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THE 
 
 LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE 
 
 OF 
 
 CHAKLES MATHEWS, 
 
 By MRS. MATHEWS. 
 
 i 
 
 A NEW EDITION, ABRIDGED AND CONDENSED, 
 
 BY 
 
 EDMUND YATEa 
 
 LONDON: 
 KOUTLEDGE, WARNE, AND ROUTLEDGE, 
 
 FARRINGDON STREET. 
 NEW YOEK : 56, WALKER STREET. 
 
 1860. 
 
 IThe Author reserves the right of Tran»laliQn.'\ 
 
LOAN STACK 
 
 lOKDOlT : 
 
 8AVILL AKD BDWABDS, PBINTBBS, 
 
 OEANSOS-SIBBBI. 
 
EDITOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 Nearly twenty years ago these Memoirs were first given to 
 the public, comprised in four large octavo volumes, each con- 
 taining above four hundred pages, and costing a considerable 
 sum of money. At the sale of Mr. Bentley's copyrights, this 
 book, with many others, became the property of the present 
 publishers, who, mindful of former literary services (and thinking, 
 perhaps, that the names of *' Mathews and Yates," formerly so 
 prolific of entertainment, might again be brought together for 
 the amusement of the public), placed it in my hands with a view 
 to the abridgment and condensation necessary to its publication 
 in a cheaper and more popular form. 
 
 The genial author of " Peter Priggins" mentions a waiter at 
 the Star Hotel, Oxford, who boasted of being able to pack a 
 quart of wine into a pint decanter, and in my compilation of 
 this edition my endeavour has been to emulate the extraordinary 
 compressive powers of this worthy Ganymede, straining off the 
 " thick" and rejecting the lees, but conscientiously preserving 
 the real essence and bouquet of the liquor. 
 
 That the late Mr. Mathews possessed powers of graphic 
 description in no ordinary degree is evinced by his brief auto- 
 biography and by his admirable letters ; the former I have 
 scrupulously left untouched, and of the latter I have omitted 
 
 ^^ 207 
 
none but sucli as were purely domestic in their cbaracter, and the 
 publication of which, while justified by the close relationship and 
 affection of the original editor, would not now possess the 
 slightest interest to the general public. 
 
 All that may be good in this compilation must be ascribed to 
 the industry and energy of Mrs. Mathews, the original editor, 
 my own share in the production having been limited to the 
 wielding of the well-known " pruning-knife," the dovetailing of 
 incidents, reconciliation of dates, &c., in those portions which 
 were retained, and the additign of certain biographical notes 
 which have not the slightest claim to originality or erudition, 
 but which are simply given for the information of those younger 
 readers who, while wishing to know some particulars of the 
 distinguished persons mentioned in the work, would be unwilling 
 to take any trouble in searching for them. 
 
 Nevertheless, my task, though anything but an ambitious one, 
 has still been a labour of love. That I should entertain an 
 affection for the drama, its professors, and all things appertaining 
 to it, is but natural : being the son of an actor, and, in the exer- 
 cise of my own pursuits, being constantly thrown among persons 
 connected with the dramatic world, it would be strange indeed 
 if I were not animated by such sentiments. And, despite the 
 mournful and constantly recurring wail of " decline," despite the 
 garrulous whinings of the impotent, the ignorant, and the idle, I 
 firmly believe that this feeling is common to a very large pro- 
 portion of the English nation, who would be ready to admit that 
 a clever and earnest actor has a greater hold upon their sympa- 
 thies and an easier access to their inmost hearts than any man 
 ,of equal talent in any other acknowledged profession. 
 
 The following records prove that patience, endurance, honesty, 
 hard work, and a stout heart under discouragement, are requisites 
 for the histrionic aspirant, as additions to his natural talent, 
 without the possession of which none can ever hope to succeed. 
 
EDITOR S PREFACE. V 
 
 Constant study and a long course of provincial training are 
 almost as necessary to the actor as inborn genius. All modern 
 examples go to verify this dictum ; and yet, because each year 
 produces a certain number of uneducated young men, who fly to 
 the stage as a last resource, and who, having failed as tailors 
 and grocers, fail more dismally and more publicly as Claude 
 Melnottes and Cassios, we hear of nought but the decline of the 
 drama and the degradation of its professors ! 
 
 A perusal of this volume will show that one of the proscribed 
 race was courted, admired, and recognised by the first and most 
 brilliant men of the day, not as a buffoon for their amusement, 
 but as an equal and a friend. 
 
 Edmund Yates. 
 
 London, April, 1860. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 My determination to write my life — Birth, parentage, and education ; life, cha- 
 racter, and behaviour — My retentive memory — My birth-place — My grand- 
 father and father — Family disputes — Fanatic visitors — My face and figure 
 when a child— Hannah More and Garrick — My school-days — The school- 
 master and usher — My precocious attempts at mimicry — A perambulating 
 fishmonger — My imitation of his queer cry, and his revenge . pp. 1 — 10 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Methodist preachers : Brothers Hill, Durrant, Huntington, Berridge — Fanatics' 
 Tabernacle in Tottenham -court-road — "The Oven" — Early bigotry — 
 "Wrestling" — First love — Musical mania — Incipient yearnings after 
 popular applause — Enfield races pp. 11 — 18 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Merchant Tailors' School — Flogging — Serjeant Pell — William Mathews — Beli- 
 gious experience — Saintly epistles — Religious fanaticism — Pious tracts 
 with odd titles — Huntington the coalheaver, and his miracles — Rowland 
 Hill — Popular preaching pp. 19 — 29 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 French school — Private theatricals — Master Elliston — First visit to a theatre, 
 and its effect — Literary attempt — Mr. John Litchfield — Major Topham — 
 William Mathews — "The Thespian Magazine" — Editorship — Death of 
 Edwin the comedian — Correspondence with Mr. Thomas Harris, the pro- 
 prietor of Covent Garden Theatre — Apprenticeship to his father — Macklin 
 — First appearance on a public stage with Mr. John Litchfield — Richmond 
 at Richmond — The Duke of Clarence and Mrs. Jordan — Second appearance 
 
Vlll CONTENTS. 
 
 in public — Canterbury — Last appearance in the character of a bookseller — 
 Introduction to the agent of the Dublin Theatre— Engagement, and depar- 
 ture from home ..." pp. 30 — 46 
 
 CHAPTER' V. 
 
 Early letters to his friend Mr. John Litchfield— Departure from home— Journey 
 to Ireland — Dublin — Introduction to Daly the Manager — Mrs. Wells 
 (afterwards Mrs. Sumbel) — Owenson — Miss Campion (afterwards Mrs. 
 Pope) — Miss Farren — Holman — Honourable Mrs. Twisleton — Dishonour- 
 able conduct of Daly — In danger -of being drowned — An Irish Humane 
 Society . . . . •. . . . . . . '. . . . .• . pp. 47— 62 
 
 CHAPTER VL ', , ' 
 
 Mr. Mathews and Miss Strong — His engagement to her, and his father's letter 
 to him on the subject — His marriage with Miss Strong — Increasing ambi- 
 tion — Application to Tate Wilkinson, the York Patentee — Mr. Mathews's ' 
 visit to his family in London — His reception — Mr. Mathews's engagement 
 with Tate Wilkinson — His first interview — His debut — His apparent failure 
 and discouragement . . . . . . ., . . . . . . pp. 63 — 76 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Leeds — Prejudice entertained there against actors — Eudeness to female per- 
 formers — Outrage upon Mr. Holman, and upon MissGough — Feeling towards 
 actors in Hull — Anecdote — Denman and the landlady — Unpopularity of the 
 Income-tax — Mr. Mathews's whimsical remonstrance to the Commissioners 
 —t Letter to Mr. Litchfield — Tate Wilkinson's opinion of Murphy's '* Life of 
 Garrick" — Mr. Mathews's success at York — His fondness for attending 
 trials — Action for killing a donkey — Witness interrogated by Counsellors 
 Eaine and Cockle — Simplicity of the witness — Letter of Mr. William Mathews 
 to his brother . pp. 77 — 86 ■ 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. ' 
 
 Mr. Mathews's accident while performing at York — Death of his brother- 
 Letter to Mr. Litchfield — Mrs. Mathews's illness and dying wishes — Letter 
 to Mr. Litchfield — Death of Mrs. Mathews — A remarkable dream — Letter 
 from Mr. Colman, ofi"ering Mr. Mathews an engagement in London — Cor- 
 respondence on the subject pp. 87 — 99 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 George Colman at York — Tate Wilkinson's reception of him — The York per- 
 formers — Mr. Colman's dramatic reading^Mr, Mathews's second marriage — 
 Wedding incidents — Miss De Camp — Mr. Colman's letter to Mr. Mathews — 
 Parting interview between Mr. Mathews and Tate Wilkinson, pp. 100 — 105 
 
CONTENTS. IX 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Arrival in London of Mr. .Mathews and his young wife — Their reception at the 
 paternal home — Grloom of the' house — Removal to Manchester-street — Old 
 Mr. Mathews listening to his son's songs and stories — Mr. Mathews's first 
 appearance in London — Anecdote of Mr, Cumberland — Letter from Tate 
 Wilkinson — Mr, Mathews's success in " Love Laughs at Locksmiths" — His 
 Mr. Wiggins — His engagement at Liverpool — Letter from Mr, Lewis — His 
 prediction — Birth of Mr. Mathews's son pp. 106 — 111 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Ee-opening of the Haymarket Theatre — Mr. Bannister, Jun. — Illness of Mr. 
 Mathews's father — First appearance "of Mr. Mathews at Drury-lane Theatre 
 — Mr, Sheridan reading the part of Sir Peter Teazle — "Sohool for 
 i^'riends" — Mr. Mathews's retentive memory — His introduction to "Ana- 
 creon Moore"— Mr. Raymond's proposal to Mr. Mathews to turn book- 
 auctioneer pp. 112 — 118 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Mr. Theodore Hook's farce of " Catch him who can" — Letter from Mr. Colman 
 - to Mr. Mathews— Ventriloquy — Letter from Mr. Young to Mr. Mathews — 
 
 ' Mr.lVIathews meets with a severe accident — His re-appearance at Drury- 
 lane Theatre — Mr, Mathews's first attempt to perform an " Entertainment" 
 — ^Mr. James Smith and his letter — Albinia, Countess of Buckinghamshire — 
 
 . Mr. Abraham G-oldsmidt — Mr. Mathews's introduction to the Prince of 
 Wales — The actors' dinner to Mr, Sheridan — Mr. Theodore Hook's extempo- 
 raneous singing — Letters from Mr, Sheridan and Mr, Colman to Mr. 
 Mathews^-" Twig Hall" — Mr. Liston — Miss Mellon (afterwards Duchess of 
 
 - St. Alban's) ., • PP. 119—133 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 *' The Spanish Ambassador" and his ** Interpreter." . . , pp.134 — 147 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Mr. Mathews in Maw-ioorm — Origin of the sermon from the screen, in '*The 
 Hypocrite" — The Four-in-hand Club — Farce of " Hit or Miss" — Ofi'er from 
 Mr. Arnold — Re -opening of the Lyceum Theatre — Cottage at Fulham — Pro- 
 posal from Mr. EUiston — Mr. Mathews's reception at Liverpool, pp.148 — 154 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Actors' lives — Mr. Mathews's letters from Liverpool and Dublin — His first 
 appearance in Ireland, 1794 — The Irish Warier, &c. . . pp.155 — 163 
 
X CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XYI. 
 
 Provincial wanderings — Partnership with Mr. Incledon — Dissolution of part- 
 nership — Re-appearance at Haymarket Theatre — First appearance of Mr. 
 Mathews at Covent Grarden, in " Love, Law, and Physic"— Mr. Mathews's 
 imitation of Lord Ellenborough in the character of Flexible — The conse- 
 quences — Imitation of Mr. Braham^ — Mr. Mathews's imitation at Carlton 
 House before the Prince Regent — Mrs. Jordan pp. 164 — 170 
 
 CHAPTER XYII. 
 
 Mr. Mathews commanded to perform at Carlton House— His previous visit to 
 that palace — Disposal of the cottage intheKing's-road — Mr. Mathews's return 
 to town — Letter from Mr. Theodore Hook, from the Mauritius, pp. 171 — 179 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Mr. Mathews's severe accident in company with Mr. Terry — Mr. Colman's 
 letter — Mr. Mathews's re-appearance at the Haymarket in "Hocus 
 Pocus" — Mr. Mathews at Brighton — His lameness incurable — Letter of Mr. 
 Henry Harris — Mr. Mathews's letters to Mrs. Mathews from Birmingham 
 and Stratford-upon-Avon pp. 180 — 186 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Mr. Mathews's return to town, and appearance in the character of Falstaff— 
 Whimsical mistake — Lord Tamworth — Result of a Grreenwidh dinner — A 
 moral lesson — Dinuer at Long's with Mr. Walter Scott and Lord Byron — ' 
 Mr. Mathews leaves town with Mr. Walter Scott — The "Man on the Great 
 Horse," a startling Incident of the road — Letters of Mr. Mathews from 
 Northampton — Account of his performance there — Mr. Mathews visits 
 Warwick Castle and Kenilworth with Mr. Walter Scott — Indiscreet dis- 
 closure of the authorship of the Waverley novels — Letter from Mr. Mathews 
 from Staffordshire ; great theatrical exertion ; curious epitaphs — Letter 
 from Mr. Mathews from Derbyshire — Invitation of Mr. Mathews to Windsor 
 Castle by Queen Charlotte — The Irish Mathews and his wife, pp. 187 — 195 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Mr. Mathews at the Haymarket Theatre — Unnecessary offers of assistance — 
 Letter to Mrs. Mathews from Worthing — Unintentional compliment — 
 Methodistical playgoers— Visit to France by Mr. Maihews and Mr. Yates — 
 Mr. Mathews's engagement with Mr. Arnold — His visit to Paris with that 
 gentleman— Letter to Mrs. Mathews from Paris — Tiercelin, Brunet, and 
 Potier — Invitation to Mr. Mathews's "At Home" — Programme of the 
 entertainment — Mr. Mathews's introductory address — Extraordinary success 
 of the speculation — Mr. Mathews's sudden illness— Mr. Arnold and his 
 bond — Amelioration of the agreement — Distressing malady . pp. 196 — 211 
 
CONTENTS. XI 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Journey to Liverpool — Incidents on the road — Letter to Mrs. Mathews — Recep- 
 tion of Mr. Mathews by his friends at Swansea — Visit to Mr. and Mrs. Rolls 
 at Briton Ferry — Letters to Mrs. Mathews pp. 212 — 215 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Mr. Mathews's second " At Home:" Trip to Paris — Description of that Enter- 
 tainment — His farewell address — Literary pirates — Ivy Cottage and the 
 picture gallery — Mr. Mathews in Scotland — Letters to Mrs. Mathews — The 
 methodistand the actor— Letters to Mrs. Mathews . . . pp. 216— 225 
 
 CHAPTEE XXIII. 
 
 Mr. Mathews again "At Home" — Country cousins — Address to the audience 
 — Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd— Close of performance at English Opera 
 House, and Mr. Mathews's address — Mr. Mathews's visit to the provinces — 
 His letters to Mrs. Mathews— Lady Butler and Miss Ponsonby — Personifi- 
 cation of the lat^'l. P. Curran— Letters of Mr. Mathews to Mrs. Mathews — 
 Sensitiveness of Mr. Mathews — Anecdote — Letters continued — Two impostors 
 — Mr. Mathews's proposal to -erect a monument to Shakspeare at Stratford ; 
 public meeting on the occasion — Intended ascent in a balloon, pp. 226 — 237 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Announcement of Mr. Mathews's Adventures in Air, Earth, and Water — Account 
 of these Adventures — Address on the close of the fourth season of Mr, 
 Mathews's entertainments — Anecdotes of Mr. Coleridge and Mr. Charles 
 Lamb — Letter of Mr, Coleridge to Mr. Mathews . . . , pp, 238 — 248 
 
 CHAPTER XXV, 
 
 Mr. Mathews's fondness for the society of foreigners — Naldi, Ambrogetti — A 
 new "At Home" — Mr. Mathews's performance in aid of a subscription for 
 the Irish Peasants — Letter from Mr. J. Wilson Croker; portrait of Mrs. 
 Clive — Mr. Mathews's regret at his, compact with Mr. Arnold — Causes of 
 the nervous excitability of Mr. Mathews — Proposed engagement with Mr. 
 Price in America — Stipulations with Mr. Arnold — Mr. Mathews's address on 
 taking leave of the London public — Letters to Mr. Mathews from Mr. 
 EUiston and Mr. Macready — Mr. Mathews's performance at Carlton House 
 — Conversation with the King — His Majesty's anecdote of Mr. Kemble — 
 Boyal munificence pp. 249 — 257 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 Mr. Mathews's departure for New York — His letters from America, 
 
 pp. 258—280 
 
Xll CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 Interview at Boston between Mr. Mathews and an old friend of his father- 
 Letter from< that gentleman to Mr. Mathews — Letters to Mrs. Mathews — 
 Letter from Mr. Mathews to Mr. James Smith ; the American character ; 
 inordinate love of petty titles: Yankee conversation; independent land- 
 lords ; conversation with an American Boniface ; a black Methodist ; Negro 
 songs — Letters to Mrs. Mathews — Preparations for return to England, 
 
 pp. 281—291 
 
 CHAPTEE XXYIII. 
 
 Mr. Mathews at New York in the character of Othello — Success of the attempt 
 — Anticipation by the Americans that Mr. Mathews would, on his return to 
 England, ridicule their peculiarities — Public dinner given to him— Letter 
 from Mr. Theodore Hook to Mr. Mathews — Mr. Mathews's engagement to 
 perform in the regular drama: his journey to Dublin — Letter to Mrs. 
 Mathews : a stage-coach nuisance — Mr. Mathews's dislike of idle visitors — 
 Letters to Mrs. Mathews : arrival at Seapoint; success at Dublin, 
 
 pp. 292—296 
 
 CHAPTEE XXIX. 
 
 Mr. Mathews's reluctance to give offence in his representation of American 
 character — Letter on this subject from Mr. James Smith — Letters to Mrs. 
 Mathews : Irish anecdotes : danger of suffocation : arrival in Wales — Mr. 
 Mathews's new entertainment, the "Trip to America" — Account of the 
 performance pp. 297 — 303 
 
 CHAPTEE XXX. 
 
 Letter from the Right Honourable J. W. Croker to Mr. Mathews — Letter to 
 Mrs. Mathews : Disturbance at the Dublin Theatre — Mr. Talbot's attempts 
 to thwart the success of Mr. Mathews — Letters to Mrs. Mathews : passage 
 to Ireland — Unlucky speculations of Mr. Mathews — Letters to Mrs. 
 Mathews . pp. 304—309 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXI. 
 
 Mr, Mathews's new entertainment, called his "Memorandum Book" — Pro- 
 gramme — Description of the performance — Letter from Mr. J. Gr. Lockhart 
 to Mr. Mathews — Letters to Mrs. Mathews : Plymouth gaieties : Expedition 
 to Loo — Letter to Mrs. Mathews : Mr. Farley and the cat in the boot — Mr. 
 Mathews's visit to Scotland — Letter to Mrs. Mathews: Introduction of 
 Mr. C. J. Mathews to Sir Walter Scott: Invitation to Abbotsford : Sir 
 Walter and the novels — Anecdote of an old laird — A Scotch hackney- 
 coachman pp. 310 — 317 
 
CONTENTS. XIU 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 Mr. Mathews's return to London — Letter from liim to tbe Duke of Montrose : 
 embarrassing request — Frequent visits of the Duke and Duchess of Montrose 
 to Mr. Mathews's "At Homes" — Zealous support by Mr. Mathews of the 
 Theatrical Fund — Letter from Mr. Mathews to Mr. Richard Lane: Ille- 
 gible names — Mr. Mathews's seventh '*At Home" at the English Opera- 
 house — Programme of the entertainment — Letter from Dr. Kitchener to Mr. 
 Mathews : the "Cook's Oracle," the ** Housekeeper's Ledger," pp. 818 — 322 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 Mrs. Eichard Wilson's parties — Distinguished guests — Letter to Mrs. 
 Mathews — Offer to Mr. Mathews from Mr. Price of an engagement at Drury- 
 lane Theatre — Mr. Mathews at the English Opera-house and in the pro- 
 vinces — Invitation from the Duke of Clarence to Mr, Mathews— Conversation 
 between him and his Royal Highness — Mr. Mathews's "At Home" at the 
 English Opera-house for the eighth season — The "Home Circuit" — Pro- 
 gramme — Account of the performance — A journal from Brighton — Singular 
 Visitor — Mr. Mathews's acceptance of an engagement at Drury-lane 
 Theatre — Letter from Mr. Charles Lamb to Mr. Barron Field — Mr. 
 Mathews's appearance at Drury-lane Theatre — Great success of the per- 
 formance — Mr. Mathews's journey homewards from the north — His mail- 
 coach companions — A damp stranger — John Luckie, Baron HuUock, and 
 Mr. Brougham — Anecdote — Mr. Mathews's extraordinary imitation of 
 children — Mr. Liston hoaxed — Mr. Leigh Hunt's description of Mr. 
 Mathews's powers — Hospitality of Mr. Thomas Hill — The Sydenham 
 Sundays pp. 323—334 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 Mr. Mathews takes a share in the Adelphi Theatre with Mr. Yates — Per- 
 formances at Brighton with Mr. Yates — Anecdote of Mr. Liston — Letters 
 to Mrs. Mathews : Berkeley Castle : Performances at Cheltenham — Mr. 
 Mathews's dinner miseries — Letters to Mrs. Mathews — Letter from Mr. C.J. 
 Mathews to Mrs. Mathews : Journal of a residence in Italy . pp. 335 — 342 
 
 CHAPTER XXXY. 
 
 The Adelphi Theatre opened by Messrs. Mathews and Yates — Account of the 
 performance — Mr. Mathews in the character of Caleb Pij)kin — Annoying 
 inaccuracy — His "first real illness" — His love of eccentric characters — 
 Imputed irritability of Mr. Mathews — His good humour — Origin of the 
 ** school orators" — 'An importunate beggar — Impromptu — Mr. Mathews and 
 Mr. Yates " At Home" at the Adelphi, in 1829 — Programme of the spring 
 entertainment — Popularity of the performance — Mr. Mathews's pro-»incial 
 
XIV CONTENTS. 
 
 tour with Mr. Yates — Letters to Mrs. Mathews : travelling adventures ; 
 a fearful accident ; providential escape ; arrival at Exeter — Trip to Paris — 
 Mr. Mathews's performance there — Return to England — Engagement of the 
 celebrated elephant, Mademoiselle Djek pp. 343 — 355 
 
 CHAPTER XXXYI. 
 
 Re-opening of the Adelphi Theatre — Mr. Mathews's Comic Annual for 1830 — 
 Address on the close of the performance at the Adelphi — Arrival from Italy 
 of Mr. Mathews's son — Severe illness of the latter — Mr. Mathews's fondness 
 for birds and other animals — The little bantam — Letter to the Rev. T. 
 Speidell — Letter to Mrs. Mathews — Letter to Mr. Mathews from the late 
 Mr. Godwin — Study for his last novel of " Cloudesly" — Power of destroying 
 personal identity — Wonderful instance of this in Mr. Mathews — Letter to 
 the Rev. T. Speidell— " Comic Annual" for 1831 at the Adelphi Theatre 
 — Performances of Mr. Mathews and Mr. Yates — Charles Mathews, Junior, 
 and Carlo Nanini — Illness of the latter : his death — Effect of this event on 
 Mr. Mathews described in letters to Mrs. Mathews . . . pp. 356 — 368 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 Mr. Mathews and family at Brighton — His performances at the Pavilion — 
 Letter to Mr. Peake : illiberal exclusion from the Beef-steak Club — Letter 
 to Mr. Gryles, containing a summary of Mr. Mathews's feelings and circum- 
 stances at the commencement of 1832 — Mr. Mathews's Comic Annual for 
 1832 — Mr. Mathews in his "private box" at the House of Commons — Effect 
 of his presence on several of the members — Singular nocturnal adventure : 
 an escaped felon — A painful accident — Paganini and Mr. Mathews at South- 
 ampton — Mr. Mathews's performance at Portsmouth — Another accident — 
 Letters to Mrs. Mathews — Mr. Mathews's fondness for the brute creation — 
 The Duke of Wellington and Mr. Mathews in the Zoological Gardens — A 
 Newfoundland-dog — A stray goat pp. 369 — 382 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 Mr. Mathews a great hunter after ** sights" — The Fasting Woman of Tetbury; 
 the Living Skeleton ; Daniel Lambert ; Miss Crackham, an Irish Sicilian — 
 Hottentot Venus — Mr. Kemble's visit to the last-mentioned curiosity — A 
 midnight scene: Mustapha the cat, Mr. Mathews, and Mr. Kemble — Mr. 
 Mathews's anxiety for the means of retirement and repose — His losses in 
 bubble companies — His conviction that his constitution was breaking up — 
 Removal from the Cottage to London — The Adelphi Theatre property — 
 Action at law against Mr. Mathews for thirty thousand pounds — Exhibition 
 of the pictures collected by Mr. Mathews — His London residence — His final 
 departure from the Cottage — Decline of his health and spirits — His com- 
 
CONTENTS. XV 
 
 mencement of his autobiography — His lethargy — Letter from Mr. Mathews 
 to Mr. Gyles — Account of the exhibition of the theatrical pictures — Mr. 
 Mathews at the dinner of the Covent Garden Theatrical Fund : imitation of 
 " Glorious Dan"— Mr. Mathews's *• Comic Annual " for 1833, pp. 383—397 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 Mr. Mathews's visit to Mr. Eaton — His dislike of transacting business — His 
 illness — His visits to the Zoological Gardens — His fondness for Brighton — ■ 
 Letter to Mrs. Mathews — Effect on Mr. Mathews of an inattentive auditor : 
 anecdote — Letters to Mrs. Mathews — Mr. Mathews anticipation as to his 
 biographer — Letter to Mrs. Mathews : dreary accident on Salisbury Plain — 
 Fatality attending Mr. Mathews's movements from home . pp. 398 — i08 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 Serious illness of Mr. Mathews— His sufferings — Letters to Mrs. Mathews ; 
 Corbyn's Hall ; Fop's first appearance on any stage ; Mr. Mathews's recep- 
 tion at Birmingham — Letter to the Rev. Thomas Speidell — Letters to Mrs. 
 Mathews — Inns ; application from the Covent Garden Theatrical Fund — Mr. 
 Mathews's speech at the Fund dinner pp. 409 — 419 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 Offer to Mr. Mathews of a second engagement in America — His reluctance to 
 accept it — His ultimate determination — His performance at Richmond, 
 being his last public appearance in England — Parting interview between Mr. 
 Mathews and Mr. Bannister — Mr. and Mrs. Mathews at Mr. Cartwright's 
 House in the Isle of Wight — Their departure from England in the Canada — 
 Valedictory letter from Mr. Theodore Hook — The voyage — The somnambu- 
 list — Arrival at New York ; the scurrilous placard ; Mr. Mathews's per- 
 formance in New York of his " Trip to America j" its effect on the audience 
 — Mr. Mathews's reception in Philadelphia pp. 420 — 433 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 Dinner at Philadelphia in compliment to Mr. Sheridan Knowles — Mr. Mathews's 
 speech on that occasion — Letters to Mr. C. J. Mathews ; Mr. Trelawney ; 
 illness of Mr. Mathews, and probability of his premature return to England ; 
 reception of Mr. Mathews at Boston— The Scots' Charitable Society of Boston 
 — Letter from Mrs. Pierce Butler to Mr. Mathews ; information touching 
 the Canadas — Letter from Mr. Mathews to his son — Letters from Mrs. 
 Mathews to Mr. C. J. Mathews ; preaching of Dr. Wainwright — Fop and his 
 impudent claimant PP. 434—444 
 
XVI CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTEE XLIII. 
 
 Letters from Mrs. Mathews to Mr. C. J. Mathews ; JVIr. Mathews's appearance 
 at New York ; anticipations . of return home ; renovation of Mr. Mathews's 
 health; a "cold snap ;" interior of an American house — Letter from Mr. 
 Mathews to the Rer. Thomas Speidell — Mr. Mathews's last appearance in 
 
 ■ New York — Embarkation for England — Letter to Mr, C. J. Mathews ; 
 arrival at Liverpool ; the homeward voyage ; sudden and alarming illness of 
 Mr. Mathews ; a violent gale pp. 445 — 452 
 
 . CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 Mr. Mathews*s anxiety as to his affairs — The excellence of his character — 
 Letters to Mi-s. Mathews ; state of Mr. Mathews's health, and treatment of 
 his medical attendants — Mr. Winstanley's account of the illness of Mr. 
 Mathews — Letters to Mrs. Mathews : improvement in the health of Mr. 
 Mathews ; his endeavour to mingle jest with pain ; preparations for removal 
 to Crick ; the journey thither — Application from the Committee of the 
 Theatrical Fund — Mr. Mathews's reply — Letters to Mrs. Mathews : De- 
 spondency of Mr. Mathews — Letter to Mr. Gyles .... pp. 453 — 463 
 
 CHAPTER XLY. 
 
 Mr. Mathews's departure from Crick — His journey to Oxford — Embarks for 
 Plymouth — His arrival there — Mr Harris's report as to the progress of Mr. 
 Mathews's illness — Letter to Mrs. Mathews pp. 464 — 468 
 
 CHAPTER XLYI. 
 
 Formal announcement to Mrs. Mathews of the impossibility of her husband's 
 recovery — Mr. Wightwick's recital of the progress of Mr. Mathews's dis- 
 order — A happy evening — Final interview between Mr. Mathews and his 
 son — Mr. Mathews's conversation in writing — His night-visions — Delusive 
 symptoms — His last words — His death — The last mournful ceremonies — His 
 monument pp. 469 — 480 
 
THE 
 
 LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE 
 
 OP 
 
 CHAKLES MATHEWS. 
 
 r 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 My determination to write my life— Birth, parentage, and education; life, cha* 
 racter, and behaviour — My retentive memory — My birth-place — My gi-and- 
 father and father — Family disputes — Fanatic visitors — My face and figure 
 when a child— Hannah More and Garrick — My school -days — The school- 
 master and usher — My precocious attempts at mimicry — A perambulating 
 fishmonger — My imitation of his queer cry, and his revenge. 
 
 " He who pleads his own cause has a fool for his client," say 
 the lawyers. I am afraid the writer of his own life is liable to 
 the same imputation. I should have begun to write mine years 
 ago, if I had had the courage. " On their own merits modest 
 men are dumb," — on their demerits they are not likely to dwell. 
 What then is a poor fellow to do, who, with the terrors of the 
 press before his eyes, feels it a sort of duty to himself to put on 
 record a few remarkable events, anecdotes of celebrated men, 
 hair-breadth escapes by flood and field, opinions of contem- 
 poraries, and various scenes in the drama of life in which he has 
 been a principal actor ? 
 
 It is not merely a record of my own adventures and mishaps — 
 my life and opinions, that I am vain enough to think amusing ; 
 but some of those singular events which, contrary to all proba- 
 bility or my own expectation, mingled me with remarkable men. 
 Few individuals have had greater opportunities afforded them 
 than myself of associating or coming in contact with persons of 
 every class of society, as 1 trust I shall be able to show. The 
 original causes of such heterogeneous associations it will be my 
 business to depict — but, from one chance or another, " they lay 
 in my way," and I have known, visited, corresponded, or con- 
 versed with kings, lords, commons, merchants, traders ; all, from 
 the cobbler's stall to the palace, I have, like Asmodeus, con- 
 
 B 
 
2 THE LIFE AND COERESPONDENCE OF 
 
 trived to enter — and, therefore, think I have at least the where- 
 withal to furnish an amusing work. 
 
 Well, then, for some years I have hoped the day would arrive 
 when I should have the courage to "attempt my own life." I 
 really have to plead the excuse of publishing " at the desire of 
 too partial friends." I have been coaxed, wheedled, urged, 
 tempted, bribed, goaded almost, to — begin. " Make a com- 
 mencement at all events. Try ; 'tis a shame — such stores of 
 anecdotes — you will only have to copy, and instead of the 
 dazzling white paper before yon, you can shut your lids, while the 
 eyes are turned within, and have only the labour of remem- 
 bering, while others are battering their brains for invention." 
 "Yes," said I, "true — but then the plan, the construction, the 
 language ! The public has been fed with such high dishes, that" 
 — "They are more likely to be pleased with simple fare," said 
 a good-natured, round, dimple-faced friend. " Ah ! there in- 
 deed !" said I; "if I believed that!" "Believe it then from 
 me ; write fearlessly — nay, carelessly if you like." " What ! 
 with the terrors of the Quarterly and Edinburgh, cum multis 
 aliis, before my eyes ?" " You have nothing to fear from them, 
 if you do not ' attempt' too much. Flowery writing, or meta- 
 phorical description, will ' confound you,' not the deed of writing 
 as you speak." 
 
 " Well !" said I, " seriously, I am thinking of it. Begin I 
 will, my — my — what ? ' Apology ?' — I hear a hiss at the word. 
 * Records ?' already done. ' Reminiscences ?' — stale. Well, then 
 — Birth, parentage, and education — Life, character, and behaviour 
 of Charles Mathews, Comedian, who was — Hang it ! I have 
 heard those words before, and precisely so arranged; but no 
 matter — I will pursue that style of biography to the letter ; it 
 has sold many a sheet-list of all ' the unfortunate malefactors,' 
 and perhaps it is not yet so damaged in the service but that it 
 may be of service to me. I will begin with the birth, and 
 pursue it to — nay, not quite to the last scene — I must leave that 
 to somebody more alive to the subject than myself." 
 
 I have never written with a view to publication since I was 
 sixteen, and have considerable doubt whether I am qualified for 
 the task. I have resolved to put down rapidly the matter which 
 my memory is charged withal, and shall risk the reading just as 
 I should a letter written in a hurry to an indulgent friend, of 
 which I had preserved no copy. I have never kept a journal or 
 diary, or made a memorandum of a conversation in my life ; but 
 i have an excellent — nay, an extraordinary memory (an inva- 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 3 
 
 luable gift to one of my profession), and, having given public 
 proof of this, I may venture to make the remark. I fearlessly 
 pledge myself to the declaration, that I can perfectly recollect 
 and repeat most of the anecdotes and conversations of remarkable 
 persons whom I have met in early life, with as much facility as 
 I related them at the time they happened. 
 
 Addison remarks, " that no one peruses a book with so much 
 content, if he be unacquainted with the author, as when he is 
 informed of his situati^ in life, his connexions, his disposition, 
 and, above all, of his person." Now, knowing the misery of un- 
 gratified curiosity, I feel it my duty to proceed upon this hint, 
 and shall therefore endeavour to afford every facility in my power 
 to those who may do me the honour to read my life and experi- 
 ence, towards their full enjoyment ofthese volumes, by satisfying 
 the most insatiable propensity for prying that ever afflicted the 
 most curious and inquisitive of the human race. 
 
 I shall commence this narrative with " those early years 
 wherein the human mind receives its first bias — when the seeds 
 of all our future actions are sown in the heart, and when causes, 
 in themselves so trifling as almost to be imperceptible, chain us 
 to good or bad, to fortune or misfortune ;" and, with this object 
 in view, 1 hope I shall be excused if, in the outset, I dwell for 
 some time on the situation in life, connexions, and disposition of 
 others — I mean, of that excellent man, my father, and of the 
 peculiar society in which he moved. 
 
 To begin at the beginning, then, I shall commence with my 
 first birthday.* 
 
 I was born on the 28th of June, 1776, at half-past two o'clock 
 " and a cloudy morning," at No. 18, Strand, London. The house, 
 I regret to say, no longer exists, for in thesummer of 1833 1 had 
 
 * On a fly-leaf of the huge family Bible, the following memoranda may be 
 found in his father's writing : — 
 After the heading of — 
 
 "James Mathews, his Book, 
 1765, 
 
 was born the 20th of July, 1742, and married to Elizabeth Manly the 21st of 
 July, 1765, who was born in the month of June, 1744 — 
 
 Heirs together of the grace of life !" — 
 
 may then be seen in regular succession the dates of the births of fourteen chil- 
 dren — seven daughters and seven sons. Of the latter, 
 
 " Charles Mathews, the seventh son of James and Elizabeth Mathews, 
 was born on June the 28th, 1776, at a quarter before three o'clock in the 
 morning." 
 
 b2 
 
4 THE LIFE AND COEEESPONDENCE OF 
 
 the mortification to see the venerable residence of my forefathers, 
 the interesting birthplace of the hero of these pages, destroyed 
 piecemeal by unhallowed hands, who, regardless of all its classical, 
 poetical, and histrionic associations, demolished, brick by brick, 
 every vestige of its former appearance, and "left not a rack 
 behind," — for what? Oh, bathos! to open to the public — a 
 view of Hungerford Market ! 
 
 My grandfather was a native of Glamorganshire, and the real 
 family name was Matthew, which he changed, for an estate, to 
 Mathews with one T. He died, leaving his property in litiga- 
 tion ; and my father thereby lost a T and a Chancery suit. The 
 estate was worth 200Z. a year, and cost him about 210/. annually 
 in law and repairs ; so that its loss became a gain, — a fact, I take 
 it, of no small importance to the world. 
 
 My father was a respectable, and what was called a " serious" 
 bookseller — indeed, he was himself so rigid a sectarian as to have 
 been selected to be prime minister at one of her chapels by no less 
 a personage than Lady Huntingdon herself; so that it will be 
 easily imagined I was not indebted to him for any of my thea- 
 trical propensities. He, good man, assured me that he had never 
 seen a play in his life. His father, also a bookseller, was one of 
 those persons who thought it sinful to enjoy innocent amusement, 
 and his son was forbidden to be gay or mirthful. My father was 
 obedient (my son cannot say as much of his father), and I have 
 not yet sufficiently repented of my disobedience to add, " Alas ! 
 would that I had been obedient too!" "Just as the twig is 
 bent," they say, " the tree's inclined ;" but had I been so in- 
 clined, I might have been at this moment a " serious bookseller" 
 also, for my father had designed me for his successor. But, as 
 it happens in the best-regulated families, the husband and wife 
 did not chance to agree — that is, upon religious points. 
 
 My excellent mother was strict in her adherence to the tenets 
 of the Church of England ; my father was a rigid Calvinist. Yet 
 these differences of opinion, I must do them the justice to say, 
 were conducted with such good breeding, that I do not recollect 
 ever witnessing any unpleasant controversies. My father was* 
 satisfied with sincerity in any one ; he allowed my mother to 
 think for herself without opposing, still less persecuting, her for 
 her opinions, and she, with most dignified church-pride, as some 
 pf the sectarians designated it, satisfied her mind by thoroughly, 
 in her heart, despising the ignorant fanatics by whom he was 
 surrounded — for surrounded I may call it — to the destruction of 
 the well-being of his family. Had he been a professed gambler, 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 
 
 we could not have felt more alarm at the entrance of a black-leg 
 into tlie family circle than the arrival of a newly- acquired brother. 
 Yet he, the sincerest of the sincere, the most guileless, the most 
 intrinsically honest and moral man, I believe now in my heart, 
 that ever passed sixty-four summers in this sublunary globe, 
 remained a liberal Chri§>ttan amongst wretched fanatics, moderate 
 in a crowd of raving enthusiasts — the mildest of preachers, the 
 kindest of advisers, himself an example to the wholesale dealers 
 in brimstone — the pawnbrokers, hosiers, butchers, shoemakers, 
 travelling tinkers, no matter how low, how ignorant (blasphemers, 
 I then and now consider many of them), to whose tender mercies 
 I was constantly subject. A regular set of technical cant phrases 
 pervaded the discourse of them all. I and you, my gentle readers, 
 were damned, and they were saved ; they had " had a call," or 
 were "of the elect," and little other qualification was necessary 
 to start as expounders of the word, and to spout nonsense by the 
 hour. 
 
 Such were thqge by whom my father was hemmed in. Had 
 he not been bitten by one of these rabid animals very early in 
 life, his naturally cheerful mind and kindly benevolent disposition 
 would have admirably qualified him for a contented, quiet, and 
 happy member of the real, true mode of worship, as I think, and 
 trust ever shall think. 
 
 But T have dwelt so long upon my parentage, that I have 
 nearly forgotten the advice of the great Spectator, and the neces- 
 sity of relieving the minds of the curious in minutiae — " Above 
 all, his person." 
 
 For a more exact description of this I have referred to my 
 nurse, who was alive to tell the tale within ten years of the date 
 hereof. She assured me that I was a long, thin skewer of a 
 child, of a restless, fidgety temperament, and by no means regular 
 features — quite the contrary ; and as if Nature herself suspected 
 she had not formed me in one of her happiest moments, the 
 Fates combined with her to render me more remarkable, and 
 finding there was not the least chance of my being a beauty, con- 
 spired to make me comical. 
 
 The agreeable twist of my would-be features was occasioned, 
 as the above-named lady assured me — indeed, 1 have heard my 
 mother with great tenderness and delicacy confirm it — by a 
 species of h^'^steric fits to which I was subject in infancy, one of 
 which distorted my mouth and eyebrows to such a degree as to 
 render me almost hideous for a time, though my partial nurse 
 declared my " eyes made up for all, they were so bright and 
 
6 THE LIFE AND CORKESPONDENCE OF 
 
 lively." Be this as it may, certain it is that, after the recovery 
 from this attack, folks laughed the moment they saw me, and 
 said, " Bless the dear little dear ! it is not a beauty, to be sure ; 
 but what a funny face it has !" The "off-side" of my mouth, 
 as a coachman would say, took such an affection for my ear, that 
 it seemed to make a perpetual struggle to form a closer commu- 
 nication with it, and one eyebrow became fixed as a rusty weather- 
 cock, while the other popped up an inch apparently beyond its 
 proper position. The effects remain to this day, though mode- 
 rated. " Wrj'^mouth" was a nickname applied to me when at 
 school, and for the first seven years of my life I was in the habit 
 of holding my hand to my cheek to hide the blemish. What 
 good or evil " was here wrapt up in countenance," or how far 
 this may have interfered to direct my future pursuits, I do not 
 attempt to say. 
 
 I am now about to relate a circumstance which properly 
 belongs to one of the " seven ages," namely, the first ; but as 
 my talent is not quite equal to that of the Irishman who said, 
 *' There's not a man in the four provinces has such a memory as 
 me — I never heard that story yet but I could repeat it fifty 
 years afterwards," I do not pretend to recollect what happened 
 to me in infancy, yet am I correctly clear as to the description 
 of the scene by my father. It was no less than the justly- 
 celebrated Hannah More's introducing Garrick to him in his 
 own shop. He had never seen him act, and therefore could not 
 feel any of that glow that I feel in relating the incident — he 
 had never witnessed, therefore could not appreciate his talents. 
 
 Keader ! do you not, as I do, pity from the bottom of your 
 heart the unfortunate victim of prejudice, who could voluntarily 
 deprive himself of the effects of that resplendent genius, the 
 admiration not only of England, but of Europe ! What reward 
 would you accept to be deprived of the reminiscence of the 
 gratification afforded you by a Kemble — a Siddons — a Talma ? 
 Nay, had you been a play -goer till lately, and as suddenly con- 
 verted as some of these would-be saints have been, would you 
 not say — now be candid, " Well, I am glad I saw Mrs. Siddons 
 first ?" But whither am I wandering ? 
 
 Well, notwithstanding this sacrifice of pleasure to principle, 
 my father's pride was gratified that the introduction took place ; 
 and when the testimony to that great man's private worth as 
 well as splendid talents was given, at the ceremony of depositing 
 his honoured remains in Westminster Abbey, by the long pro- 
 cession of Lords and Commons that followed, an impression was 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. W 
 
 made on the mind of a trader that must have staggered his 
 senses, and, in spite of the sentiments his misleaders had im- 
 planted in him, he used ever after to erect his crest when he 
 related that he had had the honour of the great Garrick's 
 acquaintance.* ^^ 
 
 As soon as my ears were susceptible of having the delicious 
 f:ict instilled into them, I heard that on the occasion of the 
 introduction — credat 1 — Reader, take breath — he, Garrick, took 
 me in his arms ! Yes, I was touched, embraced, fondled by the 
 immortal David! That I cannot describe my sensations will 
 easily be believed when I state that I could not by possibility 
 have been three years old, inasmuch as I was born on the 28th 
 of June, he having made his final bow to the Public on the 10th 
 in that same year (a fact I would impress on the numerous 
 persons who during my life have pestered me with the question, 
 " Do you remember Garrick, Mr. Mathews ?" my answer having 
 always been, "No, sir, I can prove an alihi.'") Well, he took 
 me in his arms, and, like the near-sighted lady who said, when a 
 coal-scuttle entered the room in place of an expected infant, 
 "Dear! how like its father!" no doubt made some common- 
 place observation ; but my father often declared that he burst 
 into a fit of laughter, and said, " Why, his face laughs all over, 
 but certainly on the wrong side of his mouth !" 
 
 I do not go so far as to say this did or did not affect my 
 future destiny ; that my father in his serious moods alluded to 
 it with such a feeling, there can be no doubt — it may have been 
 ominous. 
 
 Hannah Moref was at that time of a serious cast, as it is 
 
 * David Garrick, the greatest actor that ever trod the Engfish stage, the 
 first that struck the death-blow at formal and stilted declamation, substituting 
 for it the vigorous and impassioned expression of natural sentiments, was born 
 in in 6. He was educated at Lichfield, where he formed the acquaintance of 
 Samuel Johnson, with whom he came to London in 1736. In 1741 he first 
 came upon the stage, and his success was immediately established. He became 
 the patentee of Drury Lane Theatre in 1747, and the remainder of his course, 
 until his retirement in 1776, was one long series of successes. He died in 
 1779, and was interred in Westminster Abbey, where his monument, repre- 
 senting him between Tragedy and Comedy, is still a great attraction. In addi- 
 tion to his histrionic talent, Garrick was a man of considerable literary ability, 
 a member of the celebrated Literary Club, and an intimate friend of Johnson, 
 Goldsmith, Sir Joshua Reynolds, &c. 
 
 t Hannah More, a distinguished moral writer, born in 1744, died in 1833, 
 having attained the advanced age of eighty-three. She was the authoress of 
 very many moral and religious works, all of which during her lifetime enjoyed 
 signal success. To the present generation she will perhaps be best known by 
 
8 THE LIFE AND COERESPONDENCE OF 
 
 called, but did not quite believe that the association with little 
 Davy endangered the soul. Whether she was of my father's 
 principles or not I cannot tell ; for to this hour I do not know 
 what these Wesleyans, Whitfieldites, and Huntingtonians were 
 disputing — nay, quarrelling about ; nor why two human beings, 
 believing in one God, should condemn each other to everlasting 
 punishment, because their leaders gave different interpretations 
 to the same text in Scripture. Miss Hannah, at all events, sub- 
 mitted some of her small religious tracts to my father, who 
 published them ; and I may presume from this that, as he was 
 so employed by her, he declined putting his name to what she 
 called her " Sacred Dramas." He iield himself in such a situa- 
 tion personally responsible, though he did not carry his prejudices 
 so far as to exclude from his shelves the works of our great 
 English dramatists. 
 
 In due course of time I was sent to school — St. 'Martin's Free 
 School was, I believe, the first. In the indiscriminate selection of a 
 first school there are very few who reflect on its consequent effects 
 in after life. Had I twenty sons I would never send one to the 
 school of a man fond of punishment. I say fond, for I am con- 
 vinced that my first pompous pedagogue had no gratification 
 equal to the superintending a flagellation. " Let this little 
 gentleman feel the rod!" I have the sound in my ears at this 
 moment. Had flogging given knowledge, I might have been a 
 dangerous rival to the seven Greek sages. But, alas ! I did not 
 flourish, though my master did ! Often have I cast an eye to 
 the little cherubs that clung on the corner of the organ at the 
 end of the school-room, and wished I had been shaped like them, 
 — only head and wings ! 
 
 Our master, Pownall, was a remarkably handsome man, but 
 pomposity itself. His usher, Shaw, a lank bony Scotchman — 
 how can I describe him ? — squinted " more than a gentleman 
 ought." He had a barbarous accent, and therefore, I suppose, 
 was selected to teach the " Breetish languitch in its oreeginal 
 peurity " to us cockneys. He was a quaint man — thin as a 
 pitchfork. He used to shamble up and down the school by 
 slow fits, rubbing his gamboge chin with his burnt-umber fingers, 
 and directing little bits of broken unintelligible advice to the 
 leering, sheepish, idle little animals who sat in rows up the room, 
 walking before them like Aaron with his rod. 
 
 **CceIebs in Search of a Wife," and a little tract called "The Shepherd of 
 Salisbury Plain," the original sale of which is said to have exceeded one million 
 copies. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 9 
 
 I was at that time particularly fond of carrying a bit of 
 broken looking-glass, to^dazzle "Shaw's queer optics" with. 
 Many were the convulsive, painfully-smothered laughs I and my 
 wicked coadjutors writhed under (while I remained undiscovered) 
 at his simplicity and patience, enduring this infliction day after 
 day, squinting up to discover through what cranny in the blind 
 it was that the sun came in to occasion this annoyance ; but at 
 length I was caught in the fact, for, while I thought he was 
 looking in an entirely opposite direction, I found he was looking 
 me and my bit of glass full in the face. I was horsed, and now 
 really flogged — barbarously birched ; while Pompey Pownall 
 roai*ed out, with a voice of thunder, this facetious moral — "That, 
 sir, will teach you, I hope, not to cast reflections on the heads of 
 the school !" 
 
 Here may be traced my first attempts at mimicry. I re- 
 member the flogging fellows to this hour, — their voice, tone, 
 and manner ; and my ruling propensity was thus early called 
 into action at their expense. 
 
 Another precocious attempt at individual imitation about the 
 same time had nearly proved fatal, and, it might be supposed, 
 would have tended to check that irresistible impulse I had to 
 echo, like the mocking-bird, every sound I heard. I used to 
 amuse my schoolfellows with what I then thought my best 
 specimen in that way. It was of a man who cried eels about 
 the streets, and passed through the Strand by my father's door 
 daily. He was rather short, but remarkably muscular ; he had 
 a peculiar guttural voice, which I remember correctly to this 
 hour, and which I can of course now delineate with more 
 accuracy and truth than my then penny-trumpet voice could 
 enable me to do ; still it is quite out of the question that I can 
 give any idea of such an oi-iginal with my pen, when the whole 
 humour of my delineation depends upon intonation : nor should 
 I relate the anecdote, but to enforce my position of the wonder 
 that I had not given up business in that line in the outset. 
 This fellow's regular cry was, " Live eels ! Conger eels ! Thames 
 eels ! — ivj my eels — silver eels — Dutch eels — threepence a pound 
 e-e-e-e-e-e-els!" which, taking a fresh supply of breath from his 
 leathern lungs, he eeZ-longated to such an extent, that the last 
 monosyllable frequently held out in undiminished force and 
 energy while he strided from Craven to Hungerford street. 
 
 An imitation of this odd, perambulating fishmonger,! considered 
 as most desirable. He was a notorious character, and excited 
 various laughs, from the infant snigger to the adult roar ; and 
 
to THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 " What a long eel !" was the constant remark his drollery 
 excited. Even my father's serious friends relaxed so far from 
 their rigidity of muscle as to ha-ha-ha nearly three times at my 
 successful hitting off of his peculiarities. Encouraged by this 
 approbation into boldness, having brought my parody to per- 
 fection, I was emulous of the approval of the great original 
 himself; and having due notice of his approach from the long 
 eel on which he was trilling perhaps as far off as Charing Cross, 
 I anxiously awaited his arrival. When he was near enough to 
 observe my action, I placed my hand on the dexter side of my 
 mouth, and commenced my sinister operations, taking him off 
 "to the very life," as my panegyrists had led me to believe I 
 could. Had I been as slippery as one of his own articles of 
 traffic, I might have twisted and wriggled my way behind the 
 counter and escaped ; but he was too much for me — indeed I 
 did not apprehend so savage an attack. Deliberately placing 
 liis basket at the door, he pursued me into the shop ; and as I 
 flinched from the huge and ponderous fist that was poised high 
 in air to annihilate me, I conveniently placed my back to receive 
 his blow. " Next time," said the huge monster, as he felled me 
 to the earth, " as you twists your little wry mouth about and 
 cuts your mugs at a respectable tradesman, I'll skin you like an 
 e-e-" and seizing his whole shop up in his Brobdignagian arms, 
 he finished the monosyllable somewhere about No. 27. For 
 weeks — nay, months — did I suffer from the effects of this 
 punishment. 
 
CHARLES^ MATHEWS. 11 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Methodist preachers : Brothers Hill, Durrani, Huntington, Berridge — Fanatics* 
 Tabernacle in Tottenham-court-road — "The Oven" — Early bigotry — 
 "Wrestling" — First love — Musical mania — Incipient yearnings after 
 popular applause — Enfield races. 
 
 Little daunted at my ill success in my first attempt, I com- 
 menced, previously to my knowledge of the actors, with the 
 heroes of the pulpit. I was reckoned so expert at my represen- 
 tations of Brother Hill and Brother Durrant, Huntington, &c. 
 that I have been requested, in some moments of hilarity (alas I 
 they were but few), to exhibit my imitative powers before some 
 of the stiffest of our visitors, and success crowned my efforts. 
 My father was a joyous-looking person, and his jolly good- 
 humoured face dimpled into delight at the " little dog's im- 
 pudence:" I need not say I had ample encouragement from my 
 mother in this pursuit. 
 
 My most successful delineation was of a huge-wigged old 
 devotee whom we called Daddy Berridge. He had been a 
 preacher in the Whitfield school for many years. He was a 
 very old man at the period I speak of, and had lived long enough 
 to see the progress of the Tabernacle in Tottenham-court-road 
 until it had become a third larger than in Whitfield's time. I 
 myself remember it before the addition of the gallery to the 
 east end, and when the pulpit was nearly close to the wall ; but 
 when the new wing was added, there was an eye to the accom- 
 modation of a hundred or two more persons than it would 
 formerly hold. These additional auditors, however, were neces* 
 sarily only indulged with a back view of the precious wigs of the 
 preachers : and those whose circumstances did not afford them 
 seats in the new gallery were doomed to a dungeon underneath^ 
 dark and dreary, and well suited to the dismal predictions and 
 fearful threats held out to all who were not of the elect. This 
 recess was called the Oven : — no misnomer. The inexperienced 
 of these comical clergy, who were not aware of the difficulty 
 which the cakes in the Oven encountered during their baking^ 
 
12 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 as to hearing (seeing the preacher was, of course, out of the 
 question), proceeded in the even tenor of their way, apparently 
 unconscious of their presence, and certainly taking no pciins to 
 convey consolation to their consciences. But Daddy Berridge 
 was a regular old-stager. He was well aware of the select 
 portion confined in the black hole, and had no idea of hiding his 
 candle under a bushel. He, therefore, when he had any choice 
 bit of consolation* for his flock, encored himself in his most 
 eloquent passages. Turning his body entirely round in the 
 pulpit, exhibiting his lank desponding visage to those of the 
 gallery, who were delighted with this indulgence, and then 
 dexterously elongating his neck to the prisoners below, he would 
 roar out the repetition of his last sentence, which frequently 
 reaching their ears without the context, could not, I fear, have 
 tended much to their spiritual comfort. As in this instance — 
 *' If, with these examples before you, — if, when these truths are 
 made manifest, — if, with these rules laid down for your conduct, 
 and the consequences of your sins by such awful warnings made 
 clear to you, you do not repent, j^ou will all be damned ;" he 
 would elevate his guttural voice to a ludicrous pitch, peep down 
 to the half-stifled wretches underneath, and cry, " You will all 
 be damned, — do ye hear below ?" This being all they heard of 
 the sentence, they might very naturally have asked, " For 
 what ?" He would cite a string of truisms as to the un- 
 certainty of life, the certainty of death, the necessity for pre- 
 paration, and with pathetic tones chant out, " Since I last 
 sojourned amongst you, my worthy brethren, the fell Destroyer 
 has been busy. I can see before me the outward symbols of 
 grieving spirits within— 1—2— 4— 7— 8— 10— 11— 13— 18— 22 
 people in mourning" — (then wheeling to the right-about) "25 — 
 (left face) 27 — 9," — then, to the Oven, " How many are there 
 there ?" Here again is the lack of manner and tone of voice, 
 but I pledge myself to the truth of my description. 
 
 Before I began to have a perception of the ludicrous in these 
 exhibitions, which perhaps would have been much longer in being 
 formed but for my occasional visits to St. Martin's Church with 
 my mother, Berridge's Johnsonian wig awed me, and I was 
 strongly impressed with the belief that these Brimstonians were 
 right, and all others wrong. 
 
 Notwithstanding my childish wonderment at these proceed- 
 ings, I had a strong bias to proceed in what I have since believed 
 the wrong path. I was, between the ages of eight and thirteen, 
 as complete a little bigot as ever was begotten by gloom, envy, 
 
CHAKLES MATHEWS. 18 
 
 and spleen, a thorough-going melancholy fanatic in embryo. 
 My charity was that of the fraternity, for I not only believed in 
 fire and torments being prepared for all who were not of " the 
 elect," but most devoutly hoped it ; and I think it fair to infer, 
 if the doctrines which I heard produced this species of feeling 
 in my mind, that such must always be their effect on the 
 ignorant and uneducated. I shall relate presently an anecdote 
 where these feelings came into full play. But first for a more 
 natural as well as more amiable passion — incipient love. 
 
 About this period there was a little saint of the name of 
 Chater. Brother Chater, her father, was a manufacturer of iron- 
 work for coachmakers. I had " wrestled^"" with her at some of 
 the love-feasts, and I was just old enough to regret we were so 
 far apart during the wrestling. I therefore began to think I was 
 in love. Gravity begets gravity, and my sister in the faith and 
 I ogled each other most piously. The first time I ever attempted 
 to wrestle with her in her father's house, I received a most mor- 
 tifying check — not from herself — oh no ! I was too young to 
 declare my passion ; but I had hoped to recommend myself to 
 her regard and insinuate myself into her affections by the force 
 of melody. The charms of music were summoned to my aid. I 
 popped my flute into my pocket and paid her a visit. Her 
 mother was gone to a ^^ T and B'^ (Tea and Bible), and her 
 father, as vve hoped, with her. I had just prevailed upon my fair 
 one to try a newly-published song on the pianoforte, while I 
 accompanied her on the flute, when the enraged father rushed 
 in, and, with all the meekness and courtesy which such Chris- 
 tians profess, called me by every sort of opprobrious name, boxed 
 my ears, seized my hat, thrust it rudely on my head, gave one 
 of his own sledge-hammer knocks on the top which forced lining 
 and all over my eyes, and caused me to try to escape with the 
 swimming sort of action peculiar to blindman's buff, pushed me 
 from the room, and literally kicked me out of the house — and all 
 because he caught me in the fact of playing " a song-^oo;j" as 
 he called it, and " corrupting his darter's mind*' by leading her 
 into the same sinful course. " Keep your deviFs toons to your- 
 self, you young varmin ! don't come 'ere with your Beelzebub's 
 jigs. None o' Satan's 'ymns 'ere ! take 'em to 'is hown 'ouses 
 — there's one close by in Common Garden. Shan't play none of 
 your imperance to debauch my gal's mind wi' ! Go out, I say ! 
 and I'll throw your fife out a vinder arter you." Brother 
 Cahusac's patent keyed flute to be called ajife ! " Barbarous 
 blacksmith!" thought I, "never more will I endure the 
 
14 THE LIFEl AND COKRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 wrestlings of your daughter after the indignity bestowed by 
 your iron fist. Sweetest specimens of a saint-like coach-and-cart- 
 spring maker, adieu !" 
 
 Was not this enough to check my musical studies in their 
 early growth, to damp my ardour and destroy my enthusiasm 
 for ever ? No. 
 
 About this very period I made "my first appearance in 
 public" at my father's chapel at Whetstone, where he preached 
 every Sunday. 
 
 "Brother Oodard" (Woodward), the butcher, who was my 
 father's clerk, suggested that a " hopposition to the horgan of 
 the church," though in a minor way, might be attractive. He 
 had a son "as fiddled," and Wilson, the cobbler, was reckoned 
 a capital hand at the bassoon ; " and if Master Charles would 
 but jine 'em and play the flute," what an effective orchestra might 
 be formed without trouble or, expense ! The scheme was im- 
 mediately carried into execution; we had several " practizings," 
 as Woodward called them, which made no little noise in the 
 village, and our first public performance being announced by 
 whisperings into the ears of the pious only (as we hoped), the 
 meeting was crowded to suffocation — literally " overflowed," as 
 the playbills have it. 
 
 Pope's " Vital spark of heavenly flame" was the piece selected 
 for our dehut ; and 1 can as perfectly recollect as I can any event 
 within one week of the time of my penning this, the arrange- 
 ment I made for "a good part," as the actors would say; I 
 mean, the care and caution I used to make the flute the " first 
 fiddle ]^—flauto primo was not enough for my inordinate am- 
 bition. Now, as this was a ^'■four-part song^'' as our choristers 
 called it, we expressly forbade the rest of the congregation from 
 joining in until the whole had been sung through once , and then 
 they were to sing chorus only. I had been a principal singer in 
 this really beautiful piece of music before we aspired to instru- 
 mental accompaniment ; but here came the puzzle. I had been 
 primo tenore, and " Brother Wizzun" had a "barrow-tone" voice 
 which he made bass for Sundays, I presume, by the old-esta- 
 blished mode of getting his feet well wet on Saturday evening. 
 The interesting elder butcher had a counter-tenor part. Our 
 first notion was to accompany ourselves ; but we forgot, in the 
 enthusiasm of the moment, that those who had to play the wind- 
 instruments could not conveniently play and sing at the same 
 time. The junior slaughterer Oodard had here an advantage. 
 Many a blind minstrel had given him a hint that to sing and 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 15 
 
 fiddle together was practicable ; but tve did not produce sweet 
 sounds by force of elbow, but by dint of lungs, and I was emulous 
 to exhibit my twofold accomplishments — I considered myself as 
 the principal performer, and I would be heard. If I was to be 
 merely an accompanyist, who was to sing my old part ? At last 
 it was agreed that the fame we had already acquired by our vocal 
 performances was not to be compromised, and an ingenious ar- 
 rangement was made to satisfy all parties. There were fugue 
 passages, symphonies, &c. ; and the cobbler and myself, with an 
 enthusiasm never to be sufficiently commended, so contrived that 
 we made some of the bumpkins believe that we sang and played 
 at one and the same time. I wish it were within the power of 
 my pen to give effect to this scene ; it requires the aid of prac- 
 tical and vocal elucidation to convey it with full force. 
 
 This was a great musical epoch in Whetstone, the march of 
 music at the first stage on the high North Road. It made a 
 stirring sensation in our community, and I hoped, if not believed, 
 that the Steepleites would be jealous : I felt persuaded that se- 
 ceders from the Church must be the consequence. I was com- 
 plimented by my saintly friends, and old Woodward was so pleased 
 with my enthusiasm in the good cause, that he respectfully in- 
 vited me to see a bullock killed on Monday at eleven precisely, 
 " God willing." I wished that Sister Chater could have been 
 present to witness the effect produced by the very instrument 
 which her father had so contumeliously termed a fife. But his 
 assault on the drum of my ear with his metallic fingers had been 
 resented by my father, and the families never met afterwards. 
 Our separation had cooled the ardour of my regard for her, and 
 I soon discovered that I had not really loved ; for I was almost 
 immediately afterwards struck dumb by the beauty of another 
 little saint in petticoats. She was exceedingly pretty and good- 
 tempered. 
 
 Sister Hallows was the daughter of a rich ribbon-weaver, who 
 had his country-house near my father's, and was one of his 
 flock. I became as desperately enamoured as a boy of my age 
 could well be, and am compelled now to confess that she was 
 really my first love. I was constant ; but " let concealment, 
 like a worm in the bud," fester my heart — I had not courage, at 
 sixteen, to declare my passion. She was three or four years 
 older than myself, and never, I dare say, bestowed a thought 
 upon me. I sighed at humble distance until she was torn from 
 me by a ruddy handsome young farmer, and 1 left to mourn my 
 loss unpitied. 
 
16 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 I introduce this story of my seared affections here, as I so 
 fully recollect that my eyes alternated from the notes to her 
 beaming countenance, watching every expression, and anxious 
 for her approving smile. Little did any of these parties think 
 to what all this might lead ! Trifles are the pivots on which 
 turn all the vast wheels of that complicated machine called 
 society. Had I never played the flute in chapel I might have 
 remained in ignorance of the word fame, or its soul-inspiring 
 power. Had I not received the plaudits of Whetstone bumpkins, 
 I might at this moment have been addressing their descendants 
 from the self-same tub. But I had a soul above tubs. These 
 meeds of approbation so flatteringly bestowed upon my musical 
 exertions were the first dawning indications I had of the value 
 of applause. The seeds of ambition were here sown in my young 
 heart. Emulation fired me ; I had an immediate desire to rival 
 the violinist. I occasionally had a ride in his cart as he went 
 his rounds of Fryern-Barnet and Totteridge Grreen. I was 
 envious of his accomplishments. He sometimes took his fiddle 
 with him. I drove while he treated me with a " song-tune." 
 Then, when he stayed long from his vehicle — sometimes " a 
 hilling time,^'' while he poked a family -pig out of the world — I 
 would seize up the instrument, and wish that " Heaven had 
 made me such a fiddler!" I was too proud to be taught by 
 him, and dreaded a refusal from my father if I petitioned for a 
 fiddle. Alas ! good man, I wronged him ! I was not then alive 
 to the liberality of his mind. How could I know, in those 
 tender years, that he did not take his tone from those who were 
 feeding upon him ? I was not aware with what nicety of dis- 
 crimination he separated the ore of pure piety from the dross of 
 blasphemy and hypocrisy. He had no persecution in his heart — 
 Jie breathed, preached, and practised charity ! 
 
 The "flouters at our solemnities," the " Steepleites," as I 
 contemptuously termed those whom I had not yet learned to 
 respect, were of course an opposite faction in the village ; and 
 the customers of the rival butchers and bakers were almost all 
 influenced by their party feelings and religious prejudices. The 
 church-goers did not patronize Woodward, and the chapelites 
 would not eat of the bread made by the episcopalian baker. The 
 feuds created by this twofold persecution must be manifest. I 
 seldom passed through the place without some petty insult. 
 "Ah, there goes the Methodist parson's son!" "Ah, fifer!" 
 "There goes a psalm-singer!" &c. Some of the rival faction 
 had determined to kidnap me and carry me off vi et armis to 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 17 
 
 Enfield races. The plot was deeply laid — their plan organized 
 with care. A Mr. Lawson, the son of a most respectable shop- 
 keeper in the parish, with whom my mother dealt, though he 
 did not go to chapel (for be it understood, that though my 
 mother attended the parish church in London, she could not 
 with decency appear to act in opposition to my father on h\^ 
 own ground, where all eyes were on her) — Mr. Lawson, then,, 
 who was a gentleman compared with most of those who joined 
 in the conspiracy against " Our Home,^' proposed to treat me to 
 the races, and drive me there and back. He undertook to gain 
 my mother's consent, and, to my astonishment, her " slow leave" 
 was given ; though the rest of the party had predetermined that, 
 if not accorded, I should go without. 
 
 Behold me, then, at my first race ! It would be absurd to 
 attempt to describe now what I felt then. I do not affect to 
 recollect the name of a horse or the colour of a rider ; but I do 
 remember that these "terrible, terrible high-bred cattle," being 
 the first racing-blood I had ever seen, had such an inspiring 
 effect, that I was then and there inoculated with a mania that 
 has prevailed until this hour. Yes ! lame and worn as I am, I 
 admit no difficulty — I allow of no impediment — I am indifferent 
 as to distance — but to the races I must go, whether Doncaster 
 or Epsom, Leger or Derby. I have left Glasgow with the penalty 
 attached of two nights' travelling, in order to be at Newmai'ket 
 on Easter Monday, and have witnessed twenty-five contests for 
 Derby and Oaks since 1803. I have frequently ridden on horse- 
 back from London to the neighbourhood of Epsom at night after 
 my performance, to sup with friends, rather than encounter the 
 dust of the roads on the " great day," as it is called. This will 
 show that my enthusiasm is not abated. 
 
 Can it be wondered at that I, who had been debarred from any 
 of the most trivial amusement or relaxation from school-fagging, 
 should be dancing mad with joy at such an exhilarating ex- 
 hibition, the first of any sort 1 had ever witnessed ? But for 
 my adventure. 
 
 The races were over, and my anxiety for return was im- 
 mediate. I apprehended darkness, robbery, upsettings — my 
 mother's alarm if I should not be at home by the promised hour. 
 I urged all this to my companions, but in vain. They had not 
 studied to amuse me only, but themselves also. The sports were 
 now to commence with them. Then, as now, my pleasure for 
 the day finished with the last race. All my enjoyment had 
 ceased with the shout which proclaimed the winner. I was at 
 
 C 
 
18 THE LIFE AND COERESPONDENCE OF 
 
 the mercy of the party, but I had faith in my protector and guide. 
 It was agreed they must dine there, and go home afterwards. A 
 booth was chosen, and dinner was succeeded by punch. It was 
 no difficult task to intoxicate a boy of my age. I was hardly 
 aware of the probable consequences of the tempting but trea- 
 cherous beverage. They had resolved upon making me dead- 
 drunk, and I hiccuped out, "No more! no more!" till I was 
 nearly no more myself. All I remember from the time the bac- 
 chanalians ordered in a fresh bowl was their noisy chorus of 
 " Drunk, drunk, drunk." My lifeless body was, taken out of the 
 gig and carried in triumph on their shoulders through the village, 
 some of them singing, in ridicule of the music in which I had so 
 distinguished myself, " Vital spark," &c. In this way I was 
 chaired round the place like a successful member — like him re- 
 ceiving additional shouts when we passed the houses of obnoxious 
 politicians — till, wearied with their midnight orgies, and their 
 carrying me like Guy Fawkes about the streets, they shot me out 
 of my triumphal car at my father's cottage-door. 
 
 I 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 19 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Merchant Tailors' School — Flogging — Serjeant Pell — William Mathews — Eeli- 
 gious experience — Saintly epistles — Religious fanaticism — Pious tracts 
 with odd titles — Huntington the coalheaver, and his miracles — Rowland 
 Hill — Popular preaching. 
 
 I WAS now transplanted from Dominie the fla^ellator's garden 
 of knowledge in St. Martin' s-in-the-Fields, to Merchant Tailors' 
 School, to gain what Pope so aptly terms "a dangerous thing," 
 a little learning.* This was about the year 1786. Bishop, the 
 head master, wore a huge powdered wig, larger than any other 
 bishop's wig. It invited invasion, and we shot paper darts with 
 such singular dexterity into the protruding bush behind, that it 
 looked like " a fretful porcupine." He had chalkstone knuckles 
 too, which he used to rap on my head like a bag of marbles, and 
 eccentric as it may appear, pinching was his favourite amuse- 
 ment, which he brought to great perfection. There were six 
 forms ; I entered the school at the lowest, and got no higher than 
 the fifth, but was of course alternately under the care and tuition 
 of the four masters. Gardner, the lowest in grade, was the only 
 mild person amongst them ; the others had a little too much, 
 and perhaps he had much too little, of the severe in him for hig 
 station. Two more cruel tyrants than Bishop and Hose never 
 existed. They were great " deck- walkers," as I have always 
 designated those public nuisances, who, regardless of the fidgets 
 of poor nervous wretches like myself, mercilessly pace up and 
 down apartments, inflicting pangs unutterable on those who dare 
 not roar out, " Sit down, sir !" as old Sam Johnson did. Lord, 
 the fourth master, was rather an invalid, and, I believe, had been 
 prescribed gentle exercise ; he therefore put up for, and was the 
 successful candidate for, the flogging department. Rose was 
 so great an adept at the cane, that I once saw a boy strip, 
 after a thrashing from him, that he might expose his barbarous 
 
 * The most talented * ' entertainment" -girer of our days, Mr. Albert Smith, 
 -was also educated at Merchant Tailors'. 
 
 c2 
 
20 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 cruelty, when the back was actually striped with dark streaks 
 like a zebra. 
 
 Before I left the school, the pupils had the satisfaction of wit- 
 nessing the administration of the lex talionis in a most sum- 
 mary and somewhat awful manner. The boy I spoke of, like 
 Zanga, remembered " the blow," and on proceeding to college, 
 kept up the recollection of this most gratuitous barbarity ; for, 
 shortly afterwards, he came into the cloisters during a play- 
 hour, went to Rose's apartment, lured him to the door of it, 
 and horse-whipped him there before the admiring and approving^ 
 scholars until he roared for mercy. 
 
 This gave occasion to the abolition of flogging in this school ; 
 for, the next time Lord made the attempt, at a concerted signal 
 (the rebellion had been long in preparation), all the boys, to 
 the number of two hundred, rushed from the school-room into 
 the lobby, where punishment was usually inflicted, hustled the 
 pedagogue, rescued the victim, and scattered the birch into frag- 
 ments, each one carrying off a twig in token of victory. We 
 then returned into school with perfect coolness, having an- 
 nounced our determination una voce never again to submit to 
 such a degradation. To this arrangement the heads were com- 
 pelled to submit ; for so well was the spirited measure organized, 
 and so completely carried into effect, that no ringleader could 
 be pointed out as an example, and nothing short of the expulsion 
 of the whole number could have been resorted to. The affair, 
 therefore, was hushed up. There were young men from seven- 
 teen to nineteen years of age, just ripe for college — amongst 
 them my brother and Serjeant Pell (in our eyes men), and other 
 stout fellows — who swelled the ranks of the rebels. 
 
 William, my brother, was my senior by seven years, and, being 
 intended for the church, of course looked to a college education. 
 Thus did my father strike a fatal blow at his own peace. He 
 created a mortifying distinction between the rank in society of 
 his two sons — the eldest a gentleman, the youngest a tradesman. 
 Having made up his mind to " cramp my genius" behind a 
 counter, he was imprudent in sending me to a public school. 
 
 My dear and excellent brother had great natural talents, and 
 was indefatigable in his search after knowledge. He was essen- 
 tially a gentleman in all his feelings ; and his earliest associates 
 were high, if not in rank, certainly in talent. The pursuits that 
 engaged him were not those of other youths ; he was devoted to 
 profound and abstruse studies, mathematics, and had an absolute 
 thirst for languages, six of which he could speak or read before 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 21 
 
 he was twenty years of age. To gain perfection in these, his 
 time was occupied day after day, night after night. The school 
 exercises, of course, were only Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; 
 French was supphed by my father's means ; but at the time I 
 was young enough to sleep in the same room with him, he rose 
 at four or five o'clock in the morning to study Italian and 
 Spanish ; of which pursuits he was so unostentatious, that he 
 threatened me with the penalty of his displeasure if I revealed 
 to any one the hours he stole from sleep. Thus qualified at a 
 very early age, he entered Pembroke College, Cambridge, already 
 an accomplished gentleman. 
 
 If constant trials — if application — if marching and counter- 
 marching could have made a scholar of me, I ought to have been 
 an Admirable Crichton. At seven I started for the east end ; 
 at eleven I came out of school, and went to another in the neigh- 
 bourhood for writing and accounts, and to a French school in 
 the evening. 
 
 On Saturday, during nine months of the year, I went to 
 Whetstone, and stayed till Monday morning. This escape from 
 all descriptions of fagging, and from confinement — this freedom 
 of body and soul from the fetters of scholastic discipline — the 
 contrast between the narrow dirty lane where the school was 
 situated, and the pure air I breathed in my beloved little village, 
 was such a joyous emancipation, that the impression has dwelt 
 in my memory to the present hour ; and I feel the same impulse 
 to escape from London with all its attractions, and revel in 
 country pleasures, that I did when I was a schoolboy. Indeed, 
 every feeling, every propensity or peculiarity, I can trace to im- 
 pressions formed in my school-days. During my first engage- 
 ment in Drury-lane Theatre I lived at Colney Hatch, and in all 
 weathers returned home after the play, about eight miles, and 
 over Finchley Common, in an open carriage ; this was from pure 
 love of the country. Four years I lived at Fulham, and paid 
 the same midnight visits, frequently on horseback, to my house ; 
 and fourteen years at Kentish Town (commonly called Highgate 
 by my visitors, and not unfrequently Hampstead*) ; and I can 
 truly say, that the same feelings pervade nie at this moment. 
 Without enumerating my list of objections to all large cities, 
 and more particularly to London, I can only assert that I always 
 turn my back upon it with pleasure when I have anything lika 
 rural enjoyment in prospect. 
 
 * Mr. Mathews' house was situated in Mill-Field -lane, which is just above 
 Highgate Eise, on the hill between Kentish Town and Highgate. 
 
22 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 What an almost universal feeling is the regard for our native 
 place ! I have no such sentiment, unfortunately, and yet I 
 could never have been callous on such a subject, or have revisited 
 the scenes of my childhood without emotion, associated as they 
 were with the pleasing dreams of youth, of beloved relatives now 
 no more, or partners in school-tasks now toiling in far-distant 
 climes, or " seeking the bubble reputation." I feel nothing of 
 all this on entering my " native village." Its huge masses of 
 unfeeling brick and stone inspire me with frigid indifference as to 
 the street in which I first saw light. 'Tis death to the senti- 
 mental. Ah ! how different wQien the associations can be con- 
 centrated within the compass of a quiet, secluded hamlet ! I 
 never whisk through dear Whetstone in his Majesty's mail, that 
 I do not gaze right and left on some object that brings to me 
 pleasing as well as melancholy recollections of the past : I feel 
 that this is in reality my native place. 
 
 How many there are who assert that our school-days are the 
 happiest of our lives ! The happiest of mine were in flying j^om 
 school — when, feeling the value of my wings, I soared for two 
 days weekly in the picturesque beauty of Totteridge and its 
 neighbourhood, with the penalty, as I at last thought it, of a 
 sermon of one hour and forty minutes from my father on 
 Sunday. 
 
 I have already observed on my incipient fanaticism. It was 
 not until my removal to Merchant Tailors' that I began to waver 
 in my faith. The taunts of my schoolfellows, my mother's oppo- 
 sition, my brother's thorough contempt for the whole ignorant 
 crew that he well remembered, first awakened my attention. On 
 his visits at home during the Terms, my mother was always pre- 
 pared with a budget of " gospel-grievances." " Gospel," that was 
 the grand and leading watchword of the conspirators. " The 
 Church of England clergy are not gospel preachers ;" such was 
 their cant. Then, again, the depredations on my poor father's 
 purse — the subscriptions, the "mites for missionaries," the 
 building and rebuilding chapels, the " accommodation paper," 
 &c., were naturally sources of disgust to my mother. These 
 vacation visits brought me in closer contact with my brother 
 than I had ever been before, and the periodical pourings forth of 
 a sad spirit, and the union of sentiment between himself and my 
 mother, made me seriously incline to hear, if not devour up, their 
 discourse. 
 
 The following specimen of style will suffice to j ustify my general 
 assertions of the prevailing ignorance and indecent use of the 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 23 
 
 name of the Deity on all familiar occasions. The date of the 
 letter, which is faithfully copied, will explain that I obtained pos- 
 session of it many years after the period just spoken of, from my 
 father, to whom it was addressed on the sudden death of one of 
 his servants. 
 
 Me. Mathus 
 My veeey dear Fbinds 
 
 I simpothis with you under this verey sollom providenc the deth of 
 your survant, may our all wis Covenet God by His blesied Spirrit san- 
 tefey it; to Every one of you and my famley may owr gratious Lord 
 fill our souls with the oyell of his gras that we may allwayes be redey 
 We mest you last Nigt but the Lord wos with us may He Espeselly 
 be with you and der Mrs. Mathus your der Child and famley under 
 this Visettation prayes your ffnat Br. in a der Kedemer. 
 
 lo Hill. 
 
 Dr. Ferean of No 3 Lams Condict plase tould me yesterday he wos 
 goin to part with a good yong womon his housmaid if you thougt 
 proper to inquier after hor you are welcom to maik yous of my Name. 
 
 6th Jany. 1804. 
 
 I am not disposed now to speak with severity of any sect or 
 sects ; there is good in all : but 1 have evidence of the hollowness 
 of the many I knew, and I am positive that the persecutions of 
 some of the persons I treat of drove me from my home, and my 
 brother from his original profession. Their ignorance, their hatred 
 of those who differed from them, their intolerance, and their 
 scandalous mountebank tricks in the pulpit, I have a right to 
 comment upon, and I shall die in the belief that such familiar 
 uses of the name of the Almighty as are exemplified in the 
 pawnbroker's letter are blasphemous ; and the eloquence of the 
 first advocate in existence cannot persuade me that these men 
 were not in the constant habit of violating the third command- 
 ment. 
 
 My mother's visits to St. Martin's and other churches gave 
 me many opportunities of hearing eminent divines, from which 
 my father's pursuits would have debarred me. I was therefore a 
 listener in public and private, between the ages of ten and seven- 
 teen, when my mind was somewhat capable of reflection, to the 
 various and complicated tenets and doctrines of more than half 
 a score of disputants, for all the persons 1 am about to name, with 
 numbers whom I have forgotten, met at my father's house and 
 lorestled most vigorously. From day to day they brawled, as if 
 the best use to be made of religion was to quarrel about it ; and 
 what they were wrangling for 1 never knew, nor do I to this 
 
24i THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 hour. I had, however, the opportunity of hearing, amongst other 
 eminent men and writers on theology, John Wesley, Romaine, 
 DeCoetlogon, Dr.Madan, Toplady, Rowland Hill, Cecil, Cadogan, 
 &c. &c. ; and they were among the first gentlemen I had seen. 
 The clearly-drawn line of demarcation between these and the 
 vulgar herd that embittered my life, and eventually drove me 
 from my family fireside, added to my mother's example and high 
 bearing towards them, and her sincere attachment to the Church 
 of England, may account for my vacillations, and my ultimately 
 settling down as a true and I hope sincere member of the esta- 
 blished religion. 
 
 The bitterness with which I write of the canting hypocrites 
 who infested my father's house will, I trust, be excused in consi- 
 deration of the cruel persecutions I suffered at their hands. His 
 was, in fact, a sort of house-of-call for sanctified fiddlers, holy 
 hosiers, pious pedlars, and beatified butchers — for preachers of 
 the Huntingtonian, Wesleyan, Whitfieldean, Cantadean sects. 
 Lane at the Minerva press issued nothing but novels ; my father 
 was as well known for religious publications — he was the serious 
 publisher. I wish I could recollect the titles of one half of these 
 " pious tracts," as they were called : some of the works which he 
 published are now in existence, and I have seen them lately ; 
 others I remember well, such as " Deep Things of God, or Milk 
 and Strong Meat for Babes and Fathers in Christ;" "Nine 
 Points to tie up a Believer's Small-clothes ;" " Collins' Spouse 
 under the Apple-tree ;" " Hooks and Eyes for Believers' 
 Breeches;" "A High-heeled Shoe for a Limping Christian." 
 Some I, a profane person in their eyes, think too blasphemous 
 to be recorded, and one of Bunyan's too indecent to pollute my 
 pages with. 
 
 There was a coalheaver, one Huntington, a pretty specimen of 
 the mechanics I have spoken of — he who added S. S. to his name, 
 which he intended to mean Sinner Saved; but as even my 
 father's waggery extended to another interpretation, I may ven- 
 ture upon it. He one night came home from a " Religious Ex- 
 perience and Christians' Confessing Benefit Club," and found 
 Huntington making love to his cook in the kitchen — " basting 
 her with the hoyle of salivation," as he said. My father, in great 
 indignation, literally pushed him out of the house. I beheve 
 he gave him a kick, and as he sleeked his coahblack hair 
 with his dusty paws and their ebony terminations, about to 
 excuse himself, my father exclaimed, " William Huntington, S. S. 
 Sad Scoundrel.^^ 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 25 
 
 The disgusting sang-froid with which the same Huntington 
 used to speak of his actual colloquial intercourse with the Deity 
 would not be believed if related by a mere hearer, had he not put 
 it beyond doubt by publishing his blasphemies years after I heard 
 him spout forth his fiendish threats. 
 
 I find whole passages, with which I «sed to amwse my school- 
 fellows in imitation of the Coalheaver, in his printed works. 
 " He, good man ! was ashamed of nothing ;" and so he has put 
 on record innumerable lies of his dreams, conversations with the 
 Almighty, &c. In order to bear out my assertions of the infamy 
 of this man, I shall copy two or three specimens of what I have 
 repeatedly heard from him, as published by himself subsequently 
 in his " Bank of Faith." 
 
 " During the space of three years," says this Sinner Saved, 
 " I secretly wished in my soul that Grod would favour me with 
 a chapel of my own, being sick of the errors that were per- 
 petually broached by some one or other in St. Margaret's Chapel, 
 where I then preached ; yet I could not ask God for such a 
 favour, thinking it was not to be brought about by one so very 
 mean, low, and poor as m^^self. However, God sent a person 
 unknown to me to look at a certain spot, and afterwards took 
 me to lox)k at it. God stirred up a wise man to offer to build a 
 chapel, and to manage the whole work .without -fee or reward. 
 God drew the pattern in his imagination while he was hearing 
 me preach a sermon. I then took the ground, and the chapel 
 sprung up like a mushroom. I thought, after sueh large proofs 
 of my prayers being attended to, 1 would ask a few more favours. 
 My surtout coat was got very thin and bad, and the weather at 
 that time was very cold, and I felt it as I was going to preach, 
 and I prayed secretly for a coat. As soon as I delivered my 
 discourse 1 desired a young man to fetch my old great coat, in 
 order to put it on before I went out of the warm meeting-house ; 
 when he came back, lo ! he brought me a new one. I told him 
 it was not mine ; he said it was ; so I put it on, and it fitted very 
 well. In one of the pockets there was a /letter which informed 
 me my blessed Lord and Master had sent it .to me to wrap my 
 worthless carcass in during the very severe winter. I had 
 thought, by my continual coming and begging so many things 
 of my indulgent Master, I should weary him. My mock- 
 modesty had nearly deprived me of this new great coat. 
 
 "At this time," continues the Eeverend Coalheaver, "I 
 preached at llichmond, Ditton, Cobham, Farnham, ^.c. This I 
 •found too much for my strength. I found I had great need of 
 
26 THE LIFE AND COEKESPONDENCE OF 
 
 a horse, so I went to prayer and asked for more strength, less 
 work, or a horse. I used my prayers as gunners do swivels, 
 turning them every way as the cases required. I then hired a 
 horse to take me to town, and rode into the livery-stables near 
 Margaret- street Chapel ; but the ostler refused to take him in, 
 saying he had no room. I asked for his master, and he told me 
 the same story. I was then going out of the yard, when he 
 asked me if I was the person that preached at St. Margaret- 
 street Chapel ? I told him I was ; he burst into tears. He 
 said he would turn one of his own horses out and take mine in. 
 In a day or two he said some of my friends had been gathering 
 money to buv me a horse, and that he gave something towards 
 him. Soon after I got the horse, and one person gave me a 
 guinea to buy me a bridle, another gave me two whips, another 
 trusted me for a saddle; and here was a full answer to my 
 prayer." 
 
 I wonder how many answers a man might receive in these 
 days if he prayed that a saddler might be found to trust him 
 under similar circumstances. But he had not half done with 
 the credulous customers that were saddled — ay, and bridled too 
 — by him. The Coalheaver, " set on horseback," still longed 
 for something more ; he would not let his dear master have an 
 hour's rest ; he bestrode his Bucephalus and rode home. 
 
 " I told God," he continues, " as I went along, I had more 
 work for my faith now than heretofore, for the horse would take 
 half as much to keep him as my whole family ; but I lived and 
 cleared my way just as I did before, for I could not then get 
 anything either to eat or drink, wear or use, without begging 
 it of God " — i.e., he was too lazy to carry out coals, too stupid 
 to make a shoe, found nothing was so easy as to preach to 
 uneducated fanatics, and was not above spunging upon them 
 all. 
 
 Often have I heard him repeat the passage that follows, which 
 is nearly verbatim in his book, as far as my memory serves me — 
 "Having now had my horse several weeks, and going a great 
 way regular every Sunday, as might naturally be inferred, my 
 breeches began to wear out. I often made very free with my 
 master in my prayers, but he still kept me so uncommon poor 
 that I could not get them at any rate. At last I was determined 
 to go to one of my flock at Kingston that was in the breeches 
 line, and to get him to trust me until my master sent me money 
 to pay him." Is not this very like swindling ? 
 
 " I was going to London that day, and called on Mr. Croucher,- 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 27 
 
 a shoemaker (to diddle liim out of a pair of shoes). He told 
 me a parcel was left there for me ; I opened it, and, behold, 
 there was a pair of leather breeches !" 
 
 Now, what can be said or thought of the infatuated wretches 
 who would visit this wretched buffoon to hear " the word," as 
 they called it? Did any one of the "devil's children" ever 
 utter anything in a theatre so calculated to bring the very name 
 of religion into contempt as this ? In his book he published the 
 letter which accompanied the present : — 
 
 " Sir, — I have sent you a pair of breeches, and hope they will fit. 
 I beg your acceptance of them ; and if they want any alteration, leave 
 in a note what the alteration is, and I will call in a few days and alter 
 them. J. S." 
 
 Now hear S. S. reply to J. S-.: — 
 
 " Ste, — I received your present, and thank you for it. I was going 
 to order a pair of leather breeches, because I did not know till now that 
 my master had ordered them of you. They fit very well; which con- 
 vinces me that the same God who moved thy heart to give guided thy 
 hand to cut, because he perfect!}' knew my size, having clothed me in a 
 miraculous manner for near five years." 
 
 Often as I have heard this, I would not have ventured to offer 
 it to my readers if he had not borne me out by his own printed 
 testimony. If this be not the double-distilled essence of blas- 
 phemy, I know not what is. 
 
 If I were writing only the history of Methodist preachers, I 
 could relate innumerable anecdotes of the absurdities, blunders, 
 and practical jokes, &c., of these people, who have left the same 
 impression upon my mind that a set of strolling actors would 
 have left upon one of them, and about as much respect for their 
 calling as such pretenders to religion would feel for the clowns 
 and pantaloons of a comic pantomime. I have seen even Row- 
 land Hill* (I believe a sincere and excellent man), who had the 
 advantage of those I have spoken of in being a gentleman, guilty 
 
 * Rowland Hill, dissenting minister, as popular in his day as Mr. Spurgeoa 
 is at present, but possessing infinitely more education, natural talent, wit, 
 humour, sarcasm, and withal earnestness, than his successor has the credit 
 for, was born in 1744. He was the most zealous disciple of the celebrated 
 George Whitfield, and was minister of Surrey Chapel for upwards of fifty 
 years. He fitted his discourse to his congregation, illustrating the most solemn 
 truths with the most ludicrous and commonplace imagery, yet so forcible in 
 bis reasoning and so pure in his life, that he was worshipped by his congregation 
 and admired and reverenced by all who heard him. 
 
28 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 of such violence in the pulpit, that the impression of those who 
 were not accustomed to his oddities was that he was a maniac. 
 Frequently I have seen him wield and poise in the air, and shake 
 the Bible at his congregation, till he has dropped it amongst his 
 auditory. (It was a common thing to see him stoop to pick it 
 up within the pulpit.) I have seen him, while dealing out brim- 
 stone by the bushel and torments by the hundred-weight, knock 
 the candles. on either side out of their sockets. The pulpit 
 cushion was another plaything : I have often expected he would 
 throw it at me, and I perfectly recollect making the preparatory 
 action of a cricketer as I exchanged looks with some of my com- 
 panions, youngsters like myself, to catch it when he should hurl 
 it from him in his enthusiasm. He who had the advantages of 
 birth and association, and a college education, should have proudly 
 maintained his station in contradistinction to the vulgar herd of 
 " the elect," instead. of being a kind of leader to them ; but he 
 was as remarkable as the most unwashed and uneducated of the 
 set for the preaohing-made-easy system — the reducing the sublime 
 to the level of such understandings as theirs to whom they prin- 
 cipally addressed ihemselves — the notion of making Divine truths 
 clear to "the meanest capacity" by vulgar illustration. I shall 
 mention only three or four of his most extraordinary ..attempts at 
 effect in this way. 
 
 " The love of our Lord is like a good large round of beef, my 
 brethren — you may cut and come again." 
 
 Again — " You all know how difficult it is to catch a pig by the 
 tail ; you will find it eg^ually so to catch the love of our Lord 
 after backslidings." 
 
 On an occasion of his preaching a charity sermon, he said, " I 
 once got 1000^. by a charity sermon. I hope I shall get as much 
 to-day. But observe, if any of you are in debt, don't put any 
 money in the plate. Eecollect — take time — deliberate. If any 
 of you owe money, be just before you are. generous. Stop though. 
 On second thoughts, those who don't give will be pointed at. 
 ' Oh, he or she's in debt,' " &c;* 
 
 * Since I wrote down these, anecdote?, I made the following extract from a 
 newspaper, Dec. 30th, 1831. 
 
 "Popular Preaching. 
 
 " As the Rev. Rowland Hill was holding forth at the Tabernacle, Tottenham - 
 Court-road, a lady remarked the uncommon attention paid to him by a very 
 old person near her. When the discourse ended, the attentive hearer exclaimed, 
 * Grod bless his heart, he is as funny as ever !' " 
 
CHAELES MATHEWS. 29 
 
 I remember Eowland Hill from my infancy. He was an odd, 
 flighty, absent person. So inattentive was he to nicety in 
 dress, that I have seen him enter my father's house with one 
 red slipper and one shoe ; the knees of his breeches untied, 
 and the strings dangling down his legs. In this state he had 
 walked from Blackfriars-road, unconscious of his eccentric ap- 
 pearance. 
 
80 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 French school — Private theatricals — Master Elliston — First visit to a theatre, 
 and its effect — Literary attempt — Mr. John Litchfield — Major Topham — 
 William Mathews — "The Thespian Magazine" — Editorship — Death of 
 Edwin the comedian — Correspondence with Mr. Thomas Harris, the pro- 
 prietor of Covent Garden Theatre — Apprenticeship to his father — Macklin 
 — First appearance on a public stage with Mr. John Litchfield — Richmond 
 at Richmond — The Duke of Clarence and Mrs. Jordan — Second appearance 
 in public — Canterbury — Last appearance in the character of a bookseller — 
 Introduction to the agent of the Dublin Theatre — Engagement, and depar- 
 ture from home. 
 
 I NOW approach that period of my boyish days which is more 
 intimately connected with my after-hfe. I have before hinted 
 that my peregrinations from the Strand to Merchant Tailors' 
 School four times during the day ended in attending a French 
 school in the evening. This was kept by a Madame Cotterel, 
 who had fled from the horrors of the French Revolution, and 
 commenced teacher of her own language in England. Her 
 scholars were few and select. She resided in the tirst-floor of a 
 pastrycook's house near Bedford-street, Strand. The father of 
 the celebrated Flaxman, the sculptor, resided next door, and 
 Miss F. was one of my fellow pupils. In this evening academy 
 the foundation-stone of that fabric was laid which, whether or not 
 raised for the advantage of myself and the public, I must leave to 
 posterity to determine. Here, most imquestionably, ambition for 
 histrionic honours first fired my soul. I had never seen a play, 
 and probably should not have rebelled against my father's 
 authority and strict commands that I should not visit a theatre, 
 but for this accidental association. I believe all the pupils of 
 this lad}'^ had been indulged in this amusement but myself Some 
 three or four were panting for private theatricals, and amongst 
 them, unluckily for my father's peace — hear it, theatrical readers, 
 with some interest — Master Elhston ! He was already a spouter, 
 and I must own much more time was spent in English recitations 
 from dramatic authors than in French exercises. I was fasci- 
 nated by the specimens I heard, by imitation, of some of the great 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 31 
 
 actors, and scarcely knowing why, was insensibly led on to emu- 
 late these would-be heroes at the French school. This gradually 
 ripened into an overpowering, all-absorbing passion. Elliston, 
 afterwards so justly celebrated, was our prime leader; he was 
 only four years older than myself, yet the distinction between 
 man and boy almost existed between us, I being fourteen, and 
 he eighteen. 
 
 Having with some difficulty obtained our mistress's permission, 
 the play of " The Distressed Mother" was at length arranged and 
 got up, and I made my " first appearance on any stage" at the 
 theatre over the pastrycook's shop, first-floor front, in the cha- 
 racter of Fhoenix. Master Elliston enacted Pyrrhus^ and Orestes 
 was really well performed by a very interesting youth of the 
 name of Leftley, a poetical genius who distinguished himself in 
 many of the periodical publications of the day. Miss Osborne 
 and Miss Flaxman were among the performers. But Elliston 
 was our evening star, and distanced us all. It was a fine animated 
 performance, and created as much wonder and elicited as much 
 applause as the acting of Master Betty in later days. He was 
 pronounced at once a theatrical genius of the first order, and his 
 future pursuits in life fixed in the minds of all his auditors, if not 
 in. his own. 
 
 All I can recollect of my tragic attempt is, that it had an 
 effect — a powerful effect. The audience laughed as much at me 
 as I am proud to say they have since laughed with me. But I 
 had not the advantage of my competitors ; they had all seen 
 many plays — I not one. Each had probably selected some 
 favourite actor as a model, while the only specimens of elocution 
 I had to form my notions upon were, with a few exceptions, the 
 drawling, snuffling heroes of the conventicles. From this time 
 I am free to confess that our studies were in some degree 
 neglected, the English drama proving more attractive than 
 French exercises. 
 
 At the age of fourteen I commenced author — at least as much 
 so as many of our modern dramatists — for I translated the 
 Princess of Cleves, which was published in monthly contribu- 
 tions in the Ladies' Magazine. 
 
 The following year we got up " The Orphan " (I the 
 chaplain) ; Elliston was again our Magnus Apollo. His voice 
 had had twelve months' more mellowing, and he gave a specimen 
 of his vocal powers on this occasion by singing, between the 
 play and farce, " To Anacreon in Heaven " at a table, with 
 punch-bowl and glasses, while the scholars sat round as chorus. 
 
32 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 A gayer specimen of juvenile jollity I have never witnesseci 
 His joyous exuberance of mirthful enjoyment was worth) 
 Bacchus himself : he looked the rosy god when he chuckled ovei 
 
 " The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus' s vine." 
 
 His laughter-loving eye and round dimpled face were never" 
 displayed to more advantage even in after-days when crowded 
 audiences gave their testimony to his mirth-inspiring comic 
 powers ; and to the praise and the good taste of our critics at 
 the pastrycook's, be it spoken, they predicted his future great- 
 ness. Having a bad part in the tragedy, I stipulated for a 
 character in the afterpiece. A one-act farce, called " A Quarter 
 of an Hour before Dinner " (written by Mr. Rose, second master 
 of Merchant Tailors' School, and often acted at the Haymarket), 
 was selected, in which I enacted Mr. Lovel, and I have every 
 reason to beheve without the slightest approbation. I cannot 
 now remember whether by slow degrees I had gained my 
 father's consent to this, or whether it was kept a secret, but 
 certainly neither he nor any of my family were present. Again 
 he was unfortunate ; for how could he, good easy man ! have 
 anticipated that the reward for his parental anxiety respecting 
 my education should be to find himself thwarted in his best 
 hopes, by my being initiated into the mysteries of Melpomene 
 at a French Academy ? 
 
 I have already stated that a public school was not calculated 
 for a youth destined to stand behind a counter, and deal out 
 " More Last Words of Mr. Baxter," " High-heeled Shoes for 
 Limping Christians," and " Hooks and Eyes for Believers' 
 Breeches ;" for my associations there only gave me a distaste 
 for such occupations, while at the tart and tragedy manufactory 
 I imbibed an actual taste for other pursuits, and, instead of 
 reading "Huntington's Sinner Saved" (S.S.), "Brother Hill's 
 Experience of his Sainted Sarah," or "The Last Moments of a 
 Pawnbroker's Laundry Maid," or other such tracts from my 
 father's shelves, I selected the beauties of the living dramatists 
 which nestled unheeded among the great mass of sermons and 
 theological works. They heated my imagination, and, together 
 with the lessons in the French nursery, gave me the most 
 ardent desire to witness a play. On every occasion of my 
 father's absence, instead of standing behind the counter I 
 mounted upon it, and with a round ruler for a tmncheon, red 
 ink for blood, the kitchen poker for a sword, and a towering 
 goose-quill fixed on one side of my hat, turned up for the purpose, 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. S3 
 
 the skirt of my coat thrown gracefully over my left shoulder for 
 a mantle, and a red tape garter encircling my knee, did I exhibit 
 myself, to the great edification of his apprentices. 
 
 At length, on a certain, and oh, i'atal night ! a dark and 
 gloomy night, suited to the perpetration of such an act of dis- 
 obedience, with stealthy steps I trod my way. I dared not 
 look right or left, so conscious was I of the " deep damnation of 
 the deed ;" but my soul was in arms, my time was my own, my 
 will w^as free (my father had departed for Whetstone, his 
 constant custom on a Saturday evening, to indulge his own 
 pursuit), and I issued forth with my friend Litchfield, of the 
 Council-ofhce, from the bookseller's shop, to make my first entree 
 at a public theatre : this was in the autumn of 1790. Oh the 
 delights of that night ! that two shillings' worth of disobedience ! 
 My compimion and I have frequently laughed over the recollec- 
 tion of my frantic behaviour. He could not pacify me. He 
 had long been initiated into the mysteries of the scenic art; 
 but here I was, at fourteen, " at my first play," which Charles 
 Lamb has so beautifully described. The very curtain filled me 
 with anticipations of delight ; — the scenery, the dresses, the 
 feathers, the russet boots, the very smell of the theatre, 
 that mixture of orange peel and oil, the applause in which 
 1 joined so heartily as to bring all eyes and many remarks 
 upon me, to the great scandal of my cicerone, filled my 
 senses with delight. From that night my mind was in a state 
 of splendid irritation ; I could scarcely walk the streets without 
 offering " my kingdom for a horse," to every pedestrian I met. 
 At night I could not rest, Macbeth did " murder sleep ;" and I 
 recited Lear up three pair of stairs to a four-legged bedstead. 
 
 My thirst for dramatic fame was now of course increased ten- 
 fold. My next appearance was in a private theatre, as we termed 
 it, over a stable in an elegant part of the west-end of the town, 
 called Short's-gardens, I)rury-lane. I hope it was rather 
 more respectable as to its inmates then than now. Here I 
 joined a society of spouters, and, having stipulated for the best 
 parts, made my first attempt in comedy. Though Master 
 EUiston monopolized all the attention and applause in tragedy, 
 I thought that in low comedy I could beat him. I accordingly 
 determined to astonish my friends by appearing in Jacob 
 Gawkey, in " The Chapter of Accidents," and Le?iitive in " The 
 Prize." This must have been during the first season of that 
 farce ; and thinking that neither the audience nor myself could 
 have too much of a good thing, 1 favoured them with about ^ 
 
61 THE LIFE AND COREESPONDENCE OF 
 
 Idozen imitations of the favourite actors of the day. Suett and 
 Munden were pronounced to be near perfection. I cannot amuse 
 my readers, as I hope I did my audience, except in relating one 
 most absurd though appalling fact. In the commencement of 
 the second act there are two cases discovered, supposed to 
 contain Chinese bonzes sent as presents to Mr. Caddy. The 
 first is opened and discovers the bonze to the delighted eye of 
 the virtuoso. He then proceeds to No. 2, when he starts back 
 With surprise at discovering Dr. Lenitive in a new dress, the 
 caricature of the fashion of the day, who darts forward from the 
 cabinet with his lottery-ticket in his hand, by which he has 
 gained, as he supposes, 10,000/. During our rehearsals I was 
 much distressed at the difficulties that presented themselves in 
 the way of our obtaining these most important and indispensable 
 adjuncts. The expense of making them was too serious to 
 encounter ; and as I was the person most interested, and most 
 likely to suffiir from their absence, I gave a sort of vague order to 
 ^' knock up something " for the occasion. This was not attended 
 to, but I was assured that something would be prepared and 
 ready, when lo ! to my horror and amazement, when 1 came out 
 dressed in all my best, I discovered that the cabinet from 
 whence I was to issue forth was a sJiell from a workhouse. 
 
 At this epoch my pursuits took a literary as well as a dra- 
 matic turn, and my dehght when " The Ladies' Magazine" first 
 exhibited in print " The Princess of Cleves, by C. M.," was 
 boundless. I thought the eyes of all Europe were upon me, and 
 that the ladies who took in the work would unite in calling on 
 the Editor to insist on the author declaring himself I erected 
 my crest and craned my neck, as many a modern dramatist has 
 done when taking to himself the compliments upon his new 
 play, properly due to the Messrs. Scribe and Co. My friend 
 Litchfield, afterwards husband of the actress of that name, who 
 first displayed to me the splendours of Melpomene, was shortly 
 after that period connected with the press. My brother also 
 added to the income my father allowed him by contributions. 
 "The Oracle" was a new paper, and Topham, Parson Este, 
 Hewerdine, and a little clique of the elect, started a paper called 
 *'The World." Litchfield wrote the dramatic articles occasion- 
 ally for both, under the signature of " Pollio," and I believe 
 these were allowed to be the best criticisms of the day. My 
 brother was for a time parliamentary reporter to these and 
 others ; I therefore was insensibly enticed into this knot of 
 ■literati, and initiated into the mysterious arcana of diurnal 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 35 
 
 despotism. Captain, afterwards Major Topliam, was a most 
 prominent character on the canvas. I remember his appearance 
 well — a scarlet coat, a cocked hat, a large door-knocker of a tail 
 appended to a carefully-powdered head, that seemed to invite 
 you to give a rat-tat on his scarlet and white shoulders, and 
 inquire if the editor of " The World" was within ; his knuckles 
 crammed into his pockets, out of one of which peeped a short 
 but very thick stick, enough to show that he was prepared for 
 an attack. Lewis dressed at him in Reynolds' comedy of 
 " Notoriety," and had two lines in his epilogue, which were 
 evidently personal, and were always vociferously applauded : — 
 
 '* Hey, Tom, how do ? OL ! is that you, Dick Docket ? 
 You've stole my stick ! Oh, no ! it's in my pocket !" 
 
 Boaden, the author of the Life of Kemble, Mrs. Siddons, 
 Mrs. Inchbald, &c., was the editor of " The Oracle," and a cele- 
 brated dramatic critic. He was enthusiastically devoted to the 
 Kemble family, and on terms of intimacy with "Glorious John." 
 To these men I looked up as arbiters of the fate and fame of 
 many a Thespian hero. In all the freshness of youth, when 
 impulses burst forth without disguise, it was natural that, on 
 associating with these men, I should mistake inclination for 
 abihty — endeavour to emulate their example and become one 
 of them. 
 
 " The Thespian Magazine" (entirely devoted to the drama — I 
 need give no other reason for its decline and fall) was first edited 
 by several of my friends, and I commenced dabbler, and after- 
 wards editor ; but the pay was so contemptibly small (a guinea 
 per month), that it soon fell into other hands. During my 
 editorship appeared my first attempt at criticism. I was block- 
 head enough, after having seen only about a dozen plays, to 
 imagine myself qualified to write upon the subject, and censure 
 those who had devoted their minds and lives to the study of 
 their art. I was willing, though not able to be, as Coleridge 
 forcibly styles such persons, of " the animalculae that feed upon 
 the bodies of genius." 
 
 In the year 1790 the great comedian Edwin died, and had I 
 been a bad boy and stolen to the theatre during that summer 
 when he was acting at the Haymarket, I might have gained 
 many a hint that would have turned to my advantage in after 
 times ; but he died in August, and my first play was in Sep- 
 tember, so that I lost the opportunity of witnessing the extra- 
 ordinary comic efforts of that great actor, and have ever since 
 
 d2 
 
36 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 lamented that I should have been so tardy in my disobedience^ 
 To give an idea, however, of my peculiar modesty at this period, 
 the news of poor Edwin's demise was no sooner made known 
 than I made up my mind, inexperienced and ignorant as I was, 
 to succeed him. I lost no time in writing to Mr. Harris, the 
 proprietor of Covent Garden Theatre, tendering my services for 
 his situation. I luckily preserved a copy of my absurd letter, 
 and have also carefully cherished Mr. Harris's Yeply in evidence 
 of my own vanity and folly: — 
 
 " Sir, — The lamented death of Mr. Edwin making an opening in 
 your establishment, inspires me to offer myself as a candidate to supply 
 the vacancy. I have never performed in any public theatrical repre- 
 sentation yet, having been much engaged in business, but I trust this 
 will not operate against me. I already am perfect in Lingo and 
 JBowhitt, and know more than half of Old I)oiley. Salarj' is no 
 object, as I onl}^ wish to bring my powers into a proper sphere of action. 
 I do not wish to blaze out awhile and then evaporate. Being at present 
 bound to my father and under indentures,* of course his consent will 
 be necessary ; but this is the only impediment I am aware of. Your 
 immediate answer, if convenient, will be of great consequence to. 
 
 Sir, 3'our obedient servant, C. M." 
 
 Mr. Harris's reply was simply as follows : — 
 
 " Sir, — The line of acting which you propose is at this time so very 
 well sustained in Covent Garden Theatre, that it will not be in my 
 power to give you any eligible situation therein. 
 
 I am. Sir, your obedient servant, T. HiKEis." 
 
 In justification of this gentleman's rejection of my valuable 
 services, and in confirmation of my vanity, I have only to add, 
 that those excellent actors, Messrs. Munden and Fawcett, were 
 deservedly established favourites in the line to which I aspired. 
 
 Had I never turned manager myself, I should have been 
 under the mortifying impression of being the only silly boy that 
 could be guilty of such folly ; but I have since collected stores 
 of such specimens of harmless stupidity, many of them addressed 
 to myself. However, I was not to be stilled in m}^ theatrical 
 cradle ; I bought a pot of rouge and kept it in my drawer of, 
 best clothes, though I had no chance of using it, and burnt all 
 my father's corks, and put them by against the time I should 
 want eyebrows. Low comedy flamed high within me, Lingo 
 danced in my imagination, and Old Doiley raged in my soul. 
 
 * Every frequenter of the " At Homes" will recollect his fine personification 
 of the celebrated John Wilkes, before whom he appeared with his father on the 
 occasion of his apprenticeship. 
 
CHAKLES MATHEWS. S7 
 
 The former I used to go through, with all the songs, to my 
 father's apprentices and servants, with the most complete and 
 triumphant success, I procured a wig resembhng Edwin's, as I 
 guessed from portraits of him, and sung the songs in imitation 
 of imitations I had heard of him. 
 
 Here a blank is left in my husband's narrative, after a pencilled 
 name, which from memory I fill up. I have heard him relate 
 the following account so often that, though I may not be able 
 to give it so humorously as he would have done, I can yet tell 
 it truly ; — 
 
 At this time the aspirant sought an interview with the cele- 
 brated Charles Macklin,* who had then attained a hundred 
 years and upwards. He had been recommended to recite to him 
 for the purpose of gaining the veteran's opinion and instruc- 
 tions ; and, going by appointment to the residence of the aged 
 man in Tavistock-row, he found him ready to receive him. 
 When the door was opened, and the youth announced, there was 
 Macklin in his arm-chair, from which he did not attempt to rise, 
 nor, indeed, take any notice of the entrance of the stranger, but 
 remained with an arm on either elbow of the chair he sat in, 
 looking sour and severe at his expected pupil, who, hesitating on 
 the threshold, paused timidly, nay fearfully, which occasioned 
 the centenary to call out, in any but inviting tones, "Come 
 nearer 1 What do you stand tliere for P You can't act in the 
 gap of the door !" The young man approached. " Well," added 
 Macklin, in a voice ill calculated to inspire confidence, " don't 
 be afraid ! Now — let me hear you." This crabbed austerity 
 completely chilled the aspirant's ardour ; however, mustering up 
 all the confidence this harsh reception had left him, he began to 
 declaim according to the approved rules of " speech-days.'* 
 Macklin, sitting like a stern judge waiting to pronounce sen- 
 tence upon a criminal, rather than to laud a hero, soon inter- 
 rupted the speech with a mock imitation of the novice's monoto- 
 nous tones, barking out, " Bow, wow, wow, wow !" This was 
 enough to damp the Thespian flame which had lighted the poor 
 youth into the presence of the terrible old man, and he felt him* 
 
 * Charles Macklin (real name MacLaughlin), actor and dramatist, born in 
 1690, first appeared in London in 1725, specially celebrated for his per- 
 formance of the character of Shy lock. His best-known comedy is "The 
 Man of the World," which still keeps the stage. He died in 1797, aged one 
 hundred and seven. 
 
38 THE LIFE AND COEEESPONDENCE OF 
 
 self unable to make another essay, but stood, with downcast eyes 
 and swelling heart, awaiting the verdict which he expected. At 
 last Macklin, with increased severity of manner and voice, asked 
 (pokhig his head forward at the same time, as if to impress his 
 question the more strongly) — " Young man, are you at all aware 
 what the quahfications of an actor should he f " The youth 
 sighed out, " I believe not, sir." — Macklin. "No, I am sure you 
 are not. I will tell you, then, sir " (poor Charles Mathews had 
 never in his life before been called " sir," and it seemed to him 
 an awfully responsible word at that moment) — " I will tell you 
 what he ought to be ; what I was, and what no man was ever 
 eminent without being. In the first place, an actor ought to 
 possess a fine, an expressive ei/e — ' an eye like Mars, to threaten 
 and command.' " (His own flatly contradicted his assertion.) 
 " Sir, he should have a beautiful countenance." (Charles looked 
 up at his ; but so many lines had crossed what of beauty might 
 have once been written there, that nothing of it was legible.) 
 " He should be able to assume a look that might appal the 
 devil ./" (Here, indeed, he had one requisite in full force.) 
 " He should possess a fine, clear, mellifluous voice !" (alas ! his 
 own sounded like a cracked trumpet) — " a graceful figure, siV." 
 (The lean and shppered pantaloon was an Apollo Belvidere to 
 Mackhn.) "But, above all, young man" — (and here the 
 speaker's tone deepened into something like solemnity) — above 
 all, an — actor — should — possess — that — first — great — natural — 
 requisite — that — test — of — genius — a good — good — sir,'' (added 
 he, in a loud and angry voice, as if commanding assistance) — " I 
 wsint Si word/ — he should, I say, possess a good — retentive — " 
 " Memory !" cried out the young man. " Ay, sir, Memory ^ 
 
 Here the old man seemed to dwell for a while pensively upon 
 the attribute just Ze?2^ to him; then rousing himself from his 
 thoughtful posture, he looked up in his visitor's face, as if in- 
 quiring what he did there ? " Well, sir ?— oh ! well, well," — 
 (as if rising from the abyss of forgetfulness) — " as I have said 
 —an actor's requisites are many. Amongst the rest, discrimi- 
 nation. Sir, in the course of my long life I never knew more 
 than three actors who possessed discrimination. David Garrick 
 was one, — J, Charles MacMin, another, and the third was 
 — a — a — a — ." (Here his voice sank, as if step by step, till it 
 reached a landing-place, where it was stationary and mute for 
 some seconds ; he then added, in a sort of mental soliloquy, and 
 with a half sigh, " 1 forget who was the other !" Then, closing 
 his eyes, he sank back into his chair, as if asleep, and was cer- 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 3^ 
 
 tainly unconscious of the exit of the young Thespian, who, shut- 
 ting the door quietly after him, flew down stairs like a lapwing, 
 opened the street-door, and ran away rejoicing in his escape, as 
 if he feared the sour old man, who had curdled his blood with 
 his severity, would have shut him up for life in his dreary 
 presence. 
 
 Mr. Mathews had not, however, seen him for the last time ; 
 for, before he left home for Dublin, he was seated next to 
 Macklin in the pit of one of the theatres, when, totally un- 
 mindful that he had ever met the youth before, he addressed him 
 on the occasion of an actress, of a certain age, performing a 
 youthful hoyden, and afiecting the lightness and agility of girl- 
 hood. Macklin ought to have known her — (she was either Miss 
 or Mrs. Fope ; both of the old school) — but that he had con-f 
 fessedly lost an actor's great requisite, memory ; and he asked 
 his neighbour the name of the lady, who seemed to amuse him, 
 several times in the course of the performance. At last, on her 
 more than ordinary display of agility, Macklin turned round and 
 observed, in a voice that seemed to issue from a cavern, " Sir, 
 that lady jumps very high, but she comes down very heavy. ^^ 
 
 Autohiography resumed. 
 
 From this period I remained at Merchant Tailors' School ; 
 and, during vacation time and leisure hours, " served in the 
 shop," as Brother Hill would have said. Dick, in Murphy's 
 "Apprentice," was a mere type of me. He neglected only the 
 shop in pursuit of his spouting propensities, but I forgot counter, 
 cloisters, chapel, father, mother, all ; and my master-passion led 
 me at length to an act of open rebellion. I began more than to 
 suspect that the managers of the theatres would not engage a 
 raw inexperienced youth, merely to gratify his silly ambition, 
 when, to my great delight, I heard Trom Litchfield, who was 
 quite as stage-struck as myself, that the manager of the Rich- 
 mond Theatre would allow any young gentleman to perform who 
 would pay him ten guineas. What condescending liberality ! 
 How could he ask a smaller sum ? I negotiated with him ; and 
 had the great good fortune to bring the potentate to even more 
 moderate terms, namely, that he would allow two young gentle- 
 men to perform for fifteen. This I communicated with great 
 glee to my brother enthusiast, who had ambition enough to aim 
 at the highest honours of the art at once. He jumped at the 
 
40 THE LIFE AND COERESPONDENCE OF 
 
 proposal, and declared himself ready studied in " Kiehard the 
 Third." 
 
 Now, it so happened that I had a passion for fencing which 
 nothing could overcome ; and this friend of Melpomene and 
 mine learnt the exercise at the same academy with myself. 
 Therefore, for the delight of exhibiting my skill and legitimate 
 love of the art, I kindly consented to take the inferior, insipid 
 part of MicJimond, who does not appear until the fifth act of the 
 play, I stipulating, however, for a good part in the after-piece. 
 I cared for nothing except the last scene of Richmond, but in 
 that I was determined to have my full swing of carte and 
 tierce. I had no idea of paying seven guineas and a half without 
 indulging my passion. In vain did the tyrant try to die, after a 
 decent time ; in vain did he give indications of exhaustion ; I 
 would not allow him to give in. I drove him by main force 
 from any position convenient for his last dying speech. The 
 audience laughed : I heeded them not. They shouted : I was 
 deaf. Had they hooted, I should have lunged on in uncon- 
 sciousness of their interruption. I was resolved to show them 
 all my accomplishments. Litchfield frequently whispered, 
 " Enough !" but I thought with Macbeth — 
 
 "Damn'd be he who first cries, Hold ! enough !" 
 
 I kept him at it ; and I believe we fought almost literall}'- " a 
 long hour by Shrewsbury clock." To add to the merriment, a 
 matter-of-fact fellow in the gallery, who in his innocence took 
 everything for reality, and who was completely wrapt up and 
 lost by the very cunning of the scene, at last shouted out, 
 " Damn him ! why does not he shoot him ?" 
 
 His present Majesty, William IV., was in a private box, with 
 Mrs. Jordan, on this occasion, having been attracted from Bushy 
 by the announcement of an amateur JRicliard ; and I heard after- 
 wards, that they were both in convulsions of laughter at the 
 prolongation of the fight, which that most fascinating and first 
 of all great comic actresses never forgot. Years after, when we 
 met in Drury-lane green-room, I was relating, amongst other 
 theatrical anecdotes, the bumpkin's call from the gallery in 
 commiseration of the trouble I had in killing Richard, when she 
 shook me from my feet almost, by starting up, clasping her 
 hands, and in her fervent, soul-stirring, warm-hearted tones, ex- 
 claiming, *' Was that you? I was there T and she screamed 
 with laughter at the recollection of my acting in Richnondj and 
 
CHAELES MATHEWS. 4l 
 
 the length of our combat. She thought it was my friend's 
 love of acting that induced him to spin it out. She was loud 
 in praise of his personation of Gloster ; and a very sensible, 
 judicious reading of the character it doubtless was. The farce 
 was " The Son-in-law." He enacted Arionelli, the opera-singer, 
 a singular effort after so arduous a part as Gloster; but he ac- 
 quitted himself with credit. I attempted, after my fencing 
 mania had been satisfied, to dance myself into favour in the 
 character of Bowkitt, in that most whimsical afterpiece. Here 
 I had an opportunity afforded me of exhibiting a third accom- 
 plishment. Having convinced in JRichmond all the people at 
 Richmond that I could fence, and in Bowkitt, that I v^SLsmattre 
 de danse, I satisfied them that my musical education had not 
 been neglected. The incipient Paganini delighted the audience 
 by a country-dance tune on the kit.* 
 
 [In my husband's notices of his early career, he has not put 
 down his second attempt upon a public stage, the particulars of 
 which, as I clearly recollect them, may properly be related in 
 this place. 
 
 Early in 1794, he and his fencing friend (Mr. Litchfield) pre- 
 vailed upon another liberal manager to permit them to pay a 
 sum of money to perform at Canterbury, where " Richard the 
 Third" showed them in their former glory, as Richard and 
 Bichmond. The latter, from pure love of fighting (like Sir 
 Lucius O' Trigger), was once more performed by the comedian, 
 who afterwards, from equal love of acting, played Old Doiley, 
 in the farce of " Who's the Dupe ?" 
 
 The requisite reserve with their mutual friends (for Mr. 
 Litchfield's family had also a dash of seriousness in it) pre- 
 
 * The following criticism upon his performance I have found in a London, 
 paper, dated Monday, Sept. 9th, 1793. 
 
 " Richmond Theatre. 
 
 " ' Richard the Third' was on Saturday evening represented." After 
 great eulogy upon the performance of Mr. Litchfield in Richard, the criticism 
 concludes : — 
 
 ** Another gentleman also made his first appearance in a theatre the same 
 evening, as Richmond and Bowkitt. Fear depressed his voice in the former 
 part, and in the latter he frequently spoke too indistinctly to be heard in the 
 distant seats. He manifested some naivete, however, in the Dancing Master^ 
 and trod the boards with free and easy steps. Had he combatted with a less 
 powerful rival, his attempt had been better justified ; as it was, he did not 
 disgrace the company he performed with." 
 
42 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 eluded these young men from completely indulging their vanity ,' 
 by carrying with them any admiring witnesses of their 
 triumphs ; so that they were driven to the expedient of inviting 
 " mine Host" of the Fleur de lis, where they put up, to go and 
 see the performance, who graciously consented to accept a ticket. 
 
 In spite of remonstrance from his coadjutor, and consciousness 
 of former ridicule, Bichmond resolved again to prolong the last 
 struggles of the tyrant ; and when Bichard fell, he poked him 
 up, in the same spirit with the boy in " The Children in the 
 Wood," who says to Walter, after he has killed Oliver, " Kill 
 him again! such a villain cannot be too dead!" and recom- 
 menced the attack. Thus the combat lasted as long as before, 
 and the two fencers gained much applause, without the laughter 
 with which the Richmond folks treated them. On the contrary, 
 the good people of Canterbury enjoyed the stubbornness of the 
 contest, and their interest in it was manifested by repeated 
 cheers at BicJiard^s skill in parrying such vigorous and perse- 
 vering attempts to put him out of the world. They were in 
 fact delighted to see him die hard ; while it was evident that, 
 had he a thousand lives, Bichmond'' s " great revenge had stomach 
 for them all." In fine, the curtain dropped under shouts of 
 approbation from the discerning few ; and the two stars lighted 
 each other home, eager to receive the private meed of their 
 exertions, from a quarter whence they were especially due. 
 
 After a few minutes, " mine host" placed their supper upon 
 the table with great care and precision : but not one word did 
 he speak. The tired performers sat down, but did not find the 
 food they required. They hungered and thirsted for praise, for 
 which they had a craving — nay, an insatiable appetite. The 
 best carver cut up the chicken more as a form than from a desire 
 to eat of it ; and in the course of the operation put several 
 leading questions to the silent landlord. Still nothing satis- 
 factory was elicited. As soon, however, as he and the waiter 
 had carried off the remnants of the supper, which at last the 
 guests had fallen upon in earnest, from the wish to detain their 
 host, they invited him to return for the purpose of taking some 
 punch with them. In due time he re-entered the room with a 
 pipe lighted, and sat himself down to enjoy the offered glass. 
 Now then was the time. Several fishing-lines were thrown, but^ 
 not one compliment did they hook : at last, the friends tacitly 
 agreed to discard all finesse, and fairly drag out with a net the 
 prey they were so determined on securing. Bichard asked 
 resolutely, " Pray, Mr. , how did you like the tragedy ?" 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS, 43 
 
 The landlord paused, with his eyes downcast, after the approved 
 manner of smokers ; and, puff — puff — puff, was the only reply. 
 " How," said the comedian, who was impatient, " how did you 
 like the farce?" Puff — puff— puff, again (but not one puff for 
 the actors). The question was then put into a more peremptory 
 and determined form : " Pray tell us really what you thought of 
 our acting ?" There was no evading so direct an attack. Th& 
 landlord looked perplexed, his eyes still fixed upon the ground ; 
 he took at length the tube slowly from his mouth, raised his 
 glass, and drank off the remnant of his punch ; went to the fire- 
 place, and deliberately knocked out the ashes from his pipe ; 
 then looking at the expectants for a minute, exclaimed in a 
 deep though hasty tone of voice, " D — d good fight !" and left 
 the room. Sir Oracle having thus oped his mouth, not one 
 word more could be extracted ; and to this day his opinion upon 
 the rest of the performance remains a sealed mystery.] 
 
 Autohiography resumed. 
 
 My future fate was now sealed. To buckle to business after 
 tasting of public applause was not within the boundaries of 
 probable expectation. My first act of open rebellion was accom- 
 panied by an assault in the eye of the law. From the age of 
 fourteen until the period at which I now arrive, I occasionally 
 served in the shop during the holidays. A purse-proud, vulgar 
 customer of my father's, who never would condescend to alight 
 from his carriage, exacted of me, "the shop-boy," the most 
 degrading of all duties, that of carrying articles to a carriage. 
 I had been sent backwards and forwards in the rain too often 
 to agree with my irritability, when, goaded into madness by 
 his haughtiness, I felt at once that I never could suit myself 
 to such purposes. " This is the second edition, I want the 
 first :" again I returned to the shop. " This is bound in russia,, 
 calf-gilt will do for me. The boy's a fool !" said he, and then I 
 threw the book in his face. This was about " my last ap- 
 pearance in that character." 
 
 Destiny, a word so often repeated by Napoleon, now began to 
 develop her plans. I could not resist my fate. Early in the 
 year 1794 1 had made up my mind to make the stage my pro- 
 fession, and began to ponder upon the when, the where, and the 
 how, when chance threw in my way Hitchcock, who wrote the 
 " History of the Irish Stage." All authors upon such subjects 
 
44 THE LIFE- AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 were welcome to me ; and, after an introduction, I heard with 
 great delight that he was a sort of Serjeant Kite to the Dublin 
 corps of Thespians, and was now in London beating up for 
 recruits : in short, I enlisted. He did not give me a shilling, 
 and I believe never would if he could with decency have 
 avoided it. I was fairly kidnapped, after all, inasmuch as it 
 was quite clear that the Irish agent, as he was termed, had no 
 power to fulfil the flattering promises he had made to me. It is 
 true I was inexperienced, but this he knew. I did not deceive 
 him, and I never swerved from my original inclination. I 
 stipulated as far as possible for what is termed low comedy ; for 
 I had no pretensions to anything above that. Tragedy I never 
 dreamed of. Why he engaged me at all was a puzzle to me 
 when I had leisure for repentance in Dublin. My salary was to 
 depend on my success. Could I doubt that it would be liberal ? 
 It was agreed that I should join the corps in Dublin at the 
 latter end of May, 1794. 
 
 I had now a scene to encounter that required some little 
 courage to support — namely, to break the intelligence to my 
 father that I had determined to quit the parental roof, and 
 follow the stage as a profession. He was in some measure pre- 
 pared for the blow. I requested him to cancel my indentures 
 of apprenticeship. "At all events," said I, "1 am resolved to 
 quit this house." 
 
 "You will live to repent this act of disobedience," said he. 
 
 " I doubt it, dear sir : ' my fate cries out.' " 
 
 "Don't shock my ears, sir, with such language," said my 
 father. 
 - "'Tis Shakspeare^s, sir; I have heard you quote him." 
 
 " I was unconscious, then," said he. 
 
 "No, sir," said I: "you did him but justice when you de- 
 fended yourself from the attack of one of your bigoted brothers, 
 by saying the words you used were certainly from the works of 
 an inspired writer." 
 
 " Do not be profane, sir." 
 
 " Far from it, my dear father, * I speak it not profanely ;' but 
 I cannot be persuaded that the magnificent mind which seems 
 to have unclosed the book of fate, and penned lessons of morality 
 for all ages, could have been so directed by the mighty Mover 
 of all, if in his sight such productions were so wicked as you 
 believe them to be. I can endure no longer the tyranny of 
 those I consider as rebels. They are avowed enemies to the 
 established religion of the country. Besides, if I am to believe 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 45 
 
 them, they are too good for me. I am embarrassed in their 
 presence — I feel my own nothingness ; I, a sinner, shrink from 
 such purity." 
 
 " Your sneering at those good men shows how well j^ou are 
 qualified for the profession you have chosen," repHed my father. 
 
 " There are some gentlemen, at least," said I, " in that pro- 
 fession ; not one amongst those who have driven me from home. 
 Let me fly from these noxious reptiles — these persecutors and 
 slanderers — ' I banish them.' " 
 
 "That httle vagabond, Garrick," said he, "bit you, when he 
 took you in his arms ;" and here our colloquy closed. 
 
 Our painful interview ended by my kind but rigid parent 
 saying, that, since I was determined on this sinful step, he 
 would furnish me with the means of accomplishing my journey ; 
 though even this was an act that warred with his conscience. 
 A day or two after this, and after an affecting interview with 
 ray very truly beloved mother, who slipped a gift into my 
 hand bedewed by her tears, I embarked on board the " Chester 
 heavy," in my way to Parkgate, whence I had been advised to 
 sail for Dublin ; a passage, 1 believe, now nearly abandoned. 
 
 I had now the world before me where to choose. There 
 was something of uneasy foreboding in the contemplation of my 
 future prospects. I could not with indifference turn my back 
 on the home of my youth; and yet I bitterly felt what it 
 might have been, and what it ought to have been to me. How 
 different the sensations with which my brother must have left 
 the same home ! when every anticipation of his young and 
 ardent mind was joyous ; — his college and studies, his youthful 
 and agreeable companions, inhabitants of a world I was for- 
 bidden to explore. He could at once renounce the sanctified 
 mechanics, and retain his parents' approbation ! 
 
 I indulged in one reverie after another during rather a me- 
 lancholy journey. Before this I had never been from home 
 twenty miles,* and was not fitted by nature or education to 
 encounter the difficulties and hardships of even a stage-coach 
 journey. I was shy of my travelling companions, for I knew 
 nothing of what was called the world ; and therefore did not 
 then, as I have done since, to my great profit, extract aught of 
 fun or frolic from my expedition. 
 
 It was a dark and dreary morning when I landed at the 
 Pigeon House ; and, in spite of myself, a melancholy foreboding 
 
 * Excepting in his visit to Canterbury. 
 
46 THE LIFE AND COREESPONDENCE OF 
 
 stole over me. I had embarked on a dangerous sea of adventure, 
 without rudder, compass, or pilot ; and all seemed comfortless. 
 *' Where am I ? who knows me ? In a strange country, without 
 a friend, without a recommendation, and almost without money;" 
 for my pride had struggled with, and mastered my prudence. 
 It was fortunate that I had not been scrupulous with my dear 
 mother, or I might have rued it ; for the mite given me by 
 the good man my father was nearly expended before I was well 
 settled in my first Irish lodging. 
 
 I landed on the 28th of May, 1794 ; and a thinner and more 
 consumptive specimen of an Englishman never set foot on the 
 Emerald Isle. As soon as Aurora condescended to develop her 
 plans for the day, I was cheered. The goddess shone forth in 
 all her spring splendour ; — the exceeding and novel drollery of 
 all the lower orders, with whom I had my first dealings after I 
 left the Custom-house, came upon me with such irresistible 
 force, that I could not negative a proposal, however absurd, for 
 laughing. The powerful contrast that manifests itself on first 
 landing in France is not greater than that experienced by a 
 close observer when he encounters the crowd of whimsical beings 
 who surround and pummel him after his luggage is cleared from 
 the Custom-house in Dublin. 
 
 Here the Autobiography, in a connected state, unfortunately 
 terminates ; but some detached fragments, intended to have 
 formed a part of it, will be introduced in their proper places. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 47 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Early letters to his friend Mr. John Litchfield — Departure from home — Journey 
 to Ireland — Dublin — Introduction to Daly the Manager — Mrs. Wells 
 (afterwards Mrs. Sumbel) — Owenson — Miss Campion (afterwards Mrs. 
 Pope) — Miss Farren — Holman — Honourable Mrs. Twisleton — Dishonour- 
 able conduct of Daly — In danger of being drowned — An Irish Humane 
 Society. 
 
 At this period of Mr. Mathews's career, I introduce the 
 following letter (the prelude to many others), written on the 
 eve of his departure from his paternal roof It will show that 
 his affectionate feelings, and love of home, were only interrupted, 
 not destroyed, by the ruling passion ; and that his family, how- 
 ever objectionable his bias and pursuits seemed to their precon- 
 ceived notions, had become resigned, if not reconciled, to the 
 course of life he had determined to pursue. 
 
 His last amiable consideration for those whom he neverthe- 
 less felt irresistibly compelled to quit, proves the tenderness 
 inherent in his nature, and that in leaving, though voluntarily, 
 for the first time, his excellent parents and the roof under which 
 he was born, he was not therefore divested of that portion of 
 suffering which a good mind and feeling heart ever undergo at a 
 necessity of inflicting pain on those whose love and good inten- 
 tions are indisputable, even when the manner of evincing them 
 is inimical to the happiness they would promote. 
 
 The ensuing letters are the compositions of a youth, much 
 younger than his years, from the circumstances of his bringing- 
 up, and his too long confinement to 
 
 ** Home, -where small experience grows," 
 
 His health from childhood had been weak ; his growth so rapid 
 as to give serious apprehensions that his life would terminate 
 early. He was, besides this, his mother's darling ; and he might 
 be said, in familiar phrase, to have been " tied to her apron- 
 string" much longer than male children are expected to be 
 petted. This mode of treatment, while it kept his mind from 
 the contamination of evil, narrowed the sphere of his ideas. 
 
48 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 He was scarcely emancipated from home prejudices and fire-side 
 habits (for his term at a public school was not of long duration), 
 and the custom, which his fond mother insisted on, of his passing 
 every allowed period of absence from school duties under her 
 own eye, precluded that wholesome and necessary experience 
 which a community of boys inevitably gives, in little, of the 
 grown-up world before them. 
 
 The modesty of his self-opinion ; the generosity with which 
 he judges the conduct and merits of those about him ; his manly 
 though meek endurance not only of the trials he had incurred 
 by his resignation of his home prospects, but even of the in- 
 justice which he vi^as not prepared to expect ; his integrity and 
 good temper ; his proud independence and honourable notions — 
 all combine to constitute these letters a most interesting feature 
 in the opening of his eventful history. They assuredly display 
 the native goodness of his disposition, while they must mirth- 
 fully amuse every person versed in theatricals and acquainted 
 with the genius which, by dint of the most laborious struggles, 
 and most untiring perseverance, raised its possessor to the height 
 of the profession he so ornamented. What but smiles can 
 attend upon those relations which present him in characters 
 not only of the most insignificant nature, but in style so prepos- 
 terous, under the present recollections of the performer ! * 
 
 To Mr. John Litchfield, Jun. 
 
 Strand, 28th May, 1794. 
 
 Deae Litchfield, — As I leave town at six o'clock to-morrow 
 morning, I must pass this evening at home. My father and mother 
 have a very particular desire thcit you should sup with them ; and this 
 being the last evening we can spend together for sometime, I hope you 
 will favour us with your company. 
 
 As for the play, you can see the new piece any^ other evening; and 
 " Alexander" is not to be endured. We can drink our parting glass as 
 comfortably in our room, nay, I hope more so, than at Williams's.f I 
 must pass this evening with you ; therefore do not tear me from home. 
 
 Your mother was so good as to ask me to tea before I went ; I shall 
 therefore come down this afternoon. Be good enough to look at my 
 books, and send them by George, as I wish to pack them up. 
 
 * I take this opportunity of thanking Mr. Litchfield for the loan of these 
 letters. But for Lis kindness, the whole of the period of Mr. Mathews's 
 life, to which they relate, must have been a total blank, excepting a few 
 anecdotes left upon my memory, from my husband's occasional repetition of 
 them. 
 
 + A tavern in Bow-street, which was, I am informed, much frequented 
 the stage-stricken. 
 
 a of I 
 by J 
 
 m 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 49 
 
 I have sent you Boaden's play ; and also " Travellers in Switzerland." 
 This latter is the only new play I have. 
 
 Yours sincerely, Charles Mathews. 
 
 To Mr. John Litchjleld, Jun. 
 
 Chester, May 31st, 1794. 
 
 Dear Litchfield, — I arrived in this city last night at nine o'clock, 
 at a very large and commodious inn. Mr. Hitchcock was obliged to 
 leave on Wednesday, but left me a letter of direction to find him in 
 Ireland. I met with an Irish gentleman, of the army, in the coach, 
 who was going to Dublin ; and he has recommended me to a captain of 
 a packet, whom we met here. We sail to-morrow morning at eight 
 o'clock, and leave Chester at two this afternoon for Parkgate. I break- 
 fasted yesterday at Litchfield, where I had the pleasure to find that 
 Garrick and Johnson were well reraerab3red. One of the inhabitants 
 showed me where Johnson was born ; and there are some of the 
 Garricks now in the town. It is their market-day here; and the 
 situation from the inn is very similar to that in the market at Canter- 
 bury, with the same kind of entrance to the cathedral. I have been 
 very fortunate here at breakfast. I unexpectedly met with a couple of 
 muffins ; and a fine leg of pork is now being dressed for dinner ! I 
 cannot hear from you till I get to Dublin, from whence I will write as 
 soon as I arrive. Remember me most affectionately to all your family, 
 and to all others who think me worth inquiring after j and believe me 
 to be 
 
 Yours unalterahlj'-, Charles Mathews. 
 
 (Saturday, One o'clock.) 
 
 To Mr. John Litchfield, Jun. 
 
 Dublin, June 4th, 1794. 
 
 Dear Litchfield, — I left Parkgate on Sunday last at two o'clock, 
 and arrived in Dublin last night at eleven, which is reckoned a re- 
 markably tedious passage, as they frequently cross in fourteen hours. 
 I was extremely well during the voyage, a very uncommon circumstance 
 on board. I slept at an hotel, and found Mr. Hitchcock this morning, 
 who walked about Dublin with me for two hours, to look for a lodging; 
 all of which I found most extravagantly dear. I have got one chamber, 
 with a closet to dress in, for 6*. Qd. a-week, which in English money is 
 only Qs. It is by far the handsomest lodging I met with, and, here, is. 
 reckoned wonderfully cheap ! I met with several inferior, at 8*. and 
 upwards, to 155. ; single rooms, with ragged beds. You recollect, on 
 our last meeting, recommending me to one at 3*. ; conceive, then, after 
 walking two hours, to be surprised at meeting with one so cheap as 6*. 
 
 I was this morning introduced to Daly, who behaved very politely to' 
 me. He is as tall and corpulent as Williams in Bow-street. I am to 
 
Sd THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 rehearse Jemmy Jumps to-morrow morning ; and I expect to play next 
 Monday, but am not quite certain what character. The play this 
 evening is " He would be a Soldier," and the farce of "All the World's 
 a Stage," by command of the Lord-Lieutenant. At present they have 
 no professed low comedian. Meadows, a singer (who performs Caleb 
 to-night), is the only actor of any consequence in this line. I had 
 some conversation with Mrs. Wells this morning in the green-room. 
 I talked of The World newspaper to lier. She speaks very highly of 
 Fuller and J. Hewerdine, but not so of Swan. When I told her he 
 was in the militia, she laughed most extravagantly. I shall write as 
 soon as possible again to you to tell you something of this very superb 
 city. Direct to me, at Mrs. Moland's, No. 14, Exchequer- street, 
 Dublin ; and believe me to be 
 
 Yours ever most affectionately, Charles Mathews. 
 
 To Mr, John Litchfield, Jun. 
 
 Dublin, June 14th, 1794. 
 Dear Litchfield, — I admire Dublin exceedingly. You will no 
 doubt be surprised to hear that I am going to leave it. Daly has 
 behaved extremely ill to me ; for he has put me off from day to day 
 with promises of playing, and he has as often disappointed me. I 
 promised Mrs. Wells to play for her benefit. It will be next Thursday. 
 I am to play Lingo, and, I believe, Jacob. I was recommended by 
 one of the company to apply to Owenson, who is making up a company 
 to go to Kilkenny, one of the most important towns in Ireland. 
 Owenson* has played all the Irish characters in Daly's company for 
 many years past. I was introduced to him, and spoke Sir A. Absolute, 
 Jacob, and Lenitive. He was very well satisfied ; and said, if I was 
 going on the stage in that line, I might depend on a first situation in 
 his company. All the players here speak well of him, and would be 
 glad to go with him, and leave Daly. Those who have no articles have 
 not hesitated, some to join Moss, and others Owenson. Daly is hated 
 by all the performers, scarcely any of whom can get any money from 
 him. Owenson opens his theatre on Monday, 23rd. I expect to leave 
 Dublin on Friday next. Daly met me, and said, he had heard I was 
 going with Owenson ; and asked me if I would like to play " walking 
 gentlemen." I told him, by no means. It was his intention to 
 keep me in Dublin until I had spent all my money, and then have 
 oflPered me a small salary, and made me play " walking gentlemen," a 
 proposal which I must have accepted rather than starve. Cherry, the 
 comedian, is coming from York, and Wathen from London ; of course 
 there would have been no situation for me in that line. The company 
 here is very small and very bad ; Palmer, Clinch, Moss, and several 
 others having left it. Hargrave is a good actor, and his voice very 
 pleasant. He is the only man in tragedy that is decent now. Mrs. 
 
 * Owenson was the father of Lady Morgan. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 51 
 
 Kennedy is the ppncipal lady in comedy, and a Miss Champion* in 
 tragedy. Mrs. Hitchcock is a tolerably good actress in Mrs. Bland's 
 line. Her husband is much respected in the company ; but they all 
 look upon him as a tool of Daly. I have seen Daly play the Copper 
 Captain extremely well ; that and Walter are the only characters I 
 have yet seen him in. There are a vast number of places taken already 
 for Miss Farren's first, second, third, and fourth nights, but very few 
 for Holman and Mrs. Twisleton. As soon as you receive this, look at 
 the Irish paper, and at The World, and you will perhaps see me adver- 
 tised for Mrs. Wells's night. 
 
 I am, yours ever most affectionately, Chaeles Mathews. 
 
 To Mr. William Mathews. 
 
 Dublin, June 14tli, 1794. 
 
 Deae William, — I have been in this city nearly a fortnight, and 
 of course have had time enough to find out its beauties and deformities, 
 both of which are numberless. I cannot sufiiciently admire the 
 buildings. There is a university here — the only one in Ireland. There 
 are several hundred students, who dress in the same manner as those of 
 Cambridge and Oxford. It is a very superb building, and boasts some 
 very fine gardens, which are public. There are scarcely any public 
 amusements ; only one playhouse, and a place they call the Rotunda, 
 for concerts. The politicians, I think, are more numerous, and by far 
 more violent, than those in London. 
 
 Daly has treated me very meanly, having continually put me off with 
 promises of playing. Mrs. Wells's benefit is next Thursday, when I 
 expect to play Jacob Gawky and Lingo. I mean to leave Daly, and 
 go with a new company to Kilkenny. All give him a most dreadful 
 character, and I shall be glad to escape from him. 
 
 Let me know whether you went to the masquerade on the 5th 
 instant. The account of it in The Courier mentioned a master of 
 arts as a good mask. Was it you ? I am delighted with the walks 
 about Dublin. Adieu. 
 
 Yours most affectionately, Chaeles Mathews. 
 
 To Mr. John Litchfield, Jun» 
 
 Dublin, June 23rd, 1794. 
 Deae Litchfield, — I received yours last Thursday with a great 
 deal of pleasure. 
 
 On Thursday evening I made my first appearance, for Mrs. Wells's 
 benefit, in Jacob and Lingo. The house was tolerably well filled, and 
 I was received in a manner that exceeded my greatest expectations. 
 The scene in Jacob, where he mimics the minuet, was highlj'^ applauded ; 
 but Lingo gained me much more. I had an excellent dress, and my 
 
 * Afterwards the second wife of Pope the actor. 
 E 2 
 
S2 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 ■wig did a vast deal for me. The songs were very much approved of, 
 judging from the applause. The two last were encored : " Amo, amas" 
 was one, and " Of all the pretty flowers," the other. Each time I 
 came to the part of " To be sure I did !" I gained bursts of applause. 
 When I had sung it I made my exit, but it was loudly called for again. 
 I was somewhat fatigued, and told the performers to go on for the 
 next scene. Laura and Eugene went on, and were hissed off. I was, 
 of course, obliged to sing it, and gave veiy general satisfaction. The 
 musicians declared that the song was never so well sung in the theatre 
 before. I received numerous compliments, and was told that the part 
 liad not been so well performed since O'Reilly played it. I was dis- 
 tinctly heard in every part of the house, which is larger than the 
 Haymarket Theatre.* Baly sent for me on Friday, and declared him- 
 self very well content with my performance, and offered a guinea per 
 week. I was obliged to accept of it, as Owenson has been disappointed 
 of his theatre in Kilkenny, and cannot open it before August. Cherry 
 is coming here from York, and Wathen from Richmond. Though I 
 was so well received, I cannot expect to get all the capital low comedy 
 parts at first. Hitchcock behaves very well to me, and will ensure me 
 every farthing of my mone^^ I am to play second and third parts in 
 tragedy and genteel comedy, and occasionally parts in low comedy. I 
 
 * The criticism in the Dublin paper upon this performance fully corroborates 
 the foregoing account. 
 
 '' Theatre Royal, Dublin, June the 19th, 1794. 
 
 "Mrs. Wells's benefit was on Monday, the 19th of June, when 'The 
 Chapter of Accidents' and the * Agreeable Surprise' were performed t6 a very 
 elegant audience, f Independently of her unrivalled imitations, there was the 
 attraction of a new performer, of the name of Mathews, in the characters of 
 Jacob and Lingo. The introduction of a young actor in two such different 
 characters on the same night was rather singular, and the task to the per- 
 former indisputably very arduous. He went through them both, however, in 
 a very creditable style, and received the most flattering marks of approbation. 
 Jle assumed the Somersetshire dialect very happily, and discovered in the 
 course of the performance very extraordinary talents in low comedy. The 
 scene where GawTcy mimics the minuet was highly relished by the audience. 
 Flattering as was his reception in Jacob, his performance of Lingo was cer- 
 tainly superior, and met, if possible, with still louder applause. The songs of 
 * Amo, amas,' and ' Of all the pretty flowers, ' were sung with infinite humour, 
 and were universally encored. The turn of ' To be sure I did !' was neatly 
 managed, and gained him repeated applause. The two above-mentioned songs 
 were never so well given in this theatre, and the part, on the whole, has not 
 been so successfully played since 0'Reilly.+ Moss was very inferior. Mr. 
 Mathews's manner of playing is quite original, and he has tolerable freedom in 
 action. The turn of his features is irresistibly comic, and on the whole, we 
 may reckon him a very desirable acquisition to the Irish stage." 
 
 + Mrs. Wells, afterwards Mrs. Sumbel, was the original performer 
 Cowslip. 
 
 X A great comic genius, who died young. 
 
 r of I 
 
 1 
 
CHAELES MATHEWS. 53 
 
 am promised Mundy, in " The Farmer," when Wathen plays Jemmy 
 Jumps. They never give more than \l. \s. to a young actor. Most 
 of the salaries here are what they call " play-house pay ;" that is, pay- 
 ment only each night they play ; so that a man engaged at three pounds 
 a-week, it' he performs three times a week only, has only half of his 
 salary. I am to be paid if I play only once, and am not obliged to 
 take " a benefit." Daly deducts money for a benefit from all those who 
 are engaged at the play-house pay. I am therefore equally well situated 
 with those who have three pounds. Daly bears the worst of characters ; 
 but I have dependence on Hitchcock, who is much beloved, and has great 
 influence in the theatre- As manager, he disposes of all the characters. 
 Of course he will sometimes serve me. He treats me very well, and 
 invites me frequently to his house. I see my name now in the bills for 
 the first time : — " To-morrow evening, ' Lear ;' Albany, Mr. Mathews !" 
 It is a pretty part for its length, and each one I perform will make me 
 more used to the stage. Hitchcock has promised to let me play 
 Lenitive, if he can get up the piece. It has not been played since 
 Moss left them. They have lost their Label, Juba, and Caroline ; so 
 that its revival will be attended with some difficulty. Holman, it is 
 said, has arrived, but I have not yet seen him. He is advertised to 
 play in " Romeo and Juliet" on Wednesday ; Mrs. Twisleton* the 
 Juliet. Among their plays are, " Don Sebastian" (Holman, Dorax^ 
 Mrs. T., Almeyda) ; " Fontainville Forest," " Venice Preserved," and 
 *' Alexander." Miss Farrenf is expected every day. She will draw 
 very crowded houses, as the boxes for her nights are extremely well 
 taken. Holman and Mrs. T. are not expected to draw much. We 
 have played since I have been here — " He would be a Soldier ;" " Re- 
 cruiting Officer;" " Rule a Wife and have a Wife" (Hargrave, Leon — 
 very good acting ; Daly, Copper Captain ; JEstifania, Mrs. Kennedy 
 — both well); "Jane Shore" {Shore, Mrs. Wells; Alicia, Miss 
 Champion, — this actress, who has been the heroine at the private 
 theatre in Fishamble-street, played here two years back, and is a great 
 favourite) ; " Grecian Daughter ;" " Gamester ;" " Chapter of Accidents'" 
 {Jacob, moi-meme — of course I very well ! hem ! Bridget, Mrs. Wells) ; 
 " Wild Oats." " The Children in the Wood" is played extremely well. 
 The Children are superior to those in London. Hargrave is a very 
 improving actor ; Daly, good in genteel comedy ; Mrs. Kennedy, in 
 genteel comedy, a very good actress. Hurst, in Hull's line, admirable. 
 Cunningham, in " fops," is a very good actor ; I think he would succeed 
 very well in London in R. Palmer's place. He is a very genteel young 
 man, and a pleasant companion, and the only one in the company with 
 whom I associate. Miss Brett, a very good singer, and very pretty 
 actress in Mrs. Bland's line. Miss Farren's plays are ** Know your 
 own Mind ;" "Hypocrite ;" " School for Scandal;" " Belle's Stratagem ;" 
 <fcc. ; and the farce of " The Citizen." Hargrave is the only man, 
 except Hurst, who is decent in tragedy. They give him five pounds a- 
 week certain ; and he is very regularly paid. They are terribly at a 
 * The Hon. Mrs. Twisleton. f Afterwards Countess of Derby. 
 
54} THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 loss for tragedians ; and every man is obliged to play in them, whether 
 suited or not. " Fontainville Forest" is printed in Dublin — a very 
 paltry edition. When it is performed, Hargrave is to be the Mar" 
 guess; Hurst, Peter; Cunningham, Louis, and myself the Phantom. 
 I expected to have been Louis, but Cunningham was cast for it before 
 I came out. Boaden said he wished me to be the Ghost. Remember 
 me to him, and tell him of my success, and the cast of his tragedy. I 
 have dined with W. Palmer, to whom Cunningham introduced me. 
 He is very much like his brother Bob, and was a great favourite here. 
 He is married, and lives elegantly. He has six pounds per week ; 
 Moss, ten. I will thank you not to tell any one what salary I have 
 got, as you know people unacquainted with the stage will expect to 
 hear I receive much more, and if they hear this, they will perhaps 
 judge unfavourably of my reception. My salary is to be raised in the 
 winter. I mean to board with a family, as I cannot otherwise live on 
 the money I receive. The wardrobe and conduct of the theatre are 
 much better than I expected to find them. They dress their plays in 
 general very well. The Grecian Daughter was dressed entirely in 
 " shapes," all belonging to the theatre ; and the dress of Gloster in 
 "Jane Shore" was equally elegant with that worn by Harley* at 
 Covent Garden. I expected to be some distance hence before I could 
 receive another letter Irom you. It is, however, much better to be iu 
 Dublin than in the country parts of Ireland, where very little repu- 
 tation is to be gained. I thank you for your concern about my 
 "wiggery," which escaped the officer's " rude gripe," without discovery. 
 They only opened the tops of my trunk and portmanteau, but pro- 
 ceeded no farther. Adieu ! and be convinced of the unalterable af- 
 fection of yours, Chaeles Mathews, 
 
 of the Theatre Royal, Crow Street, Dublin. — Hem ! 
 
 In the foregoing letter it is impossible to read his comment 
 upon the merit of Albany, in " Lear," without a smile. " I see 
 my name in the bills for the first time — Albany, Mr. Mathews ! 
 It is a pretty part, for its length." (!) Let those who have 
 known Mr. Mathews in his high-day remember this character, 
 and amuse themselves at the idea of his representing it. 
 
 It is noticeable that his comments upon the performers 
 named are very judicious. Their merits, well known afterwards, 
 proved his judgment to be correct at that time. Mr. Hargrave 
 performed as a tragedian at Covent Garden Theatre in ISOdd or 
 1805, previously to his retirement from the stage. 
 
 To Mr. John Litchfield, Jun. 
 
 Dublin, July 20th, 1794. 
 Deae Litchfield, — " Fontainville Forest" has been played three 
 * Thfi tragedian. 
 
 ^ 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 55 
 
 times with very great success. I played the Phantom, and got great 
 applause. I had a very fine dress, and very like that which Follet 
 wears. The dresses in general were new, and the scenery also. Hoi- 
 man's dress was plain, but very handsome. Hargrave's, for the 
 Marquess, extremely splendid. Holman played some parts of La 
 Motte very finely ; and Hargrave did great justice to the Marquess, 
 The same points told each night, as in London, but particularly that 
 where La Motte tells the Marquess he buried Adeline " in a chest." 
 Each night it gained five or six peals of applause. Holman and Mrs. 
 Twisleton perform only three nights more. They have had but very 
 poor houses, in comparison with Miss Farren, who is entirely the 
 fashion. Cherry came out in Sir Peter Teazle and Lazarillo on. 
 Wednesday last. He is a very good actor, but extremely short, much 
 more so than Quick. Miss Farren has played eight nights, and has 
 ten more to come. Each night has been an overflow. There is some 
 talk of Kemble coming here. I want to hear how they go on at the 
 Haymarket, and of the alterations at Covent Garden. I see very few 
 English papers here, and know nothing of the London theatricals. Is 
 the anecdote of Palmer and the Prize case true.* 
 
 I am very pleasantly situated in a house, where I board and lodge. 
 I have a room to myself, and live extremely well for a half a guinea 
 per week. There are two other performers, both English people, who 
 board with me. The landlady of the house is a widow, and a very 
 pleasant woman. I can make my cash hold out very well, but am in 
 want of many stage properties, particularly for tragedy; buskins, 
 russet boots) Spanish hat, cocked hat, sword, ruff, &c. 
 
 Yours ever most affectionately, Chaeles Mathews. 
 
 _ Direct to Mrs. Byrn's, No. 24, Temple Bar, Dublin, 
 
 To Mr, JoJin Litchfield, Jun. 
 
 Dublin, August 3rd, 1794. 
 Dear Litchfield, — On opening your packet I found a letter from 
 my father, a few lines from my brother, and an introduction from 
 Boaden to Holman. 
 
 I am very much obliged to you for the satisfaction you express at my 
 success. My sentiments were exactly similar to your own. I was 
 very doubtful of the event, eager as 1 was to embrace so hazardous a 
 
 * This inquiry alludes to Mr. John Palmer, whose embarrassed circum- 
 stances caused him at this time to live in his dressing-room at Drury-Lane 
 Theatre ; and when the Haymarket re- opened for the summer season, at which 
 he was engaged, the fear of arrest suggested the expedient of conveying him 
 with a cart full of scenery, in one of the cabinets used in **The Prize j" and 
 in this manner he actually was removed from one theatre to the other. For- 
 merly a patent theatre was considered as a sort of theatrical Alsatia for money- 
 owing criminals — a sanctuary from "John Doe and Richard Roe." 
 
56 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OP 
 
 profession ; I was however much encouraged from my attempt in that 
 " hole"* which you mention, and thought myself extremely fortunate 
 in having the opportunity of performing Jacob, of which my friends in 
 London on that occasion were good enough to approve. The attempt 
 fully answered my wishes. Everything was superior here. I had room 
 on the stage, and every advantage of regularity, with the aid of per- 
 formers who understood what they were about, and were able to assist 
 me. I had also the advantage of being the only person who had played 
 the character for two seasons. But if these were my advantages in 
 Jacob, it was not so with Lingo, the recollection of Cornellies, who 
 was a great favourite, and the original in Lingo, being fresh in the 
 minds of the audience, and coming after Moss, who had played it 
 within a fortnight. These were powerful reasons to make me fear 
 success in that character. Thank heaven, however, I combated these ; 
 and, on my entrance the second time to perform it, I was saluted very 
 flatteringly. It is the custom here, in the galleries, previously to 
 applauding a performer on his entrance, to call for it. For instance, 
 when Cherry enters, the cry is instantly, " A clap for Cherry !" and if 
 any performer displeases them, a groan is called for. This has several 
 times happened when I have been on the stage in an inferior character 
 in tragedy. On such occasions they have called out " A clap for Lingo!" 
 which is very flattering, and frequently gives me that confidence which 
 I very much stand in need of. 
 
 I do not think myself at all ill-used by having only a guinea a- week. 
 A young performer cannot expect a large salary ; and the salaries here 
 are by no means great. However, I thank you for concealing the sum 
 from people whom you have told of my success. It is a general idea 
 with those who are unacquainted with the theatre, that the salaries are 
 much larger than they really are. I have not entered into any articles 
 with Daly, nor do I mean to do so. I should always wish to have it in 
 power to leave him if a superior situation offered. 
 
 I was much entertained by your account of the masquerade ; and 
 am much obliged to you for sending me the sham bill. On opening 
 one of the packets, this bill fell out in the green-room, where I opened 
 it. At first I was deceived, and thought fortune had been uncommonly 
 favourable, but was very soon undeceived. However, I did not tell the 
 people to the contrary, who all supposed I had received a bank bill. It 
 is a good thing to be imagined rich. Daly was in the green-room at 
 the time, which I was glad of. I really think that he does not deserve 
 so bad a character as he in general bears. He has behaved very well 
 to me, and takes great notice of me ; I have been paid ver;f regularly, 
 and have not been fined a farthing. 
 
 I left England without calling on Wayte, to whom I am indebted 
 for a ^e\N articles, among which are the dresses for the private play. I 
 shall be very much obliged to you if you will call on him to make an 
 apology for my neglect, and tell him I will remit the money as soon as 
 it is in my power. 
 
 * The private theatre, in a dirty street called " Short's Gardens." 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 57 
 
 My brother tells me that Boaden mentioned me in The Oracle. 
 Will you copy it for me, and send it with what he said of " Fontain- 
 ville Forest," in your next packet? This will save me Is. Id. Every- 
 thing helps on these occasions, and I must be frugal. 
 
 I very much feel the loss of my box of plays, which would be very 
 useful to me here ; but the expense of having them over would be too 
 great, and I cannot afford it. They are already packed up at home, 
 but I believe there are upwards of 2 cwt. 
 
 There are two people from this theatre engaged at Covent Garden — 
 Mr. and Mrs. Davenport. He is a very respectable performer in a 
 general line, but mostly " old men," and she is a very good actress in 
 Mrs. Webb's line.* She is also very serviceable to a theatre in second- 
 rate " genteel comedy" and tragedy. She played Madame La Motte 
 very well. — Believe me to be yours ever most affectionately^ 
 
 Charles Mathews. 
 
 24, Temple-row. 
 
 During the engagement of Miss Farren (afterwards Countess 
 of Derby) Mr. Mathews was obliged to play the part of Beau- 
 fort \n " The Citizen." Now, of all "walking gentlemen," as 
 such are technically called, Beaufort is the most dreaded by 
 young men ; being an insipid, sighing dangler, the character is 
 generally given to the most insignificant actor in the company, 
 if he be young enough to be "sent on" for a lover. Imagine, 
 then, a novice in this part, one whose intention to be a " low 
 comedian" was thwarted by the wily manager, whose agent had 
 in fact kidnapped him over, as cunningly as gipsies delude chil- 
 dren from their homes with sweet and fair promises, only to 
 break them as soon as they have their dupes in their power. 
 Daly was so well known by experienced people in the profession, 
 that he was fain to entice the young and unsuspicious, and 
 therefore sent one of his agents to England occasionally in order 
 to entrap those whom he might meet there, for a cast of cha- 
 racters he found it difficult to get filled. Mr. Hitchcock dis- 
 covered a young man who wished to play Lingo ; this, then, 
 was the bait with which he covered the hook, and with such 
 taking promises he flattered and led him on with hopes never 
 intended to be realized, tickling him like a trout, till he fell a 
 willing victim into the hands of his tempter. It is true, as he 
 has related, that he did play his stipulated part of Lingo, but it 
 was immediately followed up by Lamp, Albany, the Noble 
 County Baris, and such like dawdling worthies, and Beaufort — 
 the dreaded Beaufort. 
 
 * Mrs. Davenport, since the inimitable "Old Woman" of Covent Garden 
 Theatre, having succeeded Mrs. Webb in that line soon after this period. 
 
58 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 Imagine, then, a tall, thin, awkward youth, with a deportment 
 utterly unfit for a stage-gentleman of that starched day, with a 
 craving appetite for Old PhiJpot, which he in after years per- 
 formed so admirably, compelled to submit to be the butt, not 
 only of Maria, but of all the audience, in Beaufort. Miss 
 Farren, accustomed as she must have been to the worst sort of 
 acting in the part, probably never before saw a total novice 
 represent it ; and it was with dismay that she observed him 
 appear in the green-room dressed in a scarlet coat (the only one 
 provided by the theatre for the occasion) which had obviously 
 been made for a man a head shorter than himself, and whose 
 arms were in proportion with his stature, for the sleeves reached 
 only within an inch of the wrists of the present unfortunate 
 wearer ; a yellow embroidered waistcoat, a pair of black satins 
 scarcely covering the knee, and showing more of a leg guiltless 
 of calf than grace or fashion demanded ; his hair liberally 
 powdered and tied in a queue, according to the mode ; a chapeau 
 bras which he scarcely knew how to dispose of, and which now 
 and then in his embarrassment he was tempted to put upon his 
 head. Fancy Mr. Mathews in such a dress, and at the age of 
 seventeen, playing a puling, sentimental drawl of a lover to a 
 woman of elegant, easy figure and accomplished manners ! When 
 he came before the audience there was a general shout, as if a 
 clown in a pantomime had made his appearance, succeeded by an 
 almost simultaneous shriek from the gallery, and then the fol- 
 lowing delicate inuendoes : — " Oh ! see the mop-stick !" — " Ah ! 
 Pat, hould yer breath hard, or y'll puff him off the stage!" — 
 "Oh! and it's the only puff I'll give him, any how !"— " Oh I 
 the crethur ! what a slice of a man ! Arrah ! where's your other 
 half? Why didn't ye bring it with ye, jewel?" These and 
 such like pleasantries greeted his first appearance. When Maria 
 came on the stage to him, he being directed by the author to 
 look thoughtful and embarrassed, Miss Farren felt obliged (by 
 the same authority) to imitate the performer's peculiar action, 
 and then laugh in derision of it. Hereupon followed, from on 
 high, a dreadful noise, that might be supposed to resemble the 
 war-whoop of American Indians, in token of their approval of 
 the imitation. 
 
 At length, when the love-sick Beaufort made his exit, he was 
 followed by a universal Whoo ! ! ! After this had subsided, one 
 of his tormentors got up and proposed " a groan for the long 
 lobster, ^^ which was loudly and heartily accorded with due honours, 
 as far as the gallery was concerned, to the infinite amusement of 
 the rest of the audience. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 59 
 
 When the piece was over, Miss Farren went up to the young 
 actor behind the scenes, and apologized to him for having been 
 an unwilling accessory to the ridicule his unpractised manner 
 and appearance created, owing to the necessity she was under of 
 obeying the author's intention, and following up her own cha- 
 racter in the farce. She kindly expressed her concern at seeing 
 a young gentleman thrust into a part so obviously out of his line, 
 and which in itself was so contemptible as always more or less 
 to draw ridicule upon the actor. She added, that his inexperi- 
 ence, and the disgraceful dress the theatre had provided for him, 
 had of course rendered the result still more distressing. 
 
 These delicate alleviations soothed, but did not heal his 
 feelings ; he begged, almost in tears, that Mr. Daly would on a 
 future occasion give the character to a fitter representative. But 
 managers, as well as fathers, have " flinty hearts," and, moreover, 
 Daly could find no one else to take such a part, unless he paid a 
 long arrear of salary. Beaufort was not worth so high a price, 
 and therefore the part was assigned to a good-for-nothing actor, 
 as he was deemed who had last been ridiculed in the character, 
 and whom it was not the manager's intention to pay much 
 longer. The best apology that could in the first instance be 
 adduced for such an unprincipled determination was, that Mr. 
 Daly, in kidnapping a young man of respectable family and 
 friends, stage-struck as he was, believed that he possessed re- 
 sources independent of the paltry salary agreed upon, and there- 
 fore might afford to go on without pay after his first probation, 
 and from his own confessed dramatic ardour, not feel the injustice, 
 or at least not be inclined to question it. This at first he 
 might believe, but he was afterwards quite aware of the priva- 
 tions and difficulties his dishonourable treatment occasioned the 
 poor novice. 
 
 I have heard Mr. Mathews say, that he has gone to the 
 theatre at night without having tasted anything since a meagre 
 breakfast, determined to refuse to go on the stage unless some 
 portion of his arrears was first paid. When, however, he entered 
 the green-room, his spirits were so cheered by the attention of his 
 brethren, and the eclat he met with among them whenever he put 
 forth his powers of amusement, added to the gaiety of the scene 
 altogether, that his fainting resolution was restored, all his dis- 
 content utterly banished for the time, and he was again recon- 
 ciled to starvation — nay, he even felt afraid of offending the un- 
 feeling manager, and returned home silent upon the subject of his 
 claims. Then came in succession the London performers, Miss 
 
60 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 Farren, Kemble, Incledon, &c., some of whom he beheld for the 
 first time. Fancy a young enthusiast witnessmg and becoming 
 famihar with such talent in the profession he doted upon. Ht3 
 devoured their every look, he drank up every tone, he was enrapt 
 with their excellence, and gloried in the choice he had made. In 
 short, he was content to live on in the hope, remote as it 
 seemed, of being one day received by an audience with the same 
 enthusiasm with which they were received. Such a hope was 
 worth all present suffering, and suifer he did manfully. 
 
 Throughout his correspondence he made no positive admission, 
 after the first disappointment, of ill-usage from Daly — not even 
 to his most confidential friend did he complain of any subsequent 
 injustice. Not a hint of actual pecuniary distress was given to 
 Mr. Litchfield or any of his own family, nor of his consequent 
 privations. When he alludes to stoppages of salary from occa- 
 sional closing of the theatre, he touches so lightly upon the con- 
 sequences to himself, that his friend would hardly have been 
 justified in proff'ering assistance, which, after all, his pride, and a 
 determined constancy in suffering, would have rejected as uncalled- 
 for and unnecessary. 
 
 Among some detached and undated memoranda for his Life, I 
 have found the following account, in my husband's handwriting, 
 of an accident that befel him about this period, which I well re- 
 member his relating at various times. 
 
 " During Miss Farren's performance in Ireland, ' The Wonder' 
 was one of the plays announced. From one of those irregulari- 
 ties which were common, the performer of Lissardo was not forth- 
 coming, and I received commands from my superior officer to get 
 ready in the part, having only the few hours from rehearsal time 
 until evening to study it in. I therefore sallied forth to walk 
 and learn, preferring the open air and exercise to in-door fagging. 
 I crossed Limerick Bridge, and was strolling by the banks of the 
 Shannon, intent upon my book, when I met a brother actor — as 
 it turned out for me, most fortunately met him — occupied like 
 myself, in conning over his lesson. I asked him to read some of 
 the dialogue to me, that I might ascertain how much I had got 
 by heart. We then separated, mutually agreeing to assist each 
 other in this way in another half-hour or so. In the mean time, 
 the weather being sultry, I thought I would bathe. I accor- 
 dingly stripped for the purpose, and having frequently paddled 
 about near the same spot with impunity, I believed there. was no 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. , 61 
 
 part of the river where I could get out of my depth, for be it 
 known that I had nothin*^ but an ' alacrity in sinking' to qualify 
 me, as I never had a notion of swimming. With some confi- 
 dence in the solidity of the bottom, I walked and splashed until 
 I imagined I had reached the deepest part, when I was instan- 
 taneously overwhelmed with the horrors of drowning ! I felt the 
 sensation of slippins: down a precipice ! Cataracts, thunder, 
 lightning, seemed suddenly to environ me ! The agonizing sen- 
 sation of finding myself irrecoverably shut out in an instant from 
 all human aid ! a thousand racking thoughts of my distant 
 home ! my parents' distress ! succeeded each other with the most 
 frightful rapidity during the brief space of time that I was im- 
 potently struggling for recovery. But oh ! the ruling passion, 
 strong in death — dare I confess it ? My mind was occupied for 
 a brief second by conjecture who could act Lissardo that night 
 if I were drowned ! Then the worse than agony of renewed hope, 
 when for a brief second I beheld the fair face of day, the sunny, 
 cloudless sky, after my immersion below, for I rose twice, suffici- 
 ently above the surface to see distinctly my friendSeymour seated in 
 the meadow, intent upon his book. I made an impotent attempt 
 at a shout to him. I hoped I had articulated, but it must have 
 been a faint scream. Alas ! he saw me not. Again I sank ! 
 and can comprehend the ' catching at a straw,' for my sensa- 
 tions, which are now vividly before me, were those of perishing 
 in an unfinished building, where the beams of the floor were 
 above my head. I struggled to grasp them, with a wild and 
 frantic action, with my hands above my head ! Drowning has 
 been variously described, and is generally supposed to be a very 
 easy death. I have not experienced any other manner of dying 
 certainl}'-, but I cannot conceive any mode more painful. The 
 tremendous noise of the rushing waters in the ears, the frightful 
 flashing of light, as if surrounded by sparks from fireworks, the 
 sense of suffocation, and oh ! who can describe the sensations I 
 briefly felt upon my second bound from the bed of the river to 
 the surface ! Again I attempted a feeble cry ! Again I saw my 
 studious companion, and again 1 had the conviction that I was 
 unseen ! Every hope now fled, and I gradually lost all sensation 
 except that of struggling to reach the beams that floated in my 
 imagination. To the last, I was under the impression that by 
 desperate efforts I might grasp this apparent substance, and so 
 save myself. This is all 1 am capable of relating from my own 
 knowledge, for I was near death, most decidedly, before I was 
 providentially rescued. 
 
62 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 " It appeared from the evidence of my friend, that the ' beam 
 in my eye' was my latest vision, for he had jumped into the 
 river with his clothes on, to save me. He was an expert 
 swimmer, and made for the spot where he had last seen me rise, 
 when in almost despair of rescuing, or even finding me, he felt 
 his legs suddenly seized with violence, and he was dragged by 
 my dying struggles, feeble as they were, to the bottom. He 
 was a most accomplished swimmer and diver, or I should never 
 have related the tale. He contrived to get me on shore ! I 
 have no recollection of anything that occurred from my third 
 sinking until I saw a heterogeneous collection of human figures 
 and humorous countenances about me ; and was almost suffo- 
 cated afresh with the aroma of ' mountain dew.' I was carried, 
 much in the state in which I am to believe I came into the 
 world, by two soldiers, under the command of my preserver 
 Seymour, to the first public-house that presented itself; and 
 there they rubbed me down, and rubbed me in all directions ; 
 and I was recovered by the means prescribed by the humane 
 society — of whisky dealers. Curiosity brought numbers to 
 see what was on table ; and the jokes that were passed upon the 
 occasion were something like the following : — 
 
 " ' Let's luk at the face of him. Rub away, ye devils ! I've 
 seen the eyes of him opening. Don't trust the potteen near the 
 mouth of the cratur, or he'll leave you none for the rubbin'. 
 Pour a drop down to rouse the heart of him. Niver fear ! — keep 
 the sowl inside the body of him, and he's safe ! How did he get 
 in the sea itself?' — ' Sea! sure, it's the Shannon. There's no 
 sea there, you tief o' the world. Did he jump in ?' — ' Sure, he 
 went a svyimming, and had never learnt ?' — ' He had one lesson 
 only, I heard, and that was to teach him how to sink.' — ' By 
 my sowl, then, he was an apt scholar. What name's upon 
 him ? Has he a woman itself that owns him ? Sure, I heard 
 the Englisher red-coat say, he was one of Daly's divarters.^ 
 
 " The most zealous attendants of the Humane Society, how- 
 ever, might have here taken a lesson in adroitness in restoring 
 animation. Suffice it to say, their means were eff'ectual, and I 
 acted Lissardo with the accomplished Farren that night." 
 
 I 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 63 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Mr. Mathews and Miss Strong — His engagement to her, and his father's letter 
 to him on the subject — His marriage with Miss Strong — Increasing ambi- 
 
 , tion — Application to Tate Wilkinson, the York Patentee — Mr. Mathews's 
 visit to his family in London — His reception — Mr. Mathews's engagement 
 with Tate Wilkinson — His first interview — His debut — His apparent failure 
 and discouragement. 
 
 The next three years of Mr. Mathews' life presented nothing 
 worthy of special notice. His attention to his professional duties 
 was unremitting, and he gradually advanced in the favour of the 
 public and of those London " stars" who visited the Dublin and 
 Swansea theatres, at the latter of which the young actor pro- 
 cured a more profitable engagement in the year 1795. 
 
 In the summer of 1797 Mr. Mathews met, at the house of a 
 mutual friend, a young lady about his own age, of very prepos- 
 sessing manners and of superior mind. It was said that the 
 " gods had made her poetical," and that she was otherwise a 
 person of elegant attainments. These young people became very 
 intimate ; and, though friendship in such cases is not believed in 
 by people of experience, I have been assured by both of the 
 parties in question, that their acquaintance began and continued 
 upon that basis alone, for some time. One day, however, the 
 young man, in a tete-h-tete with the interesting orphan (for such 
 she was), in a pensive mood, was drawn into a hearing of her 
 history. She was the daughter of a physician. Dr. Strong, of 
 Exeter, who, by a concurrence of wayward events, became em- 
 barrassed, and died almost penniless, leaving his only child upon 
 the compassion of friends. She, however, was too proud to lead 
 a life of dependence, and settled herself in a school, instructing a 
 limited number of young ladies from the stores acquired by her 
 education, laid up by her parents as resources for her own hap- 
 piness in the position in society she was originally intended to 
 take. With this best dowry that a child can boast of, she was 
 enabled to obtain some of the comforts which it was at first 
 hoped she might enjoy, without applying her mental gains for 
 
64 THE LIFE AND COEKESPONDENCE OF 
 
 their purchase; and at this period she was labouring in her vo- 
 cation, and highly esteemed by all who knew her. The story 
 of her helpless youth and her honourable struggles, which allowed 
 her a bare support, made an impression upon the somewhat ro- 
 mantic youth. He was not in any degree heart-touched ; but 
 pity is confessedly akin to love, if not nearly related. He had 
 merely called upon Miss Strong for an hour's lounge on a day 
 of non-rehearsal, without more intention or expectation than 
 civilit}'- and kindness created ; but, after an hour's stay, he left 
 her presence as her affianced husband ! As he walked towards 
 his lodging, he asked himself what could have induced the 
 offer he had made to this amiable girl? — and he found no 
 answer in his heart. He was neither "in love," nor "pleased 
 with ruin ;" and yet he had plunged into the one without any 
 of the sweet inducements of the other ! Well, what was done 
 could not be undone. He had listened to her woes, and ad- 
 mired her character ; and, in the enthusiasm of youth and the 
 moment, he had offered to protect the young creature against 
 further toil and care. He had settled to marry a person without 
 sixpence, and undertaken to provide for her upon the splendid 
 expectancy of — twelve shillings per week ! and this without what 
 is called being in love ! 
 
 That his intended wife was at that period deeply attached to 
 him, every moment of her after-life indisputably evinced ; and it 
 is no mean praise of her husband, under the circumstances of 
 their union, that he not only never divulged the delicate secret 
 of his having inconsiderately and inadvertently made her the 
 offer of his hand, but throughout her married life he treated her 
 with every kindness and attention. Nor do I believe that, ex- 
 cept to his second wife (whom he really loved), he ever com- 
 mitted the truth of his dispassionate feelings towards his devoted 
 Eliza. 
 
 It will be seen, b}'- the following sensible letter from his ex- 
 cellent father, that the bridegroom elect had written for that 
 permission, which he felt to be a necessary form and preliminary 
 to a determined act. 
 
 To Mr. Charles Mathetos. 
 
 London, Sept. 11th, 1797. 
 Deae Charles, — I received yours of the 5th instant, which brought 
 strange news unto my ears. You introduce a subject in yoMV letter 
 which rather surprised me, although you seem to think it would give 
 me pleasure. 
 
 It will always give me pleasure to hear that you are doing well ; but 
 
CHAELES MATHEWS. 65 
 
 I cannot think that even success in your present pursuit is doing well ; 
 as I am convinced it will eventually turn out for evil, independently of 
 the disgrace that attaches to your character while you continue in so 
 disgraceful an employ. You say that, with my concurrence and appro- 
 bation, you are going to be married ; and so you would, I suppose, 
 whether I approved of it or not. You say that the lady has been 
 introduced to me in a distant way — distant, indeed ! I suppose with 
 an express design to give me some intimation of her mental qualifi- 
 cation, and to prove that her mind as well as her name was Strong, you 
 have presented me with the figurability of her mind, and left me to 
 guess at that of her body, which I suppose to be but small of stature 
 by your own description of her, when you say, " But the dear little 
 girl," &c. But I am satisfied though she be little, if that little be but 
 good. 
 
 You have given me no account of her age, situation, or manner of 
 life, or by what means she has hitherto subsisted. How can I form a 
 just decision in my mind, so as to give you advice, or grant my con- 
 currence in an affair of such great importance as a cast for the life of 
 one of the parties, without any premises to decide on? Has Miss 
 Strong any probability, either by fortune or talents, of maintaining you ? 
 If she has not, what must be her conception of your being able to 
 maintain her ? Is your present income able to do it ? or, have you any 
 better prospects in life, to enable you to support her with honour and 
 decency in future? I hate all Smithfield bargains in matrimonial 
 contracts, and always esteem love-matches as the best when entered 
 into with " real discretion ;" but " wisdom ought to dwell with pru- 
 dence." If Miss Strong has no better prospect than to live and starve 
 with you upon your present income, it plainly proves to me that her 
 passion for your person, or the endowments of your mind, is very far 
 stronger than the strength of her mind, and has overpowered her 
 understanding in the present instance ; and your love to her person, 
 and particularly to her mental endowments, has shot beyond the mark, 
 and will rather degenerate into a cruelty towards her, if you are not 
 capable at present, or in prospect, of making provision for her future 
 comfort. 
 
 The essential ingredient in the marriage state to render the parties 
 happy is mutual affection ; where that is wanting, all is discord ; but 
 that, abstractedly considered, will not feed the body, clothe the back, 
 or provide for the exigencies of an increasing family. Therefore, look 
 before you leap, lest you leap into ruin, and involve the object of your 
 delight in ruin with you, which I should be sorry to be the case with 
 dear Miss Strong, whom I esteem, although a stranger to her, because 
 you seem to esteem her upon valuable grounds. 
 
 I do not know enough of Miss Strong to put my negative to your 
 union with her, whether it would be decisive or not ; or to give my 
 consent, from any conviction that she possesses known virtues and 
 talents to qualify her to make you a good, industrious, or an economical 
 wife. Therefore both myself and your mother are at a loss to know 
 
 r 
 
6$ THE LIFj: AND COERESPONDENCE OF 
 
 how to act consistently with our duty and love to you, in regard to a 
 question of such importance, and to give our decision upon a case which 
 we have only a prejudiced witness to testify of the party who is the 
 beloved object of his wishes. I must own frankly, that had Miss 
 Strong been one of your company, I should have shuddered at the idea 
 of your union with such a person ; but, as to all that appears con- 
 cerning Miss Strong, your mother agrees with me that, upon mature 
 deliberation between you, as your love is reciprocal, if you care for each 
 other's welfare, enter int6 this union, so as not to involve yourselves in 
 disgrace, and us in trouble ; you, being of age to judge for yourselves, 
 have our consent; and God grant you his blessing, and much real 
 happiness ! But, let me remind you both, that, while I wish God's 
 blessing on you in the rich provision of his hand, and social happiness 
 with each other, you cannot be really or eventually happy without you 
 are found walking in his fear, and devoted to his service ; and this, I 
 think, my dear Charles, you are far from doing in your present 
 situation. Your mother, sister, brother, and Mrs. Maitland, whom I 
 saw yesterday, with all your other friends, &c., join in best wishes to 
 you and Miss Strong. 
 
 I am, dear Charles, yours affectionately, James Mathews. 
 
 P.S. — Pray write to me soon about all particulars. William wrote 
 to you last week. 
 
 In eight days after the date of the foregoing letter, the extract 
 from the parish register now before me declares, that " Charles 
 Mathews and Eliza Kirkham Strong were married by ' bans' on 
 the 19th day of September, in the year one thousand seven hun- 
 dred and ninety-seven, in the presence of John Wynne and Evan 
 Francis, at Swansea;" and it may be hoped that the young 
 husband found the society of his bride so sufficient, as to super- 
 sede for several months any communion of soul with distant 
 friends ; for, till the time that his ambition stirred him to re- 
 move to " new climes," all correspondence appears to have ceased 
 with his friend Mr. Litchfield. 
 
 Human desires are ever onward, 
 
 " Man never is, but always to he blessed." 
 
 Mr. Mathews, it is true, was possessed of all the fame that a 
 Welch circuit had to bestow upon a favourite comedian, and 
 all that esteem in private which attends upon an honest man 
 in every part of the world. But he had married, and his dowser- 
 less wife was a daily though " sweet remembrancer" that some 
 addition to his income was urgently necessary to make up the 
 sum of content and comfort. His salary did not exceed twelve 
 shillings per week ! but then he had benefits, great ones too, 
 for the Lilliputian scheme he was engaged in ; but all, alas ! 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 67 
 
 incompetent to that worldly ease which his active exertions and 
 irreproachable habits seemed to deserve. 
 
 He had heard that a Mr. Emery, the principal comedian of 
 the York company for some years past, was on the point of de- 
 parture to London, and he immediately applied for his situation 
 in a letter to Tate Wilkinson, which promptly produced the fol- 
 lowing characteristic reply from that eccentric veteran. 
 
 Hull, Januaiy 3rd, 1798. 
 
 SiE, — Mr. Emery does not leave me until the end of October. Now 
 you are an entire stranger to me, therefore it would be madness to 
 engage a young man, with a double-loaded company (as I really at 
 present have), of whose abilities I am entirely ignorant. On the other 
 hand, it would be madness for you next summer to come to Leeds on 
 trial, at so heavy an expense. If you were near me, it would be prac- 
 ticable. What I want as Sneak, Oatland, Tom, &c., must be of great 
 promise. Do you sing ? for that is a great help in Hodge, &c. 
 
 I am, sir, yours, &c. Tate Wilkinson. 
 
 Mr. Mathews, Theatre, Carmarthen. 
 
 After Mr. Mathews had determined to take his leave of his 
 Welsh friends (and but that " honour pricked him on," it would 
 have been, nay, was a very painful effort), he was naturally 
 desirous, between the parting from one dramatic sovereign and 
 swearing allegiance to another, to employ the interval in a visit 
 to his family ; to whom also he was anxious to present his 
 amiable and clever wife. The young couple, therefore, reached 
 the paternal home — once so gloomy to Mr. Mathews — with 
 feelings on his part which left no room for any other remem- 
 brance than the real affection he retained for his relations; 
 while his father and mother, with as much good taste as good- 
 ness of heart, received their disobedient son in the true spirit of 
 Christian forgiveness. It might have been supposed by the total 
 oblivion of the past, which seemed to have been tacitly deter- 
 mined on, that he had been invited home by one of those ad- 
 vertisements in which disconsolate parents promise, on the re- 
 turn of the fugitive, that no questions shall be asked ; or, like 
 one I once read in a country paper, which held out to a runaway 
 spoiled boy the inducement, from his fond mother, that " if 
 Richard would come back again, he should be allowed to sweeten 
 his own tea, and not be put upon by his younger sister any 
 longer." 
 
 Welcomed to London once more by his affectionate family^ 
 he had also the happiness of enjoying the society of his youthful 
 friends — his earliest and dearest, Mr. John Litchfield, his first 
 
 r2 
 
"68 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 playmate in public, as well as in private. This gentleman's 
 judgment he considered almost infallible ; and he gave up to him 
 his whole budget of mimic acquirements, which drew forth praise, 
 and augury of future excellence, from the evidences given of pre- 
 sent improvement. This opinion was a support to him in sub- 
 sequent difficulties and drawbacks in his profession, and pointed 
 out to him the road to future fame. Mr. Litchfield had also, 
 like himself, married a young lady of great talents and engaging 
 jnanners.* 
 
 With these friends the enthusiastic young couple visited all 
 the theatres ; and their pious parents " asked no questions." 
 His father saw that his son was un vitiated by the walk he had 
 chosen. He found him respected by all his former friends ; and 
 those of his new line, who called at the house, were evidently 
 gentlemen, though actors ; and, finding in his son every good 
 quality unimpaired (except that of bookselling), he smiled with 
 approbation upon him, perfectly satisfied " that nothing ill could 
 dwell in such a temple." His wife, too, was a favourite with 
 them, for they soon discovered a religious bent in her ; and more- 
 over rejoiced that, however poor, she had not been selected from 
 that dreaded profession in which their son had enrolled him- 
 self; a man might escape its contamination — a woman could 
 not ; so they had been told, and so they believed. 
 
 During this visit the dear kind people carefully excluded their 
 more serious visitors, and no family could be happier. Mr. 
 Mathews would even listen to " Charles's" songs and mimicry 
 with complacency, nay, even with enjoyment ; and Mrs. 
 Mathews would give loose to a merriment she had before no 
 idea she was capable of feeling. In short, when the time for 
 separation arrived, it was as painful, though less bitter, to all 
 parties, as it had been when, on the former occasion, the youth 
 had resisted a father's will, and "rushed upon his fate." 
 
 The following letter (a little out of place here) had fixed his 
 engagement with Tate Wilkinson ; and, at the appointed time, 
 the young couple took their departure for Yorkshire. 
 
 May 20th, 1798. 
 
 SiE, — Don't let either of us place too great a reliance. I will engage 
 you at 11. per week, until the first Saturday in June, 1799. But, to 
 promise an increase of salary, and a certain line of business, where I 
 
 * Mrs. Litchfield will be remembered as celebrated both in tragedy and 
 comedy. She was some years a favourite and first-rate actress at Covent 
 (Jarden, until her premature retirement from the profession she so ornamented, 
 .and which has since much missed her. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 69-' 
 
 have much at stake, would not be prudent on my part to give. There- 
 fore, as to an additional salary, or a cast of parts — unseen, unknown — 
 I cannot think of giving any such promise, as I must cast the parts as 
 I judge. A Mr. Penson is going as well as Mr. Emery, and Mr. 
 Penson possesses a very extensive comedy cast; so I must, with such, 
 an opening, try for the best. You may have great talents — moderate, 
 or indifferent — all which must be judged by the manager and the 
 public. Therefore, all the favour I have to ask is, whether you de- 
 termine on being at York August the 18th, Don't neglect your 
 interest ; but don't let me rely on your coming, and then not make 
 your appearance : may be disagreeable not only at the time, but as to 
 other engagements. Mr. Penson leaves me in August. 
 I am. Sir, wishing you every success, yours, &c. 
 
 Tate Wilkinson. 
 
 If you possess near the merit you lead me to expect, you must not 
 fear a good engagement here, there, or anywhere. You are sure I 
 wish you to please. No managers part with favourite performers, but 
 he must wish the new ones to succeed. 
 
 Me. Mathews, Jun. 
 
 Mb. Mathews, Bookseller, 
 No. 18, Strand, 
 
 London. 
 
 With new ardour, animated and strengthened by his present 
 hopes, and reliances justified in some measure by the success of 
 the last two years, this nevertheless undisciplined recruit entered 
 somewhat rashly the front rank of the greatest dramatic general 
 of England's provinces — the pupil of Eoote — the personal friend 
 of Garrick — and himself once a celebrated London actor. To 
 be allowed admission was something ; but to be pronounced, 
 when there, able and worthy to maintain a prominent position 
 in Tate Wilkinson's company was, all knew, a rapid step to 
 advancement and promotion to the very summit of an actor's 
 ambition ; a London engagement making always the bright 
 perspective in the view of a York favourite. That theatre was, 
 in fact, considered a nursery and preparatory school for metro- 
 politan performers at this period ; and was, as it gave frequent 
 proof, the very best (Bath excepted) that could be desired for, 
 the development of incipient genius, and the maturity of rising 
 talent.* 
 
 * The York and Bath theatres claim the thanks of the play-loving public 
 for having prepared and supplied some of the best performers that ever trod 
 the Loudon boards. In justification of this assertion I need only mention,, 
 with reference to York, out of many, the names of Siddons, Jordan, Kemble, 
 Cooke, Emery, and Fawcett, to show that it has '• done the state some 
 service." 
 
70 THE LIFK AND COERESPONDENCE OF 
 
 Early in August the young and sanguine comedian reached 
 Pontefract, where the York company were " located" for a time, 
 carrying with him all his worldly possessions — namely, a small 
 trunk containing his scanty wardrobe, about eight or ten comical 
 wigs of various pretensions — a wife, and a stock of yet unsub- 
 dued animal spirits, promising better support to the young 
 couple than the vast salary of twenty shillings per week — 
 the extent of his expectations, even with the most brilliant 
 success. But his partner loved him, and saw only the cheerful 
 side of the question ; and feeling how much he deserved, she 
 could not doubt that his merits would be justly appreciated. 
 Mrs. Mathews, however, had a mental reserve when she ex- 
 pressed her conviction that they would "do very well" upon 
 her husband's income. She was a candidate for literary gains, 
 and relied upon her power to make many additions to their 
 comforts by the sweet labour of her pen ; but she was timid, 
 and would not whisper her plans until they were ripe for exe- 
 cution; so that her speculations were confined to her own 
 bosom, and her husband was kept in ignorance of the mine of 
 wealth in store for him when he least expected it. 
 
 In the mean time it was necessary, as his first duty, to present 
 himself to his future master : accordingly, having spruced him- 
 self up in his other suit, he proceeded with a palpitating heart 
 to the manager's house. After sending up his name, he was 
 desired by the servant to walk up stairs, and in the shortest 
 time possible found himself alone upon the first landing-place, 
 with a choice of two doors. At a venture he tapped gently at 
 the first, and he was immediately satisfied that it was the right 
 one, for a drear yet authoritative voice bawled out, " Come in !" 
 This command was reiterated with an increased force before the 
 palpitating heart of the person for whom it was meant would 
 permit him to turn the lock. He thought of his interview 
 with Macklin the terrible, and almost trembled as he entered. 
 He had in some measure been prepared for something extra- 
 ordinary in Tate's manner, by his own letters, and had en- 
 deavoured to make himself familiar with his character, by a careful 
 perusal of "The Wandering Patentee," as this eccentric i)erson 
 styled himself in that entertaining work. The awe, however, 
 felt by the aspirant at the ideal of his first meeting with this 
 celebrated man, and henceforth master of his fate, was in some 
 measure relieved, if not removed, by his first glimpse of the 
 figure before him, and its undignified occupation ; neither of 
 which realized any of Mr. Mathews's anticipations of the dignity 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 71 
 
 of the old-school gentleman, or his preconceived notions of his 
 consequence and superiority, and something approaching to 
 self-possession was restored to him. 
 
 " Come in !" The young man obeyed. Tate was shuffling 
 about the room with a small ivory-handled brush in one hand, 
 and a silver buckle in the other, in pretended industry, whistling 
 during his employment after the fashion of a groom while 
 currying and rubbing down a horse.* It was a minute at least 
 before Tate took the least notice of the new-comer, who in the 
 short interval had opportunity to observe the ludicrous effect of 
 Tate's appearance, which was indeed irresistibly droll. He was 
 still in his morning's dishabille, which did not consist of the 
 usual undress of men of his standing, who generally indulged in 
 a copious rohe de chamhre, easy slippers, and the Dil worth cap, 
 to relieve the formality and confinement of a wig. Tate's early 
 dress did not differ from the later one in which he appeared 
 after the busy part of his day was finished. But " he wore his 
 rue with a difference," that is, at this period, his coat collar was 
 thrown back upon his shoulders, and his Brown George (a wig, 
 so called in compliment, I believe, to King George the Third, 
 who set the fashion) on one side, exposing the ear on the other, 
 and cocked up behind so as to leave the bare nape of his neck 
 open to observation. His hat was put on side foremost, and as 
 forward and awry as his wig. Both were perked on his head very 
 insecurely, as it seemed to the observer. He presented alto- 
 gether what might be called an uncomfortable appearance, and 
 which to those who were in the habit of seeing him at other 
 times, might be supposed to be contrived as a striking contrast 
 to his precise and smug effect after he had made his toilette, 
 when he was particularly neat. 
 
 When the young actor entered, he caught the back view of 
 this strange figure, which made no movement either of courtesy 
 or curiosity. Mr. Mathews, after an unsuccessful cough, and a 
 few significant hems, which seemed to solicit welcome and atten- 
 tion, ventured at last upon an audible " Good morning, sir." 
 This had its effect, and the following colloquy ensued. " Good 
 morning, sir," said Mr. Mathews. — " Oh ! good morning, Mr. 
 Meadoii's,'^ replied Tate, very doggedly. — "My name is Mathews, 
 
 * It appeared that it was his custom daily to polish his own buckles, for as 
 these particular buckles (small silver shoe-buckles) were especial favourites, 
 from having been the gift of his friend the immortal Garrick, and were worn 
 constantly in his dress shoes, he was chary of allowing others the privilege of 
 touching them ; in fact, he never trusted them out of his own hands. 
 
72 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 sir." — " Ay, I know," wheeling suddenly round, and looking at, 
 him for the first time with scrutinizing earnestness from head to 
 foot. Winking his eyes and lifting his brows rapidly up and 
 down, a habit with him when not pleased, he uttered a long- 
 drawn "U — gh!" and exclaimed, "What a Maypole! — Sir, 
 you're too tall for low comedy." — "I'm sorry, sir," said the 
 poor disconcerted youth. But Tate did not seem to hear him, 
 for, dropping his eyes and resuming the brushing of his buckles, 
 he continued, as if in soliloquy : " But I don't know why a tall 
 man shouldn't be a very comical fellow." Then again turning 
 sharply for a reinvestigation of the slender figure before him, he 
 added, with gathering discontent, " You're too thin, sir, for 
 anything but the Apothecary in ' Romeo and Juliet ;' and you 
 would want stuffing for that." — " I am very sorry, sir," rejoined 
 the mortified actor, who was immediately interrupted by the 
 growing distaste and manifest ill humour of the disappointed 
 manager. 
 
 " What's the use of being sorry ? You speak too quick.'* 
 The accused anxiously assured him that he would endeavour to 
 mend that habit. " What," said Tate, snappishly, " by speaking 
 quicker, I suppose." Then, looking at Mr. Mathews, he, as if 
 again in soliloquy, added, " I never saw anybody so thin to be 
 alive ! ! Why, sir, one hiss would blow you off the stage." 
 This remark sounding more like good humour than anything he 
 had uttered, the comedian ventured, with a faint smile, to 
 observe that he hoped he should not get that one — when Tate, 
 with aff'ected or real anger, replied, " You'll get a great many, 
 sir. Why, sir, I've been hissed — the great Mr. Garrick has 
 been hissed; it's not very modest in you to expect to escape, 
 Mr. Mountain." — " Mathews, sir," interposed the miscalled. — ^ 
 
 " Well, Matthew Mountain:'—'' No, sir "— " Have you a 
 
 quick study, Mr. Maddox ?" asked Tate, interrupting him once 
 more. Mathews gave up the ineffectual attempt to preserve his 
 proper name, and replied at once to the last question, " I hope 
 so, sir." — " Why" (in a voice of thunder), " arn't you sure ?'* 
 — " Ye-e-es, sir," asserted his terrified and harassed victim. Tate 
 shuffled up and down the room, whistling and brushing rapidly, 
 looking from time to time with evident dissatisfaction, if not 
 disgust, at the object of his scrutiny ; and, after several of these 
 furtive glances, he suddenly desisted from his occupation, and 
 once more stopped abruptly before him. 
 
 It must be understood that, in Tate's first surprise, he had 
 neglected to offer his visitor a seat ; therefore Mr. Mathews had 
 
CHARLES aLA.THEWS. 73 
 
 remained standing near the door, relieving his weariness, after a, 
 long journey, by alternately shifting his position, like a pupil 
 taking his first lesson from a dancing-master ; and leaning some- 
 times upon one foot and then upon the other, in awkward em- 
 barrassment. Tate, as I have observed, stopped and inquired if 
 he was a single man ? Of course he replied in the negative. 
 "I'm sorry for it, Mr. Montague ; a wife's a dead weight without 
 a salary, and I don't choose my actors to run in debt." — " I 
 hope you will have no cause to complain of me in that respect, 
 sir." Tate was again busy with his buckle ; an obstinate 
 tarnish, " a damned spot," called for his most vehement exertion ; 
 yet he spared a look or two at his visitor's face. At last he 
 seemed to have collected all his moral force, and, after another 
 pause, he demanded, " Pray, when did you have that paralytic 
 stroke, Mr. Maddox ?" — " I — I never had one at all, sir," said 
 the now completely mortified youth, with difficulty restraining the 
 tears which were making their way to his eyes ; when Tate, giving 
 him another earnest look, and as if unconsciously drawing his 
 own mouth awry in imitation of the one which had suggested the 
 last question, answered dryly and significantly, in Mr. Mathew's 
 tone of voice, as he turned away, " Oh ! I thought you had !" 
 
 All this was inauspicious ; and, after the interview had lasted 
 a few minutes longer, Tate strongly recommending the young 
 man's return to his father, and an " honest trade," as he said, 
 all that could be gained by Mr. Mathews was the manager's 
 slow leave to let him enter upon his probation, and at least have 
 a trial before final condemnation. Thus dispirited, he returned 
 to his anxious wife, with the saddest impressions and anticipa- 
 tions. However, after a few days, his morning observations of 
 the play-bills were cheered by the sight of his own name — really 
 his name. Mr. Mathews, from the Theatre Royal, Dublin (for 
 Tate would not own a " man from the mountains"), was an- 
 nounced to appear in the character of ^ilky in " The Road to 
 Ruin," and Lingo in "The Agreeable Surprise." 
 
 Mr. Mathews's first appearance was unattended with any of 
 that "pomp and circumstance" usually so inspiriting to the 
 debutant. Nothing before or behind the curtain marked him as 
 being an object of importance ; besides, the town was one of no 
 consequence, and could neither make nor mar the reputation of 
 an actor — not even critical. Tate called it the Montpellier of 
 Yorkshire, and I believe the air of the place, and other local 
 prejudices unconnected with his managerial interest, induced 
 his annual remove to Pomfret with his company ; so that no 
 
74 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 sensation was created for or against the new performer. If any 
 feeling was produced by his appearance, it was probably to his 
 disadvantage, their established favourite, Emery, having satisfied 
 them that no other actor could exceed, few equal him ; and pro- 
 bably the recollection of their brightest star rendered that of 
 the night dim in comparison. His self-possession, too, shaken 
 as it was by Tate's evident mean opinion of his talents, and 
 predisposition, as it seemed, to crush his efforts, possibly and 
 naturally affected his exertions, and made them flat. In short, 
 he retired from the scene of his first public trial without any 
 definite impression of whether he had succeeded or not. Tate 
 shunned him, the actors silently pitied him, but none praised 
 him ; and in a few nights after he was to be seen performing 
 Kenrick, an old sentimental Irishman, in " The Heir at Law," 
 and an interesting bespangled page in a serious ballet — the 
 gentle Theodore, in " Kaymond and Agnes !" 
 
 There can be but little doubt that Mr. Mathews's first appear- 
 ance under the auspices of Tate Wilkinson was a grievous disap- 
 pointment both to the manager and the youthful aspirant. The 
 characters assigned to him grew more and more insignificant, 
 and his downfall culminated in the engagement of a Mr. Hatton, 
 a man of little genius but of thorough acquaintance with the 
 usages of the stage, who, after Mr. Emery's departure for 
 London, was sent for to fill those parts to which Mr. Mathews 
 had aspired. 
 
 Wearied out at length by these accumulated causes, he ad- 
 dressed a letter of remonstrance to "the manager" (as Tate was 
 called, jpar excellence), who was at the time "ill at ease," and 
 would " admit no visitors." This produced the following reply, 
 which may be deemed a fair specimen of the critic's temper 
 towards the person addressed, remaining at the same time as a 
 warning instance of prejudiced opinion and perverted judgment. 
 It must be considered a rarity of its kind, and was preserved by 
 Mr. Mathews ever after with the most guarded care. 
 
 To Mr. Mathews. 
 
 I am dangerously ill, therefore unable to attend to theatrical grie- 
 vances. After a 2** and a 3*^ time seeing y' performance, I aver'd, and 
 do aver, that Misfortune has placed an insurmountable bar as to the 
 possibility of y' ever being capable of sustaining the first line of comic 
 business. Mr. Emery I requested to inform you of the same at 
 Wakefield, who was entirely of my opinion. For the paralytic stroke,* 
 
 * It appears that the writer's impression on his first interview with Mr. 
 Mathews, that the irregularity of his features was occasioned by a paralytic- 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 75 
 
 so far from a comic effect, renders y' performance seriously disa- 
 greeable. I told Mr. Hill* that not all the Mirrors in the kingdom, 
 in print or in glass, ever can establish you lor a first comedian. It* 
 God wills it, it will be so, but no other order or interest can effect such 
 a miracle. If you were to hear how you are spoken of (ask Mr. 
 Jarmanf), you would not rely too much on y' unbounded applause at 
 Hull. If you hadask'd at Wakefield if you were to play the characters 
 you mention, Mr. Jarman would readily have told you, No. If you 
 think the company is in general approv'd, you are mistaken ; am sorry 
 to be told, quite the contrary. Y' Randy is very bad indeed ; so is 
 Motley. Jkundy they have been used to see really well acted. As to 
 Jabal for Mr. Hatton, it was his first request which 1 granted, as Mr. 
 Jarman can testify. Do you think I engaged Mr. Hatton to hurt you ? 
 On m}' honour, no. If you say, why add to my expense ? I answ% 
 necessity, and full conviction stared me in the face. Try by degrees to 
 be useful, and by such means get into respect. Y' worth as a man (as 
 far as I know) I much esteem; but as a first-rate actor, you must try 
 some more discerning leader, and officer some other troop. I think 
 " Feeble Old Men" is a cast you are most likely to be useful in. The 
 pain I have suffered at my breast in scratching these lines is more 
 piercing than what you feel at the loss of Frank. You have youth, 
 sobriety, and assiduity, which sometimes does wonders. Wish Emery 
 had been more open with you. I recommended the shop, as suited to 
 you and Mrs. M. ; but he said you were so stage-bitten it would only 
 vex you. I can only say, Stay and be happy, or Go and be happy ; and 
 ever be happy j and wishing myself better, am y" in great pain, 
 
 Tate Wilkinson. 
 
 Notwithstanding this letter, poor Mr. Mathews remained 
 submissive to his fate, which he may truly be said to have thus 
 ultimately conquered ; for before the close of that year he saw 
 the departure of his rivals, and found himself in possession of 
 all the parts so long withheld from him. He was ever ready to 
 come forward and undertake anything necessary to the manager's 
 interest; his study was miraculous, and he could always be 
 depended upon ; his principle, in all he did, to be just to his 
 employer and fair to his brethren, gradually made his way. By 
 degrees he acquired confidence from trust, and his powers 
 became more and more apparent ; so that, in the autumn of this 
 year, on my arrival in Hull, I found him the principal comedian 
 of the company, and a prodigious favourite with his audience 
 and the manager. I had not, to be sure, much judgment, or the 
 
 attack, had not been removed, although Mr. Mathews at the time denied that 
 he had ever been visited by such a misfortune. 
 
 * Mr. Hill was the proprietor of " The Monthly Mirror," the magazine 
 mentioned by Mr. Mathews as having praised his acting. 
 
 t Mr. Jarman was the prompter of the theatre. 
 
76 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 least experience in dramatic excellence, but I can remembei*! 
 thinking him " a very funny young man," though, as Tate said, 
 the " thinnest " I had ever seen " to be alive." I suspect his 
 Sentinel in the play of " Pizarro" made little impression upon 
 me, for I do not now remember seeing him at all till he appeared 
 in the farce of " The Kival Soldiers," as Nipper kin ; and in that 
 his performance convulsed me with laughter from beginning to 
 the end.* 
 
 From this time Mr. Mathews kept undisputed possession of 
 his advantage. His comic singing was most particularly ad- 
 mired, though confined in those days merely to songs of 
 epigrammatic point or humorous detail ; all mainly dependent 
 for their etTect upon the quaintness and oddity of his style in 
 singing them : as a local writer once observed, in reference to 
 his early struggles, " Mr. Mathews became a living instance 
 of what may be effected by perseverance. It rendered him one 
 of the most popular actors that ever appeared in the Yorkshire 
 theatres." 
 
 Mr. Mathews, it may be imagined, became another creature 
 from the time he found himself raised from the depressing posi- 
 tion of a third-rate actor to that of the first ; and had any increase 
 to his income accompanied his success, he would have had no 
 alloy to his satisfaction. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Mathews's projects of gain by her publications had 
 all terminated in disappointment. She, like her husband, had 
 been a triton among the minnows, and flattered into vanity by 
 the partiality of her friends, who thought her poetry agreeable, 
 and not being disposed to be critical upon a young lady's verses, 
 written, as it appeared, for private circulation, had said more" in 
 commendation than they might have done had she then medi- 
 tated the publication of her efforts. It was not to be expected 
 that two people, even with habits of the most provident kind, 
 could possibly exist upon eighteen shillings per week ; and the 
 non-success of Mr. Mathews having precluded any profits from 
 his benefit of any consequence, it was not extraordinary that 
 some debts had been contracted, especially as he had firmly 
 abstained from applying to his family for aid. But still he 
 worked on, and still Mrs. Mathews wrote — neither of them to 
 any increase of their pecuniary means. 
 
 * Those who have seen him perform at the Adelphi, the first year he 
 became part proprietor of that theatre, the Tinker {Caleb Pipkin)^ in Mr. 
 Buckstone's drama of "The May Queen," may form some notion of him in 
 the part of Nijpperkirif both characters requiring the same sort of humour. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 77 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Leeds — Prejudice entertained there against actors — Rudeness to female per- 
 formers — Outrage upon Mr. Holman, and upon Miss Gough — Feeling towards 
 actors in Hull — Anecdote — Denman and the landlady — Unpopularity of the 
 Income-tax — Mr. Mathews's whimsical remonstrance to the Commissioners 
 — Letter to Mr. Litchfield — Tate Wilkinson's opinion of Murphy's *' Life of 
 Garrick" — Mr. Mathews's success at York — His fondness for attending 
 trials — Action for killing a donkey — Witness interrogated by Counsellors 
 Eaine and Cockle — Simplicity of the witness — Letter of Mr. William Mathews 
 to his brother. 
 
 Leeds was at this period considered little better than the Botany- 
 Bay of actors. Their dread of the season was in proportion to 
 the inconveniences and disagreeables they experienced during its 
 course. The extraordinary — nay, frightful prejudice cherished 
 by the people I have spoken of in that day, made this periodical 
 stay amongst them a matter of serious dread, especially to the 
 females of the theatre. It appeared as if even the lives of the 
 performers were held in no consideration amongst a certain portion 
 of the natives, whose estimation of "lakers" seemed to agree 
 with ours in relation to the most insignificant animals created 
 only for our use. These people carried their opinions still farther, 
 for they deemed it no sin to torture, or even destroy (could they 
 have done so with impunity) any one of the profession. If an 
 actress had occasion to cross a certain brig (bridge) at a period 
 of the day when the croppers were " sunning themselves" in each 
 other's eyes (in other words, taking their lounge between their 
 working hours), she was obliged to provide herself with an 
 escort to protect her from the rough jokes and assaults of even 
 the most gallant, whose kindness was as much dreaded as their 
 brutahties. 
 
 Mr. Holman once came to Leeds to act, and not liking the 
 dressing-room assigned him in the theatre, performed his theatrical 
 toilette at home. On the first night of his appearance, he was 
 proceeding in a sedan-chair, dressed for Lord Townley in " The 
 Provoked Husband," in the customary court-suit, &c., and other- 
 wise ready to appear upon the stage. In order to escape notice, 
 
78 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 the scanty curtains of the chair were drawn, it being still day- 
 light. Unluckily " 't brig" was lined on either side with its dusky 
 visitants. The sedan, unluckily also, happened to be a novelty 
 to these barbarians, and was hailed as an event — an object of 
 excitement and curiosity. " Eh, dom't ! what's cooming o'er 
 t' brig ? A leather box wi' two chaps a carrying o' t' ! What 
 divil o' thing! Well, I niver seed sooch in all moyloife!'* 
 Then stopping the chairmen, who were proceeding gravely along, 
 and crowding round the chair, they uttered many suggestions as 
 to its nature and use, while Mr. Holman, in some trepidation, 
 endeavoured to draw the little curtains still closer about him. 
 The foremost of the croppers, however, insisted upon the chair- 
 men setting " the thing" down for his particular inspection, and 
 then peering through a small line of uncovered glass into the 
 interior, he caught an obscure view of poor Lord Townley, who 
 deeming it now best to speak and awe them into forbearance, 
 undrew the curtain, and by this act almost sealed his fate. The 
 comedy in which he was going to take part became in great 
 danger of being exchanged for a tragedy, for no sooner did the 
 men obtain a full view of his lordship in his embroidered coat, 
 powdered head, and rouged face, than with a cry of horror 
 (natural enough) they shouted, " A mon wi' his face painted !" 
 "It's a laker!" was the simultaneous cry; and an order from the 
 crowd to " toss him o'er t' brig" was the consequence of this 
 discovery. 
 
 Whether such a suggestion would have been carried into 
 execution or not is uncertain, but the timely interference of 
 several gentlemen of weight and authority luckily put the matter 
 beyond the control of Mr. Holman's assailants. The sedan was 
 ordered on, accompanied by his deliverers (who were going to see 
 him perform), to the very great relief of the actor, who, as he 
 was carried out of the mob, heard one of the ruffians exclaim to 
 another, "Well, I'm vexed we didn't topple him into t' water. 
 Where 'd been t' harm i' drowning a laker ?" 
 
 I remember hearing another instance which occurred about a 
 year previously to the foregoing. A Miss Gough, wishing during 
 the period of her sister's performance at the theatre, to enjoy an 
 evening's stroll by the canal-side, found herself suddenly caught 
 up in the arms of an enormous man-monster of a stone-blue 
 colour from head to feet, dress and complexion. She struggled for 
 freedom, which he declared he " wad na gi' her till she told him 
 wha she was wi' sooch few claithes on" (the fashion at that 
 period being to wear very scanty petticoats, and of thin tex- 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 79 
 
 ture). Too glad to give him the first part of the information 
 required, in hopes of release, she told him that she belonged 
 to the theatre. "Ah! a laker!" cried the brute, setting her 
 down upon her feet, but holding her securely. " Here ! here ! 
 here's a laker!" he bawled out triumphantly, as it seemed, to 
 some of his companions who were employed dressing cloth at a 
 distance. " Coom hither, aw tell thee, here's a domned laker I 
 aw 've getten a laker !" Away they came, leaving their occupa- 
 tion, and running with as much eagerness as might be supposed 
 to have been excited by an announcement of a unicorn or any 
 rare monster. Men, women, and children came thronging round 
 the unfortunate girl, and after having commented upon her dress 
 and profession with coarse jests and insulting words, they soaked 
 in the canal a quantity of brown paper (which they appeared to 
 use in their occupation), and wrapped it round her slight form, 
 till she looked like a mummy. They then turned her forth 
 towards the town, driving and chasing her before them with 
 yells of delight, until she came in view of some human beings, 
 who compassionated and relieved her from her pursuers and her 
 damp habilaments. 
 
 But it was not only with such as these that an actor's pro- 
 fession was despised, but even amongst the majority of the 
 inhabitants. With them, actors, showmen, or any other exhi- 
 bitors, were synonymous, since they had but one word in com- 
 mon for all ; and Garrick, and Richardson of " Bartlemy Fair," 
 the hero of Wilkinson's company, and the trumpeter for Punch, 
 would be all included and confounded in the term " laker." 
 
 Wakefield, as far as related to the lower orders, was in the 
 same state of refinement. Mr. Mathews was walking there by 
 the river-side one day, with a pet puppy at his heels, when one 
 cropper said to another, " Aw say, kick that dug ; topple him into 
 t' river; he's nought but a laker's dug, thou knowst." 
 
 At Pontefract and Doncaster such things were out of the 
 question ; and at the latter place, to be a "laker" was to ensure 
 a welcome with all the kind and agreeable inhabitants of that 
 town ; whilst Hull was the genuine seat of hospitality. Even 
 there, however, might be found amongst the middle orders people 
 who at the best looked upon an actor as an object of commisera- 
 tion. In the winter of 1799, Mr. Mathews dined, in company 
 with one of the performers (Mr. Denman), at a respectable 
 tradesman's house, where two neighbours joined the party after 
 dinner. When the glass had enlivened the party, and every 
 one became chatty and sociable, the two friends who had 
 
30 THE LIFE AND COKRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 "dropped in" (and who were evidently not theatrical), were 
 desirous to know who the new visitors were. On receiving from 
 their host the intimation in a whisper, one of them expressed his 
 astonishment aloud, and both indeed seemed incredulous. Mr. 
 Mathews's thin, spare form was a striking contrast to the John- 
 Bull look of Denman, who was ruddy and plump. " Nay, nay, 
 1 cannot stand that," exclaimed one of the worthies, when mine 
 host reiterated his assurance that " the gentlemen were of Mr. 
 Wilkinson's company." — " Why not ?" asked Mr. Mathews, with 
 some pique in his tone and manner. " Why," replied the puzzled 
 Yorkshii-eman, " I 's sure you're both such nice-looking men, and 
 so well-dressed, that I can't believe you can be players. You," 
 continued he, looking at Mr. Mathews, " do look a little bit 
 hungered, but your friend there, 1 warrant, gets a good meal's 
 meat every day of his life." Denman, much amused, dryly 
 observed, " You're quite right, sir, T certainly do ; but my poor 
 friend there seldom gets a dinner above once in a fortnight !" 
 
 Amongst other reminiscences of my husband's Yorkshire 
 engagement, I remember, when the income-tax occasioned such 
 commotion and heart-burning amongst people of small means, 
 the actors belonging to the York theatre felt the hardship of its 
 lessening the little tney received, which, at the utmost, was 
 barely sufficient to maintain them. Mr. Mathews, just then 
 rising into notice, and his humour getting pretty well understood 
 in private as w^ell as in public, took it into his head to resist this 
 claim upon his little pittance, with all the power of his droll 
 fancy ; and he hit upon an expedient as original as it was 
 eccentric, in order to evade the tax. To induce a mitigation of 
 its enforcement, he drew out a long and tedious list of all the 
 professional drawbacks upon his limited receipts, and in a 
 lengthened string of absurd items, enumerated with ingenious 
 minuteness his "stock in trade;" something in the Ibllowing 
 manner, but extended beyond my limits to give entire. A 
 specimen will suffice. 
 
 At " the head and front" of his inventory, we wall suppose 
 "wigs," which were described in all their infinite variety : such 
 as, " Black wigs, white wigs, brown wigs, red wigs ; bush wigs, 
 tye wigs, bob wigs, bishops' wigs ; wigs with a tail, wigs without 
 a tail ; lawyers' wigs, judges' wigs, parsons' wigs, powdered wigs ; 
 old men's wigs, young men's wigs," &c. 
 
 " Natural heads of hair : namely, red hair, grey hair, flaxen 
 hair, brown hair, black hair, Quakers' hair, countrymen's hair, 
 and bald heads of every description. Beards, whiskers, mus- 
 tachios, eyebrows," &c. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 81 
 
 Stockings of every colour were then enumerated. " White, 
 black, brown, yellow, grey, blue, green ; white stockings with 
 red clocks, red stockings with white clocks, white stockings with 
 blue clocks, blue stockings with white clocks ; silk stockings, 
 worsted ditto ; black stockings with scarlet clocks, scarlet 
 stockings with black clocks, yellow stockings with green clocks, 
 red stockings with no clocks, &c. 
 
 " Old men's shoes, young men's shoes, velvet shoes, leather 
 shoes, gouty shoes, dancing shoes, hobnail shoes, square-toed 
 shoes, round-toed shoes," &c. After which, boots of every 
 quaUty and shape were described. Then shoe and knee-buckles 
 of every size and fashion : " diamond buckles, paste buckles, 
 gold buckles, silver buckles, stock buckles, belt buckles, hat 
 buckles," &c., &c. After these regular requisites were given, 
 came the miscellaneous part of his stock, such as " hats, feathers, 
 caps, cravats, stocks, ruffles, frills, neckerchiefs, handkerchiefs, 
 pens, books, ink, paper, music paper, red ochre, rouge, carmine, 
 hair-powder, wax candles, Indian ink, camel's hair pencils, hare's 
 feet, whiting, burnt corks, cold cream, Windsor soap, and hucka- 
 back towels." 
 
 The above abridgment of this almost interminable list, which 
 covered many sheets of paper, will give some idea of the whole, 
 which was drawn out with the most scrupulous exactness. The 
 author of this piece of absurdity was told that the commissioners 
 listened to the account of the comedian's expenses, which was 
 read aloud to them, and which they thought would last until 
 the "crack of doom," with matter-of-fact attention and gravity 
 for a few minutes. This was succeeded by peals of laughter and 
 perfect good humour to the close ; and though it is to be feared 
 that this laughable appeal did not exempt his theatrical brethren 
 from the tax, it is quite certain that Mr. Mathews was never 
 called upon in York, from that time forth, to contribute to it. 
 
 To Mr. John Litchfield. 
 
 York, March 7th, 1801. 
 Deae Jack, — Murphy's " Life of Garrick" has done our worthy old 
 manager such mischief that he cannot eat, drink, or sleep. He was in 
 eager expectation of this publication, and hoped to derive much amuse- 
 ment from it; but his disappointment has been such, that he attributes 
 an illness under which he now labours to that cause. Certainly it is 
 not what might have been expected from so clever a man as Murphy. 
 It was natural to look for some anecdotes of Garrick hitherto un- 
 published, from a man who was on the stage himself in his time. This 
 circumstance he never mentions. In fact, there is nothing to be met 
 
 G 
 
S2 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 .witli but that which we have already seen in Davies, Wilkinson, &c. ; 
 and the prologues may be had for a shilling, in the **' Spouters' Com- 
 panion." We are much obliged to him, certainly, for his account of the 
 plot, characters, &c., in " Venice Preserved," " Orphan," &c. 
 
 However, to my business. Mr. Wilkinson has detected some gross 
 errors, particularly that of the King not having seen Garrick for many 
 years after he came to London ; and that Garrick solicited to play 
 before him. He has the play-bills of those times by him, and has 
 proved him to be wrong. He is anxious to publish his discovery of 
 Murphy's mistake, and requests to know if you can oblige him with 
 about six pages in your next Mirror ; or, should it be more, to be 
 continued. He says he wants neither fame nor profit, but he could not 
 resist correcting such gross mistakes as Murphy has made, and he likes 
 the truth to be spoken. Now, supposing a theatrical controversy to 
 be rather valuable to a periodical publication, I flattered him with hopes 
 of your acceding to his request. Do not fail to let him know by return 
 of post, and, if it be possible, pray grant it to him ; for his perturbed 
 spirit will not rest till his sentiments are known. He has interlarded 
 all his conversation these eight or nine days past with this subject : 
 Question — " What play, sir, have you fixed for Monday ?" Answer — 
 
 *' Why, Mr. Richer dances, and the farce is , and as to his saying 
 
 that the King did not see Garrick, it is all nonsense ; because my 
 Memoirs will tell," &c. Question — "Good day, sir; any news ? How 
 
 is the King ?" " Why, they say that . For my part, I have no 
 
 patience, because now the ' Chinese Festival' was played when the King 
 bespoke," &c. Question — " What will you have for dinner, my dear ?" 
 
 Answer — " Dinner ! Oh, that mutton yesterday, was , and then you 
 
 know. Murphy not giving any account of his own playing, and giving 
 us all the prologues that we know b}'- heart," &c. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Oh, 
 Jack, I wish you could hear him ! 
 
 Yours unalterably, Chaeles Mathews. 
 
 Mrs. Simpson's, Stonegate. 
 
 York, 22nd March, 1801. 
 Deae Jack, — I have waited several days in expectation of Mr. 
 " Williamskin's"* remarks on Murphy's life, but heat last has declared 
 that he cannot finish them till Passion Week, so of course they cannot 
 be inserted in the Mirror till the number for April. I am very sorry, 
 my dear Jack, that I shall not be able to see you, as I proposed, in 
 Passion Week. I am so engaged in the business, that I was fearful 
 of getting excused from a night or two's plays, without which it would 
 have been but little pleasure to me, as I should have had so short a 
 time to stay ; but I tbund from the arrangements that I could not be 
 spared. I then had some idea of accepting an invitation from Ben 
 Thompson, to whom I was introduced, and with whom I spent some 
 pleasant hours in Hull. I had made up my mind to spend a part of 
 
 The name Mr. Wilkinson called himself occasionally. 
 
 J 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 88 
 
 the week at Nottingham, but even of that I am disappointed, for the 
 manager has his benefit on Easter Tuesday, and gets up " Deaf and 
 Dumb," and " II Bonducani ;" and having Dominique and the Cadi 
 to study, with rehearsals, &c., it will be impossible. You may judge 
 of my disappointment. 
 
 I am getting on in York very fast, and am told by the inhabitants 
 that I am a great favourite, which I did not think was the case last 
 year, my benefit being only 25Z. To be sure, that is no absolute proof, 
 though Mr. Richer had 96Z. ; and one of his houses, his last night, in 
 the assize week, amounted, at advanced prices, to 143Z. ; so much for 
 heels ! However, they promise me better things this year ; but Hull 
 is our best town, for a favourite in Hull connot have a bad house. But 
 they are so cursedly fashionable in York, that we have either concerts, 
 routs, and parties, or assemblies, every night in the week. However, 
 I have had " Counsellor's opinion" of my acting this week, and Serjeant 
 Cockle awarded great praise to it. I had the pleasure of making him 
 laugh heartily in Caleb Quotem. I have delayed saying anything 
 about the novel, and am now writing to you in a hurry ; if you have; 
 therefore, leisure to make any alterations, or improvements, in the 
 following title, I will be obliged — " What has been." 
 
 I find it so lame, and I am so unused to anything of that sort, tha^ 
 I will thank you to write something in its stead. Adieu. 
 
 Yours unalterably, Chaeles Mathews. 
 
 Mr. Mathews was always exceedingly fond of hearing trials, 
 and during the assize weeks at York was a frequent attendant in 
 the courts of justice, whence he derived much of that vast stock 
 of observation of life and character of which he so successfully- 
 availed liimself in after years. 
 
 He felt great enjoyment from the frequently ludicrous trials 
 at which he was present in the civil courts, where originals 
 abounded, and where the passions, in all their varieties and 
 shades, are displayed, and characteristic traits are unfolded to 
 the observer, by the " cunning of the scene." My husband felt 
 that much was to be gathered from the contemplation of human 
 nature under the conflicting and self-deluding position of plain- 
 tiff and defendant. He often related cases of deep interest, but 
 more commonly those of a ridiculous nature. 
 
 The mention of Serjeant Cockle recals the recollection of a 
 trivial but amusing fact, which he related to me on the day it 
 occurred, and which had convulsed the court with laughter. Jt 
 was an instance of naivete in a witness whom he saw examined 
 at York. An action was brought against the owner of a waggon, 
 which by the reckless driving of the waggoner had forced a poor 
 donkey against a wall, and there pressed the poor creature to 
 death. Compensation was therefore sought by its proprietor 
 
S4! THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 for the loss of the animal and its services. This trial caused 
 much mirth in its progress. The principal witness for the 
 plaintiff was the driver of the donkey, who, feeling himself very 
 much "brow-beat" by the defendant's counsel, Mr. Eaine, 
 became exceedingly nervous and confused in his evidence, which 
 he gave with his eyes upon the ground. He was several times 
 reprimanded by the judge for not looking in the faces of those 
 by whom he was interrogated, and desired to hold up his head. 
 The poor timid fellow's embarrassment increased upon every 
 reproof, and the opposing counsel, Mr. Raine (who had a 
 powerful cast in his eyes), was particularly severe with him, 
 repeating the judge's injunction several times, saying, " Hold up 
 your head, witness ; look up ; why don't you look up, I say ? 
 Can't you hold up your head, fellow ? Can't you look as I do ?'* 
 "Nay, sir," replied the countryman, with perfect simplicity, 
 *' I can't — you squint." 
 
 The laughter of the court now gave the supporting counsel, 
 Serjeant Cockle (who was also a sharp questioner, but, luckily 
 for the poor witness, on his side), opportunity of calling upon 
 the man to describe the local situations of the several parties 
 concerned, their relative positions at the time of the accident 
 and death of the poor donkey, where the waggon was, and 
 where the animal, &c. The poor harassed witness paused for a 
 minute, standing with his eyes again downcast, as if he saw no 
 possibility, by words, of giving the required explanation. Objects 
 palpable seemed necessary to describe the scene referred to. 
 However, looking stealthily round at the parties present, as he 
 scratched his head, the image of perplexity, while Serjeant 
 Cockle mildly urged him to obey orders, he at length seemed 
 to have arranged the means in his mind's eye of giving the 
 required information. Hesitatingly he began — " Weel, my Lord 
 Joodge, I'll tell ye how it happened, as well asl can. First of all," 
 turning to Cockle, " you'll suppose you are the wall." — "Very 
 good," said Cockle. "Ay, you are the wall," repeated the wit- 
 ness, and the counsel, rather impatient at the repetition, replied, 
 *' Yes, yes ; now proceed. I am the wall. Well ?" — " Yees, sir," 
 reiterated the man, " you are the wall." Then changing his 
 own position in the court to another spot, he added, " And now, 
 I am the waggon." — " Very well," observed the judge, in token 
 of his understanding him, " proceed." — " Yees," again asserted 
 the tedious, but earnest witness, " I am the waggon." — " Well, 
 well," said the now impatient judge, "you've told us thafc^ 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 8q 
 
 before. Go on ; you're the waggon." — " Yees, I'm the waggon— r 
 and," with a low bow, "your lordship's the ass." 
 
 This evidence, though not perhaps quite satisfactory to the 
 judge, was conclusive. 
 
 To Mr. Charles Mathews, 
 
 Barbadoes, June 5th, 1801. 
 
 My dear Charles, — There is a melancholy pleasure in communi- 
 cating our thoughts to the objects of our best regards, when at an 
 immense distance from us, which is not to be conceived by those who 
 pass their lives in the dull uniformity of a settled existence, and with- 
 out even an occasional separation from those they love. When I could 
 hear every day of your proceedings, I acknowledge that you had some 
 reason to complain of my indolence, though never of my love to you 
 and yours. The case is now altered, and the desire of hearing from 
 you, and communicating with you, becomes a passion of great force in 
 my breast. Your happiness is a great object with me, and it is with 
 much impatience 1 am waiting to have a communication of good news 
 from you or your wife. Do not, I entreat you, suffer any notion of my 
 former negligence to prevent your writing to me by every opportunity. 
 There are two pair of hands in your family fully capable of contri- 
 buting to the pleasure of an absent friend and brother ; and you will be 
 really inexcusable, if one or other of you do not frequently let me know 
 how you pass your time, and give me full information of the ameli- 
 oration of your prospects in life, and your progress towards the higher 
 situations in the liberal profession in which you are engaged. I have 
 been in this island two months, and have met with the greatest hospi- 
 tality and friendship. A better prospect, however, offering itself for 
 the acquisition of money in Tobago, I am about to quit this place for 
 the latter, and as there are only two lawyers in the island, I make no 
 doubt, with the recommendations I shall have, of soon acquiring a 
 considerable share of business. 
 
 Hitherto ill-fortune has pursued me in every shape, but I hope that 
 her persecution is nearly over ; and I trust that hereafter I shall be 
 enabled to spend a tranquil life in the society of my friends in England 
 in ease and affluence. Whatever may be my fate, 1 shall still have the 
 consolation of having exerted myself, and of having acquired in every 
 situation the esteem of men of sense and worth. There has never 
 occurred in the course of my life any circumstance so flattering to me 
 as the estimation in which I have the honour to be held by some of the 
 first people in point of consequence and liberality of sentiment in this 
 island, to whom I had not even the slight introduction of a letter. 
 Success, therefore, in my object will be the highest gratification of ray 
 self-love, as I shall in that case with propriety call myself the fabrl* 
 cator of my own fortunes. ^ 
 
 You also, my dear brother, will have a similar gratification. You 
 have uniformly gained the esteem of strangers j and by a continuance 
 
86 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 of the same good conduct you may be certain of a final termination of 
 all your wants, and satisfaction of every wish of your heart. I hope 
 JBliza continues to employ her pen, and, still more, that she takes pains 
 to improve her style. Her invention and powers are good ; and by a 
 constant perusal of the best writers, and a sedulous attention to their 
 errors, and the defects of her own compositions, she may hereafter 
 expect both fame and fortune from her exertions j .but without labour 
 neither can be acquired. 
 
 I hope you both continue to enjoy good health. My own is better 
 •than ever it was in England. Heat is the element in which I live. 
 •In cold weather I have a bare, comfortless existence. Tell Eliza from 
 me, that I sincerely wish her well in body and mind ; but that to secure 
 the latter from disease, she must carefully watch that the seeds of 
 auperstition, which some one has plentifully sown in her heart, do not 
 bring forth the fruit it generally does, illiberality of sentiment, and 
 that worst of all fiends, religious bigotry. The whole history of man- 
 kind is but a relation of the fatal and mischievous effects of this 
 diabolical tyrant, who has uniformly preyed upon the enlightened few 
 that have dared to lift up their heads against the oppressor of their 
 afflicted brethren, and has gnawed the very vitals of social existence. 
 -There is no part of the globe that is not even now groaning beneath 
 her baneful pressure ; and, whatever form she assumes, she still arro- 
 Ijates to herself the claim of infallibility, and her votaries, of whatever 
 sect they may be, damn by wholesale all the rest of the world. 
 ■ A freedom from superstition is the first blessing we can enjoy. 
 ■Religion in some shape seems necessary to political existence. The 
 wise man laughs at the follies of the vulgar, and in the pure contem- 
 plation of a benevolent Author of all beings, finds that happiness which 
 others in vain look for amid the load of trumpery and ceremonies with 
 which they think the Creator is gratified. If He can be gratified by 
 :&nj exertion of feeble mortals, it must be when they imitate His per- 
 fection by mutual benevolence and kindness. That you may long 
 enjoy these blessings is the sincere prayer of your brother and friend, 
 
 W. Mathews. 
 
 "With the above remarks the writer's early experience had 
 Something to do ; and his feelings naturally took alarm at a 
 .mistaken tendency, evident to all who knew the amiable person 
 to whom he alludes. Mr. William Mathews had in his boyhood 
 •felt the gloom and rigours of fanaticism under his father's roof, 
 ■where he had ceased to reside for some years, although he 
 •frequently visited it, and was on the most affectionate terms 
 with all his family, who might be said to idolize him. But in 
 these visits he resisted with all the energies of his strong mind 
 every aft;er association with the ignorant and illiberal portion of 
 .his father's " brethren." 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 87 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Mr. Mathews's accident while performing at York — Death of his brother — 
 Letter to Mr. Litchfield — Mrs. Mathews's illness and dying wishes — Letter 
 to Mr. Litchfield — Death of Mrs. Mathews — A remarkable dream — Letter 
 from Mr. Colman, offering Mr. Mathews an engagement in London — Cor- 
 respondence on the subject. 
 
 The September of this year (1801) brought with it much 
 calamity and sorrow. Mr. Mathews, while performing the Obi- 
 Woman in " Three-fingered Jack " (in compliance with a whim of 
 his master), was crouching under a heavy platform, when the 
 whole of it suddenly gave way and fell upon him ! The audience 
 and all present were miich alarmed, and believed that he was 
 killed, but after the tedious process of removing the whole of 
 the apparatus, he was found alive, but senseless ; nor was he 
 restored to consciousness for a long time, when his bruises were 
 found to be severe. He was then put to bed in a wretched 
 state of suffering, covered with plaisters and bandages ; and as 
 " one sorrow seldom comes, but brings an heir that may succeed," 
 a letter by the next morning's post filled his heart with the 
 deepest anguish. The cause of this will be explained in the 
 following bill, issued from the theatre the same day : 
 
 Theatre, Wakefield, Sept. 19th, 1801. 
 The unfortunate accident which Mr. Mathews met with last night in 
 the entertainment of " Obi," and in addition to that misfortune, the 
 melancholy news received this day of the sudden death of his brother, 
 has so affected him as to render it utterly impossible for him to make 
 his appearance on the stage this evening. Mr. Wilkinson is therefore 
 under the absolute necessity of changing the play atid farce to Dr. 
 Goldsmith's favourite comedy of " She Stoops to Conquer," and "The 
 Poor Soldier." 
 
 Thus, wounded alike in body and mind, Mr. Mathews con- 
 tinued incapable of any exertion of either for some time, as the 
 annexed letter, dated a month after, to his kind friend Mr. 
 Litchfield (by whom his brother's death had been communi- 
 cated to him), will show. 
 
88 THE LIFE AND COREESPONDENCE OF 
 
 To Mr. John Litchfield. 
 
 Doncaster, October ISth, 1801. 
 
 I know, my dear friend, that you will not attribute my silence to 
 neglect, or imagine that I have not a proper sense of your kindness ; 
 but you are of course aware, from " sad experience," what must have 
 been my feelings on the receipt of your melancholy, though kind and 
 sensible, letter. I never received such a shock before. I have since 
 found that it was mentioned in the Yorkshire papers three days before 
 I received the unhappy news from you. I seldom miss reading the 
 papers, but it so happened that just at that time we were travelling, 
 and I had no opportunity of seeing them. To have received the intel- 
 ligence in such a way would have been, if possible, a worse shock to 
 my spirits. I feel many obligations to you, my dear and valued friend, 
 for the manly and sensible consolation you offered in your letter. 
 
 Poor William ! never were two brothers more enthusiastically 
 attached to each other than that noble fellow and myself. Why would 
 he be persuaded to go to that fatal country ? I think it not at all 
 irrational to say, that whoever goes voluntarily to that cursed climate 
 is in some degree guilty of suicide ; and if otherwise, those who per- 
 suade him are in some degree guilty of murder. How many thousand 
 Europeans have found their graves in that destructive spot. But it is 
 in vain to lament ! The grief one naturally feels, however, at the loss 
 of friends is considerably augmented when they die at a distance ; for 
 there is a melancholy satisfaction in reflecting that we had it in our 
 power to soothe and comfort the last moments of a departed friend. 
 Poor lamented William ! what must have been his sensations ! How 
 must his sufferings have been aggravated by anticipating the severe 
 shock his death must occasion to his beloved parents and family. I 
 think it somewhat singular that the person who wrote on the subject 
 should not mention the cause of his death,* 
 
 Yours unalterably, Chaeles Mathews. 
 
 Mr. Mathews had scarcely time allowed him to recover from 
 the effects of this severe blow upon his affections, when another 
 threatened to lay prostrate his domestic happiness and " desolate 
 his hearth." 
 
 For many months past the natural delicacy of Mrs. Mathews's 
 constitution had increased, and at length a more serious result 
 seemed impending than was at first apprehended. The symp- 
 toms of decline hourly gained ground ; her habits of confinement 
 (for she still clung to the fallacious hope of gain by her pen, and 
 was constantly devoted to its exercise), and her anxiety to con- 
 tribute to her husband's narrow and inadequate means were such, 
 that she neither allowed herself air nor proper exercise; and 
 everybody who saw her, except (as it generally happens) those 
 
 * It was afterwards ascertained that he died of the yellow fever. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 89 
 
 who were most interested in her safety, clearly perceived her 
 danger. She grew weaker and weaker, but the activity of her 
 mind, and her naturally good spirits, not only deceived her 
 husband, but even herself; and it was not until the winter of 
 this year that he apprehended any serious catastrophe. Phy- 
 sicians were then called in, and the " coming event cast its 
 shadow before ;" for the shocked husband was candidly told 
 that medical aid could not avert the prematvire doom which 
 hung over the head of his amiable wife. 
 
 She daily grew worse, and at last was constantly confined to 
 her bed. Her own convictions may be learned from the follow- 
 ing circumstance, which I must introduce with a compliment 
 necessarily implied to myself. Mrs. Mathews, from the first 
 moment of our meeting, conceived a violent affection for me ; 
 and, though I was many years her junior, she sought my friend- 
 ship and regard by every means in her power. I was hardly 
 capable of estimating her superiority of intellect, but I loved 
 her sufficiently to think her society desirable ; and I esteemed 
 her husband as an honourable young man, and, to my perception, 
 the most perfect comic actor in the world. In fact, I would 
 stand at the side-scenes for a whole evening to see him act, so 
 delighted was I with him ; further than this, I was unconscious 
 of partiality for him. 
 
 It happened that at one period, during the winter of this year, 
 I had not been so recently to see my poor friend as I wished. 
 The weather was severe, and her habitation distant from my 
 own : I was, besides, constantly occupied at the theatre, where 
 I received daily accounts of her state from her husband, whose 
 depression was evidently increasing ; and messages of the kindest 
 nature passed through him between the invalid and myself. 
 One evening, Mr Mathews told me that his wife was better, and 
 was most desirous that I would go to see her the next day at a 
 particular hour. Of course I obeyed her summons ; and found 
 her, as I had been led to expect, apparently much better. I 
 complimented her upon the favourable change, which she told 
 me was owing to a design she had conceived, and in the fulfiU 
 ment of which she required me to aid her. I was delighted ; 
 but the invalid wished to postpone the explanation until her 
 husband's return home, which she expected every moment. In 
 the mean time, she chatted with cheerfulness, and would be 
 propped up in bed, in order, as she said, to be able to look at us 
 both while she revealed her project. Mr. Mathews at last 
 entered the room, and uttered an exclamation of surprise and 
 
W THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 pleasure at seeing the poor sufferer able to be raised up as she 
 had been. She repeated to him what she had told me, that the 
 cause of her present comfort was that which she had called us 
 together to reveal ; and after a preface, which agitated all 
 parties very much (for she candidly avowed her conviction that it 
 was out of the power of human skill to save her), she pa- 
 thetically deplored leaving her husband, particularly as he 
 would naturally marry again — possible/ a woman who would less 
 understand his valuable qualities of heart and mind than she 
 had done. She saw, too, in that case, that he would be wretched, 
 and this idea had preyed upon her feelings as her disease in- 
 creased, and sharpened all her pains. 
 
 During a pause which her weakness rendered necessary, her 
 hearers looked at each other with perplexity, and some suspicion 
 that her intellects were wandering. She resumed, however, and 
 after one or two affecting allusions to her own death, which she 
 predicted must occur within a brief period from the time she was 
 addressing us, turning to me, she began to expatiate upon her 
 feelings and affection towards me, and deplored my partially 
 unprotected state, which my extreme youth and inexperience 
 rendered so dangerous. The thought of this, she declared, 
 doubled her remaining cares in this world, and she conjured me, 
 with her "dear husband," to take compassion upon her state, 
 and the fears which so embittered her last days, by making 
 a promise, jointly with him, to fulfil her dying wishes. The 
 poor sufferer then took her husband's hand in hers, and kissed it 
 fervently, and asking for mine, and pressing it also to her 
 feverish lips in a solemn manner, which I remember made me 
 tremble all over, called upon us both to pledge ourselves to 
 become man and wife after her dissolution ! 
 
 It would be impossible to describe our surprise, embarrassment, 
 and distress. The proposition was truly painful to me, and it 
 was impossible not to feel for the equally delicate position of 
 Mr. Mathews, who rather impetuously reproved the poor in- 
 valid, for having drawn him into so extraordinary a dilemma ; 
 whilst I, covered with confusion and drowned in tears, sobbed 
 with agony at the necessity I felt of rejecting the proposal, 
 in which she said she believed she provided for the mutual good 
 of the two beings she loved best. Dreading the worst conse- 
 quences from the agitation and disappointment of her romantic 
 project, I fell upon my knees at her bed-side, beseeching her 
 pardon at the impossibility I felt to comply with her desire, 
 from a total absence of any feeling but that of friendship for 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 91 
 
 her husband. As for poor Mr. Mathews, he seemed inexpres- 
 sibly shocked and mortified at the situation into which he had 
 been surprised, as well as for the distressing scene in which I 
 had been implicated. After I had soothed her as far as pos- 
 sible, and reiterated my want of power to think of such an 
 union, I quitted the chamber of my poor dying friend ; her hus- 
 band rushed after me, beseeching me not to harbour for one 
 moment a suspicion that he had the remotest idea of the nature 
 of his wife's intention, when he delivered her summons to me, 
 and begging me to attribute her extraordinary conduct to a 
 sHght delirium, for such he felt assured it was. 
 
 However this might be, I ever after, during the remainder 
 of her painful existence, dreaded and avoided any approach to 
 confidential communication with her ; and, I fear, saw less of 
 her than a strict feeling of friendship would justify. It may 
 also be imagined that Mr. Mathews and myself became more 
 formal in our manners and intimacy than we otherwise should 
 have been, until the painful impression gradually subsided. 
 
 The scene just described happened early in the year, and still 
 the poor sufferer lived on in pain and difficulty, such as only 
 an implicit reliance upon the goodness of Heaven could lend 
 her resignation to support. In May, however, it will be seen, 
 by the following letter of her husband to his friend in London, 
 that hope was rapidly lessening ; and his own words will best 
 speak for his feelings, and the virtues of her whom he was 
 about to lose, and will at the same time show his just appre- 
 ciation of them. 
 
 York, May 16th, 1802. 
 
 Deae Jack, — Believe me, I am much gratified to find that you will 
 not pass over an opportunity of writing to me ; and that it is in my 
 power to compliment you on your reformation in that respect, as your 
 communications are much more frequent than they used to be. I 
 assure you, my dear friend, that the sight of " Dear Stick" is one of 
 the most pleasurable sensations I expei'ience, and such sensations have 
 of late been more than ever valuable. 
 
 I am in a most melancholy situation — six months* illness ! Poor 
 Ehza ! she still continues lingering — the greatest of all sufferers, and 
 one of the most patient. She coughs sometimes for nearl}- half an hour 
 together, and this is succeeded by the most dreadful sight I ever saw — 
 the vomiting of blood. Her bones are so nearly through the skin, that 
 she can with difficulty turn in her bed. She rises for about half an 
 hour in the day, and then can with difficulty crawl across the room. I 
 have had the best advice I could procure ; but all the medical men I 
 have employed are of opinion she cannot recover, and it appears to me 
 impossible that she can, for her lungs must certainly be very much 
 
92 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 injured, if not nearly decayed. I assure you it is a severe stroke upon 
 me. Independently of the prospect of losing a valuable and intelligent 
 companion, the dreadful expenses of her illness are nearly the ruin of 
 me. You may judge yourself how heavily it must fall on a country 
 actor — six months' apothecaries' bills, with the mortifying reflection 
 that all such assistance is in vain. But this is a melancholy subject to 
 intrude on you ; you must excuse my dwelling on it ; in fact, I am not 
 fit to write. My mind and body are harassed. I have not had a 
 sound night's sleep these three months. 
 
 You may judge I was much flattered at hearing the opinion of Pope, 
 It is indeed valuable to hear of such praise, and to me of all people. 
 No one has met with more difficulties than I have ; but I have perse- 
 vered, and when I find myself thus spoken of, it is an assurance that 
 my efforts have not been in vain. When I came here, Wilkinson 
 thought I never should make an actor ; certainly he saw me frequently 
 to disadvantage. Now he is proud of reading his recantation. He 
 told Mrs. Chapman (who, by the by, is a wonderful favourite here) 
 that I was the most promising young man he ever remembered to have 
 had — the most perfect and attentive to dress, and the greatest favourite 
 he has had for many years, particularly in York. "Nay, ma'am, 
 Fawcett was nothing to him" (meaning as a favourite). This, from 
 him, you may imagine, is highly gratifying. I n)ust tell you that by 
 his desire I studied, or rather re-stu<iied, Falstaff; I have played it 
 twice, and have been highly complimented by him. He told Stephen 
 Kemble, who played here four nights, and values himself much on 
 Falstaff, that I played it better, and that he wanted humour. I have 
 had the second best benefit here — 96Z. 15*. Od. The manager only 
 beat me, and he had a great bill — " Cabinet," and a Harlequin Panto- 
 mime. Mine is a plain bill — "The Beaux* Stratagem," and "The 
 Lying Valet." Fifty pounds is reckoned a great house here. Emery, 
 who was a great favourite, never got so high. I assure you I am most 
 comfortably situated, and never expected to be so fortunate in the pro- 
 fession. I have the first business — first salary — first benefits — first 
 acquaintance ; and never had an unpleasant word with the manager, in 
 the course of my engagement. I have before apologized to you for 
 being guilty of egotism ; but I am confident it is not unpleasant to you, 
 and you are the only person to whom I could say so much. Thompson's 
 opinion I am not a little proud of.* I disputed the point with him 
 before he wrote, about Ollajpod's jacket having the facing, and that I 
 could not help. I maintain I dress it right. Fawcett's, from the 
 description I have had of it, has nothing but extravagance to recommend 
 it ; I dress it as I see all apothecaries, in the cavalry dress. 
 
 I was much disappointed at not coming to London in Passion week. 
 I had made up my mind some time before, and nothing but Mrs. 
 
 * Benjamin Thompson, then well known for his literary and dramatic taste, 
 and recognised as the translator and adapter of " The Stranger." He was also 
 a person of great local influence, so that his favourable opinion was worth 
 obtaining. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 93 
 
 Mathews's dangerous state could have prevented me j however, it was 
 impossible to leave her. 
 
 Have you seen Dwyer? I never doubted his first reception in 
 London ; he has the knack of striking at first ; but, as John Moody 
 says, " he canna baud it." If he become a favourite in London, I shall 
 think our York audience "plaguy hard to please." His benefit was 
 only 26Z. ; but, to be sure, that is not always a criterion of estimation. 
 Oh ! I forgot to tell you that I have discovered I am a famous ventri- 
 loquist — at least, I have made the people believe so, and that is pretty 
 nearly the same thing. I have done it on the stage in Hull and York 
 with amazing applause, and am told I am a capital artist. 
 
 The poems are finished, and the printer only waits for subscribers' 
 names. Now, my dear Jack, I think this long letter deserves an im- 
 mediate answer. Do write ; it will afford rae peculiar consolation. 
 
 I am unalterably yours, Ohaeles Mathews. 
 
 Mrs. Mathews's disorder (pulmonary consumption) increased 
 hourly, and her dissolution was daily expected during a painful 
 period of six months. Her excessive sufferings were borne by 
 her with an equal mind throughout, a strong religious reliance, 
 which never wavered, supporting her; and on the 25th of May 
 the following qffiche at the door of the theatre announced the 
 release of this amiable young woman from her earthly trials, 
 her illness having lasted upwards of a 3'ear and a half. 
 
 Theatre Royal, Yorh. 
 
 May 25th, 1802. 
 The sudden death of Mrs. Mathews this afternoon rendering it im- 
 possible for Mr. Mathews to perform this evening, Mr. Wilkinson is 
 under the absolute necessity of changing the ppera of " The Cabinet," 
 to Mr. Cumberland's comedy of "The Jew ; or, a Peep at the Human 
 Heart." The farce, Mr. W. is in hopes, can be done without the 
 assistance of Mr. Mathews, 
 
 Although prepared — if expectation of the loss of those we 
 love can be called preparation — for this mournful event, Mr. 
 Mathews felt as if he had never contemplated the result of 
 his wife's illness. The fits to which he had so long been occa- 
 sionally subject assailed him with redoubled violence, and when 
 he again appeared amongst us, he seemed almost as ill as his 
 suffering wife had looked on the day of our distressing inter- 
 view. When her death was announced to me by a mutual friend, 
 I almost reproached myself that I had not sacrificed my own 
 inclinations to her dying request. As it was, the recollection 
 of it produced almost a coldness between the sad widower and 
 myself for some time after, though in a few months both seemed 
 to have recovered from it, and an easy friendship was resumed. 
 
94 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 At the close of the summer a very remarkable instance oc- 
 curred of a coincidence of dreams, befalling Mr. Mathews and 
 myself, a circumstance which I am induced to relate, since it 
 was attested by witnesses who severally and apart were informed 
 of it, before the dreamers had power to communicate with each 
 other, or their mutual friends.* Mr. Mathews's account of his 
 impressions was as follows ; — He had gone to rest, after a very 
 late night's performance at the theatre, finding himself too 
 fatigued to set up to his usual hour to read; but after 
 he was in bed he discovered — as will happen when persons 
 attempt to sleep before their accustomed time — that to close his 
 ejes was an impossibihty. He had no light, nor the means of 
 getting one, all the family being in bed ; but the night was not 
 absolutely dark — it was only too dark for the purpose of read- 
 ing ; indeed, every object was visible. Still he endeavoured to 
 go to sleep, but his eyes refused to close, and in this state of 
 restlessness he remained, when suddenly a slight rustling, as if 
 of a hasty approach of something, induced him to turn his head 
 to that side of the bed whence the noise seemed to proceed; 
 and there he clearly beheld the figure of his late wife, " in 
 her habit as she lived," who, smiling sweetly upon him, put 
 forth her hand as if to take his, as she bent forward. This 
 w^as all he could relate ; for, in shrinking from the contact with 
 the figure he beheld, he threw himself out of bed upon the 
 floor, where (the fall having alarmed his landlord) he was found 
 in one of those dreadful fits to which I have alluded. On his 
 recovery from it he i:elated the cause of the accident, and the 
 whole of the following day he remained extremely ill, and un- 
 able to quit his room. 
 
 There is nothing surprising in all this ; for, admitting it not 
 to be a dream, but one of those cases called nightmare, so fre- 
 quently experienced (when the sufferer always believes himself 
 under real influences), it was not a case to excite astonishment. 
 The circumstance which rendered it remarkable, was that at 
 the exact hour when this scene was taking place at a remote 
 distance, a vision of the same kind caused me to be discovered 
 precisely in the same situation. The same sleepless effect, the 
 same cause of terror, had occasioned me to seize the bell-rope, 
 in order to summon the people of the house, which, giving way 
 
 * Many of our familiar friends in London will remember with what earnest- 
 ness and solemnity my husband related this account long after the period of 
 its occurrence, when he thought his listeners were not disposed to scoff at such 
 details, or be sceptical of their truth. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 95 
 
 at the moment, I fell with it in my hand upon the ground. 
 My impressions of this visitation (as I persisted it was) were 
 exactly similar to those of Mr. Mathews. The parties with 
 whom we resided at the time were perfect strangers to each 
 other, and living widely apart, and they recounted severally to 
 those about them the extraordinary dream, for such I must call 
 it, though my entire belief will never be shaken that I was as 
 perfectly awake as at this moment. These persons repeated 
 the story to many, before they were requested to meet and 
 compare accounts ; there could consequently be no doubt of the 
 facts, and the circumstance became a matter of much general 
 interest amongst all those who knew us. 
 
 That the scene at the bedside of the dying woman simulta- 
 neously recurred to the dreamers when awake was natural enough, 
 and was afterwards confessed. How far the facts which I have 
 here related tended to the serious result of our continued in- 
 timacy I will not determine ; but it is certain that neither of us 
 regarded it as an impediment at a future period, or a just reason 
 why we should not at last fulfil the desire of her whose wishes 
 were made known to us at a time when it would have been dis- 
 creditable to both, had we supposed ourselves able to comply 
 with it at any future period of our lives. 
 
 In the space of eight months, Mr. Mathews had been de- 
 prived of two of his dearest ties : for the first loss he was totally 
 unprepared, and the shock was appalling in its effect upon him ; 
 but of the latter he had been mercifully and gradually warned ; 
 and though he felt it deepl^^ and sincerely, yet his grief naturally 
 bore a milder aspect than it would otherwise have done. It 
 might be said that his wife had been dead to him and the 
 world long before the event of her actual dissolution. Not- 
 withstanding this, his own malady, as I have said, returned with 
 alarming force, for it always recurred when mental suffering 
 existed. He had several severe fits, which weakened his strength 
 and retarded the renewal of the composure of which he had so 
 long been deprived. 
 
 Fortunately an event, as unexpected as it was gratifying, 
 occurred, which was calculated to rouse his dormant energies and 
 to raise his mind from its distressing depression and disability. 
 The master passion was again predominant, and though he sighed 
 when he remembered that she who would have so gloried in his 
 triumph was no longer a participator in his woe or weal, yet he 
 could not conceal from himself or others the satisfaction which 
 the offer now made to him gave his pride as well as his ambition. 
 
'96 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 This offer, " big with the fate of" Mathews, shall speak for 
 itself, in its original form. 
 
 To Mr. Mathews. 
 
 ( Theatre Royal, Haymarket, 14th Sept. 1802. 
 
 Sib, — Your merits as an actor having been mentioned to me, give 
 me leave to propose an engagement to you, for next year, in my 
 theatre. It is my intention to commence the season positively on the 
 15th of next May, and to continue it to the 15th of the following 
 September. Should you think it ehgible to embrace the opportunity 
 which I now offer to you, of performing for four months before a 
 London audience, I beg you will be kind enough to inform me on what 
 terms you will give me your assistance. At all events, I shall thank 
 you for a speedy answer, directed to me, at Mr. Jewell's, 26, Suffolk- 
 street, Charing-cross. 
 
 I am, sir, your obedient servant, G. Colman. 
 
 To George Colman, Esq. 
 
 Wakefield, September 23rd, 1802. 
 
 Sir, — ^T feel much flattered by the offer of an engagement in your 
 theatre, but cannot come to an}' determination on the subject till I 
 understand more particularly what situation you propose to me. I 
 must beg leave to decline mentioning terms, as I am entirely ignorant 
 of the salaries you usually give. I am so fortunate as to be in great 
 fame on this circuit, in possession of the first cast of characters, and 
 on the best of terms with my manager. It is indeed in every respect 
 a most valuable situation, and it is only on very advantageous terms 
 that I shall be induced to quit it. I most undoubtedly wish to perform 
 in London, but must look for an ample compensation for resigning a 
 lucrative situation for an engagement of only four months. 
 
 I shall be obliged to you, sir, to let me know what salaries you can 
 afford to give, and if I accede to your wishes, what business will be 
 allotted to me. This is a very material consideration, and I entreat 
 that you will be as explicit as possible. I have performed in the York 
 theatre the entire range of principal low comedy, and am well studied. 
 
 Have the goodness to inform me if at any part of the season any of 
 the established London performers are to be engaged. I shall thank 
 you for an answer as soon as possible. We leave this place on 
 Tuesday, the 28th, after which time be kind enough to direct — Theatre, 
 Doncaster. 
 
 I am, sir, your obedient servant, Charles Mathews. 
 
 The next letter from Mr. Colman is lost, but Mr. Mathews's 
 reply will explain its general tendency. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 97 
 
 To George Colman, Esq. 
 
 Doncaster, Oct. 6th, 1802. 
 SiE, — I agree with you, that my talents are my own property, and 
 that I have a rij^ht to put a price on them ; but I may set too high a 
 value on those talents, and incur the charge of monstrous vanity. You 
 offer handsomely, yet still I wish you had mentioned terms. However, 
 as that seems the only bar to our coming to a final determination, I 
 will, rather than be the cause of any farther delay, waive my objections, 
 and speak decidedly on the subject. I must confess the style of your 
 letter is so liberal and gentlemanly, that the desire I feel to engage 
 with you is increased. With respect to my situation here, I can only 
 repeat what 1 have already said. It will be tedious and uninteresting 
 to you to particularize the many circumstances which make this circuit 
 valuable to me. In leaving it I make a great sacrifice, both as to profit 
 and pleasure ; therefore, considering the advantages I resign, the short- 
 ness of your engagement, and the hazard of remaining out of a situation 
 at the close of it, I cannot in justice to myself think of resigning my 
 present certain income under 10^. per week. If your scheme will afibrd 
 such a salary, I am willing immediately to close an engagement with 
 you. I beg an answer as soon as possible. 
 
 And am, sir, your obedient servant, Chaeles Mathews. 
 
 To Mr. Mathews. 
 
 SuflFolk-street, Oct. 8, 1802. 
 SiE, — The terms which you have proposed are certainly high, and 
 perhaps unprecedented, for a performer who has not yet felt the pulse 
 of a London audience; but the reasons stated for thus fixing your 
 ultimatum appear to be founded on justice, to put vanity out of the 
 question. I waive, therefore, all mention of any risk incurred on my 
 part, in my new speculation, and embrace your oft'er. But to prevent 
 all mistakes, permit me to state precisely what I conceive to be the 
 engagement. Ten pounds a-week and a benefit, of which benefit you 
 pay the usual charges. You will perform from the 15th May to the 
 15th September inclusive. If you engage in London after your 
 appeai-ance with me, you give me the preference in a re engagement. 
 If you think any short legal memorandum requisite between us, I am 
 willing to enter into it. If you conceive the letters that pass between 
 us as sufficient, I am quite content that it should remain an agreement 
 upon honour. Pray send me two lines speedily, which will be con- 
 clusive. I will (when we meet in the summer) do everythhig in my 
 power to contribute to your reputation with the public, and your comfort 
 in my theatre. 
 
 I am, sir, your obedient humble servant, G. Colman. 
 
 P.S. — Of course your attendance will be expected in town a week or 
 ten days (as I begin with novelties) previously to the opening of the 
 theatre. 
 
 H 
 
98 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 To George Colman, Esq. 
 
 Doncaster, Oct. 13, 1802. 
 
 Sir, — I ought to apologise for neglecting to give you an immediate 
 answer, but I was absent from Doncaster when your letter arrived, and 
 hurr}'^ of business has since prevented me. 
 
 Nothing now remains but my final decision for your satisfaction. I 
 accept the terms, and will be with you at the time proposed. On my 
 part I feel perfectly satisfied with the letters that have passed between 
 us, and am content it should remain an agreement upon honour. I 
 cannot for a moment think of the necessity for a legal agreement with 
 a man who, in every part of our negotiation, has behaved so liberally. 
 I thank you for your warm assurances of assistance, and hope I shall 
 prove worthy of your kindness. The only anxiety I now feel is as to 
 my appearance before the awful tribunal of the metropolis. Much 
 depends on a judicious choice of character. Pray satisfy me (when 
 you are at leisure) if you positively intend to open with new pieces. 
 Original characters will be undoubtedly desirable ; but it will be 
 necessary for you to know my particular forte, and satisfactory to all 
 to know in what kind of character you propose to introduce me. A 
 few lines explaining your intentions on this subject will much oblige 
 me. If I have the good fortune to succeed with the public, I feel a 
 perfect reliance, from your general character for gentlemanly conduct 
 to your performers, of comfort in your theatre. 
 
 I am, sir, your obedient servant, Charles Mathews. 
 
 To George Colman, JSsq., Theatre Hoyal, HaymarTcet. 
 
 Hull, February 14th, 1803. 
 Dear Sir, — I have anxiously waited in expectation of the pleasure 
 of a letter from you. I much wished to hear your further opinion with 
 respect to the characters most proper to fix on for my first appearance. 
 I wrote to you at some length upon this subject, which letter (together 
 with the list of characters in which I am studied) I presume you 
 received. However, I should not have troubled you again on this 
 subject, as we have yet good time to deliberate ; but I can no longer 
 delay mentioning to you a circumstance of considerable importance to 
 myself, and in which you may in some degree be hereafter interested. 
 It is, therefore, necessary that I impart to you a secret, which none of 
 ray friends in London are in possession of In all human probability 
 before I leave Yorkshire I shall take unto myself a wife. Now, sir, if 
 you please you may, as I said before, be interested in this matter, as I 
 write to you now to solicit an engagement for the lady. As (of course) 
 you will not give me credit for impartiality, I shall forbear in this 
 letter saying anything as to the merits of the one in question. If you 
 have any room for a second singer have the goodness to let me know, 
 and I will be more particular in my next. Her name is Jackson, a 
 pupil of Mr. Kelly; she has supported the first line of singing in the 
 
i 
 
 CHARLES MATHEWS. 99 
 
 York company. I think she would be useful if you have a vacancy, as 
 she is very young, and her appearance much in her favour. I do not 
 wish you to make any positive engagement until you are satisfied 
 whether she is worthy your notice. 1 make this early application, 
 fearing that if I delayed it your arrangements might preclude the 
 possibility of offering her a situation. 
 
 If you think it possible that you can make room for her, it will give 
 me great pleasure. 
 
 I am, sir, your obedient servant, C. Mathews. 
 
 It is scarcely necessary to explain that the announced bride in 
 the foregoing letter was the same person who only twelve- 
 months previously, at the bedside of her dying friend, implicitly 
 believed such an union impossible ! May it not be, as Shak- 
 speare has declared, that " Marriage comes of destiny ?'* I am 
 sometimes disposed to think so. 
 
 To John Litchfield, Esq. 
 
 York, Feb. 27tb, 1803. 
 
 Deae Jack, — Why don't you write ? Can you give me any infor- 
 mation about the Haymarket scheme ? Is it expected to succeed, or 
 are we country actors to be sacrificed in the speculation ? If it fails, I 
 do not know what is to become of us. Do you know any performers 
 engaged, that you have not given us in the Mirror ? Why does 
 Colman give his new comedy to Covent Garden ? He has not written 
 to me lately. Let me know, pray do. If this does not provoke him to 
 write, I know not what will. {Aside.) 
 
 By the by, I have taken half a sheet of paper to write to you, fearing 
 to swell the packet, and had almost forgot that I had something to 
 communicate to you of consequence. Then, to tell you a secret, which 
 I wish all the world to know, I am going to be married, and that very 
 shortly, too. Therefore write to me directly, and say you rejoice at it, 
 and wish me happy, or I shall think you are no friend to the married 
 state. I have not room to enter into particulars ; but say with Solus, 
 " She is my choice.'' Who ? you'll say. The first letter of her name 
 is Jackson, of Wilkinson's company, a pupil of Kelly : you have heard 
 of her before. I shall not enter into encomiums, as you will consider 
 me partial, and not think it good evidence. Besides, I have neither 
 time nor room to say any more. Give me your consent, that is all I 
 ask. Club with my father this week for a frank, and let me hear from 
 you. " Adieu, thou dreary pile." 
 
 , Yours ever most truly, C. Mathews. 
 
 n2 
 
100 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 Oeorge Colman at York — Tate Wilkinson's reception of him — The York per- 
 formers — Mr. Colraan's dramatic reading — Mr. Mathews's second marriage — 
 Wedding incidents — Miss De Camp — Mr. Colman' s letter to Mr. Mathews — 
 Parting interview between Mr. Mathews and Tate Wilkinson. 
 
 In March Mr. Colman, accompanied by his son, Captain George 
 Colman, arrived in York, probably induced by an anxiety to see 
 the actor he had taken upon trust, and to satisfy himself, as 
 he hoped to do, that his blind bargain was not likely to prove a 
 lame one. 
 
 Here commenced a friendship between Mr. Colman and my 
 husband, which never suffered a moment's interruption. During 
 Mr. Colman's stay in York, he and his son supped nightly with 
 the young actor at the close of the performance, and it would 
 have been difficult on these occasions, when they separated, to 
 determine which felt most pleased with the other ; so that when 
 the manager returned to London, he was prepared to welcome a 
 friend whom he had every expectation at the same time of 
 establishing as a favourite with the town. In short, he was 
 immediately impressed with Mr. Mathews's talents both on and 
 off the stage, and those who have experienced the fascination of 
 Mr. Colman's society may without difficulty understand how 
 completely he charmed his new acquaintance. Mr. Mathews's 
 application for an engagement for his intended wife was answered 
 with cordial kindness. He had taken his future manager to see 
 the young lady perform Harriet in " The Guardian," and she 
 was immediately engaged. 
 
 As might be expected, Mr. Wilkinson's gentlemanlike feeling 
 and hospitable habits were displayed on the arrival of this distin- 
 guished visitor, to whom, notwithstanding he came to rob him 
 of his trump card, he could not omit those attentions which a 
 resident is expected to offer to strangers. Although he was at 
 the time much more than usually an invalid, he requested Mr. 
 Colman and his son to dine with him every day during their 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 101 
 
 stay. On the first visit, there was scarcely more than a family 
 party, Mr. Mathews and Mr. Cummins being the only persons 
 invited to meet them ; and it was an early dinner, in order to 
 allow the two actors time to dress for their evening duties. Mr. 
 Colman, who was desirous of enlisting some more recruits for his 
 opening campaign, was naturally inquisitive as to who and what 
 he might expect to see during his short stay, and asked for the' 
 bill of fare for the evening, this being his first opportunity of 
 seeing the York performers. He was told that the play was to 
 be " The School for Scandal." The London manager was pleased 
 at this, and eagerly inquired what sort of a Charles they had, 
 for at the time he wanted a dashing actor in that line. His 
 attention was directed to a respectable gentleman who sat oppo- 
 site to him, who had mumbled his dinner, and whose well- 
 powdered head had a cauliflower appearance, and his face the 
 visible impress of sixty winters. " Mr. Cummins is the Charles,^* 
 said Tate. Mr. Cummins bowed to Mr. Colman with the pre- 
 cision of the old school, in confirmation of the manager's state- 
 ment. Mr. Colman started, bowed in return with an unnatural 
 grin of courtesy, and then took a pinch of snuff in nervous 
 haste. 
 
 After a short pause, however, being desirous to do away the 
 appearance of the embarrassed surprise he was too conscious of 
 having shown, Mr. Colman made inquiries as to the ladies of the 
 theatre. " Paul and Virginia" was mentioned as one of the: 
 novelties to be performed in the course of his visit, and he 
 caught at this information in order to ask who was to play; 
 Virginia (expecting, as he afterwards told Mr. Mathews, that 
 his intended wife, to whom he had been introduced in the 
 morning, would be named) ; but his attention was directed again 
 to one of the party present, and he was informed that " Mrs. 
 John," so Mrs. J. Wilkinson was always called, would personify 
 the youthful heroine. This lady was a bulky matron, who cer- 
 tainly had once been young, and still was handsome. Mr. Col- 
 man at the first glance again started, and again resorted to the 
 friendly aid of his snuff-box, now fairly thrown off his balance* 
 At length, turning round with something like an angry feeling, 
 in despair of finding much rising talent for his purpose, he 
 whispered, " Fore gad, Mathews, yours is a superannuated 
 company I" 
 
 It was on this occasion that we first had the delight of hearing' 
 Mr. Colman read. The comedy of "John Bull" was on the 
 point of being " got up" at York, and Tate requested as a favouti 
 
102 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 that the author would give the performers the advantage of his 
 instructions in their several characters, by reading the play in 
 the green-room. This indeed proved a treat : those who were 
 to act in the comedy, and those who were not, alike enjoyed it. 
 It is for those only who have experienced the delight of hearing 
 Mr. Colman read his dramatic productions, to guess the pleasure 
 with which his perfect representation of every character was 
 listened to by the performers, proving that one of the best 
 dramatists of his day might also have been one of the finest 
 actors. 
 
 The time now arrived when Mr. Mathews's feelings were to 
 be put to a very severe trial. He was again about to quit the 
 secure present for a doubtful future ; the numerous warm friends 
 which his private worth had drawn about him, an unprecedented 
 range of professional business, and last, but not least, the kind, 
 though eccentric Tate, to whom he found himself strongly 
 attached, and to whom he was grateful for a thousand acts of 
 kindness which that good old man was so much in the habit of 
 showing to the deserving. 
 
 Mr. Mathews's marriage was necessarily arranged to take 
 place prior to his leaving York, since it could not with propriety 
 be deferred till his arrival in London, his intended wife having 
 no protector up to town but himself. On the 28th of March, 
 therefore, the ceremony was solemnized by the Rev. Mr. Parker, 
 at St. Helen's church, York. 
 
 On this occasion some incidents occurred of rather an unusual 
 character. Mr. Denman, already mentioned, was requested to 
 act the part of father, and, as it is called, to give the bride away. 
 Unfortunately, he had been seized during the preceding night 
 with a severe fit of gout, but unwilling to disappoint his friend, 
 he determined not to acquaint him with his illness, but to pro- 
 ceed to the church at the appointed hour, at whatever risk, 
 in a sedan-chair, the obtaining of which at such short notice 
 occasioned a little delay. In the meantime, the bride and bride- 
 groom had, as arranged, reached the spot by different roads, in 
 order to give as little publicity to the occasion as possible, for 
 the young lady had discovered, to her infinite annoyance, that 
 instead of being married with a licence, she had been "asked" 
 for three successive Sundays in the parish churches of her own 
 and her future husband's respective dwellings — a process which 
 was cautiously kept from her at the time. Being under age, her 
 mother's approval was obtained, but this was rendered nugatory 
 by the absence of her husband from England, whose permission the 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. J 03 
 
 law also demanded. Thus, like Lydia Languish, the bride elect 
 had "lived to be called spinster,^^ and had been obHged to "ask the 
 consent of every butcher and baker in the parish" to her 
 marriage. It was settled that she should leave home with a 
 female friend, in her usual walking dress, and enter at a private 
 door of the church. Accordingly, when they arrived they found 
 the intended husband waiting to receive them, with the brides- 
 maid,* " clad in robes of virgin white, who absolutely started at 
 the first view of her friend's black silk spencer and beaver hat. 
 But the cause of this unusual dress was explained while they 
 waited for the arrival of the " father" (Mr. Denman). The 
 clergyman was already at the altar preparing for the ceremony, 
 when the principal entrance-door was thrown open, the sedan 
 admitted, and carried solemnly along the aisle of the church, by 
 two grave-looking chairmen, straight up to the foot of the altar. 
 The clergyman's looks expressed the amazement this apparition 
 naturally created, and the bridal party were totally unable to 
 account for it, until the vehicle was set down, and the head being 
 thrown back, Mr. Denman, with flanneled ankles and black cloth 
 shoes, was lifted up by the chairmen. His crutches, which had, 
 as it were, been looking out of the side- windows of the sedan as 
 it proceeded up the aisle, were carefully placed under his arms, 
 and there he stood resting upon them, with a countenance of 
 affected gaiety, and, as if unconscious of pain, his ample person 
 dressed in a light- coloured coat, of a mixture then in fashion, 
 called "pepper and salt." The rest of the party were beckoned 
 up by the clerk, and Miss De Camp promptly advanced, the 
 bridegroom hanging back with his intended upon his arm, in 
 order to recover a little from the fit of laughter which he had 
 vainly endeavoured to suppress, at the unexpected sight of his 
 friend in the sedan-chair. The clergyman glanced from Miss 
 De Camp's juvenile figure to that of Mr. Denman with great 
 severity, as if he would have said, " In your state, I think it 
 would have been more decent to have deferred the ceremony,'* 
 for he evidently mistook the young lady " all in white" for the 
 bride, she having previously placed herself close to the pepper 
 and salt of the supposed bridegroom. He nevertheless prepared 
 to commence the service, in order to unite the unmatched couple 
 who stood forward, when Mr. Mathews thought it high time to 
 assert his claim upon the reverend gentleman's office, and after 
 a little explanation and embarrassment on all sides, the whitQ 
 
 * Miss Adelaide De Camp, sister to Mrs. Charles Kemble. 
 
104j the life and correspondence of 
 
 lady and he of the sedan took their proper positions, the destined 
 couple stood forward, and the irrevocable knot was tied. 
 
 In the meantime the defrauded " public," who had got an 
 inkling of what was going on, resented their exclusion from the 
 churc)\ by surrounding the doors just as the ceremony was con- 
 cluded, determined to witness the exit of the parties. This 
 determination the chairmen communicated to their fare, when 
 summoned by the clerk to remove Mr. Denman, who, though 
 well seasoned, as he might be supposed to be from the united 
 qualities of his dress, was nevertheless afraid of the coldness of 
 the church in his precarious state of health, and suffered himself 
 to be borne through the crowd in his sedan, having first under- 
 taken to send a carriage for the quartette he left behind, who 
 were too bashful to think of walking through the mob of gazers 
 assembled to witness the first appearance of the young couple in 
 their new characters, without paying. Mr. Denman was carried 
 along amidst shouts of merriment from the people collected, 
 which the poor gouty man was obliged to take in good part, 
 affecting good humour and unconcern. Shortly afterwards a 
 chaise drew up to the church-door, and four "precious souls 
 agog" scrambled into it as fast as they could, and were driven one 
 door round the corner, to their destined shelter, the crowd from 
 St. Helen's-square and the private entrance arriving at the same 
 moment to see them alight. 
 
 Thus it seems as if one of the most serious events of Mr. 
 Mathews's life must necessarily be attended by something 
 comic. 
 
 To Charles Mathews, Esq., Theatre Royal, York. 
 
 London, April 30th. 
 
 Dear Mathews, — I send you a hasty scrawl to put your mind at 
 ease. I am most fully sensible that you are anxious to be just to all 
 parties ; therefore do not permit any qualms of conscience (on my 
 account) to embarrass you while you are making your public bow tp 
 the good folks at York on the 7th May. The sooner, however, you 
 can be with me, after that period, the better for our mutual interests. 
 Write me a line by return of post, to say if I may hope to see you on 
 the 10th. We can settle nothing (relative to your debut) till we meet; 
 and be assured that I will press nothing upon you that is repugnant to 
 your feelings. Make my compliments to Mrs. Mathews. George 
 sends his remembrances to you, and begs me to assure you, spite of 
 your calumnies, that he has not been drunk above seven nights in the 
 week since we parted from you at Tadcaster. Adieu. Kely on my 
 being warmly interested in your success in London. 
 
 And believe me, sincerely yours, G. CoLMAN, 
 
 P.S. — Don't tak® '^ff' Suett again till we meet. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 103 
 
 The parting interview between Tate and his young friends 
 was affecting. The manager was exceedingly ill, scarcely able 
 indeed to bear the presence of any one ; and when Mr. Mathews 
 expressed a hope that he would soon be better, he checked him, 
 saying, " Do not hope it ; it is unkind to wish me to live in 
 pain, and unable to feel enjoyment. No, my children ; I do not 
 wish to live. I should like to stay oyer the August race-week 
 to see my old friend Fawcett, and hear how the audience receive 
 their former favourite, and then I shall be content to die."* 
 
 The dear old man then shook Mr. Mathews affectionately by 
 the hand, calling back his " grandchild," as he often called me, 
 to kiss him once more, and, as he prophetically said, " for the 
 last time." 
 
 * It is remarkable that his wish was granted exactly as he expressed it, as 
 will be seen by a letter in its proper place. 
 
K)6 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Arrival in London of Mr. Mathews and his yoting wife — Their reception at the 
 paternal home — Gloom of the house — Removal to Manchester-street — Old 
 Mr. Mathews listening to his son's songs and stories — Mr. Mathews's first 
 appearance in London — Anecdote of Mr. Cumberland — Letter from Tate 
 Wilkinson — Mr. Mathews's success in *' Love Laughs at Locksmiths" — His 
 Mr. Wiggins — His engagement at Liverpool — Letter from Mr. Lewis — His 
 prediction — Birth of Mr. Mathews's son. 
 
 Ois" our arrival in London in May I entered the abode of my 
 husband's serious relations with some trepidation, remembering 
 their self-congratulations on their son's first marriage, that he 
 had escaped falling into the dreaded fangs of one belonging to 
 the proscribed class in which he had enrolled himself. This 
 alarm was, however, speedily dissipated by my first encounter 
 with my husband's family. His young sister, a well-educated 
 and lively girl, immediately became attached to me. His 
 mother also, a gentlewoman in ideas, deportment and language, 
 and the benevolent old man who might have suggested to Gold- 
 smith his " Vicar of Wakefield," treated me with great kindness. 
 According to my idea of Parson Adams, Mr. Mathews's father 
 was a personification of the character ; guileless as sensible, he 
 was an image of simplicity and goodness. 
 
 The house had a very sombre appearance. I recollect that 
 my spirit quailed when I first entered the drawing-room. The 
 wainscot everywhere was completely covered with small oval 
 frames of ebony, surrounding engraved portraits of saints — 
 *' Great (indeed) was the company of the preachers." All 
 gloomy and dark, they seemed by their presence to forbid any 
 approach to gaiety, and frowned disapprovingly upon all laughter. 
 "With the exception of the dado of the room, not an inch was 
 spared by these worthies for anything besides. No sinful 
 mirrors relieved the aching sight ; no ornaments but those of 
 the conventicle met the eye. Even the light summer attire of 
 youth seemed unnatural, if not offensive, in such a place, and 
 out of keeping, as a painter would have said, with the scene ; 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 107 
 
 yet these worthy people had no gloom in their hearts. I have 
 often laughed since with Mr. Mathews at the recollection of his 
 father's gallery of pulpit-jjerformers, and amused myself to see 
 the similar propensity in the son to collect portraits of pro- 
 fessional stars, though in another line. 
 
 As soon as the opening of the Haymarket drew near, Mr, 
 Mathews removed to a pleasant lodging in Manchester-street, 
 Manchester-square, for, of course, we could not then accommo- 
 date our hours to tho^e of his father and mother. We could 
 neither have eaten nor prayed at their time. During our stay 
 with them we all knelt down together, before and after every 
 meal, while old Mr. Mathews pronounced a lengthened prayer, 
 and before bedtime, of course, all the household were present. 
 
 Although we removed from the Strand, I was almost daily 
 with the family, and perfectly happy with them. This made 
 my husband very comfortable ; and his liberal father, although 
 he would not see his son act, was most anxious, " since he had 
 embraced such a profession," that he should prosecute it with as 
 much credit and success as possible. He would allow — nay, 
 invite — his son to give him " a taste of his quality," and com- 
 placently listen to his songs and stories, now and then laughing 
 till tears poured down his face ; his wife was equally delighted. 
 My husband had once drawn from him his slow consent to go 
 to a private box at the Haymarket to see him represent Mr. 
 Wiggins, in which character his face, when made up, so much 
 resembled that of his father ; but somehow at the eleventh hour 
 he repented — consistency triumphed over inclination — so that 
 he never saw his son perform. Mrs. Mathews would, I am sure, 
 have gone ; but, out of respect to her husband's opinion, she and 
 her daughter abstained from visiting the theatre. 
 
 On the 15th May Mr. Mathews made his first appearance 
 in London at the Haymarket Theatre, in the characters of Jahel 
 in " The Jew," and Lingo in " The Agreeable Surprise," with 
 the most unqualified success.* The account of his acting, given 
 in one of the newspapers of the following day (all of which 
 praised him highly), stated that when he was encored in his 
 songs he produced a laughable alteration in the last verse on 
 repetition, which caused much merriment. This was a novelty 
 then, but every one will remember with what effect he made 
 such variations in after years when encored. On the following 
 night their Majesties George 111. and Queen Charlotte, and the 
 
 * He took his farewell in York, in the character of Proteus, in * ' Family 
 Quarrels," and Eal^h^ iu " Lock and Key." 
 
108 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 five princesses and suite, were present to a repetition (by com- 
 mand) of the first night's periormances, which went off with 
 increased effect. 
 
 The following is a characteristic anecdote of the author of 
 " The Jew." Mr. Cumberland was always remarkable for his 
 fastidious feelings about the performance of any of his charac- 
 ters ; and at the same time for his courteous desire to compli- 
 ment everybody as much as was possible. He had been attracted 
 by the novelty of a play of his acted in London by a company 
 made up entirely of provincial performers, and at the dropping 
 of the curtain came round to the green-room, being desirous to 
 express his approbation of what he had witnessed. Elliston re- 
 ceived what was due to his really beautiful representation of 
 Sheva; and the Jabel of the night entering the room, dressed 
 for the after piece, was by Mr. Cumberland's desire presented to^ 
 him. He delighted the young comedian, by assuring him that 
 the part had never been better played ; and that in figure, dress, 
 and acting, he was the very thing he (the author) had intended. 
 " I wrote the part, and ought to know — it was perfect. I as- 
 sure you, sir, I never was more gratified ; but" (with irrepres- 
 sible irritation^ " you spoke so low, I couldn't hear a word you 
 said." 
 
 Immediately after his appearance at the Haymarket Theatre, 
 Mr. Mathews naturally made his old manager acquainted with 
 the result ; and, in the plenitude of his satisfaction, described 
 his success exultingly, and probably in very animated language. 
 In reply, he received from Tate Wilkinson the following letter, 
 the last he ever wrote to him. 
 
 Mr. Mathews, SaymarTcet, London. 
 
 Dear Sir, — I am truly pleased at your success, and think it a feather 
 in the cap of the York company. But you write to me as easily as if 
 I was in a recovered state : instead of that, this is a violent fatigue. 
 I had nearly 90Z. Monday night, at Leeds ; but I am not equal to be 
 pleased, or to eat anything — am worse than ever. Your letter is now 
 before me. I cannot get through it ; yet you write to me as if I was 
 as gay as yourself. I want not to see any July Richards or Octavians :; 
 not but tell Mr. Elliston if he can come on the 7th Sunday of Trinity] 
 I shall be glad to see him. Tell him to write by return. He can plaji 
 in London on Monday, August 12. Have no strength or time for thd 
 comp". Am wishing good health. ' 
 
 Yours in great pain, Tate Wilkinson.* 
 
 P.S. — This a great fatigue and pain to me. 
 
 * Tate Wilkinson died on 25tli August, 1803. 
 
G-. 11. iraiian\ fUuX. 
 
 ¥ MI jv. T M ]E W S ■ 
 
 J^CJJi'lj JjMJiJVjLY:- M^- iriuUlK:^.- A iJliUA'KLy u3J:L.i 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 109 
 
 Mr. Mathews's success during the season continued evenly, 
 until Arthur Griffinhoofe (alias George Colman) produced his 
 " Love Laughs at Locksmiths," in which Mr. Mathews, in his 
 first original part, Bisk, produced a very great effect. The song 
 of " The Farm Yard" introduced to the notice of the town his 
 imitative talents in one form, and the change of appearance in 
 the second act, and his song of " Unfortunate Miss Bailey," at 
 once established the dependence of the public upon his powers, 
 and made him the favourite he never ceased to be. Bisk may 
 be recorded as his first great part, written for him ; all characters 
 besides, at least for many years, were in fact mere outlines left 
 for him to fill up by dint of his genius by authors who felt it 
 necessary to write words for others. One of his most popular 
 characters, Buskin, in " Killing no Murder," was almost all his 
 own, except the situations, and where he had to give cues to 
 the good things set down for that pet with all comic authors, 
 Mr. Liston. 
 
 His next new character of weight this season, was Mr. Wig- 
 gins, "a gross fat man," in the farce called "Mrs. Wiggins," 
 which succeeded so far as his performance went, and was for his 
 sake often represented, though the piece was certainly weak. 
 His dress and face in this part were admirable, as well as his 
 acting ; and were introduced by Harlovve into his painting of 
 Mr. Mathews in five characters, now in the collection of the 
 Garrick Club, with the rest of Mr. Mathews's theatrical 
 gallery. 
 
 At the close of the Haymarket season, Mr. Mathews en- 
 tered into an engagement with Mr. Colman for the three fol- 
 lowing seasons ; a conclusive evidence, it may be supposed, of 
 his success in London. In the autumn, he proceeded to join 
 the Liverpool company for the ensuing winter, at a large salary 
 for a provincial theatre. It was then the property of Messrs. 
 Lewis and Knight ; the Lewis of merry memory, and Mr. Knight 
 (not " Little Knight"), the then popular performer, also a prin- 
 cipal actor at Covent Garden, and the originial Farmer Ashjield, 
 in " Speed the Plough." In this piece Mr. Knight introduced 
 the Somersetshire dialect with great effect, which was, I believe, 
 banished from the stage by the more humorous dialect of York- 
 shire, which Emery made so popular, and left as a sort of legacy 
 to all succeeding actors of countrymen. 
 
 The following letter from Mr. Lewis will show the estimation 
 in which Mr. Mathews's talent, even at this early period of his 
 London reputation, was held, not only by the public, but by 
 first-rate professors. 
 
110 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 To Cliarles Mathews, Esq. 
 
 Liverpool, 17th August, 1803. 
 Deae Sib, — I had the favour of your letter, and am happy to be 
 aided by such merit as yours. I have the book and music of " Love 
 Laughs at Locksmiths," but will certainly retain it till you come here. 
 If "Mrs. Wiggins" is printed, I wish you would desire Mr. Hill, our 
 copyist, to send a book down, and I will have it ready against yoiir 
 arrival. 
 
 The time in which you would, be most desirable to me would be on 
 Friday, the 9th of September, and the whole of the following week, 
 but I fear there is little chance of so desirable an event. On the 19tli 
 of September Braham and Storace make their first appearance, and I 
 should very much wish you to be in most of their operas — "The 
 Cabinet," " Castle of Andalusia," "Family Quarrels," "Siege of Bel- 
 grade," "Haunted Tower," <fec. "No Song," &c. "Grandmother," 
 " Prize," &c. 
 
 With good wishes, I am, dear sir, your obedient servant, 
 
 W". Tho«. Lewis. 
 
 It would be of essential consequence if you could play here (no 
 matter in what) on Saturday, 17th of September ; and perhaps Colman 
 w^ould for once indulge you by leaving you out a night, which would 
 enable you to do so. 
 
 It is rather curious that Mr. Lewis predicted that Mr. Ma- 
 thews would some day be a favourite in London, in the same 
 line of characters which that great comedian then sustained in 
 so unrivalled a manner. He was performing his original part of 
 Tom Shvffleton in "John Bull," and observed to my husband, 
 that it was a part he should undertake, adding, " It is my opinion 
 that it is in your line, and when I am gone, you'll find it out, 
 and be my successor in eccentric comedy." At the time this 
 was said, Mr. Mathews had not an idea that he could possibly- 
 present himself in such a part, his acting being confined to old 
 men, countrymen, and quaint low comedy ; he was in fact ex- 
 ceedingly amused at such a prediction, and repeated it as a good 
 jest. In a few years afterwards, however, he found himself sus- 
 taining with great effect Goldfinch, Bover, and other characters 
 of the same cast, a line of acting which he probably would have 
 pursued, had not a serious accident checked his efforts, and in 
 his own opinion rendered him altogether unfit for the drama. 
 
 At the end of December in this year, a letter from my hus- 
 band to his friend Mr. Litchfield announced an event which it 
 will be seen gave him at the time a new delight, and continued 
 ever after, without a single drawback, to afford him the greatest 
 happiness. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. Ill 
 
 To John ZiUcli field, Esq. 
 
 Liverpool, December 27th, 1803. 
 
 Deab Jack, — It is with the most exquisite pleasure I inform you 
 that I am the father of a fine boy, at least so says the nurse, who would 
 fain persuade me he is something uncommon. However, both mother 
 and child, thank God, are extremely well, and, to go beyond the usual 
 phrase, better than could be expected. My feelings on this occasion 
 you may judge of, for as my fear and anxiety during the suspense of 
 yesterday were severe, so is the joy I feel at the sight of my child, and 
 safety of my beloved wife, infinitely more delightful than any other 
 sensation I ever experienced. 
 
 I am happy beyond measure, — " who would not be a father ?" You 
 will perceive, by the size of the paper, that I did mean to write a long 
 letter, but I am sure you will excuse me. I have several letters to 
 write to-day, you may suppose; think of my parental feelings! You 
 will allow that this letter is written in a happy style. I am much 
 gratified by your account of " Love laughs ;" it is another proof of the 
 great value of original parts. Eemember me most kindly to Mrs. 
 Litchfield. 
 
 Yours ever, Chaeles Mathews. 
 
 Mr. Mathews's father and mother were highly delighted at 
 the birth of their first grandchild, and heartily welcomed the 
 little stranger. As a postscript to his daughter's congratulations, 
 the grandfather added the following lines. 
 
 My dear Chables, — Give my love to dear Anne, and tell her I am 
 happy at her safety. I wish, but not dictate, that you would name 
 the child either by your own name or mine, or both, but not William, 
 lest it might excite your mother's grief. 
 
 Yours, dear Charles, J. Mathews. 
 
 Without hesitation "Charles James" was decided upon, and 
 the tiny possessor of these names was promised to the church, if 
 he inclined to that profession on attaining an age to choose for 
 himself. The announcement of this intention was received by 
 my husband's parents with gratified feeling, but with no rigid 
 dependence upon an event which rested with the young man 
 himself, who was enjoined, through us, not to enter upon such a 
 profession unwillingly ; his grandfather adding, " That he might 
 be a good man without being a clergyman ; but to force him to 
 be a clergyman might tend to make him a bad man." 
 
112 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 Re-opening of the Haymarket Theatre— Mr. Bannister, Jun. — Illness of Mr. 
 Mathews's father — First appearance of Mr. Mathews at Drury-lane Theatre 
 — Mr. Sheridan reading the part of Sir Peter Teazle — *' School for 
 Friends" — Mr. Mathews's retentive memory — His introduction to *' Ana- 
 creon Moore" — Mr. Raymond's proposal to Mr. Mathews to turn book- 
 auctioneer. 
 
 At the accustomed period in 1804 the Haymarket Theatre re- 
 opened, with the addition of Mr. Bannister, jun. (as he was then 
 distinguished, his father being still alive), Mr. Colman having 
 previously assured Mr. Mathews that this engagement should 
 not interfere with him ; but that he felt it necessary, from the 
 general weakness of his new company, to obtain an additional 
 prop to support it. Mr. Colman kept his word ; and, to prove 
 that there was no falling off in his attraction with the town in 
 consequence, the following observations in one of the leading 
 journals appeared (after the production of one of the novelties of 
 the season, " Guilty or Not Guilty "). 
 
 Of the actors, Mathews must be placed in the foremost rank. To 
 the character of Triavgle he did more justice than any actor of the 
 day could have done; he was less flippant in his manner than Fawcett 
 — equally natural with Bannister — less laboured than Munden and 
 with a felicity of countenance that predisposed the audience to mirth 
 before he opened his lips. 
 
 His second season, indeed, served only to increase his popu- 
 larity. He fairly shared with Mr. Bannister the applause of 
 each night ; and in every new piece was pointedly considered 
 both by manager and audience. 
 
 So rapidly did Mr. Mathews's popularity increase, that an 
 offer was made him by the proprietors of Drury-lane Theatre 
 in the course of the summer for the ensuing season. With all 
 the delicate secrecy that the intimation required, he was told 
 that he was engaged with the view of his becoming the suc- 
 cessor of Mr. Suett, whose health was precarious, and the 
 duration of whose professional powers was consequently un- 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 113 
 
 certain. Mr. Mathews signed an engagement for himself and 
 his wife for five years. 
 
 During this summer the health of Mr. Mathews's father 
 rapidly declined, and towards its close he was so strongly im- 
 pressed with his approaching dissolution, that he summoned my 
 husband to his cottage at Whetstone. A most affecting scene 
 followed. This good man felt at peace within himself; he 
 grieved only for those whom he saw lamenting at the thought of 
 parting from him. Entertaining a blessed hope of future 
 happiness himself, he desired to leave all he loved on earth in 
 that peace and goodwill towards each other that he had 
 throughout practised. He desired to read his will to his 
 family, and to be assured that no heart-burnings or discontent 
 would follow the distribution of his estate. It may be imagined 
 that his liberality and the many calls of his brethren precluded 
 his leaving any considerable property. He bespoke my husband's 
 indulgence for having divided a certain portion equally between 
 him and his sister. This might, he said, be thought as unjust 
 as it was irregular ; but he appealed to his son's generosity not 
 to consider it as a proof of unkindness, but as a result of his 
 reflection that, as his daughter was unmarried, and might 
 possibly be soon unprotected, upon the loss of her mother, who 
 had been a great invalid for years, she would require more than 
 he should otherwise have left her ; while his son appeared rapidly 
 rising into easy circumstances, and probably would soon find 
 even the moiety that was intended for him of little moment.* 
 It need not be added, that Mr. Mathews declared himself 
 perfectly contented with his father's intended disposition of his 
 property. After this the good old man seemed to be better ; 
 and though he continued ill, his son hoped that the final blow 
 might yet be averted for a time. 
 
 The autumn arrived, and with it my husband's first appear- 
 ance at Drury-lane Theatre, on the 17th of September, in the 
 arduous character of Don Manuel^ in " She would and She 
 would not." 
 
 Theatre Royal Drury-lane, Sept. 17th, 1804. 
 
 Last night the lively comedy of " She would and She would not," 
 was performed at this house. The chief novelty was the entree of Mr. 
 Mathews in the part of Don Manuel. After gaining a high degree of 
 provincial reputation, this gentleman was engaged by Mr. Col man, and 
 has acted with great applause for two seasons at the Hay market. He 
 is certainly well entitled to a situation at one of the winter theatres. 
 
 • This moiety my husband never claimed. 
 
 I 
 
114 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 'I'esty, fond, doting old men, starved lacqueys, starch sectarians, and 
 divers other eccentric characters, find in him a very humorous repre- 
 sentative. He has the rare merit among comedians of this cast, always 
 to be consistent with his assumed character. If he be a Quaker, he 
 does not smoke his own primness. If he act the hoary lover, he does 
 not seem sensible that he is making himself ridiculous. He is perfectly 
 free from grimace and extravagance. He chose Don Manuel very 
 judiciously for his debut on these boards, as it affords ample scope for a 
 display of his peculiar powers. He went through the part very suc- 
 cessfully, but was more particularly happy in the scene when he thinks 
 that all his cares are over by the marriage of his daughter with the 
 pretended Don Philip. The manner in which he dandled his pocket- 
 handkerchief, as his future grandson to spring from the union of the 
 two females, convulsed the audience for several minutes. His reception 
 was flattering in the extreme. 
 
 The melancholy event of his father's death precluding a 
 second appearance in the character which he pla3^ed the first 
 night, Mr. Mathews was compelled to perform, on the 11th of 
 October, Sir Feter Teazle, in " The School for Scandal ;" for 
 little leisure was allowed to him for the indulgence of sorrow — 
 an actor's private feelings (happily perhaps) are required to be 
 merged in his public duties. Sheridan's* celebrated comedy 
 was to introduce to the town that charming actress, Miss 
 Dun can, t from the Theatre Royal, York, in Lady Teazle. Mr. 
 Sheridan, then proprietor of Drury-lane Theatre, expressed his 
 desire to Mr. Mathews that he would allow the author to read 
 the character to him, and give his idea of the manner he, Mr. 
 Sheridan, thought that Sir Feter should be acted. 
 
 Mr. Mathews had many misgivings on this subject, and most 
 embarrassing it proved in the result ; for so totally unlike was 
 Mr. Sheridan's reading of the character from every other con- 
 ception of it, that it was next to impossible for the actor to 
 adopt any one of his suggestions. Had it not been known that 
 Mr. Sheridan was the author of the play, it would have been 
 
 * Richard Brinsley Sheridan, statesman, wit, and dramatist, born in Dublin 
 in 1751, and educated at Harrow, author of " The Rivals," *' The Duenna," 
 *' The Trip to Scarborough," " The Critic," and " The School for Scandal," 
 the two last being pronounced by Lord Byron to be respectively the best farce 
 and the best comedy ever produced on the English stage. Sat in Parliament 
 as member for Stafford, Westminster, and Ilchester. He was a most gifted 
 orator, and his speeches on the trial of Warren Hastings are still quoted as 
 models of eloquence. Dissipation and extravagance brought him to ruin, and 
 he died in debt and misery in 1816. 
 
 t Afterwards Mrs. Davison, a most admirable actress and excellent woman, 
 who died during the past year. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 115 
 
 difficult to credit his acquaintance with the part in question. 
 The consequence may be anticipated. When the night came, 
 Mr. Sheridan was dissatisfied with Mr. Mathews's performance 
 (as it was said in the green-room he had been with every pre- 
 vious representative of it, including King the original), and 
 after the second night Mr. Wroughton resumed the part, taken 
 from him by Mr. Sheridan's desire, and given to Mr. Mathews. 
 Mr. Sheridan grumbled with Mr. Wroughton's performance 
 when the play ended as much as he had done at that of Mr. 
 Mathews. Notwithstanding this vexation, all went on smoothly 
 when it was over; and Mr. Sheridan, in every instance but 
 where the feelings of authorship misled him, was a great 
 admirer of Mr. Mathews, and courted his society to the end of 
 his life. 
 
 It was not to be expected that Mr. Mathews could be con- 
 stantly employed at Drury-lane, for Mr. Suett still lived, and 
 Mr. Bannister engrossed almost every character that was suit- 
 able for the young actor. He was content to wait "his hour," 
 and good-humouredly did his best with the worst that was 
 offered to him. A new comedy, written by Miss Chambers, 
 called " The School for Friends," was about this time put in 
 rehearsal, and at length advertised for a certain night, but had 
 been postponed from time to time on account of Mr. Bannister's 
 protracted indisposition, who, from increased illness, at the 
 eleventh hour failed them. Mr. Mathews was requested to 
 study the part (a very long one) thus resigned by Mr. Bannister, 
 and, to the surprise of the manager, undertook to be ready by 
 the following evening, for which purpose he remained up all 
 night, and went the next morning to his single rehearsal perfect 
 to a letter. The surprise of everybody was great, for he could 
 not even be suspected of knowing anything of the play, not 
 having seen any part of it till his task was given to him.* 
 
 Mr. Mathews's study was always remarkably quick, and, con- 
 trary to the general result in such cases, his retention of what 
 he had learnt was as remarkable as his rapidity in acquiring it. 
 I have known him, without referring to the book, perform a 
 character which he had neither acted nor read for fifteen years. 
 
 On one occasion he undertook, at the English Opera-house, 
 to perform his previous entertainments successively during the 
 season. One night, not having looked at the bill, he totally 
 
 * Matthew Daw was a Quaker, and his performance of the character was a 
 great favourite with the town throughout the run of the play. 
 
 i2 
 
116 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 forgot, at the very instant he was about to commence at the 
 table, what he had advertised himself for that night, and, after 
 a moment's embarrassment, he left the stage in order to ascertain 
 which of his performances he was expected to deliver. Having 
 inquired, he immediately returned, and proceeded without the 
 slightest difficulty to the end. 
 
 In his " At Homes," although they were partially derived 
 from his own observations, 3'et not only the links to the cha- 
 racters, but certain matters supplied by his authors from their 
 own fancy, required much study ; yet, during the sixteen years 
 that he presented himself in successive seasons at that table, he 
 never had a prompter, nor ever once took with him to the 
 theatre a single memorandum or note of the night's entertain- 
 ment. Even while acting in the regular drama he could never 
 bear to be prompted, and any attempt to do so would have in- 
 creased his embarrassment had he been imperfect. I remember 
 an instance in proof of this. Early in his London engagement 
 at the Haymarket he had to perform Caleb Quotem, in " The 
 Wags of Windsor." On his first appearance on the stage, 
 instead of the usual address, he bowed to Mr. Farley, who per- 
 formed Captain Beaugard^ and, after a minute's pause, said to 
 him, " My name, sir, is Lingo.'" Mr. Farley, quite thrown off 
 his guard by this extraordinary lapse in the actor's memory, 
 exclaimed quickly, " The devil it is!" The audience laughed, 
 and Mr. Mathews was in his turn puzzled. The prompter and 
 the performers endeavoured to convey the right speech ; but 
 they tried in vain to " give him the word," as it is called. He 
 could not profit by their efforts, and was altogether at a loss. 
 At length his own recollection returned, and he proceeded with 
 his usual volubility and correctness. As Mr. Mathews never 
 was in the most trifling degree addicted to the poisoned cup, 
 this was remarkable. He could never account for it, for he was 
 not at all in a nervous state, and this was the only occasion 
 upon which such an accident occurred during his professional life. 
 
 He never performed his " At Homes" so well when I was 
 present, from the fact of my being acquainted in a general way 
 with the matter he was delivering. It made him nervous to see 
 anybody listening to him who had the power to correct a 
 mistake. 
 
 In the October of this year Mr. Mathews again came forward 
 as a substitute for Mr. Collins,* who was taken suddenly ill ; 
 
 * A very clever actor, who died early. He was the original Mode 
 Duke, in **The Honeymoon," and previously, Timothy Quaint, in "The 
 Soldier's Daughter." 
 
CHAKLES MATHEWS. 117 
 
 and the part of Bohin, in " The Prior Claim," was announced to 
 the audience to have been " undertaken by Mr. Mathews from 
 four o'clock the same afternoon, witli his usual alacrity." 
 
 All this, however, was wearing away his first hopes : and at 
 length he became weary with waiting only to take the place of 
 the sick, or for " dead men's shoes." Suett's would have fitted 
 him, but in the meantime he went barefoot, and sorely gravelled 
 he was in consequence. He looked forward, however, to the 
 time when " the dear little Hay market" would once more open 
 its merry doors, and there at least he had a set-off to the annoy- 
 ance of being put in the background at Drury. 
 
 During our first or second year in London we met Mr. Thomas 
 Moore, for the first time, at the house of Mr. Raymond the 
 actor. Mr. Mathews was in high spirits, and, being charmed 
 with Mr. Moore, did all he could to render himself agreeable, 
 in return for the pleasure he received. He was, in fact (to use 
 a phrase he employed upon such occasions), " upon his mettle" 
 before such a man; and Mr. Raymond, who dexterously drew 
 him forth to great advantage, was so struck with his power and 
 imagination in some of his representations, that the next day 
 he came to him with a project which he had formed after his 
 guest's departure, suggested, he said, by the discovery of the 
 very peculiar talent Mr. Mathews had displayed. Mr. Eaymond 
 then proposed to commence book-auctioneer, as far as capital 
 went, and that Mr. Mathews should sell the works. In the 
 event of his consenting to the proposal, Mr. Raymond pledged 
 himself to pay him 500/. annually ; or, if he preferred it, to give 
 him an equal share in the profits arising from each sale. 
 
 So sanguine, indeed, was the projector of this singular specu- 
 lation, that, I believe, had Mr. Mathews encouraged it, Mr. 
 Raymond would have doubled the temptation. My husband, I 
 remember, urged as one of his scruples, that the moment he 
 should be required to stand up alone before a crowd, " the ob- 
 served of all observers," his confidence and powers would utterly 
 forsake him. Little then did he anticipate with what effect he 
 should one day, " singly and alone," confront thousands of spec- 
 tators, and chain them together for hours by the force of his 
 extraordinary genius. 
 
 After this proposal, a sale of some of Mr. King's stage " pro- 
 perties," as they are called — namely, his Lord Ogleby's snuff- 
 boxes and cane, with other dramatic valuables, was proposed in 
 the theatre amongst the performers, for the benefit of his widow, 
 when Mr. Mathews, in jest, proposed to become the auctioneer, 
 
118 THE LIFK AND CORBESPONDENCE OF 
 
 and to sell them upon the stage to his brethren. This jest was 
 turned into earnest by his being unanimously elected to the 
 post. The chair belonging to Careless^ in " The School for 
 Scandal," was dragged forth, and the auctioneer pro tern, dis- 
 posed of the articles on terms far exceeding the expected sum, 
 and with such effect upon all present, that again poor Mr. Eay- 
 mond's " soul was in arms, and eager for the" sale. Again he 
 was denied. It was not to be. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 119 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Mr. Theodore Hook's farce of " Catch him who can" — Letter from Mr. Colman 
 to Mr. Mathews — Ventriloquy — Letter from Mr. Young to Mr. Mathews — 
 Mr. Mathews meets with a severe accident — His re-appearance at Drury- 
 lane Theatre — Mr. Mathews's first attempt to perform an " Entertainment" 
 — Mr. James Smith and his letter — Albinia, Countess of Buckinghamshire — 
 Mr. Abraham (xoldsmidt — Mr, Mathews's introduction to the Prince of 
 Wales — The actors' dinner to Mr. Sheridan — Mr. Theodore Hook's extempo- 
 raneous singing — Letters from Mr. Sheridan and Mr. Colman to Mr. 
 Mathews — " Twig Hall" — Mr. Liston — Miss Mellon (afterwards Duchess of 
 St. Albans). 
 
 In the course of this or the following season, the farce of " Catch 
 him who can," written by Mr. Theodore Hook, for the purpose 
 of bringing in juxtaposition the talents of Mr. Liston and Mr. 
 Mathews, was produced at the Haymarket Theatre- with suc- 
 cess. 
 
 By the following letter it will be seen that Mr. Mathews 
 continued on good terms with the manager of the Haymarket 
 Theatre, as well as with the public. I cannot remember on 
 what occasion he first ventured his ventriloquy before a London 
 audience (probably on his own benefit night), but it is evident 
 that it was a successful efTort, and considered attractive to the 
 theatre. 
 
 26th August, 1806. 
 
 My deae Mathews, — I am dreadfully gravelled on this conclusion 
 of the season for want of new matter; and, as it is occasioned in some 
 measure from the dulness of my own muse (which has shirked me in 
 my efforts to finish my farce), I feel that I owe the more to my 
 partners to do all that can be done during the remainder of our term. 
 Will you, under these circumstances, repeat your ventriloquy on 
 Saturday ? As I am thrown out of the intended play, it will be of 
 service. 
 
 Truly yours, G. Colman. 
 ■ To Charles Mathews, Esq. 
 
 Anxious as my husband had long been to get his friend Mr. 
 Young once more side by side with him, he was nevertheless 
 
120 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 thwarted in all his hopes. Mr. Young married, soon after we 
 left him at Liverpool, a lovely, amiable, and accomplished crea- 
 ture (Miss Julia Grimani). This lady died ten months after 
 their union, leaving a newly-born infant, at once to point out to 
 her husband the cause of his sorrow, and, after a time, to prove 
 an alleviation to it. At length we had the pleasure of perceiv- 
 ing that our friend had so far regained his natural buoyancy 
 as to feel once more a lively interest in his profession, and to 
 look upon his child's welfare as a source of future consolation. 
 
 Soon after this, Mr. Young finally came to terms for the en- 
 suing season with Mr. Colman, and made his first appearance in 
 London at the Haymarket Theatre, in " Hamlet," with a suc- 
 cess which his subsequent career justified. 
 
 During the Drury-lane season of this year, Mr. Mathews met 
 with an accident at a match of pigeon-shooting ; an amusement 
 of which he often partook as an excuse, I verily believe, for 
 spending the day out of town ; the sport always taking place on 
 Barnet Common, the neighbourhood of his early pleasures and 
 most endeared associations. The accident was thus announced 
 in the newspapers : — 
 
 We are sorry to hear that Mr. Mathews, the actor, has severely 
 suffered by the bursting of a fowling-piece on Friday afternoon, when 
 he was tempted to engage in a match at pigeon-shooting, near Barnet. 
 His left hand has been much injured by this unfortunate accident, and 
 his whole frame has received a very severe shock. A similar accident 
 xiccurred a few years ago to Mr. Bannister. 
 
 He returned home at eleven o'clock at night, with his arm in 
 a sling, and though he was obliged to own that he had hurt his 
 hand during the day's amusement, I was not aware till the next 
 morning, when the surgeon who had attended him immediately 
 after the accident came to dress it, that anything serious had 
 occurred. He would not distress me, and in order that his pallid 
 face might not shock me, he had walked for a short time in the 
 street where we lived, imitating a mail-coach horn ; his usual 
 manner of announcing his safe return home after a short ab- 
 -sence, if at a time and place where he could do it without being 
 observed. 
 
 This accident proved very severe, and he remained under the 
 surgeon's care longer than was at first expected. A new comedy 
 by Mr. Kenney, then in preparation, in which Mr. Mathews was 
 required to perform a principal part, was in consequence post- 
 poned. At this time, while he was recovering from his accident, 
 apiece called "The Blind Boy" had made its appearance at 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 121 
 
 Covent Garden, with great eclat, and he felt very desirous of 
 seeing it ; but, as there would have been an obvious impropriety 
 in being seen at a public place while he was supposed to be, and 
 was in reality, unable to act (for, although he was quite well in 
 other respects, he was unable yet to take l4,is hand out of a sling), 
 he determined to pay to the pit, beheving that in such a 
 dense mass of people he should escape particular notice ; and 
 he soon felt satisfied by observing all about him apparently 
 strangers to his person. In fact, he was seated among persons, 
 tradesmen as they seemed, deeply intent upon the object of their 
 visit, and utterly unobservant of anything but the stage. One 
 of these professed total ignorance of all the performers, and 
 threw himself upon a better-informed neighbour for intelligence ; 
 so that, whenever a fresh face appeared, he applied for informa- 
 tion. " Who is that?" he would say; and as surely would he 
 
 to whom the question was put answer confidently, Mr. , or 
 
 Miss , being always wrong in the name he gave. This 
 
 " learned Theban" was a sort of animal who deemed anything 
 better than to confess himself ignorant upon any point ; there- 
 fore, he continued to misinform his simple and confiding friend, 
 who was satisfied at the close of the play that he had been 
 gratified by the performance of Mr. Fawcett in Hamlet, Mr. 
 Kemble in Rosencrantz, Simmonds in the Ghost, Cooke in Folo- 
 nius, and Mrs. Siddons as Ophelia, &c. All this had fidgeted 
 Mr. Mathews throughout the play very much, and nothing but 
 his desire to remain unnoticed prevented him from setting his 
 neighbour right. At last the afterpiece began, and he was 
 obliged to hear Miss De Camp, in the JBoi/, called Charles Kemble ; 
 Miss Norton, Mrs. Davenport ; Fawcett, Emery ; and Liston, 
 Dignum ; and so on. This, too, he bore ; but at last he was 
 touched to the quick by hearing his own name given to some 
 subordinate person in the theatre ; and in an evil' moment he 
 observed with annoyance, pretty visible to his neighbour, " No, 
 
 no, sir, not Mathews, that is Mr. ." The man turned 
 
 short round at this correction, somewhat impatiently, and looked 
 his corrector in the face, as if with an intention of out-facing 
 his assertion ; but in a moment his sternness relaxed — his per- 
 tinacity vanished — his compressed lips distended into a smile of 
 awakened recollection, and with a significant blink of his eye 
 he said, " Why, you are Mathews ! I knowed you the mo- 
 ment you spoke, by your wry mouth !" Indeed, it soon became 
 difficult for him to move anywhere without being recognised. 
 .In proportion as he became known, his natui-al shyness increased, 
 
122 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OP 
 
 and his dislike of being noticed in public out of his profession, 
 or by strangers, was always a serious drawback to his enjoy- 
 ment. 
 
 In the course of this winter, 1808, Mr. Mathews conceived 
 the idea of performing " An Entertainment ;" yet, doubting the 
 ])ossibility of one pair of lungs being able to furnish strength 
 sufficient for three consecutive hours' exertion, " the occasional 
 assistance of Mrs. Mathews in the vocal department" was called 
 in as a make-weight ; and, as the entertainment was only in- 
 tended to be represented in Yorkshire, where I had been always 
 received with partiality, such an auxiliary was not> altogether 
 insignificant to the end desired. 
 
 Our friend Mr. James Smith kindly undertook to write some 
 songs suitable to Mr. Mathews's pecuHar powers, and to link 
 together certain descriptions, which he had heard him give, of 
 eccentric characters, manners, and ventriloquy. So excellent 
 was the whole that it proved brilliantly successful, and this first 
 effort of actor and author, after ten years, became the foundation 
 of that extraordinary series of " At Homes" upon which my 
 husband's great professional reputation was perfected. Amongst 
 the songs, "The Mail Coach" and " Bartholomew Fair," which 
 Mr. Mathews afterwards sung till all playgoers were familiar 
 with them, were the most popular ; and, though introduced so 
 long ago and on every possible occasion, they were as full of 
 point and attraction in the year 1818 as if then heard for the 
 first time. 
 
 As this entertainment was so important in my husband's 
 theatrical career, I will annex the first bill ever published of 
 *'The Maa Coach Adventures." 
 
 By permission of the Right Worshipful the Mayor. 
 Theatre Royal, Hull. 
 
 On Wednesday evening, April 12th, 1808, Mr, and Mrs. Mathews, 
 of the Theatre Royal, Drury-lane. Mr. Mathews (with the occasional 
 assistance of Mrs. Mathews in the vocal department) will exhibit an 
 entire " New Entertainment," consisting of recitations, songs, imi- 
 tations, ventriloquy, &c., entitled 
 
 "the mail COACH; OE, EAMBLES IN YORKSHIRE." 
 
 Part First. — Recitation : Introductory address ; general improve- 
 ment in the conveyance of live lumber, as exemplified in the progress 
 of heavy coach, light coach, and mail; whimsical description of an 
 expedition to Brentford. Song : " Mail Coach." Recitation : De- 
 scription of the Passengers, lisping lady, Frenchman and critic in 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 123 
 
 black. Song : " Twenty-four Lord Mayors' Shows." Recitation : 
 Breaking of a spring ; passengers at Higiigate. ; the literary butcher, 
 Socrates in the shambles ; learning better than house or land. Song : 
 " William and Jonathan." Recitation : Definition of " Les Belles 
 Lettres;" French poets; rhyming defended. Song: Cobbler a la 
 Fran^oise." Theatrical criticism : Dimensions of Drury-lane stage ; 
 critic put to flight by two puns ; imitation of an election orator ; 
 scramble at supper , drunken farmer; cross readings. Song: *' Lodg- 
 ings for Single Gentlemen." Recitation : Wandering patentee ; Mrs. 
 Mathews's introductory address. Song: "Mrs. Mathews." Reci- 
 tation : Dialogue ; Mrs. M. and Nicky Numskull ; duett ; harmony 
 and discord (from Music Mad). Song : " The Yorkshire Beauty, or 
 the Misfortune of being handsome." 
 
 Between the first and second parts. Shield's celebrated song of 
 " Heigho," by Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Part Second. — Recitation : Digression on the study of the law ; 
 whimsical trial ; Goody Grim versus Lapstone ; cross-examination of a 
 pig. Song : " The Assizes." Recitation : Quaker's tour to Gretna ; 
 imitation of an idiot catching a fly. Song: Mrs. Mathews, "Poor 
 Idiot Boy." Recitation and song : " Gamut and Quashee, or Panto- 
 mime better than Speech." Recitation : Justice deaf; imitation of 
 " Fond Barney ;" highway robberies ; Quaker's precaution ; Capt. Mac 
 Jumble from Tipperary, his history. Song : " Whiskey and Gun- 
 powder." Ventriloquy, or Little Tommy. Song: Mrs. M. "The 
 Tuneful Lark." Recitation; Mac Jumble's Amours; Quakers over- 
 taken ; ostler's soliloquy. Song : " The Exciseman." Recitation : A 
 bull ; mountebank's harangue. Song : " Quack Doctor." Recitation : 
 A French Irishman ; unexpected discovery; a battle; spider and spy ; 
 description of a fair ; Mr. Punch ; Yorkshire giant ; wild-beast man. 
 Song : " Bartholomew Pair." Recitation : Bull the second ; York 
 Minster; arrival at York; journey ends. Imitations of some of the 
 principal London performers : — Mr. Kemble, Mr. Lewis, Mr. Bannister, 
 Mr. Kelly, Mr. Cooke, Mr. Fawcett, Mr. Incledon, Mr. King, Mr. 
 Munden, Mr. Blanchard, Mr. Brahara, and the late Mr. Suett. Con- 
 cluding Address. 
 
 How deeply indebted my husband considered himself to Mr. 
 Smith for connecting and applying in so masterly a manner the 
 matter which was before him, and for the humorous songs, 
 written so admirably to display the original powers of the 
 singer, may be imagined. " The Mail Coach" and " Bartholomew 
 Fair" were the first of their class, and might be said, like the 
 two bags of gold, to be the fruitful parents of many more, well 
 •known to the public as belonging pecuharly to Mr. Mathews. 
 
 For this invaluable service Mr. Smith declined anything like 
 payment, and would at length only allow my husband to present 
 him with some trivial remembrance. Mr. Smith's acknowledg- 
 
124 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 ttient of this trifle offers so agreeable an evidence of his liberal 
 feelings, and his friendship for my husband, that I cannot resist 
 inserting it here. 
 
 Basinghall-street, July 8th, 1808. 
 
 Many thanks, my dear sir, for your present. Your kindness has • 
 caused you to overrate my poor abilities; though you do no more than 
 justice to the alacrity with which I endeavoured to serve one for whose 
 private worth and professional talents I entertain so high an esteem. 
 I barely supplied the outline, your imitative skill supplied the colouring 
 and finish. 
 
 Had I leisure for the undertaking, I certainly should endeavour to 
 exhibit your powers in a more dramatic form, and transplant my weak 
 pen from the lecture-room to the stage ; but other avocations prevent 
 such an attempt. 
 
 It is rather a novel case, that the " pursuit of the law" should save 
 a man from damnation. 
 
 With best compliments to Mrs. Mathews, believe me, 
 
 Dear sir, very truly yours, James Smith. 
 
 To Charles Mathews, Esq. 
 
 At this early period Mr. Mathews's peculiar powers in private 
 life were talked of, and he was sought by all party-giving ladies 
 and lion-providers. Innumerable were the applications " to 
 know Mr. Mathews's terms for an evening," and to beg his 
 company, every one of which drew from him a refusal to visit 
 the person so applying on any terms. 
 
 Albinia, Countess of Buckinghamshire, was one of his ad- 
 mirers, who almost persecuted him, and he tried all possible 
 means to check her wish to lionize him on all occasions. In so 
 many unpleasant situations, indeed, did she place him, that at 
 last he determined to decline the next invitation, and wrote a 
 ■note excusing himself on the plea that his health did not admit 
 of any exertion out of his profession. Lady Buckinghamshire 
 was, as he expected, much offended, and in a neat equivoque 
 made him understand that she was not deceived by his excuse. 
 Her reply was briefly — " Lady Buckinghamshire's compliments 
 to Mr. Mathews, and is very sorry to find him so indifferent." 
 
 About this period Mr. Mathews first saw the Prince of Wales 
 at a fete given to his Eoyal Highness by Mr. Abraham Grold- 
 smidt, at Merton. My husband at first hesitated to accept the 
 invitation, and for some time balanced between his desire to 
 meet the great personage he much wished to see, and the fear 
 that he might be asked for the purpose, when there, of con- 
 tributing towards his entertainment. He consulted Mr. Braham, 
 who removed his fears, telling him that he believed Mr.Goldsmidfc 
 
CHAELES MATHEWS. 125 
 
 invited him because he had met him at his brother's, Mr. 
 Benjamin Goldsmidt (to whose family Mr. Mathews was much 
 attached), and out of respect to his private as well as professional 
 character. The invitation was therefore accepted, and no indi- 
 cation was given of any such design as my husband had at first 
 suspected. At supper he managed to sit next to Mr. Braham 
 at a table remote from that at which the Prince sat, and where 
 several of his familiar friends were also assembled. All appre- 
 hensions of any annoyance having long before subsided, he was 
 cheerfully enjoying himself with his friends, when he felt a tap 
 upon his shoulder, and received the next moment an intimation 
 in the following form from his host : " Mr. Mathews, you must 
 go with me to the other table; the Prince wants you." To this 
 curious mode of address my husband replied, " Impossible, Mr. 
 Goldsmidt ; I cannot think of going." " Bat," added his host, 
 " he has asked for you ; you must go," meaning to say, " eti- 
 quette requires you to obey the command of royalty." Poor 
 Mr. Mathews sickened at the thought, and appealed to Braham, 
 who gravely filled up the measure of his discontent by coolly 
 replying, " You must go." Accordingly, away he went with 
 his host, who left him near the table where the ro3^al guest was 
 seated^ He was hesitating what to do (for there was no vacant 
 seat), when Mr. Goldsmidt rejoined him, and with less delicacy 
 than eagerness to gratify his Boyal Highness, called out aloud, 
 " Mr. Mathews, Mr. Mathews, stand opposite the Prince — stand 
 opposite ; the Prince wants to look at you !" His Royal High- 
 ness seemed quite shocked at this rather coarse version of his 
 desire, and did not at the moment forget that he was England's 
 gentleman, for, with a hurried and even embarrassed manner, he 
 said, as he bent forward across the table, " I am very happy to 
 be introduced to you, Mr. Mathews, but there's no seat on that 
 side." The Prince then turned to Mr. Sheridan, who was next 
 him, and said, " Sheridan, can't we make a seat for Mathews 
 between us ?" at the same time contracting his own and making 
 a space, he pressed my husband between himself and Mr. 
 Sheridan. This was an histance of good-hearted politeness to 
 the person he had been the means of distressing which endeared 
 him to Mr. Mathews ever after. The Prince soon drew him out 
 in many things, of which he professed to have heard a great 
 deal, and which Mr. Mathews could not have attempted before 
 him under less judicious and delicate influence, and the rest of 
 the evening proved very gratifying to the actor. 
 
 It was about this period that my husband first became inti- 
 
126 THE LIFE AND CORRESrONDENCE OF 
 
 mate with Mr. Theodore Hook.* The election for Westminster 
 had recently taken place, and Mr. Sheridan was chosen one of 
 its representatives, on which occasion the actors of Drury-lane 
 celebrated their proprietor's triumph by giving him a dinner 
 
 * Theodore Edward Hook, novelist, political essayist, and, with perhaps 
 the single exception of Douglas Jerrold, the greatest conversational wit of the 
 century, was born on 22nd September, 1788, and educated at Harrow at the 
 same time as Lord Byron. At the age of sixteen he commenced writing for 
 the stage, and with almost unvarying success. His wondrous powers of 
 repartee and judicious play upon words — above all, his gift of improvising 
 verses and constructing rhymes on the most out-of-the-way words and on the 
 names of the best-known people, caused him to become a welcome guest in the 
 best society of the day. Campbell the poet spoke of him as "a wonderful 
 creature," Coleridge declared him to be "as true a genius as Dante," and at 
 last he was brought under the notice of the Prince Regent, who was so 
 charmed with his comic singing and extempore verse-making, as to procure 
 him the situation of Accountant- General and Treasurer of the Mauritius, with 
 a salary of 2000/. a year. At the Mauritius he remained five years, living in 
 the gayest and most extravagant manner, but at the end of that period a 
 scrutiny of the public accounts was made by a committee of inquiry, and gross 
 defalcations were discovered in the treasurer's books. The deficit was for a 
 very large amount, and as Mr. Hook was responsible, he was arrested and 
 shipped off to England. On his arrival, the accounts were examined, and the late 
 treasurer was declared by the Board of Credit to be liable for 9000Z., an amount 
 which he of course had not the means of paying, and he was accordingly 
 lodged in the King's Bench, where he remained for two years. In March, 
 1825, Mr. Hook was set at liberty, but informed that he was "in no degree 
 exonerated from his liability to the debt, if he should hereafter have the means 
 of discharging it." Upon his arrival in England he recommenced dramatic 
 writing, and began to contribute to newspapers and magazines. In the year 
 1820 he established the John Bull, and in a few weeks, by the combined force 
 of great talent and unblushing effrontery and personality, he rendered it the 
 great organ of George the Fourth and the Tories, and the terror of Queen 
 Caroline and the Whigs. In the year 1824 he commenced his career as a 
 novelist by the publication of " Sayings and Doings," to which were added in 
 successive years "Maxwell," "The Parson's Daughter," "Love and Pride," 
 " Gilbert Gurney," " Gurney Married," "Jack Brag," "Births, Deaths, and 
 Marriages," and "Father and Son." Some of these were originally pub- 
 lished in the " New Monthly Magazine," of which periodical he became editor 
 in 1830. 
 
 From the time of his liberation in 1825, until his death in 1841, his life 
 was one round of dissipation, high living, and hard work. Courted, flattered, 
 and demanded in the highest and best society, loving admiration like a girl, 
 and doting on pleasure and mischief like a boy, he was compelled to keep up 
 his literary engagements as a means of subsistence. After a night passed in 
 feasting, gambling, and debauchery, he would steal two or three hours from 
 his fevered sleep to dash off a certain number of pages for his novel, or a 
 certain number of articles for his newspaper, and then again plunge into the 
 thousand insanities and vices of the society in which he lived. And these were 
 not exceptional cases — this was his regular life : from the time of his leaving 
 prison until his death he knew no other. Of course his writings under such 
 
CHARLES IklATHEWS. 127 
 
 at the Piazza Coffee-house. To this dinner Mr. Hook was 
 invited. 
 
 In the course of the day many persons sung, and Mr. Hook 
 being in turn solicited, displayed to the delight and surprise of 
 all present, his wondrous talent in extemporaneous singing. 
 The company was numerous, and generally strangers to Mr. 
 Hook ; but without a moment's premeditation, he composed a 
 verse upon every person in the room, full of the most pointed 
 wit, and with the truest rhymes, unhesitatingly gathering into 
 his subject, as he rapidly proceeded, in addition to what had 
 passed during the dinner, every trivial incident of the moment. 
 Every action was turned to account ; every circumstance, the 
 look, the gesture, or any other accidental effects, served as 
 occasion for more wit ; and even the singer's ignorance of the 
 names and condition of many of the party, seemed to give greater 
 
 circumstances were no criterion of his natural powers, for the mere vis vitce 
 had to be sustained by constant draughts of champagne and brandy, and the 
 next morning's reaction was fatal to any effort of the brain, but the potations 
 served to re-kindle the brilliancy of his spoken wit and his conversational 
 vivacity, which were unapproachable to the last. 
 
 On the 24th of August, 1841, Hook died, bankrupt in purse, broken down 
 in health, a premature old man, with a most brilliant circle of acquaintances, 
 but without one real friend. His effects sold for 2o00Z., which sum was imme- 
 diately claimed by Government, and a subscription was set on foot for his 
 illegitimate children and their mother. The subscription amounted to nearly 
 3000Z. , of which the late King of Hanover, to his credit, gave 500Z. 
 
 So lived and so died one of the most originally-gifted geniuses of his day, 
 and as we regret to confess, one of the meanest characters that time has ever 
 produced. Scrupulous, dishonest, timeserving, a bully to the poor and a 
 flunkey to the rich, lacking the principle either to pay his creditors or to 
 marry his victim, lacking the courage to take up his position as a man of 
 letters on the strength of his talent, and content to fritter his days away as a 
 buffoon to the aristocracy, this gifted man went to the grave unhonoured, un- 
 mourned, uncared for. His novels are even now seldon! read, his hons mots 
 are even now forgotten or fathered upon others, and by the succeeding gene- 
 ration his name will scarcely be known. He was perhaps the most daring 
 practical joker that ever existed, and his successes in this way are embodiecl 
 in the pages of " Gilbert Gurney." Of Lis jests it will be sufiicient to quote 
 two examples. One occurred after a "swell" dinner-party, when the company 
 were dispersing. " Have jou lost your hat, Hook ?" asked the Duke of Rut- 
 land, seeing Theodore engaged in a fruitless search. *'I have," replied the 
 punster; "but had I such a Belvoir as your grace, depend upon it I'd take 
 better care of it." The other was delivered at my own christening, at which 
 ceremony Hook was present. "What are you going to call the boy, Fred?" 
 asked he. "Edmund Hodgson," replied my father, "after his godfathers, 
 you know, the Hon. Edmund 13yng, and Hodgson, the Pale Ale brewer." 
 "After them !" retorted Hook; "then you had much better christen him 
 £yngo Stingo r—E.Y. 
 
12$ THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 facility to his brilliant hits than even acquaintance with them 
 might have furnished. Mr. Sheridan was astonished at his extra- 
 ordinary faculty, and declared that he could not have imagined 
 such power possible, had he not witnessed it. No description, 
 he said, could have convinced him of so peculiar an instance of 
 genius, and he protested that he should not have believed it to 
 have been an unstudied effort, had he not seen proof that no 
 anticipation could have been formed of what might arise to 
 furnish matter and opportunities for the exercise of this rare 
 talent. 
 
 It was a bright day altogether, upon which Sheridan himself, 
 however, shed but little light. He made a speech, which was 
 not remarkable for any of that brilliancy which he was wont to 
 strike out in oratory. In fact, he was seldom agreeable in the 
 presence of actors ; before them his cheerfulness and mirth (if 
 they existed at the period to which I allude) never appeared. 
 He always entered his own theatre as if stealthily and un- 
 willingly ; and his appearance amongst his performers never 
 failed, to act like a dark cloud, casting a shade for the time over 
 all the gaiety of the green-room — a place generally so delightful 
 to all who entered it, Mr. Sheridan's coming " displaced the 
 mirth, broke the good meeting" of the time, and the actors 
 might aptly have applied to him a passage from his own ad- 
 mirable " School for Scandal," and exclaimed as he entered, " Oh, 
 here comes Sir Peter to spoil our pleasantry :" for he was on 
 these occasions almost morose. I perfectly well remember one 
 particular evening, when Miss De Camp, after a somewhat 
 animated colloquy with him, closed it by telling him, " that the 
 performers were all very happy before he entered the room, and 
 that he never came but to make everybody uncomfortable." 
 
 Mr. Sheridan certainly was not in his element there, although 
 himself the son of an actor. Not only in this place, however, 
 but elsewhere in his later years, this great man gave sad evidence 
 of a decrease in social enjoyment. He drank, even where ladies 
 were present, inordinately at table.* I recollect once sitting 
 next to him at a dinner-party, and his f]*equently talking to me 
 
 * Sir "Walter Scott, in his Diary (published since the above was written, in 
 Mr. Lockhart's life of that great nian), made the following memorandum, in 
 reference to this subject, after a visit of my husband to Abbotsford. 
 " Mathews assures me that Sheridan was generally very dull in society, and 
 sat sullen and silent, swallowing glass after glass, rather a hindrance than a 
 help ; but there was a time when he broke out with a resumption of what had 
 been going on, done with great force, and generally attacking some person in 
 the company, and some opinions which he had expressed. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 129 
 
 in the course of it (knowing me perfectly well), and soon after 
 the cloth was removed, my husband having said something 
 which called forth general mirth, Mr. Sheridan asljed me 
 w^hether I " had ever before been in company with Mathews ; if 
 not, that I had a great treat to come !" He was in fact very fond 
 of my husband, and courted his society often, both at his own 
 table and elsewhere. At these times the most mirthful feeling 
 he ever exhibited seemed to be elicited by Mr. Mathews's efforts ; 
 for Mr. Sheridan, like all men of great genius, had a full measure of 
 respect and admiration for that which he discovered in others ; but 
 it appeared that his fine spirit had so far lost its buoyancy, that 
 it was no longer able to keep itself up against younger and 
 fresher minds. Nay, even with men of his own age, his wit 
 could not compete with superior animal spirits. Mr. Colman 
 perfectly broke him down by the force of his vivacity. Sheridan 
 had no chance with him in repartee, and he always gave up to 
 his little merry companion, after the first attempt, in which he 
 generally failed. His genius seemed to forsake him for the time, 
 and Mr. Colman's fire appeared to blaze the brighter for being 
 kindled upon the embers of the splendid ruin before him.* He 
 always felt his own advantage, and was more brilhant as he 
 found the other more dull. Mr. Colman's joyousness was not 
 met, even at the time my husband first knew these great men, 
 with corresponding feeling : Sheridan's fire, though not his wit, 
 was evidently burnt out ; while that of his charming contem- 
 porary proved inextinguishable to his last hour. 
 
 Mr. Sheridan, in these his latter years, seemed tacitly to 
 admit his absence of power to keep up with such men, and to 
 feel that depression which precluded him from doing himself 
 justice amongst more alert minds, though always ready to do 
 honour to any excellence he met with. He was fond of pro- 
 moting any occasion for mirth, by the talents and exertions of 
 others, and many intimations were received by Mr. Mathews 
 from him, when any plot for a petite comedy entered the great 
 dramatist's head, for private amusement. 
 
 Sometimes the writing of these little despatches was so 
 wretchedly bad as to render their meaning unintelligible, and to 
 compel my husband to take the notes to his son, Mr. Thomas 
 Sheridan, for translation ; and I have now in my possession 
 writings of his containing words that would puzzle the most 
 
 * It must "be understood that my impressions of Mr. Sheridan relate to the 
 latter part of his life. 
 
130 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 ingenious to make out without the context. I remember a droll 
 fact illustrative of this. One night an order of Mr. Sheridan's 
 was stopped at the box-door of Drury-lane Theatre, and pro- 
 nounced a forgery, because the door-keeper could read it ! 
 
 November 11th, 1808. 
 Deae Mathews, 
 
 " I 'gin to pull in resolution." 
 
 When I talked of holiday Sundays, I felt bolder than, upon reflection, 
 I ought to do, with a due respect to the regulations of our college,* 
 into which I have more particularly inquired since we met. So another 
 day, in the course of the month, I will, if you please, attend you, and 
 be kind enough to look out for a moon for me, for I incline to the party 
 of the Lunatics, and am no follower of the Prince of Darkness, on the 
 King's highway. 
 
 So, Sheridan and Hood for ever ! No PauU ! God save the King ! 
 Bless the crier ! Huzza ! huzza ! 
 
 G. COLMAN. 
 To Charles Mathews, Esq. 
 
 A short time previously to the date of the above letter, my 
 husband had taken a pretty rustic cottage, in one of the most 
 retired lanes of Colney Hatch, where he nightly drove me, even 
 after the latest performances at Drury-lane, for the pleasure of 
 enjoying an hour or two the next morning, and the whole of 
 every Sunday, in the air and the neighbourhood so interesting to 
 him. From this spot we often visited his late father's cottage 
 in the rural lane, where also his chapel stood. Mr. Mathews 
 had even a boyish delight, tempered with much tender feeling, 
 in sauntering near this spot, sitting upon the stile opposite to 
 the cottage-gate, and loitering about the scene endeared to him 
 by early recollections. The alx)ve intimation from Mr. Colman 
 referred to his first visit to " Twig Hall," so named after its 
 nominal owner, little Charles, who had soon after his birth been 
 named " Twig" by the same sponsor (Mr. Litchfield) who had 
 given his father the early appellation of " Stick." The Twig was 
 slight, and drooped in London air, so that a more healthy climate 
 was absolutely necessar}'- for its support. This little box was, 
 in fact, considered his, and all who came there were but children 
 for the time being, and confessedly and necessarily Twig's play- 
 fellows. 
 
 EecoUection revives many a joyous scene enacted in the nar- 
 
 * Mr. Colman was, it was understood, at this time confined within the rules 
 of the Bench for a debt contracted by his father to the father of the person who 
 placed him there. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 131 
 
 row compass of this tiny place, in whicli as many delightful 
 associations were formed. There, in rooms hardly bigger than 
 cells, would friends of the rarest talent unbend and revel in rural 
 freedom once a week ; and little Twig welcomed his guests, under 
 the conviction that they came to " pay wis him." Amongst 
 these Mr. Liston (or, as Twig called him, for want of better 
 pronunciation, " Misser Lickton) was an especial favourite. One 
 morning after breakfast I missed these two children, and from 
 an upper window discovered the little dot with him of larger 
 growth, earnestly engaged in the game of " hide and seek," the 
 latter running with serious aspect from gooseberry-bush to goose- 
 berry-bush, calling out the misleading whoop ! to the urchin, 
 who on each intimation trundled its tiny round figure after the 
 sound. I could not suppress a laugh when I saw the bigger boy 
 as he crouched down, quite unconscious of a witness of his grave 
 amusement, draw out his snuff-box and take a pinch of snuff to 
 heighten his enjoyment. This indulgence gave time and oppor- 
 tunity to his little dupe to reach the spot, with a scream of 
 delighted triumph at the long-sought detection of the hider, 
 who vainly tried to escape from the grasp of the small hand 
 which seized his coat, while his turn was insisted on, and Misser 
 Lickton was commanded to turn away his head from the where- 
 about of his co-mate in the game until the appointed signal was 
 given. 
 
 On the night when Mr. Liston led forward as father the young 
 man whom he had humoured when a child, the " Old and Young 
 Stager" again played together before me ; but my smiles on that 
 occasion, unlike those of old, were mingled with tears, for I sat 
 alone, and thought of him who would have witnessed with pride 
 and gratification the triumph of that night, and the general 
 kindness which greeted his son, so much beloved by him. What 
 a multitude of recollections of bygone scenes, and sweet asso- 
 ciations, did that scene bring before my mind's eye, as I beheld 
 the object best and dearest to me on earth relinquishing the 
 profession of his choice, and standing forward, untutored, in one 
 of the most arduous nature, even to those who have studied it 
 with care, and practised it from their earliest days ; and all this 
 for the sake of his mother I* 
 
 * I may here notice, in order to contradict it, a report that has made its 
 ■way into the several accounts which have appeared respecting my son's 
 entrance upon the stage — namely, that in becoming an actor, he opposed the 
 expressed wish of his father. So far from this being true, he was encou- 
 raged to adopt it within the last few years, for his father believed that he 
 
 k2 
 
'1S2 THE LIFE AND COERESPONDENCE OF 
 
 But to return to the cottage. There often might be seen 
 Harriet Mellon — then a youthful, slim, and beautiful creature : 
 she would come, all joy and simplicity, for a day's recreation. 
 How merry and happy she was! perhaps happier than when 
 splendour hedged her in from the enjoyment of simple pleasures, 
 the love of which I believe to have been inherent in her nature. 
 I see her now, returning from a tumble into a neighbouring 
 pond, in the middle of which her horse had unexpectedly chosen 
 to drink. How unaffectedly she protested, when dragged out, 
 that she did not care for the accident, and walked home, though 
 with difficulty, across the common, with her musHn garments 
 saturated with muddy water, and her beautiful hair dripping 
 down her back ! How we laughed while we afterwards dragged 
 off the wet clothes from her fine form, half apprehensive for the 
 consequences ! Then again, what peals of merriment attended 
 her re-appearance in the borrowed, ill-fitting dress that had 
 been cast upon her, and the uncouth turban that bound her 
 straightened hair, and which she was compelled to wear for the 
 rest of the day ! What amusement her figure created ! how 
 well she converted by her good humour an almost serious acci- 
 dent into one of general entertainment ! How many other 
 drolleries have I seen her enact at various periods, in the same 
 place, my husband the leader of such revels ! This little spot 
 was in reality the sans souci of our friends, and little Twig the 
 presiding deity of the place, and the epitome of fun and merri- 
 ment ; as such he was allowed perfect liberty for the time. One 
 day he entered the room with his hands full of the sibylline 
 leaves of the nursery — in other words, half a pack of very dirty 
 
 possessed the talent to excel in his own particular line; and fearing that 
 the pursuit of architecture was not likely to enrich him for many years, 
 expressed his opinion that Charles might with greater advantage appear in 
 public as an actor. It was the son who objected — nay, silenced the argu- 
 ments of his father, from the devotion he felt to that profession for which 
 he had been educated ; and I believe I may assert that this was the only 
 occasion upon which his father's wishes were not considered commands by 
 him. Their mutual love, and I may add esteem, admitted of no differences ; 
 their affection never knew an hour's interruption, and he would have found 
 it as impossible to his nature to fly in the face of his father's commands 
 after his death, as he proved himself incapable of thwarting them while 
 living. This every person who knew them can testify. 
 
 He made his fii-st appearance on the 7th of December, 1835, at the 
 Theatre Royal Olympic, after little more than a fortnight's preparation, in a 
 ;petite comedy of his own, called '* The Hunchbacked Lover," and an admirable 
 piece, written for the occasion by Mr. Lemau Eede, called "The Old and 
 Young Stager." 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 133 
 
 cards, wliich he had abstracted from his maid's drawer, and with 
 which he offered to tell Miss Mellon her fortune. Borrowing 
 the cant and phraseology of the owner of them, he foretold that 
 his favourite would some day be " married" — not to Mr. Coutts, 
 the banker — not to the Duke of St. Alban's — but to a " hand- 
 some carpenter." 
 
 We ceased our intimacy with Miss Mellon just as she became 
 a rich woman ; but in after years we never glanced at each other 
 in public for a moment, that I did not fancy that the Duchess 
 of St. Alban's looked as if she remembered these scenes, and 
 felt that they were very happy. " Twig Hall," in short, was a 
 place not to be forgotten by its visitors. Alas ! how few now 
 remain to dwell upon the recollections this mention of it is cal- 
 culated to renew ! 
 
134 THE LIFE AND COEEESPONDENCE OF 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 " The Spanish Ambassador" and his "Interpreter." 
 
 Mr. Mathews's various powers of disguise naturally tempted 
 his friends into a strong desire of witnessing the ejffects arising 
 from them upon others. We had returned to town, and resided 
 in Great Russell-street ; and as our only wooded view was the 
 gate of the British Museum, which faced our windows, my hus- 
 band took every opportunity of running away from it for a day ; 
 and it became a sort of fashion amongst a knot of his male 
 friends to make parties for him to the neighbourhood of London, 
 where good entertainment for man and horse was to be met with. 
 At one period, six or eight of these worthies determined to make 
 a trip of pleasure, partly on a water-excursion. It was at the 
 time when the excitement prevailed about Ferdinand of Spain ; 
 and it was suggested and arranged that Mr. Mathews should 
 travel on this occasion as the Spanish Ambassador. His suite 
 therefore disposed themselves in two carriages, " his Excellency" 
 dignifying the foremost till they arrived at Woolwich, the place 
 destined for the first halt. Here Mr. Hill,* one of the party, 
 undertook the office of interpreter, and he speedily whispered to 
 the landlord the rank of the personage he had the honour to 
 entertain under his roof. The intelligence acted like a spark of 
 electricity, communicating its effect to the whole establishment, 
 and setting it all in motion. In the mean time, " his Excel- 
 lency" sallied forth on foot with his suite, in order to behold the 
 wonders of the place. His appearance in itself was very striking, 
 without the quick-spreading knowledge of his rank. He was 
 dressed in a bright green frock-coat ; his bosom, ornamented with 
 a profusion of orders and ribbons of every sort, dazzled the 
 curious eye of the observer. On his head he wore a large cocked 
 
 * Mr. Thomas Hill, proprietor of " The Monthly Mirror" (so often alluded 
 to in the early pages of this book), and always the very good friend of my 
 husband. 
 

 LoiiJon:Roiitledge,Wamp; '-'z Rcnitledgc 
 
CHAELES MATHEWS. 135 
 
 hat with patriotic devices affixed, such as " Viva Ferdinand !" 
 upon a ribbon of purple ground in golden characters ; and " his 
 Excellency" also wore a pair of green spectacles. In the streets 
 of Woolwich he was followed and cheered by all the little boys 
 in the neighbourhood, to whom the condescending Ambassador 
 bowed in amiable humility. He went into shops and bought 
 divers things, speaking volubly the jargon which his interpreter 
 rendered into good English. At last, almost to "his Excel- 
 lency's" consternation, a communication was made by the higher 
 powers of the place, that whatever the " Spanish Ambassador" 
 deigned to notice would be open to " his Excellency's" inspec- 
 tion the rest of the day, for which purpose the workmen had 
 received orders not to quit the spot at their customary hours 
 of refreshment, but await his commands ! This was alarm- 
 ing. It was more than " his Excellency" reckoned upon, and 
 fearful was the thought of detection under such a distinguished 
 mark of attention. However, the Ambassador graciously ac- 
 cepted the proffered exhibition, and viewed all that was to be 
 seen, with due show of surprise and commendation, faithfully 
 interpreted to the comptrollers of the works. When at last this 
 ludicrous scene ended, the Ambassador and his suite returned 
 to take their " ease at their inn," where the preparations were 
 indeed appalling. Every bit of plate that could be got toge- 
 ther, not only belonging to the house, but, as they aftewards 
 learned, from the neighbourhood, was displayed in gorgeous 
 array, to grace the visit of so distinguished a guest. The land- 
 lord and his family, and his servants, were tricked out in all 
 their best attire to wait upon the great man, whom they were all 
 drawn out to greet upon his return, courtesying and bobbing to 
 him ; all of which this high-bred man and illustrious foreigner 
 acknowledged with a grace and condescension that won all hearts. 
 He talked unceasingly, but they could only dwell upon what his 
 interpreter was kind enough to render intelligible. Now and 
 then, indeed, a word of English would gratify their tortured 
 ears — " Goode Englis' pepel !" " Fine houze ! " Tanks 1" and 
 such like comfits sweetened their laborious attendance. 
 
 I cannot now recount half the absurdities "his Excellency" 
 committed, or that were committed for " his Excellency," whose 
 averred habits differed very strikingly from those of the English. 
 His Interpreter informed the landlord that, amongst other 
 peculiarities, " his Excellency" required every article of use in 
 vast quantities ; hundreds of napkins, spoons, forks, plates ; in 
 fact, no man that had not lived in Spain could be aware of such 
 
136 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 inordinate demands. The first view of his bed-room presented to 
 " his Excellency" an illumination worthy of victory. Numerous 
 wax-lights were placed in various-shaped candlesticks about the 
 chamber, and about twelve dozen towels, piled up upon a table 
 by the side of the washing-stand, for his one night's use. The 
 Ambassador ordered about him in his own language, which was 
 translated according to circumstances by his accomplished fol- 
 lower, whose interpretation sometimes was enough to overset 
 the gravity of any hidalgo, though it was curious to observe 
 that everywhere, when only a solitary advantage was to be 
 obtained, and that advantage reserved for the great man, the 
 Interpreter always felt under the necessity of explaining that 
 " his Excellency" had a taste for inferior things, and preferred 
 what, to an Englishman, was objectionable, particularly in warm 
 weather — namely, very small sleeping-rooms, short and narrow 
 beds, low pillows, &c. Things usually disdained by our higher 
 orders were, in fact, matters of luxury in Spain ; consequently, 
 the said Interpreter enjoyed the superior accommodation as a 
 matter of duty which called upon him to appropriate the best 
 of everything to himself. All this added to the amusement of 
 the time, and laid up cause for future mirth. 
 
 The next morning the farce was resumed, and the same 
 mockeries repeated. " His Excellency" breakfasted with the 
 same ceremonies and results as at his previous day's dinner, pre- 
 ferring the stale bread and eggs, and resigning the new to his 
 Interpreter, &c. Thus " perked up in a glittering sorrow," he 
 was not sorry, with all his love of "fun," to see preparations 
 for a removal, which at length took place amid a crowd, as- 
 sembled to see "his Excellency" depart, and which cheered him 
 as he drove off with the greatest enthusiasm. 
 
 The water-excursion followed, and a small fishing-smack was 
 hired for the purpose of a sail. The master of it, a simple, 
 illiterate, fresh-water tar, was duly impressed with the honour 
 bestowed on his little craft by the noble freight it carried, and 
 was all deference and delight. The Ambassador, feigning to 
 suppose this little dirty-faced fellow a naval hero, expressed 
 great respect and affection for the noble "British Capitaine," 
 while he directed his Interpreter to inform him that he should 
 boast of his acquaintance to Ferdinand, and predispose the 
 whole of the Spanish nation in his favour. The old man shed 
 tears of gratification at all this, and " his Excellency" would 
 not suffer his favourite the "Capitaine" to move from his side. 
 .Hefreshments had been carried on board, and amongst these a 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 137 
 
 can, said to contain a quantity of lamp-oil for " his Excellency's" 
 exclusive drinking. Everything was done to excite surprise in 
 the little master of the boat that could be devised at the moment. 
 One thing I well remember. A piece of an apple had been cut 
 into the form of a candle-end, and a bit of scraped almond com- 
 pleted the deception. The Ambassador, happening to drop his 
 toothpick in a dusky corner of the boat, demanded a light from 
 his Interpreter, who presented him with the above preparation 
 in a luminous state ; and " his Excellency," having searched 
 for the toothpick and found it, blew out the candle, and after a 
 minute's pause of hesitation where to place it, put it into his 
 mouth with unconcern, and ate the whole of it ! The " Capi- 
 taine" looked wonder and disgust at this, and more especially 
 when " his Excellency," expressing a desire for some lamp-oil 
 to wash it down, a glassful of yellow liquid was poured out, 
 supposed to be what he asked for, and he swallowed it* appa- 
 rently with much relish. The master's chest absolutely heaved 
 at this finishing proof of a depraved taste. However, the time 
 came when the Ambassador and suite wished to land at their 
 dining-place, and it was agreed that the master should await to 
 take them back to Woolwich, where the carriages were left, to 
 convey them to town. "His Excellency," however, had had 
 enough of his empty dignity, and hungered for the solid ad- 
 vantages of a common man, of which it was the fancy of his 
 Interpreter to stint him, while he wanted language to assert 
 his rights and wishes. It was accordingly resolved that he 
 should resign his honours, resume his mother-tongue, and leave 
 his title behind him. Doffing his spectacles and medals, and 
 exchanging his green for a blue coat — in fact, becoming him- 
 self — he re-entered the boat as a stranger, who desired to be 
 taken to Woolwich ; and, as it was understood by the master 
 that his noble patron, the Ambassador, was not to return, he 
 asked leave of the party to admit the gentleman appl^'^ing. Oa 
 the voyage back it may be guessed that not much else was 
 talked of on board but the " Spanish Ambassador ;" and as the 
 stranger expressed an interest in the particulars of " his Excel- 
 •lency's" trip, the master undertook the relation. This was by 
 far the better part of the whole affair ; for the vanity of the 
 poor little man induced such exaggerations of his intimacy and 
 his favour with his noble friend, that my husband was inwardly 
 convulsed while he listened to the account. He described " his 
 Excellency" as a " werry personable man — not what in Hengland 
 we should call 'ansome, but werry personable, and the haffablest 
 
138 THE LIFE A^"D CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 cretor I ever seed in my life ! Why, sir, he treated me more 
 like a brother than anythink else : called me Captain, and pro- 
 mised to mention me kindly in Spain, and offered to interdoos 
 me to King Ferdinand ! (But, Lord, I couldn't bear to live 
 with such nasty devils !) What a happetite he had, too ! I 
 couldn't live with Spaniards, I'm sure, if they all eat like ' his 
 Excellency.' He made me quite sick, old as I am, with his dirty 
 Spanish ways. Why, if you'll believe me, he swallowed at one 
 draught a whole quart of lamp ile, and eat up a large tally candle 
 at a mouthful ! I seed him with my own eyes, or I wouldn't 
 have believed it. I seed it all go down his Spanish throat ! I've 
 since been werry much puzzled, though, to think whatever he 
 did vith the vick !" 
 
 When the party reached Woolwich, they found their carriages 
 ready to receive them, and, it then being dark, they escaped 
 further notice. But the visit of " the Spanish Ambassador" was 
 not soon forgotten there ; and though there was some after- 
 suspicion that the attention of the resident authorities was ex- 
 pended on an impostor, yet the name of " his Excellency's" re- 
 presentative never transpired. A drawing was ordered to be made 
 by the " interpreter," in commemoration of the event, of which 
 my husband had a copy. 
 
 In apology, if it need one, for Mr. Mathews's early love of 
 practical joking, hoaxing, &c. (a species of amusement very justly 
 placed in the lowest scale of humour), I think it fair to urge, 
 that at the period these scenes took place he had no other oppor- 
 tunity of exercising his inherent and irrepressible powers of 
 representation ! In his profession there had been no scope for 
 their display : he performed only in the regular routine of plays 
 and farces. The drama's laws, then rigid, forbade any mode 
 by which his unique talents could possibly be exhibited ; and 
 his spirits were so exuberant, that it seemed a necessity rather 
 than a choice that they should find egress by any mode that 
 presented itself to his imagination. The extravagant acts he 
 practised were, in fact, like so many safety-valves, through which 
 these spirit-fancies escaped, which, if restrained and driven back, 
 might have preyed upon his mind to its injury. 
 
 To show that what I here assert is not merely imaginary, I 
 will mention a circumstance that occurred to him many years 
 
 i 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 139 
 
 ago. He had lived a very vapid, inactive life for some days, at 
 a time when he was predisposed to mirth and mental freedom. 
 He was amongst strangers, people who never made a joke, or 
 were capable of receiving one. They were grave, matter-of-fact 
 folks, and he was afraid to give loose to any of those active exer- 
 cises of his vivacious imagination which he was wont to throw 
 out in society. All was propriety and dulness. His spirit was 
 pressed down, " cabin'd, cribb'd, confin'd;" he never ventured a 
 playful remark, for he was conscious that it would not have been 
 understood. In fact, in the midst of many persons he felt alone, 
 and at last, almost desponding. 
 
 One morning this party, all gentlemen, assembled for the pur- 
 pose of spending the day in an excursion, and were mounted on 
 their horses ready to proceed. My husband's depressed spirits 
 were exhilarated by the beauty of the weather, and the prospect 
 of a day's pleasure (free from the restraint of a room, listening 
 to truisms) in the open air, where he would have uncontrolled 
 power to gaze upon his idol Nature in her most beautiful form. 
 He had not ridden out of the city for some weeks, and was in a 
 state of childish dehght and excitement. At this moment his 
 eyes turned upon one of the party, a very little man, who was 
 perched on a very tall horse, and who seemed unusually grave 
 and important. Mr. Mathews looked at him for a moment; 
 and the next knocked him off with a smart blow, and he fell to 
 the ground. The whole party were struck with horror ; but no 
 one felt more shocked than he who had committed the outrage. 
 He dismounted, picked up the little victim to his unaccountable 
 freak, declared himself unable to give any motive for the action, 
 but that it was an impulse he could not resist ; and afterwards, 
 in relating this extraordinary incident, he declared his conviction 
 that it was a moment of frenzy, induced by the too sudden re- 
 action from previous stagnation of all freedom and amusement. 
 
 His intimate acquaintance at this time with a kindred spirit 
 kept alive this desire to astonish others, for his own amusement, 
 ^onger than it might otherwise have lasted, and gave, perhaps, a 
 new impetus to his fanciful will. The youthful Theodore Hook 
 had a head to devise, and nerve to execute, and lent himself, 
 heart and mind, to every occasion of mirth ; and when injury 
 was to be punished, or folly reproved, these " two were a multi- 
 tude" in furthering the end. 
 
 Mr. Hook was a master-spirit in such freaks, as he has since 
 proved in higher aims. He devised many a plan which " asto- 
 nished the natives" at the time ; and the ingenuity of his con- 
 
140 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 trivances, and the witty execution of them, were worthy of 
 more important occasions. 
 
 I will relate one of Mr. Hook's impromptus in this way. 
 Mr. Mathews was one of a party making an excursion upon the 
 Thames. In the heat of the day "the voyagers" wished for a 
 pleasant landing-place, in order to enjoy in shade and shelter 
 the refreshments which their boat contained. One most invit- 
 ing spot presented itself, and Theodore proposed it as suitable to 
 their purpose, when his attention was directed to an enormous 
 board, " courteously waving them" off, with a request that 
 parties would not land upon those grounds. Now, had the pro- 
 prietor of the said grounds been aware of the party that day 
 boating, he would have done wisely to remove his injunction, 
 or re-word it ; for it proved as direct an invitation as when a 
 rustic hoyden, at a merry-making, deprecates the kiss her ad- 
 mirer did not think of giving. Parties were requested not to land, 
 and therefore this party would land ; and so they did — all of them 
 believing, except their leader and instigator to this tresspass 
 upon private property, that they might enjoj'^the shade without 
 otience or detection during their repast. But no sooner had they 
 commenced operations than they perceived a little portly gen- 
 tleman coming at his utmost pace down the slope, evidently very 
 hot with exertion and choler. The more timid of the party 
 were for retreat, but the dauntless Theodore kept his stand. 
 Looking significantly at the others, and pulling my husband to 
 his side, he coolly took out his pocket-book and pencil, and, 
 without seeming to notice the approaching stranger, made me- 
 moranda in his book, and observations on the place to his com- 
 panion. At last, the owner of the grounds coming up to the 
 party, began to denounce this invasion of his premises ; but Mr. 
 Hook, carrying it with a high tone, continued his investigation 
 and pencilling, and observed aloud to Mr. Mathews that he 
 thought the canal might, with most propriety, be cut through 
 that shrubbery, and turn directly across the front of the lawn. 
 To be sure, it would be rather near the house, but that could 
 not be helped, and at present he saw no other way of proceeding. 
 The hot, portly little gentleman started, and cooled down, 
 changing complexion from red to pale. " What, sir ■" said he, 
 timidly, and even fearfully, " am I to understand that a canal is 
 to pass through these grounds ?" Theodore leisurely finished his. 
 mem., and then carelessly answered in the affirmative. The little 
 gentleman now altered his first manner to one of great anxiety 
 and civiHty; asked various questions as to the probabilities, 
 
 ■s 
 
CHAELES MATHEWS. 141 
 
 time, &c. ; and Theodore, who often whispered to his " clerk" 
 (my husband), while he pointed about the grounds, condescended 
 to inform the questioner that the conduct of tlie whole proceed- 
 ing was given into his hands, and was entirely dependent upon 
 his judgment, direction, and decision. The gentleman now 
 began to bustle about, evidently uneasy, and anxious to conci- 
 liate this man of power, who told him that when he had made 
 himself and his clerk masters of the whole scope and capabili- 
 ties of the land, he and the friends who accompanied him in 
 this anxious business meant to take their refreshment in some 
 commodious part of the ground, to which he supposed there 
 would be no objection. This was not to be allowed by the now 
 truly complaisant little gentleman. " Oh, no, he could not think 
 of letting the party remain out of doors ; he begged they would 
 all four do him the pleasure of taking refreshment within. Him- 
 self and his family had dined, it was true ; but something should 
 be prepared for the party, and he entreated they would not re- 
 fuse him the pleasure of entertaining them." Accordingly, the 
 intruders followed their hospitable inviter; and while the ser- 
 vants were despatched to provide the best the house contained 
 for these imexpected guests, they were presented in form to the 
 lady of the mansion and her daughters, and the cause of their 
 arrival was explained with significant looks, as much as to say, 
 *' Our delights here are gone ; but do not betray any anxiety 
 before these men." 
 
 Well, the hateful canal business was of course the topic of 
 conversation. Theodore " thought it a pity so to break up a 
 gentleman's shrubbery ; but private considerations must neces- 
 sarily give place to public convenience," &c. ; to all which re- 
 marks the unluci^y owner of the grounds gave a faint assent. 
 
 Refreshments in the dining-room were now announced, and 
 the guests proceeded thither, attended obsequiously by their 
 fluttered host; and one by one the ladies of the house, "on 
 hospitable thoughts intent," followed, anxious no doubt to hear 
 the extent of the threatened calamity. All soon became calm ; 
 the man of business talked largely of his power and influence 
 with those by whom he was employed ; hinted pretty freely 
 that he could turn the canal in any direction he liked ; and in- 
 deed at last " the hospitality" of his new friend, and " the ami- 
 ability of his family," so wrought upon the sympathies of this 
 planner of canals, that, after a bottle or two of excellent wine, 
 he declared " it would be shameful to disturb so much comfort 
 and good taste by such a process. Hinting, therefore, that be 
 
142 THE LIFE AND COKEESPONDENCE OF 
 
 should look out for some other way to accomplish the intents of 
 government, he took his leave with his clerk and friends, and 
 with it the hearty liking of the whole family, whose comfort for 
 the time this frolic had upset. 
 
 It is curious enough that, some years after, this incident was 
 woven into a French vaudeville, called " Le gastronome sans 
 argent," and was performed by that admirable comedian, Perlet, 
 in Paris, doubtless indirectly communicated by some friend of 
 the boating party to the author of the piece.* 
 
 For several years it was an annual custom with Mr. Hook and 
 Mr. Mathews, and other Messieurs (one of whom is now a 
 " potent, grave, and Reverend Signior") fond of a frolic, to go 
 to Croydon Fair, for the purpose of cracking walnuts — and jokes. 
 Innumerable were the diverting tricks played upon those they 
 encountered, and upon each other, by these young and buoyant 
 spirits. In pursuance of the latter portion of their amuse- 
 ment, on one occasion, while strolling through the market, Mr. 
 Hook suddenly proclaimed himself the victim of fraternal 
 cruelty, declaring that his brother (Mr. Mathews), in order to 
 deprive him of his property, was confining him to his side, and 
 otherwise rendering him wretched and dependent, and that he 
 hoped the good people present would not oppose his escape, or 
 attempt to follow him. As he said this, he suddenly sprang 
 away from his party, leaving his unnatural relation in what he 
 hoped would be an awkward dilemma. Brotherly instinct, how- 
 ever, suggested a means of averting popular indignation and 
 satisfying the crowd that his younger brother was in fact 
 a lunatic, although a harmless one ; and the rest of the 
 party confirming this statement, Mr. Mathews was allowed 
 quietly to follow the fugitive, whom he and his friends soon 
 discovered concealed at a short distance round a corner, waiting 
 to rejoin them. 
 
 After this they repaired to the coffee-room at the inn. Here 
 again the lunatic became very obstreperous, and behaved in a 
 manner so as to justify the severity of his alleged brother, who, 
 after a time, being a little nervous at the extent of his relation's 
 paroxysm, left the room, and was standing at the outer entrance 
 of the hotel, when a hearse trotted up to the door on its return 
 from its melancholy journey. The driver, a little fat man, had 
 just dismounted from the box, in his professional robes — namely, 
 a suit of woe, and eke a broad crape streaming from his hat, and 
 
 * This scene, as will be recollected by all novel-readers, was afterwards 
 worked into the admirable " Gilbert Gurney." 
 
 I 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 143 
 
 hanging down his back. The man looked at my husband for a 
 minute, and smiling with much meaning, addressed him, as he 
 bowed, by his name. " Ah, Mr. Mathews ! my last inside pas- 
 senger died of laughing at you, sir !" My husband, who gene- 
 rally preserved his incognito, was startled by this knowledge of 
 his person, but being withal curious to know the man's meaning, 
 inquired to whom he alluded. He was answered by a significant 
 action over the shoulder of the man, whose thumb jerked at 
 the mournful machine behind him, which still remained at the 
 door. 
 
 It appeared, upon further questioning, that the recent occu- 
 pant of the gloomy vehicle had gone to the theatre one 
 night, to all appearance well ; but had laughed so incontinently 
 at Mr. Mathews's acting, as to return home in a state of 
 such exhaustion, that it ended in severe illness, produced, as 
 the medical man averred, from an over-excitement, of which 
 she died ! Mr. Mathews, half shocked, half flattered, was glad 
 to forget the part he was said to have had in the death of the 
 poor young lady (who most probably had carried her hillet with 
 her to the theatre, as few people die of laughing, although 
 many "have thought they should do so"), and eagerly yielded 
 to a suggestion which this man's appearance and recent 
 errand had occasioned. Accordingly, promising him half-a- 
 crown, he engaged him to act a subordinate part in the comedy 
 of " The Eeprisal," which Theodore's freak justified his brotherly 
 wish to " get up" for his benefit. This settled, Mr. Mathews re- 
 turned to the coffee-room, where the young madman was carrying 
 on the joke quietly enough, having, it seemed, enjoyed a lucid 
 interval. But the return of his cruel brother brought on another 
 violent paroxysm, and no expostulation could abate his resistance 
 of all rational control ; on the contrary, soothing seemed to increase 
 his violence. At last his brother declared, that if he was not 
 more obedient and resigned, he would resort to stronger measures, 
 Snd send him back to London in a manner he would not like. 
 This intimation only added to his outrageous behaviour : he was 
 threatened with confinement, and told that a hearse was in 
 •waiting to receive him, no other conveyance being attainable ; 
 and that he should be placed in that unless he became quiet. 
 This threat produced no amendment, for, of course, it was received 
 as a feint by the incorrigible maniac. However, at last, the 
 elder brother took a cord, from his pocket, with which he tied 
 Theodore's hands behind him ; who, having no suspicion of the 
 truth, favoured the act, while seeming to resist it. This arrange- 
 
144 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 merit being made, at a given signal in stalked the little fat man 
 in black, whip in hand, and streaming hat-band, and with a 
 solemn, grave air, proclaimed, " The hearse is ready, sir." For 
 a moment the unfortunate captive looked at this messenger of 
 woe with distrust. But again recollecting how impossible the 
 reality could be, he tamely allowed himself to be led out of the 
 room, in apparent submission to his brother's arrangement, and 
 proceeded peaceably down the long passage to the inn-door. 
 Here, however, the sight of the hearse, ready to admit him, and 
 the little man holding the door open with his right hand, respect- 
 fully dangling his hat and band from the other, gave the lunatic 
 such a shock, that suddenly releasing himself from his keeper's 
 hold, he darted up the street (his hands still bound), with a hue 
 and cry after him, his unfortunate relation and friends following 
 up the pursuit. 
 
 Luckily for Theodore, he was tall and slim, with great agility 
 of limb, so that he fairly distanced the hobnails of his pursuers, 
 and sheltering himself amongst some trees at the edge of the 
 town, waited calmly for his friends, who he believed would not 
 carry their barbarity so far as to leave him there long, or suffer 
 the peojple who had first followed him to remain at the head of 
 the pursuit. In short, as he anticipated, his party " came at 
 last to comfort him ;" they unbound his refractory arms, and all 
 had their laugh fairly out at the consternation they had left be- 
 hind them. After this they dined at another inn, and became 
 rational for the rest of the day. 
 
 It had been the custom to go to the theatre of the place on 
 the evenings of these days ; and therefore on this particular oc- 
 casion the custom was not omitted. The play was " The School 
 for Friends," in which, it may be remembered, Mr. Mathews was 
 the original Matthew Daw. He was naturally desirous on this 
 occasion that his party should behave with great decorum, as it 
 would have been painful to him to have his humbler brethren of 
 the sock and buskin suppose that he had come with a party 
 " to flout at their solemnities ;" and he could hardly expect to 
 be altogether unknown to them. Mr. Hook, however, was not 
 in a mood to be everything his friend wished ; besides, he had 
 a blow to return, a debt to pay incurred on his account for man 
 and hearse. He therefore talked loud, laughed during the 
 serious scenes, and wept at the comic ones, &c. At last, my 
 husband, feeling nervous, crept away from his party, and went 
 to the upper box opposite (the only place in which he could find 
 a seat). Here he congratulated himself upon being separated 
 
 I 
 
CHAKLES MATHEWS, 14d 
 
 from the noisy set below, and believed that he was completely 
 out of their ken. Unluckily, the performer of the Quaker 
 {Mattheio Daio) excited Theodore's risible propensities — not in 
 the sense where laughing is a compliment — when suddenly 
 Hook's eye caught that of Mr. Mathews, who had escaped to 
 what he hoped was security against any implication in his 
 friend's proceedings. Theodore now arose, and standing in the 
 front of the box, bowed with great respect and gravity ; addressing 
 the audience and begging their attention to a few words, he 
 
 said, " Ladies and gentlemen, you are pleased with Mr. , 
 
 the performer of the Quaker, who has hitherto deservedly met 
 with your approval in that character ; but I cannot allow you 
 to be ignorant that Mr. Mathews, the original performer of 
 Matthew Daw, is now in this theatre. The modesty insepa- 
 rable from real merit has induced him to conceal himself in a 
 retired situation ; but, ladies and gentlemen, if you will look up 
 to the top of the house, on your left hand, you will see him 
 sitting in that corner" (pointing his finger to the exact spotj. 
 
 What my husband felt at this moment may be imagined. He 
 declared to me that he could not have risen from his seat had 
 he expected to be shot for remaining in it. The effect upon the 
 audience, chiefly clodpoles and market-people, was merely a 
 vacant stare up to the corner to which they were directed, for 
 the name of Mathews was evidently strange to them, and no 
 positive idea was conveyed by the mention of it. One Matthew 
 Daw was as good to them as another, and thus it is probable 
 they would have thought that he of Croydon Fair was the best, 
 had an opportunity been given to them of judging of their com- 
 parative merits. 
 
 There was no end of these instances of frolicking, and Mr. 
 IJook could never resist a temptation to display some of his 
 inexhaustible stock of humour for the entertainment of his com- 
 panions. I will give another instance. 
 
 Mr. Mathews was one day driving him towards Blackheath, 
 and at the approach to Shooter's Hill the merciful owner of the 
 horse wished that he and his friend Theodore should descend 
 from the gig and walk up the steepest part of it. As they were 
 proceeding with this humane intent, a sort of ancient vehicle, 
 called, for want of a more definite character, " a one-horse 
 chaise," upon four wheels, appeared, slowly descending the 
 steep. It was an unusually cumbrous and large-headed car- 
 riage, and more remarkable in that day, when smart single- 
 horse carriages had long superseded such lumbering conveyances. 
 
 L 
 
146 THE LIFE AND COERESPONDENCE OF 
 
 The first notice of the approach of this vehicle was a loud laugh 
 from Theodore, before, however, he was Dear enough to be heard 
 by the driver. The old and new carriages now approached. The 
 one ascending paused in order to give its horse time to recover 
 his pull ; and at this moment Mr. Hook placed himself immedi- 
 ately in front of the large, awkward, yet well-cared-for animal 
 that was sustaining the enormous machine alluded to, and which 
 was occupied by a very old man and woman, coeval as it seemed 
 with their carriage. When they found their modest and in- 
 offensive progress interfered with, they stared in silence at the 
 cause of such impediment. Mr. Hook, with great respect, took 
 off his hat, and bowiing to the old lady and gentleman (for such 
 they evidently were), inquired whether it was really their inten- 
 tion to enter London in that carriage ? The driver, unwilling 
 to be behindhand in courtesy, politel}^ took off his hat also, and 
 answered that " he certahily was proceeding to London." Mr. 
 Hook, then assuming the tone and language of a man who was 
 unwilling to see his fellow- creatures betrayed into a position 
 that was likely to render them ridiculous, asked earnestly, 
 " whether the driver was aware of the consequences of entering 
 the metropolis in such a conveyance ?" apprising him, that such a 
 one had not been seen there for the last century. The old 
 gentleman looked at his wife, amazed and perplexed, but con- 
 tinued silent. His kind adviser, still at the horse's head, again 
 remonstrated against their progress, declaring that the gentle- 
 man would repent it if he persevered, and conjured the old lady 
 to influence her husband to turn back. The old people looked 
 at each other again earnestly. The gentleman seemed para- 
 lysed with amazement at such an address, when his intrepid 
 adviser, giving a searching look under the hood where the two 
 faces were ensconced, started back with affected surprise, and 
 exclaimed aloud to his companion, who had been silently won- 
 dering at the nerve which enabled him to make such an attack, 
 " Now I look again, the man and woman are greater gigs than 
 the buggy ! Oh," continued he, addressing the travellers 
 more resolutely, " you really must not proceed. Allow me to 
 turn your nag's head round." He then suited the action to the 
 word, leading Dobbin a short distance up the hill again, who, 
 nothing loth to retrace his way home, struggled upwards, without 
 any obvious attempt from his master to prosecute his first design 
 of proceeding to town. How the old gentleman ultimately settled 
 the matter with himself and his wife was not known, as his 
 saucy director remounted his friend's light conveyance, and could 
 
CHAKLES MATHEWS. 147 
 
 only look back a brief period, when certainly the headed chaise 
 was slowly following them. 
 
 But I must not attempt to set down all I could tell of this 
 extraordinary and always amusing result of leisure and love of 
 " fun," coupled with an excess of animal spirits. I understand 
 Mr. Hook, in riper years, has turned to good account these 
 frolics of his " green and salad days" in his papers of "Gilbert 
 Grurney," which I have never seen in a collected form; but in 
 the numbers I have read I have found one or two of his former 
 drolleries (there ascribed to Mr. Daly), and to the masterly hand 
 of the original I refer the curious for a better version of those 
 anecdotes than my poor pen can furnish. 
 
 l2 
 
148 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 Mr. Mathews in Maw-worm — Origin of the sermon from the screen, in "The 
 Hypocrite" — The Four-in-hand Club — Farce of " Hit or Miss" — Offer from 
 Mr. Arnold — Re-opening of the Lyceum Theatre — Cottage at Fulham— 
 Proposal from Mr. Elliston — Mr. Mathews's reception at Liverpool. 
 
 0?r the 25th of September, 1809, the Lyceum opened, under the 
 h'cence of the Lord Chamberlain, and the joint management of 
 Messrs. Arnold and Raymond.* The success was very great, 
 but more confirmed as the season advanced. 
 
 All theatrical people and play-goers will remember the great 
 effect produced by the revival on this occasion, after thirty years, 
 of the comedy of " The Hypocrite," and the fine acting which 
 made it so popular and attractive. I am justified in asserting 
 that Mr. Mathews's Maw-worm stood next in comic excellence 
 and truth to Mr. Dowton's exquisite performance of Doctor 
 Cantwell, The following testimony of the general impression 
 bears out my assertion : 
 
 Ziyceum Theatre. 
 
 Mr. Mathews kept the house in a roar of laughter by his apt manage- 
 ment of Maw-worm. It was an admirable representation of " Praise 
 God Barebones," — an exact portraiture of one of those ignorant en- 
 thusiasts who lose sight of all good while they are vainly hunting after 
 an ideal perfectibility. 
 
 Mrs. Edwin and ' Mrs. Orger were the Charlotte and Young 
 Lady Lambert. These two beautiful women and accomplished 
 actresses, by their excellent performance, made the comedy 
 perfect. In order to complete this account of the performance 
 of " The Hypocrite," it may be best to introduce here one of 
 the detached portions of my husband's Autobiography : 
 
 At this period spencers came into wear.f To those w^io may not 
 remember the fashion, it may be necessary to describe this curious 
 
 * Mr. Arnold, the son of Doctor Arnold, the musical composer. 
 + Introduced, I believe, by Lord Spencer for a wager, he having asserted, 
 ■while commenting on the absurdities of fashion, that if any person of con- 
 
CHAKLES MATHEWS. 149 
 
 coatee. It was a garment calculated only to guard the upper portion of 
 the person from cold. It buttoned close up to the throat, but extended 
 no further down than the hips, the skirts being entirely omitted, and 
 the lower man necessarily lett unguarded; it was, therefore, of course 
 only calculated for pedestrians. It was a lucky fancy for the actors, 
 who profited by the fiishion. Bannister made the first hit in " The 
 Prize," when, on being asked where his tailor lived, he replied, " Upon 
 the skirts of the town." 
 
 The mountebanks^ of the conventicle took advantage of it also, and 
 made their hits. I once heard one of the unwashed tribe utter an 
 elegant and appropriate sarcasm upon the raging folly. So fleeting is 
 the fame of an actor, that there are but few even of my own acquaint- 
 ance, and those principally behind the scenes, who are aware that this 
 accidental circumstance gave rise to " the sermon," as it is called, which 
 is now supposed by the unread in the drama to be part and parcel of 
 the play of " The Hypocrite ;" and that my excellent Iriend, Liston, is 
 entirely indebted to me for giving him the hint to perform Maw-worm^ 
 since made his own, and on which a part of his well-earned fame has 
 been founded. On my secession from the regular drama, in consequence 
 of my unfortunate accident, he took a fancy to this part ; but I shall 
 relate the circumstance to which I allude. The play was revived after 
 the destruction of Drury-lane Theatre by fire, at the Lyceum, to which 
 theatre the company were driven in their distress ; and " being burnt 
 out from over the way," the business was carried on there — Dowton, Dr, 
 Canttoell. It was a complete hit. My early knowledge of the family ot 
 the Maw-worms gave me an opportunity of depicting with truth, at all 
 events, the tones and manners of such a character. It was highly 
 effective ; but as the author, or rather translator, Bickerstaff*, has given 
 him only one scene in the play — for the few lines in the last are so 
 tri^ng that he is almost a cipher — I was discontented with the insig- 
 nificant situation in the concluding scene, and made bold to try an 
 experiment, directly in the teeth of the advice of my immortal 
 instructor, who says, " Let your clowns say no more than is set down 
 for them." Finding our play firmly established with the public, I 
 concocted a speech or harangue ; and cautiously keeping my secret, I 
 quietly retired one night (the third or fourth of its run) from the 
 characters concerned with Cantwell, when he boldly declares himself to 
 be a villain, and at his exit suddenly presented myself behind the 
 screen, perched on a table which I had caused to be placed there, and, 
 to the amazement of my brother actors, bawled out, exactly in the tone 
 of dear old daddy Berridge — * 
 
 *' Stay, ye infatuated wretches ! ye know not what ye do ! the doctor 
 
 dition were to appear in only the upper part of his coat, the whimsical ex- 
 ample would be followed. 
 
 * This sermon is put down from memory, a blank being left in Mr, 
 Mathews's manuscript where it ought to have been, and Mr. Listou, who 
 has kindly furnished me with it, is in doubt whether he has recollected the 
 whole J but I can answer for that portion given being correct . 
 
150 THE LIFE AND CORKESPONDENCE OF 
 
 is innocent ! Touch not a hair of his precious head — do not ruffle a 
 curl of his gracious wig ! I repeat, he is innocent ! But ye will be 
 the sufferers ! I have one great* — one glorious consoldL-ation ! ye will 
 all go to the devil for what ye are doing ! This is my consoh-ation ; 
 and when it is too late, ye will repent. When ye see me mount and 
 leave ye to your fate, ye will want my aid. Ye will cling to me — ye 
 will try to lay hold of the skirts of my coat ; hut I will fling ye alii 
 for I will wear a Spencer /" 
 
 So great was the effect at this unexpected address, that it was ever 
 after an indispensable feature ; and such was the reputation of our 
 revival of the play in London, that Dowton, Mrs. Edwin, and myself, 
 were engaged to act the three characters at Liverpool. This sermon, 
 as it has since been designated, was of course expected and delivered. 
 Powerful as the effect had been in London, it was tame, compared to 
 the extraordinary sensation it created at Liverpool. I was quite unpre- 
 pared for such uproarious demonstrations of delight, and at a loss to 
 account for their expression — roars of laughter, cries of bravo, and at 
 length encore. This was the first time the speech had been so honoured 
 (though the precedent was followed in London on my return). The 
 repetition of the play was as loudly called for, and the call was fre- 
 quently obeyed. Upon my leaving the stage (the first night), the 
 proprietor, Mr. Lewis, shook me by the hand, congratulated me on this 
 hit, and said, " What a lucky thought ! who put it into your head ? 
 where did you hear of him ?" " Whom ?" said I. " Why, Spencer." 
 " Of Spencer," said I ; " why, you don't understand my point. It is 
 an allusion to an ephemeral fashion of twenty-five years back ; and you 
 imagined that I was personal ?" " Why, of course I did," replied he. 
 " Are you really ignorant, then, of the fact ; and is this only a singular 
 coincidence ? Perhaps the most popular dissenting preacher ever known 
 in Liverpool is at this moment drawing together the most crowded 
 congregations in the largest chapel in the town, and his name is 
 Spencer; and the regular church-goers thought it a most excellent hit, 
 and have applauded it accordingly," I had never heard of him, and 
 certainly the accidental circumstance was curious. " Never mind," said 
 he ; " we shall have as many overflows as Spencer." When my lame- 
 ness gave me small hopes of return to the stage, Listen expressed to 
 me his wish to act Maw-worm in the country, as he was then going a 
 tour, but was surprised, upon reading the part as printed, to find how 
 inefficient it was without the extra aid of my^ screen harangue, he 
 himself hardly being aware of my being the first interpolator. I then 
 furnished him with the address I had uttered, and which has gained 
 him such notoriety. But I have often smiled bitterly at the evanescent 
 nature of an actor's fame. A short period only was necessary to cause 
 the effect to be forgotten which I certainly had originally produced in 
 that character both in and out of London, and which I had flattered 
 myself would not so soon fail to be remembered, for it certainly was a 
 
 * The lines in italics are those quoted from the preacher mentioned by Mr. 
 Mathews. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 151 
 
 portrait from the life. I have repeatedly been amused since hy questions 
 on the subject, such as, " Did you ever see Listen in Maw-worm T* 
 and " Of course, you have heard him preach his sermon ? I'm told 
 there never was anything but a song encored before that speech. Is it 
 true that he was the first that ever thought of it, and that it is not in 
 the play ? They say Weston did not introduce it." Others have said, 
 ** I believe Liston was the original Maw-worm.'* 
 
 At this period the mania for driving " four-in-hand" was at 
 its acme. A certain number of gentlemen formed themselves 
 into a society, called, in the slang of the day, the " Bang-up 
 Club." The members of it were men of fashion, and generally 
 l)ossessing large fortunes. They had carriages built like stage- 
 coaches, which they drove themselves, and to preclude the sus- 
 picion of any sordid motive for so doing, each gentleman allowed 
 his coachman to sit on his left-hand upon the box, with the 
 privilege of witnessing, at his ease, his master's skill in " handling 
 the ribands." These carnages were not "licensed to carry" even 
 one inside, and in order to satisfy everybody upon this point, the 
 blinds were invariably drawn up. 
 
 The costume of each gentleman consisted of a bottle-green 
 body-coat, a milk-white double-breasted great-coat reaching to 
 the heels, several large capes, and buttons of mother-of-pearl, as 
 lar^ as crown-pieces; a many-flowered bouquet in a button-hole 
 at the side ; upon the head a low-crowned broad-brimmed hat, 
 with a broad riband and buckle, the hair sleeked down under it, 
 coachman-like. On certain days, the members of the " Four-in- 
 hand Club" met at their leader's door, and proceeded with their 
 vehicles to Salthill, or some other agreeable place within a drive, 
 to dine and return at night. Their horses were of the most per- 
 fectly beautiful kind that could be purchased. 
 
 It was not to be expected that those who catcli " the manners 
 living as they rise," could overlook this extraordinary furore 
 while it raged, and a farce called " Hit or Miss" was produced 
 from the pen of Mr. Pocock, with a mere outline (as it often 
 happened) for Mr. Mathews to fill up. His character was of 
 course the one that touched upon the peculiarities of the club, 
 and he presented a faithful copy of its dress, using all the slang 
 of that day, which I fear was too often employed at the time by 
 those not " unto the manner born." It was, however, very 
 amusing in itself, and the character of Dick Cypher was a 
 faithful copy of a young man of good family (then in the law), 
 who contrived to mix up this jargon with the most gentleman- 
 
] 52 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 like manner and character. He was delighted at Mr. Mathews's 
 representing him in this anonymous way, and furnished him with 
 most of the terms used. It was a fair hit at " the fancy." The 
 members of the club took this " show up" with great good 
 humour. When the piece was in its first attraction, they some- 
 times invited Mr. Mathews to accompany them in their drives, 
 when in their full costume and cavalcade, and he generally was 
 preferred to a seat on the box, for which the nominal coach- 
 man was displaced — nay, they seemed as if they were anxious 
 to prove that his representation of them had not given offence. 
 
 Notwithstanding this, it is not improbable that this pointed 
 though inoffensive satire caused a more speedy termination of 
 this extraordinary whim than would otherwise have taken 
 place, and perhaps gave the club an excuse for dropping an 
 expense which even to men of large fortune must have been felt 
 as enormous. 
 
 The great feature of the whole of Mr. Mathews's represen- 
 tation, however, was the " Prime Bang-up " song, which 
 remained popular until its point was succeeded by some newer 
 fashion of expression amongst the ingenious inventors of such 
 quaint vocabularies. 
 
 The ensuing month brought the following reiterated offer 
 from Mr. Arnold. 
 
 To Mr. Mathews. 
 
 Sept. 7th, 1810, 31, Golden -square. 
 
 Dear Sib, — The Lord Chamberlain having renewed the licence 
 granted last season to Mr. T. Sheridan, myself, and Mr. Greville, for 
 the benefit of the Driiry-lane concern, and which was obtained with the 
 consent and approbation of the trustees of that property ; I have the 
 pleasure again to offer you and Mrs. Mathews an engagement, and 
 have only delayed repeating that offer until those difficulties were 
 removed which induced you to decline two former invitations, and which 
 I am happy to understand no longer exist. 
 
 I am, dear sir, very truly yours, S. J. Arnold. 
 
 At the close of the Hay market, the reopening of the Lyceum 
 found Mr. Mathews there for a time, in pursuance of his original 
 undertaking, and he was rapturously greeted on his reappear- 
 ance in Maw-worm. On this moderately-sized stage, as at the 
 Haymarket, his acting was seen to most advantage ; for at this 
 period, perhaps, his manner had not acquired breadth sufficient, 
 or his voice enough power, to fill the vast sphere he appeared in 
 during the former winter seasons ; yet, notwithstanding his 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 153 
 
 growing popularity, he still retained his resolution to quit the 
 present management. To one accustomed to the old regime, 
 the new seemed divested of all comfort and distinction ; besides 
 which, his circumstances demanded that he should make a bold 
 effort to set himself free from some pecuniary difficulties, which 
 at the beginning of this year had crept over him imperceptibly. 
 These difficulties were occasioned by the somewhat inconsiderate 
 purchase of a cottage, which, in his overweening love for a rural 
 residence, he had prematurely bought of General Bradshaw, in 
 the King's-road, Fulham, although he could not conceal from 
 himself that the first outlay and expense of supporting it must 
 inevitably prevent him from enjoying it except by snatches. 
 To this was added the resignation of one third of his regular 
 income in London, owing to my retirement from the stage at 
 the end of the last Haymarket season — a circumstance which, 
 however desirable as a matter of feeling to us both, was 
 altogether imprudent. Mr. Mathews, it is true, had long 
 meditated taking me from the stage, my unconquerable timidity 
 having always rendered it a painful pursuit to me ; and, after 
 the unfortunate fire at Drury-lane Theatre, the new interests 
 and mfluences which came into play, decided the long-pending 
 question as to my retirement ; and I quitted the stage. 
 
 When his term at the Lyceum expired, he set off to his 
 several engagements in Liverpool, Ireland, &c., leaving me in a 
 sort of Noah's Ark, which sheltered every bird and beast that 
 he could collect before he went. His benefit at the Lyceum, on 
 the 3rd of June, proved good : on that occasion he performed 
 Trudge in " Inkle and Yarico;" a scene from "My Grandmother," 
 in which he played Dicky Gossip, after the manner of the late 
 Mr. Suett; and in the afterpiece of "The Critic," the two 
 widely-differing characters of Pm^ and Sir Fretful Plagiary ;* 
 but his receipts, though liberal lor a small theatre, were not 
 more than sufficient to liquidate a portion of the claims which 
 an inadequate income too often creates where youth is uncalcu- 
 lating and generous, and when there is little judgment and less 
 experience to direct good principle and honest intention. 
 
 As soon as Mr. Mathews's intention of not returnins' to the 
 Lyceum was announced (that being then the only regular winter 
 theatre), he received divers proposals and applications ; amongst 
 them, one from Mr. EUiston, who, after the fire at Drury-lane, 
 had headed a minor establishment of his own.* 
 
 * Since distinguished as ** Madame Vestris' Royal Olympic Theatre." 
 
154 TFIE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 To Mr. diaries Mathews. 
 
 April 6th, 1811. 
 
 Deah Mathews, — I have reconsidered our conversation of Thursday 
 evening, and it' you are serious upon the matter as i"ara, the affair may 
 be brought to a speedy decision. 
 
 By the period of the close of the Lyceum Theatre, I will have a piece 
 ready, in which your particular powers shall be shown to the best ad- 
 vantage, and I shall require your efforts for a space of six weeks ; for 
 which period I will give you 50Z. per week, and a 100/!. note for the 
 advantage of your name at a benefit, you giving me all tlie assistance 
 you may be pleased to make for the advantage of my receipt on that 
 night. I trust this proposal will be as liberal as you can have 
 expected; and if no impediment beyond a pecuniary consideration 
 should arise, I shall be very willing to close the negociation as speedily 
 as possible, that proper preparation may be made for your appearance 
 on the boards of my theatre. 
 
 Yours truly, E. W. Elliston. 
 
 It may be asked vihy Mr. Mathews, under his circumstances, 
 rejected such obviously liberal terms. The answer simply is, that 
 he did not choose to appear in any except the patent theatres, 
 and in the regular drama, which hitherto he had seen sustained 
 with a reputation which had, it is true, received a shock, but, 
 which he believed was not overthrown ; and he was too fond of 
 his profession to do anything that he conceived would disgrace a, 
 first-rate professor. At the period to which I allude the drama 
 was considered, even by the nobility and the fashionable world, 
 not quite as a matter of indifference. Such being the respect 
 in which the legitimate drama was held by the public, Mr. 
 Mathews felt his own position in it ought to be maintained ; 
 and he, therefore, persisted in his scheme of visiting the 
 •►provinces rather than retrograde in London. Accordingly, in 
 June he acted at Liverpool, where he had not appeared since 
 his first engagement there in the season of 1803, and then as 
 one of the regular company. 
 
 On the 21st he commenced this engagement, and his reception 
 was not the less warm, it may be supposed, in consequence of 
 the increased approval of a London audience since his first 
 appearance in that town. Indeed, his matured powers were 
 rapturously acknowledged; and in his many subsequent visits 
 to Liverpool his popularity was to the tnd unimpaired. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS 155 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Actors' lives — Mr. Mathews's letters from Liverpool and Dublin — His first 
 appearance in Ireland, 1794 — The Irish Barber, &c. 
 
 It is a popular error that actors earn their money easily, and 
 that no labour attends their vocation. This mistake has led 
 many an idle, unqualified person into the profession, and after- 
 wards upon the profession, in the way of charity. According to 
 the preceding letter, in a moderate morning's work four hours 
 ar<r occupied in the wear and tear of mental as well as bodily 
 power ; and in the evening, from six till twelve the performer's 
 mind and person are again upon the continual stretch of anxiety 
 and fatigue. Ten hours out of the common labourer's term for 
 work are here accounted for, but it often happens that the whole 
 twelve are so occupied ; in addition to which, many, after their 
 long day and night of toil and excitement, are under the necessity 
 of stealing hours from requisite repose, in order to acquire matter 
 for future occasion. Little wonder should there be that so few 
 excel, when olten there is scarcely time allowed for more than 
 learning the words of their characters. How, then, can study, 
 without which excellence was never attained, or popularity pre- 
 served, be expected ? It is a common observation of simple 
 people, after witnessing any striking performance of length (and 
 this was often apphed to Mr. Mathews's pecuhar talent), "I 
 wonder how he remembers it all." They should rather wonder 
 how he found time in the first instance to become acquainted 
 with what his memory afterwards furnished to his hearers. Mr. 
 Mathews's habit, from his earliest professional life, was to sit up 
 all night, and as many nights as he found it requisite, to study 
 for an3^ particular purpose ; for he really studied. Can it be a 
 matter, then, of surprise tliat such fatigue should at last show 
 itself in a complicated form ? His life was that of a blacksmith, 
 with this difference, that his mind constantly lifted a hammer as 
 well as his body. 
 
 On the 14th of July Mr. Mathews arrived in Dublin, his first 
 visit there since the days of his boyhood and starvation in 1794. 
 
156 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 The "London star," assured as he had been for a long time by 
 approving audiences, and confirmed in talent and reputation, felt 
 less exultation at the expectation of his present reception than 
 when first, " elate and gay, he stepped forth to take possession 
 of the world," full of hope, and unsuspicious of the struggles 
 and hardships in store for him. His own letters on this occasion 
 are all I possess relative to his reception and success in Ireland. 
 It is remarkable, that during the whole of his life Mr. Mathews 
 collected, and preserved with the nicest care, all that was pub- 
 lished, in the way of criticism, of other principal performers, 
 but never sought or kept anything about himself. The same 
 negligence was shown in his vast collection of engravings. He 
 piqued himself upon possessing every impression extant of every 
 print representing actors and actresses generally, from the days 
 of Shakspeare, but had none of himself but what happened to 
 have been sent as presents from artists or publishers, so that I 
 have to regret that I do not possess several good likenesses, now 
 not easily to be obtained, as well as much matter of interest 
 relating to him. 
 
 Here is an interesting letter, written to me shortly after his 
 arrival in Dublin, 
 
 To Mrs, Mathews. 
 
 Dublin, July 18th, 1811. 
 
 I was quite in raptures at the sight of your letters this morning, 
 having been so many days without hearing from you. You are the 
 best of o:ood wives for sending me such a long letter : it was quite a 
 treat. 1 have delivered the General's letter this morning. I am gltid 
 he did not write more, for my only misery already is knowing too many 
 people. I have half a dc^^en invitations for every day, but I select the 
 quiet domestic parties, if I can. I have renewed my acquaintance with 
 the only persons I knew here in the days of my starvation, and who 
 
 are now prosperous people, a Mr, and Mrs. H ; he French, she 
 
 Yorkshire. I went with them yesterday to their country house at 
 Dunleary, four miles from Dublin, in one of the most enchanting spots 
 upon earth. I cut all parties, and dined with them alone. Went three 
 miles to sea in the evening in a boat. Fished : caught whitings, eels, 
 flounders. Incledon and I have no trouble in providing,* for it is 
 impossible to dine at home. At present I am only acting three times a 
 week — pleasant enough, but takes up too much of my time. I ex- 
 pected Incledon and Mrs. Dickons would act together about four nights, 
 instead of which they act the alternate nights — no bad compliment to 
 my attractions. My first night was better than any of theirs, and the 
 best stock nightf since the opening in the winter. But here there is 
 
 * Mr. Incledou, who had taken up his abode at the same hotel with him. 
 + Nights that ai-e not " benefits." 
 
CHARLES MATHEWJ5. 157 
 
 nothing but croaking, like Liverpool. " All ruined ;" — " hot weather ;'* 
 — " everybody out of town," and so on. However, there are plenty 
 left to come to the theatre, that I can see. I opened on Tuesday night 
 in Lord Oglehy and Buskin. The former went as well as I could 
 wish ; but in the farce, I can only say, I wish you had been there to 
 witness it. I was in tip- top spirits with my reception, and played my 
 best. The account I gave you of Liverpool was just the different 
 calculation between the warmth of English and Irish. I spoke the 
 line from Rolla — " We want no change !" like Kerable. This was the 
 first signal for row. It is no exaggeration to say, I had five rounds of 
 applause. Then I gave them a touch of Lewis, which was equally 
 noticed ; but when I gave them his " whoop !" it touched the proper 
 chord, for it is precisely the noise which they make here in the galleries 
 when they are more than usually pleased. It was immediately echoed 
 in chorus, and at my exit "A clap for Mathyes!" was proposed, and 
 three rounds were given. In the next scene I sung "The Mail-coach." 
 At the end of the first verse I had another round of " whoops !" A 
 uif5versal encore ensued, and it was loudly called for a third time; but 
 they expressed their disapprobation, not by hissing, as in England, but, 
 " No, no ! — too much !" I could hardly keep my countenance at the 
 oddity of their noises, whenever I hit them. The whole farce went 
 equally well, and better than ever I saw it before. " Bartlemy Fair" 
 was as great a hit as the other. In short, I never played to such a 
 delightful audience in my life. I received congratulations after it was 
 over from everybody, as if it were a first night in London, and all my 
 future reputation depended on my reception. It is universally agreed 
 that no farce ever went off so well on a first night in Dublin, and also 
 that mine is an unusual hit. 
 
 Ever yours, Chaeles Mathews. 
 
 During Mr. Mathews's first visit to Ireland in 1794, Daly's 
 cruelty- system of not paying the salaries to those whose humble 
 position in the theatre precluded their insisting upon redress, 
 placed him at length in the most unpleasant dilemma imaginable. 
 His very proper reluctance to solicit pecuniary favours from 
 strangers, and his natural pride in rejecting the alternative of 
 applying to his own family, thereby confessing the fallacious 
 attempt he had made to live independently of his father in the 
 profession which he had chosen in opposition to parental wishes, 
 left him in a really distressing situation. He would not confess 
 the starving condition into which his headlong predilection had. 
 cast him, which not only shut him out from any appeal to his 
 relations, but from seeking temporary assistance from his friends, 
 whose advice he had equally opposed. Nay, even to those upon 
 the spot, who knew the extent of Daly's avarice (for it was 
 notorious that he did not want the means of paying his per- 
 
158 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 formers, since he himself indulged in every luxury), he felt 
 equally unwilling to confess his want of resources. He had 
 become deeply indebted to his landlord, whom he had put off 
 from week to week, as Daly had led him on with hopes of 
 payment, and the man became daily more importunate. 
 
 One night, at the close of the performance, the poor, penniless, 
 supperless young man, returning to his lodging, found the door 
 closed against him ! His landlord appeared at the window of 
 the first floor, and announced his determination not to let him 
 in, unless he could assure him of immediate payment of his 
 arrears. In vain the poor debtor entreated — in vain he en- 
 deavoured to make his creditor relent. He then reminded the 
 man that he held a security for ultimate payment in his whole 
 wardrobe (not altogether despicable), and a fine violin, itself 
 sufficient to indemnify him. These were all offered to be 
 formally delivered over to him, and might be deemed more than 
 equivalent to his claim ; but nothing would move the stern 
 creditor, w^ho was so steeled against his young lodger, that 
 nothing less than the current coin of the realm would satisfy 
 him. A change of linen was then entreated, until the next 
 evening gave him power to claim the rest of his property. Even 
 this small boon was resolutely refused, and the window was at 
 length abruptly closed ! The poor, houseless, miserable being 
 stood for a time utterly incapable of thought. At length it 
 occurred to him to seek the wretched abode of the hair-dresser, 
 who daily frizzed and powdered his head. He had a twofold 
 claim upon this man's attention, for his wife was his laundress. 
 When he reached the house he made known his destitute con- 
 dition, and the poor people listened to his story with every 
 demonstration of kindness. After a moment's whisper with her 
 husband, the wife, " on hospitable cares intent," left the shop 
 where they were standing, and, just as Mr. Mathews had re- 
 quested leave to stretch himself upon the floor of their small 
 tenement for the night, the poor woman returned, her face 
 smiling with benevolence, and in a tone of exultation informed 
 "the master" that his bed was ready! It was vain for him to 
 refuse. He knew they had but two apartments — the little shop, 
 and the " paylour," which, like a cobbler's stall, served them also 
 " kitchen and hall :" — he would not consent to occupy their only 
 bed. After a long war of kindly words, however, the young 
 comedian was absolutely hustled by husband and wife into their 
 little dormitory, where he saw in one corner a three-legged table, 
 with some " cowld pratees," in their native jackets displayed, a 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 139 
 
 cupful of salt, and a whiskey-bottle, by way of persuader to this 
 inviting repast ; and on the other side of the room stood a narrow, 
 rickety bedstead, let down by hinges from its protecting shell, 
 displaying a patched but clean pillow-case, and a " turnover" of 
 a few inches of linen, which gave similar evidences of cleanliness 
 and industry. Here, after another struggle on all sides for 
 supremacy of generosity, the barber and his wife were the victors. 
 It was, in fact, two to one against the comedian ; he found him- 
 self over[)owered by numbers, and was eventually locked into 
 his bed-chamber by the hand of his hospitable little barber, when 
 he and his wife, doubtless, occupied the space behind the 
 counter — the only one large enough to receive them in a longi- 
 tudinal position. When the young guest had given way to his 
 melancholy reflections, and sipped moderately a mild dilution of 
 the crathur, he prepared to retire to bed. He found upon his 
 pillow a sort of an apology for a night-shirt. The laundress's 
 experience of "the master's" habits had taught her that such a 
 thing was required by him ; and unfortunately, as this visit 
 happened in the evening of the day when all " the master's" 
 linen had been taken home, she had not one of his own to supply 
 him with ; therefore a coarse something, resembling what is 
 worn outwardly by waggoners in the provinces of England, was 
 substituted. At first he hesitated to employ it ; but reflecting 
 that he must otherwise sleep in the one he had on, and that he 
 must necessarily wear that the next day, his destitution urged 
 him to try on the garment supplied from his host's stock, in 
 which, however it might fall short of what he had been accus- 
 tomed to wear, he contentedly lay down, first carefully folding 
 and placing his own linen on the bed, fearing that the moveables 
 in the room might not serve as bleaching-machines if he laid it 
 upon any of the chairs. In the midst of his sorrows he at last 
 fell asleep ; but towards the morning, which, being in the dark 
 season of the year, he conceived to be " the middle of the 
 night" — that period, so called by the people of late habits, 
 which comes an hour or two before their usual time of rising — 
 he thought he heard the key turn in the lock, as if a stealthy 
 attempt was made to open it. The sleeper was, however, too 
 drowsy to be capable of ascertaining the fact, and Ije dozed oif 
 again, but soon heard another attempt upon the door. He 
 called out, " Who's there ?" — the noise ceased. Again he slept ; 
 again he was disturbed. At last, after another pause, he was 
 once more startled from his sleep by something cautiously 
 creeping about his small apartment. The certainty that some 
 
160 THE LIFE AND COERESPONDENCE OF 
 
 person was in the room, and for some secret purpose, was not 
 very agreeable. He remained silent, holding his breath, and 
 waiting the result. At length a hand touched the top of the 
 bed-clothes, and as soon shrunk away, as if alarmed at its own 
 temerity. The young man shuddered. It was impossible, he 
 thought, that the owners of the apartment would think of 
 visiting him in this way. His only conjecture was, that instead 
 of occupying the shop, as he supposed they had done, they had 
 possibly left the house to obtain some better accommodation for 
 the night, and that some intruder had taken advantage of their 
 absence to rob at least, if not murder, their sleeping guest, 
 naturally supposing that he might possess something worth the 
 attempt. He was soon, however, relieved from the most terrible 
 part of his fears by the evident retreat of his untimely visitor, 
 who, as he drew the door of the room after him, whispered in a 
 hoarse, and, as it appeared to the alarm.ed occupant, a -murderous 
 voice, to somebody without, " I've got it !" Got what ? asked 
 the trembling comedian of himself, and he stretched out his 
 hand to the chair upon which his coat and nether garments had 
 been laid when he undressed ; these were safe. Wondering, 
 therefore, what could have been the object of this secret visit, 
 and keeping watch till day began to look in upon his deplorable 
 state, he sunk into a heavy slumber, from which he did not 
 awake till the day was " well aired." He then perceived his 
 humane gaoler enter, with shaving-pot, powder-bag, and " all 
 appliances and means to boot" for completing a "jintleman's'* 
 toilette, as far as head was concerned in that day, who, smiling 
 with a proud and gratified expression, bowed to " the master," 
 and proposed to commence the accustomed operation of the 
 morning, tirst stifling in their very birth all thanks for the over- 
 night's kindness, and regret at the sacrifice it had occasioned 
 his entertainers. The young man then revealed the terrors of 
 the night to the hair-dresser, who listened to the relation with 
 a somewhat embarrassed, and what seemed to his visitor a sus- 
 picious air. He certainly neither attempted to account for the 
 mysterious disturbance of his guest's slumbers, nor to explain 
 how the key had been obtained ; but hurriedly proposed that, as 
 it was a cold morning, and the fire and " his honour's" breakfast 
 were not quite ready, his "honour's goodness" would allow him 
 to throw his towel round his "honour's neck," and to dress 
 his "honour's head," as he sat up in bed. This was a very odd 
 sort of request, and was at first resolutely denied ; but Pat was 
 so anxiously earnest, that at last " his honour" consented to the 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 161 
 
 strange importunity of his host, and suffered the operation of 
 having his hair dressed in the position described. The process 
 was somewhat tedious, and "his honour" became impatient. 
 The barber arranged and re-arranged the curls — fidgeted from 
 one side of the bed to the other, when at last the door opened, 
 and in marched, in a triumphant manner, the laundress, with a 
 basket, which, with some parade, she placed upon a chair near 
 the bed, and lo ! the dark transaction of the night was eluci- 
 dated. On explanation, it appeared that some time after the 
 benevolent couple had laid themselves down and taken their 
 "lodging upon the cold ground," it occurred to the good laun- 
 dress that the " young master" would, according to custom, 
 require a change of linen in the morning, and she repented that 
 this after-thought came too late to enable her to execute her 
 wishes that night. " If she had ' mintioned' it to his honour 
 before he went to sleep she could have washed ' his honour's' 
 linen before the fire went out, and it would have been dry by 
 the morning." Having omitted to do so, she compromised the 
 matter with her conscience by rising earlier than usual, and 
 sending her husband stealthily into " the master's" room in the 
 morning, in order not to disturb him, to takeaway " the master's 
 eleven shirts short of the dozen," with other washable hangings, 
 that she might present him, as an agreeable surprise, with a set 
 of things in the state she knew his daily comfort required. As 
 the time was brief, and firing dull, these ablutions required more 
 time than she had calculated upon ; hence the expedient of the 
 worthy barber, and his contrivance to keep " his honour" longer 
 in bed than usual. 
 
 In this friendly shelter the young actor remained until he 
 wrung, by humiliating solicitations, a pound or two out of the 
 cruel grasp of Mr. Daly. He then reclaimed his little property 
 from his unfeeling landlord, and it may be imagined that he 
 repaid in every way in his power the kindness as well as the 
 actual claim of his humble friends. It may be also believed, 
 that in more prosperous times the " great London actor" did 
 not forget the service done to him by these worthy people while 
 he was only one of the most insignificant of " Daly's divarters." 
 On his first increase of income, Mr. Mathews sent a small 
 remittance to his poor little barber, with a promise to repeat it 
 periodically. That promise (which often proved inconvenient) 
 had been faithfully performed up to this time ; and as soon as he 
 paid this, his second visit to Ireland, after sixteen j^ears' absence, 
 his first thought was of his generous little friend, to whom he 
 
 M 
 
162 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 resolved to give a pleasing surprise in his way. For this pur- 
 pose, the first night of his arrival, he ordered that on the fol- 
 lowing morning a breakfast for three might be prepared ; at the 
 same time informing Mr. Incledon, who was in the house with 
 him, that he wished him to be present, to be introduced to a 
 very particular and distinguished guest, enjoining the master of 
 the house " to provide an excellent breakfast, for he expected 
 the company of the best friend he had in Dublin." The land- 
 lord, impressed with the notion which such a declaration implied, 
 namely, that some great man was expected, of whose friendship 
 the actor was vain, determined at once to obey his order in the 
 spirit in which he conceived it was given ; and forthwith, for 
 the credit of his own establishment on so distinguished an 
 occasion, he ordered his best service of china to be set out, and 
 all the plate that could be made available. A message was 
 then sent to the barber, simply to the effect that he was required 
 to operate upon a gentleman's chin (alas ! for the craft, powder 
 had ceased to be worn) at a certain hour, at which period Mr. 
 Mathews took care to secure his other guest in the room, and 
 everything but the " hissing urn," which, albeit emitting 
 sounds unmusical to an actor's ear, was requisite for the winding 
 up of the little plot of the present drama. Incledon had some- 
 what super-adorned his person on this occasion, out of respect 
 to his host's superior guest. At the appointed time the barber 
 was announced to be waiting without for his customer, and the 
 waiter who delivered the message was somewhat surprised to 
 hear himself ordered to admit this person into the breakfast- 
 room immediately. He obeyed ; and in a minute after appeared 
 the little man, arrayed in jacket and white apron, and shaving 
 appurtenances in hand, standing respectfully and doubtingly 
 upon the threshold of the door. He was not much altered; for 
 time had but little changed his benevolent features, and Mr. 
 Mathews would have known him had he not been prepared to 
 expect him. It was otherwise with himself; the slim half- 
 starved youth, with narrow, consumptive chest, and pale face, 
 had expanded into the full-grown, healthy man ; and his ruddy 
 cheeks and improved appearance were not easily to be recognized 
 without some clue as belonging to the once friendless, depressed 
 creature, who had been beholden to his humble friend's kindness. 
 Pat hesitated, and looking doubtfully first at one " jintleman'* 
 and then at the other, whose head was a little averted, inquired 
 respectfully " Which of their honours sent for him ?" Incledon 
 at once disowned the necessity for his services ; but the other 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 163 
 
 "jintleman" ran up to the astonished man, hastily relieved him 
 from the shaving utensils, placed them on the table, and in the 
 next minute made himself known to him. 
 
 The scene that followed was most interesting, as I have heard 
 it described by Mr. Incledon. The little barber was half mad 
 with gratified feeling. He was desired to sit down and eat the 
 breakfast (to him a dinner), and then to relate how he was 
 situated, whether his wife lived, &c. This he did, after some 
 scruples at such a freedom, and all was told. The breakfast 
 ended, and " the master's" affairs requiring his presence else- 
 where, the little barber (whose name 1 have forgotten) was dis- 
 missed, with an assurance that his friend would call the next 
 day upon his wife, and take a peep at his old dormitory. 
 
 It may easily be imagined how surprised the landlord of the 
 hotel was ; but he was a good-hearted Irishman, and enjoyed 
 the scene (of which the bringing in of the urn had made him a 
 witness), and laughed heartily at his own extra preparations. 
 The barber found an increase to his pension in the next instal- 
 ment ; and he and his wife, like the good children in the story- 
 book, " lived happy ever after." Mr. Mathews was not in the 
 habit of talking of his own good actions ; but when a mixture of 
 drollery tempted him to relate any of them, he could not always 
 resist ; and he never repeated the scene I have so poorly de- 
 scribed without his hearers, after their first laugh, being almost 
 moved to tears. 
 
 A few years after this incident, during one of his frequent 
 engagements in Dublin, Mr, Mathews saw his worthy little 
 friend expire in the very bed (though much improved in its 
 appearance) which he had once given up to him, and upon 
 which he blessed him for the last time. It may be believed 
 that the poor widow, who had a half claim upon her husband's 
 pension, felt no diminution of it, but continued to enjoy the 
 advantage entire. 
 
 V2 
 
16.^ THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Provincial wanderings — Partnership with Mr. Incledon — Dissolution of part- 
 nership— Ee-appearance at Haymarket Theatre — First appearance of Mr. 
 Mathews at Covent Gai-den, in "Love, Law, and Physic" — Mr. Mathews's 
 imitation of Lord Ellenborough in the character of Flexible — The conse- 
 quences — Imitation of Mr. Braham — Mr. Mathews's imitation at Carlton 
 House before the Prince Regent — Mrs. Jordan. 
 
 For the next twelvemonths Mr. Mathews led a wandering life, 
 appearing at most of the principal provincial theatres in England, 
 and always with the greatest success. In the month of November 
 he joined fortune with Mr. Charles Incledon,* the celebrated 
 singer, with whom he projected what is now called in theatrical 
 parlance a " duologue entertainment," consisting of character 
 impersonations, songs, imitations, &c. ; but, though eminently 
 successful, the partners were ill-matched, and the firm was 
 speedily broken up. Mr. Mathews continued acting in the 
 country on his own account, and on the 15th of May, 1812, he 
 returned to London on the occasion of the reopening of the 
 Haymarket Theatre, and was received by the public with the 
 most flattering demonstrations of welcome. 
 
 Early in October Mr. Mathews made his first appearance as a 
 regular performer at Covent Garden Theatre,t in the Protean 
 character of Bushin in "Killing no Murder," and was most 
 enthusiastically welcomed. It was observed upon this occasion, 
 that " the Bannisters, Caulfields, and Foote, might give you the 
 manner of others with precision, but that Mathews created the 
 matter for the manner, for which he was decidedly incom- 
 parable." 
 
 * Benjamin Charles Incledon, actor and vocalist, born 1764 ; originally a 
 common sailor, having served five years in the Royal Navy ; pronounced by all 
 who ever heard him to have been the sweetest of English baUad singers. 
 Died 3 826. 
 
 + It has been already mentioned that he performed there once, for the 
 benefit of Mr. T. Dibdin, in the year 1805, his original part of Triangle, in 
 the comedy of " Guilty or Not Guilty." 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 165 
 
 A farce, called " Sneiderkins," written expressly for Him, on 
 account of his extraordinary talent of transformation, was pro- 
 duced soon after Mr. Mathews joined the theatre. In this, as 
 the hero of the piece, his individual exertions were in themselves 
 successful ; but the farce was not relished by the audience, and, 
 though not altogether condemned, it died a natural death, being 
 probably withdrawn by Mr. Mathews's advice. 
 
 By the end of the same month another new piece, called 
 *' Love, Law, and Physic," was produced from the pen of Mr. 
 Kenney, which involved the representative of Flexible in some 
 subsequent embarrassment. The most prominent character in 
 the farce was given to Mr. Liston, whose Luhin Log must be 
 remembered by all who saw it. Mr. Mathews was not satisfied 
 with his part. It was one of those productions which he so 
 frequently had presented to him " to fill up for himself." A 
 friend wrote him a song, called " The Playhouse," to give 
 weight to his character ; besides this, he felt that his own 
 exertions to improve the part were, more than usually requisite. 
 In one of his assumptions, he had to give a description of a 
 barrister pleading in court. This, in order to be effective, he 
 thought necessary to do in the style of the public men he had 
 heard, and it produced the expected effect. But when he came 
 to give the judge's charge to the jury, which was an imitation 
 also,* the effect was quite astounding to him, for he had no 
 idea of its being so received. The shout of recognition and en- 
 joyment indeed was so alarming to his nerves, so unlike all 
 former receptions of such efforts, that he repented the attempt 
 in proportion as it was well taken ; and a call for it a second 
 time fairly upset him, albeit not unused to loud applause and 
 approbation. 
 
 The next day and the next the press was partially occupied 
 in objecting to and in defending the introduction of a subject by 
 the author, open in such hands to such effects. Just before the 
 commencement of the second performance of the piece, a noble 
 lord (now a marquis) requested an interview with Mr. Mathews 
 at the theatre. On this occasion he contrived, in language the most 
 courtly, yet without any definite expression of his object, or 
 more than a vague intimation of the high authority by whom 
 he was deputed, to make his errand fully understood. His 
 lordship was soon satisfied that he had no occasion to use any 
 argument to infiuence the performer, for Mr. Mathews proved to 
 
 * Of tte Lord Chief Justice EUenborougb. 
 
166 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 him at once that he had fully resolved, from the moment he 
 found his imitation received with such extraordinary vehemence, 
 not to repeat it. 
 
 The piece commenced, and a most crowded house greeted him. 
 It was plain that a great sensation had been created. The pit 
 was dense with gentlemen only. The inimitable Liston was not 
 so much attended to as it was usual for him to be ; and the 
 anxiety for the judge's charge was fully apparent by the manner 
 of hailing the change of dress which bespoke the period of the 
 representation. The barrister's defence was received with great 
 applause ; but, when the judge began his charge, a restless dis- 
 satisfaction appeared, and Mr. Mathews was interrupted by a 
 call of " Imitation ! imitation !" from all parts of the house, and 
 loudest from the pit, which was said to be almost filled with 
 " men of law." The clamour was so great that at length the 
 object of it went forward, and obtaining a momentary pause, 
 respectfully inquired what was the pleasure of the audience ? 
 Here a simultaneous answer burst forth — " The imitation ! the 
 imitation !" A gentleman rose above the rest in the pit, and 
 demanded, " Why Mr. Mathews omitted the latter part, and by 
 what authority he was prevented from giving the imitation of 
 the learned judge ?" This was followed by loud cries from the 
 rest of the audience of " Answer the question." Mr. Mathews 
 inquired of his interrogator what learned judge he meant ? The 
 gentleman declined giving the name ; but another nearer to the 
 stage contrived in a low voice to pronounce the one alluded to. 
 Mr. Mathews then again addressed the audience. He assured 
 them that in any imitation of his, it was neither his practice 
 nor purpose to hurt the feelings of any individual. He had 
 heard that a noble and learned lord was much offended in con- 
 sequence of the accounts in the public papers. (Here a general 
 cry of " No, no !") Mr. Mathews said " that he did not feel 
 himself bound to a repetition of any peculiar manner, which 
 might be liable to public misconstruction ; he had heard with 
 deep concern that offence had been taken at the mode of his 
 burlesque representation of a judicial address, from an idea that 
 it had a personal allusion, which he disclaimed. He bore the 
 highest respect for the constituted authorities of his country, 
 and therefore no power on earth should compel him to a con- 
 tinuance of any mode of representation that might, if he knew 
 it, favour the erroneous opinion which had gone forth on this 
 occasion. As to the words of the judicial charge, they were 
 strictly those of the author ; but for the tones in which they 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 167 
 
 had first been uttered, he really felt quite at a loss what to say ; 
 he had practised so many voices in the course of his life, that he 
 was not always aware which he might have used for any par- 
 ticular case when it was over. But as the audience seemed to 
 have a favourite, he was willing to prove his anxiety to please 
 them, and would, if they sanctioned the experiment, give the 
 speech in question in various tones and difference of style, which 
 might enable them to point out from amongst the many that 
 which they preferred." This adroit address created great ap- 
 plause. He th<in proceeded to give the "charge," in imitation 
 of Kemble, Cooke, Incledon, Suett, Munden, Blanchard, and 
 many other public favourites in succession, all with great and 
 some with ludicrous effect, and was still proceeding, when the 
 audience, finding his specimens interminable, began to take the 
 jest ; their laughter became uproarious, and their good-humour 
 was completely restored by this ruse of the actor to evade their 
 unwelcome call. The result of all this was, that the malcontents 
 were completely reconciled to their first disappointment, and 
 allowed the farce to end without more tumult. But it was on 
 subsequent nights sufficiently apparent that the piece had, for 
 the time, lost its principal attraction ; though ultimately its 
 own merit, and the acting generally, soon made it a first-rate 
 favourite. 
 
 Not long after this, as an evidence that his legal hit had not 
 made him unpopular with " the Bar," Mr. Mathews was present 
 at a trial in one of the courts, when Mr. Grurney sent the fol- 
 lowing jocular note to a gentleman whose case was coming on, 
 and whom he saw speaking to Mr. Mathews. 
 
 I shall certainly request that Mr. Mathews shall retire from the 
 court while I open your case, unless he give me his word that he will 
 not exhibit me in " Love, Law, and Physic." J. G. 
 
 Mr. Mathews was, in fact, always remarkably delicate in respect 
 to his imitative efforts being at all obtruded upon the notice of 
 the subjects of his imitation to their annoyance. On the night 
 just mentioned, when the audience brought him so closely to 
 answer their urgent calls for the imitation which they had re- 
 cognised on the first night of " Love, Law, and Physic," and 
 when he hit upon so happy an expedient to restore good-humour 
 without complying with their wishes — after having succeeded in 
 making his peace with the audience, he turned up the stage, and 
 at once perceived why one of his imitations had been so much 
 more effective than the rest. He had totally forgotten, in the 
 
168 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 agitation of the moment, that Mr. Blanchard (who in the first 
 uproar had retired to the back) was still upon the stage ! That 
 good-natured man met him afterwards behind the scenes with a 
 shake of the hand, by way of congratulating him upon his success 
 in pacifying the tumult, and Mr, Mathews exclaimed, " My dear 
 Blanchard, pray pardon me. I entirely forgot that you were 
 still upon the stage. Good God ! how coarse my imitation of 
 you before your face must have appeared !" To this apology Mr. 
 Blanchard, with the greatest naivete, replied, " What, my dear 
 boy, did yow mean that for me?" — the stress laid upon the word 
 that proving that the one imitation best understood and most 
 applauded by the audience, had been the only likeness not re- 
 cognised by the original. It need not be told to those who have 
 heard it, that this imitation of Blanchard was perfect. 
 
 I remember an amusing ctmsequence of my husband's reluc- 
 tance to represent any persons in their presence, that occurred 
 soon after our settling in London. Mr. Mathews had known 
 Mr. Braham in the autumn of 1803, at Liverpool ; audit followed 
 that he gave a perfect imitation of him both in private and public 
 life. Of this Mr. Braham heard, and with all the liberality of 
 good sense and conscious talent, he good-humouredly pressed my 
 husband to show him — what not more than one man in twenty is 
 acquainted with — himself. In vain did he solicit ; when one day 
 dining together at a large party, after much importunity of the 
 kind to Braham No. 2, it was discovered that Braham No. 1 had 
 stolen a march upon his host and hostess — in fact, he had dis- 
 appeared during the dessert, and it was said had left the house. 
 After this fact was ascertained, it was urged that in the absence 
 of the great original, Mr. Mathews could do no less than re- 
 present him, for the consolation of his bereaved friends ; and, 
 under such circumstances, he at length yielded, and the great 
 vocalist's absence was fully compensated for the time, by 
 Braham No. 2, who even favoured the company with one of his 
 most popular songs. 
 
 When the general enjoyment was at its height, two ladies, 
 between whom Mr. Braham had sat at dinner, seemed as if sud- 
 denly discomposed, when a figure rose slowly from under the 
 table, and in tones which seemed uttered as if intended in illus- 
 tration of the recent imitation, pronounced, " Very well, Mathews ! 
 exceedingly like, indeed ! nay, perfect, if I know myself!" And 
 the Braham stood confessed ! In fact, he had crept under the 
 table, with the aid of several confederates, unseen by my husband 
 (though by my concurrence), and thus overheard the imitation 
 which he had before despaired of ever hearing. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 169 
 
 The most remarkable result of Mr. Mathews's imitation of 
 Lord Ellenborough in " Love, Law, and Physic," was his re- 
 ceiving a "request" that he would, go to Carlton House on a 
 certain evening. On his arrival, he was immediately ushered into 
 the presence of the Prince, who was surrounded by a very small 
 circle. After a most gracious reception, the general conversation 
 was resumed, as it appeared, and he was for some time at a loss 
 to guess the immediate cause of his invitation. At length, the 
 Prince began to speak of the extraordinary sensation Mr. 
 Mathews's recent imitation had caused, adding, that he had the 
 greatest desire in the world to hear it ; and concluded by saying, 
 that it would be considered as a favour if Mr. Mathews would 
 then give the " charge to the jury," as he had given it on the 
 first night of the new farce. My husband felt distressingly 
 embarrassed. He glanced round at the party, and his eye for a 
 moment fell upon the nobleman with whom he had the inter- 
 view on the second night of the piece, and who was looking par- 
 ticularly grave. Mr. Mathews obviously hesitated, which the 
 Prince observing, said, " Oh, don't be afraid, Mr. Mathews — 
 we're all tiled here. Come, pray oblige me : Pm longing to hear 
 it. I'm something of a mimic myself. My brother here" 
 (turning to the Duke of York) " can tellyou, that I give a very- 
 fair imitation of Lord Eldon. With respect to yours of Lord 
 Ellenborough, it was not so well when you found it so taken up 
 to continue it in public, and I am very glad your own good taste 
 and feeling prompted you to refuse a repetition of it ; but here 
 you need have no scruples." 
 
 Mr. Mathews felt very reluctant to obey the Prince's wishes, 
 though so gently and kindly enforced, for although there were 
 not altogether twenty persons present, yet he could not help 
 feeling that amongst them there might be some personal friend 
 of the Lord Chief Justice. However, he was commanded, and, 
 malgre lui, he obeyed. 
 
 The Prince was in raptures, and declared himself astonished at 
 the closeness of the imitation, shutting his eyes while he listened 
 to ib with excessive enjoyment, and many exclamations of wonder 
 and dehght, such as ''Excellent! perfect! It is he himself !" 
 The Duke of York manifested his approval in peals of laughter 
 and the Prince afterwards conversed most kindly and agreeably 
 upon the subject with my husband and the high personages 
 present, for some time. When Mr. Mathews returned home, he 
 declared to me, that had he had the remotest idea of the cause 
 of. his summons to the palace, he would have formed some excuse 
 
170 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 rather than appear on an occasion so truly embarrassing to his 
 feelings. 
 
 In the course of this season he had opportunities of showing 
 himself at Covent Garden Theatre in more regular dramatic cha- 
 racters, such as Kite in " The Recruiting Officer," Trinculo in 
 " The Tempest," &c. ; and, during Mrs. Jordan's engagement for 
 a limited period, he had the advantage of appearing in the same 
 plays with her in several of his favourite old men, as Foresight 
 in " Love for Love," &c. The town allowed that he could com- 
 mand their approval in legitimate comedy as well as in farce. 
 Nor was it less gratifying to him to find himself an object in this 
 way with the performers on their benefit nights. The following 
 compliment from the Thalia of the day, will be a proof that 
 his acting was appreciated by the best judges in his own pro- 
 fession. 
 
 To Charles Mathews, Esq. 
 
 Cadogan Place, Wednesday. 
 
 Sib, — I shall be extremely obliged to you if you will allow me to 
 gratify my friends, all admirers of yours, with your performance of Sir 
 Bashful Constant in " The Way to Keep Him." 
 
 I remain, sir, yours, Doka Joedan. 
 
 Mrs. Jordan not only admired Mr. Mathews's public talent, 
 but, after she became intimate with him, honoured him with many 
 attentions. He was frequently invited to the house of this fas- 
 cinating actress, and visited her on several occasions of domestic 
 interest. He always accepted her invitations when he could, and 
 became strongly attached to her society. He used to say that 
 her fine joy-inspiring tones, and her natural and peculiar manner 
 of speaking, always carried a warmth to his heart which no other 
 voice ever conveyed, and seemed to do him good. She was indeed 
 an extraordinary and exquisite being, and as distinct from any 
 other person in the world as she was superior to all her contem- 
 poraries in her particular line of acting, I believe the fol- 
 lowing invitation was the last my husband ever received from 
 her hand, and it was carefully preserved by him in his collection 
 of autographs. 
 
 To Charles Mathews, Esq. 
 
 Cadogan Place, Friday. 
 
 Sir, — My son, Captain Fitzclarence, having a party here on Monday 
 the 11th, to take leave of his friends on his going abroad, is desirous 
 of having the pleasure of knowing you before he goes; and at his 
 request I now do myself the pleasure of enclosing you a card. 
 
 I remain yours obediently, Doea Joedan. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 171 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Mr. Mathews commanded to perform at Carlton House— His previous visit to 
 that palace — Disposal of the cottage in the King's-road — Mr. Mathews's 
 return to town — Letter from Mr. Theodore Hook, from the Mauritius. 
 
 At this period Mr. Mathews received another gracious summons 
 from the Prince Regent to Carlton House, requesting him to 
 entertain the Court with some specimens of his "rare talents," 
 on a particular evening, and requiring him to call on the morn- 
 ing previously. When Mr. Mathews arrived, he found the Duke 
 of York with his royal brother, and both received him with the 
 most cordial kindness. The Prince, in his fascinating manner, 
 thanked him for what he was pleased to term his "good-nature," 
 in consenting to gratify him with his performance, adding, he 
 was quite aware that it was a particular instance, and that Mr. 
 Mathews never anywhere else exhibited his powers out of his 
 profession ; but he said, " The Queen* has long felt an earnest 
 desire to witness them, and had often been disappointed of that 
 pleasure." The Prince then entered upon his reason for re- 
 questing the present call, which, in fact, was nothing less than a 
 delicate consideration for Mr. Mathews's comfort and con- 
 venience in the evening. His Royal Highness wished him to 
 make choice of a position in the room most agreeable to his 
 purpose and general accommodation. Perceiving Mr. Mathews 
 in doubt where to tix, the Prince explained to him that he had 
 himself arranged, if no better plan suggested itself, everything 
 for his comfort. " This," said his Royal Highness, "this is the 
 apartment we intend to be in ; at the farther end of it I have 
 had your table placed, as you see, there being a door close to 
 it opening into another room, to which you can retire and 
 refresh yourself as often as you feel disposed. I have personally 
 attended to everything within it, and hope you will be pleased." 
 Then leading the way to what proved a double-door, the Prince 
 opened the first, where his progress was arrested by a sight 
 * Queen Charlotte, 
 
372 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 which was enough to make his " two eyes, hke stars, start from 
 their spheres." It was no less than a housemaid's hroom, and a 
 quantity of dust, deposited in a vulgar heap in the middle of the 
 doorway, which the sweeper, good easy soul, not dreaming that 
 her royal master would have occasion before the wonted hour to 
 pass through these doors, had left to be removed at her con- 
 venience. It was whimsical to see the look of the Prince at this 
 discovery, at which the "Duke his brother" laughed inconti- 
 nently for several minutes. " Now really," said the Prince, 
 after a brief contemplation of tlie obstruction, and trying to 
 seem angr}'- — "really, this is too bad !" and taking the broom in 
 his hand, removed it from the middle of the passage across 
 which it laid ; while the Duke, whose laughter was renewed at 
 this action, cried out, " Ay, sweep it up yourself, brother ; sweep 
 it up yourself!" The Prince, however, directed a person in 
 waiting to " see to it," and then gravely passed through to the 
 other room, followed by the Duke and m}'- husband, the former 
 still laughing immoderately. Alas ! for a palace where, house- 
 maids are merely human beings, and careless as in less " well- 
 regulated families." Very absurd and unreasonable is the sur- 
 prise we feel when anything within a royal residence is found 
 agreeing with the ordinary chances or defects of common life. 
 I remember Mr. Mathews returning from a subsequent visit to 
 his royal master (on the eve of his coronation), and telling me 
 how much he had been diverted by observing a fracture (or 
 what a sempstress would term a ladder) in the back part of his 
 Majesty's black silk stocking, with which he had unconsciously 
 walked about the whole evening. 
 
 But to return to the result of the Prince's considerate fore- 
 thought for the comfort of his entertainer, for whose performance 
 everything proved as technically arranged as if under the super- 
 intendence of a stage-manager. At night, the room assigned 
 for his refreshment contained an elegant supper, and all was 
 prepared that princely breeding could suggest to render every- 
 thing agreeable to my husband. 
 
 During Mr. Mathews's performance, which was his " Mail- 
 coach Adventures," the Prince was not only extremely attentive 
 himself, but would not suffer a sound from any of his visitors to 
 disturb, or an eye to be turned away from, the object of the 
 evening; nay, once, when "the Queen his mother" made some 
 observation aloud to a lady near her, the Prince, with, one oH his 
 sweet smiles, looked at her, and placed his finger on his lips 
 expressively, to which silent reproof her Majesty nodded good- 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 173 
 
 humouredly, and resumed her attention. But it was remarked 
 by my husband that, although the Princess Charlotte talked 
 frequently and loudly, her royal father did not seem to notice it, 
 or make any attempt to check her interruptions, as he had done 
 thos(^ of others ; so far from it, that had such a thing been 
 possible, it might have been supposed from his manner that he 
 was unconscious of his daughter's non-observance of his polite 
 example and general injunction. 
 
 Between the acts, which Mr. Mathews had made three for 
 the better relief of his audience, the Prince came up to him, and 
 chatted upon the different portions of the entertainment., and 
 the recollections to which it gave rise. At the close of the 
 evening he shook hands with Mr,. Mathews, and thanked him in 
 the names of all present, and his own, for "the treat" he had 
 afforded them. All this was very gratifying ; but my husband, 
 nevertheless, returned to his cottage, relieved tha,t his efforts 
 were over, always feeling during such tasks like him who, once 
 out of his place and position, sang, 
 
 I wish I was at home again, and had my working clothes on. 
 
 At the close of Covent Garden Theatre Mr. Mathews left 
 home once more, on a tour in the provinces, and to the metro- 
 polis of Scotland, where he was, as usual, warmly welcomed. 
 
 At the beginning of September he received an invitation from 
 a Devonshire friend in the neighbourhood of Exeter, who was 
 desirous of a visit from him at this time, as he said he wished 
 him to see a " very clever young man," then performing in the 
 above town — forwarding, by way of preparation, the following 
 bill, which I shall insert, because it is curious in itself, and sets 
 to rest the question much agitated at the time of Mr. Kean's 
 first popularity in London, whether or not he had ever seen the 
 performance of Mr.Cooke (his celebrated predecessor in " Bichard 
 the Third"). 
 
 Mr, Keavbs Farewell. 
 For one night only. Hotel Assembly Room. 
 
 Wednesday, Sept. 8th, 1813. 
 
 Mr. Kean, with the most lively sense of gratitude for all past favours, 
 begs leave to inform the inhabitants of Exeter, that (previously to his 
 departure for the Theatre Royal, Liverpool,) he has selected a most 
 pleasing variety of Entertainments, consisting of songs, recitations, and 
 pantomime, which he will at the above-mentioned rooms have the 
 honour of presenting. 
 
 Part the Fiest. — Imitations of the London Performers, given by 
 
174 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 Mr. Kean before their Majesties at Frogmore Fete. Mr. Kemble, as 
 Cardinal Wolsey : " Had I but served my God with half the zeal I 
 served my King, he would not, in mine age, have left me naked to my 
 enemies." Mr. Cooke, as King Eichard the Third. Mr, Barrymore, 
 as Earl Osmond. Mr. Incledon, as the Quaker. Mr. Braham, as 
 Prince Orlando. The Young Roseius, as Norval. Mr. Munden, as Sir 
 Abel Hand3^ Mr. Fawcett, as Caleb Quotem. 
 
 The celebrated Comic Song of " Beggars and Ballad Singers." The 
 African Slave's Appeal to Liberty. After which a serious Ballet (per- 
 formed only in the Theatres of Paris, and the Opera-house, London), 
 called the " Instructions of Chiron to Achilles." Achilles, by the pupil 
 of Nature, Master Howard Kean. Chiron, Mr. Kean. With appro- 
 priate music, dresses, &c. 
 
 Part the Second. — George Alexander Stevens's " Description of a 
 Storm," in character, and after the manner of Incledon. Humorous 
 Recitation of " Monsieur Tonson." " Tell her I love her" (by par- 
 ticular desire), Mr. Kean. 
 
 Admission tickets, 3s. to be had of Mr. Kean, at Miss Hakes's, 
 High-street ; &c. 
 
 Mr. Mathews's approaching duties at Covent Garden Theatre, 
 however, precluded him from witnessing the " clever young 
 man's" performance, and he was obliged to stay his curiosity, 
 which was destined not to remain long ungratified, though not 
 exactly in so versatile a way as that offered to him by his friend, 
 for Mr. Kean's London engagement soon followed. 
 
 It was Mr. Mathews's wish that his son should be educated 
 at the school in which he was himself brought up (Merchant 
 Tailors') and he was accordingly placed upon the foundation by 
 our friend Mr. Silvester, the Recorder.* Charles was, as I have 
 before said, intended for the Church, and this arrangement 
 would have proved a great advantage to him in pursuance of 
 that intention. He boarded with the head-master of the school, 
 the Rev. Thomas Cherry ; but, though thus provided with a 
 home, how could the parents of an only child, so young too as 
 he was, forego the means of receiving him as often as a holiday- 
 gave occasion ? This, with some prudential reasons, determined 
 my husband to part with his cottage, of which he was so fond, 
 and it was, after a severe struggle, forthwith advertised for sale. 
 Before we were prepared for removal, or could expect to dispose 
 of our favourite abode, a gentleman was introduced to Mr. 
 Mathews by Mr. Ralph Benson, then M.P. for Stafford, who 
 immediately fell knee-deep in love with our cottage, and all therein 
 * Afterwards Sir John Silvester, 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 175 
 
 contained — literally so ; for from that moment he and his lady, 
 with her sister, who, like the " slight acquaintances" in Mr. 
 Canning's " Rovers," had at the first glance vowed an eternal 
 friendship for me, became, in fact, our most attached friends. 
 
 After the terms for the purchase of the cottage were agreed 
 upon (that is, the remainder of the lease), and a quantity of fur- 
 niture and fixtures appropriate to the place, Mr. Thompson (the 
 gentleman who had purchased the cottage) pressed for imme- 
 diate possession. Anxious to accommodate him, we hastily took 
 a house in Cadogan-terrace, which we determined to furnish at 
 our leisure. In the meantime we made our abode in a furnished 
 lodging in that part of Lisle-street, which looked down Leicester- 
 place into the square ; a situation determined upon because it 
 was the only one which we could find at the moment without an 
 opposite neighbour, my husband having a morbid horror of eyes 
 "glaring," as he said, upon all his movements. Here, in the 
 month of June, we "located" for a few months, and here our 
 newly-acquired friends visited us frequently ; but, to Mr. 
 Mathews's great embarrassment, no mention in any of these 
 visits was made of payment for the "charming cottage," which, 
 however, they invited us to visit once, in order to " show our 
 eyes, and grieve our hearts," with the alterations (they called 
 them improvements), made with gilded finery and gaudy dra- 
 peries, in a place which had derived all its merit from rustic 
 fittings up of bamboo, chintz, and white muslin; while the 
 walls, once overrun with roses on trellis-paper, with looking- 
 glass let into the piers to reflect and multiply any pretty effects, 
 had given place to yellow flock-paper, and gold cornices and 
 frames. All this, as my husband observed to me, was evidence 
 of as bad taste as eating the wrong ends of asparagus would be. 
 He was fretted to see the pretty simple toy transformed by 
 meretricious taste into a vulgar mass of pretension; and we never 
 went again — unluckily, as it happened. Mr. Thompson, how- 
 ever, still "took his ease at our inn," but was too much of a 
 gentleman to mention money, and my poor husband was too 
 delicate to introduce the word, believing from day to day that all 
 would come naturally round. His own honest nature had not 
 suggested the expediency of any formal agreement with a person 
 whose manners and mode of introduction seemed to ensure an 
 honourable result. At last I persnaded him to intimate gently, 
 that his arrangements required immediate funds, and this pro- 
 duced an apology, and a promise, in the shape of a note of hand, 
 payable at a short date. But from this moment the calls of 
 
176 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 my " slight acquaintance," his wife, became less frequent ; her 
 sister, it is true, stepped in, but her visits were also " short and 
 far between ;" while " Monsieur Tonson" did not " come again." 
 My husband was thus circumstanced, when one day an acquain- 
 tance walked into tlie room with a catalogue in his hand of a 
 sale from which he had just come, saying he would not have 
 missed possessing himself of something that had been ours for 
 the world ! What ? The truth came out, — the cottage-lease, 
 with all the fixtures and effects, furniture, glass, china, &c. had 
 been sold off by the gentleman so artfully, that we had not even 
 heard of his intention ; and when we sent to the King's-road to 
 make inquiries into the particulars, the cottage was found closed, 
 and all the Tonsons gone off to France, with the proceeds of the 
 sale in their pockets. 
 
 Here was a loss (something indeed of the character of Father 
 Foigard's) of seven hundred pounds, which we intended to re- 
 ceive,* and bad as it proved, there was, as in all misfortunes, 
 some consolation mixed up in it. This wholesale swindler had 
 petitioned hard to have the paintings left which hung up in one 
 of the rooms (for Mr. Mathews's giant hobby was then in its 
 infancy), on the plea of gracing the walls until time was ripe 
 for papering and gilding. But as soon would my husband have 
 left behind him an eye or a limb as these his treasures ; and thus 
 he preserved what to have been robbed of would have grieved 
 him more than twenty times the money lost. Luckily, too, we 
 had not attempted to furnish the house in Cadogan-terrace ; but 
 we had an expensive rent growing there, and this was an addi- 
 tional care. In this dilemma, we put off our removal for a 
 month or so, and Mr. Mathews continued his Haymarket en- 
 gagement, in broiling weather, in a London lodging, comforting 
 himself with the view of his paintings, hung all over the walls 
 of our sitting-rooms, which had been snatched by his care from 
 the common ruin of the cottage. All he ever saw of the " loved 
 spot" more, was from a peep over the paling, in his rides and 
 drives, when his sight was regaled for some weeks by closed 
 shutters pasted over with the bills of the recent sale !* 
 
 * Father Foigard, the Irishman in the comedy of the " Beaux Stratagem," 
 complains that the runaway innkeeper has robbed him of two hundred pounds 
 — namely, one hundred that he (Foigard) owed him, and one hundred that he 
 intended to owe him. 
 
 t It is but just to Mr. Ralph Benson that I explain, that when he intro- 
 duced Mr. Thompson to our acquaintance, he thought him still in possession 
 of fortune and honour : he was not then aware that he had squandered the one 
 and discarded the other ; and Mr. Benson himself was also a severe sufferer by 
 Mr. Thompson's artifices. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 177 
 
 Mr. Theodore Hook, whose departure for the Mauritius, it 
 may be remembered, has been mentioned in a preceding letter 
 from Mr. Colman, had not, in leaving England, left behind him 
 the recollection of his friends there. The following communi- 
 cation will be found most interesting and characteristic. As it 
 was welcome to him to whom it was addressed, so will it be 
 now to the public, who are admirers of Mr. Hook's talents. 
 
 To Charles Mathews, Esq. 
 
 La Reduit, Mauritius, March 24tli, 1814. 
 
 My deae Mathews, — Uninteresting as a letter must be from an 
 individual in a little African island, to you wKo are at the very head- 
 quarters and emporium of news and gaiety, I shall risk annoying you 
 and write, begging you to take along with you that the stupidity of my 
 epistle proceeds in a great measure from the dearth of anything worthy 
 the name of intelligence ; for if I had anything to say, say it I would. 
 
 I have received so much powerful assistance from your public talents 
 in my short dramatic career, and have enjoyed so very many pleasant 
 hours in your private society, that I feel a great pride and gratification 
 from this distance, where flattery cannot be suspected, nor interested 
 motives attach themselves to praise, to express how warmly I feel and 
 how duly I appreciate both your exertions and your powers ; and, as 
 the lovers say in the Poets, 
 
 Though mountains rise and oceans roll between us, 
 
 I shall not forget how much I am indebted to you. You have read 
 enough of this island, I dare say, not to imagine that we live in huts 
 on the sea-coast, or that, like our gallant foreftithers, we paint ourselves 
 blue, and vote pantaloons a prejudice. We are here surrounded by 
 every luxury which art can furnish, or dissipation suggest, in a climate 
 the most delightful, in a country the most beautiful, society the most 
 gay, and pursuits the most fascinating. 
 
 This is, by heavens ! a Paradise, and not without angels. The 
 women are all handsome (not so handsome as English women), all 
 accomplished, their manners extremely good, wit brilliant, and good- 
 nature wonderful; this is picking out the best! The "oi TroXXot," as 
 we say at Oxford, are, if I may use the word, mindless — all blank — 
 dance like devils, and better than any people, for, like all fools, they are 
 fond of it, and naturally excel in proportion to their mental debihty ; 
 for the greater the fool the better the dancer. 
 
 We have operas in the winter, which sets in about July; but the 
 Opera-house here is a subscription ; the renters have quarrelled, the 
 manager, Fleury, is in prison, and the affairs of the theatre are before 
 the courts of appeal. In short, the whole island is like fairy-land ; 
 every hour seems happier than the last; and, altogether, from the 
 mildness of the air (the sweetness of which, as it passes over spice 
 plantations and orange groves, is hardly conceivable), the clearness of 
 
178 THE LIFE AND CORKESPONPENCE OF 
 
 .the atmosphere, the coolness of the evenings, and the loveliness of the 
 place itself, all combine to render it fascination. The very thought of 
 ever quitting it is like the apprehension of the death or long parting 
 with some near relation ; and if it were not that this feeling is counter- 
 acted by having some friends at home, whom I shall be anxious to see, 
 there is no inducement that would draw me from such a perfect Thule. 
 
 I have wept over poor Virginia's grave ; I saw her cottage, and an 
 old slave whose father remembers the loss of the St. Guan. I do not 
 know what this gentleman's papa might have been, but I like Munden 
 in Dominique infinitely better.* Your neighbour, the Nova Scotia 
 
 baronet. Sir R B , and his daughter, made a similar exhibition 
 
 on the same spot. The Itoxhurgli Castle, in which they came out, 
 came to this island about ten days sooner than the captain or the crew 
 expected, and therefore bumped ashore. All the cargo lost, but the 
 baronet and his daughter were saved. 
 
 I send you in this letter a piece of the bamboo which I pulled from 
 Paul and Virginia's grave. 
 
 I nmst request you will acknowledge this letter, and tell me some 
 news. I have given up all thoughts of finishing my Covent Garden 
 farce, and have returned Harry Harris the money he had paid me en 
 avance ; so that you see I am turned lazy. However, I shall be just 
 as happy to hear of all things going on ; not but I suppose, by the 
 time I come back to England, I shall hear that Mr. Watkins is the best 
 Samlet, Mr. Higgens the most effective Archer, and Mrs. Grogan the 
 sweetest Juliet that ever acted ; so much will time change circum- 
 Btances. Pray remember me to Colman. 
 
 Make my kind remembrances to Mrs. Mathews, and tell her that I 
 hope to shake hands with her when we are both twaddlers — that is, 
 when she is as much of a twaddler as old age can make her ; and that 
 when I return upon crutches from foreign parts, I trust she will direct 
 her son to pay me every attention due to my infirmities. By the way, 
 hang me if all 3^our French farces, prints, costumes, and all, arn't here. 
 What shall I do ? I will send them — first to Fleury, and desire him 
 to act them here ; then I will point out the effective, and return thera 
 to you. I do assure you I do not know how they got here ; but Roll's 
 farces are here, too, which I will take great care of, and bring back 
 with me whenever I come. 
 
 I hope they are all well. Any private theatre this year ? I suppose 
 so, for it is as impossible for an alderman not to love turtle, as it would 
 be for Rolls not to do everything he can to make his friends happy. 
 
 Psha ! my letter is all about myself. Egotism from beginning to the 
 
 end. Like Argus, there are at least a hundred Z's in it. Well, d • 
 
 my /'s, I will substitute the other vowel, and assure you that, although 
 at this distance, I am sincerely and truly yours, and that you will find 
 even in Mauritm^ U and I are not far asunder. " If 3'ou happen to 
 know" how Hill is, let me hear of him, and make my regards — " pooh ! 
 
 * Bomi^iigue, a comic character in the afterpiece of "Paul and Yirginia." 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 179 
 
 thousands of them. Not thousands exactly," but enough to prove how- 
 happy I shall be to hear he is well. 
 
 D , if he has not grown wiser as he has grown older, is, I sup- 
 pose, married. In his situation " a joke's a joke." " Blood ! but that's 
 too much for friendship." I can't spell the noise he makes with his 
 mouth, or I would add that. 
 
 Where is poor Ben Thompson P I find by a letter which has been 
 opened in England, from him to me, that he " damns my iron heart" 
 for having deserted him in his utmost need : wherein he is wrong. I 
 deserted my country ; " My native land I bade adieu," but circum- 
 stances, ccelum non animum, mutant, and I am as much and as warmly 
 interested in him and his fate as ever. 
 
 Is Mrs. Scott Waring likely to add to the family at Peterborough 
 House ? If she does, I think Master John and his father will be two, 
 and, logical rubs set aside, the major and the minor won't agree. So 
 that whether in Europe or Africa, the charm and spell are the same. I 
 enclose you Mr. Fleury's letter to me as a theatrical bijou. His way of 
 spelling my name not bad. 
 
 Our races begin in July ; we have also an excellent beef-steak club ; 
 the best Freemasons' lodge in the world. We have subscription 
 concerts and balls, and the parties in private houses here are seldom 
 less than from two to three hundred. At the last ball given by Mrs. 
 Farquhar, at the Government -house, upwards of seven hundred and 
 fifty ladies were present, which, considering that the greater proportion 
 of the female population are not admissible, proves the number of 
 inhabitants, and the extent of the society. 
 
 I dare say some of my fat-headed friends in that little island where 
 the beef grows, and where you live, fancy that I am making a fortune, 
 considering that I am Treasurer ! Accountant-general ! Fresh butter, 
 my dear fellow, is ten shillings per pound ; a coat costs thirty pounds 
 English ; a pair of gloves fifteen shillings ; a bottle of claret, the best, 
 tenpence ; and pine-apples, a penny a piece. Thus, you see, while the 
 articles necessary to existence are exorbitant, luxuries are dirt cheap, 
 and a pretty life we do lead. Breakfast at eight, always up by gun-fire, 
 five o'clock; bathe and ride before breakfast, after breakfast lounge 
 about; at one have a regular meal, ycleped a tiffin — hot meats, 
 vegetables, and at this we sit generally through the heat of the day, 
 drinking our wine and munching our fruit ; at five, or half-past, the 
 carriages come to the door, and we go either in them or in palan- 
 quins to dress, which operation performed, we drive out to the race- 
 ground, and through the Champ de Mars, the Hyde Park here, till half- 
 past six ; come into town, and at seven dine, where we remain till ten 
 or eleven, and then join the French parties, as there is regularly a ball 
 somewhere or other every night : these things, blended with business, 
 make out the day and evening. 
 
 I shall draw to a conclusion this very dull letter, by assuring you, 
 with my best regards to Mrs. Mathews, and Charles, how truly I am. 
 Dear Mathews, yours, T. E. Hook. 
 
 n2 
 
180 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Mr. Mathews's severe accident in company with Mr. Terry — Mr. Colman's 
 letter— Mr. Mathews's re-appearancee at the Haymarket in '* Hocus 
 Pocus" — Mr. Mathews at Brighton — His lameness incurable — Letter of Mr. 
 Henry Harris — Mr. Mathews's letters to Mrs. Mathews from Birmingham 
 and Stratford-upon-Avon. 
 
 On the 22nd of July, 1814, just after Mr. Mathews had made 
 his second appearance in Falstaff^ and was prepared to " trammel 
 up the consequence" by fresh improvement upon his successful 
 efforts in that difficult part, an event occurred which altered the 
 whole course of his professional feelings, and suspended his public 
 exertions for a time altogether. Mr. Mathews, whose only means 
 now of escaping sometimes from London smoke depended upon 
 an occasional drive in his tilbury, had one day arranged to take 
 me with him for an hour or so ; when Mr. Terry,* full of anxiety 
 and haste, came up to the door just as we were starting, and 
 earnestly requested, as a great favour, that I would resign my 
 place to him, as he had the most pressing desire to be taken 
 quickly a few miles out of town on important and sudden busi- 
 ness, and had come for the purpose of soliciting the drive. Of 
 course, I immediately descended, and the two friends drove off. 
 In a few minutes after, a stranger knocked loudly at the street- 
 door, and briefly announced that " Mr. Mathews had just been 
 thrown out of his tilbury, and was dangerously hurt," adding no 
 intelHgence of the place where the event had occurred. The 
 servant to whom this inconsiderate information was delivered, 
 in his first alarm immediately ran up to me, repeating in an 
 agitated voice the alarming news. I remained in a state of great 
 
 * Daniel Terry, comedian, born 1780, and originally intended for an archi- 
 tect, evinced a great liking for the stage, which was fostered by his most 
 intimate friend, Sir Walter Scott, who obtained him several engagements, and 
 in 1825 advanced him the capital requisite to become joint partner with Mr. 
 Tates in the lesseeship of the Adelphi Theatre. On Sir Walter's bankruptcy, 
 Mr. Terry found it necessary to sell his share in the property, and retired to 
 the Continent, where he died in 1828, 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 181 
 
 agitation a full hour, when a coach slowly approached the house, 
 and my husband was taken from it, as I believed dead ! This 
 dreadful apprehension was changed to a feeling of almost equal 
 sorrow from the afflicting groans uttered by the sufferer, insen- 
 sible as he seemed in other respects, while two strangers bore 
 him up-stairs to his room. 
 
 I can but imperfectly remember the particulars of that day 
 and night, for a dangerous illness attacked me shortly after, 
 which almost caused an oblivion of the preceding horrors, except 
 when I was aroused to some recollection of it by the frequent 
 groans of my dear husband, who lay in the next chamber to 
 myself in agonies too great to be conceived, whenever the sur- 
 geons attempted to ascertain the nature of his hurt. When any 
 change of position was requisite, these evidences of suffering 
 were heart-piercing. Only for a time, however, while they were 
 intense, did he allow what he felt to appear to those about him. 
 Impatient in trifles, he was the most calm and enduring of human 
 beings on all great occasions ; and it always seemed to me as if 
 he resented petty annoyances, because they rose from petty 
 sources, but that he bent with humble resignation to greater in- 
 flictions because he believed they came direct from the Almighty. 
 In the intervals of his excessive pains he became even merry, 
 and sportive as a child. When he was tired of reading, he would 
 amuse himself with his violin, flute, and flageolet in turn ; and 
 when he heard a visitor approaching, whom he guessed came 
 with a serious face of condolement to the house, expecting to 
 find him in a most wretched state of mind as well as body, ho 
 would scrape up a tune, after the manner of a blind fiddler at a 
 fair, and welcome the person with all sorts of drollery. A friend 
 one day laughing at his musical vein at such a time, brought 
 him when he next called two other instruments, which he had 
 purchased at the Hyde-park Fair, held in commemoration of the 
 visit of the illustrious foreigners to England, in order, as he said, 
 to afford him variety in his practice. These the invalid received 
 with much gravity and affected gratitude ; when the donor left 
 him, he applied himself to the study of the Jew's-harp and 
 penny trumpet, in both of which it was his humour to attain a 
 proficiency before the next visit of his friend. His success with 
 the latter instrument was confessed two or three years after by 
 the public, when in the character of one of the Master D'dherrys 
 he performed " God Save the King" upon it, and convulsed the 
 audience with laughter. In this manner, propped up in his bed, 
 he cheated his pains — and I fear misled his medical men, who 
 
182 THE LIFE AND COKEESPONDENCE OF 
 
 probably considered bis case less serious, from bis cbeerfulness 
 under it ; for bow could tbey be aware tbat a man so sensitive 
 and restless upon minor matters, could be capable of sucb en- 
 durance of intense suffering ? Tbey did not know that one was 
 the triumph of nerves — the other of heart. 
 
 But to the particulars of the accident. Mr. Terry's business 
 carrying them down Charing-cross^, they were proceeding thither 
 very rapidly. Mr. Mathews was driving a favourite blood-horse' 
 of high courage (a term which describes an animal more sus- 
 ceptible of fear than any other). Suddenly, from some unper- 
 ceived cause, the creature was startled, and before the driver 
 could pull up his somewhat slackened reins, the horse dropped 
 his tail over one of them so fixedly that all control over him was 
 lost, and he trotted onwards with desperate speed. Dreading a 
 collision with one of the many vehicles meeting them, Mr. Ma- 
 thews used the one rein on his left side to avoid the public way, 
 when the sudden check of turning into Privy Gardens over the 
 slippery pathway caused the horse to fall, and the shock threw 
 out to a great distance my husband and his friend, who were 
 both taken up quite insensible. How they were recognised, I 
 never knew, or I have forgotten. Mr. Terry was at first sup- 
 posed to be the most seriously injured of the two, but happily, 
 in less than a fortnight he appeared as well as ever, having only 
 broken two of his ribs. This result was, I remember, a great 
 source of comfort to my husband in his calamity, whose first 
 anxiety was for him to whom he had, though innocently, caused 
 such a misfortune. 
 
 This accident was not only painful to Mr. Terry, and serious 
 to my husband, but at the same time most embarrassing to the 
 proprietors of the Hay market Theatre, whose whole dependence 
 was upon these two performers for the season. Mr. Mathews 
 had, a few evenings before, made what is technically called a hit, 
 in the character of Falstaff, and had, as I have already said, re- 
 peated it the night previously to this sad catastrophe with 
 increased effect. The surgeons did not anticipate any lasting 
 consequences from the hurt, and even promised a speedy restora- 
 tion. Under such a report it could neither be wondered at that 
 Mr. Colman was anxious, in his distress, for Mr. Mathews's re- 
 turn, who on his part felt a generous concern for the situation 
 of his employer. Sanguine of his speedy recovery, he allowed 
 a character to be written for him by Mr. Colman, for his re- 
 appearance. The importance of the loss sustained by the theatre 
 in the absence of my husband's services is a fact of which Mr; 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 183^ 
 
 Colman was too generous to wish to withhold his full appre- 
 ciation. 
 
 On the 12th of August, the following account, published at 
 the time, announces his return to the Haymarket, under cir- 
 cumstances as painful as unprecedented. 
 
 A new afterpiece, under the title of " Hocus Pocus, or Harlequin 
 Washed White," was produced here. It is a species of performance 
 which defies criticism ; partaking at once of farce, comedy, tragedy, 
 and pantomime, and possessing the novelty of three harlequins, and 
 apparently designed for the purpose of introducing Mr. Mathews to 
 the public again, after his recovery from his late severe accident. 
 
 The prologue was spoken by Mr. Terry, and contained some good 
 points, which weue loudly applauded. After it was concluded, Mr. 
 Terry addressed the audience as follows : — 
 
 " Ladies and Gentlemen. — Before the curtain rises I am requested to 
 say a few words to you in behalf of an invalid. Mr. Mathews (applause) 
 still continues to suffer much, very much, from his late severe accident ; 
 but he trusts that his anxiety in coming forward thus early to perform 
 his duty to you, and to fulfil his engagements here, will atone for his 
 deficiencies in bodily activity, requisite to the character he is about to 
 sustain. (Great applause.) A former very celebrated proprietor of this 
 theatre once enjoyed the fullest favour as * a devil upon two sticks,* 
 and it is hoped, nay, it cannot be doubted, that you will now extend 
 your utmost indulgence to a * harlequin upon one.' "* 
 
 It is needless to add, that Mr. Mathews was on his appearance greeted 
 with the loudest applause. He is still extremely lame, and required a 
 crutch stick for his support. His right side seems to have particularly 
 suffered, and it is difl&cult to separate the idea of pain from even his 
 happiest efforts. 
 
 In one scene, where he disguised himself as " Jacky Long Legs," it 
 was impossible to conceive anything more perfect than the modification 
 of his voice in imitating a child six years old. 
 
 The following impromptu on this performance appeared in a 
 newspaper at the time : — 
 
 It seems, if obliged on his crutches to play. 
 
 At Harlequin, Mathews will aim. 
 If so, very fairly the public may say, 
 
 'Tis the first time his efforts were lame. 
 
 At the close of the Haymarket season Mr. Mathews went to 
 Brighton for the advantage of the shampooing baths, which 
 Mr. Carpue had so strenuously recommended ; and there upon' 
 his crutches he at least felt the benefit of air and rest. 
 
 * The celebrated proprietor will of course be recollected — Mr. Foote, the 
 Aristophanes of his day, had the misfortune to lose his leg by an accident 
 similar, I believe, to that of Mr, Mathews,, 
 
184 THE LIFE AND COEKESPONDENCE OF 
 
 It must be evident that Mr. Mathews knew his own case best, 
 even better than his surgeons, as the result — namely, twenty- 
 five years' sad experience of incurable lameness — proved; not 
 that he then believed he should be so afflicted for the remainder 
 of his life ; but his scepticism as to a speedy recovery was justi- 
 fied by his own feelings, although his fortitude, and frequent 
 high spirits, misled his surgeons. These will sufficiently excuse 
 and account for their miscalculations of the extent of the injury 
 he had sustained. 
 
 The following is a kind letter from his manager, Mr. Henry 
 Harris : — 
 
 To Charles Mathews^ Esq. 
 
 Nov. 5th, 1814. 
 
 Beae Mathews, — While you are deriving advantage from the 
 shampooing, sea air, and riding, I should by no means advise you to 
 quit that certainty for any uncertain remedy. In what I said I only 
 meant, that when from the bad weather setting in, you come to a stand- 
 still and cannot report progress, then you had better come to town, 
 and try electricity, which, whatever is said to the contrary, I know 
 from experience in many cases, is of great assistance when properly 
 and regularly applied by a skilful operator, very seldom to be met with, 
 but which my friend Lowndes most certainly is. 
 
 Robins quite misunderstood me in stating that your acting at the 
 Haymarket weakened your claim for a salary : as there is no precedent 
 for any such claim, without having joined the company, how can it be 
 weakened ? 
 
 I might have lamented that you ever did perform there after your 
 accident, as it has so much retarded your cure, and deprived us of your 
 assistance ; but under all the circumstances I do not see how you could, 
 without the sacrifice of their interests, have done otherwise, more 
 particularly previous to Mrs. Gibbs's benefit. After that by taking 
 advantage of my command, you might have got away for a week 
 sooner ; but I agree with you, that it is quite useless to refer to what 
 cannot now be prevented, and so let the subject drop. 
 
 I wish it was in our power to do more for you, for I assure you I 
 feel much for your losses ; but I hope that the succeeding year will be 
 as lucky as the last was unfortunate, and that you will be able to bring 
 up your lee-way. 
 
 Kobins mentioned something about your performing your Budget 
 for a few nights previously to your playing in London : if you can put 
 a few hundreds in your pocket in that way, you know I should not 
 object to it. 
 
 Miss O'Neil established herself last night in Isabella, as the fi.rst 
 tragic actress of the day : her attraction is likely to continue, having 
 real merit for its support. 
 
 The Macbeth* of to-night I should think would be difierent. 
 
 * At Drury-lane. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 185 
 
 T find you do not like the little piece that was sent you : it had an 
 effect in Paris, and I thought, with your suggestions, it might have 
 done. 
 
 Ever yours sincerely, H. Haeeis. 
 
 In consequence of Mr. Harris's permission, my husband re- 
 sumed his public labours, performing his entertainment of the 
 " Mail-coach," first at Brighton to crowded houses, and after- 
 wards at the various towns, whence he writes to me on my return 
 home. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Birmingham, Dec. 15th, 1814. 
 
 You have really been more anxious and uneasy respecting my accident 
 and the ultimate consequence than myself.. I cannot reward your 
 kindness at present, but by immediate attention to your desires and 
 anxiety. Instantly on the receipt of your letter I consulted a surgeon ; 
 the experiment has been made ;. I have been perched up against the 
 wall before two persons, at distinct times and places, and the unquali- 
 fied opinion is, that there is not the minutest atom of difference between 
 the two feet when close together — both legs are of a length. I have 
 just arrived at the hospital with the surgeon, who has brought me 
 here for the benefit of the best electrical machine in the town. I have 
 had the satisfaction, for the first time since my accident, of seeing two 
 skeletons, one with, and the other without muscles. I have therefore 
 a good idea of the nature of my accident, which has been described to 
 me practically and theoretically. I am almost afraid * * * * is a 
 blockhead ; the surgeons here laughed at the socket of the muscle. I 
 may have one — but it is peculiar — a gift, like ventriloquism, for I 
 cannot find it in the remains of the two respectable gentlemen I have 
 seen, and one was a very skilful mail-robber and murderer, six feet four, 
 I have just been electrified, which I shall be everj^ day while I am here. 
 Now write me what Carpue says, — will he promise me to be quite well 
 again ? I don't care one penny if it is two years to come, for I never 
 wish to act again, and that will please the inquisitorial editor. I'll be 
 only a " mimic." The surgeon here thinks I shall walk again. As 
 soon as Carpue promises this, let me know. In great haste, but 
 delighted to save the post, and you, dearest, a moment's uneasiness, 
 I am ever (lame or active) yours, C, Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Stratford, Dec. 19th, 1814. 
 I think I said in my last, I should not quit Birmingham before 
 Monday ; but, thank Heaven, I have made my escape ! 
 
 I have accepted an offer from the manager of Warwick and Stratford- 
 upon-Avon, to fill up my time till Christmas, when I join Crisp at 
 Shrewsbury, that I may enjoy an opportunity which never before 
 
186 THE LIFE AND COREESPONDENCE OF 
 
 presented Itself, of wandering about the place where the divine Willy, 
 " Sweet swan of Avon," was born. I open there to-morrow, and play 
 a second night on Thursday. I have to-day been over Warwick 
 Castle, one of the most magnificent specimens of Gothic architecture 
 now left in the kingdom. There are some glorious pictures by Rubens, 
 Rembrandt, lots of Vandykes, very interesting indeed; original 
 portraits of the Charlese^ Henry VIII., Mary Queen of Scots, and one 
 that would have made you scream — a portrait of poor old George's 
 mother, and of him when an infant, and so like him ! They showed 
 me the ribs of the dun cow that Guy slew, certainly large enough for 
 an elephant ; his sword, above four feet long ; his walking-stick, seven 
 feet; and his porridge-pot of bronze, weighing eight hundred lbs., 
 and capable of containing one hundred gallons, which the porter gravely 
 told me Guy could eat half full for his breakfast. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 18? 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Mr. Mathews's return to town, and appearance in the character of 
 
 Whimsical mistake — Lord Tamworth. — Result of a Greenwich dinner — A 
 moral lesson — Dinner at Long's with Mr. Walter Scott and Lord Byron — 
 Mr. Mathews leaves town with Mr. Walter Scott — The ' ' Man on the Great 
 Horse," a startling incident of the road — Letters of Mr. Mathews from 
 Northampton — Account of his performance there — Mr. Mathews visits 
 Warwick Castle and Kenilworth with Mr. Walter Scott — Indiscreet dis- 
 closure of the authorship of the Waverley novels — Letter from Mr. Mathews 
 from Staffordshire; great theatrical exertion; curious epitaphs — Letter 
 from Mr. Mathews from Derbyshire — Invitation of Mr. Mathews to Windsor 
 Castle by Queen Charlotte — The Irish Mathews and his wife. 
 
 At the close of his provincial ramble, Mr. Mathews adjourned to 
 Brighton, whence, after a stay of some duration, he returned to 
 town on the 28th of March, and performed Falsiqff {or the first 
 time at Covent Garden. 
 
 Mr. Mathews had a great horror of a crowd, however genteel 
 a one it might be. A large evening party was his particular 
 abhorrence, and whenever we dined at any house, and heard 
 during the dessert the street-door intimation that the hostess 
 " saw company" in the evening, Mr. Mathews would give me a 
 look almost of anguish. When obliged to appear in the drawing- 
 room, he would do so in the most quiet manner, and then place 
 himself as much as possible out of general observation. A curious 
 circumstance happened one evening about this time, in an in- 
 sufferably crowded room. We were sitting behind a door upori 
 one large chair (the only one vacant), his lameness requiring rest, 
 and his gallantry not choosing to allow me to stand: we were 
 waiting for an opportunity to escape without chance of arrest 
 by the lady of the house, when a servant out of livery presented 
 some ices. My husband took one, and the man passed on. Mr. 
 Mathews, finding himself refreshed by this, beckoned another 
 man, who seemed in attendance, gave him the empty glass, and 
 told him to fetch another ice. In due time the man returned, 
 smiling and bowing as he presented the ice, and remained in 
 waiting to take away the glass, which was given to him \ and he 
 
188 THE LIFE AND COEEESPONDENCE OF 
 
 again disappeared. Presently he returned to the spot where 
 Mr. Mathews had first seen him, and shortly afterwards a gentle- 
 man whom he knew went up to him and entered into famihar 
 chat, as it seemed. Suddenly we saw our attendant take an 
 opera hat (the fashion of that day) off a chair near him, and walk 
 away arm-in-arm with his friend, for such he proved. In short, 
 our supposed servant out of livery turned out to be Lord Tam- 
 worth, who saw through my husband's mistake, and good- 
 naturedly humoured it. 
 
 I have sometimes thought that there is more propriety and 
 meaning in costly apparel in the upper ranks than most people 
 suppose, and that a gold-brocaded waistcoat upon a man of title 
 or fashion carries a moral with it, for being too expensive to be 
 purchased by a poor man, and too splendid in its effect to be 
 tolerated in common life, the wearer must either have palpably a 
 right to such a distinction, or suffer under the ridicule of aping 
 his betters. Thus, the necessity of looking different from his 
 superior precludes the temptation of imitating his habits of life. 
 
 During this summer " The Chip of the Old Block," written 
 by his friend and brother actor (and successor in York), Mr. 
 Knight. (" Little Knight"), and adapted to what was a most 
 delightful portion of his acting — namely, a half-tipsy droll* — was 
 performed. Mr. Mathews was peculiarly happy in this style of 
 character, and those who have seen his Caleb Fiplcin, in the 
 "May Queen" (one of the same class), and the gentleman- 
 tipsiness of his Bashful Man, will allow that in every represen- 
 tation of inebriety he was perfect. Indeed, it was strange how 
 completely he entered into every mood in which intoxication is 
 to be found, certainly without any experience in his own person, 
 and he never could endure the contemplation of it in another 
 with any good humour. 
 
 His disgust of a drunken man was almost feminine, and any 
 one who drank to excess habitually he never thoroughly esteemed, 
 however worthy in other respects the person might seem to be. 
 A very young man whom he knew had the unfortunate propensity 
 of daily taking more wine than his brain could bear. Upon one 
 occasion, after a G-reenwich dinner, this person behaved so 
 obstreperously in the carriage as the party returned to town, 
 that he exceedingly annoyed his friends, and even gave them 
 blows. Mr. Mathews, who was present, enlisted the other 
 
 * In this piece his celebrated "Nightingale Club," written for him by Mr. 
 Colman, was first sung. 
 
CHAELES MATHEWS. ]89 
 
 gentlemen in the coach in a plot to shame, if possible, th6 
 youthful offender out of this dreadful habit. It was agreed that 
 he should be told the next morning that he had, during his over- 
 night's paroxysm, beaten and injured my husband severely in the 
 coach. Consequently, as soon as he heard this, the young man 
 announced himself before Mr. Mathews was out of bed, who, 
 upon hearing who his visitor was, got up and prepared himself 
 in a manner that was quite extraordinary in so short a time, 
 telling me not to seem surprised at what he would explain at 
 leisure. He entered the room where the abashed visitor was in 
 waiting to apologize for his behaviour, and the injuries he had 
 inflicted. When he beheld my husband, he started back, as well 
 he might, and almost groaned, so shocked was he at the dreadful 
 state in which his friend appeared. Mr. Mathews had coloured 
 his face as if bruised ; but' the additional expression of suffering 
 which he contrived to throw into it was wonderful even to me, 
 
 who was in the secret. Poor absolutely shed tears, walked 
 
 about the room in all the agony of shame and remorse, declared 
 he would never more exceed a reasonable quantity of the exas- 
 perating liquor, and retired a perfect penitent. Whether the 
 amendment lasted, I am not aware, but it is certain that for a 
 time this lesson had its effect upon him, and he was never un- 
 deceived. This was as fine a piece of my husband's acting as 
 ever the public witnessed, and I regretted that it was confined to 
 
 so small an audience. Poor went from London soon after, 
 
 and we lost sight of him ; but I have often reflected with confi- 
 dence that this kindly-intentioned act of my husband might have 
 saved him from destruction. 
 
 On the morning of the 13th of September, Mr. Walter Scott 
 called in Lisle-street, to invite Mr. Mathews to an early dinner 
 with him, to meet Lord Byron, at Long's Hotel. My husband 
 had left home early on business previously to a journey he was 
 about to make, and I told Mr. Scott that he was on the point of 
 setting off that afternoon for Warwickshire, and that his place 
 in the coach was taken. Mr. Scott expressed his vexation on a 
 double account, first, that he could not see Mr. Mathews at 
 dinner ; next, that he had not been earlier aware of his intended 
 journey, for that he had long wished to visit Kenilworth, and 
 should have felt additional pleasure in doing so in his company. 
 Mr. Scott asked me whether I thought my husband would for- 
 feit his place in the coach, on condition that he left town with 
 him in the evening, to post into Warwickshire. I ventured to 
 promise that he would, and after turning over a portfolio of 
 
190 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 engravings, and chatting over them for about half an hour, the 
 charming man reminded me of his expectation of seeing my 
 husband at the appointed dinner-hour, which, for some reason I 
 now forget, was, I think, three o'clock. Just as Mr. Scott pre- 
 pared to take his leave, I observed that it was pouring with rain, 
 and that it was impossible he could go away without a coach. 
 He smiled, and refused my offer of sending for one. I then 
 pressed him to take an umbrella ; but he declared he never con- 
 sidered any sort of weather an impediment to his moving about 
 free from incumbrance of any kind. He was dressed oddly enough 
 for London, in a dark green coatee, single-breasted, and fashioned, 
 I thought, something like a Squire's hunting-jacket. His 
 nether garments were drab-coloured, with continuations down to 
 his shoes. Without further delay he departed, in the midst of 
 what appeared to me little less than a torrent of rain, through 
 which, leaning on a stout stick, he leisurely walked. As I stood 
 at the window gazing after him as he proceeded down Leicester- 
 place, he looked back with one of his fascinating smiles, and with 
 a playful nod of his head, as if to reassure me that he was doing 
 what was agreeable to him. I thought of the " Scotch mist," 
 and tried to reconcile myself to the complete wetting which this 
 pattern-Scott must have received long before he reached Bond- 
 street. 
 
 When my husband returned, I need not say that he was 
 charmed with the arrangement I had made for him. He had 
 never seen Lord Byron, and the combined delight of meeting 
 him in company with another great and remarkable man was 
 such as, in hackneyed phrase, may be " better conceived than 
 described." At a little before three o'clock, my husband took 
 leave of me, proceeded to Long's, and after dinner started thence, 
 with Mr. Walter Scott, and, I think, a nephew of his, also a 
 Mr. Scott. On the third morning I received the following 
 hurried despatch reporting progress — 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Friday Morning, 10 o'clock, Sept. 15th, 1815. 
 I am now breakfasting at Stony Stratford. The man on the great 
 horse arrived about six months back, after a tedious journey. I write 
 to remind you to go to Covent Garden treasury for my salary, or they 
 will forget to pay me, as of course I don't receive any alter I quit. 
 Delightful journey— Scott delicious. Introduced yesterday to Lord 
 Byron at dinner — handsomest man I ever saw. Send the enclosed slip 
 to Poole, directed to 36, Norfolk-street. God bless you. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 19] 
 
 The allusion to the " Man on the Grreat Horse," refers to an 
 incident half serious, half comic, which some years before oc- 
 curred to us in one of our midnight drives to the cottage already 
 mentioned, at Colney-Hatch. As we slowly ascended Highgate 
 Hill, a man upon one of the largest horses ever seen since the 
 " Bishop's breed," intercepted our progress, with an evident in- 
 tention of robbing us. He surveyed my husband as if mea- 
 suring the probable chances of repulse and defence. Upon Mr. 
 Mathews demanding his business, the man continued to look 
 curiously into the headed chaise in which we were seated, with 
 an intention, as we supposed, first to ascertain whether there was 
 anything like fire-arms, next, whether he had more than one 
 man to contend with. At this moment Mr. Decamp, who lived 
 on Finchley Common, overtook us, and seeing the design of the 
 stranger, called out, " Mathews, I've pistols, if you have not !" 
 upon hearing which, the man on the " great horse" removed his 
 position from our horse's head, and falteringly inquired, " Pray, 
 gentlemen, is this the road to Ston}'- Stratford ?" This question 
 caused a simultaneous laugh from the parties questioned ; and 
 the traveller was left to glean his information from the next 
 sign-post on his road. 
 
 Of the dinner at Long's my husband ever after spoke with 
 delight. Lord Byron was most fascinating; and this last 
 meeting (as it proved) between these two splendid men, to which 
 he was thus admitted, was always a subject of deep though 
 melancholy gratification to him. 
 
 With regard to Lord Byron's features, Mr. Mathews observed, 
 that he was the only man he ever contemplated, to whom he 
 felt disposed to apply the word beautiful. 
 
 In his Lordship's letters to Mr. Moore from Italy, this party 
 is mentioned; and Sir Walter Scott has also left a record, in his 
 own writing, of this remarkable day, in the following form — 
 
 I saw Bjron for the last time in 1815, after I returned from France. 
 He dined or lunched with me at Long's, in Bond-street. I never saw 
 him so full of gaiety and good humour ; to which the presence of Mr. 
 Mathews, the comedian, added not a little.* 
 
 Upon which Mr. Lockhart remarks — 
 
 " The only survivor (Mr. Scott) of the party, has recorded it in his 
 note-book as the most interesting day he ever spent." 
 
 * See "The Scotsman," 1830; and recently, Mr. Lockhart's interesting 
 life of his illustrious father-in-law. 
 
192 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Northampton, Tuesday, Sept. 19th, 1815. 
 
 I arrived safe and well at Leamington, on Friday, and when I saw 
 the handful of houses that compose the town, I felt that Mr. Ling had 
 hoaxed me, and much did I repent that I was advertised, — the antici- 
 pation was horrid ; and no musician could I get far or near till seven 
 o'clock, when one wretched country-dance fiddler arrived from a distance 
 of fiive miles. I soon found that he could not play a note. I began 
 my performance with an apology, stating that I had written forward to 
 request that all the musicians in the town might be engaged, and that 
 request had been complied with. "Ladies and gentlemen," said I, 
 "strictly all that are to be found are now in the orchestra; he is all. 
 I hope, however, that the defects of the singer may be compensated by 
 the ability of the musician, and vice versa ; and if the kindness of the 
 audience will but keep pace with our anxiety to please, my friend and 
 I cannot fail of success." This produced a great laugh, and when we 
 came to the first song, he in vain attempted to scratch a note or two, 
 and he literally was not heard during the whole evening, except 
 between the two acts, when, to rescue his fame, he boldly struck up a 
 country-dance, which he rasped away to the no small amusement of the 
 audience. 
 
 I had all the visitors, I believe, in the place ; and, to my amazement, 
 they produced me 271. We* had the next day a most delightful treat, 
 going all over Warwick Castle with Walter Scott. There, by accident, 
 I met Mr. Hall, whom you may recollect at Perry's and Hill's, who 
 was overjoyed at the luck of being introduced to Scotland's bard. He 
 also was journeying northward. We went on to the celebrated ruins of 
 Kenilworth, where we all dined; and I returned to Leamington. Mr. 
 Hall took the third of a chaise with Simpson and myself on towards 
 Derby, highly delighted at meeting with such post-chaise companions. 
 On Sunday we had a charming journey of thirty miles to this place. I 
 last night played Suskin, Cypher ^ and Somno ; the house crammed, 
 holds fifty, and we had fifty-six and a clear half, and expect as good to- 
 night. At present, therefore, all is propitious ; and it had need to be, 
 for the misery I endured at rehearsal yesterday, and last night — oh ! 
 such pumps. To-night I do the Entertainment — such velvet after 
 acting with them ! To-morrow, Coventry. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 On my husband's return home he described to me and others 
 the effect Kenilworth produced upon Mr. Walter Scott, whose 
 deHght and enthusiasm led him to make several remarkable ob- 
 servations while surveying these splendid ruins, all which were 
 indelibly impressed upon Mr. Mathews's memory ; and if any 
 evidence was then necessary to prove who the Great Unknown 
 was, the fact of those very phrases, and the precise quotations 
 
 * Hipiself and a friend, who acted at the time as his travelling assistant. 
 
I 
 
 CHARLES MATHEWS. 193~ 
 
 appearing in the Romance when it was published, was enough 
 to settle the point with those to whom they had been repeated. 
 
 But besides this an accidental disclosure had taken place at 
 our own table, which established indisputably the fact of Mr. 
 Scott being the author of the novels ; but of which we were 
 bound in honour, although not by any compact, to conceal our 
 knowledge for some time. 
 
 One day, Messrs. John Ballantyne, Constable, and Terry, were 
 dining with us, and during the dinner the Waverley novels had 
 been the theme of conversation. Mr. John Ballantyne had an 
 indiscreet vivacity sometimes, and moreover at this period felt a 
 more than ordinary exhilaration from the " generous" and truth- 
 telling wine, which prompted him to say, at the close of a speech 
 he had made about some books for which I asked him, " I shall 
 soon send you Scott's new novel !" I shall never forget the 
 consternation of the Messrs. Constable and Terry, and, indeed, 
 we were as much embarrassed. Mr. Constable looked daggers 
 — and Terry used some — for with a stern brow and a correcting 
 tone, he cried out " John !" adding with a growl, resembling what 
 is generally made to check or reprove a mischievous dog, — 
 "Ah ! what are you about ?" which made us drop our eyes in 
 pain for the indiscreet tattler ; while Wee Johnny looked like 
 an impersonation of Fear, — startled " at the sound himself had 
 made." Not another word was said; but our little good- 
 natured friend's lapse was sacred with us, and the secret was 
 never divulged while it was important to preserve it. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Stone, Staffordshire, Sept. 25tli, 1815. 
 We have just arrived, after a delightful drive from Birmingham, 
 forty miles, on our road to Manchester, where I am to give my En- 
 tertainments on Monday night. Our mode of travelling is most de- 
 lightful; and we have not had one shower since we started from 
 London. I have fagged very hard : have played already six nights, 
 and shall play again six nights next week. Was on the stage at 
 Northampton at half past-eleven o'clock on Tuesday ; up at half-past 
 five, Wednesday ; went thirty-five miles to Coventry, and played that 
 night. Found on my arrival a hall empty ; not a seat, not a chandelier 
 — no musicians — no nothing ; and at a quarter before five I had not a 
 prospect of being able to open. I went through every street of Coventry 
 — to the mayor, to an alderman (for " Crazy"* was not to be found) — 
 to carpenters, fiddlers; but, however, I mean to publish a small 
 
 * The name of a superannuated member of the corporation, in O'Keefe's farce 
 of "Peeping Tom." ^ 
 
 O 
 
194 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 pamphlet with " More Miseries ;" and that day's adventures will beat 
 Beresford and Carr hollow. You can have no notion of my temper, my 
 coolness, my perseverance ; Simpson was astonished — hobbler as I am, 
 I knocked him up : he could not follow me. At half-past seven I had 
 a very elegant audience, all seated on about thirty long forms, dragged 
 from a church; sixty candles in two chandeliers, dragged from the 
 town-hall, a raised stage, branches, three music-stands, and three bad 
 fiddlers, who could not play "God save the King" between them.* It 
 was magic ; and all went off well. Lots of " more miseries" on my 
 arrival at Birmingham. EUiston, who left me on Thursday to go down, 
 acted at Covent-garden on Friday, and only arrived yesterday. Such 
 confusion, such madness, such misery ; I was outrageous at him ; but 
 here again we got through. I concluded last night in " The Sleep 
 Walker," with three cheers, and the little merry rascal supped with. 
 me, and my anger vanished. Would you believe it, I was not adver- 
 tised till Wednesday, at ten o'clock, to perform that night. My tour is 
 now regularly arranged. Wednesday, Sheffield; Thursday, Derby; 
 Friday and Saturday, Leicester, with Macready ; Sunda}'-, I start for 
 home. Pray, write me a letter by return. Direct it — Mr. Drewry, 
 Printer, Derby. Don't fail, for it is a great delight to see your hand- 
 writing outside a letter, when I am full of puckers. God bless you and 
 my dear boy ! I am full of rude health and in excellent spirits. I am 
 improved a month in my lameness since I left you, and always turn my 
 toe in when I think of you, which I assure you is very, very often. 
 Adieu ! 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 Epitaphs found to-day at Pankridge : 
 
 Here lies a virgin pure, 
 Eat up with grief and fleas, 
 Unto a place of rest, 
 For her relief. 
 
 {Literatim et verbatim.) 
 
 A mild and dutiful son his here, 
 Likewise 2 tender infants dear ; 
 So loving and obedient were 
 The children who lies reposing here. 
 
 To Mrs. MatJiews. 
 
 Ashborn, Derbyshire, Sept. 29th, 1815. 
 Here we are, after a most delicious journe}'', through a most fertile 
 and romantic country, from Manchester through Buxton, to this place; 
 forty-four miles from the former, which we left this morning at seven. 
 
 ^ * In other words, the simplest air. 
 
CHAKLES MATHEWS. 195 
 
 I have one unexpected non-play nic^ht, which is almost the only chance 
 I have of snatching an hour to tell you of my progress. I hope you 
 will do me the justice to believe that I am never disposed to neglect an 
 opportunity of writing to you. The fag I have had on this expedition 
 is not to be imagined. However, I am still, like Wilson the pedestrian, 
 in excellent strength, and confident of completing my undertaking. On 
 my return, I can say that I have played eleven nights, and travelled 
 nearly five hundred miles, in a fortnight. You and I agreed, you will 
 remember, that 200Z. (considering the hurry and want of organization 
 of my scheme), would be a good sum to bring home, remembering the 
 extra expense of Simpson's journeys to and from Northampton, my 
 posting to Leamington, &c. Up to this morning, putting all down, I 
 clear 225/. ! and have yet Derby to-morrow, and two nights at Lei- 
 cester (but there I only share with Macready) ; so I think that I have 
 done nobly. 
 
 The weather, which has been so propitious during our travelling here, 
 was most unfortunate for my benefit night at Birmingham, and 
 Manchester last night, raining torrents. Last night it hurt me much. 
 I could not resist relating to you what I consider, under all circum- 
 stances, " Prodigious !" I direct this to town, to request that you will 
 write, to inform me of the play on Monday, and if they act on Tuesday, 
 and what. If I play on Monday, I can be there easily in time ; but 
 would prefer, for the horse's sake, to reach town on Tuesday morning ; 
 however, as my furlough expires on Saturday, I must expect to act on 
 Monday. 
 
 Chables Mathews. 
 Mrs. Mathews, Lisle-street, Leicester-square. 
 
 In November, another command from her Majesty, to perform 
 to her at Windsor Castle, most graciously worded, reached Mr. 
 Mathews, who again was unable to attend the summons, made 
 through Lieutenant-Colonel Stephenson. 
 
 o2 
 
196 THE LIFE AND COERESPONDENCE OF 
 
 CHAPTEE XX. 
 
 Mr. Mathews at the Haymarket Theatre — Unnecessary offers of assistance — 
 Letter to Mrs. Mathews from Worthing — Unintentional compliment — 
 Methodistical playgoers— Visit to France by Mr. Mathews and Mr. Yates — 
 Mr. Mathews's engagement with Mr. Arnold — His visit to Paris with that 
 gentleman — Letter to Mrs. Mathews from Paris — Tiercelin, Brunet, and 
 Potier — Invitation to Mr. Mathews's "At Home" — Programme of the 
 entertainment — Mr. Mathews's introductory address — Extraordinary success 
 of the speculation — Mr. Mathews's sudden illness — Mr. Arnold and his 
 bond — Amelioration of the agreement — Disti'essing malady. 
 
 On the 17th of June, 1817, Mr. Mathews's dramatic idol, John 
 Kemble, took his leave of the public. It was an affecting 
 evening, although in a great measure gratifying to his friends 
 and admirers. After the curtain dropped upon his last bow, a 
 relic of this great ornament to his profession was eagerly sought 
 by all who crowded round the " last of all the Eomans." He 
 presented the sandals he had worn that night in Coriolanus, to 
 my husband, who exclaimed, as he bore away his prize, " I may 
 wear his sandals, but no one will ever stand in his shoes.'' 
 
 On the 27th a public farewell-dinner was given to Mr. Kemble. 
 Lord Holland took the head of the table, and on his right hand 
 sat the object of the meeting ; on his left the Duke of Bedford. 
 Messrs. Young, C. Kemble, and Mathews, presided at the other 
 tables. After the presentation of a splendid vase, prepared by 
 some of his admirers, an ode was recited by Mr. Young, from 
 the pen of Campbell, the Bard of Hope. Lord Holland then 
 proposed " the health of Mr. Mathews (at the same time pro- 
 claiming him to have been the suggester as well as promoter of 
 the compliment to Mr. Kemble), and the Committee," which 
 distinction was acknowledged by Mr. Mathews in an appropriate 
 speech. 
 
 The Haymarket season, which commenced this year on the 
 7th of July, brought Mr. Mathews once more before a summer 
 audience in London, after an absence of two years. He made 
 his appearance in Scout^ in " The Village Lawyer," one of those 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 197 
 
 unique performances not to be described, and the enthusiasm 
 with which he was hailed is equally indescribable. 
 
 It seems strange, that whenever an individual attempt is 
 successfully made, a general desire should be created to imitate 
 the plan, whether with or without ability or means. What is 
 still more strange, however, is, that when it is clearly manifest 
 that individuality has constituted the pith and charm of the 
 enterprise, people not without judgment in other respects, should 
 propose to nullify this success by offering their co-operation, 
 forgetting that it is the very popularity of the plan, the basis 
 of which they would thus infallibly upset, which has induced them 
 to make this offer. 
 
 As soon as Mr. Mathews proved his singular power in his " At 
 Homes,*' and that he could attract overflowing audiences, with- 
 out any personal assistance, he was assailed by. proposals of all 
 sorts, from all sorts of people, to be admitted into his entertain- 
 ment. When he was performing in Dublin to crowded houses, 
 a conjuror, then exhibiting there to almost empty benches, 
 wrote to him, absurdly offering him his " services," upon the 
 consideration of receiving an " equal share of Mr. Mathews's 
 profits." 
 
 All such proposals, of course, were declined, but not in a 
 solitary instance without giving great offence to the applicants. 
 
 At the close of the Haymarket season, Mr. Mathews re- 
 sumed his provincial pursuits and his correspondence with 
 myself. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Worthing, October 1st, 1817. 
 
 I am just arrived here, and shall stay till Sunday. My benefit last 
 night produced 105Z. making my profits since last Wednesday, 140Z. ; 
 so I have got beyond the right reading. This is 40Z. beyond my most 
 sanguine guess. 
 
 I must tell you a " little anecdote," which is the greatest compliment 
 that I ever received. During my performance at Brighton, Mrs. 
 George Farren's mother and sister went to see me " At Home ;" the 
 former was so disgusted at my " imposition on the public," that she 
 actually lett the house at the end of the ventriloquy, and dragged her 
 daughter with her. She said it ought to be exposed in the public 
 papers, for that she saw the man under the stage give me up the wine, 
 — and that people could be such fools as to believe I spoke for that 
 child, and the old man, so provoked her, that she would not stay to be 
 one of them. 
 
 I patronise your plan with Charles. Tell him that I am fagging at 
 French myself now. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
198 THE LIFE AND CORKESPONDENCE OF 
 
 Southampton, October 11 tb, 1817. 
 
 The whole of yesterday I was absent on a trip to the Isle of Wight, 
 and most delightful it was. An old friend, a Mr. Lynn, took me over 
 in his yacht; we returned and dined aboard, and got home in the 
 evening. 
 
 I have received great attention here. Mrs. Siddons's friend, Mrs. 
 ritzhugh, called on me. One morning, to my great amazement, I saw 
 a procession of about eight persons enter my drawing-room, my bed- 
 room door being open ; and when I entered, I perceived Mr. Cooke the 
 Methodist clergyman, and family, and other regular bred Methodists of 
 the town. Think of that ! 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 Mr. Cooke was one of those well-educated and liberal Christians 
 who recommend religion by their own example ; too sincere in 
 himself to suppose it necessary to be always talking goodness 
 to others, and too well-bred and feeling to insult those he might 
 find less excellent than himself. Several like him, whom T used 
 to meet in my husband's family, were alone sufficient to redeem 
 a whole conventicle of Maw worms. I well remember a North- 
 amptonshire preacher who always came up to London when 
 Mrs. Siddons and John Kemble performed, for the pleasure of 
 hearing them. He admitted to me, that this was unknown to 
 his connexion, but he saw no impropriety in such a gratification ; 
 still, he had no right, he said, to shock the prejudices of his sect 
 by thus proclaiming his opinion of their narrowness of mind. 
 On the occasions of the "At Homes," however, many of Mr. 
 Mathews's family connexions were followers of his " Lectures," 
 and did not hesitate to acquaint themselves with the inside of a 
 theatre to hear their old friend's son " hold forth," to whom it 
 would otherwise have been unknown : these were always observed 
 to be amongst the most delighted of the audience. 
 
 Pursuant to an arrangement made with Mr. Yates,* Mr. 
 
 • * Frederic Henry Yates, comedian, born in London 1797, educated at 
 Charter-house, and intended for the army. Entered the Commissariat, and 
 was engaged during the last years of the Peninsular War. Tired of inactivity, 
 after the battle of Waterloo be embraced the dramatic profession, for which he 
 had always evinced a strong predilection. He acted for some time, both at 
 Drury-Iane and Covent-garden, but it was not until he became part proprietor 
 and manager of the Adelphi that his talents were fully appreciated. Under 
 his regime, this little theatre established a specialite for melodramas and 
 farces which rendered it one of the most favourite resorts of the day. His 
 exertions were ably seconded by his wife, the daughter of Mr. Brunton, a 
 well-known provincial manager and actor. Mr. Yates died in June, 1842, 
 from the bursting of a bloodvessel in the chest, caused by over -exertion, at 
 the early age of forty-five. 
 
CHAKLES MATHEWS. 199 
 
 Mathews visited France, for the first time, towards the close of 
 this year. The plan was, to perform the " Actor of all Work," 
 wherever the English were deemed numerous enough to make 
 up an audience commensurate with his views. Mr. Yates was 
 to perform "the manager," not only in the above piece, but in all 
 things else where Mr. Mathews found himself in want of an 
 assistant. 
 
 Mr. Yates was at this time young upon the stage, but gave 
 promise of the superior talents he has since matured. He was 
 a most agreeable companion, and a great favourite with Mr. 
 Mathews, while his acquahitance with French customs, and 
 English officers stationed abroad — from his knowledge of them 
 while a youth in the commissariat department — rendered him 
 a more than commonly desirable fellow-traveller on such an 
 expedition. 
 
 On their return to England, Mr. Mathews separated from Mr. 
 Y''ates, professionally, as will be seen by his letters descriptive of 
 his visit to Scotland, where Mr. Yates was, I believe, engaged as 
 a tragedian. 
 
 To Mr. Arnold of the Lyceum Theatre belonged the judg- 
 ment to perceive the advantage to be derived from the individual 
 exertions of Mr. Mathews. Mr. Arnold's discrimination and 
 shrewdness led to the conclusion, which Mr. Mathews had never 
 calculated upon to any such extent ; indeed, he was ill at calcu- 
 lation in any shape. Mr. Arnold had, in fact, prudently laid by 
 for the time, which he saw approaching, from my husband's evi- 
 dent dissatisfaction with the winter theatres ; and when it came, 
 promptly offered him a remedy for present discontent, and a 
 security from similar mortification in future. Briefly, Mr. Arnold 
 proposed to buy up for a term of years Mr. Mathews's talents, 
 and to become sole master and comptroller of them ; to take all 
 chances and risks ; and, what was most tempting to my hus- 
 band, all the trouble ! Strange to say, Mr. Mathews thought 
 he could be satisfied and happy under such a servitude. But 
 he had a bad head for business : and Mr. Arnold enjoined secrecy; 
 even I was not to be admitted into their conferences ; and all 
 was listened to on the one side without any clear understanding 
 of his obhgations. The income, and the employment of his 
 powers, were all, as it afterwards proved, that Mr. Mathews re- 
 tained of the conditions. He was disgusted with his late posi-» 
 tion, and, what he could not but feel, the injustice of' the winter 
 managers. He panted^'for freedom, fancied it was now offered to 
 him, and heedlessly rushed into tenfold captivity. 
 
200 THE LIFE AND COKRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 When too late for objection or interference, I was told what 
 he had done : sold himself for the most valuable part of his public 
 life to a person who originally, by his objectionable management 
 of the Lyceum in 1810 (as Mr. Mathews conceived it), drove 
 him from London ; but, under his present excitement against 
 others, all this had been overlooked or forgotten. Reproaches 
 on my part would have been as useless as kind ; the arrangement 
 was made, and, as far as honour was concerned, past recall ; he 
 had pledged his word to Mr. Arnold. A trivial circumstance 
 recurred to me, and was now explained, which at the time caused 
 me a slight surprise and some offence. It was* on the first ap- 
 pointment (as it afterwards appeared) made by the parties. I 
 had engaged, by my husband's wish, to accompany some friends 
 to a concert : he refused to go ; the carriage was late, and Mr. 
 Arnold was punctual. I wondered at his call at such an hour, 
 especially as no intimacy subsisted. He fixed his eyes upon the 
 lights in the room for a moment, and taking a pinch of snuff, as 
 if out of humour, asked, or rather exclaimed, in a sharp tone, 
 " What ! do you burn wax candles ? — a great extravagance !" 
 I started at the liberty I conceived he took, without answering 
 him. " A feather will show which way the wind blows." Our 
 future master was calculating, that with the reductions his plan 
 would require in our mode of living, it would be necessary to 
 give up all refinements. 
 
 As soon as I was assured that the matter was irrevocably 
 determined upon, and that my husband's time, previously to the 
 arrangement coming into action, was to be spent in a tour, I 
 persuaded him to let me begin our contracted system at once, to 
 give up our little carriage and servants, and allow me to take a 
 small furnished cottage near my boy's school, at least till the 
 result of Mr. Arnold's experiment was ascertained, which was 
 to take place in the spring of the next year. In agreement with 
 this proposal, I removed from Lisle-street to the Clapham-road 
 cottage. Having settled all preliminaries for commencing the 
 new scheme, Mr. Arnold and my husband made a short visit to 
 Paris, where Mr. Mathews had never been. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Paris, March 12tli, 1818. 
 I arrived here safely yesterday, and as soon as we had dined, went 
 with Poole, who found us out within an hour of our arrival, to the 
 Theatre des Varietes, where I saw three of the finest actors I have ever 
 beheld, Tiercelin, Brunet, and Potier. 
 
 To-day we have been walking about to see the palaces and principal 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 201 
 
 public buildings. You have heard so much from various visitors, who 
 are naturally lull of communication upon these topics, that it is not 
 possible I can say anything new. I am lost in wonder. The Tuileries' 
 palace and gardens, and all the better parts of this most magnificent 
 city, far exceed my most sanguine expectation ; the immense popula- 
 tion, and the extraordinary " gigs" that are to be encountered at every 
 corner, keep both eyes in a constant rotatory motion, and all the risible 
 faculties in unceasing exertion. The most public walks, particularly 
 those of the Palais Royal, being a mixture of Exeter Change and Vaux- 
 hall Gardens on a gala night, present such a ridiculous mixture of 
 character and costume, that you cannot divest 3'^our mind of the idea 
 that they are walking in masquerade dresses. I have seen one hundred 
 men to-day exactly like the mask Liston wore at Charles Kemble's ; 
 and the coal-scuttle Grimaldi wore in the pantomime is no caricature of 
 the women's head-dresses. We saw Gavaudan, whom Poole described 
 as a most enchanting comic actress. One scene excelled anything I 
 have seen in England, as far as Covent Garden excels Drury-lane. 
 Potier convulsed me with laughter ; his face is a very comic consump- 
 tive likeness of Young in " The Stranger ;" and he played Werter in 
 burlesque. 
 
 Arnold and I had a dinner to-day of three dishes — a bottle of claret, 
 and another of burgundy ; and our bill was 8*. '2id. English. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 P.S. — I dine to-day at Talma's. 
 
 Toward the end of March the following simple announce- 
 ment heralded Mr. Mathews's first attempt to face the town 
 single-handed. 
 
 The public are respectfully informed that Mr. Mathews will be " At 
 Home," at the Theatre Royal English Opera House, on the 2nd, 4th, 
 6th, 7th, 9th, and 11th of April. Particulars of the Entertainments 
 to which the Public are invited will be duly announced. 
 
 The title given to this "invitation" was a most felicitous one 
 as it turned out, but was undoubtedly open to many critical 
 taunts, had the entertainment happened to be less fortunate. 
 The public expectation was strongly excited; the house was 
 filled at an early hour ; and the following bill, delivered at the 
 entrance, was eagerly perused during the overture, performed by 
 one musician on a pianoforte placed on one side of the stage. 
 The preparations that met the eye of the expectants were simply 
 a drawing-room scene, a small table covered with a green cloth, 
 a chair behind it, and a lamp placed at either end. Without 
 further appliances, or means of dramatic effect, the performer 
 came forward in his private dress, as he would have entered any 
 evening party. His reception was enthusiastic. The following 
 is a copy of the bill : — 
 
202 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 Theatre Royal English Opera House, Strand. 
 
 The public are respectfully informed, that they will find Mr. Mathews 
 " At Home," this evening, Thursday, April 2nd, 1818; Saturday the 
 4th, and on the Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday following, 
 when he will have the honour of presenting his visitors with an Enter- 
 tainment called 
 
 MAIL-COACH ADVENTURES. 
 
 Affording an introduction for various comic songs, imitations, &c. 
 Previous to which he will address the company on the subject of his 
 present attempt. 
 
 PAET riEST. 
 
 Recitation — Introductory Address, general improvement in the con- 
 veyance of live lumber, as exemplified in the progress of heavy coach, 
 light coach, caterpillar, and mail. — Whimsical description of an expedi- 
 tion to Brentford. 
 
 Song — Mlail- coach. 
 
 Recitation — Description of the passengers. — Lisping Lady and Critic 
 in Black. 
 
 Song — Royal Visitors. 
 
 Recitation — Breaking of a spring. — Passengers at High gate. — 
 Literary Butcher. — Socrates in the Shambles. — Definition of Belles 
 Lettres. — French Poets. — Rhyming defended. 
 
 Song — Cobbler a la Francaise. 
 
 Recitation— Theatrical conversation. — Dimensions of Drury-lane 
 and Covent Garden stages. — Matter-of-fact conversation; satire on 
 truisms. 
 
 Song — Incontrovertible Facts in various branches of Knowledge. 
 
 PAET SECOND. 
 
 Mr. Mathews will deliver an Experimental Lecture on Ventriloquy. 
 
 PAET THIED. 
 
 Recitation — Digression on the study of the Law : whimsical trial, 
 Goody Grim versus Lapstone. — Scramble at Supper. — Drunken Farmer. 
 —Extract from Hippisley's drunken man. 
 
 Song — London Newspapers. 
 Recitation — Imitation of Fond Barney of York. — Arrival of a Scotch 
 Lady. — Long story about nothing. 
 
 Song — Bartholomew Fair. 
 Recitation — A Quack Doctor. — Mountebank's harangue. — Anecdote 
 of a Yorkshireman. 
 
 Song — The Nightingale Club. 
 The Entertainment to conclude with novel specimens of Imitation, 
 in which several tragic and comic performers will give their different 
 ideas how *' Hamlet's advice to the Players" should be spoken. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 203 
 
 this first attempt, the notices published at the time con- 
 i more perfect account than any I could now give. This 
 
 Of 
 tain a more perfect account than any 
 
 first performance, though composed of materials which had been 
 presented to the public during the previous ten years, was hailed 
 in a collected form with extraordinary delight, and its success 
 may be considered a greater triumph of his skill and versatile 
 powers than all he afterwards did, even with the advantage of 
 novelty. The following was Mr. Mathews's Introductory 
 Address : — 
 
 Ladies and Gentlemen, — Appearing before you in this novel way, it 
 will naturally be expected that I should give some explanation of the 
 motive that has induced me to make so bold an attempt as that of 
 offering you a whole evening's entertainment by my own individual 
 exertions. It is simply this : — public approbation has long since flat- 
 tered me into the belief, that I have some pretensions to the title of a 
 comic actor. The vanity of mankind is easily roused by the encourage- 
 ment of popular applause; and I am not aware that actors, though 
 proverbially modest, are more exempt from vanity than patriots and 
 statesmen. Fully gratified in this particular, it has therefore been my 
 highest ambition to appear before you in the legitimate shape of a 
 regular comedian. Circumstances, however, which I could neither con- 
 trol nor account for, have deprived me of the opportunity of so doing. 
 In the meantime, I have been frequently urged by my friends to attempt 
 an entertainment by myself, and reminded with what success the cele- 
 brated Dibdin had, during several winters, kept audiences together by 
 his single exertions. Still I preferred the. exercise of my profession as 
 a member of the national theatre ; and could I have been indulged in 
 the first wish of my heart, that of appearing frequently before you in 
 characters of legitimate comedy, in that capacity I should, probably, have 
 remained to the end of my days, without ever attempting to exhibit that 
 little knack for distinct mimicry to which I since have unfortunately 
 been exclusively doomed. 
 
 In the latter part of my last winter's engagement it became evident 
 to me, that all hopes of attaining my favourite object were at an end. 
 I scarcely ever had the opportunity of appearing before you but in 
 characters solely devoted to the peculiarities of mimicry. The press, 
 perhaps unconsciously, took its tone from the managers ; and a part of 
 it (I do not say the whole, for I should be ungrateful if I did), but a 
 part fell into the habit of designating me as a mere mimic, and no 
 actor. It will, however, be observed, that the best authorities have 
 characterized the drama by the title of the mimic art ; and I humbly 
 conceive, that, without mimicry, there can be no acting. It is the very 
 essence of personation, and he who cannot personate the character 
 imagined by an author, in my mind can never be an actor. If this 
 argument, which I have presumed to advance, be admitted, it is surely 
 a strange deduction, that a man ceases to be an actor because he 
 personates half a dozen characters in a drama instead of one. Be this 
 
204 THE LIFE AND COERESPONDENCE OF 
 
 as it may, such has been the opinion given in my particular case. The 
 public naturally supposed the peculiarities of my cast of characters to 
 be my own taste. I therefore hope I shall be excused for taking this 
 my only opportunity of avowing my firm attachment to that legitimate 
 drama of the country, which I devoutly hope may one day be restored 
 to us. 
 
 I trust it is clearly understood, that I have spoken not of motives, 
 but of effects. I have not the slightest disposition to attribute my 
 treatment to any illiberal feeling : it was probably accidental ; but the 
 facts are undeniable, and the results to me the same as if they had been 
 premeditated. Daring the last season, which consisted of two hundred 
 and thirty-nine nights, I had only the opportunity of appearing forty- 
 six, and not once in a character in a comedy. It is true that twelve 
 nights of those forty-six I rode one of the finest horses the stud of the 
 theatre could afford ;* but even this, though I certainly was exalted by 
 it, did not satisfy mj' ambition. During the rest of the time, to make 
 use of a theatrical term, I was laid upon the shelf; but I was too fond 
 of my profession and public applause to lie quietly there. I grew 
 restless and fidgetty, and like a good soldier, who feels he has not yet 
 done half his duty, whenever I peeped from my uneasy quarters, and 
 saw a muster of the dramatic corps, 
 
 My soul was in arms, and eager for the fray ; 
 
 in which I might prove my zeal and my devotion in your service. But 
 this was not permitted. At length I suspected my services were not 
 required at all; and therefore, " Like a well-bred dog who walks quietly 
 down stairs when he sees violent preparations on foot for kicking hiin 
 into the street," I followed the example of my betters, and resigned, 
 rather than run the risk of staying to be turned out. I retired. It 
 was my own act. I complain of no one. I only assert my right to 
 make use of whatever talent may have been bestowed on me to the 
 best advantage to myself: for if 1 can only be allowed to exhibit those 
 talents in a national theatre, which I once wished to be confined to the 
 amusement of my private friends ; if I cannot be allowed my chance, 
 like other actors, in the usual way ; if the regular practitioners will 
 drive me to quackery, why I will sell my medicines on my own account, 
 and they shall call me mountebank, if they like; but if such I am, 
 like one, I will have a stage to myself My vanity, if they please, has 
 led me to make the attempt. It is a bold one, but the encouragement 
 is in your hands. If I can stand single-handed against the hosts of 
 superior entertainment by which I am surrounded, it will be a feather 
 in my cap. It is in your power to place the feather there ; and if it is 
 once planted, be assured it shall be worn gratefully, as well as tri- 
 umphantly. I feel, however, considerable anxiety for the result, and 
 unaffectedly acknowledge my fearful diffidence of my own abilities. 
 
 * Mr. Harris had introduced horses into the drama of ''Lodoiska," in 
 which Mr. Mathews performed Varbel. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 205 
 
 The difficulties of my task are so numerous and obvious, that were I a 
 stranger in the land, I should abandon it to despair ; but when I look 
 round me, and reflect on the numerous instances of kindness I have 
 received, gratitude for past favours, and zeal to merit new ones, conspire 
 to banish those apprehensions which an undertaking like mine had so 
 naturally excited ; and I enter on my task without more apology, or 
 further adding to a preface which, I fear, has already too long encroached 
 upon your patience. 
 
 This was, indeed, an unprecedented instance of individual 
 success. The crowds that nightly flocked to witness the per- 
 formance seemed scarcely to lessen the number of hourly appli- 
 cants for places : not a day passed without many private en- 
 treaties from persons who were disappointed in procuring places 
 at the box-office to Mr. Mathews, to contrive that they should 
 be accommodated, as if the theatre had been elastic, and could 
 be stretched at pleasure for their gratification. Innumerable 
 letters from all ranks of persons were addressed to my husband 
 to obtain admittance. The following owes its preservation to 
 its being kept as an autograph of a celebrated person : — 
 
 24, Bury-street, St. James's, Tuesday, April 30th, 1818. 
 
 My DEA.B SiE, — I am here but for a short time, and have set apart 
 Thursday for the very great treat of hearing you at the Lyceum j but 
 as they tell me it will be next to impossible to find places without 
 having before secured a box, I presume so far on my acquaintance with 
 you as to beg your interest for three seats somewhere. My friend, Mr. 
 Irving (the author of "The Sketch-Book") is one of those that accom- 
 pany me. 
 
 Yours very truly, Thomas Mooee, 
 
 Here, then, was the result of Mr. Arnold's calculation. For 
 my own part, I felt stunned with the blow, for such it seemed 
 to our future happiness. The wondrous success of the night 
 spoke loudly to me of my husband's imprudence and precipitancy ; 
 and while our friends came one after another to my box to con- 
 gratulate me, and bring me cheering messages from others, I 
 hardly knew how to separate my real satisfaction at the popu- 
 larity of Mr. Mathews from the depressing recollection that the 
 most solid result of his success was for the benefit almost of a 
 stranger ; and when I greeted him, upon our return home, it 
 would have been curious to an observer to see our manner to each 
 other, which might have been said to resemble the twofold ex- 
 pression of the ingenious French grimacer, the one half of whose 
 face laughed while the other cried. This was really the case 
 
206 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 with our feelings, for we rejoiced and mourned at one and the 
 same time. 
 
 However, we agreed to remain in our little cottage, and tried 
 to he content. The next day Mr. Mathews felt ill ; but he ral- 
 lied, and reappeared a second night, with the same results. He 
 came home sick and feverish : but again and again he performed 
 his task, and the appetite of the town seemed to grow " by what 
 it fed on ;" the demand for places nightly exceeded the number 
 to be obtained ; and Mr. Arnold's anxiety natural^ augmented 
 at this extraordinary popularity of his project, lest it should be 
 known that he was the principal gainer by it ; and he cautioned 
 me frequently not to betray the secret, for, as he suggested, it 
 was possible that the public would feel disappointed to find Mr. 
 Mathews not the principal person benefited by his performance. 
 All this was painful, and bitterly did we feel the numerous con- 
 gratulations we received upon the speedy fortune that must 
 accrue from such a source. Mr. Mathews, however, resolutely 
 went on, ill as he felt, determined to abide the result of his own 
 rashness, reasonably and honourably reflecting, that, as Mr. 
 Arnold had taken all the risk, he had fairly a right to the profit 
 arising from the success of his speculation. 
 
 It was my original intention, as it was my earnest wish, to 
 remain silent upon the subject of Mr. Mathews's engagement to 
 Mr. Arnold ; for to touch upon it even slightly was a very painful 
 effort to me on many accounts, and I should have passed over 
 the whole transaction, had it not been pointed out to me as a 
 duty to the memory of my husband, paramount to every other 
 consideration, to confute the universal belief of his having made 
 a prodigious sum of money in this the first, and the six following 
 seasons, of his " At Homes." This was a very natural impres- 
 sion, from the well-known great receipts consequent upon the 
 performance. At the period of which I speak, while he was 
 receiving the congratulations of all his friends at the rapid fortune 
 he was accumulating, he was inwardly regretting the too humble 
 estimate of his own powers, which had led him into the mistake 
 of binding himself as a servant where he ought to have been the 
 master. When Mr. Mathews first stood singly before the public 
 — when the building in which he performed almost groaned 
 under the weight of spectators — when he who attracted them 
 was supposed by his individual merit, his unremitting mental 
 and bodily toil, to be receiving a proportionate reward for his 
 unparalleled exertions, he was, in fact, a poorer man than he 
 had found himself for many years. 
 
CHAELES MATHEWS. 207 
 
 I shall content myself with this assertion : the evidences are 
 in my possession, and I earnestly desire to commit them to 
 oblivion ; but I cannot forget the deep anguish my dear husband 
 felt for his incautious, unadvised precipitancy, in devoting to 
 another what he too late felt should have chiefly benefited his 
 family, for he thought not of himself. He repented the step for 
 ever afterwards, although he never suffered his bad bargain to 
 lead him willingly into any neglect of the interest of the person 
 whose fortune he was making during the long period he was so 
 bound. It was harassing, however, to find his means constantly 
 overrated, for the fallacy of his enormous receipts affected him 
 in various ways during the rest of his life ; he was always, there- 
 fore, annoyed when told of his vast possessions, for he was said 
 to be worth more money than he ever earned.* In this extra- 
 vagant estimate of his riches, no allowance was thought of for 
 his living, the education of his son, and other necessary as well 
 as incidental expenses. The simple fact of his standing alone 
 before the public for so many years, naturally enough led to this 
 false conclusion ; but those who held up their hands with admira- 
 tion at the immense fortune he was making, were unacquainted 
 with the main fact of his situation with Mr. Arnold, and the 
 requisite expenses and drawbacks that attended his individual 
 performances, when he travelled for his own profit. When he 
 made a tour in the provinces his expenses were excessive ; he 
 was compelled to take assistants, servants, carriages, machinery, 
 pianoforte, wardrobe, &c. ; and when he could not spare time to 
 travel with his own horses (a not inexpensive plan), he had 
 ruinous posting to pay. Inn bills were of no trivial amount for 
 four persons (himself, his managing man, musician, and servant) ; 
 hiring and preparing rooms and theatres, with their appendages, 
 demanded a heavy disbursement, for advantage was taken, under 
 the dishonest reckoning that his superior receipts warranted 
 every encroachment upon them ; when other applicants were 
 charged five guineas for a room or a theatre, Mr. Mathews was 
 frequently required to pay twelve or fourteen. I remember as 
 an instance of this, that once when his managing man went for- 
 ward to secure a small theatre for his performance, the demand 
 was three guineas per night for its use ; but, upon being made 
 acquainted for whom it was to be engaged, he was immediatel}'- 
 informed by the agent that when Mr. , the proprietor, left 
 
 * In more than one instance be was said to possess a * * plum." 
 
208 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 orders for letting it, he desired that should Mr. Mathews happen 
 to apply, it must not be let to him under nine !* 
 
 But to return. One day a gentleman who was on habits of 
 great intimacy with my hiisband, finding his hearty congratula- 
 tions upon his prospect of realising a speedy fortune produce no 
 satisfaction, suspected that something was withheld which ren- 
 dered them unwelcome ; and feeling a real interest in the pros- 
 perity of our family, he at length drew a confidential admission 
 of discontent, and a partial revelation of the circumstances in 
 which he was placed. He then delivered up to his legal friend's 
 investigation the heart of his mystery, by producing the fatal 
 parchment ; and, strange to say, from this accidental inspection 
 Mr. Mathews first became thoroughly acquainted with the whole 
 extent of his obligations. I have no apology to offer for a mani- 
 fest and censurable indiscretion, but my husband's inborn and 
 unfortunate hatred to the formalities of business. In the present 
 case, when the time arrived for final settlement, he did not feel 
 the necessity of inspecting the document offered to his scrutiny 
 — but rashly and hastily affixed his name to it — impatient to 
 enter a chaise then waiting to convey him to Dover, and into 
 which he hastened with his future master in high spirits ; and 
 away went the fettered slave, without considering the weight 
 and quality of his chains, or how they were calculated to oppress 
 and gall him when in action. 
 
 The terms of this document, its pains and penalties, reduced my 
 husband to the very verge of frenzy when they were made clear 
 to him by his legal friend, whose judgment and advice in the 
 first instance, had not the secrecy been the basis of the negotia- 
 tion, must have preserved him from this enthralment. The ex- 
 tent of his imprudence and misfortune then reached his compre- 
 hension, and despair seized upon every faculty. It was in vain 
 that he had resolved on performing his duty to his employer — 
 he had not till now an idea of its extent. He knew he had re- 
 signed the greater part of his profits to another, but he had no 
 understanding of what was exacted besides. Indeed the clauses 
 that existed in this bond' were of the most extraordinary nature. 
 Ey one of them it was required that my husband should not only 
 work all the year round for Mr. Arnold, but be subservient to 
 his discretionary power to command him to go to any part of 
 
 * The proprietor of a large room at Worcester once wrote to Mr. Mathews 
 to come there and perform, and offered him his place and one-fifth of the 
 receipts for his performance. This application was almost too impudent, even 
 to laugh at. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 209 
 
 Great Britain, Ireland, or the Continent, he chose to specify, and 
 to exert his talents wheresoever, and in whatever manner, Mr. 
 Arnold conceived it expedient to his own interest to command 
 their exercise. In another part it was insisted that upon any 
 occasion of absence or failure of his expected performance, or 
 from whatever cause (personal illness excepted), Mr. Mathews 
 was on each and every omission to forfeit the sum of two hun- 
 dred pounds ; so that the inference was, that in the event of any 
 family affliction, the loss of wife, child, or any other calamity, it 
 was not to interfere with his duty to his master. 
 
 In short, the reading of the parchment acted like a stroke of 
 thunder upon my husband ; he had, as I have said, been suf- 
 fering from the effects of his unusual fatigue, and the reflections 
 which would obtrude, in spite of himself, upon his mistaken 
 estimate of his own strength with the public ; his conviction, 
 from his present suffering, that his laborious undertaking, pur- 
 sued too under such harassing control, without intermission, for 
 a series of years, v/ould seriously affect his health, and probably 
 cause him to leave his family unprovided for, before he was 
 allowed opportunity of exerting himself independently of his 
 duty to Mr. Arnold ; these considerations, added to the shock 
 of this iron manacle, of which he now felt the entire pressure for 
 the first time, caused a delirium to seize upon him, and he was 
 put to bed at a friend's house in town, utterly incapacitated from 
 all further thought or action. 
 
 On the first intimation of his situation and inability to per- 
 form, a medical gentleman, a stranger to us, called " from Mr. 
 Arnold, to examine into Mr. Mathews's state of health !" He 
 found my husband somewhat better as to bodily ailment, but in 
 that state of mental prostration, that it must have been clear to 
 the physician that his patient was quite unfitted for the required 
 task ; but his office was to pronounce whether bodily disease 
 was the cause of the non-performance of his engagement. Im- 
 mediately after his report, Mr. Arnold sent in a legal demand 
 for 200^., which demand was repeated on every occasion of 
 failure on the appointed night to appear at the English Opera 
 House. At these aggravating results of his position the delirium 
 returned ; in vain were Mr. Arnold's forfeitures — my poor hus- 
 band's mind was overthrown, and mine little less distracted. 
 Mr. Arnold at length, by my desire, came himself in order to 
 examine into the fact of my husband's disability to obey his 
 wishes, and he then saw the utter folly of expecting the sufferer 
 to return to his duties. Our friends gathered around us; a 
 
 P 
 
210 THE LIFE AND COKRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 party of them visited and conferred with Mr. Arnold, and 
 gradually induced him to admit the necessity as well as policy 
 of waiving in part the hard conditions of his bond ; for the 
 question was whether he should relax a little, and resign a part, 
 rather than by his tenacity destroy the whole of the golden 
 harvest he had sowed. My husband's friends were strenuously 
 persevering, and pointed out that, unless Mr. Arnold did some- 
 thing that would allow my husband to prosecute his duties with 
 a more tranquil feeling, it must end in the defeat of his own 
 hopes altogether. He was induced to listen to self-interest. 
 Certain conditions were then rescinded, others modified, and the 
 pecuniary severity of the agreement ameliorated. Mr. Arnold's 
 claims upon the personal exertions of my husband were confined 
 to London, leaving him the other months to work out his time 
 for his own exclusive profit in the provinces. 
 
 Another agreement was made out, in which their mutual 
 obligations were to be limited to seven seasons, Mr. Mathews 
 being at liberty, as I have said, to perform in the country at the 
 annual close of his London " At Home." This partial release, 
 when made clear, acted gradually and in a salutary manner upon 
 my husband's mind and returning health ; he was able to 
 resume his public duties soon after, and from that moment he 
 proceeded cheerfully and zealously to perform his undertaking. 
 Only a few intimate friends — those who had exerted themselves 
 to bring about this alleviation to his bondage, knew the real 
 cause of the interruption of his performance. Mr. Mathews 
 never met Mr. Arnold, or communicated with him during the 
 time of discontent, nor, I believe, did they ever, at any time 
 during their future knowledge of each other, revert to the 
 painful subject. My husband went steadily on without shrinking 
 from his task, or showing the least ill-will towards his task- 
 master. Neither was he ever known to obtrude his natural 
 regrets upon any one, that he had given up the best part of his 
 life to enrich another.* 
 
 * It has been suggested to me, since the publication of this -work, that I 
 ought to state the pecuniary conditions of this engagement (especially as, in 
 one instance, they have been misrepresented) ; I therefore add them for the 
 satisfaction of those who may find themselves interested in such particulars. 
 
 By the original bond, Mr. Arnold pledged himself to pay Mr. Mathews 
 lOOOL a year for life (liable to the deductions mentioned), on condition of Mr. 
 Mathews exerting his talents in any manner or place dictated by Mr. Arnold, 
 four times every week for seven years. An undertaking which, judging from 
 the first effects upon his health, and considering the constant and regular call 
 upon his strength exacted by his employer, all the year round, would probably 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 211 
 
 In a few weeks after these harassing struggles, my husband 
 found an occasional inconvenience that he had lately felt, aug- 
 mented to a most serious disorder, from which his eventual 
 sufferings were truly pitiable. I can only describe it by saying 
 that it showed itself in deep cracks across his tongue. Every 
 advice was sought and attended to ; but it baffled first-rate skill 
 and experience. It sometimes prevented him from eating, and 
 banished sleep, and had he not been resolute in the prosecution 
 of his duty, he must have declared it (as his medical men did) 
 impossible to use it professionally. Every word he uttered was 
 like a drop of aquafortis upon these cracks. It was distressing 
 to know his exertions under such torture — and, oh ! how painful 
 now to remember them. This complaint had in turn been pro- 
 nounced to be stomach and local fever, caused by anxiety and 
 his great professional exertions. Some days it was better, at 
 others worse, according to the use made of his voice ; but it was 
 always in a state which would have warranted him in declaring 
 acting too painful to be attempted ; still he persevered, and it 
 was heart-touching to witness his sufferings on his return home 
 from the exertion. On the days of performance he often found 
 it requisite to preserve a total silence until he began his " Enter- 
 tainment," when he described his sensations to be like what he 
 must be supposed to feel while talking and singing with a piece 
 of red-hot iron attached to his tongue. 
 
 have limited Mr. Arnold's responsibility to the term of his own receipts. 
 Assuredly Mr. Mathews always felt occasional rest indispensable from his un- 
 common exertions, and, but for such intervals, his constitution must have 
 failed much earlier than it did. 
 
 By the second agreement, Mr. Arnold took to himself the first forty pounds 
 of every night's receipt, after which he shared equally the remainder of it 
 with Mr. Mathews, who was required, out of the sum paid to him, to con- 
 tribute an equal part with Mr. Arnold, to the cost of authorship, dresses, 
 scenery, and other incidental expenses. 
 
 Mr. Arnold, it was calculated, made by this speculation thirty thousand 
 pounds, independently of after arrangements with Mr. Mathews, also of a 
 highly lucrative nature. 
 
 p2 
 
212 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONBENCE OF 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Journey to Liverpool — Incidents on the road — Letter to Mrs. Mathews — Eecep- 
 tion of Mr. Mathews by his friends at Swansea — Visit to Mr. and Mrs. Eolls 
 at Briton Ferry — Letters to Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 At the close of the first season of his "At Home," at the 
 English Opera House — the painful disorder in Mr. Mathews's 
 tongue heing in a slight degree alleviated — he again set forth 
 for the provinces, eager to remedj^ the past by continued exer- 
 tions throughout the hot weather, when he ought, in reason, to 
 have taken rest and recreation from the severe anxiety and toil 
 of his late engagement. He had, however, to pay the hard 
 penalty of the mistake he had committed, and he unhesitatingly 
 determined to forego personal ease to "atone," as he said, "to 
 his wife and child for having so rashly given away their rights." 
 His fault was more than expiated by the penance, even had it 
 been of a nature less pardonable — home and its comfort ex- 
 changed for every possible annoyance, and fatigue both of body 
 and mind, were surely punishment enough for much more than 
 is expressed by the words imprudent precipitancy. 
 
 One of his first letters, after he quitted London, will give 
 some idea of his wearisome pilgrimage, and his persevering and 
 even cheerful endurance of the ills he encountered in his way. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Liverpool, July 13th, 1818. 
 
 Here I am safely arrived, after one of the most uncomfortable 
 journeys I have ever encountered, at least from the time I parted with 
 Simpson. Lots of miseries ! 
 
 The first pleasing intelHgence we received was in a small town at 
 which we breakfasted on Saturday morning. The ostler, on looking at 
 our horse, observed, that he should almost have thought it was the 
 same horse that had been there the day before. On inquiry, he had 
 seen George ; and on the question being put to him as to what time he 
 passed through, &c., he replied, " Ah, sir, the young man had a shocking 
 accident ! The horse fell down with him ; he rolled over his head, and 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 213 
 
 he has cut the horse's knees sadly." At Stratford we found George 
 affecting the gay, and flattering himself that we should not examine 
 the horse. Our friend had, however, exaggerated the matter; for 
 though the horse had been down, the injury was very trifling. 
 
 We drove him on to Coventry that night ; got up early to be ready 
 by the Liverpool mail : at eight it arrived. Sent up to know if there 
 was a place — man returned — yes, sir, one place outside. Sent my port- 
 manteau, gobbled breakfast — presently saw man return with my port- 
 manteau — smelt a misery. Bookkeeper had just discovered that the 
 place had been promised to a gentleman the night before. No other 
 coach to Liverpool that day ; set off" on a mere scent of a coach to 
 Birmingham, per gig ; tired horse ; eighteen miles — drove very fast to 
 get there by twelve : heard there was no coach till four ; obliged to 
 make up my mind to go by that. Gobbled up my dinner to be ready 
 — went to the coach-office at four — told London coach was not come in, 
 and the other could not start till half an hour after its arrival ; went at 
 five — not arrived ; fidgets increased ; promised to arrive at nine next 
 morning. Did not believe that ; saw two hours fast adding to that — 
 anticipated alarm of Liverpool managers — rehearsal dismissed; at 
 last coach arrived, and at half-past six I was turned ofi". 
 
 I was told the coach was later by two hours than ever known — found 
 it was licensed to carry six inside, and travelled all night. Saw " two 
 women with a child a-piece" — took outside place — began to rain in ten 
 miles — forced to get in — I made the eighth ! One of the ladies was 
 told, "not on no account to expose the child to night air," — five months 
 old — sour milk in a bottle ! " One man did howl in his sleep," an 
 eccentricity allied, I suspect, to madness. I awoke once, and found the 
 windows close up. Eight inside — horrible, most horrible ! I was 
 stewed ; but it rained the whole night, and I was obliged to endure it. 
 I was compelled to have recourse to violent rage and ridicule, whenever 
 I, could address the guard, to get any air at all. 
 
 So, after all the pains and trouble to myself, horses, Simpson, &c., to 
 avoid travelling all night in the mail, I exchanged it for the heavy 
 Liverpool (a term I shall never forget), to travel all night with eight 
 people, and that the night before I perform ; however, it is all over, 
 thank Heaven ! and I am well. 
 
 I arrived at one o'clock, rehearsal over, of course ; but luckily, it is 
 the Manchester company who played with me in the same pieces when 
 I was last there. 
 
 A theatrical beggar waited on me before I had been here an hour; 
 and my never-tailing friend, Ryley, shortly afterwards, but in high 
 spirits. He performed here in the Music Hall on Saturday night, and 
 had a good receipt. 
 
 I begin to-night — Goldfinch and BusJcin. God bless you and my 
 dear boy. I can spy the house in which he was born from my sitting- 
 room window. Write soon. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
214 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Manchester, July 27tli, 1818. 
 
 I am very well in spite of my tongue, which is diseased to a frightful 
 extent ; and if it is not relieved shortly, I must lie by till something is 
 discovered to relieve me. I here to-day submitted to a leech in my 
 
 mouth, by advice of my beloved P , who is in higher feather than 
 
 ever. It was a most unpleasant operation ; but probably may be effica- 
 cious. My complaint " reminded" P of a " whimsical circum- 
 stance. Henderson — er er um — sore mouth — nehym ur — leeches — 
 glyd um — three instead of one — sy nyt num — according to Cocker — if 
 one does good — um er — how much will three do — er um er — put in 
 ersycern or vwog — bled for three days" — ha, ha, ha ! I am delighted 
 my explanation has opened your eyes. 
 
 You may rely upon it, the interest of yourself and dear Charles is 
 nearest to my heart; and that the object of my life will be to make 
 him independent, and if I am blessed with health, it can and shall be 
 done. 
 
 I had a great house last night at Liverpool, though the heat was near 
 spoiling all. I have not time for particulars. To-night 1 wrote to 
 Simpson, to ask him to meet me at Oxford, that we may arrange 
 matters there. I hope to be at home on Friday night. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 In the course of the autumn of this year (1818) Mr. Mathews 
 visited his Welsh friends, and performed at Swansea for the 
 first time since his early glories there. He was received in 
 public with almost tumultuous plaudits, and in private with the 
 glow of kindly hearts, whose recollection of him, after twenty 
 years' absence, was as fresh as if he had been the favourite of 
 yesterday with them. He was lucky enough to find among this 
 single-minded warm-hearted race several of his first friends 
 alive ; and the meeting was mutually gratifying. He remem- 
 bered how glad his youth had been made by the firesides of the 
 respectable people who had courted him then, a friendless 
 stranger ; and they were gratified that in his raised condition 
 he had retained a recollection so pleasing to them and honour- 
 able to himself. 
 
 We were at this time staying with our friends, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Bolls, at Briton Ferry — a spacious and beautiful mansion, the 
 scene of unbounded pleasure, and which better deserved to be 
 called happiness than any mode of living, on so large a scale, in 
 which I ever took a part. Mr. Mathews contrived to go over 
 to chat with his old friends at Swansea very often, and on one 
 occasion assembled them round a large table at the Mackworth 
 Arms, where he gave them a dinner, and rehearsed old scenes 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 215 
 
 again and again, till the eyes of his guests overflowed with tears 
 of delight. Even little Saddington, the prompter of Masterman's 
 company, the only theatrical remains of olden times upon the 
 spot, was not forgotten by " the great London actor," and on 
 his return to us at night the good-hearted entertainer was as 
 elated with the satisfaction he had given to the worthy people 
 as if he had been receiving honours instead of conferring 
 kindness. 
 
 In October, Mr. Mathews quitted Briton Ferry, leaving me 
 with our friends till his return from his engagements in Ireland, 
 his men of business, viz., Mr. Simpson his treasurer, and Mr. 
 Edward Knight his musician, having joined him at Swansea, 
 where the carriage and servants, &c., remained, for the purpose 
 of accompanying him on his voyage. 
 
216 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Mr. Mathews's second " At Home :" Trip to Paris — Description of that Enter- 
 tainment — His farewell address — Literary pirates — Ivy Cottage and the 
 picture gallery — Mr. Mathews in Scotland — Letters to Mrs. Mathews — The 
 methodist and the actor— Letters to Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 The period destined for a second attempt (no less hazardous than 
 the first) to keep an audience in attentive good humour for 
 nearly four hours by his single exertions, — if single that can be 
 appropriately called which is made up of so multifarious a 
 whole, — had now arrived. Accordingly on the 8th of March 
 Mr. Mathews was again " At Home," and related his " Trip to 
 Paris,"* with increased reputation, and performed a dramatic act, 
 called " La Diligence,"! with equal success. 
 The following was the announcement :— 
 
 The Public are respectfully informed, that having been abroad, they 
 will again find Mr. Mathews " At Home," in his old quarters, at the 
 Theatre Royal English Opera House, Strand, on Monday next, March 
 8th, 1819, when he will have the honour to perform his 
 
 TRIP TO PARIS in their company. 
 
 Paet Fiest. — Introduction. — Poetical Proem. — Recitation.— Tours; 
 why generally undertaken. — Piccadilly. — Lady Dory the Fishmonger. 
 — Sir Dogberry Dory gone to Paris. — Mr. Gossamer, junior, the Juvenile 
 Glover. — Mr. Gossamer, senior, gone to Paris. — Everybody gone to 
 Paris. 
 
 Song — Do as other folks do. 
 
 Recitation. — Leaders and Followers of Fashion. — Low Life or Vul- 
 garity : what is it ? and where does it exist ? 
 
 Song— PaW* is the only place. 
 
 Hecitation. — Why Mr. Mathews determined to go. — Dover Mail. — 
 Digression on Sleep (not long enough to provoke it). — Pleasant Travel- 
 ling Companions. — A voyage to Calais. 
 
 * By Mr. Poole. ' By Mr. James Smith. 
 
CHAELES MATHEWS. 217 
 
 Song — Delights of the Packet, 
 
 Part Second. — Recitation. — Safe Landed. — Jabber. — Surprise. — 
 A French Commissionaire. — Wonder. — Extraordinary Talent of French 
 Children. — Astonishment! a French Diligence. — Bathos: French 
 Posting. — Orthoepical Persecution ; or poor Mr. Rogers and Monsieur 
 Denise. — French Capital. — MeUrice's Hotel. — Hiring a Valet-de-Place. 
 — Anglo-Gallo-Hibernian. — Tuileries Gardens. — English Visitors. — 
 Crowds of Cockneys. — Characters. — Craniology. — Mnemonics. — Phy- 
 siognomy. — Mnemonics unexplained by Mr. Minikin. — Physiognomy 
 ill explained by the Widow Loquax. — Craniology fully explained by 
 
 Song — Lumps and Bumps. 
 
 JRecitation. — The Catacombs. — Lecture on Craniology, by the re- 
 nowned Doctor Von Dunderdronk Von Hoaxburg Von Puzzledorff Von 
 Chousehem. — Eeturn to the Hotel. 
 
 Song — A Day at Meurice's. 
 
 Paet Thied. — Recitortion. — Visit to the Theatre Fran^ais. — 
 Hamlet in Paris. — The Boulevards. — A Character. — Mundungus Trist. 
 —Miseries. — More Miseries. 
 
 Song — Seadsfor a Quarto ; or^ the Rains of Rleasuring. 
 
 Recitation. — The Scotch Lady. — An Old Acquaintance. — Short 
 Story about Something.— French Handbill in French English. — Lec- 
 ture on England and the English Language, by Mons. Charles Guil- 
 laume Denise. — De Charlatanville. 
 
 Song — The Departure ; or, Now Farewell to Paris Revels. 
 
 Part Fourth. — A Mono-poly-logue Descriptive of LA DILI- 
 GENCE. DiligencicB Persona : 
 
 Jemmy, an English Boots at the foreign office ? ivr lu 4^1 t 
 (a very old acquaintance) . . , , J Mr. Mathews . 
 
 Monsieur Peremptoire, a Travelling Tutor . Mr. Mathews ! ! 
 
 Monsieur Tommy Tarragon, his Infant Pupil, ) -^^ tit j.i- 1 1 » 
 a " Vox etplcBtereavAhiX" . . ^ ! P^' ^^*^^^« • ' ' 
 
 Samuel Starch, Esq., " a tailor made him" . Mr. Mathews ! ! ! ! 
 
 Hezekiah Hulk, a great Attorney of Size Lane Mr. Mathews ! ! ! ! ! 
 
 Miss Evelina Evergreen, an old Maid . . Mr. Mathews !!!!!! 
 
 And Monsieur Poudre Meneur, a French Pos- ) ^^ Mathews' " " " 
 tilion . . , , . . .3 
 
 The Songs will be accompanied on the Pianoforte by Mr. Knight. 
 
 Mr. Mathews closed his " At Home," on Saturday, the 5tli 
 of June, after a most splendid and successful season, on which 
 occasion he spoke the following Farewell Address : — 
 
 Ladies and Gentlemen, — The longest journey must have an end, and 
 the pleasanter our progress on the road, the more painful is the parting 
 
218 THE LIFE AND C0ERESP0ND;ENCE OF 
 
 with our fellow-travellers. Such is my feeling at this moment, when, 
 after travelling forty nights to and from Paris in your company, the 
 hour has at length arrived when I must reluctantly bid you farewell. 
 
 If I may be allowed to judge of the cordial smiles with which my 
 labours have been cheered tliroughout, I may venture to hope that you 
 participate in this feeling ; and I shall therefore solace myself, during 
 the interval of separation from my indulgent friends, with the pleasing 
 task of preparing to receive them " At Home" again next season, with, 
 new matter for their entertainment. 
 
 To this end I shall study new characters, and aim at new persona- 
 tions ; not with an unworthy view to outrage private feelings, by holding 
 up personal defects to ridicule, but with the more useful, and at the 
 same time less offensive object, of showing how easily peculiarities be- 
 come disagreeable if suffered to grow into habits ; and how frequently 
 habits, if so indulged in, may become ridiculous. 
 
 Such, with all humility, I consider to be the fair game of what is 
 attempted to be degraded by the name of mimicry. It is that in the 
 physical world which satire is in the moral ; and if the work of a satirist 
 of manners be not degraded by the appellation of a lampoon, I know not 
 why the exhibition of an imitator of manner should be classed with the 
 mere grimaces of a buffoon. 
 
 I have thought it necessarj'- to say thus much in defence of that which 
 I consider as the very soul of the profession of an actor — imitation ; for 
 no one, I presume, will deny, that Shakspeare would have written in 
 vain (so far as applies to stage representation) had actors attempted to 
 play Othello with a fair face, or Richard the Third without a hump. 
 
 Thus it appears there are cases in which even personal deformities 
 and defects may become proper subjects of satire. Such as the decre- 
 pitude of age affecting the follies and gay frivolities of youth ; the rich 
 and antiquated one-eyed lover ogling the young and beautiful victim of 
 an odious passioiv ; or a youthful coxcomb, with bandy legs, obtruding 
 his pitiable deformity on your notice by exhibiting his otherwise pretty 
 person in a quadrille. Such, in endless variety, are the fair and allowed 
 objects of imitative satire. Still, I may perhaps be acquitted from any 
 charge of vanity, when I assert, that even in such cases a more than 
 ordinary accuracy of observation is necessary to hit off successfully those 
 nice distinctions of character and manner which form the wide differ- 
 ence between a correct portrait and a vulgar caricature ; and if I have 
 succeeded, or can succeed (by holding the mirror up to Nature, and 
 showing Folly her own image^ and Vice its own deformity) in correcting 
 any one of a foolish habit, or an offensive peculiarity ; and, above all, 
 in affording the public a few hours of harmless mirth, I think my 
 labours amply rewarded, and that my life has not been altogether 
 passed, or my humble talents exerted, without some degree of use- 
 fulness. 
 
 Ladies and Gentlemen, — It now only remains for me to offer my 
 grateful acknowledgments for the liberal, indeed splendid patronage I 
 have received. So greatly has that patronage exceeded my hopes, that 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 219 
 
 I have to boast this season of having been honoured by the presence of 
 some thousands of visitors more than attended me last year ; and it is 
 this unlooked-for increase of public favour that not only encourages a 
 hope for the future, but stimulates every exertion of which I am capable, 
 to merit, if possible, a continuance of your valuable, and, believe me, 
 ever and highly valued kindness. 
 
 From the first year's "At Home" it was discovered that 
 spurious editions of the performances were sold at the doors of 
 the theatre ; and Mr. Mathews was annoyed by seeing them in 
 various parts of the theatre occasionally referred to by the 
 persons thus imposed upon. As the whole of the pretended 
 Entertainment was made up of the most contemptible trash 
 that could be conceived, he had the mortification of hearing of it 
 where the real performance was never heard ; and frequently 
 when on the stage he would find himself interrupted in a song 
 by persons turning over the leaves of these books in order to 
 trace in the words before them something resembling what they 
 listened to. It was in vain that a notice appeared nightly in 
 the bills, warning the visitors of the theatre that no printed 
 edition of the entertainments was geimine ; people did not read 
 this warning and the nuisance continued. At last, grown 
 bold by impunity, on the occasion of the " Trip to Paris," these 
 pirates ventured to take down in short-hand some of the real 
 matter. This afforded a tangible opportunity for stopping their 
 proceedings ; and Mr. Mathews, in order to give publicity to 
 the fact he had so often wished to impress, namely, that he 
 never had, nor ever would, print his "At Homes," applied for an 
 injunction to stop the sale of the pirated edition, which he 
 obtained, and which was thus announced in the newspapers. 
 
 On Saturday an injunction was obtained by Mr. Mathews in the 
 Vice-Chancellor's Court, to restrain John Buncombe, and Dean and 
 Munday, from selling any more copies of two works, purporting to be 
 parts of " The Trip to Paris" (written expressly for him by Mr. James 
 fcJmith and Mr. John Poole), as delivered by him at the English Opera 
 House. 
 
 In May we took possession of Ivy Cottage, which Mr. 
 Mathews had purchased on a lease of ninety-nine years; a term 
 which gave him time to look forward to much enjoyment of it. 
 We found it scarcely finished, and the grounds unformed. A 
 space near it was found for the addition of the Picture Grallery, 
 which was immediately planned and begun, and the shrubberies, 
 lawn, Eftid flower-garden laid out. 
 
 About this time Charles declared his predilection for architec- 
 
220 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 ture. So earnest was he in his desire to make it his profession, 
 that, after a great struggle, his father gave up his favourite wish 
 of placing him in the church ; and as it was necessary, under 
 this change of plan, that the hoy should immediately begin his 
 preparatory studies, the idea of college, where Mr. Richardson 
 had declared that he would acquire distinction, was relinquished, 
 and an agreement entered into with Mr. Pugin, the architectural 
 draughtsman (and the once scene painter in Wales, when Mr. 
 Nash and Mr. Mathews acted together), to take the young artist 
 for four years. 
 
 From this gentleman's design the Theatrical Picture Gallery 
 was now completed ; and no sooner had its owner formed this 
 new tie to the spot, where to him happiness alone existed, than 
 the very expense of maintaining it required his resignation of its 
 pleasures, and his duty compelled his absence from it. Therefore, 
 after he had satisfactorily placed his son in the only profession 
 for which he had ever manifested an inclination, Mr. Mathews 
 once more left home in pursuit of that bane of human life, and 
 antidote to some of its cares — money. The large sums recently 
 expended in raising the building I have mentioned, and in a 
 premium to Mr. Pugin on Charles's account, rendered present 
 exertions imperiously necessary to make up in some measure so 
 considerable an outlay, in addition to the original purchase and 
 furniture of the cottage, no mean amount in itself. Charles now 
 began his architectural studies, in furtherance of which he ac- 
 companied Mr Pugin to Paris. 
 
 In the autumn of this year, Mr. Mathews projected a pro- 
 fessional visit to Scotland, and broke ground at Edinburgh, 
 where he was received with acclamation. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Edinburgli, Oct. 20th, 1819. 
 
 I am going on famously here. I gave my Trip on Wednesday. It 
 would have done your heart good to hear the roars at the " Scotch - 
 woman," the success of which I rather doubted here. It is the greatest 
 hit I ever made anywhere in that part. Bless their goodnatured hearts ! 
 It was repeated on Thursday and last night (Friday). I netted the 
 last night about 1801. At the words " he was a vary goodnatured 
 body," which I hit happily, they gave me a thundering round of 
 applause, which swelled into a hurrah, and the cheering at the close 
 was delicious. To-morrow my benefit : all the boxes taken — the Trip 
 again. My week will give me 300/. 
 
 All the world are here. 'Tis the Musical Festival. I heardi a very 
 charming concert last night in the theatre. Braham, Miss Stephens, 
 Ambrogetti, Begrez, &c., and the instrumental part very perfect indeed. 
 
CHAKLES MATHEWS. 221 
 
 A curious circumstance : — I received a letter (which I will pVesei*ve) 
 from a Methodist preacher here, last week, to say he was a pastor of a 
 congregation who could not afford to purchase a Bible, and requesting 
 me to make a present of one ; and I have done so ! I made a condition 
 that the following inscription should be upon it : " The Gift of Charles 
 Mathews, Comedian." It is finished, and will be announced to the 
 elect next Sunday ! 
 
 Chaeles Mathgws. 
 
 In a subsequent letter he says : 
 
 I enclose you the letter of my Methodist correspondent. To-morrow 
 my Bible is to be sported in the pulpit, and the congregation informed 
 wiio gave it. 
 
 To C. Mathews, Usq» 
 
 Oct. 12th, 1819. 
 Deae Sie, — I hope you will pardon the liberty which I take in 
 writing to you. But the fact is this, I knew your father well, and 
 yourself some years ago heard me preach at the Adelphi Chapel, 
 London. I am an Englishman, and at present supplying a congre- 
 gation at Leith, most of them very poor people. We are in want of a 
 Bible for our pulpit ; and if you will have the goodness to present us 
 with one, I should esteem it a singular favour, and as long as I live 
 will bear you in my remembrance as a gentleman and a humane cha- 
 racter ; and I am sure my poor friends would esteem it a mark of the 
 greatest kindness. 
 
 I remain, dear Sir, your very humble and obedient servant, 
 
 Thomas Weston. 
 At Mr. Eose's, Syms' Dry Dock, Leith. 
 
 The following description of a distressing dilemma, which 
 occurred to him on tlje road to Dumfries, is at once a specimen 
 of the great inconvenience Mr. Mathews sometimes encountered, 
 and of the fortitude which on every important occasion he ex- 
 hibited. The fretfulness which, as he observes, " the loss of an 
 old slipper" would produce, never appeared under misfortunes of 
 a graver cast, — there he was really a philosopher. The only 
 occasion that I can remember under which his mental and phy- 
 sical faculties forsook him was in the overwhelming remorse he 
 felt at having so rashly destroyed, by his obligation to Mr. 
 Arnold, all future power to render those he loved independent of 
 the world, in the event of his quitting it before them ; an event 
 which, in the course of nature, might be supposed certain — alas ! 
 too certain. Let the painful drawback to personal exertion by 
 his lameness be remembered, and his determined activity will 
 add grace to his behaviour under such circumstances as the 
 following: : — 
 
222 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Dumfries, Nov. 19th, 1819. 
 Did you happen to think of me on Tuesday night, about seven 
 o'clock ! And did it happen to blow a hurricane at Highgate, as it did 
 in Dumfries-shire ? If you could by possibility have taken a peep at me 
 about that moment, or any one similarly situated who was even in- 
 different to you, you must have screamed at the sight. We had pro- 
 ceeded from Glasgow to within seven miles of Moffat, where we pro- 
 posed to stay for the night, on our way to this town. There had been 
 a deep snow of three hours' continuance, which was succeeded by a 
 most tremendous storm of wind and rain. Daw was lulled to sleep, 
 and I was thinking of you know who, and enjoying my home in 
 perspective, when I was roused from my reverie by frequent warnings 
 from our postilion, as I imagined, to some drivers of carts to keep on 
 their own side. Suddenly a tremendous concussion shook me directly, 
 off my seat, and threw me upon Daw, and in an instant the carriage 
 broke down. George literally shrieked ; and, on lifting his head from 
 under an umbrella, where he had crouched to protect himself from the 
 storm, felt it instantly ascend (not his head ! — the umbrella) with the 
 force of the wind, and found himself lying in the road before he could 
 account for the cause df his sudden removal. As the body of the 
 carriage lay upon the axletree, and the head was up, it was some time 
 before we could scramble out. My first thought was to discover the 
 cause of our misery; and I sent George after the carts — there were 
 about seven or eight without drivers !■ You may imagine our horrors. 
 The concussion was so forcible that the front spring was forced quite 
 out of its situation, two yards from the carriage, without being broken. 
 Every bolt that attached it to the axletree was completely broken off, 
 and there was apparently no possibility of its being moved from the 
 spot. We were holding a council, when two men came up to inquire 
 the nature of the damage. Luckily for myself, perhaps, I was not 
 aware that they were two of the scoundrels belonging to the carts, who 
 had been drinking whisky at a toll-bar about three hundred yards 
 further on. They pronounced that the carriage could not be moved till 
 repaired. Seven miles from any house but the toll-bar! — pouring, 
 blowing — standing up to our ankles in wet — a frightfully bleak and 
 mountainous country ! Imagine our despair. We were for a few 
 minutes unmanned and deprived of energy, and totally at a loss what 
 course to pursue. It was too dark to ascertain the extent of our 
 damage ; and, for the first time since we had been out, George had 
 forgot the candles for our lamps. I proposed (poor limp !) to run to 
 the toll-bar. The driver, finding his horses very fidgetty, proposed 
 taking them off, to prevent further mischief. In two minutes after, off 
 they set, full gallop, towards Moffat, he of course after them. Here we 
 were, deprived of his assistance. I reached the toll-bar, a mud hovel ; 
 inquired for ropes — not one, not even a bit of string. I gave a strong 
 hint to Toll-trap to afford some assistance to drag the carriage to the 
 gate. He had a friend with him, but neither offered to move. I 
 
CHAELES MATHEWS. 223 
 
 borrowed a lantern — three times, in my way to the carriage, the wind 
 blew out the light, and almost my breath too. Since our Irish voyage, 
 I have seen no such night. At last I reached the carriage; and found, 
 with four of us, all that could be hoped would be to get it to the toll- 
 bar. Daw propped up the body with his shoulder, I trundled the 
 wheel that had been deprived of its proper action by the removal of 
 the axletree, and George and the two rascals dragged the pole ; for, as 
 the horses were having a bit of fun by themselves, we had not their 
 assistance. After a good deal of labour we got it to the toll-house : by 
 this time we were soaked. The horses were at length caught and 
 brought back, looking very foolish. At last it was settled that I was 
 to ride one of the post-horses into Moffat, send a chaise with a smith, 
 and ropes and bolts, and bring back Daw, who was left in the wretched 
 hovel to wait its return, and guard the property. You may fancy my 
 ride : up mountains and down again — alternate sleet, snow, and 
 pouring rain — a stumbling old cart-horse, for he was no better. Oh, 
 that I could bear the removal or loss of an old slipper with the temper 
 I bore this misfortune ! Here I rose superior to Daw, who is one of 
 the cool tribe, and to George, one of the indifferent. At the top of a 
 hill one mile long, and equal to the steepest part of Highgate, a sudden 
 gust blew my horse out of his course. I was in spirits at having 
 escaped so well, and caught myself at my old resource — a child — and 
 cried, " Oh cry ! what fun !" and immediately burst out laughing at 
 the absurdity of my own ridiculous behaviour. I reached Moffat in 
 safety, drenched to the skin, and did not discover till I had arrived that 
 I had forgotten my hat, and had rode all the way in my cap which I put 
 on when the head of the carriage is up. I put on some clothes of the 
 landlord's (who is nearly the size of Wiggins), and, in an hour after my 
 arrival, was seated by a large fire, with a good beef-steak and some 
 whisky punch. Daw arrived at twelve, and the carriage, with George, 
 the smith, &c. at one o'clock. The coughs of the two poor victims with 
 me make me most thankful for my extraordinary constitution. Not 
 .the slightest inconvenience have I suffered. I am perfectly well, the 
 carriage is repaired, and all right but a pair of old boots that were 
 obliged to be cut off my legs with a knife — and Daw's umbrella, which 
 we suspect to be the one seen on the coast of Aberdeen, going towards 
 the coast of Holland. 
 
 Chaeles Mathews. 
 
 Burns died here. A very handsome mausoleum has been erected over 
 his remains, and a statue by Turnerelli. I called on his widow to-day, 
 and introduced myself to her. She received me with very good manners. 
 She is a comfortable body, in a very neat little house. All the family 
 are provided for. I saw the only portrait of him. 
 
 The following letter contains an account of another CFcape 
 which Mr. Mathews was destined to experience *' by flood and 
 field." 
 
224 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Liverpool, Nov. 29th, 1819. 
 
 I wish Daw and George may live out the journey. I am fated to 
 live with coughing subjects — two such victims ! What a fortunate 
 fellow I am ! another escape ! two indeed ! 
 
 There were great advantages held out to me in coming from White- 
 haven by water : — 140 miles by land — mountains of Cumberland almost 
 impassable in frosty weather — bad road — post horses scarce — only 
 eight hours' daylight — two long days on the road. By sea : — about 
 half-way — safe passage — constant traders — do it in twelve hours — 
 save ten pounds. It was agreed ! Daw always looking blank — Satur- 
 day morning, fair wind — Fishing smack hired on purpose — carriage 
 " pood aw to bits" — put on board — wretched-looking vessel — no cabin 
 or beds — deep fog came on — felt a horror — longed to say I won't go — 
 recollected Captain Skinner saying, " Never afraid of anything at sea 
 but a fog. However, desperate courage — made up my mind. Daw 
 was already seated, wrapped ap, looking like a melancholy watchman ; 
 I had just got the hand of a friend in mine, saying, "farewell!" and 
 was descending nineteen stone steps, from the pier into the vessel, with 
 a heavy heart, when crack went the foremast, and she broke off close to 
 the deck. The act of bawling up the foresail had finished this ricketty 
 mast. But for this providentially happening in the harbour, the vessel 
 must have gone at sea, and the consequence, if not fatal, would at all 
 events have been misery. 
 
 The carriage was unshipped. Started at twelve o'clock instead of 
 seven : we commenced our land journey, which, but for the escape, 
 would indeed have been miserable. Deep fog — roads like glass — horses 
 slipping, one foot forward, the other back — and a hundred and forty 
 miles before us. Still we were as merry as grigs : I did not know how 
 to contain my joy. " Please to remember the boat," was our watch- 
 word when any little misery occurred. We made, spite of all impedi- 
 ments, fifty-six miles that night, but almost starved to death. Yester- 
 day morning started at seven ; and going out of Burton, about ten 
 o'clock, down a hill, both horses fell, and the driver lay under them. 
 The first effect was terrific. We were all unhurt — carriage and all. 
 Other horses were procured, and another driver ; and, after a long, cold, 
 dreary journey, arrived here at ten last night, and were expected — 
 good fires, good beds, my old lodgings. All troubles and miseries 
 appear to be over. 
 
 Write in as good spirits as your last — it does me good. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Manchester, Dec. 7th, 1819. 
 I have just arrived here from Liverpool, where I stayed to do a good 
 action last night, and avoided a " misery" which poor Daw had all to 
 himself. I had sent him forward with the carriage; and, when within 
 
CHAELES MATHEWS. 225 
 
 a mile of Manchester, the tire of the hind wheel came off, and he was 
 about an hour doing the mile — as usual, in the dark and raining. 
 
 Poor old Ryley, penniless and melancholy as usual, was ready for me 
 on my arrival, and solicited me to do something for him after I had 
 finished at the Theatre. Incledon also arrived, and sang three songs. 
 So last night I did two acts of the " Mail Coach," and old " Trist"* 
 and Charley both exhibited, to the tune of lOOZ. in the Music Hall ; so 
 " the Itineranf't was in luck ! " God bless the good people of Liver- 
 pool." I sent off 2501. to Stephenson, instead of the two hundred I 
 promised to you. 
 
 And now, as I have got to dine and act to-night (for I could not 
 afford to lose a night by my charity, therefore stole it out of my lungs), 
 you must excuse my brevity. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 * One of the names he gave to Mr. Ryley; from whose peculiar temperament 
 he took the character so called. 
 
 t The title of Mr. Eyley's autobiography. 
 
226 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Mr. Mathews again "At Home" — Country cousins — Address to the audience 
 — Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd — Close of performance at English Opera 
 House, and Mr. Mathews's address — Mr. Mathews's visit to the provinces— 
 His letters to Mrs. Mathews — Lady Butler and Miss Ponsonby — Personifi- 
 cation of the late J. P. Curran — Letters of Mr. Mathews to Mrs. Mathews — 
 Sensitiveness of Mr. Mathews — Anecdote — Letters continued — Two impos- 
 tors — Mr. Mathews's proposal to erect a monument to Sbakspeare at Strat- 
 ford ; public meeting on the occasion — Intended ascent in a balloon. 
 
 The time now approached for his reappearance in London ; and 
 on the 28th of February, 1820, Mr. Mathews was again " At 
 Home," and again was equally successful. His " Country 
 Cousins," whom he now introduced, were welcomed to town 
 with a warmth which detained them there until the close of the 
 season in unabated favour, when they retired with the rest of the 
 London fashionables. The following was the announcement : — 
 
 The Public are respectfully informed that they will again find 
 MR. MATHEWS AT HOME 
 At the Theatre Royal English Opera House, Strand, on Monday next, 
 February 28th, 1820 ; when he will have the honour to commence his 
 Annual Course of Lectures on Character, Manners, and Peculiarities, 
 by introducing his Friends to his 
 
 COUNTRY COUSINS* 
 
 And the Sights of London. 
 
 Paet First. — London Cousins. — Country Cousins. — Yorkshire 
 Cousins (Mr. Mathews's). — Their Names and Descriptions. — Aunt 
 Agatha. — Her last Despatches from Whitby. 
 
 Song — Country Commissions. 
 
 Sudden Incursion of the Goths from the North, viz.. Aunt Agatha, 
 Cousin Dolly, Cousin Jerry, Uncle Baffin, with Zachary Flail their 
 Appendix. — Characters introduced: Sir Hubble Bubble and Doctor 
 Prolix.— Tale of a Tail. — Gas versus Oil. — St. Dunstan's Church. — A 
 
 * By James Smith, Esq. 
 
CHAELES MATHEWS. 227 
 
 Buck Attorney. — Wager of Battle. — Chapter Coflfee-house.— Loquacious 
 Waiter. 
 
 Song — WTiite Sorse Cellar, 
 
 Monsieur de Tourville. — Garrick and Wilkes. — Dr. Prolix's Tale of 
 a Head. — St. Paul's. — Queen Anne. — Bird Statuary. — Wren Architect. 
 — Verger and Reverberation. — Tremendous Notice from the Whispering 
 Gallery. — Bird's-eye View of London. 
 
 Song — O what a Town, what a wonderful Metropolis. 
 
 Panoramic Prospect. — St. James's Park. — Chelsea. — Greenwich.— 
 Palaces. — Hospitals. — Bow Church. — Newgate. — Fleet Prison. — Lin- 
 coln's Lin. — Alderman's Walk. — College of Physicians. — Bedlam.— 
 Winter Theatres. — Jerry's Digression. 
 
 ^oi\^— Epsom Races. 
 
 Paet Second. — Moulsey Hurst. — Pugilism. — Song: l^e Mill 
 {Anglice, A Fight). — Country Cousins. — Carried to the Monument. — 
 Cast Iron Southwark Bridge. — Catastrophes of Velocipedes. — Dr. Rum- 
 foozle and Mrs. Inicumpip. — Incipient Prosecutions. — Exhibition at 
 Somerset House. — Sir Hubble Bubble and the Hanging Committee. — 
 Zachary Flail's Disasters. — Mock Auctions. 
 
 Song — Zachary Flail's Description of London. 
 
 Panorama of the North Pole. — My Uncle's Bay, id est Baffin's Bay. 
 — Dr. Prolix on Nose Pulling. — Westminster Abbey. — Indictment at 
 .... Sessions : Rex versus Patrick O'Row. — Justice Metaphor. — 
 Counsellors Prim and Moonshine. — A Countess's Letter to a Comedian, 
 and his proposed Answer. — Invitation of the Country Cousins to a 
 Fashionable Rout. 
 
 Song — The Rout, or Lady Fidget at Home. 
 
 Failure of Gossamer and Goosetrap, Country Bankers. — Northern 
 Invasion subsides. — Goths driven back to Whitby. — Adieu to London. 
 
 Finale — Now Farewell to Bagatelle. 
 Paet Thied.— Exhibition of the Multiplication Table during a 
 Christmas at Brighton. — Solution of the Mysteries of Four Times Five, 
 by the juxtaposition of the following Figures, viz. 
 
 Alderman Huckaback, in the Chair (surfeited). 
 
 Tabitha, his Maiden Sister at the Table (studious). 
 
 Snap, one of the Livery. 
 
 Signor Canzonetti, Singing Master. 
 
 Miss Matilda Huckaback, his Pupil. 
 
 Molly Magog, a Patagonian Nurse. 
 
 Methusalem, a Youthful Watchman. 
 
 Dicky Gossip, a Posthumous Barber. 
 
 The whole being embodied and animated by Mr. Mathews. 
 
 The Pianoforte by Mr. E. Knight. 
 q2 
 
228 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 Mr. Mathews prefaced his new entertainment by the following 
 address : — 
 
 " Ladies and Gentlemen, — This being the third Season in which 
 I am gratified by appearing ' At Home' before you, I am naturally re- 
 minded of the renowned Whittington, who, as you all know, enjoyed the 
 delight of being thrice Lord Mayor of London. His fame was founded 
 on a lucky cat — mine on a lucky hit. It was his department to banish 
 mice, 'tis mine to banish melancholy. Why he was satisfied with being 
 merely thrice Lord Mayor of London we are not told ; perhaps the 
 accumulation of custard upon his stomach rendered him unfit for the 
 further fatigues of ofiiee. That — ecce signum ! — is not my case. 
 Neither will this, my third Election, satisfy an ambition that pants for 
 * Thrice again, to make up nine.' 
 
 It is therefore my intention, should I by your suffrages be re-elected to 
 this comic chair, so to conduct myself, as to drive all Blue Devils out 
 of the Strand from eight till eleven o'clock — to bind Seigh-ho over to 
 good behaviour — and to place Ha! Ha! Ha! those three graces of 
 speech, on that proud and palmy pinnacle to which their virtues and 
 talents authorize them to aspire. It is my intention during the present 
 evening to communicate the adventures which befel me in exhibiting 
 some of the Sights of London to my Country Cousins. 
 
 " Before I enter upon my task, permit me, however, to utter a few 
 words in explanation of the epithet 'imitation,' or, as it is sometimes 
 in carelessness, and sometimes in hostility, called ' mimicry.' I look 
 upon this talent when applied to the body, to be what satire is when 
 applied to the mind. 
 
 " If the satirist drags forth private and innocuous frailties to public 
 view, he sinks into a lampooner. If the imitator outrages private 
 feelings by holding up incurable and unpresuming personal defects to 
 public ridicule, he degenerates into a buffoon. It is my purpose to 
 evince, by general delineations, how easily peculiarities may be acquired 
 by negligence, and how difficult they are to eradicate when strengthened 
 by habit ; to show how often vanity and affectation steal upon the 
 deportment of youth, and how sure they are to make their possessor 
 ridiculous in after life; in short, to exemplify the old adage, that *No 
 man is contemptible for being what he is, but for pretending to be what 
 he is not.' 
 
 " Now, then, for my Cousins." 
 
 It will appear by the next letter that the Ettrick Shepherd* 
 had at one time some idea of contributing to Mr. Mathews's 
 " Entertainments." 
 
 * James Hogg, "the Ettrick Shepherd," writer and poet, born 1782. An 
 uneducated shepherd, with a taste for verse-making, and great good-fortune 
 in attracting the notice of Sir Walter Scott and many literary men of emi- 
 nence. His chief poetic work is " The Queen's Wake;" but his merits will 
 Dot be judged by posterity to be equal to the fame which he enjoyed in his 
 lifetime. He died in 1835. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 229 
 
 To Francis Anderson, Esq., Jun. 
 
 Altrive Lake, March 1st, 1820. 
 My deae Feank,— I have always looked upon Mrs. McKnight's 
 Original Stories as truly inimitable ;* and as soon as I got your letter, 
 I gave up the idea of being able to comply with your request, and very 
 stupidly ibrgot to answer you. You know how happy 1 am always to 
 oblige you, and there is nothing I would not try for such an ingenious 
 original as Mr. Mathews ; but truly and honestly I have little chance 
 of success. If I can produce aught that pleases me, I will send it ; 
 but do not harass me should it not arrive, for then be sure I have 
 failed. 
 
 I am yours ever, most affectionately, James Hogg. 
 
 On the 27th of June the season at the English Opera closed, 
 and Mr. Mathews made his farewell bow at the end of his third 
 campaign. The house was extremely well filled, and he con- 
 trived to keep it in a roar of laughter, as hearty and unrestrained 
 as on the first night of his attempt. At the close of his per- 
 formance he came forward, and thus addressed the audience : — 
 
 " Ladies and Gentlemen, — Thus I conclude the third season of 
 my entertainments, which, through your unexampled kindness and 
 patronage, I may boast of as having been pre-eminently successful. To 
 say that I am proud and grateful for the distinction you have conferred 
 on me, would be but faintly to express the warmth of those feelings 
 which animate me towards my benefactors. To have already drawn 
 together one hundred and twenty audiences, crowded by rank and 
 fashion, is no mean boast for an humble individual like myself; but 
 when I reflect that I may exclaim with the Roman hero, * Alone I 
 DID IT,' I confess I feel a glow of self-gratulation that my good fortune 
 prompted me to quit the long beaten path of the regular drama, to 
 adventure on so novel and hazardous an undertaking. 
 
 " It now only remains for me to assure you, that no exertions of 
 ingenuity, or labour of observation, shall be wanting to render my next 
 year's entertainment still more deserving of your favour than those 
 which have preceded it ; and I do trust to be enabled so far to vary its 
 nature as to present you with something new, not only in substance 
 and character, but in method and arrangement also. At all events, I 
 trust I shall not have exhausted in myself the happy faculty of exciting 
 your mirth, and I hope you will not have lost the inclination to come 
 here and be merry. 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen, with reiterated thanks, and the most cordial 
 good wishes, I now respectfully bid you farewell." 
 
 As he retired, the pit rose and greeted him with the waving 
 of hats, whilst loud cheers resounded from every part of the 
 house. 
 
 * la allusion to the Scotch Lady. 
 
230 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 The rigid determination of Mr. Mathews to lose no time in 
 the prosecution of his plan of atoning for past mistakes by per- 
 sonal sacrifice and labour, induced him again to form provincial 
 engagements, without allowing himself an interval of rest after 
 his fatiguing season. In pursuance of this resolution, therefore, 
 on the evening of his last night at the English Opera House, 
 he took leave of home, sleeping in town in order to begin his 
 journey thence the next morning at daybreak. His first letter, 
 merely a few lines scribbled at his first halt on the road, gave 
 me the following hurried notice of his concluding night's per- 
 formance : — 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Maidenhead, June 26th, 1820. 
 
 Arrived here not quite broiled. Just off again. Good house last 
 night; everything went well. Quite smooth in my address. The 
 Duke of Wellington was in a private box, and sent me a message at the 
 end of the first part, begging that I would be quick between the acts, 
 and that I would not mention his name.* 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Ludlow, July 6th, 1820. 
 
 This is the most beautiful town, I think, in England, in the most 
 luxuriant country. Here are two days' races. They have evening 
 races ; and the play does not begin till these are over. Last night I 
 began my work at ten o'clock ! At half-past nine not one person in 
 the house ; by ten it was full ; ay, 4f)l. ! and wonderful, too — such a 
 barn ! To-night I expect the same sort of thing. 
 
 I never heard of anything so hard or so unjust in my life as your 
 
 suffering from that fiend, Mrs. ; my blood boiled while I read 
 
 your account. For once my discernment has been superior to yours ; 
 I never could endure that woman. Pray write often, if only four lines, 
 for I have been long enough away to be very low, at times, and I have 
 been fidgety and uncomfortable all this day in consequence of the non- 
 arrival of the paper. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Evesham, July 20th, 1820. 
 I was travelling all day yesterday, and arrived here just as the mail 
 made its appearance for London. 
 
 I did wonders at Birmingham. What think you of 90?. in a room ? 
 
 * Not wishing a pointed recognition from the audience. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 231 
 
 This was Thursday. The common outcry was against Saturday for a 
 second performance, as it is pay-night, and the worst night in the 
 week : — " What a pity you can't play to-morrow ?" — " No ; impossible !" 
 — " Monday ?" — " Advertised at Cheltenham !" — " Well, it's a pity, 
 for I really would not advise you to play on Saturday : we are all in 
 our counting-houses till eleven." — " Never mind," said I, " I will try." I 
 did : 75 Z. Ha ! I have no doubt, no hesitation in pronouncing that this 
 was the greatest thing I ever accomplished, and shows that my new 
 name is greater than my old one, for my attraction had evidently ceased 
 when I was in Birmingham last. This completes my right reading, 
 4fOO^. in the month ; not clear, mind. 
 
 I have seen within these three or four days an extraordinary exhi- 
 bition ; four children all born in one day of one mother, all exactly 
 alike ; sixteen months old, and all hearty. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Oswestry, Sept. 4th, 1820. 
 
 The dear inseparable inimitables. Lady Butler and Miss Ponsonby, 
 were in the boxes here on Friday. They came twelve miles from Llan- 
 gollen, and returned, as they never sleep from home. Oh, such curi- 
 osities ! I was nearly convulsed. I could scarcely get on for the first 
 ten minutes after my eye caught them. Though I had never seen 
 them, I instantaneously knew them. As they are seated, there is not 
 one point to distinguish them from men : the dressing and powdering 
 of the hair ; their well-starched neckcloths ; the upper part of their 
 habits, which they always wear, even at a dinner-party, made precisely 
 like men's coats; and regular black beaver men's hats. They looked 
 exactly like two respectable superannuated old clergymen; one the 
 picture of Boruwiaski. I was highly flattered, as they never were in 
 the theatre before. 
 
 The packets now sail at seven in the morning ; all day-work instead 
 of night, which is delightful ; and the weather is heavenly. People 
 here are extremely hospitable; but, of all days in the year, Mr. 
 Ormsby Gore went to Carnarvon assizes (being high sheriff) the day 
 before 1 arrived. He only returned yesterday ; and almost forced me 
 away from the inn. I, however, could not conveniently go there, but 
 have been to call this morning. Such a place ! 
 
 By the by, have you any magnolias in the grounds ? if not, get me 
 one or two. I saw a Portugal laurel, only four years old, full half the 
 size of that great beauty at Lord Mansfield's ; pray have one or two of 
 them placed by themselves on our new lawn. 
 
 I have to-day received an invitation to call, if I have time as I pass, 
 at Llangollen, to receive in due form, from the dear old gentlemen called 
 Lady Butler and Miss Ponsonby, their thanks for the entertainment I 
 afforded them at the theatre. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
232 THE LIFE AND COREESPONDENCE OF 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Porkington, Oct. 24th. 
 
 Well, I have seen them, heard them, touched them. The pets, " the 
 ladies," as they are called, dined here yesterday — Lady Eleanor Butler 
 and Miss Ponsonby, the curiosities of Llangollen mentioned by Miss 
 Seward in her letters, about the year 1760. I mentioned to you in a 
 former letter the effect they produced upon me in public, but never 
 shall I forget the first burst yesterday upon entering the drawing-room, 
 to find the dear antediluvian darlings attired for dinner in the same 
 manified dress, with the .Croix de St. Louis, and other orders, and 
 myriads of large brooches, with stones large enough for snuflP-boxes, 
 stuck into their starched neckcloths ! I have not room to describe their 
 most fascinating persons. I have an invitation from them, which I 
 much fear I cannot accept. They returned home last night, fourteen 
 miles, after twelve o'clock. They have not slept one night from home 
 for above forty years. I longed to put Lady Eleanor under a bell-glass, 
 and bring her to Highgate for you to look at. To-morrow night I 
 give a night here to Stanton, a poor manager. On Thursday, Litch- 
 field ; Saturday, Cheltenham ; and then for home ; dear home, dear 
 Nancy and Charles ! 
 
 I really would advise building the wall, if you are clear we have a 
 right to build ; but if you are in any doubt, I shall be home about 
 Monday week ; but, again I say, do what you like. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 Mr. Mathews excessively disliked to be looked at. He would 
 make a circuit, lame as he was, through all the dirty windings 
 of London, or elsewhere, to escape the recognition of the better- 
 bred part of the population ; and, like a shying horse, he was 
 always on the look-out for objects of annoyance. In driving 
 about town he would generally keep the blinds down on his 
 side, and would push me forward in the carriage, as he said, " to 
 take off the stare from him." On all public (non-professional) 
 occasions he liked to have some noticeable person with him, to 
 attract the looks of strangers from him. If he heard his name 
 even whispered, his eyes would fall and his colour mount ; yet, 
 sometimes, if any person, in middle or low life, appeared to know 
 him, and discovered their knowledge by any indications that 
 seemed involuntary, a smile, or a leer, he would smile good- 
 humouredly in return and not feel annoyed at such notice, 
 though at the same time it made him look "sheepishly." Not 
 onl/ did he object to the gaze of strangers, hut any other per- 
 son looking fixedly at him, or any part of his dress, was equally 
 disagreeable to his feelings ; yet often, as if by a fatality, he had 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 233 
 
 something about him that seemed to invite the notice he dis- 
 hked. He constantly wore a miniature eye as a shirt-pin, which 
 naturally attracted the observation of people while they listened 
 to him. From the weight of its setting, it always appeared as 
 if it was in danger of falling out ; and when warned of the pro- 
 bability of this happening, he would hastily (and, as I knew, 
 impetuously) button up his waistcoat to hide it from further 
 remark. 
 
 A droll incident occurred to him after his visit to Sir Roger 
 Gresley. On the following day, having returned to his inn at 
 Litchtield, he was visited by one of the gentlemen whom 
 he had met the evening before. Mr. Mathews was always rest- 
 less and depressed on his days of performance. This was one of 
 them ; and he willingly would have dispensed with the company 
 of his new acquaintance. As the visit lengthened, he paced up 
 and down the room, from time to time, with some impatience. 
 The visitor, however, was immovable. At length conversation 
 began to flag. The restlessness of my husband increased, but 
 the gentleman seemed rooted to his chair. It was evident, too, 
 that while Mr. Mathews walked about, the eyes of the visitor 
 were directed to his feet. He thought that his lameness caused 
 this pointed notice, and sat down abruptly. Still the eyes gazed 
 with undiminished interest ; and no admirer of a Cinderella foot 
 ever appeared more fascinated than did this gentleman with those 
 of my poor husband. Again he started up ; again he walked 
 and talked. The gentleman answered, but seemed to grow ab- 
 sent. Still, however, his eyes " glared," as my husband angrily 
 termed it, at his feet. At last, quite unable any longer to en- 
 dure this persevering invesbigation of his pedal pecuharities, he 
 suddenly informed his visitor that he must excuse him, as he had 
 the business of the night to arrange. The gentleman again 
 looked anxiously at the feet' of the now really enraged owner of 
 them (who showed by his manner how much he was annoyed), 
 hesitated, and blushed ; but at last timidly observed, " Those 
 shoes of yours are very peculiar, Mr. Mathews?" A snappish 
 " Yes, sir," was all the reply of the wearer, whose anger was 
 increasing every instant. " I had, I think, a pair like them." — ■ 
 " Probably," was the only word jerked out in answer. " Indeed 
 I did not think a second pair was to be found of the same make." 
 My husband looked daggers as he observed his visitor's eyes 
 still riveted. upon his feet. "You, perhaps, remember," he con- 
 tinued, " where you bought them, Mr. Mathews j for I really 
 
234 THE LIFE AND COERESPONDENCE OF 
 
 shall be glad to get a pair readily ?" No reply was given to 
 this, but an impatient movement of said feet into another posi- 
 tion. At last, pressed to account for the manner in which he 
 procured these " admirable shoes," he cast his own eyes upon 
 them, and, to his surprise, perceived that they were not his own, 
 but, as the gentleman said, a " very peculiar pair," and much 
 too large for his very small feet. 
 
 The truth at once flashed across his mind : — " These shoes, 
 sir, perhaps, are yours ?" The owner of them, for such he was, 
 bowed, coloured, and said : " Why, Mr. Mathews, if you'll pardon 
 my thinking so, I must confess I beheve them to be mine. I 
 had them made after a plan of my own, for shooting-shoes, and 
 missed them this morning with great regret, my servant bring- 
 ing me a pair much too small for me ; and I suspect they would 
 better fit your feet than mine." The matter was clear; and they 
 both laughed heartily. The most extraordinary part of this 
 unconscious felony was, that the person wearing them did not 
 perceive the bad fit of the shoes, or find himself inconvenienced 
 with their weight, for the soles were embossed with nails ! 
 
 This incident amused him at the time ; and afterwards, when- 
 ever a " good starer" came in his way, the recollection of it had 
 the wholesome effect of making the stared at think of the stolen 
 shoes, and sometimes (if not on a performance day) smile, in- 
 stead of expressing annoyance, at any partial notice. 
 
 Sanguine as he was with regard to the continuance of his 
 popularity in his Entertainments at this early period, he would 
 have proved an absolute sceptic had any one assured him that 
 his reputation and success would proceed increasingly for four- 
 teen years after, and then only cease — with his life ! 
 
 Mr. Mathews had for some time past set his heart upon pro- 
 moting, by a public subscription, the erection of a monument to 
 Shakspeare in his native place ; and liis present visit there was 
 chiefly on this account. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Stratford, Dec. 19th, 1820. 
 I have just returned from the Town Hall. Would that thou eouldst 
 have seen me ! Unprepared, unarranged, I rushed before them : I 
 opened my plans, my proposals ; and, in an extempore speech, gained the 
 applauses of "Ladies and Gentlemen." L' affaire estfini. Two cler- 
 gymen (one of them Dr. Davenport, the vicar) joined their names to 
 mine as parties concerned. Subscriptions were immediately offered, a 
 committee formed, and the town half on fire already. Would you be- 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 235 
 
 lleve it, the first propitious circumstance on our arrival, the first thing 
 we heard, was, that the site of Shakspeare's house, New-place, where he 
 died, and where the mulberry- tree grew, is to be disposed of? I have 
 got myself into a notoriety that I did not seek or expect. I was voted 
 treasurer by acclamation ; and, when the meeting was over, a private 
 communication was made to me that the corporation wished to bestow 
 some mark of their favour upon me — would I like the freedom ? — in 
 short, " what was done for Garrick ought to be done for me." I de- 
 clined all notice till the affair, at all events, was completed. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 The following account of this meeting appeared at the 
 time : — 
 
 Agreeably to the suggestion of Mr. Mathews, a meeting of the inha- 
 bitants of Stratford-upon-Avon was held at the Town Hall, on the 19th 
 of December, 1820, to consider of the best mode of erecting, in the 
 form of a theatre, a national monument to the immortal memory of 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 Upon tliis occasion Captain Saunders took the chair. 
 
 Mr. Mathews stated, at considerable length, the object of calling the 
 meeting. It had long been a subject of regret to the literary and dra- 
 matic world, he observed, that a town so distinguished as the birthplace 
 of Shakspeare should not possess some token of national respect and 
 gratitude to such an immortal genius. In other towns similar instances 
 had occurred under far less imperative reasons. On the Calton-hill, 
 near Edinburgh, a monument had been erected to the memory of Hume 
 the historian ; at Dumfries a mausoleum had been raised by the inha- 
 bitants to commemorate their poet Burns. But the only tribute worthy 
 of notice to the memory of Shakspeare, was privately erected by Garrick, 
 in his own garden at Hampton. He was desirous of stating that, in 
 coming forward on the present occasion, he had anything but interested 
 views. He was ready to go hand and heart into the business : he would 
 apply personally to all he knew ; he would even endeavour, through the 
 medium of those most distinguished members of the Royal Family, who 
 had ever patronized the arts in general, and, above all, the drama, to 
 lay this proposition at the foot of the throne ; and he felt the fullest 
 confidence that our gracious monarch would give his patronage and 
 purse to the completion of this object. He would, moreover, exert what 
 influence he possessed with every man of rank and talent, every poet, 
 artist, and sculptor, whom he was fortunate enough to know, to aid this 
 important undertaking. He particularly impressed on their minds 
 that he did not wish at all to tax any person against his inclination or 
 means. It would be the proudest boast of any person's life to say, in 
 after times, when passing by this building, " Ay, I had a hand in that." 
 AH this he left entirely to their own ideas. But, above all, he begged 
 their strenuous and united exertions in a cause so important to the 
 literary and dramatic character of the whole country. 
 
236 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 It was resolved unanimously — 
 That Charles Mathews, Esq., be hereby appointed president and trea- 
 surer of the committees. 
 
 It was further resolved unanimously — 
 
 That a committee of management in London be formed under the 
 direction of Mr. Mathews, who shall have power to embody the same 
 and enlarge it ad libitum. 
 
 It is a very melancholy fact that Mr. Mathews was not origi- 
 nally altogether lame from his accident, as is evident from the 
 circumstance of his notice in the foregoing letter of his seven 
 miles' walk. Had he been satisfied with the partial cure which 
 had been effected, it would have been a great blessing to him 
 and to those who loved him ; but not finding his natural activity 
 entirely restored, he was restless and anxious about it, always 
 believing himself so nearly well as to feel he could not be far 
 removed from entire recovery. This feeling operated so con- 
 stantly that it induced many experiments, which ultimately 
 rendered it a painful effort to him to walk only a few yards. 
 
 In March of this year the following paragraph appeared in 
 the papers, the forerunner of many of a similar kind : — 
 
 It is reported that a gentleman of great comic celebrity in the 
 theatrical world is shortly to ascend in a balloon. Whether the object 
 be to satisfy a curious and inquiring mind — 
 
 To catch the manners living as they rise, 
 
 we know not; but must express our decided disapprobation of such a 
 hazardous undertaking ; which might be the means of depriving the 
 public of the gratification always received from his unrivalled talents. 
 Should this meet his eye, he will not think the worse of us for the 
 suggestion. 
 
 In explanation of this report, it is necessary to relate that 
 Mr. Mathews had long entertained a desire to ascend in a 
 balloon, and falling in with a person of the name of Livingstone, 
 who was speculating upon sending one up from London, Mr* 
 Mathews actually promised, under pain of a heavy penalty in 
 case of failure, to go up with him in the spring of this year. 
 Upon learning this, the idea immediately occurred to the 
 manager, Mr. Arnold, that such an event would give a pleasant 
 and popular subject and title to the next entertainment ; and 
 consequently every preparation was made in reference to the 
 expected adventure j but my consent was wanting. At first I 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 237 
 
 had only faintly opposed what I really conceived to be an inti- 
 mation made jestingly ; but, unluckily, this apparent indifference 
 about the undertaking induced my husband thus fearlessly to 
 bind himself. When, however, he came to town, and declared 
 his serious intention, and his positive agreement with Mr. 
 Livingstone, I urged him to give up the project at any loss, for 
 that I never could consent to what seemed to me so hazardous 
 an experiment. The consequence was that the design, after a 
 fruitless struggle to conquer my objections, was reluctantly 
 given up, and the fine paid (a considerable one), for the owner 
 of the balloon had great expectations of profit from so remark- 
 able an aeronaut. 
 
238 THE LIFE AND COKRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Announcement of Mr. Mathews's Adventures in Air, Earth, and Water — Account 
 of these Adventures — Address on the close of the fourth season of Mr. 
 Mathews's entertainments — Anecdotes of Mr. Coleridge and Mr. Charles 
 Lamb — Letter of Mr. Coleridge to Mr. Mathews. 
 
 The relinquisliment by Mr. Mathews of his design of ascending 
 in a balloon greatly disappointed public expectation, and frus- 
 trated in some measure the arrangements for the next " At 
 Home." The proprietor of the theatre, therefore, found it ex- 
 pedient, in the form of advertisements, to follow up the reports 
 of Mr. Mathews's intention by an affected and playful belief of 
 his ascent. Many ingenious intimations were to be seen, in the 
 papers and elsewhere, for a week or two previously to the re- 
 opening of the English Opera House, which served as announce- 
 ments of his 
 
 ADYENTUEES IN AIH, EARTH, AND WATER. 
 Found. — Me. Mathews. 
 
 Who (having been out of his element) will he found again at home 
 (for the 125th time), at the Theatre Royal, English Opera House, 
 Strand, this present Thursday, March 15th, 1821, when it is respect- 
 fully announced that he will have the honour to attempt a description 
 of his Travels in 
 
 AIR, EARTH, AND WATER! 
 
 Paet I. — AIR. — Ballooning. — Reasons for rising.— Professional 
 Opinions. — Friends in a Fever. — Mark Mirabel, the Wonderer. — Senti- 
 mental Reflections on Sailing. — Major Longbow, the modern Mun- 
 chausen. — White Lies. — Mr. and Mrs. Guffin. — Mrs. Damper, a Job's 
 Comforter. — Inquisitive Ladies. 
 
 Song — Air Ballooning. 
 
 Lady's Album. — Little Extracts from great Poets. — Autographs. — 
 Monsieur Arc en CieVs Essay on Ballooning ! — Odd Sensations on 
 quitting Terra Firma. — Putney Bridge and Wandsworth Common. — 
 Patience in a Punt. — Frightening Fish. — Cockney Sportsmen. 
 
 Song — The First of Sejptemher, 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 239 
 
 Ke-ascent. — Munchausen in Nuhihus. — Telescopic Observations.— i 
 Chinese Juggler. — Skein of Cotton Thread. — View of Margate.-^ 
 Speculations on Smoke. 
 
 Song — Steam-Boat. 
 
 Paet II. — EARTH. — Margate Pier. — Passengers per Steamer. 
 
 Song — Dejeune at St. Peters. 
 
 Paul Pinnacle, the Quality Tag, and Cutter of Commons — his System 
 shown up. 
 
 Song — Migh and S/umble, What a Jumble ! 
 
 Mr. Mathews's Code of Cuts. — Cut Celestial, Cut Infernal, Cut 
 Collateral, Cut Retrospective, and Cut Direct ! — Mr. and Mrs. Capsi- 
 cum. — Barnaby Thwack, the Donkey-Driver. — Danger of Non-aspi- 
 ration of an H. — Epitaphs in a Churchyard transplanted to an Album. 
 — Dissertation on Dress. — Lodgings to let. — Warm Reception in Close 
 Quarters. — An Attorney's Bill. — Catching a Native. — Tossing in a 
 Carpet. — Daniel O'Rourke — his Dream — his Visit to the Man in the 
 Moon. — Mr. Chick-cherry-clap, the Margate Librarian. 
 
 Song — The Margate Library, 
 
 Return Home. — Finale. 
 
 Part III.— WATER.— -Mr. Mathews will represent the Pleasures 
 of a Sea- voyage in 
 
 THE POLLY PACKET.* 
 
 Passengers per Polly : — 
 
 Mr. Theophilus Tulip, a novice on the ocean. 
 
 Mrs. Tulip, his maternal mamma. 
 
 Monsieur Jeu- Singe, French artist in dancing-dogs and monkeys. 
 
 Isaac Tabinet, a Jew merchant. 
 
 Major Longbow, ) ^^^onauts on their return. 
 
 Mr. Mathews, J 
 
 Daniel O'Rourke, Steward of the Polly, 
 
 Invisible Captain. 
 
 Poultry in the Hold. 
 
 N.B. — As three of the elements have already been intruded upon, in 
 order that the fourth may not feel aggrieved, it is necessary to state 
 that a good FIRE is constantly kept in the theatre. 
 
 The songs will be accompanied on the pianoforte by Mr. E. Knight 
 (Pupil to Mr. T. Cooke), who will perform favourite rondos between 
 the parts. 
 
 Of these Adventures, the following account is worth preserva- 
 tion ; — 
 
 • Written by R. B. Peake, Esci. 
 
240 THE LIFE AND COKRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 About the middle of March the dead walls of the metropolis dis- 
 played to the wondering gaze of passengers the following placard, in 
 letters of enormous size : — 
 
 " lOOOZ. Reward !— Charles Mathews, Esq. ! 
 
 " Whereas, it is said, that the above gentleman, actuated by a strange 
 propensity for rising in the world, left his home, at Highgate, perpen- 
 dicularly, on Saturday, in a balloon, and has not since been seen or 
 heard of. If this be fact, there can be no doubt (from his known 
 habits of punctuality) that he will be * At Home' at the English Opera 
 House on Thursday next, 15th March, when he will probably give the 
 account of his adventures in the air, &c. 
 
 " N.B. — If he will return to his disconsolate friends (the public), no 
 questions will be asked ; and he will, doubtless, in the course of the 
 season receive the above reward." 
 
 Much speculation was set on foot by the appearance of this adver- 
 tisement, and many of those good, easy, well-meaning persons, who 
 ' never look beyond the' surface of anything, read the " quiz" in solemn 
 sadness, commenting very profoundly upon the folly of the aeronaut in 
 {lius endangering his precious limbs. The theatre, however, was 
 crowded upon the appointed evening, and Mr. Mathews delighted the 
 audience with a novel entertainment. It opens with the descent of 
 Mathews upon the stage in a balloon ; when, taking out his watch, he 
 remarks, " He has, luckily, landed at the English Opera House just at 
 the hour appointed for commencing the performances." He then gives 
 his reason for undertaking the aerial excursion. " All his friends had 
 advised him to relinquish his * At Home,* assuring him that it was 
 utterly impossible to produce any novelty. He, however, was not to 
 be persuaded ; and having ' exhausted worlds,' determined to ' imagine 
 new,' by the assistance of a balloon." Various personages endeavour 
 to alter his resolution ; and the arguments they make use of are detailed 
 with exquisite humour. Among them is Mrs. Damper, a "Job's com- 
 forter," who, finding him resolved to persevere, details to him with 
 great exactness, the names of all those who have perished by falls from 
 balloons. He ascends ; and, after meeting with sundry adventures, 
 finds himself upon the banks of the Thames, at Wandsworth. He is 
 here joined by a Major Longbow, a modern Munchausen, whose cha- 
 racter is the tit-bit of the entertainment, and is certainly conceived and 
 sustained in most admirable style. It surpasses all that we principally 
 admired in the preceding entertainments j even the Old Scotch Lady 
 is not more humorous. This Major is everlastingly boasting of his 
 ** muscle," and telling outrageous and unblushing falsehoods, clenching 
 every one with the exclamation, " Upon my life, it's true ! What'll 
 you lay it's a lie?" There is also a Monsieur Arc en del, who 
 favours the company with a very learned dissertation on ballooning. 
 At Wandsworth the party meet with Patience in a punt, in the shape 
 of Mr. Job Twaddle, formerly an eminent hosier in Gutter-lane, M^ho 
 is a most persevering angler, and in the course of a fortnight had the 
 good fortune to meet with one nibble and one bite ! We never saw 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 241 
 
 anything more laughable and true to nature than the way In which 
 Mathews imitates the old gentleman's manner of examining his various 
 lines, and his desponding shake of the head when he finds he is not 
 likely to meet with any sport. Mr. Twaddle is a decided enemy to 
 steamboats, and upon being asked " Wherefore ?" replies, " They 
 frighten the fish !" He also dislikes bathing, because it " frightens the 
 fish!" And balloons likewise, for the same reason. Upon this, Xow^- 
 how says : — " I advise you, sir, never to show your face in the water." 
 "Why, so sir?" — "'Twill I'righten the fish. Upon my life it's true! 
 What'll you lay it's a lie ?" Certain cockney sportsmen now approach, 
 and a long burlesque account of their adventures occurs. Longhow 
 and Mathews now re-ascend, and the Major indulges in some of his 
 usual hyperboles, when the travellers arrive in sight of Margate ; and 
 the sight of the steam-packet induces a very happy caricature of the 
 humours of the vessel, in mingled recitation and singing. They then 
 descend, and thus finishes the first part. 
 
 Part II. commences with a description of the gaieties of Margate, 
 and a dejeuner at St. Peter's. Several of the visitors pass in review ; 
 amongst whom is a notorious dinner-hunter, or feaster at other people's 
 expense. " That man can drink a great deal ; can't he ?" says some 
 one. " Oh ! yes, any given quantity," ife the reply. After him come 
 Mr. and Mrs. Capsicum, vulgar citizens, and Paul Pinnacle, a 
 would-be fashicmable, who spends his life in courting the society of great 
 people, and thinks more about the House of Lords than he does of the 
 Lord's house. This character is very elaborately described, and is evi- 
 dently drawn from life. His directions for " cutting," though the idea 
 is not new, are highly diverting. In the next place, Mathews accom- 
 panies to the churchyard a young lady, who carries a magnificent 
 album, in which she collects autographs and epitaphs. Of the former 
 she has, among others, that of Sam Swob, the steersman of the steam- 
 packet ; and amongst the latter, the well-known lamentation, " Aflflic- 
 tions sore long time I bore," &c. She also has " An Original Poem, by 
 Lord Byron," commencing, " My name, d'ye see, 's Tom Tough, and 
 I've see a little sarvice ;" and some verses by Eogers, the first couplet 
 of which is — 
 
 " I am a brisk and sprightly lad, 
 Aad just come home from sea, sir 1" 
 
 On his return from the churchyard, Mathews meets with an old 
 acquaintance, in the form of Daniel OPowrke, who was introduced in 
 the " Trip to Paris." A whimsical detail of DanieVs adventures since 
 that period follows ; and the piece terminates with the picture of a 
 Margate library, and the embarkation on board the packet to return to 
 London. 
 
 Thus far all has been mere description ; but, in the third part, 
 Mathews again undertakes that rapid assumption of characters, in which 
 he is so perfectly unrivalled. The stage represents the cabin of the 
 packet, with the berths, holds, &c. In the first place he enters as 
 Daniel OPourke, who has obtained the situation of steward to tha 
 
242 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 Polly Packet. After rnuch laughable singing and soliloquizing, the 
 performer's powers of ventriloquism are called into service, and the 
 captain's voice is heard upon deck, calling ^or Daniel to "come aloft. 
 He ascends, and in a moment re-enters as Mrs. Tulip, a lusty sensitive 
 dame, who expresses much disgust at the inconvenience of the packet, 
 and alarm for the safety of her darling boy. After which she retires 
 to the ladies' apartment. She is succeeded by Major Longbow, who, 
 as usual, boasts of his " muscle !" tells the accustomed lies, and then 
 descends into the hold. After him comes Mons. Jeu- Singe, a French- 
 man, proprietor of an establishment for dancing dogs, who takes refuge 
 in one of the berths, and is followed by Isaac Tahinet, a Jewish 
 smuggler, by whom another of the berths is occupied. Master Theo- 
 philus Tulip, an overgrown spoiled urchin, now appears, crying loudly 
 for his " mamma," and labouring under the horrors of sea-sickness. He 
 also seeks a cot ; and has scarcely laid himself down, when Longbow 
 reascends from the hold. His " muscle," however, has failed him ; his 
 stomach, like Stephanos, is "not constant," and he is fain to have re- 
 course to his nightcap and pillow. Lastly, Mathews enters in his own 
 person, rallies the Major upon his fresh-water sickness, and ter- 
 minates his entertainment with a brief address of thanks to the 
 audience. 
 
 We will not pretend to say that the two first parts surpass those of 
 former seasons, because we think the wit of those performances cannot 
 well be exceeded ; but we assert, without reserve, that the concluding 
 part is much more admirable than that of the preceding year. 
 
 Mr. Mathews closed the fourth season of his entertainment 
 on the 14th of June. It maintained its wonted attraction even 
 to the close, the house not only being well but fashionably- 
 attended. At the termination of the night's performance Mr. 
 Mathews delivered the following farewell address : — 
 
 " Ladies and Gentlemen, — It has been said, and I believe truly, that 
 every man, however gifted with talents and enlightened by learning, has 
 some point in his character open to the attacks of flattery, and ac- 
 cessible to the assaults of vanity. To partake of this weakness, there- 
 fore, in common with the clever and the wise, can scarcely reflect 
 disgrace upon any one. Be this as it may, I freely acknowledge 
 myself, albeit neither learned nor wise, to be in the highest degree vain, 
 and to the greatest extent susceptible of flattery. The flattery of which 
 I speak is your undiminished approbation and applause; and the vanity 
 which I think so excusable as to make it my boast arises from the 
 belief, that no man by his own single exertions ever was so fortunate 
 as to excite the public notice and attention for so long a period as I 
 have had the happiness of exciting yours. This evening will close the 
 hundred and sixtieth performance ! in which I have alone stood before 
 you. I may therefore with truth assert, what few individuals can 
 assert so truly, that I have passed a hundred and sixty evenings with 
 anmixed pleasure j for I have seen nothing around me but cheerful 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 243 
 
 happy faces. If this world be indeed, as we are told it is, a world of 
 trouble and care, how gratified should he feel, who (for a few hours at 
 least) can banish those demons from the hearts of his friends ! Be- 
 lieving, as my vanity (pardonable vanity, I trust,) induces me to believe, 
 that I have been the happy means of accomplishing this desirable end, 
 I confess, my gratification will be unbounded and complete, provided 
 you allow me the pleasure of anticipating as cheerful a meeting next 
 year ; and, in the mean time accept, with gracious kindness, my heart- 
 felt thanks and most respectful farewell !'* 
 
 Our personal knowledge of Mr. Coleridge commenced in the 
 autumn of the year 1819, after our arrival in Kentish Town 
 (or, more properly, Highgate Hill), when he kindly claimed our 
 acquaintance in the quality of neighbour. 
 
 Many, many delightful hours did Mr. Coleridge's splendid 
 conversation give us and our friends. From his kind-heartedness, 
 his beautiful simplicity of manner (for his familiar thoughts and 
 expressions were as admirable as the higher attributes of his 
 vast mind) we really loved, as much as we admired him. My 
 flower-garden proved a very great attraction to him, and he 
 visited it very often, being passionately fond of flowers. As he 
 went he gathered them till his hands were full, repaying me for 
 these floral treasures with the costly gems which fell from his 
 mouth, as the pearls and diamonds were said to have poured 
 from the lips of the good fairy, in the child's tale. He doted 
 upon flowers, and discoursed so poetically upon them, that I 
 frequently regretted my want of power to preserve the many- 
 coloured beauties of his observations. He was so kind, too, 
 whenever kindness was valuable. In illness his manner partook 
 of the tender compassion of a woman ; his pity was almost 
 feminine. I remember on one occasion, after a long confinement, 
 his coming down the hill, one stormy and severe winter's night, 
 to cheer me with an entertaining book — some periodical just 
 published — and sitting with me and a friend who resided with 
 me, in my dressing-room, reading and commenting upon what 
 he read, until I forgot my indisposition. Indeed, 1 do not know 
 whether he was not a more charming companion when he 
 stooped his magnificent mind to the understanding of the less 
 informed and little gifted than when he conversed with higher 
 intellects. It is perhaps too bold an assertion, yet I will venture 
 to say that he was not less delightful by such condescensions of 
 his genius, or less esteemed for them. He was accordingly 
 attached to my husband, always writing and speaking of him as 
 *' dear Mathews," and he was equally partial to Charles, 
 
 e2 
 
24i4i THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 The simplicity of Mr. Coleridge's character on familiar occa- 
 sions gave us infinite amusement, which, on his perceiving it, he 
 allowed, with a smile against himself, while some charming 
 remark would increase our enjoyment, and he would leave us 
 Xvith his benevolent features beaming with good-humour and 
 kindness. One invariable result of his earnestly engaging in a 
 long subject of discourse was a total abstraction of mind suc- 
 ceeding to it. In our drawing-room we had placed a large 
 mirror, which reached from the ceiling to the floor, so inserted 
 (without any visible frame) as to seem a continuation of the 
 apartment. On taking leave, morning or night, he generally 
 made an effort to pass through this glass ; and it was our custom 
 always to watch his first movement of departure, in order to be 
 ready to guard against the consequences of an attempt to make 
 bis way out through this palpable impediment, and guide him 
 to the door. To all this he would submit, talking and laughing 
 upon the point which prevented his knowledge of outward 
 things, until the entrance-gate was closed upon him. 
 ' During the first part of our acquaintance with him, Mr. Cole- 
 ridge talked much to us of his friend " Charles Lamb," and 
 expressed a strong desire that we should know him. His affec- 
 tionate manner, when speaking of Mr. Lamb, interested us as 
 much for the man as for the writer, whose published works we 
 had read ; and it was at last arranged that we should dine on 
 the 5th of May in this year, at Mr. and Mrs. Gilman's (the 
 intellectual and excellent friends with whom Mr. Coleridge 
 resided), in order to meet this charming person and his amiable 
 sister. 
 
 On our reaching Mr. Gilman's house, we found Mr. Coleridge 
 anxiously waiting for Lamb's arrival, and as anxious that Mr. 
 Mathews should be pleased with his friend. Two notes by 
 *' Elia" were shown, which Mr. Mathews begged, as additions to 
 his collection of autographs of distinguished persons. The first 
 was addressed to Mr. Coleridge, in reply to his invitation for the 
 day in question. These notes are too characteristic of the writer 
 to be withheld.* 
 
 * In a volume of Mr. Coleridge's letters published after his death, one, 
 dated the 3rd of May, mentions this particular occasion in the following 
 words : — " We have a party to-morrow, in which, because we believed it would 
 interest you, you stood included. In addition to a neighbour, Robert Sutton, 
 and ourselves, there will be the Mathews (Mr. and Mrs.) j 'At Home' Mathews, 
 I mean, and Charles and Mary Lamb." 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 245 
 
 May 1st. 
 
 To 8. T, Coleridge, Esq, 
 
 Mr. Gilman's, Highgate. 
 D'. C. — I will not fail you on Friday by six, and Mary, perhaps, 
 earlier. I very much wish to meet "Master Mathew," and am much 
 obliged to the G — s for the opportunity. Our kind respects to them. 
 Always, Elia. 
 
 Extract from a MS. note of S. T. C. in my Beaumont and Fletchei*, 
 dated April 17^ 1807. 
 
 Midnight. 
 
 " God bless you, dear Charles Lamb, I am dying ; I feel I have not 
 many weeks left." 
 
 The second note was addressed — 
 
 To J. Oilman, Esq. 
 
 Surgeon, Highgate. 
 Dear Sir, — ^You dine so late on Friday, it will be impossible for us to 
 go home by the eight o'clock stage. Will you oblige us by securing 
 us beds at some house from which a stage goes to the Bank in the 
 morning ? I would write to Coleridge, but cannot think of troubling a 
 dying man with such a request. 
 
 Yours truly, C. Lamb. 
 
 If the beds in the town are all engaged, in consequence of Mr. 
 Mathews's appearance, a hackney-coach will serve. 
 WednesJ' 2 May, '21. 
 
 We shall neither of us come much before the time. 
 
 My husband, who was punctuality itself, and all the little 
 party, except the " Elia" and his sister, were assembled. At 
 last Mr. and Miss Lamb appeared, and Mr. Coleridge led his 
 friend up to my husband with a look which seemed to say, " I 
 pray you, like this fellow." Mr. Lamb's first approach was not 
 prepossessing. His figure was small and mean ; and no man cer* 
 tainly was ever less beholden to his tailor. His " bran" new suit 
 of black cloth (in which he affected several times during the day 
 to take great pride, and to cherish as a novelty that he had long 
 looked for and wanted) was drolly contrasted with his very 
 rusty silk stockings, shown from his knees, and his much too 
 large thick shoes, without polish. His shirt rejoiced in a wide 
 ill-plaited frill, and his very small, tight white neckcloth was 
 hemmed to a fine point at the ends that formed part of the 
 little bow. His hair was black and sleek, but not formal, and 
 his face the gravest I ever saw, but indicating great intellect, 
 
246 THE LIFE AND COERESPONDENCE OF 
 
 and resembling very much the portraits of King Charles I. 
 Mr. Coleridge was very anxious about his pet Lamb's first im- 
 pression upon my husband, which I believe his friend saw ; and 
 guessing that he had been extolled, he mischievously resolved to 
 thwart his panegyrist, disappoint the strangers, and altogether 
 to upset the suspected plan of showing him ofi*. The lamb, in 
 fact, would not consent to be made a lion of, and it followed 
 .that he became puerile and annoying all the day, to Mr. Cole- 
 ridge's visible mortification. Before dinner he was suspicious 
 and silent, as if he was taking measure of the man he came to 
 meet, and about whom he seemed very curious. Dinner, how- 
 ever, opened his lips for more than one purpose ; and the first 
 glass of wine set his spirit free, and he became quite impracti- 
 cable. He made the most absurd puns and ridiculous jokes, and 
 almost harassed Coleridge out of his self-complacency, though 
 he managed to maintain a tolerable degree of evenness with his 
 tormentor, now and then only rebuking him mildly for what 
 he termed " such unworthy trifling." This only served to 
 exasperate the perverse humour of him it was intended to 
 subdue ; and once Mr. Coleridge exclaimed meekly, after some 
 very bad joke, " Charles Lamb, I'm ashamed of you !" — a re- 
 proof which produced only an impatient " You be hanged !" 
 from the reproved, and another jest, " more potent than the 
 former," was superadded to his punning enormities. 
 
 Mr. Lamb's last fire, however, was at length expended, and 
 Mr. Coleridge took advantage of a pause to introduce some topic 
 that might divert the party from his friend's determined foolery. 
 He chose a subject which he deemed unlikely, if not impossible, 
 for Lamb to interrupt with a jest. Mr. Coleridge stated that 
 he had originally been intended for the pulpit, and had taken 
 orders — nay, had actually preached several times. At this 
 moment, fancying he saw something in Lamb's face that denoted 
 a lucid interval, and wishing to turn him back from the nonsense 
 which had so " spoiled the pleasure of the time," with a desire 
 also to conciliate the " pouting boy," as he seemed (who, to our 
 observation, was only waiting for an opportunity to revenge 
 himself upon his friend for all the grave checks he had given 
 to his jocular vein during dinner), Coleridge turned benignly 
 towards him, and observed — " Charles Lamb, I believe you 
 never heard me preach?" As if concentrating his pent-up re- 
 sentment and pique into one focus, and with less of his wonted 
 hesitation, Lamb replied, with great emphasis, " I ne-ever heard 
 you do anything else!" 
 
 ted I 
 
 ard 1 
 
 m 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 247 
 
 Our first day with the amiable "Elia" was certainly unlucky. 
 We knew him, however, better in after-time, and coveted and 
 loved his society as much as everybody did who had time given 
 them to know him ; but he " would have his humour." 
 
 One day Mr. Lamb told us the following story of himself: — 
 He was at one part of his life ordered to the sea-side for the 
 benefit of bathing; but not possessing strength of nerve suf- 
 ficient to throw himself into the water, he necessarily yielded 
 his small person up to the discretion of two men to " plunge 
 him." On the first morning, having prepared for immersion, 
 he placed himself, not without trepidation, between these huge 
 creatures, meaning to give the previously requisite instructions 
 which his particular case required ; but, from the very agitated 
 state he was in, from terror of what he might possibly " suffer" 
 from a " sea-change," his unfortunate impediment of speech 
 became greater than usual ; and this infirmity prevented his 
 directions being as prompt as was necessary. Standing, there- 
 fore, with a man at either elbow, he began : " I — I — I'm to be 
 di — i — ipped — " The men answered the instruction with a 
 ready " Yes, sir !" and in they soused him ! As soon as he 
 rose, and could regain a portion of his lost breath, he stam- 
 mered out as before, " I — I — I — I'm to be di — i — ipped — " 
 Another hearty "Yes, sir!" and down he went a second time. 
 Again he rose ; and then with a struggle (to which the men 
 were too much used on such occasions to heed), he made an 
 effort for freedom ; but not succeeding, he articulated as at first, 
 "I — I — I'm to be di — i — ipped — " "Yes, sir!" and to the bottom 
 he went again, when Lamb, rising for the third time to the 
 sui'face, shouted out in desperate energy, " — O — only once !" 
 
 To Mr. Mathews. 
 
 Extempore on rising from my seat at the close of " At Home," on 
 Saturday night : — 
 
 If, in whatever decks this earthly ball, 
 'Tis still great Mother Nature — one in all! 
 Hence Mathews needs must be her genuine son, 
 A second Nature, that acts all in one. 
 
 S. T. COLBRIDGE. 
 
 I have been reducing a few thoughts of my own, excited by my 
 Saturday night's feast, to some sort of shape in my own mind ; and, if 
 I should find courage enough to transfer them to paper for your 
 perusal, my principal, if not my sole object will be to rectify, or to 
 confirm my own judgment, by bringing it into contact with the touch- 
 stone of your observation and experience. I have seen enough of man- 
 
248 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 kind to feel little apprehension of offending you by sincerit3% for men 
 are tolerant of blame in proportion as they are secure of admiration ; 
 even if I had, as is not the case, found anything in your performance 
 to be censured. But I am not equally confident, that in some of my 
 notices, as to the order of excellence in the different parts of the per- 
 formance, considered independent of yourself, and even exclusive (and, 
 permit me to say, without suspicion of flattery, that this excludes the 
 very finest parts of the " At Home), I might not offend others, and 
 even give you pain as their friend. 
 
 I must therefore bargain, that, as I shall submit what I wrote to no 
 eye but yours, so you will consider the same in the light of a tete-a-tete 
 conversation, having this particular advantage, that you may listen to 
 it just at your leisure, or not at all. Be assured that I shall have 
 strangely perverted and misrepresented my own mind and feelings, if 
 you do not recognise in my remarks the unfeigned admiration and re- 
 gard with which I am. 
 
 Dear sir, your obliged S. T. Coleridge.* 
 
 My best respects to Mrs. Mathews and to your son. 
 
 * The remarks alluded to in the above letter, I regret to say, I have not 
 been able to find. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 249 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 Mr. Mathews's fondness for the society of foreigners —Naldi, Ambrogetti — A 
 new "At Home" — Mr. Mathews's performance in aid of a subscription for 
 the Irish Peasants — Letter from Mr. J. Wilson Ci'oker; portrait of Mrs. 
 Clive — Mr. Mathews's regret at his compact with Mr. Arnold — Causes of 
 the nervous excitability of Mr. Mathewg — Proposed engagement with Mr. 
 Price in America — Stipulations with Mr. Arnold — Mr. Mathews's address on 
 taking leave of the London public — Letters to Mr. Mathews from Mr. 
 Elliston and Mr. Macready — Mr. Mathews's performance at Carlton House 
 — rConversation with the King — His Majesty's anecdote of Mr. Kemble — 
 Royal munificence. 
 
 Mr husband was exceedingly fond of the society of foreigners ; 
 and it was noticeable that they were all great admirers of him, 
 in public and in private life ; they really loved him. Naldi was 
 particularly fond of his society ; and, though he understood 
 English imperfectly, seemed always to comprehend all he said. 
 "We were very intimate with Signor Naldi, who invariably ad. 
 dressed my husband, " Dear Mat-hew !" Naldi liked to talk 
 English, and was always encouraged in this liking by his friend, 
 who never failed, by his management, to elicit something 
 amusing from the practice. The Prince llegent had made him 
 a present of a snuff-box, in consequence of his singing before him 
 on some occasion. Naldi, who was a refined gentleman in all 
 his ideas, was gratified at this mode of receiving compensation, 
 and wished Mr. Mathews to understand that he was better 
 pleased with the present of the snuff-box (on the lid of which 
 appeared the royal donor's portrait) than he should have been 
 had the Prince given him a thousand pounds ! This sentiment 
 he conveyed to my husband the next time they met, in his own 
 peculiar way — " See, dear Mat-hew, dees boox, presente me from 
 de Kegent Prince ! If I am a tousand pounds I was not so 
 proud as dees boox !" 
 
 Ambrogetti's love and admiration had all the character of 
 infantine regard, and used to show itself most amusingly. His 
 English was even worse (or better) than Naldi's, for he had not 
 
250 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 mixed so much in English society as Naldi had done, neither 
 had he been so long in this country. One night, at a supper- 
 table, Ambrogetti was seated next my husband, who was much 
 diverted with his ardent admirer, and the childish delight he 
 exhibited at all Mr. Mathews said or did. My husband took 
 pleasure in exciting his droll expressions, and was surprising him 
 with all sorts of things. At last, Ambrogetti, wrought up to 
 the climax of his wonder, having previously exhausted every 
 known word with which he could express his rapture, cried out, 
 in a transport of delight, embracing him at the same moment, 
 " O, Mat-hew! you are my sweetheart /" 
 
 In March, 1822, Mr. Mathews reappeared at the EngUsh 
 Opera House, for the fifth season of his " At Home/' in a new 
 entertainment. 
 
 ME. MATHEWS AT HOME 
 at the Theatre Eoyal, English Opera House, Strand, on Mondays, 
 Thursdays, and Saturdays, during March, 1822, with his annual lecture 
 on Character, Manners, and Peculiarities, under the title of * 
 
 THE YOUTHFUL.DAYS OF MR. MATHEWS. 
 
 Paet I. — From nothing to the age of an hour and a quarter. — 
 " First the infant," &c.— Parentage. — rChildhood. — From One to Ten. 
 — '* Then the schoolboy with shining morning face." — Preparatory 
 Seminar3^ — Merchant Tailors' School. — PubHc Speeches. — Latin, Greek, 
 and English Orations. — Dramatic Mania of Master Charles Mathews. 
 •—Parental Objections. 
 
 Song— 2V«6?e Choosing. 
 
 From Ten to Fifteen.— Boxmdi Apprentice, Wil'KES, Chamberlain of 
 London. — First attempt as an Actor in Public. — Fencing. — Interview 
 with Macklin ; the Veteran's opinion of the qualifications of a Tra- 
 gedian. — Elopement from Home. — Fat Traveller. — Ap Llywelyn ap 
 Llwyd, Esq. — Mineral Waters. — Stratford upon Avon. — -Shakspeare's 
 Tomb. 
 
 Song — Marhet Day. 
 
 Engaged for the Dublin Theatre. — Careful Carter. — Ingenious 
 Porter. — First Appearance in Ireland. — Splendid Wardrobe. — Mr. 
 Mathers rufiled. — Old Huest.— Cox's Bull. — Dicky Suett's Letter 
 of Eecommendation. — Hibernian Friends, &c. &c. &c. 
 
 Song — An Irish JRuhher at Whist. 
 
 Part II. — Dublin Company. — George Augustus Fipley, of the Line 
 of Beauty. — Mr. Trombone. — O'Flanagan. — Geoege Feedeeick 
 Cooke. — Port Arms. 
 
 Song — Volunteer Field-day and Sham Fight. 
 Mr. CuEEAN {a portrait). 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 251 
 
 Real Irish Ballad — Croosheen Lawn. 
 
 Leave Dublin. — Visit Wales.-^Mr. Mathews engaged for the York 
 Circuit. — Interview with Tate Wilkinson, Esq., the wandering Pa- 
 tentee. — Buckle-brushing (Garrick's buckles). 
 
 Mr. Mathews's Mr. Wilkinson's Mr. Garrick's Richard. 
 
 Tate's Antipathies : — Rats ; Cross Letters. — York Roscius. — Over- 
 ture from London. — Mr. Mark Magnum. — " All that sort of thing," 
 and " Everything in the world." — Arrival in the Metropolis. 
 
 Song — London Green Rooms, 
 
 Pabt III. — Stories : in which Mr. Mathews will take steps to intro- 
 duce the following characters : — 
 
 Nat, Servant of All-work in a Lodging-house. 
 
 Sir Shiverum Screwnerve, Guardian to Amelrosa — {second jioor). 
 
 Monsieur Zephyr, French Ballet Master — {first Jloor). 
 
 George Augustus Fipley, "A Line of Beauty," — in love. 
 
 Ap Llywelyn ap Llwyd, Esq., Not Thin Enough. 
 
 Mr. Mark Magnum, non compos Lodger {next door). 
 
 Miss Amelrosa, in love with Fipley. 
 
 The songs will be accompanied on the piano-forte by Mr. E. Knight, 
 who will play favourite rondos between the parts. 
 
 Mr. Mathews gave his performance at the English Opera 
 House on the 21st May, for the purpose of aiding the subscrip- 
 tion for the Irish suHerers. In the course of the evening, in 
 that portion of the entertainment where he is enlarging on Irish 
 anecdote, he thus addressed the audience : — 
 
 " While upon the subject of Ireland, I am under the necessity of re- 
 gretting that my humble endeavour in . giving my entertainments in 
 aid of the liberal subscription for the. disti'essed peasantry of that 
 country, should not have proved to ni}' feeling quite successful. I wish 
 that there had been a fuller audience than I had ever seen at my nights 
 *At Home.' I should have sincerely desired, that it had been the best 
 house, instead of the worst, during the many evenings I have had the 
 honour of making you merry here. I am convinced that the public 
 will take the will for the deed ; and it gives me some gratification, that 
 though the numbers of the audience have unfortunately decreased, the 
 laughter has not in proportion diminished." 
 
 The following letter was written by Mr. Crolcer* a few days 
 
 * The Right Honourable John Wilson Croker, statesman, poet, and 
 quarterly reviewer, born 1780 ; educated at Dublin University, for which, and 
 originally for Downpatrick, he sat as Member of Parliament. He was one of 
 the earliest writers in the "Quarterly Review," a periodical to which he con- 
 tinued to contribute to his death. He was a bigoted Tory, a violent partisan, 
 and a most malevolent and unscrupulous critic. He died at his seat at West 
 Molesey, in 1857. 
 
252 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 after a visit to our cottage. He was kind enough, with many 
 others, to interest himself in my husband's hobby. Soon after 
 this intimation, Mr. Mathews discovered and bought the paint- 
 ing, by Hogarth, of Mrs. Olive, in the " Fine Lady in Lethe," 
 now in his collection at the Garrick Club : — 
 
 To C. Mathews, Esq. 
 
 Meluny, May 22nd, 1822. 
 Dear Sir — You may be glad to know that my recollection was cor- 
 rect, and that there is a portrait of Mrs. dive at Strawberry Hill, by 
 Davidson. There is also another in water-colours, of her, as " the fine 
 lady in Lethe." Perhaps this latter is the original of your engraving. 
 I presume that the portrait by Davidson must have been like, or her 
 friend, Mr. Walpole, would hardly have preserved it. 
 
 I am, dear sir, your faithful humble servant, J. W. Ceokee. 
 
 The uniform results of this seasoir's "At Home" proved that 
 Mr. Mathews's name was rising with each fresh occasion ; yet 
 he was not satisfied ; so tender was his conscience, that he 
 alwa^^s regarded his precipitancy in the compact with Mr. 
 Arnold as a crime against his family. It certainly was a great 
 mistake, and so far a culpable error that he proceeded in the 
 business without the knowledge of his best friends, who knew 
 his merits too well to have estimated them at his own modest 
 price. This mistake was, however, like every other he committed, 
 the result of an ardent temperament, relying more upon others 
 than himself ; quick, confiding, and sudden in his resolves, 
 sincere and liberal in his own motives, he was trusting, to a 
 weakness, in those of others. Yet, in looking back upon the 
 numerous instances of this generous infirmity (which, I own 
 with deep compunction, too much annoyed me at the time), it is 
 no small consolation to me, after more than two years'* constant 
 investigation of his character and conduct, to be unable to 
 detect in his whole life a single blot upon his integrity, or any 
 defect beyond what may be called a foible in his disposition. In 
 relation to that well-known, and too much dwelt upon, " irrita- 
 bihty" of temperament, which his death too well accounted for 
 and excused, it may be said that, with every outward appearance 
 of good, nay, robust health (after his twenty-fitth year, till 
 which period he had every symptom of a consumptive habit), 
 and with really a powerful frame, he was in a state of almost 
 contmuous bodily suffering from one cause or another, for the 
 most ][.art inexplicable to medical men. In winter his rest was 
 
 * These pages were ■written in the autumn of 1837. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 253 
 
 painfully disturbed at night by an irritation on the skin, though 
 without eruption, which allowed him no sleep for weeks together 
 during a frost ; he also suffered from a mysterious disorder in 
 his tongue, which for years equally puzzled the faculty, and 
 which, with all their precautionary efforts, " would come when it 
 would come." When we remember the many severe accidents 
 which befel him, and their consequences — that one, in particular, 
 which ever after kept him in a state of perpetual pain — without 
 enumerating any of those occasional and petty ills that " flesh is 
 heir to," or the vast call upon his mental resources and bodily 
 strength in his profession, the surprise at his liability to nervous 
 excitement will cease. 
 
 But I wander from my first intention, which was to explain 
 the compunctious visitings which ever and anon caused him to 
 brood over some plan for retrieving his circumstances, and for 
 atoning to his family and himself for what he had done. America 
 was suggested. But such a venture seemed to me nothing 
 short of the risk of life itself, and I steadily refused my consent 
 to his taking the voyage, as indeed I had done several years 
 before, when the "winter of his discontent" at Covent Garden 
 made him turn with eagerness to that land of hope. Fortunately 
 for Mr. Mathew^s's wishes, he became at this time intimately 
 acquainted with Mr. Price, the proprietor of the New York and 
 other principal theatres in America. Mr. Price's manner and 
 arguments ultimately inspired me with so much confidence in 
 the safety and success of the experiment, and gave me so com- 
 plete a reliance on his candour as well as judgment, that I re- 
 laxed gradually from my first rigid refusal, especially moved as I 
 was by his pledging himself to accompany my husband through 
 " flood and field " in his own country. This last consideration 
 won me totally from my previous objections and fears, and the 
 matter was settled so far as it could be, without the necessary 
 consent of his bond-holder. A visit to America at this time 
 seemed to be as favourable to Mr. Arnold's interest as to Mr. 
 Mathews's, for the next season's "At Home" threatened to be at 
 a stand-still for want of a subject. It was proposed, therefore, 
 by my husband to Mr. Arnold to leave his ground at the English 
 Opera fallow for one year, and to return the next, with materials 
 collected in America for a plentiful harvest. For Mr. Arnold's 
 consent to this reciprocal advantage, he offered to give him an 
 additional season when the present term of engagement should 
 have expired! This did not strike Mr. Ai-nold as sufticient 
 inducement for the risk he considered that he underwent ia 
 
254 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 resigning Mr. Mathews to such an experiment as the voyage 
 and the chmate to which he purposed to expose himself; and 
 finally, my husband agreed to an eiglith season, in addition to 
 the first term, and two thousand pounds besides in money I 
 which sum was to be paid to Mr. Arriold by several instalments 
 during my husband's absence. This was a fearful bargain, and 
 I remember thinking it almost as imprudent as the former. 
 However, my poor husband was sanguine in the extreme, and I 
 endeavoured to be satisfied and to " hope for the best," the 
 usual phrase resorted to when we feel sure of the worst. In 
 fact, I could not but consider such an exorbitant purchase of 
 twelve months' liberty as fatal to the end proposed — namely, 
 that of realizing a larger sura by the experiment than he could 
 gain in London. This great responsibility considered, it ap- 
 peared highly improbable that he could benefit by his toil and 
 risk further than in seeing a new race of human beings, from 
 whom to glean new characters for his next " At Home," and so 
 it proved. My husband, by concurring events, though bril- 
 liantly successful when he did act, lost part of his average 
 receipts by this voyage, and the first sum he forwarded to Eng- 
 land was to meet the first instalment due to Mr. Arnold. 
 
 All, however, was finally resolved upon, and in June, on the 
 last night of the season, he took leave of the London public in 
 the following address : — 
 
 Ladies and Gentlemen,-— My task of the evening being finished, it 
 now only remains for me to bidyou farewell. This is the last time for many 
 months to come, that I shall have the honour and pleasure of appearing 
 before you. I would lain make you merry at parting, but I feel it im- 
 possible to leave such kind friends, even for a time, without a sensation 
 here that prohibits an attempt at a mirthful leave-taking. That I may 
 not therefore throw the same cloud over you which at this moment 
 overshadows me, I will merely entreat that you will not forget me in 
 my absence, and believe that though the Atlantic must part us, it is 
 utterly impossible that I can ever forget how deeply I am indebted to 
 your flattering and unwearied patronage. I trust to be enabled to bring 
 back a new budget lor your amusement, and all my powers of observa- 
 tion shall be roused to their utmost to collect such materials in mj'- 
 travels as shall prove that I have not absented myself from your smiles 
 in vain. 
 
 As soon as the fact of Mr. Mathews's approaching departure 
 was known, he was gratified by many flattering expressions of 
 strong interest and regard. Among these he received the 
 following note from his school-fellow and early friend, Mr. 
 Elliston: — , . 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 255 
 
 To C. Mathews, Esq. 
 
 Stratford-plaoe, June 8th, 1822. 
 My deae Sir, — Do me the favour to let me have a small private 
 box, on one of the evenings of your performance in the ensuing week. 
 I wish to have my impression of your talents left fully on my mind 
 before your departure ; and you will bear with you to America ray 
 ardent wishes for j^our prosperity and safe return. 
 
 Yours, my dear Sir, very sincerely, E. W. Elliston. 
 
 To Mr. C. Mathews, 
 
 Berners-street, June 29tli, 1822. 
 
 My deab Mathews, — The want of opportunity to assure you, with 
 a plausible pretence for entering on so suspicious a subject (for such 
 assurances are either very worthless or very valuable), of my regard 
 and respect for you has for many months pressed more heavily on my 
 patience than I fear a sin would upon my conscience : I therefore leave 
 you to imagine from my past anxiety with what satisfaction I seize the 
 present occasion of expressing to you my regret that our adverse 
 destinies should have afforded me so few opportunities of cultivating 
 your friendship. As it will be long before we can meet again, I have 
 less hesitation than I otherwise might have in declaring to you without 
 the restraint of ceremony, whose language sincerity disowns, my cordial 
 regard and esteem for your character. While I offer you in plain 
 honesty the just tribute (if you think so humble a tribute worth 
 acceptance), 1 beg you will not take into the account my admiration of 
 your extraordinary talents, in the avowal of which my single voice 
 could not swell one note higher the loud and general chorus of praise 
 that attends upon you ; but I request you to believe that I am proud 
 and gratified in acknowledging the sentiments of attachment which the 
 noble and excellent qualities of your heart and mind have excited in 
 me; and in memorial of their truth, I beg leave to request your ac- 
 ceptance of the accompanying picture, which may derive, in your 
 opinion, that value from the artist's genius which the subject is 
 incapable of bestowing. 
 
 I am too well aware of my own tendency to prolixity to follow my 
 own wishes by prolonging my letter, and as I prefer even the cold 
 language of courtesy to that which may be construed as adulatory, I 
 will relieve you from farther tediousness, trusting your own warmth of 
 heart with the credit due to my assertion, that your success and happi- 
 ness in our own or more distant countries is equally interesting to me, 
 and that 
 
 I am, dear Mathews, your faithful friend, W. C. Macready. 
 
 A fine painting by Jackson, now in the Garrick Club, of Mr. 
 Macready in the dying scene of Henry IV., accompanied this 
 most gratifying and valued letter. 
 
256 THE LIFE AND CORKESPONDENCE OF 
 
 Previously to his going to America, Mr. Mathews was once 
 more commanded to revisit Carlton House, and perform his 
 " Youthful Days," where the same attentions as before and the 
 same gratifying results followed — nay, the same rooms (not the 
 dust and broom) were prepared for him. This performance, like 
 the former, was also to a select party. 
 
 Between the acts the King conversed with Mr. Mathews as 
 on the previous occasion, and commented with great judgment 
 upon all that he had done. He told him, however, that he 
 thought his imitation of Curran the least successful of any he 
 did. This at first surprised and disappointed Mr. Mathews, 
 until he recollected and suggested to his Majesty that his imita- 
 tion was given in Mr. Curran's public manner, which was widely 
 different from him at other times. The King observed, " True ; 
 I never heard him in public. I have only known him in private 
 life." Mr. Mathews then gave a specimen of Curran in society, 
 at which the King was delighted, and exclaimed, " 0, excellent ! 
 excellent, indeed ! I am glad I objected to what you first did, 
 for it has drawn forth the proof that your observation and povvers 
 are unerring. Your imitation is perfect — perfect." 
 
 The King then talked of Mr. Kemble, and said " Your 
 Kemble is excellent, whether on or off the stage. I used to 
 fancy my own imitation of him very true. I had a great 
 regard for Kemble ; he was my very good friend. I'll 
 suffer no one to speak a word against Kemble." The King 
 then remarked upon Mr. Kemble's correct pronunciation of 
 the English language, and the natural horror he felt at 
 any distortion of it. This led to my husband's relatinor a 
 story of the tragedian's correcting a servant one night at 
 Lord North's. The gentlemen staying later over their wine 
 than usual, a footman informed Mr. Kemble that " the carriage 
 was waiting, and that Mrs. Kemble had desired him to say she 
 had got the rheumatiz." After a minute's pause, Kemble 
 turned to the man, and, deliberately taking a pinch of snuff, 
 said, " Tell Mrs. Kemble that I'll come, and another time, sir, do 
 you say ' tism.'" The King laughed loudly at this anecdote, and 
 observed, " 0, it is so like him ! I can relate a story of the 
 same kind, which will prove that he could not abstain from such 
 corrections, whether it was a servant or a prince who offended 
 his nice ear. One evening, after he had dined with me, per- 
 ceiving, in the course of conversation, that Kemble carried his 
 finger round his snuff-box, evidently in distress at its emptiness, 
 I held out my own, silently inviting him to partake of its con- 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 257 
 
 tents, when he exclaimed, * Is it possible ! Does a prince offer 
 his box to a poor player ?' I replied, ' Yes ; and if you will take 
 a pinch from it you will much ohleege me.' Kemble paused for 
 a moment, then bowed stiffly, and, dipping his finger and thumb 
 into the box, replied, ' I accept your Royal Highness's offer 
 with gratitude ; but, if you can extend your royal jaws so wide, 
 pray, another time, say oblige.' And I did so ever after, 1 assure 
 you. Oh, I'm under vast obligations to my friend Kemble !"* 
 
 At the close of the evening the Prince graciously took leave 
 of my husband with much kindness of manner, and expressed a 
 wish that his approaching voyage might prove safe and pros- 
 perous. 
 
 It is, I believe, perfectly well known that Mr. Mathews never 
 accepted pecuniary advantage for any exercise of his talents 
 induced by friendly solicitation in private, or as a matter of 
 courtesy in the society of persons of rank. If he had chosen 
 thus to let himself out he might long ago have retired upon a 
 fortune so obtained ; but his gentlemanlike pride and inde- 
 pendent spirit precluded his receiving any remuneration for his 
 talents, except in the way of his profession. One instance of 
 royal munificence (not to be rejected by a subject), however, has 
 fallen in my way — the only one that has escaped destruction 
 from the monthly sacrifice made by my husband. This is so 
 agreeably expressed, and so characteristic of the royal kindness 
 from which it emanated, that I cannot resist inserting it here. 
 
 To C. Mathews, JEsq. 
 
 Mr. Eobt. Gray begs leave to inform Mr. Mathews that he has re- 
 ceived the King's commands for issuing one hundred guineas from the 
 privy purse, in token of the pleasure his Majesty had derived from Mr. 
 Mathews's superior excellency in the line of his profession ; which sum 
 will be most readily paid by Mr. Gray upon his being favoured with 
 Mr. Mathews's receipt for the amount. 
 
 Duchy of Cornwall, Somerset-place, 9th July, 1822. 
 
 * I remember another instance of the same kind. When Mr. Kemble acted 
 in York as "a star," staying in the house of Tate Wilkinson, Mr. Mathews 
 called there on some pretence, for the sake of being near the great actor. On 
 entering the room, Mr. Kemble was sitting at the further end of it, seemingly 
 absorbed in reading. Mrs. Wilkinson, a broad Yorkshire woman, inquired of 
 Mr. Mathews as he entered, whether he did not find the streets bad to walk 
 in, telling him that Mr. Kemble had been out, and had assured her they were 
 very slippy. Mr. Kemble, evidently ear-wounded by the word, slightly shook 
 his head, without any other movement, and, as if unconscious that his correc- 
 tion was audible, muttered, *'' Slippery — slippery — slippery J ^^ 
 
 S 
 
258 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 Mr. Mathews's departure for New York — His letters from America. 
 
 In August Mr. Price accompanied us to Liverpool, whence he 
 and my husband were to take their passage to New York. I 
 will pass over all the hopes and fears of this parting. The 
 travellers sailed, and Charles and I returned slowly and pensively 
 back to town, to await with intense anxiety the first letter 
 announcing Mr. Mathews's escape from the perils I so dreaded 
 to think upon. During the interim I had not been allowed to 
 read a newspaper. The first intelligence, therefore, of my husband 
 came from his own hand. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Hoboken, near New York, Sept. 6tli, 1822. 
 I have the pleasure of announcing to you my safe arrival in New 
 York harbour last night, after a most delightful passage of thirty-five 
 days. During the whole time I was not even qualmish for one moment. 
 So far from the most distant approximation to sickness, the effect of 
 the sea air produced only the most fierce and unconquerable craving 
 after food. In short hunger was my only disease. We had eleven 
 cabin passengers, — only one female, the captain's wife ; an old colonel 
 in the army of '69, a regular built Methodist, whether preacher or not 
 we could not discover ; five young Americans, who had been sent by 
 their relatives to improve themselves abroad, and who had been in Paris, 
 Italy, and England, and of course furnished ample materials for pleasant 
 conversation ; a Yorkshire cloth dealer ; and a strange compound mix- 
 ture of gentleman and blackguard, whose origin, connexions, and 
 profession remained a mystery to the last, but whose constant anxiety 
 seemed to proceed from the dread of being one moment sober, his unre- 
 mitting labour to keep himself equally intoxicated, and who was never 
 better than in a state of sober tipsiness, — yet the most violent feeling 
 which he excited was pity ; for he was never offensive or troublesome, 
 and submitted with the greatest good humour to the perpetual tricks 
 we played him. The Colonel, a mixture of Longhow and Pi'olix, was 
 a butt — the Methodist a victim. These, with cards, backgammon, 
 chess, and reading, filled up our time very agreeably. The weather was 
 delightful during the whole passage, not more than about two days' 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 259 
 
 rain, and never of long duration. We had two squalls only, of about 
 half an hour each ; one accompanied by a thunderstorm and tremendous 
 lightning, which gave me a tolerable specimen of what a gale might 
 be ; for a regular gale it was not allowed to be by those who had crossed 
 the Atlantic before. However, it was quite sufficient to satisfy my 
 ambition. The weather was intensely hot during the latter part of the 
 passage, and only admitted of dressing-gowns. I enjoyed invariable 
 health and spirits ; and was never better in health in my life than I 
 am at this moment. We were within three hundred miles of New York 
 on the twenty-seventh day ; and had the wind been fair, we might easily 
 have accomplished the passage in two days more, which, at this time of 
 the year, would have been accounted a quick passage. We were, how- 
 ever, becalmed three or four days in succession, and were eight days in 
 performing it. So much for my voyage and safe arrival. And now, 
 my dearest wife, I am arrived at a painful period, for 1 cannot conceal 
 from you that, from the moment of my arrival in the bay, I have suf- 
 fered a dreadful reverse of the cheerfulness I had hitherto enjoyed. 
 This, however, has arisen chiefly, indeed entirely, on your account. 
 Of course you must have heard, long before this will reach you, the news 
 which, when first communicated to me, shocked and appalled me — that 
 the yellow fever had made its appearance in New York.* The intelli- 
 gence was abruptly conveyed to us by a fisherman, who came alongside 
 in the bay, with the most ignorant and shameful exaggerations. You 
 may imagine my sensations — I cannot describe them: but quick as 
 lightning I thought of the effect the account of this calamity would 
 have upon you. If, within twenty miles of the spot, we should hear 
 the most absurd reports of facts so easily ascertained, how naturally 
 would they be magnified at the distance of three thousand ! Then, 
 again, the idea of your hearing it a month at least before I could have 
 an opportunity of giving you any consolation on the subject, agitated 
 and distressed me beyond measure. These were my first and most 
 painful impressions. For my own part, I am now as completely satis- 
 fied that ho danger exists, as I am that you are free from it at Highgate, 
 or that the pens I am writing with are a great torment. For God's 
 si^ke, my dearest wife, calm your agitation if you have not heard the 
 truth ; though even that I am sensible will make you wretched. Re- 
 ceive this assurance from me, that on my most sacred word of honour, 
 the danger is past ; after six weeks' sickness and alarm, the Board of 
 Health reported yesterday only two cases, both doubtful, and these in a 
 population of one hundred and thirty thousand souls. This is the third 
 visitation in nineteen years. The disease is confined to one part of the 
 city, called the infected district; and no one case has occurred out of 
 those bounds. The magistrates have caused all the inhabitants of this 
 district to remove and shut up their houses ; and fences have been 
 erected across the streets to prevent all communication. By this 
 
 * This I had not heard, thanks to the watchful kindness of some friends, 
 who had contrived, with the connivance of my servants, to keep every news- 
 paper and other reports of tlie calamity from my knowledge. 
 
 S 2 
 
1260 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 means the progress of the fever has been stopped ; and though a great 
 panic has been struck, and numbers have fled, yet I understand, from, 
 every person I have seen, that in those parts of the city which are 
 declared healthy, business goes on as cheerfully as before, and no alarm 
 is felt. The Board of Health publish reports daily. Price went on 
 shore last night ; I remained on board ; and all but three of us followed 
 Price's example. They came to us again this morning, and declared all 
 danger past. However, I resolved not to enter the city until all the 
 inhabitants are again settled and perfect health restored. I am laughed 
 at for my fears ; but I owe it to you and dear Charles to avoid all pos- 
 sibility of risk. This morning, therefore, I crossed the river in a steam- 
 boat, to the most romantic and beautiful village, whence I date this, 
 and luckily found a lodging in a detached house. I then went back to 
 the vessel, and here George and I are snug from all alarm and danger.* 
 We have an arm of the sea, about four miles across, between us and 
 the most healthy part of New York, and seven from the diseased dis- 
 trict. The theatre opened on Monday ; but I rather think I shall go 
 to Boston or Philadelphia, and defer my performance here ; for every 
 other town in the United States is free from disease. As I must 
 despatch this to-morrow, I cannot possibly speak decisively until my 
 next letter, which will leave this on the 16th ; but be assured that no 
 power or persuasion shall induce me to go near New York until I can 
 go with that kind of confidence that would induce you to give me your 
 consent. Pray be cautious to shut your ears against all reports, — 
 mine is Gazette authority; beware of newspapers. The fisherman, 
 reported that one hundred and forty had died in twenty-four hours, 
 and that no one had recovered who had sickened ; and he lives only 
 •twenty-five miles from the cit3\ Here, from the bills of mortality, and 
 the official returns of those who dare not deceive, 1 have ascertained, 
 that in six weeks only eighty persons have died out of one hundred and 
 thirteen thousand, and not fifty of them of the fever, and that numbers 
 have recovered who had been infected. The first frosty night entirely 
 eradicates it, which is pretty sure to occur in September, anH it never 
 makes its appearance after that month. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Philadelphia, Sept. 12th, 1822. 
 
 I have the pleasure to inform you, that I have made an arrangement 
 by which I avoid New York altogether until November, and thereby 
 keep entirely clear of the remotest possibility of danger. All other 
 parts of the United States are healthy. On Sunday last I received a 
 summons from Price, to follow him to Bristol, seventy miles from New 
 York. I arrived there on Monday evening, and found him at Cooper's j 
 
 * George, his servant. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 261 
 
 house,* where I was made very welcome. He is away until next 
 Saturday ; but Mrs. Cooper and Mrs. Price made me very comfortable. 
 They are both very charming women. Cooper's house is after my own 
 heart, delightfully situated on the banks of the Delaware. If 1 were 
 not a salamander I should, for once, confess that the sun could be hot 
 enough for me. The Americans, " unto the manner born," are astonished 
 at my bearing the climate so well. The thermometer is to-day ninety 
 degrees, and not a puff of air. They are all panting ; but I am not at 
 all distressed, excepting in the night, and then I suffer. It is not 
 possible to bear the least covering. The mosquitoes have not yet 
 attacked me, therefore I think I shall escape, as I do at home, with 
 your enemies the gnats. Price came down this morning mad. He 
 declared that two millions of mosquitoes had kept him awake all night. 
 We arrived here on Wednesday, per steamboat, twenty miles in two 
 hours and a half. The manager of the theatre had sent an offer to me, 
 and I therefore came over here to meet him, as the conveyance is so 
 pleasant. A new and beautiful theatre is nearly finished here, in place 
 of the old one destroyed by fire. I have made an engagement to play 
 at Baltimore, under the same manager. In a few days I shall com- 
 mence, but to-morrow return to Bristol, to spend a few days with 
 Cooper previously to my journey. Baltimore is a hundred and twenty 
 miles hence. I shall be able to announce my arrival, and further 
 particulars, by the next packet. Hitherto I am so much in amazement 
 lost, that I dare not trust myself to give an opinion of the people, or 
 venture to say whether I like or dislike them. It appears to me, that 
 the lower orders must necessarily prevent a European from being com- 
 fortable, if he has not made up his mind very resolutely to look on, 
 laugh, and thoroughly despise. If this be the effect of a republican 
 form of government, give me a monarch, even if he be a despot. For 
 a specimen : — I had taken a jaunt in a steamboat with a fellow- 
 passenger to New Brunswick; but, a wretched inn, an independent 
 landlord, who took a chair and sat down while we were at breakfast, 
 with his hat on, hospital beds, &c., drove us away on Sunday morning 
 to Elizabeth Town, fifteen miles on our road back to Hoboken. There 
 are no post-chaises here, nor any mode of travelling but steam or stage- 
 coaches, excepting occasionally an innkeeeper happens to have a carriage. 
 This was the case at Brunswick, and we were forwarded to Elizabeth 
 Town. When we drove up to the door no soul came out to greet us, 
 though the landlord and waiter were sitting in the hall cheek by jowl, 
 see sawing upon chairs — a favourite mode here. We entered the house 
 and passed them. At length we ascertained which was mine host. He 
 shook us both by the hand, and said to each, " How d'ye do ? I have 
 s6en you before?" "Can we have beds here?" "I guess you can." 
 At night I. was stretched on a wretched straw mattrass, but was awoke 
 at four o'clock, before daylight, by mine host, who said he had a letter 
 
 * Mr. Cooper, the American tragedian, with whom we had had such friendly 
 intimacy at Liverpool in 1804, 
 
262 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 for me. You may judge of my amazement, for I was confident when I 
 went to bed that the fellow did not know my name ; however, he had 
 guessed, and found me out. The letter proved to be from Price, who 
 had sent a carriage to Brunswick for me, having heard that I was 
 there. The driver came on in the mail to Elizabeth Town, and, on 
 arrival, Boniface would call me up. 
 
 When I got up I agreed to go to Price, in the machine in which I 
 came, which had rested there all night. When I was ready, the driver 
 said to the one who had been despatched for me, " Will you go inside 
 or out ?" and the fellow, with a segar in his mouth, actually hesitated 
 whether he should sit by my side or the driver's. In short, all the 
 Whites of the order are born blackguards, and the Blacks, scent per 
 cent, above them in being genteel — a favourite word here. The driver 
 took up a book that I had laid down on the seat, and began to read in 
 it, without the least symptom of apology. There is not the slightest 
 show of civility with them ; a bow or a touch of the hat I have not 
 seen once, or heard the words " thank ye" once used upon payment. 
 As to the higher order, for there are but two, what I can gather from a 
 party with whom I dined yesterday is, that they differ but little from 
 the English in either manner or customs. They are natural, easy, and 
 polite ; and you will not dislike them from hearing that they are m(Jst 
 anxious to show me great attention. About twelve of the first people 
 in Philadelphia gave me a splendid dinner yesterday on my arrival, 
 though I had left my letters of introduction at New York. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Baltimore, Sept. 28th, 1822. 
 
 T arrived here on Saturday morning last, and made my dehut on the 
 American stage on Monday, Sept. 23, with the " Trip to Paris." 
 Nothing could be more enthusiastic and cheering than my reception. I 
 Was a little embarrassed at first, as I always am, at great applause : it 
 affected me, and with diflSculty I made my exordium. The first song, 
 you know, is not calculated for great eflfect ; and deep attention was all 
 my repayment for some minutes after my commencement. When I 
 came to the ballad-singer and his pupil, " London now is out of Town," 
 which is their own national air, I looked upon my business as done in 
 America. They roared and screeched as if they had never heard any- 
 thing comical before ; and I don't think they have been glutted in that 
 way. 
 
 I discovered the never-to be-mistaken token of pocket handkerchiefs 
 crammed into the mouths of man}^ of the pittites. I had only to hold 
 up my crooked finger when I wanted them to laugh, and they obeyed 
 my call. I was most agreeably surprised, indeed, at finding them an 
 audience of infinite!}'' more intelligence and quickness than I had 
 expected. Bartley had shrugged his shoulders at the idea of their 
 taking the jokes. One of the London papers said I should be lost 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 263 
 
 here ; and most people supposed that I should find them dull ; and so 
 they are in private, I suspect — tarnation heavy and grave, but not so 
 in the theatre. The neatest and best points were never better appre- 
 ciated, even in London ; and I am quite certain from the effects, that 
 the French language is much more generally understood here than in 
 England. They have a much larger proportion of French people, for 
 the size of their towjis, than we have, and every bit of broken English 
 is a sure hit. 
 
 I repeated the " Trip to Paris" on the second night ; and, last night, 
 " The Country Cousins" went gloriously. The whole lower circle was 
 crammed ; but only those who could go in coaches could attend, of 
 course. The first night there were eight hundred dollars in the house, 
 and my share came to 50i. sterling. In my next I shall be able to tell 
 you the results of my seven nights* engagement, which is an experi- 
 mental one. The three great towns — Boston, Philadelphia, and New 
 York, are the marts where I am to make my money. In the mean 
 time we will not object to 50/. per night ; which sum Price offered me 
 certain, and I was advised to refuse. The imperial and important fact 
 I have ascertained — that they can taste and feel my humour, and that 
 I have made a great hit. The papers, which are very numerous here, 
 and have taken me up with a high hand, will send my fame before me 
 through the States. I was very anxiou-s and doubtful, and looked 
 upon the first night here to be one of the most important in my 
 tlieatrical life. It is over, and well over ; and I have no doubt, from 
 its effects, that my utmost hopes will be realized. Wood, the manager, 
 is quite a gentleman, and him only have I yet seen. I had only one 
 letter to Baltimore ; and the person to whom it is addressed is not at 
 home. Price I have left at Bristol, but will send your letter to him. 
 You see I have followed your example in the size of my sheet, though 
 I hardly hope to fill it. 
 
 I rejoice as the hours fly that you are nearer getting my first letter. 
 The most serious part of the appalling news of the fever was the effect 
 I feared the first report might have upon you, and the distressing 
 suspense, of perhaps three or four weeks, in which you would be kept. 
 I hope by the end of next week my letter will have reached you, and 
 from that time the communication will be more regularly kept up. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 New York, Nov. 7th, 1822. 
 Here I am at last; and, thank God, health and confidence are 
 restored here. This is really a delightful city, with as much bustle as 
 London or Paris; but bearing a greater resemblance to Dublin in many 
 particulars than to the former. The want of handsome equipages and 
 well-dressed persons is particularly striking to an Englishman. At 
 present it is a scene of the greatest possible noise and confusion. I 
 believe I explained to you that there was a part of the city only that 
 
^64 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 had been declared infected. From this part the whole of the inhabitants 
 fled. Imagine the effect of the Strand from Bedford-street, all Charing 
 cross, Cockspur-street, Haymarket, and so on, across to Covent Garden, 
 being entirely depopulated; and then these persons all returning on a 
 sudden to their dwellings ; their furniture, which had been taken to 
 different country dwellings, and to distant parts of the city, all being 
 brought back. You may then fancy what I am now witnessing. The 
 bustle is very cheering to the natives, as it proclaims the return of 
 health and business; but it is very distressing to me, for the noise is 
 overpowering. 1 arrived here on Saturday evening last, after a three- 
 days' ride from Philadelphia, ninety miles, which I performed with ease 
 in half an hour less than the given time, as I found Price's dinner ready 
 in that time after my arrival. This month is particularly delightful 
 here : it is what is called their Indian summer. Very seldom is a cloud 
 to be seen, and no logs. For the last ten days it has been all sunshine, 
 a,nd a perfectly clear sky ; and you know what a blessing that is for 
 me. The nights, to be sure, are cold. When the really hard weather 
 sets in, which they say is much more severe than ours, I shall suffer, 
 for here all are wood fires, and to these I never can be reconciled. You 
 have been in Paris only in summer, and therefore you do not know this 
 horror. The want of cheerfulness and civility is striking, and the 
 egregious folly of the middle and lower orders in their fancied inde- 
 pendence, is calculated to produce a smile of thorough contempt rather 
 than anger. It consists in studied sullenness, the determination never 
 to be civil or apparently kind to a fellow-creature, and not to bow, or 
 gay thank }■ e, to a person they know to be their superior, for they affect 
 not to believe in it. The upper orders (for there are upper orders, and 
 must be, though it is not allowed here) either like it, or are compelled 
 to submit to it. I cannot quite make up iifiy mind which is the real 
 case. The manager of a theatre tells me that it is not in his power to 
 induce the lamplighter or carpenter, when he walks into the green-room 
 before ladies, to take off his hat, and this is allowed, and must be sub- 
 mitted to, they tell me. No carriages are closed here in summer (nor 
 in winter, I should think), and the driver will smoke a segar, and a 
 lady dares not ask him to desist, though the smoke blinds her, because 
 the odds are, that he will say he has a right to smoke, and every man 
 must do as he likes in an independent state. A few days before I left 
 Baltimore I travelled in a stage coach a short distance. The coachman, 
 an awkward, dirty, cadaverous-looking hound, that would be thought 
 too shabby for a stable-boy in England, turned round to the passengers 
 (for the driving-seat is a part of the coach, and not an elevated box, as 
 with us), and said, " Has anybody got any tobacco, for I'm out ?" " I 
 chew, sir," said a passenger. " Give me a bit, will you ? Thank'ye, 
 General." " Judge,* will you have a quid ? I got plenty now." A 
 fact ! I have seen this General since in company, and, " barring" the 
 quid, really a gentleman by education and travel, fit for any society. I 
 
 * Judge Johnson, of Orleans, and a member of the Congress. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 265. 
 
 ventured to ask him how he could endure such familiarity? and added, 
 that persons of his rank appeared to me to cherish and encourage what 
 is distinctly offensive to foreigners. He replied, " All such men have 
 votes." 
 
 I need not say what a feast it was to me to receive two large packets 
 the moment I arrived on Saturday night. I am quite delighted with 
 the plan of your journal : it is a happy thought, and I am very grateful 
 to you for your kind anxiety to amuse me. Pray continue on the 
 same plan. Price has offered to ensure 75Z. per night, an advance of 
 251. This looks well ; but still I take my chance of my shares, better 
 or worse. Price, and Mrs. Price too, beg all sorts of kind things may 
 be said to you in return for yours to them. 
 
 If you see Miller, tell him I have got a lodging on the English plan 
 at New York. I told him I never would board, if I starved, but he 
 assured me I must. Tell him I never have, and never will. I am in- 
 formed, that out of a population of a hundred and twenty thousand I. 
 am the only person who has got a lodging to himself. In short the 
 only person who can be alone if he wishes it; and I do wish it, and 
 never enjoyed solitary pleasure so luxuriously as here. God bless and 
 preserve you and dear Charles, for the sake of him who loves you more 
 and more as time goes on. 
 
 Ever, ever affectionately yours, C. Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 New York, Nov. 15th, 1822. 
 I have had the pleasure of receiving a few pages more of your 
 iournal ; and I am more than delighted at the cheerful tone of it, and 
 find that " the first fit of blues" is not recorded until the middle of 
 September. I am now familiarized to the subject, and understand the 
 mysteries and peculiarities of the yellow fever, which only a residence 
 on the spot can possibly make one acquainted with. The impression 
 that we Europeans have of its contagious qualities is, that it is like 
 the plague. Now the fact is, that out of one hundred and twenty 
 thousand inhabitants (to be sure a great proportion fled), only twenty- 
 eight died. You may remember that I gave you an account of a poor 
 victim in the ship, of whom we made sport, who was constantly in a 
 state of intoxication. He was panic-struck about the fever; and when 
 I got the only bed that was vacant at Hoboken, on the opposite shore, 
 he begged hard to be taken into the same house. When I fled to 
 Bristol, I sent George to him to say he might have my bed. He lived 
 only three weeks; he had, it is true, undermined his constitution. 
 They swear here that it was not the fever; but if it was not, he died of 
 fright. From that hour America has been to me a large hospital ; and 
 all conversation a mere medical report. I had been in Baltimore more 
 than a fortnight before I found that the yellow fever existed there 
 stronger than in New York, and with more fatal consequences ; forty- 
 five, forty, and thirty-five deaths occurring in three succeeding weeks. 
 
266 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 What think you of this ? Was it not enough to appal me ? One- 
 half of the actors were ill of ague, which they brought from Wash- 
 ington ; so that I was surrounded by " horrors and distraction." • It 
 really was melancholy. Had poor Charley been here, he could not have 
 survived, or any body of such constitution. Thanks to a good one, and 
 a rigid adlierence to my plan of diet, I lay like Manly on the wreck of 
 the Apollo, and saw my comrades dying around me. " What could 
 induce you to come here, Sir, during our sickness P" was consoling to 
 hear ; but this assailed me on every side. The simple fact was, that 
 the newspapers which do and will govern everything, announced the 
 yellow fever at New York with exaggeration, but artfully concealed the 
 disease at Baltimore under the title of *' bilious malignant," which did 
 not prevent strangers from visiting them. It was marvellous that with 
 this drawback, my theatrical success was so great. It would have been 
 double, doubtless, but for the sickness. The loss has been great to me; 
 but I have escaped, thank God ! and have never had one moment's 
 illness since I arrived. No language, however, can describe to you the 
 wretched eiFect of the regular report of relations, friends, &c. at 
 Washington. I inquired for Mr. Law, a nephew of Lord Ellenborough, 
 to whom I had a letter. Knocked at the door, — " Oh 1 my master's 
 dead!" Inquired for Mr. Paterson, to whom I had a letter from 
 Washington Irving, — " Out of town." Engaged to dine with Mrs. 
 Paterson, in his absence, — excuse stated, the " sister dead!" " General 
 Bidglej^'s compliments to Mr. Mathews — honour of his company to 
 dinner on Friday." Friday arrives, — " General Eidgley's compliments, 
 — sorry, but the death of his daughter prevents," &c. On my return 
 from Washington, I actually went, letter in hand, to Mr. Paterson,^ — 
 " Oh ! Sir, my master died last night !" I will close here. You will 
 understand what I have felt. 'Tis now over ; but be satisfied of this, 
 that this disease never existed in July, August, or September, and from 
 this month the climate is very healthy. The present month is particu- 
 larly delicious, — warm nights and Italian days. The sun is now 
 shining with splendour and brightness, without a cloud, and no heat. 
 
 Now to turn to the bright part of the picture. I have made my 
 appearance here, and have made a prodigious hit. Price has just shown 
 himself a capital politician. You know how I fought against appearing 
 in the regular drama, and had determined, up to the time I saw him 
 in Baltimore, that I would not be moved from my fixed resolve. The 
 Baltimore audience, however, were noisy, and they drove me from my 
 table, and I took to the drama in despair ; for 1 was out of heart, out 
 of humour, and out of pocket. So I acted Duherly* and the " Polly 
 Packet,^ — Solomon Gundy, \ and " DilUgence" Monsieur Tonson. 
 I think I told you I had acted with great effect, — certainly one of my 
 very best efforts in or out of the legitimate line. Well, Price saw me 
 act Goldfinch and Tonson one night, and came round and said, " Those 
 Sir, are the two parts you open in at New York ; they have seen nothing 
 
 **Lord Duberly, in " The Heir at Law." 
 t lu "Who wants a Guinea ?" 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 267 
 
 like your Goldfinch* Sir, and it must be so." I gave way ; for to say 
 truth, I had doubts that all American audiences were like Baltimore ; 
 and in that case I had long secretly determined to embark at New 
 York, and sneak home again. Nothing, however, can be more complete 
 than the contrast, — nothing more brilliant and decisive than my success. 
 I opened to the greatest stock house ever known, — much greater than 
 that of Cooke or Kean. Nearly 1800 dollars ! My reception was more 
 than rapturous ; I never recollect anything more joyous in my life. 
 They infused me with fun ; I was in tip-top spirits ; and the songs were 
 hailed with shouts. The Tonson was equal in effect to the most suc- 
 cessful of my former personations ; and at the dropping of the curtain, 
 huzzas cheered my efforts. This was an important night, as you say, 
 and I am sorry that it was not the second communication, as you 
 anticipated; but I am content. The whole tone of my future pro- 
 ceedings will be taken from this night. This is the London of America ; 
 and I was forced to play at Doncaster first. All the places were taken 
 for my benefit. Therefore Price calculated cleverly, that to begin the 
 entertainments until my second engagement, would be throwing them 
 away. I have my benefit on the eighth night, — then make a fresh 
 engagement with all my novelty. Now we have had 1600 dollars to 
 " The Heir-at-Law," and second night of Tonson. Kely upon it, the 
 business is done, and my expedition will be completely successful. Of 
 the loss of time we must not think. 
 
 Love to dear Charles ; and say how I rejoice that he has obtained 
 the Delphin Classics. I beg that he may be indulged to his wish in 
 such pursuits, during my absence. God bless you both, prays daily 
 your truly affectionate 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 New York, Nov. 23rd, 1822. 
 I have so frequently written in high-flowing terms of my success in 
 my tours, that I have almost exhausted every term of surprise or admi- 
 ration ; but this is the most extraordinary hit I have ever made. Last 
 night I had my first benefit, and I shall always think it the greatest 
 compliment ever paid me. The torrents of rain which fell during the 
 whole day (and we in England don't know what rain is) would have 
 totally destroyed the house in any town in which I have ever been. I 
 had to wait for a hackney coach until the time 1 ought to have been 
 on the stage ; but walking was out of the question, as nothing short of 
 drowning appeared inevitable. It was thought by all that it would 
 injure the house very materially, as scarcely any private carriages are 
 kept here. When I went in, to my great surprise as well as delight. 
 Price said, " Well, sir, here they are. Your house is full. This is the 
 greatest complimetit ever paid to an actor in New York. I don't 
 
 * In " The Road to Ruin." 
 
268 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 believe that there is any other man that would have had such a house 
 as this on such a night." There were 1800 dollars, which is nearly as 
 much as the house will hold. The rain must have done some injur}^ 
 else it would have overflowed, instead of being full, and I believe that 
 is all the difference. No enthusiasm ever was greater. Price has shown 
 his judgment greatly in this engagement, I told you in my last the 
 origin of my taking to the drama. The entertainments were asked for 
 every day at the box-office, and the cry you must give them, or the 
 houses will fall off; and on the sixth night, a wet night, too, we had 
 1400 dollars to Goldfinch, the second time, and Tonson,i\\Q third time. 
 Price justly said, '* Should we not be fools to throw away our strength, 
 when they come in this way to very weakness ?" Well, I must do one 
 of them for my own niglvt. On Wednesday I start with the " Trip to 
 Paris." The eventful period of which you were so anxious to hear is 
 arrived ; it is properous beyond our hopes. I look upon the remainder 
 of my work as a settled point. All other towns will take their tone 
 from this, as in England from London ; and the curiosity to see me is 
 such that Cooper and Phillips, the only stars excepting Booth, say that 
 they fail because the people are hoarding up their dollars to see me. I 
 send you a copy of a few lines in the newspaper of Wednesday. 
 
 A very handsome complimjent has been paid to Mathews, such as cannot be 
 soon forgotten by him. We learn that a party of gentlemen have chartered 
 the steam-boat, The Fly, to bring them down from Albany (two hundred 
 miles) to his benefit to-morrow evening ; thus making a journey, to and fro, 
 of four hundred miles, to be gratified in witnessing his powers for one 
 evening. 
 
 Another unsought puff caught my eye : — 
 
 The proprietors of the Brooklyn boat inform the public, that the steam- 
 vessels Fulton and Active will, on the occasion of Mr. Mathews's benefit, 
 start from Brooklyn at half- past five, and remain to carry the passengers back 
 after the play. 
 
 These boats never cross the ferry after five on other occasions. Does 
 not this look well ? This morning I read : — 
 
 Dr. Hosack informs the medical students that, in consequence of the tempest 
 last night, which compelled him to postpone his lectures, &c. 
 
 I now send the receipts of the eight nights ; and I think, and Price 
 says he is sure of it, the next will keep up to the mark. 
 
 DOLLARS. 
 
 Road to Ruin— Tonson 1700 
 
 Poor Gentleman — Sleepwalker 962 
 
 Heir-at-Law — Tonson 1401 
 
 Who Wants a Gruinea ? —Killing No Murder . . . 1178 
 
 Henry IV.— Lying Valet 1214 
 
 Road to Ruin— Tonson 1420 
 
 Beaux Stratagem — Actor of All Work 1287 
 
 Wild Oats— Do. Do 1800 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 269 
 
 Let this suffice until we meet. Be satisfied, though, you understand 
 it, and the dollars may dazzle you too much (444 dollars are 1001. 
 observe). I have received above SOOl. for my eight nights ! ! This is 
 superior to anything I ever did out of London. I have gained 25L 
 per night by sharing. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 New York, Dec. 7th, 1822. 
 
 The cold is intense, and I am told it is nothing to what may be 
 expected. We have already had snow enough to spoil one or two of 
 my houses. However, an indifferent house will yield me nearly 50/. 
 sterling. My own entertainments do not hit here so well as at Balti- 
 more ; the general belief is, that they are too local for Americans, who 
 have not visited Europe, to understand. This would, however, have 
 equally applied at Baltimore. The truth is, the theatre is too large for 
 the effects. Price has shown himself an admirable politician. Had I 
 commenced with my entertainment, I am convinced my attraction after- 
 wards would not have been what it is now ; and my feelings are by no 
 means hurt that here they think me an actor — " a very natural actor, 
 and the only comedian that has ever been seen in America that was not 
 extravagant." The word mimic has never been flung in my teeth ; and 
 without songs or imitations, or any of those extra aids, which even in 
 Edinburgh I required, I can draw a house. That Goldfinch and 
 Tonson are good tor 1500 dollars is a bet now (when I return). 
 
 I finish my second engagement here on Friday next, to a great house 
 (this is already settled), and then, I believe, go to Boston. I am very 
 much pleased with the society of New York, and gradually like it 
 better. I have seen nothing but the upper ranks lately, and they are 
 very delightful people. The woman with whom I lodge is the widow 
 of an Englishman, and therefore knows all our habits. The servants 
 are negroes, and therefore I have no dealings with the sulky-looking 
 Yankee. I do not even buy my own gloves — the shopkeepers are so 
 very angry when you purchase anything of them. 
 
 If you ever see the Bartleys, who are engaged, I hear, at Covent 
 Garden, pray say to them how much I am delighted with Dr. Hosack 
 and his family : they are the real sterling goods, and I am quite at 
 home with them. They ask me to entertain me — to afford me quiet 
 repose after my labours. " My children, you must not talk to Mr. 
 Mathews ; he talks too much in public to be disposed to answer all 
 your questions." This is rare, and I value it. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
270 THE LIFE AND COERESPONDENCE OF 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 New York, Dec. 15th, 1822. 
 
 The great pleasure I felt in receiving your letters was much damped 
 by the melancholy tone of expression respecting my situation. It is 
 curious enough that on the 9th of October I dreamed about you, or had 
 a sort of vision of your being very unhappy, or ill, or that something 
 very distressing had happened; but the effect your expression of 
 countenance produced on me (when silently you shook your head as if 
 you dreaded to inform me of the worst), was such that I could scarcely 
 speak at breakfast, I was so wretchedly out of spirits. Price laughed, 
 but Mrs. Price felt very kindly for me ; and knowing that I had not 
 then heard from home, sympathized with me. I requested her to make 
 a memorandum of the date, and I find it was the evening when 
 Elizabeth had first so abruptly mentioned the yellow fever to you.* 
 
 I was nearly a fortnight in Baltimore before I discovered that the 
 yellow fever was raging in one part of that city ; for, mysterious as it 
 is, it is certain that the infection is always confined to districts. I 
 first discovered it by Wood, the manager, twice refusing to show me a 
 part of the town I was curious to see. He refused peremptorily to 
 walk that way ; and I then said, " Well, I suppose you won't prevent 
 my walking there alone. There is a turn in the river in that part so 
 beautifully romantic, that I will have a walk there." " For God's sake, 
 don't go near it !" he cried ; and then the murder was out. " It is not 
 healthy," and so on. The same pains were taken to keep the news 
 from me that, in a more friendly way, was practised towards you. Dr. 
 Pattison, a Scotsman, with whom I was intimate at Baltimore, said 
 that he had watched me narrowly ; and, finding from my health and 
 habits, that I was not a subject for it, believing also firmly that the 
 disease was not infectious, and that it was certainly confined to a part 
 of the city, a mile and a half from that part in which I lived, he 
 thought it better to keep the fact from me as long as possible, as fear 
 alone will sometimes occasion disease. 
 
 The folly and weakness of people here about the fever can hardly be 
 described. An Irishman will as willingly confess that Dublin is a dirty 
 place, as an American that the yellow fever is of native origin, — it is a 
 sore point ; it is next to an affront, even to Price, to say it is contagious. 
 Nay, the humbug is kept up for effect even in letters written to England. 
 Price was sent for post-haste to New York. He met me afterwards at 
 Philadelphia, three days after his time. I received a letter informing 
 me that Simpsonf was ill of the pleurisy. On his arrival, I said, 
 " Well, has Simpson got over the fever P'* " Who said he had the 
 fever, sir ? It is not true, sir." Nothing could annoy him so much. 
 Not forty-eight hours after, Mrs. Price said, " I am astonished, Mr. 
 
 * My maid, who could not resist preparing me for the contents of her 
 master's first letter, as she delivered it, by revealing her previous knowledge 
 respecting the fever. 
 
 f Mr. Price's partner. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 271 
 
 Price, you should join in that absurd deception that the fever is not 
 infectious P" " I do say so still," said he ; and in an unguarded 
 moment, in heat of argument, said afterwards to my great triumph, 
 *' Was I not almost two days by Simpson's bedside, who had it as bad 
 as man could, and did I catch it ?" Yet does he write to Miller that it 
 has been greatly exaggerated! The company were all cautioned to 
 read pleurisj- for fever. It was marvellous that the people could be 
 induced to go to the theatre. I suffered horribly by it, as you may 
 imagine ; but I may without vanity say that I was the only person 
 now living who could have brought houses during the calamity. You 
 can have no notion of the wretchedness of the scene and its associations ; 
 or the coolness with which it is treated here. They die at twelve 
 o'clock on Tuesday, and in twenty-four hours afterwards they are 
 buried ; and all sensation appears to cease with the friends of the 
 parties. Twice I knocked at doors with letters of Washington Irving 
 in my hand — " Mr. Paterson at home ?" " I guess he died last night !" 
 
 " Mr. at home ?" the same answer. Ten people at Baltimore said 
 
 angrily to me, " Who told you Robert Paterson died of yellow fever ?" 
 I could have said, the physician who attended him, who laughs at your 
 self-deception, but dares not avow it. " I hope you will come to 
 Washington : our city is quite healthy," said several. I went ; George 
 was attacked with fever and ague the moment he arrived there. It 
 was the most unhealthy of all the United States. Can you conceive 
 such folly ? An English surgeon, who introduced himself to me, again 
 was the exposer. " Take my advice, sir, and don't stay here long." 
 This was on the second night of my performance. On the morning 
 after, for the first time, I felt queer. It was nervousness, I now know. 
 Mr. Burke accompanied me in the Adolphus line. I went to George's 
 bedside at nine in the morning. Such a spectacle ! " Have you 
 courage to be moved?" "Oh! yes, sir." "Can we get a private 
 carriage, Mr. Burke?" (There are no post-chaises here, or horses on 
 the road.) " Yes." " To take us thirty-six miles to Baltimore ?" 
 " Yes ; but it will delay you an hour, perhaps two." " Never mind ; I 
 feel that if I stay half an hour in this place I shall be ver}-- ill — at any 
 rate I shall fancy it. I am shivering now, and the thermometer is above 
 80 ; T must entreat you, as you are well, that you will humour me. No 
 third night, if you please. Tell those people who are waiting my 
 answer from George Town I am gone — settle my bills — wrap George 
 up in a blanket — and get away from this place as soon as you can — I 
 am oft'!" and away I went. I ran for about a quarter of a mile, till 
 I saw the Capitol behind me. 
 
 Nothing can be more healthy than this city is now. Once more let 
 me assure you that that scourge, the yellow fever, occurs only in the 
 middle of summer, and that only in unusually hot seasons. I there- 
 fore do not imagine that there is any cause for apprehension, as I shall 
 leave the country before the approach of hot weather, which never sets 
 in till June. I have dwelt so much upon feverish subjects, that I have 
 hardly room to give you any theatrical information ; but I can truly, 
 
272 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 though briefly, say, that I am pursuing a career of great success. The 
 actual crowding has diminished, — that, of course, must be expected ; 
 but I have hitherto exceeded in receipts all the stars that have gone 
 before me, and my second benefit produced 1200 dollars. Do not 
 suppose this is falling off. It was as great as the first. Consider a 
 second advertised night, within a fortnight of the first. I am hurrying 
 off" from Boston, in consequence of circumstances too tedious to mention. 
 The probabilities are that I play there next week. God bless you both, 
 my darlings ! Pray keep up your spirits : and believe me, when I tell 
 you that I am as cheerful, contented, and happy as I can be, so far 
 removed from you both. Accept, my dearest wife, the renewed 
 assurances of my steady and unalterable afiection. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Boston, Dec. 28tli, 1822. 
 I arrived here in health and safety on Tuesday, after a " teagos 
 passig," when I thought I never should get to Providence. I was 
 advised by Price to go by water, as the most pleasant and convenient, 
 on account of my baggage, and that the average passage was about 
 thirty or forty hours. I had a horror of two hundred and forty miles 
 by land, with the weather so severe as it is here now, and therefore 
 decidedly preferred it. But the wind was contrary, and we were from 
 Thursday morning, nine o'clock, until Monday evening, before we got 
 to Providence, where I landed, and proceeded forty miles by land, 
 and got there time enough to be too late, for I was advertized 
 to appear on Monday evening. Great was the disappointment thereof, 
 for numbers came sixteen miles to see me ; but I could not possibly 
 arrive till Tuesday, though Phillips had cold beef ready for me, and 
 waited dinner on Sunday. On my arrival I found a note from Manners, 
 now British consul at Boston, with whom I dined on Christmas-day in 
 a real English style. This is a day not universally observed in this 
 country, either as to public worship, or private jollifications. As it was 
 the 26th in the morning with you before we had left the dinner-table, 
 we drank dear Charley's health, and many happy returns of the day. 
 
 On Tuesday night I made my appearance here in Goldfinch and 
 Tonson — the reception great, and I was confirmed in my opinion that 
 Morhleu is my best part. They huzzaed when the curtain fell. To 
 accommodate the disappointed, who could not get in, the play and farce 
 were encored, and repeated last night with equal effect. As I have 50^. 
 per night certain, I have not inquired the receipts ; but the theatre was 
 crammed. It will not hold quite a thousand dollars, but it was full. 
 This is the place where they were so capricious to Kean, and where he 
 refused to act to a bad house, which was the cause of his quitting - 
 America; as he never acted after. It was for this reason I preferred 
 a certainty. You may recollect the circumstance of places being sold 
 by auction j the same thing occurred on Thursday. No money is taken 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 273 
 
 at the doors ; and, as in Paris, tickets are issued only for the number 
 the theatre will hold. The proprietors bind the manager down not to 
 sell one more than the stipulated number. On great occasions (of 
 which only four have occurred, Cooke, Phillips, Kean, and myself), 
 people speculate in buying up tickets. It is mobbing work to purchase 
 them. So that the elbowing and overflowing symptoms are displayed 
 of a morning instead of an evening. People who dislike this ceremony 
 as much as I (remember " make room for this lady to come out !") em- 
 ploy porters, &c. — brawny fellows — chairmen, who frequently remain 
 there all night. When they have purchased a number of tickets at a 
 dollar each, they will sell them to the highest bidder ; and four or six 
 dollars are sometimes given. Last night was a proof that the theatre 
 is not large enough for great occasions, as a repeated performance 
 refilled the house, and fellows took their station at twelve o'clock on 
 Thursday night, and remained till the box-door opened to-day. 
 Nothing can be more rapturous than my reception ; and having made 
 my hit here, the thing is established beyond reach of alarm or suspicion. 
 The Bostonians have given themselves a name as critics, and it is said 
 by themselves, that this is more like an English town than any in 
 America, — more literary people, better polished ; and larger cities look 
 up much to their opinion. Kean, in one of his speeches from the stage, 
 called it the literary emporium. I shall stay here nearly a month longer, 
 and then back to New York. 
 
 I can hardly hold my pen. You have never seen ice, nor felt frost. 
 My water-jug was frozen this morning. The ice was so thick that I 
 could not break it with one of the legs of a chair. I am, thank God, 
 so well that I bear it better than the natives decidedly. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Boston, Jan. 4th, 1823. 
 Happy new year to you and dear Charles, and may this meet you in 
 good health and spirits as it leaves me ! I ought to consider myself, 
 as indeed I do, one of the most fortunate of men in respect to consti- 
 tution. I appear to be almost the only person here that is not cut 
 down by the severity of the climate. We know nothing of winter. 
 The English who have been here two or three years can hardly endure 
 it. The first season, it appears, they stood it well. I have not suffered 
 at all. It is a curious and very novel scene, to witness the sleighs 
 here. They are carriages, of various sizes and descriptions, placed upon 
 iron runners without wheels, which they use as long as snow remains 
 upon the ground. They even go long journeys in them. Some of 
 them are in the shape of a balloon car, and go with immense velocity. 
 As they make no noise, small bells are placed on the horses' heads to 
 give notice of approach, so that this town is one continued scene ot 
 what some would call merriment. But as neither small nor large bells 
 
 T 
 
27-* THE LIFE AND COREESPONDENCE OF 
 
 can convey such a sentiment to me, I have no other idea but a" dis-* 
 agreeable ringing in my ears. If the poor horses are annoyed as I am, 
 I pity them. There is " great patronage here of me ;" yes, indeed 1 
 On Wednesday night a full house, notwithstanding most terrific snow 
 from morning till night ; a white chaos. It was indeed a compliment. 
 I shall be here nearly three weeks more. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Boston, Jan. 7th, 1823. 
 
 I am going on greatly ; and have still the happiness of reporting to 
 you my excellent health in this, I may call it, most terrific climate ; 
 the thermometer this morning was two degrees below zero, I have 
 heard a black preacher, who was rather amusing. The pranks that 
 are played in the "nigger meetings," as they are called, are beyond 
 belief — yelling, screeching, and groaning, resembling a fox chase much 
 more than a place of worship. 
 
 To-day nineteen dollars were paid for a box ! for the first night of 
 my " Trip to Paris," to-morrow ; and so on, 14 — 12 — 10, according to 
 the situation ; and the overplus is given to a theatrical fund. So that 
 I shall do some good here, at any rate. Notwithstanding all this, the 
 theatre is small compared to New York, and I feel I am right in taking 
 a certainty. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. Rolls. 
 
 Boston, Massachusetts, — New England, — United States, — America: 
 Jan. 4th, 1823. 
 
 My dear Feiends, — Though all your efforts, and all the recollections 
 of your former kindness, could not squeeze one line out of me in Europe, 
 I write from the New World in full and fervent hopes of mercy, of for- 
 giveness of past injuries, and that when I confess my sins to you, I 
 shall not plead for pardon in vain. I suppose you have heard from my 
 wife of the untimely fate of the only letter I have written to you for a 
 long period. It was a good one — it was indeed ! and ver}'- long too. I 
 cannot write such another now. I was then surrounded by those I 
 love ; I can't quite say that now. I wrote that said letter to make my 
 peace with you before I left the Old World ; and by some accidental fit 
 of absence, though I wrote it for the purpose of my son taking it with 
 him from Liverpool to forward to you, I locked it up in my desk and 
 took it to sea; nor did I discover the mistake until a week after I 
 sailed. A vessel hove in sight. " A Frenchman !" said our captain. 
 He hailed us : — 
 
 " Whither bound ?"— " Havre de Grace." 
 
 " What is the name of your sheep /" — " William Thompson !** 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 27$ 
 
 " What is the capetaine's name ?" — " William Thompson !'* 
 
 " What is the owner's name ?" — " William Thompson !" 
 
 " Have you some lady on board ?" — " Yes." 
 
 " What is her name ?'"— " Mrs. Thompson !" 
 
 *' Diable !" was roared through the trumpet, to the great amusement 
 of our crew. He then consented to come near enough to us for the 
 letter to be thrown on board which I had written to you. A weight 
 was attached to it ; but alas ! the marksman failed. The mate under- 
 took to throw it clean into the French vessel ; but it fell short a yard 
 or two, and my long, laborious, clever, and very entertaining letter met 
 a watery grave ! 
 
 I arrived at New York after a very pleasant passage of thirty-five 
 days, on the 5th of September. I presume you have heard from my 
 wife of the unfortunate circumstances under which I landed. I have 
 seen accounts in the English papers of the yellow fever in America, and 
 of course they have reached you in Paris. I will flatter myself, though 
 I am not entitled to your thoughts, that you felt for my situation. 
 Nothing could be more appalling than the intelligence as first commu- 
 nicated to me by two fishermen, about a hundred miles from New 
 York. " What news ?" — " Yellow fever at New York, I guess." — 
 " Fatal ?" — " I reckon it is P" — " Many deaths ?" — " One hundred and 
 forty every twenty-four hours, I suppose." — ^' Have the inhabitants 
 remained ?" — " Fifty thousand, or somewheres thereaways, have quit 
 right away." — The number of deaths was an exaggeration ; but we 
 found quite enough of the intelligence true to induce me to give up all 
 thoughts of going on shore in the city. 
 
 As we approached the harbour, the desolating effects of the pestilence 
 were too apparent to render the fisherman's tale doubtful. The quays 
 of the city are very commodious ; and, as I have since seen them, 
 greatly calculated to impress a stranger with notions of wealth, ex- 
 tended commerce, bustle, and activity. Imagine the effect of a sabbath- 
 like silence in such a situation to those who could contrast its present 
 quiet with its former life. Imagine (though we have no quays to allow 
 the comparison), but suppose from the Thames, or one of the bridges, 
 that you could look at the banks of the river, and into the streets, 
 thence to the Strand, and that no one inhabitant was to be seen 
 between Westminster and Blackfriars; you may then form some 
 notion of the melancholy scene that presented itself to my eyes, with 
 all its distressing associations. Pompeii could not be more awfully 
 still ; for one quarter of the city was, by general command, depopulated. 
 This was called the infected district. " I fled for safety and for succour" 
 to Baltimore, where I made my dehut about three weeks after my 
 arrival. This was commencing operations at Doncaster, instead of 
 making the impression in London, I spent nearly ten days before I 
 discovered that the fever raged there also, and more fatally ; but it was 
 cautiously concealed from strangers, and passed under another name — 
 the fatal visitor had an alias. I will not attempt to enter into the 
 causes of this disgusting fact, but be assured of its truth. While the 
 
 T 2 
 
276 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 magistracy and Board of Health of New York proclaimed the ravages 
 of the disease, and warned strangers from approaching their shores, 
 the Baltimorians received strangers with open arms, and proclaimed 
 that their city was healthy ! Nay, the press of the two cities entered 
 into a kind of party controversy, and twitted each other with the pesti- 
 lence, as if it were a political error, for which the government ought to 
 be rendered accountable- Notwithstanding this calamity, I opened to 
 a great house. The second and third were equally good ; but they fell 
 off. How is thisP At length, pride and good feeling towards me 
 (added to my reading in a Baltimore paper weekly report of deaths — 
 ** Palsy, 1; ague, 4 ; bilious malignant fever, 46;") brought farther 
 truth. I was congratulated on my 1000 dollar benefit. Prodigious ! 
 under all circumstances, — coming at such a time. ** How ?" — " Why, 
 sir, our epidemic." — " Oh, oh ! I begin to perceive. But why don't 
 you call it by its proper name?" Mark one answer — "Ah, the New 
 York people can afford to lose their trade for one year. Baltimore has 
 suffered too much; we can't afford to drive away merchants and 
 strangei's at this time of the year." I leave your imagination to fill 
 up the rest of the canvas ; you can fully understand what were my 
 sensations when I discovered the dreadful truth. 
 
 My success at New York was triumphant ; during sixteen nights 
 great houses; from 1200 to 1800 dollars nightly; a most joyous 
 audience; and the attentions paid me in private have been equally 
 flattering. The upper orders of society are very pleasing, and infinitely 
 more polished than it is the fashion to believe in Europe. They have 
 less fun than the grave English ; not a very quick perception of humour, 
 and are apparently dead to the fascinations of puiming. Their gravity 
 almost amounts to melancholy ; and therefore it is hopeless to expect 
 sport in fishing for character. I have thrown many lines into their 
 calm unruffled streams, and have not been negligent in attending to 
 the nicety of my baits, but I have not caught anything. I should 
 have been delighted at a bite, but I have not even been solaced by a 
 nibble. However, I have not thrown away my hooks in despair ; my 
 rods are not yet laid by for the season. 
 
 As to the lower orders, I know not where they are to be found. I 
 know no bait that will tempt them from their lurking-places. The 
 servants, waiters, porters, &c., are nearly all "niggars;" the hackney- 
 coachmen nearly all Irish or Scotch. There are apparently no poor — 
 certainl}' no beggars. The American is too proud and independent to 
 accept a menial situation. He will not be called servant, nor allow 
 that he has a master. As to liberty and independence, " rare words," 
 I am convinced that it is only productive of one very apparent effect, 
 which is, to render the rich and educated slaves to their inferiors ; at 
 least, to their absurd notions. I dare say you have, amongst others of 
 my friends, wondered why I should go to America. It was an irre- 
 sistible impulse. If I am to believe a clergyman of the Dutch 
 Reformed Church, who has been preaching at me because I perform to 
 fuller houses than he does, I could not possibly avoid it, as I was sent 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 277 
 
 here for a special purpose. This gentleman undertakes to point out 
 the causes of the late calamity, and pretends to have discovered the 
 sins that have excited the vengeance of the Great Creator. - I have 
 been here about a fortnight, and shall remain three weeks longer ; then 
 to New York, and thence to Philadelphia. If you should be inclined 
 to treat a poor fellow with a letter, which will be doubly dear to him 
 from its journeying three thousand miles, why so — it will be well 
 received. How difficult it is to fancy the situation of those who are 
 dear to us, at such a distance ! Well, well ! I must hope and hopGj 
 and look forward to that delicious moment when I may pop upon you 
 all once more. I see you all now, I do. Oh, how I should like to 
 open a door slily this afternoon, and say, " Ah !" to those dear little 
 roarers that were wont to be such an audience at Briton Ferry ! God 
 bless them all ! and you, my dear Mr. and Mrs. Rolls, and Mrs. Barnet, 
 and Miss Sherrat. Remember me kindly to everybody ; and bo 
 assured, that though I have been silent, you have always been present 
 to my sweetest recollections, and that I am, and always shall be, most 
 gratefully and sincerely yours, 
 
 C. Mathews, 
 Thermometer two degrees below zero. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Boston, Jan. 12th, 1823, alias Frozen Regions. 
 If you can hold a pen, dare to go from one room to another, or to 
 open your mouth without the fear of your words being frozen up — if 
 you can exert any of your energies, then pity me as I envy you in such 
 a case. This is the most trying climate that I ever imagined. In 
 short, all you have read of Russia will applj' to it. The water jug, 
 Irom which I had taken water to wash my hands at four o'clock, was 
 frozen at seven so hard that I could not break it. I bear it as well as 
 can be expected — that is to say, I have not had the slightest symptom 
 of cold. I have gone through my work with health and strength ; but 
 I cannot go out, for I am afraid to walk, and have no desire to try 
 their sleighing — for sleighing and killing' are synonymous terms with 
 me. I have once or twice experienced the sensation in their hacks 
 here, which are taken off their wheels and placed upon runners, as they 
 call them, for not one pair of wheels is to be seen in the town. Indeed, 
 they could not possibly get through the accumulation of snow. These 
 people are all happy, and as merry as Americans can affect to be — that 
 vexes me, who can only make myself happy by anticipating a thaw, 
 and death to their mad frolics in their sleighs. They whisk along at 
 about the rate of twelve miles an hour, and in open carriages like the 
 half of a boat. So fond are they of the sport, that it is common for 
 parties to go out at night ten or fifteen miles to adjacent villages, 
 dance there, and then return in these open sleighs. Funny people ! 
 they declare it is right arnest fun. 1 believe it is all they enjoy j so 
 rest them merry I * 
 
278 THE LIFj: AND COREESPONDENCE OF 
 
 The society here (the upper ranks — I have literally had no intercourse 
 with any other) is quite delightful. Washington Irving's letters here 
 •afforded two or three delightful days. At two houses in particular, I 
 will boldly say, that in no part of the world where I have travelled 
 have I seen "the thing done in better style," as they say in England, 
 as to dinners, servants, furniture, literary conversation, &o. It is 
 impossible, however prejudiced a man may be, to leave one of the 
 •houses of the first people here, or at New York, and make such remarks 
 
 ^s did. A man might with equal justice speak of Irish manners 
 
 generally from the specimens of it among Dublin shopkeepers. Talking 
 of Irish manners puts me in mind of English Manners. He is consul 
 liere, and as I met him wherever I went in old times, of course we had 
 plenty to say to each other. He has a very pleasant familj'', and is a 
 great solace to me during this miserable weather. 
 
 The " Trip to Paris" made an immense hit here, and places for the 
 second night of it, to-morrow, were sold b}' auction yesterday at from 
 ,3-2 to 17 dollars for the first choice. This is the place where Kean lost 
 himself. He had first complimented them in a speech, and called the 
 city the literary emporium of the New Word, and afterwards got 
 drunk, and would not play to a thin house. I have beat Kean here in 
 receipts. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Boston, Jan. 29th, 1823> 
 
 Here I am still at Boston. This is my last night. I wish you could 
 see me play Monsieur Tonson ; it is certainly the very best thing I 
 ever did. It is such a favourite here that I am pressed to take it for 
 my benefit. In this place so many persons will not go to a theatre, 
 who still wish to see me, that I am invited to give a night in a concert 
 hall, which I am told will be greatly attended. No clergyman dare to 
 go to a theatre here, but they will patronize me in a room ; and so, in 
 compliance with this request, on Friday night I operate. You make 
 me envy you, when you describe the beautiful weather you have. The 
 severity of the frost here is beyond anything a European can fancy. 
 
 When our Thames is frozen over, the event is commemorated by 
 ;fairs, and bills printed on the surface of the ice ; here, the rivers, five 
 or six times as broad as the Thames, are always frozen in the winter, 
 and navigation is entirely suspended. I have borne the climate won- 
 derfully, and am the amazement of the natives, who are all enveloped 
 in warm wrappings of every description. I am more confirmed than 
 ever in my objection to that system. 
 
 By the packet of the 8th of February I shall send money to 
 .Stephenson. My first note to Arnold is due in March, it is for 1200^. 
 I shall send from that sum to 2000/., according to the state of the 
 vjnoney market when I get to New York ; this I promised him should 
 be arranged with you. It is a melancholy refiection that I shall 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 279 
 
 probably not hear a remark from you on this subject until nearly May, 
 but I must endure it. I am in the best of health, thank God ! 
 
 Charles Lamb's account of my gallery has been copied into an 
 English newspaper here, called the Albion, and so has the scrap you 
 sent me, calling me such funny names — " Co" " Kaleidoscope," &c. 
 
 My time here has been spent in such uniformity, that you must 
 excuse the dulness of my epistles. Rehearsals with pumps— all 
 morning — three nights playing — dining out, &c. My own "At 
 Home" has hit much harder here than at New York, and is preferred 
 to the acting ; there it was vice versd. The localities are the chief 
 drawbacks, as you may suppose. My own " Youthful Days" is the 
 chief favourite ; and the Volunteer Song produces effect, for it is said 
 to be the exact representation of a similar scene here — where there are 
 no regulars. I can gather from that how joyous they would be if the 
 scenes #ere all equally familiar to them. Remember me to everybody. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 The scrap alluded to in the foregoing letter, calling him 
 " such funny names," &c., was taken from a work called 
 " Theatrical Portraits," &c., by Harry Sloe Van Dyk. The lines 
 are eccentric, and very expressive as — 
 
 "A PORTRAIT OF MATHEWS. 
 
 ** What shall we call thee, thou amusing elf, 
 Who hast a host of beings in thyself ? 
 Who canst vaiiety in all infuse, 
 And changest hke the expiring dolphin's hues, 
 Or skies in April ? Say, what term would be 
 Appropriate, thou world's epitome ? 
 Thou ambulating rainbow ! Fitful hope ! 
 Thou earthly moon ! Thou live kaleidoscope ! 
 Thou twenty voices ! Antidote to woe ! 
 Thou one plurality ! Thou single Go. !"* 
 
 * During this year was also published, in Oxford, what I have been told is 
 an ingenious parody on some of the Sapphics of Horace, headed — 
 
 <' MATHEWS COMICI LAUDES. 
 
 ** Prime mimorum ! thou rare mimic Mathews ! 
 
 Quem jocus circum volat, blithe as Mayday, 
 . Te canant gownsmen, giddy and grave too, 
 All over Oxford. 
 
 Tu potes proctors comitesque bull dogs 
 Ducere, et redcoats celeres morari ; 
 E'en the stern masters tibi blandienti 
 
 Smilingly cedunt. 
 
280 THE LIFE AND CORKESPONDENCE OF 
 
 Quin et each high don sociique vultu 
 Titter invito 'mid the gay assemblage ; 
 Shouts of applause rise rapid, dum catervas 
 
 Carmine mulces. 
 Tu, merry fellow, velut es levamen 
 To the pale forms whose final doom approaches ; 
 Who, cito coram solio Minervae 
 
 Shuddering will stand. 
 
 Fell are her Priests ! Quum Vitulos prehendant 
 
 Singulos eheu ! lacerant in pieces ! 
 
 Hi tamen mites sweetly gaze at Mathews 
 
 Full of his frolics. 
 Serus in Lunnum redeas, diuque 
 Gratus intersis populo togato ! 
 Leave the dull Cockneys, with us to be * At Home,' sir ! 
 
 Go it in Oxford!" 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 281- 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 Interview at Boston between Mr. Mathews and an old friend of his father^ 
 Letter from that gentleman to Mr. Mathews — Letters to Mrs. Mathews — 
 Letter from Mr. Mathews to Mr. James Smith ; the American character ; 
 inordinate love of petty titles; Yankee conversation; independent land- 
 lords ; conversation with an American Boniface ; a black Methodist ; Negro 
 songs — Letters to Mrs. Mathews — Preparations for return to England. 
 
 While my husband was at Boston, an old friend of his father 
 introduced himself to him. He was a dissenting minister, and 
 one of those who enforced their opinions by the mildness and 
 liberality of their language and manner. Such a one, with all 
 my husband's early distaste of the unwashed part of the com- 
 munity, he received with more than common respect and atten-r 
 tion ; and a verv^ long and interesting interview took place. A 
 few days after, Mr. Mathews being on the eve of his departure 
 for New York, the following interesting and amiable letter was 
 delivered to him from Mr. Sabine, the clergyman alluded to, 
 and much I regret that I do not possess a copy of the answer 
 to it ; — 
 
 To C, Mathews, Esq. 
 
 Boston, N. E., Elliot-street, Feb. 1st, 1823. 
 
 My dear Sie, — The half-hour's conversation with which you 
 favoured me the other day, has brought so many " things of other 
 days" to my mind, that I cannot persuade myself to dismiss you and 
 them without tendering again my best wishes for your happiness and 
 prosperity, I have taken the liberty also to send you a sermon, 
 preached by me on the last State thanksgiving-day. I have so done 
 for two reasons : first, you will receive it on Sundaj' — perhaps you 
 will be grave enough to give a sermon a reading on such a day, espe- 
 cially as it is one sent you by a countryman ; and then, there is some- 
 thing in it directly on the subject to which we alluded when we con- 
 versed on the New England character. In this particular, New 
 England people and English Dissenters are much alike. 
 
 The theatre has never received, and perhaps will never receive much 
 support from them. The views and feelings of your good old father 
 (now in a happier world,) are too well known to you to render it 
 
282 THE LIF5 AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 necessary for me to add another word on that head. The patronage, 
 however, which you have enjoyed in this grave city, must prove to you 
 that there are many so far weaned from the prejudices and habits of 
 the old folks, as to relish the wit and mirth of the English stage. Yet, 
 still I am under a persuasion, that a more moral and sober age is too 
 fast advancing upon us to admit of theatrical success in this region. I 
 should not wonder if Boston Theatre, before the lapse of seven years, 
 were in the hands of the religious community, and converted into a 
 church. Would it fill ypu with any regret should you hear, a few years 
 hence, when mellowing into age, that your countryman was calling 
 them to repentance and to tears on that very spot on which you iit 
 younger days made so many laugh, and forget almost that they were 
 immortal ? And how delighted should I be to hear that you had with- 
 drawn so much wit and talent from the focus of public amusement — 
 for your quota I am sure you have amply rendered — and directed them, 
 even at your term of life, to a more moral purpose. I am not, my 
 dear sir, dealing out censure, I am rather as a Christian asking the 
 residue of your powers to be engaged in a service which will repay you^ 
 and the world, too, a thousandfold beyond all that has been rendered 
 hitherto in the former course. A man of your turn cannot fall back 
 upon himself, and feast on private life ; you must, to old age, be a 
 public man. I would that that taste for public benefit should at length 
 be consecrated to religion and the immortal interests of men. Will 
 you not be persuaded again to visit the Holy Land, and review the 
 records of apostolic acts, to allow yourself to be charmed with the 
 astonishing effects produced by the powers of a single disciple of our 
 Saviour, who at one exhibition of his talents (endued with power from 
 on high, it is true) captivated three thousand, and made them his stated 
 attendants, which Mr. Mathews has never yet done, but much like 
 which he may do, if he can address by the same rule and speak the 
 same thing. 
 
 When I began this scrawl I had not measured out this drift, but, as 
 it has gone, so you will take it, as coming out of the right place — a good 
 and honest heart. What I intended to have said was this .—If you 
 should be disposed to hear a sermon, and should be able to reach 
 Boylston Hall in the afternoon, you may hear a preacher somewhat 
 after the fashion of your good old-fashioned father, whose memory I 
 revere, and whom I should gladly serve in the person of his son. May 
 a gracious Providence preserve you from all evil, and in due time 
 restore you to your country and to your family, and add to you every 
 other blessing for both worlds ! prays, my dear sir. 
 
 Yours respectfully and affectionately, James Sabine. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews, 
 
 New York, Feb. 7th, 1823. 
 Here I am once more in New York, at my old quarters, comfortably 
 lodged. I left Boston on Sunda}^ and arrived here yesterday, two 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 283 
 
 hundred and forty miles. Thermometer eight degrees below zero ! 
 Most fortunately, a gentleman (reall}' a gentleman) and his wife,* a 
 colonel, and naval officer, had hired a coach to themselves. I was 
 invited to johi the party. Chartering a stage-coach here is the only 
 imitation the Americans have of posting. It means merel}'^, that you 
 keep out all passengers by paying for the whole coach, and stop when 
 and where you like. No language can convey to you the horrors of 
 travelling in this country. Though their winters are like Siberia, 
 because their summers are like the East Indies, they only provide them- 
 selves against heat. I don't believe there is a carriage in the country 
 covered all over so as to keep out the air. All descriptions of carriages 
 are open in summer, and they have only temporary covering for winter. 
 No panels like ours. It is impossible, therefore, to be warm. The 
 houses, generally speaking, are of the same description. I slept in a 
 bed on the road without even posts for curtains — a regular hospital-bed ; 
 but not so good as those in St. George's Hospital. There was no fire- 
 place in the room. When I arose in the morning, I was obliged to call 
 one of our party to button my waistcoat, my fingers were completely 
 frost-bitten. With all this the atmosphere is delightfully cheering ; an 
 Italian sky, and days without even a cloud. You know how valuable 
 this is to me, and when I can be in action I bear the climate well. 
 The wretched English who have been lured here, and have not the 
 means of getting back, are pictures of misery and despair. The second 
 and third year is sure to make inroads on their constitution. They all 
 bear the first summer and winter well. I am much delighted to find 
 Elliston has been so attentive to you. 
 
 I enclose you a bill for 2000Z. sterling, which I wish to be sent to 
 Rowland Stephenson the moment you receive it. I wrote you by the 
 1st February packet to apprise you of the note to Arnold for 1200/. 
 being due in March .f It is to be taken out of the sum inclosed. I 
 send this directed to Mr. Freeling; and, by the time I get your 
 acknowledgment of it, I shall be thinking of moving towards Europe. 
 God bless you and my dear boy, 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 The following letter to his friend, Mr. James Smith, gives a 
 lively view of what my husband had observed in his American 
 tour : — 
 
 To James Smith, Esq. 
 
 Philadelphia, Feb. 23rd, 1823. 
 
 My dear Smith, — I Imagine by this time you begin to be a little 
 
 impatient, and perhaps anxious to hear from me, though I must suppose 
 
 you have made every allowance for my apparent neglect. You have 
 
 doubtless heard of the calamitous circumstances under which I landed 
 
 * Mr. and Mrs. W. H. Eliot of Boston. 
 + It will be remembered that Mr. Mathews had engaged to pay Mr. Arnold 
 2000^., besides au additional season, for his permission to visit Amex-ica. 
 
28^ THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OP 
 
 in this country, and you will readily believe that it was a most unpro* 
 pitious time to extract anything like fun or humour from the natives, 
 even had they possessed as much as the Irish. America was, at the 
 time of my arrival, a huge hospital, and conversation a mere medical 
 report. My " commercial speculations" have been completely deranged, 
 and though not destroyed, very materially injured. It was not till the 
 frost set in, that I could discover even a smile on any of the naturally 
 saturnine grave visages of the natives. You may suppose that I was 
 not much disposed to mirth myself, or to draw it from others, during 
 such a visitation. This has naturally tended to delay me in those 
 observations which I should otherwise have immediately commenced^ 
 on the habits and peculiarities of the Americans. At the same time it 
 is my belief, that had I arrived after a successful war, and during 
 rejoicings for peace, instead of days of mourning and sickness, I should 
 not have discovered much more of merriment of character, humour, or 
 any one ingredient of which I was in search, and which is now, in 
 fact, the chief motive of my longer stay in the country. 
 
 It will require all your ingenuity, all your fancy (and more than ever 
 I possessed), to find real materials in this country for a humorous 
 entertainment. There is such a universal sameness of manner and 
 character, so uniform a style of walking and looking, of dressing and 
 thinking, that I really think I knew as much of them in October as I 
 know of them now in February. The real unadulterated natives are 
 only one remove from the Quakers : they never joke themselves, and 
 they cannot see it in others. They would stare at you as a white 
 wonder ; and be perfectly amazed how any man under a hundred yeara 
 of age, could possibly have collected so many good jokes, for they 
 would be utterly incredulous that a man could utter his own wit. As 
 they have never seen such people, they are not obliged to believe that 
 they exist. If I excelled in narrative, and were a lecturer, allowed to 
 be occasionally grave, I could find infinite variety of materials to dwell 
 upon, and rather amusing too; but as I feel perfect conviction that I 
 am never amusing without I assume the manner of another, I know 
 not how to suggest matter for comic effects, out of mere observations. 
 I should be very much inclined to remove many prejudices that exist 
 between the two countries, and most anxious to do justice to the upper 
 orders of people. They are well informed, polite, hospitable, unaffected, 
 I can truly say, that I have never experienced more attentions in my 
 own country. I do not believe, at least, I cannot discover, that they 
 differ at all from the polished people of the same rank in England. 
 They do not certainly approach to the ease and finish of our upper 
 ranks. I should feel equally disposed to scourge, to flagellate, to score 
 to the backbone, all the middling and lower orders. They are as in- 
 finitely beneath the notions that Europeans entertain of them, as their 
 superiors are above them. Not merely sullen and cold, but studiously 
 rude. This 1 have no hesitation in saying. The stage-driver says, 
 *' Yes, sir" and " no, sir" to the ostler, but to a question from a 
 person who has a clean neckcloth, he instantly draws up, and, in the 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 285 
 
 most repulsive manner, answers, " No," " ay," or " very well." The 
 upper orders are literally slaves to the lower. The poorest people in 
 the country will submit to exist in the most miserable manner, with 
 their families, rather than any one of them should be degraded by 
 servitude. The consequence is, that all the menial situations are filled 
 by negroes (niggers), and Irish and Scotch. This constitutes the great 
 difficulty in picking up anecdote, character, or anything that would be 
 called peculiarity, in Ireland or Scotland; even in dialect, the same 
 disappointment follows the attempt. All that is attributed by foreigners 
 to the English appears to belong to the Americans, but with exag- 
 gerations — reserve, coldness, monotony, &c. The gravity of the upper 
 orders, which is by no means displeasing, becomes perfect unkindness 
 (to make use of no stronger expression) inthe middling orders; for though 
 I have used the term lower, I hardly know who they are, where they are, 
 or how they exist. They appear to me to be too proud even to be seen. 
 Not one American have I yet seen waiting at table, or in any situation 
 where he might run the risk of being called servant. This is common- 
 place to you, I am aware, but I mean to assure you that the tourists 
 have not exaggerated it : they are all within the mark. . 
 
 You will from this perceive what difficulty I have to discover cha- 
 racter or peculiarities. If I enter into conversation with a coachman, 
 he is Irish ; if a fellow brings me a note, he is Scotch. If I call a 
 porter, he is a negro. I can't come at the American without I go to 
 the porter-houses, and that I cannot condescend to do. There are no 
 phrases, no intonations, and no instances of bad pronunciation, false 
 grammar, or incorrect English, that I cannot trace to be of English 
 origin. Yorkshire, Somersetshire, and above all, London, have supplied 
 them most copiously. Here arises another difficulty. The impression 
 would be, that there is no novelty in this — this has been done before — • 
 these are English characters. A week in Ireland would supply more 
 drollery than twelve months here. Then again, all persons are dressed 
 alike, nobody well-dressed, no one shabby. The judge, the barrister, 
 the shopkeeper, the President, the member of Congress, the mechanic, 
 the servant, without the slightest variation. Even in the courts of 
 justice there is no distinction of ranks. The judge in the shabby blue 
 coat and striped waistcoat, that the tipstaff wears. Now, I feel per- 
 fectly satisfied that my audience would yawn at this description of the 
 people, even if it could boast of the recommendation of novelty. The 
 Yankee is a term given by all the inhabitants of the other parts of the 
 United States to those of the east exclusively. The larger cities boast 
 of superiority in every respect, and speak of the Rhode Islander, and 
 the Massachusetts-man, exactly as the English speak of all Americans, 
 and have a contempt for a Yankee. 
 
 I have just come from Boston in the latter State, and certainly I 
 liave discovered more of character there than in the cities of New York, 
 Baltimore, or Philadelphia, where the language, generally, is better 
 spoken than in London, or any part of England. I quite agree with 
 you in your remarks, that a journal is necessary on a tour, but I doubt 
 
28Q THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 its nse in America.* "The court of justice" is dulness itself. The 
 Quakers' meeting would be a better subject, if the Quakers talked as 
 much as the counsellors; and this again would be Westminster Hall 
 on an uninteresting day, without wigs. The " travellers" I have acted 
 upon. But there is no " travellers' room" at an inn. All travellers of 
 every description are shown into the same room, and silence reigns 
 amidst the smoke of cigars. The only notions I have had (droll to 
 say) is a coach scene " a la diligence." Some of the summer dresses 
 would be new to the English. Negro women dressed like Quakers — 
 very common here. A very fat negro, with whom I met, driving a 
 stage-coach (which are almost as peculiar as the French), and urging 
 his horses by different tunes on a tiddle, while he ingeniously fastened 
 the reins round his neck. This would give an opportunity for the 
 only costume which differs from that of our own country, the summer 
 dress. With respect to songs, I really fear that I shall hardly be able 
 to suggest subjects. The onl}'- striking subject for a patter songf is 
 the inordinate love of title ; a remarkable instance of the weakness and 
 inconsistency of these simple republicans. Though the honour of 
 knighthood bestowed on their President, even if he were a Washington, 
 would rouse the country into a civil war, they are more ridiculously 
 ostentatious of the petty titles that are recognised than any people 
 under the sun. There is not any regular military establishment ; a 
 militia is kept up by occasional drillings, &c. ; and, in case of war, this 
 is their only effective force. The officers, therefore, are composed of all 
 ranks of persons; and whether they have actually served or not, 
 whether retired or in present exercise, they tenaciously exact their 
 titles. On every road, even at the meanest pothouse, it is common to 
 call out, " Major, bring me a glass of toddy !" " Captain Obis, three 
 segars, and change for a dollar !" " Why are we so long changing 
 horses, colonel?" This was addressed to our coachman — a fact! 
 " Why, Achilles is gone to get one of the horses shod, but the Major 
 is a good hand, he'll soon clap four shoes on." — "Othello, run to 
 Captain Smith's for a pound of cheese." 
 
 I heard at New York — " Colonel Hunter, your bread is by no means 
 so good as that you baked at the beginning of the year." " Sheriff, 
 your health." "Judge, a glass of wine." " Counsellor, allow me to 
 send you some beef." They are chiefly remarkable for accenting the 
 wrong syllable, in (engiwe, genume,J enquiry. Located is in g neral 
 use ; approbated, ultlmated, &c.) " Admire," is to have an inclination 
 to do anything, as, " I should admire to skate to-day."§ " Ugly" 
 means ill-tempered. " It is a pity such a pretty woman should be so 
 
 * His own extraordinary memory rendered a journal unnecessary ; his memo- 
 randa were to be found only on the "written tablets of the brain." 
 
 t A patter-song means one of those for which he was so celebrated, with 
 speaking between every verse, 
 
 X All the expressions with the ( ) are used at the bar and in the pulpit. 
 
 § Admire is used in the same sense in our county of Suffolk. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 287 
 
 ugly" If they speak of a "plain woman" they say she is moful. 
 " Clever" is good-natured — as, " He's a clever fellow, but a damned 
 fool." " Considerable," in the general sense, but as an adverb — as, 
 " He is considerable rich." " Guess" is always used in cases where no 
 doubt exists : — " 1 guess I have a headache." " Servants" are called 
 helps. " Slick" is nice. " A sliclc potato." " He did it slickee" 
 (cleverly) ; and " slick right away." " My wife died slick right away" 
 — that is, she went off pleasantly, but suddenly. " That is a little too 
 damned bad ;" " a little grain of water." " Progress," used as a verb 
 — as, " I guess our western States j^rogress very fast ;" i.e., improve. 
 " Ad/wiVable is generally said. The particle to is very generally used 
 (not by learned persons) after a verb — as, " I guess it's a fine day. 
 Will you take a walk ?" " I should admire to" or, " I have no 
 occasion to." " When you were to Boston ?" " Have you been out in 
 the rain ?" — " Yes, but I had not ought to." 
 
 The follovving dialogue was furnished me by an ear-witness, who 
 knew my desire to collect : — " Anything new to-day, Mr. B. ?" — " I 
 guess I have not heard anything." — How's your lady ?" — " Nicely. 
 She progresses fast under Dr. A. She comes on slick, and grows 
 quite fleshy." — " How's Miss Sabrina ?" — " She's quite good (well). 
 She's afoine girl." — " I think she is, though she's rather awful." — " I 
 never saw her ugly in my lite, and if she had but a pretty face, she'd 
 be complete ! Real !" — ** Have you taken her to the theayter yet ?" — 
 " I hadn't ought to." — " Why ?" — " I guess I can't afford it." — " Is not 
 Mathews a favoW^e of yours?" — "Not by no manner of means. I 
 wish he'd take himself off." — "I reckon he'll take us off when he's at 
 home in his own country again." — " He won't dare to. We would not 
 suffer that there." — " He's a smart fellow" (applied to any talent) ; 
 " but I like a steady actor, as gives us time to admire him, and find out 
 his beauties." 
 
 They use the word raised for born, or erecting a building : — 
 " Where were you raised ?" — " In Virginia." " I guess you have 
 considerable hogs and niggers P" — " Yes, we have plenty of them black 
 cattle." " Will you come and take a little grain of brandy, or whisky ?" — 
 " I should admire to, for I'm considerable thirsty ; but I must first go 
 and speak to the gentleman as looks after my nags." " Where does 
 your horse keep?" — "At Colonel Crupper's livery-stables." "I guess 
 the colonel has pretty damned bad help ?" — " The ostler as tends the 
 stable is a spry likely lad ?" " Yes; he's spry and well-looking, but 
 pretty ugly." — " I don't mind his ugliness. If he showed me any of 
 it, I'd make him clear out pretty damned quick." " You'll find me at 
 Sampson's grog-shop, I guess. You won't be long ?" — " I'm coming 
 right back. Tell Sampson to put a little grain of bitters in my brandy." 
 
 The strongest character is the landlord of an inn. He is the 
 most independent person in America. You must be impressed with 
 the idea that he confers a i'avour upon you, or it is in vain to expect 
 any accommodation. He can't be caricatured ; I won't spare him an 
 inch. He is, too, the most insolent rascal I* ever encountered; he is 
 
288 THE LIFE AND COKRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 the double-distilled of those qualities I described as appertaining- to the 
 middling orders. Here I can personate to advantage. It will be my 
 main-stay, my sheet-anchor. I have already three or four distinct 
 specimens of the same species. The effect will depend more on manner 
 than matter. Par exemple. If you arrive at the inn, the regular 
 system of inattention and freezing indifference is instantly apparent. 
 No one appears. You enter the house, and search about for a landlord 
 or waiter. Probably you pass the former, but fearing he may be the 
 Judge or the Governor of the State, you are afraid to address him. 
 You find a nigger — no mistaking him. " Where's your master ?" (A 
 black look). " Dat Missa Rivers." 
 
 The following little dialogue took place with me. I respectfully 
 solicited a room for myself and friend (an Englishman, who, like myself, 
 was aware of the manners and customs, and hoped to be annoyed, for 
 the sake of others " At Home.") " Can we have a private room ?" " I 
 guess you can, if there isnt nobody in it." — Mathews. " Can we have 
 some dinner?" Landlord. "Dinner! why, we've dined these two 
 hours ! It's four o'clock !" (All ranks dine at a table- d'hote). 
 Mathews. "Still, we have had no dinner; perhaps, sir, you would 
 oblige us ?" Landlord. " I suspect, rather, we've something left as we 
 had for our dinner. But you should have come sooner if you wanted 
 to dine ; this is no time for dinner, after everybody's done. It puts one's 
 helps out of the way." — Mathews. " Well, sir, the help will be paid 
 for his trouble ; therefore try your best for us." A Hottentot Adonis 
 appeared, with his sleeves tucked up to his shoulders (thermometer 90°), 
 an effluvia arising from his ebony skin, that he ingeniously overpowered 
 by one of greater power from a leg of lamb. — Mathews. " Any port 
 wine ?" " Yes, massa, berry good a wine." — Mathews. " Bring a 
 bottle." A bottle of mulled Day and Martin was brought. — " Any 
 ice?" "Not to-day, massa; none in Elizabeth Town; a can't get a 
 any Sudday" (Sunday). At this moment enters mine host, who takes 
 a chair, and sits down with his hat on and a segar in his mouth, and 
 inquires who we are — where we are going, &c. " Colonel Gympentike 
 and Major Foozle, going to Bristol." — Mathews. " Your wine is very 
 hot." Landlord. " Why, I don't know for that; it keeps in the bar." 
 — Mathews. " Have you no cellar ?" Landlord. " I suppose I have, 
 but not for that. It's always in the bar right an end." — Mathews. 
 " It's rather thick ; have you had it long ?" Landlord. " Three 
 weeks and a bit. I fetched it in my chay myself from Philadelphee, a 
 little while back." 
 
 At four in the morning a messenger arrived in the mail, who inquired 
 for me, having a letter for me from a friend, advising me to fly, as the 
 fever, he knew, was in Elizabeth Town. Mine host guessed 1 was the 
 man, and entered my room with a candle. Landlord. " A letter for 
 you, I reckon." — 3iathews. "Did the messenger tell you to give it 
 me in the middle of the night ?— Landlord. "I guess he did not. It 
 was my own contrivance." — Mathews. " It is an odd hour to wake a 
 man." — Landlord. I guess I did the right thing, and that there is 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 289 
 
 always propriety. Whatever you perform, fulfil that right away." I 
 was so tickled that I said: "You're a pleasant man ; how's your wife?" 
 Landlord. "Why, she's tolerable well, but jore^^^/jooor" (very thin). 
 — Mathews. " Well, I shall not get up until eight or nine, therefore 
 adieu ! thou lovely youth. I must still think it was very extraordinary 
 to disturb me." Landlord. " Ah, I don't mind remarks when I fulfils 
 propriety. I'm an honest man, and I presumes I have done the right 
 thing, and then remarks is equal. I am a docile man in church and 
 state." — Exit with candle. 
 
 Another instance, lately in my journey from Boston to New York ; 
 nearly the same dialogue, but a different-looking being, a dear little 
 punchy fellow, with a hat as large as a tea-board, and such a tail ! He 
 was just going to bed, and when we asked for supper, he said, 
 " Why, we have supped these three hours ; what made you come to- 
 night ?" But this interview requires personation, and is one of the 
 few instances of originality. 
 
 I shall be rich in black fun. I have studied their broken English 
 carefully. It is pronounced the real thing, even by the Yankees. Itf 
 is a pity that I dare not touch upon a preacher. I know its danger, 
 but perhaps the absurdity might give a colour io it — a black Methodist ! 
 I have a specimen from life, which is relished highly in private. A 
 leetle bit you shall have. By the by, they call the nigger meetings 
 " Black Brimstone Churches." " My wordy bredren, it a no use to 
 come to de meetum-house to ear de most hellygunt orashions if a no 
 put a de cent into de plate ; de spiritable man cannot get a on widout de 
 temporalities ; twelve 'postles must hab de candle to burn. You dress a 
 self up in de fine blue a cot, and a bandalore breechum, and tink a look 
 like a gemman, but no more like a gemman dan put a finger in de fire, 
 and take him out again, widout you put a de money in a de plate. He 
 lend a to de poor, lend to de Law (Lord), if you like a de secoority 
 drop a de cents in to de box. My sister in a de gallery too dress em 
 up wid de poke a de bonnet, and de furbellow-tippet, and look in de 
 glass and say, * Pretty Miss Phyllis, how bell I look !' but no pretty in 
 de eye of the Law (Lord) widout a drop a cent in de plate. My friend 
 and bredren, in my endeavour to save you, I come across de bay in de 
 stim a boat. I never was more shock dan when I see de race a horse a 
 rubbin down. No fear o' de Law afore dere eye on de Sabbat a day, 
 ben I was tinking of de great enjawment my friend at a Baltimore was to 
 have dis night, dey rub a down de horse for de use of de debbil. Twix 
 you and I, no see what de white folk make so much fun of us, for when 
 dey act so foolish demselve, dey tink dey know ebery ting, and dat we 
 poor brack people know noting at all amose (almost). Den shew dem 
 how much more dollars you can put in de plate dan de white meetum- 
 houses. But, am sorry to say, some of you put three cent in a plate, . 
 and take a out a quarter a dollar. What de say ven you go to hebben ? 
 Dey ask you what you do wid de twenty-two cent you take out of de 
 plate when you put in de tree cent ? what you go do den ?" 
 
 I have several specimens of these black gentry that I can bring into 
 
290 THE LIFE. AND COERESPONDENCE OF 
 
 playi and particularly scraps of songs, and malaprops, such as Maho- 
 metan below Caesar (Thermometer below zero), &c. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Oh ! love is like de pepper-corn, 
 
 It makes me act so cute ; 
 It make de bosoms feel so warm, 
 
 And eye shine like new boot ! 
 I meet Miss Phillis tudder day 
 
 In berry pensive mood — 
 She almost cry her eyes away 
 
 For Pomp's ingratitude. 
 
 Oh, lubby brushing maid, said I, 
 
 What makee look so sad ? 
 Ah, Scip ! de brooteous virgin cry, 
 
 I feel most debblish bad ! 
 For Pomp he stole my heart away, 
 
 Me taught him berry good ; 
 But he no lub me now he say ! 
 
 Chah ! what ingratitude ! 
 
 I can no more j but you shall hear again shortly from. 
 
 Yours most truly, C. Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Philadelphia, Feb. 25th, 1823. 
 
 I have an opportunity of sending rather a larger packet than I should 
 despatch by post, by a gentleman of Philadelphia, whom I hereby 
 introduce to your notice as well worthy of your civilities. I have 
 received attentions from him in the way of little acts of kindness, for 
 which I am very grateful. 
 
 He set me on my journey to New York, as they say in Old York, 
 and rode twenty miles with me to keep up my spirits when I first went 
 there. It will, doubtless, be a satisfaction to you to hear an account 
 from any eye-witness of my brilliant reception here last night, in the 
 midst of a snow-storm that would have driven English people away 
 from the theatre, like a flock of wild geese. 
 
 Price has come on with me, like a good fellow, to take care of me ; 
 and I am at a peculiar sort of a house, for America, where I am really 
 comfortable — a rarer word here than in France. 
 
 Mr. Wain will describe to you the nature of the establishment. It 
 is nearer the English mark than any house in the country ; and there 
 is plenty of water, thank Heaven! The regular allowance of an 
 American inn is about a pint daily, with one towel nine inches square, 
 and one remove only from India paper. 
 
 I have written a long letter, as you will see, to Smith. Notwith- 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 291 
 
 standing the nature of the letter I have written to him, I do not despair 
 of a good entertainment being formed from my trip. 
 
 The auction at Boston will show the extraordinary prices given for 
 boxes. It was made a wonder of in Kean. Observe that the biddings 
 were for choice of boxes. If a man wished to get No. 4 as the best 
 box for hearing, he bids 12 dollars, and the box holds 9 — a dollar for 
 each seat, so that his box costs 21 dollars. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 New York, May 15th, 1823. 
 
 It is my intention to embark hence on Sunday the 24th, in the 
 packet-ship Meteor, Captain Cobb, and hope to be at home, please God ! 
 before my birthday, the 28th of. June. Since I wrote to you last I 
 have received your journal up to the 5th of April, exposing to me for 
 the first time the wretched state of health to which you have been 
 doomed in my absence. Indeed, indeed, I sympathise most sincerely 
 with you, and grieve most truly that I have been, though the innocent, 
 yet the real cause of your sufferings by my unfortunate expedition. 
 Oh ! my prophetic soul ! I may say ; for I always declared that the 
 most severe pang at the calamity here was the perfect conviction of the 
 shock it would be to your nerves. I trust that your well-meant and 
 kind deception is not carried on now ; and that I may flatter myself 
 with the hope that I shall find you, as you say, quite restored to health. 
 God grant it may be so ! 
 
 I am quite resolved now on my course. No advantage under heaven 
 should induce me to inflict so cruel a penalty upon you as a journey to 
 Liverpool. You must be convinced of my entire ignorance of your 
 state of health, when I even hinted at it. No ; the moment I arrive 
 at Liverpool I will write to you and inform you of the time of my 
 probable arrival at home. I have written to Lewis again, by the 
 Columbia, and informed him of my new determination. So now, my 
 dearest wife, I have nothing to add, but that as my prayers have been 
 unceasing for your health and happiness, they will be redoubled for our 
 happy, happy meeting, and the entire restoration of your health. I 
 am astonished how you could get through such laborious letters, and 
 the ingenuity of your innocent deceit throughout. What a deceitful 
 pair we have been ! At the very time you were laying your plans, I 
 was plotting here ; but I have never been deceived in my feelings and 
 my forebodings. I possess the gift of second sight, if anybody ever 
 did. If I wanted anything to endear Charles to me more strongly 
 than ever, it is his conduct towards you. God will bless him for it. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 u2 
 
292 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 Mr. Matiiews at New York in the character of Othello — Success of the attempt 
 — Anticipation by the Americans that Mr. Mathews would, on his return to 
 England, ridicule their peculiarities — Public dinner given to him — Letter 
 from Mr. Theodore Hook to Mr. Mathews — Mr. Mathews's engagement to 
 perform in the regular drama : his journey to Dublin — Letter to Mrs. 
 Mathews : a stage-coach nuisance — Mr. Mathews's dislike of idle visitors — 
 Letters to Mi-s. Mathews : arrival at Seapoint; success at Dublin. 
 
 About the middle of May, Mr. Mathews was induced to appear 
 at New York in the character of Othello, which he had studied 
 for the occasion. What led him to perform such a part I totally 
 forget, although I have some indistinct recollection that it was 
 in consequence of a wager made by Mr. Price. Strange to say, 
 the attempt was received with great applause, and being very 
 attractive, was several times repeated. I have found the first 
 and second bill of this performance. On both those nights the 
 tragedy was followed by the farce of " The Prize," in which he 
 played Lenitive. 
 
 The following remarks, which appeared in America, on the 
 performance, ought to find a place here : — 
 
 The performance of last evening we consider one of the most extra- 
 ordinary we ever witnessed. It will hardly be credited that Mr. 
 Mathews most completely succeeded in the arduous character of 
 Othello I We could not conceive that an actor, whose forte has been 
 considered till now all comic, could so far divest himself of his humorous 
 peculiarities, as to convey to his audience a very chaste, correct, pleasing, 
 and even aifecting picture of the unhappy Moor. In Mr. Mathews' 
 delivery of the text there was everything to applaud ; in his action, 
 nothing to condemn. To the business of the scene he was throughout 
 most attentive, and in the third, fourth, and last acts, he afforded the 
 most complete triumph of skill we have ever witnessed. The cele- 
 brated address to the duke and senators was judiciously given, with an 
 air of modest firmness extremely pleasing; and to all the splendid 
 j)assages which stud this beautiful tragedy, Mr. Mathews gave additional 
 effect, by the simple eloquence of his delivery, and the correctness of 
 his readings. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWa 293 
 
 The following sensible remarks, which seem to anticipate that 
 Mr. Mathews was likely to take away with him, for home-con- 
 sumption, some characteristics of the Americans, appeared in 
 America, just on the eve of his departure. 
 
 On Monday evening this extraordinary actor takes leave of the 
 American audience, to return to the comforts of his home and family, 
 and to those friends and associates which many years of professional 
 services and an unquestionable character and deportment have acquired 
 for him. He returns with profit, if not with improvement ; and though 
 it may be expected that some of our national peculiarities will form the 
 subject of future entertainments, we are persuaded that he has discerned 
 some traits worthy his esteem and respect. We should not complain if 
 these peculiarities are presented in a rational and amusing way to an 
 English audience ; for Mathews has been entertaining us with many 
 amusing hits and laughable absurdities at the expense of his own 
 countrymen. We have, therefore, no right to expect an exemption 
 from these professional sallies and satires. 
 
 As a tribute of respect, a public farewell dinner was given to 
 him. The following notice of it appeared : — 
 
 To-day, a party of Mr. Mathews's friends give him a dinner at 
 Sykes's Coffee-house. We have no doubt it will be a splendid one, as 
 Mr. Sykes has been several days preparing for it. Tickets for this 
 dinner only 10 dollars each ! — a mere trifle ! 
 
 By the active friendship of Mr. Freeling, I received the earliest 
 information of my husband's approach to JEngland, and I set off, 
 accompanied by Charles, to Liverpool, where we arrived some 
 days earlier than Mr. Mathews, who landed about the 23rd of 
 June, in high health and spirits. 
 
 To G. Mathews, Esq. 
 
 Putney, Sunday evening. 
 
 Deae Mat., — Ever since I saw a note of yours to Powell, in vvhich 
 you call me Theodorus, I have been longing to get over to you ; but, 
 well awai-e of the perpetual engagements of men in your extremely 
 idle profession, I have thought of rehearsals and " recollections ;" and 
 being some nine or ten miles from you, it would be rash to risk the 
 journey on so slender a chance of catching you at home. 
 
 I take this opportunity — it may seem somewhat late — of congratu- 
 lating you upon your return to England, after a series, if one may 
 judge by the newspapers, of worries and dangers. I confess I long to 
 talk over your marine adventures ; and, as I suppose there would be no 
 chance of getting you here, if you will tell me any morning when you 
 will be cJiez vous, except Tuesday or Thursday, I will drive over and 
 breakfast with you — if you will let me. 
 
 I cannot look back to old times — my first days in the world, my dear 
 
294 THE LIFE AND COERESPONDENCE OF 
 
 Mat, without a mixture of pleasure and sorrow; and now, that seven- 
 teen years have rolled over our heads (and rubbed almost all the hair 
 off mine) I own I am anxious once more to shake you by the hand. 
 
 I enclose Mrs. Mathews two sketches of myself at different periods, 
 in order that, seeing what I was, she may not start with horror at 
 seeing what I am. You will, I dare say, recognise the genteel one, 
 which is done after your imitation of me. Pray, make my best re- 
 membrances to her ; and, if Twig (Lord, when I remember him as I 
 do !) is with you, to him also. 
 
 You hate paying postage for nonsense — revenge yourself by writing 
 me an answer; and so, my dear Mat, good night, and God bless you. 
 
 Yours always, Theodoee Hook. 
 
 On Mr. Mathews's return to London, he entered upon an 
 engagement at the English Opera-house to perform in the drama. 
 He met with a most enthusiastic welcome, and attracted crowded 
 houses. During this period he performed the characters of 
 Monsieur Tonson, Caleb Quofem, and some other old favourites 
 with the town, prefacing his dramatic performance with one of 
 his mono-dramatic pieces, "The Polly Packet." 
 
 At the close of the English Opera-house, the following allusion 
 to Mr. Mathews's late performance was made in the farewell 
 speech of the season, delivered by Mr. Bartley : — 
 
 The first appearance of Mr. Mathews in the drama for six years has 
 been greeted with a warmth of feeling bordering on enthusiasm ; and 
 the proprietor therefore congratulates himself on having been able to 
 afford this welcome treat to the town, prior to an exhibition of the rich 
 fund of character and anecdote which the quick perception, acute 
 observation, and brilHant humour of that gentleman, has furnished for 
 the budget of his next campaign, during his late trip to America. 
 
 Having concluded this engagement, Mr. Mathews proceeded 
 to fulfil one in Dublin, for a month ; prior to his return to town, 
 in order to prepare for his re-appearance " At Home," in a new 
 entertainment to be called his " Trip to America." 
 
 My husband could not patiently sit out a morning visit. He 
 never took up anybody's time in this way, or what is termed 
 called upon his most intimate friend. On such occasions in his 
 own house, if he was caught, as he called it, by mere idlers, 
 he would sit silent during their stay, leaving them upon my 
 hands, unless directly appealed to, for he had no small-talk, 
 neither could he tolerate commonplace, nor had he an 
 ear for useless unprofitable remarks, and a truism almost 
 offended him. Yet he loved trifling upon occasions, and in- 
 dulged in it most amusingly. Newsmongers did not recom- 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 295 
 
 mend themselves to him ; scandal he disdained and would not 
 listen to, for he literally closed his hearing on the very first hint 
 of it, by turning his face away, and, unperceived by the vendor, 
 placing his fingers against the portals of his ears. This he did 
 during vehement and causeless laughter. An angry voice or a 
 cough was acutely felt by that delicate, and, in his case, painfully 
 fastidious organ. 
 
 Yet bored as he felt, and sullen as he appeared with such 
 visitors during their stay, the moment he saw them departing, 
 his good-nature and innate sense of propriety prevailed over 
 personal inconvenience, and he would suddenly relent, and in- 
 variably follow them into the hall, and begin a sort of conversa- 
 tion, detaining them in the most agreeable manner, even against 
 his own wish, from the dread of having hurt their feelings by his 
 neglect during their visit. 
 
 Wiien we removed to London, the space between the entrance 
 to the interior of the house being so much shorter than from the 
 gate to the porch of the cottage, people were apt to surprise him 
 sometimes before he could say nay. This disconcerted him 
 during the whole morning. After some time, I caused a middle 
 door to be placed in the hall, intercepting his library, and con- 
 trived to have an eyelet-hole made in one corner of it, with a 
 piece of plate-glass artfully inserted, so that when a bore knocked 
 at a time positively unwelcome or inconvenient to listen to his 
 gentle dulness, my husband would peep through the glass, and 
 by silence exclude him ; the signal for the servant admitting any 
 person was the tinkle of a little silver bell by Mr. Mathews. By 
 this little stratagem I saved him many an uncomfortable hour, 
 though then I was not aware how vitally important it was for 
 him at this period to be guarded from annoyance. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Dublin, Sept. 29tli, 1823. 
 I arrived at Dunleary early this morning, making the passage in 
 twelve hours and a half, within half an hour of the quickest ever 
 performed. The weather was beautiful and calm, and the voyage 
 delightful. I am settled at Seapoint, with a tilbury and gig, " and 
 all that sort of thing," ready to convey me to Dublin — " and every- 
 thing in the world." I could not get the whole of my luggage over in 
 one vessel, and should not have got even a part in the St. George, had 
 I not entreated with uplifted hands and tears in my eyes. I am 
 obliged, therefore, to postpone my appearance until Thursday. The 
 weather is divine, and you know how important that is to me. The 
 view from Seapoint is enchanting. We had only two hundred hay- 
 makers on board, who kicked up such a bobbery that it was quite a 
 
296 THE LIFE AND COEEESPONDENCE OF 
 
 burlesque to attempt sleeping, as all those confessed who tried. I sat 
 up with three or four choice spirits, and we laughed at their simplicity ; 
 but I am no sufferer, thank God ! being in such rude health, that 
 " How fat you are !" has been my reception hitherto. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Seapoint, Oct. 8rd, 1823. 
 On Tuesday the sports began — my old Dublin tortures. Every house 
 I look at associates — postman — no letter — delay, &c. ; so often have I 
 been in suspense here. Pray write often. One single line yesterday, 
 just before I went on the stage, would have set me up for the night. 
 
 I opened last night, and with great success. My reception equal to 
 the English Opera first night. The Whist Song, a great hit ; " Croos- 
 keen Lawn," encored, and every Irish joke received with roars. This 
 shows great good-nature and liberality, certainly. I trembled for the 
 Whist Song,* and it was one of the most effective things. Everything 
 went off well. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 * The -whole of which he gave in a variety of brogues. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 297 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX] 
 
 Mr. Mathews's reluctance to give offence in his representation of Anierican 
 character — Letter on this subject from Mr. James Smith — Letters to Mrs. 
 Mathews ; Irish anecdotes : danger of suffocation : arrival in Wales — Mr. 
 Mathews's new entertainment, the '*Trip to America" — Account of tbe 
 performance. 
 
 If no other evidence of Mr. Mathews's consideration respecting 
 his forthcoming representation of American character had been 
 manifest, the following letter, in reply to his reluctance to give 
 offence, and his anxiety to bestow praise, would be sufficient to 
 convince the Americans how tenderly scrupulous my husband 
 felt of any mention that might be distasteful to the country 
 which had so recently treated him with kindness and attention. 
 Mr. Smith's letter was dictated by a business-like view of the 
 subject, unallied to the remotest prejudice on his own part, or a 
 desire to encourage it in others. As the author of the Enter- 
 ment, he was naturally anxious to seize upon those incidents and 
 characteristics best suited to interest and entertain, and he 
 thought it fair to proceed as he had previously done, when his 
 own country and countrymen were the subjects. 
 
 To C. Mathews, £Isq. 
 
 Oct. 4th, 1823. 
 
 Deae Mathews, — I think " General Jackson" will be a hit. Your 
 Anglo-Gallic will come well into play, and " Malbrook" is a taking air. 
 In the introduction, where you end by saying, *' A hundred verses, of 
 which I unfortunately only retain ten," say, " unfortunately (or perhaps 
 I should say fortunately/ )* This self-humility will cause you to be 
 exalted. I cannot agree with you as to the necessity of complimenting 
 the Americans, " The theatre," says Puff, in the Critic, " might be 
 made an admirable school of morality ; at present, however, I am sorry 
 to say, people go there chiefly for their diversion." In like manner, 
 
 * "GeneralJackson." In allusion to a ludicrous and almost interminable 
 song, sung by a Frenchman in America in praise of General Jackson, which 
 Mr. Mathews had forwarded to Mr. Smith to amuse him, and of which he 
 introduced a portion in the "Trip to America." 
 
298 THE LIFE AND COERESPONDENCE OF 
 
 the town comes to "Mathews at Home" for a laugh — at him, if he 
 fail, and with him if he succeed. I have no objection, however, to a 
 complimentary final speech ; something like this : — " May nothing 
 separate England and America but the billows of the Atlantic." That 
 will be going off with a bounce. Your having been hospitably received 
 in America is nothing to me, and worse than nothing to the audience. 
 You may have a private reason of your own, why two and two should 
 make six, but they will only make four, notwithstanding {Johnson 1), 
 
 And now, my good fellow, I will quote to you a case in point. Last 
 Saturday I dined at the Beefsteak Club. Charles Morris has a song 
 quizzing the Yankees, to the tune of " Yankee Doodle." He was asked 
 to sing it. To this he objected thus : — " Oh no, my dear boys, any- 
 thing else. It won't be safe." — "Why not safe ?" " Why, although 
 at my age it is not very likely that I shall ever revisit America, yet, if 
 I should, were my singing that song to get wind, the President might 
 make America decidedly uncomfortable to me." We all took our oaths 
 not to betray him. Whereupon, pointing up to a motto from Horace, 
 suspended over the fire-place, and ejaculating " Fides inter amicos" 
 with a mysterious air, he started off' with his song. On the following 
 day I met Washington Irving, and most treacherously divulged to him 
 the whole transaction, adding these words: "Now, pray don't tell this 
 to the President of the United States ; for, if you should, he would 
 make America devilish uncomfortable to Charles Morris." "No, I 
 wont," was his humane considerate reply. 
 
 Yours very truly, James Smith. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Seapoint, Oct. 15th, 1823. 
 As there is no post to-morrow, I write a few lines to say I am quite 
 well ; never better^ and all is well. 
 
 A little bit of Irish : — I desired to be called yesterday morning. I 
 was not obeyed. The man who waits on Elder and me was taken to 
 task for it. He said, *' I came into your room, sirr ; but you were 
 asleep, and so I did not call you." "If I had been awake, you would, 
 then ?" " I should, sirr." 
 
 Epitaph on a child six weeks old: — 
 
 I wonder what I was begun for, 
 Since I was so soon done for. 
 
 I rejoice to hear you are going on so well in planting, " God prosper 
 you, ma'am, in your endeaviours." My houses keep up to the mark. 
 I get from 501. to 70Z. per night. The " Polly Packet" a greater hit 
 than the other. Daniel O'Mourke an uproarious favourite. " Dis- 
 perse," a screech. Indeed, I have every reason to be more than 
 flattered, after Catalani's prodigious haul. 
 
 A lady here has a Dow Buckinghamish sort of heard. A gentle- 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 299 
 
 man to-day said, " It would be indelicate to mention it, though some- 
 body ought to tell her of it. I think I'll send her an anonymous 
 razor." The same lady was rather gummy about the ankles. The 
 man observed, " She has patent heels, to keep the dust out of her 
 shoes," &c. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Seapoint, Oct. 20th, 1823. 
 
 I wish you would write a line to James Smith, and ask if he received 
 the packet I sent him when he -was at Mr. Hope's, and when I may 
 expect some, for my anticipations as to the Entertainment begin to be 
 alarming. In former times I have been perfect in three or four songs 
 by the month of J!^ovember. I dined yesterday with Lord Combermere, 
 who has a house at Monkstown. We had a great laugh over the old 
 story of Major Johnson, and the bishop and the lion, I had a very 
 pleasant day — quite comfortable. Show me a bedroom, I'll swear to 
 people's habits who have furnished it. 
 
 I made an angry reply to a beggar-woman to-day : — " I have no 
 money." " Good luck to you, leave us a lock of your hair." Adieu ! 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Dublin, Oct. 20tb, 1823. 
 
 I am heauUfuUy well. Such divine weather I have never, seen for 
 so many days together in my life. I need not comment on the news 
 about Mitford.* 
 
 Houses keep up to the average I sent you, and everything is right. 
 I am in robust health, and, for me, good spirits. Am rather fatigued 
 with avoiding invitations, but am stout. I wander daily from four to 
 five hours alone, and revel in the solitude I so much prefer to talking. 
 I have hired a chariot for my play-nights. I seldom come home alone. 
 Last night a party of twelve of the boarders went to the theatre, and 
 returned to supper, very jolly, quite in my way. Then I can talk, 
 because I ought not, I suppose. A Galway gentleman here said, " I 
 shall go into the 32nd regiment ; I shall be nearer my brother, who is 
 in the 31st. "f 
 
 The following is a fact : — The present sheriff at his dinner, when 
 somebody proposed the Duke of Wellington's health — "The First 
 Captain of the Age" — actually gave out " The First Chaplain of the 
 Age !" He is a cutler, and when his health was proposed, a wag 
 whispered to the band, who had played appropriate tunes to the other 
 
 * Another of his honourable debtors. 
 + This anecdote has been introduced by Mr. Lever into '* Charles O'Malley," 
 and put into the mouth of the celebrated Dr. Morris Quill. 
 
SOO THE LIFE AND COEKESPONDENCE OF 
 
 toasts, to play " Terry heigho the Grinder /" which was done ! The 
 king shook hands with a peasant, when he was here, who said, " I'll 
 not wash that hand for a twelvemonth," One little bit at parting : — A 
 drunken fellow taken home by his friend, was challenged by another : 
 ** Who is that ? Where are you going ?" &c. " Why, I think your 
 friend has had too much ?" " Why, I think he had better have divided 
 it fairly, half to-day and half to-morrow." A watchman came up. 
 " How much has he drunk ?" said a by-stander. " A gallon at laste !" 
 " Then I take him into, custody for carrying off a gallon of liquor 
 without 3L.;permit !"' 
 
 Q. Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Liverpool, Nov. 4th, 1823. 
 
 As there are perils by land, as well as by sea, I think it is proper, 
 right, respectful, and dutiful, to inform you of my safe arrival here, 
 after a very narrow escape from smothering. Don't be alarmed — only 
 from human breaths. With three such brutes never did man travel ! 
 There was no possibility of getting a breath of air, but by quarrelling. 
 Not even the commonplace politeness of a coach-traveller was practised : 
 "Would it be agreeable to have this window up P" No, up it went ! 
 I watched them to sleep, stole it down. In a few minutes, up ! — and 
 down again ; and so on, without a word. Three great hulking rascals, 
 too, and afraid of cold, pretty dears! All Lancashire men of com- 
 merce ! I could make no impression. At last, when we stopped to 
 change liorses, I engaged an Irishman, who had been a brother in 
 affliction in the packet with me, and an outside passenger, to break the 
 window with his heel, which I paid for ; and thus I arrived alive. If I 
 can judge of physiognomy, which I had the opportunity of studying at 
 breakfast, at Chester,. I was suspected. I determined to put it out of 
 all doubt before we parted ; and when I was no longer doomed to keep 
 company^ in the boat crossing the Mersey, I asked the guard the price 
 of the glass, and paid for it, to the utter amazement of the calico- 
 printers.. The faces of the party would have been a subject for Wilkie ; 
 particularly the Irishman and the guard, who evidently had a perception 
 of the humorous.. 
 
 I was too much elated upon my landing, after such horrors, and the 
 sight of the dear little Welsh hats,, and the clean faces, and the com- 
 fortable appearance of a wretched Welsh town, and mixing with inha- 
 bitants where murder is unknown! to think. of expressing anything but 
 pleasure at being safe ; I therefore forgot to announce the receipt of 
 this renowned manuscript, this mysterious American packet, which has 
 made more noise than ever stupid negro song created before ; for it is 
 literally nothing else. It is the mountain and the mouse. I don't 
 know which was the greatest ass, the man who wrote it, or the man 
 that sent it. It would not have been tolerable without the excitement 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS, 301 
 
 of three weeks* expectation and suspense, "but with it, the reading was 
 an absolute affliction. But no matter, let that end. 
 
 I arrived here this morning, after fifteen hours, from Holyhead. It 
 would not have suited my poor little trembling wife. Three ferries had 
 I to cross to avoid Parkgate, — three of them ! and two in the dark ; 
 first, Bangor, then Conway, and then the Mersey. Luckily, the weather 
 was very fine. In wet weather I have no notion of so miserable a journey, 
 as that must be. I got here at seven o'clock, none the worse, thank 
 God ! I can say no more on the Mitford business than I did before. 
 Here's human nature ! What a piece of work is man ! How vil- 
 lanous in conception ! how deformed in all his propensities ! how base 
 to his fellow man ! how doubly base to a woman ! 
 
 This is a drunken-looking letter on reading it over ; but four hours' 
 sleep have not recovered me, strong as I am, from the last four days' 
 real fatigue and anxiety. I 2m. ferry tired. God love and preserve my 
 dearest wife for her affectionate husband, 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 On March 25tli, Mr. Mathews performed his new Entertain- 
 ment at the English Opera-house, called, as the bill of the night 
 will show, his 
 
 TEIP TO AMERICA. 
 
 Part I. — Exordium. — Tourists. — Embarking on Board the William 
 TJiompson. — Speaking Trumpet. — Whimsical Coincidence of Names. 
 — Yellow Fever. — In Sight of New York. — Land at Hoboken. — New 
 Brunswick. — English Importations. — Jack Topham and his Cousin 
 Bray. — Waterloo Hotel, Liverpool, contrasted with Washington Hotel, 
 Elizabeth Town. — ^ American Phrases expounded. — Cool Landlord. — 
 Hot Wine. — Arrival at Bristol (in America). — First Appearance at 
 Baltimore. — Philadelphia. — Steam-boat and Stage-coach Characters.-— 
 Arrival at New York. 
 
 Song — Mrs. BradisTis Boarding House. 
 
 More Characters. — American Fun. — Mr. Raventop, the American 
 Jester. — Major Grimstone, " very well." — Mr. Pennington. — American 
 Strictures on English Tourists. — War. — Public Dinner. — General Jack- 
 son. — French Poet Laureat. 
 
 Song — Ode to General Jackson, 
 
 American Army. — Irregular Regulars. — Muskets and Umbrellas. 
 
 ^ong— Militia Muster Folk. 
 
 Part II. — African Theatre. — Black Tragedian, "To be, or not 
 to her 
 
 Song — Opossum up a Gum Tree; real negro melody. 
 
 Definition of the word Yankee. — Jack Topham on the Natives.— 
 Arrival at Boston. — Bunker's Hill. — A eeal Yankee, Jonathan W. 
 Doubikin, and his Uncle Ben. — John and Jonathan on " I guess," and 
 " You know."^~Mons. Mallet.— Election. 
 
802 THE LIFE AND COREESPONDENCE OF 
 
 Song — Boston Post Office. 
 
 Providence. — Enticements for Mr. Mathews to Perform. — Court of 
 Justice. — Charge to the Jury. — Emigration discouraged by a British 
 Farmer. — Disabled Goods and Chattels. 
 
 Song — Illinois Inventory. 
 
 Maximilian the Nigger {Anglice, Negro), and the Snuffbox — Pre- 
 parations to depart. — Farewell Finale. 
 
 Paet III. — A Monopolylogue, called 
 
 All Well at Nachitoches ! 
 
 Colonel Hiram Peglar, a Kentucky Shoemaker. 
 Agamemnon, a poor runaway Negro, 
 Jonathan W. Doubikin, a real Yankee (his master). 
 Monsieur Capote, a French Emigrant Tailor. 
 Mr. 0' Sullivan, an Irish Improver of his Fortune. 
 
 *^* All the Characters of 'the Entertainment to be represented by 
 Mr. Mathews. 
 
 The following will convey the pith of the various accounts of 
 this Entertainment published at the time ; — » 
 
 Mr. Mathews, in his late trip to America, has not failed to catch 
 many of the leading characteristics oi Jonathan, for the amusement of 
 his friend John. He commences his " Lecture" on the peculiarities, 
 characters, and manners he has seen during his late trans-Atlantic trip, 
 by observing, that the same motive which induced Columbus to quit 
 his native shores, also impelled him to undertake this voyage — the 
 *' auri sacra fames." After a ludicrous account of his embarking on 
 board the William Thompson, and an introduction to his friends Jack 
 Topham and his Cousin Bray, the former a determined punster, and 
 the latter an enthusiastic admirer of his relation's wit, we become ac- 
 quainted with an American landlord, the coolness of whose temper, and 
 the heat of whose wine, form a curious contrast to the ready accommoda- 
 tion of an English house of reception. This phlegmatic host is 
 described to have had curiosity in his eye, and a segar in his mouth. 
 He gets dinner for nobody who comes after his usual hour, and treats 
 his customers as if they were soliciting a favour rather than conferring 
 a benefit. The port-wine is mistaken by Jack for " mulled Day and 
 Martin," and the other parts of the Entertainment, which were pro- 
 cured with so much difficulty, were equally doubtful to the well-prac- 
 tised taste of a Londoner. 
 
 At Baltimore Mr. Mathews meets with so much kindness and hospi- 
 tality that he was inclined to think himself " at home." He regrets 
 that tourists, who satirise the places they visit with so much asperity, 
 should not first examine their own capabilities of enjoyment before they 
 deal so harshly with those whose kindness deserves a better return than 
 the unmerited disgust which has sometimes been excited against them, 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. SOS 
 
 by those who carried discontent in their own breasts, and were prede- 
 termined to be displeased with everything. On board the steam- 
 packet, which transports our hero to Philadelphia, an Irishman, who 
 has never yet set eyes on a turtle, and is as little acquainted with its 
 appearance as its taste, is anxious to know whether those on board are 
 " real or mock turtle." The roads in America, it appears, have not yet 
 been improved by that Colossus in the art of road-making, Mr. M'Adam ; 
 and upon the sensitive traveller no trifling pain is inflicted during his 
 transportations in those moving dungeons the American stage-coaches. 
 
 To follow Mr. Mathews during the whole of his eccentric career 
 would be impossible. We must pass over much accurate delineation of 
 national manner, and many happy descriptions of individual character. 
 At the latter end of the Second Part we have a description of a " charge 
 to a grand-jury " by an American judge, of the most ludicrous natm'e. 
 Among other learned definitions which this legal prodigy lays down to 
 the jurymen is, that bigamy is constituted by a man marrying two 
 wives, and polygamy by a woman marrying more than two husbands. 
 
 Part the Third contains a monopoly logue, called "All Well at Na- 
 chitoches ! " in which Mr. Mathews represents six characters with 
 wonderful ability and adroitness. In the course of the entertainment 
 we were furnished with many highly amusing sketches of American 
 character and independence. Mr. Mathews, however, never deals 
 harshly either with the national manners or individual peculiarities, 
 and takes every opportunity of doing justice to the good fellowship 
 with which he was treated. Mr. Mathews's trip will, no doubt, prove 
 equally attractive with his former amusements, and draw, whenever he 
 is " At Home," a crowded audience. We should observe, that all the 
 characters of the evening's entertainment are represented by Mr. 
 Mathews, with the exception of that of a live pon}', which is merely 
 introduced because he is wanted to draw. 
 
 The picture of a French emigrant, a Monsieur Mallet, was a power- 
 ful piece of acting. We never beheld anything more complete, mas- 
 terly, and affecting. Poor Mallet anxiously expected a letter at the 
 Boston post-office from his family ; and though it was there all the time 
 of his numerous inquiries, he did not receive it for weeks, owing to the 
 French pronunciation of his name, Mallay. " Had you said Mall^^," 
 coolly replied the Republican, "I should have known." The varied 
 emotions of the Frenchman — joy at having received the letter, and rage 
 against the otfice-keeper for detaining it, during the expression of which 
 he unconsciously tears the unread letter to tatters — were vigorously 
 portrayed. The whole of this episode was, perhaps, the ablest piece 
 of acting in the production.* 
 
 We " guess " that we may " calculate " on a " pretty considerable " 
 intermingling in our conversations of the American colloquialisms and 
 idioms. 
 
 * An Irish critic observed upon this episode that " if Sterne had written it 
 he would have selected Mathews to represent it," adding, that "it was in- 
 tensely aff"ecting, and the naore aflfecting from the glare of humour, and joke, 
 and merriment, with which this deep shade of tragedy was surrounded." 
 
804j THE LIFE AND COKRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 Letter from the Right Honourable J. W. Croker to Mr. Mathews — Letter to 
 Mrs. Mathews : Disturbance at the Dublin Theatje — Mr. Talbot's attempts 
 to thwart the success of Mr. Mathews — Letters to Mrs. Mathews : passage 
 to Ireland — Unlucky speculations of Mr. Mathews — Letters to Mrs. 
 Mathews. 
 
 Eaelt in the year 1824, a new club-house was formed, called 
 the Athenasum, and Mr. Mathews became a member of it, through 
 the following compHmentary medium : — 
 
 To Charles Mathews, Esq. 
 
 Admiralty, 23rd March, 1824. 
 Dear Sir, — At a meeting of the New Literary and Scientific Club, 
 held yesterday, I did myself the honour of proposing you as a member 
 of that institution; and I was unanimously authorized to acquaint you 
 that the Club will be most happy if you should be inclined to join our 
 society. I enclose you a prospectus and list of the names of our present 
 members, and have the honour to be, 
 
 Your faithful humble servant, J. W. Ceokee. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Dublin, "Wednesday. 
 I enclose, per Speaker's frank, some report of my progress. Tonson 
 is a great choke-pear. G — y cut me ; would Talbot had done the same, 
 or rather, Mrs. Talbot. I have not time to write full particulars ; but 
 the enclosed extract of a paper, marked No. 1, will give you some 
 notion of the disgraceful scene that took place on Monday night. Talbot 
 is the stock Morbleu, which he makes a monkey — a ballet-master — in 
 short, a stage Frenchman. Mrs. Talbot is the greatest intriguer in the 
 world J you recollect the Limerick plot P 
 
 Theatre Royal. — Tuesday evening's entertainment should have con- 
 cluded with Monsieur Tonson. We have often admired Mr. Talbot in 
 the character of Monsieur Tonson; and the praises of the London 
 critics had prepared us for being equally delighted and amused by Mr. 
 Mathews. We have been disappointed, — not through any fault of Mr. 
 Mathews, but by the disgraceful conduct of a few persons in the gal- 
 leries, who commenced hissing and calhng for Talbot as soon as Mathews 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 305. 
 
 appeared, although the whole house (with the exception of these few) 
 " applauded him to the very echo." Mr. Mathews felt himself unable to 
 proceed, and retired from the stage. In a few minutes Mr. Farren 
 came forward, and said, " Ladies and gentlemen, it is with the greatest 
 reluctance I appear before you; but, at the solicitation of Mr. Mathews, 
 I beg to know how he has incurred your displeasure." Several voices 
 called out that the disturbance was caused by some fellows in the 
 middle gallery. 
 
 Mr. Mathews then came forward and was received with loud applause; 
 but he had scarce!}' proceeded twenty lines when the uproar compelled 
 him to leave the stage a second time. Mr. Abbot then came forward, 
 and begged leave to inform the audience that Mr. Mathews had per- 
 formed the character of Monsieur Morhleu with the most decided 
 success in London. He had come here with considerable inconvenience 
 to himself to serve him (Mr. Abbot), and had always been heretofore 
 welcomed by the Dublin audience, which he (Mr. Abbot) could perceive 
 was the case at present, with a very slight exception ; but even partial 
 displeasure was so unusual to Mr. Mathews, that he felt himself unable 
 to proceed until it was removed. Mr. Abbot concluded by saying he 
 was certain it proceeded from Mr. Talbot's pretended friends, and that 
 it was most disagreeable to that gentleman. 
 
 After this address the piece was suffered to proceed without inter- 
 ruption until the middle of the second act, when the hissing was again 
 resumed. Mr. Mathews then addressed the audience in nearly the fol- 
 lowing words : — 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen, — I am totally unprepared for such an attack 
 as this, and am therefore incapable of answering it. I had flattered 
 myself that I had played the character of Morhleu in London with 
 some success ; and I feel that I shall not at this time of life, supported 
 with the approbation of a London audience, shrink into insignificance 
 at so paltry a show of displeasure. I have always received a most 
 liberal share of support from the Dublin audience. However, if they 
 should now express their disapprobation of me, I shall bow to it with 
 the greatest humility. The only mortification I shall feel is my conse- 
 quent inability to do justice to the character." 
 
 It was destined that, in all Mr. Mathews's engagements in 
 Ireland, something quite apart from public and general feeling, 
 something harassing and irritating to his temper, was to take 
 place, and put him out of humour for the time. The present 
 was a very flagrant case of baseness. It appeared, since the 
 early days when the names of Talbot and Mathews were first 
 coupled, that Mr. Talbot had descended from his tragedy stilts 
 "to shuffle about as the lean and slippered pantaloon" of farce. 
 From that time friendship seemed to have subsided in the breast 
 of Mr. Talbot into a foolish attempt at rivalry. In 1808, some 
 " compunctious visitings" of a transient kind induced him, after 
 
 X 
 
S(^6 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 receiving an undeserved instance of Mr. Mathews's kindness, to 
 address a long letter to him, from which I extract the most 
 material part. 
 
 Allow me to express now the pleasure you have afforded me, and the 
 high idea you have forced me to conceive of your heart, by the kind- 
 ness you have bestowed, and the cordiality you have received me with, 
 after the coolness of my conduct towards you, and the censure and 
 abuse I so liberally bestowed upon you. Not to dwell on a subject 
 which occasions me some feelings of remorse, a letter wherein I thought 
 we were jointly reflected on, by insinuation after our visit to Wales, 
 was the principal cause of my conduct. 
 
 Your sincere friend, Montague Talbot. 
 
 After this letter, the friends never met until the year 1816, 
 when Mr. Talbot had a relapse of his weakness ; and it followed 
 that, because Mr. Mathews was engaged to perform in Limerick, 
 at the principal theatre, while Mr. Talbot was manager of a 
 minor one, every mean contrivance was resorted to to injure the 
 receipts of the major establishment (traced to Mr. Talbot)^ 
 such as paragraphs asserting the utter want of safety in the 
 building, if crowded, &c. ; and though we had never seen him 
 from the time of the paragraph I have extracted from his letter, 
 and therefore could not have offended him, he neither called nor 
 took any notice during our stay in Limerick, but in the manner 
 above described. 
 
 The following is Mr. Mathews's account to me of the recent 
 circumstance : — 
 
 I was attacked with hisses— Off!— off!— Talbot!— Talbot!— before! 
 spoke one word. Fellows were taken up all armed with bludgeons. 
 The managers had hints that something was likely to occur on my 
 opening night ; and Abbot and Farren were prepared by anonymous 
 letters for the direct war of Monday night, though I was not. It was 
 a painful situation. My pride supported me ; nothing ever did brace 
 my nerves and rouse my energies equal to an undeserved hiss. 
 
 In the second act I left the stage, with a determination never to set 
 foot on it again. I begged of Abbot to gratify my pride by going on 
 the stage to say that I had withdrawn myself. 
 
 The stage was unoccupied for at least ten minutes, during which 
 time I had been firm of purpose : Abbot and Farren both petitioning 
 me to go on. I positively refused ; but a cue for the demolition of the 
 chandelier being given, I dreaded further row for Abbot's sake, and 
 therefore repented and rushed on, I never behaved so well to myself. 
 
 One part of my speech is too tamely reported in the account of it. 
 J said these exact words : — " If in your judgment I am unqualified to 
 .perform the part of Morhleu, I must necessarily bow to your decision; 
 but I beg it may be distinctly understood, that having for years been 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 307 
 
 honoured with the approbation of a London audience, no mark of dis- 
 pleasure here can make me shrink into insignificance, and much less 
 the paltry attempts made by a hired part3\" If I had not been cheered 
 after this as I was, I had arranged another sentence in my mind ; I 
 however conquered. Last night was a very fine house ; and the " Trip" 
 was received with acclamations; and my Irishman, which I always 
 contend is not appreciated in London, was my greatest hit of the night. 
 I was huzzaed at the close. 
 
 If I have not directed properly to the Speaker, you will tell me so. 
 The conspiracy has served me, and my independence is applauded by 
 those whose opinions are worth having. 
 
 Chaelbs Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Seapoint, Oct. 17th, 1824. 
 
 I am going on in the same steady course, which will give me about 
 500Z. sterling, I expect, clear of all expenses. When I came, my friends 
 all pulled faces, and thought me a " little d — d mad," to come at this 
 period after the greatest drag ever known in Dublin. 
 
 Plant away — plant away ! A very disagreeable, stiff, vulgar, young 
 woman here, fancying herself quite illigant, said the other day, in 
 confidence to another female, " There is not a gintleman in the house. 
 Wait till my brother comes ; then they'll see a gintleman." He 
 arrived, and a more unlicked cub I never saw. His gentility consisted 
 entirely in mincing the language which he flattered himself he was 
 speaking with proper nicety : — " It's a favourable dee to see the hee. 
 Wester, bring the tay." " I went to the veel of Avoca, and ate so 
 much vale that my hid eched," &c. After two days' knowledge of 
 
 him, the friend said : " Ah ! Miss M , when does your other 
 
 brother come ?" Ha ! neat. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Dublin, Dec. 8th, 1824. 
 It snowed the whole way to Conway Ferry. We turned out of a 
 warm coach, an^l walked a quarter of a mile to the ferry. Snowing ! 
 wet boat ! wet feet ! wet everything ! Trundled in, and tumbled out 
 in fifteen miles more. Crossed Bangor. More wet boats and boots. 
 Here I brought guard to confession, that the packet did not wait one 
 minute beyond nine for the Chester mail. It was then half-past six 
 instead of three, and we had twenty-three miles to go. I told guard 
 and coachman, that if I was too late for the packet I would bring an 
 action against the proprietors. By galloping we arrived at five minutes 
 to nine. Six minutes later, I should have seen the smoke from the 
 chimney of the steamer scudding from English land, and had twenty- 
 four hours to spend at the World's End. This was my first piece of 
 
808 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 good fortune. The day was lovely, and I enjoyed my passage much. 
 The next morning it blew a gale, and rained all day. 
 
 How extraordinary that the snow did not reach you ! It never 
 ceased from the time I awoke on Saturday morning until four on 
 Sunday morning ; and here there was skating on Sunday. I had not 
 time for breakfast at Holyhead, so by a curious fatality I was thirty- 
 six hours without a meal, and should have been forty but for the sand- 
 wiches. It is quite a prejudice that eating is necessary on a journey. 
 Yesterday I walked half a mile before I could find a chemist's ; at last 
 I pounced upon one. " Any healing plaister ?" " We have not, suvr." 
 "Walked to a second : same answer. A third ; the same ; until I was 
 at a loss to conjecture why I could not be served. I was directed to 
 an apothecary's. Still " No." At last it occurred to me to try a new 
 expedient. " Can you not procure or prepare me some halemg plaister.^" 
 The mystery was solved ; my unfortunate English accent was not to 
 be understood by these illigant Irish spakers. 
 
 Ever affectionately, &c., C. Mathews. 
 
 At the end of this year Mr. Mathews was induced, by the 
 persuasions of some interested persons, to embark large sums in 
 the purchase of shares in two "Companies;" and not only did 
 he eventually lose all the money which he had at various times 
 paid for the shares, but he had to avert actions afterwards 
 brought against him as a shareholder, for sums due to the trades- 
 men employed by the Companies. I pass over these events as 
 rapidly as possible, as a detail of them would be very uninterest- 
 ing and tedious to the reader, as well as painful to my own feel- 
 ings, which suffered intensely at the time. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Newry, Jan. 4th, 1825. 
 I have to announce again my safe arrival. I finished last night at 
 Belfast, and made by my week llOZ. This was in proportion better 
 than Dublin ; but this is a distracted country, and theatricals suffer in 
 common with the rest. I need not say that your letter to-day, which 
 welcomed me as I got into the chaise (indeed I waited for it), filled 
 these eyes with tears which would have been dry enough at parting 
 
 with . The opinion of the dear Speaker of our blessing and 
 
 treasure was as gratifying to me to read as I am sure it was to you to 
 write. God bless him and you, and preserve you both to him who lives 
 but for you, unalterably and affectionately. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 I 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 309 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Newry, Jan. 12th, 1825. 
 How are you all at Highgate, 3'ou happy creatures ? " How little 
 does the landsman know !" Ah ! very fine ! Well ; the letter opposite 
 must be sealed ; and when shaken to be then taken— as directed. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 I have nothing to say and no time to say it in. By the time you 
 receive this I shall have arrived, please God, and have performed, in 
 Liverpool. " This country never was, and never will be, what it was 
 before the union." (!) " Good ! now that I heard." 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Liverpool, Jan. 11th, 1825. 
 Another safe arrival, thank God ! after the much-dreaded Liverpool 
 passage. I did not come by Parkgate, indeed. 1 left Dublin at half- 
 past two yesterday, and before six was in bed at the Waterloo, having 
 been only thirteen hours on the passage, most calm and delightful, and 
 not to be expected at this time of the year. The instant I was up I 
 was obliged to go to the theatre ; and you may perhaps fancy the sort 
 of day I have spent. Strange dressers, strange musician, strange 
 everything. I have been six hours hard at work, and have only just 
 time to get my dinner and return to my work. I am blessed with my 
 usual strength, and more than usual in my hip, that was lame. It 
 will be enough, I trust, to say, that England has cheered me on my 
 arrival from Ireland. All the dress-boxes are taken for to-night and 
 Thursday ; and as the town cannot be accommodated in two nights, 
 such is their anxiety to hear my " Trip," they hope I will stay a third. 
 Bravo ! 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Liverpool, Jan. 20th, 1825. 
 Not so great last night ; but the book is capital for to-morrow. This 
 trip will give me nearly 500Z. in the five nights. Bravo !— the greatest 
 thing I have ever done out of London. I am childishly impatient now 
 to get home, where I hope to find you and dear Charles well. I am in 
 excellent health and spirits, cheered greatly, too, by my faith in Messrs. 
 Grey and Brodie. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
310 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 Mr. Mathews's new entertainment, called his ''Memorandum Book" — Pro- 
 gramme — Description of the performance — Letter from Mr. J. G-. Lockhart 
 to Mr. Mathews — Letters to Mrs. Mathews : Plymouth gaieties : Expedition 
 to Loo — Letter to Mrs, Mathews : Mr. Farley and the cat in the boot — Mr. 
 Mathews's visit to Scotland — Letter to Mrs, Mathews : Introduction of 
 Mr. C. J. Mathews to Sir Walter Scott: Invitation to Abbotsford : Sir 
 "Walter and the novels — Anecdote of an old laird — A Scotch hackney- 
 coachman. 
 
 After the rehearsal dinner at the cottage, to the select and 
 critical friends who annually favoured my husband with their 
 "most attentive hearing," and made their valuable comments 
 upon his forthcoming Entertainment, he once more opened the 
 English Opera-house with new materials, in the form of — 
 
 MR. MATHEWS'S MEMORANDUM-BOOK 
 
 Of Peculiarities, Characters, and Manners, collected during his 
 various Trips. 
 
 Paet I. — Family Fireside.— -Thoughts on Trips. — Mrs. Tinsel, of 
 Parish. — Charitable Neighbour. — John's Wages. — Memorandum- 
 Book Opened. 
 
 Song — Memoranda in Confusion. 
 
 Authors, Actors, Managers, and Critics. — Mr. King of the Crown. — 
 Regal Innkeeper. — King, Lords, and Commons.-r-Nat Glibb. — Waiter. 
 — Prime Minister. — " Make every Body Comfortable." 
 
 ^OTL^— Night Coach. 
 
 Mr. Doublechin. — A Lady of some Weight. — Mr. Frost. — Improvi- 
 dent Traveller. Mr. Quiverton. — Everlasting Singer. — Testy. — Jona- 
 than on the Roof — Travelling Astronomer. — How to prevent Sleep in 
 a Coach.— Mr. Allum, the Writing Chemist, and his Uncle, Mr. Chris- 
 topher Chyle.— Food and Poison.— Mr. Allbutt.— The Fortunate Youth, 
 and his Friend, a Man of Few Words.— Old Startle.— Calamities of 
 Prosperity.— How to dispose of your Money. 
 
 Song — JBuhhleSy a Capital Song. 
 Speculations. — Shares. — Companies. — Sinking Funds. — Gas. — Mr 
 Fleece. — Tunnels. — Silver Mines. — Lord Drowsy. — Unique Projects. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 811 
 
 Part IT. — Coffee House. — Allura. — Chyle, — Death in the Pot.— 
 Scientific Starvation. — Adulteration. — Bread, Wine, Coffee. — Tea and 
 Milk Analyzed.— Mr. AUbutt. 
 
 Song — Sailing Match. 
 
 Preparations for a Boat-full of Pleasure. — Mr. Brownrigf^ and Family. 
 — Mr. Literal. — Ballustrade Pillory. — Politesse of Lord Chesterfield. — 
 Lumbago. — Antelope and Penelope. — Royal Anecdote. — Sailing Match 
 Lost. — Music on the Water. — Catastrophe. — Kemble and Bensley. — 
 Hamlet and Ghost. — Red Arsenic. — Methusalem. — Country Bank Notes, 
 — Solicitors. — " As you were," and " As you are." 
 
 Song — Old and New Times. 
 
 M'Adam. — Coffee-houses and Club-houses. — Working Company.— 
 Civility to Animals, &c. — Invitation to Dinner. — Chyle's Haunch. — 
 Deaf Housekeeper. — Trumpet Duet without Music. — Novel Watchman. 
 — " What's o'clock ?" 
 
 Song — Public Office in Bow-street. 
 
 Night Charges. — Mr. Chubb and his Wooden Leg. — Wizen and 
 O'Halloran. — Miss Fumbustle. — Desperate Assault. — Voiceless Com- 
 plainant. — Ebenezer Dumps and his Bail. — O'Fagan and his Wife. — 
 Hibernian Dispute. — Native Witnesses. — Illegality of Police Reports. — 
 Mr. Mathews going to Gloucester. — Mr. and Mrs. Chyle. — Allum. — 
 " Finale," by Mr. Mathews, Mrs. Chyle, Mr. Chyle, Mr. Allum, and 
 Allbutt's Friend. 
 
 Part III. — A Monopolylogue, to be called the 
 
 Crown In-n Danger. 
 
 Nat Glibb, a Waiter Mr. Mathews ! 
 
 Friaswaffer, a Tender-hearted German Cook . Mr. Mathews ! ! 
 Molly Gramachree, an Itinerant from the 
 
 Emerald Isle Mr. Mathews ! ! ! 
 
 Thady, her Son Mr. Mathews ! ! ! ! 
 
 Mr. Christopher Chyle, come out Pleasuring . Mr. Mathews ! ! ! ! ! 
 
 Mr. Allum, come out Experimentalizing . . Mr. Mathews !!!!!! 
 Brother Simple, of the Loyal Laughing Lodge 
 
 of Free and Accepted Masons . . . Mr. Mathews! !!!!!! 
 
 And, Mr. Mathews on a Provincial Trip. 
 
 Amongst the memorable guests at Ivy Cottage, the following 
 short letter will record a name which I am proud to associate 
 with that of my husband ; regretting at the same time that I 
 do not possess any more important communication from the 
 same distinguished pen wherewith to grace these pages. 
 
312 THE LIFE AND CORKESPONDENCE OF 
 
 To C. Mathews, Esq. 
 Northumberland-street, Edinburgli, March, 1825. 
 
 Deae Sib, — I was asked lately by Mr. Croker to get for him a speci- 
 men of the handwriting of Home, author of " Douglas." I applied 
 accordingly to his relations here, and have got more than I wanted ; 
 that is, two letters, and two scraps of the original rough draft of 
 " Douglas." 
 
 It occurred to me that one letter and one bit of " Douglas " might be 
 acceptable to you, in case you had not anything of Mr. Home's in your 
 invaluable collection of autographs ; so I accordingly enclose them. 
 
 May I beg you to present my best respects to Mrs. Mathews j and 
 to assure her that I shall never forget the charming day I spent at the 
 most charming of all cottages. 
 
 Yours very sincerely, J. G. Lockhaet. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Brummy, Wednesday. 
 Though I am upon the wing to get out of this dull town, five miles 
 to my namesake, Mathews, I cannot resist sending you a few lines, to 
 thank you for your delightful communications. I had a letter from 
 dear Charley yesterday, with seven verses of a song for Jonathan, out of 
 which I can pick some very good ones. I wrote to thank him for his 
 pains last night. I ruralized yesterday for a chop dinner ; and, as I 
 have nothing of my own to say, I will just give you a specimen of an 
 epitaph that I think good. The mourning husband puts his initials at 
 the bottom of the lines. 
 
 ** Hannah, wife of Greorge Onions. 
 
 She was — 
 But words are wanting to say what. 
 Look what a wife should be, 
 And she was that. 
 
 GO." 
 
 Affectionately yours, C. Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Plymouth, July 24th, 1825. 
 
 I have been junketing, and did not return until seven last night; 
 when I found your welcome letter, announcing your and Charles's 
 health. This morning I have received another letter from you, which 
 has grieved me most sincerely. Your words are precisely what I should 
 have written to another upon the melancholy subject of poor Louisa. 
 Believe me, I am as much affected as you are. If she is allowed to move 
 from London, I hope you will persuade her mother to let her come into 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 313 
 
 Devonshire. The air, I understand, is marvellous for consumptive 
 people.* 
 
 I dine to-day with Lord Grey, who has come here for the health of 
 his children. " Oh, the mayor of Loo." Liston's mayor is gone ; but 
 I saw one. Captain Cox, whom I met at Stephenson's, made me 
 promise to visit him at Loo. Such an expedition ! I shall never forget 
 it ; but must reserve the description until I see you. The commence- 
 ment of the expedition will give you some little idea of it, and that you 
 shall have. I received a note saying that if I would embark on board 
 the Falmouth steam-boat. Captain Cox would come off in a boat from 
 Loo, where the steam-boat will not land passengers. Well, he came 
 not! Boat-signal hoisted — gun fired — all to no purpose — no boat. 
 What is to be done ? Where can I land ? Must I go to Falmouth, 
 forty-five miles, and no getting back in time to act to-morrow ? " No : 
 land you at Towey ; nine miles further, and twelve from Loo." Any- 
 thing ! Put me on shore. Not one gig or carriage of any description 
 
 to be had ; only saddle-horses. G and I mounted, with a guide on 
 
 foot, carrying our bags. Precipices to ride over — the guide had never 
 been the road! and such a road I never saw in the wildest part 
 of America ! Frequently we encountered four roads, and sometimes 
 six ; a stone for a direction-post occasionally occurred, on one side of 
 which appeared " Loo," and on the other " Lost," being an abbreviation 
 of Lostwithiel. We were four hours and a half in a broiling sun, which 
 peeled the skin quite off my nose. — Epitaph at Loo : — 
 
 * * Here lies 
 
 The bhghted hopes of a Mother, 
 
 And the blasted expectations of a Father." 
 
 I have received nearly 200Z. by my week. Very great indeed. I 
 shall do as well at Exeter. No start can do better than the year 1825 ! 
 
 Not a bit of my head complaint from the time I sniffed the sea-air. 
 I have been three hours in the bay to-day. Pray convey love to Louisa, 
 and my most affectionate condolence to her mother. 
 
 Ever affectionately yours, C. Mathews. 
 
 P.S. A very pleasant day indeed at Lord Grey's. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathetvs. 
 
 Cheltenham, Oct. 14th, 1825. 
 " How sweet is our rest on Sunday ! " I have got through a week 
 of unparalleled fatigue ; having played three nights running, — one at 
 Gloucester, and last night here. I am, however, well, notwithstanding 
 the worry I have suffered in rehearsing. 
 
 I am delighted at the cheerful tone of your letter, which is the first 
 really merry letter I have received from you since I letl home. I never 
 will believe you are well when I cannot make out your writing. Not 
 
 * This deep concern related to the present Mrs. Fairlie. 
 
814 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 one word have I squeezed out of you in reply to any of mine. Look 
 over my last, if you have kept it. 
 
 Farley* and I are left to breakfast alone. We had, or rather I had, 
 such a joke against him! I have picked up a curious imitation, and 
 
 with it a story of Sir I — c C n, — a most absurd, insane, eccentric 
 
 propensity of the admiral ; the hero of which is a cat put in a boot. I 
 had convulsed Farley with laughter at this story ; he roared whenever 
 I reminded him of it, even by one word. I went over to Gloucester 
 with Charles Young, to see the play and return with him in his phaeton. 
 Farley was acting in the after-piece of the " Broken Sword," and in perfect 
 earnest pouring out his melodramatic sentiment, when suddenly a tall 
 figure in a red cloak, with his back to the audience, tall hat, very high 
 feathers, stalked across the stage, with a boot in his hand, from the top 
 of which peeped out the head of a kitten, which was evidently struggling 
 for escape. I was on and off like lightning. He was so completely 
 overcome that he screeched with laughter, and ran off. Imagine the 
 rest. 
 
 There is not a word about poor Louisa — not a word about the new 
 Entertainment — whether Charles has heard of the plan, &c. 
 
 Ever affectionately yours, C. Mathews. 
 
 Shortly after the above correspondence, my husband and son 
 (who was travelling with him) returned home, and at the ap- 
 pointed time proceeded without me to Scotland. 
 
 To Mr». Mathews. 
 
 Edinbtirgh, 23rd Dec. 1825. 
 
 In addition to my own success here, which is keeping up to the mark, 
 and will in all probability give me 500Z. quite clear, I have to announce 
 the success of our all in all, dear Charles. He first made a strong im- 
 pression on Jeffery at Eckersall's (George)— no small boast. On 
 Tuesday we met the man of men, the great Weil-Known, at James 
 Ballantyne's. Charles was all hopes, all fears. Ballantyne, with great 
 kindness, placed him next Sir Walter at dinnei*. He soon cheered him 
 with his affability ; and his good humour brought out our son. He 
 was very successful. Sir Walter was very much struck with the 
 " Eoman sermon," lauded it highly, and Charles's song was repeatedly 
 cheered by him with " vary clever — oh, exceedingly good — excellent, 
 indeed ! " When I went into the drawing-room, Ballantyne took me 
 with great mystery into his library, and said, " Your son has made a 
 great impression on Sir Walter, and I think you ought to know it, and 
 treasure it up. He said he was a very clever and a very modest young 
 man; and added, that he wa« exceedingly struck with him." 
 
 This ended in an invitation to Abbotsford, and a request that I would 
 bring Charles with me ; and in his brief way, said : " He *s a very nice 
 lad that, and exceedingly clever." Cadell met me next day, and said 
 
 * Charles Farley, a good actor and an excellent stage manager, died January, 
 1859, in the eighty -eighth year of his age. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 315 
 
 what a valuable thing it was to Charles to have hit the bard so power- 
 fully ; " for you may depend upon this," said he, " Scott never flatters. 
 His praise is indeed worth having." You may suppose how gratified 
 papa was. Charles had the advantage, too, of meeting Mr. Playfair, 
 the architect, who invited him next day, showed him his drawings, &c. 
 In short, I look upon this trip as one of the most foi-tunate and impor- 
 tant events in his lite ; and I have resolved, in spite of all pursuits in 
 Wales, to keep him here to go to Abbotsford. We shall go after I have 
 finished at Glasgow, about the 8th of January. 
 
 Luckily it has reconciled me to a disappointment which alone could 
 have afforded me the opportunity of going myself: this gives me some 
 spare days, which I am sure you will rejoice can be turned to such 
 account for our good fellow. 1 hope you will feel as warmly as I do 
 about this, and encourage me in encouraging him to neglect his business 
 for such an event * Next to an invitation to Carlton House, I value 
 this. He is the king of Scottish society ; and none but persons of rank 
 and talent can get invitations to Abbotsford. I am proud and happy If 
 Charles is already convinced of the value of the Scottish character. 
 Not one instance of neglect, or falling off.. Too many invitations. On 
 Christmas Day we dine with Constable, near Roslyn Castle, and sleep 
 there. For the first time in all our long acquaintance he has thrown off the 
 veil of mystery respecting Scott and the novels. He told me that he is 
 preparing for the press a novel called " Woodstock," and the " Life of 
 Bonaparte." He called the other day, and found Scott with both 
 manuscripts on the table, writing alternately a fragment of each. He 
 said that his mind was relieved by leaving a dry matter of history to 
 indulge in the imaginative, and equally so after indulging in the regions 
 of fancy by returning to the contemplation of biographical facts. This 
 will be a pretty bit for Mrs. Wilson and the disbelievers.^ 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 * Charles was building in Wales. 
 
 t "Mathews used often to refer with great delight," says Mr. Patmore, 
 *'and even with a tinge of personal pride (for it would be unjust to call it 
 vanity), to his intimacy with Walter Scott, whom he visited several times at 
 Abbotsford, when the poet was at the height of his fame and popularity as 
 ' The Great Unknown.' Indeed, I do not , call to mind a single instance, 
 except that of Scott, in which his references to his intimacy with the great and 
 distinguished of the world were blended with any appearance of exultation or 
 self-satisfaction. But in the case of Scott, he evidently piqued himself upon 
 the intercourse, as if he felt it to be an honour and a favour. He (Mathews) 
 used to imitate the poet's tone, manner, and mode of speech, in a way that was 
 quite delightful to those who, like myself, had never seen that illustrious man. 
 This was the more striking from a remarkable resemblance which the eyes and 
 brow of Mathews bore to the portraits, at least, of Scott. I believe I was the 
 first to remark this resemblance ; and Mathews was evidently not a little 
 pleased with the observation . It was particularly conspicuous in a bust of 
 Mathews by Behnes, I think," [the bust alluded to was Joseph's, and the 
 resemblance spoken of has often been noticed,] ''which used to form a part 
 of his theatrical gallery at Kentish Town." 
 
 4: In Mr. Patmore's "Recollections," that gentleman has attributed this 
 
316 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 The circumstance of Mr. Mathews's dwelHng in this letter 
 so emphatically upon the superiority of the Scottish character, 
 reminds me of several anecdotes related by him in reference to 
 the lower orders of that country, who partook of the respect 
 which the higher ranks excited in him at all times. 
 
 I remember his telling me a story of his having dined a short 
 distance from Edinburgh, accompanied by an old laird much in 
 the habit of exceeding discreet limits, when he found himself 
 induced by good wine and good company to take more of the 
 former than he was justified in doing. On the occasion in ques- 
 tion, he had taken Mr. Mathews in his carriage to the house 
 where they dined on a Saturday evening. On their return to 
 Edinburgh after midnight, when they reached the toll-bar 
 through which they had passed on the evening of the day before, 
 the usual demand was made by the pretty daughter of the toll- 
 keeper, which the laird resisted on the plea that he had paid on 
 first passing through, and should not pay again. The young 
 girl reminded the laird that it was now another day ; that the 
 Sabbath morn had broken upon his return ; and, therefore, she 
 expected a fresh payment. But the impracticable laird persisted 
 in his wrong-headed determination not to pay a second toll on 
 one day. It was in vain his friends expostulated and endeavoured 
 to discharge the claim, in order to get home. The unreasonable 
 laird would not permit his friends or his servants to satisfy the 
 demand, and he applied the most violent and unbecoming lan- 
 guage and epithets to the girl ; all which she received with great 
 meekness, nevertheless with unflinching determination not to 
 unlock the gate without the toll being first paid. The fury of 
 the laird, and the continuation of the noise, at length induced 
 an old woman in her night-dress to peer out of an upper win- 
 dow, with the question of, " Eh ! Maggy, what's the gentleman 
 saying?" when the girl wittily replied, " Ah, mither! it's no 
 the gentleman ; it's the wine that speaks!" Strange to say, 
 this sobered the laird, who demurely ordered his servant to " gi'e 
 the lassie her will for once, though 'twas hard to pay twice in 
 one day." 
 
 Asa pendant to the preceding picture of native good sense 
 and moderation, I add the following anecdote : — 
 
 During some severe weather, Mr. Mathews had hired a 
 hackney-coach to take him to the theatre where he had to act. 
 
 account to Mr. Mathews's personal experience, while on a visit to Sir Walter. 
 The mistake was natural, after so long a lapse of time. The fact has only 
 changed its authority. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 817 
 
 Something had happened several times to derange the harness, 
 and the driver, a steady old Scotchman, had been obhged to 
 descend from his box to put it in order ; but a third occasion 
 put an end to my husband's patience, besides giving him some 
 alarm lest he should not arrive in time to dress. He looked out 
 of the coach-window, and perceiving the man very deliberately 
 tying some rope together, to effect the necessary repair, some- 
 what angrily called out that such delays were very provoking ; 
 and being unable to induce the man to hasten his operations, he 
 exclaimed, in a sharp tone, " Be pleased to remember how much 
 time I am losing." — " Vary weel, sir," answered the man, quietly 
 and slowly, " and you will be pleased to remember that I'm 
 losing just as much time as yoursel'." 
 
3]S THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 Mr. Mathews's return to London — Letter from him to the Duke of Montrose : 
 embarrassing request — Frequent visits of the Duke and Duchess of Montrose 
 to Mr. Mathews's "At Homes" — Zealous support by Mr. Mathews of the 
 Theatrical Fund — Letter from Mr. Mathews to Mr. Richard Lane: Ille- 
 gible names — Mr. Mathews's seventh "At Home" at the English Opera- 
 house — Programme of the entertainment — Letter from Dr. Kitchener to Mr. 
 Mathews : the *' Cook's Oracle," the *' Housekeeper's Ledger." 
 
 On Mr. Mathews's return, to prepare for re-opening the English 
 Opera-house, an unexpected and novel intimation embarrassed 
 him exceedingly, and occasioned him to address the Lord Cham- 
 berlain privately, in the following letter : — 
 
 To Sis Grace the Duhe of Montrose. 
 
 My Lord Duke, — On arriving in London for the purpose of com- 
 pleting the arrangements for my new entertainment, I have been thrown 
 into the utmost confusion and alarm by the intelligence which Mr. 
 Arnold has communicated to me, that your Grace has called upon him 
 for a written copy of the whole matter to be spoken by me, in order to 
 receive your Lordship's licence. 
 
 Without presuming to enter into the question whether an entertain- 
 ment delivered wholly by one person can, by any possible construction, 
 be deemed " an entertainment of the stage," I still beg leave most re- 
 spectfully to state the extreme awkwardness of the position in which I 
 am placed by this requisition. 
 
 In all my performances for so many years past, it has ever been 
 customary for the several characters which I have selected to be arranged 
 and strung together in something like the order of a story, by one or 
 two other persons; that is to say, a plan has been laid out, which 
 afforded the opportunity of introducing characters, anecdotes, and 
 incidents which 1 have intended to delineate ; but of these there are 
 hundreds which have never yet been committed to writing, and of 
 which, indeed, I could give no idea on paper. Your Grace has, I be- 
 lieve, more than once honoured my perlbrmance with your presence j 
 and your Lordship must, therefore, be aware how utterly impracticable 
 the attempt would be to convey any idea, in writing, of the assump- 
 tions of character, the imitations of manner, and other peculiarities, of 
 which it is composed. 
 
 These, it is well known, have never been personal, nor in any way 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 819 
 
 offensive to any individual. On this I have always prided myself; and, 
 when I state, that several of my entertainments have been given by me 
 at Carlton Palace, by His Majesty's express command, before the Royal 
 Family and select parties, it cannot, I conceive, be for a moment sup- 
 posed that anything like immorality, or politics, or any impropriety, 
 ever has been, or ever could be, attempted by me. These facts, how- 
 ever, I should not urge for a moment, but should cheerfully obey your 
 Lordship's order, were it not for the annoying difficulty, which I have 
 before taken the liberty to mention, and which, I confess, I feel to be 
 insurmountable. 
 
 Having stated that I have so frequently had the honour of giving my 
 entertainment privately before His Majesty, I feel assured that your 
 Grace will not consider it improper if I venture to say, that the diffi- 
 culty to which I have alluded may possibly be overcome, if your Lord- 
 ship would condescend to hear, rather than read me ! and allow me on 
 any evening you may be pleased to appoint, to go through my new 
 entertainment in the presence of your Grace and family, and thus 
 enable you to form a far more accurate judgment of its nature, than 
 could possibly be derived from anything that could be written. 
 
 I trust your Lordship will not consider this appeal as in any way 
 improper or intrusive. 
 
 I have the honour to be, my Lord Duke, your Grace's most respectful 
 and obedient humble servant, 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 Whatever mio-ht have actuated the Duke to express the desire 
 which drew forth Mr. Mathews's appeal, the latter had due 
 weight, and produced the most gratifying result. His Grace not 
 only gave up the point of reading the new matter, but also de- 
 clined, in the most kind form, the offered recital of it ; observing 
 that he had perfect reliance on Mr. Mathews's good taste and 
 feeling, and should no more question it. 
 
 Ever after this, the Duke and Duchess of Montrose regularly 
 visited Mr. Mathews's " At Homes ;" and, on such occasions, 
 his Grace generally did him the honour to go round to his 
 dressing-room in the course of the evening. 
 
 One of the songs, never written down to this day, either by 
 author or singer, was " London at Five in the Morning," to the 
 tune of the dance in " Speed the Plough," which tune Mr. Ma- 
 thews sung to Charles in the carriage while they posted, who 
 composed words to it as they drove along, which words his father 
 learned from his lips before the end of their journey. 
 
 I never, after this occasion, recollect Mr. Mathews's being 
 called upon, on account of his individual novelties, by a Lord 
 Chamberlain. 
 
 Ever a zealous supporter of the Theatrical Fund, for the sake 
 
S20 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 of the less fortunate in the profession, Mr. Mathews invariably 
 overcame his repugnance to a public dinner, and personally con- 
 tributed to the interests of each anniversary. However incon- 
 venient, or even detrimental to his interest, his presence in London 
 might be, I have known him not -only often give uj) most plea- 
 surable engagements, but on several occasions, pecuniary emolu- 
 ment, in order to add his name and exertions to the general 
 stock. He dreaded the occasion as much as a man could do 
 who loved quiet and air better than a crowd and a heated room ; 
 and when an extra task was laid upon him, and he was required 
 to make a speech, he suffered actual illness during the whole day, 
 from anticipation of the night's attempt. 
 
 On the present occasion he travelled an enormous journey to 
 serve this institution, and appeared at the anniversary dinner as 
 one of the stewards. 
 
 To Sichard Lane, Esq. 
 
 Ivy Cottage, March 11th, 1826. 
 
 My deae Sie, — Many thanks for your kind recollection and fulfil- 
 ment of your promise. The Hogarth is a gem, an unlooked-for trea- 
 sure. I have retained one of each of the packets of duplicates and 
 returned the remainder, as 3'ou requested ; also two from Ildgfkxl and 
 his friend Mzudfg.* They remain wrapped in the mystery they court, 
 by the pains they take to conceal themselves. We have had numerous 
 conjectures here to-day. Broderip says the nobleman is evidently Lord 
 Sghfgpxl — Mrs. Mathews, the Duke of Pxflu, and I agree with her. 
 
 As to the performer who sent you tickets, we should have given up 
 all hopes of discovering him, if it had not been for his defeating his 
 own scheme by so plainly pointing out his own residence, 34, S. JR. 
 James inmon. " Oh," said I, " it is R. W. Ynamn." — " Evidently," 
 said Broderip. 
 
 Seriously, I am evidently very much indebted to you for your very 
 kind present. Mrs. Mathews joins in compliments to Mrs. Lane. 
 
 Very sincerely yours, Chaeles Mathews. 
 
 In March, Mr. Mathews came before the public at the English 
 Opera-house in his seventh "At Home." The following was the 
 announcement : — 
 
 MR. MATHEWS'S INVITATIONS. 
 Paet I. — Exordium on Invitations. — Mr. and Mrs. Fingerfit, 
 E.S.V.P.— Mrs. W. Worrit, attached Friend.— Various Ways of deli- 
 vering Invitations. 
 
 * These words are drawings from Mr. Lane's letter, meant as a good- 
 humoured satire upon a careless mode of writing, which he often did play- 
 fully, to puzzle those whose letters he could not read. . His own hand was 
 remarkably clear. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 321 
 
 Song — Two-penny Post. 
 Monday. — Ghost of a Tune. — Invitation to Breakfast with Mr 
 Shakely. — Master Peter, Peter Master.— Nervous Toilette. — Sir Ben- 
 jamin Blancmange. — Invalid Duet, without harmony. — Friendly 
 Fugues. — Lady Dawdle's Invitation to a Pic-Nic Party to Norwood. — 
 " Cook's Oracle." — Recipe for concocting a Eout. 
 
 Song— Gipsying Excursion and Quadrilles. 
 
 Tuesday. — Invitation to Dinner at Sir Donald Scrupleton's. — Guests 
 —Sir Harry Skelter, a disappointed bird of passage. — America, Nia- 
 gara ; Italy, Vesuvius ; North Pole, Noses. — Mr. Popper (Nephew to 
 the celebrated Major Longbow). — Sporting Anecdotes. — Staunch 
 Pointer. — Invitation to the King's Theatre. 
 
 Song — Visit to the Italian Opera. 
 
 Paet II. 
 
 Wednesday. — Mr. Archibald M'Rhomboid. — Eobin Crankie. — The 
 late Mr. M'Pherson. — Spanish Decapitation. — Head and Tale. 
 
 Song — London at five in the Morning. 
 
 Thursday. — Invitation to dine with a Friend in a Family way. — Mr. 
 Dilberry and the dear little Dilberrys. — Mr. John Rally. — Nursery 
 Ballads and Smoking Chimney. — Dinner. — Brilliant Sonata on the 
 Pianoforte by Miss Jane Dilberry. 
 
 Song — {from Der Freischutz) — by Master Peter Dilberry. 
 
 Friday. — Invitation to a " Rouge et Noir" Table. — Harry Ar- 
 dourly, a Yorkshire Fox Hunter. — Consequences of Gaming ; the Gaol, 
 the Mad-house. — Contrast. — Another mad Scene. — Invitation to the 
 Hustings. 
 
 Song — General Flection. 
 
 Saturday Invitation to join a Civic Aquatic Expedition on the 
 Thames. Finale. 
 
 Paet III. — A Monopolylogue, to be called 
 
 The City Baege! 
 
 .^neas Stirturtle, Purveyor to the Barge, with a cold in his head. 
 
 Sir Harry Skelter, endeavouring to see something. 
 
 Scully, an Antediluvian Waterman. 
 
 Mr. Gibblets, a City Adonis. 
 
 Mrs. Georgiana Gritts, a Bone of Contention. 
 
 Mr. Sassafras, an Apothecary — Rival to Gibletts. 
 
 Popper, the Sporting Calendar. 
 
 %* All the above characters by Mr. Mathews. 
 
 The Songs will be accompanied on the pianoforte by Mr. J. T. Harris, 
 who will play favourite Rondos between the parts. 
 
 Y 
 
322 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 According to the plan I have hitherto pursued, I here subjoin 
 a contemporary criticism on this entertainment. 
 
 Our old favourite Mathews's irresistible " Invitations" to his " At 
 Home" attracted a large party of guests. Never were actor and 
 audience in better spirits, or more pleased with each other. On no 
 former occasion were the versatile powers of our Proteus more 
 thoroughly proved. We had him in all ages and conditions, doing great 
 justice to each character, from Methuselah to Mathews, and from 
 Mathews to the infant " mewling in his nurse's arms." 
 
 Our readers can have no idea of the fun of a pic-nic party till they 
 hear it described by Mathews himself, who attended one by invitation 
 from Lady Dawdle. Having lost all their dinner store by the oddest 
 set of accidents, they were not so fortunate as another party, consisting 
 of fourteen members, who each contributed a leg of mutton, without 
 suspecting that others might hit upon the same fare. So that when 
 there were fourteen legs of mutton on the board, a wag proposed that 
 every gentleman should eat his own leg. 
 
 Sir Donald Scrupleton is an old Scotch baronet, of a very sceptical 
 character, much inclined to dooting, and so indistinct in his utterance, 
 that one intelligible word in six or seven is as much as any reasonable 
 hearer has a right to expect. 
 
 The new piece abounds in the vis comica as much as any that have 
 preceded it; but a single touch in it distinctly marks the hand of a 
 master, and far exceeds anything that Mathews ever did before. His visit 
 to the gaming-house contains as impressive a lesson of morality as ever 
 was delivered from a pulpit. On that occasion, Harry Ardourly, a 
 Yorkshire fox-hunter, for the first time that ever he entered the doors of 
 a gaming-house, had the misfortune to win fifteen hundred pounds at a 
 JRouge et Noir table. Success created a passion for the practice, which 
 was indulged to the ruin of the unhappy young man's estate ; and his 
 mother and sisters were left penniless and unprotected, when he was 
 consigned, first to a gaol, and finally to a mad-house. In this last abode 
 of misery he fancied himself winning back his lost fortune, and on the 
 imaginary success of a cast, he raved aloud, " I have it ! — 'tis mine I — 
 I have recovered my estates — my farms — my sisters' portions ! Mother, 
 mother, where are you P Receive (fainting as in his mother's arms)— 
 mother, receive your prodigal !" After this picture, it was an effort for 
 Mathews, and for him alone, to force the house to resume its gaiety. 
 " * I never after the longest march had so great a mind for my dinner as 
 I had to cry with him for company. What could be the matter with 
 me, an' please your honour,' quoth the corporal. * Nothing in the 
 world. Trim,' said my Uncle Toby, blowing his nose ; * but that thou 
 art a good-natured fellow.' " 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 323 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 Mrs. Richard Wilson's parties — Distinguished guests — Letter to Mrs. 
 Mathews — Offer to Mr. Mathews from Mr. Price of an engagement at Drury- 
 lane Theatre — Mr. Mathews at the English Opera-house and in the pro- 
 vinces — Invitation from the Duke of Clarence to Mr. Mathews — Conversation 
 between him and his Royal Highness — Mr. Mathews's "At Home" at the 
 English Opera-house for the eighth season — The "Home Circuit" — Pro- 
 gramme — Account of the performance — A journal from Brighton — Singular 
 Visitor — Mr. Mathews's acceptance of an engagement at Drury-lane 
 Theatre — Letter from Mr. Charles Lamb to Mr. Barron Field — Mr. 
 Mathews's appearance at. Drury-lane Theatre — Great success of the per- 
 formance — Mr. Mathews's journey homewards from the north — His mail- 
 coach companions — A damp stranger — John Luckie, Baron HuUock, and 
 Mr. Brougham — Anecdote — Mr. Mathews's extraordinary imitation of 
 children — Mr. Liston hoaxed — Mr. Leigh Hunt's description of Mr. 
 Mathews's powers — Hospitality of Mr. Thomas Hill — The Sydenham 
 Sundays. 
 
 At the close of this season Mr. Mathews indulged himself in a 
 few days' holiday in Suffolk, at the house of some very old and 
 warm friends, now, alas ! removed, with many such, who would, had 
 they existed, have proved a solace to me in my bereavement. I 
 preserve this brief allusion to a friendship of more than thirty 
 years, as a memorial of the once happy hours passed in my 
 girlish days in the midst of the gaiety so widely spread by Mrs. 
 Richard Wilson's parties, in Lincoln's Inn Fields, where the 
 noblest of the land, the wittiest and wisest, gayest and gravest, 
 the idle and the busy, assembled with one common feeling of 
 enjoyment. There have I seen the fine face of the lamented Sir 
 Samuel Romilly, with his lovely and amiable lady at his side, 
 smiling as if peace was for ever a safe inmate in his bosom. 
 Alas for this remembrance ! Lords Erskine and Eldon, and a 
 long list of nobles, headed by Royalty itself, were frequent, and 
 I may say, familiar guests, at Mr. Wilson's table, where all the 
 talents were associated. Dear old Captain Morris, with his songs 
 and singing, and charming society ; Sheridan, and other of his 
 noted contemporaries, the youthful Theodore Hook and Horace 
 Twiss (just rising from their teens), stood prominently forward, 
 
 t2 
 
32 i THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 full of the buoyancy, wit, and talent which established their 
 respective positions in the high and intellectual society in which 
 they both lived. Out of the many that my "mind's eye" now 
 brings before me, these are among the very few that remain to 
 give assent to the truth of those pleasant hours passed in that 
 most pleasant house. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Biddleston, 12tli July, 1826. 
 General Grosvenor has given me a frank, or I believe I should not 
 have written, as I have not enough to say worth paying for. I need 
 not say how delighted I was at the receipt of dear Charles's letter. It 
 was a god-send upon my arrival here, as, indeed, I was most anxious 
 to hear of him. His letter has cheered me : it is all that is delightful. 
 Charming weather ! Young is here — desires love — wishes to know if 
 you got the books he sent. All the family desire love. Percy* is 
 better than ever I saw him since his illness. Mrs. Randolph desires 
 particular remembrance ; wishes you were here. Pressed upon all sides 
 to send for you : as I know you won't come, I have made all sorts of 
 excuses ; but feel embarrassed, as I cannot give such a one as I should 
 myself allow to be really good under the same circumstances. How- 
 ever, we are all slaves to something, and a dislike to variety is an 
 unhappy specimen. Locomotion is what is called happiness to me ; 
 that is, life and spirits. God bless you ! 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 The succeeding letter was the beginning of a negotiation with 
 Mr. Mathews to act for a term in the regular drama, at Drury- 
 lane. An allusion is made in it to a second visit to America, 
 which, however, was ultimately set aside, such a step being in- 
 consistent with Mr. Mathews's home views at that period. 
 
 London, 15tli July, 1826. 
 My deae Mathews, — I have released Bish from his contract, upon 
 his paying me 2000^., and have taken the theatre at my old terms, 
 10,600^. per year. I can only beg of you to reserve for me a few 
 nights in the next season, in any contract you may make with Arnold. 
 For God's sake, bear me in mind. I feel that it is unnecessary to make 
 anything like terms. You shall say what they shall be. You and 
 Listen are my great hopes. A letter from you would influence him : 
 however, do not write it if it be disagreeable to you. I leave London on 
 Friday, twelve o'clock, and Liverpool ten o'clock on Monday. Our 
 American business shall be well digested during my absence. Write 
 me a line in return. Excuse great haste. God bless you ! 
 
 S. Peice. 
 
 * Mr. Wilson's only son, named after his godfather, the present Duke of 
 Northumberland, prematurely taken from this world to a better. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 825 
 
 In the autumn of this year Mr. Mathews accepted a dramatic 
 engagement for a few weeks at the English Opera-house, in the 
 course of which one of the most genuine farces ever produced 
 upon the Enghsh stage* was brought forward, in which Mr. 
 Peake, the author, displayed Mr. Mathews's powers to peculiar 
 advantage in the character of Trefoil. 
 
 After his engagement at the English Opera-house, Mr. 
 Mathews made a short tour. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Liverpool, Oct. 31st, 1826. 
 Here I am at the Waterloo ; and right glad to be in a comfortable 
 house, for the weather is wretched — heartbreaking. 
 
 I spent a very jolly day with Speidell at St. John's College, and 
 proceeded, on Thursday, to Stratford. Dined with Saunders — and sat 
 up all night reading by the kitchen fire (no other in the house) at the 
 Lion, to be ready lor a coach that always came at half-past three until 
 Friday morning, when it arrived at five ; by which I got to Birming- 
 ham only ten minutes before my Manchester coach started, into which 
 I trundled with three damp strangers.-^ 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 Hampton Court Palace, Nov. 26, 1826. 
 
 The Earl of Erroll is commanded by His Koyal Highness the Duke 
 of Clarence to request the favour of Mr. Mathews's company, on 
 Friday evening next, at Bush}' House. 
 
 Lord Erroll requests the pleasure of Mr. Mathews's company at 
 dinner, on that day, at six o'clock. Lord Erroll will have a bed ready 
 for Mr. Mathews. 
 
 After several previous arrangements (and disarrangements) 
 for Mr. Mathews to entertain the Duke of Clarence, the time 
 had really come. He accepted Lord ErroU's invitation, and on 
 the day in question went to Bushy. In the evening he accom- 
 panied his noble host to the duke's palace, and performed to a 
 select party there, returning to Lord ErroU's for the night. 
 
 On the following morning Mr. Mathews was requested to 
 attend upon the Duke ; and, on his arrival, was shown into the 
 room where his Royal Highness and the Duchess had just 
 breakfasted. The latter, with great condescension, said a few 
 words in compliment to the entertainment she had received on 
 
 * "Before Breakfast." 
 + Amongst the eccentric sayings of Mr. Brummel ("Beau Brummel") is 
 recorded, that he ascribed a severe cold, then aflfecting him, to the casualty of 
 being shown into a room with a damp stranger. 
 
826 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 the previous niglit, and then left the room. The next moment 
 Mr. Mathews's eye was fixed upon a large-sized portrait of 
 Mrs. Jordan, hanging up, I think, over the chimney-piece. The 
 Duke, observing this, said, " I know you have a collection of 
 theatrical portraits, Mr. Mathews, which I shall ask to see some 
 day. I hope you have not one like that ? " My husband did 
 not quite understand the question, and his look probably ex- 
 pressed his perplexity, for the Duke added, " I mean so good a 
 likeness. I should be vexed that anybody possessed such a one 
 but myself— a better it is not possible to find, and I should not 
 like anybody else to have as good a one." 
 
 Mr. Mathews replied that it was indeed excellent, and that he 
 was not so fortunate as to possess so true a resemblance. The 
 Duke then gazed upon the picture, saying, with emotion and 
 strong emphasis, "She was one of the best of women, Mr. 
 Mathews." My husband felt that the Duke was sincere in his 
 belief: indeed, there was something so affecting in his manner of 
 paying this simple and spontaneous tribute to the memory of the 
 mother of his children, that it brought tears into the eyes of 
 him to whom it was addressed. The Duke, perceiving this, put 
 forth his hand, and pressing that of my husband, added, " You 
 knew her, Mathews ; therefore must have known her excellence." 
 
 After a short and pensive pause, the Duke diverted the con- 
 versation from the interesting subject into which he had been 
 betrayed, to the scene of the previous night ; and, after com- 
 menting upon what most pleased him, in his characteristically 
 blunt manner said something in reference to his obligations, and 
 not very extensive means to be liberal. This was touching my 
 husband on the tenderest point ; and while he hesitated in what 
 becoming manner he could tell one of the royal family that he 
 did not Hke payment of any kind out of the regular routine of 
 his profession, even for "obliging" him, the Duke put a little 
 case into his hand (not without some embarrassment in his own 
 manner at the awkward position in which it was evident my 
 husband felt himself), and said, " Mathews, I am not rich enough 
 to remunerate such talent as yours, or make a suitable return 
 for your kind exertions of last night, which delighted us all ; 
 but I hope you will gratify me by your acceptance of the con- 
 tents of this little purse, for the purpose of purchasing some 
 small addition to your collection of paintings, in remembrance 
 of me and of the original of that portrait."* 
 
 * The case contained a 50?. note. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 327 
 
 This was so gracefully though simply expressed, that my 
 husband made his bow in acknowledgment, and departed, deeply 
 touched at the feeling evidence of the Duke's recollections of 
 what had been. 
 
 In relating this fact I feel unconscious that I am committing 
 an impropriety ; for, in my estimation, the King of England 
 lost nothing of the respect felt for him, by the admitted fact 
 that the Prince had loved the mother of his children. 
 
 On the 8th of March, the English Opera-house, for the eighth 
 season, presented Mr. Mathews " At Home." This was the 
 announcement : — 
 
 HOME CIRCUIT; or, LONDON GLEANINGS. 
 
 Paet I. — Exordium. — Pecuniary Crisis, Civic Explanation of. — 
 Jack Project. — Schemes. — Delights of Country Acquaintance. — Visit 
 to Fulham. — Project's Plan to make Mr. Mathews's Fortune by a mere 
 
 Song — Medley of Melodists. 
 
 Gleanings — Mr. Domus: '' LooJc at Some." — Commodore Cos- 
 mogony: ^^ Look Abroad." — Mr. Zachary Barnacle : ^^ Look Every- 
 where." — Monument on Fish-street Hill, Pompey's Pillar. — St. Paul's, 
 St. Peter's. — River Thames, River Nile. — Tower of London, Tower of 
 Pekin. — CoflFee House Directory. — Hermitage Hall, Fulham. 
 
 Song — Short Stages. 
 
 More Gleanings — Ex- Justice, Lawyer Muzzle. — Penal Code. — " Do 
 you know what you are doing ?" — Statutes at Large. — Mr. Spinks, 
 Rebus Writer, Ladies' Diary. — Black Eyes and Black Act. — Feline 
 Oculist. — Benefit of Betting. — Legal Liabilities. — Mr. Honeyman and 
 his Honeymoon. — Marriage. — Barnacle's Bewailings : " Losing all our 
 Amusements." — Visit to Theatrical Gallery proposed, previous to which, 
 a Peep at the Auction Mart, and 
 
 Royal Exchange — in a Song. 
 
 Paet II. 
 
 A MoNOPOLTLOGUE, to introduce the Dead alive, entitled 
 Mathews's Deeam ; oe, the Theateical Galleey ! 
 
 In which will be exhibited whole-length Portraits of the la,te 
 
 Messrs. Suett, in Dicky Gossip. 
 
 Kemble, in JPenruddock. 
 
 King, in Sir Peter Teazle. 
 
 Cooke, in Sir Pertinax Macsycophant. 
 Incledon, in The Storm. 
 
 Cum multis aliis post obit Recollections, depicted from the Life, 
 by Mr. Mathews.— The Scene painted by Mr. Roberts. 
 
828 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 Paet III.— Gleanings continued. 
 
 Leather Lane Parthenon, or Mechanical Athenaeum. — Mr. Sandy 
 M'Sillergrip, with his Lecture. — Arts and Sciences made Easy. — 
 Barnacle redivivus. — More Lamentations. — Gog and Magog.— Hurdy- 
 gurdies. — Decay of Dancing Bears. — Loss of the Lotteries. — Things 
 that were. 
 
 Song — Things that were not. 
 
 Fresh Gleanings — Thames Expedition, — Commodore Cosmogony's 
 Colloquies. — Ked House, Battersea; Golden House, Bhurtpore. — 
 Batter-sea, Black Sea, Dead Sea, and Red Sea. — Pigeon-shooting : 
 Tiger-shooting. — Vauxhall Haras : Westphalia Hams. — Visit to the 
 Exhibition proposed. — Sketch in Water Colours. — Joe Hatch, the 
 Thames Chancellor, Boat Barrister, and Regal Legal Waterman. — 
 Somerset House. 
 
 Song — Royal Academy. 
 
 Additional Gleanings — Mr. Aspinall and his Man Andrew. — Per- 
 sonification of Fear. — Castellated Mansion. — Alarms and Alarum Bells. 
 Prevention is better than Cure. — Gipsies. — Robberies forestalled. — Mr. 
 Muzzle : more Statutes. — Mr. Spinks : Reiteration of Rebuses. —Com- 
 pounding Felony. — Real Cockney Gleanings. 
 
 Song — Epping Hunt. 
 Messrs. Cosmogony, Muzzle, Spinks, and Mathews. — Finale. 
 
 The Songs will be accompanied on the Pianoforte by Mr. James T. 
 Harris, who will play favourite Rondos between the Parts. 
 
 Mr. Mathews, after reaping a rich harvest in foreign countries, places 
 his scenes and adventures of character at home, within the sound of 
 Bow bell, where he finds that, to the acute observei-, much remains to 
 be explored. His chief associates are Commodore Cosmogony, a "travel- 
 ler," with as exhaustless a fund of invention as Major Longbow himself, 
 and so attached to the rare sights to be met with abroad, that he owns no 
 acquaintance with the Monument, St. Paul's, or the Thames ; Lawyer 
 Muzzle, a walking digest of the statutes at large, who, for the simplest 
 action, can quote a law which makes it penal ; Mr. Zachary Barnacle, a 
 pessimist ; and Spinks, a village tradesman, addicted to the Muses, who 
 retails bad jokes and stale conundrums, to which Mathews contrives, how- 
 ever, by his inimitable manner, to give more effect than the most original 
 wit and humour would have produced in other hands. A butt like this 
 always forms a part of Mathews's dramatis personcs. Various other 
 characters are introduced in the course of the adventures, which include 
 a journey to town in one of the " short stages," the various interruptions 
 in which, with the agony of an inside passenger, who has an engage- 
 ment (military time) to dinner, are described with great humour. A 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. S29 
 
 visit to the Royal Exchange, given with great spirit; a scene at the 
 Auction Mart ; a visit to the Royal Academy ; and the mysteries, in 
 full description, of the Epping Hunt. One of the best occasional de- 
 lineations of character is that of Joe Hatch, a waterman, who is also 
 termed the Thaines Chancellor and Boat Barrister, a fellow (we presume 
 a real portrait, though we have not the good fortune to know the 
 original) who lays down the law of his craft, promotes and allays 
 quarrels, and gratifies his fare with a " long tough yarn " of his own 
 adventures. A Mr. Aspinall, who is in constant dread of thieves, and 
 who sends out his servants to any suspicious fellow he sees, with a 
 supplj'of money or clothing, to prevent his being robbed and murdered, 
 is humorously drawn. Several songs are interspersed in Mr. Mathews's 
 best style of humour. The entertainment winds up with a monopoly- 
 logUe, called " Mathews's Dream ; or, the Theatrical Gallery ;" in the 
 course of which he introduces imitations of Suett, Kemble, King, Cooke, 
 Incledon, and other eminent performers now no more. 
 
 Mathews's Theatrical Gallery has been a " palpable hit." He has 
 never done anything more ably ; it is food for every mouth, and is at 
 once the most agreeable and most finished mode of conveying a personal 
 imitation. Mr. Mathews has herein a double gratification ; for, in 
 eliciting the unbounded applause which his performance does, he is only 
 receiving, in a multiplied degree, the admiration of those numerous 
 visitors to the " Real Simon Pure " at Kentish Town, his own residence, 
 in which his genius, industry, and property have erected a monument to 
 their owner's character, that will render it illustrious for ever and ever. 
 We cannot imagine a more gratifying circumstance to any man, than 
 the homage which is nightly paid to Mr. Mathews in this Monopoly- 
 logue ; and it must be an earnest to him, that, highly as his abilities 
 are rated by every one who saw him, it is an admiration inferior, if 
 possible, to that which is bestowed on the consequence and respectability 
 which his taste has thrown around his profession. 
 
 During my husband's absence from town, Mr. Price reiterated 
 liis earnest desire to engage him at Drury-lane this season, in a 
 letter addressed to Mr. Mathews's confidential friend and adviser 
 upon all important business, and requesting his influence in 
 favour of such an arrangement. This apphcation led the way 
 to a serious negotiation between the parties, the result of 
 which will hereafter appear. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Brighton, 26th July, 1827. 
 
 I send a journal. Wednesday morning, rose at half-past eight; 
 started at half-past nine ; wind west, with breezes, cloudy and threaten- 
 ing. Arrived at Croydon at eleven; at halt^past, slight rain. Red 
 Hill ; baited my horse, but fasted my&elf. Read Napoleon j counted 
 
330 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 six Brighton coaches in the hour I remained there. Arrived at Crawley, 
 half-past three ; received by David, a hurdy-gurdy organ, and Pan- 
 pipes, French itinerants, who played under my window all dinner-time, 
 annoying me very much, for which I gave them sixpence. Bad dinner ; 
 three mutton chops totally spoiled — fried and over-done — dirty young 
 potatoes. Started at half-past five. T-ee-d at Hickstead, and arrived 
 at half-past nine at Brighton. Here I am, at the "old Villain's." 
 Went into a warm bath ; and after listening to the prattle of Russell 
 for two hours, went to bed ; rose at eleven ; rehearsed my song. 
 
 I was quite delighted with " The Rendezvous," which is a real good 
 piece, quite French, and very well put together for our stage, and, 
 moreover, very well acted. I had a capital front seat on a chair in the 
 iront boxes, which I enjoyed all in my way till the end of " The Rendez- 
 vous," when Mrs. Elliot spied me, and beckoned me to her side box ; 
 where I saw the last piece not in my way, for she talked to me all the 
 time. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 Mr. Mathews used to remark, that odd characters seemed 
 placed purposely in his way, that he might pick them up. It is 
 certain that he saw more oddities than most people. Whether 
 this arose from a fine mental perception of peculiarities, or an 
 aptness to describe what other eyes either altogether overlooked, 
 or thought not of describing ; or, whether he was, as he said, 
 favoured in such opportunities, it is certain that he constantly 
 found something to add to his rich stores of character. 
 
 Being engaged to a late dinner, Mr. Mathews, in compliance 
 with the demand of his appetite, which had been lately accus- 
 tomed to an earlier hour, had ordered a mutton chop to be 
 brought up to him one day, at the Old Ship. As he was waiting 
 for it, a " gentleman " was announced by the waiter, who, as 
 usual with such people, seemed delighted at showing up a 
 nuisance, — and immediately made his appearance in the room. 
 He was a perfect stranger ; and had the sun not shone brilliantly 
 all that day, or had my husband been advertised to make his 
 bow in public that night, woe would it have been to the doughty 
 stranger who now addressed him with impunity. He was a little, 
 fat, red-faced man, of respectable appearance, with his head 
 frosted over with pomatum and powder, like a twelfth-cake. 
 " Jfr. Mathus, I presume ? " asked the little gentleman, with his 
 hat in his hand, at the same time making a low bow. — " Yes, 
 Sir," mildly answered my husband ; " what is your pleasure with 
 me ? " — " Why, Sir," chuckled the good-humoured intruder, as 
 he stood gazing somewhat in the fashion of a sight-seer who 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. S31 
 
 has paid for such privilege; "why, Sir — a — a — I have taken, 
 perhaps, a great Hberty, which I beg you'll excuse. The fact is 
 — a — a — I never go to a playhouse ; but — a — rally — a — a — I 
 have heard much of you ; and I have even read much about you, 
 Sir. It is said that you are an uncommon character. I am 
 going away this afternoon ; and, hearing that you were in 
 Brighton, raily I could not resist the opportoonity of finding 
 you out before my departur, being anxious — a — a — a — to see 
 how you presented yourself to the eye ! " 
 
 As I have said, Mr. Mathews was in a favourable state of 
 spirits, and, moreover, was amused at the novelty of the style of 
 this raily simple and inoffensive person. He therefore deter- 
 mined to humour his visitor, and accordingly said, in answer to 
 his droll address — 
 
 " Well, Sir ; I hope my appearance is satisfactory ?'* 
 
 "Truly so," replied the little plump man, as he measured him 
 with his eye ; " 1 look upon it. Sir, that you have had more 
 whimsical adventurs and odd things happen to you than ever 
 occurred to any other man ? " 
 
 "Why, yes, Sir," said Mr. Mathews, "odd things do some- 
 times occur, as you say. Sir." 
 
 At this moment the waiter entered with the tray ; when Mr. 
 Mathews invited the stranger to sit down, adding, " As you 
 have come to see a strange animal, it is lucky you have found 
 him at feeding-time ; will you partake ? " 
 
 "By no means," bowed the little portly gentleman. " Sir, I 
 will no longer intrude ; for raily, Mr. Mathns, I have taken a 
 freedom ; but I could not resist the opportoonity that offered ; 
 and all I have to say is, that I have been very much grati- 
 fied by your benign and generous reception. Sir, your very 
 obedient." 
 
 Thus saying, the little corpulent stranger bowed and backed 
 himself out of the room, with much gravity and apparent satis- 
 faction. 
 
 About the end of August, Mr. Price prevailed upon my hus- 
 band to accept the long-proffered engagement, for the beginning 
 of next year, at Drury-lane Theatre. I say prevailed, because 
 the terms offered were, I may say, of so extravagantly liberal a 
 nature, that Mr. Mathews, with his characteristic modesty and 
 conscientious consideratiou for others, conceived it impossible 
 that such an engagement could be reciprocally beneficial to 
 manager and actor. On the other side, in resigning his " At 
 
S32 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 Home " season, the sacrifice required great compensation in any 
 other undertaking ; and he was unwilling to risk either a severe 
 loss to himself, by accepting moderate terms from Mr. Price, or 
 a similar disadvantage to so generous a person, by consenting to 
 the splendid offer so urgently pressed upon him. However, Mr. 
 Price at last prevailed; and I believe Mr. Mathews's nightly 
 salary exceeded any that had then been given to a comic 
 performer. 
 
 After this engagement was finally arranged, my husband was 
 often depressed at the possibility of his friend having made a 
 bad bargain, and as often declared his own conviction that they 
 would be mutually harassed and disappointed. "For," he 
 would say to me, " if I don't brhig the money, how can I think 
 of taking such sums out of Price's pocket ? It's out of the 
 question. However, he's an obstinate fellow, and I could not 
 refuse him ; but we shall both be losers." Mr. Price, notwith- 
 standing, proved himself, as in his general conduct, not pnly a 
 liberal man, but one of consummate judgment, as the result will 
 show in the present case. 
 
 To Barron Field, Esq.* 
 
 Oct. 4tli, 1827. 
 
 I am not in humour to return a fit reply to your pleasant letter. We 
 are fairly housed at Enfield, and an angel shall not persuade me to 
 wicked London again. We have now six sabbath days in a week for — 
 none ! The change has worked on my sister's mind, to make her ill ; 
 and I must wait a tedious time before we can hope to enjoy this place 
 in unison. Enjoy it, when she recovers, I know we shall. I see no 
 shadow, but in her illness, for repenting the step ! For Mathews — I 
 know my own utter unfitness for such a task.f I am no hand at 
 describing costumes, a great requisite in an account of mannered pic- 
 tures. I have not the slightest acquaintance with pi(;torial language 
 even. An imitator of me, or rather pretender to be me, in his Rejected 
 Addresses, has made me minute!}' describe the dresses of the poissardes 
 at Calais ! — I could as soon resolve Euclid.* I have no eye for forms 
 and fashions. I substitute analysis, and get rid of the phenomenon by 
 slurring in for its impression. I am sure you must have observed this 
 defect, or peculiarity, in my writings ; else the delight would be incal- 
 culable in doing such a thing for Mathews, whom 1 greatly like — and 
 Mrs. Mathews, whom I almost greatlier like. What a feast 'twould be 
 to be sitting at the pictures painting 'em into words ; but I could almost 
 
 * A very early and much -regarded friend of ours. 
 + Mr. Lamb Lad been asked for a catalogue of the gallery of our friend, 
 who justly believed he would write charmingly upon the subject, as he after- 
 wards proved he could. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 833 
 
 as soon make words into pictures. I speak this deliberately, and not 
 out of modesty. I pretty well know what I can't do. 
 
 My sister's verses are homely, but just what they should be ; I send 
 them, not for the poetry, but the good sense and good will of them. I 
 was beginning to transcribe ; but Emma is sadly jealous of its getting 
 into more hands, and I won't spoil it in her eyes by divulging it. 
 Come to Enfield and read it. As my poor cousin, the bookbinder, now 
 with God, told me, most sentimentally, that having purchased a picture 
 of fish at a dead man's sale, his heart ached to see how the widow 
 grieved to part with it, being her dear husband's favourite ; and he 
 almost apologized for his generosity by saying he could not help telling 
 the widow she was " welcome to come and look at it" — e.g., at his 
 house — " as often as she pleased." There was the germ of generosity 
 in an uneducated mind. He had just reading enough from the backs 
 of books for the " nee sinit esse feros' — had he read inside, the same 
 impulse would have led him to give back the two-guinea thing — with 
 a request to see it, now and then, at her house. We are parroted into 
 delicacy. — Thus you have a tale for a Sonnet. 
 
 Adieu ! with (imagine both) our loves. C. Lamb. 
 
 On the last night of this year (1827), Mr. Mathews made 
 his appearance at Drury-lane Theatre in the characters of Sir 
 Fretful Plagiary in " The Critic," and Bushin in " Killing no 
 Murder." The whole of the day, I remember, he was exceed- 
 ingly depressed, and no assurances could give him confidence 
 against his inward conviction that the engagement would be a 
 failure as to attraction. " How could it be otherwise ? " he 
 would reason : " Two old and hackneyed pieces — novelty might 
 have done something," &c. I confess I also had my misgivings ; 
 and at one moment had settled not to go to a box reserved for 
 me ; but my fears were overruled by a judicious friend, who 
 accompanied me to the theatre. 
 
 On our arrival we were met by crowds coming out from the 
 several doors. What could this mean ? what had happened ? 
 (for the truth never occurred to me.) My questions were 
 speedily answered by our entrance into the lobby, where a scene 
 of confusion presented itself, from a press for places by those 
 who had improvidently trusted to the average of unlet boxes, 
 and the anxiety of others to get admission to those which they 
 had secured. In short, when we were seated, and commanded a 
 view of the house, we found it crammed in every part ! 
 
 The result of this night's performance was a source of much 
 comfort, as well as pride, to Mr. Mathews, although such houses 
 could not be expected after the first night. Such a beginning, 
 however, augured a success which might satisfy all Mr. Price's 
 
834j the life and coerespondence of 
 
 calculations ; but again and again the theatre was filled in the 
 same manner, and the same performances were repeated, with 
 similar effects, successively thirteen nights. 
 
 As an instance of candour and generosity, generally considered 
 contrary to the arcanum of management, I must here record that, 
 at the conclusion of only part of the term of the engagement, 
 Mr. Price informed Mr. Mathews that he had then cleared the 
 whole amount of his engagement, with a considerable profit 
 upon it. 
 
 Most satisfactory was this result. Indeed, it was altogether 
 creditable to the feelings of both actor and manager. 
 
&. T. I,3>yis^ -puna. 
 
 Mi^ MATHEWS 
 
 Loodon I Roufledcv- - '.tledge 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 335 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 Mr. Mathews takes a share in the Adelphi Theatre with Mr. Yates — Per- 
 formances at Brighton with Mr. Yates — Anecdote of Mr. Listen — Letters 
 to Mrs. Mathews: Berkeley Castle: Performances at Cheltenham — Mr. 
 Mathews's dinner miseries — Letters to Mrs. Mathews — Letter from Mr. C.J. 
 Mathews to Mrs. Mathews : Journal of a residence in Italy. 
 
 I SHALL not enter into the particulars of an event which was 
 decided upon at this period, but leave my husband's succeeding 
 letter to explain it to the reader. 
 
 To Henry B, Gyles, Esq. 
 
 Kentish Town, June 17th, 1828. 
 
 Dear Gyllt, — I am delighted indeed to hear you say you are 
 settled, and sincerely hope that you may be in the same mind two years 
 hence. I had acted OldsMrt on Saturday night, and, coming home, 
 found your letter with the quotations. Ha ! ha ! droll enough ! Now 
 you will be astonished ! Prepare for wonder ! You are the first, too ; 
 nobody knows it yet but four on earth. Don't look over leaf — don't 
 mention it, now. Will you believe it ? You won't. Well, then, I 
 have taken — no, not taken — but it's all as good as done ; that is, I 
 shall have it — but nothing settled yet — that is, not signed — but it's all 
 right ! I know you will stare more than you have made me stare. I 
 am about to commence manager ! — I am to have the Adelphi with 
 Yates ! Ha ! stare ! do ! and say, when he, that has so sworn ! Yes, 
 he 1 cannot enter into particulars, but you must think. 
 
 I will come and see you — I will. I have a friend at Wooton, who 
 has asked me. I have often promised Colonel Berkeley, who reminded 
 me last Saturday of it, &c. I will come — indeed I will, this summer. 
 
 My wife's love to your wife. 
 
 Ever thine, Mat. 
 
 Pre-eminently successful and lucrative as Mr. Mathews's en- 
 gagement at Drury-lane had proved, the size of the stage made 
 acting a serious suffering to him ; his lameness having increased ex- 
 cessively, and in proportion to the frequency of performing upon it. 
 Mr. Price offered him a renewal of his late engagement for the 
 
836 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 following season, on the same liberal terms ; but his share in the 
 Adelphi offering another source of gain, with less exertion, and 
 with less bodily pain, from the contracted sphere of action, he 
 was induced to refuse Mr. Price his future co-operation. When 
 all arrangements were complete regarding the new partnership, 
 Mr. Yates and mj husband set forth together on a tour, com- 
 bining their forces for their mutual profit. 
 
 During one of these performances at Brighton, .while Mr. 
 Mathews was singing that part of his "Auction Song," where 
 he solicits biddings for a particular "lot," after looking round 
 the house, and making several appeals, and exclaiming " Only 
 three pounds offered — only three," a voice from one of the 
 public boxes, which it was impossible to mistake, cried out 
 "Four!" He turned to the spot, to which every other eye 
 also was directed. Though taken by surprise, he was not, how- 
 ever, thrown off his guard, but bowing smartly ct la Rohins, 
 exclaimed, "Much obhged; yours. Sir." This bidding was 
 made by Mr. Liston, who was seized, as he afterwards declared, 
 with an irresistible desire to put up for a lot, in order to surprise 
 his brother actor, and was confounded after he had done it, and 
 heard the roar of laughter he had caused, and the notice he had 
 drawn upon himself. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Cheltenham, 27th July, 1828. 
 
 Arrived here to dinner, and went to the play, where we saw the dis- 
 tinguished amateurs in Henry IV. The Colonel in the Prince, the 
 Captain in Falstaff, and C. Kemble in Sotspur. 'Pen ray word, very 
 well ; very well indeed — for gentlemen. The Colonel really good. 
 
 We are going off to-day to Berkeley Castle, to dine. I am beau- 
 tifully well. 
 
 Chaeles Mathews. 
 
 A promise of a plain dinner was always a temptation to him ; 
 because, being divested of the usual routine of dishes, it would 
 bring him quickly to his great treat of the day, namely, the 
 first pinch of snuff, which he never indulged in until the cheese 
 was removed. Porter was a beverage for which he felt a positive 
 disgust ; and it was a favourite joke of Mr. Liston's, whenever 
 they dined together at any house where they had not been in 
 the habit of visiting, to whisper the servants at different periods 
 of the dinner, not only to hand him various side-dishes repeatedly, 
 but to present him with well-frothed glasses of porter or ale ; 
 and the contriver so timed these offerings, that the supplies were 
 ^ure to reach him in the midst of some remarks he was making, 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 337 
 
 or to the interruption of something interesting or amusing that 
 he was relating or listening to. It was laughable to see the 
 gradual surprise and embarrassment, and ultimate impatience, of 
 the persecuted person at such repeated annoyance, until his eye 
 caught that of his funny tormentor. He then understood the 
 cause of such unwelcome attentions, and his annoyance ceased, 
 as it always did at the detection of any fun in his "little 
 brother," as he, on such occasions, called Mr. Liston; whose 
 high spirits, contrasted with his generally pensive habit of mind, 
 were as exuberant as those of a boy, when "i' the vein," and 
 irresistible as his most successful comedy in public. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Ross, Sunday, September 2nd, 1828. 
 
 To any person who had not such a son as we have I should attempt 
 a description of my rapturous delight, last' night, at the receipt of that 
 most welcome frank. If I had not been allowed to open it until to-day, 
 I should have been satisfied that all was right. The Hereford folks 
 benefited by it ; it put me into tip-top spirits. The first two persons I 
 saw were Rolls and son ! This is a sweet place. We only want you 
 here to make us complete. The boat is announced to take us an 
 excursion on the Wye ; so be content with hearing all is well. Our 
 receipts since Tuesday, the 21st, have been 200/. clear. 
 
 The fairy-glass in Charles's letter is more than beautiful — it is 
 exquisite ! and if anything were wanting to make our love for him 
 complete, this must rivet it. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 The letter above alluded to, one of a long series equally 
 interesting, I shall stand excused for inserting. Mr. Coleridge 
 happening to be with me when this letter arrived, I read it to 
 him, and he was so pleased that he begged me to lend it to him 
 shortly after, with other letters previously seen on the same 
 subject, as he fancied he could write a poem from them, and 
 should like to try. In a few days he returned the letters, with 
 a note from himself, of which a mother may be pardoned for 
 being proud. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Dear Mes. Mathews, — It would be profanation even to alter the 
 position of a word in your dear son's sweet letter in the same language, 
 much more to hazard such substitutes as rhyme and verse might 
 require. But even the genius of a Byron could not be better employed 
 than in translating them into a Greek poem. They are poetry of the 
 best kind — imagination — the power of picturesque arrangement and 
 
 z 
 
338 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 playful will in the service of a pure, most affectionate heart. From my 
 own very heart I congratulate you on such a son, 
 
 S. T. Coleridge * 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Peroi, July 13th, 1828. 
 
 My dearest Mother, — By a turn of fate, I am enjoying myself 
 mightily. Two days after my last letter, I went on a little trip on 
 horseback with the lawyer of Pola, a young German, to visit the 
 neighbouring villages, and I had a most delightful day. From Polaf 
 we went to the Isle of Olives, not very far distant, where we found the 
 Sclavonian peasants celebrating a festival ; and, after taking our share 
 in the dancing and merriment for a couple of hours, we continued our 
 journey to Dignano, a little village, only celebrated from the remarkable 
 dress of the peasants. I was very m.uch pleased with them. The 
 women (amongst whom were some very pretty girls) were dressed 
 exactly in the style of the Venetian ladies of old, as we see thera in 
 Canal etti's pictures, and had a most surprising effect as they stood in 
 groups about the town. My new-found friend, seeing me so much 
 delighted with these costumes, proposed extending our ride to Peroi, 
 another small village, five miles distant, and one of the wonders of 
 Istria; being a small colony of Greeks (consisting of about sixty 
 families, all peasants) which preserves its original language in the midst 
 of Italians, Istrians, and Sclavonians. I jumped at the proposal, and 
 w^as amply repaid for my trouble. I never met with anything so 
 elegant and so picturesque as these people : all the girls very handsome, 
 particularly tall and well made, and the men equally so. Their faces 
 are strictly Greek, and their dress quite superb. 
 
 I had scarcely entered the place when I determined upon removing 
 there next day, it being only seven miles from Pola ; and accordingly, 
 picking out the prettiest house, and that which contained the prettiest 
 girls, I told thera my intentions, and gave them reason to expect me. 
 It happened that this family was related to my landlord, Cronopoli, at 
 Pola, who was also a Greek, which gave me great facility in obtaining 
 this favour ; for it is considered a great favour, and one never granted 
 to strangers, to take up their abode amongst them. 
 
 The day before yesterday I arrived, with all my drawing materials, 
 clothes, &c, and here I am established. On my arrival, I explained 
 that I came to be one of the family, and not to be treated as a gentle- 
 man ; and accordingly I proceeded with them to the fields to help the 
 cutting of the barley ; and, to their great delight, dressed myself in 
 their costume, which I did to my own great delight also. In short, I 
 found myself once more, as among the Neapolitan peasantry, happy 
 
 * In the course of Mr. Coleridge's correspondence, published soon after his 
 death, he mentions these letters to a friend with high encomium, 
 t In Istria. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 339 
 
 amidst the innocent simplicity and real enjoyments of unsophisticated 
 nature. The perfect pleasure I felt while dancing, singing, and playing 
 the guitar to these beautiful Greek girls I cannot tell you, enhanced by 
 the feeling that I had already usurped a small nook in their hearts by 
 having thus accommodated myself to their manners. It was quite 
 charming to see them gradually throwing off the reserve of the first 
 day, and beginning to regard me as one of the family. The pride they 
 had in dressing me, and taking me about with them, was great. I had 
 good cause to wear out my legs in dancing with them on the rough 
 stones of the village, for one after another engaged with me till I had 
 gone through the whole string. I then made a sketch of one of them, 
 who had been married about a month, in her bridal dress, a copy of 
 which I gave her. 
 
 I am up and out with them in the fields, partaking of their food as 
 well as of their pursuits ; the acme of which consists in a couple of 
 hard eggs and a bit of brown bread ; not being quite able to accommodate 
 my stomach to their more ordinary fare of bread cooked in oil and 
 vinegar, and dreadfully fat bacon. Fancy me at this moment writing 
 to you, dressed in a white sort of body and petticoat, richly worked in 
 red, blue, and yellow silk ; an embroidered handkerchief on my head, 
 and red stockings, bound with red sashes up to the knee, and sheepskin 
 sandals. I wish Lewis were here to make you a sketch of me. 
 
 Peroi is a little paradise. I begin quite to love the people, and fancy 
 myself one of them. I am called by them all " Sukey !" Is not that 
 a sweet name ? As spelt and pronounced in England it is anything 
 but enchanting ; but in Greek, as every schoolboy will tell you, it means 
 " my soul," and is a term of the greatest affection. 
 
 What would I not give if you could possess, through the means of 
 some beneficent fairy, the glass that I have read of in some child's 
 book, in which the possessor could behold, at every moment of the day, 
 the absent person, and contemplate his occupations and situations. The 
 first thing in the morning you would look in the glass (as you no doubt 
 do as it is), and, instead of beholding yourself in a laced nightcap, with 
 sky-blue bandeau, you would see me (but you must get up at three 
 o'clock to do so) sitting on a stone bench, surrounded by half-a-dozen 
 pretty innocent girls ; the one adjusting my head and tying on my 
 worked handkerchief; another lacing my sandals, and all occupied in 
 the decoration of their new-found toy. Near me you would see others, 
 with their beautiful black hair hanging down to their waists, and 
 undergoing the operation of plaiting, till it takes the most beautiful 
 classic form that can be desired. Here and there, at intervals, ar© 
 three or four fine tall lads, with ample mustachios, trotting to the fields ' 
 on horseback, with large trusses of straw before them, and saddle-bags 
 hanging on each side, displaying, in their capacious, gaping mouths 
 (not the lads, but the saddle-bags), the store of brown-bread and wine- 
 kegs for their banquet ; and a young foal ambling after her aged mother, 
 and now and then seizing her by her swishy tail, and kicking from pure 
 fun and frolic. Then will pass by a little, brown, bare-legged boy, with a 
 
 z2 
 
24iO THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 large flock of sheep, with here and there a reverend old ram, decorated 
 with bells and red ribbons ; a most picturesque group, making dust 
 enough to smother the whole village. ^ 
 
 You will gaze for a moment in admiration at the beauty of the lad ; 
 his fine Greek face and large intelligent eyes, dressed only in a sheep- 
 skin, thrown most gracefully over him, and confined with a crimson 
 sash ; a pair of sandals and a slouched hat defending his two extremities, 
 and a double pipe of rude form resounding through the woods as he 
 saunters after his family. A short time after, you will see the whole 
 village in motion — girls, boys, old men, and old women, and myself in 
 the midst of the throng, moving forward in procession; some with 
 pitchers on their heads, some with baskets in their hands, to begin the 
 labour of the day. You will hear, if your ears are good enough, the 
 choruses of villagers, very different from the c<Mnpositions of Bishop, 
 arranged most harmoniously by themselves, and sung most correctly in 
 parts ; the melody some day you will hear imitated by me, as copied 
 exactly from themselves. During the interval of these choruses you 
 will probably — but you must listen well — hear a solo, though of some- 
 what a more sprightly character, and in a more comprehensible lan- 
 guage, in a voice not imfamiliar to you ; and at the same time you will 
 observe the pleasure without humbug, and the approbation without 
 flattery, expressed upon the smiling countenances of the rest of the 
 party. An hour or two afterwards you, perhaps, will take up the glass 
 again — fancy it a looking-glass, and so you can resume the scrutiny 
 many times through the day without much effort — and you will see the 
 party dispersed in various groups over the landscape, and under the 
 shade of some old trees you will see me lying, with a book in my hand, 
 most probably a Byron or a Moore, in the character of an Arcadian, 
 casting occasional affectionate looks towards my darling peasants at 
 their work, and now and then joined by a girl or two from amongst 
 them, who will sit by my side, and pretend to read my book with me, 
 till called by the rest to their work again; and sometimes you will see them 
 depart — don't be scandalised — with their cheeks slightly coloured, lest 
 their companions should have observed the chaste salute as freely received 
 as given. Then, by about the time my father's step announces his 
 approach to the breakfast-room, while waiting for the arrival of his 
 smoking steak, take a glance at me, sitting as one of my smiling circle, 
 with a hard egg in each hand, a small loaf of whiter bread than the 
 rest (baked on purpose for me, and regarded as a chef d'oeuvre in its 
 kind), on my knees, and a wooden bowl as white as snow before me, full 
 of wine and water, to afford a tolerably easy passage to my frugal fare, 
 while my companions, with appetites scarcely credible, dispose of bucket- 
 ful after bucketful of bread, made into soup by the addition of oil and 
 vinegar, till you begin to doubt whether the feast is performed by 
 elephants or peasants. What would Sir John Carr say to see these 
 girls eat ? He who thinks the merrythought of a pigeon too much for 
 a woman, would stare to see a bucket of vinegar, bread, and oil disappear 
 between the rosy lips that he had just been kissing, and see the languish- 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 341 
 
 ing eyes of a lovely girl throwing aside their jetty fringes to seek the 
 bottom of a three-quart pitcher, which, " high poised in air," travels 
 from mouth to mouth, emptied again and again into the elephantine 
 receptacles of these tender maidens, and, like the tower of Pisa, threat- 
 ening destruction to all around in its fall. The natural consequence of 
 this light repast, added to the heat of an Istrian sun, is a general in- 
 clination to sleep, the girls most modestly seeking some shady spot at a 
 distance somewhat remote from the male part of the community. Then, 
 for a couple of hours, you may put down your glass, while we give 
 ourselves up to sweet slumbers ; first, however, observing me enjoying 
 my privilege as the pet of the party, of lying on the best bit of green, and 
 pillowing my head upon whichever lap I please : a privilege which even 
 the men of the party seemed to think it quite right I should enjoy. 
 
 We'll say now that it is one o'clock. My father has just started for 
 town, to attend an eleven o'clock rehearsal at Drury, and you have just 
 retired to your little boudoir to do a bit of " reading and writing." 
 Presently, after a look at the sketch of me by Lewis, you naturally wish 
 for one more glance at your fairy glass, and see me quietly seated, alone, 
 in my little alcove in my Greek cottage, returned Irom the fields, and 
 occupied with my pen or pencil. 
 
 You now begin to think the whole description almost too romantic to be 
 true. You see a Greek gentleman, in a most picturesque costume, 
 sitting on a settee, under an elegant-shaped arcade, with a pipe in his 
 mouth, as grave as can be desired, occupied in serious pursuits, with a 
 beautiful boy of five years old standing at the table, with a little white 
 embroidered tunic, confined by a crimson sash, a pair of stockings 
 something like those of Scotland, half way up his little legs, a pair of 
 white sheep-skin sandals, and a scarlet cap with a feather in it, carelessly 
 cocked on his little head, cutting bits of paper into moons and stars, 
 with a pair of English scissors. You don't know which to look at : 
 you are in love with the child, and yet you cannot help looking at the 
 gentleman. You can't be deceived. In spite of the dress, the musta- 
 chios, and the alcove, — iu spite of the smell of tobacco, you still 
 discover the features you are in search of You look over his shoulder, 
 and you see a letter addressed to his dearest beloved mother, and un- 
 thinkingly print a kiss upon the glass which, dimmed by the attempt, 
 hides from you the image you were contemplating; and, as the steam 
 which bathed it gradually clears ofi" again, you fancy you see his eyes 
 wet with the tears of true affection, which, glistening still for a mo- 
 ment, seem to indicate his grief at your deception. But you are not 
 deceived ; for, though you cannot see them, believe me, the tears are not 
 a few which, in the midst of all his enjoyments, are sweetly shed at 
 the thought of the affectionate regrets which are ever troubling the 
 bosom of his mother. He sees her at all hours of the day ; he sees his 
 father soothing her sorrow and comforting her with the picture of their 
 son's happiness and well-doing, and reminding her of the unabating 
 love for them both which accompanies him wherever he may be. Though 
 dressed as a Greek, his heart is still English j and all his enjoyments 
 
342 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 in this enchanting abode are in reference to the delight of talking them 
 over in his own darling cottage, calling to mind the warmth of a 
 southern sun by the side of a coal fire, and finding a pleasure most ex- 
 quisite in transferring the kisses of his Greek girls to the beloved lips 
 of his mother. 
 
 But I have passed the boundary in the twinkling of an eye, and find 
 myself far away from Peroi, and all its romance. The very thought of 
 my own real home has destroyed in a moment the fairy spell of my en- 
 chantment, and my marble alcove seems to want a covering of thatch 
 and a weathercock upon it. My little Spiridion looks up in my face, 
 as if he observed an expression upon it different from the one he is 
 accustomed to, and for a moment leaves his moons and stars, as if to be 
 informed of the cause. Would that I could send the little angel flying 
 to you with my letter, and with the power of conveying on his sweet 
 little lips a portion of the pleasure in description that he and I enjoy 
 together. It is a happiness to look in his little innocent face beaming 
 with affection reflected there from my own, — not from my little innocent 
 face, but from the fondness which it manifestly shows towards him. I 
 have made a sketch of the darling pet, which, though it does not do 
 him justice, will convey something of his air. 
 
 • But I find my journal, which I intended to have served for a week, 
 has not even completed a day. My subject is not half exhausted, so 
 that your glass must be used another time to finish the picture. I will 
 leave you now for a while, as I would not have you take a glass too 
 much ; as it is, I fear when you get this long sheet, and have to pay 
 its increased postage, you will fancy you see double, though I hope the 
 pleasure of the draught will, in spite of the consequences, induce you 
 to drink again. 
 
 With love to my dear, dear father, ever your affectionate son, 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 343" 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 The Adelphi Theatre opened by Messrs. Mathews and Yates — Account of the 
 performance — Mr. Mathews in the character of Caleb Pipkin — Annoying 
 inaccuracy — His "first real illness" — His love of eccentric characters — 
 Imputed irritability of Mr. Mathews — His good humour — Origin of the 
 "school orators" — An importunate beggar — Impromptu — Mr. Mathews and 
 Mr. Yates " At Home" at the Adelphi, in 1829 — Programme of the spring 
 entertainment — Popularity of the performance — Mr. Mathews's provincial 
 tour with Mr. Yates — Letters to Mrs. Mathews : travelling adventui-es ; 
 a fearful accident ; providential escape ; arrival at Exeter — Trip to Paris — 
 Mr. Mathews's performance there — Return to England — Engagement of the 
 celebrated elephant, Mademoiselle Djek. 
 
 On the 29th of September, 1828, the Adelphi Theatre was 
 opened under the new partnership of Messrs. Mathews and Yates 
 to a very elegant audience ; Mr. Mathews acting two new charac- 
 ters, written for the occasion. The introductory piece was the 
 production of Mr. Beazley, the well-known architect, and the 
 other was by Mr. Buckstone, the popular actor. 
 
 The following account of this first night- of an unusually 
 successful season is worth preservation here : — 
 
 Messrs. Mathews and Yates — (great names, or, as Pope says, " un- 
 spotted names, and memorable lung,") have conjointly undertaken the 
 management of this delightful little theatre. The bill of fare is of a 
 very attractive character, consisting of a piece entitled, " Wanted a 
 Partner" and a laughable trifle under the name of *' My Absent Son." 
 The first explains to the audience the circumstances under which Messrs. 
 Mathews and Yates present themselves to their notice, and gives the 
 former an admirable opportunity of putting forth some of his ini- 
 mitable power of mimicry. Mr. Yates, it seems, left with the whole 
 theatre on his own hands, wants a partner in the concern, who, it is 
 stipulated, is to be no actor. Mathews accordingly presents himself in 
 the different disguises of a Scotchman, a man of fashion, and a composer 
 of advertisements ; and at last, by appearing in his own person, etfects 
 the object of his visit, and Yates secures a partner. There is much fun 
 about this piece, particularly in Mathews's imitation of Pellegrini, which' 
 is the closest and most. ludicrous we ever saw. The last piece, as we said 
 before, is laughable. Early, however, in the representation, two or three 
 
344 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 determined Michaelmas devotees in the gallery attacked it ; and, though 
 Mr. Mathews, acting under the greatest disadvantages, as all will admit 
 who knew his nervous temperament, made some good points in some 
 rather original as well as good situations, yet he was eventually so 
 completely disturbed by the partial annoyance as to quit his character, 
 step to the front of the stage, and thus address the audience : — Ladies 
 and gentlemen, I very much lament that on the first night of my 
 management, I should have occasion to address you. But I do so as 
 much on account of the author as myself. I have known many of our 
 best farces to be literally hooted from the stage on the first night, when 
 they had not been heard out fairly ; and yet, on being afterwards repre- 
 sented, they secured their station on the stage. 
 
 " If I thought the opinion of the audience was against the performance, 
 I unhesitatingly say that, with all humility, we would bow to it ; but 
 hear us out." 
 
 The piece then proceeded more quietly ; but it had, in reality, an un- 
 fair hearing from the interruption of two or three voices. 
 
 Mr. Mathews's next new character was Caleh Piplcin, in 
 " The May Queen," in which his acting was most particularly 
 humorous. 
 
 In "The May Queen,"* observes a contemporary writer, that ini- 
 mitable actor, Mathews, contrived, as usual, to keep the audience in 
 " roars of laughter" at his versatile humour — a dry humour that we 
 have not seen equalled in our time. His Caleb I*ipkin is a master- 
 piece of acting, true to nature. We know of no one at present on the 
 stage, who could at all come near to him in the personification of this 
 character. The song, " The Humours of a Country Fair"t is unique of 
 its kind ; it ought to be called " Mathews's Humours ;" for, at the 
 present time, none but Mathews could give it as he does. It received, 
 as usual, a hearty encore ; but, like a wise man, who studies human 
 nature, and knows that it likes variety, though he gave the same tune, 
 he gave other words when he answered the encore. 
 
 It was amongst the most admirable features of my husband's 
 acting, and it was often remarked by critics as an instance of 
 his peculiar delicacy of tact and feeling, that, though he fre- 
 quently gave most faithful representations of the lowest life and 
 the most vulgar pursuits, he never did so vulgarly; he never 
 revolted the most fastidious of his hearers. In fact, he was 
 never coarse while he imitated coarseness. It was like looking 
 at one of Wilkie's pictures, delineating a scene in low life, where 
 no idea is conveyed that the painter is himself a low man. This 
 is the peculiar attribute of genius, which, take what form it 
 will, never oflfends. 
 
 * Written by Mr. Buckstone. 
 t Written by 0. J. Mathews. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 345 
 
 This remark strictly applies to Mr. Mathews's performance of 
 the Tinker in "The May Queen;" a man in the commonest 
 grade of life, in a state of half intoxication throughout ; the 
 representation of which, nevertheless, was relished by every 
 portion of the audience ; while the description of a country fair, 
 faithful in every particular, was, from his " handling " of the 
 subject, made a source of general enjoyment. 
 
 The following letter touches upon one of his annoyances : — 
 
 To C. T. Harding, Esq. 
 
 My deae Sir, — I wish I could persuade you, amongst numerous 
 friends, that I never did live at Highgate, nor is Holly Lodge at Hij^h- 
 gate, but in the parish of St. Pancras.* It makes a difference of nearly 
 a day in the delivery of a letter. But for this mistake, you would have 
 had by return an order for my rehearsal to-night. I enclose you an 
 admission for Monday, with pleasure. 
 
 Yours truly, C. Mathews. 
 
 I enclose my address, unaltered for ten years, and your cover, in 
 order to show you the ceremony a letter undergoes that is directed 
 " Highgate." I would not care, but it happens a hundred times in the 
 year. 
 
 These mistakes, in fact, vexed him very much ; and with some 
 reason. We frequently waited dinner for people who had sent a 
 timely excuse for non-attendance ; but owing to " missent " being 
 found upon the letter, we did not receive it til) the next day. 
 
 In the beginning of an unusually cold Lent, Mr. Mathews 
 returned from town upon his pony, complaining of a severe chill 
 all over him, and that his chest felt much affected by it. He be- 
 came feverish, and at last was prevailed upon to send for medical 
 advice. 
 
 This was the first time in his life that his voice was seriously 
 injicred, or his lungs what he called damaged ; and I have since 
 remembered that his health never completely recovered from 
 this attack, although he was restored, as we thought, at the 
 time. He was unable to perform for some days, and remained 
 in the house during the period of his indisposition — a great con- 
 cession on his part, under every circumstance, and which ought 
 to have warned me that there was a more deeply -seated cause 
 for his confinement than a slight cold. Alas ! it was the first 
 outward intimation of the " ills that lurked unseen" in his appa- 
 rently robust constitution. In a subsequent letter to a friend, 
 
 * Holly Lodge, the seat of the Duchess of St. Alban's, and about a hundred 
 yards from Ivy Cottage. 
 
346 THE LIFE AND CORKESPONDENCE OF 
 
 he describes the nature of his sufferings, and truly calls this attack 
 his "first real illness." 
 
 With regard to the imputed irritability of Mr. Mathews, I 
 may say that nothing but indisputable proof could convince him 
 of intentional offence, and then he was depressed, not exaspe- 
 rated, after the first surprise. He felt more in sorrow than in 
 anger when an}'- persons deliberately disappointed his expecta- 
 tions, and acted in contradiction to their own professions ; but 
 the shock over, irritation ceased. He might be said to live 
 without enmities, though no man was more cheated, ill-used, or 
 injured by those in whom he trusted. Of this he was not 
 always insensible, and he sometimes complained, but never re- 
 sented. Personal wrongs he overlooked, but he never could 
 bear to see the objects of whom he had conceived a positively 
 bad opinion — not from resentment, but an involuntary shrinking 
 from meeting with a necessarily altered demeanour persons with 
 whom he had been previously cordial and friendly. He had not 
 stern courage enough to look with severity in the face of those 
 of whom he once thought better, and he therefore avoided them. 
 So unconquerable was this infirmity that when accident threw 
 him unexpectedly in contact with a person of this kind, he had 
 seldom the firmness to refuse, if claimed, the recognition which 
 his sense of their unworthiness prompted him to withhold ; and 
 he never felt lasting resentment but to the actually unfeeling. 
 He never could endure to keep discharged servants about him 
 after their going was determined upon, and would rather suffer 
 any sacrifice of money or convenience. 
 
 With respect to servants he was altogether very peculiar in 
 his feelings. He was extremely timid of a new comer, and 
 when I expected men or women (strangers) in the house, it was 
 always required that he should see them by some contrivance, 
 without their being aware of his scrutiny, before I concluded to 
 receive their services. He would then say, " Ah, I hke that 
 face," or, " I don't like that man ; I shall feel uncomfortable to 
 ask so fine a gentleman to do anything for me ;" or, " I shall be 
 afraid to ask that sullen fellow for what I want." 
 
 He always took a hking to any one that seemed what is called 
 a character ; simplicity of manners was a sure passport to his 
 good graces, and I often admitted and retained very stupid and 
 troublesome people, in consequence of his dislike to what he 
 termed fine servants. I have known him in some moods refuse 
 to dine at a friend's house, where he was very intimate, because 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 347 
 
 he could not bear to encounter on that day the high-bred servant 
 who waited behind his chair. 
 
 On the plea of liking characters about him, he kept a man for 
 a long time, in the quality of dresser at the theatre, whose self- 
 importance was his best recommendation. He unconsciously 
 amused, though he as often teased his master by his peculiar 
 manner. Like all blockheads, his gravity was profound ; he 
 was fond of "adding weight to trifles" when he could; and all 
 this was very diverting to his employer when no anxiety was 
 likely to be touched upon. Above all, he loved a " misery ;" 
 would rather than not have a grievance to relate ; his face wa» 
 doleful and the expressive "title to a tragic volume." His 
 master christened him Batt Owlett, from his love of the dismals, 
 which were in general elicited by the most trivial causes. For 
 example : — One night, while my husband was under the most 
 intense anxiety about the state of Charles's health (who was 
 then extremely ill in Italy), and painfully alive to every look or 
 word that might seem to relate to the sufferer, he went to per- 
 form at the Adelphi, in " The May Queen," with spirits unusually 
 depressed ; " Batt" met him at the door of his dressing-room, 
 with face elongated and eyes cast down, and addressed him in a 
 hollow impressive tone with, " I'm sorry to say, sir, that I have 
 some very unpleasant news to communicate to you!" "Good 
 God!" exclaimed his master, sinking upon a chair, "tell me at 
 once ; don't keep me in suspense." " Well then, sir, I'm sorry 
 to say — I can't find your tinker's hat anywhere!" The next 
 night he met his master with less of misery, but with a brow 
 which meant suspicion in its worst form ; and Mr. Mathews 
 was then saluted by "Batt:" "Sir, I have something very 
 extraordinary to tell you." "Well?" "You will be surprised 
 to hear, sir, that by a very strange coincidence I have found 
 your tinker's hat !" 
 
 The predecessor of this " gentleman" (as he always styled 
 himself) was a person with a perpetual cough (a sound Mr. 
 Mathews held in the greatest horror), yet, because the " Patch 
 was kind," he could not bear to dismiss him. In fact, it re- 
 quired a dependent to commit some flagrant act of insolence or 
 dishonesty to incur his serious displeasure. In all cases where 
 any subordinates were determined to attach their persons and 
 dis-services to him, he had not resolution to shake them off in 
 the ordinary way. Such was his nature, " Fine by defect and 
 amiably weak." 
 
34)8 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 With regard to temper, Mr. Mathews's characteristic irrita- 
 biUtj has been so often spoken of, that persons knowing him 
 only by report must have set him down as one of those of whom 
 everybody had reason to be afraid. This was a mistake. Good- 
 nature was the prominent feature not only of his disposition but 
 behaviour ; as a proof, all those who partook of that quality 
 understood how to meet his peculiarities and nice feelings, and 
 found no difficulty in his society. But he felt so acutely every 
 absence of propriety and tact, in natures coarser than his own, 
 that he wanted presence of mind to hide the immediate effects 
 of such discoveries, and winced under the wounds which his 
 better taste and feeling received. I never heard a really good- 
 tempered person — a good-natured person, I ought to say, for 
 the terms differ materially — who ever accused Mr. Mathews of 
 being otherwise. 
 
 He seldom expressed irritation but his unintentional drollery 
 convulsed all present with laughter, which sometimes added to 
 his vexation, but more frequently restored him to good humour, 
 when I explained to him the ludicrous sense into which his 
 phrases were capable of being turned. He would then join in 
 the laugh, and adopt my view of them, and not unfrequently 
 have they been turned to account professionally. For instance, 
 the " School Orators" arose out of one of his fits of impatience, 
 caused by the reiterated invitations of a gentleman to attend the 
 speech-days at his boys' school — a bore which annoyed him 
 excessively, and which one day induced him to describe such a 
 scene to me by standing up and giving a specimen of the boys 
 of various ages speaking their several speeches. At this I 
 laughed so immoderately that gradually his severity of feeling 
 relaxed, and he good-humouredly enlarged upon the theme, 
 which I declared he should present to the public. I mentioned 
 this to Charles, who put together some verses (for a song) as a 
 vehicle for his father's characteristic imitations of the boys' 
 speeches, and which had as great an effect upon the stage as 
 they had produced upon myself. Indeed, he generally at these 
 moments made very happy hits. I remember once when we 
 were at Epsom races, sitting in the carriage on the course, a 
 very importunate and revolting-looking cripple, to whom we had 
 the day before given money, assailed my husband while he was 
 earnestly engaged in conversation with a gentleman who had 
 entered the carriage for a few moments. The importunity of 
 the beggar was not to be weakened by the assurance that " we 
 had nothing for him," and that we had relieved him "yester- 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 349 
 
 day." It was unavailing all, and Mr. Mathews, full of anxiety 
 to finish what he had to say to the person in the carriage before 
 the next race began, and finding his persecutor determined to 
 continue his clamorous interruption, was now worked up to the 
 highest pitch of exasperation. Finding the tiresome intruder 
 begin again to renew his solicitation, my husband, in a transport 
 of anger, suddenly dragged up the jalousie in order to shut out 
 the nuisance, and, as the man at this moment once more adjured 
 him to " Pity the poor lame !" he was in turn desired, in tones 
 faithfully resembling his own, to " Pity the poor blind !" Even 
 the beggar laughed, who was shrewd enough to perceive the 
 joke. 
 
 He had always great presence of mind in these cases. I re- 
 member, amongst many impromptus of the kind, one night in 
 Liverpool, while performing at his table, a tipsy and riotous 
 sailor in the gallery interrupted and annoyed him all the first 
 part of the evening with his remarks and grumblings at the 
 style of amusement, which of course he could neither understand 
 nor relish. The audience were fretted, and the general enjoy- 
 ment upset. In one part of the entertainment Mr. Mathews 
 had to represent an astronomer lecturing on the heavenly bodies 
 for the instruction of a pupil, and while holding up a telescope 
 he had to say — " There, that's Jupiter, and that's Venus ;" his 
 persecutor, quite tired of this, again interrupted him with some 
 coarse remark in his gruffest tones. Mr. Mathews, who still 
 kept the telescope to his eye, turned it immediately towards the 
 spot where his pest was seated, and, as if in continuation of his 
 instructions, added, "and that's the Great Bear." 
 
 In the spring of the year 1829 Mr. Mathews, in conjunction 
 with Mr. Yates, performed his first entertainment at the Adelphi. 
 The whole of the table parts were, as usual, by himself ; but he 
 was relieved by Mr. Yates in the dramatic acts, who undertook 
 that series of rapid change of dress and character, originally 
 introduced and made so popular by Mr. Mathews, whose in- 
 creasing lameness rendered such lodomotion most painful to him. 
 I here introduce the announcement of this entertainment. 
 
 ADELPHI THEATKE. 
 
 The public is respectfully informed that Messrs. Mathews and Yates 
 will conjointly be " At Home," and deliver their annual Spring Enter- 
 tainment, on Thursday, April 30th, and Saturday, May 2nd, 1829. 
 
 The evening's amusements to commence with Mr. Mathews's new 
 Lecture, in two parts, on peculiarities and manners, entitled the 
 
350 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 SPRING MEETING* 
 
 PAET THE FIEST. 
 
 Exordium. — All Abroad for a Home. — Thoughts foreign to the 
 matter. — Resigning sway for want of a subject.— Legitimate by special 
 desire. — Lost in space. — Advice gratis. — Hint for a New Company. — 
 Never really at home before. — Propriety of becoming a Proprietor. — 
 Embarkation in the Adelphi. — Trip proposed. — Sporting Calendar. — 
 Chapter of Entertainments. 
 
 Song — Spring Meetings. 
 
 Travelling Companions. — Introductions. — Doctor Callender, Phy- 
 sician or Musician, and Optician, Magister Coquorum and Travelling 
 Oracle, Director of Wills and Regulator of Powers, Inventor of Tewah- 
 diddle, Wow-wow Sauce, and l5og-sup Wiggy's Way. — Mr. Rattle, 
 Auto-biographer in Embryo. — Reminiscence Writer and RecoUector 
 that will be. — Humanity Stubbs, always saying one thing and never 
 meaning another. — Starting from Rumpus's. — Tale of a Bull. — The 
 Doctor and the Hounds. — Hunger and Hydrophobia. — Bark both ways. 
 — Provisional Theatre. — White Hart. — Bob Merrington. — Theatrical 
 Landlord and Actor of taste — Baddely's Twelfth Cake to wit. — Long 
 Debates and no News. 
 
 Song— XowcZo^ Newspapers. 
 
 Caution to Cooks. — Oh, the D — 1 ! well, I never.— Dinner in dubio. 
 — Poached Eggs and Peristaltic Persuaders. — Journey resumed. — Trip 
 by Steam. — Kettle versus Cattle. — Turnpike Adventure. — Mr. Mobbit 
 on his legs. — Patriotic Oration. — Ramfords and Registers. — A grate 
 difference. — Steam at a stand-still. — Passengers be Wallsend-ed. 
 Song — Doncaster Races. 
 
 At the end of the First Part Mr. Yates will deliver a viva voce 
 Report, never before reported, of the unprecedented case of Breach of 
 Promise of Marriage, Fladdigan versus Bathershau, as tried the first 
 sittings of the present Home Circuit, to wit before Lord Chief Justice 
 Punbury, elucidatory of 
 
 Love among the Lawyers, or Courting in Court. 
 
 Parties to the suit — " It is the cause ! it is the cause !" 
 
 Mrs. Judith Fladdigan,— r^. melting Butter- woman, of long 
 Handm^ in the market-place, Dublin, Venus of the Fats, a fresh 
 victim to Barney's soft impressions, — Flaintiff. 
 
 Mr. Barney Bathershau, — a Green Grocer of St. Stephen's Green, 
 lately transplanted from the Groves of Blarney, " more honoured in the 
 Breach than the observance" of his promise, — Defendant. 
 
 Counsel — " Brief let me be." 
 
 For the Prosecution. — Mr. Philip O'Blossom, the crim. con. Cicero, 
 
 * By Mr. Moncrief. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 351 
 
 with an Indignant Phili/p^iG against the Cupidity of the defendant. — 
 Specially retained. 
 
 For the Defence. — Mr. Dennis Demosthenes O'Daisy, " making the 
 worst appear the better reason," with the common plea of palliation to 
 the plaintiff's declaration. 
 
 Witness — " Bear witness, gentlemen." 
 
 UJr. Patrick Shane, — an impartial witness subpcBnaedbythejoar^/aZ 
 party, deeply wrapped up in the importance of his own evidence and a 
 rug cloak. 
 
 Judge and Jury — " Now on to judgment." 
 
 On the Bench behind the Bar. — Mr. Chief- Justice Punbury labouring 
 to prove Justice 2. jest is. On the benches before it an unlimited Jury. 
 The whole put on the EoU and brought into action by Mr. Yates. 
 
 PA.RT THE SECOND OF 
 
 MR. MATHEWS'S SPRING MEETING. 
 
 Newmarket. — Walking over the Course. — A Stable Story. — Stubbs's 
 Tale of a Tail, or retailing extraordinary. — Return to London. — Road- 
 side Adventure. — Mr. Moritz, the jilted German ; or. Sentiment in 
 despair : a killing story. — " Werter and Whilemina." — Trip to Wool- 
 wich. — Patrick and the Peas ; or, Irish Notions of Marrowfats. 
 Song — The Ship Launch. 
 
 A Melancholy Story. — Crooked Billeting. — The Inn out. — What 
 have you got ? — The Scotch Lady redivivus ; " Should auld acquaintance 
 be forgot;" anither little anecdote; a Kirk Story, "fifthly, my 
 brethren ;" a Friend from the North. — New Mail-coach Adventure. — 
 Company up or down. — A Luckie Story. — A Passenger too many. 
 
 Song — Lord Mayor's Show. 
 
 The Ship Inn. — Rattle and the Chambermaid. — Making Mems for 
 Memoirs. — Love tor Publication. — Cupid in a Chapter. — Concerting 
 measures to encourage harmony. 
 
 Song — The Country Concert. 
 Arranged by Mr. John Barnett, from the author's selection. 
 With additional orchestra expressly for this occasion, all playing at 
 sight. Leader, Mr. Mathews.— First fiddle, Mr. Wood. — Tenor, Mr. 
 Boardman, from Bristol. — Double bass, Mr. Size. — Flute, Mr. Hand- 
 aside. — Grand Finale. 
 
 To conclude with, for the first time, an entirely new grand panto- 
 mimical monopolylogue, with an entirely new scene, new music, pro* 
 perties, tricks, dresses, and decorations, which have been several hours 
 in preparation, founded on an undeciphered legend never before made 
 public, entitled, 
 
852 THE LIFE AND COERESPONDENCE OF 
 
 Sarlequin and Mr. Jenkins ; or, Pantomime in the Parlour. 
 
 First and last scene. — Interior of Jenkins' Folly, the enchanting 
 residence of Mr. Jenkins, with a beautifully romantic parlour-window 
 view of the street and neighbouring houses — magical appearance of the 
 gas-lights, and mysterious rising of the moon. 
 
 Mr. Jenkins, — proprietor of Jenkins' Folly, a private Pantaloon and 
 an amateur conjuror, formerly in the tea and China trade, projecting a 
 pantomime, and practising the Ombres Chinoises for his own amuse- 
 ment,— Mr. Yates. 
 
 Miss Rosetta Zephyrina Jenkins, — his daughter, heiress of Jenkins' 
 Folly, and Columbine of the China closet, concocting crackers and fiz- 
 gigs a la Hengler, amusing her leisure hours with patchwork and Mr. 
 Harley Quin,— Mr. Yates. 
 
 Mr. Harley Quin, — a young Bologna caper merchant and colourman 
 of Wandsworth, up to a trick or two, — Mr. Yates. 
 
 Mrs. Pantalina, — Mr. Yates. 
 
 Monsieur Frogueville Parisian Pierrotquier, — inhabitant of the 
 mystic jar, wishing to enchant Mrs. Pantalina, — Mr. Yates. 
 
 Molly Thrullihluhher, — from the lower regions, a fatxxowsi being 
 transformed into a mountain of flesh, cook to Mr. Jenkins, and pro- 
 fessor of the culinary mysteries, — Mr. Yates. 
 
 Joe Merriman, — formerly imp of the ring, slave of the knife-board, 
 and footman to Mr. Jenkins, — Mr. Yates. 
 
 Ted Trot-ter-dog, — guardian spirit of the stars, nightly protector of 
 the Jenkins dynasty, and parish watchman, from Donnybrook, victim 
 in the fatal combustion of the China closet, — Mr. Yates. 
 
 To conclude with a grand blow up, intended for the eruption of Mount 
 Vesuvius. 
 
 The present year's entertainment was one of the most popular 
 of the series. 
 
 At the close of a most prosperous " At Home" at the 
 Adelphi, Mr. Mathews made a short professional tour in com- 
 pany with Mr. Yates. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Plymouth, July 20th, 1829. 
 
 Two days of pouring rain, head of the carriage up ! very wretched 
 fires at night. I always meet with adventures ; but certainly we have 
 met with the most singular in the annals of posting. Our post-boy 
 lost his way on Saturday morning, and drove literally upon a wild plain, 
 in some parts of which no tracks of wheels could be seen, and no 
 carriage had ever been before. At last, with our tremendous heavy 
 carriage, we stuck fast ; and if we had not all simultaneously called 
 *' Stop," and jumped off, we must have been upset. My mind had misgiven 
 me for some time that we were not in a turnpike road, I mean before 
 we came to turf; but, after a few damns from us, the rascal confessed 
 that he had never driven the road before, and had only gone to his place 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 353 
 
 on Thursday ni^ht. He was too proud to ask his way, and there we 
 were stuck lust ! We had to walk in a swamp, and at the moment we 
 alighted a most desperate shower came on. It was like a waterspout. 
 The circumstance of the landlord sending a boy ignorant of the road, 
 and his undertaking the task, made it so provoking, that no temper 
 could endure it with coolness. The original stage was only seven miles, 
 and we were two hours and a half performing our route ! How many 
 miles we made of it. Heaven knows. A trace snapped in two in an 
 effort to extricate the carriage, lightened as it was by our leaving it ; 
 and if we had not luckily had a remarkably long strap that fastened 
 the seat behind, we could not have got on at all. However, we did find 
 the turnpike road at last, and our accident was only food for laughter 
 afterwards ; not one of us caught cold, though no one so subject as 
 Yates. His escape is wonderful ; for he was drenched, and up to his 
 knees in white clay, running after shepherds to inquire our way out. 
 Yesterday repaid us for all : not one shower, and we travelled through 
 fifty miles of garden, magnificent, rich, beautifully variegated scenery, 
 arriving safe, sound, and well. To-day gives promise of fine settled 
 weather — not a cloud — and / acknowledge it to be warm. Dr. Taylor 
 and. his wife surprised me by writing me a note to call upon them. He 
 has changed air for his health, but looks very poorly, We have got a 
 snug lodging (no easy afiair at this time), and all is right. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 Mr. Mathews's next letter gives an account of a still greater 
 disaster — indeed, a fearful accident. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Plymouth, July 23rd, 1829. 
 I have been basking in the sun to-day. I hope you have the weather 
 as fine as we have had. I have not seen such a day for years. We 
 have been on board a hoy belonging to the superintendent of the 
 Victualling-office, whence I write. I am perfectly well. I should not 
 probably have written to-day, if I had not seen a Plymouth paper, in 
 which they have recorded one of my extraordinary escapes. I feared it 
 might be copied into a London paper, and you would be needlessly 
 alarmed. The fact is as they have mentioned, excepting for " an hour" 
 read ten minutes, as I had just finished the concert song, and was 
 bowing to the audience, when the roller of the drop fell on my head 
 and perfectly stunned me. I was certainly insensible for some time ; 
 three medical men were on the spot before I was removed from the 
 place where I fell, and one of them instantly bled me, during which 
 time I recovered. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 The following is the paragraph alluded to by Mr. Mathews : — 
 
 Accident to Mr. Mathews, the Comedian. — A letter from Plymouth, 
 21st July, says : " Messrs. Mathews and Yates arrived yesterday, and 
 
 A A 
 
354 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 commenced their performances last night to a brilliant, crowded, and 
 highly fashionable audience. Of course Mathews was ' At Home,' but 
 in that part of his Home called ' Spring Meeting' the curtain unex- 
 pectedly fell and struck him on the head, which rendered him insensible 
 for an hourand a half! Medical aid was immediately procured, and he 
 was bled, by which means his visit to his * long home' was fortunately 
 (for us) protracted. This inimitable comedian and excellent man is so 
 far recovered as to resume his performances to-night." - 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Plymouth, July 25th, 1829. 
 
 As I anticipated, the London papers have heard of my accident, the 
 Courier making it out that I lay an hour and a half insensible. The 
 accident, at all events, has not left a trace behind, excepting in the arm 
 in which I was bled. I am in every respect well, as I always am at, 
 on, or near the sea. Dr. Taylor positively agrees with me that mine is 
 not a cough. It is only phlegm, and of no consequence at all ; even 
 of that I am much better.* 
 
 We shall finish about the 17th of August, and I shall be ready, 
 allowing for nearly three days' journey to London and a short time at 
 home. I should say, I can start for Paris on the 23rd. From the 
 moment of my recovery I only thought of my most providential escape j 
 for the blow I received, one would suppose, would have killed an ox. 
 The next day I was no worse, excepting a bump and a slight cut in my 
 head. I have now perfectly recovered — never better. The accident 
 was thus occasioned : the man who was at the drop in the flies, waiting 
 the signal to let it fall, prepared, but the windlass broke, and the curtain 
 therefore came down with a run. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 " Beautiful weather !" Summer unclouded. This is only the third 
 door on the right hand from Paradise. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Exeter, August 12th, 1829. 
 We have returned here for the assizes, and play three nights this 
 week. Two houses out of three will have all the fashion of town and 
 country. Lady Morley was determined to make up for breaking our 
 chair by introducing me to about fifty of her acquaintances, on the 
 Grand Stand at the races. Out of this grew a pressing invitation from 
 Mr. Bulteel, who was at our house with Lord Auckland and his sisters. 
 I went there on Saturday, and stayed till Monday. 
 I am remarkably well, but very home sick. 
 
 C. Mathevts. 
 * It will by these affections be seen that his "cold" was not conquered, 
 and that he still retained in a moderated degree the disorder which exhibited 
 itself, for the first time, on the Ash Wednesday of the present year. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 355 
 
 Late in August Charles travelled from Italy, in order to spend 
 a few weeks with us ; and after a few days' stay with me at the 
 Cottage, I proceeded to join his father at Boulogne, who was 
 announced, jointly with Mr. Yates, to perform there. They 
 carried their design into execution with great success, and after- 
 wards we all proceeded together to Paris. There the same result 
 followed their performance that had attended it everywhere 
 else, the theatre being fairly divided between the natives and 
 the resident English. 
 
 From the first moment I saw the comedians of France, I 
 always thought my husband's style of acting peculiarly French^ 
 and I often remarked of Potier, in the year 1821, how much he 
 reminded me, in eccentric old men, of Mr. Mathews in the same 
 line of character. In this case no imitation could have occasioned 
 the resemblance, for Mr. Mathews had never seen Potier or 
 France until the year 1818, when he had ceased to be a regular 
 actor in the drama. 
 
 At the close of this engagement, the partners repeated their 
 performance at Boulogne, previously to their return to England 
 for the re-opening of the Adelphi Theatre. Mr. Yates having 
 gained his partner's slow leave, engaged the celebrated acting 
 elephant (Mademoiselle Djek) for the ensuing opening; and, 
 fortunately as it turned out, for the success of that part of the 
 season, when another female actress of great popularity made a 
 strong opposition to the minors — Mademoiselle Djek and Miss 
 Fanny Kemble shared the town between them — each the greatest 
 in her line. 
 
 aa2 
 
356 THE LIFE AND COREESPONDENCE OF 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 Be-opening of the Adelphi Theatre — Mr, Mathews's Comic Annual for 1830 — 
 Address on the close of the performance at the Adelphi — Arrival from Italy 
 of Mr. Mathews's son — Severe illness of the latter — Mr. Mathews's fondness 
 for birds and other animals — The little bantam — Letter to the Rev. T. 
 Speidell — Letter to Mrs. Mathews — Letter to Mr. Mathews from the late 
 Mr. Godwin — Study for his last novel of " Cloudesly" — Power of destroying 
 personal identity — Wonderful instance of this in Mr. Mathews — Letter to 
 the Rev. T. Speidell— " Comic Annual" for 1831 at the Adelphi Theatre 
 — Performances of Mr. Mathews and Mr. Yates — Charles Mathews, Junior, 
 and Carlo Nanini — Illness of the latter : his death — Effect of this event on 
 Mr. Mathews described in letters to Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 On the 26th of April, 1830, the Adelphi Theatre was re-opened. 
 The following is the bill of the entertainment, in which Mr. 
 Yates this season took no part : — 
 
 THEATRE ROYAL, ADELPHI. 
 
 The public is most respectfully informed, that on Monday next, 
 April 26th, 1830, 
 
 MR. MATHEWS WILL BE "AT HOME," 
 
 And have the honour to present an entirely new Entertainment, 
 in three parts, called 
 
 MATHEWS'S COMIC ANNUAL FOR 1830.* 
 
 With humorous cuts and other embellishments. 
 
 To be published April 26th (Boards), Adelphi, Strand (packed in 
 Boxes) Four Shillings. 
 
 PAET riEST. 
 
 Chapter \st. — Reasons for undertaking the Editorship. — Parting 
 with Partner. — Reviewers. — Mrs. Neverend. 
 
 Chapter 2nd. — Mr. John Downright Shearman, retired master tailor. 
 — Monsr. Vindrin.— -Mike Earwig, a whispering waiter. — British 
 Justice. — Police Office. — A Skip. 
 
 Song — Zoological Gardens, 
 * ByK. B.Peake, Esq 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 357 
 
 Chapter 3rd. — Embellishment, Portrait of Mr. Sadjolly, a hale 
 Valetudinarian. — His sons, Master Dicky Sadjolly and Master Jeremiah 
 Crackthorpe Sadjolly. — Youthful Rivalry. — Turn over a New Leaf, &c. 
 
 Chapter 4,th. — Mr. Shakeley. — Nerves. 
 
 Song — The Corlc-cutters Festival. 
 
 Trip to Scotland. — The Rev. Mr. Muckledrawl. — Saunders, a Cale- 
 donian Carpenter. — Working to Music. — Whistling. — Second Em- 
 bellishment, Mr. Dispepys. — Double-bedded Room. — Living Nightmare. 
 
 PAET SECOND. 
 
 Chapter \st. — Embellishment, Mr. Lavolta. — Habitual Risibility.— 
 Mr. Sadjolly's Visit to London. — Affection of the Spine. — French 
 Housemaid. — Brushing up a Tongue. — Visit to Mr. Polish, the dentist. 
 — The two Boys' Teeth. — Mr. Lavolta with a laughable Toothache. — 
 Mr. Polish's relaxation. — German Air, never heard in this country. 
 
 Song — Sarmonic Dentist. 
 
 Chapter 2nd. — Monsieur Vindrin. — Lost Snulf-box. — Les petites 
 Allouettes. — French sense of Honour. 
 
 Chapter Srd. — Lieutenant M'Craw. — West Indies. — Honourable 
 Kingston Native and Creole Assembly. — Digression. 
 
 Song — Irish Berrin. 
 
 Chapter 4ith. — Hie jacet. — Cook's Voyages. — Mr. Dispepsy's encore. 
 — The Herefordshire Prize Ox, 4684 lbs. 10 oz. — Raffle. — How to win 
 a great loss. — Mrs. Neverend's last words. 
 
 Song — Vauxhall Gardens. 
 Mr. Mathews's reading and introduction to the Afterpiece. 
 
 FINALE. 
 
 Mr. Sadjolly. — Mr. Lavolta. — The Boys. — Vindrin. — Earwig. — 
 Mr. Mathews. 
 
 PAET THIED. 
 
 Will be presented as a Pictorial Embellishment to the Comic Annual, 
 
 A Monopolylogue to be called THE LONE HOUSE. 
 
 Dramatis personce, enacted by Mr. Mathews. 
 
 Mrs. Dora Dunhird, — Deaf Housekeeper. 
 
 Andrew, — Butler, groom, gardener, and cook to Sir Chevy Melton, 
 when the respective servants are absent. 
 
 Jeremiah Abershaw, Usq. — Prior to his elevation. 
 John Sheppard, Esq. — Antecedent to his suspension. 
 
 Dramatis personce y represented by Andrew. 
 
 Ap LeeTcs, — Sir Chevy Melton's Welsh gardener. 
 Bechamel, — his French Cook. 
 
 Captain Grapnell, R.N. — Friend of Sir Chevy Melton. 
 &c. &c. &c. 
 
358 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 At the close of his performances at the Adelphi Theatre this 
 season, Mr. Mathews addressed his audience in nearly the fol- 
 lowing terms : — 
 
 Ladies and Gentlemen, — It is customary on such occasioris as 
 the present to acknowledge the patronage which has been bestowed 
 tipon the efforts of the performers ; but I really feel myself so much 
 exhausted that 1 can say little beyond the simple word " farewell." At 
 a time when, from what causes 1 will not pretend to determine, there is 
 not so strong a disposition to encourage theatrical entertainments as 
 formerly existed — at a time, too, when the market is overstocked with 
 foreign produce, I feel much gratified, and, indeed, I may say, even 
 more astonished than gratified, that so humble an article of home 
 manufacture as that which I have been able to offer jou, should have 
 met with such distinguished success. I wish it to be understood, that 
 in the allusion which I have just made, I speak not for myself, inasmuch 
 as this is the period when, probably, under any circumstances, my 
 season would have closed ; but I speak in behalf of those who have 
 large and expensive establishments to maintain. This is the thirteenth 
 season in which I have had the honour of appearing single-handed 
 before you. The entertainment which has been offered you this evening 
 has been repeated forty nights. It is usnal on such a night as this to 
 return thanks in the name of the whole company. Here we are 
 unanimous ; and, in the name of all whom I may represent, I respectfully 
 hid you " farewell." 
 
 Mr. Mathews then retired amidst enthusiastic applause. The 
 house was quite full. 
 
 The Adelphi having once more closed, my husband again 
 journeyed to the provinces. 
 
 To K. B. Gyles, Esq. 
 
 London, Dec. 15th, 1830. 
 
 Deak Gyles, — I hereby acknowledge the receipt of your letter, per' 
 threepenny to-day. You have been a long while about it, and hardly 
 deserve an answer ; therefore I won't be put off, so I won't. I will have 
 the smallest bantams in the world. Where is the one we met one day 
 in Ross-market. 
 
 I was on the point of writing to you, if I had not heard, to tell you of the 
 .arrival of our poor dear Charley. You may fancy his sufferings, when I 
 tell you that at the time we heard from him at your house in August he 
 had been then confined two months, and lost the use of his limbs en- 
 tirely in that month, from which time he has not been able to lift his 
 hand to his head, walk even on crutches, or turn himself in bed. Do 
 you not marvel ? Do you not laud him for unheard-of resolution in 
 returning ? " Will after ages believe it ! " His leeches (well may they 
 be so termed in old plays) at Venice, condemned him to four months 
 more solitary confinement; told him if he moved it would be certain 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 359 
 
 death. Well, said he, I will rather die on the road, with the chance of 
 seeing my parents and beloved home once more. He bought a carriage, 
 ordered his Italian servant to put him in, as he would have ordered his 
 own trunk, and in that helpless, forlorn, wretched state, undertook a 
 journey of one thousand four hundred miles, which he accomplished in 
 nineteen days ; the post takes fourteen or fifteen.* It was the most 
 afflicting sight I ever experienced, to see him lifted from the carriage. 
 The only evidence of the body being animated was the sound of his 
 dear voice, offering up thanksgivings to God for having granted him 
 strength to reach home. He is already somewhat better, and all the 
 doctors promise a perfect recoveiy ; but do not promise it under some 
 four or five months. 
 
 Love to your wife, and be assured of the unalterable friendship of 
 
 Mat. 
 
 This dreadful visitation of Charles's was produced by a fever, 
 some said malaria. On his return home, a consultation took 
 place, and Doctors Paris and Johnston agreed in their opinion 
 upon the occasion, that the youth, good constitution, and excel- 
 lent habits of the patient would restore him, without the aid of 
 medicine ; and so it proved. He was a cripple, however, full 
 twelve months, and an acute sufferer the greater part of the 
 time. 
 
 But to return to the paragraph of the foregoing letter, in 
 which Mr. Mathews says, " I ivill have the smallest Wntams in 
 the world." It was always diverting to see the craving he had 
 for collecting animals and birds, and, indeed, every living thing. 
 He had so many pets in this way, that it seemed extraordinary 
 how he found time to notice all. He generally had two piping 
 bullfinches, always a parrot, sometimes a cockatoo, often a gull, 
 and a lark ; he had also gold and silver fish, a magpie, a tortoise, 
 two dormice, a tame hawk, and that rare talking bird, a Mino. 
 This last he had taught to speak. Then a variety of dogs, cats, 
 rabbits, &c., too many to enumerate. All these contributed in 
 turn to interest and employ his attention ; but he loved bantams, 
 and " would," as he said, " have the smallest in the world." One 
 was at last procured, the most perfect little creature I ever saw 
 — the most beautiful that could be imagined. The first morning 
 of his arrival he was associated with others of the same class, in 
 a Lilliputian spot laid out for them apart from the common herd 
 of fowls ; but he contrived to give his companions the slip the 
 very first day, and whilst at breakfast in a room leading into a 
 conservatory, we were surprised to see this little strutting fellow 
 
 * He travelled in a carriage in which a bed was constructed. 
 
360 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDEKCE OF 
 
 come in and tamely walk about the room, as if a thing of custom 
 with it. This delighted my husband, and he showed, his delight 
 like a child ; he strewed crumbs and fed his little favourite, who 
 retired voluntarily when satisfied, and we saw no more of him 
 that day. The next morning at the same period, to our in- 
 creased surprise, our little visitor again marched in and received 
 his reward, allowing us all to take him up in turn, and feeling 
 perfect confidence. This conduct actually had the effect of 
 making my husband rise every morning as soon as the little 
 curiosity crowed the breakfast hour, when he was sure to be true 
 to time. It really was curious to observe the tiny being perform 
 this duty morning after morning, and live, as we ascertained, the 
 rest of his time in total reserve with his own species, picking 
 up his share of their provision, but in a manner apart from 
 tliem, and retiring to roost near the house in a branch of ivy, 
 nestling himself in its thickness, instead of perching like a fowl. 
 
 One morning we were as usual expecting " Count Boruwlaski,'* 
 as we had called him from his diminutive size (he was a short 
 period after his accustomed time) ; my husband was just going 
 to look after his little guest, when lo ! in he marched bleeding, 
 with one wing nearly off and dragging upon the ground. He 
 seemed to say, I have escaped from the murderer to come and 
 die amongst my friends. The poor little creature had evidently 
 been attacked in his roosting-place by a rat, and escaped with 
 this severe hurt. 
 
 Aid was called in, and soon our poor little favourite's wing was 
 bound up, and he proceeded to gather his customary crumbs of 
 comfort, and notwithstanding every attempt to wean him from 
 his chosen bed of leaves, he continued to occupy it at night. Sad 
 to say, after a few days, just as his wounds had been successfully 
 medicined, the ruthless invader again assailed him ; and when we 
 sought the little victim, only a few of his feathers remained to 
 tell his mournful end ! My husband's spirits were so upset at 
 this domestic tragedy, that he neither ate nor spoke the rest of 
 the day, and at night his audience suffered in proportion. The 
 moment he returned he went again to the fatal spot, as if still 
 in hopes to find his little favourite, and retired to bed silent and 
 depressed, without his usual reading. 
 
 It is very rare when favourites of this kind die in an ordinary 
 way. Tamed and apart from their kind, their instincts are 
 weakened, and some shocking and premature end generally overr 
 takes them, though they may still be said to die a natural death, 
 as I heard Mr. Colman once observe to be the case with 
 
C^IARLES MATHEWS. 361 
 
 Madame Sacqui when she fell off the rope and was said to he 
 kiUed. 
 
 To the Rev. Thomas Speidell. 
 
 Kentish Town, January 19tli, 1831. 
 
 My dear Speidell,— Rather than allow another day's delaj' in 
 reply to your kind letter, I will write a hurried answer in preference to 
 none. Briefly, — Charles returned, the most exaggerated case of paraly- 
 sis on record — a voice only to indicate that the corpse was animated. 
 Streatfield could not magnify it. An attached gem of an Italian servant 
 brought him home, like a portmanteau or any other piece of goods. In 
 spirits good, but even crutches would not support his enfeebled frame.^ 
 I had four medical men ; they all agreed that it was the remains of 
 malaria, and that he would recover without their aid. Judge our sur- 
 prise and delight and gratitude to God. 
 
 This will satisfy you, I know, and you will excuse a longer detail. I 
 really hope and believe he will be able to dance by the end of February.* 
 His mother is now well, and has borne herself like a true woman (not 
 in the worldly sense). I need not say how her time has been devoted ; 
 and the sufferer always felt faith that home and mother would restore 
 him. The leeches at Venice had condemned him to winter at Venice.f 
 He called his servant: "Nanini," said he, "put this body into a carriage 
 and convey it to England." Resolution, eh ? We all desire heartfelt 
 thanks for your attention, and love to Mrs. Jellicoe. 
 
 -Ever sincerely yours, C. Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Bath, January 28th, 1831. 
 I am remarkably well, though last night I worked like a horse, — two 
 hours at " Table," " May Queen," and " Before Breakfast." The night 
 I arrived I went to see Kean, who was playing to empty benches. From 
 the weather, and beginning on January 1st, I was alto^ther in despair; 
 but I am more than content. It is a great gratification to me to find 
 myself supported by the people whose opinion alone is worth listening 
 to. The upper orders follow me. Had you heard the croaking about 
 the state of property here, you would think highly of what I have 
 done. 
 
 CM. 
 
 In the year 1807 or 1808, Mr. Godwin called upon Mr. 
 Mathews. He entertained a great admiration of him in public, 
 he said, and not having any mutual friend to introduce him, he 
 
 * This sanguine feeling was not justified by the result ; Charles was carried 
 about in the arms of his servant for many months after this, and had not dis- 
 carded his crutches five months after the above account. 
 
 t Charles was six months in bed at Venice, and nearly the same period in 
 England. 
 
S62 THE LIFE AND COERESPONDENCE OF 
 
 had ventured upon the present mode rather than not become 
 acquainted with him. From this time they met occasionally. 
 Mr. Godwin had often witnessed Mr. Mathews's power of per- 
 sonation, and just before Mr. Godwin's last novel, " Cloudesly," 
 was published, he addressed the following request to my 
 husband : — 
 
 To Charles Mathews, Esq. 
 
 No. 44, Gower-place, February 14tli. 
 My dear Sie, — I am at this moment engaged in writing a work of 
 fiction, a part of the incidents of which will consist in escapes in dis- 
 guises. It has forcibly struck me that, if I could be indulged in the 
 pleasure of half an hour's conversation with you on the subject, it would 
 furnish me with some hints, which, beaten on the anvil of my brain, 
 would be of eminent service to me on the occasion. Would you conde- 
 scend to favour me in making the experiment? — the thing will not 
 admit of delay. — I am, dear Sir, with great respect, yours, 
 
 William Godwin. 
 
 An early day was appointed, and Mr. Godwin dined at the 
 cottage. He was anxious not to shame probability in his work, 
 and requested to have his memory of the past refreshed as to the 
 power of destroying personal identity. Mr. Mathews, of course, 
 satisfied him upon the point by several disguises. Soon after he 
 had convinced Mr. Godwin that he might venture to assume 
 such a power of deception possible in his own plot, a gentleman 
 (an eccentric neighbour of ours) broke in upon us just as Mr. 
 Godwin was expressing his wonder at the variety of expression, 
 character, and voice of which Mr. Mathews was capable. We 
 were embarrassed, and Mr. Godwin evidently vexed at the in- 
 truder. However, there was no help for it ; the servant had 
 admitted him, and he was introduced in form to Mr. Godwin. 
 The moment Mr. Jenkins (for such was his name) discovered 
 the distinguished person he had so luckily for him dropped in 
 upon, he was enthusiastically pleased at the event, talked to Mr. 
 Godwin about all his works, inquired about the forthcoming 
 book — in fact, bored him through and through. At last the 
 author turned to my husband for refuge against this assault of 
 admiration, and discovered that his host had left the room. He 
 therefore rose from his seat, and approached the window leading 
 to the lawn, Mr. Jenkins officiously following, and insisting upon 
 opening it for him, and while he was urging a provokingly 
 obstinate lock, the object of his devoted attention waited behind 
 him for release. The casement at length flew open, and Mr. 
 Godwin, passing the gentleman with a courteous look of thanks, 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 363 
 
 found, to his astonishment, that Mr. Jenldns had disappeared, 
 and that Mr. Mathews stood in his place ! 
 
 Mr. Godwin returned home satished, and soon after finished 
 the last volume of " Cloudesly," wherein may be found the result 
 of his visit — the last we were destined to receive from this re- 
 markable and interesting man. 
 
 To the Rev. Thomas Speldell. 
 
 Chester, August 2ud, 1831. 
 
 Mr DEAR Speidell, — Though I could not manage to give you a 
 benefit on my way to Liverpool, I think I shall patronise you on my 
 return. The fact is, Charles, and Mamma, and I spent nine days in the 
 neighbourhood of Southampton, and I found a remarkably good convey- 
 ance from thence to Liverpool via Cheltenham, by a coach called 
 Hirondelle, which is converted into Iron Devil. I therefore did not 
 get into your track at all. I am going for three or four days to Wales, 
 to visit Mr. Owen Williams, M.P. for Marlow, and an anti-Reformer. 
 The probable time of my visit to you will, therefore, be the week begin- 
 ning with the 15th ofAugust. 
 
 You will be pleased to hear that dear Charles surprised his mother 
 and me by meeting, or rather running to us, without a stick, as nearly 
 well as possible, on the 4th of July, after spending a month at Wootton- 
 under-Edge. I have no doubt, by the time I return, to find him as 
 well as ever. Thank God for such a blessing ! 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 Direct to Craig y dor, Anglesea. 
 
 Mr. Mathews, with Mr. Yates, opened the Adelphi Theatre 
 on Monday, April 18th, 1831, with the following announce- 
 ment : — 
 
 ME. MATHEWS 
 Will have the honour to publish the Second Volume of his 
 COMIC ANNUAL, 
 
 In one Part, embeUished with new designs and humorous cuts.* 
 
 Exordium. — Dr. Johnson's Preface to his Dictionary. — Recipe, " How 
 to prepare an Entertainment for a large party." — First Sketch. — Fat 
 Mr. Waglington. — Hunting in a single-horse chair. — Pleasures of the 
 Chase. — Mr. Waghngtou's poesy. 
 
 Song — " London Mxhihitions — 1830-31." 
 
 Nathaniel Nagg, a grumbling footman. — Mrs. Euphemia Blight, one 
 who depreciates friends' relations.— Mr.. Littlemiff. — Rights ol" Man. — 
 'The Curses of Street-music. — General Postman. — Dennis Croagh, a 
 Lover of Law. 
 
 Song — " Armagh Assizes." 
 
 * By Messi-s. Peake and Charles J. Mathews. 
 
364 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 Country Manager's distress. — Master Scuggs with the scarlet fever. 
 — A substitute for Young Norval (with a beautiful figure embellished 
 by Shakspeare and Shield). — Shop-board disquisition and sheer critical 
 opinions on the Poets of Ireland and Scotland. — Historical subject. — 
 Lieutenant-general Sir Hildebrand Hookah's dictation to three aides- 
 de-camp at one time, with whole-lengths of Major Mangoe, Captain 
 Jungle, and Ensign Hectic. — The Result. — Padding to the Bank. 
 
 Song — The Omnibus, 
 
 After which will be represented, for the first, second, and third times, 
 an entirely new monopolylogue entertainment, in one act, with new 
 music, scenes, dress, &c. called 
 
 Yates in Italy, or the JBeautiful JBarmaid. 
 
 Jiladame Pompeydoor, — Locandiera of the Aquila di due Testa 
 (Swan with Two Necks), at Portici, a French landlady with a knowledge 
 of the English language, — Mr. Yates, 
 
 Lord Phidias Crachstone, — a celebrated virtuoso member of the 
 Dilettante and Travellers' Club, making excavations in Herculaneum 
 and Pompeii in search of the antique and beautiful. Professor of the 
 " Unique Le'^" hitherto without 2i fellow, and proprietor in toto of the 
 matchless /bo^, a great stickler for correct proportions, — Mr. Yates. 
 
 Signor Thomaso JacJcsonnini, — an Anglo-Italian, formerly of Alley, 
 now Ballerino Principale at the Teatro San Carlos at Naples, taking 
 steps to mend his fortunes, and favoured by Catterina, — Mr. Yates. 
 
 Signora Catterina, — ward of Madame Pompeydoor, " La Bella 
 Ostessa," the beautiful hostess of the Swan with Two Necks, attracting 
 travellers to her bar by an indescribable fascination and undeveloped 
 attraction ; courted by Lord Phidias, Sir Sturgeon,- Captain Cloudesly, 
 and Beau Flaniinirton, but attached to Jacksonriini by the ties of Rossini 
 and a fine calf, — Mr. Yates. 
 
 Sir Sturgeon Garrett, — Ex-Mayor of Wandsworth, an amateur 
 legislator in search of a new system of punishment for the improvement 
 of the lower orders, — Mr. Yates. 
 
 Fra Dlavolo, — genuine as exported from Terracina, in search of the 
 exposed and seizable, — Mr. Yates. 
 
 Terence Gossoon, — an Irish cicerone, attached to thecrata, and other 
 propensities, — Mr. Yates. 
 
 JBeau Flamington, — a retired dandy^ ci-devant leader of the haut 
 ton, seeking the Baths of Portici to amend a pecuniary decline, — Mr. 
 Yates. 
 
 Captain Cloudesly Ogle, — advocate for. the non-intervention system, 
 practising diplomacy on a small scale, — Mr. Yates. 
 
 The monopolylogue will conclude with the Engine-mow?, denouement 
 of the characters making the house too hot to hold them. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 365 
 
 To conclude with a novel entertainment, a Diapolylogue, to be called 
 
 Nos. 26 and 27, or Next Door Neighbours* 
 
 Mathews and Yates will sustain the following dramatis personce : — 
 
 Tim Wasp, — a pertinacious cobbler. 
 Mr.O' Rapparee, — an Irish member of society (involved). 
 Poker, — returning officer for the King's Bench. 
 Phelim M' Quill, — clerk to tlie London Expectoration Office. 
 Miss Mildew, — a faded virgin white, beside herself. 
 Mrs. BanJcington Bomhnsin, — an imaginary proprietress in mourn- 
 ing affiiirs, and head deranged. 
 
 Mr. Capsicum, — a Trinidad merchant. 
 
 Cleopatra, — his Negro nurse. 
 
 Miss Capsicum, — in love with O'Rapparee. 
 
 Old File, — last of London watchmen. 
 
 Mr. Cmsar le Blond, — a black Adonis. 
 
 Properties^ — a little dark-coloured pledge of affection, &c. &c. 
 
 It is necessary, in order to understand some of the subsequent 
 letters, to explain that when Charles quitted Venice a helpless 
 cripple, he was accompanied by an Italian servant, one who had 
 never been in service before, and who had, during the four years 
 he attended upon him, conceived such a devoted attachment to 
 his master, that when Charles determined to return to England, 
 Carlo Nanini declared his readiness to attend him, merely to 
 see him safely there, and then rejoin his wife and children in 
 Italy. 
 
 This interesting being after his arrival soon became extremely 
 attached to Mr. Mathews and myself, and was so delighted with 
 England, that but for the conscript law, which forbade his boys 
 their freedom, he would have summoned them and their mother 
 to this country, and settled in it for the rest of his life. This 
 could not be, and so he agreed ofily to remain while his services 
 were valuable to his " dear Signer Carlo,'* then pay a visit to 
 his family for a few months, and afterwards return to us for 
 three years more. To those who saw Nanini I need not describe 
 his excellent qualities, his talents, his graceful manner to all, and 
 especial devotion to our family. He was beloved by everybody 
 in proportion as they knew him, and he was made known to 
 everybody. My husband was extremely attached to him. Al- 
 though his origin was of the humblest, he was in effect a 
 gentleman. He had the most perfect tact, with a most extra- 
 
 * The whole of the above piece was omitted after the first night, except the 
 character of Tim Wasp, one of Mr. Mathews's finest representations, and 
 which was detached from the drama. 
 
866 THE LIFE AND CORKESPONDENCE OF 
 
 ordinary capacity, possessing in himself much talent and humour, 
 with a most remarkable perception of it in others. He scarcely 
 knew a sentence of English, yet understood everybody's meaning. 
 He was beloved by the servants ; and such was his mildness, that 
 he never excited envy or anger from those who were not equally 
 taken notice of. They seemed, indeed, tacitly to admit his 
 superiority. He had been with us nearly a year. Charles, whom 
 he had carried about the house for nearly six months after his 
 return to England, had in November become sufficiently restored 
 to proceed to Brighton, and Nanini was of course to accompany 
 him there ; but it was observable on the day before the journey 
 that something ailed him, and after a struggle, he consented to 
 remain at the cottage until he was better, when he might follow 
 his master. From that moment he visibly declined, and took to 
 his bed at the end of a week. I grew alarmed, although the 
 apothecary declared his complaint to be of no consequence, and 
 that it proceeded from cold. I felt dissatisfied, however, and 
 called in Dr. Paris, who immediately declared him to be in a 
 dangerous state. Notwithstanding this, his first prescription 
 relieved the sufferer. 
 
 Another week had nearly passed, when one morning at day- 
 break I was summoned to Nanini's bedside. He had said that 
 his eyesight was leaving him, and begged to look at " Madame" 
 for the last time. He then took a most affecting leave of me, 
 thanked me for all my kindness, left affectionate messages to his 
 •'dear Signor Carlo" and Mr. Mathews, and closing his eyelids, 
 dropped his head upon my arm, and appearing to sleep, resigned 
 his spirit without a pang ! 
 
 On the first positive intimation of his immediate danger, I 
 had sent an express to Brighton for Charles. Alas ! a second 
 was soon after despatched to tell him that his journey would 
 be unavailing, and that his servant and friend had left him 
 for ever. 
 
 I had, agreeably to the expressed wish of Nanini, to have his 
 mysterious disorder ascertained, caused a post-mortem examina- 
 tion to take place, and Mr. Mayo discovered the cause of his 
 sufferings and death to have been an insidious inflammation, 
 which no human skill could have reached, even had the nature 
 of his illness been known during life. Tt was supposed that the 
 cause of his death had existed for more than six months, al- 
 though it was not materially felt, or not acknowledged, by the 
 sufferer until the crisis, which came on only a fortnight before 
 he died. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 367 
 
 On the first intimation of Nanini's precarious state, a neigh* 
 bouring friend wrote to prepare mj husband for the fatal result, 
 to which I added a page with some particulars. To this letter 
 the following is a reply. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Lincoln, Nov. 18th, 1831. 
 
 I should have written yesterday had not your promise of writing 
 again on Thursday induced me to wait. I am so thoroughly stricken to 
 the heart by the melancholy intelligence in your last, that I cannotrally. 
 Neither reading nor any other pursuit can divert my mind from the 
 all-engrossing subject. I shall never think of it without a pang during 
 my lil'e ; but in a miserable inn, the hulk-like mirth* and shouting of 
 some hundreds here for a county reform meeting ; and having to perlbrm 
 to-night, I must not trust mj'self to dwell upon the subject. I have 
 never been more truly afflicted, and my audience (only a few, I am 
 sorry to say,) suffered by my having opened the letter before the per- 
 formance. Had it been in your handwriting, I had determined to keep 
 it unopened till next morning; but a strange hand and no post-mark 
 induced me to open it, and sadly I was repaid for my curiosity, though 
 I had anticipated the worst. 
 
 Believe me, my heart bleeds for you. C. M. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Boston, November 21st, 1831. 
 
 On my arrival hero last night, I found both 3'our letters, much to my 
 relief, for when the third day passed I conjectured some additional blow 
 to my peace. I shall not trust myself to write upon our irreparable 
 loss. It has cost me pangs enough, and I feel it my duty to think of 
 any or every subject rather than that. I sobbed over your letters last 
 night until I was ill. My feeling for Charles, and the picture in my 
 mind's eye of the funeral, and the poor boy's grief, upset me. But, 
 as you sa}'-, he is happier than we are, that's certain. God's will be 
 done ! 
 
 I am at Boston, in England, I believe ; but the resemblance to the 
 American of selfsame name is perfect in one thing. It was there I en- 
 countered the severe frost. I had to walk half a mile after dark, sup- 
 ported by my manager, first, over frozen barges and boats, and then we 
 slid to the inn. The canal and river were so frozen here that we were 
 soothed by the assurance when we started, that we should be impeded 
 by the ice ; luckily the boat from hence went at eight, and we at eleven 
 o'clock, therefore they " broke the ice" for us. 
 
 I am delighted poor dear Charles has gone back to Brighton. If I 
 
 * It was his usual method of describing a state of forced and boisterous 
 excitement to compare it with the desperate mirth of convicts, to drown their 
 care. 
 
'366 THE LIFE AND COKRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 had been cheered by your saying, "lam going with him," it would 
 have sent me to bed in a tranquil state. How he could consent to go 
 without you will yet be explained. You ought not to have remained. 
 It was a duty to yourself to have quitted home for a time. 
 
 I don't think I shall get home until about the 3rd or 4th of December. 
 Get thee to Brighton, and let me find you there. I love and adore 
 you for your kindness and devotion, and more for your suffering for 
 Nanini. 
 
 CM. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 369 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 Mr. Mathews and family at Brighton — His performances at the Pavilion — 
 Letter to Mr. Peake : illiberal exclusion from the Beef-steak Club — Letter 
 to Mr. Gyles, containing a summary of Mr. Mathews's feelings and circum- 
 stances at the commencement of 1832 — Mr. Mathews's Comic Annual for 
 1832 — Mr. Mathews in his ** private box" at the House of Commons — Effect 
 of his presence on several of the members — Singular nocturnal adventure: 
 an escaped felon — A painful accident — Paganini and Mr. Mathews at South- 
 ampton — Mr. Mathews's performance at Portsmouth — Another accident — 
 Letters to Mrs. Mathews — Mr. Mathews's fondness for the brute creation — 
 The Duke of Wellington and Mr. Mathews in the Zoological Gardens — A 
 Newfoundland-dog — A stray goat. 
 
 I2^ December, Mr. Mathews joined Charles and myself at 
 Brighton, — his refuge and solace under mental as well as bodily 
 suffering. He was heart-sick, as indeed we all were, at the loss 
 of poor Nanini, and we felt the comfort of a release from home 
 and social claims. Here we could do as we liked, — be alone or 
 otherwise, which I take to be one of the greatest benefits de- 
 rived from such a place, where the mind is wounded or the body 
 delicate. 
 
 My husband felt the beneficial effects on both in a few weeks, 
 of which the succeeding letter, written after experiencing the 
 exhilarating effects of the sea-breeze upon his constitution, will 
 give evidence. I will introduce it with the following notice 
 which appeared at the time : — 
 
 *' Mathews entertained the company at the Pavilion last night with 
 selections from his various entertainments, which his Majesty, and the 
 Princess Augusta in particular, relished highI3^ This great master of 
 the comic art was afterwards honoured with the society of Lord Errol 
 and Lord Burghersh at his supper-table in the palace." 
 
 To Mr. Feahe. 
 
 Brighton, Dec. 26th, 1831. 
 Deae Peake, — Merry Christmas and a happy New Year to thee and 
 thine. 
 
 On Friday, William, No. 4, invited me to the Pavilion. I worked at 
 
 B B 
 
870 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 the two annuals for three hours without a yawn — party (almost, if not 
 quite) exclusively of nobility. Everything went off capitally, and 
 royalty in the best of all possible humours. It was really good fun, and 
 I felt it so. I am in high force, — sound lungs (alas ! not limbs), capital 
 spirits, and should be quite happy ; but I never can be as long as 
 Eichards lives, and is stout upon the point, as he told me, that I am 
 excluded by my profession from being a member of the Beef-steak Club. 
 Will this be believed in 1845 ? 
 
 Yours ever, C. Mathews. 
 
 Although in the preceding letter to Mr. Peake he adverts in 
 a playful mood to his non-admittance as a member of the Beef- 
 steak Club, he felt it in a more serious manner ; and the plea, I 
 think, annoyed him more than the exclusion itself; for, as he 
 often visited it (as often, indeed, as he felt disposed to accom- 
 pany any member), he never could be satisfied at not being a 
 member himself. Certainly it does seem extraordinary that 
 such a plea as Mr. Mathews's profession should have been as- 
 signed as a reason for excluding his name from being enrolled in 
 a society where his presence was universally courted and hailed 
 writh pleasure. No other profession shared this invidious ob- 
 jection ; lawyers, authors, painters, nay, managers, were freely- 
 admitted as members, and why not a first-rate actor ? In this 
 liberal and enlightened age it is hardly conceivable that a gen- 
 tleman in one profession should not be as much honoured in 
 such a club as the member of any other ; and I could never 
 understand why we should not respect a man who acts well as 
 much as one who paints well. Each " holds the mirror up to 
 nature." With regard to the theatrical profession itself, I am 
 not competent to say anything that can raise it more than the 
 encouragement the highest of our intellectual and moral autho- 
 rities have already done. Next to the pulpit, the British stage 
 is the best school for general improvement ; for, as it has been 
 well observed, " we are there humanized without suffering ; we 
 become acquainted with the manners of nations, acquire a polisb 
 without travelling, and wdthout the trouble of study imbibe 
 the most pleasing, the most useful of lessons." * 
 
 The members of this club were individually persons who pa- 
 tronized the drama, and respected, even courted my husband, 
 there, as well as in their own houses ; they therefore denied him 
 and themselves a gratification, in order to maintain some ancient 
 prejudice which had become a rule ; and these very persons, who 
 selected their motto from the writings of a "poor player," were 
 
 * Aaron Hill. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 871 
 
 persistingly adverse to admit one of the most respectable of his 
 craft into their brotherhood. " Will this," as he asks, " be 
 believed in 1845 ?" 
 
 The following letter will be found to contain an affecting 
 summary of the writer's feelings and circumstances at this 
 period : — 
 
 To K. B. Gyles, Esq. 
 
 Kentish Town, Feb. 1st, 1832. 
 
 My deae Gyles, — You begin in your last by talking of my " reso- 
 lute silence." If I had an opportunity of explaining in person instead 
 of writing, which I abhor, I do flatter myself I could justify myself in 
 your opinion, and you would only wonder that I am disposed to write 
 at all, when I am not compelled. I was absent from home until the 
 last fortnight, from the beginning of October. I have been making a 
 Yorkshire tour. On those occasions I am compelled to forbid all letters 
 being sent after me : my wife opens, and answers all that are really 
 material. On my return, I found my home deserted ; affliction had sat 
 heavily on my wife, and she and Charles had fled to Brighton. I had 
 notice of it only in time to prevent my going home. This was in 
 December. I passed through London without coming here. My poor 
 wife had suffered two severe blows during my absence : my brother-in- 
 law destroyed himself and a considerable part of my property at the 
 same time ; and the attached friend, rather than servant, of my son, 
 sickened, lingered, and died in our cottage ! My son was too ill to 
 bear the afflicting intelligence. She knew my attachment to the glorious 
 kind-hearted Italian, and that I should be unfit for exertion if I were 
 aware of his danger. She therefore contented herself by doing all that 
 could be done to soothe him. She shared the nursing, night and day, 
 with the female servants, clinging to the adage, that while there is life 
 there is hope, until the fiat of the physician dissipated all hopes. Charles 
 was sent for, but too late. He only had the melancholy satisfaction of 
 following to the grave one of the most interesting of all human 
 creatures that ever lived — one to whom he owed his own life — and who 
 volunteered, when Charles was more helpless than an infant, to leave 
 his native countrj'-, wife, and children, to " render him" (to use his own 
 words) *' into the arms of his beloved mother." I state without hesi- 
 tation that our boy must have died bad he remained in Italy; and he 
 states, as distinctly, that had not the lamented Nanini accompanied him, 
 he never could have dared to venture home in a paralytic state, not to 
 be understood as to extent, or believed without witnessing it. You 
 cannot wonder, then, after three years' knowledge of one of the most 
 faithful of mortals, and feeling, independently of his fun, his various 
 talents for a companion, who had watched Charles nightly and daily for 
 one year of the time when he could not lift his hand even to feed him- 
 self — what must be the agonizing recollection that he probably lost his 
 life in preserving ours — for we only lived in the hopes of the recovery 
 of our dear Charles, who arrived apparently a corpse at our gate, voice 
 
 B B 2 
 
S72 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 alone giving indications of animation. But he is gone, and we have 
 not yet recovered the blow. Nothing in my recollection ever affected 
 me more. Charles forced his mother from the house, where everything, 
 animate or inanimate, reminded her of the melancholy scene she had 
 witnessed, and wisely took her to Brighton, forbidding the servants to 
 forward any letters to her, or acknowledge any had arrived, as he 
 determined she should not be worried by any cares. Letters of friend- 
 ship, business, applications for " orders for two for this evening," bills, 
 invitations to dinner, new farces, translations of melodramas, petitions 
 from beggars, and circulars from tradesmen, therefore, shared one 
 common fate. You had, therefore, only neighbour's fare ; and your 
 first went into your second, and your second went into a hole, and there 
 remained until I returned. You may suppose what a scene was then 
 presented. I have been writing ever since; my eyes ache, my arm 
 aches, and I have had plent}"- to make my heart ache. Are you 
 answered ? Am I excused ? My wife begged me to excuse her, as she 
 says she must have appeared "very unkind as well as rude." So much 
 for defence. You little thought how hard you would hit me in one 
 part of your letter ; you brought bitter tears into my eyes, and made 
 me exclaim, "I prithee do not mock me!" "Eetire!" indeed— 
 " evening of Kfe" — " repose." These friendly wishes as to the means 
 came at an unlucky period. You may guess at my expenditure in 
 living; you may guess that sometimes theatres may be un prosperous ; 
 you might (but who thinks on such subjects when determined to make 
 a neighbour rich or poor ?), you might try and sum up what Charles's 
 stay in Italy,* and illness, apparently most fatal, in a foreign countrj^ 
 with foreign leeches to fee, cost me ; the cost of a carriage with bed 
 inside ; posting twelve hundred miles, &c. When you have made a 
 calculation, I will inform you in addition, that a distillery company cost 
 
 me 800Z. last year ; that 's bankruptcy cost me 500^. the year 
 
 before ; that on the same day of the autumn of last year I had ascer- 
 tained on the spot the entire loss of the large sum I had embarked in 
 Welsh iron and coal, &c. ; then my brother-in-law's suicide. (I have 
 had my trials, my dear Gyles, I assure you.) The interest I received 
 from him was no trifling portion of that income, which for seven years 
 to come I cannot gain from the Adelphi. All these staggering blows 
 so nearly floored me, that I began to look about me for all that was 
 available in property. Though a trifle, I looked over Mr. Brough's 
 affair. If you are in a condition to do it, I wish you would purchase 
 it back. It would assist me now, I assure you. In a letter of yours, 
 dated February, 1826, you say, " however, you shall have no trouble 
 about it, and I hold myself accountable to you for the uttermost 
 farthing." As to the old lady's dying before me, I have no faith.f It 
 is now six years since that was written : I am not ashamed to say that 
 it would serve me now. 
 
 * Four years, 
 t TLe aged person on whose life the bond in question was granted — she 
 outlived him. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 373 
 
 Have you heard that Charles, on crutch- sticks, lingered on Ross 
 Bridge in hopes of seeing you emerge from your cottage, and was 
 contemplating a surprise, when he was informed you were at Chel- 
 tenham ? this was last June. You never mention poor Neptune. I 
 hope he is safe. Charles, I am happy to say, now for the first time 
 exhibits signs of returning strength ; Brighton has enabled him to 
 throw away his stick. 
 
 Remember us all kindly to your wife and yourself, and all yours j and 
 be assured, notwithstanding our apparent neglect, that I am. 
 
 Most sincerely yours, Mathews. 
 
 The following announcement will give the particulars of this 
 year's entertainment at the Adelphi : — 
 
 2nd May. 
 MR. MATHEWS 
 
 Has published the Third Volume of his 
 
 COMIC ANNUAL FOR 1832.* 
 
 Embellished with numerous cuts, eccentric portraits, and various 
 head and tail pieces. 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 Preface. — Eirst Sketch. — Bachelor Winhs. — Cold Bath and over- 
 flowing House. — Suspicious Character. — Mr. Anthony Sillylynx and 
 his Hibernian housekeeper. — Infanticide. — Gross mistake. — Turn over 
 a new leaf. — Song, Morning Lounges. — Portrait from life. — Boh 
 Tenterhook. — Yorkshire genius. — Intellectual Ironmonger. — Black- 
 letter Brazier and talented Tinman. — Advantages of cultivating the 
 mind. — Mr. and Mrs. Masculine. — Effects of eating a hot supper, 
 and of reading the Sporting Journal. — Sir Griffith Jenkins. — Welsh 
 Fox-hunter. — Song, Fox Chase. — Bachelor Winks in jeopardy. — 
 Melancholy Barber. — A Shaving clause. — American acquaintance, Mr. 
 Joshua Brandywine Crackit. — Embark for France. — Dieppe packet. 
 — Scenic embellishment. — Two in a berth (not twins). 
 
 PAST SECOND. 
 
 Portrait, a Dutch original. — Mrs. Oherfiachlich. — Art versus 
 Nature. — Perfection in petticoats. — School for Daughters. — Song, 
 Modern JEducation. — Itinerant traders. — Love in a Fish-basket, and a 
 Heart in a Hare-skin. — Street Cries. — Interesting dialogue between 
 Mrs. Hogsback and Mary Briggles. — Coming to a stand. — Song, 
 Hackney Coach. — Original sketch from the ocean. — Tom Piper, a 
 cruising chronicle. — Mr. Dozy and his watch-dog Busy. — Visit in 
 Lothbury. — Lots of Bargains. — Song, Auction Mart. 
 
 * The joint production of R. B. Peake, Esq., and Charles J. Mathews. 
 
874j- the life and correspondence of 
 
 PART THIED * 
 
 A monopolylogue, to be entitled the 
 EDDYSTONE LIGHTHOUSE. 
 
 The introductory drop of the ocean painted by Mr. Tomkins; the 
 section of the interior of the Lighthouse painted by Messrs. Tom- 
 kins and Pitt j the dresses by Mr. Godbee. 
 
 Dramatis Personce. 
 
 Donald M' Quaigh, — ) Two lighthouse keepers, whose turn it 
 
 Adam Child (aged 90),f \ is to be relieved. 
 
 Sally Grogrum, — An esteemed bum-boat woman. 
 
 Bat Owlet ) The two light-keepers who come from 
 
 Tom Merry weather, ) Plymouth on duty. 
 
 Cockswain of the shore-boat, — with a speaking trumpet. 
 
 The whole of the characters to be represented by Mr. Mathews, &c. &c. 
 
 • The unvarying kindness of the Speaker enabled my husband 
 to enjoy one of his greatest delights, namely, the debates in the 
 House of Commons ; where he was accommodated with a seat 
 under the gallery, passing to it privately and without difficulty 
 through the Speaker's house. When he first availed himself of 
 this privilege many an eye was turned upon him, with some- 
 thing like an inquiring expression, that seemed to say, " Which 
 of us do you want r"' But Mr. Mathews alway felt that he was 
 there upon honour, admitted as a private man ; and it is well 
 known, that though for some years he had these opportunities 
 (and who will say he could not have turned them to public 
 use ?), he was never known to introduce one imitation, with 
 the exception of a renewal of a former one of the great agitator, 
 when his peculiar voice and manner was not known in England, 
 and without any personal or political allusions. When he first 
 enjoyed what he called his " private box" in the House of Com- 
 mons, he was visited in turn by numbers of those who were the 
 principal actors in the interesting scene, some of whom would 
 then sound him, — " Here's a wide field for you, Mr. Mathews," 
 one would say. Another would ask, smilingly, "I hope you 
 mean to spare me, Mr. Mathews?" Some would, without any 
 attempt at pleasantry, look seriously anxious ; and not until a 
 safe time had passed without any public manifestation of an 
 intention to break in upon the public peace of certain nervous 
 
 * By R. B. Peake, Esq. 
 t One of the finest, most interesting, and pleasing representations of exti\ » ^ 
 old age imaginable. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 875 
 
 members, were all easy when they saw him seated with his 
 acute eyes upon them. 
 
 On these occasions he never took his watch, lest he should be 
 tempted to look at it ; and in order that there should be no 
 drawback to his perfect enjoyment, he would not return home 
 to Kentish Town, but was accommodated by a bachelor friend, 
 who lived at Millbank, with a bed, and whose valet had to sit 
 up for his master, his hours being generally late. All this 
 arrangement, he said, gave him no regret at keeping people up 
 yawning for his return ; a circumstance which embittered all his 
 enjo^^ment when it happened. 
 
 One night, or rather morning, after an unusually long 
 debate upon some very interesting subject, Mr. Mathews, with- 
 out knowing the hour, left St. Stephen's. His long sitting 
 had cramped his limbs, and rendered his lameness very painful ; 
 he therefore proceeded very slowly towards his place of rest. 
 Everything seemed dead and still as he crept along with diffi- 
 culty, holding by the iron railing as he went, for he had no stick 
 with him. AH at once he heard a low tinkling sound behind 
 him, — he stopped, and the sound ceased also ; again he pro- 
 ceeded at his slow pace, and again the sound was heard. Its 
 metallic character annoyed him, and he was not only curious to 
 ascertain whence it proceeded, but anxious to shape his own 
 course so as to elude the tiresome effect. Still, however, the 
 sound seemed regulated by his motions, as if it were a part of 
 them ; for every time he made the experiment of a stop it im- 
 mediately stopped too, and as soon as he resumed his walk so 
 soon was the clinking noise resumed. The morning was cloudy, 
 and objects, except quite close, not easily discerned. However, 
 as he could not but suppose that whatever caused this teasing 
 and persevering accompaniment to his steps must have a will 
 and power to direct it independently of him, he resolved to out- 
 stay the effect, or at least the cause of such effect, and leaned 
 against a railing determined to give patience reins. The noise 
 again ceased, and a long pause of unbroken silence followed. 
 He now began to think he should be foiled in his intention of 
 discovering the cause, or, perhaps, that this mysterious sound 
 had altered its course, or had ceased altogether. It was very 
 late, and beginning to be nervous lest he had already trespassed 
 upon his friend's kindness by outstaying him, and so keeping his 
 servant up later than his master's pleasure required, he began 
 once mord to urge his uneven steps, when again the mysterious 
 sounds were heard. At this he was in despair, and exerted 
 
o76 THE LIFE AND COERESPONDENCE OF 
 
 himself to proceed at something approaching a rapid pace ; the 
 clinking became quicker in proportion, and he involuntarily placed 
 his back against the same kind of resting-place as before, and 
 faced suddenly about, when all was once more silent. But, in a 
 minute or two, the metallic sounds were to be heard for the first 
 time while he was inactive, and in the next moment, out of the 
 dusk of the atmosphere, a human figure came close up to him, 
 rather a startling circumstance at such a time and in such a 
 place. The figure then paused, and in mild and very harmo- 
 nious tones observed, " I'm afraid, sir, you are suffering ? you 
 seem in pain." Mr. Mathews replied, " No ; I'm rather cramped 
 by long sitting in the House of Commons, that's all." " But 
 you seem lame, sir !" — " Yes ; I am, rather," was the answer. 
 " Allow me, sir, to offer you my aid ; I too have come from the 
 House of Commons, and, it seems, am going your way. It will 
 really give me pleasure to see you safely home and assist you 
 with my arm." Mr. Mathews could not discern whether the 
 person's dress w^as that of a gentleman or not ; he could only 
 perceive that he wore a long coat, resembling a great-coat. It 
 was hazardous to make companionship with an unknown, un- 
 seen person ; however, the kindness of his proffer, the tone of 
 his voice, and, perhaps, more than all this, Mr. Mathews's in- 
 firmity of limb, proved powerfully persuasive, and he accepted 
 the offer of the stranger's arm, who kindly, and affectionately 
 even, pressed him to lean hard and not spare him, assuring him 
 that he had been used to attend an invalid, and knew how to 
 feel for one ; above all, entreated him to walk as slowly as he 
 liked, for that he himself was in no haste. Just then my hus- 
 band recommenced his course ; and lo ! on his very first step, 
 the harassing noise was once more audible. He stopped, as if 
 irresolute. The man mildly inquired whether his pain had re- 
 turned. Mr. Mathews made an excuse and proceeded, and so 
 did the noise. In a minute a policeman turned the corner, and 
 looking at the wayfarers wished them a good-night. My hus- 
 band fancied that his companion started and was agitated, and 
 this fancy made him involuntarily pause, with an imperfect 
 intention of asking protection of the policeman. — But from 
 what ? While this crossed him the policeman had left the spot; 
 his companion kindly awaited his intimation of proceeding, and 
 on they walked— -sometimes slow, then quicker — the humane 
 stranger talking loud but without much method, as my husband 
 hobbled silently by his side, speculating upon the probable 
 termination of the adventure. Suddenly a lamp gleamed for a 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 377 
 
 moment upon them as they passed under it ; my husband's eyes 
 were cast down upon the way his steps were taking, and to his 
 infinite horror he discovered the cause of the noises that had so 
 puzzled him — a fetter was fastened round the ankle of the 
 stranger, from which hung a bit of chain, or something that 
 had been broken from a hold, the end of which striking against 
 the fetter had evidently occasioned the clinking noise described ! 
 My poor husband was in reality arm-in-arm with an escaped 
 felon ! He had presence of mind, however, after the first pres- 
 sure which the discovery induced his fingers to make upon the 
 man's arm (and which drew forth an anxious inquiry from his 
 supporter) to conceal his knowledge, but he walked a little 
 quicker, anxious to end the adventure, and somewhat in doubt 
 of the manner in which it might please his new friend that it 
 should end. At last it was necessary to cross the road to the 
 house, and the man asked, in some trepidation, " Are you thea 
 at home, sir ?" My husband replied in the afiirmative, and 
 begged not to trouble him to cross the road with him ; but the 
 stranger's courtesy was not so to be stinted, and he carefully 
 assisted his charge to the door. Mr. Mathews was about to 
 thank him for his services, and to offer him payment for them. 
 Before he could speak, however, or put his hand into his pocket 
 for the purpose of giving a trifle to the wretched man, he darted 
 away from the door, and was invisible, and noiseless too, in a 
 few moments. 
 
 My husband's manner of accounting for this singular adven- 
 ture was, that this person was of course anxious to proceed 
 without attracting notice, and in following the steps, of another 
 he calculated that his own whereabout would not be so notice- 
 able. The frequent halts made by his companion in advance 
 naturally made him timorous of proceeding, until at last finding 
 lameness or illness to be the cause, he reasonably conceived the 
 advantage of joining himself to a companion who so obviously 
 required an attendant, and thus of diverting the attention of the 
 police from himself, as the sound which necessarily accompanied 
 his movements would not be so distinct while talking and walking 
 with another person as if silent and alone. It was, however, a 
 very uncomfortable situation for my husband, who owned that 
 he did not feel altogether valiant under the expected attack, and 
 the consciousness of his own helpless state of non-resistance. We 
 looked carefully in the next day's papers, but read of no escaped 
 criminal. I fear that, unfavourably to the ends of justice, we 
 felt a hope that the poor fellow had not been retaken, and my 
 
378 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 husband was ever after vexed that he had not been allowed to 
 provide the poor outcast with the means of a meal or two in his 
 forlorn plight. Somehow, he could not believe that this man 
 had committed any very heinous crime. He was evidently young, 
 and apparently kind, and with that " excellent thing in" man as 
 well as "woman," a soft-toned voice, which, whether we will or 
 not, makes its imperceptible way to our feelings. 
 
 My husband never went abroad without something odd hap- 
 pening to him. This adventure, however, was his last in that 
 neighbourhood, for whether he was himself timid, or only yielded 
 to my entreaties, he never slept at Millbank again, but always 
 returned home after the debates. 
 
 In September my husband was invited from Holly-hill, where 
 we were staying with some friends, to perform a few nights at 
 Southampton and Portsmouth, when, by a fatality that seemed 
 to attend him, he met with a very peculiar as well as painful 
 accident. Charles and I had preceded him one evening, after a 
 walk upon the Platform, to our lodgings, by his desire, in order 
 that he might follow us more leisurely than he thought we liked 
 to walk. In a few minutes Charles was beckoned from the 
 room, and disappeared. Suspecting something wrong, I inquired 
 the way he had taken, and followed. A few yards from the 
 house I found father and son on the ground, the first unable to 
 move from pain, the other from a fainting fit, caused by the sur- 
 prise and shock of seeing his father, as he supposed, dead. The 
 accident was occasioned by a large dog, which running at full 
 speed close to my husband, knocked him down with such violence, 
 that he remained a few minutes in a state of insensibility. He 
 was raised from the ground by the persons who saw the acci- 
 dent, and when restored to recollection, was able to describe 
 his place of residence. On being conveyed home, a surgeon 
 was sent for, and it \vas found that he had severel}^ sprained his 
 ankle, and received some other contusions of a painful nature. 
 
 Notwithstanding Mr. Mathews's state of suffering, a repre- 
 sentation being made to him of the great loss his failure to per- 
 form on the stipulated night would cause a not flourishing 
 management, he consented to be carried to the theatre on the 
 evening in question, where he was propped up behind his table, 
 and I was told (for I had not the heart to witness the effort) 
 performed delightfully. It is worthy of notice, that when we 
 arrived at Southampton, we found Paganini announced to per- 
 form on the morning of the evening fixed for Mr. Mathews's 
 performance. This probable disadvantage to the latter was felt 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 379 
 
 "by the great musician, who sent an agreeable friend of his* to 
 say he would withdraw, for that he could not reconcile to him- 
 self opposing a brother artist, especially Mr. Mathews, pleasantly 
 adding, as a reason for mutual consideration, " that they both 
 performed on one string.'''* This liberal proposition was over- 
 ruled by my husband, and, as it happened, no injury resulted 
 to him from the more novel attraction. Paganini (who had 
 seen Mr. Mathews "At Home" in his London season) was 
 always most friendly to him, and we subsequently often met 
 him in society. 
 
 We now proceeded to a friend's house in the Isle of Wight, 
 where, after some time, the bruised and shaken invalid felt very 
 much relieved, and we at length left Puckaster, with an inten- 
 tion of proceeding home. On the way my husband was pressed 
 to stop at Eastdene, where, soon becoming considerably better, 
 he induced Charles and myself to leave him and go home on 
 business that required our presence. We left the sufferer 
 believing him to be in a fair way of recovery. Unfortunately, 
 after we were gone, he received another injury, and from another 
 dog ! Sitting one day basking, as he termed it, in the mid-day 
 sun, in full enjoyment of its scorchhig heat, an animal with whom 
 he had been in the habit of playing formerly, ran frolicking up 
 and jumping against his now weak playmate, knocked him ott 
 the seat with great violence upon the lawn, spraining his right 
 hand severely, and injuring his already suffering ankle. Being 
 unable to rise without aid, and no one perceiving what had 
 happened for some time afterwards, he was found lying in great 
 agony. This additional misfortune rendered him again as help- 
 less as infancy. His host being obliged to leave home, Mr. 
 Mathews, after a few days passed totally in solitude, made a 
 great effort to remove, and at last determined to return to 
 Holly-hill. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews, 
 
 Holly-hill, Saturday, 1832. 
 
 I am progressing satisfactorily, but slowly ; ray hand is nearly well 
 enough to bear the pressure of a stick, which is very important. I have to- 
 day had a most delightful expedition, without the slightest injury or incon- 
 venience. Three hours in beautiful sunshine on my element. How did 
 you get to the water-side ? you say. — Guess, again ; — give it up ? — In 
 a wheelbarrow. Fact ! And when I come home remind me to tell you 
 how the boatman wheeled me that used to wheel Lady Dundonald, " all 
 about these um grounds." This was her fancy. Why, he could not 
 tell. She was not lame.f 
 
 * Mr. Freeman, 
 + This allusion is not to the present lady. 
 
380 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 I am afraid I shall be unpopiilar; but I cannot help it, and you wont 
 be angry. Mark my words, by about Wednesday or Thursday next, 
 when you are a little reconciled — you admire beauty, and particularly 
 miniature beauty, and if I am a judge you will be more than reconciled 
 — you will be fondly attached ; and if you could fall in love with the 
 little beauty of last year, you will be fascinated now. In short, you 
 must send Fowler on Monday at six o'clock, or a little before, to the 
 Gloucester Coffee-house, Piccadilly, to the Eed Rover Southampton 
 coach, and he will see Mrs. Morton and her two sons, one of whom will 
 deliver the prettiest white kitten in Christendom. Wait till you see 
 it, that's all. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 This overweening love for all sorts of animals was such, that 
 I dreaded his seeing any not his own, lest I should have my 
 already over-stocked house and ground still further encumbered. 
 His alarm at his present addition arose from my extreme terror 
 of a cat, although to oblige him, I once travelled in a carriage 
 from Paris with a large Angola cat, given to him by Count 
 d'Orsay. He certainly derived at least one half of his enjoy- 
 ments from the brute creation, and they afforded him as much 
 speculative interest as the human race, for he discovered varieties 
 and points of character in these his pets as well as in his own 
 species. He became a fellow of the Zoological Gardens, purely 
 for the privilege of being able, whenever inclined, to divert him- 
 self with the beasts and birds, and would watch them for hours 
 with the most untiring interest and childish merriment. I 
 remember one day, when I accompanied him to see a peculiar 
 and absurd-looking cockatoo placed in that bird-Babel, where the 
 birds all chattered together, the Duke of Wellington accosted 
 my husband with his usual condescension, and taxed him with 
 frequenting these gardens for studies of character. Mr. Mathews 
 did not deny this, for he was ashamed to confess that he came 
 only to play with the animals. It was not true that he was a 
 seeker after peculiarities, in human nature ; he only picked them 
 up when they fell in his way. 
 
 The following is an amusing instance of the notice which Mr. 
 Mathews took of animals wherever he found them, 
 
 " Mathews's interest in the curiosities of natural history was not 
 confined to the human specimen. He took great pleasure in horses and 
 dogs. Of his respect for any remarkable specimens of the latter I re- 
 member a characteristic instance. I happened to be at Bath once when 
 he was giving his * At Home' there. As we were walking along one of 
 the principal streets together one morning, a noble Newfoundland dog 
 was sitting sedately bolt upxight at a door that we had to pass. As 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 381 
 
 soon as we got opposite to the dog, Mathews stopped short, went to 
 the edge of the pavement, took off his hat, and made a low bow to the 
 evidently astonished animal, and then passed on without saying a word. 
 * Do you know him,' said I, 'that you salute him in that fashion?' 
 — ' No,' he replied, * but I have a profound respect for a dog like that, 
 and I generally show it in the way you have seen.' " * 
 
 This anecdote reminds rae of the following: — During our 
 second year in London, when we lived in lodgings, I was 
 awakened one morning at daj^-break by a commotion in the 
 house, an*d I thought I heard the word coat reiterated with 
 great emphasis by several voices. At last came a tap at the 
 chamber door, and an inquir^^ which I translated to my husband 
 into, " Did you bring a coat home with you last night ?" This 
 question threw him into convulsions of laughter, which were 
 afterwards accounted for in the following manner. 
 
 Mr. Mathews had supped out with a party of gentlemen, and 
 returned home between two and three in the morning. As he 
 came up the street, a large goat met him, and made a sort of 
 appeal ; my husband in return made him a bow, and talked to 
 him as was his habit to animals, making matter out of the cir- 
 cumstance of the time. The goat seemed to be in distress. Mr. 
 Mathews inquired of him whether he was locked out of his 
 lodgings ? The animal uttered sounds expressive to my hus- 
 band's ear of a distressed affirmative, and as he proceeded, the 
 goat turned and walked side by side with him to the door, where 
 he paused, as if determined not to leave him. Mr. Mathews then 
 told him that he regretted his forlorn situation, and feared he had 
 no bed to offer him fitted to his habits and convenience. Still 
 the animal pleaded eloquently in his own way. As the resident 
 was letting himself in with a key, his friend, " bearded like the 
 pard," seemed to say, " Pray don't close your hospitable door 
 against me!" and the petition was not addressed to a callous 
 ear or an unfeeling heart. He was told he should have shelter 
 for the night ; and as the lock of the door turned, and Mr. 
 Mathews entered the house, the goat, taking him at his word, 
 rushed by him, and, as if accustomed to its turnings and locali- 
 ties, ran down into the kitchen and laid himself in an attitude of 
 content and thankfulness upon the hearth. There my husband 
 left him after a few remarks upon propriety of conduct, and a 
 tacit agreement on his guest's part not to do any damage to the 
 moveables, or disgrace his patronage. 
 
 * " Persoi-'al Recollections" of Mr. Mathews. 
 
882 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OP 
 
 It appeared that when the servants entered the kitchen the 
 following morning, the sight of this huge horned beast alarmed 
 the females, who in vain endeavoured to turn it out. Every one 
 of the house authorities in succession essayed, but without suc- 
 cess, and this occasioned the perturbation, which at length 
 reached the hearing of the " sole contriver of this harm," who, 
 remembering the creature's manner and conduct over-night, was 
 tickled at its present behaviour, and the consternation its ap- 
 pearance in the house occasioned. 
 
 I had some difficulty in persuading Mr. Mathews not to keep 
 this animal as a pensioner in the neighbourhood, fearing that his 
 partiality would bring it sometimes as a visitor to me ; and it 
 was with something of sadness that he allowed the animal to 
 depart, although he caused it to be traced to a livery- stable yard 
 (where it was evidently valued and had been regretted during 
 its absence), in order to be assured that it was provided for. He 
 often afterwards went to see it. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 383 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIir. 
 
 Mr. Mathews a great hunter after " sights" — The Fasting Woman of Tetbury; 
 the Living Skeleton ; Daniel Lambert ; Miss Crackham, an Irish Sicilian — 
 Hottentot Venus — Mr. Kemble's visit to the last-mentioned curiosity — A 
 midnight scene : Mustapha the cat, Mr. Mathews, and Mr. Kemble — Mr. 
 Mathews's anxiety for the means of retirement and repose — His losses in 
 bubble companies — His conviction that his constitution was breaking up— 
 Removal from the Cottage to London — The Adelphi Theatre property — 
 Action at law against Mr. Mathews for thirty thousand pounds — Exhibition 
 of the pictures collected by Mr. Mathews — His London residence — His final 
 departure from the Cottage — Decline of his health and spirits — His com- 
 mencement of his autobiography — His lethargy — Letter from Mr. Mathews 
 to Mr. Gyles — Account of the exhibition of the theatrical pictures — Mr. 
 Mathews at the dinner of the Covent Garden Theatrical Fund : imitation of 
 "Glorious Dan" — Mr. Mathews's "Comic Annual" for 1833. 
 
 Until the Zoological Gardens afforded readier indulgence to his 
 taste, Mr. Mathews used to visit Exeter 'Change, the Tower, 
 and the fairs in the neighbourhood of London, for the sole pur- 
 pose of beholding such beings as were not elsewhere to be found, 
 even of the human as well as other animals. Brook-Green was 
 the spot of one of these pleasurings ; and a small party of gen- 
 tlemen, with similar likings, or else out of a courteous wish to 
 please Mr. Mathews, would annually drive to see the " lions" of 
 every kind. 
 
 Mr. Mathews was all his life a great sight-seer — that is, if 
 the curiosity was either a human or any other animal ; but he 
 was not a follower of mere pageants. 
 
 Many j^ears since he formed a strong attachment to the Spotted 
 Boy, whom he visited frequently. The child loved him very 
 much, and they played together by the hour. When this boy 
 died, Mr. Mathews was much affected. Every one who knew 
 my husband also knew how great a regard he for many years 
 entertained for the accomplished and elegant dwarf, Count Bo- 
 ruwlaski,* with whom he first became acquainted in 1800. The 
 
 • Count Boruwlaski died at the time this was written, in September, 1837, 
 at the great age of ninety-nine, but in full possession of his faculties. 
 
S84 THE LIFE AND COEKESPONDENCE OF 
 
 Fasting Woman of Tetbury (since, I believe, proved to have 
 been partly an impostor) interested him deeply. Indeed, he 
 never omitted seeing anything uncommon in animated nature ; 
 and the Living Skeleton and Mr. Lambert were alike objects of 
 his contemplation. The latter he visited frequently, and found 
 him very intelligent. The half-courteous, half-sullen manner in 
 which this "gross fat man" received the majority of his visitors 
 met the humour of my husband, and he liked as well as pitied 
 him ; for it was distressing sometimes to hear the coarse obser- 
 vations made by unfeeling people, and the silly unthinking 
 questions asked b}"- many of them about his appetite, &c. 
 
 Where Mr. Mathews's feelings were not interested, he found 
 amusement, and came home with many a droll account of what 
 he had seen, of which I liked to hear, although I always shrunk 
 from the sights themselves. At Liverpool, he was tempted to 
 pay a visit to a Miss Crackham, a young lady of very limited 
 dimensions. When he entered the room, he found her seated 
 on a raised platform, in seeming mockery of regal state, to re- 
 ceive her visitors : she was described to be of foreign birth. The 
 man who attended her, attired in a strange garb, had a tall 
 athletic figure, and formed an admirable contrast to the tiny 
 proportions of his daughter, as he called her. Oh, for tlie power 
 to describe as I heard this scene described ! The lady was a 
 most disgusting little withered creature (although young), very 
 white, and, what my husband disliked very much in any woman, 
 had a powdery look upon her skin. Her voice was pitched in 
 the highest key of childish treble, indeed so thin and comb-like, 
 that it hardly reached the ear of those to whom she spoke. Her 
 "papa," however, considerately repeated all she said, for the 
 satisfaction of her patrons, adding many particulars not men- 
 tionable to ears polite. Mr. Mathews was quite alone with 
 them, for Miss Crackham was not " sought after" by the gen- 
 tlemen of Liverpool — an eternal stain upon their gallantry ! — 
 and, after some time, during which the man conversed with in- 
 creased confidence, derived from his visitor's " attentive hearing," 
 my husband startled the foreigner when he spoke of his birth- 
 place (Palermo), by asking, significantly, whether it was Palermo 
 in the county of Cork where he was born ? At this inquiry, the 
 man leered at him in an arch manner, scratching his head for a 
 moment, and rubbing his cheek with his hand, as if puzzled how 
 to treat the question. At last he winked his eye, and putting 
 his finger to the side of his nose, said, " Och ! I see your honour'^ 
 a deep 'un 1 Sure, your right ; but don't peach !" And in order 
 
CHAKLES MATHEWS. 885 
 
 to lay my husband under an obligation that might insure his 
 secrecy, he offered him, gratis, what was never allowed to the 
 public without additional fee, the amount of which was announced 
 in large letters over the platform, in the following words : " Those 
 who handle Miss Crackham will be expected to pay another 
 shilling." My husband had forbearance enough to decline this 
 liberality and the opportunity proffered, and never mentioned 
 the ingenious foreigner's secret to anybody but his own family, 
 and friends, and acquaintances, &c. 
 
 The " Hottentot Venus," as a matter of course, attracted this 
 professed seeker of sights. In those days, when bustles were 
 not, she was a curiosity, for English ladies then wore no shape 
 but what Nature gave and insisted upon ; and the Grecian dra- 
 pery was simply thrown upon the natural form, without whale- 
 bone or buckram to distort or disguise it. Well, then, a Hot- 
 tentot Venus being in that day a novelty, Mr. Mathews of course 
 went to see her. 
 
 He found her surrounded by many persons, some females! 
 One pinched her, another walked round her; one gentleman 
 poked her with his cane ; and one lady employed her parasol to 
 ascertain that all was, as she called it, " nattral." This inhuman 
 baiting the poor creature bore with sullen indifference, except 
 upon some great provocation, when she seemed inclined to re- 
 sent brutality, which even a Hottentot can understand. On 
 these occasions it required all the authority of the keeper to 
 subdue her resentment. At last her civilized visitors departed^ 
 and, to Mr. Mathews's great surprise and pleasure, JohnKemble 
 entered the room. As he did so he paused at the door, with 
 his eyes fixed upon the object of his visit, and advancing slowly 
 to obtain a closer view, without speaking to my husband, he 
 gazed at the woman, with his under-lip dropped for a minute. 
 His beautiful countenance then underwent a sudden change, and 
 at length softened almost into tears of compassion. 
 
 " Poor, poor creature !" at length he uttered in his peculiar 
 tone, — " very, very extraordinary, indeed !" He then shook 
 hands silently with Mr. Mathews, keeping his eyes still upon 
 the object before him. He minutely questioned the man about 
 the state of mind, disposition, comfort, &c. of the Hottentot, 
 and again exclaimed, with an expression of the deepest pity, 
 *'Poor creature!" 
 
 I have observed that at the time Mr. Mathews entered and 
 found her surrounded by some of our own barbarians, the coun- 
 tenance of the " Venus" exhibited the most sullen and occa- 
 
 c 
 
386 THE LIFE AND COKRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 sionally ferocious expression ; but the moment she looked in Mr. 
 Kemble's face, her own became placid and mild — nay, she was 
 obviously pleased ; and patting her hands together, and holding 
 them up in evident admiration, uttered the unintelligible words, 
 *'0h, ma Babba! Oh, ma Babba !" gazing at the face of the 
 tragedian with unequivocal delight. " What does she say, sir ?" 
 asked Mr. Kemble, gravely, of the keeper, as the woman reite- 
 rated these strange words ; " does she call me her papa ?" "No, 
 sir," answered the man ; " she says you are a very fine man." 
 " Upon my word, said Kemble, drily, with an inclination of his 
 head, as he took a pinch of snuff for the first time since he 
 entered, which he had held betwixt his finger and thumb 
 during his suspended admiration and surprise — " upon my word, 
 the lady does me infinite honour!" Whether his fine face in 
 reality struck the fancy of the lady, or whether Mr. Kemble's 
 pitying tones and considerate forbearance of the usual ceremo- 
 nies, reached her heart, it is certain that she was much pleased 
 with him. The keeper invited him once more to touch the 
 poor woman, a privilege allowed on more liberal terms than in 
 the case of Miss Crackham, as it was without additional fee. 
 Mr. Kemble again declined the offer, retreating, and again ex- 
 claiming in tones of the most humane feeling, " No, no, poor 
 creature, no !" And the two actors went away together, Mr. 
 Kemble observing, when they reached the street, " Now, 
 Mathews, my good fellow, do you know this is a sight which 
 makes me melancholy. I dare say, now, they ill-use that poor 
 creature! Good God! how very shocking!" And away he 
 stalked, as if musing, and totally forgetting his companion until 
 the moment of separation recalled his recollection. 
 
 About this period, these friends had been dining together at 
 Mr. Charles Kemble's house. Mr, John Kemble had taken much 
 wine, and when the party broke up, Mr. Mathews determined to 
 accompany the tragedian to his own door. Giving him his arm, 
 therefore, they proceeded slowly to Mr. Kemble's house in Great 
 Bussell-street, Bloomsbury. The tragedian was full of talk, and 
 *' very happy," as it is called ; and although the hour was late, 
 his pressing invitation to his friend to enter the house with him, 
 induced my husband to obey. It was evident that the man who 
 opened the door was the only person who remained up in the 
 establishment. Mr. Kemble went into his library, accompanied 
 by Mr. Mathews, and desired the attendant to bring a tray, at 
 the same time, with great formality, introducing him to the 
 notice of his guest as the "gentleman who did him the honour 
 
CHAKLES MATHEWS. 387 
 
 to take care of his wine," &c. It was in vain that Mr. Mathews 
 protested against further hospitahty. Mr. Kemble was too much 
 excited to have his spirit easily laid, and, surrounded as he was 
 with books, he began a disquisition upon their authors, above all, 
 his " belov-ed Shakspeare!" on whom he discoursed most elo- 
 quently, after taking a volume from the shelf, and devoutly 
 kissing the binding. At length the tray was brought in with 
 wine and water, &c., and with it entered an enormous cat, deco- 
 rated with a red collar and a bell. The appearance of his favourite 
 cat called forth its master's most affectionate notice, and many 
 relations of its extraordinary powers of understanding, its devoted 
 attachment to its master's person, &c., were detailed to Mr. 
 Mathews. Mustapha, Mr. Kemble declared, had much of human 
 feeling of the best kind in his composition ; he described how he 
 watched his return home, mourned his absence, &c., and grew 
 maudlin in its praise. The animal seemed, indeed, happy in its 
 master's presence, and it looked up in his face as it composedly 
 lay down before him. Mr. Mathews mewed ; Mr. Kemble, 
 turning round at this sound, which he believed to proceed from 
 the cat, observed, " There, my dear Mathews, do you hear that ? 
 Now, that creature knows all I say of him, and is replying to 
 it." This amused my husband, and he repeated the experiment 
 in all the varieties of feline intonation, mewing, purring, &c. 
 Mr. Kemble at last said to him, in his slow and measured tones, 
 " Now, you don't know what he means by that, but I do. 
 Mus ! — Mus !" (on every reiteration of this affectionate dimi- 
 nutive, raising his voice to its most tragic expression, of tender- 
 ness) — "umph! My dear sir, that creature knows that it is 
 beyond my usual time of sitting up, and he's uneasy ! Mus ! 
 Mus !" But Mus was sleepy and inattentive, and his master 
 resumed his criticisms upon the different readings of Shakspeare, 
 talked also of Lope de Vega, and was again interrupted by a mew, 
 as he believed, from the dissatisfied Mus. " What," asked his fond 
 master, looking down upon him, "what is it you desire, my good 
 friend ?" (Mus, alias Mathews, mewed once more, in a more 
 supplicating and more touching tone.) " Well, well ! I under- 
 stand you : you want to go to bed. Well, I suppose I must 
 indulge you." Here Mr. Kemble dehberately arose, put down 
 his book upon the table, with its face open at the page to which 
 he had referred, took a measured pinch of snuff*, and somewhat 
 tottered to the door, which he with difficulty opened. He then 
 awaited Mustapha's exit, but Mustapha having no voice in the 
 aff'air, preferred remaining where he was ; and his master kindly 
 
 c c 2 
 
388 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 reproached him with being a "little capricious in first asking to go, 
 and then preferring to stay." With a smile and look at my husband 
 of the gentlest indulgence towards his favourite's humour, he" 
 tottered back again to his chair, resumed his declamatory obser- 
 vations upon the relative powers of dramatic writers and their 
 essential requisites, till the troublesome Mustapha again renewed 
 his mewing solicitations. Mr. Kemble once more stopped, and 
 looking again at the imaginary cause of his interruption with 
 philosophic patience, asked, " Well, Mus, what would you 
 have?" Then, after another pause, turning to his guest, said: 
 " Now, my dear Mathews, you are fond of animals, and ought 
 to know this one ; he's a perfect character for you to study. 
 Now, sir, that cat knows that I shall be ill to-morrow, and he's 
 uneasy at my sitting up." Then benevolently looking at the 
 cat, added, " Umph ! my dear Mus. I must beg your indul- 
 gence, my good friend; I really csm-not go to bed yet." Mus 
 whined his reply, and his master declared that the cat asked to 
 be allowed to go away. On the door being a second time 
 opened, after similar exertion on Mr. Kemble's part to effect 
 this courtesy, and several grave chirpings in order to entice Mus 
 from the fire-place, the animal at length left the room. Mr. 
 Kemble then returned, as before, to his seat, drank another glass 
 of wine and water, and, just as he was comfortably re-established, 
 the incorrigible Mus. was heard in the passage again, in loud 
 lament, and importunate demand for re-admittance. " Umph !" 
 said Mr. Kemble, with another pinch of snuff — "now, that 
 animal, sir, is not happy, after all, away from me." (Mus was 
 louder than ever at this moment.) " Why, what ails the 
 creature ? Surely there is more in this than we dream of, 
 Mathews. You, who have studied such beings, ought to be 
 able to explain." Poor Mus made another pathetic appeal for 
 re-admission, and his master's heart was not made of flint. Mr. 
 Kemble apologized to his guest for these repeated interruptions, 
 and managed once more to make his way to the door. After 
 opening it, and waiting a minute for the re-entrance of his 
 favourite, but not seeing it, he smiled at my husband with the 
 same indulgent expression as before, and remarked, " Now, would 
 you believe it, Mathews, that extraordinary animal was affronted 
 at not being let in again on his first appeal ? — and now it is his 
 humour not to come at all ! Mus ! — Mustapha ! — Mus !" But 
 as no Mus appeared, the door was closed with the same delibera- 
 tion, and Mr. Kemble once more contrived to regain his chair, 
 and recommenced his comments, quite unobservant of the almost 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. o89 
 
 hysterical fit of laughter to which my husband was by this time 
 reduced at the imposition he had so successfully, though in the 
 first place so unintentionally, practised upon the credulity of his 
 grave and unsuspecting friend. But it did not end here, for 
 Mr. Mathews reiterated his imitations, and Mr. Kemble again 
 remarked upon his favourite's peculiarities of temper, &c. Again 
 he went to the door, again returned, till even " Mr, Midnight" 
 (as some friends of ours christened Mr. Mathews, from his love 
 of late hours) felt it time to retire, and leave Mr. Kemble, which 
 he did as he saw him fall asleep, in the act of representing his 
 idea of the scene of the sick king in Henry IV., with his pocket- 
 handkerchief spread over his head as a substitute for the charac- 
 teristic drapery of the dying monarch. 
 
 Feeling the effects of his most serious accident of 1814 in- 
 creasing, and doubtless other undisclosed sufferings which his 
 death revealed, Mr. Mathews became restless for the last ten 
 years to obtain the means of retirement and repose. His total 
 want of head for the business of life laid him open to every 
 specious adviser that came in his way, and about the year 1824, 
 as I have before stated, he was persuaded by interested persons, 
 under the show of a pure wish to serve him, to sink a large sum 
 in one of the bubble companies. Of course he lost the whole of 
 his venture. Still he listened to the next tempter, and again 
 and again his losses were immense and calamitous in their con- 
 sequences. 
 
 I was consulted upon these speculations, and strenuously urged 
 him not to enter into them, when tears would gush from his 
 eyes, and in a tone which reached my heart, he would say, " If 
 you knew what I suffer from my exertions, you would not 
 scruple at any honest means by which I can make a short road 
 to rest." Yet his mercurial temperament would soon after 
 induce me to view his words more as the feeling of the minute 
 than as coming from any serious cause. I knew, indeed, that he 
 suffered at times severely from his lameness, but I also knew 
 that a sedentary life, or one of entire leisure, was not such as 
 would produce him mental ease or bodily repose. Action was 
 the soul of his existence. He generally acknowledged this, though 
 sometimes he tried to deceive himself into an opposite belief. 
 Alas! I now see that at those moments his convictions were 
 strongest that his constitution would not long admit of such 
 exertions ; and kindly concealins: from me his internal warnings 
 (perhaps not all at once of a definite character), he only laid a 
 stress upon the apparent cause — his lameness; and this plea pre- 
 vailed when he put it forward with so much earnestness. 
 
39 THE LIFE AND COERESPONDENCE OF 
 
 A judicious friend at this period induced him to resign his 
 cottage and reside in London for a few years, in order to retrieve 
 the sad effects of former bad advice, and the calamitous results 
 of money given and lent to the imgrateful and dishonest, in addi- 
 tion to sums swallowed up in Companies, into which he ought 
 never to have been introduced. His share of the Adelphi 
 Theatre property was, with his future exertions, all that was left 
 to him, with a drawback occasioned by the last of his specula- 
 tions in the following shape. The tradesmen employed in this 
 failing concern commenced actions for their several outlays and 
 work, and of course proceeded against the moneyed portion of 
 the partners and shareholders for remuneration. The unfortu- 
 nate fallacy of Mr. Mathews's great riches prompted an action 
 against him to the amount of thirty thousand pounds ; and 
 though this ruinous proceeding was partly averted by the exer- 
 tions of a personal and legal friend of my husband, the alterna- 
 tive was a compromise almost as fearful, because it was indefinite. 
 The money was claimed of Mr. Mathews by uncertain instal- 
 ments at unexpected periods, thus placing him in the position of 
 a person liable to suffer one day the loss of a single hair, plucked 
 hastily from his head, and another day two or three more, each 
 bringing tears into his eyes, and sometimes making him wish 
 he had suffered the less teasing operation of losing the wIioIq 
 at once. 
 
 In consequence of all these harassing and accumulated evils^ 
 Mr. Mathews began this year with a great struggle between 
 inclination and duty, but, as in most cases where my husband 
 had to decide, the latter triumphed. By his repeated and serious 
 losses and speculations entered into with a hope of what he felt 
 must soon be necessary to him — namely, repose from professional 
 exertion — his income was so much lessened, that to continue his 
 present style of living was out of the question. The cottage and 
 grounds required keeping up — no inconsiderable part of the cost 
 of a place of this kind, and the number of servants requisite, with 
 horses, carriage, &c., rendered a longer possession of this prized 
 abode a matter of concern far outweighing its advantages. The 
 first and greatest difficulty was the destination of the pictures. 
 Where could they be placed without injury ? and what London 
 house could hold them advantageously ? His friends being con- 
 sulted, advised their sale. This was a blow to my husband's 
 happiness even beyond the separation from his darling cottage. 
 The thought upset all his fortitude. However, he paused before 
 he decided. He then asked who would be the purchaser ? " The 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 391 
 
 Garrick Club ought," it was said, " to have them." This sug- 
 gestion in a great measure reconciled him to the idea of parting 
 from them. To have them where he could look at them, and, 
 above all, see them kept as an unbroken collection, — this, indeed, 
 would comfort him under a separation. The Club, however, 
 offered so .small a sum for the gallery, which had cost Mr. 
 Mathews so much labour and care to collect (about one-fifth of 
 what was originally given for them, without reckoning the inte- 
 rest of money for so many years), that the idea of parting with 
 them was wholly given up. At length, after much persuasion 
 arid struggle against his own feelings, he consented to have them 
 exhibited, not so much with a hope of gain from such exhibition, 
 as with a view to their present safety and ultimate sale. Well, 
 indeed, was it that no pecuniary feeling urged their removal, for 
 when the accounts of the exhibition were closed at the end of the 
 period they were before the public, it was found that the loss 
 exceeded a hundred and fifty pounds! The gallery, which 
 ostensibly drew such numbers to our house, while as many more 
 were denied admittance year after year, without the presence of 
 its proprietor, was not found worth one shilling cost to behold ! 
 For so it may be presumed, reckoning the average of chance 
 persons with those who for more than twenty years applied for 
 admission, and were refused, parties often presenting themselves 
 at the gate of the cottage, and almost forcing themselves in. 
 Had we yielded, indeed, to every application of this kind, we 
 should not have had an hour in the day free from intrusion ; as 
 it was, but few were allowed to us. So many came, whom to 
 reject would have been personally mortifying to us, that our 
 peaceful retreat was converted almost into a fatigue to us, too 
 often having all the character of a show-place, (from which I 
 pray Heaven to defend me !) where we lived more for others than 
 for ourselves. 
 
 Well, we turned our backs upon our earthly paradise, " the 
 world before us," but not " where to choose." However, I found 
 a residence so constructed that my husband's objections were 
 consulted, although his taste could not, for it was in London. 
 In fact, he had what he stipulated for, namely, a house within a 
 certain distance of the clubs and the theatre, which he could 
 reach by means of by -streets, with its principal rooms situated 
 at the back, away from the street. I found these at 101, Great 
 Russell-street, Bloomsbury, looking upon a green plot of level 
 ground of about a hundred feet long, with trees on either side, 
 and a terrace before the windows for flowers and shrubs. As he 
 
892 THE LIFE AND CORKESPONDENCE OF 
 
 also stipulated not to live in a fashionable street, where he might 
 be "stared at," his exits and entrances (to speak theatrically) 
 were not marked and remarked by unoccupied neighbours, for 
 he was shy even at a head peeping over an opposite blind at 
 him as he got into his carriage.* Thus all was arranged ; and 
 though it was touching to see my husband's parting look at the 
 place we had made, as he rode out at the gate for the last time, 
 he manfully bore up, for a short period, against his change of 
 residence and habits. I proposed to resign tlie chariot in favour 
 of a cabriolet, in which we could seek the air together; and 
 this pleased him, for he hated a close carriage. But his health 
 now became visibly impaired, and his spirits, in spite of every 
 effort, declined also. Still I was unsuspicious of any constitu- 
 tional or deeply-seated disorder. 
 
 It was about this period that the idea of writing his Life 
 was first seriously entertained. I had suggested to him that a 
 pursuit of such a nature would act in a salutary manner upon 
 his mind and health under present circumstances, by rousing 
 his energies to exertion, at the same time by diverting him from 
 thoughts not wholesome to dwell upon, while he would in effect 
 be realizing a sum of money by his employment that would 
 ultimately reward his labour. To these and similar suggestions 
 my husband at length yielded his serious consideration ; and, 
 . without premeditation or plan, began the autobiography with 
 which the present memoirs commence. He proceeded at first 
 rapidly to relate what his memory supplied. The occupation 
 seemed to afford him enjoyment, but his alacrity did not last ; 
 his undertaking flagged from his utter want of power to devote 
 himself long enough and often enough to make the desired pro- 
 gress. I have seen him, as I left the room, established at his 
 writing-table, pursuing his purpose with apparent dihgence and 
 spirit ; and on my return, a quarter of an hour afterwards, have 
 found him asleep in his chair. He would afterwards tell me, 
 and sometimes with tears, that he found himself unable to keep 
 awake, for that a lethargic stupor crept over him the moment 
 he began to write or read, which he could not resist long at a 
 time.f 
 
 * It had been the custom at the Cottage for one of the servants always to 
 watch, while the carriage waited at the gate, to apprize him of the moment 
 when he might enter it unseen by any passers by : his pony he always mounted 
 and dismounted in the stable-yard. 
 
 + This creeping lethargy attended him until the severest part of his fatal 
 illness commenced. 
 
m^ MATmmw^ 
 
 072^!^^^ .J"^ ^4^;'ZA^,y^^?f9i^ di>?t/ ^^^<#^Kiz/..^:Ji^>^ -^ .^^aJ^<:y:^U^ 
 
 T)„..i'- J j.._ 
 
CHAELES MATHEWS. 393 
 
 Such was always the result of his endeavours to proceed with 
 his task, and hence the limited portion of manuscript found in 
 his handwriting on the subject. His memory was so all-suffi- 
 cient, that (unfortunately for this book) he felt no need of notes 
 or memoranda. He proceeded without blot or pause when he 
 did write, his I'ccollection furnishing a ready and, for the most 
 part, consecutive account of what, if it could have been com- 
 pleted by himself, would have been as valuable to his family as 
 entertaining to his readers. Alas ! the attempt was made too 
 late ; it could not be. 
 
 It will be seen, from the following communication to his 
 friend, Mr. Gyles, that he exerted himself to put a good face 
 upon present affairs, and was anxious not to confess the illness 
 from which I now know he suffered severely. The effects of this 
 illness, at the time, I ignorantly imputed to local and dispiriting 
 outward causes. 
 
 To S. B. Gyles, Esq, 
 
 101, Great Russell-street, April I7tli, 1833. 
 
 My dear Gyles, — " If this letter does not reach you until you begin 
 your study, I cannot expect an answer." I have taken advantage of 
 this, as you have found out ; but, what think you, in addition to this 
 excellent excuse, of having undergone all the horrors of moving ? Yes, 
 and here I am. Cottage gone; pictures in London, and on the point 
 of being exhibited. Multiim in parvo. The why and wherefore may 
 be matter of future information. Suffice it to say, I had excellent 
 reasons for removal. I am in excellent health ; but my lower man is 
 much damaged from that doff-ged accident. M}^ ankle still weak, and 
 back twisted. I should have opened with, I think, another good enter- 
 tainment on Monday, but the epidemic, of which I suppose you have 
 heard by this time, is a panic with a vengeance — worse than cholera, 
 though not so fatal. You would not have heard from me until my 
 launch, if it had not been for the death of Lord Foley, who, they say, 
 died of this disorder. If so, this is the only fatal instance. I dined in 
 company with him a fortnight ago, at Lord Harrington's, and he 
 appeared to me to be well. I thought it possible you might not hear 
 of it, if you do not make a greater point than you used of seeing papers. 
 Imagining it might be possible that this intelligence might be im- 
 portant, I therefore determined to give you this notice. He only died 
 yesterday. I will write a longer letter soon ; indeed I will. Our loves 
 to you all, and ever thine, 
 
 Matty. 
 
 In May the collection of theatrical pictures was opened to 
 public view at the Queen's Bazaar, in Oxford-street. Charles 
 hastily made out a catalogue, and, without the owner's inter- 
 ference, all was arranged to his approval. The number of pic- 
 
894) THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 tures amounted to nearly four hundred. Some idea of the quality 
 of this exhibition may be formed by the following notice : — 
 
 As a collection of pictures it is not, generally speaking, of the first 
 — of the very first class ; but, as an illustration of Britain's his- 
 trionic history during, perhaps, one of the brightest periods that ever 
 beamed upon the land, it is unexampled, and utterly impossible to be 
 excelled. " There hang the players in their single persons" (we quote an 
 essay, " The old actors," by the exquisite Elia, prefixed to the cata- 
 logue raisonnee of the gallery), " and, in grouped scenes from the 
 Eestoration — Booths, Quins, Garricks, justifying the prejudices which 
 we entertain for them ; the Bracegirdles, the Grwynnes, and the Oldfields, 
 fresh as Gibber has described them ! the Wofiington (a true Hogarth) 
 upon a couch, dallying and dangerous. The screen scene in Brinsley's 
 famous comedy, with Smith, and Mrs. Abing^don, whom I have not 
 seen, — and the rest — whom, having seen, I still see there. There is 
 Henderson, unrivalled in Oomus,\v\\ova. I saw at second-hand in Harley; 
 Harley, the rival of Holman, in Horatio ; Holman, with the bright 
 glittering teeth, in Lothario ; and the paviour sighs in Romeo, the 
 jolliest person (' our son is fat') of any Hamlet I have yet seen, with 
 the most laudable attempts (for a personable man) at looking melan- 
 choly ; and Pope, the abdicated monarch of tragedy and comedy, in 
 Henry the Eighth and Lord Townley. There hang the two Aickins, 
 brethren in mediocrity. Broughton, who in ^*7e/y seemed to have for- 
 gotten that in prouder days he personated Alexander. The specious 
 form of John Palmer, with the especial effrontery of Bohhy. Bensley, 
 with the trumpet tongue ; and little Quick (the retired Dioclesian of 
 Islington), with his squeak like a Bartlemy fiddle." The essay con- 
 tinues in this strain of babbling beauty for some sentences ; we can, 
 however, only quote the conclusion. 
 
 "There are the two Bannisters, and Incledon, and Kelly, and 
 Diguum (Diggy), and the by-gone features of Mrs. Ward, matchless 
 in Lady Loverule; and the collective majesty of the whole Kemble 
 family; and (Shakspeare's woman) Dora Jordan; and by her two 
 antics, who in former and latter days, have chiefly beguiled us from our 
 griefs— Suett and Munden." 
 
 The gallery, as a theatrical collection, is unique, unexampled, and in- 
 capable of being excelled. The pictures, as works of art, painted by 
 various artists, and at different times, must of necessity be unequal ; 
 they are so. But, then, it is not as works of art that we go to gloat 
 over them : it is to revive the recollections, mayhap of experience, may- 
 hap of reading, and to live in the excellencies of the past, unheeding and 
 uncaring for the present. It is right to observe, however, that there 
 are among them also several pictures of first-rate merit. We would 
 especially particularize " Meg Woffington, lying on a couch, dallying 
 and dangerous," as the delightful Elia has described her; George 
 Frederick Cooke; Eleanor Gwynne, the "Mistress Nelly" of the mob 
 in the dissolute days of Charles ; Mrs. Abingdon, as Lady Bah Lar' 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 3^5 
 
 doon, in the Maid of Oaks ; Spranger Barry ; David Garrick, " Little 
 Davy," as Dr. Johnson was wont familiarly, more than welcomely, to 
 style him ; Mrs. Bracegirdle ; Mrs. Oldfield ; Mrs. Catherine Clive ; 
 Mrs. Robinson — poor Mrs. Robinson ! Miss O'Neill, the chaste, the 
 virtuous ; Joseph Munden, " the droll ;" Michael Kelly — here be his 
 " Reminiscences" indeed ; and, finally, for the present, Charles Mathews, 
 the founder of the feast, " mine host of Highgate," with this admirable 
 addenda to the brief notice of his name in the catalogue. 
 On their own merits modest men are dumb. 
 
 The portraits by ZofFany are certainly the best, though there are 
 many by the veteran De Wilde, full of character and identity. It is 
 curious to contrast the peculiarities of the olden actors with the general 
 common-place air of contemporary players. There is nothing so sleek, 
 so unctuous as Suett ; — Harley, for instance, has a 5 per cent. 20,000^. 
 look — he might pass for a successful linendraper. He has no touch of 
 the picturesque vagabondism of Weston and the immortal Dicky. 
 Farren, too, who keeps a green carriage and footman, wants the oily 
 coziness of rare old Quick. Then, there is Macready; put him beside 
 George Cooke, and compared to the consumer of brandy, he has the 
 staid, severe air of a rich dissenting preacher. Dowton maintains some- 
 thing of the olden time ; he looks and speaks as though he had acted 
 with the Jordans and the Lewises. 
 
 This collection presents a good history of the stage, told alike by 
 beautiful and curious faces. We read the history of the players, of the 
 people who chatted with Dryden, and who took directions from Gold- 
 smith (it may be in his immortal peach-coloured coat) ; of the fair eyes 
 tbat captivated kings ; of the white brows that gave a lustre to a 
 coronet. There is beauty of every kind, from the quick, kind-hearted 
 eyes of Nell Gwynne to the soft, languishing gaze of Maria Dar- 
 lington.* 
 
 The catalogue has been drawn up by Mr. Mathews, jun., with great 
 skill, care, and judgment. It is copious and well- arranged, which is 
 not the least part of the treat. 
 
 Mr. Mathews was present at the Covent-garden Theatrical 
 Fund dinner this year, and in the course of the evening sang a 
 song from his forthcoming entertainment, descriptive of an 
 election, in which he gave a humorous imitation of " glorious 
 Dan," whose actions and grimaces on the occasion of his speech 
 on the night the House divided after the adjourned debate on 
 the Irish Coercion Bill, he admirably imitated. The pulling 
 about and adjusting the wig, the loosening of the neckirchief, 
 and the divesting himself of that incumbrance, he ludicrously 
 caricatured. The song was rapturously applauded. 
 
 * Miss Foote, the present Countess of Harrington ; Maria Darlmgton was 
 one of the characters in which she was particularly admired. 
 
896 THE LIFE AND COKRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 Mr. Mathews coramenced anotlier " At Home," at the Adelphi 
 Theatre, on the 29th April, with the Fourth Volume of his 
 Comic Annual for the year 1833.* 
 
 The following was the announcement of this entertainment :— 
 
 PAET THE FIEST. 
 
 This page — address to the House. — Contrasted Characters. — Messrs. 
 Verjuice and Honey. — The Sun in London — cause of its obscurity. 
 
 Chant — Modern Innovations. 
 
 Private Miseries of a Dramatic Writer. — Mr. Eigmarole. — Inter- 
 rupted Composition. — Melodrama muddled. — Mr. Josephus Jollyfat, a 
 gastronomer astronomer. — Lecture on the Solar System to his Nephew, 
 and directions for Dinner to his Cook. 
 
 Song — A Christening in Aldermanbury. 
 
 EMBELLISHMENT. 
 
 Waiting for a Newspaper. — Scene, a coffee-room. 
 
 Dramatis Personce. 
 
 Mr. Tortoise, with the Times. — Mr. Martin Swift, waiting for the 
 paper. — Schmidt, German waiter. 
 
 PAET THE SECOND. 
 
 Embellished half-length of a Lady. — Mrs. Digby Jones. — Conver- 
 sazione. — Malapropriation of scientific words. — Visit to the Bank. — 
 Cheapside in an uproar. — Police Report, abridged and described in 
 
 Song — A 3fansion Souse. 
 
 Simplicity of the English Language. — Monsieur Ventriloque's defi- 
 nition of the word " Box," twenty significations. 
 
 Song — Street Melodists (a medley). 
 
 Josephus Jollyfat (a sketch in water-colours). — Sir Charles Prim- 
 tattle. — Water drinking. — Establishment of a Temperance Society. — 
 Effects of Mr. Cooper's wonderful Hydro-oxygen Microscope (with 
 Jollyfat's accurate drawings from living objects). — The Water-tiger and 
 other aquatic monsters of the Deep (ditch). — New Writs.— Visit to the 
 Hustings. 
 
 Song — A General Election. 
 
 * The jomt production of Messrs. R. B. Peake and Charles J. Mathews. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 3^7 
 
 PAKT THE THIED. 
 
 A Monopolylogue, to be called the 
 
 COACH-WHEEL OFF. 
 
 Dramatis personcB, enacted by Mr. Matheios : 
 
 Colonel Catarrh, from Calcutta Cold. 
 
 Miss Violet Catarrh ......... Warm. 
 
 Crrumpy coachman to the Colonel LuJce-warm. 
 
 Simon Sparks, a blacksmith Blazing. 
 
 Ensign Fitzmarigold MacMllady .... Red-hot. 
 
 Living adjuncts. — A pair of coach horses and a cockatoo, &c. &c. &c. 
 
398 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXIX. 
 
 Mr. Mathews's visit to Mr. Eaton— His dislike of transacting business — His 
 illness — His visits to the Zoological Gardens — His fondness for Brighton — 
 Letter to Mrs. Mathews — Effect on Mr. Mathews of an inattentive auditor : 
 anecdote — Letters to Mrs. Mathews — Mr. Mathews anticipation as to his 
 biographer — Letter to Mrs. Mathews : dreary accident on Salisbury Plain 
 —Fatality attending Mr. Mathews's movements from home. 
 
 I iNDrcED my husband at the beginning of July to visit Mr. 
 Eaton, of Stetchworth Park, near Newmarket ; for I thought 
 I saw him languishing for country air. There he was detained 
 by an attack of illness, ascribed to any but the real cause. Upon 
 this occasion he thus wrote to me : — 
 
 " I must tell you my situation. On getting out of bed yesterday I 
 found myself quite helpless with weakness in my loins, which Mr. 
 Eaton pronounces lumbago ; however, I could not walk, or stir out of 
 the house. I am not any better to-day, as I can only move with the 
 assistance of two crutch sticks, and cannot attempt to stand upright. 
 If I am not at home on Sunday before six o'clock, write a note to Lord 
 Harrington, and explain my case." 
 
 Alas! his "case" was then, fortunately perhaps for those who 
 loved him, inexplicable; but each attack was, as I now know, 
 but a gradual step nearer to its final development. He adds, 
 characteristically, — 
 
 ** I came off, as usual, without enough money for ray journey here 
 and back, and never thought about it till to-day. I believe the smallest 
 note now is five pounds, so you must send me one by return." 
 
 I have often thought that the very touch of coin was dis- 
 agreeable to him. He would be weeks together without money 
 in his pocket, such a reluctance had he to its use. He never 
 paid his inn bills in travelling when he had anybody with him 
 who could settle them, either from dislike of transacting busi- 
 ness (which was indisputable), or the bows and courtesies which 
 attended such transactions. Antipathy to both these ceremo- 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 399 
 
 nies made him what is called sneak out of the inn ahout ten 
 minutes before closing accounts, and walk onward that the 
 carriage might overtake and receive him out of the town, by 
 which he escaped all staring, and the eclat of leave-taking. 
 
 On his apparent restoration to his usual state of health, he 
 returned home from Mr. Eaton's, tolerably tranquil; but the 
 worm that had preyed upon him unseen, though not unfelt, 
 made fatal ravages upon him from the moment his spirits had 
 ceased to struggle against it, and when the motive for exercise 
 and causes of cheerfulness were removed. In London his spa- 
 cious and really gay-looking rooms appeared to him little less 
 than a dreary prison.* His resource was the Zoological Gardens, 
 where he was sometimes joined by Mr. Henry Alexander, the 
 celebrated occulist, to whom he was very partial. There he 
 would drive on the days he performed, as soon as he had break- 
 fasted, and sit and saunter alternately about the walks, diverted 
 from his sorrowful reflections by the variety of animals and 
 birds, of all of which he was so fond. His looks suffered ; yet 
 as he never spoke of bodily pain further than in relation to his 
 injured hip, I ascribed the change to his natural discontent at a 
 London residence. I pressed him, as often as circumstances 
 would admit, to pay short visits to Brighton, which, next to 
 rural joys, was his favourite scene of recreation. The sea, 
 whether at it, or on it, or in it, was to him a delightful element. 
 He would sit whole days upon the beach or sands watching its 
 motion, and taking an absorbing interest in every distant speck 
 he saw floating. Brighton, moreover, contained several friends 
 to whom he always felt an unvarying attachment. Mr. Horatio 
 Smith, whose addresses were never rejected when he courted 
 Mr. Mathews's presence at his delightful house, where, whether 
 seated amidst its amiable domestic circle, or in a more extended 
 society, my husband found himself truly happy. Other friends, 
 Mr. Lawrence the surgeon, Mr. Masquerier, and many agreeable 
 guests, met at the houses of these gentlemen, and contributed 
 to complete the charm and attraction which Brighton invariably 
 possessed for him. Mr. Mathews was a great admirer, too, of 
 the Rev. Mr. Anderson, socially and professionally, and always 
 spoke of him and of his preaching with enthusiasm. But for 
 these pleasurable resources from time to time, I know not how 
 his spirits could have been sustained under the pressing weight 
 of his disappointments and unacknowledged bodily infirmities. 
 
 * In a letter to Mr. Harding he dates from " Great Coffin Street !" but he 
 never betrayed to me his impressions to this extent. 
 
400 THE LIFE AND COKRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Worthing, August 20tli, 1833. 
 
 All is going on prosperously, and I can but report good progress. It 
 is highly gratifying that, amidst the wreck and ruin of theatres, I am 
 still fresh with the upper ranks. This theatre opened in July, and 
 closed for a time, from entire desertion. The town is unusually empty. 
 I have got a hotel to myself, and the inhabitants talk of being ruined, 
 if September does not pull them up. Notwithstanding this, and the 
 disheartening reports of " I am afraid Worthing won't answer your 
 purpose," &c. I found every seat in the boxes taken, and I got 22Z. for 
 three hours' easy work, to a delightfully merry set. I call it easy, when 
 they roar as they did. You cannot estimate the greatness of this 
 success, small as the sum shows. I have already got what Arnold 
 would have given me for a fortnight. 
 
 I feel much for you, now dear Charley is gone (love to him when you 
 write), and wish you were with me. If you think a change of air 
 would benefit your health, I would recommend you to join me; but you 
 best know how far it would be advisable. If you would really like it, 
 and dislike your solitude enough to embark in such an adventure, I shall 
 be delighted ; — write and say. I must return home before I make my 
 " grand tower." 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 It was quite extraordinary how much his spirits, while per- 
 forming, were affected by the discovery of any inattention, how- 
 ever partial, in his audience : his eye always caught a view of a 
 careless observer, or a sluggish listener. Like Haman the 
 Agagite, who, " in the glory of his riches, and the multitude of 
 his children," — in the midst of universal homage and honours, 
 confessed himself dissatisfied. " Yet all this availeth me no- 
 thing," said he, " so long as I see Mordecai the Jew sitting at 
 the king's gate." These were the words of this ambitious 
 minister. My husband was equally discontented, though re* 
 ceiving the applause and praise of assembled thousands, if he 
 saw but one man seated before him who " bowed not nor did 
 him reverence." Unlike Haman, however, he did not "scorn," 
 in this case, " to lay hands on Mordecai alone," and take personal 
 vengeance on one who " stood not up nor was moved for him." 
 
 It happened that one night of his " At Home," soon after he 
 began his entertainment, he observed in the second row of the 
 pit a heavy-looking man fast asleep. From that moment he 
 seemed to forget the rest of his audience, and this man became 
 his " peculiar care" — his Mordecai ; and the homage of the whole 
 theatre besides was nothing to him while this one man stooped 
 not to acknowledge his power. Still he proceeded, and with his 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 401 
 
 usual effects ; but no laughing, no clapping of hands, disturbed 
 the sleeper. Thunders of applause had no effect in rousing this 
 lethargic nuisance. The performer began to flag in his exertions : 
 he gazed on Mordecai, " sighed and looked, looked and sighed, 
 sighed and looked and sighed again," but all in vain; and soon 
 the audience began to observe where and to whom his anxious 
 eyes were directed, and joined gradually in the interest he felt 
 in the sluggard. At last, Mr. Mathews, full of his determined 
 revenge, took occasion from some favourable portion of one of 
 his subjects to utter a loud " hem !" so sharp and startling in its 
 tone, that the drowsy pittite shook himself from his rosy slum- 
 bers. Staring about in a bewildered manner for a minute, he 
 raised his still sleepy eyes upon the performer, who, seizing his 
 advantage, fixed him with the power of a basilisk, and from that 
 instant played at him, and addressed every point to him, until by 
 degrees he entirely awakened this first of the Seven Sleepers, who, 
 before the evening was over, became not only one of the most 
 attentive of the auditors, but the most lively amongst them. 
 
 To Mrs. Matketvs. 
 
 Hyde, August 28tb, 18—. 
 Well ! — and I have cleared more here than in any place since I have 
 been out, though the smallest theatre I ever acted in ; it is reputed not 
 to hold 50/. I had 43/. without a gallery, I may say, which is large in 
 proportion to the pit, and was nearly empty. The pit only holds 81., 
 and the boxes positively overflowed. Delightful merry set, and the 
 
 sensation peculiar as to exultation over S .* Many even of his 
 
 followers attended, who dare not attend the theatre before he drove the 
 players away. It has ended in petitions for a second night. I have at 
 length complied, which is one cause for my delay ; very many places 
 are already let. Huzza ! Nuts ! I perform at Gosport to-night. It 
 is all beauty here. We see Portsmouth, and the wide " salt-sea ocean " 
 from every window in this house. " Beauty weather," and I am going 
 to 'bark in " stim''-hoa,L 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 Ryde, August 30th. 
 At the time I was undecided about my return, I did not know whether 
 I should play here to-night or to-morrow. Julian Young also persuaded 
 me to try Andover. He was to meet me to-morrow seven miles from 
 Southampton, drive me to his parsonage, preach to me, and feed me on 
 Sunday. I cannot put him off, as my letter would not reach him till 
 Sunday, and he would crane his neck for me all day to-morrow ; so on 
 Monday, look for me. I expected very little at Gosport, but had a 
 
 * A clergyman who had been preaching against theatrical amuseanents, 
 
 D D 
 
402 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 better hit than at Portsmouth, which was bad, 321. — being one hundred 
 and eighty-five people in a room, very quiet. 
 
 I had at last, yesterday, my favourite project of a voyage round the 
 island, for which I longed so much last year. We started at ten o'clock, 
 and got back at five o'clock, having seen every inch of the shore. I saw 
 darling little Puckaster,* but none ot the inhabitants, which made me 
 feel melancholy. Milly Fozard, Miss Fro-zarde, or Fogard, or Fosset, 
 as she is called here, and one hundred and fifty others, accompanied me. 
 Too many ; but the day was so delightful, I forgot all annoyances. Sea 
 passengers have the best of it ; for there is nothing but brown green in 
 the island — all burned up. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Chichester, Thursday, 1833. 
 The races do not finish till to-morrow, but I mean to return according 
 to promise. I wish you would contrive to send to the boatman who 
 carried me to the steam-boat, to tell him to go off" to the same steamer, 
 which leaves Cowes between four and five o'clock to-morrow, Friday, 
 August 17th, so as to convey me to Holly Hill. I have already engaged 
 him for the job, but promised to give him notice of the day. Do not be 
 alarmed if he does not find me on board, as, with an excess of racing 
 population, the difficulties of getting hence may be great; therefore, if 
 I do not arrive, be sure that I am detained by circumstances over which 
 I have no control. I fell on my legs in coming. I was inquiring of the 
 captain of the steamer if I could get from Portsmouth in a boat to 
 Chichester, who had answered " No," wind and tide being both adverse. 
 This was overheard by Lord Uxbridge, who volunteered a seat in his 
 carriage, which, don't be astonished, I accepted, and he put me down at 
 my lodgings ! There ! I hung my head when the passengers assembled 
 to stare at my little boat, and sneaked on board ; in three seconds I was 
 surrounded by Sir William Curtis, Mr. Surman, Captain Gelstone, 
 Lord C. Manners, Lord Uxbridge, and Captain and Lady Agnes 
 Byng, &c. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 I have felt and scrupulously acted upon the feeling throughout 
 these pages, that the partialities and weaknesses of an over- 
 weening affection should meet no eyes but those to whom they 
 were originally addressed, unless occasionally, in trivial instances, 
 which served to reveal the writer's peculiar kindness of dispo- 
 sition. Yet, in the following letter there is a paragraph so 
 curious, as the event has fallen out, that, after some hesitation, I 
 have determined to allow it to remain. I solicit, however, the 
 reader's most favourable construction of this act, while I depre- 
 
 * The beautiful residence of our dear friends, Mr. and Mrs. Vine. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 403 
 
 cate the severity and " odious comparisons" likely to cross the 
 mind at the revelation of so partial a judgment. 
 
 The implied parallel between my weak powers and the giant 
 force of him referred to may reasonably expose me to ridicule, 
 unless judged with good nature, and the publication of it 
 ascribed to the sole motive of proving the remarkable fact that 
 my husband thought me the fittest person to assist him in the 
 task of writing his life — a fact I had totally forgotten till I 
 began to arrange his letters for my present purpose. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Worcester, Oct. 11, 1833. 
 
 Having now completed the aifair, I write, as you wished, to inform 
 you " how it answered." I have not one fault to find with the carriage. 
 It was put to the test by cross roads, perhaps the worst I shall encounter, 
 and nothing can run easier. It has all the effect in sound of the 
 lightest chaise. Not even a look at it from the innkeepers as to weight ; 
 and one horse from the inn at Banbury drew it to the theatre with 
 perfect ease. It is evidently, though out of the common way, not 
 remarkable enough to create a mob. Indeed, it was hardly looked at 
 in our exit from Banbury. I am sure you will be deli^'hted, as I wish 
 you to be, at this termination of your labours. " The Reverend" went 
 with me to Banbury ; and we had 4?. more than he said the theatre 
 would hold — namely, 21Z. 8*. It was crammed. The boxes hold 
 seventy people ; the gallery fifty ! ! 
 
 We dined at Doctor Rattray's on Tuesday. On my arrival here, 
 William Crisp would insist on my coming to his cot at St. John's ; 
 and here I am in a garden, and quite at my ease, which I could not be 
 at mine inn ; for they are coaching all day and night, and Mr. Dent, 
 my former host, is at Brighton. 
 
 If you do not tickle up my matter for me after I have put it down, 
 I will not continue my " Life." If you will, I go to work; and I am 
 sui*e you will be a Hook in my reminiscences.* Say you will ; I only 
 want this to take off my nervousness, and I'll write like wildfire. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 Could the self-depreciating writer of the above have been told 
 that his manuscript, then only begun, was destined never to be 
 finished by his own hand, how would he have been satisfied to 
 know that it was reserved for the person whose power he so 
 overrated to complete his undertaking, when " grief-shot,'* 
 mind weakened, and health enfeebled by his loss ! Could he 
 have anticipated that he to whom he alluded would at one time 
 meditate a continuance of his undertaking, and that eventually 
 the task would fall (literally fall) wholly into the unpractised, 
 
 * Mr. Theodore Hook edited Mr. Michael Kelly's " K«miniscences.'* 
 dd2 
 
401 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 unassisted hands of her he proposed should only aid his own 
 work — might he not, with all his partiality, have deplored that 
 he ever begun it ? 
 
 I have set down probably much that may, like the Scotch 
 lady's stor}'-, be condemned as " no worth the teUing," and be 
 rated with Gratiano's " infinite deal of nothing ;" yet, in relation 
 to personal peculiarities, trifling incidents sometimes materially 
 assist to dehneate character, as small touches of the pencil serve 
 to give force and finish to a likeness. My husband's friends saw 
 only detached portions of his character ; those alone who lived 
 with him could view the whole of its varieties : and in this 
 respect I possess an advantage. From long observation, I am 
 enabled to show every shade of his mind and disposition, though 
 perhaps not to give their just measure and value. This solitary 
 advantage over a more competent biographer is the chief recon- 
 cilement to my undertaking, and my feeble effort to support my 
 husband's fame and character. It will, I hope, act in a similar 
 way upon the public, before whom I have ventured, and for 
 which presumption not I, but circumstance, must be blamed. 
 
 My husband's next letter communicates one of those incidents 
 which it seemed his peculiar fate to experience. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Weymouth, November 6th, 1833. 
 
 What mystery is it that directs my destiny ? Am I reserved for 
 some remarkable close to my adventurous life, or am I to hope a calm 
 and quiet close to my chapter of accidents. That I am protected 
 amidst dangers I cannot mistake, nor can I help being bewildered with 
 the why do I meet with more buffets than any of my friends. 
 
 I am well, and have suffered nothing, and therefore would never have 
 related my adventure to you but that it may be erroneously reported 
 from other quarters. As my servant was absent, and the carriage 
 obliged to be in Salisbury on Monday, I was too glad to spend all 
 Sunday with Charles Young and Julian, in preference to remaining 
 alone at Salisbury. Julian volunteered to drive me, the distance being 
 only twelve miles from his house — eighteen from Andover — beautiful 
 day ; Charles Young accompanied us on horseback six miles across the 
 Plain. In the way, they told me it was only a bridle-road, but that 
 they knew every inch of it, and it was as pleasant to travel over as a 
 macadamized road. They described the difficulties people met with in 
 finding their way off the Plain. Sir John Paulin had last year been 
 lost, and literally remained on horseback all night. About an hour 
 after Charles Young left us we came to very rough ground, and I was 
 shaken once or twice enough to make me cry — Oh ! At last a col- 
 lection of ruts made it evident that wheels, springs, and all were in 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 405 
 
 danger. Julian paused, and proclaimed the necessity of getting out to 
 lead the horses over, requesting me to remain within. Oh, had I ! — 
 my impulse was not strong enough to make me immediately decide ; 
 but the Providence that watches over all, and has hitherto protected 
 me, was my guide; I got out, and in a half minute an agonizing 
 exclamation of " Whoa!" was followed by my companion struggling with 
 the horses, and before I could scramble with my weak limbs to assist, 
 we saw the affrighted wild animals galloping at speed awa}^ with the 
 light vehicle over Salisbury Plain. It was undulating ground, and 
 from their ascending a steep bit they were totally lost to our view in a 
 very short time. I advised Julian to run as fast as possible ; and if he 
 could keep them in view he might, at all events, see the result. He 
 left me — he followed in the track, mounted the hill, and then I lost 
 sight of him. 
 
 I remained, I believe, but a few minutes, when I saw him returning, 
 waving his hat over his head. I concluded the carriage and horses 
 were found or stopped. No ! he had not seen them ; but, all anxiety 
 for me, came to say he knew one landmark on the hill, which if I could 
 w^alk or crawl to, he should know how to find me ; that he had ascer- 
 tained we were within a mile and a half of the high road, and then but 
 four miles from Salisbury. He assured me if he could not find his 
 carriage he would go or send for a chaise to fetch me, and left his coat 
 in my care that he might run the lighter, and again departed, on the 
 hopeless errand of overtaking two horses galloping at the rate of twenty 
 miles an hour. 
 
 I shall not attempt to describe my feelings when left alone on this 
 wild heath. 1 call upon your imagination to assist me. " Helpless, 
 forgotten, sad, and lame," I lay on the bare ground, after praying on 
 my knees to be rescued from my desolation, and returning thanks for 
 my miraculous preservation; for had I remained in the carriage, Julian, 
 would have had the additional horror of seeing me borne away by the 
 desperate animals, for the pole was broken by the uneven road, and his 
 power of holding them entirely taken away by a blow from the point ot 
 it on his breast, which compelled him to quit his hold. 
 
 My reflections on the nature of my losses, and the possibility of re- 
 pairing them — having the whole of my luggage with me, money and 
 all packed within, &c. — you must fancy. My bag had supported my 
 legs, and was loose in the front of the vehicle, and the portmanteau not 
 secure, as it was an entirely open carriage without a head. I was en- 
 cumbered with my heavy coat. I got on my legs, and, without a stick 
 (which was left in the four-wheeler), proceeded a short distance, but 
 then, exhausted, sat down. My gouty toe, after being what I thought 
 well, gave way (not that it is gout), and I crept on my hands and knees 
 to the furze on the hill, where I was directed ; altogether about half a 
 mile, it is supposed. There I was seated, with a possibility of remaining 
 all night. The world before me, but no choice. Not a house, not u 
 human being to be seen — a wild waste immeasurable, and a shower of 
 snow to cheer my spirits. After reflecting on the cold ground I know 
 
406 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 not how long, I saw at about half a mile distant a man on horseback; 
 I waved my hat, my handkerchief — he saw me not; I shouted, he heard 
 me not ; a human voice, however rough and dissonant, would have been 
 music to my ear. He seemed to direct his course towards me — good 
 God ! 'tis Julian ! he brings me rescue from this comfortless bed. Again 
 I shouted, again I waved my silken signal — still there was no recogni- 
 tion, I thought it could be no other than Julian — surely he must see 
 me if it be he ; here I am at his own appointed spot.* 'Tis he — 'tis 
 he, — alas ! no. He turns from me, and again I am left, perhaps to 
 perish, unheeded, helpless ; no friendly voice to cheer me, no human 
 arm to lift me from the sod. The only chance of help I had seen dis- 
 appeared in the dip of the hill in the old Koman road, the various fosses 
 of which met my eye and impeded the view of the road, which was 
 nearer than I thought. In a short time the horseman, to my almost 
 wild delight, reappeared; the movements of the form, the turn of the 
 head, indicated an inquiring look — the rider was evidently in search of 
 an object,— he was, a wretched one. My hopes revived. 'Tis an iron 
 grey, — I know the horse ; it is Julian : I waved my hat, — I could not 
 get up ; 'tis a countersign — he sees me, he waves in response. My 
 knees obeyed, though my legs had refused their office, and I returned 
 loud thanks to God, for it was evident the horses had been stopped. 
 
 Our meeting was curious. An hysteric affection appeared to make 
 him laugh at the accident. He told me that after the ponies had run 
 tor a mile and a half they encountered the stump of a tree, about four 
 feet high, which had impeded their course, completely overturned the 
 carriage, and by a sudden shock broke the traces all to atoms, by which 
 they were disencumbered and released from their clattering followers 
 and all their responsibility ; and that they must have remained in- 
 stantly still, for there Julian found them, close by the remains of the 
 phaeton. 
 
 There was a camp of gipsies near the spot, and to their immortal 
 honour be it known, that though they had assembled round the wreck 
 before Julian appeared, and had abundance of time to appropriate our 
 scattered luggage — for the bags might have been popped into their camp, 
 and we should have concluded that they had been shaken out, and that 
 all search was useless — they had not touched an article : all was safe, 
 even to three sticks and an umbrella — nothing shaken out till the 
 overturn. Is it not marvellous ? Had not this stump, and a fosse 
 within their sight have impeded them, it would be useless to conjecture 
 whether they would have galloped five or twenty miles, or whether they 
 had been found at Southampton or Andover. 
 
 I mounted (with the assistance of a gipsy, who fortunately appeared, 
 and Julian on all fours, I treading on his back) his barebacked pony, 
 and without stirrups, of course. He led the animal, and on foot pro- 
 tected me, forgetting all his cares and losses in his affectionate anxiety. 
 
 * It will be obvious that Mr. Mathews mixes a mock romantic style in this 
 description, in order to lighten the serious effect the accident might otherwise 
 have upon my feelings in reading the account of it. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 407 
 
 Thus, in agony from hip and toe, did I accomplish three miles. I 
 managed to accomplish it, but nature at last was exhausted, and I pro- 
 claimed my inability to proceed. We were then two miles from Salis- 
 bury, and I sat down by the roadside. At this moment a stage-coach 
 most opportunely presented itself; we got on the top, a man from the 
 roof descended to lead the pony, and we arrived safely. Julian imme- 
 diately took a chaise, and at six o'clock returned with every article safe, 
 the dilapidated phaeton excepted ; this had been fastened with ropes and 
 attached to the chaise. I gave my entertainment that night in Salis- 
 bury ; and you may suppose what were my balmy reminiscences of such 
 events when I laid my head on my pillow. 
 
 Charles Mathews. 
 
 There seemed, indeed, a fatality attending all my husband's 
 movements from home. Hovv many severe and dangerous acci- 
 dents did he encounter in the course of his life ! First in 
 Ireland, in 1794, he was almost drowned (I might almost say 
 actually, for he suffered all the pains of such a death), and was 
 taken out of the water in a state of total insensibility. In 1801 
 a heavy platform fell upon him while acting, and he was taken off 
 the stage as dead. In 1803 he was violently thrown from his 
 horse at a review, and was threatened with dangerous conse- 
 quences ever after. In 1807, on a shooting party, his gun burst 
 and shattered his hand, and he was many weeks after under a 
 surgeon's care. In 1814 he was thrown oub of his tilbury, and 
 became lame for life ! In 1817 another horse fell going down a 
 steep hill in a tilbury, and Mr. Mathews was thrown over the 
 animal's head and severely cut and bruised. In 1827, while in 
 a floating-bath at Brighton, the "life-preserver" turned round 
 and forced him upon his face, in which position he must have 
 been suffocated had not a gentleman witnessed the accident and 
 rescued him from his danger.* In the year 1829 the roller of 
 the drop-scene on the Plymouth stage fell upon his head while 
 " At Home" there, and he was taken up to all appearance dead, 
 and remained many minutes in a state of insensibility. Four 
 years after this precisely the same accident occurred in the 
 Devonport theatre and with the same results ! In 1883, while 
 returning from an evening walk, a large dog ran between his 
 legs and knocked him down with a violent shock. This accident 
 again placed him under a surgeon's hands. A few weeks after, 
 while recovering from this hurt, another dog threw him off a 
 
 * Should this meet the eye of the humane stranger, let it iaform him that 
 it was a cause of deep mortification to Mr. Mathews, that in losing his card 
 before he left Brighton, he was prevented from calling upon his preserver in 
 London, and expressing his thanks for his aid. 
 
408 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 garden seat, and painfully injured his hand and wrist. But the 
 last trial was the most severe since that of 1814. 
 
 When all these accidents are remembered, it would appear 
 that he bore about him little less than a " charmed life." That 
 he escaped as he did, twice from the curtain peril, was miraculous, 
 when we consider the impetus given to the roller of the drop- 
 scene as it falls. 
 
 The situation in which he found himself on Salisbury Plain — 
 the last of his '' accidents by flood and field," was quite as 
 memorable as that which injured his bodily health for life ; that 
 left a lasting personal evidence of its severity — this an indelible 
 impression on his mind. Let those who marvel at the stress 
 laid ou this last peril travel over that dreary waste in the month 
 of November, in severe weather ; let them imagine their limbs 
 helpless and in pain from accumulated injuries, and then, after 
 the agitation of such a misadventure, let them reflect on its 
 possible consequences to himself, on the approach of night, with 
 a possibility of not being discovered by his absent friend when 
 he returned to seek him on a plain where there was scarcely a 
 distinguishing feature to mark the spot on which he had left him. 
 
 On hearing my husband's oral report of his feelings from this 
 accident I ceased to lament the event, for I became perfectly 
 assured that it left a more lively faith upon his mind, and dis- 
 posed him to meditate more frequently and more deeply upon a 
 future state ; and his reliance upon his Creator, who had so 
 signally shown His protection to him here, and preserved him 
 from so many perils, was accompanied by a firmer belief that He 
 would not forsake him hereafter. With these impressions full 
 in my recollection, I can never think or hear of Salisbury Plain 
 without considering it a hallowed spot, consecrated by the 
 bended knees of pious supplication and the upraised voice of 
 prayer and thanksgiving to the Most High from a soul sancti- 
 fied by His mercies. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 409 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 Serious illness of Mr. Mathews — His sufferings — Letters to Mrs. Mathews ; 
 Corbyn's Hall ; Fop's first appearance on any stage ; Mr. Mathews's recep- 
 tion at Birmingham — Letter to the Rev. Thomas Speidell — Letters to Mrs. 
 Mathews — Inns ; application from the Coveut-garden Theatrical Fund — Mr. 
 Mathews's speech at the Fund dinner. 
 
 The following letters will show how rapidly my husband's 
 disorder, which was destined to be fatal, was gaining ground, 
 and at the same time how he rallied from time to time, owing 
 to the buoyancy of his spirits ; still I entertained no alarm for 
 the ultimate result of the varying symptoms. 
 
 I was deeply distressed that the poor sufferer should have 
 occasion to fatigue himself under such visible indisposition ; but 
 1 little deemed that his strong principle and great fortitude 
 were urging him to exertions that every moment forced him 
 nearer to his tomb ! I am now assured that he did not reveal 
 half his sufferings, but struggled secretly through them, from a 
 rigorous determination to pursue his duty at all risks, and with 
 equal determination to prevent my knowing the extent of his 
 efforts. 
 
 It may be observed, in proof of his anxiety to keep my mind 
 at ease and to lighten it, when necessity compelled communica- 
 tions of a distressing nature, such as accidents or illness happen- 
 ing to him when from home, that he always contrived to relate 
 them in a jesting or playful manner, in- order to divest them of 
 the power to occasion the painful effects they were otherwise 
 calculated to excite in my mind. What forbearance did all this 
 require ! — what innate goodness of heart did it reveal ! — and 
 what an unpaid debt of gratitude has it left upon my memory ! 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews.. 
 
 Corbyn's Hall, Dudley, Jan. 7tb, 1834. 
 Here T am laid up in cotton, " presarved away" — but unfit for work. 
 I am sewed up. That Drury-lane box !* I felt then to a certainty 
 
 * He attributed a hoarsenesa from which he at this time suffered, to a cold 
 
410 THE LIFE AND COKRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 what must hapT>en. I am hoarse and cannot act. Had I not felt com- 
 pelled to go to Cheltenham, I mig-ht have fought it off, but three hours' 
 -tearing of a-daraaged throat must succeed in destroying it. Sleeping in 
 a cold mail all to myself could not have improved it; and I felt on 
 Saturday morning, much as you did on Christmas-day, when you were 
 obliged to write with a pencil instead of speaking. None can feel better 
 for me than yourself; but imagine that you had been advertised to 
 t;ing in a day or two, and you will comprehend my situation. On 
 3Ionday here, I issued handbills and postponed. My wheezing is very 
 troublesome. 
 
 I had an invitation from my namesake, Charles Mathews's brother 
 William, to spend my two or three days, two miles from Dudley and 
 three from Stourbridge, where 1 was to have appeared on Monday. 
 O. Mathews drove me here on Sunday, and I am luckily in clover — 
 delightful house — cosey — and with real comforts. He is an iron-master 
 and proprietor of collieries — so we are too warm — as he is. I am 
 grateful, very highly «o, indeed, that I should be so situated; for 
 Hagley, charming in summer, is but a village inn, — and Stourbridge, 
 oh ! such a dungeon ! I am really welcome and quite SpeideWized ; so 
 be quite easy about me, excepting the money part of the business. 
 However, it is useless to repine; no help, and no hope, but rest. I 
 might have been in a narrow street all the time. I am now looking at 
 five miles of beautiful view, with the Wrekin to boot. I had forty miles 
 journey on Saturday, and it poured incessantly from the time I left 
 Oxford at half-past two Friday morning, until last night ten. To-day 
 summer, — lovely sunshine ; I hope to hear that your cold has abated. 
 I do not expect you can be yet well. 
 
 ■C. M. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews, 
 
 Corbyn's Hall, Jan. 9th, 1834. 
 
 ~T am as per last with respect to the wheezing, &c., but my working 
 voice is greatly improved ; my little boys can reply to me, and I return 
 to my shop to-morrow.* 
 
 *' No dog can behave better :" I was afraid of Fop here at a private 
 house, but he has duty to do all day ; large lawn, lots of sparrows to 
 drive away, and Mrs. Mathews is fond of pets, so he is in clover as well 
 as his master. He sleeps in my room, and not a sound do I ever hear 
 until he ascertains I am "waking up." He is the quietest and nicest 
 of animals, I therefore do rejoice I brought him away from " the 
 fancy. "t I have not a notion what "the tub" contains. I am also at 
 a loss about Mr. Mortimer Drummond. 
 
 and comfortless private box. Alas ! the occasional failure of his voice at this 
 time was a part of his disorder. 
 
 * Whenever his voice had suifered in any way, the test of its recovering was 
 his being able to speak in the tones of children. 
 
 *t This little favourite, a black-and-tan foxhound-terrier, and the most 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 411 
 
 " One of the most attractive and best written stories in the work* is, 
 we understand, that of C. Mathews, jun., the author of * Mj Wife's 
 Mother ;' it is entitled * The Black Riband.' " 
 
 Pouring all yesterday and to-day. To be sure, I could not go out ii 
 it was fine. 
 
 CM. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Birmingbam, Jan. 13th, 1834. 
 
 My poor dear sufferer, your letter has made me very unhappy : ill and 
 alone ! Pray write, if but one line, by return, to say how you are : 
 pray do. 
 
 Fop made his first appearance on any stage last night, Cheltenham. 
 He has always remained perfectly still in one spot for three hours 
 during the performance, but last night Mr. Moss left the door open 
 where he had been deposited, and just as I was saying, " This young 
 gentleman's name isNorval," he found me, and wagged his tail; but I 
 never saw him ; yet did it he did. He gives no trouble whatever. 
 
 I am charming well again as to voice, but my cold is not quite gone. 
 I did my work, however, marvellously, in so large a theatre. I have so 
 often related the greatest thing that I have done, that I thought wonder 
 could no i'urther go. I think you Heard me declare I would not give 
 25/. for the Brum, theatre ; Crisp, however, came over from Worcester 
 at Christmas, and being more confident as to my attraction than I am, 
 bargained for bOl. lor three nights. I fear to announce the result, 
 ibr the thirty and forty pounders I am coming to soon will appear too 
 insignificant to excite your attention. I had this great theatre crammed 
 fidl, every seat below taken, and 224Z. in the house : nearly one thou- 
 sand persons in the gallery. Since the early English Opera days, I 
 have never equalled this quite alone, and on my own account. I cannot 
 expect half as much again ; but there is now a respectable box-book for 
 to-morrow. — What a thing! The quiet attention of such numbers 
 of manufacturers up above is perfectly curious. 
 
 I go to Wolverhampton on .Friday for one night. 
 
 Cod's sounds 1 and was that the end of the tale of a Tuh. But what 
 of Mr. Drummond ? 
 
 C. M. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Corbyn's Hall, 20th Jan. 1834. 
 I slept here last night in my way to Stourbridge, where I dine to-day, 
 sleep at Hagley, and proceed for my third ni^ht to Birmingham to- 
 
 iutelligent of its race, had been stolen several times since our return to 
 Loudon. 
 
 « Heath's "Book of Beauty." 
 
412 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 morrow. I meet with nothing but kindness and hospitality in these 
 parts. I am nearly restored — all but a little wheezing. I h id 501. at 
 Wolverhampton, which is about as much as the house will hold; but 
 these small figures, as I warned you, must be looked at as great in 
 such towns. What a week ! I don't expect less than 1001. to-morrow, 
 and that will be such a week as ! ! never — Five hundred I'rom Monday 
 till Tuesday — for my second at Brum my was 130Z. Perfectly won- 
 derful ! but remember my expenses, — don't be too much dazzled. How 
 fortunate Crisp had more confidence in my attraction than I had myself, 
 for I had indignantly refused to give the 261. for the theatre. 
 
 From hence I proceed to my Yorkshire estates. 
 
 I can do no more than I am doing : thank God for my strength and 
 willingness to work ! 
 
 Fop's second appearance was not so effective as his first. It was at 
 Wolverhampton, where he was not noticed even by a laugh, and he sat 
 down contentedly before the green baize table and waited until I left 
 the stage. Love to dear Charley. 
 
 CM. 
 
 To the JRev. Thomas Speidell. 
 
 Lichfield, Jan. 23rd, 1834. 
 
 My vert deae Speidell, — Your first wish, if I know you, is to 
 hear of my success. I have to record, then, my greatest week out of 
 London, and our nearly greatest week in. Our bathing machinery, too, 
 is a hit ; the ladies of the bath have enticed instead of driving away 
 the ladies from the boxes. Here Yates has beat me in judgment 
 hollow ; and I am free to acknowledge it. Last week produced nearly 
 700Z. ... 
 
 Mrs. Mathews has been seriously ill : her disorder finished with 
 jaundice. She is now staying with some friends at Clapham. Charles 
 has been acting Mr. Simpson at Woburn ; the Duchess, Mrs. Simpson 
 —he says capitally. 
 
 I paid my visit to Sir , Knight, of Hxfyhldy and Ghfq, grand 
 
 star Ivimgum peccacs, first gentleman usher to the — pshaw ! — I forget. 
 I wish, though,, he would not call names : I don't so much mind his 
 " The all is the largest ;" for it is no more than a truism, one would 
 think, and he can't pronounce it otherwise. In addition, however, to 
 his asking me if I had been annoyed with a shower of ale in the night 
 (which was a most powerful home-thrust, I having suffered from 
 drinking a glass of what he would have called hale), he called my son 
 a harchey-tect. Such, men ought to be knighted. Joking apart, he 
 can give one a great treat. The mosaic is a most magnificent, glorious 
 "Work of art, and I was highly gratified. And now, dear Speidell, as I 
 have two managers, four printers, and some York theatre trustees to 
 write to this day, excuse brevity. 
 
 Kind sayings to the Doctor and all the nine Eattraj-s, Bird and Co., 
 Lake, <&c. 
 
 Ever sincerely yours, C. Mathews. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 413 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Elvaston Castle, Jan. 26tli, 1834. 
 
 I am here fulfilling an engagement rai;de last July * Magnificent ! 
 — " Eastern Grandeur, — Aziatic logezery." Everything truly agreeable 
 liere— real solid comforts and liberty. Everything doing well again : 
 Lichfield, little quiet Lichfield, part of pit laid into boxes ; 67Z. in a 
 theatre said to hold when crammed, 60Z. Dined with a Speidellian 
 iriend. Dr. Mott: met there another, who thanked me for my hospi- 
 tality, which I cannot remember, and sent me in his chariot twelve 
 miles on my road, Friday, carriage having gone on. Saw, on entering 
 Derby in a stage coach, a frightful spectacle, eleven hundred men and. 
 a hundred women (the latter all dressed in white) in a procession, two 
 and two, attending a funeral, making a mockery of woe, the real 
 purpose of the assemblage being to intimidate the master manufacturers, 
 these people belonging to a trade's-union, and all out of employ, through 
 their own unlawful combination for higher wages. 
 
 We were detained a considerable time — the shops all shut, and streets 
 lined with a dense population. The excitement was too great for my 
 purposes, for alarm evidently was felt by the peaceable. I then heard 
 there was a ball at night, where two hundred people were to kick about, 
 therefore I did wonders, after despairing. When I finished, they called 
 from the pit, " Another night ! — another night !" 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 York, Feb. 16tli, 1834. 
 
 Your last letter would have been cheap at five pounds. I don't 
 know, now, why I was so particularly alarmed at not hearing on 
 Thursday night ; but I thought 1 had a right to be if there was no 
 arrival on Friday. Well ! I was in a nervous fidget all dinner-time. 
 Belcombe's servant went to the post-office at half-past six, and returned 
 with a newspaper and letter. " Huzza !" said he, " we shall benefit by 
 this arrival." They were both from Doncaster. 
 
 " This all P" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Are you sure ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir : they looked very carefully." 
 
 Suppose what I felt. Had there been none, I could have borne it 
 better than the two wretched things from Doncaster. I was shaken in 
 a chair to the theatre till I was sick. At ten minutes past seven o'clock, 
 while I was wondering that there was no paper, at all events, in ran a 
 man with — "Postmaster begs pardon, sir; here's a letter." If the 
 audience had but known why I was in such spirits, they would have 
 laughed : and such a letter ! — charming ! — enough to gladden the heart 
 
 • To visit the Earl of Harrington. 
 
414 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 of a desponding father. "Bless him ! I am made more than happ}' by 
 your description, be assured. 
 
 The Belcombes are more than kind. Tell Charles I am as ^ood as 
 he is. I have not been in an inn a long time, and shall not till I get 
 to Nottingham. Everybody is civil, and pets me. All sorts of love 
 are sent to you and him. The Belcombes are as fond of him as any 
 duke or duchess can be. Observe ! don't write even No. 1, or one of 2, 
 outside the frank of a newspaper : the Duke of Eichmond charges 
 sixteen shillings for it. 
 
 I write this second sheet three miles from York, the Doctor having 
 given me a ride, and Fop a run. While he prescribes, I write, as I 
 have no other time. I am going to t' Minster at four, and dine at t' 
 barracks with Lord Arthur Hill at six. Such a splendid day ! 
 
 My last night will be Leicester, March 3rd, and then I bend home- 
 wards. 
 
 The Belcombes send back all the combined love of a most loveable 
 family. Do write to Anne. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. IfatJiews. 
 
 Newstead Abbey. 
 
 I don't know how to answer the question about " shall you require 
 anything about the Fund to be sent ?" If you could hit upon a new 
 thought, I might as well have it a day or two before, though I mean to 
 trust chiefly to chance. A pretty quotation about charity I should 
 like; but a bit of fun above all, if the subject could be joked upon. 
 As to the plaster cast, if Charles does not care about it, I am sure I 
 don't ; therefore I fling back the responsibility. 
 
 Beauty day ! — extensive park — *' Hospitalities, look you" — charming! 
 and no grandeur. 
 
 Your peremptory " must write by return" has occasioned a man and 
 horse to go hence on purpose with this letter. We are three miles and 
 a half from Leicester, and the letters for London were sent before the 
 postman delivered yours. Love to Charley, and " dat's all," but that 
 I am ever affectionately yours, C. M. 
 
 101 Z. in two nights at Nottingham, and all the places taken here, or 
 rather there ! 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Birstall, Leicester, March 3rd, 1834. 
 
 The best reason I can give you for not informing you of the time of 
 my return home, was, that I did not, and could not, know it until 
 yesterday. Neither did you desire it of me in your last. I have read 
 it carefully again, and positively there is no such word. Are you 
 answered ? 
 
CHAELES MATHEWS. 415 
 
 The Fund paid postage, or I should have been In a great rage. A 
 long letter, telling me what I could have told them ; who founded the 
 Fund, and how long ago, and a list of the vice-presidents, making a 
 great thick packet, which frightened me. I don't know what to say, 
 or what to do : they have made me miserable ; and if I had anticipated 
 it, I would not have attended at all. I don't know, as you say, what 
 Charles could say either, for I should have no time to study six lines. 
 
 CM. 
 
 , Immediately previous to the day fixed for the Fund dinner, 
 my husband returned home, looking and feeling very unfit for 
 any new exertion. He had something like a horror of the ap- 
 proaching duty imposed upon him, and could resolve upon no 
 stated words for the occasion. On the morning of the day, he 
 became really so ill, that I endeavoured to dissuade him from 
 attending the dinner ; but he had so much principle about a 
 promise, that only a state of utter incapacity to leave home 
 could have induced him thus to disappoint, at the eleventh hour, 
 his brethren on a point of business. When he got into the car- 
 riage, he had tears in his eyes, at what he knew must be a task — 
 a suffering to him both of mind and body ; and, as he declared, 
 he had not the most distant notion of what he could say. How- 
 ever, it was clear one recollection was upon his mind, and upon 
 this he afterwards worked : it was the injurious and illiberal ob- 
 servation of a Mr. Rotch, in the House of Commons, during the 
 last Parliament, that actors were " outcasts of society ;" and my 
 husband, with great felicity, took this phrase for part of his 
 theme. 
 
 He was received on rising with much cheering, and made the 
 following speech : — 
 
 If the noble chairman (said he), in apologizing for the absence of their 
 great patron, had thought it necessary to express his sense of his own 
 want of ability, and his regret that the company had not a better 
 substitute for the illustrious Duke, how much must he (Mr. Mathews) 
 regret the absence of their excellent treasurer, and his own inability 
 adequately to fill his place ; for he stood before them in what he would 
 call *' an awful position " (a laugh). Yes, he had felt his position awful, 
 and he had put forth a feeler in the first place; and as they had laughed 
 when he wished them, he hoped that they would not laugh when he 
 wished them to be serious (applause). The noble chairman had la- 
 mented, as all lamented, the absence of their excellent treasurer, and 
 be had kindly thrown upon him (Mr. Mathews) the task of filling the 
 
 f)lace of his absent friend. He had often sat in that room upon occ.isions 
 ike the present, and he more regretted the absence of his friend, because 
 he (Mr. Fawcett) used to come there armed with facts and arguments, 
 and with an eloquence which in su j1i a cause' was irresistible. He (Mr. 
 
416 THE LIFE AND CORRESrONDENCE OF 
 
 Mathews) had almost suddenly been called upon to stand in his friend's 
 shoes, and he therefore was obliged to say. 
 
 For us and for our charity, 
 Thus stooping to your clemency. 
 We beg your hearing patiently. 
 
 This institution was founded in the year 1765, and there had been at 
 various times since a dispute as to who was the founder. Some said 
 that Mattocks was the founder, others that it was Mr. Hull. There 
 had been a kind of what he (Mr. Mathews) would term an amiable dis- 
 pute amongst the relatives and admirers of Messrs. Hull, Mattocks, 
 and the celebrated Garrick, with whom the idea of a theatrical fund 
 originated. The Covent Garden institution certainly was founded by 
 the two former. Each claimed the merit of the suggestion ; and on 
 application for an Act of Parliament they ran a race tor the prize ; it 
 was nearly a " dead heat ; " but Garrick won by gaining the Act of 
 Parliament before Covent Garden^ However, from that year up to the 
 year 1815, the society had been supported by the actors, occasionally 
 assisted by other contributors. The present royal family had long and 
 liberally patronised it. His late Majesty George the Fourth sent a 
 donation of 100^. annually. His late Royal Highness the Duke of 
 York not only subscribed, but annually took the chair at their dinners ; 
 and upon his lamented death, which was one of the greatest calamities 
 that could happen to this institution, his present Gracious Majesty not 
 only came forward with great warmth, but said that he looked upon his 
 patronage as a duty imposed upon him by his late illustrious brother, 
 from whom it had descended to him as an heir-loom (great applause). 
 When his Majesty was subsequently placed upon the throne, his Royal 
 Highness the Duke of Sussex became their president. 
 
 The first idea of a public dinner originated with Mr. Fawcett (hear, 
 hear) ; but, perhaps that, like the origin of the institution itself, might 
 be matter for an " amiable " dispute (hear, and a laugh). But what 
 gratified him (Mr. Mathews) now was, that he had an opportunity of 
 doing justice to the man who was an honour — he would not say merely 
 to the profession — but to human nature (applause). That man had 
 devoted days and nights, and weeks and years, to promote the interest 
 of that institution and of the profession (great applause). He was the 
 most enthusiastic and warm friend of the institution, and he gave up 
 more of his thoughts to it than, perhaps, to any other subject (hear, 
 hear). Had he (Mr. Mathews) then not said truly that he stood in an 
 awkward position, to take the place of a man who possessed so much 
 eloquence, to which he (Mr. Mathews) had no pretensions ? If any one 
 present wanted to ask for himself a favour of a friend, would not his 
 voice falter, and his tongue lose its power ? But when any man came 
 before a friend, as the advocate of others, to plead the cause of the 
 unfortunate, then would not the words flow, as it were, spontaneously ? 
 Now he stood before them in the latter position; and recollecting that 
 Mr. Fawcett had always filled that situation on former occasions, he 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS 4J7 
 
 (Mr. Mathews) felt his disadvantage to be like that of a comic actor 
 who was called upon at a short notice to play a tragic part (applause 
 and laughter). He hoped that gentlemen did not come there that 
 evening with the supposition that the object of the institution was only 
 to support people in old age, or othenvise unable to support themselves. 
 It had been the fancy of Mr. Fawc* t, that the institution might one 
 day enable actors to retire after a number of years upon "halt-pay," 
 and he had lived to see the wish realised. Mr. Hull used to say, that 
 he hoped to live to see the fund amount to 10,00OZ. ; but Mr. Favvcett 
 had lived to see that sum trebled (cheers). At this day the society was 
 paying out of the interest of its funded capital annually 900/. 
 
 There was a notion prevalent that actors were careless and improvi- 
 dent, and that in the course of some few years they ought, every one of 
 them, to save a competence for the remainder of their lives (a laugh). 
 But, with a nominal salary of 61. per week, an actor really received no 
 more than 200Z, a year, if so much, when those parts of the year in 
 which he was not engaged, and consequently not paid, were deducted 
 (hear, hear). Mr. Emery never had more than 121. a week, and he had 
 a large family to support ; and would that society refuse to contribute 
 towards the support of such a man ? (hear, hear). He would say that 
 it ought not to be the only object of that society to support those who 
 could not support themselves (hear). It ought to aim at rewarding 
 high merit in its decline (hear, hear). He could name persons who 
 were assisted by this society, and at whose names the heart of every 
 man present would warm (applause). Here he ought not to omit 
 stating, that there were many persons, patrons of the society, who did 
 not honour them with their presence at the annual dinner ; amongst 
 them he should mention the Duke of Devonshire, who had that day 
 sent a donation of 100/. He was sure that all the patrons of the 
 institution would be glad to hear that the society had an opportunity of 
 assisting many persons of whom they would be sorry to hear it said, 
 that they had come upon the charity. They had not come upon the 
 charity, but they had a claim upon the funds after twenty-one years* 
 subscription (hear, hear). Was there one in that room who would not 
 be gratified to hear that he had contributed towards adding 1001. a-year 
 to the means of such persons ? Until last year, they had been only 
 able to allow 80/. a-year ; but this year, the liberality of the patrons 
 had enabled them to increase it to 100/. He wanted that society to 
 hold out to young gentlemen of family, — now when all prejudice had 
 vanished from the minds of liberal men, — that they might have a 
 prospect of retiring from the profession upon half-pay (hear, hear). 
 
 Various were the causes which had been alleged for the decline of 
 the drama ; some said that the theatres were too large ; but the late 
 John Kemble once said, when told that the public did not like large 
 theatres, " Sir, the public lie ! When I and my sister were burnt out 
 of Drury-lane, we performed at the Opera House, where we drew houses 
 of 700/. a night ! We then went to the Haymarket, where we never 
 had more than 300/., and the small theatre was never full." He (Mr. 
 
 E E 
 
418 THE LIFE AND COEKESPONDENCE OF 
 
 Mathews) had travelled lately round the provinces, and he had seen 
 many attempts to put down the drama. In Sheffield, for instance, there 
 was a clergyman who desired to be informed whenever the players came 
 down there. His clerk used to go to the printing-office, and ask when 
 were the players coming down ; " because the parson was going to have 
 a fling at them." After commenting very severely upon the parson's 
 conduct, he said he had read in the papers, but he hoped it was not true, 
 that in a late parliamentary discussion relating to the drama, a member 
 of the Legislature had experienced regret that the time of parliament 
 should have been so much taken up with the case of the " outcasts of 
 society," He (Mr. Mathews) said, honestly, that he never had had any 
 wish to be in the House of Commons (hear, and great laughter) ; but 
 after he read the speech of the senator to whom he alluded, he almost 
 •wished he had been in the senate at the time, that he might have stood 
 up and asked him to his face, would he say that Garrick was an outcast ? 
 Would he say that Shakspeare was an outcast of society ? But would 
 Shakspeare ever have been the writer which he was if he had not been 
 an actor ? (hear, hear). Some even of those fanatics who, at Sheffield 
 and in other places, preached sermons against the drama, quoted 
 Shakspeare from the pulpit, and such was their ignorance, that they did 
 not know they were quoting a dramatic writer (great laughter). 
 
 Mr. Mathews then alluded to the writings of Jeremy Collier against 
 the stage, and said, that he was happy they had now a writer upon the 
 drama of the same name, but with vei'y different feelings (applause). 
 Was it not the most scandalous of falsehoods, the most filthy of decep- 
 tions, to say that no person could go into a theatre without hearing 
 something to shock the ears of decency ? Certainly in plaj^s that were 
 written two hundred years ago, when the manners of the times en- 
 couraged licentiousness, they assumed the tone of society ; but it was 
 not true of the drama of the present day. The taste of the public itself 
 prevented the use of an indelicate, or even an equivocal expression 
 (hear, hear). He (Mr. Mathews) had not mentioned the Sheffield 
 attacks upon the drama from any feeling of disappointment as regarded 
 himself 5 for he had attacked the fanatic in his stronghold, and had had 
 the satisfaction of beating him (applause). To those who were now 
 present he need not say, " Are we outcasts P" To those who would say 
 so, he would reply, if they were present, " It is untrue." Was Garrick, 
 the friend of the great and good Dr. Johnson, an outcast ? He of whom 
 Johnson said, that " his death had eclipsed the gaiety of the nation, and 
 suspended the most harmless amusement of the people." Here was the 
 opinion of Dr. Johnson, that the drama was " a harmless amusement" 
 (he^r, hear). How many of that profession had been raised by their 
 merits to the highest rank, and there had not been amongst them a 
 single instance of deviation from virtue after their elevation. He (Mr. 
 Mathews) would rather be the meanest of these outcasts, than be the 
 man who had called them by that name. He would not call even 
 gipsies " outcasts ;" for he had had experience of the honesty of gipsies ; 
 and. if he should hear that there were some of the tribe who were not 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 419 
 
 honest, he would not say that the gipsies were outcasts, but that 
 those gipsies were a disgrace to their profession (cheers and great 
 laughter). 
 
 It had been said by a great writer, Alexander Pope, that — 
 
 Honour and shame from no condition rise : 
 
 and, as if he wished to put a pun into his (Mr. Mathews) hand, he 
 added — 
 
 Act well your part, there all the honour lies. 
 
 It had been said by a noble and learned lord at the table of his late 
 Majesty, when Prince of Wales, that the law was a profession into which 
 no nobleman was ashamed to allow his son to enter. " What obliga- 
 tions," exclaimed Mr. Curran, who was present, " am I then not under 
 to the law, which has enabled me, the son of a poor and lowly peasant, 
 to sit at the table of the Prince of Wales." Well, then, the drama was 
 a profession which raised him (Mr. Mathews), " an outcast," to sit at 
 the table of the Prince of Waterloo (cheers) ! Nor did he go there in 
 the character of Punch ; and he could add, that he never met the noble 
 Duke in the street without the honour to be acknowledged by him 
 (hear). Mr. Mathews then appealed to the press to vindicate the 
 drama from these unfounded attacks, and he called on the members of 
 the profession to be urged by such calumnies to greater exertions for 
 their distressed brethren. He called upon them to come forward to the 
 aid of the widows and children of those men who had raised the profes- 
 sion to its present respectability, and he trusted that everj'- one of them 
 had a tear for pity, and a hand open as day to melting charity. 
 
 Mr. Mathews sat down amidst immense cheering'. 
 
 £ E 2 
 
420 THE LIFE AND COERESPONDENCE OF 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 Offer to Mr. Mathews of a second engagement in America — His reluctance to 
 accept it — His ultimate determination — His performance at Richmond, 
 being his last public appearance in England — Parting interview between Mr. 
 Mathews and Mr. Bannister — Mr. and Mrs. Mathews at Mr. Cartwright's 
 House in the Isle of Wight — Their departure from England in the Canada 
 — Valedictory letter from Mr. Theodore Hook — The voyage — The somnam- 
 bulist — Arrival at New York ; the scurrilous placard ; Mr. Mathews's per- 
 formance in New York of his ' ' Trip to America ;" its effect on the audience 
 — Mr. Mathews's reception in Philadelphia. 
 
 In the spring of 1834, an agent of the American theatres came 
 over, and held forth a brilhant inducement to Mr. Mathews, if 
 he would once more cross the Atlantic. My husband, rather 
 to my surprise, seemed unwilling to listen to an}'- terms. It had 
 been, a few j^ears earlier, his most ardent wish to pay one more 
 visit to that country, if only, as he said, to contradict the as- 
 persions of vulgar and interested malice, which had accused him 
 of ingratitude to the people who had used him so kindly : now, 
 however, he seemed averse even to the thought. I regretted 
 this, and pressed him to make up his mind to this certain mode 
 of retrieving all losses. He looked at me in such a manner as 
 brought tears into my eyes, though I hardly knew why, until he 
 said, " If I go, I shall never behold you or Charles again !" I 
 was silenced ; but eventually the offers and temptations of 
 Mr. Maywood prevailed, without any further persuasion from 
 me ; and, as soon as I was informed of this, I made known my 
 determination to my husband to go with him. He was much 
 affected at this announcement of the sacrifice I was anxious to 
 make of my home comforts, — and to leave Charles! Mr. Ma- 
 thews expressed his fears that I could not endure the fatigue 
 and suffering of such a voyage. Indeed, the indulgence I had 
 ever experienced from this best of husbands, who, it might be 
 truly said, had never permitted " the winds of heaven to visit 
 me roughly," had unfitted me for hardship ; but I was positive : 
 and well was it for my after reflections that I persisted in my 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS, 421 
 
 determination. At the time I had no suspicion that my going 
 would be of more importance to him than that of companion- 
 ship ; but I felt that I could not bear to see him depart without 
 me. I had no forebodings of evil ; on the contrary, I augured 
 a happy result to his health from the voyage. He loved the 
 sea, and always felt the better for its influence ; and, next to his 
 hoped-for restoration to bodily strength, I could not but rejoice 
 that he had consented to a plan which was calculated to place 
 him independent of future casualties and worldly difficulties, in 
 comfort and repose for the rest of his life.* Ultimately, all was 
 arranged with his partner, Mr. Yates, and every other impedi- 
 ment surmounted. 
 
 A few days before quitting London, Mr. Mathews accepted 
 an engagement to perform at Richmond f for one night. He 
 consequently appeared there to a crowded house on the 25th of 
 July ; and it is remarkable, that his last appearance in England 
 took place upon the very stage whereon his first essay in public 
 was made in the year 1793. 
 
 My husband was excessively anxious to keep our purposed 
 voyage, if possible, a secret until the last minute. His health 
 and spirits were unequal to the task of leave-taking, or the pro- 
 bable remarks that would take place from those ignorant of his 
 "circumstances, especially respecting my accompanying him ; thus 
 a very few, and those our confidential friends only, knew of the 
 intention from ourselves. But rumour, with her hundred tongues, 
 had somehow got hold of the fact, and Mr. Mathews was as- 
 sailed by many inquiries from the idle and curious that distressed 
 and annoyed him. It was always inconceivable to him, how 
 persons not supposed to possess the authority to question the 
 affairs and proceedings of their neighbours, could venture to do 
 so, especially when such interference is evidently unwelcome. 
 But this we had so often m.et with, that wonder had long 
 ceased at such impertinence ; and Mr. Mathews, anticipating a 
 recurrence of such liberties, was restless to escape from them on 
 this occasion. To one or two instances, however, of friendly 
 surprise and regret at his going to America, and advice not to 
 go, &c., he was obliged to submit. An interesting scene took 
 place with Mr. Bannister, who entreated us to see him before we 
 went to America ; adding, that, if we rei'used, it would render 
 him truly unhappy. Such an appeal was not to be resisted ; and 
 this distressing interview was such an overthrow of my dear 
 
 * Oue year's absence would have done this. t In Surrey. 
 
422 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 husband's spirits, that he refused to see every other person who 
 expressed a similar desire. Mr. Bannister had known ire from 
 childhood, and my husband for many years ; and he declared 
 that he loved us both affectionately ; that it was a severe pang 
 at his time of life to take leave of such persons prematurely, as 
 it might be called, for that he was certain he should not live to 
 see us again. He wept most affectingly, and saluting me, while 
 he held his friend's hand in his, after embracing him, his head 
 fell upon my shoulder, and he sobbed so distressingly, that my 
 husband and I were completely subdued. Never shall I forget 
 the benevolent and beautiful features of this aged friend, as he 
 turned, for the last time, his silver head round to look at my 
 husband, whom he thought not to outlive, and truly asserted he 
 should never again behold.* 
 
 It was arranged that Mr. Mathews should now proceed, with 
 his servant and luggage, to a friend's house in the Isle of Wight, 
 there to remain until the Canada should reach Portsmouth 
 from London, and that Charles and myself should follow him 
 from home when all preparations were completed. He there- 
 fore left London for Mr. Cartvvright's hospitable roof,t under 
 which my husband and myself passed the last happy days we 
 were destined ever to know in England. 
 
 On the 27th of August the Canada reached Portsmouth, 
 where we joined it, and took our mournful leave of Charles and 
 our friends. 
 
 Previously to our quitting England, the following letter, 
 amongst many others, gratified my husband excessively. The 
 writer had been one of his earhest companions, and the regret 
 which he expressed at parting touched the heart of him whose 
 constant nature clung to old friends and early associations. Con- 
 trary to his custom, Mr. Mathews seemed anxious to preserve 
 this letter, which he gave into my hands again, after reading it 
 with great emotion, saving, while his eyes were filled with tears, 
 " Take care of that." 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Fulham, Monday. 
 Deae Mes. Mathews, — I very much regretted that you were out on 
 Thursday when I called in Russell-street, and very much regretted that 
 I could not dine at the Garrick Club on Tuesday .| However, leave- 
 
 * Mr. Bannister lived to mourn for his friend. 
 + East Dene. 
 X The day on which the Garrick Club gave a dinner to Mr. Mathews pre« 
 vious to his leaving England. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 423 
 
 taking is an odious ceremony, and so perhaps it is as well as it is. I 
 write to you because I hear that Mat. is gone to the Isle ofWight, and 
 I could not bear that my almost oldest friends — don't be angry — should 
 depart without one word of adieu. 
 
 Assure yourselves that, however chequered my life may have been, 
 and however much we have been separated by circumstances, that the 
 early feelings of friendship and attachment are still fresh in my heart; 
 and believe, for you may, that I shall, during your absence, hear of 
 you, even if not ti-om you, with the deepest interest. The next time we 
 meet, it' that may ever be (which, as far as I am concerned), I doubt, 
 we shall meet under more agreeable circumstances than we should have 
 met, or rather parted, if you and Mathews had been at home on 
 Thursday. Till the time comes, 
 
 Believe me, dear Mrs. Mathews, 
 
 Yours and your sincerely attaclied friend, 
 
 Theodore Hook. 
 
 I publish this letter with great satisfaction, and I am sure the 
 reader will partake of my feeling when I add that it was often 
 referred to and dwelt upon by his friend with much gratification 
 during the residue of his painful life. 
 
 The energy of his determined search after future rest seemed 
 to continue with my husband unabated during the voyage. His 
 spirits were at times surprisingly exhilarated, .and seldom lelt 
 him, except when he saw my sufferings, nearly at one time fatal. 
 He was, in fact, the support and dependence of all on board for 
 means of getting througli a harassing long voyage without 
 ennui. The healthy had full enjoyment of his benevolent exer- 
 tions, and the sick crawled from their bertlis, unwilling to lose 
 the delight offered to them.* 
 
 One interruption to this general good will occurred. Mr. 
 Mathews was, indeed, a universal favourite in the cabin, in which 
 there was a passenger, an elderl}^ simple-mannered man, who 
 described himself as having been formerly the master of a vessel, 
 who had saved enough to enjoy ease and independence away 
 from his craft, and was then bound on a visit to a son resident 
 in New York. This person was a devoted admirer of my hus- 
 band — ever at his side ; he really appeared to love him, while he 
 regarded his powers as superhuman. It was suddenly discovered 
 that this person was in the habit of rising from his sleep, dressing 
 himself!, drinking his " gi'og," going .upon deck, and retreating 
 to his berth without any consciousness of such acts, which when 
 alluded to the next day he would resolutely discredit, and with 
 
 * One of the 'Ureats" he afforded was by reading Mr. Lover's admirable 
 stories of Irish traditions. 
 
424 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 something like resentment silence the assertions of those who 
 were witnesses of his proceedings. Mr. Mathews one day find- 
 ing the old man more than usually earnest in his denial of the 
 facts described, and sorry to see him vexed, turned to his tor- 
 mentor, and in an under tone begged him to desist, for that 
 
 Mr. was probably a somnambulist. Soon after this the 
 
 old man was observed to absent himself from the cabin; he 
 would neither eat nor drink there (nor apparently elsewhere) ; 
 he would not mingle with the mirth he used so much to enjoy — 
 in short, he refused all association and pined in thought. Even 
 his favourite had no influence to draw him from the retired part 
 of the deck where he sat until he could unperceived creep into 
 his berth. At last he became visibly ill, wept frequently, and, 
 in fact, created much interest in my husband's mind as to the 
 cause of his distress Subdued one day, however, by the earnest 
 kindness of Mr. Mathews, and his pressing him upon the origin 
 of the shyness he showed, especially to him, with whom he had 
 been so cordial, the old man confessed that he had overheard 
 Mr. Mathews "call him names," and he had previously con- 
 ceived, such a regard for him that his feelings were proportion- 
 ably hurt. For some time the accused was at a loss even to 
 guess the meaning of this accusation. He denied the charge, 
 and the old man persisted in it. He " would not," he said, 
 "have believed any reporter, but he had heard him himself." 
 When, where, and to whom had he done this ? was the earnest 
 inquiry ; and this brought a solution of the mystery. The old 
 man had caught the word " somnambulist," and being totally 
 unacquainted with its import, had fancied it a term of oppro- 
 brium, and naturally had felt wounded by it! A laboured 
 explanation followed, which with difficulty reassured the old 
 master that no offence was intended, or stigma cast upon him, 
 by his favourite's remark. 
 
 Alter a six weeks' passage, and much suffering from it, we 
 landed at New York, and from that time, in proportion as I 
 regained health and spirits, Mr. Mathews's drooped, and a phy- 
 sician's aid was deemed necessary, who gave it as his opinion 
 that the transition from one climate to another was alone the 
 cause of the present symptoms, and that once inured to the 
 change all would be well. The poor invalid shook his head; 
 3^et, happily for myself, I believed what I hoped. 
 
 My husband's progress during our stay in America will, per- 
 haps, be best derived from my letters to Charles. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 425 
 
 To Charles J. Mathews, Esq. 
 
 New York, September 30th, 1834. 
 Congress Hotel, Broadway. 
 
 Let this assure yon that your father and myself are at lenc]^th arrived 
 in this city, in health and cheerfulness of mind. You may the more 
 rejoice at this intelligence when informed also of the suffering- we have 
 experienced for forty days and nights, which terminated yesterday 
 evening in the most glorious sight I ever beheld or could conceive, 
 namely, the Bay of New York. For the first time I lamented that you, 
 my dear Charles, were not with us ; for during our passage I reckcmed 
 it as the only consolation that you were not a partaker of our misery, 
 — my unbroken, and almost intolerable wretchedness. Assuredly every- 
 thing we see now before us repays the long arrear of comfort and ease 
 due at the close of our voyage, which I shall not scruple to confess has 
 been worse than can be described. We experienced the most severe 
 gales, storms, and every rigour of weather that might have been ex- 
 pected from a December or January season. In fact, so unfortunate a 
 voyage had never before been experienced by the captiiin, who had hi» 
 share of sickness and chagrin, and in vain attempted to hide his anxiety 
 and vexation from his ptissengers. Your father happily, with the 
 exception of one or two qualms, kept his usual health, although without 
 sleep the greater part of the time. 
 
 Well, here all the difficulties, sufferings, and vexations of the cabin are 
 changed to a pleasant, indeed I may call it an elegant room, as- large as 
 our own drawing-room. Thus all is reversed, and the bright side of 
 the medal is before us. Everybody seems ready to oblige, and all are 
 glad to see your father. 
 
 I have not yet been out, but I am reminded of Paris ; the street is as 
 gay as represented in Mr. Burlbrd's Panorama, the ladies as fine. Miss 
 " Clara Fisher" has just passed, in the form of an omnibus, and 
 " Washington Irving" is represented by a similar machine. Mr. 
 -Buckstone has just left the room (with a black face), having trimmed 
 the lamps J* so that some English associations are allowed us. Therfe 
 are private cabriolets, too : one has passed this morning with a gentle- 
 man seated in the very centre of it. Of course no servant or tiger, 
 because the master leaves no room inside ; and, as the entire back of the 
 cab is open, it would be inconvenient' if he stood behind it. The droll 
 effect of this it is easy to conceive. One fact will surprise you : the 
 weather, though sunny, is very cold. 
 
 New York, October 14, 1834. 
 
 Yesterday was " the day, the important day, big with the fate of 
 Cato and of Rome;" simply, it was that of your father's re-appearance 
 upon the American stage. 
 
 Since I wrote last, he recovered his health considerably ; but yesterday 
 morning his symptoms of performing appeared, and i yielded to his 
 
 * A nepro resembling Mr. Buckstone, when made up for a Black in ** Grace 
 Huutley." 
 
426 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 desire to be mIohp and took a trip to some opposite shore till dinner- 
 time. We went over to the city of New Jersey. Mr. May wood arrived 
 from Phihidelphia the nic^ht before to be present on your father's first 
 night. He was apparently ill, and unable to eat any dinner; but when 
 your father went away to the theatre to dress, he revealed to me that 
 his state of mind since his arrival had been most wretched, for that 
 ** he found placards posted about New York, of the most abominable 
 nature, inviting hostility towards Mr. Mathews, and that he feared great 
 opposition would be made to his appearing; that a party was to be 
 expected, undoubtedly, and that he had abstained from informing your 
 father of this, lest the knowledge of what he might expect should 
 inca^mcitate him from meeting the opposition m.editated; he would not 
 therefore be prepared for it until he was ready to go U|X)n the stage, 
 when Mr. Simpson* would apprise him of the probability of disappro- 
 bation, &c. 
 
 I need not tell jou. how I felt at this intimation ; but I was resolved 
 to be present, and near your father, let good or ill befall him. Isidore 
 Guillet arrived, by invitation, to take me to the theatre; and he also 
 seemed full of care, looked paler than usual, and when he found me 
 acquainted with what was threatened, owned that he was also aware of 
 it. He, as well as Mr. May wood, were very apprehensive that a vulgar 
 mob would " annoy" Mr. Mathews very much at the least, by endea- 
 vouring to prevent his performance. 
 
 We arrived at the doors of the theatre, which we found clogged up 
 with crowds of people endeavouring to gain admission in vain. It 
 was within five minutes' time of the curtain's rising. The day had 
 been rainy, but it poured in the evening, and here stood more than I 
 can guess the number of, in this wetting weather, striving to enter a 
 place evidently filled. I was full of alarm, for I saw in this extra- 
 ordinary anxiety all that was to be apprehended. It was impossible 
 for us to think of penetrating this dense mob of pressing people ; and 
 had there not been an entrance by the stage door, we must have 
 returned home. When I got behind the scenes, Mr. Simpson met me 
 with a countenance of dismay. " Wished I had not come," but said 
 Mrs. Simpson was in the box to partake of my feelings. I found this 
 dear little creature in dreadful agitation. She declared her fears of the 
 result, and endeavoured to stimulate ray courage should the worst be 
 realized — namely, Mr. Mathews not being allowed to perform. We 
 entered the private box, and there, what a house ! — not a nook that was 
 not crowded. I looked at the pit, where every night before I had seen 
 the lowest orders of men mixing with the more respectable,f and saw, 
 what appeared to me, all gentlemen. This revived me. 1 looked at 
 the box;es, and beheld all elegantly-dressed people, such as 1 had never 
 seen there since my arrival. 
 
 Isidore endeavoured to prepare me for the peculiar and startling 
 
 * The resident proprietor, 
 t Feiuales do not go into the pit at New York. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 427 
 
 manner which the Americans adopted to express their an<^er in a 
 theatre ; and with a sort of fright unlike any I have before felt, I saw 
 dread preparation for the threatened outrage. After the table and 
 lamps were placed, a dead silence ensued for a minute (my heart died 
 almost in that minute), when the prompter's bell was rung; and before 
 the curtain could begin to obey this announcement of the actor's 
 readiness, a burst of the most stunning applauses I ever heard put all 
 my fears aside. The curtain then rose, your father walked on sternly, 
 but as pale as death, and was met with, such plaudits and cheerings as 
 can be scarcely imagined. He was like the traveller who refused to 
 yield his bosom to the rude assault of the cutting wind, but who 
 instantly threw aside his cloak to the kindly beams of the sun. He 
 was prepared for violence, but the warmth of what seemed almost 
 affection, so overset his firmness, that I was afraid he would not recover 
 it sufficiently to fulfil his task. 
 
 In his address it was requisite that he should touch upon his 
 expected repulse, the injustice of which he was bent on proving, by his 
 purposed performance of his " Trip to America" during his engagement. 
 He really spoke well, and was frequently interrupted by the most' 
 vehement general applause and acclamations. The pit rose to a man ; 
 and, waving their hats, gave three cheers. He then commenced his 
 performance, and nowhere has it been more judiciously appreciated, or 
 more joyously and attentively listened to, for the audience waived the 
 general custom of leaving their jieats (usual even in the boxes) between 
 every act ; during the whole night not one person moved. " Monsieur 
 Tonson" succeeded the two Table-acts, and was equally well received, 
 and, when over, your father was called for. After a short resistance he 
 came forward, reiterated his thanks, &c., and the aucience left the 
 house. Whether those who came to scoff remained to applaud, is not 
 ascertained ; but as no hostile effect appeared, from first to last, it is 
 fair and charitable to suppose that the enemy had repented his " foul 
 intent," and withdrawn it altogether. 
 
 You will be glad to hear that your father never played better or 
 stronger : he even danced, gratuitmisly, I may say, in the last scene of 
 " Morbleu," so little did he feel his lameness. During the evening, it 
 appears, " the weak invention of the enemy" was successfully peeled 
 off the walls of the rival theatre. I give you the benefit of a copy: — 
 
 *' Notice. 
 
 " We understand Charles Mathews is to play on Monday evening, 
 the 13th instant. The scoundrel ought to be pelted from an American 
 stage, alter his writing that book which he did about six years ago, 
 called * Mathews's Caricature on America.' This insult upon Americans 
 ought to meet with the contempt it deserves. After using the most 
 vile language against the * too easily duped Yankees,' as he calls us, he 
 thinks thus to repay us for our kindness towards him. But we hope 
 they will show him that we are not so easily duped this time as we 
 were then, and drive the ungrateful slanderer from our stage for ever," 
 
428 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 Thus ends, without printer's name, this precious morceau, worthy of 
 a place in our book. 
 
 The few we know here have been with us to-day to talk over and 
 congratulate us upon this extraordinary turn to the affair. Your father 
 is quite well, and in high good humour : the sun shines brightly, and 
 all is in keeping with his triumphant success. 
 
 I send you the newspaper accounts of the night,, which are accurate 
 and consistent.. A. M. 
 
 "Long before the rising of the curtain, every part of the house was 
 literally crammed. A belief generally prevailed that a determined and 
 systematic opposition to Mr. Mathews had been formed, to prevent his 
 re-appearance on the American stage, in consequence of a report that 
 he had, after his return to London from the United States, ridiculed 
 our national character and reviled our institutions. Placards of a most 
 violent and inftanmiatory description, calculated to enlist the worst 
 feelings of the community against him, were industriously circulated in 
 the course of the day, and a stormy night at the Park' Theatre was 
 generally anticipated. Oar expectations, we are happy to say, were 
 very agreeably disappointed. A most tremendous shout greeted him, 
 and the plaudits and clapping, and stamping and cheering, and throwing 
 up of hats in the pit drowned everything for some seconds. Not a 
 solitary hiss was heard. Mr. Mathews, placing himself behind his 
 table, continued bowmg and bowing, deeply affected. Silence being 
 obtained, he addressed the audience in a strain of eloquence. He 
 sincerely thanked them for their warm and generous reception of him, 
 and asked, was it possible, if he was guilty, that he would have thus 
 come here to face them ? — No. ' I am not acting now,' said Mr. 
 Mathews, with great feeling, which had an electric effect. The most 
 tremendous applause followed this speech, and and the play proceeded. 
 
 " It is unnecessary to say,, that his rich acting was the same rich treat 
 of exquisite humour, under a succession of remarkable, some of them 
 almost supernatural, transformations — more perfect even than when 
 here before. His voice, perhaps, is not quite so vigorous. The Police 
 Court, and the old Epicure in bed, were admirable ; also his Monsieur 
 Tonson. After the latter he was called out, and repeated what lie had 
 said on his first entrance, adding, that, to prove that he had not done 
 injustice, or been ungrateful to us, he would, with their permission, take 
 occasion hereafter to enact before them his whole * Trip to America,* 
 verbatim et literatim, and abide the issue of their verdict. 
 
 " Mr. Mathews appears to-night in his far-famed and much-discoursed- 
 of * Trip to America.' It was this piece in which he was said to have 
 perpetrated those awful and unpardonable slanders upon our nation, its 
 manners, character, and institutions. The New York audience who 
 have consented, in spite of these terrible calaiimies, to be amused by 
 Mr. Mathews's unequalled performances, will now be able to judge for 
 themselves of the enormity of his guilt towards our countrymen. We 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 429 
 
 were very proud of the high feeling and intelh'gence manifested hy the 
 audience on the first night of his appearance, when, fully believing all 
 that was charged against Mr. Mathews, they went in vast numbers, 
 not merely to hear him courteously, but resolved to suppress any oppo- 
 sition. The calumny most undeniably was started by some personal 
 enemy to Mr. Mathews, — some Englishman, who strove to wreak his 
 spite through the agency of our prejudices and credulity. The fool was 
 mistaken ; we are above such things, and could not be made his tools. 
 Mathews has done no more for us than he did for his countrymen, and 
 they laughed, as we did, at their own caricatures. We are assured that 
 the piece will be given exactly as it was in London." 
 
 To Charles J. Mathews, Esq. 
 
 Broome-street, New York, Oct. 30th, 1834. 
 
 You will see by the above address that we have quitted the hotel we 
 were at ; in fact, we were turned out, the master of it having been 
 compelled to sell up, and not apprising us of his situation until a few 
 days before. We (that is, I and Mr. John Mason, Charles Kemble's 
 nephew) walked about the streets, morning, noon and night, in search 
 of some habitation, in vain ! It is hardly comprehensible to a person in 
 England that two people, in such a city as New York, could, with 
 money to pay for it, be without shelter in any house of entertainment; 
 but, as there are no lodging-houses here, and all the boarding-houses 
 and hotels were full, we found ourselves, after the most persevering 
 and strenuous efforts, on a Friday evening destitute of a place to receive 
 us on the following morning, when all our hotel furniture was to be 
 removed and servants discharged ! 
 
 In this really alarming dilemma Mr. and Mrs. Simpson proposed to 
 " do their best," and take us into their house. We had no alternative, 
 and in spite of the manifest inconvenience they must undergo, we 
 came in here with all our baggage a fortnight ago, and everything 
 that old and dear friends might have been expected to do to make us 
 comfortable and happy has been done by these amiable persons. 
 
 Your father has played his "Trip to America" twice. The first 
 night was an anxious one, as you may imagine, but the same determined 
 spirit sustained him throughout, as was so remarkably displayed on his 
 first appearance. One "ill-natured fellow in the pit"* tried to be 
 heard ; but his attempt was drowned in the ocean of general approba- 
 tion and good humour, and he gave up the effort. Your lather's 
 benefit comes on to-morrow night, the last of his engagement, and we 
 then proceed to Philadelphia. 
 
 If 1 have less amusement for you than you expected, you must place 
 the failure to my cold, our removal, and the bustle and anxiety of your 
 father's professional affairs — harassing I will confess them to have 
 
 * A dramatic fallacy ; it being common for an unsuccessful actor or author 
 to faucy that the opposition proceeds only from one person in the pit. 
 
430 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 been — but the worst is over, I trust, and we shall enter Philadelphia 
 with renewed hope and health. 1 think your father's indisposition was 
 chiefly nervous ; but a physician whom I persuaded him to call in the 
 second week after we arrived, and who went away without writing a 
 prescription, confessed to us the day before yesterday, that when we 
 entered New York the cholera was fearfully prevalent, but every care 
 was taken to conceal the fact ; and that though your father had no part 
 of the disorder, nevertheless he felt what all previously healthy strangers 
 felt, and I might also have experienced a similar feeling, had I not 
 been so very ill just before I entered New York. The disease has dis- 
 appeared since the colder weather, for it is consistently cold now, though 
 brightly sunny ; I can, however, understand now why this climate is so 
 trying to strangers. It is neither the cold of winter nor the heat of 
 summer that injures the constitution of a European, however rigorous 
 both of these may be, but it is the transitions, the changeableness of 
 the weather — one day muslin and lace too much to bear, and the next, 
 flannels and furs insufficient to keep out the severity of the cold. These 
 extremes I have felt already, but the Indian summer is commencing, 
 and I understand that the weather then is not so variable as any other ; 
 not warm, of course, but unclouded and dry. 
 
 When I began this letter I did not mean to dwell upon the subject 
 of the partial opposition endeavoured to be got up by the few who were 
 enemies to the theatre, as well as to your father, because I felt it diffi- 
 cult to make you understand how he triumphed ; but as the scraps from 
 the newspapers will in some part give you intelligence, I shall briefly 
 add, that " The Trip to America " was ibllowed by an appeal by your 
 father to the house, to pronounce whether he was guilty of the charge 
 of abusing the Americans in it, or not guilty ? In answer to this, all 
 the pit, and I may say, every gentleman in the theatre rose, and in a 
 thunder of voices, simultaneously shouted " Not Guilty." 
 
 It was a curious result in a theatre. Much excitement, and, indeed, 
 harass of spirits may be imagined by you out of all this, but I do not 
 attempt to withhold the truth : having told j^ou everything, you would 
 at once conceive every consequence, your father's agitation, &c. It is 
 over now, and there is no harm therefore in this confession. To-night 
 he takes his benefit, and completes this engagement. 
 
 We are inundated by gentlemen-beggars of all sorts. Not a day but 
 some disappointed Englishman applies for money ; all want to go back 
 to their own country, and all, need I say it P require your father to pay 
 their passage home. If he had answered every demand of this sort, all 
 his profits would have been disposed of. 
 
 Your father was shocked, on his first day's abode in Broadway, to 
 find that the " Omnibus nuisance " was threefold what he experienced 
 in London. He, to my amazement, appeared as much a stranger here 
 as myself: everything was as new to him as if he had never been in 
 the country before ; not because it was much altered, but because he 
 had ceased to remember anything ; and he verified the remark com- 
 pletely, that nothing is more new than that which has been forgotten. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 431 
 
 One thin<2: he witnessed which much surprised him, — a trotting-match 
 between two horses in harness, at the rate of twenty-two miles an hour, 
 in three two-mile heats. I suppose this is interesting to every horse- 
 man, and so I mention it for your especial wonder. 
 
 Fop — I have never yet mentioned Fop, I believe. He is at this time 
 well and happy; but he detested the ship, and the sailors, and all 
 nautical sounds. He is immensely admired here by all ranks; and as 
 he is unique, he is considered and looked at as a lusus natures by all 
 untravelled Americans. 
 
 The following address I prepared for your father, he being too 
 anxious and agitated to write anything himself, or to trust to his nerves 
 at the last moment for appropriate words. He spoke it with good 
 effect previously to the commencement of his " Trip to America." 
 
 " Ladies and Gentlemen, — The moment long promised to myself is 
 arrived, and I am about to place before you, in my entertainment called 
 the * Trip to America,' in 1823, the very head and front of my (supposed) 
 offence, when I presumed to use this country, as I have so many others, 
 for the purposes of good-humoured mirth and amusement. 
 
 " It has been insinuated, maliciously, I will say, that I have in this 
 instance misemployed my humble talents in misrepresenting and abusing 
 a country which, in fact, I quitted with the warmest feelings of esteem 
 and gratitude. This evening's trial, I hope, will release me from th€ 
 charge ; and as I shall, in my performance, nothing extenuate, nor set 
 down aught unsaid in England eleven years ago, when first this enter- 
 tainment was given to the public, I trust your candour will give rae a 
 patient judgment, and form your decision. 
 
 *' For a period of fifteen years, during which time these peculiar per- 
 formances have been before the public, I never recollect, except in this 
 instance, having been charged with using my small powers for the 
 purposes of mere ridicule or personal pique. My aim has been to 
 please ; my interest, had my disposition been otherwise, prompted me 
 to avoid giving offence and making enemies. My sketches are strictfy 
 those of manners ; and as amusement is positively required of me, I 
 naturally and necessarily seize upon those prominences of character 
 most likely to afford it. In my several delineations of the English, 
 Scotch, Irish, Welsh, and French, I have unhesitatingly delivered to 
 them upon their own ground, their respective peculiarities and manners, 
 and have never, in a single instanpe, given offence. As I dealt with' 
 them, so I dealt with America : what I found a source of innocent 
 amusement, I certainly made use of; but I never intentionally, or with 
 knowledge, touched upon individual feeling with ill-nature or a desire 
 to wound ; and, least of all, could I deliberately put forth any matter 
 so grossly contradictory to my known sentiments of America, as that 
 insinuated by persons evidently as indisposed to truth as, in this parti- 
 cular case, they were ignorant of it. 
 
 " Ladies and Gentlemen, — I will briefly add, that my reliance is on 
 your kind and patient hearing, and at the most, if I offend, that you 
 will believe I do it uucour>ciously." 
 
4eS2 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONJDENCE OF 
 
 The performance proceeded with general approbation ; and at its con- 
 elusion all present were fully satisfied that the nature of the piece had 
 been misrepresented, and that it really contained nothing whatever 
 offensive to the American people. Your father then addressed the 
 house, and said : — " Ladies and gentlemen : I have redeemed my pledge. 
 I assured you I would deliver the entertainment called the 'Trip to 
 America,' verlmtim et literatim ; I solemnly declare I have not omitted 
 one line, excepting descriptiont? of localities; such as the distance 
 between one city and another, &c. which would have occupied time 
 without being amusing. I made use accidentally of the expression, — 
 * I will put myself on my trial.' I have been fairly judged. Now, 
 gentlemen of the jury, what say you, 'Guilty or not guilty,' of having 
 libelled or ridiculed you?' — *Not guilty!' shouted the whole pit; and 
 he withdrew amidst cheers from all parts of the house. 
 
 A.M. 
 
 After this agitation had so happily terminated, and his attrac- 
 tion proved unabated, something like convalescence appeared, at 
 least good spirits, which (constituted as he was) always bore the 
 name of good health ; and in a short letter to Charles, enclosing 
 a bill of exchange, he wrote, elated with the result : — " I have 
 only time to say that all's well ! My ninth and last night — 
 tirst engagement. I have finished as I began, with glory. The 
 enclosure, as Inkle says, is ' no bad specimen of savage elegance.' 
 Pay it into Cockburn's directly. Love Captain Britton for my 
 sake. Pay him what attention you can afford."* 
 
 To Charles J. Mathews, JEsq. 
 
 Philadelphia, November 14, 1834. 
 My deae Chaeles, — Your father opened here on Monday night to 
 an immense and enthusiastic audience, unmixed with any idea of anger 
 against him, like that dreaded at New York; and to-night he is per- 
 forming for the third time. His success is now certain here and else- 
 where. He is gone to the theatre in better health and spirits than on 
 any preceding night, — for he has not been quit« well since he landed in 
 America. Though he has persevered in performing on the appointed 
 nights, he has not always been fit for so much exertion ; nor will he, 
 I believe, be able to fulfil his original hopes and intentions by working 
 often enough, to render that advantage from his coming which he could 
 derive from more frequent performances. He is not ill, observe, — but 
 he is not well. The climate has not agreed with him ; his spirits are 
 not good ; yet there is no fear of anything worse befalling him than 
 the realization of less money than he calculated upon, had he the 
 strength to work for it. If the climate continue thus to afiect him, I 
 shall encourage his return in the spring ; that is, so as to be in England 
 
 * The captain of the Canada, in which we sailed to America. For this 
 gentleman Mr. Mathews conceived a great partiality. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 433 
 
 before the autumn. What he will receive will be worth coming for; 
 and if not as much as we hoped, we must all, nevertheless, be satisfied; 
 but I cannot allow him to do more than seems consistent with his 
 perfect safety, let what will befall. Those who love him will not wish 
 it ; aud for those who do not, why, what are they to us where your 
 father's health is at stake ?* 
 
 It is extraordinary how quickly the weeks slide on ; although we have 
 little to record, yet we have much to occupy us. I never read, visit 
 little, and still I am never at leisure. 
 
 Philadelphia is a city quite of another character, yet equally to be 
 liked with New York. Its white marble and dove-coloured marble would, 
 I think, vie with Italy. Indeed, you would see much in the public 
 buildings here to admire and praise. The weather is lovely, warm, and 
 sunny. They call November their Indian summer. 
 
 A.M. 
 
 * It will easily be understood that it was a difficult and painful task to 
 write the truth, and yet not seriously afflict Charles, hope still supporting nae 
 and promising a happy change. 
 
 F F 
 
431 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 CHAPTEE XLII. 
 
 Dinner at Pliiladelphia in compliment to Mr. Sheridan Knowles — Mr. Mathews's 
 speech on that occasion — Letters to Mr. 0. J. Mathews ; Mr. Trelawney ; 
 Illness of Mr. Mathews, and prohability of his premature return to England ; 
 reception of Mr. Mathews at Boston — The Scots' Charitable Society of Boston 
 — Letter from Mrs. Pierce Butler to Mr. Mathews ; information touching 
 the Canadas — Letter from Mr. Mathews to his son — Letters from Mrs. 
 Mathews to Mr. C. J. Mathews ; preaching of Dr. Wainwright — Fop and his 
 impudent claimant. 
 
 On our arrival at Philadelphia, a dinner in compliment to Mr. 
 Sheridan Knowles as a dramatist was in anticipation, and Mr. 
 Mathews was invited to it by Mr. Pierce Butler and other 
 leading persons on the occasion. 
 
 In the course of this dinner, Mr. Eichard Penn Smith, one 
 of the vice-presidents, having been called upon by the president 
 for a toast, rose and said : — 
 
 Me. Peesident, — It has been remarked that he who made two blades 
 of grass grow where but one grew before, is an important benefactor 
 of mankind, — and so he is : but, permit me, sir, to add to this just 
 observation, that he who has taken one wrinkle from the brow where 
 the hand of care may have planted two, is, in my judgment, a bene- 
 factor of a much higher order. With these brief remarks I will pro- 
 pose the health of a gentleman, distinguished both abroad and " at 
 home" as one of the highest ornaments of his profession — I drink the 
 health of Charles Mathews, the first comedian of the age. 
 
 This sentiment was received with great enthusiasm by the whole 
 company. When the lively expressions of applause had subsided, Mr. 
 Mathews said : — 
 
 Gentlemen, — I am taken by surprise, and must confess that I am 
 therefore unprepared to acknowledge, in a manner adequate to the 
 occasion, those feelings which now really almost overpower me, for 
 the honour of your invitation, and the kind, flattering manner in which 
 you have drunk my health. I had believed this day to have been 
 devoted to one particular object, and I am therefore convinced that you 
 neither expect nor wish me to occupy your time by addressing you at 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 435 
 
 lengih. As I am more famed for delivering the matter of others 
 than my own, I shall parody a speech of the celebrated French trage- 
 dian, Talma, when a farewell dinner was given to John Philip Kemble, 
 upon his retirement from the stage, and, with your permission, in his 
 manner : — " On a day consecrated to my dear friend {ku^wios, } it will not 
 be expected dat I should be lisen to vid interest, more particuliere as I 
 am not capable to express in your language vat I feel ; but ven de 
 tongue cannot speak, de heart most, and I tank you from de bottom of 
 dat heart for dis honour." — Proud and happy am I, indeed, to witness 
 a day consecrated to my illustrious countryman; — I say countryman, 
 for he is a Briton — and Irish, English, and Scotch, are of the same 
 country, and long may they continue brothers ! It is indeed gratifying 
 to find so many enthusiastic friends to the drama on this side of the 
 Atlantic. This is a cheering sight : this meeting does equal honour to 
 those who give and him who receives. It is calculated to elevate the 
 drama in the eyes of its enemies, and I cannot but proudly feel that a 
 part of the compliment is paid to my profession. I have the gratifica- 
 tion of being able to boast that I am a contemporary of James Sheridan 
 Knowles ; and I share in common with him the delight of witnessing 
 our art upheld by such an assemblage. One thing I selfishly rejoice 
 in, — which is, that your kind invitation has given me an opportunity of 
 an explanation which otherwise would not have been afforded me. 
 Certain calumnies have been circulated against me. It has been asserted 
 in print, that I have caricatured, — libelled, — ridiculed this country : it 
 is false ! Your talented guest of this day can vouch for the consistency 
 of my expressions of gratitude. 
 
 Mr. Knowles bore testimony to the warm and generous terms in 
 which his friend Mathews had invariably spoken of America on the 
 other side the Atlantic ; and alluded to the astonishment wntli which 
 he had heard of rumours attempted to be circulated prejudicial to the 
 distinguished comedian, knowing, as he had every opportunity of 
 knowing, the admiration which Mr. Mathews always expressed towards 
 the citizens of this country. 
 
 Mr. Mathews himself, who was an invited guest, and largely contri- 
 buted to the conviviality of the evening, satisfied the company of the 
 gross injustice that had been done him, and of the utter absurdity of 
 supposing him capable of speaking disrespectfully of a people to whom 
 he is under so many obligations, and for whom he had always felt and 
 expressed the highest admiration.* 
 
 To Charles J. Mathews, Usq. 
 
 Philadelphia, December 3, 1834. 
 We are in the habit of seeing Mr. Trelawney (Lord Byron's Tre- 
 lawney, and, moreover, your friend Sir William Molesworth's cousin), 
 and think him a most agreeable and clever man. He has dined, supped, 
 
 ♦ Philadelphia paper. 
 r r2 
 
436 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 walked, &c., with us; recollects and talks of you; and, in fact, is a 
 sparkling jewel in our way, picked up in this huge mine of dulness. 
 
 I shall, when I next address you, be better able to form an idea of 
 the probable plan which your father's health and experience may find it 
 expedient to determine upon. Boston may agree with him better than 
 these warmer places, and reinstate him sufficiently to allow of his 
 making other engagements, which I pray Heaven he may be able to 
 do. But the transitions of weather are really more surprising than I 
 could believe : frost and snow one day ; the next, summer, and the heat 
 insupportable. 
 
 But I am well, thank God ! and doubly thankful for being so, as it 
 renders your father's indisposition more tolerable to him than it would 
 otherwise be. Fop is also in good health, and fresher in intellect than 
 ever : indeed, he is a most sensible and desirable friend here. He made 
 his first appearance in America a few nights ago, and repeats the 
 character of Dragon in the " Lone House" to-night ! His performance 
 was perfect, and met with universal approval. Mrs. Pierce Butler Avas 
 enchanted with his acting, and she is a judge, and Mr. Trelawney 
 thought him excessively good. Your father is just come home : his 
 benefit was very great. 
 
 Tremont Hotel, Boston, December 7, 1834. 
 I meant to finish this letter during a day's stay at New York, we 
 having intended to halt there Friday night, and resume our journey to 
 this place yesterday evening. Instead of this, finding that no packet 
 sailed until Monday, we were obliged to proceed from New York, 
 merely quitting one vessel for another, with scarcely time to effect the 
 removal of luggage : we therefore arrived here last night. Your father 
 wishes me to apprize you of the possibility, nay, probability, of our 
 return to England by the middle of February. This will surprise, 
 and, I fear, alarm you. But it need not ; for though your father has 
 not been well here, I am satisfied that the climate of England would 
 speedily set all to rights. He is affected, certainly, by climate chiefly, 
 and Dr. Pattison thinks so, too. The fuel disagrees with him ; i\\Q 
 food, and manner of dressing it ; the transitions of weather, &c. 
 In short, Boston is to decide everything : if he is not better here, it 
 will be useless to remain ; since he is not capable of going through his 
 work, and it is distressing to me to see him attempt it. 
 
 I only went one night at Philadelphia to see him, and it made me 
 ill to perceive how great an effort it was to him to get through. He is 
 always breaking into the most profuse perspirations, even on the 
 coldest day : his skin is yellow, and he has fits of wheezing and diffi- 
 culty of breathing, which deprive him of speech for a time, and alarm 
 me (for the time) exceedingly, although I am assured, both by obser- 
 vation and experience, that these attacks are not dangerous. He is 
 lethargic, too, and, at the best, in low spirits. 
 
 The medical men say that the country affects him, and will continue 
 to do so, they think, as in every respect, except the wheezing (which 
 he had sometimes in England), his indisposition is such as most 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 437 
 
 strangers feel in America. In short, if Boston does not tend to improve 
 him, we must return to England; and if J feel it right he should do 
 80, I am convinced you will be satisfied that it is necessary. Yet, 
 believe me, there is nothing serious in his complaint — nothing to alarm ; 
 and were he a private man, he might remain and not suffer materially ; 
 but it is when his time for exertion arrives that he I'eels his illness, 
 and almost incapacity to perform. His success is great, and he is 
 required to renew his engagements at New York and Philadelphia. 
 Every manager in America is pressing him to go to them, but he must 
 positively give up the scheme, unless, as I have said, his health returns. 
 
 Now, my dearest Charles, do not for a moment suspect that 1 tell 
 you anything but the truth, nor imagine that I would deceive you. It 
 is a sad disappointment — that is, it will be — to return with our object 
 only in part accomplished, but it cannot be helped. Nevertheless, 
 make up your mind to the event, which may be averted by the time 
 you receive this letter ; and you need not be told that my wishes are to 
 remain, if we can do so without danger to your father. 
 
 He desires me to say, that under the impression that he will be 
 obliged to return, it will be expedient that you inform Mr. Yates of the 
 probability of his doing his " At Home" at the usual time at the 
 Adelphi ; and he wishes you to see Mr. Peake immediately, for 
 the purpose of asking him whether he will undertake, in concert with 
 you as formerly, to get ready an entertainment for the forthcoming 
 season. If so, you may both go to work, to have study ready for him 
 without loss of time, 
 
 I am well. Heaven seems, in its goodness, to have strengthened me 
 in proportion to the necessity I have found for exertion. Your father 
 declares that ray coming has saved his life ; for that he could never 
 have borne his depressing sensations, or kept up, had I not been present 
 to cheer and assist him. This is consoling and satisfactory. 
 
 And now I must tell you that I have had a drive to-day, and think 
 Boston a charming place. Philadelphia is a very clean and pleasing 
 city, but formal as a draught-board, which it resembles in plan, and is 
 almost as lifeless. Boston is as clean, as bright, but more lively and 
 matured than this or any other place I have seen in America. We are 
 more comfortable in our inn than we have found ourselves elsewhere ; 
 and, indeed, I cannot help reckoning upon your father's improvement 
 under these improving circumstances. Boston, everybody says, is more 
 English than any other place, in its manners and ideas. Prepare to 
 expect us (that is, prepare your thoughts) ; but be not quite assured 
 until I v*^rite again. A. M. 
 
 Boston, December 18, 1834. 
 Your father has appeared at Boston on the 10th, and I should earlier 
 have apprized you of his gratifying reception from a great house, but 
 that this pleasing event had an alloy from his being seized with a 
 hoarseness the next day, which has precluded a second appearance up to 
 this time, to the general regret of wife, manager, and the public. Last 
 
438 THE LIFE AND COERESPONDENCE OF 
 
 night, however, his voice burst from the " palpable obscure" of the last 
 Heven days into clearness. To-day promises a complete dissolution of 
 the ice-bound matter, which, like Munchausen's frozen horn, will, I 
 trust, next Monday, come to a complete thaw of words before a warm 
 and genial audience. 
 
 It is hard to see a heap of shining gold lying ready to be taken up, 
 and to have one's hand held back just as it is opened to grasp the 
 treasure. But though this is to be deplored, I do not allow myself to 
 be quite cast down, and I hope you will not entertain any desponding 
 feelings ; for though the extent of our expectations cannot be realized, 
 yet much more will be effected than the same period in England could 
 have given. The climate must be blamed ; it disagrees with your 
 father. The physicians of the three cities refuse to prescribe for him, 
 and recommend his return to his native air. Your father tells me that 
 he suffered in a like manner here formerly ; but, doubtless, his being 
 then eleven years younger, rendered his sensations less distressing in 
 this respect. He is much better to-day, and I trust he may be able to 
 proceed with this engagement, which promises so well; after which, if 
 he be able, he will enter into another at New York ; but he is advised 
 not to wander far from the ports, where, if he become worse, he can 
 every week find a vessel ready to sail for Liverpool. As to his taking 
 journeys thousands of miles from place to place — to say nothing of the 
 j'atigue and hardship (for such, in truth, it is) of travelling in the " new 
 country," where literally 
 
 "All is uneven, 
 And everything is left at six and seven," 
 
 it is out of the question. Any gain away from the great cities is not 
 to be sought for under his uncertain state of health, and the dismal 
 intervening distances. 
 
 Now, my dearest Charles, I entreat you to be prompt and diligent 
 respecting your father's intimation of a probable necessity for an enter- 
 tainment next year at the Adelphi ; for, though we shall cling as long 
 as possible to this countr^^, yet I would have you consider our speedy 
 return probable, and to expect in every future letter an announcement 
 of the time. 
 
 The weather here last Sunday was twelve degrees below zero, yester- 
 day five, and to-day it is twenty-eight above zero ; so you see what 
 fluctuations we are subject to. This city is superior, as far jis I can 
 judge, to the others in its comforts, its habits, and its people. I have 
 received more attention, and therefore perhaps am more favourably im- 
 pressed. A very charming woman, a person of fortune and the best 
 connexions, has really behaved like an old friend : she is a sweet, mild 
 being, the widow of the gentleman whose carriage carried your father 
 that journey, when he met with the little landlord, whom you will 
 remember in the " American Trip." Mr. and Mrs. W. H. Eliot were 
 with him there on that occasion. She is the image of Lady lieresford, 
 and quite English in her language, intonation, and manner; so that I 
 am happier in Boston than I have yet been. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 439 
 
 Your father has been three months in this country, and has only 
 performed nineteen nights. The managers have all been distressed 
 exceedingly by these interruptions, and play to empty houses while he 
 lies by : the people and their dollars lying by also for your lather's 
 re-appearance. 
 
 Anne Mathews. 
 
 To Charles Mathews, Esq. 
 
 Boston, Dec. 20th, 1834. 
 Dear Sie, — We, the undersigned, at the particular request of the 
 Managers, Members, &c., of the Scots' Charitable Society of l^oston, 
 Mass., are deputed to present unto you this certificate as an Honorary 
 Member of their very honourable and ancient Institution, in testimony 
 of your liberal donation of fifty dollars, received through the hands of 
 Messrs. Ben™. Russell and James A. Dickens, as desired by you. 
 
 In performing this pleasant duty, may we be permitted to communi- 
 cate to you the leelings of those we represent : that your success abroad 
 as well as " at home," may be equal to the benevolence of your exalted 
 and talented mind. 
 
 We have the honour to be, very respectfully, your obedient servants, 
 
 James Kett, 
 James Ceighton. 
 
 The donation above alluded to was left by my husband when 
 he quitted Boston in 1823. It is rare to find an obligation of 
 this kind outlive the time, and I insert it as honourable to the 
 source whence it came. However, this society is composed of 
 Scotsmen, and that partly accounts for the result. This long 
 memory of a boon my husband prized the more, because it 
 added another reason for his love of the Scottish nation. Several 
 other flattering tributes of recollection were given during our 
 stay, equally gratifying to Mr. Mathews's feelings. 
 
 The following letter from Mrs. Pierce Butler* was solicited, 
 not only for the information it contains, but as an addition to 
 my husband's collection of autographs : — 
 
 To Charles Matheivs, JEsq. 
 
 Philadelphia, Sunday, Dec. 21st, 1834. 
 My deab Sie, — I learned with much regret that you are still 
 suffering from indisposition, though I am happy to find that it is not 
 aggravated by quite so many inconveniences and annoyances as 3'ou had 
 to endure in the course of your visit to Philadelphia. The pleasure I 
 derived from hearing of the greater comfort of your surroundings, and 
 hospitality of the people among whom you are at present residing, was 
 
 * Formerly Miss Fanny Kemble. 
 
440 THE LIFE AND COREESPONDENCE OF 
 
 partly owing to the confirmation which your account gave to a previous 
 opinion I had entertained, that the New England folk are far more like 
 the Old England folk than any other set of people in " these United 
 States." It was a source of great mortification to me to be unable to 
 offer either to yourself or Mrs. Mathews any civility but that barrenest 
 of all social ceremonies, a morning call : however, I could not help my- 
 self. Had I had a roof of my own over my head, I hope it would have 
 been otherwise ; but as it was, I placed my situation, during your visit 
 here, down on that long account of inevitable vexations which, as we 
 grow older seems to grow longer, as our patience and power of endurance 
 wax stronger. 
 
 You ask me for information about the Canadas ; I rather hope that 
 is only an indirect way of getting at my abominable handwriting, which 
 I know you desire to have. I hope so, because the information that I 
 can give you will, I fear, prove of very little use to you. We went 
 there, I believe, upon the same terms as everywhere else, i.e., division 
 of profits. Vincent de Camp* had the theatres there, and (truth is 
 truth) of all the horrible strolling concerns I ever could imagine, his 
 company, and scenery, and gettings up, were the worst. He has not 
 got those theatres now, I believe; but they are generally opened only 
 for a short time, and by persons as little capable of bringing forward 
 decent dramatic representations as he, poor fellow ! was. 
 
 You are, however, so much less dependent upon others than we were 
 for success, that this might prove a slighter inconvenience in your 
 instance. Heaven knows the company would have been blackguardly 
 representatives of the gentry in Tom and Jerry : you can fancy what 
 they were in heroicals. Our houses were good; so, I think, yours 
 would be : but, though I am sure you would not have to complain of 
 want of hospitality, either in Montreal or Quebec, the unspeakable dirt 
 and discomfort of the inns, the misery of the accommodations, the 
 scarcity of eatables, and the abundance of eaters (fleas, bugs, &c.) to- 
 gether with the wicked dislocating road from St. John's to La Prairie, 
 would, I fear, make up a sum of suffering, for which it would be 
 difficult, in my opinion, to find an adequate compensation. In the 
 summer time, the beauty of the scenery going down the St. Lawrence 
 to Montreal, and of the whole country round Quebec, might in some 
 measure counterbalance the above evils. But, unless Mrs. Mathews's 
 and your own health were tolerably good at the time, the daily and 
 hourly inconveniences which you would have to endure, would, in my 
 opinion, render an expedition to the Canadas anything but desirable. 
 The heat, while we were in Montreal, was intolerable — the filth into- 
 lerable — the flies intolerable — the bugs intolerable — the people intole- 
 rable — the jargon they speak intolerable. I lifted up my hands in 
 thankfulness when I set foot again in " these United States." The only 
 inn existing in Montreal was burnt down three years ago, and every- 
 thing you ask for was burnt down in it. Pray remember me to Mrs. 
 
 * Mrs. Butler's uncle. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 441 
 
 Mathews. I am glad she likes Boston : I am very fond of it. I have 
 been very happy there, and like the place and people infinitely. 
 
 I am, my dear sir, very truly yours, Eanny Kemble. 
 
 I sign thus because I was told you wish to have my unmarried name. 
 Trelawny is quite recovered. 
 
 On the 29th of December Mr. Mathews (unknown to me) 
 addressed a private letter to Charles from Boston, in which the 
 following forcible and affecting observations on his own state of 
 health and feelings occur : — 
 
 " This will not do. I must come back — I am blighted. I cannot 
 work. I have been eleven days confined here. Siberian weather has 
 set in. Thermometer 10 degrees — sometimes more — below zero, and I 
 jumping from a sick room to a stage, surrounded with blasts (not 
 draughts) of wind. A rhinoceros could not endure it. All the illness 
 of my fitty-eight years of life added up is not equal to the number of 
 days I have been ill here. Porty days' perfect health at sea, succeeded 
 by instantaneous effects of miasma on landing. Your mother the exact 
 reverse — sick forty days, in better health than I have known her for 
 years. From 29th September I have acted in all twenty-two nights. 
 Back I must go, and directly, if I am not dissuaded from fear of bad 
 weather. I play six nights more at New York, and think of returning 
 on the 16th of February. I have done all I can (say to D.) to pay him. 
 God bless you, my dear fellow.. 
 
 Your affectionate father, C. M. 
 
 To Charles J. Mathews, JEsq. 
 
 Jan. 4th, 1835. Boston, Massachusetts. 
 My deaeest Charles, — I hope you have made up your mind 
 to the inevitable result of our premature return home. To-morrow 
 will be your father's last theatrical night here (his benefit) ; and when 
 he has done his entertainment in a room, to enable certain scrupulous 
 Christians and Unitarians, who, like Mawworm, think it " a sin to keep 
 a shop," to patronize him, we go again to New York, where, after he 
 has played six nights, unless something very unexpected offers, and 
 your father's health improves, we positively sail for Liverpool, where, 
 all things agreeing, he will perform. But, as hope is still at the bottom 
 of my Pandora's box, other plans may be formed, and strength given 
 for their execution. Therefore say nothing to any but parties concerned 
 of our probable return, until my decisive letter, which 1 shall write from 
 New York, as soon as all is settled, giving you notice when and where 
 to join us on our arrival in England, where I have happiness awaiting 
 me in your greeting, my beloved Charles, enough to repay any sacrifice 
 past, and to stimulate me to bear all future trials, whatever they 
 may be. ■ 
 
442 THE LIFE AND COERESPONDENCE OF 
 
 I must now tell you that I have been more happy in Boston than I 
 have felt anywhere since I parted from you. Even your fcvther's illness, 
 &c., has been soothed by the attentions and friendship we have found 
 in this place — I especially. A dear woman, one of the highest grade 
 here, a widow, whom I believe I mentioned to you, has been an alFec- 
 tionate and devoted friend, never omitting a day seeing us and showing 
 us every kindness. She has introduced us to her family and numerous 
 friends, and done everything that she possibly could to render us happy, 
 and has so endeared herself to me, that I shall suffer a severe pang 
 when 1 say farewell to her. Indeed I like this city also very much. 
 Boston is decidedly the England of America. 
 
 Your father bids me tell you that Fop is admired everywhere, and by 
 everybod3^ He is indeed handsomer and cleverer than ever. A few 
 days ago some gentlemen on the road (strangers) offered to " exchange 
 two pointer dogs (animals of great worth here), with an addition of 
 fifty dollars," for him ! But Fop, whom you know is a " family dog," 
 was inflexible, and the strangers drove off, convinced that he would not 
 take any money for himself. Questions are frequently asked about 
 him, such as " where he was raised ?" which of course does not make 
 him think little of himself. A. M. 
 
 To the above Mr. Mathews added a few lines, by way of post- 
 script, in further expression of his feelings and situation : — 
 
 I should have sent lOOOZ. but for this calamitous week. *' Destiny," 
 — fate— fatality — call it what you like, pursues me. I cannot, must 
 not, get beyond a certain point. The worst description of ill luck over- 
 whelms me. Every seat was taken in the Boston Theatre, when I 
 totally lost my voice : nine days in one room. On my recovery, the 
 winter had commenced. I cannot describe it to a European. You have 
 never seen anything like it : twenty degrees below zero at night — ten 
 daytime ; houses warmed up to 90 — cold stage at night ; no chance of 
 
 a partial thaw till March. Thank God, cannot reproach me. If I 
 
 was not in his debt, I would not endure what 1 do here. C. M. 
 
 Notwithstanding my husband's general state of suffering, and 
 utter inability to shake off his depression, he was able for a few 
 hours to make the most gigantic efforts to overcome both. On 
 the stage, for instance, for which he would prepare with tearful 
 eyes and painful frame, his audience never felt that they were 
 extracting amusement from a sufferer. Occasionally he would 
 dine out with a very kind friend, Mr. Manners (the English 
 Consul), whom we had known many years before in England, 
 and others, and never allowed his ill health to be guessed at, 
 farther tlum his altered looks betrayed it. He was so attached 
 to Mrs. Eliot and her children, that with them he felt at home 
 and often cheerful. He even did not object to meet parties at 
 her house, as well as at Mr. Augfustus Thorndike's, to whom we 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 443 
 
 were indebted for many valued attentions. At these parties we 
 became acquainted with Dr. Wainwright, whom, as the customs 
 of America would not allow a churchman to visit a theatre, 
 Mr. Mathews took great pleasure in entertaining whenever 
 they met. 
 
 The preaching of Br. Wainwright, as well as his reading of 
 the service, was most impressive and beautiful. His harmonious 
 voice, perfect English, untainted with any local intonation or 
 vulgarism, his benign countenance, and fine mind rendered liim 
 very popular, especially with Europeans ; and my husband, ill as 
 he was, never omitted to attend service when he could possibly 
 go out. To show how strong was his will to rise above his 
 complaint, when not utterly cast down, one Sunday he had 
 announced that it would be impossible for him to go out on that 
 day ; he was not, he said, able to walk to church (tlie weatiier 
 being bright and dry, no carriage had been prepared, and could 
 not then be had in time), and he begged Mrs. Eliot and myself 
 to proceed without him. 
 
 In a few minutes after our arrival, to our great surprise, he 
 entered the pew, telling us afterwards that, considering it would 
 be his last opportunity of hearing service performed by Doctor 
 Wainwright, he had, notwithstanding all his suffering from 
 lameness and want of breath, managed to follow us. 
 
 It happened that this was his last attendance at church ! 
 The doctor's sermon turned on a very affecting subject — the 
 probability that a reunion with those we most loved on earth 
 would form a portion of the joys of the blessed hereafter. My 
 husband wept continuously throughout the sermon, although he 
 seemed unusually tranquil and happy the rest of the day. 
 
 Wherever he went (except when he dined out) his little Fop 
 was his perpetual companion. He derived the greatest solace 
 from his presence and attachment, which was as remarkable as 
 his intelligence was extraordinary. When Mr. Mathews went 
 to church, Fop walked to the door with him, and was sent back 
 with the servant who had followed to take care of him, and on 
 our quitting church, there the little animal was sure to be found, 
 either reconducted by the said servant, or, in case of the man 
 being behind time (of which this creature was a correct calcu- 
 lator). Fop would find his way without him, and appear sitting 
 at the porch (not attempting to enter) when the service was 
 ended, patiently waiting for his master. 
 
 The circumstance of this little creature being constantly with 
 him caused a very ridiculous dilemma and a scene on board a 
 
444 THE LIFE AND COKEESPONDENCE OF 
 
 ferry-boat one day, wlien going over to the opposite shore, 
 during our stay in New York. A large Glumdalka-hke woman, 
 attended by a female " nigger," laid sudden and vehement claim 
 to poor Fop ! She positively charged Mr. Mathews with having 
 stolen him from her. It was soon pretty evident that this lady 
 (whom, I am sorry to say, my husband discovered to be English) 
 had appeared before the American Bar* that morning, where she 
 had been found guilty of " stealing" away her own " brains." 
 In fact, she was tipsy, the only word I dare borrow for a crime, 
 so monstrous in woman as to have no name of its own provided 
 in our language. Well, this unfortunate being clamorously con- 
 tested my husband's right to the little creature, whom she called 
 by the name of some ancient hero ; and, though Fop disdained 
 to " answer" to it, and her " nigger" assured her Missy " dat 
 dis dog, not dat dog " — in other words, not the dog lost — the 
 besotted woman expressed her intention of taking possession of 
 the animal, and a&ked who dared to oppose her will ? For a 
 moment American valour quailed under this defiance ; but in 
 the next. Justice resumed her scales, and the deportment of the 
 lady, the evidence of her black attendant, and, above all, the 
 shyness of her alleged favourite, who was proof against all her 
 invitations and endearments, refusing, moreover, to acknowledge 
 the name with which his would-be mistress dignified him, availed 
 to invalidate her claim, and Fop eventually landed at Hoboken 
 the undoubted property of " his master," while the enraged 
 female staggered from the vessel breathing vengeance, and 
 honouring my poor husband with many epithets not mentionable 
 " to ears polite." 
 
 * The "bar" of a hotel, or steam-boat, or " grocery," is nothing more nor 
 less than a counter covered with spirituous liquors, offering at once a tempta- 
 tion and cheap opportunity to the intemperately inclined. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 445 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 Letters from Mrs. Mathews to Mr. C. J. Mathews ; Mr. Mathews's appearance 
 at New York; anticipations of return home; renovation of Mr. Mathews's 
 health; a "cold snap;" interior of an American house — Letter from Mr. 
 Mathews to the Rev. Thomas Speidell — Mr. Mathews's last appearance in 
 New York — Embarkation for England — Letter to Mr. C. J. Mathews; 
 arrival at Liverpool ; the homeward voyage ; sudden and alarming illness of 
 Mr. Mathews ; a violent gale. 
 
 To C. J. Mathews, Esq. 
 
 New York, Feb. 7th, 1835. 
 I HAVE the pleasure of informing you that your father's health, and 
 spirits also, are renovated in a great degree within the last week. I 
 mentioned to you that he did not feel strong enough for his " At Home," 
 on his return to New York, and, therefore, he was compelled to act in 
 the drama ; and it is to be regretted (too late) that he did not do this 
 first, as well as last ; for, contrary to all calculations, the attraction is 
 such, that a night or so has been solicited in addition to the stipulated 
 number ; and, spite of the frost and snow, he has played in *' Married 
 Life," * three successive nights, to great houses, and he performs two 
 nights next week, and finishes in the same character on Wednesday 
 next, his benefit. 
 
 I went to see him last Wednesday, and I never anywhere heard a 
 more joyous and delighted audience. All this is gratifying, for he will 
 close as brilliantly at New York as he began. " My Wife's Mother" 
 would have been an additional hit, but it .is now too late. 
 
 Since my last letter we have had what is called by the Americans "a cold 
 snap !" again, — such rain, thunder, lightning, snow, wind, and frost ! ! ! 
 In order to be in some measure freed from taps at the door and intru- 
 sive visitors, we have, with great interest, procured a lodging in the 
 house of an English family, very well educated, intelligent, and kind 
 persons, who do all their restricted means will admit of to make us 
 comfortable ; giving us a sitting-room to ourselves, and our breakfasts, 
 teas, and suppers (when we want any) there, but we dine with them. 
 So here we are quiet at least, and have the privilege sometimes of deny- 
 ing ourselves to bores. But when I tell you that it is a corner-house, 
 with one window looking upon the river (of course a really delightful 
 
 • The character of Coddle. 
 
446 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 view, and as such a great comfort to 3'our dear father), two other win- 
 dows round the corner looking into the street — one door opening on to 
 the staircase, another into the next room, and no curtains — you may 
 " guess" pretty well how " Eolus, Boreas, and all the gentle breezes," 
 are excluded ! Next, figure to yourself (having placed these windows 
 and doors, and a fireplace, at equal distances all round a room not larger 
 than my boudoir at the cottage) white-washed walls, with a great 
 number of superannilated nails, that have once " done the state some 
 service," but now, from the absence of pictures, rendered only fit to 
 point out Avhat has been. Then carry your eye to the pier between the 
 twin -windows, exhibiting large gaps in the wall torn away by the 
 absent mirror, reluctant of removal, which once decorated the space, 
 and now possibly transplanted to gayer scenes ; then observe a thin 
 drugget, meanly assuming the name and character of a carpet. A 
 wooden " mantel," ornamented with a pair of curling-irons, left there 
 by the hair-dresser, and employed by your father to " fix" coals upon 
 the fire (no tongs in the house) ; a corkscrew (our own purchase) ; a 
 parcel of used pens; sundry snuff-canisters; a stone bottle, with 
 *' English ink ;" a small glass ink-holder ; a wine-glass of " yesterday's" 
 use (overlooked by the young Irish lady, who does us the honour of help- 
 ing us, when she " fixed" the room in the morning), blushing with 
 shame (or perhaps claret) at its improper location. Then behold six 
 reed-bottomed, ragged, ricketj'- chairs ; a little pier-table, covered with 
 books and newspapers from England ; and a square one, upon which I 
 row write, and you have the complete inventory of our drawing-room 
 (" parlour"), which would puzzle Mr. George Eobins himself to print 
 with any effect. 
 
 The bedroom adjoining is in perfect harmony with this apartment. 
 Last night the drapery, which I insisted upon having put up for my 
 peculiar notions of comfort, and which was nailed to the ceiling by a 
 piece (a bit) of packthread, from which depended a rod of wood resem- 
 bling a stage truncheon which held up the poor thin, unlined, scant 
 curtain — all fell upon my devoted head, and at one fell swoop, covered 
 me with mortar, nails, dust, and crackling calico. Such a fright ! I 
 thought the new world was at an end! Well, with all these con- 
 veniences and luxuries we are obliged to be satisfied, and for all these 
 *' appliances and means to boot" of enjoyment, we pay about as much 
 as we should for rooms at the Clarendon ! But I must reserve some- 
 thing for our evenings at home, and will not surfeit you with sweets, 
 and our advantages over you, but gradually break them to you on our 
 return, when they will serve for sweet discourses lovingly sustained. 
 
 Before I proceed, let me premise that eye and pen at this time 
 combine to render my writing rather obscure, and my English ink is 
 rather murky. 
 
 What your father means to do at Liverpool, before we proceed to 
 London, I do not know, and must not inquire until we are there ; for, 
 though I assure you he is much better than he was, he is yet far from 
 re-established in health, and I am obliged to use great caution not to 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 44-7 
 
 agitate him. The medical men and others all believe that a reaction 
 will take place when he gets to Engkmd, and that he will be as well as 
 ever. 
 
 Still I shall have regrets when I leave this country ; the more than 
 kind Simpsons, and my Boston friends must be ever dear to me. In 
 Mrs. Eliot I leave a sister; and, the idea of parting, as it must be, for 
 ever, is painful indeed. If you knew how amiable and how superior 
 she is, you would allow that I have reason to be proud of her friend- 
 ship, as I am affectionately attached to her. 
 
 My spirits are elated at the prospect of being again united to you, 
 my beloved Charles ; difficulties are to be re-encountered, but I shall 
 again be near you ; and your poor father's health will be restored by the 
 voyage. At all events we shall feel vexations and care lighter in 
 England, after what we have encountered elsewhere ; and, when you 
 are aware of the extent of our sufferings, you will rejoice to have us back 
 again, under any circumstances. I fear to hear of the embarrassment 
 thrown upon you, as to the writing for the entertainment at such short 
 notice. 
 
 Oh ! for an evening of positive privacy ! a room sometimes to myself; 
 the power to pursue any rational plan of passing time without the fear 
 of interruption ! Oh, the first evening that I find myself sitting with 
 you and your father, doors and windows closed, in a chair without a 
 ro(;ker, and a window curtain at my back ! 
 
 God bless you, my beloved Charles ! Pray for us, that my best anti« 
 cipations may be realized. 
 
 A.M. 
 
 New York, Feb. 15, 1835. 
 
 My Dearest Chaeles, — If the "tide serves, and the wind's fair," 
 we quit this country to-morrow morning ; and the enclosed is a small 
 addenda to the work done here, — more properly, a bill of exchange for 
 one hundred and fifty pounds, in consequence of a great house on your 
 father's benefit night, when he and the New Yorkers parted more than 
 in common cordiality with each other, and they huzzaed him, all the 
 audience standing up. He is much better in health ; but may be, and 
 I trust will be, still better after his voyage. 
 
 Now, if the packet which carries the letters, and quits this port at 
 the same time that the " ship Columbus* (by which we sail) departs, 
 — if, I say, by dint of galloping, said packet should take an unfair 
 advantage, it may arrive in England before us. Your father, therefore, 
 on the chance sends this by it, enclosing the bill of exchange (which 
 send immediately to Cockburu's), and a piece of newspaper, containing 
 an account of the last night. 
 
 It is agreed between your father and myself that I shall proceed home 
 without him from Liverpool ;* so remember, if I am well enough, I 
 
 • This plan was in anticipation of Mr. Mathews being well enough to accept 
 an engagement at Liverpool to perform. 
 
448 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 shall proceed forthwith to home, dear home ! Let as much be got in 
 readiness as possible. What a glorious feeling will be the first actual 
 " Not at home" that I shall have occasion to give ! 
 
 I am up to my ears literally, — packing and paying, with a room full 
 of successive callers. I hear nothing but the words, " Columbus" — 
 " delivery of letters," — " east wind," — and dollars. So can no more 
 than add my blessing, and a prayer that we may meet again in safety. 
 My beloved Charles, may Heaven grant that I may find you well ! 
 
 Your ever affectionate mother, A. M. 
 
 And father, C. M. 
 
 To the Rev. Thomas Speidell. 
 
 New York, January 30th, 1835. 
 
 My deae Speidell, — Though I believe you are not one of those 
 friends who exacted from me a promise to write from the dis-nmtedi 
 States, yet I cannot allow you to reproach me on my return for my 
 silence ; nor can I allow my own conscience to be burthened with the 
 reproach of having neglected one of my kindest and most hospitable 
 friends. Therefore be satisfied, — take the will for the deed, — and be 
 assured that I have not selected you for the object of indifference on 
 my part. I have constantly endured pangs on your account, and re- 
 proaches from Mrs. Mathews ; but I hope to draw upon your appro- 
 bation, after all this preface, by telling you that you will be one of 
 four who alone have heard from me. The fact is, that I have been ill, 
 literally every day since October the first ; and my wife never urged me 
 to write during the whole of that period that I did not look at her as 
 if she had proposed the most preposterous undertaking. 
 
 After forty days of uninterrupted health and, boyish spirits, I was 
 attacked on my landing by concealed riflemen, or bush-fighters, under 
 the name of mal-aria, or miasma, or something to be aimed at me like 
 the brave President behind the cotton-bags, without a chance of my 
 knowing my enemy. When I tell you that I have since that date acted 
 but thirty nights, you may suppose how my speculation, in a mercantile 
 point of view, has failed, and the mortification is infinitely greater than 
 a real failure — I mean neglect of the public — for to sickness alone can 
 I attribute my disappointment. I am now playing a farewell engage- 
 ment of six nights, and then I am resolved to return. 
 
 It is my intention to leave on the 16th of February, in the Columbus, 
 for Liverpool. Mrs. Mathews, thank God ! has supported me by 
 having enjoyed excellent health from the first day of her landing, after 
 fort}'- days of sickness. But for her, I believe I must have sunk. My 
 spirits have been so deplorably depressed, that, but for her cheerfulness, 
 arising from health, my burthen would have been doubled. We have 
 had the good fortune, also, to encounter the severest winter since 1787, 
 disputes only arising as to the state of freezing — whether the ther- 
 mometer was thirty or twenty only below zero — or Nero, as the 
 
CHAELES MATHEWS. 449 
 
 niggers say. This climate is only fit for butterflies in summer, and 
 wolves and bears in winter. 
 
 One cause of my depression has been the remorse I have endured 
 from having compelled Fop to accompany me. He is, however, 
 remarkably well, and has been a great comfort to me. 0, dear Speidell, 
 you will find me a converted man. This visit has destroyed all the 
 pleasing recollections of the country. There are a few most pleasing 
 and intelligent persons ; but there are a hundred thousand Irish tyrants 
 at least, who, from a hackney coach upwards, drive you as they please. 
 I congratulate you on the return of the Tories. I wish you could send 
 all the Whigs here. I should like no better punishment than their being 
 compelled to visit America in search of liberty. 
 
 Ever sincerely yours, C. Mathews. 
 
 I here introduce the bill of his last appearance in public : — 
 
 Farewell JBeneJlt of Mr. Matheios at New Yorh. 
 This evening, February 11th, 1835, will be performed the comedy of 
 
 MARRIED lIfE. 
 
 Mr. SuTmuel Coddle, — Mr. Mathews. 
 Mr. Lionel Lynx, — Mr. Mason. 
 Mrs. Lionel Lynx, — Mrs. Chapman. 
 Mrs. Samuel Coddle, — Mrs. Wheatley. 
 
 In the course of the evening, Mr. Mathews will sing the Comic 
 Songs of 
 
 The Humours of a Country Fair, and Street Melodies {a medley), 
 including Welsh, French, Scotch, Irish, African, Italian, Swiss, 
 and English airs, with embellishments. 
 
 After which, an Entertainment by Mr. Mathews, called 
 THE LONE HOUSE. 
 
 Andrew Steward, butler and leader, — Mr. Mathews. 
 Bechamel, a French valet, — Mr. Mathews. 
 Frizwaffer, a German cook, — Mr. Mathews. 
 Cutbush, a gardener, — Mr. Mathews. 
 Captain Grapnell, a naval officer, — Mr. Mathews. 
 
 Doors open at a quarter before six o'clock ; performance commences 
 at a quarter before seven. 
 
 So near a prospect of return to England had the effect upon 
 Mr. Mathews's spirits as almost to give an appearance of amended 
 health ; and so it ever was with him. We dined with our hos- 
 pitable friends, Mr. and Mrs. Simpson, who had kindly collected 
 on this occasion a knot of my husband's favourites (their 
 friends), and amongst them Doctor Holland, an intellectual 
 
450 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 and refined gentleman in any country, Mr. Placide, an Ame- 
 rican actor of great talent ; and Mr. Mason, nephew to Mr. 
 Charles Kemble. 
 
 On this day my husband's warmest and most exuberant feelings 
 arose to make the meeting most cheerful and delightful, and his 
 partiality for his excellent host and hostess led him to exert him- 
 self in a manner that I now reflect upon with wonder. We ex- 
 pected to sail on the following day, but were detained by weather. 
 On the morning of the 18th, when we joined the ship, his spirits 
 again mounted. A number of friends, gentlemen of the theatre 
 and others, came on board to take leave of him, and several 
 accompanied us as far as the pilot went. During the whole of 
 their stay, the deck rung with his sprightly sallies — he was all 
 energy and hilarity, and, as far as his voice could follow the pilot's 
 vessel which took his laughing friends away, he continued to 
 amuse them with his drolleries and overflowing spirits. 
 
 My next letter to Charks will give particulars of our voyage. 
 
 - To Charles J. MatJiews, Esq. 
 
 Waterloo Hotel, Liverpool, March 11, 1835. 
 
 My dearest Charles, — We arrived here late yesterday evening, 
 Heaven be praised ! alter a voyage of nineteen days, having sailed from 
 New York on the 18th of February. The earlier part of our passage 
 was warm* and prosperous, the wind favourable, and our progress 
 surprisingly rapid; a palace of a ship (a ship, mind), an accomplished 
 seaman lor our captain, and every accommodation, I verily believe, that 
 can be possibly given under this dreadful species of imprisonment and 
 torture. Only three passengers besides ourselves — myself the only lady 
 on board ; for females seldom sail at this period of the year, it seems ; 
 nor is there at any time a fire to be had in the ladies' cabin, so unusual 
 and unexpected are female passengers after the warm season. I 
 remained during the first ten days (the time of my extreme suffering) 
 in the apartment appropriated to me, wrapped up in cloaks, and occa- 
 sionally a small feet-warmer to keep mine in vital warmth, only one 
 «tove being fitted up, and that a small one, inadequate to the comfort 
 of even the few gentlemen whose cabin it was in. But this was unim- 
 portant while the wind and weather continued fair. 
 
 Your father was unwell and restless ; but he eat and drank and "got 
 along" as well as I could hope after his severe illness and general 
 indisposition since we landed in America. His cough continued, it is 
 true ; but he was not worse than he had been for some time. I had 
 been w^ell enough to dine two or three days with the gentlemen, and 
 was recovering a little of my exhausted strength, when one da^? (the 
 
 * For the time of year, and compared with the frost we left behind us 
 New York. 
 
 s at I 
 
 m 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 451 
 
 3rd of March) your father's absence after dinner was noticed, and he 
 was supposed to have gone on deck ; but a dreadful groan I'rom the 
 ladies' cabin alarmed us all, and a simultaneous rush discovered to us 
 your poor father apparently in the agonies of death : his face so drawn 
 in and pale, that it was hardly possible to conceive such a change in so 
 few minutes — his hands clenched, and his whole frame distorted with 
 agony. He managed to make me understand that he had spasms in 
 his chest. One of the gentlemen, a Major Young, humanely rubbed 
 hira violently, every one was alike kind and anxious, and ultimately 
 successful in restoring him, though in a dreadfully weakened state, tQ 
 comparative easfe. The captain medicined him as well as his small skill 
 allowed, and he became partially well by night. As for me, it will 
 sufficiently convey to you an idea of my despair and horror, when I 
 tell you that for some minutes the captain and the other gentlemen 
 believed your father dead, in which belief I joined. 
 
 Imagine my misery, for I cannot represent it by words ; I was up 
 the two following nights in attendance upon him, in despite of my own 
 ailings (brought back by this fright), and the entreaties of those kind 
 men, that I would entrust the poor sufferer to their care, and who 
 would partially assist. The captain came several times at night to the 
 berth, and was most affectionately attentive, as indeed he had been from 
 the moment we entered his ship. Thus, with constant care and 
 watching, your father returned to something more like ease than we 
 expected he could, until better advice could be had. 
 
 Unfortunately, the wind and weather changed, and then succeeded to 
 our heretofore prosperous progress, the most alarming and boisterous 
 gales of wind that can be imagined. Friday and Saturday the captain 
 and crew (all in the most unremitting state of exertion) knew not 
 where we were, — the foresail torn all to ribbons before it could be 
 taken down. The whole ship was made bare, and the horrors of those 
 two days and nights can never leave my memory. About Sunday these 
 alarming gales subsided, when the wind altogether forsook, or if not, 
 became adverse to us. I was perforce, after my two nights' watching 
 of your father, confined again by illness to my berth for two days and 
 nights, packed up as the means of preserving me from falling out of it 
 at every motion of the ship, during which your poor father, sufferer as 
 he was, insisted upon watching me, having his mattress placed on the 
 ground by my side. 
 
 We had very bad storms in the Canada, as we thought : they were 
 ripples on the sea compared to this ; and the captain has since confessed, 
 " though he had been a sailor from the time that he was no taller than 
 a musquito, and out in all sorts of weather, he never encountered so 
 serious a gale as this, and that he should have despaired had he not 
 relied on the soundness of his ship." He added that he would not 
 have been in the Canada under such a trial for the bribe of all it 
 contained. I tell you thus much, my dearest Charles, that our present 
 safety may make you more than commonly happy, for it has been 
 decidedly in peril. 
 
 G g2 
 
452 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 I have occupied more of my space in this letter than I ought ; for I 
 have still something to add as to the future. Your father has had a 
 night of much suffering : no sleep — nor I either, as you can suppose. 
 He will not allow of a physician being sent for to-day, but has had 
 Dr. Eattray's prescription made up, which relieved him when so very 
 ill at Mr. Speidell's in order to try its present effect first. His re- 
 appearance in an " At Home" this season in London is not probable, even 
 were he prepared ; and it is more than doubtful whether, ill as he is, he 
 could study had he the materials ready : all is, therefore, for a day or 
 two unsettled. He is anxious for one reason for my return home ; but, 
 of course, I cannot — will not leave him here alone, unless he improves 
 in a day or so, which may be likely from his present quiet and comfort, 
 and the change of climate: in that case I must travel alone. Prepare 
 for me, therefore, my beloved Charles, as I may only give you a few 
 hours' notice of my appearance. Let there be as little to do after my 
 arrival as possible ; for I am wearied with noise and excitement, and 
 pine for a little repose, 
 
 I have performed a painful pilgrimage : may it be received in part 
 atonement for my sins ! You will find that I have pursued it with all 
 possible constancy and patience. My progress has not been uncheered, 
 for I have found friends and comforters even in the barrenness of the 
 land. Selfishly, I must own that I have met with a succession of kind- 
 nesses from the moment I entered the Canada, which have continued 
 without intermission up to the moment of my return ; such interest as 
 places my oldest friends, in a comparative point of view, far inferior to 
 strangers. Were I in love with vanity, I should not wish to return to 
 the cold hearts and hollow professions of the " old world." Nevertheless, 
 I am rejoiced at turning my back upon the " new world" for general 
 reasons, and particularly as it has swallowed up so much of your poor 
 father's health. 
 
 Let not these remarks depress you, for I am not further damped than 
 concerns your father's health, of which I still trust to the restoration in 
 time. I shall write again as soon as I have anything fresh to say — that 
 is, when your father is better or worse, the latter of which Heaven 
 forbid ! He joins with me in a fervent blessing to you, my beloved 
 Charles. 
 
 Your affectionate mother, Anne Mathews. 
 
 P.S. — Write by return, addressed to your father here, because, if I am 
 gone, he will like to have a line from you, and if I am not, it will be a 
 comfort to me. Suspend your brain labour until you get another des- 
 patch from me, and rest your imagination for a day or two. Tell Mr. 
 Yates of the chance against an " At Home" this year without delay, and 
 our arrival here, but do not own when I intend to arrive in London to 
 any one but Sophia, and beg her to be secret, for I cannot be broken in 
 upon at first. Read her this letter with my kindest love. To all who 
 mention our landing, say we are detained at Liverpool by your father's 
 illness for an indefinite period. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 453 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 Mr. Mathews's anxiety as to his affairs — The excellence of his character — 
 Letters to Mrs. Mathews : state of Mr. Mathews's health, and treatment of 
 his medical attendants — Mr. Winstanley's account of the illness of Mr. 
 Mathews — Letters to Mrs. Mathews: improvement in the health of Mr. 
 Mathews ; his endeavour to mingle jest with pain ; preparations for removal 
 to Crick ; the journey thither — Application from the Committee of the 
 Theatrical Fund — Mr. Mathews's reply— Letters to Mrs. Mathews: De- 
 spondency of Mr. Mathews — Letter to Mr. Gyles. 
 
 Business of great importance required immediate and personal 
 attention in London. Mr. Mathews fretted about it, and at last 
 conjured me to go to town, and set his mind more at ease by 
 communicating with him upon its progress, declaring that it 
 caused some part of his illness not to have me transacting an 
 affair of such vital importance to the future. Alas ! he was 
 then morbidly sensitive about money matters ; and, for the first 
 time in his life, considered them in everything. Charles was 
 miserable at not being allowed to join us at Liverpool. His 
 father would not hear of " the expense." In short, the remnant 
 of his property, the Adelphi Theatre, caused him the most 
 intense anxiety. He often reverted to it, and, as if in apology 
 to me, deplored that he had no more to leave me than I could 
 live respectably upon, and that when I might most require it, I 
 must necessarily resign a carriage, to which I had been so manv 
 years accustomed. To preserve this Httle freehold property 
 entire occupied his thoughts day and night. This in a year or 
 two he calculated would pay off what, in one of his calamitous 
 failures, he had borrowed on interest, and thus would be left 
 unincumbered. 
 
 That he was allowed to indulge in this comfortable fallacy 
 throughout his illness, is the most consoling reflection I have to 
 reconcile me to his death. Troubled, indeed, would have been 
 his last days, had the crisis arrived some months earlier, which 
 for the time deteriorated the property upon which he depended 
 
454 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 so entirely for my future support ;* I am gratefully sensible of' 
 the mercy which concealed this from him, whose whole life was 
 one continuous care to preserve those he loved from suffering. 
 Few better merited the prosperity he met with, and few misused 
 the advantages of fortune so innocently. His heart was without 
 guile, his character untainted with a shade even of dishonour. 
 His failing was from not having studied the world's craft, by 
 which want of knowledge he was continually open to the specious 
 and false, for he was trusting and benevolent in his nature, a 
 benefactor without ostentation, a friend witliout reserve. His 
 tender consideration, his unvarying affection for his family, his 
 meekness and simplicity in prosperity, his constancy in adversity, 
 his moral and religious feehngs, of the sincerity of which his life 
 was a practical illustration — his conscientious fulfilment of all he 
 professed, his patient endurance of wrongs, his submissive resig- 
 nation to inflictions, were admirable. 
 
 Writing as I do, after more than two years' reflection,t and 
 constantly dwelling upon his character, I can appeal to Heaven 
 to witness my sincere conviction that I have been unable to 
 detect in it one serious blemish. He had acknowledged failings 
 of temper, deplored more by himself than any other, but they 
 were transient in their effects, and, as it has proved, as much the 
 result of bodily infirmity as of natural sensitiveness. On looking 
 back, I can even remember these ebullitions of a moment as 
 virtues, knowing, from the disclosures after his death, the suf- 
 ferings he concealed under the imputation of a fault}^ temper. 
 Let those who w^ere fond of commenting upon his infirmity re- 
 member his countless excellences, which, while I dwell upon 
 them, teach me to thank God who made him without other alloy 
 to his great talents, and left me without one fear as to the per- 
 fection of his future happiness. He died without earthly riches, 
 it is true, but he laid up treasures in Heaven which will never 
 decrease ; and these thoughts are too precious not to make me 
 satisfied with the result of his good intentions. Had he left me 
 miUions, acquired by hard accumulation, or snatched away from 
 his debtors in the midst of their misfortunes — had he selfishly 
 
 * The cause of this sudden change from success to failure in the Adelphi 
 Theatre (and which lasted only with the cause) was the unprecedented arrange- 
 ment at Covent-Garden Theatre, which suddenly reduced its price of admission 
 to the rate of the minor theatres, thus giving the Adelphi audience the novel 
 advantage of entering a theatre to which they had never before been able to 
 afford admission. Though this eff"ect lasted but a brief period, it proved too 
 long to enable us to support the chance of continued loss. 
 
 f- These pages were, written in the autumn of 1837. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 455 
 
 neglected the needy, or proved harsh to the erring, I should 
 have been less happy than I now am in the consciousness of his 
 deservings and his extensive Christian charity. 
 
 Of all the legacies the dying leave, 
 Remembrance of their virtues is the best. 
 
 But I have suffered my feelings to run away with my pen. I 
 was compelled at length to obey my husband's earnest desire that 
 I would set off for town, and as no very material change had 
 appeared from the time of our arrival at Liverpool, I assented, 
 leaving him to the watchfulness of several attentive and attached 
 friends, upon whose care I had entire reliance. I carried with 
 me, however, a heavy heart, and at the moment of parting, he 
 who had almost insisted upon the act, sunk upon my shoulder 
 into a convulsive expression of feeling. I begged still to stay, 
 but in spite of his tears and sobs, he persisted in the necessity of 
 my departure, and that he should feel better in consequence of 
 knowing that the business he was anxious about was regulated 
 by my attention to it. He would have sent his servant with 
 me, but this I positively forbade, and under these distressing 
 circumstances I proceeded alone to London. 
 
 The succeeding correspondence will describe all that followed 
 my departure, when the dear invalid was all anxiety to proceed 
 to his old friend and schoolfellow, the Rev. Thomas Speidell's 
 rectory, to whom he had written before I left Liverpool to 
 apprize him of his wish. 
 
 The first letter to me was begun by himself, but finished by a 
 friend. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Liverpool, Saturday, March 21st, 1835. 
 
 My deaeest Nancy, — Speidell writes, "Come to Crick, — come 
 when you like, and make up your mind to stay some time there." 
 
 I have the pleasure to tell you truly, that last night I slept from half- 
 past two in my crib until half-past eleven — the first night's rest I may 
 
 call it since I arrived. They have all visited me. Mrs. sat two 
 
 hours with me last night. But for a violent irritation in my feet and 
 ankles, I believe I should have gone through the night without waking. 
 
 The letter was thus continued : — 
 
 My dear Mrs. Mathews, pray don't be alarmed at my finishing this 
 letter. By great good fortune 1 have persuaded Mathews to have advice ; 
 and the reason why he cannot finish this is, that my excellent friend Dr. 
 Bryce, after patiently listening to Mr. Mathews's accurate description 
 of his case from the first attack, has ordered leeches to his chest, and he 
 is now reclined on his chair, with some twenty or twenty-four of those 
 
456 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 gentlemen on his chest. A poultice of linseed is to succeed this; and 
 Dr. Bryce has great hopes that to-night our poor invalid will be able to 
 lie down in his bed. 
 
 The Doctor says, that had he lost a little blood on his first arrival, his 
 legs would not have been affected ; that he did quite right to put leeches 
 on his foot, but that the disorder of the legs is nothing but a natural con- 
 sequence of his complaint. Dr. Bryce is now assisting him most adroitly 
 with the leeches, and feels much interest about their performing properly. 
 He read Dr. Rattray's prescription with great approbation, and seems 
 to have no doubt but in a short time Mr. Mathews will be able to travel ; 
 such is the state of his system at present, that it would not be advisable 
 to hurry him. The Doctor has ordered Mr. Mathews to inhale steam, 
 and I have sent for an inhaler. It gives me great pleasure to have at 
 last prevailed, and I give myself credit for a little management. Dr. 
 Bryce was with me last night. I mentioned to him Mr. Mathews's case, 
 and his obstinate opinion that he knew his own case better than anyone. 
 Dr. Bryce replied, " Then why does he not cure himself?" This I re- 
 peated to-day to my friend, and he almost immediately asked me to bring 
 Dr. Bryce, to my great joy. 
 
 I hope all will now be well. If Mr. Mathews can be relieved from 
 his suffering, and lie down to rest, all other ailments will speedily cease. 
 So make yourself as happy as you can. Don't be too sanguine as to time, 
 and be assured nothing shall be wanting. 
 
 Kind remembrance to our favourite Charles. 
 
 Conclude me, my dear madam, faithfully yours, 
 
 Thomas Winstanley. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Liverpool, March 26th, 1835. 
 
 I am certainly better, and my cough trifling to what it has been. I 
 had the first good night last night in the big bed,* and, but for the in- 
 tolerable trouble of the legs, should have slept, I believe, all night. My 
 surgeon. Dr. Bryce, smoked with me till twelve o'clock ; he has been a 
 great traveller, in Egypt and many other countries, and is very intelligent. 
 My legs are bandaged up to my knees, which is a painful process, and I 
 am undergoing it now, propped up while I write. 
 
 I have just received your long letter. I can't say a word about the 
 time of going ; my legs must be reduced first. Speidell must not expect 
 me till I write to him to say I have taken my place. Don't expect to 
 hear from me to-morrow, for it is a great effort, as I dare not put my legs 
 down. I am supported by the pleasure in perspective at seeing you and 
 dear Charles. God bless, &c. 
 
 C. M. 
 
 * He had caused a sort of crib to be placed by the side of the large bed, as 
 it was easier to get into. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 457 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Liverpool, March 28th, 1835. 
 
 There is no chance of my moving yet. I am sure Bryce is sincere 
 in wishing to get me to Crick ; it is I who feel it to be impossible. I 
 have had a blister on to-day, from which I expect relief ; but it is a foe 
 to writing. Bryce, for his own satisfaction, has called in the most 
 experienced man here.* Winstanley dances for joy at this. He is a 
 very old Quaker ; he perfectly approves of all that Bryce has done. My 
 nights are gradually improving, and I can lie on my back, though a 
 blister all night drawing was not favourable. The old gentleman gives 
 a very cheerful view of my case, but recommends rest here; yet I am 
 glad you have declared yourself, for Mrs. Waldron has threatened 
 to come here and nurse me. I am in a perspiration. I have fully 
 expected her by the mail to-night — only fancy, her without you. I had 
 another long ride yesterday with Lewis. I have great, very great faith 
 in being much better to-nkorrow ; but the dressing of a large blister is 
 not a pleasing operation, and this has been " a bad day for tlbe Honour- 
 able Mr. Wyndham," &c. 
 
 God bless you all. C. M. 
 
 His endeavour always to mingle jest with pain was part of 
 his kind system when absent from me. 
 
 The woman to whom allusion is made at the close of the 
 above letter once attended him as a rubber. This person was 
 always anxious to impress upon my husband's attention her 
 great connexion, and that he was the only commoner she con- 
 descended to attend ; she would ingeniously, as she believed, 
 introduce those boasts incidentally in the course of her remarks 
 upon weather, &c. Sometimes she told Mr. Mathews how Lord 
 
 and Lady B were affected by frost, the Duke of C by 
 
 rain, and the Marquis of D by heat ; but one day, having 
 
 come to the end of her noble list, she observed, during a bois- 
 terous sort of morning, " This is a bad day for the Honourable 
 Mr. Wyndham." 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Liverpool, Saturday, March 29th, 1835. 
 
 On Monday morning I have no doubt at all of my improvement ; but 
 it is, and it will be, very slow. The worst symptoms — the shortness of 
 breathing — are conquered, and I can rest in bed as formerly ; a great 
 point. I am tortured by their keeping the blister open till to-night. 
 This is a horror ; but my " leeches' are cheerful. I have had another 
 
 set on my foot to-day ; I don't mean Doctors . My complexion is 
 
 absolutely ruddy, and I could eat if they would let me. The Canada^ 
 
 * Dr. Rutter. 
 
458 THE LIFE AND COKRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 I see, is arrived. Xow, I do hope Britton will set that affair right with 
 Price.* Excuse more. 
 
 God bless thee and dear Charles. 
 
 Ever, ever affectionately^ yours, C. Mathews. 
 
 In this manner I was induced to remain in London, anxious 
 and waiting from post to post for a summons to Crick, whither 
 on his expected convalescence he was to proceed. 
 
 To H^rs. Mathews. 
 
 Liverpool, March 31st, 1835. 
 
 My dear, dear Nanct, — How good you are to write so much 
 to me. I did not expect a line to-night, therefore the Molesworth was 
 a God-send. If you could know "how low they have reduced" a man, 
 you might fancy my childish joy at any touch of pleasant news. The 
 
 and have set me up. I can't trust myself to remarks ; I am 
 
 truly pleased. Pray cultivate this feeling j^ I know you will for my 
 sake. The attention of all is most cheering. I deserve the Canterbury 
 tale. Lady C. is right not to go to Canada. I am sure you think so. 
 If they did but know how they have worried me by night. I spent as 
 scratching, tumbling, sleepless hoars as Lord Canterbury. I always 
 liked him, and had he been a brother I could not have had my thoughts 
 more occupied than they have been about him. He never will know it; 
 but the sight of her hand had a very odd effect on a mind tottering, at 
 all events, as mine has been. Convey from me how obliged I am by 
 inquiries. 
 
 I have almost been sobbing over your list of kindnesses and your 
 own affectionate expressions. This morning's letter would have settled 
 all doubts as to the folly of your coming here to return to Crick — at 
 least, I hope so. I am better every hour ; but the recovery of strength 
 you are aware is not very magical. My legs are of the proper size. 
 This is marvellous ! My knees since you lett me have been as large as 
 the thickest part of my thigh. It was truly appalling. 
 
 I was nearly four hours in Lewis's carriage yesterday, and could 
 have gone forty miles in my way, I am sure. One of his greys was 
 taken with a pain under his saddle on Sunday, and, as the flurry on 
 Friday before of my getting ready had almost brought on suffocation, it 
 was agreed that I should be got ready for starting — so I was dressed. 
 You have seen a child of about five and a half got up for such a ride, all 
 stiff and uncomfortable, trying to look happ}'; the fingers all poked 
 unnaturally out for fear of crumpling the gloves ; expecting to be lifted 
 into the shay — the lip ready to be poked out if not lifted with ease and 
 nicety. At two on Sunday I was thus equipped, and allowed to sit at 
 the window to watch for the carriage. Every grey pony that showed 
 
 * This "hope" referred to an erroneous report made to Mr. Price that my 
 husband had been implicated in a quarrel which had taken place during the 
 voyage out between the agent of the theatres and a Yankee passenger; and Mr. 
 Mathews wished the captain of the Canada to contradict this. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 459 
 
 his ears round the corner occasioned the clapping of the little hands — 
 " Here he is !" Thirty-five minutes were thus occupied, when lo ! the 
 footman announced that one of the horses had been taken ill while 
 dressinc^. Fancy the rest ; " give me my hat and wig again ;" the sun 
 shining brilliantly too. Lewis came at three to explain ; but the little 
 dear had dried his eyes and got his gloves off, and had his great coat off 
 and folded up in the drawer, and was reconciled. He could have had 
 another horse, but postilion was obliged to turn veterinary. Yesterday 
 made up for all. Your parcel last night almost alarmed me till I 
 opened it ; of course you did not look out for an answer, it having been 
 anticipated by the tria juncta in uno of this morning. Cobb has 
 twenty-five cabin people ready for turning off to-morrow.; think of 
 them to-morrow night. Bryce says I may move this week. It now 
 depends on my feelings ; but be prepared. He says T owe all to my 
 constitution and temperance. No person could have recovered with the 
 inside impaired by rich living with my symptoms. Willy Thompson 
 cheered me last night by three hours' chat. Poor James Henderson 
 died a month ago at Geneva. 
 
 Love, &c. C. Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Liverpool, April 2nd, 1835. 
 
 The deed is done. I have taken two places in the mail, one for me, 
 the other for my legs, and what position I like best. This, I think you 
 will allow, is a sensible plan ; and, after thinking the matter over every 
 way (and three hours' more experience of a carriage to-day, and perfect 
 confidence as to strength), we are all agreed that 1 shall be popped into 
 one carriage, and popped out within seven miles of my new home 
 without anxiety ; therefore, to-morrow night, Friday, April 3rd, please 
 God, I leave my melancholy prison, and on Saturday hope to be fetched 
 at Dunchurch at twelve ; " so no more about." I am in the dark as to 
 meeting you there, of course ; therefore remarks are useless. I have 
 no more to say ; but God bless and reward you for all your care and 
 afiection to me, for I am sure it is boundless, and never will be forgot- 
 ten by me. Greatest love to thee and dear Charley. 
 
 Ever affectionately yours, C. Mathews. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Crick, April 6th, 1835. 
 
 My dearest Nancy, — How grateful to God I feel when I look at 
 the above ! I have looked forward with such anxiety to reach this spot, 
 that I can hardly believe my own senses that my wishes are realized. 
 That dreary dungeon of a bedroom became at last intolerable. Oh, 
 
460 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 what a contrast is this ! I hope Mr. Yarneham* was faithful, though 
 I suppose he did not get admitted ; but Speidell's parcel would. I 
 thought it would be an agreeable surprise to you to see somebody who 
 had seen me, and I hope it turned out well. The way in which 1 bore 
 my journey is perfectly marvellous. After I had taken my place on 
 Thursday I felt a sudden alarm that I had undertaken too much, and 
 did repent me. On Friday I was so weak and low that I studied 
 Paterson as to the convenient places to stop at in the night. As it came 
 towards execution time, I was one mass of nervous tremor, and terrified 
 at what I had undertaken. Lynn had made interest for the mail to 
 take me up at his door. Fauntleroy felt no more ; he could not. " Mail 
 had gone wrong way " was enough for the idlers. They ran to the 
 Waterloo, and my own little knot of farewellers was enough to warrant 
 the reading of the riot act before their arrival. Meshim Mirza, or some 
 such name, was at the Waterloo a fortnight ago, a Persian, and I heard 
 that name actually articulated. You may imagine the rest. I rejoiced 
 when I was safe away, and was fortunate in my strength to adhere to a 
 resolution of keeping awake if possible, and I did. I had thus an 
 opportunity of gazing at Mister Willson " without blushing." Oh, 
 could you have seen him ! He did not resemble " my father as he slept." 
 I do think him very plain. Well, no matter; I may say I felt not an 
 inconvenience, and, I should say, my journey did me service. Up to 
 this moment I have no evidence that I am a sufferer by it. Is not this 
 astonishing? I thought I should get here all along. The Quaker.f 
 they can tell me now, said when he left me, having heard me say my 
 great anxiety was to get on the road to London, — " Poor fellow ! he 
 little thinks what road he's going." You were, of course, not aware I 
 was given over. I did not know, till I began to joke, that I had been 
 in danger. Bryce has very kindly written a very long medical report 
 of my case to Eattray, with all the symptoms, the mode of treatment, 
 with all the prescriptions, &c. Was not this kind as well as judicious ? 
 I am very weak, and my cough still troublesome ; but I do not feel 
 otherwise as if I should want medical aid. Kattray is, however, 
 coming to-day. Wonder knows no bounds ; for they all felt that they 
 only yielded to my obstinacy in attempting to travel for a week to come. 
 The dreaded expense of advice brought me within the verge of eternity ; 
 I may say in a double sense the leeches saved me, and now I must 
 bleed again. By Sir William Molesworth you must send a 30Z. note to 
 Winstanley to-morrow night ; but I am alive. Speidell says you and 
 Charles must come directly. Fop wags his tail at you. His first lawn 
 since August delights him. 
 
 Yours has just arrived; and I have only five minutes while postman 
 waits. We are very sorry ; but, of course, can say no more as to our 
 disappointment. As to wanting you as a nurse, the above will prove to 
 
 * A gentleman whom he travelled with, who, though a stranger, showed the 
 most humane and valuable attention to him during the journey, 
 t Dr. Butter. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 461 
 
 you I do not. I have not time for more remarks ; come as soon as you 
 can. God bless you both, my dear loves. 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 Tell Charles there is no cure for his complaint, and no relief from 
 medicine. Leeches or lancet alone will do. Don't believe in any drug. 
 I wish Charles Young were at home : he could tell him. I grieve — 
 truly grieve, at an attack at his age. No reward here for temperance. 
 
 A.n application from the Committee of the Theatrical Fund 
 had, of course, been answered by myself, expressive of my hus- 
 band's deep concern that he was unable to give his customary 
 assistance at the anniversary dinner. 
 
 The day before it took place he felt able to write, and a copy 
 of the following letter has been furnished me for insertion by 
 my husband's old and esteemed friend Mr. Farley : — 
 
 To the Committee of the Covent Garden Theatrical Fund. 
 
 Crick Rectory, Daventry, April 7th, 1835. 
 
 IVfY DEAE Beetheen, — I need not say how much I regret I cannot 
 be with you to-morrow. You all know my sincerit3'', when I say my 
 heart will be there. I vainly flattered myself that I should take you 
 all by surprise, and present myself last week, " armed at all points ; " 
 but alas ! I knew not my own weakness. As I am now so near you, I 
 could not endure the thought that you should remain in utter ignorance 
 of my situation, or imagine I was indifferent, or neglecting you without 
 good reason. The newspapers too, I understand, have announced my 
 arrival in London, &c. Therefore, as I thought it probable that, on the 
 day of the anniversary dinner, inquiries might be made by the visitors 
 of the stewards, I felt some little anxiety that you might briefly inform 
 them of the cause of my absence, and say the information came from 
 myself. On the 2nd of October last, I sickened at New York ; I felt 
 blighted, my energies withered, my appetite destroyed, my spirits 
 broken. I was not confined to my bed one day ; but I was never in 
 health one hour from the time of my arrival until I quitted America. 
 
 In December, I announced to my wife ray convictions that I must 
 fly or die. I could not play out my engagement at Philadelphia. I 
 performed one night at Boston to a great house ; all the tickets were 
 sold for the second. I could not appear, and was confined nine days. 
 When I came out again the thermometer was at twenty-four degrees 
 below zero. I stood at my table one hour and a half; and the bolt of 
 ice that entered my head, and extended to my feet, has, in fact, re- 
 mained in my lungs until this present moment unthawed ! From my 
 landing, 30th September, till I fled, 18th February, I performed in all 
 thirty-two nights. I had the satisfaction of concluding as I commenced 
 at New York, to one of the greatest, if not the best house of the 
 season. The Americans and I parted friends on the night, I believe 
 
462 THE LIFE AND COERESPONDENCE OF 
 
 now to have been the last upon any stage,* and my spirits were cheered,* 
 but I landed, " poor old Mathews," indeed, at Liverpool, broken down 
 (very feeble for eighty) with inflammation of the lungs, asthma, swelled 
 dropsical-looking legs, and, in fact, at one time was given over. 
 
 These are the facts. I have rallied against the predictions of the 
 Liverpool physicians, and to the amazement of all who surround me ; 
 but I am robbed of all energy, I am weak as an infant, and my stock 
 in trade, my hitherto leathern lungs, give strong indications of being 
 under the influence of the Bostonian shaft of ice with which I was 
 stricken in January. 
 
 Mrs. Mathews, who was compelled to leave me when I was pro- 
 nounced out of danger, has been exceedingly ill herself since her arrival 
 in London ; and it struck me to-day that she might not have communi- 
 cated my exact situation to any of my good fellow-labourers in our great 
 cause. I have removed, as far as this, by easy stages, where I have 
 excellent advice, and shall remain for a few days. 
 
 God bless you, dear fellows ! If I could be wheeled into the room, 
 I do think I could sing one song to-morrow ; but, perhaps, I had better 
 not try. Do, one of you, good boys, write me six lines on Thursday, 
 and say how all went off; directed as above (saying also Northampton- 
 shire). Success — success- — huzza! lam doubly hipped. Let all the 
 stewards sign it. Farewell. Remember 
 
 PooE " OLD Mathews." 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Crick, Sunday, 1835. 
 
 My dearest Nancy, — I hope we shall see you on Tuesday. I am 
 much better. I have been occasionally so ill and desponding this week, 
 that I did not wish you to see me. My feet have been two masses of 
 swelling and inflammation, and the irritation enough to drive any one 
 mad. The poultices, as large as quartern loaves — the only chance I 
 had to get rest, as they preserved my feet from the ferocious attack of my 
 own nails. Then the old afftiir, gout or not, has prevented my moving 
 without being wheeled about. The original disease, I believe, to be 
 now nearly conquered, and I am to-day truly better in every respect. I 
 went as far as Daventry yesterday to see Rattray. To-day I am a victim 
 to calomel. The cough almost gone, and no shortness of breathing. 
 
 I have more than one or two reasons for fearing I cannot act much 
 longer, if at all. 
 
 These things weigh upon my mind night and day, and impede my 
 recovery of strength. Your tone of courage, I fear is mere bravado, 
 to encourage me. Therefore, I should like a well-considered answer to 
 my question from you and dear Charles.f I do not doubt you will be- 
 
 * This augury was correct — it was his last ! 
 + This question, as well as other allusions obscure to the reader, involves 
 the feelings of existing persons, whom it would be painful to me, as useless, 
 to wound by explanation. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 4G3 
 
 Keve me, that if it pleases God to restore my stren<>th (and memory) 
 1 will work to prevent my leaving you, as I fear I should, had I died 
 at Liverpool, and I would do it as willingly for Charles as if he were 
 only three years old. I consider that as much my duty as ever, for I 
 cannot reproach him with his ill luck ; but need I say I am most un- 
 fortunate. 1'he trip to America I thought my only chance left. Look 
 
 at the result— and my annihilation now. Oh ! that D could but 
 
 see it in the right light, and believe the fact, that integrity as regards 
 him has almost, if not quite, killed me. 
 
 If you come on Tuesday, let us know, as I will fetch you ; and when- 
 ever it is, Speidell is to take me the same day to Sir Charles Knightley, 
 whose leg was broken by his horse dropping down dead in a gallop, and 
 fallinjr on him. 
 
 To H. B. Gyles, Esq. 
 
 Crick Rectory, Daventry, April 23rd, 1835. 
 
 Deae Gyles, — 1 am, thank God, recovering, after a desperate 
 struggle of more than a month ; indeed, I may say that I have been a 
 severe sufferer, from the 1st of March until the 15th of April, the first 
 eighteen days of which I never went to bed. Inflammation of the lungs, 
 asthmatic symptoms, produced a sensation of suffocation the instant I 
 was placed in a horizontal posture. I was pronounced dead during the 
 voyage (but I never was dead). Luckily we had a beautiful passage of 
 only nineteen days (we had forty going out), and landed early in March, 
 in hopes of change of climate restoring me. I became, however, in- 
 stantly worse ; and suffered horrors, paying off old scores, and making 
 up, as it were, for years of health. I did not know till I partially re- 
 covered, sufficiently to move here, that I had been given over by two 
 physicians at Liverpool. My recovery is a wonder. But I am totally 
 incapable of attempting anything professional. My " At Home" has 
 been abandoned ; and, in i'act, I have lost a year's income by my fatal 
 trip to America. In six months I performed thirty-two nights, and 
 went there with every rational hope of setting all affairs right for life. 
 I felt a conviction that die I must if I stayed, but did not anticipate 
 such ill fortune on my return. 
 
 I fear my lungs have done their do. I felt withered and blighted by 
 the Siberian winter of America, and fear I shall never quite recover it. 
 Now I will explain my inuendo. Since I came here, a physician said, 
 " the change of air has done all for you here, I do believe. If I were 
 you, I would go, when I moved, to the sea-side, and get some warm 
 salt-water baths," &c. In about forty-eight hours comes your letter ; 
 and, I will say, I was really pleased to see it, because I don't want 
 another niche in my misanthropic calendar. Now I can ask you to deliver 
 a message for me, for I dcm't know how to direct to him. If it is con- 
 venient to him, and he recollects asking me, and was sincere, and he 
 would really like to see me, &c., I should of all things like to come in 
 some part of May. I should in that case go across from hence to Ports- 
 mouth, and go thence per steam. 
 
464 THE LIFE AND COEKESPONDENCE OF 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 Mr. Mathews's departure from Crick — His journey to Oxford — Embarks for 
 Plymouth — His arrival there — Mr, Harris's report as to the progress of Mr. 
 Mathews's illness — Letter to Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Mt stay at Crick was again unsettled by the same consideration 
 of business in town, which urged my husband to enforce mine 
 and Charles's return ; he thinking himself better, and proposing 
 to proceed to Devonshire to visit his bachelor friend, where he 
 felt the presence of a lady would prove an inconvenience. Charles 
 and 1, therefore, took a reluctant leave of our dear patient, leav- 
 ing him prepared to depart from Crick also in a couple of days 
 after ; previous to which our host was unexpectedly and sud- 
 denly compelled to visit London on business. 
 
 To the Rev. Thomas Speidell. 
 
 Crick, May 11th. 
 
 My dear Speidell, — When you requested I would write, I pre- 
 sume you meant that I should announce the time of my departure 
 from dear Crick. I have therefore waited for the purpose of informing 
 you that I have the decency at length to depart, having performed the 
 part of Sponge to the life, and with ease, in less than six weeks. 
 Indeed, had you not in your romantic hospitality pressed me to stay 
 so often, even after your departure, I should be ashamed to acknowledge 
 the extent of my presumption, while I should think it my duty to express 
 my gratitude. 
 
 The reason of my stay after the departure of Mrs. Mathews and 
 Charles, was, that Fawcett, with whom I stay a day or two, could not 
 get home till Sunday, nor did I know it till that day, — and that the 
 steamboat days are Tuesdays and Fridays ; so that I must have spent 
 all Sunday in Oxford, in preference to the rectory (for which you will 
 think me too good a judge), or left Crick to-day for Oxford, with the 
 great doubt of being in time for the Plymouth boat on Tuesday. 
 
 I shall now have ample time, and therefore have taken my place 
 for to-morrow, — proceed on Wednesday to Winchester, where Fawcett 
 meets me, — and embark on Friday. I am so afflicted with shortness 
 of breathing, that I am in horror of a relapse; but this enh^e nous. I 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 465 
 
 have once or twice wavered as to going to town ; but I am too weak 
 to encounter the cares that would crowd upon me at home, and this I 
 soon discovered when I talked upon business here. I say all this, dear 
 friend, to excuse m^'self a little in your eyes, for my horrible encroach- 
 ment on your good-nature. 
 
 I did the honours j'esterday in your absence, to the best of m}' ability, 
 though albeit unused to the luncheon ceremonies. Mr. Bird did the 
 
 duty in the morning, and Mr. afternoon, — with the utmost timidity, 
 
 I should think, from his manner of taking refreshment. He had a large 
 congregation, and told me that the size of the church almost frightened 
 him, he being used only to small ones. He was greatly fatigued, and 
 doubted whether he had made himself heard. 
 
 I have, in addition to your great kindness and attention to me, to 
 record the unceasing watching and petting of your servants. Messrs. 
 Smith, Cotter, and Hodgson have called ; and I have been once out in 
 the gig to call on the latter. I had hoped to have seen some of the 
 Rattrays. Daventry was too far for me, on the chance of seeing the 
 doctor, and therefore I must quit with the load on my mind of my affair 
 with him. I have written to him to say, I have left the delicate subject 
 in your care and keeping. Pray talk it over with Mrs. Mathews. I 
 never was fit for money matters. My impression certainly was, that I 
 had sent for him professionally, and had no opportunity of offering him 
 a. fee, as he refused before, unless he wrote a prescription. I leave my 
 honour in your hands. 
 
 And now, dear Speidell, allow me to say that I never can forget your 
 unwearied affectionate attentions to me: — they are engraved on my 
 heart, be assured. You have saved my life, if it be but for a short time, 
 by the aid of your hospitable roof. 'Tis but a poor commodity ; but if 
 you could be placed in a situation to want it, you should be welcome 
 to the wear and tear of it. 
 
 God bless thee, thou kindest of friends, prays your ever grateful and 
 sincere friend, 
 
 C. Mathews. 
 
 Alas ! this excellent and dear frieud outlived the writer of the 
 foregoing letter but a few months. Mr. Speidell died suddenly, 
 from an attack of spasms, at his rectory, to the grief of all who 
 had known him. In quitting the world before him, my dear 
 husband escaped the severe pang of losing one whom he loved 
 as a brother ; and I have to thank Heaven for this mercy added 
 to the many sorrows that the sufferer was spared by his own 
 timely removal from this world of trial and sadness. 
 
 To Mrs. MatJiews. 
 
 Royal William Victualling-yard, Plymouth, 
 Saturday, May 17th, 1835. 
 My dearest Nanct, — I have just now time to keep my promise, 
 and you from suspense, by announcing my safe aiiival. " I never was 
 
 H H 
 
466 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 sick Jioll the way." I believe I slept fifteen hours out of twenty, and 
 am as well as I could have hoped. Beautiful situation — very fine garden, 
 which suits both me and Fop. Franklin brought his own boat to the 
 «teamer to meet me, and 1 had neither trouble nor anxiety. Gyles was 
 here to welcome me, and little Russell ; in short, everything is right 
 comfortable, and you would be as satisfied to leave me here as at Speidell's. 
 ] will have immediate advice, and proceed at once to a system and course 
 of treatment, until I perceive some amendment of the now worse leature, 
 shortness of breathing. 
 
 I have not time now to give my final instructions about the things to 
 be sent, but will in my next. 
 
 If Winstanley is not gone from London, show him the following ex- 
 tract from Dr. Bree on asthma : — " The mind of an asthmatic is impa- 
 tient, and suffers much from an opposition to his own method of 
 management; after several accessions he has ascertained modes of 
 comfort and gratification, which the anxiety of his friends may impede 
 rather than promote by their solicitude and attentions. He therefore is 
 irritable, and with difficulty restrains his disposition to petulance, and 
 absolutely repels the most cautious attentions of friends." 
 
 Fawcett, like a good i'ellow, drove me to Gosport ; and now, dear, dear 
 wife, be assured I will do all in my power to recover and keep myself 
 up. God bless thee and dear Charley. Mrs. Gyles sends her kindest 
 regards. 
 
 Ever affectionately yours, Chaeles Mathews. 
 
 Since writing the above, I have seen Mr. Snow Harris, who seems 
 confident in putting me immediately into a course that will restore me. 
 He speaks very cheerfully. 
 
 The above extract from Dr. Bree is one of those instances, of 
 which I could quote many, of m y husband's generous regret 
 when he thought he might have seemed rude and unthankful 
 for well-meant attention and service. To me, who knew so tho- 
 roughly the nature of the apologist, it was very touching to 
 find him indulging in after-thoughts like these, at a time when 
 the mind is generally apt to turn only upon the sufferings of the 
 body. But instead of this selfishness, upon the first pause, a 
 sort of tender compunction seized him, and a desire to make 
 some excuse for any abruptness of manner or opposition to 
 advice and opinion into which he might have been betrayed to- 
 wards a kind friend. It was ever so — he could not seem un- 
 justly angry or ungracious without feeling deeply himself when 
 it was over. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Plymouth, May 18th, 1835. 
 Dear Madam, — Mr. Mathews has been prevailed on by my advice to 
 apply a large blister over the chest, and to resort to some internal 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 467 
 
 remedies requisite for his health. We cannot, therefore, permit him to 
 undergo any sort of mental or bodily excitement for some days. 
 
 He appears to me to have greatly improved since his first attack at 
 Liverpool, but as is irequently the case with diseases affecting the chest, 
 symptoms of distress in breathing will occasionally show themselves. 
 Without cause for great alarm on your part, therefore, I may perhaps 
 be allowed to say that a slight return of these oppressive symptoms has 
 taken place since his arrival here, brought on probably by the fatigue 
 incidental to a long journey and voyage. We confidently hope, however, 
 that they will effectually be relieved by treatment and perfect quiet in 
 the course of a few days. There are favourable signs of amendment 
 even this morning. I beg you to believe that Mr. M.ithews is under 
 the care of friends here who highly regard and prize him, and who 
 will not leave anything undone which may contribute to his health and 
 comfort. 
 
 Mr. Mathews is anxious to reply to the communications which he 
 received last night, but we really cannot allow him to undergo the mental 
 excitement which they necessarily imply. We must keep him altogether 
 quiet just at this time. 
 
 I am, dear madam, very faithfully and respectfully. 
 Your humble servant, 
 
 William Snow Haeeis. 
 
 My deaeest Nancy, — I have directed this that you might not suffer 
 a suspense in opening it. I am only suffering under a huge blister, which 
 has kept me in bed, I dare not even read all you have written till to- 
 morrow. Love to dear Charles. 
 
 Ever affectionately yours, . C. Mathews. 
 
 I have Sir G, Magrath, physician, as well as Harris. 
 
 These communications, however satisfactory they might seem 
 to others, only gave me a fresh anxiety to rejoin him, and I wrote 
 to entreat to be permitted to do so, dreading to act without hia 
 consent lest I should agitate him, which I was warned not 
 to do. 
 
 To Mrs. Mathews. 
 
 Plymouth, May 2l8t, 1835. 
 
 My deae, deae Love, — Be assured that if there were any necessity 
 for your being with me, I would not allow of a separation. I have had 
 a solemn promise from both my doctors to warn me if I was in any 
 danger, and in that case I meant to send for you or go to London. They 
 both declare I am better than when I came, and do not doubt my being 
 speedily better. The weather is now quite like summer — absolutely 
 warm. I have been out yesterday and to-day. Yesterday nine miles. 
 It is the treatment — the immediate use of an immense blister — and exer- 
 
 u II 2 : 
 
468 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 tion that has affected me more than new symptoms. As to Willson, 
 nothing shall make me submit to him.* My legs are, thank God! 
 recovered. I sleep well. Harris puts me to bed, and attends me before 
 I am up. What can I want with a nurse ? I assure you, dearest, your 
 coming would be the greatest inconvenience. F. is a bachelor. You 
 could not be accommodated. To be moved again would be a horror to 
 me. Never had man such an attentive medical attendant. You would 
 be in the way were you to come, and I cannot reconcile the expense. 
 There is no new feature in my case, and the old ones are all mitigated. 
 Mrs. Gyles is a nurse also. She has made me jellies, and some of the party 
 are always with me. At all events, wait patiently till Monday, and I 
 will then speak decisively as to the future ; but I have faith in being well 
 enough to remain alone. Writing yesterday was out of the question, and 
 I did not like a strange hand again 
 
 This 'etter is continued in another hand. 
 
 The above blot is mine, and I confess it.f We are all of opinion here, 
 except the invalid, that symptoms of improvement have manifested 
 themselves. He, however, appears to think that it is time to enter upon 
 a system of tonics, and we all know, that when the best doctors have 
 considered a case and prescribed for it, that the old axiom of every man 
 at forty being either a fool or a physician, means simply, that nature has 
 her own remedies in reserve, and is eager to suggest them. 
 
 The weather is extremely fine, and that, combining with the novelty 
 of the scene, may aid his spirits and amuse his imagination, tending 
 eventuallj', though not so rapidly as we all desire, to that happy resto- 
 ration of health which is essential to both your enjoyments. The 
 season, and I think I may confidently add, the undoubted skill of his 
 medical advisers, promise a happy result; therefore, my dear Mrs. 
 Mathews, rest satisfied that, surrounded by his friends, and assisted 
 by the best advice, your dear husband may be considered on the 
 mending hand. H. G. 
 
 My dear Mrs. Mathews, — I can only repeat what my husband 
 has said before in regard to your dear husband, that every earthly atten- 
 tion that old friends can give he shall have; and I do think that in a 
 few days we shall be able to give you a good account of our endeavours 
 to restore him to us all again. The situation here is everything you 
 can desire, and you may depend upon our care. With kind regards to 
 Charles, believe me, dear Mrs. Mathews, 
 
 Yours afiectionately, Charlotte Gyles. 
 
 Thus was I beguiled, and thus was I prevented from doing 
 what I felt I ought not to have been denied. 
 
 * I had suggested that he ought to have a person about him to whom he had 
 been accustomed, and proposed his late servant, not being at the time wholly 
 acquainted with all my husband's reasons for discharging him. 
 
 t A feint, as I afterwards learned, in compliance with my husband's desire, 
 that the sudden disability which had caused the blot should be concealed from 
 my knowledge. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 469 
 
 CHAPTER XL VI. 
 
 Formal announcement to Mrs. Mathews of the impossibility of her husband's 
 recovery — Mr. Wightwick's recital of the progress of Mr. Mathews's dis- 
 order — A happy evening — Final interview between Mr. Mathews and his 
 son — Mr. Mathews's conversation in writing — His night-visions — Delusive 
 symptoms — His last words — His death — The last mournful ceremonies — His 
 monument. 
 
 In consequence of an intimation sent unknown to him to apprize 
 me of his dangerous state, I and Charles hastened to Plymouth 
 with feelings of the most miserable description, when, notwith- 
 standing all my husband's opposition (from prudential motives) 
 to admitting those about him whom he loved best, after the first 
 surprise of arrival was over, the dear sufferer declared his satis- 
 faction. From that moment 1 was his constant and exclusive 
 attendant, and O what soothing reflections are those to my dis- 
 consolate mind, that he would from that time only allow me to 
 nurse him ! Such thankfulness, such gratitude did he show, 
 and such affection during my task ! But of this I must nob 
 write. 
 
 After a few days I was formally summoned apart from my dear 
 husband, and informed by the physicians of the utter impossi- 
 bility of his recovery. Who shall describe the agony of that 
 moment ! and yet, after the first burst of anguish, and I had 
 stifled a part of the emotions excited, I presented myself before 
 the dear object of my care as if I had nothing new upon my 
 mind ! Nay, I attended him for weeks after ; and, in spite of 
 every evidence of his danger, entertained hope to the very last 
 hour of his existence ! 
 
 At length his doctors advised a removal, not only for a change 
 of air, but in order that their patient might be nearer to them, 
 and therefore more promptly and frequently visited in case of 
 necessity. Even this proposition failed to startle me, and I took 
 advantage of one of his least suffering days to convey the poor 
 invalid to a lodging in Plymouth. 
 
 I am quite unequal, even at this period, to recount the pro- 
 
470 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 gress of my dear husband's disorder, and again refer the reader 
 to Mr. Wightwick's faithful and interestmg recital. 
 
 He several times toolc leave of his family and friends under the con- 
 viction that he was dying. On one of these melancholy occasions I 
 was present. A paroxysm, of frightful violence, suddenly came on, 
 accompanied by alarming faintness. His fondness as a husband, father, 
 and friend, was most affectingly manifested in the sad farewell which he 
 fancied he was then taking, and the condition of his soul was impres- 
 sively shown by the prayer which, with uplifted hands, he addressed to 
 his Maker. His surgeon alone maintained his composure, and bade us 
 qualify our emotions, under the reasonable expectation of his getting 
 through this, as he had through other fits of equal violence. It was 
 impossible, however, for the unprofessional mind to regard his death- 
 like struggle as less than it seemed to be. The words which he uttered 
 were of too domestic and delicate a nature for publication ; neither shall 
 I set down the words of his supplication. A preparation of ether was 
 administered. Its reviving efi'ect first prompted him to question the 
 kindness which restores, only for additional suffering, a man who had 
 resigned himself to death. In a few moments, however, gratitude 
 superseded regret, and in a quarter of an hour after he had been at 
 the worst, he was as well as at any time during the last two months 
 of his life. 
 
 He delighted in affording an agreeable surprise to his friends, as the 
 following fact will show : — His medical attendants had left him one 
 morning exceedingly ill, and without hope of his leaving his bed for the 
 day. Such was their anxiety that they shortly repeated their visit, 
 and proceeded immediately, as a matter of course, to his bedroom. 
 There he was, to all appearance, lying as they left him, with little more 
 than his nightcap visible above the clothes. In short, there was nothing 
 beneath them more than a stuffed mockery, for the man himself had 
 arisen, shaved, washed, neatly dressed himself, and walked unassisted 
 down stairs into the sitting-room, where he received his surprised 
 visitors with a significant "Aha!" 
 
 I called upon him one evening, and took the liberty of introducing a 
 I'riend. During our stay several visitors from time to time came in. 
 It struck me that Mathews was more than usually irritable ; I caught 
 his eye, and he beckoned me to a close parley — " I don't know whether 
 you are aware of it, but I have observed that your friend has given up 
 his seat successively to each new comer since your arrival. He has now 
 occupied for a moment every chair in the room except one, and I wish 
 you'd ask him to secure that, and not suffer the next comer to take it 
 irom him. It is really hard upon him, because he gets no thanks, and 
 I am sure he must be tired, if it is only from bobbing up and down. 
 You can't think how it fidgets me. Now, pray ask him to sit down and 
 hold fast." 
 
 In the latter end of June he removed from the Victualling-yard to a 
 lodging-house in Lockyer-street, Plymouth, where he was within a 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 471 
 
 short distance of the Hoe, so remarkable for its elevated promenade and 
 the noble prospect which it commands. To this charming spot he was 
 several times carried in a wheeled chair, and he would sit watching the 
 numerous vessels ever sailing in all directions, more particularly looking 
 out for the little pleasure-boat of his friend Mr. Gyles. He had been 
 on three or four successive occasions disappointed in not seeing it, and 
 thwarted curiosity was (as usual with him) becoming irksome beyond 
 endurance, when positive " articles of agreement" were entei*ed into by 
 the respective parties, that each, at a certain time, should be in a certain 
 express locality. " Now, is that Gylly's boat ?" said Mathews to Mrs. 
 Gyles. Mrs. Gyles could not tell. " Humph ! well, that is odd ! 
 Here's a woman don't know her husband's boat." He, however, espied 
 the boat at last, and watched it with that ever lively and child-like 
 interest which constituted his success as a sketcher of men and 
 manners. 
 
 He did not, like commoner men, " get accustomed" to things. His 
 extractive power was such that it never admitted the exhaustibility of a 
 subject while the subject retained " a local habitation and a name." 
 The tacks of Gyles's boat were with him so many emblems of the shifts. 
 of men when the winds of fortune and the tides of circumstance are not 
 directly in their favour ; and I have no doubt that Mathews was one of 
 those speculators who often anticipate from accidental metaphor the 
 nature of moral operations. 
 
 I was with him several evenings during his stay in Lockyer-streot. 
 "During his stay in Lockyer- street !" How thoughtlessly was that 
 last sentence penned ! where, then, was the spot of his next sojourn P 
 But I anticipate my conclusion. It was not, however, a hopeless 
 thought that he might yet be moved to London a living man. The 
 symptoms of his malady were in some respects improved, an amendment 
 chiefly showing itself in a more regular pulse, and the comparative 
 infrequency of paroxysms. He was one evening enabled to take tea 
 with his friends in full assemblage, and to give continual attention to 
 the admirable song and guitar accompaniment of his accomplished son, 
 in whose native talent and acquired grace he took, as well he might, an 
 honest pride. 
 
 The evening alluded to was that of his last enjoyment. It 
 had been arranged that Charles should go to London the fol- 
 lowing morning, as from the opinion of our medical friends no 
 immediate danger was to be apprehended ; the same anxious 
 business that had so often disturbed my husband's serenity re- 
 quired, as he thought, renewed attention ; moreover, Charles had 
 some intention of preparing a drawing for the new Houses of 
 Parliament. 
 
 The dear invalid had not been seen to smile for many days, — 
 nay, weeks. On this evening he was tranquil, and asked to hear 
 Mr. Wightwick and Charles play and sing to the guitar, remind- 
 
472 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 ing Mr. Wightwick of several Italian airs he had formerly heard 
 him sing, and pressing to bear them again, alternately requiring 
 Charles to amuse him in a like manner by the airs he loved 
 best, ending with his great favourite, " Jenny Jones." As Charles 
 finished singing it, he observed, " Ah ! I think if I were dead, 
 that song would restore me to life !"* 
 
 The next morning Charles went to his father's bedside; found 
 him, as he declared himself, better; and received his instructions 
 upon the several points to which he desired his son to attend in 
 London, and Charles prepared to depart. It was remarkable 
 that on this occasion his father kissed him ! — a token of affec- 
 tion which had been discontinued since Charles's childhood, and 
 which was not thought of even in the anguish of the separation 
 in 1834. 
 
 My letter to Charles after his departure will spare the painful 
 necessity of describing anew every part of the progress of his 
 dear father's malady during the period of his absence. 
 
 Plymouth, June 25th. 
 I anticipate by an hour the letter I expect to receive from you, 
 announcing, I trust, your safe arrival in London, and I do so in order 
 to inform you of your father's improvement since he awoke this morning, 
 after a quiet night ; induced, it is true by the opiate, yet succeeded by a 
 more hopeful effect than from any previous draught of the kind, for he 
 has remained until near five this afternoon without any paroxysm, even 
 a slight one. He determined, on finding himself free from struggles, 
 not to speak much during the day, and has written with a pencil all he 
 wishes, &c. 
 
 Soon after my husband awoke on this day (the 25tli) he asked 
 briefly for pencil and paper, and as soon as I took it to him he 
 wrote as follows : — 
 
 " My first desire is to write, because I wish to put on record my own 
 impressions, — because I think a wowo-syllable creates about an equal 
 degree of spasmodic affection, with the exliaustion of so much breath. 
 I therefore wish to-day to make my will* by correspondence, and 
 Grimaldyize thus. I hope so far that I can make myself understood by 
 action for what I want, as to questions put by yes and no, — with mono- 
 syllables, with or without paper, — the rest by having plenty of supply. 
 Kead this. Siiy. Say is it understood, and answer." 
 
 "No. 1," was placed in one corner of this not altogether in- 
 
 * This ballad, first sung in public in 1837 by Charles, was written by him 
 during a sojourn in Wales in 1826, when the character of the air suggested the 
 words. 
 
 * Known. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 473 
 
 telligible intimation. A confusion in his mind, doubtless from 
 the effects of the opiate, prevented his expressions being as ch^ar 
 as he intended ; but I would not let him perceive tliat I was 
 puzzled, and therefore affected perfectly to understand his mean- 
 ing. He then tore up a sheet of paper into many-sized pieces, 
 and wrote upon tliem from time to time ; all which I answered 
 verbally. Some time after, he put another paper into my hand. 
 
 "Continuation 1. 
 
 '* My impressions are, that I took my medicine at twice (mejming 
 the night before), and that after that period I did not awake until 1 was 
 invited to coffee, which refreshed me." 
 
 I confirmed these impressions by a brief affirmative. After a 
 short pause he again wrote — 
 
 " No. 2. Already I succeed, — God be praised, I have not yet had a 
 slight spasm." 
 
 After another pause and some sleep, he from time to time 
 during the day put the following scraps into my hands : — 
 
 "Three o'clock, — awoke. Still success. Has Magrath* been? — 
 does he approve ?" 
 
 " When did I see Harrisf last ?" 
 
 " Shaving materials." 
 
 " No more coffee." 
 
 " What's o'clock ?" 
 
 Letter continued. — He has contrived to shave and wash. These 
 operations have occupied a great part of his waking periods ; but it is 
 much to have done. He has not before even attempted it since you 
 went ; and has neither refreshed himself with water nor fresh linen ; 
 even to-day he has not been able to accomplish the latter comfort, being 
 too fatigued with what he has done to allow me to trouble him with any 
 other effort; yet I am cheered with this day's progress. He has broken 
 sometimes through his La Trappe system upon sudden impulse. I am 
 satisfied that he is much better; his legs, which have been bandaged, 
 are smaller — much smaller; and when I tell you that this is the first 
 day since Sunday that he has been inclined to take nourishment, and 
 that he has had two cups of coffee and one of broth, besides two small 
 slices of bread and butter, eaten with something like appetite, you will, 
 I hope, be comtbrted as I am. 
 
 I assure you, my dearest Charles, all has been gloom since you went. 
 1 have repented your going more than once, and feared seriously and 
 hourly the necessity of recalling you. Your father one morning re- 
 proached his doctors (or " allowing that poor boy to leave him," saying, 
 he should not outlive the day ; indeed he was very bad. He is now 
 certainly looking much clearer, and his eyes are bright and full. 
 
 A.M. 
 
 * Sir George Magrath, his physician. + His surgeon. 
 
474 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 The next morning, June 26th, he took his pencil as soon he 
 awoke, and wrote as follows : JBulletin. — Thursday [it was 
 Friday], 28th, my birthday. Fifty-nine ! ! ! Calm and beau- 
 tiful night :" adding, verbally, " you always forget my birthday !" 
 I told him he was mistaken, that his birthday was not till 
 Sunday; and that "this was only the 26th." He considered a 
 little, and then mqved his head in acknowledgment of his mis- 
 take. In this manner, without much variation, he went on till 
 Saturday the 27th. He awoke on that morning with a placid 
 countenance ; and in answer to my usual inquiries, said, at in- 
 tervals (as he had recently felt obliged to speak), "Oh ! I have 
 had such beautiful visions 1 — such lovely, heavenly visions ! I 
 wish some imaginative poet, like Coleridge, or Shelley, could 
 hear what I have seen, what a beautiful account he would give 
 of it! 0, such heavenly visions !" 
 
 (May this not have been a foretaste of what he was soon to 
 enjoy for ever ? — I am happy in so believing.) I observed to 
 him how well he looked (he had put on, with great difficulty, 
 a change of linen) — nay, that his appearance was youthful; 
 and so fresh ! — his complexion was glowing and his eyes bright. 
 I placed it all to the account of his " beautiful" night and sweet 
 dreams. I told him, playfully, " that he looked quite handsome." 
 To my surprise and pleasure he replied, with a smile, imitating 
 the tones and manner of John Kemble, " Go, go, you little flat- 
 terer!" 1 approached him with tears of joy at this unwonted 
 sally, saying, how happy he had made me by this cheerfulness ; 
 but the very act of moving quickl}^ towards him — the slight 
 agitation of the air occasioned by it — affected his breathing, 
 and he looked alarmed. I kissed his head, instead of his cheek, 
 therefore ; and afterwards placed a looking-glass upon the bed, 
 in order to .show him his improvement. He deliberately looked 
 into it, and, with affected vanity, held up his hands and eyes 
 in pretended admiration of his own beauty ; and I was all 
 delight and hope. 
 
 After this, the person who was latterly employed to rub his 
 legs daily (my strength proving unequal to the force re- 
 quired), entered the room, and I perceived from the window a 
 pretty white pony whick he had left there. I questioned him 
 as to its safety and strength, and planned, in the hearing of 
 the dear sufferer, to hire it as soon as he was strong enough 
 to mount it far exercise^ which 1 augured he would soon be. 
 He fixed his bright eyes upon me, but without any particular 
 meaning that I could understand, and I was full of the cou- 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 475 
 
 fidence which his improved appearance gave me, that a very 
 few days more would find him in progress towards recovery. 
 In the course of the afternoon, he suddenly asked, in a tone 
 like assertion rather than a question, " Broderip has got my 
 will ?" I paused, for I had never heard of one since that made 
 when he went first to America, and of which I now knew 
 nothing; I thought it best to answer, " Oh ! yes." He nodded 
 his head, and seemed satisfied.* In the evening he relapsed 
 into his usual state, and I wrote the following letter to Charles, 
 who had been detained in town longer than he wished by indis- 
 position : — 
 
 June 27th. 
 
 Your father remains in the same state as when I wrote last, not 
 better ; and this is what, perhaps, checks my exultation as to his im- 
 provement within the last three days. It seems to me unnatural, that 
 when pronounced free from present symptoms of a dangerous character, 
 no gradual strength is to be discovered. He has this morning made 
 an effort (really a great one, poor sutferer, it lias been), and succeeded 
 in changing his linen. 
 
 Last night a violent cough came on, after he was settled for the 
 night. This recurred frequently, — expectoration always followed it 
 with difficulty. This I mentioned to Sir George and Mr. Harris to- 
 day, and my spirits are much damped by the gravity of their manner 
 when 1 gave the information. Sir George waited, in order to hear the 
 cough and see the nature of what he brought off his chest, and when 
 he saw it his words were not explicit to me about it. I am easily cast 
 down in my present state, and, perhaps, unnecessarily take alarm. The 
 dear patient certainly looks better, and his paroxysms are not only 
 " short," but " far between" and fainter, yet there is no increase of 
 appetite. His opiate is gradually made weaker, and yet he sleeps well. 
 His head is sometimes wild, and he is very visionary. He asked me 
 to read the Bible to him on Thursday, and yesterday I offered to do so 
 again ; but, after listening a few minutes he said, " It is a mockery — 
 my head is too confused to understand it." I placed the book by his 
 bedside, and when I returned I found him reading it. After this he 
 seemed trying to find some place, and tui-ned over the leaves confusedly. 
 Seeing this, I said, " Do you want the New Testament ? let me find 
 it for you " He patted my hand gently, as it touched the book, saying, 
 with a half stnile, " I knew how to read the Bible before you were 
 born," and I desisted. 
 
 He asks every morning, and again at night, about your letter, so 
 write something every day till you return, as it Ls clear you must soon 
 do ; for our removal is, alas ! distant, I believe. Your father can 
 
 * It proved that no other will than that of 1822 had ever been made, or 
 even spoken about to his legal friend. This was afterwards found, after a long 
 search, amongst his business papers in London. 
 
476 THE LIFE AND COilRESPONDENGE OF 
 
 scarcely bt'ar the fsitigue of getting up into the easy chair, and he is in 
 perpetual perspiration from debility — sleeping, certainly, twenty hours 
 <jut of the twenty-four. He docs not wish to see anybody, and there- 
 fore I allow only the doctors to enter his room. I seldom leave the 
 apartment, or the view of him from the next room with the folding- 
 doors open ; indeed, he cannot bear me to be absent a moment, and 
 when I began this letter requested me to sit where he could see me. I 
 was not well yesterday, and all night I feared I should be worse. To- 
 morrow will be your dear father's birthdaj'-, when, he has reminded me, 
 his age will be fifty-nine. He says, if I should be ill, he should sink 
 immediately. He talks of you in the most affectionate words. 
 
 A.M. 
 
 Past nine o'clock. — Your father seems really improved since the 
 morning, and more collected ; his cough has not recurred oftener than 
 six times to-day. He says you must write on Monday, and say when 
 you think of being here again, and wait for our reply before you take 
 your place. I must not ask him why he wishes this ; but do you 
 adhere to his wish. 
 
 Before v^riting the postscript of this letter, my husband had 
 got up and seen a visitor (Mr. Jacobson, one of the gifted " Blue 
 Friars," who had just arrived from London). He appeared, 
 indeed, much better, and only complained of his legs being cold. 
 In the course of the evening 1 found my spasmodic complaint 
 increasing, and fearing it might be observed and distress him, or 
 incapacitate me from attending him, about twelve o'clock I 
 approached him, and kissing his head, said, " I want you to go 
 to bed now." He closed the Bible which he had been reading, 
 and, looking up at me, without his usual request to be allowed to 
 remain up longer, replied meekly, "I am ready." 
 
 About a quarter-past twelve he was again in bed. I had 
 completed all the customary arrangements in silence, and by the 
 physician's order diluted his night-draught with water, and seen 
 him drink it, when he gave me the kiss which said " good night," 
 and I withdrew to the other part of the room, divided by folding- 
 doors, which, left ajar, afforded me the means of hearing the 
 slightest sound or intimation that he wished my presence. For 
 though he was uneasy during the whole day, if I was not con- 
 tinually near him, he had latterly — doubtless from humane con- 
 sideration for me, finding my eyes always upon him during the 
 night, declared he could not sleep unless my sofa was away from 
 his view. His little favourite, Fop, who could never be re- 
 moved from the side of the bed, unless by force, was always 
 carried with me, lest his breathing should disturb his master's 
 rest. 
 
 I listened, as I was in the habit of doing, for some time at 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 477 
 
 the open part of the door, until I ascertained that the dear 
 sufferer was asleep, and then threw myself upon my sofa. On 
 this night " tired Nature" must have sunk for some minutes into 
 a half-unconseiousness, for a sudden spring of tlie little animal 
 towards the folding-doors fearfully roused me to the hearing of 
 an unusual sound in the next room. 1 instantly rushed forward, 
 and as 1 reached the foot of the bed, 1 missed the form I sought. 
 He had fallen from the bed-chair, which always supported l)im, 
 pn to the side of the bed. I endeavoured to lift his head, which 
 hung down, and replace him, but he was too heavy for me, even 
 in the energy of my despair, to raise. — Oh ! my dear, dear 
 
 husband ! 1 knew not how they were summoned, but I found 
 
 the bed soon surrounded by his physicians and other pitying 
 spectators of my agony, as I held the dear inanimate remains in 
 my arms, till I was at length conscious that all hope was vain, 
 and that my best and dearest friend was gone for ever ! 
 
 I was then led away, (oh ! that separation !) upon being 
 assured by the kind physicians that the final pang had been 
 momentary. I believed what I was told, for everything near 
 him was as I left it : the hand-bell (which he would have sounded 
 had he been previously conscious of a change) was unmoved, the 
 smelling-bottle, Bible, all, all as I had placed them ; the only- 
 indication of voluntary action was the position of ^ shawl which 
 he always spread over his bosom when he lay back to rest. 
 This shawl was found thrust under his waistcoat in a heap, next 
 to his heart.* 
 
 " I am ready !" Memorable words ! They were his last, and 
 they recurred to me, as I was taken from him, in a twofold sense, 
 and ought, in some degree, to have tempered the anguish of the 
 tinae, which 
 
 Nipped not the life, but the heart. 
 
 Even at this remote period I feel myself so unfit to dwell upon 
 the mournful particulars of the event, that I am induced once 
 more to borrow from the expressive pen which has before 
 been a resource in this most melancholy and painful portion of 
 my task. 
 
 Mr. Wightwick continues his account as follows ; — 
 
 He only lived half an hour into his birthday ; a day which, having 
 reason to be proud of the being whom it had ushered into life, claimed 
 the privilege of "lighting him to dusky death." The sad duty of 
 
 * During the latter part of his confinement, he wore a black velvet waist- 
 coat under a dressing-gown, when in bed, lying without any other covering 
 upon his chest and arms. 
 
478 THE LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF 
 
 preparing for his funeral devolved on his long-attached friend, Mr. 
 Henry Gyles; and, on Friday morning, the 3rd of July, bis remains 
 were consigned to the tomb. All honours that could be offered on the 
 occasion were proudly, not less than feelingly paid, and such a general 
 sympathy was awakened, as really seemed to betoken a national loss. 
 The rank, intellect, and respectability of the three towns of Devonport, 
 Stonehouse, and Plymouth, were satisfactorily represented b}^ the pall- 
 bearers and the numerous gentlemen who attended. The officiating 
 clergy of the parish and the churchwardens manifested a gentleness of 
 attention which will not be forgotten. The organist accompanied the 
 deceased comedian to the grave with the most solemn tones of sacred 
 harmony ; and he was lowered into his tomb amid the heavy sighs and 
 irrepressible tears — not of the chief mourner only. During the pro- 
 cession the streets were lined with spectators, yet not a sound M''as to be 
 heard, and the church was found crowded in every part by sympathising 
 spectators. 
 
 Such was the affecting end of " dear Charles Mathews," as the 
 feeling Coleridge designated him. Had he died in London, friends 
 more numerous, " trappings of woe" more pompous, and a train more 
 theatrical, would doubtless have attended on his exit; but nowhere 
 could he have been followed by friends more affectionate, nor waited on 
 by ceremonies more truly suitable and decent than at Plymouth. Even 
 the day seemed to take a part in the duties of the occasion ; it rained 
 until the mournful procession began to move forward, when it suddenly 
 became dry. Still, however, veiling itself from the sun until the return 
 of the mourners from the church, when the clouds were partially 
 dispelled, and a gleam of sober cheerfulness admitted. 
 
 He lies in a vault in the western vestibule of the fine old church of 
 St. Andrew at Plymouth. A man so interwoven with the public should 
 be in such a place interred. Hundreds weekly pass his tonib in their 
 way to prepare for that last home to which they are also hastening ; 
 and the verger who points out the interesting spot to the stranger, 
 testifies the words of the pathetic Tristram — " not a passenger goes 
 by without stopping to cast a look upon it, and sighing, as he walks on, 
 
 Alas, poor Yorick !" 
 A brief while longer, I cannot help lingering over his grave, for I 
 knew him as a man ; you, perhaps, only as an actor. I had oppor- 
 tunities of observing his scrupulous integrity ; his affectionate and 
 grateful attachment to those who loved him ; his forgiving generosity 
 towards those who had wronged him ; and, more than all, his Christian 
 resignation when threatened by the death which has since laid him low. 
 
 And now adieu for ever ! Adieu, Charles Mathews ! for the many 
 hours of innocent and instructive amusement thou hast afforded, we 
 proffer our gratitude ; for thy purity of mind and unsullied integrity, 
 our admiration ; for thy warmth of heart, our love ; for thy loss, our 
 deep sorrow ! 
 
 The concluding local notices in relation to the "last scene 
 of all," which ends this sad " eventful history," are from othei* 
 hands, and contain particulars of the last mournful ceremonies. 
 
CHARLES MATHEWS. 479 
 
 To the Rev. Thomas Speidell. 
 
 Plymouth, July 1st, 1835. 
 
 My deae Sik, — You have doubtless received intelli<jence of the 
 mournful event which has depressed the hearts of all who ever were 
 acquainted with Mathews. He died soon after midnight on the 
 morning of his fifty-ninth birthday ; and as soon as his new-made 
 widow could compose her mind sufficiently to name the persons who 
 were first to be informed of the event, I was instructed to write several 
 letters, and amongst them, of course, one to his affectionate friend, Mr. 
 Speidell ; but, from some inadvertency, which it is now vain to explain, 
 and which might only impugn my own discretion, your letter escaped 
 my attention, and it only remains for me to express my regret that you 
 should have been left to form a suspicion of neglect when you had so 
 prominent a claim to consideration. This lapse of attention gives me, 
 however, an opportunity of informing you how greatly the memory of 
 our friend is honoured in this distant part of England. The Port 
 Admiral,* the Lieutenant-Governor General, Sir Willoughby Cotton, 
 the Commissioners of the Dockyard and of the Victualling-yard ;t Col. 
 Abernethie, the Commandant of the Marines ; the Commandant of 
 Engineers, Sir George Whitmore ; the Mayor, and the Recorder, are to 
 be his pall-bearers ; and he is to be interred in a vault under the 
 vestibule of St. Andrew's Church, Plymouth, on Friday next. 
 
 Mrs. Mathews continues in a very afflicted state, and poor Charles is 
 not in a way to afford her more consolation than arises out of his 
 presence, and a firm conviction of the great deliverance which it has 
 pleased Almighty God to grant to his afflicted father. 
 
 I have the honour to be, dear Sir, yours sincerely, 
 
 Henry Gyles. 
 
 His funeral, which took place on Friday morning last, was, in its 
 character, most grateful to his afflicted survivors and honourable to the 
 town. Not a follower was there unprompted by feelings of affection or 
 respect, nor was there one who wore the mourner's garb unmoved by a 
 mourner's sorrow. 
 
 The friends of the deceased having assembled at the house of Mr. H. 
 Gyles, in Windsor-terrace, proceeded to Lockyer-street, where the corpse 
 remained, and the procession moved onwards to St. Andrew's Church 
 in the following order : — 
 
 Conductors, &c. — Rev. R. Luney ; Rev. C. J. Smith ; Sir George 
 Magrath, M.D. j W. S. Harris, Esq., surgeon ; J. C. Cookworthy, Esq., 
 M.D. 
 
 Efje Botig. 
 
 Pall-bearers. 
 
 Chief Mourner — C. J. Mathews, Esq., supported on either side by 
 Capt. Tincombe and H. Gyles, Esq. 
 
 Mourners — F. Brady, Esq.; J. Franklin, Esq.; W. Jacobson, Esq.; 
 George Wightwick, Esq. 
 
 * Sir William Hargood. f Captain Ross and Captain Hornby. 
 
480 LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF CHARLES MATHEWS. 
 
 Numerouii friends and admirers of the deceased. 
 
 The procession was closed by the carriages of Admiral Sir W. Har- 
 good, General Sir Willoughby Cotton, and Colonel Abernethie. 
 
 The churchwardens of St. Andrew's, Messrs. Bone and Linnington, 
 evinced every possible kindness and attention in their department, and 
 the organist, Mr. Drewitt, proved the truth of Cowper's line, " There is 
 in souls a sympathy with sounds." The " Dead March in Saul " was 
 the piece most appropriately selected to accompany the body to its final 
 resting-place, and the most important of the hour's solemn duties was 
 impressively fulfilled by the Rev. J. C. Smith, assisted by Mr. Luney, 
 the curate of Sit. Andrew's Chapel. 
 
 The vault is situate in the central thoroughfare of the western vesti- 
 bule of St, Andrew's Church, where a stone slab announces, with 
 admirable simplicity, the last home of " Charles Mathews, comedian, 
 born 28th June, 1776, died 28th June, 1835." 
 
 Mrs. Mathews and Mr. C. J. Mathews (the widow and son of the 
 deceased) have left Plymouth, on a visit to Endsleigh-cottage, nnost 
 feelingly offered for their occupation by its noble proprietors, the Duke 
 and Duchess of Bedford. 
 
 HIS MONUMENT. 
 
 {From a Plymouth Paper, August 4M, 1838.) 
 We cannot but unite with our local contemporaries, in alluding with 
 much gratification to the monumental tablet which has been recently 
 erected in the vestibule of St. Andrew's Church to the memory of the 
 great comedian. To the celebrity of the deceased we must of course 
 attribute the peculiar interest which attaches to the " marble marked 
 with his name," whatever may be due to Mr. Wightwick, its designer, 
 or to Mr. Brown who has so creditably executed it. 
 
 It is in the Gothic style (as all monuments in Gothic churches ought 
 to be), and derives no small portion of its good effect from the admirable 
 jX)sition which has been awarded to it by the Rev. Vicar and the Church- 
 warden, Mr. Bone. The inscription on the tablet is as follows : — 
 
 " Near this spot are deposited the honoured remains of 
 Chaeles Mathews, 
 
 Comedian. 
 Born 28th June, 1776. 
 Died 28th June, 1835. 
 
 Not to commemorate that genius which his country acknowledged and 
 rewarded, and men of every nation confessed; nor to record the worth 
 which secured the respect and attachment of his many admirers and 
 friends ; but as an humble tribute to his devoted unvarying affection 
 and indulgence, as a husband and father, this tablet is erected in sor- 
 rowing love and grateful remembrance by his bereaved wife and son." 
 
 THE END. 
 
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