SAMUEL BOGEKSTHE
EAELT LIFE
OF
SAMUEL ROGERS
P. W. CLAYDEN
AUTHOR OF
1 SAMUEL SHARPE, EGYPTOLOGIST AND TRANSLATOR OF THE BIBLE’
LONDON
SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 WATERLOO PLACE
1887
[All rights reserved]PREFACE.
O*
The narrative of Rogers’s early life covers a periodjof
forty years, and naturally ends with his settlement in the
celebrated house in St. James’s Place. Another period
of more than fifty years, in which he was one of the chief
figures in English Society, remains to be dealt with in
another volume. I have ample materials for this work
in the shape of letters from many of Rogers’s eminent
contemporaries, but I shall esteem it as a great favour if
those who possess letters by Rogers himself will let me
have copies of them.
The materials for Rogers’s life were placed in my
hands by Miss Sharpe of 32 Highbury Place, and Mrs.
William Sharpe of 1 Highbury Terrace, the representa-
tives of his nephews and executors—the late Mr. Samuel
Sharpe and the late Mr. William Sharpe; and I am
deeply indebted to them for the generous trust they havevi	EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
placed ill my discretion. For the use made of letters
and diaries I am solely responsible. I wish further to
express my cordial thanks to Mrs. Drummond of
Fredley and of 18 Hyde Park Gardens, for the valuable
and interesting letters of Pickard Sharp.
P. W. Clayden.
13 Tavistock Square, London :
November 1S87.CONTENTS.
o+
CHAPTER I.
Stoke Newington—Rogers’s Ancestors—Dr. Price--Mrs. Rogers—
Her Letters —Her Character	.......
CHAPTER II.
Rogers’s Boyhood and Schoolmasters—His Father—William Maltby
—Dr. Price and the Boys—Thomas Rogers’s Politics—Dr.
Price’s Influence—Samuel Rogers and the Pulpit—The Coven-
try Election—Letters from Thomas Rogers—Samuel Rogers at
Home............................................
CHAPTER III.
Early Writings—‘ The Scribbler ’—‘ Vintage of Burgundy ’—‘ Ode
to Superstition ’—Smaller Poems...................
CHAPTER IV.
The Bank Partnership—Hackney College—Dr. Kippis one of his
Literary Sponsors—Helen Maria Williams and the Coquerels—
Mrs. Barbauld—Joanna Baillie —Death of Thomas Rogers,
junior—Letters from Thomas Rogers, senior—Visit to Edin-
burgh—Adam Smith, Robertson, H. Mackenzie—The Piozzis—
Tour through Scotland—Burns—Henry Mackenzie and his
works—Sir Joshua Reynolds and Burke............Vlll
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
CHAPTER V.
TAGE
English feeling about France in 17S9 and 1790—Wordsworth,
Coleridge, Adams—Diary in Revolutionary Paris — Visits to
Lafayette* de Chatelet, de Liancourt, the Due de Rochefoucauld,
etc.—National Assembly, Jacobin Club—The Theatres—The
King and Queen—The Populace—Journey homewards through
Belgium and Flanders—Dr. John Moore, father of Sir John and
Sir Graham Moore .	.	.	.	.	.	.	.	.115
CHAPTER VI.
Helen Williams—Conversation at her house—Merry and the Della
Cruscans—Journey through Wales, 1791—Mrs. Barbauld’s
Letter—Visit to Dr. Parr, 1793	162
CHAPTER VII.
4 The Pleasures of Memory ’—Letter of Criticism from Dr. Parr;
Notes—Letter of Gilpin—Hayward’s Criticism—Estimate of
the Poem .........................................210
CHAPTER VIII.
Diary of literary visits, parties, etc.—Dinners with Parr, Cumber-
land—Fox, Sheridan, and Pamela, at Stone’s—R. Sharp—
Summer journey to New Forest, etc.—Gilpin—Meetings of Club
—Cooper, Priestley, Tuffin, Stothard, Franklin, etc.—Eumelean
Club—Arthur Murphy—His stories of Foote and Garrick .	.	239
CHAPTER IX.
Death of Rogers’s Father—Richard Sharp—Rogers deciding on a
West-end life—R. Cumberland, R. Merry, T. Cooper—Priestley’s
exile — Horne Tooke’s Trial—William Stone’s Trial—Mrs.
, Siddons and her epilogue—Dr. Moore—Early Correspondence
with Richard Sharp—Rogers’s Commonplace Book—Dr. John-
son and Dr. Priestley—4 My Club ’—Rogers and Polwhele .	273CONTENTS
IX
CHAPTER X.
State of the country in 1795-6—Reaction in Parliament—West-
minster election, 1796—Dr. Moore and his sons—Rogers’s
domestic relations—Correspondence with R. Sharp—Brighton
in 1797—Lady Jersey—A romance without a denouement—
Brighton in 1798—Sarah Rogers.......................
CHAPTER XI.
* An Epistle to a Friend ’—Letters from Dr. Warton—W. Gilpin—
Criticisms and changes in the poem—Mr. Hayward’s criticism
— Rogers and Fox, Erskine — Political warfare — The Fox
banquet, 1798—The Duke of Norfolk—Prosecution of Gilbert
Wakefield—Parr and Mackintosh ......
CHAPTER XII.
‘The Pursuits of Literature’—A winter at Exmouth—Classical
reading—George Steevens — Jackson of Exeter — Letters to
Richard Sharp—Dr. Moore’s ‘ Mordaunt ’—Dr. Moore’s death
—Richard Sharp and Fredley—Brighton in 1801
CHAPTER XIII.
The King of Clubs ’—‘ The Bachelor ’ — Rogers building—Paris in
1802—Letters to Henry Rogers, Maria Sharpe, Mrs. Greg—Fox
and Rogers in Paris—Fox and Mackintosh—Rogers’s new house
—His final settlement in St. James’s Place .	.	.	.
INDEX .
rAGE
316
351
383
422
453THE EARLY LIFE
OF
SAMUEL ROGERS.
---k>«
CHAPTER I.
Stoke Newington—Rogers’s Ancestors—Dr. Price—Mrs. Rogers—
Her Letters—Her Character.
In the middle of the eighteenth century the suburban
village of Stoke Newington contained a group of friendly
households, which embraced many persons afterwards
known in the larger world. The pretty village green,
then a piece of open grass with a few ancient elms and
quaint Elizabethan houses round it, was a centre of
political and religious Liberalism. A meeting-house of
the English Presbyterian dissent had been built there
in 1708, and there the Rev. Charles Morton, the silenced
rector of Blissland, in Cornwall—Defoe’s teacher—had
kept his school. In the early part of the eighteenth
century, Samuel Harris, an East India merchant, who
had married a daughter of Queen Mary’s physician,
Dr. Coxe, lived in one of the houses on the Green; and
in 1731 their only daughter, Mary Harris—a cousin of
William Coxe, the author of the ‘ History of the House
of Austria ’—married Daniel Radford, a warehouseman9
EAELY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
in Cheapside. Daniel Radford had come to London
from Chester with a capital of a thousand pounds, with
which he had entered into partnership with Mr. Obadiah
Wickes. He was the son of Samuel Radford, a linen-
draper at Chester, and of Eleanor his wife, third
daughter of the Rev. Philip Henry, one of the most
eminent of the clergy who had been ejected on the
passing of the Act of Uniformity in 1662. Philip Henry
was the son of one of the pages of Charles I. He was
born in the palace at Whitehall, had been a playfellow
of the Prince of Wales and the Duke of York, had seen
the king beheaded, and was in politics a Cavalier. His
mother inclined to the teaching of the Presbyterian
divines, and the son, after leaving Westminster School,
and taking his degree at Oxford, had adhered to the
same side in religious matters, and had entered the
Church during the Protectorate by Presbyterian ordina-
tion. Daniel Radford, his grandson, inherited the serious
disposition and the religious principles of his grand-
father. Daniel’s father and mother, the Chester linen-
draper and his wife, had died early, and Daniel was
brought up by his maternal uncle, the Rev. Matthew
Henry, the author of the celebrated Commentary on the
Bible. Daniel Radford’s Diary shows the influence of
this ancestry and training. He was an introspective
person, and religious feeling tinged his life. He puts on
record, sometimes day by day, sometimes only year by
year, not the day’s events nor the year’s history, but the
serious reflections which the flight of time or the death
of friends, or family joys and troubles, suggested to a
religious mind. A few events of personal and familyHIS MATERNAL GRANDFATHER
3
interest are noted here and there, hut only for the sake
of recording some pious resolution or of writing down
some aspiration which had arisen out of them. The
Journal begins in March, 1715, with an extract from a
devotional book, and ends in June, 1767, less than four
months before his death, with the expression of the hope
that ‘ though I shall not die a profitable servant, yet I
hope to die a pardoned sinner through Jesus Christ.'
In all the two-and-fifty years there is only one reference
to a public event, and that is an earthquake,1 which
suggested a religious reflection to his mind.
Daniel Badford was born on the 24th of May, 1691,
and died on the 14th of October, 1767, having completed
his seventy-sixth year on the 4th of June, to which the
change of style had transferred his birthday. He had
settled at Newington Green on his marriage in 1731, had
lived there all the rest of his life, and there his only child
Mary had been born. With Philip Henry for his grand-
father, and Matthew Henry the commentator for his
uncle, it was natural that Daniel Badford should connect
himself with the small Presbyterian congregation at the
1 This entry in the Diary is as follows: 4 In London, on Thursday,
8th February, 1749, betwixt twelve and one o’clock at noon, we were sur-
prised greatly by the shock of an earthquake which was felt in the city
and the country round about it. I happened to be shaving then in the
counting-house, and I asked the barber what the noise and shaking was.
He said he believed somebody had fallen down above-stairs, for indeed
it felt as if something heavy was fallen down. I thought it felt as if
the house had given way, and so most people indeed did, that were in
houses. But, thanks be to God ! it did very little damage anywhere as I
heard of, and it was over almost as soon as one felt it. And, alas ! too
much so has been the remembrance of the thing itself among us. But
shall I not fear always before, and stand in awe of, this great and holy
Lord God, who can, whenever He pleases, make the earth shake, with the
foundations thereof ? ’4
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
chapel on the Green. The minister was Mr. Hoyle; but
a man destined to European renown, and worthy of ity
was living near, and gave occasional help. This was
Mr. (afterwards Dr.) Eichard Price, who became preacher
to the congregation in 1758. Daniel Radford and his.
daughter—his wife had died in 1738, when Mary was.
scarcely three years old—were thus brought into contact
with one of the most acute and enlightened minds the'
eighteenth century produced, with the best intellectual
and social results to their connections and descendants.
Daniel Radford was treasurer to the congregation, and
at his death left a hundred pounds towards the augmen-
tation of the salary of the minister.
The little group of people among whom the Radfords
lived, was Puritan by ancestry and association, in full
sympathy with the Whig party in politics, and inclined
to latitudinarian opinions on theological questions. In
the sixth decade of the century there came into it a
young man of altogether different birth and training.
In Daniel Radford’s Diary there is the record of the
deaths of his two partners: Mr. Obadiah Wickes, the
father, in 1748, and Mr. John Wickes, the son, in 1750.
On the 1st of January, 1753, he writes that he is again
in some concern about a new co-partnership into which
he has entered with Mr. Rogers. This was Thomas
Rogers, a glass manufacturer of Stourbridge, whose only
son afterwards removed to London to take part in the
business in which his father had thus become a partner.
Thomas Rogers lived at a house called ‘ The Hill ’ in the
parish of Old Swinford, and his name had been long
associated with the manufacturing industry of Stour-HIS PATERNAL ANCESTORS
5
bridge. The earliest record of the family is that the
’will of Thomas Rogers the elder, of Amblesant, yeoman,
was proved on the 27th of June, 1681, by Anne, his widow
and sole executrix. This Thomas Rogers is described as
a Welshman, and an eminent dealer in glass, in Holloway
End, Stourbridge, He had married the daughter of M.
Tyttery of Nantes, in Lorraine, and left two sons, Thomas
and James, and a daughter, Sarah. This second Thomas
Rogers had a half share in the business, and was
apparently the father of Thomas Rogers of ‘ The Hill,’
the partner of Daniel Radford. Thomas Rogers of ‘ The
Hill ’—the grandson of the Welshman who had married
the Frenchwoman, and the grandfather of Samuel
Rogers—was a person of much influence and considera-
tion in the town and county. He had married a
daughter of Richard Knight of Downton ; and Richard
Payne Knight, the antiquary, and Thomas Andrew
Knight, the writer on horticulture, were his nephews.
He was a Tory of the old school, and lived on excellent
terms with the Tory gentry of the county. In the
picturesque and well-kept churchyard of Old Swinford
there are still memorials of the Rogers family; and
Yon old mansion frowning through the trees,
of which Samuel Rogers speaks in ‘ The Pleasures of
Memory,’ was, in all probability, the house of Thomas
Rogers, his grandfather, which was not far from the
church. A few miles off was ‘ The Leasowes,’ where
Shenstone lived, and where he died in the year in which
Samuel Rogers was born. Close at hand, at Hagley,
was George Lyttelton, the friend of Pope, the patron of6
EAELY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
Thomson, the poet of ‘ Blenheim ’ and ‘ The Progress of
Love’; afterwards, author of ‘Dialogues of the Dead,’
a Tory Chancellor of the Exchequer and a peer. Farther
off, on the other side of Stourbridge, dwelt the Earl of
Stamford and Warrington, at Enville; and round about
were the houses of many other country gentlemen with
most of whom hatred of the Whigs was the chief public
passion and virtue. Such was the circle in which, in
the second quarter of the eighteenth century, the elder
Thomas Rogers lived and Thomas Rogers the younger
was brought up.
There is no record of the date at which Thomas
Rogers the younger removed to London. He was pro-
bably just about of age when he left the Tory atmosphere
of the country house in Worcestershire, and plunged
into the entirely different moral and social conditions
and influences of Stoke Newington. It is evident that
he soon won the esteem of his father’s partner, for in
1760 he was married to Daniel Radford’s only daughter,
Mary. The wedding took place at Islington parish
church on the 27th of March, 1760; and on the next
New Year’s Day Thomas Rogers joined his father and
father-in-law in the partnership, the latter advancing
him 2,000 l.to make up his share of the stock-in-trade.
Thomas Rogers yielded quickly and fully to the new
influences around him. As soon as we get any glimpse
of his opinions we find him to be in full sympathy with
the political and religious Liberalism of his wife’s family
and friends. He was a good man of business, and pros-
pered in his way. In 1765 he joined George and Thomas
Welch, who were bankers in Cornliill, and the firm there-HIS BROTHERS AND SISTERS
7
after carried on the business under the style of Welch &
Rogers. Meanwhile a family was fast growing up around
him. His eldest son, Daniel, named after his father-in-
law, was born on the 3rd of January, 1761 ; about Christ-
mas in the same year a second son, Thomas, was born;
and a year and a half later, on the 30th of July, 1763, the
third son, wdio was to outlive every member of the family,
was born, and called Samuel after his maternal grand-
father, Samuel Harris. Other children followed with
nearly equal rapidity ; Martha, afterwards Mrs. John
Towgood, in 1765 ; Mary in 1766, Paul in 1768 ; another
daughter, who lived but a day, and was never named, in
1770; Maria (afterwards Mrs. Sutton Sharpe) in 1771;
Sarah—the Miss Rogers wrho lived to within a year of
Samuel, and was all through her life closely associated
with him—in 1772; Henry—the kind and thoughtful
friend of his nephews and nieces—in 1774, and Mary
Radford in 1776. Of these children three—Mary, Paul,
and Mary Radford—died in infancy, and Thomas died in
1788, in his twenty-seventh year. Six saw the nineteenth
century : Maria dying in 1806 ; Daniel, on whose death
Charles Lamb wrote a Sonnet, in 1829; Henry in 1832,
Martha in 1837, while Sarah lived on till January 1855,
and Samuel till December in the same year. These two
were thus the only long-lived members of a family, the
father and mother of which died comparatively young,
and of which only one other member reached the age of
threescore and ten.
The charm of Dr. Price’s character exerted a con-
siderable influence on Thomas Rogers and his family.
Dr. Price lived close by, and a great friendship sprang8
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
up between him and the Rogerses. A weekly supping
club was established which met at the houses of Dr.
Price, Thomas Rogers, and Mr. Burgh in turns. These
three, with Mr. Thoresby, the liberal and learned rector
of Stoke Newington, were the chief members of the club,
and at one of its suppers Dr. Price and Dr. Priestley
were afterwards introduced to each other by Dr. Benson.
Mr. Burgh was a schoolmaster, who kept a boarding
school at Newington Green, and for a time acted as
tutor to Samuel Rogers and his brothers. He was a
man of acute mind, who wrote a work entitled ‘ Political
Disquisitions,’ but was best known as the author of a
book ‘ On the Dignity of Human Nature.’ Dr. Price
was as great a favourite with the boys as he was with
their parents. They not only listened to his sermons
on Sunday afternoons but enjoyed his sympathy during
the week, in their lessons and even in their games.
Samuel Rogers spoke of him in after-years with the
most sincere affection. He would go in from his study
in his dressing-gown to spend the evening with the
family, and the children never forgot the impression his
conversation made upon them. ‘ He would talk and
read the Bible to us,’ said Rogers in after-years, ‘ till he
sent us to bed in a frame of mind as heavenly as his
own.’ At other times he would take the boys and girls
to his house and show them scientific experiments. The
Equitable Assurance Society, in recognition of his services
in the publication of his ‘ Treatise on Reversionary Pay-
ments,’ his ‘ Northampton Mortality Tables,’ and other
writings, by which he had laid the scientific foundation
of Life Assurance, had presented him with some scientificDR. PRICE
9
apparatus—a telescope, a microscope, and an electrical
machine. It is easy to imagine the charm which these
instruments, then novel and unusual, had for a group
of lively and intelligent children. Dr. Price’s delight in
the company of children, and his desire to contribute to
their amusement and instruction, found in these toys
of science an unfailing source of interest and profit to
his young friends. But he had other and more personal
charms. He was a most delightful companion for boys.
He seems to have possessed not only a love for children,
but much of that boyishness and love of frolic which
have often characterised men of genius. In some juvenile
recollections of him which Samuel Rogers lias left, he
tells several amusing stories which illustrate this unex-
pected side of a great man’s nature. He once challenged
Mr. Hulton, a commissary in the German war, and
commissioner of customs at Boston, a much taller and
more robust person than himself, to hop the length of
the first field between the meeting-house and Stoke
Newington, and won the race. On another occasion he
attempted to leap over a honeysuckle bush in the grass-
plat in the Rogerses’ garden, but to use Rogers’s words,
* he entangled the tree between his legs, and away went
the honeysuckle and the doctor together.’ The boys
said to one another that he had once leaped over the
New River; and it was his custom every day at two
o’clock to run off for a swim in Peerless Pool. He had
frequent falls from his horse, and in Covent Garden
was once thrown into a basket of beans. His conscien-
tiousness and benevolence were exemplified in other
favourite stories. In a field near his house he once saw10
EARLY LIEE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
some larks struggling in the nets in which they had just
been caught. He cut the nets and set them free, but,
reflecting on the loss he had thereby caused to some
unknown person, returned and deposited some money
on the spot. In one of his strolls he suddenly remem-
bered that he had seen a beetle on its back, and he re-
turned through several fields, found it, and set it on its
legs. Assailed in a country walk by a footpad he mildly
expostulated with the man and lectured him on the
crime of robbery. His absence of mind was another
source of continual amusement. It was said that he
had gone down to his study to supper an hour after he
had eaten the meal. In conversation he turned his wig
round on his temples, twisted one leg round the other,
and folded his cocked hat into a thousand shapes. But
all these things endeared him to the boys as much as
his intellectual distinction, his tender religious feelings,
and his lively interest in all the questions of the day,
attached the elders to him. Bogers describes him as
4 slim in person, and rather below the common size, but
possessed of great muscular strength and remarkable
activity. With strong features, and a very intelligent
eye, his countenance was the mirror of his mind; and
when lighted up by conversation his features were pe-
culiarly pleasing.’ Everybody admired and loved him,
and this love and admiration exerted a powerful influence
on the family at Newington Green.
Thomas Bogers and his wife were quite worthy of the
society of which Dr. Price was the most distinguished
member. He was a man of much vigour and decision,
and she is described as a tall and handsome woman, withHIS BOYHOOD
11
dark hair and eyes and a face of great intelligence.
Their children were not very strong. It was the time of
queues and cocked hats ; and Samuel Rogers says that
the children wore cocked hats, and he remembered
chasing butterflies in the fields with the quaint three-
cornered head-covering in his hand. The boys went to
day-school at Mr. Burgh’s and Mr. Cockburn’s; and
afterwards, when Mr. Burgh removed to Colebrook Row,
Islington (where Charles Lamb lived at a later day), they
went over to him for lessons. There was plenty of active
outdoor amusement and exercise for the boys—bathing
in Peerless Pool, riding on the nag, sporting in the pad-
dock behind the house, and rambling over the open fields.
London was two miles away, across the fields and gardens
now covered by De Beauvoir Town. Perhaps the best
account which can be given of the father and mother is in
the self-revelations of their letters, many of which have
happily been preserved. In these letters are the only re-
maining records of Samuel Rogers’s boyhood; and some of
them are worth reproducing for the glimpses they give us
of various interesting people, some of whom are famous
and some forgotten, as well as for the picture they make
of the pleasant life a prosperous middle-class family was
living more than a century ago. The earliest in date are
from Mrs. Rogers, and were addressed to her husband
during a summer journey he took with Dr. Price, in 1772,
to visit the doctor’s native district in South Wales; and
a short stay Thomas Rogers made at his father’s house
on the way home. The letters, from which some purely
business and domestic details have been omitted, show
what kind of woman Rogers’s mother was; how careful12
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
of home concerns, how solicitous for her household, how
open to all the pleasantness of life, how entirely free
from that other-worldliness—as George Eliot has called
it—which is supposed to have accompanied a Puritan
ancestry and training.
Mary Rogers to Thomas Rogers.
‘ Newington Green: July 4, 1772.
‘ My ever dear T. R.,—As this method of communi-
cating our thoughts to each other is now the only re-
source left, it is with great pleasure I sit down to assure
you with sincerity how much I regret your absence, and to
endeavour in some measure to alleviate it by acquainting
you with all my proceedings since you left us. But, as I
know the anxiety that always attends you upon account
of every branch of your family, I must first begin by
assuring you that we all continue perfectly well. Tommy
is got quite well, and is in exceedingly good spirits. The
four 1 are at this time particularly happy in exercising
Obey’s nag about the field, and are very proud in showing
their horsemanship. Tommy has been twice to the bath
on horseback before Richard,2 and the horse carries him
extremely well. We went to drink tea with Mrs. Wilson3
after you left us on Tuesday, and had the pleasure to
meet Mr. and Mrs. Welch;4 Mr. Wilson also was at home,
and all conduced to make the visit very agreeable. On
1	The four were Daniel, Thomas, Samuel, and Martha ; Maria, the
youngest, was only twelve months old.
2	Sitting before Richard on the horse.
3	Mother of Thomas and Joseph Wilson of Highbury. Thomas
Wilson was the great chapel-builder of the Independents, vdiose life was
written by his son Josiah.
4	Mr. Welch was Mr. Rogers’s partner in the banking house.MRS. ROGERS’S LETTERS
13
Wednesday evening we went to town to see Mr. Raper 1
and Miss Raper in Norfolk Street, who both agreed to
dine with us at the Green next day, and Mr. Harry Raper
being there—and a bachelor at present—offered to be of
the party. The coach accordingly fetched them in the
morning to dinner upon beans and bacon, a couple of
chickens, and a piece of roast beef, and we widows and
widowers drank your health and Mrs. Henry Raper’s.
The two gentlemen and little Harry2 walked home again
about seven o’clock, and Miss Raper stayed with us till last
night—her father and self being to return to Wendover
this morning. . . Yesterday morning Dr. and Mrs. Grant
called on us and engaged us and Miss Sally [Raper] to dine
with them on Thursday next. In the afternoon Mrs. Dunn
and family drank tea with us. . . . Mrs. Price writes to-
day to Bridgend, but desires I will likewise mention that
she and Mrs. Barker returned home to-day, safe and well,,
about three o’clock, and very little fatigued with their
journey. They desire compliments to you, and many
thanks for the kind call you made them. . . . Your trunk
went this morning from the Saracen’s Head. Richard is
gone to have the horse shod, so I can’t tell the name of
the waggoner. Adieu ! my dearest T. R. I hope to hear
this evening that you are well, which will always afford
the truest pleasure to
‘ Your ever affectionate and unalterable
‘ M. R.
4 Thomas Rogers, Esq.
* To be left at the Post Office, Swansea, Glamorganshire.5
1	Matthew Raper of Wendover Dean, Bucks, father of the Matthew
Raper afterwards vice-president of the Antiquarian Society.
2	This little Harry was afterwards Admiral Raper.14
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
Mary Royers to Thomas Royers.
‘ Newington Green : Saturday, July 11th, 1772.
‘ My ever dear T. R.,—Many thanks for your very kind
and agreeable letter, which I received on Wednesday
last. I assure you I would have endeavoured not to
have merited your hint if I had thought you had the
least expectation to have heard from me at Cardiff, as
it is, and always will be, my highest temporal wish to
promote your pleasure in every instance. It gave me
great satisfaction to hear of your health last night from
Mrs. Price, but don’t accuse me of recrimination if I say
that a line from your hand would have given your poor
M. R. a little more self-consequence ; but I know you mean
always kind to me, and therefore I ought not to com-
plain. I called on Saturday evening on Miss Crisp, and
agreed for Patty to go to day-school: 11. is. entrance
and 21. I2s. 6d. per quarter, for which she learns reading
and working, and has five dinners per week. She began
on Wednesday, and seems at present very happy with it.
The boys left us on Wednesday in pretty good spirits.
Tommy continues his bathing as usual. On Thursday
we dined at Dr. Grant’s, and a most melting day it was.
There was no company but an uncle of the doctor’s.
They wanted us to have gone to Vauxhall in the evening,
but we excused ourselves, and agreed to accompany the
doctor and Mrs. Grant to Foote’s on Monday next to see
the Nabob. I came into it, as I thought it w-ould be agree-
able to Miss Sally Paper. . . She talks of leaving us on
Wednesday or Thursday next. The doctor says there is
no banker in London besides yourself who would haveMRS. ROGERS’S LETTERS
15
had the courage to have ventured on a journey at this
crisis. I suppose you have before this heard of Mrs.
Peach’s marriage with Mr. Lyttelton. I begin to think
that I have got a husband that is possessed of the art of
divination. . . .
‘ We heard the other day that Mr. Gordon’s Nursery
was in full perfection, and Miss Sally and Miss Mitchell
expressing a wish to see it we took a ride there last
night, and it perfectly answered our expectations. We
laid out ten shillings with them among us, and Mr.
Gordon and his son were extremely polite, and made us
a present of a most pompous nosegay, which consisted
chiefly of his most curious flowers, particularly some
charming magnolia flowers, of which tree he has scores
in bloom. . . We all happily continue well, and our
little Maria is as lively as a bird, and, in her mother’s
opinion, daily increases in charms. Master Packards was
baptized yesterday by the name of Samuel and yester-
day Mr. Packards himself was seized with a fever and
speckled sore-throat, and was obliged to sit up in bed
while his son was christened. They have had Dr.
Grieve, and he is to be blistered to-day, but I believe
they don’t think him in danger. Adieu ! my ever dear
and own T. E. May happiness ever attend you, and may
your own M. R. (if Providence spares her life) grow more
deserving of your love ! All join in love and compli-
ments ; and I remain
‘ Your constantly affectionate
‘ Thomas Kogers, Esq., jun.
‘ To be left at the Post Office, Worcester.’
M. R.16
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
There is a letter from Samuel Rogers addressed to*
his father while he was on the same journey. It is a
child’s letter—he was then approaching the close of his
ninth year—and it gives a pleasant glimpse of a happy
boyhood.
Samuel Rogers to his Father.
6 19th July, 1772.
‘ Dear Papa,—I hope you have had a good journey,
and hope my grandpapa and all my aunts are very well,
and my cousin Tommy Bowles. I went to school July 8th,
hut school began July 6th. I had a very pleasant ride
back again from the Pack Horse at Turnham Green.
My mamma chose to leave off dipping Maria.
‘ July the 6tli I went to Sadler’s Wells, and I thought
it was very pretty. Me and Tommy and Dan and
Patty and Hannah and Nurse all went together in the-
coach. At last the makerony started out of the floor,,
with a long pig-tail as big as my wrist, and an artificial
nosegay ; and came strutting about with his fine cocked
hat, and his hand in his bosom.
‘ I am, your dutiful son,
£ Samuel Rogers.
4 Thomas Rogers, Esq., jun.,
4 At “ The Hill,” near Stourbridge, Worcestershire.’
His mother follows this up with a letter dated from
Newington Green on the 21st July.
Mary Rogers to Thomas Rogers.
1 I had the pleasure to receive my dearest T. R.’s
kind letter this morning, and am rejoiced to hear he
spends his time so joyously—a proof that he enjoys-MRS. ROGERS’S LETTERS
17
health, and I hope spirits. Dr. Price returned home on
Saturday evening in perfect health, hut his complexion
has received a very different hue. He preached on
Sunday morning, and Mr. Pickbourne in the evening.
Mr. and Mrs. Burgh dined and drank tea at Dr.
Price’s. ... We went to London yesterday morning, and
called in Friday Street. Mrs. Bowles told me she has at
times suffered great uneasiness on account of the critical-
ness of trade, but that Mr. Welch had been extremely
kind to them in giving them assistance. Mr. Bowles,
came upstairs, and seemed in exceeding good spirits,
and said, I think, that he wrote to you on Saturday.
Bessy goes to school on Thursday, so I asked Mrs.
Bowles to dine with us, and offered to send the chariot
for her. Mr. Lisle’s house is again disposed of to a Mr.
Coxe, a refiner in Little Britain. Did you ever hear of
him ? My expectations are mighty small. Mr. Farmer
has resigned Salter’s Hall, his health not permitting
him to continue it. . . .
‘ I suppose you will receive poor Sammy’s letter
to-morrow. You will easily perceive that it was entirely
his own. He told me—a little rascal!—that he was deter-
mined to tell his papa that I had left off dipping Maria.
‘ Adieu ! my dearest T. Pi. Be ever assured of my
sincerest affection, and continue to love and think of
your number five and your own
‘ M. B.
4 Thomas Bogers, jun., Esq.
4 At 44 The Hill,” near Stourbridge.’
The letters continue in the same strain. On the 25th
of July she tells her husband of Sammy’s illness from18
EAELY LIFE OF SAMUEL JROGERS
the speckled sore-throat, which seems to have been one of
the terrors of the time. She had heard ‘ a good deal of
city news,’ one item of which was that a new bank—‘ Sir
Richard Glyn's house ’—was to open, with ‘ my Lord
Mayor at its head.’ In the next letter she reports that
Sammy’s throat is still bad, but that he continues in
charming spirits, and has no fever. ‘ Dr. and Mrs.
Price spent the evening with us last night, and Dr. Price
was speaking on what very advantageous terms they
were granting annuities on the Douglas and Heron bank
—provided the security was good—upon which he and
Mary Mitchell agreed to go to London this morning to
ask Mr. Welch’s opinion of it, and if they should hear
a satisfactory account of it to risk about 2001. apiece.’
Dan and Tom had gone to Mr. Burgh’s, as Mr. Burgh
was too ill to come to them. O11 the 29th, the day
before Sammy’s birthday, Tommy begins a letter, but
his fluency failing, as his mother says, she completes it,
complaining that the postman had slighted her, and
reporting a visit from Mrs. Cockburn, wife of the school-
master, to say that Tommy had fainted at school, but was
better again, and the doctor had advised some bark. The
last of this series of letters is dated on the 1st of August.
She tells her husband of a drive she had taken to South -
gate, to see the Miss Birches, but not finding them at
home she had gone on to Mrs. Jones’s, on the Chase,
* where we were received in a very polite and friendly
manner. It is quite a sweet situation, and the walking
about so pleasant that it was nine o’clock by the time we
reached home, rather too late an hour now.’ She adds
‘ I am afraid my T. R. will think me a racketting female,MRS. ROGERS’S LETTERS
19
but everybody admires the appearance of the horses, and
Richard says he is sure they have not too much work.’
Another item of city information is that ‘ Mr. Steed,
of Tower Hill, stopped a short time, to the great astonish-
ment of many, but he now finds that after everybody
is paid he will have an overplus remaining of io,oooL’
This letter was written on the ist of August, 1772,
and on the ist of September Sarah Rogers was born.
She was the ninth child, but, as three had died, the five
of whom Mrs. Rogers speaks in one of the above letters
formed at that time her whole family. In the succeed-
ing summer Mr. Rogers was away from home during the
months of August and September, spending the earlier
part of the holiday in a journey to Scotland, and the
latter part at his father’s house. Scotch tours were then
just coming into fashion. Mr. Thomas Pennant made his
first tour in Scotland in 1769, and the beautifully illus-
trated quarto in which he gave the public a lively account
of his travels, was published in 1771. It was very widely
read, and may be said to have turned the tide of holiday
travel northwards. His second tour was made in 1772 ;
but the three quarto volumes in which he told the
amusing story of his journey were not published till
I775,the year in which Johnson published his ‘Journey
to the Western Isles.’ Thomas Rogers went in August
177 3 over much of the ground covered in Mr. Pennant’s
first tour, and his wife sitting at home, traced his course
with Pennant’s volume in her hand. Her letters, of
which a dozen are preserved, are full of domestic, social,
and business details, and give further glimpses of the
family life at Newington Green. The earliest speak of20
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
tlie ailments of the children, of visitors, one of whom
had come unexpectedly to dine because he was sure lie
should not meet his wife, and of a lawsuit which had
been decided in which Mr. Rogers was interested. The
fourth letter is as follows—
Mary Rogers to Thomas Rogers.
‘Newington Green: August 17th.
‘ My dearest T. R.,—It is not in my power to express
sufficient thanks for the happiness your two last letters
afforded me. To know that you are well always gives
me sincere pleasure, hut to give me so near together
two such strong proofs of your remembrance to your
happy M. R. was indeed peculiarly kind ; and I can with
sincerity say, my dearest T. R. that on receipt of your
last letter I felt an affectionate gratitude that no words
can express. The children all continue well, and your
M. R. is also quite stout, though still but poorly. Mrs.
Newman and Misses Sarah and Ruth Raper are come in
to dinner, which will oblige me greatly (and much against,
my will) to shorten my letter. I have had letters from
M. M. [Mary Mitchell.] She returns home this week or
next and desires her love to you. Mrs. B. [Bowles] took
Patty to London on Sunday. She has got the measles
in a very favourable way. Mr. Field attends her.’1
‘ Dr Price is returned from Lord Shelburne’s; he
entirely cleared up his conduct relating to the India Bill.
1 Mr. Field, apothecary of Stoke Newington and Christ’s Hospital,
father of Henry Field of Christ’s Hospital and of the Eev. William Field
of Warwick, the biographer of Dr. Parr ; grandfather of the late Mr..
Edwin Wilkins Field.MRS. ROGERS’S LETTERS
21
He entirely disapproved of the measure, hut the Duke
of Richmond said the Parliament had no right to make
such a Bill, in which respect Lord Shelburne differed
with him and said they had a right.
£ Mr. Burroughs has accepted of the living. You said
I might give Dr. Amory1 an invitation to come and take
a bed sometimes on Saturday night, which I mentioned
to him on Sunday, and I don’t know whether he will
not accept of it next Saturday. We have had violent
storms of thunder and lightning, which have in many
places done much damage. Mrs. T. Rickards and her
little boy are gone to-day to Brighthelmstone with Mr.
Maitland’s family. I assure you, my dear T. R., I have
been a great house-keeper (I wish I could say a good
one). I have scarcely been off the Green since you left
me, not above twice or thrice in the coach. Adieu ! my
ever dear T. R.,
‘ And always believe me to be
‘ Your constantly affectionate
‘ Thomas Rogers, Esq.
‘Post Office, Inverness.’
M. R.
The next letters were addressed to Inverary, Dumbar-
ton, and Glasgow; the last containing the news of ‘ the
death of that worthy and great man, Lord Lyttelton,’ and
of a visit from Mr. Rogers the elder. In another, dated
September 4th, she says—
‘ I had a letter from my sister Mary [her husband’s
sister at the Hill] on Saturday evening. She says Mr.
Rogers is but indifferent, though rather better than he
1 Dr. Amory was the morning preacher at Newington Green.22
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
has been. She seems to intimate that it would give him
particular pleasure to hear from you. Lord Lyttelton is
greatly lamented, as must be imagined. He has long
been troubled with a boil, and constant physicking for
that, and uneasiness of mind, Dr. Ash thinks, quite broke
his constitution. He left his blessing for his son, and
desired he might be told that he forgave him. He was
speechless for some time; and at last, exerting himself,
called Mrs. Lyttelton,1 gave her his blessing, lamented
her situation, and said that in losing him she had lost
her only friend. He then called Lord and Lady
Valentia, blessed them, and hoped they would continue
to live in virtue, as that would give them peace at the
last. Mr. Rogers desires that you would give his compli-
ments to Mr. Lascelles, and let him know that he shall
be glad of the pleasure of seeing him at the Hill with you.’
On the 23rd of September she writes—
‘ I had the happiness to receive a very kind letter
from you, my ever dear T. R., on Tuesday morning, from
Warrington, and was pleased to think that you were
drawing so near to your poor deserted wife and her six
children, who will all rejoice to receive again their
rambling husband and father. You must allow me to
be a little saucy by way of variety, though in truth if I
was likely to indulge a grave vein the sentiments I con-
stantly feel would lead me to express my gratitude for
your unspeakable kindness to me during your absence,
your unwearied attention to your own M. R., and the
1 The wife of his worthless son, formerly Mrs. Peach of ‘The
Leasowes.’MRS. ROGERS’S LETTERS
23
kind assurances of love and affection that you were con-
stantly favouring her with. My heart sincerely exults
in the agreeable reflection, attended with the truest self-
congratulation, and determines to increase my assiduity
to promote his happiness to whom I am united by the
most tender and indissoluble ties ; and though above
thirteen years have elapsed since that—to me, happy—
union took place, I have the daily satisfaction to find
that the attachment of my heart is more and more
strong, and that the chief of all my temporal wishes
centre in him.
‘ We have this morning been taking an agreeable ride
that I have been talking of all the summer : it was to
see Mrs. Hanson and Mrs. Berthon, and we found neither
of them at home. Mr. Berthon lives on the Forest, just
beyond Mr. Bosanquet’s. It is a pretty part of the coun-
try, and, I think, vastly superior to Clapham Common.
Samuel Derrick, our Uncle Jo’s man, is come here
to-day ; he came to London on Sunday, and returns to-
morrow morning. He says all friends are well at Derby.
Pray tell Mrs. Bowles that all her young folks dined with
us yesterday, and were very well and very merry. We had,
also, two of the young ladies from Miss Crisp’s, and they
were altogether a joyous party. I was much obliged by
Mrs. Bowles’s letter that I received yesterday, and beg
my thanks for it. Mrs. Solly and Mrs. Neal made us
a long morning visit yesterday. Mrs. Solly says that
they were prevented dining with us early in the summer
by the children having the whooping cough ; and that
they intended sending to us the week you left home, but
were prevented by hearing of your journey. They,24
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
however, fully intend it, but must leave it till the}7 come
to London.’
These letters sufficiently indicate what manner of
woman Mrs. Rogers was. They have been carefully
preserved by her descendants, and have kept alive the
memory of her virtues as a mother and a wife. She is
described as a handsome and accomplished woman, of
much vivacity, popular in society, and tenderly beloved
by her own household. She was firm and strict in her
domestic administration, but so tender and gentle that
these were the chief characteristics which afterwards
dwelt in the memory of her children. ‘ I was taught by
my mother,’ said Rogers to Mr. Dyce, £ to be tenderly
kind towards the meanest living thing, and, however
people may laugh, I sometimes very carefully put a stray
gnat or wasp out of my window.’ So do childhood’s
lessons survive, and a mother’s teaching endures. In
Mrs. Rogers’s diary we get another view of her character
— see what Wordsworth calls ‘ the very pulse of the
machine.’ Like her father she was introspective, apt to
sit in judgment on herself, fond of putting her good
resolutions on record. In these ‘ sessions of sweet
silent thought,’ she, like Shakespeare in the sonnet, would
‘ summon up remembrance of things past,’ and in respect,
not of outward happiness but of inward character, ‘ sigh
\
the lack of many a thing ’ she sought. Into this secrecy
there is no need that we should further look. Such a
diary is a sacred thing, which only love and reverence
should scan. It contains passages from Dr. Price’s
sermons which show the great influence of his thoughtfulROGERS AND HIS MOTHER
25
genius on her inward life. It was a life nobly planned,
and her husband’s testimony, when with dimmed eyes
he read this record of her pious resolutions, was that it
was nobly executed. 4 In understanding,’ he says, 4 she was
equalled by few; in humility, good nature, cheerfulness,
benevolence, and tenderness of disposition, a constant
desire to please, and in the amiable discharge of every
relative and social duty, by none.’ She died on the nth
of July, 1776, three weeks after the birth of her eleventh
child, who survived her only a couple of months. Samuel
Rogers was then within three weeks of the completion of
his thirteenth year.
In his poem of 4 Human Life ’ Rogers gives a glimpse
of his own boyhood, and shows how vivid was his recol-
lection of his mother’s tenderness.
He walks, he speaks. In many a broken word
His wants, his wishes, and his griefs are heard,
And ever, ever, to her lap he flies.
When rosy sleep comes on with sweet surprise—
Locked in her arms, his arms across her flung,
(That name most dear for ever on his tongue,)
As with soft accents round her neck he clings,
And, cheek to cheek, her lulling song she sings.
Rut soon a nobler task demands her care ;
Apart, she joins his little hands in prayer,
Telling of Him who sees in secret there.
And now the volume on her knee has caught
His wandering eye—now many a written thought
Never to die, with many a lisping sweet,
His moving, murmuring lips endeavour to repeat,26
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
Released, he chases the bright butterfly ;
Oh, he would follow—follow through the sky!
Climbs the gaunt mastiff slumbering in his chain
And chides and buffets, clinging by the mane ;
Then runs, and, kneeling by the fountain-side,
Sends his brave ship in triumph down the tide,
A dangerous voyage ; or if now he can,
If now he wears the habit of a man,
Flings off the coat so much his pride and pleasure,
And, like a miser digging for his treasure,
His tiny spade in his own garden plies,
And in green letters sees his name arise.
Where’er he goes, for ever in her sight
She looks and looks, and still with new delight.
In the notes to the same poem Rogers says : 4 We have
many friends in life, but we can only have one mother—
“ a discovery,” says Gray, “ which I never made till it
was too late.” The child is no sooner born than he clings to
his mother, nor while she lives is her image absent from
him in the hour of his distress. Sir John Moore, when
he fell from his horse in the battle of Corunna, faltered
out with his dying breath some message to his mother.
And who can forget the last words of Conradin when, in
his fifteenth year, he was led forth to die at Naples ?—“ 0
my mother, how great will be your grief when you hear
of it! ’”27
CHAPTER II.
Rogers’s Boyhood and Schoolmasters—His Father—William Maltby—Dr.
Price and the Boys—Thomas Rogers’s Politics—Dr. Price’s Influence
—Samuel Rogers and the Pulpit—The Coventry Election—Letters
from Thomas Rogers—Samuel Rogers at Home.
The too early death of Rogers’s mother did not leave
the family without a woman at its head. When Thomas
Rogers married he went to live in the house of his
father-in-law, and he found there, living as a member of
the family, Mary Mitchell, who is spoken of in Mrs.
Rogers’s letters. She was the daughter of Paul Mitchell,
w7ho had married Mary Radford, the sister of Daniel
Radford, and she was therefore first-cousin to Mrs.
Rogers. Daniel Radford had taken his niece, who had
been left an orphan, to be the companion of his only
child, and she had lived with her all through her married
life, assisting her in bearing the burden of her house-
hold cares. Miss Mitchell was a capable and cultivated
person, whom the children looked up to as almost a
second mother. She lived on with them till the home
on Newington Green was broken up, and then with Mr.
Henry Rogers at Highbury, where she died. Another
of the ladies of the household was Mrs. Worthington, an
older and more distant cousin than Mrs. Mitchell. She
is the Milly of the family letters, and acted as governess
to the children.28
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
The kind of life the family led during Samuel Rogers’s
boyhood has been sufficiently shown in his mother’s
letters. In Mr. Hayward’s appreciative notice in the
‘Edinburgh Review,’ written a few months after Rogers’s
death, there are some speculations on his conduct and
character in boyhood, which Mr. Hayward borrowed
from a letter written to him by Mrs. Norton, who
humorously constructed an imaginary first childhood
out of what she had known of Rogers when he was
verging towards second childhood. Neither Mrs. Norton
nor Mr. Hayward knew anything at all of Rogers’s
younger days. He was the very contrary of everything
they describe in this futile attempt to construct bio-
graphical details out of their internal consciousness. He
was sensitive, impulsive, imaginative, and emotional, as
all lads who inherit the poetical temperament are. He
was not strong enough for much athletic exercise, but he
took his fair share in the games and adventures of boy-
hood. ‘His life was gentle,’ and his was just such a
boyhood as thousands of English lads are enjoying nowin
families of some wealth and much culture, with only the
outward differences that the lapse of a hundred and twenty
years has made. His father had ideas as to the relation
of parent and child which have become old-fashioned now.
He was a somewhat strict disciplinarian. His grandson,
Samuel Sharpe, describes him as having dressed, accord-
ing to the fashion of the day, in a brown coat, with great
amplitude in the sleeves, and worn a cocked hat, powder,
and a queue. The powdered hair was, in those days,
not inconsistent with Wbiggism ; a little later, when Fox
had set the fashion of leaving his hair of the colourHOME AHD SCHOOL
29
nature had given it, the Whigs followed his example,
and with them, at least, powder went out of fashion.
Thomas Rogers was what would now be described as a
Radical, as were all the Whigs of a century since.
Samuel Sharpe tells us that he had voted for the Byngs,
father and son, at every Middlesex election, except when
he was displeased with the Coalition Ministry. That he
was a good man of business his success may be taken to
prove. His household was conducted with the regularity
which became the chief person in a Dissenting congrega-
tion. He read prayers with his family in the morning,
and they were regular in their attendance at the Stoke
Newington Chapel. In the next pew to them sat Mary
Wollstonecraft, then a girl; and the pulpit was filled by
Dr. Towers in the morning and by Dr. Price in the
afternoon. Thomas Rogers was affectionately regarded
by his children, though in those days there was always
a certain distance between the head of the house and the
other members of the household. His children address
him in their letters with the formality now reserved for
strangers, and with them all his will was law.
Soon after his mother’s death Sam was sent to
his last schoolmaster—the Rev. James Pickbourne of
Hackney. Mr. Pickbourne had been librarian to Dr.
Williams’s library, of which Thomas Rogers was one of
the trustees. He had afterwards acted as travelling
tutor to some young men, with whom he had made the
grand tour. He was the author of a ‘ Dissertation on the
English Verb,’ and of another on ‘ Metrical Pauses.’
His school was in Grove Street, Hackney. One of the
most lasting friendships of Rogers’s life was begun at this30
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
school. This was with William Maltby, a near relative of
Edward Maltby, who was afterwards Bishop of Durham.
Maltby writes to his friend on the 12th of December, 1781,
of ‘ the many joyful hours I have passed in your company
under the confinement of scholastic restraint,’ and now
that school days are over, expresses ‘ the most sanguine
hopes of a pure and lively pleasure from our new corre-
spondence and increasing friendship, the latter of which
I flatter myself will neither be dissolved by diversity of
opinion nor distance of habitation, but will be as durable
as sincere.’ Such anticipations are often expressed, but
rarely realised. In this instance they were literally ful-
filled. The schoolboy friendship proved ‘ as durable as
sincere.’ It lasted for more than seventy-two years after
this letter was written, and was only dissolved by death.
William Maltby went to Cambridge when Samuel Rogers
went to business, though, being a Dissenter, he was
unable to take his degree. He afterwards practised as a
solicitor, and in 1809 was appointed librarian of the
London Institution in succession to Porson. He was
relieved from duty in 1834, but continued to live in the
librarian’s house till he died in January 1854, in his
ninetieth year. His schoolboy friend survived him, and
erected a tablet in Norwood Cemetery to his memory.
While Samuel Rogers was still at school, Dr. Price
suddenly bounded into fame by publishing his great
work on the war with the American Colonies. This
obscure preacher to a small and decreasing suburban
congregation had already become known and esteemed
beyond the little circle of those who appreciated his
religious teaching and admired his character. He hadLORD SHELBURNE AND LORD LYTTELTON
31
published in 17 5 8 a * Treatise on the Foundation of
Morals,’ and in 1767 a volume of dissertations, among
■which was one on ‘ Providence ’ and another ‘ On the
Junction of Virtuous Men in a Future State.’ These
essays attracted the notice of Lord Shelburne, who read
them during a period of gloom and depression occasioned
by the loss of his wife. Lord Shelburne asked Mrs.
Montagu, who had recommended the book, for an intro-
duction to its author, and thereupon called on Dr. Price
at Newington Green. The interview was so satisfactory
to both that it was soon repeated with important results.
Lord Shelburne felt the charm of Dr. Price’s simple
and unaffected character; Dr. Price respected and
esteemed Lord Shelburne for his serious earnestness,
and a friendship was begun which only ended with their
lives. This intercourse with Dr. Price led to Lord
Shelburne’s introduction to Dr. Priestley, and to Dr.
Price’s acquaintance with Mr. Dunning and Colonel
Barre. The same book which had brought Lord Shel-
burne to Newington Green soon afterwards brought
Lord Lyttelton thither on a similar errand. His
‘ Dialogues of the Dead ’ had been published in 1760;
fourteen years earlier he had written a work on the
‘ Conversion of St. Paul,’ and he now went to Dr. Price
to talk with one of the clearest thinkers of the age on
the transcendent themes in which he felt so profound
an interest. The acquaintance thus begun between an
old neighbour of Thomas Piogers and his next door
neighbour and minister at Newington Green was cut
short by Lord Lyttelton’s death a few years later in
1773. Dr. Price was all this time becoming known for32
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
his philosophical inquiries in another direction. He
had written letters to Dr. Franklin, which had been pub-
lished in the £ Philosophical Transactions,’ ‘ On the Expec-
tation of Lives,’ and £ On the Effect of the Aberration
of Light on the Time of the Transit of Venus; ’ and had
made a communication to the Royal Society on the proper
method of calculating the values of contingent reversions.
It was said by some of his friends that the labour of
these abstruse calculations turned his hair suddenly
grey. His biographer, Mr. William Morgan,1 says that
in this latter paper he had corrected an error into which
M. de Moivre had fallen, but thinking the mistake must
be his own, rather than that of so eminent a mathe-
matician, he £ puzzled himself so much in the correction
of it, that the colour of his hair, which was naturally
black, became changed in different parts of his head into
spots of perfect white. All this must have arisen from
his usual diffidence in his own abilities; for no other
cause can be assigned for his doubts and difficulties in
a case which really admitted of none.’ It was in this
same year 1769 that his celebrated £ Treatise on Rever-
sionary Payments ’ was issued. It was followed up in
1772 by an £ Appeal to the Public on the National
Debt.’
These publications had prepared the way for his
£ Observations on Civil Liberty and the Justice and
Policy of the War with America,’ which was issued early
in 1776. The outbreak of these fratricidal hostilities in
1774 had deeply stirred the public mind, and one of
1 Memoirs of the Life of the Rev. Richard Price, D.D., F.R.S. By
William Morgan, F.B.S.HIS father's politics
33
Samuel Rogers’s early recollections was, that on one
evening after reading from the Bible at family prayers,
his father explained to his children the cause of the
rebellion in the colonies, and told them that our own
nation was in the wrong and it was not right to wish
that the Americans should be conquered. When the
news of the battle of Lexington reached England—a
battle begun by nine hundred British soldiers firing
three volleys at the little troop of seventy men whom
Captain John Parker, grandfather of Theodore Parker,
had formed into the first line of the revolution—Thomas
Rogers put on mourning. Being asked if he had lost a
friend he answered that he had lost several friends—in
New England. The Recorder of London put on mourn-
ing for the same event at the same time, and Granville
Sharp gave up his place in the Ordnance office because
he did not think it right to ship stores and munitions of
war which might be used to put down self-government
in the American colonies. To this very strong and wide-
spread feeling Dr. Price’s Essay gave powerful literary
expression. It was written in the winter of 1775. The
battles of Lexington and Bunker’s Hill had taken place
in the preceding summer, and the Declaration of Inde-
pendence followed on the fourth of July, 1776, about six
months after the issue of Dr. Price’s pamphlet. The
time of its publication wras, therefore, most opportune.
The public excitement was more intense than anything
this generation has witnessed, and the book was so
eagerly bought that the printers, with the slow machinery
of those days, could not keep pace with the demand.
Dr. Price was urged to allow a cheap edition to be
D34
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
printed, and he at once consented though by doing so
he sacrificed his pecuniary profits. In a few months
nearly sixty thousand copies, then an almost unparalleled
number, had been sold, and Dr. Price’s name was in
everybody's mouth. The Corporation of London—then,
as in so many parts of its previous history, a really
popular body, representative of the best Liberal feeling
of the time—presented him with the freedom of the city
in a gold box, in ‘ testimony of their approbation of his
principles and of the high sense they entertained of the
excellence of his observations on the justice and policy
of the war with America.’ Fame brought its incon-
veniences together with its pleasures. Anonymous
letters were sent threatening his life, and he was obliged
to decline correspondence with Dr. Franklin on the
ground that he had become so marked and obnoxious
that prudence required him to be extremely cautious.
The populace, however, loved and reverenced the coura-
geous advocate of popular rights. As he rode in the
streets of London, on his old white horse, blind in one
eye, clothed, as Piogers remembered him, ‘ in a great coat
and black spatterdashes,’ Piogers says that, * like Demos-
thenes he was often diverted by hearing the carmen and
orange-women say, ‘ There goes Dr. Price ! ’ ‘ Make way
for Dr. Price! ’ The seriousness and gentle mildness
of his character surprised those who only knew7 him from
his works. When the Duchess of Bedford met him, at
her own request, at Shelburne House, his quiet aspect
and unassuming manners caused her great astonishment.
‘ I expected to meet a Colossus,’ she afterwards said,
‘ with an eye like Mars, to threaten and command.'DR. PRICE'S INFLUENCE
35
Gibbon is reported to have expressed similar surprise
when he met him in Mr. Cadell’s shop. The services he
had rendered to freedom were acknowledged in France
and the United States, and in most unexpected quarters
at home. Congress passed a resolution inviting him to
become a citizen of the United States, and to assist them
in the regulation of their finances. In later years Turgot
corresponded with him, Pitt repeatedly consulted him
on great questions of national finance, and a speech of
his in proposing the toast of union between England and
France was read twice in the National Assembly, the
members standing. He was one day at the Bar of the
House of Lords, when the Duke of Cumberland came up
and told him he had read his ‘ Essay on Civil Liberty ’
till he was blind. ‘ It is remarkable,’ replied Lord
Ashburton, who was standing near, £ that your royal
highness should have been blinded by a book which has
opened the eyes of all mankind.’
It is difficult to over-estimate the influence which this
admirable and estimable person exerted over Samuel-
Rogers and his brothers in the early part of their lives.
Dr. Price was no mere controversialist. He was content
with the service he had done to freedom, and expressed
the desire, after the issue of his second pamphlet, to
remain ‘ an anxious spectator of the present contest
with the satisfaction of having endeavoured to commu-
nicate just ideas of government, and of the nature and
value of civil liberty.’ He held high and serious views
of the responsibilities of his profession as a preacher,
and his excursions into polities and finance were only
occasional divergences from pastoral work. He had left36
EAELY LIFE OF SAMUEL EOGERS
Stoke Newington, in some depression at the smallness
of his audience there, and had become morning preacher
at Hackney, but remained as afternoon lecturer to his
former congregation. Political celebrity, however, brought
crowds to hear him at Hackney, and his sermons on the
fast days of 1779 and 1781 were published and very
widely read. His profound sense of the importance of
the pulpit impressed itself very strongly on his young
admirer and disciple Samuel Rogers, and led him to'
desire to adopt it as his profession. He used to tell
the story of his father one day calling the boys into
his room, and asking them what professions they wTould
choose in life. Samuel replied that he should like to be
a preacher. He thought there was nothing on earth so
grand. The wish was entirely due to his admiration for
Dr. Price and his preaching. It was afterwards overruled •
but a letter is extant from the Rev. Theophilus Lindsey,,
the founder of Essex Street Unitarian Chapel, in which
he states that he had heard an oration from Mr.
Samuel Rogers, who was thinking of entering at War-
rington Academy as a student for the ministry.1 The
choice is only now of interest as showing the bent of
Samuel Rogers’s mind away from business. The weak-
ness of his voice would have disqualified him for any
form of public speaking. His father probably saw, more-
over, that it was his imagination rather than the impera-
tive call of special faculties and endowments, which had
led to his desire to preach ; and there was no sign what-
1 I have not seen the letter, but the Eev. Dr. Sadler, the editor of
Crabb Robinson’s Diary, clearly remembers reading it, and his accuracy
is unquestionable,HIS IMAGINATIVE CHILDHOOD
37
ever, in any part of his life, that he possessed the
peculiar powers which can alone lead to distinction, and
to the large usefulness which accompanies it, in the
profession of the preacher. Mr. Dyce, in his recollec-
tions of Rogers’s conversation—recollections which show
on every page that they are chiefly gathered from
Rogers’s declining days—reports a freak which, small
as it seems in the record, is interesting as showing that
as a hoy he was greatly under the influence of a strong
imagination. There was a children’s ball at his father’s
house, at which many older people were present. Samuel
Rogers, then about thirteen, was dancing a minuet with
a pretty little girl, and at the moment when he should
have put on his hat and given both hands to his partner
he threw the hat among the young ladies who were
sitting on the benches, creating much surprise and con-
fusion. ‘ This strange feat,’ he said to Mr. Dyce, ‘ was
occasioned by my suddenly recollecting a story of some
gallant youth who had signalised himself in the same
way.’
He probably told this story because it showed an
unregulated and childish form of the desire for dis-
tinction which was an important element of his char-
acter as a young man. There seemed but little chance
of his distinguishing himself when he left school. He
was the third son, and his proper place, in his father’s
view, was a stool in ‘ the shop,’ as it was the custom to
call the bank. To the bank, therefore, he went. His
eldest brother, Daniel, had already gone to Cambridge.
Daniel was intended for the bar. His father thought
of him as the member of the family most likely to dis-38
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
tinguish himself, and probably anticipated his entering
Parliament and reaching the higher ranks of the pro-
fession. But Daniel never took either to the law or to
banking. He lived and died a country gentleman.
Thomas and Samuel were to be the bankers, and they
went to business instead of to the university. The
London of those days was a very different place from
the London of the present generation. Few of the mer-
chants or bankers lived, as the Piogerses did, away in
the suburbs. Some years later, when Mr. Jones Loyd
came to London he dwelt over his bank in Lothbury, and
there the late Lord Overstone was born in 1796. On
Temple Bar there was a ghastly relic which testified
to the barbarity of the times, for Rogers remembered
seeing one of the heads of the rebels still exposed upon
its pole. It was the London which Dickens has ad-
mirably described in ‘ Barnaby Budge; ’ the London
of the Gordon Biots. Rogers recollected the excite-
ment and the horrors of the time. He had already gone
to business when the riots occurred; and one of his
most vivid recollections was that of seeing a cartload
of young girls, in coloured dresses, passing through the
streets on the way to execution at Tyburn. They had
been condemned to death for taking part in the riots,
though in all probability they had done little more than
look on.
There is no reason to believe that Samuel Rogers
exhibited any strong disinclination to go to business.
The poetical temperament is often intolerant of drudgery,
but he had been too dutifully brought up to allow him
to waste time and strength in protests against conditions.HE GOES TO BUSINESS
39
lie could not alter. Such sentimental complaints as
Kirke White afterwards indulged against the employment
which was generously given him in Mr. Enfield’s office
at Nottingham, were not likely to arise from a boy
nurtured in the atmosphere of the Stoke Newington
home. It was a disappointment to Rogers that he was
obliged to take to business when all his tastes and
inclinations led him to literature, but he submitted
without repining. If banking was to be his work,
literature should be his recreation ; and if the one was
cheerfully done as daily duty, the other should be joy-
fully sought as a source of never-ending delight. He
never comtemplated making literature his profession.
He spoke of it as mere drudgery when it is made the
business of life, but thought that when it is resorted to
only at certain hours it is a charming relaxation. In
these earlier years he was a banker’s clerk, obliged to be
at the desk every day from ten in the morning till five
in the afternoon, but he never forgot the delight with
which, after returning home, he turned to the reading
and writing which occupied his evening leisure. In these
days, too, he was not without a lively interest in politics.
One day, in the general election of 1780, Wilkes came
into the bank to canvass Mr. Rogers. He was out, but
Samuel was able to assure the popular candidate for
Middlesex of his father’s sympathy ; and felt proud at
having shaken hands with him. Wilkes was a man of
good manners, but ugly and with a squint. He was
chamberlain of the city, and Rogers remembered seeing
him going to the Guildhall on foot, in a scarlet coat,
military boots, and a bag-wig—the hackney coachmen40
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
calling to him ‘ A coach, your honour ? ’ but calling in
vain. When Wilkes called to canvass him Thomas
Rogers was probably at Coventry, where he was one of
the Whig candidates. His colleague was Sir Thomas
Halifax, and the Tory candidates were Mr. Edward Roe
Yeo and Mr. John Baker Holroyd, afterwards Lord
Sheffield. The contest was one which attracted great
notice at the time, and the accounts of it which have
been preserved illustrate in a very striking way the
political manners and customs of the age. Daniel
Rogers writes to Samuel—
‘ Coventry: Septr. 14th ^1780].
‘ Dear Sammy,—As I have no doubt you are anxious
to hear of our health, and the particulars of our situa-
tion, especially at such a riotous period, I have taken
this earliest opportunity of answering your kind letter
to my father by return of post. Few words are neces-
sary to acquaint you with the state of the election. . . .
Yesterday and to-day the booth has been so encompassed
with a riotous mob that the poll has been adjourned
without proceeding to business. Every equitable pro-
position to prevent riot and confusion has been rejected
by Mr. Holroyd and Mr. lTeo; but the sheriffs are
determined to persevere in adjourning the poll from day
to day till the freedom of election is restored. At
present our voters are obstructed, beaten, stripped, and
endangered by a hired mob of colliers and others of the
like stamp. The whole affair will doubtless be misrepre-
sented by our opponents in the London papers, but our
friends are convinced we have the majority of voters;
and Mr. Briggs, who has examined the subject, and beenTHE COVENTRY ELECTION
41
remarkably active, is of the same opinion. . . . With
compliments to Dr. and Mrs. Price,
‘ I remain, your ever affectionate
‘ D. PtOGERS.’
This letter was written on the fifth day after the
poll opened. So great was the rioting that in nine days,
from the 9th to the 18th of September, only eighty-tliree
persons voted. The sheriffs, determined not to proceed
with the election till peace was restored, closed the poll
on the ninth day, and made no return. The new House
of Commons met on the 81st of October, but there were
no members from Coventry, and the sheriffs were accord-
ingly summoned to the Bar of the House and eventually
committed to prison, and on their release were repri-
manded by the Speaker. In December another election
was held, the same candidates being in the field. Party
feeling still ran as high as ever, and the prolonged poll-
ing, which lasted more than a fortnight, gave occasion
for all kinds of disturbance. The election is described
in a letter from his father to Sam.
Thomas Rogers to Samuel Rogers.
‘ Coventry : Saturday evening, 15th December, 17S0.
‘ Dear Sammy,—I have received several kind letters
lately from the Green, but, as yours was the last, I have
laid my hand first upon it. I wish I could have the
happiness to make one of your party this evening at the
Green, but, alas ! I am still confined to this region of
discord and contention. Coventry seems to be the place
where every unclean bird dwells, for of all the black-42
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
guards in the universe I think the Coventry Blues are
the greatest. They still seem confident of success, but
I think on Tuesday night they will have found out their
mistake. It may possibly end then, but not sooner.
Total number polled to-night—2,317. They have only
about forty more to poll, so that on Monday morning
we shall soon begin to regain the 150 we first gave
them. I have been a good deal indisposed by a cold;
but, by attending to it to-day, I am now much relieved,
and doubt not by Monday morning to be quite well as
usual. I hope to return to my children and family life
before this day se’ennight, and to exchange a scene every
way hateful for one of peace, happiness, and content. I
have sent you one of our new songs, which I hope will
please you. I beg my kind love to everybody.
‘ I remain, in haste, dear Sam,
‘ Your ever affectionate father,
‘ Thos. Rogers.
‘ Mr. Sam Rogers,
‘ At Messrs. Welch & Compy’%
‘ Cornhill, London.’
Mr. Rogers’s anticipations were realised. The poll
was declared on the 28th December—Sir Thomas Halifax,
1,319; Thomas Rogers, 1,318; Edward R. Yeo, 1,298;
John Baker Holroyd, 1,295. The Tories petitioned, and
a Tory election committee, as was inevitable in those
days, unseated the Whigs and gave the seats to their
defeated opponents. Thomas Rogers never stood again
at any election. Neither the morals nor the manners of
elections in those times were congenial to him, and his own
strong political convictions were in advance of the age.A BRISTOL ELECTION
43
There is a further curious illustration of the elections
of the reign of George the Third, ninety years before the
ballot, in a letter written to Thomas Rogers during the
Bristol election in January 1781.
John Robinson to Thomas Rogers.
‘Bear Sir,—I wrote you from Namptwich and
at the same time enclosed proposals from Harrison and
Houghton’s house, to which I suppose you have given
them an answer. I am now at Bristol, where they have
this day begun a contested election for a member in the
room of the late Mr. Lippintot, deceased. The candidates
are Mr. Cruger and Mr. Daubeny. They poll in tallies of
ten each. They have polled to-day (after squabbling about
three hours before the opening of the poll) six tallies each,
and nine single freeholders, so that they stand equally—
sixty-nine each. The Blues are, in their own opinion, very
secure of their election of Mr. Daubeny, but I think, myself,
from what I have heard and seen, that Cruger will run him
hard. He has by much, to a stranger, the greatest share
of popularity ; and if the gentlemen who manage for him
mind what they are about I am of opinion he will get
his election. They are extremely riotous, have already
pulled down the board that directed the freemen the road
to Daubeny’s polling-place, and knocked down several in
the street of Daubeny’s party. I shall be at Coventry
in about eight days from this, where I shall be very glad
to receive a letter from you directed to the King’s Head
there. If I can say or do anything there pray command
me. I shall go from thence through Birmingham and44
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
Stourbridge, where I shall do myself the pleasure of paying
a visit to Miss Rogers. Some gentlemen, before the poll
began to-day, taxed Daubeny with attempting to com-
promise with another party at the last election. As
you will see by the enclosed paper the Dissenters of all
denominations are for Cruger; and the Quakers—who are
numerous here, and you know are in general a quiet set
of people—were the first who mounted the rostrum to
poll. I can say no more now, and you must excuse the
incorrectness of what I have said, for there is a noise
here almost sufficient to crack the drum of a man’s ear.
‘ So must subscribe myself, dear Sir,
‘ Your very humble servant,
John Robinson.
‘Bristol: Jan. 30, 1781.’
Mr. Cruger, the Whig candidate, was defeated. He
had been Burke’s colleague in the Parliament of 1774
and made the celebrated speech in the House of Com-
mons :—£ Mr. Speaker, I say ditto to Mr. Burke; I say
ditto to Mr. Burke.’
Thomas Rogers the elder had died a few years before
this, and his daughters continued to live at ‘ The Hill,’
where the elder members of the family from Newington
Green often visited them. These visits during the life
of their grandfather, and afterwards to their aunts, were
something more than journeys to the country. They
were excursions into another social atmosphere, another
political climate, another world. Thomas Rogers w7as
there every summer, and his letters to Sam give a lively
picture of the society of the neighbourhood. On the 14th
of August, 1781, he writes : ‘ We were last week entirelySOCIETY IN WORCESTERSHIRE
45
taken up by Lord and Lady Yalentia, who were upon a
visit to “ The Hill ” from Monday to Saturday. This visit
has brought on another from this family to Arley, Lord
Yalentia’s house, which takes place to-morrow, and in
which I am compelled to take a part, We shall return
on Friday. I look upon these engagements as near a
fortnight’s loss to me. Tom left us on Sunday evening.
He intended sleeping that night at Lichfield, and on
Monday at Derby. The races were to begin to-day.'
On the 6th of September he says : ‘ We pass our time so
uniformly that I have nothing to communicate worth
your notice. Among the changes which have taken place
in this neighbourhood, chance has brought to Mr. Am-
phlett’s house at Clent a Mr. and Mrs. Blair, both
Scotch. They live in one of the polite squares, keep
many servants, live in a high style, and are famous for
musical parties. Mrs. Blair sings delightfully, and is
called “ the inimitable Blair.” As they visit a good deal,
and Mrs. Blair sings whenever she is asked, and without
the least ceremony, they are considered as an acquisition
to the county. But I am afraid they will not stay long,
as they are said not to think their house good enough,
and occasionally give themselves some consequential airs
of that sort which some of their neighbours do not seem
to relish. As Mrs. Blair is a lady of so much tone, I
thought I would introduce her to you. . . . We were told
last week that the combined fleets were in the Channel,
but we disregarded it; the papers to-day confirm it, but
nobody seems to think it a circumstance of any moment,
and I suppose the same torpid indifference prevails
through the country generally.’46
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
The visits to and from the Valentias were repeated in
later summers, and Mr. Rogers, in his frequent visits to
“ The Hill,” seems to have entered with great zest into the
pleasures and amusements of the country life to which he
had been accustomed in his early days. He writes on the
6tli of October, 1783 : ‘Our Assembly is fixed for next
Monday, which will give us pleasure on Martha’s account,
as I hope there will be a smart dance. ... It is so
celebrated a meeting that there are generally four or
five hairdressers from Worcester and Birmingham come
over to attend the ladies, as the friseurs of the town are
not found sufficient.’ In October, 1785, he reports the
first Assembly of the season at Stourbridge, and adds :
‘Four of your aunts and myself were there, and had
the pleasure of meeting Captain and Mrs. Cox and many
friends. He notes, moreover, two new features of country
life. The first mail-coach had been started at Bristol in
1784, and in 1785 mail-coaches spread rapidly all over
the country. ‘ The extension of the mail coaches, says
Thomas Rogers, in a letter to Sarah Rogers, on the 18th
of October, 1785, ‘makes the country towns very gay.
We have one comes from Birmingham to Stourbridge,
and from hence to Bewdley every day but Monday; and
the king’s arms on the coach, and the scarlet and gold
livery of the coachman, please the populace much.’
Another innovation of the time was the establishment
of Sunday Schools. The Rev. Theophilus Lindsey had
established such a school at Catterick in 1764, and Miss
Hannah Ball at High Wycombe in 1769; but the move-
ment had been made general by the success of the school
Mr. Robert Raikes had opened at St. Mary-le-Crypt inSUNDAY SCHOOLS
47
Gloucester in 1781. So in this same letter Thomas
Rogers reports in 1785, 4 Mr. Foley, the lector of the
parish, and several gentlemen, are very busy in drawing-
up a plan for Sunday Schools. Sufficient money is
raised, but the school-houses are not yet fixed upon, nor
the masters and mistresses appointed. There will be
about six for boys, and the same number for girls.’ He
adds a wish which was realised fifty-five years after-
wards by some of his descendants. 41 hope the gentlemen
of Islington and the Green will establish some in the
neighbourhood. I wish one or two could be established
at the Green, and the children brought to meeting, as I
know no place where there are so many poor people with
so little attendance upon public worship.’
The autumn of 1786 finds him again at “ The Hill,”
and he writes to Sam, who had just returned from Brighton,
of some delightful excursions they had made. ‘ One to
Downton, to Dick Knight’s Castle, and over a lofty range
of hills in that neighbourhood, commanding Hereford-
shire, Shropshire, and part of ’Wales.’ The other excur-
sion was to Mr. Harley’s at Berrington, near Leominster.
‘ The house not large, but taking in horses’ stables,
gardens, with the establishment of servants, the whole
may be called princely. No park and not much shrub-
bery, but some hundred acres of ground, beautiful in situ-
ation, laid out in great taste, and kept up at a profusion
of expense.’ In this letter he expresses the hope that in
Tom’s absence Sam will get early to town, and attend as
much as possible to Mr. Welch’s ease, doing everything
he can to relieve him from too much application.
In most of these letters he speaks of Sam’s health.48
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
In 1781 Sam had gone to Margate, and his father
strongly recommends him to take horse exercise, pro-
mising to send the brown mare if he cannot get a decent
horse by hiring. Sam had said something about dancing,
and his father expresses the hope that he will ‘ be SO'
prudent in the use of it as not, like Penelope, to undo by
night the work of the day.’ Year after year there are
references in the letters to a weakness of the eyes from
which Sam was suffering. He seems to have had a very
odd experience with respect to them. One of his poems,
is entitled ‘ To the Gnat,’ and admirably describes in
sixteen lines the ‘ whirring wings ’ and ‘ shrill horn ' of
the mosquito. If it had been written on Staten Island,
near New York, or in some other place haunted by the
scourge of continental climates, it could not have pic-
tured more graphically the possible horrors of an autumn
night; but addressed to our poor English midge, the
lines seem exaggerated, and Mr. Sharpe thinks the piece
might have been written in order that it might end in
mock-heroic style with Dryden’s line—
They wake in horror and dare sleep no more.
Yet Piogers always declared that the lines literally de-
scribed his own experience. In his young days the gnats,
at Stoke Newington distressed him as the mosquitos plague
an Englishman who without due precautions ventures to
sleep with an open window in some parts of the United
States. His eyes, he says, were often swollen with the
bites of gnats when he woke in the morning. This
annoyance was probably due to his weak health. Every
year during his clerkship at the bank he took longMARGATE IN 1785
49
holidays at Margate or at Brighton ; year after year sea-
bathing and horse exercise were recommended him by
the doctors, and he found benefit from them. His father
had to exhort him not to spend too much time in reading,
but to lay his favourite books aside and look after bis
health. In the summer of 1785 he writes to his father—
‘ Margate : 24 Septr. ’85.
‘ Bear Sir,—I arrived here last Tuesday night, after a
very pleasant journey. The hop-picking had thrown an
air of gaiety over the country, and women and children
were everywhere singing songs and filling their baskets.
The weather has been very changeable, and the showers
so partial that yesterday when I was riding with Mr.
Seawell (who is here, and boards in the same house with
me) a very heavy shower fell within twenty yards of us,
and we could distinctly see the drops. Margate is rather
full, but the height of the season seems to be past. Mr.
Seawell and myself propose to take a little trip to Calais
next week, and on our return to Dover I shall be met by
Mr. Joseph Collier, who will accompany me along the
coast to Brighthelmstone. Mr. Wm. Maltby is there for
his health, which is very indifferent, and I hope to stay
there a week or ten days. The sea has been very calm
since I came, and I have bathed every morning. As we
shall make easy journeys every day, I mean to bathe at
Bye and Eastbourne. Mr. Bearcroft and his family are
here, and are extremely civil to me. I walked down to
the pier this morning, and counted twenty-four West
India merchantmen, which are just visible on the line of
the horizon. I have found the sea air have the same
E50
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
effect it used to have, and my appetite is so keen that I
am sometimes ashamed of it. I beg my duty to my
aunts, and my love to my cousins; and remain, dear Sir,
‘Your dutiful and affectionate son,
‘ Saml. Rogers.’ ,
He was at this time preparing his first book for the
press, but there is not a hint concerning it in any of
his letters. There is, however, a letter from his sister
Maria, written when she was twelve or thirteen years old,
which supplies the material for a slight sketch of Rogers’s
evenings at home in these early days. Maria speaks of
being with him in the study when he is reading and she
is writing, and her only pleasure is to look up to him
from time to time, wishing to know his thoughts. She
speaks in most affectionate terms of his kindness in always
doing everything to oblige her, and says she is sure there
is not one brother in a hundred who so behaves to his
sister. In the Rogers’s house the law in the library
was that of silence when anyone was reading or writing.
Samuel could therefore sit and write comparatively un-
disturbed, and had not to learn, like Maria Edgeworth,
to compose amid the prattle of a family. Communica-
tion was to be by correspondence, and the letters were
put in a place in the library called the ‘ Post Office.’
There Maria placed her letters, and there she found her
brother’s answers after he had gone to business in the
morning. In this way a correspondence was carried on
between a brother and sister living under the same roof;
and Maria says of Samuel’s letters : “ If I am grave they
make me merry, and if I am merry I still continue so.’EVENINGS AT HOME
51
As Samuel’s eyes were weak his sisters sometimes read
to him, and it is easy to picture the pleasant scene in
the study on many an evening in those happy years—the
girls writing or reading or preparing their lessons, the
brothers sitting with them at similar work, and Samuel,
the literary brother, studying the poets or himself writ-
ing what he hoped might live, or, like a later and less
fortunate aspirant for fame, with old bards of honour-
able name, measuring his soul severely. In this way
he became an author.52
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
CHAPTER III.
Early Writings—* The Scribbler ’—‘ Vintage of Burgundy ’—‘ Ode to
Superstition Smaller Poems.
Rogers did not begin poetical composition very early
in life. He did not lisp in numbers for he was probably
far beyond boyhood when the numbers came. He had
been kept at school rather longer than Walter Scott,,
who was only fourteen when, to use his own words, he
‘ entered on the dry and barren wilderness of forms and
conveyances ’ in his father’s office. Rogers entered his
father’s bank when he was sixteen or seventeen, and he
made his first literary venture before he was eighteen.
He went to business later than Scott, but plunged into
authorship much earlier than his great friend and con-
temporary. His first printed efforts were not in verse.
They consisted of a brief series of papers published in
successive numbers of the GenMagazine. Like
most early efforts these essays are imitations; and as
might be expected Hr. Johnson is the model. Rogers
never saw Johnson. He records having met old General
Oglethorpe at the sale of Hr. Johnson’s library. But
the great autocrat of literature was still exerting his
undisputed sway when Rogers was meditating authorship,
and he felt for him not only the reverence which was
then universal, but that which young ambition feels forEARLY WRITINGS
53
old and established fame. One day, in early yontli, he and
his friend William Maltby went to call on Johnson at his
house in Bolt Court. £ I had my hand upon the knocker,’
said Rogers, in telling the story, ‘ when our courage
failed us and we retreated.’ Boswell told them many
years afterwards that they should have gone boldly in, for
the great man would have received them kindly. John-
son died in December, 1784—more than a year before
Rogers printed his first poem, so that he and his friend
■could have had no such introduction as the presenta-
tion of a book might give them; and it is not likely that,
in those early days, his literary friends could give him
an introduction to a man who would probably decline to
know or recognise them. Nor is there any reason what-
ever to think, that Rogers was sufficiently content with
his imitations of Johnson to have ventured to call his
attention to them.
These short pieces are only worthy of notice as the
earliest productions of a writer who afterwards attained
wide celebrity on a different field. It was the custom
of the Sylvanus Urban of those days to print in his
magazine short series of papers, under titles evidently
suggested by the Rambler.
Samuel Rogers gave his papers the title of ‘ The
Scribbler,’ and the following is the first number, which
appeared in February, 1781 :
THE SCRIBBLER, No. 1.
TJt scrip tor cyclicus	—Hor.
Prompted by the ambition of appearing in print the
.Scribbler here obtrudes his compositions on the public. His
•character may obstruct liis success, but it precludes disap-54
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
pointment, for no one can conceive very sanguine expectations
of entertainment from the Scribbler.
Though his Essays be not favoured with a perusal, though
the appellation he has assumed repress curiosity or excite con-
tempt, the satisfaction he will feel at seeing himself in print
will amply compensate the mortification of neglect.
If they be favourably received it will indeed be an additional
pleasure ; if not, he will not be dejected, nor, like Cowley, form
the chimerical design of secluding himself from society and
renouncing the chief pleasures of life.
He solicits the contributions of all who are influenced by
the same motives which he has adduced for the publication
of his productions, but declines a correspondence with those
who have the vanity to aspire to literary eminence.
This Introduction may be regarded as singular, but the
Scribbler disdains the practice of averting the displeasure of
the reader by servile submission, or by affecting that diffidence
which he does not possess.
Had he been a native of Athens, or had he even resided in
Rome in the Augustan age, he would certainly have never
conceived the idea of appearing in print, nor have been sensible
of the bliss of publication.
This is a species of luxury of which the Ancients were
entirely ignorant; which even the Despots of Asia had never
the felicity to enjoy. Applause can never be conferred adequate
to the merits of the discoverer of so exquisite a pleasure.
To his memory—to the memory of
FAUSTUS OF MENTZ;
Who by the invention of the art of printing
Has ultimately contributed more to the happiness of Empires
Than all the conquerors and legislators of antiquity,
This Bagatelle
is inscribed by his grateful admirer,
g	-*■
(To be continued regularly every month.)‘THE SCRIBBLER’
55
The same strain was continued in the next number,
which began by describing the raptures he felt at seeing
himself in"print. The third paper was on ‘Eloquence/
the fourth wras on ‘ the Ancients and Moderns/ and was
reproduced by Mr. Dyce in his Table Talk; the fifth
was a story entitled the ‘ Pupil of Nature/ supposed to
be translated from the Erse, with the statement that
‘ Shakespeare had probably seen it when he wrote the
tragedy of Macbeth ; ’ the sixth, ‘ On the Regions of the
Blest,’ a rhapsody, with Cicero’s words for a text: ‘ 0
prseclarum diem, cum ad illud divinum animarum con-
cilium ccetumque proficiscar, cumque ex hac turba et
colluvione discedam ! ’ The seventh was on the ‘ Temple
of Fashion ’ quoted below ; and the eighth, misnumbered
seven in the magazine, is on ‘Virtue/ Mr. Dyce thinks
these papers were ‘ quite up to the standard of the
periodical writing of the time,’ and some of them are
clearly superior to those which were published contem-
poraneously with them. The one which Mr. Dyce quotes
‘ as a curiosity,’ though it shows industry is by no means
equal in merit to some others of the series. That on
the ‘ Temple of Fashion,’ quoted seventy-five years after-
wards by Mr. Hayward in the Edinburgh Review article
on Samuel Rogers is perhaps the best of the series. It is
written, says the Edinburgh, ‘ with a freedom and rhyth-
mical flow which are rarely found in essayists of eighteen/
THE SCRIBBLER, No. VII.
Seel nihil est mactnum somnianti.—Cic.
t/
Reflecting the other evening on the influence of Fashion, I
insensibly fell asleep, and imagined myself suddenly trans-
ported into a magnificent temple, in the centre of which,56
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
elevated on a pedestal, stood a female of very liglit, capricious
air, attended by numbers of both sexes, who were burning
incense on her altar. But what astonished me most was that
the scene experienced a perpetual change. When she waved
her hand the columns of the temple, which were first of the
Ionic, became of the Corinthian order, the stucco wall ap-
peared hung with the richest tapestry, the fretted ceiling swelled
into a dome, and the marble pavement assumed a carpet of the
brightest tints. These, after innumerable transformations,
were revived, once more to pass through the same revolutions.
Whether she heightened with a pencil the vermilion of her
cheeks or clothed her limbs with a close or flowing vest; whether
she collected her ringlets in a knot or suffered them to hang
negligently on her shoulders ; whether she shook the dice,
waked the lyre, or filled the sparkling glass—she was imitated
by her votaries, who vied with each other in obsequiousness
and reverence. All united in presenting their oblations—either
their health, their fortunes or their integrity. Though
numbers incessantly disappeared, the assembly receiving
continual supplies preserved its grandeur and brilliancy. At
the entrance I observed Vanity fantastically crowned with
flowers and feathers, to whom the fickle deity committed the
initiation of her votaries. These having fluttered as gaily as
their predecessors, in a few moments vanished and were suc-
ceeded by others. All who rejected the solicitations of Vanity
were compelled to enter by Ridicule, whose shafts were uni-
versally dreaded. Even Literature, Science, and Philosophy
were obliged to comply. Those only escaped who were con-
cealed beneath the veil of Obscurity. As I gazed on this
glittering scene, Laving declined the invitation of Vanity,
Ridicule shot an arrow from her bow which pierced my heart;
I fainted, and in the violence of my agitation, awaked.
The publication of these essays in the months from
February to September, 1781, gave their young author
great encouragement. His nephew, Mr. Samuel Sharpe,HIS LITEEAKY TASTES
57
in his sketch of Rogers’s Life describes him as look-
ing forward every month ‘ to the day of these papers
appearing with boyish eagerness. As the magazine
reached him in the morning it was brought into his
bedroom before he was out of bed, and, month by
month, as lie cut its wet pages, and found that the
publisher had decided that his essay was deserving of
publication, he was more and more fixed in his purpose
to be an author.’ None of the later pleasures, even of
successful authorship, equal this, the first and earliest
satisfaction that is given to the ‘ last infirmity of noble
minds.’ It is not fame, but it seems like the promise
of fame. It gives young energies a sense of boundless
opportunity in which to prove their quality, and conquer
the empire for which they long.
The imitation of Johnson was a passing phase; and
the writing of essays was soon dropped for more con-
genial work. In the next year, 1782, we find him already
engaged in poetical composition. From the first he had
poetry in view, and his love of poetry, even his desire to
be a poet, had been known and recognised from com-
paratively early years. I11 1775 Mason published the
‘ Life and Letters of Gray,’ with an edition of his poems,
and Samuel Rogers, then twelve years old, read them
with delight. Some years later, when he went to busi-
ness, he walked to town in the morning with Gray’s
poems in his hand, and could repeat them all. He
admired the letters as much as the poems. They had
for him, he said, an inexpressible charm. He thought
them to be as witty as Walpole's and to have what he
thought Walpole’s wanted—true wisdom. But Gra}^ was58
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
not his earliest teacher. In 1771, the year in which
Gray died, and when Wordsworth was hut twelve
months old, the first and best part of Beattie’s ‘ Minstrel ’
appeared. Rogers was then a boy, and it was probably
a year or two later, when on a summer evening he took
down the volume from the library shelf and read the
story of ‘ Edwin ’ with that kindling sympathy which was
the stirring within him of his own share in the divine
gift of genius. He never forgot that first experience of
the poet’s spell. It might be described in Wordsworth’s
lines in his autobiographical poem—
Twice five years
Or less I might have seen, when first my mind
With conscious pleasure opened to the charm
Of words in tuneful order ; found them sweet
For their own sakes, a passion and a power.
This seems to have been the dawn of his genius. It
woke up the love of song, and sent him to study with
enthusiasm the chief poets of the time. He soon
turned from Beattie to Goldsmith, and from Goldsmith to
Gray. Goldsmith’s ‘ Traveller ’ was published in the year
after Rogers was born, and the ‘ Deserted Village ’ in
1770; and these were among the poems on which his
youthful fancy was fed. He soon went back, of course,
to older and even greater masters; but his boyhood’s
love of poetry was nourished by the popular poets of
the time. One of the sweetest bits of early praise which
reached his ears was the description of him as ‘ a child
of Goldsmith.’ But he was something more. It is
needless to say that a young man of poetical ambition
in the second half of the eighteenth century was aHIS POETICAL TEACHERS
59
careful student of Pope and Dry den. Rogers sat at the
feet of both these great men, but his preference was for
Dryden. His father advised him to study Pope’s
‘ Homer,’ but, with all his love and reverence for the poet
of the ‘ Dunciad ’ and the ‘ Essay on Man,’ he could never
like Pope’s translation of the ‘ Iliad ’ and the ‘ Odyssey.’
"When Cowper’sversion of ‘Homer’ appeared in 1791 he
admired it greatly and read it again and again. The
gentle singer of ‘ John Gilpin ’ and the ‘ Task ’ was, how-
ever, a contemporary of Rogers, and cannot be numbered
among his early teachers.1 Those teachers were Gray
and Goldsmith, Dryden and Pope ; but the influence
which the elders in the brotherhood of genius possess
over its younger sons, was exerted in Rogers’s case chiefly
by Gray and Goldsmith. Gray inspired him first and
Goldsmith afterwards, but he was himself from first to last.
In his imaginative boyhood when, like Beattie’s ‘ Edwin,’
though for reasons of health, rather than of feeling—
Concourse and noise and toil he ever fled,
Nor cared to mingle in the clamorous fray—
lie may have thought himself to be not unlike that
hero of his favourite poem. The excitement with which
he first read the ‘ Minstrel ’ was due to the sympathy he
felt with Edwdn’s dreams. Such revelations of intel-
lectual kinship come to every boy of sensitive nature in
■whom the first movements of great faculties take the
shape of ambitious hopes and plans. He does not
merely follow the great examples he admires but catches
inspiration from them. He does not consciously
1 4 John Gilpin’ was published in the Repository in 1783, and the
Task ’ was issued in 1785.60
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
imitate them, but hears and obeys the call of innate
powers to go and do likewise. This was Rogers’s case.
In some lines written in earlier days, but added to the
second part of his ‘ Italy ’ and dated 1839, when he was
seventy-six years old, he says of himself—1
Nature denied him much
Rut gave him at Lis birth what most he values,
A passionate love for music, sculture, painting,
For poetry, the language of the Gods,
For all things here, or grand or beautiful:
A setting sun, a lake among the mountains,
The light of an ingenuous countenance,
And what transcends them all, a noble action.
1 In the Common Place Book is the earliest form of these lines, and
they are entitled ‘ Of myself—a fragment.’
My gentle reader, hast thou yet conceived
A wish to know me ? Bear with me awhile
And ere my task is ended, thou may’st know
More than thou would’st. Fortune denied me much
Yet gave me, with a smile, what most I value—
A passionate love for music, painting, sculpture,
For poetry, the language of the gods,
For all or grand or beautiful in nature:
A setting sun, a lake among the mountains
The light of an ingenuous countenance
And what transcends them all, a noble action.
What though my ancestors early or late
Were not ennobled by the breath of kings,
Yet in these veins was running at my birth,
The blood of those most eminent of old
For learning, virtue ; those who could renounce
The things of this world for their conscience’ sake
And die like blessed martyrs. Health from my cheek
Fled ere the down was there, and rain or shine
From very childhood was my soul inclined
To sadness, such as few I hope have known,
Yet were my waking dreams, when health was mine,
Not undelightful.HIS EARLY PROSPECTS
61
Nature denied him much but gave him more
And ever, ever grateful should he he
Though from his cheek ere yet the down was there
Health fled ; for in his heaviest hours would come
Gleams such as come not now, nor failed he then
(Then and through life his happiest privilege)
Full oft to wander where the Muses haunt
Smit with the love of song.
There was not much opportunity to wander where the
Muses haunt in those early days. Nor was there the
slightest prospect at this time of that dignified leisure in
which his long life was to be spent. If he thought defi-
nitely of his future, the shape it took in the dreams of
his ambition was in all probability that which has been
wrongly attributed to him of the ‘ banker poet.’ If this
phrase, now often applied to him, has any meaning, it
describes a man w7ho is actually engaged in the business
of banking at the same time that he is cultivating the
Muse. This is what Rogers did in his early days—but
in those early days only. He was then and then only,
in the true sense of the words, a banker poet. It was,
as it were, by accident that he became the chief owner
of the business which was afterwards carried on by his
brother and his nephew on his behalf; and that he, the
third son, was put into the position of the heir. There
can be no stronger evidence of the confidence with which
he inspired his father, who was himself a prudent and
very successful man of business, than that the bank
should have been left in his hands. It is the most con-
clusive proof that could be given of Rogers’s devotion to
business and of his capacity for it. But when he began
to write he was not even a partner, and when he published62
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
his first volume of poems he was only the youngest
member in the banking partnership, with scarcely the
most distant prospect of ever being anything else. The
world has been assured that from the first he laid out
his life with a view to the social distinction he afterwards
■attained; but such statements have no foundation.
They have been made by persons who have written
about him in complete ignorance of the kind of life he
lived in his younger days. It was a life of steady appli-
cation to business, of going to and fro between his home
in Stoke Newington and the bank in Freeman’s Court;
of immersion for the best part of every working day in
the dry details of finance. This life of work was varied,
relieved, brightened, and consoled by the love of poetry.
The leisure which business left to him was spent in
literary occupation or in cultivating the society of men
of letters. But Rogers never dreamed of making either
literary or social success his chief pursuit. The oppor-
tunity for such successes came afterwards, and awoke
the desire for them; but that opportunity found him
behind a bank counter or in a bank parlour, as the
genius of his country found Burns at the plough.
His first poetical composition has never been pub-
lished. It took the unexpected form of a comic opera.
The world might never have heard of this production,
of which Rogers himself did not desire much to be said,
but for a Note which, in his * Table Talk,’ Mr. Dyce has
appended to an account given by Rogers of the time
occupied in the composition of his poems. In this Note
Mr. Dyce writes, ‘ I was with Mr. Rogers when he tore to
pieces and threw into the fire a manuscript operatic dramaHIS FIRST POEMS
63
—“The Vintage of Burgundy’’—which he had written
early in life. He told me that he offered it to a manager,
who said, ‘ I will bring it on the stage if you are deter-
mined to have it acted, but it will certainly be damned.
One or two songs which now appear among his poems
formed parts of that drama.’ This statement is only
partly true. The manuscripts, for there were two copies,
were indeed torn, but only a portion of each was burned,
and the remainder is still preserved. The story of the
offer of the opera to a manager, like many others which
Mr. Dyee has reported, was told by Rogers when his
memory was failing. The manager to whom it was sub-
mitted seems, from a letter which has been preserved,
to have been George Colman the elder. His letter, re-
turning it is dated from Soho Square, April 8tli, without
the year, and merely says, £ The little piece, herewith
returned, is, I think, a pretty drama of the sentimental
kind, but its success upon the stage must depend much
upon the music. Is not it a translation from the
French ? ’ This faint praise from the eminent author
of the ‘ Jealous Wife ’ and the £ Clandestine Marriage,’
was probably regarded by Rogers as equivalent to con-
demnation, and may have convinced him that his chance
of literary success was to be found in a different direction.
The piece was called ‘ The Vintage of Burgundy—a
Comic Opera in Two Acts.’ The larger fragment shows
that the manuscript covered eight-and-twenty pages of
small, clear writing; two of these have been completely
cut away, eighteen are roughly torn down the middle, and
eight are entire. Of the smaller manuscript much less
is left; but it contains a few lines which are obliterated64
EAELY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
in the other copy. So far as the two can be com-
pared, the difference between them is considerable. The
description of it as a ‘ comic opera ’ is not borne out by
what remains of it; but it exactly answers to George
Colman’s description, ‘ a pretty drama of the sentimental
kind.’ No steps seem to have been taken to get it set
to music, but there is on one of the manuscripts an in-
complete cast of the play in which the chief characters
are apportioned to Incledon, Johnson, Blanc, Mrs. B.
and Mrs. M. The little piece contained at least nineteen
songs, two of which are published among Rogers’s,
poems—‘ The Alps at Daybreak ’ and ‘ Dear is my little
Native Yale.’ Among those which have never seen the
light is one of which only part of the first verse remains,
the idea of which is expressed in the words of one of the
peasants, ‘ ’Tis the vintage to-morrow, and if you long
for the pure juice of the grape, you may eat a bottle of
Burgundy in the way Nature gives it.’ The verse may
be reconstructed thus :—
Let the grape’s gushing nectar ferment
And sing from the flask as it flows,
But with Nature’s [own gift I’m content],
I’ll quaff the [red juice as it groAvs].
There are some dancing songs, sung by a Burgun-
dian peasant girl. One verse can be reconstructed :
Each tender youth at every pa[use]
Breathes softly in his partner’s [ear]
What most can plead a lover’s [cause]
What most she hopes yet d[reads to hear].
Another of the peasant songs is :PEASANT SONGS
65'
At the close of a summer’s day,
When all danced over the green,
With my Lubin I stole away
To walk by the hedge unseen ;
And my heart went pit-a-pat.
‘ Ah, Annete ! ’ he said with a sigh,
‘ Could I tell you what I feel! ’
And I blushed, though I knew not why,
At the tale he would reveal;
And my heart went pit-a-pat.
With such softness he pressed my hand,
Such a kiss enforced his vow,
That I’d hardly strength to stand,
And I looked—I know not how ;
While my heart went pit-a-pat.
And when we returned to the green
So lightly we tripped away,
Such a jig had never been seen
Since the piper learnt to play ;
For our hearts went pit-a-pat.
One of the girls employed in the vintage is an Italian
girl, who has run away from a match her father wished
to force upon her, and is followed by the lover she
favours in the guise of an organ-grinder. She sings
the song ‘ Dear is my little Native Vale ; ’ and one to the
nightingale.
i.
Blest chantress of the midnight grove,
Descend and sing thy serenade ;
No parent checks thy little love,
Or bids thy ruffled plumage fade.
F66
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
II.
The moon shines through the dusky trees,
Her beams among the branches play ;
Let thy wild warblings swell the breeze,
And softly, sweetly, die away.
And when her lover finds her, and she will not accept
him without her father’s consent, they sing together—
Lucio. The opening floweret greets the dawn,
When genial dews impearl the lawn ;
Up springs the lark with carols clear,
When day spreads o’er the sky.
Maria. But when despair has shut the heart
What joy can any sense impart ?
Then, what is music to the ear
Or beauty to the eye ?
The piece, of course, ends happily. From the date
of 1782 given to the song ‘ Dear is my little Native Yale ’
it is evident that it was the first of Rogers’s completed
productions, and embodied much of his early poetical
effort. He had kept it by him very many years, and
had probably re-written and published several of the
songs it contained, besides the two already mentioned.
He might have said of £ The Vintage of Burgundy’—as
he did of the ‘ Ode to Superstition ’—that it was written
in his teens, and afterwards touched up. This elaborate
method was followed in everything he did—even in the
writing of a letter of more than common importance. He
wrote nothing in haste, yet he always reconsidered every
line at leisure. He said to Mr. Dyce: ‘ During my whole
life I have borne in mind the speech of a woman to
Philip of Macedon—“ I appeal from Philip drunk to PhilipHIS SECOND POEM
67
sober.” After writing anything in the excitement of the
moment, and being greatly pleased with it, I have always
put it by for a time, and then, carefully considering it
in every possible light, I have altered it to the best of
my judgment.’ This rule has the testimony of all
antiquity in its favour; but it belongs to antiquity.
The custom of the present day is to print at once that
which is flung off in the heat of the kindled fancy, and
the haste is justified of its children by the gain in
strength, and fire, though the gain is made at some
expense of that grace and polish of which Rogers is one
of the latest examples in English literature.
His second poetical composition was the ‘ Ode to
Superstition,’ which has been already mentioned. The
writing of this poem was one of the chief occupations of
his evening leisure in 1784 and 1785. Like ‘ The Vintage
of Burgundy ’ it was written and re-written, and was
published anonymously in the spring of 1786, with the
title, ‘ An Ode to Superstition, with some other Poems.’
It wras issued by Mr. Cadell as a thin quarto, at the price
of eighteenpence. The other poems were : * The Alps at
Daybreak,’ wThich had been included in the unpublished
opera, ‘ The Vintage of Burgundy; ’ ‘ Lines to a Lady on
the Death of her Lover,’ which were afterwards omitted
in the republication of his poems; ‘ The Sailor,’ which is
dated 1786 in his collected works; and the pretty song,
often set to music and included in collections of poetry,
entitled ‘ A Wish,’ and beginning ‘ Mine be a cot beside
the hill.’ In describing this first venture many years
afterwards, Rogers said, ‘ I paid down to the publisher
thirty pounds, to ensure him against being a loser by it.
¥ 268
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
At the end of four years I found he had sold twenty
copies.’ This was as discouraging a beginning as that
which Wordsworth and Coleridge made twelve years later
with their joint volume of ‘ Lyrical Ballads.’ Mr. Cottle,
the Bristol publisher, paid them thirty guineas each for
the copyright, and boldly printed five hundred copies.
The first piece in the volume was the ‘ Ancient Mariner,’
yet the sale was so slow that Cottle wras glad to dispose
of the largest portion of the copies to a London book-
seller at a loss, and he gave back to the authors their
valueless copyright. Rogers’s publisher was at least kept
from loss, and Rogers himself was not discouraged by the
small sale of the poem. The critics were more appre-
ciative than the public; he was encouraged by them to
own himself to be the author of the poem, and was soon
recognised as one of the promising writers of the time.
He learned too, from the reception of the ‘ Ode to Super-
stition,’ that it w7as not in lyrical poetry he was destined
to excel.
The first notice of the ‘ Ode to Superstition ’ was in the
Critical Review for June 1786. This magazine quoted
the first stanza of the Ode and added only two lines and
a half of criticism :—‘ This exordium, and the other parts
of the Ode are not inferior to it, is spirited and harmonious.
The lesser poems are elegant and pretty.’ A somewhat
longer notice appeared in the Monthly Revieiv for July
1786.	‘ In these pieces,’ said the reviewer, £ we perceive
the hand of an able master. The “ Ode to Superstition ” is
written with uncommon boldness of imagery and strength
of diction. The Author has collected some of the most
striking historical facts to illustrate the tyranny of the‘ODE TO SUPERSTITION’
69
daemon he addresses, and has exhibited them with the
fire and energy proper to lyric poetry. The following
stanzas are particularly excellent.’ The reviewer then
quotes the lines—
in. 1.
Mona, thy Druid rites awake the dead!
Kites thy brown oaks would never dare
Even whisper to the idle air ;
Rites that have chained old Ocean on his bed.
Shivered by thy piercing glance
Pointless falls the hero’s lance.
Thy magic bids the imperial eagle fly,
And blasts the laureate wreath of victory.
Hark, the bard’s soul inspires the vocal string !
At every pause dread Silence hovers o’er,
While murky Night sails round on raven wing,
Deepening the tempest’s howl, the torrent’s roar ;
Chased by the morn from Snowdon’s awful brow
Where late she sat and scowled on the black wave below.
hi. 2.
Lo, steel-clad War his gorgeous standard rears !
The red-cross squadrons madly rage,
And mow through infancy and age ;
Then kiss the sacred dust and melt in tears,
Veiling from the eye of day,
Penance dreams her life away ;
In cloistered solitude she sits and sighs,
While from each shrine still, small responses rise.
Hear with what heartfelt beat, the midnight bell
Swings its slow summons through the hollow pile
The weak wan votarist leaves her twilight cell,
To walk with taper dim the winding aisle ;
With choral cliantings vainly to aspire
Beyond this nether sphere on Rapture’s wing of fire.70
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
The reviewer adds : ‘ The picture of night at the end of the
first of these stanzas is highly poetical; in the second the
gloom of cloistered solitude is well represented.’ 4 The
Sailor ’ is described as an elegy 4 harmonious and tender/
and the reviewer concludes—4 the rest of these pieces have
the same character of chaste and classical elegance.’
It is probable that a critic of the present day might
make a different selection of stanzas for the purpose of
showing the chaste and classical elegance of the poem.
But these passages met the taste of the time. There may
be no conscious imitation in them, but they are evidently
suggested and inspired by Gray’s 4 Bard.’ It is needless
to say that this criticism gave the young author great
satisfaction and encouragement. He afterwards learned
that the writer in the Monthly	was the amiable
and accomplished Dr. Enfield, compiler of the 4 Speaker,’
and author of the 4 History of Philosophy.’ Dr. Enfield
had read the poem aloud to his family. Other criticisms
were equally encouraging. His school-friend William
Maltby writing to him soon after the Ode was published
tells Rogers that he has just received a letter from
Winchester, with the Poet Laureate’s opinion of the
Ode: 4 He thinks it has a great deal of merit indeed,
and that the reviewers have not given it more praise than
it justly deserves. He wishes much to know the name
of the author.’ The Laureate at that time was Thomas
Warton, whom Rogers never saw, but whose poem, 4 The
Suicide ’ was one of his favourites. Rogers had made the
acquaintance of Mr. and Mrs. Barbauld, who had just
established themselves at Hampstead, and a copy of the
poem was sent to them through the publisher. Mrs.MINOR POEMS
71
Barbauld writes on the 4th of September, 1786, expressing*
the hope that she is not wrong in addressing her thanks for
the book to Mr. Rogers. She adds, ‘ Charmed as she was
with the picturesque and striking beauties of the poems in
question, she wished to have made an earlier acknowledg-
ment of the pleasure she received, if she had known to
whom to make it; and was delighted when she learnt that
her thanks were due to the same gentleman whose conver-
sation had already engaged her esteem. Mr. Barbauld and
herself should be happy to improve an acquaintance
which so many concurring circumstances lead them to
value.’ Rogers was then three-and-twenty, and was
already becoming known among his contemporaries for
those conversational powers for which he was widely
celebrated afterwards.
There are two other short pieces written about this
period which give indications of the true direction of his
muse. The first of these is entitled ‘ Captivity,’ and was
said by Rogers to have been a favourite with Hookham
Frere, who said that it resembled a Greek epigram.
Caged in old woods, whose reverend echoes wake
When the hern screams along the distant lake,
Her little heart oft flutters to be free,
Oft sighs to turn the unrelenting key.
In vain ! the nurse that rusted relic wears,
Nor moved by gold—nor to be moved by tears ;
And terraced walls their black reflection throw
On the green mantled moat that sleeps below.
The second is dated 1786, and is entitled
Written at Midnight.
While through the broken pane the tempest sighs,
And my step falters on the faithless floor,72
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
Shades of departed joys around me rise,
With many a face that smiles on me no more ;
With many a voice that thrills of transport gave,
Now silent as the grass that tufts their grave.
These are early efforts in the direction of his later
and more successful style. It may be objected to the
stanzas written at midnight that tempests would not
‘ sigh ’ through a broken pane, and that ‘ falters on the
faithless floor ’ is too alliterative. But the perturbed
watcher sees his own agitation reflected in the moaning
of the wind, which he thus exaggerates into a tempest;
while the silence of the house is equally represented in
his mind by the faltering of his step as he treads the
floor, the creaking of which betrays his vigil.73
CHAPTER IY.
The Bank Partnership—Hackney College—Dr. Kippis one of his Literary
Sponsors—Helen Maria Williams ancl the Coquerels—Mrs. Barbauld—
Joanna Baillie—Death of Thomas Rogers, junior—Letters from
Thomas Rogers, senior — Visit to Edinburgh — Adam Smith,
Robertson, H. Mackenzie—The Piozzis—Tour through Scotland—
Burns—Henry Mackenzie and his works—Sir Joshua Reynolds and
Burke.
The few years that followed the publication of the ‘ Ode
to Superstition ’ were the turning point in Samuel Rogers’s
history, the period at which all his prospects underwent
a change, and life opened out before him with new and
boundless opportunities. As the third son he had only
the expectation of a share in his father’s growing business.
He had gone to the bank as a clerk, and in 1784, a few
months before he had completed his twenty-first year,
he had been taken into partnership. The partnership
deeds 1 show that Thomas Rogers the younger and his
brother Samuel became members of the firm on the 19th
of April, 1784. Mr. Olding, who had been principal clerk
for many years, was made a partner in 1771, at a salary,
and in June, 1778, his name had been added to that
of the firm, and his remuneration fixed at one-sixth of
the profits. In 1784, Thomas Rogers, jun., and Samuel
3 The deeds were in possession of the late Mr. Kemp Welch of
Woodlands, Parkstone, Dorset, to whom I am indebted for a transcript
of their contents.74
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
Rogers were introduced on similar terms. The profits
were to be divided into sixty-eight parts, of which nine-
teen were to go to George Welch, nineteen to Thomas
Rogers, sen., and ten each to John Olding, Thomas
Rogers, jun., and Samuel Rogers. The name of the firm
was at the same time altered to that of Welch, Rogers,
Olding, Rogers, and Rogers—Samuel Rogers being the
youngest partner, and his name the last.
He was already the best known. The publication of
the ‘ Ode,’ and the reception it had met with from the
reviewers, and especially from persons known or eminent
in literature, to whom he had sent it, had already made
him the literary member of the household and the firm.
He was known to entertain literary ambitions, and his
father at least sympathised with them, and did what he
could to advance them. There may possibly have been
a little feeling among his brothers and sisters, of im-
patience at his desire for distinction, or at the manner
in which it occasionally appeared. This may account
for one statement recorded by Mr. Dyce. £ In my youth,’
he reports Rogers to have said, ‘just as I was beginning
to be a little known, I felt much gratified by an invitation
to breakfast with Towmley, the statue collector, and one
night at home I mentioned the invitation. “ You have
mentioned that before,” was the remark’—in all proba-
bility a playful sally of his eldest sister, Martha. He
told the story, too, of Sir Thomas Lawrence, who on re-
ceiving an unexpected prize from the Society of Arts,
went with it into the parlour where his brothers and
sisters were sitting, but finding that none of them would
take the least notice of it, was so much mortified by theirLITERARY FRIENDS
7 5
affected indifference that he ran upstairs into, his own
room and burst into tears. When he narrated this story
of Lawrence to Mrs. Siddons, she in her turn exclaimed :—
‘ Alas ! after I became celebrated none of my sisters
loved me as they did before.’ Perhaps this coolness,
where it arises, is less the fault of the family than of the
individual. Fame is an exacting mistress, and demands
an undivided service. Social success can only be pur-
chased at a sacrifice, and the sacrifice sometimes is the
pieties of home. In these early days, however, no such
sacrifice was asked of Samuel Rogers, or was made by
him. He could only have spoken of a temporary mis-
understanding, due to his own eagerness; for there are
no signs in the family letters, that any but the most
affectionate relations existed between the father and the
children, the brothers and sisters, at Newington Green.
Mr. Thomas Piogers had, at this time, entered into a
new engagement which was very advantageous to his
son Samuel. He had sent his eldest son Daniel to
Cambridge; but he was fully impressed, as the PTni-
tarians always were, with the inconvenience of the pre-
vailing system of subscription to creeds, as a condition
of university education. As these barriers shut out
their theological students from the national seats of
learning, they endeavoured to provide means of acade-
mical instruction for themselves. With this object the
Hackney College was founded, and Thomas Piogers
became its chairman. There are frequent references to
this college in his letters. Among the tutors there were
the Piev. Gilbert Wakefield, and afterwards Dr. Kippis,
the learned and accomplished editor of the £ Biographia76
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
Britannica.’ Dr. Kippis was in those days a frequent
visitor at the house on Newington Green, and many of
Samuel Bogers’s early introductions to literary society
came through him. He had friends among all parties;
that hearty Tory, Boswell, while lamenting that he was
a ‘ Separatist,’ speaks of him as his friend, and in a note
to his ‘ Life of Johnson,’ in which he apologises for
having carelessly joined in a censure which had been
carelessly uttered, bears witness to ‘ the manly, candid
good temper which marks his character.’ Dr. Kippis
frequently took Sam Rogers with him to literary parties ;
and Rogers himself followed up the introductions thus
given. Dr. Price and Dr. Kippis were thus, as it were,
his literary sponsors. They were both Fellows of the
Royal Society, and had a large acquaintance among
scientific men. Dr. Kippis was also a Fellow of the
Society of Antiquaries. Samuel Rogers called for Dr.
Kippis one evening at Robinson’s (the bookseller’s), to go
with him to a meeting of that society. When Dr. Kippis
•came down he said, ‘ Tom Warton is upstairs,’ and Rogers
always regretted that he had not gone up to see the
Laureate. The only letter from Dr. Kippis which has
been preserved is dated from Westminster, the 14th
November, 1787, and is to inform Rogers that ‘Miss
Helen Williams desires his company at tea on Monday
next. She lives at Mr. Jacques’s, the first house in
Southampton Row, Bloomsbury, opposite Russell Street.’
In 1789 he owed to Dr. Kippis an easy entrance into the
best literary society of the Scottish capital.
Miss Helen Maria Williams to whom Dr. Kippis had
introduced him, was at that time living in London withTHE WILLIAMSES AND COQUERELS
77
her mother and sisters. She was a year older than
Rogers and had already attained considerable success
and reputation as an authoress. At eighteen she had
become known as a poetess, and at twenty had published
a novel entitled * Edwin and Eltruda,’ written in the
sentimental fashion of the time; and two years later
she had written a similar tale entitled ‘ Julie.’ Rogers
spoke of her in after years as a very fascinating person,
though not handsome, and he became at this period of
his life very intimate with her. She was a woman of
much conversational power, and had the charm of sym-
pathy and the art of bringing people together. She
was full of admiration for the French Revolution, and
in 1791 the family went to France with the intention of
settling at Orleans. They, however, soon removed to
Paris, where Rogers afterwards visited her. She was a
warm adherent of the Girondist party, and shared their
fall and imprisonment, and, but for an oversight, would
have been carried with their leaders to the guillotine.
She was liberated after the fall of Robespierre, and be-
came in later years an admirer of Napoleon. She trans-
lated the twenty-nine volumes of Humboldt’s ‘ Personal
Narrative ’ of his Travels into English, and wrote several
works on France which were a good deal more read.
She continued to live in Paris till her death in 1827.
Meanwhile her sister Cecilia had married a Frenchman
—M. Coquerel—and her son, Athanase Coquerel, became
the celebrated Liberal Protestant preacher of the Oratoire,
and representative of Paris after the Revolution of 1848.
Cecilia’s grandson, Athanase Coquerel the younger, was,
till his too early death, the genial and gentle, yet high-78
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
spirited and vigorous leader of the Liberal section of the
French Protestant Church.
Another of Rogers’s friends in these early days was
Mrs. Barbauld. The Barbaulds had settled at Hamp-
stead in the summer of 1786, where Mr. Barbauld was
the minister of a small Presbyterian chapel on Rosslyn
Hill. The congregation was one of those which had
already become Unitarian in theology. It is now the
largest Unitarian congregation in London, and is under
the charge of Dr. Sadler, the accomplished editor of
Crabb Robinson’s ‘ Diary.’ Writing to her brother,
Dr. Aikin, Mrs. Barbauld says,1 £ Hampstead is certainly
the pleasantest village about London,’ but she adds,
‘ except Avignon it is the most windy place I was ever
in.’ She speaks too of ‘ the long tea-drinking afternoons ’
which the calls of friends imposed on her, and remarks
with pity on the number of young ladies. ‘ One gentle-
man in particular,’ she says, ‘ has five tall marriageable
daughters, and not a single young man is to be seen in
the place.’ Rogers had already visited her when she
writes to ask him to come again. In the letter con-
veying the invitation, which her great-niece, the late
Mrs. Le Breton, writer of ‘ Memories of Seventy Years,’
dates in October, 1787, Mrs. Barbauld says—
‘ Your visit was so short that we wish to think of any-
thing which may induce you to make us a longer; and as
we are to have an Assembly at the Long Room on Monday
next, the 22nd, which they say will be a pretty good one,
1 ‘ Memories of Seventy Years ’ p. 63. Edited by Mrs. Herbert
Martin.MRS. BARBAULl) AND MISS BAILLIE
79
I take the liberty to ask whether it Nvill be agreeable to
you to be of our party, and in that case we have a bed
at your service. I could, I am sure, have my petition
supported by a round robin of the young ladies of
Hampstead, which would act like a spell and oblige your
attendance; but, not being willing to make use of such
compulsory methods, I will only say how much pleasure
it would give to,
‘ Sir, your obliged and obedient servant,
‘ A. Barbauld.’
She adds a postscript to say that their dinner hour
is half after three. This invitation was probably ac-
eepted, and Bogers kept the letter all his life. He told
Mr. Dyce that he used to go to the Hampstead Assem-
blies when he was young, that there was much good
company there, and that he had sometimes danced four
or five minuets in one evening. The acquaintance with
Mrs. Barbauld soon became intimate, and the friendship
continued unbroken till her death in 1825.
Among the friends whom he made during these visits
to Hampstead was Miss Joanna Baillie. Miss Baillie
was a year older than Bogers, and died only four years
before him, in her ninetieth year. In these early days
she was unknown as an authoress, and Mrs. Barbauld
says, ‘ came to Mr. Barbauld’s meeting with as innocent
a face as if she had not written a line.’ Even after the
publication of the first volume of her ‘ Plays of the
Passions ’ in 1799, she kept the secret of her authorship,
though the warmest admiration of her writings was
expressed in her presence. ‘ The unsuspected author80
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
lay snug,’ says Miss Aikin, ‘in the asylum of her taci-
turnity.’ Her intercourse with Rogers was constant, and
large numbers of her letters have been preserved, but
they are of small importance, and are as a rule without
a trace of date. Her brother, Dr. Matthew Baillie, the
eminent physician, who lived with her, was the succes-
sor of Dr. William Hunter in his anatomical professor-
ship.
It was in the year 1788 that the first great change
in the prospects of Samuel Rogers took place. His eldest
brother Daniel was at Cambridge. Daniel Rogers had
definitely chosen a career which had left the banking
business to his two younger brothers, Thomas and
Samuel. He was not adapted for business, and his
father did not leave him, in his will, even the estates in
Worcestershire and elsewhere which had come to him by
inheritance or had been acquired during his life. Sir
Egerton Bridges in his chatty and egotistical autobio-
graphy speaks of Daniel Rogers as one of his fellow-
collegians, a very clever man, who had an amazing
memory and read much, but he adds, ‘ I never saw any
of his compositions.’ Daniel Rogers, in fact, did not
become an author. He preferred the life of a country
squire. Samuel Sharpe, his nephew, speaks of him as
‘ a man of delightfully simple mind, a great reader, and
throughout life an earnest student of the ancient and
Eastern languages.’ In the autobiographical sketch I
have quoted in his memoir (p. 18) Samuel Sharpe further
says of his uncle Daniel: ‘ He was of delightful guile-
less simplicity, without a thought that was hidden from
you, and was liked by all his acquaintance. His fatherDANIEL AND THOMAS EOGEES
81
meant him for the Bar, and had great hopes of his being
a distinguished man. But he did not like the law: he
preferred classics. He married his cousin, Martha
Bowles, and went to live in the country, much to his
father’s disappointment. He dwelt first at Lincoln,
where he was intimate with Dr. Paley, but he afterwards
removed to ^Vassal Grove, near Hagley, where he had a
farm. There I visited him, and spent my time most
delightfully, sometimes rambling in Hagley Park with
his daughters, sometimes walking over the farm with
him and then returning to his study, where he would
pull down book after book to follow a reference or trace
a thought, with an enthusiasm and richness of memory
that was most encouraging to anybody fond of know-
ledge. He had at that time been studying Persian.’
These tastes and this disposition in the eldest brother
quite sufficiently account for the abandonment of the
bank and all its concerns to the younger brothers.
Thomas Bogers, the second son, was eighteen months
older than Samuel, and appears to have been devoted to
business. Pie had neither his elder brother’s distaste
for it, nor his younger brother’s literary ambition. He
would naturally have been his father’s successor in the
management of the bank; and his diligence and care
justified the confidence reposed in him. He and Samuel
had become partners at the same time and on the same
terms, and the relations between them w’ere those of
perfect confidence. They dined together every day with
Mr. Olding, who was the resident partner, and lived over
the bank. At holiday seasons they were away from
business by turns; and their father wrote to them with
a82
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
equal fulness and confidence respecting business and
family matters during his somewhat prolonged absences
from town. There are no references in the family corre-
spondence to any ill-health of Thomas—though such
references are frequent with respect to Samuel—but there
is only the brief record that he died on the 15th of April,
1788. He was then in his twenty-seventh year. The
last letter from him is dated the 13th of August, 1787,
and tells his father of a journey he had just taken to
Ostend and Bruges, and of Sam’s setting out for Launde
at the end of that week or the beginning of the next.
His father replies on the 16th from Derby, and enters
into a good deal of business detail. Thomas’s death is
spoken of by Samuel in the second part of ‘ The Pleasures
of Memory,’ where, after saying that
as the softening hand of Time endears
The joys and sorrows of our infant years,
so, in a brighter world,
the soul, released from human strife
Smiles at the little cares and ills of life ;
and after imagining the spirits of the dead descending
to watch the silent slumbers of a friend, he invokes his
brother—
0 Thou ! with whom my heart was wont to share,
From Reason’s dawn each pleasure and each care;
With whom, alas ! I fondly hoped to know
The humble walks of happiness below ;
If thy blest nature now unites above
An angel’s pity with a brother’s love,
Still o’er my life preserve thy mild control
Correct my views and elevate my soul;THOMAS AND HENRY ROGERS
83
Grant me tliy peace and purity of mind,
Devout, yet cheerful, active yet resigned
Grant me, like thee, whose heart knew no disguise,
Whose blameless wishes never aimed to rise
To meet the changes Time and Chance present,
With modest dignity and calm content.
When thy last breath ere Nature sank to rest,
Thy meek submission to thy God expressed,
When thy last look, ere thought and feeling fled,
A mingled gleam of hope and triumph shed,
m
What to thy soul its glad assurance gave,
Its hope in death, its triumph o’er the grave ?
The sweet remembrance of unblemished youth
The still inspiring voice of Innocence and Truth I
Nothing can be added to this admirable description of
Thomas Bogers’s character; and no better account can
be given of the relations between the two brothers, or of
the death of Thomas.
Henry Bogers, the youngest son, was at this time in
his fourteenth year, and was receiving his education at
the Hackney College. Samuel was consequently left
alone with his father in the bank. He had already
shown much capacity for business, and the larger re-
sponsibility which now fell upon him found him fully pre-
pared by character, training, and experience to meet it.
‘ He became,’ says Mr. Sharpe, ‘ the friend and adviser
upon whom the father relied for help in all matters of
business.’ At the end of the year in which Thomas died,
his father was again out of health, and was advised to
take the Bath waters. Sam was now his chief corre-
spondent at home, and the letters which passed from one
to the other show the complete confidence which existed84	EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
between father and son. In one of the letters is an
interesting sketch of the company in a hoarding-house
where Mr. Rogers and his servant Thomas were taking
their meals.
‘ I like my lodging-liome exceedingly, and Mrs. Cottle
is very kind and obliging to me. There is only one other
lodger in the house—Sir Gervase Clifton, who has the
drawing-room floor ; I have the dining floor. The worst
of it is Mrs. Cottle has declined keeping a boarding
table, but very strongly recommended me to a neigh-
bour three doors from her, and where Thomas and I
board. The company is strangely made up indeed, and
consists of Sir Gervase, a perfect Nimrod and a very fine
specimen of a country knight or squire; M. de Linne, a
French gentleman, young, lively, and sensible, who
talks English tolerably well, and has been two years
amusing himself in England ; Mr. Tann, a young Ger-
man, who speaks all the European languages, is a great
traveller, who laughs, talks loud, and is very comical;
Major Bennet, in the East India Service, who was very
near being taken by Tippoo with General Matthews,
but escaped captivity and perhaps death by being
left sick in quarters a few days before—the Major is
very good-natured, quiet and civil, but very gouty, and
I am afraid not very rich, having no servant with him ;
a Mr. Lawley, an old gentleman from Warwickshire, a
relative of the county member, one of the most wretched
beings I ever saw. He seems perfectly well, but says that
such is the state of his nerves that nobody can have any
conception of the miserable manner in which he passesHIS FATHER'S LETTERS
85
liis days and nights; he has long been in this way,
always complaining but never pitied. The last of our
males I shall mention is a very well-behaved young
Irishman, who has lately taken orders and serves as our
chaplain.’
The account of the women at table is defective, being
torn by the seal. Another letter to Sam, dated Tuesday,
6th January, 1789, is worth quoting, as showing what
the winter journey from Bath to London was nearly a
hundred years ago.
‘ The severity of the weather has compelled me to
give up all thoughts of riding any part of the way to
town, and I have just taken a place in a two-day coach
that leaves Bath to-morrow morning at eight o’clock.
It stops all night at Newbury, and gets to Piccadilly the
next day about four o’clock. You will be so good, there-
fore, as to order William to be at the White Horse Cellar,
or coffee-house, Piccadilly, at four o'clock on Thursday
afternoon with the coach. But as the cold will probably
continue to be very intense he had better put up the horses
as near to the White Horse as he can; and be in waiting
at the White Horse till the coach comes in. Before I took
my place I learnt that three places were before taken, so
that I hope we shall keep each other from freezing.’
In the summer of this year Samuel Ptogers made a
journey to the north of England and Scotland, of which
he has left some very interesting records in the shape of
letters and diaries. He had just entered his twenty-
seventh year, and among literary people was already86
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
beginning to be known as the author of a volume of
poems, and as a young man of much conversational
power. The journey was made on horseback, with a
servant on a second horse. The route was by way of
Stamford to York, Leeds, and Harrogate, through Settle
and Ingleton to Lancaster, thence by Kydal, Keswick,
and Penrith to Carlisle, thence by Hawick, Selkirk, and
Melrose to Edinburgh; from Edinburgh to Stirling,
thence to Crieff and Inverary, back to Glasgow, and
returning by Dumfries, Carlisle, Appleby, across York-
shire, and through Mansfield, Nottingham, Leicester, and
Northampton to London. The tour extended from about
Midsummer Day to the end of the first week in August.
Two letters to his sister Sarah will appropriately intro-
duce the Diary, which more fully records his conversa-
tions and observations.
4 Keswick, July 8 [1789].
‘ Dear Sarah,—I have this moment received Mrs.
Mitchell’s kind letter, and desire my best thanks to her
for it. I have also to thank you for yours which I re-
ceived at Lancaster. I wrote thence to Mrs. W. and
hope she has heard from me before this. On Friday
morning I left Lancaster, and arrived that evening at
Lowwood, a very pleasant lone house on the banks of
Windermere. The next morning I sailed on the water,
and had a few thunder-showers, but enjoyed the day
exceedingly. In the evening saw some waterfalls near
Ambleside, and returned to Lowwood, where the moon
played deliciously on the water. On Sunday I went to
church at Grasmere on my way to Keswick, and after-
wards proceeded towards that place, but was soon over-AT THE LAKES
87
taken by a heavy rain and obliged to shelter in the Yale
of St. John. There I stayed till nine at night, when,
though the rain did not abate, I was obliged to go for-
ward, and had a very unpleasant ride through one of
the most romantic tracts of country in Cumberland.
The next morning proved very fine, and I rode round the
lake of Derwentwater, saw Lodore waterfall, and the
Grange and Straits of Borrowdale. In the evening I
w7alked in Crow Park, a favourite spot of Gray’s. The
next morning proving very clear I was induced to mount
Skiddaw in company with a young lady from Penrith
(very handsome and very musical), Mr. Ewer, a first
cousin of Mr. Ewer of Clapham, and Dr. Coyte, a phy-
sician at Ipswich who has left off practice, a great
botanist and a very agreeable man. We rode on horse-
back to the summit, from whence we had a very fine view
of Scotland, over Solway Firth, with the Isle of Man.
Many of the lakes and mountains of Cumberland com-
posed the foreground. When we descended, we dined at
a charming house that looks directly up Bassentliwaite
lake, and returned along one of its sides to Keswick. We
had a very rainy evening. This morning I rode with
the guide up the vales of Buttermere, Lorton, and New-
lands; places that my father is well acquainted with
most probably, and in the evening went out on the lake
of Keswick. In returning from ray ride about six o’clock
I was wet through, but this was the second time only
that I have been obliged to change everything. I often
change my stockings twice a day, but in general I con-
sider myself as tolerably fortunate in the weather,
though confinement at an inn to a single man is rather88	EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
dull. From the rain I derive some advantages. The
waterfalls are improved by it, and it affords me a
decent excuse for calling at the farm-houses and cottages
on the road, where I always find the heartiest welcome,
and am delighted with the simplicity and native polite-
ness of the inhabitants. To-morrow I hid adieu to
Iveswick, and after spending a day or two at Ulleswater
shall proceed to Carlisle and Edinburgh. Any letter
written to me on or before Wednesday next, may he
directed to me at Edinburgh. I hope Henry has re-
covered his spirits before this, indeed I don’t doubt it.
Pray give my kind love and duty to my father and
[remember me] affectionately to Mrs. M. and Milly.
Tell1 ... I won’t trouble her to write to me. I will . . .
her to read such letters as I write. [My ex]cuse for
them is that they are generally [hurried] over when I am
tired and heavy and impatient. Adieu ! dear Sarah,
believe me to [remain],
‘ Your affectionate friend and [brother],
‘ Samuel Rogers.
‘ P.S. I wrote to Patty from Lancaster, and to . . .
from Keswick. I like my servant exceedingly ; he takes
great care of my horses, which are both well. I have
got rid of my cold. I have just read in the papers of the
duel between Colonel Lenox and Mr. Swift. I am sorry
to find the result of it, as Mr. Swift is a very agreeable,
sensible man. You may remember my mentioning that
I drank tea with him last time at Mrs. Williams’s house.
With respect to Hr. Kippis, if he has not sent the letters
1 Parts are obliterated by being torn in opening the seal.VISIT TO EDINBURGH
89
he promised me, there would, I think be no impropriety
in just sending to inform him that you were sending to
me at Edinburgh, and to ask him if he has any letter or
commission to convey thither, as I had mentioned my
expectation of something of the kind. Indeed, he told
me that he should at the same time contrive to transact
some real business with each of the gentlemen he wrote
to. But I would not have it done if thought in the least
improper, though I know Dr. Kippis is the last man
in the world to take the least umbrage at it.
c Miss Sarah Rogers,
4 Newington Green, Middlesex.’
Another letter gives an account of his visit to
Edinburgh—
4 Stirling : July 21st, 1789.
‘ My dear Sarah,—I received your kind letter on
Friday at Edinburgh, which gave me great pleasure, as
it assured me that you were all well. In consequence of
the letters my father was so kind as to enclose to me my
time passed so pleasantly there that I should have left it
with regret, if the Highlands ha d not promised me ample
amends. Saturday morning proving rainy I could not
resist the temptation of staying till Sunday, and I heard
Dr. Pobertson in the morning, and Dr. Blair in the
afternoon. They are neither of them orators, but Dr.
Piobertson has a serious, unaffected manner which pleased
me very much. Dr. Blair is very pompous in his delivery,
and all the great and fashionable attend at his church.
He gave us a sermon on censoriousness, which I under-
stand is soon to be published, with some others, in a third
volume. I have dined twice at Mr. Adam Smith’s, who90
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
is a very friendly, agreeable man, and I should have
dined and supped with him almost every day if I had
accepted all his invitations. He took me to a club, which
is very select, and consists of all the first men in Edin-
burgh. At his house I met Mr. Mackenzie, author of
‘ The Man of Feeling,’ &c., who invited me very politely,
but I had the resolution to refuse. Hr. Robertson called
upon me twice, when I had the ill luck to be out, but I
saw him twice at his own house, and I shall always think
of Edinburgh with gratitude, for the many instances
of attention and civility I met with there; indeed, if I
were to judge from my own experience, I should think
that the inhabitants (at least the most eminent of them)
devoted their whole time to the entertainment of
strangers. Hr. Robertson’s deafness affects his spirits
very much, but with the assistance of a trumpet he can
converse with tolerable ease to himself and other people,
and is very entertaining.
‘ I have been very much struck with the situation of
Hopton House and Stirling Castle. I admire the last
even more than Edinburgh Castle, when viewed from a
distance. From hence I shall go on by Inverary to
Glasgow, which I shall reach on Saturday, and then
leave my horses and proceed directly home, where I hope
to arrive on Friday or Saturday following. I have
exceeded my time, and begin to be tired of rambling, but
I shall be very sorry if I occasion my father to delay his
journey with any inconvenience to himself. Nothing but
his kind assurances to the contrary would have induced
me to extend my time as I have done. I beg my love
and duty to him, and desire to be kindly remembered toSMITH; MACKENZIE; ROBERTSON	91
Mrs. M. and Mrs. W., Martha and Maria; and remain,
dear Sarah,
‘ Your sincere friend and affectionate brother,
‘ Samuel Rogers .
‘ P.S. I am very well, and my horse seems entirely
recovered from his lameness.
‘ Miss Sarah Rogers,
‘ Newington Green, Middlesex.’
During his stay at Edinburgh, Rogers kept a short
journal of his visits. The letters he had taken from Dr.
Price, and those which his father had forwarded to him
from Dr. Kippis, opened to him the doors of Edinburgh
society—then almost in its most brilliant period. His
acquaintance with the Piozzis began at the same time.
They were staying in the same hotel, and the landlord
having told them who Rogers was, and that Dr. Robert-
son, Mr. Adam Smith, and Mr. H. Mackenzie had called
on him, Mr. and Mrs. Piozzi called and introduced them-
selves. Rogers always said that one of the most memor-
able days in his life was the Sunday in Edinburgh, on
which he had breakfast with Dr. Robertson and heard him
preach in the morning, heard Dr. Blair in the afternoon,
took coffee with the Piozzis, and then supped with Adam
Smith in the evening. The following is his journal—
‘Edinburgh, Wednesday,	15, 1789.—Called on
Dr. Robertson. In the parlour hung his portrait by Sir
Joshua Reynolds. He soon entered, with his trumpet
in his hand. His dress was remarkably neat, and his
countenance very open and pleasing. Compared him92
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
with the picture, but could not trace a very striking
resemblance. His eye has lost much of its fire, and
age has given a stoop to his figure. The conversation
began on the English Universities, and the absurdity of
proposing a test to a poor boy of seventeen. He said that
Edinburgh contained little worth notice, but that its
situation was very romantic. That Gilpin had not done
justice to the Highlands ; he saw everything with the
eye of a painter, but many a scene gives pleasure which
will not make a good picture. Richmond hill is peculiarly
striking to a Scotchman for its richness and amenity,
but is by no means a fit subject for the artist. Advised
me to make the home tour, but to reverse Mr. Gilpin’s
route, to begin with Inverary and return by Dunkeld.
Said Mr. Gray devoted a month to the lakes; that his
cicerone, Hodgkins, who was a sensible fellow, described
him as difficult to be pleased, and peevish from ill-health ;
that he could not ride on horseback, and would not go
on the water.
‘July16.—Called on Adam Smith, who was sitting
at breakfast with a plate of strawberries on the table.
Eruit, he said, was his favourite diet at this season.
Strawberries were a northern fruit. In the Orkneys and
in Sweden they were to perfection. Said that Edinburgh
deserved little notice; that the old town had given Scot-
land a bad name ; that he was anxious to move into the
new town, and had set his heart on St. George’s Square;
that Edinburgh was entirely supported by the three
Courts—the Exchequer, the Excise, and the Judiciary
Courts ; that Loch Lomond was the finest lake in Great
Britain—the islands were very beautiful, and formed aADAM SMITH ; ROBERTSON
93
very striking contrast to the shores; that the soil of
Scotland was excellent, but that its harvests, from the
severity of the climate, were too often overtaken by winter;
that the Scotch on the borders were to this day in extreme
poverty ; and that when he first left Scotland, he was.
on horseback, and wTas struck with the transition as he
approached Carlisle; that our late refusal of corn to
France must excite indignation and contempt—the
quantity required was so trifling that it would not sup-
port Edinburgh for a day. Said that in Paris as well
as in Edinburgh, the houses were piled one upon
another. Spoke contemptuously of Sir John Sinclair,
but said that he never knew a man who was in earnest
and who did not do something at last. Said he did not
know Mrs. Piozzi, and believed her to be spoiled by
keeping company with odd people.
‘ July 19.—Called at two, when all the bells of the kirk
were ringing, to take leave of Adam Smith. His chair
was waiting to take him an airing. He met me at the
door. Asked me how I liked the Club. Had before
mentioned Bogle as very clever, and expressed pleasure
at the thought of his being there. He now said: “ That
Bogle, I was sorry he talked so much, he spoiled the
evening.” He seemed to apologise for him. Invited
me to supper and to dinner next day, as he had asked
Mackenzie to meet me. Who could refuse ?
‘ Heard Dr. Bobertson in the morning. An old
church; sweet singing. His manner striking, but not
graceful; his voice not unpleasing. He spoke and looked
like a good man. The service began with a psalm, then
a prayer, then a psalm, then a commentary on the first94
EAELY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
chapter of the Second Epistle to the Thessalonians, which
lasted twenty-five minutes ; then a short prayer, then the
sermon, twenty-five minutes long. Text from Psalms,
“ Praise ye the Lord.” The second part of a discourse on
“ Thanksgiving ”—then a psalm, and then a prayer. He
seemed to direct himself particularly to us, and after
church, when we joined him, he enquired my route and
said that if I kept anything of a journal, at night I should
not find it dull. Reminded me of Lord Rosebery’s park.
“All good things attend you, sir.” We parted.
‘ Heard Hr. Blair in the afternoon but not distinctly.
A hoarse, unpleasant voice. A very neat elegant sermon
on “ Censoriousness ” in which was a fine parallel between
that vice and charity. Charity coveretli a multitude of
sins, censoriousness makes it its business to divulge them.
Afterwards bowed to the corporation in the gallery on
the right. Walked home with the Piozzis. Drank coffee
with them and heard P. perform some of his music on
the harpsichord.
‘ Repaired at nine to Mr. A. Smith’s : present, all the
company of Friday except Bogle and Macaulay. Mr.
Playfair, a mathematician, and Mr. Muir from Gottingen
were there. Talked of Junius. Adam Smith suspected
“ single speech ” Hamilton to be the author. He was
told by Gibbon that when Hamilton one day paid a
visit at the Duke of Richmond’s in Sussex, he told him
that there was a devilish keen letter from Junius in the
Public Advertiser of that day, and mentioned some of
the passages. The duke was anxious to see it, but when
the paper came there was an apology in it for its not ap-
pearing. It was a letter to the Duke of Richmond, andAT ADAM SMITH’S
95
the last that appeared. As long as they were ascribed to
Lord Lansdowne, Burke, Germaine, &c., they went on,
hut as soon as they were said to be Hamilton’s they were
dropped. Adam Smith said Turgot was an honest,
well-meaning man, but unacquainted with the world and
human nature; that it was his maxim (he mentioned it
to Mr. Hume but never to Smith) that whatever is right
may be done. He said that Nicholas Herbert, uncle to
Lord Porcliester, had read the list of the Eton boys and
repeated them four years afterwards to Lord Porches-
ter. He knew him well. He (A. Smith) had been in
Voltaire's company five or six times. Voltaire had a great
aversion to the States, and was rather attached to the
king. [Said] that his old friend the Duke of Riche-
lieu was a singular character, and that when he slipped
down at Versailles a few years before his death, said it
was the first faux pas he had ever made at Court. Hr.
Smith said he had been bastilled more than once. Dr.
Black said that when in Germany he [Duke of Richelieu]
borrowed plate of the goldsmiths and gentlemen there,
and never returned it.. . . Mrs. Piozzi said Pennant was
her cousin. She should get me to introduce her to Mrs.
Barbauld.
‘ July 20.—Heard a swindler tried in the Parliament
House. Dined at Mr. Adam Smith’s with Mr. Mackenzie,
Mr. Muir, and Mr. Me Gowan. Mackenzie answered P.’s
description—of very soft and pleasing manners. Admired
Mrs. Smith’s sonnets and Mrs. Hunter’s. Adam Smith
said Blair was too much puffed off; was surprised at
Johnson’s reputation. Mackenzie enquired after Hannah
Moore and admired her ‘ Percy; ’ spoke slightly of Merry96
EARLY LIRE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
and [of] Blair’s sermon on Sunday; said there were few
in the Highlands who pretended to second sight; that
there was a gentleman who pretended it to keep up
authority and order there; that he was detained by rain
on going to see John O’ Gaunt’s house in a cottage from
nine to one and heard some wonderful stories that would
have lasted till now; mentioned an epigram on Mr.
Smith’s sleeping at the Eoyal Society ; spoke well of
Emmeline and of the ‘ Sonnet on Shipboard ’ in it. Dr.
Hutton drank tea with us, and we afterwards went to the
Boyal Society. Only seven persons there. Dr. Anderson
read an essay on Debtors and the revision of the laws
that respect them, written by himself, very long and dull.
Mr. Commissioner Smith fell asleep. Mackenzie touched
my elbow and smiled; afterwards said he should be glad
to see me ; sent him my book. Went afterwards to the
play—‘ Hippolita ’ and the ‘ Romp.’ Sat in the box over
the stage, shut in, in the Italian style, with Mr. and Mrs.
Piozzi, Miss Tlirale, Mr. Bruce, and a very handsome
woman and her brother. Very lively and pleasant. Mrs.
Jordan directed herself to the box.
July 21.—Left Edinburgh at six. Rode through Lord
Rosebery’s park to Queensferry along the Forth, and
there breakfasted. Walked in Lord Hopton’s grounds,
and was full of admiration. Had a delightful ride along
the Forth to Falkirk ; then saw the Carron works, five
furnaces, each with four cylinders. A thousand men
employed there. Saw the forges. Proceeded to Stirling;
saw a beautiful valley on the right, bounded by the
Athol hill; saw Falkirk moor, and Torwood where
Wallace and his men concealed themselves. MuchTOUR IN SCOTLAND IN 1789
97
struck with the first view of Stirling. The grandest
and prettiest thing in the world.
‘ July 22.—Set out on a military road. The scene
gradually grew wilder till we came to Dunblane, in a
rich and pleasant valley. Saw the church, a monument
of Knox’s vengeance. It was built by one of the Davids.
Eode through a wild country to Greenloaning, a mile and
a half beyond which, on the right, is the finest Roman
station in England, according to Dr. Robertson. It is
encompassed with dykes and ramparts four deep, and
contains three or four acres of ground. Just beyond
Dunblane the field of battle in the year ’ 15 was pointed
out to me on a moor to the right. Arrived at Crieff, in
a cultivated vale. There a girl sang me an Erse song
over the washing-tub. She said it wTas made by a young
man in praise of his sweetheart, but would not explain
it. The notes wrere simple and melancholy, but without
much harmony or sweetness. It lasted ten minutes, and
was sung very fast. Left Crieff, and soon entered a deep
valley that opened and closed as I advanced and receded.
Very grand and awful. Left the Inverness Road at the
tenth milestone, and soon passed along a considerable
loch and several little villages among trees. Saw a
woman extracting a thorn from the foot of an old High-
lander ; and a boy in his plaid watching sheep. Spoke to
two who could not speak English. Observed the cottages
with the smoke in them. Ascended a steep hill and soon
came to a beautiful view. Taymouth Castle and park,
through which the Tay ran, lay at my feet, and refreshed
my aching eyes with the softest verdure. Behind rose
hanging woods to a great height, and to the left opened
H98
EARLY LIFE OE SAMUEL ROGERS
Loch Tay in the bosom of the mountains, with the
village church of Kenmore at the head of it. Dined on
a trout. The village very fond of dancing. Waited on
at dinner by a teacher of the art. Saw the castle and
park. A walk on the banks of the Tay not equal to its
fame. Had a sweet evening walk by the lake. Saw
the fallow deer in the park.
July 23.—Eode along the left bank of the lake. Saw
the Hermitage and Fall, which rather disappointed me.
The views down the lake very fine, particularly from the
fifth stone. Gilpin rode on the other side, before this road
was made. The lake had a line of surf that slanted into
the middle for a mile; imagined it to arise from a hidden
reef of rock. Several little clusters of cottages on its
banks. Saw the inside of one. It was divided into
three apartments. The door opened into the first, in
which was a little lean cow. In the middle room was the
fire, over which was a hole in the roof, and on the other
side was the bedchamber. Came to Ivillin, through
which runs a rocky torrent into the lake. On the
bank of this were several women and girls dipping
their clothes into the river, and spreading them out
on the green margin, like kings’ daughters of old. Saw
a girl stamping in a tub to wash. In the river is an
island—the laird of McNab’s burying-place. Saw a little
girl of four years old footing it in imitation of a reel.
Breakfasted at Killin. The Beel Master mentioned be-
fore comes here for two months in the year, and opens a
school for dancing. On weddings and holidays fifty are
sometimes collected to dance. Set off through rude, rocky,
and romantic country, with the river gliding on my leftSCOTLAND IN 1789
99
hand; it changes its character several times. Passed
several hills with snow in the hollows on their summits.
From the hill before the inn at Killin saw up the glen
Dr. Robertson mentioned for miles. It is romantic and
woody, with a river running up it. It extends ten miles ;
I saw about five of it. Called, on my way to Tyndrum,
at a cottage, and saw an old woman at her spinning-
wheel who answered me in Erse. Saw several parties
on their travels on foot, and a boy who kept up with us
for some time. A Highlander thinks no more of a twenty-
mile stage than of a walk for an appetite before break-
fast. Found afterwards from a traveller that the old
woman I called on was a widow, and kept house for her
son, who was a shepherd. She said she supposed I had
no Erse. Dined at Tyndrum on trout, wild venison, and
goat’s cheese. At Killin saw a hole said to be Frugal's
grave. The laird had dug it up to seek for the bones,
but in vain. It is a fine situation for the grave of a
hero—at the foot of a mountain and in full view of a
lake. At Tyndrum heard a Highlander whistle “ The
Ploughboy,” produced but lately in the comic opera of
“ The Farmer.” Have been waited upon everywhere but
hereby waiters in philibegs and maids without stockings.
‘ At eight left Tyndrum, looked into a hut and entered
the door, where there was a room full of smoke and dark-
ness. For some time could distinguish nothing, till I
heard a voice that seemed to encourage me to come
forward. Then I saw two women over a fire, and a man
in bed. The man sat up, and one of the women—old, but
of a pleasant countenance—spoke some Erse, and then,
stepping out to a wooden box on the floor, took out a100
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
bowl of ewe’s milk, and saying in broken confused sounds
‘ Here’s health to you, sir,’ tasted and gave it to me. I
tasted it, and she appeared dissatisfied, and wanted me
to drink more. She then came out and offered it to the
servant saying, “ Will you not drink some mailt ? ” Her
honest and hearty welcome affected me. I offered her a
trifle, but she drew back her hand and at first refused
to take it. Rode through a valley shut in with black
mountains, and crossed, every half a mile, above ten
torrents or channels of torrents. Passed only two
villages. Arrived at Dalmally, a neat house, but they
could give me no bread. After supper three young women
came in, and each taking the corner of a napkin, sang
their wild melody above half an hour, moving the napkin
backwards and forwards. The verses were short and
simple, and ended in a burden that was sung by two;
the song by the other. Sang a song by a dairymaid to
her herd in praise of her sweetheart; a song by a man at
sea to his sweetheart; a song by a lovelorn maid. More
melody here than at Crieff, but very melancholy and
rude. They looked and sang sometimes like the weird
sisters. In my way from Killin met a man who seemed
proud of showing off a little English. Asked me if I
came from England and wras going to Icolmkill, a place
he said many went to. I answered I was not. He said
“ Just so ! ” a very common answer, as is “ Indeed it is ! ”
£ July 24.—Had a cold and dreary ride along Loch
Awe to Inverary, the glory of Scotland. Loch Fyne,
an arm of the sea above sixty miles in length, here forms
a bay, which, from the bold projection of the mountains
that rise abruptly round, has the appearance of a lake ofSCOTLAND IN 1789
101
enchanting beauty. The flowing lines of the mountain
summits, and the frequent and natural curves formed
in the shore by their projection, have a fine effect. Add
to this the herring fishery, which impresses a busy char-
acter on the scene, with other vessels of greater size that
are continually sailing in the offing or anchored near
the bank. On a green lawn [surrounded] by hanging woods
the chieftains of the clan of the Campbells had fixed
their castle, and nearly on the site of that the Duke of
Argyll, their descendant, has erected an elegant house of
the same form, with turrets and battlements. He seems
possessed of far better taste than the rest of the Scotch
nobility, and has not attempted any little decorations,
thinking very properly that they would degrade the
dignity of the scene. In the house are pictures of the
present and the last Dukes of Hamilton, several Dukes
of Argyll, Lady Augusta, Lady Charlotte, the Marquis
and his brother, and a most bewitching portrait of the
Duchess of Argyll taken when she was Duchess of
Hamilton.
‘ Left Inverary with a sigh, the sun shining mildly
on as sweet a scene as it almost ever visited. Rode
round the bay, commanding beautiful views, particularly
up the loch, towards the sea, a fine vista of mountains,
up which a. sail was coming. Drank tea at Cairndow,
and proceeded through Kinglas vale, smooth to the sum-
mits, sprinkled with sheep, but dark from the clouds
that formed above it. A beautiful retrospect towards
Inverary, where the sun seemed smiling sweetly; before
me clouds and darkness and black mountains. Took
many a parting look.102
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
‘ Entered Glen Croe: rude and romantic even beyond
the pass through which I entered the Highlands.
Enormous fragments lay on each side. Saw on the top
between the two vales “ Rest and be thankful,” which
Johnson and Gilpin describe. Gilpin is wrong in his
account of the vales—Kinglas is smooth and Glen Croe
rough. Arrived at New Arrochar, a good inn, on the
banks of Loch Long, where the herring-boats were busy.
A sweet perspective down the loch. Saw a cormorant
flying over it.
‘	July 2 5.—Had a very fine ride along Loch Lomond
to Luss, the sun shining and the air calm. The reflec-
tion in the water not so vivid as in Cumberland. Walked
in the churchyard at Luss. The minister’s house a neat
white house in a quiet secluded situation. His name was
James Stewart, a very intelligent man, who furnished
Pennant with natural history and Erse names of birds,
&c. He made the tour of the northern lakes with Lord
Mountmorres last summer. Was rowed by a boy and
girl to Inchtavannach, and from the summit had a fine
geographical view of the southern end of the lake, full
of islands. Saw that where the osprey eagle builds,
very small and tufted with trees. Sir James Colqulioun
won’t suffer the nest to be ever molested.
‘ Returned through a heavy rain. Dined and rode
along the lake till I came to an obelisk with a Latin in-
scription to the memory of Dr. Smollett. On the left, a
little removed from the road, is a single stone house in
which he was born. Rode on to Dumbarton, where I saw
the castle, and arrived at Glasgow in the evening. The
steps in Dumbarton Castle are only 183, and not soTHE PIOZZIS
103
many as Gilpin states them. J. Stewart at Luss preaches
in English in the morning and in Erse in the afternoon.
He translated the New Testament into Erse, and is now
engaged on the Old. He has finished the Books of
Moses. Saw only one eagle on Loch Lomond. The
gardener at Inverary said he had seen twelve or fourteen
sail over the week before in company. Saw the garden
there, but found it to be only a kitchen garden. In it
was a small greenhouse, erected for Lady Augusta, who
is particularly fond of plants. The Duke is quite recon-
ciled to the match. Inverary, Fort William, and Port
Glasgow are the three rainiest places in Scotland.
‘	July26.—Called in the morning on Mrs. Piozzi at
the “ Saracen’s Head.” She dined with Dr. Blair, who
said that the Duke of Argyll, when in Scotland, was
always pleased to hear that it rained in the south, and
when somebody called the rain at Inverary a shower,
another less polite said, “ Then it is an everlasting
shower.” Walked round the town with Piozzi, stepped
into the “Hart Inn ” and saw some rooms. Afterwards
dined with them, and then walked in the public walks.
Mrs. Piozzi expressed great anxiety to see the reviews.
Said she should look carefully into them now. Said
Cadell had no reason to complain of his bargains with
her, for he had always been sharp enough. Spoke
rather slightly of Parsons, but highly of Merry and
Greathed. Found Miss Cecilia Thrale was not more
than twelve, appeared fifteen. Spoke of Carpenter
coming 1,100 miles in nine days ; that he slept an hour
at Paris, another at Lyons, another at Florence; re-
gretted she did not mention it in her books.104
EAELY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
‘ July 27.—Called, and walked to the college and the
old church with them; the first very handsome, the last
bad. She talked much of Dr. Johnson. At three set
off in the mail to Moffat, and arrived there through
a wild country at half-past eleven. Saw Northern
Lights. Here are wells similar to but not so strong as
Harrogate.
‘July 28.—Proceeded in a post-chaise with an English
gentleman to Dumfries, and there met my horses. The
country but little varied. Saw Linclouden College at a
distance. Dined and proceeded in a return chaise to
Annan along the frith, with distant views of Skiddaw,
and then to Gretna Green, through Solway Moss. This
is a pretty village in grove of trees. Here are two inns.
Slept at the wrong one. The right house is a small
house with some arms for the sign, and stands in Spring-
field, not Gretna Green. Saw the parson at the door—
a tall, sottish, good-looking fellow. His name is Parsley,
or Parsfield, and he is a farmer. The man who used to
marry them filled peat and dung carts, his name was
James Long and his father’s Peter. He signed his
name “ James Long, Peter’s son.” Lord Westmoreland
was married at a small ale-house by the river between
Gretna and Annan, where a new bridge is now build-
ing. They slept there afterwards. Mr. Henderson, a
good-natured old man, Lord Stormont’s factor, left his
bed for them. Everybody goes back to Carlisle imme-
diately after the ceremony. An officer was obliged to
pawn his watch there in the last spring, not having
30L, the money exacted for it. The innkeeper from
Carlisle went with him to get it cheaply done, but heWESTMOKELAND IN 1789
105
shared with the parson. It was not the landlord of the
“ Bush.”
‘ July 29.—Crossed the sands in a boat, and my horse
was led over. Breakfasted again at Carlisle, and was
once more welcomed there with rain. Had a pleasant
ride from thence to Penrith. Piozzi said that Miss C.
Thrale was a good-tempered girl and companion to her
mother, “ for the other daughters, you know---” Here
he stopped and shrugged his shoulders. She calls him
papa. Mrs. Piozzi talked of marriage, and said that it
was necessary to wait some time in a parish, then turning
to Piozzi said, “ You know, my dear, we waited twenty-six
days in Bath.” Miss Thrale looks unhappy, but brightens
up sometimes. Mrs. Piozzi calls Piozzi her master.
Sadly out of sorts with the Scotch for sending her to
Carron ; said one might as well go to one’s own brewery
and then to see a steam-engine. Said, “ You know why
the Scotch wish to send me to the Highlands ? ” Piozzi
hinted it afterwards and said they wanted her to con-
tradict Dr. Johnson. Had a most delicious ride to
Appleby, a richly wooded valle}" running on each side,
bounded by mountains. Saw Countess Pillar, a small
octagon with her arms coloured in front, a sundial on
each side, and the inscription behind. The stone table
is within a foot from the ground, and about three yards
from the pillar. It stands on a little hill just beyond
Brougham Castle, about two miles from Penrith and
opposite a milestone. Appleby is a small mean town
in a delightful valley, and consists chiefly of one street
running up the hill to the castle, the tower of which
forms a fine termination. In the castle hall are three106
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
pictures of the countess—when a child; when married,
with her husband, Lord Dorset, beside her; and when
married to Pembroke, a single whole length. In a small
room adjoining are four more pictures of her—when a
child, when a young woman, in her first widowhood, and
in her second. From all these she appears very hand-
some. In the picture of Lord Dorset and herself are
two children, one of whom alone survived her, and upon
it is written a very minute history of each. In a room
on the other side of the hall a small door is opened, and
in a closet appears the complete armour of her father,
Lord Clifford, richly gilt, his helmet, cuirass, and saddle,
with the stirrups lying at his foot. A curious lock on
his breast seems to keep it together. His gauntlets are
on. In the churchyard is a pretty epitaph on an officer’s
wife, who accompanied her husband through most parts
of America:—“ Who knew her living must lament her
dead.” Wandered till dusk.
‘ July 30.—Had a long, but not very unpleasant ride
over the mountains of Brough and Stainmore, having
several distant views. Breakfasted at Bowes, and after-
wards came to the spot whence James I. took his first
view of England; then entered Leeming Lane, which
runs in a direct line for some miles between shady
hedge-rows, with rich inclosures on each side, till we
came to a large heath whence we had a beautiful view of
Bichmond and its environs on the right and the county
of Durham on the left. Dined at Catterick Bridge, and
proceeded in the mail through a flat but rich country to
Boroughbridge.
‘ July 31.—Had a pleasant ride in a return chaise forA YORKSHIRE RIDE
107
nine miles by Allerton, just purchased by Col. Thornton
of the Duke of York. The house is very large, but not
elegant. We had one view of it. Eode two miles on
the left to the village of Cowthorp. The celebrated oak
stands in a farmyard near the church. One-half of it
is bare of vegetation and shoots up its naked branches
in a very fantastic manner, the other half is not so high
and is full of leaves. The cavity within is very spacious
and lofty, about fifteen yards in circumference. In the
oak-tree stands an immense block, detached from the
tree, once the heart of it. Took away a relic. Saw
there a gentleman from Harrogate, in the army, who
measured it. Eode through Wetherby, a small town,
and was confined for shelter under a tree for four hours
with two sawyers, young men. Afterwards came on in a
return chaise to Ferrybridge over a country I had seen
between York and Leeds.
‘ August i.—Eode through a flat but rich country to
Doncaster. The church is of great antiquity, and its
noble tower finely terminates almost every avenue to the
town. Enquired here of Captain Stoven my companion
in the mail, and found that his father is just dead. Eode
through a woody and pleasant tract of ground to Sand-
beck Park (Earl of Scarborough’s) through which I
passed, having a full view of the house, an elegant
stone structure, and proceeded to Eoche Abbey, the last
beautiful scene I shall visit. It stands in the centre of
three valleys. One is wide, floated with a lake and
finally terminated by Laughton spire. The others are
close and woody, and meet each other in the same direc-
tion, being enlivened by a small river that forms frequent108
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
cascades. One of these last is finely hung round with
high red rocks that are very beautiful, and are fringed
with wood. But a small part of the abbey remains, and
it is perfectly regular, being the east end. The parts
are two and are detached, but are finely connected with
trees. Behind is a building that was probably the
abbot’s apartment. This ruin afforded much employ-
ment to my glass. I spent an hour and a half there
and left it with great regret. Had a charming ride
through many rural scenes to Worksop. The moon
shone and amused me with its shiftings.
‘ August 2.—Bode to Worksop Manor and Welbeck
Park (Dukes of Norfolk and Portland)—neither of them
very beautiful, the first the best. Breakfasted at Mans-
field, a small, well-built town, and heard Mr. Catloe at
Meeting, an ingenious young man and a pleasant
speaker. The Unwins were there, and it was a funeral
sermon for Mrs. Heywood of Nottingham, their relation.
The road to Nottingham lies through Nottingham Forest,
in a deep sand, with but few trees. Here and there we
have a distant catch of the country on each side, the
ground at Bed Hill making rather a pleasant dip
into the village of that name, and Nottingham in its
first appearance is grand. The moon was up. A hot
day.
‘ August 3.—Had a pleasant view from the castle, and
set off from thence in the Leeds mail to Loughborough,
Leicester, Northampton, and Newport Pagnel—the
greater part of the way in the guard’s seat. From
thence proceeded on the 4th in post-chaises to town
with a Manchester gentleman.’ROBERT BURNS
109
This Scottish journey, to which Rogers looked back
with interest all his life, left one source of regret behind
it. It enabled him to be introduced to some of the most
eminent persons in the Scottish capital; but he missed
the most interesting of all in failing to visit Burns. The
fame of the great peasant poet of Scotland had not then
fully reached the ears of literary men in the south,
though Burns himself had in August 1787 addressed to
Dr. Moore that striking biographical letter which is still
the best extant account of his early days. Burns had
visited Edinburgh in the autumn of 1786, where his
coming had been prepared for by Henry Mackenzie in a
paper in The Lounger—a shortlived literary journal of
which Mackenzie was the editor. Burns had again
visited the capital in the winter of 1787-8, when he had
published the first Edinburgh edition of his poems. He
was more fortunate than some other eminent writers,
for he had received from his bookseller, Creech, nearly
five hundred pounds, and had taken a farm at Ellisland,
on the banks of the Nith, six miles above Dumfries, and
settled down to the business of farming. Here Rogers
might have found him in July 1789—£ at times saun-
tering by the delightful wanderings of the Nith,’ as he
says in a letter to Mr. M‘Auley, ‘ praying for seasonable
weather or holding an intrigue with the Muses—the only
gipsies with whom I have now any intercourse.’ It was
a bright interval in the poet’s life, and Rogers might
have preserved for us a picture of him in his fields, or at
home with his ‘ wife and twa wee laddies,’ who, as he
sang, ‘maun hae brose and brats 0’ duddies,’ and who
had made him resolve that110
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
To make a happy fireside clime
To weans and wife,
That’s the true pathos and sublime
Of human life.
Burns, as we know from one of his letters to Mrs. Dunlop,
had just been ‘ very busy with “Zeluco,”’ the ‘most
sterling performance,’ as he calls it, of his friend and
Bogers’s friend, Dr. Moore. He tells Mrs. Dunlop that he
had been revolving in his mind some criticisms on novel -
writing, which he found to be a depth beyond his research,
and a year later he writes to Dr. Moore : ‘ I have gravely
planned a comparative view of you, Fielding, Richardson,
and Smollett, in your different qualities and merits as
novel-writers.’ This comparative view is only briefly
hinted in a later letter to the author of “ Zeluco,” but his
admiration for Moore’s writings suggests a topic on which
Rogers and he might have talked; and a most interest-
ing conversation might have been added to the pleasant
record of Rogers’s Scottish visit. The opportunity thus
lost never came again. Rogers did not revisit Scotland
till 1803, when Burns had been dead seven years.
This first journey to Scotland was well-timed in other
respects. Sixty years later, when the economical doc-
trines of Adam Smith had been established in Free Trade
legislation, it was a satisfaction to Rogers that he had
seen the author of ‘ The Wealth of Nations.’ Mr. Dyce1
records a story of him which is not in Rogers’s Diary.
‘ Once in the course of conversation I happened,’ said
Rogers, ‘ to remark of some writer that he was rather
superficial, a Voltaire.’ ‘ Sir,’ cried Adam Smith, striking
1 Table Talk, p. 44.‘THE MAN OF FEELING’
111
the table with his hand, * there has been but one Voltaire.’
Adam Smith died on the 17th of July, 1790, not quite a
year after Eogers’s interviews with him. Robertson lived
three years longer. When Rogers breakfasted with him,
and afterwards heard him preach, his ‘ History of Scot-
land ’ had been published thirty years, and he had been
for as long a period one of the chief figures in the
Scottish capital. Rogers always remembered the kind-
ness with which the great historian had welcomed him,
and told how he had taken down a map of Scotland, spread
it on the floor, and, kneeling down upon it had traced the
route to be followed in the Highland tour on which Rogers
was setting out. Robertson died in 1793. Henry Mac-
kenzie, with whom a long friendship was begun on this
meeting in Edinburgh, was then in middle age. He was
born in Edinburgh, in August, 1745, on the very day on
which Prince Charles Edward landed in Scotland. He had
been in London in 1765, to study the modes of English Ex-
chequer practice, as Sir Walter Scott tells us in his pleasant
account of Mackenzie, in the * Lives of the Novelists.’ He
had sketched the outlines of his principal work, the ‘ Man
of Feeling,’ during his residence in London, but had not
finished and published it till 1771. It was anonymous,
but it at once became the most popular novel of its time.
Like George Eliot’s ‘Adam Bede,’ it was the subject of
a false claim. A man named Eccles transcribed the
whole, made corrections, blottings, and interlineations
in the manuscript thus produced, and pertinaciously
declared himself to be the author of the book. Mackenzie
was thus compelled to own and claim his offspring. His
‘ Man of the World ’ is regarded by Scott as a second112
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
part of ‘ The Man of Feeling,’ while ‘ Julia cle Roubigne ’
was written, Scott says, in some degree as a counterpart
to the earlier work. Rogers had read and admired this
pathetic story, and went to Edinburgh full of desire to
see its author, who was then one of the most distin-
guished persons in the literary society of the Scottish
capital. Rogers’s feeling with respect to Mackenzie at
this time was that with which a young writer regards an
author of established fame. He first saw him at Adam
Smith’s dinner-table, and remarks in his diary on his
soft and pleasing manners. Mackenzie was an admirable
talker. Just thirty years after Rogers had first met him
Mr. Ticknor, the author of the ‘ History of Spanish
Literature,’ records in his diary that he had breakfasted
one morning with Mackenzie at Lady Cumming’s. ‘ He
is now old,’ says Ticknor, ‘ but a thin, active, lively little
gentleman, talking fast and well upon all common sub-
jects, and without the smallest indication of the “ Man
of Feeling ” about him.’ Rogers and he corresponded occa-
sionally for five-and-forty years, and Mackenzie more
than once visited Rogers in London. Their sympathy
with each other was purely literary, for Mackenzie wrote
against the French Revolution in the days when all
liberal spirits in England were still hoping everything
from it. He lived on through all the changes it brought,
and saw the Monarchy of July, and the agitation for
English Reform before he died. In a letter announcing
his death, in January 1831, when he had got half-way
through his eighty-sixth year, his son, Mr. J. H. Mac-
kenzie expressed gratitude to Rogers, ‘ for your kind
friendship to my father, which added so sensibly to theSIR J. REYNOLDS AND BURKE
113
enjoyment of his declining years.’ Mr. Joshua Henry
Mackenzie, afterwards became a judge of the Edinburgh
Court of Session, and his daughter, Miss Mackenzie of
Moray Place, Edinburgh, is now the sole descendant of
of ‘ The Man of Feeling.’
After his memorable stay in the Scottish capital
Rogers was more than ever set on the attainment of
literary distinction. He came back home to work hard
at the poem by which he was to gain the fame he felt to
be his right. He was always accumulating material for
it, putting down happy thoughts and fortunate expres-
sions, and polishing a line or a couplet into the perfect
rhythm which distinguishes the poem. It was the chief
subject in his thoughts, yet it is never mentioned in his
letters or his diary. Perhaps it was because of this pre-
occupation with the work of this period of his life that
there is no record of 1790, except one which he mentions
in his ‘ Recollections.’ It is a personal reminiscence
of Burke. On the 10th December, 1790, Sir Joshua
Reynolds delivered his fifteenth and last discourse at
the Royal Academy. There was a crowded audience,
and the front seats were reserved for persons of distinc-
tion, among whom was Burke. Younger and less known
men, of whom Rogers was then one, were thus kept in
the back of the room. Suddenly a beam under the floor
gave way with a crash, and the people present rushed to
the door. As there was no sign of further disaster the
alarm was supposed to be a false one, and the audience
struggled back to their places. Some of the younger got
to the front, and Rogers was among them. Sir Joshua
concluded his lecture with a striking passage : ‘ I feel a
1114
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
self-congratulation in knowing myself capable of such
great sensations as he intended to excite. I reflect, not
without vanity, that these discourses bear testimony of my
admiration of that truly divine man, and I should desire
that the last words I should pronounce in this Academy
and from this place should be the name of Michael
Angelo.’ He came down from the desk to mingle with
the audience and Burke went up to him, and taking him
by the hand repeated Milton’s lines:—
The Angel ended, and in Adam’s ear
So charming left liis voice that he awhile
Thought him still speaking, still stood fix’d to hear.
* I was there,’ writes Bogers, ‘ and heard it.’115
CHAPTER Y.
English feeling about France in 1789 and 1790—Wordsworth, Coleridge ,
Adams—Diary in Revolutionary Paris—Visits to Lafayette, de Chatelet,
de Liancourt, the Due de Rochefoucauld, etc.—National Assembly,
Jacobin Club—The Theatres—The King and Queen—The Populace
—Journey homewards through Belgium and Flanders—Dr. John
Moore, father of Sir John and Sir Graham Moore—
While Rogers was enjoying the literary and social inter-
course to which his friends had introduced him in the
Scottish capital, events which greatly influenced the life
of every prominent man in Europe were taking place in
Paris. The destruction of the Bastille has made the
14th of July, 1789, a dividing line in history. It was
the first great victory of the populace. The Bastille was
at once the instrument and the symbol of despotism, and
its fall announced to the world the overthrow of the
ancient authority of a family and of a caste. The people
of England rejoiced in the victory almost as much as the
people of France. It was regarded by English Liberals
as the formal entry of France on the career of constitu-
tional government; as the proclamation of a new era, in
which the old Whig toast of 4 Civil and religious liberty
all the world over ’ should come to complete realisation.
It is difficult in these days to enter very fully into the
feeling of that already distant time. It is only by recol-
lecting how completely the near future is veiled from us—
i 2116
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
how impossible it was in 1790 and 1791 to foresee the
deeds of 1793 and 1794—that we can understand the
enthusiasm which the first movements of the Bevolution
aroused in men of liberal thought and training in
England and the United States. They beheld in 1789
and 1790 nothing but the rosy dawn ; they could not
foresee the storms which were so soon to obscure it and
blot the sky. Poets and philosophers, politicians and
divines, saw in the earliest movements of the Bevolution
the power and the potency of all necessary ameliorations
in the lot of the great masses of mankind, and the pledge
of the quick coming of the better time in which Christen-
dom, in spite of all disappointments, has passionately
believed and still passionately believes. Southey, Cole-
ridge and Wordsworth, Price, Priestley and Mackintosh,
Charles Fox, Charles Grey, Whitbread, Francis, Erskine,
Sheridan, Windham and Stanhope, and all the men who,
like them, had been labouring in the popular cause, felt
upon their faces the light and warmth of a new morning
for the world. Wordsworth, looking back when he wrote
‘ The Prelude,’ said of those days of illusive, yet not
wholly illusive, hope—
Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,
But to be young was very heaven.
Coleridge, writing his ‘ Ode to France ' in 1797, just after
the moment of worst disenchantment, sang of the time
When France in wrath her giant limbs upreared,
And, with an oath that smote air, earth, and sea,
Stamped her strong foot and said she would be free.
Even in those dajrs Coleridge was not ashamed toANTICIPATIONS OF THE REVOLUTION
117
boast of ‘ the lofty gratulation ’ with which he coulcl sing
‘ unawed among a slavish band ’ and ‘ bless the pseans
of delivered France.’ All these men saw in the French
Bevolution in 1790 what Milton had seen in the English
Bevolution a hundred and thirty years before—‘ a noble
and puissant nation rousing herself like a strong man
after sleep.’ Wordsworth exactly describes the almost
universal feeling at the time of his own first visit to
France, in three lines of ‘ The Prelude ’:
Europe at that time was filled with joy,
France standing on the top of golden hours,
And human nature seeming born again.
There were, however, other voices even then. In the
autumn of 1789, John Adams, who had been the first
Minister of the United States at the English Court, and
who was afterwards the second President of the American
Bepublic, expressed the opinion—I may almost say,
uttered the striking prophecy—in a letter to Dr. Price,
that nothing good could be expected of a nation of
atheists, and that the probable result of the Bevolution
would be the destruction of a million of human lives. A
great genius of our own land—a man who united in his
own person the qualities of the statesman, the philo-
sopher, the orator, and the prophet—was then writing the
‘ Beflections on the French Bevolution ’ which were pub-
lished in the following year. Burke, however, stood
almost alone ; and when in April 1791 Mackintosh, then
a young and unknown man of six-and-twenty, issued his
brilliant ‘ Yindicise Gallic* ’ it was received with almost
universal gratitude and admiration by the Whigs and the
•educated middle classes, as Paine’s ‘ Bights of Man ’ was118
EAELY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
welcomed by less cultivated readers. Burke’s eloquent
lamentations over the disappearance of the age of chiv-
alry embodied the feeling with which the Conservative
section of the privileged classes regarded the Revolu-
tion. They saw in the scattering of a frightened noblesse,
and the limitation of the arbitrary powers of the monarch,
not the enfranchisement of a people whom king and
aristocracy had utterly impoverished and grossly op-
pressed, but the overthrow of institutions based on
privilege, which age had made venerable and picturesque.
Paine, in the most eloquent passage in his ‘ Plights of
Man,’ said of Burke’s pathetic description of the suffer-
ings of Marie Antoinette that Burke pitied the plumage
but forgot the dying bird. He and his friends mourned
over the troubles of the ornamental classes, but overlooked
the long patience of the people on whom they preyed.
The great bulk of the English Dissenters, and of the
Whig aristocracy whose lead they gratefully acknow-
ledged, were too much occupied with the progressive
establishment of Liberal institutions on the other side
of the Channel to think much of the cost at which the
enfranchisement was being purchased. On the 4th of
November, 1789, the anniversary dinner of the ‘ Society
for Commemorating the English Revolution’ was held at
the London Tavern, with Lord Stanhope in the chair.
Many of Rogers’s friends were there, and Dr. Price—who,
earlier in the day, had preached to the members of the
Society, in the meeting-house in the Old Jewry, his great
discourse ‘ On the Love of Our Country ’—moved a con-
gratulatory address to the National Assembly of France.
This address congratulated the Assembly, so the resolu-ENGLISH FEELING TOWARDS FRANCE
119
tion ran, ‘ on the revolution in that country, ancl on the
prospect it gives to the two first kingdoms in the world
of a common participation in the blessings of civil and
religious liberty.’ The Liberal triumph in France was
to lead to a similar Liberal triumph in England, and the
Whigs—who wrere the Radicals of the time—hoped to see,
in the words of Dr. Price’s address, ‘ a general reformation
in the governments of Europe, and to make the world
free and happy.’ On the 14th of July, 1790, the first
anniversary of the taking of the Bastille, there was a
dinner at the Crown and Anchor, at which there is reason
to believe that Rogers was present. Dr. Price was one of
the stewards of the dinner, and made the speech which,
together with his sermon in the Old Jew7ry on the 4th of
November, became the subject of some of Burke’s ‘ Reflec-
tions.' This speech, read in the light of modern political
ideas, suggests the wonder that any human being could
have felt anything but the fullest and completest sym-
pathy with its patriotic sentiment and peaceful tone, or
anything but appreciation for the severe moderation of its
language. It suggested an alliance between the two first
kingdoms of the world, for promoting peace on earth and
goodwill to men. It was eminently worthy to be, as it was,
the last public testimony on behalf of civil and religious
liberty borne by one of the gentlest and purest spirits the
eighteenth century produced. Dr. Price died before the
second anniversary came round and brought with it the
brutal attack of the Birmingham mob on Dr. Priestley’s
house and chapel, and before the angry clouds had risen
which too soon turned the golden hours to weeping.
His name, however, was known and honoured in France,120
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
and he had an extensive correspondence with some of
the best men of the early days of the Revolution. Dr.
Price never visited France himself, but his name was a
passport to the best society of revolutionary Paris, and
to be known as his friend was to be sure of a welcome in
circles where in 1790 and 1791 the chiefs of the move-
ment were to be met.
As Dr. Price’s friend, and with letters from him and
many other well-known Whigs and sympathisers with the
Revolution, Rogers went over to Paris in the beginning
of 1791 to see the chief scenes and persons in the revo-
lutionary drama. It had not yet become a tragedy; it
was not yet even apparently tending to tragic results.
The moment was one at which the hope and antici-
pation raised in the previous summer had not yet
died away. The king and the National Assembly had
come to an understanding. He had accepted the new
constitution, and though he was almost a prisoner or a
hostage in the Tuileries, there were still reasons for
hoping that the Revolution might complete its course
within the limits of constitutional forms. There were,
indeed, signs of a different issue, but they were not dis-
cernible from afar. The king was already ceasing to
desire final reconciliation with the Revolution and its
leaders. Mirabeau, elected President of the Assembly
while Rogers was in Paris, was within three months of
the close of his career; and Lafayette was in retire-
ment. It was most significant that when, on the 28th of
January, Rogers and Boddington expressed to Lafayette
their pleasure at finding everything so quiet, Lafayette
made no reply, and that on the same evening Mr. Iveay,JOURNEY TO PARIS
121
their English friend in Paris, told them that the people
were barbarous, and described how a few days before,
when a mob was hurrying away a man they suspected
to be a spy, a porkman rushed from his shop and ran
a knife into his head. There was the germ of all the
coming excesses in this event. But it w&s not likely
that foreigners would discern the signs that were hidden
from Frenchmen themselves. More than two months
after Rogers’s return from Paris, Fox spoke of the new
constitution as the most glorious fabric ever raised by
human ingenuity since the creation of man. So it seemed,
regarded from afar. Like Mulciber's * fabric huge ’ of
Pandemonium in ‘ Paradise Lost,’ it
Rose like an exhalation with the sound
Of dulcet symphonies and voices sweet:
and just at this moment
The ascending pile
Stood fixed her stately height.
But less than six months after Piogers saw Lafayette,
and within ten weeks of the time at which Fox spoke,
the kmg fled from Paris, and the prospect of transforming
France by peaceful change into a constitutional king-
dom passed away like the baseless fabric of a vision.
Rogers went to Paris, full of the feeling with which
all English Liberals regarded the Revolution, in -January
1791. He tells us, in the first page of his diary, that he
regarded Calais as the shore which might ‘ soon, even to
Englishmen, prove a welcome asylum.’ He had as his
companion Samuel Boddington, afterwards the partner122
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
in business of Richard Sharp.1 The diary is a rough
one. It was written on the evenings of his journey, and
while each day’s experiences and events were fresh in
his recollection; and he probably intended to rewrite
it afterwards. But it remains as it was written, and
needs no other introduction than the reminder to the
reader that Rogers was even more interested in the lite-
rary and social aspects of France than in its political state.
January 18, 1791.—The hop-grounds and cherry-
orchards of Kent were still pleasing amidst the dreariness
of winter, and we had several fine catches of the Thames
and its shipping. At Canterbury we snatched a passing
view of the cathedral, and as we approached Dover the
castle rose in all its majesty, and wore a chaste grey
tint from the reflection of a storm that brooded over it.
20 th.—The wind being contrary we made a pilgrimage
to the top of Shakespeare’s cliff, which towers to a stu-
pendous height from the edge of the ocean, and com-
mands the town of Dover, shut in by mountains and
only open to the sea. The French coast was not visible,
but the sea was fresh and beautiful and spotted with
white sails, and the air was so mild and elastic that it
was a luxury to breathe it. In the evening walked on
the pier. The brightness of the moonshine on the cliffs
and the water, the silver line of the horizon, and the old
sailors, standing in groups on the beach, and conversing
1 The name of the firm was Boddington, Sharp, and Phillips. Samuel
Boddington’s only child, Grace Boddington, married Sir Henry Webster,
then a colonel in the army. Sir Henry Webster was the second son of
Lady Holland and of her first husband, Sir Godfrey Webster, from whom
she was divorced by Act of Parliament.FRANCE IN 1791
123
in tlieir long bine cloaks on the uncertainty of the weather,
formed an amusing scene.
2 ist.— Set sail for Calais with a clear sky and calm
sunshine, and in two hours and forty minutes gained
that shore which may soon, even to Englishmen, prove
a welcome asylum. As we landed, the national troops
were parading in their white uniform, and several
comine	il feint,of both sexes were walking on the pier, with
large fox muffs. We were conducted across a handsome
square, built of white brick, and ornamented with some
good public buildings, the great church, the Hotel de Yille,
&c., to the Silver Lion, where we dined on
and	perdrix,and received a visit from Father Martin, a
Capuchin friar, who introduced himself most cautiously
to solicit alms for his convent. Proceeded afterwards to
Boulogne, along a paved road which ran in a direct line
through a country well cultivated and uneven, and en-
livened with many villages scattered over it, but in some
parts marshy and destitute of trees. Our chaise was
drawn by three horses abreast, and the driver, a brisk
pleasant fellow, wore a large cocked hat and jack-boots,
with deep ruffles, gilt earrings and an enormous queue.
We afterwards changed horses by the light of a black-
smith’s shop, and in our own way met the Calais stage,
a huge monster, not much less than Noah’s Ark. It was
heavily laden with trunks and passengers, and, though
drawn by seven horses, rumbled along at the rate of two
miles an hour. Entered Boulogne by moonlight through
a winding avenue of trees, and after having ordered our
petit	souperat La Vignette, we repaired to the theatre,
a small oblong building with a circular termination, the124
EAELY LIFE OF SAMUEL BOGEES
shape of every French theatre. It was very gaily painted,
hut miserably lighted, and it smelt of pomatum like a
barber’s shop. In the boxes were a few abbes and officers
who left their seats between the acts and conversed
familiarly with the actors on the stage behind the curtain.
The comedy was admirably acted, and was often inter-
rupted by the most rapturous bursts of applause. The
entertainment began and concluded with a pas cle seul.
January 22.—The market-place at Montreuil was
crowded as we passed through it. It was a busy scene,
and exactly resembled a fair in a Flemish picture. The
women wore a close cap, with no hat; and their muffs
and powdered hair had a singular effect among baskets
of eggs and stalls of gingerbread. The weather was now
so fine—so superb, to speak the language of the country
—that we could here contain ourselves no longer, and,
leaving the chaise to follow us to the next poste we
mounted our bidets and cantered away in jack-boots, as
happy and as perpendicular as La Fleur himself. Our
outset was, however, such as to have discouraged less
enterprising spirits, for, when we had accoutred ourselves
for the ride, we could neither vault into the saddle nor
even lift our feet into the stirrup, but tottered along
with the hostler’s assistance amidst the titterings of the
landlady and her maids in the inn-yard. When we had
passed through Abbeville—a large town in an extensive
valley, and brimful of churches and convents, priests and
beggars—we gradually ascended the heights of Picardy,
whence we saw the Somme winding through green mea-
dows on the left. The moon was rising when we entered
Amiens through a deep gateway; the convent bells wereFRANCE IN 1791
125
tinkling, and tlie streets were lighted by lantliorns sus-
pended in the middle by a rope. Alighted at the Silver
Lion, and were charmed by the naivete and simplicity of
the innkeeper’s daughter, Flora, a sweet little girl about
ten years old. £ Aimez-vous les Anglais?’ said I. ‘J’aime
tout le monde ! ’	£ Avez-vous des sceurs ? ’	‘ Oui, mais
elles ont des maris.’ £ Et vous serez mariee de bonne
heure ? ’	£ Oh qu’oui, Monsieur.’
January 23.—When I descended into the parlour to
breakfast I was surprised to find there a little fellow
about fourteen years old, in a very fine coat, with
powdered hair and long queue. He advanced towards
me with his hands in an immense muff and with a pro-
fusion of bows and fine compliments. He proved to be
Flora’s brother, and had been deputed by his mother to
conduct us over the town. Under his guidance, there-
fore, we sallied forth to the Cathedral, a most magnifi-
cent piece of Gothic. The clergy had not yet taken the
national oath, the gates that led to the high altar were
sealed, and Mass was performed in the aisle. £ Ou sont
les moines ? ’ said I, as we walked through the streets.
£ Us sont dans leur couvent a pleurer, monsieur.’ The
ramparts form an amusing promenade round the town.
The Somme meanders on one side with convents and
manufactories on its banks; and on the other rise the
cathedral with its taper spire, of rich filagree work, and
a multitude of religious houses and hotels of the noblesse
—among these are small flower-gardens, each intersected
with espaliers and gravel walks, and furnished with a
marble fountain and an alcove of green trellis-work. As
we left Amiens we saw a fiddler perched up in the corner126
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
of a street playing and singing, while he exhibited to a
crowded audience a scroll of pictures daubed in different
compartments. Proceeded through pleasant fields and
woods till the country made a grand fall, and presented
in front a very extensive plain, fading away into the
blue and purple tints of distance. At Breteuil we
passed a convent of Benedictines, with a very long and
elegant white front. It was a modern structure with
sash windows, the antique tower of its chapel rose beside
it, and it formed a very striking object for many miles.
At the door of an auberge on a little hill, we were soon
afterwards stopped by the entreaties of the aubergiste,
who asked permission for an elderly well-dressed man to
ride a few leagues behind the chaise. ‘ C’est mon ami,
c’est un officier, Messieurs.’ These arguments would
have been irresistible, if any had been necessary, and
he seated himself behind. We caught a glimpse of the
magnificent chateau of the Due de Fitz.James, with a
lawn opening in front, and woods intersected with
avenues rising behind it.
Neither the rattling of the carriage-wheels on the
pavi, nor the flats and sharps of the post-boy's whip
could drown the brisk notes of a fiddle as we entered the
village of Clermont. It was a dance of the peasants,
and we immediately went to it, and were shown into a
large room, with a floor of red tile and a raftered roof.
There were three sets of cotillons, here called contre-
danse, and never had we any idea of dancing before—
such activity, so much soul in all their movements. We
were immediately pressed to dance. ‘ Ne voulez-vous pas
danser, Messieurs ? ’ resounded from all sides. It was anFRANCE IN 1791
127
invitation not to be resisted; and we danced ‘ Les Plaisirs
des Loix ’ to the tune of ‘ Qa ira.’ The very fiUe
who had conducted us from the inn was already engaged
in another set. Every man paid three Hards for two
dances, and saluted his partner when they were finished.
On the hill was a dance of the bourgeois,
but we chose the dance of the peasants. The band con-
sisted of two violins ; and some stools elevated on a table
against the wall formed the orchestra. Over the door
w7as this inscription, ‘ Honore, Perruquier, tient salle de
danse a la nation.’ When I saw the innocent gaiety of
the villagers of Clermont my heart bled to think of the
oppressions which so amiable and generous a people had
so long endured. Proceeded through an uneven country,
with woods and vineyards on either hand, till we entered
a long avenue that led to Chantilly, the seat of the
Prince of Conde. Saw the house, the gardens, the
stables, &c., altogether a most superb monument of bad
taste. The gate of the stables is, however, a striking
exception. The armour of Henri IY. and of the great
Conde are here preserved with veneration. Continued
through the woods of Chantilly, and passed through
several villages. The country soon made another fall—
and of equal grandeur with the former. As we changed
horses at St. Denis, one of them was restive and broke the
traces. ‘ Ha, ha ! Monsieur l’abbe Maury,' said a boy as
he passed by, ‘ ne voulez-vous pas rester tranquille ? ‘
Over the arch of every nobleman’s gateway the coat of
arms was erased, and printed advertisements of the sale
of the Church lands were fixed on every wall. As we
approached Paris we saw an infinite number of avenues128
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
leading from it in all directions, like the radii of a circle.
Passed at the foot of Montmartre, a hill of granite
covered with windmills.
The clumsy coaches of all shapes that rumble along
without springs; the ladies hurrying out of their way
with rouged cheeks and without hats; the gentlemen
parading with their national cockades, immense muffs,
and copper buckles; and the very beggars accosting us
with a powdered head, a muff, and a cockade—everything
was new to an Englishman; but who could attend a
moment to such ’minutiae,when so many thousands were
beating as it were with one pulse in the cause of liberty
and their country, and crowding every coffee-house and
public walk to congratulate each other on an event so
favourable in its consequences to the best interests of
mankind ?
In the evening walked under the piazzas of the
Palais Royal, a very elegant square, full of shops and
coffee-houses, glittering with lights and crowded with
belles and beaux who were taking their evening
promenade.
January 26.—Breakfasted in a coffee-house, where I
could have passed hours in contemplating the various
figures that were sipping their coffee and	around
me; and dined at the Cafe des Quatre Nations, where
the scene was so diverting and the dishes were all in
masquerade. The moment we entered, one of the waiters
with irresistible grace presented us with a printed bill of
fare, including above two hundred different articles with
the several prices affixed; from fricassees, fricandeaus,
and ragouts down to humble bifteck, so changed in nameREVOLUTIONARY PARIS
129
and nature that we could with difficulty recognise our
old acquaintance. We afterwards repaired to the cirque
in the middle of the Palais Royal, an elegant room, 300
feet by 50, lighted by a long skylight and designed for
every species of entertainment. ‘ Ce n’est pas un cirque,’
said I to a carpenter at work there. ‘ C’est un cirque
Fram^ais,’ said he archly. Here we saw a faro table, sur-
rounded by adventurers, and were soon called away from
remarking their anxious and fluctuating spirits to view
an assault between La Motte, a musician in the king’s
band, and several other fencers.
January1 27.—‘ C’est une belle saison,’ said I to my
hairdresser this morning, ‘ C’est superbe, Monsieur,’ said
he. Sallied forth with a smart	place, Lefevre,
in a chariot driven by a coachman whose scarlet cloak
formed a fine front screen; over Pont Neuf, by the statue
of Henri IV., to the Abbe Grenet,2 a professor in the
College of Richelieu—a sensible, pleasant man, but an
aristocrat; disapproved of the plan of juries now before
the National Assembly, and said it was unsuitable to the
genius of the nation. Proceeded afterwards to Monsieur
Petrie, member of the Assembly from Tobago, a gentle-
man and a man of sense. He said he feared the Assembly
had too many irons in the fire, and that the conduct of the
clergy at Amiens had drawn a motion from Barnave to
petition the king to appoint new bishops. In the even-
ing went to the theatre of the Grands Danseurs du Roi
on the Boulevards, full of the canaille. The first piece
1	Query Jan. 26.
2	The Abbe Grenet was a celebrated writer on geography, and
professor of that science. He disappeared during the Revolution.
K130
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
was the conduct of the Spaniards in Mexico, and when
the priests were disgraced the laughter and shouts of the
audience were very pointed. Went afterwards to the
cirque, and saw some cotillons danced by the dames du
Palais Royal in a very capital style.
January 27.—M. l’abbe Grenet breakfasted with us,
and told us that the mob had last night threatened to
burn the house of M. de Clermont-Tonnerre,1 and were
proceeding to the lanterne with an officer of the police,
hut were prevented. Said Marmontel2 had changed his
principles and disapproved of the new government; that
the Abbe Itaynal3 was an enrage, and at Marseilles ; that
the Abbe Maury was the first man in France and M.
Rabaut4 the most dangerous ; that he was of Rousseau’s
opinion that a republican form of government suited
small states only; that M. d’Alembert, the great mathe-
matician, could never draw a right angle with his com-
passes ; that M. l’abbe Maury had often appeased the
1	M. de Clermont-Tonnerre fell a victim to tire populace in the
succeeding August.
2	The author of Contes Morctux was in his sixty-eighth year. He
had been Secretary of the Academy from D’Alembert’s death in 17S3,
and on the suppression of the Academies in 1791 betook himself to the
writing of new Contes Morctux. He died in 1799.
3	The Abb6 Raynal was at that time the most celebrated French
historian living. In December 1790 a severe criticism on the doings of
the Assembly had appeared, entitled ‘ Lettre de l’abb6 Raynal a l’Assem-
blee Nationale.’ It was by the Comte de Guibert, but embodied Raynal’s
sentiments. In May 1791 he wrote a letter to the President of the
Assembly, which was read at one of its sittings, protesting against its
proceedings and expressing regret that the writer had been ‘ one of those
who, in expressing a generous indignation against arbitrary power, had
perhaps put arms into the hands of licence and anarchy.’ He did not
emigrate, but lived in retirement through the Terror, and died in Paris
in 1796, in nis eighty-third year,
4	See note to page 204.MEN OF THE REVOLUTION
131
cry of ‘ A la lanterne! ’ by saying ‘ You may take me
there, but will you see the clearer for it ? ’1 Sallied
forth afterwards and left our letters and cards at Lord
Gower’s, the Due de Bocliefoucauld’s,2 de Liancourt’s,3
&c. Called on M. de Keralio,4 printer of the
National; saw his daughter, a very pleasing sensible
woman.5 Called at Perregaux’s,6 and saw one of the
1	The Abbe Maury was celebrated all through the Revolution for his
ready wit. 4 I am going to shut up the Abbe Maury in a vicious circle,’
said Mirabeau one day in the Assembly. 4 Then you are going to
embrace me,’ said the Abbe to the great orator’s confusion. Hearing
that he was proscribed he fled, but was brought back. On retaking his
place in the National Assembly he said : 41 shall perish in the Revolution
or get a Cardinal’s hat in fighting it.’ He did not long fight the Revo-
lution, but fled again when the Constituent Assembly was dissolved,
and was made a bishop in partibus, and afterwards a cardinal. He died
at Rome in 1S17.
2	The Due de la Rochefoucauld was one of the early victims of the
Revolution. He was stoned to death at Gisorson the 14th of September
1792, as he was on his way to take the waters at Forges. His mother
and his wife were with him.
3	The Due de Liancourt is the man who, two days before the fall of
the Bastille, had gone to Versailles to tell the king of the state of Paris.
4 It is a revolt,’ said the astonished Louis. 4 No, sir,’ replied the Due de
Liancourt, 4 it is a revolution.’ He was for a time President of the
National Assembly. Not long after Rogers was at his house he fled to
England and took refuge with Arthur Young. On the death of his
cousin he took the title of La Rochefoucauld.
4	M. de Keralio, who had translated various works from English,
German, and Swedish, had translated in 1789 Dr. Price’s sermon 4 On
the Love of our Country.’ He was one of the editors of the Journal des
Savants from 1785 till its suppression in 1792. He died at Grosley in
December 1793.
5	Mdlle. de Keralio was assisting her father in the editorship of the
Mercure National, ou Journal cVEtcit et de Citoyen, and soon after
Rogers’s visit married M. Robert, one of her father’s colleagues. Robert
became Danton’s secretary, but escaped the proscription of the Dan-
tonists. Madame Robert, like her father, was a voluminous translator,
obtaining considerable celebrity. She died in 1821.
6	The banker.132
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
partners, asked after Mr. Keay and heard he was in
England. Dined at the coffee-house, and saw there an
Englishman in the navy, a sceptic in religion, and in
politics an aristocrat; went afterwards to the opera—an
ordinary house, full of the best company. All the boxes
let except two. The 'parterre crowded, and the people
there moved like ears of corn. The opera ‘ Dido,’
Mallieux the first woman. Saw afterwards ‘ Cupid and
Psyche’—a beautiful ballet. Lahore and Nivelon won-
derful dancers, the first more esteemed here than Vestris,
only eighteen years old.
January 28.—Called on Mr. Keay, who was out—Hotel
des Etats Unis, Rue des Gaillons. Called on M. Hottingue
and M. Rougemont,1 and were politely received. Saw
the Church of La Roche; the Italian theatre, with a
beautiful Ionic colonnade in front; and the Theatre de
Monsieur, just finished, the front a circular colonnade.
In the afternoon called at the Marquis de Lafayette’s,
and were introduced by M. de Chatelet,2 through an
anteroom where some officers were dining, into a large
room where he sat at table with thirty or forty officers.
He rose to receive us. We then passed on to another
chamber, where several gentlemen were waiting. He
soon entered with Madame de Lafayette—a pleasing,
lively woman, but not handsome, who told us that we did
her country honour to visit it when they were but in
their infancy; that she could understand English, but
1	M. Bougemont was a merchant to whom Bogers had received an
introduction.
2	This was probably the Due du Chatelet, afterwards one of the
Generals in the army of the Bepublic. He was arrested as a Girondist,
and poisoned himself in prison.AT M. DE LAFAYETTE’S
133
was afraid to talk it. Lafayette then came up, a tall,
handsome man about 35.1 He inquired after Dr. Price,
and asked whether he had any intention to visit Paris;
said that most people could speak a little English and
understand him. We expressed pleasure to find all
things so tranquil—he made no answer. In this room
was a picture of the Bastille. Invited us to dine with
him to-morrow, and said he dined every day at four and
should always be happy to see us. Went to the Theatre
de Monsieur and saw an Italian comedy, ‘ La Pastorella,’
beautifully lighted in the centre with a transparency of
Apollo and his rays. Came home—when Mr. Keay
waited upon me and spent two hours with us. Said that
Lafayette had nearly ruined his fortune, and would not
touch his allowance from the Assembly; that the people
were the most barbarous in the world—that when the
mob on Thursday last were hurrying away the man
they suspected to be a spy a porkman rushed from his
shop and dug his knife into his head ; that Lafayette is
no republican.
January 29.—M. de Chatelet and another gentleman
called this morning. M. de Chatelet invited us to the
Conversation cle la mere	duDue de —a tall,
thin woman, very animated. Advised us to attend the
‘ Comedy,’ and said that we could acquire the language in
two months; that Burke’s letters were written to a
M. Dupont, a young man, attached to the new constitu-
tion, who answered him with great spirit; that we might
go to-morrow to the Assembly with M. Mirabeau, who
He was born in 1757, and was therefore in his 34th year.
1134
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
was yesterday elected President. Wrote letters, and
afterwards dined at M. de Lafayette’s.
Madame de Lafayette said they should come to see
us after they had finished their Revolution; talked with
rapture of Thomson and Gray, and thought the English
language more difficult to learn than the French. La-
fayette came late, inquired what news from England ;
said Pitt had a great majority and the confidence of, but
was no friend to, the people ; that every member of the
Parliament had contributed more or less to increase the
influence of the Crown ; that Pitt did him the honour to
dine with him on his return from Fontainebleau before he
was Minister, in company with Dr. Franklin, and then
told him that he had too much democracy in his prin-
ciples for him.1 There were about twenty-six people,
chiefly officers, there. There were but two courses and
a dessert. After dinner, retired into the drawing-room
to drink coffee. Beyond this was another apartment,
into which he frequently withdrew with some of the
company. Went afterwards to the Theatre Francis,
and saw ‘ Le Jaloux sans Amour ’ and Auguste and
Theodore. The King of Prussia—-very like Prince
Henry—was much struck with it, and suggested some
slight improvements in the costume. Saw there one of
Lafayette’s officers, who said that Lafayette, during
the heat of the Revolution, kept eighty men at his own
expense, and now supports nearly twenty besides the
company at his own table; that he, the officer himself,
1 In a letter to his sister Sarah, dated the 4th of February, Rogers
says that ‘ Lafayette said little about the French Revolution, but was
very inquisitive respecting the state of politics in England.’AT M. DE CONDORCET’S
135
had a shot through his hat at the taking of the
Bastille.
January 30.—Went at ten to the Salle Nationale—-the
tribune crowded, the subject uninteresting—respecting
the alienation of the incomes of the hospitals. Barnave,
Bochefoucauld, and Mirabeau spoke a few words ; the last
is the best speaker in the National Assembly. On the
table was a bust of Monsieur Desiles who fell a victim
to the soldiery at Nancy. The bell rung frequently
by the President Mirabeau to obtain silence. Walked
afterwards in the Tuileries gardens, and saw the palaces
of the Prince of Conde and of Monsieur. Dined with
Mr. Keay (nobody else there), and at half-past five drove
to M. de Condorcet’s, formerly secretary to the Academy
of Belle Lettres, and found Madame de Condorcet sitting
in a little room with a girl of eight years of age. A
charming woman with an oval face, very open and ex-
pressive, and very fair ; a beautiful picture of two ladies
painted in crayons by herself. Full of patriotism. Con-
dorcet, being engaged below with Bochefoucaukl, did not
appear. Drove to the Theatre Franqois and saw ‘ La
Liberte conquise ’—a simple representation of the taking
of the Bastille, interspersed with noble sentiments hut
laid in a distant province. Between the acts ‘ Qa ira ’ was
played by the orchestra, and the audience beat time by
clapping. When soldiers clubbed their arms and em-
braced their fellow-citizens the house resounded with
shouts for some minutes. An English nobleman is intro-
duced, who utters fine sentiments of liberty, and con-
cludes the piece with this address, ‘ Francois, vous avez
conquis la liberte, tachez de la conservir.’136
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
Went from thence at nine to the Club of the year
1789—an elegant room with sixty or seventy members
there. Conversed with two, one of whom offered to
supply me with facts if I would give him queries. They
knew well that there were only two parties—for the
aristocracy and the crown. The apartments were three,
leading into each other. Proceeded afterwards to sup
at Madame de Canissy’s Hotel de Brienne, Bue St.
Dominique, Faubourg St. Germain. Entered through
several rooms into an elegant apartment, where were a
lady and gentleman. The company consisted of Madame
de Canissy, a very lively, talkative woman ; her husband,
who resembled a Methodist minister ; Chatelet; a bishop ;
#
a Scotchman, a very pleasant sensible man, rather dry ;
a foreign Ambassador with a star and ribbon; two other
gentlemen, one of whom came in Chatelet’s cabriolet;
and M. de Condorcet,1 * * a very sensible but very plain
man, and his wife as enchanting as ever. In the room
was an elegant bed, with a portrait of a lady hung at the
head of it; and close by it was a couch on which was a
girl, who soon waked and was taken to the fire to warm
its little feet by Madame de Condorcet and afterwards put
to bed again. The supper was brought in on the table,
at which few sat down, except the ladies, and afterwards
it was carried out in the same manner. Chemistry,
Shakespeare, Junius, Burke, animal magnetism, took
their turns. Chatelet said Dr. Priestley’s ‘ Answer ’ was
1 Mr. Hayward says : 4 He had met Condorcet at Lafayette’s table in
1789.’ Mr. Hayward is, of course, referring to this visit to Paris in 1791.
The meeting with Condorcet, here recorded as taking place at Madame
de Canissy’s, is clearly the first, and there is no trace in this diary of
Rogers’s meeting Condorcet at Lafayette’s at all.AT THE DUC HE ROCHEFOUCAULD’S
137
far below liim; Condorcet that water could be decomposed
into two substances ; and the lady told a story of M.
de Clermont-Tonnerre, which all present confirmed as
true, that he actually believed and had certificates that
a certain woman ‘ etaifc accouchee par le diable.’
February i.—Sallied forth with Mr. Keay. Saw the
Louvre with its most elegant front, the Place de Greve,
the Palais de Justice with the Sainte Chapelle, the Church
of S. Genevieve, the Church of Saint Sulpice, the Palais
de Monsieur, a Eoman bath of the Emperor Julian the
Apostate, the Mint, and the statue of Henri IV. on the
Pont Neuf. M. Petrie called and said that Barnave, in
a colonial committee to which he belonged—Barnave the
leader of the Band—said he hoped we should be freer than
England, but feared that in a few years the National
Assembly would become like the Parliament of England;
that he himself knew that several things had been carried
by corruption. Dined at the Due de Bochefoucauld’s,
with twelve or fourteen gentlemen, waited on at dinner
by near twice the number of servants. Sat [Boddington
and Bogers] on each side the Duke, a little man, con-
tinually winking his eyes, but with an air of great good-
ness, and very civil. During dinner came a letter from
Lord George Gordon enclosing his remarks on the civic
oath. Chatelet said that he was confined for a crime of
which every man in France was guilty.1 After dinner
rose immediately, and withdrew to the other room with
his wife. Mr. Morris from America, M. Cliabot, brother
to Madame, M. Chatelet, &c., were there. In came
1 He was in prison for libels on the Queen of France and the
Empress of Eussia.138
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
immediately the old duchess, such a figure never seen now
hut in a picture-frame, lively and sensible, and a warm
friend to the Revolution.1 Drank coffee and went to
Mr. Boyd’s (a banker), Rue de Gramont, where we were
soon set down to bridant—Mr. and Mrs. Boyd, General
Campbell, Mr. and Miss Harris, and M. Petrie. M. P.
said that a considerable force was sent to the West Indies
to quiet the contending parties there, that Barnave was
completely led by a creole.
February 2.—Went to the palace of M. d’Orleans,
and saw his pictures: several of Raphael, Rubens, and
Titian. Saw the duchess and all the children. Dined
at the traiteur’s, and saw ‘ William Tell,’ a tragedy in
which La Rive acted very well, and was afterwards called
out to make his bow. The audience beat time to £ Ca ira’
with the same enthusiasm as before. Afterwards ‘ Le Fou
par Amour.’ Went to the Club of ’89. A debate on three
different motions to the same purpose, the exclusion of
the members of the Club Monarcliique. That of M. de
Condorcet carried. Was afterwards told that the Club
Monarclnque were friends to despotism under the mask
of moderation ;2 that the Club of ’89 and that of the
Jacobins are much the same in principle, and act in con-
cert in the Assembly, but that the first are less precipi-
tate in their measures, and that the leaders of each have
a degree of jealousy of each other; that a motion had
1	In a letter to his sister Sarah describing this part of his visit to
Paris, Rogers says the Duchess Dowager said to him: ‘ I once wished to
see England, but now we are freer than you, and you must come to us,
not we to you. I had many infirmities, but I have not felt them since
the Revolution.’
2	The Club Monarcliique was first called the Club des Impartiaux.REVOLUTIONARY LEADERS
139
been made more than once to exclude those of ’89 from
the Jacobins, but without success; that of ’89 are about
four hundred. The Jacobins much the largest. M.
Chatelet gave us tickets for the Jacobin Assembly.
February 3.—Saw the pictures in the Louvre, chiefly
French. Observed a coachman with bag and muff.
Dined at M. de Liancourt’s with about twenty-four men,
Chatelet,1 Chabot,2 Chapelier,3 M. de Rochefoucauld, &c.
Very elegant rooms hung with good paintings and look-
ing into the gardens of the Tuileries. Sat by him. A
sumptuous dinner—two courses and a dessert. Mirabeau
no favourite, a man of beau coup cV esprit, with no mate-
rials of his own, but possessed of the singular talent of
availing himself of the ideas of other people. Three
bishops have taken the oath. A revolution at Geneva.
De Rochefoucauld twice excommunicated at Rome. Had
seen Lord Stanhope when at Geneva, then very active
1	This was probably Charles Louis Chatelet, who was a leading
member of the Jacobin Club. He adhered to Robespierre, became one
of the agents of the Reign of Terror, escaped on the 9th Thermidor, but
was arrested some months afterwards, tried, condemned, and in May
1795 executed.
2	Francois Chabot was in his thirty-second year. He had been a
Capuchin monk, and grand vicar of the constitutional Bishop of Blois.
He was at this time an enthusiastic clerical friend of the Revolution.
In the following September he was elected to the Legislative Assembly,
and speedily became one of the leaders of the 4 Mountain ’ which owed
its name to him. He got the decree passed which turned the cathedral
of Paris into a temple of reason. Eventually he fell a victim to the
Terror, being guillotined on the 5th of April, 1794.
3	Isaac Rene Chapelier, then thirty-seven years old, was a member
of the Committee on the Constitution, and drew up the decree for the
abolition of the noblesse. He broke with the party of violence, fled to
England, returned to save his property, was arrested, condemned by the
revolutionary tribunal, and guillotined with Thouret and Despremenil
in April 1794.140
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
with the patriots at the same time with Mr. Wilkes, but
would not associate with him. ‘ I admire his public prin-
ciples,’ said Lord Stanhope, ‘ I think him an oppressed
man (at the time of the North Briton), and would support
his cause, hut his private character is bad, and I don’t
want to become acquainted with him.’ Saw Adam
Smith here and admired his £ Wealth of Nations.’ The
Jacobins above twelve hundred in Paris, with six hundred
corresponding societies in the country ; the Monarchique
about four hundred, professing a desire to establish a
constitution like that of England, but in fact something
worse; that and the Club of ’89 have no other
branches in the country. Liancourt thought their vote
of last night a bad one. Saw a fighting match with
handkerchiefs. Afterwards at the Theatre du Palais
Boyal saw ‘ L’amant femme de chambre ’ and ‘ Ruse
contre ruse, ou Guerre ouverte.’
February 4.—Saw the king’s library and his Cabinet
des Estampes. Saw a Euripides with notes by Eacine.
Dined at the traiteur’s, saw * (Edipe a Colonne ’ and the
ballet of ‘ Cupid and Psyche.’1 Went afterwards to sup
with Madame de Condorcet. About twelve persons at
supper; three rouged girls. After supper played at a
game. The company fixed on a person distinguished in
history or in the present age, and somebody not in the
secret asked what advice they gave her or him (a lady if
the asker be gentleman and vice veQue conseillerez-
vous a mon ami ?
Same day.—Saw the Place Yenddme; the Hopital
1 Is described in a letter. ‘ Such music, such scenery and dancing,’
I think could not be excelled.’‘LE CONVALESCENT DE QUALITE’
141
des Invalides, with a most beautiful dome, the mili-
tary school and the Champ de Mars, the scaffold of which
is still standing, with the elegant heights of the village
Chaillot.
In the centre of the area, on an eminence, is the
maison in which the oath was administered—on one
side is written this inscription : C’est dans ce champ ou
ils venoient de jurer d’etre fideles a la Nation, a la Loi
et au Roi.
On the opposite side were these verses :—
Les mortels sont egaux ; ce n’est pas leur naissance,
C’est la seule vertu qui fait la difference.
La loi dans tout etat doit etre universelle ;
Les mortels, quels qu’ils soient, sont egaux devant elle.
Saw the Hotel de Ville ; the long room in the Louvre,
430 yards in length with the exhibition room. Went
to Rougemont’s, where were about fourteen people, two
men from Neufcliatel and an Italian chevalier who went
with us to the Italian theatre. Saw ‘ Selima and Azor ’
and ‘ Le Convalescent de qualite ’—a nobleman who having
been long confined by illness and, being ignorant of the
Revolution, is surprised to find his servants out of livery,
but is told that la loi Va dechire—finds that his daughter
whom he had destined to a convent is in love with a
bourgeois, and writes for a lettre de cachet to confine
him—is insulted with the designation of his family
name and an application to pay his debts—but is at last,
after much point and equivoque, brought to reason. £ He
bien ! demain Monsieur le Colonel, vous monterez la
garde.’ English horses here at sixty and one hundred
guineas.142
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
February 5.—Saw the family go to Mass through the
apartments of the Louvre. The king came first with a
good-humoured unmeaning face, afterwards the queen
bowing courteously to all about her, with the dauphin, a
little pale-faced boy with a kind of night-cap on his head.
She has a beautiful profile, but her eyes are heavy.1 Then
Monsieur, very like the king, his eldest brother, and
his sister. Heard Mass—a most beautiful concert.
Raphael’s ‘ Cartoons ’ and his ‘ Mass at Bolsena,’ in tapes-
try on the walls.
Attempted to see the king dine, but could not, having
frocks. In the evening at five went to Vespers, where a
number of men in flannel gowns and hoods chanted for
about half an hour in a very deep discordant tone. The
king and queen were there ; below were guards forming
an avenue up to the altar. Afterwards, at the Theatre de
Madlle. de Montausier (who was there), saw ‘ Le Sourd’
inimitably well performed by an actor, who imitated the
Gascon dialect. Sat in the orchestra. Dined at the
d’hote by myself, B. having a headache, Saw the hotel
of the Prince de Salm,2 who asks 75,000 francs for it.
February 6.—Called on Perigord.3 Saw the remains
of the Bastille, about ten feet high, in an area of three or
four acres and surrounded by a fosse. In the centre a
1	In the letter to his sister, Rogers thus describes the king and queen :
The king is a very easy, good-humoured man in appearance ; but the
queen, I think, has neither beauty nor good-humour. She has a fine
profile, but her eyes are very heavy.’
2	The Prince de Salm-Kirbourg was another of the victims of the
Revolution. He was guillotined on the 23rd of July 1794 at the age of
forty-eight. Fourteen months later his property was restored to his
family. His hotel became the headquarters of the Legion of Honour.
Charles Maurice de Perigord, then bishop of Autun, afterwards
Prince de Talleyrand.AT M. DE PERIGORD’S
143
staircase that led into darkness; several cells open to
daylight, one of which had a cross traced on the stone—
the melancholy amusement of some heavy hour. Perigord
knew Lafayette—a man now forgotten, a courtier at
bottom, but a very amiable, well-meaning man. No other
could fill his place when he took it. He said handsomely
that he accepted it because he knew there was danger
in it. The delicacy of his constitution makes him observe
a regimen of rice and eggs. Waked often ten times in a
night, as every rumour is brought to him. P. said the
opera was once the finest thing in the world, on account of
its company, but now things were changed. Afterwards
saw the Gobelins tapestry, the colouring beautiful beyond
conception—twenty years’ practice before a workman
weaves figures. Saw a collection of Wouvermann’s prints
at Bassan’s, Bue Serpent; saw the Place Victoire, where
Victory is placing (or taking away) a wreath on the brow
of Louis XIV. Dined at the traiteur’s and afterwards
fingered away an hour at the Ambigu Comique, a kind
of Sadler’s Wells on the Boulevards. Bode this morning
on part of them, and was charmed with the villas and
various buildings; they are planted on each side with
trees.
February 7.—Bode along the avenue from the
Barrier, surrounded with ginguettes 'pour faire des noces
etfestins, through La Chapelle to St. Denis. Saw among
a crowd of monarclis Henry IV., Francis I., Hugh Capet,
and Turenne; among the curiosities, the beautiful onyx
vase mentioned by Gray, on which is sculptured in basso-
relievo the rites of Bacchus, referred to the time of
Ptolemy. Saw relics of saints in abundance. A silver144
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
bell most musical. Went at five to the Schools of
Painting in the Louvre, and saw about thirty students
drawing and moulding in terra-cotta the figure of a man
who lay naked in the centre in an oblique posture, his
right hand extended and liis left shading his eyes. The
same number above drawing a man suspended by both
his arms in pulleys. Went afterwards to the Theatre du
Palais Eoyal and saw the ‘ Seigneur Suppose.’
February 8.—Ptode with Mr. Iveay along the road to
Versailles. Passed Passy, the village from which Pilatre
de Rosier first ascended in a balloon, and saw the house
in which Dr. Franklin lived, a white house with green
windows. At Sevres saw the beautiful china in a princely
house, and proceeded by several houses to Versailles,
now a desert. Like the deserted town in the £ Arabian
Nights ’ silence has laid her finger on it. Saw amidst a
number of statues Jupiter Stator before which Augustus
and the Caesars made vows. It had stood in the palace,
but commanded too much respect there. Saw the ‘ Witch
of Endor,’ by Salvator Rosa, ‘ Alexander in the Tent of
Darius’ by Le Brun, and ‘Charles I.’ by Vandyke; the
Church of the Convent of the Augustines, and the room in
which the Assembly first met—all perfect in their kind.
Some Swiss exercising there. Dined with Mr. Iveay.
Went afterwards to the Societe des Amis de la Constitu-
tion. Passed through a long arched passage, and ascended
by a stone staircase into a long narrow room, with a low
vaulted roof, formerly the library of the Jacobins. Over the
recesses for the books were written £ Historic profane.’
£ Interpretes Scripturae.’ £ SS. Patres,’ &c., with several
portraits of nuns and abbots. An inquiry into the affairTHE CONQUERORS OF THE BASTILLE
145
of La Chapelle was before them, the room full, 300
or 400 present. A fulmination against the Soeiete
Monarchique. The conquerors of the Bastille presented
themselves, three plain modest men, thanked them for
having been chosen members of their Society, presented
them with a book, and desired leave to put themselves
under the protection of the Society, as the}7 had reason
to expect every moment to be assassinated. The
President replied that every citizen was under the pro-
tection of the law, that assassins seldom attacked men of
true courage, that if they maintained that character they
had hitherto borne they would be always dear to every
friend of his country, and that in the hour of danger
every member of that Society would stand foremost in the
defence of men who deserved so well of their country.
February 9.— Saw with Mr. Iveay the chapel of the
Carmelites in which is a beautiful Guido, but ill-engraved
by Strange ; and Madame La Valliere in the character of
a Magdalene, the clief cVoeuvre of Le Brun. Le Yal de
Grace, a gaudy church, and the chapel of the Carthu-
sians, but Le Sueur’s ‘ History of St. Bruno ’ is
removed to the Louvre and lies packed up. Walked into
the stone quarries (near Yal de Grace), that undermine
the city—three miles one way and a mile and a half the
other ; walked above half an hour ; saw a cavity into
which the nuns of Yal de Grace were let down when in
disgrace, and fed with bread, dropped down by a string.
Saw the workmen employed, several air-holes, could walk
for days a different route, many branches and turns ; were
conducted by a pleasant lively fellow. At Notre Dame
heard Mass, saw a good picture of Le Sueur’s, and from
L146
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
the top of the great tower saw the city intersected by the
Seine and crowded with churches, convents and palaces,
the environs rich and woody and gay with chateaus and
villages—a much better view than from St. Paul’s. The
day favourable. The pavement of Paris bad—the stones
being cut square and not oblong are soon worn round by
the feet of the horses; the lights of Paris dazzling, from
their hanging in the centre before the eyes of the coach-
man, but the lamp sooner cleaned and repaired from its
construction being an octagon with framed glass.
Dined at Perigord’s with Mr. Payn, Mr. Hartley,
Mr. Lockhart, and several Englishmen. "Went to the
opera, and saw Renaud with a divertissement.
February io.—Rode with Mr. Iveay by the Duke of
Orleans’s English garden and a barrier, a very beautiful
Grecian Rotunda by the side of it to Pont Neuilly, a very
elegant bridge, with six elliptical arches, on the top of a
direct plane. The country round it beautiful. Rode
through the Bois de Boulogne, chiefly young wood, where
the king generally rides every morning—to Bagatelle,
Comte cl’Artois’s small house, not inelegant, with a
garden, a false imitation of the English. Passed
Madrid, a gothic chateau built by Francis I. after his
return from Spain, inlaid with porcelain, but now ruin-
ous, and sentenced to fall by the National Assembly.
Saw Longchamps, a little hill with a nunnery on its
summit, in which are musical performances the three
last days of Passion week. A few years ago a favourite
opera-singer was engaged there, and the crowd from
Paris was far too great to be accommodated. The day
being fine numbers amused themselves with riding inREVOLUTIONARY SOCIETIES
147
the Bois tie Boulogne. The thing took, and in these
days every year all Paris in its best equipages pours out
to parade in the Bois de Boulogne. The palace of
Versailles, almost entirely built from a hunting seat by
Louis XIV., who did not like St. Germain’s, a finer situa-
tion, as it commanded St. Denis,'! where he was to be
buried. Saw St. Cloud, the queen’s house, where the
king resided last summer, a very elegant modern house
—the gardens are in infamous taste. A beautiful day.
Walked with Mr. Keay in the Tuileries—full of company.
Saw the dauphin’s garden and duckery at the end of it,
in which his name was sown in mustard seed—-Louis
Dauphin. Fair people always inconstant and wavering.
Went to the Bouche de Fer, a debating society on the
principles of Bousseau, in the Circus, his bust before the
President, the Abbe Mailly—a numerous company.
Afterwards saw ‘ The Apothecary ’ and ‘ Sourd ’ at M. de
Montpensier’s, and looked into the Society of ’89—nothing
doing—went to the Jacobins, but it was over. If one
hundred millions have been spent on building it, as much
has been spent on going to see it. Chatelet not at the
Jacobins, because no favourite, as his friend Lafayette
is not popular.
February 12.—A delicious day. Bode to Vincennes,
where is a palace in a very pleasant park, in which our
Henry V. died, and in which Louis XIV. first saw
Madame La Valliere, a chapel with beautiful painted
windows (mentioned by Gray) and a State prison,
chamber within chamber, lighted by a narrow grated
window and carved on the walls of each, to chase ennui
from the victims of tyranny. From the roof is a deli-
L 2
(148
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
cious view of the suburbs of Paris and the country, and
round each story runs a gallery with a low parapet,
into which some of the prisoners were taken for air.
Who can sigh on seeing the still gloom that pervades
Versailles, the grandest palace and the most elegant
village in the world—who can sigh on seeing the grass
grow in the courts of the one and the streets of the
other, when he recollects that so many dungeons share-
its downfall ? Dined at the	d'hote, and afterward
walked along the Seine and saw La Sainte Chapelle,.
mixed in every group that was collected by the buffoon
and the ballad-singer, and walked in the Tuileries, which
were full of company. Saw ‘ Cupid and Psyche.’
February 13.—At the Church of Notre Dame, from a
gallery, saw three cures elected by the Electoral Assembly
in the great aisle; each from the pulpit delivered a short
discourse expressive of his attachment to the present
constitution. He said that his office as preacher was to
enlighten the people, and give energy to the laws ; that
heaven approved of the Confederation, and that to incul-
cate these sentiments would be the last employment of
his life. High Mass performed. Afterwards the king and
queen, with the two children and Monsieur and Madame
walked to chapel. Saw them at Mass afterwards. The
Tuileries gardens very full of company. Attempted
the National Assembly with Mirabeau’s ticket, but was
refused : nobody admitted there. Mr. Keay dined with
us on frog pie, and we went to see £ Didon ’ and ‘ Le Devin
du Village,’ an opera, the words and the music by
Rousseau, the fable very simple, the music in general
charming. To-morrow leave Paris.ROUSSEAU
149
February 14.—Mr. Iveay called and spent an hour
■with us, and said the Protestants were numerous in this
town, but that all calculations were very erroneous and
that there was no place of public worship but the English
Ambassador’s chapel; that the king had allowed twenty
thousand a year to the opera, but not now, and owing to
this circumstance and the noblesse having thrown up
their boxes, it was in debt fifty thousand to its tradesmen ;
the Theatre de Monsieur also much in debt; that in one of
the churches at Rouen he saw nobody but a woman flat
on the ground apparently in the greatest agony, that he
watched till she rose up and went out—he had the curi-
osity to see her face, it was the wickedest in the world.
Said that Rousseau copied music at Paris, when he had
about 100/. a year, but would not accept anything more
than his due, as he (Mr. Keay) was told last night by a
lady, who took him some to copy, purposely to see him, but
that when she offered to leave more his wife assured her
that he would not suffer her to take it; that the Revolu-
tion was in great measure ascribed to his £ Contrat Social,’
but that Voltaire with his winning vivacity first led the
French to think on the subject; that he saw him when
he w7as received at the French Comedy with great
honours, just after the present king had refused to see
him at Versailles, though in policy he should have gone
to meet him, and that that affair was the first blow to
the old government; that he knew Diderot perfectly,
and saw him just before his death ; his advice to him he
should always observe: £ Never let a Frenchman come
nearer to you than this,’ said he, stretching out his arm
to some distance in his usual emphatic manner. The150
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
air mild and pleasant as October, but cloudy. The
country soon improved with some rich distances, and
villages everywhere on the horizon, but was still open
and flat on the foreground and intersected with roads
planted on each side with trees in straight lines. The
ground almost all tillage, and the farmers at the plough—
a single man guides it. It is drawn by two horses
abreast, and no other man attends with a whip, as in
England. Our post-boy had ruffles and earrings, and
drove as fast as in England. Recollect that in the Paris
houses there are no passages, but that we always passed
through the eating parlour in our way to the drawing-
room. Saw frequently two smiths shoeing one horse.
At Senlis where are two or three old collegiate churches,
we walked along a pleasant promenade that runs beside
the town and saw near twenty women washing clothes in
the little river Nonette, and beating them with a wooden
trowel. From thence passed through the Prince de
Conde’s woods, being now near Chantilly, along a serpen-
tine road to Pont St. Maxence, so called from an elegant
bridge with three elliptic arches on strong pillars, and
a good towing-path built by Maxence, who built Pont
Neuilly and is hoav engaged on Pont Louis Seize. The
view from the bridge very rich and woody on both sides.
On the roadside from Bourgot were frequently four
handsome stone pillars forming a square—on inquiring
found they were gibbets. Walked in the village, full of
rosy healthy children with black eyes and round merry
faces. On stopping to admire them a woman pleasantly
asked us if we would have a coop to take some of them
away with us. At the church door saw two little fellows.ON THE ROAD TO BRUSSELS
151
striding over the pathway with spelling-books under their
arms. On the pillar that formed one side of the portico
was fixed a board full of nails, with several written
advertisements of wood and houses upon it, as in some
of the country churchyards in England. The river
Oise winds here very pleasantly through the valley.
Arrived here at half-past four, and on inquiry learnt, with
regret, that last night there had been a dance of about two
hundred people, with three or four violins, in the ‘ Grand
Salon ’ by the riverside, and eight dances at a time—one
sous for each dance. Played cm noble jeu de billard, a
favourite game among the townspeople. In the coffee-
house at Versailles the labouring people of both sexes
drank coffee and talked politics. Saw a drunken man
there, the only one I have seen.
February 15.—Set out at half-past six through a flat
country and along a straight road. Near Gournay,
which lies in a hollow, the scene became more unequal
and woody. A chateau stands just without the town.
Here walked on, while the horses were changing, and had
an extensive but uniform view on the left, the larks sing-
ing and the air mild and serene. The young corn
springing up in different streaks with the freshest
verdure, and a file of beeches skirting the edge of the
horizon on each side, while little plots of villages appeared
here and there. Beyond Couchy les Pots left the chaise,
and walked above a mile under a row of apple-trees that
were planted on the field-side—the sun shining and the
larks still singing. Breakfasted at Boye, at the ‘ Soleil
d’or,’ where we were waited on by some very handsome
young women, the younger sisters of our landlady at152
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
Pont St. Maxence. Walked on a pleasant terrace, which
surrounds the village, and is dignified with the name of
a rampart. A Hard was levied from us by some hoys to
play for at top. At some little distance saw a convent
now nearly deserted by the monks of the Cordeliers. The
day soon turned to heavy rain which lasted till within
a post of Peronne—but the country continued flat and
the prospect extensive, diversified with streaks of corn
and fallow ground melting away into the softest colours
through the harmonising medium of a rainy atmosphere.
The crucifix rose frequently by the wayside, a windmill
was generally turning on an eminence, and several spires
were frequently visible at once above the horizon. Passed
by several orchards and soon descended to Peronne, a
fortified town round which the Somme is carried, and
into which we entered through two gateways. Ascended
the ramparts by a crucifix before which a well-dressed
woman was devoutly kneeling; commanded on one side
the outskirts of the town, and on the other a valley
nearly half a mile wide and flooded with water, but
broken into little islands planted with cabbages or
covered with willows and rushes. Observed two little
towers enclosed with strong square walls that were each
washed by the water and comprehended about half an
acre. Imagined they were castles, but found them to
be summer-houses in which the bourgeois dine and drink
tea. From one part looked up the great street and the
market-place. Descended into the town by the crucifix
but the scene was changed, some children playing merrily
before it. Every Sunday evening is here consecrated
to the dance in which the bourgeois and the servants areON THE ROAD TO BRUSSELS
153
regularly taught; an academy is open for the latter
to-night.
At Marche le Pot met the Brussels diligence, a long un-
wieldy vehicle, containing eight inside passengers in three
rows, three in a kind of cabriolet in front, two in a basket
at the top, and an immense [mass of] luggage behind and
before. It was drawn by eight horses, two abreast, with
two postilions on the first and third near horse. It had
hardly moved ten yards when it fell into a deep rut; a
cry of despair immediately issued from it, the passengers
jumped out from the front and crawled from the top,
and the women within desired with great fervency to be
let out. Above twenty people flew with ropes to restore
it to its proper centre, and with great efforts it was re-
moved from the rut without a downfall. In the mean-
time a cheerful fellow, who had descended from his post
in front with the same ease and unconcern that he would
have crossed a threshold, walked up to our chaise door
and inquired wdiat news from Paris and whether we
were going to London. He said he was a Dutchman,
and a rope-dancer by profession; that he had served
under Astley in London and also at Sadler’s Wells, and
w7as now engaged by him at Paris, to which place he was
going. At Pioye had left the diligence from Paris to
Brussels where it stood—the gaze of the market-place.
In the bookseller’s shop in the Palais Loyal asked for the
‘ History of the Bastille,’ and a well-dressed man imme-
diately opening it [the shopman] and unfolding a plan
of it, ‘There,’ said he, ‘was Marmontel confined, and
that,’ he added with all the unconcern possible, ‘was
my apartment.* ‘You, sir'?’ ‘Yes, sir, I published154
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
something that gave offence, and I passed eight months'
there.’ ‘ Were you well treated ? ’	‘ Never better, sir.’
Are lodged at the Grand Cerf, kept hy the eldest sister
of those at Pont St. Maxence and Roye.
February 16.—Set off at six precisely, by owl-light,
through the same flat country, and were driven hy a
phlegmatic Fleming with a large round hat and a pipe
in his mouth. At Cambrai, a large handsome town
where we breakfasted, saw the cathedral, a large old
building, the gates of the chancel sealed, with the names
of the Commissioners affixed to them. A woman had
torn off part of the paper saying they should not keep
her God in gaol. Saw the tomb and bust of Fenelon,
with a very true Latin epitaph. The palace contiguous,
very old, the most modern part built by him. Went
through the cloisters of the convent of Chartreuse and
saw a picture, hy Rubens, of our Saviour taken down
from the Cross—very fine colouring, with some good
figures. Was shown it by one of the Fathers, a mild
cheerful man about fifty. We desired to see his apart-
ment ; he nodded assent and said it was hut small. We
followed him up a brick staircase, that led from the
cloisters, into a long narrow gallery into which their
different cells opened with their names inscribed upon
them. His was indeed small, and consisted of a bed-
chamber and oratory, with a little casement to each;
altogether about twelve feet by six. I stepped into his
study; there were several little phials on his desk, there
was but one book—a missal. He said they dined at
eleven, had no breakfast, but supped at six, went early
to bed and rose at twelve, when their matins lasted tillVALENCIENNES AND MONS
155
one. There were but seventeen monks there. In a new
church lower down saw some very good painting in bas-
relief. The Hotel de Ville, in the market-place, just
finished and very elegant. Left the town on foot, having
dismissed our guide—an old man who once lived in
England with Lord Stormont—and pursued the road to
Brussels, having a valley on the left in which was a village
shaded with trees. The country soon opened again, the
eye commanding a wide circle, diversified by no near
objects, but frequently pointed with above eight spires
at once. Valenciennes, which we soon approached, lay
low, but appeared very considerable from its towers and
steeples. It proved the largest town we had seen except
Paris, and was very strongly fortified. Walked on the
ramparts, but were stopped when we had completed but
half the circuit by a shower. Returned into the town
and crossed a very handsome	distinguished by a
pedestrian statue of Louis XV., an hotel de ville, and a
theatre. Saw the Hospital for Orphans, and the Citadel
—a modern brick building. From the ramparts had a
Flemish view—cold, tame, and watery. Here Boddington
bought a puppy of an apothecary. ‘ Otez vos cockades,
Messieurs.’
February 17.—Set off before seven, and soon entered
the Emperor’s dominions, along a straight road planted
with willows, raised above the country, and terminated
with a church. The face of it soon improved. Mons,
where we breakfasted, is a large fortified town, with a
very handsome place, in which is the Hotel de Ville ; and
where the Austrian troops were exercising. The faces of
the people were here quite Flemish, and had lost all the156
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
French vivacity, blit there were many very pretty
women. Between this and Valenciennes was a stone
pillar to the memory of the Prince of Hainault. Casteau,
the first post, was a very romantic village, the ground
broken, and the huts one above another. The landscape
now became English, a valley on each side full of farm-
houses and enclosures, and bounded by hills dotted
with wood. The road continued straight to Brussels. On
each side were many Santa Marias, enclosed in a kind of
sentry-box and peeping through an iron lattice. Met
several strolling friars, one of whom was taken into a
coach by a fat abbe.As we approached Brussels saw
low carts drawn by four dogs abreast and a horse as
leader. Austrian Flanders, at least that part which is
near the capital, is far pleasanter and more varied than
French Flanders. The post horse which the man rides has
bells. The uniform changed from blue and scarlet to
scarlet and yellow, and they were less scrupulous in
passing another traveller than in France. At Brussels
saw ‘ L’Amant jaloux,’ an opera, in an oblong theatre,
the boxes partitioned from each other and lighted within
—their fronts of wood, painted white, with light gold
ornaments, in compartments very cheerful and elegant.
The parterre full of officers. French dukes, marquises,
and counts here.
The glimpses of revolutionary Paris in this diary are
the more valuable because they give us its social rather
than its political aspects. It is ‘ France standing on the
top of golden hours,’ as Wordsworth described it, though
without many of the signs Wordsworth saw, of ‘ humanTHE AUTHOR OF ‘ ZELUCO ’
157
nature seeming born again.’ The hearty admiration of
England expressed to Rogers by some of the most promi-
nent leaders of the movement in France, was repaid on
the English side by the sympathy which all liberal minds
felt with Frenchmen. More than one illustration of this
feeling is given in Rogers’s correspondence. One of the
literary acquaintances he had made in London was Dr.
John Moore, the father of Sir John Moore and of Admiral
Sir Graham Moore, and then best known as the author
of ‘ Zeluco,’ the most popular novel of its time. Dr.
Moore had published, in 1779, ‘Views of Society and
Manners in France, Switzerland, and Germany,’ and in
1787 a similar book on Italy. He had also written
£ Medical Sketches ’—a work which may have suggested
Warren’s ‘ Passages from the Diary of a late Physician,’
as ‘ Zeluco ’ is said to have kindled the fancy of Byron and
led to the production of ‘ Childe Harold.’ ‘ Zeluco,’ which
has as a second title, ‘ Various Views of Human Nature
taken from Life and Manners, Foreign and Domestic,’
w7as published in 1789, and Mrs. Barbauld says in her
Memoir of the author that it at once placed him in the
first rank of writers of that class. Rogers probably met Dr.
Moore at the house of Miss Helen Williams, and, different
as the two men were, a warm friendship sprang up between
them. Dr. Moore was a large man, with shaggy eyebrows
and a most expressive countenance; shrewd and humor-
ous in conversation, full of knowledge of men and things.
He had been with the army in Flanders, had studied
medicine in Paris, had then practised as a surgeon in
Glasgow till he was forty, and had afterwards travelled
for five years with the Duke of Hamilton. He was in his158
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
sixtieth year when ‘ Zeluco’ was published. Rogers had
probably received some introductions from him when he
went to Paris, and wrote to him during his stay in that
capital. Dr. Moore’s reply illustrates both the character of
the man and the feelings and opinions which were current
at the time.
Dr. Moore to Rogers.
‘ Dear Sir,—I thank you very cordially for your letter,
which came a propos to destroy the effect of recent ru-
mours : of a counter revolution, of the king being in
danger of being ravished by two old princesses, of insur-
rections in all quarters, &c.—all of which your satisfactory
and perspicuous letter dispersed, as the fogs and clouds
are dispersed by the rays of the sun. The abettors of
despotism will he continually inventing stories of the
same kind, and we may expect to hear of Spaniards
jumping over the Pyrenean mountains, of the Emperor
giving peace to the Turks by the Pope’s orders, that he
may be at more leisure to make war on the Christians;
of armies in disguise at the gates of Paris, and other
tales equally probable. Why should they not still hope
for the restoration of the Bastille, and the return of a
monarch in all the splendour of unlimited power ? Do
not the Jews still look for the coming of the Messiah ?
‘ I envy your present opportunity very much of being
an eye-witness to the most complete triumph over tyranny
and debasing prejudices that Philosophy and the free
spirit of man ever enjoyed. I always loved the French
as an ingenious and amiable people ; I now admire them
as real and enlightened Franks, and am not surprisedDR. MOORE ON THE REVOLUTION
159
--as many here seem to be—that the National Assembly
have made so little progress towards the establishment of
a steady free constitution, but I wonder rather that they
have made so much. It ought to be remembered that it
was an unforeseen accident (the foolish attack of Lambert
in the Tuileries) that threw the power so rapidly in their
hands, and although they had the spirit to seize it with
ability, yet they must have respect to the prejudices of
that very populace who were the immediate instruments
of transferring it to them. This no doubt clogs and
retards their progress in the rearing a stable and com-
modious structure of Freedom, but with a little time
I am persuaded ca ira a la derniere perfection, and they
have my best wishes. Make my best compliments to M.
de Lafayette, and tell him so. If I can get over to Paris
in summer I shall carry letters to him from his friend
Colonel Fitzpatrick, and the Duchess of Devonshire.
‘ I have not yet seen M. Dupont’s answer to Mr.
Burke. But you will bring what is most curious when
you come.
‘ There is nothing new here, only some people imagine
that Pitt intends to send his veto by the Baltic and the
Mediterranean against the Empress’s seizing Constanti-
nople.	Pour	moi,je n’en sgai
‘ Adieu, my dear Rogers ! Believe me always, with
much esteem, sincerely yours,
4 J. Moore.
‘Clifford Street: February io, 1791.’
Dr. Moore’s letter fitly ends a chapter, the notes to
which may be fairly regarded as the disappointing answer160
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
of history to the anticipations he expresses—anticipations
which Rogers, as his diary shows, fully shared. The
disillusion came quickly enough for them and for Europe.
We have but to put ourselves in their position to under-
stand the revulsion of feeling which in this country
threw hack the cause of social and political reform for
forty years. Rogers looked back on this visit to Paris
in 1791 with a feeling of horror. He often spoke of
the men he had then seen, hut he did not refresh his
memory by references to his diary, which he seems to
have put aside and almost forgotten. To read it would
have been indeed to walk among ruins and tombs. He
always recollected with a shudder that most of the men
he met were, at the very time he was talking to them
and sharing their glowing anticipations, standing, as
it were, with one foot in the grave. There are, perhaps,
few more moving spectacles in history than that of the
old Duchess-dowager de la Rochefoucauld,£ a figure never
seen now but in a picture frame,’ talking to Rogers with
enthusiasm of the Revolution, declaring that she had
not felt her many infirmities since it began, and then
within eighteen months driven into exile and called to
witness the massacre of her son by the angry populace
he had lived to serve. Rogers himself, Talleyrand, and
Lafayette were almost the only men whose names occur
in this chapter who lived to see any approach to the
rearing of that ‘ stable and commodious structure of
freedom ' which Dr. Moore hoped the French would in a
little time bring to perfection. The whole political life
of Rogers’s Whig friends in 1791, with the exception of
Richard Sharp, was spent under the cloud of publicDISENCHANTMENT
161
disfavour and discouragement which settled down on all
political movements that seemed to look in the direc-
tion of popular enfranchisement. It was not till the time
of the great Reform Bill that the English people fully
recovered from the frightful apprehension, that triumphs
of philosophy and the free spirit of man over tyranny
and debasing prejudices, to use Dr. Moore’s words,
might lead in England, as they had led in France, to a
Reign of Terror.
M162
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
CHAPTER VI.
Helen Williams—Conversation at her house—Merry and the Della
Cruscans—Journey through Wales, 1791—Mrs. Barbauld’s Letter—
Visit to Dr. Parr, 1793.
The memorable visit to revolutionary Paris was only one
of the events of this year which Rogers has left on record.
On his return to London in the latter part of February,
he naturally resumed his morning journeys from Stoke
Newington to the banking house in Freeman’s Court.
On one of these daily journeys an event happened of which
he often spoke to his friends with some emotion. Mr.
Dyce reports it in the ‘ Table Talk ’ in his usual bald and
half-remembered manner, but the best and most vivid
account is given in the postscript to a letter addressed by
the Rev. John Mitford of Benhall to the Gentleman s
Magazine, soon after Rogers’s death.1 Mr. Mitford, him-
self, in the letter, illustrates the premature confidence
with which some of Rogers’s friends spoke and wrote
about him, by expressing the opinion that Rogers had
left no diaries behind him. In the postscript Mr. Mit-
ford says—
£ The last drive I ever took with Mr. Rogers in his
chariot was one often previously made by us into the
City, to pay one of his regular calls on his oldest friend,
1 Gentleman’s Magazine, vol. xlv. p. 147.WESLEY LYING IN STATE
163
Mr. William Maltby of the London Institution, who had
been his schoolfellow more than eighty years previous to
this time, and who died a year or two before him, nearly
at the same age. In returning by the City Road, he
pulled the check-string opposite to the Bunhill Fields
Burial-ground, and then desired me to get out and read
the inscription on the stone which stands conspicuously
over the grave of the well-known Thomas Hardy. This
being done, he said : “ You see that little chapel opposite—
go and look carefully at the house which stands there to
the left of it, and then come back and get in.” This all
duly performed, and again seated side by side, he said:
“ When I was a young man in the banking house, and
my father lived at Newington, I used every day in going
into the City to pass by this place. One day in returning
I saw a number of respectable persons of both sexes
assembled here, all well dressed in mourning, and with
very serious look and behaviour. The door of the house
was open, and they entered it in pairs. I thought that,
without impropriety, I might join them, so we all walked
upstairs, and came to a drawing-room in the midst of
which was a table; on this table lay the body of a person
dressed in a clergyman’s robes, with bands, and his grey
hair shading his face on either side. He was of small
stature, and his countenance looked like wax. We all
moved round the table, some of the party much affected,
with our eyes fixed on the venerable figure that lay before
us; and as we moved on, others came up and succeeded
in like manner. After we had gone the round of the
table in our lingering procession we descended as we
came. The person that lay before us was the celebrated164
EARLY LIEE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
John Wesley, and at the earnest request of his congre-
gation, they were permitted to take this pathetic and
affectionate farewell of their beloved pastor.” ’
Wesley died on the 2nd of March, 1791. Southey
does not mention this lying-in-state in the house in the
City Road, but only records that on the day before the
funeral, the body was carried into the chapel, ‘ and there
lay in a kind of state becoming the person, dressed in
his clerical habit, with gown, cassock, and band; the old
clerical cap on his head, a Bible in one hand, and a
white handkerchief in the other.’ The crowds that flocked
to see him were so great that the funeral was accelerated,
and took place between five and six in the morning. The
scene which Rogers so vividly remembered, in which he
had been privileged to catch a glimpse of the great man’s
face as he lay dead, must have been an earlier and more
private lying-in-state than that which Southey records.1
Two of Rogers’s distinctive characteristics were his
faculty of rapid and correct observation and his retentive
memory. He used to say that Samuel Boddington, his
companion in the visit to revolutionary Paris, attended
a series of lectures on Memory, delivered by the Stokes of
those days, Mr. Feinaigle, but on being asked the name
of the lecturer, could not recollect it. Rogers was asked
why he did not attend the series. He answered that he
wished to learn the art of forgetting. The remarkable
volume of his ‘ Recollections ’ published by his nephew
Mr. William Sharpe after his death, has shown the
1 Mr. Dyce in the last edition of his ‘ Table Talk ’ quotes Mr. Mitford’s
letter, and expresses the opinion that Rogers’s memory had played
him false. The view I have taken of the apparent discrepancy is, I
think, far the most likely to be the true explanation.A LITERARY PARTY
165
wonderful power he possessed of noting down the actual
words he had heard in a long conversation. The earliest
illustration which his diaries contain of this power of
reproducing an evening’s talk, is an account of a conver-
sation at the house of Miss Helen Williams. At one of
her literary parties he met Henry Mackenzie, whose
acquaintance he had already made in Edinburgh, and
a number of other men and women of letters, some of
whom were then famous, but are now forgotten, and one
or two of whom were then comparatively unknown, but
are now familiar names after nearly a hundred years.
‘April 21, 1791.—At Miss Williams’s.
‘ Mr. Mackenzie, a man of very mild and unassuming
manners, was first announced, and began upon Edin-
burgh. “I believe,” said he, “conversation is more
cultivated there than here. In London the ardour of
pursuit is greater. The merchant, the lawyer, and the
physician are enveloped in their different professional
engagements, but the Scotchman will retire early from
the counter or the counting-house to lecture on Meta-
physics, or make the grand tour of the arts and sciences.
I believe we have a more contemplative turn than you,
and it arises partly from a defect— the little commerce
and agriculture we have among us. We are also more
national, and there is not a labourer among us that is
not versed in the history of his country. Local history
is what we are particularly fond of.”
‘ “ I had observed it,” I said. “ Not a Highlander I
met but could give me the history of every pebble about
his village.”EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
166
‘ Mr. Mackenzie : “ I remember an innocent trick that
was once played on an Englishman. When Dr. Eoebuck
was riding in Scotland, he was assured by a friend that
every peasant knew Greek. ‘ Let us visit, for instance, that
farmhouse! ’ Dr. Eoebuck assented. It belonged to
Wilkie, the celebrated author of the ‘ Epigoniad,’ and he
was at work as usual in the dress of a labourer. Dr.
Eoebuck made an observation on tillage. ‘ Yes, sir,’ said
Wilkie, ‘ but in Sicily there was once a different method,’
and he quoted Theocritus. Dr. Eoebuck was thunder-
struck. Wilkie was an original character. He had
conversed so long with the ancients that he had lost
every trace of the modern in his composition. When he
paid Edinburgh a visit at a time that party ran high on
some particular subject, he attacked the leading wits of
the day in a large circle with such spirit that he set them
to flight, and when his hearers, who were struck with the
uncouthness of his look and gesture, expressed their
surprise at his courage : ‘ Shall I,’ said he, £ who have
kept company so long with Agamemnon, the king of
men, shall I shrink from a contest with such a puny
race ? ’ But after all,” said Mr. Mackenzie, returning to
his subject, “ Dr. Johnson was perhaps right when he
said of us that every man had a taste, and no man a
bellyful.”
‘ “ And yet you will allow that there are many ex-
ceptions to the last part of the rule, sir ? ” said Miss Baillie,
a very pretty woman with a very broad Scotch accent.
“ Mr. Adam Smith-------”
‘“Yes, ma’am,” Mr. Mackenzie interrupted with a
warmth he seldom discovered, “Mr. Smith was an excep-THE LAST LAYS OF ADAM SMITH
167
tion. He had twice Dr. Johnson’s learning—who only
knew one language well, the Latin—though he had none
of his affectation of it. He was one of the mildest and
most amiable of men, a good son, an affectionate brother,
and a sincere friend. The last time we met was at a
club which was held every Sunday evening at his own
house.—I had once the pleasure to see you there, sir.1—
He was very cheerful, but we persuaded him not to sup
with us, and he said, about half-past nine, as he left the
room : ‘ I love your company, gentlemen, but I believe I
must leave you—to go to another world.’ He died a
few hours after. Before I came that evening he had
burnt, with the assistance of Dr. Black, sixteen volumes
in manuscript on Jurisprudence—the sum of one course of
his Lectures at Glasgow, as was the ‘ Wealth of Nations ’
of another; but these had not received his last correc-
tions, and from what he had seen he had formed a mean
opinion of posthumous publications in general. With a
most retentive memory his conversation was solid beyond
that of any man. I have often told him after lialf-an-
hour’s conversation—‘ Sir, you have said enough to make
a book.’ Dr. Blair by these means introduced many of
Adam Smith’s thoughts on Jurisprudence into his lec-
tures, but when I told him of it—He is very welcome,’
said he, ‘ there is enough left.’ ”
* I enquired after his old servant.
‘ Mr. Mackenzie : “ He was provided with a place in
the Custom House at the request of everybody. Mr.
Smith left the bulk of his fortune to his nephew, a very
clever young man. But perhaps the Scotch cannot
1 See Rogers’s visit to Edinburgh, p. 96.168
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
claim him entirely, for he received part of his education
at Oxford.”
‘ During this conversation came Dr. Cadogan, Mr.
Jerningham, Dr. Baillie, and Cadell with his daughter.
Tea now walked in, and drew a disquisition on its merits
from Dr. Cadogan. Dr. Johnson’s immoderate love of
it was mentioned, and the remark brought him again
upon the carpet. Lord Monboddo’s contempt of his
Dictionary was mentioned. Mr. Seward (who now intro-
duced Mr. Merry, a very genteel, handsome man) said
he had silenced him with quoting James Harris’s high
opinion of it, and that when somebody had given John-
son a list of its imperfections—“Are those all?” said
he; “I thought there had been a thousand more.” Mr.
Mackenzie said Johnson’s greatest fault was in rejecting
every word from the Saxon.
‘ As the tea went round the sugar suggested the slave
trade and the late debate.
‘ Dr. Cadogan thought it the most disgraceful evening
ever spent by the House of Commons.
‘ Mr. Mackenzie thought the immediate abolition
dangerous in its consequences in the islands. So did
Dr. Baillie and Mr. Cadell. Mr. Cadell said a whole
people was not chargeable with any solitary acts of
cruelty, and instanced a late case of a chimney-sweeper’s
apprentice.
‘ Mr. Mackenzie : “ You should consider not the act
itself, but its impression on the minds of the people.
An English mob would, I doubt not, massacre the
chimney-sweeper in a moment; but I fear the Jamaica
people view barbarity with unconcern.”LITERARY TALK AT MISS WILLIAMS'S
169
‘ Mr. Merry said lie believed it indeed, and lie blushed
for liis country.
‘ The company then rose up to read a small poem of
Mr. Day’s, of which Mr. Seward proposed an emendation—
‘ Turns on liis hunters and then valiant falls.
‘ There were different opinions ; and different groups
were formed. Mr. Jerningham asked me concerning the
fate of Mr. Merry’s play. I fear, said he, that his style
is too artificial for tragedy.
£ In another place stood Dr. Moore, Mr. Merry, and
Cadell on Boswell and Johnson and Piozzi; and in
another stood Seward and Mackenzie and Dr. Kippis in
judgment on the poem. Mr. Mackenzie said that Ptobert
Burns had lately written a beautiful poem in Scotch,
called the “ Kirk of Alloa.” 1 It fell flat towards the
conclusion.
£ Mr. Mackenzie : ££ The same young man who wrote
the German tragedy mentioned in the Edinburgh Trans-
actions, has since published another, full of uncommon
merit and more regular, the last scene particularly
striking. A nobleman’s son in love with a musician’s
daughter is induced by his father, who is an enemy to
the match, to think her false, and in a frenzy he stabs
her. Her innocence then appears, and he stabs his
father and himself. The German works appear to great
disadvantage here, as they are translated from the French
only, which is very bad, the translators gliding over
every difficulty. I have learnt a little German since that
1 This is ‘ Tam o’ Shanter.’ It was written for Captain Grose in
return for a drawing of Alloway Kirk, and published in Grose’s
Antiquities of Scotland.170
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
paper of mine appeared, and I am now struck with their
tragedies particularly, though the unities are not ob-
served.”
‘ I said, only one of those was of consequence—unity
of character.
‘ Mr. Mackenzie : “ Mr. Smith wrote a charming piece
on that subject in a periodical paper at Glasgow, in
which Lord Loughborough engaged, but which was soon
dropt, the parties being discovered.”
‘ Mr. Jerningham inquired after Dr. Beattie.
‘ Mr. Mackenzie said his spirits were naturally low,
and were now still lower from family affliction, the con-
finement of his wife, and the death of his son. He then
adverted to Lord Monboddo. He is a friend of the slave
trade because the ancients encouraged it. He bathes
every morning in a cold and a hot bath, and afterwards
anoints himself because they did so.
‘ “ Aye,” said Mr. Seward, “Iremember that circum-
stance drew a pun from Johnson, notwithstanding his
aversion to puns. ‘ That man of Grease,’ said he. I
laughed at it, and he affected to be angry, and said he
did not intend a pun.”
‘ Mr. Mackenzie : “ When I congratulated him (Lord
Monboddo) on his recovery from a fever, he assured me
it was not one of your modern nervous fevers but a true
Roman fever, a burning fever. He complains that the
present race have no voice now he grows deaf and often
desires the barristers to speak up.”
‘ Mr. Seward: “ He is come to town partly to buy an
ourang-outang, that he may take him to Edinburgh and
teach him to talk and think.”LITERARY TALK AT MISS WILLIAMS'S
171
*	Mr. Mackenzie : “ He has been often imposed upon
with baboons which have passed for that species, particu-
larly with one which had been taught to walk with a
stick and was afterwards shown in Edinburgh.”
*	I observed that Lord Monbodclo had that day se’en-
night asserted that no man in the House of Commons
could make or deliver a period but Mr. Pitt, and no man
recite Milton but the Lord Chancellor.
‘Dr. Kippis: “He is a great enemy to short sen-
tences, but he is wrong in his notion of the sentence of
the ancients.”
‘Mr. Mackenzie: “His admiration of Milton is now
so high, that he begins to think it unintelligible to the
vulgar. He once set Macklin to read it, but found so
much fault with him, that he threw the book to his
lordship saying : ‘ Do read it yourself.’ He admires Mrs.
Siddons, but does not think she does justice to Milton.
He once saw her act the lady in Comus.”
‘ The circle now contracted to Mr. Jerningham, Mr.
Merry, Mr. Seward, Dr. Moore, the ladies, and myself.
‘ Mr. Merry said he should pass the summer in France
and that he knew Madame de Condorcet. Asked me if
I had ever played at a kind of question and answer at
her house with the Abbe Sieyes. Mentioned also another
game similar to our blind man’s buff. He said Con-
dorcet’s house was charmingly seated on the Seine, of
which I knew nothing, as I had paid my visits there at
night.
‘ Mr. Jerningham asked me doubtingly if Paris was
quiet.
‘ Mr. Merry said he had walked at midnight to his172
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
lodgings from the Palais Royal frequently with no
alarm.
‘ I said I admired Madame de Condorcet, and that if
I left England again it would be with Sir Charles Gran-
dison’s resolution to form no attachment.
‘ Mr. Merry: “ Sir Charles is translated into Italian and
universally laughed at by the Italian ladies, among whom
there are no Clementinas. Sir Charles wore a wig, and
the coach and six are continually coming in. Do you
remember Sir Charles’s wig ? Lovelace’s wig fell off in a
most affecting situation. Wig-stealing was once a very
lucrative profession, when wigs sold for fifty pounds
apiece. Many a man has had his wig snatched off,
when he put his head out of the coach window to
speak to his coachman.”
‘ Mr. Jerningham said Richardson was ridiculed at
Florence when he was there.
* Dr. Moore mentioned Voltaire’s contempt of Clarissa
who thought Tomlinson and—which was the good char-
acter ?	“ Lovelace,” said Merry—a laugh.
‘ Miss Williams said that Mrs. Siddons read Clarissa
at Streatham last autumn for the first time, and was
much struck with it.
‘ Mr. Merry asked if she felt on the stage. I said she
had assured me she did.
‘ Dr. Moore : “ It is impossible. Good acting requires
a cool judgment and a clear memory. It is not acting
your own part but another’s. What a burden must
so many different characters he to the memory ! Yet
an old actor will forget his lesson of last night, and
learn another for this evening, as easily as you canLITERARY TALK AT MISS WILLIAMS’S
173
change your clothes. What is very singular, they never
want more than their part of the dialogue.”
‘ The conversation now turned upon feeling.
‘ Dr. Moore : “ We are struck differently by the same
thing. ‘ I remember,’ says Rousseau, 4 a fine picture by Le
Sueur—the subject, Alexander drinking the physic pre-
scribed by Philip, at the same time that he puts a letter
into that physician’s hand, a letter which accuses him of
an intention to poison him. Everybody was struck with
the piece, but particularly a boy who shuddered at the
sight. Upon being questioned concerning the reason, he
said it was to think that he could drink so black a dose.”
‘Mr. Jerningham took his leave, and it was observed
that he was aristocratic, though one of his brothers who
lived at Naples has been obliged to leave it on account
of the freedom of his language.
‘ Mr. Seward : “ Mrs. Montagu, too, is an aristocrat
and a friend to the slave trade. But I suspect her of
art. She has often diverted me with instances of Dr.
Price’s simplicity.”
‘ I said Mrs. Montagu was a composition of art.
She has so long been attached to the trick and show of
life, as Mrs. Piozzi expressed it of her, that she has no
taste for the simplicity of a great mind. The genuine
soul of nature has forsaken her.1
1 This was not the general opinion respecting Mrs. Montagu,
though it is a most striking circumstance that two observers like
Mackenzie and Bogers should have agreed in it. Lord Bath, as we learn
from a note of Croker’s, said of Mrs. Montagu that he did not believe a
more perfect human being was ever created. Sir Joshua Reynolds
repeated the words to Burke with the observation that Lord Bath could
not have said more. ‘ And I do not think that he said a word too much,’174
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
‘ “ What a beautiful expression is that of Paine ! ”
said Mr. Merry; and the next—“ His hero or his heroine
must he a tragedy victim,” &c.—and again “We have
dropped our baby-clothes and breeched ourselves in
manhood.” He seemed a warm admirer of Paine.
‘ On the feeling of actors Mr. Seward observed that
Garrick affected to feel his part deeply, and that one
night when Johnson spoke loud between the scenes,
Garrick, who was acting Richard, cried out, “ Don’t talk
so loud, you disturb my feelings ! ” “ Pooh ! ” said John-
son, “ can Ponch[as he pronounced it always] feel ? ” ’
The Mr. Seward mentioned in the above conversa-
tion was not the Rev. Mr. Seward of Lichfield, the father
of Miss Seward the poetess, a man whom Johnson
described as having the ambition to be a fine talker, and
as going to Buxton and such places where he might find
companies to listen to him. It was Mr. William Seward,
F.R.S., of whom Johnson had spoken in a letter to Bos-
well in 1777 as a great favourite at Streatliam, who
had edited a book entitled “ Anecdotes of Distinguished
Persons.’ Boswell acknowledges indebtedness to him for
several communications concerning Johnson. He was
forty-four at the time of the above conversation, and
died eight years later, in 1799. Robert Merry is chiefly
remembered as one of the writers attacked by Gifford in
the ‘ Baviad ’ and the ‘ Mseviad.’ He was the Della
Crusca of Gifford’s preface. He had been educated at
was Burke’s reply. Rogers knew Mrs. Montagu in her old age. She
was more than seventy when this conversation at Miss Williams’s took
place, and she died in 1800 at the age of eighty.THE DELLA CKUSCANS
175
Harrow and Christ’s College, Cambridge; had studied
for the bar, and then joined the army as an officer in the
Guards. Having gone to Florence, where a group of
British poetasters were writing poems to one another in
the Florence Miscellany, he entered into the scheme, and
on his return to England became one of the leaders of a
school. With curious appropriateness they took their
name from the Della Cruscan Academy in Florence—a
Society formed in 1582 to winnow the chaff from the
Italian language and leave the pure wheat behind. The
English Della Cruscans were chaff without grain, bran
with the least possible admixture of flour: the mere
refuse the signature Della Crusca implied. Yet, for a
moment they met the public taste. Macaulay, in his
‘ Essay on Byron,’ speaks of them as signs that a literary
revolution was at hand—‘ There was a ferment ’—he
tells us—‘ in the minds of men, a vague craving for
something new, a disposition to hail with delight any-
thing that might at first sight wear the appearance of
originality.’ Hence the temporary success of writers
now utterly forgotten—‘ anything which could break the
dull monotony of the correct school was acceptable.’
‘ Macpherson and Della Crusca were to the true re-
formers of English poetry what Knipperdoling wTas to
Luther or Clootz to Turgot.’ 1 The Della Cruscans were
the Spasmodics of their time. Gifford in the ‘ Baviad ’
speaks of £ Merry’s Moorfields2 * whine,’ and rhymes it with
‘ Greathead’s idiot line.’ In the 4 Mseviad ’ he writes -—
1	Essays, vol. ii., pp. 334,
335-
2	The great Bethlehem Hospital—the Bedlam of popular tradition—
stood in Moorfields.176
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
while Merry and his nurselings die,
Thrill’d with the liquid peril of an eye ;
Gasp at a recollection, and drop down,
At the long streamy lightning of a frown.
Mr. Jerningham’s criticism of Merry’s play that his
style was too artificial for tragedy was the gentle view
of one of his friends. Mr. Jerningham was himself one
of the Della Cruscans. Gifford writes :—
See snivelling Jerningham at fifty weep
O’er lovelorn oxen and deserted sheep,
and speaks of him as ‘ a gentleman with the pliysio-
gnomie d’un monton qui reve.’ He pours worse con-
tempt on Este and Topliam, the parson and captain who
between them edited The World and who were literary
arbiters in the days when Gifford was beating pieces
of leather smooth, and working problems on them with
a blunted awl. Rogers used to say that he felt great
pleasure when told that Este had said of him : ‘A child
of Goldsmith, sir; ’ and that, as reader at Whitehall,
Este read the service so beautifully that Mrs. Siddons
used to goto the Chapel Royal to listen to his elocution.
Gifford’s lash fell on this school in 1794 and 1796, and
scattered it to the winds. Merry went to America, and
Este died insane.
Rogers was now in his twenty-eighth year, and was
quietly at work in most of his leisure hours polishing
his second poem to perfection. Yet his life seems to have
been so full of business, visiting, and travel, that there was
little space left for serious work. His health was still
weak, and he was advised to take exercise on horseback.THROUGH BERKS TO CIRENCESTER
177
During the early summer of this year, 1791, he made a
journey in this fashion through a great part of Wales.
His quick observation and retentive memory have en-
abled him to hand down some valuable sketches of
South Wales as it was in the da}7s of our great-grand-
fathers.
The diary of this journey is broken into two parts,
the first extending from the 17th to the 30th of June,
and the second from the 19th to the 22nd of July. The
volume containing the intervening period has probably
been lost. The entries chiefly consist of descriptions of
the scenery ; but there are now and then glimpses of
contemporary manners and of passing events. He
begins by noting the solitude of the London streets at
four in the morning, which was the hour of starting,
and anticipates a common remark of travellers in these
days of railways, by saying that the rapidity of a stage-
coach allows no time for observation, so that the archi-
tecture of an Adam or the statuary of a Darner, Sion
Gate, and the Keystone of Henley Bridge, were equally
unnoticed. He says that Abingdon market-place, and
Fairford church, where he probably stopped to see the
windows, left pleasing traces on his memory. ‘ In the
evening walked in the classic park of Lord Bathurst.’
The day’s stage seems therefore to have been from
London, by way of Henley and Abingdon, to Cirencester.
The next day he ‘ rode with the keeper through Lord
Bathurst's woods and saw a favourite seat of Pope,’
and then on to Birdlip Hill, from which the counties
of Worcester, Hereford, and Gloucester ‘spread like a
carpet beneath ’ him. Thence through a delicious country
N178
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
to Boss, finding there a very agreeable and intelligent
apothecary, Mr. Pope, and sleeping in the house of the
‘ Man of Boss.’ The diary next day records a row upon
the river.
* 19th.—Left Boss at ten in a small boat with two
oars. The church hells chimed most musically, and the
sound came floating among the hills down the river
long after the spire had disappeared. Passed under the
bridge, and in a few minutes saw Wilton Castle just
above us on a green bank on the left, its round tower
and grated window mantled with ivy. These ruins
have no majesty, but they are very soothing, and strike
the mind as a first object. A little line of cottages lies
below them—the village of Wilton. Glided down the
stream under a sedgy shore on the right, the left fringed
with willows, and on the surface of the water floated
white flowers, here called greeds. . . . Boss spire con-
tinually sinks and rises to the eye of the voyager, and the
river, having formed a noble curve, now returns almost
up to it. A walk from the churchyard, called Kyrle’s
Walk, runs down to a summer-house which here over-
looks the river. A very steep and rich eminence, inter-
sected with hedgerows, among which are several cottages
and a little farmhouse called Weir-end, with its appen-
dages—a barn, a poultry-yard, and a haystack—now
presents itself, but soon sinks to the left, and is succeeded
by the humble village of Groson, a cluster of thatched
huts by the waterside, with their hanging gardens and
a succession of green enclosures ascending rapidly above
them. Before the most conspicuous of these huts layDOWN THE WYE
179
several loose and newly-felled trunks of trees, and a
vessel lay moored near the spot. The boatman dignified
it with the name of a timber-yard. So far the scene had
never risen above the simple and humble style of pastoral
beauty, but its character soon changed. In front, and
sweeping round to the right, a superb amphitheatre of
wood and pasture unfolded; the Friary, a little farm
half discovering itself near the summit; and on the
left, near the base, Goodrich Castle, with its towers and
battlements, gave a glimpse of the grandeur which soon
burst upon us. . . . Landed at the ferry, and, crossing
a meadow, ascended through a glade of ancient elms to
the ruin. The portcullises, the pointed windows, the
round towers were hung with large masses of ivy. The
structure in its present state is very extensive. Elm and
ash trees of considerable height have taken possession of
its internal courts. The daws were very clamorous at
our intrusion, and a white owl fluttered from the frac-
tured mouldings of a window. The view from it in front
is very rich and extensive. Directly in front, and not
above two miles off is Boss spire, with the Chase, a long
woody ridge, in the background. Behind are hanging
meadows. Eeturned to the boat. In our course we
continually passed the fisher, with his wicker basket on
his back, angling for salmon-fry and grayling knee-deep
in the water. The left bank, which had as yet been low,
became now very steep, with cottages perched one above
another, half sheltered with wood, and often discovered
only by the blue wreaths of smoke that ascended from
them. One of the most observable was a basketmaker’s.
In his little garden, which was almost a precipice, hung180
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
linen to dry on a line, and his threshold was strewed
with heaps of rushes in the sun. Everything wore the
face of cheerful industry. Passed a fisherman’s hut,
which had a very fresco appearance behind a clump of
trees. A brown pitcher had been left on the landing-
place, and against the bank rested a coracle, a small
leathern boat. The man mentioned by Gilpin, who
navigated the Wye and reached the Bristol Channel in
one of these vessels was Luke Hughes. Near Bristol, a
mile beyond the river’s mouth, he was hailed by the
king’s yacht stationed there, the crew thinking that he
floated on a cask. He went on board, and was made
welcome, but returned to his nutshell. From either
hand shoots up a high promontory. On the left is a
chain of orchards, the apple-trees twisting into a thou-
sand forms, with beautiful cows grazing on the shore.
Pass on the right the coal wharf at Lidbrook, a busy
scene, but properly softened down by the woods that
nearly envelop it. On the left in a meadow a plain old
house called Courtfield. On this spot Henry Y. is said
to have been nursed. An ancestor of Mr. Vaughan, to
whom it now belongs, kept the ferry-boat at Goodrich,
and when Henry IY. came disguised on his way to
Monmouth, where the Queen lay in, he first learnt from
the ferryman the birth of his son Henry, and was invited
by him with honest exultation to drink at the alehouse
kept there. The king gave him this estate. This is the
boatman’s tale. The little church of Welsh Bicknor to
which Henry IY. gave gold communion plate, rose now
by the green hillside, with yews in its churchyard and
the parsonage built of grey stone close by it. Bed andDOWN THE WYE
181
blue cornflowers fringed the opposite bank. It was a
scene of great simplicity. A succession of cottages on
the left, with their orchards grazed by horses, several of
which were standing in different groups in the water;
the water wagtail running and flying along the shelving
rocks on the right. A blue volume of smoke now spread
itself over the pointed wood which announced Cold-
well Eocks. . . . Here we came to anchor, and the boat-
men drawing water from a fine spring on the bank, which
gives the name to this part of the river, I dined in full
view of this charming perspective. While they were at
their repast I wandered half a mile along the river,
till I came directly opposite the rocks. Cottages and
orchards were hanging near their bases; in the centre
was a lime-kiln, into which the sheep had retreated from
the sun, and not a single sound was heard but the tin-
kling of the wether’s bell, when I was roused from a
delightful reverie by the appearance of one of the boat-
men, who immediately hallooed to his comrades, who
were dispersed in pursuit of me. The echo among the
old woods gave immediate life to the scene. Be-
embarked, and wound round these majestic rocks. Others
soon towered above the wood on the left, less bold, but
correspondent. The village on the right is called Cold-
nose, the sun seldom shining upon it. . . Landed here
on the opposite side, and half a mile from the spring,
and was conducted by a woman who showed me her
orchard, garden, and cottage, in which was a poor soli-
tary jay in a wicker basket up the rocks. She lived by
spinning, brewed and baked for herself, made her own
cider, and kept only a few ducks. Said the cottagers on182
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
each side often ferried over to visit one another, that
winter was very dreary, but the boats which passed in
summer were a great amusement to them. Attended by
a little nephew and two girls she led me up a winding
path to the green summit of a projecting rock called
Symond’s Yat, which commanded a cluster of wooded
hills in the foreground, the distant and whimsical wind-
ings of the Wye and a wide stretch of cultivated country
fading away in the blue and purple tints of distance.
Directly before us was an immense hill, round which the
Wye made a circuit of above three miles. Descended,
and embarked at the New Weir, an iron forge, where
the rocks on each side tower to an immense height, often
in very grotesque forms. Here the river makes a con-
siderable fall, and we descend by a lock. This scenery
continued about a mile, with nearly the grandeur of
Matlock and the solitude of Dovedale. Passed a small
house, the greatest fishery on the river, with a long shed
to hang the coracles in, and several barked trunks, on
which the nets are spread. The coracles go down the
river two at a time, one on each side, drawing the net
along to sweep the river. These pairs succeed each
other every ten minutes. The Dean Forest still hung
on our right, and we now came to what is called
Slaughterhouse Stream, the deer, many head of which
are still in the Forest, having been formerly shot here by
the bowmen as they came down to drink. The rocks
continued like ruined towers mantled with ivy and brush-
wood, till at St. Martin’s Pool, where was the deepest water
in our course, they died away. . . Threaded several reefs
that raised a surf in the river, and shot rapidly by DixonMONMOUTH TO COWBBIDGE
183
Church, a humble and solitary white building on the left
shore. A magnificent wood now rose in front and seemed
to preclude all further progress. As we advanced it with-
drew to the right, and on the left rose Monmouth spire.
The bridge and the town above it appeared soon after-
wards, and at six in the evening we concluded the
voyage.’
The next day he records a ride to Raglan, £ a beg-
garly village,’ with a neat inn ; a visit to the Castle, ‘ a
most noble ruin; ’ and on to Usk, where there was a
village fair. Continuing his ride he describes the view
of the Bristol Channel with the Steep and Flat Holms
and here and there a sail. At Newport—which he de-
scribes as £ a neat town on the side of a hill, the church,
like most others near the coast, a conspicuous landmark ’
—he £ saw several boats waiting to catch the coal at low
water which is washed in flakes from the mountains.’
This was the coal trade of Newport in 1791. The jour-
ney continues over the hills and through the marsh to
Cardiff, where he walks round the Castle with £ a sensible
little fellow, my landlord’s son at the ££ Cardiff Arms.”
Next day to Llandaff, with its ruined Cathedral, £ part of
it included in the modern Cathedral, a strange medley of
Grecian and Gothic.’ Then on to Caerphilly Castle, £ less
picturesque and less perfect than Raglan, but with more
traces of magnificence and on an infinitely larger scale ; ’
and thence along the banks of the Taff and over the hills
to Cowbridge. On the way—
£ On Newbridge Hill was overtaken by two good-
natured, pleasant men on one horse, who had come from184
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
a large foundry twelve miles from Pontypridd—or bridge
built of the earth—and who accompanied me to Cow-
bridge. From them I learnt several anecdotes. The Welsh
are a very joyous social people. At weddings they often
muster friends and relations to the number of fifty on
horseback; and often make what is called ‘ a bidding.’
Each gives a crown, or some trifle, to the newly-married
couple, and the sum has amounted to one hundred pounds.
When a family are in distress there is very often ‘ a pye.’
The good woman of the house makes a great many pies
and on a Sundav a considerable number will meet and
tJ
dine and dance and afterwards make her a present. The
relator of this story had often been of the party. At
weddings the bagpipe is often played, as in Scotland,
and at funerals the church singers always lead the pro-
cession with a psalm. The women here wear black
beaver hats, gowns of blue or blue-and-red check, which
descend to the knee, and a blue or black petticoat. The
men and boys also wear a jacket and often trousers of
check. About Cardigan the women wear wooden shoes.
The sudden drop they make in curtseying and the familiar
nod are very diverting. From Easter to Whitsuntide
the peasantry dance every Saturday night. The clergy-
man frequently translates his text into Welsh. . . .
Curacies are about 30/. or 25l. per annum here.’
The journal of the next two days records the con-
tinuation of the ride to Swansea and Carmarthen, sum-
marised in a letter to his father.SWANSEA IN 1791
185
S. Rogers to his Father.
‘ Saturday, June 25th,
‘ [Postmark] 1791.
‘ Dear Sir,-—I received your kind letter to-day, as
well as Martha’s enclosing a very long and entertaining
one from Mrs. Piozzi. She says an account of her little
fete will overtake me in the newspapers before I reach
Monmouth, hut I have not seen it in any of them. All
I learn from them is that Mr. Sergeant Bond has with-
drawal his name from the list of stewards. I wrote to
you from Pill. Margam next morning gave me great
pleasure, but the orangery is in decay, and the view
along the sea-coast rather dreary. At Neath, which is
most charmingly situated, there w7as a fair. I dined with
the farmers—as I had done the day before wTith the col-
lectors of excise at Bridgend—and there met w7ith a
gentlemanlike, sensible young man, an attorney from
Swansea. He offered to ride over with me, and as I
found him to be a man of good character I accepted
this offer. He offered also to go with me to the ball at
Swansea in the evening, and through him I danced with
the surgeon’s wife, a very pretty woman about tw7enty,
who has just left the Quakers. The harp was the prin-
cipal instrument. My sisters will smile to hear that I
have been kicking my heels at a Welsh Assembly.
‘ Sir Herbert Mackw’orth’s house at Neath commands
a very beautiful stretch of country, but just before his
parlour windows he has erected a steam- engine and large
copper-works. They are actually on the lawn before his
house, but if they are a source of profit he may think them186
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
the finest objects which it commands. Yesterday I had a
most delicious ride of twenty-five miles to Llandilo, where
I saw the ruins of Carreg Cennin, an impregnable fortress,
and the fairy scenes round Dynevor Castle. I find that
Mr. Eice, the member for the county and owner of this
enchanting spot, is brother-in-law to Mr. M. Dorrien.1
* To-day I made a pilgrimage to the top of Grongar
Hill,2 but a mizzling rain came on before I had reached
it. I rode through the delightful Yale of Towy to Car-
marthen, which was crowded with market people. Welsh
is everywhere the current language, and it is curious to
hear children that have just left the cradle conversing in
sounds that are as unintelligible to me as the Sphinx’s
enigma. I am now on my way to Tenby, where I shall
stop to-morrow. . . .’
‘ Sunday, 26th June.
‘ To-night I mean to sleep at Tenby, to-morrow at
Haverfordwest, Tuesday at St. David’s, Wednesday at
Cardigan, Thursday at Aberystwith, Friday at Dolgelly,
and Saturday at Carnarvon—at which last town I hope
to find a letter from the Green, at farthest, but flatter
myself I shall hear sooner. The weather is now cold and
blustering, which, I find, agrees best with me. The hot
days have prevented my making any progress. Pray
give my love to all, and believe me to be, dear Sir,
‘ Your dutiful and affectionate son,
‘ Saml. Bogers.’
The account in the diary of Neath fair and the
1	The banker in Finch Lane, Lombard Street.
2	Made classic ground by John Dyer’s poem, published in 1726.A FAIR AT NEATH
187
farmer’s dinner, gives further glimpses of South Wales
in the days of our great-grandfathers :—
‘ In one street were numbers of farmers, &c., cantering
and trotting and walking horses of every size and colour
to attract the notice of those who came to buy; in another
wTas the trumpet sounding for the puppet-show, with bas-
kets of gingerbread, &c., carried by rosy-clieeked girls. In
another street were booths for gloves and hats and every
article of dress. Here stood an old woman with a roll
of flannel under her arms, the product of her spinning
wheel, and there were baskets of fleece and goose-wings
in abundance. The concert of voices in the Welsh lan-
guage was very diverting. I think it more sonorous and
grand than the Erse. Heard a man thunder at his cow,
and thought it had a very philippic air. Every woman
wore the black hat and flannel check, which lasts three
or four years in constant wear washed in cold water with
but little soap.’
The dinner was with seven or eight farmers, and
their talk is briefly recorded :—
‘ Lambs destroyed by bad land in half an hour,
thin soil never to be tilled, fern strewed in a farm-
yard the best manure—these were the principal topics.
Duels also had their turn, owing to a late fray at
Swansea between two farmers. A lusty man had affronted
a thin one, who challenged him. “ No,” said he, “ I
am too broad a mark, it will be unfair.” “ Then,” said
the thin one, “ I will stand close to you, and my size
shall be chalked on your body, and if I don’t hit
within the line it shall go for nothing.” ’188
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
He speaks of the country on the way to Swansea as
even then ‘ deformed with forges.’ At Swansea the
dance was at the Mackworth Arms, and the sensible
attorney's name is given in the diary as Mr. Mansfield,
and the pretty wife of the surgeon is Mrs. Seycombe,
described as ‘ a most beautiful woman.’ At Carreg
Cennin Castle, ‘ a ruined citadel, the Gibraltar of former
times,’ a story was told him illustrative of the popular
superstitions of the time. The young man who con-
ducted him over the ruins led him—
‘ back to a cottage at the foot of a rock, from which he had
borrowed a lantern to explore the well. At the door we saw
one old woman, who looked like a “poster of the sea and
land. ’ ’ I walked in, and pointing to a human form which sat
in the chimney of a dark room he said, in a low voice, that
it was that woman who sixteen years ago lost her sight the
instant she looked on some old pieces of coin which she
discovered at the Castle ; that she was driving the horses
of a plough when the coins were turned up, and that the
man who guided it and who pillaged great part of them
and took them to a Jew at Swansea to melt shared the
same fate. He added with great seriousness that his
father and grandfather had told him that several other
instances of the same nature had occurred near the
Castle. . . . Near Carreg Cennin is a cavern, called in
Welsh the “ Eyes of the River Loughor,” branching into
innumerable others, which branch some over some under
the river which issues quietly into day, but within dashes
along with the noise of thunder. Is not this Merlin’s
cave in the “ Faery Queen ? ” ’TENBY IN I79i
189
At Carmarthen it was market day, the streets and
roads were crowded, and some of the women on the road
were walking barefooted with their shoes in their hands,
others moved briskly along knitting as they went. He
slept that night at Tavern Spite, a neat house on a furzy
heath, and continued his journey in the morning, going
to church on the way, as it was Sunday, and hearing there
a good sermon. The church was hung round with flowers.
Tenby was reached in the afternoon, and his description of
it as it was in 1791 is worth quoting in his own words:—
‘ The church and village of Tenby are situated on a
low cliff, hung with ivy and other vegetable tints. On
the left the shore is high and rocky, and a distant reach
of land projects into the sea beyond it, though not equal
in grandeur to the mountainous shore on the left of
Swansea. On the right, seated on a small but lofty
promontory which is united by a narrow isthmus to the
shore, are the ruins of a castle, half mantled with ivy.
This promontory forms a beautiful bay. Beyond it,
still farther to the right, within two hundred yards is an
insulated rock, tufted with herbage, on which are the ruins
of a house and where hung a few goats. The rock is of
rich gamboge colour, and through it the waves have per-
forated a small archway. Half a league beyond this,
still farther to the right behind the town, is Caldy Island
with a farmhouse on it, but with no trees. The vessels
in the harbour and the offing gave cheerfulness to the
scene. Walked to the Castle and saw a clergyman draw-
ing the insulated rock with a camera; a boat was rowing
under it; on the extreme point of the promontory is a190
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
lofty single tower from which the sailors were looking out.
Walked by a little path to the cliffs on the opposite shore
(the fashionable walk) and also on the sands. The scene
beautiful in every point of view, the church spire rising
nearly in the centre, and drawing the village to an apex.
From the little bypath which connects the front cliff with
the left is perhaps the best view . . . Tenby was once
very strong. The walls that guarded the two sides next
the sea are now nearly demolished, but sufficient vestiges
are left to trace them. On the two sides next the land
it is guarded by a high wall in perfect preservation, with
strong round and square towers at a small distance from
each other, richly hung in many parts with ivy . . .
Walked again to the Castle; the clergyman was still em-
ployed on his sketch. In the strait below lay some
boatmen on their oars, and along the perpendicular sides
of the rock two sea boys of then’ party were chasing for
diversion where I would not have stood for fifty worlds.’
The day at Tenby did not include a visit to Giltar
rocks; and on the next day Rogers resumed his journey
over the Ridgeway to Pembroke. Thence the way lay
through shady green lanes to the ferry across Milford
Haven, on which magnificent sheet of water, ‘ blue as ultra-
marine,’ he notes ships in full sail in different directions
before the wind. On to Haverfordwest—‘ the largest town
I have yet seen in Wales, with the dirt and gloom of a
large town,’ and thence on towards St. David’s. On the
way he ‘ was surprised to meet a lady with a veil, and a
pretty woman, with an air of some elegance washing linen
in a rivulet with her bare feet, though only two hovelsST. DAVID’S AND CARDIGAN
191
were in sight.’ He describes St. David's as a poor village.
‘ Except two or three neat little houses belonging to the
clergy of the Cathedral, no house habitable by civilised
beings.’ He had to put up at a hovel of an inn, ‘ the
canon residentiary, Mr. Holcombe, whose hospitable
genius has raised a caravanserai in the desert, and whose
musical and elegant family gave an air of enchantment
to the reception of the desolate traveller, being now in
London.’ Biding next day through the cornfields the
larks were so numerous that ‘ every stalk and ear of
corn seemed full of melody. Never in my life was I so
struck with their music. It was above, below, and
around.’ On the way to Cardigan is the Castle of Cil-
gerran, which was reached by a boat up the Towv river.
At the village near the Castle, which was solely inhabited
by fishermen, were several coracles. He measured one of
the smallest with his handkerchief. It was exactly the
breadth of the handkerchief but an inch more in length.
At one point of the voyage a fisherman came down with
his coracle on his back and his paddle in his hand, to go
out for the night. ‘ They suffer themselves to be carried
down by the tide, and when they wish to return paddle
ashore and walk home with their vessels on their backs.’
Next day he was ‘ stopt by the rain at three cottages, the
first best, the last worst but cheerful, with a colt neigh-
ing in one of its divisions, the second dark as night, a
spinning wheel in each.’ A little English wTas spoken
in one cottage, none in the other two. At a wayside
inn, called the ‘ New Inn ’—‘ was entertained by a sweet
little girl with some Welsh songs ; she had a very pleas-
ing voice and the tunes were equally so. They were of192
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
the cheerful kind. Her elder sister, a very modest,
reserved, pretty girl, told me that the harper from
Aberystwith often slept there in his musical peregrina-
tions through the country, and that they sat up the whole
night to listen to him.’ On arriving at Aberystwith itself
‘ in the hall of the inn a poor blind girl was playing on the
harp most exquisitely, such airs as made Gray put his
last hand to the unfinished ode of “ The Bard.”’
There are here eighteen days missing from the
journal, hut there is evidence that these were spent in
Central and Northern Wales. The journal opens again
on the 19th of July, when he is on the way out of
Herefordshire to Brecknock. He is up betimes, making
a ride of several miles before breakfast. One day he is
on horseback by six in the morning, the next at half-
past five, and the shades of evening are usually falling
when he concludes his day's wanderings. The journey
along the road from Leominster to Brecknock is, at
first, ‘ through a succession of hop-grounds, orchards,
and villages,’ not particularly beautiful in themselves,
hut chiefly so ‘ from the ideas of cheerfulness and comfort
and plenty which were everywhere excited.’ Passing
the old hall of Kynnersley the road soon approaches
the Wye—
‘ Here we were presented,’ he says, ‘ with a striking
image of desolation, the wreck of a bridge. It had con-
sisted of several arches, and had been very elegant, but
fell in last spring, having had a had foundation. Three
of its arches were still standing on one side, hut all
further progress was abruptly broken off, and the riverFROM THE WYE TO THE USE
193
rushed triumphantly over the shattered pieces of the rest.
The toll-house on the other side, the lane that led from
it, and the sweeping approach all reminded us of the
communication which now existed no longer. The ferry-
boat was unfit for horses, and we were obliged to follow
at some distance the course of the river. We were soon
rewarded with a beautiful reach between woody banks,
and soon afterwards with another less woody but more
extensive and distinguished by the ruins of a castle on
a green eminence over the river. We had now ascended
to high ground, and presently saw before us a rich and
extensive valley, skirted by distant mountains and dis-
closing here and there a faint catch of the Wye in its
passage from Plinlimmon. Descended, and by a narrow
bridge entered The Hay, a long scattered town on its
banks, with very fine woody hills behind it. The old
village-like church hangs beautifully on a green knoll
over the river, which there makes a curve to meet it.
Above it is a forlorn castle, part of which is glazed and
tenanted. As we left The Hay the same chain of hills
with wood accompanied us on the left; and on the right
in a delicious valley wound the Wye, but seldom an
object of sight, though its banks were almost level with
its surface. Beyond it rose green and shady hills, with
hamlets and spires and scattered farms below them. At
the fourth stone the Wye made a bold turn to the right
and left us among the hills. . . . Nothing could be
more beautifully retired than the descent into Brecknock.
We wound between woody declivities, above which in
front rose the double tower of the Priory. On the right
rushed the little river Honddu over mossy fragments of
o191
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
rock. In the course of half a mile we came to a few
cottages and a water-mill, and presently we discovered a
rude stone arch. We then entered Brecknock. From
this bridge is the most enchanting view. The eye is car-
ried up the dell along the foaming current of the stream,
which is closely fringed with shrubwood and darkly
overhung with foliage of the freshest verdure, but of dif-
ferent shades. It appears to work its way through the
windings of a wood. On the left, loftily seated behind
the trees, is the Priory, a noble Gothic structure now
converted into a church.
‘ Ascended to the Priory and pursued a delightful
path along the edge of the woody precipice which over-
hangs the glen, the little torrent gleaming through the
trees below, and soothing the ear with the dash of its
waters. Here and there a humble hut stands solitarily
on the margin or hangs on the opposite declivity, with a
little cabbage garden running along a ledge of the rock,
and literally on a level with the ridge of its thatched
roof. As I proceeded the path descended gradually to-
wards the level of the river and the glen along which the
Leominster road had at first wound now contracted to
the breadth of its current. At a forge which is near a
mile from the Priory this beautiful scenery ended. In
a little shady cove, halfway down the precipice, and not
far beyond the Priory, a clear spring gushes out of the
rock and falling over a rude ledge hurries down to the
river. An oblique path through the fern and shrubwood
descends to it on each side. It is a favourite resort for
water. I could have passed hours here to observe the
children that descend almost every minute into thisTHE WELSH PEASANTRY IN 1791
195
beautiful recess. It was once, according to Homer, the
occupation of king’s daughters, and, as we are told with
a beautiful simplicity in Holy Writ, the charms of Rachel
suffered no diminution from it. That golden age is
gone ; but the visitors of a spring are still interesting to
a contemplative mind—the fair and ruddy complexions
of the country, with that simple and open expression
which is soon lost in the less retired walks of life, are to
me more interesting than the most beautiful scenery.
Their action always pleases and is generally graceful
because it is natural and unaffected. I have seen a
ragged shepherd boy, particularly near St. David’s, throw
himself down in an attitude that Raphael would not
have disdained to copy ; and I have often stopt, especially
between Bala and Berwyn, to admire the firm and
graceful step of a girl with a brown pitcher on her head.
A little beyond the bridge the Honddu enters the Usk,
which forms a semicircle round the ruins of a castle
which stands on a rock. Part of the round tower of the
citadel crowns the highest point; below on the other
side is the College, a small Gothic building belonging to
St. David’s ; part of it is employed as a school-room. As
I returned from the forge to the Priory had a beautiful
glimpse of the valley and mountains over the town.
From the Castle Hill commanded the whole valley, which
is nearly circular, and but small, rounded by green hills
011 three of its sides, and on the other, opening to the
Yale of Usk between the foldings of the mountains. The
evening was close and damp, with now and then a
drizzling rain.
‘ July 20.—Set off at half-past five—a pleasant grey196
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
morning—and immediately entered the Yale of Usk which
was at first mountainous, hut afterwards sank into culti-
vated uplands. On the right side ran a chain of moun-
tains, sometimes woody, sometimes richly cultivated.
Along the valley murmured the Usk in the sweetest
meadows through its fringed banks with little farms and
villas scattered around it. It was Nature in her neatest
attire. About the sixth stone ascended from the Yale
behind a high hill, looking down directly on the windings
of the river, and commanding a rich review of its progress
from Brecknock. At the summit were agreeably sur-
prised with the view of another valley with a small lake
(Langor's Pool) gleaming in the centre of it. As we
descended round the hill we passed Tretower Castle, with
its grey round tower and battlements, at the foot of a
hill, and there re-entered the Yale of Usk, the little river
winding close to the road which now ran along the
middle of the valley. The valley grew wider, and the
river still more rapid ; and considerable woods masked
the hills on the left. It wTas diversified with noble pro-
montories and insulated hills, cultivated to the very
summit. The road now regained the left side and
taking a higher direction wound along a green terrace
over the river—the banks of wdiicli wrere now indeed
sometimes exposed, but which ran in a noble stream.
We here passed a little bridge over a tributary stream,
that turned a mill as it entered the Usk, and soon came
to Crickliowell, a village deliciously seated on a gentle
eminence near the Usk, looking up and down the Vale
for some miles. Here^again are the remains of a
castle on the river, and though not very considerableTHE VALE OF USK
197
they have a beautiful yellow tint and are in good pre-
servation. The Yale soon afterwards contracted and
grew more woody and less cultivated as we entered
Monmouthshire, but a duskiness, arising perhaps from
the heat, spread itself over the scenes we had left. As
we approached Brecknock it opened on the right, and
on the left the hills were of great beauty, especially the
Sugar Loaf, which is cast perhaps in too correct a mould
for picturesqueness, but is cultivated almost to the very
summit, where it is green with shrubwood. The cheer-
ful little villages that were blended in beautiful confusion
along the sides of the opposite mountains, and the inces-
sant bursts of wood and cultivation which enriched them
continually, varied the scene. As we left Abergavenny—
its hills forming a grand screen on the left, and lofty
mountains hung with wood projecting into the Yale on the
right—a magnificent pass presented itself through which
we looked back towards Brecknock. Continued along
the Yale. On the left were the green swells of a park
belonging to Mr. Hanbury Williams, and on the right
ran the mountains finely clothed with wood. These,
however, soon shifted behind us, but the Usk still
accompanied us, not often visible indeed, between rich
uplands with little villages on its banks. At the sixth
stone it makes a sudden bend to the road and then,
taking its farewell both of eye and ear, it turns off to
the right between close woody declivities, and after a
pleasant journey of five miles arrives at Usk, where I
first found it. The scene soon closes on the right, but
a sweet valley, deficient only in water, unfolds itself on
the left, bounded by the Abergavenny hills, among198
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
which the Sugar Loaf lifts its pointed summit. The
views on each side are at last reduced to the compass
of a few fields, when Raglan Castle appears, with its
walls and towers at a small distance, but with no great
degree of elevation. The Yale of Usk extends from
Brecknock to Abergavenny, a tract twenty miles in
length. This is its first and finest part. It then turns
on the right eleven miles to Usk, and from thence to
Newport, ten miles, a tract of equal extent. The river
there loses itself in the sea. Dined at Raglan, and
afterwards stole a parting glance at the Castle, still
beautiful as ever, not magnificent as a distant object,
but in itself, when viewed at hand, the most pictur-
esque I ever saw. The deep pointed arch of the gateway,
half obscured by the network of ivy that hangs from
it, the rich Gothic workmanship of the windows and
abutments, the elegance of the banqueting-liall, these
still please and must ever please. Returned, as I went,
in haste, to the great and loud merriment of a party at
a cottage door, particularly an arch, black-eyed girl of
sixteen. Rode on high ground and had a succession of
the most beautiful views, little hills on each side melting
into most delicious valleys and falling into each other
with the most varied forms and with the softest swells.
Such a charming interchange of wood and valley,
meadow, corn and fallow ground, all in miniature, and
all in the most enchanting confusion is only equalled
between Monmouth and Raglan, and scarcely even there.
From several higher points we commanded in retrospect
an extensive valley bounded by a noble amphitheatre
of distant mountains.TINTERN ABBEY
199
‘ Left the turnpike road, and turning through a
farmer’s fields soon arrived at a very striking spot. On
the right was a deep glen, so deep that the tufted tops
of very high trees were far, very far, below me, and a
torrent rushed along through them with fury, hut was
not an object of sight. The wood on the opposite side
of it rose very majestically to a considerable height, and
on the left, directly above me was a woody declivity. As
I descended the depth decreased and cottages were seen
clinging to its sides. At last a forge appeared with its
gigantic hammers and its sheet of red flame, but the
wood around above and below it was as luxuriant as
ever. Down this glen, the sides of which folded over
each other in perspective very finely, I was let down
gradually among hanging cottages till a lofty wood
ascended in front with the Wye winding calmly round
it. On its green and level margin stands Tintern Abbey.
The church is built, as indeed all abbeys are, in the
form of a cross. The west window is entire, and its rich
framework is clear of ivy, but within is finely hung, and
ivy in large masses and with the freshest verdure hangs
everywhere over it. The arch of the south window,
which has lost its framework, is so deeply fringed with
ivy that it scarcely admits the light and the external
wall of the south aisle is entirely overspread with it.
Eoger de Montgomery, the founder, lies entombed there.
But a very small part of the cloisters is now to be traced.
Adjoining to what is called the Monk’s cell a poor
woman has furnished a melancholy apartment. The
vault and its tenant correspond with Mr. Gilpin’s
description, but are not the same. The woman he200
EARLY LIFE OE SAMUEL ROGERS
mentions died in the workhouse. A poor girl was weed-
ing the fragments on the green floor. The head of a
monk and the body of a virgin are scattered there
among mouldings and cornices. A little path leads
directly to the river, which is shut in on all sides by high
hanging woods. Ascended by a bye-path, taking leave
of this venerable ruin through the trees. Nothing can
be more imposing than the perspective through its aisles
when the west door is thrown open. Its outside is
almost wholly [hidden] by the cottages that surround it.
Ascended up a hanging wood, on the left was the rocky
bed of some winter torrent, and the path itself was little
better. It soon closed and the trees overarched it. It
was now near ten, and the gloom was awful. It was
here that I met a figure which I at first thought was an
ancient tenant of the abbey. It wore a flannel gown
which hung like a hood over the head. Not a lock of
hair appeared over a pallid but striking countenance. A
small black beaver hat was in one hand, and the other
held a staff. I asked with some degree of hesitation the
way to Chepstow, when it appeared to be an old woman.
My question drew an appeal to my charity. She was
returning home from the surgeon with a strengthening
plaster and could scarcely crawl. Gained the heights, and
saw the Severn with its wide waters before me, but the
night was cloudy and I could but just distinguish a park
on my left as I entered Chepstow\ There I was regaled
with songs by a cheerful young man of the town who
was entertaining the landlord's daughters—fine girls,
particularly the youngest—in the bar. Read an account
of the riots at Birmingham.’CLIFTON AND BATH IN 1791
201
The journey was continued in the same manner to
Bristol and Bath. Having dined at Beachley Passage
House he crossed the Severn, two miles, in six minutes
and a half, landing on a rough rock covered with sea-
weed, it being half-tide, and went by King’s Weston,
paying a visit to the point in Lord Clifton’s park from
which the celebrated view is to be seen, and thence on
over Durdham Down to Clifton. He notes the villages
and villas which spot the country, the sprinkling of
carriages and horses on the downs, the ‘ close and awful
pass ’ through which the sails rapidly succeed each other
along the Avon; the Hot Wells, ‘ and the walks full of
walkers, French staymakers, Pall Mall milliners, and all
the finery and impertinence of life; ’ and adds : £ I was
sorry to renew my acquaintance with it.’ Next day he
notes the picturesque aspect of St. Vincent’s rocks,
tastes the water at the Hot Wells, and notes the young
women, many apparently consumptive, who were there,
and one girl who ‘ drank her glass on the mail pillion.’
He complains of being ‘ enveloped in black dust on the
road to Bath, where the Boyal Crescent on the hillside
strikes him with its simplicity and beauty as he enters
the city, which, however, ‘ wants the domes and turrets of
public buildings to give it magnificence ’ at a distance.
The month in which Bogers had thus been enjoying
the delights of home travel, which made him sorry to
return to all the finery and impertinence of life, had been
one of great anxiety to many of his personal friends.
His brief record on the 20th of July—‘Bead an account
of the riots at Birmingham ’—is like that of an outside
spectator of a serious social and political crisis. There202
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
is no need to tell in this place the painful and disgrace-
ful story of the sack of Dr. Priestley’s house, the de-
struction of his philosophical apparatus and library, and
the burning of the meeting-house in which he preached
by a drunken mob. If on the other side of the Channel
crimes were being committed, as Madame Poland after-
wards exclaimed, in the name of liberty, these outrages
were perpetrated in the England of Pitt and George III.
in the supposed interests of church and king. Rogers
was in full sympathy with those against whom this
violence was directed, but poetry and not politics was
still the uppermost thought in his mind. During the
Welsh journey he corresponded with Mrs. Barbauld,
among other friends, and just before the ominous entry
in his diary he had received from her a letter expressive
of her enthusiastic adherence to the Liberal side. It
was written on the day before the second celebration
of the fall of the Bastille, and the occurrence of the
Birmingham riots.
Mrs. Barbauld to S. Rogers.
‘ Dear Sir,—For your very entertaining as well as very
friendly letter I thank you with all sincerity, and a m
truly sensible of the favour you do me by writing when
you are surrounded by such charming scenes that while
you bend your eyes upon paper you must lose a landscap e_
But why do you bid me write who have nothing to com-
municate, where there are neither harps nor Druids ?
We have a lady, indeed, and she is a pretty lady, who
sings a Welsh song most enchantingly, hut then she has
not the advantage of singing in a cottage ; and, moreoverAN APPEAL BY MRS. BARBAULD
203
she is a married woman. I have been trying in my
own mind whether Miss Hagen with her fingers upon her
harp, will hear any comparison with an antient Druid
sweeping his with his flowing beard, hut I find her so
infinitely inferior in the sublime, that I am obliged to
drop the similitude. I know of no news to tell you but
that Mr. George Maltby was at meeting yesterday, look-
ing very happy, and that the family of the Websters set
off to-morrow for Devonshire, to our great regret, as I
suppose they quit Hampstead entirely,
‘ But pray, sir, what have you to say in your defence
for rambling amongst fairy streams and hanging woods
instead of being at the “ Crown and Anchor,” as you and
every good patriot ought to be on the 14th of July?
What do you say to that ? Do not you deserve at least as
severe a philippic as the Welsh farmer gave his cow ?
‘ Muse, thy thrilling numbers dart
Through his ear and through his heart,
Chide the youth who holds his stay
Far from Freedom’s band away,
‘ Hanging woods and fairy streams
Inspirers of poetic dreams,
Must not now the soul enthral
While dungeons burst and despots fall.
‘ Shall peals of village bells prevail,
Floating on the summer gale,
While the Tocsin sounds afar,
Breathing arms and glorious war ?
‘ Think when woods of brownest shades
Open bright to sunny glades,
Such the gloom and such the light
Of Freedom’s noon and Slavery’s night.204
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
‘ Harps of Mona, sound once more,
With strong vibrations shake the shore,
Ne’er did your solemn cords relate
Eventful scenes so big with fate.
‘Now stretched at hoary Snowdon’s base
Hide in shades thy long disgrace,
And blush that Freedom’s child should be
Far from Freedom’s Jubilee.
‘ You see liow envious I am, not being able to trans-
port myself to those delightful scenes you so well describe.
I am maliciously endeavouring to disturb the harmony of
your sensations, hut I daresay you will disappoint my
malice. ... I hope when you return we shall have the
pleasure of seeing you soon, as we shall go into Norfolk,
I believe, about the beginning of August.
‘ M. Eabaud 1 has sent a second address to the people
of England. It is an exhortation to peace, and urges
sentiments of national justice, which I hope we are not
disposed to controvert.
‘ Perhaps you know that Mrs. Williams and Cecilia are
set out for France, and that Helen and the rest of the
family are soon to follow. They pay a visit to their old
friends at Eouen before they settle at Orleans.
‘ Mr. Barbauld, who has shared in the entertainment
of your letter, desires to join in thanks for it and in affec-
tionate remembrance,
‘ I am, dear Sir,
‘ Your obliged friend and faithful servant,
‘A. L. Barbauld.
‘Hampstead: July 13th. [Postmark 1791.] ’
1 M. Eabaud St. Etienne, a deputy of the National Assembly. He
was a Protestant clergyman and correspondent of Hr. Price.THOMAS ROGERS AT STOURBRIDGE
205
The excitement which the Birmingham riots pro-
9
dnced spread more or less violently all through the
country. Thomas Rogers was well known to be in full
sympathy with Dr. Priestley and his friends, and there
were reasons to fear an attack bv the mob on the house
t/
at ‘ The Hill,’ where his sisters, Samuel Rogers’s aunts,
continued to live. Happily the danger passed over.
Thomas Rogers was there, as usual, in the summer, and
in a letter to his son, dated the 21st of September,
speaks of the state of feeling which then existed at
Stourbridge:—
‘ I am sorry to say in answer to your postscript
respecting the party spirit at Stourbridge, that there
is some truth in the report, though the conduct of the
church is not quite so bad as the report makes it. Mr.
Parker junr., a grocer in the town, received a parcel by
the common carrier of the obnoxious handbill.1 He
owns that he gave one of them to a clergyman in the
neighbourhood, but at [the] same time expressed his dis-
approbation of it, and his determination to burn the
remainder. He declares solemnly that he burnt all the
other copies immediately afterwards, but one of them
having been left in the public library and another stuck
up in the coffee-room at the “ Talbot,” and about six
more having been sent under cover from the post-office
in Stourbridge to as many gentlemen in the neighbour-
1 This was an address from the assembled deputies and delegates of
the Protestant Dissenters of England to the Protestant Dissenters of
Birmingham who suffered from the riots. It expressed the astonishment
and horror the outrages had excited, and assured the Birmingham
Dissenters of their warmest affection and steadiest support.206
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
hoocl, the whole of this, notwithstanding his denial, is
laid to his charge. This brought the young man into
disgrace, and many of his customers immediately sent for
their hills and paid them off and left his shop. Some
others of the Dissenters have also suffered in their
business. . . . The flame the handbill has occasioned
is scarcely to be conceived, and the violent charge the
whole body of Dissenters with entertaining the same
sentiments, and wishing for a revolution in this coun-
try, and conduct themselves accordingly; but it is said
that at Birmingham and Stourbridge they are soften-
ing apace. Many of my acquaintance seem to be more
attentive to me than usual.’
In a postscript he adds :—
‘ I am inclined to think Dr. Priestley will not return
to Birmingham. All the respectable part of the congre-
gation, except about two or three, signed a very warm
request for his return, but he had not returned his
answer on Wednesday last. Mr. Taylor and Mr. John
Ryland were among the opponents. When I saw Mr.
Stone at Brighton he intimated that it was the wish of
many of the Hackney gentlemen to invite the doctor to
Hackney, and that Mr. William Morgan approved of the
idea. He said also if Jones went to Birmingham, where
he was likely to be invited, that perhaps Dr. P. would
be prevailed on to give chemical and philosophical
lectures at the College.’
The Jones mentioned in this letter seems to have
gone to Birmingham as Mr. Morgan expected. HeAN INTERVIEW WITH DR. PARR
207
appears also to have kept up a connection with the house
at Newington Green. Samuel Rogers’s advice to him to
call on Dr. Parr was the origin of one of the familiar
stories told by him and not very correctly reported by
Mr. Hayward in the Edinburgh Review article in which
Mr. Dyce’s inaccuracies are severely rebuked. The
story is told by the Rev. D. Jones himself in the follow-
ing letter:—
An Interview with Dr. Parr.
‘Bm.: 13th Novr., 1793.
‘ Dear Sir,—Do not be surprised by the trouble I now
give you. Perhaps you recollect a part of our conversa-
tion which turned upon Dr. Parr, and your advising me
to introduce myself to him. This advice I took the first
opportunity of putting in practice. The next Saturday
after seeing you I set out for Warwick. Hatton, the
Doctor’s residence, lies in the way. I arrived at the place,
fastened my horse to the gate, knocked at the door, en-
quired for the Doctor, and learned that he was at dinner.
I told the servant I would wait while he dined, when I
should be glad to speak to him. I was turned into a
parlour where was the Doctor’s picture; it set him off to
the best advantage. Here I waited half an hour, con-
templating the oddness of the adventure. The door opens,
I prepare to make my bow and my speech—behold, it is a
servant girl come to ask my name! Presently again the
handle of the door moves, I make the same preparations—
behold, it is a .young lady whom I took to be Miss Parr,
and who proved to be her ! She requests me to walk
into the parlour. This I decline, stating that I had not208
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
the honour of being known to the Doctor, but that when
he was perfectly at leisure I should be glad to speak a
few words with him. I judged it better to introduce
myself to him alone than before company. The young
lady soon left me, and she had hardly been gone any
time before the great man ushered himself in. I -was
cool and composed. I approached him and thus accosted
him : “I hope, sir, I have not interrupted your dinner ;
I begged that I might wrait till you were perfectly at
leisure ? ” “ Not at all, sir.” “ My name is Jones ; I am a
Dissenting minister at Birmingham. Being on my road to
Warwick I could not resist the inclination I felt to pay
my respects to Dr. Parr.” I had hardly uttered these
words but the Doctor’s eyes glistened. He took me by
the hand, squeezing it heartily, leading me round the
room, and asking me several times how I did. He begged
I would stay the evening with him, and offered to send
to Warwick to apprise my friends of it. I closed with
the offer, as I was not expected at Warwick. He then
introduced me to Mrs. and Miss Parr as a man of piety,
sense, &c.; to another lady and gentleman as “ a thorough
Whig, no Tory, but one who had successfully opposed
them in his writings.” This was about four o’clock, and
the Doctor entertained me till one in the morning. I
was highly pleased with him. He possesses first-rate
conversational powers. He speaks of Dr. Priestley in the
highest terms. “ Ma’am,” said he to a lady there, “ he has
done more to promote human knowledge than any man
in Europe.” I have since written to him, and received a
very friendly reply, and have a general invitation to his
house, of which I mean to avail myself.A VISIT TO DR. PARR
209
‘ I think not very highly of Brissot and his party, but
there was no necessity for putting so many people to
death. The account shocked me greatly. I do not mean
to try to draw you into a correspondence, but if you
could let me know, in a few words, how I am to conceive
of that event it would oblige me much. I do not urge
this, as it will not be long ere I see you. I thought that
the relation of this adventure, suggested by yourself, may
amuse you. Excuse the freedom, and believe me with
unfeigned esteem to be sincerely yours,
‘ D. Jones.
‘ Samuel Rogers, Esq.,
‘Newington Green.’
P210
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
CHAPTER VII.
4 The Pleasures of Memory ’—Letter of Criticism from Dr. Parr ; Notes—
Letter of Gilpin—Hayward’s Criticism—Estimate of the Poem.
Mrs. Barbatjld’s rebuke to Rogers for being away in Wales,
‘ far from Freedom’s Jubilee,’ on the second anniversary
of the capture of the Bastille need not be held to indicate
any want of sympathy on his part with the great Liberal
movements of the time. His nephew Samuel Sharpe
reminds us that ‘ poetry was the uppermost thought in
his mind ; ’ and he was at that time just bringing his
chief poem to completion. He had been occupied with
it for more than six years. It was begun in 1785, as
soon as the ‘Ode to Superstition’ was complete, and in
the summer of 1791 he was just sending it to the press.
It had been written in the same manner as his earlier
poems. It was literally the recreation of a man of busi-
ness, his ‘ leisure’s best resource,’ as he calls it in the
lines prefixed to the fifth edition. With the exception
of his holidays, which the state of his health made some-
what more frequent than they might otherwise have
been, his whole life during these years was that of
a junior partner in the bank. He went into the City in
the morning, spent the day there, dined early with the
other partners at the banking-house, and rode or walked‘ON A TEAR ’
211
home when business was over. He had, of late years,
been more away from home in the evening, going with
Dr. Kippis to literary parties or to some literary club, or
to the Hampstead Assemblies, or following up his acquain-
tance with Mrs. Barbauld or the Baillies, the Piozzis, the
Williamses, or Dr. Moore. But as a rule his evenings
were spent in diligent reading or in equally diligent com-
position. The only verses which he published during these
years seem to have been the little poem ‘ On a Tear ’ which
in his works bears the date of 1791. It was apparently
printed in Este’s journal, World, and reissued in
1791 in a i2mo volume entitled ‘The Poetry of The
World,'and published by Bidgeway. In a review of two
of these volumes in the Monthly Review for September,
1791, the managers of the paper are thanked ‘ for the
exertions which they have made to rescue newspaper
poetry from disgrace by inviting some acknowledged
favourites of the Muses to decorate their pages.’ The fa-
vourites whose names are mentioned are Mr. Sheridan,
Mr. Merry, Mrs. Cowley, Mr. Andrews, Mr. Jerningham,
Mr. Colrnan, Mrs. Bobinson, Captain Broome, and Captain
Topliam. Most of these belonged to the Della Cruscan
school, and all but Sheridan are forgotten. But the
critic quotes none of them. He deprecates criticism as
‘ breaking butterflies on the wheel,' and adds, ‘ instead of
assisting our readers to detect little faults we will tempt
them to admire by transcribing the following beautiful
stanzas.’ He then quotes the six verses ‘ On a Tear,’
which have almost ever since kept their place in collec-
tions of popular poetry.
‘ The Pleasures of Memory ’ was published by Mr.212
EAELY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
Caclell early in 1792. It was described as by the author of
the ‘ Ode to Superstition.’ Only two hundred and fifty
copies were printed, and they were disposed of at once. A
long review of the poem appeared in the Critical Review
for April 1792, in which it was rather severely criticised,
though with the admission that its defects were over-
powered by its beauties. ‘ The flame of genius,’ said the
critic, ‘ which pervaded, and so brightly glowed in the
“ Ode to Superstition,” demanded our applause, which we
shall not withhold from the present poem, though exhibit-
ing less splendid marks of poetical inspiration ; more
argumentative and metaphysical.’ In June the Monthly
Review made the poem the subject of its first article, and
spoke of it with unstinted praise. ‘ If the author of this
poem be thought happy in the choice of a copious and
fertile theme, which has yet by no means been exhausted,
he is equally so in the manner in which he has treated it.
Correctness of thought, delicacy of sentiment, variety of
imagery, and harmony of versification are the characters
which distinguish this beautiful poem in a degree that
cannot fail to ensure its success.’ This is a perfectly
just account of the poem; and does not need the
slightest change at the end of nearly a hundred years.
In the same month in which it appeared the Critical
Review in a short notice said that though neither the
fiery stream of passion, nor the electric sparks of fancy
burn along the lines, yet a mellow tasteful tint shed over
it renders many of the sentiments interesting and the
whole soothing. These two views are curiously blended
by Mr. Hayward in the article written sixty-four years
later in the Edinburgh Review. He there said of Rogers* THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY ’
213
that ‘ from the moment he discovered that he was
destined to excel by grace, elegance, subdued sentiment,
and chastened fancy—not by fervid passion, lofty ima-
gination or deep feeling—his poetic fortune was made.’1
Sir Egerton Brydges, who had just published a little
volume of sonnets and poems, records in his ‘ Autobio-
graphy ’ that a year or two after he entered the lists ‘ came
out Rogers’s “ Pleasures of Memory,” which instantly
became popular, especially among the ladies. The lines
have something of a cast between Tickell, Shenstone,
and Goldsmith.’2 The popularity of the poem was
by no means confined to ladies. Critics, authors, philo-
sophers, and statesmen united in its praise. The first
editions seem to have been sold as soon as they were
published. Rogers’s early friend, William Maltby, writes
to him while he was travelling in the south of England
in July, telling him that he had called at Cadell’s and
learned from Lawless that the whole impression was
sold before the Monthly Review came out, and adding
‘ he lamented that two hundred and fifty copies only were
printed, as twice the number might have been sold.’
This may possibly refer to a second edition, as the work
was out, and copies were sent to the author’s friends
early in January. Robert Merry, the almost forgotten
author of ‘ Lorenzo ’ and £ Fenelon,’ writes to Rogers
from 35 Gerrard Street on the i8th of January 1792,
thanking him for a copy of the poem, telling him that
he had gone to Mr. Cadell and found out the author,
and urging him to put his name to it at once. During
1	Edinburgh Reviezv, July 1856.
2	Autobiography, vol. i. p. 87.214
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
the first twelve or fourteen months after its issue four
editions of the poem, probably of two hundred and fifty
copies each, were disposed of, and its popularity and
success were already established. In May 1793 a fifth
edition was published, and it was thought wise to venture
on printing a thousand copies. These were all dis-
tributed in the course of the year. This fifth edition
was a duodecimo of a hundred and twenty-four pages,
and was published at six shillings. It was prefaced by
the introductory lines which have ever since stood as
the preface to all editions of his poems. It is only fair
to Rogers that I should point out how completely these
lines embody the spirit and express the motive of his
poetry. He could not have sat at Dr. Price’s feet or
been Priestley’s friend, or breathed for thirty years the
moral and spiritual atmosphere of blended Puritanism
and latitudinarianism which pervaded his Stoke New-
ington home, without learning to feel a high sense of
moral responsibility for what he wrote.
Oh, could my mind, unfolded in my page,
Enlighten climes and mould a future age ;
There as it glowed, with noblest frenzy fraught,
Dispense the treasures of exalted thought;
To Virtue wake the pulses of the heart,
And bid the tear of emulation start!
Oh could it still, through each succeeding year,
My life, my manners, and my name endear,
And, when the poet sleeps in silent dust,
Still hold communion with the wise and just!—
Yet should this Verse, my leisure’s best resource,
When through the world it steals its secret course,
Revive but once a generous wish supprest,‘THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY’
215
Cliase but a sigli, or charm a care to rest;
In one good deed a fleeting hour employ,
Or flush one faded cheek with honest joy;
Blest were my lines, though limited their sphere,
Though short their date as his who traced them here.
In this last line he gives expression to the feeling his
frail health produced. He had less expectation and less
reason for the expectation of long life than young men
usually have. These lines were published before he had
completed his thirtieth year, and he lived for nearly
sixty-three years after they were written. He lived to
know that ‘ The Pleasures of Memory ’ had taken its place
as an English classic. The fifth edition, to which this
preface was affixed, was illustrated with a couple of whole-
page woodcuts from drawings by T. Stothard : the first a
group of children to illustrate the line—
’Twas here we chas’d the slipper by its sound ;
and the second, the Shipwreck, with the ‘ faint and faded
Julia ’ in her lover’s arms on the shore, and the father
kneeling behind, his white hairs strewed in the wind.
This edition contained the ‘ Ode to Superstition,’ and five
small poems which like the ‘ Ode ’ had been previously
published. These were, ‘The Sailor,’ ‘Verses on a Tear,’
‘ Sketch of the Alps at Daybreak,’ ‘A Wish,’ and ‘An
Italian Song.’ The ‘ Ode ’ was illustrated by two woodcuts
from pictures by R. Westall: the first, of the Fates ‘ wrapt
in clouds, in tempests tost; ’ and the second to illustrate
the lines—
In cloistered solitude she sits and sighs,
While from each shrine still small responses rise.
Each engraving bears the words ‘ Published May 29th,216
EAELY LIFE OF SAMUEL BO GEES
I793> by T. Cadell, Strand.’ The world has been so
often told that Rogers got his poems beautifully illus-
trated because they had ceased to sell, that it is needful
to point out how early he began to associate his poetry
with the best examples of the engraver’s art. Nearly
all the editions of his poems contained engravings, if it
were only, as in the edition of 1816, pretty vignettes by
Stothard, engraved by Clennell, to fill blank pages and
the spaces at the beginning and end of a poem. The
popularity of ‘ The Pleasures of Memory,’ shown by the
issue of the fifth edition within sixteen months, continued
to increase year by year. He did not put his name on
the title-page even of the fifth edition, but he signed the
prefatory lines with his initials, and the binder labelled
the volume on the back ‘Rogers’s Poems.’ From this
time, therefore, he was known and wherever he went was
acknowledged as the popular poet of ‘ The Pleasures of
Memory.’ In 1794 a sixth and a seventh edition, each
of a thousand copies, were published. In 1797 appeared
the eighth edition, also of a thousand; a ninth in 1798,
and a tenth and eleventh in 1799. In 1801 a twelfth
edition was called for, and the number printed was raised
to fifteen hundred, in addition to which a hundred copies
were printed on large paper ; in 1802 the thirteenth
edition, also of fifteen hundred, was issued. On the four-
teenth edition being called for in 1803 the number
printed was raised to two thousand ; in 1806 the fif-
teenth edition was printed, also of two thousand. The
sale continued at much the same rate, and the edition of
1816, already mentioned, was the nineteenth. Omitting
the sales of the first four editions, of which no clearLARGE SALE OF THE POEM
217
record is preserved, but which consisted of very small
numbers, and including the large paper copies, of which
a hundred were printed in 1801 and two hundred and
fifty in 1810, the total issue of the work—from the pub-
lication of the fifth edition in 1793 to the nineteenth in
1816—was 22,350 copies. This was one of the greatest
literary successes of the time. When we recollect how
small the educated and reading world then was, and to
how narrow an audience a poem of culture and not of
passion was addressed, the steady and increasing demand
for ‘ The Pleasures of Memory ’ is a remarkable sign of
the poetical taste of the period, and of Rogers’s success
in meeting and satisfying it. These large numbers may
be compared with the small sale of Wordsworth’s ‘ Ex-
cursion,’ of which the first edition, published in 1814,
consisted of only five hundred copies and sufficed for six
years, when another edition of the same number was
issued, and lasted seven years. The favour with which
Rogers’s poem was received was, moreover, not that of the
unreflecting multitude. The letters published in these
volumes, and similar letters and notices which are scat-
tered all through the biographies of Rogers’s eminent
contemporaries, show the universal appreciation in which
his ‘ Pleasures of Memory ’ was held by men of taste
and culture. It was totally unlike anything that was
appearing at the time. The period had just passed of
which Macaulay speaks when he says that ‘ poetry had
fallen into such decay that Mr. Hayley was considered a
great poet.’ Cowper, whose Life is the work by which
Hayley best deserves to be remembered, had already pub-
lished most of his poems; and his translation of Homer,218
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
in which Rogers delighted as Thomas Campbell also did,
had come out in the year before. 4 The Task,’ which
had been the most popular of his poems, had appeared
in 1785 ; but large and rapid as its sale had been, so
large that Johnson the publisher told Rogers he had
been induced to make a handsome present to its author,
it did not by any means reach the success of 4 The Plea-
sures of Memory.’ Hayley’s popularity had already
faded away before that of Cowper, and the sentimental
school to which he belonged, and of which he had been
the foremost representative, had disappeared in the new
love of simplicity and naturalness which Cowper had
awakened. The Della Cruscans wrere the degenerate
descendants of the sentimental school, and were only
waiting for Gifford’s rough heel to crush them finally.
Other poets were still in embryo. Tom Moore, then a
boy of fourteen, though, as he calls himself, 4 a deter-
mined rhymester,’ had not sent his first rhymes to the'
Anthologia Hibernica, in which magazine he first read
Rogers’s poem in the numbers for January and February
1793—little dreaming, he says in his memoirs of himself,
that he should one day become the intimate friend of the
author; 4 and such an impression did it then make on
me,’ he adds, 4 that the particular type in which it is
there printed, and the very colour of the paper are asso-
ciated with every line of it in my memory.’ Byron was
a child just four years old. Wordsworth was in France
looking on at the Revolution, riveted to the spot, as his
biographer tells us, by a mysterious spell, longing to'
remain in Paris, but obliged by circumstances to return,,
or, as he says in 4 The Prelude ’—CONTEMPORARY POETS
219
Dragged by a chain of liarsli necessity,
So seemed it—now I thankfully acknowledge
Forced by the gracious Providence of Heaven—
and thus escaping the proscription which swept away
his friends the Brissotins, with whom he says he should
have made common cause, and
haply perished, too,
A poor mistaken and bewildred offering,
Should to the breast of Nature have gone back
With all my resolutions, all my hopes,
A Poet only to myself.
Wordsworth’s first little volume of ‘ Descriptive
Sketches ’ came out in the year after £ The Pleasures of
Memory.’ Coleridge was at Cambridge where he had
just gained the medal for a Greek ode, and where he
was regarded only as the revolutionist in politics and
the heretic in religion. Southey had not yet entered at
Balliol, where he wras afterwards regarded in precisely
the same light as that in which Coleridge stood at
Cambridge. Of those who may properly be described as
his contemporaries, Rogers was, therefore, some years in
advance. He had come to fame before any one of them
had been heard of, and he survived them all.
The published criticisms on ‘ The Pleasures of
Memory ’ in the periodicals of the day have already been
spoken of. The chief objection urged was that of the
Critical Review, which discovered bad grammar in the
eight lines, now only six, which describe ‘ the intrepid
Swiss that guards a foreign shore; ’ and strongly ob-
jected to the stanzas :—
That hall where once in antiquated state
The chair of justice held the grave debate ;220
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
on the ground that figuratively speaking the chair of
justice might hear, but could not * hold, the debate.’
Rogers, however, appears to have taken the same view
of the recommendations of critics which was taken by
Burns. When Mr. Ramsay of Ochtertyre asked Burns
whether the literary men of Edinburgh had improved
his poems by their criticisms : ‘ Sir,’ said the poet, ‘ these
gentlemen remind me of some spinsters in my country
who spin their thread so fine that it is neither fit for
weft nor woof.’ He said he had not changed a word,
except one to please Dr. Blair. Rogers probably changed
a few words—not to please Dr. Parr, but in consequence
of Dr. Parr’s criticisms. He sent the Doctor an illustrated
edition of the poem in 1796, and received the following
characteristic letter of acknowledgment and criticism :—
Dr. Parr to S. Rogers.
6 Hatton : June 14, 1796.
‘ Dear Sir,—With pleasure—no it was often with
delight, it was sometimes even with ecstasy, it was with
approbation almost always, that I have read your poem
on Memory. The topics are, indeed, chosen most perti-
nently and even happily. The imagery is rich and
varied, the versification is near perfection—and so near
that I must entreat you with a little revisal and a little
effort to make it quite perfect. Your Muse is so gay
without levity, and so serious without gloominess, that
she would have tamed the surly genius of Johnson him-
self. She holds, and has a right to hold, converse with
the spirits of Shenstone and Goldsmith and Gray.
Believe me, dear sir, when I tell you that my mind,CRITICISM BY DR. PARR
221
jaded as it has been even to indifference and insensi-
bility upon tlie common objects of poetry when treated
of by common minds, was roused and refreshed by the
uncommon excellencies of your most charming poem.
I love the work and I love the artist so well that without
further preamble I will tell him of the passages which do
not satisfy me.
‘ Page 15 : “resigned” is surely a feeble epithet to hap-
piness, nay, it is an improper one. Piesignation may make
us happy, but happiness does not make us resigned.1
‘ Page 17.2 What do you mean by “ the Sybil’s mut-
tered call,” and who is the Sybil'? And by “ muttered ”
call do you mean a call that was given in a muttering
tone ? To me this is quite enigmatical.
‘ In the same page—-
‘ To learn the colour of my future years.
1	As when in ocean sinks the orb of day,
Long on the wave reflected lustres play ;
Thy tempered gleams of happiness resigned
Glance on the darkened mirror of the mind.
2	Down by yon hazel copse, at evening, blazed
The Gipsy’s fagot—there we stood and gazed ;
Gazed on her sunburnt face with silent awe,
Her tattered mantle, and her hood of straw;
Her moving lips, her cauldron brimming o’er ;
The drowsy brood that on her back she bore,
Imps, in the barn with mousing owlet bred,
From rifled roost at nightly revel fed ;
Whose dark eyes flashed through locks of blackest shade,
When in the breeze the distant watch-dog bayed :—
And heroes fled the Sibyl’s muttered call,
Whose elfin-prowess scaled the orchard-wall.
As o’er my palm the silver piece she drew,
And traced the line of life with searching view,
How throbbed my fluttering pulse with hopes and fears,
To learn the colour of my future years !222
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
Does the word “ learn ” quite harmonise with the word
colour ” ? Each expression is good by itself, but they are
not well joined together here, and the transition is too
violent from a dignified literal word “ learn ” to the vivid
metaphorical word “ colour.”
‘ Page 18 :—
‘ Unconscious of the kindred earth
That faintly echoed to the voice of mirth.1
I really do not know what you mean by “ the kindred
earth ” which faintly echoes, &c.
‘ Page 19 :—
‘ — whose every word enlightened.2
The use of “ every ” is rather too pretty ; and, indeed, is
the only prettyism I have seen, and therefore it strikes
the more, as being more contrary to the general purity
and elegance of the style.
‘ Page 21 :—
‘ —yet all with magic art
Controul the latent fibres of the heart.3
1	On yon grey stone, that fronts the chancel door,
Worn smooth by busy feet now seen no more,
Each eve we shot the marble through the ring,
When the heart danced, and life was in its spring;
Alas ! unconscious of the kindred earth,
That faintly echoed to the voice of mirth.
2	Guides of my life ! Instructors of my youth!
Who first unveiled the hallowed form of truth !
Whose every word enlightened and endeared
In age beloved, in poverty revered;
In friendship’s silent register ye live,
Nor ask the vain memorial Art can give.
3	Lulled in the countless chambers of the brain,
Our thoughts are linked by many a hidden chain.CRITICISM BY DR. PARR
223
The philosophy is here better than the poetry, each
thought “ stamps its image,” each “ brightens or
fades.” Here we have imagery, very just and distinct
and yet varied. But is not the imagery rather too re-
mote from that which precedes,'when we are told that
thoughts “ controul the latent fibres ” ? My friend, you
do not lead my fancy but you drag it after you here.
Perhaps, too, I am not quite pleased with the word
“ dispense ” as applied to the “ varied avenues of sense ”
—avenues do not dispense.
‘ Page 24 :—
‘ All touched the talisman’s resistless spring.* 1
This line, though intelligible, is obscure. I have many
m
objections and will state them to you. In the two
preceding lines we have ornamental description and
ornament, too, which throws over the mind many strong
images, well adapted to the scenery, as it affects the
senses ; but, my friend, is there not danger of confusion,
when, having recalled such images so pleasing to the
senses, you proceed in bold metaphor to speak of the
Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise !
Each stamps its image as the other flies.
Each, as the various avenues of sense
Delight or sorrow to the soul dispense,
Brightens or fades; yet all, with magic art,
Controul the latent fibres of the heart.
1 So Scotia’s Queen, as slowly dawned the day,
Bose on her couch, and gazed her soul away.
Her eyes had blessed the beacon’s glimmering height,
That faintly tipped the feathery surge with light;
But now the morn with Orient hues pourtrayed
Each castled cliff, and brown monastic shade ;
All touched the talisman’s resistless spring,
And lo, what busy tribes were instant on the wing 1224
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
operations of the mind ? To me it is quite enigmatical -
And consider, too, after the metaphor of the talisman
we have another metaphor of “busy tribes” that are
“ on the wing,” and do you think that touching a spring-
leads us to think of beings on the wing ? I think these
metaphors do not follow one another well, and when
two metaphors immediately succeed such vivid des-
cription of natural scenery I feel my mind confounded
and fatigued.
‘ Page 2 6 :—
‘ When at liis feet . . . the sage . . . reposed.1
If you use “ when ” it should be when Tully found him
reposing; if you put “ where ” the passage will be right.
Perhaps you were frightened by seeing the word “ where ”
follow so close in the next sentence. I am not quite
satisfied with the line where you say that “ his youth in
sweet delusion hung.” 2 To hang in delusion is at least
unusual, and though it be a fact that this happened
when Cicero was young, yet the circumstance of youth
does not add to the effect; therefore I would have avoided
the word “youth” and have endeavoured to express it
in a plainer way as that which happened while he was
young. His mind felt the charming delusion when he
was young.
1	As now at Virgil’s tomb
We bless the shade, and bid the verdure bloom ;
So Tully paused, amid the wrecks of Time,
On the rude stone to trace the truth sublime ;
When at his feet, in honoured dust disclosed
The immortal Sage of Syracuse reposed.
2 The line was altered. It now reads
1 And as he long in sweet delusion hung.’CRITICISM BY DR. PARR
225
‘ Page 27.:—
‘ What though the fiend’s torpedo-touch arrest!
Dear sir, this line shocked me. The character of a
fiend is accompanied by an idea of violence with which
“torpedo-touch" ill accords; and again I do not like
the word “ arrest ” as joined to “ torpedo-touch ”—for
surely to arrest suggests some notion of vehemence and
force which is very ill-connected with the touch of a
torpedo. No touch can arrest, so far as touch is a slight
operation ; and then a torpedo-touch conveys to me, as I
told you before, an idea of benumbing properties 1 rather
than of those which arrest or seize, and by seizing stop
the motions of the mind. I know you can say that a
torpor seizes, but I should not say the touch of a tor-
por seizes, nor should I choose to sa}r that this act of
seizing had checked any preceding emotion, whether
habitual or not. When we so use the word “ seize,” we
mean to express the suddenness of the effect, rather than
the vehemence of the cause. Again, in the same page
I do not find the word “erase” very appropriate to the
word “school,” though it agrees well enough with the
epithet “iron.”2 * Still, my friend, you must not have
1 It may be desirable to remind a younger generation of readers that
the torpedo of their grandfathers is an electrical ray-fish (torpedo vul-
garis), commonly called 4 the cramp fish.’
The lines here criticised are—
What though the iron school of War erase
Each milder virtue and each softer grace ;
What though the fiend’s torpedo - touch arrest
Each gentler, purer impulse of the breast ;
Still shall this active principle preside
And wake the tear to Pity’s self denied.
Q226
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
the properties of the subject merged in the properties of
the adjunct; and wishing the subject were better adapted
to the action of erasing, I must beg leave to express my
doubt on the propriety of the epithet “iron ” as applied
under any circumstances to the subject “school.” I
cannot admit the transposition of “iron school of war ”
for the “school of iron war” except in dithyrambic,
nonsensical, meteoric odes.
‘ Page 30:—
‘ And win each wavering purpose to relent
With warmth so mild, so gently violent.
I don’t understand these two lines. We generally say
that a stubborn, not a wavering, purpose relents ; and
pray what do you mean by “ with warmth so mild, so
gently violent ” ? I am all confusion about it.
‘ Page 31 :—
‘ These, when to guard Misfortune’s sacred grave,
Will firm Fidelity exult to brave.
The first line is obscure. You mean to say when em-
ployed, or when designing, to guard the grave, but you
have not said it; and after not finding your meaning in the
first line we expect to find it in the second, and expecting to
find it'—[not finding it, is clearly the meaning]—‘ in the
second we are driven back to the first, and even there we
cannot find it without an effort—without supplying some-
thing which is not expressed. This effort is made more
painful from the structure of the second line, which is very
artificial. “ These, will firm Fidelity exult to brave,” I
could understand pretty well, if the other construction,
“ when to guard Misfortune’s sacred grave ” did not inter-CRITICISM BY DR. PARR
227
vene. But the passage so intervening makes me look for
aid from the second, which aid is not furnished ; and the
second, where the ideas are thrown at a distance from the
subject to which it relates, finds embarrassment upon
embarrassment—embarrassment from the interven-
ing passage, and embarrassment from its own inverted
position in tracing its way back to that which Fidelity
exults to brave. Besides, my friend, I do not relish
the personification of Fidelity, nor do I much admire the
epithet “fir m,” nor do I much approve ofthe word “exult.”
Bo you think that exultation is a very obvious property of
fidelity ? And if it is not obvious what are the circum-
stances which make it proper on this occasion ? I see
none. Pray reconsider the lines.1
‘ Page 45:—
‘. . . . presumes its base control.
Is this quite accurate ? I think otherwise.2 *
1 It may be well to quote the whole passage, to the last two lines of
which this criticism applies—
Eecall the traveller, whose altered form
Has borne the buffet of the mountain storm ;
And who will first his fond impatience meet ?
His faithful dog’s already at his feet!
Yes, though the porter spurn him from the door,
Tho’ all that knew him, know his face no more,
His faithful dog shall tell his joy to each,
With that mute eloquence which passes speech.—
And see, the master but returns to die !
Yet who shall bid the watchful servant fly ?
The blasts of heaven, the drenching dews of earth,
The wanton insults of unfeeling mirth,
These, when to guard Misfortune’s sacred grave,
Will firm Fidelity exult to brave.
7 The line is altered to — 4 * * 7 assumes its base control.’228
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
‘ Page 50 :—
‘ So riclily cultured, every native grace
Its scanty limits he forgets to trace.
My ear is hurt with its scanty limits, and my under-
standing is totally at a loss to conjecture what you mean.1
‘ Time’s sombrous touches soon correct the piece,
Mellow each tint, and bid each discord cease ;
A softer tone of light pervades the whole,
And breathes a pensive languor o’er the soul.
My mind, I am sure, feels here a very strange dis-
cord indeed. Again and again I have had occasion to
tell authors that one metaphor never can be worked into
another. I remember in a famous speech of Lord Mans-
field’s about Wilkes he was guilty of confounding two
metaphors. He spoke of “ the colour of his life,” and so
far was well. But he added to the word colour some
other metaphorical term, completely heterogeneous. I
forget what it was, and am a dunce for forgetting it,
though at this moment I remember a stupid attempt of
a stupid antiquarian to vindicate the learned judge by
supposing that he alluded to Heraldry. Lord Mansfield's
speech was for a time admired, and when I attacked it,
I never found a man of sense undertake its defence.
Having fetched, like Parson Adams, a stride across the
room, and brandished my pipe, I suddenly experience
the “ Pleasures of Memory.” Lord Mansfield’s word was
“ armed ”—“ has armed the colour of my life.” His life
1 The lines now read—
So rich the culture, tho’ so small the space,
Its scanty limits he forgets to trace.CRITICISM BY DR. PARR
229
might he armed, but the colour of it could not be. I
return from Lord Mansfield to a better man and a better
writer. My friend, you pass too quickly from painting
to music ; from the sense of seeing to the sense of hear-
ing. There are, it is true, some words which, belonging
originally to one sense, are without violence transferred
to another. So, sweet, from taste, is applied to sound ;
and even to the features of a countenance, so, soft, from
feeling is applied both to notes and pictures. I allow
much to the laws and even caprices of association; I
allow much to the authority of custom, which predomi-
nates not only in the cases just now mentioned, but in
many other metaphorical words, which having originally
a mere literal sense are also used in a metaphorical sense
with such frequency that we hardly perceive them to be
metaphorical. But none of these concessions will avail
towards your justification. My concessions go to single
words. But in your poem we have more than single
words—we have a train of images, we have a succession
of metaphors ; and when the first metaphor has been
preserved pure many of its appropriate terms are inter-
mingled with a second, and a distinct and quite hetero-
geneous metaphor. I cannot bear the expression of ‘ a
tone of light.’ A soft tone can, but a soft light cannot,
breathe a pensive languor.” Well, but even supposing
that you had preserved the second metaphor from sound
from all mixture of terms borrowed from music, still I
should say that to pass so suddenly from one metaphor
to another, from the effects of one sense to the effects of
another sense, would be a faulty accumulation of imagery :
for you will observe that you are not speaking literally230
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
of sound or literally of colours, but of both meta-
phorically, and according to my judgment metaphors so
remote ought not to succeed each other so closely, more
especially they ought not, because they are applied to
one and the same subject—the mind; and because in
truth they are describing one and the same operation
or affection of that mind. Take either of them away,
leave the picture and remove the music, or leave the
music and remove the picture, and in either case 3^011
will have sufficiently expressed your meaning. I see
what it was which produced this confusion. The unlucky
word “ discord ” has produced all this discord. My friend,
I have observed in poets, and indeed in all speakers, that
the mention of one metaphorical word leads the writer or
speaker into the expansion of the correspondent metaphor
at full. Thus in “ Cymbeline "—
Second Gentleman.—You speak him far.
First Gentleman.—I do extend him, sir, within himself,
Crush him together rather than unfold
His measure duly.
So in Horace, Sat. i.—
Dum ex parvo nobis tantundem haurire relinquas,
Cur tua plus laudes cumeris granaria nostris ?
Having dropped the word haurire he goes on with
the metaphor suggested by it at full—
Ut, tibi si sit opus liquidinon amplius urnd,
Yftl cyatho, et dicas ; Magno de flumine mallem
Quam ex hoc fonticulo tantundem sumere.
I could quote you several other instances, but these
are enough for my purpose, and will show you the trainCRITICISM BY DR. PARR
231
of your own ideas. What you have in common with
Shakespeare and Horace is that one metaphorical term
led you on to a complete metaphor. A difference between
you is that they preserve the metaphor well and that
you have not preserved it. You run on from discordant
tints to discordant sounds, to both of which you meant
to apply the correction of time, and unfortunately when
you got to the sounds you mingled with them the terms
which belonged to the tints.1
‘ Page 54 :—“As the stern ” and “ as when ” in the
third line afterwards, seem to me unfinished writing.2
‘ Page 59 :—“ Tenderer tints.” The comparative here
is very harsh to my ear, and surely it is unusual.3
‘ The close of the tale of Florio is admirably to your
purpose, and is well told ; but the introduction to it is far
too long and too much encumbered with circumstantial
description. Florio, by accident as it afterwards appears,
meets the lady. But what was he doing before ? Was
he merely wandering ? So it should seem. But why,
then, so much description lavished on the scenery ? There
1	The line was altered, and now reads—
And steals a pensive languor o’er the soul.
2	This, too, was altered, and the lines now read—
As the stern grandeur of a Gothic tower
Awes us less deeply in its morning hour,
Than when the shades of Time serenely fall,
On every broken arch and ivied wall.
3	The lines are—
Fair was her form—but who can hope to trac
The pensive softness of her angel face ?
Can Virgil’s verse, can Baphael’s touch, impart
Those finer features of the feeling heart,
Those tenderer tints that shun the careless eye,
And in the world’s contagious climate die ?232
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
is no interest awakened about Florio for near two pages,
because we do not see any purpose he had in view. It is
a charming tale; pray reconsider the introductory parts.
‘ Page 67 :—
‘ Each ready flight at Mercy’s call Divine
To distant worlds that undiscovered shine.
What is the meaning of “ each ready flight ” ? To me it
is nearly unintelligible. The structure, too, displeases me.
My friend, let us suppose this passage right. Every par-
ticular introduced by the word “ each ” has certain effects
separately assigned to it. Very well! But when you come
to the last line to describe their joint effects my mind is
not sufficiently severed from the particular cause and ef-
fects immediately preceding, on which you have bestowed
three lines. (On looking again I suspect “ undiscovered
shine” refers to “worlds.” Be it so. What is a “ready
flight,” and how does a flight “ fling its living rays ? ” My
mistake is a proof that you have not written clearly).
Where the particulars in detail are so fully detailed you
should not have included under the same couplet a part
of one particular effect, and the aggregate effect of all
the preceding particulars. There is something awkward 1
1 The passage referred to in the above criticism is as follows.
Speaking of ‘ the enchantress Memory ’ the poet says :—
But is her magic only felt below ?
Say thro’ what brighter realms she bids it flow?
To what pure beings, in a nobler sphere,
She yields delight but faintly imaged here :
All that till now their rapt researches knew,
Not called in slow succession to review ;
But, as a landscape meets the eye of day,
At once presented to their glad survey !GILPIN’S CRITICISM
233
in this. And so much by way of stricture, were I to put
my commendations on paper they would till six sheets.
‘ Not knowing your address I write to you at Dr.
Bancroft’s, and pray present my best respects to him.
‘ I am, most sincerely yours,
‘ S. Parr.’
Another letter from one of the best known men of
his time seems to have been called forth by a present
from PtOgers similar to that sent to Dr. Parr. The
Rev. William Gilpin writes :—
4 Vicarsliill: July 23, 1796.
‘ I received, my dear sir, your agreeable packet, and
return you many thanks for it, both as it was a token of
your esteem and as it was the vehicle of much real
pleasure and amusement. I am a great lover of nature,
and find it is an instrument on which you have the art
of playing many a pleasant tune.
* But now, my dear sir, you must not call my taste in
question for not having read your poem before. Heard
of it I often have. But as I rarely go out of my own
parish, and live in a neighbourhood which, though a
very agreeable one, is not very literary, I have seldom
the opportunity of seeing anything new but what I pur-
chase myself; and I have been so often disappointed
Each scene of bliss revealed, since chaos fled,
And dawning light its dazzling glories spread ;
Each chain of wonders that sublimely glowed,
Since first Creation’s choral anthem flowed;
Each ready flight, at Mercy’s call Divine
To distant worlds that undiscovered shine;
Full on her tablet flings its living rays
And all, combined, with blest effulgence blaze.234
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
with new publications that I have at length learnt a
frugal lesson—that of bridling nay curiosity, which, though
often the handmaid of science, is as often the companion
of folly. From the little acquaintance, however, I had
with you, I conceived I should not be disappointed in
the present case, and therefore sent for a copy, which
I received the day after I got yours.
‘ Scaleby Castle came often into my mind as I read
it; which, though in some degree faded, is still a well-
coloured picture in my memory. The old mansion frown-
ing through the trees—once the calm scene of many a simple
sport—the hollow tower—the hospitable	dusky
furniture—the garden's desert path—the martin's old
hereditary nest—are all ideas familiar to me : starting to
life and whispering of the past.
‘ I believe I did not tell you why Mrs. Gilpin’s recol-
lection and mine presented Scaleby Castle to us in such
different colours. It was equally familiar to us both in
our youth. But I knew it chiefly in its cheerful days.
She was a witness of its distressed state, when an uncle
of ours, the possessor of it, through mere imprudence
(cause enough, you will say) but without any vicious
propensity, became an unhappy, embarrassed man, and
was obliged to sell it.
£ I cannot conclude my letter without saying I think
the artist who has adorned your volume is a very con-
siderable master both of picturesque composition and
expression.
‘ Mrs. Gilpin desires me to add her best respects to
those of, dear sir,
‘ Your most obedient and obliged humble servant,
‘ Will. Gilpin.’OTHER CRITICISMS
235
One criticism on the poem which gave Rogers un-
failing amusement appeared in the English Review, in the
notice of the fifth edition. The writer quotes the lines
describing the Gipsy, beginning ‘ Down by yon hazel
copse at evening blazed,’ with the approving statement
that ‘ Cowper’s Gipsy is not portrayed in livelier
colours.’ He then marks the alliterations in the passage,
and adds: ‘We have no objection to alliteration, but
this writer is too fond of it.’ In a note on this subject
of alliteration the reviewer says: ‘ The second part
opens with these lines—
Sweet Memory, wafted by thy gentle gale
Oft up the £ide of time I turn my sail.
Allured by the alliteration we are almost tempted to turn
our tail.’
The extracts I have given from the poem in the notes
to Dr. Parr’s letter will sufficiently exhibit its character
to readers who may, as yet, be unfamiliar with it. Mr.
Hayward, one of the most genial and generous of Rogers’s
later critics, thinks there is no reason for surprise at its
immediate success. It struck, he says, into the happy
medium between the precise and conventional style and
the free and natural one. Rogers’s only formidable
competitor wTas Cowper. Crabbe’s fame was then limited,
Darwin never had much, and Burns was little known.
Mr. Hayward points out with great force the absence
from the poem of any passages which cling to the
memory, which haunt and startle and waylay. Although
it has long taken its place as an English classic, he says,
none of its mellifluous verses or polished images are236
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
freshly remembered like the ‘ coming events cast their
shadows before ’ of Campbell, or Scott’s ‘ Oh, woman, in
our hours of ease! ’ or Moore’s ‘ Oh, ever thus from
childhood’s hour ! ' or Byron’s ‘ He who hath bent him
o’er the dead,’ or Wordsworth’s
Creature not too bright and good
For Human Nature’s daily food.
In spite, however, of this shrewd and just criticism, I
must point out that there are many expressions borrowed
from Rogers’s ‘ Pleasures of Memory ’ which have passed
into literature, though their original source may be
forgotten. The ‘ treasured tales of legendary lore,’ the
‘ dreams of innocent repose,’ the admirable line—
And the heart promised wliat the fancy drew ;
and the further line—
And breathe the soul of inspiration round ;
are illustrations from the first page or two of expressions
which have passed into common use. The lines—151 to
1 56—which commemorate the virtues of Dr. Price and
other of Rogers’s early teachers have a familiar sound
to readers who know not whence they come—
Guides of my life ! Instructors of my youth !
Who first unveiled the hallowed form of Truth !
Whose every word enlightened and endeared ;
I11 age beloved, in poverty revered ;
In Friendship’s silent register ye live,
Nor ask the vain memorial Art can give.
Mr. Hayward says that in the passage beginning—
So Scotia’s Queen, as slowly dawned the day,
Rose on her couch and gazed her soul away—ME. HAYWARD ON ROGERS
237
Rogers lias never been excelled in the art of blending
fancy and feeling with historic incident and philosophical
reflection. Mackintosh thought the closing lines of £ The
Pleasures of Memory ’ equal to those of ‘ The Dunciad,’
which Mr. Hayward says is like comparing Virgil's
‘ Apostrophe to Marcellus ’ with Homer's £ Battle of the
Gods.’ He quotes the lines—
All! who can tell the triumphs of the mind
By truth illumined, and by taste refined ?
When age has quenched the eye, and closed the ear,
Still nerved for action in her native sphere,
Oft will she rise—with searching glance pursue
Some long loved image vanished from her view ;
Dart thro’ the deep recesses of the Past,
O’er dusky forms in chains of slumber cast;
With giant-grasp fling back the folds of night,
And snatch the faithless fugitive to light.
So through the grove the impatient mother flies,
Each sunless glade, each secret pathway tries;
Till the thin leaves the truant boy disclose,
Long on the wood-moss stretched in sweet repose.
He asks why verses like these have failed to lay fast
and durable hold of the public imagination, and thinks
the answer is that the linked sweetness is too long and
elaborately drawn out, and that the very symmetry and
artistic finish of a production may militate against its
general popularity. But this criticism begs the question.
Mr. Hayward did not know how largely £ The Pleasures
of Memory ’ was circulated in the generation to which
it was first addressed. It did attain general popularity.
It is now a classic—and classics are almost always for
the few. Rogers’s poems are poems of taste and culture.*238
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
They are adapted rather to smooth the raven down of
darkness till it smiles, than to stir the blood and nerve
the arm and set the soul on fire. Madame d’Arblay
accidentally uses the fit expression with respect to ‘ The
Pleasures of Memory ’ when she describes it as ‘ that
most sweet poem.’ It rendered literature, as Mr. Hay-
ward says, an ‘ invaluable service by its purity of language
and chasteness of tone—which immediately became the
objects of improving imitation and elevating rivalry.’239
CHAPTER VIII.
Diary of literary visits, parties, etc.—Dinners with Parr, Cumberland —
Fox, Sheridan, and Pamela, at Stone’s—K. Sharp—Summer journey
to New Forest, etc.—Gilpin—Meetings of Club—Cooper, Priestley,
Tuffin, Stothard, Franklin, etc.—Eumelean Club—Arthur Murphy—
His stories of Foote and Garrick.
The success of ‘ The Pleasures of Memory,' gave Rogers
at once a high position in the literary society of the time.
He soon begins to be spoken of by contemporaries as
1 the poet Rogers,’ or as ‘ Mr. Rogers, the admired poet.’
His society was sought; and wherever he went he was
pointed out as the author of the poem everybody was
reading. This was just the kind of fame for which he
longed. He had found the direction in which his strength
lay. It was not in the noise and hurry of dithyrambic
odes, but in smooth and polished versification ; not in
bursts of passion or in great flights of bold imagination,
but in graceful elegance of movement and restrained
feeling, that he was able to excel his contemporaries.
The time, moreover, was singularly fortunate. The most
barren era of English poetry was just drawing to its
close. The laureatesliip which Spenser had adorned in
the sixteenth century, and Ben Jonson and Dryden in
the seventeenth, had fallen in the eighteenth to Colley
Cibber and William Whitehead and Henry James Pye,240
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
ancl through the whole century never rose above the
level of Pye’s immediate predecessor, the Rev. Thomas
Warton who had just succeeded to Whitehead when
Rogers’s first poem came out. It was true that Gray
had declined it in 1757 and Mason in 1785 ; as Rogers
himself was destined to do in 1850. But Gray had
been in his grave in Stoke Poges churchyard for more
than twenty years, and Mason was chiefly known as
his biographer, when ‘ The Pleasures of Memory ’ ap-
peared. Cowper—who divides with Rogers the true
poetical chieftainship of the times, but whose popularity
was never as great among the cultivated classes as that
of Rogers—was out of society, cowering in the gloom of
religious melancholy. It is only possible to understand
the high position which the success of this comparatively
short poem gave to Rogers when we recollect that he
was educated in the eighteenth century, but in the midst
of the men by whom and the influences by which the
nineteenth century was moulded; and that he wrote the
poem by which he was best known in later times before
the Lake School had risen, or Scott had been heard of,
or Tennyson was born.
It is quite possible that the title of the poem—‘ The
Pleasures of Memory ’—was suggested by Akenside’s
‘ Pleasures of Imagination ; ’ and it is quite certain that
the success of Rogers’s poem suggested to Campbell his
‘ Pleasures of Hope.’ There were the usual inquiries
as to its authorship, and in those days it was a surprise
to be told that the new poet was a young banker in the
City. When Lord Eldon, then Sir John Scott, was told
of it, he exclaimed: * If Old Gozzy ’— head of the firm ofDIARY IN 1792
241
Goslings, with whom he banked—‘ even so much as says
a good thing, let alone writing, I will close my account
with him the next morning." Neither the partners nor
the customers of the firm of which Rogers was the
youngest member had this feeling. His father’s letters
are full of matters of business, all of which he seems to
have entrusted to his poetic son without the least fear
that his pursuit of poetry, as the happy occupation of his
w7ell-earned leisure, would in any way interfere with his
application to business. The best business man is per-
haps the one who thinks least about it and gets farthest
away from it when business is over.
In these early days of his fame he kept a diary of
his occasional visits to literary people and conversations
with them. The habit was unfortunately not continued
long; but as in the records of his Edinburgh visit,
and his conversation at Miss Williams’s, so in the diary
for 1792 and 1793 we catch glimpses of interesting and
sometimes of eminent persons.
‘ 1792.—Paid two visits at Streatham this winter.
Walked back to London the first time with Lysons, who
said Lord Orford would never go to Houghton, as it
would remind him of the sale of the pictures. The last
time saw Miss Harriet Lee and Mr. Ray, a very sensible
and engaging man. Danced a blind minuet with Cecilia,
and footed another with her mother. Mrs. Piozzi read
me an opera called 4 The Fountains ’ in blank verse inter-
spersed with songs. Scene Dovedale. It contained some
touching sentiments, particularly a line in a woman’s
mouth—
For independent only means forlorn.
R242
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
‘ In January dined at Dilly's with Parr, Cumberland,
Hoole, Beed, Priestley, etc.
‘ Parr : “I have written a Latin epitaph for Johnson,
and the knowing ones will he taken in. They expect it
to be pompous, as it is written for Pomposo, and by
Pomposo the Second.” He mentioned tang ere as un-
elassically used in Goldsmith’s epitaph, and thundered
against the round-robin addressed to Johnson to per-
suade him to write it in English. He was shocked to see
Tom Warton’s name in so Gothic a business. Speaking of
a lie against Watson’s charge : “It was begot by Preju-
dice on Ignorance, and Malice was its godfather.” He
spoke very contemptuously of Dr. Ash.
‘ Cumberland spoke of his grandfather Bentley as
gentle and fond of children. He would never count
money but desired it always to be placed in piles of
twenty guineas on the table, and he would run his hand
over them to feel that they were all of a height. When a
thief was arrested in his pantry, he (Bentley) said : “ You
see you can’t succeed in this trade, go and try a better.”
When remonstrated with for dismissing him he said
mildly: “What more should be done with the fellow?
He has failed so egregiously in this instance he will never
think of thieving again.” Just before he died, his wife
said : “ I wish you had harassed yourself less with criti-
cism and controversy, and written more on other sub-
jects.” He sat musing for a little while, and then burst
into tears.
£ Somebody mentioned Griffiths, editor of the Monthly
Review. Cumberland said he did not envy him his place,
it was like the keeper of a bridewell. Cumberland hasPARR AND CUMBERLAND
243
often found it a House of Correction. Tweddell said
if he had a new comedy he should sit in the pit. “ No,”
said Cumberland, “ sit in the green-room, and now and
then take a peep between the scenes to feel the pulse of
the house. If it is in good humour, well; if not—why
take a walk ! ”
‘ Parr was afterwards in a rage with Cumberland.
“Why did Hilly ask me to meet such a scoundrel ? He
shall tell me who I am to meet next time. To tell
Priestley that to attack him was to attack philosophy,
and when his back was turned to abuse him as a fire-
brand, an innovator, and a disturber! Hid the fellow
think I should forget his words ? And then to bring up
his Epic Poem. How could I tell it was his ? I might
have found fault with every line of it.” 1
‘ I desired Hilly afterwards to give Hoole and Cumber-
land my poem. Hoole wrote a civil note.2 * Cumberland
called to thank me and tell me of its faults—-faults
which he himself had committed, and which he hoped I
would hear from an old writer—“ too rich, and too much
alliteration,” and “ the story too obscure.” He after-
wards sent me “ Calvary.”
1	William Maltby was at this party, and Dr. Parr met him a few days
afterwards and let oh his anger at Cumberland’s treatment of Priestley
in similar terms to those recorded by Rogers. ‘ Only to think of Mr.
Cumberland, that he should have presumed to talk before me, before me,
sir, in such terms of my friend Dr. Priestley. Pray, sir, let Mr. Dilly know
my opinion of Mr. Cumberland—that his ignorance is only equalled by his
impertinence, and that both are exceeded by his malice.’—Mr. Dyce’s
Porsoniana, p. 314.
2	The note is among Rogers’s letters. It is dated from 28 Pall Mall
and expresses 4 the great pleasure he has received from the perusal of
his elegant performance, which has given pleasure to all Mr. Ploole’s
friends who have seen it.’244
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
‘ At Tuffin’s, in the winter, met Romney, Horne Tooke,
and Priestley. Romney very animated at times. Speak-
ing of Pitt—“ That man,” said he, “has a nose turned up
at all mankind.” Of Horne Tooke he said : “His brain
has starved his nose.” Spoke of Hayley’s agitation at
the acting of Eudoxa : “I thought I should have sunk, ”
said he, “ I did not dare to look at him.”
‘ The next day with Sharpe and Tuffin ; saw Banks’ s
statues, called at Romney’s and saw him, and also saw
Towneley’s collection; and dined at the Grecian.
‘ In the autumn of last year Dr. Priestley, Dr. Kippis,
Dr. Moore, Mr. Merry, Captain Brown, Major Montfort,
Mr. Sharpe, and Captain Moore dined with me. When I
published my poem Merry wrote me a very flattering
letter, and I dined with him and his wife. He is Count of
the Holy Roman Empire, which the Abbe Grenet procured
for him. It cost ten guineas, and his patent of creation
hangs in a frame in his parlour. He mentioned Sir
James Murray, who by twelve questions could get at
your thoughts.
‘ In February, passed the evening at Stone’s with
Fox, Sheridan, O’Brien, the Bishop of Autun, Madame
de Sillery, Pamela—supposed to be her daughter—
Adele Princess of Orleans, and Henriette, her niece.
Fox said: “All titles are equally ridiculous. I believe
Hume wrote up the Stuarts from a spirit of opposition,
because it was the fashion to write them down.” He
spoke French fluently; said his son (who is dumb)
had ideas before lie had words, talked to him with his
fingers, and when he first entered the room flew to re-
ceive him with the most lively pleasure. In conversationFOX, SHERIDAN, AND PAMELA
245
his (Fox’s) countenance brightens, and his voice as-
sumes a pleasant tone. Dr. Priestley said afterwards
he was improved in manners since he saw him at Shel-
burne House ten years ago, when he spat on the carpet
and hurt Lord Shelburne, wTho is a man of great neat-
ness. “ Charles," said Sheridan, “ have you read Parr’s
letter?” “I read it last week,” said Fox. “Charles,”
said Sheridan, “ received a long letter from Parr, to
dissuade him from moving for the repeal of the Test
Act. But as he began with not requiring him to answer
it Charles thought he would go a step farther and not
read it.”
‘ Madame de Sillery has an air of vivacity. She said
Marmontel was an affected writer, of no taste or genius,
but cried up by a set of admirers in Paris. I mentioned
this afterwards to Blanchisserie, secretary to the Embassy,
an aristocrat. “ Tell her,” said he, “to write as well. Her
best works are her daughters.” They are fine women.
He owned afterwards that he thought himself slighted
by her. He has bought Sir Isaac Newton’s house in
St. Martin’s Lane, and intends to ornament the front.
Pamela excited Sheridan’s notice. (Mirabeau used to be
at her feet.) She has fine black eyes, and her skin is of
a dazzling whiteness, but Adele struck me more, having
more softness in look and manner. Her fine light hair
descended below her knees. She plays delightfully on
the harp. Pamela draws. Saw them afterwards at
the exhibition. Dr. Priestley said afterwards that he
had often heard Marmontel read his tales at Madame de
[? Seran’s] at Paris, where the literati met every Wed-
nesday evening, and that his action was so violent he was246
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
afraid of sitting near him. It was there also he heard
d’Alembert deliver his famous elocje on Voltaire.
‘ In March Dr. Aikin called upon me. On the 20th
of April dined with Paine at William Morgan’s, a silent
man, hut very strong and emphatic in his language.
The memory of Joshua was given as a toast. “ I would
not treat kings like Joshua,” 1 said Paine : “ I’m of the
Scotch parson’s opinion when he prayed against Louis
XIV.—‘ Lord, shake him over the mouth of hell, but don’t
let him drop ! ’ ” He gave in his turn “ The Republic
of the World ”—a sublime idea.
‘ On the 23rd dined with the Antiquarian Society.
Nothing occurred of moment. Sat by Lysons, and con-
versed with Marsh on Shakespeare. Townley, Dailies
Barrington,2 and Dr. Douglas, the bishop,3 were there.
‘ On the 24th dined at Sharpe’s with Porson, who read
Will Wliiston’s trial with some humour. On the 26th
with Lord Dacre at Edison’s, and attended the “ Friends
of the People ” at Freemasons’ Hall. On the 27th with
Dr. Aikin and Dr. Priestley at College dinner ; Dr. A.
thinks Moliere far superior to any comic writer in this
country.
‘ On the 28th of May dined with Dr. Bates and
Marsden and Major Montfort at Mr. Baper’s. Marsden
thinks our words derived from the Latin at second hand
through the French. Dr. Bates said that the fish caught
1	See Joshua, chaps, x., xi., xii.
2	The Hon. Dailies Barrington, fourth son of the first Lord Bar-
rington, a lawyer and an antiquary. He died in 1800.
3	Dr. John Douglas, then in his seventy-first year. He was made
bishop of Carlisle in 1787, translated to Salisbury in June, 1791, and
died in 1807.SUTTON SHAKPE
247
in the Italian seas were often boiled by being dropped
into the current of a warm spring some fathoms below
the surface, and mentioned a curious sacrifice to a saint
in Sicily.
‘ In June, dined at home with the Barbaulds and Dr.
Bates. Dr. B. had heard a celebrated singer sing an
ode of Anacreon at Angelica Kauffman’s at Rome. In
Sicily a lover must write an ode to his mistress before
she will listen to him.
‘Jane 21.—Set off for Salisbury Cathedral, Stone-
henge, "Wilton, Bryanston, Portland Quarries, Lulworth
Castle, Lulworth Cove, Corfe Castle, etc.; and met Sharp
at Southampton.’
This is the first clear mention of Richard Sharp.
The Sharpe named in the earlier portions of the diary
is Sutton Sharpe, of Nottingham Place, who afterwards
married Maria Rogers. Sutton Sharpe was then a
widower, living with his only daughter, Catharine Sharpe,
the heroic story of whose after-life I have told in another
volume,1 in which also Sutton Sharpe’s melancholy
history is briefly narrated. He was a man of much
taste and culture and at this time of considerable wealth
as a brewer. He had studied drawing at the Royal
Academy, and lived on terms of intimate friendship with
Opie, Shee, Stothard, Flaxman, Bewick, Holloway, and
others. At his house Rogers made the acquaintance of
these eminent artists, and learned that love of art which
distinguished him in after-life. Boddington, Richard
1 Samuel Sliarpe; Egyptologist and Translator of the Bible.248
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
Sharp’s partner, once remarked to Rogers in the hearing
or William Maltby : ‘ You know, Rogers, we owe all these
tastes to Sutton Sharpe ; ’ and Rogers himself, speaking
to Sutton Sharpe’s fourth son, the late Mr. William
Sharpe, said ‘ William, all I know of art I learned from
your father.’ A pencil drawing by Flaxman shows
Sutton Sharpe to have been a person of singularly noble
presence, though perhaps with more taste and sensibility
than resolution or energy. He was an intimate friend of
Porson, and among his frequent visitors were William
Maltby, Samuel Boddington, Richard Sharp, and Horne
Tooke.
The journey which is summarised in the last entry
taken from Rogers’s diary, is more fully described in
another of his journals, and the account is worth repro-
ducing as a sketch of southern England in the early
days of the French Revolution, and before the Napoleonic
wars.
‘ June 21, 1792.—Went in a post-coach from London
to Salisbury. The Cathedral is the lightest and most
elegant piece of Gothic extant. It is, indeed, so light as
to lose in some degree that grandeur which is attached
to magnitude. The spectator at first sight thinks he
could almost “hang it to his watch.” Not that the
masonry is so very curiously wrought—for in rich
filagree work York Minster and the Cathedral at Amiens
far excel it; but the style of its architecture is so beau-
tiful, and the whole is so happily put together and so
neatly finished, that for a moment we forget the sub-
lime simplicity of the Grecian school and pronounce it
to be perfection itself. When viewed from several partsTHE SOUTH OF ENGLAND IN 1792
249
of the close, it has a very pleasing and picturesque effect
through the trees.
‘ 2	2nd.—Eode nine miles across Salisbury Plain to
Stonehenge. At the sixth stone, or soon afterwards, it
presents itself on a small elevation. As we approach it,
it becomes an object of importance and is indeed most
interesting to a contemplative mind. When we consider
its great antiquity and the inexplicable mystery in which
its story is involved—its many barbarous purposes, among
which w7as most probably the sacrifice of human beings,
the sacrifice of Bomans; the shapeless masses that com-
pose it, their gigantic size and rude arrangement; and,
to close all, its solitary station in the desert, which unites
on all sides with the sky—we must acknowledge it to be a
very sublime and imposing piece of scenery. Proceeded
to Wilton. What I thought there most admirable were :
a Yenus extracting a thorn from her foot—her half-
closed eyelids are strikingly expressive of acute pain ;
the busts of Hannibal and Brutus—the last is evidently
a likeness, and its lineaments are sufficient alone to tell
his history, the face of a man who could stab his friend
to save his country; a statue of Bacchus with a cup in
his hand and poppies hanging from his shoulders; and
a bust of Sappho which is exquisitely beautiful. The
“ Assumption of the Virgin ” by Baphael, and a Madonna
by Carlo Dolci (her veil coloured with ultra-marine)
equal to any piece of that master, even to Domenichino's
portrait of his mistress, or the picture of ‘ Christ Blessing
the Elements ’ at Burleigh. Continued through an open
and hilly country to Dorchester. Mr. Portman’s walk
at Bryanston, near Blandford, gave me, however, some250
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
relief. It was along a very high green hank, near a
mile in length, in many parts perpendicular and hung
with noble firs and forest trees. The Stour winds below
it through the soft lawns of the Park, and then, skirting
the uplands on the opposite side, makes its exit with
the accompaniment of a little rock scenery. Dorchester
nearly encircled with a pleasant sycamore walk. Its
foundations are an inexhaustible mine of Boman anti-
quities. I left it in the evening, and soon ascending
Bidgway Hill (so called from a village that shelters
itself under it), was agreeably surprised at its summit
with a beautiful view of Weymouth Bay, and the Isle of
Portland rising with its mountainous ridge near the
entrance of it.
‘ 24 ,th.—Went to church, and heard a rustic band of
singers accompanied by the bassoon. In the evening
rode on the sands, the Corso of Weymouth; and after-
wards, from the brow of a little eminence that overlooks
Weymouth, saw Portland and the windings of the coast
as far as Lyme to great advantage. It is an evening-
view, and the setting sun had shed its richest hues
over it.
‘2yth.—Bode to Upwey, a retired village near
Bidgway, to visit a friend who had just chosen it as
a retreat from the bustle and glitter of Paris. It was
there that I saw him last and the contrast of the
present scene struck me forcibly. At dinner, however,
he regaled me with soup bouilli and an omelette; and
his parrot Jacquant, his dog Azor, and an old French
horse on which he exercised in the Bois de Boulogne are
still his favourite companions. Bode with him along aPORTLAND AND LULWORTH
251
noble terrace near a mile in length, and commanding
the sea, and the adjacent downs pastured with sheep and
swelling everywhere into tumuli. Within a few yards of
his garden, under a green hill and overshadowed with
aged trees, is the fountain-head of the river Wey.
‘ 28th.—Passed the ruins of Sandford Castle, which
are situated on the edge of a cliff, and when viewed
from a low point make a good picture. Ferried over to
Portland, ascended through several villages, crossed the
island, and came to a very romantic scene. The cliffs
were here very lofty, and formed a small semicircular
recess. Towards their summits they were partly hewn
into quarries, the white diagonal strata of which con-
trasted with the grey and rugged crags interspersed
among them. It was a busy scene. A team of horses
were continually ascending and descending by an
almost perpendicular path, and a boat was employed in
conveying the stone to a small vessel that lay moored
at the entrance. Above, on the extreme verge of the
precipice, were the ruins of an old church and of a still
older castle.
‘ 2gth.—Piode to East Lulworth, through a well-
cultivated country, the beauties of which were blurred
and almost blotted out by a wet mist that overspread
them. Lulworth Castle is very ancient and has an
air of great dignity. It consists of a quadrangle, with
a round tower at each corner, and the grey hue of its
stone finely chastens the fresh green of the trees in the
park around it. The village church has a very hand-
some tower, and stands just beside it. The effect of
the whole is beautiful, but some of the parts offend. A252
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
Grecian portico with Ionic pillars forms a singular
entrance to an old castle. The balustrade that runs
round it, and the Grecian portico are modern additions
and correspond but ill with the sullen grandeur of the
old structure. Proceeded to East Lulwortli Cove, a
small basin nearly encircled with high cliffs, which
affords a secure asylum to the little coasting vessels
that frequent it, and is, indeed, a very singular and
romantic scene. Proceeded over hills whitened with
sheep to Corfe Castle, the situation of which is high
and commanding. Two drawbridges and as many gate-
ways lead to the citadel, and its extensive walls give
ample testimony to its ancient consequence. One of its
round towers is fearfully inclined from its base and
overhangs a road that is already strewed with tremen-
dous fragments. A girl assured me that from her
infancy she had never passed it but at full speed.
From hence to Wimborne there is a chain of black and
melancholy heaths. Here and there, indeed, we were
relieved with a little woodland scenery, and on the
left we had an almost uninterrupted view of Poole
Harbour stretching across the country like some mag-
nificent river; the sea-gulls were flying over it, and its
banks were bare and desolate. Slept at Wimborne, and
saw the Minster, which has two square towers and is
very ancient. Entered the New Forest, which is at
first dreary and black with furze but improves beyond
Pdngwood, and at Stony Cross presents some grand
distances. The wood increased as we approached
Southampton, and the deer and other forest cattle
enlivened the scenery.THE ISLE OF WIGHT
253
In the evening rowed down to Netley Abbey. The
ground on which it stands is finely formed; and ivied
windows and fractured arches, and the daw and the owl,
excited nameless sensations. A door in a dark passage
half-intimidated my fellow-travellers. Returned by moon-
light, through its old woods catching delicious views of
the river ; ferried over the Itchen.
‘	Julyi st.—Sailed down the river by a fine breeze to
Cowes, breakfasted and proceeded in a chaise to New-
port. Went in another to Ashey Down,1 whence we saw
the Channel from the mouth of the Beaulieu river to
Portsmouth and along the Arundel coast. To Nun well
Down, commanding Brading Haven, running up the
island (now at low water.)	Shanklin Chine and
village, the first a rocky romantic glen that opens to
the sea and affords shelter to some hanging cottages—
the last a most retired rural spot, the ground charmingly
tumbled about and varied with little woods and dingles.
Passed .John Wilkes's, and dined at Steeple. The shore
is here finely broken and shut in by a semicircular
range of grey rocks that not very boldly but very pic-
turesquely overhang the village. Returned by Sir Rd.
Worsley’s, and from the Obelisk hill in the park com-
manded nearly the whole island. The general face of the
country was rich, varied with little hills and woods and
villages.
‘ July 2nd.—Had a pleasant view from a hill above
Newport commanding the course of the river towards
the sea. Walked along the banks to Hurst Stake, its
1 This part of the journey was taken in company with Richard
Sharp, whom he had met at Southampton.254
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
bold and beautiful twin. The succession of close wood
and high meadow, the cattle near the brink, the sails
gliding round the hills, the soft uplands on the opposite
side, and Newport church tower among the trees—these
were its principal beauties. Proceeded round Carisbrook
Castle, which rises on an elevated bank, and has some
dignity; had several grand reaches of the channel,
crossed Afton Down and from a field near Freshwater
had a foreshortened view of Yarmouth river—it was low
water. Sailed from Yarmouth to Lymington in forty
minutes, the prospect of the island and the mainland
very amusing. Lymington falls to the river ; the church-
window that looks down it, and the green meadows that
rise directly in front, make the perspective of its street
beautiful. From the Angel yard the river is seen wind-
ing among the trees in the valley below, and losing itself
in the forest. On the opposite side of the street, there
runs a pleasant lime-walk, commanding the Isle of Wight
and the Needles. The path to the baths has the same
view and lies through the fields.
‘ 3rd.—Rode to Hordle, and had a distant view of
Lord Bute’s. The coast here forms a grand semicircle
in full view of the Needles, but it is bare and desolate.
‘ 4 ,tli.—Rode to Ropehill and had a foreshortened
view of the river in its course through a rich valley to
the sea; a fine grove of trees formed the foreground.
Proceeded to Mr. Morant’s, and from the front of his
house were enchanted. Passed through Whitley Ridge
woods which are very fine and crossing Heathy Dilton ;
returned by Vicar’s Hill, from which we saw a very fine
and well-wooded bank of Sir H. Burrard’s.THE NEW FOREST
255
‘ $th.—Passed Vicar’s Hill and soon afterwards by
turning a little to the right saw a beautiful lake of Sir H.
Burrard’s, fringed with wood. Passed Doyley Park and
Pilewall; not a thing worth mentioning except the neat
cottage of a clergyman’s widow, shaded with willow-trees
and hung with jessamine ; and proceeded to Sooley (or
Sowley) Pond—that from the farthest end presents a fine
reach—but here the Channel on the right, and the moun-
tainous ridge of the Isle of Wight softened down by
distance, very maliciously arrested our attention. Be-
turned through Norley Wood, full of encroaching cottages
and now nearly felled, and descended to Boldre Bridge
that commands a beautiful home view of the river now
reduced to a humble brook and winding among the sedges.
Came home by Bope Hill.
‘ 6th.—Followed the same track to Sowlev Pond.
Passed a slitting mill, and at Bucklershard had a most
magnificent view of Beaulieu river sweeping boldly round
hanging woods, with the busy scene of a dockyard on its
shore. Dined at Beaulieu ; it was high water and the
lake above and below the bridge and the walk among old
oaks on the abbey side of the river detained us two
hours. Proceeded by the Fighting Cocks and through
the wild wood scenes ; passed over Culverley Heath, com-
manding a circular sweep of forest, very grand and ex-
tensive ; of Denny Walk, a very rich and secluded scene,
to the Lyndhurst road, which we entered at the sixth
stone—in the grand avenue that extends to Brocken-
hurst. Followed the turnpike road by Bope Hill to
Lymington.
‘ yth.—From Lymington turnpike, turned directly256
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
through a gate on the left, and after having ridden a
little among some woody scenes, traversed a cheerless
heath for many miles, leaving Wilverley Lodge, a lonely
and melancholy object, on the left, the Isle of Wight
visible on the horizon. At last from Burley Hill saw a
cultivated valley skirted with a chain of hanging woods.
Turned through a long narrow tract of shrubwood, and
crossing Markway bottom flat and marshy, in which the
cattle were well grouped near some water, ascended to
Bhinefield Lodge, which is seated among old oaks on a
circular knoll and commands noble views over the
wooded scenes of the forest. It is less rich and exten-
sive than the Burley view, less grand and simple than
Morant’s, but formed a noble station for a forest lodge.
The buckhounds sallied out at our approach and one of
the under-keepers led us into the Brockenhurst road ;
over a heath we proceeded to that village and there
entered the turnpike road from Lyndhurst to Lymington.
From Rope Hill there is a delightful mile, command-
ing the river in the valley with Vicar’s Hill, and Sir
H. Burrard’s plantations on the opposite heights; the
Channel and the Isle of Wight in the distance.
‘ 8th.—Rode by Rope Hill and over Boldre Bridge to
Boldre Church, which is seated on a hill and commands
pleasant views round it. Gilpin read the service and
preached: “ Commune with your own hearts.” His
manner was familiar and unaffected—his language simple
and correct. “ But, you say, it is now your custom to
swear—you may soon make it your custom not to swear.”
His figure apostolical, his head bald, a short man.
Several fine heads in the church, and the band of singersLYNDHUEST
257
full of rough harmony. Returned by Mr. Morant’s and
Brockenhurst and Battramsley.
In the front of Mr. Morant’s the lawn is skirted with
aged oaks and falls with a fine swell, into a wide unculti-
vated valley, beyond which rise the dark woods of the
forest, extending like a magnificent curtain to right and
left as far as the eye can reach.
‘	Julygth.—Rode by Boldre churchyard, in which
are two inscriptions written by the vicar.
£ July io th.—Went in a chaise through a beautiful
country to Lyndliurst. Proceeded on horseback by
Minstead, and through several woods full of lawns and
sudden declivities to Bramble Hill Lodge, seated on a
green hill—on the brow of which a herd of deer was
assembled. A long ridge runs far above it which com-
mands Mr. Gilpin’s celebrated view. The foreground
falls with a fine sweep, and discovers a grand extent of
forest-wood below, with Southampton and its river, in
which the mouth of the Itchen was very visible, and the
Channel and the Isle of Wight in the distance.
‘ At Lyndhurst is the King’s Lodge, and here gene-
rally resides the Ranger. His table is often during the
venison season furnished with twelve haunches that are
served up in succession; such are the refinements of
luxury. In a lawn near Whitley Ridge Lodge I saw a
forest girl with some lettuces in a basket. When dressed
with verjuice, the fermented juice of the crab-apple, they
were to furnish a dinner to a family with the humble
addition of oat-bread. It was only on a Sunday that
they could indulge themselves with meat! What a con-
trast !
s258
FARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL EOGERS
‘	July 11 th.—Rain.
‘ 12 th.—Rain.
‘ 13^.—The waters of the river above the bridge
were out, and it now presented the appearance of a noble
lake, fringed on every side with the trees that skirt the
uplands. Rode by Walhampton and Vicar’s Hill, and
returned over Boldre Bridge, where there was a ferry
for foot-passengers.
‘ 14th.—Rode in a chaise to Beaulieu, and proceeded
through Exbury woods, commanding a catch of the river
and Bucklershard, and a noble view of its course from
the sea into the forest. Its shores were wild and well-
wooded, and gave the idea of an unexplored and un-
inhabited country. Rode along the sea-shore opposite
the Isle of Wight and turned off to Cadlands : the lawn
beautiful, the garden towards the river very inferior,
but the situation and ground admirable. From hence to
Dibden, exquisitely fine. Stobland Common and Butt’s
Ash Farm particularly delightful. At Dibden met the
chaise and returned by Totton along the Lyndhurst
road.
‘ 15 th.—Rode to Boldre and heard Gilpin. “ There-
fore, my beloved brethren, cleanse yourselves from all
filthiness,” &c.
‘ 16th.— Proceeded through the forest to Southamp-
ton ; a sultry day, concluded with a thunderstorm.
‘ 1 yth.—Came by Botley, Titclifield, and Fareliam to
Gosport, twenty-five miles. The country rich and well-
wooded, exhibiting several beautiful distances on the
left, and on the right once or twice a noble catch of
Southampton Water. Titclifield Abbey is a venerable,PORTSMOUTH AND CHICHESTER
259
square, castle-like mansion, with an octagon tower at
each corner. Its offices and gateways are in a similar
style, and its elevated position, when viewed from some
points, gives it an air of dignity. From Fareham Common
had a lengthened and broken view of the Channel and its
shipping, with the Isle of Wight beyond it. The fore-
ground was rich and woody and the multitude of masts
that rose in some parts above the trees had a singular
effect. Ferried over and walked on Portsmouth ramparts,
which nearly encircle the town, commanding the Isle of
Wight, here variegated with woods. Walked there again
in the evening. The green and leafy island in front, and
the busy vessels in the offing, were finely made out by
the evening sun. On the left, seated on the extreme edge
of a promontory, lay a castle, the whole of which was in
shadow, and the outline of its turrets and battlements
was distinctly marked. The general character of the
scene was softened, but now and then a transient gleam
of sunshine caught a white sail and called it out into the
landscape. It was the annual fair, and all was mirth
and mummery.
‘ i Sth.—Through a rich country, with woody dis-
tances on the left and frequent sea-views on the right,
proceeded to Chichester. The spire is almost equal to
that at Salisbury in point of elegance and lightness.
Passed through a beautiful country, the Goodwood plan-
tations festooning the woods on the left, and village spires
among the trees on the right. I turned aside to East-
ham, a very pleasant and retired village. In the church-
yard, which commands fields and woody hills, are three
epitaphs of Hayley’s. His shrubbery runs beside it, and260
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
lie has a walk that looks down into a deep and woody
valley, glen soon afterwards, and commands the rich
wealds of Sussex. Rode among woods to Arundel.
Passed a cricket match—the country people, in scarlet
cloaks and white waggoner’s frocks, forming an amusing
line along the field in which it was played. Saw Arun-
del Castle, the deep fosse, now a romantic glen full of
trees ; the round tower, a fragment mantled with a grand
mass of ivy; the castle-yard, skirted on one side by the
venerable gallery, &c., and on the other by the shell of
the chapel. In the chapel a fine head of Rubens, by
himself. The church ancient, with some old ivied walls
behind it.
‘ Rode among woods and over downs with frequent
views of the sea on the right to Worthing.’
When this pleasant summer journey was taken, ‘ The
Pleasures of Memory ’ wras just beginning to receive that
public recognition which soon made its author famous.
He speaks of Gilpin and Haylejq but he had not yet
made the personal acquaintance of either of them.
Gilpin was then old. He had been the guide of a whole
generation to the picturesque scenery of their own
country, and Rogers had probably travelled through the
New Forest with his volume in his hand. Hayley, too,
was then in the full enjoyment of his evanescent fame,
and Rogers had not yet heard through Mr. Cadell of that
approval which gave him so much pleasure and pride.
On his return to London—which was always early, in
order that his father might get away on his own long
summer holiday—he naturally found himself the objectDIAKY IN 1792
261
of increased interest. People were talking about him,
and liis poem was being praised in the reviews and was
selling fast. He did not allow himself to be much more
tempted into society, but continued as usual to spend
his days in the City, and his evenings chiefly in his Stoke
Newington home. He was already contemplating his
next poem, or at least laying up the material for it. A
few pages of his diary record his social experiences
during the next eighteen months.
‘ August 11 tli.—Bode to Sevenoaks with Sharp and
Cooper; saw Knole and worshipped a statue of Demos-
thenes. West told Sharp : “ I never showed a young
artist a picture he liked but he asked me where I bought
my colours; and Sir Joshua said a picture never pleased
him till after he had laboured at it again and again.”
‘ August 13th.—Dined at Tuffin’s with Cooper, Tooke,
Dr. Priestley, Dr. Crawford, etc. Politics. Whether man
has any natural right to property, and a free government
is friendly to the Arts ; decided in the affirmative.
‘August 15 tli.—Dr. Priestley, Dr. Aikin, Cooper,
Fell, etc., dined at the Green. Dr. Priestley said De
Luc, when in London, said he knew it better than
Priestley (though Priestley lived there) and he would be
his guide. “ He took me,” said Priestley, “ to the Old
Bailey, the only time I was ever there, and bade me
observe the criminals at the bar. ‘ Did you ever,' said
he, ‘ meet elsewhere with the same lines of character ?
An English blackguard is not to be found out of Eng-
land : insolent and brutal—with a trait of generosity.
I was once walking in the street with Mr. Howard,262
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
when a baker dropped some pies and he damned their
souls to eternity ! ’ ” Mentioned a singular escape he
had in his laboratory at Warrington, and another he ex-
perienced that very morning. The American Indians
must he exterminated; cannot be civilised. America
not peopled a thousand years ago. Man created long
after other animals—few human bones in a fossil state;
many animal bones. Coal is vegetable in a decayed state,
and must be exhausted in time. Cooper said America was
not in being a thousand years ago. Aikin and Priestley
said it must have been. Cooper replied that an island
might be raised in a night with a mountain on it.
Priestley: “ But not with the Andes on it ! ” Cooper
said : “ Those are European experiments—America works
on a grander scale.”
‘ November 6th.—First meeting of the Club. Argument
between Aikin and Sharpe on the principles of Beauty.
A. maintained that the Greeks were inferior in their
combinations to nature. S. said that statuary could
soar above her by selecting and proportioning her best
features.
‘ November 13th.—Dined at Sharpe’s and met Bodding-
ton and Stothard. Stothard said : “ If the Pantheon were
in London I think I should be a happier man. I often
take an evening walk in the park in summer to observe
the figures, and at a distance they portion themselves
into those bold simple forms that were the delight of
the Grecian artists.”
* November igth.—Drank tea at Dr. Garshore's. Pre-
sent : Dr. Gillies, Dr. Bates, Mr. Planta, Dr. Ivippis,
Mr. Parsons, Major Bunnell, Mr. Marsden, etc. TalkedDIARY IN 1792
263
politics with Gillies, who said he should publish Aristotle’s
political works with a commentary.
4	November24	th.— Dined at W. Vaughan’s, with
Priestley, B. Vaughan, Aikin, Christie, etc. A. gave a
good motto for a Peerage Book—
The air hath bubbles as the water hath,
And these are of them.
4 27th.—Second meeting of Club. Dispute respecting
Capital Punishments. The objects of punishment are to
deter by example, to reform the offender, and contrive
that he should make reparation to society for the injury
he has done her. The two last cannot be attained by
capital punishments.
4 4 4 A case occurs,” says Sharp, 44in which the first—-
and most important—cannot be accomplished without
them : A soldier runs away; the influence of fear in that
man is irresistible—it overcomes the sense of shame.
As you cannot restrain it you must make it subservient
to your own purposes. Pie flies to escape the chance of
dying : make certainty of death the consequence of his
flight.”
4 December 2nd.—Eode to Streatham and slept there.
Present: Mr. and Mrs. Broadhead.
4 7th.—Dined at the Atlienseum Club. Introduced by
Sharp. Present : Murphy, Carr, Ogle, Blake, Parsons,
etc. Murphy very rancorous on politics. Said the
old English writers had great strength, such as Hooker,
etc.—but they all wrote according to the Latin Syntax.
Then came a new set — Temple, Dryden, etc. — who
were grounded on the English Syntax. Dr. Johnson264
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
returned to the Latin, and so did the Scotch except
Robertson. Spoke with enthusiasm of Garrick: “Were
he to act to-night none of you would have been here ! ”
said he. “ He had his faults as a man, but on the stage
he was a demi-god. Prior and Swift would have made a
Fontaine between them. Swift approached near to him.”
‘ i 8th.-—Third night of the Club. Was at Paine’s trial,
and heard Erskine.
‘ 19th.—Saw Stothard at Sharpe’s, who said Dr. Bates
had tried to purchase the Temple at Tivoli and trans-
port it to England.
‘ 29 th.—At Parndon met James Martin and Jackson
Barwis. Mrs. Martin had met and conversed with
Mrs. Armstead (Fox’s chere amie, and originally Mrs.
Abbington’s maid) unknowingly at Hastings’s trial, and
thought her a charming woman. Said that Boehm,
the traveller, once left his hat as a pledge at a barrier in
Sweden in consequence of a wrangle about a fee, and
that he walked without a hat through the country, re-
solving not to purchase another where he had been so
imposed upon.
1793, ‘January 14th.—Dined at McMurdo’s, with
Hinkley and Dr. Priestley. The dialogue turned on
distressing situations. Dr. Priestley remarked that Dr.
Franklin said of Dibbs: “If that man is not damned
the devil’s kept for nothing ! ”
‘ January 15th.—Mr. Paper dined at Newington Green.
Said that the Jesuits at Macao, when they took their
siesta after dinner, held an ivory ball in their hands and
a brass basin between their feet; that the instant the
ball dropped the noise wakened them, that they thenDIARY IN 1793
265
knew they had slept, and held one wink of sleep to be
sufficient refreshment; that when a European visited a
great man at Canton he often walked in in his waistcoat—
a servant carrying behind him his coat, hat, and sword;
and that was considered a visit of ceremony.
‘ February jib.—Went to the Club and met Priestley,
Cooper, etc. Cooper, speaking of Louis’s execution, said
he died well enough.
4 February 9 th ;Sunday.—Went with Sharp, Cooper,
Tuffin, and Weston to Stothard’s; and afterwards to
Romney’s. Saw him and his statues and pictures; a
warm democrat, and his gallery full of beauty—Mrs.
Tickell, Lady E. Fitzgerald, Mrs. Siddons, Lady Hamil-
ton, etc. Afterwards walked to the Park and saw the line
of carriages. Sharpe told Lady Hamilton’s history—
Joseph Boydell’s cook, afterwards Greville’s mistress—
the masquerade scene : 44 What’s the matter, Greville ?
Not well ? I know what it is ; ” threw the dress on the fire ;
her vow to Sir William not to be his wife till he had
educated her. Dined at the Grecian : Politics, the arts,
travelling, picturesque beauty, etc.
4 . . . Dined at Sharpe’s. Dr. Aikin said that when a
Hungarian officer came to London with a letter of recom-
mendation to Mr. Howard, Howard walked the streets
with him ; and his first exclamation on seeing the wealth
and comfort around him was: 44 What a fine city to
plunder ! ”
4 May 3 i'd.—Danced at Smith’s ball.
4 May 6th.—Was introduced by Dr. Gillies to the
Athenian. Present: Dr. Bancroft, Dr. Gillies, Dr. Grif-
fiths, Dr. Franklin’s grandson, and myself. Dr. Franklin266
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
used to say that when a tradesman was tired of business,
he left off and went into the country to retire.
£ December gth.—Dr. Priestley at the Hackney Club :
“ When I was dining at Paris fifteen years ago at Turgot’s
table, M. de Cliatelleux—author of ‘ Travels through
America ’—in answer to an inquiry said that the two
gentlemen opposite to me were the Bishop of Aix and
the Archbishop of Toulouse ; ‘ but,’ said he, ‘ they are no
more believers than you or I.’1 * * I assured him I was a
believer ; hut he would not believe me ; and Le Boi, the
philosopher, told me that I was the only man of sense he
knew that was a Christian. A young man of family called
upon me and said, with tears of joy in his eyes, that he
heard I was a believer. ‘ Yes,’ said I; ‘ but I am a great
heretic, not such a believer as you.’ ‘ Still,’ said he, ‘ you
are a believer.’ ”
‘ Dr. Franklin’s receipt for a verdict in your favour :
“ Have reason on your side, procure an eloquent attorney
to state it, an impartial judge to try it; and then, if you
have great luck, you may gain your cause.” Franklin
said a man once came into the country where he lived
who asked—“What ! do you bury lawyers ? We place
them in an armchair at the top of the stairs, and they
are always gone before morning—the devil takes them.”
‘ A Spanish judge satisfied everybody with his sen-
tences : his son who succeeded him satisfied nobody.
“What did you do, father ? I read their cases with all
possible care.” “ I did no such thing. I received their
1 The story is told in Mr. Dyce’s 4 Table Talk,’ but the fact that the
two gentlemen were eminent ecclesiastics—the point of the story—is
omitted.DIARY IN 1793
267
papers till each party was tired of sending them in. I
then piled them in my pair of scales, and the heaviest
scale had it.” (Franklin.)
‘ When I [Priestley] was at Bowood the last Lord
Lyttelton, son of the author, called on me and was sur-
prised to find me a believer. “ You ascribe all things to a
cause,” said he ; “so far is reasonable, but what produced
that cause'? Why not sit down with things as we find
them ? ”
‘ An inn in Yorkshire had this sign : On one side a
smart young man with this inscription—“ I am going to
law.” On the other side the young man in rags—“ I’ve
gained my cause.”
‘ There was a sect at Philadelphia, Franklin says,
which believed that a violent death was a sure passport
to heaven, and many of them committed murder in
order to be hanged. One of these enthusiasts set off into
the fields early one morning with a determination to
shoot the first man he met. It proved to be a Quaker,
who saluted him so civilly that it disarmed him. He
met nobody else ; and, returning into the town, turned into
a billiard-room where some persons were at play. There
he stood for some time resting on his gun. At last one
of the players struck the ball into the pocket: “ That was
a good aim,” said his antagonist. “ But this is abetter,”
said the enthusiast, as he raised his gun and shot him
dead. The astonishment of the company was great, as
you may imagine. “Poor man!” said the enthusiast,
taking the dead man by the hand—“ I meant you no
harm.” He declared his motive triumphantly, and was
hanged. “ And what steps did the Government take ? ”268
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
I asked Dr. Franklin. “Why,” said he, “ the sect was
very small, and it was thought better to hang them up
as they committed such crimes than to interfere publicly
to crush them.”
1 Dec. (no date).—Dined at Dilly’s with Reid, Pincker-
ton, Butler, Thomson, Boswell, Sharpe,1 and Tuffin.
1 Dec. igth.—Dined at the Eumelean. Murphy pre-
ferred Swift’s verses on his own death to all his other
poems and his polite conversation. Said that the theatres
charged an author one hundred and forty guineas for
the expenses of his night, and he was never charged in
Garrick’s time (when there ivere actors) more than seventy.
Said Johnson recited well, and would often at night leave
the house at Streatham, and, seating himself on one of the
garden seats and turning it on its pivot from the storm,
would roar and bellow Latin hexameters and English he-
roics for the hour together; that he would do the same at
Brighton in one of the machines, and could be heard at
Thrale’s on the cliff. Said the “ Confederacy ” was trans-
lated from a dull French play; that he and Tooke one
summer evening, after they had dined together, walked
along Oxford Street, and ordering a pot of porter at a
small alehouse they sat down on the bench before the
door. “ This is the grandeur of human life. Those
scoundrels in their carriages have no taste for happiness.”
Wrote Johnson’s “ Life ” at the “ Dog ” alehouse, near
Richmond Bridge, where I kept close for a month, and
hardly ever put on my shoes.’
Arthur Murphy, the biographer of Fielding and Gar-
1 Sliarpe is, in all cases, Sutton Sharpe ; Sharp is Bichard Sharp.ARTHUR MURPHY
269
rick, tlie friend and first biographer of Johnson—to whose
‘ talents, literature, and gentleman-like manners ’ Boswell
bears witness—formed with Rogers, as he had pre-
viously done with Johnson, a friendship which was never
broken. Rogers had first met him at the house of the
Piozzis. Murphy was then in poverty. He had spent the
wealth his popular plays—such as the ‘ Upholsterers,’ ‘All
in the Wrong,’ the ‘ Grecian Daughter,’ and ‘ Know your
own Mind ’—had brought him, and was living by mis-
cellaneous literary work. He was in debt everywhere. Like
§
Cumberland and others he soon began to borrow money of
Rogers, for which Rogers got nothing but dishonoured bills.
He had once lent him two hundred pounds; and, asking
Murphy when he meant to repay him, Murphy went back
with him to his chambers in the Temple and used all his
persuasive arts to induce Rogers to lend him more. At
a later time he assigned the stock and copyrights of his
works as security for a loan, when they had been already
sold to the bookseller. But he had no desire to deceive,
and made so humble an apology that he was easily for-
given. In 1803 a pension was given him, and he died in
1805, at the age of seventy-eight. Rogers always spoke
kindly of him, repeated his mot that the theatres were a
fourth estate of the realm ; and told to his credit that when
an actress with whom he had lived left him her money,
he gave it all up to her relations.
A few further scraps of Murphy’s conversation are
recorded by Rogers in his Commonplace Book :—
‘ “I should like to use that story of yours, Sheridan,
said Lord Lauderdale. “ Would you ? ” said Sheridan.270
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
“ Then I must be on my guard in future; for a joke in
your hands is no laughing matter.” Murphy considers
Cowley as Addison’s model. Thinks “ Boadicea,” by
Glover, is, in point of style, the best tragedy since Shake-
speare. It has a had fifth act. The opening of the
“Alchemist” is a model of dramatic writing for effect,
though never followed. Close your acts well, and have a
good fifth act, and your play must succeed. Also, always
give a counter turn, a surprise in the fifth, so that nobody
shall foresee the conclusion. Was first struck by Dry-
den’s criticisms on the “Silent Woman” in his preface
to his plays, and afterwards read it carefully with the
play. Had not then thought of the stage. Afterwards
read Ricciboni on Moliere, d’Alembert's “ Life of Des
Touches,” etc. Used to compose walking about Bagnigge
Wells and New River Head, and then call in at an alehouse
to write down a thought. Used to make three or four
chairs pass for his people on the stage, and would say
“ that chair has continued too long silent.” Kept a memo-
randum book for good things. When French died with-
out leaving him anything he said to himself: “ I have got
by him, however; ”—having put him into “ Sir Bashful
Constant ” and the “ Citizen.”
‘ Murphy had two inscriptions on the collar of his dog:—
‘ My name is Prince, of honest fame :
Let other Princes say the same.
‘ My name is Prince, from vice and debts I’m free ;
I want no Parliament to pay for me.
‘ “Am I not in Heaven ? ” said a girl at High Mass ?
“No, my dear,” said Murphy, “there are not so many
bishops in Heaven.” ’MURPHY’S STORIES OF FOOTE
271
Murphy was full of stories of Foote—some of which
Rogers has written down in his early memorandum
hook—
‘ “ Great as Foote was on the stage,” said Murphy,
“ he was greater in the green-room, and there I loved
to attend him. One night when I was there the last
Duke of Cumberland hurried in, saying: ‘ I come every
night to sw7allow all your good things.’ ‘ Do you ? ’ said
Foote ; ‘ you must have a damned good digestion, for you
never bring them up again.’ ”
‘ In his cause before Lord Mansfield, when Lord
Mansfield, who had continued firm on his side through-
out, was at last brought over to his opponent: “ Damn
the trial,” says he to Murphy, “ what a crane-necked turn
it has taken ! It has been tried twenty times at Caen
Wood, and gained the verdict in my favour.”
‘ When Foote proposed a venison feast at the “Crown
and Anchor ” to Murphy and Garrick, Dr. Sclionberg
and two other lawyers were engaged to it. None came
but Foote, Murphy, and Garrick. The bill came to three
guineas a head, and Foote wrote to the absentees for
their shares. When Foote paid his, the waiter said : “ This
is a bad shilling, sir.” “ Is it ? ” replied Foote, “ look at
it, Davy.” Garrick, who was half-tipsy, said it was and
threw it away. “ Do you change it for him ; ” said Foote,
“ you can make it go as far as anybody ! ”
‘ When a collection for the poor players was proposed
all but Garrick attended the meeting. “ He did set out,”
says Foote, “ but as he turned the corner of the Adelphi
he met the ghost of a shilling.”272
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
‘ When L-----, who had been sentenced to the pillory,
saw Foote in the pump room at Bath, whither he had
been ordered for the jaundice : “ Your looks mend,” says
L-----.	“ Yes,” says Foote, “ I am washing the eggs
from my face.”
‘ Murphy said: “I meant Foote in my character of
Dash wold, where I have used his	to the Duke
of Cumberland.”
‘ Murphy met Costello at Lord Camden’s. “ My wife
and I,” said Costello, “quarrelled, and we agreed to divide.
I said to her-—‘ I will take one side of the house and you
the other.’ I took the inside and she took the outside.” ’273
CHAPTER IX.
Death of Rogers’s Father — Richard Sharp — Rogers deciding on a
West-end life—R. Cumberland, R. Merry, T. Cooper—Priestley’s
exile—Horne Tooke’s Trial—William Stone’s Trial—Mrs. Siddons
and her epilogue—Dr. Moore—Early Correspondence with Richard
Sharp — Rogers’s Commonplace Book—Dr. Johnson and Dr. Priestley—
‘ My Club ’—Rogers and Polwhele.
The turning-point in Rogers’s life had now come. At
the beginning of his thirtieth year he had found himself
recognised as a popular poet, and had begun to enjoy
the kind of fame for which he longed. But no thought
of the social celebrity he was afterwards to attain had as
yet come into his mind. He was still the junior partner
in the bank, and day by day was occupied with its
business. He was on the unpopular side both in politics
and in religion ; and his prospects of wealth were remote.
‘ While his father lived,’ says Samuel Sharpe, ‘ Mr.
Rogers’s friends had been as much chosen for their politics
as for their literature,’ and in the diary quoted in the
previous chapter we find him frequently in the company
of some of the chief Liberal politicians of that exciting
and agitated time. The house at Stoke Newington
was one in which Liberal politicians and Liberal divines
—Whigs, latitudinarians, and Unitarians—found them-
selves at home. The elder Rogers was, in words which
came into use at a later day, ‘ a Whig and something
T274
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
more.’ Among the signatures to the celebrated Declara-
tion of the ‘ Society instituted for the purpose of obtain-
ing a Parliamentary Reform ’ under the title of ‘ Friends
of the People,’ that of Thomas Rogers comes imme-
diately before that of the Hon. Thomas Erskine, M.P.,
and Samuel Rogers directly follows on the Right Hon.
Lord John Russell, M.P. The names of John Towgood,
who had married Samuel Rogers’s eldest sister Martha,
and of his friends Dr. Kippis and Richard Sharp also
appear with those of Grey and Lambton and Sheridan
and Mackintosh and Whitbread, among the hundred
which constitute this illustrious catalogue. Dr. Priestley
had come to London in the autumn of 1791 ; and the
elder Rogers first, and his son afterwards, opened the
house at Newington Green to the persecuted philosopher
and divine. Thomas Rogers in one of his last letters to
his son expresses constant sympathy with the French,
hut writing on the 13th of September, 1792, about the sub-
scription for France which Horne Tooke and his friends
were getting up, he reasons conclusively against it, and
tells his son: ‘ I would wish you not to have anything
to do with it. It is of a piece with the rest of Horne
Tooke’s politics, which are more of the bravado than the
man of true wisdom.' This is not the criticism of an
opponent, but of a friend. It need not be taken to indi-
cate any difference between father and son. In politics,
as in religion and business, there seems to have been to
the last the fullest confidence and sympathy between
Thomas Rogers and his son Samuel. The beginning
of the year 1793, to which part of the diary given in
the previous chapter belongs, found Samuel Rogers stillDEATH OF HIS FATHER
275
living at Stoke Newington with his father, sisters, and
younger brother, without any thought of change or any
desire for it on his part or theirs.
This state of things might to all appearance have
lasted many years longer, and had it done so the world
might never have known Samuel Rogers as the munifi-
cent patron of art and literature he afterwards became.
But in the spring of 1793 his father was seized with a
fatal illness, and died on the 1st of June. Thomas
Rogers had not been a strong man, but his death in his
fifty-eighth year was premature. There are no references
to it in his son’s diaries, nor in the family letters. It
was the custom of the family to be silent on such events.
There are, however, in the poems two stanzas headed
‘Written in a Sick Chamber,’ and dated 1793, which
give the only account of his illness.
There in that bed so closely curtained round,
Worn to a shade, and wan with slow decay,
A father sleeps. Oh hushed be every sound,
Soft may we breathe the midnight hours away !
He stirs—yet still he sleeps. May heavenly dreams
Long o’er his smooth and settled pillow rise—
Nor fly, till morning through the shutter streams,
And on the hearth the glimmering rushlight dies!
It is a remarkable testimony to Samuel Rogers’s
business faculty that so excellent a man of business as
his father should have left him his own share in the bank
and his estates. Thomas Rogers’s will practically dis-
inherited his eldest son Daniel in favour of his third son
Samuel, who thus became head of the banking firm, and
practically head of the family. He now found himself276
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
in possession of about five thousand a year, partly derived
from estates and investments, but chiefly from the bank
in Freeman’s Court. This was a considerable fortune in
1793, and gave Rogers the opportunity which probably
woke the desire to live in the society of London. He
soon felt that its possession set him free to follow the
career to which—as he was not long in discovering—his
inclination, his social talents, and his ambition led him.
He had formed no definite plan. He probably found
that the residence at Stoke Newington was a hindrance
to the cultivation of the literary society in which he
delighted, and therefore, without breaking away from the
old home on the Green, he took chambers in Paper Build-
ings. The rooms had been previously occupied by Lord
Ellenborougli, and the range of buildings in which they
stood has since been pulled down and a new one erected
on the site. Rogers lived in these chambers between
six and seven years. During this period he became inti-
mate with many well-known persons, and particularly
with four men, of different types of character, who pro-
bably exerted the greatest influence on his life. These
were Fox, Sheridan, Tooke and Richard Sharp. Rogers
not only belonged to Fox’s school in politics, but was a
devoted admirer of the great Whig statesman and orator.
His ‘ Recollections ’ of Fox are among the most interest-
ing and valuable of the treasures his tenacious memory
has allowed him to preserve from oblivion, and to hand
down to posterity. His intimate association with the
Whig leaders for the first fifty years of this century
was begun by his acquaintance with Fox, if it may not
be said to have arisen out of it. With Sheridan hisRICHARD SHARP
277
*
connection was of another kind. The great orator and
dramatist became the recipient of much assistance from
the poet; who stood by him to the last when the great
world had left him to die in poverty and neglect.
Piichard Sharp was destined to become Rogers’s closest
and most intimate friend. He had much to do in making
Rogers’s life what it afterwards became, and had more
influence on his poetry, as well as on his character,
than any other of the friends of his maturer years.
This admirable and popular person was already widely
known among men of letters for that critical force which
made Mackintosh call him the best critic he knew, and
for those remarkable conversational powers to which he
afterwards owed his chief authority and fame. He was
born in Newfoundland in 1759, and was therefore about
four years older than Rogers. He had written in 1784
a very able essay on English style as a preface to a
grammar published by his old schoolmaster, the Rev.
•John Fell. He had been the intimate friend of Hen-
derson, the actor, and at his request had gone in 1785
—the year in which Henderson died—to see the new
*	Hamlet,’ whose provincial fame had preceded him to
London. In 1787 he read an admirable paper before
the Manchester Society : ‘ On the Nature and Utility of
Eloquence.’ He was a strong advocate of a simple
style as opposed to the prevalent Johnsonian pedantry.
*	Johnsonism,’ he said, ‘has become almost a general
disease; ’ and he laughed at ‘ Mr. B. and Hr. P. strut-
ting about in Johnson’s bulky clothes, as if a couple of
Lilliputians had bought their great coats at a rag-fair in
Brobdingnag.’ He contemplated, at a later period, theEARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
writing of a history of the establishment of ‘ American
Independence,’ and was encouraged to do so by his in-
timate friend, Mr. Adams, afterwards President of the
United States. He had fixed on the period between
1775 and 1783, but Mr. Adams assured him that those
were ‘ by no means the most important nor the most
interesting eight years of the Revolution, which had in
fact been effected, so far as the minds of the people were
concerned, in the period from 1761 to 1775.’ The design
of the history was abandoned, and Mr. Sharp is only
known to literature by a small volume of ‘ Letters and
Essays in Prose and Terse ’1 which he published towards
the close of his long and interesting life.
The acquaintance between Rogers and Richard Sharp
began in the spring of 1792. They were introduced to
each other by William Maltby, and soon became close
friends. Rogers always said that he did not know
Richard Sharp till after ‘ The Pleasures of Memory ’
was published, but in the July of the year in which the
poem appeared they travelled together in the Isle of
Wight. Richard Sharp’s first letter to Rogers is one
acknowledging the gift of the volume, and recommending
Rogers to read one of his favourite hooks, Usher’s ‘ Clio.’
It is the letter of a comparative stranger. Rogers wrote
to Maltby during their stay in the Isle of Wight in praise
of his new friend ; and Maltby, writing a letter of literary
gossip2 on the 13th of July 1792, concludes by asking to
1	This book was made the subject of a very laudatory article in the
Quarterly Revieiv in 1834, vol. li.
2	One item of the news is 4 that Mr. Gibbon is coming to England,
and brings with him a work prepared for the press ; the subject of it is
not yet known.’RICHARD SHARP
279
be remembered to Sharp, ‘ who deserves everything you
say of him, and can never be praised too much.’ This
was not merely the enthusiastic expression of an ad-
miring friend. It was a simple statement of the impres-
sion Richard Sharp produced on his contemporaries.
Mackintosh's biographer speaks of Richard Sharp as a
friend whose good opinion Sir James Mackintosh always
considered a sufficient counterbalance to any amount of
general misrepresentation, and Mackintosh himself said
that he never quitted him without feeling himself better,
and in better humour with the world. ‘ I owe much to
your society,’ says Mackintosh in a letter to Sharp in
January 1804.	‘ Your conversation has not only pleased
and instructed me, but it has most materially contributed
to refine my taste, to multiply my innocent and indepen-
dent pleasures, and to make my mind more tranquil and
reasonable. I think you have produced more effect on
my character than any man with whom I have lived.’1
Francis Horner, writing to Lady Mackintosh in 1805,
says: * Sharp I respect and love more and more every
day; he has every day new talents and new virtues to
show.'2 Sydney Smith, in a letter to Allen in 1809, says :
‘ Let the child learn principles from Dumont, Sharp
shall teach him ease and nature;'3 and Miss Caroline
Fox records in her diary in 1840 that John Mill spoke
with much interest of ‘ Conversation ’ Sharp, and said :
‘ It was a fine thing for me to hear him and my father
converse.’ These testimonies to his character and genius
1	Life of Sir James Mackintosh, vol. i. p. 196.
2	Life of Francis Horner, vol. i. p. 297.
3	Letters of Sydney Smith, p. 63.280
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
are borne out by the letters and statements of all his
friends—and his friends included nearly every distin-
guished author, statesman, and man of society for forty
years. His life has not been written, but his name is
prominent in most of the memoirs of men who lived in
the first thirty-five years of the present century. It is
an honour to Rogers that such a man should have been
his fast friend till death divided them.
At the time this friendship was first formed Richard
Sharp was in business in the City, and the letters to
him bear the address of Fish-street .Hill. He was al-
ready a figure in society, where his great conversational
powers and his unbounded goodness of heart made him
universally welcome. His judgment was trusted by all
who knew him, and in later years statesmen went to him
for counsel and advice. It would scarcely be too much
to say that he was the most popular man in London
society in his time. His familiar sobriquet of ‘ Conver-
sation ’ Sharp, indicated only his most striking faculty;
but his power of sympathy, his insight, his large reading
and culture, more forcibly impressed themselves on his
friends than even his conversational powers. He soon
perceived the social faculty of his friend Rogers, and, when
the death of his father left Rogers master of a fortune,
urged him to leave the distant suburb of Stoke Newing-
ton, and to establish himself in London. Rogers felt
the force of his friend’s reasoning, enforced as it was by
that friend’s example. There was an evident struggle
in his mind between the love of home and the love of
society, and he turned it into poetry as a poet should.
It was the origin of his next poem: * An Epistle to aRICHARD CUMBERLAND
281
Friend.’ But while writing this, which many regard as
the most finished and beautiful of his productions, he
took up his abode more and more in London. The
Epistle to a Friend ’ was the mental protest with which
he yielded to the social forces which pressed him to take
advantage of his fame; and he had done his six years
work upon it, completed it and published it, before he
finally gave up Stoke Newington, and made a solitary
home, first in his chambers in Paper Buildings, after-
wards in lodgings in Prince’s Street, Hanover Square, and
finally in the well-known house in St. James’s Place.
Some of Bogers’s literary friends had already dis-
covered his amiable willingness to help them by counsel,
or personal service, or money. There is an enthusiastic
letter from Richard Cumberland which, though without
date, may be mentioned here. It is written in the large
bold hand which well became Cumberland’s character.
Rogers had given him some pecuniary assistance, and the
old dramatist, in writing his thanks, finds it difficult to
moderate his gratitude. ‘Your bounty surprised me,’ he
says ; ‘ I hurried back on discovering its amount, resolved
for the moment to entreat you to moderate your benefac-
tion.’ On second thoughts, however, he kept the money,
lest his motive in returning it should be misunderstood;
and he declares his uniform and unalterable esteem
and love for his generous friend. The declaration was
no doubt sincere, and the esteem was mutual. Rogers
always spoke of Cumberland as a pleasant companion
and an excellent and entertaining talker. He was full of
recollections of the stage, especially of Garrick, whose
* Lear ’ Cumberland regarded as the greatest piece of282
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
acting he had seen. Rogers records that he linked with
this high praise Henderson’s ‘Falstaff’ and Cooke’s ‘Iago.’
Garrick said of Cumberland that he was a man without
a skin. Cumberland used to repeat Garrick’s advice to
him : ‘ Make your hero expected with impatience.’ He
told the story, too, of Garrick playing the water wagtail
on the lawn at Hampton, to the great delight of Cum-
berland’s children, £ as they stood round him one year
under another.’ Another of Cumberland’s remarks, put
on record in Rogers’s Commonplace Book, was of the
greatest possible benefit to Rogers : £ I hope it will be put
on my tomb,’ said Cumberland, ‘ “ Patron of the Flesh-
brush.” I have not caught cold since I used it.’ Rogers
took the hint and acted on it. In his later years he spoke
of the use of the fleshbrush as the art of living for ever, and
said he had learned it from Cumberland. The old play-
wright thus amply repaid Rogers’s kindness to him. He
had led a life of immense variety and adventure, but had
a grievance against the Government, and became some-
thing of a sycophant in his latter days.
There is a letter of this period from a friend of Robert
Merry’s, who, though utterly unknown to Rogers, makes
a pathetic appeal for help. Rogers sent him the money
he asked for. Robert Merry himself seems to have been
under similar obligations. It is, indeed, a striking
feature in the correspondence between Rogers and his
political and literary friends of three generations that
his readiness to do them all kinds of service is con-
stantly assumed and acted upon. Criticism of manu-
scripts, negotiations with publishers, advice on business
or travel, advances of money, are forms of help constantly"ROBERT MERRY
283
asked and as constantly given. There are several letters
from Robert Merry in the autumn of 1793 which show
both Rogers’s helpfulness and his political associations.
Merry left London in September to go to Geneva with
his wife and Charles Pigott—another of the men who
got pecuniary assistance from Rogers. At Harwich,
however, they heard so much of the difficulties and
dangers of travel in Holland and on the Rhine that they
turned back ; and Merry went to Scarborough, whence he
writes to Rogers on the 17th of October. He is as quiet
there, he says, as if he had gone among the Alps. He
has an excellent ready-furnislied abode, ‘ looking boldly
and bleakly to the sea,' for little more than a guinea a
week, though in the summer it lets for from ten to four-
teen. He promises Rogers if he will go down by the
Scarborough mail—‘ a good bed, a good fire, and capital
Yorkshire stingo.’ He is finishing his novel, and will
send it to Rogers for approval and to arrange with
Cadell, or any other bookseller, to bring it out. He asks
for all the news. ‘What is the situation of Toulon,
Lyons, La Vendee, Mauberge, and the Duke of York’s
army ? ’ He has had but two letters since he left
London, and both of them had been opened, so he is to
be addressed under cover to somebody else. Rogers is to
tell nobody that he is still in England. As no answer
came at once he wrote again, fearing that his letter had
been seized in the Post Office. In a third letter on the
8th of December he makes a political reference written
for the edification of Pitt’s Post Office spies :—‘ It is with
much sorrow that I find those licentious and abandoned
regicides, the French, have been of late successful. God'284
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
grant that the justice of our endeavours may meet with
its due reward ! ’ He is also ‘ much afflicted to discover
that even here a turbulent democratic spirit too much
prevails.’ On the 12th of December he writes again, to
enclose a little theatrical piece for Mr. Harris, of Covent
Garden theatre. He conceals his name as author—‘ not
to be exposed to Aristocratic Malice.’ He further de-
scribes the piece as the French play of ‘ Fenelon,’ reduced
to three acts. He urges Rogers to get it published if
Harris will not take it, but not to let the name of the
translator be known—‘ as the name of a Republican
would damn any performance at this time.’ ‘ If Hayley
is a furious democrat,’ he asks, ‘what must he the scale
of patriotism in this country ? ’ This letter had begun in
Della Cruscan style :—‘ If you knew the pleasure I receive
in reading your letters you would not he sparing of them.
They allure me from a boisterous sea of Politics to the
mild abode of Poetry and Peace. It is in solitude alone
we learn properly to estimate our comforts, and prove
how sweetly the voice of friendship breathing instruction
and delight, affects the soul. I, here, am tolerably se-
cluded from the world, and scarcely view a living creature
except the hovering sea-gull or the lonely cormorant
traversing the distant waves. Yet still am I troubled by
the Revolutionary Struggle; the great object of human
happiness is never long removed from my sight. 0
that I could sleep for two centuries like the youths of
Ephesus and then awake to a new order of things ! But
alas ! our existence must be passed amidst the storm ; the
fair season will be for posterity.’ Ten months later, on
the nth of October 1794, he writes in London—butCOOPER AND THE PRIESTLEY'S
285
giving his address as Post Office, Norwich—regretting
to have missed a talk with Rogers: ‘ on the existing
circumstances which seem to me,’ he says, ‘ to be ad-
vancing to some great catastrophe.’ As things stood lie
felt some inclination to go with Mrs. Merry to America,
asks Rogers to put him in the way how to proceed, and
promises to call shortly to replace a few pounds he
feared he had overdrawn at the bank. He and his wife
afterwards went to America, where he died in 1798.
Gifford’s ‘ Baviad,’ published in 1794, may have had
something to do with this resolution; but the ‘ aristo-
cratic malice ’ to which he referred in the year before its
issue,—meaning by that the disfavour and unpopularity
of advanced Liberal views in those days, and the personal
danger to those who held them,—was the predisposing
cause of his exile.
Two letters from Priestley’s friend, Thomas Cooper,
further illustrate the political characteristics of the times
and Rogers’s relation to political movements. Cooper
was a Manchester man who seems to have thought it
necessary to go where the expression of opinion was
freer than it was at that time in England. He had
dined with Rogers at the Stock Exchange just before
leaving London, and wrote to him from Beal about a com-
mission of Priestley’s 1 that he had forgotten. The letter
is dated Sunday, August the 24th, 1793, 5 o’clock; and
he says : ‘ I am not yet on board, but you may conclude
that the receipt of this letter at your house, ensures to
you my safe delivery on board ship.’ On the 14th of
1 Probably Joseph Priestley, son of the philosopher, who with his two
brothers was already settled in America.286
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
December he writes from Philadelphia : ‘ I will be at your
house in February or March: incog, like other great
men. Mention this, with strong injunctions of secrecy,
to Tuffin and Sharp. I wish the enclosed letters to be
duly and safely conveyed, and having to write to you to
send Russell his letter, I do not write to Tuffin or Sharp.
Russell, Priestley, and T. Walker (not R. Walker nor any
other of my friends or my family) know of my intention.
I hope to come over with a sufficient inducement for
others to return with me.’ This inducement was a
scheme which had been got up by Joseph Priestley,
Cooper himself, and some other English emigrants for
an English settlement in Pennsylvania, near the head
of the Susquehanna River. As there seemed to be some
likelihood that his sons might fix themselves there,
Dr. Priestley himself on his arrival in the United States,
went on from New York to Philadelphia, and thence a
hundred and thirty miles up the country to Northum-
berland. This was a small town at the confluence of the
east and west branches of the Susquehanna, and fifty
miles from the proposed settlement. The scheme had to
be abandoned ; but Dr. Priestley remained at Northum-
berland, where he died on the 6th of February 1804.
Merry’s opened letters and Cooper’s secrecy illustrate
the dangers of that martyr age of Reform. Dr. Priestley
himself left London in April, 1794, urged to do so by
numerous friends, who felt that he might at any moment
be seized as the next victim under the White Terror
which the frightful doings in France had conjured up
in England. Dr. Price had died in April, 1791 ; and
Dr. Priestley had succeeded him as preacher at HackneyPOLITICAL PROSECUTIONS
287
at the close of the year. Some account of conversations
in which Dr. Priestley, Cooper, and other Liberals took
part in the few years of his residence in London, has
already been given in extracts from Rogers’s diary in the
preceding chapter. After the iniquitous sentence of
seven years' transportation which had been passed on the
Rev. Thomas Fyshe Palmer, a Unitarian minister in
Dundee, it was felt that no Liberal was safe. A few poor
men in that town, imitating the influential body in
London, had formed a society of Friends of the People.
They prepared an address to their fellow-citizens to which
Mr. Palmer had given literary form. It is most moderate
in tone and just in sentiment; but Mr. Palmer was pro-
secuted for sedition, and at a trial in which the judge
allowed his religious opinions to be urged as grounds for
his condemnation on a political charge,was found guilty
and sentenced, and the sentence was rigorously carried
out. Dr. Priestley’s friends were naturally alarmed lest
he should fall a victim to the same malevolent tyranny,
and it seems probable that he was not too early in placing
himself beyond King George’s beneficent sway. It was
one of Rogers’s boasts that the exiled philosopher and
divine spent his last night in England under his roof.
Dr. Priestley had scarcely been gone six weeks when
two of Rogers's intimate friends were arrested for high
treason. On the 14th of May, Mr. William Stone was
arrested, and after various examinations, was committed
to Newgate. Horne Tooke was carried to the Tower under
circumstances which he has himself put on record, in a
memorandum in a volume he afterwards gave to Rogers.
This memorandum is published as a note to Rogers’s288
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
‘ Eecollections ’1 of his friend. ‘ I was apprehended,’
says Horne Tooke, ‘at Wimbledon, Friday, May i6y
conducted to the Tower, Monday, May 19,	1794,
without any charge ; nor can I conjecture their pretence
of charge. Mr. Dundas, Secretary of State, told me in the
Privy Council that “ It was conceived that I was guilty of
treasonable practices.” He refused to tell me by whom
it was conceived.’ Horne Tooke was tried in November,
and Rogers was present. He often told the story in
later days, especially dwelling on Erskine’s incomparable
pantomime.2 The attorney-general, Sir John Scott, in
replying for the Crown, used arguments for which Erskine
was not prepared, and to which he would have no oppor-
tunity of reply. Erskine drew the attention of the jury
to himself, and by shrugs of the shoulders, shakings of
the head, and other significant gestures conveyed to
them his sense of the astonishing audacity and worthless-
ness of his opponent’s statements. Horne Tooke was
acquitted; and as he left the court a lady, who described
herself as a daughter of one of the jurymen, came up and
asked to be introduced to him. He shook her warmly
by the hand and said : ‘ Then give me leave, madam, to
call you sister, for your father has just given me
life.’ Juries like that which acquitted Horne Tooke,
not only saved the lives of the men they refused to con-
vict, but saved the country itself from being compelled
to choose between despotism and revolution. Rogers
1	Rogers’s Eecollections, p. 140.
2	Mr. Hayward (Ed. Rev. July 1856) quotes Mr. Dyce’s account of
Rogers telling the story, as an illustration of the carelessness by which
Mr. Dyce ‘ has repeatedly made Rogers use phraseology he notoriously
disliked, and fall into errors of which he would have been ashamed.’WILLIAM STONE’S TRIAL
289
heartily sympathised with his persecuted political friends.
Twenty years later—when Horne Tooke had been some
time dead, and Rogers had seen much of him in that
quiet old age in which Rogers afterwards said his man-
ners and conversation reminded him of a calm sunset in
October—he turned the circumstances of the trial into
poetry. Horne Tooke was evidently in his mind when
he wrote his ‘ Human Life.’
It was more than a year before Rogers’s friend, Mr.
William Stone, at whose house at Hackney he had met
Paine, and who had introduced him to Fox, was brought
up for trial. One day in January, 1796, Rogers read
in the morning paper at breakfast that a summons had
been issued to bring him before the Privy Council. His
horse was ready to take him as usual to the bank, and
he rode at once into town and then drove in a coach to
Downing Street. He asked for Mr. Dundas, and was
shown into the presence of that Minister. He inquired
with some nervousness what was the meaning of the
announcement he had seen in the papers. Dundas re-
plied by asking what conveyance he had with him, and
learning that it was a hackney coach proposed to go
with him to the Home Office. There Rogers was told
that he was required as a witness in the trial of William
Stone for high treason. In March, 1794, Stone had met
him in the Strand, and told him a gentleman had applied
to him to learn the sentiments of the people of England
as to an invasion from France. ‘ I rather declined
the conversation,’ said Rogers in his evidence. ‘ I was
in a hurry, and I told him I had no wish to take part
in any political transactions at that time. It was
u290
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
a time of general alarm, and I wished to shun even the
shadow of an imputation—as I knew when the minds of
men were agitated, as I thought they then were, the
most innocent intentions were liable to misconstruction.’
In reply to further questions he said that Stone had
afterwards called on him with a paper, in which it was
shown that, however the English people might differ
among themselves, they would unite to repel an invasion ;
and he had expressed the opinion that he should do his
duty if by stating this, which he believed to be true, he
could save his country from invasion. Mr. Stone was
acquitted, but one result of the trial was that Rogers—
who, though always an ardent Liberal, had no passion for
politics—was less inclined than ever to take any active
part in the political agitations of a time when the Habeas
Corpus Act was suspended and there was a reign of
terror in England. ‘ You will infect me like the plague,’
he had said to his friend Stone during the conversation
which was the subject of his evidence; and he avoided
the infection, though not by keeping away from his
friends. The political danger may have been one cause
of the discontinuance of the diary which recorded the
conversation at their dinner tables. The brief record of
the toasts drunk at Mr. Morgan’s table,1 and of Paine’s re-
marks on kings might have been made evidence against
him had the Ministers of the day known that it was in
existence.
It is pleasant to turn from the gloomy aspect of
public affairs in those miserable times to the brighter
world of poetry in which Rogers loved to dwell, and to the
Chap. VIII p. 246.
1HOKNE TOOKE, FOX
291
social intercourse with pleasant people lie diligently cul-
tivated. As we look back to those years we can scarcely
wonder that Wordsworth gave up some of his earlier
aspirations, or that Southey went over to the reaction-
ary side. It is to Rogers’s lasting credit that he never
forsook his political friends. Poetry, and not politics,
was his pursuit; but he kept to the Liberal side through
all the weary years of its depression and discouragement.
Wordsworth in the most beautiful of his early poems 1
speaks of the ‘ tranquil restoration ’ which the dim recol-
lection of Nature’s beauties had brought ; and of
—that blessed mood
In which the burthen and the mystery,
In which the heavy and the weary weight
Of all this unintelligible world,
Is lightened—
which contact with Nature produced. Rogers felt the
same tranquil restoration in talk with authors and
literary men on the literary topics of the time, and in
poetry itself. He was writing his ‘ Epistle to a Friend,’
and in this year wrote the lines—which were published
in the earlier editions, but were afterwards omitted—in
which he pa}7s his first tribute to Fox, and speaks of
Horne Tooke, who had just been defeated in his second
candidature for Westminster, with a reverence that in
those days few would have paid him :—
Hail, sweet Society! in crowds unknown,
Though the vain world would claim thee for its own,
Still where thy small and cheerful converse flows
Be mine to enter, ere the circle close.
Tintern Abbey.
292
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
Wlien in retreat Fox lays his thunder by,
And Wit and Taste their mingled charms supply ;
When Siddons, born to melt and freeze the heart,
Performs at home her more endearing part;
When he, who best interprets to mankind
The winged messengers from mind to mind,
Leans on his spade, and playful as profound
His genius sheds its evening sunshine round ;
Be mine to listen, pleased yet not elate,
Ever too modest or too proud to rate
Myself by my companions ; self-compelled
To earn the station that in life I held.
He was often with Horne Tooke at Wimbledon in these
years, and the talks with him in his garden, as he leaned
upon his spade, supplied some of the material of the
4 Piecollections.’ An illustration of Fox laying his
thunder by has been given in the preceding chapter in
the extract from the diary which records the evening
spent with Fox and Sheridan at the house of Mr. Stone.
There are many other examples of the great orator’s
familiar moods in the ‘Piecollections,’ which, as Piogers
himself says, ‘ shew his playfulness, his love of letters,
and his good nature in unbending himself to a young
man.’
Piogers had long known Mrs. Siddons where she
performed ‘ her more endearing part,’ and in the year
before the lines in the ‘ Epistle ’ were written she had
asked him to write an epilogue to be spoken by her on
her benefit night. The ‘ Epilogue ’ as published in
the Poems is said in a note to have been spoken by
Mrs. Siddons ‘ after a tragedy performed for her benefit
at the Theatre Pmyal, Drury Lane, April 27th, 1795.MRS. SIDDONS
293
The stanzas are printed as they were written, not as
they were spoken. Mrs. Siddons made some changes
and abbreviations in them, for which she apologises in
the following letter
Mrs. Siddons to S. Rogers.
‘My dear Mr. Rogers,—I know your goodness will
pardon the liberties I have taken of curtailing and a little
altering the “ Epilogue,” and tho’ my having two long
parts to perform upon my benefit night will make it
painful to me to speak more of it, yet as you will probably
let that appear among your other elegant productions
you will unquestionably prin it as it was originally
written. I’m afraid my friends will think they have too
much of a good thing, for I am desired by those whom I
must not refuse to play Emmeline in “ Edgar and Emme-
line ” (a fairy tale) and to speak the epilogue to it, so I
think they will have enough of me, and all this (beside my
part in the play which is quite new to me) I have got to
learn. Pity and pardon and believe me, my dear sir,
‘ Your very much obliged
‘ And affectionate humble servant,
‘ S. Siddons.
‘ I send you the original “ Epilogue ” to compare with
the copy; and as I think the trifling alterations I have,
presuming on your kindness, made, will have a rather
better stage effect, I hope they will not be disagreeable
to you. Pray have the goodness to return it immediately,
for, as Mr. S. Lysons would say: “ I must begin and study
like a dragon ! ” ’294
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
Another letter from the great actress, written on an
ample sheet of the old-fashioned letter paper, contains a
ticket bearing the words : ‘ Mrs. Siddons’s Night, Theatre
Royal Drury Lane Company.’ It bears her monogram
and her written initials, for Box No. 664: —
* With Mrs. Siddons’ comps. & thanks to Mr. Rogers.
With respect to the Verses—
Never let your noble courage be cast down.
‘April 25th, 1795.’
He did not let his noble courage be cast down,
though he was free from the conceit which buoys up the
spirits of many inferior men, and was never quite content
with what he had written. The ‘ Epilogue ’ is certainly
none the worse for the absence of that careful elaboration
which he gave to some of his poems, and it associated
his name with one of the greatest reputations of the time.
Mrs. Siddons spoke it after the play of * Mahomet the
Impostor,’ in which she acted the part of Palmyra. Speak-
ing of the ‘ Occasional Address ’ which followed the play,
the True Briton said :	* We know not which most to
praise, its poetical merits or her delivery of it.’ The
changes made by Mrs. Siddons are recorded in Rogers’s
Commonplace Book. They are simply such as make
it more personal and direct.
I wake, I breathe and am myself again,
becomes—
I wake, I breathe, I am myself again.
And—
Ah no ! she scorns the trappings of her Art,
No theme but truth, no prompter but the heart!MRS. SIDDONS
295
became—
Oli no, I scorn the trappings of my Art,
My theme is truth, my prompter is my heart.
The two lines—
Thus Woman makes her entrance and her exit,
Not least an actress when she least suspects it;
were delivered—
Yes, fair ones, you’ve your entrance and your exit,
And most you’re acting when you least suspect it.
And the last four—
Thus from her mind all artifice she flings,
All skill, all practice—now unmeaning things.
To you, unchecked, each genuine feeling flows,
For all that life endears to you she owes;
were delivered—
No ! from her heart all artifice she flings
All skill, all practice, now unmeaning things,
Unbounded now each genuine feeling flows
For all that life endears—to you she owes.
The cordial reception accorded to this ‘ Epilogue ’ was
rightly regarded by its author as a sign that his literary
position was already fully established. ‘ His society,’
says his nephew, ‘ was eagerly sought for by ladies of
fashion as wTell as by men of letters. His father when
young, and living in Worcestershire had mixed with the
men of rank in his own neighbourhood. He had been
intimate with the Earl of Stamford and Warrington and
that excellent man the first Lord Lyttelton, the poet,
and his son-in-law Lord Yalentia, the father of the296
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
traveller. But though such society had been cultivated by
the grandfather at “ The Hill,” it was by no means to the
father’s taste. On settling in Newington Green he was
glad to drop his titled acquaintance; and he gave his son
the strong advice: “Never go near them, Sam! ” But
their doors were now open to the young and wealthy poet,
and he did not refuse to enter.’ At this period he was
just beginning to shake himself free from business. His
brother Henry came of age in the summer of 1795, and
was at once made a partner in the bank, and gradually
entrusted with its management. He proved to he an
excellent man of business, and the elder brother soon saw
that he could with the utmost confidence leave everything
in his hands. Thus year by year the way seemed to he
opening to Samuel Bogers into the life of cultivated ease,
of literary and artistic friendships, and of social celebrity
and success of which he had only dimly dreamed in earlier
days. ‘ We never go so far,’ says Guizot, ‘ as when we
know not whither we are going; ’ and Bogers exemplified
the axiom. He was gradually detaching himself from
business on the one hand, and from the home at Stoke
Newington on the other; and circumstances concurred
in a striking manner to urge him forward in the course
to which his tastes inclined him, hut with which his
old associations were in conflict. The home at Stoke
Newington was breaking up. Mary Worthington, the
‘ Milly ’ of the family letters, who had lived with Thomas
Bogers and his wife, and had always been the oldest of
the familiar faces in the Stoke Newington home, died in
November 1795. Samuel Bogers had entered her name
in his own hand in the family Bible, under the familyROGERS AND DR. MOORE
297
list:	‘Mary "Worthington, born Nov. 27, 1716, died
2nd of Nov., 1795.’ In the same year his sister Maria
had been married to his friend Sutton Sharpe. There
remained at home only his brother Henry, his sister
Sarah, and Miss Mitchell, who, as has been previously
stated, lived with the family till her death in 1812.
Among the few relics of a large correspondence with
literary and other friends at this period are, a very
characteristic letter from Dr. Moore to Rogers, and one
from Rogers to his friend Richard Sharp. The two
letters curiously exhibit the relations in which he stood
towards these very different men. The author of ‘ Zeluco ’
had sent Rogers a manuscript to read and criticise; and
Rogers, as was his wont even then, had kept it so long
that the author became anxious for its safety. The manu-
script was, in all probability, that of Dr. Moore’s work
published in the next year under the title of ‘ A View
of the Causes and Progress of the French Revolution.’
‘Clifford Street: Septr. 17th, 1794.
‘Dear Sir,—Your letter of the i6tli gave me great
pleasure, because I really thought some mischief had
come on the manuscript, not one page of which could I
have ever renewed. I am now easy, and I beg you will not
put yourself to the least hurry, as I can now wait with
patience and tranquillity till it is convenient for you.
‘ As for your verbal criticisms I would not give a damn
for them, because I have always been subject to forget
words and letters in writing; and I am more careless
in what goes to the press than in a letter to a friend,
because my compositor is the most accurate man on298
EAELY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
earth. What I expect from you are alterations of more
importance, which affect the truth and justness of the
observations and the spirit of the composition. If I did
not value your judgment in those particulars I should
not have troubled you on the subject, and if you do not
think I am able to bear the severest remark that you can
make with good humour, you do me injustice. Although
I might think your remarks ill-founded it would not de-
stroy my friendship for you—which is founded on another
unalterable basis besides my opinion of your taste in
works of literature.
‘ Yours sincerely
‘ J. Moore.
‘ P.S.—Do not show the MS.’
The letter to Richard Sharp is a year later. It is
the earliest part of the correspondence between these two
friends which has been preserved; but it must not be
regarded as indicating the full nature of their intercourse.
They had common political relations, such as letters
from other persons have already indicated, and large
correspondence on literary topics. But they were both
young and both unmarried, and yet neither of them had
given up the intention of matrimony—though Rogers, at
least, was not engaged. He was, of course, regarded as
an eligible person, he had much of the susceptibility of
the poet, and there is evidence in this letter, as well as
in others, that he had been more than once in love. He
would naturally tell the story of his social successes to
the friend who ivas most in his confidence—and that,
friend was Richard Sharp.THE MARGATE SEASON IN 1795
299
S. Rogers to Richard Sharp.
Margate [Oct. 15, 1795].
‘ My clear Sharp,—Surely I am the most miserable
dog alive, the most dependent on the opinion of others,
in heaven to-day, sent acl inferos to-morrow—now sleep-
less from ecstasy, now from despondency. I will live so
no longer. Badinage apart, I have been making experi-
ments on my own heart in this great laboratory by the
sea-side. I dropped it into the crucible, and when I looked
for it again, it was—shall I say not there ? No, but it was
not so sound as I left it. I have been fooling away a
fortnight, and am neither better nor happier for it. Yet
how long is the retrospect ! In this foolish place every
day is a little drama. My first week was almost entirely
spent in the company of a girl whose face you know,
■whose beauty you must have felt—at least I did. She
seemed sinking, and I could have wept when I looked at
her, but she left Margate, and I looked about for some-
body else. My second has passed miscellaneously. Mrs.
Gillies has some beauty from Dover Street, and I have
been flattered, amused and tortured successively beyond
description. On Saturday when I dined there it was
actual war, and I did not mean to open my lips to her
High Mightiness again, but to-day she made me go with
her to the painter’s to make my criticisms on her minia-
ture. The white flag has resumed its place, and I think
will hardly be taken down again. She goes to-morrow
with Dr.1 and Mrs. G[illies].
‘ But what will you say when I tell you that I was at
1 Dr. John Gillies, the historian of Greece and translator of Aristotle.300
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
the last ball introduced, by her own desire and previous
arrangement, to a girl whose face distracted me at the
opera concert last winter but whose name I did not
know, and whose face and fortune together have turned
all the heads in the island ? To-day, though I had not
exchanged three words with her, she walked several yards
up to me at a review, and conversed half an hour as I
sat on horseback, by the clock of St. Peter’s. She is,
indeed, the most touching girl now left in the island, but
I fear she amuses herself at the expense of other people,
and therefore stand on the defensive. Ptoger Palmer has
been giving her dinners innumerable at Pegwell, and
Miles P. Andrews,1 who has been driving about his four
horses, has been making love to her these six weeks, and
has made me the confidant of his hopes and fears. But
the last is just gone, full of love and hope. These, you
will say, are neither of them very formidable rivals, nor, I
believe, has the first any thought of it. When I have
reconnoitred the ground a little you shall know more.
‘ Mrs. Cowley 2 is here, and is really a very agreeable
woman. Beynolds the dramatist is also here, and is a
very good-humoured fellow7, though a little out of spirits,
from having singed his wings at the flame above-
1	Mr. Miles Peter Andrews wTas a member of the celebrated firm of
gunpowder manufacturers atDartford. He entered Parliament as Member
for Bewdley in 1790, and was re-elected without opposition in 1796,
1802, 1806, and 1807. He had been an intimate friend of Garrick and
Foote, and of the ‘ wicked Lord Lyttelton,’ who left him a bequest in
his will. He was the author of a number of comedies and some operas.
His 4 Mysteries of the Castle ; a Dramatic Tale in three Acts,’ had been
performed at Co vent Garden Theatre with a strong cast in the January
before Bogers met him at Margate. He bought Lord Grenville’s house
and became a prominent man of fashion. He died in 1814.
2	Mrs. Cowley, the Della Cruscan poetess.SHARP AND MACKINTOSH
301
mentioned. Colonel Barre 1 is here, and Mackintosh is
at Broadstairs, so that I find tolerable society. I live
alone in a small cottage, with a vine over the front and
benches at the door, very cheerfully looking into a field,
and furnishing more room than I want at a guinea per
week. Parsons is not here, nor do I now expect him.
Weston was here for a day or two, but caught the spleen
and vanished before I came. My Muse is neither asleep
nor awake, she is very stupid. I thank you most sin-
cerely for your good wishes, but am sorry to say they are
not yet fulfilled. I shall however return with such a
magazine of female freaks and follies as will serve to
furnish many a sublime speculation when we sit in
council together. Adieu! You wrote me a charming
letter about myself, and I blush to think that I have
confined myself to the same subject. If ever you should
pass near the precincts of the Temple will you visit my
nutshell and take a peep at our architectural experiments ?
The sublime dreams of a Piranesi vanish before them.
‘ Yours at all times and in all places,
‘S. B.
‘ Wednesday morning.’
The reply to this letter has not been preserved, and
here, for a couple of years the correspondence ceases.
The intercourse between the friends was constant; and
was necessarily greatly facilitated by Bogers’s removal
from his remote suburban home to chambers in the
Temple. Among the friends he made in this period of
his life was Mackintosh. The brilliant author of ‘ Yindiciae
Colonel Barre had been a personal and political friend of Dr. Price.
i302
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
Gallic® ’ had been eating his way to the bar to which he
was called in 1795. He and Richard Sharp were in the
habit of meeting each other at Rogers’s lodgings, where,
as he told Mr. Dyce, they would stay for hours talking
metaphysics. Rogers made no secret of his dislike of
the subject, though he was far from indifferent to some
of the most fascinating themes of transcendental specu-
lation. The only two occasions of offence between him
and Sharp arose out of Sharp’s fondness for metaphysics.
One day at Rogers’s chambers, Mackintosh and Sharp
were so intent on the abstract considerations into which
he did not care to plunge that he went out, paid a visit
and returned to find them still so absorbed that they
did not know he had been away. He was angry, and
sat down to write his letters. On a later occasion Sharp
and Rogers were together at Ulleswater, and Rogers made
a remark on the favourite topic of his friend. ‘There
are only two men in England with whom I ever talk
on metaphysics,’ said Sharp. Rogers took no offence,
though his sister Sarah, who was at the Lakes with him,
said he should have left him at once. The friendship of
these two men was not to be broken off by so paltry a mis-
understanding. If they could not talk metaphysics to-
gether, they talked of everything else, politics and theology
included. Rogers, however, knew but little of his friend’s
early history. He use to tell a story of a curious meet-
ing at Glencoe between Richard Sharp and a friend of
his father’s. Sharp and a friend had found the inn
crammed, and had been sent by the landlord to the house
of a laird who was willing to give hospitality to travellers.
The}7 were cordially received, and in the evening talkedROGERS’S COMMONPLACE BOOK
303
with their host of people and places they knew. The
host mentioned Newfoundland. ‘ Have you been there ? ’
asked his guest. ‘ I spent some time there when I was
in the army,’ answered the host, £ and the dearest friend
I ever had was a gentleman I knew there of the name of
Sharp.’ ‘ I am his son,’ said Sharp with much emotion,
at which the laird embraced him with a warmth which
found expression in tears.
There are about this date some entries in Rogers’s
Commonplace Book which give glimpses of the talk of
his numerous literary friends.
Dr. Price was told by Mr. Hume that when Rousseau came
with him to England he suspected that he was seduced over
to be poisoned; and on the way one night, as they lay in
separate rooms divided by a single partition, Rousseau beard
Mr. Hume cry out in bis sleep : ‘ I’ve got you, Rousseau ; I’ve
got you ! ’ Rousseau left him and went off into Derbyshire,
where he took it into his head that the people of England had
entered into a conspiracy against him, and wrote up to the
Minister for a guard to escort him out of the kingdom.
Hume, with much difficulty, prevailed on the king to grant
Rousseau a pension of 100k a year, but when he was informed
of it, he spurned it as an affront. He stayed here two years.
Voltaire said of him that he believed half the world were
employed in raising a statue to him and the other half in
beating it down again.
The Duke of Bedford regretted to leave his steward’s
house by the park-side where he had resided while his fortune
was at nurse : in parvis maxima voluptas.
Du Tens, the writer, possesses an invaluable copy of
Madame du Barry’s ‘ Memoirs.’ She says she was caught by
a shower in the garden at Versailles when walking with the
king, and that they were wet through. The Duke of Riche-304
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
lieu lias in this copy written this marginal note—‘ That is
not true, for I was with them and held an umbrella over her.’
Mackintosh has just paid a visit of two days at Beacons-
field, and was well received. M. acknowledged that, when he
wrote his book, he was misinformed as to the facts.
Burke often complained of the discord and intractability
of our language.
[Asked] Is he an important man, Warton [answered] ‘ I
never knew anything in an important man.’
Collins’s first performance at school contained this line—
‘ And every grammar clapt its leathern wings.’ Warton ad-
mired Sheridan’s parliamentary speeches, not his ‘ School
for Scandal,’ first written in two acts—a number of people
met together, unconnected, and not aiding the plot. Johnson
always abused ‘ Paradise Lost,’ and said, ‘ None of you can
read it; ’ afterwards did not dare to attack the public opinion.
‘ Comus ’ perhaps his finest piece. Fuseli thought the pas-
sage, ‘ And from his horrid hair shakes pestilence and war ’
worth all ‘ Comus.’1 Warton thought Johnson’s criticisms
woidd soon lose all weight. Talked with great affection and
good humour of his brother (dead). Thought the philoso-
phical Dyer wrote ‘ Junius,’ and Mason certainly wrote the
‘ Heroic Epistle.’2 February, 1795.
Collins, says Warton, is very fine in ‘ Who shall wake the
Spartan Fife ? ’ Armstrong thought little of him, as he com-
plained to Warton. Not generally admired.
These contemporary criticisms stand in curious
contrast to the verdicts of posterity. Fuseli's preference
1 Incens’d with indignation, Satan stood
Unterrified, and like a comet burn’d,
That fires the length of Ophiuchus huge
In th’ arctic sky, and from his horrid hair
Shakes pestilence and Avar. — Paradise Lost, Book ii.
2 ‘An Heroic Epistle to Sir William Chambers, Knight, 1773, by
Malcolm Macgregor.’ It was afterwards acknowledged by Mason.ROGERS'S COMMONPLACE BOOK
305
of the account of Satan’s conflict with the ‘ grisly Terror ’
to the whole of ‘ Comus ’ is characteristic of his gloomy
genius. It is a striking instance of unconscious self-
revelation. Warton’s criticism on Sheridan’s ‘ School
for Scandal,’ may be compared with that of Jekyll, who,
on seeing the piece said, ‘ Why don’t all these people
leave off talking and let the play begin; ’ and both are
instructive instances of the weakness and shallowness
of contemporary judgments. Armstrong thinking little
of Collins will suggest to many in these days the
question who Armstrong was. Millions who read with
admiration Collins’s ‘ Ode to the Passions ’ have never
heard of the author of ‘ The Art of Preserving Health,’
and would probably expect to find under that title a
medical treatise rather than a didactic poem. Collins
is better known now than Warton, and is more generally
admired than he was a century ago.
Here are some further recollections—
Dr. Parr.—I heard Horsley at St. Margaret’s Church.
He saw me as he went up into the pulpit. He sat down and
sweated. I darted my eye at him, and through the whole of
his sermon there was a most entertaining contest between his
fury and his fears. I was never near enough to Mr. Pitt, but
I always dart my eye at him. He has often bullied and
abused me, but he could never look me in the face. At
Nando’s, 19th April, ’96.
In walking up Hampstead Hill I was solicited by a beggar
woman with some fine children for alms, and I had only a
bad sixpence. I told her so ; she said she would pass it in the
night. What should I have done ? I said to myself, ‘ Society
are her aggressors,’ and I gave it to her. Mr. Smith and Mr.
Barbauld thought I was wrong. Dr. Parr thought I acted
x306
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
right, and said the man who could have done otherwise would
have kept it to pass it himself. 19th Octr. ’96.
I asked Sir George Staunton when ‘ The Embassy ’1 would
be published. He did not seem to know, and therefore I
would not ask him again. I never ask a great man a question
which he cannot answer. He never forgives you for it.—Dr.
Gillies, 24 Oc. ’96.
‘ God bless your voice! ’ said an old blind man when I
answered a question concerning the way this morning.
25 Octr. ’96.
Some other entries in the Commonplace Book, to
which no date is attached, but which evidently belong to
a comparatively early period of Rogers’s life, may be
conveniently added here. Some of them are curious
as showing the remuneration which was given to some
well-known people who edited or contributed to the
literary periodicals of the time.
In ‘ The Adventurer ’ A was Bonnel Thornton, Z was
Warton according to Mr. Ryland, Dr. Hawkesworth’s brother.
H. had 21. 2s. for each ‘ Adventurer.’ Moore had 3L 3s. for
each 1 World.’ A coalition was attempted by Mr. R., but no-
thing could be done hut printing on different days. Hill had
7s. 6d. for each ‘ Inspector.’ Dr. Hawkeswortli was incapable
of reading the mottoes prefixed to ‘ The Adventurer,’ they
were chosen for him.
In an anonymous preface to the edition of ‘ The
Adventurer’ published in 1823, we are told that Dr.
Richard Bathurst, who was one of the members of
1 The Authentic Account of the Embassy of Lord Macartney and
Sir George Staunton to China in 1792 was published in 1797. It was in
two volumes quarto.ROGERS’S COMMONPLACE BOOK
307
Dr. Johnson’s Ivy Lane Club, is said to have written
the eight papers marked ‘ A.’ Dr. Joseph Warton wrote
twenty-four papers, and Dr. Johnson is known to have
written twenty-nine. Rogers’s statement about Dr.
Hawkesworth is rendered probable by the fact that
his degree was a Lambeth one, conferred by Archbishop
Herring, and that he was a man of no early education.
It is difficult nowadays to understand the esteem in
which ‘ The Adventurer ’ was held. Horne Tooke told
Rogers that he could never forget the pleasure he felt
in retiring to read it at the age of seventeen; and Dr.
Burney tells us that in his day it was in everyone’s
library. The scale of remuneration for it belongs to the
day of small things for periodical literature.
Here are other items bearing on the same subject—
Griffiths has 42s. per sheet (printed) for the authorship of
the ‘ Monthly Review.’-—Dr. Gillies.
Millar gave 100k for 4 Joseph Andrews,’ Fielding’s first
novel.—	Caclell.
Warburton wrote the preface to the first edition of4 Clarissa.’
Warton wrote the essay 4 On the Use and Abuse of Poetry,’
quoted in 4 Essay on Pope,’ vol. i.
Colman read the 4 School for Scandal ’ before it was acted
to Burke, Reynolds, Windham, &c.—Windham.
Sheridan of Pitt: His is a brain that never works but
when his tongue is set a-going, like some machines that are
set in motion by a pendulum or some such thing.
Gray made Nicholls promise before he went abroad that
he would not call upon Voltaire.—Nicholls. Lord Hampden’s
father did the same.—Ld.	H.308
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
When Sir C. Wren’s plan for rebuilding London after the
fire was rejected—‘ A set of blockheads,’ he exclaimed, ‘ they
don’t deserve to have their city burnt.’—Priestley.
Lord Chesterfield willing away 50,00(F. to the Dean and
Chapter of Westminster (with whom he had had a lawsuit) in
case his nephew could be proved to have ever been in Italy or
at Newmarket.
Garrick and Reynolds entering Rome—the first out on the
coach-box, the last unable to sit up or look out of the window.
When Wilkes’s windows were broken he smiled and said :
‘ Some of my own journeymen set up for themselves.’
Lord Chesterfield in person compared to a stunted giant.
When driving out slowly in the Park in his old age said he
was rehearsing.
Mrs. Warburton, provoked by the bishop’s silence, once
threw a book at his head—‘ If you won’t answer me you’ll
answer a book.’
Dr. Douglas in the bishop’s palace at Salisbury said to
the archbishop of Narbonne : ‘ Your Grace should not be dis-
couraged when you recollect that the house in which you now
are, was for fourteen years a public inn ’ [during the Common-
wealth] .
Dr. Franklin had a mirror obliquely fixed near his window
by which he could see the person that knocked at his door,
and deny himself or not accordingly.—Piste.
Florence is so pretty a town it should be only seen on a
Sunday.— Un Francois.
A young man who is undazzled and unattracted by the
glitter of life is either above or below the common level, and
he is generally below it. Such a man was the Duke of
Hamilton. We may call it a love of ease, but it generally
3hows a want of energy.—Aikin..ROGERS’S COMMONPLACE BOOK
309
A regiment in France had a great regard for the memory
of their old Colonel, and when asked why, replied : ‘ He said,
“ Allons, mes amis ! ” the present says, “ Allez, mesamis ! ” ’
Barwell lost an election by canvassing with his gloves on.
Boswell drunk at Lord Falmouth’s in Cornwall, kicking
about his bed at midnight, swearing at the house in which he
said there was no bed to lie on, and no wine to drink.
Of papers the old Duke of Cumberland said : * D—n them,
they breed ! ’
When Sheridan is writing he requires a great many lights.
—Spencer.
I will make you a Baronet. Baron, if you please. The
net at the end is a net only to catch fools with.
His forte was fancy—his foible was ignorance.—Burke on
Lord Chatham. Grattan.
The following appear to be Rogers’s own reflections;
some of them recur in his poems, and some in letters to
his friends—
Plant nettles on the grave of a satirist—stinging nettles.
We cannot compare places, we only compare impressions.
’Tis thus we deceive ourselves.
Mountains, like fine ladies, are subject to vapours.
Close to the earth there is a refreshing fragrance—lost
when you elevate yourself. Remark in a clover field.
More ennui in society than out of it.
Men of fashion are mannerists, and all manner is bad ; a
natural character, manners ever varying with the thoughts
and feelings, how superior to that uniform and monotonous
thing called high breeding!310
EAELY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
Women are ever ready to make confidants of each other
in everything but love.
Poets the best prose writers : Shakespeare, Cowley, Mil-
ton, Dryden, Pope, Gray, and Addison. Burke and Rousseau
began with poetry, as did also Voltaire.
The heart, like a musical instrument, has a thousand rich
melodies, which may slumber there for ever if not called forth
by the various offices and duties of social and domestic life ;
each of which excites its peculiar set of feelings and sym-
pathies.
The soul of music slumbers in the shell
Till waked to rapture by the master’s spell,
And thy young heart, when rightly touched, shall pour
A thousand melodies unheard before.
A few items of chat, attributed to Richard Sharp
will appropriately conclude the extracts from the
Commonplace Book—
Sir Joshua Reynolds told Sharp that he never painted a
picture, or part of a picture, well till he had done it several
times.
Hoppner drew the waterfall at Melincourt, near Neath,
and slept at a miller’s near the spot. At night through a
crevice of his chamber he saw his host breaking off a piece of
his chalk, which he had left with his sketch below, and slily
treasuring it up in his bureau.
Terror is a powerful engine, but when overstrained is the
weakest of all. Inspire a man with fear and you are his
master, with despair and he is yours.
A nation in a state of despotism is like a giant asleep, with
his arms entrusted to a dwarf.DR. PRIESTLEY AND DR. JOHNSON
311
In the spring of 1795 Dr. Parr called public atten-
tion to a misstatement of Boswell’s as to the interview
which Dr. Johnson and Dr. Priestley had with one
another at the house of Mr. Paradise.1 Boswell in a
note to a new edition of his third volume declared his
firm belief that the two men never met. He based this
conviction on two circumstances : firstly,that his “illus-
trious friend was particularly resolute in not giving
countenance to men whose writings he considered as
pernicious to society;” and secondly, that when one
day at Oxford Dr. Price came into a room where
Johnson was, Johnson instantly left the room. Dr. Parr
thereupon wrote to Dr. E. Johnstone of Birmingham,
where in 1790 he had heard Priestley speak of the inter-
view, and Dr. Johnstone at once wrote to say that he
remembered Dr. Priestley’s statement that he met
Johnson under the idea that Johnson had sought the
interview and that it was mutually satisfactory. Mr.
Bearcroft wrote from Francis Street that he had only in
April or May, 1794, heard Dr. Priestley remind Mr.
Paradise of the particular civility with which Dr.
Johnson had behaved towards him when they dined
together at Mr. Paradise’s house. Mr. Bearcroft adds
that ‘ having mentioned the subject this afternoon to
Mr. Paradise, he told me that, though he did not clearly
recollect the motive by which he had been induced to
bring Dr. Johnson and Dr. Priestley together, he very
well remembered Dr. Johnson having been previously
informed that Dr. Priestley would be one of the company,
1 Mr. Paradise was a member of Johnson’s evening club at the ‘ Essex
Head.’312
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
and his having manifested great civility to the latter on
that occasion.’ To this testimony Rogers was able to
add his own in the following letter—
S. Rogers to Dr. Parr.
1 Newington Green : February 23rd, 1795.
* Dear Sir,—I can answer your several questions
distinctly. I heard of the interview between Dr. Johnson
and Dr. Priestley from Dr. Priestley himself. I have heard
it mentioned more than once. I understood that it was
not solicited by Dr. Priestley, and that if any overture
was made for that purpose it came from Dr. Johnson.
I found that Dr. Priestley thought Dr. Johnson’s
behaviour such as it ought to have been from one man
of letters to another. Johnson was very civil.
‘ I hope that I have written satisfactorily, and am
happy in the opportunity which you have given me of
assuring you with what respect
‘ I am, dear Sir,
‘ Your most obedient servant,
‘ Samuel Rogers.’
There were various signs in the periodicals of 1794,
179 5, and 1796 of the esteem in which the author of
‘ The Pleasures of Memory ’—was already held by his
literary contemporaries. A poem on his poem appeared
in the European Magazine, which contained the lines—
With more attractive charm the verse appears
Whose magic power calls back our fleeting years,
And binds with Memory’s tenacious chain
The airy forms of pleasure and of pain.‘ MY CLUB ’
313
In another of the magazines appeared a poem in
Spenserian language ‘ on his ordering a great coat
called a Spenser.’ One of the verses ran—
0 precious Impeof Fame, Sam Rogers
Who chauntest Memorie in dulcett straine,
Filling our eares and harts with such delight
Entraunced we live past pleasaunce o’er againe;
This amplest theme, by others minc’d in vaine,
"Was by the sacred sisters nyne withheld,
Immortal guerdon for thy	to game
Certes old Humber’s Bard, and he who dwel’d
Whylome in daintie Leasowes, are by thee excel’d.
The last references are to Mason’s and Slienstone’s
Odes to Memory. A more amusing reference to him,
and to a number of his friends is contained in a short
poem entitled ‘ My Club,’ which appeared in the Euro-
pean Magazine in July, 1795 :—
With M[arsden] I would trust my life,
With L[awrence] all my civil strife,
And steal him from Justinian’s code
To make him sport another ode ;
With B . . . . write in purest Latin
From classic Celsus to Guy Patin;
From B .. . . catch some emendation
Of Aristotle or of Tatian,
Impromptu P [arsons] shall rehearse
With ready pen in easy verse,
What R[ennell] tells liow Agamemnon,
Diomede and Ajax Telamon,
Forced out from Holland and from Flanders
The Dutch and English Alexanders.
S[harp], too, the subtle and acute
Shall quickly settle the dispute,314
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
And mightiest stagirites among,
Leave his opponents in the wrong.
Meek R[ogers], whom the Muses love,
Unites the serpent and the dove ;
In business, as in rhyming terse,
Can talk of agio or of verse ;
S[eward], of anecdotes a storehouse,
Lays gratis all he hears before us,
And tells the whole long ere ’tis seen
In tli’ European Magazine ;
B[erdmore], no common politician
At once is cliymist and physician.
And of the Roman as was said
He knows his art but not his trade.
R. C ..., whose active mind ne’er still is,
Loves Greek, we’re sure, but not like G[illies],
Tom Warton, merry wight—ah no !
Death envied us, but left us Jo.
Another very satisfactory sign of the recognised
place he had taken in literature was given in the recep-
tion accorded by the critics to the Rev. R. Polwhele’s
dull poem called ‘ The Influence of Local Attachment
with Respect to Home.’ So much was said by the
reviewers of the similarity of this poem in some parts
to the beautiful poem, as they all called it, ‘ The
Pleasures of Memory,’ that Mr. Polwhele was obliged
to come forward with a laboured vindication. His
apology was in the form of a	He had been
accused of copying some of Rogers’s notes verbatim, and
he admitted that he had written his own notes hastily
with Rogers’s before him. But as to plagiarism, had not
Rogers borrowed from him ? He had written an ‘ Epistle
to a College Friend,' which he was almost inclined to con-ROGERS AND POLWHELE
315
sider as the prototype of the first part of ‘ The Pleasures
of Memory.’ Only one of his comparisons need be given.
He had written in his ‘ Epistle to a College Friend ’—
While yet ’tis mine to trace the feeling hour
And win young Fancy from the Muse’s bower
Ere pressing cares, too numerous, intervene
To disenchant the bosom-soothing scene,
Come, nor too soon, alas ! to memory fade
Ye views fast fainting into sombre shade !
The passage with which Polwhele compares this—
which he intimates was suggested by it—is this : speak-
ing of childhood’s loved group revisiting every scene,
‘ the tangled wood-walk and the tufted green,’ Rogers
proceeds—
Indulgent Memory wakes, and lo, they live !
Clothed with far softer hues than Light can give.
Thou first, best friend that Heaven assigns below,
To soothe and sweeten all the cares we know ;
Whose glad suggestions still each vain alarm
When Nature fades, and life forgets to charm ;
Thee would the Muse invoke ! to thee belong
The sage’s precept and the poet’s song.
What softened views thy magic glass reveals
When o’er the landscape Time’s meek twilight steals !
The comparison of these passages—and they are
put in juxtaposition by Mr. Polwhele himself—not only
shows the ridiculous nature of his suggestion of pla-
giarism, but conclusively and sufficiently exhibits the
immense superiority of Rogers’s poem to the boasted
productions of the poetasters of the time.316
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
CHAPTER X.
State of the Country in 1795-6—Reaction in Parliament—Westminster
election, 1796—Dr. Moore and his sons—Rogers’s domestic relations
—Correspondence with R. Sharp—Brighton in 1797 —Lady Jersey—
A romance without a denouement—Brighton in 1798—Sarah Rogers.
There are but few signs at this period of that lively
interest in public affairs which characterised Rogers in
earlier days. Many of his first friends were gone. Dr.
Price was dead, Dr. Priestley was in exile, William
Stone had only lately been acquitted on a charge of
high treason for which he had lain two years in Newgate
untried; Horne Tooke was cultivating his garden at
Wimbledon, after his defeat in the Westminster elec-
tion ; and Fox, though he had headed the poll in the
same election was in a state of discouragement at the
gloomy aspect of public affairs ; Sheridan was enjoying
the temporary relief from pecuniary troubles which his
new wife’s five thousand pounds had given him ; and
Sharp, Mackintosh, and others of his political friends
and acquaintances were keeping comparatively quiet in
the vain hope of better days. In the autumn of 1795
there had been a great agitation in the country for
reform in Parliament and peace with France. This
agitation had been purely political, but there had gonePUBLIC AFFAIRS IN 1795-6
317
on side by side with it a social movement which had
serious results. There was almost a famine in the land,
and the utmost distress prevailed among the labouring
classes. The papers contained frequent reports of death
by starvation, and the populace, with just instinct,
regarded the war as the chief cause of their sufferings.
There had been a great meeting on Copenhagen Fields
on the 26th of October 1795, when a remonstrance to
the king had been resolved on, complaining of the
neglect and contempt his ministers had shown for an
address presented to them some time before. On the
29th an unparalleled multitude, estimated at two
hundred thousand, ten times as great, it was said, as
had ever been seen before, assembled to see the king go
to the House of Lords to open Parliament, which had
been called together earlier than usual in consequence
of the prevailing distress. While waiting for the king
the crowd hissed Lord Chatham and the Duke of
Gloucester as they passed, hooted the Duke of Portland,
and made hostile demonstrations against other well-
known members of the House of Lords. When the
king’s carriage appeared a storm of hisses and groans
broke forth, mingled with loud cries of ‘ Bread, bread ! ’
‘ Peace, peace ! ’ and * Down with Pitt! ’ Opposite the
Ordnance Office a stone struck one of the windows of
the state carriage and broke it, and the king thought
he had been fired at. When the king arrived at the
House of Lords he exclaimed to the Lord Chancellor:
‘ My lord, I have been shot at.’ Later in the afternoon
Lord Westmoreland informed the House of Lords that
the king had been treated with insult and outrage by318
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
the mob, and that the glass of the carriage had been
broken by a shot fired from an air gnn from the bow
window of a house adjoining the Ordnance Office with
the object of assassinating his majesty.
These events had most painful results. The fears
of the sovereign and his advisers had magnified a
bread riot into a rebellion, as Louis XYI. had mis-
taken a revolution for an	The meeting in
Copenhagen Fields on Monday was associated with the
riot of the following Thursday, and proclamations were
issued offering rewards for the apprehension of the ring-
leaders of the riot, and urging well-affected people to
assist in putting down such gatherings as that of
Monday, and in preventing the dissemination of
£ seditious writings.’ The Marquis of Lansdowne
courageously accused the Ministry of intending to seize
the opportunity to work on the fears of the public in
order to get repressive laws passed, and to increase their
own power at the expense of freedom. Two Bills were
brought in and passed, one entitled ‘ An Act for the
safety and preservation of his majesty’s person and
government against treasonable and seditious practices
and attempts ; ’ and the other ‘ for the more effectually
preventing seditious meetings and assemblies.’ The
Whig leaders protested against these Acts, but did not
even succeed in shortening their duration, which extended
in the first case to the whole life of the king and in the
second to three years. The Duke of Norfolk declared
that the family of Brunswick owed its possession of the
throne to the principle of resistance ; the Duke of Bed-
ford said the measures constituted a direct attack onRECOLLECTIONS OF FOX
319
the liberty of Englishmen, and Mr. Fox maintained that
the Bills totally annihilated Liberty. They were passed,
however, and they were not allowed to remain as a dead
letter on the statute-book. The first result was to
render the Government intensely unpopular, and the
second was to discourage all Liberal political action
and movement. To these two measures, and to the
prosecutions which followed on them, we may attribute
the temporary suspension of political action on the part
of Rogers and his friends, though the complete dis-
continuation of his diary, so far as political persons and
movements are concerned, dates from a time just pre-
vious to the arrest of his friend William Stone on the
charge of high treason in May, 1794.
His ‘ Recollections of Fox ’ in the volume edited by
Mr. William Sharpe begin with a dinner at Mr. William
Smith’s on the 19th of March, 1796. There was a great
gathering of Whigs: Tierney, Courtenay, Sir Francis
Baring, Dr. Aikin, Mackintosh, Sir Philip Francis and
Dr. Parr, but the talk seems to have been of everything
but politics. At Sergeant Hey wood’s on the 10th of
December, Lord Derby, Lord Stanley, Lord Lauderdale,
Lambton, Aikin, Smith, and Brogden were present with
Fox, and still the talk seems to have been chiefly literary.
It is significant, however, that what Fox is reported by
Rogers to have said bearing on the politics of the time
was pitched in a key of the most profound despondency.
‘ I always say, and always think,’ said Fox to Rogers,
‘ that of all the countries in Europe, England will be
the last to be free. Russia will be free before England.’
A bad prophecy, but a good indication of the feeling of320
EAELY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
the time. On the same evening Lord Lauderdale said :
‘ I wish I was Member for Westminster.’ ‘ And I wish I
was a Scotch Peer,’ answered Fox. ‘ Why so ? ’ he was
asked. ‘ I should then he disqualified,’ replied Fox.
This was said just six months after his triumphant re-
turn for Westminster at the head of the poll. That elec-
tion was the last in which Rogers gave a vote for two-
and-twenty years ; and he gave it not only on the Whig
hut on what may be described as the Eadical side.'
Kogers voted for Horne Tooke, who was seconded on the
hustings by his brother-in-law, Sutton Sharpe. Bogers
also voted for Mr. Fox. In an edition of the speeches
delivered by Horne Tooke at this election, which had
come into Eogers’s hands, there is a note in Horne
Tooke’s handwriting giving the number of days he had
been in prison. I copy it precisely as it stands—
1774	H. of Commons	2 days
w V* w CO	K.’s Bench	336 >*
1794	Privy Council	3 >>
> >	Tower	148 ,,
5 >	Newgate	3° »»
	In Prison .	. 519 days
There is a curious reckoning, too, in Horne Tooke’s
writing, which shows that he had spoken from three and
a half to four hours during the fifteen days, and that he
had made two hundred and twenty-seven points against
the government, or about one point every minute. The
1 The poll closed on Monday the 13th of June, the fifteenth day of
the polling, and the numbers were : Fox 5,160 ; Sir Alan Gardner 4,814 ;
Horne Tooke 2,819.FOX’S WESTMINSTER SPEECH
321
pamphlet further contains the speech made by Mr. Fox
to the electors at the close of the poll on Saturday the
i ith of June, the fourteenth day of the voting. Mr. Fox
spoke quite as strongly as Horne Tooke. ‘ The law that
was passed in the last session of Parliament/ said Fox,
‘ has made it impossible for more than fifty persons to
meet without being subject to the interference of a
magistrate. If you take my advice the law will not
disturb your meeting. Meet! Meet! Act in obedience
to the law, which does not forbid your meeting, it only
empowers the magistrate to commit you if you act
improperly. Meet, then, I say; conduct yourselves with
propriety and see whether anyone will dare to oppose
you.’ This advice was received with great cheering.
Mr. Fox concluded by saying : ‘ Gentlemen, I have spoken
plainly and openly to you and I will conclude by
repeating that in my conscience I believe that [the
character of the] Government has been by none
exaggerated. A more detestable one never existed in
British history; and not to detain you any longer I
will sum up its character in two words. This Govern-
ment has destroyed more human beings in its foreign
wars than Louis XIV., and attempted the lives of more
innocent men at home than Henry VIII.’ In these
words Fox expressed a feeling which Rogers and his
friends fully shared, and to which Rogers frequently
gave expression in later and happier times.
The Westminster election probably left some soreness
behind it, for at one of William Smith’s dinner parties
at which Rogers was present with Fox and Tooke, he
noticed, with much pain, that Fox tried to ignore Tooke.
Y322
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
At another of these dinners, Tierney and others were
speaking disparagingly of Pitt, and declaring that he was
not in earnest about the slave trade, when Fox rebuked
them. Wilberforce had just at this time brought him-
self into much unpopularity by voting for the ministerial
measures for the suspension of freedom. The Liberals
were profoundly depressed. They seemed conscious that
they were just entering on their long journey through
the wilderness. There was none of the buoyant confidence
which distinguished them in the halcyon days when the
French Revolution was young. The shadow of the Terror
had already rolled away from France, but it had settled
down on England.
Unpopular as the war was, it necessarily created an
interest of its own. Dr. Moore, for example, was one of
its opponents, but he naturally felt, as every patriotic
man feels, a certain pride in the successes of his country-
men, even when the country is in the wrong. This
feeling spread. Dislike of a struggle which multitudes of
the best Englishmen regarded as needless and wicked,
conflicted in the public mind with pride in their country’s
prowess, and that pride eventually came uppermost.
Dr. Moore had personal and family interests in the war.
He had two heroic sons actively engaged, each destined
to win honours, and one immortal fame. In the follow-
ing letter he refers both to his own literary work, and to
the success of one of his sons.
Dr. Moore to	Rogers.
‘ Monday.
‘ My dear Rogers,—I will be happy to accompany you
to Mr. Smith’s on the first Monday in Christmas, pro-GRAHAM MOORE
323
vided my son Graham does not come to town at that
time. You will see hy last night’s Gazette that he has
brought a fine French corvette to Spithead. Mrs. Moore
and I have scarcely had a fortnight of him since the war.
He is the most delightful fellow alive, and I cannot lose
a day of him, hut I will know when he is to come and
inform you. The Melampus needs repair.
‘ I am glad you like Edward. I am told he is thought
too much of a common man for a hero. Though I tried
to make him something of a man of this world and not
quite an ideal being, yet I heartily wish that heroes as
well as common men were more like him. I am not
much of a misanthrope, but I have a notion that all
men of humanity are a little so. That you should think
all Edward’s conduct very natural does not surprise me;
that some who rank him with common men should think
so, does.
‘ Adieu!
‘ J. Moore.
‘ Do you ever see my Charles ? ’
Edward was the hero of Dr. Moore’s second novel,
which Mrs. Barbauld regards as much inferior to £ Zeluco ’
but as having many amusing conversation pieces. Charles
was the youngest of his five sons. Graham was the
third. He was a year younger than Rogers, had joined
the navy in 1777, had been made a post-captain in 1794,
and in 1795 had succeeded Sir Richard Strachan in the
Melampus. In this vessel he served for five years with
great distinction, and then came home invalided to his
father’s house, where the Peace of Amiens found him.324
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
When the war broke out again he was appointed to the
Indefatigable, and after twelve years of active service
was made a K.C.B. Other deserved honours followed,
and in 1837 he was promoted to the rank of admiral.
He died at Chobham, in November, 1843. A brief
memoir of him was written in 1844, by Major-General
Sir Robert Gardiner.
The kind of life Rogers was living at this period when
his greatness was a ripening is shown in some family
letters. The first is from his sister Sarah. She was
visiting Mrs. Rogers at Whitehall near Stourbridge and
wrote to him on the 28th of November, 1796—
‘ Here I am at such a distance from all of you that I
seem quite in another world, and want very much to know
what you are doing in yours . . . Your time is I suppose
entirely taken up with engagements, attending clubs,
reading papers of which I have heard, etc., while I have
little to do but to watch for the time of the post coming
in that I may hear a little of what you are about . . .
Wherever I go I hear a great deal about you. We drank
tea a few nights ago at “ The Hill.” Miss Hopkins was
there; she looked very handsome, and if you had heard
her conversation you would have thought her still more
so. But I shall make you too vain if I go on and repeat
to you what she said, for though you are sufficiently used
to compliments, yet, coming from the mouth of so pretty
a woman, I don't know what the effect might be.’
In a letter from Nottingham Place on the 10th of
December, 1796, Mrs. Sharpe tells her sister Sarah—SUTTON SHARPE’S FRIENDS
325
‘ On Sunday Sam called, and with him Mr. Hoppner,
who took Mr. Sharpe to see a collection of pictures of a
Mr. des Enfans,’ where there were some fine ones . . .
On Thursday Sam engaged to dine here, so Mr. Sharpe
got some other gentlemen, Mr. Tuffin, Mr. Cline, Mr. S.
Boddington, W. Maltby, and Stothard . . . Yesterday
Mr. Sharpe dined at Mr. Cline’s, where were Horne Tooke
and a party of gentlemen. He was not home till past
twelve, so late are parties now.’
The men named in this letter were all celebrities in
their time. Mr. Tuffin is now forgotten, but for many
years he was one of the liveliest and most interesting
talkers of a circle of men who made conversation a study
and an art. An octogenarian friend of mine still re-
members his white head and his amusing talk, and the
story he told that his hair had turned white in a single
night in which he had been shut up by accident in one
of the vaults at Windsor. Hoppner was the well-known
artist already mentioned in an extract from Kogers’s Com-
monplace Book; Cline w7as the celebrated surgeon who
afterwards tapped Fox for the dropsy, and was consulted
by Windham respecting the tumour which cost that
statesman his life. Of the others it is needless to speak.
Sutton Sharpe had married Bngers’s sister Maria in 1795,
and the result of this closer connection between him
and Rogers was, as I have already said, that Rogers was
brought into more frequent and familiar intercourse with
the chief artists of the time. It was this intercourse,
together with Sutton Sharpe’s own direct instructions
1 This is the collection which now forms the Dulwich Gallery.326
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
and influence which gave Rogers the knowledge of art
which made him eventually the chief authority of his
time on questions of taste.
These letters show, not only what his private and
family life wTas at this period, but the very affectionate
relations he maintained with the members of his family.
These relations are further illustrated by a letter to his
sister Sarah—
Samuel Rogers to Sarah Rogers.
‘Temple: io March, 1797.
‘ My dear Sarah,—Surely the wildest dream of Mad
Bess herself must have been dull and insipid when com-
pared to what is passing in this planet of ours! At
present things are indeed a little too interesting and I
am not yet half recovered from the stunning blow we
received last week. I hint this by way of apology; you
will shake your head at it and pronounce it a lame one,
but I have been really so harassed for the last month or
two that I have even wanted spirits for a pun. Of you,
however, I often think, and again and again have I
begun an invocation to your friendly but fugitive spirit
(when will you take your flight to us ?) but in vain. A
thousand cares and follies have interposed to prevent
me. But how shall I answer you in your own style ?
Really, child, you have an admirable way of charming
people out of their senses; you must surely have dipped
your pen, not into ink, but into some sweet intoxicating
spirit, prepared no doubt (for they abound in it) from
the old family receipt book at Clieadle. But what are
you about ? Are you indoctrinating yourself into theBROTHER AND SISTER
327
sublime mysteries of a cotton mill? Or, like Bonaparte's
cannon, are you dealing havoc among the beaux of the
north ? Some sylph or sylphid has indeed whispered
strange things ; what she said I dare not say, but her
voice was so musical that we “think her still speaking,
still stand fixed to hear.”
‘ This morning I had a visitor to breakfast with me,
a noble stranger whom I long to introduce to your
acquaintance. Elegant, animated, and modest, with a
look of sentiment, a fine form, and the coiffure grec, in
short, another Imogene—the dear brother of Clementini,
and of as noble a family, his father being Doge of
Genoa. What do you say ? and yet I should not like
to lose you neither. But do answer, child: would you
like to sport a veil and a train, and receive incense as
her Serenissima the Marchesa Brignola among tables of
massive gold and curtains of crimson velvet ? In your
next pray say yes or no. I cannot finish this subject
without hinting that he talks of visiting Manchester.
Perhaps he may suit somebody’s taste at Cheadle. With
regard to our domestic annals you are in correspond-
ence with those who are far better qualified than I am
to inform you on that subject. The	of
Charlotte Street and Nottingham Place are in better
hands. My own memoirs are dull enough, and have no
pretensions even to furnish a little light summer reading
for a cit’s daughter at a watering-place. I feel, my
dearest Sarah, that your mind wall be in a very unfit
state for the stuff I have just scrawled, when you hear
what 1 have just heard while I was writing, that Patty
has this morning lost her little boy. A few days ago he328
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
had a slight relapse, but no great danger was appre-
hended. The poor little object of all their anxieties is
now, however, no more. I have not yet heard the
particulars—you will, I suppose, by this post receive
them from Maria or Mr. T[owgood]. Pray remember
me very particularly to all the family at Cheadle. To
two of that family I am at a loss how to express myself.
I have deposited the little epistle in lavender, and shall
often turn to it with pride and pleasure. It is some con-
solation to a man as he advances in life that he some-
times receives expressions of kindness and friendship
from the young and the lovely, which are withheld, or at
least concealed, from the gayer and younger candidates
for their favour. Pray give my sincere and unalterable
love to the fair personage above alluded to. Adieu, my
dear girl
‘ And believe me, ever,
‘ Most affectionately yours,
‘ S. R,
‘ A thousand enquiries were made about you at the
last City assembly. Miss Edison said she should have
called upon you, but she heard you were gone to the
north of Europe.’
In the correspondence with Richard Sharp which
took place during Rogers’s absence from town in the
autumn of this year, there are references which throw
light on some parts of the life of both the writers. It is
incomplete, of course, for it only fills a gap in that
personal intercourse which, at this period was constant
and intimate, and by its constancy and intimacyCORRESPONDENCE WITH R. SHARP
329
escaped all such record. In October, 1797, Rogers was at
Brighton, and Richard Sharp replies to an urgent invita-
tion to get out of business for a time and pay his friend
a visit. Richard Sharp pleads his mother’s illness, the
approaching death of a friend who he fears has left him
as executor, and a fortnight’s laborious employment that
a West India merchant has sent him, which, he says, ‘ will
occupy the last two months of this distressing year. The
letter continues:—
‘ I never knew before the full value of a taste for
reading. During the last twelve months I have had no
opportunity of gratifying myself in any other amuse-
ment. Books are always at hand, and though I never
meddle with them before night, yet, then, they transport
me from unpleasant scenes into other worlds, and inter-
pose a pleasant hour between the insipid or painful occu-
pations of the day. Johnson would have burnt this
letter before he had read the first page; for he hated
complaining people. Your querulous fellow is always
selfish, and generally finds more delight in talking of his
own pains than in sympathising with the pleasures of
others. I am not so far gone as to have lost my relish
for your occupations, and am sincerely rejoiced when I
think how completely the sea air seems to have restored
to you both your health and your spirit. Seize the
precious moment; consult your solid interest by increas-
ing your present name. Publish as soon as you can, that
you may run round the only circles where you can now
wish to move, and that you may be able early in life to
enjoy the highest possible of all intellectual pleasures—330
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
that of living with the few friends you may have se-
lected from every class and every rank. For a delicate
and discriminating man it is necessary that he should
see all, to select, alas ! a very few.’
This letter appropriately illustrates the influence
which Richard Sharp exerted on his friend. He had a
high opinion of Rogers’s literary powers, and shows a
constant anxiety that those powers should not rust in
him unused. He was constantly urging him along the
road which his faculties and his ambition marked out ;
but which ill-health, a too fastidious taste, and a great
love of social intercourse, threatened to block. Rogers
owed him much in the way of stimulus and encourage-
ment ; he probably owed him almost as much in the
way of suggestion and criticism. There must have been
another letter from Richard Sharp, announcing the
death of his friend, and telling Rogers something of his
own troubles and difficulties, as is shown in Rogers’s
reply.
Samuel Rogers to Richard Sharp.
‘Surely, my dear friend, you must have conceived a
very sublime idea of my philosophy to think it equal to
such trials. But, not to reproach where no reproach is
due, let me express my great concern, not at my disap-
pointment, but at the events which have occasioned it,
and let me hope that you will not suffer your spirits to
sink under such an accumulation of troubles.
‘ The loss of such a friend as the last from whom
you had experienced such an uninterrupted successionCORRESPONDENCE WITH R. SHARP
331
of good and kind offices, must indeed have greatly
affected you. After all, there is nothing so attaching as
kindness, indeed nothing else is worth living for in this
world.
‘ That friend has, indeed, left you in a very delicate
and embarrassing situation, and of the motives for his
doing so there can be no doubt. You will, of course,
take no step till after you have maturely weighed it, and
then, w'hatever it is, I am sure it must be right.
‘ With regard to myself, I live on here stupidly
enough, knowing nobody and not wishing to know any-
body. My taste, as you well know, has been too fas-
tidious for my happiness, and it has now become more
so than ever. Aikin1 was a great comfort while he
stayed. He began his operations with great spirit; the
weather was delightful, our situation no less so, and
indeed the whole scene was sufficient to intoxicate even
a man of his complexion. He over-fatigued himself
presently, a haemorrhage came on, and he left me (though
not sooner than he first intended) in a very melancholy
state indeed. I never knew half his value before. Hoole
and his son live within a mile of me, and are a very
pleasant acquisition. Mathias2 has also given me great
pleasure, and G. Morgan3 made two days pass very
smoothly. But the translator of “ Ariosto ” is now ill, and
1	Dr. Aikin’s health, as Lucy Aikin tells us, had visibly declined all
this year. He was writing the first volume of General Biography, and
editing the Monthly Magazine. On the day this letter was written,
Aikin’s friend, Dr. Enfield died. His painful illness had exerted a very
depressing effect on Aikin’s spirits.
2	T. J. Mathias, author of The Pursuits of Literature.
3	George Morgan, nephew of Dr. Price and brother of William Morgan
who wrote Dr. Price’s life.332
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
the two last have vanished. The Prince and his little
court left us on Monday for the season. The place is
now joyless and deserted and the Steyne, which was
lately crowded with the young and the gay, is now re-
signed to the nets of the fishermen. In the meantime
I bustle about, and my regimen consists of large
draughts every morning of a certain pure ether, to be
taken only on the South Downs, and which is sweetened
by the effluvia that escape from the wild thyme now
in full blow. I had flattered myself that you would
have shared it with me, metis n’importe. I must bear it
as I can. Give me leave to hope that the alarm was a
false one, and that your mother is gradually advancing
to be what you wish her.
£ Adieu ! and believe me to be, ever,
£ Yours very affectionately,
6 C "P
‘Brighton: Friday, Novr. 3, 1797.’
Richard Sharp’s answer to this letter is dated the
10th of November 1797. A great crisis had occurred in
his life, the outline of which can only be dimly traced
in his correspondence with Rogers, but which seems to
have been as important as that which gave Rogers him-
self the wealth he was now enjoying. In this letter he
announces the change. His friend was dead, and had
left him as one of his executors and he had assumed the
trust. After speaking of some private matters which
throw no light on his personal history and have no
public interest, Richard Sharp says :—
£ It turns out that my deceased friend, as well as theCORRESPONDENCE WITH R. SHARP
333
living brother, have always wished that I should be the
representative in this world of themselves and all their
immense property. This I never supposed, though I
had reasons undoubtedly to think so. Their conduct
has been so singularly affectionate and so unspeakably
respectful to me in this matter, that I should be the
most ungrateful of the human race if I did not do what-
ever they have desired I should do. Two men, who
have desired to unite me to their only child and to more
than 150,000 l.are entitled to command me, and all that
is mine, in every case and to every possible extent. I
shall, however, have but little employment in the trust at
present nor will it be ever complicated or difficult. . . .
Last night I read a paper at our Society : £ On the Sublime
and Beautiful in External Objects ’ in sounds, colours,
forms, and language. We were a full Club, which is
rather uncommon on the first night of the season.
‘ Boddington extols your situation at Brighton ; but
your picture of the Steyne and of the Downs interested
me more than his panegyrics. I hope you write, as well
as ride and read. I hope, too, yet I know the perils of
the wish, that you have found stronger inducements to
stay by the sea than the desire of health or amusement.
Are you determined (without my excuses) to waste your
youth as I have done ? With all that can invite and
satisfy in manners, fortune, and character, will you
defer the chief scene of life till you must perform it
under many disadvantages ? Bemember your own illus-
tration, the rivulet that became a river, and the river
that widened into a sea.
‘ I have not been in my place either in the Strand334
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
or in Bond Street. Favell gave me a dull dinner with
Horne Tooke on Monday. He was never kinder, but
the spring of this curious machine seems to have lost its
elasticity. . . I have learnt from you, I suppose, to be
very jocose and entertaining “ dum angor intus, et ipse
meum cor edens incedo.” If I go on for another year
thus, I shall eclipse you in gaiety by mere dint of
melancholy, and shall be as sentimental and as interest-
ing as the most inspired poet can desire. If you do not
mean to envy as well as admire me, you must come
soon to Town, and, by cheering me with your presence,
bring me back again to the natural stupidity and
serenity of my character.’
Rogers’s reply to this letter, written from Brighton on
the 14th of November, 1797, contained the following
passage—
£ Yes, my dear friend, I am indeed of your opinion
(though I fear you were not aware of the full meaning
of your words) that you would be very blamable if you
did not do whatever they have desired you to do. I
believe I have delicacy, I know I have pride, and yet,
were such an alternative placed before me, I think I
should not hesitate. But why should I say anything ?
I was, once, more than pleased with her. I could again,
I am persuaded, love her better than ever ; and if I
have sometimes affected to resent the little sallies of a
lively and open temper, it was in order to disguise them
to my own vanity as the effects of a pique at the dis-
continuance of attentions which I am now convinced she
never cared for, and has entirely forgotten. If she wereCORRESPONDENCE WITH R, SHARP
335
to become the wife of my friend I am very sure we
should fall desperately in love with each other in a
fortnight. So, beware ! ’
The self-revelation of this passage makes it an im-
portant contribution to Rogers’s early history. It shows,
at least, that he did not deliberately lay out his life from
the first on the plan of bachelor freedom. He makes no
further reply to Richard Sharp’s hint as to deferring
‘ the chief scene of life,’ unless indeed, the tone of the
rest of the letter, especially the reference to his flirtation,
may be regarded as a kind of escape from a subject
which had unwelcome associations. He continues—
‘ I have nothing to send you but a diary of the
weather and a chronicle of visits; I am reading French
novels with relentless fury, and though I am not, like
you, the hero of a romance, I am often acting a part in
one, though a very subordinate part.
‘ Hid I tell you of my flirtation with a very celebrated
countess ? . . How I dined alone with her, rode alone
with her, spent an evening alone with her, the last she
spent in Brighton; and how I was domesticated with
her daughters ? And such daughters—but riimporte ! I
shall only observe en passant that if you think you have
any notion of what perfection a woman can attain to
you are quite mistaken, and should be punished for your
presumption. I hope the Prince is jealous of me, for I
am most furiously so of him.
‘ The Hooles dined with me yesterday, and beg to be
remembered to you.
‘We have had the most delicious weather—an336
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
Italian sky, and the air clear as crystal from sunrise
to sunset. Deserted as we are, we are still cheerful,
tlio’ we make no effort to be gay. A regiment-hand
plays twice a day under my window; and we form the
pleasantest little supper-parties imaginable, a melange
of cards and conversation, music and macaroni. Last
night it was held chez the Thompson’s; to-night Mrs.
Hope opens her rooms; and to-morrow night Mrs.
Dawson, a lady of great beauty and accomplishments,
who cost Erskine a duel some years ago. To tell you a
secret, I am in fashion just now—arrangements are
made to see me, and the favour will last three days.
The great Petrie is here (a Parisian acquaintance), and
his wife, who trails about in her equipage of four horses,
has invited me to Gatton; so I shall call in my transit
to town. But I have played the egotist long enough,
and shall only add that you are in no present danger of
losing the picture—my pulse beats very temperately.
I am sorry I was not present the other night. Why
did not you send an express for me ? The Society will
recover itself in my opinion; if it discovers a little
respect for us, I shall require no more.
Adieu, my dear Friend !
Ever yours,
‘ S. R.’
The countess to whom he thus humorously alludes
was Lady Jersey1 whose acquaintance he had made
1 Frances Twysden, daughter and heiress of the bishop of Eaphoe
wife of the fourth earl of Jersey, whom she married in 1770. She was
therefore much older than Bogers. Miss Frampton (Journal p. 84) de-
scribes her * as clever and unprincipled, but beautiful and fascinating.’LADY JERSEY AND HER DAUGHTERS
337
during this visit, and whom he continued to visit in after
years. Her intimacy with the Prince of Wales was
one of the Court scandals of the time. It need only he
referred to here by way of annotation on Rogers’s letter.
It was about this time that he wrote the lines to Lady
Jersey’s youngest daughter Harriet. Her elder sister
was about to be married, and the younger sister had
written some lines on the coming event. Rogers re-
monstrates in the following stanzas—
Ah ! why with tell-tale tongue reveal
What most her blushes would conceal ?
Why lift that modest veil to trace
The seraph sweetness of her face ?
Some fairer, better sport prefer ;
And feel for us, if not for her.
For this presumption, soon or late,
Know thine shall be a kindred fate.
Another shall in vengeance rise
Sing Harriet’s cheeks and Harriet’s eyes ;
And, echoing back her woodnotes wild,
Trace all the mother in the child.
It was to Lady Jersey that Rogers once expressed
his regret that he was not married—a regret that he
often felt and expressed, especially in his later years.
£ If I had a wife,’ he said, ‘ I should have somebody to
care about me.’ ‘ How could you be sure,’ asked Lady
Jersey in reply, ‘ that your wife would not care more
about somebody else than about you ? ’ Why he never
married is not known. Lady Morgan, some time after
his death, published a statement that he had made 4 a
formal proposition for the hand and fortune ’ of Cecilia
z338
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
Thrale, before she had attained her fifteenth year. She
tells the story in order to support the ridiculous false-
hood that Rogers resented his refusal and consequently
accused Mrs. Thrale’s daughters of neglecting her after
her marriage with Piozzi. There is not the slightest
foundation for Lady Morgan’s story in any documents
Rogers has left behind. He made the acquaintance of
Cecilia Thrale at Edinburgh in 1789. and expresses
surprise at finding her to be only twelve years old. He
did not become acquainted with the other daughters till
January 1801, as will be seen by a letter to his sister in
the next chapter, which letter he writes ‘ after dining
with Mrs. Mostyn (my old friend Cecilia Thrale).’ The
whole of the references to the Piozzis in the diaries
already given disprove the insinuation that Rogers
stood in any such relations with them as a scornful
rejection by Cecilia Thrale in her girlhood would have
brought about. The only traces of a susceptible period
in his life are those which occur in his correspondence with
Richard Sharp, in the years between 1795 and 1801.
To the letter which contains the hint of love and dis-
appointment Richard Sharp replies in a long confiden-
tial epistle, further continuing his own romantic story.
Of this romance there is no continuation. In Richard
Sharp’s next letter he says his life ‘ for the last eight
days has been a stagnant pool, after tumbling down
cataracts and making a furious noise to very little
purpose.’ He continues—
‘ My romance will not finish, I apprehend, either in
a church or in a churchyard, as all others do, but willAN UNFINISHED ROMANCE
339
terminate in some poor vapid conclusion, or break off
suddenly, yet not before there is evidence enough of a
want of ability and resources to carry it on to any
interesting end. If men and women, too, insist upon
it that I must play an old part, before I have run the
round of younger characters, why I must submit—unless
I choose to be hissed off the scene—to perform what
others may approve, how much soever it may be against
my own inclination. The town would not hear even
Garrick in “ Romeo,” but called him to be the merry
bachelor “Mercutio,” or the melancholy and sententious
“ Hamlet.” If I am not to be the happy man in a regu-
lar comedy, I hope still to retain the old fellow in a
farce, or the clown in a pantomine. Tragedy is not to
my taste.’
There the romance ends; and we hear no more of it.
He had recovered his spirits, and turned at once to give
his friend that excellent advice for which he was distin-
guished all his life. He says—‘ Flirting with countesses
is sadly anti-matrimonial. The French opera spoils the
taste for Moliere or Racine. . . I do not]like this regu-
larity of your pulse, except as it is a proof that your blood
is not to be warmed by the brilliancy of fashion or the
fever of dissipation.’ There is a curious hint, too, in
this letter, that even at this early period Rogers had
thought of ‘ Columbus ’ as the subject of a poem. ‘ Ah ! ’
writes Richard Sharp, ‘ I hear nothing of the “ Epistle.”
The watering-place obliterates the happy valley’s picture.
You are so busy in discovering new worlds at home that
“ Columbus ” is forgotten.’ ‘ Columbus ’ was not finished340
EAELY LIFE OF SAMUEL EOGEES
till many years later. It was printed in 1810 and pub-
lished in 1812. The ‘Epistle’ was very familiar to
Richard Sharp. He had been consulted as to many of
its lines, and was an approving critic. Samuel Sharpe
tells us that when Rogers showed it to his friend from
time to time he would say: ‘ Let it alone, it can’t be
better.’ But Mr. Rogers was not so easily satisfied, and
continued to recast and to mend the rugged lines, and
when he again showed it to his critic, Sharp would say:
‘ It is quite another thing.’
In this early correspondence with Richard Sharp
there are further hints which show that, at this period,
when he was between the ages of thirty and thirty-five,
Rogers contemplated matrimony, not only as a distant
possibility, but as a near and probable event. I have
pointed out some of these hints in letters already given;
but if we go forward another year, there is what
amounts almost to the statement that he was actually
engaged. Mr. Hayward, in his affectionate and apprecia-
tive memorial article on Rogers in the Edinburgh Review,
says that ‘ his own version of his nearest approximation
to the nuptial tie was that when a young man he
admired and sedulously sought the society of the most
beautiful girl he then and still thought he had ever
seen. At the end of the London season she said to him
at a ball: ‘ I go to-morrow to Worthing. Are you com-
ing there ? ’ He did not go. Some months afterwards
being at Ranelagli he saw that the attention of everyone
was drawn towards a large party that had just entered,
in the centre of which was a lady leaning on the arm of
her husband. Stepping forward to see this wonderfulCONTEMPLATING MARRIAGE
341
beauty, he found it was his love. She merely said: ‘ You
never came to Worthing.’ This story rests on the sole
authority of Mr. Hayward. Whether it was ‘ his nearest
approximation to the nuptial tie ’ seems a little doubtful
when we read some of his confidential communications
on the subject to his friend Richard Sharp. In the
autumn of 1798 he was again at Brighton, and his
letters to his sister Sarah and to his friend Sharp give a
vivid picture of a Brighton season at the close of the
eighteenth century, at the same time that they throw
further light on the personal history both of Sharp and
Rogers.
S. Rogers to Richard Sharp.
1 My dear Friend,—I have nothing to send to you ;
but, having said I should write I shall keep my promise
by reminding you of yours. On my arrival here I threw
myself into a temporary lodging, and then flew to
Worthing, where I spent three very pleasant days with
the Ellises. On my return I found Parsons in full cry
after me, and by him was persuaded to adopt a plan of life
which I relished little, though it has turned out tolerably
well. We have taken a house on the cliff, every room of
which is like the cabin of an Indiaman, commanding
nothing but blue sea, and there we dwell a Gibbon,
having separate parlours, and breakfasting separately,
but dining together when we have neither of us any en-
gagement. This you will imagine occurs not very fre-
quently. When it does wTe generally invite a friend or
two. Mr. Matthew, a most elegant and accomplished man
of family (I use the language of the world), Mr. Walpole,f
342	EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
our minister at Munich, and Mr. Gray, the Resident at
Dresden, of whom I must have spoken to you, have been
our occasional guests. With the company I have mixed
but little, not wishing to open my campaign seriously till
your arrival, and I have nothing to relate, though I have
had a dinner with Francis, a conversation with Jekyll,
and a most sumptuous entertainment with some Cognos-
centi at Concannon’s. In the morning I walk on the
Steyne to military music, and afterwards take a gallop
with the hounds or the ladies. At three there is a full
promenade, and the evening takes care of itself. When
may I expect you to join us ? We have a bed reserved
for you, and you must be my guest. Indeed you were
uppermost in my thoughts when the house was taken.
When will you come that we may make our criticisms
together on the beauties of the Steyne, and afterwards
steal away along the cliff to open our hearts and minds
to each other, and form schemes of happiness out of the
materials before us ? Schemes did I say ? Are we still
scheming ? Little did we think when we first entered
the world and ranked ourselves as men, that twenty
years afterwards we should be still only planning how to
live, and busying ourselves with projects of happiness.
Come, my dear friend ; lose no time, for my sake and your
own. Come and find me as ever,
‘ Your most faithful friend,
‘S. R.
‘Brighton: Octr. 26, 1798.
‘ No. 8 Marine Parade.
‘ Parsons desires me to say everything for him.’LETTER TO RICHARD SHARP
343
S. Rogers to R. Slimy).
‘Brighton: 5 Novr, 1798.
‘ My dear Friend,—A thousand thanks for your kind
letters. L-----’s demands are indeed exorbitant! Had
he asked 350^ we might have listened to him. Our rent
would even then for the first 13 years be 40k—the sum
he was contented to receive for it in its best state from
a casual tenant while the furniture was comparatively
new, which together with the house will grow worse and
worse as the rent increases. I resign my claim to our
friend Tuffin, but should he also decline it, and L------
continue firm, we may at least solicit to become yearly
tenants or for a short lease. Could you procure me a
sight of it on my way to town ? 1
‘ Your first letter gave me concern—I will not say
disappointment, for you have long taught me not to be
sanguine. I lament exceedingly the very delicate and
embarrassing situation in which you are placed, hut
doubt not that you will extricate yourself even to your
own satisfaction. Remember the first break of day on
our return out of the cavern at Castleton. What a
recompense for our labours. I wish I could tantalise you
■with a description of the life I lead here, of Mrs. Schol-
let’s evening parties, where the young and the gay as-
semble nightly, to laugh, and to sing, and to play at
“ my lady’s toilet,” and where I have more than once
found myself alone among six or seven beautiful girls,
who paint, and play on the harp divinely, who devour
1 They seem to have contemplated taking a house together near
Mickleham in ‘ our valley ’ as he calls it in this letter on page 345.344
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
the books you recommend to them, and who accost you
with that voice, cette voix argentee de la jeunesse—mais
n’importe; nor will I describe their form tres mignonne
et tres formee, ce qui est pour une fille le plus beau
moment. Suffice it to say that I have been charmed
out of my senses, and I have made one acquaintance
which, I hope, will last for life. Interpret this last ex-
pression as you please. Oh that I had you here!
‘ I have read a novel which has enchanted me:
“ Clara ” [by] Du Plessis. Have you ? If not, pray do.
I have also read the “ Confessions,” against which I had
conceived a prejudice, I don't know why. I now rave
about them, to the astonishment of Parsons, who says he
has Ptousseau by heart, but never could like him. But
is he right ? Different minds find different things in
the same book. The same letters and syllables pass in
review before the eye, but what different feelings and
associations are excited. In what a different sense is it
often confidently said in company: “I have read that
book.” What a charming frankness runs through the
“ Confessions” ! How admirably he describes his silence
before those he loved, his suffering “ un gros butor de
valet ” to pick up Mme. de Bred's glove, his first and last
interview with Mme. de Warens, and above all his day’s
adventure with the two girls at Toune ; his wrant of words,
yet his rage for talking ; his journeys on foot, “ le grand
air, le grand appetit,” though I could never enter into
“ la liberte du cabaret; ” his night spent in the open air
near Lyons—what a heavenly climate !—his notion of a
fine country “ des torrens, des precipices,” not that I ever
loved to “ contempler au fond, et gagner des vertigesROGERS ON ROUSSEAU
345
tout a mon aise; ” liis castle-building on the Lake of
Geneva, “ absolument au bord de ce lac et non pas d’un
autre.” Cannot we say the same of our valley? “ Son
gout vif pour les dejeunes ” [sic]. Oh that he had been
a Templar ! His portraits, particularly that of Venture,
his whole employment at Paris “ay chercher des res-
sources pour se mettre en etat d’en vivre eloigne.” But
enough, I must have worn you out. I have a thousand
things to say, a thousand stories to tell, among others
that of our fair hostesses at Llangollen, but adieu! the
sun shines, the music plays, and a lady has sent her
groom to say that she is already on horseback.
‘ Yours most affect3,,
‘S. R.
‘ The ladies, I see, have dismounted for five minutes
at Lady Lucan’s, and I may proceed. I wish you joy
of your correspondent. May the conversion be mutual!
Poor Morgan! he will certainly die of some experiment.
When you see Boddington tell him I hope to see him.
Who but Cumberland could write an epic at a public
place ? A proposof Miss C. she has written a play and
is writing a novel in concert with another girl. Who
could have thought it ? But your coy girls are up to
anything. I wish you could see Matthew. He answers
Parsons’s idea of a perfect man of fashion, and indeed he
•deserves it. No attitudes, no conceit, very simple and
very easy; but after all, men of fashion are mannerists,
and all manner is bad. A natural character, manners
for ever varying with the thoughts and feelings, how
superior to that uniform and monotonous thing called340
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
high breeding ! You will say I am growing	,
and that it comes from living with P. I can assure you
I never knew before that I was so unlike him, though I
must confess that I sometimes envy him, and indeed,
a thousand others who elbow their wav on in the world.
•/
A hard nature frequently imposes itself on the world
for a superior nature. Its confidence seems to confirm
its claims, and its insensibility to place it above (and
not below) the reach of sufferings by which a feeling
and shrinking nature is continually harassed and ob-
structed in the commerce of life. I never made this
stale remark so feelingly to myself as I have done since
I came here. I must away, to ride with two pretty
women, and then dress for Mr. Hope’s dinner and Lord
Carrington’s ball. You will think me very gay, but I
have long found that there is at least as much if not
more ennui in society than out of it.’
A letter to his sister, written four days later, conti-
nues the description of the gaieties of Brighton in 1798—
Samuel Roger's to Sarah Rogers.
c Brighton : 9th Novr. 1798.
‘No, he has not forgotten her, nor ever will cease to
remember her, he can truly say, with pride and pleasure.
In all his castles (and night and day he is building them)
she still has a place, and when all his wanderings are
over (as they soon will be) he hopes and trusts that she
will not shut her heart against him, but will welcome
back one who is ever the same, and whose regard for
her is, if possible, increased, not lessened, by absence.THE BRIGHTON SEASON IN 1798
347
Yes, my dear Sarah, you are indeed often in my thoughts,
and whenever I shall have a home let me hope you will
sometimes at least deign to grace it. Its door will
always fly open to welcome you. Here—though perhaps
you will smile when I say so—I feel alone in a crowd, as
a thousand gay images are passing continually by me;
but, like the ombreschinoises, they leave no trace, nothing
for the heart to fix upon, or the mind to recall with any
real satisfaction to itself. Yet as you wish me to send
you a register of the follies of the place, I must obey;
though, were I to do them justice, I should exhaust
reams of paper, and ruin you in postage. . But where
shall I begin ? With Concannon’s supper parties, where
there is charming music, which you are not compelled
to listen to, where French dishes are served up on silver
chiffoirs,and where champagne goes round with glees
and bon mots to an early hour ; or with Mrs. Scliollet’s
humbler though merrier meetings, where there is more
beauty though less fashion, and where “my lady’s toilet ”
and a thousand whimsies fill the room with noise and
disorder; or with Miss Haldimand’s
where I wTas introduced on the first evening blindfold,
and where Miss Cleaver, a relation of the Huttons, plays
divinely on the harp, and looks as divinely ; or with Lord
Carrington’s ball, where I spent last night among Lady
Marys and Lady Bettys, where the supper shone most
splendidly with youth and beauty, and jellied meats and
grapes and pine-apples ? No, my dear Sarah, I will begin
with a list of the dramatis persona here, and leave my
whereabouts for another chapter. Here is Mrs. Arm-
stead (Fox is pheasant-shooting in Norfolk), who lives in348
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
a small cabin with a man and a maid, and who is read-
ing “ Emily Montagu ” for the third time ; Mrs. Bristow
who still dances	aVopera, but is now in a little disguise,
having last winter got rid of a dropsy in a remarkable
manner ; Mrs. Horsley, who looks very dull and rather
old ; a Miss Grant, who is seldom seen, but who, without
entering into these gaieties, looks very cheerful and very
well, and makes many kind enquiries after her friends ;
Miss Hunt who was once to have been married to Lord
Wycombe, and who has three mines in Cornwall with
3,000 lamps burning night and day in each of them;
Tommy Onslow, who is one instant seen in his phaeton
and six, and the very next on a docktail pony, with his
skirts pinned up, and his hat in his hand, bumping
along the London road at the rate of twelve miles an
hour; General Manners, who follows the hounds in a
low chair, which he says he gave eight guineas for
twelve years ago, and which is dragged up and down
the hills by a tall white coach-horse; Miss White, a
most charming and elegant woman about thirty-five,
who, after having long excited the admiration of the
Pump Pioom by her wit and her talents, shut herself up
in her father’s sick-room for two long years, but he is
now dead and she lives at present in Sir J. Pieynolds’s
house at Biclimond on an independency of 1,200 per
annum—you must know her ; Lady Lucan, who is illu-
minating a Shakespeare with her beautiful drawings,
and who sleeps every night in her little steel travelling-
bed, lest she should feel any difference between at home
and abroad; and Mrs. Hope, who turns up her nose
alike at English peeresses and English [customs], andA ROMANTIC MARRIAGE
349
whose little girls come in regularly with the dessert
after dinner, with earrings, and necklaces, and white
gloves. But I could continue my list till Christmas, and
shall conclude with Mr. Spencer, who is a nephew of the
Duke of Marlboro’, who translated “ Leonora,” and who
married rather oddly. When he was at Heidelberg, a
mutual attachment took place between him and the
wife of an ex-German nobleman, who became uneasy at
it, and Mr. S. left the place. She was an Englishwoman
born there. On his departure she solicited leave of her
husband to hear once a year of Mr. S. The Baron con-
sented, and immediately wrote to Mr. S. to meet him
at an Inn on the road. Mr. S. came and found him
dead; he had shot himself and had left a letter on the
table, recommending his wife as a most amiable and
excellent woman to the regard and protection of Mr.
Spencer. Mrs. S., who has nothing remarkable about
her, is just here. A propos,I have just received a letter
from Brignola ; he is well, but low in spirits, at Florence,
and desires his homage to you. Parsons and myself
are here on the edge of old Ocean, who has been taken
rather fractious lately. The spray wets our windows,
and the wind rocks our beds, and the door sometimes
requires three men to shut it. We live like Gibbon and
Deyverdun (in only one respect, I fear), breakfasting
separately and dining together, when disengaged. We
then sometimes indulge ourselves with a partie carree;
and Mr. Walpole, the Munich minister, and Mr. Gray,
our Resident at Dresden, have formed it frequently with
us. We have a decent cook, and P.’s Frenchman is
just equal to an omelette or a fricassee. P. bathes most350
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
furiously, and parades along the cliff in a flannel robe
and pantaloons. By some he is taken for the Pope, who
has emigrated ; by others for a Carthusian friar. Your
More returns her best thanks for kind enquiries. She
still excites a little notice, and is for ever scamper-
ing with the hounds or the ladies. But, adieu ! my dear
Sarah. I must prepare myself for Lady Clark’s sup-
per, where there is to be a general insurrection this
evening. Remember me to everybody at Aspleyns and
Amersham.
* Affectionately yours,
‘ S. R.’351
\
CHAPTER XI.
* An Epistle to a Friend ’—Letters from Dr. Warton —W. Gilpin—Criti-
cisms and changes in the poem—Mr. Hayward’s criticism—Rogers
and Fox, Erskine — Political warfare—The Fox banquet, 1798 — The
Duke of Norfolk — Prosecution of Gilbert Wakefield — Parr and
Mackintosh.
The ‘ Epistle to a Friend ’ was already finished when, in
the autumn of 1797, Richard Sharp enquired about it.
It had in all probability originated in conversations
with him, and it may be regarded as a poetical reply to
the arguments he had used to induce Rogers to leave his
suburban home and plunge into the social life of the
West End of London. His nephew, Samuel Sharpe,
speaks of it as ‘ a picture of his mind at the age of thirty-
five, as “ The Pleasures of Memory” shows his mind
at the age of twenty-nine. The “ Epistle to a Friend ”
describes his views of life, and his feelings on Art, on
Literature, and on Society, as one who valued cheap
pleasures, who had lived out of town, and was separated
from London’s round of gaiety and glitter.’ Readers of
my account of Rogers’s early days will have no difficulty
in understanding the truth of this statement. I have
previously said that there was a struggle in his own
mind which he turned into poetry. This praise of
country life, from the point of view of a dweller in the352
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
town is an old theme. So Horace wrote to Fuscus and
Petrarch to Colonna. Dr. Aikin, as S. Sharpe points out,
had just translated the ‘ Epistle of Frascatorius ’ in praise
of a country life. It is the object of ‘ An Epistle to a
Friend.’ Yet the life at Stoke Newington had scarcely
been country life. It was life on the verge of London,
with many opportunities of mingling in the whirl.
Rogers had seen true country life, such, for example, as
Gilpin lived it at Vicar’s Hill, only as a spectator, or at
the very most as a visitor, but that may only make his
praise of it the more sincere. He had not failed to read
Cowper, the true poet of country life, and he could not
read him without feeling a profound sense of the quiet
which a close and constant communion with Nature
brings into the mind. He appreciated what Cowper calls
an unambitious mind, content
In the low vale of life ;
yet said to his soul—
Be tliine to blend, nor thine a vulgar aim,
Repose with dignity ; with Quiet fame,
There is a good deal in the poem to indicate what
his early home had been. The partial pencil, which, as
he says, must
love to dwell
On the home prospects of my hermit cell,
needed the guidance of the poet’s fancy, though he pro-
bably drew the picture from recollections of Gilpin’s
parsonage at Vicar’s Hill. But the library demanded
no flight of imagination. It is the very place where on‘ AN EPISTLE TO A FRIEND ’	353
many an evening he had sat amid the studious silence
of brothers and sisters, reading ancient books and dream-
ing inspiring dreams.
Selected shelves shall claim thy studious hours ;
There shall thy ranging mind be fed on flowers ! 1
There, while the shaded lamp’s mild lustre streams,
Bead ancient books or dream inspiring dreams ;
And, when a sage’s bust arrests thee there,
Pause, and his features with his thoughts compare.
—Ah, most that art my grateful rapture calls,
Which breathes a soul into the silent walls ;
Which gathers round the Wise of every Tongue,
All on whose words departed nations hung
Still prompt to charm with many a converse sweet ;
Guides in the world, companions in retreat.
There are other home touches. He had spoken in ‘ The
Pleasures of Memory ’ of the family portraits—
Those once loved forms still breathing through their dust,
Still from the frame in mould gigantic cast,
Starting to life—all whisper of the past.
In the new poem the thought is again taken up and
further expanded—
But could thine erring friend so long forget
(Sweet source of pensive joy and fond regret)
That here its warmest hues the pencil flings,
Lo, here the lost restores, the absent brings ;
And still the Few best loved and most revered
Bise round the board, their social smile endeared.
1 Rogers’s note on this line is as follows—
—apis Matinse
More modoque
Grata carpentis thyma.—Hor.354
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
His nephew points out that whereas in the earlier
poem the family portraits are the only works of art
spoken of, and were ‘ almost the only works of art known
in his father’s house,’ in the later poem we find that he
‘ had gained a knowledge and love of art of the highest
class, and understood the beauties of Greek sculpture
and Italian painting.’ He had imbibed this love of art,
as has been already said, from his sister’s husband,
Sutton Sharpe, but he had not yet dreamed of indulging
it as a rich man may. The villa in the ‘ Epistle' is a
small country house, plainly and economically furnished.
Here no state chambers in long line unfold,
Bright with broad mirrors, rough with fretted gold ;
Yet modest ornament, with use combined
Attracts the eye, to exercise the mind!
Small change of scene, small space his home requires
Who leads a life of satisfied desires.
The very object of the ‘ Epistle,’ as he says in his
‘Preface,’ is to show how little True Taste requires to
secure ‘ not only the comforts, but even the elegancies of
life.’ ‘ True Taste,’ he says, * is an excellent Economist.
She confines her choice to few objects, and delights in
producing great effects by small means; while False
Taste is for ever sighing for the new and rare, and
reminds us, in her works, of the Scholar of Apelles, who
not being able to paint his Helen beautiful, determined
to make her fine.’ Hence, in the imaginary villa, where
the aim was to blend—
Repose with dignity, with Quiet fame,
a severe economy reigned.‘ AN EPISTLE TO A FRIEND ’
3 55
What tlio’ no marble breathes, no canvas glows,
From every point a ray of genius flows
Be mine to bless the more mechanic skill,
That stamps, renews, and multiplies at will;
And cheaply circulates, thro’ distant climes,
The fairest relics of the purest times.
Here from the mould to conscious being start
Those finer forms, the miracles of art;
Here chosen gems, imprest on sulphur shine
That slept for ages in a second mine ;
And here the faithful graver dares to trace
A Michael’s grandeur and a Raphael’s grace !
Thy gallery, Florence, gilds my humble walls ;
And my low roof the Vatican recalls !
In pursuance of his habit of taking counsel with his
friends on his works before they were published, Rogers
sent the unfinished manuscript of this poem to Dr.
Joseph Warton,1 and afterwards in its completed state
to the Rev. William Gilpin. Dr. Warton returned it
with the following letter :—
Dr. J. Warton to Samuel Rogers.
April 9, 1797.
‘ My dear Sir,—I should ill deserve the friendship I
hope to cultivate with you if I wrote you a letter of
mere compliment on the poem you have so obligingly
sent to me. I must assure you, with strict truth, that
I like it much. There is in it uncommon elegance and
simplicity both of style and sentiment. And the notes
1 Warton had just then finished his edition of Pope, on which it is
said he had been engaged for sixteen years. He was in his old age.
He had resigned the head mastership of Winchester School in 1793, and
was living at Wickham, of which parish he was rector, where he died
in February, 1800.
A A 2356
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
are very pertinent and proper. It is more to show yon
that I have read it with attention than to wish you to
alter a word or two that I venture to carp a little at
the following words : Page i, ‘ unvalued hours,’ ‘ ambush'd
gate,’ a good image certainly, hut the word seems harsh.1
Page 7, ‘ Fountain flings.'2 Page 8, ‘ ivoo dreams,’ why
not	wait? 9, ‘ unfelt,* the idea is excellent, and I cannot
suggest another word, yet doubt of unfelt. I lay no sort
of stress on these seeming blemishes, nor think them of
much consequence. I cannot forbear adding that I am
extremely struck with the concluding lines as well as
with the Plan and Design of the whole, and hope you
will finish it immediately. Own, my dear sir, that I
have treated you with the freedom you are pleased to
desire, and believe me,
‘ Very faithfully and sincerely yours,
‘ J. Warton.’
Rogers did right in retaining both the ‘ unvalued
hours ’ and the ‘ unfelt current.’ The latter is com-
pared to life—
which still as we survey,
Seems motionless, yet ever glides away !
Mr. Gilpin’s criticisms were more important than
those of Dr. Warton, and more influential. As Rogers
had spent his own life chiefly in the immediate neigh-
bourhood of London he probably felt some diffidence in
describing country life, and passing a eulogy upon it with-
1	It now reads ‘the sheltered gate.’
2	There is now no such expression in the poem. The line is—
‘ That here its warmest hues the pencil flings.’THE REV. WILLIAM GILPIN
357
out taking counsel of some authority. He, therefore,
sent the manuscript of the ‘ Epistle ’ to the Eev. William
Gilpin, inviting him to make free remarks and criticisms
upon it. Mr. Gilpin, like Dr. Warton, was then drawing
towards the close of a lengthened life. He was uni-
versally known as the great authority on Picturesque
Beauty. Rogers has already described him in his diary
of a journey in the south of England in 1792. He
speaks there of ‘ Mr. Gilpin’s celebrated view.’	Mr.
Gilpin was a lineal decendant of Bernard Gilpin, ‘ the
Northern Apostle,’ whose life he wrote and published ten
years before Rogers was born. He had long been known
as a faithful country clergyman and a writer of religious
and biographical books when, in 1790, he published his
‘ Observations on Picturesque Beauty.’ A series of
works from his pen on the same subject followed in
rapid succession, and before the close of the century
Mr. Gilpin had been universally acknowledged as the
great modern authority on the Picturesque. In Mr.
Green’s pleasant ‘ Diary of a Lover of Literature ’ there
is a glimpse of his parsonage in 1798 which is in har-
mony with the sketch of the ‘ Villa ’ in Rogers’s poem.
‘ Crossed the river by a causeway, and pursued its
course by an agreeable walk along its banks up to
Boldre, and returning by the upper road, struck down
into a woody dell at the back of Vicar’s Hill, Mr. Gil-
pin’s parsonage, the object of our pilgrimage; shrouded,
together with its gardens, in thick foliage. Contem-
plated, with much interest, the residence of a gentleman
by whose pen and by whose pencil I have been almost
equally delighted, and who, with an originality that358
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
almost always accompanies true genius, may be considered
as having opened a new sense of enjoyment in survey-
ing the works of Nature.’ It is more than likely that
Rogers in writing the ‘ Epistle ’ had Mr. Gilpin and his
parsonage, with the forest scenery around it, present to
his memory. He had been in the neighbourhood, and
he had written a diary of his visit, just as he was be-
ginning to write the poem; and he probably sent the
manuscript to Mr. Gilpin because of his personal con-
nection with it. Mr. Gilpin’s letter, in sending it back,
is interesting in itself, and is still more so as indicating
Rogers’s willingness to take the advice of so experi-
enced an observer of Nature.
Rev. W.Gilpin to Samuel Rogers.
‘ Vicar’s Hill: July 7, 1797.
*	Dear Sir,—I have read your little poem two or three
times over, with great pleasure : I should say with in-
creased pleasure, for that is the truth. I have seldom
met with, in so short a space, so many beautiful lines.
But though you check criticism in a printed work, it is
expected you should treat a MS. with more freedom.
I’ll tell you, therefore, frankly, all that occurred to me.
*	With regard to the whole, you seem to me (what
is certainly a fault, if it be one, on the better side) too
concise. I think your subject would not only have
allowed more, but disappoints us in not having more
—particularly in the description of the cottage and the
library. In describing your cottage, instead of alluring
us by its near and distant scenery, you give us only a
view of the pales and footpath. If it be a picture takenME. GILPIN’S CRITICISM
359
from the life, and have no distant scenery, you might
perhaps (if you did not choose to raise the idea, by
telling us what, it had not) give us a few reflections on
the advantages of a cottage entirely sequestered. I
think, too, you might have dwelt a little more on the
worthies that adorn the study; and as a poet might have
specified a few poets. A friend told me, the other day,
he had paid a visit to Lord Muncaster in the north;
and that he had adorned, or intended to adorn, a room
with one of the chief worthies of every profession. I
thought the idea a pleasing one. Lastly, I was not
quite pleasod with the conclusion of your poem. I
thought it might have ended better with a few pertinent
moral reflections.
‘ So much for the whole.With regard to the parts,
I have not much to say. Most of the lines, I think, are
unexceptionably beautiful. Point out the green lane,
appears to me rather prosaic ; and I do not think you
have chosen picturesque figures to adorn your footpath.
The	pannieredass I allow. But the pedlar is injured by
his profession. The satchclled schoolboy is neither a
novel nor a pleasing idea. The red-hooded maid is less
so : and the cry of cresses has too much of London in it.
Perhaps a man of studious hours would not be contented
to feed on flowers, if he were in a place, as I suppose
he was, which afforded more solid nutriment. Some of
the lines, too, on the ice-house I think are rather too
heroic.
‘ But now, my dear sir, I must inform you that
Mason used to tell me I was among the worst poetical
critics he consulted. And I believe he was very right.360
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
But as it is not my end at .present to display my critical
abilities, but to show my sincerity, I have no doubt but
your candour will accept what I have said in good part;
and that you will believe me to be on this, and every
other occasion,
‘ Your very sincere
‘ And most obedt. humble servant,
‘ Will. Gilpin.’
Some of the lines and expressions here objected
to did not appear in the published poem, and some of
the omissions noted are supplied. There is now the
full recognition of distant scenery which Mr. Gilpin
suggests—
Far to the south a mountain vale retires,
Rich in its groves, and glens, and village spires,
Its upland lawns, and cliffs with foliage hung,
Its wizard stream, nor nameless nor unsung.
And through the various year, the various day,
What scenes of glory burst and melt away !
But there is no pedlar now in the poem, no satclielled
school-boy, the red-hooded maid becomes ‘ in her ker-
chief blue, the cottage maid; ’ and the cry of cresses—
which as Mr. Gilpin truly says has too much of London
in it—has given place to the ‘ brimming pitcher from the
shadowy glade.’ The lines about the ice-house were
retained in the earlier editions, but they were afterwards
excised and placed in the notes, and every reader will
agree with Mr. Gilpin’s criticism that they ‘ are rather
too heroic.’ When the poem had been published it was
sent to Mr. Gilpin, who returned the following letter—MR. GILPIN’S CRITICISM
361
Rev. William Gilpin to Samuel Rogers.
Vicar’s Hill : Ap. 16, 1798.
‘ Dear Sir,—At the time I received your first letter,
and long after, I was so ill that few things in any
degree attracted my attention. I was so ill that, to tell
you the truth, I was not overjoyed at the idea of having
all the suffering I had undergone, or something like it,
to undergo again at some future period. It hath pleased
God, however, to give me a wonderful restoration, which
I should wish to return with a greater degree of religious
gratitude than I fear the confirmed habits of old age
will in general allow. I am still, however, far from
being well; though I am as well as I ever expect to be;
unless, on the return of the zephyrs and swallows I
may now and then perhaps be enabled to breathe a little
more freely.
‘ Having thus talked of myself through a page, it is
now time to come to your villa, for the sight of which I
am much obliged to you. I entered your gate impressed
with those just sentiments, which you had so justly
raised. I admired the view from your windows—I
thought you had collected your prints with great judg-
ment. Many of your sulphur-gems I had never seen
before. Your portraits and books I thought the
happiest appendages of the place. I then sat down
with you to your elegant closet-supper. Of all kinds of
food, the dopes inemptve please me most: and, as it
fortunately happened I am now ordered to drink wine
(which I almost never before tasted), I drank two
bumpers of your excellent Falernian. In short, you362
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
have entertained me like a prince; and I once more
return you many thanks. I must not forget that, as
I left your villa, I met a bride going to church, whose
beautiful simplicity and varied sensibilities were very
interesting. “ There,” said I, “ is Nature in its pleasing
innocence; ” and I could not help thinking what a happy
subject it would have been for you. We painters very
sparingly, if ever, introduce the mixed passions into the
same face : but you would have had the advantage of
us, and might have introduced a thousand varieties of
delicate emotions almost at once.
‘ Cadell has in hand one of my books of picturesque
travels. I sell him the copy; tho’ our bargain is not
yet struck. The money is to be funded, as the begin-
ning of a fund for the posthumous use of my school.
So that they who do not purchase from a motive of
choice may please themselves with purchasing from a
motive of charity. With Mrs. G.’s best respects,
‘ Believe me, dear Sir,
‘ Very sincerely and cordially yours,
‘ Will Gilpin.’
The bride whom Gilpin met going to church was in
Bogers’s volume in the short poem: ‘ To a Friend on
his Marriage.’ It is dated 1798. There were two other
short poems in the volume: the lines ‘ To a Gnat,’ and
the five verses, written in 1797, entitled ‘ A Farewell.’
It might, perhaps, not be altogether impossible to
construct out of the slight materials furnished by these
two poems—the * Farewell ’ and the ‘ Lines to a Friend
on his Marriage ’— taken together with the hint in hisIMAGINATIVE EXPERIENCE
363
letter to his friend Richard Sharp,1 a romantic episode
in Rogers’s life. But beyond those vague hints and the
story told by the Edinburgh Review2 there are no further
traces of his having really experienced the feelings the
‘ Farewell ’ expresses. It is only the most prosaic
criticism which essays to trace the events of a man’s life
in his imaginative writings. One of the chief marks of
the true poet is the possession of the power of realising
situations in which he was never personally placed, and
of giving expression to feelings which he never seriously
experienced. It has not been proved that Shakespeare’s
mental history is to he found, as some tell us, in his
sonnets; nor that Sidney, though he looked into his
heart and wrote, really passed through all the feelings
so exquisitely described in his ‘ Astrophel and Stella ’
sonnets. It was probably never literally true of him
that—
the race
Of all my thoughts had neither stop nor start,
But only Stella’s eyes and Stella’s heart;
nor of his friend Fulke Greville that he wrote in
‘ Caelica ’ the romance of his own life. There is, of
course, no such passion in Rogers’s few lines as these
great Elizabethan writers express. It is only the ima-
ginative experience which is the same, and that is the
essence of such poetry. He was never engaged to be
married, and there is no evidence that he ever made any
woman an offer of marriage.3 The nearest approach, in
1 Chap. X. p. 344.	2 P. 341.
3 I have already discussed the ridiculous statement of Lady Morgan
with respect to Cecilia Thrale, which is exactly on a par with her hint364
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
any of his letters, to the utterance of any feeling of disap-
pointment is in those from Margate and Brighton already
quoted; and it is just worthy of notice that the last of
these was written in the same year as the ‘ Farewell.’
It is not to be wondered at, however, if some of his
friends suspected that these little poems had an autobio-
graphic character. The Bev. William Gilpin expresses
this suspicion in a very characteristic letter. He had
returned the compliment Rogers had paid him in con-
sulting him about the £ Epistle to a Friend,’ by sending
to Rogers the MS. of a work on North Wales for his
criticism and remarks. Rogers kept it so long that
Gilpin became anxious about it and wrote to inquire
whether he had asked his friend, after reading it, to send
it to Cadell and Davies. Rogers, whom Gilpin had de-
scribed as ‘ such a ubiquitarian that I know not where
to find you ’ wrote from Exmouth apologising for the
delay, and promising to send the manuscript forthwith.
Mr. Gilpin then sent him the following letter—
Rev. William Gilpin to Samuel Rogers.
4 Vicar’s Hill: Nov. 29, 1799.
‘ I hope, my dear sir, you read my letter in the same
honest, sincere spirit in which it was written. I
certainly neither wanted my papers, nor in the least
doubted your care. But I had entirely forgotten whether
I had desired you to leave them at any place, and under
that forgetfulness might have suffered them to lie I
knew not where, nor how long. You gratified me much
as to a similar offer to her niece in the clays when Kogers’s memory
had failed him.GILPIN ON WOEKS OF FANCY
365
with what you said of them; but I should have been
more gratified if you had made any remarks that
would have led to amendment. I shall, however, I
doubt not, when I receive the papers, find a few remarks
bundled up with them. If not, do not again hypocritically
call me friend. It has always been my chief endeavour,
in all my picturesque exhibitions, to bring the objects I
describe, as much as I can, before the eye of my reader ;
remembering our old friend’s remark that things brought
before the eye affect us more than things only described.
How far I have succeeded I am not the person to judge.
There is, I think, another great criterion of excellence in
works of fancy; and that is the power of exciting feel-
ings. But this belongs rather to animate than inani-
mate objects. Gray’s “Elegy” will be felt when Dr.
Johnson’s cold criticisms on words and syllables are
neglected. I have often read with much pleasure, among
other pieces which pleased me, a little poem on the
“ Marriage of a Friend.” It is wonderfully wrought up
with that sort of sensibility which excites feeling: and
to me, who have so often, as my duty led, seen it
realised, it appears an admirable portrait from the life.
It is followed so immediately by another poem, called the
“ Farewell ” (which also I like much), that I cannot help
thinking there is some connection between them. If
you are acquainted with the author perhaps you can
tell me whether any history belongs to them. By the
way, I think the Marriage Service in our Liturgy is not
quite so delicate as it might be. I see no reason for
entering so minutely into the causes of matrimony: and
I think I should rather have spared the young lady her366
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
hesitating speech. Her coming to the altar with her
friends and signing her name seem sufficient. But the
other parts of the Service (except one prayer) I think
extremely fine. You write cheerfully, and I hope you
are well; but I want to know why you have been sent
to Exmouth ; and your saying so significantly that you
are sorry your sister is not with you seems to have a
meaning. Let me hear. With regard to myself, a
degree of health is a blessing at the age of 76, and I
have great reason to bless God for it. Coughs and a
few other infirmities summon me to a change, which I
would gladly persuade myself I do not regret. God
bless you!
‘ And believe me to be
‘ Your affect, and sincere
1 Will Gilpin.
‘ Mrs. G.’s best respects.’
‘ An Epistle to a Friend ’ was published in the spring
of 1798, a year and a half before the above letter of
Gilpin’s was written. It had occupied Rogers, with the
notes, half-a-dozen years, and had undergone, as these
letters show, much patient elaboration and critical re-
review before it took its final shape. It seems to have
been received with some differences of opinion among
Rogers’s friends. Soon after it was published he wrote
to Richard Sharp in apparent despair—
Samuel Rogers to Richard Sharp.
‘ My dear Friend,—I am in a peck of troubles. My
“ Epistle ” is universally found fault with for its crudeness‘A PECK OF TROUBLES’
367
and obscurity. Twiss says he shall try to read it
again, not having Goldsmith to refer to. The simile of
the floating beehives was lost upon him; and as to the
verses to Lady -------’s daughter they are, as he and
Parsons agreed, perfectly unintelligible.
‘ What am I to do ? I stand still in horror, and dare
not advance a step. Pray console your unhappy friend!
‘ S. E.
‘ P.S.—I shall expect you on Saturday at half-past
four.’
Bichard Sharp’s response to this appeal is not ex-
tant. The simile of the floating beehives is in the fol-
lowing lines, and it is now explained in a note to be ‘ an
allusion to the floating beehouse, or barge laden with
beehives, which is seen in some parts of France and
Piedmont.’
So, thro’ the vales of Loire the beehives glide,
The light raft dropping with the silent tide;
So, till the laughing scenes are lost in night,
The busy people wing their various flight,
Culling unnumbered sweets from nameless flowers
That scent the vineyard in its purple hours.
The note not only makes the simile perfectly intelligible
but renders it impossible for the dullest not to see its
appropriateness and beauty. The note to the verses to
Lady Jersey's daughter Harriet makes them also intel-
ligible by simply explaining the circumstances in which
they were addressed to her. The ‘ Epistle ’ fully justi-
fies in its present shape the long labour spent upon it.
It consists of only two hundred and twenty-two lines, but368
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
no reader can fail to perceive, as he reads it, that an un-
usual number of the lines have a strangely familiar sound.
As I said of ‘ The Pleasures of Memory ’ so, to a larger ex-
tent, it may be said of this much shorter poem that it has
many expressions which have passed into literature and
have become, as it were, familiar forms of speech. ‘ The
insect tribes of human kind,’ the contrast of home’s
‘ simple comforts and domestic rites ’ with the season’s
* annual round of glitter and perfume ; ’ the line—
Each fleeting charm that bids the landscape live ;
the couplet—
There let her practise from herself to steal,
And look the happiness she does not feel;
and other lines such as—
Guides in the world, companions in retreat;
or—
The cheap amusements of a mind at ease ;
are surely most felicitously expressed, and have lingered
in the recollection of readers and writers who have
reproduced them without remembering their origin.
‘ The clear mirror of his moral page,’ and
Scorned the false lustre of licentious thought,
are happy phrases from those concluding lines which
every reader will admit to be entirely worthy of Dr.
Warton’s praise.
Like his other poems ‘ An Epistle to a Friend ’ was
well received by the critics. The Monthly Review prided
itself that on the first anonymous appearance of the
writer it did justice to his talents, and that when after aMR. HAYWARD’S CRITICISM
369
considerable interval, he came before the world again it
was again forward to pay its tribute of applause to his
ta.ste and genius. The ‘ Epistle ’ it regarded as ‘ of a
more masculine character, without falling below his other
compositions in elegance or in feeling. It is at once
correct and spirited, classic and original.’ The reviewer
quotes with approval some original and happy epithets :
‘ His spangling shower when frost the wizard flings; ’
*	the arrowy North ; ’ ‘ the murmuring market-place.’
Mr. Hayward in the Edinburgh Review, fifty-eight
years later, speaks of the description of winter in the
*	Epistle,’ as ‘marked by the same delicate fancy which
is displayed in the “Rape of the Lock” on a different
class of phenomena ’—
When Christmas revels in a world of snow,
And bids her berries blush, her carols flow:
His spangling shower when Frost the wizard flings ;
Or, borne in ether blue, on viewless wings,
O’er the white pane his silvery foliage weaves
And gems with icicles the sheltering eaves ;
—Thy muffled friend his nectarine wall pursues.
Mr. Hayward adds: ‘ There is no disputing the eye
for Nature which fixed and carried off the image of the
silvery foliage woven on the white pane. At one of his
Sunday breakfasts Rogers had quoted with decided
commendation Leigh Hunt’s couplet on a fountain (in
Rimini)—also selected by Byron as one of the most poe-
tical descriptions of a natural object he was acquainted
with :—
‘ Clear and compact, till at its height o’errun
It shakes its loosening silver in the sun.
B B370
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
* “I give my vote,” said one of the guests for—
‘ O’er the white pane his silvery foliage weaves ;
and Rogers looked for a moment as if he were about to
re-enact Parr’s reception of the flattering visitor from
Birmingham.’
In the admirable and appreciative article from which
this criticism and its illustrative story are taken, Mr.
Hayward speaks of the poem, as a whole, ‘ as conveying
after the manner of Horace and (in parts) of Pope the
writer’s notions of social comfort and happiness, as de-
pendent upon, or influenced by, the choice of residence,
furniture, books, pictures, and companions—subjects on
all of which he was admirably qualified to speak.’ But Mr.
Hayward and those to whom, like Mrs. Norton and Lady
Dufferin, he applied for information, were in absolute
ignorance of the circumstances out of which the poem
had sprung, and of the training which had so admirably
qualified the poet to speak on the topics he introduces.
He interprets Rogers’s feelings in those early days, not
by the struggle which called them forth, of which he
knew nothing and suspected nothing, but by the altered
circumstances of Rogers’s later life. Knowing him for
many years as the centre of the most brilliant society of
the time, Mr. Hayward could not imagine him as he was
when the poem was written, standing with the open door
before him, considering for a moment whether it was
best to enter and mingle with the crowd, or whether he
should say to his soul—
Be thine to meditate a humbler flight,
When morning Alls the fields with rosy light :G-RATTAN ON THE SLAVERY OF OFFICE
371
Be tliine to blend—nor thine a vulgar aim—
Repose with dignity ; with Quiet fame.
His actual mental attitude was probably that of one
who was conscious that he should go forward, yet who
cherished an unaffected admiration for much that he
should leave behind, and who puts on permanent record
his resolution—amid
the joyous glare, the maddening strife
And all the dull impertinence of life—
»
to keep his early faith in ‘simple comforts and domestic
rites.’ Mr. Hayward, however, speaks of his praise
of modesty, simplicity, and retirement as being made
‘ with about the same amount of practical earnestness
as Grattan, when he declared he could be content in
a small neat house with cold meat, bread, and beer and
plenty of claret.’ Grattan never made any such decla-
ration. The story is one of Rogers’s own, and is told
in the ‘ Recollections : ’1 ‘ What a slavery is office ! ’ said
Grattan in one of his talks with Rogers, at Fredley
Farm, at Tunbridge Wells, or at St. James’s Place; ‘ to
be subject to the whims of those above you, and the
persecutions of those beneath you ; to dance attendance
on the great, to be no longer your own master. No,
give me a cottage and a crust—plain fare and quiet,
and small beer and — ’ be added, lowering his voice and
smiling with his usual archness—‘ claret! ’ The con-
trast between these two versions of Grattan’s words is a
fair illustration of the difference between Rogers’s stories
1 P. 104, second edition.
b b 2372
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
as he told them himself, and the same stories as they
were afterwards recounted from the imperfect memories
of his auditors. To compare this expression of Grattan's
with the tone of Rogers’s poem is absurd. The one was
half a joke—the other was the expression of serious
thoughts. Rogers had not dreamed, as yet, of the
exquisite home in St. James’s Place where, for fifty
years his friends saw him, like a picture in its appro-
priate frame and placed in fit surroundings, and regarded
him as the impersonated spirit of the scene. ‘ He
cultivated art as yet—’ says his nephew—‘ only as a
student and with economy. He had not begun to form
his own valuable collection ; and the works of art therein
recommended to our purchase are not pictures and
marbles, but copies from the antique in plaster and
sulphur, and engravings after Italian painters.’ He was,
in fact, just setting out on his career of art patronage
and social success. He had two homes—one at Stoke
Newington, the other in chambers in Paper Buildings,
and he was gradually deciding between them. The last
lines of the * Epistle ’ are a record of his experience in the
five years before it was published—
One fair asylum from tlie world he knew,
Who boasts of more (believe the serious strain)
Sighs for a home, and sighs alas ! in vain.
Through each he roves, the tenant of a day,
And, with the swallow, wings the year away.
About this period he wrote in his Commonplace Book
the sentence^which was incorporated in his last note to
the poem : ‘ The master of many houses has no home.’LEAVING THE OLD HOME
373
The decision was probably taken during or after
his autumn visit to Brighton and the formation of
his friendship with Lady Jersey in 1797. In the fol-
lowing June, after the ‘ Epistle ’ had been published in
the spring, he finally gave up the home on Newington
Green, and lived in his chambers, alone. His brother
Henry had already taken a house at Highbury Terrace,
with his sister Sarah ; and his sister Maria Sharpe, who
had taken her children there for a summer holiday in
1798, speaks of Highbury Terrace at that time as ‘ quite
a gay place, more like the seaside than anything else.’
The old house at Newington Green was put into the
hands of an auctioneer for sale, and Rogers’s fastidious
taste was greatly annoyed by the advertised description
of the place. ‘I should never have known it,’ writes
Maria Sharpe to her sister Sarah, ‘ if the place had not
been mentioned. I read it to Mr. Sharpe and Catharine
without their at all making it out. I am sorry they
have dressed an old friend in borrowed ornaments.’ In
these letters there are frequent glimpses of Sam, as he
is always called. ‘ His room is much improved since
you saw it,’ she tells her sister in May 1797. He is
often at Sutton Sharpe’s; and Flaxman and Opie and
Stothard are spoken of with Richard Sharp and the
Barbaulds, the Boddingtons, and the families of the
Towgoods and Mallets. One day there is a party at
Richmond to which Sam has invited them. He and R.
Sharp, who is present, are very fond of Richmond, but
R. Sharp monopolises the poet, and Maria complains
that he deserted them. Anotlier-time she remarks to
her sister Sarah: ‘ What very pretty presents he ma1 es374
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
to you ! Is it not well to be the single sister ? ’ The
question is asked in 1800, and for fifty years after it
Miss Rogers had every reason to answer yes.
It was Rogers’s custom in these years to get his.
friends together pretty frequently to dinner and evening-
parties in his chambers, and the meal or refreshments
were sent in from the ‘ Mitre '—still a well-known tavern
in a court out of Fleet Street. Among the stories he
told in later years Mr. Hayward has preserved one
which relates to one of these dinners. Rogers had
invited Fox, Sheridan, Erskine, Perry (of the Morning
Chronicle), and other Whig notables to dinner, and as-
usual had ordered it at the ‘ Mitre.’ These dinners
usually came in by instalments—as Sydney Smith
reminds us, when, arriving just as some portion of the
repast was being delivered, he exclaimed : ‘ I knew I was.
in time, for though the turtle had the start of me I
fairly headed the turbot.’ The guests on this occasion,,
however, had the start of the turtle. The dinner-hour
came, the guests were in the drawing-room, but there
was no dinner. ‘ I quietly stole out,’ said Rogers, ‘ and
hurried to the “Mitre.” “What has become of my
dinner ? ” I asked. “ Your dinner, sir ? Your dinner is
for to-morrow ! ” I stood aghast, and for a moment plans
of suicidal desperation crossed my brain, when the tavern-
keeper relieved me from my perplexity by saying that
he had so many dinners on hand that mine, if ever
ordered, had escaped his recollection altogether. “ Many
dinners on hand, have you ? Then if you will send me
the best dish from each of them I will pay you double ;
and if you won’t you shall never see my face again.”RECOLLECTIONS OF FOX
375
As I was a good customer lie chose the more prudent
and profitable alternative, and after an hour’s waiting
my guests were seated and served.’ 4 And how did the
dinner go off ? ’ 4 Oh, very well! They got a bad dinner,
but they got a good story to tell against me.’
He had already begun to make those notes of his
conversations with eminent and celebrated men which
gave so much pleasure to his guests in later years. In
the charming volume of 4 Recollections,’ edited in 1859 by
his nephew Mr. William Sharpe, the first conversation
with Fox which is recorded took place on the 19th of
March 1796. He had met Fox before, but this time he
seems to have engaged in conversation with the great
statesman. The first occasion illustrated the 4 playful-
ness ’ which Rogers in his prefatory note attributes to
Fox. The latter exhibits—to quote Rogers’s words—4 his
love of letters and his good nature in unbending himself
to a young man.’ The conversation took place at the
dinner table of William Smith, the well-known Unitarian
member for Norwich, and the champion in the House
of Commons of the rights of Dissenters in the days when
the Test and Corporation Acts and other oppressive
measures remained unrepealed. There were present,
besides Fox and Rogers, Dr. Parr, George Tierney, John
Courtenay, Sir Francis Baring, Dr. Aikin (the eminent
brother of Mrs. Barbauld), Mackintosh, and Sir Philip
Francis. Sheridan sent an excuse. Rogers dined with
Fox again at Serjeant Heywood’s on the 10th of Decem-
ber 1796, when Lord Derby, Lord Stanley, Lord Lauder-
dale, Lambton, (the member for Durham), and Brogden
constituted the party. On another day he puts on record376
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
his meeting Fox in June 1798 at the Parle Gate at
Penshurst. He was mounted on a pony, and dressed
in a fustian shooting-jacket and a white hat. Mrs.
Armstead was in a whisky. This was a kind of light
carriage, so called because it was built for rapid motion,
and whisked along. Its familiar name was a tim-whisky.
The conversation on these occasions is made by the
< Recollections ’ familiar to every reader. There is a
glimpse of Fox in a letter from Thomas Erskine, after-
wards Lord Erskine, to Rogers, published in the Notes to
the ‘ Recollections ’ (page n). It is dated the 17th of
July 1798 : ‘ I called yesterday on Fox at St. Anne’s, and
found him drawing a pond to please an Eton boy, a son
of the Bishop of Down. I told him he was committing
a double crime, killing the poor fish and ruining Coss—
for Coss has a perpetual holiday there. He left off,
and we had some talk on the times. He has no hope.’
There is another short letter from Erskine without date,
but written on paper bearing the water-mark 1799, and
addressed to Rogers at Paper Buildings. It shows that
at this period Rogers and Erskine had not yet established
the close intimacy which marked their later years.
Thomas Erskine to Samuel Rogers.
‘ Dear Sir,—The little, foolish, and too ill-natured
epigram which I gave you was incorrect; it should
have been as below :—
‘ Some newspapers to blot the fame
That waits on Fox’s patriot name,
By misreporting damn bis praise.POLITICAL WARFARE IN 1799
377
But then in far more bitter spite
Against a hapless courtly wight
They truly print what M—d says !
‘ Yours ever,
‘T. E.’
There is no difficulty in identifying the name of the
* courtly wight.' He was Sir John Mitford, Attorney-
General in 1799, Speaker of the House of Commons in
1801, and afterwards Lord Bedesdale. The epigram
brings out one of the methods of political warfare which
were adopted in those early days of the press, but which
have been happily altogether outgrown. One of the hap-
piest features of political controversy in these days is
the fulness and fairness with which the chief newspapers
of all shades of politics report the political speeches of
their leading opponents. In these dark closing years of
the eighteenth century political passion ran high in this
country, stirred by the violent movement in France. It
was quite common to accuse prominent politicians of
being in communication with the enemy, and the usual
explanation given by the supporters of the Government
for Fox’s opposition to the war, was, that he was in the
pay of France. Walpole in one of his letters had made the
accusation against Wilkes, and it seems to have become
a common weapon of political warfare. YValpole said
that he was as sure that Wilkes was in the pay of France
as of any fact he knew7; and there were a thousand
lesser Walpoles in the last decade of the eighteenth
century who were not only sure of it with respect to
Fox, but wTho professed to know the exact amount he
received, the time it vras paid, and the persons who378
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
conducted the transaction. Writing to Lord Webb Sey-
mour so late as the 26th of December 1805, Francis
Horner says: ‘ I could name to you gentlemen with good
coats on, and good sense in their own affairs, who believe
that Fox did actually send information to the enemy
in America, and is actually in the pay of France.’1 In
the days of the Anti-Jacobin- this charge was con-
stantly urged against the journals and the statesmen
that opposed the Government. The Anti-Jacobin in-
sinuates it against the Morning Chronicle, which, with
the Morning Post, were the leading journals of ‘Jaco-
binism.’ The spirit of the time when Erskine wrote to
Rogers that Fox had no hope, is forcibly illustrated by
an event in which many of Rogers’s personal friends,
and in all probability Rogers himself, took part; and
which may have tended to produce the despondency Fox
felt in that gloomy year. There was a great gathering
at the ‘ Crown and Anchor ’ on Fox’s birthday, the 24th
of January, 1798. Two thousand people were present,
among them the Duke of Bedford, Lord Lauderdale,
Lord Oxford, Sheridan, Tierney, Erskine, and Horne
Tooke. Lord John Russell3 was one of the stewards, and
presided in one of the rooms. After the health of Fox
had been drunk the Duke of Norfolk, as chairman, gave
several other toasts. These were : ‘ The Rights of the
People ; ’ ‘ Constitutional Redress of the Wrongs of the
People ; ’ ‘A speedy and effectual Reform of the Repre-
1	Horner’s Memoirs ancl Correspondence, vol. i. p. 323.
2	The Anti-Jacobin issued its first number on the 20th November,
1797^ and the last—the 36th—on July 9th, 179S.
3	Afterwards the sixth Duke of Bedford ; father of the Lord John
Bussell of the Beform Bill era.GILBERT WAKEFIELD’S PROSECUTION
379
sentation of tlie People in Parliament;' £ The genuine
Principles of the British Constitution ; ’ £ The People of
Ireland: may they be speedily restored to the Blessings
of Law and Liberty ! ' ‘ The Cause of Liberty all over the
World; ’ and £ The Freedom of the Press, and Trial by
Jury.’ A chronicler of the time says that the seditious
and daring tendency of these toasts had not passed un-
noticed. The Anti-Jacobin which published a carica-
ture report of the proceedings, reminded the Duke that,
under another Sovereign than the Sovereign people, £ he
now holds the lieutenancy of the West Biding of the
County of York and the command of a regiment of
militia.’ From both these offices the Duke was imme-
diately dismissed.
The dangers of the times, however, came more imme-
diately home to Bogers and his friends by the prosecu-
tion of the Bev. Gilbert Wakefield for a pamphlet on the
Income Tax, in reply to the Bishop of Llandaff. Wake-
field had been a friend of Bogers’s father, who speaks of
him in a letter in a preceding chapter. He had come
to London from Nottingham in 1790 to undertake the
duties of the classical professorship in the college then
just established at Hackney, of which Thomas Bogers was
chairman. He failed to agree with his colleagues, and
left the college in 1791. He continued, however, to be
one of the friends of the Bogers family, and was regarded
by Samuel Bogers as one of those
Guides of my life, instructors of my youth,
Who first unveiled the hallowed form of truth ;
whom he apostrophises in the first part of £ The380
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
Pleasures of Memory.’ Gilbert Wakefield’s pamphlet was
as mild as the toasts at the Fox dinner, hut it seems to
have been thought that the time had come for the pro-
secution of some person whose position would make his
condemnation strike terror into others; or, as Dr. Aikin
says: ‘ a victim to the liberty of the press, of name and
character to inspire a wide alarm, was really desired.’
Gilbert Wakefield was therefore selected for the sacrifice,
and no pains was spared to secure his conviction. He
was not attacked at once. Johnson and Jordan, the
booksellers who sold the pamphlet, were first tried, and
sentenced—the former to a fine of fifty pounds and six
months’ imprisonment; the latter to a year’s confine-
ment. Mr. Cutliell, the publisher, was also punished;
and then the blow fell on the gentle scholar and divine.
He was tried, found guilty, and sentenced to two years
imprisonment in Dorchester gaol. This fierce blow at
freedom of discussion created almost a panic. Gilbert
Wakefield’s friends did all that could be done to modify
the rigour of his confinement, and Fox kept up with him
that learned correspondence which had been begun in
happier circumstances, and which was afterwards pub-
lished. Many of the Whigs made Wakefield’s prison
cell the object of a pious pilgrimage; and Rogers and
his sister Sarah were among them. The utmost con-
sideration was shown to Wakefield by his gaolers, but the
imprisonment shortened his life, and he died less than
four months after his liberation in 1801. To the end of
his life Rogers never failed to speak of him with affec-
tion and regard, and of his prosecution and sentence as
infamous. It brought home in the strongest way to himPARR AND MACKINTOSH
381
and to liis friends the full nature of the oppression
which they held to justify the Whigs for seceding for a
time from a House of Commons which kept such a
Government in power.
In his ‘ Recollections' of Fox Rogers tells the story, as
repeated by Fox in 1805, of an apparently discourteous
reply of Dr. Parr to Mackintosh. The same story is also
told in Mr. Dyce's book. Mr. Dyce reports Rogers as
saying that when he read to Parr the account of
O’Quigley’s death—who had been hanged on Penenden
Heath for a traitorous correspondence with France—the
tears rolled down his cheeks. His reply to Mackintosh
arose out of a conversation on the subject at a party at
which many Whigs were present. Parr said O’Quigley
was no impostor, that he died in the conviction that the
cause in which he intrigued and suffered was a good one.
‘ I am hurt,5 rejoined Mackintosh, ‘ to hear Dr. Parr
employing his great talents in defence of such a wretch
as O’Quigley, who was as bad a man as could possibly be.'
‘ No, no, Jamie,’ responded Dr. Parr ; ‘ not so bad a man
as could possibly be : for, recollect 0’Quigley was a priest
—he might have been a lawyer ; he was an Irishman—he
might have been a Scotchman ; he was consistent, Jamie
—he might have been an apostate.’ I tell the story, as it
is given by the Rev. C. Colton in the notes to his satire,
‘ Hypocrisy.’ It has no meaning, however, apart from the
explanation Colton gives and Rogers omits, that Parr and
many of Mackintosh’s friends were greatly pained at what
some of them regarded as Mackintosh’s political apostasju
Rogers has himself recorded that Mackintosh had con-
fessed to Burke some change of view; and at a later382
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
period he tells us that Fox resented Mackintosh’s
JL
acceptance of the recordership of Bombay from the then
existing Government. The slight indications all these
circumstances give of Rogers’s political position in the
closing years of the century combine together to prove
that he and his circle of intimate friends held firmly to
their Whig principles, and that though he took little
part in public movements, he heartily concurred with
them in holding aloof from all contact or sympathy with
a Government which was, as they held, betraying consti-
tutional freedom in the house of its friends.383
CHAPTER XII.
* The Pursuits of Literature ’—A winter at Exmouth—Classical reading
—George Steevens—Jackson of Exeter—Letters to Richard Sharp—
Dr. Moore's ‘ Mordaunt ’—Dr. Moore’s death—Bichard Sharp and
Fredley—Brighton in 1801.
The contrast presented by the beginning and the end
of the last chapter, which opened with poetry and the
praise of country life, and closed with political persecu-
tion and danger, aptly illustrates Rogers’s life during
these gloomy years. How completely he was able to
live in his poetry, is shown by the entire absence from
it of any allusion to the outer world of politics. The
chief literary excitement of this period was caused by
the publication of the satirical poem, ‘The Pursuits of
Literature,’ which appeared in parts, the first in 1794,
the second and third in 1796, and the fourth in 1797.
There was nothing in the poem itself to call attention to
it. It is a feeble imitation of Gifford. But it was made
the vehicle of an immense bundle of Notes, full of
personal attacks on all the chief Liberals of the time.
The first part of the poem has only two hundred and
fifty lines ; but there are many pages which contain but
one line or two, and all the rest of the page is ‘ notes.’
In this way the first part swelled to a volume of more
than a hundred pages. The authorship of the poem was384
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
at first a mystery; and the magazines were full of spe-
culations about it. It was at last discovered to be by
T. J. Mathias. He was a friend of Rogers’s, though of
different politics, and Rogers had a good deal of inter-
course with him in succeeding years. It is a testimony
to Rogers’s literary position that the political satirists of
the period usually let him alone. One of the persons
attacked in the notes was Dr. .Joseph Warton, whose
‘Life of Pope ’ was described as ‘ A Commonplace Book
upon Pope.’ He was, himself, spoken of as * drivelling
on the page of Pope ; ’ and a dozen pages of notes were
devoted, with all the capitals and italics by which feeble
writers attempt to make their sentences emphatic, to
what was intended to be a very severe assault upon him
as a poet, a critic, and a biographer. Warton wrote to
Rogers about it, speaking of Mathias as his ‘ pious critic,’
but Rogers agreed with some of the criticism, as Warton
had printed some things—such as the ‘ Imitation of the
Second Satire of the First Book of Horace '—which Pope
had never publicly acknowledged as his own. Nothing in
later times has created quite such an excitement and hub-
bub among literary men as this book. It was an early
product of the reaction the French Revolution had pro-
duced. Scarcely a single writer who was on the Liberal side
escaped, and gross personalities were used in an attempt
to throw discredit on them. Rogers, who knew Steevens,
used to say that Steevens had said to Mathias : ‘ Well,
since you deny the authorship of “ The Pursuits of
Literature,” I need have no hesitation in telling you that
the person who wrote it is a liar and a blackguard! ’
Rogers one day asked Mathias whether he had writtenDREAMING- ON PARNASSUS
385
it, and Matliias replied : ‘ Can you suppose that I am the
author of the poem when you are not mentioned in it ?'
But some time after this Lord Bessborougli, who was
getting up an illustrated edition with portraits, asked
Rogers for his portrait for the purpose. Rogers said :
‘ Why—there is no mention in it of me ! ’ Lord Bess-
borougli, however, turned to the note in which the
observation is made that: ‘ Time was when bankers were
as stupid as their guineas could make them; ’ but now
Mr. Dent is a speaker, 1 Sir Robert has his pencil and
his canvas, and Mr. Rogers dreams on Parnassus, and
if I am rightly informed there is a great demand among
his brethren for “ The Pleasures of Memory.” ’
After the publication of ‘ An Epistle to a Friend ’
Rogers seems to have devoted himself to a general course
of reading and to the careful study of the principles of
art as applied to household furnishing. He was thinking
in these years of the ‘ one fair asylum from the world ; ’
the ‘ one chosen seat that charms with various view; ’ of
this calm recess, so richly fraught
With mental light and luxury of thought ;
in which the life of the hero of the £ Epistle ’ £ steals on/
of the humble walls which, thanks to £ the faithful
graver,’ £ thy gallery Florence gilds,’ and the low roof
which £ the Vatican recalls.' His first step, however, was
the taking of a course of classical literature. His health
at this time was very precarious, and he seems to have
suffered a good deal mentally from the gloomy aspect of
the times. In London he must necessarily live among
men who were absorbed'in the great struggle which the386
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
Whigs were carrying on against the war and the Govern-
ment. But away from London, whether he was at
Margate, or at Brighton, or travelling, he put all these
anxieties aside and, as his letters show, plunged into
the social gaieties of the place and of the season. This,
however, was not the case in the winter of 1799. In
the autumn of that year his health was so delicate that
Dr. Moore insisted that he should spend the winter in
Devonshire. There was no obstacle to his doing so.
The business in Freeman’s Court was falling more and
more under the management of his brother Henry,
whose ability Samuel Rogers was able to trust implicitly.
Henry Rogers was now five-and-twenty, and with the
other partners had relieved his brother of all concern
for the bank when it was needful for him to go away.
He therefore took Dr. Moore’s advice, and went to winter
at Exmouth in 1799-1800.
He made this enforced stay on the Devonshire coast
a kind of studious exile. He had left school compara-
tively early, and had not done much classical reading.
He knew a good deal of Latin, and something of Greek,
but he had formed the desire to make himself acquainted
with the great writers of antiquity. He could not now
rub up his classics sufficiently to enable him to read
them in the original, and he consequently furnished
himself with the best English and French translations.
These translations he read with the utmost care, making
elaborate notes and criticisms upon them as he went
along. There are two volumes of a diary of his readings
which show that almost every day had its task, and that
the task was well and patiently done. Three or fourHERODOTUS	FEESUS THUCYDIDES 387
months thus spent were felt to be well spent. They
made a great addition to his knowledge, and the vantage-
ground thus gained he never permitted himself to lose.
There is no need to reproduce these diaries. One of his
notes, however, I may extract as illustrating his views.
Recording the completion of his reading of Herodotus
Rogers writes —
‘ It is with regret that I take leave of this pleasant
old man. Of his accuracy as a naturalist Boerliaave has
remarked that daily observation has confirmed almost
all he has said, and every page shows his diligence in
collecting materials. Less severe than Thucydides, he
delights in little circumstances not closely connected
with his subject, and is fond of expressing on all occa-
sions his own thoughts and feelings. Less frequent and
prolix in his speeches, he sometimes rises into grandeur,
and particularly in the discourse of Xerxes at the Helles-
pont. In one respect he has greatly the advantage.
Thucydides has followed the order of times, Herodotus
that of things. Perhaps his history is too much scattered,
hut it is written with a charming simplicity. His was
the vast design of a universal history, and the Greek
and the Barbarian have equal favour in his eyes. He
has given us nothing, perhaps, like the oration of Peri-
cles, or the closing scene at the siege of Syracuse, but
the invasion of Scythia by Darius is incomparably simple
and sublime, and perhaps no passage in any historian
is so interesting as his account of the defence at Thermo-
pylae. The slow approach of the Persian army and that
stillness of despair with which the Greeks await its
c c 2388
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
arrival, make an impression on the mind which must
last for life.’
Another aspect of this Exmouth life is given in the
following letters :—
Samuel Rogers to Henry Rogers.
‘ Exmouth : 23 Novr. ’99.
£ My dear Henry,—I answered your letter by return
of post, and hope you received mine. I presume the
business is in train, and that everything goes on to your
satisfaction. If I am in the least wanted let me know,
and I shall think little of the journey—not that I am yet
tired of being here, though my friend Maltbv says I shall
soon be. I have never, indeed, in my life spent so many
solitary hours, yet perhaps have never been so busy, and
can truly say I have been less alone than I have often
been in the midst of society. I have read Xenophon’s
<£ Memorabilia ” and history, and am now half-way on my
journey through Larclier's Herodotus ; and have, indeed,
a course of reading for six months before me, even in my
present state of life. As to my health, I think it cer-
tainly as good as at Tunbridge, though my breast at times
is very painful, but I eat and sleep and enjoy myself.
My breath is rather shorter than it was, and I am a little
out of humour with the roads of this country, which are
very stony and admit of no pace safely but a jog-trot,
which jars me. I have, however, a little bit of sandy
common between me and the river, under the bank on
which I live, and on that I exercise in still weather.
The walk along the rsands is very delightful, and con-EXILE AT EXMOUTII
389
tinues at low water for miles under very romantic rocks.
The shore is strewed with weeds and pebbles, which
afford much more amusement, particularly the last, than
I had apprehended. Lord Rolle’s hounds are within
three miles of me; I met them this morning on the
Sidmoutli Road, but the distance is too great for me to
derive any amusement even in my way from them.
‘ I am much obliged to you for the newspapers, which
•come regularly. Indeed, I am very luxurious in that
article of news, being furnished with the three evening
papers regularly after sunset from the libraries. What
a strange world we live in! These consuls (how they
must laugh in their sleeves !) will not immediately de-
velop their plan, whatever it may be ; but it will be
amusing to see what two such men, such a head and
such a hand, will do if left to themselves in Europe.
Before I left town I sent Maria the receipt for bread
sauce. I hope Sarah has it. I have put up a few Pira-
nesis in my room, and they please me every hour. It is
odd enough that I should find two drawings hung up there
of Stothard’s. Upon examining them I find they are
copies of two of mine by a young lady. They look very
well, and I am glad to find they make such good furni-
ture. If John should apply to you again, may I trouble
you to say, as from me, to anybody, that I believe him
to be sober and diligent, and in every respect qualified
to make a good servant ? My present man pleases me
very much ; he is cheerful and obliging, and much more
attentive than John. I am glad to find that Dan has
settled somewhere, though I wish it had been nearer
town. I hope it will improve upon him. 1 suppose390
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
Bretell has acknowledged the receipt of the writings I
sent him. Mr. Jackson speaks with great respect of
Mr. Towgood’s grandfather, and enquired much after
his father. He says the picture is the best Opie ever
painted. I have not yet called upon Mrs. Towgood, but
certainly shall very soon. The Exeter Theatre opened
last Monday with Reicher, the rope-dancer from Sadler’s
Wells. Everybody goes to see him. How long I shall
stay here I don’t know. I have taken my lodgings for a
month. It is not, I think, impossible that I may fidget
for a short time a little farther westward. . . . Adieu 1
my dear Henry.
‘ Believe me, ever yours,
‘ Saml. Rogers."
The interval between this letter and the next was
one of studious industry. The diary of his reading for
these two months fills a considerable volume. There is
no reference in it to himself nor to the society he found
at Exmouth; nothing but a careful analysis of his read-
ing in Xenophon, Herodotus, and Euripides, with a
plunge into rEschylus, of whom, however, he remarks:
‘ To me not half so rich or forcible as Euripides. I
return to him with great pleasure.’
The new year found him still in exile, and he writes,
to his sister Sarah on the 3rd of January 1800 :—
‘ You fear Exmouth is dull. It is very quiet and I
can almost persuade myself I like quiet. You, perhaps,
may like to see the dramatis persona:. Here are Mr.
and Mrs. Stoughton from the Yale of Usk—neighbours,
of the Waddingtons, very good sort of people with whomEXMOUTH ACQUAINTANCES
391
I have dined more than once. If you were to ask how
we became acquainted we none of us know. On the
first day we stared at one another, on the second we
looked sociably, on the third ditto, on the fourth
ditto, on the fifth we bowed, on the sixth spoke.
This is the history of an Exmouth acquaintance, and
indeed, what else can we do ? We meet from the four
quarters, and, as our object is the same, a general sym-
pathy leads to a general acquaintance. Last week, on
the underwalk, a very stately old lady, with a nod and a
simper, asked me how I did, and we are now very thick :
a Mrs. Chantrey, the very Plutarch of family biography,
well versed in Leicestershire anecdotes, and very full of
Jack Simpson’s wedding, which takes place this week.
Some time before, on the sands, a gentleman introduced
himself to me as having seen me in town. I have no
recollection of him, but he is a great acquisition—has
travelled much and lived many years in Italy. His
wife, Lady Charlotte Carr, is a very pleasing, sensible
young woman—one of the Errolls. By the means of a
sedan chair I have ventured out in an evening to them.
With the Barings, a mile off, I have often dined, hut my
great comfort is within a door of me, by Mrs. Labouchere’s
fireside, where I generally find myself when my eyes ache
in an evening. Her cousin, Miss Stone (whose father
Mr. Ptaper knows as a brother director), is a very pretty
girl, and has accompanied Dolly, in the heroism of
friendship, to pass her winter in this retreat. They
decline all acquaintance, and I believe I am the only
person they see here, though they frequently visit among
the Barings. I was invited to revel out my Christmas
week at Cowley with the whole clan, but I did not392
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
venture, and rather chose (a symptom of age and dul-
ness, you will say) to take my flight in the sunshine of
an October morning to Plymouth, where I expected to
see some line scenery, and, indeed, I now pronounce it
the finest thing I have seen in Devonshire. There is a
walk under a stone quarry over against Mount Edge-
cumbe and winding along the sea-shore towards Lord
Boringdon’s which is divine.’
The next letter relates to another crisis in the history
of his closest friend.
S. Rogers to Richard Sharp.
‘ Exmouth : Jan. 26th, 1800.
‘ What you sent me, my dear friend, I cannot tell;
but it has done more than all your prescriptions. A
few repetitions will compleat the cure, and Darwin shall
make a case of it.
‘ Your news had been, in some degree, anticipated.
I had not forgot you and I knew that the bank, by their
decision, had, at all events, most effectually stepped in
between you and calamity. But forgive me if I had
from the first no very great faith in your predictions.
I know when your courage leaves you. “ Man but a
rush against Othello’s breast,” etc. The fury of the
tempest has gone over you, but it has not left you as it
found you. Your consequence as a house is now more
than ever established in the world; and your own in-
dividual importance is felt and acknowledged where it
should be. B. admired you before—he will now cling
to you as the man who may be truly said to have givenGEORGE STEEVENS
393
him all he possesses; and your sensations, even on that
account, must be very enviable.
‘ A thousand thanks for your kind enquiries. I think
myself much better, and mean to return among you the
Stentor of clubs, and the terror of all quiet people.
‘ Yours most affectionately,
‘ Saml. Rogers.
‘ P.S. So the outlaw is at last dead in his den ! How
has he left his books ? ’
This reference in the postscript is to George Stee-
vens, the editor of Shakespeare, who had died at his
house at Hampstead on the 22nd of January. He had
been living for some years a very eccentric life, as his
biographer in the Gentleman'sMagazine said—4 in un-
visitable retirement, and seldom mixed with society, but
in booksellers’ shops, or the Shakespeare Gallery, or the
morning conversazione of Sir Joseph Banks.’ Rogers
and Sharp, however, met him occasionally there or else-
where, and profited by his amusing conversation. He
was one of those veterans of the literary profession to
whom younger aspirants for fame look up, and whose
talk of the great men among whom they lived has the
most lively interest to the men who are following them
along the toilsome way. One of Steevens’s eccentricities
was to go down to his printers at one in the morning
and in the chambers of Isaac Reed, which were kept open
for him, to read his proofs and get all his corrections
ready while the compositors were asleep. He left his
books, with one or two special exceptions, to his niece,
Miss Steevens.394
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
Richard Sharp’s reply to this letter is lost. The next
is from Rogers.
Samuel Rogers to Richard Sharp.
‘ Exmouth : 18 Feby. [1800.]
‘ My dear Friend,—Your last letter gave me great
pleasure. It was not, indeed, emblazoned like Bona-
parte's, nor, like Lady J.’s, scented with odour of roses,
but it whispered of health and leisure and peace of
mind. With a permit from his Majy's Commrs I would
send you a few bottles of our Exmouth Elixir—for an
idea of its effects consult St. Leon, an authentic narra-
tive far better conceived than executed. Moore’s novel
has not yet arrived here, though hourly expected. It
travels, I fear, with the rapidity of a flying waggon.
‘ Our sun is not much obliged to you for your sus-
picions. He descends, I can assure you, every evening
into the groves of Mamhead.
I
‘ Exmouth, I fancy, is no longer the Exmouth you
saw. The walk on Chapel Hill is still the same. The
other to the bench round a tree has walked itself off. I
am sorry to hear you have had no vigour to write. Have
you imbibed Gray’s notion of that faculty ? 1 I fear he
was right. A sight of your old papers, however, will
surely awake it. As to myself, I expect soon to he
1 Bogers probably refers to what Gray says in a letter to Dr. Wharton :
‘ I by no means pretend to inspiration, but yet I affirm that the faculty
in question is by no means voluntary. It is the result (I suppose) of a
certain disposition of mind, which does not depend on one’s self, and
which I have not felt this long time. You that are a witness how seldom
this spirit has moved me in my life may easily give credit to what I
say.’CLASSICS AND POETRY
395<
exhibited as a most extraordinary vegetable. I have
once or twice attempted to flower. You never have. For
an account of my last effort and of yours,- see the
Jacobin Review for January, under the article of “Re-
viewers Reviewed." Mr. Polwhele is the writer. I have
also much to sav of Larcher—Homer I defer till I can
procure a French translation of which I have a high
idea. The three tragedians I have just done—and done
well; as for Euripides, he has turned my head. I wonder
whether anybody ever read him before. I fancy not.
‘ Mr. Jackson is gone to Bath. He desired to be
mentioned particularly to you before he went. He is so
altered that my servant was shocked when he saw him
last week. The last lines he wrote me are very charac-
teristic. Will they be the last ? He says so, but I will
not look that way.
‘ My verse is neither idle nor active. Jackson threw
a slur upon it some weeks ago, and it roused me to in-
credible exertions for four-and-twenty hours; but the fit
went off and left me languid and listless. In solitude 1
can conceive, but I cannot execute, I cannot finish.
£ The life I have led among those old Fograms—the
Grecians—has thrown me into a singular state of mind,
not altogether unpleasing but very ill-suited to that
gallipot style of painting which I have been accustomed
to, and which I fear the public require.
‘ When you see G. P.—you are now I suppose, properly
purified and are not to be burnt by Act of Parliament like
the ships from Mogador 1—pray thank him in my name
1 The ships—the Aurora, the Mentor and the Lark—were not burnt
by Act of Parliament, but by an Order in Council. The goods on board396
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
for an act of friendship he has lately done me. I think
myself particularly obliged to him, not so much for the
thing itself, though that was something, as for the
manner in which he did it—a circumstance which I am
persuaded is always the case with him.
‘ By the way, of Manchester, Mr. Baring, who called
upon me yesterday, says Jackson talks of going on to
Manchester to consult Ferriar,* 1 if the Bathwaters should
not relieve him.
‘ I have not seen one of the Exeter wits, though I
have received an indirect application to become an
honorary member of their club—a thing which I rather
like, and have consented to. Polwhele has been expelled
from it. Adieu ! my dear friend.
‘ In return for these salt-water effusions I shall expect
a long and succinct narrative of all your whereabouts
from his Majesty the King of Clubs,2 to the dirty drap
in Covent Garden. I am inclined to think very favour-
ably of myself just now, though I dare not yet think of
returning to you.
‘ Ever yours,
‘ S. B.
were regarded as likely to communicate infection, and the vessels and
cargoes were destroyed. This proceeding was the subject of a royal
message to the House of Commons in February, 1800, which was referred
to a Select Committee, and 41,400l. was voted, on the Report of that
committee, as compensation.
1	John Ferriar, M.D., was an eminent physician in Manchester, who
wrote several medical books—besides Illustrations of Sterne, and An
Essay towards a Theory of Apparitions. He died in 1815, at the age of
fifty-one.
2	The celebrated club bearing this name was founded at the house of
Mackintosh in 1801. See next Chapter.DR. MOORE’S ‘MORDAUNT’
397
‘ P.S. The door opens, and “ Mordaunt ” enters.
Moore has written me a long letter to prove that
“ Pizarro ” is Sherry’s chef-d'oeuvre. I shall draw my
pen against him in a day or two.’
It would be interesting to have Rogers’s reply to'
Dr. Moore’s absurd contention that 4 Pizarro ’—a mere
translation and adaptation from Kotzebue—was Sheri-
dan’s chef-d'oeuvre. It was produced at Drury Lane in
1799, and had considerable success. Dr. Moore himself
was falling into the feebleness of age. ‘Mordaunt,’ which
arrived in Rogers’s room as he was penning his post-
script, was the old novelist’s last work. Mrs. Barbauld
describes it as a very languid production. Moore asked
Rogers for criticism, and Rogers had difficulty in
evading the necessity of giving it. Meanwhile he writes
again to Richard Sharp—
S. Rogers to Richard Sharp.
6 Exmouth : Feb. 5th, 1800.
‘ My dear Friend,—Your kind and entertaining letter
was dropped by some sylph or sylphid upon my pillow
this morning. You and they have my best thanks.
Your account of yourself I don’t like, but hope you are
by this time able to visit the den at Hampstead. Pray
let me know if it is yet unbarred, as I shall certainly set
off if it is. Now its tenant is dead we may see it in
safety. The nondescript in his nest, hard by, drew his
visage, I believe. Moore is, indeed, very severe upon me.
I should like to give him a taste of my banishment. I
hope you have spent your winter pleasantly. As for me,398
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROCxERS
I leave my time to spend itself, and often for the hour
together watch the ferry-boat under my windows, think-
ing of nothing less than the oxen and sheep and farmer’s
wives that are in it. For the first six weeks the east
wind was here, and I can assure you tolerably venomous,
though I flatter myself less mortal in his bite than with
you. I was literally in a state of siege, the air was so
full of blue devils I could distinguish nothing, and my
world was contracted to the size of the carpet. At that
time, I fear, my health greatly suffered. I read for
once in my life, and though I felt no great inconvenience
at the time I have declined almost ever since. I am
now, however, rallying a little. The sun shines, and the
sky and sea contend which is the bluest. This morning
the wind serves, and our little fleet of coasting vessels is
dropping out to sea. The air is warm as summer, and
yet that Inquisitor in the Welsh wig sits coolly down in
the bustle of Bond Street and condemns me to linger on
till May. The very thought is frightful. I did hope to
return by the Ides of March.
‘ .Jackson is, I fear, in a bad way. For the first two
months I spent half my time with him, and his kindness
has affected me not a little. Among other proofs of his
regard he has requested me to take charge of his papers,
and I shall not soon forget the manner in which he put
out his hand on the occasion. Ever since I came into
this country he has faded very visibly. In a letter
which I have this instant received from him he says : “ I
cannot walk a hundred yards, nor speak half as many
words without fatigue. Sleep and I are upon such bad
terms that three successive nights I have passed withoutJACKSON OF EXETER
399
■closing my eyes for a single moment. This state of
affairs cannot last long, and I wish for a speedy change
one way or other.” I do, indeed, fear that my trust will
soon devolve to me—a trust which he had the kindness
to say he had long wished to leave to me. You can easily
conceive how interesting he is at this moment. His
faculties are unimpaired, hut his countenance has lost its
youthful character. Adieu ! The annals of Exmouth I
must reserve for my next.
‘ Ever yours,
‘ S. R.
‘ Shall I send you this bunch of primroses ? I gathered
them out of the hedge just now. How sweet they are !
My best regards to B. My imagination already feasts on
the splendours of the Villa Boddingtonini.’
The Jackson spoken of in the above letters was the
•eminent composer of Church music. One of the
memorable events of this long winter exile at Exmouth
was that Rogers made the acquaintance of this inte-
resting and remarkable musician. He probably carried
with him an introduction to .Jackson from Sheridan or
his wife. Jackson was then seventy years of age, and
was in ill-health. He was fond of talking about his early
days, and Rogers has made in his Commonplace Book
a sketch of Jackson’s life with extracts from his diary.
Jackson was the son of an Exeter tradesman. At seven-
teen he went to London, riding on horseback as far as to
Winchester, and from thence in the Winchester stage, in
which he was robbed. Arrived at the Belle Sauvage
in the dark he followed the porter through Ludgate to400
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
the Saracen’s Head in Friday Street—a Devonshire
house—where he had a wet bed in the attic. In the
morning he called on a tradesman in Watling Street
with a letter of credit from his father. The tradesman
was collecting orders in the country, and was not expected
home for three months; but Jackson was accommodated
with two guineas by another person, to whom he was
afterwards able to show7 his gratitude. He studied
music under Dr. Travers, of the Chapel Royal. One of
his recollections was of seeing the rebel lads executed
on Tower Hill. He returned to Exeter to teach music,
and v?as engaged as organist at the Cathedral. His
compositions were popular, and he became famous. He
composed his music, as he told Rogers, in the organ loft
*	during the intervals of the music,’ as he characteris-
tically called all the other parts of the service. In these
*	intervals of the music,’ when less musical mortals w7ere
praying, or listening to the lessons or the sermon,
Jackson occupied himself in writing original music with
a pencil. He also composed at home for an hour after
his family w7ere in bed at night. He told Rogers some
curious stories which give further musical views of the
relation of music to the service. A man came on foot
from Honiton to request him to play ‘ They that in
Ships,’ having heard it in the church there. Unable to
refuse him, and ashamed to play it himself, as he had
played it so often, Jackson left the church and got
another to play it. The man came again and again;
Jackson did not know him, but he always played ‘ They
that in Ships ’ whenever this auditor vras there. ‘ It is
for those people,’ said he, 4 that we compose and play,JACKSON AND THE SHERIDANS
401
and they must have their way.’ He wTas once struck
with the fixed attitude of a waggoner’s hoy at church.
One day an unknown person grasped his arm at the
entrance of Willis’s concert room and whispered ‘ But
a leaf in a whirlwind.' Jackson was a great admirer of
Defoe, and Rogers thought his imitation of him, ‘ The
Royalist,’ full of invention and written with a charming
simplicity. Jackson was an intimate friend of the
Sheridans. He had known Mrs. Sheridan before her
marriage. He spoke of Mrs. Sheridan’s countenance
when singing as like nothing earthly. When he called
on her in town after her marriage she entreated him to
sing and play with her, and he did so for three hours.
It was so unlike anything she had known for so long a
time that she was exceedingly grateful. Sheridan had no
ear or soul for music. His son Tom flourishing over a
quire of paper before breakfast, and burning it sheet
by sheet, drinking the cream and throwing wet wafers
against the wall, was the picture, Jackson said, of a spoilt
child. Jackson wished Rogers to remember that he
looked forward with great composure to his end, though
he could have wished for eleven years more, which would
about suffice for finishing what he had in hand. ‘ Sitting
with him one da}7 on the castle walls he drew a fresh
elm leaf from his purse and said he had every year
renewed it from a tree near Bristol,’ which had for him
some tender associations. Jackson died in July 1803,,
and, as a token of his regard for Rogers, left to him his
copies of the first edition of ‘ Paradise Lost,’ and of the
‘ Faerie Queen.’
The further story of this visit to Exmonth with
D D402
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
pleasant sketches of society at the close of the last
century is contained in letters to Richard Sharp, the
first of which bears witness to the revived buoyancy of
Rogers’s spirits in prospect of spring.
Samuel Rogers to Richard Sharp.
1 Exmouth : March 2. [1800.]
‘ My dear Friend,—Your gossiping letter possessed
in my eyes the elegance of a Pliny and the grace of a
Sevigne. I do not so much wish you “ to turn a period
as to tell the news.” But what have I in return to give
you ? Alas, the annals of Exmouth are scanty indeed !
Never has it known so dull a winter. But something
must be done for its credit, and shall I describe the
evening parties where scandal and egg-wine circulate
hissing hot, or shall I provoke your envy by describing
myself “ on the yellow sands,” with a girl under each
arm, a blonde and a brunette, the last lively and pretty,
a daughter of your hanker Stone, the first pronounced
and very truly by Lavater an angel on earth, a daughter
of Charles Baring, unseen by your profane eyes. No,
I will shift the scene, and describe the men who
assemble almost every day. Mr. Acland, the uncle of
Lady Harriet, the heroine in Burgoyne’s expedition, an
old man with very amiable and elegant manners, who
entertains us continually in his own beautiful little
cottage covered with myrtles, the lion of Exmoutli. Mr.
Ducarell the oracle and friend of Francis in the east,
a most entertaining fellow, the Lucullus of the village.
His chauffoir and silver dishes eclipse us all. Mr.EXMOUTH IN 1800
403
Anderson, the friend and fellow-traveller of George
Matthew, a very accomplished man, of whom I had
heard much. He is generally in my house every day.
These with an old General and Admiral who have both
seen service, and a Colonel Oakes, an invalid from
India whom Anderson calls “ The Impregnable,” having
never, he says, laughed but once in his life, at some joke
of mine ; these make up our little party. Who should
he my next-door neighbour but an old flame of mine, a
daughter of Sir Fras. Baring’s ! Her husband, a partner
in Hope’s house, is in the West Indies. She is here in a
very retired state with two beautiful little children, and
her friend and eoz., Miss Stone, and when my eyes are
weary I generally find myself in an evening by her fire-
side. The last bulletin from Bath is favourable, but I
have great fears. O11 Thursday I am to be exhibited at
the Exeter Club. My whole length over the door, as it
is market day, will, of course, attract numbers. Sir
Jno. Kennaway has written from Bath to express his
regret that he cannot be there ! ! But it is to be a full
day. You will not forget to pray for me; I fear it will
bring on a relapse. As to my health, I am certainly
better, and begin to build castles—a good symptom you
will say. But I fear I am condemned to a vagabond life,
and if not soon re-established shall apply to the Privy
Council for leave to visit Lisbon or Madeira. Under
which of my titles I shall travel I cannot yet say, but I
shall certainly go incog. In any of your evening circuits
(for you are now a thoroughbred rout-man) have you
met with the King and Queen ? Did they look in at
Will Smith’s, the evening you were there ? As they
D D 2404
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
have begun with Lady Cardigan, I shall expect to pop
upon	them and	the girls two or three times at least in the
course of an evening.
* Pray write, and have no scruples on the head of
expense, as we have no taxes to pay this year.
‘ Ever yours,
‘ S. Rogers.’
Rogers had meanwhile written to Dr. Moore about
‘ Mordaunt,’ and had made a rather feeble effort to escape
the necessity of expressing to his choleric friend and
physician his opinion of the book. Other people, ladies,
had wanted to read it, and he had been obliged to let it
go before he had done more than read the first volume.
The doctor saw through the friendly subterfuge, and
wrote angrily—
‘Woodstock St.
March 3, 1800.
‘ If you had written to me that Lady Errol, &c., had all
been applying to you for “ Mordaunt ” but without effect
until you had finished him yourself, it would have been
more flattering than that you had yielded him entirely
up, and allowed those females to have their wicked will
of him when you yourself had only laboured through
the first volume. You do not deal so with the works of
Lady Jersey. When you write poetry you can praise the
author from the works, and the works from the author—
e.g. Lady Jersey and her daughters. Well! since you
have begun without flattery pray continue in the same
style, and let me have your notion of the whole.STILL IN DEVONSHIRE
405
Don't be afraid of finding fault; as your friend Dr.
Fretful1 says—‘ I like it.’
‘ . . . remain quietly in Devonshire till the month of
May and then come quietly to London where we shall be
very happy to find you in far better case than when you
left us.
‘ Another expedition is going forward. What interests
me more, I am sure my son will be of it. I am kept
very uneasy about that young man, they continually pick
him out for new dangers.
‘ The story of the Prussians not being recalled, proves
not to be true. I am assured they are on their march
back. I have a suspicion that Bonaparte spread the
rumour of their being to act against France merely to
promote his vast requisition of men and money for the
next campaign.’
The order to remain at Exmouth till May reduced
Rogers almost to despair. In the next letter to Richard
Sharp there is a further glimpse of Jackson—
‘Exmouth: Mch. 28, 1800.
‘ My dear Friend,—If you had read my letter atten-
tively (it must long ago have experienced the fate of
the Alexandrian Library) you might perhaps have seen
something which might have led you to suspect that I
did enjoy the pleasure of looking into a smiling and
open face. But your eyes were dazzled by the long and
splendid list of “ Admirals, Generals, Colonels, Baronets,
1 Richard Cumberland, the Sir Fretful Plagiary of Sheridan’s Critic•40G
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
and Clubs ”—a list which makes me think it was you
who gave rise to the report of poor Horatia Clifford’s
hunting with men.It may relieve you in some degree
to learn—that the Club I have never attended, the Baronet
I have never seen, the Colonel is sick, the General gone,,
and the Admiral dead.
‘ Jackson came home last week to die. His legs are
swelled to a dreadful size, and his dearest friends are
denied access to him. I rode over to Exeter the other
day, and near the Cathedral met a chair curtained close,
followed by a lady in a veil. On my way back (I had
spent five melancholy minutes with his poor wife) I
looked up and saw his tall and ghastly figure on the
lawn before Mount Radford, whither he had been carried
once more to look on sunshine and verdure.
‘ I pushed my horse on, and rode home to pass my
solitary evening as gaily as I could. Indeed, I do not
deserve your envy, and could you have seen me under
all my infirmities of mind and body, you would not have
written the letter you did. I pass days and days with
no human intercourse. But I need not describe my life
—you cannot, I hope, conceive it—you have never sat
over your melancholy embers as a winter’s evening drew
on, and heard the gun of distress fired in the offing, and
reverberated among the dismal moors and hills which
abound in this country.
‘ One gleam of pleasure, however, I did experience
last week. I owed it to the circuit, nor will I ever for-
get my obligation to him who paid me the visit, even tho’
he should become a Secretary of State.
‘ I am much obliged to you for your verses—but ifWILLIAM COMBE
407
they hacl been better, I think I should have preferred a
little more of your own prose.
£ I rejoice to hear of Combe's escape from his cell.’
He will now see more of his friends. If you should visit
him again, pray remember me very particularly to him.
His name stands very high in this country.
£ Adieu! my dear friend. In a few weeks when I
also proem my enlargement, I shall certainly visit you
in your Apollo, and criticise your viands and liquors. In
the meantime believe me to be,
‘ Yours most affecty.,
£ S. E.
£ ££ The Gliost-seer ” has greatly disappointed me. We
had already read the best part of it.’
A day or two after this another letter from Dr. Moore
brought his long correspondence with one of his oldest
and earliest literary friends to its close.
1 William Combe, the author of the Diaboliacl and afterwards of The
Tour of Dr. Syntax in search of the Dicturesqiie was frequently in
prison for debt. In his earlier days he moved in good society, and was
recognised as a literary man of brilliant powers and promise. He was
one day visiting Uvedale Price at Foxley, when Mr. St. John (author of
a play called Mary Queen of Scots in which Mrs. Siddons used to act),
who was also staying in the house, missed some money. Uvedale
Price suspected Combe of taking it and gave him a hint to cut short
his visit. Combe took the hint, and asked whether they were thence-
forth to be friends or acquaintances. 4 Acquaintances,’ said Price,
and Combe went away. Long afterwards he met Price and Rogers
together in Leicester Square. They both spoke to Combe, but from that
time he avoided Rogers. He wrote the 4 Letters of the late Lord
Lyttelton,’ which wTere published after Lord Lyttelton’s death ; and the
4 Letters supposed to have passed between Sterne and Eliza ’ were by
him. He told Rogers that it was with him, and not with Sterne, that
Eliza was in love, and that he once had an intrigue with her at Brighton.
He died in 1823.408
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
‘Woodstock St.: April 2, 1800.
‘ I dined a few days since at your friend Boddington’s ;
Sharp was there, and Tuffin, and Johnson the banker—
all men who mingle knowledge of business and of the
world with extensive reading. Men who derive their
knowledge from books alone are more apt to speak
pedantically, and argue arrogantly, and often absurdly.
I never before was in company with Bryan Edwards.1
I thought him a very sensible and entertaining man;
but there is an acumen in Sharp’s observations which
pierces every topic he handles. He showed me a letter
from you, it was a little on the plaintive : to remove the
impression this made on him, I assured him that you
sometimes assumed that style because you know how to
be pathetic even when in good spirits, and that when
you were in the most cheerful mood, I was certain you
could write a delightful poem on the pleasures of melan-
choly.2
‘ Your having lost no ground during a winter so pre-
valent in east winds, forms a strong presumption in my
mind, that on the whole you are better, and that this
1	Bryan Edwards, M.P. He died in July 1S00.
2	Is this the origin of the lines which have been sometimes attributed
to Byron, and which appear in Rogers’s poems under the heading
4 To____’ ?
Go—you may call it madness, folly;
You shall not chase my gloom away.
There’s such a charm in melancholy
I would not, if I could, be gay.
Oh, if you knew the pensive pleasure
That fills my bosom when I sigh,
You would not rob me of a treasure,
Monarchs are too poor to buy !DR. MOORE'S LAST LETTER
409
will be apparent to all your friends and even to yourself,
who are not always your own friend, in the course of
this summer. . . .
‘ A rumour prevails that the French and Spanish
fleet with a considerable number of troops are ready to
sail from Brest— perhaps this may be done merely to
retard our expedition ; it seems already to have had
the effect. But if the enemy’s fleet actually escape from
Brest, the troops we had destined for the Mediterranean
will probably be ordered to Ireland. My son might
have gone in a most advantageous situation to the East
Indies—he has no taste for voluptuous living, and, what
is still rarer, none for making a fortune. When he under-
stood that Sir Charles Stewart had expressed a strong
inclination to have him on the expedition which he is to
■command, he preferred that. For my part I heartily wish
they had allowed him to remain in England during this
summer, which will be a most anxious one to Mrs.
Moore and me. My son cannot add to his military
reputation in any subordinate command. If ever he be
intrusted with a supreme command he may. . . .
‘ I now conclude with a truth, which I hope will afford
me pleasure to the end of my life : I am with great esteem,
‘ Your affectionate friend,
‘ J. Moore.’
The end of Dr. Moore’s energetic life was not far off
when this letter was written. He did not live to see
his eldest son, Sir John Moore, the hero of Corunna,
entrusted with the supreme command in which, as
Hr. Moore expected, he added to his military reputation.410
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
Dr. Moore’s health was declining, and he retired to a
house at Richmond, conscious that his work was done.
He sank gradually, and died on the 21st January, i8o2r
in the 73rd year of his age. This is the date given in
the memoir by Dr. Anderson prefixed to the collected
edition of Dr. Moore’s works, published in 1820. But a
letter from his son James to Rogers dated the 23rd of
February announces that his father’s death took place
on the previous Sunday, which would be the 21st of
February. He left behind him two comedies, with the
direction that the}7 should be submitted to Rogers and
Sharp, and that their opinion should be taken as to the
propriety of making them public or suppressing them.
‘My father,’ says Mr. James Moore, ‘entertained the
highest opinion of your taste, and in giving your judg-
ment on the works, you must only consider his fame.’
The comedies were never published.
Here is one of Mr. Gilpin’s letters received in this
spring :—
Rev. William Gilpin to S. Rogers.
1 From my couch : the 13th of April, 1S00.
‘ I left you, my dear sir, contemplating from the
shores of Devonshire the beautiful moving pictures of
the Channel. What hath since become of you I know
not; and am obliged to my friend Cadell to direct these
my inquiries after you. Indeed I have not thought of
my friends these several months so much as I ought,
having concentrated my thoughts perhaps too much
within myself. Some months ago I hurt one of my
legs, which hath given me a good deal of trouble. BothGILPIN IN OLD AGE
411
my legs are very old ; but one, I think is more crazy
than the other, and this was the leg to which I gave
offence by neglecting a small scratch, which it received,
just in the part where the great Achilles was wounded.
This example, together with that of my friend Mason,
might have instructed me better, but I was stout, and
continued walking about till the pain became more than
I could well bear. I was then obliged to call in a
surgeon, who threw me immediately on my couch, and
told me if I had walked about much longer he could not
have answered for the consequence. He then crammed
me with bark and drenched me with wine, and by the
help of poultices, bandages, and other surgical means,
he hath at length (by the goodness of God) set me upon
my legs—but without the permission to use them. In
a few days, however, he promises me the use of them.
In the meantime I would have you to know that—
altlio’ I was never imprisoned in like manner before, so
far as I remember, in my whole life—I have behaved, I
hope, very well under my confinement. I have always
spoken kindly to my wife and pleasantly to my ser-
vants ; and hope, indeed, upon the whole I have gotten
some credit in my family for my behaviour.
‘ Now I know you have been criticising all this ego-
tistical narrative, but I beg you to consider how unjustly.
When you go to a shop, and inquire for a piece of home-
spun, and they ask you for it the price of the finest
broadcloth, you have reason to complain; but when
you are charged only the price of homespun you ought
to be content. Now I ask you as the price of my ego-
tistical narrative only another egotistical narrative in412
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
return. Wliat have you then to complain of ? Go to,
then, and pay me honestly the price I set on my goods.
Let me know where you have been what you have been
about, and how you do since I left you on the coast of
Devonshire. I had, however, one more reason for my
egotistical narrative, but I throw it into the bargain, as
I conceive you will not purchase it, but with the levity
of other young men, will throw it behind you. It is to
conjure you, when you come to the age of 76, to pay
great attention to any hurt, however slight, you may
receive upon your legs. AVhether it be scratch, titter,
pimple, itching, gnat-bite, pin-prick, cut, bruise, or what-
ever it is, never lose sight of it till it is fairly gone.
Now this piece of experience, which has cost me several
pounds, I give you for nothing; and yet I fear you will
hardly even return me thanks for it. Tell me whether
you have anything on the anvil. You can never put
me into such a distressful circumstance as I was lately
placed in. A friend sent me some of his verses to look
over. I did not like his verses so well as I liked himself,
but as I know poets are an irritable race I durst not
tell him so. I gently told him he had put them into
very unfortunate hands, for the Muses and I had not
been on visiting terms these many years. I have not
yet vented my wrath at not finding any remarks of
yours among my papers; but I apprehend, if I pressed
the matter, you would give me some such answer as I
gave my friend. Mrs. Gilpin joins with me in our best
respects; and to your sister, if she is with you.
* Your very affectionate
* Will. Gilpin.’‘FROM EURIPIDES’
413
Rogers came back to London after his stay at
Exmoutli greatly improved in health and spirits. He
had added something to his store of knowledge as well
as to his fund of health and energy. The two short
pieces entitled ‘ From Euripides,’ in his poems are signs
of the mingled influences of his love of that poet, and of
the exquisite country in which he read him—
There is a streamlet issuing from a rock.
The village girls, singing wild madrigals,
Dip their white vestments in its waters clear,
And hang them to the sun. There first I saw her.
Her dark and eloquent eyes, mild, full of fire,
’Twas heaven to look upon ; and her sweet voice,
As tuneable as harp of many strings,
At once spoke joy and sadness to my soul.
Dear is that valley to the murmuring bees.
The small birds build there ; and, at summer noon,
Oft have I heard a child, gay among flowers,
As in the shining grass she sate concealed,
Sing to herself.
Richard Sharp was at this time settling in that lovely
district of Kent which is now for ever associated with
his name. It is not certain when he acquired Fredley
Farm, where he so often in later days entertained states-
men and orators, poets and dramatists, and the chief of
human kind; hut in this year he was, at least, looking-
forward to the purchase. Here is a short letter from
Rogers, which illustrates his mood at this period as well
as the close connection between the two friends :—414
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
S. Rogers to Richard Sharp.
4 8 Aug., 1800.
‘ In the hurry of pleasure, alas, my clear friend, how
we speak by rote ! At least I do, for I am never so in-
clined to he serious or melancholy as at a party of plea-
sure. But to the purpose :	I shall be very glad once
more to attend you to Mickleham, and will be at the
foot of London Bridge to-morrow at one o’clock with
my leathern trunk. Whether curricle or gig or chaise
will be there in waiting I care not, so as you do not
fail me.
‘ Ever yours,
‘ S. B.’
The next letter seems to indicate that the purchase
had been made.
S. Rogers to Richard Sharp.
4 Buxton] Sepr. n, 1800.
* Let me wish you joy, my dear friend. The work
has been yours, but you shall not keep the reward to
yourself. I will also participate in the pleasure, though
but an idle spectator of another's exertions. You are
indeed to be envied. In a picturesque view the grandest
approach to the metropolis will now excite new sensa-
tions in your breast; and, should you ever, like Combe,
visit the chapel, the evening hymn will lose none of its
sweetness by the recollection of having added a voice to
the choir. As for myself, I have been wandering, like a
perturbed spirit, from place to place, and in less than aWANDERING
415
fortnight shall return whence I came. You ask me if I
am already fascinated. I have been, more than once,
since we parted, but the ladies, alas ! were preoccupied.
At Matlock, where I waited in vain for the travellers
from the North Pole, I passed several pleasant hours
with Burgh, the friend of Mason. I am now waiting
for letters at a place which, like the caravanserai in the
desert, derives much of its beauty from the surrounding
desolation. ... I was much concerned to see in the
papers the loss Mrs. S. has sustained.
* Adieu ! and believe me ever yours,
‘ S. B.
£ Pray tell Maltby that my Lord A., an old friend of
his and mine, did him the honour to make many inquiries
after him yesterday.’
In the autumn he was again at Brighton, but mean-
while, he had written to Gilpin giving an account of
himself to which his venerable friend sent a charac-
teristic answer.
Rev. IV. Gilpin to S. Ropers.
Vicar’s Hill: Jan. 23, 1S01.
‘ And so, my dear sir, you now think you have made
an honourable amends for all the trouble you have given
me. I heard last of you from the coast of Devonshire;
and hearing nothing of you for months afterwards, I
wrote to^Cadell. Cadell knew nothing of you. I desired
Mrs. Oviatt to inquire of some of her correspondents in416
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
London about you. I could learn nothing : nor, in fact,
had heard • a syllable, till a few days ago, you came
dancing in, with all the festive confidence of a man
who had done nothing, amiss. “ I have been in the
North—I have been in Wales— and I am now at
Brighton.” And pray, why could you not have told me
this, or a part of it, a year ago ? I have another quarrel
with you. When you write a letter in answer to one
you have received a year or two before, never refer to
any part of that letter unless you know the writer keeps
a copy of it; but write de novo. For want of this
caution I have been puzzled with several passages in
your letter, referring to things now totally forgotten.
Pray, did I ever break your shins ? You seem to allude
to some transaction of that kind: but I remember
nothing about it. If I did, it must certainly come
under the head of casualties. But my wrath is now
s
appeased. I shake hands with you ; and all is well.
‘ Your epic, which you mention so enigmatically that
I hardly know whether you are in jest or earnest,
reminds me of an anecdote of Dr. Brown, author of the
famous “Estimate; ” though I think I have seen it in
some memoirs of him in print. Bishop War burton
(whose practice, I have heard, it was, to write civil
letters, and do civil things, to ingenious young men to
’list them into his service) put into Brown's hands an
epic poem, which had been planned by Pope. The story,
I think was the discovery of Britain by one of the heroes
who had escaped from Troy. Brown finished three or
four books. He was very intimate with my father,
though but an unpleasant man to live with; and IA NAVAL STOEY
417
remember lie showed me his first book, when I was a
lad at Oxford. At the pillars of Hercules his hero
makes a pause on entering the great ocean. But alas !
there his muse, like yours, forsook him. So that, it
seems, the Atlantic is the gulph of epic poetry. Homer
prudently kept snug in the iEgean ; and Virgil in the
Mediterranean. If they had ventured through the
Straits, they had probably been drowned, like Brown
and you.
‘ In return for your very affecting story of the poor
girl who was killed by the fall of a wall, I’ll tell you one
which has lately given me much pleasure. In this
parish lives a man of the name of Harnett. He lives
by fishing, and dragging for oysters. His son, a lad
under age, used to assist him. As they were fishing out
at sea, about 7 or 8 years ago, a man-of-war’s boat rowed
briskly up to them, and carried off the lad. He was
very affectionate; and, of course, disconsolate. However,
finding there "was no remedy, he took the press-money,
and it was some comfort to him that he could send his
poor parents a guinea out of it. In the meantime he
bestirred himself, and became one of the best seamen in
the ship: insomuch that the captain took notice of him,
made him first his cockswain, and afterwards raised him
to be master’s mate. He had a little ambition to climb on.
But, unfortunately, he had no friend to whom he could
apply but the old minister of his parish. With him he
had made a great interest; for he had been continually
sending money out of his own little stock to his poor
parents—not less I believe, on the whole, than 30k, for a
B E418
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
good part of it passed through my hands. I was much
disposed, therefore, to serve him; and was more fortunate
than I expected. I have a slight acquaintance with Sir
Andrew Hammond, Controller of the Navy ; to whom I
wrote in favour of my friend. Sir Andrew immediately
sent for him to he examined—and being pleased, I
suppose, with the young man’s sense, modesty, and skill
in his profession—sent him back to Spithead; and
almost before he got there sent him a commission to be
master of the “ Harpy,” sloop of war, in which situation
he tells me he is quite happy. He sent me a letter of
thanks ; and I sent him a letter of good advice. About
a fortnight ago the “ Harpy ” lying at the mouth of our
river, waiting to convoy a Lisbon fleet, Mr. Harnett
came on shore to visit his parents. He visited me also;
and instead of coming to the kitchen door with a
thrum-capon, a basket of oysters on his shoulder, and
a pair of shoes which were neither akin to each other
nor to his feet, he was introduced into the parlour—
dressed in a handsome uniform, and with a hat cocked
as bravely as the best of them. You don’t mention your
health. The book I have not heard of. Mrs. Gilpin
joins in kind remembrance to your sister and you :
‘ With, dear Sir,
‘ Your sincere and affecte
‘ Will. Gilpin.’
A letter from Eogers to his sister gives an account
of what he was doing at Brighton in the first few weeks
of the nineteenth century.BRIGHTON IN 1801
419
Samuel Roger’s to Sarah Rogers.
‘Brighton: 19 Jany., 1801.
£ By an unfortunate mistake at the Post Office I did
not get my dear Sarah’s letter till this morning. After
dining with Mrs. Mostyn (my old friend Cecilia Thrale)
I have resisted the temptation of an assembly at Lord
Tanker ville’s, and have come home to converse a few
minutes with her who, I may almost say, is to me more
out of sight and less out of mind than anybody I know
in this world. I am now, however, happy to think that I
shall very soon see her and hear her, and can even
number the days of my absence from her. Brighton is,
as you imagine, my dear Sarah, still very gay, and you
will believe it when I tell you that I have for this very
day four dinner and three evening invitations. Indeed,
I am in great danger of being spoilt; and by nobody so
much as yourself, in which you would be particularly
blameable, if you had not yourself basked in that kind
of sunshine without injuring your complexion by it, the
complexion of your mind I mean. Yesterday I spent
the day very pleasantly with a large family of the
Casamajors, who form a concert by themselves—the girls
and their brothers ranging round the harpsichord and
singing glees and anthems with a decorum and a
harmony which would delight you. The eldest son
officiated at Petersburg for Lord Whitworth with great
credit to himself. As to Mrs. Pigou, who is my great
patroness here, she is delightful. I must introduce her
to you. Not less so are two of Lady Tankerville’s
daughters, tho’ almost children, whose ambition it is
B E 2420
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
to retire into some cottage and enjoy each other’s society
for life—a la mode de Llangollen. Here is also one of Mrs.
Maltby’s sisters who was always a great favourite of
mine. She is now, alas ! married to a man of large
fortune, but who is well worthy of her. The ladies here
are in general above par, but the men as much below it.
The Ellises are here,1 * * 4 but live very privately. I am
their only guest. Here are also the Miss Thrales, Mrs.
Piozzi’s daughters. From some accident I have never
been acquainted with them, though they accuse me of
having shunned them. They are very elegant, sensible
women, and are a great addition to the society here.
Mrs. Pigou, the Thrales, the Tankervilles, and two or
three others meet at each other’s houses every day—I
should say every evening—and the harp and piano gene-
rally mingle their voices with ours in the conversation,
and make it very pleasant. I should not omit General
Forbes, the General of this district, a very amiable
1 George Ellis, F.B.S., F.S.A.; died io April, 1815, aged seventy;
wrote in The Rolliacl the invective against Pitt:—
‘ Pert without fire, without experience sage.’
In 1790 published Specimens of Early English Poetry. Wrote on the
formation and progress of the English language. Went to Lille with
Lord Malmesbury in 1797 ; changed his politics and joined the Anti-
Jacobin. He was much beloved by his friends, Scott addresses him in
the introduction to the fifth canto of Marmion:
4 Thou who canst give to lightest lay
An unpedantic moral gay,
Nor less the dullest theme bid flit
On wings of unexpected wit;
In letters as in life approved,
Example honoured and beloved,
Dear Ellis ! to the bard impart
A lesson of thy magic art.’BRIGHTON IN 1801
421
pleasant old man who has seen a great deal of service in
both hemispheres. He goes up to town this week to kiss
hands on his promotion, and I believe I shall accompany
him on Wednesday. Adieu ! my dear Sarah. Give my
love to all, and believe me,
‘ Ever yours,
‘ S. R.
‘ Among the persons of the drama I must not omit
my old friend Nicholls 1 (the M.P.), who is here with his
family. They have retired into the country, and two
months here are given them in lieu of a journey to
London ! !! With regard to the christening, I do believe
I should have been present if it had come to me in time.
You will shake your head and say I am much obliged to
the Post Office for saving me from a dilemma. I wrote
to Mr. Gilpin last week, and mentioned you particularly
in it. Indeed, I could not do otherwise in answer to your
enquiries. Pray tell Maria that I deserved more than
an intention to write a postscript from her. I am glad
Mr. Piaper has dismissed his doctors. With regard to
the tragedy I can only tell you it rests on newspaper
authority. I must have written it in my sleep; and what
has become of it I cannot tell. If it should be found
under the pillow, you shall have the first sight of it, a
perusal I am sure you would not endure. I am sorry to
hear such tidings of Quarry Bank. I am sure I should
soon die there of a nervous fever.’
1 Mr. Nicliolls was member for Tregony.422
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
CHAPTER XIII.
1 The King of Clubs ’—‘ The Bachelor ’—Rogers building—Paris in
1802—Letters to Henry Rogers, Maria Sharpe, Mrs. Greg—Fox and
Rogers in Paris —Fox and Mackintosh—Rogers’s new house—His
final settlement in St. James’s Place.
‘ The King of Clubs ’ referred to in the letter to Richard
Sharp was not actually established till the first year of
the nineteenth century. It was founded by a group of
friends who were in the habit of meeting at Mackintosh’s
house: Rogers, Richard Sharp, Scarlett, Robert Smith,
and John Allen. Scarlett, afterwards Lord Abinger, tells
us that the chief figures in its social intercourse were, in
addition to those already mentioned, Romilly, Dumont,
Tennant, and the Rev. Sydney Smith. To these were
added Lord Lansdowne, Lord Holland, Brougham, Lord
Cowper, Lord King, Porson, Payne Knight, Horner,
Bryan Edwards, Jeffrey, Smithson, Whisliaw, Alexander
Baring, Luttrell, Blake, Hallam, Ricardo, and Hoppner.
Francis Horner speaking of visits made to the club in
the spring of 1802 mentions that he met there Aber-
cromby, Tom Wedgwood, and Maltby, and that the con-
versation consisted of literary reminiscences, anecdotes
of authors, and criticisms of books. The Club met
monthly at dinner at the old ‘ Crown and Anchor ’ in the
Strand, where the Whig Club met for some years on‘ THE KING OF CLUBS ’
423
Tuesday evenings. The King of Clubs was one of those
conversation clubs which had superseded the coffee-
houses and the taverns in which Addison and Johnson
had spent so much of every day in pleasant talk. In
those times men prepared their observations beforehand,
and so led the talk as to bring them in. There is a
story of Richard Sharp having one day seen on the
desk the notes of the conversation in which his partner
Boddington was to join in the evening. Sharp was to
be of the party, and he committed to memory the pre-
pared impromptus of his friend, assisted him to lead the
conversation in the right direction, and then forestalled
him with his stories and clever things. There was
nothing unusual in Boddington’s preparations. Men
read books, recorded good stories, and reserved criticisms
on men and things for the evening talk. The two most
brilliant talkers in the King of Clubs were Mackintosh
and Sydney Smith. Sydney Smith said of Mackintosh
that his conversation was more brilliant and instructive
than that of any human being he ever had the good
fortune to be acquainted with. But Rogers, a still more
intimate friend of Mackintosh, said that he sacrificed
himself to conversation, read for it, thought for it, and
gave up future fame for it;1 and Mackintosh is not the
only man in this brilliant group of whom the observa-
tion may be made.
There was at one time a prospect that much of the
wit and learning poured into these conversations would
take permanent form. Rogers and his friends proposed
to establish a literary paper, to be called Bachelor,
1 Moore’s Diary, vol. vi. p. 292.424
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
and published twice a week. Mackintosh tells us that
this paper would probably have imitated the aim, even
if it had not equalled the execution of the essayists of the
reign of Queen Anne. The men to be associated in
the enterprise were : Rogers, Mackintosh, Robert Smith,
Scarlett, and Richard Sharp. The execution of the pro-
ject was frustrated at the moment, and never resumed.
Rogers has left in his ‘ Commonplace Book ’ an outline
of the kind of contributions the paper was intended to
contain. This sketch is amusing. It is clearly Rogers’s
own, particularly the motto from Gray, and the outline
of the ‘ History of a Voice.’
Periodical Paper—The Bachelor.
Poor Moralist, and wliat art thou ?—Gray.
First—His history : his attachments and adventures.
Last—His marriage concludes the paper.
i. On War. 2. On Courtship. 3. History of an old house.
4. History of a voice, a musical cry in his cradle, cries wild
lavender and matches, frightens the birds from the corn ;
a ballad-singer, sings with the miners in Castleton Cave,
with the singers at the parish church, catches cold, a
deputy crier, a chorister in a cathedral, sings at concerts,
marries a rich deaf dowager, and sells his voice in
Parliament.
3. Letters. Cairo flea. A11 antiquarian’s conjecture in the
next century, 1895, on a board lately dug up inscribed
‘ Man Traps.’ Lord Stanhope’s Reasoning Machine.
A Christmas in the country. A husband’s threat to a
wife : ‘ I’ll wear a wig.’ History of a Talker and Lis-
tener. Eloge upon Snuff.
Rogers, however, bad at this period another occupa-
tion for his leisure. He was designing the dwellingDESIGNING HIS HOUSE
425
■which, for more than half a century, was to be the
admiration and the envy of his contemporaries. We
may take it for granted that he had by this time given
up all thought of marrying, and settled down to the life
of a bachelor. His house, if not actually planned as a
bachelor dwelling, scarcely contemplated family uses.
He and Sir John Lubbock bought a house of the Duke
of St. Albans, in St. James’s Place, and made two houses
of it. The reconstruction thus rendered needful gave
Rogers an opportunity of making for himself a home in
accordance with his tastes, and he devoted himself to the
agreeable task with the most striking success.
The summer and autumn of 1802 offered him an
unusual opportunity for the study of art, and he went
into it as systematically as he had gone into classical
reading during his Devonshire exile.
The Peace of Amiens opened Paris to Englishmen,
and there was an immense outflow of visitors from this
country to the republican capital. It had been practically
sealed from about the time of Rogers’s visit in 1791: for
the horrors of the Terror had closed it as much as war.
In 1802, therefore, there was the greatest curiosity to see
the city over which the revolutionary storm had swept, and
which had since been enriched with the spoils of Europe.
The Louvre contained at that time the most splendid
collection of pictures and statues that had ever been
brought together, and artists and men of taste took occa-
sion of the brief gleam of peace to rush over and feast their
eyes on the unexampled sight. Rogers’s brother-in-law,
Sutton Sharpe, had gone over early in September, and
found himself in a crowd of artist friends : Elaxman and426
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Opie, Fuseli, then at the height
of his fame; and Farrington, R.A., who was his com-
panion in the journey; Benjamin West, president of the
Boyal Academy, and his son Raphael West, then expected
to attain an eminence he never reached; Shee, afterwards
Sir Martin Shee, and President of the Royal Academy ;
Hoppner and his wife, and others less known to fame.
Erskine and his son, and Travers the surgeon, also
occupy a prominent place in Sutton Sharpe’s letters.
In a visit which Boddington, the two Erskines, Rogers,
and Sutton Sharpe made together to Versailles, Sutton
Sharpe says : ‘ Erskine was in the most prodigious spirits.
Half-mad with joy he walked about the gardens, exclaim-
ing : “ What a delightful place—but it won’t keep people’s
heads on their shoulders ! ” Erskine was introduced to
the First Consul as an “ avocat,” but Bonaparte did not
understand his rank and eminence, and took no notice
of him.’ Millingen the antiquary, Townley, and Cham-
pernowne, the well-known collectors of objects of art,
with Dr. Carrick Moore, brother of Sir John Moore, were
also in Paris at this period, and formed part of the wide
circle of friends and acquaintances in which Rogers
found himself as soon as he joined his brother-in-law.
His old friend Gilpin, in a characteristic letter, which,
like all Gilpin’s letters, is worth reproducing for its own
sake, gave him a commission based on doubts which
were widely prevalent at the time.
Rev. Wm. Gilpin to S. Rogers.
‘ My dear Sir,—I write immediately, not to answer
your letter, but, as you are going to France, to give youTHE APOLLO BELVIDERE
427
a commission to the Belvidere Apollo. With my com-
pliments beg to know whether he is the real Apollo, or
a fictitious one ?
About a month ago a gentleman, the Dean of Ely,
called upon me and informed me that Mr. Wyatt, (whom
also—as you are now so united by brick and mortar—you
may have an opportunity of consulting) told him that the
king had sent him to Paris, to inquire about the Italian
statues—that he had formerly been intimately acquainted
with the Apollo in Italy, and that he was certain the
Apollo at Paris was fictitious. Now I do not assert that
Mr. Wyatt tolcl this to the Dean, but that the Dean had
been well informed, at least, that Mr. Wyatt had said
this. I shall wait, with great impatience, to hear from
you on your return—not only to satisfy me on the point
in question, but to hear you relate all the wonders you
have seen ; and to tell me whether you think the crying
or the laughing philosopher would meet with more game ?
For myself, though I do not exclude Paris and France
from the last circling rim of my benevolence, yet, con-
sidering the world as one great State, the French are
certainly placed by Providence in one of the most igno-
minious offices in it, that of presiding ove rgibbets and
whipping-posts.
After all, I think it more than probable, you may
not go to France at all; but may conclude your journey
there, as you did that to America. If you go, may
heaven defend you, and preserve you safe out of the den
of the European Cacus !
‘ Yours, truly sincere,
‘W. G.
‘ V. H.: Sepr. 8, 1802.’428
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
Rogers’s letters to Gilpin have not been preserved.
The following letters addressed to members of his family,
tell the story of this visit to Republican Paris.
Samuel Rogers to Maria Sharpe.
1 Calais, Wednesday.
[Postmark 16 Sepr. 1802.]
‘ My dear Maria,—After a passage of three hours I
sit down to fill up the interval before dinner. We had
above forty people of both sexes on board, among whom
wrere Mr. and Mrs. Howard. The lady sat in the body
of her chaise on deck. Everybody w7as ill except my-
self, who made use of the recipe you recommended to
me—a diachylon plaster, with great success, and I now
write particularly to thank you for it. My fellow-
traveller is delighted with the novelty of the scene, but
anxious to proceed. We are, however, detained for the
passport and must console ourselves with the Comedie,
which begins at half-past five. I need not describe Calais
to you. The people are just as we saw them ; the
military cocked hats are enormous ; the women’s heads
are as large as ever; and six little children, not bigger
than Sutton,1 or very little bigger, were dancing to-
gether a cotillon in the street just now, the boys with
long tails, to a passing tambourine. We had a delight-
ful journey yesterday. Lord Whitworth did not make
his appearance, but we met on the road innumerable
parties of gipsies, bag and baggage.
* After a grand entertainment of soup, cutlets, fish,
1 Sutton Sharpe, his eldest nephew, afterwards the eminent Queen’s
Counsel, whose premature death in 1843 disappointed many hopes.CALAIS IN 1802
429
fowl, partridges, &c., we went to the Comedie. The
Municipalite sat under a very handsome canopy in a
kind of state box. The drop-scene between the acts was
inscribed with the names of Eustache, St. Pierre, &c., the
six heroes of Calais when besieged by Edward III; and
the orchestra consisted of above twenty performers, as
close as they could sit, who, together with the actors,
made as much noise as they could. The acting was far
from bad. There again we saw your neighbours, Mr.
Howard and his wife. In a very handsome retiring-room
they served you with raspberry vinegar and other re-
freshments. Adieu ! my dear Maria. Give my love to
Henry when you see him, and also Sarah and Mrs. M—
not forgetting the children all.
‘ Ever yours,
‘ S. E.
‘We have engaged a very old chaise to Paris ala
Yorick. We pay 6/6/0 !!! To-morrow hope to sleep at
Abbeville.’
Samuel Rogers to Henry Rogers.
‘Hotel Marigny : 13 Octr. 1802.
‘ My dear Henry,—By two kind letters from Maria
and Sarah I rejoice to think you are all assembled, first
on your own account and next on my own, as I hope
soon to rejoin you, though perhaps at this moment you
may be scattered over the world again. As for me, my
life is a little better regulated and my mind more col-
lected, though every day is a scene of dissipation. At
first I was worn out before it was half spent; but my430
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
spirits are now less hurried, and the impressions I re-
ceive less violent and frequent: in short, I begin to be
in my sober senses. Mr. Sharpe must have described a
fete when the garden front of the Tuileries was illumi-
nated and when, with other consuls, B. sat uncovered
for above twenty minutes in a balcony in the centre,
while an orchestra of above a hundred persons was
playing a concert below in the open air. On Thursday
last I was present at a very different spectacle, the
monthly review of the troops which were drawn up
horse and foot, before the Tuileries to the amount of
about 6,000. At eleven an old-looliing plain yellow coach,
drawn by six blood bay horses, the coachman and pos-
tillion in large cocked hats, attended by many guards,
brought up Bonaparte at a great rate to the door of the
palace from St. Cloud; and a few minutes afterwards,
an English post-chaise and four of the same colour, the
boys with silver-laced caps, brought Madame Bonaparte.
At twelve, in a plain blue coat with gold epaulets, he
mounted his white horse (given to him by the Emperor)
most richly caparisoned with crimson, and black and
gold, and attended by generals and mamelouks, whose
rich and grotesque habits heightened the splendour, rode
in a kind of managed pace up and down the several files
of foot and horse, which were so long and numerous that
he must have ridden about a mile. He then returned
to the centre within a few yards of me (for I was at the
palace window next the door) and the troops marched
by in succession before him. It was no sooner over
than six or seven well-drest women (as indeed had
been the case whenever he had stopped before) pressedCONSUL BONAPARTE
431
round him with petitions in their hands, which he re-
ceived, saying something to most of them. He then
alighted, and on the staircase stopped several times to
speak to the officers. I was there alone among the sen-
tinels. His profile is very strong, and his face one dead
tint of yellow—but not disagreeable. His eyes are of
light grey, and his eyebrows scarcely distinguishable.
His head has been said by a celebrated portrait-painter
here to be une tete morte, but his countenance has a
cheerful easy character, and exhibited, when I saw him,
no very remarkable degree of thought or animation,
though very capable of expressing both. His manners
are very simple and unaffected, and he took snuff and
scratched his head all day. It was a very noisy and
splendid scene, and the windows and roofs of houses
were crowded with spectators. Fox and Erskine dined
afterwards at a public dinner with him, and he had a
long conversation with both. The troops were very fine
men, and the dresses of the different corps were more
varied and picturesque than among us. The music was
very loud and unaffecting.
Last Sunday I paid a visit to Made le Brun, the
painter, and admired the floor inlaid with precious
woods. In the evening I went with Boddington to
Made Cabarus, who lives in a most superb house,
and who received us in a bedchamber, not less elegant,
tho’ less rich, than Madame Recamier’s. Her beauty
extinguished Lady Oxford who was there, and she gave
me an invitation to dinner every day with her, while I
stayed at Paris. I was introduced, I suspect, as a friend
of Lady Jersey’s, and the similarity of her life and432
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
history to that of her ladyship may have rendered her
civil to her friends. Last night we were again at the
Opera, and Yestris outdid himself. Surely the troop of
French dancers are more like gay creatures of the
element than mortals like ourselves. Mr. Salmon and
Mr. Mallet are very busy and very happy everywhere.
On Tuesday we dined with Tallien, who was the first
man in Paris for many months. I afterwards saw
Mdlle. Ducliesnois in Andromaque, and it was the only
thing like acting I have seen in Paris. Adieu! my
dear Henry. In a day or two I shall write to Maria.
Give my love to Mrs. M. and also to M. and S., and
thank them for their kind letters. I am sorry you think
you are disturbing my imagination full of pictures, when
you write to me.
‘ Ever yours,
‘ S. R,
‘ Boddington talks of leaving here on Saturday.
Parsons, who is sitting by me and who is come to Paris,
desires to be remembered to you. Remember me to
Sharpe.’
S. Rogers to Maria Sharpe.
Nov. 2, 1S02.
‘ My dear Maria,—I am happy to learn from yourself
that you are all assembled on the sea-sliore. Pray stay
if you can, till I arrive, which will now, I hope, be in
three weeks at farthest. Thank Sarah for her kind
letter. In writing to one, I write to the other, for in
my mind you are inseparable ; and distance produces
only one effect upon me, to attach me to those I loveFOX IN PARIS
433
still more strongly. I know there are different opinions
upon that subject and I have sometimes fancied them
just with regard to those who maintain them—certainly
not so with regard to myself. I could say a great deal
on this subject, but I know you will expect other things
from me. I forget where I left off last. Mr. Farrington
gave you a full account of our good fortune—how we
stood on the same stone step with him, Bonaparte ;
how he looked at us face to face; and of the various
events of that eventful day. Henry is also in possession
of a despatch on that subject. On the next, 8th, I went
to the Abbe Sicard’s lecture, and was very agreeably
disappointed—the ingenious and expressive countenances
of the boys would have interested me for a whole day
together. In the evening saw Tamerlane—the old
Greek practice of dancing to a chorus is very delightful
and affecting to me. I had proceeded so far when I
was told that Mr. Fox’s carriage was waiting for me,
so away I went with him and Fitzpatrick and Mrs. Fox,
&c., &c., to the Luxembourg, which Fox had a great desire
to see. The next day we saw the Gobelins, the garden
of plants, and I afterwards dined with them, where I
met my old acquaintance Lafayette—once a sprightly,
petit maUrish Frenchman, now mellowed into a most
amiable man, still very handsome, but silent, thought-
ful, and melancholy. Mr. Fox has finished his historical
researches, and is now seeing the sights. This morning,
the Consul being on a progress, I saw St. Cloud, a most
princely residence on the Seine, here a noble river.
The rooms are very numerous and furnished in the most
costly manner with silk and velvet, porphyry, bronze,
F F434
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
and gold, but they were more gaudy than rich, a style
affected in their country houses. There, behind a door,
and among some bad pictures hangs the Madonna della
Sedia—in very fine preservation and surpassing, indeed,
all prints and copies of it. It was not brilliant, but very
sweet, and the little elbows and shoulders of the children
were painted in a way I had no conception of before.
The mother’s countenance rather fell short of my hopes,
which had been raised extravagantly, but I was hurried
along with many others who had never heard of such a
picture, and I hope to see it again. Mr. Lambert is
arrived here, and not alone. He is on his way to Italy.
Mr. Nieliolls and his two daughters have also spent a
week here on their way to the South of France. They
had lived in my hotel four days before I found them out.
The Concannons are here, and give grand parties every
week, to which I have been invited, but I have not been.
They have Morgan the stock-jobber’s daughters with
them ! Made Cabarus also opens her house to-night
in great splendour, but I rather preferred Yestris and
the Opera. Here also has arrived, on his way from
Rome, Mr. Champernowne, son of Mrs. Harrington of
Clent, and as he proposes to set off in ten days I have
partly agreed to accompany him. Mr. Boddington left
me last Wednesday in company with Mr. and Mrs.
Mackintosh, with whom I was to have returned. I have
heard from them twice on the road, as at every stage
they all remembered something undone. I have now
the whole apartment to myself, and his servant Gerard
has fallen to me by inheritance.
‘ The galleries are still inexhaustible, but thePARIS IN 1802
435
painters are a great loss, for no human being enters
into one’s feelings now. Parsons has been there twice
since he left England, and Fox only three times ! I am
generally a kind of cicerone to the new comers, being
almost always there. At first sight it seems delightful
to introduce others for the first time to such things, but
you would be soon sick of it. The Miss Morgans mis-
took the Transfiguration for some new picture, and their
remarks eclipsed those in “ Evelina ” on the pictures at
Vauxhall. I have spent an evening with Can ova, who
is come to take a likeness of Bonaparte for a colossal
statue to be placed in the grand square of Milan. I was
much pleased with him; David and Kosciusko were also
there, as was also Le Grand, the architect who built the
Cornhall—since burnt! He fondled a little pug whelp-
in his breast the whole time, and seemed a great cox-
comb. In my walk one evening I was attacked by a
sharper who led me about to see a billiard match
between Clotilde the opera dancer in men’s clothes and
an Englishman. He wearied my poor legs while he was
extolling the symmetry of her form—but at last we
met a man on the staircase who said it was put off till
the morning. His intention was, it seems, to draw me to
the gaming table—for he has since attacked Parsons
and Fitzpatrick : the last the coolest gamester in Europe,
and the first not likely to risk his money. Surely he
must be very green to attack such men ! I have twice
seen the English taken off on the stage, and I was sorry
to hear the actor talk very much like ourselves. Bod-
dington, who could not deny it, said the actor was a
bad mimic and could not talk ill—but the immoderate
F F 2436
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
laughter of the audience convinced him of the contrary.
I have seen “ Puss in Boots,” and am told “ Cinderella ”
had a great run last year.
‘ Adieu, my dear Maria ! Pray give my love to all and
a kiss sent across the ocean to four. Give my kind love
to Patty and hers.
‘ To prevent a mistake I shall direct to you in town.
‘ Ever, ever yours,
‘ S. K.
‘ Mr. De Grave desires to be remembered to you all.
Lusignan lives in very elegant apartments near the
Palais Boyal, and is a very gay man; I have not yet
seen him. The English here are still innumerable,
Paris being now thin of fashion ; at the theatres every
word you overhear is English.’
Samuel Rogers to Henry Rogers.
‘ Paris: Deer. 4, 1802.
‘ My dear Henry,	... I	have	now	fixed my day
of departure. On	Friday	next,	the	nth Dec1’. I
shall turn my back on the gaieties of Paris—with some
regret, but with more pleasure. In the galleries, I shall
often wander in imagination, but the days are now so
dark and sad, with such little intermission, that I have
lately found but little enjoyment there. I have paid a
morning visit to Made du Port. I was introduced by
De Grave, and received with great civility as her hus-
band’s friend, under	which name I	was	introduced by
her to her daughter,	a very	pretty	girl	of 16. I wasPAEIS IN i S02
437
afterwards told that to see the daughter is considered a
very great compliment, and indeed so she thought by the
very marked manner in which she promised me that
pleasure, when she stepped out for her. After a few
minutes she told her * she might retire.’ Made du
Port is certainly the most elegant and pleasing woman I
#
have seen in France, but then I have literally seen
nobody. She is about 35, and still very handsome. I
understand that where she lives (near the Bastille, about
a league from me) there are above 150 families in obscurity
of the most accomplished and best bred people in France
—strict in their manners and life, even beyond our
English notions of regularity. I have since paid a dif-
ferent visit to M. de Lille—no longer Abbe—now a
married man. He received me in a large room in an
hotel, once belonging to the Duke of Richelieu. There
were two or three gentlemen with him. In a recess were
two beds side bv side. The curtains of the nearest were
drawn, and a young lady was frequently called to it by
whispers, for there in high health, at 2 o’clock, lay
Made de Lille ! I have since dined with them, and was
overwhelmed with her civilities. The dinner was very
ill-served, and lasted near two hours. Among other
dishes was a roast hare, which, as she told her French
friends, was given in compliment to me, it being a very
great rarity in England, and never but at great tables.
After dinner she threw about her some ugly and dirty
English doyleys, which she also explained as the English
fashion, and of which I felt quite ashamed. She concluded
by making me swallow a dish of strong green tea, to re-
mind me of old England. I feel no desire to repeat my438
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
visit, tlio’ I could now enjoy his conversation, which I had
never done before. I have seen little of the Wm. Smiths
for the last fortnight. Their feelings are indeed so little
in unison with my own that I keep out of their way.
The same may he said of the Edgeworths, tho’ they are
abundant in their civilities. I have lately looked into
several of the beds bourgeois, and with great pleasure.
The decorum and enjoyment I have seen there have
often sent me home to bed with very pleasant feelings.
Tom Boddington is returned to Paris, and enjoys himself
as much as so fastidious a gentleman will allow himself.
Last Monday I was led by fatal curiosity to hear High
Mass in honour of Ste. Cecilia, in the church of St.
Eustache. I departed before it was half over, but have
been confined, with intermissions, ever since. Mr.
Champernowne has gone directly by Havre and South-
ampton to Devonshire, and I shall now return home with
Mr.----- a very friendly pleasant man, whom I have
known slightly for some years. Happy is the man who
leaves Paris first ! Mr. Boddington and Mr. Mackintosh
sent me commissions twice on the road, and Mr. Cham-
pernowne has left me twenty legacies, to my utter horror
and dismay. Mr. Fox has also written from St. Anne’s,
to desire me, among other things, to bring Mrs. F. a
grate, shovel, and tongs ! I have just heard an unex-
pected piece of news—Mr. Thomas Hope’s death. It
comes in a letter from his brother Henry, who says a
merchant has written him word of it from Marseilles.
Adieu, my dear Henry ! Give my best love to all, and
believe me
‘ Ever yours,
S. B.TO THE TOESO
439
‘ By way of P.S., I shall acid a few lines to another
person. N.B.—It is here for the first time committed to
paper, and I don’t half like it, now it is written, so for-
give faults.
‘ To the Fragment of a Statue of Hercules called the
Torso of the Belvidere.
‘ And dost thou still, thou mass of breathing stone,
(Thy giant limbs to night and chaos hurl’d),
Still sit as on the fragment of a world,
Surviving all, majestic and alone?
What though the Spirits of the North, that swept
Borne from the earth, when in her pomp she slept,
Smote thee with fury, and thy headless trunk
Deep in the dust, ’mid tower and temple, sunk;
Soon to subdue mankind ’twas thine to rise,
Still, still unquencli’d thy nobler energies !
Exalted minds, with thee conversing, caught
Bright revelations of the Good they sought;
By thee that long-lost spell in secret given,
To draw down Gods, and lift the soul to Heaven.’
These lines are dated 1808 in their published form.
The only change made in them in the interval was the
substitution of ‘ unquelled thy glorious energies ’ for ‘ un-
quench’d thy nobler energies,’ and ‘ aspiring minds ’ for
£ exalted minds.’ The request from Fox to which he
alludes, was conveyed in the following letter—
C. J. Fox to S. Rogers.
‘ My dear Sir,—Mrs. Fox says you would willingly
do any commission for her, and she has no scruple in
troubling you, 1st, to go to Fonciez’s, the jeweller, rue440
EAELY LIFE OF SAMUEL EOGEES
St. Honore, ancl to buy for her two little Cornelian hearts,
with little rings and chains to fasten them to chains
round the neck. Mine. Fonciez will recollect that my
wife looked at them and asked the price, it must not be
more than three louis each. 2dly, to go to the Palais
Royal, the first or second shop on the right (I think) as
you go in, to buy a pair of fire-dogs, tongs, and shovel,
the price altogether two louis. I meant to buy them,
but said I would call again, and forgot it. If you can
bring these things yourself we shall be much obliged to
you, if not, pray send the dogs, to me at Quiliac at
Calais. The smaller things you will of course bring
yourself, or send by some friend.
‘ If you will be so good as to pay for them I will settle
with you on your return or send an order to Perregaux,
and for the interest of your money I know no way to pay
you, but by insisting again on your reading “ Isacco,”
which, when you have done attentively, I trust you will
not think of comparing “ Douglas ” with it.
‘ I am, with great regard, dear Sir,
‘ Yours ever,
‘ C. J. Fox.’
‘ St. Anne’s Hill,
6 18 Nov., 1802.’
There is a further account of Republican Paris in a
letter to Mrs. Greg, wife of Mr. Samuel Greg of Man-
chester, mother of the late Mr. Samuel Greg of Boiling-
ton, and of Mr. William Rathbone Greg, author of ‘ The
Creed of Christendom,’ and grandmother of Mr. William
Rathbone, now M.P. for the northern division of Car-
narvonshire.PAEIS IN 1802
441
S. Rogers to Mrs. Greg.
‘Paris : 5 Dec., 1802.
‘ My dear Mrs. Greg,—You may be surprized to
receive a letter from Paris, and yet from perhaps it
will excite no wonder. Alas—I have no ties to fix me
anywhere ! Many ages ago, I forget in what Olympiad,
I received from Manchester what demands my best
thanks. Of the letter I will say nothing, for it deserves
everything. The present was most acceptable also—for
Gesner was a favourite with me in early life—nor has he
even yet lost his charm. The translation does honour
to the writer, and the preface is worthy of the great
name you hint at. The embellishments are very elegant,
and you will think me sincere when I say so, for I have
long had some of the original drawings in my possession.
On the 13th of Sep1' I set my foot in France. At
least so says my almanack, but my memory assures me
it was two thousand years ago, so busy have I been,
though to little purpose since I came here. Not but
that I was disappointed at the little novelty I met with
on the road. The pedlar on his ass and the waggoner
with his team wore the same huge cocked hat, and the
postillion had his earrings, his jack-boots, his tobacco-
pipe, his long queue, his harness of ropes and a whip
that smacked through every note of the gamut. At
Chantilly I wandered alone till dusk along half-dis-
mantled terraces and among urns and lions fast covering
with verdure. The old chateau is no more, and the
stables were occupied by a regiment of horse. The ca-
thedral at Amiens had lost little of its splendour, and442
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
many people were saying their masses in various parts
of it, hut the abbey of St. Denis was filled when I saw
it with casks of American corn. The royal monuments
are removed to Paris. They are ranged chronologically
with a thousand others from different parts of France, in
the convent of the little Augustines; and there in the
garden among cypresses is the tomb of Abelard and
Eloisa. It was noon when I arrived in Paris; and,
wandering about in search of lodgings, I found myself
at the door of the Louvre. Who could resist ? I entered
with other people, and in an instant stood mute in the
presence of the Marbles of the Capitol, the Laocoon, the
Torso, and the Apollo Belvidere. I need not describe to
you what I felt at the sight of what I had heard and
dreamt of so long. I walked about—neither asleep nor
awake—and at last ascended a staircase, where a gallery
without end opened itself before me. It was, indeed,
“ the pomp and prodigality of Heaven." First came the
pictures of France, then those of Flanders and Holland,
then those of Italy. Altar-pieces, which singly gave
celebrity to cathedrals and little cities, now hang side by
side, and in the multitude are passed almost without a
glance. I spend hours every day there. Things of such
excellence must be approached by degrees—and I can
truly say that the more I look the more I admire. Our
artists, who certainly came with no favourable preposses-
sions, were very agreeably surprised at the excellent con-
dition of the pictures ; and particularly of the Transfigu-
ration and the St. Pietro Martire of Titian. This
morning I saw Raphael’s St. Cecilia laid on its face, and
about to receive a new canvas. The worm-eaten boardPARIS IN 1802
443
on which it was painted has been cut away with the
knife (what excellent nerves there are in France!) and
what I looked upon was actually the back of the thin coat
of paint. It is a delightful reflection that the colours of
such a pencil can survive the solid mass on which they
were laid, and may be transferred from surface to sur-
face while the world endures ! The gallery is open to
the public twice a week—to strangers every day—and
so also is the library, where hundreds are sitting and
reading constantly, at the tables in the long suite of
rooms, with the greatest silence and decorum. When you
enter you are struck with surprise at the number, for
from the stillness you expect nobody. The bronze
horses from Venice are placed over the gates of the
Tuileries. Bonaparte has twice exhibited himself to
the people since I came here. Once at his monthly
review in the Place du Carrousel, when, on his white
charger superbly caparisoned and surrounded by mame-
louks and general officers, he rode up and down the ranks
of six thousand, horse and foot. At every turn he
received petitions, which were delivered into his hand by
many well-dressed people, some of whom he questioned
as he ran his eyes over the papers. And once again, on
the evening of a festival, when the garden front of the
Tuileries was illuminated, and when, between the two
other consuls, he sat uncovered in a balcony in the
centre for above half an hour, taking snuff continually,
while an orchestra of a hundred and fifty performers
played and sang in the open air immediately under him.
At his levees he is more inclined to talk than to listen,
which is the case you will say with some other great444
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
people; but his manners are very simple and pleasing.
His profile is very striking and elegant, but his eyes are
of a light grey, and his eyebrows scarcely distinguish-
able ; and his face is overspread with one dead yellow tint.
His head, to use the expression of a celebrated painter
here, is une tete de mort;—but it is the head of a giant.
He measures in height but five-feet-five; but his hat,
when he has left it on the table, as I have been assured
by those about him, has moved round the head of the
tallest and most robust general in his army. He lives
entirely at St. Cloud, which overhangs the Seine, and is
fitted up most sumptuously with gold and porphyry and
bronze. He travels very fast, attended by guards, in a
plain old-fashioned yellow coach and six blood horses,
his servants wearing cocked hats, but Me B.’s carriage
is a light chaise and four a la mode Angloise. It is
singular to see a postilion on a blood horse under an
immense cocked hat. I wish I could give you a tableau
de Paris. But where shall we begin ? with the narrow
streets, where the approach of a voiture, or of a cabriolet
with its tinkling bell, and its cry of “ Garde ! Garde ! ”
produces a flight and a rout; or with the squares and
bridges, where an array of shoe-blacks, formidable in
number and outcry, salute you with “ lei on tond des
chiens et coupe les oreilles aux chiens et chats,” or shall
we walk in the Tuileries Gardens, where there are more
statues than trees; or shall we look into the bals bourgeois,
where a hundred couples waltz nightly ; or are you inclined
for a spectacle ? Will 3rou see “ Puss in Boots ” wash
her whiskers with her paws, as she does every evening on
the Boulevards, to the delight of all the grown children;PARIS IN 1802
445
or shall I introduce you to Mdlle. Duchesnois, who was
crowned last night in Phedre amidst tears and acclama-
tions ? No, rather come with me and admire “ those gay
creatures of the element,” the corps de ballet, wdio will
enchant you with their delicate movements, and with
their beautiful groups in groves and caverns and among
the “ plighted clouds.” Vestris is still himself, though
his mistress, a celebrated dancer, died last week—and
was refused burial by the cur; who, however, was sus-
pended for it by the Archbishop of Paris. Perhaps, most of
all, I have wfished for }rou in the Abbe Sicard’s “ Academy
of Deaf and Dumb.” What ingenuous and speaking
countenances, and what triumph in their eyes, when
they catch and write on the wall the ideas communicated
to them ! The furniture here is very elegant, and your
old friend Made Ptecamier outshines the Consul himself.
Her bath and bedchamber are hung with silks of many
colours, and lighted with aromatic lamps and alabaster
vases. Her bed is an Etruscan couch, and every table is
supported by caryatides in bronze and gold. But you
must now wish to return to England. What a sad
variety of smells there is in Paris ! Surely snuff-taking
is an act of self-defence here, and what effluvia from the
kitchens, morning, noon, and night. Who would refuse
his assent here to the definition that ‘ man is a cooking
animal ? ’ The painters and lawyers are returned to
London, and are succeeded by a flight of fashionables
from Spa. The Wm. Smiths are here, and also the
Edgeworths, but I fear I am growing unfit for society,
for I can find none whose feelings are in unison with
my own, and a solitary walk along the Boulevards, and446
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
a tete-a-tete with the Apollo or the Transfiguration, are
my greatest consolations. Pray remember me particu-
larly to Mr. G., who will elucidate any obscurities in this
long letter ; and to each and to all of your little society,
not forgetting my dearest friend Betsy. Tell her I have
played the same part in Paris which she played in
London last spring, hut with much less eclat. In less
than a fortnight I shall return to London with much
regret, hut with more pleasure. The French are a lively
and clever people. Of their morals I shall say nothing,
though there are many noble exceptions. In the com-
forts of life they are many centuries behind us, but in
its elegancies they have no rivals; and in their liberality
to strangers they are models for the rest of the world.
I have taken much pleasure in the environs of Paris;
the little hills covered with vineyards wear still the last
red tint of autumn, and the sight of a great city with no
smoke over it is to an Englishman a phenomenon. It
is singular, too, that I recollect no wind through the
equinox here—a turbulent visitor I could well dispense
with in our island. In the Palais Royal the gaming
yields immense sums to the revenue. There are many
tables open from 12 at noon till 8 in the morning,
surrounded by young and old of both sexes. I hate the
sight of their illuminated windows as I return home in
an evening. In many of the coffee-houses there are
orchestras of music which continue playing and singing
with terrible fury from dusk till midnight. In the “ Cafe
des Aveugles ” there is a band of blind men and women,
a melancholy spectacle, and in some of the caveaux, or
cellars, little dramas are acted to allure company. InROGERS, FOX, AND MACKINTOSH
447
the theatres all now sit in the parterre, a change effected
by the Revolution ; nor could Yorick now address them
with “ In England we sit more at our ease.” Every
woman here carries her pocket-handkerchief on her arm
in a kind of work-bag; and I have seen dirty nursery
girls with a tottering infant in one hand and their
ridicule in the other. The houses have no verandahs, and
the window curtains are of two different colours, crossing
each other, which have a very rich and lively effect. But
I have now exhausted my paper and your patience.
Adieu, once more! You see I have not forgotten you,
though a sea lies between us, and many a province and
many a field of battle.
* Your ever affectionate friend,
£ Samuel Rogers.
‘ Mr. Fox has left us, to my great regret. He was
delighted beyond measure.’’
Rogers was much with Fox during this visit to Paris,
when some of the conversations recorded in the ‘ Recol-
lections ’1 took place. Walking in the Louvre they one
day met Mackintosh, whom Fox passed with a nod and
the briefest of salutations, telling Rogers he was angry
with Mackintosh for accepting the place in India offered
him by a Tory Government. But General Richard
Fitzpatrick, whom Rogers met at Fox’s dinner-table, as
well as at the Luxembourg and the Gobelins, told Rogers
that their wives were at the bottom of the coolness.
Fox had lately publicly acknowledged Mrs. Armstead,
1 Recollections, pp. 20-28, 35.448
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
to whom he had been married privately in 1795, as his
wife, and Mrs. Mackintosh had not paid her a formal
call. A fortnight before Rogers arrived in Paris Fox
had dined with Bonaparte, when the First Consul had
told him that some persons thought Windham had
assisted in the plot to blow him up by an infernal
machine. Fox told Rogers that he had energetically
protested that the suspicion was a libel on Windham,
and that no Englishman would mix himself up in such
a business. Rogers afterwards told Windham what Fox
had said in his vindication, and Windham replied that
he would have done the same for Fox.
The next conversation with Fox recorded in the
‘Recollections’ is dated January, 1803, and took place
during a visit of Rogers to Fox at St. Anne’s, ‘ a small
low white house on the brow of a hill commanding a
semicircular sweep, rich and woody.’ Rogers was then
busily occupied in preparing his new home, and he puts
on record Fox’s remarks that a distance is essential to a
house, and that the Green Park is the best situation in
London. The bow windows of Rogers’s new house looked
over the Green Park. He was fitting it up with great
care. He had made notes of household arrangements
he had seen in houses in which he had visited ; had given
much study to questions of decoration and ornament;
and had designed the furniture himself, with the assist-
ance of Hope’s work on the subject. The mantelpiece
in the drawing-room was executed by Flaxman, who
superintended the general decoration of the walls and
the ceiling. Stotliard designed a cabinet for antiquities,
ornamenting it with paintings by his own hand. By anA 4 CALM EECESS SO RICHLY FRAUGHT ’
449
accident it happened that some of the wood-carving in
the dining-room was executed by Chantrey. Rogers
only knew this five-and-twenty years afterwards, when
Chantrey had become famous. Much of the work was
done under Rogers’s personal supervision, and with
drawing in hand he one day received a journeyman sent
by a wood-carver to execute some ornamentation on a
sideboard in the dining-room. At dinner, long after-
wards, in the same room, Chantrey, pointing to the
sideboard, asked Rogers whether he remembered the
circumstance, and Rogers, who never forgot anything,
recollected it clearly. ‘ Well,’ said Chantrey, ‘ I was that
journeyman.’ The furniture and decoration followed
the Greek models, and one of the striking features of
the house was its large and beautiful collection of Greek
vases. * Round the staircase,’ says his nephew, ‘ was
added a frieze, taken from the Panathenaie procession
among the Elgin marbles.’ Rogers’s long studies in
the Louvre in the previous autumn had done much to
complete the formation of that perfect taste which found
expression in the furniture and decoration of his house.
A contemporary account of Rogers, of his house, and
of the company he gathered in it, is given by Dr. Burney
in his diary under the date of the ist of May, 1804.
Dr. Burney says of Rogers that ‘ he is a good poet, has
a refined taste in all the arts, has a select library of the
best editions of the best authors in all languages, has
very fine pictures, very fine drawings, and the finest
collection I ever saw of Etruscan vases; and moreover,
he gives the best dinners to the best company of men of
talents and genius I know; the best served, and with the
a G450
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
best wines, liqueurs, &c. . . . His books of prints of the
greatest engravers from the greatest masters in history,
architecture, and antiquities, are of the first class. His
house in St. James’s Place, looking into the Green Park,
is deliciously situated and furnished with great taste.’
This account of Rogers’s house and parties in 1804
may be compared with a description written by Charles
Sumner, the American Senator, in a letter to G. S.
Hilliard, thirty-five years later, in January 1839:
* You have often heard of Eogers’s house. It is not
large, but the few rooms—two drawing-rooms and a
dining-room only—are filled with the most costly paint-
ings, all from some of the great galleries of Italy or
elsewhere, most of which cost five or ten thousand
dollars apiece. I should think there wTere about thirty
in all; perhaps you will not see in the world another
such collection in so small a space. There was a little
painting by Raphael, about a foot square, of the Saviour
praying in the Garden, brimful of thought and expres-
sion, which the old man said he should like to have
in his chamber when dying. There were masterpieces
by Titian, Correggio, Caracci, Guido, Paul Veronese,
Rubens, Barocchio, Giotto, and Reynolds. He pointed
out the picture of an armed knight, which Walter Scott
always admired. His portfolios were full of the most
valuable original drawings. There were all Flaxman’s
illustrations of Homer and the Tragedians, as they left
the pencil of the great artist. Indeed, he said that he
could occupy me for a month, and invited me to come
and breakfast with him any morning that I chose
sending him word the night before.’‘ ONE CHOSEN SEAT THAT CHARMS ’
451
Rogers liacl now cut himself entirely free from busi-
ness. His youngest brother Henry had become the
active partner and working head of the banking firm,
and there was no occasion for the chief partner to
trouble himself with its concerns. His income, though
not large, was sufficient for one who had only a bachelor’s
establishment to maintain, and who led ‘ the life of
satisfied desires.’ He had no expensive habits beyond
those which sprang from a determination to make his
house the ideal abode of the man of taste and the man
of letters. He had not even the ambition to become the
patron of poor authors, though circumstances were con-
tinually forcing that duty on him. His wish was to
surround himself with what was best, and he chose his
friends as he chose his pictures and his furniture—for
their quality in this noblest sense. It soon became
known that the charming house in St. James’s Place,
about which society was talking, was open to all who
had a claim to be regarded as men of letters, or artists,
or wits, or statesmen : though of the latter, it was chiefly
the Whigs who found themselves at home.
G G 2

















		
		
		
		
		
		
























	
	
	
	
	
	
	



























INDEX.

ACL
ACLAND, Mr., 402
Adams, John, 117, 278
Ad£le, Princess, 244, 245
Adventurer, the, 306, 307
Aikin, Dr., 78, 246, 261,262, 265,
319, 331, 352, 375, 380
— Miss, 80
Aix, Bishop of, 266
Allen, John, 422
Amiens, Peace of, 323, 425
Amory, Bev. Dr., 21
Amphlett, Mr., 45
Anderson, Dr., 96, 410
— Mr., 403
Andrews, Miles P., 300
Anti-Jacobin, 378, 379
Anti-Jacobin Review, 395
1 Antiquarian Society/ 246
Armstead, Mrs., 264, 347, 376,
447
Armstrong, 304, 305
Ash, Dr., 22
Ashburton, Lord, 35
]BACHELOR, The, 424
Baillie, Joanna, 79,80, 166
—	Dr. M., 80, 168
Bancroft, Dr., 265
Bank partnership, 73, 74
Banks, Sir J., 244
Barbauld, Mrs., 78, 79, 157, 210,
211, 305, 323, 397
-----poetic appeal, 203, 204
Baring, Mr., 396, 422
—	Sir F., 319, 375
BOW
Barker, Mrs., 13, 14
Barnave, 129, 135, 137
Barr6, Colonel, 31, 301
Barrington, Daines, 246
Barry, Madame du, 303
Barwell, 309
Barwis, Jackson, 264
Bates, Dr., 246, 262, 264
Bathurst, Dr. B., 306
Bearcroft, 49, 311
Beattie, Dr., 170
Beattie’s ‘ Edwin/ 58, 59
Bedford, Duchess of, 34
—	Duke of, 303
Bennet, Major, 84
Bentley, Dr., 242
Berthon, Mrs. 23
Bessborough, Lord, 385
Bewick, 248
Birches, the Miss, 18
Birmingham riots, 200, 202
Black, Dr., 167
Blair, Dr., 89, 91, 94, 103, 167
—	Mr. and Mrs., 45
Blake, 263
Blanc (actor), 64
Blanchisserie, 245
Boddington, S., 120, 121, 137,
164, 325, 333, 345, 408, 431,
432, 434, 435, 438
Bonaparte, 426, 430, 433, 444,
448
Bosanquet, 23
Boswell, 169, 268, 269, 309, 311
Bouche de Fer, Society, 147
Bowles, Martha, 81454
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
BOW
Bowles, Mr. and Mrs., 17
Boyd, 138
Brignola, Marquis, 327, 349
Bristol election of 1781, 43, 44
Bristow, Mrs., 348
Broadhead, Mr. and Mrs., 263
Brogden, 319, 375
Brougham, 422
Browne, Captain, 244
Bruce, 96
Brydges, Sir Egerton, 80, 213
Bunker’s Hill, Battle of, 33
Burgh, 8, 11, 17, 18
Burke, E., 113, 114, 133, 173,
304, 307, 381
Burney, Dr., 449
Burns, Robert, 109, 110,169, 220
Burroughs, 21
Butler, 268
Byron, Lord, 218, 236
nABARUS, Madame, 431, 434
VJ Cadell, 35, 67, 168,169, 212,
415
Cadogan, Dr., 167
Campbell, General, 139
—	Thomas, 236, 240
Canissy, Madame de, 136
Cardigan, Lady, 404
Carr, 263
—	Lady C., 391
Carrington, Lord, 346, 347
Casamajor, 419
Catloe, Rev. Mr., 108
Chabot, 137, 139
Champernowne, 426, 434, 438
Chantrey, 449
—	Mrs., 391
Chapelier, 139
Chatelet, Due de, 132, 133, 136,
147
—	M., 139
Chatelleux, de, 266
Chatham, Lord, 309, 317
Chesterfield, Lord, 308
Christie, 263
Clark, Lady, 350
Cleaver, Miss, 347
Clermont-Tonnere, 130, 137
Clifford, Lord, 106
d’al
Clifton in 1791, 201
Clifton, Sir Gervase, 84
Cline, 325
4 Club Monarchique,’ 138, 145
‘ Club, My,’ 313
‘ Club of ’89,’ 136, 138, 147
Cockburn, 11, 18
Coleridge, S. T., 68, 116, 219
Collier, Joseph, 49
Collins, W., 304, 305
Colman, 307
—	George, 63, 64
Colton, Rev. C., 381
4 Columbus,’ 339
Combe, W., 407, 407 n, 414
4 Commonplace Book,’ 372, 424
Concannon, 342, 347, 434
Condorcet, Madame de, 135, 140,
171, 172
—	M. de, 135, 136, 137,138
4 Conquerors of Bastille,’ 145
4 Convalescent de Quality,’ 141
Cooper, 261, 262, 265, 285, 287
Copenhagen Fields meeting, 317,
318
Coquerel, Athanase, 77
-----Atli., jun., 77
Corporation of London, 34
Costello, 272
Cottle, 68, 84
Courtenay, 319, 375
Coventry election, 40, 41, 42, 43,
44
Cowley, Mrs., 211, 300
Cowper, 59, 217, 218, 240, 352
Coxe, Dr., 1
—	W. (author), 1
Coyte, Dr., 87
Crabbe, Rev. G., 235
Crawford, Dr., 261
Crisp, Miss, 14
Critical Review, 68, 212, 219
Cruger, 43, 44
Cumberland, Duke of, 35, 27U
309
—	Richard, 242, 243, 281, 282,
345, 405
DACRE, Lord, 246
D’Alembert, 130INDEX
455
DAS
‘ Dashwold,’ 272
Daubeny, 43, 44
Day, G., 169
De Grave, 436
—	Lille, 437
—	Linne, 84
Della Cruscans, the, 175, 176,
218
De Moivre, 32
Derby, Lord, 319
Desiles, 135
Dey verdun, 349
4 Diary of a Lover of Literature,’
357
Dilly, 242, 243, 268
Dorset, Lord, 106
Douglas, Dr., 106, 246
Dry den, 48, 59
Ducarell, 402
Duffer in, Lady, 370
Dumont, 279
Dundas, 288, 289
Dunning, 31
Dupont, 133
Du Port, Madame, 436, 437
Dyce, Rev. A., 24, 37, 55, 63, 66,
74, 110, 162, 164,207,266, 288,
302, 381
Dyer, G., 304
—	John, 186 n
"EARTHQUAKE in 1749, 3
_Lj Edgeworth, 50, 438, 445
Edinburgh Preview, 207, 340, 363,
369
Edison, 246, 328
4 Edward,’ by Dr. Moore, 323
Edwards, Bryan, 408, 422
Eldon, Lord, 240
Ellis, George, 420
4 Emily Montagu,’ 348
Enfield, Dr., 70, 331
England, South of, in 1792, 249-
260
4 Epilogue,’ 293, 294, 295
4 Epistle to a Friend,’ 281, 291,
351, 352, 353, 354, 355
-----criticism on, 368, 369
Erskine, Lord, 116, 264, 274, 288,
336, 374, 376, 378, 426, 431
GIL
Este, 176, 211
4 Eumelean Club,’ 268
European Magazine, 312, 313,
314
Ewer, 87
Exmouth in 1800, 403
Falmouth, Lord, 309
Farmer, Rev. Mr., 17
Farrington, 426, 433
Favell, 334
Fenelon, 154, 284
Ferriar, Dr., 396
Field, Rev. W., 20 n
— E. W., 20 n
Fitzgerald, Lady E., 265
Fitzpatrick, General, 433, 435,
437
Flaxman, 247, 248, 373, 425, 448
Foote, 271, 272, 300
Forbes, General, 420
Fox, Caroline, 279
— C. J., 116, 121, 244, 245, 276,
291, 319, 320, 321, 322, 347,
374, 375, 376, 377, 378, 380,
382, 431, 433, 435, 439, 447
Francis, Sir P., 116, 319, 375
Franklin, Dr., 32, 134, 144, 264,
265, 266, 267, 268, 308
Fredley Farm, 371, 413
French Revolution, 115, 116
-----English feeling about, 116
4 Friends of the People,’ 246, 274,
287
‘From Euripides,’ 413
Fuseli, 304, 426
Gardiner, sir r., 324
Garrick, D., 174, 264, 271,
282, 300, 308
Garshore, Dr., 262
Geiitleman's Magazine, 52, 53,
54, 393
Gibbon, 35, 94, 349
Gifford, 174, 175, 176, 218, 285,
383
Gillies, Dr. John, 262, 265, 297,
314
Gilpin, Rev. W.. 92, 102, 233,456
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
GLY
256, 258, 260, 352, 355, 356,
357, 358, 359, 360, 361, 362,
364, 365, 410, 411, 412, 421,
427
Glyn, Sir R., 18
Goldsmith, 58, 59
Gordon, Lord George, 137
—	riots, 38
Gower, Lord, 131
Grandison, Sir C., 172
Grant, Dr., 14
—	Miss, 348
Grattan, H., 371, 372
Gray, Thomas, 26, 57, 59, 92
240, 307, 394
Greg, Mrs., 440, 441
—	Samuel, 440
—	W. Rathbone, 440
Grenet, Abbe, 129, 130, 244
Grey, Charles, 116, 274
Grieve, Dr., 15
Griffiths, Dr., 242, 265, 307
Guizot (quoted), 296
Hackney College, 75, 83,379
Hagley, 5
Haldimand, Miss, 347
Halifax, Sir T., 40, 42
Hallam, H., 422
Hamilton, Duke of, 308
— Lady, 265
4 Single speech,’ 94
Hampden, Lord, 307
Hampstead assemblies, 78, 79,
211
Hanson, Mrs., 23
Harris, Mary, 1
— Samuel, 1
Hawkesworth, Dr., 306, 307
Hayley, W., 217, 243, 244, 260
Hayward, A., 28, 55, 207, 212,
235, 237, 238, 288, 340, 341,
369, 370, 371, 374
Henry, Rev. Philip, 2, 3
— Rev. Matthew, 2, 3
Herbert, Nicholas, 95
* Heroic Epistle,’ 304
Heywood, Mrs., 108
—- Serjeant, 319, 375
* Hill, The,’ Old Swinford, 4
KNI
Hinkley, 264
Holloway, 247
Holroyd, J. B., 40, 42
Hoole, 242, 243
Hope, 346, 438
Hoppner, J., 310, 325, 422, 426
Horner, Francis, 279, 378, 422
Horsley, Bishop, 305
—	Mrs., 348
Hottingue, M., 132
Howard, John, 265
—	428, 429
Hoyle, Rev. Mr., 4
Hulton, 9
Hume, D., 95, 303
Hunt, Leigh, 369
Hutton, Dr., 96
TNCLEDON (the actor), 64
X Indefatigable, the, 324
Independence, Declaration of, 33
TACKSON, W., 390, 395, 399,
fj 400, 401, 405, 406
4 Jacobin Club,’ 138, 139,147
Jeffrey, F., 422
Jekyll, 305
Jerningham, 168, 169, 170, 171,
172, 173, 176
Jersey, Lady, 336, 337, 373, 404
Johnson (actor), 64
—	Dr., 19, 52, 53, 166, 168, 174,
268, 269, 304, 307, 311, 312,
329
Johnstone, Dr. E., 311
4 Julia de Roubigne,’ 112
4 Junius,’ 94
KEAY, 121, 132, 133, 135, 137>
144, 146, 147, 148, 149
Keralio, Mdlle. de, 131
— M. de, 131
King, Lord, 422
4 King of Clubs,’ the, 396, 422,
423
Kippis, Rev. Dr., 75, 76, 88, 89,
91, 169, 171, 211, 274
Knight, Richard, 5, 47
— R. Payne, 5, 422
— Thomas Andrew, 5INDEX
457
LAB
LABOUCHERE, Mrs., 391
Lafayette, 121, 132, 133
134, 143, 147, 160, 433
— Madame de, 132, 134
* La Liberty conquise,’ 135
* L’amant femme de chambre,’
140
Lamb, Charles, 7, 11
Lambton, W. H., 274, 319, 375
Lansdowne, Lord, 318
La Bive (actor), 138
Lauderdale, Lord, 269, 319, 320,
375, 378
Lawley, 84
Lawrence, Sir Thomas, 74, 75
‘ Leasowes,’ the, 5
Le Breton, Mrs., 78
‘ Le Jaloux sans Amour,’ 134
Lenox, Colonel, 88
Lexington, Battle of, 33
Liancourt, Due de, 131, 139,
140
Lindsey, Rev. Theophilus, 36
Lisle, 17
Loughborough, Lord, 170
Louis XVI., 142
Loyd, Jones, 38
Lubbock, Sir John, 425
Lucan, Lady, 345, 348
Lysons, S., 241, 246, 293
Lyttelton, Mr., 15
— George, 5, 6
— Lord, 21, 22, 31, 267, 293, 300
Macaulay, Lord, 175,217
Mackenzie, Henry, 90, 91,
93, 95, 109, 111, 112, 165, 166,
167, 168, 169, 170, 171
— Miss, 113
Mackintosh, Sir J., 116, 117, 237,
274, 277, 279, 301, 302, 304,
316, 375, 381, 382, 423, 434,
438, 447
Mail coaches, 46
Mailly, Abbe, 147
Maitland, 21
Maltby, William, 30, 49, 213,
278, 325, 415,422
‘ Man of Feeling,’ the, 90, 111
MUR
1 Man of the World,’ the, 111
Manners, General, 348
Mansfield, Lord, 228, 229, 271
Marie Antoinette, 142
Marmontel, 130, 153, 244
Marsden, 246, 262
Marsh, 246
Martin, James, 264
Mason, 304, 313, 415
Mathias, T. J., 331, 384, 385
Matthew, 341, 345
Maury, Abbe, 130, 131
McGowan, 95
McMurdo, 264
Melamgms, The, 323
Merry, Robert, 103, 168, 169,
171, 172, 174, 175, 176, 213,
244, 282, 283, 284, 285
Mill, John, 279
Millar, 307
Millingen, 426
Mirabeau, 120, 133, 135, 245
Mitchell, Mary, 14, 18, 20, 27,
297
—	Paul, 27
Mitford, Rev. John, 162
—	Sir John, 377
Monboddo, Lord, 168, 170,171
Monfort, Major, 244, 246
Montagu, Mrs., 31, 173
Monthly Revieiv, 68, 213, 307,
368
Moore, Dr., 109, 110, 157, 158,
161, 169, 172, 173, 244, 297,
322, 386, 408, 409, 410
—	Dr. Carrick, 426
—	Graham, 157, 244, 323
—	James, 410
—	Sir John, 26, 157, 409
—	Tom, 218
£ Mordaunt,’ 397, 404
Morgan, George, 331
—	Lady, 337, 363
—	William, 32, 246, 290
Morning Chronicle. 378
—	Post, 378
Morris, 137
Morton, Rev. C., 1
Muir, 95
Murphy, Arthur, 263, 268, 269,
270, 271, 272458
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
NAN
ANDO, 305
Neal, Mrs., 23
Nicholls, John, M.P., 421, 434
Norfolk, Duke of, 318, 378
Norton, Mrs., 28, 370
OAKES, Colonel, 403
Ogle, 263
Oglethorpe, General, 52
Old Swinford, 4, 5
Olding, John, 73, 74, 81
Onslow, T., 348
Opie, 247, 373, 426
O’Quigley, 381
Over stone, Lord, 38
Oxford, Lady, 431
— Lord, 378
PAINE, Thomas, 117,118, 174,
246, 264, 290
Paley, Dr., 81
Palmer, Rev. Fyslie, 287
— Roger, 300
Pamela, 244, 245
Paradise, 311
Paris in 1802, 426-448
Parker, Captain John, 33
— Theodore, 33
Parr, Dr., 207, 208, 209, 242,
243, 305, 311, 319, 375, 381;
interview with, 207 ; on 4 Plea-
sures of Memory,’ 220-233
Parsons, 103, 263, 301, 313, 342.
345, 432, 435
Peach, Mrs., 15, 22
Peerless Pool, 9, 11
Pennant, Thomas, 19
Perigord, 142, 143, 146
Perr6gaux, 131
Perry, 374
Petrie, 129, 137, 138, 336
Pickbourne, Rev. J., 17, 29
Pigou, Mrs., 419, 420
Pinkerton, 268
Piozzi, 91, 94, 103, 169, 241, 269
— Mrs., 91, 93, 103, 105, 173,
185, 338, 420
Pitt, William, 134, 244, 305, 307,
317
KEY
4 Pizarro,’ 397
4 Pleasures of Memory,’ 213-240,
312, 315, 353
Polwhele, Rev. R., 314, 315, 395
Pope, 59
Porson, 30, 422
Portland, Duke of, 317
4 Pursuits of Literature,’ the,
383, 384
Price, Dr., 4, 7, 8, 17, 18, 20, 91,
116, 286, 301, 303, 311, 316,
331; his influence, 8, 35 ; his
works, 8, 31, 32 ; stories of, 9,
10, 35; habits of, 10; his
white horse, 34 ; and Turgot,
35 ; and the Corporation of
London, 34; and Congress,
35 ; and France, 35 ; at Hack-
ney, 36 ; 4 On Love of Country,’
118 ; and Lafayette, 133 ; his
simplicity, 173
—	Mrs., 13, 18
—	Uveclale, 407 n
Priestley, Dr., 8, 31, 116, 119,
202, 205, 206, 208, 243, 245,
246, 261, 264, 265, 266, 267,
274, 286, 287, 308, 311, 312,
316
—	Joseph, jun., 285
I) ABAUD, M., 130, 204
L Radford, Daniel, 1, 2, 3, 4,
5, 6, 27
— Eleanor, 2
— Mary, 3, 6
— Samuel, 2
Raper, 13, 264, 391, 421
— Harry, 13
— Miss, 13, 14
Rathbone, W., M.P., 440
Raynal, Abb6, 130
Recamier, Madame, 431, 445
4 Recollections,’ Rogers’s, 164,
292, 319, 375, 376, 381, 448
Reed, Isaac, 242, 393
Reid, 268
Rennell, Major, 313
Reynolds (dramatist), 300
Reynolds, Sir J., 113, 114, 173,
310INDEX
459
ric
R0G
Ricardo, 422
Richelieu, Due de, 303
Rickards, 15
—	Samuel, 15
Robertson, Dr., 89, 90, 91, 93, 97,
99, 111
Robinson, John, 43, 44
Rochefoucauld, Due de la, 131,
135, 139
—	Duchesse de la, 133, 138, 160
Roebuck, Dr., 166
Rogers, Daniel, 7, 37, 38, 40, 41,
80, 389
—	Henry, 7, 27, 83, 296, 297,
373, 388, 429, 436, 437
—	Maria, 7, 50
—	Martha, 7
—	Mary, 7
—	Mary R., 7
—	Samuel, ancestors, 1, 2, 3, 4,
5, 6; birth, 7 ; first letter, 16 ;
on his mother, 25, 26 ; would
be a preacher, 36; boyish
freak, 37 ; goes to business,
38, 39 ; and Wilkes, 39; at
Margate, 48,	49;	4 To the
Gnat,’ 48; studious evenings,
50, 51 ; first compositions, 52 ;
‘ The Scribbler,’ 53, 54, 55;
calls on Johnson, 53; and
Gray’s poems, 57, 59; and
Walpole’s letters, 57;	4 Of
Myself,’ 60, 61; 4 a banker
poet,’ 61; devotion to busi-
ness, 62 ; ‘ Vintage of Bur-
gundy,’ 63: ‘Alps at Day-
break,’ 64 ; ‘ Dear is my little
Native Vale,’ 64, 65 ; 4 To the
Nightingale,’ 65; Love-song,
66; 4 Ode to Superstition,’ 67,
68, 69, 70; ‘Captivity,’ 71;
stanzas at midnight, 71, 72 ;
method of composition, 66;
partnership, 73, 74 ; on death
of his brother, 82, 83 ; journey
to north, 85, 86; at Edin-
burgh, 87-95; journey to
Paris, 115-145; at Calais,
124; at Abbeville, 125; at
Amiens, 125; at Clermont,
126; at Paris, 128; journey
to Brussels, 152, 153 ; view of
French Revolution, 160; con-
versation at Miss Williams’s,
165-174; journey in South
Wales, 177-200 ; letter to his
father, 185 ; ‘ On a Tear,’ 211;
‘ The Pleasures of Memory,’
212,213-240; spoken of as ‘ the
poet,’ 239 ; Diary in 1792, 241-
247 ; journey in South of Eng-
land, 249-261; Diary of 1792
and 1793, 261-268; Common-
place Book,269-272 ; turning-
point, 273 ; death of his father,
275 ; left as the heir, 275 ; and
R. Sharp, 277; asked for
money, 283, 284; and Dr„
Priestley, 286 ; summoned to
Privy Council, 289 ; at Stone’s
trial, 290; writing ‘Epistle,’
291 ; and Mrs. Siddons, 292,
293, 294, 295; his father’s
advice, 296; letter to R.
Sharp, 299 ; at Margate, 299,
300; Commonplace Book, 309;
letter to Dr. Parr, 312 ; verses
on him, 313 ; accused of pla-
giarism, 315 ; letter to Sarah,
326; letters to R. Sharp, 330,
334, 335, 341, 343, 366, 392,
394,	397,	402,	405,	414;
‘ Epistle to a Friend,’ 355,
356 ; ‘ in a peck of troubles,’
366; deciding on removal,
370, 371 ; mentioned in ‘Pur-
suits of Literature,’ 384; and
the classics, 385, 386 ; at Ex-
mouth, 388-412; and W_
Jackson, 398,400; on Melan-
choly, 408 n; visit to Paris
(1802),	426; letter to IT.
Rogers, 429 ; letters to Maria
Sharpe, 428, 432; letter to
Mrs. Greg, 441; and Mr. and
Mrs. Fox, 447, 448; his new
home, 449, 450
Rogers, Sarah, 7, 19, 86, 87, 297,
324, 390, 429
—	T. (grandfather), 4, 5, 24, 44
—	Thomas (father), his mar-
riage, 6; his businesses, 6 ;.460
EARLY LIFE OF SAMUEL ROGERS
ROG-
his children, 7 ; his character,
11, 28; journey to Scotland,
19; his politics, 29,	274;
Coventry election, 40,	42;
letter, 45; partnership, 73,
74; President of Hackney
College, 75 ; letters from Bath,
84, 85; letter from Stour-
bridge, 205; on Dr. Priestley,
206 ; his death, 275 ; advice to
Sam, 296, 379
Rogers, Mrs. T. (mother), 10, 11;
letters, 12, 14, 16, 19, 20, 21,
22 ; Diary, 24 ; death, 25
— Thomas, jun. (brother), 7, 14,
45, 73, 74, 81, 82, 83
Roi, Le, 266
Romilly, S., 422
Romney, 243, 265
Rougemont, M., 132
Rousseau, 148, 149, 173, 303,
344, 345
Russell, Lord John, 274, 378
Ryland, Dr., 306
SADLER, Rev. Dr., 36, 78
Salm-Kirbourg, Prince de,
142, 142 n
Salmon, 431
Scarlett, 422, 424
Schollet, Mrs., 343, 347
‘ School for Scandal/ 305, 307
Scott, Sir W., 52, 111
Seawell, 49
Seward, 168, 169, 170-174, 314
Seymour, Lord Webb, 378
Sharp, Granville, 33
— Richard, 122, 160, 253, 263,
274, 276, 277, 278, 280, 286,
297, 298, 299, 302, 303, 310,
313, 316, 328, 329, 330, 332,
333, 338, 339, 340, 343, 363,
366, 367, 373, 392, 394, 402,
405
Sharpe, Catharine, 247
— Samuel, 28, 29, 48, 56, 80, 83,
210, 273, 351, 352, 354, 372
— Sutton, 244, 246, 247, 248,
262, 265, 268, 297, 320, 354,
425
TAN
Sharpe, Mrs. Sutton, 324, 325,
373, 428, 432, 436
—	William, 164, 248, 319, 375
Shee, 248, 426
Shelburne, Lord, 20, 31, 245
Shenstone, 5, 313
Sheridan, R. B., 116, 244, 245,
269, 274, 276, 292, 305, 307,
308, 316, 374, 375, 397
—	Mrs., 401
Sicard, Abbe, 443, 445
Siddons, Mrs., 75, 172, 176, 265,
292,	294, 407; letters from,
293,	294
Si&yes, Abbe, 171
Sillery, Madame de, 244, 245
Smith, Adam, 89, 91, 92, 93, 94,
95, 96, 110, 111, 140, 167
—	Robert, 422, 424
—	Sydney, 279, 374, 423
—	William, M.P., 265, 319, 321,
375, 403, 438, 445
Smollett, Dr., 102, 110
4 Societe des Amis de la Constitu-
tion/ 144
Solly, Mrs., 23
Southey, R., 116, 219, 291
South Wales in 1791, 177-200
Spencer, 309, 349
Stamford, Lord, 6, 295
Stanhope, Lord, 116, 118, 139
Stanley, Lord, 375
Staunton, Sir G., 306
Steed, 19
Steevens, George, 384, 393
Stoke Newington, 1, 6
-----Chapel, 1, 29
Stone, Miss, 391, 403
—	William, 244, 287, 289, 290,
292, 319
Stothard, T., 215, 248, 262, 264,
265, 325, 448
Stourbridge, 4, 5, 46
Strachan, Sir R., 323
Sumner, Charles, 450
Sunday Schools, 46, 47
Supping Club, 8
Swift, Mrs., 88
TALLIEN, 432
Tankerville, Lord, 419, 420INDEX
461
TAN
Tann, 84
Tenby in 1791, 189, 190
Tennant, 422
Tens, du, 303
Thomson, 268
Thoresby, Rev. Mr., 8
Thornton, Bonnel, 306
Thrale, Cecilia, 96, 103, 105,
241, 337, 338, 363, 419
—	the Misses, 420
—	Mrs., 338
Tickell, Mrs., 265
Ticknor, 112
Tierney, 322, 375
Tooke, Horne, 243, 261, 268,
274, 276, 287, 288, 289, 291,
292, 307, 316, 320, 321, 325,
334, 378
Topham, 176
Torso, Lines to the, 439
Toulouse, Archbishop of, 266
Towers, Rev. Dr., 29
Towgood, 274, 390
Townley, 244
Travers (surgeon), 426
Tuffin, 244, 261, 265, 268, 286,
325, 343
Turgot, 266
Tweddle, 243
YALENTIA, Lord, 22, 45, 46,
295
Vaughan, B., 263
— W., 263
4 Vindiche Gallic®,’ 117, 301
Voltaire, 95, 172, 303
WAKEFIELD, Rev. Gilbert,
75, 379, 380
Walpole, 377
Warburton, Bishop, 307, 416
— Mrs., 308
ZEL
Warton, J., 304, 305, 307, 355
356, 384
—	Thomas, 76, 240 ’
Wedgwood, T., 422
Welch, George, 6, 74
—	Kemp, 73 n
—	Thomas, 6, 12
—	and Rogers, 7
Welsh peasantry in 1791, 195
Wesley lying in state, 163
West, Benjamin, 426
—	Raphael, 426
Westall, R., 215
Westminster election, 320, 321
Westmoreland, Lord, 317
Weston, 265, 301
Whitbread, 116, 274
White, Miss, 348
Whitworth, Lord, 428
Wickes, John, 4
—	Obadiah, 2, 4
Wilberforce, 322
Wilkes, John, 39, 40, 140, 308,
377
Wilkie (author of 4 Epigoniad ’),
166
Williams, Cecilia, 77, 204
—	Helen Maria, 76, 157, 172,
204
Wilson, Mr. and Mrs., 12
Windham, W., 116, 325, 448
Wollstonecraft, Mary, 29
Wordsworth, W., 24, 58, 68, 116,
117, 156, 217, 218, 219, 236,
291
World, The, 176, 211, 306
Worthington, Mary, 27, 296, 297
Wren, Sir C., 308
Wyatt, 427
yEO, E. R., 40, 42
4 ^ELUCO,’ HO, 157, 297
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