"infinite ricfas in a litm
 
 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 BARHAM, HARNESS, AND HODDER.
 
 BfilC-A-BRAC SERIES. 
 
 i. 
 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES BY CHORLEY, PLANCH*, AND YOUNG. 
 
 II. 
 
 ANECDOTE BIOGRAPHIES OF THACKERAY AND DICKENS. 
 
 III. 
 
 PROSPER MtRIMEVs LETTERS TO AN INCOGNITA; WITH 
 RECOLLECTIONS BY LAMARTINE AND GEORGE SAND. 
 
 IV. 
 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES BY BARHAM, HARNESS, AND HOD- 
 
 DO. 
 
 V. 
 
 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES BY MOORE AND JERDAN. 
 
 ( Will be published in January. ) 
 
 Each I vol. of I2mo. Per vol. $1.50. 
 
 Sent, pest-paid, on receipt of price by the publishers.
 
 'PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 BY 
 
 BARHAM, HARNESS, AND HODDER. 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 RICHARD HENRY STODDARD 
 
 
 NEW YORK 
 SCRIBNER, ARMSTRONG, AND COMPANY 
 
 1875
 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by 
 
 SCRIBNER, ARMSTRONG, AND COMPANY, 
 In the Office ol the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
 RIVP.RSIDK, CAMBRIDGE: 
 
 TRUEOTVPKD AND PKINTKI) BY 
 
 H. O. HOUCMTON AND COMPAKV.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 THEODORE HOOK 
 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT .... 
 
 BARHAM'S COLLEGE LIFE 
 
 ANECDOTE OF HARLEY, THE COMEDIAN . 
 
 WITCHCRAFT 
 
 BARHAM AMONG SMUGGLERS . 
 
 A CASE OF MONOMANIA 
 
 A POETICAL INVITATION . 
 
 THE FATE OF A HARE .... 
 
 RUSTIC SIMPLICITY .... 
 
 ANECDOTE OF LORD ELDON . 
 
 THE BLOMBERG GHOST STORY 
 
 DR. BLOMBERG AND His FIDDLES 
 
 MURDER OF MRS. DONATTY 
 
 MESMERISM 
 
 EDWARD CANNON . 
 THEATRICAL ANECDOTES 
 ANECDOTE OF INDIAN OFFICER 
 CANNON'S SNUFF-TAKING 
 THE DIGNUM BROTHERS . 
 
 A STRANGE FISH 
 
 A KEW COMER 
 
 OLD FRIENDS SHOULD NOT BE PARTED 
 LUTTREL'S EPIGRAM .... 
 THE DUCHESS OF ST. ALBANS 
 
 THOMAS HILL 
 
 A PARADOX 
 
 A DUBIOUS ACQUAINTANCE 
 
 19 
 
 45 
 53 
 55 
 56 
 57 
 59 
 60 
 61 
 61 
 62 
 
 63 
 67 
 68 
 7i 
 74 
 85 
 86 
 
 87 
 
 89 
 90 
 90 
 
 92 
 93
 
 Vi CONTENTS. 
 
 JOHN WILSON 96 
 
 A GHOST STORY 98 
 
 THOMAS HUME 99 
 
 CHARLES MATTHEWS, THE ELDER .... 103 
 
 THE PORTSMOUTH GHOST STORY 105 
 
 FUNERAL OK SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE . . . . 112 
 
 JOHN FROST 113 
 
 POETICAL EPISTLE TO HIS SON 116 
 
 SYDNEY SMITH 118 
 
 TOWNSEND, THE BoW STREET OFFICER . . . 119 
 
 ANOTHER GHOST STORY 119 
 
 THE BEEFSTEAK CLUB 122 
 
 DENIALS OF AUTHORSHIP 123 
 
 SUETT'S FUNERAL 123 
 
 " MY COUSIN NICHOLAS " 125 
 
 WILLIAM LINLET 129 
 
 HAYNES BAYLY 132 
 
 "GETTING A LITTLE FISHING" 132 
 
 LINF.S LEFT AT HOOK'S HOUSE IN JUNE, 1834 . " . 133 
 
 ANECDOTE OF TALLEYRAND 134 
 
 BON MOT OF POWERS 134 
 
 SYDNEY SMITHISMS 134 
 
 STORY OF YATES 135 
 
 THE CANISTER 137 
 
 A DINNER AT CHARLES KF.MBLE'S 138 
 
 THOMAS MOORE 138 
 
 BARHAM'S LOVE OF CHILDREN AND CATS . . .141 
 
 MRS. RICKETTS'S GHOST STORY 143 
 
 PICKLED COCKLES 150 
 
 GAEME FEATHERS 151 
 
 POETICAL EPISTLE TO DR. HUME 151 
 
 AN ACCOMPLISHED SWINDLER 153 
 
 A SONG OF SIXPENCE 135 
 
 THE QUEEN OF THE BELGIANS 156 
 
 MONCRIEF, THE DRAMATIST 157 
 
 THE SENTIMENTAL CHILD 158 
 
 THE UNLUCKY PRESENT 158 
 
 ANECDOTES 160 
 
 FACETi/e 161 
 
 SYDNEY SMITH'S NOVEL i6a
 
 CONTENTS. vii 
 
 DUKE OF SUSSEX AND MR. OFFOR 163 
 
 PARSON O'BEIRNE'S SERMON 163 
 
 A NOBLEMAN WHO WOULD SELL ANYTHING . . .165 
 
 SCRAPS 166 
 
 A FRENCHMAN'S CRITICISM 168 
 
 MACREADY IN AMERICA 169 
 
 BARHAM'S SURGEON . . . . . . . . 170 
 
 THE BULLETIN ' 172 
 
 To THE GARKICK CLUB 174 
 
 WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 LORD BYRON 179 
 
 MARY RUSSELL MITFORD 196 
 
 HARNESS AT STRATFORD 207 
 
 His EDITION OF SHAKESPEARE 208 
 
 SHAKESPEARE AS A PLAYER 210 
 
 GOODNESS OF SHAKESPEARE'S WRITING . . .211 
 
 THE GLOBE THEATRE . . ... . . 214 
 
 MRS. SIDDONS 216 
 
 PROSPERO'S ISLAND . . . . . . 218 
 
 THE KEMBLES IN AMERICA . 219 
 
 THE KEANS 225 
 
 " MEMORIALS OF CATHERINE FANSHAWE "... 226 
 
 MASTERS AND SERVANTS 230 
 
 STATE OF THE ENGLISH BIBLE 232 
 
 EDWARD IRVING . . . ... . . 232 
 
 HARNESS'S EARLY REMINISCENCES 234 
 
 PALEY 234 
 
 CRABBE 234 
 
 HARNESS AND SCOTT 235 
 
 COLERIDGE 237 
 
 LAMB 238 
 
 SHERIDAN 239 
 
 ROGERS 239 
 
 WASHINGTON IRVING 241 
 
 THEODORE HOOK 241 
 
 LYDIA WHITE 243 
 
 HENRY HOPE 243 
 
 SERJEANT TALFOURD 245 
 
 A DINNER AT THACKERAY'S 246
 
 viii CONTENTS. 
 
 DR. MttMAN ......... 247 
 
 A PRISON CHAPLAIN ....... 248 
 
 SOME OF HARNESS'S ANECDOTES ..... 248 
 
 GEORGE //ODDER. 
 
 DOUGLAS JERROLD ........ 253 
 
 THE ORIGIN OF "PUNCH" ...... 286 
 
 HORACE MAYHEW ........ 296 
 
 THE MAYHEW FAMILY ....... 298 
 
 JOHN LEECH ......... 303 
 
 SIR HENRY WEBB ........ 305 
 
 ALBERT SMITH ........ 306 
 
 KENNY MEADOWS ........ 313 
 
 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK ....... 316 
 
 A LOVER OF AUTOGRAPHS ...... 319 
 
 LEIGH HUNT ......... 320 
 
 JAMES SHERIDAN KNOWLES ...... 325
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 IF reasons for the existence of some books are 
 occasionally sought by their readers, the class of 
 books to which this volume belongs generally 
 presents " its own excuse for being." The world de- 
 mands it. " The world," says stalwart Christopher North, 
 " would seem to have a natural right to know much of 
 the mind, morals, and manners of the chosen few as 
 they exhibited themselves in private life, whose genius 
 may have delighted or enlightened it, to know more 
 than in general can have been revealed in their works. 
 It desires this, not from a paltry and prying curiosity, 
 but in a spirit of love, or admiration, or gratitude, or 
 reverence. It is something to the reader of a great poet, 
 but to have seen him, to be able to say ' Virgilium tan- 
 turn vidi.' How deeply interesting to hear a few charac- 
 teristic anecdotes related of him by some favored friend ! 
 To have some glimpses, at least, if not full and broad 
 lights, given to us into his domestic privacy and the 
 inner on-goings beneath what, to our imaginations, is a 
 hallowed roof ! We cannot bear to think that our knowl- 
 edge of our benefactors for such they are should 
 be limited to the few and scanty personal notices that 
 may be scattered under the impulse of peculiar emotions
 
 X PREFACE. 
 
 here and there, over their writings ; we cannot bear to 
 think that, when the grave closes upon them, their 
 memory must survive only in their works ; but the same 
 earnest and devout spirit that gazes upon the shadows of 
 their countenances on the limner's canvas, yearns to 
 hear it told, in pious biography, what manner of men 
 they were at the frugal or the festal board, by the fire- 
 side, in the social or the family circle, in the discharge of 
 those duties that solemnize the relations of kindred, and 
 that support the roof-tree of domestic life." 
 
 The personal reminiscences which follow concern a 
 number of illustrious names, most of whom belong to 
 the England of the present century. They are drawn 
 from the works of those men of letters, who, if not great 
 themselves, were frequently in contact with greatness, 
 Barham, Harness, and Hodder. A few pages concerning 
 them may not be unacceptable here. 
 
 Richard Harris Barham was born December 6, 1788, 
 at Canterbury. He was the only son of Richard Harris 
 Barham, a gentleman of good family, and a bon-vivant 
 who died in 1795, leaving a moderate fortune somewhat 
 encumbered. In consequence of the feeble health of his 
 mother, the fatherless boy of seven was left to the three- 
 fold guardianship of Mr. Morris Robinson, afterwards 
 Lord Rokeby, a Mr. Morris, and a rascally attorney, 
 whose name has not been handed down. Young Bar- 
 h.un was sent at the age of nine to St. Paul's School, 
 where he made rapid progress in the classics. In his 
 fourteenth year he was nearly killed by the upsetting of 
 the Dover mail, in which he was travelling on his way to 
 town. He thrust his hand from the window for the pur- 
 pose of opening the door just as the vehicle turned over 
 upon its side, pinning his exposed limb to the ground,
 
 PREFACE. xi 
 
 and dragging it some distance along a recently repaved 
 road. He recovered from his injuries after a long ill- 
 ness, and without suffering amputation, and continuing 
 for two years at St. Paul's he entered as a gentleman 
 commoner Brazenose College, where he made the ac- 
 quaintance of Theodore Hook, and where, after passing 
 his examination, he took a Bachelor's degree. He in- 
 tended originally to study for the bar, and went so far as 
 to enter the office of Chitty, the eminent conveyancer ; 
 but he changed his mind, and entering holy orders was 
 admitted to the curacy of Ashford, in Kent, in 1813. 
 
 He was married shortly afterward, and in 1817 was 
 promoted by the Archbishop of Canterbury to the rectory 
 of Snargate. Two years later he was overturned in his 
 gig with his two children, breaking his right leg. He was 
 confined to the house for several weeks, which he turned 
 to account by writing a work entitled, " Baldwin." After 
 his recovery he made a visit to London, where he learned 
 that a minor canonry in St. Paul's was vacant. He re- 
 solved to relinquish his curacy and canvass for it. He 
 succeeded in obtaining it, and in the summer of 1821 
 took up his abode permanently in London. His family 
 having increased, a larger income than he had hitherto 
 enjoyed was necessary, and he set to work resolutely to 
 procure it by literature. He edited the " London Chron- 
 icle," a journal originally conducted by Dr. Johnson ; he 
 wrote light articles in prose and verse on the topics of 
 the day, with an occasional review in " John Bull," the 
 " Globe and Traveller," the " Literary Gazette," " Black- 
 wood," and other periodicals, besides assisting in the 
 production of a Biographical Dictionary. 
 
 The success which attended Barham in his literary 
 labors attended him in his clerical career. In 1824 he
 
 xii PREFACE. 
 
 received the appointment of priest in ordinary of His 
 Majesty's Chapels Royal, and was presented to the in- 
 cumbency of St. Mary Magdalen and St. Gregory by St. 
 Paul's, which he held for about eighteen years. In 1842 
 he was elected to the presidency of Sion College, and in 
 the same year his long services at St. Paul's were re- 
 warded with the Divinity lectureship, and by being al- 
 lowed to exchange his living for that of St. Faith. 
 
 Barham's last days were darkened by illness, which 
 appears to have been brought on by his own imprudence. 
 The Queen visited London in state in the autumn of 
 1844, for the purpose of presiding at the ceremony of 
 opening the new Royal Exchange, and Barham, wishing 
 to witness the pageant, accepted seats for himself and his 
 family at the house of one of his parishioners. The 
 weather was bleak ; a strong east wind whistled through 
 the open windows, and he caught a severe cold. His 
 case became so alarming in the following winter that he 
 was ordered to Bath, where his health improved. He 
 returned to London imprudently to attend a meeting of 
 the Archaelogical Association, caught cold again, and had 
 a relapse. He recovered sufficiently in May to undertake 
 a journey to Clifton with his wife, who was ill. The 
 journey benefited neither. A temporary convalescence 
 enabled them to return to town, where, on the morning 
 of June 17, 1845, Barham expired, in the fifty-seventh 
 year of his age. 
 
 The life of Barham was in a certain sense tygjcal of 
 the class to which he belonged. He enjoyed life, loved 
 his friends, was fond of a good dinner and a good story, 
 a right-minded, jovial English parson. Literature was 
 as much his amusement as his employment, the work by 
 which he is best known, "The Ingoldsby Legends,"
 
 PREFACE. xiii 
 
 ranking high among the drolleries of English humorous 
 verse. They originally appeared in the pages of " Bent- 
 ley's Miscellany," where they attracted as much attention 
 as the fictions of its young editor, Charles Dickens. 
 
 The life of William Harness was simple and unevent- 
 ful. He was born on March 14, 1790, near the village of 
 Wickham, where his father, Dr. Harness, resided until 
 1796, when, on the breaking out of war, he accompanied 
 Lord Hook to the Mediterranean as physician to the 
 fleet. He was afterwards sent to Lisbon, whither his 
 family followed him. When they returned to England, 
 young Harness, who was then in his twelfth year, was 
 placed at Harrow, where he had Lord Byron for his school- 
 fellow. From Harrow he proceeded to Christ's College, 
 Cambridge, where he took his degree. Shortly after he 
 was graduated he was ordained to the curacy of Kilmes- 
 ton, near Abresford. He soon received an appointment to 
 St. Pancras, London, where he entered the list of Shake- 
 spearian editors by an edition of his favorite poet. It was 
 published in 1825. A second edition, with plates, ap- 
 peared in 1830 ; and a third, with illustrations by Heath 
 and others, in 1833. Other editions, in different forms, 
 were issued in 1836, 1840, and 1842. In 1837 he pub- 
 lished a little story, " Reverses," in " Blackwood," which 
 his friend and early playfellow, Mary Russell Mitford, 
 pronounced delightful. He published also four volumes 
 of an edition of Massinger, and wrote a dramatic poem, 
 " The Wife of Antwerp," which he printed for private 
 circulation. 
 
 After Harness's removal to London he was made pri- 
 vate chaplain to the Dowager Countess of Delaware, and 
 became successively morning preacher at Trinity Chapel, 
 and minister and evening lecturer at St. Ann's, Soho.
 
 XJV PREFACE. 
 
 A note, jotted down incidentally, on the back of one of 
 his sermon cases in commemoration of some country vis- 
 itors, bears incidental testimony that he commanded the 
 confidence of the most eminent clergymen in the metrop- 
 olis : "September yth, 1823. I preached to-day at St. 
 George's, St. Pancras, and the Magdalen, and was heard 
 at each place by the same party from the country, who 
 went to St. George's to hear the Dean of Carlisle, to St. 
 Pancras to hear Moore, and to the Magdalen to hear 
 Pitman ! Poor creatures ! they were ignorant that the 
 great preachers are away in September!" In 1825 he 
 was appointed Minister of Regent Square Chapel, an 
 important and arduous post, which he occupied for nearly 
 twenty years. His success in the pulpit was the principal 
 cause of his being selected for it ; and during his time 
 the chapel was densely crowded, not only by parishioners, 
 but by members of other congregations. At a later 
 period a church was built for him at Knightsbridge. 
 His last literary labor was to edit the Letters and write 
 the " Life of Miss Mitford." 
 
 The end of Harness was a tragical one. In November, 
 1869, he made a visit into the country at the Deanery of 
 an old friend. He was well when he arrived, and spent 
 the greater portion of two days in reading Shakespeare. 
 The next day he walked for a considerable time up and 
 down the garden, and returning to the house by some new 
 stairs, remarked to the Dean, " When you are an old 
 man you '11 repent having placed those stairs there 1 " 
 His last hour was approaching. " Later in the day some 
 friends called, and a lady observed that he secim <! in un- 
 usually good spirits, and that, but for his slight deafness. 
 no one would have thought him an old man. He talked 
 with animation, and seemed to take as much interest as
 
 PREFACE. XV 
 
 ever in the affairs of life, although he observed, somewhat 
 sadly, that he had survived all his contemporary friends. 
 They left at six o'clock, and, the Dean having by this 
 time started to keep an engagement in St. Leonards, Mr. 
 Harness was left quite alone. At half -past six his ser- 
 vant came to the study to inform him that it was time to 
 prepare for dinner, when, to his consternation, he found 
 the room vacant ; and almost at the same time the butler, 
 who was going across the hall, was horrified at finding 
 Mr. Harness's body lying head-foremost at the bottom of 
 the stone stairs. He saw at once that he was dead ; his 
 head was lying in a pool of blood ; but his expression was 
 so peaceful and benign, the man said, that, although he 
 knew he was dead, he could almost have imagined he 
 was asleep. 
 
 " It seems probable that Mr. Harness left the study 
 when the light was uncertain, just before the lamps were 
 lit, and in the dusk did not observe the staircase. On 
 examination, it was found that the skull was severely 
 fractured." He died on the nth of November, 1869, in 
 his eightieth year. 
 
 Of George Hodder I know only what he has chosen 
 to tell regarding himself, which is next to nothing. 
 Sensible, modest, hard-working, he does not appear to 
 have been fortunate in his profession. His chief claim 
 to remembrance is that he was the amanuensis of Thack- 
 eray, when that great writer was composing his "Four 
 Georges." 
 
 From the recollections of this unknown man of letters, 
 and these well known English clergymen, the materials of 
 the present volume are drawn. Mr. Hodder's rambling 
 autobiography is entitled " Memoirs of my Time, includ- 
 ing Personal Reminiscences of Eminent Men " (London,
 
 xvi PREFACE. 
 
 1870). The biography of Byron's schoolfellow, "The 
 Literary Life of the Rev. William Harness " (London 
 1871), was written by the Rev. A. G. L'Estrange, a trusted 
 friend, who assisted him in collecting and arranging the 
 letters of Miss Mitford. The biography of the creator of 
 Ingoldsby, " The Life and Letters of the Rev. Richard 
 Harris Barham " (London 1870), was written by his son, 
 R. H. D. Barham. The substance of these volumes is 
 here presented, and I trust it will prove entertaining. 
 
 R. H. S.
 
 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM.
 
 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 THEODORE HOOK. 
 
 j|BOUT this time (1827) Mr. Barbara found opportuni- 
 ties of renewing his acquaintance with one, who, in 
 many respects, was to be ranked among the most ex- 
 traordinary men of his age Mr. Theodore Hook. 
 To say nothing of this gentleman's unequaled happiness in im- 
 promptu versification, conveying, as he not unfrequently did, a 
 perfect epigram in every stanza a talent, by the way, which 
 sundry rivals have affected to consider mere knack, and one of 
 whom long bore in his side the lethalis arundo of James Smith, 
 for his bungling effort at imitation ; to pass by those practical 
 jokes with which his name is so commonly associated, and in 
 the devising and perpetration of which he was facile priticeps, 
 Mr. Hook possessed depth and originality of mind, little 
 dreamed of, probably, by those who were content to bask in the 
 sunshine of his wit, and to gaze with wonder at the superficial 
 talents which he exhibited at table, but sufficient, nevertheless, 
 to place him far beyond the position of a mere sayer of good 
 things, or " diner-out of the first water." To those, indeed, 
 who have never been fortunate enough to witness those extraor- 
 dinary displays, no description can convey even a faint idea of 
 the brilliancy of his conversational powers, of the inexhaustible 
 prodigality with which he showered around puns, bon mots, 
 apt quotations, and every variety of anecdote ; throwing life 
 and humor into all by the exquisite adaptation of eye, tone, 
 and gesture to his subject. His writings, admirable as they
 
 2O RICHARD HARRIS BARUA.V. 
 
 are, fail to impress one in any way commensurate with his so- 
 ciety. 
 
 Of the few sketches of him that have been given in works of 
 fiction, not one can claim the merit of being more than a most 
 shadowy resemblance. It needs a graphic skill surpassing his 
 own to draw his portrait with any approach to correctness. 
 Nowhere, perhaps, is failure more conspicuous than in the mis- 
 erable and meagre attempt in " Coningsby." Not the faintest 
 glow of humor, not one flash of wit, not an ebullition of merri- 
 ment breaks forth from first to last ; the author, apparently in 
 utter incapacity for the task, contents himself with simply ob- 
 serving, " Here Mr. Lucian Gay (the name under which Hook 
 is introduced) was vastly amusing," "there he made the table 
 roar," etc., much in the manner of the provident artist, who, to 
 obviate mistake, affixed the notice to his painting, " This is 
 the lion this is the dog!" Of the moral portraiture I will 
 venture to say that it is as unjust as the intellectual is weak. 
 As regards the great calamity the defalcation at the Mau- 
 ritius which befell him in his youth, and which darkened the 
 remainder of his career, shutting out hope, paralyzing his best 
 energies, and by consequence inducing much of that reckless- 
 ness of living which served to embitter his privacy and hasten 
 his end, it may almost be unnecessary to say, that one who 
 continued to regard him with the feelings of affection which Mr. 
 Barham entertained to the last, must have had full reason for 
 believing him free from every imputation save that of careless- 
 ness, not wholly inexcusable in one so young, so inexperienced, 
 and so constitutionally light-hearted. 
 
 Of what appears to have been his first interview with his 
 old companion after their separation at college, my father gives 
 a somewhat detailed account : 
 
 " Ntrvember 6, 1827. Passed one of the pleasantest even- 
 ings I ever spent at Lord William Lennox's. The company, 
 besides the host and hostess, consisted of Mr. Cannon, Mr. 
 C. Walpole, Mr. Hill, generally known as 'Torn Hill,' Theo- 
 dore Hook, and myself. It was Hook's first visit there, and 
 none of the party but myself, Cannon, and Hill, who were old
 
 THEODORE HOOK. 21 
 
 friends of his, had ever seen him before. While at dinner, he 
 began to be excessively amusing. The subject of conversa- 
 tion was an absurdly bombastic prologue, which had been 
 given to Cooper of D. L. T., to get by heart, as a hoax, begin- 
 ning : 
 
 " ' When first the Drama's muse, by Freedom reared, 
 In Grecian splendor unadorned appeared, 
 Her eagle glance, high poised in buoyant hope 
 O'er realms restricted by no partial scope, 
 Saw one vast desert hoirify the scene ; 
 No bright oasis showed its mingling green, 
 But all around, in colors darkly rude, 
 Scowled forth the intellectual solitude! 
 And vain her heart till Time's translucent tide, 
 Like some sweet stream that scarcely seems to glide, 
 The heaven-engendered embers fanned to flame. 
 The ray burst forth ! Immortal Shakespeare came ! 
 'T was his with renovated warmth to glow, 
 To feel tint fire within ' that passelh show," 
 And nobly daring in a dastard age 
 To raise, reform, and dignify the stage ! 
 To force from lids unsullied by a tear 
 The pensive drops (hit bathe fond Juliet's b : er, 
 Bow the duped Moor o : er Desdemona's corse, 
 Or bid the blood-stained tyrant cry " A horse! " 
 Waft the rapt soul with more than seraph flight 
 From fair Itilia's realms of soft delight, 
 To mourn with Imogen her murdered lord, 
 Or bare the patriot stoic's vengeful sword, 
 To raise the poet's noblest cry " Be free ! " 
 To breathe the tocsin blast of " Liberty ! '' 'etc. 
 
 " Gattie, whose vanity is proverbial, was included in the joke. 
 Wallack, the stage-manager, who had the arranging of it, pro- 
 duced some equally ridiculous lines, which he said Poole, the 
 author of the new comedy (' The Wealthy Widow '), had written 
 for him, but that he had not sufficient nerve to deliver them. 
 
 " ' No man on the stage has such nerve as I,' interrupted 
 Gattie. 
 
 " ' Then it must be spoken in five characters ; the dresses to 
 be thrown off one after the other.' 
 
 " ' No performer can change his dress so quickly as I can,' 
 quoth Gattie.
 
 22 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM 
 
 "'Then I am afraid of the French dialect and the Irish 
 brogue.' 
 
 " ' I 'm the only Frenchman and Irishman -on the stage,' 
 roared Gattie. 
 
 " The hoax was complete, and poor Gattie sat up the whole 
 night to learn the epilogue ; went through three rehearsals 
 with five dresses on, one over the other, as a Lady, a Dutch- 
 man, a Highlander, a Teague, and lastly as ' Monsieur Tonson 
 come again.' All sorts of impediments were thrown in his 
 way. such as sticking his breeches to his kilt, etc. The time 
 at length arrived, when the stage-manager informed him with 
 a long face, that Coleman, the licenser, instigated no doubt by 
 Mathews, who trembled for his reputation, had refused to 
 license the epilogue ; and poor Gattie, after waiting during the 
 whole of the interlude in hopes that the license might yet come 
 down, was obliged to retire most reluctantly and disrobe. 
 
 " Hook took occasion from this story to repeat part of a pro- 
 logue which he once spoke as an amateur before a country 
 audience, without one word being intelligible from the begin- 
 ning to the end. He afterwards preached part of a sermon 
 in the style of the Rev. Mr. Fisher of Norwich, of whom he 
 gave a very humorous account. Not one sentence of the 
 harangue could be understood, and yet you could not help, all 
 through, straining your attention to catch the meaning. He 
 then gave us many absurd particulars of the Berners Street 
 hoax, which he admitted was contrived by himself and Henry 
 
 H , who was formerly contemporary with me at Brasenose 
 
 and whom I knew there, now a popular preacher at Poplar. 
 He also mentioned another of a similar character, but previous 
 in point of time, of which he had been the sole originator. The 
 object of it was a Mr. William Griffiths, a Quaker who lived 
 in Henrietta Street, Covent Garden. Among other things 
 brought to his house were the dresses of a Punch and nine 
 blue devils, and the Ixxly of a man from Lambeth bone-house, 
 who had the day before been drowned in the Thames. 
 
 " In the evening, after Lady Willi un had sung ' I 've been 
 roaming.' Hook placed himself at the pianoforte, and gave a
 
 THEODORE HOOK. 2$ 
 
 most extraordinary display of his powers both as a musician 
 and an improvisatore. His assumed object was to give a 
 specimen of the burlettas formerly produced at Sadler's 
 Wells, and he went through the whole of one which he com- 
 posed upon the spot. He commenced with the tuning of the 
 instruments, the prompter's bell, the rapping of the fiddle- 
 stick by the leader of the band, and the overture, till, the cur- 
 tain being supposed to rise, he proceeded to describe 
 
 " The first scene. A country village cottage (o. P.) 
 church (P. s.) large tree near wing bridge over a river oc- 
 cupying the centre of the background. Music. Little men 
 in red coats seen riding over bridge. Enter Gaffer from cot- 
 tage, to the symphony usually played on introducing old folks 
 on such occasions. Gaffer, in recitative, intimates that he is 
 aware that the purpose of the Squire in thus early 
 
 A crossing over the water, 
 Is to hunt, not the stag, but my lovely daughter. 
 
 Sings a song and retires, to observe Squire's motions, ex- 
 pressing a determination to balk his intentions ; 
 
 For a peasant 's a man, and a Squire 's no more, 
 And a father has feelings, though never so poor. 
 
 " Enter Squire with his train. Grand chorus of hunts- 
 men ' Merry-toned horn Blithe is the morn Hark, for- 
 ward, away ! Glorious Day,' ' Bright Phoebus,' ' Aurora,' 
 etc., etc. 
 
 " The Squire dismisses all save his confidant, to whom, in 
 recitative, he avows his design of carrying off the old man's 
 daughter, then sings under her window. The casement up 
 one pair of stairs opens. Susan appears at it, and sings 
 asking whether the voice which has been serenading her is 
 that of her 
 
 True blue Willia-n, who, on the seas, 
 Is b!own about by every breeze ? 
 
 " The Squire hiding behind the tree, she descends to satisfy 
 herself ; is accosted by him, and refuses his offer ; he at- 
 tempts force. The old man interferes, lectures the Squire, 
 locks up his daughter, and exit (p. s.). Squire sings a song
 
 24 RICHARD HARRIS BARIfAAf. 
 
 expressive ot rage and his determination to obtain the girl, and 
 erit (P. s.). 
 
 " Whistle Scene changes with a slap. Public-house 
 door ; sailors carousing, with long pig-tails, checked shirts, 
 glazed hats, and blue trousers. Chorus ' Jolly tars 
 Plough the main Kiss the girls Sea again.' William, in 
 recitative, states that he has been ' With brave Rodney,' and 
 has got ' gold galore ; ' tells his messmates he has heard a 
 land-lubber means to run away with his sweetheart, and asks 
 their assistance. They promise it : 
 
 Tip u* your fin ! We '11 stick t' ye, my hearty. 
 And beat him ! Hav' n't we beat Boneyparty ? 
 
 Sofa, by William, 'Girl of my heart Never part.' Chorus 
 of sailors 'Shiver my timbers,' 'Smoke and fire D n 
 the Squire,' etc., etc. (IVhistle Scene closes slap.) 
 
 "Scene the village as before. Enter Squire; recon- 
 noitres in recitative ; beckons on Gypsies, headed by confi- 
 dant in red. Chorus of Gypsies entering ' Hark ? hark ? 
 Butchers' dogs bark ! Bow, wow, wow Not now, not 
 now.' ' Silence, hush ! Behind the bush Hush ! hush ! 
 hush ! ' ' Bow, wow, wow.' ' Hush ! hush ! Bow, wow.' 
 ' Hush ! hush ! hush ! Enter Susan from cottage. Reci- 
 tative 
 
 What can keep father so long at market ? 
 The sun has set, nltlio' it 's not quite dark yet. 
 
 Butter and eggs, 
 
 Weary legs. 
 
 " Gypsies rush on and seize her ; she screams ; Squire 
 comes forward. Recitative Affettuoso She, scornful, im- 
 ploring, furious, frightened ! Squire offers to seize her ; 
 True Blue rushes down and interposes ; Music agitato ; 
 Sailors in pig-tails beat off Gypsies ; Confidant runs up the 
 tree ; True Blue collars Squire. Enter Gaffer : 
 
 Hey-day 1 what '* all this clatter : 
 
 William ashore why, wh.it 's the matter? 
 
 " William releases Squire ; turns to Sue ; she screams and 
 runs to him ; embrace ; ' Lovely Sue Own True Blue. 1
 
 THEODORE HOOK. 2$ 
 
 She faints ; Gaffer goes for gin ; she recovers and refuses it ; 
 Gaffer winks, and drinks it himself; Squire, Recitative 
 ' Never knew About True Blue Constant Sue.' ' Devil- 
 ish glad Here, my lad What says dad ? ' William, recita- 
 tive ' Thank ye, Squire Heart's desire Roam no more 
 Moored ashore.' Squire joins lovers ' Take her hand 
 house, and bit of land, my own ground 
 
 ' And for a portion here "s two hundred pound ' ' 
 
 Grand chorus ; huntsmen, gypsies, and sailors with pig-tails ; 
 Solo, Susan 'Constant Sue Own True Blue.' Chorus; 
 Solo, William 'Dearest wife laid up for life.' Chorus; 
 Solo, Squire ' Happy lovers truth discovers.' Chorus; 
 Solo, Gaffer ' Curtain draws your applause.' Grand 
 chorus ; huntsmen, gypsies, sailors in pig- tails ; William and 
 Susan in centre ; Gaffer (o. P.), Squire (P. s.), retire sing- 
 ing 
 
 Biithe and gay Hark away ! 
 
 Merry, merry May ; 
 
 Bill and Susan's wedding-day." 
 
 Such is a brief sketch of one of those extemporaneous 
 melodramas with which Hook, when in the vein, would keep 
 his audience in convulsions for the best part of an hour. Per- 
 haps, had his improvising powers been restricted to that 
 particular class of composition, the impromptu might have 
 been questioned ; but he more generally took for subjects of 
 his drollery the company present, never succeeding better 
 than when he had been kept in ignorance of the names of 
 those he was about to meet. But, at all times, the facility 
 with which he wrought in what had occurred at table, and the 
 points he made bearing upon circumstances impossible to 
 have been foreseen, afforded sufficient proof that the whole 
 was unpremeditated. Neither in this, nor in any other of his 
 conversational displays, was there anything of trickery or 
 effort. No abruptness was apparent in the introduction of an 
 anecdote ; there was no eager looking for an opportunity to 
 fire off a pun, and no anxiety touching the fate of what he had 
 said. In fact, he had none of the artifice of the professional
 
 26 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 wit about him, and none of that assumption and caprice which 
 minor " lions " exhibit so liberally to their admirers. It may 
 be fairly said, as he knew no rival, so he has left no suc- 
 cessor. 
 
 " Nature )o fece, e poi ruppe la stampa " 
 
 A kindred spirit and a similarity of style have been found 
 by critics in the writings that is to say, in the poetical com- 
 positions of Theodore Hook and Thomas Ingoldsby. And 
 here the latter would probably have had little to fear from a 
 comparison. Even in point of facility he was hardly, if at all, 
 inferior to his friend. I am not aware indeed that my father, 
 with a single exception, 1 ever attempted any extempore ef- 
 fusion, but pen in hand he would have hit off a dozen lively 
 stanzas on a given subject, with a rapidity equal to that of any 
 writer of the day. In conversation, dismissing all notion of 
 equality between the powers of the two, it may be observed 
 that, with some points of resemblance, a much greater diver- 
 sity of manner separated them than when their pleasantries 
 were expressed in rhyme. Mr. Barham uttered scarcely a 
 dozen puns in the course of his life. He loved rather to play 
 with a subject something after the manner of Charles Lamb ; 
 and his humor, always genial, was displayed in an agreeable 
 irony (in the stricter and inoffensive sense of the term) which 
 sometimes strangely perplexed matter-of-fact folks. Ready 
 and fluent in conversation, and having at command an un- 
 common fund of anecdote, upon which he would draw largely, 
 he possessed in addition one very valuable qualification he 
 was an excellent listener. In English literature he was well 
 read, and moreover displayed just enough of that old-fash- 
 ioned love of classical allusion and quotation to give a season- 
 ing to his discourse, and a certain refinement to his wit, which, 
 without exposing, him to the charge of pedantry, bespoke the 
 scholar and the man of taste. 
 
 "March 13, 1828. Lord W. Lennox, Sir Andrew Barnard, 
 Theodore Hook, Mr. Price, Capt. E. Smart, and Cannon dined 
 
 1 Once in the company of a few intimate friends, he wax induced to improvise a 
 V>MR which, with very little correction, was afterwards published * .Ifr. Same? .Va- 
 fm'rt'i Acct*mi o/ tkr Coconut ion.
 
 THEODORE HOOK. 27 
 
 here. The last told a story of a manager at a country theatre 
 who, having given out the play of ' Douglas,' found the whole 
 entertainment nearly put to a stop by the arrest of Young 
 Norval as he was entering the theatre. In this dilemma, no 
 other performer of the company being able to take the part, 
 he dressed up a tall, gawky lad who snuffed the candles, in a 
 plaid and philabeg, and pushing him on the stage, advanced 
 himself to the footlights with the book in his hand, and ad- 
 dressed the audience with, ' Ladies and Gentlemen, 
 
 ' '1 his young gentleman's name is Norval. On the Grampian hills 
 His father feeds his flock, a frugal swaiu, 
 Whose constant care was to increase his store, 
 And keep his only son (this young gentleman) at home. 
 For this young gentleman had heard of battles, and he longed 
 To follow to the field some warlike lord ; 
 
 And Heaven soon granted what : this young gentleman's sire denied. 
 The moon which rose last night, round as this gentleman's shield. 
 Had not yet filled her horns,' etc. 
 
 And so on through the whole of the play, much to the de- 
 lectation of the audience. 1 
 
 " In the evening Hook went to the piano, and played and 
 sang a long extempore song, principally leveled against Can- 
 non, who had gone up earlier than the rest, and fallen asleep 
 on the sofa in the drawing-room. Sir Andrew Barnard, who 
 now met the former for the first time, expressed a wish to 
 witness more of his talent as an improvisatore, and gave him 
 Sir Christopher Wren as a subject, on which he infmediately 
 commenced, and sang, without a moment's hesitation, twenty 
 or thirty stanzas to a different air, all replete with humor." 
 
 " March 23, 1828. Dined at Sir Andrew Barnard's in the 
 Albany. The party consisted of Theodore Hook, Price, Can- 
 non, Lord Graves, Lord W. Lennox, Col. Armstrong, Walpole, 
 and myself. Sir Andrew was called away to attend the King, 
 but returned before ten. In the mean time an unpleasant alter- 
 
 1 In this anecdote, which rests on the authority of a celebrated singer who told it to 
 Cannon as having been herself present at the representation, will be recognized the 
 subject of one of the older Mathews's most successful scenas ; it was repeated by 
 Mr. Barham to Mr. Peake, who introduced it in Afatftewf's Comic A ttnuai for
 
 28 RICHARD HARRK BAR HAM. 
 
 cation took place between Cannon and Hook, owing to an allu- 
 sion, somewhat ill-timed, made by the former to ' treasury de- 
 faulters.' This circumstance interrupted the harmony of the 
 evening, and threw a damp upon the party. Hook made but 
 one pun ; on Walpole's remarking that, of two paintings men- 
 tioned, one was ' a shade above the other in point of merit,' 
 he replied, ' I presume you mean to say it was a shade over 
 (chef (Tauvre)! " 
 
 "September 6, 1828. Called at Hook's on my return from 
 the Isle of Thanet. Mr. Powell there ; then came in a Mr. 
 
 E , an Irish barrister, rich and stingy, from whom Hook 
 
 afterwards told me he had taken his character of Gcrvase 
 Skinner, in the third series of ' Sayings and Doings.' He 
 mentioned, in proof of the saving propensities of this gentle- 
 man, that on a visit to Dover Castle with the Crokers he was 
 about to leave without offering anything to the sergeant who 
 had attended them, when Mrs. Croker, observing the omission, 
 borrowed half a crown from her friend, in the absence of her 
 husband, for the purpose of rewarding the man. This she 
 repaid at the hotel before going down to dinner. But Mr. 
 
 E , making many excuses, affected to be half-affronted at 
 
 her insisting on discharging the debt, and with becoming in- 
 dignation threw the coin upon the table, There it lay till the 
 waiter announced dinner, when offering his left arm to the 
 lady, hcaontrived in passing to slip the piece of money unob- 
 served as he thought off the table with his right hand, and 
 deposit it in his breeches pocket. 
 
 " Hook told us an amusing story of his going down to 
 Worcester, to see his brother the dean, with Henry Hig- 
 gin.son (his companion in many of his frolics). They arrived 
 separately at the coach, and taking their places in the inside, 
 opposite to each other, pretended to be strangers. After some 
 time they begin to hoax their fellow-travellers the one af- 
 fecting to see a great many things not to be seen, the other 
 confirming it and admiring them. 
 
 14 ' What a beautiful house that on the hill ! ' cried Hi-u'in- 
 non, when no house was near the spot ; ' it must command ;i
 
 THEODORE HOOK'. 29 
 
 most magnificent prospect from the elevation on which it 
 stands.' 
 
 " ' Why, yes,' returned Hook, ' the view must be extensive 
 enough, but I cannot think these windows in good taste ; to 
 run out bay windows in a gothic front, in my opinion, ruins the 
 effect of the whole building.' 
 
 " ' Ah ! that is the new proprietor's doings,' was the reply, 
 ' they were not there when the marquis had possession.' 
 Here one of their companions interfered ; he had been stretch- 
 ing his neck for some time, in the vain hope of getting a 
 glimpse of the mansion in question, and now asked, 
 
 " ' Pray, sir, what house do you mean ? I don't see any 
 house.' 
 
 " ' That, sir, with the turrets and large bay windows on the 
 hill,' said Hook, with profound gravity, pointing to a thick 
 wood.' 
 
 " ' Dear me,' returned the old gentleman, bobbing about to 
 catch the desired object, ' I can't see it for those confounded 
 trees.' 
 
 " The old gentleman, luckily for them, proved an indefatiga- 
 ble asker of questions, and the answers he received of course 
 added much to. his stock of authentic information. 
 
 " ' Pray, sir, do you happen to know to whom that house 
 belongs ? ' inquired he, pointing to a magnificent mansion and 
 handsome park in the distance. 
 
 " ' That, sir,' replied Hook, ' is Womberly Hall, the seat of 
 Sir Abraham Hume, which he won at billiards from the Bishop 
 of Bath and Wells.' 
 
 " ' You don't say so ! ' cried the old gentleman, in pious hor- 
 ror, and taking out his pocket-book begged his informant to 
 repeat the name of the seat, which he readily did, and it was 
 entered accordingly the old gentleman shaking his head 
 gravely the while, and bewailing the profligacy of an age in 
 which dignitaries of the church practiced gambling to so alarm- 
 ing an extent. 
 
 " The frequt,r ,.y of the remarks, however, made by the asso- 
 ciates on objects which the eyesight of no one else was good
 
 30 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 trough to take in began at length to excite some suspicion, 
 and Hook's breaking suddenly into a raptuous exclamation at 
 'the magnificent burst of the ocean !' in the midst of an in- 
 land country, a Wiltshire farmer, who had been for some time 
 staring alternately at them and the window, thrust out his head, 
 and after reconnoitring for a couple of minutes drew it in again, 
 and looking full in the face of the sea-gazer, exclaimed with 
 considerable emphasis, 
 
 " ' Well, now then, I 'm d d if I think you can see the 
 ocean, as you call it, for all you pretends' and continued 
 very sulky the rest of the way." 
 
 "' December 8, 1828. Called on Hook. In the course of 
 conversation he gave me an account of his going to Lord Mel- 
 ville's trial with a friend. They went early, and were engaged 
 in conversation when the peers began to enter. At this mo- 
 ment a country-looking lady, whom he afterwards found to be 
 a resident at Rye, in 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 young- 
 est, you know) always goes first. Tell her to be sure and re- 
 member that when we get home.' 
 
 '" Dear me, Ma,'' said Louisa, 'can that gentleman be one 
 of the youngest f I am sure he looks very old.' 
 
 "' Human nature, added Hook, 'could not stand this ; any 
 one, though with no more mischief in him than a dove, must 
 have been excited to a hoax. 
 
 "' And pray, sir,' continued the lady, 'what gentlemen are 
 these ? ' pointing to the Bishops, who came next in order, in 
 the dress which they wear on state occasions, namely the 
 rochet and lawn sleeves over their doctor's robes. 
 
 "' Gentlemen, madam ! " said Hook, "these are not gentle-
 
 THEODORE HOOK, 31 
 
 men : these are ladies elderly ladies the dowager peeresses 
 in their own right. " 
 
 " ' The fair inquirer fixed a penetrating glance upon his coun- 
 tenance, saying, as plainly as an eye can say, " Are you quizzing 
 me or no ? " Not a muscle moved ; till at last, tolerably well 
 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 Com- 
 mons attracted her attention by the rich embroidery of his 
 robes. 
 
 " ' Pray, sir,' said she, ' and who is that fine-looking per- 
 son opposite ? ' 
 
 " ' That, madam,' was the answer, is Cardinal Wolsey ! " 
 
 " ' Now, sir ! ' cried the lady, drawing herself up, and cast- 
 ing at her informant a look of angry disdain, 'we knows a little 
 better than that ; Cardinal Wolsey has been dead a good 
 year ! ' 
 
 " ' No such thing, my dear madam, I assure you,' replied 
 Hook, with a gravity that must have been almost preter- 
 natural ; ' it has been, I know, so reported in the country, but 
 without the least foundation ; in fact, those rascally newspa- 
 pers will say anything.' 
 
 " The good old gentlewoman appeared thunderstruck, 
 opened her eyes to their full extent, and gasped like a dying 
 carp ; vox faucibus hossit seizing a daughter with each hand, 
 she hurried without another word from the spot." 
 
 Mr. Hook has been accused of a tolerably strong leaning to 
 superstition ; one instance in particular is given by Mrs. Math- 
 ews, in the memoirs of her husband, of the ludicrous advan- 
 tage taken by the latter of this weakness, to turn the tables on 
 his fomer tormentor. His biographer in " The Quarterly " also 
 alluc'es to indications of a similar feeling apparent in the diary 
 to which he had access ; but for these concurrent testimonies, 
 one might be apt to refer the following statement to that love 
 of mystification in which this singular being was so profound
 
 32 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAV. 
 
 an adept Mr. Barham, however, always believed him to have 
 spoken in perfect good faith ; and certainly the circumstances 
 of the story in question, supported, as they are, by most re- 
 spectable authority, have more than common claims on the at- 
 tention of the skeptical. 
 
 The date of the interview is not given, but it must have 
 been between September 6th and December 8th of this year. 
 
 " Met Hook in the Burlington Arcade ; walked with him to 
 the British Museum. As we passed down Great Russell 
 Street, Hook paused oo arriving at Charlotte Street, Bedford 
 Square, and, pointing to the northwest corner, nearly oppo- 
 site the house (the second from the corner) in which he him- 
 self was born, observed, 
 
 "' There, by that lamp-post, stood Martha the gypsy ! ' * 
 
 " ' Yes,' I replied, ' I know that is the spot on which you 
 make her stand.' 
 
 " 'It is the spot,' rejoined Hook, seriously, 'on which she 
 actually did stand ; ' and he went on to say that he entertained 
 no doubt whatever as to the truth of the story ; that he had 
 simply given the narrative as he had heard it from one (Major 
 Darby) who was an eye-witness of the catastrophe, and was 
 present when the extraordinary noise was heard on the even- 
 ing previous to the gentleman's decease. He added, that he 
 was intimately acquainted with the individual who had ex- 
 perienced the effects of Martha's malediction, and whose name 
 was Hough. He said, further, that he had merely heightened 
 the first accident, which had been but a simple fracture of the 
 leg, occasioned by his starting at the sight of the gypsy, and so 
 slipping off the curb-stone ; but that in all other main inci- 
 dents he had adhered strictly to fact." 
 
 "Diary: August 18, 1835. Took young Tom Haffenden 
 over with me to Captain Williams's at Strand-on-Green, and 
 went with him and Theodore Hook to Twickenham, fishing ; 
 caught little or nothing. Hook observed that as we often had 
 fish without roc, now we must be content with rou< without 
 fish. Gave excellent imitation of the Duke of Cumberland 
 and Colonel Quentin. 
 
 1 ' 'itft Kim Scrie <>f S>tjn'*ft and Doittgt-
 
 THEODORE HOOK. 33 
 
 " Story of Lord Middleton, out hunting, calling to Gunter, 
 the confectioner, to ' hold hard ' and not ride over the hounds. 
 ' My horse is so hot, my lord, that I don't know what to do 
 with him.' ' Ice him, Gunter ; ice him.' 
 
 " Dined at Williams's afterwards. Hook in high spirits, 
 and full of anecdote. Stories of Grattan, C. Fox, and Mar- 
 quis of Hertford. The latter said after all his expenses were 
 paid he had 95,ooo/. per annum he did not know what to do 
 with ; yet Hook said he questioned much whether, intimate as 
 they were, and kind as he always was to him, he would lend 
 him or any other friend a thousand pounds. At his fetes the 
 dinners always ordered at two guineas and a half a head, ex- 
 clusive of wine. Duke of Buccleugh, on the other hand, with 
 a yearly income of I72,ooo/., not a rich man ; his property 
 consumed by his houses ; can go to Scotland by easy stages, 
 stopping always to sleep at some place of his own. 
 
 "The house in-which I used to visit F. Gosling, the banker, 
 at Twickenham, namely, that with the octagon room once oc- 
 cupied by Louis Philippe, the one alluded to in ' Gilbert 
 Gurney.' The wealthy citizen described as at Hill's dinner in 
 the same, an imaginary character ; the others, Dubois and 
 Mathews. 
 
 " Hook assured me with the greatest seriousness that on his 
 return from the Mauritius he and six or seven more on board 
 had seen the ' Flying Dutchman ; ' that is, that at a time 
 when they could scarce keep up a rag of canvas for the hurri- 
 cane, a large ship bore down on the opposite tack, seemingly 
 in the wind's eye, with all her sails set, and apparently at the 
 distance of not more than half a mile. He told a story of. a 
 gentleman driving his Irish servant in his cab, and saying to 
 him, half jocularly, half in anger, 
 
 " ' If the gallows had it 's due, you rascal, where would you 
 be now ? ' 
 
 " ' Faith, then, your honor, it 's riding in this cab I 'd be, all 
 alone by myself may be ! ' 
 
 " He also mentioned that last week an old Irishwoman came 
 to St. George's Hospital to fetch away the body of her husband,
 
 34 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 who had recently died. Not expecting it to be claimed, the 
 surgeons had been to work and had cut off the head, as well 
 as those of half a dozen more, for phrenological investigation. 
 Some confusion was occasioned by the old woman's demand, 
 as they did not know precisely which head belonged to any 
 specific corpse. 
 
 ' Had your husband any mark you would know him by?' 
 was asked. 
 
 "' Oh ! then sure he had ; he had a scar on his right ar- 
 rum.' 
 
 " The body, of course, was identified at once ; but to find the 
 right head was not so easy, especially as most of them had 
 been a good deal disfigured. At last one was found that 
 seemed to fit better than the others, and it was carefully sewn 
 on. When the woman was admitted she at once recognized 
 the scar, which was rather a remarkable one ; but when she 
 looked at the face, ' Oh ! murder,' she cried, ' and it 's death 
 that alters one entirely, it is ! My poor Dennis had carroty 
 hair, and now the head of him is as black as a tom-cat ! ' This 
 Hook said he had from Keate the surgeon, who declared it to 
 be true." 
 
 ''Diary: Wednesday, August 21, 1839. Hook drove me 
 down to Thames Ditton, from his house at Fulham. Fished 
 all day, and dined tete-a-tete at the Swan. He felt but poorly, 
 and complained much of a cough which he said they told him 
 proceeded from the deranged state of his liver, and drank only 
 a tumbler of sherry and water, our dinner consisting of a dish 
 of eels and a duck. Though not in health, his spirits were as 
 good as ever. We caught eight dozen and a half of gudgeons, 
 and he repeated to me almost as many anecdotes. Among the 
 DC of a trick he played when a boy behind the scenes of 
 the Haymarket. He was there one evening, during the heat of 
 the Westminster election, at the representation of ' The Wood 
 Demon,' and observing the prompter with the large speaking 
 trumpet in his hand, used to produce the supernatural voices 
 incidental to the piece, he watched him for some time, and saw 
 him go through the business more than once. As the effect
 
 RICHARD HARRIS BAR HAM. 35 
 
 was to be repeated, he requested of the man to be allowed to 
 make the noise for him ; the prompter incautiously trusted him 
 with the instrument, when, just at the moment the ' Fiend ' 
 rose from the trap, and the usual roar was to accompany his 
 appearance, ' SHERIDAN FOR EVER ! ! ! ' was bawled out in the 
 deepest tones that could be produced not more to the aston- 
 ishment of the audience, than to the confusion of the involun- 
 tary partisan himself, from whom they seemed to proceed. 
 
 " He mentioned also a reply that he made to the Duke of 
 Rutland, who, observing him looking about the hall, as they 
 were leaving the Marquis of Hertford's, asked him what he 
 had lost ? 
 
 " ' My hat ; if I had as good a beaver (Belvoir), as your 
 Grace, I should have taken better care of it." 
 
 " Close to the Swan, the house at which we had dined, is 
 Boyle Farm, the residence of Sir Edward Sugden, whose 
 father was a hairdresser. The place is splendidly fitted up, 
 and in the hall is a beautiful vase of very rich workmanship. 
 Hook said that when he and Croker went to dine there one 
 day by invitation from Sir Edward, their host happened to 
 meet them in the hall, and on their stopping for a moment to 
 admire this fine specimen of art, he told them that it was a 
 fac-simile of the celebrated one known as the Warwick vase. 
 ' Aye,' returned Croker, ' it is very handsome ; but don't you 
 think a copy of the Barberini one would be more appropriate ? ' 
 a question the wit of which will hardly atone for its ill- 
 nature. 
 
 "The Chartists had visited St. Paul's on the preceding Sun- 
 day in a body, to show ' a strong demonstration of physical 
 force ; ' I had mentioned that the Marquis of Westminster 
 was present, on which Hook said that nobleman had recently 
 received an invitation from a particular friend, couched in the 
 following terms : 
 
 "'DEAR WESTMINSTER, Come and dine with me to-mor- 
 row. You will meet London, Chelsea, and the two Parks. 
 
 " ' Yours, etc.'
 
 36 RICHARD HARRIS BARIUM. 
 
 Whether Theodore Hook and his great rival, Mr. Sydney 
 Smith, ever met in society, I do not know ; if they did, it 
 must have been towards the close of their career, when the 
 habitual caution of acknowledged wits in the presence of one 
 another, would probably have prevented any unusual display 
 on either side. An arrangement was made for the purpose of 
 bringing them together at the table of a common friend, but, 
 alas ! a tailor, 
 
 1 What dire mishaps from trivial causes spring! ' 
 
 one to whom Hook owed a considerable sum, having failed in 
 the interval, the latter was unable, or indisposed, to keep the 
 appointment. The circumstance served to elicit one of those 
 happy strokes of sarcasm which the Canon dealt so adroitly. 
 
 Mr. H , the host, not aware of the cause of his expected 
 
 guest's detention, delayed dinner for some time, observing 
 that 'he was sure Hook would come, as he had seen him in 
 the course of the afternoon, at the Anthenaeum, evidently 
 winding himself up for the encounter with tumblers of cold 
 brandy and water.' 
 
 " That 's hardly fair," said Smith, " I can't be expected to be 
 a match for him, unless wound up too, so when your servant 
 
 ushers in Mr. Hook, let Mr. H 's Punch be announced at 
 
 the same time." 
 
 It was, I believe, at the breaking up of the same party, that 
 one of the company having said he was about to ' drop in ' at 
 Lady Blessington's, a young gentleman, a perfect stranger to 
 him, said, with the most " gallant modesty," 
 
 " Oh ! then you can take me with you ; I want very much to 
 know her, and you can introduce me." 
 
 While the other was standing aghast at the impudence of 
 the proposal, and muttering something about being Init a 
 slight acquaintance himself," and " not knowing very well how 
 he could take such a liberty," etc., Sydney Smith observed, 
 
 " Pray oblige our young friend ; you can do it easily enough 
 by introducing him in a capacity very desirable at this close 
 season of the year say you are bringing with you the cool oi 
 the evening."
 
 THEODORE HOOK. 37 
 
 "Diary: November 21, 1840. The Queen was this day 
 brought to bed of the Princess Royal, and I carried the news 
 down to Fulham, where I dined with Hook, Francis Broderip, 
 and Major Shadwell Clarke. The latter expressed himself 
 much annoyed at the infant's being a girl, as there would be 
 no brevet. 
 
 " Hook mentioned several anecdotes of his early life ; 
 among others, he said that the day on which he was first sent 
 down to Harrow school, Lord Byron, who was there at the 
 time, took him into the square, showed him a window at 
 which Mrs. Drury was undressing, gave him a stone, and bid 
 him ' knock her eye out with it.' Hook threw the stone, and 
 broke the window. Next morning there was a great 'row' 
 about it, and Byron, coming up to him, said, 
 
 " ' Well, my fine fellow, you 've done it ! She had but one 
 eye (the truth), and it's gone ! ' Hook's funk was indescrib- 
 able. 
 
 " He said that my old friend Cecil Tattersall, whom I knew 
 at Canterbury and at Christ Church, was at that time there ; 
 he was very intimate with Byron, and had the sobriquet of 
 ' Punch Tattersall.' 
 
 " He spoke in .the course of the evening of his two eldest 
 daughters, of whom Mary, the senior, had just turned twenty- 
 one ; the name of the second was Louisa, and he designated 
 them accordingly as ' Vingt-un ' and 'Loo!' He read us a 
 letter also from his eldest son in India, who had just got his 
 commission there, at the age of seventeen. It was full of fun, 
 and showed much of his father's talent, together with a great 
 deal of good feeling. 
 
 " Another of his stories was of Sir George Warrender, who 
 was once obliged to put off a dinner party in consequence of 
 the death of a relative, and sat down to a haunch of venison 
 by himself. While eating, he said to his butler : 
 
 41 ' John, this will make a capital hash to-morrow.' 
 
 " ' Yes, Sir George, if you leave off now ! ' ' 
 
 The following entry is without date. The dinner, however, 
 which it commemorates, must have been given in the course of
 
 38 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM 
 
 the year 1840. Its main object was to make known Hook and 
 Haliburton, the author of " Sam Slick," to each other. 
 
 " Dined at Bentley's. There were present, Hook, Halibur- 
 ton, Jerdan, Moran, and my son. Hook told us several anec- 
 dotes, among others one of Sir George Warrender, and said 
 that on one occasion that worthy baronet, wishing to go to 
 Plymouth, inquired of John Wilson Croker, the Secretary to 
 the Admiralty, of which Sir George was one of the lords, 
 
 " ' Come, Mr. Secretary, you understand these things 
 which is my best route ? ' 
 
 " Croker described the line, mentioning the towns he rec- 
 ommended him to pass through ; ' and then,' said he, ' not to 
 return like a dog by the same round you went, you can come 
 home through Wiltshire, and see Stonehenge on your way.' 
 
 " ' Oh, no,' said the baronet, ' I have no patience with the 
 man. Ever since he tacked on that name to his own, for the 
 sake of the estate, he has become so insufferably conceited 
 that I never wish to see him again ! ' 
 
 "It is supposed that Sir George here alluded to Mr. Hen- 
 eage, M. P. for Devizes, whose name he was confounding with 
 that of the ancient Druidical monument. 
 
 "In the course of the evening, Hook, looking at my son, 
 said to me, ' How old these young fellows make us feel ! It 
 was but the other day that chap was standing at my knee, 
 listening to my stories with ears, eyes, and mouth wide open, 
 and now he is a man, I suppose ? ' 
 
 " ' Yes,' I said, ' he is three or four and twenty.' 
 
 "' Ah, I see, Vingt-un overdrawn.' " 
 
 "May 5, 1841. Dinner party here : Lord Nugent, Fitzroy 
 Stanhope, Sergeant Talfourd, John Adolphus, Theodore Hook, 
 Dr. White, Frank Fladgate, George Raymond, and Dick. 
 
 Anecdote told of the marriage of the Hon. Mr. D , son of 
 
 Lord G : ' As the happy pair were starting on their wed- 
 ding tour, the lady's maid was for putting a huge bandbox into 
 
 the carriage. Mr. D was about to make room for it. at 
 
 some little inconvenience, when an old French valet who had 
 long lived in the family touched his young master's elbow and
 
 THEODORE HOOK. 39 
 
 said softly, " No, no, sare ! turn him out ; bandbox to-day, 
 bandbox all your life ! " '" 
 
 This was the last time that Theodoore Hook dined at 
 Amen Corner ; he was unusually late, and dinner was served 
 before he made his appearance. Mr. Barham apologized for 
 having sat down without him, observing that he had quite given 
 him up, and had supposed " that the weather had deterred 
 him." 
 
 " Oh ! " replied Hook, " I had determined to come weather 
 or no." 
 
 He eat literally nothing but one large slice of cucumber, 
 but seemed in tolerable spirits ; and towards the end of the 
 evening, the slight indications of effort which were at first 
 visible had completely disappeared. Lord Nugent, who had 
 never met him before, was exceedingly desirous of hearing one 
 of his extempore songs, but my father, certain that he was ill, 
 interfered and saved him that exertion. From this time his 
 disease made rapid progress, and he dined from home but twice 
 afterwards, once at Lord Harrington's, and once, I believe, 
 with his friend Major Clarke. Mr. Barham saw him but once 
 again ; on July 29, about a month before his decease, the former 
 spent the morning with him at Fulham. 
 
 To Richard Bentley, Esq. 
 
 " MARGATE, A ugust26, 1841. 
 
 " MY DEAR BENTLEY, Dick's letter and yours had but too 
 well prepared me for the melancholy event announced in your 
 last. Poor fellow ! I little thought when I shook his hand at 
 parting that it was the last time I should ever grasp it. The 
 whole thing, indeed, has quite upset me. All my oldest and 
 best friends seem dropping off one by one. Poor Cannon was 
 the first to go, James Smith, Bacon, Tom Hill, and now Hook, 
 the one whom I had known the longest and spent the most 
 pleasant hours with of them all ! In our college days, 't is true, 
 I saw comparatively little of him (for he was only two terms 
 at St. Mary's Hall), and then his voyage to the Mauritius sepa- 
 rated us ; but since his return, about twenty years ago, we have
 
 4O RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 ever been on the most friendly terms of intimacy and, I believe, 
 mutual regard. The world believes him older than he was ; 
 his birth took place in September, 1789, consequently he would 
 have been fifty-three had he lived a month longer. Independ- 
 ent of the loss to his private friends, I consider his death just 
 at this juncture a public calamity. * Barnes gone ! and Hook 
 gone ! the two ablest, beyond all comparison, of the advocates 
 of civil order and all that is valuable in our institutions. For 
 myself the shadow of a shade never intervened during our long 
 intercourse to cloud our friendship for a moment. I have seen 
 him at times irritable, and sometimes, though rarely and only 
 when other circumstances had combined to ruffle him,,disposed 
 to take offense with others; with myself never/ and it is a 
 source of sincere satisfaction to me at this moment that I can- 
 not recall even an expression of momentary petulance that 
 ever escaped either to the other. Among all his numerous ac- 
 quaintance and friends there are none who will regret him more 
 sincerely. Most faithfully yours, 
 
 " R. H. BARHAM." 
 
 To Richard Bcntley, Esq. 
 
 "MARGATE, August V), 1841. 
 
 " MY DEAR BENTLEV, Since my return from the business 
 which so exclusively occupied my attention this morning, I have 
 thought much and anxiously as to the best mode of proceed- 
 ing in this business of poor Hook's, so as at once to secure 
 your object of not being anticipated and at the same time avoid 
 anything that may be premature or indelicate. If you were 
 
 a stranger to Mr. B , the step I should recommend would 
 
 be a different one from that which, after mature consideration, 
 I would now suggest ; but you have already been in negotia- 
 tion with him on Mathews's account, which seems to me to 
 make the interference, in the first instance, of a third party 
 between you, strange and inexpedient. I would, first of all, 
 write him immediately some such letter as that of which I 
 
 inclose a draft As I have before observed, B- is not a 
 
 man to do anything in a hurry, and Mr. Shackell will in all
 
 THEODORE HOOK. 41 
 
 probability, or Mrs. Hook herself, have broken ground for you 
 and led him to expect some application on your part. Your 
 letter will, of course, produce an immediate reply, and act, I 
 have no doubt, as a preventive against any movement of the 
 kind you seem to anticipate from that or any other quarter. 
 If you think my interference would be of the slightest use af- 
 terwards, I would either write, or, what would be I think a 
 
 better way of going to work, see B immediately on my 
 
 return ; but I do not think he is a man likely to yield to influ- 
 ence of any kind in a matter of this sort. Before you see him 
 you should, if possible, make up your mind as to whose hands 
 you would confide the task, so as to be able to submit the 
 name or names, if you like to give him a choice of them, to 
 him, for depend upon it this is a question he would be sure to 
 ask. If you decide upon Croker there can be no question 
 that the two names would. insure a very large sale ; and Cro- 
 ker's regard to his friend, if, in order to keep his memory out 
 of inefficient or injudicious hands, he would be induced to 
 undertake the work at all, would insure its being done rather 
 more with a view to the credit of Hook himself and benefit of 
 his children than to personal profit. If you can't get Croker, 
 what think you of Jerdan ? He was intimate with him for a 
 great number of years, would handle the subject with tact and 
 good-nature, and would I think do it well. It should certainly 
 be some one personally acquainted with Hook's humors and 
 peculiarities, and be at the same time a practiced hand. Of 
 course all the assistance I can give you you may command, 
 both in furnishing you with what matter recollection may sup- 
 ply, and in any general supervision, as in the Mathews case, 
 you may think worth having. 
 
 " We have had a good collection to-day 8/. more than last 
 year ; the church much crowded. Remember me to Roberts 
 
 and let me hear from you as to B , and the result of your 
 
 communication with him ; especially let me know the day of 
 poor Hook's funeral if you can ascertain it, and believe me, 
 as ever, most truly yours, 
 
 "R. H. BARHAM."
 
 42 K1C1IARD HARRIS BARIIAU. 
 
 " It was on the 29th of last month that I shook poor Hook's 
 hand for the last time." 
 
 To Mrs. Hughes. 
 
 "MARGATE, Sefttmbtri, i<5 4 i. 
 
 ' MY DEAR FRIEND, You c'o me no more than justice in 
 supposing that the loss of my poor friend would indeed cast a 
 gloom over me ; in fact it came upon me like a thunder-clap, 
 and I even yet can scarcely believe it real. On Monday, the 
 29th of July, I went down to Fulham, and spent the whole 
 morning with him, having heard that he was out of sorts, and 
 wishing to see him before I came down here, where I had 
 promised to preach a sermon for the benefit of " The Sea- 
 bathing Infirmary." That (fay month was the day of his 
 funeral ! I dreamt of no such thing then, for though I could 
 not persuade him to taste even the fowl which we had for 
 luncheon, yet his spirits were so high, and his countenance 
 wore so completely its usual expression, that I thought him 
 merely laboring under one of those attacks of bilious indiges- 
 tion, through so many of which I had seen him fight his way, 
 and which I trusted the run to the sea-side, in which he com- 
 monly indulged at this time of the year, would entirely re- 
 move. 
 
 " I was, I confess, a little startled when he told me that he 
 had not tasted solid food for three days, but had lived upon 
 effervescent draughts, of gentian or columba, taken alternately 
 with rum and milk, and Guinness's porter. There was some- 
 thing in this mixture of medicine, food, and tonic, with the 
 stimulants which I knew he took besides, though he said 
 nothing about them, that gave me some apprehension as to 
 whether the regimen he was pursuing was a right one, and I 
 pressed him strongly to have further advice than that of the 
 apothecary (an old friend who had attended him for many 
 years), and not to risk a life so valuable to his family, as well 
 as to his friends, on a point of punctilious delicacy. He prom- 
 ised me that if he was not better in a day or two, he would 
 certainly do so.
 
 THEODORE HOOK. 43 
 
 " He went on to speak of some matters of business con- 
 nected with the novel he was employed on, part of which he 
 read to me ; and much, my dear friend, as you, in common 
 with the rest of the world, have enjoyed his writings, I do 
 assure you the effect of his humor and wit was more than 
 doubled, when the effusions of his own genius were given 
 from his own mouth. Never was he in better cue, and his 
 expressive eye reveled in its own fun. I shall never forget 
 it! 
 
 " We got afterwards on miscellaneous subjects, and then he 
 was still the Theodore Hook I had always known, only altered 
 from him of our college days by the increased fund of anec- 
 dote which experience and the scenes he had since gone 
 through had given him. There was the same good-nature 
 which was one of the most distinguishing characteristics of 
 his mind ; indeed it has so happened that, intimate as has 
 been our friendship for the last twenty years, since his. return 
 from the Mauritius renewed the connection of our earlier 
 days, I have been but rarely a witness to that bitter and cut- 
 ting sarcasm of which he had perfect command, and could 
 employ without scruple when provoked. The reason of this, 
 perhaps, may be that, frequently as we met, it was either in a 
 quiet stroll or dinner by ourselves, or in the society of a few 
 intimate friends, all of whom loved and regarded each other 
 too well to give occasion for the slightest ebullition of temper. 
 The only instances I can call to mind in which he has given 
 way to any severity of expression have ever been in mixed 
 company, and generally (with one single exception, perhaps, I 
 might say universally), when undue liberties, taken by those 
 whose acquaintance with him was not sufficient to justify the 
 familiarity, drew from him a rebuff which seldom make a sec- 
 ond one necessary. His friends could not provoke him. 
 
 " He read to me a letter from his son in India, a young man 
 not yet of age, written with much of the peculiar humor of his 
 father, combined with a degree of good feeling and affection 
 amply justifying that extreme attachment which the latter had 
 always felt for him. Never, I am persuaded, was a parent
 
 44 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 fonder of his children, and the way in which he now spoke to 
 me of this one (for whom Majoribanks had about a year ago 
 procured a commission in India), the traits he mentioned of 
 his character, and the delight with which he dwelt upon them, 
 were, from reasons to which I need scarcely allude, calculated 
 to make no slight impression upon his auditor. 
 
 " After more than three hours spent in a tete-ei-tete, I got 
 up to leave him, and then, for the first time, remarked that the 
 dressing-gown he wore seemed to sit on him more loosely 
 than usual ; I said, as I shook his hand, for the last time, 
 
 " ' Why, my dear Hook, this business seems to have pulled 
 you more than I had perceived.' 
 
 " ' Pulled me ! ' said he, ' you may well say that ; look here,' 
 and, opening his gown, it was not without a degree of painful 
 surprise, that I saw how much he had fallen away, and that 
 he seemed literally almost slipping through his clothes, a cir- 
 cumstance the more remarkable from the usual portliness of 
 his figure. 
 
 " I was so struck with his change of appearance that I 
 could not refrain from again pressing him to accompany me 
 for a few days down here, but he declined it as being impossi- 
 ble, from the necessity of his immediately winding up ' Pere- 
 grine Bunce ' and ' Fathers and Daughters ' (the novel he was 
 publishing in monthly parts in ' Colburn's Magazine'), but he 
 added, that in a fortnight or three weeks he should so far have 
 ' broken the necks of them both ' as to admit of his running 
 down to Eastbourne, where he said ' he could be quiet' 
 Alas ! he little thought, or I, how quiet, or what his rest 
 would be before the expiration of that term ! I left him, but 
 without any foreboding that it was for the last time. 
 
 " The first intimation I had of his danger was on Tuesday 
 the 24th ult. in a letter from my son, who went down to Ful- 
 ham to call on him on the Monday ; that letter stated that, to 
 his equal surprise and grief, the answer he received had been 
 that Mr. Hook was given over by Dr. Ferguson who had been 
 called in to him ; that mortification had taken place, was rap- 
 idly going on, and that a few hours at farthest must close the
 
 S/X WALTER SCOTT. 45 
 
 scene. In point of fact, he expired about half-past four that 
 same afternoon, as I heard from Bentley by the following 
 post. 
 
 " It was well for my engagement with the latter that I had 
 a few days before sent him up the legend I had promised for 
 the month, for, feeling apart, the confusion of intellect I was 
 in would have rendered it impossible for me even to have 
 looked at a proof. 
 
 "Mathews, Frank Bacon, poor Power, Tom Hill, and 
 James Smith and now Hook! he who flung his life and 
 spirit into the rest ! I question if half a dozen such associates 
 were ever removed, or such a party broken up in so short a 
 time. I doubt if I shall have the courage now to enter the 
 Garrick Club again. Its glory has indeed departed ! 
 
 " With the exact state of poor Hook's circumstances I am 
 not fully acquainted. I believe he has left no tradesmen's 
 bills unpaid, and if in debt at all, it must be to such persons as 
 never will look to that part of their loss. But I much fear he 
 can have left no great provision for Mrs. Hook or his children, 
 of whom he has four besides the young man in India. I hope 
 somebody will be found to do justice to his memory. Mr. 
 Croker would be the man of all others, if he would undertake 
 the task ; and though I believe it has been neglected of late, 
 yet I know my poor friend kept a diary, which I have seen, of 
 the freaks and adventures of his earlrer years. Much of this, 
 I dare say, has been anticipated in ' Gilbert Gurney,' and 
 much, perhaps from respect to living persons, could not, as 
 yet at least, be given to the public ; but the history of the 
 Berners Street hoax, and some other transactions I could 
 name, will one day, no doubt, raise a hearty laugh among 
 those who come after us." 
 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT. 
 
 " November 26, 1826. Dined at Doctor Hughes's. Sir Wal- 
 ter Scott had been there the day before ; and the Doctor told 
 me the following anecdote, which he had just heard from the 
 ' Great Unknown.' A Scottish clergyman, whose name was
 
 46 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 not mentioned, had some years since been cited before the 
 Ecclesiastical Assembly at Edinburgh, to answer to a charge 
 brought against him of great irreverence in religious matters, 
 and Sir Walter was employed by him to arrange his defense. 
 The principal fact alleged against him was his having asserted, 
 in a letter which was produced, that ' he considered Pontius 
 Pilate to be a very ill-used man, as he had done more for 
 Christianity than all the other nine apostles put together.' The 
 fact was proved, and suspension followed." 
 
 "November 20, 1828. Carried a letter addressed by Sir 
 Walter Scott to Mrs. Hughes, on the subject of a benefit for 
 Mr. Terry the actor, lately afflicted with a paralytic stroke, to 
 Stephen Price at Drury Lane Theatre. Prfce promised me to 
 let him have a benefit at the proper season, if he wished it ; 
 Sir Walter undertaking to write a prologue or an epilogue. 
 Mrs. H., in a conversation respecting the ' Bride of Lammer- 
 moor,' told me that she had been informed by Sir Walter, when 
 she was last at Abbottsford, that the main incidents of that 
 story were true ; that the Lucy of the tale was a Miss Dal- 
 rymple ; Bucklaw, who marries her, was Dunbar of Dunbar ; 
 and her lover, Hamilton of Bungany, who, however, survived 
 her many years. The expression used by Lucy, ' So ye have 
 taken up your bonnie bridegroom,' is historically correct ; as 
 is the whole circumstance of her stabbing her new-made hus- 
 band, and her subsequent insanity. The catastrophe of Ra- 
 venswood's being overwhelmed in the sand is founded on an 
 occurrence which took place before the eyes of Sir Walter's 
 son, Major Scott, who saw three Irish horsedealers disappear 
 in the manner described. A similar accident is said to have 
 happened to the son of the celebrated Mrs. Trimmer. 
 
 " Meg Dodds, described in ' St. Ronan's Well,' is a Mrs. 
 Wilson, who keeps the inn at Fushie Bridge, the first stage 
 from Edinburgh on the road to Abbotsford. She adores Sir 
 Walter, and when Dr. and Mrs. Hughes were detained for want 
 of horses, finding out accidentally that they were friends of 
 his, she without any scruple ordered those which were be- 
 spoken for a gentleman, then on his way to dine with Lord
 
 SSX WALTER SCOTT. 47 
 
 Melville, to be put to their carriage. Mrs. Wilson is a strict 
 Presbyterian, and once complained to Sir Walter that 'though 
 he had done just right by being so much with Arnieston (Mr. 
 Dundas of Arnieston), yet that the latter had greviously of- 
 fended her. He had pit up,' she said, ' in the kirk the Lord's 
 Prayer and the Ten Commandments, and when a remonstrance 
 was sent to him against such idolatry, he just answered, that 
 if they did not let him alone he would e'en pit up a " Belief " 
 into the bargain ! ' " 
 
 " September, 1829. Mrs. Hughes told me that the person 
 whose character was drawn by Sir Walter Scott as Jonathan 
 Oldbuck was a Mr. Russell, and that the laird whom he men- 
 tions as playing cards with Andrew Gemmell (the prototype 
 of Edie Ochiltree) through the window was Mr. Scott of Yar- 
 row. 
 
 " Snivelling Stone, about two miles and a half from the 
 cromlech known as Wayland Smith's Cave, in Berkshire, is 
 a large stone, which it is said that Wayland, having ordered 
 his attendant dwarf to go on an errand, and observing the boy 
 to go reluctantly, kicked after him. It just caught his heel, 
 and from the tears which ensued, it derived its traditionary ap- 
 pellation. It is singular that when Mrs. Hughes, who had 
 this story from a servant, a native of that part of the country, 
 first told it to Sir Walter Scott, he declared that he had never 
 heard of Wayland's having had any attendant, but had got all 
 the materials for his story, so far as that worthy is concerned, 
 from Camden. His creation of Dicky Sludge, a character so 
 near the traditionary one of which he had never heard, is a 
 curious coincidence. 
 
 " So also is his description of Sir Henry Lee and the dog 
 in " Woodstock." There is a painting in the possession of Mr. 
 Townsend of Trevallyn, in Wales, representing, according to 
 a tradition long preserved in his family, Sir Henry Lee of 
 Ditchley, with a large dog, the perfect resemblance of Bevis. 
 Mr. Townsend, however, thinks he flourished about a century 
 earlier than the Woodstock hero, and was the same with the Sir 
 H. Lee whose verses to Queen Elizabeth, on his retiring from
 
 48 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAU. 
 
 the tilt yard in consequence of old age, are preserved in Wai- 
 pole's " Antiquities." The strange thing is that Sir Walter 
 knew nothing of this picture till after " Woodstock " was pub- 
 lished. 
 
 "Told her the story of old Steady Baker, the Mayor of 
 Folkestone, whom I well remember. A boy was brought before 
 him for stealing gooseberries. Baker turned over ' Burn's 
 Justice,' but not being able to find the article he wanted in 
 the book, which is alphabetically arranged, he lifted up his 
 spectacles, and addressed the culprit thus : ' My lad, it 's very 
 lucky for you that instead of stealing gooseberries, you are 
 not brought here for stealing a goose ; there is a statute 
 against stealing geese, but I can't find anything about goose- 
 berries in all " Burn "; so let the prisoner be discharged, for I 
 suppose it is no offense.' " 
 
 " October, 1831. Sir Walter Scott came to town on his way 
 to Malta, and visited Dr. Hughes. Is much sunk in spirits, 
 and told the doctor, on taking leave, that ' he saw a broken 
 man ! ' in spirit, of course, as his circumstancesare now re- 
 viving. He still, however, retains gleams of his former 
 humor, and told with almost his usual glee the story of a 
 placed minister, near Dundee, who, in preaching on Jonah, 
 said : ' Ken ye, brethren, what fish it was that swallowed 
 him ? Aiblins ye may think it was a shark nae, nae, my 
 brethren, it ways nae shark ; or aiblins ye may think it was a 
 saumon nae, nae, my brethren, it was nae saumon ; or aib- 
 lins ye may think it was a dolphin nae, nae, my brethren, it 
 was nae dolphin ' 
 
 " Here an old woman, thinking to help her pastor out of a 
 dead lift, cried out, ' Aiblins, sir, it was a dunter ! ' (the vul- 
 gar name of a species of whale common to the Scotch coast). 
 
 " ' Aiblins, madam, ye 're an auld witch for taking the word 
 o' God out of my mouth ! ' was the reply of the disappointed 
 rhetorician. 
 
 " Mr. Lonsdale, late chaplain to the Archbishop, dined there, 
 and, in a conversation which ensued, mentioned his having, in 
 a late tour, fallen in with the late Dominie Sampson. This
 
 SfA WALTER SCOTT. 49 
 
 gentleman was a Mr. Thompson, the son of the placed minis- 
 ter of Melrose, and himself in orders, though without a manse. 
 He had lived for many years as chaplain in Sir Walter's fam- 
 ily, and was tutor to his children, who used to take advantage 
 of his absence of mind to open the window while he was lect- 
 uring, get quietly out of it and go to play, a circumstance he 
 would rarely perceive. Sir Walter had many opportunities of 
 procuring him a benefice, but never dared avail himself of 
 them, satisfied that his absence of mind would only bring him 
 into scrapes if placed in a responsible situation. Mr. T. was 
 once very nearly summoned before the Synod for reading the 
 'Visitation of the Sick' service from our Liturgy to a poor 
 man confined to his bed by illness." 
 
 "July 3, 1833. Visit to Mrs. Hughes at Kingston, Lisle. 
 From letters of Sir Walter Scott, it appears that Lord Webb 
 Somerset, brother to the Duke of Beaufort, was the author of 
 the note to ' Rokeby ' containing the legend of Littlecote Hall, 
 and that Miss Hayman furnished him with the ballad, ' The 
 spirit of the blasted tree ' in ' Marmion.' 
 
 " Dandie Dinmont was one Jamie Davison, who lived in 
 Liddesdale, and died in September, 1823. When the minister, 
 who had paid him several visits during his illness, called for 
 the last time on the morning of his death, the good man in- 
 quired as to the state of his mind : 
 
 " ' Eh minister, ye 're vara gude and Ise muckle obleeged to 
 ye ; eh, sir, it 's a great mercy that I sulde be able to look out 
 of window the morn and get a sight o' the hounds ; it 's just 
 a mercy they sulde rin this way. 'T wad ha' bin too much 
 for a puir sinner like to ha' expeckit a sight o' the tod ! sae 
 thank the Lord for a' things ! ' 
 
 " The circumstances attending Tony Foster's death as de- 
 scribed in ' Kenilworth,' are taken from a real incident re- 
 corded in. the third volume of the Due de St. Simon's memoirs. 
 There an account is given of the death of an avaricious Master 
 of Requests at Lyons, named Pecoil, who had contrived a re- 
 cess within his cellar closed by a heavy iron door, within which 
 he was in the habit of depositing his hoards. By some means 
 4
 
 5O RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM 
 
 the lock at last got hampered, and on one of his visits he was 
 unable to let himself out again. He was eventually discov- 
 ered lying on his treasures dead, and having previously begun 
 to gnaw one of his arms. 
 
 " Mrs. Hughes repeated several anecdotes which she had 
 heard from the mouth of Sir Walter himself ; among them one 
 of Lady Johnson, sister to the late Earl of Buchan and Lord 
 Erskine, and widow of Sir J. Johnson. When on her death- 
 bed, a few hours prior to her dissolution, she had her notice 
 attracted by the violence of a storm which was raging with 
 great fury out of doors. Motioning with her hand to have the 
 curtains thrown open, she looked earnestly at the window 
 through which the lightning was flashing very vividly, and 
 exclaimed to her attendants : ' Gude faith, but it 's an unco 
 awfu' night for me to gang bleezing through the lift ! ' 
 
 " Another story told by Sir Walter was of a drunken old 
 laird who fell off his pony into the water while crossing a ford 
 in Ettrick. 
 
 " ' Eh, Jock,' he cried to his man, ' there 's some puir body 
 fa'en into the water ; I heard a splash ; who is it, man ? ' 
 
 " ' Troth, laird, I canna tell ; forbye it 's no yersell,' said 
 John, dragging him to the bank. The laird's wig meantime 
 had fallen off into the stream, and John in putting it on again 
 had placed it inside out. This, and its being thoroughly 
 soaked, annoyed the old gentleman, who refused to wear 
 it: 
 
 " ' Deil ha' my saul, it 's nae my ain wig ; what for do \T no 
 get me my ain wig, ye ne'er-do-weel ? ' 
 
 "' Eh, then, laird, ye '11 no get ony ither wig the night, sae 
 e'en pit it on again. There 's nae sic a wale of wigs in the 
 burnie I jalouse.' 
 
 " Another of his stories was of a party of Highland gentle- 
 men who continued drinking three whole days and nights suc- 
 cessively, without intermission : 
 
 " ' Hech, sirs,' cried one at last, ' but McKinnon looks gash ! ' 
 
 " ' What for should he no,' returned his neighbor, ' has na 
 the chiel been dead these twa hoors ? '
 
 S/K WALTER SCOTT. 51 
 
 '' ' Dead ! ' repeated his friend, ' an ye did na' tell us be- 
 fore ! ' 
 
 " ' Hoot, man,' was the answer, ' what for should I ha' 
 spoiled gude company for sic a puir bit bodie as yon ? ' ' 
 
 Sir Walter Scott declared to Mrs. Hughes that, many years 
 before the event took place, he had heard of a prophecy in the 
 Seaforth family, uttered, or said to have been uttered by a 
 second-sighted clansman more than a century before, to the 
 effect that " when the Chisholm and the Fraser should be 
 baith deaf, and the M'Pherson (? M'Kenzie) born with a buck 
 tooth, the male line of the Fraser should become extinct, and 
 that a white-hooded lassie should come from ayont the sea and 
 inherit a'." All these contingencies happened in the late Lord 
 Seaforth's time, who, on reverting to the prophecy, showed 
 two fine lads, his sons, to Sir Walter, and observed, " After 
 all 's said and done, I think these boys will ding the prophet 
 after all." He was wrong, however. The two boys died im- 
 mediately before their father, and the present Lady Hood, a 
 widow, came from India after his decease and inherited the 
 property. 
 
 The prophecy is said to have included yet another family 
 misfortune, and to have foretold that the white-hooded lassie 
 (the widow's cap is clearly alluded to in the epithet) should 
 cause the death of her own sister. This also came to pass. 
 By the upset of a pony carriage which Mrs. Stuart M'Kenzie 
 (as Lady Hood had become by marriage) was driving, her 
 sister was instantaneously killed on the spot, and she herself 
 so fearfully injured about the face as to be compelled to wear, 
 for the remainder of her life, a head-dress of a fashion which 
 enabled her to conceal the greater part of her countenance 
 under bands of black velvet. 
 
 " Sir Walter Scott," Mr. Barham goes on to say, " gave 
 Mrs. Hughes an account of his visit to Warrender House, the 
 seat of Sir George Warrender, at Burntfields, near Edinburgh. 
 He stated that on an architect being called in to make some 
 repairs there on a large scale, he could not make the ground 
 plan agree with the interior measurement of the edifice. After
 
 52 RICHARD HARRIS BAR HAM. 
 
 much discussion he found an old doorway, which the servants 
 assured him was a false one and ' led nowhere.' Recurring 
 in his plan, however, he suspected that the deficient quantity 
 must be in its vicinity, and accordingly, determined to have it 
 opened. It was strongly fastened, but was at length removed, 
 when behind it he found three small rooms, the-farthest one 
 fitted up as a bed-room, with two silver candlesticks on the 
 toilet table, the candles burnt down in the sockets. Hali- 
 burnt embers were on the hearth ; and an old-fashioned but 
 very handsome dressing-gown was hanging over the back of a 
 chair at the foot of which was a pair of slippers. The bed ap- 
 peared to have been left disarranged as when quitted by its 
 last occupant. Not any of the family then living were aware 
 of the existence of these rooms, nor was there any tradition as 
 to the name or character of their inmates. It was also said by 
 Sir George, at the same time, that 'he had been assured by 
 members of the family that at Glamis Castle there was a se- 
 cret room, the mode of approaching which was never known 
 to more than the possessor and the heir apparent of the prop- 
 erty." 
 
 CHARLES DIGGLE. 
 
 Of Diggle Mr. Barham used to tell many absurd stories : 
 how, for instance, he used to steal the shoe-strings of Isaac 
 Hill, the second master, and avowed his intention of continu- 
 ing the robbery till he got enough to form a line that would 
 reach from one end of the school to the other (seventy feet), 
 but was unluckily removed from school before he had half ac- 
 complished his task. The most amusing, however much to be 
 condemned, of his practical jokes was one in which his friend 
 Barham also had a share. The two boys having, in the course of 
 one of their walks, discovered a Quakers' meeting-house, forth- 
 with procured a penny tart of a neighboring pastry-cook ; 
 furnished with this, Diggle marched boldly into the building, 
 and holding up the delicacy in the midst of the grave assembly, 
 said with perfect solemnity, 
 
 " Whoever speaks first shall have this pie." 
 
 " Friend, go thy way," commenced a drab-colored gentle- 
 man, rising ; " go thy way and "
 
 BARHAM'S COLLEGE LIFE. 53 
 
 " The pie 's yours, sir ! " exclaimed Master Diggle politely 
 and placing it before the astounded speaker hastily effected 
 his escape. 
 
 BARHAM'S COLLEGE LIFE. 
 
 College life, more especially at that day, was likely to pre- 
 sent numerous and sore temptations to one who was overflow- 
 ing with good-nature and high spirits, and whose early loss 
 had not only placed a perilous abundance of funds at his dis- 
 posal, but had left him, as it happened, utterly unchecked by 
 parental counsel and authority, for his mother, a confirmed 
 invalid, had for some time been incapable of exercising any 
 control over his conduct. Of his guardians, on the other hand, 
 but one busied himself at all in his affairs ; and of him, the 
 attorney before alluded to, the youth had come to conceive a 
 strong dislike, a feeling not unmixed with suspicion, which 
 proved but too well founded, of the man's honesty. It was 
 scarcely to be expected that such an ordeal should be passed 
 through without scathe. Brasenose, too, was an expensive 
 college : it was commonly reported that the Principal " hated 
 a college of paupers," and the young men were ready enough 
 in this respect to follow the cue which they believed had been 
 given. Mr. Barham, like many others, spent there a great deal 
 of money to very little purpose. Among other extravagances 
 gaming was the fashion there as elsewhere. Whether, indeed, 
 college " hells " were in existence at that time, as they cer- 
 tainly were a generation later, I am not able to say, but a good 
 deal of high play went on, and although this was certainly a 
 vice to which my father had no natural inclination, he was on 
 one occasion induced to join a party at "unlimited loo." or 
 something of the sort, and with the happiest result he lost 
 heavily ; a great deal more, that is to say, than he was in a 
 condition to pay. Direct communication on such a subject 
 with the lawyer at Canterbury was on many accounts extremely 
 distasteful. A lecture from him would have proved particu- 
 larly galling ; there was nothing for it, therefore, but to apply 
 to Lord Rokeby, and this Mr. Barham did, earnestly begging
 
 54 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 him to authorize the advance of a sum, from the property in 
 trust, sufficient to discharge the obligation. Lord Rokeby very 
 decidedly, and it need hardly be said very properly, declined 
 to accede, to the request. As a guardian, he said, he could 
 not for a moment entertain the question, but he very good- 
 naturedly added, that as a friend he would give the money. 
 The present showed tact as well as kindness, and clearly ren- 
 dered any second application of the sort impossible. And it 
 is a fact that, from that day to his last, Mr. Barham held en- 
 tirely aloof, not only from gambling in the ordinary sense of 
 the word, but from speculation of every kind and degree. A 
 railway investment he looked upon as a certain step towards 
 utter ruin ; and when one of the most accomplished of pro- 
 jectors, a gentleman who had succeeded in getting some very, 
 pretty sport, especially among the clergy, called on him with 
 the prospectus of a certain Cornish mining company, and 
 tried hard to persuade him to join with many of his brethren 
 in the adventure, his habitual distrust was not to be overcome : 
 " Tell me candidly," asked he, " all exaggeration apart, what 
 dividend do you really calculate will be paid ? " 
 
 " Not one farthing short of twenty per cent. ! " 
 
 " You are in earnest ? " 
 
 " Absolutely in earnest, on my honor." 
 
 " Thank you that is rather too good a thing for me to 
 meddle with. I wish you all possible success, and a very 
 good morning ! " and he buttoned up his pocket, bowed out his 
 friend, and could never be persuaded to resume the negotia- 
 tion. Those who persisted in the scheme two of his inti- 
 mate friends among the number were ruined, or nearly 
 ruined, by its collapse. 
 
 His reply to Mr. Hodson, his tutor, afterwards Principal of 
 Brasenose, will convey some notion of the hours he was wont 
 to keep. This gentleman, who, doubtless discerning, spite of 
 an apparent levity, much that was amiable and high-minded in 
 his pupil, treated him with marked indulgence, sent for him on 
 one occasion to demand an explanation of his continued ab- 
 sence from morning chapel.
 
 ANECDOTE OF HARLEY THE COMEDIAN. 55 
 
 " The fact is, sir," urged his pupil, " you are too late for 
 me." 
 
 " Too late ? " repeated the tutor, in astonishment. 
 
 "Yes, sir too late. I cannot sit up till seven o'clock in 
 the morning : I am a man of regular habits ; and unless I 
 get to bed by four or five at latest, I am really fit for nothing 
 next day." 
 
 An impertinence better rebuked by the look of dignified 
 displeasure which it called up, than by any amount of punish- 
 ment that could have been inflicted. All affectation was cast 
 aside on the instant an apology sincerely offered, and silently 
 accepted. 
 
 ANECDOTE OF HARLEY THE COMEDIAN. 
 
 The Whig Club patronized the drama, which was then rep- 
 resented at Canterbury by a travelling company under the 
 management of a certain Mrs. Baker. The principal light 
 comedian was a youth as yet " to fortune and to fame un- 
 known," but destined ere long to win the smiles of both no 
 other than the late popular favorite, Mr. Harley. He often 
 used to tell how he was extricated from one of his early pro- 
 fessional difficulties by the aid, good-naturedly offered, of 
 my father. Harley had been cast for the part of Goldfinch 
 in " The Road to Ruin," but the resources of the establishment 
 were limited, and the wardrobe afforded no dress better suited to 
 the character than an old tarnished lace frock of Macheath's, 
 with a pair of jack-boots to match the whole much too large 
 for the figure of the young actor. There was no time to say 
 nothing of money to provide a more appropriate costume, 
 and in his embarrassment he consulted Mr. Barham, who was 
 a constant visitor both before and behind the curtain. The 
 latter settled the matter at once by presenting him with a com- 
 plete suit of his own. It consisted of a green single-breasted 
 coat with gilt buttons, a crimson waistcoat, edges and pockets 
 trimmed with fur, buff buckskin breeches, top-boots, and silver 
 spurs ! Harley was delighted, so it is to be hoped was the au- 
 dience ; assuredly a more complete buck of the period was never 
 before presented to their notice.
 
 56 RICHARD HARRIS XARHAM. 
 
 WITCHCRAFT. 
 
 Among my father's memoranda I find an account, abridged 
 from Scott's curious work, of a case of witchcraft which oc- 
 curred at the village of Westwell in the reign of Elizabeth, 
 and which was professionally treated with marked success by 
 the minister of the parish : 
 
 " I will begin with a true story of a witch practicing her dia- 
 bolical witchcraft and ventriloquie anno 1574, at Westwell, in 
 Kent, within six miles of where I dwell, taken and noted down 
 by two ministers of God's Word, four substantial yeomen, and 
 three women of good fame and reputation, whose names are 
 after- written. October 13. Mildred, the base daughter of 
 Alice Norrington, and now servant to Will. Spooner, of West- 
 well Co. Kent, being of the age of seventeen years, was pos- 
 sessed with Satan in the day and night aforesaid. About two 
 o'clock in the afternoon of the same day there came to the said 
 Spooner's house Roger Newman, minister of Westwell, John 
 Brainford, minister of Kinington, with others whose names 
 are unwritten, who made their prayer to God to assist them 
 in that needful case, and then commanded Satan in the name 
 of the Holy Trinity to speak with such a voice as they might 
 understand, and to declare from whence he came." 
 
 At first the dqvil proved refractory, but the exercisers insist- 
 ing, he confessed that he had been sent to the girl by "old 
 Alice," who, among other things, had moved him to kill three 
 persons, Edward Agar, a gentleman of forty pounds by the 
 year, his child, and Wolton's wife ; and that finally he was 
 commissioned by the said " old Alice " to kill the possessed. 
 The devil being exorcised and driven out, an account was 
 drawn up, signed, and testified as aforesaid. Eventually the 
 girl was arrested as an impostor, confessed her crime, and 
 received "condigne punishment." 
 
 According to Scott the trick was managed by means of ven- 
 triloquism. The Holy Maid of Kent is also said by him to have 
 practiced the same art. 
 
 A second extract from the same volume (p. 61 of the edition 
 of 1654) runs as follows :
 
 BARffAM AMONG SMUGGLERS. 57 
 
 " I remember another story written in ' Malleus Malefi- 
 carmn,' repeated by Bodmin, that one soldier called Punker 
 daily throughout witchcraft killed with his bowe and arrows 
 three of the enemies as they stood peeping over the walls of a 
 castle besieged, so as in the end he killed them all quite, saving 
 one. The triall of the archer's sinister dealing and a proof 
 thereof expressed is for that he never lightly failed when he 
 shot, and for that he killed them by three a day, and had shot 
 three arrows into a rod. This was he that shot at a. peny on 
 his sonnes head and made ready another arrow to have 
 slaine the Duke that commanded it." l 
 
 Query, origin of William Tell ? 
 
 BARHAM AMONG SMUGGLERS. 
 
 The villages which formed his new cure (Warehorn) were 
 about two miles apart and situated, the former in, the latter 
 on the verge of, Rommey Marsh ; and, as may be supposed, 
 they abounded, even more than the spot he had just quitted 
 in desperadoes engaged in what, by a technical euphemism, 
 was termed " The Free Trade." 
 
 But, notwithstanding the reckless character of these men, 
 the rector met with nothing of outrage or incivility at their 
 hands. Many a time indeed, on returning homewards late at 
 night, has he been challenged by a half seen horseman who 
 looked in the heavy gloom like some misty condensation a little 
 more substantial than ordinary fog, but on making known his 
 name and office, he was invariably allowed to pass on with a 
 " Good-night, it 's only parson ! " while a long and shadowy line 
 of mounted smugglers, each with his led horse laden with tubs, 
 filed silently by. Nay, they even extended their familiarity so 
 far as to make the church itself a depot for contraband goods ; 
 and on one occasion a large seizure of tobacco had been made 
 in the Snargate belfry calumny contended for the discovery 
 of a keg of hollands under the vestry-table. When it is added, 
 that the nightly wages, paid whether a cargo was run or not, 
 were at the raf.e of seven and sixpence to an unarmed man, 
 
 1 Scott's Discovery of Witchcraft, book vii.
 
 58 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 and fifteen shillings to one who carried his cutlass and pis- 
 tols, little surprise can be felt if nearly the whole population 
 pursued more or less so profitable an avocation. 
 
 The district, moreover, appears up to a late period to have 
 been utterly neglected in point of religious instruction and 
 superintendence. It seems to have been one of the last 
 strongholds of the Trullibers. Will it be credited that in the 
 nineteenth century one of the reverend gentlemen in question 
 has been known on a Sabbath-day to cart a load of bricks, in 
 proprid persond, to the church-yard, for the purpose of repair- 
 ing the chancel ? Such was the fact. 
 
 Indeed, it was this gentleman's ordinary custom, living as 
 he did at some distance from his cure, to drive over on a 
 Sunday at any hour which might happen to be most conven- 
 ient, and, having put up his horse and gig, to enter the public- 
 house parlor and there sit down to discuss the state of the 
 markets over a glass of toddy and a pipe with the landlord, 
 who was parish clerk as well, together with any neighbors 
 who might happen to drop in. Meanwhile a lad was dis- 
 patched to ring the bell, and by the time the rest of the con- 
 gregation had assembled, the rector and his company were 
 usually ready to repair to the church, where, after a fashion, 
 
 divine service was performed. But one blunder Mr. 
 
 unfortunately committed he outlived his age. Old friends 
 died off, new parishioners intruded, a stricter discipline was on 
 all sides growing up; and one day before the cheering 
 would that we could say not inebriating glass was emptied, 
 or the fragrant " screw " half consumed, the bell suddenly and 
 unexpectedly stopped ! What could it mean ? off started 
 clerk and clergyman, indignant at the interruption, to ascertain 
 its cause, and discovered to their consternation a stranger in 
 the reading desk. It was the Rural Dean ! What steps were 
 subsequently taken I do not remember to have heard, but they 
 
 were such as to relieve Mr. of the necessity of hurrying 
 
 over his Sunday morning's refreshment for the future. 
 
 It is recorded of the same individual that even during di- 
 vine service it was not unfrequent for him to mingle secular
 
 A CASE OF MONOMANIA. 59 
 
 matters with divine, in a manner no less ludicrous than inde- 
 corous leaning, for example, over his churchwarden's pew as 
 he passed from the reading desk to the pulpit, and observing, 
 as the result of long and recently concluded deliberation, 
 " Well, Smithers, I '11 have that pig." 
 
 A CASE OF MONOMANIA. 
 
 I may here introduce a somewhat singular occurrence which 
 took place at the residence of another clergyman in this 
 neighborhood ; one, however, it is to be observed, in every re- 
 spect the opposite of the gentleman just mentioned. He had 
 lost a beloved daughter, under circumstances peculiarly affect- 
 ing. She was playing in the garden in high spirits and ap- 
 parent health, when suddenly approaching her father she 
 looked up in his face, and saying, " Father, take care of my 
 fowls ! " without another word laid her head upon his knees 
 and died. The blow was stunning, and Mr. never en- 
 tirely recovered from its effects. For some months his reason 
 was despaired of, and though afterwards restored to cope in 
 full vigor with ordinary subjects, it sank into monomania on 
 the mention of one his daughter ! 
 
 A belief took full possession of his mind that he was con- 
 stantly subject to the visits of his lost child ; he intimated, 
 moreover, that the spirit spoke of poison having been ad- 
 ministered, and urgently pressed upon him the avenging of 
 the murder. In the earlier stages of the disease, his friends 
 entertained hopes of reasoning or rallying him out of so dis- 
 tressing a delusion. Mr. Barham, among the rest, being 
 present at his table, took an opportunity of addressing to him 
 some skeptical remarks on the theory of apparitions. 
 
 ' I sincerely hope, sir," replied his host, " you may never 
 have occasion to change your opinion ; but, unless I greatly 
 err, your unbelief will meet with a manifest check in the 
 course of this very night." 
 
 The words had scarcely passed his lips, when the party was 
 startled by a loud noise, as of a falling body, proceeding from 
 the hall. Mr. looked round with an air of calm triumph,
 
 60 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 while his guest, not altogether convinced that the interruption 
 was necessarily to be attributed to spiritual agency, opened 
 the door to ascertain its cause. He returned with his own 
 hat which had been dislodged, probably by the wind which 
 happened to be unusually high, from the wall. 
 
 " You see, gentlemen, I am no false prophet," said the host 
 quietly. 
 
 "Well," urged Mr. Barham, half annoyed at the aptitude of 
 the accident, " if that be the handiwork of your familiar, I 
 should take it as a favor if you would represent to him or 
 her, as the case may be, that, as the hat happens to be my 
 best"- " Oh ! " interrupted the seer, "if you are still dis- 
 posed to treat the matter with levity, we will drop it at once." 
 Dropped accordingly it was, leaving the unfortunate gentle- 
 man more confirmed than ever in his visionary creed. 
 
 A POETICAL INVITATION. 
 
 Of the many amusing trifles which he was in the habit of 
 addressing to his friends, one of the best, perhaps, is an invita- 
 tion to Dr. Wilmot of Ashford, conveyed under the form of a 
 parody on " O Nanny, wilt thou gang with me ? " 
 
 " O Doctor ! wilt thou dine with me, 
 
 And drive on Tuesday morning down? 
 Can ribs of beef have charms for thee 
 
 The fat, the lean, the luscious brown ? 
 No longer dressed in silken sheen, 
 
 Nor decked with rings and brooches rare, 
 Say, wilt thou come in velveteen, 
 
 Or corduroys that never tear ? 
 
 " O Doctor I when thou com 'st away, 
 
 Wilt thou not bid John ride behind, 
 On pony, clad in livery K* v i 
 
 To mark the birds our pointers find? 
 I>et him a flank of darkest green 
 
 Replete with cherry brandy bear, 
 That we may still, our toil* between, 
 That fascinating fluid share ! 
 
 " O Doctor ! canst thou aim so true, 
 
 As we through briars and bramble* go, 
 To reach the partridge brown of hue, 
 And lay the mounting pheasant low ?
 
 RUSTIC SIMPLICITY. 6l 
 
 Or should, by chance, it so befall 
 
 Thy path be crossed by timid hare, 
 Say, wilt thou for the game-bag call, 
 
 And place the fur-clad victim there ? 
 
 "And when at last the dark'ning sky 
 
 Proclaims the hour of dinner near, 
 Wilt thou repress each struggling sigh, 
 
 And quit thy sport for homely cheer? 
 The cloth withdrawn, removed the tray 
 
 Say, wilt thou, snug in elbow-chair, 
 The bottle's progress scorn to stay, 
 
 But fill, the fairest of the fair ? " 
 
 THE FATE OF A HARE. 
 
 Some similar lines were dispatched to the great man of the 
 neighborhood, " Squire " Hodges, who hunted the Marsh coun- 
 try with a scratch pack of beagles, and had happened to lose 
 his hare in the Rectors cabbage-garden : 
 
 BENEVOLENCE. 
 
 " The lark sings loud, 't is early morn, 
 
 These woodland scenes among, 
 The deep-toned pack and echoing horn 
 Their jovial notes prolong. 
 
 " And see poor puss, with shortened bseath, 
 
 Splashed sides, and weary feet, 
 In terror views approaching death, 
 And crouches at my feet ! 
 
 " Her strength is gone, her spirits fail, 
 
 Nor farther can she fly ; 
 The hounds snuff up the tainted gale, 
 And nearer sounds the cry. 
 
 " Poor helpless wretch ! methinks I view 
 
 Thee sink beneath their power ! 
 Methinks I see the ruffian crew 
 Thy tender limbs devour! 
 
 
 " Yet oh I in vain thy foes shall come : 
 
 So cheer thee, trembling elf ! 
 These guardian arms shall bear thee home 
 ' I '11 eat thee up myself!''
 
 62 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 RUSTIC SIMPLICITY. 
 
 A genuine and touching instance of simplicity is noted down 
 by my father as having been told to him by Mr. Baber of the 
 British Museum. 
 
 "A short time after Mr. Baber, who succeeded Mr. Beloe 
 at the British Museum, had entered upon his office as one of 
 the keepers, he attended a party from the west of England 
 over the building, and explained, in his official capacity, many 
 of the curiosities which it contains. In one of the rooms he 
 pointed out to their observation a collection of beautiful an- 
 tique vases, all of which, he informed them, had been dug up 
 at Herculaneum. One of the party echoed his words with the 
 greatest astonishment. 
 
 " ' Yes, sir, dug up, sir ? ' 
 
 " ' What, out of the ground ? ' 
 
 " ' Undoubtedly.' 
 
 " ' What, just as they now are ? ' 
 
 " ' Perhaps some little pains may have been taken in clean- 
 ing them, but in all other respects they were found just as you 
 see them.' The Somersetshire sage turning to one of his 
 companions with a most incredulous shake of the head assured 
 him in an audible whisper, 
 
 " * He may say what he likes, but he shall never per- 
 suade me that they ever dug up ready-made pots out of the 
 ground ? ' " 
 
 ANECDOTE OF LORD ELDON. 
 
 Diary: June l, 1822. Anecdote of Lord Chancellor Eldon 
 narrated to me by Dr. Blomberg. 
 
 " The Chancellor is very fond of shooting, and usually re- 
 tires into the country for six weeks towards the end of the 
 season, where he is in the habit of riding a little Welsh pony, 
 for which he gave fifty shillings. One morning last year his 
 lordship intending to enjoy a few hours' sport after a rainy 
 night, ordered 'Bob,' the pony, to be saddled. Lady Kl<!.. n 
 told him he could not have it, but company being in the room 
 gave no reason. In a few minutes, however, the servant 
 opened the door and announced that ' Bob ' was ready.
 
 THE B LOME ERG GHOST STORY. 63 
 
 " ' Why, bless me ! ' cried her ladyship, ' you can't ride him, 
 Lord Eldon, he has got no shoes on.' 
 
 " ' Oh, yes ! my lady,' said the servant, ' he was shod last 
 week.' 
 
 " ' Shameful ! ' exclaimed her ladyship, ' how dared you, sir, 
 or anybody, have that pony shod without orders ? ' ' John,' 
 continued she, addressing her husband, ' you. know you only 
 rode him out shooting four times last year, so I had his shoes 
 taken off, and have kept them ever since in my bureau. They 
 are as good as new, and these people have shod him again ; 
 we shall be ruined at this rate ! ' ' 
 
 " Repeated a story which I had from Dubois, that a friend 
 of his walking one day in Hyde Park with Lord Eldon, was 
 stopped by the latter, who pointed to a house and said : 
 
 " ' In that house the present Lady Eldon formerly dwelt, and 
 from that house, in consequence of my addresses being 
 thought presumptuous, I was banished. During my exile I 
 was informed that her father was going to give a masked ball, 
 and I resolved to make my way in disguise. I mingled with 
 the company, and when I came to my present lady, I said, 
 "Don't be alarmed, my love, it is I John Scott!" She, 
 however, could not command herself, and screamed. I was 
 detected and kicked out of the house.' " 
 
 " George the Third scolded Lord North for never going to 
 the concert of ancient music : ' Your brother, the bishop,' 
 said the King. ' never misses them, my lord.' ' Sir,' answered 
 the premier, ' if I were as deaf as my brother, the bishop, 
 I would never miss them either ! ' Told me by Dr. Blomberg, 
 who was present." 
 
 THE BLOMBERG GHOST STORY. 
 
 The name of Dr. Blomberg is well known in connection 
 with the celebrated ghost story so frequently narrated by 
 George IV. As several versions of this strange occurrence 
 are in existence, it may be worth while to give the one which 
 Mr. Barham heard at the doctor's own table, either on the 
 occasion when the foregoing anecdotes were told, or a few 
 days later.
 
 64 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 " During the American War, two officers of rank were seated 
 in their tent, and delayed taking their supper till a brother 
 officer, then absent upon a foraging party, should return. 
 Their patience was well-nigh exhausted, and they were about 
 to commence their meal, concluding something had occurred 
 to detain the party, when suddenly his well-known footstep 
 was heard approaching. Contrary to their expectation, how- 
 ever, he paused at the entrance of the tent, and without com- 
 ing in called on one of them by name, requesting him with 
 much earnestness, as soon as he should return to England, to 
 proceed to a house in a particular street in Westminster, in a 
 room of which (describing it) he would find certain papers of 
 great consequence to a young lad with whom the speaker was 
 nearly connected. The speaker then apparently turned away, 
 and his footsteps were distinctly heard retiring till their sound 
 was lost in distance. Struck with the singularity of his be- 
 havior, they both rose, and proceeded in search of him. A 
 neighboring sentinel on being questioned denied that he had 
 either seen or heard any one, although, as they believed, their 
 friend must have passed close by his post. In^a few minutes 
 their bewilderment was changed into a more painful feeling by 
 the approach of the visiting officer of the night, who informed 
 them that the party which went out in the morning had been 
 surprised, and that the dead body of poor Major Blomberg 
 (their friend) had been brought into the camp about ten min- 
 utes before. The two friends retired in silence, and sought 
 the corpse of the person who, as both were fully persuaded, 
 had just addressed them. They found him pierced by three 
 bullets, one of which had passed through his temples and 
 must have occasioned instant death. He was quite cold, and 
 appeared to have been dead some hours. It may easily be 
 conceived that a memorandum was immediately made of the 
 request they had both so distinctly heard, and of the circum- 
 stances attending it, and that on the return of the regiment to 
 Europe, no time was lost in searching for the papers. The 
 house was found without difficulty, and in an upper room, 
 agreeably with the information they had received in such an
 
 THE BLOMBERG GHOST STORY. 65 
 
 extraordinary manner, an old box was discovered, which had 
 remained there many years, containing the title-deeds of some 
 property now in the possession of the Rev. Dr. Blomberg, 
 who was the ' lad ' mentioned by name by the voice at the 
 tent door. 
 
 " This story," adds Mr. Barham, " was repeated to me by 
 Mr. Atwood, the King's organist, at Dr. Blomberg's own 
 table in his temporary absence. Mr. Atwood declared that he 
 had heard the story related by George IV. (whose foster- 
 brother Dr. Blomberg was) more than once, and on one oc- 
 casion when the doctor himself was present. He further 
 stated that the King had mentioned the names of all the par- 
 ties concerned, but that, with the exception of Major Blom- 
 berg's, they had escaped his memory." 
 
 Since the foregoing pages were prepared for the press a 
 very different version of the story has reached me, furnished 
 by a member of the family to the head of which the Yorkshire 
 property has descended. The account given by my informant 
 contains the substance of a narrative of the circumstances 
 under which the alleged supernatural communication was 
 made, drawn up by the officer to whom it was more particu- 
 larly addressed. It runs as follows : 
 
 Captain (? Major) Edward Blomberg was left a widower, 
 with one little boy, two years old, who was heir to a fair 
 estate in Yorkshire then in the possession of Baron Blomberg. 
 The captain's regiment being stationed in the island of Mar- 
 tinique, he was, in the course of duty, sent off with dispatches 
 to a place at a considerable distance from headquarters. One 
 night, shortly after his departure, an officer who, in conse- 
 quence of the crowded condition of the barracks, was sharing 
 his chamber with a comrade, was aroused, just as he was 
 dropping off to sleep, by the opening of the door. Captain 
 Blomberg entered, walked slowly to his friend's bed, and drew 
 back the mosquito curtains. 
 
 "Why, Blomberg," exclaimed the latter in astonishment, 
 " what on earth has brought you back ? " 
 
 The intruder answered : " This night I died at , and I 
 
 S
 
 66 RICHARD HARRiS BARIIAM. 
 
 have come hither to beg you to take charge of my little 
 orphan boy." He then gave the address of the child's grand- 
 mother and aunt, who were residing in London, and requested 
 that his son might be sent to them immediately ; adding di- 
 rections as to the searching for certain papers necessary to 
 establish the boy's title to the property of which he was heir. 
 This done, without waiting for a reply, the figure departed. 
 Perplexed, not to say alarmed, and thinking it just possible 
 that his imagination might have played him false, the officer 
 called to the occupant of the other bed : 
 
 " Did you," he asked, " see any one come into the room ? " 
 
 " Yes," was the answer ; " it was Blomberg, was it not ? 
 What did he want ? " 
 
 " Did n't you hear what he said ? " 
 
 " No," returned the other ; " I could hear that he was talk- 
 ing to you, but what he said I was unable to make out." 
 
 The first speaker then related the extraordinary communi- 
 cation he had just received. Both officers were much affected 
 by the strangeness of the affair, and were not a little ridiculed 
 on the following morning when they narrated the occurence at 
 breakfast in the mess-room. In the evening, however, a 
 message was fonvarded to the general in command to the 
 effect that Captain Blomberg's death had taken place on the 
 preceding night, just at the time of his appearance in the bed- 
 room. It came out that he had died of fever, evidently 
 brought on by depression of spirits occasioned by the loss of 
 his wife. No time was lost in seeking out the child, who was 
 found and dispatched to England, where he appears to have 
 been somewhat coldly received by the grandmother. His 
 story, however, happened to reach the ears of Lady Caroline 
 Finch, the Queen's governess, who repeated it to her Majesty. 
 
 The Queen, struck by the interest attaching to the boy, de- 
 clared that little Blomberg should never want a home ; and 
 immediately sending for him ordered that he should be 
 brought up in the royal nursery. She afterwards provided 
 for his education, and saw to the settlement of his property. 
 In addition to this, when the lad reached the age of nine
 
 DR. BLOMBERG AND HIS FIDDLES. 6/ 
 
 years, the Queen employed Gainsborough to paint his por- 
 trait, and subsequently presented the picture to the original. 
 This lad, brought up at the palace, became in due time 
 chaplain to George IV. and residentiary of St. Paul's. He 
 married Miss Floyer, a Dorsetshire lady, but, continuing 
 childless, adopted her niece ; and narrative and portrait, 
 papers and estate to say nothing of the ghost's plates and 
 spoons are, I am told, at the present time in the possession 
 of this lady's representative. 
 
 DR. BLOMBERG AND HIS FIDDLES. 
 
 Dr. Blomberg was an amiable man, that he was a sound 
 divine may be taken for granted, and assuredly he was a very 
 excellent musician. Fiddling was his strong point and his un- 
 failing amusement ; there were people who believed that he 
 kept a greased bow for silent play on Sundays. Three fiddles 
 he possessed three fiddles that he loved, I had almost said, 
 like children. And no wonder ; they were mellow, marvel- 
 ous instruments one a genuine Straduarius of incalculable 
 value. It is curious how players become attached to their 
 fiddles ! I speak in ignorance, but I never heard of any one 
 conceiving a strong affection for a trombone, or a big drum, 
 or a key bugle, but there appears to be something exception- 
 ally fascinating about a fiddle something which commends 
 that simple parent of sweet sounds to its master's heart in a 
 degree not attained by organs more powerful or more elabor- 
 ate. There are some fiddles too, I believe, which love their 
 owners at least they speak as if they do. But this by the 
 way. One mo'rning Dr. Blomberg came to my father in dire 
 distress. The tears, without figure of speech, were in his 
 eyes as he told his pitiful story. He had been robbed 
 robbed of his fiddles robbed of all three all three were 
 gone ! A former servant who had been detected in some 
 petty dishonesty and discharged was, it was pretty clear, " the 
 gentleman concerned in the abstraction." But what was to 
 be done ? How get at the offender or rather at the fiddles, 
 one of which, the solace of the Doctor's life, his incomparable 
 Straduarius, was, as had been intimated by the culprit's wife,
 
 68 RICHARD HARRIS BARIUM. 
 
 lying in pledge at a pawnbroker's shop in the neighborhood 
 of Smithfield ? It was impossible for Dr. Blomberg himself, a 
 dignified clergyman in shorts and shovel hat, to penetrate the 
 recesses of Cock Lane and Barbican. Would Mr. Barham 
 help him at his need ? This, it is needless to say, my father 
 very readily promised to do, and as he happened to number 
 among his acquaintances not only the chief magistrate at Bow 
 Street, Sir Richard Birnie, but both Townshend and Ruthven, 
 the celebrated " runners," he obtained from one or other of 
 these experts some practical hints, acting upon which he paid 
 a visit that very evening to the Smithfield establishment. 
 
 After an animated discussion with the proprietor, and an 
 offer, hastily declined, to refer the matter to the arbitration of 
 Sir Richard, the missing violin was produced, and, in consid- 
 eration of the repayment of five pounds which had been ad- 
 vanced upon it, handed over to the applicant. Wrapping his 
 prize up in a silk pocket-handkerchief, my father hurried off, 
 late as it was, to the Doctor's house in Amen Corner, and re- 
 stored the recovered Cremona to his arms. The old gentle- 
 man's delight was touching to witness. He jumped up, seized 
 his bow and ran it over the strings ; the tone was unimpaired ; 
 he tapped and sounded the lungs of his favorite they were 
 sound as ever. His gratitude was overwhelming ; and my 
 father always maintained that had the living of Tottenham 
 been vacant at that moment, and at the Doctor's option, he 
 would to a certainty have at once bestowed upon his benefac- 
 tor the best piece of preferment in the gift of the Dean and 
 Chapter. Eventually the other two fiddles were restored by 
 his exertions. 
 
 MURDER OF MRS. DONATTY. 
 
 Mr. Barham's acquaintance with Sir Richard Birnie has 
 been mentioned. It was of old standing and of sufficient 
 weight to procure an entrance into the police office and 
 on the bench, during the examination of the Cato Street con- 
 spirators on the night of the 2gth of February, 1820 ; and I 
 have often heard him (my father) speak of the thrill of horror 
 which ran through the court on the production of the bag 
 which the butcher, Ings, had destined for the reception of Lord
 
 MURDER OF MRS. DONATTY. 69 
 
 Castlereagh's head. Happily the villains were betrayed. But 
 about the time of which I am writing, viz. : 1822, a murder was 
 actually committed which produced a sensation in the town 
 unequaled in intensity by any similar event since the massa- 
 cre of the Marrs and Williamsons in Ratcliffe Highway, and 
 which in point of dramatic interest would vie with any of later 
 days. The spot was a house in a narrow street, at the northern 
 end of Gray's Inn, running parallel with Bedford Row, and 
 called Robert Street. The victim was one Mrs. Donatty, the 
 widow of a sheriff's officer, who, in the exercise of his voca- 
 tion, had amassed a considerable sum of money, a large pro- 
 portion of which had been obtained by the sale of pictures 
 painted by Morland, whose custodian he had happened fre- 
 quently to be. One evening this poor woman was found lying 
 dead in the passage of her home with her throat cut from ear 
 to ear and a handkerchief stuffed by way of a gag into her 
 mouth. After the removal of the body, Sir Richard Birnie 
 and Ruthven, accompanied by Mr. Barham, went to examine 
 the premises, and nothing in the history, genuine or fictitious, 
 of modern detectives, can surpass the description which the 
 latter used to give of the sagacity exhibited by the trained 
 intelligence of the police officer one of the most acute as 
 well as resolute that Bow Street could boast. 1 He corrected 
 without any affectation or failure of respect, the hasty and 
 occasionally erroneous guesses of the magistrate ; gave his 
 reasons simply for believing that the assassin had been ad- 
 mitted in the usual way at the front door, and had effected his 
 purpose as the woman was preceding him to the sitting-room 
 inferring that he was either an habitual visitor or that he 
 had been expected on this particular occasion ; commented on 
 the height of the man who had inflicted the wound from its 
 position, a calculation curiously confirmed by a subsequent 
 discovery ; and then remarking that an inner door had been 
 forced 
 
 " Aye, with this chisel," interrupted the magistrate, picking 
 up a heavy tool. 
 
 1 He headed the officers in the attack upon the loft in Cato Street, without waiting 
 for the arrival of the Coldstream Guards.
 
 7O RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 " Pardon me, Sir Richard, not with that ; it is too large to 
 produce the marks you see about the lock. It was done with 
 a narrower instrument, one with which he also broke open 
 this small box." " Why, it is merely an old tea-caddy ! " ob- 
 jected the other. " Yes, Sir Richard, an old tea-caddy, but it 
 has been forcibly opened, as you may see." 
 
 The party then proceeded to a small yard at the back of the 
 house, a grimy, damp, well-like looking place, shut in by high 
 walls, in one angle of which stood a half-rotten water-butt. 
 After a careful examination of this spot the officer observed : 
 
 " The man was disturbed before he had time to ransack the 
 house, probably by a knock at the front door, which prevented 
 his leaving by the way he entered, so he had to make his escape 
 over that wall, and so got into Great Ormond Street. Here 
 you see, sir," pointing out a small space on the stand of the 
 water-butt, from which the dark green mould had lately been 
 detached, " here he placed his left foot ; there his left hand 
 he is a tall man, as I supposed ; here came his right foot 
 you can see the brick scraped by the toe of his boot ; there his 
 right hand grasped the top of the wall. With a spring he 
 raised himself up, knocking out the mortar, as you observe, in 
 the scramble ; and he then dropped easily down on the other 
 side." 
 
 Certain slightly suspicious circumstances led to the arrest of 
 a young man, the nephew of the deceased, indeed, the only 
 relative she had. He was of a dissolute character, and, 
 though as a boy a great favorite of the old lady's, had of late 
 been known more than once to have exchanged angry words 
 with her. In person he was tall. This was pretty much all 
 that could be alleged against him at the time. On the other 
 hand, his horror and grief at the bloody deed appeared genuine, 
 and the magistrate, notwithstanding the opinion of the police, 
 saw no sufficient cause for detaining him. The next day he 
 disappeared, but many years afterwards the man, then being 
 on his death-bed in America, confessed that he was indeed the 
 murderer ; that the murder had been effected as Ruthven had 
 surmised ; that he had broken open the tea-caddy, which he
 
 MESMERISM. J\ 
 
 knew to contain his aunt's will, by the provisions of which, as 
 she had informed him he was left penniless in consequence of 
 his repeated misconduct ; that he had secured the document 
 and destroyed it, in the expectation of coming in as heir for 
 the whole of the property, not being at the time aware that as 
 an illegitimate child, which he was, he was debarred by law 
 from inheriting a farthing. He added that he was disturbed 
 by a knock at the door, and compelled to secure his retreat by 
 the route so cleverly tracked by the Bow Street officer. Mr. 
 Townshend's remarks, made in the hearing of my father, on 
 the simplicity of Sir Richard Birnie in letting the fellow slip 
 through his fingers after the police had fairly secured him, 
 were in that worthy's usually forcible and figurative style. 
 
 MESMERISM. 
 
 It was in the spring either of this year. 1822, or of the year 
 following, that Mr. Barham became a witness of one of those 
 extraordinary exhibitions of the influence of the imagination or 
 faith upon the bodily organs which forms, we are told by the 
 orthodox physicians, the basis of the ephemeral systems, 
 whether of the school of Mesmer or others, that are continually 
 springing up around us. With instances indeed of the in- 
 jurious effects which mental impressions are capable of pro- 
 "ducing upon the body, medical works abound. Dr. Hughes 
 Bennett, in his " Lectures on Clinical Medicine," No. iv. p. 
 1 74> gives one especially marvelous case of what he terms 
 " the predominance of ideas : " 
 
 " A butcher," he says, " was brought into a druggist's shop 
 (at Edinburgh ) from the market-place opposite, laboring un- 
 der a terrible accident. The man, on trying to hook up a 
 heavy piece of meat above his head, slipped, and the sharp hook 
 penetrated his arm, so that he himself was suspended. On 
 being examined, he was pale, almost pulseless, and expressed 
 himself as suffering acute agony. The arm could not be moved 
 without causing excessive pain, and in cutting off the sleeve he 
 frequently cried out ; yet when the arm was exposed it was 
 found to be quite uninjured, the hook having only traversed 
 the sleeve of his coat."
 
 72 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 The same author allows that, in like manner, so far from its 
 being improbable that real cures are occasionally effected 
 through the medium of the imagination, " all that we know of 
 the effects of confident promises on the one hand, .and belief 
 on the other, render it very likely that such have occurred." 
 
 The case that fell under Mr. Barham's observation was that 
 of an old friend, Major Hart. I can remember him (for he 
 was fond of children, fond, that is to say, of teasing them, 
 and children were of course fond of him), a slight, short man 
 with a pale face, white hair, and glittering eyes, and the 
 possessor of a certain bright shilling which was the object of 
 my thoughts by day and my dreams by night. As an officer 
 in the Rifle Brigade, he had seen a good deal of service ; had 
 been frequently and severely wounded ; and was now sinking 
 under a complication of disorders, of which partial paralysis 
 was one. He had become utterly prostrate. The country 
 doctors he was living, I believe, at Maidstone shook their 
 heads, and admitted they could do no more. Then it was that 
 some one whispered " Try mesmerism ! " Hart caught at 
 the suggestion at once. There was in London, at this time, 
 a professor of animal magnetism, whose fame had reached even 
 unto Maidstone. His success was wonderful. Every human 
 ill, old age scarcely excepted, was to be cured by some new 
 and occult process, of which he was the fortunate discoverer. 
 If men persisted in dying of disease, it was simply through 
 their own willfulness, obstinacy, and incredulity. To this man 
 the Major was determined to apply, and although he had been 
 for several weeks considered incapable of quiting his bedroom, 
 he insisted upon being placed in a carriage and conveyed to 
 my father's house in town. With the assistance of a servant, 
 the coachman, and Mr. Barham. he was removed from the 
 vehicle to the apartment prepared for him. After resting \\ 
 couple of days, during which he scarcely spoke, he was, in like 
 manner, lifted into a hackney coach and driven off to the res- 
 idence of the celebrated practitioner. The same care was 
 necessary and was observed in carrying the patient into the 
 consulting room, so completely unable was he to take a step,
 
 MESMERISM. 73 
 
 or even to stand, without the support of others. Placed 
 gasping into a chair he was submitted to the keen, and for 
 some time silent, examination of the doctor. At length the 
 latter turned to my father and spoke to this effect : 
 
 " You must be quite aware, sir, that exaggerated notions of 
 my invention, as of everything displaying great and incom- 
 prehensible power, have got abroad. I am not, however, the 
 charlatan that people would make me out. Sufferers are con- 
 stantly brought here to whom I can hold out no hope of relief, 
 and with whom I would rather have nothing to do. I am nev- 
 ertheless perhaps obliged to operate, and little or no good 
 follows. Now, sir, the case of your friend, on the contrary, I 
 undertake with the utmost satisfaction. It is in every par- 
 ticular, both as regards his temperament and the character of 
 his disorder, precisely the case adapted to the influence I shall 
 bring to bear upon it. I have never met a subject whom I 
 have approached with more perfect confidence. I stake my 
 reputation upon a cure." 
 
 " Credat Judceus ! " thought my father, and the gentleman 
 continued : 
 
 " A great effect will doubtless be produced this very morn- 
 ing, but it will be the work of some time, during which I re- 
 quire to be left alone with my patient. Call again in an hour 
 and you shall judge for yourself." 
 
 My father was inclined to object to the dismissal. " Better 
 go, Barham," said the Major in a tone distinct and clear, very 
 different from that he had hitherto employed, and Barham 
 went. He took the opportunity of transacting some business 
 in the neighborhood, by which he was detained a few minutes 
 beyond the time specified. Finding he was late, he took a 
 co^ch and drove back, with the intention of carrying away his 
 friend in it. 
 
 "Is Major Hart ready ? " he inquired of the servant who 
 opened the door. 
 
 " The Major, sir, was tired of waiting, so he has walked on ; 
 he said you would be sure to overtake him before he got home, 
 he should n't hurry."
 
 74 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 " Hurry ! " exclaimed my father, " why he can't move I 
 am speaking of the gentleman you helped to carry in." 
 
 " Yes, sir ; that is the gentleman he has walked on." 
 
 At this moment out came the doctor himself, " It is quite 
 true," he said ; " Major Hart has left the house, and insisted 
 upon walking." 
 
 " Impossible!" 
 
 " It is nevertheless so. His sensibility is even greater than 
 I expected to find it ; his cure will be proportionably rapid ; 
 meanwhile you had better perhaps overtake him as soon as 
 you can, and persuade him to ride the remainder of the dis- 
 tance." 
 
 Half pleased, half alarmed, and wholly bewildered, Mr. 
 Barham hurried away, and ere long caught sight of his friend 
 looking contentedly into the window of a print shop. The 
 change worked in him was certainly to all seeming nothing 
 short of miraculous. He could walk, use his limbs freely, was 
 free from pain, and in the highest possible spirits, overflowing 
 with gratitude to his benefactor and respect for science. He 
 admitted he was a little tired, so got into a coach and returned 
 to Queen Street. Towards evening his new strength gradually 
 died away. By next morning it was clean gone ; and on the 
 third day he was again all but speechless. A second visit to 
 the doctor was paid, and a repetition of the treatment at- 
 tempted, but faith had in the interval expired, and no further 
 effect could be produced. He said he would go back to Kent 
 and die comfortably at home. Happily he was enabled to 
 reach his home alive ; and the next news we heard of him was 
 that one sunny afternoon, as he sat by the window in his easy 
 chair with his Bible before him, he closed the book, lay back 
 and fell asleep, passing out of life so imperceptibly that his 
 niece, who was sitting opposite, was for some time unaware 
 that he was dead. 
 
 EDWARD CANNON. 
 
 His appointment in the Chapel Royal led to an acquaint- 
 ance, which quickly ripened into a warm friendship, with the
 
 EDWARD CANNON. 75 
 
 Rev. Edward Cannon, also one of the priests of the house- 
 hold, and who for many years previously had been on intimate 
 terms with the family of Mrs. Barham. This singular being, 
 introduced to the world under the name of Godfrey Moss, in 
 Theodore Hook's celebrated novel " Maxwell," claims some 
 notice, the more so as he has scarcely met with justice at the 
 hands of his facetious friend. 
 
 For a general idea of his mannerism, I can but refer to the 
 striking portrait referred to, one of the most perfect ever com- 
 mitted to paper. As he is there depicted, so precisely did he 
 live and move in daily life not an eccentricity is exagger- 
 ated, not an absurdity heightened i It is, however, to be 
 regretted that the great master restricted himself to the de- 
 lineating the less worthy features of the outward and visible 
 man, and touched but lightly those high and noble traits of 
 character which had gone far to relieve the mass of cynicism 
 and selfishness but too correctly drawn. 
 
 Mr. Cannon, was, in fact, both a spoiled and a disappointed 
 man. Brought up under the immediate care of Lord Thur- 
 low, his brilliant wit, his manifold accomplishments, and, as 
 may be hardly credited by those who knew him only in his 
 decline, his fascinating manners, procured him a host of dis- 
 tinguished admirers and proved an introduction to the table of 
 royalty itself. A welcome guest at Carlton House, Stow, and 
 other mansions of the nobility, patronized by the Lord Chan- 
 cellor, courted and caressed by men to say nothing of 
 women of the highest rank and influence, he might possi- 
 bly have become too extravagant or too impatient in his ex- 
 pectations : while more reasonable views would scarcely have 
 been met by a chaplaincy to the Prince of Wales, and a lect- 
 ureship at St. George's, Hanover Square the only prefer- 
 ment he ever obtained. This neglect, as he esteemed it, was 
 especially calculated to work evil on a disposition naturally 
 independent to a fault, and associated, as it was, with a humor 
 tinctured overmuch with bitterness. His caprices indulged 
 and fostered, and his hope delayed, he fell gradually into utter 
 disregard of all the amenities and conventional laws of society.
 
 76 KICHAKD HAKKJS BAKHAAT. 
 
 The extreme liberties he began to take, and the burst of sar- 
 casm, which he took the less heed to restrain as he advanced 
 in years, deprived him betimes of all his powerful patrons, 
 and at the last alienated most of his more attached friends. 
 
 At one of the annual dinners of the members of the Chapel 
 Royal, a gentleman had been plaguing Mr. Barham with a 
 somewhat dry disquisition on the noble art of fencing. Wish- 
 ing to relieve himself of his tormentor, the latter observed 
 that his crippled hand had precluded him from indulging in 
 that amusement ; but pointing to Cannon who sat opposite, 
 he added, " That gentleman will better appreciate you ; he 
 was an enthusiastic admirer of fencing in his youth." 
 
 After a few minutes the disciple of Angelo contrived to slip 
 round the table, and commenced a similar attack upon Can- 
 non. For some time he endured it with patience, till at 
 
 length, on his friend's remarking that Sir George D 
 
 was a great fencer, Cannon, who disliked the man, replied, 
 
 " I don't know whether Sir George D is a great fencer, 
 
 but Sir George D is a great fool." 
 
 A little startled, the other rejoined, " Well, possibly he is ; 
 but then a man may be both." 
 
 " So I see, sir ! " said Cannon, turning away. 
 
 As regards the circumstances which led immediately to his 
 dismissal from the palace, his conduct was certainly not 
 chargeable with blame, but was the natural working of an 
 unbending spirit which scorned to flatter even princes. 
 
 Possessing, in addition to the attractions of his conversa- 
 tion, the charm of a voice so unusually sweet as to have 
 gained him the name of Silver-tongue Cannon, he was ad- 
 mitted to the more select parties of the Prince of Wales, 
 where his great musical taste and talent not unfrequently pro- 
 cured him the honor of accompanying his royal master on the 
 pianoforte. On one occasion, at the termination of the piece, 
 the Prince inquired, " Well, Cannon, how did I sing that ?" 
 
 Cannon continued to run over the keys, but without making 
 any reply. 
 
 " I asked you, Mr. Cannon, how I sang that last song, and
 
 EDWARD CANNON. 77 
 
 I wish for an honest answer," repeated the Prince. Thus 
 pointedly appealed to, Cannon, of course, could no longer re- 
 main silent. 
 
 " I think, sir," said he, in his quiet and peculiar tone, " I 
 have heard your Royal Highness succeed better." 
 
 " Sale and Atwood," observed the latter sharply, " tell me I 
 sing that as well as any man in England." 
 
 " They, sir, may be better judges than I pretend to be," re- 
 plied Cannon. 
 
 George the Fourth was too well bred as well as too wise a 
 man to manifest open displeasure at the candor of his guest, 
 but in the course of the evening, being solicited by the lat- 
 ter for a pinch of snuff, a favor which had been hesitatingly 
 accorded a hundred times before, he closed the box, placed it 
 in Mr. Cannon's hand, and turned abruptly away. 1 A gentle- 
 man in waiting quickly made his appearance, for the purpose 
 of demanding back the article in question, and of intimating at 
 the same time that it would be more satisfactory if its possessor 
 forthwith withdrew from the apartment. 
 
 Cannon at first refused to restore what he chose to consider 
 no other than a present. 
 
 " The creetur gave it me with his own hand," he urged, " if 
 he wants it back let him. come and say so himself." 
 
 It was represented, however, that the Prince regarded its 
 detention in a serious light, and was deeply offended at the 
 want of respect which had led to it. The box was returned 
 without further hesitation, and Mr. Cannon retired for the last 
 time from the precincts of Carlton House. 
 
 He was, however, not a man to permit a single affront to 
 obliterate from his memory all traces of former kindness, and 
 accordingly, when the trial of Queen Caroline had excited so 
 much popular clamor against the Sovereign, Cannon was the 
 first, on the termination of that affair, to get up and present an 
 
 1 Cannon had previously succeeded in affronting Mrs. Fitzherbert. On being 
 asked by the lady what he thought of a new upright pianoforte which she had just 
 purchased, he replied, scarcely deigning to examine it, " I think, Madam, it would 
 make a very good cupboard to keep your bread and cheese in."
 
 78 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 address from the inhabitants of the Isle of Wight to his royal 
 master. Delighted at this seasonable exhibition of public 
 approval, and not untouched, it may be, by the conduct of his 
 former favorite, the King was all courtesy and condescension. 
 
 " You are not looking well, Cannon," he observed, at length. 
 
 " I am not so well, sir, as I have been," replied Cannon, 
 with a meaning smile. 
 
 " Well, well ! I must send Halford to prescribe for you," 
 said the King. Nor did this prove to be an idle compliment ; 
 in due time the physician of the household called, having it in 
 command to tender to the invalid his professional assistance, 
 and at the same time to intimate that he might expect to be 
 received again at the royal parties. This honor Mr. Cannon 
 bluntly and resolutely declined. On being pressed to give 
 some explanation of his refusal, he merely answered, 
 
 " I have been early taught when I want to say ' no ' and can 
 say ' no,' to say ' no ' but never give a reason " a maxim 
 which he had learned from his early protector, Lord Thurlow, 
 and a neglect of which, the latter used to boast, had enabled 
 him to carry an important point with his late Majesty George 
 III. 
 
 Thus it was : he had applied to that monarch on behalf of 
 his brother for the Bishopric of Durham, and having some- 
 what unexpectedly met with a refusal, he bowed and was about 
 to retire without pressing his suit, when the monarch, wishing 
 to soften his decision as far as possible, added, " Anything 
 else I shall be happy to bestow upon your relative, but this 
 unfortunately is a dignity never held but by a man of high rank 
 and family." 
 
 " Then, Sire," returned Lord Thurlow, drawing himself up, 
 <; I must persist in my request I ask it for the brother of the 
 Lord High Chancellor of England ! " 
 
 The Chancellor was firm, and the King was compelled to 
 yield. 
 
 "He gave me his reasons," said the former, "and I beat 
 him." 
 
 With respect to Mr. Cannon, although he thought fit to de-
 
 EDWARD CANNON. 79 
 
 cline giving any explanation at the time, he was not so re- 
 served on all occasions. 
 
 " The creetur," he said, " has turned me out of his house 
 once he shall not have the opportunity of doing so again." 
 
 Of the many anecdotes of the Chancellor narrated by Can- 
 non, I find but few preserved ; the following, however, are 
 given on his authority : 
 
 " The great Lord Thurlow passed the latter part of his life 
 at Brighton, and died there it is said, while swearing at his 
 servant. The present King (George IV.) having come down 
 to the Pavilion, invited him to dinner, but knowing his man, 
 thought proper to offer a sort of half apology for some of the 
 company, among whom were Sir John Lade, and several char- 
 acters of sporting notoriety. The sturdy old Chancellor lean- 
 ing upon his cane, and looking his Royal Highness full in the 
 face, replied, " Sir ! I make exceptions to no man. Sir John 
 Lade, for instance, whom your Royal Highness has thought 
 proper to mention by name, is an excellent character in his 
 proper place, but that, with all due deference, I humbly con- 
 ceive to be your Royal Highness's coach-box, and not your 
 table." 
 
 Again : 
 
 "A Mr. Sneyd, a tall, thin man, nicknamed by George IV. 
 ' The Devil's Darning Needle,' was much about Lord Thurlow 
 during his last years, and had a sort of roving commission 
 from him to pick up any stray genius he could lay hold of and 
 bring him to the old nobleman's table. Coming in the stage- 
 coach one day to Brighton Mr. Sneyd scraped an acquaintance 
 with a fellow-traveller who turned out to be the celebrated J. 
 P. Curran, and he eagerly invited his new friend to dine with 
 Lord Thurlow, but some accident prevented his own attend- 
 ance on the appointed day. Thurlow, who had heard much of 
 Curran, when the cloth was removed, led the conversation to 
 the state of the Irish bar, which Curran, who was at that time 
 red-hot against the Union, abused in the lump with great 
 vehemence. 
 
 "' Timidity, my lord, and venality,' said he, 'are the bane
 
 8O RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 of the Irish courts, and pervade them from the lowest to the 
 highest* 
 
 "'Indeed!' said Thurlow, 'pray what is the character of 
 
 Lord ? ' (naming a particular friend of his own then on 
 
 the Irish bench). 
 
 *' ' Oh,' replied Curran, ' never was man less fitted for his 
 position ; if he has any honesty in him, which is very prob- 
 lematical, he is infinitely too great a poltroon to let it ap- 
 pear.' 
 
 " ' Humph ! ' quoth the Chancellor ' a bad account of 
 him indeed, Mr. Curran. And pray what do you think then 
 
 of Lord ? ' (naming another old crony also in the same 
 
 rank). 
 
 " ' As to him,' said the barrister, ' he is ten thousand times 
 worse than the other. The venality of that man is such that 
 no person, however just and clear his case may be, can hope 
 for a verdict where he presides, unless he has contrived to 
 bribe his judge into justice. In fact these two form an ad- 
 mirable sample of Irish jurisprudence at it exists now all 
 venality and cowardice ! ' 
 
 "' In other words,' said the Chancellor, 'all the Irish law- 
 yers are rascals ? ' 
 
 " ' Pretty much so indeed, my lord.' 
 
 " Here the conversation stopped. The next day Lord 
 Thurlow attacked Mr. Sneyd for sending such a flippant fel- 
 low to his table, adding that he saw nothing whatever in him. 
 
 " ' Ah, my lord,' suggested Sneyd, ' that might be because 
 there was no one present to draw the trigger.' 
 
 " ' Sir,' replied the old nobleman, with one of his inveterate 
 frowns, ' ask him to dine here again to-morrow, and be sure 
 you are present and draw it yourself.' " 
 
 Whatever version of Cannon's reply to Sir Henry Halford 
 reached the King, and however much at first he may have 
 been disposed to resent the rejection of his advances, the 
 offender was nevertheless again forgiven and without being for- 
 gotten. One circumstance certainly deserves to be mentioned 
 as tending, in its degree, to invalidate those charges of self-
 
 EDWARD CANNON. 8l 
 
 ishness and want of feeling which have been so lavishly di- 
 rected against the best abused of all earthly monarchs. 
 
 Many years afterwards, when Cannon, who, though of in- 
 expensive tastes, was utterly regardless of money and almost 
 ignorant of its value, and who generally carried all he re- 
 ceived loose in his waistcoat pocket, giving it away to any 
 one who seemed to need it, was himself severely suffering 
 from the effects of ill-health and improvident liberality, the 
 King, who accidentally heard of his melancholy condition, in- 
 stantly made inquiries with a view of presenting him with 
 some piece of preferment that might have served as a perma- 
 nent provision ; but ascertaining that his habits had become 
 such as to render any advancement in the clerical profession 
 inexpedient, he, entirely unsolicited, sent his old favorite a 
 check for a hundred pounds. 
 
 This assistance proved most opportune and served to supply 
 immediate necessities. Cannon was staying at the time at a 
 small hotel on the banks of the Thames, near Twickenham, 
 from which he was unable, or rather unwilling to depart, till 
 his bill which had swollen to a somewhat formidable size was 
 discharged. Mr. Barham, therefore, and another friend has- 
 tened down to release him from a position which most people 
 would have deemed embarrassing in the extreme. They found 
 him, however, perfectly happy in his retirement ; clothed from 
 head to foot in mine host's habiliments, and, altogether, ap- 
 pearing so much better in health and spirits than could have 
 been anticipated, that Mr. Barham was led to address some 
 compliment to the landlady on the good looks of her guest. 
 
 " Well, sir, to be sure," replied that worthy personage, "we 
 have done our best to keep him tidy and comfortable, and if 
 you had only seen him last Sunday, when he was washed and 
 shai'ed, you really might have said he "*was looking well." 
 
 He had formed, it appeared, a close intimacy with a monkey 
 belonging to the establishment, and spent the principal por- 
 tion of his time in its society, exchanging it occasionally for 
 that of adventurous bipeds whom the steamboats, then " few 
 and far between," landed at the Eyot, according as he found 
 6
 
 82 RICHARD HARKIS BARHAM. 
 
 them more or less intelligent than his quadrupedal compan- 
 ion. 
 
 Like his friend, Cannon was one of those who gave full as- 
 sent to the poet's doctrine, 
 
 " The best of all ways 
 To lengthen our days 
 Is to steal a few hours from night," etc. 
 
 And so resolutely did he carry it out in practice when the 
 opportunity offered, as at times to cause no little inconvenience 
 to his entertainers. After a dinner, for example, given by Mr. 
 Stephen Price of Drury Lane Theatre, all the guests, with the 
 exception of Cannon and Theodore Hook, having long since 
 retired, the host, who was suffering from an incipient attack of 
 gout, was compelled to allude pretty plainly to the lateness of 
 the hour. No notice, however, was taken of the hint, and, 
 unable to endure any longer the pain of sitting up, Mr. Price 
 made some excuse and slipped quietly off to bed. On the fol- 
 lowing morning he inquired of his servant 
 
 " Pray, at what time did those gentlemen go last night ? " 
 "Go, sir!" replied John; "they are not gone, sir: they 
 have just rung for coffee ! " 
 
 It was not to be supposed that these eccentricities could 
 altogether escape episcopal observation, and although they 
 met with considerable indulgence, a rebuke was sometimes 
 unavoidable. Cannon, however, resented the slightest attempt 
 at interference with a warmth and jealousy, ill-advised, to say 
 the least of it. His hostility indeed to his diocesan, Dr. 
 Blomneld, was not altogether to be attributed to private feel- 
 ing ; and certainly it could not have been warranted by any 
 treatment experienced at his hands. Many, however, of the 
 bitter satires that appeared in the periodicals, directed against 
 certain proceedings of" this eminent individual, were from Can- 
 non's pen. More than one of the more powerful and more 
 personal of these Mr. Barium was fortunate enough to save 
 from publication. He borrowed the copy, and that once in 
 his possession, he knew that Cannon was too indolent a man 
 either to write another, or to persevere in demanding the
 
 EDWARD CANNON. 83 
 
 restoration of the original. Those, however, who have read 
 the " Dives and Lazarus," and " Lines written on the exclusion 
 of ill-dressed persons from seats in the Chapel Royal," though 
 they can scarcely fail to admit that nothing produced by 
 Byron or Churchill excelled them in pungency -will, neverthe- 
 less, consider their suppression justifiable even by an act of 
 friendly felony. 
 
 That much of this caustic spirit sprang from blighted pros- 
 pects, and was nurtured by the frequent supplies of his favor- 
 ite " ginnums and water," there can be little doubt ; his nat- 
 ural disposition was most amiable, and the kindness of his 
 heart, and his complete freedom from selfishness in matters 
 of importance, exhibited themselves in numberless instances, 
 and never more conspicuously than in a case of self-denial 
 which graced his declining days. He was summoned to the 
 bedside of an old and valued friend ; the lady (for a lady it 
 was like his "double," "Godfrey Moss," he had been a 
 lady-killer in his time) announced to him that believing her 
 health to be rapidly giving way she had made her will, by 
 which, at her demise, the whole of a considerable fortune was 
 to be placed at his disposal. Cannon looked at her doubt- 
 fully : - 
 
 " I don't believe it ! " he said, at length. 
 
 The lady assured him that she was incapable of trifling on 
 such a subject, and at such a moment ; and added, that the 
 document itself was lying in an escritoire in the room. 
 
 " I won't believe it," persisted the other, " unless I see it." 
 
 Smiling at such incredulity, the lady placed the will in his 
 hands. Cannon took it, and read it. 
 
 " Well," said he, " if I had not seen it in your own hand- 
 writing, I would not have believed you could have been such 
 an unnatural brute ; " and he deliberately thrust the paper be- 
 tween the bars of the grate. 
 
 " What," he continued, " have you no one more nearly con- 
 nected with you than I am, to leave your money to ? No one 
 who has better reason to expect to be your heir, and who has 
 a right to be provided for first and best ? Pooh ! you don't
 
 84 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 know how to make a will. I must send Dance, a very re- 
 spectable man in his way, red tape and parchment and all 
 that he shall make 'your will ; you may leave me a legacy, 
 there 's no harm in that. I am a poor man, and want it ; but 
 
 I am not a-going to be d to please you." 
 
 A new will was accordingly drawn up on Cannon's sug- 
 gestion, bequeathing to him merely a sum of four thousand 
 pounds. It will scarcely be credited that advantage was 
 afterwards taken of a technical informality (in ignorance, it is 
 to be hoped, of previous circumstances) to resist his claim 
 even to this. It appeared that two copies of the will were 
 executed ; one of which was retained in the custody of the 
 testatrix, while the other was handed over to the care of a 
 trustee. After a time, however, the lady sent for the dupli- 
 cate, which was returned to her ; and on her death the two 
 documents were found in a drawer folded up together. From 
 one every name except Cannon's had been snipped out with a 
 pair of scissors ; the other remained intact. Upon this it was 
 contended that by mutilating one copy the testatrix had can- 
 celed both ; and a precedent was alleged to be found in the 
 case of a gentleman who, taking with him to India one copy 
 of his will, which he subsequently destroyed, left another in 
 the charge of his solicitor at home. This on being produced 
 was pronounced void in virtue of the canceling of its fellow. 
 It was urged in answer, that the precedent did not apply, in- 
 asmuch as in the latter case the gentleman had revoked and 
 destroyed the only instrument which was within his power, 
 whereas in the former, both papers being in the hands of the 
 testatrix, there was nothing to prevent her destroying both if 
 she wished to make the revocation complete ; from her omit- 
 ting to do so it was to be inferred that she repented of the 
 change she had begun to make, and so reclaimed the unin- 
 jured copy of the will, to which she determined to adhere. 
 After the delay of more than a year a decision was given in 
 Cannon's favor, and the remainder of his life relieved from 
 further apprehension on the score of pecuniary distress. He 
 withdrew, shortly afterwards, to Ryde, in the Isle of Wight,
 
 THEATRICAL ANECDOTES. 85 
 
 taking his accustomed seat on the pier, with a pertinacity that 
 gained for him among the boatmen the sobriquet of the " Pier 
 Gun." Want of exercise, and the slow poison he became a 
 slave to, at length did their work. Like Swift to whom, in 
 the general structure of his mind, in the power of his reason- 
 ing, and in the peculiar bent of his humor, he bore no little 
 resemblance his last hours were such as might well have 
 aroused 
 
 " The bitter pangs of humbled genius ; " 
 
 they were those of one, 
 
 " Marked above the rest, 
 
 For qualities most dear, plunged from that height, 
 And sunk, deep sunk, in second childhood's night." 
 
 He died forgotten, and almost alone ; and it was left for a 
 comparative stranger to raise the simple tablet that pleads for 
 the memory of Edward Cannon. 
 
 THEATRICAL ANECDOTES. 
 
 " Diary : July 26, 1826. Dined with Lord Wiliam Lennox. 
 Mr. Fawcett of Covent Garden told a story of an old woman 
 and her daughter in a provincial town in Yorkshire. 
 
 " ' Mither,' says the girl, ' there do go Mr. Irby agen.' 
 
 " ' Ees, bairn, he be g'ween to ploy-house, I do suppose.' 
 
 " ' Mither, what do Mr. Irby do at ploy-house ? Him be 
 never on steage ? ' 
 
 " ' Nay, girl, him be prompter.' 
 
 " ' What be prompter, mither ? ' 
 
 " ' Why prompter, bairn, be mon wid book, and when all be 
 fast on steage, he lowses 'em.' 
 
 " He also gave us an anecdote of Cooper of C. G. T., when 
 on a provincial tour. The prompter of the company was a 
 drunken, one-eyed fellow, who, having been born at Kidder- 
 minster, was generally known at the theatre by the name of 
 ' Kiddy.' From frequent attacks of rheumatic gout, he had 
 become crippled in both his hands, and as the porter pot was 
 never absent, was compelled to support it by applying the
 
 86 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 knuckles of both his clenched fists in order to get it to his 
 mouth. One evening, during the performance of a new play, 
 all the dramatis persona on the stage came to a stand-still. 
 ' Kiddy ' was loudly called on for the cue, but having been 
 immersed for some minutes past, as usual, in contemplating 
 the interior of his flagon, he had lost the place, and embar- 
 rassed at the same time with the mug, he cried out to the 
 ' call-boy, ' in a tone of voice which was heard, and caused no 
 slight amusement in the stage boxes, 
 
 " ' Little boy, little boy, come here and hold de pot, while I 
 sees where these thieves be.' " 
 
 ANECDOTE OF INDIAN OFFICER. 
 
 " Cannon, who was present, and in most entertaining mood, 
 told, among other things, his story of a general officer who, 
 having passed many years of his life in India, was taken by a 
 friend, on his return, to dine with some common relation. All 
 parties being anxious to conciliate the nabob, who was rich, 
 old, and a bachelor, every attention was shown him during 
 dinner-time. The General, however, either from paucity of 
 ideas, or from his regards being riveted upon the good things 
 before him, was invincibly taciturn. 
 
 " ' Pray, General,' said a female cousin on his left, ' how do 
 you like India ?' 
 
 " ' Hot, ma'am,' said the commander, scarcely raising his 
 eyes from his basin of mulligatawney, ' Hot, very hot ! ' 
 
 " Another pause ensued, which was broken by her brother 
 on his right : 
 
 " ' General, we have heard much in England lately of the 
 increase of suttees in India : may I ask if the burning of a 
 Hindoo widow ever came under your personal notice ? ' 
 
 " ' Widow ! burning ! Oh, aye, it was very hot, sir, devil- 
 ish hot, never so hot in my life ! ' 
 
 " An excellent curry had now engaged his attention, when 
 the general was again addressed by a tall, thin, antiquarian- 
 looking personage, from the lower end of the table,
 
 CANNON'S SNUFF-TAKING. 87 
 
 " ' Pray, General, during the many years you spent in Asia, 
 did duty or inclination ever carry you into the neighborhood of 
 the celebrated caves of Elephanta ? ' 
 
 " ' Elephanta ! Oh, ah, Elephanta the caves of course. 
 Why, sir, it was very hot, devilish hot ; hot all the time I was 
 there ; never was so hot in all my life ; sir, it was as hot as 
 H !' 
 
 " This climax, delivered with the only spark of energy which 
 the worthy officer had as yet exhibited, completely precluded 
 any further attempt to engage him in conversation, and the 
 observant veteran was permitted to relapse into silence ; sev- 
 eral of the party, however, declaring the next morning that 
 they had derived much pleasure from their relation the Gen- 
 eral's interesting description of the state of our Oriental em- 
 pire. 
 
 CANNON'S SNUFF-TAKING. 
 
 " Repeate.d as much as I could recollect of the handbill 
 respecting Cannon. The latter having gone off into the Isle of 
 Wight with Vaughan, last Lent, without making any arrange- 
 ment for the performance of his duty at St. George's, Hanover 
 Square, a placard was, a few mornings after his arrival, affixed 
 nearly opposite his window at the Bugle Horn Hotel, near the 
 bottom of Ryde pier, to the following effect : 
 
 " ' STOLEN OR STRAYED ! 
 
 " ' A stout black horse of the punch breed. Face tan, with 
 a brown mark under the nostrils, coat rough, with brown spots, 
 aged, but has the teeth of a young one. Fore-feet blacker 
 than the hind. Is a little hard in the mouth, but gentle, having 
 been ridden by a lady ; goes a little lame on one leg, from 
 having been ill-driven in a buggy, and shies at a Chiirchbell; 
 supposed to have been carried off in Passion-week, by some 
 itinerant musicians, who have been traced into Hampshire. 
 Whoever will give information, etc.' "
 
 88 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 The brown mark under the nostrils, and the blackness of the 
 fore-feet mentioned in the description, are allusions to the 
 enormous quantity of snuff which Cannon was in the habit, 
 partly of taking, and partly of scattering right and left over 
 shirt, waistcoat, table, chair, carpet everything that he ap- 
 proached. Once, at the Chapel Royal he set the Bishop of 
 London sneezing through the whole of the Communion Ser- 
 vice, and afterwards when the Bishop remonstrated with him 
 on having produced an old, colored, cotton handkerchief dur- 
 ing the prayers, he merely asked in reply, ' Pray, does your 
 lordship take snuff ? ' 
 
 " Not if I can help it, Mr. Cannon." 
 
 " Ah, then, I do, my lord, a good deal." 
 
 His friend, John Wilson Croker, gave him, in lieu of the 
 fourpenny box which he commonly used, a very handsome 
 substitute having a gold cannon on the lid, and as a motto 
 " Non sine pulvere" 
 
 THE DIGNUM BROTHERS. 
 
 "August 15, 1826. Dined with the Girdlers' Company at 
 their Hall, after preaching to them at St. Michael Bassishaw, 
 Mr Taylor in the chair. Among the professional singers on 
 the occasion was poor old Dignum. Anecdote told of him 
 which I first heard from Nield, the lay vicar of St. Paul's. 
 Dignum, it seems, was complaining one morning to old Kny- 
 vett, the King's composer, that his health was much impaired, 
 and what was very extraordinary, that so strong a degree of 
 sympathy existed between him and his brother, that one was 
 no sooner taken ill than the other felt symptoms of the same 
 indisposition, whatever it might be. ' We are both of us 
 very unwell now,' added Dignum, ' and as our complaint is 
 supposed to be an affection of the lungs, we are ordered to 
 take asses milk, but unfortunately we have not been able to 
 get any, though we have tried all over London ; can you tell 
 us what we had better do ? '
 
 A KEW COMER. 89 
 
 " ' Do ? ' answered Knyvett, ' Why the deuce don't you 
 suck one another ! ' 
 
 A STRANGE FISH. 
 
 "December 3, 1826. Dined for the first time with Dr. 
 Sumner, Bishop of Llandaff, who told me as a fact that Dr. 
 
 R , a fellow of Eton, had some time since ordered one 
 
 of his ponds to be cleaned out. A great number of carp, 
 tench, eels, etc., were taken in the course of the operation. 
 The Doctor was at dinner with some friends who had been 
 viewing the work, when a servant came in to inform him that 
 in draining off the water the men had found a chalybeate, 
 ' Have they indeed ? ' cried he with much interest, ' I am very 
 glad to hear it. Tell them to put it along with the other fish 
 for the present.' 
 
 A KEW COMER. 
 
 "May 1 8, 1827. Harry Sandford (of the Treasury), Can- 
 non, Tom Hill, Sir Andrew Barnard, and myself, went up to 
 Twickenham by the steamboat. On the way we talked all 
 sorts of nonsense, and laughed at everything, and everybody. 
 A queer-looking old gentleman served especially to amuse 
 Sandford, who took a delight in quizzing him. 
 
 "'What is this bridge we're coming to?' asked the old 
 gentlemen of the skipper. 
 
 " ' Kew, sir,' returned the man. 
 
 " ' How dare you insult a respectable individual,' cried Sand- 
 ford, 'by insinuating that he is a Kew comer f 
 
 " One of the company asserting that he had seen a pike 
 caught, which weighed thirty-six pounds, and was four feet in 
 length, 
 
 " ' Had it been a sole,' said Harry, ' it would have sur- 
 prised me less, as Shakespeare tells us 
 
 " ' All the souls that are, were four feet (forfeit) once.' 
 
 " On Hill's remarking on the number of publicans who had 
 put up the Duke of Wellington's head over their doors, Sand-
 
 90 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 ford said, ' Yes, let his grace's death come when, and how it 
 may, you will never be able to say of him as King Henry does 
 of Cardinal Beaufort, 
 
 " ' He dies and makes no sign ! ' " 
 
 OLD FRIENDS SHOULD NOT BE PARTED. 
 
 "September I, 1827. Lord William Lennox and Mr. 
 George Hill (of the Blues) met Dick and myself at Parrock 
 House, where we slept last night. Went out shooting this 
 morning, killing eleven brace and a half of partridges ; dined 
 at two, and returned at four by the steamboat. On the voy- 
 age we had our profiles taken .by an artist on board for a 
 shilling a head, which he executed in ten seconds by the help 
 of a pair of scissors only. An old woman on board told some 
 of her friends who were very merry that, while she was at 
 Margate in the course of the summer, the friend at whose 
 house she had been staying had gone into the market for the 
 purpose of purchasing a goose. There were but two in the 
 whole place, offered for sale by a girl of fourteen, who re- 
 fused to part with one without the other, assigning no other 
 reason for her obstinacy than that it was her mother's order. 
 Not wishing for two geese, the lady at first declined the pur- 
 chase, but at last finding no other was to be had, and recol- 
 lecting that a neighbor might be prevailed upon to take one 
 off her hands, she concluded the bargain. Having paid for 
 and secured the pair, she asked the girl at parting if she 
 knew her mother's reason for the directions she had given. 
 ' Oh, yes ! mistress,' answered the young poultry-merchant 
 readily, ' mother said that they had lived together eleven years, 
 and it would be a sin and a shame to part them now ! ' ' 
 
 LUTTREL'S EPIGRAM. 
 
 " September 20, 1827. Walpole, Lord William, and Can- 
 non dined here. Cannon repeated Luttrel's epigram on the 
 illness of the King when Regent :
 
 THOMAS HILL. 9! 
 
 '" The Regent, sir, is taken ill, 
 
 And all depends on Halford's skill. 
 " Pray what," inquired the sage physician, 
 " Has brought him to this sad condition?" 
 
 When Bloomfield ventured to pronounce, 
 " A little too much Cherry Bounce." 
 
 The Regent hearing what was said, 
 
 Raised from the couch his aching head, 
 
 And cried " No, Halford, 't is not so ! 
 
 Cure us, O Doctor, Curafoa I " ' " 
 
 THE DUCHESS OF ST. ALBANS. 
 
 " October 28, 1827. Dined at Dr. Hughes's. He read, from 
 a letter of Southey, the Laureate, a humorous account of his 
 first introduction to the Duchess of St. Albans, ci-devant 
 Miss Mellon, alias Mrs. Coutts : ' I begin to think with Sir 
 William Curtis that wonders will never have done ceasing. 
 Here have I been hooked into an acquaintance with a duchess, 
 and partaken of a potatoe-pie of her grace's own making ! I 
 could tell you much of her bonnet, which our vicar has already 
 compared to a banyan-tree. I could say much of her lip, 
 which would seem to bespeak her a Nazarite from her moth- 
 er's womb,' etc. This led the conversation to her Grace's 
 habits and manners, when it was mentioned that, while an 
 actress, Miss Mellon was the terror of the green-room from 
 her violence, and that on one occasion, having taken offense 
 at something said about her by Horace Twiss, she went up 
 to Mrs. Henry Siddons, while sitting on a sofa, and addressed 
 her, to her no small consternation, ' Madam, you may tell 
 that rascal of a Twiss that the first time I meet him in a room 
 I will shave his head with a poker ! ' ' 
 
 THOMAS HILL. 
 
 Mr. Hill is the Mr. Hull of "Gilbert Gurney," and he 
 furnished the subject of Mr. Poole's admirable comedy, 
 " Paul Pry." " Pooh pooh ! everybody must happen to know 
 that." It may not, however, be so generally known that to 
 his spirit of inquiry was owing the discovery of the celebrated 
 American sea-serpent. Such was the fact ! Hill was in the
 
 92 Kl CHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 constant habit of visiting Mr. Stephen Price, the manager of 
 Drury Lane, at his room in the theatre, and the latter soon 
 found, to his surprise, that much that fell from him in conver- 
 sation relating to engagements, the receipts of " the house," 
 together with portions that he might have communicated of 
 his American correspondence, appeared next day in the col- 
 umns of the " Morning Chronicle." 
 
 " When I discovered this, sir," said Price, " I gave my 
 friend a lie a day ! " and accordingly the public were soon 
 treated with the most extraordinary specimens of Transatlan- 
 tic intelligence ; among the rest, with the first falling in with 
 the body of a sea monster, somewhere about the Bermudas, 
 and the subsequent appearance of his tail, some hundred 
 miles to the northeast. 
 
 " Well, my dear boy," used to exclaim the credulous visitor 
 on entering the manager's sanctum, " any news ; any fresh 
 letters from America ? " 
 
 " Why, sir," would reply Price, with the utmost gravity, " I 
 have been just reading an extract, sent under cover, from 
 Captain Lobcock's log ; they 've seen, sir, that d d long sea- 
 sarpant again ; they came upon his head, off Cape Clear, 
 sir ! " 
 
 And so the hoax continued, till the proprietors of the jour- 
 nal which was made the vehicle for these interesting accounts, 
 finding they were not received with the most implicit faith, 
 unkindly put a stop to any further insertions on the subject. 
 
 A PARADOX. 
 
 "Diary: November 18, 1827. Coming home in the even- 
 ing from the Chapel Royal, where I had been doing duty, I 
 overtook in the Strand two lads, having much the appearance 
 of linen-drapers' shopmen, and endeavoring to smoke certain 
 abominations under the semblance of cigars ; both of them 
 very tipsy. The obliquity of their motions, which resembled 
 that sort of progress called by sailors ' tack and half tack,' 
 rendered it difficult to pass them, and while thus kept, half 
 voluntarily, half compulsorily, following in their wake, I heard 
 the following conundrum put by the shorter one to his friend.
 
 A DUBIOUS ACQUAINTANCE. 93 
 
 " ' I say, Tom, do you know where that place is in the world 
 where two friends, let them be ever so intimate as good 
 friends as you and me, Tom can't be half an hour together 
 without quarreling ? Now there is a paradox for you ! ' 
 
 " ' A what ? a Paradise ? ' 
 
 " ' No, you fool, a paradox? 
 
 " ' A paradox is it ? Very well, and what 's that ? ' 
 
 " ' What, don't you know what a paradox is ? Why, a para- 
 dox is a what a fool you must be not to know what 's a 
 paradox ; it 's a sort of oh, it 's no good talking to a chap 
 that don't know what a paradox is ! ' 
 
 " Here the speaker relapsed into an indignant silence, which 
 he maintained till I was obliged to pass them, and I remain to 
 this hour as ignorant of the meaning, or rather solution (for 
 meaning it may have none), of the conundrum, as his antipara- 
 doxical ally." 
 
 A DUBIOUS ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 On his first arrival in London, Mr. Barham had become ac- 
 quainted with a young man named Graham, who may be re- 
 membered as moving some years ago in respectable literary 
 circles ; he was possessed of considerable intellectual attain- 
 ments, a prepossessing appearance, and very pleasing manners. 
 The history of his career, detailed in the following extract, is 
 not without interest, presenting, as it does, the melancholy 
 spectacle of one endowed with great abilities, all blighted and 
 rendered barren through want of principle. 
 
 "December 2, 1827. Dined with Price, the manager of 
 Drury Lane Theatre. The company were Const the mag- 
 istrate, Tom Hill, Jerdan, Broderip, Braham the singer, and 
 myself. Braham sang beautifully Had some conver- 
 sation with Price respecting W. Graham, late editor of ' The 
 Literary Museum,' whom I knew well when he filled that situa- 
 tion. He was a tall, slight, gentlemanly young man ; rather, 
 but not offensively, dandified, and with abilities and informa- 
 tion which might have made him anything he chose to be. He 
 was, I found, on comparing notes with Price, an American by
 
 94 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 birth, and at the age of seventeen had committed a forgery on 
 a person of high respectability at Philadelphia. He was de- 
 tected, but pardoned by the gentleman whom he had attempted 
 to defraud, on account of his youth, and out of regard to his 
 family, but on the express condition that he should leave the 
 country. Graham went, at first, no farther than New York, 
 where Mr. Price was then practicing at the American Bar. 
 The latter received a letter from the gentleman alluded to, 
 requesting him to call on the young man, and either compel 
 him to quit America forthwith, or send him back in custody 
 to Philadelphia. This commission Price executed to the letter, 
 allowing him four days for departure ; and Graham, sailing for 
 England, landed at Plymouth. Here he was for a short time 
 in the company of Mr. Foote, the manager of the Plymouth 
 Theatre, and father to the (subsequently) celebrated Miss 
 Foote, of Covent Garden Theatre, to whose Juliet, I have 
 heard him say, he played Romeo ; he also performed the part 
 of Frederic in ' The School of Reform,' she playing the 
 heroine. With Miss Foote he was, according to his own ac- 
 count, much ' smitten ' at the time, and to this early attach- 
 ment was owing several of his rhyming effusions later in life ; 
 one I recollect ran the round of the newspapers, and was at- 
 tributed to others, but I have heard Graham claim it. The 
 only verse I can call to mind runs : 
 
 ' Had I the land that *s in the Strand, 
 
 Gentles, I beg your pardon, 
 I'd give each Foot, and more to boot, 
 For one of Covent Garden.' 
 
 " An opportunity occurring for a literary engagement in 
 London, Graham came to town, when he distinguished him- 
 self as a contributor to the magazines, and other periodicals. 
 It was about this time I first knew him. A gentleman with 
 whom he had become acquainted in the course of business 
 had, I understood, taken a great fancy to him, had sent him 
 for a while to Cambridge, and at his death bequeathed him an 
 annuity of 3oo/. This, however, was soon disposed of, and the 
 sum raised was, according to some accounts, lost in specula-
 
 A DUBIOUS ACQUAINTANCE. 95 
 
 tion, while others said it was spent in debauchery. Of this I 
 know nothing ; the only reason I ever had for suspecting he 
 was of a dissipated turn, was an account he himself once gave 
 me, when we met accidentally that a young woman had 
 that evening called at his lodgings in a hackney-coach, and (I 
 think on his declining to see her) had cut her throat on the 
 spot. She was not dead at the time he mentioned this, and 
 the result I never learned. The nature of this circumstance, 
 and the want of feeling exhibited in the recital, were of course 
 sufficient to check any favorable opinion I might have formed 
 of him, and to replace our acquaintance on the most distant 
 footing. 
 
 " When Mr. Price first came to London, with the view of 
 taking a lease of Drury Lane Theatre, he was walking one 
 evening with a friend in the lobby of that house, when he met 
 Graham, but without recognizing him ; the latter, however, 
 watched his opportunity, and drawing him aside, inquired if 
 he did not recollect him. 
 
 " ' Why, sir,' said Price, ' I have certainly seen you before, 
 but where, and under what circumstances, I cannot at present 
 call to mind. The impression I feel, however, respecting you 
 is a painful one ; and it strikes me that either in my profes- 
 sional capacity, or otherwise, I have seen you involved in 
 some disgrace.' 
 
 " Graham did not hesitate to prompt a memory which 
 further reflection might render less treacherous, but avowed 
 himself at once, adding that he was now prospering and fill- 
 ing a respectable situation in the world, and begging Price 
 not to betray that they had ever met before. This Price 
 promised. Some short time after, the latter was called to 
 dine with Mr. R , to whom he had been recently intro- 
 duced ; Graham was also asked for the same day, and had 
 unhesitatingly accepted the invitation, but happening after- 
 wards to hear that he would meet his countryman Mr. Price, 
 he at once recollected ' a previous engagement at Chelsea,' 
 and that in so marked a manner that his friend perceived it 
 was a disinclination to meet the person he had just named
 
 96 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 which occasioned his retracting. He of course said no more 
 to Graham ; but having a very slight acquaintance at the time 
 with Mr. Price, actually went to a common friend to ask ' if 
 he were quite sure of Mr. Price's respectability, as Graham 
 evidently would not meet him ? ' 
 
 " The real state of the case he did not learn for a long time 
 after, when Graham, having run through all he possessed or 
 could borrow, drew several forged bills on Mr. C. Knight, Mr. 
 Whitaker, and others, and absconded with the money. He 
 succeeded in returning to America, and there became sub- 
 editor of a periodical paper, when a quarrel arising between 
 him and a young man at a dinner party, Graham struck him ; 
 a challenge was the consequence, and the assailant, being 
 shot through the body at the first fire, died almost immedi- 
 ately. This happened in the autumn of 1827." 
 
 JOHN WILSON. 
 
 "May 14, 1828. Acted as one of the stewards of the 
 Literary Fund dinner with Lord F. L. Gower, Mr. Buckingham 
 the traveller, Bishop of Winchester (Sumner), Hobhouse, 
 Colonel Fitzclarence, and others. Duke of Somerset in the 
 chair. Fitzgerald the poet spouted as usual, and broke down. 
 Cannon observed ' Poeta nascitur son Fitz I beg his pardon, 
 I am afraid I am wrong in a letter ! ' Supped afterwards with 
 Blackwood of Edinburgh, who dined with us, at his rooms 
 at the Somerset Coffee House. Jerdan, Crofton Croker, Rev. 
 M. Stebbing present, with whom was passed an extremely 
 pleasant evening, till 'Ebony' fell asleep. Amusing story 
 told of John Wilson, the Professor of Morality, editor of 
 'Blackwood's Magazine,' and my old college acquaintance. 
 He had taken Mrs. Wilson, her sister, and her sister's hus- 
 band, in the summer of 1824, to the inn at Bowness for the 
 purpose of viewing the Lake district. On the nv>rning after 
 their arrival the gentlemen walked out, leaving the ladies at 
 their breakfast. Suddenly the latter were most unceremoni- 
 ously broken in upon by Lord M , a young nobleman 
 
 recently expelled from Christ Church, and three of his com-
 
 JOHN WILSON. 97 
 
 panions, one of whom was in orders. In spite of the inter- 
 ference of the landlady, they acted very rudely, insisting on 
 saluting the ladies, and in the scuffle overturned the table. 
 Having been with much difficulty induced to quit the room, 
 they next proceeded to stroll by the margin of the magnifi- 
 cent piece of water in the immediate vicinity. On his return, 
 Mr. Wilson was made acquainted by the landlady with what 
 had occurred in his absence, and became, as may be supposed, 
 violently angry. In vain did his brother-in-law and the ladies 
 endeavor to pacify him, and as they locked the door to prevent 
 his going in search of the intruders, he sprang through the 
 window, and made off to the shore of the lake, where he 
 found the party amusing themselves with throwing stones into 
 the water. Instantly addressing them, he insisted on knowing 
 
 which was Lord M . The gentlemen at first were silent, 
 
 but on his declaring, if he were not informed, he should 
 treat the person nearest as the object of his inquiry, his lord- 
 ship avowed himself, and was immediately knocked down ! 
 The other three closed on the Professor ; but he, being a 
 very athletic man, as well as possessed of considerable skill 
 in the art of boxing, soon gave the whole four a very severe 
 drubbing, and compelled them to apologize for their improper 
 conduct. The next morning the clergyman, mounting a very 
 respectable pair of black eyes, called on him, having learnt 
 his name in the interval, and renewing his excuses, hinted 
 that for the sake of all parties it would be better that the 
 affair should be buried in silence. Mr. Wilson replied that 
 he was not in the least ashamed of what he had done, and 
 that if his Professor's grown had been on his back at the time 
 he should have had no hesitation in laying it aside on such an 
 occasion ; but that his object of inflicting a due chastise- 
 ment having been accomplished, any publicity which might 
 arise would be owing only to their own indiscretion, as he 
 should think no more of the matter. And thus the affair 
 terminated."
 
 98 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 A GHOST STORY. 
 
 With his vivid imagination, and appreciation of the marvel- 
 ous, it is not to be altogether wondered at if Mr. Btirham him- 
 self appeared a little disposed to give credence to the existence 
 of things undreamed of in our philosophy. 
 
 People who heard him narrate some tale of mystery with a 
 dramatic power and flow of impressive language that riveted 
 the attention of a youthful audience, whom he always loved to 
 amuse, and with whom he loved to be amused, might easily 
 allow the undercurrent of humor to escape their notice. And 
 really he seemed at times to endeavor to persuade himself 
 into credulity, much in the way that some people strive to con- 
 vict themselves of a bodily ailment. He sought, as it were, to 
 lull reason to sleep for a while, and leave an uninterrupted 
 field for the wildest vagaries of fancy. Unlike poor Lidy 
 Cork, whose enjoyment of " her murders " sensibly declined, 
 he never lost his relish for a "good ghost story ; " nothing 
 delighted him more than to listen to unless it were to tell 
 one of those " true histories," properly fitted with the full com- 
 plement of names, dates, and locale, attested by " living wit- 
 nesses of unblemished reputation," and hedged in on all sides 
 by circumstantial evidence of the most incontrovertible nat- 
 ure ; one, in short, of those logical cuts de sac which afford no 
 exit but by unceremoniously kicking down the opposing bar- 
 rier. It was Sir Walter Scott, I believe, who was thus driven 
 to extricate himself from a dilemma of this sort, when, luin^ 
 asked " how he accounted " for some strange tale he had re- 
 lated on no less authority than that of his own grandmother, 
 he was forced io reply, after some deliberation, " Aiblins my 
 grandmither was an awfu' leear ! " 
 
 That the lovers of well-authenticated ghost stories owe a 
 good deal of their delectation to the ingenuity of the "awfu' 
 leears " is, I fear, not to he gainsaid. The diary seems to sup- 
 ply an instance with which this chapter may conclude : 
 
 " It is a singular thing that, of all the numerous writers who 
 have told this celebrated ghost story (that of Sir George
 
 THOMAS HVME. 99 
 
 Villiers ' ), not one that I have ever seen has alluded to a story 
 precisely similar in all its details which is recorded by the 
 Due de St. Simon, in the first volume of his memoirs, as hav- 
 ing happened to Louis XIV. A man brings the same message 
 of secret advice, together with a secret known only to the 
 King himself, which he declares he has received three differ- 
 ent times from a phantom representing the late Queen, in the 
 forest of St. Germain, and which had been confided to the 
 speaker for the purpose of securing attention to his message. 
 The King receives the man more than once, rebukes his min- 
 isters for thinking him mad. and treats the whole business 
 very gravely, ordering the messenger to be provided for com- 
 fortably in his own sphere of life for the rest of his days. This 
 happened in 1691, and St. Simon conjectures it to have been 
 a trick of Maintenon's to induce Louis to own their marriage. 
 It is difficult to believe that one of these stories is not a mere 
 variation of the other." 
 
 THOMAS HUME. 
 
 One of the earliest and closest intimacies which Mr. Barham 
 contracted, after his settlement in London, was with Dr. 
 Thomas Hume, who, like Cannon, had been for many previous 
 years a constant guest of Dr. Bond, the husband of Mrs. Bar- 
 ham's sister, at Han well. Hume must have been naturally a 
 man of strange temper, and time and circumstances had com- 
 bined to deepen his peculiarities. Tall, upright, stern, with a 
 cold, colorless, impassive face over which a smile rarely flitted, 
 
 1 The particulars of the Villiers story are briefly these : A certain M . Twose, an 
 old school-fellow of Sir George Villiers, father of the first Duke of Buckingham, 
 being asleep in his lodging in Drury Lane, was disturbed by the apparition of the 
 knight, who enjoined him to visit the Duke and admonish him as to his conduct and 
 policy, and assure him, if he attended to the warning, of life and prosperity, but to 
 predict his death before St. Bartholomew's Day if he neglected it. The man not 
 obeying, the visit was repeated thrice, and on the last occasion the ghost told him 
 certain secrets to be used as credentials. Mr. Twose, having with difficulty obtained 
 access to the Duke, delivered the message. The Duke, on receiving it, consulted 
 with his mother, who was much affected, but paid himself no further heed to the ad- 
 monition, and was soon after assassinated at Portsmouth by Kelton, as he was about 
 to set out for the relief of Rochelle, then besieged by the French.
 
 IOO RICHAKD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 he was assuredly not one either to invite or to accept any hasty 
 demonstration of friendship. There was, indeed, something 
 cynical about him which had the effect of keeping people in 
 general at a distance ; and at a distance people in general 
 were best pleased to keep. The absence of all outward show 
 of geniality, and the seeming want of sympathy which he dis- 
 played, rendered it impossible for mere acquaintances to feel 
 at ease in his company. And yet, notwithstanding his repel- 
 lant manner, he was blessed with a heart warm, true, and 
 largely generous qualities which endeared its possessor to a 
 chosen few, among whom may be numbered Thomas Moore 
 and my father. Moreover, he was a perfect gentleman an 
 Irish gentleman, and endowed with a courteous gravity of 
 demeanor which lent an uncommon force to anything of a 
 sarcastic turn to which he might be provoked into giving ut- 
 terance. 
 
 One instance, in particular, of his dry humor my father 
 used to relate. They had walked together to the office of one 
 of the morning newspapers, and there the doctor silently placed 
 upon the counter an announcement of the death of some 
 friend, together with five shillings, the usual charge for the 
 insertion of such advertisements. The clerk glanced at the 
 paper, tossed it on one side, and said gruffly, " Seven and 
 six ! " 
 
 " I have frequently," replied Hume, "had occasion to pub- 
 lish these simple notices, and I have never before been charged 
 more than five shillings." 
 
 " Simple ! " repeated the clerk without looking up ; " he 's 
 universally beloved and deeply regretted ! Seven and six." 
 
 Hume produced the additional half-crown and laid it delib- 
 erately by the others, observing as he did so, with the same 
 solemnity of tone he had used throughout^ " Congratulate 
 yourself, sir, that this is an expense which your executors will 
 never be put to." 
 
 Dr. Hume was, as I observed, an Irishman ; he was in the 
 army, had done some service, and had attained, I believe, the 
 rank of physician to the forces. He was married twice : in his
 
 THOMAS HUME. IOI 
 
 first choice he was not fortunate ; and to this early disappoint- 
 ment of his hopes something of the sternness of his disposi- 
 tion is in fairness to be attributed. His first wife was the 
 daughter of a clergyman, rector of a parish which now may al- 
 most be reckoned in the suburbs of London, whose tragic end 
 shocked the town some sixty years ago, and has since been 
 introduced in at least one work of fiction. The particulars, as 
 my father heard them on good authority, are certainly remark- 
 able. The gentleman, whom I need designate no further than 
 by the initial G , was a tolerably well-known, and accom- 
 plished member of society, an elegant scholar, distinguished 
 for much of that facility in the composition of Latin verse 
 which has rendered Father Prout famous, and one who called 
 great folks even royal dukes his friends. More than one 
 of these illustrious personages occasionally did him the honor 
 of visiting his rectory. As maybe supposed, he was not long in 
 finding out that the entertaining royalty is a sort of hospitality 
 far too splendid for the fortune of a simple clergyman. Per- 
 haps, like so many men under the like circumstances, and yet 
 without reason, he vaguely hoped that something would be 
 done for him. But whether or not he had been beguiled by 
 others, or by himself, in this respect, one thing was clear the 
 something was too long a-doing ! Ruin was inevitable, and 
 was at hand ! Resolving to anticipate the wreck, he got to- 
 gether all that was available of his remaining property and 
 departed suddenly and secretly for London. It so happened 
 that one of his friends, residing at Hanwell, had invited him 
 to join a party at dinner on the following clay. The guests, 
 
 with the exception of Mr. G , arrived in due time. At 
 
 first there was the usual disposition shown, on the part of the 
 host, to await his coming; then a little whispering among 
 the gentlemen took place ; and by degrees a gloom, felt but 
 not comprehended by all, stole over the company, who sat 
 down to table without the rector and quitted it at an unusually 
 early hour. It was not till the next morning that the hostess 
 (a near relative of my own) was informed of the cause of her 
 friend's absence. A rumor of its nature had reached the vil-
 
 102 RICHARD HARRIS BAR HAM. 
 
 lage the day before, and had been communicated to her hus 
 band in the drawing-room ; the report was now confirmed, and 
 there was no further use in maintaining silence on the subject. 
 
 Mr. G , it appeared, had reached London safely and had 
 
 been driven to one of the large coaching inns in the city ; I 
 believe it was " The Spread Eagle," in Gracechurch Street. 
 Here he supped and retired, as it was supposed, to rest, hav- 
 ing given orders to be called in the morning in time to enable 
 him to start off by the first stage bound for Dover. Noises, it 
 came out afterwards, were heard in the course of the night 
 proceeding from his room, but as they probably had not reached 
 the ears of any of the servants of the house, no notice was 
 taken of the occurrence. At the appointed hour " boots " 
 rapped at the traveller's door. No answer was returned ; the 
 summons was repeated, but in vain. The man became alarmed, 
 called his master, under whose directions the door was forced, 
 and a strange and shocking sight was disclosed. Suspended 
 from the bedstead, strangled and long dead, hung the occu- 
 pant of the apartment. Bed and bedding were tumbled in 
 confusion on the floor ; every article of clothing, the curtains, 
 even the sheets, were torn to shreds and scattered in all 
 directions ; the furniture was overthrown and broken, and the 
 work of destruction was completed by the self-murder of its 
 perpetrator. For some little time no clew to the mystery could 
 be gained, but ere long a discovery was effected by means the 
 most unlooked for. A hackney coachman was taken into cus- 
 tody for drunkenness. On being examined by the police there 
 was found in his possession a pocket-book containing bank 
 notes for a very large amount. Inquiry elicited the fact that 
 he had lately obtained change for others ; and. finding evasion 
 impossible, the man confessed that he had a few days before 
 driven a gentleman to the inn in question, and that, on exam- 
 ining the carriage after depositing his fare, a pocket-book lying 
 among the straw at the bottom caught his eye, and he could 
 not resist the temptation to appropriate its contents. Mean- 
 while the wretched owner evidently had not become aware of 
 his loss till he had reached his bed-room. Then there must
 
 CHARLES MATHEWS THE ELDER. 1 03 
 
 have flashed upon him the hopelessness and horror of his po- 
 sition a penniless fugitive, with disgrace and ruin confront- 
 ing him turn which way he would ! One may well imagine the 
 despair and agony which accompanied the frantic search for 
 his treasure, and finally the mania which drove him to his 
 death. 
 
 CHARLES MATHEWS THE ELDER. 
 
 In 1829 Mr. Barham appears to have met for the first time, 
 at the table of their common friend, Theodore Hook, Charles 
 Mathews the elder. Their acquaintance was of some years' 
 duration, but never reached intimacy ; it was accompanied, 
 nevertheless, certainly on the part of Mr. Barham, by feelings 
 of no ordinary regard. It may, indeed, be questioned whether 
 the golden opinions won by this accomplished actor in his pro- 
 fessional career upon the stage were more than commensurate 
 with the esteem which he inspired in private life. 
 
 " Diary : May 5, 1 829. Dined at Hook's. Horace Twiss, 
 Lord W. Lennox, Jerdan, Cannon, Mathews, Yates, Professor 
 Millington, Allan Cunningham, Price, Denham, brother to 
 Colonel Denham the traveller, Milan Powell, F. Broderip, 
 Doctors Arnott and Whimper, with myself, formed the party. 
 Sir A. Barnard being engaged with the king, Lockhart with 
 his wife, and Charles Kemble laid up with a bilious attack. 
 Mathews told an excellent story of an Irish surgeon named 
 Maseres, who kept a running horse, and who applied to him 
 on one occasion for his opinion respecting a disputed race. 
 
 " ' Now, sur,' commenced the gentleman, ' Mr. Mathews, 
 as you say you understand horse-racing, and so you do, I '11 
 just thank ye to give me a little bit of an opinion, the least 
 taste in life of one. Now, you '11 mind me, sur, my horse had 
 won the first hate, well, sur, and then, he 'd won the second 
 hate, well " 
 
 " ' Why, sir,' said Mathews, ' if he won both the heats, he 
 won the race.' 
 
 " ' Not at all, my dear fellow, not at all. You see he won 
 the first hate, and then, somehow, my horse fell down, and 
 then the horse (that 's not himself, but the other), came up "
 
 IO4 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 " * And passed him, I suppose,' said Mathews. 
 
 " ' Not at all, sur, not at all ; you quite mistake the gist of the 
 matter. Now, you see, my horse had lost the first hate " 
 
 "'Won it, you mean at least, won it, you said.' 
 
 " ' Won it ! of course, I said won it ; that is, the other horse 
 won it, and the other horse, that is, my horse, won the second 
 hate, when another, not himself, comes up and tumbles down 
 but stop ! I '11 demonstrate the circumstances ocularly. 
 There you '11 keep your eye on that decanter ; now, mighty 
 well ; now, you '11 remember that 's my horse, that is, I mane it 's 
 not my horse, it's the other, and this cork you observe this 
 cork this cork 's my horse, and my horse, that is this cork, 
 had won the first hate ' 
 
 " ' Lost it, you said, sir, just now,' groaned Mathews, rapidly 
 approaching a state of complete bewilderment. 
 
 " ' Lost it, sur, by no manes ; won it, sur, I maintain 'pon 
 my soul, your friend l there that 's grinning so is a mighty bad 
 specimen of an American no, sur, won it, I said ; and now I 
 want your opinion about the hate, that is, not the hate, but the 
 race, you know, not, that is, the first hate, but the second hate, 
 that would be the race when it was won.' 
 
 " ' Why, really, my dear sir,' replied the referee, ' I don't pre- 
 cisely see the point upon which ' - 
 
 " ' God bless me, sur ! do ye pretind to understand horse- 
 racing, and can't give a plain opinion on a simple matter of 
 hates f Now, sur, I '11 explain it once more. The stopper, 
 you are aware, is my horse, but the other horse that is, the 
 other man's horse,' etc., etc. 
 
 " And so poor Maseres went on for more than an hour, and 
 no one could tell at last which horse it was that fell ; whether 
 he had won the first hate, or lost it ; whether his horse was the 
 decanter or the cork ; or what the point was, upon which Mr. 
 Maseres wanted an opinion." 
 
 1 Mr. Stephen Price.
 
 THE PORTSMOUTH GHOST STORY. 105 
 
 THE PORTSMOUTH GHOST STORY. 
 
 " A story with much more of the supernatural about it was 
 related to me by Mrs. Hughes the other day, which is, I think, 
 one of the best authenticated ghost stories in existence. It 
 was narrated to her by Mrs. Hastings, wife of Captain Hast- 
 ings, R. N., and ran to the following effect : 
 
 " Captain and Mrs. Hastings were driving into Portsmouth 
 one afternoon, when a Mr. Hamilton, who had recently been 
 appointed to a situation in the dockyard there, made a third in 
 their chaise, being on his way to take possession of his post. 
 As the vehicle passed the end of one of the narrow lanes 
 which abound in the town, the latter gentleman, who had for 
 some little time been more grave and silent than usual, broke 
 through the reserve which had drawn a remark from the lady, 
 and gave the following reason for his taciturnity : 
 
 " ' It was,' said he, ' the recollection of the lane we have 
 just passed, and of a very singular circumstance which occurred 
 to me at a house in it some eighteen years ago, which occupied 
 my thoughts at the moment, and which, as we are old friends, 
 and I know you will not laugh at me, I will repeat to you. 
 
 "'At the period alluded to, I had arrived in the town for the 
 purpose of joining a ship in which I was about to proceed 
 abroad on a mercantile speculation. On inquiry, I found that 
 the vessel had not come round from the Downs, but was ex- 
 pected every hour. The most unpleasant part of the business 
 was, that two or three king's ships had just been paid off in the 
 harbor, a county election was going on, and the town was filled 
 with people waiting to occupy berths in an outward bound 
 fleet which a contrary wind had for some days prevented from 
 sailing. This combination of events, of course, made Ports- 
 mouth very full and very disagreeable. To me it was partic- 
 ularly annoying as I was a stranger in the place, and every re- 
 spectable hotel in the place was quite full. After wandering 
 half over the town without success, I at length happened to 
 inquire at a tolerably decent looking public-house, situate in 
 the lane alluded to, where a very civil, though a very cross
 
 IO6 KICHARD HARRIS BAR HAM. 
 
 looking landlady at length made me happy by the intelligence 
 that she would take me in, if I did not mind sleeping in a 
 double-bedded room. I certainly did object to a fellow-lodger, 
 and so I told her, but, as I coupled the objection with an offer 
 to pay handsomely for both beds, though I should occupy only 
 one of them, our bargain was settled, and I took possession of 
 my apartment. 
 
 When I retired for the night I naturally examined both 
 beds, one of which had on a very decent counterpane, the 
 other being covered with a patchwork quilt, coarse, but clean 
 enough. The former I selected for my own use, placed my 
 portmanteau by its side, and having, as I thought, carefully 
 locked the door to keep out intruders, undressed, jumped be- 
 neath the clothes, and fell fast asleep. 
 
 " ' I had slept, 1 suppose, an hour or more, when I was awak- 
 ened by a noise in the lane below ; but being convinced that 
 it was merely occasioned by the breaking up of a jolly party, I 
 was turning round to recompose myself, when I perceived, by 
 the light of the moon which shone brightly into the room, 
 that the bed opposite was occupied by a man, having the ap- 
 pearance of a sailor. He was only partially undressed, having 
 his trowsers on, and what appeared, as well as I could make it 
 out, to be a Belcher handkerchief, tied around his head by way 
 of a nightcap. His position was half sitting, half reclining on 
 the outside of the bed, and he seemed to be fast asleep. 
 
 " ' I was, of course, very angry that the landlady should have 
 broken her covenant with me and let another person into the 
 room, and at first felt half disposed to desire the intruder to 
 withdraw ; but as the man was quiet, and I had no particular 
 wish to spend the rest of the night in an altercation, I' thought 
 it wiser to let things alone till the morning, when I determined 
 to give my worthy hostess a good jobation for her want of 
 faith. After watching him for some time, and seeing that my 
 chum maintained the same posture, though he could not be 
 aware that I was awake, I reclosed my eyes and once more fell 
 asleep. 
 
 " ' It was broad daylight when I awoke in the morning, and
 
 THE PORTSMOUTH GHOST STORY. \VJ 
 
 the sun was shining full in through the window. My slumber- 
 ing friend apparently had never moved, for there he was still, 
 half sitting, half lying on the quilt, and I had a fair opportunity 
 of observing his features, which, though of a dark complexion, 
 were not ill-favored, and were set off by a pair of bushy black 
 whiskers that would have done honor to a rabbi. What sur- 
 prised me most, however, was that I could now plainly perceive 
 that what I had taken in the moonlight for a red handkerchief 
 on his forehead was in reality a white one, but quite satu- 
 ratedin parts with a crimson fluid, which trickled down his left 
 cheek and seemed to have run upon the pillow. 
 
 " ' At the moment the question occurred to me how could 
 the stranger have procured admission into the room ? as I saw 
 but one door, and that I felt pretty confident I had myself 
 locked on the inside, while I was quite positive my gentleman 
 had not been in the chamber when I retired to bed. 
 
 " ' I got out and walked to the door, which was in the centre 
 of one side of the room, nearly half-way between the two 
 beds ; and as I approached it, one of the curtains interposed 
 for a moment so as to conceal my unknown companion from 
 my view. I found the door, as I had supposed it to have been, 
 fastened, with the key in the lock, just as I had left it, and, 
 not a little surprised at the circumstance, I now walked across 
 to the farther bed to get an explanation from my comrade, 
 when to my astonishment he was nowhere to be seen ! Scarcely 
 an instant before I had observed him stretched in the same 
 position which he had all along maintained, and it was difficult 
 to conceive how he had managed to make his exit so instan- 
 taneously, as it were, without my having perceived or heard 
 him. I, in consequence, commenced a pretty close examina- 
 tion of the wainscot near the head of the bed, having first sat- 
 isfied myself that he was concealed neither under it nor by the 
 curtain. No door nor aperture of any kind was to be discov- 
 ered, and, as the rawness of the morning air began by this 
 time to give me a tolerably strong hint that it was time to 
 dress, I put on the rest of my clothes, not, however, without oc- 
 casionally pausing to muse on the sailor's extraordinary conduct.
 
 108 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 " * I was the first person up in the house ; a slipshod, ambig- 
 uous being, however, in whom were united all the various qual- 
 ities and functions of " boots," chambermaid, waiter, and pot- 
 boy, soon made its appearance, and yawning most terrifically 
 began to place a few cinders, etc., in a grate not much cleaner 
 than its own face and hands, preparatory to the kindling of a 
 fire. From this combination I endeavored to extract some 
 information respecting my nocturnal visitor, but in vain ; it 
 " knowed nothing of no sailors," and I was compelled to post- 
 pone my inquiries till the appearance of the mistress, who- 
 descended in due time. 
 
 "'After greeting her with all the civility I could muster 
 no great amount by the way as my anger was in abeyance only, 
 not extinct 1 proceeded to inquire for my bill, telling her that 
 I certainly should not take breakfast, nor do anything more, 
 "for the good of the house," after her breach of promise 
 respecting the privacy of my sleeping-room. The good lady 
 met me at once with a " Marry come up ! " a faint flush came 
 over her cheek, her little gray eyes twinkled, and her whole 
 countenance gained in animation what it lost in placidity. 
 
 " ' What did I mean ? I had bespoke the whole room, and 
 I had had the whole room, and, though she said it, there was 
 not a more comfortable room in all Portsmouth ; she might 
 have let the spare bed five times over, and had refused be- 
 cause of my fancy ; did I think to " bilk " her ? and called 
 myself a gentleman she supposed ! 
 
 " ' I easily stopped the torrent of an eloquence that would 
 have soon gone near to overwhelm me, by depositing a guinea 
 (about a fourth more than her whole demand) upon the bar, 
 and was glad to relinquish the offensive for the defensive. It 
 was therefore with a most quaker-like mildness- of expostula- 
 tion that I rejoined, that certainly I had not to complain of 
 any actual inconvenience from the vicinity of my fellow-lodger, 
 but that, having agreed to pay double for the indulgence of 
 my whim, if such she was pleased to call it, I of course ex- 
 pected the conditions to be observed on the other side ; but I 
 was now convinced that it had been violated without her pri-
 
 THE PORTSMOUTH GHOST STORY. 109 
 
 vity, and that some of her people had doubtless introduced 
 the man into the room, in ignorance probably of our under- 
 standing. 
 
 " ' " What man ? " retorted she briskly, but in a much more 
 mollified tone than before the golden peacemaker had met 
 her sight "There was nobody in your room, unless you let 
 him in yourself ; had you not the key, and did not I hear you 
 lock the door after you ? " 
 
 " ' That I admitted to be true ; " nevertheless," added I, tak- 
 ing up my portmanteau and half turning to depart, as if I 
 were firing a last stern-chaser at an enemy whom I did not 
 care longer to engage, "there certainly was a man -a sailor 
 in my room last night ; though I know no more how he got 
 in or out than I do where he got his broken head, or his un- 
 conscionable whiskers." 
 
 " ' My foot was on the threshold as I ended, that I might 
 escape the discharge of a reply which I foreboded would not 
 be couched in the politest of terms. But it did not come, and 
 as I threw back a parting glance at my fair foe, I could not 
 help being struck with the very different expression of her 
 features from that which I had anticipated. Her attitude and 
 whole appearance were as if the miracle of Pygmalion had 
 been reversed, and a living lady had been suddenly changed 
 into a statue ; her eyes were fixed, her cheek pale, her mouth 
 half open, while the fingers, which had been on the point of 
 closing on the guinea, seemed arrested in the very act. 
 
 " ' I hesitated, and at length a single word, uttered distinctly 
 but lowly, and as if breathlessly spoken, fell upon my ear ; 
 it was " WHISKERS ! " 
 
 " ' " Aye, whiskers" I replied ; " I never saw so splendid a 
 pair in my life." 
 
 " ' " And a broken For Heaven's sake come back one 
 moment," said the lady, whom I now perceived to be laboring 
 under no common degree of agitation. 
 
 " ' Of course I complied, marveling not a little that a word, 
 which though, according to Mr. Shandy, it once excited a 
 powerful commotion in the court of Navarre, is usually very
 
 I IO RICHARD HARRIS BARHAU 
 
 harmless in our latitudes, should produce so astounding an 
 effect on the sensorium of a Portsmouth landlady. 
 
 " ' " Let me entreat you, sir," said my hostess, " to tell me, 
 without disguise, who and what you saw in your bed-room last 
 night." 
 
 " i u j,j o onC) ma d am ," was my answer, " but the sailor of 
 whose intrusion I before complained, and who, I presume, 
 took refuge there from some drunken fray, to sleep off the 
 effects of his liquor, as, though evidently a good deal knocked 
 about, he did not appear to be very sensible of his condition." 
 
 " ' An earnest request to describe his person followed, which 
 I did to the best of my recollection, dwelling particularly on 
 the wounded temple and the remarkable whiskers, which 
 formed, as it were, a perfect fringe to his face. 
 
 " ' " Then, Lord have mercy upon me ! " said the woman, in 
 accents of mingled terror and distress, "it's all true, and the 
 house is ruined forever ! " 
 
 " ' So singular a declaration only whetted my already excited 
 curiosity, and the landlady, who now seemed anxious to make 
 a friend of me, soon satisfied my inquiries in a few words 
 which left an impression no time will ever efface. 
 
 " 'After entreating and obtaining a promise of secrecy, she 
 informed me that, on the third evening previous to my arrival, 
 a party of sailors from one of the vessels which were paying 
 off in the harbor were drinking in her house, when a quarrel 
 ensued between them and some marines belonging to another 
 ship. The dispute at length rose to a great height, and blows 
 were interchanged. The landlady in vain endeavored to in- 
 terfere, till at length a heavy blow, struck with the edge of a 
 pewter pot, lighting upon the temple of a stout young fellow 
 of five-and-twenty, who was one of the most active on the 
 side of the sailors, brought him to the ground senseless "and 
 covered with blood. He never spoke again, but, although his 
 friends immediately conveyed him up-stairs and placed him on 
 the bed, endeavoring to stanch the blood 2.nd doing all in their 
 power to save him, he breathed his last in a few minutes. 
 
 "'In order to hush up a circumstance which could hardly
 
 THE PORTSMOUTH GHOST STORY. \ \ \ 
 
 fail, if known, to bring all parties concerned " into trouble," the 
 old woman admitted that she had consented to the body's be- 
 ing buried in the garden, where it was interred the same night 
 by two of his comrades. The man having been just dis- 
 charged, it was calculated that no inquiry after him was likely 
 to take place. 
 
 " ' " But then, sir," cried the landlady, wringing her hands, 
 " it 's all of no use. Foul deeds will rise, and I shall never 
 dare to put anybody into your room again, for there it was he 
 was carried ; they took off his jacket and waistcoat, and tied 
 his wound up with a handkerchief, but they never could stop 
 the bleeding till all was over ; and, as sure as you are stand- 
 ing there a living man, he is come back to trouble us, for if he 
 had been sitting to you for his picture, you could not have 
 painted him more accurately than you have done." 
 
 "'Startling as this hypothesis of the old woman's was, I 
 could substitute no better, and as the prosecution of the in- 
 quiry must have necessarily operated to delay my voyage, and, 
 perhaps involve me in difficulties, without answering, as far as 
 I could see, any good end, I walked quietly, though certainly 
 not quite at my ease, down to the Point ; and my ship arriv- 
 ing in the course of the afternoon, I went immediately on 
 board, set sail the following morning for the Mediterranean, 
 and though I have been many years in England since, have 
 never again set foot in Portsmouth from that hour to this.' 
 
 " Thus ended Mr. Hamilton's narrative. 
 
 " The next day the whole party set out to reconnoitre the 
 present appearance of the house, but some difficulty was ex- 
 perienced at first in identifying it, the sign having been taken 
 down, and the building converted into a greengrocer's shop 
 about five years before. A dissenting chapel had been built 
 on the site of the garden, but nothing was said by their in- 
 formant of any skeleton having been found while digging for 
 the foundation, nor did Mr. Hamilton think it advisable to push 
 any inquiries on the subject. The old landlady, he found, 
 had been dead several years, and the public-house had passed 
 into other hands before the withdrawal of the license and its 
 subsequent conversion to the present purposes."
 
 112 
 
 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 FUNERAL OF SIR T. LAWRENCE. 
 
 " Diary: January 21, 1830. Attended the public funeral of 
 Sir Thomas Lawrence. An immense throng, but all conducted 
 with great order and splendor. The coffin was carried into 
 the vaults, and brought under the brass plate in the centre of 
 the dome, after the part of the service usually performed in 
 the choir had been gone through. The mourners formed a 
 large outer circle, in the centre of which, close round the plate, 
 was an inner one composed of the members of the cathedral. 
 Among the mourners were Sir G. Murray, Peel, Lord Aber- 
 deen (who seemed almost frozen while bearing the pall from 
 the west door), C. Kemble, Horace Twiss, Derham, Gwilt, 
 T. Campbell, John Wilson Croker, conspicuous in a black 
 velvet cap, and old Nash, the architect, still more so in a Welsh 
 wig. My poor little Emma being very ill, I had some doubt as 
 to going, but Dr. Bowring and Mr. Kothwell with the Crombies 
 coming, I was obliged to conduct them, and we got in with no 
 little difficulty through the crowd, already assembled at twelve, 
 though the funeral was not appointed to take place till two 
 o'clock. Dr. Hughes," a very old friend of the deceased, 
 was so affected that it was with the greatest difficulty he got 
 through the lesson. After the ceremony the body was con- 
 veyed to a brick grave under the south aisle, where it lies, 
 thus : 
 
 BISHOP 
 NEWTON 
 
 SIR 
 
 T. 
 
 LAWKBNCK 
 
 WEST 
 
 GEORGE 
 
 I > '. . BJ 
 K.A. 
 
 FUSKLI 
 
 DAWB. 
 R. A. 
 
 I : i . 
 
 SIR 
 
 JOSHI'A 
 
 REYNOLDS 
 
 Or IK 

 
 JOHN FROST. 1 1 3 
 
 " Mrs. Hughes mentioned to me a singular story respect- 
 ing the deceased, which* she had from his intimate friend, 
 
 Miss C . This lady told her, while in the gallery during 
 
 the ceremony, that the evening before his decease she had 
 seen him. He seemed, she said, a little out of spirits, and 
 asked her somewhat abruptly if she had ever heard a death- 
 watch ? She replied that she had ; on which he requested 
 her to describe the noise it made, which she did. On hearing 
 her description he replied, " Aye, that is it exactly ! " and re- 
 lapsed into a thoughtful silence which he scarcely broke dur- 
 ing the rest of her visit. 
 
 JOHN FROST. 
 
 " All the papers of this date [January, 1830] were full of 
 the quarrel between the Medico-Botanico Society and its Di- 
 rector, as he was called, and founder, Mr. John Frost, a gentle- 
 man remarkable equally for his modest assurance and the 
 high estimate he had formed of his own pretensions, on what 
 many persons thought singularly insufficient grounds. The 
 Royal Society, as a body, were unquestionably of this opinion, 
 as, on his name being submitted to the ballot, he was almost 
 unanimously blackballed. His perseverance, however, in beat- 
 ing up for recruits for his favorite society was unparalleled. 
 It was his custom to run about with a highly ornamented 
 album to every distinguished person, British or foreign, to 
 whom he could by any possibility introduce himself, inform 
 them that they were elected honorary members of the Medico- 
 Botanico Society, and give a flourishing account of its merits ; 
 and as one of the rules required that a member should write 
 his own name in their book, Mr. F. procured by these names 
 a valuable collection of autographs. 
 
 " The best of the joke was, that, having written to several 
 foreign princes through the medium of their ambassadors, and 
 under Lord Aberdeen's government franks, procured through 
 the interest of Lord Stanhope, the President and head of the 
 Society (for the high-sounding office of Director was, in fact, 
 that of Secretary), he contrived to get no less than a dozen 
 8
 
 I 14 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAA1. 
 
 potentates of various grades to consent to their enrolment, and 
 to acknowledge the compliment. Two indeed of them the 
 Emperor of the Brazils was one went so far as to inclose 
 the insignia of one of their minor orders, addressed to ' the 
 Director,' as they had never heard of any higher officer, and 
 these Jacky Frost, as he was commonly called, lost no time in 
 mounting upon his coat, much to the annoyance of Lord Stan- 
 hope and the rest of the body. 
 
 " It was determined, in consequence, to get rid of Mr. 
 Frost, by doing away with the office of Director altogether ; 
 the orders, however, and the album he could not be induced 
 to part with. His honors after all were dearly purchased, as 
 the Royal Humane Society, thinking, perhaps, that it was 
 sadly infra dig. for a chevalier with two crosses on his breast 
 to be holding the bellows to the nose of every chimney- 
 sweeper picked out of the Serpentine, dismissed him from the 
 employment he held under them, whereby he lost 2oo/. a year 
 and a good house in Bridge Street. 
 
 " Among the cool stratagems which he occasionally made 
 use of to procure signatures to his book, was one which he 
 played off on the Duke of Wellington, which, had it not been 
 vouched for by Mr. Wood, F. R. S., I should hardly have cred- 
 ited. Having failed in repeated attempts to get with his 
 quarto into Apsley House, he heard by good luck that his 
 Grace, then Commander-in-chief, was about to hold a levee 
 of general officers. Away posted Jacky to a masquerade 
 warehouse, and hired a Lieutenant-general's uniform, under 
 cover of which he succeeded in establishing himself fairly 
 in the Duke's anteroom, among thirteen or fourteen first-rate 
 Directors of strategetics. 
 
 " Everybody stared at a general whom nobody knew, and 
 at length an aide-de-camp, addressing him, politely requested 
 to -know his name. 
 
 "'What general shall I have the honor of announcing to 
 his Grace ? ' 
 
 "'My name is Frost, sir.' 
 
 Frost, General Frost ! I beg your pardon, but I really 
 do not recollect to have heard that name before ! '
 
 JOHN FROST. 1 1 5 
 
 " ' Oh, sir, I am no general, I have merely put on this cos- 
 tume as I understood I could not obtain access to his Grace 
 without it : I am the Director of the Medico- Botanico So- 
 ciety, and have come to inform his Grace that he has been 
 elected a member, and to get his signature.' 
 
 " ' Then, sir, I must tell you that you have taken a most 
 improper method and opportunity of so doing, and I insist 
 upon your withdrawing immediately.' 
 
 " Jacky, however, was too good a general to capitulate on 
 the first summons, and he stoutly kept his ground, notwith- 
 standing a council of war at once began to deliberate on the 
 comparative eligibility of kicking him into the street, or giving 
 him in charge to a constable. Luckily for him the aide-de- 
 camp thought his Grace had a right to a voice in the matter, 
 as the offense was committed in his own house. On the busi- 
 ness, however, being mentioned to him, the hero of Waterloo, 
 not choosing perhaps to risk the laurels he had won from Na- 
 poleon in a domestic encounter with so redoubtable a cham- 
 pion, said, ' Let the fellow in,' cut short Jacky's oration by 
 writing his name hastily in the book, and gave the sign ' to 
 show him out again.' It was doubtful, however, whether any 
 other sanctuary than the house he was in would have shel- 
 tered him from the indignation of the militaires in waiting, at 
 the sight of what they considered a degradation of the na- 
 tional uniform. 
 
 " Quite as amusing was this gentleman's interview with the 
 Duke of St. Albans. The ' Director ' easily got his Grace's 
 consent to be elected a member, and the book was produced 
 for his signature. The latter took up a pen, and commenced 
 ' Du ,' when he was interrupted by his visitor, 
 
 " ' No, I beg pardon, it is your Grace's title we require, 
 written by your own hand.' 
 
 " ' Well, my title is Duke of St. Albans, is it not ? ' 
 
 " ' Yes, your Grace, undoubtedly, but your signature merely 
 the way in which your Grace usually signs.' Here the 
 Duchess interfered, and ' St. Albans ' was soon written, in a 
 large German-text, school-boy hand, the '>u' having been
 
 1 1 6 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 previously expunged by a side wipe of his Grace's forefinger. 
 Mr. Frost bowed, pocketed the subscription, pronounced all to 
 be en rigle, congratulated his noble friend on having become 
 a brother Medico-Botanico, and quitted Stratton Street in 
 high glee. 
 
 " Not long afterwards it was his good fortune again to en- 
 counter his Grace, on some public occasion. Of course he 
 paid his respects, and equally of course the Duke inquired of 
 ' Mr. Thingumee] as he called him, how that ' medical thing ' 
 that he belonged to, went on. 
 
 " ' Exceedingly prosperous, indeed, my Lord Duke,' was the 
 answer ; ' we are increasing both in numbers and respecta- 
 bility every day ; I have got twelve Sovereigns down since 
 the commencement of the present year.' 
 
 " ' Oh, if you have only got twelve sovereigns in all that 
 time, I don't think you are getting on so very fast ; you know 
 I gave you five guineas of them myself.' " 
 
 This anecdote may easily be believed of a duke who soon 
 after his wedding wrote to the editor of " Debrett's Peerage," 
 then Mr. Townshend, Rouge Dragon, saying, "Sir, I have to 
 inform you that I am married to Mrs. Coutts, and Mrs. Coutts 
 desires you will put it into your next edition." This Towns- 
 hend told me himself. 
 
 POETICAL EPISTLE TO HIS SON. 
 
 Some slight difference of opinion I remember to have arisen 
 between my father and myself respecting the comparative 
 merits of the box-seat and a place inside the coach, which was to 
 convey me to Tunbridge. My fare paid, I was handed, under 
 protest, into the interior of the " machine," and on my naturally 
 availing myself of the opportunity offered by the first stoppage 
 to mount the roof, in which position I accomplished the re- 
 mainder of the journey, some mistake arose respecting my 
 identity and the sum disbursed on my behalf. Thence ensued, 
 to my confusion, a disclosure of the masterly movement that 
 had been effected, and a consequent remonstrance conveyed in 
 terms more indulgent than, I fear, I deserved :
 
 POETICAL EPISTLE TO HIS SON. \\"J 
 
 To R. H. D. Barham. 
 
 "St. PAUL'S, July 5, 18301 
 
 "I find, Mister Dick, 
 
 That you 've played me a trick, 
 For which you deserve a reproof 
 
 Not to say a reproach ; 
 
 You got out of the coach,. 
 And settled yourself on the roof. 
 
 "You knew you 'd a cough, 
 
 And when you set off, 
 I cautioned you as to your ride, 
 
 And bade you take care 
 
 Of the damp and cold air, 
 And above all to keep withinside. 
 
 " This they tell me that you 
 
 Did not choose to do, 
 But exchanged with some person, they said ; 
 
 And so Easton mistook 
 
 Your name in his book, 
 And charged you what he should have paid. 
 
 " I found them quite willing 
 
 To refund every shilling, 
 And render to Caesar his due : 
 
 They gave me back three, 
 
 Which 1 take to be 
 The overplus forked out by you. 
 
 " Now don't do this again ; 
 
 Indeed, to be plain, 
 If you mount, when you come back to town, 
 
 Your namesake the ' Dicky,' 
 
 I shall certainly lick ye, 
 And perhaps half demolish your crown. 
 
 " Mamma means to inclose 
 
 Two white ' wipes ' for your nose ; 
 As your purse may be run rather hard, 
 
 I shall also attack her 
 
 To augment your exchequer 
 With a sovereign stuck in a card. 
 
 " But my note I must end it, 
 Or 't will be too late to send it
 
 1 1 8 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 To-day, which I much wish to do ; 
 
 So remember us mind, enough 
 
 To our friends who are kind enough 
 To be bored with such a nuisance as you. 
 
 " Write as soon as you can, 
 
 That 's a good little man, 
 And direct your epistle to me ; 
 
 Meanwhile I remain. 
 
 Till I see you again, 
 Your affectionate sire, R. H. B." 
 
 SYDNEY SMITH. 
 
 The appointment of Mr. Sydney Smith to one of the ca- 
 nonries of St. Paul's proved the means of introducing Mr. 
 Barham to the society of that distinguished individual, and cir- 
 cumstances led afterwards to a pretty frequent correspondence 
 between them, chiefly indeed bearing reference to matters of 
 business, but abounding, on the part of the latter, with in- 
 stances of that decided spirit and peculiar humor inseparable 
 from his writings and conversation. At first, I believe Mr. Bar- 
 ham looked upon the introduction of the great Whig wit into 
 the chapter with some feeling of misgiving, but the tho/ough 
 honesty and kind-heartedness of the new canon soon made 
 themselves manifest to the apprehension of the candid ob- 
 server. And differing, as they always did more or less, in 
 political opinion, an appreciation of each other's worth grad- 
 ually sprang up sufficient to induce a greater degree of in- 
 timacy than might, under the circumstances, have been ex- 
 pected. 
 
 The first appearance of Mr. Smith at the Cathedral, for 
 the purpose of taking possession of his stall, is thus briefly 
 noted : 
 
 " October 2, 1831. Rev. Sydney Smith read himself in as 
 Residentiary at St. Paul's ; dined with him afterwards at Dr. 
 Hughes's. He mentioned having once half offended Sam 
 Rogers by recommending him, when he sat for his picture, 
 to be drawn saying his prayers with his face in his hat."
 
 A NO THEK GHOST STOR Y. 1 1 9 
 
 TOWNSEND THE BOW STREET OFFICER. 
 
 " Cannon called in the evening, and told us an adventure of 
 his with Townsend, the Bow Street officer, at Brighton. A 
 little Jew boy had been plaguing him the day before to buy 
 pencils, saying that he had a sick mother, thirteen brothers 
 and sisters, and that his father was dead, etc. Cannon gave 
 him a trifle, but desired him not to bother him again. The 
 next day, however, the little Israelite attacked him as before, 
 when he called to Townsend, standing on the Steyne, and told 
 him not to be rough with the lad, but to prevent his continuing 
 to annoy him. 
 
 " Townsend commenced a regular examination of the youth. 
 ' Do you know Mr. Goldsmith ? Do you know Houndsditch ? ' 
 etc., till he made Cannon open his eyes by asking, ' When were 
 you last at Purim ? ' 
 
 " The boy's answer was satisfactory, and when he was dis- 
 missed Cannon turned to the officer and inquired how he came 
 to know anything about the Jewish festivals. 
 
 " ' Why God blesh you,' says Townsend, ' Purim's one of 
 these rascals' grand feasts ; the High Priest wets his thumb, 
 and the fellows fall a knocking as if they was all at Bartle-my 
 fair. Why blesh your soul ! there was a Queen Easter, you 
 know, once, and if it had not ha' been for her, all these scamps 
 would have been hanged altogether. Now you know how I 
 respect " The Establisment," so you won't be offended at what 
 I am going to say, which is this you remember these 
 " Smouches " are said to be " whited sepulchres," well enough 
 to look at outside, but -good for nothing within well, so they 
 continues to be to this very day and I 'm blessed if you '11 
 find any lead in that chap's pencils ! ' The illustration 
 proved perfectly correct." 
 
 ANOTHER GHOST STORY. 
 
 "Diary: November 4, 1832. Mrs. Hughes told me the 
 following ghost story. Her own grandfather had carried on a 
 flirtation with Miss Richards of Compton, one of the richest
 
 120 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 heiresses in his native country, but being, for a gentleman, in 
 comparatively narrow circumstances, did not venture to pro- 
 pose for her; nor was it till after he had engaged himself to 
 another lady that he discovered the heiress might have been 
 his but for the faint heart which prevented him from winning 
 the fair lady. Miss Richards, however, remained a spinster 
 for his sake, formed a strict intimacy with his sister, whom 
 she prevailed upon to live with her, and when he had children 
 adopted one of them a girl aunt to the lady from whom 
 I had this story, and from whom she had it. 
 
 "At the death of her father, Miss Richards inherited, 
 among other possessions, the home farm called Compton 
 Marsh, which remained in her own occupation under the 
 
 management of a bailiff. This roan, named John , was 
 
 engaged to be married to a good-looking girl, to whom he had 
 long been attached, and who superintended the dairy. 
 
 " One morning Miss Richards, who had adopted masculine 
 habits, was going out with her greyhounds, accompanied by 
 her firottgee, and called at the farm. Both the ladies were 
 struck by the paleness and agitation evinced by the dairy- 
 maid. Thinking some lover's quarrel might have taken place, 
 the visitors questioned her strictly respecting the cause of her 
 evident distress, and at length, with great difficulty, prevailed 
 upon her to disclose it. 
 
 " She said that on the night preceding she had gone to bed 
 at her usual hour, and had fallen asleep, when she was awak- 
 ened by a noise in her room. Rousing herself she sat upright 
 and listened. The noise was not repeated, but between her- 
 self and the window, in the clear moonlight, she saw John 
 standing within a foot of the bed, and so near to her that by 
 stretching out her hand she could have touched him. She 
 called out immediately, and ordered him peremptorily to leave 
 the room. He remained motionless, looking at her with a sad 
 countenance, and in a low but distinct tone of voice bade her 
 not be alarmed, as the only purpose of his visit was to inform 
 her that he should not survive that day six weeks, naming at 
 the same time two o'clock as the hour of his decease. As he
 
 A NO THER GHOST SFOf! Y. 121 
 
 ceased speaking, she perceived the figure gradually fading, and 
 growing fainter in the moonlight, till, without appearing to 
 move away, it grew indistinct in its outline and finally was lost 
 to sight. 
 
 " Much alarmed she rose and dressed herself, but found 
 everything quite quiet in the house, and the door locked on 
 the inside as usual. She did not return to bed, but had pru- 
 dence enough to say nothing of what she had seen, either to 
 John, or to any one else. Miss Richards commended her 
 silence, advising her to adhere to it, on the ground that these 
 kinds of prophecies sometimes bring their own completion 
 along with them. 
 
 "The time slipped away, and, notwithstanding her unaf- 
 fected incredulity, Miss Richards could not forbear, on the 
 morning of the day specified, riding down to the farm, where 
 she found the girl uncommonly cheerful, having had no return 
 of her vision, and her lover remaining still in full health. He 
 was gone, she told the ladies, to Wantage market, with a load 
 of cheese which he had to dispose of, and was expected back 
 in a couple of hours. Miss Richards went on and pursued 
 her favorite amusement of coursing. She had killed a hare, 
 and was returning to the house with her companion, when 
 they saw a female, whom they at once recognized as the dairy- 
 maid, running with great swiftness up the avenue which led 
 to the mansion. 
 
 "They both immediately put their horses to their speed, 
 Miss Richards exclaiming, ' Good God ! something has gone 
 wrong at the farm ! ' The presentiment was verified. John 
 had returned looking pale and complaining of fatigue, and 
 soon after went to his own room, saying he should lie down 
 for half an hour while the men were at dinner. He did so, 
 but not returning at the time mentioned, the girl went to call 
 him, and found him lying dead on his own bed. He had been 
 seized with an aneurism of the heart ! "
 
 122 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAAf. 
 
 THE BEEFSTEAK CLUB. 
 
 " February 9, 1833. Dined, for the first time, at the Beef- 
 steak Club, held at the Bedford till the rebuilding of Arnold's 
 theatre. The members present were Mr. Lewin (in the chair), 
 Stephenson (vice), the Duke of Leinster, Lord Saltoun, Sir 
 Andre* Barnard, Sir Ronald Ferguson, Sir John Cam Hob- 
 house, Messrs. Hallett, Peake, Linley, and Arnold. All very 
 amusing. Jokes of Lord Alvanley mentioned. At the late 
 feteiA. Hatfield House, tableaux vivants were among the chief 
 amusements, and scenes from 'Ivanhoe' were among the 
 selections. All the parts were filled up but that of Isaac of 
 York. Lady Salisbury begged Lord Alvanley 'to make the 
 set complete by doing the Jew.' ' Anything in my power your 
 ladyship may command,' replied Alvanley, ' but though no 
 man in England has tried oftener, I never could do a Jew in 
 my life.' 
 
 " He half affronted Mr. Greville, with whom he was dining. 
 The dining-room had been newly and splendidly furnished, 
 whereas the dinner was but a very meagre and indifferent one. 
 While some of the guests were flattering their host on his taste, 
 magnificence, etc., ' For my part,' said his lordship, ' I had 
 rather have seen less gilding and more carving.' " 
 
 Of the Mr. Samuel Arnold just mentioned, Mr. Barbara 
 observes elsewhere : " I first met him at Hawes's, several 
 years before the institution of the ' Garrick,' where he was a 
 member of the committee at the same time with myself. I 
 encountered him the morning after his theatre (the English 
 Opera-house, afterwards the Lyceum) was burnt down, by 
 which he lost 6o,ooo/., and never saw a man meet misfortune 
 with so much equanimity. His new theatre, which was raised 
 by subscription completely failed, and when Osbaldiston took 
 Covent Garden in 1835, and reduced the admission to the boxes 
 to four shillings, Arnold reduced his price to two, but this 
 did not succeed, while the property was materially depre- 
 ciated by the measure. Arnold was one of the leading mem- 
 bers of the Beefsteak Club where he was called ' the Bishop.' "
 
 SUETTS FUNERAL. 123 
 
 DENIALS OF AUTHORSHIP. 
 
 To authors' oaths, as well as those of lovers, Jove, it is to 
 be hoped, is particularly indulgent ; for, assuredly, whatever 
 amount of affirmative perjury may be incurred by the latter, it 
 is to the full paralleled by the ample negations put forth by the 
 former. Southey distinctly denied the authorship of " The 
 Doctor." But, perhaps, a greater degree of " nerve " was ex- 
 hibited by Mr. Sydney Smith, who, positively disowning all 
 connection with the " Plymley Letters " in one edition, actu- 
 ally published them in a collection of his acknowledged works 
 some few months after. The mystery that hung so long around 
 the Wizard of the North is yet more notorious ; the anecdote 
 which follows may serve to show the anxiety of the " Great 
 Unknown " to preserve his incognito : 
 
 "February II, 1833. Dined with Sir George Warrender at 
 his house in Albemarle Street. Met Lord Saltoun, John Wil- 
 son Croker, Sir Andrew Barnard, Mr. Barrow of the Admiralty, 
 John Murray, the publisher, Mr. Littleton, Sir Charles Bagot, 
 Mr. Lee, an artist, Francis Mills, and James Smith. 
 
 " Murray told me that Sir Walter Scott, on being taxed by 
 him as the author of ' Old Mortality,' not only denied having 
 written it, but added, ' In order to convince you that I am not 
 the author, I will review the book for you in the " Quarterly " 
 which he actually did, and Murray still has the MS. in 
 his handwriting. 
 
 SUETT'S FUNERAL. 
 
 "Diary: March 24, 1834. Dined at the ' Garrick ; ' Mr. 
 Williams, the banker, in the chair, Fladgate, croupier, Charles 
 Mathews (the father), E. Parrott, Westmacott, the sculptor, 
 Mortimer Drummond, T. Clarke, Tom Hill, J. R. Durrant, W. 
 Beloe, myself, and John Murray. We twelve were seated 
 when Hook arrived. He looked at first very blank on finding 
 himself the thirteenth, but being told that Charles Young the 
 actor was expected immediately took his seat, and we had a 
 very pleasant evening. C. Mathews gave a very amusing ac- 
 count of poor Dicky Suett's funeral which he had attended as
 
 124 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 a mourner. Suett lies buried in St. Paul's Church-yard, in the 
 burial-ground belonging to St. Faith, nearly opposite the shop 
 of Dollond the optician, and just within the rails. Suett had 
 been brought up originally as a boy in the choir. Mathews 
 and Captain Caulfield (whom I have often seen perform, and 
 whose personation of Suett, Mathews said, was much more 
 perfect than his own) were in the same coach with Jack Ban- 
 ister and Palmer. The latter sat wrapt up in angry and in- 
 dignant silence at the tricks which the two younger mourners 
 (who, by the way, had known but little of Suett, and were in- 
 vited out of compliment) were playing off ; but Banister, who 
 was much affected by the loss of his old friend, nevertheless 
 could not refrain from laughing occasionally in the midst of 
 his grief and while the tears were actually running from his 
 eyes. Mr. Whittle, commonly called 'Jemmy Whittle,' of the 
 firm of Laurie and Whittle, stationers, in Fleet Street, was an 
 old and intimate friend of Suett's. As the procession ap- 
 proached, he came and stood at his own door to look at it, 
 when Caulfield called out to him from the mourning-coach in 
 Suett's voice, 
 
 " ' Aha ! Jemmy O la ! I 'm going to be buried ! O la ! 
 O lawk ! O dear ! ' 
 
 " Whittle ran back into the house absolutely frightened. 
 Similar scenes took place the whole of the way. The burial 
 service was read, when, just as the clergyman had concluded 
 it, an urchin seated on a tombstone close by the rails began 
 clapping his hands. The whole company were struck by this 
 singular conclusion to a theatrical funeral ; but the boy when 
 questioned and taken to task for the indecency said, 
 
 " ' La ! there was only them two dogs outside as wanted to 
 fight, and was afraid to begin, so I did it to set 'em on.' 
 
 " Mathews also gave a very entertaining account of his hav- 
 ing been recommended by Mr. Lowdham, a member of the 
 club, to stop at a particular inn in Nottingham, when upon his 
 last theatrical tour. He found it, however, quite a third-rate 
 inn, and could get no attendance. Half a dozen different peo- 
 ple successively answered the bell when he rang, stared at
 
 "MY COUSIN NICHOLAS." 12$ 
 
 him, said ' Yes, sir ! ' and went away ; nor could he get any 
 one to show him into a private room, though he had bespoken 
 one. At last a great lubberly boy came blubbering into the 
 room, when Mathews addressed him very angrily : 
 
 " M. When am I to have my private room ? 
 
 " Boy. We ha'n't got none but one, and that 's bespoke 
 for Mathews the player. 
 
 " M. Well, I am Mathews the player, as you call him. 
 
 " Boy. Oh, then you may come this way ! 
 
 " He was ushered at length into a room with a fire just 
 lighted, and full of smoke ; still there was nothing to be got 
 to eat, while Mathews, who had travelled between forty and 
 fifty miles that day, was very hungry. 
 
 " M. Send me up the master of the house! Where is 
 the master ? 
 
 " Boy. He 's dead, sir ! 
 
 " M. Then send the mistress. 
 
 " Boy. Mother 's gone out ! 
 
 " M. Well, do let me have something to eat at all events ; 
 can you get me a mutton chop ? 
 
 " Boy. Not till mother comes home. 
 
 " M. Well, then, some cold meat anything. Confound 
 it, boy, have you got nothing in the house ? 
 
 "Boy. Yes, sir! 
 
 " Well, what is it then ? 
 
 " Here the poor boy burst into a flood of tears and blub- 
 bered out ' An execution, sir ! ' 
 
 " Late in the evening Young did come, and sang with great 
 taste and feeling Sheridan's 'When 'tis Night.' Hook im- 
 provised, as usual with him, on the company, but was not al- 
 together so happy as I have sometimes heard him." 
 
 " MY COUSIN NICHOLAS." 
 
 The completion and publication of " My Cousin Nicholas " 
 were immediately owing to the kindly interference of Mrs. 
 Hughes. Having read " Baldwin," and having learnt that 
 another tale was lying unfinished in Mr. Barham's desk, she
 
 126 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 prevailed upon him to lend her the manuscript. So favorable 
 was her opinion of its merits that without more ado she sub- 
 mitted it to the inspection of Mr. Black wood, and the first in- 
 timation the author received of the circumstance was conveyed 
 in the shape of a packet containing the proof-sheets of the 
 opening chapters. As his zealous friend had pledged her 
 word for the continuation of the work all retreat was cut off ; 
 there was nothing for it but diligently to take the matter in 
 hand, and endeavor to surmount those obstacles that had 
 caused him to lay his pen aside. Whatever the difficulties 
 may have been, they were speeeily overcome, " My Cousin's " 
 adventures were carried on monthly with spirit, and the catas- 
 trophe was worked up in a manner that certainly brought no 
 discredit on the earlier portions of the novel. 
 
 Mr. Barham always asserted that he was singularly de- 
 ficient in the faculty of invention. " Give me a story to tell," 
 he would say, " and I can tell it, in my own way ; but I can't 
 invent one ! " and although " My Cousin Nicholas " might, I 
 think, be fairly cited as a witness to the injustice of the dis- 
 claimer, there is no doubt that the character of his hero's es- 
 capades was suggested by an event which occurred in the life 
 of the author's father, and which the former once thought of 
 producing under the title of " My Grandfather's Knocker !' ' 
 The circumstances, as nearly as I can recollect them, were as 
 follows : 
 
 Somewhere about a century ago, rather more than less, 
 Richard Barham, of Farmstead, became by marriage the 
 owner of some property principally hop-gardens lying 
 in close vicinity to Canterbury, and also of a large red-brick 
 house situated within the city walls. It is, I believe, still in 
 existence, inclosed by its high garden walls, above which the 
 tops of a few trees look down refreshingly upon the narrow 
 streets of Burgate. But in addition to house and land, Mrs. 
 Barham brought her husband in due time a son and heir 
 Richard Harris, the father of the subject of this memoir. 
 Having reached man's estate, Richard Harris declined longer 
 residence in the red-brick house which was only occasion-
 
 "MY COUSIN NICHOLAS:' 127 
 
 ally inhabited by his father, who spent a good deal of his time 
 at Tapton Wood and set up a bachelor's establishment for 
 himself. One morning the elder gentleman, who seems to 
 have been of a peppery turn, was roused to fury by the dis- 
 appearance of a magnificent brass knocker which had hitherto 
 formed the glory of his front door. It had clearly been 
 wrenched off in the course of the night, by way of a "spree," 
 as this lively diversion afterwards came to be called. Mr. 
 Barham, senior, raved ; Mr. Barham, junior, condoled ; both 
 were indignant. But nothing came of raving, condolence, or 
 indignation ! The offender could not be punished, for the 
 offender could not be found, and so by degrees the offense 
 dropped out of memory. It chanced, some time after, that 
 on a certain day the old gentleman rode in from the country, 
 and, not disposed to spend the evening alone in his own rather 
 gloomy mansion, he betook him to the lodging of his son. 
 Richard Harris was of course delighted to see his father, and 
 taxed his resources to the uttermost in the endeavor to enter- 
 tain him. Dinner was discussed, and after dinner a liberal 
 allowance of port wine, 1 and then, according to the fashion of 
 the age, preparations were made for winding up the feast with 
 a bowl of punch. " The materials " were at hand, and availa- 
 ble all save the sugar, and the sugar was in large refractory 
 lumps that defied ordinary manipulation. The housekeeper 
 was accordingly summoned, and desired to reduce a sufficient 
 quantity of the " best loaf " to powder. Quietly proceeding 
 to a cupboard in the room, the woman provided herself with 
 an implement which, if not expressly constructed for the pur- 
 pose of trituration, was evidently well enough adapted to it, 
 
 1 I am not speaking at hap-hazard here. My grandfather always drank a bottle 
 of port wine a day. The doctors interfered at last when his bulk became enormous 
 and limited him to a pint. " Well, said he, " if I am to have only a pint, a pint it 
 shall be ; I will not be fobbed off with one of those abominations that contain little 
 more than a half." And so, anticipating the Imperial measure movement, he had a 
 number of bottles made expressly for him, holding each a legitimate pint. A few 
 of these with his cipher stamped upon the shoulder I still possess. One pint of 
 wine, however, he found scarcely sufficient, and so he tried two, thus, in place of 
 reducing his former allowance by half, increased it by about a third. They argued 
 with him, but he persisted in his opinion that two pints were equal to one bottle, 
 and that one bottle of port could not hurt any man. He died at forty-eight.
 
 128 RICHARD HARRIS BARffAM. 
 
 and commenced pounding away. The old gentleman raised 
 his eyes at the noise, then sprang to his feet, then fired off 
 expression after expression of a sort that no old gentleman 
 ought to fire off. It must, however, be admitted that the 
 provocation was not a slight one, for there was the solution 
 of the mystery there in calm complacency was his son's 
 cook hammering away at the loaf sugar with the desecrated 
 brass knocker of which he had, so heartlessly bereaved ! Mr. 
 Barham senior left the house immediately, would listen to no 
 excuses, but executed a fresh will forthwith, leaving his prop- 
 erty to be divided between his two daughters, and refused to 
 hold any further communication with his truly penitent son. 
 The alienation lasted for a year or two. Then at length the 
 remonstrances of friends prevailed, and forgiveness was ex- 
 tended, I am exceedingly happy to say, to my too mercurial 
 grandfather. 
 
 Of the minor characters presented in the novel, one at least 
 was taken from the life. There are doubtless many Oxford 
 men yet living who can remember " Doctor Toe," as from a 
 peculiarity of his gait he was nicknamed, the Dean of Brase- 
 nose, and the hero of Reginald Heber's " Whippiad." Not 
 only defeated in battle within his very stronghold 
 
 "Where whitened Cain the wrath of Heaven defies, 
 And leaden slumbers close his brother's eyes, 
 Where o'er the porch in brazen splendor glows 
 Tlie vast projection of the mystic noscj" 
 
 but more bitter humiliation still jilted in love, deserted 
 by his affianced bride, who ran off with her father's footman, 
 the unfortunate doctor formed the subject of a number of Uni- 
 versity squibs, and among them of an epigram worth repeat- 
 ing: 
 
 'Twixt Footman John and Doctor Toe 
 
 A rivalship befell, 
 Which of the two should be the beau 
 
 To bear away the belle. 
 
 "The Footman won the lady's heart, 
 
 And who can blame her ? No man 
 The whole prevailed against a part, 
 T was Fiat-ma* vrrtta Tot-man ! "
 
 WILLIAM LINLEY. 129 
 
 The burlesque personification of " Doctor Toe " is said to 
 have been actually perpetrated by an ancestor of the present 
 Lord Lyttleton. And again, the denial of his father by Nicho- 
 las an incident subsequently introduced by Mr. Boucicault 
 in his popular comedy of " London Assurance " is no fiction, 
 but owes its origin to a similar prank played by the well-known 
 humorist, Bonnell Thornton. 
 
 WILLIAM LINLEY. 
 
 ''Diary : May, 1834. William Linley, brother to the first 
 Mrs. Sheridan, though a man of the world, and a member of 
 the celebrated ' Beefsteak Club,' the hoaxing propensities of 
 whose members are so proverbial, was a man of great good- 
 nature and still greater simplicity of mind. He always occu- 
 pied a particular table at the ' Garrick,' and, though a general 
 favorite, was somewhat too fond of reciting long speeches 
 from various authors, generally Shakespeare. It was one day 
 in this month that he had begun to spout from the opening 
 scene in ' Macbeth,' and would probably have gone through it 
 if I had not cut him short at the third line 
 
 'When the hurly-burly 's done," 
 
 with ' What on earth are you talking about ? Why, my dear 
 Linley, it is astonishing that a man so well read in Shake- 
 speare as yourself should adopt that nonsensical reading ! 
 What is l hurly-burly^ 1 pray ? There is no such word in the 
 language ; you can't find an allusion to it in Johnson.' Lin- 
 ley, whose veneration for Dr. Johnson was only inferior to 
 that which he entertained for the great poet himself, said, 
 
 " ' Indeed ! are you sure there is not ? What can be the rea- 
 son of the omission ? The word, you see, is used by Shake- 
 speare.' 
 
 " ' No such thing,' was the reply ; ' it appears so indeed in one 
 or two early editions, but it is evidently mistranscribed. The 
 second folio is the best and most authentic copy, and gives the 
 true reading, though the old nonsense is still retained upon 
 the stage ! ' 
 
 9
 
 130 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 " ' Indeed, and pray what do you call the true reading ? ' 
 " ' Why, of course, the same that is followed by Johnson and 
 Steevens in the edition up-stairs : 
 
 " When the tarly furl is done ; " 
 
 that is, when we have finished our " early purl," /. e. directly 
 after breakfast.' 
 
 " Linley was startled, and after looking steadily at me to see 
 if he could discover any indication of an intention to hoax him, 
 became quite puzzled by the gravity of my countenance, and 
 only gave vent in a hesitating tone, half-doubtful, half-indig- 
 nant, to the word ' Nonsense ! ' 
 
 "' Nonsense ? It is as I assure you. We will send for the 
 book, and see what Steevens says in his note upon the pas- 
 sage.' 
 
 " The book was accordingly sent for, but I took good care to 
 intercept it before it reached the hands of Linley, and taking 
 it from the servant pretended to read from the volume 
 
 ' When the hurly-burly 's done. 
 
 ' Some copies have it, " When the early purl is done ; " and I 
 am inclined to think this reading- the true one, if the well- 
 known distich be worthy of credit 
 
 " Hops, reformation, turkeys, and beer, 
 Came to England all in one year/' 
 
 This would seem to fix the introduction of beer, and conse- 
 quently of early purl, into the country to about that period of 
 Henry VII I. 's reign when he intermarried with Anne Boleyn, 
 the mother of Queen Elizabeth, Shakespeare's great friend and 
 patroness, and to whom this allusion may perhaps have been 
 intended by the poet as a delicate compliment. Purl, it is 
 well known, was a favorite beverage at the English court dur- 
 ing the latter part of the sixteenth century ; and from the ep- 
 ithet then affixed to it "early," an adjunct which it still retains, 
 was no doubt in common use for breakfast at a time when the 
 China trade had not yet made our ancestors familiar with the 
 produce of the tea-plant. Theobald's objection, that, whatever
 
 WILLIAM LINLEY. ' 131 
 
 may have been the propriety of its introduction at the court of 
 Elizabeth, the mention made of it at that of Macbeth would be 
 a gross anachronism, may be at once dismissed as futile. 
 Does not Shakespeare, in the very next scene, talk of 
 
 "Cannons overcharged with double cracks ? " 
 
 and is not allusion made by him to the use of the same bever- 
 age at the court of Denmark, at a period coeval, or nearly so, 
 with that under consideration 
 
 " Hamlet, this purl is thine? " ' 
 
 " ' But, dear me ! ' broke in Linley, ' that is pearl, not purl. 
 I remember old Packer used to hold up a pearl, and let it drop 
 into the cup.' 
 
 " ' Sheer misconception on the part of a very indifferent 
 actor, my dear Linley, be assured.' 
 
 " Here Beazley, who was present, observed, ' "Early purl " is 
 all very well, but my own opinion has always leaned to War- 
 burton's conjecture that a political allusion is intended. He 
 suggests 
 
 " When the Earl of Burleigh 's done ; " 
 
 that is, when we have " done," /". e., cheated or deceived, the 
 Earl of Burleigh, a great statesman, you know, in Elizabeth's 
 time, and one whom, to use a cant phrase among ourselves, 
 ' you must get up very early in the morning to take in ! " 
 
 " ' But what had Macbeth or the witches to do with the 
 Earl of Burleigh ? Stuff ! nonsense ! ' said Linley, indig- 
 nantly. And though .Beazley made a good fight in defense 
 of his version, yet his opponent would not listen to it for an 
 instant. 
 
 "'No, no,' he continued, 'the Earl of Burleigh is all rub- 
 bish, but there may be something in the other reading.' 
 
 " And as the book was closed directly the passage had been 
 repeated, and was replaced immediately on the shelf, the un- 
 suspicious critic went away thoroughly mystified, especially as 
 Tom Hill, for whose acquaintance with early English litera- 
 ture he had a great respect, confirmed the emendation with
 
 132 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAU. 
 
 " ' " Early purl ! " Pooh ! pooh ! to be sure it is " early 
 purl ; " I 've got it so in two of my old copies.' " 
 
 HAYNES BAYLEY. 
 
 Nothing on earth, by the way, is so soothing as that gentle- 
 man's verses ; but that he would be thought- a plagiarist, I 
 think Nicholas might do a little in that way, to the tune of 
 " Oh, no ! we never mention him," etc. 
 
 " They say tliat I am silent, and my silence they condemn, 
 For oh ! although they talk to me, I never talk to them ! 
 I heed not what they think, although I know 'tis thought by some 
 That I am dumb or deaf, but oh ! I 'm neither deaf nor dumb ! 
 
 " They say I 'm looking sick and pale ; and well indeed they may ; 
 They tell me, too, that I am sad ; I 'm anything but gay ! 
 They smile but oh ! the more they smile, the more, alas ! I sigh ; 
 And when they strive to make me laugh, I turn me round and cry I 
 
 " They bid me sing the song I sung, as I have sung before, 
 The song I sung no more I sing my Ringing days are o'er ! 
 They bid me play the fiddle, too my fiddle it is mute ! 
 Nor can I, as I used to do, blow tunes upon the flute! 
 
 * The feeling fain would soothe my woe, the heartless say I sham ; 
 The ribald mnck my grief, and call me Sentimental Saml 
 They cannot guess what 't is I want There 's few indeed that can : 
 I want 
 I want 
 I want to be a butterfly, and flutter round a fan ! " 
 
 "GETTING A LITTLE FISHING." 
 
 During the months of June and July, 1834, Mr. Barham 
 spent his summer holidays at Strand-on-Green, where he had 
 engaged a snug little cottage. Hanwell was his usual retreat, 
 his duties rarely allowing him to select one beyond the reach 
 of the great bell of Paul's ; but this year he pitched upon 
 Strand-on-Green, with some design, I believe, of "getting a 
 little fishing." And for the first week or two attempts were 
 occasionally made upon the wary gudgeons of Kew, but the 
 expedition generally ended in some grave piscatorial disaster 
 the line became inextricably tangled in a worse than Gor-
 
 LINES LEFT AT HOOK'S HOUSE. 133 
 
 dian knot, or the hooks got foul, and had to be extracted by 
 a surgical operation from calf or coat-tail, or the worms broke 
 loose and buried themselves in inaccessible corners of the 
 waistcoat pocket ; and then rods and winches would be packed 
 up, and the pleasure of the day began in earnest. At times, 
 but not without expression of utter distrust of my competency 
 as a waterman, he would permit me to scull him about the 
 river, and one afternoon, on our finding ourselves opposite the 
 house of Theodore Hook at Fulham, he determined to land 
 and make a call on his friend. Hook was not at home ; so, 
 having no card with* him, Mr. Barham asked for pen and 
 paper, and while standing in the hall scribbled off, in as short 
 a time as the reader would take to copy them, the follow- 
 ing: 
 
 LINES LEFT AT HOOK'S HOUSE IN JUNE, 1834. 
 
 " As Dick and I 
 
 Were a sailing by 
 
 At Fulham Bridge, I cocked my eye, 
 And says I, ' Add-zooks! 
 
 There 's Theodore Hook's, 
 Whose Sayings and Doings make such pretty books. 
 
 " ' I wonder,' says I, 
 
 Still keeping my eye 
 
 On the house, ' if he 's in I should like to try ; ' 
 With his oar on his knee, 
 Says Dick, says he, 
 * Father, suppose you land and see ! ' 
 
 " 'What! land and sea,' 
 
 Says I to he ; 
 
 ' Together ! why, Dick, why how can that be ?' 
 And my comical son, 
 Who is fond of fun, 
 I thought would have split his sides at the pun. 
 
 " So we rows to shore, 
 
 And knocks at the door 
 When William, a man I 'd seen often before, 
 
 Makes answer and says, 
 ' Master 's gone in a chaise 
 Called a homnibus, drawn by a couple of bays.'
 
 134 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 " So I say* then, 
 ' Just lend me a pen ; ' 
 
 * I wull, sir,' says William politest of men, 1 
 So having no card, these poetical brayings 
 Are the record I leave of my doings and sayings. ' " 
 
 ANECDOTES OF TALLEYRAND. 
 
 " Diary : August 26, 1834. Party at Williams's. Mac- 
 ready, Jerdan, etc. Abbot had just disappeared, an execution 
 having been put into the Victoria Theatre by Randle Jackson. 
 Talleyrand spoken of as ' having a cold gray eye and perfect 
 impassibility of feature.' He being asked if Sebastiani was not 
 a relative of Napoleon, answered, ' Yes, while he was em- 
 peror; not now!' Meeting the Duke of Wellington on his 
 return from his installation as Chancellor of Oxford, he (Tal- 
 leyrand) told him that he was now covered with glory ; adding 
 that no doubt they would end by making him a bishop ; ' Vous 
 finissez oil fai commend ! ' ' 
 
 BON MOT OF POWER'S. 
 
 " Macready told a story of George B the actor, who, it 
 
 seems, is not popular in the profession, being considered a 
 sort of time-server : ' There goes Georgius,' said some one. 
 ' Not Georgium Sidus,' replied Keeley ; ' Yes,' added Power, 
 ' Georgium Any-s\dus.' " 
 
 SYDNEY SMITHISMS. 
 
 "Diary: November 16, 1834. Dined with Sydney Smith. 
 He said that his brother Robert had, in George III.'s time, 
 translated the motto, Libertas sub rege pin, ' The pious King 
 has got liberty under ; ' also, that he had originally proposed to 
 Jeffrey, Horner, and Brougham, as a motto for the ' Edinburgh 
 Review,' Mtisam meditamur avend, ' We cultivate literature 
 on a little oatmeal.' 
 
 1 This proved eventually not to be a well-placed epithet ; William, who h.ul lived 
 many years with HonU, grew rich and saucy. The latter used to say of him, that 
 for the firit three years he wa as good a servant as ever came into a house : for 
 the next two a kind and considerate friend: and afterwards an abominably lad 
 master-
 
 STOKY OF YATES. 135 
 
 " ' If ever a religious war should arise again,' he said, ' I 
 should certainly take arms against the Dissenters. Fancy me 
 with a bayonet at the heart of an Anabaptist, with, " Your 
 church-rate or your life ! " 
 
 " He said nothing should ever induce him to go up in 
 a balloon, unless indeed it would benefit the Established 
 Church. I recommended him to go at once, as there would 
 at least be a chance of it." 
 
 STORY OF YATES. 
 
 "Diary : January i, 1835. The following story was told 
 me as a fact by George Raymond. Yates (the well-known 
 actor and manager of the Adelphi Theatre) met a friend from 
 Bristol in the street, whom he well recollected as having been 
 particularly civil to his wife and himself when at that town, in 
 which the gentleman was a merchant. Yates, who at that 
 time lived at the Adelphi Theatre, invited his friend to dinner, 
 and made a party, among whom were Hook and Mathews, to 
 meet him. On reaching home he told his wife what he had 
 done, describing the gentleman, and calling to her mind how 
 often they had been at his house near the cathedral. 
 
 " ' I remember him very well,' said Mrs. Yates, ' but I don't 
 just now recollect his name what is it ? ' 
 
 " ' Why, that is the very question I was going to ask you,' 
 returned Yates. ' I know the man as well as I know my own 
 father, but for the life of me I can't remember his name, and I 
 made no attempt to ascertain it, as I made sure you would 
 recollect it ! ' 
 
 " What was to be done ? all that night and the next morn- 
 ing they tried in vain to recover it, but the name had com- 
 pletely escaped them. In this dilemma Yates bethought him 
 of giving instructions to their servant which he considered 
 would solve the difficulty, and calling him in told him to be 
 very careful in asking every gentleman, as he arrived, his 
 name, and to be sure to announce it very distinctly. Six 
 o'clock came, and with it the company in succession, Hook, 
 Mathews, and the rest all but the anonymous guest, whom
 
 136 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 Yates began to think, and almost to hope, would not come at 
 all. Just, however, before the dinner, was put on the table, a 
 knock was heard, and the lad being at that moment in the 
 kitchen, in the act of carrying up a haunch of mutton which the 
 cook had put into his hands, a maid-servant went to the door, 
 admitted the stranger, showed him up-stairs, and opening the 
 drawing-room door allowed him to walk in without any an- 
 nouncement at all. At dinner-time even-body took wine with 
 the unknown, addressing him as ' Sir,' ' A glass of wine, sir ? ' 
 ' Shall I have the honor, sir ? ' etc., but nothing transpired to 
 let out the name, though several roundabout attempts were 
 made to get at it. The evening passed away, and the gentle- 
 man was highly delighted with the company, but about half- 
 past ten o'clock he looked at his watch and rose abruptly, 
 saying, 
 
 " ' Faith, I must be off, or I shall get shut out, for I am 
 going to sleep at a friend's, in the Tower, who starts for Bris- 
 tol with me in the morning. They close the gates at eleven 
 precisely, and I sha'n't get in if I am a minute after, so good- 
 by at once. Be sure you come and see me whenever you 
 visit Bristol." 
 
 " ' Depend on me, my dear friend ; God bless you, if you 
 must go ! ' 
 
 "'Adieu,' said the other, and Yates was congratulating 
 himself on having got out of so awkward a scrape, "when 
 his friend popped his head back into the mom, and cried 
 hastily, 
 
 " ' Oh, by the bye, my dear Yates, I forgot to tell you that 
 I bought a pretty French clock as I came here to-day, at Haw- 
 ley's, but as it needs a week's regulating, I took the liberty of 
 giving your name, and ordering them to send it here, and said 
 that you would forward it. It is paid for.' 
 
 "The door closed, and before Yates could get it open 
 again, the gentleman was in the hall. 
 
 " ' Stop ! ' screamed Yates over the balusters, ' you had 
 better write the address yourself, for fear of a mistake. 
 
 " ' No, no, 1 can't stop, I shall be too late ; the old house, 
 near the cathedral ; good-by ! '
 
 THE CANISTER. 137 
 
 " The street door slammed behind him, and Yates went 
 back to the company in an agony. 
 
 " Douglas repeated a story very similar of King the actor, 
 who, meeting an old friend, whose name he could not recol- 
 lect, took him home to dinner. By way of making the dis- 
 cover)', he addressed him in the evening, having previously 
 made several ineffectual efforts : 
 
 " ' My dear sir, my friend here and myself have had a dis- 
 pute as to how you spell your name ; indeed, we have laid a 
 bottle of wine about it.' 
 
 " ' Oh, with two P's,' was the answer, which left them just 
 as wise as before.' " 
 
 THE CANISTER. 
 
 " We are by no means out of spirit here ; though Sir Robert 
 has given in for the present, his character and that of his 
 Ministry is so raised by his manly and able fight, in the opin- 
 ion of all classes, save and except the mere Marats and Robes- 
 pierres, who are happily contemptible in point of numbers, 
 that it is quite clear indeed, many of his opponents admit 
 it that no stable administration can be formed without him. 
 Even my poor friend V. that ' delicately tinted Radical,' as 
 ' The Age ' not unhappily calls him admits this, sore as he 
 is at having been just turned out of his seat, when he was set- 
 tling himself quietly down and half making up his mind to 
 turn Conservative. After all, he is a gentleman, and a good- 
 natured one, as you will admit when I tell you he did not 
 knock me down for the following piece of impertinence. They 
 were roasting him at the Garrick Club, just before he was 
 unseated, and charging him with belonging to ' The Tail,' 
 which he indignantly denied. ' I will appeal,' said he, ' to 
 the biggest Tory in the room ; Barham, what say you ? Do I 
 deserve, after the manner I have twice voted, to be called a 
 part of the " Tail ? " ' Certainly not,' was the reply : ' you 
 are the canister ! ' He did not seem so flattered by my tak- 
 ing his part as he ought to have been, but I escaped a broken 
 head."
 
 138 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 A DINNER AT CHARLES KEMBLE'S. 
 
 "Diary : December 12, 1835. Dined at Charles Kemble's : 
 a quiet dinner. In the evening Mr. Trelawney (Byron's Tre- 
 lawney) came in : very like a goodish-looking bandit ; radical 
 to the extreme; talked of having 'no objection to calling a 
 man a king, with a moderate salary, when the House of Peers 
 should be purged,' etc. ; said that women might induce him to 
 commit murder, or, ' what was worse, petty larceny ! ' 
 
 "Story of Edward Walpole, who, being told one day at the 
 ' Garrick ' that the confectioners had a way of discharging the 
 ink from old parchment by a chemical process, and then mak- 
 ing the parchment into isinglass for their jellies, said, ' Then 
 I find a man may now eat his deeds as well as his words.' 
 This has been very unfairly, like a great many other bons mots, 
 attributed to James Smith. 
 
 THOMAS MOORE. 
 
 " April 18, 1836. Dined with Owen Rees in Paternoster 
 Row. Present, Mr. Longman, senior, Messrs. C. Longman, 
 T. Longman, W. Longman, Tom Moore, Dr. M'Culloch, Mr. 
 Green, the host, and myself. Dr. Hume, Sydney Smith, and 
 Mr. Tate asked, but could not come. 
 
 " Moore gave an account of the King's (George IV.) visit 
 to Ireland. One man, whom the King took notice of and 
 shook hands with, cried, ' There, then, the divil a drop of 
 wather ye shall ever have to wash that shake o' the hand off 
 of me ! ' and by the color of the said hand a year after it 
 would seem that he had religiously kept his word. Moore 
 told this story to Scott, together with another referring to the 
 same occasion. He spoke of Jeffrey as an excellent judge, 
 and remarked on the difference between his conversation and 
 that of Scott. Scott all anecdote, without any intermediate 
 matter all fact; Jeffrey with a profusion of ideas all worked 
 up into the highest flight of fancy, but no fact. Moore pre- 
 ferred Scott's conversation to Jeffrey's : the latter he got 
 tired of.
 
 THOMAS MOORE. 139 
 
 " Anecdote of the little Eton boy invited to dinner at Wind- 
 sor Castle, and being asked by Queen Adelaide what he would 
 like, replied, * One of those two-penny tarts, if you please, 
 ma'am.' Lord Lansdowne's description of Sydney Smith as 
 ' a mixture of Punch and Cato.' Moore lamented that though 
 his son had just distinguished himself by gaining an exhibi- 
 tion at the Charter House, when his historical essays had been 
 particularly applauded, the prize would be of no use to him, 
 barring the honor, as he is determined to enter the army. 
 His father consoled himself by reflecting that he had given up 
 his original wish, which was for the navy. 
 
 " J. Longman's story of the rival convents, each possessing 
 the same (alleged) relics of St. Francis, the one having fur- 
 nished its reliquary with the beard of an old goat belonging to 
 the establishment, the other asserting its superiority non pour 
 la grandeur, mais pour lafraicheur. 
 
 "Moore talked of O'Connell, and said that he had recently 
 met him in a bookseller's shop ordering materials, in the shape 
 of books, for his new ' Quarterly Review,' and that he had 
 inadvertently offered to lend him a small volume respecting 
 Ireland, but added that he must manage to slip out of his 
 promise somehow. 
 
 " Dan, he said, manoeuvred evidently that they might walk 
 away together, but he (Moore) fought shy of the companionship 
 and outstayed him. He spoke of O'Brien, the author of the 
 ' Round Towers,' and said that that person's hostility to him 
 was occasioned by his declining a proposal for a sort of part- 
 nership in publication. O'Brien wrote to him when he under- 
 took the ' History of Ireland,' saying that he had a complete key 
 to the origin and meaning of the ' Round Towers,' and pro- 
 posed to communicate his secret. If Moore used O'Brien's 
 MS., the compensation was to be a hundred pounds ; if he 
 took the materials and worked them up in his own way, a hun- 
 dred and fifty was to be the sum. This was refused, and 
 O'Brien was deeply offended. He died of an epileptic fit at 
 Hanwell in 1835, an d lies buried in the extreme northwest 
 corner of the church-yard, close to the rector's garden. I hap-
 
 I4O RICHARD HARRIS BAR//A<1f. 
 
 pened accidentally to be present at his funeral. Mr. Mahony, 
 the Father Prout of " Fraser," was a mourner, and, as' I have 
 heard, paid the expenses.' 
 
 " Conversation respecting Hook's proposed ' History of 
 Hanover' all of opinion that it would not answer. Moore 
 said that he had met Hook twice only, once at Croker's, in 
 Paris ; that he was very silent both times, and called Croker 
 ' Sir.' " 
 
 It was, I believe, on this occasion that one of the Messrs. 
 Longman present mentioned to my father the following quaint 
 answer returned by Sydney Smith to an invitation to din- 
 ner : 
 
 " DEAR LONGMAN, I can't accept your invitation, for my 
 house is full of country cousins. I wish they were once 
 removed. Yours, SYDNEY SMITH." 
 
 " I dined in company with Tom Moore the other day, who 
 talked to me a good deal about him, and said that Lord Lans- 
 downe, in allusion to his severity as a man of business and 
 levity at the dinner-table, described him as being 'an odd 
 mixture of Punch and Cato.' He could hardly have hit him 
 off better. I know you are not over fond of Moore: /hate 
 his politics, but he is a very amusing companion. 
 
 " I must tell you one of his stories, because as Sir Walter 
 Scott is the hero of it, I know it will not be unacceptable to 
 you. When George IV. went to Ireland, one of the 'pisin- 
 try,' delighted with his affability to the crowd on landing, 
 said to the toll-keeper as the King passed through, 
 
 " ' Och, now ! and his Majesty, God bless him, never paid 
 the turnpike ! an' how 's that ? ' 
 
 " ' Oh ! kings never does : we lets 'em go free,' was the 
 answer. 
 
 "'Then there's the dirty money for ye,' says Pat. 'It 
 shall never be said that the King came here, and found no- 
 body to pay the turnpike for him.' 
 
 " Moore, on his visit to Abbotsford, told this story to Sir 
 Walter, when they were comparing notes as to the two royal 
 visits.
 
 BAR HA M'S LO VE FOR CHILDREN AND CA TS. 141 
 
 " ' Now, Mr. Moore,' replied Scott, ' there ye have just the 
 advantafe of us. There was no want of enthusiasm here : 
 the Scotch folk would have done anything in the world for his 
 Majesty, but pay the turnpike.' " 
 
 BARHAM'S LOVE OF CHILDREN AND CATS. 
 
 In his intercourse with his children, but more particularly 
 with his youngest son. Ned, my father was always playful and 
 affectionate. He loved to have them about him, and would 
 continue to read and write, keeping them up of an evening far 
 beyond the canonical hours, wholly unmindful of the chatter- 
 ing that raged around. Our delight was at its height when he 
 could be coaxed into laying aside pen and book, and induced 
 to draw round to the fire and " tell us a story." He had a 
 manner of doing this, half thrilling, half comic, leaving the 
 audience in a pleasing state of excitement, mingled with un- 
 certainty as to the exact amount of credit to be given to the 
 narrative, that proved strangely fascinating to us young folks, 
 to say nothing of our elders. The pleasure second only in 
 degree was to receive* a letter from him. This would not un- 
 frequently be written in verse, but always with a liveliness 
 and easy humor which, while specially adapted to the taste 
 and capacity of the child, may be read perhaps with some de- 
 gree of amusement by those of larger growth. At all events, 
 a trait of character is exhibited in these unstudied effusions, 
 without some notice of which the present slight sketch would 
 be yet more incomplete. 
 
 TO MASTER EDWARD BARHAM (xtat. 8). 
 
 "August 17, 1836. 
 " My dear little Ned, 
 
 As I fear you have read 
 All the books that you have, from great A down to Z, 
 
 And your aunt, too, has said 
 
 That you ; re very well bred, 
 And don't scream and yell fit to waken the dead, 
 
 I think that instead 
 
 Of that vile gingerbread 
 With which little boys, I know, like to be fed
 
 142 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 (Though, lying like lead 
 
 On the stomach, the head , 
 
 Gets affected, of which most mammas have a dread), 
 
 I shall rather be led 
 
 Before you to spread 
 These two little volumes, one blue and one red. 
 
 As three shillings have fled 
 
 From my pocket, dear Ned. 
 Don't dog's-ear nor dirt them, nor read them in bed! 
 
 " Your affectionate Father, R. H. B." 
 
 Next to his wife and children, I verily believe my father 
 loved his cats. One or two would commonly be seen sitting 
 on his table sometimes on his shoulder as he wrote ; and 
 these animals, constantly taught and tended by his youngest 
 daughter, attained a degree of docility and intelligence that in 
 good King James's day might have brought their mistress into 
 disagreeable communication with His Majesty's Witchfinder- 
 General. The progenitor of the race was brought home by 
 Mr. Ilarham, not without serious detriment to his broadcloth, 
 one wet night soon after his arrival in London. He had 
 rescued the poor little creature, bleeding and muddy, from a 
 band of juvenile street Arabs, who were engaged in studying 
 practically " the art of ingeniously tormenting." The progeny 
 survived, and was ever held in high esteem. One of my 
 father's last injunctions was " Take care of ' Chance ' (an in- 
 terloper) for my sake : Jerry (the representative of the true 
 breed) will be taken care of for his own." On the back of an 
 old letter there is scribbled a sort of remonstrance addressed 
 to the latter : 
 
 TO JERRY. 
 
 "Jerry, my cat. 
 
 What the deuce are you at ? 
 
 What makes you so restless? You 're sleek and you're fat, 
 And you 've everything; cozy about you, now that 
 Soft rug you are lying on beats any mat ; 
 
 Your coat 's smooth as silk, 
 
 You've plenty of milk, 
 
 You've the fish-bones for dinner, and always o 1 nights 
 For (.upper you know you 've a penn'orth o' lights t 
 
 Jerry, my cat. 
 
 What the deuce are you it?
 
 MAS. RICKETTS* GHOST STORY. 143 
 
 What is it, my Jerry, that fidgets you so? 
 What is it you're wanting ? 
 
 (Jerry) Moll roe ! Moll roe! 
 
 " Oh, don't talk to me of such nonsense as th.it ! 
 You 've been always a very respectable cat ; 
 As the Scotch would say, ' Whiles ' 
 You T ve been out on the tiles ; 
 
 But you 've sown your wild oats, and you very well know 
 You 're no longer a kitten. 
 
 (Jerry) Moll roe ! Moll roe I 
 
 "Well, Jerry, I "m really concerned for your case : 
 I 've been young, and can fancy myself in your place : 
 Time has been I 've stood 
 By the edge of the wood, 
 
 And have mewed that is, whistled, a Sound just as good ; 
 But we 're both of us older, my cat, as you know,. 
 And I hope are grown wiser. 
 
 (Jerry) Moll roe! Moll roe ! " 
 
 MRS. RICKETTS' GHOST STORY. 
 
 " It was about the period when Captain Jervis, afterwards 
 Earl St. Vincent, commanded the Thunderer (Foudroyant ?) 
 in which he so much distinguished himself, that on the return 
 of that gallant commander to England, he found his sister, 
 Mrs. Ricketts, the wife of Mr. Ricketts of Jamaica, a bencher 
 of Gray's Inn, residing in a house between Alston and Als- 
 ford in Hampshire, about four or five miles from Abingdon, 
 the seat of the Buckingham family. This house, then called 
 ' New House,' was part of the property of the noble family of 
 Legge, and of that particular branch of it of which the Lord 
 Stawell (a peerage now extinct) had been the head. It had 
 been principally occupied during* his life by a Mr. Legge, a 
 scion of the family, notorious for his debauched and profligate 
 habits, and after his decease had remained for some time un- 
 occupied, gradually acquiring, as is the case with most un- 
 occupied mansions of a similar description, the reputation of 
 being the resort of supernatural visitants. 
 
 " To this circumstance, perhaps, and the consequent diffi- 
 culty of finding a tenant, may be attributed the easy terms on
 
 144 RICHARD HARRIS BAKU A.M. 
 
 which Mr. Ricketts obtained it as a residence for his wife 
 and family, during his own absence on a visit to his estates in 
 the West Indies. This gentleman seems to have held the 
 stories connected with the building in thorough contempt, a 
 sentiment partaken of by Mrs. Ricketts herself, who was nat- 
 urally a strong-minded woman, and whose good sense had 
 acquired additional strength from the advantages of an excel- 
 lent education. 
 
 " To ' New House ' then the lady had repaired almost im- 
 mediately after her husband's departure for Jamaica, purpos- 
 ing in quiet retirement to superintend there the education of 
 her daughter (afterwards married to the Earl of Northesk). 
 
 " Mrs. Ricketts had not long been located in her new dom- 
 icile, before the servants began to complain of certain unac- 
 countable noises which were heard in the house by day as 
 well as by night, and the origin of which they found it impos- 
 sible to detect. The story of the house being haunted was 
 revived with additional vigor, especially when its mistress be- 
 came herself an ear-witness of those remarkable sounds, and 
 an investigation, set on foot and carried on under her own 
 immediate superintendence, assisted by several friends whom 
 she called in upon the occasion, had proved as ineffectual as 
 those previously instituted by the domestics. The noises 
 continued, as did the alarm of the servants, which increased 
 to an absolute panic, and the whole of them at length, with 
 the exception of an old and attached attendant on Mrs. Rick- 
 etts' person, gave warning and left their situations in a body. 
 
 " A thorough change in the household, however, produced 
 no other effect than that of proving beyond a doubt that the 
 noises, from whatever cause they might proceed, were at 
 least not produced by the instrumentality or collusion of the 
 domestics. A second and a third set were tried, but with no 
 better result ; few could be prevailed upon to stay beyond the 
 month. 
 
 " It was at this time that Mrs. Gwynne, from whose mouth 
 Mrs. Hughes had this relation, came to reside a short time 
 with her old and dear friend, and being a woman of strong
 
 MRS RICKETTS^ GHOST STORY. 145 
 
 nerve, she remained with her longer than she had originally 
 intended, although not a day or night passed without their 
 being disturbed. Mrs. Gwynne described the sounds as most 
 frequently resembling the ripping and rending of boards, ap- 
 parently those of the floor above, or below (as the case might 
 be) that in which her friend and herself were sitting ; but on 
 more than one occasion she herself distinctly heard the whis- 
 perings of three voices, seemingly so close to her that, by put- 
 ting out her hand, she fancied she could have touched the 
 persons uttering them. One of the voices was clearly that of 
 a female, who appeared to be earnestly imploring some one 
 with tears and sobbings ; a manly, resolute voice was evi- 
 dently refusing her entreaty, while rough, harsh, and most dis- 
 cordant tones, as of some hardened ruffian, were occasion- 
 ally heard interfering ; these last were succeeded by two 
 loud and piercing shrieks from the female ; then followed the 
 crashing of boards again, and all was quiet for the time. 
 
 " The visitations were so frequently repeated that, at 
 length, even Mrs. G Wynne's constancy began to give way, 
 and she prepared to leave her friend. Previously to her de- 
 parture, however, she was aroused one night by Mrs. Rick- 
 etts' cries (who slept in the next chamber to her), and on run- 
 ning to her assistance, was informed that, just before, she, 
 Mrs. Ricketts, had distinctly heard some person jump from 
 the window-sill down on the floor at the foot of the bed, and 
 that, as the chamber door had continued bolted, he must still 
 be in the room. The strictest search was made, but no one 
 was discovered. 
 
 " Various were the causes assigned in the neighborhood by 
 the peasantry for these supernatural visitations, the history 
 of which had now become rife all over that country side. 
 Among other things it was said that Mr. Legge had always 
 been a notorious evil liver, that he had held in his employ one 
 Robin, as butler, a man with a remarkably deep-toned, hoarse, 
 guttural voice, who was well known as a pander to all his 
 master's vices and worst passions, and the unprincipled ex- 
 ecutor of all his oppressive dealings with his tenantry. That 
 10
 
 146 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 there was also a niece of Mr. Legge's resident with her uncle, 
 and that dark rumors had been afloat of her having been at 
 one time in the family way, though, as they said, ' nothing ' 
 ever came of it,' and no child was ever known to have been 
 born ; heavy suspicions, indeed, had been entertained on that 
 score by the village gossips, which had gone so far that noth- 
 ing but the wealth and influence of the squire had stifled in- 
 quiry. What had eventually become of the young lady no 
 one knew, but it was supposed she had gone abroad before 
 her uncle's death. 
 
 " Mrs. Ricketts and her friends endeavored to follow up 
 these rumors, but the only thing they could arrive at with any 
 degree of certainty was what they learned from an aged man, 
 a carpenter, who declared that many years ago he had been 
 sent for to the Hall, and had been taken by Robin up into 
 one of the bedrooms, where, by his direction, he had cut out 
 a portion of one of the planks, and also part of the joist be- 
 low ; upon which the butler had brought a box, which he said 
 contained valuable title deeds that his master wished to have 
 placed in security, and having put it into the cavity ordered 
 him to nail down the plank as before. This, he said, he had 
 done, and could easily point out the place. 
 
 " Mrs. Ricketts ordered the man to be conducted up-stairs, 
 when he at once fixed on the door of her own sleeping apart- 
 ment, saying, that, though it was a good many years ago, he 
 was certain that was the room. On being introduced, he 
 looked about for an instant, and then pointed out a part of the 
 floor where there was evidently a separation in the plank, and 
 which Mrs. Ricketts declared was the precise spot, as near as 
 she could have described it, where the supposed intruder had 
 alighted on his jump from the window. 
 
 " The board was immediately taken up ; the joist below was 
 found to be half sawn through, and the upper portion re- 
 moved, precisely as the carpenter had described it ; the cavity, 
 however, was empty, and the box, if box there had been, must 
 have been removed at some previous opportunity. After this 
 investigation which ended in nothing, the noises and the whis-
 
 M/tS. RICKETTS 1 GHOST STORY. 147 
 
 perings, through never distinct, continued with but little di- 
 minution in frequency, and proved sufficient to render the house 
 exceedingly uncomfortable to its inmates. 
 
 " Matters were in this state, when Captain Jervis, on his re- 
 turn to England, made his appearance at New House, with his 
 friend Colonel Luttrell, to pay a visit to his sister. He had 
 already heard of her annoyance, by letter, and of her dis- 
 inclination to take the step he recommended, of removing, 
 from the fear of offending her husband, who was somewhat of 
 a martinet at home, and would of course treat the whole story 
 as a fable. Captain Jervis seemed himself very much inclined 
 to look upon it at first in the same light, or rather to consider 
 it as a trick for he had no doubt of his sister's veracity 
 and a trick which he was determined to find out. 
 
 " With this view, the Colonel and himself, sending all the 
 rest of the family to bed, sat up, each in a separate parlor on 
 the ground-floor, with loaded pistols by their side, and all 
 other appurtenances most approved, when people have the 
 prospect before them of a long night to be spent in ghost- 
 hunting. 
 
 " The clock had stricken ' one,' when the sounds already 
 mentioned, as of persons ripping up the floor above, were sim- 
 ultaneously heard by both. Each rushed from the parlor he 
 occupied, with a light in one hand and a cocked pistol in the 
 other, and encountered his friend in the passage. At first, a 
 slight altercation ensued between them, each accusing the 
 other of a foolish attempt at a hoax ; but the colloquy was 
 brought to an abrupt termination by the same sounds which 
 each had heard separately being now renewed, and to all out- 
 ward seeming, immediately above their heads. The whisper- 
 ing, too, at this juncture, became audible to both. 
 
 " The gentlemen rushed up-stairs, aroused their servants, 
 and commenced a vigorous and immediate search throughout 
 the whole premises ; nothing, however, was found more than 
 on any former occasion of the same kind, with this exception, 
 that in one of the rooms sounds were distinctly heard of a 
 different character from any before noticed, and resembling,
 
 148 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 as Mrs. Gwynne averred, ' the noise which would be produced 
 by the rattling dry bones in a box.' They seemed to proceed 
 from one of two presses which filled up a portion of the apart- 
 ment ; the door was immediately burst open, and the piece of 
 furniture knocked to pieces ; every search was made around, 
 and even in the wall to which it had adjoined ; but still, as 
 heretofore, all investigation was fruitless. Captain Jervis, how- 
 ever, at once took upon himself the responsibility of removing 
 his sister and her family to a farm-house in the same parish, 
 where they remained till Mr. Ricketts' return. 
 
 "That part of the county of Hants being much the resort of 
 smugglers, an attempt has been made to account for these 
 events by attributing them to their agency, aided by the col- 
 lusion of the servants. The latter part of the supposition 
 could not be true, the whole household having been so fre- 
 quently changed. Even Mrs. Ricketts' favorite maid had at 
 last, most reluctantly, abandoned her ; besides which Mrs. R. 
 had, throughout the whole business, kept a diary of the trans- 
 action, which she had regularly caused all the domestics, as 
 they left her service, to sign, in attestation of its truth, as far 
 as their own personal experience had qualified them so to do. 
 Mrs. Gwynne herself, as well as a few other visitors, had done 
 the same, and this diary coming into the hands of her daughter 
 at her mother's decease, had been in the same way transmitted 
 to the granddaughter, in whose possession it now is. 
 
 " It remains to be added, that with Lord St. Vincent the sub- 
 ject was a very sore one to the day of his death ; and any allu- 
 sion to it always brought on a fit of ill-humor, and a rebuke to 
 him who ventured to make it. The house has been since, I 
 believe, pulled down, but it does not appear that anything has 
 occurred to throw any light on the mystery, or to strengthen 
 or refute the suspicions which the good folks in the neighbor- 
 hood entertained of the crime of Mr. Legge, and the unrest 
 which his spirit, and those of his supposed coadjutor and 
 victim, had experienced from the date of his delinquency. 
 
 " Mrs. Hughes expressed her doubt as to the accuracy of the 
 name of the mansion in which all these strange occurrences
 
 MRS. RICKETTS' GHOST STORY. 149 
 
 took place, but of the fact she was positive. The way in which 
 she first became acquainted with them was as follows : Mrs. 
 Gwynne, being a visitor at her mother's house, was about 
 to relate the story, when she was checked by the hostess, who 
 requested her to wait till Mary Anne (Mrs. Hughes), at that 
 time a child, was gone to bed. This so excited the girl's cu- 
 riosity, that she contrived to hide herself behind the curtains 
 of the room till the ' ghost story ' was told." 
 
 According to another version which was given by an elderly 
 lady named Hoy, to Lady Douglas, fronr whom I heard it, the 
 scene of these strange events was Marwell Hall, a lonely man- 
 sion situated between Bishopstoke and Winchester. The 
 house had been the residence of Jane Seymour, and prepara- 
 tions for her marriage with Henry are said to have been going 
 on within its walls during the very day appointed for the ex- 
 ecution of the hapless Anne Boleyn. Miss Hoy maintained 
 that it was no other than the ghost of the unfeeling Queen 
 Jane who used to disturb the inmates, and whose uncomfort- 
 able habits led eventually to the destruction of her former 
 abode. For the old lady went on to say that Captain Jervis, 
 having watched in the haunted room alone one night, during 
 which he was heard to fire a couple of pistol shots, appeared 
 next morning with a grave and troubled countenance ; that 
 he positively refused to answer any questions as to what had 
 taken place, but at once sought an interview with the landlord, 
 and in consequence of the communication made to him, but 
 withheld from all others, the house was shortly after demol- 
 ished, and a modern habitation erected in its place. It is 
 obvious that these two versions may be partially reconciled on 
 the very probable supposition that it is the present building 
 which is known as the " New House," and that it has been con- 
 founded by Mrs. Hughes with the original Marwell Hall. Of 
 course considerable difference of opinion must continue to 
 exist respecting the identity of the ghost, unless, indeed, it 
 should be allowed that the two, like rival tragedians engaged 
 at the same theatre, used to perform on alternate nights.
 
 I5O RICJIARD If ARRIS HARHAM. 
 
 PICKLED COCKLES. 
 
 " A certain notable housewife he [Cannon] used to say 
 had observed that her stock of pickled cockles was running 
 remarkably low, and she spoke to the cook in consequence, 
 who alone had access to them. The cook had noticed the 
 same serious deficiency : ' she could n't tell how, but they cer- 
 tainly ^/disappeared much too fast ! ' A degree of coolness, 
 approaching to estrangement, ensued between these worthy 
 individuals, which the rapid consumption of the pickled 
 cockles by no means contributed to remove. The lady became 
 more distant than ever, spoke pointedly and before company 
 of ' some people's unaccountable partiality to pickled cockles,' 
 etc. The cook's character was at stake : unwilling to give 
 warning, with such an imputation upon her self-denial, not to 
 say honesty, she, nevertheless, felt that all confidence between 
 her mistress and herself was at an end. 
 
 " One day, the jar containing the evanescent condiment 
 being placed as usual on the dresser, while she was busily 
 engaged in basting a joint before the fire, she happened to 
 turn suddenly round, and beheld, to her great indignation, a 
 favorite magpie, remarkable for his conversational powers and 
 general intelligence, perched by its side, and dipping his beajc 
 down the open neck with every symptom of gratification. The 
 mystery was explained the thief detected ! Grasping the 
 ladle of scalding grease which she held in her hand, the exas- 
 perated lady dashed the whole contents over the hapless pet, 
 accompanied by the exclamation, 
 
 " ' Oh, d mz,you 've been at the pickled cockles, have ye ? ' 
 
 " Poor Mag, of course, was dreadfully burnt ; most of his 
 feathers came off, leaving his little round pate, which had 
 caught the principal part of the volley, entirely bare. The 
 poor bird moped about, lost all his spirit, and never spoke for 
 a whole year. 
 
 " At length, when he had pretty well recovered and was 
 beginning to chatter again, a gentleman called at the house, 
 who, on taking off his hat, discovered a very bald head ! The
 
 POETICAL EPISTLE TO DR. HUME. 151 
 
 magpie, who happened to be in the room, appeared evidently 
 struck by the circumstance : his reminiscences were at once 
 powerfully excited by the naked appearance of the gentleman's 
 skull. Hopping upon the back of his chair, and looking him 
 hastily over, he suddenly exclaimed in the ear of the as- 
 tounded visitor, 
 
 " ' Oh, d me, you 'vt been at the pickled cockles, have 
 ye?'" 
 
 GEAME FEATHERS. 
 
 " Mr. Wood, the conchologist, once told me a story, which 
 I think carries friendly consolation and good offices in ex- 
 tremis to even a higher pitch. 
 
 , " He was once a surgeon at Windham, in Kent, and said 
 that, in the course of his practice, he had to pay what he con- 
 sidered would be his last visit to an elderly laboring man on 
 Adisham Downs. He had left him in the last stage of illness 
 the day before, and was not surprised on calling again to find 
 him dead, but did experience a little' astonishment at seeing 
 the bed on which he had been lying now withdrawn from under 
 the body, and placed in the middle of the floor. To his re- 
 marks, the answer given by her who had officiated as nurse (?) 
 was, 
 
 " ' Dearee me, sir, you see there was partridge-feathers in the 
 bed, and folks can't die upon geame feathers, nohow, and we 
 thought as how he never would go, so we pulled the bed away, 
 and then I just pinched his poor nose tight with one hand, and 
 shut his mouth close with t' other, and, poor dear ! he went off 
 like a lamb ! ' " 
 
 POETICAL EPISTLE TO DR. HUME. 
 
 On the ninth November of this year (1837), the Queen came 
 in state to dine with the Lord Mayor at the annual banquet at 
 Guildhall. Preparations on the most magnificent scale were 
 made to receive her ; throughout the whole line of march scaf- 
 foldings were erected, windows were fitted up, balconies thrown 
 out, the most conspicuous positions being occupied by ladies 
 in rich and varied raiment, all glorious to behold. Seats com-
 
 152 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 manding a view of the procession were sold at extravagant 
 prices, and were with difficulty to be procured on any terms. 
 Mr. Barham's house in St. Paul's Church-yard was of course 
 thronged with visitors, 1 and an invitation was conveyed in the 
 following terms to his old friend Dr. Hume : 
 
 TO DR. HUME. 
 
 " ST. P. C Y., Novtmbtr 4, 1837- 
 
 " Doctor dear! the Queen's a coining! 
 
 All this ancient city round ; 
 Scarce a place to squeeze one's thumb in, 
 High or low, can now be found ; 
 
 " So my spouse you '11 hardly thank her 
 
 Thus in substance bids me say 
 
 ' Bring your sweet self to an anchor, 
 
 Doctor dear, with us that day t ' 
 
 " If no haunch your palate tickles, 
 
 If no turtle greet your eye, 
 There '11 be cold roast beef and pickles, 
 Ox-tail soup, and pigeon pie. 
 
 " Fear not then the knaves who fleece men 
 
 Johnny Raws, and country muffs I 
 There 'II be lots of new policemen 
 To control the rogues and roughs. 
 
 " Doctor darling! think how grand is 
 
 Such a sight ! the great Lord Ma/r 
 Heading all the city dandies 
 There on horseback takes the air ! 
 
 " Chains and maces all attend, he 
 Rides all glorious to be seen ; 
 ' Lad o* wax ! ' great Heaven forfend he 
 Don't get spilt before the Queen ! 
 
 " Blue-coat boy* with classic speeches, 
 From our windows you shall view 
 
 1 Among those present was Mr. Poole. At the dinner which followed the specta- 
 cle one of the guest*, moved by enthusiasm and loyalty, to say nothing of champagne, 
 roe to propose the health of the Queen. " We have heard to-day,'' he commenced, 
 " many hurrahs" " Yes," interrupted Poole, " and we have seen to-day many hut' 
 tart I "
 
 AN ACCOMPLISHED SWINDLER. 153 
 
 Their yellow stockings, yellow breeches, 
 And ' long togs' of deepest blue. 
 
 " Here the cutlers, there the nailers, 
 
 Here the barber-surgeons stand, 
 Goldsmiths here there merchant tailors, 
 And in front the Coldstream Band! 
 
 "Gas-lights, links, and flambeaux blazing, 
 
 These will shame the noon-tide ray ; 
 ' Night ! pooh ! stuff ! 't is quite amazing 1 
 Why 't is brighter far than day ! ' 
 
 " But a scene so brilliant mocks all 
 Power its beauties to declare ; 
 Once beheld, poor Gye of Vauxhall 
 Hangs himself in deep despair ! 
 
 " Come then, Doctor, quit your shrubbery, 
 
 Cock your castor o'er your ear ; 
 Come and gaze, and taste the grubbery, 
 Ah, now join us, Doctor dear! 
 
 "R. H. B." 
 
 AN ACCOMPLISHED SWINDLER. 
 
 By the detection of an accomplished swindler Mr. Barham 
 was the means of relieving a friend from a burden borne cheer- 
 fully for some years. He (my father) received a note one 
 
 morning from the Bishop of begging him to call as soon 
 
 as possible, the writer being about to leave town in a few 
 hours. The Bishop was found immersed in business, and he 
 hastily explained the cause of the summons he had sent. 
 
 " I have been in the habit," he said, "of paying quarterly a 
 small sum to the relict of a deceased clergyman. He was a 
 worthless fellow enough, and on his death his widow and daugh- 
 ter were left without a farthing and without a friend. They 
 called upon me, and I was much struck by their ladylike and re- 
 fined manners, by their grief and by their poverty, evidences of 
 which were painfully conspicuous. I promised some periodical 
 assistance, and I have never failed to send it punctually till 
 now, when I find to my horror that I have permitted the lapse of 
 nearly a week. Now I want you to call and explain to these 
 poor people the cause of my neglect, which is illness, and ex-
 
 154 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 press my sorrow at any inconvenience it may have caused 
 them. At the same time you can hand them my usual contri- 
 bution, and should their circumstances seem to require it, you 
 may increase it according to your discretion." 
 
 In the course of that afternoon Mr. Barham called at a house 
 
 in Salisbury Street, Strand. Was Mrs. at home ? It 
 
 appeared, after a prolonged and audible discussion carried on 
 
 above, that Mrs. was at home ; would the gentleman 
 
 " leave his business ? " The gentleman would with pleasure 
 leave his business with the person whom it concerned. Well, 
 he could walk up-stairs " first floor, front." And up-stairs 
 accordingly he walked. On entering the drawing-room he found 
 it very showily, if not handsomely furnished ; as much or more 
 might be said of the two ladies who occupied it. One, the 
 elder, was reclining in an arm-chair, and comforting hcrself-in 
 her bereavement with a tumbler of what smelt suspiciously like 
 grog hot ! The younger, somewhat more decolletee than 
 was quite suitable to the time of day, or indeed to any time of 
 day, was dressed in great splendor, and was warbling her woes 
 to a pianoforte accompaniment. The entrance of the intruder, 
 for such he at once perceived himself to be, produced a de- 
 cided effect upon both. The younger swung gracefully around 
 upon her music stool and faced him ; the elder arose, and in 
 an angry tone demanded whom he was and what he wanted. 
 
 He was a friend of the Bishop of , and what he wanted 
 
 was to apologize for mistaking the ladies before him for Mrs. 
 and Miss . 
 
 " That 's my name, and that 's my daughter," was the reply. 
 
 " Indeed ! " observed Mr. Barham, "then, Madam, the mis- 
 take is the Bishop's, and not mine." Upon this the lady, who 
 was a trifle thick of speech, and had seemingly required a good 
 deal of stimulating to raise her spirits, began to use language 
 which would rather have astonished his lordship if he could 
 have heard and comprehended it. But the daughter interposed 
 and begged politely to know the object of the visit. 
 
 " My object, Madam, was to convey to your mother a com- 
 munication from the Bishop of , but it is one which I now
 
 A SONG OF SIXPENCE. 1 5 5 
 
 feel to be so completely out of place that I must ask you to 
 apply for it to his lordship in person, on his return from the 
 country if you think Jit.'''' 
 
 So saying, Mr. Barham retreated as speedily as possible 
 from the house, and no more was ever heard, so far as I am 
 aware, of the distressing case he had left there unrelieved. 
 
 A SONG OF SIXPENCE. 
 
 " Diary : October, 1838. The following is a doggerel ver- 
 sification of a correspondence between M B , the 
 
 celebrated singer and surgeon, and the committee of the Gar- 
 rick Club. The question arose about the charge of ' sixpence 
 for the table ' always added to the bill when refreshments are 
 
 ordered between the hours of four and nine. Mr. B 
 
 angrily insisted on this sum being deducted, as at a quarter 
 before eight he had ordered supper and not dinner. The 
 stanzas are almost literal versions of the original letters put 
 into rhyme. 
 
 A SONG OF SIXPENCE. 
 
 No. I. 
 
 " Mr. B sends his bill back won't pay it and begs 
 
 To inform the Committee they're regular ' legs,' 
 
 And have charged him too much for his ham and his eggs! " 
 
 No. II. 
 
 "Dear Sir, The Committee direct me to say 
 That the bill's quite correct which was sent you to day ; 
 It was not eight o'clock when you sat down to dine, 
 And we charge for the table from four until nine. 
 They have not the least wish your remonstrance to stifle, 
 But you 're wrong and they '11 thank you to pay that 'ere trifle ! 
 I am further desired to inform Mr. B. 
 That, in calling them ' legs,' he makes rather too free. J. W." 
 
 No. III. 
 
 " You may tell that banditti, the Committee, 
 
 Not a chop-house would charge me so much in the City. 
 
 "!' was no dinner at all ; I meant only to sup ; 
 
 If you say that I dined, you 're a lying old pup ! 
 
 You may tell the Committee again and I say it, 
 
 They are ' legs ' and sixpence ! I 'm hanged if I pay it. W B."
 
 156 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 No. IV. 
 
 " Sir, Once more the Committee direct me to state, 
 When you sat down to dinner it had not struck eight ; 
 When you come to consider what ' table ' means here 
 Cloth, napkin, wax, vinegar, mustard, oil, beer, 
 Pepper, pickles, and bread at discretion it 's.clear 
 The additional sixpence can never be dear! 
 So you 'd better fork out, sir, at once ; if you won't 
 They must really enforce it and blessed if they don't I J. W." 
 
 No. V. 
 " Take the sixpence, you thieves I I say still it 's a chouse ; 
 
 Your threat to ' enforce ' I don' t value one 
 
 And hang me if I ever :et foot in your house! W. B." 
 
 No. VI. 
 
 " Sir, Since writing my last I have asked the advice 
 Of my friends Mr. Bacon and Governor Price, 
 
 And the Governor says ' he '11 be sir ' if I 'm 
 
 Not a jackass for writing what I thought sublime ; 
 
 ' It 's just what the fellows wanted ; you'd better 
 
 Get somebody else, sir, to write you a letter 
 Withdrawing your own.' So I have, and I '11 thank 
 The Committee to mark that this comes by a frank.'' 
 
 No. VII. 
 " Mr. Winston presents his best compliments begs 
 
 To inform Mr. B he is somewhat mistaken 
 
 If, having got into his scrape by his eggs, 
 He thinks to get out of it now by his Bacon I " 
 
 THE QUEEN OF THE BELGIANS. 
 
 " What think you of a visit from, and confabulation with, 
 the Queen of the Belgians ! On Saturday, I was in the li- 
 brary at St. Paul's, my ' custom always in an afternoon,' with 
 a bookbinder's 'prentice and a printer's devil, looking out fifty 
 dilapidated folios for rebinding ; I had on a coat which, from 
 a foolish prejudice in the multitude against patched elbows, 
 I wear nowhere else, my hands and face encrusted with the 
 dust of years, and wanting only the shovel I had the brush 
 to sit for the portrait of a respectable master chimney- 
 sweeper, when the door opened, and in walked the Cap of 
 Maintenance bearing the sword of, and followed by the Lord 
 Mayor in full fig, with the prettiest and liveliest little French-
 
 MONCRIEF, THE DRAMATIST. 157 
 
 woman leaning upon his arm. Nobody could get at the 
 ' Lions ' but myself ; I was fairly in for it, and was thus 
 presented in the most rechercht, if not the most expensive, 
 court dress that I will venture to say the eyes of royalty were 
 ever greeted withal. Heureusement pour mot, she spoke ex- 
 cellent English, however, and rattled on with a succession of 
 questions, which I answered as best I might. They were 
 sensible, however, showed some acquaintance with literature, 
 and a very good knowledge of dates. 
 
 " My gaucherie afforded her one opportunity of displaying 
 her acquaintance with chronology which she did not miss. 
 The date of a MS. was the question ; I unthinkingly re- 
 ferred to that of the Battle of Agincortrt an allusion which 
 a courtier would have shunned as a rock ahead, considering 
 the figure an Orleans cut in that fight. It was not quite so 
 bad certainly as the gentleman telling Prince Eugene that ' a 
 certain event took place in the year the Countess of Soissons 
 (his mother) poisoned her husband,' but it was enough to 
 have made poor Colonel Dalton faint. She relieved me, how- 
 ever, in an instant by saying, ' Ah ! 1415,' while George C , 
 
 who was with her, coolly asked ' when it was printed? ' She 
 turned to him briskly, and said at once, ' You see it is a man- 
 uscript,' which satisfied the gentleman of the bedchamber, and 
 saved my reply." 
 
 MONCRIEF, THE DRAMATIST. 
 
 " October 17, 1839. Went with W. Harrison Ainsworth to 
 call on Mr. Moncrief, author of the forthcoming version of 
 'Jack Sheppard' for the Victoria Theatre. Moncrief was 
 quite blind, but remarkably cheerful. He gave us in detail 
 the outline of the plot as he had arranged it, all except the 
 conclusion, which had not as yet been published in the novel, 
 but which Ainsworth promised to send him. Moncrief, in a 
 very extraordinary manner, went through what he had done, 
 without having occasion to refer to any book or person, sing- 
 ing the songs introduced, and reciting all the material points 
 of the dialogue. He adverted to his literary controversy with
 
 158 K 1C HARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 Charles Dickens, respecting the dramatic version of ' Nicho- 
 las Nickleby,' which he declared he would never have written, 
 had Dickens sent him a note to say it would be disagreeable 
 to him." 
 
 THE SENTIMENTAL CHILD. 
 
 " It reminded me of what passed between myself and Dr. 
 Wilmot's little daughter, many years ago ; I accompanied the 
 little body, a fine, intelligent, and, as I thought, too senti- 
 mental child of nine years old, out into the poultry yard, to 
 look at her ' dear little chicks,' during the awkward half-hour 
 before dinner. We were great friends ; and after introducing 
 me to the 'gray hen who was cluck] and to the 'bantams,' and 
 to the ' everlasting layers,' I was at length ushered to the pig- 
 sty to look at her ' own dear little pig,' whom ' she loved so 
 much.' All due commendation was of course lavished on my 
 side upon such a pet ; and when we took leave of the little 
 brute, whose eyes really seemed to look gratefully towards its 
 too partial mistress, the young lady concluded her an revoir 
 with 4 Bless you, dear little piggy ! how pretty you are ; and 
 how nice you will be when we come to eat you ! ' It was im- 
 possible to doubt the probability of the prophecy ; but how- 
 ever I might revere her as a sage, the young lady sank to zero 
 as a sentimentalist. After all this nouvelle Heloise was right 
 perhaps, and only working out her great namesake's prob- 
 lem, 
 
 '" What/*r* we doat on, when \ isfifs we lovel ' " 
 
 THE UNLUCKY PRESENT. 
 
 An old gentleman, a merchant in Bush Lane, had an only 
 daughter, possessed of the highest attractions, moral, per- 
 sonal, and pecuniary ; she was engaged, and devotedly at- 
 tached, to a young man in her own rank of life, one in every 
 respect well worthy of her choice. All preliminaries were 
 arranged, and the marriage, after two or three postponements, 
 was fixed, " positively for the last time of marrying," to take 
 place on Thursday, April 15, 18 .
 
 THE UNLUCKY PRESENT. 159 
 
 On the preceding Monday, the bridegroom elect (who was 
 to have received ,10,000 down on his wedding-day, and a 
 further sum of ,30,000 on his father-in-law's dying, as there 
 was hope he soon would) had some little jealous squabbling 
 with his intended at an evening party ; the " tiff " arose in 
 consequence of his paying more attention than was thought 
 justifiable to a young lady with sparkling eyes and inimitable 
 ringlets. The gentleman retorted, and spoke slightingly of a 
 certain cousin, whose waistcoat was the admiration of the as- 
 sembly, and which, it was hinted darkly, had been embroid- 
 ered by the fair hand of the heiress in question. He added, 
 in conclusion, that it would be time enough for him to be 
 schooled when they were married ; that (reader, pardon the 
 unavoidable expression !) she was "putting on the breeches " a 
 little too soon. 
 
 After supper, both the lovers had become more cool ; iced 
 champagne and cold chicken had done their work, and leave 
 was taken by the bridegroom in posse, in terms kindly and 
 affectionate, if not so enthusiastic as those which had previ- 
 ously terminated their meetings. 
 
 On the next morning, the swain thought with some remorse 
 on the angry feeling he had exhibited, and the cutting sarcasm 
 in which he had given it vent, and, as a part of his amende 
 honorable, packed up with great care a magnificent satin dress, 
 which he had previously bespoken for his beloved, and which 
 had been sent home to him in the interval, and transmitted it 
 to the lady, with a note to the following effect : 
 
 " DEAREST * * *, I have been unable to close my eyes 
 all night, in consequence of thinking on our foolish misunder- 
 standing last evening. Pray, pardon me ; and, in token of 
 your forgiveness, deign to accept the accompanying dress, and 
 wear it for the sake of your ever affectionate * * * " 
 
 Having written the note, he gave it to his shopman to de- 
 liver with the parcel ; but as a pair of his nether garments 
 happened, at the time, to stand in need of repairing, he availed 
 himself of the opportunity offered by his servant having to
 
 I6O RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 pass the tailor's shop, in his way to Bush Lane, and desired 
 him to leave them, packed in another parcel, on his road. 
 
 The reader foresees the inevitable contretemps. Yes, the 
 man made the fatal blunder ! consigned the satin robes to Mr. 
 Snip, and left the note, together with the dilapidated habili- 
 ment, at the residence of the lady. Her indignation, was 
 neither to be described nor appeased. So exasperated was 
 she, at what she considered a determined and deliberate 
 affront, that when her admirer called she ordered the door to 
 be closed in his face, refused to listen to any explanation, and 
 resolutely broke off the match. Before many weeks had 
 elapsed, means were found to make her acquainted with the 
 history of the objectionable present, but she, nevertheless, ad- 
 hered firmly to her resolve, deeply lamenting the misadvent- 
 ure, but determined not to let the burden of the ridicule rest 
 upon her. 
 
 ANECDOTES. 
 
 "Diary : July, 1842. The Bishop of London mentioned 
 that at the recent grand meeting at Cambridge, at which the 
 Duke of Cambridge attended, he (the Bishop) was appointed 
 to preach, and had no sooner commenced with ' Let us pray,' 
 than his Royal Highness rose up in the pew below, and ex- 
 claimed with great fervor, ' Certainly, by all means.' The 
 Duke used invariably to read aloud all the service, including 
 the Absolution ; and when the King of Prussia visited St. 
 Paul's, I saw him put that potentate out sadly by his over- 
 officiousness in finding the place for him in the prayer-book. 
 All had been properly marked, but his Royal Highness took 
 the volume from him, began turning it over, and finally left his 
 Majesty in much greater mystification than he found him. He 
 appears to be a really devout man, but is absent and flighty. 
 
 " Tate told us a story of Mr. Ottley, a great connoisseur in 
 paintings and articles of virtu, whom I once met at his house 
 now dead. Ottley, while at Rome, when all the treasures of 
 art were yet contained within its limits, and long before its 
 spoliation by the French, was much bothered by foolish peo- 
 ple, who inquired of him whether Raphael or Titian or Cor-
 
 FACETIAE. l6l 
 
 regio, etc., was the best painter, to whom he used to reply by a 
 story : 
 
 " There was an old woman, living at Naples, very devout, 
 who went to her confessor on a case of conscience. Her ob- 
 ject was to learn whether San Gennaro or the Virgin Mary 
 was the greater Saint. 
 
 " ' Why, daughter,' said the padre, ' that is a very nice ques- 
 tion, and perhaps it might puzzle the Holy Father himself to 
 decide upon it. However, for your comfort it may perhaps be 
 satisfactory to know that both of them were Apostles ! ' 
 
 " I mentioned that, examining one of the Sunday-school 
 boys at Addington, I asked him what a prophet was. He did 
 not know. 
 
 " ' If I were to tell you what would happen to you this day 
 twelve-month, and it should come to pass, what would you call 
 me then, my little man ? ' 
 
 " ' A fortune-teller, sir,' said the boy. 
 
 "There was an end of the examination for that day." 
 
 FACETIAE. 
 
 "Diary : May, 1843. Dinner of the Sons of the Clergy at 
 Merchant Tailors' Hall. The Archbishop, a nervous man 
 [Dr. Howley], by a ludicrous lapsus lingua gave as a toast, 
 instead of ' Prosperity to the Merchant Tailors' Company,' 
 ' Prosperity to the Merchant Company's Tailor ! ' 
 
 " Dr. Taylor read to me the following extract from a letter 
 just addressed to him by Archbishop Whately : ' O'Connell 
 has spoilt the dog. The story is of a traveller, who, finding 
 himself and his dog in a wild country and destitute of provis- 
 ions, cut off his dog's tail and boiled it for his own supper, 
 giving the " dog the bone." ' 
 
 "Abingdon, a gentleman of property, first an amateur and 
 afterwards a professional actor, and manager of the Southamp- 
 ton Theatre, told me that once, when he was playing Hamlet 
 there, Rosencrantz, who ought to say, 
 
 ' My lord, you once did love me,' 
 
 forgot his part and failed in giving the cue, till the prompter, 
 it
 
 1 62 KICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 seeing Hamlet could not go on for the want of it, stepped for- 
 ward and said 
 
 ' My lord, you once did love Ms gentleman /' 
 
 This enabled Abingdon to reply 
 
 1 And do still by these pickers and stealers.' 
 
 Like most good-natured people who do good-natured things, 
 the prompter got hissed by the audience for having kept the 
 stage so long in waiting. I was terribly abused by the mob 
 
 once for going to bury a corpse which my neighbor H had 
 
 forgotten, after it had been detained by his carelessness more 
 than an hour in the church-yard." 
 
 SYDNEY SMITH'S NOVEL. 
 
 "Diary: December 2, 1843. Dined at Charles Dickens's. 
 Present Sydney Smith, my wife, Serjeant Talfourd, Albany 
 
 Fonblanque, Miss Eley, Rev. Taggart, Mrs. Talfourd, 
 
 Maclise, Mr. Forster, Sam Rogers, etc. Sydney Smith gave 
 an account of Colburn's calling upon him with an introduction 
 from Bulwer. The bibliopole, he said, opened with a condo- 
 lence, delicately conveyed, on his recent losses in American 
 securities, and then proposed, by way of repairing them, the 
 production of a novel in three volumes, for which he should be 
 most happy to treat on liberal terms. 
 
 '"Well, sir,' said Mr. Smith, after some seeming considera- 
 tion, ' if I do so, I can't travel out of my own line ne sutor 
 ultra crepidam, you know I must have an archdeacon for 
 my hero, to fall in love with the pew-opener, with the clerk for 
 a confidant tyrannical interference of the church-wardens 
 clandestine correspondence concealed under the hassocks 
 appeal to the parishioners, etc., etc.' 
 
 " ' With that, sir,' said Mr. Colburn, ' I would not presume 
 to interfere ; I would leave it all entirely to your own inventive 
 genius.' 
 
 " ' Well, sir,' returned the canon, with urbanity, ' I am not 
 prepared to come to terms at present ; but if ever I do under- 
 take such a work, you shall certainly have the refusal.' "
 
 PARSON O'BEIRNE'S SERMON. 163 
 
 DUKE OF SUSSEX AND MR. OFFOR. 
 
 For some years during the latter portion of his life my 
 father devoted much of his leisure, not only to the prosecu- 
 tion of genealogical and antiquarian inquiries, to which he 
 had always been addicted, but also to the acquiring a knowl- 
 edge of the various editions of the Bible. His means were 
 not sufficiently ample to enable him to form a collection of the 
 rarer copies, but he made himself well acquainted with those 
 extant, and expended a great deal of time and industry, to the 
 severe injury of his eyesight, in preparing fac-similes of the re- 
 markable passages and wood-cuts by which the various trans- 
 lations are distinguished. In this pursuit he received consid- 
 erable assistance from Mr. George Offor, whose library was 
 especially rich in specimens of early typography. Of these 
 the choicest were very wisely kept behind a screen of brass- 
 work, securely locked, a circumstance which Mr. Offor used 
 to say immediately attracted the notice of the Duke of Sus- 
 sex, when his Royal Highness honored him with a visit. 
 
 " Ah ! I see," said the Duke, " you lock up your best books 
 very necessary, very proper no collector is to be trusted ; 
 they are all thieves, every one of them ! " 
 
 " I presume, sir," replied Mr. Offor, with a low bow, " I 
 might suggest an exception ? " 
 
 " You mean me ? Oh ! you 're quite mistaken I could n't 
 resist the temptation, if it came in my way, better than any 
 one else." 
 
 PARSON O'BEIRNE'S SERMON. 
 
 "Diary: May n, 1844. Dined at Sir Thomas Wilde's. 
 Among the company Sir John Hobhouse, Mr. and Lady 
 Anne Welby, Mr. Horsman, Tom Duncombe, etc. Hob- 
 house told a story of the Rev. commonly called ' Parson ' 
 O'Beirne, which he had from old Richard Brinsley Sheridan. 
 Sheridan had been dining with O'Beirne, and, it being Satur- 
 day, the host was anxious to bring the sitting to an earlier 
 termination than usual, as he had no sermon ready for next 
 day. Sheridan pleaded hard for another bottle.
 
 164 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 "'Then you must write a sermon for me,' was O'Beirne's 
 answer, which Sheridan at once undertook to do. There was 
 
 a certain Mr. , a neighboring squire, who was proverbial 
 
 for grinding the poor, and had recently prosecuted some of 
 the laborers in the parish for stealing turnips. Sheridan's 
 sermon, which, true to his word, he produced in the morning, 
 was a regular attack upon this gentleman. It was filled with 
 all sorts of pretended quotations from St. Paul and the Fa- 
 thers, sentences denouncing illiberality, tyranny, and oppres- 
 sion of the poor, some of them referring particularly to the 
 especial sinfulness of prosecutions for stealing turnips. Mr. 
 O'Beirne, who had no time to read over the composition be- 
 fore morning prayers, commenced his discourse and went on 
 with it till he fairly drove the indignant squire out of the 
 church. The latter, indeed, was so savage at the personal- 
 ities, that he made a formal complaint to the bishop of the 
 diocese. 
 
 " ' And how did the matter end ? ' asked Hobhouse. 
 
 " ' Oh, just as such a thing should end,' said Sheridan ; 
 ' O'Beirne got a better living ! ' "* 
 
 1 The Rev. Thomas Lewis O'Beirne, afterwards Bishop of Meath, is evidently 
 the person here referred to. A somewhat more probable version of the story is 
 given in Sluridaniana. It is there stated that Mr. O'Beirne, having arrived at 
 Sheridan's house, near Osterley, was requested to preach on the following Sunday, 
 but, having no sermon, accepted Sheridan's offer to provide one. Next morning Mr. 
 O'Beirne found the manuscript by his bedside, the subject of the discourse being the 
 " Abuse of Riches." Having read it over, and corrected some theological errors 
 (such as "it is easier for a camel," as Moses says, etc.), he delivered the sermon in 
 his most impressive style, much to the delight of his own party, and to the satisfac- 
 tion, as he unsuspectingly flattered himself, of all the rest of the congregation, among 
 
 whom was Mr. Sheridan's wealthy neighbor, Mr. C . Some months afterwards, 
 
 however, Mr. O'Beirne perceived that the family of Mr. C , with whom he h.id 
 
 been previously intimate, treated him with marked coldness, and, on his expressii g 
 some innocent wonder at the circumstance, was at length informed, to his dismay, 
 by General Burgoyne, that the sermon which Sheridan had written for him was 
 throughout a personal attack upon Mr. C , who had at that time rendered him- 
 self very unpopular in the neighborhood by some harsh conduct to the poor, and to 
 whom every one in the church, except the unconscious preacher, applied almost 
 every sentence of the sermon. Sheridaniana.
 
 A NOBLEMAN WHO WOULD SELL ANYTHING. 165 
 
 A NOBLEMAN WHO WOULD SELL ANYTHING. 
 
 " On our way to Dover Sir W. Betham told us a story of 
 
 Lord M , a gentleman who would sell anything, even the 
 
 commissions in the militia regiment he commanded, and when 
 it was objected to him replied that he did it ' to assimilate his 
 regiment as much as possible to the line, which was in general 
 orders.' A pew in a parish church near his family property 
 was supposed to belong to him, and the building having been 
 repaired, three old ladies were anxious to possess what it is 
 scarcely necessary to say was of little use to his lordship. 
 One of them waited on him at the barracks, and proposed 
 purchase. 
 
 " ' Oh, bother, Ma'am, divil a pew has my Lord M in 
 
 any such place.' 
 
 " ' Ah then and indeed it 's your lordship's own, and sure 
 everybody says so.' 
 
 " ' Everybody lies, sure but what is it, ma'am, ye '11 be 
 giving for the pew ? ' 
 
 " After a little hesitation and fencing, the lady offered to 
 give twenty pounds for the pew rather than suffer Mrs. Ma- 
 grath to take her place in it. 
 
 " ' Twenty pounds ! is it twenty pounds ! twenty pounds 
 rather than be bragged by Mrs. Magrath ! Sure it 's forty 
 pounds ye mane Oh, it 's a beautiful pew ! ' 
 
 " The old lady stood out for twenty, but his lordship was 
 firm, and at last she agreed to give the sum demanded rather 
 than be ' bragged ' by Molly Magrath. His lordship there- 
 fore made over his right and title to the pew in something like 
 
 the following words : ' Lord M agrees to sell to Mrs. 
 
 Bridget Maloney all his right and title, if he has any, to a pew 
 in the parish church of for value this day received.' 
 
 " The lady had scarcely retired when another was announced 
 on the same errand, who succeeded in making the same pur- 
 chase on rather reduced terms, as eventually did also a third. 
 On the following Sunday the case of title was of course warmly 
 gone into, all the three parties claiming possession. After some
 
 1 66 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 pains had been taken in the inquiry, the dispute was decided 
 in favor of a fourth claimant, whose uncle had bought the pew 
 
 years before of Lord M 's father. This decision brought 
 
 all the three purchasers back to the barracks in the hope of 
 getting their money again, but ' any restitution ' formed no 
 part of Lord M 's politics. 
 
 " ' Sure he had sold them the pew if he had got one, and if 
 he had not how could he help it ! ' 
 
 " ' But you must give us our money back, my lord, anyhow.' 
 
 " ' Aisy, aisy ! how will I do that, I 'd be proud to know, 
 when it 's all spent and gone every farthing of it ? ' 
 
 " ' But if you don't we shall tell everybody, and then what 
 becomes of my Lord M 's character ? ' 
 
 " ' Oh, tell away and welcome ; the character 's spent and 
 gone too, and long before, for the matter of that.' And so 
 the matter terminated." 
 
 SCRAPS. 
 
 "No date. Dined at the Adolphuses : met there a Mr. or 
 Doctor Vicesimus Knox, who talked away famously and was 
 
 very funny. Told us of a story of a Mr. , and how he 
 
 thought the word ' clause ' of an Act of Parliament was the 
 plural number, and asked him, the said Vicesimus, which claw 
 of the Act he was speaking of. 
 
 " Chief Justice Bushe was dining with the late Duke of 
 Richmond, when Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, at Sir Wheeler 
 Cuff's. On their entertainer getting drunk and falling from 
 his chair, the Duke good-naturedly endeavored to lift him up, 
 when Bushe exclaimed, ' How, your Grace ! you, an Orange- 
 man and a Protestant, assist in elevating the host ! ' Told to 
 me by Dr. Hume." 
 
 " Serjeant Murphy observing part of the Bench (including 
 Sir C. Williams) leaving the court early, while two only re- 
 mained to finish the causes, said, loud enough to be heard by 
 all present, ' As a papist, I am not of course permitted to know 
 much of Scripture, or I should say, there is on one side Ex- 
 odus and on the other Judges."
 
 SCRAPS. 167 
 
 " When a certain Mr. , of the Temple, was expelled 
 
 from that Society by the Benchers for conduct unbecoming a 
 gentleman, Thesiger, who is a very kind-hearted man, was 
 much affected by the situation of his wife and children, who 
 would necessarily be ruined by the decision, and burst into 
 tears. 
 
 " ' Well,' said he afterwards to Rose, who was then Judge 
 of the Court of Review, ' I should never do for a Criminal 
 Judge, and after the way in which I have exposed my weak- 
 ness to-day, you will agree with me.' 
 
 4< ' Why, yes,' said Rose, ' I think you would make an in- 
 different Judge, but then, you know, you would make an un- 
 commonly good Cryer.' " 
 
 " Sydney Smith, speaking of his being shampooed at Ma- 
 homet's Baths at Brighton in 1840, said they 'squeezed 
 enough out of him to make a lean curate.' " 
 
 " Hearing Shutte's little girl give vent to a prolonged ' Oh ! ' 
 at the sight of a dahlia, he (Sydney Smith) said ' it was worth 
 a page of eulogy.' " 
 
 "In Brazil, an opinion prevails that whoever has been bitten 
 by a boa-constrictor has nothing to fear from any other snake. 
 What a happy illustration of a man who has undergone a 
 blackguarding from O'Connell ! " 
 
 The following was an early hoax upon a Canterbury paper, 
 and was freely copied by the provincial press : 
 
 " fact for the Naturalist. A terrier dog in Romney 
 Marsh, having been desperately maltreated and bitten by a 
 savage mastiff, ran off nine miles to the house of Mr. Strick- 
 land, a justice of the peace, where he had often before been 
 with his master, who was a parish constable ; he got into the 
 library, jumped upon Mr. Strickland's table, seized a blank as- 
 sault warrant in his jaws, and bolted with it ; he then ran back 
 to his master with the instrument in his mouth, and wagging 
 his tail, did all in his power to induce the latter to follow him 
 and take his assailant into custody. It cannot, however, fail 
 to be remarked, how the omission to obtain a signature to the 
 paper serves to confirm the fact, that the sagacity of the most
 
 l68 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 intelligent brute never passes that mysterious line which in- 
 variably separates instinct from reason." 
 
 ' Judge Afaule. A young barrister pleading before Judge 
 Maule, described an attorney's bill as ' a diabolical one.' 
 ' That may be,' said the Judge, ' but the devil must have his 
 due. Gentlemen of the jury, you will find for the plaintiff.' " 
 
 Seeing Richard Price at the Garrick with half a pint of port, 
 he accused him of studying " Winer's abridgment." 
 
 " When George IV. was at Lord Lothian's during his visit 
 to Scotland, the youngest scion of the family was a little im- 
 pudent, spoiled boy in petticoats, who had got a way of calling 
 everybody ' you old fat goose.' The King inquiring as to the 
 number of her ladyship's children, was informed of course, 
 and also of course desired to see them all. This little urchin, 
 therefore, whom they had intended to keep out of f he way, was 
 perforce exhibited, when his father seeing the twinkle in his 
 eye and the curl of his lip which betokened the forthcoming 
 expression, caught him up in his arms, while the mother sat in 
 agony, and bore him out of the room just in time to prevent 
 the explosion." 
 
 " Ensign White of the Forty-fourth, the regiment that was 
 so cut up in India, told me that on the march to Scinde, they 
 used to encourage private theatricals among the soldiers to 
 keep them out of mischief. On one occasion, when Richard 
 III. was the play, the Catesby of the evening (a worthy and 
 gallant corporal) thus addressed his sovereign : 
 
 " ' 'T is I, my lord, the early village cock 
 Has been crowing away this half hour, 
 Your friends are up and buckle on their armor 
 And why ain't you a buckling on o* yourn?' " 
 
 A FRENCHMAN'S CRITICISM. 
 
 " Wallaces account of French criticism. When in Amer- 
 ica, Mr. Wallack became associated with a French actor, 
 a great admirer of Shakespeare, but who wished to become 
 more familiarized with his beauties. Wallack being an in- 
 different French scholar, it was agreed that instruction should
 
 MACREADY IN AMERICA. 169 
 
 be mutual ; that the Frenchman should give lessons in his 
 own language, which Wallack should return by lending his 
 assistance towards producing a more perfect understanding, 
 on the part of his tutor, of the bard who ' was not for an age 
 but for all time.' 
 
 " ' Ah ! mafoi, dat is eet, Racine is good, Corneille is good, 
 but Mons. Shakespeare he is de bard of all time, of nature, 
 of what you call common sense so everybody say.' 
 
 " Wallack proposed, by way of commencement, that his new 
 friend, who knew enough of English to read, though not to 
 relish his author, should go over attentively and make him- 
 self master of the text of a play, which his preceptor should 
 afterwards read over again with him, explaining difficulties 
 and expounding beauties. ' Macbeth ' was selected, but they 
 did not get beyond the first scene. 
 
 " ' Mons. Vallake, you have told me dat Shakespeare is de 
 poet of nature and common sense ; good ! now vat is dis ? 
 Here is his play open Macbess yes ! good, very good 
 well, here is tree old old vat you call veetch, vid de broom 
 and no close on at all yes! upon the blasted heath 
 good ! von veetch say to de oder veetch, ' ven shall ve tree 
 meet agen ? ' De other veetch she say " in tondare ! " de 
 other she say ''in lightning ! " and she say to dem herself 
 again " in rain ! " Eh bien ! now dis is not nature ! dis is not 
 common sense ! Oh, no ! De tree old veetch shall nevare go 
 out to meet again upon de blasted heath with no close on in 
 tondare, lightning, and in rain. Ah no ! It is not common 
 sense ! mafoi, dey stay at home ! aha ! ' 
 
 " Of course there was no possibility of proceeding with 
 such a critic, and the arrangement ceased." 
 
 MACREADY IN AMERICA. 
 
 "Diary: December 5, 1844. Dined with Charles Dickens, 
 Stanfield, Maclise, and Albany Fonblanque at Forster's. 
 Dickens read with remarkable effect his Christmas story, 'The 
 Chimes,' from the proofs. Anecdote told of Macready at New 
 Orleans looking at a paper in the reading-room, when a stranger
 
 1 70 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 put his arm across his (Macready's) neck, and, leaning on his 
 shoulder, asked if he knew Colonel Johnson ? 
 
 " Macready, shrinking from the familiarity, replied coldly 
 enough, ' No, sir, I do not.' 
 
 " ' Well I guess now he 'd like to know you.' 
 
 " ' Possibly, sir.' 
 
 " ' Well now, Colonel Johnson, walk this way ; I calculate 
 this is Mr. Macready, the British actor.' 
 
 " ' And pray who are you, sir ? ' demanded Macready. 
 
 "'Me? Oh, I guess I'm Major Hitchins, I am. What, 
 you 're ryled a leetle grain, are you ? You '11 have to get over 
 that if you mean to progress in this great country, sir.' Free 
 and enlightened society this, at any rate ! " 
 
 BARHAM'S SURGEON. 
 
 " And now as to our state here, it is mended, and I would 
 fain hope mending, but very, very slowly. I am still not al- 
 lowed nor if I were could I avail myself of the permission 
 to answer, except in a whisper, and that only to ask for 
 what I want, and answer medical inquiries. Luckily I have 
 assigned to me one of the greatest chatterboxes of a surgeon, 
 to take the poking and blistering department of my treatment 
 upon him, that can well be imagined. If in the multitude of 
 counselors there be wisdom, in that of apothecaries there is 
 jaw, and with such a one as my adviser possesses, Samson 
 might have laid waste all Mesopotamia, let alone Philistia. 
 He has the art of saying nothing in a cascade of language 
 comparable only to that ' almighty water privilege,' Niagara, 
 and were I in better spirits would delight instead of boring me. 
 Gait's ' wearif u' woman ' was but a type of him. 
 
 " ' Well, sir, how are we to day better, eh ! well, sir, go on 
 with the iodine ? does it act ? ' 
 
 " Why that is what I wanted to ask, how do you mean it to 
 act ? as a sudorific ? ' 
 
 " ' Diaphoretic we say, not but sudorific will do ; it comes 
 from siH/n. but we seldom now say sudorific ; but, sir, the iodine, 
 does it act ? '
 
 BARHAM'S SURGEON. \Jl 
 
 " ' That is what I want to know ; how do you mean it to act, 
 on the throat or ' 
 
 " ' Act ? iodine ? on the throat ? why the throat, sir, is very 
 singularly constructed very singularly; it's beautiful, the 
 mechanism of the throat ! If it gets out of order now yours, 
 sir, is out of order, and we have been giving you iodine for 
 
 Mr. agrees with me that iodine is an excellent medicine, 
 
 and what I want to know is, does it begin to produce any effect ? " 
 
 " ' Why that is what I want to know, and therefore I ask 
 what effect is it intended to produce, is it to act on ' 
 
 " ' What effect ? my dear sir, there are few medicines now in 
 better repute than iodine ; we give it in many cases dropsy, 
 sometimes not that yours is dropsy ; you have nothing 
 dropsical about you ; your complaint is an affection of the 
 throat, and we have been giving iodine in your case you 
 have had it now three days twice a day. Do you take it reg- 
 ularly twice a day ? ' 
 
 " ' I take what you send me twice a day, and you tell me it 
 is iodine, but' 
 
 " ' And does it begin to produce its effect ; does it act ? ' 
 
 " ' Why that 's what I 'm asking you now is it intended to 
 act as a sedative, or' 
 
 " ' A sedative ? what, is your cough more troublesome ? We 
 give sedatives sometimes for troublesome coughs, and then 
 in nervous complaints, but then congestion is a thing to be 
 avoided, not that I see any symptoms of congestion in your case ; 
 yours is an affection of the throat, and so we give you iodine, 
 and as we are a little particular in proportioning our doses, 
 I want to ascertain whether what you have been taking acts ? ' 
 
 "Oh dear, oh dear ! never were two philosophers more deeply 
 engaged in pursuing the same inquiry, each endeavoring to ex- 
 tract information out of the other. And then such lectures on 
 the ' anatomy of the parts,' ' the beautiful mechanism, etc.' ! 
 that I, who never yet could comprehend the mechanism of a 
 mousetrap, and hardly that of a poacher's wire, am just in the 
 position of a blind man listening to a discourse on colors, and 
 yet in the end completely worked up into a something derived
 
 172 RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM. 
 
 from sudo. Heaven knows I am at this moment as innocent 
 of any knowledge of the mode of operation of ' iodine ' as a 
 'blessed babe,' though taking 'two tablespoonfuls a day ' with 
 this tea-spoonful of learning, and only hope for your sake, as 
 well as my own reputation for good manners, that it is in no un- 
 seemly one." 
 
 THE BULLETIN. 
 
 9 DOWRY SQUARE, HOT WELLS, May 29, i?45- 
 
 Hark ! the doctors come again, 
 Knock and enter doctors twain 
 Dr. Keeler, Dr. Blane : 
 " Well, sir, how 
 
 Go matters now ? 
 
 Please your tongue put out again ! " 
 Meanwhile, t' other side the bed, 
 
 Doctor Keeler 
 
 Is a feeler 
 
 Of my wrist, and shakes his head : 
 " Rather low, we're rather low! " 
 (Deuce is in 't, an' 't were not so 1 
 Arrowroot, and toast-and-water, 
 Being all my nursing daughter, 
 By their order, now allows me ; 
 If I hint at more she rows me, 
 Or at best will let me soak a 
 Crust of bread in tapioca.) 
 " Cool and moist though, let me see 
 Seventy-two, or seventy-three, 
 Seventy-four, perhaps, or so ; 
 Rather low, we re rather low ! 
 Now, what sort of night, sir, eh ? 
 Did you take the mixture, pray ? 
 
 Iodine and anodyne, 
 
 Ipecacuanha wine, 
 And the draught and pills at nine ? " 
 
 PATIENT (loquitur). 
 " Coughing, doctor, coughing, sneezing, 
 Wheezing, teasing, most unpleasing. 
 Till at length I , by degrees, in- . 
 
 Duced ' Tired nature's sweet restorer,' 
 Sleep, to caM her mantle o'er her 
 Poor unfortunate adorer, 
 And became at last a snorer. 
 
 Iodine and anodyne, 
 
 Ipecacuanha wine,
 
 THE BULLETIN. 173 
 
 Nor the draughts did I decline ; 
 But those horrid pills at nine ! 
 Those I did not try to swallow, 
 Doctor, they 'd have beat me hollow. 
 
 I as soon 
 
 Could gulp the moon, 
 Or the great Nassau balloon, 
 Or a ball for horse or hound, or 
 Bullet for an eighteen-pounder. " 
 
 DOCTOR K. 
 
 " Well, sir well, sir we '11 arrange it, 
 If you can't take pills, we ; 11 change it ; 
 
 Take, we '11 say, 
 
 A powder gray, 
 All the same to us which way ; 
 
 Each will do ; 
 
 But, sir, you 
 
 Must perspire whate'er you do, 
 (Sudorific comes from sudo /) 
 Very odd, sir, how our wills 
 Interfere with taking pills! 
 I 've a patient, sir, a lady 
 Whom I 've told you of already, 
 
 She '11 take potions, 
 
 She'll take lotions, 
 
 She '11 take drugs, and draughts by oceans ; 
 She'll take rhubarb, senna, rue ; 
 She '11 take powders gray and blue, 
 Tinctures, mixtures, linctures, squills, 
 But, sir, she will not take pills ! 
 Now the throat, sir, how 's the throat ? " 
 
 PATIENT. 
 
 " Why, I can 't produce a note ! 
 
 I can't sound one word, I think, whole, 
 
 But they hobble, 
 
 And they gobble, 
 
 Just like soapsuds down a sink-hole, 
 Or I whisper like the breeze, 
 Softly sighing through the trees ! " 
 
 DOCTOR. 
 
 " Well, sir well, sir never mind, sir, 
 We'll put all to rights, you'll find, sir: 
 Make no speeches, 
 Get some leeches ; 
 You '11 find twenty 
 Will be plenty,
 
 174 RICHARD HARRIS BAR HAM. 
 
 Clap them on, and let them lie 
 
 On \\\c pomum Adatni; 
 
 Let them well the trachea drain, 
 
 And your larynx, 
 
 And your pharynx 
 Please put out your tongue again 1 
 
 Now the blister! 
 
 Aye, the blister 1 
 Let your son, or else his sister, 
 Warm it well, then clap it here, sir, 
 All across from ear to ear, sir ; 
 
 That suffices, 
 
 When it rises, 
 
 Snip it, sir, and then your throat on 
 Rub a little oil of Croton : 
 Never mind a little pain ! 
 Please put out your tongue again I 
 Now, sir, I must down your maw stick 
 This small sponge of lunar caustic, 
 
 Never mind, sir, 
 
 You'll not find, sir, 
 I, the sponge shall leave behind, sir, 
 Or my probang make you sick, sir, 
 I shall draw it back so quick, sir; 
 This I call my prime elixir 1 
 
 How, sir ! choking ? 
 
 Pooh! you 're joking 
 Bless me! this is quite provoking! 
 What can mak{ you, sir, so wheezy? 
 Stay, sir ! gently ! take it easy ! 
 
 There, sir, that will do to-day. 
 
 Sir, I think that we may say 
 
 We are better, doctor, eh ? 
 Don't you think so, Doctor Blane ? 
 Please put out your tongue again I 
 
 Iodine and anodyne, 
 
 Ipecacuanha wine, 
 And since you the pills decline, 
 Draught and powder gray at nine. 
 There, sir! there, sir! now good-day, 
 I 've a lady 'cross the way, 
 I must see without delay I " [K.rfunt Doctor*. 
 
 TO THE GARRICK CLUB. 
 
 Ye shepherds give ear to my lay, 
 
 Who have nothing to do about sheep, 
 While, as Shenstone, the poet, would say, 
 
 I have nothing to do but to weep.
 
 TO THE GARRICK CLUB. 175 
 
 For here I sit all the day long, 
 
 And must do so, I dare say, all June, 
 While so far from singing a song, 
 
 I can't even whistle a tune. 
 
 For the probang, the blister, and leech, 
 
 So completely my notes have o'erthrown, 
 When I try the sweet music of speech, 
 
 I start at the sound of my own. 
 
 It's useless attempting to speak, 
 
 For my voice is beyond my control ; 
 If high, it's an ear-piercing squeak, 
 
 If low, it 's a grunt or a growl ! 
 
 Can Clifton those beauties assume, 
 
 Which patients have found in her face, 
 When shut up all day in a room, 
 
 One can't get a peep at the place ? 
 
 Ye Garrickers, making your sport, 
 
 As ye revel in gossip and grub, 
 Oh ! send some endearing report 
 
 Of how matters go on at the Club. 
 
 When I think on the rapid mail train, 
 
 In a moment I seem to be there, 
 But the sight of N. E. on the vane 
 
 Soon hurries me back to despair. 
 
 The Committee, oh, say do they send 
 
 A blessing or ban after me ? 
 Mr. Gwilt, does he duly attend 
 
 To his salad and little roti? 
 
 Davy Roberts, that glorious R. A., 
 
 Does he still smoke his hookha in peace/ 
 Is Millingen there every day? 
 
 Is Mills a trustee to the lease ? 
 
 Does the claret suit Thornton ? and how 
 
 Does Lord Tenterden like the cigars ? 
 Has any one yet in a row 
 
 Kicked impudent down-stairs ? 
 
 For methought that a sweet little bird 
 
 In my ear of its likelihood sung, 
 And I loved it the more when I heard 
 
 Such tenderness fall from its tongue. 
 
 Oh, say is the story a hoax, 
 Or one to be classed nmons: fibs.
 
 176 K 1C HARD HARRIS BAKU AM. 
 
 . That Murphy 's upset with his jokes 
 
 Colonel Sibthorpe, and broken his ribs ? 
 
 Has Durant got rid of his cough ? 
 
 Are Sav'ry's rheumatics quite gone ? 
 And how do the dinners go off, 
 
 And how does the ballot go on ? 
 
 Does Stanhope's good humor endure ? 
 
 What are White and Sir Henry about / 
 Is Talfourd gone up to his tour, 
 
 Or Arden gone down to his trout ? 
 
 Does the Cook keep his character still ? 
 
 Has the Fishmonger been in disgrace 
 For, in lieu of a turbot or brill, 
 
 Substituting a horrible plaice ? 
 
 Does Calcraft, who saved us from blazing, 
 
 Still watch o'er our int'rests at night ? 
 Does Ovey still drive up his chaise in ? 
 
 Is Rainy as ever polite ? 
 
 Charles Kcmble, his nose is it aching 
 
 As yet from his fall, or got well ? 
 Has Harley decided on making 
 
 Miss a church-going belle ? 
 
 Is Titmarsh on anything clever, 
 
 Or bent on returning to France ? 
 Is I'lanclie as bustling as ever, 
 
 Avowedly going to Dance ? ' 
 
 Say where but ah me ! wherefore ask 
 
 When there 's none to reply or to care, 
 And Echo herself scorns the task 
 
 Of answering gloomily " Where ? " 
 
 But Fladgate will write, or George Raymond, 
 
 His muse will not surely decline 
 For one moment to turn from the gay /<></<, 
 
 And sympathize sadly with mine. 
 
 Perhaps you '11 consider it silly 
 
 To end with a rascally pun, 
 But as I have thus done my billet, 
 
 Oh, send me back one HI! ft doitt ." 
 
 1 Mescrt. Planchl and Dance, the Beaumont and Fletcher of burlesque. 
 1 Query? An allusion to Mr. William more commonly called Billy Dunn, 
 Treasurer of Drury Lane Tlieatre.
 
 WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 12
 
 WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 LORD BYRON. 
 
 |OON after his father's return to England, William 
 Harness was sent to Harrow, where he was placed 
 under the care of the celebrated Dr. Bland. On his 
 entering the school, he became acquainted with 
 Lord Byron in a manner which was certainly most creditable 
 to the latter. It will be best to give Mr. Harness's own ac- 
 count of this circumstance : 
 
 " My acquaintance with Lord Byron began very early in 
 life, on my first going to school at Harrow. I was then just 
 twelve years old. I was lame from an early accident, and pale 
 and thin in consequence of a severe fever, from which, though 
 perfectly recovered in other respects, I still continued weak. 
 This dilapidated condition of mine perhaps my lameness 
 more than anything else seems to have touched Byron's 
 sympathies. He saw me a stranger in a crowd ; the very per- 
 son likely to tempt the oppression of a bully, as I was utterly 
 incapable of resisting it ; and, in all the kindness of his gen- 
 erous nature, he took me under his charge. The first words he 
 ever spoke to me, as far as I can recollect them, were, ' If any 
 tellow bullies you, tell me ; and I '11 thrash him if I can.' His 
 protection was not long needed ; I was soon strong again, and 
 able to maintain my own ; but, as long as his help was wanted, 
 he never failed to render it. In this manner our friendship 
 began when we were both boys, he the elder of the two ; and 
 it continued, without the slightest interruption, till he left 
 Harrow for Cambridge.
 
 180 WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 " After this there was a temporary cessation of intercourse. 
 We wrote to each other on his first leaving school ; but the 
 letters, as is wont to be the case, became gradually less and 
 less communicative and frequent, till they eventually ceased al- 
 together. The correspondence seemed to have come to a con- 
 clusion by common consent, till an unexpected occasion of its 
 renewal occurred on the appearance of his first collection of 
 poems, the ' Hours of Idleness.' l This volume contained an 
 early essay of his satirical powers against the head-master of 
 his late school ; and very soon after its publication I received 
 a letter from Byron short, cold, and cutting reproaching 
 me with a breach of friendship, because I had, as he was in- 
 formed, traduced his poetry in an English exercise, for the 
 sake of conciliating the favor of Dr. Butler. The only answer 
 I returned to the letter was to send him the rough copy of my 
 theme. It was on the Evils of Idleness. After a world of 
 puerilities and commonplaces, it concluded by warning man- 
 kind in general, and the boys of Harrow in particular, if they 
 would avoid the vice and its evils, to cultivate some accom- 
 plishment, that each might have an occupation' of interest to 
 engage his leisure, and be able to spend his ' Hours of Idle- 
 ness ' as profitably as our late popular school-fellow. The 
 return of post brought me a letter from Byron, begging par- 
 don for the unworthiness he had attributed to me, and ac- 
 knowledging that he had been misinformed. Thus our cor- 
 respondence was renewed : and it was never again interrupted 
 till after his separation from Lady Byron and final departure 
 from his country." 
 
 1 The critiques on which called forth Kngliik Bardt and Scotch Revitwert. 
 Byron seems always to have had an unfortunate and irresistible love of satire. Mr. 
 Dyce (in Rogers'* TabU Talk) makes the following reference : " At the house of the 
 Rev- W. Harness, I remember hearing Moore remark that he thought the natural 
 bent of Byron's genius was to satirical and burlesque poetry. On this Mr. Harness 
 observed : ' When Byron was at Harrow, he one day, seeing a young acquaintance 
 at a short distance who was a violent admirer of Bonaparte, roared out : 
 ' Bold Robert Speer was Bony's bad precursor, 
 
 Bob was a bloody dog, but Bonaparte a worsen* 
 
 Moore immediately wrote the line* clown with the intention of inserting them in liis 
 Lift of Byron which he wa* then preparing ; but they do not appear in it."
 
 LORD BYRON. l8l 
 
 Lord Byron thus refers to their early acquaintance at 
 school : " I was then just fourteen. You were almost the 
 first of my Harrow friends certainly the first in my esteem, 
 if not in date .... How well I recollect the present of your 
 first flights ! There is another circumstance you do not know ; 
 the first lines I ever attempted at Harrow were addressed to 
 you." 
 
 Such was the commencement of this remarkable friendship. 
 The two boys must have been very dissimilar in disposition as 
 they became such different men. Byron alludes to their dif- 
 ference in conduct when at school ; but their characters were 
 not then formed. Moreover, they had several bonds of sym- 
 pathy ; both were fond of poetry and romance ; both had warm 
 and affectionate dispositions ; both were devoted to study ;. 
 and both were lame. When William Harness was little 
 more than an infant, he was playing with and clinging about 
 some curious carving on the posts of an old oaken bedstead 
 which were tied together and lying against the wall. By some 
 unfortunate movement he caused the heavy mass to fall ; it 
 came down with crashing weight upon his foot. He never 
 entirely recovered tffis accident, and he always felt a slight 
 pain in walking ; but such was his spirit and perseverance that 
 in after-life he became a good pedestrian. 
 
 After the explanation to which Mr. Harness alludes, and 
 Byron's letter of apology, they again became friends. " Our 
 intercourse 1 ," writes Mr. Harness, " was renewed and con- 
 tinued from that time till his going abroad. Whatever faults 
 Lord Byron might have had towards others, to myself he was 
 always uniformly affectionate. I have many slights and neg- 
 lects towards him to reproach myself with ; but, on his part, I 
 cannot call to mind, during the whole course of our intimacy, 
 a single instance of caprice or unkindness. 
 
 Before leaving England for Greece, in 1809, Byron made a 
 most gratifying request of his friend : 
 
 " I am going abroad, if possible, in the spring, and before I 
 depart I am collecting the pictures of my most intimate school- 
 fellows. I have already a few, and shall want yours, or my
 
 1 82 WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 cabinet will be incomplete. I have employed one of the best 
 miniature painters of the day to take them of course at my 
 own expense, as I never allow my acquaintances to incur the 
 least expenditure to gratify a whim of mine. To mention this 
 may seem indelicate ; but when I tell you a friend of ours first 
 refused to sit, under the idea that he was to disburse on the 
 occasion, you will see that it is necessary to state these pre- 
 liminaries to prevent the recurrence of any similar mistake. I 
 shall see you in time, and will carry you to the limner. It will 
 be a tax on your patience for a week, but pray excuse it, as it 
 is possible the resemblance may be the sole trace I shall be 
 able to preserve of our past friendship and present acquaint- 
 ance. Just now it seems foolish enough ; but in a few years, 
 when some of us are dead, and others are separated by inevit- 
 able circumstances, it will be a kind of satisfaction to retain, in 
 these images of the living, the idea of our former selves, and 
 to contemplate, in the resemblance of the dead, all that re- 
 mains of judgment, feeling, and a host of passions. 
 
 " But all this will be dull enough for you, and so good-night ; 
 and to end my chapter, or rather my homily, 
 
 " Believe irtf, 
 
 " My dear Harness, 
 
 " Yours most affectionately, 
 
 " BYRON." 
 
 After Byron's return from Greece, we find the following 
 proof of his faithful remembrance in one of his letters to his 
 friend : " I have not changed in all my ramblings : Harrow, 
 and of course yourself, never left me, and the . 
 
 ' Dulces reminisciter Argos ' 
 
 attended me to the very spot to which that sentence alludes in 
 the mind of the fallen Argive. Our intimacy commenced be- 
 fore we began to date at all, and it rests with you to continue 
 it till the hour which must number it and me with the things 
 that were." 
 
 Shortly before Mr. Harness took his degree, he received an 
 invitation to Newstead ; and his stay there must have been
 
 LORD BYRON. 183 
 
 one of unusual interest and pleasure ; this is the account 
 which he gives of his visit. 
 
 " When Byron returned, with the MS. of the first two cantos 
 of ' Childe Harold ' in his portmanteau, I paid him a visit at 
 Newstead. It was winter dark, dreary weather the snow 
 upon the ground ; and a straggling, gloomy, depressing, par- 
 tially-inhabited place the Abbey was. Those rooms, however, 
 which had been fitted up for residence were so comfortably 
 appointed, glowing with crimson hangings, and cheerful with 
 capacious fires, that one soon lost the melancholy feeling of 
 being domiciled in the wing of an extensive ruin. Many tales 
 are related or fabled of the orgies which, in the Poet's early 
 youth, had made clamorous these ancient halls of the Byrons. 
 I can only say that nothing in the shape of riot or excess oc- 
 curred when I was there. The only other visitor was Dr. 
 Hodgson, the translator of Juvenal, 1 and nothing could be 
 more quiet and regular than the course of our days. Byron 
 was retouching, as the sheets passed through the press, the 
 stanzas of ' Childe Harold.' Hogdson was at work in getting 
 out the ensuing number of the ' Monthly Review,' of which he 
 was principal editor. I was reading for my degree. When 
 we met, our general talk was of poets and poetry of who 
 could or who could not write ; but it occasionally rose into very 
 serious discussions on religion. Byron, from his early educa- 
 tion in Scotland, had been taught to identify the principles of 
 Christianity with the extreme dogmas of Calvinism. His mind 
 had thus imbibed a most miserable prejudice, which appeared 
 to be the only obstacle to his hearty acceptance of the Gospel. 
 Of this error we were most anxious to disabuse him. The 
 chief weight of the argument rested with Hodgson, who was 
 older, a good deal, than myself. I cannot even now at a 
 distance of more than fifty years recall those conversations 
 without a deep feeling of admiration for the judicious zeal and 
 affectionate earnestness (often speaking with tears in his eyes) 
 which Dr. Hodgson evinced in his advocacy of the truth. The 
 only difference, except perhaps in the subjects talked about, 
 
 1 Afterwards Provost of Eton.
 
 1 84 WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 between our life at Newstead Abbey and that of the quiet 
 country families around us, was the hours we kept. It was, as 
 I have said, winter, and the days were cold ; and, as nothing 
 tempted us to rise early, we got up late. This flung the routine 
 of the day rather backward, and we did not go early to bed. 
 My visit to Newstead lasted about three weeks, when I re- 
 turned to Cambridge to take my degree." 
 
 Mr. Harness's friendly intercourse with Lord Byron was 
 not interrupted, though carried on under some disadvantages. 
 The poet was prevented from dedicating " Childe Harold " to- 
 him, "for fear It should injure him in his profession." And it 
 is evident that in some of his letters Mr. Harness reproved 
 him for his thoughtlessness and dissipation. 
 
 "You censure my life, Harness," Byron writes in reply. 
 " When I compare myself with these men, my elders and my 
 betters, I really begin to conceive myself a monument of pru- 
 dence a walking statue without feeling or failing ; and 
 yet the world in general hath given me a proud preeminence 
 over them in profligacy ! " 
 
 " From this time," writes Mr. Harness, " our paths lay much 
 asunder. Byron returned to London. His poem was pub- 
 lished. The success was instantaneous ; and he ' awoke one 
 morning and found himself famous.' I was in orders, and 
 living an almost solitary life in a country curacy ; but we kept 
 up a rather rapid interchange of letters. He sent me his 
 poems as they now appeared in rather quick succession ; and 
 during my few weeks' holidays in London we saw one another 
 very often of a morning at each other's rooms, and not unfre- 
 quently again in society of an evening. So far, and for these 
 few years, all that I saw or heard of his career was bright and 
 prosperous : kindness and poetry at home, smiles and adula- 
 tion abroad. But then came his marriage ; and then the rup- 
 ture with his wife ; and then his final departure from England. 
 He became a victim of that revolution of popular feeling which 
 is ever incident to the spoilt children of society, when envy 
 and malice obtain a temporary ascendency, and succeed in 
 knocking down and trampling any idol of the day beneath
 
 LORD BYRON. 1 85 
 
 their feet, who may be wanting in the moral courage required 
 to face and out-brave them. 
 
 " Such was not the spirit that animated Byron. He could 
 not bear to look on the altered countenances of his acquaint- 
 ances. To his susceptible temperament and generous feel- 
 ings, the reproach of having ill-used a woman must have been 
 poignant in the extreme. It was repulsive to his chivalrous 
 character as a gentleman ; it belied all he had written of the 
 devoted fervor of his attachments ; and rather than meet the 
 frowns and sneers which awaited him in the world, as many a 
 less sensitive man might have done, he turned his back on 
 them and fled. He would have drawn himself up, and crossed 
 his arms and curled his lip, and looked disdainfully on any 
 amount of clamorous hostility ; but he stole away from the 
 ignominy of being silently cut. His whole course of conduct, 
 at this crisis of his life, was an inconsiderate mistake. He 
 should have remained to learn what the accusations against 
 him really were ; to expose the exaggerations, if not the false- 
 hoods, of the grounds they rested on ; or, at all events, to 
 have quietly abided the time when the London world should 
 have become wearied of repeating its vapid scandals, and re- 
 turned to its senses respecting him. That change of feeling 
 did come and not long after his departure from England 
 but he was at a distance, and could not be persuaded to return 
 to take advantage of it. 
 
 " Of the matrimonial quarrel I personally know nothing ; nor 
 with the exception of Dr. Lushington, do I believe that there 
 is anybody living who has any certain knowledge about the 
 matter. The marriage was never one of reasonable promise. 
 The bridegroom and the bride were ill-assorted. They were 
 two only children, and two spoilt children. I was acquainted 
 with Lady Byron as Miss Milbanke. The parties of Lady Mil- 
 banke, her mother, were frequent and agreeable, and com- 
 posed of that mixture of fashion, literature, science, and art, 
 than which there is no better society. The daughter was not 
 without a certain amount of prettiness or cleverness ; but her 
 manner was stiff and formal, and gave one the idea of her
 
 1 86 WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 being self-willed and self-opinionated. She was almost the 
 only young, pretty, well-dressed girl we ever saw who carried 
 no cheerfulness along with her. I seem to see her now, mov- 
 ing slowly along her mother's drawing-rooms, talking to scien- 
 tific men and literary women, without a tone of emotion in her 
 voice or the faintest glimpse of a smile upon her countenance. 
 A lady who had been on intimate terms with her from their 
 mutual childhood once said to me, ' If Lady Byron has a 
 heart, it is deeper seated and harder to get at than anybody 
 else's heart whom I have ever known.' And though several 
 of my friends whose regard it was no slight honor to have 
 gained as Mrs. Siddons, Joanna Baillie, Maria Edgeworth, 
 and others of less account, were never heard to speak of 
 Lady Byron except in terms of admiration and attachment, it 
 is certain that the impression which she produced on the 
 majority of her acquaintance was unfavorable : they looked 
 upon her as a reserved and frigid sort of being whom one 
 would rather cross the room to avoid than be brought into 
 conversation with unnecessarily. Such a person, whatever 
 quality might have at first attracted him (could it have been 
 her coldness ?) was not likely to acquire or retain any very 
 powerful hold upon Byron. At the beginning of their married 
 life, when first they returned to London society together, one 
 seldom saw two young persons who appeared to be more de- 
 voted to one another than they were. At parties he would be 
 seen hanging over the back of her chair, scarcely talking to 
 anybody else, eagerly introducing his friends to her, and, if 
 they did not go away together, himself handing her to her 
 carriage. This outward show of tenderness, so far as my 
 memory serves me, was observed and admired as exemplary, 
 till after the birth of their daughter. From that time the 
 world began to drop its voice into a tone of compassion when 
 speaking of Lady Byron, and to whisper tales of the misery 
 she was suffering poor thing on account of the unkind- 
 ness of her husband. 
 
 " The first instances of his ill-usage which were heard, were 
 so insignificant as to be beneath recording. ' The poor lady
 
 LORD BYRON. 187 
 
 had never had a comfortable meal since their marriage.' 
 ' Her husband had no fixed hour for breakfast, and was al- 
 ways too late for dinner.' ' At his express desire, she had 
 invited two elderly ladies 1 to meet them in her opera-box. 
 Nothing could be more courteous than his manner to them, 
 while they remained ; but no sooner had they gone than he 
 began to annoy his wife by venting his ill-humor, in a strain 
 of bitterest satire, against the dress and manners of her 
 friends.' There were some relations of Lady Byron whom, 
 after repeated refusals, he had reluctantly consented to dine 
 with. When the day arrived he insisted on her going alone, 
 alleging his being unwell as an excuse for his absence. It 
 was summer time. Forty years ago people not only dined 
 earlier than they do now, but by daylight ; and after the as- 
 sembled party were seated at table, he amused himself by 
 driving backwards and forwards opposite the dining-room 
 windows. 2 
 
 " There was a multitude of such nonsensical stories as these, 
 which one began to hear soon after Ada's birth ; and I be- 
 lieve I have told the worst of them. No doubt, as the things 
 occurred, they must have been vexatious enough, but they do 
 not amount to grievous wrongs. They were faults of temper, 
 not morel delinquencies ; a thousand of them would not con- 
 stitute an injury. Nor does one know to what extent they 
 may have been provoked. They would, in all probability, 
 have ceased, had they been gently borne with and perhaps 
 were only repeated because the culprit was amused by wit- 
 nessing their effects. At all events they were no more than a 
 sensible woman, who had either a proper feeling for her hus- 
 band's reputation, or a due consideration of her own position, 
 would have readily endured ; and a really good wife would 
 never have allowed herself to talk about them. And yet it 
 was by Lady Byron's friends, and as coming immediately from 
 her, that I used to hear them. The complaints, at first so 
 trifling, gradually acquired a more serious character. ' Poor 
 
 1 Mrs. Joanna Baillie and her sisier. 
 
 * The above gossip all came to me from different friends of Lady Byron.
 
 1 88 WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 Lady Byron was afraid of her life.' ' Her husband slept 
 with loaded pistols by his bedside, and a dagger under his 
 pillow.' Then there came rumors of cruelty no one knew 
 of what kind, or how severe. Nothing was definitely stated. 
 But it was on all hands allowed to be ' very bad very bad 
 indeed.' And as there was nothing to be known, everybody 
 imagined what they pleased. 
 
 " But whatever Lord Byron's treatment of his wife may have 
 been, it could not have been all evil. Any injuries she suf- 
 fered must have occurred during moody and angry fits of tem- 
 per. They could not have been habitual or frequent. His 
 conduct was not of such a description as to have utterly ex- 
 tinguished whatever love she might have felt at her marriage, 
 or to have left any sense of terror or aversion behind it. This 
 is evident from facts. Years after they had met for the last 
 time, Lady Byron went with Mrs. Jameson, from whom I re- 
 peat the circumstance, to see Thorwaldsen's statue of her 
 husband, which was at Sir Richard Westmacott's studio. 
 After looking at it in silence for a few moments, the tears 
 came into her eyes, and she said to her companion, ' it is 
 very beautiful, but not so beautiful as my dear Byron.' How- 
 ever interrupted by changes of caprice or irritability, the gen- 
 eral course of her husband's conduct must have been gentle 
 and tender, or it never would, after so long a cessation of in- 
 tercourse, have left such kindly impressions behind it. I 
 have, indeed, reason to believe that these feelings of affec- 
 tionate remembrance lingered in the heart of Lady Byron to 
 the last. Not a fortnight before her death, I dined in com- 
 pany with an old lady who was at the time on a visit to her. On 
 this lady's returning home, and mentioning whom she had 
 met, Lady Byron evinced great curiosity to learn what sub- 
 jects we had talked about, and what I had heard of them, 
 'because I had been such a friend of her husband's.' This 
 instance of fond remembrance, after an interval of more than 
 forty years, in a woman of no very sensitive nature a 
 woman of more intellect than feeling conveys to my mind 
 no slight argument in defense of Byron's conduct as a hus-
 
 LORD BYRON. 189 
 
 band. His wife, though unrelenting, manifestly regretted his 
 loss. May not some touch of remorse for the exile to which 
 she had dismissed him for the fame over which she had 
 cast a cloud for the energies which she had diverted from 
 their course of useful action in the Senate, 1 to be wasted in 
 no honorable idleness abroad and for the so early death to 
 which her unwife-like conduct doomed him, have mingled its 
 bitterness with the pain of that regret ? 
 
 " But what do I know of Byron ? The ill I will speak of 
 presently. Personally, I know nothing but good of him. Of 
 what he became in his foreign banishment, when removed 
 from all his natural ties and hereditary duties, I, personally, 
 am ignorant. In all probability he deteriorated ; he would 
 have been more than human if he had not. But when I was 
 in the habit of familiarly seeing him, he was kindness itself. 
 At a time when Coleridge was in great embarrassment, Rog- 
 ers, when calling on Byron, chanced to mention it. He im- 
 mediately went to his writing-desk, and brought back a check 
 for a hundred pounds, and insisted on its being forwarded to 
 Coleridge. ' I did not like taking it,' said Rogers, who told 
 me the story, ' for I knew that he was in want of it himself.' 
 His servants he treated with a gentle consideration for their 
 feelings which I have seldom witnessed in any other, and they 
 were devoted to him. At Newstead there was an old man 
 who had been butler to his mother, and I have seen Byron, as 
 the old man waited behind his chair at dinner, pour out a 
 glass of wine and pass it to him when he thought we were too 
 much engaged in conversation to observe what he was doing. 
 The transaction was a thing of custom ; and both parties 
 seemed to flatter themselves that it was clandestinely effected. 
 A hideous old woman, who had been brought in to nurse him 
 when he was unwell at one of his lodgings, and whom few 
 would have cared to retain about them longer than her ser- 
 vices were required, was carried with him, in improved attire, 
 to his chambers in the Albany, and was seen, after his mar- 
 riage, gorgeous in black silk at his house in Piccadilly. She 
 
 1 He had made some good speeches in the House-
 
 I9O WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 had done him a service, and he could not forget it. Of his at- 
 tachment to his friends, no one can read Moore's life and en- 
 tertain a doubt. He required a great deal from them not 
 more, perhaps, than he, from the abundance of his love, freely 
 and fully gave but more than they had to return. The ar- 
 dor of his nature must have been in a normal state of disap- 
 pointment. He imagined higher qualities in them than they 
 possessed, and must very often have found his expectations 
 sadly balked by the dullness of talk, the perversity of taste, or 
 the want of enthusiasm, which he encountered on a better or 
 rather longer acquaintance. But, notwithstanding, I have 
 never yet heard anybody complain that Byron had once ap- 
 peared to entertain a regard for him, and had afterwards ca- 
 priciously cast him off. 
 
 " Now, after these good and great qualities, I revert to the 
 evil of Byron's character and conduct. And here, if he were 
 bad, were there no extenuations, derived from the peculiarities 
 of his position and education, to be pleaded for him ? Was 
 he not better, instead of worse, than most young men have 
 proved who were similarly circumstanced ? He had virtually 
 never known a father's love, or a mother's tenderness. He 
 was from early childhood wholly cut off from those motives to 
 virtue, and those restraints from vice, which, amid a band of 
 brothers and sisters, grow up around us with the family affec- 
 tions. Home is the only school in which right principles and 
 generous feelings find a genial soil and attain a natural 
 growth. Without a home the boy sees nothing, knows noth- 
 ing considers nothing, and feels for nothing but himself ; and 
 a home Byron never had. The domestic charities and their 
 ameliorating influences were only known to him by name. 
 He was from boyhood his own master ; and would it have 
 been strange, if, with strong passions, an untutored will, fer- 
 vent imagination, and no one with authority to control him, he 
 was sometimes led astray ? But during the time he was in 
 London society, what young men were there, with the same 
 liberty to range at will as he, who were less absorbed by its 
 dissipations ? Who among them abstracted so much time
 
 LORD BYRON. 19 1 
 
 from the fascinations of the world as he, to study as he 
 studied, and to write as he wrote ? I have little doubt, 
 though I don't know it, that in the season of his unpar- 
 alleled success he was not likely to have been more rigid in his 
 conduct than his companions were in their principles. But it 
 is at least extraordinary that, while thus courted and admired, 
 if his life was as licentious as some have represented, the 
 only scandal which disturbed the decorum of society, and 
 with which Byron's name is connected, did not originate in 
 any action of his, but in the insane and unrequited passion of 
 a woman. 
 
 " Byron had one preeminent fault a fault which must be 
 considered as deeply criminal by every one who does not, as 
 I do, believe it to have resulted from monomania. He had a 
 morbid love of a bad reputation. There was hardly an of- 
 fense of which he would not, with perfect indifference, accuse 
 himself. An old school-fellow, who met him on the Conti- 
 nent, told me that he would continually write paragraphs 
 against himself in the foreign journals, nnd delight in their 
 republication by the English newspapers as in the success of 
 a practical joke. When anybody has related anything dis- 
 creditable of Byron, assuring me that it must be true, for he 
 had heard it from himself, I have always felt that he could not 
 have spoken with authority, and that, in all probability, the 
 tale was a pure invention. If I could remember, and were 
 willing to repeat, the various misdoings which I have from 
 time to time heard him attribute to himself, I could fill a vol- 
 ume. But I never believed them. I very soon became aware 
 of this strange idiosyncrasy. It puzzled me to account for it ; 
 but there it was a sort of diseased and distorted vanity. 
 The same eccentric spirit would induce him to report things 
 which were false with regard to his family, which anybody 
 else would have concealed, though true. He told me more 
 than once that his father was insane and killed himself. I 
 shall never forget the manner in which he first told me this. 
 While washing his hands, and singing a gay Neapolitan air, 
 he stopped, looked round at me, and said, ' There always was
 
 I Q2 WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 a madness in the family.' Then after continuing his washing 
 and his song, as if speaking of a matter of the slightest in- 
 difference, ' My father cut his throat.' The contrast between 
 the tenor of the subject and the levity of the expression, was 
 fearfully painful : it was like a stanza of ' Don Juan.' In this 
 instance, I had no doubt that the fact was as he related it, 
 but in speaking of it only a few years since to an old lady l in 
 whom I had perfect confidence, she assured me that it was not 
 so ; that Mr. Byron, who was her cousin, had been extremely 
 wild, but was quite sane and had died quietly in his bed. 
 What Byron's reasons could have been for thus calumniating, 
 not only himself, but the blood that was flowing in his veins, 
 who can divine ? But, for some reason or other, it seemed to 
 be his determined purpose to keep himself unknown to the 
 great body of his fellow-creatures to present himself to 
 their view in moral masquerade, and to identify himself in 
 their imaginations with Childe Harold and the Corsair, be- 
 tween which characters and his own as God and education 
 had made it the most microscopic inspection would fail to 
 discern a single point of resemblance. 
 
 " Except this love of an ill-name this tendency to malign 
 himself this hypocrisy reversed, I have no personal knowl- 
 edge whatever of arty evil act or evil disposition of Lord 
 Byron's. I once said this to a gentleman 2 who was well ac- 
 quainted with Lord Byron's London life. He expressed him- 
 self astonished at. what I said. 'Well,' I replied, 'do you 
 know any harm of him but what he told you himself?' 'Oh, 
 yes, a hundred things ! ' ' I don't want you to tell me a hun- 
 dred things, I shall be content with one.' Here the conversa- 
 tion was interrupted. We were at dinner there was a large 
 party, and the subject was again renewed at table. But af- 
 terwards in the drawing-room, Mr. Drury came up to me and 
 said, ' I have been thinking of what you were saying at dinner. 
 I do not know any harm of Byron but what he has told me of 
 himself.' " 
 
 1 Mr*. Villiers, Lord Clarendon'* mother. 
 The Rev. Henry Drury.
 
 LORD BYRON. 193 
 
 Mr. Harness's testimony to the good points in Byron s char- 
 acter is especially valuable as it comes from one who was not 
 in the least blinded by the brilliancy of his genius. So del- 
 icately sensitive, indeed, was Mr. Harness's nature, that he 
 always, as he confessed, felt Byron's poetry to be a little too 
 ' strong " for him. He attributed a large part of Byron's 
 reckless conduct in after-life to the misfortune of his ill-as- 
 sorted marriage. " It was brought about," he observed, "by 
 well-meaning friends, who knew that Byron wanted money, and 
 thought they were consulting his best interests." He formed 
 the alliance, as is often the case, because other people liked it ; 
 but they did not take into consideration how many elements 
 are required to constitute the happiness of sentient human 
 beings. Lady Byron was a person entirely deficient in tact 
 and reflection, and made no allowances for the usual eccen- 
 tricities of genius. In some periods of our history she might 
 have aspired to a real crown of martyrdom, for she was a 
 Puritan in creed, and an unflinching advocate of her own views. 
 Miss Mitford justly asks, " Why did she marry Byron ? His 
 character was well known, and he was not a deceiver ! " Pos- 
 sibly she hoped to make an illustrious convert of him, or 
 thought that she might at once share his celebrity and restrain 
 his follies. If so, she greatly overrated her influence, and 
 ignored the perversity of human nature. Byron had a childish 
 weakness for dramatic effect and excitement, and it was his 
 habit to amuse himself at times by indulging in fantastical 
 rhapsodies, full of tragic extravagance. Harness knew these 
 occasions, and merely lapsed into silence, and when the poet 
 found that no one was horrified or delighted, he very soon 
 came to the end of his performance. But Lady Byron was too 
 conscientious, or too severe, to allow the fire thus to die out. 
 She took seriously every word he utteerd, weighed it in her 
 precise balance, and could not avoid expressing her condemna- 
 tion of his principles and her abhorrence of his language. 
 This fanned the flame, increased his irritation, or added zest 
 to his amusement. Whatever crime she accused him of he 
 was not only ready to admit, but even to trump by the confes- 
 '3
 
 194 WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 sion of some greater enormity. Few of us have sufficient 
 taste and delicacy for the office of a censor, or sufficient hu- 
 mility to profit by rebuke : but in the present case the difficulties 
 were unusually great. " There can be no doubt," observed 
 Mr. Harness, " that Byron was a little ' maddish.' " He was 
 afflicted with a more than usual share of that eccentricity 
 which so often turns aside the keen edge of genius ; but he 
 was amiable, and might have been led, though he would not be 
 driven. 
 
 Mr. Harness had no communication with Byron during the 
 latter years of his life. He nevertheless always continued to 
 take a kindly view of the character of his old school-fellow and 
 college friend, and endeavored to make every allowance for 
 his conduct ; but at the same time we must not suppose that 
 he permitted any personal feeling to interfere with his sense 
 of right, or to prevent his denouncing the principles advocated 
 in his friend's later writings. We have already noticed his 
 disapproval of Byron's conduct, and as it became more marked, 
 he spoke in stronger language. Their intimacy then ceased, 
 and Byron recklessly abandoned himself to those dissipations 
 which ended in his early death. In 1822, Mr. Harness was 
 appointed Boyle Lecturer by the University of Cambridge ; 
 and his duty was " to be ready to satisfy such real scruples as 
 any may have concerning matters of religion, and to answer 
 such new objections and difficulties as may be started." Lord 
 Byron's works were then at the height of their popularity ; 
 and as some of them seemed to be exercising a very perni- 
 cious influence, Mr. Harness selected for special consideration 
 the poem l in which an attempt was made to represent God as 
 responsible for the origin of Sin. 
 
 "By a fiction of no ordinary power," he observes, "the 
 rebellious son of a rebellious father is disclosed to the imagi- 
 nation as upon the borders of Paradise, and within the shad- 
 owy regions of the dead, holding personal communion with 
 the spiritual enemy of man. Each is represented as advocat- 
 ing the cause of his impiety to the partial judgment of his 
 
 Cam.
 
 LORD BYRON. 195 
 
 companion in iniquity. Miserable they are ; but still they 
 are arrogant and stern, remorseless and unsubdued by misery. 
 For them adversity has no sweet or hallowed uses. While 
 they make mutual confession of the wretchedness their sin 
 has caused them, they appear to glory in it, as if ennobled by 
 its magnitude and exalted by its presumption. To their licen- 
 tious apprehensions all excellence appears corrupted and 
 reversed. They call good evil, and evil they call good. Pride 
 is virtue, and rebellion duty. Lucifer is the friend, and Jeho- 
 vah is the enemy of man ; and while they reciprocate the argu- 
 ments of a bewildering sophistry, the benevolence of the 
 Deity is arraigned, as if He rejoiced in the affliction of his 
 creatures, first conferred an efficacy on the temptation, and 
 then delighted to exact the penalties of transgression." 
 
 Byron had attempted to justify himself by asserting that he 
 had expressed no sentiments worse than those which were to 
 be found in Milton ; but even were this the case (Mr. Harness 
 observed), there would be a peculiar danger in reproducing 
 them in a specious form, and in times when faith was already 
 obscured : " The danger is heightened by the peculiar charac- 
 ter of the times. Had the allegations of these malignant 
 spirits been preferred in an age of more general and fervent 
 piety, there had been little peril in their publication. They 
 had only awakened in the breast of the reader a more entire 
 abhorrence of the beings by whom they were entertained and 
 uttered. It was thus in the days of Milton. Every taunt of 
 Satan was then opposed by the popular spirit of devotion, and 
 armed against his cause the deepest and the holiest affections 
 of the heart. But the spirit of those times has past. Zeal 
 has yielded to indifference, and faith to skepticism. We have 
 become so impatient of the restraint of Christianity, and so 
 indulgent to every argument that endows our inclinations with 
 an apology for sin, that few and transient are the feelings of 
 religious gratitude which are offended by the impieties of Cain 
 or Lucifer, and their appeal against the dispensations of Al- 
 mighty Providence is calmly heard and favorably deliberated ; 
 for, in the skillful extenuation of their guilt, we appear to
 
 196 WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 listen to the arguments that soothe us with the justification of 
 our own. There is also a danger in the manner with which 
 these antiquated cavils are revived and recommended. Uni- 
 ted with the dramatic interest and the seductions of poetry, 
 they obtain a wider circulation. They gain an introduction 
 to the studies of the young ; they pass into the hands of that 
 wide class of readers, who only find in literature another 
 variety of dissipation, and who, after having eagerly received 
 the contagion of demoralizing doubts, would indolently cast 
 aside the cold metaphysical essay that conveyed their refuta- 
 tion." 
 
 Byron's friendship for Mr. Harness, who even during their 
 intimacy did not scruple to reprove and oppose his principles, 
 was perhaps the most pleasing episode in his private career ; 
 and his accusers should know that, during the whole of their 
 correspondence, he never penned a single line to his friend 
 which might not have been addressed to the most delicate 
 woman. 
 
 MARY RUSSELL MITFORD. 
 
 One of William Harness's earliest friends born at Aires- 
 ford, in the same woodland district was Mary Russell Mit- 
 ford. Their families had long been connected : Dr. Harness 
 gave away Miss Russell, who became Miss Mitford's mother ; 
 and it was here that the future authoress passed those happy 
 days and her earliest years were her happiest to which 
 she reverted with such fond remembrance in after-life. Here, 
 in the spacious library, lined with her grandfather Russell's 
 books, or in the old-fashioned garden, among the stocks and 
 hollyhocks, she and little William would chase away the sum- 
 mer hours, until the time when the carriage arrived, which 
 was to carry her playmate back to Wickham. A picture 
 taken when she was about six years old enables us to form 
 some idea of her at this time. It represents her with her 
 hair cut short across her forhead, and flowing down at the 
 back in long glossy ringlets, while in her face there is a 
 sedateness and gravity beyond her years, such as we might 
 expect to find in a young lady devoted to study, and cele-
 
 MARY RUSSELL MITFORD. ig? 
 
 brated for early feats of memory. William Harness, on the 
 other hand by two years the younger was full of joyous 
 and exuberant spirits, with a bright, beaming countenance, a 
 rosy complexion, and a profusion of dark hair which curled 
 and clustered on his open brow. 
 
 The following letter from school is interesting from its date, 
 and as showing the early intimacy between William Harness 
 and Miss Mitford : 
 
 " HAKROW, 31^ jfuly, 1808. 
 
 " MY DEAR DOCTOR MITFORD, 
 
 " I was impudent enough to invite myself to your house, and 
 you were kind enough to say that I should be welcome ; it was 
 afterwards settled I should come to the races. I am too self- 
 ish to let such an opportunity slip, and fully intend to bore 
 you for some time at Grasely. I hope Mrs. Mitford will not 
 turn me out. Will you then, my dear sir, let me know when 
 the races are, and when I shall be least troublesome to you ; 
 for as soon as you appoint I shall come down and harass Miss 
 Mitford to death ! My father and grandmother send their 
 love and compliments to Mrs. and Miss Mitford and yourself. 
 I shall keep all my civil things till we meet. 
 
 " Believe me, 
 
 " Yours sincerely, 
 
 "W. HARNESS." 
 
 Mr. Harness observed on this occasion that the Mitfords' 
 mode of living was greatly altered. Dr. Mitford's extrava- 
 gance had almost consumed the golden gift which the fairies 
 had showered upon his little daughter. A change was visi- 
 ble in the household ; the magnificent butler had disappeared : 
 and the young Harrow boy by no means admired the shabb) 
 equipage in which they were to exhibit themselves on the 
 race-course. 
 
 During Mr. Harness's residence at Hampstead, in what 
 may be termed, the holiday period of his life, he occasionally 
 indulged his fancy in the composition of short poems, such as 
 were then in fashion, and were considered to add grace and
 
 198 WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 sentiment to the routine of correspondence. In his inter- 
 course with his friends he also found another way of contrib- 
 uting to the entertainment and sociability of those around him. 
 Many of his young lady acquaintances were proficient in acting 
 charades, and found much pleasure in such exercises of inge- 
 nuity. As he was known to be a man of taste, he was soon 
 called upon to use his skill for their benefit, and he accord- 
 ingly planned a somewhat more elaborate performance than 
 they had hitherto tried, by the introduction of a little dramatic 
 scene and dialogue to represent each word. The attempt was 
 successful, and Mr. Harness's charades met with considera- 
 able approbation. 
 
 Miss Mitford was one of those who were most pleased with 
 his idea, and as she was then writing for the magazines, 
 requested permission to publish some of his charades in 
 " Blackwood." This was granted ; for, although Mr. Har- 
 ness wished to keep them for the use of his own friends, he 
 was unwilling to lose any opportunity of affording pecuniary 
 assistance to his early companion. They accordingly ap- 
 peared in the year 1826; Miss Mitford adopting Mr. Har- 
 ness's plans, and developing them with her own facility of 
 expression. '' I inclose my charades," she writes to him, 
 " which, in all but their faults, might more properly be called 
 yours." In a letter written at this time, Mr. Harness thus 
 alludes to them, and gives some interesting details about his 
 interview with Deville, the phrenologist: 
 
 "Mv DEAR Miss MITFORD, 
 
 " Send me the charades, and I will forward them to ' Black- 
 wood.' I have not a doubt of their doing your opera at 
 Covent Garden, if Charles find it likely to succeed which, 
 from the nature of the story, must, I should think, be the 
 case. I really think Deville was right about my head ; and 
 right, in fact, even when he appeared to be wrong in his de- 
 scription. For instance, he said that I should be offended by 
 glaring colors, which is not the case. I have the eyes of colors, 
 but am extremely annoyed by colors that don't harmonize,
 
 MARY RUSSELL MITFORD. 199 
 
 though I am rather fond of strong colors. I forget whether, 
 in my hurry of writing to you, I told you of his extraordinary 
 exposition of the character of my friend Newman's little hoy. 
 The child went with me ; and Deville having told me the pro- 
 pensities of the child's character, said, ' There is one thing 
 very remarkable in this boy's head ; I never saw any English 
 child with the perceptive organs so strongly marked. In 
 general, the English have strong reflection, and the for- 
 eigners strong perception ; but in this boy there is an exact 
 and beautiful equality subsisting between the two.' His 
 mother is, as you know, a Portuguese. This was an admir- 
 able hit. 
 
 " By the bye, would it not be better to reserve your charades 
 for your novel ? They would take as new, and, at the present 
 time, novelty of incident is the very thing that novels want. 
 
 "With kindest remembrances to Dr. and Mrs. Mitford. 
 
 " Best love, 
 " Yours ever most faithfully, 
 
 WILLIAM HARNESS." 
 
 One of these charades formed a complete little drama of 
 the time of the Commonwealth. The word was " Match- 
 lock," and the persona a Puritan's daughter, a Cavalier, and 
 the irritable old Puritan himself. The last of the series pub- 
 lished was composed entirely by Miss Mitford. It was on 
 " Blackwood," and gave an exquisite specimen of the author- 
 ess's poetic talent, and of her power in describing sylvan 
 scenery. 
 
 Miss Mitford in the following letter speaks of her friend's 
 production with her characteristic enthusiasm : 
 
 "THE WIFE OF ANTWERP." 
 
 " THREE MILK CROSS, Noi'cmbe*- tfk, 1839. 
 
 " MY DEAR FRIEND, 
 
 " Let me thank you most sincerely and heartily for the thrice 
 beautiful play. I have read it with equal pride and pleasure 
 a triumphant pleasure in such an evidence of the sweet and
 
 200 MARY RUSSELL MITFORD. 
 
 gentle power of my oldest, and, I might almost say, my kindest 
 friend. It breathes the spirit of the old dramatists from first 
 to last, especially of Hey wood, whose ' Woman killed with 
 Kindness ' is forcibly recalled ; but by that sort of resemblance 
 which springs from a congeniality of talent, and makes one 
 say, ' Heywood might have written this, although there is 
 much more of the letter of poetry, more finished and beautiful 
 passages, than can be found in any single play of the ' Prose 
 Shakespeare.' I do not know when I have read a drama 
 which bore such evidence of the author's mind, so good, so 
 pure, so indulgent, so gentlemanly. Lady Dacre told me that 
 it was full of beauty ; but I did not expect so much poetry, 
 and I feel sincerely grateful to Mr. Dyce (whom I always liked 
 very heartily on his own account) for rescuing this charming 
 play from the flames. When I said that I had not for a long 
 time seen a drama so full of the author, I fibbed unconsciously, 
 for it is into plays that authors do put their very selves. The 
 character of Kessel is very beautiful and original, and the 
 high-minded Albert and poor, poor Margaret have made me 
 cry more than I can tell. At all events, I rejoice to have it 
 printed. It fixes you in the same high position poetically that 
 you have always occupied socially and professionally. It is 
 a thing for your friends to be proud of, in every sense of the 
 word. If the tableaux go on, I shall come to you for a dra- 
 matic scene. Has that book been sent yet ? You will be very 
 much pleased with Miss Barrett's ballad, in spite of a little 
 want of clearness, and with Mr. Proctor's spirited poem. In 
 short, it is the only book bearing my name of which I was 
 ever proud ; but if we go on I shall be still prouder next year 
 to have you added to my list of poets and friends. What a 
 thing it is, by mere self-postponement and sympathy in the 
 claims of others, to have hidden such a gift ! It is just like 
 what your sister does, who cleverer and better than half her 
 acquaintances always speaks of herself as nobody. 
 
 "God bless you ! A thousand thanks for all your kind- 
 ness. Ever most faithfully yours, 
 
 " M. R. MITFORD."
 
 MARY RUSSELL MITFORD. 2OI 
 
 Mr. Harness and Miss Mitford were bound together not 
 only by early associations, but by a mutual geniality of tem- 
 perament, and a sympathy in each other's tastes and pursuits. 
 Both were ardent lovers of literature, especially of the more 
 social branches of it, and both fully appreciated the powerful 
 influence obtained by the Drama. Miss Mitford had an espe- 
 cial predilection for this kind of composition. " If I have any 
 talent," she writes, " it is for the Drama ; " and we can imagine 
 the relief with which she must have flown from the cold 
 cynicism of her father to the kindly encouragement of her 
 early friend, who bade her continue in the path she loved. Nor 
 can we assert that his support was ill-judged, when we read 
 the many noble and touching passages which adorn " Rienzi," 
 and recollect the success it achieved a success which would 
 have distinguished its author had she never etched a single 
 episode of village life. There may perhaps have been also a 
 kinder motive for Mr. Harness's encouragement ; for the 
 theatre then offered better hopes of pecuniary remuneration 
 than any other field of literature. 
 
 The affectionate regard which Miss Mitford felt towards 
 her early friend is well shown by the following gratifying 
 offer : 
 
 THREE MILE CROSS, April 4, 1837. 
 
 " MY DEAR WILLIAM, 
 
 " I have only one moment in which to offer a petition to you. 
 I have a little trumpery volume called ' Country Stories,' about 
 to be published by Saunders and Otley. Will you permit me 
 to give these Tales some little value in my own eyes by in- 
 scribing them (of course in a few true and simple words) to 
 you, my old and most kind friend ? I would not dedicate a 
 play to you, for fear of causing you injury in your profession ; 
 but I do not think that this slight testimony of a very sincere 
 affection could do you harm in that way ; for even those 
 who do not allow novels in their house, sanction my little 
 books. Ever affectionately yours, 
 
 " M. R. MITFORD."
 
 2O2 WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 The dedication was as follows : 
 
 "To 
 
 THE KEV. WILLIAM HARNESS, 
 Whose old hereditary friendship 
 Has been the pride and pleasure 
 
 Of her happiest hours, 
 Her con*olation in the sorrows, 
 
 and 
 Her support in the difficulties of life, 
 
 This little volume 
 
 Is most respectfully and affectionately 
 Inscribed by 
 
 THK AUTHOR." 
 
 But although there was such a congeniality in literary taste 
 between Mr. Harness and Miss Mitford, they were at issue on 
 a more important subject. Miss Mitford's views on religion 
 were decidedly " broad," although they would have appeared 
 narrow in comparison with some of the present day. Mr. 
 Harness, as we have seen, was a man of sound doctrine, and 
 faithfully attached to the Church of England, and his friend's 
 views caused some dissatisfaction to his orthodox mind. He 
 desired to bring her round to more correct opinions, and appar- 
 ently wrote to her on the subject ; for we find her, in a letter, 
 tenderly requesting him not to press arguments upon her 
 which could not alter her convictions, and deprecating the dis- 
 cussion of anything which might create a distance between two 
 such early friends. 
 
 If there was any person beyond the pale of Mr. Harness's 
 Christian forbearance, that individual was Dr. Mitford. The 
 reckless manner in which he squandered the family property, 
 and his selfishness even to the last, when he became entirely 
 dependent on his daughter's incessant toil, often continued by 
 night as well as by day, would have estranged the affections 
 of any but one 
 
 " Whose kind heart refused to discover 
 The fault* which to many could find." 
 
 The history of Dr. Mitford's extravagance and folly have 
 been written by Mr. Harness himself. Like other men of his 
 stamp, the doctor seems to have been in turn the impostor
 
 MARY RUSSELL MITFORD. 203 
 
 and the dupe. Mr. Harness disliked not only his morals, but 
 also his manners, his self-sufficiency and loud talk, and could 
 scarcely understand the amount of filial infatuation which led 
 Miss Mitford to speak of his "modesty" and "excellence." 
 
 Notwithstanding Miss Mitford's slavery at the pen, the 
 doctor died considerably in debt ; and although her poverty 
 was great, she retained such a filial regard for his memory, 
 that she boldly announces : " Everybody shall be paid, if I 
 sell the gown off my back, or pledge my little pension." In 
 these difficulties a suggestion was made, by those who knew 
 her wide popularity, that a subscription should be set on foot 
 to raise a sum to meet these liabilities. The response to the 
 appeal thus made by Mr. Harness and other friends was more 
 liberal than could have been expected. The following is a 
 letter from Mrs. Opie on this subject : 
 
 " LADY'S LANE, 2d Afontk, z\th, 1843- 
 
 " Mv DEAR FRIEND, 
 
 " I thought I should see thy name on poor dear Miss Mit- 
 ford's committee. What a sad tale she has to tell ! How 
 she has been tried ! And what a daughter she has been to a 
 most unworthy father ! I know no one like her in self-sacri- 
 fice and patient endurance. Surely, under such circumstances, 
 the creditors will take less than their due, and wait for the rest 
 till she can pay it. So few persons like to subscribe to pay 
 debts, that this debt of ^800 or ,900 will hang, I fear, like a 
 millstone over the subscription. But I forget this debt 
 paid, she may, perhaps, by the labors of her pen, support her- 
 self without help. And I do hope the Queen will double her 
 pension. 
 
 " In the meanwhile, I am begging for her. I intend to raise 
 ^20, and to get more if I can. I shall ask a sovereign from 
 eighteen persons I have in hand seven already and then 
 send the 20 up to some one, or pay it into Gurney's bank, to 
 be remitted to her bankers. In such a case, and in many 
 cases, begging is a Christian duty. She has written to me 
 and sent me the papers to distribute.
 
 2O4 WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 " I think she would have gained more by an appeal to the 
 public in .the papers, with a list of subscribers ; but she and 
 you and her agents know best what to do. I shall be very 
 sorry if I do not raise 20 or more. How I wish it were as 
 easy for me to serve thy nephew ! 
 
 " Believe me, 
 
 44 Much thine, 
 
 "AMELIA OPIE." 
 
 The sum collected was not only sufficient to cover all the 
 outstanding liabilities, but also to add something to the author- 
 ess's narrow income. 
 
 During the last two years of her life Miss Mitford's health 
 rapidly declined. Mr. Harness frequently visited her at this 
 time ; and in a letter to a friend shortly before her death she 
 speaks with her old enthusiasm of her early friend ; 
 
 " By the way, this most dear friend of mine has been here 
 for ten days came for one found himself a lodging, and 
 has stayed ever since, and will stay ten days longer. Did you 
 ever hear of him ? . . . . He has every grace and accom- 
 plishment person (even at sixty odd), voice, manner, talent, 
 literature, and, more than all, the sweetest of natures. His 
 father gave away my mother. We were close friends in child- 
 hood, and have remained such ever since. And now he leaves 
 the Deep Dene, with all its beauty of scenery and society, to 
 come to me, a poor sick old woman, just because I am sick, 
 and old, and poor ; and because we have loved each other like 
 brother and sister all our lives. How I wish you were here to 
 hear him read Shakespeare, and to listen to conversation that 
 leaves his reading far behind ! " 
 
 In a note written to himself about this time, and in 
 contemplation of her own approaching dissolution, she ob- 
 serves : 
 
 " You are left, dear friend, to be the one green oak of the 
 forest, after the meaner trees have fallen around you. May 
 God long preserve you to the many still left to grow up under 
 your shade ! "
 
 MARY RUSSELL MITFORD. 2O5 
 
 One of the last letters written by Miss Mitford to Mr. Har- 
 ness, and marked "immediate," contained directions with re- 
 gard to the publication of her life and correspondence. With 
 characteristic thoughtfulness, she avoids preferring any formal 
 request that might inconvenience her friend or involve him in 
 a laborious and unprofitable undertaking. She does not even 
 express any opinion as to the value of her literary remains, 
 but rather implies a doubt whether any one would think them 
 worth publishing. Finally, however, she gives a list of per- 
 sons in possession of her correspondence, and observes that 
 no one knew the course of her life better than himself. From 
 the tenor of this letter it is evident that she wished Mr. Har- 
 ness to write some biographical notice of her ; and some con- 
 versations which had passed between them confirmed him in 
 this opinion. 
 
 Soon after his friend's death, Mr. Harness commenced the 
 task of looking through her letters, but he found the work 
 much more arduous than he had anticipated. Although her 
 habits were in every respect frugal, her favorite economy 
 seemed to be in paper. Her letters were scribbled on in- 
 numerable small scraps sometimes on printed circulars 
 sometimes across engravings and half a dozen of these 
 would form one epistle, and had in course of time become 
 confused and interchanged in their envelopes. When we add 
 to this that towards the end of her life Miss Mitford's hand- 
 writing became almost microscopic, it can easily be understood 
 that the arrangement of these sibylline leaves was no short 
 or easy undertaking. Mr. Harness worked hard at it, out of 
 affection for his lost friend, but at last he felt that, from failing 
 health, he must either abandon his design or call in to his as- 
 sistance some person who had more time and energy to devote 
 to its prosecution. Under these circumstances, he applied to 
 Mr. Henry Chorley, a man of well-known literary skill, and one 
 of Miss Mitford's most intimate friends. 
 
 In the meanwhile a difficulty arose from a most unexpected 
 quarter. A year before Miss Mitford's death, she made her 
 will, and left her servants K. and Sam her residuary legatees.
 
 206 WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 It is possible that at that time she thought nothing about her 
 letters, or any life which might be written of her, and felt 
 satisfied that at all events she was leaving everything in the 
 safe custody of her executors. 
 
 No literary person would ever dream of committing their 
 private correspondence to the hands of half-educated servants, 
 or indeed to those of any one in whose judgment and ability 
 they had not the fullest confidence. Something seems to have 
 occurred to her mind on this subject at the very last, and, be- 
 ing ignorant of law, she thought a letter to Mr. Harness, her 
 executor, would be in every way a sufficient safeguard. 1 To- 
 wards the end of her life, she became very much dependent 
 on her maid, and probably in one of those ebullitions of gen- 
 erosity for which she was remarkable, left her all her little 
 property. On account of the objections raised, Mr. Chorley 
 refused to proceed with the work, unless an arrangement 
 could be made with the Sweetmans. They, on their part, 
 put in exorbitant claims, and Mr. Chorley withdrew, observ- 
 ing that the work would barely remunerate the editor. The 
 undertaking was then relinquished, apparently forever. 
 
 Mr. Harness always considered the demands of the Sweet- 
 mans to be merely vexatious, as he knew well the wishes of 
 his life-long friend and the entire confidence she placed in 
 him. He was also fully convinced that her servants had no 
 legal claim whatever on any portion of her literary corre- 
 spondence. 
 
 We thus entered upon the work with a flowing sail, and 
 spent two years not unpleasantly in deciphering and arranging 
 the multifarious materials, so as to form an agreeable and con- 
 tinuous narrative of the life of the popular authoress. One 
 great difficulty we encountered spoke favorably for the promise 
 of the book. We had such a redundance of good matter, of 
 clever criticism and graceful description, that we found it very 
 difficult to compress it into anything like readable propor- 
 tions. 
 
 1 The Sweetmans afterwards filed a bill in chancery against Mr. Bentley and my- 
 self. It wa ditmitsed without costs.
 
 HARNESS AT STRATFORD. 207 
 
 The Life of Mary Russell Mitford, commenced in 1866, was 
 three years in progress. In the autumn of 1868 it appeared 
 to be ready, and we offered it to several leading publishers, 
 who all declined it upon different grounds. Even Mr. Bentley, 
 who at first entertained the proposal, afterwards withdrew on 
 receiving an adverse critique. He at the same time observed 
 that if the work were reduced to half its dimensions he might 
 still entertain it. Mr. Harness undertook the abridgment, and, 
 but for my strenuous opposition, would have curtailed his own 
 introductory notices, and omitted the first letter, which is 
 characteristic and interesting from its date. In a few months 
 he resigned his undertaking ; he was feeling the weakness in- 
 separable from advanced age ; and the careful reduction of 
 six volumes to three required no_slight amount of reading and 
 attention. He accordingly placed the further revision of the 
 work entirely in my hands. 
 
 HARNESS AT STRATFORD. 
 
 Mr. Harness yielded to few in his enthusiasm for Shake- 
 speare. He was wont to say that his plays contained almost 
 everything. In his early years, inspired with youthful ardor, 
 he made a pilgrimage to the birthplace of the great poet, and 
 although he started with the intention of staying there only 
 four days, he ended by remaining five weeks. He was charmed 
 with the place, and spent his time most enjoyably in ex- 
 ploring the beauties of the country, and in visiting the spots 
 hallowed by the dramatist's memory. He told me that at the 
 close of one long summer day, after returning from a walk to 
 Anne Hathaway's cottage, he took out his volume of Shake- 
 speare, which was his constant companion, and opening it at 
 " King John," became completely absorbed in the tragic story. 
 Time flew by rapidly and unheeded, until warned by his wan- 
 ing lamp, he started up and found that it was past midnight. 
 He went to the window ; the stars were shining brightly in the 
 clear sky and shedding their thin light over the old gabled 
 houses and lofty elm-trees ; the night was breezeless, and all 
 was shrouded in silence. Suddenly the church clock struck
 
 208 WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 one. The deep booming reverberated through the stillness 
 as though it would awake the spirits of the past ; the hour and 
 the scene were alike inspired. Mr. Harness thought how 
 " that great man " might have listened to the same solemn 
 stroke, and recalled the lines : 
 
 " The midnight bell 
 
 Did with his iron tongue and brazen mouth 
 Sound ' one ' unto the drowsy race of night.'' ' 
 
 Mr. Harness found the inscription on Shakespeare's monu- 
 ment in a very imperfect condition. He had it restored at 
 his own expense. Above the epitaph by Ben Jonson is the 
 line : 
 
 " Judicio Pylium, genio Socralem, arte Maronem," 
 
 the false quantity in which offended Mr. Harness's classical 
 ear, and he proposed to substitute " Sophoclem " for " Socra- 
 tem." The mistake might have been due to some ignorant 
 copyist ; and the genius of Shakespeare seemed as much allied 
 to that of the great tragedian as to that of the philosopher. 
 He much regretted that the original coloring of the bust had 
 not been allowed to remain. 
 
 His EDITION OF SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 His edition of Shakespeare was published by Mr. Harness 
 immediately after his appointment to St. Pancras. It had been 
 prepared when he was residing at Hampstead, and had no 
 parochial cure, but only Sunday duty in London. He did not 
 confine himself in his undertaking to merely adding notes to the 
 text of the poet ; but also prefixed a Life, which occupied the 
 first volume. This biography was remarkable for its scrupulous 
 impartiality ; no such record being in his opinion instructive 
 or valuable, which was not absolutely faithful in all its details, 
 and which did not chronicle the frailties as well as the virtues 
 of its subject. Miss Mitford, in praising the work, says, " I 
 am quite delighted with your edition of Shakespeare. It must 
 do. The ' Life ' is like the portrait affixed to it ; the old be- 
 loved, well-known features which we all have by heart, but 
 
 1 Act iii. scene 3.
 
 ffIS EDITION OF SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 inspired with a fresh spirit." She objects, however, to his 
 over-sensitiveness and anxiety to notice all the invidious al- 
 legations made against his author's fame. But Mr. Harness 
 thought it unworthy of the character of the great poet to allow 
 him to gain anything by concealment ; and speaking of his 
 early days at Stratford, and of the probability that he assisted 
 his father in the unpoetical trade of a butcher, he emphati- 
 cally rejects " that absurd spirit of refinement which is only 
 too common among the writers of biography, as well as history, 
 and which induces them to conceal or misrepresent every oc- 
 currence which is at all of a humiliating nature, and does not 
 accord with those false and effeminate notions so generally en- 
 tertained respecting the dignity of that peculiar class of com- 
 position." He, at the same time, blames the severity with 
 which Shakespeare's early vagaries were punished by Sir 
 Thomas Lucy. " Every contemporary," he says, " who has 
 spoken of our author, has been lavish in the praise of his 
 temper and disposition. 'The gentle Shakespeare ' seems to 
 have been his distinguishing appellation. No slight portion 
 of our enthusiasm for his writings may be traced to the fair 
 picture which they present of the author's character. We 
 love the tenderness of heart, the candor, and openness, and 
 singleness of mind, the largeness of sentiment, the liberality 
 of opinion, which the whole tenor of his works proves him to 
 have possessed. His faults seem to have been the transient 
 aberrations of a thoughtless moment, which reflection never 
 failed to correct ; the ebullition of high spirits might mislead 
 him ; but the principles and the affections never swerved from 
 what was right. Against such a person, the extreme severity 
 of the magistrate should not have been exerted. But the 
 powerful enemy of Shakespeare was not to be appeased ; the 
 heart of the Puritan or the game-preserver is very rarely formed 
 of ' penetrable stuff.' Our author fled from the. inflexible 
 persecutions of his opponent to seek shelter in the metropolis ; 
 and he found friends and wealth and fame where he had only 
 hoped for an asylum. Sir Thomas Lucy remained to enjoy 
 the triumph of his victory, and he yet survives, in the char- 
 id
 
 210 WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 acter of Justice Shallow, as the laughing-stock of poster- 
 ity." 
 
 " Shakespeare's first employment in connection with the 
 theatre in London, presents us with a characteristic picture of 
 the times. He was to receive the horses of those who rode to 
 the performance, and was to hold them until the end of the 
 performance. He became, we are told, such a favorite in this 
 office, that every one, when he alighted, called out, ' Will 
 Shakespeare ! ' and he soon was in such demand that he hired 
 young men to assist him, who would present themselves, say- 
 ing, ' I am Shakespeare's boy, sir ! ' That the above anec- 
 dote was really communicated by Pope," adds Mr. Harness, 
 "there is no room to doubt." 
 
 " But however inferior," he continues, " was the situation 
 which Shakespeare first occupied, his talents were not long 
 buried in obscurity. He rapidly rose to the first station in the 
 theatre, and by the power of his genius, raised our national 
 dramatic poetry, then in its infancy, to the highest state of 
 perfection which it is perhaps capable of reaching." 
 
 SHAKESPEARE AS A PLAYER. 
 
 Speaking of the characters played by Shakespeare, Mr. Har- 
 ness draws the following conclusions : "It would appear that 
 the class of characters to which the histrionic exertions of 
 Shakespeare were confined was that of elderly persons parts 
 rather of declamation than of passion. With a countenance 
 which, if any of his pictures is a genuine resemblance of him, 
 we may adduce that one as our authority for esteeming capable 
 of every variety of expression ; with a knowledge of the art 
 which rendered him fit to be the teacher of the first actors 
 of his day, and to instruct Joseph Taylor in the character 
 of Hamlet, and John Lowine in that of King Henry the 
 
 1 (Note by Mr. Harness.) "There on be no doubt that Justice Shallow was 
 designed .is the representative of the knight. If the traditional authority of this 
 feet were not quite satisfactory, the description of his coat of arms in the first scene 
 of Tkt Merry Wivei of Windier, which is, with very slight deviation, that of the 
 Lucys, would be sufficient to direct us to the original of the portrait.* 1
 
 GOODNESS OF SHAKESPEARE'S WRITING. 2 1 1 
 
 Eighth ; with such admirable qualifications for preeminence, 
 we must infer that nothing but some personal defect could 
 have reduced him to limit the exercise of his powers, and even 
 in youth assume the slow and deliberate motion which is the 
 characteristic of old age. In his minor poems we perhaps 
 trace the origin of this direction of his talents. It appear* 
 from two places in his Sonnets that he was lamed by some 
 accident. In the 37th Sonnet he writes : 
 
 ' So I made lame by Fortune's dearest spite.' 
 
 And in the Spth he again alludes to his infirmity, and says, 
 
 ' Speak of my lameness, and I straight will halt.' 
 
 This imperfection would necessarily have rendered him unfit 
 to appear as the representative of any characters of youthful 
 ardor, in which rapidity of movement or violence of exertion 
 was demanded, and would oblige him to apply his powers to 
 such parts as were compatible with his measured and impeded 
 action. Malone has most inefficiently attempted to explain 
 away the palpable meaning of the above lines, and adds, ' If 
 Shakespeare was in truth lame, he had it not in his power to 
 halt occasionally for this or any other purpose, the defect must 
 have been fixed and permanent.' Not so ! Surely many an 
 infirmity of the kind may be skillfully concealed, or only be- 
 come visible in the moments of hurried movement. Either 
 Sir Walter Scott, or Lord Byron might, without any impro- 
 priety, have written the verses in question ; they would have 
 been applicable to either of them. Indeed the lameness of 
 Lord Byron was exactly such as Shakespeare's might have 
 been ; and I remember, as a boy, that he selected those 
 speeches for declamation which would not constrain him to 
 the use of such exertions as might obtrude the defect of his 
 person into notice." 
 
 GOODNESS OF SHAKESPEARE'S WRITING. 
 
 Mr. Harness was acustomed to say that all that Shake- 
 speare wrote was good, but that many passages were attributed 
 to him which were not authentic. He explains his views on 
 the corruptions of the text in the following words :
 
 212 WILLIAM HARNESS 
 
 " If Shakespeare still appears to us the first of poets, it is in 
 spite of every possible disadvantage to which his own sublime 
 contempt of applause had exposed his fame, from the igno- 
 rance, the avarice, or the officiousness of his early editors. To 
 these causes it is to be ascribed that the writings of Shake- 
 speare have come down to us in a state more imperfect than 
 those of any other author of his time, and requiring every ex- 
 ertion of critical skill to illustrate and amend them. That so 
 little should be known with certainty of the history of his life 
 was the natural consequence of the events which immediately 
 followed his dissolution. It is true that the age in which he 
 flourished was little curious about the lives of literary men ; 
 but our ignorance must not wholly be attributed to the want of 
 curiosity in the immediate successors of the poet. The public 
 mind soon became violently agitated in the conflict of opposite 
 opinions. Every individual was called upon to take his stand 
 as the partisan of a religious or political faction. Each was 
 too intimately occupied with his personal interest to find leisure 
 for so peaceful a pursuit as tracing the biography of a poet. 
 If this was the case during the time of civil commotion, under 
 the Puritanical dynasty of Cromwell the stage was totally de- 
 stroyed ; and the life of a dramatic author, however eminent 
 his merits, would not only have been considered as a subject 
 undeserving of inquiry, but only worthy of contempt and abom- 
 ination. The genius of Shakespeare was dear to Milton and 
 to Dryden ; to a few lofty minds and gifted spirits ; but it was 
 dead to the multitude of his countrymen, who, in their foolish 
 bigotry, would have considered their very houses polluted if 
 they had contained a copy of his works. 
 
 " After the Restoration these severe restrictions were re- 
 laxed ; and, as is universally the case, the counter-action was 
 correspondent to the action. The nation suddenly exchanged 
 the rigid austerity of Puritanism for the extreme of profligacy 
 and licentiousness. When the Drama was revived, it existed 
 no longer to inculcate such lessons of morality as were en- 
 forced by the contrition of Macbeth, the purity of Isabel, or the 
 suffering constancy of Imogen ; but to teach modesty to blush
 
 GOODNESS OF SHAKESPEARE'S WRITING. 21$ 
 
 at its own innocence, to corrupt the heart by pictures of de- 
 bauchery, and to exalt a gay selfishness and daring sensuality 
 above all that is noble in principle and honorable in action. 
 At this period Shakespeare was forgotten. He wrote not for 
 such profligate times. His sentiments would have been met 
 by no correspondent feelings in the breasts of such audiences 
 as were then collected within the walls of the metropolitan 
 theatres, composed of men who came to hear their vices flat- 
 tered, and of women masked, ashamed to show their faces at 
 representations which they were sufficiently abandoned to de- 
 light in. The jesting, lying, bold intriguing rake, whom Shake- 
 speare had rendered contemptible in Lucio, and hateful in 
 lachimo, was the very character that the dramatists of Charles's 
 time were painting after the model of the court favorites, and 
 representing in false colors as a deserving object of approba- 
 tion. French taste and French morals had banished our 
 author from the stage, and his name had faded from the mem- 
 ory of the people. Tate, in his altered play of " King Lear," 
 mentions the original, in his dedication, as an obscure piece. 
 The author of the " Tattler," in quoting some lines of " Mac- 
 beth," cites them from the disfigured alteration of D'Avenant. 
 The works of Shakespeare were only read by those whom the 
 desire of literary plunder induced to pry into the volumes of 
 antiquated authors, with the hope of discovering some neg- 
 lected jewels that might be clandestinely transferred to enrich 
 their own poverty of invention ; and so little were the produc- 
 tions of the most gifted poet that ever ventured to embark on 
 the varying waters of the imagination known to the generality 
 of his countrymen, that Otway stole the character of the Nurse, 
 and all the love-scenes of " Romeo and Juliet," and published 
 them as his own without the slightest acknowledgment of the 
 obligation or any apprehension of detection. A better taste 
 returned ; and when, nearly a century after the death of Shake- 
 speare, Rowe undertook to superintend an edition of his Plays, 
 and to collect the memoirs of his life, the race had passed 
 away from whom any certain recollections of the great 
 national poet might have been gathered, and nothing better
 
 214 WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 was to be obtained than the slight notes of Aubrey, the scat- 
 tered hints of Oldys, the loose intimations which had escaped 
 from D'Avenant, and the vague reports which Betterton had 
 gleaned in his pilgrimage to Stratford." 
 
 THE GLOBE THEATRE. 
 
 The following sketch by Mr. Harness of the manner in 
 which the performances of the theatre were conducted, affords 
 an interesting picture of the times : he was always fond of 
 characteristic details : 
 
 " The ' Globe ' and the play-house in ' Blackfriars ' were the 
 property of the company to which Shakespeare was himself 
 attached, and by whom all his productions were exhibited. 
 The ' Globe ' appears to have been a wooden building, of a 
 considerable size, hexagonal without and circular within ; it 
 was thatched in part, but a large portion of the roof was open 
 to, the weather. This was the company's summer theatre, and 
 the plays were acted by daylight. At the ' Blackfriars,' on the 
 contrary, which was the winter theatre, the top was entirely 
 closed, and the performances were exhibited by candle-light. 
 In every other respect the economy and usages of the houses 
 appear to have been the same, and to have resembled those of 
 every other contemporary theatre. 
 
 " With respect to the interior arrangements there were very 
 few points of difference between our modern theatres and 
 those of the days of Shakespeare. The terms of admission 
 indeed were considerably cheaper ; to the boxes the entrance 
 was a shilling ; to the pit and galleries only sixpence ; sixpence 
 also was the price paid for stools upon the stage ; and these 
 seats, as we learn from Dekker's ' Gull's Hornbook,' were pe- 
 culiarly affected by the wits and critics of the time. The con- 
 duct of the audience was less restrained by the sense of public 
 decorum, and smoking tobacco, playing at cards, eating and 
 drinking, were generally prevalent among them. The hour 
 of performance also was earlier ; the play beginning at first at 
 one, and afterwards at three o'clock in the afternoon. During 
 the time of representation a flag was unfurled at the top of the
 
 THE GLOBE THEATRE. 21$ 
 
 theatre, and the floor of the stage (as was the case with every 
 floor at the time from the cottage to the palace) was strewn 
 with rushes. But in other respects, the ancient theatres seem 
 to have been very nearly similar to those of modern times ; 
 they had their pit, where the inferior class of spectators, the 
 'groundlings,' vented their clamorous censure or approbation ; 
 they had their boxes, to which the right of exclusive admission 
 was hired by the night for the more wealthy and refined por- 
 tion of the audience ; and there were again the galleries or scaf- 
 folds above the boxes, for those who were content to purchase 
 inferior accommodation at a cheaper rate. On the stage, the 
 arrangements appear to have been nearly the same as at pres- 
 ent ; the curtain divided, the audience from the actors, which at 
 the third sounding not indeed of the bell, but of the trumpet 
 was withdrawn for the commencement of the performance. 
 With regard to the use of scenery, it is scarcely possible, 
 from the very circumstances of the case, that such a contri- 
 vance should have escaped our ancestors. All the materials 
 were ready to their hands ; they had not to invent for them- 
 selves, but to adapt an old invention to their purposes, and at a 
 time when every better apartment was adorned with tapestry ; 
 when even the rooms of the commonest taverns were hung 
 with painted cloths : while all the essentials of scenery were 
 continually before their eyes, we can hardly believe our fore- 
 fathers to have been so deficient in ingenuity as never to have 
 conceived the design of converting the common ornaments of 
 their walls into the decorations of their theatres. Mr. Gifford, 
 who adheres to Malone's opinion, says, 'A table, with a pen and 
 ink thrust in, signified that the stage was a counting-house ; if 
 these were withdrawn, and two stools put in their places, it was 
 then a tavern ; ' and this might be satisfactory as long as the 
 business of the play was supposed to have been passing within 
 doors ; but when it was removed to the open air, such meagre 
 devices would no longer be sufficient to guide the imagination 
 of the audience, and some new method must have been 
 adopted to indicate the place of action. After giving the sub- 
 ject considerable attention, I cannot help thinking that Stee-
 
 2l6 WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 vens was right in rejecting the evidence of Malone, and con- 
 cluding that the spectators were, as at the present day, assisted 
 in following the progress of the story by means of painted and 
 movable scenery." l 
 
 MRS. SIDDONS. 
 
 It must be remembered that, in the days in which Mr. Har- 
 ness wrote, the legitimate drama had not yet been superseded 
 by extravagant and ephemeral representations. A charge of 
 pedantry might have been brought against the stage with more 
 justice than one of frivolity. The theatres, of which there 
 were but two, were not places for idleness and dissipation, 
 but for study and intellectual enjoyment. There were then 
 no stalls ; nor did the pit offer that cheap rate of accommo- 
 dation which has tempted managers to introduce perform- 
 ances of a broad and tawdry character. Moreover, the lovers 
 of Shakespeare could then have their taste gratified to an ex- 
 tent which has since been impossible. The works of the 
 great dramatist were rightly represented by the combined tal- 
 ent of the Kemble family. Under them, the stage became a 
 source of high moral, as well as artistic, instruction. Never, 
 since the days of classic Attica, had the drama struck so 
 deeply the finer chords of the human heart ; and the well- 
 read volume was as frequent in the pit as was the white hand- 
 kerchief in the gilded tiers. So jealous at this time were the 
 audience of the fame of the great dramatist, that I have been 
 told that the omission of a single line, or even of a word, 
 would call forth an immediate expression of disapproval. 
 The proud sovereign of this assemblage of high-born women 
 and scholarly men was no less a person than Mrs. Siddons, 
 who seems to have enjoyed a celebrity verging upon adora- 
 tion. At her appearance enthusiastic applause rang through 
 the crowded house. None who had not seen her could ever 
 realize the impression she made. As she walked the stage 
 
 1 This opinion is confirmed by the ancient stage directions. In the folio Shake- 
 speare, of 1623, we read* Enter Brutus, in Ait artkard ;' 'Enter Timon, in tht 
 i ; ' ' Enter Timon, from kit eavt.'
 
 A/XS. SJDDONS. 217 
 
 like one of Nature's queens, all could understand the dignity 
 of motion implied in Virgil's expression : 
 
 " Incessu pntuit dea." 
 
 Campbell speaks of "her lofty beauty, her graceful walk 
 and gesture." And when we add to this the charm of her 
 flexible and expressive voice, we cannot be surprised at the 
 admiration she awakened. Few who saw her ever forgot her. 
 Crabbe Robinson used to say that he prided himself on three 
 things ; he had been intimate with Goethe, he had made a 
 walking tour with Wordsworth, and he had seen Mrs. Siddons. 
 Mr. Harness could not be less deeply impressed by one who 
 so eloquently interpreted his favorite oracle ; and as might 
 have been expected, he regarded her performance from a criti- 
 cal point of view. " Her high judgment watched over her 
 qualifications." "It was not merely her appearance that gave 
 her such power," observed Mr. Harness, " she owed much to 
 her persevering industry. She admitted to me one day, in re- 
 ply to a question, that, although it might sound egotistical for 
 her to say it, she did not think that there would be again such 
 an impersonation of Calista 1 as her own, taking into consider- 
 ation the voice, the use of the stage, and above all the labori- 
 ous study." On a later occasion, when he was referring to 
 the excellence of her intonation, she observed that over-exer- 
 tion in large theatres had injured her power of expression, 
 which was much greater in her earlier days. The perfection 
 at which she had arrived in her art, and the skill with which 
 she equaled Nature, may be estimated from a reply made to 
 Mr. Harness by a well-known critic, when he observed that 
 Mrs. Siddons had played her part with spirit on the previous 
 night. " Yes," returned his friend, " but I never before saw 
 her so much like an actress." 
 
 Mr. Harness related the following anecdote in which the con- 
 duct of the great actress was very characteristic. He was din- 
 ing at Lord Lonsdale's, and among the company were Mrs. 
 Siddons and Mr. and Miss Edgeworth. Mr. Edgeworth, who 
 
 1 A part in Tht Fair Penitent for which she was celebrated-
 
 2l8 WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 was sitting next to Mrs. Siddons, Sam Rogers being on the 
 other side of her, observed after dinner, " Madam, I think I 
 saw you perform Millamont thirty-five years ago." " Pardon 
 me, sir." " Oh ! then it was forty years ago ; I distinctly rec- 
 ollect it." " You will excuse me, sir, I never played Milla- 
 mont." " Oh, yes, ma'am, I recollect." " I think," she replied, 
 turning to Mr. Rogers, " it is time for me to change my place," 
 and she rose with her own peculiar dignity. 1 
 
 PROSPERO'S ISLAND. 
 
 Mr. Harness objected much to the over-inquisitive spirit 
 which some critics have evinced in the study of Shakespeare. 
 In a review in the " Quarterly " of " Hunter on the ' Tempest,' " 
 in which he blames the writer for his persistent endeavors 
 to define the localities mentioned in that play, he writes as 
 follows : 
 
 " The island was called into existence by a far more potent 
 magician than even Prospero ; and ' like the baseless fabric 
 of a vision ' melted ' into thin air,' leaving ' no rack behind,' 
 with a deep and solemn sound of funeral music, on the 2yl 
 April,, 1616, the day when that mighty master died. After the 
 departure of Prospero and Miranda, it was never visited again 
 by any human creature. The unearthly inhabitants possessed 
 it altogether till the hour of its dissolution. They were then 
 variously dispersed. Caliban, clinging to one of the largest 
 logs which Ferdinand had so industriously piled up, but which 
 had never been ' burnt,' was floated on it in safety to the coast 
 of Algiers. Ariel, with all his subtle company, the ' elves of 
 hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves,' clapping their tiny 
 hands, and singing ' Where the bee sucks ' in sweetest melody 
 and fullest chorus, flitter away delighted to meet the spirit of 
 the great magician from whose fancy they had derived their 
 life and being, and to pour forth their gratulations around him 
 as he ascended on his upward way to regions more bright and 
 
 1 This incident is (aid, by Crabbe Robinson, to have occurred at Mr. Sotheby's; 
 but there wa* ome confusion in hi* mind on the subject. It was related to him by 
 Mr Harness.
 
 THE KEMBLES IN AMERICA. 2 1 9 
 
 pure and ethereal than any to which they even ' in their pride 
 of flight ' could venture to aspire. Since that happy hour they 
 have all dwelt in harmony together in one of the fairest and 
 most secluded valleys of ' Araby the Blest.' We know the 
 spot ; but for worlds we would not be wicked enough to deliver 
 them over in their merry ignorance to the tender mercies of 
 the commentators. Were we to let fall the slightest hint of 
 the position of their melodious home, we are well aware that 
 Mr. Hunter or Mr. Rodd, or both those gentlemen together, 
 would start off to Rotherhithe to-morrow morning, would hire 
 a steamer and go paddling away in a cloud of thick black 
 smoke in pursuit of them ; and having reached the spot, they 
 would, without the least sense of compunction, gather the 
 sweetest blossoms that Ariel ever sucked his honey from, and 
 crush them between the leaves of their hortus siccus ; they 
 would hunt down the innocent spirits themselves ; they would 
 scare them with unearthly sounds ; they would catch them 
 with bird-limed twigs and butterfly nets, run pins through 
 their delicate bodies, fix them to the bottoms of glazed boxes, 
 and bear them away in triumph to be deposited as curiosities 
 among the natural history shelves of the British Museum." 
 
 Macready lost, as he said, ,2,000 a year, owing to an article 
 written by Mr. Harness in the " Quarterly." So much weight 
 had his critiques with the public of the day. 
 
 THE KEMBLES IN AMERICA. 
 
 The following letters are interesting as giving an account of 
 the Kembles' visit to America : 
 
 To the Rev. William Harness. 
 
 "BOSTON, Sunday, May ft A, 1833. 
 
 " Do not imagine that I have any intention of letting you 
 forget me, my dear Mr. Harness, or that I mean to delegate 
 to newspapers, and such like unsatisfactory channels of in- 
 formation, the task of keeping my recollection alive with you. 
 I certainly have suffered a tolerably long interval to escape 
 since the writing of my first epistle ; but that it did not follow
 
 22O WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 from thence that I never meant to write to you again, this is 
 proof. If I were to ask you all the questions I should like 
 answered with regard to things in general, and particularly in 
 my poor dear little country, I might fill my letter with one 
 huge note of interrogation, and leave you to answer all that is 
 ' being, doing, and suffering ' in England ; but I rather think 
 some account of ourselves might be more satisfactory to you ; 
 and so, according to your noble and poetical friend, ' Here 
 goes ! ' (By the bye, his Life by Moore is a terrible pity ; why 
 could n't his works be left to speak for him ? They are his best 
 record after all.) 
 
 " We are all in excellent health, except that my father is 
 
 lame and cross, D sleepy and cross, and I purely cross, 
 
 and nothing else. With regard to my father's lameness, he 
 caught it or, rather, it caught him by the calf of the leg, 
 in the act of springing off the stage after me, in Benedick. 
 'T is an accident of no great importance a sprain or fracture 
 of one or two of the smaller fibres in the leg, which makes 
 him go a little haltingly just now, but is not likely to incon- 
 venience him long. As for all the other ailments, that is the 
 crossness, 't is owing to a bitter bleak east wind, which is the 
 only air that blows in Boston, and keeps us all in a state of 
 misanthropy and universal dissatisfaction. Perhaps, under 
 these circumstances, I had better have deferred writing to 
 you ; but, had I waited till the wind changed its quarter, I 
 must have waited till we returned to New York ; for Boston is 
 the abiding place of the east wind. 
 
 " Our houses, wherever we go, are very fine ; our business 
 most successful. The people and places vie with each other 
 in kindness and civility to us ; and as for me, I am so praised, 
 so admired, so courted, and so flattered, that I am thrown into 
 the depths of humility, sometimes, when I come to consider 
 my own unworthiness ; and only fear that at last I shall ac- 
 quire such an idea of my own excellence, importance, and ad- 
 mirableness that I shall come to the conviction that ' the world 
 is mine oyster.' Seriously, I am sometimes perplexed at the 
 universal kindness and almost affection that is expressed to-
 
 THE KEMBLES IN AMERICA. 221 
 
 wards me, when I cannot help feeling that indeed I have done 
 nothing really to deserve it. However, thank God for it ! And 
 as for the desert, why perhaps it is with me as with the man 
 who said he did not know whether he could play on the fiddle 
 or not, for he 'd never tried. 
 
 " Boston is a Yankee town, which I dare say is as much as 
 you know about it ; but. sir, 'tis moreover the wealthiest town 
 in the Union ; 't is, sir, the most belles-letterish and blue town 
 in the Union ; 't is, sir, the most aristocratic town in the 
 Union, and decidedly bears the greatest resemblance to an 
 English town of any I have seen. The country round it, too, 
 is more like a bit of the old land than anything I have yet 
 seen ; and, though some of the wild romantic scenery round 
 Philadelphia enchanted me very much, the white clean cot- 
 tages, the blossoming apple-trees and flowering garden-plots 
 of the villages round this place have recalled England more 
 vividly, and given me more pleasure than anything I have yet 
 seen. The society is a little stiff ; they have, unfortunately, 
 a reputation in this good town for superior intellect, and are 
 proportionately starched and stupid. However, to have known 
 Webster, and even Audubon, is in itself something ; and 
 though Channing has been obliged by ill-health to leave Bos- 
 ton for the South, I trust yet to have the privilege of knowing 
 him who, I think, reflects more honor on his native city 
 than all its other superiorities put together. 
 
 " We act every night here but Saturday. I grumble dread- 
 fully at this hard work not because it tires me, but because 
 I am idle and like two holidays in a week. However, when I 
 consider that every night lost is a large sum of money lost (for 
 our profits are very great) I am willing to give up my laziness, 
 so long as the work is not too much either for my father or 
 myself. I take an amazing quantity of exercise on horse- 
 back ; 't is meat and drink and sleep to me, and affords me, 
 moreover, the best opportunity of seeing the country, which 
 one never does well in a carriage ; and 't is quite entertaining 
 to see how, before I have been a fortnight in a place, all the 
 women are getting into riding-skirts and up upon horses. I
 
 222 WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 have received ever so many thanks for the improved health of 
 the ladies here who, since my arrival, are all horseback- mad ; 
 and I truly think a good shaking does a woman good in every 
 way. 
 
 " I have acted several new parts since I have been in this 
 new world ; Katherine, the Shrew, which I do pretty well, 
 Bizarre, which I also do pretty well, but particularly the 
 dancing Violante in ' The Wonder,' which I do worse than 
 anything that can be seen, and Mary Copp in ' Charles the 
 Second,' which I do very fairly well, leaving out the singing. 
 Bianca seems to be my favorite part with the public, in 
 tragedy, and Julia in the ' Hunchback,' in comedy. I hear 
 Knowles has written another play with a magnificent woman's 
 part. Of course we shall have it out here before long ; I am 
 curious to see it. 
 
 " I have seen Washington Irving several times since 1 have 
 been in this country. He is idolized here, and talks of settling 
 himself in some little sunny nook on the Hudson that 
 broadest, brightest river in the world. He is very delightful, 
 a most happy, cheerful, benevolent, simple person. His ab- 
 sence of seventeen years from this country has produced 
 changes in it which seem to fill him with amazement and ad- 
 miration. And, indeed, 't is a most marvelous country ! It 
 stands unparalleled under every aspect in which it can be con- 
 sidered, and presents one of the most interesting and extraor- 
 dinary subjects of contemplation that the eye of a politician, 
 or the more extensive gaze of a philosopher, can scan. A 
 land peopled, as this has been, by the overflowings of all othei 
 lands ; to the south colonized by the adventurous but thrifty 
 younger branches of noble families of England, and in great 
 measure also by men whose vices and crimes, as well as their 
 utter poverty, drove them to find shelter away from the society 
 whose laws they had outraged ; to the north, again, this new 
 world owing its first civilized inhabitants to the purest and 
 loftiest spirit of Freedom the holiest and most steadfast 
 spirit of Religion (emanating from England, too) ; and all 
 having received their first dawn of civilization from bodies of
 
 THE KEMBLES IN AMERICA. 22$ 
 
 men differing from each other in object, in religious faith, in 
 country and lineage : a whole continent thus strangely re- 
 claimed from utter savageness, and in the process of a century 
 and a half becoming, from a desolate and utter wilderness, a 
 great political existence, taking a firm and honorable station 
 among the powers of the world. A land abounding in cultiva- 
 tion, civilization, populous towns, full of wealth, of business, 
 of trade, of importance ; vast ports receiving the flags of 
 every nation under Heaven ; to see huge ocean steamboats 
 carrying hundreds of people to and fro every hour along the 
 Hudson, the St. Lawrence, the Mississippi, whose waters, a 
 hundred years ago, were never visited but by the Indian 
 canoe ; to see forests felled, and towns arising, railways and 
 canals traversing and connecting what were wild tracts of in- 
 terminable wood and waste ; to see life, and all its wonderful 
 arts and sciences, reclaiming these vast solitudes to the uses 
 of man and the purposes of civilized existence : this mighty 
 operation which is at this instant going on under our very eyes 
 makes this country one of great interest, of admiration, of 
 anxious observation to all the world. 'T is a marvelous 
 country indeed ! 
 
 " Bless my soul, I did n't mean to be cross * to you, because 
 that 's an infliction ! Don't you wish that you and I wrote bet- 
 ter hands ? Pray, dear Mr. Harness, if you have time to spare, 
 write to me again ; it pleases me to hear from England, and it 
 pleases me to hear from you. 
 
 " For I am very truly, and with great regard, 
 " Yours, 
 
 " FANNY KEMBLE." 
 
 To the Rev. IV. Harness. 
 
 " NBW YORK, iifh April, 1834. 
 
 " MY DEAR FRIEND, 
 
 " When I left England I promised I would write to you, and 
 I am ashamed that I have so long neglected to redeem my 
 promise ; but I rely upon your good-nature to excuse me, al- 
 
 1 The last page of the letter is crossed.
 
 224 WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 though I confess I hardly deserve forgiveness. Fanny, I 
 know, has already told you all that we have seen and done ; so 
 that you have not been left in ignorance of our proceedings by 
 my sin of omission. Pray, which are considered more deadly 
 by divines, sins of omission, or sins of commission ? You 
 will not have time to answer me on this point before we meet ; 
 therefore, I must seek for information from my friends of the 
 cloth in this hemisphere Dr. Wainwright or Dr. Channing : 
 both learned men and pious Christians. Wainwright, with 
 whom I am better acquainted than I am with Channing, seems 
 to me more of a man of the world ; he mixes with general 
 society, and is a well-bred, liberal clergyman, an Episcopalian, 
 and likely to become the next Bishop of Boston. Channing, 
 you know, is a Unitarian, a mild, engaging person in discourse, 
 an eloquent and impressive preacher in the pulpit. Wain- 
 wright is a good preacher, too ; he has much more physical 
 power than Channing, but in my opinion is far his inferior in 
 point of intellect. 
 
 " So much for the leaders in your profession. For those in 
 mine, you are almost as well acquainted with their merits as I 
 am. Mr. Booth, as well as Mr. Hamblin, you must have seen 
 in England ; and Mr. Forrest you will probably see, for report 
 says he is to visit London. He is in person of Herculean pro- 
 portions, fitter, in appearance, for a drayman or a porter than 
 an actor. I have seen him but in two parts, Pierre, which he 
 acted indifferently well; the other, Oroloosa. an Indian; in 
 the representation of which characters he has acquired his 
 reputation. There was an American of the name of Scott, 
 whom I preferred, in the same tragedy ; but he is thought by 
 his countrymen very inferior to Forrest. There are two favor- 
 ite actresses, too, not very distinguished for talent. Miss 
 Vincent and Miss Clifton : the latter is a very tall but beau- 
 tiful girl. 
 
 " We hope to find you and your dear sister at home when we 
 reach London. We did intend to sail from New York on the 
 1 6th of June, but for the advantages of a superior ship and a 
 more agreeable captain, we have been induced to postpone
 
 THE KEANS. 22$ 
 
 our departure until the 24th of June : so pray look out for the 
 arrival of the United States, commanded by Captain Hold- 
 ritch. How happy Fanny's friends will be to see her once 
 more before she is married, won't they ? The legitimate 
 drama will have another chance, I hope, of resuscitation ; and 
 we shall both at least take leave of the British stage in a man- 
 ner worthy of the house of Kemble ! 
 
 " God bless you ! give my affectionate regard to your dear 
 sister ; and believe me, my very dear friend, unalterably yours, 
 
 " C. KEMBLE. 
 
 " Fanny has told you of the irreparable loss we have sus- 
 tained by the death of her aunt. May all our deaths be as 
 peaceful and as happy ! " 
 
 THE KEANS. 
 
 Mr. Harness took little interest in the drama of the present 
 day. Low comedy and scenic effects were his aversion ; and 
 he was wont to say that acting was now a debased art. He 
 still knew a few of the elder members of the histrionic pro- 
 fession, and especially Charles Kean, for whom he had a 
 great personal regard. He remarked how much he had done to 
 raise the social character of the stage, and was deeply affected 
 when he was sent for to attend his friend in his last hours. He 
 had an equal esteem for Mrs. Kean. Referring to her kindness 
 and good-nature, he said that she took great interest in the lit- 
 tle children who came to act in the pantomimes, and that she 
 used to teach them their Catechism between the pieces, thus 
 endeavoring to compensate for their loss of regular instruction. 
 Mr.* Harness's schools, like many others in London, suffered 
 much from the withdrawal of little pupils in the winter. On 
 first entering his school at Knightsbridge, after the Christmas 
 holidays, he inquired why the attendance was so small ? u Be- 
 cause, sir," replied the teacher, " so many of the children are 
 gone to be angels ! " 
 '5
 
 226 WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 " MEMORIALS OF CATHERINE FANSHAVVE." 
 One of the undertakings of- Mr. Harness's later years was 
 the preparation, for private circulation, of the " Memorials of 
 Miss Catherine Fanshawe." This lady had been one of his 
 most intimate friends, and had even proposed to make him 
 her heir, but he refused the offer, averring that he could not 
 endure the thought that he should in any way benefit by her 
 death. He was often wont to say that he could not under- 
 stand the desire which some persons evinced to obtain lega- 
 cies ; for, as he well observed, it was impossible to receive 
 one without incurring the loss of a friend more valuable than 
 any money thus acquired. Miss Fanshawe accordingly only 
 made him the bequest of her etchings and manuscripts, which 
 he gladly accepted. From these Mr. Harness compiled a 
 small volume of " Memorials," to rescue her memory from 
 the oblivion which threatened it. Those who have only heard 
 of her in connection with the riddle on the letter H, have 
 little idea of the range of her endowments or the elegance of 
 her taste. Mr. Harness speaks with affectionate remem- 
 brance of " her varied accomplishments, her acute perception 
 of the beautiful, her playful fancy, her charming conversation, 
 her gentle and retiring manners, her lively sympathy with the 
 sorrows and the joys of others, and, above all, her simple 
 piety ; " and he observes that she was a cherished member of 
 that society, not very extended, but intimately united by a 
 common love of literature, art, and science, which existed in 
 London at the close of the last and the opening of the present 
 centuries, and which, perhaps, " taken for all in all, has never 
 been surpassed." 
 
 Miss Fanshawe's poems and sketches evince a considerable 
 appreciation of humor. One of the latter, representing an 
 evening party some eighty years since, with two politicians 
 gesticulating before the fire-place, surrounded by a languid 
 knot of fops and dandies, while the ladies are left to them- 
 selves, dozing and yawning behind their fans at the other end 
 of the room, might, but for the quaintness of costume, remind
 
 "MEMORIALS OF CATHERINE FANSIIAWE." 
 
 us of many similar festivities at the present day. But Miss 
 Fanshawe's great success lay in her delineation of children, of 
 whose varying moods and expressions of countenance she 
 seems to have possessed an admirable perception. Many 
 charming groups of them are here photographed from her 
 sketches. 
 
 The celebrated riddle by which Miss Fanshawe is best 
 known arose, Mr. Harness said, from an accidental conver- 
 sation at the Deep Dene. Mr. Hope was at the time enter- 
 taining with his usual liberality a number of eminent and 
 literary friends, and in the course of the evening some re- 
 marks turned the conversation upon the letter H, and the 
 unworthy treatment it received in the centre of metropolitan 
 civilization. The party retired soon afterwards, but the sub- 
 ject of discussion had touched Miss Fanshawe's ingenious 
 fancy, and while others slept her mind was busily employed. 
 Next morning at breakfast she brought down the poem and 
 read it to the delighted and astonished guests : 
 
 " 'T was whispered J in heaven, 't was muttered in hell, 
 And echo caught faintly the sound as it fell ; 
 On the confines of earth 't was permitted to rest, 
 And the depihs of the ocean its presence confessed. 
 T will be found in the sphere when 't is riven asunder, 
 Be seen in the lightning, and heard in the thunder. 
 'T was allotted to man with his earliest breath, 
 Attends at his birth, and awaits him in death ; 
 Presides o'er his happiness, honor and health ; 
 Is the prop of his house and the end of his wealth. 
 In the heaps of the miser 'tis hoarded with care, 
 But is sure to be lost on his prodigal heir. 
 It begins every hope, every wish it must bound, 
 With the husbandman toils, with the monarch is crowned. 
 Without it the soldier, the seaman may roam, 
 But woe to the wretch that expels it from home I 
 In the whispers of conscience its voice will be found, 
 Nor e'en in the whirlpool of passion Le drowned. 
 'T will not soften the heart ; but, though deaf be the ear, 
 It will make it acutely and instantly hear. 
 Yet in shade let it rest, like a delicate flower ; 
 Ah ! breathe on it softly it dies in an hour." 
 
 1 Mr Harness said that the original commenced: 
 
 " 'T was in heaven pronounced."
 
 228 WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 Those lines thus first introduced were soon well-known and 
 admired throughout the country, and from their style and 
 curious felicity were attributed to Byron, the popular poet of 
 the age. They afterwards crept into some foreign editions of 
 his works, and are even at the present day often ascribed to 
 him. 
 
 One of the odes in this volume records the lecture deliv- 
 ered by Sydney Smith on " The Sublime," and the gay 
 dresses and toilettes of his fair audience. There is much 
 wit and elegance in the poem, which is after the manner of 
 Gray ; but it was only suggested by Miss Fanshawe, and 
 written by Miss Berry. (Mr. Harness often met this lady in 
 society ; she received the sobriquet of Black-berry from her 
 dark eyes, and to distinguish her from her sister, who received 
 the uncomplimentary title of Goose-berry). 
 
 The following specimen of Miss Fanshawe's humorous tal- 
 ent was much admired by one of the late Prime Ministers : 
 
 SPEECH OF THE MEMBER FOR OLDHAM. 
 
 " Mr. Cobbett asked leave to bring in very soon 
 A Bill to abolish the sun and the moon. 
 The Honorable Member proceeded to state 
 Some arguments used in a former debate. 
 The heavenly bodies, like those upon earth, 
 Had, he said, been corrupt from the day of their birth ; 
 With reckless profusion expending the light. 
 One after another, by day and by night. 
 And what classes enjoyed it ? The upper alone. 
 Upon such they had always exclusively shone : 
 But when had they ever emitted a spark 
 For the people who toil underground, in the dark 
 The people of England, the miners and borers, 
 Of earth's hidden treasures the skillful explorers? 
 But their minds were enlightening ; they learn every hour 
 That discussion is knowledge, and knowledge is power. 
 Long humbled and crushed, like a gi.tnt they rise, 
 And sweep off the cobwebs that darken the skies ; 
 To sunshine and moonshine their duties assign, 
 And claim equal rights for the mountain and mine. 
 
 Turn to other departments. High time to inquire 
 What abuses exist in air, water, and fire- 
 Why keep up volcanoes? that idle display I 
 That pageant w.w all very well in iu day ;
 
 "MEMORIALS OF CATHERINE FANSHAWE." 229 
 
 But the reign of utility now has commenced, 
 
 And wisdom with such exhibitions dispensed. 
 
 When so many were starving with cold, it was cruel 
 
 To nuke such a waste of good fire and fuel. 
 
 As for Nature, how little experience had taught her 
 
 Appeared in the administration of water. 
 
 Was so noble a capital duly employed ? 
 
 Or was it by few (if by any) enjoyed ? 
 
 Poured on marshes and fens which were better without, 
 
 While pasture and arable perished for drought ; 
 
 When flagrant injustice so often occurs 
 
 Abler hands must be wanted and younger than hers ; 
 
 Not to speak of old Ocean's insatiable needs, 
 
 Or of seas so ill-ploughed they bear nothing but weeds. 
 
 At some future day he perhaps should be able 
 To lay the details of their cost on the table. 
 At present, no longer the House to detain, 
 He 'd confine his remarks to the subject of rain. 
 Was it wanted? A more economical plan, 
 More equably working, more useful to man, 
 In this age of improvement might surely be found, 
 By which all would be sprinkled, and none would be drowned. 
 He would boldly appeal to the nation's good sense, 
 Not to sanction this useless, enormous expense. 
 If the wind did but shift, if a cloud did but lower, 
 What millions of rain-drops were spent in a shower? 
 Let them burst through the shackles of wind and of weather, 
 Do away with the office of rain altogether ; 
 Let the whole be remodeled on principles new, 
 And consolidate half the old funds into dew. 
 
 He hoped that the House a few minutes would spare 
 While he offered some brief observations on air. 
 Not the sun nor the moon, nor earth, water, or fire, 
 Nor Tories themselves when with Whigs they conspire, 
 Were half so unjust, so despotic, so blind, 
 So deaf to the cries and the claims of mankind, 
 As air and his wicked prime minister, wind. 
 Goes forth the despoiler, consuming the rations 
 Designed for the lungs of unborn generations! 
 What a waste of the elements made in a storm ! 
 And all this comes on in the teeth of Reform ! 
 Hail, lightning, and thunder, in volleys and peals! 
 The tropics are trembling, the universe reels ; 
 Come whirlwind and hurricane, tempest, tornadoes, 
 Woe! woe! to Antigua, Jamaica, Barbadoes ! 
 Plantations uprooted, and sugar dissolved ; 
 Kum, coffee, and spice in ruin involved ;
 
 230 WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 And while the Caribbees were ruined and rifled, 
 
 Not a breeze reached Guiana, and England was stifled ! 
 
 Rate all that exists at its practical worth 
 T was a system of humbug from heaven lo earth ! 
 These abuses must cease they had lasted too long ; 
 Was there anything right ? Was not everything wrong ? 
 The crown was too costly, the Church was a curse ; 
 Old Parliaments bad, Reformed Parliaments worse ; 
 All revenues ill-managed, all wants ill-provided ; 
 Equality, liberty, justice derided ! 
 But the people of England no more would endure 
 Any remedy short of a Radical cure. 
 Instructed, united, a nation of Sages 
 Would look with contempt on the wisdom of ages ; 
 Provide for the world a more just legislature, 
 And impose an agrarian law upon Nature." 
 
 MASTERS AND SERVANTS. 
 
 Mr. Harness had a great affection for tried and faithful 
 servants ; so much so that he erected a stained glass window 
 in his church to the memory of his aged nurse. He loved to 
 recall the times when servants and masters lived together as 
 members of the same family, with mutual respect and com- 
 mon interests ; and in a passage in which he deplores the 
 change which has now taken place, he sketches a pleasing 
 picture of their former confidential relations : " Worldly cir- 
 cumstances used not to sever classes. A little more than 
 fifty years ago, when Crabbe the poet resided for some time 
 in the house of Mr. Tovell, a gentleman of considerable landed 
 property in Suffolk, he found the drawing and dining rooms 
 only opened on state occasions, and the family generally living 
 with the domestics in the old-fashioned kitchen ; where, while 
 the master of the house read his book or his newspaper by the 
 capacious fireside, the lady sat at a little round table super- 
 intending the work, and working with the maids. In this 
 manner kindly feelings were naturally produced ; civilization 
 was diffused by intercourse ; and the science of house manage- 
 ment acquired by the servant at the hall was carried with her 
 on her marriage to make the comfort of her husband's cottage. 
 In houses of a higher rank, there were always some domestics 
 who had lived long enough in the family to be considered as
 
 MASTERS AND SERVANTS. 23! 
 
 a part of it ; who held a confidential place in the regard of the 
 lord or lady ; and who formed connecting link between them 
 and the menials every one of whom, perhaps, was born on 
 the estate ; while a knowledge of the merits or demerits, the 
 weal or woe, of all was maintained by the superintendence of 
 that most important but now obsolete member of every large 
 establishment, the chaplain. . This tie of friendly care on the 
 one hand, and of attached dependence on the other, has been 
 gradually loosened. Instead of it, there has grown up, be- 
 tween master and servant, a cold, unsympathizing, incom- 
 municable distance an obstinate, impenetrable reserve 
 which exists in no other country, which every really Christian 
 heart feels it painful to keep up, and which no one of ordinary 
 good-nature could think of maintaining towards a dog or a cat 
 that he happened to come as frequently in contact with. By 
 such a state of things both parties are losers ; the master and 
 the mistress, perhaps, the most. It may be taken as a rule 
 without exception that the members of a family cannot live 
 long in a state of indifference towards each other. If they 
 are not united by feelings of regard, they will be severed by 
 feelings of enmity. If the master takes no care to attach his 
 domestics by words and acts of kindness, they very soon begin 
 to look upon him with an evil eye, to lose all concern for his 
 interests ; and if they abstain from defrauding him themselves, 
 they rejoice in the success of the cheat by which he is de- 
 frauded. It is only latterly that all the links of good feeling 
 between the higher and lower members of the same household 
 have been broken asunder. They used to be bound together 
 by a joint interest in the younger branches of the family. 
 Some years ago, there still remained the old footman, or the 
 gray-headed groom, or the trusty nurse-maid to whom the 
 children could be safely given in charge who loved the 
 children, and were loved by them in turn. But now, these 
 are exploded. What is wanted is the restoration of an hum- 
 bler, kindlier, freer manner of intercourse between manufact- 
 urers and their men, farmers and their laborers, masters of 
 families and their domestic servants. I hardly know a more
 
 232 WILLIAM HARNESS 
 
 disgusting piece of hypocrisy than that which I see at the pres- 
 ent day so constantly exhibited, when some arrogant woman 
 of fashion, who treats her country neighbor with supercilious 
 incivility, her less exclusive relatives with the coldest in- 
 difference, and her domestics with a most withering stiffness, 
 passes by all the legitimate objects of her kindness, and goes 
 out of her way to lavish her factitious sympathy and capricious 
 interest on the unknown inmates of some garret or cellar of a 
 London alley." 
 
 STATE OF THE ENGLISH BIBLE. 
 
 On some Church questions Mr. Harness was in advance 
 of his age especially with regard to the revision of the 
 Bible. Writing in the " Edinburgh Review " he notices " the 
 mischief that has been inflicted on the sense of the in- 
 spired writings by the mode of breaking them up into chapter 
 and verse ; " and, speaking further of the translation, he ob- 
 serves that the phrase of the Hebrew language is retained to 
 a most confusing extent. He cites such instances as the 
 following, " the covenant of salt," meaning " a friendly con- 
 tract." " They are crushed in the gate," for " they are found 
 guilty in a court of justice." " The color of the lips," for 
 " praises and thanksgivings," " I have given you cleanness of 
 teeth," meaning " extreme scarcity." " Such are," he observes, 
 the sort of Hebraisms of which Selden says, " what gear do 
 the common people make of them ? " He also objects to the 
 combination of all the books of Scripture into one volume, 
 rendering it either small in type or inconvenient in size. " If 
 a man would fain take his evening walk into the fields, with 
 the Prophecies of Isaiah as his companion, it is no lij^ht 
 grievance to him that he must either forego his inclination, or 
 carry along with him at the same time the Law of Moses ami 
 the History of the Jews, the Psalms of David and the Prov- 
 erbs of Solomon." 
 
 EUWARD IRVING. 
 
 One of the most remarkable circumstances connected with 
 Mr. Harness's cure in St. Pancras was, that he was brought
 
 EDWARD IRVING. 233 
 
 into close proximity with the celebrated Edward Irving, who 
 was then attracting many followers. The Scotch church was 
 on the opposite side of Regent Square, and the performances 
 which took place in it were so distasteful to Mr. Harness, and 
 led astray so many weak brethren, that although with great 
 reluctance, for he disliked polemical discussions he preached 
 a sermon (afterwards published) in which he pointed out the 
 utter groundlessness of Mr. Irving's pretensions. 
 
 He showed how different were the unintelligible rhapsodies 
 of the Irvingites from that divine gift of foreign languages 
 which was so necessary for gospel missionaries in the early 
 centuries. " There is nothing," he observes, " so frugal as 
 Providence. What ! persons inspired to speak languages un- 
 known to others and unintelligible to themselves ! As a 
 blessing, a gift, a grace, an illumination from the Almighty to 
 his saints, there' is nothing parallel to this to be met with in 
 the whole range of the Scriptures ; and, as a punishment, a 
 blindness, and a curse upon his enemies, it surpasses even 
 the malediction against the people of Babel." In a letter to a 
 friend, in which he reiterates his commendation of the sober, 
 steady teaching of the Church of England, Mr. Harness ob- 
 serves, " Edward Irving told me several times that he could 
 not understand why he met with no such true Christians as in 
 the orthodox Church of England. He used the word ' ortho- 
 dox ' in the sense of anti-Calvinistic. And even when we 
 were standing talking in Regent Square, on one side of which 
 his church stood, and mine on the other, he said, pointing first 
 to his own, and then to mine, ' I don't know how it is I have 
 no such humble, quiet Christians here as you contrive to as- 
 semble about you there ! ' That cannot be a bad system 
 which works such effects." 
 
 The influence which Mr. Irving exerted, not only over a 
 large section of the laity, but also over some of the clergy, is 
 thus casually alluded to in a postscript to a letter from Dr. 
 Milman to Mr. Harness : " Can you send me a good, steady 
 humble-minded curate ? I have just parted with one after 
 three months, who will be a follower of Irving in three more
 
 234 WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 the acting of the Strand Theatre with the reasoning facul- 
 ties of St. Luke's ; (Tailleurs, a good kind of young man." 
 
 HARNESS'S EARLY REMINISCENCES. 
 
 Mr. Harness's recollections formed an interesting link be- 
 tween several generations of literary men. As a child he had 
 known Joseph Warton, whose brother, the celebrated poet, 
 had been acquainted with Pope ; who, in turn, could remem- 
 ber to have seen Racine walking in his red stockings in Paris. 
 Sir George Beaumont told him that when at Rome he had 
 spoken to the donkey-man who had accompanied Claude and 
 Caspar Poussin on their sketching excursion to Tivoli. In 
 his youth he remembered Dr. Parr his snappish wit, and 
 the long pipe he smoked after dinner ; the latter causing him 
 especial astonishment, as smoking was then rare and un- 
 fashionable. 
 
 PALEY. 
 
 He might also have known Paley, but his information about 
 him was probably derived from some of the tutors at Christ's 
 College, to which the great apologist had himself belonged. 
 Mr. Harness had several little anecdotes illustrative of Paley's 
 homely manners and rough humor. At the first visitation he 
 attended, after his preferment to the archdeaconry, he dined 
 in company with a large assemblage of clegymen, all of whom 
 were eager to hear his observations. He remained silent, to 
 their great disappointment, until the second course was 
 served. At length the great man spoke ; every ear was 
 strained. What was his oracular utterance ? "I don't think 
 these puddens are much good unless the seeds are taken out 
 of the raisins ! " At another banquet, shortly after his pre- 
 ferment, he found himself exposed to an unpleasant draft 
 of air. "Shut that window behind me," he called out to one 
 of the waiters, "and open one lower down, behind one of 
 the curates ! " 
 
 CRABBE. 
 
 Later than these was Crabbe, the poet, who after publishing 
 " The Library," " The Village," and other poems, disappeared
 
 HARNESS AND SCOTT. 235 
 
 from public sight in a country living for two-and-twenty years, 
 and was generally supposed to be dead, until he revived again 
 in the " Register " in 1807, and reentered London literary 
 circles in 1813. Mr. Harness greatly admired his poems : 
 perhaps he appreciated them the more because they referred 
 so much to country parish life. He particularly noticed the 
 beauty of a little story in the " Tales," where an heiress is 
 prevented by a rich aunt from marrying a man of inferior posi- 
 tion. She by degrees forgets him, and becomes entirely 
 engrossed with the accumulation of money. Her lover, on 
 the other hand, becomes poorer, and is at last an inmate of 
 an almshouse. He reminds her of her promise, which she 
 disowns. 
 
 " He shares a parish-gift ; at church he sees 
 The pious Dinah dropped upon her knees ; 
 Thence, as she walks the streets with stately air, 
 As chance directs, oft meet the parted pair ; 
 When he, with thickest coat of badgeman's blue, 
 Moves near her shaded silk of changeful hue ; 
 When his thin locks of gray approach her braid, 
 A costly purchase made in beauty's aid ; 
 When his frank air, and his unstudied pace, 
 Are seen with her soft manner, air, and grace, 
 It might some wonder in a stranger move, 
 How these together could have talked of love." 
 
 Crabbe visited Edinburgh in 1822, when the festivities in 
 honor of the arrival of George the Fourth drew together such 
 a brilliant assemblage of rank and talent. Scott was too much 
 engaged to do the honors for all his distinguished friends, 
 and assigned some of them to Lockhart, who, to afford mutual 
 gratification, introduced Crabbe to Brewster. Next day, to 
 his consternation, Crabbe observed, " That Dr. Brewster 
 seems an agreeable man what is he ? " and Brewster, on 
 meeting Lockhart, inquired, " By the way, who was that old 
 clergyman you brought to see me ? Did you say his name 
 was Crabbe ? " 
 
 HARNESS AND SCOTT. 
 
 In the opening article of the " Quarterly," for January, 
 1868, a review appeared of the " Life of Scott," written by
 
 236 WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 Dean Milman, and towards the end of it was the following 
 reference : " Proofs of the veneration in which all classes 
 held him greeted Scott wherever he went. Twice on the oc- 
 casion of the coronation of George the Fourth this was 
 shown in a remarkable way. The Rev. Mr. Harness, the ac- 
 complished friend of Mrs. Siddons and Lord Byron, describes 
 that, while he was standing in Westminster Hall, a spectator 
 of the coronation feast, he observed Sir Walter trying, but 
 in vain, to make his way through a crowd to a seat which had 
 been reserved for him. ' There 's Sir Walter Scott,' said Mr. 
 Harness ; ' let 's make way for him.' There was no need for 
 more ; the throng pressed itself back so as to make a lane for 
 Scott, and he passed through without the slightest inconven- 
 ience." Milman was writing from memory, and Mr. Harness 
 told me that the facts were not quite accurately given in this 
 account. Scott had been in Lord Willoughby's box, but had 
 left it, and on returning found it full of ladies. He was ac- 
 cordingly left without a seat, and while looking hopelessly 
 about was seen by Harness from the balcony, who immedi- 
 ately beckoned to him ; and all the people, when they heard 
 who he was, compressed themselves to make room for him. 
 He said, however, that they were very anxious to know 
 whether he was quite sure that he was Sir Walter Scott. 
 
 Few persons who heard him speak could have doubted 
 Scott's nationality ; it could not have been said with justice 
 that Scott 
 
 " Hung 
 On the soft phrase of Southern tongue.'' 
 
 His accent, on the contrary, was so broad that Mr. Harness 
 said he sometimes could not understand him without difficulty. 
 One day when they had been talking of " Lucia di Lammer- 
 muir," which had lately appeared, he changed the subject by 
 ohsrrving, "Weel! I think we've a'most had enow of that 
 chiel." Literature, according to Scott's account, was much 
 better paid then than it is at present ; for on a friend asking 
 him to subscribe to assist a poor author, he refused to comply, 
 asserting that he knew no one worthy of the name except
 
 COLERIDGE. 237 
 
 Coleridge who was not making from ^500 to ^12,000 a 
 year. 
 
 COLERIDGE. 
 
 Mr. Harness used occasionally to visit Coleridge when the 
 latter was staying with Mr. Gillman, the apothecary-doctor, at 
 Highgate. The poet originally went there to recover his 
 health, which he had broken down by over-indulgence in 
 opium. He placed himself there under a sort of voluntary re- 
 straint, and strict orders were given by Mr. Gillman that no 
 drugs of any kind were to be allowed him. Coleridge, miss- 
 ing the stimulant to which he had been long accustomed, 
 pined and languished under the restriction ; he abandoned his 
 pen and sank into utter despondency. One day a large roll of 
 papers came to the poet from the publisher, and on Mr. Gill- 
 man's visiting him in the evening he found him an altered 
 man ; Coleridge was himself again, full of animation and 
 energy, and busily employed in writing an article for the 
 forthcoming " Review." The change was so sudden and re- 
 markable that the doctor's suspicions were aroused. He in- 
 stituted inquiries and found that a roll of opium had, at the 
 poet's entreaty, been inclosed in the packet which had arrived 
 that morning from the publisher. 
 
 Eminent literary men have often been remarkable for the 
 fertility of their conversation, and their powers in this respect 
 have not unfrequently been used without due restraint and 
 discrimination. Coleridge was no exception to this rule ; he 
 would continue to talk on in an unbroken flow, and connect 
 his arguments and observations so adroitly that until you had 
 left him you could not detect their fallacy. 1 Mr. Harness 
 called on him one day with Milman, on their return from pay- 
 ing a visit to Joanna Baillie. The poet seemed unusually in- 
 spired, and rambled on, raising his hands and his head in the 
 manner which Charles Mathews so cleverly caricatured ; and 
 
 1 Wordsworth and Rogers called on him one forenoon in Pall Mall. He talked 
 uninterruptedly for two hours, during which time Wordsworth listened with profound 
 attention. On leaving, Rogers said to Wordsworth, " Well! I could not make head 
 or tail of Coleridge's oration : did you understand it?" " Not a syllable,'' replied 
 Wordsworth. Sometimes, however, his conversation was admirable.
 
 238 WILLIAM HARXKSS. 
 
 asserting, among other strange theories, that Shakespeare was 
 a man of too pure a mind to be able to depict a really worth- 
 less character. " All his villains," he said, " were bad upon 
 good principles ; even Caliban had something good in him." 
 Coleridge, in his old age, became a characteristic feature in 
 Highgate. He was the terror and amusement of all the little 
 children who bowled their hoops along the poplar avenue. 
 Notwithstanding his fondness for them he called them 
 ' Kingdom-of-Heaven-ites ' his Cyclopean figure and learned 
 language caused them indescribable alarm. Sometimes he 
 would lay his hand on the shoulders of one of them and walk 
 along discoursing metaphysics to the trembling captive, while 
 the rest fled for refuge and peeped out with laughing faces 
 from behind the trees. " I never," he exclaimed one day to 
 the baker's boy " I never knew a man good because he was 
 religious, but 1 have known one religious because he was 
 good." 
 
 LAMB. 
 
 We can scarcely mention Cojeridge without being reminded 
 of his friend and school-fellow, Charles Lamb. On reading 
 the life of this author, lately published by Barry Cornwall, Mr. 
 Harness observed that it must surprise every one how such a 
 clever man as Lamb could have said so few good things. He 
 was chief jester to the " Morning Post," and, though it by no 
 means follows, he was a man of undoubted wit. Mr. Har- 
 ness remembered many bright bits of fun which from time to 
 time sparkled in his conversation. On one occasion, an old 
 lady was pouring into his ear a tirade, more remarkable for 
 length than substance, when, observing that the essayist was 
 fast lasping into a state of oblivion, she aroused him by re- 
 marking in a loud voice, " I 'm afraid, Mr. Lamb, you are 
 deriving no benefit from my observations ! " " Well, Madam ! " 
 he replied, recollecting himself, " I cannot say that I am ; but 
 perhaps the lady on the other side of me is, for they go in at 
 one ear and out of the other." 
 
 Elliston, the actor, a self-educated man, was playing cribbage 
 one evening with Lamb, and on drawing out his first card,
 
 ROGKKS. 239 
 
 exclaimed, " When Greek meets Greek, then comes the tug of 
 war." " Yes," replied Lamb, " and when you meet Greek you 
 don't understand it." 
 
 SHERIDAN. 
 
 Among the distinguished persons with whom Mr. Harness 
 was acquainted, he not unfrequently met the celebrated Sheri- 
 dan. He was present at some of the sumptuous entertainments 
 with which the dramatist regaled his friends, and remarked 
 that, although his guests denounced his extravagance, they 
 never refused his invitations. Sheridan was not devoid of that 
 vanity which so often accompanies talent. On one occasion, 
 at a Theatrical Fund Dinner, he made a very high-flown 
 speech in which he spoke of himself as being "descended from 
 the loins of kings ! " " That is quite true," said Dr. Spry, who 
 was sitting next to Harness ; "the last time I saw his father, 1 
 he was the King of Denmark." 
 
 Sheridan's solictor found his client's wife one day walking 
 up and down her drawing-room, apparently in a frantic state 
 of mind. He inquired the cause of such violent perturbation. 
 She only replied " that her husband was a villain." On the 
 man of business further interrogating her as to what had so 
 suddenly awakened her to a sense of that fact, she at length* 
 answered, with some hesitation. " Why, I have discovered 
 that all the love-letters he sent me were the very same as those 
 which he sent to his first wife ! " 
 
 ROGERS. 
 
 The poet Rogers was a more intimate friend. He was one 
 of those few instances in which talent is found united with 
 wealth and energetic labor. In his literary work he was most 
 persevering ; so much so that he spent no less than seventeen 
 years in writing and revising " The Pleasures of Memory." 
 The hasty slip-shod style of the present day was not to his 
 taste. Rogers, like Byron and his compeers, aimed at produc- 
 ing finished pieces ; and though they sometimes thus confined 
 their eagle-flight, they at least avoided an ignominious fall to the 
 
 1 He was an actor.
 
 240 WILLIAM HARXESS. 
 
 ground. But Rogers was not only a wealthy banker and rural 
 poet ; he had also a keen sense of humor, and there was some- 
 thing in the deadness of his countenance and the dryness of 
 his manner which seemed to give additional point to his sar- 
 casms. Mr. Harness said that many of his most telling hits 
 seemed to have little force, when related under different cii- 
 cumstances. Some, however, the reader will, as I imagine, be 
 able to understand without any oral interpretation. Rogers's 
 dwelling was "a cabinet of Art," and he kept a model bach- 
 elor's household ; his servants consisting of three men and one 
 woman. When one of the former who had been a long time in 
 his service, died, a kind-hearted friend called to condole with 
 him on the loss he had sustained. " Well ! " exclaimed Rogers 
 after listening for some time to his expressions of sympathy, 
 " I don't know that I feel his loss so very much, after all. 
 For the first seven years he was an obliging servant ; for the 
 second seven years an agreeable companion ; but for the last 
 seven he was a tyrannical master." * 
 
 Speaking of France brought him to the following story, to 
 which he gave considerable effect : " An Englishman and a 
 Frenchman had to fight a duel. That they might have the 
 better chance of missing one another, they were to fight in a 
 dark room. The Englishman fired up the chimney, and, by 
 Jove ! he brought down the Frenchman ! When I tell this 
 story in Paris," observed Rogers, " I put the Englishman up 
 the chimney ! " 
 
 Mr. Harness had many other little interesting scraps about 
 Rogers. The poet greatly disliked writing letters of condo- 
 lence, and when he had that melancholy duty to perform, he 
 generally copied one of Cowper's. Lord Landsdowne once 
 spoke to him in congratulatory terms about the marriage of a 
 common friend. " I do not think it so desirable," observed 
 Rogers. " No ! " replied Lord Landsdowne, " why not ? His 
 friends approve of it ! " " Happy man ! " returned Rogers, 
 
 1 The poet teems to have been soincwh.it unfortunate in his servants. On one 
 occasion mhen in the country, his favorite groom, with whom he used to drive every 
 d*y, gave notice to leave. Rogers asked him why he was going and what he had to 
 complain of* " Nothing," replied the man : "but you art to dull in the buggy-' 1
 
 THEODORE HOOK. 24! 
 
 " to satisfy all the world. His friends are pleased, and his 
 enemies are delighted ! " 
 
 Moore was a friend of Rogers, and also of Mr. Harness ; 
 but I seldom heard the latter speak of him, except with refer- 
 ence to Byron, and to his having asked for information and 
 letters which might be of use in the " Life " he was compiling. 
 Speaking of Moore's taste for biography, and the number of 
 Memoirs he had composed, Rogers one day cynically observed, 
 " Why, it is not safe to die while Moore 's alive ! " 
 
 WASHINGTON IRVING. 
 
 Among the American friends of this literary coterie, Wash- 
 ington Irving may be mentioned, though he was scarcely to be 
 called an American, inasmuch as his father was an English- 
 man, and his mother a Scotchwoman. He was often in this 
 country, as his brother was a merchant in Liverpool ; and 
 when he visited London, he usually breakfasted with Mr. Har- 
 ness, and dined with Rogers. Alluding to the vanity and self- 
 appreciation of young America, not unnatural in a rising na- 
 tion, Mr. Harness told me that a friend of his spoke in the 
 following manner of a play he had lately written : " I wrote a 
 tragedy last winter and a very good one it was ; and my 
 father said he wished to read it, and I allowed him ; and he 
 said it was a very good one. And he said he should like 
 to go over it with me, word for word, and line for line ; and 
 we went over it word for word and line for line ; and he said 
 he should like to show it to Washington Irving, and so he 
 did ; and he thought it was very good, and he said he should 
 like to go over it with me word for word and line for line. 
 And so we did, and it was beautiful to observe the difference 
 between that old man and me ! " 
 
 THEODORE HOOK. 
 
 At Mrs. Siddons's receptions, Mr. Harness became ac- 
 quainted with Theodore Hook, who was then in general re- 
 quest in fashionable and literary society. He was an accom- 
 plished musician, and almost as remarkable for his improvisa- 
 16
 
 242 U'H.LIAM HARNESS. 
 
 tore talent as for his brilliance in repartee. Wherever he 
 happened to be present, he was looked upon as the wag of 
 the party, and his love of merriment sometimes caused him to 
 indulge in pleasantries which, though sufficiently harmless in 
 themselves, verged too closely upon the limits of propriety. 
 One evening, Mr. Harness, who shared the prejudices then 
 entertained about waltzing, observed to Theodore that he was 
 glad to hear that he disapproved of the new dance. "Well, I 
 don't know about that," returned his friend, " 't is a mere mat- 
 ter of feeling." 
 
 When Theodore was travelling along the south coast, he ar- 
 rived in the course of his journey at Dover, and alighting at 
 the Ship Hotel, changed his boots, ordered a slight dinner, 
 and went out for a stroll through the town. Returning at the 
 appointed time, he was surprised to find the whole establish- 
 ment in confusion. A crowd had collected outside the door 
 the master of the house was standing at the foot of the stairs 
 with two candles in his hands, and on Theodore's entrance, 
 he walked backwards before him, and conducted him into the 
 principal saloon, where all the waiters were standing, and a 
 magnificent repast had been provided. The wit was much 
 amused at the dignity to which he had been promoted ; but, 
 being an easy-going fellow, made no scruples, and sitting 
 down, did full justice to what was set before him. Next day 
 he signified his intention of departing, and ordered a coach ; 
 when, to his astonishment, a carriage-and-four drove up to 
 convey him to his destination. He inquired, with some ap- 
 prehension, what he was to pay for all this grandeur, and was 
 no less astonished than gratified on receiving the answer, 
 " Nothing whatever, your Royal Highness." He was never 
 more thoroughly mystified ; but the next night, on taking off 
 his boots, which he had bought ready-made just before he 
 went to Dover, he found " H. S. H. the Prince of Orange," 
 written inside them. They had been originally made for the 
 Prince, who was then in England, suing for the hand of 
 Princess Charlotte, and notice had been given that all hi> ex- 
 penses while in the country should be set down to the charge 
 of the government.
 
 HENRY HOPE. 243 
 
 LYDIA WHITE. 
 
 Among those most celebrated for their hospitalities during 
 Mr. Harness's earlier residence in London, was Miss Lydia 
 White. She kept a " menagerie," and was herself not the least 
 remarkable specimen it contained. Brave in paint and plaster 
 a wonderful work of art she underwent all the labor nec- 
 essary to produce the grand effect, not from any vanity or af- 
 fectation, but from motives of pure benevolence. "Were I," 
 she observed, " to present myself, as I naturally am, without 
 any of these artificial adornments, instead of being a source 
 of pleasure, and perhaps amusement, to my friends, I should 
 plunge them into the profoundest melancholy." This con- 
 siderate lady was not only fond of clever conversation, but 
 sometimes herself joined in the tournament of wit. Mr. Har- 
 ness remembered many sallies of playful nonsense which he 
 had heard from her ; one of those he preserved was the fol- 
 lowing : On the return of Charles X. to Paris, Talma was en- 
 gaged to play " Sylla ; " but he looked so much like Napoleon, 
 that he was ordered to put on a curly wig. " Why," said 
 Lydia, " were he to do that, we should hardly know Scylla 
 from Charybdis." 
 
 On another occasion, at one of her small and most agree- 
 able dinners in Park Street, the company (most of them, ex- 
 cept the hostess, being Whigs) were discussing, in rather a 
 querulous strain, the desperate prospects of their party. 
 "Yes," said Sydney Smith, "we are in a deplorable condi- 
 tion ; we must do something to help ourselves ; I think we 
 had better sacrifice a Tory Virgin." This was partially ad- 
 dressed to Lydia White, who at once catching and applying 
 the allusion to Iphigenia, answered, "Well, I believe there is 
 nothing the Whigs would not do to raise the wind ! " 
 
 HENRY HOPE. 
 
 Among Mr. Harness's more intimate friends, the name of 
 Henry Hope should not be omitted. This celebrated million- 
 aire, the author of " Anastasius," and the unfortunate hero in
 
 244 WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 the picture of "Beauty and the Beast," was unremitting in 
 his kindness and hospitality towards the young clergyman. 
 He frequently invited him to stay at the Deep Dene, and here 
 Mr. Harness found himself surrounded by all the talent and 
 wealth cf England. The tone of the conversation sometimes 
 amused him much ; as when Rothschild observed to Hope 
 that a man must be " a poor scoundrel who could not afford 
 to lose two millions ; " or replied to a nobleman who said he 
 must be a supremely happy man, " I happy ! when only this 
 morning I received a letter from a man to say that, if I did not 
 send him .500, he would blow out my brains ! " * Mr. Hope 
 had a tutor for his sons at the Deep Dene. One day, when 
 Mr. Harness was staying there, he found this gentleman pac- 
 ing up and down the room in the most distressing agitation of 
 mind. " Is there anything the matter ? " inquired Mr. Har- 
 ness, anxiously. " The matter ! " he replied, " I should think 
 there was ! Three of the worst things that can possibly hap- 
 pen to a man : I 'm in love I 'm in debt and I 've doubts 
 about the doctrine of the Trinity ! " 
 
 Mr. Hope died in 1831. The night after his death Mr. Har- 
 ness dreamed that he saw Lord Beresford's country residence 
 in an unusual state of commotion. He woke up with the im- 
 pression that some death or other great calamity had happened 
 there : and though he afterwards thought lightly of the matter, 
 he determined, as he was going in that direction, to call at 
 Lord Beresford's in Duchess Street, on his way home. On 
 arriving there, he found the blinds down, and the house shut 
 up ; and upon inquiring, the gate-porter told him that Mr. 
 Thomas Hope had died the day before at Bedgebury Park. 
 Mr. Harness had not known that his friend was either ill or in 
 England. Mr. Hope left Mr. Harness his literary executor. 
 
 1 The demands made upon the great are certainly most extraordinary. I remem- 
 ber the late Archbishop Sunnier telling me that a man wrote to him to send him im- 
 mediately yx>, as it would save him from " some unpleasant complications." It 
 was to be directed to X. Y. Z , Post Office, Bristol.
 
 SERJEANT TALFOURD. 24$ 
 
 SERJEANT TALFOURD. 
 
 It was through Miss Mitford's introduction that Mr. Har- 
 ness became acquainted with Serjeant Talfourd. He had 
 been a Reading boy a pupil of Dr. Valpy's and the 
 authoress felt an admiration for his talents even greater than 
 that she entertained for everything else of worth which ema- 
 nated from her " Belford Regis." He was one of those many 
 protegh for whom she predicted a successful career ; and when, 
 in after-years, her prophecy had proved true, she often stayed 
 on a visit at his house in London. One of these occasions 
 was shortly after the production and favorable reception of the 
 Serjeant's well-known play of " Ion." Miss Mitford was also 
 herself at the zenith of her fame. " Rienzi " had run for fifty 
 nights at Drury Lane ; and the attention she received, and the 
 crowds of visitors she attracted, kindled a flame of jealousy in 
 the breast of the rival author. Some complaints of his unrea- 
 sonable conduct towards her may be found in her letters at 
 this period. It was, perhaps, natural that a man who had 
 just written a successful play should feel a little proud of his 
 bantling ; but the serjeant seems, in this respect, to have alto- 
 gether exceeded the bounds of moderation. One morning at 
 breakfast, during Miss Mitford's visit, he opened a newspaper 
 and came upon a review depreciating his beloved play. This 
 brought matters to a crisis. He loudly inveighed against the 
 injustice of the critic ; and on Miss Mitford's endeavoring 
 to pacify him, by remarking that it was really not so severe, 
 and that she should not have felt so much had the strictures 
 been made on her " Rienzi," " Your * Rienzi,' indeed ! " re- 
 plied the serjeant contemptuously ; " I dare say not ! That 
 is very different ! " I have even heard it stated that the dis- 
 sension on this subject became so unpleasant that Miss Mit- 
 ford packed up her boxes one morning and drove away to Mr. 
 Harness's. The serjeant may, perhaps, be pardoned, for his 
 affection for " Ion " was deep and constant. On one occa- 
 sion, when Dickens was calling on Rogers at Broadstairs, he 
 observed, "We shall have Talfourd here to-night." "Shall
 
 246 WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 we?" returned the poet ; "I am rejoiced to hear it. I hope 
 he will come and dine ; but how do you know he is coming ?" 
 " Because ' Ion ' is to be acted at Margate, and he is never 
 absent from any of its representations." 
 
 There was as much careless freedom in Talfourd's house- 
 hold as in that of most men of genius. Goldsmith himself 
 could not have desired a more entire absence of conventional- 
 ity. One day, when Mr. Harness was dining at their house in 
 company with several judges, the serjeant and Mrs. Talfourd 
 sat throughout dinner each with a cat in their lap. On an- 
 other occasion, Mrs. Talfourd requested him to carve a chicken 
 which was placed before him. He essayed to comply, but on 
 his making the attempt the bird spun round and shot off the 
 dish. Mr. Harness, who was a little timid in society, was 
 much perturbed by this misadventure ; but on examining the 
 cause of it, he found that he had been given a fork with only 
 one prong ! " Will you be so good as to cut that tart before 
 you," said the hostess to another guest. " Certainly, if you 
 desire it," was the reply ; " but perhaps you are not aware that 
 it has not been in the oven ? " 
 
 A DINNER AT THACKERAY'S. 
 
 The name of Dickens brings us to that of his great con- 
 temporary, Thackeray ; with regard to whom Mr. Harness 
 appeared to entertain some prejudice. He thought his Bohe- 
 mianism and the general tone of his writings exercised an in- 
 jurious influence on the rising generation. His first personal 
 experience of the novelist was certainly not calculated to re- 
 move this impression. Thackeray invited him to dinner, and 
 Mr. Harness accepted with delight, promising himself a rich 
 intellectual feast at the house of a man of such literary rep- 
 utation. He was gratified in one respect, for when he arrived 
 he found learning and talent most ably represented. The 
 party at dinner was large, and while the ladies remained the 
 conversation wandered softly among flowers and wine and airy 
 compliments. At length the movement came the flutter of 
 fans and silks and the gay corttge of youth and beauty made
 
 DR. MILMAN. 247 
 
 its way to the upper world. The light element had now passed 
 away ; the hour had arrived ; and Mr. Harness looked for- 
 ward to such a discussion as should surpass the days of yore. 
 Now was the time for sharp repartee and for the settling of 
 accounts between rival wits for the cut and thrust and skill- 
 ful parry. He settled himself in his chair, prepared to take 
 his part if necessary, and kept his eyes and ears open, so a'- 
 not to lose a single word or gesture. " Do you smoke ? " in- 
 quired the host. "Smoke?" Mr. Harness had never been 
 guilty of such an offense against social morality. In his day, 
 tars and bargemen were the only smokers except Dr. Parr 
 and he retained all the old prejudices against such an imitation 
 of chimney-pots. He would as soon have thought of going 
 to carouse at a public-house as of smoking in the dining-room 
 after dinner. " Smoke, sir ? I do not." But his firm refusal 
 had no effect whatever on the epicurean company by which he 
 was surrounded. Cigars and tobacco were placed upon the 
 table ; punch and negus followed ; and the observations 
 which were made during the rest of the sitting consisted only 
 of such instructive remarks as " Pass the box," and " Fill 
 up!" 
 
 DR. MILMAN. 
 
 Dr. Milman, who was for a long period Vicar of Reading, 
 before he became Dean of St. Paul's, was one of Mr. Harness's 
 and Miss Mitford's earliest friends. Speaking of his cele- 
 brated poem, Mr. Harness observed that one day he found Mr. 
 Murray in an unusual state of disquietude and indignation. 
 "Would you believe it," demanded the publisher, "Milman 
 has written to ask me for an additional sum for the second 
 edition of the ' Fall of Jerusalem ?' Why, it was I who made 
 that poem." " You ? " repeated Mr. Harness in much aston- 
 ishment ; for although Mr. Murray was an excellent man of 
 business, he could never have been accused of being in the 
 least degree poetical " you made the ' Fall of Jerusalem ? ' " 
 " Yes," maintained the publisher stoutly. " I should like to 
 know what that poem would have been if I had not brought it 
 out in an octavo form ? " Mr. Murray sent the MS. of " Philip
 
 248 WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 van Artevelde " to Milman and Harness for their opinions as 
 to its prospects of success. Both, strange to say, were unfa- 
 vorable to it. Mr. Harness said he never knew a book look so 
 different in print from what it did in manuscript. There was 
 to the last much sympathy and intercourse between these 
 Remarkable brother clergymen. 
 
 A PRISON CHAPLAIN. 
 
 On our conversation turning one day upon the fact that cler- 
 gymen generally were destined to witness but small results from 
 their labors, Mr. Harness remarked that allusion had been made 
 to the same subject previously when he was visiting a prison 
 chaplain. Mr. Harness asked him whether his ministry had 
 been attended with success. " With very little, I grieve to say," 
 was the reply. " A short time since I thought I had brought 
 to a better state of mind a man who had attempted to murdera 
 woman and had been condemned to death. He showed great 
 signs of contrition after the sentence was passed upon him, 
 and I thought I could observe the dawnings of grace upon his 
 soul. I gave him a Bible, and he was most assiduous in the 
 study of it, frequently quoting passages from it which he said 
 convinced him of the heinousness of his offense. The man 
 gave altogether such a promise of reformation, and of a change 
 of heart and life, that I exerted myself to the utmost, and ob- 
 tained for him such a commutation of his sentence as would 
 enable him soon to begin the world again, and as I hoped with 
 a happier result. I called to inform him of my success. His 
 gratitude knew no bounds ; he said I was his preserver, his 
 deliverer. ' And here,' he added, as he grasped my hand in 
 parting, 'here is your Bible. I may as well return it to you, 
 for I hope that I shall never want it again.' " 
 
 SOME OF HARNESS'S ANECDOTES. 
 
 A country rector, coming up to preach at Oxford in his 
 turn, complained to Dr. Routh, the venerable Principal of 
 Maudlin, that the remuneration was very inadequate, consider- 
 ing the travelling expenses, and the labor necessary for the
 
 SOME OF HARNESS'S ANECDOTES. 249 
 
 composition of the discourse. " How much did they give 
 you ? " inquired Dr. Routh. " Only five pounds," was the 
 reply. " Only five pounds ? " repeated the doctor. " Why, I 
 would not have preached that sermon for fifty." 
 
 At a dinner party a somewhat dull couple, who affected 
 literature, informed their friend that they were going to visit 
 the city of Minerva. Mr. Harness, who happened to be sit- 
 ting next to the humorous Jekyll, heard him mutter to himself, 
 " To the Greeks foolishness." 
 
 The Bishop of Derry was disputing with a Roman Catholic 
 priest about purgatory. " Well, my lord," replied the priest 
 in conclusion, " you may go farther and fare worse." 
 
 Jones, the tailor, was asked by a customer who thought 
 much of his cut, to go down and have some shooting with him 
 in the country. Among the party was the Duke of Northum- 
 berland. " Well, Mr. Jones," observed his Grace, " I 'm glad 
 to see that you are becoming a sportsman. What sort of gun 
 do you shoot with ? " " Oh, with a double-breasted one, your 
 Grace," was the reply. 
 
 Speaking of Brummell, Mr. Harness remarked that many 
 of the dandies of his time were men of wit, and not mere 
 clothes-horses. He remembered a party standing to admire 
 a sunset where the orb of day was departing in a golden glory. 
 " Does it very well, does n't he ? " observed Brummell. On 
 another occasion Brummell was walking with a friend past 
 the newly erected bronze statue in Hanover Square. " Well," 
 said his friend, " I never thought Pitt had been so tall a man." 
 " Nor so green a one," added Brummell. Belvoir Castle was 
 at that time very famous for its hospitalities. So large was 
 the number of invitations that people used to come and go 
 almost without the knowledge of the duke. When one set 
 had left, another succeeded as a matter of course, without 
 waiting for any formal invitation. Brummell was among those 
 who enjoyed these privileges. On one occasion a friend went 
 down to Belvoir, and as usual applied for an apartment. 
 " There are none vacant," replied the housekeeper. " None 
 vacant ! " returned the dismayed visitor ; " how can that be ? I
 
 250 WILLIAM HARNESS. 
 
 know that Mr. Brummell came up to town yesterday." "Yes, 
 sir," replied the lady, "but he took the key along with him." 
 
 Having consorted with so many of the most brilliant wits 
 for half a century, Mr. Harness had heard so many racy -say- 
 ings, that it was difficult to produce any jeu (Tesprit which 
 seemed to him really original. On one occasion (when he had 
 been dining in company with the Bishop of Oxford and Mr. 
 Gladstone) I inquired how he enjoyed his privilege, and what 
 was the character of the intellectual banquet ? " Well," he 
 replied, " after dinner the gentlemen began to relate anec- 
 dotes, and, to say the truth, I don't think I ever heard so many 
 stale ' Joe Millers ' in my life."
 
 GEORGE HODDER.
 
 GEORGE HODDER. 
 
 DOUGLAS JERROLD. 
 
 jjEIGH HUNT, in his memoir of Lord Byron, speaks 
 of the first time he ever saw the poet ; but he re- 
 calls the fact in a manner which critics have not 
 hesitated to condemn as at variance with good taste. 
 I hope, therefore, that when I mention the circumstances un- 
 der which I first saw the late Douglas Jerrold I shall only be 
 recording an incident which the great wit himself, or his 
 biographer and son, William Blanchard Jerrold, would hardly 
 fail to smile at good-hum oredly. 
 
 I had, a few months previously, become the intimate asso- 
 ciate of Henry Mayhew, who has long since gained for him- 
 self a well-known name in the roll of literary worthies, and 
 who had but just achieved a privilege he had long sought, 
 namely, that of being admitted to the friendship of Douglas 
 Jerrold. Henry Mayhew was then living next door to the 
 Colosseum, in Albany Street, Regent's Park, and was con- 
 stantly engaged in experiments with an electric battery, which 
 were fraught with some danger, and once had the effect of 
 producing an explosion, which created no little alarm amongst 
 the neighbors. In order to be well protected against the mis- 
 chievous influence of the chemicals used in his scientific in- 
 vestigations, he was accustomed to wear an entire suit of some 
 black material, highly glazed and loosely made. On one occa- 
 sion he had asked me to come to his house to see some of his
 
 254 GEORGE ff ODDER. 
 
 experiments, and I too gladly availed myself of the invitation, 
 though I had no idea at the time that I (a mere stripling under 
 twenty years of age) should then have the gratification of 
 meeting an author whose writings in the " New Monthly 
 Magazine " I had read admiringly, and whose plays I was 
 bold enough to think (as, indeed, I still think) were among 
 the most charming productions of our dramatic literature. To 
 my great delight, however, I had not been in the room many 
 minutes before I was introduced to Douglas Jerrold, who was 
 flitting about with that peculiar restlessness of eye, speech, 
 and demeanor, which was among his most marked character- 
 istics. I confess I was not surprised to find him a man of 
 small stature, as I had heard before that his proportions were 
 rather those of Tydeus than of Alcides ; but I was a little as- 
 tonished when I saw in the author of " Black-eyed Susan," 
 " The Rent- Day," and " The Wedding Gown " (all of which 
 pieces and many others he had then produced), an amount ol 
 boyish gayety and a rapidity of movement which one could 
 hardly expect from a writer who had risen to high rank as a 
 moralist and censor. 
 
 As a matter of course, a friendly interchange of jokes took 
 place ; for Henry Mayhew, though young, had shown, by his 
 farce of " The Wandering Minstrel," and other kindred works, 
 that a keen sense of wit and humor was among his intellect- 
 ual qualities ; and after a few satirical allusions on Jerrold's 
 part to what he obviously thought the visionary nature of 
 Henry Mayhew's occupation, he turned suddenly upon the 
 ambitious experimentalist (whose highly polished clothing had 
 caused him much amusement), and exclaimed, " Why, you 
 look like an advertisement of Warren's blacking ! " l It is not 
 for me to say whether this little jeu (f esprit was of the most 
 brilliant order of joking, but I am at least bound to state that 
 the rapid flash produced its natural effect, and no one laughed 
 more heartily than Jerrold himself ; for it was a doctrine of 
 
 1 Thi mot has ben published by Blanchard Jen-old in his Wit and Opinions of 
 DougLn Jtrrold; but inasmuch as he received it from me, I Khali not be accused of 
 plagiarism ; and I give it precisely as it occurred.
 
 DOUGLAS JERROLD. 255 
 
 his, as it was of Charles Lamb, that a man had a perfect right 
 to laugh at his own jest. 1 
 
 From that time forth I saw much of Douglas Jerrold, and 
 few had better or more frequent opportunities of observing 
 the kindliness of his nature, and the pleasure he took in per- 
 forming offices of friendship for literary aspirants in whom he 
 felt an interest. As to his many good sayings, so slight was 
 his estimate of their possible effect, that even friendship 
 seemed to have no charm against the shaft, and hence it be- 
 came a stereotyped phrase that Jerrold was always " bitter " 
 an accusation which gave him so much pain that he more 
 than once, in his writings, made it the subject of earnest dep- 
 recation. Against this charge of bitterness his son aptly vin- 
 dicates him. He says : " Although Douglas Jerrold often 
 said bitter things, even of his friends, this bitterness never 
 lost him a friend ; for to all men who knew him personally, he 
 was valued as a kind and hearty man ; he sprang ever eagerly 
 to the side even of a passing acquaintance who needed a kind- 
 ness. He might possibly speak something keenly barbed on 
 a grave occasion ; but his help would be substantial and his 
 sympathy not the less hearty. For with him a witty view of 
 men and things forced itself upon his mind so continually and 
 irresistibly, and with a vividness and power so intense, that 
 sarcasm flashed from his lips even when he was deeply 
 moved. He knew that his subjection to the dominant faculty 
 of his mind had given him a reputation in the world for ill- 
 nature ; and he writhed under this imputation, for he felt how 
 little he deserved it." It is quite unnecessary for me to con- 
 firm this statement by any words of my own, but I shall select 
 from a correspondence which is now before me two letters of 
 Jerrold's in order to show how tenderly considerate he was 
 for the feelings of a friend under the most delicate circum- 
 
 1 Shakespeare expresses himself to a different effect, when he says : 
 
 " A jest's prosperity lies in the ear 
 Of him that hears it, never in the tongue 
 Of him that makes it." 
 
 Love's Labor's Lost.
 
 256 GEORGE HODDER. 
 
 stances. Moreover, the letters are strongly characteristic of 
 Jerrold's laconic and forcible style. The first is an answer to 
 an invitation I had just sent him to be present at my wedding, 
 and is as follows : 
 
 "Sefittmlter 3*1, 185]. 
 
 " DEAR GEORGE, Don't you put yourself out of your way 
 to be embarrassed by too many visitors. I '11 see you when 
 you come back, in your bran-new fetters. Meanwhile, I wish 
 you both all happiness. " Yours faithfully, 
 
 "D. JERROLD." 
 
 The second letter is dated in March, 1857, four years and 
 a half afterwards, and refers to the death of my dear wife : 
 
 " DEAR GEORGE, I have just heard from my daughter of 
 your terrible bereavement. Believe me that I sympathize with 
 you most deeply. Though knowing personally but too little 
 of your dear wife, I know enough to feel that your loss must 
 be dreadful. But sorrow is the penalty we pay for life. For 
 the sake of the dear child you must bear up and wrestle with 
 your affliction. 
 
 " Believe me sincerely yours, 
 
 " DOUGLAS JERROLD." 
 
 That Jerrold's friends were many is sufficiently proved by 
 the fact that in the various social clubs he established or as- 
 sisted in establishing he always had the support and coopera- 
 tion of men who knew him for his private worth as well as his 
 public usefulness, and who were glad to belong to a society of 
 which he was, by universal consent, the head and front. Not 
 that he ever assumed to himself a dominating position, or that 
 he wished it to be supposed that he possessed any special 
 power of attraction in his personal characteristics ; but he 
 was essentially, as he called it, a " clubable man," and had 
 the faculty of promoting good fellowship to an extent which 
 few men have been able to inspire. Of the clubs he set afloat 
 and gave names to, within my own recollection, I particularly 
 call to mind those which he christened respectively " Hooks
 
 DOUGLAS JERROLD. 257 
 
 and Eyes" and " Our Club " the former holding its weekly 
 meetings at the " Albion," in Russell Street. Covent Garden, 
 and the latter at Clunn's, in the Piazza, Covent Garden. 1 Of 
 the members of those clubs (one of which grew out of the 
 other) there are many still living who will gladly vouch for the 
 fact that he tuned the first instrument in the band that he 
 gave the key-note to their joviality, and that the company con- 
 tinued to look up to him as the ruling spirit in their social rev- 
 els. Apropos of clubs, it may be here stated that Jerrold 
 was so pleased with the success of his " Chronicles of Clover- 
 nook," and so impressed with the poetic sound and the lasting 
 popularity of the name " Clovernook ! " that although it 
 can scarcely be called more than a fragment, he often declared 
 his belief that it had a better chance of reaching the hands of 
 future generations than the rest of his books. Sharing in this 
 conviction, and wishing to pay a tribute to his father's memory, 
 Blanchard Jerrold, some few years after his death, endeavored, 
 in conjunction with a select body of friends, to raise a sum of 
 money, in shares, to purchase a freehold in the country, within 
 a few miles of London, for the purpose of establishing a rural 
 retreat, in the shape of a club (to be called " the Clovernook "), 
 to which its members might resort when anxious to escape 
 from the cares and responsibilities of London life. The pros- 
 pectus of this club I have not before me at the present moment, 
 but having been its honorary secretary, I have in my possession 
 several letters referring to it, and I transcribe a portion of one 
 of them, because it emanates from a gentleman who was well 
 qualified to form a judgment upon the subject. The letter is 
 from John Cordy Jeaffreson, the author of " Crewe Rise," 
 "Olive Blake's Good Work," "A Book about Doctors," etc. 
 He says : 
 
 " The Clovernook Club has my warmest wishes for its 
 
 'Many years before this period Jerrold was an active member of a club, called 
 "The Mulberries," which was held at the Wrekin Tavern, in the neighborhood of 
 Covent Garden, and in which a regulation was established that " some paper, or 
 poem, or conceit bearing upon Shakespeare should be contributed by each member," 
 the general title being " Mulberry Leaves." 
 
 17
 
 2$8 GEORGE I/ODDER. 
 
 success, and I hope one day to be a member of it. I also fully 
 appreciate the compliment paid me by its promoters in placing 
 my name on the committee ; but I cannot, without knowing 
 more exactly than I do at present the pecuniary arrangements 
 and prospects of the undertaking, consent to be a shareholder. 
 Although I am a literary man. I have not said ' Cood-by ' to 
 Caution and Prudence, and do not wish to render myself liable 
 to be called upon to pay a large sum for expenses during the 
 first or second year of the Club's existence and yet in this 
 unpleasant position I may find myself if I join in the responsi- 
 bilities of an affair the probable durability of which I know 
 nothing about. On one occasion, and one only, Mr. in- 
 vited me to join the Club, and I then stated that I heartily ap- 
 proved the scheme, and should like to be a member, but, as I 
 was very likely going ere long to India, I did not think I should 
 invest in a share." 
 
 Whether Mr. Jeaffreson's sly allusion to the fact that, al- 
 though he was a literary man, he was not without caution and 
 prudence, produced any immediate effect with intending mem- 
 bers and shareholders need hardly be stated here ; suffice it 
 that the promoters of the scheme saw that it would be difficult 
 to obtain the desired support from the only persons to whom 
 they could wisely and conscientiously appeal, and therefore 
 they very properly abandoned it before any material expense 
 was incurred. 
 
 It was at the two clubs above mentioned the "Hooks 
 and Eyes" and "Our Club" that Douglas Jerrold was 
 known to have said many of the best things that are recorded 
 of him ; but as the great majority of these have been pub- 
 lished in " The Wit and Opinions of Douglas Jerrold," I need 
 not now seek them out, although it is not to be supposed that 
 the son was enabled to string together all the gems that re- 
 flected the flashing light of his father. The indefatigable lit- 
 erary explorer, Mr. John Timbs, has devoted several pages of 
 his book on " Club Life " to a chapter on " Douglas Jerrold's 
 Clubs," in which he has adroitly introduced much of the rich 
 fruit that fell around the table when Jerrold was present. In
 
 DOUGLAS JERROLD. 259 
 
 point of fact, the wise and witty sayings of Jerrold have found 
 so many chroniclers, in various shapes and forms, that it would 
 perhaps be in vain to give any important instances which 
 would not at once lead to the exclamation, " I have seen that 
 before ! " 
 
 As a specimen of the singularly laconic style of Jerrold's 
 letters a style which he has been heard to say, jocularly, 
 that he adopted because he felt, when writing a private epis- 
 tle, he was " not going to be paid for it " the following note, 
 received from him a few days before Christmas Day, may be 
 appropriately quoted : 
 
 "SUNDAY EVENING. Putney. 
 
 " DEAR HODDER, Will you dine with me on Xmas Day ? 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 " D. J." 
 
 The recollection of my long intercourse with Douglas Jer- 
 rold brings to my mind so many agreeable pictures in which 
 he forms the most prominent figure, that I am tempted to 
 dwell for a short time longer upon this part of my task, and to 
 relate such of my experiences as relate especially to himself, 
 unconnected, except in a small degree, with other men of lit- 
 erary distinction. 
 
 One of my earliest and most agreeable reminiscences of 
 Jerrold brings me to a period which at once suggests many 
 occurrences of peculiar interest (as will presently be seen) to 
 those who, in their estimate of public characters, would gladly 
 acquire some knowledge of their private tastes and virtues. 
 It was in the year 1841 ; and Jerrold had for some time domi- 
 ciled himself and his family at a snug little villa at Boulogne, 
 in the Rue D'Alger, Cape'cure, which, as "all England " knows 
 (for all England is supposed to be familiar with Boulogne), is 
 on " the other side of the water " from the town proper ; his 
 motive for residing in France being to educate his children 
 two girls (the elder of whom afterwards became Mrs. Henry 
 Mayhew) and three boys. William Blanchard Jerrold, the eld- 
 est son, was at that period a rosy-cheeked stripling of about
 
 260 GEORGE HODDER. 
 
 fourteen years of age ; and I am glad to think that, as time 
 passed away, my acquaintance with him ripened into a sub- 
 stantial and enduring friendship. Jerrold had often written to 
 friends in London, apprising them of the comfortable quarters 
 he was housed in, and inviting them to partake of his hospi- 
 tality. Amongst those who were thus favored was myself, and 
 I well remember the cordial terms in which the invitation was 
 conveyed, and the many temptations held out to me to un- 
 dergo " the perils of the Channel " for the first time. The 
 prospect of a fortnight's sojourn under the roof of such a com- 
 panion as Douglas Jerrold was much too tempting to be re- 
 sisted ; and the pleasure I felt was enhanced when I received 
 a letter from him, stating that, if I came on a given day at a 
 specified time, the tide would enable me to arrive at Boulogne 
 at an hour when he could meet me on the port. I went by 
 " long sea," as it was called that is to say, by steamboat 
 direct from London Bridge to the harbor of this picturesque 
 and enlivening watering-place. The day was a Sunday in the 
 month of August, and the vessel reached its destination be- 
 tween two and three o'clock in the afternoon. The weather 
 was lovely in the extreme, and the port was thronged with 
 people, all more or less anxiously looking for the arrival of the 
 boat. The scene was altogether the most perfect instance of 
 cheerful bustle and animation I had ever witnessed ; and I 
 was disposed to wonder how it was that, in the midst of so 
 much attractive excitement, an author could find sufficient re- 
 pose for the due exercise of his brain ; for Jerrold was at that 
 time engaged in many important literary undertakings. 
 
 Long before I was enabled to leave the deck of the vessel, I 
 descried, to my infinite delight, Jerrold standing as near to the 
 landing-place as the crowd would permit him ; and the moment 
 he saw me he gave me such a " sweet smile of welcome " that 
 I could but feel what a care-dispelling visit fortune had placed 
 in store for me. Then came the hearty shake of the hand, and 
 the joke far, far indeed from a "bitter" one and the delay 
 during the tedious ceremony at the custom-house ; for in those 
 days the passport system was carried out with the most pro-
 
 DOUGLAS JERROLD. 26 1 
 
 yoking determination. Arrived at Jerrold's dwelling he ex- 
 claimed, as we entered, placing himself in a sort of theatrical 
 attitude, " The bandit's haunt ! Let us see what fare we have 
 within ! " I very soon found, however, that his habits were 
 by no means of a melodramatic cast, and that he was sur- 
 rounded by every comfort, not to say luxury, which could be 
 desired by a contented and united English family abroad. His 
 children were home from school that day, and I was much 
 impressed by the pride and pleasure he seemed to feel in intro- 
 ducing them, and in pointing out jocosely their several charac- 
 teristics. 
 
 He occupied himself " at his desk " (as he always expressed 
 it when speaking of his mental employment) in the morning ; 
 and in the afternoon he was ready for a walk along the sands, 
 or an excursion into the market-place to amuse himself with 
 the fruit-vendors, or for a jaunt into the country to one of the 
 many attractive little villages which lie within a few miles' dis- 
 tance of Boulogne. A dip in the sea his native element, as 
 he sometimes called it was a relaxation to which he was 
 especially addicted ; but he did not care to indulge it where 
 the multitude were wont to assemble for the same object. On 
 one occasion I was walking with him at sunset along the 
 beach, in the outskirts of the town, when the tide was unusu- 
 ally low, and the sands were as smooth and unruffled as a 
 drawing-room carpet. The charm of the weather seemed to 
 absorb Jerrold's attention, for the evening was as calm and 
 placid as the countenance of a sleeping infant, and he made 
 frequent allusions to the atmosphere, which, he said, was 
 such as he had never experienced "out of France." At length, 
 fixing his eye upon the almost motionless sea, and inhaling the 
 fresh air as if he were sipping nectar, he suddenly exclaimed : 
 " How lovely the water looks ! Egad, I '11 have a dip ! " and 
 in scarcely more time than is occupied by the pantomime- 
 clown in making his inevitable " change," he stuck his stick in 
 the sand, placed his hat upon the top and his clothes around 
 it, and ran into the water with a nimbleness which he could 
 hardly have surpassed in the midshipman days of his youth.
 
 262 GEORGE HODDER. 
 
 During this visit to Douglas Jerrold, I made the acquaint- 
 ance of Mr. and Mrs. Alfred Wigan, the now celebrated, but 
 then comparatively unknown, dramatic artists, who had been 
 living for some weeks at Boulogne, and with whom I enjoyed 
 a daily companionship. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Wigan were frequent guests at the house of 
 Douglas Jerrold, who entertained a strong opinion in regard 
 to the dramatic capabilities of the former, and was resolved to 
 promote his advancement by every means at his command, 
 although up to that period Mr. Wigan had really done nothing 
 to indicate the possession of that histrionic power which he has 
 since displayed. During his stay at Boulogne, Jerrold wrote 
 that most charming of serio-comic dramas, " The Prisoner of 
 War," and also the comedy of " Gertrude's Cherries," in which 
 he introduced a character called Alcibiade Blague (a Frenchman 
 speaking broken English), which he had studiously designed 
 for Alfred Wigan, and was resolved that no one but that gen- 
 tleman should play it. The piece was ultimately produced at 
 Covent Garden Theatre, but with a degree of success which 
 can only be pronounced moderate, although it was brimful of 
 the characteristic charms of Jerrold's dramatic muse, ami Mr. 
 Wigan achieved high distinction by his personation in the part 
 so generously assigned to him. 1 "The Prisoner of War," 
 which was produced at Drury Lane Theatre in February, 1842, 
 met with a different fate, for it proved to be one of the most 
 entertaining and effective pieces that ever came from Jerrold's 
 pen, comprising as it did a delightful admixture of comedy and 
 pathos, and being performed by such artists as Mr. Thelps, 
 Mr. James Anderson, Mr. Hudson, Mr. Selby, Mr. Morris 
 Barnett, Mr. George Bennett, Mr. Keeley, Mrs. Keeley, Miss 
 Fortescue, Mrs. C. Jones, Mrs. Selby, etc. It is not a little 
 singular that, proud as Jerrold was and had reason to be of this 
 admirable work, he never saw it played at least during its 
 first season ; but he always expected, he said, that the result 
 
 ' It it difficult to conceive why thin piecr, with many others of the same author** 
 production*, including The Wkitt Milliner, Th* fftart of (Sol.i, etc., ha* not been 
 publi>hed in the collected edition of Jerrold'* comedie* and dramas.
 
 DOUGLAS JERROLD. 263 
 
 would prove as gratifying as it did ; for the sentiment was 
 homely and truthful, and there were two characters in the 
 piece Peter" Pall Mall and Polly Pall Mall, brother and 
 sister represented by Mr. and Mrs. Keeley, which were 
 sufficiently diverting to insure a successful ordeal for even a 
 less meritorious work. 
 
 The reference to this drama in particular naturally leads to 
 the consideration of Douglas Jerrold's dramas in general ; and 
 I cannot but think it a source of national regret that such 
 thoroughly original and legitimate productions as " Time 
 Works Wonders," " Bubbles of the Day," " The Rent Day," 
 " The Schoolfellows," " The Housekeeper," " The Wedding 
 Gown," " Doves in a Cage," " The Prisoner of War," " Re- 
 tired from Business." etc., should not be occasionally revived 
 on the metropolitan stage, for the charm of reading them is so 
 great that one yearns to see them assume a substantial form 
 and color. Setting aside the more important plays in five 
 acts " Time Works Wonders" l and " Bubbles of the Day " 
 it has always appeared to me that Jerrold's dramatic works are 
 the best efforts of his genius, combining as they do the most 
 concise and salutary plots, and an infinite knowledge of the 
 secret springs of character, with the most terse, yet impres- 
 sive dialogue ; and it is certainly sad to think that " Black- 
 Eyed Susan "(the extraordinary merit of which, strange to say, 
 he could never be induced to admit) should be the only one of 
 his pieces which holds its due position before the public, 
 while encouragement is given to a class of composition which 
 never did, and never can, belong to the " literature " of the 
 drama. Jerrold's dramas still " live," but, unhappily, not in 
 the full knowledge of those who would rejoice in becoming 
 more practically acquainted with them than they can possibly 
 be through the unaided process of reading. 
 
 To return to the domiciliary habits of Jerrold at his little 
 cottage at Boulogne-sur-Mer. In the simplicity of his heart 
 
 1 When Jerrold first told me he had finished this comedy he called it " School- 
 girl Love," and I made free to remark that I did not think the title sufficiently im- 
 posing for a five-act play.
 
 264 GEORGE HODDER. 
 
 (for it is a trite proverb that the greatest minds can find pleasure 
 in the smallest diversions) he had a most amiable predilec- 
 tion for giving juvenile parties that is to say, parties con- 
 sisting of his two daughters and certain of their school com- 
 panions ; and on those occasions he included in the programme 
 of the evening's amusement "acting charades," in which the 
 principal performers were himself, Mr. and Mrs. Wigan, and 
 M. Bonnefoy, the preceptor of his three boys. With what 
 impulsive delight he entered into the spirit of those entertain- 
 ments may be imagined by those who are not unmindful of the 
 energy he displayed when subjecting himself to the ordeal of 
 the stage ; and they may also conceive the intelligent zeal and 
 earnestness with which Mr. Wigan (who was then patiently 
 awaiting the chance of showing the " metal " that was in him) 
 performed his part in the extempore representations. But the 
 greatest charm of all to be found in those merry soirtes was 
 gathered from the graceful agility of the juvenile ladies, who 
 would commence a dance in the drawing-room and continue it 
 in the garden, under the light of the moon " sweet mistress " 
 of the ceremonies, as she was " of the sky." The entire bevy 
 of young damsels being dressed in white muslin, the effect of 
 their evolutions, as they tripped round the green sward at the 
 back of the house, was certainly suggestive of a scene from 
 one of those ever-captivating fairy stories, which are the de- 
 light of age no less than of youth, and which, it is hoped, may 
 always recur to us at our seasons of rejoicing. Many years 
 have elapsed since those happy times, and I have often re- 
 verted to them with a memory full of gratitude for the enjoy- 
 ment 1 then experienced, and have asked myself the question 
 " Will such days or nights ever come to us again ? " Or is it 
 that, by some singular ordination of Providence, we are prone 
 to look at the past with a higher sense of thankfulness than at 
 the present ? In any case, I shall ever be keenly alive to the 
 conviction that at no period of my career have I partaken of 
 more unalloyed pleasure more innocent and healthful amuse 
 ment, than I enjoyed under the " roof-tree " of Douglas Jerrold, 
 at Boulogne-sur-Mer.
 
 DOUCLAS JERROLD. 26$ 
 
 Some years afterwards Jerrold rented a cottage in the 
 neighborhood of Herne Bay ; and there also I received, under 
 similar circumstances, his most agreeable hospitality ; but, 
 blessed as he was with all those domestic comforts which suf- 
 ficed to gratify his moderate aspirations, the absence of that 
 picturesque element belonging to the French watering-place 
 prevented his indulging that perfect abandon which he felt 
 under the sunny skies of the Pas de Calais. Still he was 
 ever the most pleasant and attentive of hosts, as Mrs. Jerrold 
 was the most thoughtful and considerate of housewives ; and 
 it was noticeable that, so cunningly did the former arrange 
 his few hours' work by rising early in the morning, that he 
 never seemed absent from his guests, who were often some- 
 what numerous at that time. Plans would be arranged daily 
 for drives or pedestrian excursions to Margate or Canterbury, 
 or to some sequestered nook lying far away in the country ; 
 and on those occasions Jerrold would infuse new life into the 
 party, by his never-ceasing glee, and by the rapidity with which 
 he seized every possible opportunity of "tuning his merry 
 note " to the utterance of a jest or anecdote that sprang out 
 of the conversation, or from some fleeting material which his 
 quickness of perception had enabled him to discover by the 
 wayside. 
 
 One of the most agreeable and most memorable of the ex- 
 cursions now referred to was a jaunt by private conveyance to 
 Whitstable, the object being to eat oysters fresh from the sea. 
 The party on that occasion consisted of Jerrold, John Leech, 
 Henry Mayhew (who was then engaged in the preparation of 
 an English dictionary on a very elaborate scale, and had taken 
 up his abode in a quiet, rural spot, with a view to pursuing his 
 labors), Kenny Meadows, and myself. The oysters were 
 pronounced to be such as " nobody " had ever tasted before ; 
 and as they were supplied to us at less than half the cost that 
 they have reached of late years, the quantity consumed was 
 sufficient to justify a general recourse to some obviously- 
 smuggled Schiedam, which caused us all to smack our lips 
 with approving gusto, and which found such charms for one of
 
 266 GEORGE HODDER. 
 
 the party (who shall not be described by name), that he 
 achieved the feat of imbibing, on the return journey, under a 
 scorching July sun, the contents of a full flask. And he lives 
 to tell the tale ! That he did not present himself at dinner 
 that day may well be believed ; and much did he lose by his 
 absence, for Jerrold was in one of his most humorous moods, 
 and managed without any abnormal effort to keep the table in 
 a roar ; but, it must be confessed, at the expense of our val- 
 iant spirit-drinker, whose prowess had rendered every allusion 
 to his name a source of unavoidable merriment. It was dui- 
 ing Jerrold's residence at Herne Bay that he conceived and 
 planned many of the best-known emanations from his pen, in- 
 cluding " The Chronicles of Clovernook," already referred to ; 
 and other attractive contributions to the " Illuminated Maga- 
 zine," which had been started not long previously under his 
 auspices and those of Mr. Ebenezer Landells, the engraver. 
 The duty of sub-editor was assigned to me, and in that capaq- 
 ity I was called upon to be the medium of communication be- 
 tween the artists and the authors, and to supply the former 
 with wood-blocks as well as subjects for their work. The 
 practical responsibility of arranging the contents of each num- 
 ber also devolved upon me ; jind, as this brought me in con- 
 tact with contributors who preferred addressing me to inflict- 
 ing their correspondence upon the editor, Douglas Jerrold, I 
 often received letters which possessed an interest beyond that 
 of the passing moment. I copy the following as an example 
 of the unreserved manner in which a writer will place his 
 confidence in one who, if he does not occupy the " editorial 
 chair," has immediate access to it. The letter is from a gen- 
 tleman who had already published two successful novels, 
 and has since written others of corresponding ability and 
 
 power : 
 
 " NOTTINGHAM, May a, 1844. 
 
 " DEAR SIR, Will you be kind enough to ascertain 
 whether the last story I sent to Mr. Jerrold is acceptable or 
 not ? I observe myself absent again this .month, or you 
 would not have been troubled. But the fact is I am one of
 
 DOUGLAS JERROLD. 267 
 
 those unlucky dogs to whom the pen is a dependence, pre- 
 cisely the same thing, you know, as saying my life hangs on a 
 thread ; and, therefore, it is of importance to me that is to 
 the extent of the bread-basket to avoid delay as far as pos- 
 sible in the publication of such papers as may have the luck 
 to meet with approval, or, if not, to have them returned as 
 early as may be convenient. 
 
 " I feel entire reliance upon Mr. Jerrold's kindness and con- 
 sideration for my excuse in making these remarks, because he 
 knows too well how much, at the very best, must be endured 
 by any one like myself and thus situated. But whether, on 
 that account, we deserve any more consideration than your 
 happy and flourishing amateur penman, who feels sufficiently 
 paid by seeing himself in print, is a question upon which, of 
 course, I can offer no opinion. 
 
 " Believe me, very sincerely yours, 
 
 " CHARLES HOOTON." 
 
 As I could not always be present when Jerrold was arrang- 
 ing the contents of the number for the ensuing month, his 
 practice was to send me word by letter the names of the arti- 
 cles he had chosen, and which he desired should be next in 
 order of publication. The following will serve to convey some 
 idea of the fairness with which he dealt out his opinions upon 
 papers submitted to his editorial judgment. It will be seen 
 that the letter refers to an illness from which I was then re- 
 covering, and to other matters of a personal nature, but the 
 main object of his writing was to direct my attention to a de- 
 cision he had come to respecting contributions he had re- 
 ceived for the " Illuminated Magazine." 
 
 " September 9. 
 
 " MY DEAR HODDER, I write after hard morning's work, 
 so write short. I 'm happy to hear you 're recovering. I have 
 no doubt that among us we shall be able to make you some 
 little amends if the San. [Sanatorium] should fail. 1 
 
 " ' The Dwellings of the Poor ' goes in this month. Hos- 
 kins not at all. 
 
 1 The Sanatorium, or Home in Sickness an institution of which I was then secre- 
 tary.
 
 268 GEORGE HODDER. 
 
 " If you return in about ten days, 't will be time enough for 
 index. The Mag. is rising. I have been worked to death for 
 Punch,' having it all on my shoulders, Mark, 1 a Beckett, and 
 Thackeray being away. Nevertheless, last week it went up 
 1,500. " Yours ever truly, 
 
 " D. J." 
 
 Some of the best papers that Jerrold ever wrote for serial 
 publications appeared in this periodical : " Elizabeth and Vic- 
 toria " (a comparison between the social customs and vices of 
 the two reigns) ; " The Order of Poverty ; " " The Old Man 
 at the Gate ; " " The Two Windows ; " " The Folly of the 
 Sword ; " and, above all, " The Chronicles of Clovernook," 
 which he composed under the disadvantage of seriously im- 
 paired health. During the progress of that work he was at- 
 tacked by rheumatism in so aggravated a form that I fre- 
 quently saw him propped up in bed while he prepared a 
 chapter which the printer's boy was waiting below to receive ; 
 and it was really touching to observe the patient endurance he 
 betrayed when engaged in an occupation which necessarily in- 
 creased the pain he was suffering. Whether his sensibilities 
 were quickened by the sad condition he was reduced to, or 
 whether his mind had become so thoroughly imbued with the 
 subject he was treating, that even pain could not prevent his 
 fulfilling his purpose, it is not for me to say ; but certain it 
 is that during that long and severe illness the most poetical 
 thoughts ever kindled in the brain of Jerrold were laid before 
 the world. The body was weakened by suffering, but the 
 light within was unquenched, and the results of his mental 
 vigor at that crisis forcibly illustrate the truth of a theory 
 which he advocated, whenever he heard of any extraordinary 
 achievement by a contemporary whose advanced age would 
 seem to render such achievement impossible that " Genius 
 never dies." 
 
 Indeed, so weak and emaciated had poor Jerrold become at 
 that time that many of his friends began to have serious mis- 
 
 1 Mark Lemon, the editor.
 
 DOUGLAS JERROLD. 269 
 
 givings as to his ultimate recovery ; but (as he was often heard 
 to exclaim in after-days) he took counsel with himself one 
 morning as he endeavored to rise in his bed ; and when he 
 thought of what he had done, and what he hoped to be still 
 capable of doing, he said, "No I am not going to die." 
 That he uttered these words with the same emphasis and 
 vigor which characterize the ejaculations of Uncle Toby in the 
 " Story of Le.fevre " can hardly be suggested ; but he was cer- 
 tainly a man of stern resolve ; and he felt that his health gave 
 signs of improvement, and that he was not doomed to end his 
 days thus prematurely. But whether his health had improved 
 or not, such was the dominant force of his will that he deter- 
 mined to undergo the ordeal of the cold-water cure at Great 
 Malvern ; and he allowed himself to be carried from his bed 
 to the conveyance that was in readiness to remove him from 
 his home. He was absent, I think, about three weeks ; and 
 on his return his health, though not perfectly restored, was 
 much invigorated, for the root of the disease seemed to have 
 been destroyed, and he was capable of resuming his literary 
 labors and the editorship of the " Illuminated Magazine," 
 which, as he had reason to believe, was " rising " in circula- 
 tion. 
 
 The principle upon which this magazine was conducted 
 afforded an illustration among the many which came within 
 my knowledge of the exceptional readiness shown by Jerrold 
 to allow young authors, who had never before " seen them- 
 selves in print," to make their debut under his editorial aus- 
 pices. There are many writers now holding prominent posi- 
 tions before the public whose names were totally unknown, 
 either to fortune or to fame, until Douglas Jerrold, with a vivid 
 appreciation of the merit that was in them, gave them an op- 
 portunity of starting on the career they aspired to. The pages 
 of the "Illuminated" were generously thrown open to "all 
 comers " whose contributions presented sufficient evidence of 
 talent to Jerrold's discriminating eye ; and, what is more, he 
 permitted them to affix their names to their articles if they 
 were so disposed, for he could not see the justice of one all-
 
 270 GEORGE HODDER. 
 
 powerful writer keeping his own name prominently forward 
 while those of his collaborateurs were suppressed. 
 
 The " purpose " of the " Illuminated Magazine," as stated 
 by Jerrold in a preface to the first volume, is thus de- 
 scribed : 
 
 " It has been the wish of the proprietors of this work to 
 speak to the MASSES of the people ; and whilst sympathizing 
 with their deeper and sterner wants, to offer to them those 
 graces of art and literature which have too long been held the 
 exclusive right of those of happier fortunes." 
 
 That the magazine contained many articles especially 
 adapted to the " masses " can scarcely be averred, nor was 
 Jerrold's style of writing (at least in those days, when he had 
 not yet thrown himself into the arena of newspaper contro- 
 versy) such as could be said to appeal successfully to the com- 
 prehension of the " great uneducated ; " but his heart and 
 sympathies kept him their firm champion, although his nature 
 was so fastidious that his friends were often known to say to 
 him, " Jerrold, you 're a thorough aristocrat in the main." 
 
 The magazine came into existence in the month of May, 
 1843, and terminated its career at the close of the third vol- 
 ume (each volume extending over a period of six months). 
 The final number contained the following : 
 
 " POSTSCRIPT BY THE EDITOR. 
 
 " With this number closes the third volume of the ' Illumi- 
 nated Magazine,' and with it close the duties of the present 
 editor. In the progress of his task he has received so much 
 pleasure and encouragement from the sympathies and best 
 wishes of many, that he cannot lay down the pen without thus 
 formally acknowledging them. Trusting that the brevity with 
 which this is done will not impugn its sincerity, the editor 
 as editor bid? his readers a respectful farewell ; but not 
 without the hope of again meeting them in these pages. 
 
 "DOUGLAS JERROLD. 
 
 "Stft. 97/4"
 
 DOUGLAS JERROLD. 2/1 
 
 The limited career of this work was doubtless owing to its 
 unwieldly size, for it can scarcely be supposed that a monthly 
 periodical, whose page presented almost as many superficial 
 inches as that of the " Illustrated London News," would be 
 regarded as a convenient form for the ultimate operation of 
 binding. The work was admirably printed ; the illustrations 
 were engraved by E. Landells, and designed by the best 
 artists of the day in this branch of the pictorial art, including 
 Kenny Meadows, Leech, Hine, Prior, Harvey, Henning, Gil- 
 bert, etc. ; the letter-press comprised some of the most reada- 
 ble productions of the day, both in poetry and in prose, and, 
 above all, one of the leading attractions was the series of 
 papers by the editor, under the title of " Chronicles of Clo- 
 vernook," which, as previously stated in this volume, Jerrold 
 estimated as his masterpiece in descriptive and imaginative 
 writing. It is abundantly clear, therefore, that the cause of 
 its downfall must not be looked for in the contents, but in the 
 unwillingness of the reading world to be diverted from the 
 more handy magazines to which it had become familiarized. 
 
 Not very long after the extinction of the " Illuminated Mag- 
 azine," Messrs. Bradbury and Evans (who by this time had 
 so allied themselves to Jerrold that he seldom published any- 
 thing except under their auspices) produced a monthly periodi- 
 cal, bearing Jerrold's name as the editor, with a desire to re- 
 sume, as far as possible, the same character of articles for 
 which the former work was especially distinguished. The 
 new publication was called " Douglas Jerrold 's Shilling Mag- 
 azine," and, when all preliminaries were settled, he addressed 
 me the following note in reference to Dr. Hitchman, whose 
 name I recall with much satisfaction : 
 
 'Nov. ii tk, '44. 
 
 " DEAR HODDER, I arrived back last night. My object 
 in now writing is that you should speak to Mr. H. (I forget 
 his name), the surgeon of Sanatorium, telling him that I have 
 a magazine coming out on the ist of January (the thing is de- 
 cided), and that I shall be very glad if he will furnish an ar-
 
 272 GEORGE HODDER. 
 
 tide of the same nature to his last. The matter must be of 
 \\\t present day, and social in its application. 
 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 " D. J." 
 
 I need not say that the wish of my correspondent was strict- 
 ly obeyed by me, and also, I believe, by the learned doctor. 
 
 In the new magazine, which in point of size was the very 
 opposite of the " Illuminated," Jerrold published his " St. Giles 
 and St. James," "Twiddlethumb Town," and "The Hedgehog 
 Papers ; " but as I was in no way associated with him in re- 
 gard to the periodical, I shall not attempt to enlarge upon its 
 characteristics, further than to draw attention to a somewhat 
 romantic incident which I communicated to him, and which it 
 was his intention to introduce into that work if its career had 
 not been prematurely brought to a close. It was some time 
 after the " Shilling Magazine " was projected that a now de- 
 ceased sister of mine, having lost her husband in one of the 
 Indian wars, was about to return to this country. She had 
 made her way -from the seat of warfare to Calcutta, there to 
 embark on one of the steamers leaving that city. Hearing, 
 however, that a sailing vessel, under the command of one of 
 her brothers, Captain Charles Hodder, was shortly to arrive at 
 Madras, she prolonged her stay at Calcutta, and ultimately 
 made her way to the former city. There she was detained 
 several weeks, as she was resolved to return to England in 
 her brother's ship, and the money she expended in conse- 
 quence of the delay was actually a matter of serious consider- 
 ation, seeing that she had not long lost her husband, and that 
 she would not be able to complete her pecuniary arrange- 
 ments until her arrival in London. 
 
 At length came the day of sailing, and my sister (who had 
 her only child with her, a boy some twelve months old) was the 
 sole female passenger ; but she was so overjoyed at the idea 
 of returning home under the care and guidance of her own 
 brother, that she was fully reconciled to her position, and 
 indeed she felt some little compensation for the sad bereave-
 
 DOUGLAS JERROLD. 2?$ 
 
 ment she had lately sustained. One evening, while still skirt- 
 ing the Coromandel coast, the vessel struck upon a reef, and 
 my brother found that she was doomed to be a total wreck. 
 Hastening down to his sister's cabin, and throwing his arms 
 round her neck, he exclaimed, " Margaret, the ship's ashore, 
 and I am a ruined man ! " She never murmured, nor gave 
 way to those hysterical shrieks in which the tender sex too 
 often seek relief in their misfortunes, but affectionately em- 
 braced her brother, and implored him to hope for the best. 
 She then placed what money she possessed at his disposal, 
 and begged that he would resort to it in case of need. Nor 
 did she dream of deserting him, but was heroically resolved 
 to remain with him whatever might betide. It was, however, 
 unadvisible that she should continue on board that night, as 
 there appeared to be no chance of saving the vessel, and the 
 probability was that early in the morning the whole of the 
 crew would be compelled to abandon her. The lady was 
 therefore conveyed ashore with her child, and she lay on the 
 beach all night under the shelter of a capacious umbrella. 
 She had taken with her a necessary supply of provisions, and, 
 from what I understood at the time, the natives endeavored to 
 steal them, for at break of day my brother, in surveying the 
 spot by the aid of his telescope, saw his sister belaboring 
 some two or three black fellows with a formidable weapon she 
 held in her hand. 'But this is only a single instance of the 
 courage and determination she displayed after the melancholy 
 catastrophe, for the abandonment of the vessel was found to 
 be inevitable, and my sister's exemplary fortitude was of great 
 service to her brother in the strait to which he was unhappily 
 reduced. So completely had she fixed her mind upon reach- 
 ing England with him, that she accompanied him by the over- 
 land route (as he was compelled to expedite his return in 
 order to relate the particulars of the wreck to the owners of 
 his vessel), and played a Christian woman's part towards him 
 until she saw him in safety at her own fireside in London. On 
 my recounting this little story to Jerrold'some time afterwards, 
 while sitting tete-a-tete with him at the Cafe" de 1'Europe, in 
 18
 
 274 GEORGE HODDEK. 
 
 the Haymarket, I found I had touched a chord in his sensitive 
 heart ; and when I came to the close, he exclaimed, thump- 
 ing his hand upon the table, as was his wont when his enthu- 
 siasm was aroused, " By G d ! that woman 's a heroine ! 
 There 's a sister for a brother to be proud of ! " He then 
 begged me to sketch out the details of the adventure upon 
 paper ; and I speedily did so. But, for the reason I have al- 
 ready described, his rendering of the story never appeared in 
 print. 
 
 I have spoken of the agreeable intercourse I enjoyed with 
 Douglas Jerrold on the occasion of my first visit to Boulogne 
 a seaport which, although it has been almost the fashion to 
 regard it as an English rather than as a French watering-place, 
 is, to all intents and purposes, as much a constituent part of 
 the great empire of France as any other town lying between 
 the straits of Dover and Paris. At the period just referred to 
 I had no thought of anything beyond pleasure and recreation ; 
 but many years subsequently I visited the same country again 
 with my friend, under circumstances which partook chiefly of 
 a business character. In such high esteem was the name of 
 Jerrold held as the writer of the " Q " articles, which formed 
 the political element of " Punch," that in the beginning of the 
 year 1848 some few gentlemen of small capital tempted him to 
 sanction the starting of a weekly journal in the liberal inter- 
 est, under the title of " Douglas Jerrold's Weekly Newspa- 
 per," himself, of course, the editor ; and the revolution which 
 drove Louis Philippe from the throne occurring shortly after- 
 wards, it was suggested that a powerful impetus might be 
 given to the undertaking by Jerrold visiting Paris, and writing 
 in the midst of the popular disturbances a series of articles 
 from ocular demonstration. 
 
 All arrangements being made for his departure, he proposed 
 that I should accompany him, with a view to assist him by 
 collecting material for the exercise of his pen ; and we arrived 
 in Paris a few days "after the outbreak of the revolutionary 
 movement. To describe the state of Paris at that extraordi-
 
 DOUGLAS JERROLD. 2?$ 
 
 nary crisis would indeed be idle, as the details have long be- 
 come matter of universal history. But I feel bound to revert 
 to that period because it affords me an opportunity of exhib- 
 iting a new phase of Douglas Jerrold's character, though at 
 the same time I should state that the son has recorded in the 
 biography already referred to chiefly indeed from informa- 
 tion supplied by myself some particulars of the father's 
 visit to the French capital. On our arrival in that metropolis 
 many of the streets were rendered totally impassable by the 
 barricades which had been raised throughout the city. The 
 insurrectionary fury had been partially spent ; but the whole 
 populace was in a most disorganized condition ; and so immi- 
 nent was the danger of an entente arising, that the National 
 Guard were in arms at all hours of the day and night, and the 
 peaceful portion of the citizens were constantly disturbed by 
 the sounding of the rappel. In all the public places flags and 
 placards were exhibited, presenting such inscriptions as 
 " Vive la Reforme" " Vive la Garde Naiionale." " A has le 
 Roi ! " " A bas Guizot / " " Vive le peuple ! " etc., while the 
 universal cry was " Libert^ EgalM, Fraterniti" 
 
 Amongst the many excitements in which the people in- 
 dulged was that of planting, in the most frequented streets, 
 "trees of liberty," some of which manifested a disposition to 
 grow, but the great majority were so choked by the surrounding 
 paving-stones that they vainly struggled to exist. All this 
 was abundantly visible to us during the first twenty-four hours 
 of our stay in Paris ; and Jerrold, having once satisfied his 
 eyes as to the general condition of the city, would not have 
 been at all sorry had he been compelled to return home on the 
 day after his arrival. On the second day he sat down in an 
 uncomfortable corner of our private sitting-room, in, if I re- 
 member rightly, the H6tel Bedford, and penned a long letter 
 for his paper ; but gave little or no proof that he was writing 
 from the scene of action. I saw, when he had dispatched his 
 parcel, that he had embarked in an enterprise which was not 
 likely to yield a return commensurate with the outlay, and in 
 the few subsequent attempts he made to fulfill his mission it
 
 2/6 GEORGE HODDER. 
 
 was evident that his mind was not in his work. " After all," 
 he more than once exclaimed, " I might just as well do this in 
 Cheapside or Fleet Street ; " and on my reminding him that 
 I had accompanied him to Paris for the sole purpose of col- 
 lecting "facts" for him, and that I was most willing to carry 
 out that object, he said, somewhat angrily, " D n the facts ! 
 I don't want facts." Whereupon I expressed my regret that I 
 had ever left London, as I did not like the idea of being use- 
 less to him ; and many a time, when I hastened back to the 
 hotel after spending some hours in gathering valuable infor- 
 mation, and thought I should please him by describing what I 
 had seen or learnt, he received me with coldness, and em- 
 phatically declined to accept my proffered aid. I frequently 
 reminded him that he had not yet delivered the letters of in- 
 troduction, which he possessed, to Lamartine, Ledru-Rollin, 
 and other influential persons, either in connection with the 
 Provisional Government, or with some important public de- 
 partment ; but he always evaded the subject, and said he was 
 in no hurry to perform a task which he detested. 
 
 At length I found that he had abandoned all further idea of 
 acting in the character of a " special correspondent " for his 
 own paper, resting content to supply himself with a few mis- 
 cellaneous incidents of a cursory nature, and retaining them 
 until he should be seated at his own desk at Putney Common, 
 where he then resided. In short, he was blessed with so 
 many "aids to reflection" and enjoyment in his own English 
 home that he. could not brook the discomfort of writing in 
 " strange nooks and corners," without the accustomed imple- 
 ments of his calling, and far removed from those domestic in- 
 fluences which he often confessed quickened his impulses and 
 chastened his understanding. The work he had embarked in 
 was totally unsuited to him, and it was really grievous to 
 notice the expression of his countenance, as, morning after 
 morning, the post brought him a letter from his locum tenens 
 in London, Mr. Frederick Guest Tomlins, complaining of his 
 shortcomings, and urging him to return, or to act in a manner 
 more worthy of his ambition and of the known reputation he
 
 DOUGLAS JERROLD. 277 
 
 bore. He felt himself, however, in the position of an irre- 
 sponsible agent, and he thought it would have been just as 
 little worthy of him to attempt that which he knew he could 
 not successfully accomplish as to neglect the duty altogether ; 
 but at the same time he was reluctant to return to England 
 until he had been absent a sufficient time to show that, at 
 least, he had tried to fulfill the trust reposed in him. His 
 plan, therefore, was to pass the morning in reading the French 
 newspapers, and thus laying in a stock of material, either for 
 his paper or for his weekly contributions to " Punch," and to 
 devote the remainder of the day to sauntering about the 
 Boulevards, choosing a restaurant to dine at, and visiting a 
 theatre in the evening. 
 
 In ordering his dinner his great fancy was for quelque chose 
 appttissante, as he called the lighter form of entrees, and a bot- 
 tle of Tavel the latter because he said it was "the French- 
 man's port," and it was lighter and dryer than our own. It 
 must be confessed, however, that the bent of his genius did 
 not lie in the direction of gastronomy ; and though he well 
 knew the difference between a gourmand and a gourmet, he 
 had not the skill to order a dinner with a due regard to econ- 
 omy, either in reference to money or food, and the result was 
 that the former was often unnecessarily expended, and the lat- 
 ter was much more plentiful than rechercht. He had every 
 desire to vary his place of entertainment ; but if he could not 
 procure his favorite Tavel he would not go a second time to a 
 restaurant where that almost-exploded wine was disregarded. 
 Although proud to be thought an Englishman, it was a source 
 of annoyance to him to be treated as one, and he was apt to 
 resent as an indignity any allusion to his being of the family 
 of "John Bull." One day he essayed his taste and skill at 
 the Cafe* Riche, which was on a somewhat more extensive 
 scale than the restaurants he generally patronized, and upon 
 his asking for the carte du jour, the waiter roused his anger 
 to a high pitch by saying, " // y a du bon rosbif aujourd'- 
 hiii." " Don't come to France to eat roast beef," he curtly re- 
 plied : " Plenty of that at home." And he never dined at the 
 Cafe* Riche again.
 
 2;8 GEORGE HODDER. 
 
 Thus the same spirit of discontent continued to pervade his 
 actions during the few remaining days of his sojourn in the 
 French metropolis ; and it was by no means decreased as the 
 morning of his departure drew near ; for then he began to re- 
 proach himself for not having delivered his letters of intro- 
 duction. I observed that his mornings were often disturbed 
 by visits from John Ppole, the author of " Paul Pry," who had 
 for many years been living in Paris ; and although Jerrold 
 never distinctly told me the object of his seeking him, it was 
 evident from the manner of the latter, and from a few broken 
 sentences he muttered, that there was some cause for coldness 
 between them. " Poor Poole ! " he exclaimed one day, after 
 receiving a visit from him ; " he has not made the best of his 
 chances in life." At another time he observed that Poole was 
 never known to say a good thing ; but that if an idea struck 
 him in society he would "book it for his next magazine ar- 
 ticle." Amongst others who sought Jerrold's acquaintance in 
 Paris was the Rev. Francis Mahony (" Father Prout "), and I 
 had the gratification of meeting the two men at a little dinner- 
 party at the residence of Mr. Thomas Frazer, 1 the correspond- 
 ent of the " Morning Chronicle," on the Boulevard des Capu- 
 cines. Even on that occasion it was noticeable that Jerrold 
 was ill at ease, and was not much disposed to talk upon the 
 subject which at that period naturally absorbed the attention 
 of the community. Indeed, he constantly reflected, both in 
 society and when alone, that his visit to Paris had involved 
 a loss of time and money, and that, on his return home, he 
 should not receive that hearty welcome from his fellow-work- 
 ers on the newspaper which his public position would other- 
 wise have led him to expect. When the morning came for his 
 departure about a fortnight after his arrival he openly ac- 
 knowledged that his mission to Paris had been a failure ; and 
 as he was arranging his portmanteau, he took therefrom a 
 small packet, and, throwing it into the fire, said, " There are 
 my letters of introduction ! " 
 
 1 This is the kind-hearted man alluded to by Thackeray in his Ballad of BottiUa- 
 " There 'i laughing Tom is laughing yet."
 
 DOUGLAS JERROLD. 279 
 
 Although, as I have already shown, Jerrold's character at 
 that time did not appear in a light quite so amiable as his 
 friends could have wished, I. had many a teie-a-iete with him 
 which contributed much to my enjoyment, for Jerrold never 
 shone to* better advantage than when he was talking worldly 
 wisdom to those who were glad to profit by what he taught 
 them. Indeed, as a rule, he was an acceptable monitor, and 
 did not give his advice in a patronizing or dictatorial spirit, 
 but seemed to make himself tolerably sure that his words 
 would at least be cheerfully received, if not, perhaps, fully 
 acted upon. It was during our stay in Paris that he said some 
 of those " good things " which have since bestrewn the paths 
 of literature, and as they have now become the common prop- 
 erty of the reading and the talking world, I shall avoid the 
 risk of repetition by quoting only one or two of his bits of 
 wisdom, which might, not inaptly, come under the category of 
 "advice to young men." Talking of marriage, he said he 
 would never advise a man to choose a wife on account of her 
 intellect any more than for the sake of her money. " As to 
 myself," he added, " since I have been married I have never 
 known what it is to turn down my own socks." Speaking of 
 young authors allowing their names to appear amongst the 
 contributors to various publications at one and the same time, 
 instead of concentrating their energies upon some work of an 
 enduring character, he said, " Don't scatter your small shot." 
 In allusion to the vice of getting into debt, he remarked that 
 a man must be forgiven for procuring meat and bread upon 
 credit, " but he has no right to do this sort of thing in the 
 same way" (pointing to a bottle of wine which stood be- 
 fore him). On my telling him that I had just attempted a 
 little story in verse, and that I should be glad if he could rec- 
 ommend it for publication, he said, " Why not walk, and tell 
 the same thing in prose ? " He once told me a little story, 
 which, as it seems to have escaped the notice of those who 
 have written about him, although it may possibly be known in 
 some shape, I shall introduce here, especially as Jerrold used 
 to say that the incident came within his own experience. A
 
 280 GEORGE HODDER. 
 
 passenger, well-to-do in the world, had fallen overboard at sea, 
 and his life was saved by an Irish sailor who jumped in after 
 him. As a reward for the trifling service which his preserver 
 had rendered him, the generous passenger presented Paddy 
 with sixpence ! Whereupon the sailor, looking him full in the 
 face, and scanning him from head to foot with a smile of su- 
 preme contempt, exclaimed, in a rich Hibernian brogue, " Be 
 jabers, it 's enough ! " 
 
 On the occasion of the first performance of Jerrold's comedy 
 of "Time Works Wonders," I had the good fortune to occupy 
 a seat in his private box, and I well remember his feeling of 
 delight, at the close, when he contemplated the success he had 
 achieved. A party of his friends had arranged to sup together 
 at the Bedford Hotel, Covent Garden, and as we walked thither 
 from the Haymarket Theatre I offered him my hearty con- 
 gratulations, for I had never witnessed a "first night" which 
 was more fruitful in agreeable results than that of " Time 
 Work Wonders." Arrived at the door of the hotel, I could 
 not help repeating the gratification I felt at the author's well- 
 merited triumph, when Jerrold, turning his eye full upon me, 
 and smacking his chest with his hand, exclaimed, with a degree 
 of exultation which was most natural under the circumstances, 
 "Yes ; and here 's the little man that 's done it ! " 
 
 " Time Works Wonders " was indeed a work for the author 
 to be proud of, for we have had no piece in modern times so 
 bristling with wit, so varied in character, and, withal, so inter- 
 esting yet simple in plot, as this really admirable comedy. 
 Why it should so long have remained unrevived is a question 
 which I fear involves some reflection upon those of our man- 
 agers who are guided by a desire to encourage the " legitimate 
 drama " a phrase which, I take it, is intended to signify the 
 drama of intellect, as contradistinguished from the unhealthy 
 creations of a vitiated taste. 
 
 As the offspring of eminent men must be admitted to bear a 
 degree of interest in the eyes of the public proportionate to 
 that which attaches to their parents, I may here take the 
 opportunity of introducing some further mention of Douglas
 
 DOUGLAS JERROLD. 28 1 
 
 Jerrold's family, my object being to show that he was keenly 
 alive to the necessity for seeing his children occupy a favorable 
 position In the world. Edmund Douglas, his second son, 
 received an appointment in the Treasury from Lord John Rus- 
 sell, and was afterwards transferred to an office in the Com- 
 missariat. Thomas Serle Jerrold (godson of Mr. T. J. Serle, 
 the dramatist), the third son, was placed under the care of 
 Mr. Paxton (aftenvards Sir Joseph) at the Duke of Devon- 
 shire's estate at Chatsworth, with a view to his learning the art 
 of gardening; and it was during young Tom's apprenticeship 
 that his able instructor made his design for the Great Exhibi- 
 tion Building in 1851. On the opening of the Great Northern 
 Railway to that part of the world where Chatsworth is situated, 
 I was instructed by the editor of a paper with which I was then 
 connected, to take the journey, and to describe such objects of 
 interest as might appear on the route, and particularly to direct 
 my attention to the beauties of the Duke of Devonshire's seat. 
 I placed myself under the guidance of Mr. Paxton, who 
 received me with great courtesy, and after pointing out to me 
 all the principal charms of the garden grounds, conducted me 
 at length to a spacious conservatory which he had designed, 
 and which was then approaching completion. It was built 
 exclusively of iron and glass, and when Mr. Paxton had 
 described the improvements it embraced over other structures 
 of the like kind, he said he was then finishing a design upon 
 the same principle for the contemplated building in Hyde 
 Park. Having led me up a steep flight of stairs into an office 
 in the garden, where several young men were engaged in pre- 
 paring architectural plans, he called my attention to the draw- 
 ing he had spoken of, and said, "That's the design I intend 
 for the Great Exhibition." " But surely you 're too late," I 
 observed ; " for the designs have already been sent in, and are 
 now being exhibited." " I don't mind that," he replied, "they 
 must have this. Look at the economy of it, and consider how 
 short a time will be required to erect the building." The re- 
 sult is far too widely known to need another word from me ; but 
 I have recalled the circumstance because the newspaper article
 
 282 GEORGE H 'ODDER. 
 
 I wrote at the time contained the first public mention that was 
 ever made of the Great Exhibition building of 1851. 
 
 It was in the following year that Edmund Jerrold received 
 his appointment in the Commissariat, and as he was under 
 orders to proceed to Canada, his father and mother gave a 
 little ball in his honor on the eve of his departure. Being a 
 young gentleman of somewhat graceful proportions, and not a 
 little proud to exhibit himself to the best advantage, he wore 
 his uniform on the occasion, and was of course a very conspic- 
 uous object during the evening. In short, his glittering ap- 
 pearance was almost calculated to monopolize the attention of 
 the lady visitors ; and his father being anxious that he should 
 distinguish himself in some way beyond that of displaying his 
 elegant costume, hoped, when his health was proposed, as it 
 was in due course, after supper, that he might make a speech 
 which would be considered " an honor to his family." When 
 Edmund rose, champagne-glass in hand, to express his ac- 
 knowledgments, he seemed so full of confidence, and pre- 
 sented so bold a front to the assembled guests, many of whom 
 were standing in clusters around the room, that his father 
 must have thought he had a son of whose oratorial powers he 
 should doubtless one day be proud. The young officer, how- 
 ever, had scarcely got beyond the words " Ladies and gentle- 
 men, for the honor you have done me," ere he suddenly col- 
 lapsed, and resumed his seat ! Never was astonishment more 
 strangely depicted upon the human countenance than it was 
 upon that of Jerrold at this singular fiasco on the part of his 
 hopeful son. He was literally dumbfounded, but at length he 
 exploded with a sort of cachinnatory splutter not to call it 
 laughter and looking round the room, in doubt as to where 
 he should fix his gaze, he murmured " Well /" Amongst 
 the guests on that evening was Dr. Wright, Jerrold's medical 
 attendant, and that gentleman had selected as his partner in 
 a dance Miss Mary Jerrold, our host's youngest daughter. 
 The Doctor being " more than common tall," and the young 
 lady being rather short, but not of very minute proportions, 
 their combined appearance produced a somewhat ludicrous
 
 DOUGLAS JERROLD. 283 
 
 effect as they waltzed round the salon, and Jerrold, suddenly 
 catching a glimpse of them, exclaimed, " Hollo ! there 's a mile 
 dancing with a mile-stone ! " 
 
 An interesting period in the life of Douglas Jerrold was the 
 fiftieth anniversary of his birthday, which he resolved to cele- 
 brate with all the honors due to such an occasion. The day 
 was the 3d January, 1853, and Jerrold received at his dinner- 
 table, in the Circus Road, St. John's Wood, a large number of 
 his most intimate friends, including the proprietors and con- 
 tributors to " Punch " Mr. Charles Knight (whom he held 
 in very high esteem), Mr. Hepworth Dixon, Mr. E. H. Baily, 
 R. A., the eminent sculptor, and a few others, including my- 
 self, who were better known to friendship than to fame. Jer- 
 rold was in remarkably good health and spirits, and treated 
 the allusions that were made to the occasion of the meeting in 
 atone of hilarity which rendered the question as to "ages" 
 matter of jocular rather than sentimental import. The even- 
 ing was indeed one of the merriest I ever passed in the society 
 of Douglas Jerrold, and so gratified was Mr. Baily, who was 
 the Nestor of the party being, indeed, in his seventy-fifth 
 year that he said he should gladly commemorate the event 
 by making a bust of Jerrold, and presenting a cast of it to every 
 one present. The bust was executed in marble, and is now in 
 the possession of the family, who not only regard it as one of 
 the most poetically conceived works which modern sculpture 
 has produced, but seldom speak of it without calling to mind 
 the interesting occasion which gave rise to it. So admirable 
 is it as a likeness, and so graceful as a composition, that I am 
 constrained to say, in common with others similarly situated, 
 that I was sadly disappointed that Mr. Baily was unable to 
 carry out his promise to its full extent. 
 
 In the month of May, 1857, Jerrold was stricken with his 
 mortal illness ; and saddening indeed was the effect upon his 
 club-mates and his dearest friends, as day by day they found 
 their hopes for his recovery becoming fainter and fainter. 
 Every conceivable attention was paid to him, both by the 
 members of his household and by the physicians Dr. Cleve-
 
 284 GEORGE HODDER. 
 
 land, Dr. H. G. Wright, and Dr. Quain to whom his case 
 was intrusted ; but he expired in the beginning of June. By 
 a melancholy coincidence, I chanced to arrive at his cham- 
 ber-door at the very moment that the family were leaving the 
 room after seeing him breathe his last ; and Mrs. Jerrold hav- 
 ing begged me to enter, I was much impressed by the picture 
 that presented itself. All had quitted the room with the ex- 
 ception of Mr. Copeland, the brother-in-law of Douglas Jer- 
 rold, then the proprietor of the Theatre Royal, and the Royal 
 Amphitheatre, Liverpool. That gentleman was leaning. over 
 the body of his departed friend and relative, and looking at 
 his countenance with the most profound attention, while he 
 struggled in vain to conceal the grief that oppressed him. 
 For some minutes Mr. Copeland and I remained the sole 
 watchers over the corpse, and when, after giving vent to the 
 feelings which literally overpowered me, I at last contrived to 
 tear myself from the house, I could not possibly dismiss the 
 reflection from my mind that the place which Douglas Jerrold 
 had so many years held in my memory and esteem was never 
 likely to be supplied. 
 
 The funeral of my lamented friend took place at Norwood 
 Cemetery, on a bright morning in the month of June, and the 
 spot chosen for his interment was in close proximity to the 
 grave of his boy-friend and literary associate, Laman Blan- 
 chard. Those who were present on that mournful occasion 
 and they were indeed numerous can never forget the ex- 
 traordinary interest which attached to the event. Long before 
 the time fixed for the arrival of the funeral cortege, the burial- 
 ground was absolutely thronged with gentlemen celebrated in 
 literature, the drama, and fine arts. Indeed, it would have 
 been difficult to mention the name of any person well known 
 to those three professions who was not there to take part in 
 the generous tribute that was being paid to one who had, by 
 the unaided force of his genius and will, successfully climbed 
 
 "The iteep where Fame's proud temple shines afar." 
 
 The coffin was of plain oak, and was borne upon an open car,
 
 DOUGLAS JERROLD. 285 
 
 on each side of which were the initials " D. J." In the mourn- 
 ing coaches which followed it were seated Mr. Blanchard Jer- 
 rold and Mr. Thomas Serle Jerrold (Douglas Jerrold's eldest 
 and youngest sons), Mr. Copeland (his brother-in-law), Mr. 
 Henry Mayhew (his son-in-law), and the three medical gentle- 
 men who had attended the deceased in his last illness. The 
 pall-bearers were Mr. Charles Dickens, Mr. W. M. Thack- 
 eray, Mr. Charles Knight, Mr. Horace Mayhew, Mr. Mark 
 Lemon, Mr. Monckton Milnes, M. P. (now Lord Houghton), 
 and Mr. Bradbury (of the firm of Bradbury and Evans), all of 
 whom wore on their arms crape rosettes embroided with the 
 initials " D. J." As the coffin was being conveyed to the 
 chapel, some hundreds of gentlemen followed in procession, 
 and amongst these should be mentioned the names of John 
 Leech, Shirley Brooks, John Tenniel, Tom Taylor, Percival 
 Leigh, Samuel Lucas (at one period reviewer of books in the 
 "Times"), W. Bayle Bernard, John Baldwin Buckstone, T. 
 Sydney Cooper, R. A., George Cruikshank, Peter Cunning- 
 ham, Augustus Egg, R. A., John Forster, James Hannay. 
 William Hazlitt, J. A. Heraud, Charles Kenney, E. Landells, 
 Charles Landseer, R. A., Thomas and George Landseer, E. 
 Lloyd (the proprietor of " Lloyd's Weekly Newspaper," which 
 bore the name of Douglas Jerrold as editor for the last five 
 years of his life), Daniel Maclise, R. A., Kenny Meadows, 
 John Oxenford, Sir Joseph Paxton, Albert Smith, E. M. Ward, 
 R. A., Benjamin Webster, Erasmus Wilson, Forbes Winslow, 
 E. Moxon, etc. A glance at these names, which form but a 
 very small proportion of the vast assembly gathered together 
 at the spot, will furnish a conspicuous proof of the various in- 
 terests and pursuits represented on that sad morning ; and it 
 may be safely affirmed that few have been the funeral cere- 
 monies where those who attended them were influenced by 
 feelings of more unfeigned regret than were manifested at the 
 obsequies of Douglas Jerrold.
 
 286 GEORGE IfODDER. 
 
 THE ORIGIN OF "PUNCH." 
 
 The projector of " Punch " was unquestionably Henry May- 
 hew, and, although the fact may not be regarded by its thou- 
 sands of readers as a matter of very grave importance, I shall 
 offer no excuse for briefly dwelling upon it, because doubts 
 have been expressed, not only amongst the uninformed, but 
 amongst those who might be supposed to be acquainted with 
 the subject, as to the individual to whom the merit is justly 
 due. The question has repeatedly been brought upon the 
 tapis in every-day conversation ; and it has been quite amus- 
 ing to note the self-confident manner in which quidnuncs and 
 that aggressive class of people who may be called the know- 
 everything section of the community, have described circum- 
 stantially all the particulars of the " identical meeting " at a 
 tavern near Drury Lane, at which " Punch " was started ! 
 The starting of " Punch " was undoubtedly the result of many 
 meetings ; but its origin was the result of Mr. Mayhew's per- 
 sonal cogitations, as already stated ; and, not to say it vain-glo- 
 riously, it happened that I was the first individual to whom he 
 mentioned the idea, simply because I was the first individual he 
 saw (that is, in whom he could be expected to confide) on the 
 day he disclosed it to his friends. 
 
 Henry Mayhew was then (the summer of 1841) living in the 
 neighborhood of Charing Cross ; and as I chanced to be a 
 near neighbor of his, an arrangement had been come to by 
 which I should visit him every morning ; and I well remember 
 that, for several weeks, we commenced the day at an early 
 hour, in order that we might study " Euclid " together. One 
 morning, on entering his sitting-room, I found Mayhew in un- 
 usually high glee (although his spirits were seldom at a low 
 ebb), and I instinctively came to the conclusion that, as he 
 was constantly bent upon the discovery of some "new notion," 
 he was now about to exhibit his creative power under circum- 
 stances of an exceptionally propitious character. " I 've a 
 splendid idea ! " he exclaimed, with an impulsive eagerness 
 which showed that he had been anxiously wishing for the
 
 THE ORIGIN OF "PUNCH." 287 
 
 opportunity of opening his mind upon the subject. " What, 
 another!" I exclaimed. " Delighted to hear it ! What is it?" 
 or words to the like effect. "A new comical periodical," 
 said Mayhew. " You know the French ' Charivari,' don't 
 you ? " " Yes," was the reply. " Well, my idea is to start 
 a similar thing, called " Punch, or the London Charivari." 
 " Good ! " said I. And we forthwith proceeded to draw up 
 a list of the names of artists and contributors whom Mayhew 
 suggested should be asked to associate themselves with the un- 
 dertaking. The name of Gilbert a Beckett (an old friend and 
 collaborateur of Mayhew's in his works of a humorous and 
 satirical character) was the first on the list, and then followed 
 those of Douglas Jerrold, Mark Lemon (with whom Henry 
 Mayhew was then in daily communication), Sterling Coyne, 
 W. H. Wills, H. P. Grattan, and others. Suddenly, he or I, or 
 both (but it is by no means material to the issue, as the lawyers 
 have it), remarked that there was a clever fellow rejoicing in 
 the nont de plume of " Paul Prendergast," who had recently 
 shown much force of humor in " The Comic Latin Grammar, 
 and who was then engaged in writing " The Comic English 
 Grammar." To ascertain his baptismal name was the first 
 step necessary; and we soon found it to be Percival Leigh, 
 and that he was living in Chapel Place, Oxford Street. 
 
 It svas arranged that Mayhew should write to Douglas Jer- 
 rold, and that I should assist him in obtaining the cooperation 
 of the chosen writers and artists to whom we could insure easy 
 access ; but, above all, I was to seek out " Paul Prendergast," 
 and offer him such terms as might tempt him to enroll his 
 name among the contributors. I had no difficulty in seeing 
 him (though he was busily occupied at his desk at the time), 
 and on my telling him the object of my mission, he very pru- 
 dently said he had certain scruples about embarking in a pub- 
 lication without knowing something of its characteristics, and 
 that he should be glad to have an opportunity of glancing at a 
 copy before he could undertake to write for it. It could not be 
 disputed that this somewhat uncommon piece of caution was 
 perfectly reasonable ; but when I took my departure I felt fully
 
 288 GEORGE HO ODER. 
 
 assured in my own mind that, as Mr. Leigh's reputation was 
 yet to be established, and as his literary capacity appeared 
 especially to indicate a quaintness of humor which must find a 
 convenient ^outlet for its expression, his name would ere long 
 be included among the adherents to " Punch." Meanwhile, 
 he conferred with his friend John Leech, who had illustrated 
 his " Comic Latin Grammar," and the result was that " Paul 
 Prendergast " and John Leech made their joint obeisance to 
 Mr. Punch in the fourth number of his work, in an article 
 called " Foreign Affairs " the letter-press by the former, 
 and the pictorial design (representing types of continental 
 character, as seen in the neighborhood of Leicester Square) 
 by the latter. 
 
 But our immediate business is with the initiation of the 
 weekly periodical, some particulars of the birth of which can- 
 not be otherwise than interesting, if not important, to a large 
 portion of the public, hundreds of whom have been familiar 
 with the work from its very commencement. Not much time 
 had elapsed ere all preliminaries were settled, and the contents 
 of the first number agreed upon. Archibald Henning (l n g 
 since passed away) was to be the chief illustrator, and Eben- 
 ezer Landells was to have the superintendence of the engrav- 
 ing department. The principal contributors to No. i were 
 Gilbert a Beckett, Sterling Coyne, W. H. Wills, H. P. Grat- 
 tan, Mark Lemon, and Henry Mayhew, the last two being joint 
 editors. The frontispiece on the " wrapper " was drawn by 
 Henning, as was also the large cartoon (which, as it was the 
 period of a general election, represented a group of " Candi- 
 dates under different heads"); and the miscellaneous " small 
 cuts " were executed, if I remember rightly, by an artist named 
 Brine. The printer was Mr. Joseph Last, then of Crane Court, 
 Fleet Street, who, together with Mr. Landells, was a share- 
 holder in the speculation. The original prospectus of the 
 work was as follows :
 
 THE ORIGIN Of- " PUNCH." 289 
 
 WILL BE OUT SHORTLY, 1 
 
 And continued every Saturday, 
 
 (Sizt of the Atktnaum,) 
 
 PRICE THREEPENCE. 
 
 A NEW WORK OF WHIT AND WHIM, 
 
 Embellished with Cuts and Caricatures. 
 TO BE CALLED 
 
 PUNCH; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 
 
 This Guffawgraph is intended to form a refuge for destitute 
 wit an asylum for the thousands of orphan jokes the 
 superannuated Joe Millers the millions of perishing puns, 
 which are now wandering about without so much as a shelf to 
 rest upon ! It will also be devoted to the emancipation of the 
 Jew d'esprits all over the world, and the naturalization of those 
 alien JONATHANS, whose adherence to the truth has forced 
 them to emigrate from their native land. 
 
 The proprietors feel that the " eyes of Europe " will be upon 
 them that every visible animal, like our political patriots, will 
 look out for 
 
 No. I. 
 
 " PUNCH " will have the honor of making his first appear- 
 ance in this character on SATURDAY, JULY 17, 1841 ; and will 
 continue, from week to week, to offer to the world all the fun 
 to be found in his own and the following heads : 
 
 POLITICS. " Punch " has no party prejudices ; he is Con- 
 servative in his opposition to Fantoccini and political puppets, 
 but a progressive Whig in his love of small change and a re- 
 peal of the union with public Judies. 
 
 1 Under this line was a small wood-cut, representing Lord Melbourne, Lord John 
 Russell, and Lord Morpeth, who were then in office (the first being Prime Minister), 
 but were expected to be " out shortly." 
 19
 
 GEORGE HODDEK. 
 
 FASHIONS. This department will be conducted by Mrs. 
 J. Punch, whose extensive acquaintance with the elite of the 
 areas will enable her to furnish the earliest information of the 
 Movements of the Fashionable World. 
 
 POLICE. This portion of the work will be under the direc- 
 tion of an experienced nobleman a regular attendant at the 
 various offices who, from a strong attachment to " Punch," 
 will be in a position to supply exclusive reports. 
 
 REVIEWS. To render this branch of the periodical as 
 perfect as possible, arrangements have been made to secure 
 the critical assistance of John Ketch, Esq., who, from tlie 
 mildness of the law, and the congenial character of modern lit- 
 erature, with his early associations, has been induced to un- 
 dertake its execution. 
 
 FINE ARTS. Anxious to do justice to native talent, the 
 criticisms upon Painting, Sculpture, etc., will be confided to 
 one of the most popular artists of the day " Punch's " own 
 immortal scene-painter. 
 
 Music AND THE DRAMA. These will be amongst the 
 most prominent features of the work. The Musical Notices 
 will be written by the gentleman who plays the mouth-organ, 
 assisted by the professors of the drum and cymbals. " Punch " 
 himself \\\\\ DO the Drama. 
 
 SPORTING. A prophet has been engaged ! He will fore- 
 tell not only the winners of each race, but also the " VATES " l 
 and colors of the riders. 
 
 The FACETIAE will be contributed by the members of the 
 following learned bodies : 
 
 The Court of Common Council and the Zoological Society. 
 
 The Temperance Association and the Waterproofing Com- 
 pany. 
 
 The College of Physicians and the Highgate Cemetery. 
 
 The Dramatic Authors' and the Mendicity Societies. 
 
 The Beefsteak Club and the Anti-Dry Rot Company. 
 
 1 The name assumed by a Mr. Harrison, at that time the sporting correspondent 
 of* daily paper.
 
 THE ORIGIN Ofi' "PUNCH." 291 
 
 Together with original humorous and satirical articles, in 
 verse and prose, from all the 
 
 FUNNY DOGS WITH COMIC TALES. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PUBLISHED FOR THE PROPRIETORS BY R. BRYANT, 
 
 AT " PUNCH'S " OFFICE, 3, WELLINGTON STREET, STRAND ; 
 
 Where all communications (prepaid) for the Editors shotild 
 
 be forwarded. 
 
 At length came the day of publication. It was Saturday, 
 July 17, 1841 (for the system of issuing periodical works in an- 
 ticipation of the dafe was not then the prevailing practice as 
 it has since become), and Mr. Mayhew's thoughts and atten- 
 tion were directed, with inevitable anxiety, to the publishing 
 office, from a desire to ascertain the progress of the " circula- 
 tion." If the aforesaid Mr. Bryant be still extant, he will, 
 doubtless, remember how frequently and eagerly Mr. May- 
 hew, or myself sometimes both applied to him to know 
 the state of affairs in his all-important department. In short, 
 it may be frankly stated that Mayhew and I walked up and 
 down that part of the Strand leading from Wellington Street 
 towards St. Clement's Church the greater part of the after- 
 noon, discussing the prospects of the new undertaking, and 
 the former congratulating himself upon the success it was 
 likely to achieve, as we continued to obtain fresh intelligence 
 in respect to the number of copies disposed of. 
 
 As to the ultimate success of the work, it is only necessary 
 for me to say that it struggled on manfully and cleverly for 
 many months (its momentary dissolution being daily pre- 
 dicted by alarmists and " Job's-comforters"), but from the 
 unfortunate obstacle caused by the want of capital, its pro- 
 moters fell into difficulties, and, in order to save it from bank- 
 ruptcy, the property was disposed of to Messrs. Bradbury and 
 Evans, the present printers and proprietors, for a sum little 
 exceeding the amount of Mr. Punch's liabilities, Mr. Landells 
 still holding a small share, which, however, was soon bought 
 up by the new authorities, and Mr. Lemon retaining the ed-
 
 2Q2 GEORGE HODDER. 
 
 itorship, with Mr. Mayhew (who had yielded that post to him) 
 as his auxiliary in the discharge of the somewhat essential 
 duty of " thinking and suggesting." 
 
 From the above statement it is pretty clear that " Punch " 
 was not projected at a tavern near Drury Lane Theatre, or at 
 a tavern near anywhere else : that nobody but Henry May- 
 hew was the actual originator of it ; and that the earliest con- 
 tributors to it did not comprise one half, or even one fourth, 
 of the names which those, who delight in relating all they do 
 not know, have been pleased to number among its fathers and 
 godfathers and its multitude of literary offspring. 
 
 The following lines, which appeared in "^unch " in the month 
 of January, 1843, and were written by Percival Leigh, are amply 
 sufficient to indicate, at least to those who know something of 
 Greek and Latin, the locality of Mr. Punch's symposia, and 
 even the name of the hostelry where they took place : 
 
 SODALITAS PUNCHICA, SEU CLUBBUS NOSTER. 
 POEMA MACARONICUM, VEL ANGLO-GK^CO-CANINO-LATINUM. 
 
 Sum quidam /0//y dags, Saturday qui nocte frequentant 
 Antiqui "irt^avov, qui Mat prope mcema I) run, 
 BovAopcfot saccos cum frog distendere rather, 
 Indulgere jocis, necnon Baccho atque tobacco ; 
 In mundo tales non/elloivt ante fuere: 
 Magnammum herouni celebrabo carmine laudes, 
 Posthac illustres ut vivant omne per zvum. 
 
 Altior cV ST<f>aixji locus est, snug easy recessus ; 
 Hie quarttrt fixeie suos, conclave teneiit hie. 
 Hie dapidus cumulata gemit m.ikogany mensa. 
 Pascuntur variis ; roast beef cum pudtiing of Yorkshire 
 Interdum ; sometimes epulis queis nomen agrestes 
 Boiled leg of mutton and trimmings imposuere. 
 Hie double A'haurit, Barclay and Perkins' i Hie ; 
 Nee desunt mixtis qui sese polibus implent 
 Quos "offnojf" 1 omnes ccnsuescunt dicere waiters. 
 
 Postquam exempta fames grubbp, mappatque remote, 
 Pro cyathii clamant, qui goes sermnne vocantur 
 Vulgari. of wkisky, rum, fin, and brandy, ed et sunt ; 
 Coelicolum qui fiincfi (" eiroribui absque *') liquore 
 Gaudent ; et pauci vino quod prxbet Oporto, 
 Quod certi Uack-i'.raf dicuut MitJrnomine Grati. 
 Hauttibu* his////, communit et adjiciuntur 
 Skaf, Reditut, Cubz Silvx. Ckeroots et Havynn*.
 
 THE ORIGIN OP "PUNCH." 293 
 
 " Festinate viri," bawls one, " nunc ludile verbis: " 
 Alter " Foemineum Sexum" propinat, et " Hurrah .'" 
 Respondent, po'-haits: cor.cusso plausibus nmni. 
 Nunc similes vcteri versantur ivinky lepores 
 Omnibus, exiguus nee, Jingo teste, tumultus 
 Exoritur, quoniam summa nituntur opum vi 
 Rivales aAAot tt>p-sawyeis (/nfxci-ai aAAun'. 
 
 Est genus ingenui lusfls quod nomine Burk.ug 
 Notum est, vel Burko, qui claudere ctincta solebat 
 Ora olim eloquio, pugi i vel lorsitan isto 
 Deaf Un, vel Burko pueros qui Burxit ; at illud 
 Plausibus ant fictis joculatorem excipiendo, 
 Atit bothering aliquid referentem, constat, amicum. 
 Hoc pai vo fxcutitur multus conamine risus, 
 
 Nomina magnorum referam uunc pauca virorum : 
 Marcus et Hemicus, 1 I'uHthi duo lumina magru, 
 (H'Juicks hie Aristotelem, Sophoclem brown uialloppeth ille) 
 In clubbum adveniunt ; Juvenalis * et advenit acer 
 Qui veiuti I'addyuiliackfor love contundit amicos ; 
 Ingentesque animos non parvo in corpora versans 
 Tullius: 3 et Matutini qui Sidus Heraldi est 
 Georgms ;* Alberlus Magnus ; B vesterque Poeta." 
 
 Prsesldet his Nesior, 7 qui tempore vixit in Anna?, 
 Creditur et vidisse Japhet, non youngster at ullus 
 In chaff, audaci certamine, vinceret ilium. 
 Ille jocos mollit dictis, et pectora mulcet, 
 Ni facial, tumblers, etgoes, et pocula pewier, 
 Q'.iippe aliorum alii jactarent forsan in aures. 
 
 An important accession to the pictorial strength of " Punch " 
 was realized in the introduction of Mr. H. G. Hine, who made 
 his entree in the pages of that periodical in the month of 
 September following the date of its commencement. Mr. Hine 
 had been known to Mr. Landells through his illustrations to 
 the " Cosmorama " and other publications ; and although he 
 was professedly a landscape-painter, and had no more ex- 
 perience of drawing on the wood than a stanch teetotaler has 
 of drawing wine from it, he was at once thrust into a prominent 
 position as an artistic contributor to " Punch's" columns. His 
 chief speciality consisted in the grotesque ideas which he de- 
 veloped, with much facility, in the smr.ll cuts ; but he soon 
 
 1 Mark Lemon and Henry Mayhew. J Douglas Jerrold. 
 
 s J H. Tu'ly, the composer. 
 
 4 G. Hodder (at that time connected with the Morning H -raid newspaper). 
 * Albert Smith. Percival Leigh. 7 Henry Baylis.
 
 294 GEORGE HODDEK. 
 
 proved himself capable of greater things, and it is not a little 
 remarkable that he executed the whole of the illustrations to 
 " Punch's " first Almanack, with the exception of the border 
 pieces, which were the work of Hablot Browne. Mr. Hine 
 has long since abandoned the duties of a comic artist for the 
 more congenial pursuit to which he originally intended to 
 devote his talents, and he is now a conspicuous member of 
 the Institute of Painters in Water Colors his charming rep- 
 resentations of downy scenery, dotted with sheep, and re- 
 lieved by little villages which would seem to have dropped 
 into pleasant valleys designed expressly to receive them, be- 
 ing always amongst the chief attractions of its annual ex- 
 hibitions. 
 
 Mr. Birket Foster, another "knight of the brush," rather 
 than of the pencil, also made certain contributions though 
 not many to the early numbers of " Punch ; " but they were 
 of a character which showed him to be eminently wwfitted for 
 the task of delineating facetia. He was, however, a pupil of 
 Mr. Landells at the time, and it was natural that the latter 
 should test his qualities by every means at his command ; but 
 Mr. Foster did not suffer many years to elapse ere his name 
 became famous in a very different branch of art to that which 
 " Punch " would have marked out for him, and I have referred 
 to him in this place merely by way of showing the diversity of 
 artists whose works have ornamented the pages of the favorite 
 periodical. Among the earlier illustrators, besides those al- 
 ready mentioned, were Alfred Crowquill, Newman, Lee, Ha- 
 merton, John Gilbert, William Harvey, and Kenny Meadows. 
 The first frontispiece, as I have stated, was by Archibald Hen- 
 ning ; the second was by Harvey ; the third by Gilbert ; the 
 fourth by Meadows the practice during the first few years of 
 " Punch's " existence being to commence a new wrapper with 
 each succeeding volume ; until at length Richard Doyle ap- 
 peared upon the scene, and it was thought that the grotesque, 
 yet graceful contribution which he supplied was far too good 
 to be thrown aside at the expiration of six months. The pro- 
 prietors of the work, therefore, very wisely caused Mr. Doyle's
 
 THE ORIGIN OF " PUNCH:' 1 295 
 
 frontispiece to be stereotyped, and it now remains, with cer- 
 tain modifications, the permanent tableau on the outer covering 
 of "Punch." 
 
 It will be seen from the above enumeration of names that, 
 in the early stages of Mr. Punch's career, he gave encourage- 
 ment to artists who evinced no qualifications for humorous 
 art ; but the frequent changes he made led to a state of things 
 which showed that he was only desirous to place the right 
 man in the right place. It certainly could not be said that 
 William Harvey, the graceful and poetical illustrator of 
 " Knight's Pictorial Shakspere," was ever intended for a 
 " Punch " artist ; and as to John Gilbert (also an able illus- 
 trator of the great poet), so impressed was Douglas Jerrold 
 with the solid character of his academic forms and imposing 
 outlines that he exclaimed, " We don't want Rubens on 
 ' Punch ' ! " When Mr. Tenniel first associated himself with 
 the popular periodical, it was generally thought that his abil- 
 ities were of too classic an order for the duty he had under- 
 taken ; for it will be remembered that this gentleman executed 
 one of the cartoons for the Houses of Parliament (an allegory 
 of Justice), which gained a prize at the exhibition in Westmin- 
 ster Hall ; and that he once represented on the walls of the 
 Royal Academy a striking picture of " Adam and Eve in Para- 
 dise." Such un-Ptenc/t-]\ke subjects as these, and such un- 
 Leech-\\\i^ treatment as they required and received, were by 
 no means suggestive of comicality in the artist ; but Mr. Ten- 
 niel had too much confidence in the pictorial strength he pos- 
 sessed to feel that he need limit himself to a particular 
 sphere ; and hence he persevered with his pencil, until in time 
 he became inoculated, as it were, with a sense of humor which 
 has not been subordinate to, but has served to stimulate, his 
 graphic powers. It may be remarked that Mr. Tenniel's in- 
 troduction to " Punch " was in consequence of Mr. Doyle's 
 withdrawal from the scene of his many successes ; and it is" 
 no secret to state that, by the course adopted by the latter, he 
 sacrificed a handsome income, rather than remain attached to 
 a publication which had satirized the religion he professed.
 
 296 GEORGE HODDER. 
 
 HORACE MAYHEW. 
 
 As I have incidentally mentioned the name of Horace May- 
 hew, I may here state that I made his acquaintance, through 
 his brother Henry, some two years before the date of 
 " Punch's " birth, at which latter period he was absent on a 
 tour in Germany. It chanced, however, that he returned to 
 this country before the first volume was completed, and in the 
 course of a week or two he becartie an acknowledged contrib- 
 utor to the work, and was afterwards appointed sub-editor. 
 That appointment he held for some considerable time, and in 
 the discharge of his duties was a medium of communication 
 between the writers and the artists ; but the office was event- 
 ually abolished as unnecessary, and has never since been 
 filled up. Horace Mayhew's close connection with " Punch " 
 brought him to educate his mind for the particular form of 
 literature to which that periodical belongs, and he was not 
 only the suggester of many subjects (as, for example, " The 
 Female Robinson Crusoe ") which were handed over to the 
 treatment of others more experienced than himself, but was 
 the author of several popular works of a humorous kind, includ- 
 ing " Letters Left at the Pastrycook's ; " " Model Men," 
 " Model Women," and " Model Couples ; " " Change for a 
 Shilling," etc., together with a remarkable piece of graphic 
 drollery, illustrating " The Tooth-ache " in a variety of stages, 
 from the commencement of the disorder to the final extraction 
 of the offending member. This was published in the elongated 
 .roller form, and the designs, as well as the descriptive letter- 
 press at the foot of each, were supplied by the author himself ; 
 but were afterwards drawn upon wood by the great George 
 Cruikshank, who, however, declared that his rendering of the 
 subject, although it might be somewhat more artistic, rather 
 detracted than otherwise from the singular merit of the orig- 
 inals. As I have been from the period of my first knowledge 
 of Horace Mayhew on terms of uninterrupted friendship with 
 him, it would not befit me to descant upon his characteristics, 
 or to recall a succession of incidents connected with our con- 
 stant intercourse
 
 HORACE MAYHEW. 297 
 
 " What things have we seen 
 
 Done at the ! heard words that have been 
 
 t So nimble, and so full of subtle flame, 
 
 As if that every one from whence they came 
 Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest, 
 And had resolved to live a fool the rest 
 Of his dull life ! " 
 
 Mayhew will not fail to remember how he and I, as "the 
 boys" (so called) of the party assembled round Mr. Punch's 
 dinner- table at the Saturday gatherings, before they were con- 
 fined exclusively to the staff of accredited contributors, were 
 frequently among the last to quit the agreeable scene ; and 
 how upon taking our departure, with something like a feeling 
 of self-reproach at having been tempted to remain beyond the 
 hour when Prudence usually goes to bed, Douglas Jerrold has 
 consoled us with a favorite quotation of his from Gainsborough, 
 " Never mind. ' We are all going to heaven, and Vandyck is of 
 the company ; ' " * and how, when dining with Jerrold at his 
 house on the following day, and reminding him of some of the 
 flashes which his wit had sent forth, the latter has exclaimed, 
 laughingly and half-incredulously, " No ! did I say that ? " 
 But I will refrain from putting to the test Horace Mayhew's 
 remembrance of the " things we have seen," lest the retro- 
 spect should bring with it the reflection that they and the 
 actors in them have too long passed away ; and moreover I 
 might, peradventure, advert to subjects on which his impres- 
 sions might not entirely harmonize with my own. I cannot, 
 however, let this opportunity pass without recording my un- 
 feigned sense of his kindly and affectionate nature, and of the 
 esteem in which he is held by all who know him. In proof of 
 his friendly disposition, I will here quote from a letter which I 
 received from him on the occasion of that happy event of my 
 life which has already been mentioned here : 
 
 " I have sent to your house two little presents for Agnes 
 if she will be kind enough to accept them. Assure her they 
 are sent with the strongest wishes for her future happiness. 
 
 1 An exclamation made by Gainsborough on his death-bed, when he was visited bf 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds.
 
 298 GEORGE HODDEK. 
 
 " She must look upon the lamp [a very handsome specimen 
 of the ' moderator '] as an emblem of the light and cheerful- 
 ness that she will shed (with proper trimming, of course) 
 around you ; and the little Punch and Judy figures she must 
 take up kindly in her arms as pretty images of affection from 
 
 " Her sincere friend." 
 
 THE MAYHEW FAMILY. 
 
 I think this may be regarded as a fitting opportunity for the 
 introduction of the names of three other members of the May- 
 hew family Edward, Julius, and Augustus ; and I may here 
 at once state that of the four brothers to whom I have now al- 
 luded, those who have appeared before the public under the 
 designation of " The Brothers Mayhew," are Henry and Au- 
 gustus, who were the joint authors of "The Good Genius that 
 turned Everything into Gold," " The Magic of Kindness," 
 " The Greatest Plague of Life," " The Adventures of a Young 
 Monkey," etc. Edward, the eldest of the four, who in the 
 early part of his career achieved many successes by his dra- 
 matic productions and by his general contributions to period- 
 ical literature, was for some time the " Fine Arts " critic of the 
 " Morning Post," and was in other ways associated with jour- 
 nalism. Finding, however, that the pursuit of letters was not 
 calculated to secure him that permanent position for public 
 usefulness to which he aspired, he formed the manly resolu- 
 tion, at the age of thirty-five, to study the profession of a vet- 
 erinary surgeon, and in the course of an almost incredibly 
 short space of time, he obtained a professorship at the col- 
 lege. Having thus acquired a new experience, and having 
 still retained his literary taste, he published a little work on 
 the " Management of the Dog," which soon became a prac- 
 tical text-book. In process of time he brought his newly-ac- 
 quired knowledge to bear upon the treatment of the horse ; 
 and issued an elaborate work, called "The Illustrated Horse- 
 Doctor," which was followed by a kindred production, under 
 the title of " The Illustrated Stable Management." Both 
 these books proved him to be a most valuable authority upon
 
 THE MA YHEW FA MIL Y. 299 
 
 the habits, diseases, and characteristics of horses ; and it is not 
 a little remarkable that during the time he was preparing them, 
 and for some years afterwards, he was confined to his room by 
 a paralytic affection which rendered it impossible for him to 
 walk ; but his energy and perseverance never forsook him, 
 and so well had he stored his mind with all that was essential 
 to him in the task he had undertaken, that he supplied the 
 great majority of the illustrations, as well as the letter-press. 
 It happened, by the purest accident, that " The Illustrated 
 Stable Management " came into my hands for review in a 
 morning newspaper, and Edward Mayhew, learning from one 
 of his brothers that the notice of the book was written by me, 
 addressed me a letter, in which he said 
 
 " I know how much I am indebted to your good feeling for 
 the sentiments you have expressed concerning my book, and 
 as an acknowledgment of the obligation, which, believe me, I 
 am sincerely alive to, will you allow me to offer you the in- 
 closed note ? 1 I should not have imposed on you the trouble 
 which it necessitates ; but being absent from London, circum - 
 stances compel me to trespass on your good-nature. I feel, 
 while making this offer, I am presenting you with that which 
 must be of small value to you ; but will you kindly accept the 
 gift as an emblem of gratitude ? 
 
 " I have a pretty place down here, .in a pretty spot. 2 Tr.iins 
 run cheap during the autumn. Should you ever feel disposed 
 for a week of cool, moist atmosphere, pray remember that 
 both I and Mrs. Mayhew will endeavor to make you comfort- 
 able." 
 
 Poor Edward Mayhew ! His physical strength was origi- 
 nally proportionate to his mental power ; but for a period of 
 fifteen years he was compelled to fight the battle of life with 
 brains alone ; and this he did with such success that he has 
 
 1 To Messrs. Allen, the publishers, requesting them to hand me a copy of the 
 work. 
 
 * The neighborhood of Torquay.
 
 300 GEORGE HODDER. 
 
 gained for himself an enduring name. The circumstances of 
 his death were such as to show that it indeed behooves us "to 
 bear the ills we have " with philosophic resignation. As al- 
 ready observed, Edward Mayhew was deprived of the use of 
 his limbs for fifteen years. At the expiration of that time he 
 suddenly rose from his chair, the wheels of which had afforded 
 him the only means of locomotion, and walked ! The effect 
 upon the nervous system was apparently too powerful for a 
 constitution weakened by the very severe trial to which it had 
 been subjected ; and in the course of ten days he ceased to 
 be! 
 
 In the designs for an improved form of stables, several of 
 which are included in the " Illustrated Stable Management," 
 Edward Mayhew was ably assisted by his brother Julius, who, 
 being educated for an architect, and having always cultivated 
 a taste for art, especially in regard to those principles which 
 demand a perfect knowledge of perspective, was essentially 
 qualified for the task ; and a reference to the book will at once 
 testify that, although never assuming the dignity of a pro- 
 fessed artist, he skillfully and effectually carried out the views 
 and intentions of the author. As, however, he has never 
 aspired to be a "public character," I forbear to give to his 
 name a prominence which I know he would immediately re- 
 pel ; and yet I must allude, for one instant only, to the pleas- 
 ure I have many a time derived from his society on certain 
 "tramping' expeditions with him and his brother Augustus, 
 when, in our walks through the country, we have left the cares 
 of the world behind us, and have made ourselves the happiest 
 of mortals, by appreciating to the full the humblest means of 
 enjoyment. 
 
 As to Augustus Mayhew (always familiarly called " Gus "), 
 the youngest branch of the tree, one would suppose that he 
 never knew what care was, so jocund and light-hearted is he 
 invariably found to be in the midst of his friends. He can be 
 serious, very serious, when any strong sense of injury, either 
 to himself or to an esteemed companion, or to any social cause 
 which he has warmly espoused, has t.ikc-n firm possession of
 
 THE MAYHEW FAMILY. 30 1 
 
 him ; but his unbounded good-humor and world-defying friend- 
 liness have inevitably pointed him out as a man to whom For- 
 tune's buffets and rewards would seem to be alike indifferent. 
 As an artist, he is little known, though in his delineations of 
 every-day scenes and characters he has betrayed much graphic 
 and perceptive power, but as a writer he has abundantly 
 shown, in his " Faces for Fortunes," his " Finest Girl in 
 Bloomsbury," and " Paved with Gold " (commenced in the 
 form of a serial, in conjunction with his brother Henry, who, 
 however, retired from it after the publication of the first two 
 or three numbers), that he unites the elements of .a graceful 
 fancy and a broad sense of the ludicrous in a manner which is 
 not often seen. But it is in society rather than in books that 
 his light shines brightest (as has been said of many men of 
 literary distinction), for in the task of writing he is necessarily 
 under some restraint, lest ideas should find their way to the 
 public eye which are only adapted to the private ear ; whereas 
 in conversation he is not compelled to " weigh his words be- 
 fore he gives them breath ; " and hence he is enabled to in- 
 dulge those peculiar modes of thought and expression which 
 are amusing from their reckless originality, as well as from the 
 keen insight they display into the follies and impostures of so- 
 ciety. The fertility of his invention in the use of adjectives 
 and similes, to give breadth and color to a daring conception, 
 is conspicuously seen in his account of a prize-fight in " Paved 
 with Gold," which contains a sufficient number of suggestions 
 to enable a writer in " Bell's Life " to improve and strengthen 
 his eccentric vocabulary. As an example of the grotesque 
 roughness of his humor I may mention an incident which has 
 often been alluded to by those who witnessed it, as affording 
 a remarkable specimen of his peculiar characteristics. An al- 
 tercation had occurred between Augustus's friends and an in- 
 solent, domineering sort of fellow, who had threatened per- 
 sonal chastisement to his opponent, and seemed inclined to 
 put his resolve into execution ; whereupon the stalwart May- 
 hew, advancing towards him with clenched fist and distend- 
 ing his capacious form to its fullest proportions, exclaimed.
 
 302 GEORGE HODDEK. 
 
 ** By gad, s!r ! dare to lay one finger upon my friend, and in 
 five minutes your wife and children shall not know you ! "' 
 Whether or not the individual whose facial outlines were thus 
 vehemently menaced was blessed with a wife and children it 
 did not appear, nor was it a question which entered for one 
 moment into Augustus's consideration, but the magnanimous 
 character of the phrase had the desired effect, for the lion 
 immediately ceased roaring, and the object of his wrath went 
 away with a whole skin. 
 
 Before quitting this part of my recollections I should state, 
 il it be npt already understood, that to Henry Mayhew I am 
 indebted for my first introduction to the society of men of 
 letters ; and that long since I became known to him, a change 
 has come over his literary aspirations ; for the ability he then 
 displayed, as a writer of farces, and as a contributor to comic 
 periodicals, he subsequently diverted into a widely different 
 channel. This change has been exemplified in a series of 
 lectures, called " What to Teach, and How to Teach it," and 
 in his two valuable books, " London Labor and the London 
 Poor," and "The Great World of London" works wlm h 
 have rendered more lasting service to the community and to 
 himself than could possibly be achieved by any exercise of 
 fun or fiction, even from the most fertile brain. 
 
 I am sure I need offer no apology for the allusions I have 
 made to the Mayhew family (a family better known to fame 
 than many writers of loftier pretensions), for they are well 
 aware of the kindly spirit in which every word is intended ; 
 and this volume, however imperfect it may be, would be infi- 
 nitely more so were 1 to omit all mention of such intimate allies 
 and friends. 
 
 It is interesting to note, in following the gradations of time, 
 what singular transitions have taken place in the minds of 
 men devoted to literary pursuits. When Douglas Jerrold 
 wrote " Black-eyed Susan," it would have been difficult to 
 believe that he would ever become the editor of a popular 
 journal, such as " Lloyd's Weekly Newspaper " (a position 
 which he occupied for five years, to the period of his death) ;
 
 JOHN LEECH. 303 
 
 or when Thackeray penned " The Yellow-plush Correspond- 
 ence " in " Eraser's Magazine," that he would in after-days 
 " witch the world " as the writer of " Esmond," and " The 
 Newcomes ; " or when Henry Mayhew produced his farce of 
 " The Wandering Minstrel," that he would eventually make 
 himself known as an authority on social statistics, as he has 
 done in his " London Labor and the London Poor." 
 
 JOHN LEECH. 
 
 Valuable contributors to the amusements of the table, as 
 they were to the pages of " Punch," were John Leech, Albert 
 Smith, and Kenny Meadows the two former having been on 
 terms of intimacy long before that work was established ; but 
 my desire is not so much to speak of them in reference to 
 their doings for " Punch," as to indicate what manner of men 
 they were in relation to the " small sweet courtesies " of life. 
 It was through John Leech's friendly interces'sion that I first 
 became a contributor to " Bentley's Miscellany " (in the year 
 1848), to which publication he was then a fixed adherent. I 
 had written a little story, and on my submitting it to Leech's 
 opinion, he was kind enough to tell the authorities, with the 
 utmost earnestness, that, if the paper should be accepted, he 
 would gladly illustrate it. The result was that it was pub- 
 lished, with an admirable etching by Leech, and was followed 
 the next month by another, which also was touched by his 
 artistic hand. Leech's friendliness and good-fellowship were 
 well known to those who understood his reserved, unostenta- 
 tious nature ; and having adduced one proof of those quali- 
 ties in him, I may fitly mention another, though I honestly 
 wish it had reference to somebody other than my perpetually 
 recurring self. In the illustrations to a little book, called 
 " Sketches of Life and Character, taken at the Police Court, 
 Bow Street," he rendered me most essential service by the 
 exercise of his inimitable pencil ; and I know that, in like 
 manner, he lent a " helping hand " (in more than one sense of 
 the term) to many a young aspirant in whom he felt an interest, 
 and who appreciated the importance of securing the aid of his 
 valuable name.
 
 304 GEORGE HODDKK. 
 
 In the " Punch " times to which I have adverted, it was the 
 habit of Albert Smith to call him familiarly and brusquely 
 "Jack," while his still more intimate friend, Percival Leigli, 
 addressed him as "John," or "Leech," and this was so re- 
 pugnant to Jerrold's taste and feelings, that at length he 
 exploded with the following pertinent query : " Leech, how 
 long is it necessary for a man to know you before he may call 
 you Jack f " No reply ; but if my recollection serves me, 
 "Jack " was sounded in our ears much less frequently on sub- 
 sequent occasions. 
 
 Among the many little domestic gatherings to which the 
 meetings of the " Punch " contributors gave rise, none were 
 more agreeable or more memorable than the dinner-parties at 
 John Leech's house first at Powis Place, and afterwards at 
 Notting Hill and Kensington. In one notable instance within 
 my recollection, Leech had invited some ten or more gentle- 
 men, consisting chiefly of his fellow-laborers in the establish- 
 ment of Mr. Punch, to dine with him in Powis Place, and he 
 had engaged for the occasion the services of an extra attend- 
 ant, whose ordinary occupation was not that of the traditional 
 " greengrocer," but that of a parish clerk. The guests were 
 assembled in the drawing-room, selon le regtt, preparatory to 
 the banquet ; and it was at length observed that there was an 
 unusual delay in announcing the dinner. This was all the 
 more noticeable, because John Leech's household arrange- 
 ments were generally conducted upon the best principles of 
 order and regularity ; and the guests were one and all in such 
 high intellectual vigor, and so well prepared to enjoy " the 
 feast of reason and the flow of soul," that they began to fear 
 they should exhaust their stock of mental ammunition in a 
 succession of skirmishes before the evening's war began. 
 Whether the parish clerk had disconcerted the cook by the 
 solemnity of his presence, or whether the latter, being of a 
 serious turn of mind, was afflicted with a tender sensation 
 which upset her culinary calculations, it was never clearly as- 
 certained ; but there could be little doubt that there was 
 something not quite right between the kitchen and the dining-
 
 SIR HENRY WEBB, 305 
 
 room. After a somewhat significant pause, however, a solemn 
 figure, attired in black, and wearing a white neckerchief of 
 most orthodox character and proportions (in a clerical point of 
 view), appeared in the room, and in a style of elocution which 
 would have well befitted his calling in the church, gave the 
 welcome announcement, " The dinner is on the table ! " 
 "Amen!" cried the assembled guests, with corresponding 
 solemnity ; and one and all descended to the dining-room, 
 tittering at the comically doleful manner in which so impor- 
 tant a preliminary to an enlivening entertainment had been 
 carried into effect. 
 
 John Leech possessed among his many excellent qualities, 
 that of a fine bass voice ; and the gentlemen of the " Punch " 
 conclave will remember how often, in the midst of their rejoic- 
 ings, he diverted their thoughts from the humorous to matters 
 of more serious moment, by singing Barry Cornwall's song, 
 " King Death was a rare old fellow." On one occasion, 
 when he had sung this song with even more than his usual 
 vigor, Douglas Jerrold exclaimed, " I say, Leech, if you had 
 the same opportunity of exercising your voice as you have 
 of using your pencil, how it would draw ! " 
 
 SIR HENRY WEBB. 
 
 John Leech used to tell an amusing anecdote of Sir Henry 
 Webb, whose tall military figure and aristocratic head were at 
 one time as familiar in the stalls of the theatre, especially on 
 " first nights," as were the rubicund countenances of Lord 
 Adolphus Fitzclarence and the late Sir George Wombwell in 
 the omnibus-box at the Italian Opera House in the Hay- 
 market. Some one had informed Sir Henry that a terrible 
 murder had just taken place in the metropolis, and that the 
 culprit had not yet been apprehended. Sir Henry appeared, or 
 affected to be, deeply interested in the matter ; and at once 
 proceeded to make inquiries, his deep, heavy voice giving due 
 solemnity to the questions he put. " Dear me ! another mur- 
 der ! " he exclaimed ; " and what sort of murder ? " Answer 
 "A poor girl shot by her sweetheart. " Dear me ! dear 
 20
 
 306 GEORGE HODDEK. 
 
 me ! " said the distressed gentleman. " Girl shot by her 
 sweetheart ! Dreadful ! dreadful ! And when did it take 
 place?" Answer "Yesterday morning." Sir Henry 
 " God bless me ! Yesterday morning ! Is it possible ! " 
 Answer " True ; the girl was murdered yesterday morning, 
 and by a fellow who was supposed to be her lover." Sir 
 Henry " Dear me ! dear me ! very shocking, indeed ! And 
 at what time yesterday morning ? " Answer " Between six 
 and seven o'clock." Sir Henry "Gracious goodness! Be- 
 tween six and seven o'clock ! What an early hour ! Very 
 awful ! very awful ! And what was the cause of the murder ? ' 
 Answer " Jealousy." Sir Henry " Jealousy ! Heaven 
 defend us ! Horrible indeed ! Jealousy ! And what was the 
 girl's name ? " Answer " Martha Jones." Sir Henry 
 " Dear me ! dear me ! Martha Jones ! More and more 
 shocking ! And the murderer, what was his name ? " An- 
 swer " Philip Brown." Sir Henry " Philip Brown ! God 
 bless me ! Philip Brown ! this is bad indeed ! Well, well, 
 well ! Martha Jones shot by Philip Brown ! And where was 
 the murder committed?" Answer "In Rosamond Street, 
 Clerkenwell." Sir Henry "Great Heavens ! In Rosamond 
 Street, Clerkenwell ! How very extraordinary ! God bless 
 me ! In Rosamond Street, Clerkenwell ! Then -we must bear it 
 as well as ive can ! " The locality was too much for his weak 
 nerves ; but Sir Henry partook of a grand supper immediately 
 afterwards, and on the following morning he had forgotten 
 all about poor Martha Jones and Rosamond Street, Clerken- 
 well. 
 
 ALBERT SMITH. 
 
 Albert Smith's connection with " Punch " arose from the 
 fact of his being known as a successful writer in a comic pe- 
 riodical, called the " Cosmorama," then in course of publica- 
 tion under the auspices of Mr. Last, the printer ; and his first 
 contributions to the new work consisted of "The Physiology 
 of the London Medical Student " (which, however, had already 
 been written, in brief, by Paul Prendergast, in " The Heads of 
 the People "). He continued for a long time to be a zealous
 
 ALBERT SMITH. 307 
 
 and valuable member of the literary staff, and certainly wrote 
 many of the most entertaining descriptions of English social 
 life which appeared in " Punch's " columns at a period when 
 the contents were better adapted to the million than they have 
 been in later days. But it was more particularly in regard to 
 the " Illuminated Magazine " and " Bentley's Miscellany " 
 that I came in contact with Albert Smith, and he was always 
 found to be a writer on whose promises editors and publishers 
 could implicitly rely. He was a most frank and agreeable 
 companion among those whose idiosyncrasies he relished ; 
 and the following letters will show that he could be as kind 
 and friendly as he was frank and cheerful. The first refers to 
 the period when I was about to visit Paris at the time of the 
 revolution, and Albert Smith had promised to get me a letter 
 of introduction from Charles Kenney to Jules Janin, the dra- 
 matic feuilletoniste of the "Journal des De"bats ; " the second 
 is an answer to a note I had sent him, asking him to contrib- 
 ute an article to, I think, the " Illuminated Magazine," upon 
 the subject of Chamouni, which then occupied a great deal of 
 his time ; and the ostensible object of the third (addressed to 
 me when I was at Boulogne) was to express his regret that he 
 could not give me an opportunity of supplying one of the pa- 
 pers to " Gavarni in London," an ephemeral affair, of which 
 he was the editor. 
 
 " MY DEAR GEORGE, In case I do not see you, I inclose 
 Kenney's letter of introduction (for you) to Jules Janin. I 
 think the number is 20 [Rue Vaugirard], but if not, any 
 one in the neighborhood will tell you. It is close to the 
 Odeon, and near my old home, ' en dtudiant. 1 Now to my 
 own business. I have put in a letter for Markwell, 1 which you 
 will perhaps be good enough to give him ; and also a copy of 
 ' Tadpole ; ' and a letter I will thank you very much to deliver. 
 The family live at Capecure, just over the bridge. You cross 
 the bridge, turn to the right, and then it is the second house 
 
 1 William Markwell, a much respected wine merchant, and formerly well known 
 for the interest he took in dramatic literature.
 
 308 GEORGE" HODDER. 
 
 to your left. Altogether it is not five minutes from the Hotel 
 du Nord. I hope the book will not cumber your carpet-bag. 
 If they should say anything at the Douane (which they will not), 
 show them the writing on the title-page, and say it is not a 
 new one that will be enough. I hope you will have a jolly 
 time, singing ' Mourir pour la Patrie.' 
 
 " Yours always, 
 
 " ALBERT SMITH." 
 
 " Your letter about Chamouni followed me to all sorts of 
 places. I was, however, too much occupied with collecting 
 matter for my ' Mont Blanc ' book, to undertake anything 
 else. 
 
 " We had great fun, and the inundation caused much excite- 
 ment. I suppose you saw Russell's account of it in the 
 ' Times.' In a hurry, yours always, 
 
 "ALBERT SMITH." 
 
 " I wish we had been nearer to one another, as I could to- 
 day have put one of the Gavarni papers into your hands. But 
 the next number winds up the work ; and he is such a queer 
 customer that I never know until the last minute what subjects 
 he has fixed upon, and then everything has to be scrambled 
 up by whoever I can put my hand upon. I shall be heartily 
 glad to wash my hands of it. We somewhat envy you at 
 Boulogne. London is miserably dull just now, and everything 
 flat as ditch-water, including, I am sorry to say, books. I 
 have kept back my next ' Act ' till December, things were 
 selling so badly. 
 
 " I have a slight notion of going into farming ! ! Don't 
 laugh and with Joe ! ! ! * Don't laugh again not believing 
 in literature as a permanency. We think of renting a cheap 
 slip of Jane C 's land, at Hill Park, and building pig- 
 styes, keeping fowls, etc. I don't mean, of course, to give up 
 London, or rush into any heavy agricultural speculations, but 
 I think we shall be able to turn a few coppers in the course of 
 
 1 Joseph Robins, the now popular comedian, but in those days a gentleman enjoy- 
 ing more leisure than employment.
 
 ALBERT SMITH. 309 
 
 the year at a small risk. I would sooner make a pound by 
 selling a porker than write a page of ' Bentley.' 
 
 " Last night I met Thackeray at the Cyder Cellars, and we 
 stayed there until three in the morning. He is a very jolly 
 fellow, and no ' High Art ' about him. 
 
 " Old Brough has bought the ' Man in the Moon ' of In- 
 gram ; and Angus 1 has a serial out on the ist a heavy, 
 melodramatic, go-ahead story. Horace Mayhevv is in the 
 agonies of the ' Almanack,' 2 in which I have been helping 
 him. It is an open opposition to ' Punch's Pocket-Book.' I 
 wish they could get it out first. 
 
 " Let us have a line now and then, when you have a chance ; 
 and believe me, with best regards to all friends." .... 
 
 In one of the above letters it will be seen that Albert Smith 
 speaks of " envying me at Boulogne ; " and I am thus re- 
 minded that some of my most agreeable reminiscences of him 
 revert to a time when he and his brother Arthur, and Joseph 
 Robins, were enjoying together a few weeks' stay in that town. 
 Being by good luck on a visit there myself at the same mo- 
 ment, I saw Smith and his two companions daily ; and rather 
 than mingle with the noise and confusion of that restless 
 watering-place, we preferred an exclusive diversion of our 
 own. This consisted in our meeting on the sands in the 
 morning, and paddling to one of the little villages which lie 
 along that part of the coast. This was Albert Smith's favor- 
 ite enjoyment at Boulogne ; and the many pleasant illustra- 
 tions he gave us of the " whims and oddities " of life, as seen 
 in his own experience, were ably seconded by the practical 
 humor of Joe Robins, who already indicated the possession of 
 that innate sense of drollery which has since been success- 
 fully developed on the stage. So warmly attached was Albert 
 
 1 Angus B. Reach one of the foremost contributors to the periodical literature 
 of that time. The serial referred to was a romance, called Clement Larimer, or 
 the Book with the Iron Clasps. 
 
 2 George Cruikshank's Comic Almanack. H. M. was also associated with a pub- 
 lication called The Almanack of the Month, a clever little serial, nominally edited 
 by Gilbert 4 Beckett, but suggested and put together by the former.
 
 310 GEORGE HODDER. 
 
 to Boulogne before he became thoroughly imbued with that 
 Alpine spirit which led him constantly to Chamouni, and ulti- 
 mately to the summit of Mont Blanc, that in one of his fugi- 
 tive pieces he wrote a tribute to its merits and attractions, 
 from which I give the following extract as a characteristic 
 specimen of his style : 
 
 " In contradistinction to the imaginary enjoyment of other 
 watering-places, let us take the pleasant, careless Boulogne. 
 It has been customary to deride this new key-hole to the Con- 
 tinent ; to joke about the mobs who fly there, like the ships, 
 for a harbor of refuge ; to allude to stags and sharpers, and 
 broken incomes in fact, to throw every possible slur upon it 
 and its inhabitants. And yet there is no place in the world 
 where really pleasant relaxation can be so readily procured, 
 and at such a cheap rate. You will be told by its enemies 
 that Boulogne is now quite an English town. Don't believe 
 them. What is there English in its gay, lively port, and lines 
 of smart hotels its thorough continental Rue Neuve Chaus- 
 se'e and tnoyen-&ge Upper Town its poissarde population, 
 with their short red petticoats and naked legs or blue stock- 
 ings its hundreds of glittering white caps in the Place on 
 market-day ? Walk a mile away from it in any direction, to- 
 wards Wimereux, Wimille, or Portel, and you will see as much 
 of France as though you had been right across it from Bou- 
 logne to Besan9on. Where will you show us such a glorious 
 stroll as that along the cliffs to Ambleteuse, with the sea and 
 the picturesque rocks and Martello towers so far below you, 
 and literally in sight of home all the way, if the day be but 
 moderately clear ? 
 
 " There is no ennui at Boulogne, because there is no con- 
 ventional observance of rules of deportment. Everybody does 
 what he likes, not what he thinks he ought to like. And if 
 you wish it, there is a charming private society. In fact, 
 Boulogne is fining down to exceeding respectability ; for it has 
 become a trifle too expensive for the outlawed tribes, and they 
 have emigrated, many, we believe, to Calais." 
 
 Apropos of Albert Smith's ascent of Mont Blanc, and the
 
 ALBERT SMITH. 31 I 
 
 deservedly popular entertainment which sprang from it, I shall 
 here introduce a burlesque form of invitation sent by him to 
 his friends on the occasion of opening or reopening what he 
 boldly called " the show." This may possibly have been pub- 
 lished before ; but if so, I cannot very justly be charged with 
 " piracy," for I have never yet seen it except in its origina. 
 form ; and as it was addressed to me personally, I hope I may 
 be allowed to deal with it according to my own inclination. In 
 the first place, however, let me state that I chanced to dine 
 in Albert Smith's company at the Cheshire Cheese, in Fleet 
 Street, on the evening before he started from London on his 
 journey to Chamouni. His animal spirits were tuned to a 
 high key, and he spoke in rapturous terms of his intended 
 visit ; but I had not the least idea that he proposed to do 
 more than spend a few weeks at his favorite resort. 
 
 " Off to-morrow morning ! " he exclaimed ; " and I shall 
 make the ascent of Mont Blanc in a day or two." 
 
 "Bold thing to do," I said, "for a man who has not 
 been in training, and you are rather heavy for a mountain 
 climber." 
 
 " Never mind," he replied. " Pluck will serve me instead 
 of training ; and I have n't the slightest fear." 
 
 When I afterwards shook hands with him I cordially wished 
 hin a " ban voyage" and the next time I saw him he had 
 written his story of Mont Blanc, and was preparing his enter- 
 tainment. 
 
 The following is a literal transcript of the document just 
 referred to : 
 
 " We, Albert Smith, one of Her Britannic Majesty's repre- 
 sentatives on the summit of Mont Blanc, Knight of the most 
 noble order of the Grands Mulcts, Baron Galignani of Picca- 
 dilly, Knight of the Grand Crossing from Burlington Arcade 
 to the Egyptian Hall, Member of the Society for the Confu- 
 sion of Useless Knowledge, Secretary for his own Affairs, 
 etc., etc., etc. 
 
 " Request and require in the name of His Majesty the Mon-
 
 312 GEORGE HODDER. 
 
 arch of Mountains all those whom it may concern, more espe- 
 cially the Police on the Piccadilly Frontier, to allow George 
 Hodder to pass freely in at the street-door of the Egyptian 
 Hall, and up-stairs to the Mont Blanc Room, on the evening of 
 Saturday, Dec. I, 1855, at 8 p. M., and to afford him every 
 assistance in the way of oysters, stout, champagne, soda and 
 brandy, and other aid of which he may stand in need. 
 
 " Given at the Box-office, Piccadilly, 28th day of November, 
 1855. ALBERT SMITH. 
 
 " God Save the Queen ! 
 
 " Vu au bureau de la Salle. Bon pour entrer Piccadilly, 
 par P Arcade de Burlington. TRUEFITT. 
 
 " SAMKDI, \tt December, 1855. 
 
 "Viseed for the Garrick and Fielding Clubs, the Vaults 
 below the Houses of Parliament, Truefitt's Hair-cutting Sa- 
 loon, the Glacier de Gunter, Jullien's, Laurent's, the Cafe" de 
 1'Europe, Pratt's, Limmer's, and all other places on the Rhine, 
 between Rule's Marine Museum, or Appetizing Aquarium, and 
 the Jolly Grenadier public-house, No. i, Ellison Square, Pall 
 Mall, South Sebastopol. RULE. 
 
 " Notice. By the recent police enactments regulating large 
 assemblies in the neighborhood of Piccadilly, this passport 
 must be considered as available for one person only, and does 
 not include the ' friend ' who has always been dining with the 
 bearer." 
 
 Albert Smith made few enemies, but many friends, and his 
 name is invariably alluded to amongst them in terms which 
 sufficiently show that his loss, as a quick-witted, lively com- 
 panion, still continues to be felt. Indeed it may be said that 
 apart from his merit as a pleasant and humorous writer, he oc- 
 cupied a position as a public " entertainer " which has never yet 
 been worthily filled.
 
 KENNY ME ADO WS. 313 
 
 KENNY MEADOWS. 
 
 Of Kenny Meadows I had much experience in his domestic 
 life ; and in that position he was invariably as communicative 
 as he was cordial, ready at all times to repeat anecdotes of 
 great men whom he had known familiarly, and to relate many 
 of the interesting vicissitudes of his own checkered career. 
 William Godwin, the author of " Caleb Williams," he had met 
 as a social companion ; and " Tom Moore " he had seen in the 
 poet's own drawing-room, practicing a song at the pianoforte ; 
 and he was particularly struck with the bright, dapper, unpoetic 
 look of the little man, as he sat there en dishabille, and he was 
 much gratified at the very polite manner in which he received 
 him. 
 
 Meadows's written, but not published, account of this in- 
 terview was to the effect that he had been requested by the 
 Messrs. Longmans, of Paternoster Row, to wait upon Moore 
 then living in Duke Street, St. James's with a letter, which 
 he was enjoined to place in his own hands, and not to come 
 away without doing so. The poet was from home when the 
 artist first knocked at his door ; and hence the latter, pursuant 
 to the instructions he had received, " wandered about to kill 
 time " (to use his own words). On his presenting himself at 
 the house a second time, the servant informed him that Mr. 
 Moore had just come in, and he was ushered up-stairs. " The 
 little exquisite " had pulled off his boots, and, to Meadows's 
 astonishment, he displayed flesh-colored silk stockings a 
 piece of vanity which would excite much less surprise, now 
 that the biography of the poet has become known. He politely 
 handed a chair to his visitor, and begged him to be seated 
 while he wrote a reply to the note the latter had delivered 
 to him. This task accomplished, Moore made some com- 
 plimentary allusion to certain illustrations Meadows had re- 
 cently published ; " but," says the latter, in describing the 
 interview, " if I could have looked into the seeds of time and 
 have known the poet's subsequent criticism upon my drawing 
 of ' The Peri,' I would have damaged his curly black head 
 for him."
 
 314 GEORGE HODDER. 
 
 Meadows was essentially valuable to " Punch " for the 
 thoughtfulness of his designs as exemplified, for instance, 
 in " Punch's Letters to his Son," " Punch's Complete Letter 
 Writer," and many of the " cartoons," which were intended to 
 portray something more than a burlesque view of a current 
 event or a popular abuse. The quiet, unostentatious way in 
 which he worked at his art, too often under the most adverse 
 and discouraging circumstances, and the pride he displayed 
 when he felt that he had made a " happy hit," was somewhat like 
 the enthusiasm of a youth who had just attained the honor of 
 a prize. As a draughtsman, he never cared to be guided by 
 those practical laws which regulate the academic exercise of 
 the pictorial art ; for he contended that too strict an adherence 
 to Nature only trammeled him, and he preferred relying upon 
 the thought conveyed in his illustrations, rather than upon the 
 mechanical correctness of his outline or perspective. Among 
 the many ideas on which he congratulated himself, he often 
 alluded to his design illustrating the blessings of peace, which 
 he typified by placing a butterfly at the mouth of a cannon. 
 This he rejoiced to think had preceded Sir Edwin Landseer's 
 picture of " Peace," in which the distinguished royal academ- 
 ician represented a lamb in the same position that Meadows 
 had given to the butterfly. It is hardly to be supposed that 
 Sir Edwin Landseer borrowed his notion from that of Kenny 
 Meadows ; but the latter, not unnaturally, considered there was 
 presumptive evidence in favor of the supposition. 
 
 Meadows was very fond of a quiet stroll into the country 
 as far as Hampstead or Highgate ; both of which places had 
 from long custom more charms for him than he could see in 
 any other accessible spot within a short distance of the me- 
 tropolis. Highgate, with its picturesque rural neighborhood, 
 was especially full of interesting associations for him ; and he 
 would frequently stop short at the entrance to some snug-look- 
 ing residence notably, for example, that of Mr. Gillman, 
 once famous as the home of the poet Coleridge and expati- 
 ate upon the public virtues and private characters of its for- 
 mer inmates, and upon events which had occurred therein
 
 KENNY MEADOWS. 3 1 5 
 
 during his own experience. In speaking of the Gillmans, he 
 said the only reward they received for their hospitable conduct 
 (but it was a great one, added Meadows) "was that of an 
 immortality, for who would ever have heard of them but for 
 their connection with the great poet ? " Meadows, in these 
 our pleasant perambulations, was wont to speak of an old lady 
 who kept the Lion and Sun hotel in that neighborhood. This 
 was a favorite resort of Coleridge, and the communicative land- 
 lady used to remark that he was a great talker, and " when he 
 began there was no stopping him." Whenever she returned 
 to the room, she said, after leaving it for a short time, he would 
 still be "going on," and sometimes he made such a noise that 
 she wished him further. Innocent grandam ! Little she 
 dreamt that in after time his " talk " would be treasured by the 
 world as amongst the choicest fruits of genius ! 
 
 Indeed, an afternoon's walk with Kenny Meadows from 
 Camden Town, where he long resided, to Highgate, and an 
 hour's rest at the Gate House, formed a most healthful recrea- 
 tion to me ; for the benefit I derived from listening to my old 
 friend on one of those pleasant rambles seemed to bring back 
 a link from the past, so amply stored was his mind with the 
 recollection of events which had happened within his experi- 
 ence. But Meadows was not always the mentor or mere 
 cicerone on these occasions ; for he would sometimes be in a 
 jocular mood, and not disposed to take a serious and retro- 
 spective view of things which he brought under my notice. I 
 had told him that a few evenings previously I had visited a 
 friend of his at Kentish Town, and that when the door was 
 opened the whole of his family, numbering about twelve, 
 stood in the passage ! At once perceiving that there was 
 something extremely ludicrous in the picture, Meadows turned 
 
 it to account by observing that he pitied poor , for his 
 
 children were so numerous you could n't shut the street-door 
 for them ! 
 
 At the time of " Punch's " original gatherings Kenny Mead- 
 ows was the Nestor of the party ; and at this present writing 
 he is, I have reason to believe, in a condition of health very
 
 316 GEORGE HODDER. 
 
 little impaired by his advanced age, but is enjoying, at the 
 close of a life in which he has seen too much that was bitter, 
 the sweets of a Government pension, bestowed upon him by 
 Lord Palmerston, for his poetical illustrations to " Tyas's 
 Shakespeare." 
 
 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK. 
 
 By a natural association of ideas, the name of George 
 Cruikshank seems to connect itself with that of Kenny Mead- 
 ows, for there is not much difference in their ages, and both 
 have spent the greater part of a long life in illustrating popu- 
 lar works by the exercise of an imaginative power which has 
 always added strength and grace to the subject-matter they 
 have undertaken to embody. It would be idle to remark that 
 there is a great deal that is not common between them ; but 
 each has oftentimes given pictorial expression to an idea 
 which the other would have been proud to conceive. There 
 was a time when anecdotes were rife concerning George 
 Cruikshank's bonhomie before he signed the teetotaler's 
 pledge ; but in the long lapse of years they have almost faded 
 from the memory, and he is now as familiarly known as the 
 enthusiastic apostle of temperance, as he is for the moral 
 lessons he has taught in his designs. 
 
 " Now, this won't do ! " he will exclaim if he meets an inti- 
 mate friend who he can plainly perceive has not limited his li- 
 bations entirely to cold water for the last few hours. " Do you 
 see that house there ? " " Yes." " Ah," continues Cruikshank, 
 "he was a worthy fellow who once lived there ; but drink, sir, 
 drink settled him, as it has done many a man." " Well, but 
 in moderation" replies the individual thus admonished. 
 " Moderation !" cries George ; "don't talk to me about mod- 
 eration ; there's no such thing in regard to drink. Give it up 
 entirely, as I have done, or it will give you up." " Well, but 
 you see" "See!" rejoins the mentor, interrupting him. 
 " Why, look at me. What do you think of that for an arm at 
 seventy odd years of age " (extending his right arm and dis- 
 playing it, as if about to strike a blow). " Where 's the drinkei
 
 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK. 317 
 
 who could show such an arm at the same age ? " I once men- 
 tioned this fact to Kenny Meadows, after it had been told me 
 by the person to whom it had occurred, and Meadows ob- 
 served, laughingly, " Well, I have drunk my share in my time, 
 and I am older than Cruikshank, and find nothing to complain 
 of in my muscular power." But no one could, for a moment, 
 gainsay the zeal and honesty with which George Cruikshank 
 has devoted himself to the cause of teetotalism ; and there 
 cannot be a doubt that he has effected considerable good by 
 his precept and example. Of the various public occasions on 
 which I have seen Cruikshank in the exercise of his function 
 as a disciple of total abstinence, I call to mind one instance, as 
 quite sufficient to exemplify the pains he has taken to incul- 
 cate the virtue, despite the severe test to which his patience 
 has often been exposed. Some years since, when Henry 
 Mayhew, in the progress of his work, " London Labor and the 
 London Poor," had made himself familiar with the coster- 
 mongers of London, that earnest writer presided at a supper 
 given to the fraternity in a remote part of the East end. The 
 only drink to be consumed was to consist of water and ginger- 
 beer ; and amongst the company at the principal table was 
 George Cruikshank, who looked on with delight at the exem- 
 plary conduct of a body of men whom he had always been 
 taught to suppose were the very opposite of teetotalers. 
 
 In the course of the evening a speech was delivered by the 
 treasurer of the Costermongers' Society (the exact name of 
 which I forget), and, on hearing this, the honest-hearted 
 George began to think that it was time the costers were 
 ranked among the public teachers, instead of being classed 
 with the pariahs of society. Unfortunately, the ginger-beer 
 bottles were convenient vessels for carrying something more 
 potent than water ; and there were certain individuals, seated 
 in close proximity to the chairman and his redoubtable sup- 
 porter, George Cruikshank, who had taken an opportunity of 
 smuggling into the room, by means of one of the said bottles, 
 an alcoholic decoction of the same color as aqua pura. This 
 was of course entirely unknown either to the chairman or to
 
 318 GEORGE HODDER. 
 
 Cruikshank, and when the latter, in addressing the polite as- 
 sembly, congratulated them upon the happiness they were en- 
 joying, " with nothing before them in the shape of drink 
 stronger than water," great was his horror, just as he pro- 
 nounced the last word in the sentence, at hearing a voice ex- 
 claim, " How deuced weak ! " The traitor was drinking gin 
 under the very nostrils of teetotalism ! The imperturbable 
 Cruikshank said nothing, but the look he gave was intended 
 to throw poison into the spirit ! As to the eloquent treasurer, 
 his connection with the society was not calculated to render 
 much service to the cause, for it soon afterwards transpired 
 that he had embezzled the funds intrusted to his keeping ! 
 
 In the works of George Cruikshank there is a curious in- 
 stance in proof of the fact that artists have often produced 
 their finest effects by pure accident, when every attempt to at- 
 tain the desired object by toil and care has failed. When the 
 great George brought forth his remarkable figure of Fagin in 
 the condemned cell, where the Jew malefactor is represented 
 biting his finger-nails in the tortures of remorse and chagrin, 
 Horace Mayhew took an opportunity of asking him by what 
 mental process he had conceived such an extraordinary idea ; 
 and his answer was that he had been laboring at the subject 
 for several days, but had not succeeded in getting the effect 
 he desired. At length, beginning to think the task was al- 
 most hopeless, he was sitting up in bed one morning, with his 
 hand covering his chin, and the tips of his fingers between his 
 lips, the whole attitude expressive of disappointment and de- 
 spair, when he saw his face in a cheval glass which stood on 
 the floor opposite to him. "That's it!" he involuntarily ex- 
 claimed ; " that 's just the expression I want ! " and by this 
 accidental process the picture was formed in his mind. The 
 practical filling-up of the design was soon carried into effect, 
 and the result is too well known among the masterpieces of 
 Cruikshank's pencil to need any description from my humble 
 pen.
 
 A LOVER OF AUTOGRAPHS. 319 
 
 A LOVER OF AUTOGRAPHS. 
 
 My connection with the Sanatorium brought me in contact 
 with a gentleman well known in the city for his urbanity and 
 mercantile intelligence, and for his liberal doings in matters 
 of a charitable nature, such as those which came under his 
 control as a member of the committee of management. Hold- 
 ing a responsible office in his establishment was an ambi- 
 tious gentleman who had published a volume of poems, and 
 who had a great desire to possess autograph-letters of eminent 
 men. This latter fact I allude to because I had reason to 
 believe it was the cause of his introducing me to an eminent 
 writer, whose works I had read with an appreciation beyond 
 that which is ordinarily commanded by contemporary authors, 
 and whom I could not have supposed I should ever have 
 the privilege of meeting in friendly intercourse. In my ca- 
 pacity of secretary to the Sanatorium, I had been called 
 upon to address a letter to the late Thomas Hood, requesting 
 him to act as a steward on the occasion of a public dinner then 
 about to take place in aid of the funds of that institution, and 
 I immediately received, in answer to my application, a letter 
 which the great humorist well knew would be read aloud to 
 the company assembled at the banquet, and in which, there- 
 fore, he had contrived to embody those characteristics of 
 drollery and pathos so peculiarly belonging to him. The effect 
 of the letter was that the writer regretted that, " although a 
 married man, and well tended," and receiving those domestic 
 comforts which should help to enable him to bear the buffets 
 of fortune, he could not, on account of impaired health, accept 
 the honor sought to be conferred upon him. The dinner 
 took place, and the letter was read out as Mr. Hood antic- 
 ipated. Among the guests was the autograph-seeking gentle- 
 man befoje alluded to ; and in the course of the evening he 
 came to me to express the unbounded interest he felt in the 
 letter as a valuable illustration of Hood's peculiar humor. 
 I fully appreciated the incontestible remark, and kept the 
 letter for which, by the way, I was afterwards offered a high
 
 320 GEORGE HODDER. 
 
 price in specie, but disdained to accept it, feeling assured that 
 I possessed a treasure which must be regarded as a literary 
 curiosity of more than ordinary interest. 
 
 LEIGH HUNT. 
 
 In the course of * week or two from the date of the festive 
 gathering, I received a pressing invitation from the poetaster 
 in question, to dine with him at his house at Peckham, " to 
 meet Leigh Hunt and his daughters," and begging me to take 
 
 with me the letter of Thomas Hood, as Mrs. (his wife) 
 
 was most anxious to see it. Here was an honor so entirely 
 unsought and unexpected, that I could only consider it in the 
 light of " greatness thrust upon me ; " and alarmed though I 
 was at the idea of meeting the intimate associate of two such 
 world-renowned men as Byron and Shelley, and who had suf- 
 fered imprisonment for the bold expression of his opinions as 
 a journalist, I very naturally availed myself of the opportunity. 
 The evening arrived, and the party consisted, besides the host 
 and hostess, of Mr. Leigh Hunt and his two daughters, Julia 
 and Jacinth.il I trust I am betrayed into no error as to the 
 names "of the fair ladies), Mr. Augustus Dickens, youngest 
 brother of Mr. Charles Dickens, and who then held a clerk- 
 ship in the same merchant's office as the host, and myself. 
 Mr. Hunt sat opposite to me, and it must be confessed that 
 my respect for the viands before me was much weakened by 
 the reflection that I was in presence of a poet, whose " Story 
 of Rimini " had attracted the notice and gained the commen- 
 dation of Lord Byron, and who had often been alluded to by 
 Shelley in his prose writings as among his choicest compan- 
 ions. 
 
 To be seated at the same table with Leigh Hunt was, I 
 thought, like seeing Byron and Shelley by a reflected light ; 
 and I could not but watch, with a curiosity amounting almost 
 to awe, every movement of his face, and every \^rd that fell 
 from his lips. True, I soon discovered that, after all, he was 
 but mortal man, and that, despite the history of his past career, 
 he talked and acted as a being of ordinary instincts rather than
 
 LEIGH HUNT. 321 
 
 as one who might be supposed to have wings to fly with. Still 
 I was constantly reminded of the indisputable fact that Leigh 
 Hunt was " somebody," and that I was assuredly complimented 
 in being brought into such close companionship with him. 
 
 I hardly dare venture to describe his personal appearance, 
 further than to say he looked\ht man of that refined intellectual 
 power which had given him his place in the literature of his 
 time ; that 'his complexion seemed strangely to harmonize with 
 his hair (for he wore no whiskers, and moustaches at that time 
 had not found their way to this country), in one uniform tint of 
 iron gray ; and that his shirt-collar ascended from his neck in 
 a ntgligt manner, which might be considered slovenly, but 
 which was picturesquely effective in its loose luxuriance. 
 There was, moreover, a sort of valetudinarian air about him, 
 and he appeared extremely particular as to what he ate and 
 drank, preferring, he said, the mildest form of nutriment, such 
 as he was accustomed to at home " just the wing of a 
 chicken." and " only a moderate quantity of sherry and water " 
 being especially demanded. 
 
 Dinner over, the company were ushered into the drawing- 
 room, which communicated with the salle-a-manger, and there 
 the host and hostess very wisely suggested " a little music." 
 Accordingly the Misses Hunt most kindly indulged the com- 
 pany with a specimen of their taste and skill in pianoforte- 
 playing ; and at length our host prevailed upon his dis- 
 tinguished visitor himself to "favor us with a tune" a 
 knowledge of music being known to be one of Mr. Hunt's 
 accomplishments. With this request he most readily com- 
 plied, and good-humoredly observed, " I will give you a fa- 
 vorite barcarolle which I was in the habit of playing to Birron 
 and Shelley in Italy " (he pronounced the first name as if it 
 were spelt as I have written it with two " rr's " and the " i " 
 short). 
 
 He executed the task with a spirit and delicacy which could 
 hardly have been expected from an amateur who had passed 
 the greater part of his days in the cultivation of literature 
 " walled in by books," to use his own phrase ; but if he had 
 
 21
 
 322 GEORGE HODDER. 
 
 caused the instrument to speak or to roar, instead of making it 
 "discourse most eloquent music," I think I should gladly have 
 lent my aid to secure an encore. Indeed, the performance 
 suggested a combination of three great names, whose metrical 
 sounds had long rung in the ears of admiring Englishmen ; 
 and I could not help thinking how greatly many of Mr. Hunt's 
 compeers must have envied him the power and opportunity of 
 entertaining two such renowned geniuses as Lord Byron and 
 Percy Bysshe Shelley. 
 
 In the course of the evening our host took pains to remind 
 me of his wife's high appreciation of the autographic letters 
 of eminent men, and he assured me that she would be " so 
 much obliged to me " if I would lend her, for a few days, the 
 interesting epistle I had in my possession from Tom Hood. 
 Full of gratitude for the honor I had received at his hands, I 
 immediately consented; and as may well be imagined I 
 never saw the letter afterwards. Thus was I made to sacrifice 
 a treasure which had come to me from Tom Hood for the 
 pleasure and privilege of an introduction to Leigh Hunt ; and 
 it is in no revengeful spirit that I mention the climax to the 
 story, when I state that the master of the feast was afterwards 
 dismissed from the office he held in the city for the trifling 
 error of paying more regard to his own pocket than to the 
 interests of his employers. 
 
 Mr. Hunt had engaged a fly for the evening (in tliose days 
 cabs had not asserted their all-prevailing sway in the streets 
 of the metropolis) ; and as he lived at Kensington, and I dwelt 
 on the road thither, he very graciously offered me a seat an 
 act of courtesy on his part, which I, of course, cheerfully ac- 
 cepted ; so that I now found myself one of four in the same 
 carriage with a world-renowned character whom I had previ- 
 ously been proud to encounter in the same room. In the 
 course of a most agreeable conversation (during which I par- 
 ticularly observed that Mr. Hunt never strove to assert the 
 superiority which he possessed), I could not resist the oppor- 
 tunity of telling him that, like himself, I had been educated at 
 Christ's Hospital ; whereupon he playfully observed that he
 
 LEIGH HUNT. 323 
 
 was there a little before my time, 1 and that Coleridge and 
 Charles Lamb were somewhat before his time. Here again I 
 was rendered deeply sensible of the good fortune which had 
 befallen me ; for I had not only been in close companionship 
 with the friend of Byron and Shelley, but was now riding from 
 one extreme of London to another with one who had sat under 
 the same masters as Coleridge and Charles Lamb. Byron and 
 Shelley, Coleridge and Lamb ! Four bright and penetrating 
 examples of the literary character of this century so potent 
 in their moral and intellectual influence, that it is difficult to 
 avoid the impression that, however unsuccessfully we may 
 draw our conclusions respecting their mental or physical 
 calibre, one seems to have been brought, as it were, into famil- 
 iar communion with them, in having enjoyed the society of 
 their accomplished friend, Leigh Hunt. He most kindly in- 
 vited me to his " quiet suburban abode ; " but alas ! I let the 
 happy chance slip by me ! 
 
 Not long after the memorable little dinner at Peckham, a 
 weekly periodical was started, under the experienced editor- 
 ship of Mr. Hunt, and called " Leigh Hunt's London Jour- 
 nal." Thinking that a favorable chance was here afforded me 
 of coming in contact with Mr. Hunt under more practical cir- 
 cumstances than I had yet done, I forwarded to him a contri- 
 bution to the journal, and received a gratifying note in return, 
 accepting it. Unfortunately, however, the periodical did not 
 prove a permanent success ; and when the final number made 
 its appearance, the article in question had not been permitted 
 to see the light.' Many good-natured friends stated at the 
 time that it was in consequence of its being known to the in- 
 quiring readers that they were threatened with a contribution 
 of mine that the publication came to an untimely end ! With- 
 out stopping to inquire into the truth or cynicism of this alle- 
 gation, it is melancholy to relate that the MS. has been lost to 
 a disappointed posterity. Hoping to redeem it, I wrote a 
 
 1 Leigh Hunt was at that time sixty years of age, as, in fact, he told me during 
 our ride ; and (not to be too particular) I was less than a quarter of a century younger 
 tlian I am now.
 
 324 GEORGE HODDER. 
 
 respectful letter to Mr. Hunt, and in order that he might 
 extend to me a little more indulgence than is generally shown 
 by editors to casual contributors, I reminded him of the flat- 
 tering circumstances under which I had met him some time 
 previously, and of the friendly feeling he had then displayed 
 towards me. In answer to my communication I received the 
 following letter from his son, Vincent Leigh Hunt, dated 
 
 "April 16, 1851. 
 
 " DEAR SIR, I hold the pen for my father, whose state of 
 health obliges him, at present, to write as little as possible. 
 
 " The address of Mr. Stores Smith, the projector and pro- 
 prietor of the late journal, is No. I, Edith Villas, North End, 
 Fulham. With regard to the MS. it is believed to be at 
 Messrs. Stewart and Murray's, printers (of the Journal), Green 
 Arbor Court, Old Bailey, but if you do not find it there, and 
 will let my father know as much, he will cause further search 
 to be made. 
 
 " My father, who has a very agreeable recollection of you, 
 is duly sensible of your kind expressions." 
 
 I applied to the printers as directed, but with no satisfac- 
 tory result ; and it was not very probable that I should ever 
 trouble Mr. Hunt to " cause further search to be made." As 
 to the " Journal," its existence was not prolonged beyond six 
 months sufficient time to bring into life the contents of one 
 volume. 
 
 It is, of course, beyond my province to express any opinion 
 in regard to Leigh Hunt's valuable contributions to the litera- 
 ture of his time. Full justice has been rendered him in this 
 respect by Mr. Edmund Oilier in an interesting memoir of the 
 poet and essayist. It will be sufficient for me to confine my- 
 self in this, as in most other cases, to the wholesome practice 
 of "speaking of a man as we find him;" and I certainly 
 found in Leigh Hunt a man who appeared the very opposite 
 of one who could be capable of disparaging either a living 
 prince or a dead poet. The monument which has recently
 
 JAMES SHERIDAN KNOWLES. 325 
 
 been erected to his memory, by subscription, may at least be 
 taken as a proof that he lived to be regarded as a gentle- 
 hearted, kindly-disposed man ; and that, notwithstanding the 
 errors into which .he was betrayed in his earlier years, he won 
 the respect and good-will of those who knew him best, and 
 whose opinion he would wish to be recorded on his tomb. 
 
 JAMES SHERIDAN KNOWLES. 
 
 It will not, I think, be out of place here to mention that I 
 once met James Sheridan Knowles (the author of a play 
 which, if he had written no other, would have made his name 
 immortal in the annals of dramatic literature " Virginius ") 
 under circumstances of singular interest. I had entered the 
 coffee-room of a tavern in the neighborhood of Covent Gar- 
 den, where a large number of actors and others connected 
 with the theatrical profession were, as usual, assembled ; and 
 I found that the company, instead of indulging in that freedom 
 of speech, and that audible interchange of opinion which was 
 their wont, seemed to be under some kind of restraint ; for 
 those who did venture to say anything, spoke 
 
 " In a bondman's key. 
 With bated breath, and whispering humbleness." 
 
 This extraordinary reticence surprised me greatly ; and on 
 looking round the room, in some perplexity, I perceived Sher- 
 idan Knowles (who was then in the zenith of his fame) seated 
 in a far corner, taking no part in any conversation, and appar- 
 ently not quite at his ease. " There 's Sheridan Knowles ! " 
 whispered more than one gentleman of the party, as I ad- 
 vanced to find a seat for myself; and, as I immediately per- 
 ceived, it was the fact of the great dramatic author being pres- 
 ent which had exercised a species of awe over an assembly of 
 players ! In the course of a few minutes he rose to take his 
 departure ; and I was much interested in observing that every 
 man in the room rose in obeisance to him. This was a trib- 
 ute to genius which made a deep impression upon me at the 
 time, and I have often thought since that it did much honor to 
 those who, in offering it, played a part so worthy of the theat- 
 rical- profession.
 
 326 GEORGE ff ODDER. 
 
 Sheridan Knowles was singularly remarkable, as is well 
 known, for an ingenuous simplicity of speech, together with 
 an absence of mind, which it was difficult to conceive in a 
 man of such eminence ; and many anecdotes are told of him 
 which prove the correctness of this statement. As I have 
 never seen any of these in print, though they may possibh 
 have appeared, I shall offer no excuse for introducing in this 
 place a few instances, which were communicated to me by the 
 persons to whom they relate. 
 
 Jerrold once asked Knowles to explain the meaning of a 
 particular incident in the plot of " The Hunchback," which 
 had always appeared to him to involve an improbability un- 
 worthy of so excellent a production. " My dear boy ! " said 
 Knowles, " upon my word I can't tell you. Plots write them- 
 selves." The same fellow-dramatist, having on another occa- 
 sion made some observation to Knowles on a scene in Shake- 
 speare which had much impressed him, was anxious to test 
 his friend's opinion upon the subject (thinking, of course, that 
 he would prove himself a great authority in reference to such 
 a question) ; but the moment Jerrold pronounced the name 
 " Shakespeare," Knowles exclaimed, " Ton my honor, I never 
 read Shakespeare. I leave him for my old age ! " 
 
 When a version of " Frankenstein " was being performed 
 nightly at two metropolitan theatres, the hero being repre- 
 sented at the one by O. Smith, and at the other by T. P. 
 Cooke Knowles, on meeting the former one day in the street, 
 stopped him, and cried, " Faith ! I met your namesake yester- 
 day Mr. T. P. Cooke ! " 
 
 The names of Mark Lemon and Leman Rede used to puzzle 
 him severely : and as both were, at the period I speak of, fre- 
 quently before the public as writers for the stage, Knowles 
 could never bring himself to understand which of the two was 
 the subject of congratulation when a dramatic success h:ul 
 been achieved by either of them. At length he met Leman 
 Rede and Mark Lemon walking arm-in-arm. " Ah ! " said 
 Knowles, the moment he was close enough to accost them, 
 " now I 'm bothered entirely ! Which of you is the other ? "
 
 JAMES SHERIDAN KNOWLES. 327 
 
 Of Knowles's ability as an actor I will not attempt to express 
 an opinion, further than to say it was very far below his powers 
 as an author ; and I will venture to relate a trifling incident* 
 which I witnessed, in order to show that he could not be re- 
 lied upon as a master of all the resources and conventional- 
 ities of the stage. He was playing the Duke of Buckingham, 
 in " King Henry VIII.," at Covent Garden Theatre, and in one 
 of the early scenes it was his task to deliver several important 
 speeches, all requiring the most careful and vigorous declama- 
 tion, and leaving very small chance for an adroit escape in the 
 event of the memory proving treacherous. In these he was 
 evidently somewhat at a loss, and indeed gave no little con- 
 firmation of his own statement that he had "never read Shake- 
 speare." At length he came to a passage which brought 
 him to a complete stand-still, and instead of looking to the 
 prompter for assistance, or getting out of the difficulty by 
 some dexterous ruse, as a more " knowing " artist would have 
 done, he remained in front of the foot-lights, and thumped his 
 forehead several times with his hand ; but the words would 
 not come ! The gesture was one which is, of course, well un- 
 derstood in private life, but which could not be otherwise than 
 ludicrous when seen upon the stage, as in the instance now 
 recorded. There was an unavoidable titter amongst the au- 
 dience, but respect for the author and sympathy with the ac- 
 tor prevented it from rising into absolute laughter.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Ainsworth, W. Harrison. Visits Mon- 
 
 crief with Barham, 157. 
 Alvanley, Lord. " Never could do a 
 
 Jew," 122. " Less gilding and more 
 
 carving," 122. 
 
 " Antwerp, The Wife of," to/). 
 Arnold, Samuel. His equanimity in mis- 
 fortune, 122. 
 " Artevelde, Philip van. :> Unfavorable 
 
 opinion of, by Milman and Harness, 
 
 248. 
 Authorship, Denials of. Southey's, 123. 
 
 Sydney Smith's, 123. Sir Walter 
 
 Scott's, 123. 
 Autographs, A lover of, 319. Swindles 
 
 Hudder out of a letter of Hood's, 322. 
 
 Daily, E. H. Makes a bust of Jerrold, 283. 
 
 Baker, Steady. Boy brought before, for 
 stealing gooseberries, 48. 
 
 Bandbox. The importance of, 38. 
 
 Barium, Edward. Poetical letter to, by 
 his father, 141. 
 
 Barham, R. H. Acquaintance with Hook, 
 19. Compared with Hook, 26. Letter 
 to Bentley about Hook's death, 39. 
 Letter to Bentley in reference to the 
 Life of Hook, 40. Letier to Mrs. 
 Hughes about Hook, 42. Mrs. Hughes 
 relates anecdotes of Scott, 46. Adven- 
 ture with Diggle, 52. College life, 53. 
 Averse to speculation, 54. Reply to 
 his tutor, 54. Assists Hnrley to cos- 
 tume. 55. Among smugglers, 57. Dis- 
 believes Spiritualism, 59. Poetical in- 
 vitation to dinner, 60. Poem on a hare, 
 61. Recovers Dr. Blomberg's fiddles, 
 67. Witnesses a case of mesmerism, 
 71. Makes a dubious acquaintance, 
 93. Acts as one of the stewards of the 
 Literary Fund dinner, 96. Sups with 
 Mr. Blackwood, 96. Intimacy with 
 Thomas Hume, 9?. Acquaintance with I 
 Matthews. 103. Attends the funeral of I 
 
 Sir Thomas Lawrence, 112. PoeticaJ 
 epistle to his son Richard, 116. Ac 
 quaintance with Sydney Smith, nS 
 Dines at the Beefsteak Club, 122 
 Dines at tha " Garrick," 123. " M> 
 Cousin Nicholas," 125. " My Grand- 
 father's Knocker," 126. Corrects Lin- 
 ley's reading of " hurly burly,'* 129. 
 Parody of Haynes Bayly, 132. Lines 
 left at Hook's house, 133. Dines 
 with Sydney Smith 134. " You are 
 the canister," 137. Meets Thomas 
 Moore, 140. Poetical epistle to his 
 son Edward, 141. Poem to his cat 
 Jerry, 142. Poetical epistle to Dr. 
 Hume, 152. Detects an accom- 
 plished swindler, 153. " A Song 
 of Sixpence," 155. Receives a visit 
 from the Queen of the Belgians, 156. 
 Goes with Ainsworth to see Moncrief, 
 157. Hoax about a terrier, 167. His 
 surgeon, 170. "The Bulletin," 172. 
 '' To the Garrick Club," 174. 
 
 Barham, R. H. D. Poetical epistle to, by 
 his father, 116. 
 
 Bayly, Haynes. Parody of his style, by 
 Barham, 132. 
 
 Bentley, Richard. Barham's letter to, 
 about Hook's death, 39. Advice as to 
 who should edit Hook's Remains, 41. 
 
 Blomberg, Edward, Captain (Major?). 
 Apparition of, 65. His child brought 
 up in the Roval nursery, 66. Becomes 
 chaplain to George IV. ,67. Is robbed 
 of his fiddles, 67. They are recovered 
 for him by Barham, 68. 
 
 Brewster, Sir David. Asks who Crabbe 
 i*. 235- 
 
 Brummell, Beau. Anecdotes of, 249. 
 
 Buckingham, Duke of. His death pre- 
 dicted by an apparition, 9 ... 
 
 Bulletin, The. 172. 
 
 Bushe, Chief Justice. Remark to th 
 Duke of Richmond, 166.
 
 330 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Byron, Lady. Her character as drawn 
 by Harness, 185. Byron's devotion to 
 her, 1 86. Tlve world commiserates her, 
 t%. Her friends slander Byron, 187. 
 Weeps when she sees his statue, 188. 
 Curiosity regarding the conversation of 
 Harness, 188. Deficient in tact and 
 reflection, 193. " Why did she marry 
 Byron," 193. Did not understand By- 
 ron, 193. 
 
 Byron, Lord. Tells young Hook to 
 knock out Mrs. Drury's eye, 37. His 
 kindness to Harness at Harrow, 179. 
 Writes a sharp letter to Harness, 180. 
 Bees his pardon, 180. Epigram on 
 Robert Speer, 180. His friendship 
 for Harness, 181. Desires his por- 
 trait, 181. Harness at Newstead, 
 i t. Correcting proof of " Childe 
 Harold," 183. Serious conversa- 
 tion of Hodgson, 183. In London 
 famous 184- His marriage, 184. A 
 victim of popular feeling, 184. His 
 leaving England a mistake, 185. Char- 
 acter of Lady Byron, 186. His devo- 
 tion to her, 186. Gossip against him, 
 1X7. His conduct could not have been 
 all bad, 188. Lady Byron weeps at 
 the sight of his statue, 188. Harness 
 knew nothing but good of him, 1X9. 
 Generosity to Coleridge, 189. Consid- 
 eration to servants, 1X9. Attachment 
 to his friends, 190. Better than most 
 young men, 190 From boyhood his 
 own master, 190. Morbid love of a 
 bad reputation, 191. Writes paragraphs 
 against himself, 191. Maligns himself 
 and his family, 191. " My lather cut 
 his throat," 192. Contradicted by Mrs. 
 Villiers, 192. Not in the least like 
 his bad heroes, 193. Mr. Drury's 
 knowledge of him, 191. His poetry 
 too strong for Harness, 193. How his 
 marriage was brought about, 193. Miss 
 Mitford's question, 193. Character of 
 I. ulv Byron, 193. He would not be 
 driven, 194. Harness's opinion uf 
 " Cain," 194. The purity of hir cor- 
 respondence with Harness. 196. 
 
 Cambridge, Duke of. His eccentricity, 
 
 Canister, The. A specimen of Itarham's 
 sarcasm, n;. 
 
 Cannon, Edward, Rev. Story of the 
 country manager, 27. Original of God- 
 frey MOM in Hook's "Maxwell,'' 75. 
 Brought up under Lord Thurlow, 75. 
 Ch.ipliin to the Prince of Wales, 75. 
 His opinion of the noble art of fencing. 
 7'>. Qtie^lioned by the I'rince of 
 Wales as to his singing, 76. His reply, 
 
 77. Episode of the royal snuff-box, 77. 
 Condescension of George IV., 78. 
 Knows how to say " No," 78. Anec- 
 dotes of Lord Thurlow, 78, 79. George 
 IV. sends him a check, Si. In pawn 
 at an inn, 8t Sits up late with Theo- 
 dore Hook, 81. His hostility to Dr. 
 Blomfield, 82. Burns a will that would 
 have made him rich, 83. Profits in the 
 end by his disinterestedness, 84. His 
 death, 85. Anecdote of Indian officer, 
 86. His snuff-taking. 87. Jest on the 
 spouting of poet Fitzgerald, 96. Story 
 of Townsend, the Bow Street officer 
 and a Jew boy, 1 19. 
 
 Caul field. Captain. Mimicry of Suett's 
 voice from the mourning coach, 114. 
 
 Child, The Sentimental. " Bless you, 
 dear little piggy," 158. 
 
 Chorley, H. F. Withdraws from editing 
 Miss Mitford's correspondence, 205. 
 
 " Clovemook, The Chronicles of," 266. 
 
 Club, The Beefsteak. Barham dines at, 
 
 122. 
 
 Club, The r.arrick. Poetical address to, 
 
 ,* 7 <: 
 Coleridge, S. T. Byron's generosity to, 
 
 189. At the Gillmans, 237. How he 
 obtained opium, 237. What Words- 
 worth thought of his oration, 237. The 
 terror and amusement of children, 2 ;(. 
 
 Cooper, the actor. D. L. T., bombastic 
 prologue given to, 21. 
 
 Crabbe, Geo. In Edinburgh, 235. 
 
 Croker, John Wilson. Specimen of his 
 impertinent wit, 35. Presents Cannon 
 with a snuff-box, 88. 
 
 Cruikshank, George. Preaches teetotal- 
 ism, 316. At a costcrmonger's supper, 
 317. Discovers gin in his neighbor- 
 hood, 318. How lie drew Fagin, 31*. 
 
 Curran, J. P. Invited to dine with Lord 
 Thurlow, 79. His opinion of the Irish 
 bar, 80. 
 
 Diggle, Charles. Offers the first speaker 
 
 a tart, 52. 
 Digniim, The Brothers. Their dilemma 
 
 in regard to asses' milk, 88. 
 Dinmont, Dandy. Original of, 49. 
 "Doctor Toe." Epigram at the expense 
 
 of, 128. 
 
 Dodds, Met;. Original of, 46. 
 Donatty, Mrs. Murder of, 68. 
 " Douglas/' The play of, minus Young 
 
 Norval, 27. 
 Doyle, Richard. Makes the frontispiece 
 
 of " Punch," 394. 
 Drury, Rev. Henry. Conversation with 
 
 Harness about Byron, 192. 
 Dutchman, Flying. Seen by Hook and 
 
 others, 33.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 331 
 
 Eldon, Lord. Anecdote of his wife's 
 closeness, 62. 
 
 Family, The Mayhew, 298. Edward, 
 his writings, 298. Confined by a para- 
 lytic affection, 299. Death, 300. Julius 
 assists his brother Edward with draw- 
 i"KS, 300. Augustus, his writings, 301. 
 
 Fanshawe, Catherine. Her " Memori- 
 als " edited by Harness, 226. " The 
 letter H," 227. "Speech of the Mem- 
 ber for Oldham," 228. 
 
 Fawcett, John. Anecdote of Mr. Irby, 85. 
 
 Fish. A strange, 89. 
 
 Foster, Birket. Draws fur " Punch/' 
 294. 
 
 Foster, Tony. Incidents of his death 
 real, 49. 
 
 Fraser, Thomas. Dines Jerrold, Poole, 
 and Mahony. 278. 
 
 Frost, John. 'Black-balled by the Royal 
 Society, 113. What he accomplished 
 by wearing a uniform, 114. Interview 
 with Duke of St. Albans, 115. 
 
 Gattie, the actor. Hoaxed by a burlesque 
 prologue, 21. 
 
 Geese. An old pair of, 90. 
 
 Gemmell, Andrew. Original of, 47. 
 
 George IV. " Kings never does : we lets 
 'em go free,'' 140. Anecdote of, 168. 
 
 Ghost Story. The Blomberg, 63. The 
 Portsmouth, 105. 
 
 Gilbert, John. Jerrold r s objection to his 
 working for " Punch," 295. 
 
 Graham, W. Editor of " The Literary 
 Museum,'' 93. A forger, 94. Smit- 
 ten with Miss Foote, 94. A debaucher, 
 95. Price promises not to betray him, 
 95. Forges again and absconds to 
 America, 96. 
 
 Grenville, Mr. Lord Alvanley's jest on 
 his dining-room, 122. 
 
 Hare, A. Poem on, by Barham, 61. 
 
 Harley, J. P. Loan of costume to, by 
 Barham, 55. 
 
 Harness, William. Acquaintance with 
 Byron at Harrow, 179. Byron his pro- 
 tector, 179. Byron writes him a sharp 
 letter, 180. Begs his pardon, 180. 
 His lameness, 181. Byron's affection 
 for him, 181. Byron desires his pict- 
 ure, 181. Visits Byron at Newstead, 
 183. Reproves Byron for his thought- 
 lessness, 184. Byron sends him his 
 poems, 184. Renews his friendship 
 with Byron in London, 184. His opin- 
 ion of Byron's leaving England, 185. 
 Knows nothing of Byron's matrimonial 
 quarrel, 185- Character of Lady By- 
 ron, 185. He knows no ill of Byron, 
 
 189. His ^minion of Byr.-.n's attach- 
 ment to his friends, 190. What Byron 
 said to him about his family, 192. His 
 defense of Byron, 192. Conversation 
 with Drury, 192. Finds Byron's poetry 
 too strong for him, 193. His opinion 
 of Byron's marriage, 193. His kindly 
 view of Byron's character, 194. De- 
 nounces Byron's later writings, 194. 
 Extracts from one of his lectures, 194. 
 The playmate of Miss Mitford, 196. 
 Letter to Dr. Mitford, 197. Writing 
 charades, 198. Letter to Miss Mitford, 
 198. "The Wife of Antwerp," 199. 
 Letter from Miss Mitford, 201. His 
 religious views opposed to those of Miss 
 Mitford, 202. Dislike of Dr. Mitford, 
 202. Letter from Mrs. Opie about Miss 
 Mitford's pecuniary difficulties, 203. 
 Miss Mitford's opinion of him, 204. 
 Her desire that he should collect her 
 correspondence, 205. Difficulties of the 
 undertaking, 205. Trouble with her 
 servants, 206. Her Life declined by 
 different publishers, 207. Pilgrimage 
 to Stratford, 207. The church clock 
 strikes at night, 208. Restores the in- 
 scription on Shakespeare's monument, 
 208. His edition of Shakespeare, 208. 
 Miss Miiford's opinion of it, 208. Re- 
 marks on the parts played by Shake- 
 speare, 210- Shakespeare's supposed 
 lameness, 211. Remarks on the text of 
 Shakespeare, 211. His description of 
 the Globe Theatre, 214. His impres- 
 sions of Mrs. Siddons, 217. On the 
 locality of Prospero's Island, 218. Let- 
 ters to, from the Kembles in America, 
 219. Friendship for the Keans, 225. 
 Edits " Memorials of Catherine Fan- 
 shawe," 226. Affection for servants, 
 230. Remarks on the translation of 
 Bible texts, 232. Acquaintance with 
 Edward Irving, 232. Early reminis- 
 cences, 234. Anecdotes of Paley, 234. 
 Admiration of Crabbe, 235. With Scott 
 at Westminster Hall, 236. Acquaint- 
 ance with Coleridge, 237. His opinion 
 of Lamb, 238. Acquaintance with 
 Sheridan, 239. Acquaintance with 
 Rogers, 239. Acquaintance with Wash- 
 ington Irving, 241. Acquaintance with 
 Hook, 241. Acquaintance with Henrv 
 Hope, 243. His presentiment of Hope's 
 death, 244. Acquaintance with Tal- 
 fourd, 245. Dinner at the Talfourds, 
 246. Dines with Thackeray, 246. Ac- 
 quaintance with Milman, 247. Visits 
 a prison chaplain, 248. Anecdotes re- 
 lated by Harness, 248. 
 Hart, Major. Effect of mesmerism upon, 
 72-
 
 332 
 
 IXDEX. 
 
 Hertford, Marquis of. Hit income, 33. 
 
 Hill, Thomas. Original of Mr. Hull 
 and Paul Pry, 91. Humbugged by 
 Price, 92. 
 
 Hine, H. G. Makes small cuts for , 
 " Punch,' 1 193. 
 
 Hodder, George. Becomes acquainted | 
 with Henry Sl.iyhew, 253. Introduced , 
 to Douglas Jerrold, 254. Notes of j 
 Jerrold to, 256. Visits Jerrold at Bou- ; 
 logne, 260. Remarks on J errold's 
 plays, 263. Visits Jerrold at Herne 
 Bay, 265. On an oyster party with Jer- 
 rold and others, 265. Is sub-editor ol" 
 the " Illuminated Magazine," 266. 
 Note of Jerrold t", about his contribu- 
 tions, 267. Anecdote of his sister, 272. 
 Goes to Paris with Jerrold, 274. Visits 
 Chatsworth, 281. At the celebration 
 of Jen-old's fiftieth birthday, 283. In 
 Jerrold's death-chamber, 284. Henry 
 Mayhew's projection of Punch," 286. 
 Acquaintance with Horace Mayhew, 
 296. Leech makes drawings for his 
 " Sketches of Life and Character,'' 303. 
 Acquaintance with Albert Smith, 307. 
 Acquaintance with Kenny Meadows, 
 313- Receives a letter from Hood, 3 19. 
 Invited to dine with Leigh Hunt, 320. 
 Hunt gives him a ride in his fly, 322. 
 Loses a MS., 324. Meets Sheridan 
 Knowles in a coffee-room, 325. 
 
 Hodgm, Francis. Visits Byron at New- 
 stead. 183. 
 
 Hook, Theodore. Barham's acquaintance 
 with, 19. Caricature of, in " Coning- - 
 by," 20. Repeat* an unintelligible 
 prologue and sermon, 22. Improvises 
 a burietta, 23. Compared with Bar- 
 ham, 26. Sings an extempore song 
 against Cannon, 27. Altercation with 
 Cannon, 28. The original of '' Gervase 
 Skinner," 28. Hoaxing stage-coach 
 travellers, 29 Hoaxing old lady and 
 her daughters, 30. Martha, the gypsy, 
 
 32. His opinion of the Marquis of 
 Hertford, 33- Sees the Flying Dutch- 
 man, .13. Story of Irish servant, 
 
 33. Story of old Irishwomin who 
 cl limed her husband's body, 34. 
 Trumpeting Sheridan in " The Wood 
 Demon,'' 3$. " Mr. H ' Punch,'' 
 
 36. Put up to mischief at school by 
 Byron, 37. Hi* two daughters, 37. 
 Anecdote of Sir George Warrender, 
 
 37. Dines with Barliam, 39. His 
 fos of appetite, 42. Last days 
 and death, 44. Lines left at his 
 house by liarham, 133. Acquaintance 
 with Harness, 241. Opinion of waltz- 
 ing. 242. Mistaken fora Prince, 242. 
 
 Huoton, Charles. Letter to Hodder, 264. 
 
 Hope, Henry. Acquaintance with Har- 
 ness, 243. Remark of Rothschild to, 
 241. Anecdote of his sons' tutor, 244. 
 Harness's presentiment of h.s death, 
 244- 
 
 HMM, Warrender. Secret chamber dis- 
 covered in, 51. 
 
 Hnwley, Archbishop. His to:ist, 161. 
 
 " H, The Letter." By Catherine Fan- 
 shawe, 227- 
 
 Hume, Thomas. His intimacv with Bar- 
 ham, 99. Instance of his drv humor, 
 too. Tragical death of his first wile's 
 father, 102. Poetical epistle to, by 
 B.uh.tm, 152. 
 
 Hunt, Leigh. Hodder invited to dine 
 with him, 320. Personal appearance, 
 321. His pronunciation of Byron, 321. 
 Sings a barcarollt, 321. Gives Hod- 
 der a ride in his fly, 322. Starts the 
 " London Journal," 323. Loses a MS. 
 of Hodder's, 324. 
 
 Hughes, Dr. Anecdote of Scott, 45. 
 Visited by Sir Walter Scott, 48. 
 
 Hushes, Mrs. Barium's letter to about 
 Hook's last days, 42. Relates a ghost 
 story to Barham, 105. Another ghost 
 story, 119- Sends" My Cousin Nich- 
 olas to Mi. Blackwood, 126. 
 
 Imagination. The effect of, 71. 
 
 Irving, Edward. His acquaintance with 
 
 Harness, 232. 
 Irving, Washington. Acquaintance with 
 
 Harness, 241. 
 Island, Prospero's. Its locality, 218. 
 
 Jeaflreson, John Cordy. Letter to Hod- 
 der about a projected club, 257. 
 
 Jeffrey, Francis. His conversation com- 
 pared with Scott's, 138. 
 {ekyll, Joseph. Anecdote of, 249. 
 errold, Douglas. Introduced to Hod- 
 der, 254. Jests on Henry Mayhew's 
 black suit, 254- His bitterness, 255. 
 Notes to Hodder, 256. A clubable 
 man, 256. At Boulogne, 239. Invites 
 Hodder to visit him, 260. " E^ad, I 'II 
 have a dip," 261. Writes " The Pris- 
 oner of Avar " and " Gertrude's Cher- 
 ries," 262. Characteristics of his plays, 
 20V At Herne B.iy, 263. Write* 
 " The Chronicles of Cloveniook,'' 266. 
 Note to Hodder, 267. Attacked by 
 rheumatism, J'>S. " I am not going In 
 die," 269. Tries the water cure at 
 Great Malvcrn, 269. Termination of 
 the " Illuminated Maga/ine," 270. 
 Starts " Douglas lerrold'* Shillm-: 
 Magazine," 271. Write* " St. Giles,'' 
 etc., 272. Start* " Douglas Jem-Id's 
 Weekly Newspaper,*' 274 (iocs tu
 
 INDEX. 
 
 333 
 
 Paris to work up the Revolution. 175. 
 " i don't want facts," 276. His favor- 
 ite wine, 277 " Don't come to France 
 to eat roast beef," 177. Meets Poole 
 and Mahony, 278. Burns his letters of 
 introduction, 278. His opinion of mar- 
 riage, 2?g. Literary advice, 27g. 
 " Time Works Wonders," 280. His 
 children, 281. Gives a ball in honor of 
 his son Edmund, 2$2. Celebrates his 
 fiftieth birthday, 283. Baily, the sculp- 
 tor, makes his bust, 283. Stricken with 
 mortal illness, 283. Death, 284. Fu- 
 neral, 28.^. 
 
 Jerrold, William Blanchard, 259. 
 
 Jerry, Barham's cat. Poem about, 142. 
 
 Jones, the tailor. The sort of gun he 
 shot with, 249. 
 
 Keans, The. Harness's friendship for, 
 225. 
 
 Kemble, Charles. Letter to Harness, 
 223. 
 
 Kemble, Fanny. Letter to Harness from 
 America, 219. Her description of Bos- 
 ton, 221. 
 
 Kiddy, drunken prompter, anecdote of, 
 85. 
 
 King, Thomas. Anecdote, 137. 
 
 Knowles, James Sheridan. Inspires re- 
 spect among actors. 325. Jerrold ques- 
 tions him about The Hunchback,'' 
 326. " I never read Shakespeare, 1 ' 326. 
 Makes a bull, 326. Puzzled by Leman 
 Rede and Mark Lemon, 326. Forgets 
 his part in " Henry VIII.," 327. 
 
 Knox, Dr. Vicesimus. His story with 
 regard to the word " clause," 166. 
 
 Laird, The drunken. Anecdote of, 50. 
 
 Lamb, Charles. Anecdotes of, 238. 
 
 " Lammermoor, The Bride of." Main 
 incidents true, 46. 
 
 Lawrence, Sir Thomas. Funeral of, 112. 
 
 Lee, Sir Henry. Portrait of, 47. 
 
 Leech, John. Makes drawings for a 
 sketch of Hodder's in " Bentley's Mis- 
 cellany," 303. Illustrates a book for 
 Hodder, 303. What his friends called 
 him. 304. He dines some of the staff 
 of ''Punch," 304. What Jerrold said 
 of his singing, 305. 
 
 Leigh, Percival. Asked to contribute to 
 " Punch," 287 Contributes a macaron- 
 ic poem, 292. 
 
 Linley, William. Corrected by Barham 
 while spouting " Macbeth," 129. Va- 
 rious readings of " hurly burly," 130. 
 Proposed reading of Beazley, 131. 
 Hill's old copies, 132. 
 
 Louis XIV. Receives a ghostly mes- 
 sage, 98. 
 
 Lutirell, Henry. Kpigiam of Prince Re- 
 gent's illness, 90. 
 
 Macbeth. Criticism of a French actor, 168. 
 
 Macready, W. C. Anecdote of, in Amer- 
 ica, 167. 
 
 " Magazine, Douglas Jen-old's Shilling," 
 271. 
 
 M ihony, Rev. Francis (Father Prout). 
 Seeks Jerrold's acquaintance at Paris, 
 278. 
 
 Maintenon, Madame de. Supposed to 
 have tricked Louis XIV., 99. 
 
 Mathews, Charles, the elder. Acquaint- 
 ance with Barham, 103. His story of 
 the Irish surgeon's horse-race, 103. 
 Account of Suett's funeral, 123. Dole- 
 ful time at an inn, 125. 
 
 Maule, Judge. Anecdote of, 168. 
 
 Mayhew, Henry. Fondness for chemical 
 experiments, 253. Jerrold's jest on his 
 black suit, 254. Projects ' Punch," 
 286. Asks Douglas Jerrold to con- 
 tribute to it, 287. His works, 296. 
 At " Punch's Saturday " gatherings, 
 297. Note to Hodder, 297. 
 
 Meadows, Kenny. Calls on Thomas 
 Moore, 313. Designs for " Punch," 
 314. The blessings of peace, 314. 
 Fondness for the country, 314. Anec- 
 dote of Coleridge, 315. jest on the 
 children of a friend, 315. Not the 
 worse for drinking, 317. 
 
 Mesmerism. Curious case of, 72. 
 
 Middleton, Lord. Cool advice to Gun- 
 ter, 33. 
 
 Minister, The placed. His eloquence 
 spoiled, 48. 
 
 Mitford, Mary Russell. Her pertinent 
 question in regard to Lady Byron, 193. 
 Harness her early playmate, 196. Her 
 childish portrait, 196. Extravagance of 
 Dr. Mitford, 197. She publishes Har- 
 ness's charades in " Blackwood," 19*. 
 Letter from Harness, 198. Opinion of 
 his " Wife of Antwerp," 199. Her pre- 
 dilection for the Drama, 201. Dedi- 
 cates her "Country Stories" to Har- 
 ness, 201. Her religious views, 202. 
 Her- poverty, 203. Her opinion of 
 Harness. 204. Makes him her literary 
 executor, 205. Her economy in paper, 
 205. Makes her servants her residuary 
 legatees, 205. Their claims, 206. Her 
 Life declined by several publishers, 
 207. Talfourd's impoliteness about 
 " Rienzi," 245. 
 Milman, Henry Hart. Who made his 
 
 " Fall of Jerusalem," 247. 
 Moncrief, J. W. His dramatization of 
 "Jack Sheppard,'' 157. Controversy 
 w th Dickens, 157.
 
 334 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Monomania. A case of, 59. 
 
 Moore, Thomas His account of George 
 IV.'s visit to Ireland, 138. His com- 
 parison of Jeffrey and Scott, 138. An- 
 ecdle of little Ktun boy, 139. La- 
 ments that the prize gained by his son 
 would be of no use to him, i v- His 
 meeting O'Connell, 139. U'KrienV 
 hostility to him, 139. His meeting 
 Hook, 140. He quotes Lord Lans- 
 downe's description of Sydney Smith, 
 140. One of his stories of Scott, 140. 
 
 Murphy, Serjeant His scriptural-legal 
 ioke, 166. 
 
 "My Cousin Nicholas." Sent to Mr. 
 black wood by Mrs. Hughes, 126. 
 
 " Newspaper, Douglas Jerrold's Week 
 
 ly," 274- 
 
 CXBeirne, Rev. Thomas Lewis. Sermon 
 written for by Sheridan, 164. Its re- 
 sult, 164. 
 
 O'Connell, Daniel. A blackguarding 
 from, 167. 
 
 Officer, Indian. Anecdote of, 86. 
 
 Oflbr, George. Shows his library to the 
 Duke of Sussex. 163. 
 
 Oldbuck, Jonathan. Original of, 47. 
 
 Opic. Mrs. Amelia. Letter in reference 
 to Miss Mitford's pecuniary difficulties, 
 203. 
 
 Ottley, Mr. One of his stories, 161. 
 
 Paley, William. Anecdotes of, 234. 
 
 Paradox, A, 92. 
 
 Paxton, Joseph. His design for the 
 Great Exhibition, 281. 
 
 Pecoil, M. Starved to death among his 
 treasures, 50. 
 
 Pew. A. Of many owners, 165. 
 
 Pickled Cockles. Story of a thieving 
 magpie, 150. 
 
 Poole, John. Meets Jerrold in Paris, 278. 
 
 Power, Tyrone. A bon mot of, 134. 
 
 Present. The unlucky, i8. 
 
 Price, Stephen. Slips on to bed, leaving 
 Hook and Cannon, 82. His sea-ser- 
 pent yarn, 92. 
 
 Prologue, The absurd, given to Gattie the 
 actor, 21. 
 
 Prologue, The bombastic, given to Coop- 
 er, 21. 
 
 Prophecy, A fulfilled, 51. 
 
 " Punch.'' The origin of, 286. Pro- 
 jected by Henry Mayhew, 2S6. List of 
 suggested artists and contributors, 287. 
 Principal contributors to first number, 
 288. Prospectus, 289. Day of publi- 
 cation, 291. Its early struggles, 291. 
 "Sodalita* I'unchica/' 202. Acces- 
 sion to it* pVlori.il -.trrngth. i M. Bir- 
 
 ket Foster, 294. Its early directors, 
 294. 
 
 Purgatory. The opinion of a Catholic 
 pnest, 249. 
 
 Queen of the Belgians. Visits the library 
 at St. Paul's, 156. 
 
 Rector, A country. Anecdote of, 248. 
 
 Rector, The free and easy, 58. 
 
 Richard III. New reading by Catesby, 
 1 68. 
 
 Richards, Miss. Apparition appears to 
 her dairy-maid, 120. The result, 121. 
 
 Ricketls, Mrs. Her ghost siory, 143. 
 
 Rogers. Criticism of his servant, 240. 
 The Chimney Story, 240. Dislikes writ- 
 ing letters of condolence, 240. Remark 
 on the marriage of a friend, 240. On 
 Moore's taste for writing biography, 241. 
 
 Samson, Dominie, original of, 4^. 
 
 Sandford, Harry. Quizzes an old gen- 
 tleman, 89. Misquotes Shakespeare, 
 89. Duke of Wellington's head, 90. 
 
 Satan. Driven out of Alice Norringtnn, 
 56. 
 
 Scott, Reginald. His account of a case 
 of witchcraft, 56. 
 
 Scott, Sir Walter. Defense of a Scottish 
 clergyman. 46. Proposes a benefit to 
 Terry the actor, 4*>. Main incidents of 
 the " Bride of Lammermoor " true. 46. 
 Who Meg Dodds was, 46. Who Jon- 
 athan Oldbuck and Andrew Gemmell 
 were, 47. Wayland Smith's attendant, 
 47. Sir Henry Lee and his dog, 
 47. On the way to Malta, 48. Anec- 
 dote of country minister, 48. Who 
 Dominie Sampson was, 48. Who Dan- 
 die Dinmont was, 49. Tony Foster's 
 death, taken from Due dc St. Simon's 
 memoirs, 49 Death of Lady Johnson, 
 jo. Anecdote of drunken laird, 50. 
 McKinnon looks gash," 50. A true 
 prophecy, 51. His visit toWarrender 
 House, 51. Extricates himself from .1 
 a ghostly dilemma, 98. Denies haying 
 written ''Old Mortality" and reviews 
 it in the " Quarterly," 123. His con- 
 versation compared with Jeffrey'- 
 Harness makes way for liim in ' 
 minster Hall, 236. His broad Scouli 
 dialect, 236. 
 
 Shakespeare, William. Harness's edition 
 of, 208. As m player, 210. His sup- 
 posed lameness, 211. Goodness of his 
 writing, 211. 
 Sheridan, R. B. His vanity, 239. Makes 
 
 hi* love-letters do duty twice, 239. 
 Siddon*, Sar.ih Her imprcs-.ii in on H.ir- 
 
 I1P1, ?I7 AllM-llulP of, 217.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 335 
 
 St. Simon, Due de. His conjectures re- 
 garding Madame de Maintenon, 99. 
 
 Simplicity, Rustic. " They never dug up 
 ready-made pots," 62. 
 
 Sixpence, A song of, 155. 
 
 Skinner, Gervase, original of, 28. 
 
 Smith, Albert. His first contributions to 
 " Punch," 306. Gives Hodder a letter 
 of introduction to Jules Janin, 307. 
 Thinks of becoming a farmer, 308. 
 With Thackeray at the Cyder Cellars, 
 309. Description of Boulogne, 310. 
 Starts for Chamouni, 3:1. Grandilo- 
 quent invitation to his show, 311. 
 
 Smith, Sydney. Remark about Hook's 
 priming himself, 36. " The cool of the 
 evening," 36. Takes possession of his 
 stall at St. Paul's, 118. Disowns 
 " Peter Plymley's Letters," 123. His 
 brother Robert's translation of Liberia! 
 sub rege fio, 134. Proposed motto 
 for the " Edinburgh Review," 134. 
 What he would do in a religious war, 
 135. Averse to ballooning, 135. His 
 wish in regard to country cousins, 140. 
 Colburn wishes him to write a novel, 
 162. "A page of eulogy," 167. His 
 shampooing, 167. Bon mot at his ex- 
 pense by Lydia White, 243. 
 
 Smith, Wayland. His attendant, 47. 
 
 Smugglers. Barham among, 57. 
 
 Sneyd, Mr. Nicknamed bv George IV., 
 79. Invites Curran to dine with Lord 
 Thurlow, 79. Snubbed by Lord Thur- 
 low, 80. 
 
 Somerset, Lord Webb. Author of a note 
 to " Rokeby," 49. 
 
 Southey, Robert. Account of his intro- 
 duction to Duchess of St. Albnns, 91. 
 Denies the authorship of " The Doc- 
 tor," 123. 
 
 Speer, Robert. Byron's epigram on, 180. 
 
 St Albans, Duchess of. Threatens Hor- 
 ace Twiss, 91. 
 
 Suett, Richard. Mathews's account of 
 his funeral, 123. Captain Caul field's 
 mimicry of the dead actor's voice, 123. 
 Indecent behavior of a boy at the fu- 
 neral, 123. 
 
 Sugden, Sir Edward. Croker's impu- 
 dence to. 35. 
 
 Surgeon, Barham's. His medical jargon, 
 170. 
 
 Sussex, Duke of. Opinion of book col- 
 lectors, 163. 
 
 Swindler, An accomplished, 153. 
 
 Talfourd, Thomas Noon. His head 
 turned by the success of " Ion," 245. 
 Sneers at " Rienzi," 245. Always saw 
 " Ion " played. 246. Carelessness of 
 his household affairs, 246- 
 
 Talleyrand, Prince de. Anecdote of, 134. 
 
 Tell. "William. Origin of, 57. 
 
 Terrier, An intelligent, 167. 
 
 Terry, Daniel, Scott undertakes to write 
 a prologue for his benefit, 46. 
 
 Theatre, The Globe. Harness's descrip- 
 tion of, 214. 
 
 Thesiger, Mr. " An uncommonly good 
 Cryer," 167. 
 
 Townsend, the Bow Street officer. Ex- 
 amines a Jew boy, 119. 
 
 Thurlow, Lord. Early patron of Can- 
 non, 75. How he beat George IV., 
 78- His opinion of Sir John Lade, 79 
 His genius hunter, Mr. Sneyd, 79. Has 
 Curran to dinner, 79. Curran : s denun- 
 ciation of the Irish bar, 80 His snub- 
 bing Mr. Sneyd, 80. 
 
 Trelawney, E. D. His extreme opinions, 
 138- 
 
 Villiers, Mrs. Contradicts Byron's story 
 about his father's death, 192. 
 
 Wallack, J. W. Explains Shakespeare 
 to a French actor, 168. 
 
 Walpole, Edward. " Eating deeds as 
 well as words," 138. 
 
 Warrender, Sir George. What his but- 
 ler said to him, 37. Opinion of Croker, 
 38- 
 
 Whately, Archbishop. Extract of a let- 
 ter from, 161. 
 
 White, Lydia. Her motives for personal 
 adornment, 243. Anecdotes of, 243. 
 
 Wigan, Mr. and Mrs- Guests of Jen-old, 
 262. " Gertrude's Cherries " written 
 for, 262. 
 
 Wilmot, Dr. Poetical invitation to din- 
 ner, 60. 
 
 Wilson, John. Thrashes a lord and his 
 friends for rudeness to Mrs. Wilson 
 and her sister, 97. 
 
 Witchcraft. Case of at Westwell, 56. 
 
 Wood, Mr. Story about dying on geame 
 feathers, 151. 
 
 Yates, Frederick Henry. Forgets the 
 name of his friend, 135. He comes to 
 dinner, 136. His name not discovered, 
 136-
 
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