridiculing them, and, as has already + been noted, sneering at their birth; but when he found they were becoming + the greatest social success that his long day had known, he thought it + prudent to trim his sails and refer to them more reasonably: they were + acquiring too many friends for it to be discreet for him to continue + inventing gossip respecting them. + </p> + <p> + But what a triumph they achieved in town! Nothing had ever been known like + it in England, nor has anything approaching to it been known during the + century and a half that has elapsed since the beauty of these two girls + captured London. The opening of Parliament by the King in State never + attracted such crowds as thronged the Park when they walked in the Mall. + Never before had the guards to turn out at the Palace to disperse the + crowds who mobbed two young ladies who did not belong—except in a + distant way—to a Royal House. Upon one occasion the young Lord + Clermont and his friend were compelled to draw their swords to protect + them from the exuberant attentions of the crowd. “'Tis a warm day,” wrote + George Selwyn to Lord Carlisle, “and some one proposes a stroll to Betty's + fruit shop; suddenly the cry is raised, 'The Gunnings are coming,' and we + all tumble out to gaze and to criticise.” + </p> + <p> + “The famous beauties are more talked of than the change in the Ministry,” + wrote Walpole. “They make more noise than any one of their predecessors + since Helen of Troy; a crowd follows them wherever they walk, and at + Vauxhall they were driven away.” + </p> + <p> + This mobbing must have caused the girls much delightful inconvenience, and + one can see their mother acting the part—and overdoing it, after the + manner of her kind—of the distracted parent whose daughters have + just been restored to her arms. One can hear the grandiloquent thanks of + the father to the eligible young man with titles whose bravery has + protected his offspring—that would have been his word—from the + violence of the mob. The parents must have been very trying to the young + men in those days. But the mother showed herself to be rather more than a + match for one young man who hoped to win great fame as a jocular fellow by + playing a trick upon the family. Having heard of the simplicity and + credulousness of the girls, this gentleman, with another of his kind, + asked leave of Mrs. Gunning to bring to her house a certain duke who was + one of the greatest <i>partis</i> of the day. On her complying, he hired a + common man, and, dressing him splendidly, conveyed him in a coach to the + Gunnings' house and presented him to the family as the duke. But the man + knew as little of the matter as did Walpole; he assumed that she was + nothing more than the adventurous wife of an Irish squireen. He soon found + out that he had made a mistake. Mrs. Gunning rang the bell, and ordered + the footman to turn the visitors out of the house. But the family were + soon consoled for this incident of the impostor duke by the arrival of a + real one, to say nothing of another consolation prize in the form of an + earl. In the meantime, however, their popularity-had been increasing + rather than diminishing. As a matter of fact, although beauty may be + reproached for being only skin deep, it is very tenacious of life. A + reputation for beauty is perhaps the most enduring of all forms of + notoriety. The renown that attaches to the man who has painted a great + picture, or to one who has made a great scientific discovery, or to one + who has been an eminent churchman or a distinguished statesman, is, in + point of popularity and longevity, quite insignificant in comparison with + that which is associated with the name of a very beautiful woman. The + crowds still surrounded the Miss Gunnings, and the visit which they paid + by command to King George II gave them a position in the world of fashion + that was consolidated by the report of the charming <i>naivete</i> of the + reply made by Maria when the King inquired if they had seen all the sights + of London and if there was any in particular which they would like to be + shown. “Oh, I should dearly like to see a coronation!” the girl is said to + have cried. And as that was just the sight for which the people of England + were most eager, she was acclaimed as their mouthpiece. + </p> + <p> + So they progressed in the career that had been laid out for them. Duels + were fought about them, and bets were made about them and their future. + For nearly a year there was no topic of the first order save only the + Progress of Beauty. The Duke had come boldly forward. He was a double duke—his + titles were Hamilton and Brandon—and he had sounded such depths of + depravity that he was possibly sincere in his desire to convince the world + that his taste in one direction had not become depraved. Elizabeth Gunning + may have accepted his service from a hope of being the means of reforming + him. But even if she were not to succeed in doing so, her mother would + have reminded her that her failure would not make her the less a duchess. + It is open, however, for one to believe that this girl cared something for + the man and was anxious to amend his life. + </p> + <p> + Then we hear of her being with him at Lord Chesterfield's ball given at + the opening of his new mansion, her fancy dress being that of a Quakeress. + Three days later the world in which they lived awoke to learn the + astounding news that the Duke of Hamilton and Brandon had married + Elizabeth Gunning the previous night. + </p> + <p> + Here was romance beyond a precedent; and Walpole romanced about it as + usual. In his account of the nuptials he succeeds in making more + misstatements than one would believe it possible even for such a worker in + the art to encompass in half a dozen lines. “When her mother and sister + were at Bedford House,” he wrote to Mann, “a sudden ardour, either of wine + or love, seized upon him (the Duke); a parson was promptly sent for, but + on arriving, refused to officiate without the important essentials of + licence or ring. The Duke swore and talked of calling in the Archbishop. + Finally the parson's scruples gave way, the licence was overlooked, and + the lack of the traditional gold ring was supplied by the ring of a bed + curtain!” + </p> + <p> + This is very amusing, but it is not history. It is a clumsy fiction, + unworthy of the resources of the inventor. Sir Horace Mann must have felt + that his friend had a poor opinion of his intelligence if he meant him to + accept the assurance that the household of the Gunnings and the fingers of + His Grace were incapable of yielding to the fastidious parson a better + substitute for the traditional gold ring than the thing he introduced. The + facts of the incident were quite romantic enough without the need for + Walpole's embellishments. It was Valentine's Day, and what more likely + than that the suggestion should be made by the ardent lover that so + appropriate a date for a wedding would not come round for another year! To + suggest difficulties—impossibility—would only be to spur him + on to show that he was a true lover. However this may be, it has long ago + been proved that the midnight marriage took place in due form at the + Curzon Street Chapel in the presence of several witnesses. + </p> + <p> + And then Walpole went on to say that the wedding of Lord Coventry and the + elder sister took place at the same time. It so happened, however, that a + fortnight elapsed between the two ceremonies, and in the case of the + second, the ceremony took place in the full light of day. + </p> + <p> + The subsequent history of the two ladies is not without a note of + melancholy. The elder, pursued to the end by the malevolent slanders of + the man with the leer of the satyr perpetually on his face, died of + consumption after eight years of wedded life. The younger became a widow + two years earlier, and after being wooed by the Duke of Bridgewater, whom + she refused, sending him to his canal for consolation, married Colonel + Campbell, who in 1770 became the Fifth Duke of Argyll. Six years later she + was created a peeress in her own right, her title being Baroness Hamilton + of Hameldon in Leicestershire. In 1778 she was appointed Mistress of the + Robes. She attained to the additional distinction of making the good Queen + jealous, so that Her Majesty upon one occasion overlooked her in favour of + Lady Egremont. The Duchess at once resigned, and only with difficulty was + persuaded to withdraw her resignation. She died in 1790. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE FÊTE-CHAMPÊTRE + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>O one knows to-day + with whom the idea of having an English <i>fête-champêtre</i> at The Oaks + upon the occasion of the marriage of the young Lord Stanley to Lady Betty + Hamilton originated. The secret was well kept; and it can be easily + understood that in case of this innovation proving a fiasco, no one would + show any particular desire to accept the responsibility of having started + the idea. But turning out as it did, a great success, it might have been + expected that many notable persons would lay claim to be regarded as its + parents. A considerable number of distinguished people had something to do + with it, and any one of them had certainly sufficient imagination, backed + up by an acquaintance with some of the exquisite pieces of MM. Watteau and + Fragonard, to suggest the possibility of perfecting such an enterprise + even in an English June. It was the most diligent letter-writer of that + age of letter-writing who had referred to the “summer setting in with its + customary severity,” so that the trifling of the month of June with the + assumption of the poets who have rhymed of its sunshine with rapture, was + not an experience that was reserved for the century that followed. But in + spite of this, the idea of a <i>fête-champêtre</i>, after the most + approved French traditions, in an English demesne found favour in the eyes + of Lord Stanley and his advisers, and the latter were determined that, + whatever price might have to be paid for it, they would not run the chance + of being blamed for carrying it out in a niggardly spirit. + </p> + <p> + The young Lord Stanley had as many advisers as any young nobleman with a + large immediate allowance and prospects of a splendid inheritance may hope + to secure. There was his <i>fiancée's</i> mother, now the Duchess of + Argyll, who was never disposed to frown down an undertaking that would + place a member of one of her families in the forefront of the battle of + the beauties for the most desirable <i>parti</i> of the year. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0008" id="linkimage-0008"> </a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0155.jpg" alt="0155 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0155.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + The Duchess had both taste and imagination, so that people called her an + Irishwoman, although she was born in England. Then there was Mr. George + Selwyn, who said witty things occasionally and never missed a hanging. He + was fully qualified to prompt a wealthy companion as to the best means to + become notorious for a day. There was also young Mr. Conway, the gentleman + who originated the diverting spectacle when Mrs. Baddeley and Mrs. + Abington were escorted to the Pantheon. Any one of these, to say nothing + of Lady Betty herself, who had some love for display, might have been + inclined to trust an English June so far as to believe an <i>al fresco</i> + entertainment on a splendid scale quite possible. + </p> + <p> + On the whole, however, one is inclined to believe that it was Colonel + Burgoyne who was responsible for the whole scheme at The Oaks. In addition + to having become Lord Stanley's uncle by running away with his father's + sister, he was a budding dramatist, and as such must have perceived his + opportunity for exploiting himself at the expense of some one else—the + dream of every budding dramatist. There is every likelihood that it was + this highly accomplished and successful “gentleman-adventurer” who brought + Lord Stanley up to the point of embarking upon his design for an + entertainment such as had never been seen in England before—an + entertainment that should include the production of a masque devised by + Colonel Burgoyne and entitled <i>The Maid of The Oaks</i>. The fête came + off, and it was pronounced the most brilliant success of the year 1774. + </p> + <p> + Lord Stanley was a very interesting young man; that is to say, he was a + young man in whom no inconsiderable number of persons—mainly of the + opposite sex—were greatly interested. Of this fact he seems to have + been fully aware. A good many people—mainly of the opposite sex—felt + very strongly on the subject of his marrying: it was quite time that he + married, they said. His grandfather, the Earl of Derby, was eighty-four + years of age, and it would be absurd to believe that he could live much + longer. Lord Stanley being his heir, it was agreed that it was the young + man's duty not to procrastinate in the matter of marriage. It is always + understood that a patriarchal nobleman sings “<i>Nunc dimittis</i>” when + he holds in his arms the second in direct succession to the title, and + this happy consummation could, in the case of the aged Lord Derby, only be + realised by the marriage of Lord Stanley. + </p> + <p> + He was small in stature, and extremely plain of countenance; still this + did not prevent his name from being coupled with that of several notable—but + not too notable—young women of his acquaintance. But as it was well + known that he was greatly interested in the stage, it was thought that, + perhaps, he might not be so complaisant as his best friends hoped to find + him in regard to marrying. An ardent interest in the progress of the + drama, especially in its lighter forms, has been known to turn a young + man's attention from marriage, when it does not do what is far worse—turn + his attention to it with too great zest. Before long, however, it became + apparent that his lordship recognised in what direction his duty lay. + There was a young lady connected with the Ducal House of Bedford—a + niece of that old Duchess who played so conspicuous a part in the social + and political history of the middle of the eighteenth century—and to + her Lord Stanley became devoted. But just when every one assumed that the + matter was settled, no one thinking it possible that the young lady would + be mad enough to refuse such a <i>parti</i>, the news came that she had + done so; and before people had done discussing how very eccentric were the + Bedford connections, the announcement was made that Lord Stanley was to + marry Lady Betty Hamilton, the beautiful daughter of a beautiful mother, + the Duchess of Argyll. + </p> + <p> + There is in existence a letter written by the Duchess to Sir William + Hamilton, in which she hints that Lord Stanley was an old suitor for the + hand of her daughter. “Lady Betty might have taken the name of Stanley + long ago if she had chose it,” she wrote, adding: “A very sincere + attachment on his side has at last produced the same on hers.” This being + so, it would perhaps be unsafe to assume that Lord Stanley proposed to + Lady Betty out of pique at having been rejected by the other lady, though + one might be disposed to take this view of the engagement. + </p> + <p> + The alternative view is that Lady Betty had been advised by her + accomplished mother that if she played her cards well there was no reason + why she should not so attract Lord Stanley as to lead him to be a suitor + for her hand, and that the girl at last came to see that the idea was + worth her consideration. Her portrait, painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds in + the year of her marriage, shows her to have been a graceful, girlish young + creature; but her beauty could never have been comparable with that of her + mother at the same age, or with that of her aunt, Lady Coventry, whom it + is certain she closely resembled in character. Her mother, in her letter + to Sir William Hamilton, apologises in a way for her liveliness, assuring + him that such a disposition was not incompatible with serious thought upon + occasions; and this gives us a hint that the reputation for vivacity which + she always enjoyed was closely akin to that which made the life of Lady + Coventry so very serious. + </p> + <p> + This was the young lady in whose honour the first English <i>fête + champêtre</i> was organised. To be more exact, or to get more into touch + with the view of the Derby family, perhaps one should say that the <i>fête</i> + was set on foot in consideration of the honour the young lady was doing + herself in becoming a member of the great house of Stanley. Different + people look at a question of honour from different standpoints. Probably + Colonel Burgoyne, although a member of the Derby family by marriage, left + honour out of the question altogether, and only thought of his masque + being produced at his nephew's expense. + </p> + <p> + And produced the masque was, and on a scale as expensive as the most + ambitious author could desire. It was described, with comments, by all the + great letter-writers of the time. Walpole has his leer and his sneer at + its expense (literally). It was to cost no less than £5000, he said, and + he ventured to suppose that in order to account for this enormous outlay + Lord Stanley had bought up all the orange trees near London—no + particular extravagance one would fancy—and that the hay-cocks would + be of straw-coloured riband. George Selwyn thought it far from diverting. + The Dowager Lady Gower affirmed that “all the world was there,” only she + makes an exception of her relations the Bedfords—she called them + “the Bloomsbury lot”—and said that the Duchess would not let any of + them go because Her Grace thought that Lord Stanley should have taken his + recent rejection by Her Grace's niece more to heart. Lady Betty's + stepfather, the Duke of Argyll, said that the whole day was so long and + fatiguing that only Lady Betty could have stood it all. + </p> + <p> + But did Lady Betty stand it all? It was rumoured in the best-informed + circles that she had broken off the match the next day; and when one + becomes acquainted with the programme of the day's doings one cannot but + acknowledge that the rumour was plausible. She probably made an attempt in + this direction; but on her fiancé's promising never to repeat the offence, + withdrew her resolution. + </p> + <p> + The famous brothers Adam, whose genius was equally ready to build an + Adelphi or to design a fanlight, had been commissioned to plan an + entertainment on the most approved French models and to carry it out on + the noblest scale, taking care, of course, that the central idea should be + the masque of <i>The Maid of The Oaks</i>, and these large-minded artists + accepted the order without demur. The pseudo-classical feeling entered, + largely through the influence of the Adams, into every form of art at this + period, though the famous brothers cannot be accused of originating the + movement. Sir Joshua Reynolds painted his most charming ladies in the + costume of Greeks, and Angelica Kauffmann depicted many of her early + English episodes with the personages clad in togas which seemed greatly + beyond their control. But for that matter every battle piece up to the + date of Benjamin West's “Death of Wolfe” showed the combatants in + classical armour; and Dr. Johnson was more than usually loud in his + protests against the suggestion that a sculptor should put his statues of + modern men into modern clothing. + </p> + <p> + But the Adams were wise enough to refrain from issuing any order as to the + costume to be worn by the shepherds and shepherdesses who were to roam the + mead at The Oaks, Epsom, upon the occasion of this <i>fête champêtre</i>; + and they were also wise enough to distrust the constancy of an English + June. The result was (1) a charming medley of costume, though the + pseudo-pastoral peasants, farmers, gardeners, and shepherds were in the + majority, and (2) the most interesting part of the entertainments took + place indoors, the octagonal hall lending itself nobly—when improved + by Messrs. Adam—to the show. The “transparencies” which constituted + so important a part of the ordinary birthday celebrations of the time, + took the form of painted windows, and, later, of a device showing two of + the conventional torches of Hymen in full blaze, supporting a shield with + the Oak of the Hamiltons' crest and the usual “gules.” + </p> + <p> + This design occupied the place of the “set piece” which winds up a modern + display of fireworks and sets the band playing “God save the King.” It + could not have been brought on until the morning sunlight was flooding the + landscape outside; for supper was not served until half-past eleven, and + the company had to witness the representation of an intolerably long + masque—the second of the day—after supper, with a procession + of Druids, fauns, cupids, and nymphs, all in suitable, but it is to be + hoped not traditional, costume. + </p> + <p> + The entertainment began quite early in the afternoon, when there was a + long procession of shepherds and shepherdesses through the lanes to where + a pastoral play was produced and syllabub drunk under the trees. But this + was only an <i>hors d'ouvre</i>; it was not Colonel Burgoyne's + masterpiece. This was not produced in the open air. Only when further + refreshments had been served and evening was closing in did the guests, + who had been sauntering through the sylvan scenes, repair to the great + hall, which they found superbly decorated and, in fact, remodelled, for + colonnades after the type of those in the pictures of Claude had been + built around the great ballroom, the shafts being festooned with roses, + and the drapery of crimson satin with heavy gold fringes. There were not + enough windows to make excuses for so much drapery, but this was no + insuperable obstacle to the artful designers; they so disposed of the + material as to make it appear that it was the legitimate hanging for six + windows. + </p> + <p> + For the procession through the colonnades the young host changed his + costume and his fiancée changed hers. He had appeared as Rubens and she as + Rubens' wife, from the well-known picture. But now she was dressed as + Iphigenia. They led the first minuet before supper, and it was thought + that they looked very fine. No one who has seen the two pictures of the + scene, for which Zucchi was commissioned, can question this judgment. Lady + Betty's portrait in one of these panels makes her even more beautiful than + she appears on Sir Joshua's canvas. + </p> + <p> + With a display of fireworks of a detonating and discomposing type—the + explosion, it was said, affected the nerves of nearly all the guests—and + the illumination of the “transparency” already alluded to, this memorable + fête came to no premature conclusion. Every one was bored to death by so + much festivity coming all at once. The idea of twelve hours of masques and + minuets is enough to make one's blood run cold. Its realisation may have + had this effect upon the heroine of the day, hence the rumour that she + found she had had enough of the Derby family to last her for the rest of + her life without marrying the young heir. Unfortunately, however, if this + was the case, she failed to justify the accuracy of the report; and she + was married to Lord Stanley on the 23rd of the same month. + </p> + <p> + The union of Maria Gunning with the Earl of Coventry was a miserable one, + but this of her niece and Lord Stanley was infinitely worse. Lady Betty + soon found out that she had made a mistake in marrying a man so incapable + of appreciating her charm of manner as was Lord Stanley. The likelihood is + that if she had married any other man she would have made the same + discovery. The vivacity for which her mother apologised to Sir William + Hamilton was, after her marriage, much more apparent than the + thoughtfulness which the Duchess assured her correspondent was one of her + daughter's traits. She showed herself to be appallingly vivacious upon + more than one occasion. Just at that time there was a vivacious “set” in + Lady Betty's world, and every member of it seemed striving for leadership. + Few of the ladies knew exactly where the border line lay between vivacity + and indiscretion. If Lady Betty was one of the better informed on this + delicate question of delimitation, all that can be said is that she + overstepped the line upon several occasions. It is not to be thought that + her lightness ever bordered into actual vice, but it rarely fell short of + being indiscreet. + </p> + <p> + She was always being talked about—always having curious escapades, + none of them quite compromising, but all calculated to make the judicious + grieve. But it is one thing to be subjected to the censure of the + judicious and quite another to come before a judicial authority, and it is + pretty certain that if Lady Derby—her husband succeeded to the title + two years after his marriage—had incriminated herself, she would + have been forced to defend a divorce suit. + </p> + <p> + It is, however, likewise certain that for some time she kept hovering like + a butterfly about the portals of the Court, and a good deal of the bloom + was blown off her wings by the breath of rumour. She had accepted the + devotion of the Duke of Dorset, and, considering the number of eyes that + were upon her and the devotion of His Grace, this was a very dangerous + thing to do. They were constantly seen together and at all hours. This was + in the second year of her marriage, but even in the first her desire to + achieve notoriety by some means made itself apparent. But her escapade + that was most talked about was really not worthy of the gossip of a Gower. + She was at a ball at the house of Mrs. Onslow in St. James's Square, and + her chair not arriving in good time to take her back to Grosvenor Square, + it was suggested by Lord Lindsay and Mr. Storer that they should borrow + Mrs. Onslow's chair and carry her between them to her home. She agreed to + this gallant proposal, and off they set together. The young men bore her + to her very door in spite of the fact that they had met her own chair soon + after they had left Mrs. Onslow's porch. + </p> + <p> + There was surely not much of an escapade in this transaction. The truth + was probably that the chair did not arrive owing to the condition of the + bearers, and when the young gentlemen met it they refused to jeopardise + the safety of the lady by transferring her from Mrs. Onslow's chair to her + own. + </p> + <p> + Rumour, however, was only too anxious to put the worst construction upon + every act of the merry Countess, and it was doubtless because of this, and + of her own knowledge of her daughter's thoughtlessness, that the Duchess + of Argyll appeared upon the scene and endeavoured by her presence and + advice to avert the catastrophe that seemed imminent. The Duchess insisted + on accompanying her to every entertainment, and succeeded in keeping a + watchful eye on her, though the Duke, who was at Inveraray, and was + doubtless tired of hearing of the vivacity of his stepdaughter, wrote + rather peremptorily for Her Grace to return to Scotland. She did not obey + the summons, the fact being that she was devoted to this daughter of hers, + who must have daily reminded her of her own sister Maria, to whom she had + been so deeply attached. * + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * It was said that she had refused the offer of the Duke of + Bridgewater, because of his suggestion that she should break + off all intercourse with Lady Coventry. +</pre> + <p> + Seeing, however, that she could not continue to look after this lively + young matron, and being well aware of the fact that Lord Derby would never + consent to live with her again, the Duchess could do no more than condone + the separation which was inevitable. The deed was drawn up in 1779, five + years after Lady Betty had been so inauspiciously bored by the <i>fête + champêtre</i>. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0009" id="linkimage-0009"> </a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0171.jpg" alt="0171 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0171.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + In the meantime there was a good deal of talk about the Earl of Derby + himself. A young nobleman who takes a lively, or even a grave, interest in + the personnel of the theatre is occasionally made the subject of vulgar + gossip. Lord Derby had a reputation as an amateur actor, and he seemed to + think that it would be increased by association with professional + actresses. It is doubtful if he was justified in his views on this + delicate question. At any rate, rightly or wrongly, on his estrangement + from his wife, but two years before the final separation, he showed a + greater devotion than ever to dramatic performances and dramatic + performers. His uncle by marriage, now General Burgoyne, had written a + play that turned out an extraordinary success. This was <i>The Heiress</i>, + and it had received extravagant praise in many influential quarters. It + was while it was still being talked of in society that a company of + distinguished amateurs undertook to produce it at Richmond House, in + Whitehall Place. In order that the representation might be as perfect as + possible, the Duchess of Richmond engaged the actress who had taken the + chief part in the original production, to superintend the rehearsals of + her amateurs. Miss Farren was a young person of considerable beauty, and + more even than an actress's share of discretion. She was in George + Colman's company at the Haymarket, and was rapidly taking the place of + Mrs. Abington in the affections of playgoers. She was the daughter of a + surgeon in a small way—he may have been one of the barber surgeons + of the eighteenth century. Marrying an actress (also in a small way), he + adopted the stage as a profession, and became a strolling actor-manager, + whenever he got the chance, and died before his drinking habits had quite + demoralised his family. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Farren was a wise woman—wise enough to know that she was a bad + actress, but that there were possibilities in her two daughters. It was + after only a brief season of probation that Colman engaged one of the + girls to do small parts, promoting her in an emergency to be a + “principal.” Miss Farren proved herself capable of making the most of her + opportunity, and the result was that within a year she was taking Mrs. + Abington's parts in the best comedies. + </p> + <p> + Her mother was sensible enough to perceive that there was room in the best + society for an actress of ability as well as respectability—up to + that time the two qualities had seldom been found associated—and + Mrs. Farren was right. No whisper had ever been heard against the young + lady, and a judicious introduction or two brought her into many + drawing-rooms of those leaders of society who were also respectable, and + this was of advantage to her not only socially, but professionally. Horace + Walpole was able to write of her: “In distinction of manner and refinement + she excelled Mrs. Abington, who could never go beyond Lady Teazle, which + is a second-rate character.” Again, in a letter to Lady Ossory, he + ascribed the ability of Miss Farren to the fact that she was accustomed to + mingle with the best society. + </p> + <p> + This theory of Walpole's has been frequently controverted since his day, + and now no one will venture to assert that there is really anything in it, + although it sounds plausible enough. Miss Farren had, however, ample + opportunity of studying “the real thing” and of profiting by her study. + She found herself on the most intimate footing with duchesses—not of + the baser sort like her of Ancaster, or of the eccentric sort like her of + Bedford, but of the most exalted. The Duchess of Richmond and the Duchess + of Leinster were among her friends, and thus it was that her appearance at + the rehearsals of <i>The Heiress</i> of Whitehall Place was not wholly + professional. Upon this occasion she met Lord Derby and also Charles James + Fox, the latter having accepted the rather onerous duties of stage + manager. Before any of the performers were letter perfect in their + dialogue, Miss Farren had captured the hearts of both these men. Having + some of the qualities necessary to success as a statesman, including + caution and an instinct as to the right moment to retire from a contest + that must end in some one being made a fool of, Mr. Fox soon withdrew from + a position of rivalry with Lord Derby. It was rumoured by the malicious, + who had at heart the maintenance of the good name of Miss Farren, that Mr. + Fox had been dismissed by the lady with great indignation on his making a + proposition to her that did not quite meet her views in regard to the + ceremony of marriage. Miss Farren they asserted to be a paragon of virtue, + and so she undoubtedly was. Her virtue was of the most ostentatious type. + She would never admit a gentleman to an audience unless some witness of + her virtue was present. She accepted the devotion of Lord Derby, but gave + him to understand quite plainly that so long as his wife was alive she + could only agree to be his <i>fiancée</i>. Truly a very dragon of virtue + was Miss Farren! + </p> + <p> + The Earl, previous to his meeting the actress, had been a dutiful if not a + very devoted husband. But as soon as he fell in love with this paragon of + virtue he became careless, and made no attempt to restrain his wife in her + thoughtless behaviour. He allowed her to go her own way, and he went his + way. His way led him almost every evening to the green room at the + Haymarket and Drury Lane, where Miss Farren was to be found. The + estrangement between himself and his wife that resulted in the final + separation was the result not of his infatuation for the actress, but of + her virtuous acceptance of him as her moral lover. She took care never to + compromise herself with him or any one else, but she did not mind taking + the man away from his wife and home in order that she might be accredited + with occupying an absolutely unique position in the annals of the English + stage. + </p> + <p> + If Miss Farren had been a little less virtuous and a little more human she + would run a better chance of obtaining the sympathy of such people as are + capable of differentiating between a woman's virtue and the virtues of + womankind. She seemed to think that the sole duty of a woman is to be + discreet in regard to herself—to give no one a chance of pointings + finger of scorn at her; and it really seemed as if this was also the creed + of the noble people with whom she associated. Every one seemed to be so + paralysed by her propriety as to be incapable of perceiving how + contemptible a part she was playing. An honest woman, with the instincts + of goodness and with some sense of her duty, would, the moment a married + man offers her his devotion, send him pretty quickly about his business. + The most elementary sense of duty must suggest the adoption of such a + course of treatment in regard to an illicit admirer. But Miss Farren had + no such sense. She met the philandering of her lover with smiles and a + virtuous handshake. She accepted his offer of an adoring friendship for + the present with a reversion of the position of Countess of Derby on the + death of the existing holder of the title and its appurtenances; and + people held her up, and continue to hold her up, as an example of all that + is virtuous and amiable in life! + </p> + <p> + She was also commended for her patience, as Lord Derby was for his + constancy. They had both great need of these qualities, for the unhappy + barrier to their union showed no signs of getting out of their way, either + by death or divorce. She became strangely discreet, taking, in fact, a + leaf out of Miss Farren's book of deportment, and never giving her husband + a chance of freeing himself from the tie that bound him nominally to her. + It must have been very gratifying to the actress to perceive how effective + was the example she set to the Countess in regard to the adherence to the + path of rectitude. + </p> + <p> + What was the exact impression produced upon Lord Derby by all this decorum + it would be difficult to say. He may have been pleased to discover that he + was married to a lady to whom his honour was more precious than he had any + reason or any right to believe it to be. But assuredly a less placid + gentleman would have found himself wishing now and again that—well, + that matters had arranged themselves differently. + </p> + <p> + The years went by without bringing about a more satisfactory <i>modus + vivendi</i> than was in existence when Lord Derby originally offered his + heart and hand (the latter when it should become vacant) to the actress. + Lady Derby was in wretched health, but still showed no more inclination to + die than does a chronic invalid. Miss Farren continued to drive her + splendid chariot, with its coachmen on the hammer-cloth and its footmen + clinging on to the straps behind, down to the stage-door of the theatre, + and to fill the house every night that she played. Her popularity seemed + to grow with years, and she appeared in a wide range of characters, making + her audiences accept as correct her reading of every part, though the best + critics—Walpole was about the worst—of her art had a good deal + to say that was not quite favourable to her style. Only once, however, did + she make a flagrant error on the stage, and this was when she was + misguided enough to put on men's garments in representing the part of + Tracy Lovell in Colman's play, <i>The Suicide</i>. + </p> + <p> + By this unhappy exhibition which she made of herself she disillusioned + those of her admirers who fancied that she was a model of grace from the + sole of her feet to the crown of her head. She never repeated this + performance. Had she done so in Lord Derby's presence, his constancy would + have been put to a severer test than any to which he had been previously + subjected. The best judges of what constitutes grace in a woman were + unanimous in their advice to the lady never to forsake the friendly + habiliments which she was accustomed to wear, and never to allow her + emulation of the perpetually chaste goddess to lead her to adopt even for + an hour the convenient garb in which she went a-hunting. + </p> + <p> + And while his fiancée was moving from triumph to triumph, putting every + other actress in the shade, the Earl of Derby was putting on flesh. But as + his flesh became more visible so did his faith. He was a model of + fidelity. His name was never associated with the name of any other lady—not + even that of his wife—during his long years of probation, and twenty + years form a rather protracted period for a man to wait in order to marry + an actress. It was not to be wondered if the spectacle of the devoted + young peer waiting for the beautiful girl in the green room, which was + allowed to the habitués of that fascinating apartment during the earlier + years of this strange attachment, produced quite a different effect upon + people from that which was the result of witnessing a somewhat obese, + elderly gentleman panting along by the side of a chaste lady of forty. Nor + was it remarkable that, on seeing one day by the side of Miss Farren, a + gallant young man whose walk and bearing suggested to elderly spectators a + rejuvenated Lord Stanley, they should rub their eyes and ask what miracle + was this that time and true love had wrought. + </p> + <p> + The only miracle that time had wrought was to make the son of the Earl of + Derby twenty-one years of age and rather interested in the personnel of + green rooms. He had been introduced to Miss Farren by his father; but to + his honour be it said, he made no attempt to take his father's place in + regard to the lady, except as her escort to her house in Green Street. The + gossip that suggested such a possibility was just what one might expect to + find in one of Walpole's letters. + </p> + <p> + At last the shameful, if virtuous, devotion of twenty years was rewarded + by the announcement of the death of the wretched Countess whose desertion + dated from the day her husband met the actress. Miss Farren, with that + extraordinary bad taste which characterised every period of her intimacy + with Lord Derby, took an ostentatious farewell of the stage, and proved by + the faltering of her voice, her emotion, and her final outburst in tears, + that time had not diminished from the arts of her art. Of course, there + was a scene of intense emotion in the theatre, which was increased when + King led her forward and Wroughton spoke a rhymed and stagey farewell in + her presence. Four of its lines were these: + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + But ah! this night adieu the joyous mien, + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + When Mirth's lov'd fav'rite quits the mimic scene, + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + Startled Thalia would th'assent refuse, + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + But Truth and Virtue sued and won the Muse. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + Truth and Virtue—these were the patrons of the compact by which Miss + Farren waited for twenty years for the death of the wife of the man whom + she had promised to marry—when she could. + </p> + <p> + The scene in the green room when the actress came off the stage was an + unqualified success. Tears flowed freely, making channels as they + meandered down the paint; sobs came from the actresses who hoped to get a + chance of doing some of her parts now that she had left the stage; and + Miss Farren herself showed that she knew what were the elements of a + proper climax, by fainting with a shriek, in the midst of which she made + an exit supported by all the actors who were not already supporting some + of the hysterical ladies in the background. They all deserved to have + their salaries raised. The whole scene was a triumph—of art. + </p> + <p> + The exact chronology of the crisis is worth noting. Lady Derby died on + March 4th, and was buried on April 2nd. On April 8th Miss Farren took her + farewell of the stage, and on May 1st she was married to the Earl of + Derby. A satisfactory explanation of the indecent delay in the celebration + of the marriage was forthcoming: his lordship had been suffering from an + attack of gout. + </p> + <p> + But if no one ventured to cast an aspersion upon his character or to + accuse him of shilly-shallying in regard to the postponement of his + nuptials until his wife had been nearly a whole month in her grave, there + was a good deal of funny gossip set loose when, after a honeymoon of two + days, the Earl and the Countess returned to London. This also was + satisfactorily explained: the Countess was devoted to her mother! + </p> + <p> + The marriage proved a very happy one, and thirty-two years passed before + the Countess died. Her husband survived her by five years. He died in + 1834, fifty-seven years after his first meeting with the actress, and + forty-seven since he instituted “The Derby” race meeting, winning the + first cup by his horse Sir Peter Teazle. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE PLOT OF A LADY NOVELIST + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>N the year 1790-1 + there was played in real life a singularly poor adaptation of an unwritten + novel by one of the Minifie sisters—those sentimental ladies who, + during the last quarter of the eighteenth century, provided the + circulating libraries with several volumes of high-flown fiction. The + adaptation of this unwritten novel possessed a good many of the most + prominent features of the original, so that when it was brought to light + there could be very little doubt as to the brain out of which it had been + evolved. The result of the performance was so unsatisfactory as to compel + one to believe that the worst possible way of producing a novel is to + adapt it to suit the requirements of one's relations, forcing them to play + in real life and in all earnest the parts assigned to them by the inventor + of the plot. + </p> + <p> + Miss Minifie, the second of the sentimental sisters, had married in the + year 1769 Colonel John Gunning, the brother of the two beautiful girls one + of whom became Duchess of Hamilton, and later Duchess of Argyll, and the + other Countess of Coventry. The result of the union was a daughter of + considerable plainness, and people said that in this respect she resembled + her mother's rather than her father's family. It seems that while the + Gunning tradition was beauty, the Minifie tradition was a nose, and it + soon became apparent that it was impossible to combine the two with any + satisfactory artistic results. The young lady had made an honest attempt + to do so, but her failure was emphatic. She had eyes that suggested in a + far-off way the long-lashed orbs of her aunts, but that unlucky Minifie + nose was so prominent a feature that it caused the attention of even the + most indulgent critic to be riveted upon it, to the exclusion of the rest + of her face. The charitably-disposed among her friends affirmed that she + would be passably good-looking if it were not for her nose; the others + said that she would be positively plain if it were not for her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Her father was probably that member of his family who had least brains: + they made a soldier of him, and he married a lady novelist, closing an + inglorious career by running off with his tailor's wife and having a writ + issued against him for £5000. He took care to be at Naples, outside the + jurisdiction of the English court, when it was issued, and he died before + it could be served on him, which suggests that he may not have been so + devoid of brains after all. + </p> + <p> + Her mother (<i>née</i> Minifie) seems to have entertained the idea of + making the girl work out a “plot” for her when she arrived at the + regulation age of the sentimental heroine of those days, and this plot she + invented with all her accustomed absence of skill. Her materials were a + “glorious child”—this was how she described her daughter—with + a gifted mother; a young cousin, heir to a dukedom and a large estate; + and, lastly, the Gunning tradition. Could any novelist ask for more? A + short time afterwards she did, however, and this was just where her art + failed her. She did much to discourage the writers of fiction from + endeavouring to work out their plots in real life. + </p> + <p> + Catherine Gunning, the “glorious child,” being the niece of the Duchess of + Argyll, her cousin was, of course, the Marquis of Lome; and as the Duchess + had always kept up an intimate connection with the members of her father's + family, even to the second generation, her son, Lord Lome, and Catherine + Gunning had been a good deal together, not only when they were children, + but also when they had reached the age when the novel-writer's hero and + heroine begin to blossom. The girl's mother, doubtless having an idea that + these very live young people were as plastic as the creatures of her + fancy, thought to hasten on the <i>dénouement</i> of her story by + whispering it to her friends. She whispered into more than one ear that + Lord Lome and her daughter were betrothed, and such friends as received + this information, strictly <i>sub rosa</i>, took care to spread it abroad—strictly + <i>sub rosa</i> also. Now the aggregation of many confidential reports of + this sort is what is termed “news,” so that in the course of a short time + it was common property that Lord Lome was to marry his cousin, Catherine + Gunning. + </p> + <p> + Congratulations reached the young lady, which she neither quite accepted + nor altogether rejected. She seems to have learned from her mother's + novels that in such matters it is wisest for a young woman to be silent + but pensive. And on the whole her behaviour was fairly consistent with + that of the heroine which her mother meant her to be. Indeed, all that was + needed to enable her to take the place of the heroine of a pleasant little + love story was the proposal of the hero; and unhappily this formality had + still to be reckoned with. Lord Lome had so paltry an appreciation of what + was due to the art of the fiction-writer that he declined to play the part + of the young hero of the story, and when people approached him on the + subject he said that he had heard nothing about being accepted by Miss + Gunning, and that he could not possibly be accepted until he had proposed + to her. He seems to have acted with the discretion one would have looked + for from the son of the Duchess of Argyll, and in the course of the year + the reports of the possible union dwindled away, and people began to feel + that their friends were untrustworthy gossips to have circulated a report + solely on the evidence of a young lady's pensiveness. + </p> + <p> + This was, however, as it turned out, but the opening chapter in the + romance which the novelist-mother was working out. Indeed, it scarcely + bears to be considered as a regular chapter, it was rather the prologue to + the comedy which was played two years later with the same heroine, but for + obvious reasons with a different hero. In the prologue there was scarcely + visible any of the art of the novelist; in the comedy itself, however, her + hand is constantly apparent, controlling the movements of at least one of + her puppets; and very jerkily, too, that hand pulled the strings. The + clumsiness in the construction of the plot prevented any one from + sympathising with the authoress and stage-manager of the piece when its + failure became known to the world in general, and to Horace Walpole in + particular. Walpole could pretend a good deal. He pretended, for instance, + that he knew at once that the Rowley poems, sent to him by Chatterton, + were forgeries; and he pretended that he knew nothing of the marriage of + his niece to the Duke of Gloucester until the public were apprised of the + fact. He could not, however, even pretend that he sympathised with the + failure of the Minifie plot. On the contrary, he gloats over the disgrace + which, he declared, on this account fell upon the Gunning family. He hated + the whole Gunning family, and he was plainly in ecstasies of delight when + he believed that ruin had come upon them. “The two beautiful sisters were + exalted almost as high as they could go,” he wrote. “Countessed and double + duchessed, and now the family have dragged themselves down into the very + dirt.” + </p> + <p> + The “family” had of course done nothing of the sort. One member of the + family had allowed herself to be made a fool of at the suggestion of her + very foolish mother; her father had also been indiscreet, but there is a + wide difference between all this and the family of Gunning “dragging + themselves into the very dirt.” The result of the tricks of the lady + novelist to marry her daughter to the heir to a dukedom was only to make + every one roar with laughter, and no doubt the fatuous ladies felt greatly + annoyed. But the Marquis of Lome did not seem to take the matter greatly + to heart, and he was a member of the Gunning family; nor did the Duke of + Hamilton show himself to be greatly perturbed, though he must have been + somewhat jealous of the honour of the family to which his mother belonged. + The position that the Gunning family had taken among the greatest families + in the land rested upon too solid a foundation to be shaken by the + foolishness of a lady novelist, who had married a Gunning. And now people + who read the story of the “dragging in the dirt” only shrug their + shoulders at the ridiculous figure cut by the actors in the shallow and + sordid comedy, and laugh at the spiteful gibe of the prince of gossips, + who played a congenial part in damning the product of the Minifie brain. + </p> + <p> + Two years after the failure of the Lome plot startling whispers were once + again heard in regard to Miss Gunning and the heir to another dukedom. + This time it was the Marquis of Blandford who attracted the Minifie fancy. + He was the Duke of Marlborough's heir, and was twenty-three years of age. + Of course it was Mrs. Gunning (<i>née</i> Minifie) who was the first to + make the announcement that the young people were greatly attached; and + then followed—after the interval of a chapter or two—the lady + novelist's declaration to her niece, a Mrs. Bowen, that Lord Blandford had + proposed, and had been accepted by Miss Gunning. The date of the marriage + had been fixed, and the draft deed of the settlements signed; but, as in + the former “case,” the recipient of the news was told that she must regard + the communication as strictly confidential, the fact being that although + the arrangements for the match were so fully matured, yet General Gunning—he + had recently been made a general—had not been let into the secret. + </p> + <p> + It must have seemed a little queer to Mrs. Bowen to learn that her uncle + had not been made acquainted with the good luck that was in store for his + daughter. The signing of marriage deeds in the absence of the bride's + father must surely have struck her as being a trifle irregular. However + this may be, she seems to have treated the communication as strictly + confidential by at once proceeding to spread abroad the news that it + contained. It reached the ears of several people of distinction before + long. General Conway heard of it, and from a quarter that seemed to him + absolutely trustworthy. He passed it round to Walpole and the Court + circle. The Duke of Argyll, as the uncle of the young lady most interested + in the match, was apprised of it in due course, and on appealing to + headquarters—that is to say, to Mrs. Gunning—for confirmation + or denial of the report, learned that the marriage had indeed been + “arranged,” but the question of settlements remained in abeyance. + </p> + <p> + Shortly afterwards there came rumours that there were obstacles in the way + of the marriage, and Miss Gunning, on being questioned by some of her + friends, confessed that it was the parents of her lover who were unkind: + young Lord Blandford was burning with anxiety to call her his own, but the + Duke and Duchess belonged unfortunately to that type of parent to be found + in so many novels in which the course of true love runs anything but + smooth. + </p> + <p> + Strange to say, it was just at this point that a letter appeared in the <i>Advertiser</i>, + signed by General Gunning, apprising the world of the fact that the + Gunnings were one of the noblest families in existence, the writer + actually being able to trace his ancestry up to Charlemagne. + </p> + <p> + It was while people were so laughing over this letter as to cause him to + declare it to be a forgery, that the General became suspicious of the + genuineness of his daughter's statements in regard to her <i>affaire de + cour</i>. When a blunt old soldier finds a letter bearing his signature in + the papers, well knowing that he never wrote such a letter, he is apt to + question the good faith even of his nearest and dearest. It is certain, at + any rate, that the descendant of Charlemagne had an uneasy feeling that + any woman who wrote novels was not to be implicitly trusted in the affairs + of daily life. His mind running on forged letters, he commanded his + daughter to submit to him her correspondence with her lover. + </p> + <p> + Miss Gunning at once complied, and he sat down to read the lot. The result + was not to allay his suspicions. The letters read remarkably well, and + contained the conventional outpourings of an ardent lover to the object of + his affections. But to the simple soldier's mind they read just too well: + some of them were in the style of a novel-writer with whom he was + acquainted—imperfectly, it would appear, or he would have suspected + something long before. Retaining the precious “pacquet” he awaited + developments. + </p> + <p> + He had not long to wait. Another contribution to the correspondence which + he had in his hand came to his daughter, and was passed on to him. + Noticing in it some doubtful features, he came to the conclusion that it + was necessary to get to the bottom of the affair in the most + straightforward way. He leapt to the bottom of it by sending the whole + “pacquet” to the young Marquis of Blandford, asking him peremptorily if he + had written the letters. + </p> + <p> + He got a reply to the effect that a few of the letters were his—they + were the ordinary ones, courteous, but in no way effusive—but that + the greater number had not come from him. His lordship did not seem to + think that common politeness demanded his expressing his hearty + concurrence with the tone and sentiments contained in these same letters. + Now in the judgment of a novelist of the intellectual calibre of the + Minifie sisters this is exactly what a young gentleman would do when + playing the part of the hero of a romance, so that it would appear that + General Gunning was fully justified in coming to the conclusion that the + whole scheme—the whole piece of scheming—was the design of his + wife—that it represented an attempt on her part to force one of her + “plots” upon some real personages. Dull-minded man though he certainly + was, he must have perceived that his wife's plan was to compel Lord + Blandford to act the part of the hero of her sentimental imagination, and + when confronted with a parcel of forged letters, in every one of which + there was a confession of love for Miss Gunning, to bow his head meekly, + as any gentleman (of her imagination) would, and say, “Those are my + letters, and they express nothing but the most honourable sentiments of my + heart.” + </p> + <p> + But as it so happened the young Lord Blandford was not a young gentleman + of this particular stamp. He seems to have been almost as practical as his + great ancestor, who, out of the proceeds of his first love intrigue, + bought an annuity for himself. Hence the fiasco of the Minifie plot. + </p> + <p> + The Minifie plot, however, was not worked out in one act only, and an + insignificant prologue. The resources of the lady's imagination were by no + means exhausted by the failure of Lord Blandford to act up to the heroic + part assigned to him. He seems to have talked a good deal to his friends + about the forged letters, and the Duke of Argyll, the young lady's uncle, + took the matter up as an important member by marriage of the family. He + applied to his niece for an explanation of the whole affair; and her + father seems to have agreed with him in thinking that if the girl was ever + to hold up her head again it would be necessary for her to bring forward + some evidence to prove what she still asserted, namely, that the letters + had been written to her by Lord Blandford—this “pacquet” of letters + played as important a part in the story of Miss Gunning as the “Casquet + Letters” did in the history of Queen Mary—and that they were written + with the concurrence and approbation of the Duke and Duchess of + Marlborough. The Duke and Duchess had, she affirmed, encouraged her by the + most unmistakable means to believe that they were extremely anxious to see + her married to their son. + </p> + <p> + It was then suggested—Horace Walpole, who gloats over the whole + story in a letter to one of the Berrys, does not say by whom—that + the young woman should draw up a narrative of the progress of the + attachment professed for her by Lord Blandford, and of the particular acts + of encouragement for which she alleged the Duke and Duchess were + responsible, leading her to feel sure that she was a <i>persona grata</i> + with them. It was hoped by the Duke of Argyll and General Gunning that the + girl would be rehabilitated in the eyes of society by the production of + the Duke of Marlborough's formal assent to the statements made by Miss + Gunning in endeavouring to exculpate herself. Miss Gunning assenting—after + a consultation with her mother, we may be sure—a “narrative” was + accordingly prepared by the young lady, and in it there was the ingenuous + confession that although she had been unable to resist so dazzling an + offer as that of Lord Blandford, she had not wavered in her affection for + her cousin, the Marquis of Lome. + </p> + <p> + Here we have the true Minifie touch of sentimentality, and we cannot doubt + that the remaining portion of the plot was due to her clumsy ingenuity. + </p> + <p> + This narrative was sent to the Duke of Marlborough, with the following + letter from General Gunning: + </p> + <p> + “St. James's Place, + </p> + <p> + “<i>3 rd February</i>, 1791. + </p> + <p> + “My Lord,—I have the honour of addressing this letter to your Grace + not with the smallest wish after what has passed of having a marriage + established between Lord Blandford and my daughter, or of claiming any + promise or proposal to that effect, but merely to know whether your Grace + or the Duchess of Marlborough have it in recollection that your Graces or + Lord Blandford ever gave my daughter reason to think a marriage was once + intended. + </p> + <p> + “My motive for giving this trouble arises merely from a desire of removing + any imputation from my daughter's character, as if she had entertained an + idea of such importance without any reasonable foundation. + </p> + <p> + “For my own satisfaction, and that of my particular friends who have been + induced to believe the reports of the intended marriage, I have desired my + daughter to draw up an accurate narrative of every material circumstance + on which that belief was founded. + </p> + <p> + “This narrative I have the honour of transmitting to your Grace for your + own perusal, and that of the Duchess of Marlborough and Lord Blandford, + thinking it highly suitable that you should have an early opportunity of + examining it—and I beg leave to request that your Grace will, after + examination, correct or alter such passages as may appear either to your + Grace, the Duchess of Marlborough, or Lord Blandford, to be erroneously + stated. + </p> + <p> + “I have the honour to be, + </p> + <p> + “With the greatest respect, my Lord, + </p> + <p> + “Your Grace's most humble and + </p> + <p> + “Most obedient servant, + </p> + <p> + “John Gunning.” + </p> + <p> + This letter was dispatched by a groom to its destination at Blenheim, and + within half an hour of his delivering it, His Grace, according to the + groom, had handed him a reply for General Gunning. This document, which + the groom said he had received from the Duke, was forwarded, with a copy + of the letter to which it constituted a most satisfactory reply, to a + small and very select committee that had, it would seem, been appointed to + investigate and report upon the whole story. It must also be quoted in + full, in order that its point may be fully appreciated by any one + interested in this very remarkable story. + </p> + <p> + “Blenheim. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,—I take the earliest opportunity to acknowledge the receipt of + your letter, and to answer it with that explicitness you are so much + entitled to. From the first of the acquaintance of the D———s + of Marlborough and myself had with Miss Gunning, we were charmed with her, + and it was with infinite satisfaction we discovered <i>Blanford's</i> + sentiments similar to our own. It had long been the wish of both to see + him married to some amiable woman. Your daughter was the one we had fixed + on, and we had every reason to suppose the object of his tenderest + affections, and, from the conduct of both himself and his family, yourself + and Miss Gunning had undoubtedly every right to look on a marriage as + certain. Indeed when I left town last summer, I regarded her as my future + daughter, and I must say it is with sorrow I relinquish the idea. The + actions of young men are not always to be accounted for; and it is with + regret that I acknowledge my son has been particularly unaccountable in + his. I beg that you will do me the justice to believe that I shall ever + think myself your debtor for the manner in which you have conducted + yourself in this affair, and that I must always take an interest in the + happiness of Miss Gunning. I beg, if she has not conceived a disgust for + the whole of my family, she will accept the sincerest good wishes of the + Duchess and my daughters. + </p> + <p> + “I have the honour to remain, + </p> + <p> + “Sir, + </p> + <p> + “Your much obliged and + </p> + <p> + “Most obedient, humble servant, + </p> + <p> + “Marlborough.” + </p> + <p> + Now be it remembered that both these letters were forwarded to the + committee with the young lady's narrative, to be considered by them in the + same connection, at Argyll House, where their sittings were to be held. + </p> + <p> + What was to be said in the face of such documentary evidence as this? + Those members of the committee who hoped that the girl's statement of her + case would be in some measure borne out by the Duke of Marlborough could + never have hoped for so triumphant a confirmation of her story as was + contained in His Grace's letter. It seemed as if the investigation of the + committee would be of the simplest character; handing them such a letter, + accompanying her own ingenuous narrative, it was felt that she had + completely vindicated her position. + </p> + <p> + But suddenly one member of the committee—Walpole in the letter to + Miss Berry affirms that he was this one—ventured to point out that + in the Duke's letter the name <i>Blandford</i> was spelt without the + middle letter <i>d</i>. “That was possible in the hurry of doing justice,” + wrote Walpole. But the moment that this pin-puncture of suspicion appeared + in the fabric of the lady's defence it was not thought any sacrilege to + try to pick another hole in it. The wax with which the letter was sealed + was black, and the members of the council asked one another whom the + Marlborough family were in mourning for, that they should seal their + letter in this fashion. No information on this point was forthcoming. (It + is strange if Walpole did not suggest that they were in mourning over the + defunct reputation of the young lady.) If the Duke of Argyll was present, + it can well be believed that, after the members of the council had looked + at each other, there should be silence in that room, on one wall of which + we may believe there was hanging the splendid portrait of Elizabeth, + Duchess of Argyll and Baroness Hamilton of Hameldon, in her own right, + painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds. The lady was dying at her Scotch home when + this investigation into the conduct of her niece was being conducted. + </p> + <p> + It was probably a relief to every one present when the suggestion was made + that the Duke of Marlborough's second son was in town, and if sent for he + might be able to throw some light upon the subject of the mourning wax or + some other questionable point in the same connection. Although it was now + close upon midnight a messenger was dispatched for the young man—probably + his whereabouts at midnight would be known with greater certainty than at + midday. At any rate he was quickly found, and repaired in all haste to + Argyll House. He was brought before the committee and shown the letter + with the black wax. He burst out laughing, and declared that the writing + bore not the least resemblance to that of his father, the Duke of + Marlborough. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing more to be said. The council adjourned <i>sine die</i> + without drawing up any report, so far as can be ascertained. + </p> + <p> + But the full clumsiness of the Minifie “plot” was revealed the next day, + for General Gunning received a letter from the Captain Bowen whose name + has already entered into this narrative, telling him that his wife, the + General's niece, had a short time before received from Miss Gunning a + letter purporting to be a copy of one which had come to her from the Duke + of Marlborough, and begging her to get her husband to make a fair copy of + it, and return it by the groom. Captain Bowen added that he had complied + with his wife's request to this effect, but he had written “<i>copy</i>” + at the top and “<i>signed M</i>.” at the bottom, as is usual in engrossing + copies of documents, to prevent the possibility of a charge of forgery + being brought against the copyist. + </p> + <p> + The letter which the girl wrote to Mrs. Bowen was made the subject of an + affidavit shortly afterwards, and so became public property. It is so + badly composed that one cannot but believe it was dictated by her mother, + though the marvellous spelling must have been Miss Gunning's own. The fact + that, after making up a story of her love for Lord Lome, and of the + encouragement she received from the Marlborough family in respect of Lord + Blandford, she instructed Mrs. Bowen to keep the matter secret from her + mother, confirms one's impression as to the part the lady must have played + in the transaction. Miss Gunning wrote: “Neither papa or I have courage to + tell mama, for she detests the person dearest to me on earth.” + </p> + <p> + But however deficient in courage her papa was in the matter of acquainting + his wife with so ordinary an incident as was referred to in this letter, + he did not shrink from what he believed to be his duty when it was made + plain to him that his daughter and his wife had been working out a “plot” + in real life that necessitated the forging of a letter. He promptly + bundled both wife and daughter out of his house, doubtless feeling that + although the other personages in the romance which his wife was hoping to + weave, had by no means acted up to the parts she had meant them to play, + there was no reason why he should follow their example. It must be + acknowledged that as a type of the bluff old soldier, simple enough to be + deceived by the inartistic machinations of a foolish wife, but inexorable + when finding his credulity imposed upon, he played his part extremely + well. At the same time such people as called him a ridiculous old fool for + adopting so harsh a measure toward his erring child, whose tricks he had + long winked at, were perhaps not to be greatly blamed. + </p> + <p> + The old Duchess of Bedford at once received the outcasts and provided them + with a home; and then Mrs. Gunning had leisure to concoct a manifesto in + form of an open letter to the Duke of Argyll, in which, after exhorting + His Grace to devote the remainder of his life to unravelling the mystery + which she affirmed (though no one else could have done so) enshrouded the + whole affair of the letter, she went on to denounce the simple-hearted + General for his meanness—and worse—in matters domestic. He had + never been a true husband to her, she declared, and he was even more + unnatural as a father. As for Captain Bowen and his wife, the writer of + the manifesto showed herself to be upon the brink of delirium when she + endeavoured to find words severe enough to describe their treachery. They + were inhuman in their persecution of her “glorious child,” she said, and + then she went on to affirm her belief that the incriminating letters had + been forged by the Bowens, and the rest of the story invented by them with + the aid of the General to ruin her and her “glorious child.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Bowen thought fit to reply to this amazing production. He did so + through the prosaic form of a number of affidavits. The most important of + these was that sworn by one William Pearce, groom to General Gunning. In + this document he deposed that when he was about to start for Blenheim with + the “pacquet” for the Duke of Marlborough, Miss Gunning had caught him and + compelled him to hand over the “pacquet” to her, and that she had then + given him another letter, sealed with black, bearing the Marlborough arms, + instructing him to deliver it to her father, pretending that he had + received it at Blenheim. + </p> + <p> + In spite of all this Miss Gunning continued to affirm her entire + innocence, and even went the length—according to Walpole—of + swearing before a London magistrate that she was innocent. “It is but a + burlesque part of this wonderful tale,” adds Walpole, “that old crazy + Bedford exhibits Miss every morning on the Causeway in Hyde Park and + declares her <i>protégée</i> some time ago refused General Trevelyan.” But + “crazy old Bedford” went much further in her craziness than this, for she + actually wrote to the Marquis of Lome trying to patch up a match between + Miss Gunning and himself. Immediately afterwards the town was startled by + the report that a duel was impending between Lord Lome and Lord Blandford, + the former maintaining that it was his duty to uphold the honour of his + cousin, which had been somewhat shaken by the course adopted by the + Marlborough heir. Of course no duel took place, and the young men simply + laughed when their attention was called to the statement in print. + </p> + <p> + How much further these alarums and excursions (on the Causeway) would have + proceeded it would be impossible to tell, the fact being that Captain + Bowen and his wife gave notice of their intention to institute proceedings + against the Gunnings, mother and daughter, for libel. This brought <i>l'affaire + Gunning</i> to a legitimate conclusion, for the ladies thought it + advisable to fly to France. + </p> + <p> + “The town is very dull without them,” wrote Walpole to one of the Berrys, + enclosing a copy of a really clever skit in verse, after the style of “The + House that Jack Built,” ridiculing the whole affair. When Mrs. Gunning and + her daughter returned, after the lapse of several months, the old Duchess + of Bedford took them up once more; but the town declined to take any + further notice of them. It was not until her father and mother had been + dead for some years that Miss Gunning married Major Plunkett, an Irish + rebel, who fled after the rising in 1798. She lived with him happily + enough for twenty years, endeavouring to atone for the indiscretion of her + girlhood by writing novels. It is doubtful if many of her readers + considered such expiation wholly adequate, considering how foolish she had + been. One act of folly can hardly be atoned for by another. But her + intention was good, and her faults, including her novels, have long ago + been forgiven her by being forgotten. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TRAGEDY WITH A TWINKLE + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>N the summer of + 1770 there arrived at the town of Lisle a coach containing three ladies + and one man, followed by a travelling chaise with servants and luggage. Of + the ladies, one was approaching middle age, handsome and elegant; the + other two were her daughters, and both were extremely beautiful and + graceful girls, under twenty years of age. The man was a small, + middle-aged person, with a face which one would have called plain if it + had not been that the protruding of his upper lip and the twinkle in his + eyes suggested not plainness, but comedy. The very soul of comedy was in + the gravity of his face; but it was that sort which is not apparent to all + the world. It was the soul of comedy, not the material part; and most + people are disposed to deny the possibility of comedy's existing except in + juxtaposition with the grin through the horse-collar. Solemnity in a face, + with a twinkle in the eye—that is an expression which comedy may + wear without arousing the curiosity—certainly without exciting the + laughter—of the multitude. And this was exactly the form that the + drama of this man's life assumed; only it was tragedy with a twinkle. + Tragedy with a twinkle—that was Oliver Goldsmith. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0010" id="linkimage-0010"> </a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0203.jpg" alt="0203 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0203.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + The vehicles drew up in the courtyard of the hotel in the square, and Dr. + Goldsmith, after dismounting and helping the ladies to dismount, gave + orders in French to the landlord in respect of the luggage, and made + inquiries as to the table d'hôte. Shown to their respective rooms, the + members of the party did not meet again for some time, and then it was in + the private <i>salle</i> which they had engaged, looking out upon the + square. The two girls were seated at a window, and their mother was + writing letters at a table at one side. + </p> + <p> + When Dr. Goldsmith entered we may be pretty sure that he had exchanged his + travelling dress for a more imposing toilet, and we may be equally certain + that these two girls had something merry to say about the cut or the + colour of his garments—we have abundant record of their <i>badinage</i> + bearing upon his flamboyant liking for colour, and of his retorts in the + same spirit. We have seen him strutting to and fro in gay apparel, + obtrusively calling attention to the beauty of his waistcoat and speaking + in solemn exaggeration of its importance. The girls were well aware of + this form of his humour; they appreciated it to the full, and responded to + it in their merriment. + </p> + <p> + Then there came the sound of martial music from the square, and the elder + of the girls, opening the window on its hinges, looked out. A regiment of + soldiers was turning into the square and would pass the hotel, she said. + The two girls stood at one window and Goldsmith at another while the march + past took place. It was not surprising that, glancing up and seeing the + beautiful pair at the window, the mounted officers at the head of the + regiment should feel flattered by the attention, nor was it unlikely that + the others, taking the <i>pas</i> from their superiors, should look up and + exchange expressions in admiration of the beauty of the young ladies. It + is recorded that they did so, and that, when the soldiers had marched off, + the little man at the other window walked up and down the room in anger + “that more attention had been paid to them than to him.” + </p> + <p> + These are the words of Boswell in concluding his account of the episode, + which, by the way, he printed with several other stories in illustration + of the overwhelming vanity and extraordinary envy in Goldsmith's nature. + As if any human being hearing such a story of the most complete curmudgeon + would accept the words as spoken seriously! And yet Boswell printed it in + all solemnity, and hoped that every one who read it would believe that + Goldsmith, the happy-go-lucky Irishman, was eaten up with envy of the + admiration given to the two exquisite girls on whom, by the way, be + conferred immortality; for so long as English literature remains the names + of the Jessamy Bride and Little Comedy will live. Yes, and so long as + discriminating people read the story of Goldsmith's envious outburst they + will not fail to see the true picture of what did actually take place in + that room in the Lisle hotel—they will see the little man stalking + up and down, that solemn face of his more solemn than ever, but the + twinkle in his eyes revealing itself all the more brightly on this + account, while he shakes his fists at the ladies and affirms that the + officers were dolts and idiots to waste their time gazing at them when + they had a chance “of seeing me, madam, me—<i>me!</i>” Surely every + human being with the smallest amount of imagination will see the little + man thumping his waistcoat, while the Miss Hornecks hold up their hands + and go into fits of laughter at that whimsical Dr. Goldsmith, whom they + had chosen to be their companion on that tour of theirs through France + with their mother. + </p> + <p> + And surely every one must see them in precisely the same attitude, when + they read the story in Boswell's <i>Life of Johnson</i>, and notice what + interpretation has been put upon it by the Scotsman—hands uplifted + in amazement and faces “o'er-running with laughter” at the thought of how + Mr. Boswell has, for the thousandth time, been made a fool of by some one + who had picked up the story from themselves and had solemnly narrated it + to Boswell. But in those days following the publication of the first + edition of the <i>Life</i>, people were going about with uplifted hands, + wondering if any man since the world began had ever been so befooled as + Boswell. + </p> + <p> + When the story appeared in <i>Johnson's Life</i> the two girls had been + married for several years; but one of them at least had not forgotten the + incident upon which it was founded; and upon its being repeated in + Northcote's <i>Life of Reynolds</i>, she wrote to the biographer, assuring + him that in this, as well as in other stories of the same nature, the + expression on Goldsmith's face when he professed to be overcome by envy + was such as left no one in doubt that he was jesting. But Croker, in spite + of this, had the impudence to sneer at the explanation, and to attribute + it to the good-nature of the lady. Mr. Croker seems to have had a special + smile of his own for the weaknesses of ladies. This was the way he smiled + when he was searching up old registries of their birth in his endeavour to + prove that they had made themselves out to be six months younger than they + really were. (Quite different, however, must his smile have been when he + read Macaulay's Essay on Croker's edition of Boswell's <i>Life of Johnson</i>). + But, unhappily for poor Goldsmith, Mr. Boswell was able to bring forward + much stronger evidence of the consuming Vanity, the parent of Envy, with + which his “honest Dr. Goldsmith” was afflicted. There was once an + exhibition of puppets in Panton Street, and on some member of the + distinguished company in which he, curiously enough for such a + contemptible lout, constantly found himself, admiring the dexterity with + which the wooden figure tossed a halbert, Goldsmith, we are gravely told, + appeared annoyed and said: “Pshaw! I could do it as well myself!” + Supposing that some one had said to Boswell, “After all, sir, perhaps Dr. + Goldsmith could have done it as well himself,” would the man have tried to + explain that the question was not whether Goldsmith or the puppet was the + more dexterous, but whether it was possible to put any other construction + upon Goldsmith's exclamation than that assumed by Mr. Boswell? + </p> + <p> + Yet another instance is given of Goldsmith's envy, and this time the + object of it is not a wooden figure, but Shakespeare himself. He could not + bear, Dr. Beattie tells us, that so much admiration should be given to + Shakespeare. Hearing this, we feel that we are on quite a different level. + There is no jealousy rankling this time in Goldsmith's heart against a + mere puppet. It is now a frantic passion of chagrin that Shakespeare + should still receive the admiration of a chosen few! + </p> + <p> + But such vanity as that so strikingly illustrated by this last told story, + is, one must confess with feelings of melancholy, not yet wholly extinct + among literary men. It would scarcely be believed—unless by Boswell + or Beattie—that even in America a man with some reputation as a + writer should deliberately ask people to assume that he himself was worthy + of a place in a group that included not merely Shakespeare, but also + Milton and Homer. “Gentlemen,” said this egregious person at a public + dinner, “Gentlemen, think of the great writers who are dead and gone. + There was Shakespeare, he is dead and gone; and Milton, alas! is no longer + in the land of the living; Homer has been deceased for a considerable + time, and I myself, gentlemen, am not feeling very well to-night.” + </p> + <p> + What a pity it is that Beattie has gone the way of so many other great + writers. If he could only have been laid on to Mark Twain we should have + the most comic biography ever written. + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith was, according to the great Boswell and the many lesser Boswells + of his day, the most contemptible wretch that ever wrote the finest poem + of the century, the finest comedy of the century, the finest romance of + the century. He was a silly man, an envious man, an empty-headed man, a + stuttering fool, an idiot (of the inspired variety), an awkward lout, a + shallow pedant, and a generally ridiculous person; and yet here we find + him the chosen companion of two of the most beautiful and charming young + ladies in England on their tour through France, and on terms of such + intimacy with them and their brother, an officer in the Guards and the + son-in-law of a peer, that nicknames are exchanged between them. A + singular position for an Irish lout to find himself in! + </p> + <p> + Even before he is known to fame, and familiar only with famine, he is + visited in his garret by Dr. Percy, a member of the great Northumberland + family at whose town house he lived. So much for the empty-headed fool who + never opened his mouth except to put his foot in it, as a countryman of + his said about quite another person. He was a shallow prig, and yet when + “the Club” was started not one of the original members questioned his + right to a place among the most fastidious of the community, although + Garrick—to the shame of Johnson be it spoken—was not admitted + for nine years. Boswell—to the shame of Johnson be it spoken—was + allowed to crawl in after an exclusion of ten. According to his numerous + detractors, this Goldsmith was one of the most objectionable persons + possible to imagine, and yet we find him the closest friend of the + greatest painter of the day and the greatest actor of the day. He + associates with peers on the friendliest terms, and is the idol of their + daughters. He is accused, on the one hand, of aiming at being accounted a + Macaroni and being extravagant in his dress, and yet he has such a + reputation for slovenliness in this respect that it is recorded that Dr. + Johnson, who certainly never was accused of harbouring unworthy + aspirations to be accounted a beau, made it a point of putting on his best + garments—he may even have taken the extreme step of fastening up his + garters—before visiting Goldsmith, in order, as he explained, that + the latter might have no excuse for his slovenliness. We are also told + that Goldsmith made a fool of himself when he got on his feet to make a + speech, and yet it is known that he travelled through Europe, winning the + hospitality of more than one university by the display of his skill as a + disputant. Again, none of his innumerable traits of awkwardness is so + widely acknowledged as his conversational, and yet the examples which + survive of his impromptu wit are of the most finished type; and (even when + the record is made by Boswell), when he set himself out to take opposite + sides to Johnson, he certainly spoke better sense than his antagonist, + though he was never so loud. It is worth noting that nearly all the hard + things which Johnson is reported to have said respecting Goldsmith were + spoken almost immediately after one of these disputes. Further, we are + assured that Goldsmith's learning was of the shallowest order, and yet + when he was appointed Professor of History to the Royal Academy we do not + hear that any voice was raised in protest. + </p> + <p> + What is a simple reader to think when brought face to face with such + contradictory accounts of the man and his attainments? Well, possibly the + best one can do is to say, as Fanny Burney did, that Goldsmith was an + extraordinary man. + </p> + <p> + Of course, so far as his writings are concerned there is no need for one + to say much. They speak for themselves, and readers can form their own + opinion on every line and every sentence that has come from his pen. There + is no misunderstanding the character of <i>The Traveller</i> or <i>The + Deserted Village</i> or <i>The Vicar of Wakefield</i>. These are + acknowledged by the whole world to be among the most precious legacies of + the eighteenth century to posterity. Who reads nowadays, except out of + curiosity, such classics as <i>Tristram Shandy, Clarissa Harlow, Evelina, + or Rasselas?</i> But who has not read, and who does not still read for + pleasure, <i>The Vicar of Wakefield?</i> Johnson's laborious poem, <i>The + Vanity of Human Wishes</i>, now only exists as an example of the last gasp + of the didactic in verse; but we cannot converse without quoting—sometimes + unconsciously—from <i>The Deserted Village</i> When the + actor-manager of a theatre wishes to show how accomplished a company he + has at his disposal he produces <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i>, and he would + do so more frequently only he is never quite able to make up his mind + whether he himself should play the part of old Hardcastle, Tony Lumpkin, + Young Marlow, or Diggory. But what other eighteenth-century comedy of all + produced previous to the death of Goldsmith can any manager revive + nowadays with any hope of success? Colman of the eighteenth century is as + dead as Congreve of the seventeenth; and what about the masterpieces of + Cumberland, and Kelly, and Whitehead, and the rest? What about the Rev. + Mr. Home's <i>Douglas</i>, which, according to Dr. Johnson, was equal to + Shakespeare at his best? They have all gone to the worms, and these not + even bookworms—their very graves are neglected. But <i>She Stoops to + Conquer</i> is never revived without success—never without a modern + audience recognising the fact that its characters are not the puppets of + the playwright, but the creations of Nature. It is worthy of mention, too, + that the play which first showed the capacity of an actress whose name was + ever at the head of the list of actresses of the last generation, was + founded on <i>The Vicar of Wakefield.</i> It was Miss Ellen Terry's + appearance in <i>Olivia</i> in 1878 that brought about her connection with + the ever memorable Lyceum management as an associate of the greatest actor + of our day. + </p> + <p> + These things speak for themselves, and prove incontestably that Goldsmith + was head and shoulders above all those writers with whom he was on + intimate terms. But the mystery of the contradictory accounts which we + have of the man himself and his ways remains as unsolved as ever. + </p> + <p> + Yes, unless we assume one thing, namely—that the majority of the + people about him were incapable of understanding him. Is it going too far + to suggest that, as Daniel Defoe was sent to the pillory because his + ironic jest in <i>The Shortest Way with the Dissenters</i> was taken in + earnest, and as good people shuddered at the horrible proposal of Swift + that Irish babies should be cooked and eaten, so Goldsmith's peculiarities + of humour were too subtle to be in any degree appreciated by most of the + people with whom he came in contact in England? + </p> + <p> + In Ireland there would be no chance of his being misunderstood; for there + no form that his humour assumed would be regarded as peculiar. Irony is a + figure of speech so largely employed by the inhabitants in some parts that + people who have lived there for any length of time have heard whole + conversations carried on by two or three men without the slightest + divergence from this tortuous form of expression into the straight path of + commonplace English. And all this time there was no expression but one of + complete gravity on the faces of the speakers; a stranger had no clue + whatsoever to the game of words that was being played before him. + </p> + <p> + Another fully recognised form of humour which prevails in Ireland is even + more difficult for a stranger to follow; its basis consists in mystifying + another person, not for the sake of getting a laugh from a third who has + been let into the secret, but simply for the satisfaction of the mystifier + himself. The forms that such a scheme of humour may assume are various. + One of the most common is an affectation of extraordinary stupidity. It is + usually provoked by the deliverance of a platitude by a stranger. The + humourist pretends that he never heard such a statement before, and asks + to have it repeated. When this is done, there is usually a pause in which + the profoundest thought is suggested; then the clouds are seen to clear + away, and the perplexity on the man's face gives way to intelligence; he + has grasped the meaning of the phrase at last, and he announces his + victory with sparkling eyes, and forthwith puts quite a wrong construction + upon the simplest words. His chuckling is brought to a sudden stop by the + amazed protest of the victim against the suggested solution of the + obvious. Thus, with consummate art, the man is led on to explain at + length, with ridiculous emphasis, the exact meaning of his platitude; but + it is all to no purpose. The humourist shakes his head; he pretends that + the cleverness of the other is too much for him to grasp all in a moment; + it's a fine thing to have learning, to be sure, but these things may be + best not meddled with by ignorant creatures like himself; and so he goes + off murmuring his admiration for the fine display of wisdom that comes so + easy-like from the man whom he has been fooling. + </p> + <p> + This form of humour is indulged in by some Irishmen simply for the + satisfaction it gives them to indulge in it. They never hurry off to + acquaint a neighbour with what they have done, and they are quite pleased + with the thought that the person on whom they have been imposing will tell + the whole story of their extraordinary obtuseness to some one else; it + never strikes them that that some one else may fail to see through the + trick, and actually be convinced of the existence of their obtuseness. But + if such a possibility did occur to them, they would be all the better + pleased: they would feel that they had fooled two instead of one. + </p> + <p> + But, of course, the most widely recognised form of Irish humour is that + known as the “bull.” This is the delivery of a paradox so obvious as to be + detected—after a brief consideration—by an Englishman or even—after + an additional space for thought—by a Scotsman. But where the fun + comes in is (in the Irishman's eyes) when the others assume that the + humour of the bull is involuntary; and this is just what the Englishman + has been doing, and what the Irishman has been encouraging him to do, for + centuries. The Englishman is so busy trying to make it appear that he is + cleverer than he really is, he cannot see the humour of any man trying to + make out that he is more stupid than he really is. Let no one fancy for a + moment that the humour of an Irish bull is involuntary. It is a form of + expression that may be due to a peculiar twist in the Irishman's mind—indeed, + every form of humour may be said to be due to a peculiar twist of the mind—but + it is as much a figure of speech as irony or satire. “Blarney” and + “palaver” are other forms of speech in which the Irish of some generations + ago indulged with great freedom, and both are essentially Irish and + essentially humorous, though occasionally borrowed and clumsily worn on + the other side of the Channel, just as the bernous of the Moor is worn by + an English missionary when lecturing in the village schoolroom (with a + magic-lantern) on The Progress of Christianity in Morocco. + </p> + <p> + It would be interesting to make a scientific inquiry into the origin and + the maintenance of all these forms of expression among the Irish; but it + is unnecessary to do so in this place. It is enough if we remind English + readers of the existence of such forms even in the present day, when there + is so little need for their display. It can without difficulty be + understood by any one, however superficially acquainted with the history + of Ireland for the past thousand years, that “blarney” and “palaver” were + as necessary to the existence of the natives of the island as suspicion + and vigilance were to the existence of the invaders. But it is not so + apparent why Irishmen should be given to rush into the extremes of + bragging on the one hand, and self-depreciation on the other. Bragging is, + however, as much an endowment of Nature for the protection of a species or + a race as is imitation or mimicry. The Irishman who was able by the + exercise of this gift to intimidate the invaders, escaped a violent death + and transmitted his art to his children. The practice of the art of + self-depreciation was quite as necessary for the existence of the Irish + race up to the time of the passing of the first Land Act. For several + generations an Irishman was not allowed to own a horse of greater value + than five pounds; and every Irish agriculturist who improved the miserable + cabin which he was supposed to share with his pigs and his fowl, might + rest certain that his rent would be raised out of all proportion to his + improvements. In these circumstances it can easily be understood that it + was accounted a successful joke for a man who was doing tolerably well to + put on a poor face when in the presence of an inquiry agent of the absent + landlord—to run down all his own efforts and to depreciate generally + his holding, and thus to save himself from the despicable treatment which + was meted out to the unfortunate people by the conquerors of their + country. + </p> + <p> + It is not necessary to do more than make these suggestions to a scientific + investigator who may be disposed to devote some time to the question of + the origin of certain forms of Irish humour; it is enough for us, in + considering the mystery of that typical Irishman, Oliver Goldsmith, to + know that such forms of humour as we have specified have an actual + existence. Such knowledge is a powerful illuminant to a reader of + Boswell's and Beattie's stories of the stupidity of Goldsmith. A fine + flood of light is thrown upon the apparent mystery of the inspiration of + this idiot—of this man “who wrote like an angel and talked like poor + poll.” + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith was just too successful in maintaining that gravity which is the + very essence of those forms of humour in which he was constantly indulging + for his own satisfaction; the mask of gravity was such a good fit that the + short-sighted people who were around him never penetrated it. He was + making fools of the people about him, never giving a thought to the + possibility that they would transmit to posterity the impression which his + attitude conveyed to them, which was that he was a shallow fool. + </p> + <p> + Of course, it would be as absurd to contend that Goldsmith never made a + fool of himself as it would be to assume that Johnson never made a fool of + himself, or that Boswell ever failed to do so. The occasions upon which he + made himself ridiculous must have been numerous, but out of the many + incidents which Boswell and Beattie and Cooke and the others bring forward + as proofs of his stupidity there are few that will not bear to be + interpreted as instances of his practice of a form of humour well known in + Ireland. If his affectation of chagrin at the admiration given to the + Panton Street puppets, followed by the boast, “I could do it as well + myself,” was not humorous, then indeed there is nothing humorous under the + sun. If his object of setting the room roaring with laughter was not + achieved the night when at the club he protested that the oratory of Burke + was nothing—that all oratory, as a matter of fact, was only a knack—and + forthwith stood upon a chair and began to stutter, all that can be said is + that the famous club at Gerrard Street was more stolid than could be + believed. If his strutting about the room where he and his friends were + awaiting a late-comer to dinner, entreating Johnson and the rest to pay + particular attention to the cut of his new peach-bloom coat, and declaring + that Filby, his tailor, had told him that when any one asked him who had + made the garment he was not to forget Filby's address, did not help + materially to enliven the tedium of that annoying wait, all that can be + said is that Thrale, as well as Boswell, must have been of the party. + </p> + <p> + If a novelist, anxious to depict a typical humorous Irishman, were to show + his hero acting as Boswell says Goldsmith acted, would not every reader + acknowledge that he was true to the character of a comical Irishman? If a + playwriter were to put the scene on the stage, would any one in the + audience fail to see that the Goldsmith of the piece was fooling? Every + one in the club—Boswell best of all—was aware of the fact that + Goldsmith had the keenest admiration for Burke, and that he would be the + last man in the world to decry his powers. As for the peach-bloom coat, it + had been the butt of much jesting on the part of his friends; the elder of + the Miss Hornecks had written him a letter of pretty “chaff” about it, all + of which he took in good part. He may have bought the coat originally + because he liked the tint of the velvet; but assuredly when he found that + it could be made the subject of a jest he did not hesitate to jest upon it + himself. How many times have we not seen in Ireland a man behave in + exactly the same way under similar conditions—a boisterous young + huntsman who had put on pink for the first time, and was strutting with + much pride before an admiring group of servants, every one of whom had + some enthusiastic remark to make about the fit of the coat, until at last + the youth, pointing out the perfection of the gilt buttons, murmured: “Oh, + but isn't this a great day for Ireland!” + </p> + <p> + What a pity it was that Mr. Boswell had not been present at such a scene! + Can we not hear his comments upon the character of the young man who had + actually been so carried away by his vanity that he was heard to express + the opinion that the fortunes of his country would be materially affected + by the fact of the buttons of his new coat being gilt? (It was this same + Mr. Boswell, the critic of Goldsmith's all too attractive costume, who, + when going to see Pitt for the first time, put on Corsican native dress, + pretending that he did so in order to interest Pitt in General Paoli.) + </p> + <p> + In reading these accounts of Goldsmith's ways and the remarks of his + associates it must be noticed that some of these gentlemen had now and + again an uneasy impression that there was more in the poet's stupidity + than met the eye. Sir Joshua Reynolds was his closest friend, and it was + the business of the painter to endeavour to get below the surface of his + sitters. The general idea that prevails in the world is that he was rather + successful in his attempts to reproduce, not merely their features, but + their characters as well; and Sir Joshua saw enough beneath the rude + exterior of the man to cause him to feel toward Goldsmith as he felt for + none of his other friends. When the news of his death was brought to the + painter, he laid down his brushes and spent the day in seclusion. When it + is remembered that he spent every day of the week, not even excepting + Sunday, in his studio, the depth of his grief for the loss of his friend + will be understood. Upon more than one occasion Reynolds asserted that + Goldsmith was diverting himself by trying to make himself out to be more + stupid than he really was. Malone, whose judgment was rarely at fault, + whether it was exercised in the detection of fraud or in the discovery of + genius, was in perfect agreement with Reynolds on this point, and was + always ready to affirm that Boswell was unjust in his remarks upon + Goldsmith and the conclusions to which he came in respect of his + character. It is not necessary for one to have an especially vivid + imagination to enable one to see what was the expression on Malone's face + when he came upon the patronising passage in the <i>Life of Johnson</i> in + which Boswell stated that for his part he was always glad to hear “honest + Dr. Goldsmith” converse. “Puppy!” cried Johnson upon one occasion when a + certain commentator had patronised a text out of all recognition. What + would he have said had he heard Goldsmith patronised by Boswell? + </p> + <p> + So far as Goldsmith's actual vanity is concerned, all that can be said at + this time is that had it existed in the offensive form which it assumes in + some of Boswell's stories, Goldsmith would never have won the friendship + of those men and women who were his friends before he had made a + reputation for himself by the publication of <i>The 'Traveller</i>. If he + had had an extravagant opinion of his own capacity as a poet, he would + certainly never have suffered Johnson to make an attempt to improve upon + one of his poems; but Goldsmith not only allowed him to do so, but + actually included the lines written by Johnson when he published the poem. + Had he been eaten up by vanity, he would not have gone wandering down the + Mall in St. James's Park while his comedy was being played for the first + time before a delighted house. The really vain man was the author of The + Vanity of Human Wishes, who bought the showiest set of garments he could + find and sat in all their glory in the front row of the boxes on the night + when Garrick produced his tragedy of <i>Irene</i>—Garrick whom he + kept out of the Club for nine years simply because the actor had expressed + a wish to become one of the original members. The really vain man was the + one who made his stock story his account of his conversation with the King + in the Royal Library. Every one sees this now, and every one saw it, + except Boswell, when the <i>Life</i> was flung in the face of a convulsed + public, for the public of the year 1791 were as little aware of the real + value of the book as the author was of the true character of his hero and + his hero's friend Goldsmith. + </p> + <p> + After all, there would be no better way of arriving at a just conclusion + on the subject of Goldsmith's stupidity than by submitting the whole of + the case to an ordinary man accustomed to the many peculiarities of + Irishmen, especially in the exercise of their doubtful gift of humour. + “Here is a man,” we must say, “who became the most intimate friend of + people of title and the dearest friend of many men of brains. When the + most exclusive Club of the day was started his place as a member was not + disputed, even by the man who invented the word 'clubbable,' and knew what + it meant into the bargain; when the Royal Academy of Arts was started he + was invited to become one of its professors. Some of the wittiest things + recorded by the most diligent recorder of witty things that the world has + ever known, were uttered by him. Upon one occasion when walking among the + busts of the poets in Westminster Abbey with a friend, the latter pointing + around said: + </p> + <p> + “'<i>Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis</i>.' + </p> + <p> + “Leaving the Abbey and walking down the Strand to Temple Bar they saw the + heads of the men who had been captured and decapitated for taking part in + the Rebellion of the year 1745, bleaching in the winds in accordance with + the terms of the sentence for high treason. + </p> + <p> + “'<i>Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis</i>,' murmured the man of + whom we speak. Upon another occasion this same friend of his, who had a + unique reputation for speaking in the most ponderous language, even when + dealing with the simplest matters, asserted that the writing of the + dialogue in some recently published fables where fish were represented as + conversing, was very simple. 'Not so simple at all,' said the other, 'for + were you to write them, you would make every minnow talk like a whale.' + </p> + <p> + “In the course of a few years, in addition to compiling histories, which + remained standard educational works for more than a century, and several + other books, he wrote a novel which received the highest praise from the + greatest intellects in Europe, and which is still read with delight by + thousands of people of all nationalities; a poem of which almost every + line is quoted daily in conversation—a poem which contains metaphors + that have been repeated for generations in the Senate, in the Court of + Law, and in the Church; and a play which has been pronounced the truest + comedy in the English language. He died at an early age, and a memorial of + his genius was given a place in Westminster Abbey. The inscription was + written by the most distinguished man of letters in England, and although + highly eulogistic, was considered by the greatest painter in the world and + the greatest orator in the world to fall short of doing justice to the + subject. + </p> + <p> + “But, on the other hand, the man of whom we speak was said by a Scotchman, + who himself was occasionally referred to as a cur and sometimes as an ape, + and more than once as a coxcomb, to have been roused to a frenzy of envy, + because some officers, passing through a square in a French town, looked + admiringly at two lovely girls who were at a window, ignoring him at + another window; and again because his friends spoke with favour of the + dexterity of a wooden figure dressed as a soldier, and yet again (on + another authority) because one of his friends read a passage from + Shakespeare, and affirmed that it was magnificent. Now, would you say,” we + should ask the authority to whom we are supposed to be stating a case—“would + you say that this man was in earnest when, in the first of the instances + quoted, he walked up and down the room in the French hotel asserting 'that + although the young ladies, of whom he was extremely fond, might have their + admirers, there were places where he, too, was given admiration'? Would + you say that he showed ill-temper or wit when, in the second instance, he + declared with warmth that he could toss a halbert quite as well as any + wooden figure? Would you say that——” + </p> + <p> + But we should not get any further than this in stating our case to a man + acquainted with the Irish and their humour: he would think that we were + taking a leaf out of the book of Irish humour, and endeavouring to fool + him by asking him to pronounce a grave opinion upon the obvious; he would + not stay to give us a chance of asking him whether he thought that the + temptation of making “Noll” rhyme with “Poll,” was not too great to be + resisted by the greatest farceur of his time, in the presence of a + humorous colleague called Oliver; and whether an impecunious but witty + Irishman begged his greatest friend not to give him the nickname of Goldy, + because his dignity was hurt thereby, or simply because it was tantalising + for one to be called “Goldy,” whose connection with gold was usually so + transitory. + </p> + <p> + If people will only read the stories told of poor Goldsmith's vanity, and + envy, and coxcombry, with a handbook of Irish humour beside them, the + conclusion to which they will come must, we think, be that Goldsmith was + an Irishman, and that, on the whole, he made very good fun of Boswell, who + was a Scotsman, but that in the long run Boswell got very much the better + of him. Scotsmen usually laugh last. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE BEST COMEDY OF THE CENTURY + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>E occupied one + room in the farmhouse—the guest-chamber it had probably been called + when the farm was young. It was a pretty spacious apartment up one pair of + stairs and to the right of the landing, and from its window there was a + pleasing prospect of a paddock with wheat-fields beyond; there was a drop + in the landscape in the direction of Hendon, and here was a little wood. + The farmer's name was Selby, a married man with a son of sixteen, and + younger children, and the farmhouse was the nearest building to the sixth + milestone on the Edgware Road in the year 1771. + </p> + <p> + He was invariably alluded to as “The Gentleman,” and the name did very + well for him, situated as he was in the country; in the town and among his + acquaintances it would serve badly as a means of identification. He was + never referred to as “The Gentleman” of his circle. In his room in the + farmhouse there was his bed and table—a large table littered with + books; it took two chaises to carry his books hither from his rooms in the + Temple. Here he sat and wrote the greater part of the day, and when he was + very busy he would scarcely be able to touch the meals which were sent up + to him from the kitchen. But he was by no means that dignified type of the + man of letters who would shrink from fellowship with the farmer or his + family. He would frequently come down his stairs into the kitchen and + stand with his back to the fire, conversing with the housewife, and + offering her his sympathy when she had made him aware of the fact that the + privilege of being the wife of a substantial farmer, though undoubtedly + fully recognised by the world, carried many troubles in its train, not + only in connection with the vicissitudes of churning, but in regard to the + feeding of the calves, which no man could attend to properly, and the + making of the damson and cowslip wine. He told her that the best maker of + cowslip wine whom he had ever met was a Mrs. Primrose; her husband had at + one time occupied the Vicarage of Wakefield—he wondered if Mrs. + Selby had ever heard of her. Mrs. Selby's knowledge did not go so far, but + she thought that Mrs. Primrose's recipe must be a good one indeed if it + brought forth better results than her own; and the gentleman said that + although he had never tasted Mrs. Selby's he would still have no + hesitation in backing it for flavour, body, headiness, and all other + qualities associated with the distillation of the cowslip, against the + Primrose brand. + </p> + <p> + And then he would stare at the gammon in the rafter and mutter some words, + burst into a roar of laughter, and stumble upstairs to his writing, + leaving the good woman to thank Heaven that she was the wife of a + substantial farmer and not of an unsubstantial gentleman of letters, who + could not carry on a simple conversation without having some queer thought + fly across his brain for all the world like one of the swallows on the + water at Hendon, only maybe a deal harder to catch. She knew that the + gentleman had hurried to his paper and ink to complete the capture of that + fleet-flitting thought which had come to him when he had cast his eyes + toward the gammon, though how an idea worth putting on paper—after a + few muttered words and a laugh—could lurk about a common piece of + hog's-flesh was a mystery to her. + </p> + <p> + And then upon occasions the gentleman would take a walk abroad; the + farmer's son had more than once come upon him strolling about the fields + with his hands in his pockets and his head bent toward the ground, still + muttering fitfully and occasionally giving a laugh that made the grey pad + in the paddock look up slowly, still munching the grass. Now and again he + paid a visit to his friend Mr. Hugh Boyd at the village of Kenton, and + once he returned late at night from such a visit, without his shoes. He + had left them in a quagmire, he said, and it was only with a struggle that + he saved himself from being engulfed as well. That was the story of his + shoes which young Selby remembered when he was no longer young. And there + was another story which he remembered, but it related to his slippers. The + fact was that the gentleman had acquired the bad habit of reading in bed, + and the table on which his candlestick stood being several feet away from + his pillow, he saved himself the trouble of rising to extinguish it by + flinging a slipper at it. In the morning the overturned candle was usually + found side by side on the floor with an unaccountably greasy slipper. This + method of discharging an important domestic duty differed considerably + from Johnson's way of compassing the same end. Johnson, being extremely + short-sighted, was compelled to hold the candle close to the book when + reading in bed, so that he had no need to use his slipper as an + extinguisher. No, but he found his pillow very handy for this purpose. + When he had finished his reading he threw away the book and went asleep + with his candle under his pillow. + </p> + <p> + The gentleman at the farm went about a good deal in his slippers, and with + his shirt loose at the collar—the latter must have been but one of + his very customary negligences, or Sir Joshua Reynolds would not have + painted him thus. Doubtless the painter had for long recognised the + interpretative value of this loosened collar above that of the velvet and + silk raiment in which the man sometimes appeared before the wondering eyes + of his friends. + </p> + <p> + But if the painter had never had an opportunity of studying the + picturesqueness of his negligence, he had more than one chance of doing so + within the farmhouse. + </p> + <p> + Young Selby recollected that upon at least one occasion Sir Joshua, his + friend Sir William Chambers, and Dr. Johnson had paid a visit to the + gentleman who lodged at the farm. He remembered that for that reception of + so distinguished a company the farmhouse parlour had been opened and tea + provided. There must have been a good deal of pleasant talk between the + gentleman and his friends at this time, and probably young Selby heard an + astonishingly loud laugh coming from the enormous visitor with the brown + coat and the worsted stockings, as the gentleman endeavoured to tell his + guests something of the strange scenes which he was introducing in the + comedy he was writing in that room upstairs. It was then a comedy without + a name, but young Selby heard that it was produced the following year in + London and that it was called <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i>. + </p> + <p> + This was the second year that the gentleman had spent at the farm. The + previous summer he had been engaged on another work which was certainly as + comical as the comedy. It was called <i>Animated Nature</i>, and it + comprised some of the most charmingly narrated errors in Natural History + ever offered to the public, and the public have always been delighted to + read pages of fiction if it is only called “Natural History.” This is one + of the best-established facts in the history of the race. After all, <i>Animated + Nature</i> was true to half its title: every page was animated. + </p> + <p> + It was while he was so engaged, with one eye on Buffon and another on his + MS., that he found Farmer Selby very useful to him. Farmer Selby knew a + great deal about animals—the treatment of horses under various + conditions, and the way to make pigs pay; he had probably his theories + respecting the profit to be derived from keeping sheep, and how to feed + oxen that are kept for the plough. All such knowledge he must have placed + at the disposal of the author, though the farmer was possibly too careless + an observer of the simple incidents of the fields to be able to verify + Buffon's statement, reproduced in Animated Nature, to the effect that cows + shed their horns every two years; he was probably also too deficient in + the spirit in which a poet sets about the work of compilation to be able + to assent to the belief that a great future was in store for the zebra + when it should become tame and perform the ordinary duties of a horse. But + if the author was somewhat discouraged in his speculations now and again + by Farmer Selby, he did not allow his fancy as a naturalist to be wholly + repressed. He had heard a story of an ostrich being ridden horsewise in + some regions, and of long journeys being accomplished in this way in + incredibly short spaces of time, and forthwith his imagination enabled him + to see the day when this bird would become as amenable to discipline as + the barn-door fowl, though discharging the tasks of a horse, carrying its + rider across England with the speed of a racer! + </p> + <p> + It was while he was engaged on this pleasant work of fancy and imagination + that Mr. Boswell paid him a visit, bringing with him as a witness Mr. + Mickle, the translator of the Lusiad. “The Gentleman” had gone away for + the day, Mrs. Selby explained; but she did not know Mr. Boswell. She could + not prevent him from satisfying his curiosity in respect of Dr. Goldsmith. + He went upstairs to his room, and he was fully satisfied. He found the + walls all scrawled over with outline drawings of quite a number of + animals. Having thus satisfied himself that the author of <i>Animated + Nature</i> was working in a thoroughly conscientious manner he came away. + He records the incident himself, but he does not say whether or not he was + able to recognise any of the animals from their pictures. + </p> + <p> + But now it was a professed and not an unconscious comedy that occupied Dr. + Goldsmith. Whatever disappointment he may have felt at the indifferent + success of the first performance of <i>The Good-Natured Man</i>—and + he undoubtedly felt some—had been amply redeemed by the money which + accrued to him from the “author's rights” and the sale of the play; and he + had only awaited a little encouragement from the managers to enable him to + begin another comedy. But the managers were not encouraging, and he was + found by his friends one day to be full of a scheme for the building of a + new theatre for the production of new plays, in order that the existing + managers might not be able to carry on their tyranny any longer. Such a + scheme has been revived every decade since Goldsmith's time, but never + with the least success. Johnson, whose sound sense was rarely at fault, + laughed at the poet's project for bringing down the mighty from their + seats, upon which Goldsmith cried: “Ay, sir, this matter may be nothing to + you who can now shelter yourself behind the corner of your pension,” and + he doubtless went on to describe the condition of the victims of the + tyranny of which he complained; but it is questionable if his doing so + effected more than to turn Johnson's laughter into another and a wider + channel. + </p> + <p> + But Goldsmith spoke feelingly. He was certainly one of the ablest writers + of the day, but no pension was ever offered to him, though on every hand + bounties were freely bestowed on the most indifferent and least deserving + of authors—men whose names were forgotten before the end of the + century, and during the lifetime of the men themselves remembered only by + the pay clerk to the almoner. + </p> + <p> + Of course, the scheme for bringing the managers to their senses never + reached a point of serious consideration; and forthwith Goldsmith began to + illustrate, for the benefit of posterity, the depths to which the + stupidity of the manager of a play-house can occasionally fall. The public + have always had abundant proofs of the managers' stupidity afforded them + in the form of the plays which they produce; but the history of the + production of the most brilliant comedy of the eighteenth century is + practically unique; for it is the history of the stupidity of a manager + doing his best to bring about the failure of a play which he was producing + at his own theatre. He had predicted the failure of the piece, and it must + strike most people that the manager of a theatre who produces for a + failure will be as successful in compassing his end as a jockey who rides + for a fall. Colman believed that he was in the fortunate position of those + prophets who had the realisation of their predictions in their own hands. + He was mistaken in this particular case. Although he was justified on + general principles in assuming his possession of this power, yet he had + made no allowance for the freaks of genius. He was frustrated in his + amiable designs by this incalculable force—this power which he had + treated as a <i>quantité négligeable</i>. A man who has been accustomed + all his life to count only on simple ability in the people about him, is, + on suddenly being brought face to face with genius, like an astronomer who + makes out his tables of a new object on the assumption that it is a fixed + star, when all the time it is a comet, upsetting by its erratic course all + his calculations, and demanding to be reckoned with from a standpoint that + applies to itself alone. + </p> + <p> + The stars of Colman's theatrical firmament were such as might safely be + counted on; but Goldsmith's genius was not of this order. The manager's + stupidity lay in his blunt refusal to recognise a work of genius when it + was brought to him by a man of genius. + </p> + <p> + It has been said that the central idea of the plot of <i>She Stoops to + Conquer</i> was suggested by an incident that came under Goldsmith's + notice before he left Ireland. However this may be, it cannot be denied + that the playing of the practical joke of Tony Lumpkin upon the two + travellers is “very Irish.” It would take a respectable place in the list + of practical jokes of the eighteenth century played in Ireland. In that + island a collector of incidents for a comedy during the past two centuries + would require to travel with a fat notebook—so would the collector + of incidents for a tragedy. Goldsmith's task may not have been to invent + the central idea, but to accomplish the much more difficult duty of making + that incident seem plausible, surrounding it with convincing scenery and + working it out by the aid of the only characters by which it could be + worked out with a semblance of being natural. This was a task which genius + only could fulfil. The room whose walls bore ample testimony to its + occupant's sense of the comedy of a writer's life, witnessed the supreme + achievement in the “animated nature” of <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i>. It + contains the two chief essentials to a true comedy—animation and + nature. + </p> + <p> + It is certain that the play was constructed and written by Goldsmith + without an adviser. He was possibly shrewd enough to know that if he were + to take counsel with any of his friends—Garrick, Johnson, Reynolds, + or Colman—he would not be able to write the play which he had a mind + to write. The artificial comedy had a vogue that year, and though it may + have been laughed at in private by people of judgment, yet few of those + within the literary circle of which Johnson was the acknowledged centre, + would have had the courage to advise a poet writing a piece in hopes of + making some money, to start upon a plot as farcical as Nature herself. At + that period of elegance in art everything that was natural was pronounced + vulgar. Shakespeare himself had to be made artificial before he could be + played by Garrick. Goldsmith must have known that his play would be called + vulgar, and that its chances of being accepted and produced by either of + the managers in London would be doubtful; but, all the same, he wrote the + piece in accordance with his own personal views, and many a time during + the next two years he must have felt that he was a fool for doing so. + </p> + <p> + However this may be, the play was finished some time in the summer of + 1771; and on September 7th the author was back at his rooms in the Temple + and writing to his friend Bennet Langton, whom he had promised to visit at + his place in Lincolnshire. “I have been almost wholly in the country at a + farmer's house, quite alone, trying to write a comedy. It is now finished, + but when or how it will be acted, or whether it will be acted at all, are + questions I cannot resolve,” he told Langton. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0011" id="linkimage-0011"> </a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0241.jpg" alt="0241 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0241.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + The misgivings which he had at this time were well founded. He considered + that the fact of his having obtained from Colman a promise to read any + play that he might write constituted an obligation on his part to submit + this piece to Colman rather than to Garrick. He accordingly placed it in + Colman's hands; but it is impossible to say if the work of elaborate + revision which Goldsmith began in the spring of 1772 was due to the + comments made by this manager on the first draft or to the author's + reconsideration of his work as a whole. But the amended version was + certainly in Colman's hands in the summer of this year (1772). The + likelihood is that Colman would have refused point-blank to have anything + to do with the comedy after he had read the first draft had it not been + that just at this time Goldsmith's reputation was increased to a + remarkable extent by the publication of his Histories. It would be + difficult to believe how this could be, but, as usual, we are indebted to + Mr. Boswell for what information we have on this point. Boswell had been + for some time out of London, and on returning he expressed his amazement + at the celebrity which Goldsmith had attained. “Sir,” he cried to Johnson, + “Goldsmith has acquired more fame than all the officers last war who were + not generals!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir,” said Johnson, “you will find ten thousand fit to do what they + did before you find one who does what Goldsmith has done”—a bit of + dialogue that reminds one of the reply of the avaricious <i>prima donna</i> + when the Emperor refused to accede to her terms on the plea that were he + to pay her her price she would be receiving more than any of his marshals. + “Eh bien, mon sire. Let your marshals sing to you.” + </p> + <p> + At any rate, Colman got the play—and kept it. He would give the + author no straightforward opinion as to its prospects in his hands. He + refused to say when he would produce it—nay, he declined to promise + that he would produce it at all. Goldsmith was thus left in torment for + month after month, and the effect of the treatment that he received was to + bring on an illness, and the effect of his illness was to sink him to a + depth of despondency that even Goldsmith had never before sounded. The + story told by Cooke of his coming upon the unhappy man in a coffeehouse, + and of the latter's attempt to give him some of the details of the plot of + the comedy, speaks for itself. “I shook my head,” wrote Cooke, “and said + that I was afraid the audience, under their then sentimental impressions, + would think it too broad and farcical for comedy.” This was poor comfort + for the author; but after a pause he shook the man by the hand, saying + piteously: “I am much obliged to you, my dear friend, for the candour of + your opinion, but it is all I can do; for alas! I find that my genius, if + ever I had any, has of late totally deserted me.” + </p> + <p> + This exclamation is the most piteous that ever came from a man of genius; + and there can be no doubt of the sincerity of its utterance, for it was + during these miserable months that he began a new novel, but found himself + unable to get further than a few chapters. And all this time, when, in + order to recover his health, he should have had no worries of a lesser + nature, he was being harassed by the trivial cares of a poor, generous + man's life—those mosquito vexations which, accumulating, become more + intolerable than a great calamity. + </p> + <p> + He had once had great hopes of good resulting from Colman's taking up the + management of Covent Garden, and had written congratulations to him within + the first week of his entering into possession of the theatre. A very + different letter he had now to write to the same man. Colman had + endeavoured to evade the responsibility of giving him a direct answer + about the play. He clearly meant that the onus of refusing it should lie + at the door of some one else. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Sir,” wrote the author in January, 1773, “I entreat you'll release + me from that state of suspense in which I have been kept for a long time. + Whatever objections you have made or shall make to my play I will + endeavour to remove and not argue about them. To bring in any new judges + either of its merits or faults I can never submit to. Upon a former + occasion when my other play was before Mr. Garrick he offered to bring me + before Mr. Whitehead's tribunal, but I refused the proposal with + indignation. I hope I shall not experience as hard treatment from you as + from him.... For God's sake take the play and let us make the best of it, + and let me have the same measure at least which you have given as bad + plays as mine.” + </p> + <p> + Upon receiving this letter, Colman at once returned to him the manuscript + of the play, and on the author's unfolding it he found that on the back of + almost every page, on the blank space reserved for the prompter's + hieroglyphs, some sneering criticism was scrawled. To emphasise this + insult Colman had enclosed a letter to the effect that if the author was + still unconvinced that the piece would be a failure, he, Colman, would + produce it. + </p> + <p> + Immediately on receipt of this contemptible effort at contempt Goldsmith + packed up the play and sent it to Garrick at Drury Lane. That same + evening, however, he met Johnson and told him what he had done; and + Johnson, whose judgment on the practical side of authorship was rarely at + fault, assured him that he had done wrong and that he must get the + manuscript back without delay, and submit to Colman's sneers for the sake + of having the comedy produced. Upon Johnson's promising to visit Colman, + and to urge upon him the claims of Goldsmith to his consideration, the + distracted author wrote to Drury Lane: + </p> + <p> + “Upon more mature deliberation and the advice of a sensible friend, I + begin to think it indelicate in me to throw upon you the odium of + confirming Mr. Colman's sentence. I therefore request that you will send + my play by my servant back; for having been assured of having it acted at + the other house, though I confess yours in every respect more to my wish, + yet it would be folly in me to forgo an advantage which lies in my power + of appealing from Mr. Colman's opinion to the judgment of the town.” + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith got back the play, and Johnson explained to him, as he did some + years later to Reynolds, that the solicitations which he had made to + Colman to put it in rehearsal without delay amounted almost to force. At + any rate, the play was announced and the parts distributed to the + excellent company which Colman controlled. It was soon proved that he + controlled some members of this company only too well. The spirit in, + which he set about the discharge of his duties as a manager was apparent + to every one during the earliest rehearsals. Johnson, writing to an + American correspondent, mentioned that Colman made no secret of his belief + that the play would be a failure. Far from it. He seems to have taken the + most extraordinary trouble to spread his belief far and wide; and when a + manager adopts such a course, what chance, one may ask, has the play? What + chance, the players could not but ask, have the players? + </p> + <p> + This was possibly the only occasion in the history of the English drama on + which such questions could be asked. If managers have a fault at all—a + question which is not yet ripe for discussion—it has never been in + the direction of depreciating a play which they are about to produce—that + is, of course, outside the author's immediate circle. It is only when the + play has failed that they sometimes allow that it was a bad one, and + incapable of being saved even by the fine acting of the company and the + sumptuous mounting. + </p> + <p> + But Colman controlled his company all too well, and after a day or two it + was announced that the leading lady, the accomplished Mrs. Abington, had + retired from the part of Miss Hardcastle; that Smith, known as Gentleman + Smith, had refused to play Young Marlow; and that Woodward, the most + popular comedian in the company, had thrown up the part of Tony Lumpkin. + </p> + <p> + Here, in one day, it seemed that Colman had achieved his aims, and the + piece would have to be withdrawn by the author. This was undoubtedly the + managerial view of the situation which had been precipitated by the + manager, and it was shared by those of the author's friends who understood + his character as indifferently as did Colman. They must all have been + somewhat amazed when the author quietly accepted the situation and + affirmed that he would rather that his play were damned by bad players + than merely saved by good acting. One of the company who had the sense to + perceive the merits of the piece, Shuter, the comedian, who was cast for + the part of old Hardcastle, advised Goldsmith to give Lewes, the + harlequin, the part of Young Marlow; Quick, a great favourite with the + public, was to act Tony Lumpkin; and, after a considerable amount of + wrangling, Mrs. Bulkley, lately Miss Wilford, who had been the Miss + Richland of <i>The Good-Natured Man</i>, accepted the part which the + capricious Mrs. Abington resigned. + </p> + <p> + Another start was made with the rehearsals of the piece, and further + efforts were made by Colman to bring about the catastrophe which he had + predicted. He refused to let a single scene be painted for the production, + or to supply a single new dress; his ground being that the money spent in + this way would be thrown away, for the audience would never allow the + piece to proceed beyond the second act. + </p> + <p> + But happily Dr. Johnson had his reputation as a prophet at stake as well + as Colman, and he was singularly well equipped by Nature for enforcing his + views on any subject. He could not see anything of what was going on upon + the stage; but his laugh at the succession of humorous things spoken by + the company must have had an inspiring effect upon every one, except + Colman. Johnson's laugh was the strongest expression of appreciation of + humour of which the century has a record. It was epic. To say that + Johnson's laugh at the rehearsals of <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i> saved + the piece would perhaps be going too far. But can any one question its + value as a counteracting agent to Colman's depressing influence on the + stage? Johnson was the only man in England who could make Colman (and + every one else) tremble, and his laugh had the same effect upon the + building in which it was delivered. It was the Sirocco against a wet + blanket. When one thinks of the feeling of awe which was inspired by the + name of Dr. Johnson, not only during the last forty years of the + eighteenth century, but well into the nineteenth, one begins to appreciate + the value of his vehement expression of satisfaction upon the people on + the stage. Goldsmith dedicated his play to Johnson, and assuredly the + compliment was well earned. Johnson it was who compelled Colman to produce + the piece, and Johnson it was who encouraged the company to do their best + for it, in spite of the fact that they were all aware that their doing + their best for it would be resented by their manager. + </p> + <p> + Reynolds also, another valuable friend to the author, sacrificed several + of his busiest hours in order to attend the rehearsals. His sister's + sacrifices to the same end were perhaps not quite so impressive, nor were + those made by that ingenious “country gentleman,” Mr. Cradock, referred to + by Walpole. Miss Horneck, his beautiful “Jessamy Bride,” and her sister, + lately married to Mr. Bunbury, bore testimony to the strength of their + friendship for the poet, by accompanying him daily to the theatre. + </p> + <p> + But, after all, these good friends had not many opportunities of showing + their regard for him in the same way; for the play must have had + singularly few rehearsals. Scarcely a month elapsed between the date of + Colman's receiving the manuscript on its being returned by Garrick and the + production of the piece. It is doubtful if more than ten rehearsals took + place after the parts were recast. If the manager kept the author in + suspense for eighteen months respecting the fate of his play, he + endeavoured to make up for his dilatoriness now. It was announced for + Monday, March 15th, and, according to Northcote, it was only on the + morning of that day that the vexed question of what the title should be + was settled. For some time the author and his friends had been talking the + matter over. “We are all in labour for a name to Goldy's play,” wrote + Johnson. <i>The Mistakes of a Night, The Old House a New Inn, and The + Belle's Stratagem</i> were suggested in turn. It was Goldsmith himself who + gave it the title under which it was produced. + </p> + <p> + On the afternoon of this day, March 15th, the author was the guest at a + dinner-party organised in his honour. It is easy to picture this + particular function. The truth was that Colman's behaviour had broken the + spirit not only of the author, but of the majority of his friends as well. + They would all make an effort to cheer up poor Goldsmith; but every one + knows how cheerless a function is one that is organised with such + charitable intentions. It is not necessary that one should have been in a + court of law watching the face of the prisoner in the dock when the jury + have retired to consider their verdict in order to appreciate the feelings + of Goldsmith when his friends made their attempt to cheer him up. The last + straw added on to the cheerlessness of the banquet was surely to be found + in the accident that every one wore black! The King of Sardinia had died a + short time before, and the Court had ordered mourning to be worn for some + weeks for this potentate. Johnson was very nearly outraging propriety by + appearing in coloured raiment, but George Steevens, who called for him to + go to the dinner, was fortunately in time to prevent such a breach of + etiquette. “I would not for ten pounds have seemed so retrograde to any + general observance,” cried Johnson in offering his thanks to his + benefactor. Happily the proprieties were saved; but what must have been + the effect of the appearance of these gentlemen in black upon the person + whom they meant to cheer up! + </p> + <p> + Reynolds told his pupil, Northcote, what effect these resources of gaiety + had upon Goldsmith. His mouth became so parched that he could neither eat + nor drink, nor could he so much as speak in acknowledgment of the + well-meant act of his friends. When the party after this entertainment set + out for the theatre they must have suggested, all being in black, a more + sombre procession than one is accustomed to imagine when conjuring up a + picture of an eighteenth-century theatre party. + </p> + <p> + And Goldsmith was missing! + </p> + <p> + Unfortunately Boswell was not present, or we should not be left in doubt + as to how it happened that no one thought of taking charge of Goldsmith. + But no one seemed to think of him, and so his disappearance was never + noticed. His friends arrived at the theatre and found their places, + Johnson in the front row of the boxes; and the curtain was rung up, and + Goldsmith was forgotten under the influence of that comedy which + constitutes his greatest claim to be remembered by theatre-goers of + to-day. + </p> + <p> + He was found by an acquaintance a couple of hours later wandering in the + Mall of St. James's Park, and was only persuaded to go to the theatre by + its being represented to him that his services might be required should it + be found necessary to alter something at the last moment. + </p> + <p> + Now, among the members of that distinguished audience there was a man + named Cumberland. He was the author of <i>The West Indian</i> and several + other plays, and he was regarded as one of the leaders of the sentimental + school, the demise of which was satirised in the prologue to this very + play which was being performed. Cumberland was a man who could never see a + particle of good in anything that was written by another. It was a + standing entertainment with Garrick to “draw him on” by suggesting that + some one had written a good scene in a play, or was about to produce an + interesting book. In a moment Cumberland was up, protesting against the + assumption that the play or the book could be worth anything. So wide a + reputation had he for decrying every other author that when Sheridan + produced <i>The Critic; or, the Tragedy Rehearsed</i>, his portrait was + immediately recognised in Sir Fretful Plagiary. + </p> + <p> + What must have been the feelings of this man when, from the first, the + play, which he had come to wreck, was received by the whole house with + uproarious applause? Well, we don't know what he felt like, but we know + what he looked like. One of the newspapers described him as “looking + glum,” and another contained a rhymed epigram describing him as weeping. + Goldsmith entered the theatre by the stage door at the beginning of the + fifth act, where Tony Lumpkin and his mother appear close to their own + house, and the former pretends that the chaise has broken down on + Crackscull Common. He had no sooner got into the “wings” than he heard a + hiss. “What's that, sir?” he whispered to Colman, who was beside him. + “Psha, sir! what signifies a squib when we have been sitting on a barrel + of gunpowder all night?” was the reply. The story is well known; and its + accuracy has never been im peached. And the next day it was well known + that that solitary hiss came from Cumberland, the opinion that it was due + to the malevolence of Macpherson, whose pretensions to the discovery of <i>Ossian</i> + were exposed by Johnson, being discredited. + </p> + <p> + But the effect of Colman's brutality and falsehood into the bargain had + not a chance of lasting long. The hiss was received with cries of “Turn + him out!” and, with an addition to the tumultuous applause of all the + house, Goldsmith must have been made aware in another instant of the fact + that he had written the best comedy of the day and that Colman had lied to + him. From the first there had been no question of sitting on a barrel of + gunpowder. Such applause could never greet the last act of a play the + first four acts of which had been doubtful. He must have felt that at last + he had conquered—that he had by one more achievement proved to his + own satisfaction—and he was hard to satisfy—that those friends + of his who had attributed genius to him had not been mistaken; that those + who, like Johnson and Percy and Reynolds, had believed in him before he + had written the work that made him famous, had not been misled. + </p> + <p> + The next day all London was talking of <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i> and of + Colman. Horace Walpole, who detested Goldsmith, and who found when he went + to see the play that it was deplorably vulgar, mentioned in a letter which + he wrote to Lady Ossory on the morning after the production that it had + “succeeded prodigiously,” and the newspapers were full of epigrams at the + expense of the manager. If Colman had had the sense to keep to himself his + forebodings of the failure of the piece, he would not have left himself + open to these attacks; but, as has been said, he took as much pains to + decry the coming production as he usually did to “puff” other pieces. It + would seem that every one had for several days been talking about nothing + else save the coming failure of Dr. Goldsmith's comedy. Only on this + assumption can one now understand the poignancy of the “squibs”—some + of them partook largely of the character of his own barrel of gunpowder—levelled + against Colman. He must have been quite amazed at the clamour that arose + against him; it became too much for his delicate skin, and he fled to Bath + to get out of the way of the scurrilous humourists who were making him a + target for their pop-guns. But even at Bath he failed to find a refuge. + Writing to Mrs. Thrale, Johnson said: “Colman is so distressed with abuse + that he has solicited Goldsmith to take him off the rack of the + newspapers.” + </p> + <p> + It was characteristic of Goldsmith that he should do all that was asked of + him and that he should make no attempt, either in public or in private, to + exult in his triumph over the manager. The only reference which he made to + his sufferings while Colman was keeping him on the rack was in a letter + which he wrote to his friend Cradock, who had written an epilogue for the + play, to explain how it was that this epilogue was not used at the first + representation. After saying simply, “The play has met with a success + beyond your expectation or mine,” he makes his explanation, and concludes + thus: “Such is the history of my stage adventure, and which I have at last + done with. I cannot help saying that I am very sick of the stage, and + though I believe I shall get three tolerable benefits, yet I shall on the + whole be a loser, even in a pecuniary light; my ease and comfort I + certainly lost while it was in agitation.” + </p> + <p> + Goldsmith showed that he bore no grudge against Colman; but the English + stage should bear him a grudge for his treatment of one of the few authors + of real genius who have contributed to it for the benefit of posterity. If + <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i> had been produced when it first came into the + manager's hands, Goldsmith would certainly not have written the words just + quoted. What would have been the result of his accepting the encouragement + of its production it is, of course, impossible to tell; but it is not + going too far to assume that the genius which gave the world <i>The + Good-Natured Man</i> and <i>She Stoops to Conquer</i> would have been + equal to the task of writing a third comedy equal in merit to either of + these. Yes, posterity owes Colman a grudge. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE JESSAMY BRIDE + </h2> + <h3> + A PERSONAL NOTE + </h3> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>OR some time after + the publication of my novel <i>The Jessamy Bride</i> my time was fully + occupied by replying to correspondents—strangers to me—who + were good enough to take an interest in Mary Horneck, the younger of the + two charming sisters with whom Goldsmith associated for several years of + his life on terms of the warmest affection. The majority of these + communications were of a very interesting character. Only one + correspondent told me I should not have allowed Oliver Goldsmith to die so + young, though two expressed the opinion that I should have made Goldsmith + marry Mary Horneck; nearly all the remaining communications which were + addressed to me contained inquiries as to the origin of the sobriquet + applied to Mary Horneck in Goldsmith's epistle. To each and to all such + inquiries I have, alas! been compelled to return the humiliating reply + that I have not yet succeeded in finding out what was the origin of the + family joke which made Goldsmith's allusions to “The Jessamy Bride” and + “Little Comedy” intelligible to the “Devonshire Crew” of Hornecks and + Reynoldses. I have searched volume after volume in the hope of having even + the smallest ray of light thrown upon this matter, but I have met with no + success. I began to feel, as every post brought me a sympathetic inquiry + as to the origin of the pet name, that I should take the bold step of + confessing my ignorance to the one gentleman who, I was confident, could + enlighten it. “If Dr. Brewer does not know why Mary Horneck was called + 'The Jessamy Bride,' no one alive can know it,” was what I said to myself. + Before I could write to Dr. Brewer the melancholy new's came of his death; + and very shortly afterwards I got a letter from his daughter, Mrs. Brewer + Hayman, in which she mentioned that her lamented father had been greatly + interested in my story, and asked if I could tell her what was the meaning + of the phrase. + </p> + <p> + It does certainly seem extraordinary that no biographer of Goldsmith, of + Reynolds, or of Burke, should have thought it worth while writing a letter + to the “Jessamy Bride” herself to ask her why she was so called by + Goldsmith. The biographers of Goldsmith and the editors of Boswell seem to + have had no hesitation in stating that Mary Horneck was the “Jessamy + Bride,” and that her elder sister was “Little Comedy”; but they do not + appear to have taken a wider view of their duties than was comprised in + this bare statement. The gossipy Northcote was surely in the secret, and + he might have revealed the truth without detracting from the interest of + the many inaccuracies in his volume. Northcote had an opportunity of + seeing daily the portrait of Mary which Sir Joshua painted, and which hung + in his studio until the day of his death, when it passed into the + possession of the original, who had become Mrs. Gwyn, having married + Colonel, afterwards General, Gwyn. + </p> + <p> + But although up to the present I have not obtained even as much evidence + as would be termed a clue by the sanguine officers of Scotland Yard, as to + the origin of the sobriquet, I am not without hope that some day one of my + sympathetic correspondents will be able to clear up the matter for me. I + am strengthened in this hope by the fact that among those who were kind + enough to write to me, was a lady who can claim relationship to Mary + Horneck, and who did not hesitate to send to me a bundle of letters, + written in the early part of the century by the “Jessamy Bride” herself, + with permission to copy and print any portion of the correspondence that I + might consider of interest. Of this privilege I gladly avail myself, + feeling sure that the interest which undoubtedly attaches to many portions + of the letters will exculpate me for the intrusion of a personal note into + these papers. + </p> + <p> + The grandfather of my correspondent (Mrs. Cor-ballis, of Ratrath, co. + Meath, Ireland) was first cousin to the Hornecks. He was the Rev. George + Mangles, chaplain to George III when Mrs. Gwyn (Mary Horneck) was Woman of + the Bedchamber to the Queen. As General Gwyn was Equerry to the King it + can easily be understood that the two families should be on terms of the + most intimate friendship. My correspondent mentions that her mother, who + only died thirteen years ago, was almost every year a visitor at the house + of Mrs. Gwyn, at Kew, and said that she retained her beauty up to the very + last. Confirmation of this statement is to be found in a passage in the + “Jerningham Letters.” Lady Bedingfeld's Journal contains the following + entry opposite the date “September 19th, 1833”: + </p> + <p> + “When the Queen returned to the drawing-room we found several ladies + there. I observed a very old lady with striking remains of beauty, and + whose features seemed very familiar to me. I felt to know her features by + heart, and at last I heard her name, Mrs. Gwyn, the widow of a General, + and near ninety! I had never seen her before, but when I was a girl my + uncle the Poet, gave me a portrait of her, copied from Sir Jos. Reynolds, + small size in a Turkish costume and attitude. This picture is still at + Cossey, and of course must be very like her since it led me to find her + out.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0012" id="linkimage-0012"> </a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0261.jpg" alt="0261 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0261.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + The picture referred to must certainly have been “very like” the original, + for it was painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds in 1772, sixty-one years before. + The engraving of it cannot but make one feel how exquisite must have been + the charm of Goldsmith's young friend, who survived him by sixty-six + years; for Mrs. Gywn did not die until 1840. + </p> + <p> + Very pathetic indeed it is to look at the sweet girlish face, which + appears in this portrait and also in that of the two sisters done in chalk + by the same master-hand, and then to read some of the passages in the + letters in which the writer refers to her old age and feebleness. Happily, + with Lady Bedingfeld's diary before us, our imagination is not largely + drawn on for a picture of the “Jessamy Bride” broken down by age and + infirmity. The woman who can be easily recognised by a stranger at + seventy-nine by her likeness to a portrait painted at the age of eighteen, + would make Ninon de l'Enclos envious. + </p> + <p> + The letters are written to Mrs. Mangles, the widow of the Chaplain to + George III, and the majority touch upon private matters with + sprightliness, and occasionally a delicate humour, such as Goldsmith would + certainly have appreciated. We seem to hear, while reading these passages, + faint echoes of the girlish laughter which must have rung through that + room in the inn at Calais, when Goldsmith paced up and down in a mock fury + because two officers passing the window looked more eagerly at the girls + than at him. + </p> + <p> + It is obvious, however, that the Queen's Woman of the Bedchamber would + write occasionally to her friend on some topic of public interest; + consequently we find, in the course of the correspondence, many passages + which throw a flood of light upon the incidents of the day. In a letter + dated April 10th, 1818, + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Gwyn describes with great sprightliness the wedding of the Princess + Elizabeth, the third daughter of George III, with Prince Hesse-Hombourgh, + which took place three days before: + </p> + <p> + “I delayed to write till after the marriage to tell you about it, as you + seemed to wish it. We were all appointed at seven o'clock in the evening, + when I went as smart as I could make myself. I wore the lavender sattin + robe, the same you saw me wear at Court, as the shape was the same, and it + <i>saved buying</i>, trimmed with silver, a new white sattin petticoat, + with a white net and silver over it, no hoop, but a Court head dress, and + lappets down. The Company consisting of the great officers of state, and + ambassadors and their wives, and the different households were the + Company. + </p> + <p> + “At 8 all were assembled when the Royal family in procession according to + their rank, went into the great drawing-room in the Queen's house. The + Duke of York led the Queen, the Prince Regent not being quite recovered of + his gout, and it is said the remembrance of his poor daughter's marriage + was too painful to him to undertake it. Before the state canopy was set a + fine communion table, red velvet and gold, all the gold plate belonging to + that service arranged behind it, and 3 Bishops and other clergymen + standing behind the table, it looked very magnificent. Then came the <i>Hero</i>, + the Prince Hesse Hombourgh, he went up to the table and stood there, I + believe 10 minutes alone, he looked well a manly unembarassed figure, then + walked in the Bride glittering with silver and diamonds, and really looked + very handsome, and her behaviour and manner was as well as possible, grace + and quiet, when she knelt she wept, and then he approached nearer her in + case her emotion would require his care, which happily was not the case. + The Duke of York gave her away, and behaved very bad. The Prince Hombourgh + thought when he had said I will very loud and distinct, all was done, but + the Arch Bishop desired him to repeat after him, which he was therefore + obliged to do. He cannot speak English and made such works of it, it was + then the Duke of York laughed so, he was obliged to stuff his handkerchief + in his mouth to conceal it. He promised to love her. When all was over he + saluted his bride on each side the face, and then her hand, with a + good-natured frank manner, then led her to the Queen, whose hand only he + kissed, the rest of the Royal family he embraced after his own fashion, + and he led her off with a very good air, and did not seem to trouble his + head about his <i>English performance</i>.” The Princess Elizabeth—the + shy young bride who was so overcome with emotion—had scarcely more + than passed her forty-ninth year when she was borne to the altar, and the + hero of the hour was, we learn from other sources than Mrs. Gwyn's + letters, most unheroically sick when driving away in a close carriage with + his bride. + </p> + <p> + The Prince Regent's daughter, the Princess Charlotte, had died the + previous year, hence the marrying panic which seized all the other members + of the Royal Family, lest the dynasty should become extinct. It is + pleasing to reflect that such gloomy apprehensions have since been amply + averted. + </p> + <p> + Regarding the death of the Princess Charlotte Mrs. Gwyn writes: + </p> + <p> + “... While I was at Oatlands the Prince Leopold came to see the Duchess + and staid there 3 hours, no one but the Duchess saw him—she told me + he is more composed in his manners now when seen by people in general but + with her alone his grief seems the same and he is gratified by being + allowed to vent it to one who feels for him and knows how to soothe his + mind. I can not doubt the Princess's life and his child's were thrown + away, by mismanagement—she was so bled and starved she had no + strength left—her own fortitude and energy supported her till nature + could no more. I could tell you much on the subject but it would take up + too much in a letter and besides <i>it is over</i>. Dr. Crofts thought he + was doing for the best no doubt—It comes to what <i>I</i> always say + of them—they can't do much and are very often wrong in their + opinions as you can vouch....” + </p> + <p> + In another letter Mrs. Gywn's adopted daughter was her amanuensis. It + contains many paragraphs of interest, especially to present-day readers. + The girl writes: + </p> + <p> + “Mamma was of course summoned to attend the Duke of Cambridge's Wedding, + but she was not in the room when the Ceremony was performed as before, on + account of the Queen having been ill. Mamma admires the Duchess of + Cambridge very much: though she is not exactly handsome, she is very + pleasing, and a pretty figure, but I understand she must have a new stay + maker to set her up etc. The Duke of Kent and his bride are now expected. + The Duke of Clarence it is expected will be married shortly afterwards. We + hear the Duchess of Kent is a little woman with a handsome face, and the + Duchess of Clarence uncommonly ugly. We went to Windsor about a month ago + to see Princess Sophia as the Queen was not there, and Princess Sophia has + a small party every night. We were there three days, and Mamma went to the + party every evening, and indeed it was very very dull for her as they play + one pool of Commerce, and then they go to a game called Snip, Snap, + Snorum, and which Mamma could not play at well without a great deal of + trouble to herself, therefore she was obliged to look on for perhaps an + hour and half which you may imagine was terrible for her not hearing a + word. I was much pleased in one respect while I was there by seeing Dear + Prince Leopold whom I had never seen before, and who must be to every body + an object of so much interest. He looked to me the picture of grief and + melancholy, but those who have seen him repeatedly since his misfortune + say he improves every time they see him. Mrs. C.... went one day to see + Claremont and was very much pleased. All remains as Princess Charlotte + left it, but nobody sees her room in which she died but himself, even her + combs and brushes are untouched, and her hat and cloak are where she laid + them the day before she died. There are models of her hand and arm one in + particular as it is his hand clasped in hers. I suppose you have often + heard she had a very beautiful hand and arm, but I will not go on, on so + melancholy a subject; yet I am sure it must interest you.” + </p> + <p> + The Princess Sophia, who instituted the fascinating game referred to in + this letter, was, of course, the fifth daughter of George III. + </p> + <p> + In another letter reference is made to a certain scandal, which Mrs. Gwyn + contradicts most vehemently. Even nowadays this particular bit of gossip + is remembered by some persons; but at the risk of depriving these pages of + the piquancy which attaches to a Court scandal, I will not quote it, but + conclude this Personal Note with what seems to me a most pathetic account + of the dying king: + </p> + <p> + “We continue in a state of great anxiety about our dear King, whose state + is distressing. Certainly no hope of recovery, and the chances of his + continuance very doubtful. His death may be any day, any hour, or he may + continue some <i>little</i> time longer, it depends on nature holding out + against sore disease, which afflicts him universally, and occasions great + suffering, this is heartbreaking to hear! and his patience and courage and + sweet and kind behaviour to all about him is most touching, so + affectionate to his friends and attendants, and thankful for their + attention and feeling for him. He will hold the hand of the Duchess of + Gloster or S. H. Halford for an hour at a time out of tenderness, till + excessive suffering ends it. He wishes to die in peace and charity with + all the world, and has reconciled himself to the Duke of Sussex. He hopes + his people have found him a merciful King. He says he never hurt anyone, + and that, he may truly say as his first wish to <i>all</i> was good and + benevolent, and ever ready to forgive.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE AMAZING ELOPEMENT + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>N a certain + evening in March, 1772, the fashionable folk of Bath were as earnestly on + pleasure bent as they were wont to be at this season—and every + other. The Assembly Rooms were open, a performance was going on at the + theatre, the Cave of Harmony was as musical as Pyrrha's Grotto, a + high-class concert was taking place under the conductorship of the + well-known Mr. Linley, and the Countess of Huntingdon was holding a prayer + meeting. For people who took their diversions <i>à la carte</i>, there was + a varied and an abundant menu. Chairs containing precious structures of + feathers, lace, and jewels towering over long faces powdered and patched + and painted <i>à la mode</i>, were swinging along the streets in every + direction, some with a brace of gold-braided lackeys by each of the + windows, but others in charge only of the burly chairmen. + </p> + <p> + Unobtrusive among the latter class of conveyance was one that a young + gentleman, a tall and handsome lad, called from its rank between + Pierrepont Street and the South Parade. He gave the bearers instructions + to hasten to the house of Mr. Linley in the Crescent, and to inquire if + Miss Linley were ready. + </p> + <p> + If she were not, he told them that they were to wait for her and carry out + her directions. The fellows touched their hats and swung off with their + empty chair. + </p> + <p> + The young man then went to a livery stable, and putting a few confidential + inquiries to the proprietor, received a few confidential replies, + accentuated by a wink or two, and a certain quick uplifting of a knuckly + forefinger that had an expression of secretiveness of its own. + </p> + <p> + “Mum's the word, sir, and mum it shall be,” whispered the man. “I stowed + away the trunk, leaving plenty of room for the genuine luggage—lady's + luggage, Mr. Sheridan. You know as well as I can tell you, sir, being + young but with as shrewd knowingness of affairs in general as might be + looked for in the son of Tom Sheridan, to say nought of a lady like your + mother, meaning to take no liberty in the world, Mr. Dick, as they call + you.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm obliged to you, Denham, and I'll not forget you when this little + affair is happily over. The turn by the 'Bear' on the London Road, we + agreed.” + </p> + <p> + “And there you'll find the chaise, sir, and as good a pair as ever left my + stable, and good luck to you, sir!” said the man. + </p> + <p> + Young Mr. Sheridan then hastened to his father's house in King's Mead + Street, and was met by an anxious sister in the hall. + </p> + <p> + “Good news, I hope, Dick?” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “I have been waiting for you all the evening. She has not changed her + mind, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “She is as steadfast as I am,” said he. “If I could not swear that she + would be steadfast, I would not undertake this business on her behalf. + When I think of our father——” + </p> + <p> + “Don't think of him except as applauding your action,” said the girl. + “Surely every one with the least spark of generosity will applaud your + action, Dick.” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't like to say so much,” said Dick, shaking his head. “Mathews + has his friends. No man could know so much about whist as he does without + having many friends, even though he be a contemptible scoundrel when he is + not employed over a rubber.” + </p> + <p> + “Who will dare to take the part of Mr. Mathews against you, Dick?” cried + his sister, looking at him proudly as the parlour candles shone upon him. + “I would that I could go with you as far as London, dear, but that would + be impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite impossible; and where would be the merit in the end?” said Dick, + pacing the room as he believed a man of adventure and enterprise would in + the circumstances. “You may trust to me to place her in safety without the + help of any one.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it, Dick, I know it, dear, and I am proud of you,” said she, + putting her arms about his neck and kissing him. “And look you here, + Dick,” she added, in a more practical tone. “Look you here—I find + that I can spare another five pounds out of the last bill that came from + Ireland. We shall live modestly in this house until you return to us.” + </p> + <p> + He took the coins which she offered to him wrapped up in a twist of + newspaper; but he showed some hesitation—she had to go through a + form of forcing it upon him. + </p> + <p> + “I hope to bring it back to you unbroken,” he murmured; “but in affairs of + this sort it is safest to have a pound or two over, rather than under, + what is barely needful. That is why I take your coins,—a loan—a + sacred loan. Good-bye, I returned only to say good-bye to you, my dearest + sister.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew your good heart, Dick, that was why I was waiting for you. + Good-bye, Dick, and God bless you.” + </p> + <p> + He was putting on his cloak in the hall. He saw that the pistols were in + its pockets, and then he suffered his sister to give him another kiss + before he passed into the dark street. + </p> + <p> + He felt for his pistols, and with a hand on each he felt that he was + indeed fairly launched upon a great adventure. + </p> + <p> + He made his way to the London road, and all the time he was wondering if + the girl would really come to him in the Sedan chair which he had sent for + her. To be sure she had promised to come upon this evening, but he knew + enough of the great affairs of this world to be well aware of the fact + that the sincerest promise of a maid may be rendered worthless by the + merest freak of Fate. Therefore, he knew that he did well to be doubtful + respecting the realisation of her promise. She was the beautiful Miss + Linley—every one in Bath knew her, and this being so, was it not + likely that some one—some prying person—some impudent fellow + like that Mathews who had been making love to her, although he had a wife + of his own in Wales—might catch a glimpse of her face through the + glass of the chair when passing a lamp or a link, and be sufficiently + curious to follow her chair to see whither she was going? + </p> + <p> + That was a likely enough thing to happen, and if it did happen and the + alarm of his flight with her were given, what chance would he have of + carrying out his purpose? Why, the chaise would be followed, and even if + it was not overtaken before London was reached, the resting-place of the + fugitives would certainly be discovered in London, and they should be + ignominiously brought back to Bath. Yes, unless Mathews were the pursuer, + in which case—— + </p> + <p> + Mr. Richard Brinsley Sheridan grasped more firmly the butt of the pistol + in the right-hand pocket of his cloak. He felt at that moment that should + Mathews overtake them, the going back to Bath would be on the part only of + Mathews. + </p> + <p> + But how would it be if Mr. Linley had become apprised of his daughter's + intention to fly from Bath? He knew very well that Mr. Linley had the best + of reasons for objecting to his daughter's leaving Bath. Mr. Linley's + income was increased by several hundred pounds by reason of the payments + made to him on account of his daughter's singing in public, and he was—very + properly, considering his large family—fond of money. Before he had + to provide for his family, he took good care that his family—his + eldest daughter particularly—helped to provide for him. + </p> + <p> + Doubtless these eventualities were suggested to him—for young Mr. + Sheridan was not without imagination—while on his way through the + dark outskirts of the beautiful city to the London Road. The Bear Inn was + just beyond the last of the houses. It stood at the junction of the London + Road and a narrower one leading past a couple of farms. It was here that + he had given instructions for the chaise to wait for him, and here he + meant to wait for the young lady who had promised to accompany him to + London—and further. + </p> + <p> + He found the chaise without trouble. It was under the trees not more than + a hundred yards down the lane, but the chair, with Miss Linley, had not + yet arrived, so he returned to the road and began to retrace his steps, + hoping to meet it, yet with some doubts in his mind. Of course, he was + impatient. Young gentlemen under twenty-one are usually impatient when + awaiting the arrival of the ladies who have promised to run away with + them. He was not, however, kept in suspense for an unconscionably long + time. He met the chair which he was expecting just when he had reached the + last of the lamps of Bath, and out of it stepped the muffled form of Miss + Linley. The chairmen were paid with a lavish hand, and Dick Sheridan and + Betsy Linley walked on to the chaise without exchanging any but a friendly + greeting—there was nothing lover-like in their meeting or their + greeting. The elopement was not that of a young woman with her lover; it + was, we are assured, that of a young woman anxious to escape from the + intolerable position of being the most popular person in the most + fashionable city in England, to the peaceful retreat of a convent; and the + young man who was to take charge of her was one whom she had chosen for + her guardian, not for her lover. Dick Sheridan seems to have been the only + young man in Bath who had never made love to Elizabeth Linley. His elder + brother, Charles by name, had discharged this duty on behalf of the + Sheridan family, and he was now trying to live down his disappointment at + being refused, at a farmhouse a mile or two away. The burden was greater + than he could bear when surrounded by his sisters in their father's house + in King's Mead Street. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0013" id="linkimage-0013"> </a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0277.jpg" alt="0277 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0277.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + Elizabeth Linley was certainly the most popular young woman in Bath; she + certainly was the most beautiful. The greatest painters of her day made + masterpieces of her portrait, and for once, posterity acknowledges that + the fame of her beauty was well founded. So spiritual a face as hers is to + be seen in no eighteenth-century picture except that of Miss Linley; one + has need to go back to the early Italian painters to find such + spirituality in a human face, and then one finds it combined with absolute + inanity, and the face is called Divine. Reynolds painted her as Saint + Cecilia drawing down angels, and blessedly unconscious of her own powers, + thinking only of raising herself among angels on the wings of song. His + genius was never better employed and surely never more apparent than in + the achievement of this picture. Gainsborough painted her by the side of + her younger brother, and one feels that if Reynolds painted a saint, + Gainsborough painted a girl. It was Bishop O'Beirne, an old friend of her + family and acquainted with her since her childhood, who said: “She is a + link between an angel and a woman.” + </p> + <p> + And this exquisite creature had a voice of so sympathetic a quality that + no one could hear it unmoved. Her father had made her technique perfect. + He was a musician who was something more than painstaking. He had taste of + the highest order, and it is possible to believe that in the training of + his eldest daughter he was wise enough to limit his instruction to the + technicalities of his art, leaving her to the inspiration of her own + genius in regard to the treatment of any theme which he brought before + her. + </p> + <p> + At any rate her success in the sublimest of all oratorios was far beyond + anything that could be achieved by an exhibition of the finest technical + qualities; and Mr. Linley soon became aware of the fact that he was the + father of the most beautiful and the most highly gifted creature that ever + made a father miserable. + </p> + <p> + Incidentally she made a great many other men miserable, but that was only + because each of them wanted her to make him happy at the expense of the + others, and this she was too kind-hearted to do. But the cause of her + father's grief was something different. It was due to the fact that the + girl was so sensitive that she shrank from every exhibition of herself and + her ability on a public platform. It was an agony to her to hear the + tumultuous applause that greeted her singing at a concert or in an + oratorio. She seemed to feel—let any one look at the face which is + to be seen in her portrait, and one will understand how this could be—that + music was something too spiritual to be made the medium only for the + entertainment of the multitude. Taking the highest imaginable view of the + scope and value and meaning of music, it can be understood that this girl + should shrink from such an ordeal as the concert platform offered to her + every time she was announced to sing. No more frivolous and fashionable a + population than that of Bath in the second half of the eighteenth century + was to be found in any city in the world; and Elizabeth Linley felt that + she was regarded by the concert-goers as no more than one of the numerous + agents they employed to lessen the ennui of an empty day. The music which + she worshipped—the spirit with which her soul communed in secret—was, + she felt, degraded by being sold to the crowd and subjected to the + patronage of their applause. + </p> + <p> + Of course when she spoke to her father in this strain he sympathised with + her, and bemoaned the fate that made it necessary for him to have her + assistance to save her mother and brothers and sisters from starvation. + And so for several years she was an obedient child, but very weary of the + rôle. She sang and enchanted thousands. She did not, however, think of + them; her mind dwelt daily upon the tens of thousands who regarded her + (she thought) as fulfilling no nobler purpose than to divert them for half + an hour between taking the waters and sitting down to faro or quadrille. + </p> + <p> + But it was not alone her distaste for the publicity of the platform that + made her miserable. The fact was that she was distracted by suitors. She + had, it was said, accepted the offer of an elderly gentleman named Long, + the wealthy head of a county family in the neighbourhood; and Foote, with + his usual vulgarity, which took the form of personality, wrote a play—a + wretched thing even for Foote—in which he dealt with an imaginarily + comic and a certainly sordid situation, with Miss Linley on the one side + and Mr. Long on the other. Serious biographers have not hesitated to + accept this situation invented by the notorious <i>farceur</i>, who was no + greater a respecter of persons than he was of truth, as a valuable + contribution to the history of the Linley family, especially in regard to + the love affair of the lovely girl by whose help they were made famous. + They have never thought of the possibility of her having accepted Mr. Long + in order to escape from her horror of the concert platform. They have + never suggested the possibility of Mr. Long's settling a sum of money on + her out of his generosity when he found out that Miss Linley did not love + him. + </p> + <p> + It was not Mr. Long, however, but a man named Mathews—sometimes + referred to as Captain, occasionally as Major—who was the immediate + cause of her running away with young Sheridan. This man Mathews was known + to be married, and to be in love with Elizabeth Linley, and yet he was + allowed to be constantly in her company, pestering her with his + attentions, and there was no one handy to horsewhip him. Sheridan's + sister, who afterwards married Mr. Lefanu, wrote an account of this + curious matter for the guidance of Thomas Moore, who was preparing his + biography of her brother. She stated that Miss Linley was afraid to tell + her father of Major Mathews and his impossible suit, and so she was “at + length induced to consult Richard Sheridan, whose intimacy with Major + Mathews, at the time, she thought might warrant his interference.” And + then we are told that “R. B. Sheridan sounded Mathews on the subject and + at length prevailed on him to give up the pursuit.” + </p> + <p> + That is how the adoring sister of “R. B. Sheridan,” who had been talking + to Elizabeth Linley of him as of a knight-errant, eager to redress the + wrongs of maidens in distress, wrote of her brother! He “sounded Mathews + on the subject.” On what subject? The subject was the pursuit of an + innocent girl by a contemptible scoundrel. How does the knight-errant + “sound” such a person when he sets out to redress the maiden's + ill-treatment? One R. B. Sheridan, a dramatist, gives us a suggestion as + to what were his ideas on this point: “Do you think that Achilles or my + little Alexander the Great ever enquired where the right lay? No, sir, + they drew their broadswords and left the lazy sons of peace to settle the + rights of the matter.” Now young Sheridan, who is reported by his sister + as “sounding” Mathews, was no coward. He proved himself to be anything but + afraid of Mathews, so that one must, out of justice to him, assume that + the only attempt he would have made to “sound” the scoundrel at this time + would be through the medium of a sound hiding. + </p> + <p> + It is at such a point as this in the biography of an interesting man that + one blesses the memory—and the notebook—of the faithful + Boswell. Thomas Moore was quite intimate with Richard Brinsley Sheridan, + but he never thought of asking him for some information on this particular + incident in his life, the fact being that he had no definite intention of + becoming his biographer. We know perfectly well how Boswell would have + plied Johnson with questions on the subject, had it ever come to his ears + that Johnson had undertaken to play the rôle of a knight-errant. + </p> + <p> + “Pray, sir, what did you say to Mathews when you sounded him?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think, sir, that in any circumstances a married gentleman who is + showing marked attentions to a virtuous young lady should be sounded by a + young gentleman who has been entrusted with the duty of protecting the + lady?” + </p> + <p> + Alas! instead of the unblushing indelicacy of Boswell, who hunted for + trifles as a pig hunts for truffles, we are obliged to be content with the + vagueness of a sister, whose memory, we have an uneasy feeling, was not + quite so good as she thought it was. + </p> + <p> + And from the memory of this sister we have an account of the amazing + elopement of Richard Sheridan with Elizabeth Linley. + </p> + <p> + When the young gentleman put her into the chaise that was waiting for them + on the London road, Miss Linley had never thought of him except as a kind + friend. She had accepted his services upon this occasion as she would + those of a courier to conduct her to London, and thence to France, where + she intended to enter a convent. The Miss Sheridans had lived in France, + and had some friends at St. + </p> + <p> + Quentin, who knew of a very nice clean convent—an establishment + which they could strongly recommend, and where she could find that + complete seclusion which Miss Linley longed for, and their brother Dick + was thought to be a very suitable companion for her on her way thither. + Mrs. Lefanu (<i>née</i> Sheridan), who wrote out the whole story in after + years, mentioned that her chivalrous brother was to provide a woman to act + as her maid in the chaise; but as not the least reference to this chaperon + is to be found in the rest of the story, we fear that it must be assumed + either that her brother forgot this unimportant detail, or that the detail + was unavoidably detained in Bath. What is most likely of all is that the + solitary reference to this mysterious female was dovetailed, somewhat + clumsily, into the narrative, at the suggestion of some Mrs. Grundy, who + shook her head at the narrative of so much chivalry unsupported by a + responsible chaperon. However this may be, the shadowy chaperon is never + alluded to again; she may have faded away into the mists of morning and + London, or she may have vanished at the first turnpike. Nothing was seen + or heard of her subsequently. + </p> + <p> + The boy and the girl reached London in safety, and drove to the house of a + Mr. Ewart, a relation of the Sheridans, to whom Dick offered the + explanation of his unconventional visit on the very plausible grounds of + his being engaged to the young lady, a great heiress, whom he was + hastening to France to marry. Of course the Ewart family were perfectly + satisfied with this explanation; and another friend, who had indisputable + claims to consideration, being, we are told, “the son of a respectable + brandy merchant in the City,” suggested that they should sail from London + to Dunkirk, “in order to make pursuit more difficult.” How such an end + could be compassed by such means is left to the imagination of a reader. + The young pair, however, jumped at the suggestion, and reached Dunkirk + after an uneventful crossing. + </p> + <p> + It is at this point in the sister's account of the itinerary of this + interesting enterprise that she mentions that Richard suddenly threw away + the disguise of the chivalrous and disinterested protector of the young + lady, and declared that he would not consent to conduct her to the convent + unless she agreed to marry him immediately. Mrs. Lefanu's exact words are + as follows: “After quitting Dunkirk Mr. Sheridan was more explicit with + Miss Linley as to his views on accompanying her to France.” + </p> + <p> + This is certainly a very lawyer-like way of condoning the conduct of a + mean scoundrel; but, happily for the credit of Richard Brinsley Sheridan, + it is the easiest thing in the world to discredit his sister's narrative, + although she adds that he urged on the girl what would seem to a casual + observer of society in general to be perfectly true—“she must be + aware that after the step she had taken, she could not appear in England + but as his wife.” As the sequel proved this alleged statement was quite + untrue! She did appear in England, and not as his wife, and no one seemed + to think anything the worse of her on account of her escapade. But to + suggest that Sheridan took advantage of the trust which the innocent girl + had reposed in him to compel her to marry him, a penniless minor with no + profession and very little education, is scarcely consistent with an + account of his high-mindedness and his sense of what was chivalrous. + </p> + <p> + And then the sister pleasantly remarks that “Miss Linley, who really + preferred him greatly to any person, was not difficult to persuade, and at + a village not far from Calais the marriage ceremony was performed by a + priest who was known to be often employed upon such occasions.” Whoever + this clergyman may have been, it is impossible for any one to believe that + in the discharge of his office he was kept in constant employment; for + “such occasions” as answered to the account given by the Sheridan sister + of the nuptials of the young couple, must have been extremely rare. + </p> + <p> + And yet Moore, on whom the responsibilities of a biographer rested very + lightly, was quite content to accept as strictly accurate the narrative of + Mrs. Lefanu, contradicted though it was by subsequent events in which both + her brother and Miss Linley were concerned. Moore does not seem to have + troubled himself over any attempt to obtain confirmation of one of the + most important incidents in the life of the man of whom he was writing. + </p> + <p> + He made no attempt to discover if the accommodating priest at the village + near Calais was still alive when he was compiling his biography of + Sheridan, and it was not beyond the bounds of possibility that he was + still alive; nor did this easy-going Irish master of melodies consider + that it devolved on him to try to find some record of the marriage in + question. + </p> + <p> + Now what happened after this remarkable union? The narrative of the sister + is quite as circumstantial as one could wish it to be, and even more + imaginative. But whatever qualities of excellence it possesses, it + certainly does not carry to a reader any conviction of accuracy. It states + that the interesting young couple went to Lille instead of carrying out + their original intention of going to St. Quentin, and that Miss Linley—now + Mrs. Sheridan, of course—“immediately secured an apartment in a + convent, where it was settled she was to remain either till Sheridan came + of age or till he was in a situation to support a wife. He remained a few + days at Lille to be satisfied that she was settled to her satisfaction; + but, whether from agitation of mind or fatigue, she was taken ill, and an + English physician, Dr. Dolman, of York, was called in to attend her. From + what he perceived of her case he wished to have her more immediately under + his care than he could in the convent, and he and Mrs. Dolman most kindly + invited her to their house.” + </p> + <p> + This would seem to have been very kind indeed on the part of the doctor + and his wife, but it so happened that a letter turned up some years ago + which the late Mr. Fraser Rae was able to print in the first volume of his + admirable <i>Life of Sheridan</i>, and this letter makes it plain that + wherever Mrs. Sheridan (<i>née</i> Linley) may have been, she was not + sojourning with the Dolmans. It is from Dr. Dolman himself, and it was + addressed to “Monsieur Sherridan, Gentilhomme Anglois, à l'Hôtel de + Bourbon, Sur la Grande Place.” It recommends the administering of certain + powders in a glass of white wine twice daily, and sends “compliments and + wishes of health to your lady.” + </p> + <p> + The question then remains: Was the lady at this time an inmate of the + convent, and did the doctor expect “Monsieur Sherridan” to go to this + institution twice a day in order to administer the powders to his lady? + Would not the doctor think it somewhat peculiar that the husband should be + at the Hôtel de Bourbon and his lady an inmate of the convent? + </p> + <p> + These questions must be left to be answered according to the experience of + life of any one interested in the matter. But it is worth noticing that, + on the very day that he received the missive from Dr. Dolman, Sheridan + wrote to his brother at Bath and mentioned that Miss Linley—he + continued to call her Miss Linley—was now “fixing in a convent, + where she has been entered some time.” Does the first phrase mean that she + was already in the convent, or only about to take up her residence there? + However this question may be answered, it is clear that Sheridan expected + to leave her behind him at Lille, for he adds, “Everything is now so + happily settled here I will delay no longer giving you that information, + though probably I shall set out for England without knowing a syllable of + what has happened with you.” + </p> + <p> + So far, then, as his emprise in regard to the lady was concerned, he + considered the incident to be closed. “Though you may have been ignorant + for some time of our proceedings, you could never have been uneasy,” he + continues hopefully, “lest anything should tempt me to depart, even in a + thought, from the honour and consistency which engaged me at first.” + </p> + <p> + Some people have suggested that Sheridan, when he drew the character of + Charles Surface, meant it to be something of an excuse for his own casual + way of life. But it must strike a good many persons who believe that he + induced the innocent girl, whom he set forth to protect on her way to a + refuge from the infamous designs of Mathews, to marry him, that Sheridan + approached much more closely to the character of Joseph in this + correspondence with his brother. A more hypocritical passage than that + just quoted could hardly have been uttered by Joseph Surface. As a matter + of fact, one of Joseph's sentiments is only a paraphrase of this unctuous + assumption of honour and consistency. + </p> + <p> + But this criticism is only true if one can believe his sister's story of + the marriage. If it is true that Sheridan set out from England with Miss + Linley with the intention of so compromising her that she should be + compelled to marry him, at the same time pretending to her and to his + brother to be actuated by the highest motives in respect of the ill-used + girl, it is impossible to think of him except with contempt. + </p> + <p> + Happily the weight of evidence is overpoweringly in Sheridan's favour. We + may think of him as a rash, an inconsiderate, and a culpably careless boy + to take it upon him to be the girl's companion to the French convent, but + we refuse to believe that he was ever capable of acting the grossly + disingenuous part attributed to him by his sister, and accepted without + question by his melodious biographer. There are many people, however, who + believe that when a man marries a woman, no matter in what circumstances, + he has “acted the part of a gentleman” in regard to her, and must be held + to be beyond reproach on any account whatsoever so far as the woman is + concerned. In the eyes of such censors of morality, as in the eyes of the + law, the act of marriage renders null and void all ante-nuptial deeds; and + it was probably some impression of this type which was acquired by + Sheridan's sister, inducing her to feel sure (after a time) that her + brother's memory would suffer if his biographer were to tell the story of + his inconsiderate conduct in running away with Elizabeth Linley, unless it + was made clear that he married her the first moment he had to spare. She + tried to save her brother's memory by persuading her own to accommodate + itself to what she believed to be her brother's emergency. She was a good + sister, and she kept her memory well under control. + </p> + <p> + But what did the father of the young lady think of the matter? What did + the people of Bath, who were well acquainted with all the actors engaged + in this little comedy, think of the matter? Happily these questions can be + answered by appealing to facts rather than to the well-considered + recollections of a discreet lady. + </p> + <p> + We know for certain that Mr. Linley, who was, as one might suppose, fully + equipped to play the part of the enraged father of the runaway girl, + turned up at the place of her retreat—he had no trouble in learning + in what direction to look for her—and having found her and the young + gentleman who had run away with her, did he, under the impulse of his + anger, fanned by his worldly knowledge, insist with an uplifted horsewhip + upon his marrying her without a moment's delay? Mr. Linley knew Bath, and + to know Bath was to know the world. Was he, then, of the same opinion as + that expressed (according to his sister's narrative) by young Sheridan to + persuade Miss Linley to be his bride—namely, that it would be + impossible for her to show her face in Bath unless as the wife of Richard + Brinsley Sheridan? + </p> + <p> + Nothing of the sort. Whatever reproaches he may have flung at his + daughter, however strong may have been his denunciation of the conduct of + the man who had run away with her, they had not the effect either of + inducing his daughter or her companion to reveal to him the fact that they + had been married for several days, or of interrupting the friendly + relations that had existed for nearly two years between himself and young + Sheridan. The dutiful memory of Miss Sheridan records that Mr. Linley, + “after some private conversation with Mr. Sheridan, appeared quite + reconciled to his daughter, but insisted on her returning to England with + him (Mr. Linley) to fulfil several engagements he had entered into on her + account. The whole party set out together the next day, Mr. Linley having + previously promised to allow his daughter to return to Lille when her + engagements were over.” + </p> + <p> + The comedy of the elopement had become a farce of the “whimsical” type. + Nothing more amusing or amazing has ever been seen on the vaudeville + stage. The boy and the girl run off together and get married. The + infuriated father follows them, ruthlessly invades their place of refuge, + and then, “after some private conversation” with his daughter's husband, + who does not tell him that he is her husband, says to the young woman, “My + dear, you must come home with me to sing at a concert.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, papa,” replies the girl. “Wait a minute, and I'll go too,” + cries the unconfused husband of the daughter. “All right, come along,” + says the father, and they all take hands and sing the ridiculous trio + which winds up the vaudeville after it has run on inconsequentially for a + merry forty minutes—there is a <i>pas de trois</i>, and the curtain + falls! + </p> + <p> + Alas, for the difference between Boswell the bald and Moore the melodious! + The bald prose of Boswell's diaries may have made many of the personages + with whom he dealt seem silly, but that was because he himself was silly, + and, being aware of this fact, the more discriminating of his readers have + no great difficulty in arriving at the truth of any matter with which he + deals. He would never have accepted unreservedly such a narrative as that + which Moore received from Mrs. Lefanu (<i>née</i> Sheridan), and put into + his own language, or as nearly into his own language as he could. But + Moore found it “so hard to narrate familiar events eloquently,” he + complained. He actually thought that Mrs. Lefanu's narrative erred on the + side of plausibility! The mysterious elopement, the still more mysterious + marriage, and the superlatively mysterious return of the fugitives and the + irate father hand-in-hand, he regarded as events so commonplace as not to + be susceptible of lyrical treatment. But the most farcical of the doings + of his own <i>Fudge Family</i> were rational in comparison with the + familiar events associated with the flight to France of his hero and + heroine. The <i>Trip to Scarborough</i> of Sheridan the farce-writer was + founded on much more “familiar events” than this extraordinary trip to + Lille, as narrated for the benefit of the biographer by Mrs. Lefanu. + </p> + <p> + What seems to be the truth of the whole matter is simply that Sheridan + undertook to be a brother to Elizabeth Linley, and carried out his compact + faithfully, without allowing anything to tempt him to depart, as he wrote + to Charles, “even in thought from the honour and consistency which engaged + [him] at first.” It must be remembered that he was a romantic boy of + twenty, and this is just the age at which nearly every boy—especially + a boy in love—is a Sir Galahad. As for Miss Linley, one has only to + look at her portrait to know what she was. She was not merely innocent, + she was innocence itself. + </p> + <p> + When Mr. Linley appeared at Lille he accepted without reserve the + explanation offered to him by his daughter and by Sheridan; and, moreover, + he knew that although there was a school for scandal located at Bath, yet + so highly was his daughter thought of in all circles, and so greatly was + young Sheridan liked, that no voice of calumny would be raised against + either of them when they returned with him. And even if it were possible + that some whisper, with its illuminating smile above the arch of a painted + fan, might be heard in the Assembly Rooms when some one mentioned the name + of Miss Linley in connection with that of young Sheridan and with the trip + to Lille, he felt convinced that such a whisper would be robbed of its + sting when every one knew that the girl and the boy and the father all + returned together and on the best terms to Bath. + </p> + <p> + As the events proved, he had every right to take even so sanguine a view + of the limitations of the range of the Pump Room gossips. On the return of + the three from Lille no one suggested that Sheridan and Miss Linley should + get married. No one except the scoundrel Mathews suggested that Sheridan + had acted badly or even unwisely, though undoubtedly he had given grounds + for such implications. The little party returned to Bath, and Miss Linley + fulfilled her concert and oratorio engagements, went into society as + before, and had at her feet more eligible suitors than had ever knelt + there. We have it on the authority of Charles Sheridan, the elder brother, + that in Bath the feeling was that Richard had acted as a man of honour in + taking the girl to the convent at Lille. Writing to their uncle, Mr. + Chamberlaine, he expressed surprise that “in this age when the world does + not abound in Josephs, most people are (notwithstanding the general + tendency of mankind to judge unfavourably) inclined to think that he + (Richard) acted with the strictest honour in his late expedition with Miss + L., when the circumstances might allow of their being very dubious on this + head without incurring the imputation of being censorious.” + </p> + <p> + This testimony as to what was the opinion in Bath regarding the expedition + is extremely valuable, coming as it does from one who was never greatly + disposed to take a brotherly or even a friendly view of Richard's conduct + at any time—coming as it does also from a man who had been in love + with Miss Linley. + </p> + <p> + At any rate this escapade of young Mr. Sheridan was the most fortunate for + him of any in which he ever engaged, and he was a man of many escapades, + for it caused Elizabeth Linley to fall in love with him, and never was a + man beloved by a sweeter or more faithful woman. To know how beautiful was + her nature one has only to look at her face in either of the great + portraits of her which are before us to-day. No characteristic of all that + is held to be good and gracious and sympathetic—in one word, that is + held to be womanly, is absent from her face. No man that ever lived was + worthy of such a woman; but if only men who are worthy of such women were + beloved by them, mankind would be the losers. She loved Sheridan with the + truest devotion—such devotion as might be expected from such a + nature as hers—and she died in the act of writing to him the + love-letter of a wife to her dearly loved husband. + </p> + <p> + They did not get married until a year after the date of their flight to + the Continent, and then they were described as bachelor and spinster. + Neither of them ever gave a hint, even in any of the numerous letters + which they exchanged during this period, that they had gone through the + ceremony of marriage at that village near Calais. More than once a + strained situation would have been relieved had it been possible to make + such a suggestion, for now and again each of the lovers grew jealous of + the other for a day or two. But neither said, “Pray remember that you are + not free to think of marrying any one. We are husband and wife, although + we were married in secret.” Neither of them could make such an assertion. + It would not have been true. What seems to us to be the truth is that it + was Sir Galahad who acted as protector to his sister when Richard Brinsley + Sheridan went with Elizabeth Linley to France. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE AMAZING DUELS + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HEN young Mr. + Sheridan returned to Bath after his happy little journey to France with + Miss Linley and back with Mr. Linley, he may have believed that the + incident was closed. He had done all that—and perhaps a little more + than—the most chivalrous man of experience and means could be + expected to do for the young woman toward whom he had stood in the + position of a protecting brother. He had conducted her to the convent at + Lille, on which she had set her heart, and he had been able to explain + satisfactorily to her father on his arrival at the hotel where he and Miss + Linley were sojourning in the meantime, what his intentions had been when + he had eloped with her from Bath. No doubt he had also acted as Miss + Linley's adviser in respect of those negotiations with her father which + resulted in the happy return of the whole family party to London. + </p> + <p> + In London he heard that Mathews, the scoundrel who had been pursuing Miss + Linley in the most disreputable fashion, was in town also, and that, + previous to leaving Bath, he had inserted in the Chronicle a defamatory + advertisement regarding him (Sheridan); and on this information coming to + his ears he put his pistols into his pocket and went in search of Mathews + at the lodgings of the latter. + </p> + <p> + Miss Sheridan tells us about the pistols in the course of her lucid + narrative, and states on her own responsibility that when he came upon + Mathews the latter was dreadfully frightened at the sight of one of the + pistols protruding from Sheridan's pocket. Mr. Fraser Rae, the competent + biographer of Sheridan, smiles at the lady's statement. “The sight of the + pistols would have alarmed Sheridan's sisters,” he says, “but it is in + accordance with probability that he (Mathews) expected a hostile meeting + to follow as a matter of course. He must have been prepared for it, and he + would have been strangely ignorant of the world in which he lived if he + had deemed it unusual.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0014" id="linkimage-0014"> </a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0301.jpg" alt="0301 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0301.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + But Mr. Fraser Rae was not so strangely ignorant of the world in which + Sheridan and Mathews lived as to fancy that there was nothing unusual in a + gentleman's going to ask another gentleman whom he believed to have + affronted him, for an explanation, with a pair of pistols in his pocket. + In the circumstances a duel would have been nothing unusual; but surely + Mr. Fraser Rae could not have fancied that Sheridan set out with the + pistols in his pocket in order to fight a duel with Mathews in the man's + lodgings, without preliminaries and without seconds. If Mathews caught + sight of the butt of a pistol sticking out of Sheridan's pocket he had + every reason to be as frightened as Miss Sheridan declared he was, for he + must have believed that his visitor had come to murder him. + </p> + <p> + At any rate, frightened or not frightened, pistols or no pistols, Mathews, + on being interrogated by Sheridan as to the advertisement in the <i>Bath + Chronicle</i>, assured him that he had been grossly misinformed as to the + character of the advertisement. It was, he affirmed, nothing more than an + inquiry after Sheridan, which the family of the latter had sanctioned. He + then, according to Miss Sheridan, expressed the greatest friendship for + his visitor, and said that he would be made extremely unhappy if any + difference should arise between them. + </p> + <p> + So young Mr. Sheridan, balked of his murderous intentions, returned with + unsullied pistols to his hotel, and set out for Bath with Miss Linley and + her father. + </p> + <p> + But if he fancied that Mathews had passed out of his life he was quickly + undeceived. Before he had time to take his seat at the family table he had + got a copy of the newspaper containing the advertisement, of the tenor of + which Mathews had told him in London he had been misinformed; and now his + sisters made him fully aware of the action taken by the same man on + learning of the flight of Sheridan and Elizabeth Linley. The result was + that he now perceived what every one should have known long before—namely, + that Mathews was a scoundrel, who should never have been allowed to obtain + the footing to which he had been admitted in the Sheridan and Linley + families. + </p> + <p> + It appears that the moment Mathews heard that Miss Linley had been carried + beyond his reach, he rushed to the Sheridans' house, and there found the + girls and their elder brother, who had been wisely communicated with by + the landlord, and had left his retirement in the farmhouse in the country + to take charge of the sisters in the absence of their brother Richard. + Mathews behaved like a madman—no unusual <i>rôle</i> for him—heaping + reproaches upon the absent member of the family, and demanding to be told + of his whereabouts. He seems to have been encouraged by Charles Sheridan, + who had unwisely said something in disparagement of his brother. Mathews + had the effrontery to avow his passion for Elizabeth Linley, and in the + bitterest terms to accuse Richard Sheridan of having acted basely in + taking her beyond his reach. + </p> + <p> + Then he hastened to Richard Sheridan's friend and confidant, a young man + named Brereton, and to him he sent messages of friendship and, possibly, + condolence to Mr. Linley, though his object in paying this visit was + undoubtedly not to endeavour to exculpate himself as regards Mr. Linley, + but to find out where the fugitives were to be found. He may have had + visions of pursuing them, of fighting a duel with Richard Sheridan, and if + he succeeded in killing him, of getting the girl at last into his power. + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Brereton not only did not reveal the whereabouts of his friend—he + knew that Sheridan meant to go to Lille, for he wrote to him there—but + he also refused to give his interrogator any sympathy for having failed to + accomplish the destruction of the girl. Brereton, indeed, seems to have + convinced him that the best thing he could do was to leave Bath as quickly + as possible. Mathews had probably by this time discovered, as Brereton + certainly had, that the feeling against him in Bath was profound. There + can be little doubt that in the course of the day Charles Sheridan became + aware of this fact also; he had only a few months before confessed himself + to be deeply in love with Elizabeth Linley, and when he heard that his + brother had run away with her he could not but have been somewhat incensed + against him, for Richard had not taken him into his confidence. By the + time his brother returned, however, any ill-feeling that Charles may have + felt had disappeared, and as Charles always showed himself to be a cool + and calculating gentleman—one who always kept an eye on the jumping + cat—it is not going too far to assume that his change of tone in + respect of his rather impetuous brother was due to his perception of the + trend of public opinion on the subject of the elopement. + </p> + <p> + Brereton had persuaded Mathews that there was nothing left for him but to + quit Bath; but before taking this step the latter had inserted in the <i>Bath + Chronicle</i> the advertisement of which Richard had heard, but which he + had not read when in London, thus leaving himself in no position to + contradict Mathews' assertion as to its amicable wording. + </p> + <p> + But now the newspaper was put into his hands by Charles, and he had an + opportunity of pronouncing an opinion on this point. It was dated + Wednesday, April the 8th, 1772, and it ran as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Richard S———— having attempted in a letter + left behind him for that purpose, to account for his scandalous method of + running away from this place by insinuations derogating from my character + and that of a young lady, innocent as far as relates to me, or my + knowledge, since which he has neither taken any notice of letters or even + informed his own family of the place where he has hid himself; I cannot + longer think he deserves the treatment of a gentleman, and in this public + method, to post him as a L———, and a treacherous S————. + </p> + <p> + “And as I am convinced there have been many malevolent incendiaries + concerned in the propagation of this infamous lie, if any of them, + unprotected by age, <i>infirmities</i>, or profession, they are to + acknowledge the part they have acted, and affirm <i>to</i> what they have + said <i>of</i> me, they may depend on receiving the proper reward of their + villainy, in the most public manner. The world will be candid enough to + judge properly (I make no doubt) of any private abuse on this subject for + the future, as nobody can defend himself from an accusation he is ignorant + of Thomas Mathews.” Such a piece of maundering imbecility as this had + probably never before appeared in a newspaper. It must have been read in + Bath with roars of laughter. But we do not hear that any of the ready + writers of the time and the town yielded to the temptation of commenting + upon the “malevolent incendiarism” of the composition. A man of the world, + had it been written about himself, would possibly have thought that its + illiteracy spoke for itself, and so would have refrained from making any + move in regard to it or its author. But one can imagine what effect + reading it would have upon a boy of Sheridan's spirit. For a youth of + twenty to find himself posted as a Liar and a Scoundrel, to say nothing of + a “malevolent incendiary,” and remain indifferent would be impossible. + Sheridan did not take long to make up his mind what he should do in the + circumstances. + </p> + <p> + The dramatic touch which his sister introduces in writing of Richard's + perusal of the paragraph is intensely true to nature. He simply put a word + or two to Charles relative to what Mathews had told him in London about + his, Sheridan's, family sanctioning the insertion of the advertisement. + Charles had no difficulty in vindicating his integrity on this point. + Richard knew perfectly well that it is one thing to say that a man has + acted too hastily, but quite another to suggest that that man is “a L——— + and a S————.” + </p> + <p> + So apparently the matter ended, and Richard continued chatting with his + sisters, giving no sign of what was in his mind. The girls went to their + beds, suspecting nothing. The next morning their two brothers were + missing! + </p> + <p> + Of course the girls were dreadfully alarmed. Some people in the house told + them that they had heard high words being exchanged between the brothers + after the girls had retired, and shortly afterwards the two former had + gone out together. The sister, in her narrative, mentions that she + received a hint or two of a duel between Richard and Charles, but she at + once put these suggestions aside. The poor girls must have been nearly + distracted. Certainly the house of Sheridan was passing through a period + of great excitement. The estimable head of the family was himself + expecting a crisis in his affairs as manager of the theatre in Dublin—Mr. + Thomas Sheridan was never far removed from a crisis—and in his + absence his young people were doing pretty much as they pleased. He had no + power of controlling them; all that he had to do with them was to pay + their bills. Neither of the sons was earning anything, and while one of + them was living as a man of fashion, the other had thought it well to cut + himself off from his sisters, taking lodgings at a farm some way out of + Bath It is the girls of the house for whom one feels most. Alicia, the + elder, was seventeen, Elizabeth was but twelve. They must have been + distracted. So would their father have been if he had had a chance of + learning all that was going on at Bath. + </p> + <p> + But, of course, when young gentlemen of spirit are falling in love with + beauteous maidens, and retiring to cure themselves by mingling with + pastoral scenes reminiscent of the gentle melancholy of Mr. Alexander + Pope's shepherds and shepherdesses (done in Dresden), every one of whom + murmurs mournfully and melodiously of a rejected suit—when young + gentlemen are running away with afflicted damsels and returning to fight + their enemies, they cannot be expected to think of the incidental expenses + of the business, which are to be defrayed by their father, any more than + of the distraction which takes possession of their sisters. + </p> + <p> + The two young gentlemen were missing, and had left for their sisters no + explanation of their absence—no hint as to the direction of their + flight. And there were other people in the house talking about the high + words that had been exchanged between the brothers at midnight. It is not + surprising that the poor girls should be distressed and distracted. + </p> + <p> + Considering that Miss Linley was the first cause of the excitement in the + midst of which the family had been living for some weeks, it was only + natural that the elder of the girls should send for her with a view to + have some light thrown on this new development of the heroic incident in + which Miss Linley had assisted. But Miss Linley, on being applied to, + affirmed that she knew nothing of the disappearance of the brothers, that + she had heard of nothing that should cause them to leave Bath at a + moment's notice. She was, unfortunately, a young woman of imagination. In + a crisis such a one is either very helpful, or very helpless. Poor Miss + Linley was the latter. She had just come through a great crisis in her own + life, and she had not emerged from it without suffering. It was too much + to ask her to face another in the family of her friends. She went off in a + fainting fit on hearing the news of the disappearance of the young men, + and her father left her in the hands of a medical man, and turned his + attention to the condition of Miss Sheridan, who was unable to walk back + to her home, and had to be put into a chair, Mr. Linley walking beside her + with her young sister. It is more than possible that Mr. Linley was + beginning to feel that he had had quite enough of the Sheridan family to + last him for the remainder of his life. + </p> + <p> + For two days nothing whatever was heard of the missing brothers. We have + no means of knowing if Miss Sheridan communicated to their father in + Dublin the mysterious story she had to tell; the chances are that she was + advised by Mr. Linley to refrain from doing so until she might have + something definite to tell him. Mr. Linley never had any particular regard + for the elder Sheridan, and he had no wish to have him summoned from his + theatre at Dublin to make his remarks about the dangerous attractiveness + of Elizabeth Linley, and the culpable carelessness of her father in + allowing her to be carried off to France by a young man without a penny + except what he got from his own father. + </p> + <p> + At any rate, Tom Sheridan did not leave his theatre or his pupils in + elocution, and there was no need for him to do so, for on Tuesday evening—they + had been missing on the Sunday morning—Dick and his brother + returned. They were both greatly fatigued, and said that they had not been + in bed since they had left Bath. This meant that Dick had actually not + slept in Bath since he had originally left the city in the company of Miss + Linley. Between the Friday and the Tuesday he had posted from London to + Bath with the Linleys, and had forthwith returned to London with his + brother and then back once more to Bath without a pause. He, at least, had + very good reason for feeling fatigued. + </p> + <p> + His first act was to hand his sister an apology which had been made to him + by Mathews. This document is worthy of being reprinted. It ran thus: + </p> + <p> + “Being convinced that the expressions I made use of to Mr. Sheridan's + disadvantage, were the effects of passion and misrepresentation, I intreat + what I have said to that gentleman's disadvantage, and particularly beg + his pardon for my advertisement in the <i>Bath Chronicle</i>. Th. + Mathews.” + </p> + <p> + He handed this document to his sister, and then it may be supposed that he + went to bed. He had certainly good need of a sleep. + </p> + <p> + Such is the drift of the story up to this point, as told by Mrs. Lefanu + (Elizabeth Sheridan), and it differs in some particulars from that told by + her brother Charles in a letter to their uncle, and, in a lesser degree, + from the account given of the whole transaction by Richard Sheridan + himself, who was surely in the best position to know exactly what happened + upon the occasion of his first visit to Mathews in London, as well as upon + the occasion of his second, made so hurriedly in the company of his + brother. + </p> + <p> + His second visit was, as might have been expected, the more exciting. It + included the fighting of a duel with Mathews. The humours of duelling have + been frequently dealt with in prose and comedy, and, assuredly the most + amusing of all is to be found in Richard Brinsley Sheridan's <i>The Rivals</i>. + One must confess, however, that the serious account given by the same + writer of his hostile meeting with Mathews, on his return from Bath, + suggests a much more ludicrous series of situations than are to be found + in his play. + </p> + <p> + In Sheridan's account he mentions that while still in France he received + “several abusive threats” from Mathews, and these had such an effect upon + him that he wrote to Mathews, swearing that he would not close his eyes in + sleep in England till he had treated Mathews as he deserved. In order to + carry out this vow he had actually sat up all night at Canterbury, where + his party halted on their way from Dover to London. He called upon Mathews + on arriving in London, at the latter's lodging in Crutched Friars; this + was at midnight, and the key of the door being mislaid, he had to wait two + hours before he was admitted. He found Mathews in bed, but he induced him + to rise and dress, though, in spite of his compliance as regards his + raiment, he complained bitterly of the cold. There does not seem to have + been any great suffering on Sheridan's part through a lack of heat. Then, + as his sister's narrative put it, the man declared that his visitor had + been grossly misinformed in regard to the libel in the Chronicle; and so + he left for Bath, as has already been stated. + </p> + <p> + And now comes the account given by Sheridan of the return visit, and, told + in his own laconic style, it suggests such comic situations as border on + farce. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. S.,” he wrote, “staid but three hours in Bath. He returned to London. + He sent to Mr. M. from Hyde Parck. He came with Captain Knight his second. + He objected frequently to the ground. They adjourned to the Hercules + Pillars. They returned to Hyde Parck. Mr. M. objected to the observation + of an officer. They returned to Hercules Pillars. They adjourned to the + Bedford Coffee house by agreement. Mr. M. was gone to the Castel Tavern. + Mr. S. followed with Mr. E. Mr. M. made many declarations in favour of Mr. + S. They engaged. Mr. M. was disarmed, Captain Knight ran in. Mr. M. begged + his life and afterwards denied the advantage. Mr. S. was provoked by the + (really well-meant) interposition of Captain Knight and the illusion of + Mr. M. He insisted since Mr. M. denied the advantage, that he should give + up his sword. Mr. M. denied, but sooner than return to his ground he gave + it up. It was broke, and Mr. M. offered another. He was then called on to + retract his abuse and beg Mr. S.'s pardon. With much altercation and much + ill grace he complied.” + </p> + <p> + The remainder of this remarkably succinct composition is devoted to the + subsequent misrepresentations of the transaction by Mathews, and by the + writer's appeal to the seconds to say if his version of the encounter was + not correct. + </p> + <p> + But whatever Mathews' account may have been it could scarcely be more + ludicrous than Sheridan's. The marching and countermarching of the four + gentlemen—it appears that brother Charles, although accompanying + Richard to London, thought it more prudent to remain under cover during + the actual engagement; he waited at Brereton's lodgings—the excuses + made by Mathews in order to get away without fighting, and then at the + last moment, the carrying out (by agreement) of a manouvre which landed + Mathews in one tavern and the rest of the party in another—the + set-to of the principals immediately after the “declarations” of one of + them in favour of the other, and the final catastrophe could hardly be + surpassed by the actions of a pair of burlesque duellists in what is + technically known as a “knockabout” entertainment. + </p> + <p> + And after all this scrupulousness of detail one is left in doubt as to the + exact <i>locale</i> of the encounter. Did it take place in the coffee-room + of the Castell Inn, or did the eager combatants retrace their steps to the + “parck”? The document written by Sheridan, though dealing very fully with + the forced marches of the army in the field, throws no light upon this + question of the scene of the battle. In respect of the signing of the + treaty of peace, and the payment of the indemnity, it is, however, + moderately lucid. Sheridan must have told his sister that Mathews signed + the apology immediately after the encounter; she states this in her + narrative. But Mathews did not merely sign the apology, he wrote every + word of it, as one may see by referring to the facsimile, thoughtfully + given in Mr. Fraser Rae's <i>Life of Sheridan</i>, and it would be + impossible to say that the caligraphy of the apology shows the least sign + of that perturbation from which one must believe the writer was suffering + at the moment. Its characteristic is neatness. It is in the fine + old-fashioned Italian hand. Even an expert, who sees possibilities—when + paid for it—in handwriting which would never occur to less + imaginative observers, would scarcely venture to say that this neat little + document was written by a man with another's sword at his throat. + </p> + <p> + This is another element in the mystery of the duel, and it cannot be said + that when we read the letter which the elder of the brothers wrote to his + uncle, giving his account of the whole business, we feel ourselves in a + clearer atmosphere. It really seems a pity that Mr. Browning did not make + another <i>Ring and the Book</i> series of studies out of this amazing + duel. Charles Sheridan told his uncle that an apology was given to Richard + by Mathews as a result of Richard's first visit to him in London, but when + Richard read the advertisement in the Chronicle, which was the original + casus belli, he considered this apology so inadequate that he set off for + London to demand another. Charles also mentions, what neither his brother + nor his sister had stated, that he himself, on reaching London on the + Sunday evening, went to Mathews to endeavour to get a suitable apology—according + to Richard's narrative Charles had good grounds for sending a challenge to + Mathews on his own account—but “after two hours' altercation” he + found that he had made no impression upon the man, so that his brother had + no alternative but to call him out. + </p> + <p> + But however the accounts of the lesser details of this affair of honour + may differ, there can be no question that public opinion in Bath was all + in favour of young Mr. Sheridan. It was acknowledged on every hand that he + had acted from the first—that is, from the moment he assumed the + duties of the protector of Miss Linley—with admirable courage, and + with a full sense of what honour demanded of him. In short he came back + from London, after so many sleepless nights, covered with glory. He was a + tall, handsome fellow of twenty, with brilliant eyes; he had run away with + the most beautiful girl in the world to save her from the clutches of a + scoundrel; he had had four nights without sleep, and then he had fought a + duel with the scoundrel and had obtained from him an apology for insertion + in the newspapers. Few young gentlemen starting life wholly without means + attain to so proud a position of achievement before they reach their + majority. + </p> + <p> + But of course all these feats of errantry and arms run up a bill. Young + Mr. Sheridan's posting account must have been by itself pretty formidable, + and, knowing that his father had never looked on him with the favour which + he gave to his brother, Richard may now and again have felt a trifle + uneasy at the prospect of meeting Mr. Sheridan. If his sister's memory is + to be trusted, however, this meeting took place within a week or two of + his duel, and no bones were broken. Mr. Sheridan had a few chiding words + to say respecting the debts which his son had incurred, but these he paid, + after obtaining from the boy the usual promise made under similar + conditions before a like tribunal. The prodigal invariably acts up to his + character for prodigality in the matter of promises of reform. + </p> + <p> + Richard Sheridan, being something of a wit, though we do not get many + examples of his faculty in the accounts extant of his early life, and + assuredly not a single example in any of his letters that came into the + hands of his biographers, may have sworn to his father never to run away + with a girl who might be anxious to enter upon a conventual life. At any + rate, his father did not show any great displeasure when he was made aware + of the boy's conduct, though it is worth noting that Mr. Sheridan took + exception to the general conviction that his son's act had been prompted + by the most chivalrous aspirations. + </p> + <p> + Mathews, however, had not yet been shaken off. He was back in Bath almost + as soon as the Sheridans, and “malevolent incendiarism” was in the air. No + slander was too base for him to use against Richard Sheridan, no + insinuation too vile. But the popularity of the object of his calumny was + now too firmly established in Bath to be shaken by the vaporous + malevolence of his enemy. Mathews, finding himself thoroughly discredited + in every quarter, did the only sensible thing recorded in his squalid + history—he ran away to his home in Wales. + </p> + <p> + He was here unfortunate enough to meet with a man named Barnard, or + Barnett, who acted upon him pretty much as Sir Lucius O'Trigger did upon + Squire Acres, explaining to him that it was quite impossible that the + affair between him and Sheridan should remain as it was. It was absolutely + necessary, he said, that another duel should take place. All the + “incendiarism” in Mathews' nature was aroused by the fiery words of this + man, and the precious pair hurried to Bath, where a challenge was sent to + Sheridan through the hands of his eldest sister, under the guise of an + invitation to some festivity. + </p> + <p> + Sheridan was foolish enough to accept the challenge apparently without + consulting with any one competent to advise him. According to his father + the challenge had been preceded by several letters of the most scurrilous + abuse. His wiser brother, who had just received an appointment as + Secretary to the British Legation in Sweden, had gone to London with their + father to make preparations for his departure for Stockholm, and + immediately on hearing of the duel he wrote to Richard a typical elder + brother's letter. It is dated July 3rd, 1772, so that, as the duel had + only taken place the previous day, it cannot be said that he lost much + time in expressing his deep sense of his brother's foolishness in meeting + so great a scoundrel for the second time. “All your friends have condemned + you,” he wrote. “You risked everything, where you had nothing to gain, to + give your antagonist the thing he wished, a chance for recovering his + reputation; he wanted to get rid of the contemptible opinion he was held + in, and you were good-natured enough to let him do it at your expense. It + is not a time to scold, but all your friends were of opinion you could, + with the greatest propriety, have refused to meet him.” + </p> + <p> + Without going into the question as to whether this sort of letter was the + ideal one for one brother to write to another who was lying on his bed + with several wounds in his throat, it is impossible to question the + soundness of the opinion expressed by Charles Sheridan in respect of + Richard's acceptance of Mathews' challenge. The challenge was, however, + accepted, and the duel took place on King's Down, at three o'clock in the + morning. Mathews' friend was Barnett, and Sheridan's a young gentleman + named Paumier, who, it was said, was quite unacquainted with the rules of + the game, and had never even seen a duel being fought. The accounts which + survive of this second meeting of Sheridan and Mathews make it apparent + that, if the first was a scene of comedy, this one was a tragic burlesque. + It is said that Sheridan, on the signal being given, at once rushed in on + his antagonist, endeavouring to disarm him as he had done upon the former + occasion of their meeting, but, tripping over something, he literally, and + not figuratively, fell upon the other, knocking him down with such + violence that he was not only disarmed, but his sword was broken as well. + Sheridan's own sword was also broken, so that one might fancy that the + meeting would have terminated here. It did nothing of the sort. The + encounter was only beginning, and anything more savagely burlesque than + the sequel could not be imagined. + </p> + <p> + The combatants must have rolled over, after the manner of the negro + duellists on the variety stage, and when they had settled themselves each + made a grab for the most serviceable fragment of his sword. Mathews being + the heavier man contrived to keep uppermost in the scuffle, and, what gave + him a decided advantage over his opponent, he managed to get his fingers + on the hilt of his broken weapon. An appeal at this stage was made by the + lad who was acting as Sheridan's second to put a stop to the fight; but + the second ruffian, or the ruffian's second—either description + applies to Barnett—declared that as both the antagonists were on the + ground one could not be said to have any advantage over the other. This + delicate question being settled, Mathews held the jagged, saw-like end—point + it had none—of the broken sword at the other's throat and told him + to beg for his life. Sheridan replied that he should refuse to beg his + life from such a scoundrel, and forthwith the scoundrel began jabbing at + his throat and face with the fragment of his weapon, a method of attack + which was not robbed of its butchery by the appeal that it makes to a + reader's sense of its comical aspect. + </p> + <p> + It is doubtful, however, if the comic side of the transaction appealed + very forcibly to the unfortunate boy who was being lacerated to death. He + just managed to put aside a thrust or two before the end of the blade + penetrated the flesh of his throat and pinned him to the ground. With a + chuckle and, according to Tom Sheridan's account, an oath, Mathews got + upon his feet, and, entering the coach which was waiting for him, drove + away from the scene of his butchery. Sheridan was thereupon raised from + the ground, and driven in his chaise with his second to the White Hart + Inn. Two surgeons were immediately in attendance, and it was found that + his wounds, though numerous, were not such as placed his life in jeopardy. + They were, however, sufficiently serious to prevent his removal to his + home that day. + </p> + <p> + It does not appear that young Paumier told the sisters of the occurrence; + but an account of the duel having appeared in the <i>Bath Chronicle</i> + the same afternoon, every one in the town must have been talking of it, + though Mrs. Lefanu says neither she nor her sister heard a word of the + matter until the next day. Then they hastened to the White Hart, and + prevailed upon the surgeons to allow them to take their brother home. In a + surprisingly short time he had quite recovered. Indeed, although there was + a report that Sheridan's life was despaired of, there was no excuse for + any one taking so gloomy a view of his hurts, for the exact truth was + known to Charles Sheridan and his father in London early on the day + following that of the fight. + </p> + <p> + The pathetic part of the story of this ludicrous encounter is to be found + in the story of the reception of the news by Elizabeth Linley. Her father + had read in some of the papers that Sheridan was at the point of death, + but, like the worldly-wise man that Mr. Linley was, he kept the news from + his daughter. They were at Oxford together, and she was announced to sing + at a concert, and he knew that had she learned all that the newspapers + published, she might possibly not be able to do herself—and her + father—justice. But, as one of the audience told his sister + afterwards, the fact that every one who had come to hear Miss Linley sing + was aware of the serious condition (as the papers alleged) of young + Sheridan, and of her attachment to him, a feeling of sympathy for the + lovely young creature added immeasurably to the interest of her + performance. + </p> + <p> + At the conclusion of the concert her father set out with her for Bath; and + it was not until they had almost reached their home that their chaise was + met by a clergyman named Pauton, and he summoned all his tact to enable + him to prepare Elizabeth Linley for the news which he was entrusted to + communicate to her. It is said that under the stress of her emotion the + girl declared that Richard Sheridan was her husband, and that her place + was by his side. + </p> + <p> + Whatever truth there may be in this story it is certain that if she + believed at that moment that Sheridan was her husband, she gave no sign of + continuing in that belief, for though her numerous letters to him show + that she was devoted to him, there is no suggestion in any of them that + she believed herself to be his wife. On the contrary, there are many + passages which prove that no idea of the sort was entertained by her. + </p> + <p> + The exertions of the heads of the two families were for long directed + against the union of the lovers. Mr. Linley felt more forcibly than ever + that he had had quite enough of the Sheridans, and Tom Sheridan doubtless + wished never to hear again the name of Linley. The one made his daughter + promise on her knees to give up Richard Sheridan, and Mr. Sheridan + compelled his son to forswear any association with Elizabeth Linley. Jove + must have been convulsed with laughter. Richard Brinsley Sheridan and + Elizabeth Ann Linley were married on the 13th of April, 1773. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A MELODRAMA AT COVENT GARDEN + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>N an evening in + April, 1779, the play, “<i>Love in a Village</i>” was being performed at + Covent Garden Theatre before a large audience. In the front row of the + boxes sat two ladies, one of them young and handsome, the other not so + young and not so beautiful—a dark-faced, dark-eyed woman whom no one + could mistake for any nationality except Italian. Three gentlemen who sat + behind them were plainly of their party—elegant gentlemen of + fashion, one of them an Irish peer. Every person of quality in the theatre + and a good many others without such a claim to distinction, were aware of + the fact that the most attractive member of the group was Miss Reay, a + lady whose name had been for several years closely associated—very + closely indeed—with that of Lord Sandwich, the First Lord of the + Admiralty, and one of the most unpopular men in England. She had driven to + the theatre in his lordship's carriage, and two of the gentlemen with whom + she conversed freely in the box were high officials of the department over + which his lordship presided. + </p> + <p> + Almost from the moment of her arrival, Miss Reay and her friends were + watched eagerly by a hollow-eyed, morose gentleman in black. He looked as + if he had not slept for many nights; and no one observing him could have + failed to perceive that he had come to the theatre not for the sake of the + play which was being performed, but to watch the lady. He kept his fierce + eyes fixed upon her, and he frowned every time that she turned to make a + remark to one of her friends; his eyes blazed every time that one of her + friends smiled over her shoulder, and his hands clenched if she smiled in + return. Several times it seemed as if he found it impossible to remain in + his place in the upper side box, where his seat was, for he started up and + hurried out to the great lobby, walking to and fro in great agitation. + More than once he strode away from the lobby into the Bedford Coffee House + just outside the theatre, and there partook of brandy and water, returning + after brief intervals to stare at Miss Reay and her companions in the + front row of the boxes. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0015" id="linkimage-0015"> </a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0327.jpg" alt="0327 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0327.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + At the conclusion of the play, he went hastily into the vestibule, + standing to one side, not far from the exit from the boxes; but if he + intended to be close to Miss Reay while she walked to the main exit, his + object was defeated by reason of the crush of people congregating in the + vestibule, the people of quality waiting for their carriages to be + announced, the others waiting for the satisfaction of being in such close + proximity to people of quality. + </p> + <p> + Among the crowd there was a lady who had recently become the wife of a + curious gentleman named Lewis, who some years later wrote a grisly book + entitled <i>The Monk</i>, bringing him such great fame as cancelled for + posterity the names of Matthew Gregory, given to him by his parents, and + caused him to be identified by the name of his book only. This lady made a + remark to her neighbour in respect of a lovely rose which Miss Reay was + wearing when she left the box exit and stood in the vestibule—a + beautiful rose early in the month of April might have excited remark in + those days; at any rate, Mrs. Lewis has left the record that at the very + moment of her speaking, the rose fell to the floor, and Miss Reay appeared + to be profoundly affected by this trifling incident, and said in a + faltering voice, “I trust that I am not to consider this as an evil omen!” + So Mrs. Lewis stated. + </p> + <p> + A few moments later Lord Sandwich's carriage was announced, and Miss Reay + and her companion made a move in the direction of the door. The gentlemen + of the party seem to have left earlier, for on the ladies being impeded by + the crush in the vestibule, a stranger, named Mr. Macnamara, of Lincoln's + Inn, proffered his services to help them to get to the carriage. Miss Reay + thanked him, took his arm, and the crowd opened for them in some measure. + It quickly opened wider under a more acute persuasion a few seconds later, + when the morose gentleman in black pushed his way among the people until + he was within a few feet of the lady and her escort. Only for a second did + he pause—certainly he spoke no word to Miss Reay or any one else—before + he pulled a pistol from his pocket and fired almost point-blank at her + before any one could knock up his hand. Immediately afterwards he turned a + second pistol against his own forehead and pulled the trigger, and fell to + the ground. + </p> + <p> + The scene that followed can easily be imagined. Every woman present + shrieked, except Miss Reay, who was supported by Mr. Macnamara. The + ghastly effects of the bullet were apparent not only upon the forehead of + the lady where it lodged, but upon the bespattered garments of every one + about the door, and upon the columns of the hall. Above the shrieks of the + terror-stricken people were heard the yells of the murderer, who lay on + the ground, hammering at his head with the butt end of his weapon, and + crying, “Kill me! Kill me!” + </p> + <p> + A Mr. Mahon, of Russell Street, who was said to be an apothecary, was the + first to lay a hand upon the wretched man. He wrested the pistol from his + grasp and prevented him from doing further mischief to himself. He was + quickly handed over to the police, and, with his unfortunate victim, was + removed to the Shakespeare Tavern, a surgeon named Bond being in prompt + attendance. It did not take long to find that Miss Reay had never breathed + after the shot had been fired at her; the bullet had smashed the skull and + passed through the brain. The man remained for some time unconscious, but + even before he recovered he was identified as James Hackman, a gentleman + who had been an officer in the army, and on retiring had taken Orders, + being admitted a priest of the Church of England scarcely a month before + his crime. There were rumours respecting his infatuation for Miss Reay, + and in a surprisingly short space of time, owing most likely to the + exertions of Signora Galli, the Italian whom Lord Sandwich had hired to be + her companion, the greater part of the romantic story of the wretched + man's life, as far as it related to Miss Reay, was revealed. + </p> + <p> + It formed a nine days' wonder during the spring of the same year (1779). + The grief displayed by Lord Sandwich on being made acquainted with the + circumstances of the murder was freely commented on, and the sympathy + which was felt for him may have diminished in some measure from his + unpopularity. The story told by Croker of the reception of the news by + Lord Sandwich is certainly not deficient in detail. “He stood as it were + petrified,” we are told, “till suddenly, seizing a candle, he ran upstairs + and threw himself on the bed, and in agony exclaimed, 'Leave me for a + while to myself, I could have borne anything but this!' The attendants + remained for a considerable time at the top of the staircase, till his + lordship rang the bell and ordered that they should all go to bed.” + </p> + <p> + Before his lordship left the scene of his grief in the morning Sir John + Fielding, the Bow Street magistrate, had arrived at the Shakespeare Tavern + from his house at Brompton, and, after a brief inquiry, ordered Hackman to + be taken to Tothill Fields Prison. In due course he was committed to + Newgate, and on April 16th his trial took place before Blackstone, the + Recorder. The facts of the tragedy were deposed to by several witnesses, + and the cause of the lady's death was certified by Mr. Bond, the surgeon. + The prisoner was then called on for his defence. He made a brief speech, + explaining that he would have pleaded guilty at once had he not felt that + doing so “would give an indication of contemning death, not suitable to my + present condition, and would in some measure make me accessory to a second + peril of my life. And I likewise thought,” he added, “that the justice of + my country ought to be satisfied by suffering my offence to be proved, and + the fact to be established by evidence.” + </p> + <p> + This curious affectation of a finer perception of the balance of justice + than is possessed by most men was quite characteristic of this man, as was + also his subsequent expression of his willingness to submit to the + sentence of the court. His counsel endeavoured to show that he had been + insane from the moment of his purchasing his pistols until he had + committed the deed for which he was being tried—he did not say + anything about “a wave of insanity,” however, though that picturesque + phrase would have aptly described the nature of his plea. He argued that a + letter which was found in the prisoner's pocket, and in which suicide only + was threatened, should be accepted as proof that he had no intention of + killing Miss Reay when he went to the theatre. + </p> + <p> + The Recorder, of course, made short work of such a plea. He explained to + the jury that “for a plea of insanity to be successful it must be shown + not merely that it was a matter of fits and starts, but that it was a + definite thing—a total loss of reason and incapability of reason.” + Referring to the letter, he said that it seemed to him to argue a coolness + and premeditation incompatible with such insanity as he described. + </p> + <p> + The result was, as might have been anticipated, the jury, without leaving + the box, found Hackman guilty, and he was sentenced to be hanged. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Boswell, who was nearly as fond of hearing death-sentences pronounced + as he was of seeing them carried out, was present in the court during the + trial, and to him Mr. Booth, the brother-in-law of the prisoner, applied—he + himself had been too greatly agitated to be able to remain in the court—for + information as to how Hackman had deported himself, and Boswell was able + to assure him that he had behaved “as well, sir, as you or any of his + friends could wish; with decency, propriety, and in such a manner as to + interest every one present. He might have pleaded that he shot Miss Reay + by accident, but he fairly told the truth that in a moment of frenzy he + did intend it.” + </p> + <p> + While he was in the condemned cell at Newgate he received a message from + Lord Sandwich to the effect that if he wished for his life, he (Lord + Sandwich) had influence with the King, and might succeed in obtaining a + commutation of his sentence. Hackman replied that he had no wish to live, + but he implored his lordship to give him such assurance that those whom + Miss Reay had left behind her would be carefully looked after, as would, + on meeting her in another world, enable him to make this pleasing + communication to her. + </p> + <p> + He spent the few days that remained to him in writing fervid letters to + his friends and in penning moralisings, in a style which was just the + smallest degree more pronounced than that which was fashionable at his + period—the style of the sentimental hero of Richardson and his + inferior followers. + </p> + <p> + His execution at Tyburn attracted the most enormous crowds ever seen upon + such an occasion. The carriage in which the wretched man was conveyed to + the gibbet could only proceed at a walking pace; but still, the vehicle + which followed it, containing the Earl of Carlisle and James Boswell, + arrived in good time for the final scene of this singular tragedy, which + for weeks, as the Countess of Ossory wrote to George Selwyn, was the sole + topic of conversation. + </p> + <p> + And, as a matter of course, Horace Walpole had something to communicate to + one of his carefully-selected correspondents. Oddly enough it was to a + parson he wrote to express the opinion that he was still uncertain + “whether our clergy are growing Mahometans or not”; adding sagely, “they + certainly are not what they profess themselves; but as you and I should + not agree, perhaps, in assigning the same defects to them, I will not + enter on a subject which I have promised you to drop, all I allude to now + is the shocking murder of Miss Reay by a divine. In my own opinion we are + growing more fit for Bedlam than for Mahomet's paradise. The poor + criminal, I am persuaded, is mad, and the misfortune is the law does not + know how to define the shades of madness; and thus there are twenty + out-pensioners of Bedlam for one that is confined.” + </p> + <p> + Most persons will come to the conclusion that the judge who tried Hackman + made a most successful attempt to expound to the jury exactly where the + law drew a line in differentiating between the man who should be sent to + Bedlam and the man who should be sent to Tyburn, and will agree with the + justice of the law that condemned to the gallows this divine of three + weeks' standing for committing an atrocious crime, even though the chances + are that Hackman spoke the truth when he affirmed that he had brought his + pistols down to the theatre with no more felonious intent than to blow out + his own brains in the presence of the lady and to fall dead at her feet. + At the same time one is not precluded from agreeing with Walpole's opinion + that the people of his period were growing more fit for Bedlam than for + Eblis. + </p> + <p> + The truth is that an extraordinary wave of what was called “sensibility” + was passing over England at that time. It was a wave of sentimentality—that + maudlin sentimentality which was the exquisite characteristic of the hero + and heroine of almost every novel that attained to any degree of success. + To people who have formed their ideas of the latter half of the eighteenth + century from studying Boswell's <i>Life of Johnson</i>, every page of + which shows a healthy common sense; or from the plates of Hogarth—robust + even to a point of vulgarity—it would seem incredible that there + should exist in England at practically the same time a cult of the maudlin + and the lachrymose. Such a cult had, however, obtained so great a hold on + a large section of society that all the satire of Smollett, Sterne, and + Goldsmith, was unable to ridicule it out of existence. + </p> + <p> + And the worst of the matter was that the types of these weeping + sentimentalists were not unreal. They began by being unreal, but in the + course of a short time they became real, the fact being that people in all + directions began to frame their conduct and their conversation upon these + flaccid creatures of the unhealthy fancy of third-rate novelists and + fourth-rate poetasters. More than once, it may be remarked, even in our + own time “movements” have had their origin in the fancy of a painter—in + one case of a subtle caricaturist. An artist possessed of a distorted + sense of what is beautiful in woman has been able to set a certain fashion + in the unreal, until people were well-nigh persuaded that it was the + painter who had taken the figures in his pictures from the persons who had + simply sought a cheap notoriety by adopting the pose and the dress of the + scraggy posturantes for whose anatomy he was responsible. + </p> + <p> + So it was that, when certain novel-writers in the eighteenth century, + having no experience of the life which they attempted to depict, brought + forth creatures out of their own unhealthy imaginations, and placed them + before their readers as types of heroes and heroines, the public never + failed to include quite a number of readers who were ready to live up to + all those essentials that constituted the personages of the fiction. + </p> + <p> + And not alone over England had the sighs of a perpetually sighing hero and + heroine sent a lachrymose flood; France and Germany, if not actually + inundated, were at least rendered humid by its influence. <i>The Sorrows + of Werther</i> was only one of the many books which helped on the cult of + the sentimental, and it was as widely read in England as in Germany. + Gessner's <i>Death of Abel</i> had an enormous vogue in its English + translation. The boarding-school version of the tale of Abelard and + Heloise was also much wept over both in France and Germany; and the true + story of James Hackman and Martha Reay, as recorded by the correspondence + of the pair, published shortly after the last scene in the tragedy had + been enacted, and reissued with connecting notes some twelve years ago, + might pass only as a somewhat crude attempt to surpass these masterpieces + of fancy-woven woes. James and Martha might have been as happy as + thousands of other Jameses and Marthas have been, but they chose to + believe that the Fates were bothering themselves with this particular case + of James and Martha—they chose to feel that they were doomed to a + life of sorrowful love—at any rate, this was Martha's notion—and + they kept on exchanging emotional sentiments until James's poor head gave + way, and he sought to end up their romance in accordance with the mode of + the best models, stretching himself a pallid corpse at the feet of his + Martha; but then it was that Fate put out a meddlesome finger, and so + caused the scene of the last chapter to take place at Tyburn. + </p> + <p> + The romance of Mr. Hackman and Miss Reay would never have taken place, if + Lord Sandwich had been as exemplary a husband as George III or Dr. Johnson + or Edmund Burke—the only exemplary husbands of the eighteenth + century that one can recall at a moment's notice. Unhappily his lordship + was one of the many examples of the unexemplary husband of that period. If + the Earl of Chesterfield advanced the ill-treatment of a wife to one of + the fine arts, it may be said that the Earl of Sandwich made it one of the + coarse. He was brutal in his treatment of the Countess, and never more so + than when he purchased the pretty child that Miss Reay must have been at + the age of thirteen, and had her educated to suit his tastes. He went + about the transaction with the same deliberation as a gourmand might + display in ordering his dinner. He was extremely fond of music, so he had + the child's education in this direction carefully attended to. His place + at Hinchinbrook had been the scene of the performance of several + oratorios, his lordship taking his place in the orchestra at the + kettledrums; and he hoped that by the time he should have his purchase + sent home, her voice would be equal to the demands put upon it by the most + exacting of the sacred soprano music of Handel or Gluck. + </p> + <p> + As it turned out he was not disappointed. Martha Reay, when she went to + live at Hinchinbrook at the age of eighteen, showed herself to be a most + accomplished young lady, as she certainly was a very charming one. She was + found to possess a lovely voice, and was quite fitted to take her place, + not merely in his lordship's music-room, but also in his drawing-room to + which he advanced her. To say that she was treated as one of his + lordship's family would be to convey a wrong impression, considering how + he treated the principal member of his family, but certainly he introduced + her to his guests, and she took her place at his table at dinner parties. + He even put her next to the wife of a bishop upon one occasion, feeling + sure that she would captivate that lady, and as it turned out, his + anticipations were fully realised; only the bishop's lady, on making + inquiries later on, protested that she was scandalised by being placed in + such a position as permitted of her yielding to the fascinations of a + young person occupying a somewhat equivocal position in the household. + </p> + <p> + It was when she was at Hinchinbrook, in October, 1775, that Miss Reay met + the man who was to play so important a part in her life—and death. + Cradock, the “country gentleman,” tells in his <i>Memoirs</i> the story of + the first meeting of the two. Lord Sandwich was anxious that a friend of + his own should be elected to a professorship at Cambridge, and Cradock, + having a vote, was invited to use it on behalf of his lordship's + candidate, and to stay for a night at Hinchinbrook on his way back to + London. He travelled in Lord Sandwich's coach, and when in the act of + driving through the gateway at Hinchinbrook, it overtook a certain Major + Reynolds and another officer who was stationed on recruiting duty in the + neighbourhood. Lord Sandwich, being acquainted with Reynolds, dismounted + and invited him and his friend to a family dinner at his lordship's place + that evening. Major Reynolds expressed his appreciation of this act of + courtesy, and introduced his friend as Captain Hackman. The party was a + simple affair. + </p> + <p> + It consisted of Lord Sandwich, Miss Reay, another lady, the two officers, + and Mr. Cradock. After coffee had been served two rubbers of whist were + played, and the party broke up. + </p> + <p> + This was the first meeting of Hackman and Miss Reay. They seem to have + fallen in love immediately, each with the other, for the first letter in + the correspondence, written in December, 1775, contains a good deal that + suggests the adolescence of a passion. Hackman was a man of education and + some culture, and he showed few signs of developing into that maudlin + sentimentalist who corresponded with the lady a year or two later. He was + but twenty-three years of age, the son of a retired officer in the navy, + who had sent him to St. John's College, Cambridge, and afterwards bought + him a commission in the 68th Foot. He was probably only an ensign when he + was stationed at Huntingdon, but being in charge of the recruiting party, + enjoyed the temporary rank of captain. + </p> + <p> + He must have had a pretty fair conceit of his own ability as a + correspondent, for he kept a copy of his love letters. Of course, there is + no means of ascertaining if he kept copies of all that he ever wrote; he + may have sent off some in the hot passion of the moment, but those which + passed into the hands of his brother-in-law and were afterwards published, + were copies which he had retained. Miss Reay was doubtless discreet enough + to destroy the originals before they had a chance of falling into the + hands of Lord Sandwich. It is difficult for us who live in this age of + scrawls and “correspondence cards” to imagine the existence of that + enormous army of letter-writers who flourished their quills in the + eighteenth century, for the entertainment of their descendants in the + nineteenth and twentieth; but still more difficult is it to understand + how, before the invention of any mechanical means of reproducing + manuscript, these voluminous correspondents first made a rough draft of + every letter, then corrected and afterwards copied it, before sending it—securing + a frank from a friendly Member of Parliament—to its destination. + </p> + <p> + Superlatively difficult is it to imagine an ardent lover sitting down to + transcribe into the pages of a notebook the outpourings of his passion. + But this is what Ensign Hackman did, although so far as the consequences + of his love-making were concerned, he is deserving of a far higher place + among great lovers than Charlotte's Werther, or Mr. Swinburne's Dolores. + Charlotte we know “went on cutting bread and butter” after the death of + her honourable lover; but poor little Miss Reay was the victim of the + passion which she undoubtedly fanned into a flame of madness. Ensign + Hackman made copies of his love-letters, and we are grateful to him, for + by their aid we can perceive the progress of his disease. They are like + the successive pictures in a biograph series lately exhibited at a + conversazione of the Royal Society, showing the development of a blossom + into a perfect flower. We see by the aid of these letters how he gave way + under the attack of what we should now call the bacillus of that maudlin + sentimentality which was in the air in his day. + </p> + <p> + He began his love-letters like a gallant officer, but ended them in the + strain of the distracted curate who had been jilted just when he has laid + down the cork lino in the new study and got rid of the plumbers. He wrote + merrily of his “Corporal Trim,” who was the bearer of a “billet” from her. + “He will be as good a soldier to Cupid as to Mars, I dare say. And Mars + and Cupid are not now to begin their acquaintance, you know.” Then he goes + on to talk in a fine soldierly strain of the drum “beating for volunteers + to Bacchus. In plain English, the drum tells me dinner is ready, for a + drum gives us bloody-minded heroes an appetite for eating as well as for + fighting.... Adieu—whatever hard service I may have after dinner, no + quantity of wine shall make me let drop or forget my appointment with you + tomorrow. We certainly were not seen yesterday, for reasons I will give + you.” + </p> + <p> + This letter was written on December 7th, and it was followed by another + the next day, and a still longer one the day following. In fact, Corporal + Trim must have been kept as busy as his original in the service of Uncle + Toby, during the month of December, his duty being to receive the lady's + letters, as well as to deliver the gentleman's, and he seems to have been + equally a pattern of fidelity. + </p> + <p> + Hackman's letters at this time were models of good taste, with only the + smallest amount of swagger in them. His intentions were strictly + honourable, and they were not concealed within any cocoon of sentimental + phraseology. One gathers from his first letters that he was a simple and + straightforward gentleman, who, having fallen pretty deeply in love with a + young woman, seeks to make her his wife at the earliest possible moment. + Unfortunately however, the lady had fallen under the influence of the + prevailing affectation, and her scheme of life did not include a + commonplace marriage with a subaltern in a marching regiment. One might be + disposed to say that she knew when she was well off. The aspiration to be + made “a respectable woman” by marriage in a church was not sufficiently + strong in her to compel her to sacrifice the many good things with which + she was surrounded, in order to realise it. But, of course, she was ready + to pose as a miserable woman, linked to a man whom she did not love, but + too honourable to leave him, and far too thoughtful for the career of the + man whom she did love with all her soul ever to become a burden to him. + She had read the ballad of “Auld Robin Gray”—she quoted it in full + in one of her letters—and she was greatly interested to find how + closely her case resembled that of the wife in the poem. She had brought + herself to think of the man who had bought her just as he would buy a + peach tree, or a new tulip, as her “benefactor.” Did she not owe to him + the blessing of a good education, and the culture of her voice, her + knowledge of painting—nay, her “keep” for several years, and her + introduction to the people of quality who visited at Hinchinbrook and at + the Admiralty? She seemed to think it impossible for any one to doubt that + Lord Sandwich had acted toward her with extraordinary generosity, and that + she would be showing the most contemptible ingratitude were she to forsake + so noble a benefactor. But all the same she found Hinchinbrook intolerably + dull at times, and she was so pleased at the prospect of having a lover, + that she came to fancy that she loved the first one who turned up. + </p> + <p> + She was undoubtedly greatly impressed by the ballad of “Auld Robin Gray,” + and she at once accepted the rôle of the unhappy wife, only she found it + convenient to modify one rather important line— + </p> + <p> + “I fain would think o' Jamie, but that would be a sin.” + </p> + <p> + She was fain to think on her Jamie whether it was a sin or not, but she + did so without having the smallest intention of leaving her Auld Robin + Gray. So whimsical an interpretation of the poem could scarcely occur to + any one not under the influence of the sentimental malady of the day; but + it served both for Miss Reay and her Jamie. They accepted it, and became + deeply sensible of its pathos as applied to themselves. Ensign Hackman + assured her that he was too high-minded to dream of making love to her + under the roof of Lord Sandwich, her “benefactor.” + </p> + <p> + “Our love, the inexorable tyrant of our hearts,” he wrote, “claims his + sacrifices, but does not bid us insult his lordship's walls with it. How + civilly did he invite me to Hinchinbrook in October last, though an + unknown recruiting officer. How politely himself first introduced me to + himself! Often has the recollection made me struggle with my passion. + Still it shall restrain it on this side honour.” + </p> + <p> + This was in reply to her remonstrance, and probably she regretted that she + had been so strenuous in pointing out to him how dreadful it would be were + she to show herself wanting in gratitude to Lord Sandwich. She wanted to + play the part of Jenny, the lawful wife of Robin Gray, with as few + sacrifices as possible, and she had no idea of sacrificing young Jamie, + the lover, any more than she had of relinquishing the many privileges she + enjoyed at Hinchinbrook by making Jamie the lover into Jamie the husband. + </p> + <p> + It is very curious to find Hackman protesting to her all this time that + his passions are “wild as the torrent's roar,” apologising for making his + simile water when the element most congenial to his nature was fire. + “Swift had water in his brain. I have a burning coal of fire; your hand + can light it up to rapture, rage, or madness. Men, real men, have never + been wild enough for my admiration, it has wandered into the ideal world + of fancy. Othello (but he should have put himself to death in his wife's + sight, not his wife), Zanga are my heroes. Milk-and-water passions are + like sentimental comedy.” + </p> + <p> + Read in the light of future events this letter has a peculiar + significance. Although he became more sentimental than the hero of any of + the comedies at which he was sneering, he was still able to make an honest + attempt to act up to his ideal of Othello. “<i>He should have put himself + to death in his wife's sight</i>.” It will be remembered that he pleaded + at his trial that he had no design upon the life of Miss Reay, but only + aimed at throwing himself dead at her feet. + </p> + <p> + Equally significant are some of the passages in the next letters which he + wrote to her. They show that even within the first month of his + acquaintance with his Martha his mind had a peculiar bent. He was giving + his attention to Hervey's <i>Meditations</i>, and takes pains to point out + to her two passages which he affirms to be as fine as they are natural. + Did ever love-letter contain anything so grisly? “A beam or two finds its + way through the grates (of the vault), and reflects a feeble glimness from + the nails of the coffins.” This is one passage—ghastly enough in all + conscience. But it is surpassed by the others which he quotes: “Should the + haggard skeleton lift a clattering hand.” Respecting the latter he + remarks, “I know not whether the epithet 'haggard' might not be spared.” + It is possible that the lady on receiving this curious love-letter was + under the impression that the whole passage might have been spared her. + </p> + <p> + But he seems to have been supping off horrors at this time, for he goes on + to tell a revolting story about the black hole of Calcutta; and then he + returns with zest to his former theme of murder and suicide. He had been + reading the poem of “Faldoni and Teresa,” by Jerningham, and he criticises + it quite admirably. “The melancholy tale will not take up three words, + though Mr. J. has bestowed upon it 335 melancholy lines,” he tells the + young lady. “Two lovers, meeting with an invincible object to their union, + determined to put an end to their existence with pistols. The place they + chose for the execution of their terrible project was a chapel that stood + at a little distance from the house. They even decorated the altar for the + occasion, they paid a particular attention to their own dress. Teresa was + dressed in white with rose-coloured ribbands. The same coloured ribbands + were tied to the pistols. Each held the ribband that was fastened to the + other's trigger, which they drew at a certain signal.” His criticism of + the poem includes the remark that Faldoni and Teresa might be prevented + from making proselytes by working up their affecting story so as to take + off the edge of the dangerous example they offer. This, he says, the + author has failed to do, and he certainly proves his point later by + affirming that “while I talk of taking off the dangerous edge of their + example, they have almost listed me under their bloody banners.” + </p> + <p> + This shows the morbid tendency of the man's mind, though it must be + confessed that nearly all the remarks which he makes on ordinary topics + are eminently sane and well considered. + </p> + <p> + A few days later we find him entering with enthusiasm into a scheme, + suggested by her, of meeting while she was on her way to London, and it is + plain from the rapturous letter which he wrote to her that their plot was + successful; but when she reached town she had a great deal to occupy her, + so that it is not strange she should neglect him for a time. The fact was, + as Cradock states in his <i>Memoirs</i>, that the unpopularity of Lord + Sandwich and Miss Reay had increased during the winter to such a point + that it became dangerous for them to show themselves together in public. + Ribald ballads were sung under the windows of the Admiralty, and Cradock + more than once heard some strange insults shouted out by people in the + park. It was at this time that she spoke to Cradock about appearing in + opera, and he states that it reached his ears that she had been offered + three thousand pounds and a free benefit (a possible extra five hundred) + for one season's performances. + </p> + <p> + Now if she had really been in love with Hackman this was surely the moment + when she should have gone to him, suffered him to marry her, and thus made + up by a few years on the lyric stage for any deficiency in his fortune or + for the forfeiture of any settlement her “benefactor” might have been + disposed to make in her favour. But she seems to have shown a remarkable + amount of prudence throughout the whole of her intrigue, and she certainly + had a premonition of the danger to which she was exposed by her connection + with him. “Fate stands between us,” she wrote in reply to one of his + impetuous upbraiding letters. “We are doomed to be wretched. And I, every + now and then, think some terrible catastrophe will be the result of our + connection. 'Some dire event,' as Storge prophetically says in <i>Jephtha</i>, + 'hangs over our heads.' Oh, that it were no crime to quit this world like + Faldoni and Teresa... by your hand I could even die with pleasure. I know + I could.” + </p> + <p> + An extraordinary premonition, beyond doubt, to write thus, and one is + tempted to believe that she had ceased for a moment merely to play the + part of the afflicted heroine. But her allusion to Jephtha and, later in + the same letter, to a vow which she said she had made never to marry him + so long as she was encumbered with debts, alleging that this was the + “insuperable reason” at which she had hinted on a previous occasion, makes + one suspicious. One feels that if she had not been practising the music of + <i>Jephtha</i> she would not have thought about her vow not to marry him + until she could go to him free from debt. Why, she had only to sing three + times to release herself from that burden. + </p> + <p> + Some time afterwards she seems to have suggested such a way of getting + over her difficulties, but it is pretty certain she knew that he would + never listen to her. Her position at this time was undoubtedly one of + great difficulty. Hackman was writing to her almost every day, and + becoming more high-minded and imperious in every communication, and she + was in terror lest some of his letters should fall into the hands of Lord + Sandwich. She was ready to testify to his lordship's generosity in + educating her to suit his own tastes, but she suspected its strength to + withstand such a strain as would be put on it if he came upon one of Mr. + Hackman's impetuous letters. + </p> + <p> + She thought that when she had induced her lover to join his regiment in + Ireland she had extricated herself from one of the difficulties that + surrounded her; and had she been strong enough to refrain from writing to + the man, she might have been saved from the result of her indiscretion. + Unhappily for herself, however, she felt it incumbent on her to resume her + correspondence with him. Upon one occasion she sent him a bank-note for + fifty pounds, but this he promptly returned with a very proper letter. + Indeed, all his letters from Ireland are interesting, being far less + impassioned than those which she wrote to him. Again she mentioned having + read <i>Werther</i>, and he promptly begged of her to send the book to + him. “If you do not,” he adds, “I positively never will forgive you. + Nonsense, to say it will make me unhappy, or that I shall not be able to + read it! Must I pistol myself because a thick-blooded German has been fool + enough to set the example, or because a German novelist has feigned such a + story?” + </p> + <p> + But it would appear that she knew the man's nature better than he himself + did, for she quickly replied: “The book you mention is just the only book + you should never read. On my knees I beg that you will never, never read + it!” But if he never read <i>Werther</i> he was never without some story + of the same type to console him for its absence, and he seems to have + gloated over the telling of all to her. One day he is giving her the + particulars of a woman who committed suicide in Enniskillen because she + married one man while she was in love with another. His comment is, “She, + too, was <i>Jenny</i> and had her <i>Robin Gray</i>.” His last letter from + Ireland was equally morbid. In it he avowed his intention, if he were not + granted leave of absence for the purpose of visiting her, of selling out + of his regiment. He kept his promise but too faithfully. He sold out and + crossed to England without delay, arriving in London only to find Miss + Reay extremely ill. + </p> + <p> + His attempts to cheer her convalescence cannot possibly be thought very + happy. He describes his attendance upon the occasion of the hanging of Dr. + Dodd, the clergyman who had committed forgery; and this reminds him that + he was unfortunately out of England when one Peter Tolosa was hanged for + killing his sweetheart, so that he had no chance of taking part in this + ceremony as well, although, he says, unlike George S.—meaning Selwyn—he + does not make a profession of attending executions; adding that “the + friend and historian of Paoli hired a window by the year, looking out on + the Grass Market in Edinburgh, where malefactors were hanged.” This + reference to Boswell is somewhat sinister. All this letter is devoted to a + minute account of the execution of Dodd, and another deals with the + revolting story of the butchery of Monmouth, which he suggests to her as + an appropriate subject for a picture. + </p> + <p> + At this time he was preparing for ordination, and, incidentally, for the + culmination of the tragedy of his life. He had undoubtedly become a + monomaniac, his “subject” being murder and suicide. His last lurid story + was of a footman who, “having in vain courted for some time a servant + belonging to Lord Spencer, at last caused the banns to be put up at church + without her consent, which she forbad. Being thus disappointed he + meditated revenge, and, having got a person to write a letter to her + appointing a meeting, he contrived to waylay her, and surprise her in Lord + Spencer's park. On her screaming he discharged a pistol at her and made + his escape.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh love, love, canst thou not be content to make fools of thy slaves,” he + wrote, “to make them miserable, to make them what thou pleasest? Must thou + also goad them on to crimes?” + </p> + <p> + Only two more letters did he write to his victim. He took Orders and + received the living of Wiveton, in Norfolk, seeming to take it for granted + that, in spite of her repeated refusals to marry him, she would relent + when she heard of the snug parsonage. This was acting on precisely the + same lines as the butler of whom he wrote. When he found that Miss Reay + was determined to play the part taken by the servant in the same story, + the wretched man hurried up to London and bought his pistols. + </p> + <p> + The whole story is a pitiful one. That the man was mad no one except a + judge and jury could doubt. That his victim was amply punished for her + indiscretion in leading him on even the strictest censor of conduct must + allow. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE COMEDY AT DOWNING STREET + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was possibly + because she was still conscious of having occupied the commanding position + of one of the royal bridesmaids, in spite of the two years that had + elapsed since King George III married his homely Mecklenburg princess, + that Lady Susan Fox-Strangways, the daughter of the first Earl of + Ilchester, became so autocratic during the rehearsal of the Downing Street + Comedy. A pretty fair amount of comedy as well as tragedy—with a + preponderance of farce—has been played in the same street from time + to time, but the special piece in which Lady Susan was interesting herself + was to be played at the house of Sir Francis Délavai, and its name was <i>The + School for Lovers</i>. It had been originally produced by Mr. David + Garrick at Drury Lane Theatre, an occasion upon which a young Irish + gentleman called O'Brien, who had disgraced himself by becoming an actor, + had attained great distinction. The piece had drawn the town during its + protracted run of eight nights, and Sir Francis Delaval's company of + amateurs perceived that it was just the play for them. It was said by the + critics that, for the first time for many years, an actor had been found + capable of playing the part of a gentleman of fashion as if to the manner + born. They referred to the acting of Mr. O'Brien, about whose gentlemanly + qualities there could be no doubt. Even his own brother actors affirmed + that no such perfect gentleman as that of O'Brien's creating had ever been + seen on the stage. So said Lee Lewes. Another excellent judge, named + Oliver Goldsmith, declared that William O'Brien was an elegant and + accomplished actor. + </p> + <p> + Of course this was the character, every aspiring amateur affirmed, to + which a gentleman-born would do ample justice. When O'Brien, who was an + actor, had represented the part with distinction, how much better would it + not be played by the real thing—the real gentleman who might + undertake it? + </p> + <p> + That was the very plausible reasoning of the “real gentleman” who hoped to + win applause by appearing in O'Brien's part in the comedy at Downing + Street. But when the piece was rehearsed with the young Viscount B———— + in the character, Lady Susan threw up her hands, and threatened to throw + up her part as well. + </p> + <p> + “Lud!” she cried to her associates in the temporary green-room, “Lud! you + would fancy that he had never seen a gentleman of fashion in his life! Why + cannot he act himself instead of somebody else? When he comes from + rehearsal he is the very character itself, but the moment he begins to + speak his part he is no more the part than the link-boy.” + </p> + <p> + Every one present agreed with her—the young gentlemen who were + anxious to have the reversion of the part were especially hearty in their + acquiescence. + </p> + <p> + But there could be no doubt about the matter, Lord B——— + was deplorably incompetent. He was not even consistently incompetent, for + in one scene in the second act, where there was an element of boisterous + humour, he was tame and spiritless; but in the love-making scene, which + brought the third act to a close, he was awkward, and so anxious to show + his spirit that he became as vulgar as any country clown making advances + to his Meg or Polly. + </p> + <p> + And of course he felt all the time that he was doing amazingly well. + </p> + <p> + Lady Susan was angry at first, and then she became witty. Her sallies, + directed against him in every scene, were, however, lost upon him, no + matter how calculated they were to sting him; he was too self-satisfied to + be affected by any criticism that might be offered to him by man or woman. + </p> + <p> + And then Lady Susan was compelled to abandon her wit and to become + natural. She flounced off the stage when her lover (in the play) was more + than commonly loutish, and burst into tears of vexation in the arms of her + dear friend Lady Sarah Lennox. + </p> + <p> + “I never had such a chance until now,” she cried. “Never, oh, never! The + part might have been written for me; and I implore of you, Sarah, to tell + me candidly if Mrs. Abington or Mrs. Clive could act it with more + sprightliness than I have shown in that last scene?” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible, my sweet Sue!” cried her friend. “I vow that I have never + seen anything more arch than your mock rejection of your lover, only to + draw him on.” + </p> + <p> + “You dear creature!” cried Lady Sue. “You are a true friend and a + competent critic, Sarah. But what signifies my acting, perfect though it + be, when that—that idiot fails to respond in any way to the spirit + which I display? The whole play will be damned, and people who know + nothing of the matter will spread the report that 'twas my lack of power + that brought about the disaster.” + </p> + <p> + “They cannot be so vile,” said Lady Sarah soothingly. + </p> + <p> + “But they will. I know how vile some of our friends can be when it suits + them, and when they are jealous of the acquirements of another. They will + sneer at my best scenes—oh, the certainty that they will do so will + be enough to make my best scenes fail. But no! they shall not have the + chance of maligning me. I will go to Sir Francis and resign my part. Yes, + I will! I tell you I shall!” + </p> + <p> + The indignant young lady, with something of the stage atmosphere still + clinging to her, flung herself with the gesture of a tortured heroine, + proud and passionate, toward the door of the room to which the two ladies + had retired. But before she had her fingers on the handle the door opened + and Sir Francis Délavai entered. + </p> + <p> + “A thousand pardons, my dear ladies,” he cried, bowing to the carpet. “I + had forgot for the moment that when a man turns his house into a theatre + he can call no room in it his own. But I should be a churl to suggest that + any room in my poor house would not be made beautiful by the presence of + your ladyships. After all, this is only my library, and a library is only + a polite name for a dormitory, and a—but what is this? I said not a + lacrymatory.” + </p> + <p> + He was looking curiously into Lady Susan's face, which retained the marks + of her recent tears. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Sir Francis, you have come in good time,” said Lady Sarah boldly. + “Here is this poor child weeping her heart out because she is condemned to + play the part of—of what's her name?—the lady in the play who + had to make love to an ass?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir, mine is a far worse plight,” said Lady Susan, pouting. “It were + bad enough for one to have to make love to an ass, but how much worse is't + not for one to be made love to by—by—my Lord B———?” + </p> + <p> + “That were a calculation far above my powers,” said Sir Francis. “My lord + has never made love to me, but if rumour and the gossip at White's speak + even a soupçon of truth, his lordship is well practised in the art—if + love-making is an art.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, 'tis a combination of all the arts,” said Lady Susan; “and yet my + lord cannot simulate the least of them, which is that of being a + gentleman, when he makes love to me on the stage, through the character of + Captain Bellaire in our play.” + </p> + <p> + “To be plain, Sir Francis,” said Lady Sarah, as though the other had not + been plain enough in her explanation, “To be plain, Lady Susan, rather + than be associated in any measure with such a failure as your theatricals + are bound to be if my Lord B——— remains in the part of + her lover, has made up her mind to relinquish her part. But believe me, + sir, she does so with deep regret.” + </p> + <p> + “Hence these tears,” said Sir Francis. “My poor child, you are indeed in a + pitiable state if you are so deeply chagrined at a clumsy love-making + merely on the stage.” + </p> + <p> + “Merely on the stage?” cried Lady Susan. “Lud, Sir Francis, have you not + the wit to see that to be made love to indifferently on the stage is far + more unendurable than it would be in private, since in the one case you + have the eyes of all the people upon you, whereas in the other case you + are as a rule alone?” + </p> + <p> + “As a rule,” said Sir Francis. “Yes, I perceive the difference, and I + mingle mine own turgid tears with your limpid drops. But we cannot spare + you from our play.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you cannot, Sir Francis, but you can spare Lord B———, + and so can the play,” suggested Lady Sarah. + </p> + <p> + “What, you would have me turn him out of the part?” said Sir Francis. + </p> + <p> + “Even so—but with politeness,” said Lady Sarah. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps your ladyship has solved the problem how to kick a man out of + your house politely. If so, I would willingly pay you for the recipe; I + have been in search of it all my life,” said Sir Francis. + </p> + <p> + “Surely, sir, if you kick a man hard enough with your slippers on he will + leave your house as surely as if you wear the boots of a Life Guardsman,” + said Lady Susan timidly. + </p> + <p> + “I doubt it not, madam; but before trying such an experiment it would be + well to make sure that the fellow does not wear boots himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Psha! Sir Francis. If a man were to beg leave to measure the thickness of + his enemy's soles before offering to kick him there would be very few + cases of assault and battery,” cried Lady Susan. + </p> + <p> + “That is good philosophy—see what we have come to—philosophy, + when we started talking of lovemaking,” said Sir Francis. + </p> + <p> + “However we have digressed in conversation, sir, our minds remain + steadfast on the point round which we have been circling,” said Lady + Sarah. + </p> + <p> + “And that is———” + </p> + <p> + “That Lord B———must go.” + </p> + <p> + The door was thrown open and Lord B——— entered. + </p> + <p> + “A good preliminary—one must come before one goes,” whispered Sir + Francis to the ladies. + </p> + <p> + His lordship was evidently perturbed. He scarcely bowed either to Sir + Francis or the ladies. + </p> + <p> + “I was told that you had come hither, Sir Francis,” he said, “so I + followed you.” + </p> + <p> + “You do me honour, my lord,” said Sir Francis. + </p> + <p> + “I took a liberty, sir; but this is not a time for punctilio. I have come + to resign my part in your play, sir,” said his lordship. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, surely not, my lord,” cried Sir Francis. “What would the <i>School + for Lovers</i> be without Bellaire, my lord? Why only now Lady Susan was + saying—what is it that your ladyship said?” + </p> + <p> + “It had something to do with philosophy and the sole of a grenadier,” said + Lady Sarah interposing. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, was it not that his lordship's impersonation made you think of a + scene from <i>Midsummer Night's Dream?</i>” said Sir Francis. “One of the + most beautiful of Shakespeare's plays, is't not, my lord?—fantasy + mingled with irony, an oasis of fairyland in the midst of a desert of + daily life.” + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing about your fairyland, sir, but I have been told within the + hour that her ladyship”—he bowed in the direction of Lady Susan—“has, + during the three rehearsals which we have had of the play, been sneering + in a covert way at my acting of the part of Bellaire, although to my face + she seemed delighted, and thus——” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure that your informant was right in his interpretation of her + ladyship's words? Surely your lordship—a man of the world—would + have been sensible of every shade of her ladyship's meaning?” + </p> + <p> + “I have been told by one on whose judgment I can rely that Lady Susan was + speaking in sarcasm when she complimented me before the rest of the + company. I did not take her as doing so for myself, I must confess. I have + always believed—on insufficient evidence, I begin to fear—that + her ladyship was a discriminating critic—even now if she were to + assure me that she was not speaking in sarcasm——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, lud! he is relenting,” whispered Lady Sarah. + </p> + <p> + “Did you speak, madam?” said his lordship. + </p> + <p> + “I was protesting against a too early exercise of your lordship's + well-known spirit of forgiveness,” said her ladyship. + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, Lady Sarah; I am, I know, too greatly inclined to take a + charitable view of—of—Why, sink me if she, too, is not trying + to make me look ridiculous!” cried his lordship. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, my lord, I cannot believe that Lady Sarah would be at the pains to + do for you what you can so well do for yourself,” remarked Lady Susan. + </p> + <p> + His lordship looked at her—his mouth was slightly open—then he + gazed at the smiling features of the beautiful Lady Sarah, lastly at the + perfectly expressionless features of Sir Francis. + </p> + <p> + “A plot—a plot!” he murmured. Then he struck a commonplace + theatrical attitude, the “exit attitude” of the man who tells you that his + time will come, though appearances are against him for the moment. He + pointed a firm forefinger at Lady Susan, saying: “I wash my hands clear of + you all. I have done with you and your plays. Get another man to fill my + place if you can.” + </p> + <p> + Then he rushed out through the open door. He seemed to have a shrewd + suspicion that if he were to wait another moment one at least of the girls + would have an effective answer to his challenge, and it is quite likely + that his suspicion was well founded. As it was, however, owing to his wise + precipitancy he heard no more than the pleasant laughter—it really + was pleasant laughter, though it did not sound so to him—of the two + girls. + </p> + <p> + But when the sound of the slamming of the hall-door reached the library + the laughter in that apartment suddenly ceased. Sir Francis Délavai looked + at each of the ladies, and both of them looked at him. For some moments no + word was exchanged between them. At last one of them spoke—it was, + strange to say, the man. + </p> + <p> + “This is vastly fine, ladies,” he remarked. “You have got rid of your <i>bête-noire</i>, + Lady Susan; that, I say, is vastly fine, but where are you to find a <i>bête-blanche</i> + to take his place?” + </p> + <p> + “Surely we can find some gentleman willing to act the part of Bellaire?” + said Lady Sarah. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there is not like to be a lack of young gentlemen willing to take the + part, but we want not merely willingness, but competence as well; and the + piece must be played on Wednesday, even though the part of Bellaire be + left out,” said Sir Francis. + </p> + <p> + Lady Susan looked blankly at the floor. She seemed ready to renew the + tears which she had wept on the shoulder of her friend a short time + before. + </p> + <p> + “Have I been too hasty?” she said. “Alas! I fear that I have been selfish. + I thought only of the poor figure that I should cut with such a lover—and + with all the world looking on, too! I should have given more thought to + your distress, Sir Francis.” + </p> + <p> + “Say no more, I pray of you; better have no play at all than one that all + our kind friends will damn with the utmost cordiality and good breeding,” + said Sir Francis. + </p> + <p> + “True, sir, but think of the ladies' dresses!” said Lady Sarah. “What the + ladies say is, 'Better produce a play that will be cordially damned rather + than deprive us of our chance of displaying our new dresses.'” + </p> + <p> + “Heavens!” cried Sir Francis, “I had not thought of the new dresses. Lady + Susan, you will e'en have to face the anger of your sisters—'tis not + I that will tarry for such an event. I mean to fly to Bath or + Brighthelmstone, or perchance to Timbuctoo, until the storm be overpast.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, nay, 'tis not a time for jesting, sir; let us not look at the matter + from the standpoint of men, who do not stand but run away, let us be women + for once, and scheme,” said Lady Susan. + </p> + <p> + “That is woman's special province,” said Sir Francis. “Pray begin, my lady—'twill + be strange if your ladyship and Lady Sarah do not succeed in——” + </p> + <p> + “Psha! there is but one man in England who could play the part of Bellaire + on Wednesday,” cried Lady Sarah. “Ay, sir, and he is the only one in + England capable of playing it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we shall have him on our stage if I should have to pay a thousand + pounds for his services,” said Sir Francis. “But where is he to be found?” + </p> + <p> + “Cannot you guess, sir?” asked Lady Sarah, smiling. + </p> + <p> + Sir Francis looked puzzled, but Lady Sue started and caught her friend by + the wrist. + </p> + <p> + “You do not mean——” she began. + </p> + <p> + “Lud! these girls! Here's a scheme if you will!” muttered Sir Francis. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, if you will, Sir Francis. You know that I mean Mr. O'Brien himself + and none other,” cried Lady Sarah. + </p> + <p> + “Impossible!” cried Lady Susan. “My father would never consent to my + acting in a play with a real actor—no, not even if he were Mr. + Garrick himself. How could you suggest such a thing, Sarah?” + </p> + <p> + “What, do you mean to tell me that you would refuse to act with Mr. + O'Brien?” asked Lady Sarah. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, hear the child!” cried Lady Susan. “She asks me a question to which + she knows only one answer is possible, and looks all the time as though + she expected just the opposite answer!” + </p> + <p> + “I know well that there are a good many ladies who would give all that + they possess for the chance of acting with Mr. O'Brien, and you are among + the number, my dear,” laughed Lady Sarah. + </p> + <p> + “I dare not—I dare not. And yet——” murmured the other + girl. + </p> + <p> + Sir Francis had been lost in thought while the two had been bickering over + the body of O'Brien. He had walked across the room and seated himself for + some moments. Now he rose and held up a finger. + </p> + <p> + “Ladies, this is a serious matter for all of us,” he said. And he spoke + the truth to a greater depth than he was aware of. “'Tis a very serious + matter. If we get Mr. O'Brien to play the part, the piece will be the + greatest success of the day. If we fail to get him, our theatricals will + be damned to a certainty. Lady Susan, will you consent to play with him if + his name does not appear upon the bill?” + </p> + <p> + “But every one would know Mr. O'Brien,” she faltered, after a pause that + was overcharged with excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, in fact; but no one will have official cognizance of him, and, as + you must know, in these matters of etiquette everything depends upon + official cognizance.” + </p> + <p> + “My father—” + </p> + <p> + “His lordship will have no <i>locus standi</i> in the case. He cannot take + notice of an act that is not officially recognisable,” suggested Sir + Francis, the sophist. + </p> + <p> + “If you assure me—— But is't true that Mr. O'Brien only ceased + to become a gentleman when he became an actor?” said Lady Susan. + </p> + <p> + “I have not heard that he relinquished the one part when he took up the + other,” said Sir Francis. “I wonder that you have not met him at the + houses of some of our friends—he is more popular even than Mr. + Garrick. The family of O'Brien——” + </p> + <p> + “All kings, I doubt not,” said Lady Susan. “There were a good many kings + in Ireland in the old days, I believe. I read somewhere that ninety-seven + kings were killed in one battle, and still there were quite enough left to + carry on the quarrels of the country. Oh, yes, there were plenty of kings, + and their descendants have—well, descended. Mr. O'Brien descended + pretty far when he became a play-actor.” + </p> + <p> + “If he condescends to take up the part of Bellaire at the eleventh hour to + pluck our theatricals out of the fire we shall have every reason to be + grateful to him,” said Sir Francis with a severe air of reproof. He was + beginning to be tired—as others in his place have been from time to + time—of the capriciousness of his company of amateurs. + </p> + <p> + “You are right, sir,” said Lady Sarah. “Come, my dear Sue, cease to give + yourself the airs of those ladies who, Mr. Garrick affirms, have been the + plague of his life. If Mr. O'Brien agrees to come to our rescue you should + have no feeling but of gratitude to him. Surely 'twere churlish on the + part of a damsel when a gallant knight rides up to her rescue to look at + his horse in the mouth.” + </p> + <p> + “I am thinking of my father,” said the other. “But I am disposed to accept + the risk of the situation. You will promise that his name will not appear + in the bills, Sir Francis?” + </p> + <p> + “I will promise to do my best to save you from the contamination of having + your name made as immortal as Mr. O'Brien's,” said Sir Francis. + </p> + <p> + Lady Sarah laughed, and so did her friend—after a pause sufficient + to allow the colour that had come to her face at the stinging reproof to + die away. + </p> + <p> + “I hope that you may catch your bird, sir—your eagle—your + Irish eagle.” + </p> + <p> + “If I could tell him that Lady Sarah Lennox was to be in the cast of the + play I should need no further lure for him,” said Sir Francis, making his + most exquisite bow to her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir, you overwhelm me,” said Lady Sarah, sinking in her most + ravishing courtesy. + </p> + <p> + Lady Susan coloured once more, and her foot played a noiseless tattoo on + the floor, for she perceived all that Sir Francis's compliment implied. + Lady Sarah was the most beautiful girl in England, while Lady Susan was + not even second to her, a fact of which she was as well aware as her + friends. + </p> + <p> + This was how Lady Susan Fox-Strangways first met Mr. O'Brien, the actor + whom Garrick had brought from Ireland in the year 1762. He good-naturedly + agreed to help Sir Francis Délavai in his extremity, and his ready Irish + tact enabled him to be the first to stipulate that his name should not + appear in the bills—a condition with which Sir Francis complied, + drawing a long breath. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. O'Brien,” he said, “should the stage ever fail you, a fortune awaits + you if you undertake the duty of teaching gentlemen the art of being a + gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, sir, the moment that art enters the door the gentleman flies out by + the window,” said the actor. “It is Nature, not art, that makes a + gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + One can well believe that Lady Susan Fox-Strangways, with all the pride of + her connection with a peerage nearly ten years old, treated Mr. O'Brien's + accession to a place in the company of amateurs with some hauteur, though + it was said that she fell in love with him at once. On consideration, her + bearing of hauteur which we have ventured to assign to her, so far from + being incompatible with her having fallen in love with him, would really + be a natural consequence of such an accident, and the deeper she felt + herself falling the more she would feel it necessary to assert her + position, if only for the sake of convincing herself that it was + impossible for her to forget herself so far as to think of an Irish + play-actor as occupying any other position in regard to her than that of a + diversion for the moment. + </p> + <p> + It was equally a matter of course that Lady Sarah should have an instinct + of what was taking place. She had attended several of the rehearsals + previously in the capacity of adviser to her friend, for Lady Susan had a + high opinion of her critical capacity; but not until two rehearsals had + taken place with O'Brien as Bellaire was she able to resume her attendance + at Downing Street. Before half an hour had passed this astute lady had + seen, first, that O'Brien made every other man in the cast seem a lout; + and, secondly, that Lady Susan felt that every man in the world was a lout + by the side of O'Brien. + </p> + <p> + She hoped to discover what were the impressions of O'Brien, but she found + herself foiled: the man was too good an actor to betray himself. The + fervour which he threw into the character when making love to Lady Susan + had certainly the semblance of a real passion, but what did this mean more + than that Mr. O'Brien was a convincing actor? + </p> + <p> + When she arrived at this point in her consideration of the situation Lady + Sarah lost herself, and began to long with all her heart that the actor + were making love to her—taking her hand with that incomparable + devotion to—was it his art?—which he showed when Lady Susan's + hand was raised, with a passionate glance into her eyes, to his lips; + putting his arm about her waist, while his lips, trembling under the force + of the protestations of undying devotion which they were uttering, were + almost touching Lady Susan's ear. Before the love scene was over Lady + Sarah was in love with the actor, if not with the man, O'Brien. + </p> + <p> + So was every lady in the cast. O'Brien was the handsomest actor of the + day. He had been careful of his figure at a time when men of fashion lived + in such a way as made the preservation of a figure well-nigh impossible. + Every movement was grace itself with him, and the period was one in which + the costume of a man gave him every chance of at least imitating a + graceful man. All the others in the cast of the play seemed imitating the + gracefulness of O'Brien, and every man of them seemed a clown beside him. + They gave themselves countless graces, but he was grace itself. + </p> + <p> + Lady Sarah saw everything that was to be seen and said nothing. She was + wise. She knew that in due time her friend would tell her all there was to + be told. + </p> + <p> + She was not disappointed. The play was produced, and of course every one + recognised O'Brien in the part, although the bill—printed in gold + letters on a satin ground, with a charming allegorical design by Lady + Diana Spencer, showing a dozen dainty cupids going to school with satchels—stated + that Bellaire would be represented by “a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + Equally as a matter of course a good many of the spectators affirmed that + it was intolerable that a play-actor should be smuggled into a company of + amateurs, some of them belonging to the best families. And then to attempt + a deception of the audience by suggesting that O'Brien was a gentleman—oh, + the thing was unheard of! So said some of the ladies, adding that they + thought it rather sad that Lady Susan was not better-looking. + </p> + <p> + But of the success of the entertainment there could not be a doubt. It was + the talk of the town for a month, and every one noticed—even her own + father—that Lady Susan was looking extremely thin and very pale. + </p> + <p> + Lady Sarah said that she had taken the diversion of the theatricals too + seriously. + </p> + <p> + “I saw it from the first, my dear Sue,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Sue sprang from her chair, and it would be impossible for any one to say + now that she was over pale. + </p> + <p> + “You saw it—you—what was it that you saw from the first?” she + cried. + </p> + <p> + Lady Sarah looked at her and laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that is it—what was it that I saw from the first?” she said. + “What I was going to say that I saw was simply that you were throwing + yourself too violently into the production of the play. That was why you + insisted on poor Lord B———'s getting his <i>congé</i>. + It was a mistake—I saw that also.” + </p> + <p> + “When did you see that?” + </p> + <p> + “When I saw you taking part in that love scene with Mr. O'Brien.” + </p> + <p> + “What mean you by that, Lady Sarah?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly what you fancy I mean, Lady Susan.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Susan gazed at her blankly at first, then very pitifully. In another + moment she had flung herself on her knees at the feet of her friend and + was weeping in her lap. + </p> + <p> + The friend was full of sympathy. + </p> + <p> + “You poor child!” she murmured, “how could you help it? I vow that I + myself—yes, for some minutes—I was as deep in love with the + fellow as you yourself were. But, of course, you were with him longer—every + day. Lud! what a handsome rascal he is, to be sure. His lordship must take + you to the country without delay. Has the fellow tried to transfer the + character in the play beyond the footlights?” + </p> + <p> + “Never—never!” cried Susan. “Sir Francis was right—he is a + gentleman. That is the worst of it!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, lud! the worst of it? Are you mad, girl?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not mad now, but I know that I shall be if he remains a gentleman—if + he refrains from telling me that he loves me—or at least of giving + me a chance of telling him that I love him. That would be better than + nothing—'twould be such a relief. I really do not think that I want + anything more than to be able to confess to him that I love him—that + 'tis impossible that I should love another.” + </p> + <p> + “The sooner you go to the country the better 'twill be for yourself and + all of us—his lordship especially. Good heavens, child, you must be + mad! Do you fancy that his lordship would give his consent to your + marriage with a strolling player, let him be as handsome as Beelzebub?” + </p> + <p> + “He is not a strolling player. Mr. O'Brien is in Mr. Garrick's company, + and every one knows that he is of good family. I have been searching it + out for the past week—all about the O'Briens—there were a + great many of them, all of them distinguished. If it had not been that + King James was defeated by William, in Ireland, Mr. O'Brien's grandfather + would have been made a duke. They were all heroes, the O'Briens. And they + were just too sincere in their devotion to the losing side—that was + it—the losing side was always the one they took up. And yet you call + him a strolling player!” + </p> + <p> + “I take back the insinuation and offer him my apologies; he is not a + strolling player because he doesn't stroll—would to Heaven he did! + Oh, my poor Sue, take a stroll into the country yourself as soon as + possible and try to forget this dreadfully handsome wretch. You would not, + I am sure, force me to tell his lordship what a goose his daughter is like + to make of herself.” + </p> + <p> + At this point there was a dramatic scene, one that was far more deeply + charged with comedy of a sort than any to be found in Mr. Whitehead's + play. Lady Susan accused her dear friend of being a spy, of extorting a + confession from her under the guise of friendship, which in other + circumstances—the rack, the wheel, the thumbscrew, in fact the + entire mechanism of persuasion employed by the Spanish Inquisition—would + have been powerless to obtain. Lady Sarah on her side entreated her friend + not to show herself to be even a greater goose than her confession would + make her out to be. For several minutes there was reproach and + counter-reproach, many home truths followed home thrusts; then some tears, + self-accusation, expressions of sympathy and tenderness, followed by + promises of friendship beyond the dreams of Damon and Pythias; lastly, a + promise on the part of Sue that she would take the advice of her devoted + Sarah and fly to the country without delay. + </p> + <p> + Strange to say, she fled to the country, and, stranger still, the result + was not to cure her of her infatuation for the handsome actor. For close + upon a year she did not see him, but she was as devoted to him as she had + been at first, and no day passed on which she failed to think of him, or + to spend some hours writing romantic verses, sometimes in the style of + Waller in his lyrics, sometimes in the style (distant) of Mr. Dryden in + his pastorals: she was Lesbia, and Mr. O'Brien was Strephon. + </p> + <p> + But in the meantime she had improved so much in her acting that when Lady + Sarah, who had within the year married Sir Thomas Bunbury, ventured to + rally her upon her infatuation of the previous spring, she was able to + disarm her suspicions by a flush and a shrug, and a little contemptuous + exclamation or two. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my dear one, did not I give you good advice?” cried Lady Sarah. “I + was well assured that my beloved Sue would never persevere in a passion + that could only end in unhappiness. But indeed, child, I never had the + heart to blame you greatly, the fellow is handsome as Apollo and as proud + as Apolyon. He has broken many hearts not accounted particularly fragile, + during the year.” + </p> + <p> + “Is't possible? For example?—I vow that I shall keep their names + secret.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Sarah shook her head at first, but on being importuned whispered a + name or two of ladies of their acquaintance, all of whom—according + to Lady Sarah—had fallen as deep as was possible in love with + O'Brien. Her ladyship was so intent on her narration of the scandals that + she quite failed to see the strange light that gleamed in her friend's + eyes at the mention of every name—a rather fierce gleam, with a + flash of green in it. She did not notice this phenomenon, nor did she + detect the false note in the tribute of laughter which her friend paid to + her powers of narration. + </p> + <p> + But Lady Sue, when the other had left her, rushed to her room and flung + herself on her bed in a paroxysm of jealousy. She beat her innocent pillow + wildly, crying in the whisper that the clenching of her teeth made + imperative—“The hussies! Shameless creatures! Do they hope that he + will be attracted to them? Fools!—they are fools! They do not know + him as I know him. They think that he is nothing but a vain actor—Garrick, + or Barry, or Lewes. Oh, they do not know him!” + </p> + <p> + She lay there in her passion for an hour, and if it was her maid who + discovered her at the end of that time, it is safe to assume that the + young woman's flesh was black and blue in places for several days + afterwards. The pinch and the slipper were among the most highly approved + forms of torture inflicted upon their maids at that robust period of + English history. The French Revolution was still some way off. + </p> + <p> + A few weeks later Lady Susan was sitting to Sir Joshua Reynolds for a + group, in which he painted her with her friend Lady Sarah Bunbury and Mr. + Henry Fox; and it was the carrying out of this scheme that put quite + another scheme into the quick brain of the first-named lady. Painting was + in the air. She possessed a poor print of Mr. O'Brien, and she had found + an immense consolation in gazing upon it—frequently at midnight, + under the light of her bedroom candle. The sight of the life-like + portraits in Sir Joshua's studio induced her to ask herself if she might + not possess a picture of her lover that would show him as he really was in + life, without demanding so many allowances as were necessary to be made + for the shortcomings of the engraver of a print. Why should she not get + Sir Joshua Reynolds to paint for her the portrait of Mr. O'Brien? + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0016" id="linkimage-0016"> </a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> + <img src="images/0379.jpg" alt="0379 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0379.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> + </h5> + <p> + The thought was a stimulating one, and it took possession of her for a + week. At the end of that time, however, she came to the conclusion that it + would be unwise for her to employ Sir Joshua on a commission that might + possibly excite some comment on the part of her friends should they come + to learn—and the work of this particular painter was rather inclined + to be assertive—that it had been executed to her order. But she was + determined not to live any longer without a portrait of the man; and, + hearing some one mention at Sir Joshua's house the name of Miss Catherine + Read, who was described as an excellent portrait painter, she made further + inquiry, and the result was that she begged her father, the Earl of + Ilchester, who was devoted to her, to allow her to have her portrait done + by Miss Read, to present to Lady Sarah on her birthday. + </p> + <p> + Of course Miss Read was delighted to have the patronage of so great a + family—she had not yet done her famous pastel of the Duchess of + Argyll—and Susan, accompanied by her footman, lost no time in + beginning her series of sittings to the artist to whom Horace Walpole + referred as “the painteress.” + </p> + <p> + She was both patient and discreet, for three whole days elapsed before she + produced a mezzotint of Mr. O'Brien. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if you would condescend to draw a miniature portrait of his + lordship's favourite actor from so poor a copy as this, Miss Read?” she + said. “Have you ever seen this Mr. O'Brien—an Irishman, I believe he + is?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Read assured her that Mr. O'Brien was her favourite actor also. The + print produced was indeed a poor one; it quite failed to do justice to the + striking features of the original, she said. + </p> + <p> + “I felt certain that it could bear but a meagre resemblance to Mr. O'Brien + if all that I hear of the man be true,” said Lady Susan. “His lordship + swears that there has never been so great an actor in England, and I + should like to give him a surprise by presenting to him a miniature + portrait of his favourite, done by the cunning pencil of Miss Read, on his + birthday. I protest that 'tis a vast kindness you are doing me in + undertaking such a thing. But mind, I would urge of you to keep the affair + a profound secret. I wish it as a surprise to my father, and its effect + would be spoilt were it to become known to any of his friends that I had + this intention.” + </p> + <p> + “Your ladyship may rest assured that no living creature will hear of the + affair through me,” said the painteress. “But I heartily wish that your + ladyship could procure for me a better copy than this print from which to + work,” she added. + </p> + <p> + “I fear that I cannot promise you that; I found two other prints of the + same person, but they are worse even than this,” said Lady Susan. “You + must do your best with the material at your disposal.” + </p> + <p> + “Your ladyship may depend on my doing my best,” replied Miss Read. “When + does his lordship's birthday take place?” + </p> + <p> + Her ladyship was somewhat taken aback by the sudden question. It took her + some time to recollect that her father's birthday was to be within a + month. She felt that she could not live for longer than another month + without a portrait of the man whom she loved. + </p> + <p> + While she was going home in her chair she could not but feel that she had + hitherto been an undutiful daughter, never having taken any interest in + her father's birthday, and being quite unacquainted with its date. She + hoped fervently that Miss Read would not put herself to the trouble to + find out exactly on what day of what month it took place. The result of + such an investigation might be a little awkward. + </p> + <p> + It so happened that Miss Read took no trouble in this direction. All her + attention was turned upon the task of making a presentable miniature out + of the indifferent material with which she had been supplied for this + purpose. She began wondering if it might not be possible to get O'Brien to + sit to her half a dozen times in order to give her a chance of doing + credit to herself and to the gentleman's fine features. + </p> + <p> + She was still pondering over this question when her attendant entered with + a card, saying that a gentleman had come to wait on her. + </p> + <p> + She read the name on the card, and uttered an exclamation of surprise, for + the name was that of the man of whom she was thinking—Mr. O'Brien, + of Drury Lane Theatre. + </p> + <p> + She had wholly failed to recover herself before he entered the studio, and + advanced to her, making his most respectful bow. He politely ignored her + flutter-ings—he was used to see her sex overwhelmed when he + appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Madam, I beg that you will pardon this intrusion,” he said. “I have taken + the liberty of waiting upon you, knowing of your great capacity as an + artist.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir!” cried the fluttered little lady, making her courtesy. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, madam, I have no intention of flattering one to whom compliments + must be as customary as they are well deserved,” said the actor. “I come + not to confer a favour, madam, but to entreat one. In short, Miss Read, I + am desirous of presenting a valued friend of mine with the portrait of a + lady for whom he entertains a sincere devotion. For certain reasons, which + I need not specify, the lady cannot sit to you; but I have here a picture + of her poorly done in chalks, from which I hope it may be in your power to + make a good—a good—— Good heavens! what do I behold? 'Tis + she—she—Lady Susan herself!” + </p> + <p> + He had glanced round the studio in the course of his speech, and his eyes + had alighted upon the newly-begun portrait of Lady Susan. It represented + only a few days' work, but the likeness to the original had been ably + caught, and no one could fail to recognise the features. + </p> + <p> + He took a hurried step to the easel, and the air made by his motion + dislodged a print which the artist had laid on the little ledge that + supported the stretcher of the canvas. The print fluttered to the floor; + he picked it up, and gave another exclamation on recognising his own + portrait in the mezzotint. + </p> + <p> + Looking from the print to the picture and then at Miss Read, he said in a + low voice, after a pause—“Madam, I am bewildered. Unless you come to + my assistance I protest I shall feel that I am dreaming and asleep. Pray, + madam, enlighten me—for Heaven's sake tell me how this”—he + held up the print—“came into such close juxtaposition with that”—he + pointed to the portrait on the easel. + </p> + <p> + “'Tis easily told, sir,” said Miss Read, smiling archly. “But I must leave + it to your sense of honour to keep the matter a profound secret.” + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” said Mr. O'Brien with dignity, “Madam, I am an Irishman.” + </p> + <p> + “That is enough, sir; I know that I can trust you. The truth is, Mr. + O'Brien, that Lady Susan is sitting to me for her portrait—that + portrait. 'Twas marvellous that you should recognise it so soon. I have + not worked at it for many hours.” + </p> + <p> + “Madam, your art is beyond that of the magician. 'Tis well known that + every form depicted by Miss Read not only breathes but speaks.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir, I vow that you are a flatterer; still, you did recognise the + portrait—'tis to be presented to Lady Sarah Bunbury.” + </p> + <p> + “Her ladyship will be the most fortunate of womankind.” + </p> + <p> + “Which ladyship, sir—Lady Susan or Lady Sarah?” + </p> + <p> + “Both, madam.” The Irishman was bowing with his hand on his heart. “But + the print—my poor likeness?” + </p> + <p> + “That is the secret, sir; but you will not betray it when I tell you that + Lady Susan entrusted that print to me in order that I might make a copy in + miniature for her to present to her father, Lord Ilchester. You are his + favourite actor, Mr. O'Brien, as no doubt you are aware.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis the first I heard of it, madam.” There was a suggestion of + mortification in the actor's tone. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, 'twould be impossible for Mr. O'Brien to keep an account of all his + conquests. But now you can understand how it is that her ladyship wishes + her intention to be kept a secret: she means to add to the acceptability + of her gift by presenting it as a surprise. But her secret is safe in your + keeping, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “I swear to it, madam.” Mr. O'Brien spoke mechanically. His hand was on + his chin: he was clearly musing upon some question that perplexed him. He + took a turn up and down the studio, and then said: + </p> + <p> + “Madam, it has just occurred to me that you, as a great artist——” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, sir,” interposed the blushing painteress. + </p> + <p> + “I will not take back a word, madam,” said the actor, holding up one + inexorable hand. “I say that surely so great an artist as you should + disdain to do the work of a mere copyist. Why should not you confer upon + me the honour of sitting to you for the miniature portrait?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir, that is the one favour which I meant to ask of you, if my + courage had not failed me.” + </p> + <p> + “Madam, you will confer immortality upon a simple man through that magic + wand which you wield.” He swept his hand with inimitable grace over the + mahl-stick which lay against the easel. “I am all impatient to begin my + sitting, Miss Read. Pray let me come to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Her ladyship comes to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall precede her ladyship. Name the hour, madam.” + </p> + <p> + Without the least demur Miss Read named an hour which could enable him to + be far away from the studio before Lady Susan's arrival. + </p> + <p> + And yet the next day Lady Susan entered the studio quite half an hour + before Mr. O'Brien had left it. Of course she was surprised. Had not Miss + Read received a letter, making her aware of the fact that she, Lady Susan, + would be forced, owing to circumstances over which she had no control, to + sit for her portrait an hour earlier than that of her appointment? + </p> + <p> + When Miss Read said she had received no such letter, Lady Susan said some + very severe things about her maid. Miss Read was greatly fluttered, but + she explained in as few words as possible how it was that Mr. O'Brien had + come forward in the cause of art, and was sitting for the miniature. Lady + Susan quickly got over her surprise. (Had Miss Read seen the letter which + her ladyship had received the previous evening from Mr. O'Brien she would + not have marvelled as she did at the rapidity with which her ladyship + recovered her self-possession.) Her ladyship was quite friendly with the + actor, and thanked him for his courtesy in offering to give up so much of + his time solely for the sake of increasing the value of her gift to her + father. + </p> + <p> + A few minutes later, while they were discussing some point in the design + of the picture, Miss Read was called out of the studio, and in a second + Lady Susan was in his arms. + </p> + <p> + “Fate is on our side, darling girl!” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + “I could not live without you, my charmer. But I was bold! I took my fate + in both hands when I wrote you that letter.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear one, 'twas the instinct of true love that made you guess the truth—that + I wanted the portrait because I loved the original. Oh, dear one, what + have I not suffered during the year that has parted us!” said Lady Susan, + with her head upon his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + The Irishman found it necessary to fall back upon the seductive tongue of + his country for words of endearment to bestow upon her. He called her + “Sheila,” “a cushla machree,” “mavourneen,” and also “aroon.” But when + Miss Read returned to the studio they were still discussing a purely + artistic point in connection with the portrait. + </p> + <p> + Of course now that O'Brien knew the secret of the miniature there was no + reason that Miss Read could see why he and Lady Susan should not meet at + her studio. To do her justice, neither could her ladyship perceive why + they should not come together at this place. They came every day, and + every day Lady Susan begged that Miss Read would allow her to rest in her + ante-room after the fatigue of the sitting. She rested in that room, and + in the company of O'Brien, until at last Miss Read became frightened; and + one day told her friend Lord Cathcart something of her fears. Lord + Cathcart, in his turn, told Lord Ilchester. His lordship was furious, but + cautious. + </p> + <p> + He wanted evidence of his daughter's infatuation. He got it the next + morning, for he insisted on seeing a letter which arrived for Lady Susan, + addressed in the handwriting of Lady Sarah. This letter turned out to be + from O'Brien, and Susan confessed that her father's surmise was correct—all + the letters which she had recently received in Lady Sarah's hand had come + from O'Brien. + </p> + <p> + Her father was foolish enough to grant her permission to say farewell to + her lover, and thus the two were allowed to come together once more. They + had a long talk, in the course of which O'Brien communicated to her a + secret of the theatre, which was that Mr. Garrick and Mr. Colman were + engaged in the construction of a comedy to be called <i>The Clandestine + Marriage</i>, and that Mr. Garrick told him that he, O'Brien, was to play + the part of the lover—the gentleman who had married the lady in + secret. + </p> + <p> + Lady Susan parted from her lover, not in tears, but in laughter. + </p> + <p> + The conclusion of the story is told by Horace Walpole, writing to Lord + Hertford. + </p> + <p> + “You will have heard of the sad misfortune that has happened to Lord + Ilchester by his daughter's marriage with O'Brien, the actor,” wrote + Walpole; and then went on to tell how Lady Susan had made her confession + to her father, vowing to have nothing more to do with her lover if she + were but permitted to bid him good-bye. “You will be amazed,” continued + Walpole, “even this was granted. The parting scene happened the beginning + of the week. On Friday she came of age, and on Saturday morning—instead + of being under lock and key in the country—walked downstairs, took + her footman, said she was going to breakfast with Lady Sarah, but would + call at Miss Read's; in the street pretended to recollect a particular cap + in which she was to be drawn, sent the footman back for it, whipped into a + hackney chair, was married at Covent Garden Church, and set out for Mr. + O'Brien's villa at Dunstable.” + </p> + <p> + Unlike many other alliances of a similar type, this marriage turned out a + happy one. O'Brien was induced to leave the stage and to depart with his + wife for America. He obtained a grant of some forty thousand acres in the + province of New York, and had he retained this property and taken the + right side during the Revolution his descendants would to-day be the + richest people in the world. A few years later he was given a good + appointment in Bermuda; and finally, in 1770, he was made Receiver-General + of the County of Dorset, and became popular as a country squire. He died + in 1815, and Lady Susan survived him by twelve years. + </p> + <p> + It was Lady Sarah who had made the imprudent marriage. She submitted to + the cruelties of her husband for fourteen years, and on her leaving his + roof he obtained a divorce. + </p> + <p> + In 1781, nineteen years after her first marriage, she wedded the Hon. + George Napier, and became the mother of three of the greatest Englishmen + of the nineteenth century. She lived until she was eighty. Her friend Lady + Susan followed her to the grave a year later, at the age of eighty-four. + </p> + <h3> + THE END + </h3> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Georgian Pageant, by Frank Frankfort Moore + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GEORGIAN PAGEANT *** + +***** This file should be named 51964-h.htm or 51964-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/6/51964/ + +Produced by David Widger from page images generously +provided by the Internet Archive + + +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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