BON MOTS
3 AMUR i. FOOTE $c
IHEOUORE ffOOK.
GROTESQUES
BY AUBREY
BEARDSLEY
EX ILBiyS
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B O N - M O T S.
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LONDON: Published by J, M. DENT and Company
at Aldine House in Great Eastern Street, E C,
MDCCCXCIV
" The arrival of a fttej-ry-andrew in a towi is
more beneficial to the health of the inhabitants than
twenty asses loaded with medicine ^
' ' Now, as / never invent a jest tnyscl/^ so I make
it a rule never to laugh at other people' s." — Swift's
Dull Man.
^' Let the wits and humorists he consoled ; they
have the best of it— and the dull ones know it."'—
R. H. HORNE.
" He that will lose his friend for a jest desemes
to die a beggar by the bargain^ — Fuller.
'•'■ Act Jreely, carelessly^ capriciously ; as if our
•veins ran rvith quicksilver ; and not utter a phrase
but what shall come forth steeped in the very brine
of conceit, and sparkle like salt in fire.'' — Ben
JONSON.
1 N T R O D U C T I (J N.
SAMUEL FOOTE.
COME writer of the time, with a turn for
nick-names, dubbed Samuel Foote "the
English Aristophanes," and every writer
"echoes the conceit." As an author of
satirical farce and broad comedy, as a mim-
etic actor, and as a ready wit, he stood alone
during the third quarter of the eighteenth
century. Petted and admired for his fortunes
— he ran through three — and for the life and
spirit with which he made himself one of the
gay world, he was feared, and more or less
cordially detested, as a man of ready and un-
measured wit, and of powers of mimicry which
have never been equalled. His qualities as a
social wit, as a teller of good stories, an utterer
of bon-mots when " i' the vein" and among
congenial company, are borne witness to by
many of his friends and acquaintances. Even
Doctor Johnson, "the Caliban of literature,"
6 Introduction.
could not resist him. "The first time I was
in company with Foote was at Fitzherbert's.
Having no good opinion of the fellow, I was
resolved not to be pleased ; and it is very diffi-
cult to please a man against his w ill. I \\ent
on eating my dinner pretty sullenly, affecting
not to mind him. But the dog was so very
comical that I was obliged to lay down my
knife and fork, throw myself back upon my
chair, and fairly laugh it out. No, Sir, he was
irresistible. He upon one occasion experi-
enced, in an extraordinary degree, the efficacy
of his powers of entertaining. Amongst the
many and various modes which he tried of
getting money, he became a partner with a
small-beer brewer, and he was to have a share
of the profits for procuring customers amongst
his numerous acquaintance. Fitzherbert was
one who took his small-beer ; but it was so bad
that the servants resolved not to drink it. They
were at some loss how to notify their resolu-
tion, being afraid of offending their master,
who they knew liked Foote much as a com-
panion. At last they fixed upon a little black
boy, who was rather a favourite, to be their
deputy, and deliver their i-emonstrance ; and,
having invested him with the whole authority
of the kitchen, he was to inform Mr Fitzherbert,
in all their names, upon a certain day, that they
would drink Foote's small-beer no longer.
On that day Foote happened to dine at Fitz-
Introduction. 7
herbert's, and this boy served at table ; he
was so dehghted with Foote's stories and
merriment and grimace, that when he went
downstairs, he told them, ' This is the finest
man I have ever seen. I will not deliver your
message. I will drink his small-beer 1' " And
thus it was that the "small-beer" of Foote's
somewhat coarse nature was put up with for
the sake of his wit and his " loud, obstreperous,
broad-faced mirth." David Garrick, Samuel
Johnson, and many lesser luminaries, might
fear their being "taken off" on the Hay-
market stage, and threaten the mimic with
chastisement legal and physical, yet they all
unite in praise of his humour and wit. His
humour was decidedly Aristophanic ; that
is to say, broad, easy, reckless, satirical, with-
out the slightest alloy of bonhomie, and full
of the directest personalities. — A meteor that
delighted by the splendour cf its blaze. — The
meteor of the moment who possessed every
species of wit. — He was of that sort that he
would rather lose his friend than his jest. — He
never stopped the career of his bon-inot out of
respect to persons ; it as readily struck a royal
duke as a poor player. — His conversation was
of such a description that "nought but itself
could be its parallel!" Teeming with fancy,
and various knowledge, fearless of con-
sequences, and privileged in the character
of a wit, he took his stand with confidence,
8 Introduction.
and threw his shafts around him with the
dexterity of a master, the first and the last of
his own school. — ^Whatever we talked about —
whether fox-hunting, the turf, or any other
subject — Foote instantly took the lead and
delighted us all. — Very entertaining, with a
kind of conversation between wit and buffoon-
ery. — He has a great range for wit, he never
lets truth stand between him and a jest, and he
is sometimes mighty coarse. — He has wit to
ridicule you, invention to frame a story of you,
humour to help it about ; and when he has set
the town a-laughing, he puts on a familiar air
and shakes you by the hand. — He came into
the room dressed out in a frock suit of green
and silver lace, bag-wig, sword, bouquet, and
point ruffles, and immediately joined the
critical circle of the upper end of the room.
Nobody knew him. He, however, soon boldly
entered into conversation ; and by the brilliancy
of his wit, the justness of his remarks, and the
unembarrassed freedom of his manners, attracted
the general notice.
The following is his life in briefest outline : —
1720. Born in January at Truro, Cornwall.
His father was a commissioner in the prize-
office, and one time M.P. for Tiverton and
Mayor of Truro. His mother, Eleanor
Goodere, was a woman of fortune. — Foote
was educated at Worcester. — 1737. Matricu-
lated at Worcester College, Oxford. Pro-
Introduction. 9
ceeding to London, he entered the Temple
and became noted as a fashionable man of
the town. — 1744. Acted, anonymously and
unsuccessfully, in Othello. — 1745. .Acted at
Drury Lane. — 1747. He opened the Hay-
market Theatre ; turning his talents as mimic
to account in a concert, a farce, and an en-
tertainment of his own called the Diversions of
the Morning. This performance being stopped
by the authorities, Foote invited the public to
partake of "a dish of chocolate" and "a
dish of tea " ; which were the same kind of
thing under another name. — 1747. November,
Tea at 6.j>oat the Hay market. — 1748. Chocolate
in Ireland, and An Auction of Pictures. — 1749.
March, The Knight, comedy.— r Having inherited
a second fortune, Foote went abroad for a few
years. — 1752. Taste, a comedy, at Drury Lane.
— 1753. The Englishman in Paris, Covent
Garden. — 1756, The Englishman returned from
Paris. — 1757. The Author. Visited Dublin. —
1759. Visited Edinburgh and Dublin. — 1760.
The Mirror. — 1762. The Orators ; The Liar.- —
1763. The Mayor of Garratt. — 1764. The
Patron. — 1765. The Commissary. — 1766. Owing
to an accident when riding Foote lost a leg. —
1768. The Devil upon Tiao .Sticks. — 1770. The
Lame Lover. — 1771. The Maid of Bath. — 1772.
The Nabob. — 1773. The Bankrupt, The Primi-
tive Puppet Shmo, and The Handsotne House-
maid, or Piety in Pattens. — 1774. The Cozeners.
lo Introduction.
— 1776. The Capuchin. — 1777. October 21, Died
at Dover on his way to France. Buried in
Westminster Abbey.
W. J.
THEODORE HOOK.
The actual reputation of Theodore Hook
is, says Doctor Garnett, '• that of a great
master in a low style of humour, and the most
brilliant improvisatore, \\hether with the pen or
at the piano, that his country has seen." As
such indeed, is he shown to us in contemporary
records from the time when, as a youth, he
astonished an older and more polished wit
— Sheridan — with his extraordinary powers
of improvising, to the time when, done up in
purse, in body, and in mind, he lay jesting upon
his deathbed. In the art of punning he was
without a rival, as he was also in the exercise
of the still less legitimate form of humour
contained in hoaxes. Early left motherless, he
was injudiciously brought up by a father pleased
to turn his precocious talents into a profitable
channel ; the result is too well-known to need
enlarging upon. " Handsome, witty and
happy," he was soon made free of the green-
room and other centres of exhilarating life ; he
became a much-sought-after member of society
on account of his wonderful entertaining powers,
Introduction. ii
and to be much in society during the earlier
part of this century meant too often consequent
dissipation, and Hook paid the penalty both in
character and in body for the life into which he
had thus been placed, while yet a mere youth.
Entirely unaccustomed to anything in the shape
of business routine, he received a responsible
position in the Mauritius, from which he was
removed later on, there being found a deficiency
in his accounts of some twelve thousand pounds;
Hook, although not made criminally respon-
sible, was adjudged a debtor to the Crown for
that amount. Let us, however, turn to the
records of this brilliant and unflagging wit,
and see how his powers as a conversationalist,
an improvisatore, and sayer of good things, im-
pressed those among whom the good things
were said. It may be noted, in passing, as
curious that despite the unanimity with which
his improvising powers were spoken of as
unique, but few of the improvisations have
got committed to paper, — It seemed as if his
talent was essentially oral, and refused to give
itself wholly to a more permanent means of
sustaining his reputation. — The exuberance of
his fun was irrepressible. — Unabating spirit
and unflagging mirth made him the soul and
centre of the convivial circle. — Since the days
of Sheridan no more brilliant luminary had
flashed across the realm of fashion. — All Hook's
wit and gaiety was original, impromptu, the
12 Introduction.
offspring of the moment. — His conversation
was an unceasing stream of wit of which he was
profuse as if he knew the source to be inex-
haustible. — His jest was always ready, and his
repartee so prompt and so surely a hit, slight
if playful, but heavy if provoked, that all around
him soon became aw are that his fires were either
innocuously glancing or scorching as the cir-
cumstance infiamed or called them forth. — He
was, as entirely as any parents of bon-mots we
have known, above the suspicion of having pre-
meditated his i^oint. — The unvaried and irre-
pressible ebullience of Theodore Hook's vivacity,
which was a manifest exuberance from the
conjunction of rampant animal spirits, a suf)er-
abundance of corporeal vitality, a vivid sense
of the ludicrous, a consciousness of his own
unparalleled readiness and self-possession, not
to say an effrontery that nothing could daunt. —
He was tall, dark, and of a good person, with
small eyes, and features more round than weak ;
a face that had character and humour, but no
refinement. — He continued to sparkle humour
even when exhausted nature failed, and his
last words are said to have been a brilliant
jest. — No definition either of wit or humour
could have been framed that must not have
included him. — His life, in outline, is as follows :
— 1788. Theodore Edward Hook was born in
London on September 22. His father, James
Hook, was a popular composer ; his mother,
Introduction. 13
whose maiden name was Madden, wrote several
novels. — Educated at private schools ; a short
time at Harrow and Oxford. — 1805. The
Soldier's Return, a drama. — 1806. Catch him
ivho Can and Killing no Murder, farces. —
1809. Berners Street hoax. — 1813. Appointed
accountant-general and treasurer of the island
of Mauritius. — 1817. Returned to England. —
1 8 19. Exchange no Robbery, farce ; The Arca-
dian, an ephemeral magazine ; Tentamcn, a
satire on Queen Caroline. — 1820. ^Appointed
editor of John Bull. — 1823-25. In prison for
debt to the Crown. — 1826-29. Sayings and
Doifigs. — 1830. Maxwell. — 1832. Life of Sir
David Daird. — 1833. The Parsons Daughter
and Loi£»/«
the kitchen.''''
—'AAJW—
"D ICH, the actor, had a vulgar habit of call-
ing everybody Mister. Foote was so
offended at being thus addressed that he asked
Rich the reason of his not giving him his proper
name.
"Don't be angry," Rich replied, "for, I
assure you, I sometimes forget my own
name."
"Indeed!" retorted Foote, "that is extra-
ordinary ; for I knew you could not write your
own name, but I didn't suppose you could
forget it."
A/TY horse, sir ! Why, I '11 wager it to stand
still faster than yours can gallop !
34
Bon-Mots.
COMEONE having said, "What a pleasure
it is to pay our debts," Foote immediately
gave the following lecturette on The advantage
of not paying our debts.
" This pre-supposes a person to be a man of
fortune ; otherwise he would not gain credit.
It is the art of living without money. It saves
the trouble and expense of keeping accounts ;
and makes other people work, in order to give
ourselves repose. It prevents the cares and
embarrassments of riches. It checks avarice,
and encourages generosity ; as people are com-
monly more liberal of others' goods than their
own : while it possesses that genuine spark of
primitive Christianity which would live in a
constant communion of all property. In short,
it draws the inquiries and attention of the world
on us while we live, and makes us smcerely re-
gretted when we die."
— ^A/VV' —
^\X7'HEN a piece of Foote's was being acted
at a Dublin theatre, the band — not
having been given any music — did not strike up
in the proper place. Foote immediately ap-
peared on the stage, though not acting, and
advancing to the footlights, said, " Ladies and
gentlemen, I am so sorry for your disappoint-
ment ; but the cause of it is soon explained —
There is no music in the orchestra."
Samuel Foote.
35
"pOOTE, on being asked his opinion of the
great Shakespeare Jubilee at Stratford-on
Avon, replied : — A Jubilee is a public invita-
tion, urged by puffing, to go post without horses''
to an obscure borough with-
out representatives ; governed
by a mayor and aldermen who
are no magistrates ; to cele-
brate a great poet whose
own works have made him
immortal by an ode with-
out poetry ; music without
melody ; a dinner without
victuals ; lodgings without
beds ; a crowd without com-
pany ; a masquerade where
half the people appear bare-
faced ; a horse-race up to the knees in water ;
fireworks extinguished as soon as they are
lighted ; and a boarded booth by way of
amphitheatre, which is to be taken down in
three days, and sold by public auction.
y^^FTER the long confinement which neces-
sarily followed the amputation of his leg,
Foote described what he had gone through,
incidentally exclaiming, "What bushels of
bark have I taken ! Poets talk of their Dryads
and Fauns, the fabulous tenants of forests and
groves ; now I have literally swallowed a wood. "
36 Bon-Mots.
"POOTE walking up and down the rooms at
Bath, a gentleman with him asked a third
a lady's name just then passing by them, to
which he replied, " Brown, sir."
"Ay," said Foote, staring at the lady, "a
lovely Browfi indeed."
— -Aiyvj—
C OMEONE having said of Foote after he had
lost a leg that he was then under the neces-
sity of growing speedily rich, Foote wanted to
know whether the friend meant that "now I
have but one leg it won't be so easy for me to
run out ; perhaps, however," he added, "like
War bur ton on Shakespeare, I have found a
meaning the author never had."
'X'HE building of Richmond Bridge was being
discussed, when some nobleman enquired
whether the piers were to be built of wood or
stone.
"Stone, to be sure," said Foote, "for there
are too many wooden peers in this country
already."
— ^aaa^ —
'T'ALKING of the best method of cutting up a
haunch of venison, Foote said, "the best
carver in the world was a man who could cut
up a haunch dexterously, and eat none himself. "
Samuel Foote. 37
"POOTE having received much attention from
the Eton boys, in showing him about the
College, collected them about him in the
quadrangle.
"Now, young gentlemen," said he, "what
can I do for you to show you how much I am
obliged to you?"
'•' Tell us, Mr Foote," begged the leader,
" the best thing you ever said."
"Well," rejoined Foote, "I once saw a
little blackguard of a chimney-sweeper mounted
on a noble steed, prancing and curveting in
all the pride and magnificence of nature.
'There,' said I, 'goes Warburton on Shakes-
peare.' "
— »aAAa^—
■\^HEN in Dublin it was expected that Foote
would make much wit out of a stupid,
over-dressed fop^Cook by name. Asked his
opinion of the beau, he replied, " I think this
same Mr Cook the most sensible, well-bred
man in your whole city."
— wWVv—
pOOTE had a small bust of Garrick on his
bureau; "You will be surprised," he
remarked to a friend, "that I allow him so
near my gold, — but, you will observe, he has
no hands ! "
38 Bon-Mots.
_ A T one of the coffee-houses which Foote
frequented he and some friends were
making a collection for the relief of a poor
fellow — a decayed actor — who was nicknamed
the Captain of the Four Winds,
because his hat was worn into
four spouts. Each person present
dropped his contribution into the hat
as it was held out to him. Seeing
1 'H \~^ what a respectable sum was made
Ply ^P) Foote, never losing the chance
T JkMk^ of a thrust at money-loving Garrick,
exclaimed, "If Garrick hears of
this he will certainly send us kis hat."
— 'A/Vvv—
A
T a dinner at which Foote was present,
during a Scotch trip, an old lady being
called upon for a toast, gave Charles the Third.
" Of Spain, Madam ? " inquired Foote.
"No, sir," cried the old lady indignantly,
"of England."
" Pooh ! never mind her," said one of the
company, " she is one of our old folks,
who have not got rid of their political pre-
judices."
"Oh! dear sir, make no apology," cried
Foote, " I was prepared for all this ; as, from
your living so far north as you do, I suppose
none of you have yei heard of the Revolutioti ! "
Samuel Foote. 39
IV/TRS GIBBER having had some Httle quarrel
with Garrick about increase of salary, in
which, after some struggles, she succeeded, was
soon afterwards singing a popular song of the
day with the following line in it : —
" The roses will bloom when there 's peace in the
breast."
" Very true," said Foote, singing out to the
same tune —
" So the turtles will coo when they've peas in their
craws."
—'AP\l\r'i—
/^NE of the Haymarket actors, praising a
loin of veal on Foote's table, asked him
who was his butcher.
" I think his name is Addison," said Foote.
"Addison!" exclaimed the other, "I
wonder is he any relation to the great
Addison?"
" Why, that I don't exactly know : and yet
I think he must be, as he is seldom without his
steel (Steele) by his side."
— •Af\l\jv —
"Y^HEN Macklin was giving his coffee-house
lectures on oratory, Foote, who was
then a dashing young man of the town,
attended them constantly, and was as much
the object of attention to the company as the
40 Bon-Mots.
orator. One night when Macklin was formally
preparing to begin, hearing Foote rattling
loudly away at the lower end of the room, and
thinking at once to silence him, he called out
in a sarcastic manner, " Pray, young man, do
you know what I am going to say ? "
" No, sir," said Foote readily, " do you ?*"
-W\/\/Vv—
A POOR author, who was not remarkable for
cleanliness, dining with Foote, Lord K.,
who happened to be at the table, was com-
plimenting him on his latest performance.
'•Oh, my lord ! " said the scribe, " now you
are ironing* me."
"Not he, indeed," said Foote, "for if his
ordship meant to do that, he certainly would
have washed yoti Jirst, ' '
/^NE gentleman, at a coffee-house, was re-
proving another, saying that he always
forgot when his reckoning was paid for him,
but was sure to rememher when he paid for
anybody else.
"Yes, poor fellow," said Foote, "'tis owing
to an infirmity he has got — he has lost Aa/f ol
his memory."
"^ A slang word of the time for the exercise of irony.
42 Bon-Mots.
A LADY who was very large and fat was
walking on the Steine at Brighton one
day, when somebody exclaimed, " Here comes
Mrs Gammon ! "
" Who ? " said Foote, holding up his glass at
the same time, " only a si7iglc gammon f Why,
'tis the 7vhole of the old sow herself."
— A/^JSjV' —
A N actor was observing to Foote what a
humdrum kind of man Goldsmith ap-
peared to be in the green-room, compared
with the figure he made in his poetry.
" The reason of that," answered Foote, " is
plain, — because themuses are better companions
than the players."
T^URING the Shakespeare Jubilee festival at
Stratford-on-Avon, Foote distinguished
himself at all the public places, in a capital
line of wit and brilliancy. Being on the green
one evening, rattling away in his usual manner,
a large fat country squire, most gorgeously
dressed out in silver-laced clothes, approached
the circle with great civility. Foote, taking
him for one of the better sort of natives of the
town, thought this a good opportunity to pick
up some anecdotes about Shakespeare ; but the
squire, to avoid a subject for which he was
Samuel Foote. 43
totally unfit, turned it off by complaining of
the badness of the roads, the extortion of the
inns, bad beds, &c.
"Oh! then it appears," said Foote, "you
are not a native of this town. "
"No, no, sir," answered the squire, " I am
no native, Fcame all the way from Essex to see
the show.
"From Essex ! " retorted Foote (seeming as
though in great surprise, and viewing him from
head to heel), "and pray, sir, let me ask you
one question more : who drove you f"
r^NE of the actors whom Foote had mimicked
resented it so much that he insisted upon
an apology or a duel. He called upon Foote,
when the wit asked him what he had to com-
plain of; adding: "Sir, you seem to be of
opinion that taking any person off is making
them ridiculous ; if you will but have a moment's
patience you shall see me take myself off."
Foote then left the room, and it was some
time before the actor realised that he had,
. literally, taken himself off.
A GENTLEMAN at Foote's table complain-
ing that the beer was cold, " Hand the
tankard then to Lord Kellie," said he, "and
it will h^ fire-proof vn. a moment."
44
Bon-Mots.
■pOOTE having some pique towards Colonel
Bowden, who stuttered very badly, he
happened to cross him on
the Richmond road, as he
was taking a drive with a
friend.
' ' How do you do, Colonel ? ''
asks Foote's companion.
" Pre-pre-pre-pretty,"
stammered the Colonel in
his effort to say pretty well.
Foote ordering the post-boy
to drive on, his companion
exclaimed, " Why do you
drive off so rudely ? "
" Oh," replied Foote, " to
save time ; as we shall be at
Hounslow before he '11 be
well enough to give you an answer."
— J^J\l\lV' —
A WORTHY knight, accustomed to swear
at every other word, called one day on
Foote, after being present at some fire-ex-
tinguishing experiments. Foote enquired if
the chemical balls used were effectual.
"Ay, damme," said the other, "they would
extinguish hell fire."
"Then," said Foote, "you had better order
a number of them to be put into your coffin."
Samuel Foote. 45
A T an evening party a gentleman seeing some
wax fall from the chandelier on the bosom
of the dress of a lady who sat next to him, im-
mediately took out his watch and clapped one
of the seals upon it.
" Bless me, sir, what are you doing? " asked
the astonished lady.
"Why, madam," said Foote, "he is only
trying to make an impression upon you."
— 'A!\J\i^ —
" "^^THAT could possess you, Foote, to go on
the stage and play the fool?" asked
a not over wise nobleman.
"The very same reason that actuates your
lordship to play it off the stage."
' ' What can that be ? "
"Want," replied the wit.
" Want ! " echoed his lordship.
*• Ay," said Foote, "Want of money makes
me play the fool, and want of wit your lord-
ship."
— A/\J\/V' —
T ORD KELLIE having cracked some rather
coarse jokes at the expense of a friend, an
Irishman who heard it said, " If he had treated
me so, I would have pulled him by the nose."
" Pull /lim by the. nose ! " exclaimed Foote,'
" you might just as well thrust your hand into
a furnace."
46 Bon -Mots.
'T'HE glass having gone merrily round one
evening, Foote, as toast-master, called on
a young nobleman remarkable for his licentious-
ness, for his toast.
"Damme," said he, "I'll give you 'the
Devil.'"
"Very good," answered Foote, " I have no
objection to any of your lordship's friends."
V\/'HEN Foote w^as in Edinburgh, a gentle-
man having taken him round and shown
him all the things of beauty and interest^ asked
what he thought the most agreeable prospect in
Scotland.
"Why, to be plain with you," said Foote,
" much the finest prospect you have is the road
to England."
— J\/\/\/V- —
TT being told to Foote that Garrick, on his
visiting friends and acquaintances in the
country, always left behind him verses in ful-
some praise of his host, he immediately pro-
duced these lines : —
" Wherever Garrick dines or sleeps,
He drops a doggerel rhyme;
The snail thus marks the road she creeps,
By slobb'ring sordid slime."'
Samuel Foote.
47
pONVERSATION turning one day on a
lady having married very happily, whose
previous life had been of very doubtful com-
plexion, some one attributed the unexpected
result to her having frankly told her husband,
before marriage, all that had happened.
"What candour she must have had, what
honesty ! " was the general remark.
"Yes," said Foote, "and what an amazing
memory
-wvW^
TOURING one of his trips to Dublin, Foote
was much solicited by a young man of
fashion to assist him in ,^^ ,
a miscellany of poems
and essays, which he
was about to publish.
When Foote asked to
see the MS., the young
man said, "that at
present he had only
conceived the different
poems, but had put none
of them to paper."
"Oh, if that be the
state of the case," re-
plied Foote, " I will give
you a motto from Milton for the work in its
present condition —
' Things nnattempted yet , in p7-ose or rhyme V "
48 Bon-Mots,
"pOOTE, who lived on terms of intimacy with
Lord Kellie, took as many liberties with
his Bardolphian countenance as did ever
Falstaff with that of his friend. One day his
lordship, choosing to forget his promise of
dining with Foote, the latter was piqued so
that he called out loud enough to be heard by
all in the coffee-room, " Well, my lord, since
you cannot do me the honour of dining with
me to-day, will you be so good as you ride by,
just to look over against my south wall ? For,
as we have had little or no sun for this fortnight
past, my peaches will want the assistance of
your lordship's countenance."
A PLAY of words between Foote and Quin
has been well versified as follows : —
As Quin and Foote
One day walked out
To view the country round,
In merry mood
They chatting stood
Hard by the village pound.
Foote from his poke
A shilling took,
And said, " I '11 bet a penny,
In a short space
Within this place
I '11 make this piece a guinea."
Samuel Foote. 49
Upon the ground,
Within the pound,
The shilling soon was thrown :
" Behold," says Foote,
" The thing's made out.
For there is one pound one."
" I wonder not,"
Says Quin, " that thought
Should in your head be found;
Since that 's the way
Your debts you pay —
A shilling in the pound "
—^A/\/\/v—
COME one dining with Foote at his Fulham
house said that ' ' much as he loved porter
he could never drink it ivithout a head'''
"That must be a mistake," said his host,
" as you have done so to my knowledge about
these twenty years."
A FRIEND of Foote's published a book
called his Oum Thoughts, of which he
promised a second part. The friend being in
company with Foote some time after at the
Bedford coffee-house, pressed him to give an
opinion of the book, which the wit at first
declined. At length, being at a loss for an
excuse, he replied, "Sir, I will wait for your
next book — second thoughts are best.'"
D
so Bon-Mots.
A T the time of the Stratford Jubilee, planned
and conducted by Garrick in honour of
Shakespeare, the weather turned out wet and
cold, especially the day set apart for
the grand procession.
Garrick, meeting Foote that morn-
ing in the public breakfast room,
just as a heavy shower commenced,
exclaimed with evident chagrin,
"Well, Sam, what do you think of
all this?"
" Think of it," answered Foote with a thrust
at Garrick's weakness; "why, as a Christian
should do, I think it is God's revenge agaitist
va?iity."
— wvw—
T^ELAVAL having presented his chaplain to
a good living, a person in company said,
" Well, let the Delavals alone for doing things
in good style."
"That may be so," said Foote, "but it is
not, however, their usual ^fl//."
-wvVVv—
"DEING asked at what age he thought female
beauty declined, Foote replied, " Woman
is to be counted like a game of piquet : twenty-
five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight,
twenty-nine, — sixty.''
Samuel Foote. 51
"n ETURNING from dining with a Lord of
the Admiralty, Foote was met by a
friend, who asked him what sort of a day he
had had.
"Very indifferent, indeed; bad company,
and a worse dinner."
"I wonder at that," said the other, " as I
thought the Admiral a jolly good fellow."
"Why, as to that, he may be very good as
a sea-lord ; but take it from me, he is very bad
as a la?id-lord. "
— WW^-
C\^ another day, returning from the same
hospitable board, he exclaimed, "Worse
and worse ! everything about the table stunk
except the vinegar — and that was sweet. "
— 'Af\/\f\r—
LJ OLLAND, a pupil of Garrick's, and actor
at Drury Lane Theatre, was the son of a
baker ; he was a great friend of Foote, to whom
he left a legacy, and whom he appointed as
one of the bearers at his funeral.
Looking in at the Bedford coffee-house after
the last sad office, Foote was asked if he had
attended the remains of his old friend to their
last resting-place. ''Yes," he replied (the
tears scarce dry upon his cheeks), " poor fellow,
I have just seen him shoved into the family
52 Bon-Mots.
A FTER the death of Lady Delaval, a friend
meeting Foote, said he had just seen Sir
Francis dressed in deep mourning, by which he
supposed he must have lost some valued friend.
" Oh ! no," said Foote, "not at all ; Frank 's
only a widcnver,"
C IR FRANCIS DELAVAL and Foote were
passing through Soho, not a little in-
ebriated — when a fair resident of the neighbour-
hood called out to them from a window. This
was enough to excite the gallantry of Sir
Francis, who instantly dropping on one knee,
theatrically exclaimed, " A/i, ma chere belle !"
Foote, determined not to be outdone in
gallantry, placed himself in a similar attitude
by the side of Sir Francis, and exclaimed in
the same impassioned tone and manner, "Ah,
ma Jeze-bel ! "
A YOUNG actress having made her debfit at
the Haymarket Theatre with very indiffer-
ent success, was every now and then soliciting
Foote to know ' ' when she should make her
next appearance."
"Your next appearance ? " said he one day
musingly, "let me see; why, madam, you
shall make your next appearance — 7vhc?i the
public has forgotten your first.^'
Samuel Foote.
53
"POOTE was rattling away in his usual lively
manner, at a friend's table, when a young
gentleman, who either had a mind to set up as
a second-hand wit, or
wanted to cheapen the
talent, requested him
" to give him his last
good thing,"
" Why, so I would,"
said Foote, " if I could
trust you."
' ' What, do you doubt
my integrity? "
" Not at all, my dear
sir," replied the ever-
ready wit, "but I do your steadiness; for,
believe me, there are very few people that
can carry a bon-mot safely."
— wvWn^
^\\^HEN Foote first heard of Dr Blair's writ-
ing A'otes on Ossian, he observed that
the booksellers ought to allow a great discount
to the purchasers ; as the notes required such
a stretch of credit.
T-J E used to say that the difference of the hue
of a court after the death of a general
officer or of a bishop, was that of a lobster before
and after boiling.
54 Bon-Mots.
TWINING at a nobleman's table, where the
company were praising the claret, his
lordship explained that he had received a hogs-
head of that wine in return for a couple of
hounds which he had presented to Count
Lanragais.
" Why, then, my lord," exclaimed Foote, " I
not only think your wine excellent, but doo-
cheap into the bargain."
— wV\/V\^-
A/TEETING a lady at Brighton, Foote asked
what brought her there.
"Why. really," said she, "I don't know;
mere wantonness, I believe."
"And pray, my lady," asked Foote, "have
you been cured yet?"
—j\fj\t\r^—
/^F a young gentleman who was rather back-
ward in paying his debts, Foote said with
emphasis, "He is a voy promising young
man."
VXTHEN Foote was in Ireland, on seeing the
wretched appearance of the peasantry
there, particularly in regard to their apparel, he
observed, " that he never knew before what the
beggars in England did with their cast-off
clothes,''''
Samuel Foote. 55
A PERSON abusing actors in general, said
that they had "not even one grain of
gratitude about them."
"Nay, now," said Foote, "you are too
severe upon the profession ; for to my certain
knowledge, there are no people more distressed
at benefits forgotten y
-~'^J\J\I\r^-
TI700TE was dining in a mixed company
soon after the death of one friend and
the bankruptcy of another ; the conversation,
not unnaturally, turned upon the mutability of
the world.
"Can you account for this?" asked Scott.,
a master-builder, who sat by Foote.
" Only by one supposition," answered
Foote, "and that is, that the world ivas built
by contract."
—H\J\t^—
A REMARKABLY thin lady seriously asked
Foote whether he believed in spirits.
"Ay, madam," answered he, looking her
full in the face, ''^ as su7'e as yoji are there."
— vwW—
r\F an actress who was remarkably awkward
with her arms, Foote said, "she kept
the races at arm's-length."
56
Bon-Mots.
COMEBODY praising Archibald Hamilton
as a well-read man, Foote said that he
did not see much of that about him. " I grant
you he reads a great many proofs ; but these
are no proofs of his reading.''''
— A/\/\/\/\, —
A N absurd custom prevailed in the Dublin
Theatre at the time of Foote's visit. Any
particular part of a performance which pleased
the audience they continued
applauding until the cur-
tain fell, and the play had
to finish though in the
middle. Such tribute of
applause generally fell to
the lot of the manager
(the elder Sheridan), and
was therefore winked at,
through vanity. Foote
attempted to cure him of it
by this strange proposal : —
" My dear Sheridan,"
said he, " I have a thought
just struck me, which I
imagine would relieve you
of a great deal of labour
and trouble."
" In what manner?" asked Sheridan eagerly,
"do inform me, and I shall be much obliged to
you."
Samuel Foote. 57
' ' Why, instead, of the character of Richard
the Third, can't you play King Henry in the
same tragedy?"
"Good Heavens! Mr Foote, why should I
relinquish Richard, when you have often been
a witness of my getting such universal applause
in the part ? "
''For that very reason, my dear friend,"
said Foote, "for if you'll but perform Henry
instead of Richard, the play, you know, from
the applause you '11 get in dying, will finish in
the first act, and then we can all go home in
good time to supper."
— ^y\/Vv» —
A CERTAIN baronet, a distiller by profes-
sion, made a speech in Parliament in
favour of the Administration, in the course of
which he "proved rather too much." Some
members of the Opposition were jesting with
Foote about it the next day.
"Ah," said he, " Sir Joseph would be a very
good sort of man, if he would only bring out
with him what he generally leaves at home —
a still-head.''
— Af^/SjV' —
/"^F the difference between intuition and
sagacity, Foote said that the first was
the eye, and the other the nose of the mind.
58 Bon-Mots.
"POOTE, dining one gala day at the Duke of
Leinster's in Dublin, where all the family
plate was brought out, and the table covered
with a profusion of made dishes, happened on
the same night to sup at the Countess of
Brandon's, who, seeing him eat rather heartily,
cried out, "Why, Foote, I thought you dined
with the Duke to-day, who entertains in the
grandest style of any man in Ireland?"
"That may be so, my lady," answered the
wit, "but it is not in my style to dine in a
silversjnith' s shop, and have all the victuals
brought from the apothecary s."
— '\l\l\lsr- —
QOME actors were rallying Dibble Davis one
morning in the green-room, on the awk-
ward cut of a new coat. Dibble apologised
for his own taste by saying, " It was the fault
of the tailor."
"Yes," said Foote, "poor man; and his
misfortjine too."
— 'A/X/V^ —
A PERSON of somewhat doubtful integrity
was bragging to Foote, "that however
other people might act, he had the satisfaction
to feel that his heart always lay at his tongue^ s
end.'"
"I always thought so," said Foote, "as I
never knew it lie in the right place."
6o Bon-Mots.
A FRIEND'S death had such an effect on
Foote, that he burst into tears, retired to
his room, and saw no company for two days ;
the third day, Jewel, his treasurer, calHng in
upon him, he asked him, with swollen eyes,
what time the funeral was to be.
" Not till next week, sir," replied the other,
" as I hear that the surgeons are first to dissect
his head."
These last words restored Foote's fancy, and
repeating them with some surprise, he asked —
" And what will they get there? I am sure
I have known poor P'rank these five and
twenty years, and I could never find anything
in it."
■pOOTE was riding out on the Downs near
Bath in company with a friend, when
they observed, at some distance, a person
coming towards them, who appeared to be
dressed out in gold lace.
"What beau on horseback is this?" asked
his friend ; and then added, on his coming a
httle nearer, " P'shaw ! 'tis nobody after all
but the little quicksilver apothecary with his
tawdry waistcoat."
" Be a little more circumspect for the future,"
said Foote, " as you see it is not all gold that
glisters."
Samuel Foote. 6i
A N assuming pedantic lady, boasting of the
many books which she had read, often
quoted Locke on the Huma?i Understanding.
"A work which," she said, "she admired
above all things ; yet there was one word in
it, which, though often repeated, she could
not distinctly make out ; and that was the
word id-ea, but she supposed it came from a
Greek derivation."
"You are perfectly right, madam," said
Foote, "it comes from the word ideaousky."
" And pray, sir, what does that mean?"
" The/emznine of idiot, madam ! "
A SKED if a child was not " the image of its
father," who was a very weak charactered
man, Foote replied that he did not know, but
there was certainly a great deal of the child in
the father.
— Af\J\/V- —
"Y^THEN Sir Francis Delaval introduced his
lady (a ninety-thousand pounder) into
the gay world, he was much rallied by his
acquaintance on the homeliness of her person ;
upon which Foote said, " that as he made the
match, he must likewise make his friend's
apology ; which was, that he bought her by
loeight, and paid nothing for the fashion."
62
Bon-Mots.
A PROPRIETOR of a declining newspaper
being asked in company how much he
divided yearly, and demurring to the question,
Foote answered quietly, "Oh, sir, this is an
amicable society ; they never divide upofi aiiy
account."
"POOTE was as great 2ibon-viva7it as wit, and
there is a story of his visiting a friend in
the city who was noted for his good dinners.
He arrived as luck
would have it just as
his friend and his wife
were about to dine. It
so happened that,
owing to a mischance
in the kitchen, there
was nothing more than
a tureen of soup and a
neck of mutton.
Accustomed to find
great variety at his
friend's table, Foote on
being asked to have
some soup, replied. " No— I '11 wait for some-
thing else."
To the soup succeeded the mutton, and the
hungry visitor to a similar question returned a
like answer.
The deception could be kept up no longer, and
Samuel Foote. 63
accordingly the lady of the house, with a
thousand apologies for it, told him of the
accident.
''Here, madam," cried Foote, interrupting
the lady with infinite good humour, " what, are
we then come to short allowance? Then here,
John, not so fast, bring back the mutton ; for
egad ! I find it is now neck or nothing with us."
—^aAJW—
■jV/TRS MACAU LAY having published a
pamphlet called Loose Thoughts, some
ladies, who happened to be in company with
Foote, deprecated the use of the title as very
improper for a woman.
" Not at all, ladies," said Foote, " the sooner
a woman gets rid of such thoughts the better."
V^THEN Foote parted with the patent of the
Haymarket Theatre to Colman, he got
himself engaged at the same time as a principal
performer. In negotiation some difficulty arose
over the value of the comedy of The LMine Loz'er,
Colman observing that it would not bring so
much as the other pieces.
" Yes, yes," said Foote, " it will ; for though
he is nominally lame, there will always be a
Foote for his support."
64 Bon-Mots.
A N artist friend of Foote's was eternally com-
plaining of illness, but could never tell
what was the matter with him. At length he
married, on hearing which Foote remarked,
" I heartily wish him joy ; for now he '11 readily
find out what 's the matter with him."
'X'HE same artist, meeting the wit some time
afterwards, exclaimed, "Well, Foote, you
have been premature about my finding out my
disorder, as I have got the best wife in the
world."
"I am sorry for that, my dear friend,"
answered he, " for you know the old proverb,
bad is the best."
"pOLLOWING a man in the street who did
not bear the best of characters, Foote
slapped him familiarly on the shoulder, mis-
taking him for a familiar friend. Discovering
his mistake, he apologised, "Oh, sir! I beg
your pardon, I really took you for a gentleman
who — "
"Well, sir," interrupted the other, "and am
I not a. gentleman ?"
"Nay, sir," said Foote, "and if you take it
up in that way, I must only beg your pardon
a second time."
Samuel Foote. 65
■pARON NEWMAN, a celebrated gambler
of the time (known as the left-handed
Baron*), being detected in the rooms at Bath
in the act of secreting a card, the company, in
their indignation, threw him out of
the window of the one-pair-of-stairs
room where they were playing.
The Baron, meeting Foote shortly
afterwards, loudly complained of the
usage to which he had been subjected,
and asked him what he should do to
repair his injured honour.
"Do!" said the wit, "why, 'tis a
plain case ; never play so high again so long
as you live."
— AAy\A^—
'X'HE loss of his leg Foote bore with wonderful
good humour, and made much merriment
over it, saying he had now no fear of corns,
sores or kibed heels ; that he would not change
his one good leg with Lord Spindle's two
drumsticks ; and though, to be sure, he might
find himself a little awkward at running, yet
he would hop with any man in England.
* The reason for this nickname was that, having
on one occasion concealed a card under his left hand
2X piquet, his antagonist, perceiving the cheat, thrust
a fork through the hand and nailed it to the table,
palpably convicting the Baron of his fraud.
E
66 Bon-Mots.
■\^HEN at school, having been set some
task, Foote once came up to the master,
a pompous pedant, with his exercise in one
hand and a huge dictionary under his arm,
presenting himself for examination with gravity
and submission amounting to grotesqueness.
Being received with the usual "Well, sir,
what do you want?" he replied, "Sir, I am
come to do away the imposition laid upon
me."
"What do you mean by imposition? I
would have you know, sir, I impose upon
nobody."
" I am sure then, sir," answered Foote, " if
you did not ivipose this duty upon me, I never
should have taken a natural fancy to it."
-^At\t\l\r—
"pOOTE was met by a friend in town with a
young man who was flashing away very
brilliantly, while Foote seemed grave.
"Why, Foote," said the friend, "youareflat
to-day ; you don't seem to relish a joke ! "
"You have not tried 7ne yei, sir," retorted
the wit.
/^ARRICK'S verse was so bad said Foote
that he dreaded dying before him, for
fear that "Davie" should have the composing
of his epitaph.
Samuel Foote. 67
A GENTLEMAN praising the personal
charms of a very plain woman before
Foote, the latter whispered to him, "And why
don't you lay claim to such an accomplished
beauty? "
"What right have I to her ?" asked the
other.
"Every right, by the law of all nations, as
the first discoz'erei:'"
T^HE difference between an Irishman and a
Scotchman in relishing a joke, is, accord-
ing to Foote, that the former laughs too soon,
and the other too late ; it being no uncommon
thing for a Scotchman to be one hour in finding
out the jest, and a second in rousing up his
faculties to enjoy it.
n^HE Lying Valet being, one hot night,
annexed as an afterpiece to the comedy
of The Devil upon Two Sticks, Garrick coming
into the green-room at the Haymarket, called
out exultantly to Foote, " Well, Sam, I see,
after all, you are glad to take up with one of
my farces."
" Why, yes, David," rejoined the ready wit,
" what could I do better ? I must have some
ventilator for this hot weather."
68
Bon-Mots.
pOOTE happening to spend the evening
with two dignitaries of the Church, the
conversation turned upon some point of
polemical divinity, which the
two churchmen took up on differ-
/ ent grounds with great vehe-
^\ mence and strength of argument.
Foote, during the contest, took
no other share in the debate
than in recruiting their spirits,
by constantly keeping their
glasses filled. At length one of
them turned to him and begged
that as he could be at times as
argumentative as witty, he would
step in as arbitrator of their
differences.
" I thank you kindly, gentle-
men," said Foote very gravely, "but I have
always made it a rule never to interfere in
family affaits."
^ X /"HEN an inferior actor at the Haymarket
once took off David Garrick, Foote
limped from the boxes to the green-room, and
severely rated him for his impudence.
"Why, sir," said the offender, "you take
him off every day, and why may not I ? "
" Because," replied the satirist, " yo?/ are not
qualified to kill gain e, and I am."
Samuel Foote. 69
A FTER one of his trips to the Emerald Isle
Foote was praising the hospitality of the
Irish, when a gentleman asked him whether he
had been at Cork.
"No, sir," answered Foote, "but I have
seen many draivmgs of it."
TJ E having satirised the Scotch pretty severely,
a gentleman asked Foote why he hated
that nation so much.
" You are mistaken," answered he, "I don't
hate the Scotch, neither do I hate frogs ; but
I would have everything keep to its native
ele7nent."
— aAJ\/V- —
"POOTE, on being asked why learned men
are to be found in rich men's houses, and
rich men never to be seen in those of the
learned, answered — " The^frj/ know what they
want, but the latter do not."
— 'AAA'-—
AS a theatrical novelty, Foote declared his
intention to announce for representation
at the Haymarket Theatre T/ie Fair Penitent
to be performed, for one night only, by a black
lady of great accomplishments.
70 Bon-Mots.
"pOOTE'S mother being in monetary diffi-
culties, wrote to her son, "Dear Sam, I
am in prison." With equal brevity he replied,
" Dear mother, so am I."
"YArHEN Foote was one day lamenting his
growing old, a pert young fellow asked
him what he would give to be as young as he.
" I would be content," answered Foote, " to
be ^.s foolish."
—j\t^J\l\r- —
"pOOTE being in company, and the wine
producing more riot than concord, he
observed one gentleman so far gone in debate
as to throw the bottle at his antagonist's head,
upon which, catching the missile in his hand,
he restored the harmony of the company by
observing, that ' ' if the bottle zvas passed so
quickly, not one of them would be able to
stand out the evening."
A FRIEND in company with Foote at a
coffee-house took up a newspaper, saying,
'' He wanted to see what the Ministry were
about."
"Look among the robberies," said Foote,
with a smile.
Samuel Foote.
"POOTE was fond of repeating the following
story of his first visit to Scotland : — He
was inquiring of an old Highlander, who had
formerly been prompter to the Edinburgh
Theatre, about the state of
the country with respect
to travelling, living, man-
ners, 6cc. , of all which the
Scot gave him very favour-
able accounts.
"Why then," said
Foote, ' ' with about ;^30o
a year one may live like
a gentleman in your
country."
" In truth, Master
Foote, I cannot tell that,
for as I never knew a man
there who spent half that sum, I don't know
what may come into his head who would
attempt to squaiider the whole."
—fJ\l\N^—
■jLTAVING dined at an inn at Salthill, Foote
asked for the bill. It was produced, and
the wit thinking it exorbitant, called for the host
and began by asking his name.
"Partridge, and please you," replied the
boniface.
" Partridge ! " echoed Foote, " it should be
woodcock by the length of your bill."
72 Bon-Mots.
CHORTLY after Foote had fitted up his
Fulham house, a friend came to see him,
and was duly taken all over the premises.
Foote then inquired how he liked it, and the
friend replied that it "was very neat, and
handsomely furnished ; but at the same time,
that there was not a room fit to swing a cat
in."
"Sir, I do not wish to swing cats in it,"
replied Foote.
A N artist named Forfeit having some job to
do for Foote, got into a foolish scrape
about the aritiquity of family with another
artist, who gave him such a drubbing as con-
fined him to his bed for a considerable time.
" Forfeit ! Forfeit ! " said Foote, " why surely
you have the best of the argument ; your family
is not only several thousand years old, but at
the same time the tiiost nu}?ierous of any on the
face of the globe, on the authority of Shake-
speare —
" ' All the souls that are, were Forfeit once ! ' "
_Ay\/\/v^—
"DEIXG asked what he thought of Sir Basil
Keith's appointment to the governorship
of Jamaica, Foote exclaimed —
"What do I think? I think that the Irish
take us all in and the Scots turn us all out."
Samuel Foote. "Ji
A CONCEITED young man asked Foote
what apology he should make for not
being one of a party the day before, to which
he had been invited.
''Oh, my dear sir," replied the wit, "say
nothing about it, you were not missed."
A PHYSICIAN at Bath told Foote that he
was thinking of publishing his poems, but
had so many irons in the fire that he didn't
quite know what to do.
"Take my advice," said Foote.
" What is that ?" asked the medico.
" Put your poems into the fire, with the rest
of your irons."
—^A/\/\/v—
\^HEN Foote was in Ireland he happened
to see at the Castle one kvee day a
person in the suite of the Lord Lieutenant
whom he thought he had known for many
years to have lived rather a life of expediency
in London. To corroborate his suspicion, he
asked Lord Town send who he was.
"That is one of my gentlemen at large,"
answered his Excellency, " do you know him ? "
" Oh yes," said Foote, "very well ; and what
you tell me of him is very extraordinary ; first
that he is a gentleman., and next that he is at
large"
Samuel Foote. 75
lyrRS REDDISH had been playing the
Queen in Richard III. one night at
Drury Lane Theatre. She was a woman of a
coarse masculine build. A gentleman who sat
next Foote asked her name, and on hearing
it, repeated, " Reddish, Reddish !" as though
trying to recollect her.
"Ay, sir," added the wit, '■'■ horse Reddish."
— A/\/\/V- —
■pOOTE went once to spend Christmas with
a friend in the country, when the weather
being very cold, and but bad fires in the house
owing to the scarcity of wood, Foote deter-
mined to make his stay as short as possible.
Accordingly, on the third day of his visit he
ordered his chaise, and was preparing to set out
for town.
His friend noticing his preparations, asked
him what hurry he was in, and pressed him to
stay.
"No, no," said Foote, "was I to stay any
longer, you would not let me have a leg to stand
on."
"Why, surely," said his friend, " we do not
drink so hard."
" No, but there is so little wood in your
house, that I am afraid one of your servants
may light the fires some morning with my right
leg."
76 Bon-Mots.
/^N being complimented on a beautiful pair
of carriage horses one day, Foote replied,
" Yes, I am never without a set of duns in my
retinue ; but with this difference, that in the
summer I drive the duns, and in the winter the
duns drive me."
— 'AAA^^
QITTING in a coftee-room one day, and a
dog being very troublesome, Foote bade
the waiter kick him out. The waiter having
failed to do so, and the dog still pestering him,
Foote said if the waiter didn't kick the dog out,
he would kick him out.
" Sir," said an obtrusive young coxcomb, " I
perceive you are not fond of dogs."
"No," answered Foote, "nor of puppies
either."
— ^AAA'^-
"POOTE being one day at a coffee-house,
and seeing a gentleman of whom he had
but a slight knowledge, took the opportunity
after some long conversation to beg the
gentleman would be so obliging as to lend
him five guineas, as he was much distressed
for that sum. The gentleman replied, " I
don't know you."
" That was the only reason for my request,"
said Foote, "for if you did know me, I 'm sure
you would not."
Samuel Foote.
77
\A/'HEN Lord Chesterfield's Letters to his
Son first came out, a gentleman asked
Foote whether they did not contain great
knowledge of the world.
" Oh yes, sir," answered he, " very much so ;
for they inculcate bad morals— and the manner's
of a dancing master."
— V\/\/\/v—
"POOTE frequently attended Macklin's lec-
tures with, it is to be feared, the main
object of making fun out of the speaker. On
one occasion the subject Macklin was discussing
at somewhat inordinate length was " DueUing
in Ireland." The people were
manifestly getting tired, and
the lecturer had only got then
so far as the reign of Queen
Elizabeth, when Foote inti-
mated that he wished to ask a
question.
"Well, sir," said Macklin,
" what have you to say on this
subject ? "
" I think, sir," said Foote,
' ' this matter might be settled
in a few words. What o'clock
is it, sir ? '
Macklin could not possibly see what the
clock had to do with a dissertation on duelling,
78 Bon-Mots.
but gruffly answered that the hour was half-
past nine.
"Very well, sir," said Foote, "about this
time of the night every gentleman in Ireland
that can possibly be is in his third bottle of
claret, and therefore in a fair way of getting
drunk ; and from drunkenness proceeds
quarrelling, and from quarrelling duelling,
and so there 's an end to the chapter,"
— N/WVv—
"POOTE being at supper one night at the
Bedford coffee-house just after Garrick
had performed Macbeth, the conversation very
naturally turned on the merits of that great
performer. After many eulogiums had been
passed, it was generally allowed that he was
the greatest actor on the stage.
" Indeed, gentlemen," said Foote, " I do not
think you have said above ^a//" enough of him ;
for I think him not only the greatest actor on,
but also the greatest actor offlhii stage."
A N Irish fortune-hunter at Bath told Foote
that he had got an excellent phaeton on
a new plan.
" I am rather of opinion," answered Foote,
' ' that you have got it on the old plan ; for
I suspect you never intend to pay for it."
Samuel Foote. 79
COON after Savigny (who had been a cutler)
appeared at Covent Garden Theatre in
Barbarossa, Lady Harrington observed to
Foote that he was really very cutting.
"Oh! dear madam," answered Foote, "I
am not much surprised at that, — consider, he
is a razor grinder."
-^Ajyv- —
A CERTAIN baronet who was very vain of
his title had in early life practised as a
physician in the West Indies. Foote accosted
him one day as Doctor Grant, and repeatedly
used the title Doctor in his conversation. At
length the baronet's patience was exhausted,
and he exclaimed warmly, " I am no doctor."
'•No, faith!" replied Foote readily, "nor
ever zvere"
"T^HE Duke of Cumberland was dining with
Foote when a Mr Reynolds was of the
company,
" So, Mr Reynolds," said the duke, " I find
you are intimate with Mr Wilkes. Pray, what
time does he go to bed ? what time does he
rise?"
Several equally important questions followed,
when Foote broke in, saying, "Your highness
will please to remember that Mr Reynolds is
Wilkes's a//w;?^i', not his chamberlain."
8o Bon-Mots.
A RAGGED fellow was boasting of the
antiquity of his family and of what arms
they bore.
"Very likely you may have a coat of arms,"
said Foote, "but I see you have hardly got
arms to your coat."
— ^A/VVv —
■pOOTE was one day asked how it happened
that the highest places and more remarkable
appointments were not given by
Government to persons who ex-
celled in knowledge and judg-
ment; but commonly to those
who are deficient in those points.
He replied, somewhat drily, " It
is an established custom, which
promises never to be forgotten, to lay the
heaviest loads on asses, not men."
VXT'HEN Doctor Arne produced an opera,
The Rose, at Covent Garden Theatre,
it was hissed off the stage the first night.
Foote, on leaving the theatre, was asked by an
acquaintance what he thought of it.
"Well, bating the piety oi it, I must confess
I never saw a piece so justly damned in my
life."
Samuel Foote. 8i
A LADY'S age happening to be questioned,
she affirmed that she was but forty, and
turning to Foote asked, ''Sir, do you beHeve I
am right when I say I am but forty ? "
" I am sure, madam," answered Foote, " I
ought not to dispute it ; for I have constantly
heard you say so for above ten years."
— A/vVv^-
T:700TE, seeing an Irish gentleman superbly
dressed just after he had taken the benefit
of the Insolvent Act, said, " Throw an Irishman
into the Thames, naked at low water, and he
will come up with the tide at Westminster
Bridge, with a laced coat and a sword on."
— wwv^-
r\N being gravely asked by a politician what
he thought of the three Georges, Foote
replied, "George the Wise, George the Prudent,
and George the Unfortunate — But George, tAe
best of the Bunch, what my own George (his
son) will be old Daddy Time must develop."
f\i^ his way to pay his respects at St James's
Palace Foote was offered a place by " a
lady of quality " in her carriage.
" Excuse me, madam," answered he, " I did
not come to court for a place."
82 Bon-Mots.
IPOOTE one day told a miser that he must
be exceedingly happy in being free from
two dreadful plagues that tormented many
thousands.
" What plagues are these ? " asked the sordid
one.
" Why a smoky house and a scoldi?ig ivife,"
answered the wit; "for the dread of matri-
monial expenses hath kept you unmarried, and
your antipathy to the dressing of food renders
fires in your house unnecessary."
"POOTE and some friends were invited by a
notorious old miserly man to see his statue,
which he had just had done in marble. Foote,
on being asked if he thought it like the original,
answered meaningly, "Oh, yes, very like —
body and soul, egad ! "
-^A/\/w—
A
N inhabitant of Bristol dining one day with
Foote, expatiated so loudly and so long
upon the beauties of that city that the wit
became soon tired of his companion. Among
other things, the Bristolian remarked that in
the city of Bristol there was a prodigious
number of hogs.
"I'm sensible of that," said P^oote, "but
the worst of it is, that to kill 'em is death by
the law."
Samuel Foote.
83
■pOOTE wrote a pamphlet history of the
murder of one of his uncles by another,
and it is said that on the day on which he took
the manuscript to the bookseller in the Old
Bailey, such was his need that he was obliged
to wear his boots
without stockings,
and, on his receiv-
ing his ten pounds,
he purchased a pair
at a hosier's in Fleet
Street. On coming
out of the shop he
was recognised by
two of his Univer-
sity associates, who
bore him off to
dinner at the Bed-
ford coffee - house.
As the wine passed
round the state of Foote' s wardrobe came
within view, and he was asked what the deuce
had become of his stockings.
''Why," answered Foote, quite unembar-
rassed, " I never wear any at this time of the
year, till I dress for the evening ; and, you
see," pulling his purchase out of his pocket,
and silencing the laugh of his friends, " I
am always provided with a pair for the
occasion."
84 Bon-Mots.
A GENTLEMAN recently married told
Foote he had that morning laid out
three thousand pounds in jewels for his dear
zvife.
" Faith, sir," said Foote, " I see you are no
hypocrite, for she is truly your dear wife."
—j^i\[\l\r^ —
■^^HEN told that he would die " by inches,"
Foote merely said he was thankful that
he was not a tall man.
— N\[\[\f —
/■~^NE of the admirals, after the first day of a
grand naval review at Portsmouth, asked
Foote if the profusion of fire and smoke did
not give him an idea of hell.
"Yes, indeed it did," replied the wit,
"especially when I observed your lordship
in the midst of it."
"AN able magistrate," according to Foote,
"should have all the properties of a
thorough-bred hound ; should be a good
finder, a staunch pursuer, and a keen killer ;
for the great duty of a judge is to punish, and
he is never so well pleased as when doing his
duty.'''
Samuel Foote. 85
"pOOTE was standing one day, in a pensive
attitude, in the kitchen garden of Carlton
House, when he was observed by a gentleman
at a window, who immediately said to Parson
Foote (the wit's brother), "What the devil is
Sam doing yonder among the cabbages ? "
"Let's go and see," said the parson. Ac-
cordingly, these two gentlemen with some ladies
went out to the garden where the wit stood.
"What are you doing there, Mr Foote?"
asked one of the ladies,
"Why, madam," replied he, "I'm in
raptures 1 "
" In raptures ! " said the lady, " with what?"
"With a cabbage stalk," added Foote, and
immediately began the following dissertation
upon it : —
"A cabbage stalk, ladies and gentlemen;
what shall I say of a cabbage stalk ? The first
part of it to be considered is the root; for,
without the root, nothing can be said on the
matter. Well, then, the root ! — observe the
root, ladies. See the numerous filaments by
which it receives its nurture. Were ye, ladies,
but as deeply rooted in love, your fruits might
be as answerable. But, to speak in general
terms, were we but as deeply rooted in mutual
friendship, our fruits would be as estimable.
But, on the contrary, we had rather vegetate
in a vicious soil, and on avarice, which is the
86 Bon-Mots.
root of all evil, and graft the whole fraternity
of vices.
" There is another reason, ladies and gentle-
men, why I begin with the root of this cabbage ;
because it represents the exordium of a dis-
course ; the stock is the ratiocination, or argu-
mentative part, and the head is the conclusion.
"The root of this cabbage I shall compare
to the King— because, you see,
as all power and honour are
derived ultimately from His Ma-
jesty, so the stalk and head of this
same cabbage derive as ultimately
their existence from the root.
And, d'ye see, as this stalk and
this head are reciprocally an
honour to the root,— so His Majesty is indebted
to his subjects for his wealth, his power, and his
magnificence.
"The root, I say, is the King; — and the
stalk, then, shall be the nobility and gentry. —
And, let me see, what shall be the head of the
cabbage? — Why, the common people; — ay,
the common people are the head of the nation.
" Hey ? — what ? — Ay ! — I 'm right in my logic,
surely. — This cabbage stalk is hollow ; and how-
many human cabbage stalks are there in this
vast garden, the world — Hey ? How may hypo-
crites ? — This stalk was once of a lovely green,
and full of sap, but now dried and withered. —
And what is the fate of man but that of a cab-
Samuel Foote. 87
bage stalk? — Nay, my little preaching puppy
of a brother here, who stands by me, must, if
he wishes to display his oratorical powers, ac-
tually imagine that his hearers are all cabbage
stalks ! It will be then that soft persuasion,
like Hyblean honey, will flow from his lips ;
then that the blaze of eloquence will warm his
audience ; — then — but, by Jupiter, 'tis dinner
time — my reflections are over — so there is an
end of my dissertation on a cabbage stalk."
—^A/\/V. —
pOOTE, riding in Hyde Park, met the Duke
of Cumberland, who accosted him with
"Well, Foote, have you anything new to-
day?"
"Yes, and please your highness (clapping
his hand on his knee) a J>air of buckskin
breeches. "
—■^N\t\N—
A YOUNG gentleman making an apology to
his father for coming in late to dinner,
said, '' that he had been visiting a poor friend
of his in St George's Fields."
"A pretty kind of friend, indeed," said the
father, " to keep us waiting in this manner."
" Ay, and of the best kind, too," said Foote ;
" as you know, my dear sir, afrieiid in need is
a friend indeed."
88 Bon-Mots.
A/TR DAVENPORT, a tailor who had
acquired a large fortune, asked Foote
for a motto for his coach.
" Latin or English? " asked the wit.
" Poh ! English to be sure, — I don't want to
set up for a scholar."
"Then I've got one from Hamlet Xh^iX will
match you to a button-hole — '•List! list! oh,
list!'''
•yALKING of Garrick, Foote said that he
always remembered Davy living in Dur-
ham Yard, with three quarts of vinegar in the
cellar, and calling himself a wine merchant.
■pOOTE being annoyed by a poor fiddler
straining harsh discord under his window,
sent him out a shilling with a request that he
would play elsewhere, as one scraper at tlie door
was sufificient.
— N\J\J\fs, —
/^NE of the actors coming up to Foote in the
green-room with a long face, said he had
just heard that Doctor Kenrick was going to
give a public critique on his last new comedy
of The Cozeners at Marybone Gardens.
"Is he so?" said Foote. "Well, let the
Doctor take care of the fate of our first parents,
a fall in the garden."
90 Bon-Mots.
COMEONE speaking of a very formal man,
said in his defence that, "notwithstanding
his stiffness there were times when he could
be very familiar."
"Yes," said Foote, "but then it is ■^ full
dress fa in ilia rity. ' '
— "AAJW—
A N officer, a notorious gambler, said to
Foote, "Since I last saw you, I have losi
an eye."
"I am sorry for it," said Foote; "pray^/
zohat game f"
C AID a lady to Foote, " I hear that you can
make a pun on any subject ; make one on
the King."
"Madam," he immediately replied, "the
King is no subject."
— 'AA/v^
pOOTE and Garrick being at a tavern to-
gether at the time of the first regulation
of the gold coin, the former pulling out his
purse to pay the reckoning, asked his friend
"what he should do with a light guinea he
had?"
" Pshaw ! 'tis worth nothing," said Garrick,
" fling it to the devil."
"Well, David," said Foote, " you are what
I always took you for, ever contriving to make
a guinea go farther than any other man."
Samuel Foote. 91
T) EING asked to translate a physician's motto,
which was, "A nuniine salus,'^ Foote
quickly replied, " God help the patient !"
— WVW —
AT a nobleman's house, as soon as dinner
was over, his lordship ordered a bottle of
Cape wine to be set on the table. After mag-
nifying its good qualities, and in particular its
age, he sent it round the table in glasses that
scarcely held a thimbleful.
"Fine wine, upon my soul," said Foote,
tasting, and smacking his lips.
"Is it not very curious?" said his lordship.
" Perfectly so," answered Foote, "indeed, I
do not remember to have seen anything so
little of its age in my life before."
"pOOTE was about to take a boat at White-
hall stairs when he asked the boatmen,
' ' Who can swim ? " .
"I, master," shouted forty of the men,
while one went slinking away. Foote called
after him, but the fellow, turning around, said,
" Sir, I cannot swim."
" Then you are my man," said the wit, "for
you will at least take care of me for your own
sake."
92
Bon-Mots.
^^NE day Foote was taken into Foote's coffee
house by a friend who wished to write a
note. The wit, standing in a room among
strangers, did not seem
quite at his ease, so Lord
Carmarthen, wishing to re-
lieve his embarrassment,
came up to speak to him.
But Carmarthen himself
r'\Cs^^^^^^ feeling a little shy of ad-
"* ' ■ dressing a man whom he
hardly knew, merely stam-
mered out, ' ' Mr Foote,
your handkerchief is hang-
ing out of your pocket."
Upon which Foote looked
suspiciously round, thrust
the handkerchief back in
his pocket, and replied,
"Thank you, my Lord, you know the com-
pany so much better than I do."
— a/WVa —
"pOOTEwhen a boy was chided by an elderly
lady ( ' ' with a remarkably red carbuncle
face") for some fault. He denied it, but
coloured at the accusation.
"Nay," said the lady, "I am sure it must
be true, for you blush."
" Pardon me, madam," said he, "that is only
the reflection of your face."
Samuel Foote. 93
A SPENDTHRIFT being sold up, Foote,
who attended the sale every day, bought
nothing but a pillow, on which he was asked,
"What particular use he could have for a
single pillow ? "
"Why," said he, " I do not sleep very well
at night, and I am sure that this must give me
many a good nap, when the proprietor of it —
though he oived so much — could sleep upon it."
—J\!\l\l\r- —
A LADY having observed in the hearing of
Foote that the King had round shoulders,
"No wonder, madam," said he, "for His
Majesty, you know, has the burthen of three
kingdoms on them."
COMEONE asking Foote what had become
of Dr Johnson, he replied that he had
been for some time a rambler, he next turned
idler, and at last dwindled into a spreader of
false alarms.
-^A/\/\jv—
A CLERGYMAN, "a very dirty fellow,"
was boasting in Foote's company of his
agricultural labours.
"Oh, it's easy to see that, sir," said Foote ;
" you keep your glebe in your own hands."
94 Bon-Mots.
C AID the one-legged Sam Foote to a person
who rallied him on his wooden limb —
" Why do you attack me on my weakest part ?
Did I ever say anything against your head ? "
— v\/w^-
COME one told Foote that the Rockingham
Ministry were at their wits' end, and quite
tired out. " It could not have been with the
journey," he said.
— 'A/\/\f^r—
A PLAYER once complaining to Foote that
his wife's drunkenness and ill-conduct
had almost ruined him, concluded with a
phrase he was in the habit of using, " and for
goodness' sake, sir, what is to be said for it?"
"Nothing that I know," said Foote, "can
be said /or it ; but a devilish deal may be said
agai?i5t it."
/^N his return from Scotland, a lady enquired
of Foote if there were any truth in the
report of there being no trees in that country.
He replied, somewhat maliciously: — "No,
indeed ; for, when crossing from Port Patrick
to Donaghadee, I saw two blackbirds perched
on as fine a thistle as ever I beheld."
Samuel Foote.
95
A LADY had been discussing some religious
question with Foote, and suddenly turn-
ing on him, asked, "Pray,. Mr Foote, do you
ever go to church ? "
"No, madam," answered he, "not that I
see any harm in it."
—^A/VV''^
VyHEN Foote, in bad health, was on his
way to France for change of air, he
went into the kitchen at the inn at Dover to
order a particular dish
which he fancied for
dinner. The true Eng-
lish cook boasted that
she had never set foot
out of the country.
"Why, cookey, that 's
very extraordinary,"
said Foote, " as they
tell me upstairs that
you have been several
times all over grease !"
' ' They may tell you
what they please, above
or below stairs," replied
the cook, " but I was
never ten miles from Dover in my life ! "
" Nay, now that mz/sl be a fib," said Foote ;
" for I have myself seen you at Spit-head!"
The next day (October 21, 1777) the wit died.
96 Bon-Mots.
" TTERE have I," said Foote, dining with
Sir Francis Delaval, " been seven days
together dining with him on a greasy loin of
pork. What he can have meant by it I don't
know ; except he means to run his pork against
The Beggars Opera.'''
"What, Foote ! " exclaimed Sir Francis, "at
my loin of pork still? "
" No," retorted he, unabashed, "your loins
of pork have been at me, and if you don't take
them off, in another week I suppose I shall be
as full of bristles as Peter the wild man."
"POOTE, according to Dibdin, had a most
contemptible opinion of Garrick's literary
abilities. He once received an anonymous
letter which pointed out to him a certain play
as an excellent subject for his theatre. He
mentioned the circumstance to a nobleman who
happened to be that evening behind the scenes ;
adding that he should be particularly happy
to know the author, as it was incomparably
written ; for among other traits there were
many quotations that spoke a perfect know-
ledge of the Grecian and Roman theatres, and
much sound classical reading.
" I think I can guess at him," said his lord-
ship.
" Can you, my lord," said Foote, '' I wish I
could."
Samuel Foote. 97
" What do you think of Garrick ? "
" Oh, no, my lord," answered the wit, " I am
sure it is not Garrick."
" Why?" returned his lordship.
"I shall answer you," said Foote, "like
Scrub. First, then, I am sure it is not Garrick
because there is Greek in it ; secondly, I am
sure it is not Garrick because there is Latin in
it ; and thirdly, I am sure it is not Garrick be-
cause there is English in it."
—j^!\l\!\r^—
VyHILE at Edinburgh, Foote was urged to
give an example of his powers of mimicry
by taking off Wilkes, who was at that time as
obnoxious in Scotland as he was popular in
England.
"No, thank you," answered the wit, "fori
intend to take myself off to London in a few
days, and do not desire to sup on brickbats and
rotten eggs on the first night of my arrival in
the metropolis."
— aA/VNa—
■pJAVING been in company with a certain
celebrated baronet from the Principality,
who was remarkably corpulent, Foote was
asked what he thought of him.
"Oh! a true Welshman," said he, "all
mountainous and barren"
G
98 Bon-Mots,
"\!\/"HEN it was announced that Foote was
about to open the Haymarket Theatre,
he said that he was apphed to by all kinds of
persons anxious to try their
fortunes on the stage, and wish-
ing him to give them engage-
ments. One lady who waited
upon him he catechised thus —
'* Pray, madam, are you for
tragedy or comedy ? "
No answer.
" Are you a veteran, or is it your first
attempt?"
Still no reply.
" H'm ! are you married, madam?"
At length, says Foote, she spoke — "Pray,
sir, speak a little louder, /or I am deaf!'''
"DEING asked by a talkative barber how he
would be shaved, Foote promptly replied,
" In silence."
— j^t\j\i\f^ —
r^ ARRICK so delighted in flattery, according
to Foote, that though you crammed him
with a dose of it large as St Paul's, he would
be instantly ready to swallow another big as the
Monument.
Samuel Foote. 99
'"PHE rubicund-faced Lord Kellie came into a
gathering where Foote was present, on a
hot summer night, dressed in a somewhat tar-
nished suit of laced clothes. The servant
announced " Lord Kellie ! "
" Lord Kellie ! " repeated Foote, looking him
full in the face at the same time, " I thought it
was all Monmouth Street inflames."
— "A/X/Vv —
"POOTE was intended for one of the large
party who witnessed the performance of
some noble amateurs, of whom Sir Francis
Delaval was the chief, who brought out Othello
at Garrick's Theatre. The wit, however, either
from accident or design, did not attend until
the play was finished, and then entered the
great green-room as the company were taking
refreshments.
" Oh ! Foote, where have you been ? What
you have lost ! such a play you '11 never have
another opportunity of seeing! " was the gen-
eral buzz from one end of the room to the
other. To all this the wit bowed contrition,
disappointment, and so forth; when slily
approaching the place where Garrick sat, he
asked him, in a whisper loud enough to be
heard by the whole company, "What he
seriously thought of it ? "
"Think of it," said Garrick, equally wishful
loo Bon-Mots.
to be heard, "why, that I never suffered so
much in my whole Hfe ! "
"What! for the atithorf I thought so.
Alas ! poor Shakespeare ! "
The company not being prepared for this
stroke, the laugh was unanimous against
Garrick ; which Sir Francis joined in with as
much good humour as if he was not at all
affected by the sarcasm.
— ^AAA'^--
A DULL dramatic writer, who had often felt
the severity of the public, was complaining
one day to Foote of the injustice done him by
the critics ; " I have, however," he added, " one
way of being even with them ; which is by con-
stantly laughing at all they say against me."
"You do perfectly right, my friend," said
Foote, " for by this method you will not only
disappoint your enemies, but lead the merriest
life of any man in England."
—J\!\f\!V^—
'Y^HEN he was dining with a friend at Mer-
chant Taylors' Hall, on one occasion,
Foote enjoyed himself so thoroughly that he
sat until the company were much thinned.
Suddenly he rose, and with great gravity
took leave by saying, " Gentlemen, I wish you
both good-night."
Samuel Foote. loi
" Both ! " echoed one of the company ; " why
Foote, are you drunk ? here are nearly a score
of us left ! "
"Oh! yes," said the wit, "I know that, —
there are just eighteen ; but as nine tailors only
make a man, I wish to be correct ; therefore, as
I said before, gentlemen, I wish you doiA good-
night."
— wwna —
A YOUNG member of Parhament having
made a long declamatory speech, his
uncle asked Foote "how he liked it? and
whether he did not think posterity
would speak well of it ? "
"Oh, no doubt, no doubt,"
said he, wishing to get rid of the
subject.
"Well," continued the other
pertinaciously, " but what do you
think they will say ? "
"Will say?" returned Foote, pausing,
"why, they must say, if they do the young
gentleman justice, that he once flourished in
Parliament"
— WWv—
'TALKING of Irish bulls, Foote suggested
a happy one when he supposed that
" Phelim O' Flanagan for the murder of his
wife was found guilty of manslaughter.
I02 Bon-Mots.
T T being observed by a lady how much better
one of their acquaintance, who had been
raised from a humble situation, looked than
she did a dozen years before,
"Very true," said Foote, "but consider the
education of her face since that time."
— fj\[\l\h —
TITAVING been asked his opinion of
Churchill, the poet, Foote immediately
said that Lilly, the grammarian, had already
given his character in one line with great
accuracy —
" Bifrons, atque custos ; bos, fur, sus, atque sacerdos."
A WRITER was boasting that as reviewer,
he had the power of distributing literary
reputation as he liked.
' ' Take care, ' said Foote to him warningly,
' ' take care you are not too prodigal of that, or
you may leave none for yourself."
— v\/\/Vv—
UGH KELLY (the author of False
Delicacy, &c.) was dining with Foote
one day, and being surprised at the smallness
of his library, exclaimed, "Why, hey day! I
have got almost as many books myself."
' Perhaps you have, sir," retorted Foote,
" But consider, you read all that you iv)-ife."
H
Samuel Foote. 103
A WELL-KNOWN epicure having bought
a Hbrary, someone was saying that they
wondered what he could do with it, as he was
well-known to prefer a good fable to all the
books in the world.
" It may be for that reason he has bought
them," said Foote, "for the table of Conietifs."
COME one of his acquaintance was telling
Foote that he had just purchased a house
which he thought a good bargain, though he
doubted, from its being so old, whether it would
stand out the lease.
' ' What sort of next door neighbours have
you?" demanded the wit.
"Why, what have my next door neighbours
to do with my house ? "
' ' More than you seem aware of ; for by your
own account, a great deal of your safety
depends upon their being good honsQ-holders."
—'A/\/V^—
■pOOTE, as many stories show, lost no
opportunity of making fun out of Garrick's
parsimony. After rehearsals, when he was the
dehght of the green-room for the sallies of his
wit and humour, he would frequently say,
" Bless me ! here we have been laughing away
our time, and 'tis now past four o'clock
[04
Bon-Mots.
without ever thinking of dinner. Garrick,
have you enough for a third, without infringing
on your servants' generosity— as I know they
are all upon board wages?"
Garrick, rather embarrassed, would say,
"Why, hey, now, Sam ; if, if you are really seri-
ous, and not engaged, and
would finish our laugh in
Southampton Street, I dare
say Mrs Garrick would find
a chair for you."
' ' Oh ! don't let me break
in upon her generosity. If
the kitchen fire should be
out, or this is a cold- meat
day, or one of her fast
days, I can pop into a
coffee-house ; though, I
must confess, the want of
Mrs Garrick' s company
must make every place a
desert."
Garrick generally forced
a laugh upon these occasions, but was always
glad to purchase a truce at the expense of a
dinner.
— WVVv —
PREVIOUSLY to Foote's bringing out his
Pri?nitive Pvppet Show at the Haymarket
Theatre, he enjoined all his performers, car-
Samuel Foote. 105
penters, scene-shifters and others, to keep it a
profound secret ; only to insinuate that some-
thing was in preparation that would much
surprise the town from its novelty.
Garrick, among others, heard of this ; and as
he was always "tremblingly alive " to everything
that might operate against his fame and profits,
he took several circuitous ways to find out the
nature of the design, but in vain. Foote kept
him on the torture of expectation for some time ;
till, being very nearly ready for exhibition, he
determined to have the laugh against him, once
for all. He accordingly intimated " that if he
would dine with him on such a day, he should
be let into the secret."
Garrick readily obeyed the summons, and a
convivial party was likewise gathered together
by Foote to share in the merriment of the plot.
After dinner, Foote said very gravely, " that
the secret he had hitherto kept so very profound
was, a performer he had to introduce of such
rare and singular talents, that except himself,"
bowing to Garrick, "he did not believe there
was a man of near such merit on any theatre in
Europe."
" Eh, eh ! " said Garrick, much confused,
' ' where does he come from ? what is his name ? "
'^ Birch," said the other, "a very near
relation of your old friend Dr Birch. He's
now in the next room. Will you have a speci-
men of his abilities ? "
io6 Bon -Mots.
"Why, hey, now, if I did not think it would
dash the young man's spirits, I, I should like
it above all things."
"Oh! if that be all. Here, John, introduce
the young gentleman, I '11 be answerable for
his spirits ; as you '11 find him to be bred in the
true school of Socrates, and that he has learnt
to consider his audience as so many cabbage
stalks,"
At this moment, John, who previously had
his cue, introduced a large figure of Punch !
" Eh ! " said Garrick, " what, now I under-
stand. Oh ! a puppet show ! Well, but what
is your hero to do ? is he to be a mere comical
fellow, or a mimic, or what? "
"Why, what the deuce, David, surely you
are not already jealous of poor Punch ? Come,
John, part the rivals, or we shall have some
noble blood spilt on the occasion."
Here the laugh was unanimously against
Garrick ; who was, however, very glad to be
eased of his fears at the expense of a little
ridicule.
A CLERGYMAN having taken exception to
one of Foote's performances, "and by
' authority ' too," the wit retorted that it was
" by authority," for "a religion turned into a
farce is, by the constitution of this country, the
only species of the drama that may be exhibited
for money without permission."
io8 Bon-Mots.
/^N a further occasion, Foote said that
"Garrick loved money so well, that
should he ever retire from his profession, he
would commence banker's clerk, for the mere
pleasure of counting over the cash ; and as for
the stage, he was so fond of it, that rather than
not play at all, he would act before the kitchen
fire at the ' Shakespeare ' for a sop in the
pan.
■pOOTE had a brothei, a quiet clergyman,
generally unbeneficed. Samuel allowed
him sixty pounds a year and " the run of his
house and theatre." This man, having nothing
to do, was constantly gossiping in the green-
room, where the Duke of Cumberland once
observing him asked who he was.
" What, that little man in the shabby black
coat just gone out ? ' ' said Foote. " Oh ! that 's
my barber."
Some little time after by accident the Duke
found out that instead of his barber he was his
brother; and challenged him about it the
first time he saw him.
"Why, what could I do with the fellow?"
said Foote, " I could not say he was a brother-
wit ; and as I could not disclaim all relation-
ship with him, I was obliged to make him out
a brother-shaver."
Samuel Foote. 109
A N attorney of a very bad character having
a dispute with a bailiff, the latter brought
an action against him, which Foote recom-
mended to be compromised. The parties at
length agreed ; but requested that in case of a
difference in arbitration, they might be per-
mitted to call upon him to decide.
"Oh ! no," said Foote, " I may be partial
to one or other of you — but I '11 do better, I '11
recommend a thief as the common friend of
both:'
— vV\A^^-
■QR PAUL HIFFERMAN, an impecunious
author, frequently attendant upon Foote,
was one day relating some circumstance as a
fact; and by way of corroboration, said he
would pawn his soul upon it.
"Aye, that you may," said Foote, "and
your watch too. Doctor, which at present is of
more value to you ; and yet I must question the
veracity of what you tell me."
—^■'hj\}\r~'—
tlJ IFFERMAN was fond of offering wagers.
In the heat of argument one day he
cried out, " I '11 lay my head you are wrong
upon that point."
" Well," said Foote, " I accept the wager ;
any trifle among friends has a value."
Bon-Mots.
II7OOTE was walking about his own grounds
at North End, one morning, with a friend,
when they spied, dashing to-
wards them on the Fulham
Road, two persons in one of
the very high phaetons then
recently in fashion.
"Is not that Moody," said
he, ' ' in that strange thrcc-pair-
of-siairs phaeton ? "
"Yes," said his friend,
. s. " and Johnson the stockbroker
\jm with him, and yet I wonder
Tjl how he can leave his business,
ill for I think this is no holiday."
" Why, no," said Foote,
I think not? except they
choose to call this ascension c/av."
^A/W^-
A YOUNG man of fashion was complaining
to Foote that he had lost a large sum of
money at the gaming table the night before ;
and, what was more extraordinary, that he lost
it upon twelve casts of a die successively.
" Not at all extraordinary," said Foote,
' ' Shakespeare has explained the cause many
years ago — ' The earth hath bubbles, as the
water hath ! ' "
Samuel Foote. 1 1 1
A WEALTHY city man dining one day at
Foote's house, was every now and then
boasting, with all the insolence of prosperity, of
his many thousands in the funds, his capital in
trade, mortgages, annuities, &c., when Foote
cut him short by saying, ' ' he was very sorry
for the circumstance."
"What!" exclaimed the guest, "do you
envy me my prosperity?"
" No, my good sir," said the other, " but you
talk so much of your riches, I am afraid the
company will think joii are going to break."
— WVW—
lyi R and Mrs Barry drew such crowds to the
Opera House in the Haymarket one
season, that the following one Foote engaged
them to play in his little theatre. His friends
expressed surprise that he should pay such high
prices as they required for tragedy at his house.
"Why, to tell you the truth," he replied,
' ' I have no great occasion for them ; but they
were such bad neighbours last year, that I find
it cheaper to give them board and lodging for
nothing, than to have them any longer opposite
to t?ie."
— wwv^
"POOTE, who possessed all qualities of
humour, would not always let truth stand
in the way of his joke. One day, after dinner,
112 Bon-Mots.
he apologised to his company for not giving
them pine-apples in the dessert, "but," added
he, " that confounded fellow of a next-door
neighbour of mine comes over the garden-wall
at night, and steals all my pines."
' ' What ! my Lord B. 's brother ? "
" Yes, no less a man, I assure you ; and I
have got his great toe in my man-trap at this
instant."
*' Oh ! it is impossible," exclaimed the com-
pany, "you are surely humming us."
"Nay, I will convince you of it in a
moment."
Here he called up the gardener ; and turning
to him with great gravity, asked him what he
had done with the Honourable Mr B.'s great-
toe.
" The toe, sir ? " said the gardener, not being
at first prepared for the question.
"Yes, the toe which you found in my man-
trap this morning."
"Oh, yes, sir, the toe," catching the joke,
' ' why to tell you, sir, I threw it out about an
hour ago."
"You should not have done that," said
one of the company, taking the story as
a fact, "you should have kept it to expose
him."
" No, no," said the wit, " 'tis better as it is ;
consider how the keeping of such a toe must
have disgraced a Foote,"
Samuel Foote. 113
"POOTE was calling upon a barrister friend
who did not live happily with his wife ;
the servant maid, soon after his
arrival, came into the room to
look for her mistress.
"What do you want your
mistress for?" enquired the
barrister.
' ' Why, indeed, sir, to tell you
the truth, she scolds me so from
morning to night, I come to give
her warning."
'' What, then you mean to leave us ? "
" Certainly, sir," said she.
"Happy girl!" exclaimed Foote, "I most
sincerely wish your poor master could give
warning too."
—'Af\f\{v—
/^N the morning before Foote set out on his
last journey to Dover, an old performer
belonging to the Haymarket Theatre called to
take leave of him.
"Well," said Foote, "what's the matter
with you this morning, you look so ruefully?"
"Why, I don't know how it is, but I find
I 'm not 7nyself\.o-ddiY."
" No ! then I heartily wish you joy ;
for though I don't know who you are now,
you must certainly be a gainer by the
change."
H
114 Bon-Mots.
A GENTLEMAN having lost his money at
a faro-bank, where he suspected the lady
of the house, communicated his suspicions to
Foote, who comforted him by saying, ' ' That he
might depend upon it — it was all/«/r play."
— A/WV" —
" T F there be anything which Providence
could be supposed to be ignorant of, it
is the eue7it of a Chancery sjiil."
— •Af\/\J\r—
A FARCE was defined by Foote as " a sort of
hodge-podge dressed by a Gothic cook,
where the mangled limbs of probability,
common-sense, and decency are served up to
gratify the voracious cravings of the most
depraved appetites."
— M/VW—
COME Methodist preacher having written a
pamphlet against Foote's piece called the
Minor, concluded it with some verses describing
a place where saints shall enjoy
" Eternal rest, an active, blissful state,
Joys ever new, transporting ever great."
" I hope, sir," said Foote, " in this paradise
of your own manufacture, you will allow your
saints, after their ' active rest,'' a sup of dry
Samuel Foote. 115
drink, and let them just take a rvaking nap,
by way of a little fatiguing refreshment. The
climax, too, is extremely happy ; joys, not only
' tninsp07-ting, ' but ' great / "
— W\Av—
'X'HE same pamphleteer wrote of a place
where there would be not only patriarchs,
apostles, and martyrs, but Whitfield as well.
"This puts me in mind," says Foote, " of what
happened at a certain place, in summing up
the evidence against a libeller of the revolution.
' The prisoner has dared, gentlemen, to vilify
even the revolution, gentlemen ; a measure,
gentlemen, visibly begun, conducted and com-
pleted by the peculiar interposition of divine
Providence ; and not only that, gentlemen,
but confirmed by Act of Parliatnent,' "
I
^
THEODORE HOOK.
BON-MOTS
THEODORE HOOK.
—^A/\/Vv—
/^N one occasion, while Hook was improvis-
ing at the piano, Sir David Wilkie came
quietly into the room, making his salutation
in a whisper, lest he should disturb the singer,
who was so far from being disconcerted that
he immediately introduced the new-comer to
the company as
*' My worthy friend, douce Davy Wilkie,
Who needn't speak so soft and silky,"
since his entrance, instead of interrupting him,
had supplied him with another verse. A
minute or two later a particle of candle-wick
fell upon the arm of a young lady, an incident
120 Bon-Mots.
which Hook instantly seized by addressing the
lady, and declaring that it excited no surprise
in him whatever —
" Since he knew very well, by his former remarks,
That wherever she went she attracted the sparks."
— a/WNa —
"'T'HEY well-nigh stun one," said Hook in
reference to the Duke of Darmstadt's
brass band at a morning concert, "with those
terrible wind instruments, which roar away in
defiance of all rule, except that which Hoyle
addresses to young whist players when in doubt
— trump it .'"
— 'A/\t\/v—
'X'HERE was a grand entertainment at Bel-
voir Castle on the coming of age of the
Marquis of Granby ; the company were going
out to see the fireworks, when Hook came to
the Duke of Rutland, and said, "Now, isn't
this provoking ! I 've lost my hat — what can I
do?"
"Why the devil," returned his grace, "did
you part with your hat ? — I never do.
"Ah!" rejoined the wit, "but you have
especially good reasons for sticking to your
Beaver." *
* Belvoir is so pronounced.
Theodore Hook. 121
A FTER Hook had improvised verses on the
names of nearly every one present on a
certain occasion, a friend thought he had
shirked one name — that of Mr Rosenagen —
and mentioned it. Hook immediately turned to
the piano and continued —
" Yet more of my Muse is required,
Alas ! I fear she is done ;
But no ! like a fiddler that 's tired,
I '11 Rosen-agen, and go on."
VyALKING one day with a friend in the
Strand, Hook had his attention directed
to a very pompous
gentleman who strut-
ted along as if the
street were his own.
Instantly leaving his
companion Hook
went up to the
stranger and said,
" I beg your pardon,
sir, but pray may I
ask — Are you anybody
in particular f" Be- ^^^
fore the astonished
pompous one could collect himself so as to
reply, verbally or physically, Hook had joined
his friend and passed on.
122 Bon-Mots.
'X'HE last time that Theodore Hook dined at
Amen Corner, he was unusually late, and
dinner was served before he made his appear-
ance. Mr Barham apologised for having sat
down without him, saying that they had quite
given him up, and had supposed " that the
weather had deterred him."
" Oh ! " said Hook, "I had determined to
come weather or no."
— wwv./^
U OOK said that Bentley had given an ominous
title to his new magazine — Miss-sell-any.
— WVW—
T ORD JOHN RUSSELL having married a
widow, Hook called him "the Widow's
Mite."
A FTER one of Hook's wonderful exhibitions
of improvising, a young fellow, anxious to
shine in the same way, tried his hand at it, but
soon broke down ; and while he was floundering
in the middle of a verse Hook gave him the
coup de grace with the following couplet, robbed
of all offence by the good-humoured smile
which went with it
" I see, sir, I see, sir, what 'tis that you 're hatching ;
But mocking, you see, sir, is not ahuays catching."
Theodore Hook. 123
'T'HEODORE HOOK once said to a man at
whose table a pubUsher got extremely
drunk, "Why, you appear to have emptied
your jvifie-cellar into your book-seller."
— ■\f\J\/V' —
T-JOOK, who was about to be proposed as a
member of the Phoenix Club, enquired
when they met.
" Every Saturday evening during the winter,"
was the answer,
"Evening ! Oh, then," said Hook, " I shall
never make a Phoenix, /c^r / can'i rise from the
fire."
—J\f\f\JV^—
A PARTY of labourers were busy sinking a
well, when Hook inquired of them what
they were about.
" Boring for water, sir," was the answer.
"Water's a bore at any time," responded
Hook ; " besides you 're quite wrong ; remember
the old proverb — let well alone."
— A/\/\/\r^ —
TJTOOK was dining at a friend's, when the
talk fell upon the funeral of Jack Reeve.
He was asked if he had been present,
" Yes," said he, " I was out that day — / 7/iel
him in his private box goifig to the pit /"
Theodore Hook.
:25
T_T OOK having been in a great measure forced
into a quarrel with one of his associates
in the Mauritius, a hostile meeting, terminat-
ing happily without bloodshed, was the con-
sequence. On the affair reaching the ears of
the Governor, he sent immediately for Mr Hook,
and having commented upon the offence in
terms somewhat more severe than the latter
deemed warrantable, told him that a repetition
of it would be visited with instant dismissal
from office, and with the infliction of such
further penalties as the law provided, "For,"
added the Governor, " I am determined, at all
cost, to put down duelling."
"But, sir," pleaded the delinquent, "con-
stituted as society is, there are occasions when
the vindication of one's character renders the
' Gothic appeal to arms ' as necessary as defence
of the person would do."
"Such occasions must be avoided," said the
Governor.
"But," continued Hood, "it is not always
in a man's power to avoid insult. Suppose for
example, a person were to address you yourself
publicly, and say that he thought you were
a meddling, impertinent upstart, — what course
would be left for you to pursue ? "
" I can't conceive such a case possible, sir,"
was the reply.
" Can't you, indeed?" replied Hook, " I can
—very — I wish you good morning,"
126 Bon-Mots.
'nrWO silly brothers, twins, who were very
much about town in Theodore Hook's
time, took pains, by dressing alike, to deceive
their friends as to their identity.
Tom Hill (the original of Paul Pry) was
expatiating upon these modern Dromios, at
which Hook grew impatient.
"Well, you will admit," said Hill, "that
they resemble each other wonderfully : they
are as like as two peas."
"They are," retorted Hook, "and quite as
green,"
— WWv —
O'
iBSERVING some wine cellars beneath a
chapel. Hook readily improvised the
following lines : —
" There 's a spirit above and a spirit below ;
A spirit of joy and a spirit of woe :
The spirit above is a spirit divine ;
But the spirit below is the spirit of — wine."
— 'A/Vw —
/^NE of Hook's daughters, who had just
attained her twenty-first year during his
last illness, came, accompanied by her sister
Louisa, to salute him on the morning of her
birthday. Turning to a friend who sat by the
bedside, Hook said, " People say that I am
fond of game, and I must own that I dearly
love Vingt-un and Loo."
Theodore Hook. 127
TLJOOK was once observed, during dinner,
nodding like a mandarin in a tea-shop.
On being asked the reason, he rephed, "Why,
when no one asks me to take champagne, I
take sherry with the epergne, and bow to the
flowers."
^A/vw —
'pHEODORE Hook entered at Oxford Uni-
versity, and was duly presented to the
Vice-Chancellor for matriculation,
which ceremony was well-nigh
stopped in consequence of a piece
of facetiousness on the part of the
candidate, who, on being asked if
he was prepared to subscribe to
the Thirty-nine Articles, answered — " Oh, cer-
tainly, sir, forty if you please."
— A/\/\JV. —
TJ OOK had not contributed any squibs to
the columns of /o/in Bull for some days,
when a representative of the paper, taking him
his salary as usual, entered the room saying —
" Have you heard the news? — the king and
queen of the Sandwich Islands are dead, and
we want something about them for the paper."
" Instantly," said Hook, "you shall have it —
" ' Waiter, two Sandwiches,' cried Death,
And their wild majesties resigned their breath."
128 Bon-Mots.
■\^HEN dining with the author of a work
called Three Words to the Drunkard,
Theodore Hook was asked to review it.
"Oh, my dear fellow, that I have done
already in three words — pass the bottle ! "
— ^A/\AA'—
'THEODORE Hook, meeting a friend just
after leaving the King's Bench prison,
was told that he was getting stouter.
"Yes," replied Hook, "I was enlarged to-
day."
— ^WV^^
EING told of the marriage of a political
opponent, Hook exclaimed, "I am very
glad to hear it." Then suddenly he added in
a compassionating voice, "And yet I don't know
why I should be, poor fellow, for he never did
me much harm."
A T one of Hook's symposia a dispute arose
about marine painting. An amateur who
was present maintained, in opposition to Hook,
that a boat might be a beautiful object in a
picture. Hook soon wearied of the subject,
and at length exclaimed, "We have had
enough of the boat — let go \h& painter."
B'
Theodore Hook. 129
A GENTLEMAN who had a faciUty for
shaping all manner of things out of
orange peel, was displaying his abilities at a
dinner, and succeeded to the admiration of the
company in making a model pig.
Another guest tried the same feat, and after
destroying many oranges and strewing the
table with peel, he exclaimed, " Hang the
pig ! — I can't make one."
" Nay," said Hook, glancing at the mess on
the table, "you have done more; instead of
one pig, you have made a litter."
— v\/\/Vj—
/^NE of young Theodore Hook's "wild
impulses" is thus described by Mrs
Mathews in her Anecdotes of Actors : —
Walking one day with a friend in Oxford
Street, he observed in the window of a petty
jeweller's shop a square black enamel, framed,
on which appeared, in gilt letters, addressed
to the fair perambulators, the following stimu-
lating preliminary to the purchase of some
showy pendants which hung temptingly near :
" Ladiks' Ears Bored."
This was enough. Theodore dragged his
companion into the shop, where a little dapper
man smiled behind the counter, rubbing his
hands with glee at the approach of what he
deemed two advantageous customers.
I
130 Bon-Mots.
"Pray, sir," asked Hook, in a very grave
tone of voice, and serious countenance, ' ' are
you the master of this shop ? "
A ready bow, and a smart "Yes, sir," satis-
fied the questioner upon this material point.
"Then," added he, sternly, "be so good as
to tell me what you mean by that placard
placed in your window."
" What, this, sir? " asked the man, taking the
enamel out of the window.
"Yes, that," replied Hook, with added
severity of tone and manner.
"Oh, sir ! " and the little man half smiled at
the ignorance of the enquirer, ' ' the meaning
is very plain, sir."
"What!" said Hook, affecting credulity,
"do you really mean to say that you or any
person under your roof, can be
serious in such a thing as that
notice bespeaks?"
" Oh dear, yes, sir ! I assure
you it is done very often ! "
" What!!!" exclaimed Hook,
with added surprise and equal
horror, "do you mean to assert
that me7i — E}iglishme.n are capable of boring
ladies' ears?"
"Dear me, sir, it's very common, I assure
you ! " said the poor man, unconscious of the
double truth of his assertion ; " I 've bored
dozens in my time."
Theodore Hook. 131
" How ! " cried out Hook in a voice that
made the httle jeweller jump, "and you tell
this with an unblushing countenance," adding,
with redoubled horror, not unmixed with wrath
— " How dare you, sir, bore ladies' ears? "
" La, sir," faltered the little cockney, looking
timidly at his strange visitor as though he
began to doubt his sanity, "la, sir ! the ladies
likes it, sir ! they couldn't 'ave h-earrings, you
know, without it ! "
" Hearings ! " exclaimed Hook in a voice of
disgust, adding with determination, " hearings
or no hearings, no ladies' ears shall be bored if
I can help it ; and I have only to say, sir, that
if you dofi't take that notice out of your window
I '11 break every pane of glass in it ; and more-
over, if I by any chance — and I shall have my
eye upon you — discover that you bore any
more ladies' ears, I '11 break every bone in your
skin. Bore ladies' ears ! Monstrous ! ! " and
turning to his friend, with a shudder, he asked,
" Did you ever hear anything so horrible?"
The poor man now faintly attempted to
speak, as if about to remonstrate against this
undue interference and tyranny, but Hook
would not listen, and reiterated in a more
violent tone of horror and disgust, his intention,
informing the little ear-piercer — who was as
pale as his shirt, and whose very frill seemed to
stand on end with amazement, not unmixed
with fear of the alarming person before him —
132 Bon-Mots.
that he should pass by his shop in the morning,
indeed every morning for the next twelve
months, and if he ever detected or heard of
that barbarous little black agent of premedi-
tated mischief in the window again, he would
not leave a whole bone in his body. Here,
quitting the shop with a look of dreadful
determination, he left the poor terrified jeweller
motionless with surprise and alarm.
The next day, and the next, the friends,
together and severally, passed the window, but
the enamel was no longer there.
/^NE of Hook's associates — S. Beazeley, an
architect and dramatist — was offered his
epitaph in these words : —
" Here lies Sam Beazeley,
Who lived hard and died easily."
— WW^
T^HEN it was first intimated to Hook that
his accounts as Accountant-general of
Mauritius were considerably wrong, he treated
the matter very lightly, saying, " If they wanted
the balance regular, they should have looked
for a man of more iveight.'"
Theodore Hook.
1.33
A N ingenious representation of the destruc-
tion of a Swiss village by an avalanche
was exhibited at the Diorama in the Regent's
Park, the effect of which
was greatly increased by a
clever vocal imitation of the
dreary wintry wind whistling
through the mountains. On
one occasion the wind ceased
whilst the exigencies of the
case still demanded its con-
tinuance, when Theodore
Hook instantly exclaimed,
" Bless me, Mr Thomson is
tired" and set all the spectators of the tragic
scene loudly laughing.
—j\hj\l\r^—
'pHEODORE PIOOK, the obese, when
challenged to a run round the garden by
Charles Lamb, declined the contest, remarking
that he could outrun nobody but ' ' the con-
stable."
-wV\/Vv—
/^N meeting a certain Peer — whose brother
had been notorious for false play at cards
— on the river fishing, Hook received, instead of
the usual courteous greeting, only a stiff cere-
monious bow. Determined not to notice it, he re-
marked, "What, my lord, following the family
occupation, eh ? — punting, I see, — punting ! "
134 Bon Mots.
'X'HE gentleman notorious from the charges
of cheating referred to, brought an action
for Hbel against certain of his accusers, which
action, however, he abandoned at the last min-
ute. Hook, immediately on hearing this, spoke
this impromptu —
" Cease your humming,
I'he case is ' on ' ;
Defendant 's Cuviming ;
Plaintiff 's— gone."
— vvvV*'—
A CERTAIN Duke, who was to have been
one of the Knights at the Eglinton Tour-
nament, was lamenting that he had been
obliged to excuse himself, on the ground of an
attack of gout.
"How," said he, "could I get my poor
puffed legs into those abominable iron boots ? "
"It will be quite as appropriate," replied
Hook, " if your Grace goes in your list shoes."
—J-J\l\l\hr—
HTHE Licenser of Plays having objected to
one of Hook's pieces, the author visited
him and remonstrated, but in vain. Speaking
of his interview afterwards, Hook said that
' ' the great licenser actually shook his head
as if there 7vas something in it.'^
Theodore Hook. 135
■\X7HEN Messrs Abbott & Egerton took the
old Coburg Theatre for the purpose of
bringing forward the legitimate drama, Abbott
asked Hook if he could suggest a new name,
the old being too much identified with ' ' blood
and thunder" to suit the proposed change of
performance.
" Well," said Hook, " as you will, of course,
butcher everything you attempt, suppose you
call it the Abattoir."
— A/wv.—
AT a somewhat solemn dinner-party, the
conversation turned upon the universality
of the acknowledgment of Shakespeare's genius ;
someone present then remarked that the only
individual he knew who thought the great poet
overrated was Perry of the Morning Ch?-07iicle.
"That," said Hook, very gravely, "excites
no surprise in me ; you must recollect that the
bard has gone out of his way, and substituted
one beverage for another, for the express pur-
pose of passing him by, and showing him a
slight."
" Beverage ! slight ! What can you mean ? "
chorused several voices.
"Why in that well known line 'to suckle
fools and chronicle small beer,' is it not mani-
fest that he should have written Chronicle
Perrv?"
Theodore Hook. 137
A VISITOR at Hook's Putney residence,
viewing the bridge from the little terrace
which overhung the Thames, said he had been
informed that it was a very good investment,
and, turning to his host, inquired if such was
the case.
" I don't really know," said Theodore, " but
you have only to cross it and you are sure to be
tolled. "
H'
OOK was at some large party where the
lady of the house was even more than
usually solicitous to get him to make sport for
her guests. A ring formed round him of people
only wanting a word's encouragement to burst
out into a violent laugh.
"Do, Mr Hook, do favour us," said the lady
for the hundredth time.
" Indeed, madam, I can't ; I can't, indeed.
I am like that little bird, the canary, and can't
lay my eggs when anyone is looking at me."
— ^A/\AA'^
/'^N the death of an actress, Mrs Wall by
name, being announced, Hook observed,
' ' Well, I suppose then by this time she is stuck
all over with bills,- — this is the way they serve all
the dead walls about London."
138 ' Bon-Mots.
IITOOK was imprisoned, there being found a
deficiency of twelve thousand pounds in
his Mauritius accounts. On his release the
sheriff' s-officer invited him to a dinner, when he
startled the company with making sport out of
his own disgrace by singing an improvised song
every verse of which ended with the chorus —
" Let him hang, with a curse, this atrocious, per-
nicious
Scoundrel, that emptied the till at Mauritius."
T
HEODORE HOOK was dining with a Mr
Hatchet, who said deprecatingly, "Ah,
my dear fellow, I am. sorry to say you will not
get to-day such a dinner as our friend Tom
Moore gave us."
"Certainly not," replied Hook, "from a
hatchet one can expect nothing but a chop."
A N old lady friend whom Hook had called to
see insisted upon his staying to dine with
her. On sitting down, the servant uncovered a
dish which contained two mutton chops, and
the hostess said —
" Mr Hook, you see your dinner."
"Thank you, ma'am," said he, " but where 's
yours f"
Theodore Hook.
139
AN acquaintance of Hook's had "a bee in
his bonnet " on tlie subject of the mil-
lennium. He was al-
\va3's agitated over its
near approach, and
on one occasion said
definitely, that the
world would be at an
end in three years
from that date.
Hook, -who was
reading a paper,
looked up and said
quietly, " Look here
L. , if you are inclined
to back your opinion,
give me five pounds
now, and I will under-
take to pay you fifty if it occur
was not accepted.
The offer
TJOOK had a recipe of his own to prevent
exposure to the night air. Describing it
he said, '' I was very ill some months ago, and
my doctor gave me particular orders not to
expose myself to the night air ; so I came up
every day to Crockford's, or to some other
place to dinner, and I made it a rule on no
account to go home again till about four or
five in the morning."
I40 Bon-Mots.
CTOICAL virtues Hook aptly criticised by
saying that '' satisfying desires by lopping
them off is as if a man were to cut off his head
when he wanted a hat."
— ^AA/Vv-
A NDREW CROSSE, " the electrician," said
that he was once at a party with Theodore
Hook, when a Mr Winter was announced, a
well-known inspector of taxes. Hook imme-
diately roared out —
Here comes Mr Winter, inspector of taxes,
I 'd advise ye to give him whatever he axes,
I 'd advise ye to give him, without any flummery,
For though his name 's Winter, his actions are
summary.
T"HEODORE HOOK was walking with a
friend in the days when "Warren's Black-
ing " was advertised on all hands. In one place
the announcement merely ran "Try Warren's
B ."
The friend drew Hook's attention to this, when
he quietly observed, " I see ; the rest is lacking."
— 'AA/v^ —
/^NE evening at Brighton, at a large party at
which Hook was the lion of the occasion,
the conversation turned upon a Miss Cox, at
Theodore Hook. 141
that time one of the reigning belles of London-
by-the-Sea. Hook sat down to the piano
as usual, and asked for a subject, and Miss
Cox's name was mentioned, whereupon he
extemporised a song of over twenty stanzas,
of which however but part got committed to
paper —
'■ When straying alone on the shore,
A-picking of weeds from the rocks,
I beheld (I ne'er saw her before)
The charming and pretty Miss Cox.
I followed this grace to a door,
When she gave to the rapper some knocks,
She entered ; I dared do no more,
But learn'd that her name was Miss Cox.
I 'm wearing and wasting away,
And had I the strength of an ox,
To a shadow I soon should decay,
If frowned on by charming Miss Cox.
But she knows not my name nor my means,
If I 'm poor, or have cash in the stocks ;
She 's haunted by lords and by deans,
And I shall be robbed of my Cox.
I 'm shy and I 'm pale and I 'm ihin,
And I wear fleecy hosiery socks,
Fleecy hosiery next to my skin.
Which perhaps might not please sweet Miss Cox.
142 Bon-Mots.
My hair is perhaps getting gray ;
Vm pitted a bit with small-pox,
My limbs, too, are wasting away —
Oh, would I v/Gve pitied by Cox !
If she's kind I shall quickly get round,
My hair will grow curly in locks,
No flannel about me be found,
Ifwarm'dby the smile of Miss Cox.
When I walk on the beach, and I see
Little children a-playing, in frocks,
I think what a thing it would be
If I should get married to Cox.
To church let me lead her, and there,
With a service the most orthodox.
Put an end to this leasing affair
By changing the name of Miss Cox."
/^N the evening of his arrival at the Univer-
sity, Hook contrived to give his brother
the slip, and joined a party of old school-fellows
in a carouse at one of the taverns.
Sundry bowls of "Bishop" and
"Egg-flip" having been discussed,
songs, amatory and Bacchanalian,
having been sung with full choruses,
and altogether the jocularity having
begun to pass" the limit of becoming
mirth," the Proctor made his appear-
and advancing to the table at which the
Theodore Hook. 143
"freshman" was presiding, put the usual
question, —
" Pray, sir, are you a member of this Univer-
sity?"
" No, sir," rephed Hook, rising and bowing
respectfully. " Pray, sir, are you?"
A little disconcerted at the extreme gravity
of the youth, the Proctor held out his ample
sleeve, "You see this, sir?"
" Ah," returned Hook, having examined the
fabric with great earnestness for a few seconds.
"Yes! I perceive — Manchester velvet — and
may I take the liberty, sir, of inquiring how
much you might have paid per yard for the
article?"
The quiet imperturbability of manner with
which this was said was more than the reverend
gentleman could stand ; and, muttering some-
thing about " supposing it was a mistake," he
effected a retreat, amid shouts of laughter from
Hook's companions, in which the other occu-
pants of the coffee-room were constrained to
join.
— wvVw—
A CCORDING to Hook there is a fascination
in the air of that little cul-de-sac known as
Downing Street — an hour's inhalation of its
atmosphere affects some men with giddiness,
others with blindness, and very frequently with
the most oblivious forgetfulness.
144 Bon- Mots.
"LJOOK, describing a college examination
paper, said that one problem which was
given to him he did in a twinkling. Given
CABio find Q. Aiistver: Take your CAB
through Hammersmith, turn to the left just
before you come to Brentford, and Kew is right
before you.
nrOM HILL (the original of Paid Pry) was
an old man of whom Hook made inces-
sant fun. All his friends looked upon Hill as
a Methuselah, but no one knew his real age.
James Smith said his age could never be known
now, for the parish register had been destroyed
in the great fire of London.
"Pooh! pooh!" broke in Hook, "he is
one of the little Hills that are spoken of as
skipping in the Psalms."
-wvw/—
H'
OOK and a friend were anxious to produce
an outspoken periodical, and sought a
"proprietor." They interviewed the proprietor
of an earlier venture, but he was afraid of
"fine and imprisonment," at that time too
often the penalty paid for outspokenness.
"All argument with him," said Hook,
' ' proved Newgate-ory.
Theodore Hook.
14:
A N illiterate vendor of beer at Harrogate
wrote over his door; " Bear sold here."
" He spells the word quite correctly," said
Hook, " if he means to apprise us that the
article is his own Bruin."
IJ OOK and Terry were passing along Frith
Street, Soho, when their noses made
known to them that at a certain house they
were passing a handsome dinner must just be
preparing.
"What a feast!" said Terry, as they got
a glimpse through the
kitchen-window. "Jolly
dogs ! I should like to
make one of them."
" I '11 take any bet that
I do," returned Hook,
"call for me here at ten
o'clock, and you will find
that I shall be able to
give a tolerable account
of the worthy gentle-
man's champagne and
venison."
"Why, you don't know him," said Terry
doubtfully.
" Not at present," replied Hook, "but don't
be later than ten." So saying he marched up
K
146 Bon-Mots.
the step, gave an authoritative rap with the
burnished knocker, and was quickly lost to the
sight of his astonished companion. As a
matter of course he was immediately ushered
by the servant, as an expected guest, into the
drawing-room, where a large party had already
assembled. The apartment being well-nigh
full, no notice was at first taken of his intrusion,
and half-a-dozen people were laughing at his
bon-inots before the host discovered the mistake.
Affecting not to observe the visible embarrass-
ment of the latter, and ingeniously avoiding
any opportunity for explanation. Hook rattled
on till he had attracted the greater portion of
the company in a circle round him, and some
considerable time elapsed ere the old gentleman
was able to catch the attention of the agreeable
stranger.
" I beg your pardon, sir," he said, contriving
at last to get in a word, " but your name, sir,
— I did not quite catch it — servants are so
abominably incorrect — and I am really a little
at a loss — "
" Don't apologise, I beg," graciously replied
Theodore, " Smith, my name is Smith, and, as
you justly observe, servants are always making
some stupid blunder or another ; I remember
a remarkable instance," &c.
" But, really, my dear sir," continued the
host, at the termination of the story illustrative
of stupidity in servants, " I think the mistake
Theodore Hook. 147
on the present occasion does not origuiate in
the source you allude to. I certainly did not
anticipate the pleasure of Mr Smith's company
to dinner to-day."
" No, I dare say not — you said four in your
note, I know, and it is now, I see, a quarter
past five — you are a little fast by the way — but
the fact is I have been detained in the city — as
I was about to explain when — "
" Pray," exclaimed the other, interrupting
his guest's volubility, " whom, may I ask, do
you suppose you are addressing?"
" Whom ? Why Mr Thompson, of course, —
old friend of my father. I have not the pleasure
indeed of being personally known to you, but
having received your kind invitation yesterday
on my arrival from Liverpool — Frith Street —
four o'clock — family party — come in boots —
you see I have taken you at your word. I am
only afraid I have kept you waiting."
" No, no ; not all. But permit me to observe,
my dear sir, my name is not exactly Thompson,
it is Jones and — "
" Jones ! " repeated the soi-disant Smith, in
admirably assumed consternation, '' Jones ! —
why surely I cannot have — yes, I must — Good
Heaven ! I see it all ! My dear sir, what an
unfortunate blunder — wrong house — what must
you think of such an intrusion ! — you will
permit me to retire at present, and to-morrow — "
"Pray don't think of retiring!" exclaimed
148
Bon-Mots.
the hospitable old gentleman, "your friend's
table must have been cleared long ago if, as
you say, four was the hour named, and I am
only too happy to be able to offer you a seat at
mine."
Hook, of course, could not hear of such a
thing — could not think of trespassing upon the
kindness of a perfect stranger — if too late for
Thompson, there were plenty of
chop-houses at hand — the un-
fortunate part of the business was
that he had made an appoint-
ment with a gentleman to call for
him at ten o'clock. The good-
natured Jones, however, positively
refused to allow so entertaining
a visitor to withdraw dinnerless.
Mrs Jones joined in solicitation,
the Misses Jones smiled bewitch-
ingly, and at last Mr Smith, who
soon recovered from his confusion,
was prevailed upon to offer his arm to one of
the ladies, and to take his place at the dinner
table.
In all probability the family of Jones never
passed such an evening before. Hook naturally
exerted himself to the utmost to keep the party
in an unceasing roar of laughter, and tO make
good the first impression. The mirth grew
fast and furious when, by way of coup de grace,
he seated himself at the pianoforte, and struck
Theodore Hook. 149
off into one of those extemporaneous effusions
which had filled more critical judges than the
Joneses with delight and astonishment. Ten
o'clock struck, and on Mr Terry being
announced, Hook triumphantly wound up the
performance with this explanatory stanza —
" I am very much pleased with your fare,
Your cellar 's as prime as your cook. —
My friend 's Mr -Terry, the player,
And I 'm Mr Theodore Hook! "
r\N his way home from Mauritius, under
arrest, at Helena Hook encountered Lord
Charles .Somerset on his way to assume the
governorship of the Cape. Lord Charles, who
had met him in London occasionally, and
knew nothing of his arrest, said, " I hope 3'ou
are not going home for your health, Mr
Hook?"
"Why," answered he, "I am sorry to say,
they think there is something wrong in the
c-/iest "
— A/WW-
'pHEODORE HOOK would invent names
for the various dishes on a dinner-table ;
Maccaroni, for instance, he called "tobacco
pipes made easy"; scalloped oysters, "child-
ren's ears done in sawdust"; and parsnips he
called "sick carrots;" while whitebait he
likened to '' silkworms in batter."
''>^
Theodore Hook. 151
AN old friend visited Hook in a sponging
house, whither debt had driven him.
"Why, really, Hook," said the visitor,
" you are not so badly lodged here, after all ;
this is a cheerful room enough."
" Oh yes ! " returned Hook in a significant
tone, as he pointed to the iron defence outside,
" remarkably so — darn' >/_o- the windows ! "
— 'A/VW—
CTAYING at a country house on one occasion,
Hook had even outdone himself in im-
provising during a long and pleasant evening.
One last song was solicited. Hook, fresh as
ever, responded to the request, taking as his
subject, and pointing every stanza with the
words, " Good-Night."
Suddenly, in the midst of the mirth, some
one threw open a shutter close by the end of
the pianoforte ; the sun was rising, and forced
its early light into the apartment. On the
instant the singer paused, a boy with wondering
eyes fixed upon him, stood by his side. Like
old Timotheus he. "changed his hand," and
turning from the ladies clustered round, in
a voice of deep pathos apostrophised the
child, and thus concluded —
" But the sun see the heavens adorning,
Diffusing life, pleasure, and light !
To thee 'tis the promise of morning,
To us 'tis the closing ' good-night ! ' "
1 5 2 Bon-Mots.
AT Lord Melville's trial Hook and a friend
were present. They arrived early, and
were engaged in conversation when the peers
began to enter. At this moment a country-
looking lady, whom he afterwards found to be
a resident at Rye, Sussex, touched his arm and
said —
" I beg your pardon, sir, but, pray, who are
those gentlemen in red now coming in?"
"Those, ma'am," returned Theodore, "are
the Barons of England ; in these cases the
junior peers always come first."
"Thank you, sir, much obliged to you."
"Louisa, my dear" (turning to a girl about
fourteen), " tell Jane (about ten) those are the
Barons of England; and the juniors — that's
the youngest, you know — always goes first.
Tell her to be sure and remember that when
we get home."
"Dear me, ma!" said Louisa, "can that
gentleman be one of the youngest f I am sure
he looks one — very old."
Human nature, said Hook, could not stand
this ; anyone, though with no more mischief
in him than a door, must have been excited to
a hoax.
" And pray, sir," continued the lady, " what
gentlemen are those?" pointing to the bishops,
who came next in order, in the dress which
they wore on State occasions— scarlet and lawn
sleeves over their doctor's robes.
"Gentlemen, ma'am!" said Hook, " tho^c
Theodore Hook.
153
are not gentleman ; those are ladies, elderly-
ladies — the Dowager-Peeresses in their own
right."
The fair enquirer fixed a penetrating glance
upon his countenance, saying as plainly as an
eye can say. ' ' Are you
quizzing me or no?"
Not a muscle moved ; till
at last, tolerably satisfied
with her scrutiny, she
turned round and ■
whispered —
"Louisa, dear, the
gentleman says that these
are elderly ladies, and
Dowager- Peeresses in their
own right ! Tell Jane not
to forget that."
All went on smoothly
till the Speaker of the House of Conuiions
attracted her attention by the rich embroidery
of his robes.
"Pray, sir," said she, "and who is that
fine-looking person opposite ? "
"That, madam," was the answer, "is
Cardinal Wolsey ! "
" No, sir," cried the lady, drawing herself up,
and casting at her informant a look of angry
disdain, "we know a httle better than that ;
Cardinal Wolsey has been dead many a good
year ! "
154 Bon-Mots.
" No such thing, my dear madam, I assure
you," rephed Hook with perfect gravity; "it
has been, I know, so reported in the country,
but without the least foundation ; in fact, those
rascally newspapers will say anything."
The good old gentlewoman appeared thunder-
struck, opened her eyes to their full extent, and
gasped like a dying carp ; vox faucibus hcesit,
seizing a daughter with each hand, she hurried
without a word from the spot.
A WOULD-BE Scientist was boring Theodore
Hook with the distinctions in formation
and habits between two animals of the same
genus. Hook, whose patience was soon ex-
hausted, and who did not wish to know anything
about it, exclaimed, " It flashes on me now, I
see the distinction: it's just the same with
swine."
*' With swine ! " echoed the astonished
naturalist.
"Yes," repeated Hook, "with swine, for,
you know, some pigs are driven, and oXhex pigs
are lead."
The bore gave a grunt, and relapsed into
silence.
Theodore Hook. 155
/^NE morning at Drayton Manor, where
Hook was staying as a guest, some one
after breakfast happened to read out from a
newspaper a paragraph in which a well-known
coroner was charged with having had a corpse
unnecessarily disinterred. The ladies were
very severe in condemnation of such unfeeling
conduct ; a gallant captain, however, who was
present, took up the cudgels in behalf of the
accused, maintaining that he was a very kind-
hearted man, and incapable of doing anything
without strong reasons which would be calcu-
lated to annoy the friends of the deceased.
The contest waxed warm. " Come," said the
Captain, at length, turning to Hook, who was
poring over the Ti7?ies in a corner of the
room, and who had taken no part in the
discussion ; " come. Hook, you know W. ;
what do you think of him ? Is he not a good-
tempered, good-natured fellow ? "
" Indeed he is," replied Hook, laying aside
his paper ; " I should say he was just the very
man to give a body a lift."
— A/Wv^—
"LJOOK on one occasion found himself in an
awkward predicament. Having ridden
about in a coach for some time, he found
that he had not wherewithal to pay its hire.
He pulled the checkstring and told the driver
i=;6
Bon-Mots
to proceed to No. — Street, the West End
residence of a well-known surgeon. Arrived,
he ordered the coachman to " knock and ring."
On the door being opened, he hastily entered.
"Is Mr Dash at home? I' must see him
immediately."
The surgeon soon made his appearance, and
Hook in a hurried and agitated
tone commenced — ' ' My dear
sir, I trust you are disen-
gaged?" Mr Dash bowed.
" Thank Heaven ; pardon my
incoherence, sir — make allow-
ance for the feeling of a hus-
band— perhaps a father — your
attendance, sir, is instantly
required — instantly — by Mrs
Black, &c. Pray, lose not a
moment. It is a very peculiar
case, I assure you."
" I will start directly," said
the medical man. ' ' I have
only to run upstairs, get my
apparatus, and step into my
carriage."
" Ah ! exactly," returned Hook, "but I am in
an agony until I see you fairly off — don't think
of ordering out your own carriage — here 's one
at the door — ^jump into that.'
Mr Dash, with a great mahogany case under
his arm, made the jump, and soonfound himself
Theodore Hook. 157
at the house to which he had been directed :
it was the abode of a very stiff-mannered
middle-aged maiden lady, not unknown to
Hook ; one moreover to whom he owed a
grudge, a kind of debt which he rarely failed
to pay. The doctor was admitted, but on
explaining the object of his visit, soon found it
convenient to make a precipitate retreat from
the claws of the infuriated spinster into the arms
of the hackney coachman, who deposited him
in safety at his own door, which, however he
declined quitting without the full amount of
his fare.
A T a dinner party Hook was pressed to give
yet another of his extemporary songs, and
consented, saying the subject should be John
Murray. That worthy publisher, however,
vehemently objected, and a ludicrous contention
took place, during which Hook dodged Murray
round the table, placing chairs in his path, and
singing all the while a sort of recitation, of
which only the commencement got committed
to paper : —
" My friend, John Murray, I see has arrived at ihe
head of the table,
And the wonder is, at this time of night, that John
Murray should be able.
He's an excellent hand at a dinner, and not a bad
one at a lunch,
But the devil of John Murray is — that he never will
pass the punch."
158 Bon-Mots.
"\^HILE he was in the Mauritius Hook
invited a couple of new arrivals to dine
with him d la Mauritius. The travellers took
their seats with a full determination of doing
ample justice to the far-famed delicacies of the
island. The first course presented to the eyes
of the astonished but still unsuspecting strangers
comprised nearly every species of ?^«eatable
that could be got together. An enormous
gourd graced the centre of the table, strange
de-appetising dishes were placed around, and
in turn pressed upon the attention of the
guests.
" Allow me to offer you a little caf-curry,"
exclaimed the host; "there is an absurd pre-
judice against these things in Europe I know,
but this I can really recommend ; or, perhaps
you would prefer a little devilled ino7ikey ; that
is, I believe, a dish oi fried snakes opposite you,
Mr J."
The guest recoiled in alarm.
" Hand those lizards round, they seem
particularly fine."
Nastiness after nastiness was proffered in
vain ; the perplexed Cockneys struggled hard
to maintain a decent composure, but with
difficulty kept their ground before the un-
savoury abominations. What vvas to be done !
— it was clearly the cuisine de pays, and the host
appeared evidently distressed at their want
of appreciation of his fare. One gentleman,
Theodore Hook. 159
at length, in sheer despair, thought he " would
just try a hzard."
" Pray do so," eagerly returned Hook, " you
will find the flavour a little peculiar at first I
daresay ; but it is astonishing how soon it
becomes pleasant to the palate."
But however rapidly a taste for the saurian
delicacy might be acquired, the adventurous
individual in question was not destined to make
the experiment. In endeavouring to help him-
self to one of those unpromising dainties, the
tail became separated from its body — it was too
much for his nerve — turning a little pale he
pushed aside his plate and begged to be excused.
Since the celebrated " feast after the manner of
the ancients," such a collation had never been
put down before hungry men : the jest, however.
i6o Bon-Mots.
was not pushed to extremes, a second course
succeeded ; and, on the choice viands of which
it consisted, the guests proceeded to fall to
with what appetite they might.
—^A/W'T—
T^HERE is an end to all things, even to
Upper Wimpole Street, Theodore Hook
is reported to have said when on his death-bed.
— A/\/VVv —
/^N one occasion, when Hook had been asked
to go to the piano and extemporise, the
subject which was given to him was ' ' the Jews."
He sat down and immediately rattled off all
sorts of humorous nonsense, cleverly winding
up with —
I dare say you think there 's little wit
In this, but you 've all forgot
That instead of being a/t'u> d'esprit
'Tis only a Jeiv de mot.
—'^S\l\lV'—
A/TR HUME, M.P. was a favourite butt for
the shafts of Hook's wit. Certain lines
from Horace were taken, each containing some
form of the word hu7nus or its cognates — were
converted by ingenious translation into so many
Theodore Hook. i6i
prophetic alhisions to the history of the indefati-
gable Member.
^^ Ex Htimili potens — From a surgeon to a
Member of Parhament."
'' Ne quis Hum-asse velit — Let no one call
Hume an ass."
'■'■Htimili modo loqjii — To talk Scotch like
Hume."
' ' Humi procuvibit Bos — Bull falls foul of
Hume."*
Finally Hook suggested as a motto for the
M.P. — '^ Graiis expe?'s catenis — I have got rid
of my Greek bonds."
HTHEODORE HOOK once defined contin-
gencies as " things that never happen."
— •A/\f\f^r—
'T^HE following song is a wonderful example
of Hook's improvisatorial powers ; accord-
ing to his biographer "it was nearly all im-
provised one evening by Hook." Each
character, we are told, is a portrait : —
Miss Elizabeth Bull of good sense was as full
As any young lady need be ;
I '11 tell you a tale of her Uncle, old Bull,
And of her, as she told it to me.
* Alluding to John Bull, in whose columns many of
Hook's witticisms at the expense of Hume appeared.
L
1 6a
l^M\ Mots.
I "nx an lvei\-e.vs, she s«\id, tv^ n wiUlish otate,
Whiv^h very v>\\Hlvictive mijjht l>e ;
lUn 'twas >;oins to rack at a terrible rate.
Ami I tltou^ht th*\t'M <'o\ioth\\\t; Ivm nuv
*
I jvist vU\»^»jMfvl « hint ^xl" u»p««^'Kment fo* waste,
V.Uvles.s I'iKle l^wU vvivHiKt Aj;re«
IV );«< iMftter StewarUs , when. lv»' lu s^***' ^*^'
rh« *.vUl vM»es v«n\e cvnutiws »'^'* »"«■
With VMM tvx>th in his h««v)t And t«n ^oW in hU «y >
Ami '* hb isATlei Mow his l.«e« " ;
The tirst thvnvsht »\y vn^ssk^m* *nvt kc«UQjg» t\> try
Hy a |iil«\iK« lh*« he 'd statul by mt*.
Theodore Hook. 163
Twas he who once said " by his order he 'd stand,"
Yet for dinners with Alderman Key,
And a small penny cup from a sad dirty hand,
I'roke thai pledge as he 'd break one to me.
Go ! I cried, and if ever you speak to a Peer,
I,et your key be a minor key ;
The man who his Order gave up for a cheer,
Is no man for a lady like nie
The next who appeared was '' a candid man,"
Who admitted he did not see
That two five-pound notes would make sovereigns
ten,
If one, would give five pounds to me.
He stammered much stuff about stock and the
stocks,
'I'ithes, factories, and niggers, and tea ;
Hut I found he was only a judge of an ox,
So I told him he should never lead me.
With his hand to his head, and a tear in his eye,
Came the nigger's late Ma.ssa Grandee,
With razors, and shoes, and with millinery.
He had filched from those niggers for me.
Oh ! how from a man by such presents endearM,
In my heart could I find it to flee?
He who tried to shave niggers, who haven't a beard
Might ne.\t, perhaps, try to shave me.
I'he next one who came owed nature a -^pitc.
For a pens are better far than most I 've tried ;
But for the quills your words are somewhat loose,
Who manufactures quills must be a Goose."
— naAA/-^-
F'
|*OR a long time Theodore Hook was fond
of firing off puns, squibs, and epigrams at
the expense of Samuel Rogers, the poet. The
following lines are a good example of these
Theodore Hook. 183
witticisms. It may be prefaced that Rogers'
cadaverous appearance was such as to make
him a butt for much fun on the part of all those
wits who gathered at his famous breakfasts, as
well as on the part of those who knew him
less intimately —
Cries Sam, " All Human Life is frail,
E'en mine may not endure;
Then, lest it suddenly should fail,
I '11 hasten to insure."
At Morgan's office Sam arrived,
Reckoning without his host ;
"Avaunt ! " the frightened Morgan cried,
" I can't insure a ghost."
" Zounds! 'tis my poem, not my face ;
Here, list while I recite it."
Said Morgan, " Seek some other place,
I cannot underwrite it."
— •H\l\r^—
'pHE BERNERS STREET HOAX.— Hook,
with a couple of confederates assisting, was
responsible for what was per-
haps one of the greatest hoaxes
ever perpetrated, the Berners
Street Hoax of 1809. Six weeks
were spent in busy preparation
for the coup, and during that
time about four thousand letters
were despatched, all under various pretences,
inviting the several recipients to call on a certain
184 Bon-Mots.
day at the house of a Mrs Tottenham, a lady
of property, residing at 54 Berners Street, who
had, for some reason, fallen under the dis-
pleasure of this formidable trio.
Scarce had the eventful morning begun to
break ere the neighbourhood resounded with
cries of "sweep," uttered in every variety of
tone, and proceeding from crowds of sooty
urchins and their masters who had assembled
by five o'clock beneath the windows of the
devoted No. 54. In the midst of the wrangling
of the rival professors, and the protestations of
the repudiating housemaid, heavy waggons
laden with chaldrons of coals from the different
wharves, came rumbling up the street, blocking
the thoroughfare, impeding one another, crush-
ing and struggling to reach the same goal, amid
a hurricane of imprecations from the respective
conducteurs. Now among the gathering crowd,
cleanly, cook-like men were to be seen, cauti-
ously making their way, each with a massive
wedding cake under his arm ; tailors, boot-
makers, upholders, undertakers with coffins,
draymen with beer-barrels, &'C., succeeded in
shoals, and long before the cumbrous coal-
waggons were enabled to move off, about a
dozen travelling chariots and four, all ready
for the reception of as many "happy pairs,"
came dashing up to the spot. Medical men
with instruments for the amputation of limbs,
attorneys prepared to cut off entails, clergy-
Theodore Hook. 185
man summoned to minister to the mind, and
artists engaged to pourtray the features of the
body, unable to draw near in vehicles, plunged
manfully into the mob. Noon came, and with
it about forty fishmongers, bearing forty " cod
and lobsters ; " as many butchers with as many
legs of mutton ; and as the confusion reached
its height, and the uproar became terrific, and
the construction of the poor old lady grew to be
bordering on temporary insanity, up drove the
great Lord Mayor himself — state carriage,
cocked hat, silk stockings, big wigs and all, to
the intense gratification of Hook and his two
associates, who, snugly ensconced in an apart-
ment opposite, were witnessing the triumph of
their scheme.
All this, perhaps, was comparatively common-
place, and within the range of a mediocre
'•'joker of jokes." There were features, however,
in the hoax, independent of its originality,
which distinguished it for wit and mdchancetd
far above any of the numberless imitations to
which it gave rise. Every family, it is said,
has its secret, some point tender to the touch,
some circumstance desirable to be suppressed ;
according to the proverb, ' ' there is a skeleton
in every house," and, as a matter of course, the
more eminent and conspicuous the master of
the house, the more busy are men's tongues
with his private affairs, and the more likely are
they to get scent of any concealed subject of
1 86 Bon-Mots.
annoyance. Completely familiar with London
gossip, and by no means scrupulous in the use
of any information he might possess, Hook
addressed a variety of persons of consideration,
taking care to introduce allusion to some peculiar
point sure of attracting attention, and invariably
closing with an invitation to No. 54 Berners
Street. Certain revelations to be made respect-
ing a complicated system of fraud pursued at
the Bank of England brought the governor of
that establishment ; a similar device was em-
ployed to allure the chairman of the East India
Company, while the Duke of Gloucester started
off with Colonel Dalton to receive a communica-
tion from a dying woman, formerly a confiden-
Theodore Hook. 1S7
tial attendant on his Royal Highness's mother ;
his were the royal liveries conspicuous on that
occasion.
— A/\/\/v^ —
TSJ-EW YEAR'S DAY.— Hail ! happy day !
amiable season ! when ill-timed offences
of the past are forgotten in the well-timed
preserit ! and friendly gifts, Hke jobbing tailors,
are charitably employed in repairing old
breaches !
Doctors are sending in their bills for
draughts, wistfully looking for drafts in re-
turn for their bills ; and birds are sending their
bills into the barky trees for food !
Banks are broken, and brooks in vain attempt
to run, for Jack Frost, like a hard creditor,
arrests them in their course ; and there 's no
bailing them out ! Yes ! ships are frozen in,
gardeners frozen out, and rivers frozen up !
The parish pumps are dry, and the dancing-
masters in full play ; and even little urchins,
when it snows, give balls ! Elderly maidens
who issue forth in hopes of catching pretty
men, return home with ordinary chaps !
Thrice pleasant day ! when family parties
assemble in one smiling circle, when near
relations, once distant, are now invited, and
garrulous grandmamas tell funny stories,
making dutiful grandchildren laugh at their
relations !
i88 Bon-Mots.
Delightful period of social intercourse ! when
good matches are brought in contact with lively
sparks ! Season of singular coincidences !
when pastry cooks and profit urge one class,
and love and pleasure another, to break the
ice !
Sere and withered branches without their
leaves, are lopped and chopped into fagots —
and many a housemaid full of life (like the dead
of old) is crossing the sticks fated to be burnt !
"Many happy returns!" which end in
nothing, are wished by shallow friends ; and
the "best returns," which end in smoke, are
puffed forth by labourers and apple-women !
Modern belles appear decked in fringes of fur
(wrapping their chilly chins in chinchilly boas),
and modern eaves in fringes of icicles ! while
careful old folks go out to recruit their bodies
and list their soles !
A S a warning against punning, Theodore
Hook wrote the following verses for
young readers, to afford a warning and ex-
hibit a deformity to be avoided, rather than an
example to be followed : —
My little dears, who learn to read,
Pray, early learn to shun
That very silly thing indeed.
Which peop'e call a pun.
Theodore Hook. 189
Read Entick's rules, and 'twill be found
How simple an offence
It is, to make the self-same sound
Afford a double sense.
For instance, ale may make you ail.
Your aunt an ant may kill.
You in a vale may buy a veil.
And Bill may pay the /'///.
Or if to France your bark you steer,
At Dover it may be,
A peer appears upon the pie7\
Who, blind, still goes to sea.
Thus one might say, when to a treat
Good friends accept our greeting,
'Tis meet that men who meet to eat
Should eat their meat when meeting.
Brawn on the board's no bore indeed,
Although from boar prepared ;
Nor can theyi>7c//, on which we feed.
Foul feeding be declared.
Thus one ripe fruit may be a pear,
And yet be /