TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS.
POESONIANA.
ISAAC FOOT
LIBRARY
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RECOLLECTIONS
Table-talk of samuel Rogers.
TO WHICH IS ADDED
porsoniana.
EDITED I!Y THE LATE
KEV. ALEXANDEE DYCE.
NEW SOUTHGATE :
H. A. ROGEES, 2, BOUNDS GEEEN EOAD.
1887.
A^
> ^ LIBRARY
IZ^ UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA
;^^ SANTA BARJBAIiA
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PREFACE
TO THE
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGEKS.
Samuel Kogeus was born at Stoke Newiugton, SOtli July,
17G3. His first publication, An Ode to Siiperstilion, ivUh
some other Poems, ajDpeared in 1786 ; at which period the
coldly classic Mason (then a veteran) and the feeble Hay-
ley were perhaps the most popular of our living poets :
Cowper, though The Task* was in print, had scarcely
won all his fame; Crabbe had put forth only his earlier
pieces ; and Darwin was yet to come. By The Pleasures
of Memory^ in 1792, Mr, Rogers rose to high reputation ;
which he fully maintained by his Epistle to a Friend,
with other Poems, in 1798, He gave nothing new to the
public till 1812, when he added Columhusi to a re-im-
pression of his Poems. It was succeeded, in 1814 by his
* The second volume of Cowper's Poems, containing The Tasli,
is noticed with high praise in The Gentleman's Matjazine for
Dec. 1785.
t Seep. 153 (note) in the present volume.
vi. PREFACE,
Jacqueline^ in 181'J by his Human Life^ and in 1822 by
the First Part*- of his Italy, which was not completed
till several years after, and which closes the series of
his works. During the long remainder of his days he
confined himself to a few copies of occasional verses, one
of them composed so late as ISSo.f — Of all that Mr.
Rogers has written, Tlic Pleasures of Memory and the
Epistle to a Friend have been generally the most ad-
mired : it is questionable, however, if Human Life will not
be regarded by posterity as his master-piece, — as pre-eminent
in feeling, in graceful simplicity of diction, and in freedom
of versification.
Mr. Rogers commenced life by performing the duties
of a clerk in his fiither's banking-house ; but after in-
heriting a large share of the concern, he ceased to take
an active part in its management ; and, himself an object
of interest to society, he associated on familiar terms,
during more than two generations, with all who were
most distinguished for rank and political influence, or most
eminent in literature and art. — Genius languishing for
want of patronage was sure to find in Mr. Rogers a
* PuWished anonymously : see Literary Gazette tov January Id,
1822, where its reviewer thinks " there can be little hesitation in
ascribing it to Southey."
t See the lines, " Hence to the altar," &c,, in hisPocjiis, p. 305,
ed. 1853.
PllEFACE. vii.
generous patron. His purse was ever open to the dis-
tressed : — of tlie prompt assistance wliich he rendered in
the hour of need to various well-known individuals there
is ample record ; but of his many acts of kindness and
charity to the wholly obscure there is no memorial— at
least on earth.
The taste of JNIr, Rogers had been cultivated to the
utmost refinement ; and, till the failure of his mental
powers a short time previous to his death, he retained
that love of the beautiful which was in him a passion :
when more than ninety, and a prisoner to his chair, he
still delighted to watch the changing colours of the even-
ing sky, — to repeat passages of his favourite poets, —
or to dwell on the merits of the great painters whose
works adorned his walls. — By slow decay, and without
any suffering, he died in St. James's Place, 18th December,
1855.
From my first introduction to Mr. Rogers, I was in
the habit of writing down, in all their minutiae, the
anecdotes, &c. with which his conversation abounded ;
and once on my telling him that I did so, he expressed
himself pleased, — the rather, perhaps, because he some-
times had the mortification of finding impatient listeners.
Of those memoranda, which gradually accumulated to a
large mass, a selection is contained in the following
viii. PREFACE,
pages; the subjects being arranged (as far as such mis-
cellaneous matter would admit of arrangement) under
distinct heads : and nothing having been inserted which
was likely to hurt the feelings of the living.
A. D.
RECOLLECTIONS
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS.
I WAS taught by my mother, from my earhest in-
fancy, to be tenderly kind towards the meanest liv-
ing thing; and, however people may laugh, I some-
times very carefully put a stray gnat or wasp out
at the window. — My friend Lord Holland, though a
kind-hearted man, does not mind killing flies and
wasps; he says, "I have no feeling for msects." —
"When I was on the Continent with Richard Sharp,
we one day observed a woman amusing her child by
holding what we at first thought was a mouse tied
to a string, with which a cat was playing. Sharp
was all indignation at the sight ; till, on looking
more closely, he found that the supposed mouse was
2 KECOLLECTIOXS OF THE
a small rat; upon which he exclauiied, "Oh, I have
no pity for luts! " — People choose to give the term
vermin to those animals that happen to like what
they themselves like ; wasps eat peaches, and they
call them vermin. — I can hardly persuade myself
that there is no compensation in a future existence
for the sufferings of animals in the present life,''' —
for instance, when I see a horse in the streets un-
mercifully flogged by its brutal driver.
I well remember one of the heads of the rebels
upon a pole at Temple-Bar, — a black shapeless
lump. Another pole was bare, the head having
dropt from it.t
In my childhood, after doing anything wrong, I
used always to feel miserable from a consciousness
* Compare a, poem Ofi tlie Future Existence of Brutes, by Miss
Seward,— Poi?;; Worlis, ii. 58. — Ed.
f " The last heads which remained on the Bar were those of
Fletcher and Townley. 'Yesterday,' says a uews-writer of the
1st of April, 1772, ' one of the rebels' heads on Temple Bar fell
down. There is only one head now remaining.'" P. Cunning-
ham's Ilcindhook of London, sub Temj'le Bar. — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 3
of having clone it : my parents were quite aware of
this, and therefore seldom reproved me for a fault,
— leaving me to reprove myself.
When I was about thirteen, my father and mo-
ther gave a great children's ball, at which many
grown-up folks were also present. I was dancing
a minuet with a pretty little girl ; and at the mo-
ment when I ought to have put on my hat and given
both hands to my partner, I threw the hat among
the young ladies who were sitting on benches, and
so produced great surprise and confusion in the
room. This strange feat was occasioned by my sud-
denly recollecting a story of some gallant youth who
had signalised himself in the same way.
In my boyhood, my father one day called me
and my brothers into his room, and asked us each
what professions we wished to follow. When my
turn came, I said (to my father's annoyance) that
I should like "to be a preacher;" for it was then
the height of my ambition to figure in a pulpit ; —
I thought there was nothing on earth so grand.
This predilection, I believe, was occasioned chiefly
4 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
by the admiration I felt for Dr. Price and for his
preaching. He was our neighbour (at Newington
Green), and would often drop in, to spend the
evening with us, in his dressing-gown : he would
talk, and read the Bible, to us, till he sent us to bed
in a frame of mind as heavenly as his own. He
lived much in the society of Lord Lansdowne and
other people of rank ; and his manners were ex-
tremely polished. In the pulpit he was great in-
deed, — making his hearers forget the iweacher and
think only of the subject. The passage " On Virtue,"
cited from Price in Enfield's SiJcahcr, is a very
favourite one with me, though probably it is quite
unknown to readers of the present day.
["IN PEAISE OP VIKTUE.
" Virtue is of intrinsic value and good desert,
and of indispensable obligation ; not the creature of
will, but necessary and immutable ; not local or tem-
porary, but of equal extent and antiquity with the
Divine Mind ; not a mode of sensation, but ever-
lasting Truth ; not dependent on power, but the
guide of all power. Virtue is the foundation of
honour and esteem, and the source of all beauty,
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 5
order and happiness in nature. It is what confers
vakie on all the other endowments and qualities of
a reasonable being, to which they ought to be ab-
solutely subservient, and without which, the more
eminent they are, the more hideous deformities and
the greater curses they become. The use of it is
not confined to any one stage of our existence, or
to any particular situation we can be in, but reaches
through all the periods and circumstances of our
being. — Many of the endowments and talents we
now possess, and of which we are too apt to be
proud, will cease entirely with the present state ;
but this will be our ornament and dignity in every
future state to which we may be removed. Beauty
and wit will die, learning will vanish away, and all
the arts of life be soon forgot ; but virtue will re-
main for ever. This unites us to the whole rational
creation, and fits us for conversing with any order
of superior natures, and for a place in any part of
God's works. It procures us the approbation and
love of all wise and good beings, and renders them
our allies and friends. — But what is of unspeakably
greater consequence is, that it makes God our friend,
assimilates and unites our minds to His, and engages
6 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
His almighty power in our defence. — Superior beings
of all ranks are bound by it no less than ourselves.
It has the same authority in all worlds that it has
in this. The further any being is advanced in ex-
cellence and perfection, the greater is his attach-
ment to it, and the more he is under its influence. —
To say no more ; it is the Law of the whole uni-
verse ; it stands first in the estimation of the Deity ;
its original is His nature ; and it is the very object
that makes him lovely.
" Such is the importance of virtue. — Of w^iat
consequence, therefore, is it that we practise it ! —
There is no argument or motive which is at all fitted
to influence a reasonable mind, which does not call
us to this. One virtuous disposition of soul is pre-
ferable to the greatest natural accomplishments and
abilities, and of more value than all the treasures
of the world. — If you are wise, then, study virtue,
and contemn every thing that can come in compe-
tition with it. Remember, that nothing else de-
serves one anxious thought or wish. Remember
that this alone is honour, glory, wealth and happi-
ness. Secure this, and you secure every thing.
Lose this, and all is lost."]
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 7
My father belonged originally to the Church of
England ; but, soon after his marriage with my
mother (a very handsome and very amiable woman),
he withdrew from it at her persuasion, and became
one of Dr. Price's hearers.
When I was a school-boy, I wore, like other
school-boys, a cocked hat ; — we used to run about
the fields, chasing butterflies, in cocked hats. Af-
ter growing up, I have walked through St. Paul's
Churchyard in a cocked hat.
I saw Garrick act only once, — the part of Ranger
in The Susjncious Husband. I remember that there
was a great crowd, and that we waited long in a
dark passage of the theatre, on our way to the pit.
I was then a little boy. My father had promised to
take me to see Garrick in Lear; but a fit of the
mumps kept me at home.
Before his going abroad, Garrick's attraction had
much decreased ; Sir William Weller Pepys said
that the pit was often almost empty. But, on his
& EE COLLECTIONS OF THE
return to England, people were mad about seeing
him ; and Sir George Beaumont and several others
used frequently to get admission into the pit, before
the doors were opened to the public, by means of
bribing the attendants, who bade them "be sure, as
soon as the crowd rushed in, to pretend to be in a
great heat, aiid to wipe their faces, as if they had
just been strugghng for entrance."
Jack Bannister told me, that one night he was
behind the scenes of the theatre when Garrick was
playing Lear ; and that the tones in which Garrick
uttered the words, "0 fool, I shall go mad!"* ab-
solutely thrilled him.
Garrick used to pay an annual visit to Lord Spen-
cer at Althorp ; where, after tea, he generally enter-
tained the company by reading scenes from Shake-
speare. Thomas Grenville,t who met him there,
told me that Garrick would steal anxious glances at
" You think I'll weep ;
No, I'll not weep.
I have full cause of weeping ; but this heart
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws
Or ere I'll weep. — Ofool, I shall go mad! "
King Lear, act ii. sc. 4. — Ed.
t The Eight Honourable T. G.— Ed.
TABLE-TALK OP SAMUEL ROGERS. 9
the faces of his audience, to perceive what effect his
reading produced ; that, one night, Garrick observed
a lady Hstening to him very attentively, and yet
never moving a muscle of her countenance ; and that,
speaking of her next day, he said, " She seems a very
worthy person ; but I hope that — that — that she won't
be present at my reading to-night." — Another even-
ing at Althorp, when Garrick was about to exhibit
some particular stage-effect of which they had been
talking, a young gentleman got up and placed the
candles upon the floor, that the light might be thrown
on his face as from the lamps in the theatre. Gar-
rick, displeased at his officiousness, immediately sat
down again.
My friend Maltby''' and I, when we were very
young men, had a strong desire to see Dr. Johnson ;
and we determined to call upon him and introduce
ourselves. We accordingly proceeded to his house
in Bolt Court ; and I had my hand on the knocker,
when our courage failed us, and we retreated. Many
years afterwards, I mentioned this circumstance to
* See notice at the commencement of the Porsoniana in this
vol. — Ed.
10 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
Boswell, who said, " What a pity that you did not
go boldly in ! he would have received you with all
kindness."
Dr. Johnson said to an acquaintance of mine, " My
other works are wane and water ; but my Rambler is
pure wine." The world now thinks differently.
Lady Spencer recollected Johnson well, as she
used to see him often in her girlhood. Her mother.
Lady Lucan, would say, " Nobody dines with us to-
day ; therefore, child, we'll go and get Dr. Johnson."
So they would drive to Bolt Court, and bring the
doctor home wdth them.
At the sale of Dr. Johnson's books, I met Gene-
ral Oglethorpe, then very, very old, the flesh of his
face looking like parchment. He amused us young-
sters by talking of the alterations that had been
made in London and of the great additions it had
received w'ithin his recollection. He said that he
had shot snipes in Conduit Street !
By the by. General Fitzpatrick remembered the
time when St. James's Street used to be crowded
wdth the carriages of the ladies and gentlemen who
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGERS. 11
were walking in the Mall, — the ladies with their
heads in full dress, and the gentlemen carrying their
hats under their arms. The proprietors of Eanelagh
and Vauxhall used to send decoy-ducks among them,
that is, persons attired in the height of fashion, who
every now and then would exclaim in a very audible
tone, " What charming weather for Eanelagh " or
" for Vauxhall ! "
Eanelagh was a very pleasing place of amuse-
ment. There persons of inferior rank mingled with
the highest nobility of Britain. All was so orderly
and still, that you could hear the u-ldshiug sound of
the ladies' trains, as the immense assembly walked
round and round the room. If you chose, you might
have tea, which was served up in the neatest equipage
possible. The price of admission was half-a-crown.
People generally went to Eanelagh between nine and
ten o'clock.
My first attempt at authorship was a series of
papers headed The Scribbler/'- which appeared in
* T/te Scrihhler extends to eig:lit numbers, — in The Gentleman^ s
Magazine for 1781, pp. 68, 119, 168, 218, 259, 306, 355, 405 (mis-
12 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
The Gentleman's Magazine, — for what year I forget,
I have never looked at them since : I dare say they
are sad trash.
[" THE SCBIBBLEK. NO. IV.
"0 Tcmpora! Mores'.
" The degeneracy of the age has ever been the
favourite theme of declamation : yet, when the sub-
ject has been attentively examined, the Moderns will
not appear inferior to the Ancients.
' ' Greece and Kome shine with peculiar lustre in
the page of history. The former contained several
states, the principal of which were Lacedsemon and
Athens.
" Devoted entirely to war, the Spartans were
brave, frugal, and temperate ; but divested of every
sentiment of humanity. The reduction of Athens and
the capture of Cadmea, the execution of Agis and the
barbarity exercised on the Helotes, reflect indelible
disgrace on the annals of Lacedaemon.
paged 409), (several of the references to wliicli in Tlic General
Index to that work are wrong). The first Number is signed
u g****» jj^*««*«_'> Tiiege juvenile essays are on various subjects,
and quite up to the standard of the periodical writing of the time.
I have given, as a curiosity, No. 4 entire, — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 13
"With a delicate taste and a fine imagination,
the Athenians were vain, inconstant, and irresokite.
If no nation ever produced more great men, no
nation ever behaved to them with such ingratitude.
Miltiades died in prison ; Aristides, Themistocles,
and Cimon, were banished ; Socrates and Phocion
were condemned to suffer death. The rest of Greece
does not present a scene more honourable to human
nature.
" Individuals appeared among the Eomans who
merit the highest encomiums. Their national cha-
racter, however, was haughty and oppressive. The
destruction of Carthage and Numantia, the murder of
the Gracchi, their injustice to the Aricians and the
Ardeates, their triumphs and their gladiatorial com-
bats, sully the glory they acquired from their patriot-
ism, moderation, and valour.
' ' Such were the Ancients ; while they cultivated
the severer, they neglected the milder virtues ; and
were more ambitious of exciting the admiration than
of deserving the esteem of posterity.
" Examples of heroic virtue cannot occur so fre-
quently among the Moderns as the Ancients, from
the nature of their political institutions ; yet Eng-
14 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
land, Holland, and Switzerland, are entitled to
greater applause than the celebrated republics of
antiquity.
" Generosity, sincerity, and a love of indepen-
dence, are the characteristics of the English. No
nation had ever juster ideas of liberty, or fixed it
on a firmer basis. They have concerted innumerable
establishments in favour of the indigent, and have
even frequently raised subscriptions for the relief
of their enemies, when reduced to captivity. Their
conduct indeed in India has been excessively unjust.
Nor can this appear surprising to those who reflect,
that India is under the direction of a commercial
society, conducted by its members in a distant
country ; and that its climate is fatal to the consti-
tutions of the Europeans, who visit it only with the
design of suddenly amassing wealth, and are anxious
to return as soon as that design is accomplished.
" Holland, however circumscribed in its extent,
has acquired liberty by a war of above half a cen-
tury, and risen to the highest rank among the powers
of Europe. Though the Dutch are universally en-
gaged in lucrative pursuits, neither their sentiments
are contracted, nor their ideas confined. They have
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGEES. 15
erected edifices in which age may repose, and sickness
be reheved ; and have often Hberally contributed to
the support of the persecuted. The destruction
of the De "Witts was entirely the result of a mo-
mentary passion.
" Sheltered within the fastnesses of their native
mountains, the Swiss look down with security on the
revalutions around them. Though never actuated
with the spirit of conquest, they have exhibited acts
of the most exalted heroism in defence of their
country. Industrious, yet liberal ; simple, yet en-
lightened ; their taste is not vitiated, nor their man-
ners corrupted, by the refinements of luxury.
"That the Moderns are not inferior to the An-
cients in virtue, is obvious therefore on a review of
the nations that have acted with most honour in the
grand theatre of the world. The present mode of
conducting war, not to mention any other instance,
is the most humane and judicious that has yet been
adopted.
" Let us not then depreciate the Moderns. Let
us admire, let us imitate, what is laudable in anti-
quity, but be just to the merits of our contem-
poraries."]
16 EECOLLECTIOXS OF THE
The first poetry I published was the Ode to Super-
stition, in 1786. I wrote it while I was in my teens,
and afterwards touched it up." I paid down to the
* According to a note in Mr. E.'s collected poems it was
"written in 1785." — The full title of this publication is An Ode
to Sujjerstition, ovitli some otlier Poems. The small pieces an-
nexed to the Ode are, lines " To a Lady on the Death of her
Lover," "The Sailor," "A Sketch of the Alps at Day-break," and
"A Wish." The first of these Mr. Eogers thought unworthy of
preservation : but it may be subjoined here : —
" To a Lady on tlw Death of her Lover.
" Hail, pensive, pleasing Melancholy, hail !
Descend, and woo, with me, the silent shade ;
The curfew swings its sound along the gale.
And the soft moonlight sleeps in every glade.
She comes, she comes ! through **'s dusky grove,
In mild Eliza's form, I see her come !
Mourning with all the widow's vows of love
Her Henry's summons to his long, long home.
But hark ! from you bright cloud a voice she hears !
' No more, fond maid, from social pleasures fly :
' I'm sent from heaven to smile away thy tears,
* For Henry shares the triumphs of the sky.
' He's gone before but to prepare for thee ;
• And when thy soul shall wing its willing flight,
' His kindred soul, from all its fetters free,
' Will spring to meet thee in the realms of light.
' Know, ye shall then, with mutual wonder, trace
' Each little twinkling star in yon blue sphere,
' Explore what modes of being people space,
' And visit worlds whose laws he taught thee here.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 17
publisher thirty pounds to insure him from being a
loser by it. At the end of four years, I found that
he had sold about twenty copies. However, I was
consoled by reading in a critique on the Ode that I
was " an able writer," or some such expression. — The
short copy of verses entitled Cai)tivity was also com-
posed w^hen I was a very young man. It was a
favourite with Hookham Frere, who said that it re-
sembled a Greek epigram.
My lines To the Gnat, which some of the re-
viewers laughed at, were composed in consequence
of my sufferings from the attacks of that insect
while I lived at Newington Green. My eyes used to
be absolutely swollen up with gnat-bites. I aw'oke
one morning in that condition when I was engaged
' Go, act an angel's part, be misery's friend ;
' Go, and an angel's feelings shalt thou gain.
' Each grateful spirit o'er thy couch shall bend,
' And whisper peace, when flattery's voice is vain.
' Wake from thy trance. Can virtue sink in sighs ?
* When darkness frowns, she looks beyond the tomb.
' Memory and Hope, like evening stars, arise,
* And shed their mingled rays to gild the gloom.
' Religion speaks. She bids thy sorrows cease :
' With gratitude enjoy what God has given.
' Religion speaks. She points the path to peace :
' Attend her call to happiness and heaven.' "
2
18 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
to spend the day at Streatham with Mr. and Mrs.
Piozzi, to meet Miss Farren (afterwards Lady Derby);
and it was only by the appHcation of laudanum to
my wounds that I was enabled to keep my engage-
ment. Nothing could exceed the elegance and re-
finement of Miss Farren's appearance and manners.
People have taken the trouble to write my Life
more than once ; and strange assertions they have
made both about myself and my works. In one
biographical account it is stated that I submitted
Tlic Pleasures of Memory in manuscript to the cri-
tical revision of Kichard Sharp : now, when that
poem was first published, I had not yet formed an
acquaintance with Sharp (who was introduced to
me by the oldest of my friends, Maltby*). The
beautiful lines, " Pleasures of Memory ! — oh, su-
premely blest," &c., which I have inserted in a note
on Part Second, were composed by a Mr. Soame,f
who died in India in 1803, at which time he was a
lieutenant in the dragoons. I believe that he de-
stroyed himself. I had heard that the lines were
in a certain newspaper, and went to Peel's Coffee
* See notice at the commenceiueiit of the Porsoniana in this
vol.— Ed.
t See The CorresiJonclcnce of Sir T. Ilanmcr, &c., p. 481. — Er>.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 19
house to see that paper : there I first read them, and
there I transcribed them.
On the pubhcation of Tlic Pleasures of Memory,
I sent a copy to Mason, who never acknowledged it.
I learned, however, from Gilpin, and to my great
satisfaction, that Mason, in a letter to him, had
spoken well of it ; — he pronomiced it to be very
different in style from the poetry of the day.
During my whole life I have borne in mind the
speech of a woman to Philip of Macedon ; "I appeal
from Philip drunk to Philip sober." After waiting
any thing in the excitement of the moment, and
being greatly pleased with it, I have always put it
by for a day or two ; and then carefully considering
it in every possible light, I have altered it to the best
of my judgment ; thus appealing from myself drunk
to myself sober. I was engaged on The Pleasures of
Memory for nine years ; on Human Life for nearly
the same space of time ; and Italy was not completed
in less than sixteen years."
* 1 was with Mr. Rogers when he tore to pieces, and threw into
the fire, a manuscript operatic drama, The Vintage of Burgundy,
which he had wiitten early in life. He told me that he offered it
to a manager, who said, " I will bring it on the stage, if you are
determined to have it acted ; hut it will certainly be damned." —
Ed.
20 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
I was present \Yhen Sir Joshua Eeynolds delivered
his last lecture at the Eoyal Academy. On entering
the room, I found that a semicircle of chairs, im-
mediately in front of the pulpit, was reserved for
persons of distinction, being labelled " Mr. Burke,"
" Mr. Boswell," &c. &c. ; and I, with other young
men, was forced to station myself a good way off.
During the lecture, a great crash w^as heard ; and
the company, fearing that the building was about
to come down, rushed towards the door. Presently,
however, it appeared that there was no cause for
alarm ;-'= and they endeavoured to resume their places ;
but, in consequence of the confusion, the reserved
seats were now occupied by those who could first
get into them ; and I, pressing forwards, secured one
of them. Sir Joshua concluded the lecture by say-
ing, with great emotion, "And I should desire that
the last words which I should pronounce in this Aca-
demy and from this place might be the name of —
Michael Angelo." As he descended from the ros-
* There n-as cause for nlarm. " Oa an examination of the floor
afterwards, it was found that one of the beams for its support had
actually given way from the great weight of the assembly of per-
sons who pressed upon it, and probably from a flaw also in the
wood.'^ Northcote's Ll/e of Reynolds, ii. 263, ed. 1819.— Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGEES. 21
trum, Burke went up to liim, took his hand, and said,
"The Angel ended, and in Adam's ear
So charming left his voice, that he a while
Thought him still speaking, still stood fix'd to hear.'"*
What a quantity of snuff Sir Joshua took ! I
once saw him at an Academy-dinner, w^hen his waist-
coat was absolutely powdered with it.
Sir Joshua was always thinking of his art. He
w^as one day walking with Dr. Lawrence near Bea-
consfield, when they met a beautiful little peasant-
boy. Sir Joshua, after looking earnestly at the child,
exclaimed, " I must go home and deepen the colour-
ing of my Infant Hercules." The boy was a good
deal sun-burnt.
Count d'Adhemar was the original purchaser of
Sir Joshua's Muscijmla. Sir Joshua, who fancied
that he was bargaining for a different and less im-
portant pictm'e, told him that the price was fifty
guineas ; and on discovering the mistake, allowed
him to have Muscipula for that sum. — Fox had
been anxious to possess Musciimla when it was first'
* Par, Lost, b. viii. 1.— Ed.
KECOLLECTIONS OF THE
painted ; and he bought it at the Ambassador's sale
for (I beheve) fifty guineas. It is now at St. Anne's
Hill. It would fetch, at the present day, a thousand
guineas.
The morning of the day on which Sir Joshua's
Puck was to be sold, Lord Farnborough and Dance
the painter breakfasted with me; and we went to
the sale together. "When Puck was put up, it excited
such admiration, that there was a general clapping of
hands : yet it was knocked down to me at a compa-
ratively trifling price."'' I walked home from the sale,
a man carrying Puck before me ; and so well was
the picture known, that more than one person, as
they passed us in the street, called out, " There it
is!"
* " When the Shakespeare Gallery was disposed of by lottery,
the building itself, and many of the capital pictures, formed the
principal prize, which was won by Mr. Tassie of Leicester Square,
who, after showing it a few months, divided the property into seve-
ral lots, and sold them by auction. In that sale the pictures of
Sir Joshua produced the following sums, which are here contrasted
with the prices paid to Sir Joshua by Mr. Boydell :
Prices paid to Sir Joshua by Prices for which they sold by
Mr. Boydell. auction.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Puck or Eobin Good Fellow,
100 guineas. £215 5.?. 0."
Edward's Anecdotes of Painters, &c. p. 204.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS, 23
I like Northcote's Life of Sir Joshua :'■'■'' it may
be depended upon for facts ; and, of course, North-
cote was a very competent critic in painting.
I can hardly believe what was told me long ago
by a gentleman living in the Temple, who, however,
assured me that it was fact. He happened to be
passing by Sir Joshua's house in Leicester Square,
when he saw a poor girl seated on the steps and cry-
ing bitterly. He asked what was the matter ; and
she replied that she was crying "because the one
shilling which she had received from Sir Joshua for
sitting to him as a model, had proved to be a bad
one, and he would not give her another."
I recollect when it was still the fashion for gentle-
men to wear swords. I have seen Haydn play at a
concert in a tie-wig, with a sword at his side.
The head-dresses of the ladies, during my youth,
* " Northcote assured the writer of these pages that Laird, not
himself, procured the greater part of the materials for the Life of
Sir Joshua, and put them together ; his owa part was small, and
confined chiefly to criticism on art and artists." Prior's Life of
Goldsmith, vol. ii. 572. — Ed.
24 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
were of a truly preposterous size. I have gone to
Eanelagh in a coach with a lady who was obliged to
sit upon a stool placed ni the bottom of the coach,
the height of her head-dress not allowing her to
occupy the regular seat.
Their tight lacing was equally absurd. Lady
Crewe told me, that, on returning home from Eane-
lagh, she has rushed up to her bedroom, and desired
her maid to cut her laces without a moment's delay,
for fear she should faint.
Doctor Fordyce sometimes drank a good deal at
dinner. He was summoned one evening to see a
lady patient, when he was more than half-seas-over,
and conscious that he was so. Feeling her pulse,
and findmg himself unable to count its beats, he
muttered, "Drunk, by God!" Next morning, re-
collecting the circumstance, he was greatly vexed :
and just as he was thinking what explanation of his
behaviour he should offer to the lady, a letter from
her was put into his hand. " She too well knew,"
said the letter, "that he had discovered the unfor-
tunate condition in which she was when he last
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 25
visited her ; and she entreated him to keep the mat-
ter secret in consideration of the enclosed (a hmidi-ed-
pound bank-note) . ' '
I have several times talked to a very aged boat-
man on the Thames, who recollected " Mr. Alex-
ander Pope." This boatman, when a lad, had fre-
quently assisted his father in rowing Pope up and
down the river. On such occasions Pope generally
sat in a sedan-chair.
When I first began to publish, I got acquainted
with an elderly person named Lawless,'" shopman of
Messrs. Cadell and Davies the booksellers. Lawless
told me, that he was once walking through Twicken-
ham, accompanied by a friend, and a little boy the
son of that friend. On the approach of a very dimi-
nutive, misshapen, and shabbily-dressed person, the
■* This Lawless (as I was informed by Mr. Maltby,— see notice
prefixed to the Pursoniana, in this vol.) used daily to eat bis dinner
in the shop, placing a large folio before him so as to conceal his
plate. Often, to his great annoyance, just as he was beginning his
meal, Gibbon would drop in, and ask a variety of questions about
books. One day, Lawless, out of all patience at the interruption,
exclaimed from behind the folio, " Mr, Gibbon, I'm at dinner, and
can't answer any questions till I have finished it." — Ed.
26 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
child drew back half-afraid. "Don't be alarmed,"
said Lawless; "it is only a poor man."— " A poor
man ! " cried his friend : " why, that is Mr. Alexan-
der Pope."
Lawless also told me that he had been intimate
wuth the waiting-maid of Pope's beloved Martha
Blomit. According to the maid's account, her mis-
tress was one of the best-natm^ed and kindest per-
sons possible : she would take her out in the car-
riage to see sights, &c. &c.
Long ago, when Pope's villa was for sale, I had
a great wish to buy it ; but I apprehended that it
w^ould fetch a much larger sum than it did ; and
moreover I dreaded the epigrams, &c., which would
certainly have been levelled at me, if it had become
mine. — The other day, when the villa was finally
dismantled, I was anxious that the obelisk erected
by Pope to his mother's memory should be placed
in the gardens at Hampton Court, and I offered to
contribute my mite for that purpose : — but, no ! —
and the obelisk is now at Gopsall, Lord Howe's seat
in Leicestershire.
There are at Lord Bathurst's a good many un-
published letters of Pope, Bolingbroke, &c., which I
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 27
have turned over. In one of them BoHngbroke says
that he has no desire to " wrestle with a chimney-
sweeper," that is, Warbm-ton. — Lady Bathm'st pro-
mised to send me some of Pope's letters : instead of
which, she sent me a packet of letters from Queen
Mary to King William, in which he is addressed
as her " dear husba^i.""
In Pope's noble lines To tlic Earl of Oxford,
prefixed to Parnell's Poems, there is an impropriety
which was forced upon the poet by the rhyme ;
" The Muse attends thee to thy silent shade :
She waits, or to the scaffold or the cell.
When the last lingering friend has bid farewell."
It should be, of course, " or to the cell or the scaf-
fold."
* " Lord Bathurst has lent me a ver}' entertaining collection of
original letters, from Pope, BoHngbroke, Swift, Queen Mary, &c.,
and has promised to make me a present of any thing I like out of
them. 1 cannot say these communications have given me a very
great idea of Queen Mary's head ; but her heart, I am persuaded,
was a very good one. The defect must have been in her educa-
tion ; for such spelling and such English 1 never saw ; romantic
and childish too, as to sentiment. My reverence for her many
virtues leads me to hope she was very young when she wrote
them." Letter of Hannah More, in her Memoirs, &c. vol. i. 358,
third ed.— Ed.
28 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
Pope has sometimes a beautiful line rhyming to
a very indifferent one. For instance, in the Epistle to
Jervas,
" Alas, how little from the grave we claim !
Thou but preserv'st a face, and I a name : "
the latter line is very good: in the former, "claim"
is forced and bad ; it should have been " save " or
" preserve." Again, in the Elegy to the Memory of an
Unfortunate Lady,
" A heap of dust alone remains of thee ;
'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be,"
the former line is touching, the latter bad.
What a charming line is that in TJie Bapa of the
Lock !
"If to her share some female errors fall,
Look on her face ^ and yotCllforyet them alV^
These verses in his Lnitation of the Second Epistle
of the Second Book of Horace (verses which Lord
Holland is so fond of hearing me repeat) are as good
as any in Horace himself ; ,
" Years following years, steal something every day,
At last they steal us from ourselves away ;
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 2'J
In one our frolics, one amusements end,
In one a mistress drops, in one a friend."
But perhaps the best hue Pope ever wrote is in
his Imitation of the First Satire of the Second Book
of Horace ;
" Bare the mean heart that lurks beneath a star."
The want of pauses is the main blemish in Pope's
versification : I can't recollect at this moment an}'
pause he has, except that in his fine Prologue to
Cato ;
" The triumph ccas'cl ; tears gush'd from every eye ;
The -svorld's great victor pass'd unheeded by."
People are now so fond of tiie obscure in poetrj-,
that they can perceive no dccj) thinkiufj in that dar-
ling man Pope, because he always expresses himself
with such admirable clearness.
My father used to recommend Pope's Homer to
me : but, with all my love of Pope, I never could
like it, (I dehght in Cowper's Homer ; I have read
it again and again.*)
* Thomas Campbell once told me how greatly he admired
Cowper's Homer : he said that he used to read it to his wife, who
•was moved even to tears by some passages of it. — Ed.
30 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
The article on Pope in The Quarterly Bcvieiu'''-
was certainly touched up by Gifford : in some places
it is beyond the powers of D'Israeli.
Pope is not to be compared to Dryden for varied
harmony of versification ; nor for ease ; — how natur-
ally the words follow each other in this couplet of
Dryden's in the Second Part of Absalom and Achi-
tophcl !
" The midwife laid her hand on his thick skull,
With this prophetic blessing — Be thou dull! "
and in that touching one in his Ejnstle to Congreve,
" Be kind to my remains ; and, O, defend,
Against your judgment, your departed friend ! "
Dryden's Virgil is, on the whole, a failure ; but
I am not sure that it does not exhibit the best speci-
mens of his versification : in that w'ork he had not to
tax his invention ; he had only to think of the ex-
pression and versification. It contains one thing,
in the supplication of Turnus to iEneas, which is
finer than the original ;
* Vu]. xxiii. 4C0.— Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 31
" Yet think, O, think, if mercy may be shown, —
Thou hadst a father once, and hast a son, —
Pity my sire," &c.
Virgil's words are :
" Miseri te si qua parentis
Tangere cura potest, oro, — fuit et tibi talis
Anchises genitor, — Dauni miserere senectse," kc^-
I sometimes wonderi how a man can ever be
cheerful, when he knows that he must die. But
what poets write about the horrors of the grave makes
not the slightest impression upon me ; for instance,
what Dryden says ;
" Vain men ! how vanishing a bliss we crave !
Now warm in love, now withering iu the grave !
Never, O, never more, to see the sun.
Still dark, in a damp vault, and still alone ! " %
* yEn. xii. 932.— Ed.
f Mr. Rogers once made the same remark to Mr. Luttrell, who
versified it as follows,
" death, thy certainty is such
And thou'rt a thing so fearful,
That, musing, I have wonder'd much
How men were ever cheerful." — Ed.
X Palamon and Arcite, b. iii. — Ed.
32 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
All this is unphilosophical ; in fact, nonsense. The
body, ^Yhen the sonl has left it, is as worthless as
an old garment, — rather more so, for it rots much
sooner. — The lines of Dryden which I have just
quoted (and which are modernised from Chaucer)
were great favourites with Sheridan ; I seem now to
hear him reciting them.
Sir George Beaumont once met Quin at a very
small dinner-party. There was a delicious pudding,
which the master of the house, pushing the dish to-
wards Quin, begged him to taste. A gentleman had
just before helped himself to an immense piece of
it. " Pray," said Quin, looking first at the gentle-
man's plate and then at the dish, " which is the pud-
ding? "
Sir George Beaumont, when a young man, was
one day in the Mount (a famous coffee-house in
Mount Street, Grosvenor Square) with Harvey
Aston. Various persons were seated at different
tables. Among others present, there was an Irish-
man who was very celebrated as a duellist, having
killed at least half-a-dozen antagonists. Aston,
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. S?>
talking to some of his acquaintance, swore that he
would make the duellist stand barefooted before
them. " You had better take care what you sa}',"
they replied ; "he has his eye upon you." — " No mat-
ter," rejoined Aston ; " I declare again that he shall
stand barefooted before you, if you will make up
among you a purse of fifty guineas." They did so.
Aston then said in a loud voice, " I have been in Ire-
land, and am well acquainted with the natives." The
Irishman was all ear. Aston went on, " The Irish,
being born in bogs, are every one of them web-
footed; I know it for a fact." — "Sir," roared the
duellist, starting up from his table, "it is false!"
Aston persisted in his assertion. " Sir," cried the
other, " J was born in Ireland; and I will prove to
you that it is a falsehood." So saying, in great haste
he pulled off his shoes and stockings, and displayed
his bare feet. The joke ended in Aston's sharing
the purse between the Irishman and himself, gi\ang
the former thirty guineas, and keeping twenty. Sir
George assured me that this was a true story."
* A similar story is related of the Irishman from whomMack-
lin took the idea of Sir Callaghan O'Brallagbau (in Zove a la
jMocIc'), Macklin professing his belief that he, like other Irishmen,
must have a tail, " he instantly pulled off his coat and waistcoat,
3
S4 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
Aston was always kicking up disturbances. I
remember being at Eanelagh with my father and
mother, when we heard a great row, and were told
that it was occasioned by Aston.
If I mistake not, Aston fought two duels in
India on two successive days, and fell in the second
one."
That beautiful view of Conway Castle [in Mr.
Eogers's dining-room] was painted by Sir George
Beaumont, who presented it to me as a memorial of
our having been originally introduced to each other
in its ruins.- — Sir George and I w^ere always excellent
friends. The morning after I arrived at Venice (on
my first visit to Italy), I was looking out at the
to convince him of Lis mistake, assuring him, ' that no Irishman,
in that rcsjwct, was better than another mau.' " Cooke's Mcniuirs
ofJIacJdhi, p. 225.— Ed.
* " 1798, Dec. 23. At Madras, in consequence of a wound he
received in a duel with Major Allen, of which he languished about
a week, Coh Harvey Aston. He had been engaged in a similar
affair of honour, and on the same account, with Major Picton, only
the day preceding that on which he met Major A., but which was
fortunately terminated by each party tiring in the air, and a projier
explanation taking place as to the offence." Gentleman's Magazine,
vol. Ixix. P. I. p. 527. — Aston had fought a duel in 1790 with Lieut.
Fitzgerald, and was severely wounded. See Haydn's Diet, of Dates,
sub. DvcUlng. — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 35
window, when I saw a gentleman and a lady land
at my lodging from a gondola : they were Sir George
and Lady Beaumont. The meeting was delightful :
— even now, I think of it with pleasure.
In my youthful days Young's Night-Thoughts
was a very favourite book, especially with ladies :
I knew more than one lady who had a copy of it in
which particular passages were marked for her by
some popular preacher.
Young's poem TJic Last Day contains, amidst
much absurdity, several very fine lines : what an
enormous thought is this ! —
" Those overwlielming armies, wbose command
Said to one empire ' Fall,' another ' Stand,'
Whose rear hi/j rapt in nUjlit^ tvliile hrcakinfj dawn
Ruus'd the broad front, and calVd the hattle on.''''*
At Brighton, during my youth, I became ac-
quainted with a lawyer who had known Gray. He
* Book ii.— Ed.
36 EECOLLECTIOXS OF THE
said that Gray's pronunciation was very affected, e.g.
" What naise (noise) is that ? "
Henley (the translator of Beckford's VatheJc) was
one morning paying a visit to Gray, when a dog
came into the room. "Is that yom- dog?" said
Henley. "No," replied Gray: "do you suppose
that I would keep an animal hjj wldch I might iios-
sihly lose my life."
I was a mere lad when Mason's Gray was pub-
lished. I read it in my young days with delight,
and have done so ever since : the Letters have for
me an inexpressible charm ; they are as Vv^itty as
Walpole's, and have, what his want, true wisdom.
I used to take a pocket edition of Gray's Poems
with me every morning during my walks to town
to my father's banking-house, where I was a clerk,
and read them by the Vv'ay. I can repeat them all.
I do envy Gray these lines in his Ode on a dis-
tant inospect of Eton College ;
" Still as they ruu, they look behhid,
They hear a voice iu every wiud.
And snatch a fearful joy .''^
But what immediately follows is not good ;
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 37
" Gay hope is theirs, by Fancy fed,
Less pleasing when possessed : "
we cannot be said to i^ossess liope."'^ — How strange it
is that, with all Gray's care in composition, the word
"shade" should occur three times in the course of
the eleven first lines of that ode ! —
" Her Henry's holy shade.''''
" Whose turf, whose shade, -whose flowers among."
" Ah happy hills, ah pleasing shade! "
Both Fox and Courtenay thought Gray's frag-
ment. The Alliance of Education and Government, his
finest poem : but that was because they preferred
the heroic couplet to every other kind of verse. A
celebrated passage in it, —
" Oft o'er the trembling nations from afar
Has Scythia breath'd the living cloud of war ;
And, where the deluge burst with sweepy sway,
Their arms, their kings, their gods were roll'd away.
As oft have issu'd, host impelling host,
The blue-ey'd myriads from the Baltic coast :
* His friend Wakefield had anticipated Mr. Rogers in the
above remark : " Though the ohjcct of liope may truly be said to
be less pleasing in possession than in the fancy ; yet HOPE in
2>erson cannot possibly be possessed," <Scc. Note ad 1. — Ed.
38 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
The prostrate south to the destroyer yields
Her boasted titles and her golden fields ;
"With grim delight the brood of -winter view
A brighter day and heavens of azure hue,
Scent the new fragrance of the breathing rose,
And quaff the 2)cndent vintage as it grows," —
is a good deal injured by the forced and unnaturar
expression, " pendent vintage."'''
I once read Gray's Ode to Adversity to Words-
worth ; and at the Hne, —
" And leave us leisure to be good," —
Wordsworth exclaimed, "I am quite sure tliat is not
original ; Gray could not have hit upon it."f
The stanza w4iich Gray threw out of his Elegy is
better than some of the stanzas he has retained ;
" There scatter'd oft, the earliest of the year,
By hands unseen, are showers of violets found ;
The redbreast loves to build and warble there,
And little footsteps lightly print the ground."
* For this expression Gray was indebted to Virgil ;
" Non eadem avhonhns 2}cndet vi?idemia nostris
Quam MethymnaDO carpit de palmite Lesbos."
Georg. ii. 89.— Ed.
■j- The Eev. J. Mitford, in his ed. of Gray, cites ad 1.,
" And know, I have not yet the leisure to ie good.''''
Oldham, Ode, &t. 5—Worlis, 1. 85, ed. 1722.— Ed.
TABLE-TALK OP SAMUEL ROGERS. 3»
I believe few people know, what is certainly a
fact, that the Macleane who was hanged for rob-
bery, and who is mentioned in Gray's Long Storij, —
" He stood as mute as poor Macleane^'''' —
was brother to Maclaine, the translator of Mosheim.
Gray somewhere says that monosyllables should
be avoided in poetry : but there are many lines con-
sisting only of monosyllables, which could not pos-
sibly be improved. For instance, in Shakespeare's
Borneo and Juliet, —
"Thou canst not speak of what thou dost not feel ; "*
and in Pope's Eloisa to Ahelard, —
" Pant on thy lip, and to thy heart be prest ;
Give all thou canst, and let me dream the rest."
Matthias showed me the papers belonging to
Pembroke Hall, Cambridge, which he had bor-
rowed for his edition of Gray ; and among them
were several very indecent poems by Gray's friend
West, in whose day it was the fashion for young
men to write in that style. If West had lived, he
* Act. iii. PC. 3.— Ed.
40 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
would have been no mean poet : he has left some
lines which are certainly among the happiest imita-
tions of Pope ;
" How weak is man to reason's judging eye !
Born in this moment, in the next we die ;
Part mortal clay, and part ethereal fire,
Too proud to creep, too humble to aspire."*
When I was at Nuneham, I read Mason's manu-
script letters to Lord Harcourt, which contain no-
thing to render them worth printing. They evince
the excessive deference which Mason showed to
Gray, — " Mr. Gray's opinion " being frequently
quoted. There is in them a very gross passage
about Lady M. W. Montagu.
Mason's poetry is, on the whole, stiff and tiresome.
His best line is in the Elecjy on Lady Coventry ;
" Yes, Coventry is dead. Attend the strain,
Daughters of Albion ! ye that, light as air.
So oft have tripp'd in her fantastic train,
With liearts as gay, and faces half as fair.^^
See Mason's Gray, p. 20, ed. 4to. — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 41
Topham Beauclerk (Johnson's friend) was a
strangely absent person. One day he had a party
coming to dinner ; and, just before their arrival, he
went upstairs to change his dress. He forgot all
about them ; thought that it was bed-time, pulled
off his clothes, and got into bed. A servant, who
presently entered the room to tell him that his
guests were waiting for him, found him fast asleep.
I remember taking Seattle's Minstrel down from
my father's shelves, on a fine smnmer evening, and
reading it, for the first time, with such delight ! It
still charms me (I mean the First Book ; the Second
Book is very inferior).
During my youth umbrellas were far from com-
mon. At that time every gentleman's family had
one umbrella, — a huge thing, made of coarse cotton,
— which used to be taken out with the carriage, and
which, if there was rain, the footman held over the
ladies' heads, as they entered, or alighted from, the
carriage.
42 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
My first visit to France was in company with
Boddington, just before the Revolution began.
When we arrived at Calais, we saw both ladies and
gentlemen walking on the pier with small fox-muffs.
While we were dining there, a poor monk came into
the room and asked us for charity ; and B. annoyed
me much by saying to him, "II faut travailler."*
The monk bowed meekly, and withdrew. Nothing
would satisfy B. but that we should ride on horse-
back the first stage from Calais ; and accordingly, to
the great amusement of the inn-keeper and chamber-
maid, we were furnished with immense jack-boots
and hoisted upon our steeds. When we reached
Paris, Lafayette gave us a general invitation to dine
with him every day. At his table we once dined
with about a dozen persons (among them the Duke
de la Rochefoucauld, Condorcet, &c.), most of whom
afterwards came to an untimely end.
At a dinner-party in Paris, given by a French
* " But -sve distinguish, said I, laying my hand upon the sleeve
of his (the Monk's) tunic, in return for his appeal, — we distin-
guish, my good father, betwixt those wlio wish only to eat the
tread of their 07vn laloiir, and those who eat the bread of other
people's, and have no other plan in life but to get through it in
sloth and ignorance, for the love of God. Sterne's Seyitimental
Journey, — The Monh. — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGEES. 43
noblemau, I saw a black bottle of English porter
set on the table as a great rarity, and drunk out of
small glasses.
Boddington had a wretchedly bad memory ; and,
in order to improve it, he attended Feinaigle's lec-
tm-es on the Art of Memory. Soon after, somebody
asked Boddington the name of the lecturer ; and,
for his life, he could not recollect it. — When I was
asked if I had attended the said lectures on the
Art of Memory, I replied, " No : I wished to learn
the Art of Forgetting."*
One morning, when I was a lad, Wilkes came
into our banking-house to solicit my father's vote.
My father happened to be out, and I, as his re-
presentative, spoke to Wilkes. At parting, Wilkes
shook hands with me ; and I felt proud of it for a
week after.
He was quite as ugly, and squinted as much, as
liis portraits make him ; but he was very gentlemanly
* " Themistocles quidem, cum ei Simonides, an quis alius,
artem inemoriai polliceretur, Ohlivionis, inquit, mallem; nam
niemini etiavi qucc nolo, ohlivisci non 2'ossum quce volo.'^ Cicero
de Fin. ii. 32.— Ed.
U RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
in appearance and manners. I think I sec him at
this moment, walking through the crowded streets of
tlie City, as Chamberlain, on his way to Guildhall, in
a scarlet coat, military boots, and a bag-wig, — the
hackney-coachmen in vain calling out to him, " A
coach, your honour? "
Words are so twisted and tortured by some
writers of the present day, that I am really sorry for
them, — I mean, for the words. It is a favourite
fancy of mine that perhaps in the next world the use
of words may be dispensed with, — that our thoughts
may stream into each other's minds without any
verbal communication.
When a young man, I went to Edinburgh, car-
rying letters of introduction (from Dr. Kippis, Dr.
Price, &c.) to Adam Smith, Eobertson, and others.
When I first saw Smith, he was at breakfast, eating
strawberries ; and he descanted on the superior flavour
of those grown in Scotland.''' I found him very
* Every Englishman who has tasted the strawberries of Scot-
land will allow that Smith was right. -Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGEES. 45
kind and communicative. He was (what Kobertson
was not) a man who had seen a great deal of the
world. Once, in the com'se of conversation, I hap-
pened to remark of some writer, that " he was rather
superficial, — a Voltaire." — " Sir," cried Smith, strik-
ing the table with his hand, " there has been but one
Voltaire ! "
Eobertson, too, was very kind to me. He, one
morning, spread out the map of Scotland on the
floor, and got upon his knees, to describe the route
I ought to follow in making a tour on horseback
through the Highlands.
At Edinburgh I became acquainted with Henry
Mackenzie, who asked me to correspond with him ;
which I (then young, romantic, and an admirer of
his Julia cle Bouh'ujne) willingly agreed to. We ac-
cordingly wrote to each other occasionally during
several years ; but his letters, to my surprise and
disappointment, were of the most commonplace de-
scription. Yet his published writings display no
ordinary talent ; and, like those of Beattie, they are
remarkable for a pure English idiom, — which cannot
be said of Hume's writings, beautiful as they are.
The most memorable day perhaps which I ever
4G EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
j)assed was at Edinburgh, — a Sunday ; when, after
breakfasting with Eobertson, I heard him preach in
the forenoon, and Blair in the afternoon, then took
coffee with the Piozzis, and supped with Adam
Smith. Eobertson's sermon was excellent both for
matter and manner of delivery. Blair's was good,
but less impressive ; and his broad Scotch accent
offended my ears greatly.
My acquaintance with Mr. and Mrs. Piozzi began
at Edinburgh, being brought about by the landlord
of the hotel where they and I w^ere staying. He
thought that I should be gratified by "hearing Mr.
Piozzi's piano-forte : " and they called upon me, on
learning from the landlord wdio I was, and that Adam
Smith, Eobertson, and Mackenzie had left cards
for me.
I was afterwards very intimate with the Piozzis,
and visited them often at Streatham. The world
was most unjust in blaming Mrs. Thrale for marrying
Piozzi : he was a very handsome, gentlemanly, and
amiable person, and made her a very good husband.
In the evening he used to play to us most beautifully
on the piano. Her daughters never would see her
after that marriage ; and (poor woman) when she was
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 47
at a very great age, I have heard her say that " she
would go down upon her knees to them, if they
would only be reconciled to her."'"
I never saw Burns : I was within thirty miles of
Dumfries when he was living there ; and yet I did
not go to visit hun ; which I have regretted ever
since. — I think his Cottar's Saturday -Night the finest
pastoral in any language.
How incapable of estimating Burns's genius were
the worthy folks of Edinburgh ! Hem-y Mackenzie
(who ought to have known better) ad\dsed him to
take for his model in song-writing — Mrs. John
Hunter !t
* See Addenda at the end of the Table-T.alk.
f On this passage an accomplished northern critic (Mr.
Carruthers) has remarlied ; — " Mr. Rogers was in error here.
Henry Mackenzie from the first hailed Burns as a genius of no
ordinary rank, irrespective of his humble condition in societ)'.
It was Dr. Gregory who recommended the poems of Mrs. Hunter
to Burns, not as his model in song- writing, but to show how much
correctness and high polish enhance the value of short occasional
poems." The Inverness Courier for February 11th, 1856. — As a
■writer of songs, Mrs. Hunter is, no doubt, immeasurably inferior
to Burns : but her Cherokee Death-Song, and several other small
pieces which she wrote for music, are far from contemptible : see
her Poems, 1802.— Ed,
48 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
Sir John Henry Moore, who died in his t\Yenty-
fourth year, possessed considerable talent. His
L' Amour timide is very pretty.
[" L' Amour timide.
If in that breast, so good, so pure,
Compassion ever lov'd to dwell,
Pity the sorrows I endure ;
The cause — I must not, dare not tell.
The grief that on my quiet preys—*
That rends my heart— that checks my tongue, —
I fear will last me all my days,
But feel it will not last me long."]
Marivaux'sf Marianne is a particular favourite
with me : I have read it six times through ; and I
* Mr. Tiogers, I believe, was not aware that the second stanza
is taken from Montreuil ;
'• Ne me demandez plus, Sylvie,
Quel est le mal que je ressens.
Cast un mal que j"auray tout le temjis de ma vie,
Mais je ne I'auray pas long-temps."
(Eiivres. p. 602, ed. 1666.— Ed.
t At the Strawberry-Hill sale, Mr. Rogers's admiration of this
writer induced him to purchase his picture, — a miniature, by
LiotarJ, which had been painted for Horace Walpole. — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 4!>
have shed tears over it, after I was seventy, — not
so much at its pathos as at its generous senti-
ments.
The Abbe Dehlle (whom I knew well and liked
much) was of opinion that Marivaux's Paysan Par-
vemc was a greater literary effort than Marianne.
I once said to Delille, " Don't you think that
Voltaire's vers da socicte are the first of their kind? "
He replied, "Assuredly; the very first, and — the
last."
Dr. Parr had a great deal of sensibility. When I
read to him, in Lincoln's Inn Fields, the account of
O'Coigly's" death, the tears rolled down his cheeks.
One day. Mackintosh having vexed him by call-
ing O'Coigly "a rascal," Parr immediately rejoined,
" Yes, Jamie, he was a bad man, but he might have
* James O'Coigly (alias James Quigley, alias James Johu
Fivey) was tried for high treason at Maidstone, and hanged on
Penningdon Heath, 7th June, 1798. When he had hung about ten
minutes, he was beheaded ; and the head and body were imme-
diately buried under the gallows (the rest of his sentence, — that,
" while he was yet alive, his bowels should be taken out and
burnt before his face, &c., laving been remitted). — Ed.
4
50 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
been worse ; he was an Irishman, but he might have
been a Scotchman ; he was a priest, but he might
have been a lawyer ; he was a repubhcan, but he
might have been an apostate."
After then- quarrel (about Gerald), Parr often
spoke with much bitterness of Mackintosh : among
other severe things, he said that "Mackintosh came
up from Scotland with a metaphysical head, a cold
heart, and open hands." At last they were recon-
ciled, having met, for that purpose, in my house :
but their old familiarity was never fully re-estab-
lished.
Parr was frequently very tiresome in conversa-
tion, talking like a schoolmaster.
He had a horror of the east wind ; and Tom
Sheridan "once kept him prisoner in the house for a
fortnight by fixing the weathercock in that direc-
tion.
We have not a few charming prose-writers in
what may be called the middle style, — Addison,
Middleton, Jortin, &c. ; but in the highest prose-
style we have none to be compared with Bossuet,
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 51
Pascal, or Buffon. — We have far better tragic writers
than Corneille or Eacine ; but we have no one to be
compared with Mohere, — no one like him.
Swift's verses on his own death have an exquisite
facihty : but we are not to suppose that he wrote
them off-hand ; their ease is the result of very careful
composition.
Helen Maria Williams was a very fascinating
person ; but not handsome. I knew her intimately
in her youth, w^hen she resided in London with her
mother and sisters. They used to give very agreeable
evening-parties, at which I have met many of the
Scotch literati, Lord Monboddo, &c.
Late in life, Helen translated into English, and
very beautiful English too, Humboldt's long work,
Personal Narrative of Travels, &c. ; and, I believe,
nearly the whole impression still lies in Longman's
warehouse.
When she was in Paris, during the Kevolution,
she has seep men and women, who were waiting for
admission at the door of the theatre, suddenly leave
their station on the passing of a set of wretches
going to be guillotined, and then, after having ascer-
52 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
tained that none of their rehitions or friends were'
among them, very unconcernedly return to tlie door
of the theatre. — I have frequently dined with her at
Paris, when Kosciusko and other celehrated persons
were of the party.
When Lord Erskine heard that somebody had
died worth two hundred thousand pounds, he ob-
served, " Well, that's a very pretty sum to begin
the next world with."
" A friend of mine," said Erskine, " was suffering
from a continual wakefulness ; and various methods
were tried to send him to sleep, but in vain. At last
his physicians resorted to an experiment which suc-
ceedly perfectly : they dressed him in a watchman's
coat, put a lantern into his hand, placed him in a
sentry-box, and — he was asleep in ten minutes."
To all letters soliciting his "subscription" to any
thing, Erskine had a regular form of reply, viz.
" Sir, I feel much honoured by your application to
me, and I beg to subscribe " — here the reader had to
turnover the leaf — "myself your very ob' servant,"
&c.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 53
I wish I could recollect all the anecdotes of his
early life which Erskine used to relate with such
spirit and dramatic effect. He had been in the navy ;
and he said that he once managed to run a vessel
between two rocks, where it seemed almost impos-
sible that she could have been driven. He had also
been in the army ; and on one occasion saved the
life of a soldier who was condemned to death, by
making an earnest appeal in his behalf to the general
in command and his wife : Erskine having got the
pardon, rode off with it at full speed to the place of
execution, where he arrived just as the soldier was
kneeling, and the muskets were levelled for the
fatal shot.
Erskine used to say that when the hour came
that all secrets should be revealed, we should know
the reason why — shoes are always made too tight.
When he had a house at Hampstead, he enter-
tained the very best company. I have dined there
with the Prince of Wales, — the only time I ever had
any conversation with his royal highness. On that
occasion the Prince was very agreeable and familiar.
Among other anecdotes which he told us of Lord
Thurlow, I remember these two. The first was :
54 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
Thurlow once said to the Prince, " Sir, your father
will continue to be a popular king as long as he
continues to go to church every Sunday, and to be
faithful to that ugly woman, your mother ; but you,
sir, will never be popular," The other w^as this :
While his servants were carrying Thurlow up stairs to
his bed-room, just before his death, they happened to
let his legs strike against the bannisters, upon which
he uttered the last words he ever spohe, — a frightful
imprecation on " all their souls."
Erskine said that the Prince of Wales was quite
" a cosmogony man " (alluding to Tlie Vicar of Wake-
field), for he had only two classical quotations, — one
from Homer and one from Virgil, — which he never
failed to sport when there was any opportunity of
introducing them.'''
Latterly Erskine was very poor ; and no wonder ,^
for he always contrived to sell out of the funds w4ien
they were very low, and to buy in when they were
very high. "By heaven," he would say, "I am
* Mr. Luttrell, who was preseut when Mr. Rogers told this
anecdote, added, — " Yes, and the quotation from Virgil was always
given with a ridiculous error, ' Non illi imperium pelago, SEevumque
tridentem,' " c&c. ul^n. i. 138. — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGERS. 55
a perfect kite, all paper; the boys might fly me."
Yet, poor as he was, he still kept the best society :
I have met him at the Duke of York's, &c., &c.
I asked Erskine if he really was the author of
two little poems attributed to him, — The Geranium
aud The Birth of the Rose. He replied that The
Geranium was written by him ; that the other was
not his.
Here's an epigram by Erskine which is far from
bad (I know not if it has ever been printed) ;
"The French have taste in all they do,
AVhich we are quite without ;
For Nature, that to them gave Qoiit^
To us gave only gout."
Thomas Grenville" told me this curious fact.
When he was a young man, he one day dined with
Lord Spencer at Wimbledon. Among the company
was George Pitt (afterwards Lord Kivers), who de-
* The Right Hon. T. G. — Sometimes, towards the close of
his life, from lapse of memory, Mr. Rogers, in relating this anec-
dote, would state that he himself had been of the party at Lord
Spencer's. — Ed.
56 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
clared that he could tame the most furious animal
by looking at it steadily. Lord Spencer said, " Well,
there is a mastiff in the court-yard here, which is
the terror of the neighbourhood ; will you try your
powers on him?" Pitt agreed to do so; and the
company descended into the court-yard. A servant
held the mastiff by a chain, Pitt knelt down at
a short distance from the animal, and stared him
sternly in the face. They all shuddered. At a
signal given, the mastiff was let loose, and rushed
furiously towards Pitt, — then suddenly checked his
pace, seem confounded, and, leaping over Pitt's
head, ran away, and was not seen for many hours
after.
During one of my visits to Italy, while I was
walking, a little before my carriage, on the road,
not far from Vicenza, I perceived two huge dogs,
nearly as tall as myself, bounding towards me (from
out a gate-way, though there was no house in sight).
I recollected what Pitt had done ; and trembling
from head to foot, I yet had resolution enough to
stand quite still and eye them with a fixed look.
They gradually relaxed their speed from a gallop
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGEES. 57
to a trot, came up to me, stopped for a moment,
and then went back again.
Dunning (afterwards Lord Ashburtou) was " stat-
ing the law " to a jury at Guildhall, when Lord
Mansfield interrupted him by saying, " If that be
law, I'll go home and burn my books." — " My
Lord," replied Dunning, " you had better go home
and read them."
Dunning was remarkably ugly. One night, while
he was playing whist, at Nando's, with Home Tooke
and two others. Lord Thurlow called at the door,
and desired the waiter to give a note to Dunning
(with whom, though their politics were so different,
he was very intimate). The waiter did not know
Dunning by sight. " Take the note upstairs," said
Thmiow, "and deliver it to the ugliest man at the
card-table — to him who most resembles the knave
of spades." The note immediately reached its desti-
nation. — Home Tooke used often to tell this anec-
dote.
When I was young, we had (what we have not
now) several country-gentlemen of considerable
58 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
literary celebrity, — for instance, Hayley, Sargent
(author of The Mine), and Webb. There are some
good remarks on painting and on poetry scattered
through Webb's different pieces.
If Hayley was formerly over-rated, he is now
undervalued. He was a most accomplished person,
as indeed is evident from the notes to his various
poems, — notes which Lord Holland admires greatly.'"
His translation of the first Canto of the Infcrno\ is
on the whole good ; but he has omitted some of the
striking circumstances in the original.
When I first came forward as a poet, I was
highly gratified by the praise which Hayley bestowed
on my writings, and which was communicated to me
by Cadell the publisher.
I once travelled with Lord Lansdowne (when
Lord Henry Petty) to Bognor, in the neighbour-
hood of which Hayley was then living (not at
* " Lord Holland, the best informed and most elegnnt of our
writers on the subject of the Spanish theatre, declared that he
had been induced to learn that language bj' what Hayley had
written concerning the poet Ercilla." Gary's Life of Hayley. —
Lives of Enr/Ush Poets, S,-c., p. 347.— Ed.
f In the Notes to his Essay mi Poetry. — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 59
Eartham, but in a village* near it). I went to visit
him. The door was opened by a little girl ; and
when I said, " Is Mr. Hayley at home? " he himself
exclaimed, "Yes, he is" — (he recognized my voice,
though we had only met once before, — at Flax-
man's) ; and out he came, adding, " I am dehghted
to see you : if I had not known your voice, I should
not have let you in, for I am very busy." I took
coffee with him, and he talked most agreeably,
said that Lord Henry Petty was my travelling com-
panion, and that he was very anxious to be intro-
duced to him : but Hayley, who did not care a straw
for rank, could not be prevailed upon to see his
lordship.
In those days, indeed, praise was sweet to me,
even when it came from those who were far inferior
to Hayley : what pleasure I felt on being told that
Este had said of me, " A child of Goldsmith, sir ! "
Parson Este, in conjunction with Captain Top-
ham, edited the newspaper called The World. He
was reader at Whitehall ; and he read the service so
admirably, that Mrs. Siddons used frequently to go
to hear him. My sister and I once took him with
* Felpham.— Ed.
€0 EBCOLLECTIONS OF THE
US on a little tour ; and when we were at Eoss, he
read to us Pope's lines about " the man of Ross," —
I cannot describe how beautifully.
Este published a strange book, My oivn Life, and
A Journey through Flanders, &c. He used to throw
liimself into attitudes in the street. At last he went
mad, and died insane.
I wish somebody would collect all the Epigrams
written by Dr. Mansel (Master of Trinity College,
Cambridge, and Bishop of Bristol) : they are remark-
ably neat and clever.
When titled ladies become authoresses or com-
posers, their friends suffer for it. Lady asked
me to buy her book ; and I replied that I would do
so when I was rich enough. I went to a concert at
Lady — — 's, during which several pieces composed
b)y her daughter were performed ; and early next
morning, a music-seller arrived at my house, bringing
wnth him the daughter's compositions (and a bill re-
ceipted), price sixteen shillings.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGERS. Ci
Surely, in delicate touches of pathos Homer ex-
cels all poets. For instance, how beautiful is Andro-
mache's saying, after Hector's death, that Astyanax
had lost Ids i^layfclloio ;* and Helen's declaration con-
cerning the same hero, that he had never reproached
her !
[" Thee lost, he loses all, of father, both,
And equal playmate in one day depriv'd."
Cowper's Iliad, b. xxii.
" Yet never heard I once hard speech from tliee
Or taunt morose ; but if it ever chanc'd
That male or female of thy father's house
Blam'd me, and even if herself the queen
(For in the king, whate'er befell, I found
Always a father), thou hast interpos'd
Thy gentle temper and thy gentle speech
To sooth them." Id. b. xxiv.]
John Hunter believed that when there was only
one daughter and several sons in a family, the
daughter was always of a masculine disposition ; and
that when a family consisted of several daughters and
* But here Mr. Rogers recollecteil only Cowper's version, and
misunderstood it. Cowper uses " playmate " iov j'laymates gene-
O'alli/, The original is its ■^/J.ap 5' op<paviK.'hv iravacp-fiXiKa TrorSa
rlerja-i. — Ed.
€2 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
only one son, the son was always effeminate. Payne
Knight used to say that Homer seems to have enter-
tained the same idea ; for in the Iliad we find that
Dolon, who proves to be such a coward, was an only
son and had several sisters.
[" There was one Dolon in the camjj of Troy,
Son of Eumedes, herald of the gods,
Who with five daughters had no son beside."
Cowper's Iliad, b. x.]
Some traveller relates, that an Indian being asleep
in his canoe, which was fastened to the shore, a little
above the Falls of Niagara, an English soldier w^an-
tonly cut the fastenings, and the canoe drifted into
the current ; — that the Indian, after vainly trying
the use of his paddles, and perceiving that he was
just approaching the Falls, covered his head wath his
mat, lay down in the canoe, and calmly resigned
himself to his fate. So Homer, following nature,
tells us in the Odyssey that Ulysses, when his com-
panions had opened the bag wdiich contained the
winds, covered his head with his mantle, and lay
dow^a in the vessel.
["They loos'd the bag; forth issu'd all the winds,
And, rapt by tempests back, with fruitless tears
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGERS. C3
They mourn'd their native country lost again.
Just then awaking, in my troubled mind
I doubted, whether from the vessel's side
To plunge and perish, or with patient mind
To suffer and to live. The sufferer's part
At length I chose, and resolute surviv'd.
But, with my mantle wrapp'd around my brows,
I laid me down, till, hurried by the blast.
We, groaning, reach'd again th' iEoliau isle."
Cowper's Ochjsscy, b. x.]
It is inexcusable in any one to write illegibly.
When I was a schoolboy, I used to get hold of our
writing-master's copies and trace them by holding
them against the window : hence the plain hand I
now write. — When the great Lord Clive was in
India, his sisters sent him some handsome presents
from England ; and he informed them by letter that
he had returned them an " elephant " (at least so they
read the word) ; an announcement which threw them
into the utmost perplexity, — for what could they
possibly do with the animal? The true word was
" equivalent."*
* Those who have seen autograph letters of Dr. Parr will not
easily believe that any handwriting could be more puzzling. A
€4 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
Eomney the painter used to say that the Grecian
architecture was the invention of glorious men, but
the Gothic that of Gods.
Thomas Grenville* told me that he was present
in the House when Lord North, suddenly rising from
his seat and going out, carried off on the hilt of his
sword the wig of Welbore Ellis, who was stooping to
take up some papers. — I have myself often seen Lord
North in the House. While sitting there, he would
frequently hold a handkerchief to his face ; and once,
after a long debate, when somebody said to him,
" My lord, I fear you have been asleep," he replied,
" I wish I had."
Sheridan, Tickell, and the rest of their set de-
lighted in all sorts of practical jokes. For instance^
while they were staying with Mr.f and Mrs. Crewe
Fellow of Magdalen College (who himself told me the circumstance)
received one day a note from Parr, to say that he was on his way to
Oxford, would sup with him that night, and would be glad to have
t}vo eggs (so my informant read the words) got ready for his supper.
Accordingly, on his arrival, the eggs were served up in all due form
to the hungry Doctor, Avho no sooner saw them than he flew into
a violent passion. Instead of eggs he had written lohstcrs. — Ed.
* The Eight Honourable T. G.— Ed.
t Raised to the peerage (as Lord Crewe) in 1800. — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGERS. C5
(at Crewe Hall), Mrs. Sheridan and Mrs. Crewe
would be driving out in the carriage, Sheridan and
Tickelh'' riding on before them : suddenly, the ladies
would see Sheridan stretched upon the ground, ap-
parently in the agonies of death, and Tickell stand-
ing over him in a theatrical attitude of despair.
— Again, Mr. Crewe expressed a great desire to
meet Eichardson (author of Tlic Fugitive), of whom
he had heard Sheridan and Tickell talk with
much admiration. " I have in-vdted him here," said
Sheridan," and he will positively be with us to-mor-
row." Next day, accordingly, Richardson made his
appearance, and horrified the Crewes by the vul-
garity and oddness of his manners and language.
The fact w^as, Sheridan had got one of Mr. Crewe's
tenants to personate Richardson for the occasion. — I
don't know whether Richardson's Fugitive is a good
comedy or not :f but I know that Mrs. Jordan
* Ts it necessary to mention that Ticlvell (author of T/ie Wreath
of Fashion, a poem, of Antieijfation,^ prose pamphlet, &c. &c.) was
one of Sheridan's most intimate friends ; and that he and Sheridan
had married sisters ? — Ed.
f It is far from a contemptible one : and it must have been
extremely well acted ; for, besides tlie two performers whom Mr.
Rogers mentions, Dodd, Parsons, Palmer, Kiug, Miss Farren, and
Miss Pope, had parts in it.— Ed.
5
66 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
played very sweetly in it, and that Wewitzer per-
formed a Frenchman most amusingly.
I'll tell you another of Sheridan's youthful pranks.
One night, as he, Fitzpatrick, and Lord John Town-
shend, came out of Drury-lane Theatre, they ob-
served, among the vehicles in waiting, a very hand-
some phaeton with a groom in it. Sheridan asked
the groom to let him get into the phaeton for five
minutes, just to try it. The man consented, and
stepped down. Sheridan got in, made Fitzpatrick
and Townshend get in also, and then drove off at
full speed for Vauxhall, w^hither they were pursued
by the groom and a great crowd, shouting and haloo-
ing after them. At Vauxhall the groom recovered
the phaeton, and was pacified by the present of a few
shillings. But it would seem that this exploit had
been attended with some unpleasant consequences to
Sheridan, for he could not bear any illusion to it :
he would say, " Pray, do not mention such an ab-
surd frolic."
I was present on the second day of Hastings's trial
in Westminster Hall ; when Sheridan was listened to
with such attention that you might have heard a pin
drop. — During one of those days Sheridan, having ob-
TABLE-TALK OP SAMUEL ROGERS. 67
served Gibbon among the audience, took occasion to
mention " the kiminous author of The Decline and
Fall.'"''' After he had finished, one of his friends
reproached him with flattering Gibbon. " Why,
what did I say of him?" asked Sheridan. — "You
called him the luminous author," &c. — "Luminous!
oh, I meant — voluminous."
Sheridan once said to me, " When posterity read
the speeches of Burke, they will hardly be able to
believe that, during his life-time, he was not consi-
dered as a first-rate speaker, not even as a second-
rate one."
When the Duke of York was obliged to retreat
before the French, | Sheridan gave as a toast, " The
Duke of York and his brave followers."
* But, as reported iu TJie Morning Chronicle, June, 14, 1788, the
expression used by Sheridan was '' the correct periods of Tacitus
or tlie luminous 2>agc of Gibbon.'' — " Before my departure from
Englacd, I was present at tlie august spectacle of Mr. Hastings's
trial iu Westminster Hall, It is not my province to absolve or
condemn the Governor of India ; but Mr. Sheridan's eloquence
demanded my applause ; nor could I hear without emotion the
personal compliment which he imid me in the presence of the
British nation." Gibbon's Memoirs, Sec. p. 172, ed. 4to. — Ed.
f On the campaigns of his Royal Highness, see 3Iemoir of the
Duhe of York in The Gentleman's Magazine for January 1827,
pp. 71, 2, 3.— Ed.
€8 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
Sheridan was dining one day at my house when I
produced the versified translation of Aristanetus,"'''
saying, " Yoit are guilty of this." He made no
reply, but took it, and put it, with a smile, into his
pocket (from which, of course, I drew it out). What
an odd fancy, to turn Aristaenetus into verse ! Hal-
hed, who assisted Sheridan in that translation, pub-
lished imitations of Martial, and some of them are
very good.
I have seen Sheridan in company with the fa-
mous Pamela.! She was lovely — quite radiant with
beauty ; and Sheridan either was, or pretended to
be, violently in love with her. On one occasion I
remember that he kept labouring the whole evening
at a copy of verses in French, which he intended to
present to her, every now and then writing down a
* Printed, without the translator's name, in 177J. — Ed.
f Madame de Genlis's adojited daughter, who was married at
Tournay, in 1792, to Lord Edward Fitzgerald. According to-
Madame de Genlis, in her ]\lemolrs, two da3-s before she and
Pamela left England, Sheridan declared himself, in her presence,
the lover of Pamela, who accepted his hand with j^leasure ; and it
was settled that they should be married — " on our return from
France, which was expected to take place in a fortnight." See
Memoirs of Sheridan, vol. ii. 19G, ed. 1827, by Moore, who suspects,
not without good reason, that in this affair Sheridan was only
amusing himself. — En.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 69
word or two on a slip of paper with a pencil. The
best of it was, that he understood French very im-
perfectly.
I prefer Sheridan's Bivals to his School for Scan-
dal : exquisite humour pleases me more than the
finest wit.
Sheridan was a great artist : what could be more
happy in expression than the last of these lines ? you
may see it illustrated in the park every Sunday : —
" Hors'd in Cheapside, scarce yet the gayer spark
Achieves the Sunday triumph of the Park ;
Scarce yet you see him, dreading to be late,
Scour the New Road and dash through Grosvenor Gate ;
Anxious — yet timorous too— his steed to show,
The hack Bucephalus of Rotten Row.
Careless he seems, yet, vigilantly sly,
Woos the stray glance of ladies passing by,
While his off-heel, insidiously aside.
Provokes the caper which he seems to chide.^^'^
I regret that Moore should have printed those
memoranda which prove how painfully Sheridan ela-
* Frologiie to Pizzaro (but originally written for, and spoken
■before, Lady Cra.\en's Jliniature Picture). — Ed,
70 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
borated his compositions ; for, though the judicious
few will feel that Sheridan was quite right in doing
so, the public generally will think the less of him for
it. — No wonder that those memoranda were extant :
Sheridan was in the habit of putting by, not only all
papers written by himself, but all others that came
into his hands. Ogle told me that, after his death,
he found in his desk sundry unopened letters written
by his (Ogle's) mother, who had sent them to Sheri-
dan to be franked.
Sheridan did not display his admirable powers in
company till he had been warmed by wine. During
the earlier part of dinner he was generally heavy and
silent ; and I have heard him, when invited to drink
a glass of wine, reply, " No, thank you ; I'll take — a-
little small beer." After dinner, when he had had a-
tolerable quantity of wine, he was brilliant indeed.
But when he went on swallowing too much, he be-
came downright stupid : and I once, after a dinner-
party at the house of Edwards, the bookseller in Pall
Mall, walked with him to Brookes's, when he had
absolutely lost the use of speech.
Sheridan, Sir Walter (then Mr.) Scott, and Moore
were one day dining with me, and Sheridan was
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGEES. 71
talking in his very best style, when, to my great
vexation, Moore (who has that sort of restlessness
which never allows him to be happy where he is)
suddenly interrupted Sheridan by exclaiming, " Isn't
it time to go to Lydia White's ? "*
Dming his last illness, the medical attendants
apprehending that they would be obliged to perform
an operation on him, asked him " if he had ever
undergone one." — " Never," rephed Sheridan, " ex-
cept when sitting for my picture, or having my hair
cut."
Sheridan had very fine eyes, and he was not a
little vain of them. He said to me on his death-
bed, "Tell Lady Besborough that my eyes will look
up to the coffin-lid as brightly as ever."
* Miss Lydia White (long since dead) was a lady Avho de-
lighted in giving parties to as many celebrated people as she could
collect. The following instance of her readiness in reply was com-
municated to me by my friend the Rev. W. Harness. '• At one of
Lydia White's small and most agreeable dinners in Park Street,
the company (most of them, except the hostess, being Whigs) were
discussing in rather a querulous strain the desperate prospects of
their party. ' Yes,' said Sydney Smith, ' we are in a most deplor-
able condition : we must do something to help ourselves ; I think
we had better sacrifice a Tory virgin.' This was pointedly ad-
dressed to Lydia White, who at once catchingand applying the allu-
sion to Iphigenia, answered, ' I believe there is nothing the Whigs
would not do to raise the ivind' " — Ed.
72 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
Soon after his death, Lord Holland wrote a short
biographical sketch of him, in which it is stated that
he showed during the closing scene a deep sense of
devotion. But, on my asking the Bishop of London,
who had been called in to read prayers to him, what
were the religious feelings of Sheridan in his last
moments, the answer was, " I had no means of know-
ing; for, when I read the prayers, he w^as totally
insensible ; Mrs. Sheridan raising him up, and joining
his hands together."'''
In his dealings with the world, Sheridan cer-
tainly carried the ]_nivilecjes of genius as far as they
were ever carried by man.
We used all to read and like Tickell'sf Wreath of
* Let us hear, however, what Smyth says on this point in his
{]3rivately -printed) Memoir of Mr. Sheridan. " But the Jiext day
he [Sheridan] was not better, and I never saw him. I talked
about him, while I sat with Mrs. Sheridan ; as much, at least, as
I thought she chose. I durst not ask much. She told me she
had sent for her friend Dr. Howley, then Bishop of Loudon, who
had instantly come up from Oxfordshire to pray by him. 'And
Mr. Sheridan,' I ventured to say, ' what of him ? ' 'I never saw,'
she replied, ' such awe as there was painted in his countenance — I
shall never forget it.' " p. 68. — Ed.
f See note, p. 04. — Ed,
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 73
Fashion, and his other pieces, as they came out. I
can still repeat several of the songs in his opera, Tlia
Carnival of Venice,* though they are only so-so : here
is part of one of them ;
" Soon as the busy day is o'er,
And evening comes with pleasant shade.
We gondoliers, from shore to shore,
Merrily ply our jovial trade ;
And while the moon shines on the stream,
And as soft music breathes around,
The feathering oar returns the gleam,
And dips in concert to the sound.
Down by some convent's mouldering walls
Oft we bear th' enamour'd youth ;
Softly the watchful fair he calls,
Who whispers vows of love and truth," &c.
It is quite true, as stated in several accounts of
him, that Fox, when a very young man, was a pro-
digious dandy, — wearing a little odd French hat,
shoes with red heels, &c. He and Lord Carlisle
* No portion of this opera, except the songs, was ever printed.
—Ed.
74 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
once travelled from Paris to Lyons for the express
purpose of buying waistcoats ; and during the whole
journey they talked about nothing else.
Fox (in his earlier days, I mean), Sheridan, Fitz-
patrick, &c., led such a life ! Lord Tankerville as-
sm'ed me that he has played cards with Fitzpatrick
at Brookes' s from ten o'clock at night till near six
o'clock the next afternoon, a waiter standing by to
tell them " whose deal it was," they being too sleepy
to know.
After losing large sums at hazard. Fox would go
home, — not to destroy himself, as his friends some-
times feared, but — to sit down quietly, and read
Greek.
He once won about eight thousand pounds ; and
one of his bond-creditors, who soon heard of his
good luck, presented himself, and asked for pay-
ment. "Impossible, sir," replied Fox; "I must
first discharge my debts of honour." The bond-
creditor remonstrated. "Well, sir, give me your
bond." It was delivered to Fox, who tore it in
pieces and threw them into the fire. " Now, sir,"
said Fox, "my debt to you is a debt of honour;'*
and immediately paid him.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGERS. 75
When I became acquainted with Fox, he had
given up that kind of hfe entirely, and resided in
the most perfect sobriety and regularity at St. Anne's
Hill. There he was very happy, delighting in study,
in rural occupations and rural prospects. He would
break from a criticism on Person's Euripides to look
for the little pigs. I remember his calling out to the
Chertsey hills, when a thick mist, which had for some
time concealed them, rolled away, " Good morning
to you ! I am glad to see you again." There was
a walk in his grounds which led to a lane through
which the farmers used to pass ; and he would stop
them, and talk to them, with great interest, about
the price of turnips, &c. I was one day with him
in the Louvre, when he suddenly turned from the
pictures, and, looking out at the window, exclaimed,
" This hot sun will burn up my tm-nips at St. Anne's
Hill."
In London mixed society Fox conversed little ;
but at his own house in the country, with his inti-
mate friends, he would talk on for ever, with all the
openness and simplicity of a child : he has continued
talking to me for half-an-hour after he had taken
up his bed-room candle. — I have seen it somewhere
76 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
stated that Fox liked to talk about great people :
nothing can be more untrue ; he hardly ever al-
luded to them. I remember, indeed, that he once
mentioned to me Queen Charlotte, calling her " that
bad woman."
He was very shy, and disliked being stared at.
Windham and I accompanied him one night to
Vauxhall, where he was much annoyed at being
followed about, as a spectacle, from place to place.
On such occasions he was not only shy, but gauche.
One morning at his own house, while speaking
to me of his travels. Fox could not recollect the
name of a particular town in Holland, and was much
vexed at the treacherousness of his memory. He
had a dinner party that day ; and, just as he had
applied the carving-knife to the sirloin, the name of
the town having suddenly occurred to him, he roared
out exultingly, to the astonishment of the company,
^' Gorcum, Gorcum ! "
Fox saw Voltaire at Ferney. Their interview
was described to me in a letter by Uvedale Price,*
* Created a baronet iu 1828. — A small portion of that letter,
about Fox's visit to Voltaire, has been printed in Memorials mid
Correspondence of C. J. Fox, edited hj Lord J. Hussell, vol. i. 46.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 77
who went there with him : but unfortunately I no
longer possess that letter ; I lent it to Lord Holland,
and never could get it back.
— An account of the same visit, from the pen of the same writer,
occurs in a letter to my unfortunate friend the late E, H. Barker,
dated March 24, 1827, from which I shall not scruple to make a
long extract : —
" But among the characters of the second generation so ably
drawn by Mr. Butler [in his Hejnuiiscences'], to me much the most
interesting is that of Charles Fox. Our friendship and intimacy,
which began at Eton, continued without interruption through life.
While Etonians, we acted together in the plays given at Holland
House, which, from the high character and connections of itsowner,
from the premature talents of C. Fox, two years j'ounger than
myself,and from the peculiarly lovely countenance and sweet-toned
voice of Lady Sarah Lenox, our Jane Shore (whom, as Gloucester,
I could hardly bring myself to speak to as harshly as my character
required), these plays had at the time great celebrity. We were at
Oxford together, were almost constantly together at Florence,
where we studied Italian under the same master at the same time.
" From Rome we travelled together along the eastern coast to
Venice, and thence to Turin, where we met by appointment our ex-
cellent friend and schoolfellow,LordFitzwilliam,who ismentioned
by Mr. Butler in a few words, but most impressively, as spoken of
him by Fox. All this,! am aware, can have little interest for you :
but having the excuse of Mr. Butler's reminiscences, I have in-
dulged myself in putting down mine, as they recall a period of great
and unmixed delight. I then witnessed daily and hourly that
characteristic good nature, that warm and unalterable attachment
to his friends of which Mr. B. speaks in so impressive a manner :
and likewise witnessed on more than one occasion, what was no
less characteristic, his abhorrence of any thing like tyranny, oppres-
sion, or cruelty. Having got so far on my journey, I shall e'en
proceed with it : from Turin we all three set out for Geneva, but
78 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
It is well known that Fox visited Gibbon at Lau-
sanne; and he was much gratified by the visit.
Gibbon, he said, talked a great deal, walking up and
down the room, and generally ending his sentences
with a genitive case ; every now and then, too, cast-
ing a look of complacency on his own portrait by Sir
Joshua Eeynolds, which hung over the chimney-piece,
— that wonderful portrait, m which, while the odd-
ness and vulgarity of the features are refined away,
the likeness is perfectly preserved. — Fox used to say
that Gibbon's History was immortal, because nobody
could do without it, — nobody, without vast expense
of time and labour, could get elsewhere the informa-
went out of our direct road to that most singular and striking place,
the Graude Chartreuse, so finely described in Gray's Alcaic Ode.
From Geneva Fox and I went to Voltaire at Ferney, having ob-
tained a permission then seldom granted. It is an event in one's
life to have seen and heard that extraordinary man : he was old and
infirm, and, in answer to Fox's note and request, said that the name
of Fox was sufficient, and that he could not refuse seeing us, ' mais
que noiis venionsjwiir I'exterrer.'' He conversed in a lively manner,
Avalkiug with us to and fro in a sort of alley ; and at parting gave
us a list of some of his works, adding, ' Ce sont ties livres do qiioi il
faut se immir,'' they were such as would fortify our young minds
against religious prejudices. Fox quitted us at Geneva, went to
England, and commenced his ijolitical career. I went with Fitz-
william through the finest parts of Switzerland, and then down the
Ehine to Spa, and met him again at Paris : and there ends my
foreign journal, and high time it should." — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 79
tion which it contains. — I think, and so Lord Gren-
ville thought, that the introductory chapters are the
finest part of that history : it was certainly more
difficult to write them than the rest of the work.
Fox had the highest admiration of Lord North ; he
considered him a consmnmate debater. He thought
very highly too of Dr. Laurence's speeches ; and
said that they only failed in making a deep impres-
sion because his manner of delivery was so bad. He
disliked Sheridan's famous speeches at Hastings's
trial :" yet they fascinated Burke ; and to them Fox
attributed the change of style which is visible in
Burke's later compositions. He did not greatly ad-
mire Burke's celebrated Beflections.
Never in my life did I hear anything equal to
Fox's speeches in reply, — they were wonderful. —
Burke did not do himself justice as a speaker : his
manner w^as hurried, and he always seemed to be in
a passion.! — Pitt's voice sounded as if he had worsted
in his mouth.
* In Westminster Hall. — It must be rememberel, however, that
the perhaps more famous speech in the House of Commons, 7th
Feb. 1787, in which Sheridan brought forward against Hastings
the charge relative to the Begum Princesses of Oude, was publicly
eulogised by Fox as a matchless piece of eloquence. — Ed.
•(• " Burke," said Mr. Maltby (see notice prefixed to the Porso-
80 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
Person said that " Pitt carefully considered his
sentences before he uttered them ; but that Pox
threw himself into the middle of his, and left it to
God Almighty to get him out again."*
Malone \yas one day walking down Dover Street
with Burke, when the latter all at once drew himself
up and carried his head aloft with an air of great
hauteur. Malone perceived that this was occasioned
by the approach of Fox, who presently passed them
on the other side of the street. After Fox had gone
by, Burke asked Malone very eagerly, " Did he look
at me ? "
Fox once said to me that "Burke was a most
impracticable person, a most unmanageable colleague
— that he never would support any measure, however
convinced he might be in his heart of its utility, if it
niana in this volume), "always disnppointed me as a speaker. I
have heard him, during his speeches in the House, make use of the
most vulgar expressions, such as ' three nips of a straw,' ' three
skips of a louse,' &c. ; and, on one occasion when I was present, he
introduced, as an illustration, a most indelicate storyabout a French
king who asked his physician why his natural children were so
much finer than his legitimate." — Ed.
* Porson was thinking of Sterne. " I begin with writing the
first sentence, — and trusting to Almighty God for the second."
Tristram SJuindi/, vol. v. 192, ed. 1775. — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGEllS. 81
had been first proposed by another : "* and he once
used these very words, " After all, Burke was a
damned wrong-headed fellow, through his whole life
jealous and obstinate."
Mrs. Crewe t told me that, on some occasion, when
it was remarked that Fox still retained his early love
for France and every thing French, Burke said^
" Yes ; he is like a cat, — he is fond of the house,
though the family be gone."
I once dined at Mr. Stone's (at Hackney) with
Fox, Sheridan, Talleyrand, Madame de Genlis, Pa-
mela, and some other celebrated persons of the time.
A natural son of Fox, a dumb boy (who was the
very image of his father, and who died a few years
after, when about the age of fifteen) was also there,
having come, for the occasion, from Braidwood's
Academy. To him Fox almost entirely confined his
attention, conversing with him by the fingers ; and
* " Cassius. But what of Cicero ? shall we sonntl him ?
I think he will stand very strong with us.
» * » * *
Brutus. O name him not : let us not break with him ;
For he will never follow ainj thing
That otlier men begin ."
Shakespeare's Julius Ccvsar, act ii. sc. \. — Ed.
f Afterwards Lady Crewe. — Ed.
6
82 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
their eyes glistened as they looked at each other.
Talleyrand remarked to me, " how strange it was, to
dine in company with the first orator in Europe, and
only see him talk with his fingers ! " — That day I
offended Madame de Genlis by praising the Conies
Mormix of Marmontel, with whom she had quarrelled
violently.
At a dinner-party, where I was, Fox met Aikin.
" I am greatly pleased with your Miscellaneous
Pieces, Mr. Aikin," said Fox (alludmg to the volume
written partly by Aikin, and partly by his sister Mrs.
Barbauld). Aikin bowed. "I particularly admire,"
continued Fox, "your essay Against Inconsistency
in our Exijectations ." " That," replied Aikin, " is my
sister's." — "I like much," resumed Fox, "your
essay On Monastic Institutions." " That," answered
Aikin, "is also my sister's." Fox thought it best to
say no more about the book.
I was present at a dinner-party given by William
Smith in Westminster, when Fox would not take
the slightest notice of Home Tooke, — would not
look at him, nor seem to hear any of the good things
he said. It was the most painful scene of the kind
I was ever witness to, except what occurred at my
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 83
own house, when the Duke of WelHngton treated
Lord Holland much in the same way.
At another of Smith's dinners, the conversation
turned on Wilberforce ; when somebody put the
query, — If Wilberforce were compelled to desert
•either the cause of the slaves, or the party of Mr.
Pitt, to which would he adhere? " Oh," said Fox,
■■" he would be for Barabbas." But that was said by
Fox merely as a joke ; for he greatly respected Pitt ;
and I remember that, on another occasion at Smith's,
when Tierney, &c., endeavoured to persuade Fox
that Pitt was not uttering his real sentiments about
the abolition of the slave-trade, he would not be so
persuaded.''' — Pitt, too, had the highest respect for
Fox. One night, after Fox had been speaking, a
noble lord, coming out of the House with Pitt, be-
gan to abuse Fox's speech. " Don't disparage it,"
gaid Pitt ; " nobody could have made it but himself."
The Duke of Kichmond, Fox, and Burke, were
once conversing about history, philosophy, and poetry.
The Duke said, "I prefer reading history to philoso-
* " During the debates on the war with France, I heard Fox
■characterise a speech of Pitt as ' one that would have excited the
admiration and envy of Demosthenes.' " Mk. Maltby (see note
prefixed to the Porsoniana in this volume). — Ed.
84 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
phy or poetry, because history is truths Both Fox
and Burke disagreed with him : they thought that
poetry was truth, being a representation of human
nature : and Fox had some thoughts of writing an
essay on the subject. — Lady Glenbervie told me that
her father Lord North dishked reading history, be-
cause he always doubted its truth/''
In 1792 the Duke of Portland called a meet-
ing of the Whigs at Burlington House, to consider
the propriety of their supporting the Proclamation
against seditious writings and democratical conspi-
racies. Francis Duke of Bedford went there. On
entering the room, he said to the Duke of Portland,
"Is Mr. Fox here?" " No."— " Has he been in-
vited?" "No."— "Then," replied the Duke of
Bedford, "I must wish you all good mornmg;" and
immediately withdrew.! The Duke of Bedford was
* " Thinking to amuse my father once, after his retirement
from the ministr)', I offered to read a book of historj'. ' Any thing
hnt history,' said he ; 'for history must be false.' " Walpollana,.
voh i. CO.— Ed.
f Many years after I had written down this anecdote, Mr.Eogers
remarked to me " how poorly " it is told in Lord Holland's llemoirs
of the Whiff Parti/, i. 16 (1852) : "The Dukeof Bedford,on hearing
that Mr. Fox was not likely to come, drily observed, ' Then I am
sure I have nothing to do heie,' and left the room." — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 85
stanch to his principles till the hour of his death ;
and we owe him much.
Fox used to declare of himself that he was "a
most painstaking person." When he came into office,
finding that his handwriting was very bad, he took
lessons to improve it.
He one day pronounced hmiself to be a bad
carver, and, wdien Mrs. Fox confirmed it, he said,
" Yes, my dear, I thought you'd agree with me."
I saw Lunardi make the first ascent in a balloon
which had been witnessed in England. It w^as from
the Artillery Ground. Fox was there with his bro-
ther General F. The crowd was immense. Fox,
happening to put his hand down to his watch, found
another hand upon it, which he immediately seized.
" My friend," said he to the owner of the strange
hand, " you have chosen an occupation which will be
your ruin at last." — " 0, Mr. Fox," was the reply,
" forgive me, and let me go ! I have been driven to
this course by necessity alone ; my wife and children
are starving at home." Fox, always tender-hearted,
slipped a guinea into the hand, and then released it.
On the conclusion of the show. Fox was proceeding
to look what o'clock it was. " Good God," cried he,
86 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
"my watch is gone ! " — " Yes," answered General F.,.
" I know it is ; I saw your friend take it." — " Saw
him take it ! and you made no attempt to stop him ? "
— " Keally, you and he appeared to be on such good
terms with each other, that I did not choose to
interfere."
I was walking through the Louvre wdth Fox,
when he all but cut Mackintosh, passing him with
a nod and a "How d'ye do?" and he gave me to
understand that he had done so because he was angry
at Mackintosh for ha\'iug accepted a x^lace in India
from the Tories, Fitzpatrick, however, told me the
real cause of Fox's anger ; and it was this ; — Mrs,
Mackintosh had not called upon Mrs. Fox, whom Fox
had recently acknowledged as his wife. Such slight
things sometimes influence the conduct of great men.
Most unfortunately, one morning during break-
fast at St, Anne's Hill, I repeated and praised
Goldsmith's song, " When lovely woman stoops tO'
folly," &c., quite forgetting that it must necessarily
hurt the feelings of Mrs. Fox. She seemed a good
deal discomposed by it. Fox merely remarked,
" Some people write damned nonsense."
When Buonaparte said to Fox, he was con-
Table-talk of samuel Rogers. 87
vinced that Windham was implicated in the contriv-
ance of the Infernal Machine, Fox warmly repelled
such an aspersion on Windham's character, assuring
the First Consul that no Englishman would degrade
himself by being concerned in so vile a business. —
I told this to Windham, who answered very coldly,
"Well, I should have said the same of him under
similar circumstances." — I have heard Windham
speak very disrespectfully of Fox in the House,
after their political quarrel.
Fox said that Sir Joshua Eeynolds never enjoyed
Eichmond,* — that he used to say the human face
was his landscape. Fox did not much admire Sir
Joshua's pictures in the grand style ; he greatly pre-
ferred those of a playful character : he did not like
much even the Ugolino ; but he thought the boys in
the Nativity were charming.
Once, at Paris, talking to Fox about Le Sueur's
pictures, I said that I doubted if any ai'tist had ever
excelled Le Sueur in painting wJiite garments. Fox
replied that he thought Andrea Sacchi superior to
* Where Reynolds had a villa. — In Mr. Rogers's collection of
pictures is an exquisite landscape by Sir Joshua, — a view from
Richmond Hill, with the features of the scene a little altered.— Ed.
88 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
Le Sueur in that respect. I mention this to show
that Fox was not only fond of painting, but had
given minute attention to it.*
He was an eager chess-player : I have heard him
say, on coming down to breakfast, that he had not
been able to sleep for thinking about some parti-
cular move.
While young Betty was in all his glory, I went
with Fox and Mrs. Fox, after dining with them in
Arlington Street, to see him act Hamlet ; and, dur-
ing the play-scene, Fox, to my infinite surprise, said,
" This is finer than Garrick."t — How wise it was in
Kemble and Mrs. Siddons quietly to withdraw from
the stage during the Betty furor, and then as c[uietly
to return to it, as if nothing unusual had occurred !
* For au account of the delight which Fox received from
visitiDg the Louvre, see Trotter's Memoirs of Fox, p. 209. — Ed.
t Such criticism will now seem (and undoubtedly is) preposter-
ous. But we must recollect that there was a marvellous charm
about the young Pioscius. — " Northcote then spoke of the boy, as
he always calls him (Master Betty). He asked if I had ever seen
him act ; and I said, Yes, and was one of his admirers. He answer-
ed, ' Oh 1 yes, it was such a beautiful e£fusion of natural sensibility;
and then that graceful play of the limbs in youth gave such an
advantage over every one about him. Humphreys (the artist) said,
* He had never seen the little Apollo off the pedestal before.' "
Hazlitt's Conversations of Northcote, p. 23. — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 89
Fox said that Barry's Eomeo was superior to
Garrick's.
" If I had a son," observed Fox, " I should insist
on his frequently writing English verses, whether he
had a taste for poetry or not, because that sort of
composition forces one to consider very carefully the
exact meanings of words."
I introduced Wordsworth to Fox, having taken
him with me to a ball given by Mrs. Fox. " I am
very glad to see you, Mr. Wordsworth, though I am
not of your faction," was all that Fox said to him, —
meaning that he admired a school of poetry different
from that to which Wordsworth belonged.
Fox considered Burnet's style to be perfect. We
were once talking of an historian's introducing oc-
casionally the words of other writers into his work
without marking them as quotations, when Fox said,
" that the style of some of the authors so treated
might need a little mending, but that Burnet's re-
quired none."
He thought that Kobertson's account of Colum-
bus was very pleasingly written.
He was so fond of Dryden, that he had some idea
of editing his works. It w^as absurd, he said, not to
90 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
print the originals by Chaucer along with Dryden's
versions of them ; and absurd in Malone to print all
Dryden's Prefaces by themselves. "Dryden's imi-
tations of Horace," he would say, " are better than
the originals : how fine this is ! —
' Happy the man, and happy he alone,
He who can call to-day his own ;
He who, secure within, can say,
To-morrow, do thy worst, for I have liv'd to-day ;
Be fair or foul, or rain or shine,
The joys I have possess'd, in spite of Fate, are mine ;
Not Heaven itself upon the j)ast has power,
But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.' "*
One afternoon, at his own house, Fox w^as talk-
ing to me very earnestly about Dryden, when he
suddenly recollected that (being in office) he ought
to make his appearance at the King's levee. It was
so late that, not having time to change his dress, he
set off for Buckingham House " accoutred as he
was ; " and when somebody remarked to him that
his coat was not quite the thing, he replied, " No
* Twenty-ninth Ode of the First Booh of Horace parapUrased,
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 91
matter ; he [i.e. George the Third] is so bhnd that
he can't distinguish what I have on."
There was a period of his life when Fox used to
say that he could not forgive Milton for having oc-
casioned hini the trouble of reading through a poem
{Paradise Lost), three parts of which were not worth
reading. He afterwards, however, estimated it more
justly.* Milton's prose works he never could endure.
He said that Mrs. Sheridan's Sidney Biddidph was
the best of all modern novels. (By the by, Sheridan
used to declare that he had never read it !f)
When Fox was a young man, a copy of Mas-
singer accidently fell into his hands : he read it,
and, for some time after, could talk of nothing but
Massinger.
He thought so highly of the Isacco of Metastasio,
that he considered it as one of the four most beau-
tiful compositions produced during the century ; the
* In a letter to Trotter, after noticing the predominance of
" the grand and terrific and gigantic " in ^schylus, Fox continues ;
"This never suits my taste ; and I feel the same objection to most
parts of the Paradise Lost, though in that poem there are most
splendid exceptions, Eve, Paradise, &c." Trotter's JUevioirs of
Fox, p. 520.— Ed.
f The incident, in The School for Scandal, of Sir Oliver's
presenting himself to his relations in disguise, is manifestly taken
by Sheridan from his mother's novel. — Ed.
92 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
other three bemg Pope's Eloisa to Ahclarcl, Voltaire's
Zaire, and Gray's Elegy. "^^
" No one," said Fox, " could be an ill-tempered
man, who wrote so much nonsense as Swift did."
His admiration of Ariosto was extreme. — He
thought Petrarch's Latin letters better than his Son-
nets.
He once pointed out to me, as excellent, this pas-
sage of Paley " The distinctions of civil life are
almost always insisted upon too much, and urged too
far. Whatever, therefore, conduces to restore the
level, by qualifying the dispositions which grow out
of great elevation or depression of rank, improves the
character on both sides. Now things are made to
appear little by being placed beside what is great.
In which manner, superiorities, that occupy the whole
field of the imagination, will vanish or shrink to their
proper diminutiveness, when compared with the dis-
tance by which even the highest of men are removed
from the Supreme Being, and this comparison is
naturally introduced by all acts of joint worship. If
ever the poor man holds up his head, it is at church :
* Yet, we have been told, Fox did not consider the Elegy as
Gray's best poem : see p. 37. — Ed.
Table-talk of samuel rogees. 93
if ever the rich man views him with respect, it is
there : and both will be the better, and the public
profited, the oftener they meet in a situation, in
which the consciousness of dignity in the one is tem-
pered and mitigated, and the spirit of the other
erected and confirmed."*
Fox used to read Homer through once every
year. On my asking him, "Which poem had you
rather have written, the Iliad or the Odijssey ?" he
answered, " I know wliich I had rather read " (mean-
ing the Odi/ssey).-f
Euripides was his grand favourite among the
Greek poets. He fancied that Shakespeare must
have met with some translation of Euripides, | for he
could trace resemblances between passages of their
dramas : e. g. what Alcestis in her last moments says
about her servants is like what the dying Queen
Katharine (in Henry the Eighth) says about hers, &c.
He considered the CEdijms Colonels as the best
play of Sophocles; and he admired greatly his Electra.
* Mor. and Pol. PhilosojjJiy, b. v. ch. i. — Ed.
f "I suppose," says Fox, in a letter to Trotter, " as soon as j'ou
have done the Iliad, 3'ou will read the Odyssey, which, though cer-
tainly not so fine a poem, is, to my taste, still pleasanter to read."
Trotter's Memoirs of Fox, p. 494.— Ed. % A mere fancy.— Ed.
94 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
He did not much like Caesar's Commentaries ;
they appeared to him rather dry, and deficient in
thought. He said that the letter to Oppius and
Balbus/'- which is very little known, w^as the piece
that did Caesar most honour; and that he had once
transcribed it with the intention of sending it to
Buonaparte, when the news of the Duke d'Enghien's
death made him change his mind.
He observed that the Greek historians generally
* Extant in the collection of Cicero's Ejilst. ad Aft. lib. ix. 7. C.
It was written at the commencement of the civil war; and (in tlie
translation of Heberden) is as follows: " I am very glad that you
express in your letter liow much 3'ou approve of what has been
done at Corfinium. I shall willingly adoj^t your advice ; and the
more so, because of my own accord I had resolved to show every
lenity, aud to use my endeavours to conciliate Pompcius. Let us
try by these means if we can regain the affections of all people,
and render our victory lasting. Others from their cruelty have not
been able to avoid the hatred of mankind, nor long to retain their
victory ; except L. Sulla alone, whom I do not meaa to imitate.
Let this be a new method of conquering, to fortify ourselves with
kindness and liberality. How this may be done, some things occur
to my own mind, and many others may be found. To this subject I
request your attention. I have taken Cn. Magius, Pompeius's prie-
fect. I accordingly put in practice my own principle, and immedi-
ateh' released him. Already two of Pompeius's pnefects of engi-
neers have fallen into my power, and have been released. If they
are disposed to be grateful, they should exhort Pompeius to prefer
my friendship to that of these people, who have always been the
worst enemies to him and to me ; by whose artifices it has hap-
pened that the Republic has come into this condition." — Ed,
TABLE-TALK OP SAMUEL ROGERS. 95
told nothing but truth, while the Latin historians
generally told nothing but lies.
He was a constant reader of Virgil ; and had
been so from a very early period. There is at Hol-
land House a copy of Virgil covered with Fox's
manuscript notes, written when he was a boy, and
expressing the most enthusiastic admiration of that
poet.
He once told me that the extracts which he had
seen from Hippocrates had given him a high opinion
of that writer ; — that one of his aphorisms was excel-
lent, — "The second-best remedy is better than the
best, if the patient likes it best ; " — and that he in-
tended to read his works.
Afterwards, calling upon him in Stable Yard
when he happened to be ill, I found him reading
Hippocrates. — On that occasion I said I wished that
the new administration would put down the east
w'ind by an Act of Parliament. He replied, smiling
(and waking, as it were, from one of his fits of torpor),
that they would find it difficult to do that, but that
they would do as much good in that as they would
in any thing else.
He said that Lear, Othello, and Macbeth were
96 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
the best of Shakespeare's works ; that the first act of
Hamlet was pre-eminent ; that the ghost in that play
was quite unequalled, — there was nothing like it ;
and that Hamlet was not mad. — On another occa-
sion he said that the character of Macbeth was very-
striking and original, — that at first he is an object
of our pity, and that he becomes gradually worse
and worse, till at last he has no virtue left except
courage.
He thought Ealeigh a very fine writer. Boling-
broke he did not like. Surrey was " too old " for
him.
He said that Congreve's Way of the World was
a charming comedy, but his Mo7irning Bride alto-
gether execrable ; that Sheridan's Pizarro was the
worst thing possible.
He had never been able to read Mickle's Lusiad
through. He once met Mickle, and took a dislike
to him.
He was fond of the song, " The heavy hours are
almost past," by Lord Lyttelton ; whose son, he said,
was a very bad man, — downright wicked.
He thought Mrs. Barbauld's Life of Bichardson
admirable ; and regretted that she wasted her talents
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 07
in writing books for children (excellent as those
books might be), now that there were so many pieces
of that description.
The Adventurer, he said, was very poor; The
World far superior, and he had read it with pleasure.
He thought Tickell's* hues On the Death of
Addison quite perfect ; and he liked a large portion
of his Kensington Gardens.
He often spoke with high praise of Cowper's
Epistle to Joseph Hill. It was through Windham
that he first became acquainted with Cowper's poetry.
Very shortly before he died, he complained of
great uneasiness in his stomach ; and Cline advised
him to try the effects of a cup of coffee. It was ac-
cordingly ordered : but, not being brought so soon
as was expected, Mrs. Fox expressed some impa-
tience ; upon which Fox said, with his usual sweet
smile, " Eemember, my dear, that good coffee can-
not be made in a moment."
Lady Holland announced the death of Fox in
her own odd manner to those relatives and intimate
* "Tickell's merit," Wordsworth remarked to me, "is not
sufficiently known. I think him one of the very best writers of
occasional verses." — Ed.
7
98 EE COLLECTIONS OF THE
frieucls of his who^were sitting in a room near his
bed-chamber, and ^Yaitmg to hear that he had
breathed his last ; — she wahced through the room
with her apron thrown over her head.
Trotter's Memoirs of Fox, though incorrect in
some particulars, is a very pleasing book. Trotter
died in Ireland : he was reduced to great straits ;
and Mrs. Fox sent him, at different times, as much
as several hundred pounds, though she could ill spare
the money.
How fondly the surviving friends of Fox che-
rished his memory ! Many years after his death, I
w'as at a fete given by the Duke of Devonshire at
Chiswick House. Sir Eobert Adair and I wandered
about the apartments, up and down stairs. "In
which room did Fox expire?" asked Adair. I re-
plied, "In this very room." Immediately Adair
burst into tears with a vehemence of grief such as
I hardly ever saw exhibited by a man.
Fox's History of the Early Part of the Beign of
James the Second has been greatly undervalued ; but
it will be properly estimated in future times. It
contains charming passages. Here are two : when
I read them, I seem to listen to Fox conversing: —
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGEES. 99
"From the execution of the king to the death of
Cromwell, the government was, with some variation
of forms, in substance monarchial and absolute, as
a government established by a military force will
almost invariably be, especially when the exertions
of such a force are continued for any length of time.
If to this general rule our own age, and a people
whom their origin and near relation to us w^ould al-
most warrant us to call our own nation, have afforded
a splendid and perhaps a solitary exception, we must
reflect not only, that a character of virtues so happily
tempered by one another, and so wholly unalloyed
with any vices, as that of Washington, is hardly to
be found in the pages of history, but that even
Washington himself might not have been able to
act his most glorious of all parts, without the exist-
ence of circumstances uncommonly favourable, and
almost peculiar to the country which was to be
the theatre of it. Virtue like his depends not in-
deed upon time or place ; but although in no
country or time would he have degraded himself
into a Pisistratus, or a Caesar, or a Cromwell, he
might have shared the fate of a Cato or a De Witt ;
or, like Ludlow and Sydney, have mourned in
100 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
exile the lost liberties of his country."" — The other
passage is this : —
"But to Temple's sincerity his subsequent con-
duct gives abundant testimony. When he had reason
to think that his services could no longer be useful
to his country, he withdrew wholly from public busi-
ness, and resolutely adhered to the preference of
philosophical retirement, which, in his circumstances,
was just, in spite of every temptation which occurred
to bring him back to the more active scene. The
remainder of his life he seems to have employed in
the most noble contemplations and the most elegant
amusements ; every enjoyment heightened, no doubt,
by reflecting on the honourable part he had acted in
public affairs, and without any regret on his own ac-
count (whatever he might feel for his country) at
having been driven from them."f
Burke said to Mrs. Crewe :| "A dull proser is
more endurable than a dull joker."
He also said to her: "England is a moon shone
* P. 17,— Ed. t P. 20.— Ed.
X Afterwards Lady Crewe. — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGEES. 101
upon by France. France has all things within
herself; and she possesses the power of recovering
from the severest blows. England is an artificial
country : take away her commerce, and w^hat has
she?"
One day Foote was taken in to White's by a
friend who w^anted to write a note. Foote, standing
in a room among strangers, appeared to feel not
quite at ease. Lord Carmarthen, wishing to relieve
his embarrassment, came up to speak to him ; but,
himself feeling rather shy, he merely said, "Mr.
Foote, your handkerchief is hanging out of your
pocket." Upon which, Foote, looking suspiciously
round, and hurriedly thrusting the handkerchief back
into his pocket, replied, "Thank you, my lord; you
know the company better than I do."
Fox told me that Lord William Bentinck once
invited Foote to meet him and some others at dinner
in St. James's Street ; and that they were rather
angry at Lord William for having done so, expecting
that Foote would prove only a bore, and a check on
their conversation. "But," said Fox, "we soon
found that we were mistaken : whatever we talked
102 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
about, — whether fox-hunting, the turf, or any other
subject, — Foote instantly took the lead, and delighted
us all."
Murphy, who used to dwell with enthusiasm on
his recollections of Chatham's oratory, was once in
the gallery of the House with Foote, when Pitt
(Lord Chatham) w^as putting forth all his power in an
attack on Murray (Lord Mansfield) . ' ' Shall we go
home now?" said Murphy. — "No," replied Foote;
" Let us w^ait till he has made the little man (Mur-
ray) vanish entirely."
There was no end to Foote's jokes about Garrick's
parsimony. " Garrick," said Foote, " lately invited
Hurd to dine with him in the Adelphi ; and after
dinner, the evening being very warm, they walked
up and down in front of the house. As they passed
and repassed the dining-room windows, Garrick was
in a perfect agony ; for he saw that there was a thief
in one of the candles which were burning on the
table ; and yet Hurd was a person of such conse-
quence that he could not run away from him to pre-
vent the waste of his tallow."
At the Chapter Coffee-house, Foote and his
friends were making a contribution for the relief of
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 103
a poor fellow (a decayed player, I believe), who was
nick-named the Captain of the Four Winds, because
his hat was worn into four spouts. Each person of
the company dropped his mite into the hat, as it was
held out to him. "If Garrick hears of this," said
Foote, "he will certainly send us his hat."
The then Duke of Cumberland (the fooUsJr'
Duke, as he was called), came one night into Foote's
green-room at the Haymarket Theatre. "Well,
Foote," said he, " Here I am, ready, as usual, to
swallow all your good things." — " Upon my soul,"
replied Foote, "Your Eoyal Highness must have an
excellent digestion, for you never bring any up
again."
During my youth I used to go to the Hampstead
Assemblies, which were frequented by a great deal
of good company. There I have danced four or five
minuets in one evening.
Beau Nash was once dancing a minuet at Bath
with a Miss Lunu. She was so long of giving him
both her hands (the figure by which the lady, when
* For a vindication of his Eoyal Highness from this epithet,
see Boaden's Life of KemMe, ii. 17. — Ed.
]04 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
she thinks proper, brings the performance to a close),
that he lost all patience, and, suiting the words to
the tune (which was Marshal Saxe's minuet), he sung
out as she passed him, —
" Miss Luun, Miss Lunn,
Will vou never have done ? " *
I always distrust the accounts of eminent men
by their contemporaries. None of us has any reason
to slander Homer or Julius Caesar ; but we find it
very difficult to divest ourselves of prejudices when
we are writing about persons with whom we have
been acquainted.
Lord St. Helens (who had been ambassador
to Russia) told me as a fact, this anecdote of
the Empress Catherine. She frequently had little
whist-parties, at which she sometimes played, and
sometimes not. One night, when she was not play-
* On the charge hrought against me in Tlie Athencsum, that
I have not accurately reported this trifling anecdote, see Addenda.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 105
ing, but walking about from table to table, and
watching the different hands, she rang the bell to
summon the page-in-waiting from an ante-chamber.
No page appeared. She rang the bell again ; and
again without effect. Upon this, she left the room,
lookmg daggers, and did not return for a very consi-
derable time ; the company supposing that the unfor-
tunate page was destined to the knout or Siberia.
On entering the ante-chamber, the Empress found
that the page, like his betters, was busy at whist,
and that, when she had rung the bell, he happened
to have so very interesting a hand that he could not
make up his mind to quit it. Now, what did the
Empress do ? she despatched the page on her errand,
and then quietly sat down to hold his cards till he
should return.
Lord St. Helens also told me that he and Segur
were with the Empress in her carriage, when the
horses took fright, and ran furiously down hill. The
danger was excessive. When it was over, the Em-
press said, " Mon etoile vous a sauvee."
Hare's wit, once so famous, owed perhaps not a
little to his manner of uttering it. Here is a speci-
lOG RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
men. Fox was sitting at Brookes's, in a very moody
humour, having lost a considerable sum at cards,
and was indolently moving a pen backwards and
forwards over a sheet of paper. " What is he draw-
ing?" said some one to Hare. "Any thing but a
draft," was the reply.
General Fitzpatrick was at one time nearly as
famous for his wit as Hare. During the latter part
of his long life he had withdrawn a good deal from
society. I took farewell of him the day but one
before he died. On the day immediately preceding
his death, I walked to his house in Arlington Street
to inquire for him ; and, just as I reached the door,
Mrs. Fox was coming from it, sobbing violently.
Jekyll, too, was celebrated for his wit ; but it
was of that kind which amuses only for the moment.
I remember that when Lady Cork gave a party at
which she wore a most enormous plume, Jekyll said,
" She was exactly a shuttle-cock, — all cork and
feathers."
While Rousseau was lodging in Chiswick Ter-
race, Fitzpatrick called upon him one day, and had
Table-talk of samuel eogers. lo:
not been long in the room when David Hume en-
tered. Eousseau had lost a favourite dog; and
Hume, having exerted himself to recover it, now
brought it back to its master, who thanked him
with expressions of the most fervent gratitude, and
shed tears of joy over the animal.
Fitzpatrick, who had been much in the company
of David Hume, used always to speak of him as " a
delicious creature."
Hume told Cadell the bookseller that he had a
great desire to be introduced to as many of the per-
sons who had written against him as could be col-
lected ; and requested Cadell to bring him and them
together. Accordingly, Dr. Douglas, Dr. Adams,
&c. &c., were invited by Cadell to dine at his house
in order to meet Hume. They came ; and Dr. Price,
who was of the party, assured me that they were all
delighted with David.
I knew Murphy long and intimately : I was in-
troduced to him by the Piozzis at Streatham.
108 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
On the first night of any of his plays, if the
shghtest symptoms of disapprobation were shown by
the audience, Murphy always left the house, and took
a walk in Covent-Garden Market : then, after having
composed himself, he would return to the theatre.
Garrick once, in conversation with Murphy, hav-
ing insisted that it was much more difficult to write a
play whose strength lay in the plot than one which
depended on the dialogue for its pffect. Murphy
went to his favourite haunt, the Talbot at Richmond,
and wrote, nearly at a single sitting, a comedy of the
former description (I forget its name), which, very
soon after he presented to Garrick.
The days had been when Murphy lived in the
best society, and used to walk about arm-in-arm with
Lord Loughborough : but I have seen them meet in
the street, and salute each other very formally.
Towards the close of his life, till he received a
pension of 200Z. per annmn from the king,* Murphy
was in great pecuniary difficulties. He had eaten
himself out of every tavern from the other side of
Temple-Bar to the west end of the town. I have still
* The pension was granted to him in 1803 : he died in 1805. —
Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGERS. 109
in my possession several bills of his for money to a
considerable amount which he never repaid me. — He
had borrowed from me two hundred pounds ; and a
long time having elapsed without his taking any
notice of the debt, I became rather uneasy (for two
hundred pounds was then no trifling sum to me). At
last, meeting him in Fleet Street, I asked him when
he should be able to settle with me. " Are you going
home?" said he. "Yes," I replied; and we walked
to my chambers in the Temple. There, instead of
making any arrangements for repaying me, he ex-
erted all his eloquence, but in vain, to induce me to
lend him more money ; and I thanked heaven when
I got rid of him. — He assigned over to me the whole
of his works, including his Tacitus ; and I soon found
that he had already disposed of them to a bookseller !
For this transaction Murphy came, in extreme agita-
tion, to offer me a sort of apology, almost throwing
himself on his knees. When he made his appear-
ance. Person and Maltby* happened to be in the
room;! but, Porson having said aside to Maltby, "We
* See notice prefixed to the Porsoniana in this \o\ume.—ET>.
t Mr. Eogers was then lodging in Prince's Street, Hanover
Square ; from which he removed to St. James's Place.— Ed.
110 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
had better withdraw," they left me to my disagree-
able conference w^ith Murphy,
One thing ought to be remembered to Murphy's
honour : an actress,* wdth w^hom he had lived, be-
queathed to him all her property, but he gave uja
every farthing of it to her relations.
Murphy used to say that there were Four Estates
in England, the King, the Lords, the Commons, and
— tlie Tlieatres. He certainly would not say so, if he
were alive now, when the national theatre is almost
extinct.
Henderson was a truly great actor ; his Hamlet
and his Falstaff were equally good. He was a very
fine reader too : in his comic readings superior, of
course, to Mrs. Siddons ; his John Gilinn was mar-
vellous.
He would frequently produce very unexpected
" effects " in his readings : for instance, in the passage
of Collins's Ode to Fear, —
" Or throws him on the ridgy steep
Of some lojse-hanging rock to sleep ; " —
* Miss Elliot.— En.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGEKS. Ill
he would suddenly pause after the words " loose-
hanging rock," and then, starting back as if in amaze-
ment, and lifting his arms above his head, he would
slowly add — " to sleep ! "*
During his boyhood, Pitt was very weakly ; and
his physician, Addiugton (Lord Sidmouth's father)
ordered him to take port wine in large quantities :
the consequence was, that, when he grew up, he
could not do without it. Lord Grenville has seen
him swallow a bottle of port in tumblerfuls, before
going to the House. This, together with his habit
of eating late suppers (indigestible cold veal-pies,
&c.), helped undoubtedly to shorten his life. Hus-
kisson, speaking to me of Pitt, said that his hands
shook so much, that, when he helped himself to salt,
he was obliged to support the right hand with the
left.
Stothard the painter happened to be one evening
at an inn on the Kent Eoad, when Pitt and Dundas
put up there on their way from Walmer. Next
* I must he allowed to observe, that I do not agree with Mr.
Rogers in admiring the effect in question. It was certainly not in-
tended by the poet. — Ed.
112 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
morning, as they were stepping into their carriage,
the waiter said to Stotharcl, " Sir, do you observe
these two gentlemen?" — "Yes," he repHed ; "and
I know them to be Mr. Pitt and Mr. Dundas." —
" Well, sir, how much wine do you suppose they
drank last night ? " — Stothard could not guess. —
" Seven bottles, sir."
Lord Grenville once said to Pitt, " I am really
astonished at your fluency in public speaking : how
was it acquired? " He replied, " I believe it may be
attributed to this circumstance : when I was a lad,
my father used every evening to make me translate
freely, before him and the rest of the family, those
portions of Livy, Virgil, &c., which I had read in
the morning with my tutor, Mr. Wilson." — Lord
Grenville engaged a reporter to take down Pitt's
speeches ; but the reporter completely failed.
Pitt had been accustomed when a boy to go a-
bird-nesting at Holwood, and hence (according to
Lord Grenville) his wish to possess that place ; which
he eventually did.
I was assured by Lord Grenville that Pitt came
into office with a fixed determination to improve the
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. lU
finances of the kingdom ; instead of which he greatly
injured them,
I don't remember having heard of any hon-mots
being uttered by Pitt in society; and those persons
who were very intimate with him could tell me little
in favour of his conversational powers : one great
lady who knew him well, said that he was generally
quite silent in company ; and a second could give me
no other information about him, but that (being a
tall man) " he sat very high at table ! "
There was a run on the Bank, and Pitt was un-
certain what measures to take m consequence of it.
He passed the whole night (as Mrs. told me)
in walking up and down his drawing-room. Next
morning he sent for certain bankers, and informed
them that he had resolved on issuing five-pound
notes. — I recollect a farmer coming to my father's
bank and receiving his money in five-pound notes.'''
" What can I do with these?" he exclaimed ; " how
can I pay my men with them ? "
* Very shortly before this (as my friend, Mr. Samuel Sharpe,
informs me) five-pound notes had been issued : smaller notes
were not issued till some time afterwards. — Ed.
IH KECOLLECTIONS OF THE
Wilberforce requested Pitt to read Butler's Ana-
logy /■'' Pitt did so ; and was by no means satisfied
with the reasoning in it. " My dear Wilberforce,"
he said, " you may prove any thiiuj by analogy."
Combe, author of TJic Diaholiad, of Lord Lyttel-
tons Letters, and more recently, of Dr. Syntax's
Three Tours, \ was a most extraordinary person.
During a very long life, he had seen much of the
world, — its ups and downs. He was certamly well-
connected. Fitzpatrick recollected him at Douay
College.:]: He moved once in the highest society, and
* One evening, at a party, when Butler's Analogy was men-
tioned, Parr said in his usual pompous manner, ' I shall not de-
clare, before the present company, my opinion of that book.'
Bowles, who was just then leaving the room, muttered, 'Nobody
cares what you think of it.' Parr, overhearing him, roared out,
'What's that you say, Bowles 1 ' and added, as the door shut on
the offender, ' It's lucky that Bowles has gone ! for I should have
put him to death.' " Mr. Maltby (see notice prefixed to the
Porsoniana in this volume). — Ed,
f And of an astonishing number of other works. — all pub-
lished anonymously. — Ed,
X According to The GcnUcmaii's Ilarjazine for August, 1823,
p. 185 (where his name is wrongly spelled Coomh(i), " he was edu-
cated at Eton and Oxford:" which is not inconsistent with his
having been at Douay also. But there seems to be great un-
certainty about the particulars of his life. — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 115
was very intimate with the Duke of Bedford. Twenty
thousand pounds were unexpectedly bequeathed to
him by an old gentleman, who said " he ought to
have been Combe's father " (that is, he had been on
the point of marrying Combe's mother), and who
therefore left him that large sum. Combe contrived
to get rid of the money in an incredibly short time.
Combe was staying at the house of Uvedale
Price ;* and the Honourable Mr. St. John (author
of Mary Queen of Scots]) w^as there also. The lat-
ter, one morning, missed some bank-notes. Price,
strongly suspecting who had taken them, mentioned
the circumstance to Combe, and added, " Perhaps it
would be as well if you cut short your visit here." —
"Oh, certamly," replied Combe with the greatest
coolness; " and allow me just to ask, whether hence-
forth WQ are to be friends or acquaintances?" —
"Acquaintances, if you please," said Price. ;!■ — Long
* Afterwards a baronet. — Ed.
t A very dull tragedy, in which Mrs. Siddons continued to
act the heroine occasionally up to the time of her retirement from
the stage. I recollect her performing Mary at Edinburgh during
my boyhood.— Ed.
J From the tone of some letters written by Combe in his old
age, one Avould certainly not suppose that he had on his conscience
any thing of the kind above alluded to. " The only solid happi-
116 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
after this had happened, I was passing through Lei-
cester Square with Price, when we met Combe : we
both spoke to him; but from that hour he always
avoided me.
Combe assured me that it was with him, not with
Sterne, that " Ehza "'■' was in love; that he used to
meet her often beside a windmill near Brighton ;
that he was once surprised in her bed-chamber, and
fled through the window, leaving one of his shoes
behind him ; that, some days after, he encountered
her as she was walking with a party on what is now
the Steyne (at Brighton), and that, as she passed
him, she displayed from her muff the toe of his shoe !
Combe died in the King's Bench, f where it was
ness in this life," he says, "is the performance of duty ; the rest,
when compared with it, is not worth a regret or a rememhrance. .
. . A thousand hours of pleasurable gratification will weigh
but as dust in the balance against one hour of solid virtue
Few men have enjoyed more of the pleasures and brilliance of life
than myself; and you, I well know, will believe me, when I assure
you that, in looking back upon it, the brightest intervals of it are
those wherein I resisted iuclination, checked impetuosity, over-
came temptation, frowned folly out of countenance, or shed a
tear over the unfortunate." Letters to Marianne, p. 7. — Ed.
* A list of Combe's writings, drawn up by himself, and printed
in Tlie Gentlemans 3Iagazlne for May, 1852, p. 467, includes
" Letters supposed to have passed between Sterne and Eliza, 2
vols."— Ed.
t He died, June'19th, 1823, at his apartments in Lambeth Eoad,
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS, 117
said that he had taken refuge in order to cheat his
creditors, — erroneously, for he did not leave enough
to pay the expenses of his funeral.
Gibbon took very little exercise. He had been
staying some time with Lord Sheffield in the coun-
try ; and when he was about to go away, the servants
could not find his hat. "Bless me," said Gibbon,
" I certainly left it in the hall on my arrival here."
He had not stirred out of doors during the whole of
the visit.
These lines by Bishop (Head-master of Merchant-
Tailors' School) are very good in their way : —
" To Mrs. Bishojy, iv'dh a Present of a Knife.
'A knife,' dear girl, ' cuts love,' they say !
Mere modish love perhaps it may ;
For any tool, of any kind,
Can separate — what was never join'd.
The knife that cuts our love in two
Will have much tougher work to do ;
in his 82d year. See The Gentleman's Magazine for August 1823,
p. 185.— Ed.
118 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
Must cut your softness, truth, and spirit,
Down to the vulgar size of merit ;
To level yours with modern taste,
]Must cut a world of sense to waste ;
And from your single beauty's store
Clip what would dizeu out a score.
That self-same blade from me must sever
Sensation, judgment, sight, for ever;
All memory of endearments past,
All hope of comforts long to last ;
All that makes fourteen years with you
A summer, — and a short one too;
All that affection feels and fears,
AVhen hours without you seem like years.
Till that be done (and I'd as soon
Believe this knife will chip the moon),
Accept my present, undeterr'd,
And leave their proverbs to the herd.
If in a kiss— delicious treat! —
Your lips acknowledge the receipt,
Love, fond of such substantial fare,
And proud to play the glutton there,
All thoughts of cutting will disdain.
Save only — ' cut and come again.' "
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 119
I never saw Paley ; but my brother knew him
■well, and liked him much. Paley used to say, in his
broad dialect, "I am an advocate for corrooption"
(that is, parliamentary influence).*
Witticisms are often attributed to the wrong
people. It was Lord Chesterfield, not Sheridan, who
said, on occasion of a certain marriage, that " No-
body's son had married Everybody's daughter."
* Among several anecdotes of Paley, communicated to me long
ago by a gentleman who resided in the neighbourhood, were these.
— When Paley rose in the church, he set up a carriage, and, by his
wife's directions, his arms were painted on the panels. They were
copied from the engraving on a silver cup, which Mrs. P. supposed
to be the bearings of his family. Paley thought it a pity to unde-
ceive his wife ; but the truth was, he had purchased the cup at a
sale.
He permitted, — nay, wished, — his daughters to go to evening
parties ; but insisted that one of them should always remain at
home, to give her assistance, if needed, by rubbing him, &c., in case
of an attack of the rheumatic pains to which he was subject.
" This," he said, " taught them natural affection."
His fourth son chose to be a fai-mer, and was sent by his
father to Redburn, where, in order to train him to his business, he
was frequently employed in works of manual labovu'. A friend,
having seen the young man so occupied, expressed his surprise at
the cii'cumstance to Paley, who replied, " Practice, practice is
everything."
Of the card-playing Curate of G. and his wife, he used to say
that " they made much more by whist than by the curacy." — Ed.
i:0 KECCLLECTIONS OF THE
Lord Chesterfield remarked of two persons danc-
ing a minuet, that " they looked as if they were hired
to do it, and w^ere doubtful of being paid."
I once observed to a Scotch lady, " how desirable
it was in any danger to have ]3rescnce of 7nind."
"I had rather," she rejoined, " Jiave absence of
body."
The mediant Lord Lyttleton used to play all sorts
of tricks in his boyhood. For instance, when he
knew that the larder at Hagley happened to be ill-
supplied, he would invite, in his father's name, a
large party to dinner ; and, as the carriages drove up
the avenue, the old lord (concealing his vexation as
much as possible) w^ould stand bowing in the hall, to
welcome his unwelcome guests.
There is at Hagley a written account of the
mccliant Lord Lyttelton's death, which was read to
me while on a visit there. The statement, as far
as I recollect, runs thus. — One night, when he was
in bed, a white bird, with a voice like a woman's, —
or else, a female figure with a bird on her hand, —
appeared to him, and told him that he must die
at a particular hour on a particular night. He re-
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 121
lated the circumstance to some of his friends, who
■encom-aged him in treating it as a dehision. The
fatal night arrived. He was then at a house (Pitt
Place) near Epsom ; and had appointed to meet a
party on the downs nest morning. His friends, with-
out his knowledge, had put back the clock. " I shall
cheat the ghost yet," he said. On getting into bed,
he sent his servant down stairs for a spoon, having
to take some medicine. When the servant returned,
Xiord Lyttelton was a corpse.*
* lu the " Corrections and Additions," p. 36, to Xash's History
of Worcestershire, is an account of Lord Lytteltou's vision and
death, more detailed than the above, but not materiall)'^ different.
—Ed.
Of Lord Lyttelton's ghost appearing to Miles Peter Andrews
(an anecdote quite as notorious as that above) the following account
was given by Andrews himself to his most intimate friend, Mr.
Morton the dramatist, by whom it was told to me. " I was at Rich-
mond: and I had not been long in bed, when I saw Lord Lyttelton
standing at the foot of it. I felt no surprise, because he was in the
habit of comiDg to me at all hours without previous announcement.
i spoke to him; but he did not answer. Supposing that he intended,
as usual, to play me some trick, I stooped out of bed, and taking up
one of my slippers, I threw it at him. He vanished. Next morning,
I inquired of the people of the house when Lord Lyttelton had
■arrived, and where he was? They declared that he' had not arrived.
He died at the very moment I saw him." A version of this ghost-
■story, too, is given by Nash (xihi siijpra), who states that Andrews
122 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
Frequently, when doubtful how to act in matters
of importance, I have received more useful advice
from women than from men. Women have the un-
derstanding of the heart ; which is better than that of
the head.
As I was walking home one day from my father's
bank, I observed a great crowd of people streaming
into a chapel in the City Eoad. I followed them ;
and saw laid out, upon a table, the dead body of a
clergyman in full canonicals. It was the corpse of
John Wesley ; and the crowd moved slowly and
silently round and round the table, to take a last
look at that most venerable man.""
addressed the gliost, and that " the ghost, shaking his head, said,
' It is all over with me.' " But Mr. Morton assured me that he re-
lated the story exactly as he had had it from Andrews^ whose convic-
tion that he had seen a real spectre was i^i-oof against all arguments.
—Ed.
* Since the above was written a letter has appeared in The
Gentleman'' s Magazine for February, 185G, where (p. 148) the writer
states that Mr. Eogers, rcry late in life, mentioned to him this
anecdote, with the important variation— that the body of Wesley
was lying in the drawing-room of a ho7isc to the left of the chaiJel.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGEKS. 123
Dr. Priestley went to Paris in company with Lord
Shelburne ;* and he assured me that all the eminent
Frenchmen whom he met there, were entirely des-
titute of any religious belief, — sheer atheists. At
a large dinner-party he asked his next neighbour,
"Who is that gentleman?" The answer was, "It
is ; and he believes no more than you and I do.'
— Marmontel used to read some of his unpublished
works to parties of his friends, on certain days, at
his own house. Priestley, who attended a few of
those readings, declared that Marmontel occasionally
gesticulated with such violence, that it was necessary
But, towards the close of his career, Mr. Eogcrs's memory was not
to be trusted to for minute particulars. " At the desire of many
friends, his body was carried into the chapel the day preceding
the interment, and there lay in a kind of state becoming the per-
son, dressed in his clerical habit, with gown, cassock, and band ;
the old clerical cap on his head, a Bible in one hand, and a white
handkerchief in the other. The face was placid, and the exjires-
sion which death had fixed upon his venerable featvires was that
of a serene and heavenly smile. The crowds who flocked to see
him were so great, that it was thought prudent, for fear of acci-
dents, to accelerate the funeral, and perform it between five and
six in the morning, «&c. Southey's Life of Wesley, ii., 562, ed.
1820. Wesley died 2d March 1791.— Ed,
* Afterwards Marquis of Lansdowne,— to whom, nominally,
Priestley acted as Librarian, but really as his literary companion.
It was in 1774 that they made a tour to the continent.— Ed.
124 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
to keep out of the reach of his arms for fear of being
knocked down.
I was intimately acquainted with Dr. Priestley ;
and a more amiable man never lived ; he was all
gentleness, kindness, and humility. He was once
dining wdth me, when some one asked him (rather
rudely) "how many books he had published?" He
replied, " Many more, sir, than I should like to
read." Before going to America, he paid me a
visit, passing a night at my house. He left Eng-
land chiefly in compliance wdth the washes of his
wife.
When Home Tooke was at school, the boys asked
him "what his father w^as?" Tooke answered, "A
Turkey merchant." (He was a poulterer.)
He once said to his brother,* a pompous man,
■" You and I have reversed the natural course of
* In repeating this anecdote, Mr. Rogers sometimes substituted
" cousin " for '■^'brother.'''' — Tooke bad two brothers. 1. Benjamin
Tooke, wlio settledat Brentford as a market-gardener, in which line
he became eminent, and acquired considerable wealth. 2. Thomas
Tooke, who was originally a fislimonger,and afterwards a poulterer,
— a man, it is said, of strong intellect, but certainly careless and
■extravagant ; and who ended his career in one of the almshouses
belonging to the Fishmongers' Company. — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 125-
things : you have risen by your gravity ; I have sunk
by my levity.
To Judge Ashhurst's remark, that the law was
open to all, both to the rich and to the poor, Tooke
replied, " So is the London Tavern."
He said that Hume wrote his History as witches
say their prayers — backwards.
Tooke told me that in his early days a friend
gave him a letter of introduction to D'Alembert at
Paris. Dressed d-la-mode, he presented the letter,
and was very courteously received by D'Alembert,
who talked to him about operas, comedies, and sup-
pers, &c. Tooke had expected conversation on very
different topics, and was greatly disappointed. When
he took leave, he was followed by a gentleman in a
plain suit, who had been in the room during his
interview with D'Alembert, and who had perceived
his chagrin. "D'Alembert," said the gentleman,
" supposed from your gay apparel that you were
merely a jJC/J/i maitre." The gentleman was David
Hume. On his next visit to D'Alembert, Tooke's
dress was altogether different ; and so was the con-
versation.-''
* Tooke spent considerably more than a year at Paris, wliile
126 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
Tooke went to Italy as tutor to a young man of
fortune,* who was subject to fits of insanity, and
who consequently would sometimes occasion much
alarm at inns during the middle of the night. — While
residing at Genoa, they formed an acquaintance wuth
an Italian family of distinction, by whom they were
introduced to the best society of the place. Tooke
attached himself to a lady of great beauty, becoming
her cavalier seruentc, and attending her everywhere.
After some weeks, at a large evening-party, he was
astonished to find that the lady would not speak to
him, and that the rest of the company avoided con-
versation with him. "Now," said Tooke, " what do
you imagine was the cause of this ? Why, they had
discovered tJiat I was a Protestant Clergyman ! But
I was resolved not to be brow-beaten ; and I made
myself so agreeable, that, before the party broke up
we w"ere all again on the very best terms; some of
acting as travelling-tutor to young Elwes (son of the miser; and he
afterwards paid two short visits to that capital in company with
young Taylor (see next note). It was, I apprehend, on the first of
these occasions that liis introduction to D'Alembert took place. He
was in full orders before he ever went to the Continent ; but he
always laid aside the clerical dress at Dover. — Ed.
* The son of a Mr. Taylor, who resided within a few miles of
Brentford.— Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 127
them even waited on me home, with music, in a sort
of triumph ! "'■'
Soon after Tooke had left Genoa, he heard that
another traveller, who was following the same route,
had been assassinated. This unfortunate traveller
was mistaken for Tooke, on whom, in consequence
of his intrigue with the lady at Genoa, the blow had
been intended to fall.
I have been present when one of Tooke' s daugh-
ters was readmg Greekf to him with great facility.
He had made her learn that language without using
a grammar, — only a dictionary.
I paid five guineas (in conjunction with Bod-
dington) for a lotje at Tooke's trial. — It was the
custom in those days (and perhaps is so still) to
place bunches of strong-smelling plants of different
sorts at the bar where the crimmal was to sit (I sup-
pose, to purify the air from the contagion of his
]presence !). This was done at Tooke's trial ; but, as
soon as he was brought in, he indignantly swept them
* One of those letters, in which Wilkes publicl}'^ addressed
Home Tooke, has the following passage; "Will you call an Italian
gentleman now in town, your confident during your whole residence
at Genoa, to testify the morality of your conduct iu Italy ! "
f Latin, I suspect. — Ed.
128 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
away with his handkerchief. The trial lasted six.
days. Erskine (than whom nobody had ever more
power over a jury, — he would frequently address
them as " his little twelvers") defended Tooke most
admirably : nay, he showed himself not only a great-
orator, but a great actor ; for, on the fifth day, when
the Attorney-General, Eldon, was addressing the
jury, and was using a line of argument which Erskine
had not expected and could not reply to (the j)lead-
ing for the prisoner being closed), I well remember
how Erskine the wdiole time kept turning towards
the jury, and by a series of significant looks, shrugs, ,
and shakings of his head, did all he could to destroy
the effect of what the Attorney-General w^as saying.
— After a very long speech, Eldon, with the perspi-
ration streaming down his face, came into the room
W'here the Lord Mayor w^as sitting, and exclaimed,
" Mr. Tooke says that he should like to send Mr.
Pitt to Botany Bay ; but it would be more merciful
to make him Attorney-General." — When Eldon was
told that the mob had talxcn mvay the horses from
Erskine's carriage, and drawn him home in triumph
to Sergeants' Inn, he asked "If they had ever re-
turned them ?"
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 12&
At the conclusion of the trial, a daughter of one of
the jurymen was anxious to be introduced to Tooke ;
who, shaking her by the hand, said very prettily,
"I must call you sister, for you are the daughter
of one of those to whom I owe my life." — If Tooke
had been convicted, there is no doubt that he would
have been hanged. We lived then under a reign of
terror.
One night, after dining with him at Cline's (the
surgeon), I accompanied Tooke to Brandenburgh
House (the Margravine of Anspach's) to see a pri-
vate play. During the performance, a person be-
hind us said, " There's that rascal. Home Tooke."
The words were uttered quite distinctly ; and Tooke
was so offended, that he immediately withdrew. I
went home with him to his house on the Common,
and slept there, after sitting up very late to listen to
his delightful talk.
I often dined with Tooke at Wimbledon ; and
always found him most pleasant and most witty.
There his friends would drop in upon him without
any invitation : Colonel Bosville would come fre-
quently, bringing with him a dinner from London
— fish, &c. — Tooke latterly used to expect two or
9
130 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
three of his most inthnate friends to dine with him
every Sunday ; and I once offended him a good deal
by not joining his Sunday dinner-parties for several
weeks.
Burdett was, of course, a great deal with Tooke.
In little things, Burdett was a very inconsiderate
person. One forenoon, when Tooke was extremely
unwell, and a friend had sent him some fine hot-
house grapes, Burdett, happening to call in, ate up
every one of them.
Tooke was such a passionate admirer of Milton's
prose works, that, as he assured me, he had tran-
scribed them all in his youth.
For my own part, I like Harris's writings much.
But Tooke thought meanly of them : he would say,
" Lord Malmesbm-y is as great a fool as his father."
He used to observe, that "though the books
which you have lately read may make no strong im-
pression on you, they nevertheless improve your
mind ; just as food, though we forget what it was
after we have eaten it, gives strength to the body."
0, the fallibility of medical people ! Both Pear-
son and Cline, on one occasion, informed Tooke that
he could not possibly survive beyond a single day :
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 131
and — he lived years !' — Let me mention here what
was told to me by a lady at Clifton. " In my girl-
hood," she said, " I had a very severe illness, dming
which I heard Dr. Turton declare to my mother, in
* In a note on Boswell's Life of Juknsoii (p. 5(32. ed. lSi8),
relative to Lord Mayor Beckford's famous speech (or rather, re-
joinder) to the king in 1770, Mr. Croker observes: "Mr. Bosville's
manuscript note on this passage says, 'that the monument records,
not the words of Beckford, but what was prepared for him by John
Home Tooke, as agreed on at a dinner at Mr. George Bellas's in
Doctors' Commons.' This, I tliinlc, is also stated in a manuscript
note in the Museum copy; but Mr. Gifford says, 'he never uttered
one syllable of the speech.' (^Bcn Jouf:on, i. 481.) Perhaps he said
something which was afterwards put into its present shape by Home
Tooke." — In Stephens's Mcmob-x of Home Tooke (vol. i. 155-7)
we have the following account. " This answer [of the king] had
been, of course, anticipated, and Mr. Home, who was determined
to give celebrity to the mayoralty of his friend, Mr. Beckford, at
the same time that he supported tbe common cause, had suggested
tlie idea of a reply to the sovereign; a measure hitherto unexampled
in our history." Stevens then proceeds to say that the Lord Mayor
" expressed himself nearly as follows," &c. ; and presently adds,
" This, as Mr. Home lately acknowledged to me, was /<w composi-
tion." — I now quote the words of Mr. Maltby (see notice prefixed
to the Porsoniana in this volume.) " I was dining at Guildhall in
1790, and sitting next to Dr. C. Burney, when he assured me that
Beckford did not utter one syllable of the speech, — that it was
wholly the invention of Home Tooke. Being YQi-y intimate with
Tooke, I lost no time in questioning him on the subject. ' What
Burney states,' he said 'is true. I saw Beckford just after he came
from St. James's. I asked him what he had said to the king; and
he replied, that he had been so confused, he scarcely knew what he
had said. 'But,' cried I, 'ijour s_pcccli must be sent to the papers ;
132 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE
the next room, that I conld not live. I immediately
called out, 'But I will live, Dr. Turton ! ' aud here
I am, now sixty years old."
Hoole, the son of the translator of Ariosto, wrote
a poem entitled The Curate,'^ which is by no means
bad. I knew him when he was a private tutor.
What strange meetings sometimes occur! Eich-
ard Sharp, when a young man, was making a tour
in Scotland with a friend. They arrived one night
at Glencoe, and could get no lodgings at the inn ;
but they were told by the landlord that there lived
111 write it for you.' I did so immediately, and it was printed
forthwith."
These various statements enable us to arrive at the exact truth ;
viz. that Tooke suggested to Beckford (if he did not write them
down) the heads of a rejoinder to the king's reply, — that Beckford,
losing his presence of mind, made little or no use of them, — and
that the famous speech (or rejoinder) which is engraved on the
pedestal of Beckford's statue in Guildhall, was the elaborate com-
position of Home Tooke. — Ed.
* Edrvard, or the Cvrate; hy the Rev. Savivel Iloole^ 1787, 4 to.
His Poems were collected in two vols., 1790. He died (Eector of
Poplar), February 26th, 1839 ; see The Gentleman's Magazine for
April,1839, p. 440.— Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 133
in the neighbourhood a "laird" who was always
ready to show kindness to strangers, and who would
doubtless receive them into his house. Thither they
went, and were treated with the greatest hospitality.
In the course of conversation, the " laird " mentioned
Newfoundland as a place familiar to him. " Have
you been there?" asked Sharp. "Yes," he replied,
" I spent some time there, w^hen I was in the army ; "
and he went on to say that, while there, he enjoyed
the society of the dearest friend he had ever had, a
gentleman named Sharp. " Sir, I am the son of that
very gentleman." The "laird" threw his arms round
.Sharp's neck, and embraced him with a flood of
tears.
Sharp's little volume of Letters and Essays is
hardly equal to his reputation. He had given great
attention to metaphysics, and intended to publish a
work on that subject, the result of much thought and
reading. One day, as w'e were walking together near
Ulswater, I put some metaphysical question to him,
wiien he stopped me short at once by saying, "There
are only two men''' in England with whom I ever
talk on metaphysics." This was not very flattering
* Meaning, I believe, Mackintosh and Bobus Smitli. — Ed.
134 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
to me ; and it so offended my sister, that she said I
ought immediately to have ordered a postchaise, and
left him there.
I have always understood that the oration of
Pericles in Smith's Thncydides was translated by
Lord Chatham.
Vernon was the person who invented the story
about the lady being pulverised in India by a coiqf
(Ic soldi : — when he was dining there with a Hindoo,
one of his host's wives was suddenly reduced to
ashes ; upon which, the Hindoo ramj the bell, and
said to the attendant who answ^ered it, " Bring fresh
glasses, and sweep up your mistress."*
Another of his stories was this. He happened
to be shooting hyenas near Carthage, when he stum-
bled, and fell down an abyss of many fathoms' depth.
He was surprised, however, to find himself unhurt ;
for he lighted as if on a feather-bed. Presently he
perceived that he was gently moved upwards ; and
* This "Joe" has been told with some variations. That 1
have given it in the very words of Mr. Rogers (which a corres-
pondent to the Athenccwii charges me with misrepresenting), see
proof in the Addenda to this volume. — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 135
having by degrees reached the mouth of the abyss,
he again stood safe on terra firvia. He had fallen
upon an immense mass of bats, which, disturbed from
their slumbers, had risen out of the abyss and brought
him up with them.
I knew Joseph Warton well. When Matthias
attacked him in The Pursuits of Litarature, for re-
printing some loose things* in his edition of Pope,
Joseph wrote a letter to me, in which he called Mat-
thias " his 'pious critic," — rather an odd expression
to come from a clergyman. — He certainly ought not
to have given that letter of Lord Cobham. f
I never saw Thomas Warton. I once called at
the house of Robinson the bookseller for Dr. Kippis,
who used to introduce me to many literary parties,
and who that evening was to take me to the Society
of Antiquaries. He said, " Tom Warton is up
* The Imitation of the Second Satire of the First Book of Horace,
and the chapter of " The Double Mistress," in the Memoirs ofScrib-
lerus : Matthias also objected to " a few trumpery, vulgar copies of
verses which disgrace the pages." — Ed.
f See J. Warton's Life of Poj^e, p. li. The letter had been
previously printed, — in the dullest of all biographies, RufEhead's
Life of Pope, p. 276.— Ed.
136 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
stairs." How I now wish that I had gone up and
seen him ! His little poem, The Suicide, is a favour-
ite of mine. — Nor did I ever see Gibbon, or Cowper,
or Horace Walpole : and it is truly provoking to
reflect that I might have seen them !
There is no doubt that Matthias wrote The Pur-
suits of Literature ; and a dull poem it is, though
the notes are rather piquant,
Gilbert Wakefield used to say, he was certain
that Eennell and Glynn assisted Matthias in it ; and
Wakefield was well acquainted with all the three.
Steevens once said to Matthias, "Well, sir, since
you deny the authorship of The Pursuits of Literature,
I need have no hesitation in declaring to you that
the person who wrote it is a liar and a blackguard."
In one of the notes was a statement that Beloe
had received help from Porson in translating Al-
ciphron. Porson accordingly went to Beloe, and
said, " As you know that I did 7iot help you, pray,
write to Matthias and desire him to alter that note."
In a subsequent edition the note was altered.
One day I asked Matthias if he wrote The Pur-
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 137
siiits of Literature; and he answered, "My dear
friend, can yon suppose that I am the author of that
poem, when there is no mention made in it of your-
self?" Some time after, I happened to call on Lord
Besborough, who told me, that as he was illustrating
The Pursuits of Literature with portraits, he wanted
to get one of me. "Why," exclaimed I, "there is
no mention in it of me!" He then turned to the
note where I am spoken of as the banker who
" dreams on Parnassus."'"
What popularity Cowper's Task enjoyed! John-
son, the publisher, told me that, in C9nsequence of
the great number of copies which had been sold, he
made a handsome present to the author.
In order to attain general popularity, a poem must
have (what it is creditable to our countrymen that
* " Let me present a short passage from a Letter to Mr, Pitt
on the occasion of the Triple Assessment. ' Things, sir, are now
changed. Time was, when bankers were as stupid as their guineas
could make them; they were neither orators, nor painters, nor poets.
But ?ww Mr. Dent has a speech and a bitc?i, at your service ; Sir
Robert has his pencil and canvas ; and Mr. Rogers dreams on Par-
nassus ; and, if I am rightly informed, there is a great demand
among his brethren for tfie Pleasures of McTKory' " P. 360, ed.
1808.— Ed.
138 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE
they look for) a strong religious tendency, and must
treat of subjects which require no previous know-
ledge in the readers. Cowper's poems are of that
description.
Here are two fine lines in Cowper's Task ;*
V Knowledge is proud that he has learn'd so much ;
Wisdom is humble that he knows no more."
Sometimes in his rhymed poetry the verses run with
all the ease of prose : for instance, —
"The path of sorrow, and that path alone,
Leads to the land where sorrow is unknown.!
Cumberland was a most agreeable companion, and
a very entertaining converser. His theatrical anec-
dotes were related with infinite spirit and humour :
his description of Mrs. Siddons coming off the stage
in the full flush of triumph, and walking up to the
mirror in the green-room to survey herself, was ad-
mirable. He said that the three finest pieces of
acting w^iich he had ever witnessed, were Garrick's
Lear, Henderson's Falstaff and Cooke's lago.
* Book vi.— Ed.
f An Epistle to an afflicted Protestant Lady in France. — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 131)
When Cumberland was composing any work, he
never shut himself up in his study : he always wrote
in the room where his family sat, and did not feel the
least disturbed by the noise of his children at play
beside him."
Lord Holland and Lord Lansdowne having ex-
pressed a wash to be introduced to Cumberland, I
invited all the three to dine with me. It happened,
however, that the two lords paid little or no atten-
tion to Cumberland (though he said several very
good thmgs), — scarcely speaking to him the whole
time : something had occurred in the House whicli
occupied all their thoughts ; and they retired to a
window, and discussed it.
Mitford, the historian of Greece, possessed, be-
sides his learning, a wonderful variety of accomplish-
ments. I always felt the highest respect for him.
When, not long before his death, I used to meet him
in the street, bent almost double, and carrying a long
staff in his hand, he reminded me of a venerable
pilgrim just come from Jerusalem. — His account
* Compare Cumberland's Mnnoirs, i. 264, ii. 204. — Ed.
UO EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
of the Homeric age, — of the Sicihan cities, — and
several other parts of his History, are very pleasing.
Lane made a large fortune by the immense quan-
tity of trashy novels which he sent forth from his
Minerva-j)ress. I perfectly well remember the splen-
did carriage in which he used to ride, and his foot-
men with their cockades and gold-headed canes.
Now"-a-days, as soon as a novel has had its run,
and is beginning to be forgotten, out comes an edi-
tion of it as a " standard novel ! "
One afternoon, at court, I was standing beside
two intimate acquaintances of mine, an old nobleman
and a middle-aged lady of rank, when the former
remarked to the latter that he thought a certain
young lady near us was uncommonly beautiful. The
middle-aged lady replied, " I cannot see any parti-
cular beauty in her." — " Ah, madam," he rejoined,
"to us old men youth always appears beautiful!"
(a speech with which Wordsworth, when I repeated
it to him, was greatly struck). The fact is, till we
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. HI
are about to leave the world, we do not perceive how
much it contains to excite our interest and admira-
tion : the sunsets appear to me far lovelier now than
they were in other years ; and the bee upon the
flower is now an object of curiosity to me, which it
was not in my early days.
With the exception of some good lines, such
as, —
" Hell in his heart, and Tyburn in his face,"*
Churchill's poetry is, to my thinking, but mediocre ;
and for such poetry I have little toleration ; though
perhaps, when I recollect my own writings, I ought
not to make the remark.
I am not sure that I do not prefer Wolcot (Pe-
ter Pindar) to Churchill. — Wolcot's Gipsy]- is very
neat.
[" A -wandering gipsy, sirs, am I,
From Norwood, where we oft complain,
"With many a tear and many a sigh.
Of blustering winds and rusliing rain.
* Not inserted in Wolcot's Poet. Worhs. 5 vols. — Ed.
f Tltc A^itlior.—'ET).
142 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
No costly rooms or gay attire
Within our humble shed appear ;
No beds of down, or blazing fire,
At uight our shivering limbs to cheer.
Alas, no friend comes near our cot !
The redbreasts only find the way,
Who give their all, a simple note.
At peep of morn and parting day.
'Bu.t fortunes here I come to tell, —
Then yield me, gentle sir, your hand : —
Within these lines what thousands dwell, —
And, bless me, what a heap of land !
It surely, sir, must pleasing be
To hold such wealth in every line :
Try, pray, now try, if you can see
A little treasure lodg'd in mine."]
And there can hardlv be a better line of its kind than
this, —
' ' Kill half a cow, and turn the rest to grass."*
In company with my sister, I paid a visit to
Gilbert Wakefield when he was in Dorchester Gaol.
* Comjjlimentanj Epistle to Javics Bosivell, E.^q. — ED.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 143
His confinement was made as pleasant to him as
possible ; for he had nearly an acre of ground to walk
about in. But, still, the sentence passed upon him
was infamous : what rulers we had in those days !
Wakefield gave Beloe some assistance in translat-
ing Aulus Gellius.
At a splendid party given by Lord Hampden to
the Prince of Wales, &c., I saw Lady Hamilton go
through all those "attitudes" which have been en-
graved ; and her performance was very beautiful in-
deed. Her husband. Sir William, was present.
Lord Nelson was a remarkably kind-hearted man.
I have seen him spin a teetotum with his one hand,
a whole evening, for the amusement of some children.
I heard him once during dinner utter many bitter
complaints (which Lady Hamilton vainly attempted
to check) of the way he had been treated at court
that forenoon : the Queen had not condescended to
take the slightest notice of him. In truth, Nelson
was hated at court ; they were jealous of his fame.
There was something very charming in Lady
144 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
Hamilton's openness of manner. She showed me the
neckcloth which Nelson had on when he died : of
com^se, I could not help looking at it with extreme
interest ; and she threw her arms round my neck and
kissed me. — She was latterly in great want; and
Lord Stowell never rested till he procured for her a
small pension from government.
Parson Este* was well acquainted wfth Mrs.
Eobinson (the once celebrated Perdita), and said
that Fox had the greatest difficulty in persuading the
Prince of "Wales to lend her some assistance when,
towards the close of life, she was in very straitened
circumstances. Este saw her funeral, which was at-
tended by a single mourning coach. f
* See pp. 59, CO,
f Poor Perdita had some poetic talent : and it was acknow-
ledged by Coleridge, whose lines to her, " As late on Skiddaw's
mount I lay supine," &c., are not to be found in the recent col-
lections of his poems. See, at p. xlviii. of the Tributary Poems
prefixed to M7-s. Boh'inson's Poetical Worlis, 3 vols., " A Stranger
Minstrel. By S. T. Coleridge. K^^q., n-ritten a few Tvcelis Icfore her
death'' and dated " Nov., 1800."— Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGEES. 145
A person once asserted that in a particular coun-
try the bees were as large as sheep. He was asked
** How big, then, are the hives ? " — " Oh," he replied,
" the usual size."
I knew Jane Duchess of Gordon intimately, and
many pleasant hours have I passed in her society.
She used to say, " I have been acquainted with
David Hume and William Pitt, and therefore I am
not afraid to converse with any body."
The Duchess told the following anecdote to Lord
Stowell, who told it to Lord Dunmore, who told it
to me. " The son of Lord Cornwallis [Lord Brome]
fell in love with my daughter Louisa ; and she liked
him much. They were to be married ; but the in-
tended match was broken off by Lord C, whose
only objection to it sprung from his belief that there
was madness in my husband's family. Upon this I
contrived to have a tete-d-tete with Lord C, and
said to him, ' I know your reason for disapproving
of your son's marriage with my daughter : now, I
"will tell you one thing plainly, — there is not a drop
of the Gordon blood in Louisa's body.' With this.
10
146 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
statement Lord C. was quite satisfied, and the mar-
riage took place." The Duchess prided herself
greatly on the success of this manoeuvre, though it
had forced her to slander her own character so
cruelly and so unjustly ! In fact, manoeuvring was
her delight.
One morning I was about to mount my horse to
ride into London to the banking-house, when, to
my astonishment, I read in the newspapers that a
summons had been issued to bring me before the
Privy-Council. I immediately proceeded to Down-
ing Street, and asked to see Mr. Dundas, I was
admitted ; and I told him that I had come to inquire
the cause of the summons which I had seen an-
nounced in the newspapers. He said, "Have you a
carriage here?" I replied, "A hackney-coach." In-
to it we got ; and there was I sitting familiarly with
Dundas, whom I had never before set eyes on. We
drove to the Home-Office ; and I learned that I had
been summoned to give evidence in the case of Wil-
liam Stone, accused of high treason. — Long before
this, I had met Stone in the Strand, when he told
me among other things, that a person had arrived
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. Ii7
here from France to gather the sentiments of the
people of England concerning a French invasion ;
and that he (Stone) would call upon me and read to
me a paper on that subject. I said, " You vv'ill infect
me with the plague ; " and we parted. In the course
of a few days he did call with the paper. — After the
Government had laid hold of Stone, he mentioned
his intercourse with me ; and hence my summons.
When his trial took place, I was examined by the
Attorney-General, and cross-examined by Erskine.
For some time before the trial I could scarcely get a
wink of sleep : the thoughts of my appearance at it
made me miserable.
[Extract from Tlic Trial of William Stone, for
High Treason, at the bar of the Court of King's
Bench, on TJiursday the TiDenty -eighth and Friday
the Ticenty-ninth of January, 1796. Taken in short-
hand by JosejjJi Gurney, 1796.
" Samuel Bogers, Esq. (sworn.)
Examined by Mr. Attorney -General.
Q. You know Mr, William Stone ?
A. Yes.
Q. Do you know Mr. Hurford Stone?
148 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
A. I have known him many years.
Q. Do you recollect having any conversation —
and if you do, be so good as state to my Lord and the
Jury, what conversation you had with Mr. William
Stone relative to an invasion of this country ?
A. He met me, I think it was in the month of
March, 1794, in the street ; he stopped me to men-
tion the receipt of a letter from his brother at Paris,
on the arrival of a gentleman, who wished particu-
larly to collect the sentiments of the people of this
country with respect to a French invasion. — Our
conversation went very little further, for it was in the
street.
Q. Do you recollect what you said to him, if you
said anything?
A. I recollect that I rather declined the conver-
sation.
Q. I ask you, not what you declined or did not de-
cline, but what you said to him, if you said any thing.
A. I was in a hurry, and I believe all I said was
to decline the conversation.
Q. State in what language you did decline that
conversation.
A. I said that I had no wish to take any part
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 149
whatever in any political transactions at that time ;
it was a time of general alarm, and I wished to shun
even the shadow of an imputation, as I knew that
when the minds of men were agitated, as I thought
they then were, the most innocent intentions were
liable to misconstruction.
Q. Did he inform you who the person was?
A, No, he did not ; I only learned that it was a
gentleman arrived from Paris; I speak from recol-
lection.
Q. Did he inform you what gentleman he was?
A. I do not recollect that he did.
Q. Did he ever call upon you after you had de-
clined this conversation ?
A. He did call upon me a few days after ; and
he read to me a paper, which I understood to be
written by somebody else, but I cannot say who ;
.and which went to show, as far as I can recollect,
that the English nation, however they might differ
among themselves, would unite to repel an invasion.
Q. After you had declined a conversation upon
this subject, from motives of discretion, Mr. Stone
■called upon you and showed you this paper ?
150 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
A. He told me in the street he should call upon
me.
Q. Had you any further conversation with him
at any time upon this subject ?
A. He mentioned at that time that he thought
he should do his duty, if, by stating what he believed
to be true, he could save the country from an inva-
sion.
Q. Did he ever tell you where this gentleman
went to afterwards ?
A. I never had any further conversation with
him upon the subject.
Q. He never came to consult you about what this
gentleman was doing any where but in England ?
A. No ; I believe I never met him again.
Samuel Bogers, Esq.
Cross-examined by Mr. Erskinc.
Q. Mr. Stone, meeting you accidentally in the
street, communicated this to you ?
A. In the open street.
Q. Not with any secrecy ?
A. By no means.
Q. And you might have told it me, if I had hap-
pened to have met you five minutes afterwards ?
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 151
A. Very likely.
Q. Have you had any acquaintance with Mr.
Stone ?
A. I have met him frequently for many years.
Q. What is his character with respect to loyalty
to his king, and regard to his country ?
A. I had always an opinion that in that respect
he was a very well-meaning man." pp. 144-6.]
I cannot relish Shakespeare's Sonnets. The song
in As you like it, "Blow, blow, thou winter wmd,"
is alone worth them all.
Do not allow yourself to be imposed upon by the
authority of great names : there is not a little both
in Shakespeare and in Milton that is very far from
good. The famous passage in Hamlet, though it has
passed into a sort of proverbial expression, is down-
right nonsense, —
"a custom
More honour'd in the breach than in the observance :"*
how can a custom be honoured in the breach of it ?
* Act ii. sc. 4. — '•' Compare the following line of a play attri-
buted to Jonson, Fletcher, and Middleton ;
' He keeps his promise best that breaks with hell.'
The Widow, act iii. sc. 2."
Dyce's Remarlis on Mr. Collier's and Mr. Knlghfs editions of
ShahesjJeare, p. 2]0. — Ed,
152 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
In Milton's description of the lazar-house there
is a dreadful confusion of metaphor : —
" Sight so deform what licart of rock could loug
2)r^-ey J behold?"*
I once observed this to Coleridge, who told Words-
worth that he could not sleep all the next night for
thinking of it.
Some speeches in Paradise Lost have as much
dramatic force as any thing in Shakespeare ; for in-
stance, —
" Know ye not, then, said Satan fill'd with scorn.
Know ye not me ? Ye knew me once no mate
For you, there sitting where ye durst not soar," &c.t
It is remarkable that no poet before Shakespeare
ever introduced a person walking in sleep. I believe
there is no allusion to such a circumstance in any of
the Greek or Latin poets. — What a play that is !
was there ever such a ghost? — " the table's full ! " I
* Par. Lost, b. xi. 49i. — In a note on this passnge Dunster says
that the combination of heart of rock and dry-cfd is from Tibullus,
lib. i. El. \. C3, &c. ;
'■^Flc'bis; uon tua sunt duro praBcordia ferro
Vincta, nee in tenero stat tibi cordc silex." — Ed.
t Par. Lost, b. iv. 827.— Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 153
never missed going to see it, when Kemble and Mrs.
Siddons played Macbeth and Lady Macbeth : their
noble acting, and Lockes' fine music, made it a de-
lightful treat.
If you wish to have your works coldly reviewed,
get your intimate friend to write an article on them.
I know this by experience. — Ward (Lord Dudley)
" cut up " my Columbus in the The Quarterly : but he
afterwards repented of it, and apologised to me.*
* The No. of The Qnarterlij (see voL ix. 207) which contained
the critique in question had just appeared, when ]\Ir. Rogers, who
had not yet seen it, called on Lord Grosvenor, and found Gilford
sitting with him. Between Mr. Rogers and Gifford there was little
cordiality ; hut on that occasion they chatted together in a very
friendly manner. After Mr. Rogers had left the room, Gifford said
to Lord Grosvenor with a smile, " Do you think he has seen the
last Quarterly ? "
Mr. Rogers took his revenge for that critique by frequently re-
peating the folio wing epigram, which hasbeen erroneously attributed
to others, but which, as Mr. Rogers told me, he himself wrote ^ with
some little assistance from Richard Sharj) ;
'' Ward has no heart, they say ; but I deny it ; —
He has a heart, and gets his speeches by it."
One day while Mr. Rogers was on bad terms with Ward
Lady said to him, " Have you seen Ward lately?" " What
154 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
I have seen Howard the philanthropist more than
once : he was a remarkably mild-looking man. His
book on prisons is excellently written. It is not
generally known that he had considerable assistance
from Dr. Price in composing it."
Ward?" — " Why, our Ward, of course." "(??/?• Ward ; j'ou may
keep him all to yourself."
CohimMis was first printed in a thin quarto, for private cir-
culation, 1810. When Ward reviewed it in 1813, as forming a
portion of Mr. Eogers's collected poems, it had heen greatly en-
larged.
Another article in The Quarterly gave considerable annoyance
to Mr. Rogers, — the critique by George Ellis on Byron's Corsair
and Lara. (vol. xi. 428), in which Mr. Eogers's Jacqueline (origin-
ally appended to Lara^ is only mentioned as "the highly refined,
but somewhat insipid, pastoral tale of Jacqueline." — When Mr.
Eogers was at Brighton in 1851, Lady Byron told him that her
husband, on reading Ellis's critique, had said, " The man's a fool.
Jacqueline is as superior to Lara as Eogers is to me." Who will
believe that Byron said this sincerely ? Yet Jacqueline is undoubt-
edly a beautiful little poem. — Ed.
■ * As I thought it right to mention Mr. Howard's literary
deficiencies, it is become necessary to inform the public of the
manner in which his works were composed. On his return from
his tours he took all his memorandum-books to an old friend of
his, who assisted him in methodising them, and copied out the
whole matter in correct language. They were then put into the
hands of Dr. Price, from whom they underwent a revision, and
received occasionally considerable alterations. Aiken's View of
the Character and Public Services of the late John Howard, p. 64.
—Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGERS. 155
Sir Henry Englefield had a fancy (which some
greater men have had) that there was about his per-
son a natural odour of roses and violets. Lady
Grenville, hearing of this, and loving a joke, ex-
claimed, one day when Sir Henry was present,
"Bless me, what a smell of violets !" — " Yes," said
he with great simplicity ; "it comes from me."
We have in England the finest series of pic-
tures and the finest of sculptures in the world, —
I mean, the Cartoons of Eaphael and the Elgin
Marbles.
Our National Gallery is superior to any private
collection of pictures in Italy, — superior, for instance,
to the Doria and Borghese collections, which contain
several very indifferent things.
Perhaps the choicest private collection in this
country is that at Panshanger (Earl Cowper's) : it is
small, but admirable ; what Eaphaels, what Andrea
del Sartos, what Claudes !
156 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
In former days Cuyp's pictures were compara-
tively little valued: he was the first artist who
painted I'ujht, and therefore he was not understood.
Sir WilHam Beechey was at a picture-sale with Wil-
son, wlien one of Cuyp's pieces was knocked down
for a trifling sum. "Well," said Wilson, "the day
toill come when both Cuyp's works and my own will
bring the prices which they ought to bring."
Look at this engraving by Marc Antonio after
Eaphael, — Michael treading upon Satan, and note
its superiority to Guido's picture on the same sub-
ject. In the latter, the countenance of Michael ex-
presses triumph alone ; in the former, it expresses
triumph mingled with pity for a fallen brother-
angel.
This Last Supper by Eaphael [Marc Antonio's
engraving] is, I think, in all respects superior to that
by Lionardo. The apostle on the right hand of
Christ strikingly displays his indignation against the
betrayal of his Lord by grasping the table-knife.
Never in any picture did I see such a figure as
this, — I mean, a figure so completely floating on the
air [the Angel holding the wreath in Marc Antonio's
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS, 157
engraving, after Eaphael, of the martyrdom of St,
Felicita] .
Sir Thomas Lawrence used to say, that among
painters there were three pre-eminent for invention,
— Giorgione, Eembrandt, and Rubens ; and perhaps
he was right.
Sir Thomas Lawrence has painted several very
pleasing pictures of children ; but generally his men
are effeminate, and his women meretricious. — Of his
early portraits Sir Joshua Reynolds said, " This
young man has a great deal of talent ; but there is
an affectation in his style which he will never entirely
shake off."
We have now in England a greater number of
tolerably good painters than ever existed here to-
gether at any former period : but, alas, we have no
Hogarth, and no Reynolds !
I must not, however, forget that we have Turner,
— a man of first-rate genius in his line. There is in
158 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
some of his pictures a grandeur which neither Claude
nor Poussin could give to theirs.
Turner thinks that Euben's landscapes are defi-
cient in nature. I differ from him. Indeed, there-''
is a proof that he is mistaken ; look at that forest-
scene by Eubens ; the foreground of it is truth
itself.
The Art Union is a perfect curse : it buys and
engraves very inferior pictures, and consequently
encourages mediocrity of talent ; it makes young
men, who have no genius, abandon the desk and
counter, and set up for painters.
The public gave little encouragement to Flaxman
and Banks, but showered its patronage on tw"o much
inferior sculptors. Bacon and Chantrey.
As to Flaxman, the greatest sculptor of his day,
— the neglect which lie experienced is something in-
conceivable. Canova, who was well acquainted with
his exquisite illustrations of Dante, &c., could hardly
believe that a man of such genius w^as not an object
of admiration among his countrj'men ; and, in allu-
sion to their insensibility to Flaxman's merits and to
* i.e. on the wall of Jlr. Eogers's diniuir-room. — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGERS. 151)
tlieir patronage of inferior artists, he said to some of
the Enghsh at Eome, " You see with your ears ! "
Chantrey began his career by being a carver in
wood. The ornaments on that mahogany sideboard,
and on that stand [in Mr. Eogers's dining-room] ,
were carved by him. [Subsequently, when a gentle-
man informed Mr. Eogers that the truth of this last
statement had been questioned, he entered into the
following particulars. — Chantrey said to me one day,
"Do you recollect that, about twenty-five years ago,
a journeyman came to your house, from the wood-
carver employed by you and Mr. Hope, to talk about
these ornaments, and that you gave him a drawing
to execute them by?" I replied that I recollected
it perfectly. "Well," continued Chantrey, "I was
that journeyman."] When he w^as at Eome in the
height of his celebrity, he injured himself not a httle
by talking with contempt''- of the finest statues of
antiquity, — Jackson (the painter) told me that he
and Chantrey went into the studio of Dannecker the
* Mr. Rogers, I apprehend, was mistaken on this point. From
Jones"s Life of Chantretj, p. 26, it appears that Chantrey did not
admire those statues so much as they are generally admired, and
therefore was unwilling to give his opinion on them ; but that he
never spoke of them " with contempt." — Ed.
IGO RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
sculptor, who happened to be from home. There
was an unfinished bust in the room; and Chantrey,
taking up a chisel, proceeded to work upon it. One
of the assistants immediately rushed forwards, in
great alarm, to stop him ; but no sooner had Chan-
trey given a blow on the chisel, than the man ex-
claimed, with a knowing look, " Ha ! ha ! " — as much
as to say, " I see that you perfectly understand what
you are about." — Chantrey practised portrait-paint-
ing both at Sheffield and after he came to London.
It was in allusion to him that Lawrence said, " A
broken-down painter will make a very good sculptor."
Ottley's knowledge of painting was astonishing.
Showing him a picture which I had just received
from Italy, I said, " Whose work do you suppose it
to be?" After looking at it attentively, he replied,
"It is the work of Lorenzo di Credi " (by whom I
already knew that it was painted). — "How," I asked,
" could you discover it to be from Lorenzo's pencil?
have you ever before now seen any of his pieces ? "
"Never," he answered; "but I am familiar with
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. IGl
the description of his style as given by Vasari and
others."
I regret that so httle of Curran's brilhant talk
has been preserved. How much of it Tom Moore
could record, if he would only take the trouble !
I once dined with Curran in the public room of
the chief inn at Greenwich, when he talked a great
deal, and, as usual, with considerable exaggeration.
Speaking of something which he would not do on any
inducement, he exclaimed vehemently, " I had rather
be hanged upon twenty gibbets." — " Don't you
think, sir, that one would be enough for you ? " said
a girl, a stranger, who was sitting at the table next
to us. I wish you could have seen Curran's face.
He was absolutely confounded, — struck dumb.
Very few persons know that the poem called Ulm
and Trafalgar* was written by Canning. He com-
posed it (as George Ellis told me) in about two days,
while he walked up and down the room. Indeed,
very few persons know that such a poem exists.
* A short poem printed for Ridgeway, ISCG, 4to. — Ed.
11
1C2 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
After Legge was appointed Bishop of Oxford, he
had the folly to ask two wits, Canning and Frere, to
be present at his first sermon. " Well," said he to
Canning, " how did you like it ? " " Why, I thought
it rather — short." — "Oh, yes, I am aware that it
was short ; but I was afraid of being tedious." " You
were tedious."
A lady having put to Canning the silly question,
"Why have they made the spaces in the iron gate
at Spring Gardens* so narrow?" he replied, "Oh,
ma'am, because such very fat people used to go
through " (a reply concerning which Tom Moore
said, that "the person who does not relish it can
have no perception of real wit ").
I once mentioned to Canning the anecdote,!
that, while Gray was at Peter House, Cambridge,
* At the end of Spriug Garden Passage, which opens into St.
James's Park. — Ed.
f Whence this very suspicious version of the anecdote was de-
rived I cannot learn. In a Ms. note of Cole it is given as follows:
"One of their tricks was, knowing that Mr. Gray had [having?] a
dread of fire, had rope-ladders in his chamber; they alarmed him in
the middle of the night with the cry of fire, in hope of seeing him
make use of them from his window, in the middle story of the new
building."' Mitford's Gray, i. cviii. It was in consequence of these
"tricks" that Gray removed from Peter House to Pembroke Hall,
— Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 163
some young men of the college having learned that
he had a fire-escape in his rooms, alarmed him in the
middle of the night by a cry of "fire," — and that
presently Gray descended from the window by a
ladder of ropes, and tumbled into a tub of water,
which the rogues had placed there ; — upon which.
Canning added, that "they had made a mistake
in calling out ' fire,' when they meant to cry
' water.' "
Canning said that a man who could talk of liking
dry champagne w^ould not scruple to say any thing.
The Duke of York told me that Dr. Cyril Jack-
son most conscientiously did his duty as tutor to him
and his brother, the Prince of Wales. "Jackson,"
said the Duke, " used to have a silver pencil-case ni
his hand while we were at our lessons ; and he has
frequently given us such knocks with it upon our
foreheads, that the blood followed them."
I have often heard the Duke relate how he and
his brother George, when young men, were robbed
by footpads on Hay Hill.^'= They had dined that
* Hay Hill, Berkeley Street, leading to Dover Street.— Ed.
164 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
day at Devonshire House, had then gone home to lay
aside their court-dresses, and afterwards proceeded
to a house of a certain description in the neighbour-
hood of Berkeley Square. They were returning from
it in a hackney-coach, late at night, when some foot-
pads stopped them on Hay Hill, and carried off their
purses, watches, &c.
In his earlier days the Duke of York was most
exact in paying all his debts of honour. One night
at Brookes's, while he was playing cards, he said to
Lord Thanet, who was about to go home to bed,
"Lord Thanet, is our betting still to continue?"
" Yes, sir, certainly," was the reply : and next morning
Lord Thanet found 1500L left for him at Brookes's
by the Duke. But gradually he became less parti-
cular in such matters ; and at last he would quietly
pocket the winnings of the night from Lord Eobert
Spencer, though he owed Lord Eobert about five
thousand pounds.
I have several times stayed at Oatlands with the
Duke and Duchess of York — both of them most
amiable and agreeable persons. We were generally
a company of about fifteen ; and our being invited
to remain there " another day " sometimes depended
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 165
on the ability of our royal host and hostess to raise
sufficient money for our entertainment. We used
to have all sorts of ridiculous " fun " as we roamed
about the grounds. The Duchess kept (besides a
number of dogs, for which there was a regular burial-
place) a collection of monkeys, each of which had
its own pole with a house at top. One of the
visitors (whose name I forget) would single out a
particular monkey, and play to it on the fiddle with
such fury and perseverance, that the poor animal,
half-distracted, would at last take refuge in the arms
of Lord Alvanley. — Monk Lewis was a great fa-
vourite at Oatlands. One day after dinner, as the
Duchess was leaving the room, she whispered some-
thing into Lewis's ear. He was much affected, his
eyes filling with tears. We asked what was the
matter. "Oh," replied Lewis, "the Duchess spoke
so very kindly to me!" — "My dear fellow," said
Colonel Armstrong,''' "pray don't cry; I daresay
she didn't mean it."
I was in the pit of the Opera with Crabbe the
poet when the Duchess of York beckoned to me, and
* Query about this name ? Sometimes, while telling the story,
Mr. Rogers would say, '•! think it was Colonel Armstrong." — Ed.
166 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE
I went into her bos. There was no one with her
except a lady, whom I did not know; and supposing
that she was only one of the Duchess's attendants,
I talked very unguardedly about the Duke of Kent.
Now, the lady was the Duchess of Gloucester, who
took great offence at what I said, and has never for-
given me for it. The Duchess of York told me
afterwards that she sat in perfect misery, expecting
that, when I had done with the Duke of Kent, I
should fall upon the Duke of Gloucester.
In Monk Lewis's writings there is a deal of
bad taste; but still he was a man of genius. I'll
tell you two stories which he was very fond of
repeating (and which Windham used to like). The
first is:
The Skeleton in tlte Cliurch-i^orch.
Some travellers were supping at an inn in Ger-
many, and sent for the landlord to give him a glass
of wine. In the course of conversation the landlord
remarked that a certain person whom they happened
to speak of, was as obstinate as the Skeleton in the
Church-porch. "What is that?" they inquired.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 1G7
The landlord said that he alhided to a skeleton
which it was impossible to keep under ground ; that
he had twice or thrice assisted in laying it in the
charnel, but that always, the day after it had been
buried, it was found lying in the church-porch. The
travellers were greatly struck by this account ; and
they expressed an eager desire to see the refractory
skeleton. At last, a young serving- woman coming
into the room, they asked her if she, for a reward,
would go to the church-porch and bring the skeleton
to them. She at first refused to do so; but eventu-
ally the travellers offered a sum of money which
she could not resist. Be it particularly observed
that the young woman was then big ivitli child.
Well, off she set to the church ; and having found
the skeleton in its usual place, she brought it to the
inn on her back, and laid it upon the table before
the travellers. They had no sooner looked at it
than they wished it gone ; and they prevailed on the
young woman, for another sum of money, to carry it
again to the church-porch. When she arrived there,
she set it down ; and turning away, she was pro-
ceeding quickly along the path which led from the
church, and which was seen stretching out before
IGS KECOLLECTIONS OF THE
lier in the clear moonlight, when suddenly she felt
the skeleton leap upon her back. She tried to shake
it off; but in vain. She then fell on her knees, and
said her prayers. The skeleton relaxed its hold;
and she again rushed down the path, when, as be-
fore, the skeleton leapt upon her back. "I will
never quit you," it said, "till you descend into the
charnel, and obtain forgiveness for the skeleton that
lies in the church-porch." She paused a moment;
then summoning up her courage, she replied that she
would do so. The skeleton dropped off. Down she
went into the charnel ; and, after groping about for
some time, she perceived the pale figure of a lady,
sitting by a lamp and reading. She advanced to-
wards the figure, and, kneeling, said, " I ask forgive-
ness for the skeleton that lies in the church-porch."
The lady read on without looking at her. Again
she repeated her supplication, but still the lady read
on, regardless of it. The yomig woman then as-
cended from the charnel, and was running down the
path when the skeleton once more arrested her pro-
gress. "I will never quit you," it said, "till you
obtain forgiveness for the skeleton that lies in the
church-porch : go again into the charnel, and ask
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGEES. 169
it." Again the young woman descended, and, ad-
vancing to the lady, sunk upon her knees, and cried,
"I come a second time to ask forgiveness for the
skeleton that lies in the church-porch. Oh, grant
that forgiveness ! the skeleton implores it ! I implore
it ! tlic babe that I bear in my icomb implores it also !"
The lady turned her head towards the speaker, gave
a faint smile, and disappeared. On coming up from
the charnel, the young woman found the skeleton
standing erect in the porch. "I am now here," it
said, "not to trouble you, but to thank you: you
have at length procured me rest in the grave. I was
betrothed to the lady whom you saw in the charnel ;
and I basely deserted her for another. I stood at
the altar, about to be married to my second love,
when suddenly the lady rushed into the church, and
having stabbed herself with a dagger, said to me, as
she was expiring, " You shall never have rest in the
grave, — no, never, till the babe unborn shall ash for-
giveness for you.'' The skeleton rewarded the good
offices of the young woman by discovering to her the
place where a heap of treasure was concealed.
The second story is :
170 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
Lord Howtk's Bat.
Tom Sheridan was shooting on the moors in Ire-
land, and lost his dog. A day or two after, it made
its appearance, following an Irish labourer. It was
restored to Sheridan, who remarked to the labourer
that " the dog seemed very familiar wdth him." The
answer was, " Yes, it follows me, as the rat did Lord
Howth." An inquiry about this rat drew forth what
is now to be told. — Lord Howth, having dissipated
his property, retired in very low spirits to a lonely
chateau on the sea-coast. One stormy night a vessel
was seen to go down ; and next morning a raft was
beheld floating towards the shore. As it approached,
the bystanders were surprised to find that it was
guided by a lady, who presently stepped upon the
beach. She was exquisitely beautiful ; but they
were unable to discover who or what she was, for she
spoke in an unknown tongue. Lord Howth was
struck with great pity for this fair stranger, and
conducted her to his chateau. There she remained
a considerable time, when he became violently ena-
moured of her, and at last asked her to become his
wife. She (ha\'ing now learned the English Ian-
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 171
guage) thanked him for the honour he had intended
her; but declared in the most positive terms that
she could never be his. She then earnestly advised
him to marry a certain lady of a neighbouring
county. He followed her advice ; paid his addresses
to the lady, and was accepted. Before the marriage,
the beautiful stranger took a ribbon from her hair,
and binding it round the wrist of Lord Howth, said,
"Your happiness depends on your never parting
with this ribbon." He assured her that it should
remain constantly on his wrist. She then disap-
peared, and was never seen again. The marriage
took place. The ribbon was a matter of much
wonder and curiosity to the bride ; and one night,
while Lord Howth was asleep, she removed it from
his wrist, and carried it to the fire, that she might
read the characters inscribed upon it. Accidentally
she let the flame reach it, and it was consumed.
Some time after. Lord Howth was giving a grand
banquet ni his hall, when the company were sud-
denly disturbed by the barking of dogs. This, the
servants said, was occasioned by a rat which the
dogs were pursuing. Presently the rat, followed by
the dogs, entered the hall. It mounted on the table,
172 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
and running up to Lord Howth, stared at him ear-
nestly with its bright black eyes. He saved its life \
and from that moment it never quitted him : wher-
ever he was, alone or with his friends, there was the
rat. At last the society of the rat became very dis-
agreeable to Lord Howth ; and his brother urged
him to leave Ireland for a tnne, that he might get
rid of it. He did so, and proceeded to Marseilles,
accompanied by his brother. They had just arrived
at that place, and were sitting in the room of an
hotel, when the door opened, and in came the rat.
It was dripping" wet, and went straight to the fire to
dry itself. Lord How^th's brother, greatly enraged
at the intrusion, seized the poker, and dashed out
its brains. "You have murdered me," cried Lord
Howth, and instantly expired.
Howley''' edited and wrote the preface to Kussell's
Sonnets and Poems. \ I like Russell's sonnet about
Philoctetes which you say Wordsworth admires so
much. I
* Appointed Archbishop of Canterbury in 1828.
t First printed at Oxford, 1789, 4to.— Ed.
% See letter to Eev. A. Dyce in Wordsworth's Memoirs, ii. 280.
—Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF .SAMUEL EOGEKS. 173
\_^^ Supposed to he Jvritten at Lcmnos.
On this lone isle, whose rugged ro'cks affright
The cautious pilot, ten revolving years
Great Pceas' son, unwonted erst to tears,
AV^ept o'er his wound : alike each rolling light
Of heaven he watch'd, and blam'd its lingering flight ;
By day the sea-mew, screaming round his cave,
Drove slumber from his eyes, the chiding wave
And savage howlings chas'd his dreams by night.
Hope still was his : in each low breeze that sigh'd
Through his rude grot he heard a coming oar,
In each white cloud a coming sail he spied ;
Nor seldom listen'd to the fancied roar
Of ffita's torrents, or the hoarser tide
That parts fam'd Trachis from th' Euboic shore."]
I like, too, that one which begins " Could, then,
the babes."
["Could, then, the babes from yon unshelter'd cot
Implore thy passing charity in vain?
Too thoughtless youth ! what though tliy happier lot
Insult their life of poverty and pain ;
What though their Maker doom'd them thus forlorn
To brook the mockery of the taunting throng,
Beneath th' oppressor's iron scourge to mourn,
To mourn, but not to murmur at his wrong?
174 RECOLLECTIONS OP THE
Yet when their last late evening shall decline,
Their evening cheerful, though their day distrest,
A hope perhaps more heavenly bright than thine,
A grace by thee unsought and unpossest,
A faith more fix'd, a rapture more divine,
Shall gild their passage to eternal rest."]
Grattan's aunt was intimate with Swift's Stella
(Mrs. Johnson), who would sometimes sleep with her
in the same bed, and pass the whole night in tears.
Stella was not handsome.
At one of Lady Crewe's dinner-parties, Grattan,
after talking very delightfully for some time, all at
once seemed disconcerted, and sunk into silence. I
asked his daughter, wdio was sitting next to me, the
reason of this. "Oh," she replied, "he has just
found out that he has come here in his powdering-
coat."
Grattan said that Malone went about, looking,
through strongly-magnifying spectacles, for pieces of
straw and bits of broken glass.
He used to talk with admiration of the French
translation of Demosthenes by Auger : he thought it
the best of all translations.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 175
He declared that the two greatest men of modern
times were WilHam the Third and Washington.
" Three persons, said Grattan, " are considered
as having the best claim to the authorship of Junius' s
Letters, — Gibbon, Hamilton, and Burke. Gibbon is
out of the question. I do not believe that they were
Hamilton's ; because a man, who was willing to be
known as the author of a bad piece, would hardly
have failed to acknowledge that he had written an
excellent book. I incline to think that Burke was
Junius."
"Burke," observed Grattan, "became at last
such an enthusiastic admirer of kingly power, that
he could not have slept comfortably on his pillow, if
he had not thought that the king had a right to carry
it off from under his head."
" Do you ever say your prayers ? " asked Plunkett
of Grattan. " No, never." — " What, never ! neither
night nor morning?" "Never: but I have aspira-
tions all day and all night long."
"What you have just mentioned," said one of
Grattan's friends to him, "is a profound secret :
where could you have heard it?" Grattan replied,
' " Where secrets are kept, — in the street."
176 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE
You remember the passage in my Human Life ? —
" A walk iu spriug — Grattan, like those with thee
By the heath-side (who had not envied me?),
When the sweet limes, so full of bees in June,
Led us to meet beneath their boughs at noon ;
And thou didst say which of the great and wise,
Could they but hear and at thy bidding rise,
Thou wouldst call up and question."
I allude to some lime-trees near Tunbridge Wells.
Grattan would say to me, "Come, Rogers, let's take
a walk among the lime-trees, and hear those great
senators, the bees;" and, while we were listening
to their buzzing and humming, he would exclaim,
" Now, they are holding a committee," &c. &c. He
would say, too, " Were I a necromancer, I should
like to call up Scipio Africanus ; he was not so skil-
ful a captain as Hannibal ; but he was a greater and
more virtuous man. And I should like to talk to
Julius Ccesar on several points of his history, — on
one particularly (though I would not press the sub-
ject, if disagreeable to him) ; — I should wish to know
what part he took during Catilme's conspiracy." —
"Should you like to call up Cleopatra?" I asked.
" No," replied Grattan, "not Cleopatra: she would
TABLE-TALK OP SAMUEL EOGEKS. 177
tell me nothing but lies ; and her beauty would make
me sad."" — Grattan was so fond of walking with me,
that Mrs. Grattan once said to him rather angrily,
" You'll be taken for Mr. Eogers's shadow."
" How I should like," said Grattan one day to
me, " to spend my whole life in a small neat cottage !
I could be content with very little ; I should need
only cold meat, and bread, and beer, — and ijlcnty of
claret."
I once said to Grattan, "If you were now only
twenty years old, and Cooke were about to set sail
round the world, should you like to accompany him?"
He answered, " I have no wish to see such countries
as he saw : I should like to see Rome, Athens, and
some parts of Asia ; but little besides."
He declared that he had rather be shot than go
up in a balloon.
Grattan's uncle, Dean Marlay, gave the nicest
* The very reverse of the effect which the beauty of the little
cottage-girl produced on Wordsworth — "Her beauty mademe^/acZ."
We are Seven. Speaking to me of the poem just cited, Wordsworth
said, " It is founded on fact. I met a little girl near Goderich
Castle, who, though some of her brothers and sisters were dead,
would talk of them in the present tense. I wrote that poem back-
ward,— that is, I began at the last stanza." — Ed,
12
173 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
little dinners and kept the best company in Dublin :
his parties were delightful. At that time he had
about four hundred a year. Afterwards, when he
succeeded to an estate and was made a Bishop/'' he
gave great dinners chiefly to people of rank and
fashion (foolish men and foolish women) ; and his
parties lost all their charm.
He had a good deal of the humour of Swift.
Once, when the footman was out of the way, he
ordered the coachman to fetch some water from the
well. To this the coachman objected, that his busi-
ness was to drive, not to run on errands. "Well,
then," said Marlay, "bring out the coach and four,
set the pitcher inside, and drive to the well?" — a ser-
vice which was several times repeated, to the great
amusement of the village.
Places are given away by Government as often
for the sake of silencing animosity as in the hope of
a,ssistauce from the parties benefited.
* He was successively Bishop of Clonfert and Bishop of
Waterford,— Ed.
TABLE-TALK OP SAMUEL ROGERS, IT'J
The French Eevohition was the greatest event in
Europe since the irruption of the Goths.
The most beautiful and magnificent view on the
face of the earth is the prospect of Mont Blanc from
the Jura Mountains.
Archibald Hamilton, afterwards Duke of Hamil-
ton," (as his daughter, Lady Dunmore, told me)
advertised for "a Hermit" as an ornament to his
pleasure-grounds ; and it was stipulated that the said
Hermit should have his beard shaved but once a
year, and that only partially.
A friend, calling on him one forenoon, asked if
it was true that he kept a young tame tiger. He
immediately slapped his thighs, and uttered a sort
of whistle ; and forth crept the long-backed animal
from under the sofa. The visitor soon retreated.
Lord Shelburne could say the most provoking
* Ninth Duke of Hamilton. — Ed.
180 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
things, and yet appear quite unconscious of their
being so. In one of his speeches, alluding to Lord
Carlisle, he said, "The noble lord has written a
comedy." "No, a tragedy.""'' — "Oh, I beg pardon;
I thourjht it ivas a comedy.'''
Only look at that sunset ! it is enough to make
one feel devout. — I was once driving through the
Park on my way to a dinner-party, when the sun
was setting so beautifully that I could not resist
staying to see all that I could see of it ; and so I
desired the coachman to drive me round and round
till it was fairly set. Dinner was begun when I
arrived; but that did not much matter. f
Once at Thomas Grenville's^ house I was raptu-
* The Fatlier's Revenge. — Ed.
t Those who were not acquainted with Mr. Rogers may perhaps
think that there was some affectation in all this : but assuredly
there was none. In the passage with Avhich Italy now concludes,
he says, describing himself, —
" Nature denied him much ;
But gave him at his birth what most he values,
A passionate love for music, sculpture, painting,
For poetry, the language of the gods.
For all things here or grand or beautiful,
A setting sun, a lake among the mountains," &c. — Ed.
X The Eight Honourable T. G.— Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 181
rously admiring a sunset. "Yes," he observed, "it
is very handsome : " and some time after, when
was admiring another sunset, he said, "Why, you are
as fooHsh as Kogers."
When a lady, a friend of mine, was in Italy, she
went into a church and knelt down among the crowd.
An Italian woman, who was praying at some little
distance, rose up, came softly to my friend, whispered
ni her ear, " If you continue to flirt with my hus-
band, I'll be the death of you ; " and then, as softly,
returned to her genuflections. Such things cannot
happen where there are pews.
I know few lines finer than the concluding stanza
of Life^ by Mrs. Barbauld, who composed it when
she was very old ;
" Life ! we've been long together,
Through pleasant and through cloudy weather :
'Tis hard to j)art when friends are dear ;
Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear ;
* Wordsworth also thought very highly of these lines: see his
Jlenwirs, ii. 222.— Ed.
182 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
Then steal away, give little warning,
Choose thine own time,
Say not Good Night, but in some brighter clime
Bid me Good Morning."
Sitting with Madame D'Arblay some weeks be-
fore she died, I said to her, " Do you remember
those Hues of Mrs. Barbauld's Life which I once
repeated to you ? " " Eemember them ! " she repHed ;
" I repeat them to myself every night before I go to
sleep."
Strangely enough,* in spite of her correct taste,
Mrs. Barbauld was quite fascinated by Darwin's Bo-
tanic Garden when it first appeared, and talked of it
with rapture ; for which I scolded her heartily.
One day, as she was going to Hampstead in the
stage-coach, she had a Frenchman for her companion ;
and entering into conversation with him, she found
that he was making an excursion to Hampstead for
the express purpose of seeing the house in the Flask
* It is not so strange, when we recollect that The Botanic Gar-
den fascinated even Cowper : see his verses to Darwin, written in
conjunction with Hayley. — Wordsworth once said to me: "Darwin
had not an atom of feeling : he was a mere eye- voluptuary. He
has so many similes all beginning with ' So,' that I used to call The
Botanic Garden 'so-so poetry.'" — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS, 183
Walk where Clarissa Harlowe lodged.* What a
compliment to the genius of Richardson !
Bobus Smith t (who could repeat by heart an
astonishing quantity of Latin inose) used to admire
greatly the "raptor, largitor".| of Tacitus. I am
inclined to prefer Sallust's expression, " alieni appe-
tens, sui profusus."§
A few days before his death, Bobus said to me,
" Rogers, however we may doubt on some points, we
have made up our minds on one, — that Christ was
* " The writer of these observations well remembers a French-
man who paid a visit to Hampstead for the sole purpose of finding
out the house inVae flash-walU where Clarissa lodged, and was sur-
prised at the ignorance or indifference of the inhabitants on that
subject. Th.Q Jlash-walhy^a?, to him as much classic ground as the
rocks of Meillerie to the admirers of Rousseau; and probably, if an
English traveller were to make similar inquiries in Switzerland, he
would find that the rocks of Meillerie and the chalets of the Valais
suggested no ideas to the inhabitants but such as were connected
with their dairies and their farms. A constant residence soon de-
stroys all sensibility to objects of local enthusiasm." Mrs. Bar-
bauld's Life of Rlcliardson, p. cix. — Ed.
t i.e. Robert Smith, the elder brother of Sydney, and one of
the best writers of Latin verse since the days of the ancients. Bo-
ius was the nickname given to him by his schoolfellows at Eton.
—Ed.
% Hist. lib. ii. c. 86.— Ed.
§ Bell, Cat., near the begiuniug. — Ed.
184 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
sent into the world commissioned by the Ahiiighty
to instruct mankind." I repHed, "Yes; of that I
am perfectly convinced."
When I was a lad, I recollect seeing a whole
cartful of young girls, in dresses of various colours,
on their way to be executed at Tyburn. They had
all been condemned, on one indictment, for having
been concerned in (that is, perhaps, for having been
spectators of) the burning of some houses during
Lord George Gordon's riots. It was quite horrible.
— Greville was present at one of the trials consequent
on those riots, and heard several boys sentenced,
to their own excessive amazement, to be hanged.
"Never," said Greville with great naivete, "did I
see boys cry so."
I once observed to a friend of mine, " Why, you
and Mr. live like two brothers." He replied,
" God forbid ! " And it must be confessed that most
of the " misunderstandings " which we hear of, exist
between brothers and sisters. These "misunder-
standings " often arise from the eminence acquired
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 185
by some one member of a family, wbich the others
canuot endure.
In my youth, just as I was beginning to be a
little known, I felt much gratified by an invitation
to breakfast with Townley, the statue collector ;
and one night, at home, I mentioned the invitation.
" You have told us that before," was the remark.
In days of old they used to put an obnoxious bro-
ther into a pit, and sell him to the Ishmaelites. — I
became very intimate wdth Townley, who liked me
because I was so fond of art. I have stayed with
him for days, both in London and in the country ;
indeed, I was in his house when he died.
Sir Thomas Lawrence told me, that when he, in
his boyhood, had received a prize* from the Society
* Sometimes, in telling this anecdote, Mr. Rogers would speak
of young Lawrence's prize as "a medal which he put on," &c. But
from Williams's Life of Lawrence it appears that the prize adjudged
to him in 1784 by the Society of Arts (for a drawing in craj'^ons
after the Transfiguration of Raphael) was the silver palette entirely
gilt and five guineas. " It was the law of the Society, that a work
of this description, to compete for the main prize [the gold medal]
must be performed within one year prior to the date at which it is
sent to the Society. Mr. Lawrence's drawing was marked as per-
formed in 1782, and it was not sent to the Society till the year
186 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
of Arts, he went with it into the parlour w4iere his
brothers and sisters were sitting ; but that not one
of them would take the slightest notice of it ; and
that he was so mortified by their affected indiffer-
ence, that he ran up stairs to his own room, and
burst into tears.
On coming home late one night, I found Sir
Thomas Lawrence in the street, hovering about my
door, and waiting for my return. He immediately
began the tale of his distress, — telling me that he was
in pressing want of a large sum of money, and that he
depended on my assistance, being sure that I would
not like to see the President of the Eoyal Academy
a bankrupt. I replied that I would try what I could
do for him next morning. Accordingly, I went early
to Lord Dudley. " As you," I said, " can command
thousands and thousands of pounds, and have a truly
feeling heart, I w^ant you to help a friend of mine, —
178i ; and this excluded it, according to the conditions of the
Society, from being taken into consideration for the higher prize.
It was considered, however, to possess such very extraordinary
merit, that the Society was not content with putting the gilt rim to
the palette, but ordered it to be entirely gilt. Pecuniary rewards
for works of art had long been abandoned ; and this vote of five
guineas was a very striking testimony of the opinions of the Society
in favour of the work." vol. i. 00. — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGERS. 187
not, however, by a gift, but either by a loan, or by
purchasing some vahiable articles which he has to
sell." Dudley, on learning the particulars, accom-
panied me to Sir Thomas's house, where we looked
at several pictures which he wished to dispose of in
order to meet the present difficulty. Most of them
were early pictures of the Italian school, and, though
valuable, not pleasing perhaps to any except artists.
Dudley bought one of them (a Eaphael, in his first
style, as it was called, and probably was), giving, I
believe, more than a thousand guineas for it ; and he
lent. Sir Thomas, on a bond, a very considerable sum
besides. No doubt, if Lawrence had lived, he would
have repaid Lord Dudley by instalments ; but he
died soon after, and not a penny was ever paid back.
This to so very wealthy a man as Dudley was of no
consequence ; and I dare say he never thought about
it at all. — Sir Thomas at the time of his death was
a good deal in my debt ; nor was I ever repaid. —
He used to purchase works of art, especially draw-
ings of the old masters, at immense prices ; he was
careless in keeping accounts ; and he was very gene-
rous : hence his difficulties, which were every now
and then occurring.
188 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE
When I mentioned to Mrs. Sidclons the anecdote
of "Lawrence and his prize," she said, "Alas! after
I became celebrated, none of my sisters loved me as
they did before."
Mrs. Siddons told me, that one night as she step-
ped into her carriage to return home from the thea-
tre, Sheridan suddenly jmnped in after her. " Mr.
Sheridan," she said, "I trust that you will behave
with all propriety : if you do not, I shall immediately
let down the glass, and desire the servant to show
you out." Sheridan did behave with all propriety :
"but," continued Mrs. Siddons, "as soon as we had
reached my house in Marlborough Street, and the
footman had opened the carriage-door, — only think !
the provoking wretch bolted out in the greatest
haste, and slunk away, as if anxious to escape un-
seen."
After she had left the stage, Mrs. Siddons, from
the want of excitement, was never happy. When I
was sitting with her of an afternoon, she would say,
"Oh, dear! this is the time I used to be thinking
of going to the theatre : first came the pleasure of
dressing for my part ; and then the pleasure of acting
it : but that is all over now."
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. ISO
When a grand public dinner was given to John
Kemble on his quitting the stage, Mrs. Siddons said
to me, " Well, perhaps in the next world women will
be more valued than they are in this." She alluded
to the comparatively little sensation which had been
produced by her own retirement from the boards :
and doubtless she was a far, far greater performer
than John Kemble.
Combe''' recollected having seen Mrs. Siddons,
when a very young woman, standing by the side of
* See p. 114. — Combe had conceived a violent dislil^e to Mrs.
Siddons, — why I Icnow not. In a passage of his best work lie stu-
diously avoids the mention of her name ; —
" The Drama's children strut and play
In borrow'd parts, their lives away ; —
And then they share the oblivious lot ;
Smith vrill, like Gibber, be forgot !
Gibber with fascinating art
Gould wake the pulses of the heart ;
But hers is an expiring name,
Anil darling Smith's will be the same."
The Tour of Doctor Syntax hi Search of the
Picturesque, p. 229, third ed. 1813.
The "darling Smith" was the late Mrs. Bartley. — Mrs. Siddons used
to say that the public had a sort of pleasure in mortifying their old
favourites by setting up new idols ; that she herself had been
three times threatened with an eclipse, — first by means of Miss
Brunton (afterwards Lady Graven), next by means of Miss Smith,
and lastly by means of Miss O'Neil: "nevertheless," she added, "I
am not yet extinguished." — Ed.
190 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
her father's stage, and knocking a pair of snuffers
against a candlestick, to nnitate the sound of a wind-
mill during the representation of some Harlequin-
piece.
John Kemble was often very amusing when he had
had a good deal of wine. He and two friends were
returning to town in an open carnage from the Priory
(Lord Abercorn's), wdiere they had dined; and as
they were w^aiting for change at a toll-gate, Kemble,
to the amazement of the toll-keeper, called out in
the tone of Eolla, "We seek no change; and, least
of all, such change as he would bring us.'"''
"When Kemble was living at Lausanne, he used
to feel rather jealous of Mont Blanc ; he disliked
to hear people always asking, ' ' How does Mont
Blanc look this morning ? "
Sir George Beaumont,! when a young man, was
introduced at Eome to an old painter, w^ro in his
* Pizarro, act ii. sc. 2 (where it is " as they would bring
us").— Ed.
f During his latter years, I have sometimes hear! Mr. Rogers
state that he was himself introduced to the old painter, &c. — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 191
youth had known an old painter, who had seen
Claude and Gaspar Poussin riding out, in a morning,
on mules, and furnished with palettes, &c., to make
sketches in the Campagna.
Three Irishmen (I am glad that they were not
Englishmen) went up Vesuvius. They stopped at
the hermitage to refresh themselves ; and while they
were drinking lachrima Christi there, the Emperor
and Empress of Austria arrived. The three Irish-
men positively refused to admit them ; but, after-
wards, on being told that a lady was outside, they
offered to give up half the apartment. Upon this,
the attendants of the Emperor (though against his
wish) speedily cleared the hermitage of the three
Irishmen, who, in a great passion, proceeded up to
the crater. As they were coming down again, they
met the royal personages, whom they abused most
heartily, calling the Empress a variety of names
under her bonnet. No notice of all this was ever
taken by the Emperor : but, the story having got
wind immediately, the three Irishmen thought it best
to decamp next morning from Naples, their conduct
192 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
having excited the highest indignation among the
British who were resident there. — I once told this
anecdote at Lord Lonsdale's table, when Lord Eldon
and Lord Castlereagh were present ; and the remark
of Lord Castlereagh was, " I am sorry to say that it
is too true."
The Colosseum in the Eegent's Park is a noble
building,''' — finer than any thing among the remains
of ancient architectural art in Italy. It is ridiculous
to hear Englishmen who have been at Eome talking
with such rapture of the ancient buildings they have
seen there : in fact, the old Eomans w'ere but indif-
ferent architects.
Georgiana Duchess of Devonshire was not so
beautiful as she w^as fascinating ; her beauty was not
that of features, but of expression. Every body
knows her poem. Mount St. Gothard ; she wrote also
what is much less known, a novel called The Sylj^hA
Gaming was the rage during her day ; she indulged
* Pulled down about 1874. f 1788. 2 vols.— Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 193
in it, and was made miserable by her debts. A faro-
table was kept by Martindale, at which the Duchess
and other high fashionables used to play. Sheridan
said that the Duchess and Martindale had agreed
that whatever they two won from each other should
be sometimes double, sometimes treble, the sum which
it was called ; and Sheridan assured me that he had
handed the Duchess into her carriage when she was
literally sobbing at her losses, — she perhaps having
lost 1500Z., when it was supposed to be only 500Z.
General Fitzpatrick said that the Duke's love
for her grew quite cool a month after their mar-
riage ; that she had many sigliing swains at her
feet, — among others, the Prince of Wales, who chose
to believe that she smiled upon Lord Grey ; and
hence the hatred which the Prince bore to him.
The Duke, when walking home from Brookes's
about day -break (for he did not relish the gaieties at
Devonshire House) used frequently to pass the stall
of a cobbler who had already commenced his work.
As they were the only persons stirring in that quar-
ter, they always saluted each other. " Good night,
friend," said the Duke. " Good viorning, sn%" said
the cobbler.
13
]94 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
The Ducliess was dreadfully hurt at the novel A
Winter in London ;* it contamed various anecdotes
concerning her, which had been picked up from her
confidential attendants; and she thought, of course,
that the little great world in which she lived was inti-
mately acquainted with all her proceedings. " Never
read that book, for it has helped to kill me," were
her words to a very near relative.
I introduced Sir Walter Scott to Madame
D'Arblay, having taken him with me to her house.
She had not heard that he was lame ; and when he
limped towards a chair, she said, " Dear me. Sir
Walter, I hope you have not uiet]' with an acci-
dent? " He answered, " An accident, madam, nearly
as old as my birth."
At the time when Scott and Byron were the two
lions of London, Hookham Frere observed, " Great
X)oets formerly (Homer and Milton) were blind ; now
they are lame."
* In 3 vols., by T. S. Suit. The Duchess figures in it under
the name of the Duchess of Belgrave. This novel (which was much
read at the time) is inferior to any second-rate work of fiction of
the I'lresent day. — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 195
One forenoon Scott was sitting for his bust to
Chantrey, who was quite m despair at the dull and
heavy expression of his countenance. Suddenly,
Fuller (" Jack Fuller," the then buffoon of the
House of Commons) was announced by a servant ;
and, as suddenly, Scott's face was lighted up to
that pitch of animation which the sculptor desired,
and which he made all haste to avail himself of.
After dining at my house, Sir Walter (then Mr.)
Scott accompanied me to a party given by Lady
Jersey. We met Sheridan there, who put the ques-
tion to Scott in express terms, " Pray, Mr. Scott,
did you, or did you not, write Waverley ? " Scott
replied, " On my lionour, I did not." Now, though
Scott may perhaps be justified for returning an an-
swer in the negative, I cannot think that he is
to be excused for strengthening it with " on my
honour."
There is a very pleasing spirit of kindness in
Scott's Life of Sicift and Lives of the Novelists ; he
endeavours to place every body's actions in the most
favourable light.
As a story, his Lady of the Lake is delightful.* —
* I have heard Wordsworth say that it was one of the most
harming stories ever invented by a poet. — Ed.
196 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
On the whole, his poetry is too carelessly written to
suit my taste ; but parts of it are very happy ; these-
lines of Marmion, for instance ;
" To seize the moment Marmion tried,
And whisper'd to the king aside :
' Oh, let such tears unwonted plead
For respite short from dubious deed !
A child will weep a bramble's smart,
A maid to see her sparrow part,
A stripling for a woman's heart :
But woe awaits a country when
She sees the tears of bearded men.
Then, oh, what omen, dark and high,
When Douglas wets his manly eye ? ' "*
and the still better passage in the same poem ;
" O woman ! in our hours of ease,
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please,
And variable as the shade
By the light quivering aspen made ;
When pain and anguish wring the brow,
A ministering angel thou ! "f
* Canto V. svi.— Ed. f Canto vi. xxx.— Ed,
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 197
Why there should be evil in the world is indeed a
mystery. Milton attempts to answer the question ;
but he has not done it satisfactorily. The three
acutest men with whom I was ever acquainted, Sir
James Mackintosh, Malthus, and Bobus Smith,* were
all agreed that the attributes of the Deity must be
in some respects limited, else there would be no sin
and misery. t
When I lived in the Temple, Mackintosh and
Eichard Sharp used to come to my chambers, and
stay there for hours, talking metaphysics. One day
they were so intent on their "first cause," "spirit,"
and " matter," that they were unconscious of my
having left them, paid a visit, and returned ! I was
a little angry at this, and, to show my indifference
about them, I sat down and wrote letters, without
taking any notice of them.
Mackintosh told me that he had received in his
youth comparatively little instruction, — whatever
learning he possessed he owed to himself. He had a
* See note, p. 183.— Ed.
t I cauuot help remarking, — that men whom the world
regards as far greater "lights" than the three above mentioned
Jiave thought very differently on this subject. — Ed.
198 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
prodigious memory, and could repeat by hea^rt more
of Cicero tlian you would easily believe. His know-
ledge of Greek was slender. I never met a man
Vvdtli a fuller mind than Mackintosh, — such readiness
on all subjects, such a talker !
I once travelled with him on the Continent ; yet,
in spite of his delightful conversation, some how or
other we did not hit it off well. At Lausanne
my sister and I w^ent to see Gibbon's house ; and,
borrowing the last volume of the Decline and Fall,
we read the concluding passages of it on the very
spot where they were written. But such an amuse-
ment was not to Mackmtosh's taste : he meanwhile
■was trotting about, and making inquiries concerning
the salaries of professors, &c., &c. When we were
leaving Geneva, I could not find my sac-cle-nuit, and
was forced to buy a new one. On stepping into the
carriage, I saw there, to my surprise, the lost article,
which Mackintosh had very coolly taken and had
stuffed with recently-purchased books.
Mackintosh often said that Herschel's Discourse
on the Stiuhj of Natural PMlosoi^liy was undoubtedly
the finest thing of its kind since the publication of
Bacon's Novum Organou.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 199
Lord Ellenborough had infinite wit. When the
income-tax was imposed, he said that Lord Kenyon
(who was not very nice in his habits) intended, in con-
sequence of it, to lay down — his pocket-handkerchief.
A lawyer one day pleading before him, and using
several times the expression " my unfortunate client,"
Lord Ellenborough suddenly interrupted him, —
"There, sir, the court is with you."
Lord Ellenborough was once about to go on the
circuit, when Lady E. said that she should like to
accompany him. He replied that he had no objec-
tions, provided she did not encumber the carriage
with bandboxes, which were his utter abhorrence.
They set off. During the first day's journey Lord
Ellenborough, happening to stretch his legs, struck
his feet against something below the seat. He dis-
covered that it was a bandbox. His indignation is
not to be described. Up went the window, and out
went the bandbox. The coachman stopped ; and the
footmen, thinking that the bandbox had tumbled
out of the window by some extraordinary chance,
were going to pick it up, when Lord Ellenborough
furiously called out, " Drive on ! " The bandbox
accordingly was left by a ditch-side. Having reached
200 EECOLLEOTIONS OF THE
the county-town where he was to officiate as judge,
Lord Ellenborough proceeded to array himself for
his appearance in the court-house. " Now," said he,
" Where's my wig — where is my wig ? " " My lord,"
replied his attendant, " it was thrown out of the
carriage- window. ' ' ''■'-
* In very nearly the above woi'ds, I have heard Mr. Rogers
relate (at least a dozen times) the story of Lord E.'s wig. But
according to a writer in The Examiner for Feb. 23d., 1856, "The
true story is, that the lady's maid, spying Lord Ellenborough's
wig-box among the luggage in the hall, bethought herself what a
shame it was that his lordship's fogey wig should be so sub-
stantially and securely lodged, while her mistress's beautiful cap
was entrusted to a fragile bandbox. Whereupon, to redress this
wrong, she took the wig out of its box, substituted Lady Ellen-
borough's cap, and clapped the wig in the bandbox. Passing
over Westminster Bridge, Lord Ellenborough discovered the band-
box, and in spite of the prayers of Lady Ellenborough, ordered the
footman to pitch it into the river. He is now at the assize town ;
the court is filled, and waiting for the presiding judge ; the
Chief-Justice robed, asks for his wig ; the attendant opens the
wig-bos, and, lo ! instead of the wig, there is perched coquettishly
in its place a lace-cap with smart pink ribbons, appearing pertly
to challenge the Chief-Justice, — ' Try me I ' The truth flashes on
Lord Ellenborough ; he had cast his wig on the waters." — As to
which of these may be " the true story," — I suspect that the
quantum of truth in either is nearly equal, both of them being,
apparently, pleasant exaggerations. — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 201
The English highwaymen of former days (indeed,
the race is now extinct) w^ere remarkably well-bred
personages. Thomas Greuville/'' while travelling with
Lord Derby ; and Lord Tankerville, while travelling
with his father ; were attacked by highwaymen : on
both occasions six or seven shots were exchanged
between them and the highwaymen; and when the
parties assailed had expended all their ammunition,
the highw^aymen came up to them, and took their
purses in the politest manner possible.
Foreigners have more romance m their natures
than we English. Fuseli, during his later years,
used to be a very frequent visitor of Lady Guilford,
at Putney Hill. In the grounds belonging to her
villa there was a statue of Flora holding a wreath
of flowers. Fuseli would frequently place in the
wreath a slip of paper, containing some pretty sen-
timent, or some expressions of kindness, intended
for Lady Guilford's daughters ; who would take it
away, and replace it by another of the same kind
* The Right Honourable T. G.— Ed.
202^ RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
When one of these ladies told me this, the tears were
in her eyes.
The three great curses of Ireland are, Absentee-
ism, Middle-men, and the Protestant Establishment.
' A man who attempts to read all the new publica-
tions must often do as a flea does — s/jy;.
Such is the eagerness of the human mind for ex-
citement, — for an event, — that people generally have
a sort of satisfaction in reading the deaths of their
friends m tire newspapers. I don't mean that a man
would not be shocked to read there the death of his
child or of his dearest friend ; but that he feels a
kmd of pleasure in reading that of an acquaintance,
because it gives him something to talk about with
every body on whom he may have to call during the
day.
You remember the passage in King Lear, — a pas-
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 203
sage which Mrs. Sidclons said that she never could
read without shedding tears, —
"Do not laugh at me ,•
For, as I am a man, I think this lady
To be my child Cordelia."*
Something of the same kind happened in my own
family. A gentleman, a near relation of mine, was
on his death-bed, and his intellect much impaired,
when his daughter, wdiom he had not seen for a con-
siderable time, entered the room. He looked at her
with the greatest earnestness, and then exclaimed,
" I think I should know this lady:" but his recog-
nition went no further.
One morning I had a visit from Lancaster, whom
I had never before seen. The moment he entered
the room, he began to inform me of his distresses,
and burst into tears. He was unable, he said, to
carry on his school for want of money, — he owed
some hundi'ed pounds to his landlord, — he had been
to the Chancellor of the Exchequer, who would do
nothing for him, &c., &c. ; and he requested me to
* Act iv. sc. 7. — Ed.
204 RECOLLECTIONS OP THE
go and see his school. I went ; and was so dehghted
with what I saw (the system of monitors, &c.), that
I immediately lent him the sum which he stood in
need of; and he put his title-deeds into my hands.
I never was repaid one farthing of that money ; in-
deed, on finding that Lancaster owed much larger
sums both to William Allen and to Joseph Fox, I
forbore urging my claims, and returned the title-
deeds.*
George Selwyn, as every body knows, delighted
in seeing executions ; he never missed being in at a
death at Tyburn. When Lord Holland (the father of
Charles Fox) was confined to bed by a dangerous
illness, he was informed by his servant that Mr, Sel-
wyn had recently called to inquire for him. " On his
* " I was well acquainted with Lancaster. He once came to
me in great agitation, and complained bitterly that 'they wanted to
put him under the control of a committee, who were to allow him
365Z. a year,' &c., &c. I knew how thoughtless and improvident
he had been, driving about the country with four horses, and doing
many other foolish things ; and I could not take that view of his
case which he wished me to take. This offended him : he burst
into tears, and left the room, declaring that he would never again
come near me. He went to America, and died there in obscurity,
— a man who, if he had only possessed prudence, might have had
statues erected to him." Mr. Maltby (see notice prefixed to Por-
soniana in this volume). — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OP SAMUEL EOGERS. 205
next visit," said Lord Holland, "be sure you let him
in, whether I am alive or a corpse ; for, if I am alive,
I shall have great pleasure in seeing him; and if I am
a corpse, lie will have great 'pleasure in seeiufj me." —
The late Lord Holland told me this.
Payne Knight was seized with an utter loathing
of life, and destroyed himself.* He had complaints
which were very painful, and his nerves were com-
pletely shattered. t Shortly before his death, he
would come to me of an evening, and tell me how-
sick he was of existence. He had recourse to the
strongest prussic acid ; and, I understand, he teas
dead before it touched his lips.
Two of the most enchanting lyrics in our lan-
guage are Colhn's Ode to Evening, and Coleridge'a
Love. The former could not possibly be improved by
the addition of rhyme. The latter is so exqui-
* I have heard this from others as well as from Mr. Rogers.
But Payne Knight was publicly stated to have died of " an apo-
plectic affection ;" nor was there any coroner's inquest on his
body. See also Addenda. — Ed.
f Compare an incidental mention of Payne Knight in Ugo-
Foscolo's Discorso sul Testo, (jr., di Bante, p. 2G. — Ed.
206 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
sitely musical, that I had often repeated it to myself
before I discovered that the first and third lines of
each stanza do not rhyme.
Coleridge was a marvellous talker. One morning,
when Hookham Frere also breakfasted with me,
Coleridge talked for three hours without intermis-
sion about poetry, and so admirably, that I wish
every word he uttered had been written down.
But sometimes his harangues were quite unintel-
ligible, not only to myself, but to others. Words-
worth and I called upon him one forenoon, when he
was in a lodging off Pall Mall. He talked uninter-
ruptedly for about two hours, during which Words-
worth listened to him with profound attention, every
now and then nodding his head as if in assent. On
quitting the lodgmg, I said to Wordsworth, " Well,
for my own part, I could not make head or tail of
Coleridge's oration : pray, did you understand it ? "
"Not one syllable of it," was Wordsworth's re^sly.*
Speaking of composition, Coleridge said most
* Wordsworth once observed to me : " What is somewhere
stated in print, — that I said, 'Coleridge was the only person whose
intellect ever astonished me,' is quite true. His conversation was
even finer in his youth than in his later days ; for, as he advanced
in life, he became a little dreamy and hyper-metaphysical." — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGEllS. 207
beautifully, "What comes from the heart goes to
the heart."
Coleridge spoke and wrote" very disparagingly of
Mackintosh : but Mackintosh, who had not a particle
of envy or jealousy in his nature, did full justice, on
all occasions, to the great powers of Coleridge.
Southey used to say that "the moment anything
assumed the shape of a duty, Coleridge felt himself
incapable of discharging it."
In all his domestic relations Southey was the
most amiable of men ; but he had no general philan-
thropy; he was what you call a cold man. He was
never happy except when reading a book or making
one. Coleridge once said to me, "I can't think of
Southey, without seeing him either mending or using
a pen." I spent some time with him at Lord Lons-
dale's, in company with Wordsworth and others ; and
while the rest of the party were walking about, talk-
ing, and amusing themselves, Southey preferred sit-
ting solus in the library, " How cold he is ! " was
* See, in Coleridaje's Poet. Worlis, ii, 87 (ed. Pickermg), The
Two Round Sjtaccs on tJtc Tomhstonc. — Ed.
208 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
the exclamation of Wordsworth,— himself so joyous
and communicative.
Southey told me that he had read Spenser through
about tliirty times, and that he could not read Pope
through once. He thought meanly of Virgil ; so did
Coleridge ; and so, at one time, did Wordsworth.
When I lately mentioned to Wordsworth an un-
favourable opinion which he had formerly expressed
to me about a passage of Virgil, "Oh," he said, " we
used to talk a great deal of nonsense in those days."
Early in the present century, I set out on a tour
in Scotland, accompanied by my sister ; but an acci-
dent which haj)pened to her prevented us from going
as far as we had intended. During our excursion
we fell in with Wordsworth, Miss Wordsworth, and
Coleridge, who were, at the same time, making a tour
in a vehicle that looked very like a cart. Words-
worth and Coleridge were entirely occupied in talk-
ing about poetry ; and the whole care of looking out
for cottages where they might get refreshment and
pass the night, as well as of seeing their poor horse
fed and littered, devolved upon Miss Wordsworth.
She w^as a most delightful person, — so full of talent.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGERS. 209
SO simple-minded, and so modest ! If I am not mis-
taken, Coleridge proved so impracticable a travelling-
companion, that Wordsworth and his sister were at
last obliged to separate from him.* During that
tour they met with Scott, who repeated to them a
portion of his then unpublished Lay ; which Words-
worth, as might be expected, did not greatly admire. t
I do indeed regret that Wordsworth has printed
only fragments of his sister's Journal ;| it is most ex-
cellent, and ought to have been published entire.
I was walking with Lord Lonsdale on the terrace
at Lowther Castle, when he said, " I wish I could do
* " Coleridge," writes Wordsworth, " was at that time in bad
spirits, and somewhat too much in love with his own dejection ; and!
he departed from us, as is recorded in my sister's journal, soon after
Ave left Loch Lomond." Memoirs of Wordsnorth, i. 207. This
tour took place in 1803.— Ed.
f In my memoranda of Wordsworth's conversation I find this :
'' From Sir Waller Scott's earliest poems, The Ere of St. John, &:c.
I did not suppose that he possessed the power which he afterwards
displayed, especially in his novels. Coleridge's Christahcl no doubt
gave him the idea of writing long ballad-poems: Dr. Stoddart had
a very wicked memory, and repeated various passages of it (then
unpublished) to Scott, Part of the Lay of tlic Last Mlmtrel was-
recited to me by Scott while it was yet in manuscript ; and I did
not expect that it would make much sensation: but I was mistaken,-:
for it went up like a balloon." — Ed.
X A large portion of it has since been printed in the Memoirs of
her brother. — Ed.
14
210 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
something for poor Campbell." My rejoinder was,
' ' I wish you would do something for poor Words-
worth, who is in such straitened circumstances, that
he and liis family deny themselves animal food se-
veral times a week." Lord Lonsdale was the more
inclined to assist Wordsworth, because the Words-
worth family had been hardly used by the preceding
Lord Lonsdale ; and he eventually proved one of his
kindest friends.
What a noble minded person Lord Lonsdale was !
I have received from him, in this room, hundreds of
pounds for the relief of literary men.
I never attempted to write a sonnet, because I do
not see why a man, if he has anything worth saying,
should be tied down to fourteen lines. Wordsw^orth
perhaps appears to most advantage in a sonnet, be-
cause its strict limits prevent him from running into
that w^ordiness to which he is somewhat prone. Don't
imagine from what I have just said, that I mean to
disparage Wordsworth : he deserves all his fame.
There are passages in Wordsworth wiiere I can
trace his obligations to Usher's Clio/''
* Clio, or a Discourse un Taste, — a little volume of no ordinary
merit. — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 211
Hoppuer was a painter of decided genius. Some
of his portraits are equal to any modern portraits ;
and his Venus is certainly fine.
He had an awful temper, — the most spiteful
person I ever knew ! He and I were members of a
club called the Council of Trent (so named from its
consisting of thirty) ; and because, on one occasion,
I was interesting myself about the admission of an
artist whom Hoppner disliked, Hoppner wrote me a
letter full of the bitterest reproach. Yet he had
his good qualities. He had been a singing-boy at
Wmdsor," and consequently was allowed " the run
of the royal kitchen; " but some time after his mar-
riage (and, it was supposed, through the ill offices of
West) that favour was withdrawn ; and in order to
conceal the matter from his wife, who, he knew,
would be greatly vexed at it, Hoppner occasionally,
after secretly pocketing a roll to dine upon, would
go out for the day, and on his return pretend that he
had been dining at Windsor.
He and Gifford were the dearest friends in the
* In consequence of the sweetness of his voice, he was made a
chorister in the Royal Chapel. His mother was one of the German
attendants at the Palace. See A. Cunningham's Lives of British
Painters, v. 242.— Ed.
212 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
\vorld ; and yet they were continually falling out
and abusing each other. One mornnig, Hoppner,.
having had some little domestic quarrel ^Yith Mrs,
Hoppner, exclaimed very vehemently, " Is not a
man to be pitied who has such a wife and such a
friend " (meaning Gifford) ?
His wife and daughter were always grumbling,
because, when he was asked to the Duchess of 's
or to Lord 's, they were not invited also ; and
he once said to them, "I might as well attempt to
take the York waggon with me as you." Indeed,.
society is so constituted in England, that it is useless
for celebrated artists to think of bringing their fami-
lies into the highest circles, where themselves are ad-
mitted only on account of their genius. Their wives
and daughters must be content to remain at home.
Gifford was extremely indignant at an article on
his translation of Juvenal which appeared in The
Critical JRcricw ; and he put forth a very angry
answer to it, — a large quarto pamphlet. I lent my
copy to Byron, and he never returned it. One pas-
sage in that pamphlet is curious, because it describes,.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 213
what Gifford was himself eventually to become, — a
reviewer ; who is compared to a huge toad sitting
under a stone : and besides, the passage is very
picturesque. ["During my apprenticeship, I en-
joyed perhaps as many places as Scrub, though I
suspect they were not altogether so dignified : the
chief of them was that of a planter of cabbages in a
bit of ground which my master held near the town.
It was the decided opinion of Panurge that the life
of a cabbage-planter was the safest and pleasantest
in the world. I found it safe enough, I confess, but
not altogether pleasant ; and therefore took every
opportunity of attending to what I liked better,
which happened to be, watching the actions of in-
sects and reptiles, and, among the rest, of a huge
toad. I never loved toads, but I never molested
them ; for my mother had early bid me remember,
that every living thing had the same Maker as my-
self ; and the words always rang in my ears. This
toad, then, who had taken up his residence under a
hollow stone in a hedge of blind nettles, I used to
watch for hours together. It was a lazy, lumpish
animal, that squatted on its belly, and perked up its
Iiideous head with two glazed eyes, precisely like a
214 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
Critical Eeviewer. In this posture, perfectly satis-
fied with itself, it would remain as if it were a part
of the stone which sheltered it, till the cheerful buz-
zing of some winged insect provoked it to give signs
of life. The dead glare of its eyes then brightened
into a vivid lustre, and it awkwardly shujffled to the
entrance of its cell, and opened its detestable mouth
to snap the passing fly or honey-bee. Since I have
marked the manners of the Critical Eeviewers, these
passages of my youth have often occurred to me."
An Examination of the Strictures of the Critical Ee-
viewers on the Translation of Juvenal by W. Gifford,
Esq., p. 101, third ed. 1804.]
When the Quarterly Bevieiu was first projected,
Gifford sent Hoppner to my house with a message
requesting me to become a contributor to it ; which
I declined.
That odd being, Dr. Monsey (Physician to the
Eoyal Hospital, Chelsea), used to hide his bank-
notes in various holes and corners of his house. One
evening, before going out, he carefully deposited a
bundle of them among the coals in the parlour-grate,
where the fire was ready for hghting. Presently,
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGERS. 215
his housekeeper came into the parlour, with some
of her female friends, to have a comfortable cup of
tea ; and she was in the act of lighting the fire when
the doctor luckily returned, and rescued his notes.
A friend of mine, who had been intimate with Mon-
sey, assured me that this was fact.
Bishop Horsley one day met Monsey in the Park.
"These are dreadful times!" said Horsley: "not
only do deists abound, but, — would you think it,
doctor ? — some people deny that there is a God ! " — •
" I can tell you," replied Monsey, " what is equally
strange, — some people believe that there are three."'"'
Horsley immediately walked away.
An Englishman and a Frenchman having quar-
relled, they were to fight a duel; and that they might
have a better chance of missing one another, they
agreed that it should take place in a room perfectly
dark. The Englishman groped his way to the hearth,
fired up the chimney, and brought down — the French-
man. (Whenever I tell this story in Paris, I make
the Frenchman fire up the chimney).
* To say nothing else of this speech, — it was a very rude one,
as addressed to a bishop. But Monsey was a coarse humorist,
who would hardly be tolerated in the present day. — Ed.
216 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
A certain man of pleasure about London received
a challenge from a young gentleman of his acquaint-
ance ; and they met at the appointed place. Just
before the signal for firing was given, the man of
pleasure rushed up to his antagonist, embraced him,
and vehemently protested that " he could not lift his
arm against his oivii flesh and blood!" The young
gentleman, though he had never heard any imputa-
tion cast upon his mother's character, was so much
staggered, that (as the ingenious man of pleasure had
foreseen) no duel took place.
Humphrey Howarth, the surgeon, was called out,
and made his appearance in the field stark naked, to
the astonishment of the challenger, who asked him
what he meant. " I know," said H., " that if any
part of the clothing is carried into the body by a
gunshot wound, festering ensues ; and therefore I
have met you thus." His antagonist declared, that
fighting with a man iji imris naturalihus would be
quite ridiculous ; and accordingly they parted with-
out further discussion.
Lord Alvanley on returning home, after his duel
with young O'Connel, gave a guinea to the hackney-
coachman who had driven him out and brought him
TACLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 217
back. The man, surprised at the largeness of the
sum, said, "My lord, I only took you to ."
Alvanley interrupted him, " My friend, the guinea is
for hringinrj me back, not for taking me out."
I was on a visit to Lord Bath at Longleat, when
I received a letter from Beckford inviting me to
Fouthill. I went there, and stayed three days. On
arriving at the gate, I was informed that neither
my servant nor my horses could be admitted, but
that Mr. Beckford's attendants and horses should be
at my service. The other visitors at that time were
Smith, who published Vleios in Itahj,-'- and a French
ecclesiastic, a very elegant and accomplished man.
During the day we used to drive about the beautiful
grounds in pony-chaises. In the evening Beckford
would amuse us by reading one of his unpublished
works ; or he would extemporise on the pianoforte,
producing the most novel and charming melodies
(which, by the bye, his daughter, the Duchess of
Hamilton, can do also).
* Select Ylcns in, Italy, with Descriptions, Fr. and English, by
John Smith, 1702-0, 2 vols. 4to.— Ed.
218 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
I was struck rather by the refinement than by
the magnificence of the hospitahty at Fonthill. I
slept in a bedroom which opened into a gallery
where lights were kept burning the whole night.
In that gallery was a picture of St. Antonio, to which
it was said that Beckford would sometimes steal and
pay his devotions.
Beckford read to me the two imprinted episodes
to Vathek ; and they are extremely fine, but very
objectionable on account of their subjects. Indeed,
they show that the mind of the author was to a
certain degree diseased. The one is the story of a
prince and princess, a brother and sister, * *
* * The other is the tale of a prince who is
violently enamoured of a lady ; and w^ho, after pur-
suing her through various countries, at last overtakes
her only to find her a corpse. * * * *
In one of these tales there is an exquisite description
of a voyage down the Nile.
Beckford is the author of two burlesque novels, —
Azemia* and The Elegant Enthusiast. I have a copy
of the former, which he presented to me.
* Azemia: a descrijjtive and sentimental Novel, intevs])ersedmith
^pieces of Poetry. By JacquettaAgneta MarianaJenTts, of Bellcgrove
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 219
He read to me another tale which he had written
— a satirical one. It was in French, and about a man
who was ridiculously fond of dogs, &c., &c. I have
been told that a part of his own life w^as shadowed out
in it. This tale he never printed. In fact, he had no
wish to obtain literary reputation : he despised it.
I have seen Beckford shed tears while talking of
his deceased wife. His eldest daughter (Mrs. Orde*),
Prioryin Wales. BecUcatcdto the Right Honourable Lady Harriet
Marlow. To which are added, Criticisms anticipated, 1797, 2 vols.
— Modern Novel Writing,orthe Elegant Enthusiast; and Interesting
Emotions of Arabella Bloomville. A Rhapsodical Romance; inter-
spersedwlth Poetry. By the Right lion. Lady Harriet Marlo?v,l796,
2 vols. — "Talked of Beckford's two otocZ; novels, 'Agemia' \^Azemia'\
and the ' Elegant Enthusiast,' which he wrote to ridicule the novels
written by his sister, Mrs. Harvey (I think), who read these parodies
on herself quite innocently, and only now and then suspecting that
they were meant to laugh at her, saying, Why, I vow and protest,
here is my grotto, &c., &c. In the 'Elegant Enthusiast' the heroine
writes a song which she sings at a masquerade, and which produces
such an effect, that my Lord Mahogany, in the character of a Mile-
stone, bursts into tears. It is in ^ Agemia^ [Azcmia^ that all the
heroes and heroines are hilled at the conclusion by a stip^Jer of stewed
lampreys." Moore's 3Icmoirs, &c., ii. 197. As to the catastrophe
of Azemia, Moore was misinformed ; that tale has nothing about a
fatal supper of stewed lampreys : there is, however, in the second
volume of The Elega^it Enthusiast a similar incident, "owing to a
copper stew pan in which some celery had been cooked." Both
these novels are much in the style of Beckford's 3Icmoirs of Extra-
ordinary Painters, but greatly inferior to that strange production,
which itself is unworthy of the author of Vatheh. — Ed.
* Wife of Colonel, afterwards General Orde. — Ed.
220 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
who has Lecn loi::g dead, was both in appearance and
disposition a perfect angel. Her dehght was, not to
be admired herseh, but to witness the admiration
which her sister (the Duchess of Hamilton) never
failed to excite.
Beckford was eventually reduced to such straits,
that he was obliged to part with his pictures, one by
one. The last picture which he sold to the National
Gahery was Bellini's portrait of the Doge of Venice.
It was hung up the very day on which Beckford died :
the Duke of Hamilton wrote a letter to me, request-
ing that it might be returned to the family ; but his
application came too late.
When Person dined with me, I used to keep him
within bounds; but I frequently met him at various
houses where he got completely drunk. He would
not scruple to return to the dining-room, after the
company had left it, pour into a tumbler the drops
remaining in the wine-glasses, and drink off the om-
nium gatherum.*
* Mr. Maltby (see notice prefixed to the Porsoniana in this vol.)
who was present when Mr. Rogers told the above anecdote, said
'• I have seen Porson do so." — Ed,
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 221
I once took him to an evening-party at William
Spencer's, where he was introduced to several women
of fashion, Lady Crewe, &c., who were very anxious
to see the great Grecian. How do you suppose he
entertained them? Chiefly by reciting an immense
quantity of old forgotten Vauxhall songs. He was
far from sober, and at last talked so oddly, that they
all retired from him, except Lady Crewe, who boldly
kept her ground. I recollect her saying to him,
" Mr. Porson, that joke you have borrowed from
Joe Miller," and his rather angry reply, " Madam,
it is not in Joe Miller ; you will not find it either in
the preface or in the body of that work, no, nor in
the index." I brought him home as far as Piccadilly,
where, I am sorry to add, I left him sick in the
middle of the street.
When any one told Porson that he intended to
imhlish a book, Porson would say, " Eemember that
two parties must agree on that point, — you and the
reader."
I asked him what time it would take him to
translate The Iliad literally and correctly into Eng-
lish prose. He answered, " At least ten years."
He used to say that something may be pleaded
222 EECOLLECTIOXS OF THE
as a sort of excuse for the wickedness of the worst
characters m Shakespeare. For instance, lago is
tortured by suspicions that Othello has been too
intnnate with his wife ; Kichard the Third, the mur-
derer of children, has been bitterly taunted by one
of the young princes, &c.
" If I had a carriage," said Porson, " and if I
saw a w^ell-dressed person u.i the roc.u, I would al-
ways invite him in, and learn of him what I could,"
Such was his love of knowledge !
He was fond of repeating these lines," and wrote
them out for me ;
" What fools are mankind,
And how strangely inclined,
To come from all places
AVith horses and chaises.,
By day and by dark,
To the falls of Lanark !
For, good people, after all.
What is a water-fall 'i
It comes roaring and grumbling,
And leaping and tumbliug,
And hopping and skipping,
And foaming and dripping ;
* From Garnetf 5 Tour in Scotland, vol. ii. 227. They were
found in an album kept at the iun at Lanark.— Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 223
And struggling and toiling,
And bubbling and boiling ;
And beating and jumping,
And bellowing and thumping.
I have much more to say upon
Both Linn and Bonniton ;
But the trunks are tied on,
And I must be gone."
These lines evidently suggested to Southey his
playful verses on The Cataract of Lodore.
Oh, the exquisite English in many parts of our
version of the Scriptures ! I sometimes think that
the translators, as well as the original writers, must
have been inspired.
Lord Seaforth, who was born deaf and dmnb,
was to dine one day with Lord Melville. Just be-
fore the time of the company's arrival, Lady Melville
sent into the drawing-room a lady of her acquaint-
ance, who could talk with her fingers to dumb peo-
ple, that she might receive Lord Seaforth. Pre-
sently Lord Guilford entered the room ; and the
lady, taking him for Lord Seaforth, began to ply
224 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
her fingers very nimbly : Lord Guilford did the same ;
and they had been carrying on a conversation in this
manner for about ten minutes, when Lady Melville
joined them. Her female friend immediately said,
" Well, I have been talking away to this dumb man."
— "Dumb!" cried Lord Guilford; "bless me, I
thought you were dumb."— I told this story (which
is perfectly true) to Matthews ; and he said that he
could make excellent use of it at one of his evening-
entertainments : but I know not if he ever did.
I can discover from a poet's versification whether
or not he has an ear for music. Shakespeare's, Mil-
ton's, Dryden's, and Gray's prove to me that they
had it ; Pope's that he had it not : — indeed, with
respect to Shakespeare, the passage in Tlie Mer-
chant of Venice'-''- would be enough to settle the
question. To instance poets of the present day ; —
from Bowles's and Moore's versification, I should
* " The man that hath no music in himself,
Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sound:;,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ;
The motions of his spirit are dull as night.
And his affections dark as Erebus :
Let no such man be trusted." Act v. sc. 1. — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 225
know that they had fine ears for music ; from
Southey's, Wordsworth's, and Byron's, that they had
no ears for it.
To any one who has reached a very advanced age,
a walk through the streets of London is hke a walk
in a cemetery. How many houses do I pass, now
inhabited by strangers, in which I used to spend
such happy hours with those who have long been
dead and eone !
A friend of mine in Portland Place has a wife
who inflicts upon him every season two or three im-
mense evening parties. At one of those parties he
was standing in a very forlorn condition, leaning
against the chimney-piece, when a gentleman, coming
up to him, said, " Sir, as neither of us is acquanited
with any of the people here, I think we had best go
home."
One of the books which I never tire reading is
Memoircs sur la vie da Jean Bacine, by his son.
15
226 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
When I was living in the Temple, the chimneys
of one of my neighbours were to be swept. Up went
two boys ; and at the end of an horn' they had not
come down again. Two other boys were then sent
up ; and up they remained also. The master of the
boys was now summoned, who, on his arrival, ex-
claimed, "Oh, the idle little rascals! they are play-
ing at all-fours on the top of the chimney." And,
to be sure, there they were, trumping it away at their
ease. I suppose siKides were their favourite cards.
How little Crowe is known"'' even to persons who
are fond of poetry ! Yet his Lcwesdon Hill is full
of noble passages ; for instance, that about the Hals-
well ;
[" See how the sun, here clouded, afar off
Pours down the golden radiance of his light
Upon the euridged sea ; where the black ship
Sails on the phosphor-seeming waves. So fair
But falsely-flattering, was yon surface calm,
* So very little known, that I give at full length those pas-
sages of his poems which Mr. Rogers particularly admired. —
Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOG^RS. 227
Wlien forth for India sail'd, iu evil time,
That vessel, whose disastrous fate, when told,
Fill'd every breast with horror, and each eye
With piteous tears, so cruel was the loss.
Methinks I see her, as, by the wintry storm
Shatter'd and driven along past yonder isle,
She strove, her latest hope, by strength or art,
To gain the port within it, or at worst
To shun that harbourless and hollow coast
From Portland eastward to the promontory
Where still St. Alban's high- built chapel stands.
But art nor strength avail her— on she drives,
In storm and darkness, to the fatal coast ;
And there 'mong rocks and high o'er-hanging cliffs
Dash'd piteously, with all her precious freight
Was lost, by Neptune's wild and foamy jaws
Swallow'd up quick ! The richliest-laden ship
Of spicy Ternate, or that annual sent
To the Phillipines o'er the southern main
From Acapulco, carrying massy gold,
Were poor to this ; — freighted with hopeful Youth,
And Beauty, and high Courage undismay'd
By mortal terrors, and paternal Love
Strong, and unconquerable even in death —
Alas, they perish'd all, all in one hour ! "]
228 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
The conclusion of the poem is charming :
[" But ill accords my verse with the delights
Of this gay month : — and see, the villagers
Assembling jocund in their best attire,
To grace this genial morn. Now I descend
To join the worldly crowd ; perchance to talk,
To think, to act, as they : then all these thoughts,
That lift th' expanded heart above this spot
To heavenly musing, these shall pass away
(Even as this goodly prospect from my view),
Hidden by near and earthy-rooted cares.
So passeth human life — our better mind
Is as a Sunday's garment, then put on
When we have nought to do ; but at our work
We wear a worse for thrift. Of this enough :
To-morrow for severer thought ; but now
To breakfast, and keep festival to-day."]
Of Crowe's Verses intended to have been s2)okeu
in the TJieatre at Oxford on the Installation of the
Duke of Portland as Chancellor of the University, a
portion is very grand ;
[" If the stroke of war
Fell certain on the guilty head, none else,
TABLE-TALK OP SAMUEL EOGERS. 229
If they that make the cause might taste th' effect,
And drink, themselves, the bitter cup they mix,
Then might the bard (though child of peace) delight
To twine fresh wreaths around the conqueror's brow ;
Or haply strike his high-ton'd harp, to swell
The trumpet's martial sound, and bid them on
Whom justice arms for vengeance : but, alas!
That undistinguishing and deathful storm
Beats heaviest on th' exposed innocent,
And they that stir its fury, while it raves,
Stand at safe distance, send their mandate forth
Unto the mortal ministers that wait
To do their bidding. — Oh, who then regards
The widow's tears, the friendless orphan's cry.
And Famine, and the ghastly train of woes
That follow at the dogged heels of War?
They, in the pomp and pride of victory
Rejoicing, o'er the desolated earth,
As at an altar wet with human blood,
And flaming with the fire of cities burnt,
Sing their mad hymns of triumph ; hymns to God,
O'er the destruction of his gracious works !
Hymns to the Father, o'er his slaughter'd sons ! "]
€rowe was an intimate friend of mine. — When I was
230 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
travelling in Italy, I made two authors my constant
study for versification, — Milton and Crowe.
Most people are ever on the watch to find fault
with their children, and are afraid of jpraising them
for fear of sijoiling them. Now, I am sure that no-
thing has a better effect on children than iwaise. I
had a proof of this in Moore's daughter: he used
always to be saying to her, " What a rjood little
girl ! " and she continued to grow more and more
good, till she became too good for this world and
died.
Did ever poet, dramatist, or novel-writer, devise
a more effective incident than the falling of the rug
in Molly Seagrim's bedroom ?* Can any thing be
more happily ludicrous, when we consider how the
actors in that scene are connected with each other ?
It probably suggested to Sheridan the falling of the
screen in The School for Scandal. i
* See Fielding's Tovi Jones, b. v. ch. 5. — Ed.
t No doubt it did ; as the Jones and Blifil of the same novel
suggested to him Charles and Josei^h Surface. — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 231
Neither Moore nor myself had ever seen Byron
when it was settled that he should dine at my house
to meet Moore; nor was he known by sight to
Campbell, who, happening to call upon me that
morning, consented to join the party. I thought it
best that I alone should be in the drawing-room when
Byron entered it ; and Moore and Campbell ac-
cordingly withdrew. Soon after his arrival, they
returned ; and I introduced them to him severally,
naming them as Adam named the beasts. When we
sat down to dinner, I asked Byron if he would take
soup? "No; he never took soup." — Would he
take some fish? "No; he never took fish." — Pre-
sently I asked if he would eat some mutton? " No;
he never ate mutton." — I then asked if he would
take a glass of wine? " No; he never tasted wine."
— It was now necessary to enquire what he did eat
and drink ; and the answer was, " Nothing but hard
biscuits and soda-water." Unfortunately, neither
hard biscuits nor soda-water were at hand ; and he
dined upon potatoes bruised down on his plate and
drenched with vinegar. — My guests stayed till very
late, discussing the merits of Walter Scott and Joanna
Baillie. — Some days after, meeting Hobhouse, I said
232 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
to him, " How long will Lord Byron persevere in his
present diet?" He replied, "Just as long as you
continue to notice it." — I did not then know, what
I now know to be a fact, — that Byron, after leaving
my house, had gone to a Club in St. James's Street
and eaten a hearty meat-supper.
Byron sent me Childe Harold in the printed
sheets before it was published; and I read it to
my sister. " This," I said, " in spite of all its
beauty, will never please the public : they will dis-
like the querulous repining tone that pervades it,
and the dissolute character of the hero." But I
quickly found that I was mistaken. The genius
wdiich the poem exhibited, the youth, the rank of
the author, his romantic wanderings in Greece, —
these combined to make the world stark mad about
Childe Harold and Byron. I knew two old maids in
Buckinghamshire who used to cry over the passage
about Harold's "laughing dames" that "long had
fed his youthful appetite,"* &c.
After Byron had become the rage, I was fre-
quently amused at the manoeuvres of certain noble
ladies to get acquainted with him by means of me :
* Canto i. st. 11.— Ed.
TA.BLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 233
for instance, I would receive a note from Lady
requesting the pleasure of my company on a parti-
cular evening, with a postscript, " Pray, could you
not contrive to bring Lord Byron with you? " — Once,
at a great party given by Lady Jersey, Mrs. Sheridan
ran up to me and said, " Do, as a favour, try if you
can place Lord Byron beside me at supper."
Byron had prodigious facility of composition.
He was fond of suppers ; and used often to sup at
my house and eat heartily (for he had then given up
the hard biscuit and soda-water diet) : after going
home, he would throw off sixty or eighty verses,
which he would send to press next morning.
He one evening took me to the green-room of
Drury Lane Theatre, where I was much entertained.
When the play began, I went round to the front of
the house, and desired the box-keeper to show me
into Lord Byron's box. I had been there about a
minute, thinking myself quite alone, when suddenly
Byron and Miss Boyce (the actress) emerged from a
dark corner.
In those days at least, Byron had no readiness of
reply in conversation. If you happened to let fall
any observation which offended him, he would say
234 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
nothing at the time ; but the offence would He rank-
Hng in his mind ; and perhaps a fortnight after, he
would suddenly come out with some very cutting
remarks upon you, giving them as his deliberate
opinions, the results of his experience of your cha-
racter.
Several women were in love with Byron, but none
so violently as Lady Caroline Lamb. She absolutely
besieged hnn. He showed me the first letter he re-
ceived from her ; in which she assm^ed him that, if he
was in any want of money, "all her jewels were at
his service." They frequently had quarrels ; and
more than once, on coming home, I have found Lady
C. walking in the garden,-'' and waiting for me, to
beg that I would reconcile them. — When she met
Byron at a party, she would always, if possible, re-
turn home from it in Ids carriage, and accompanied
by him : I recollect particularly their returning to
town together from Holland House. — But such was
the insanity of her passion for Byron, that, sometimes,
when not invited to a party where he was to be, she
would wait for him in the street till it was over !
One night, after a great party at Devonshire House,
* Behind Mr. Eogers's house, in St. James's Place. — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 235
to which Lady Carohne had not been invited, I saw
her, — yes, saw her, — talking to Byron, with half of
her body thrust into the carriage which he had just
entered. In spite of all this absurdity, my firm belief
is that there was nothing criminal between them.
Byron at last was sick of her. When their inti-
macy was at an end, and while she was living in the
country, she burned, very solemnly, on a sort of
funeral pile, transcripts of all the letters which she
had received from Byron, and a copy of a miniature
(his portrait) which he had presented to her ; se-
veral girls from the neighbourhood, whom she had
dressed in white garments, dancing round the pile,
and singing a song which she had written for the oc-
casion, " Burn, fire, burn," &c. — She was mad ; and
her family allowed her to do whatever she chose.
Latterly, I believe, Byron never dined with Lady
B. ; for it was one of his fancies (or affectations) that
"he could not endure to see women eat." I recollect
that he once refused to meet Madame de Stael at
my house at dinner, but came in the evening ; and
when I have asked him to dinner without mentioning
what company I was to have, he would write me a
note to inquire " if I had invited any women."
236 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
Wilkes's daughter may have had a right to burn
her fatlier's jlevwirs ;''' but Moore, I conceive, was
not justified in giving his consent to the burning of
Byron's: when Byron told hirn that he might "do
whatever he pleased with them," Byron certainly
never contemplated their being burned. If Moore
had made me his confidant in the business, I should
have protested warmly against the destruction of the
Memoirs : but he chose Luttrell, probably because he
thought him the more fashionable man ; and Lut-
trell, who cared nothing about the matter, readily
voted that they should be put into the fire. — There
were, I understand, some gross things in that manu-
script ; but I read only a portion of it, and did not
light upon them. I remember that it contained this
anecdote : — on his marriage-night, Byron suddenly
started out of his first sleep : a taper, which burned
in the room, was casting a ruddy glare through the
crimson curtains of the bed : and he could not help
exclamiing, in a voice so loud that he wakened Lady
B., " Good God, I am surely in hell ! "
* " Wilkes said to me, ' I have written my Ilemolrs, aud they
ai'e to be published by Peter Elmsley, after my ascension.^ They
were burnt by his daughter." Mr. Maltby (see notice prefixed to
the Porsoniana in this volume). — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 237
My latest intercourse with Byron was m Italy.
We travelled some time together; and, if there was
any scenery particularly well worth seeing, he gene-
rally contrived that we should pass through it in the
dark.
As we were crossing the Apennines, he told me
that he had left an order in his will that Allegra, the
child who soon after died, his daughter by Miss C,
should never be taught the English language. — You
know that Allegra was buried at Harrow : but pro-
bably you have not heard that the body was sent
over to England in tico packages, that no one might
suspect what it was.
About the same time he said, — being at last
assured that the celebrated critique on his early
poems in The Edinburgh Bevieiu was written by Lord
Brougham, — " If ever I return to England, Brougham
shall hear from me." He added, " That critique cost
me three bottles of claret " (to raise his spirits after
reading it).'''
* Wordsworth was spending an evening at Charles Lamb's,
when he first saw the said critique, which had just appeared.
He read it through, and remarked that "though Byron's verses
were probably poor enough, j-et such an attack was abominable, —
that a young nobleman, who took to poetry, deserved to be en-
couraged, not ridiculed." Perhaps if this had been made known
238 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
One clay, during dinner, at Pisa,* when Shelley
and Trelawney were with us, Byron chose to run
down Shakespeare (for whom he, like Sheridan,
either had, or pretended to have, little admiration).
I said nothing. But Shelley immediately took up
the defence of the great poet, and conducted it in
his usual meek yet resolute manner, unmoved by
to Byron, he would not have spoken of Wordsworth as he has done.
— Many years ago Wordsworth gave me the following account,
which I noted down at the time. " Lord Bj'ron's hatred towards
me originated thus. There was a woman in distressed circum-
stances at Bristol, who wrote a volume of poems, which she wished
to publish and dedicate to me. She had formed an idea that, if
she became a poetess, her fortune would be made. I endeavoured
to dissuade her from indulging such vain expectations, and advised
her to turn her attention to something else. I represented to her
how little chance there was that her poems, though i-eally evincing
a good deal of talent, would make any impression on the public ;
and I observed that, in our day, two persons only (whom I did not
name) had succeeded in making money by their poetrj^, adding
that in the writings of the one (Sir Walter Scott) there was little
poetic feeling, and that in those of the other (Lord Byron) it was
perverted. Mr. Rogers told me that when he was travelling with
Lord Byron in Italy, his lordship confessed that the hatred he bore
me arose from the remark about his poetry which I had made to
that woman, and which some good-natured friend had repeated to
him." — Ed.
* In Moore's Life of Byron no mention is made of Mr. Rogers
having been Byron's guest at Pisa. — In Medwin's Angler in Wales,
i. 25, is an account, — exaggerated perhaps, but doubtless substan-
tially true, — of Byron's ivicJied behaviour to Mr. Rogers at the Casa
Lanf rauchi. — E D.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 239
the rude things with which Byron interrupted him, —
" Oh, that's very well for an atheist,'' &c. (Before
meeting Shelley in Italy, I had seen him only once.
It was at my own house in St. James's Place, where
he called upon me, — introducing himself, — to re-
quest the loan of some money which he wished to
present to Leigh Hunt ; and he offered me a bond
for it. Having numerous claims upon me at that
time, I was obliged to refuse the loan. Both in
appearance and in manners Shelley was the perfect
gentleman.) — That same day, after dinner, I walked
in the garden with Byron. At the window of a
neighbouring house was a young woman holding a
child in her arms. Byron nodded to her with a
smile, and then, turning to me, said, " That child is
mine." In the evening, we (i.e., Byron, Shelley,
Trelawney, and I) rode out from Pisa to a farm (a
23odere) ; and there a pistol was put into my hand
for shooting at a mark (a favourite amusement of
Byron) ; but I declined trying my skill with it. The
farm-keeper's daughter was very pretty, and had her
arms covered with bracelets, the gift of Byron, who
did not fail to let me know that she was one of his
many loves.
240 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
I went with him to see the Campo Santo at Pisa.
It was shown to us by a man who had two handsome
daughters. Byron told me that he had in vain paid
his addresses to the elder daughter, but that he was
on the most intimate terms with the other. Pro-
bably there was not one syllable of truth in all this ;
for he always had the weakness of wishing to be
thought much worse than he really was.
Byron, like Sir Walter Scott,* was without any
feeling for the fine arts. He accompanied me to
the Pitti Palace at Florence ; but soon growing
tired of looking at the pictures, he sat down in a
corner ; and when I called out to him, " What a
noble Andrea del Sarto ! " the only answer I re-
ceived was his muttering a passage from The Vicar
of Wakefield, — " Upon asking how he had been
taught the art of a cognoscento so very suddenly,"
&c.t (When he and Hobhouse were standing be-
* •' During Scott's first visit to Paris, I wallced with him (and
Eichard Sharj)) through the Louvre, and pointed out for his parti-
cular notice the St. Jerome of Domenichino. and some other chefs-
d'oeuvre. Scott merely glanced at them, and passed on, saying,
'I reallyhave not time to examine them.'" Mr. Maltby (see notice
prefixed to the Porsoniana in this volume). — Ed.
•f " Upon asking how he had been taught the art of a cogno-
scento so very suddenly, he assured me that nothing was more easy.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 241
foro the Parthenon, the latter said, " Well, this is
surely very grand." Byron replied, "Very like the
Mansion-House . ")
At this time we generally had a regular quarrel
■ every night ; and he would abuse me through thick
and thin, raking up all the stories he had heard which
he thought most likely to mortify me, — how I had
behaved with great cruelty to Murphy, refusing to
assist him in his distress, &c., &c. But next morn-
ing he would shake me kindly by both hands ; and
we were excellent friends again.
When I parted from him in Italy (never to meet
him more), a good many persons were looking on,
anxious to catch a glimpse of "the famous lord."
Campbell used to say that the lines which first
convinced him that Byron was a true poet were
these ;
" Yet are thy skies as blue, thy crags as wild ;
Sweet are thy groves, and verdant are thy fields,
The whole secret consisted in a strict adherence to two rules ; the
one, always to observe the picture might have been better if the
painter had taken more pains ; and the other, to praise the works
of Pietro Periigino." Chap. xx. Compare Byron's own account
of this visit to the Pitti Palace in his L\fe by Moore, vol. v. 279.
—Ed.
16
242 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
Thine olive ripe as when Minerva smil'd,
And still bis honied wealth Ilymettus yields ;
There the blithe bee his fragrant fortress builds,
The free-born wanderer of thy mountain air ;
Apollo still thy long, long summer gilds,
Still in his beam Mendeli's marbles glare ;
Art, Glory, Freedom fail, but Nature still is fair.
"Where'er we tread, 'tis haunted, holy ground,
No earth of thine is lost in vulgar mould.
But one vast realm of wonder spreads around.
And all the Muse's tales seem truly told,
Till the sense aches with gazing to behold
The scenes our earliest dreams have dwelt upon :
Each hill and dale, each deepening glen and wold
Defies the power which crush'd thy temples gone :
Age shakes Atheuaj's tower, but spares gray Marathon."*
For my own part, I think that this passage is
perhaps the best that Byron ever wrote ;
" To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell,
To slowly trace the forest's shady scene,
"Where things that own not man's dominion dwell.
And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been ;
* Ch'dde Harold, c, ii. st. S7, SS.— Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 243
To climb the trackless mountain all unseen,
AV^ith the wild flock that never needs a fold ;
Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean ;
This is not solitude ; 'tis but to hold
■Converse with Nature's charms, and view her stores un-
roll'd.
But midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men,
To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess.
And roam along, the world's tir'd denizen,
AVith none who bless us, none whom we can bless ;
JNlinions of splendour shrinking from distress !
None that, with kindred consciousness endued,
If we were not, would seem to smile the less,
Of all that flatter'd, foilow'd, sought, and sued ;
This is to be alone ; this, this is solitude."*
The lines in the third canto of Cliildc Harold
about the ball given by the Duchess of Kiclunond
at Brussels, the night before the battle of Waterloo,
&c., are very striking. The Duchess told me that she
had a list of her company, and that, after the battle,
she added " dead " to the names of those who had
fallen, — the number being fearful.
•• Childe Harold, c. ii. st. 25, 26.— Ed.
244 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
Mrs. Barbaulcl once observed to me that she
thought Byron wrote best when he wrote about the
sea or swimminrj.
There is a great deal of incorrect and hasty writing
in Byron's works ; but it is overlooked in this age of
hasty readers. For instance,
"I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs,
A palace and a prison on each Jutnd.''^*
He meant to say, that on one hand was a palace, on
the other a prison. — And what think you of —
" And dashest him again to earth : — there let him ?o?/"?t
Mr. 's house, the , is very splendid ;
it contains a quantity of or-molu. Now, I like to
* CMlde Harold, c. iv. st. 1.— Ed.
f Id. c. iv. St. 180. — A lady resident in Aberdeen told me that
she used to sit in a pew of St. Paul's Cbapel in that town, next to
Mrs. Byron's ; and that one Sunday she observed the poet (then
about seven or eight years old) amusing himself by disturbing his
mother's devotions ; he eA^er}' now and then gently pricked with
a pin the large round arms of Mrs. Byron, which were covered
with white kid gloves. — Professor Stuart, of the Marischal College,
Aberdeen, mentioned to me the following proof of Lord Byron's
fondness for his mother. Georgy, and some other little boys, were
one day allowed, much to their delight, to assist at a gathering of
apples in the Professor's garden, and were rewarded for their labour
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGEES. 245
have a kettle in my bed-room, to heat a httle water
if necessary ; but I can't get a kettle at the ,
though there is a quantity of or-molu. Lady
says, that when she is at the , she is obliged to
have her clothes unpacked three times a day ; for
there are no chests-of-drawers, though there is a
quantity of or-molu.
The letters I receive from people, of both sexes
(people whom I never heard of), asking me for
money, either as a gift or as a loan, are really innu-
merable. Here's one" from a student at Durham,
with some of the fruit. Gcorgy, having received his portion of
apples, immediately disappeared ; and, on his return, after half-au-
hour's absence, to the inquiry where he had been, he replied that he
had been " carrying some apples to his poor dear mother."
At the house of the Eev. W. Harness I remember hearing Moore
remark that he thought the natural bent of Byron's genius was to
satirical and burlesque poetry: on which Mr. Harness related what
follows. When Byron was at Harrow, he, one day, seeing a j'oung
acquaintance at a short distance who was a violent admirer of
Buonaparte, roared out this extemporaneous couplet, —
" Bold Roiert Speer was Booty's bad precursor ;
Boh was a bloody dog, but Bonapai't's a morserU''
Moore immediately wrote the lines down, with the intention of in-
serting them in his Life of Byron, which he was then preparing; but
they do not appear in that work. — Ed.
* I read the letter.— Ed.
246 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
requesting me to lend him 90^. (how modest to stop
short of the hundred !) . I lately had a begging
epistle from a lady, who assured me that she used
formerly to take evening walks with me in the Park :
of course I did not answer it ; and a day or two
after, I had a second letter from her, beginning
" Unkind one ! "
Uvedale Price* once chose to stay so long at
my house, that I began to think he would never go
away; so I one day ingeniously said to him, "You
must not leave me hcforc the end of next wech ; if you
insist on going after that, you may ; but certainly
not before." And at the end of the week he did go.
He was a most elegant letter-writer; and his son
had some intention of collecting and publishing his
correspondence.
Not long before Mrs. Inchbald died, I met her
walking near Charing Cross. She told me that she
had been calling on several old friends, but had seen
* Afterwards a baronet. — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 247
none of them, — some being really not at home, and
others denying themselves to her. " I called," she
said, "on Mrs. Siddons : I knew site was at home;
yet I was not admitted." She was in such low spi-
rits, that she even shed tears. I begged her to turn
with me, and take a quiet dinner at St. James's
Place ; but she refused.
The "excellent writer," whom I quote in my
Notes on Human Life, is Mrs. Inchbald. [" How
often, says an excellent writer, do we err in our
estimate of happiness ! When I hear of a man who
has noble parks, splendid palaces, and every luxury
in life, I always inquire whom he has to love ; and
if I find he has nobody, or does not love those he
has — in the midst of all his grandeur, I pronounce
him a being in deep adversity."] The passage is
from her Nature and Art ;^ and Stewart Eose was
* But Mr. Rogers (as he frequently did when he quoted) has
considerably altered the passage. Mrs. Inchbald's words are : —
" Some persons, I know, estimate happiness by fine houses, gardens
and parks, — others by pictures, horses, money, and various things
wholly remote from their own species : but when I wish to ascer-
tain the real felicity of any rational man, I always inquire n-liom he
lias to love. If I find he has nobody — or does not love those he has
— even in the midst of all his profusion of finery and grandeur, I
pronounce him a being in deep adversity." Vol. ii. 84, ed. 1796.
—Ed.
2-18 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE
SO struck with it, that he wrote to ask me where it
was to be found.
I have heard Crabbe describe his mingled feel-
ings of hope and fear as he stood on London Bridge,
when he first came up to town to try his fortune in
the literary world.
The situation of domestic chaplam in a great
family is generally a miserable one : what slights
and mortifications attend it ! Crabbe had had his
share of such troubles in the Duke of Eutland's
family ; and I well remember that, at a London
evening party, where the old Duchess of Eutland*
was present, he had a violent struggle with his feel-
ings before he could prevail on himself to go up and
pay his respects to her.
Crabbe, after his literary reputation had been
established, was staying for a few days at the Old
Hmnmums ; but he was known to the people in the
coffee-room and to the waiters merely as "a Mr.
Crabbe." One forenoon, when he had gone out, a
gentleman called on him, and, while expressing his
regret at not finding him at home, happened to let
••■ In her youth a very celebrated beauty. She died iu 1831.— Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 249
drop the information that " Mr. Crabbe was the
celebrated poet." The next time that Crabbe en-
tered the coffee room, he was perfectly astonished at
the sensation which he caused ; the company were
all eagerness to look at him, the waiters all ofQcious-
ness to serve him.
Crabbe's early poetry is by far the best, as to
finish. The conclusion of The Library is charmingly
written ;
" Go on, then, son of Vision ! still pursue
Thy airy dreams — the world is dreaming too.
Ambition's lofty views, the pomp of state.
The pride of wealth, the splendours of the great,
Stripp'd of their mask, their cares and troubles known,
Are visions far less happy than thy own :
Go on ! and, while the sons of care complain,
Be wisely gay and innocently vain ;
While serious souls arc by their fears undone.
Blow sportive bladders in the beamy sun,
And call them worlds ! and bid the greatest show
More radiant colours in their worlds below :
Then, as they break, the slaves of care reprove.
And tell them, Such are all the toys they love."
I asked him why he did not compose his later
250 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
verses with equal care. He answered, " Because my
reputation is already made." When he afterwards
told me that he never produced more than forty
verses a day, I said that he had better do as I do, —
stint himself to four.
There is a familiarity in some parts of his Tales
which makes one smile ; yet it is by no means un-
pleasmg ; for example, —
" Letters were sent wlieu franks could be procur'd,
And when they could not, silence was endur'd."*
Crabbe used often to repeat with praise this
couplet from Prior's Solomon,f
" Abra was ready ere I call'd her name.
And though I call'd another, Abra came."
It is somewhere cited by Sir Walter Scott ; | and I
apprehend that Crabbe made it known to him.
Other statesmen, beside Sir Robert Peel, have
had very violent things said against them in the
* TJie Franlt Courtslilj). — Ed.
t B. ii.— Ed.
J Scott quotes it (not quite correctly) in Roh Iloi/, vol. iii. 324.
ed. ] 818.— Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGEES. 251
House. Lord North once complained, in a speech,
of "the brutal language" which Colonel Barre had
used towards him. — General Tarleton, not indeed in
the House, but in private among his own party, said
that " he was glad to sec Fox's legs swelled."
Sir Eobert Peel, in one of his communicative
moods, told me that, when he was a boy, his father
used to say to him, " Bob, you dog, if you are not
prime minister some day, I'll disinherit you." I
mentioned this to Sir Eobert's sister, Mrs. Dawson,
who assured me that she had often heard her father
use those very words.
It is curious how fashion changes pronunciation.
In my youth every body said " Lonnon," not " Lon-
don:" Fox said " Lonnon" to the last: and so did
Crowe. The now fashionable pronounciation of seve-
ral words is to me at least very offensive : " contem-
plate " is bad enough ; but "balcony " makes me sick.
When George Colman brought out his Iron
Chest, he had not the civihty to offer Godwin a box,
252 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
or even to send him an order for admission, though
the play was dramatised from Caleb Williams. Of
this Godwin spoke with great bitterness. — Godwin
was generally reckoned a disagreeable man : but I
must say that / did not consider him such.-''
Ah, the fate of my old acquaintance, Lady Salis-
bury ; The very morning of the day on which the
■ catastrophe occurred, I quitted Hatfield; and I then
shook her by the hand, — that hand which was so soon
to be a cinder. In the evening, after she had been
dressed for dinner, her maid left her to go to tea.
She was then waiting letters ; and it is supposed
that, having stooped down her head, — for she was
very short-sighted, — the flame of the candle caught
her head-dress. Strange enough, but we had all re-
marked the day before, that Lady Salisbury seemed
* One evening at Mr. Eogers'a, when Godwin was present, the
conversation turned on novels and romances. Tlie company hav-
ing agreed that Don Quixote, Tom Jones and Gil Bias, were un-
rivalled in that species of composition, Mr. Eogers said, "Well,
after these, I go to the sofa" (meaning, "J think that the next
best are by Godwin," who happened to be sitting on the sofa).
■Quite unconsciousof thecompliment paid to him, Godwin exclaimed
in great surprise, "What! do j'ou admire The Sofa?'' (a licen-
tious novel by the younger Crebillon), — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGERS. 253
most unusually depressed in spirits ! — Her eyes, as
is generally the case with short-sighted persons,
were so good, that she could read without specta-
cles : being very deaf, she would often read when
in company ; and, as she was a bad sleeper, she
would sometimes read nearly the whole night.
Lady Salisbury never had any pretensions to
beauty. In her youth she was dancing in a country-
dance wdth the Prince of Wales at a ball given by
the Duchess of Devonshire, when the Prince sud-
denly quitted Lady Salisbury, and finished the dance
with the Duchess. This rude behaviour of his
Royal Highness drew forth some lines from Captam
Morris.
[" Ungallant youth ! could royal Edward see,
While Salisbury's Garter decks thy faithless knee,
That thou, false knight ! hadst turn'd thy back, and fled
From such a Salisbury as might wake the dead ;
Quick from thy treacherous breast her badge he'd tear,
And strip the star that beauty planted there."]
Madame de StJiel one day said to me, " How sorry
I am for Campbell ! his poverty so unsettles his
254 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
mind, that he cannot write." I rephecl, " Why does
he not take the situation of a clerk ? he could then
compose verses during his leisure hours." This an-
swer was reckoned very cruel both by Madame de
Stiiel and Mackintosh : but there was really kindness
as w^ell as truth in it. When literature is the sole
business of life, it becomes a drudgery : when we
are able to resort to it only at certain hours, it is a
charming relaxation. In my earlier years I was a
banker's clerk, obliged to be at the desk every day
from ten till five o'clock ; and I never shall forget the
delight with which, on returning home, I used to
read and write during the evening.
There are some of Campbell's lyrics which will
never die. His Fleasures of Hoj^e is no great fa-
vourite with me." The feeling throughout his Ger-
* And it was much less so with Wordsworth, who criticised it
to me nearlj^ rerhatim as follows ; nor could his criticism, I ap-
prehend, be easily refuted. " Campbell's Fleasures of Mope has
been strangely overrated: its fine words and sounding lines please
the generality of readers, who never stop to ask themselves the
meaning of a passage. The lines, —
' Where Andes, giant of the western wave.
With meteor-standard to the winds unfurFd,
Looks from his throne of clouds o'er half the world,'
are sheer nonsense, — nothing more than a poetical indigestion.
What has a iriaut to do with a star? What is a meteor-standard?
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 255
triLcU is very beautiful; and oue line, describing
Gertrude's eyes, is exquisite, — " those eyes,"
" That sccm\l to love zrhate'cr they looJSd upon.''''*
But that poem has passages which are monstrously
incorrect : can any thing be worse in expression
than —
' ' O Love ! iu such a -wilderness as tins,
"Where transport and securitij entwine,
Here is tlic empire of thy perfect hliss.
And here thou art indeed a god divine " ? f
I cannot forgive Goethe for certain things in his
Faust and Willielm Meister : the man who appeals
to the worst part of my nature commits a great
offence.
— but it is useless to inquire what such stuff means. Once, at my
house, Professor Wilson having spoken of those lines with great
admiration, a very sensible and accomplished lady who happened
to be present begged him to explain to her their meaning. He
Avas extremely indignant ; and, taking down the Pleasures of Hope
from a shelf, read the lines aloud, and declared that they were
splendid. 'Well, sir,' said the lad}', ^ hut -what do they oiieanV
Dashing the book on the floor, he exclaimed in his broad Scottish
accent, ' I'll be daumed if I can tell 1 ' " — Ed.
* Part ii. st. 4.— Ed. f Part iii. st. 1.— Ed.
25G EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
The talking openly of their own merits is a " mag-
nanimity " peculiar to foreigners. You remember
the angry surprise which Lamartine expresses at
Lady Hester Stanhope's never having heard of him.
— of him, a person so celebrated over all the world !
Lamartine is a man of genius, but very affected.
Talleyrand (when in London) invited me to meet
him, and placed me beside him at dinner. I asked
him, " Are you acquainted with Beranger?" "No;
he wished to be introduced to me, but I declined it."
— "I would go," said I, "a league to see him."
This was nearly all our conversation : he did not
choose to talk. In short, he was so disagreeable,
that, some days after, both Talleyrand and the
Duchess di Dino apologised to me for his ill-breed-
At present new plays seem hardly to be regarded
as literature ; people may go to see them acted, but
no one thinks of reading them. During the run of
Paul Pry, I happened to be at a dinner-party where
every body was taking about it, — that is, about
Liston's performance of the hero. I asked first one
person, then another, and then another, who was the
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 257
author of it ? Not a man or woman in the company
knew that it was written by Poole !
"When people have had misunderstandings with
each other, and are anxious to be again on good
terms, they ought never to make attempts at recon-
ciliation by means of letters ; tliey should see each
other. Sir Walter Scott quarrelled with Lady Eoslin,
in consequence, I believe, of some expressions he had
used about Fox. "If Scott," said she, "instead of
writing to me on the subject, had onhj paid me a
visit, I must have forgiven him."
There had been for some time a coolness between
Lord Durham and myself ; and I was not a little
annoyed to find that I was to sit next him at one
of the Eoyal Academy dinners : I requested the
stewards to change my place at the table ; but it
was too late to make any alteration. We sat down.
Lord Durham took no notice of me. At last I said
to him, " Will your lordship do me the honour of
drinking a glass of wine with me?" He answered,
" Certainly, on condition that you will come and dine
with me soon."
17
258 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
This is not a bad charade : What is it that causes
a cold, cures a cold, and pays the doctor? A draft.
I hope to read Ariosto through once more before
I die, if not in the original, in Harington's transla-
tion, which in some parts is very well done ; in one
part, — the story of Jocondo, — admirably.
Eose's version is so bald,''= that it wearies me. I
read the v/hole of it, by Eose's desire, in the proof
sheets. — At one time Eose gave himself up so en-
tirely to Italian, that he declared " he felt some diffi-
culty in using his native language."
Once, when Eose complained to me of being un-
happy " from the recollection of having done many
things which he wished he had not done," I com-
forted him by replying, "I know that during your
life you have done many kind and generous things ;
but tlicm you have forgotten, because a man's good
deeds fade away from his memory, while those which
are the reverse keep constantly recurring to it."
* Eose's version of Ariosto is sometimes rather flat ; but surely
it is, on the whole, far superior to any other English one. The
brilliancy and the airy grace of the original are almost beyond the
reach of a translator.— Ed.
TABLE-TALK OP SAMUEL ROGERS. 259
He was in a sad state of mental imbecility shortly
before his death. When people attempted to enter
into conversation with him, he would continue to
ask them two questions, — " When did Sir Walter
Scott die ? " and " How is Lord Holland? " (who was
already dead.) But I, aware that no subject is so
exciting to an author as that of his own writings,
spoke to Eose about his various publications : and,
for a while, he talked of them rationally enough. —
Partcnoi:)CX of Blois is his best work.
Lord Grenville has more than once said to me at
Dropmore, " What a frightful mistake it was to send
such a person as Lord Castlereagh to the Congress of
Vienna ! a man who was so ignorant, that he did not
know the map of Europe ; and who could be won
over to make any concessions by only being asked to
breakfast with the Emperor."
Castlereagh's education has been sadly neglected ;
but he possessed considerable talents, and was very
amiable.
I have read Gilpin's Life of Cranmcr several
260 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
times tliroiigli. What an interesting account he
gives of the manner in which Cranmer passed the
^ay ! — I often repeat a part of Cranmer's prayer at
the stake, — " O blessed Eedeemer, who assmned
not a mortal shape for small offences, who died not
to atone /o?' venial sins,'"'' &c.
I don't call Bohinson Crusoe and Gulliver's
Travels " novels :" they stand quite unrivalled for
invention among all prose fictions.
When I was at Banbury, I happened to observe
in the churchyard several inscriptions to the me-
mory of persons named Gulliver ; and, on my return
home, looking into Gulliver's Travels, I found, to
my surprise, that the said inscriptions are mentioned
there as a confirmation of Mr, Gulliver's statement
that "his family came from Oxfordshire."
I am not sure that I would not rather have writ-
ten Manzoni's Fromessi Sposi than all Scott's novels.
Manzoni's mother was a daughter of the famous
Beccaria ; and I remember seeing her about sixty
* P. 211.— Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGERS. 261
years ago at the house of the father of the Misses
Berry : she was a very hvely agreeable woman.
Bowles, like most other poets, was greatly de-
pressed by the harsh criticisms of the reviewers. I
advised him not to mind them ; and, eventually fol-
lowing my advice, he became a much happier man.
I suggested to him the subject of The Missionanj ;
and he was to dedicate it to me. He, however,
dedicated it to a noble lord, who never, either by
word or letter, acknowledged the dedication.
Bowles's nervous timidity is* the most ridiculous
thing imaginable. Being passionately fond of music,
he came to London expressly to attend the last Com-
* Wordsworth, Mrs. Wordsworth, their daughter, and Bowlesj
went upon the Thames in a boat, one fine summer's day. Though
the water was smooth as glass, Bowles very soon became so al-
armed, that he insisted on being set ashore; upon which Words-
worth said to him, " Your confessing your cowardice is the most
striking instance of valour that I ever met with." This was told
to me by Wordsworth himself. — What follows is from my Memo-
randa of Wordsworth's conversation. " When Bowles's Sonnets
first appeared, — a thin 4to pamphlet, entitled Fourteen Sonnets, —
I bought them in a walk through London with my dear brother,
who was afterwards drowned at sea. I read them as we went
along ; and to the great annoyance of my brother, I stopped in a
niche of London Bridge to finish the pamphlet. Bowles's short
pieces are his best : his long poems are X9X\xqv flaccid^ — Ed.
262 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
memoration of Handel, After going into the Abbey,,
lie observed that the door was closed : immediately
he ran to the doorkeeper, exclaiming, "What! am
I to be sliiit lip here?" and out he went, before he
had heard a single note. I once bought a stall-ticket
for him, that he might accompany me to the Opera ;
but, just as we were stepping into the carriage, he
said, "Dear me, your horses seem uncommonly
frisky;" and he stayed at home.
"I never," said he, "had but one watch; and I
lost it the very first day I wore it." Mrs. Bowles
whispered to me, " And if he got another to-day, he
would lose it as quickly."
Major Price"'' was a great favourite with George
the Third, and ventured to say any thing to him..
They were walking together in the grounds at Wind-
sor Castle, when the following dialogue took place.
"I shall certainly," said the King, "order this tree
to be cut down." "If it is cut down, your majesty
will have destroyed the finest tree about the Castle."
— " People are always contradicting me : I will not be
* Brother to Sir Uvedale Price, and for many years vice-cliam-
berlain to Queen Charlotte. — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 263
contradicted." "Permit mo to observe, that if your
majesty will not allow people to speak, you wall never
hear the truth. "■■= — "Well, Price, I believe you are
right."
When the Duke of Clarence (William the Fourth)
was a very young man, he happened to be dining
at the Equerries' table. Among the company was
Major Price. The Duke told one of his facetious
stories. "Excellent!" said Price; "I wish I could
believe it." — "If you say that again, Price," cried
the Duke, " I'll send this claret at your head." Price
did say it again. Accordingly the claret came, — -
and it was returned. — I had this from Lord St.
Helens, who was one of the party.
Once, when in company with William the Fourth,
I quite forgot that it is against all etiquette to ask a
sovereign about his health ; and, on his saying to
me, "Mr. Rogers, I hope you are well," I replied,
" Very well, I thank your majesty : I trust that your
majesty is quite well also." Never was a Idng in
greater confusion ; he didn't know where to look,
and stammered out, "Yes, — yes, — only a little
rheumatism."
* " Un roi inaccessible aux homines Test aussi Ci la verite,"
Fcnelon, TeUmaque, liv. xxiv. — Ed.
261 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
I have several times breakfasted with the Prin-
cesses at Buckingham House. The Queen (Char-
lotte) always breakfasted with the King: but she
would join us afterwards, and read the newspapers
to us, or converse very agreeably.
Dining one day with the Princess of Wales
(Queen Caroline), I heard her say that on her first
arrival in this country, she could speak only one
w^ord of English. Soon after, I mentioned that cir-
cumstance to a large party ; and a discussion arose
what English word would be most useful for a per-
son to know, supposing that person's knowledge
of the language must be limited to a single word.
The greater number of the company fixed on "Yes."
But Lady Charlotte Lindsay said that she should
prefer "No;" because, though "Yes" never meant
" No," — " No " very often meant " Yes."
The Princess was very good-natured and agree-
able. She once sent to me at four o'clock in the
afternoon, to say that she was coming to sup with
me that night. I returned word, that I should feel
highly honoured by her coming, but that unfortu-
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL KOGERS. 265
nately it was too late to make up a party to meet
her. She came, however, bringing with her Sir
Wihiam Drummond.
One night, after dining with her at Kensington
Palace, I was sitting in the carriage, waiting for Sir
Henry Euglefield to accompany me to town, when a
sentinel, at about twenty yards' distance from me,
was struck dead by a flash of lightning. I never
beheld any thing like that flash : it was a body of
flame, in the centre of which were quivering zigzag
fires, such as artists put into the hand of Jupiter ;
and, after being visible for a moment, it seemed to
explode. I immediately returned to the hall of the
Palace, where I found the servants standing in terror,
with their faces against the wall.
I was to dine on a certain day with the Princess
of "Wales at Kensington, and, thinking that Ward
(Lord Dudley) was to be of the party, I wrote to
him, proposing that we should go together. His
answer was, " Dear Eogers, I am not invited. The
fact is, when I dined there last, I made several rather
free jokes ; and the Princess, taking me perhaps for
a clergyman, has not asked me back again."
One night, at Kensington, I had the Princess for
266 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE
my partner in a country-dance of fourteen couple.
I exerted myself to the utmost ; but not quite to
her satisfaction, for she kept calling out to me,
"Vite, vite! "
She was fond of going to public places incog.
One forenoon, she sent me a note to say that she
wished me to accompany her that evening to the
theatre ; but I had an engagement which I did not
choose to give up, and declined accompanying her.
She took offence at this ; and our intercourse was
broken off till we met in Italy. I was at an inn
about a stage from Milan, when I saw Queen Caro-
line's carriages in the court-yard. I kept myself
quite close, and drew down the blinds of the sitting
room : but the good-natured Queen found out that
I was there, and, coming to my window, knocked on
it with her knuckles. In a moment we were the
best friends possible ; and there, as afterwards in
other parts of Italy, I dined aiid spent the day with
her. Indeed, I once travelled during a whole night
in the same carriage with her and Lady Charlotte
Campbell ; when the shortness of her majesty's legs
not allowing her to rest them on the seat opposite,
she wheeled herself round, and very coolly placed
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGERS. 267
them on the lap of Lady Charlotte, who was sitting
next to her.
I remember Brighton before the Pavilion was
built ; and in those days I have seen the Prince of
Wales drinking tea in a public room of what was
then the chief inn, just as other people did.
At a great party given by Henry Hope in Caven-
dish Square, Lady Jersey* said she had something
particular to tell me ; so, not to be interrupted, we
went into the gallery. As we were walking along
it, we met the Prince of Wales, who, on seeing Lady
Jersey, stopped for a moment, and then, drawing
himself up, marched past her with a look of the
* " The Prince one day said to Colonel Willis, ' I am determined
to break off my intimacy -with Lady Jersey ; and you must deliver
the letter which announces to her my determination.' When Willis
put it into Lady Jersey's hand, she said, before opening it, ' You
have brought me a gilded dagger.' — Willis was on such familiar
terms -with the Prince, that he ventured to give his advice about his
conduct. ' If your royal highness,' he said, 'would only show your-
self at the theatre or in the park, in company with the Princess, two
or three times a year, the public would be quite content, and would
not trouble themselves about yoiu* domestic proceedings.' The
Prince replied, ' Eeally, Willis, with the exception of Lord Moira,
nobody ever presumed to speak to me as you do.' The Prince was
anxious to get rid of Lord Moira ; and hence his lordship's splendid
banishment. — These anecdotes were told to me by Willis."— Mr.
MALTBY(see notice prefixed to the Pww?i/a««in this volume). — Ed.
268 KECOLLECTIONS OF THE
utmost disdain. Lady Jersey returned the look to
the full ; and, as soon as the Prince was gone, said
to me with a smile, "Didn't I do it well?" — I was
taking a drive wath Lady Jersey in her carriage,
when I expressed (with great sincerity) my regret
at being unmarried, saying that "if I had a wife,
I should have somebody to care about me." " Pray,
Mr. Eogers," said Lady J., "how could you be sure
that your wife would not care more about somebody
else than about you ? "
I was staying at Lord Bathurst's, when he had to
communicate to the Prince Eegent the death of the
Princess Charlotte. The circumstances were these.
Lord Bathurst was suddenly roused in the middle of
the night by the arrival of a messenger to inform him
that the Princess was dead. After a short consul-
tation with his family. Lord Bathurst went to the
Duke of York ; and his royal highness having im-
mediately dressed himself, they proceeded together
to Carlton House. On reaching it, they asked to see
Sir Benjamin Bloomfield ; and telling him what had
occurred, they begged him to convey the melancholy
tidings to the Prince Eegent. He firmly refused to
do so. They then begged Sir Benjamin to inform
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 269
the Prince that they requested to see him on a
matter of great importance. A message was brought
back by Sir Benjamin, that the Prince ah'eady knew
all they had to tell him, — viz. that the Princess had
been delivered, and that the child was dead, — and
that he declined seeing them at present. They again,
by means of Sir Benjamin, urged their request ;
and were at last admitted into the Prince's chamber.
He was sitting up in bed ; and, as soon as they en-
tered, he repeated what he had previously said by
message, — that he already knew all they had to tell
him, &c. Lord Bathurst then communicated the
fatal result of the Princess's confinement. On hear-
ing it, the Prince Eegent struck his forehead vio-
lently with both his hands, and fell forward into the
arms of the Duke of York. Among other exclama-
tions which this intelligence drew from him, was,
" Oh, what will become of that poor man (Prince
Leopold) ! " — Yet, only six or seven hours had elapsed,
when he was busily arranging all the pageantry for
his daughter's funeral.
The Duchess of Buckingham told me that, when
George the Fourth slept at Stowe in the state bed-
chamber (which has a good deal of ebony furniture),
270 EE COLLECTIONS OF THE
it was lighted up with a vast number of wax can-
dles, which were kept burning the whole night. —
Nobody, I imagine, except a king, has any liking for
a state bedchamber. I was at Cassiobury with a
large party, when a gentleman arrived, to whom
Lord Essex said, " I must put you into the state
bedroom, as it is the only one unoccupied." The
gentleman, rather than sleep in it, took up his quar-
ters at the inn.
No one had more influence over George the
Fourth than Sir William Knighton. Lawrence (the
painter) told me that he was once dining at the
palace when the King said to Knighton that he w'as
resolved to discharge a particular attendant immedi-
ately. " Sir," replied Knighton, "he is an excellent
servant." — "I am determined to discharge him,"
said the King. " Sir," replied Knighton, " he is an
excellent servant." — " Well, well," said the King,
" let him remain till I think further of it." — Speak-
ing of Knighton to an intimate friend, George the
Fourth remarked, " My obligations to Sir William
Knighton are greater than to any man alive : he has
arranged all my accounts, and brought perfect order
out of chaos."
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGEES. 271
One clay when George the Fourth was talking
about his youthful exploits, he mentioned, with par-
ticular satisfaction, that he had made a body of
troops charge down the Devil's Dyke (near Brigh-
ton). Upon which the DulvO of Wellington merely
observed to him, " Very steep, sir."
I was told by the Duchess-Countess of Suther-
land what Sir Henry Halford had told her, — that,
when George the Fourth was very near his end, he
said to him, " Pray, Sir Henry, keep these women
from me " (alluding to certain ladies).
I'll tell you an anecdote of Napoleon, which I
had from Talleyrand. " Napoleon," said T., " was
at Boulogne with the Army of England, when he re-
ceived intelligence that the Austrians, under Mack,
were at Ulm. ' If it had been mine to place them,'
exclaimed Napoleon, ' I should have placed them
there.' In a moment the army was on the march,
and he at Paris. I attended him to Strasburg. We
were there at the house of the Prefet, and no one
in the room but ourselves, when Napoleon was sud-
denly seized with a fit, foaming at the mouth ; he
272 EBCOLLECTIONS OF THE
cried ' Fermez la porte !' and then lay senseless on
the floor. I bolted the door. Presently, Berthier
knocked. ' On ne pent pas eutrer.' Afterwards,
the Empress knocked ; to whom I addi-essed the
same words. Now, what a situation would mine
have been, if Napoleon had died ! But he recovered
in about [half an hour. Next morning, by daybreak,
he was in his carriage ; and within sixty hours the
Austrian army had capitulated."
I repeated the anecdote to Lucien Buonaparte,*
who listened with great sang froid. " Did you ever
hear this before?" "Never: but many great men
have been subject to fits ; for instance, Julius Caesar.
My brother on another occasion had an attack of the
same kind; but that" (and he smiled) _" was after
being defeated."!
On my asking Talleyrand if Napoleon was really
married to Josephine, he replied, "Pastout-a-fait."
I asked him which was the best portrait of
* Mr. Eogers was very intimate with Lucien, and liked him
much ; yet he could not resist occasionally laughing at some
things in his Charlcmafjne ; for instance, at, —
" L'ange maudit admire et contemple Judas."
c. ix. 37.— Ed.
•|- All allusion to an adventure with an actress. — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 273
Napoleon. He said, " That which represents him
at Mahnaison : it is by Isabey. The marble bust
of Napoleon by Canova, which I gave to A. Baring, is
an excellent likeness."
"Did Napoleon shave himself?" I inquired.
" Yes," answered Talleyrand, " but very slowly, and
conversing during the operation. He used to say that
kings by birth were shaved by others, but that he who
has made himself Boi shaves himself."
To my question — whether the despatch which
Napoleon published on his retreat from Moscow was
written by Napoleon himself, — Talleyrand replied, "By
himself, certainly."
Dr. Lawrence assured me that Burke shortened
his hfe by the frequent use of emetics, — " he was
always tickling his throat with a feather." He com-
plained of an oppression at his chest, which he fancied
emetics would remove.
Malone (than whom no one was more intimate
with Burke) persisted to the last in saying that, if
Junius s Letters were not written by Burke, they
were at least written by some person who had re-
18
27i EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
ceived great assistance from Burke in composing
them ; and he was strongly inchned to fix the au-
thorship of them upon Dyer.* Burke had a great
friendship for Dyer, wliom he considered to be a
man of transcendent abilities ; and it was reported,
that, upon Dyer's death, Burke secured and sup-
pressed all the papers which he had left behind him.
I once dined at Dilly's in company with Wood-
fall, who then declared in the most positive terms
that ha did not know wdio Junius was.
A story appeared in the new'spapers that an un-
known individual had died at Marlborough, and that,
in consequence of his desire expressed just before
his death, the word Junius had been placed over his
grave. Now, Sir James Mackintosh and I, hap-
pening to be at Marlborough, resolved to inquire
into the truth of this story. We accordingly went
into the shop of a bookseller, a respectable-looking
old man with a velvet cap, and asked him what he
* Samuel Dyer. See an account of him in Maloue's Life of
Dry den, p. 181, where he is mentioned as " a man of excellent
taste and profound erudition; wltoscj^rincipal literary ivovh, tinder a
Itoman signature, when the veil with which for near thirty-one
years it has been enveloped shall he removed, will place him in a
high rank among English writers, and transmit a name, now
little known, with distinguished lustre to posterity." — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 275
knew about it. "I have heard," said he, "that a
person was buried here with that inscription on his
grave; but I have not seen it." He then called
out to his daughter, "What do you know about it,
Nan?" "I have heard," replied Nan, "that there
is such a grave ; but I have not seen it." We next
applied to the sexton; and his answer was, "I have
heard oi such Q, grave; but I have not seen it." Nor
did we see it, you may be sure, though we took the
trouble of going into the churchyard.'''
My own impression is, that the Letters of Junius
were written by Sir Philip Francis. In a speech,
which I once heard him deliver, at the Mansion
House, concerning the Partition of Poland, I had
a striking proof that Francis possessed no ordinary
powers of eloquence.
I was one day conversing with Lady Holland in
"■• A friend observed to uie, — " Mr. Ilogers and Sir .James
should have gone, not to Marlborough, but to Hungerford ; and
there they would have found a tomb with this inscription, Stat
nominis uiahra; which is the motto of Junius; and hence the tomb
is called Junius'.^ tomb." I mentioned this to Mr. Rogers, who said,
" It may be so ; but what I told you about our inquiries at Marl-
borough is fact ; and a good story it is." — Ed.
276 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
her dressing-room, when Sir Phihp Francis was an-
nounced. " Now," she said, "I loill ask him if he
is Junius." I was about to withdraw; hut she in-
sisted on my staying. Sir Philip entered, and, soon
after he was seated, she put the question to him.
His answer was, " Madam, do you mean to insuh
me?" — and he went on to say, that when he was a
younger man, people would not have ventured to
charge him with being the author of those Let-
ters."
When Lady Holland wanted to get rid of a fop,
she used to say, " I beg your pardon, — but I wish you
w^ould sit a little further off; there is something on
your handkerchief which I don't quite like."
When any gentleman, to her great annoyance, was
standing with his back close to the chimney-piece,
she would call out, "Have the goodness, sir, to stir
the fire ! "
* The following notice must he referred, I presume, to an
earlier occasion. " Brougham was by when Francis made the
often-quoted answer to Eogers — 'There is a question, Sir Philip
(said R.), which I should much like to ask, if 5'ou will allow me.'
* You had better not, sir (answered Francis); you may have reason
to be sorry for it (or repent of it).' The addition [by the news-
papers] to this story is, that Rogers, on leaving him, muttered
to himself, 'If he is Junius, it must be Junius Brutus" Moore's
Memoirs, &c., vol. vi. G6.— Ed,
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 277
Her delight was to conquer all difficulties that
might oppose her will. Near Tunbridge there is (at
least, there was) a house which no stranger was al-
lowed to see. Lady Holland never ceased till she
got permission to inspect it ; and through it she
marched in triumph, taking a train of people with
her, even her maid.
When she and Lord Holland were at Naples,
Murat and his Queen used to have certain evenings
.appointed for receiving persons of distinction. Lady-
Holland would not go to those royal parties. x\t last
Murat, who was always anxious to conciliate the
English government, gave a concert expressly in
honour of Lady Holland ; and she had the gratifica-
tion of sitting, at that concert, between Murat and
the Queen, when, no doubt, she applied to them her
screw, — that is, she fairly asked them about every
thing which she wished to know. — By the by, Murat
and his Queen were extremely civil to me. The
Queen once talked to me about The Pleasures of
Meynory. I often met Murat when he was on horse-
back, and he would invariably call out to me, rising
in his stirrups, " He bien, Monsieur, etes-vous in-
spire aujourdhui?"
278 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
Lord Holland never ventured to ask any one to
dinner (not even me, whom he had known so long
and so intimately) without previously consulting
Lady H. Shortly before his death, I called at Hol-
land House, and found only Lady H. within. As
I was coming out, I met Lord Holland, who said,
"Well, do you return to dinner?" I answered,
" No ; I have not been invited." — Perhaps this de-
ference to Lady H.* was not to be regretted; for
Lord Holland was so hospitable and good-natured,
that, had he been left to himself, he would have had
a crowd at his table daily.
What a disgusting thing is the fagging at our
great schools ! When Lord Holland was a school-
boy, he was forced, as a fag, to toast bread loitli his
fingers for the breakfast of another boy. Lord H.'s
mother sent him a toasting-fork. His f agger broke
it over his head, and still compelled him to prepare
the toast^ in the old way. In consequence of this
* Lady Holland was not among Mr. Rogers's earliest acquaint-
ances in the great world. — Mr. Richard Sharp once said to him,
" When do you mean to give up tlie society of Lady Jersey?" Mr,
Rogers replied, "When you give up that of Lady Holland," — little
thinking then that she was eventually to be one of his own most
intimate fiiends. — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 270
process his fingers suffered so much that they always
retained a withered appearance.
Lord Holland persisted in saying that pictures
gave him more pain than pleasure. He also hated
music ; yet, in some respects, he had a very good
ear, for he was a capital mimic.
What a pity it is that Luttrell gives up nearly
his whole time to persons of mere fashion ! Every
thing that he has written is very clever.* Are you
acquainted with his epigram on Miss Tree (Mrs.
Bradshaw) ? it is quite a little fairy tale ; —
" On this tree when a nightingale settles and sings,
The tree will return her as good as she brings."
Luttrell is indeed a most pleasant companion.
None of the talkers whom I meet in London society
can slide in a brilliant thing with such readiness as
he does. «.
I was one day not a little surprised at being told
by Moore that, in consequence of the article on his
* See his Letters to Julia and Crocl;fonl House. — Ed.
280 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
Poems in The Edinhurgh Bevieiv,''- he had called out
Jeffrey, who at that time was in London. He asked
me to lend him a pair of pistols : I said, and truly,
that I had none.f Moore then went to William
Spencer to borrow pistols, and to talk to him about
the duel ; and Spencer, who was delighted with this
confidence, did not fail to blab the matter to Lord
Fincastle,j and also, I believe, to some w^omen of
rank. — I was at Spencer's house in the forenoon,
anxious to learn the issue of the duel, when a mes-
senger arrived with the tidings that Moore and
Jeffrey were in custody, and with a request from
Moore that Spencer would bail him. Spencer did
not seem much inclined to do so, remarking that
" he could not w^ell go out, for it was already tivelvc
clock, and he had to be dressed hy four !" So I
went to Bow Street and bailed Moore. § — The ques-
* Vol. viii. 456.— Ed.
•f " William Spencer being the only one of all my friends whom I
thought likely to furnish me with these sine-qua-nons [pistols], I
hastened to confide to him my wants," &c. Moore's Memoirs, &c.
vol. i. 202. But Moore's recollection of the particulars connected
with the duel v,'as somewhat imperfect: see the next note but one.
—Ed.
X Afterwards Lord Dunmore. — Ed.
§ '•Though I had sent for William Spencer, I am not quite sure
that it was he that acted as my bail, or whether it was not Eogers
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 281
tion now was, whether Moore and Jeffrey should still
fight or not. I secretly consulted General Fitz-
patrick, who gave it as his decided opinion that
" Mr. Jeffrey was not called upon to accept a second
challenge," insinuating, of course, that Moore w^as
bound to send one. I took care not to divulge what
the General had said : and the poet and critic were
eventually reconciled by means of Horner and my-
self : they shook hands with each other ni the garden
behind my house.
So heartily has Moore repented of having pub-
lished Little s Poems, that I have seen him shed
tears, — tears of deep contrition, — when we were
talking of them.
Young ladies read his Lalla IlookJi without being
aware (I presume) of the grossness of T/iC Veiled
Prophet. These lines by Mr. Sneyd are amusing
enough ;
" Lalla Rookh
Is a naughty book
By Tommy Moore,
Who has written four,
that so officiated. I am, however, certain that the latter joined us
at the office," &c. Moore's Memoirs, &.c. vol. i. 205. — Ed.
282 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
Eacli wai'mer
Than the former,
So the most recent
Is the least decent." ,
Moore borrowed from me Lord Thm^ow's Poems,
and forthwith wrote that ill-uatiired article on them
in The Edinburgh Bcvictc* It made me angry; for
Lord Thiirlow, with all his eccentricity, was a man
of genius : but the public chose to laugh at him, and
Moore, who always follows the world's opinion, of
course did so too.- — I like Lord Thurlow's verses on
Sidney, t
* Vol. xxiii. 411.— Ed.
f I know not ivJiicJi of Lord Thurlow's pieces on Sidney (for
there are several) was alluded to by Mr. Rogers. One of them is, —
On helwlding tlw 2'ortraitvre of Sir PJiUq) Sidney in the gallery at
Penslmrst ;
" The man that looks, sweet Sidney, in thy face.
Beholding there love's truest majesty,
And the soft imnge of departed grace,
Shall fill his mind with magnanimity :
There may he read uufeign'd humility,
And golden pity, horn of heavenly brood.
Unsullied thoughts of immortalit}'.
And musing virtue, prodigal of blood :
Yes, in this map of what is fair and good,
This glorious index of a heavenly hook,
Kot seldom, as in youthful years he stood,
Divine st Spenser would admiring look ;
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 283
Moore once said to me, "lam much fonder of
reading works in prose than in verse." I rephed,
"I should have known so from your waitings; " and
I meant the words as a compHment : — his best poems
are quite original.
Moore is a very worthy man, but not a little im-
provident. His excellent wife contrives to maintain
the whole family on a guinea a-week ; and he, when
in London, thinks nothing of throwing away that
sum weekly on hackney-coaches and gloves. I said
to him, " You must have made ten thousand pounds
by your musical publications." He replied, " More
than that." In short, he has received for his various
works nearly thirty thousand pounds. When, owing
to the state of his affairs, he found it necessary to
retire for a while, I advised him to make Holyrood
House his refuge : there he could have lived cheaply
and comfortably, with permission to walk about un-
molested every Sunday, when he might have dined
with Walter Scott or Jeffrey. But he ^vould go to
And, framing thence high wit and pure desire,
Imagin'd deeds that set the world on fire." —
Let me add, that Lord Thurlow's sonnet To a hird that lumntedtlw
maters of Lalicn in tlie n-inter was a favourite with Charles Lamb —
Ed.
284 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
Paris; and there he spent about a thousand a-
year.
At the time when Moore was strugghng with his
grief for the loss of his children, he said to me,
" YvQiat a wonderful man that Shakespeare is! how
perfectly I now feel the truth of his words, —
" And if I laugh at any mortal thiug,
'Tis that I may not wee^i " !
I happened to repeat to Mrs. N. what Moore had
said; upon which she observed, "Why, the passage
IS not Shakespeare's, but Byron's." And sure enough
we found it in Don Juan.--' Another lady, who was
present, having declared that she did not understand
it, I said, " I will give you an illustration of it. A
friend of mine was chiding his daughter. She laugh-
ed. ' Now,' continued the father, ' you make mat-
* C. iv. 4. (Moore had forgotten that he had quoted the passage
as Byron's in his Life of Byron). — Richardson had said the same
thing long ago : — " Indeed, it is to tliis deep concern that my levity
is owing : for I struggle and struggle, and try to buffet down my
cruel reflections as they rise ; and when I cannot, I am forced, as I
have often said, to try to make myself laugli, that I may not cry; for
one or other I must do ; and is it not philosophy carried to the
highest pitch, for a man to conquer such tumults of soul as I am
sometimes agitated by, and in the very height of the storm, to be
able to quaver out an horse-laugh? " Clarissa Ilarlowe, Letter 84,
vol. vii. 319.— Ed.
TABLE-TALK OP SAMUEL E0GER3. 285
ters ^vorse by laughing.' She then burst iuto tears,
exclaiming, ' If I do not laugh, I must cry.' "
Moore has now taken to an amusement which is
very well suited to the fifth act of life ; — he plays
cribbage every night with Mrs. Moore.
In the Memoir of Gary by his son, Coleridge is
said to have first become acquainted with Gary's
Dante when he met the translator at Little Hamp-
ton. But that is a mistake. Moore mentioned the
work to me with great admiration ; I mentioned it to
Wordsworth ;'-■' and he to Coleridge, who had never
heard of it till then, and who forthwith read it.
I was present at that lecture by Coleridge, dur-
ing which he spoke of Gary's Dante in high terms
of praise : there were about a hundred and twenty
persons in the room. But I doubt if that did much
towards making it known. It owes some of its cele-
brity to me; for the article on Dante in The Edin-
burgh Bevieio,-f which w^as written by Foscolo, has
* Wordsworth once remarkod to me, " It is a disgrace to the
age that Gary has no church-preferment; I thinlc his translation of
Dante a great national work." — Ed.
t Vol. XX ix. 453.— Ed.
286 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
very considerable additions by Mackintosb, and a
few by myself. Gary was aware (though his bio-
grapher evidently is not) that I had written a por-
tion of that article ; yet he never mentioned it to
me : perhaps there was something in it which he did
not like.
On the resignation of Baber, chief librarian at
the British Museum, I wrote a letter to the Arch-
bishop of Canterbury, urging Gary's claim to fill the
vacant place* The Archbishop replied, that his
only reason for not giving Gary his vote was the un-
fortunate circumstance of Gary's having been more
than once, in consequence of domestic calamities,
afflicted with temporary alienation of mind.i- I had
quite forgotten this ; and I immediately wrote again
to the Archbishop, saying that I now agreed with
him concerning Gary's unfitness for the situation.
I also, as delicately as I could, touched on the
subject to Gary himself, telling him that the place
was not suited for him.
* Gary, as assistant-librarian, stood next in succession. — Ed.
f It appears, however, from the 3/emoh- of Cary by his son
(vol. ii. 285), that afterwards, the Archbishop, in consequence of a
medical certificate of Gary's fitness for the office, was desirous that
he should be appointed. " but could not prevail on his co-trustees
to concur with him."' — Ed.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 287
After auotlier gentleman had been appointed
Baber's successor, the trustees of the Museum re-
commended Gary to the Government for a pension,
— which they seemed resolved not to grant ; and I
made more than one earnest application to them
in his behalf. At last Lord Melbourne sent Lord
E. to me with a message that " there was very little
money to dispose of, but that Gary should have 100^.
per annum." I replied that " it was so small a sum,
that I did not chose to mention the offer to Gary ;
and that, as soon as Sir Eobert Peel came into
office, I should apply to him for a larger sum, with
confident hopes of better success." Lord Mel-
bourne then let me know that Gary should have
2001. a-year ; which I accepted for him.
Gary never forgave me for my conduct in the
Museum business ; and never afterwards called upon
me. But I met him one day in the Park, when he
said (much 4o his credit, considering his decided poli-
tical opinions) that "he w'as better pleased to receive
2001. a-year from Lord Melbourne than double the
sum from Sir Eobert Peel."
288 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
Visiting Lady one day, I made inquiries
about her sister. " She is now staying with me,"
answered Lady , "but she is unwell in conse-
quence of a fright which she got on her way from
Eichmond to London." At that time omnibuses
were great rarities ; and while Miss was coming
to town, the footman, observing an omnibus approach,
and thinking that she might like to see it, suddenly
called in at the carriage window, " Ma'am, the om-
nibus !" Miss , being unacquainted with the
term, and not sure but an omnibus might be a wild
beast escaped from the Zoological Gardens, was
thrown into a dreadful state of agitation by the an-
nouncement.
I think Sheridan Knowles by far the best writer
of plays since those whom we call our old dramatists.
— Macready's performance of Tell (in Knowles's
William Tell) is first-rate. No actor ^ver affected
me more than Macready did in some scenes of that
play.
Words cannot do justice to Theodore Hook's
talent for improvisation : it was perfectly wonderful.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 28t>
He was one day sitting at the pianoforte, singing an
extempore song as fluently as if he had had the
words and music before him, when Moore happened
to look into the room, and Hook instantly intro-
duced a long parenthesis,
" And here's Mr. Moore,
Feeping in at the door," &c. —
The last time I saw Hook was in the lobby of Lord
Canterbury's house after a large evening party there.
He was walkmg up and down, singing with great
gravity, to the astonishment of the footmen, " Shep-
herds, I have lost my hat."
When Erskine was made Lord Chancellor, Lady
Holland never rested till she prevailed on him to
give Sidney Smith a living."- Smith went to thank
him for the appointment. "Oh," said Erskine,
"don't thank me, Mr, Smith. I gave you the living
because Lady Holland insisted on my doing so : and
if she had desired me to give it to the devil, he must
have had it."
* The living of Foston-le-Clay in Yorkshire. — Ed.
19
290 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
At one time, when I gave a dinner, I used to have
candles placed all round the dining-room, and high
up, m order to shovi^ off the pictures. I asked Smith
bow he liked that plan. "Not at ail," he replied;
"above, there is a blaze of light, and below, nothing
but darkness and gnashing of teeth."
He said that was so fond of contradiction,
that he would throw up the window in the middle
of the night, and contradict the watchman who was
calling the hour.
"When his physician advised him to " take a walk
upon an empty stomach," Smith asked, " Upon
whose? "
"Lady Cork," said Smith, "was once so moved
by a charity sermon, that she begged me to lend her
a guinea for her contribution. I did so. She never
repaid me, and spent it on herself."
According to Smith, Mr. 's idea of heaven was
eating i^dtcs dc fois gras to the sound of trumpets.*
" I had a very odd dream last night," said he ;
" I dreamed that there were thirty-nine Muses and
* " He alluded," as his daugliler Lady Holland obligingly in-
forms me, " to an eminent lawyer, who had a passion for jsaie'^ de
fois gras (a passion in which Mr. Smith did not at all share), and
who used to set off to purchase them as soon as the vacation per-
mitted." — Ed,
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS. 291
nine Articles : and my head is still quite confused
about them."*
Smith said, "The Bishop of is so like
Judas, that I now firmly believe in the Apostolical
Succession."
Witty as Smith was, I have seen him at my own
house absolutely overpowered by the superior face-
tiousness of William Bankes.
Speaking to me of Buonaparte, the Duke of
Wellington remarked, that in one respect he was
superior to all the generals who had ever existed.
"Was it," I asked, " in the management and skilful
arrangement of his troops?" — "No," answered the
Duke; "it was in his power of concentrating such
vast masses of men, — a most important point in the
art of war."
" I have found," said the Duke, " that raw troops,
however inferior to the old ones in mancemTing, are
far superior to them in downright hard fighting with
the enemy : at Waterloo, the young ensigns and
* It must not be supposed from tliis and other tuch-like quaint
fancies, in which he occasionally indulged, that Smith's wit had
any mixture of profaneness : — he certainly never intended to treat
sacred things with levity. — En,
292 EECOLLECTIONS OF THE
lieutenants, who had never before seen a battle^
rushed to meet death as if they had been playing at
cricket."
The Duke thinks very highly of Napier's History :
its only fault, he says, is — that Napier is sometimes
apt to con\dnce himself that a thing must be true, be-
cause lie wishes to believe it. — Of Southey's History
he merely said, " I don't think much of it."
Of the Duke's perfect coolness on the most try-
ing occasions. Colonel Gurwood gave me this in-
stance. He was once in great danger of being
drowned at sea. It was bed-time wdien the captain
of the vessel came to him, and said, "It will soon
be all over with us." — "Very well," answered the
Duke, " then I shall not take off my boots."
Some years ago, walking with the Duke in Hyde
Park, I observed, "What a powerful band Lord
John Eussell will have to contend with ! there's Peel,
Lord Stanley, Sir James Graham," &c. The Duke
interrupted me by saying, "Lord John Eussell is a
host in himself." — It is mainly to the noble consist-
ency of his whole career that Lord John owes the
high place which he holds in the estimation of the
people.
TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL EOGERS. 293
The Duke says that the Lord's Prayer alone is
an evidence of the truth of Christianity, — so admir-
ably is that prayer accommodated to all our wants. —
I took the Sacrament with the Duke at Strathfield-
saye; and nothing could be more striking than his
unaffected devotion.
When I was at Paris, I went to Alexis, and de-
sired him to describe to me my house in St. James's
Place. On my word, he astonished me ! He de-
scribed most exactly the peculiarities of the stair-
case, — said that not far from the window in the
drawing-room there was a picture of a man in
armour (the painting by Giorgone), &c. &c.
Colonel Gurwood, shortly before his death, as-
sured me that he was reminded by Alexis of some
circumstances which had happened to him in Spain,
and which he could not conceive how any human
being, except himself, should know.
Still, I cannot believe in clairvoyance, — because
the tiling is imijossihle.
ADDENDA.
ADDENDA.
P. 46. " Her daughters,''' ^-c.
In The Times for February 20th, 1856, I am charged by a
Mr. Hamilton Gray with misrepresenting (or rather with
inventing) this passage. "I had," be says, "the pleasure
of the acquaintance of the late Mr. Rogers, and, as I be-
lieve he was in the habit of speaking truth, I am convinced
that his ' table-talk ' never did comprise such mis-state-
ments as the above After the return of Mr. and
Mrs. Piozzi from the protracted tour which they made
after their marriage on the Continent, Viscountess Keith,
then Miss Thrale, and her sisters were on a footing of
frequent intercourse with Mr. and Mrs. Piozzi. They re-
ceived them at their house, and visited them ; and this
amicable intercourse continued until Mrs. Piozzi's death,
at an advanced age." Now, I most positively assert that
Mr. Rogers used the very words in question ; and I am
much mistaken if several gentlemen who, like myself, were
constant visitors at St. James's Place, would not at once
298 ADDENDA.
confirm my assertion. That bis memory sometimes de-
ceived liini, is not to be denied ; and such, it appears, was
the case when he stated that all intercourse had ceased
between Mrs. Piozzi and her daughters : but I have so
often heard hitn repeat Mrs, Piozzi's declaration that "she
would go down upon her knees to them, if they would only
be reconciled to her," that, in spite of what is stated by
Mr. Hamilton Gray, I believe that Mrs. Piozzi on some
occasion did complain to Mr. Rogers of the alienation of
her family. Let me add, that the present volume contains
throughout such evidence of my anxiety to record the
conversation of ]\Ir. Rogers with correctness, as ought to
have saved me from the impertinence of IMr. Hamilton
Gray.
Since the above was written, Mr. H. Gray's communi-
cation to Tlie Times about Mrs. Piozzi and her daughters
was copied into The Athenxum; where it was no sooner
read by my old friend Mr. J. P. Collier, than he addressed
the following letter to the editor of that journal. "I wrote
it," Mr. Collier tells me, "as an act of justice to you. I
" had no interest in the question. After I had sent it to
'• The Atlteiuvuiit, the editor informed me that he wished
"to postpone my letter to one from Lady Morgan, which
"he thought I ought to see befora mine was printed. I
" replied that Lady Morgan's letter, whatever were its
ADDENDA. 299
" contents, could make no difference in my statement ;
"and I requested the editor to return to me my letter:
"which he did." By the permission of Mr. Collier, it is
inserted here ; and even if it were a less important docu-
ment than it is, I should still feel highly gratified by such
a proof of his kindly feeling towards me.
" To the Editor of tlie Athcnxum.
" This seems to be an age in which even ordinary literary
"courtesy is disregarded : one of the latest instances is the
"letter published in 27/e Athenxum of last week, from Mr.
"J. H. Gray, respecting a statement in Rogers's Tahk-Talk,
"I have known the editor of that volume for many years,
"and although I have seen less of him since he under-
"took to comment upon Shakespeare in opposition to me
" (having an impression of his own in prospect), I can
" bear willing witness that he is utterly incapable of the
"slightest intentional misrepresentation. The error, if any,
"must, I am persuaded, have been on the part of Rogers,
" who, as is well known, did not always take the most
"favourable or good-natured view of any personal matter.
"My reason for now writing is, to confirm, to a certain
"extent, the statement of the editor of Rogers's Tahle-Tallc.
"Some time ago I had occasion to see Mr. Rogers at his
"house several times on a matter of business: he had been
300 ADDENDA.
" well acquainted with my father fifty or sixty years before,
♦' and although there had been that length of separation
"between them, Rogers recognised me as the son of his
" early friend. One day, when I called ia St. James's Place,
" Boswell's Life of Johnson was upon the table, and Kogers
"fell into conversation with me upon it ; and I distinctly
"remember his telling me, among other things, that Mrs.
" ThraWs marriage with Piozzi had jrroduced aii cslrange-
^'"ine.nt hciween her and her daughters. I do not call to mind
" the precise words llogers used ; but if he had employed
"any such strong expression as that coutained in his Table-
" Talk, I should not have forgotten it. Certain I am, that
" he spoke of estrangement, and added, as 1 believe, that the
^'■parties had never been reeoncilcd. As far as this goes,
" therefore, I can corroborate what is said in Rogei's^s Table-
" Talk upon the subject. Moreover, I have heard Mr.
" Wiliam Maltby (who was my father's first cousin, and
" who kept up his acquaintance with llogers until they
"were both about ninety, when Maltby died) say the same
" thing, and perhaps on the same authority.
" I do not suppose that the Editor of Rogers's Table-Talk
" requires, or perhaps will thank me for, my testimony in his
" favour; I have seen him only once since that book was in
" preparation : 1 may, or may not sufficiently estimate Rogers's
" powers as a poet or a proser : I may not see the worth of
ADDENDA. 301
"many of the anecdotes retailed in that book: but I have
" perfect faith in the representation that they all came from
"Rogers, and I am fully aware of the strength and tenacity of
" the memory of the Editor, as well as of his entire and con-
' ' scientious veracity.
" How it happened that my father and Rogers suspended
" their intimacy I know well; but the severance could not have
" taken place until after I was five or six years old, because I
" remember his calling upon us, and my father (who had
"travelled in Spain, and who possessed several letters from
" Rogers written to him in Seville and Madrid) had an early
"copy of The Pleasures of Memory inscribed to him at the
"back of the title-page by Rogers in the neatest of all possible
" hands : it was also altered and corrected by the author in
" several places. This book I have seen since I was grown
"up, so that I can speak positively to the fact. I presume
" that the corrections have been introduced into the more
" modern editions of The Pleasures of Memory.
" J. Payne Collieu."
The letter of Lady JMorgau, to which Mr, Collier alludes,
appeared in The Athenxum for March 1st, 1856. "May I
" presume," it begins, " to add my humble testimony to that
" of a name so respected as Hamilton Gray, denying the
"assertion made in Poyers's Table-Talk, that Mrs. Thrale
S02 ADDENDA.
" (Madame Piozzi) Avas neglected by her daughters, who
" refused to see her, &c."' Lady Morgan then informs the
TDublic that "ia the pahny days of her young life and author-
"ship" she received a dinner-invitation to meet Mrs. Piczzi at
Lord Keith's ; that she '• went, all fluttered and flattered, to
"her distinguished raukn-ous ;''^ and that " ]Mrs. Piozzi was
"durino- the whole evening the object of the most affec-
" tionate attention from her daughter (Lady Keith), and
" of admiring curiosity to the company. Both as guest
"and as mother she ajipeared not a little excited by the
happy position.'' Now, I have conceded tluit Mr. Piogers was
mistaken when he said that her daughters never saw Mrs.
Piozzi after her second marriage ; — the statements of Mr. H.
Gray were enough, without the testimony of Lady Morgan,
to establish that point : but I have there expressed my convic-
tion, which I here again repeat, that Mrs. Piozzi did, when far
advanced in life, complain to Mr. Rogers of the alienation of
htrfamilij, — on which head Mr. H. Gray forbears to touch.
A gentleman, with whom I have not the honour of being
acquainted, the Rev. T. Fuller (Incumbent of St. Peter's,
Pimlico) writes as follows to a mutual friend : " My father
" was present at the dinner mentioned in Lady Morgan's
"letter in The Athcnainm, and I have heard him speak of it
again and agcua as The PiECONCILIATION - Dinner. "Per-
haps you will let Mr. D. kuow this.'' If ]Mrs. Piozzi and
ADDENDA. 303
her daughters had always up to that time lived " in sweetest
harmoDj^," where was the necessity for a reconciUation-dinner?
And wliat can be more likely than that, ichile tlicy ivere yet un-
reconciled, Mrs. riozzi should lament to Mr. llogers her
domestic unhappiness ? Nor is it immaterial to observe
that the dinner in question took place certainly as late as
1808 (perhaps later) ; for Lord Keith did not marry Miss
Thrale till Jan. 10th, 1808 ; at which date Mrs. Piozzi was
well stricken in years. But thougli JNIr. II. Gray carefully
avoids any allusion to family feuds and subsequent recon-
ciliation, Lady Morgan is more communicative. "The
" marriage," she says, " of Mrs. Thrale with Gabriel Piozzi,
" Esq., icas not only distasteful to some members of her family,
•' but particularly so to more than one of the literary aspirants
" who formed her entoiiraye at Streatham," &c, " On the
"return of Mr. and Mrs. Piozzi from a long visit in Italy,
" their youngest daughter, then in her ninth year, accompanied
"• them to Streatham, and shortly after a general family rccon-
^^ ciliation took place, and Streatham once more became the
"Temple of the Muses, though another race of votaries had
"sprung up, and another ^Sam,^ though less redoubtable
" than the first, became an liabitue. of the groves of Clapham,
" where he gathered his early laurels, and pursued at once
' Those best of passions, love and fame ; '
" for ere the young resident co-heiress had attained her
304 ADDENDA.
" fifteenth year, Mr. Rogers had made a formal proposition
" for her hand and— fortune. She answered the propositioQ
"by a portrait worthy of II. B., and was tapped on the
" cheek for her esjuejlcric by the old dramatist Arthur
" Murphy, with the observation that she was a saucy girl : —
'The heart that has truly loved never fo)-gives,
But as truly Jiatts on at the close.' "
As Lady Morgan's style is studiously modelled on that of the
Minerva-press novels, it is sometimes no easy matter to
uuderstauLl her ; but the latter part of what I have just
quoted seems to admit of no other interpretation than that
3Ir. Rogers, liavinrj conceived a hatred at JSIrs. PiozzYs dmtfjhters
hecause one of them had rejected his addresses, fedschj accused
them of heiitg uvforgiviug toivards their mother! Unable to
resist the temptation of treating her readers to a second
" love-passage," Lady Morgan continues : " Some fifty or
" sixty years afterwards the venerable poet pleaded the same
"cause to a young nymph who was not an heiress, and was
" answered through the same pencilled medium from whose
" protographic (photographic) truth there was no appeal."
What! all this brought before the world by that Lady
Morgan who only a few sentences above has "taken the
" opportunity to enter her protest against derogeitory gossip
" ethout distinguished characters living or dead! " — the " young
ADDENDA. 305
nymph," too, being a near relation of her ladyship ! She
ends her excursive epistle thus : " Considering the intimacy
"of Rogers at the mansion of INIr. and Mrs. Piozzi, it is
" extraordinary that uo allusion is made to it (/.e. his
"proposal to one of Mrs. P.'s daughters) in the Table-Talk.'^
By no means extraordinary ; I can assure Lady Morgan that
Mr. Rogers said much concerning various persons, and on
various subjects, which I have thought proper to suppress ;
for instance, among the unpublished portions of his Table-
Talk is a sketchi of herself, nothing inferior, 1 believe, in
" photographic truth " to the " pencilled medium " of the
" young nymph."
Nor is Mr. Hamilton Gray the only person who has
charged me with misreporting the conversation of ilr. Rogers.
In the same No. of The Athenxum which contains Lady
Morgan's letter, a correspondent, under the signature Y.L.Y.,
is pleased to assert that — " The correction of (p. lOi) Beau
"Nash to the lady at Batli, who was so pertinacious in the
" long minuet, should run :
' Mrs. Stone, Mrs. Stone,
"Will you never have done?'
" — the drawl on the false rhyme being the reproof. In the
" well-known East Indian ' Joe ' (p. 13 J:) the Englishman was
" not dining with a Hindoo, but smoking with him, when a
" coup de soldi struck the lady, who made a third in the
20
306 ADDENDA.
" party, and reduced her to ashes ; and the host's order to
" the servant was, ' Sweep away your mistress and bring
" clean 2n"^*f.s /' " Really, the confidence with which Y.L.Y.
(whether lady or gentleman) accuses me of inaccuracy is
almost ludicrous. The question is not what may be the
preferable versions of these trifling stories (which I was
fully aware are related " with a difference"), but whether or
not 1 have given them in the words of Mr. Rogers :— and in
a short note to The Athcnaium for March 8th 185G, 1 have
j)rorcd, on the testimony of a member of Mr. Rogers's family,
— of one who had even more frequent opportunities than
myself of hearing his various anecdotes, — that the story of
Beau Nash and the I»diaii Joe vcre ahvays told hy my vencrahle
friend exactly as they are told hy me.
I cannot conclude without noticing the insinuations which
(in spite of Avhat I said in the preface to this book have)
been thrown out fi'om more than one quarter, that my
memoranda of Mr. Rogers's conversation were liastily made
towards the close of his life, when his memory was greatly
impaired. Nothing can be farther from the truth: — they
were every one of them written down at various times during
a period whicli terminated at least five years before the death
of Mr. Rogers.
A. Dyce.
ADDENDA. 307
*' To the Editor of 'The Table-Talk of the Late Samuel
Rogers.'
" Sir, — With another member of my family, I was in the
" service of the late Mr. Payne Knight at the period of his
" decease (April 29th, 1824) ; and I beg most unequivocally to
"contradict the statement of the late Mr. Samuel Roo'ers,
" that Mr. Payne Knight committed suicide by prussic acid.*
"No such suspicion existed at the time; no such traces were
"found in his room ; and no coroner's inquest was held on
" his body. Respect for the family of Mr. Payne Knight, and
" interest in his surviving relatives (to one of the nearest of
*' whom I commit this statement), induce me to take the
" liberty of addressing you, and intreating you to give
"publicity to the fact that Mr. Payne Knight's death was
"caused by apoplexy, according to the predictions and
"reports of his medical attendants.
" I remain. Sir, your obedient servant,
" John Jackson.
"The Royal Oak Hotel, Leominster, Herefordshire,
" March 15th, 1856."
* See p. 205. — Besides the above declaration, I have received
from a near relative of Mr. P. Knight such a detailed account of
his last hours as ought to remove all doubt that he died of
apoplexy. I think myself bound, however, in justice to Mr.
Eogers, to observe that he was not singular in attributing Mr.
Knight's death to poison ; it is in the remembrance of persons
now living, that the late Mr. Roger Wilbraham, who had been
very intimate with Mr. Knight, used to speak of his suicide as a
fact not to be questioned. — Ed.
PORSONIANA.
PPtEFACE TO PORSONIANA.
The following anecdotes of Torson were communicated
to me, in conversation, at various times, by the late Mr.
William Maltby, — the schoolfellow, and, throughout life,
the most confidential friend of Mr. Rogers.
In his youth Mr. Maltby was entered at Cambridge,
and resided there for some time : he, however, left the
university without taking a degree. He afterwards prac-
tised as a solicitor in London. On the decease of Porson,
he obtained an employment more suited to his tastes and
habits than the profession of the law : — in 1809 he suc-
<;eeded that celebrated man as Principal Librarian to the
London Institution ; and, during the long period of his
holding the office, he greatly improved the library by the
numerous judicious purchases which were made at his sug-
gestion. In 1834 he was superannuated from all duty :
but he still continued to occupy apartments in the Institu-
312 POESONIANA.
tion ; and there he died, towards the close of his nine-
tieth year, January 5th, 1854.
In Greek and Latin Mr. Maltby was what is called a
fair scholar : he was well read in Italian ; his acquaintance
with French and English literature was most extensive and
accurate ; in a knowledge of bibliography be has been
surpassed by few : and the wonder was (as Mr. Eogers
VTsed frequently to observe) that, with all his devotion to
study, and with all his admiration of the makers of books,
he should never have come before the public in the cha-
racter of an author.
A. D.
The following account of Person's life (taken from Cham-
bers's Encyclopoedia, ed. 1880.) may not be considered as
an inappropriate addition to this volume.
" Richard Porson, the greatest Greek scholar England
has ever produced, was born on Christmas, 1759, at East
Ruston, Norfolk, where his father was parish clerk. The
curate of the parish conceiving a liking for the boy, on ac-
count of his omnivorous appetite for books and his mar-
vellous memory, took charge of him, and had him educated
along with his own sons. Porson afterwards found a patron
in Mr. Norris (the founder of the Norrisian professor-
ship at Cambridge), who sent him to Eton in 1774, where
he remained four years, but did not acquire any of the-
POESONIANA. 315
ordinary distinctions, although it is evident that it was
there his mind acquired a fixed bias towards classical studies.
Another patron, Sir George Baker, sent him, in 1778, to
Trinity College, Cambridge, of which be was elected a
scholar in 1780. Next year, he won the Craven Scholar-
ship, and subsequently, the first Chancellor's medal. In
1782 he was chosen a Fellow of Trinity. It was about
this time that he began to give indications of his subtle
sagacity and taste in the difficult verbal criticisms of the
Greek dramatists. For four years he contributed to Maty's
Revieto — his first critique being on Schulz's iEschylus, and
his finest on Brunck's Aristophanes. He also opened a
correspondence with Professor Euhnken. If, however, we
are to judge from a quatrain written at a later period of
his life, he did more than correspond :
' I went to Strasburg, Avhere I got drunk
With that most learned Professor Brunk;
I went to Wortz, and got more drunken
With that more learned Professor Fiuhnkeu.'
" In 1787 appeared in the Gcnlhmaii's Magazine his sarcastic
letters on Hawkins's Life of Johnson. For the same periodical,
he also wrote his far more famous and trenchant Letters to
Travis on the Three Witnesses. The dispute concerned the
genuineness of John i.7, 8, and was occasioned by a blundering
and pretentious defence of the passage by Archdeacon Travis^
314 PORSONIAXA.
against the scornful attack of Gibbon. Porson naturally in-
curred f^reat odium on account of the side which he took in
this controversy. One old lady who had him in her will for a
legacy of £300, cut it down to £30 when she heard that he had
written a book against Christianity. In 1792, he resigned his
fellowship, as he found that he could not conscientiously take
orders for the church. Some of his friends now raised a fund
to preserve him from want, and about £100 a-year was secured.
He was also appointed to the Regius professorship of Greek in
the university of Cambridge— an office, indeed, only worth £40
a-year; yet so splendid was his learning, so admirable his
taste, so vigorous and epigrammatic his style of criticism, that
he might easily have — by the exercise of a moderate degree of
continuous literary labour — succeeded in gaining a handsome
income. But already ' two devils had him in their gripe ' — pro-
crastination and a imaging thirst for drink — and they held him
firm to the end of his melancholy career. The only thing he
ever did in connection with his Greek professorship was to
deliver a prodectio so excellent, that, it has been said, if he had
passed from verbal to aesthetic criticism, he would have sur-
passed all his countrymen in that too. In 1794: he edited the
plays of iEschylus for the Foulis press, Glasgow ; and between
1797 and 1801, four of Euripides, the Hecuha, the Orestes, the
Ph(sniss(£ and the Medea. He also collated the Harleian MS.
of the Odyssey for the Grcnville Homer. In 1806 he was ap-
PORSONIANA. 315
pointed librarian of the ' London Institution ' with a salary
of £200; . . He died of apoplexy, 25th September, 1808,
in the 49th year of his age, and was buried with great pomp
in the chapel of Trinity College, Cambridge. . . . His
critical acumen has never been matched in England. His
tracts, reviews, letters, &c., were collected and edited, with a
biographical notice, by Kidd, in six volumes. . . See the
Eev. J. Selby Watson's Life of Richard Porson, M.A. (1861)."
PORSONIANA.
I FIRST saw Person at the sale of Toiip's library in
1784, and was introduced to him soon after. I was
on the most intimate terms with him for the last
twenty years of his life. In spite of all his faults
and failings, it was impossible not to admire his in-
tegrity and his love of truth.
Person declared that he learned nothing while
a schoolboy at Eton. " Before I went there," he
said, " I could nearly repeat by heart all the books
which we used to read in the school." The only
thing in his Eton com'se which he recollected with
pleasure was — rat-hunting ! he used to talk with
delight of the rat-hunts in the Long Hall.
318 POllSONIANA.
During the earlier part of his career, he accepted
the situation of tutor to a young gentleman in the
Isle of Wight : but he was soon forced to relinquish
that office, in consequence of having been found
drunk in a ditch or a turnip-field.
The two persons to whom Porson had the great-
est obligations were Sir George Baker, and Dr. Ship-
ley, Bishop of St. Asaph. Sir George once ventm-ed
to chide him for his irregularities, — a liberty which
Porson resented, and never forgave,* though he owed
Sir George so much.
Porter was his favourite beverage at breakfast.
One Sunday morning meeting Dr. Goodall (Provost
of Eton), he said, "Where are you going?" "To
church."— " Where is Mrs. Goodall?" "At break-
last." — " Very well ; I'll go and breakfast with her."
Porson accordingly presented himself before Mrs.
Goodall ; and being asked what he chose to take, he
said " porter." It was sent for, pot after pot; and
the sixth pot was just being carried into the house
when Dr. Goodall returned from church.
* This seems to account for the statement in Beloe's Sexage-
narian (i. 234), viz. that Porson " all at once ceased to go to Sir
George Baker's house, and from what motive Sir George always
avowed himself ignorant." — Ed.
POESONIANA. 31&
At one period of his life he was in such strait-
ened circumstances, that he would go without dinner
for a couple of days. However, when a dinner came
in his way, he would eat very heartily (mutton
was his favourite dish), and lay in, as he used to
say, a stock of provision. He has subsisted for three
weeks upon a guinea.
Sometimes, at a later period, when he was able
enough to pay for a dinner, he chose, in a fit of ab-
stinence, to go without one. I have asked him to
stay and dine with me ; and he has replied, " Thank
you, no ; I dined yesterday."
At dinner, and after it, he preferred port to any
other wine. He disliked both tea and coffee.
Person would sit up drinking all night, without
seeming to feel any bad effects from it. Home
Tooke told me that he once asked Porson to dine
with him in Eichmond Buildings ; and, as he knew
that Porson had not been in bed for the three pre-
ceding nights, he expected to get rid of him at a
tolerably early hour. Porson, however, kept Tooke
up the whole night ; and in the morning, the latter,,
in perfect despair, said, " Mr. Porson, I am engaged
to meet a friend at breakfast at a coffee-house in
320 PORSONIANA.
Leicester Square." — "Oh," replied Porson, "I will
go with you:" and he accordingly did so. Soon
after they had reached the coffee-house, Tooke con-
trived to shp out, and running home, ordered his
servant not to let Mr. Porson in, even if he should
attempt to batter down the door. "A man," ob-
served Tooke, "who could sit up four nights succes-
sively might have sat up forty."*
Tooke used to say that "Porson would drink ink
rather than not drink at all." Indeed, he would
drink any thing. He was sitting with a gentleman,
after dinner, in the chambers of a mutual friend, a
Templar, who was then ill and confined to bed. A
servant came into the room, sent thither by his mas-
ter for a bottle of embrocation which was on the
chimney-piece. "I drank it an hour ago," said
Porson.
When Hoppner the painter was residing in a
* In Stephens's Memoirs of Home Toohe, vol. ii. 315. is an ac-
count of Porson's rudeness to Tooke while dining with him one day
at Wimbledon, and of Tooke's silencing and triumphing over him
by making him dead drunk with brandy; on which occasion " some
expressions of a disagreeable nature are said to have occurred at
table." — At that dinner Tooke (as he told Mr. Maltby) asked Poi-
son for a toast ; and I'orson replied, " I will give you — the man who
is in all respects the very reverse of John Home Tooke." — Ed.
PORSONIANA. 321
cottage a few miles from London, Porson, one af-
ternoon, unexpectedly arrived there. Hoppner said
that he could not offer him dinner, as Mrs. H. had
gone to town, and had carried with her the key of
the closet which contained the wine. Porson, how-
ever, declared that he would be content with a
mutton-chop, and beer from the next alehouse ; and
accordingly stayed to dine. During the evening Por-
son said, " I am quite certain that Mrs. Hoppner
keeps some nice bottle, for her private drinking, in
her own bedroom ; so, pray, try if you can lay your
hands on it." His host assured him that Mrs. H.
had no such secret stores ; but Porson insisting that
a search should be made, a bottle was at last dis-
covered in the lady's apartment, to the surprise of
Hoppner, and the joy of Porson, who soon finished
its contents, pronouncing it to be the best gin he had
tasted for a long time. Next day, Hoppner, some-
what out of temper, informed his wife that Porson
had drunk every drop of her concealed dram.
" Drunk every drop of it ! " cried she : " my God, it
was spirits of wine for the lamp ! "
A brother of Bishop Maltby invited Porson and
myself to spend the evening at his house, and secretly
21
322 PORSONTANA.
requested me to take Porson away, if possible, be-
fore the morning hours. Accordingly, at twelve
o'clock I held up my watch to Porson, saying, " I
think it is now full time for us to go home ; " and the
host, of course, not pressing us to remain longer,
away we went. When we got into the street Por-
son's indignation burst forth : " I hate," he said,
" to be turned out of doors like a dog."
At the house of the same gentleman I introduced
Cogan to Porson, saying, " This is Mr. Cogan,* who
is passionately fond of what you have devoted your-
self to, — Greek." Porson replied, " If Mr. Cogan
is passionately fond of Greek, he must be content
to dine on bread and cheese for the remainder of his
life."
Gurney (the Baron) had chambers in Essex
Court, Temple, under Porson's. One night (or
rather, morning) Gurney was awakened by a tre-
mendous thump in the chambers above. Porson
had just come home dead drunk, and had fallen on
the floor. Having extinguished his candle in the
* NottheBath physician andauthor Thomas Cogan, — butEliezar
Cogan, a dissenting clergyman who kept a school at Walthamstow
and published Moschi Ichjllia tria with Latin notes, some Sermons,
&c.— Ed.
PORSONIANA. 323
fall, he presently staggered clown stairs to relight it ;
and Gurney heard him keep dodging and poking
with the candle at the staircase-lamp for about five
minutes, and all the while very lustily cursing the
nature of things.
Porson was fond of smoking, and said that when
smoking began to go out of fashion, learning began
to go out of fashion also.
He was generally ill dressed and dirty. But I
never saw him such a figure as he w^as one day at
Leigh and Sotheby's auction-room : he evidently
had been rolling in the kennel ; and, on enquiry,
I found that he had just come from a party (at
Eobert Heathcote's, I believe), wdth whom he had
been sitting up drinking for two nights.
One forenoon I met Porson in Covent Garden,
dressed in a pea-green coat : he had been married*
that morning, as I afterwards learned from Eaine,
for he himself said nothing about it. He w^as carry-
ing a copy of Lc Iloijeii dc Parvenir, wdiich he had
just purchased off a stall ; and holding it up, he
* " la 1795, E. p. married Mrs. Luuan, who sank under a
decline in 1797." Kidd's, Life of Porso?i, -p. xv. She was sister to
Perry, editor of The Morning Chronicle. — Ed.
324 PORSONIANA.
called out jokingly, " These are the sort of books
to buy?"'
"I Avas occupied two years," said Porson, "in
composing the Letters to Travis : I received thirty
pounds for them from Egerton ; and I am glad to
find that he lost sixteen by the publication." He
once talked of writing an Appendix to that work. —
In his later years he used to regret that he had de-
voted so much time to the study of theology.
Soon after the Letters to Travis w^ere published,
Gibbon wrote a note to Porson, requesting the plea-
sure of his acquaintance. Porson accordingly called
upon the great historian, who received him wdth all
kindness and respect. In the course of conversation
Gibbon said, " Mr. Porson, I feel truly indebted to
you for the Letters to Travis, though I must think
that occasionally, while praising me, you have min-
gled a little acid with the sweet. If ever you should
take the trouble to read my History over again, I
should be much obliged and honoured by any re-
marks on it which might suggest themselves to you."
Porson was highly flattered by Gibbon's having re-
quested this interview, and loved to talk of it. He
thought the Decline and Fall beyond all compari-
POESONIANA. 325
son the greatest literary production of the eighteenth
century, and was in the habit of repeating long pas-
sages from it. Yet I have heard him say that
" there could not be a better exercise for a school-
boy than to turn a page of it into Englisli."
When the Letters to Travis first appeared, Eennell
said to me, "It's just such a book as the devil would
write, if he could hold a pen."
As soon as Gibbon's Autobiography and Miscel-
laneous Works came out, they were eagerly devoured
both by Person and myself. Neither of us could
afford to purchase the quarto edition ; so we bought
the Dublin reprint in octavo.
There was no cordiality between Person and
Jacob Bryant, for they thought very differently not
only on the subject of Troy, but on inost other sub-
jects. Bryant used to abuse Person behind his back ;
and one day, when he was violently attacking his
character, the Bishop of Salisbury, Dr. Douglas,
said to him, " Mr. Bryant, you are speaking of a
great man; and you should remember, sir, that
€ven the greatest men are not without their fail-
ings." Cleaver Banks, who was present on that oc-
casion, remarked to me, " I shall always think well
326 PORSONIANA.
of the Bishop for his generous defence of our
friend."
Person was sometimes very rude in society. My
relation, Dr. Maltby (Bishop of Durham), once invited
him to meet Paley at dinner."'' Paley arrived first.
When Porson (who had never before seen him) came
into the room, he seated himself in an arm-chair, and
looking very hard at Paley, said, "I am entitled to
this chair, being president of a society for the dis-
covery of truth, of which I happen at present to be
the only member." These words were levelled at
certain ijolitical opinions broached in Paley's works.
I have often wondered that Porson did not get
into scrapes in those days, when it was so dangerous
to express violent political feelings : he would think
* '•' One of this learned party, to the benefit of societj' and the
delight of his friends, still survives ; and we learn from the
venerable Bishop of Durham, that the meeting took place at the
house of the late Dr. Davy, master of Caius College, Cambridge.
— Paley was very anxious to see a man so extraordinary as Porson,
and Dr. Maltby obtained i^ermission from his friend Dr. Davy (to
whom he was then on a visit) to invite them both to his lod^e.
' It was in some respects a curious meeting,' says the Bishop ;
' but it did not give occasion to so much conversation between
two men very eminent in different ways as I anticipated and
wished.' " Eemarks on the present volume by Mr. Carruthers,
in The Inverness Courier, for February 21, 1856. — Ed.
POKSONIANA. 327
nothing of toasting "Jack Cade" at a tavern, when
he was half-seas-over.
One day after dinner, at Clayton Jennings's house,
Captain Ash, who was always ready to warble, burst
out, as usual, with a song. Now, Person hated sing-
ing after dinner; and, while Ash was in the middle
of his song, an ass happening to bray in the street,
Porson interrupted the Captain with " Sir, you have
a rival."
He used frequently to regret that he had not gone
to America in his youth and settled there. I said,
"What would you have done without books?" He
answered, " I should have done without them."
At one time he had some thoughts of taking orders,
and studied divinity for a year or two. "But,"
said he, " I found that I should require about fifty
years' reading to make myself thoroughly acquainted
with it, — to satisfy my mind on all points ; and there-
fore I gave it up. There are fellows who go into a
pulpit, assuming every thing, and knowing nothing :
but I would not do so."
He said that every man ought to marry once. I
observed that every man could not afford to maintain
a family. " Oh," replied he, " pap is cheap."
328 PORSONIANA.
He insisted that all men are born with abilities
nearly equal. "Any one," he would say, "might
become quite as good a critic as I am, if he would
only take the trouble to make himself so. I have
made myself what I am by intense labour : some-
times, in order to impress a thing upon my memory,
I have read it a dozen times, and transcribed it
six."*
He once had occasion to travel to Norwich.
When the coach arrived there, he was beset by se-
veral porters, one offering to carry his portmanteau
to his lodging for eighteen-pence, another for a
shilling, another for ninepence : upon which, Porson
shouldered the portmanteau, and marching off with it,
said very gravely to the porters, " Gentlemen, I leave
you to settle this dispute among yourselves." —
When, however, he went to stay with a friend for
only a couple of days or so, he did not encumber
* But lie was certainly gifted by nature with most extraordinary
powers of memory. Dr. Downie, of Aberdeen, told me that, during
a visit to London, lie heard Porson declare that he could repeat
Smollett's liodcrick Bandom from beginning to end : — and Mr.
Eichard Heber assured me that soon after the appearance of the
Essay on Irish Bulls (the joint production of Edgeworth and his
daughter), Person used, when somewhat tipsj^, to recite Qvliole
%iagcs of it verbatim with great delight. — Ed.
POESONIAXA. 329
himself with a portmanteau : he \YOuld merely take
a shirt in his pocket, saying, " Omnia vica mecum
jporto."
The time he wasted in writing notes on the mar-
gins of books,— I mean, in writing them with such
beauty of penmanship that they rivalled print, — was
truly lamentable.* And yet he used those very
books most cruelly, whether they w^ere his own, or
belonging to others ; he would let them lie about his
room, covered with dust and all sorts of dirt. — He
said that " he possessed more bad copies of good books
than any private gentleman in England."
"When he lived in Essex Court, Temple, he would
shut himself up for three or four days together, ad-
mitting no \'isitors to his chambers. One morning
I went to call upon him there ; and having inquired
at his barber's close by " if Mr. Porson was at home,"
was answered "Yes, but he has seen no one for
* Such was bis rage for caligraphy, that he once offered to letter
the hachs of some of Mr. Eichard Heber's vellum-bound classics,
" No," said Heber, " I Avon't let you do that : but I shall be most
thankful if you will write into an Athenteus some of those excellent
emendations which I have heard from you in conversation."' Heber
accordingly sent to him Brunck's interleaved copy of that author
(Casaubon's edition) ; which Forson enriched with many notes.
These notes were afterwards published in his Adversaria. The
Athenasus is now in my possession. — Ed.
830 PORSONIANA.
two days." I, however, proceeded to his chambers,
and knocked at the door more than once. He
would not open it, and I came down stairs. As I
was re-crossing the com't, Porson, w^ho had perceived
that I was the visitor, opened the window, and stopped
me. He was then busy about the Grenville Homer,
for which he collated the Harleian Ms. of the Odys-
sey. His labours on that work were rewarded with
50^. and a large-paper copy. I thought the payment
too small, but Burney considered it as sufficient.
I told him one day that the examiners for the
Cambridge University scholarship had just been
greatly puzzled to find out which of the candidates
was the best scholar. "Indeed!" said Porson: "I
wish I had been there ; I would have put a ques-
tion or two which would have quickly settled the
point."
Postlethwaite" ha\ang come to London to attend
the Westminster Examination, Porson called upon
him, when the following dialogue (which I WTote
down from Person's dictation) took place between
them. — Porson. "I am come, sir, to inform you that
my fellowship will become vacant in a few weeks, in
* Master of Trinity College, Cambridge. — Ed.
PORSONIANA. 331
order that you may appoint my successor." Postle.
"But, Mr. Porson, you do not mean to leave us?" —
Porson. "It is not I who leave you, but you who
dismiss me. You have done me every injury in your
power. But I am not come to complain or expos-
tulate." Postle. "I did not know, Mr. Porson, you
were so resolved." — Porson. " You could not con-
ceive, sir, that I should have applied for a lay-fellow-
ship to the detriment of some more scrupulous man,
if it had been my intention to take orders."
In 1792, Postlethwaite wTote a letter to Porson
informing him that the Greek Professorship at Cam-
bridge had fallen vacant. Here is an exact copy of
Porson's answer :*
" SiK, — When I first received the favour of your
letter, I must own that I felt rather vexation and
chagrin than hope and satisfaction. I had looked
upon myself so completely in the light of an outcast
from Alma Mater, that I had made up my mind to
have no farther connexion with the place. The
prospect you held out to me gave me more uneasi-
* This letter has been ah-cady printed ; but in publications that
are very little known. — Ed.
•332 PORSONIANA.
ness than pleasure. When I was younger than I now
am, and my disposition more sanguine than it is at
present, I was in daily expectation of Mr. Cooke's
resignation, and I flattered myself with the hope of
succeeding to the honour he was going to quit. As
hope and ambition are great castle-builders, I had laid
a scheme, partly, as I was willing to think, for the
joint credit, partly for the mutual advantage, of
myself and the University. I had projected a plan
of reading lectures, and I persuaded myself that I
should easily obtain a grace permitting me to exact
a certain sum from every person w^ho attended. But
seven years' waiting will tire out the most patient
temper; and all my ambition of this sort was long
ago laid asleep. The sudden news of the vacant
professorship put me in mind of poor Jacob, who,
having served seven years in hopes of being rewarded
with Eachel, awoke, and behold it was Leah !
" Such, sir, I confess, were the first ideas that
took possession of my mind. But after a little re-
flection, I resolved to refer a matter of this import-
ance to my friends. This circumstance has caused
the delay, for w^hich I ought before now to have
apologised. My friends unanimously exhorted me to
POESONIANA. 33?
embrace the good fortune \Yhich they conceived to be
within my grasp. Their advice, therefore, joined to
the expectation I had entertained of doing some small
good by my exertions in the employment, together
with the pardonable vanity which the honour an-
nexed to the office inspired, determined me : and I
was on the point of troubling you, sir, and the other
electors with notice of my intentions to profess my-
self a candidate, when an objection, which had
escaped me in the hurry of my thoughts, now oc-
curred to my recollection.
" The same reason which hindered me from keep-
ing my fellowship by the method you obligingly
pointed out to me, would, I am greatly afraid, pre-
vent me from being Greek Professor. Whatever con-
cern this may give me for myself, it gives me none
for the public. I trust there are at least twenty
or thirty in the University equally able and willing
to undertake the office ; possessed, many, of talents
superior to mine, and all of a more complying con-
science. This I speak upon the supposition that the
next Greek Professor will be compelled to read lec-
tures : but if the place remains a sinecure, the num-
ber of qualified persons will be greatly increased.
534 PORSONIANA.
And though it were even granted, that my industry
and attention might possibly produce some benefit to
the interests of learning and the credit of the Uni-
versity, that trifling gain would be as much ex-
ceeded by keeping the Professorship a sinecure, and
bestowing it on a sound believer, as temporal con-
siderations are outweighed by spiritual. Having
only a strong persuasion, not an absolute certainty,
that such a subscription is required of the Professor
elect, — if I am mistaken, I hereby offer myself as a
candidate ; but if I am right in my opinion, I shall
beg of you to order my name to be erased from the
boards, and I shall esteem it a favour conferred on,
sir,
" Your obliged humble servant,
" E. POKSON.
"Essex Court Temple, Cth October, 1792."
When he w^as first elected Greek Professor," he
assured me that he intended to give public lectures
in that capacity. I afterwards asked him why he
* In 1793, by an unanimous vote of the seven electors. — Ac-
cording to the printed accounts of Porson, he was prevented from
giving lectures by the want of rooms for that purpose. — Ed.
PORSONIANA. 335
had not given them. He rephed, " Because I have
thought better on it : whatever originality my lec-
tures might have had, people would have cried out,
We kncio all this hcfore."
I was with him one day when he bought Dra-
kenborch's Livy : and I said, "Do you mean to
read through all the notes in these seven quarto
volumes?" "I buy it at least," he answered, "in
the hope of doing so some time or other : there is
no doubt a deal of valuable information to be found
in the notes ; and I shall endeavour to collect that
information. Indeed, I should like to publish a
volume of the curious things which I have gathered
in the course of my studies ; but people would only
say of it, We kneiu all this hcfore."
Porson had no very high opinion of Parr, and
could not endure his metaphysics. One evening,
Parr was beginning a regular harangue on the ori-
gin of evil, when Porson ^stopped him short by ask-
ing " what was the use of it ? " — Porson, who shrunk
on all occasions from praise of himself, was only
annoyed by the eulogies which Parr lavished upon
him in print. When Parr published the Bemarks
on Combe's Statement, in which Porson is termed
336 PORSONIANA.
" a giant in literature,"* &c., Person said, " How
should Dr. Parr be able to take the measure of a
giant? "
Parr was evidently afraid of Porson, — of his
intellectual powers. I might say too that Home
Tooke had a dread of Porson ; but it was only the
dread of being insulted by some rude speech from
Porson in his drunkenness. Porson thought highly
both of Tooke's natural endowments and of his ac-
quirements. " I have learned many valuable things
from Tooke," was what he frequently said; "yet
I don't always believe Tooke's assertions," was some-
times his remark. — (I knew Parr intimately. I once
dined at Dilly's with Parr, Priestley, Cumberland,
and some other distinguished people. Cumberland,
who belonged to the family of the Blandishes, be-
praised Priestley to his face, and after he had left
the party, spoke of him very disparagingly. This
excited Parr's extremest wrath. When I met him
a few days after, he said, " Only think of Mr. Cum-
berland! that he should have presumed to talk he-
* " But Mr. Porson, the re-publisher of Heyue's Virgil, is a
giant in literature, a prodigy in intellect, a critic, whose mighty
achievements leave imitation panting at a distance behind them,
and whose stupendous powers strike down all the restless and
aspiring suggestions of rivalry into silent admiration and passive
awe." p. 13. This tract is not reprinted entire in the ed. of Parr's
Worhs.—Ev).
PORSONIANA. 337
fore mc, — hcfore me, sir, — in such terms of my friend
Dr. Priestley ! Pray, sir, let Mr. Dilly know my
opinion of Mr. Cumberland, — that his ignorance is
equalled only by his impertinence, and that both
are exceeded by his malice." Parr hated Dr. Hors-
ley to such a degree that he never mentioned him
by any other name than the fiend. — Parr once said
to Barker, "You have read a great deal, you have
thought very little, and you know nothing.")
One day Porson went down to Greenwich to bor-
row a book from Burney ; and finding that Burney
was out, he stepped into his library, pocketed the
volume, and set off again for London. Soon after,
Burney came home ; and, offended at the liberty
Porson had taken, pursued him in a chaise, and re-
covered the book. Porson talked to me of this af-
fair with some bitterness; "Did Burney suppose,"
he said, " that I meant to play his old tricks?" (al-
luding to a well-known circumstance in the earlier
part of Burney's history).
I believe, with you, that Burney was indebted
to Porson for many of those remarks on various
niceties of Greek which he has given as his own in
different publications. Porson once said to me, " A
22
338 POESONIANA.
certain gentleman" (evidently meaning Bm-ney) " has
just been with me ; and he brought me a long string
of questions, every one of wliich I answered off-
hand. Eeally, before people become schoolmasters,
they ought to get up their Greek thoroughly, for
they never learn anything more of it afterwards." —
I one day asked Burney for his oj)inion of Porson
as a scholar. Burney replied, "I think my friend
Dick's acquaintance with the Greek dramatists quite
marvellous ; but he was just as well acquainted with
them at the age of thirty as he is now : he has not im-
proved in Greek since he added brandy-and-w^ater to
his potations, and took to novel-reading." Porson
would sometimes read nothing but novels for a fort-
night together.
Porson felt much respect for Gilbert "Wakefield's
integrity, but very little for his learning. When
Wakefield put forth the Diatribe Extcmporalis* on
* On the publication of Person's Ilecuha, Wakefield, in great
agitation, asked Mr. Evans (the now retired bookseller) who was
its editor? "Can you have any doubts?" replied Evans; "Mr.
Porson, of course."' — " But," said Wakefield, " I want proof, —
positive proof." " Well, then," replied Evans, " I saw Mr. Porson
present a large-paper copy to Mr. Cracherode, and heard him ac-
knowledge himself the editor." Wakefield immediately went home,
xmd composed the Diatrlhe. — Ed.
PORSONIANA. 339
Person's edition of the Hecuba, Person said, "If
Wakefield goes on at this rate he will tempt mo to
examine his Silva Critica. I hope that we shall not
meet ; for a violent quarrel would be the conse-
quence." — (Wakefield was a very agreeable and en-
tertaining compaiiion. " My Lucretius," he once
said to me, " is my most perfect publication, — it
is, in fact, Lucretius Restitutus. '"'■'• He was a great
walker ; he has walked as much as forty miles in
one day ; and I believe that his death was partly
brought on by excessive walking, after his long
confinement in Dorchester gaol. What offended
Wakefield at Porson was, that Porson had made no
mention of him in his notes. Now, Porson told
Burney expressly, that out of pure kindness he
had foi'borne to mention Wakefield ; for he could
not have cited any of his emendations without the
severest censure).
Dr. Raine, Dr. Davy, Cleaver Banks, and per-
haps I may add myself, were the persons with whom
Porson maintained the greatest intimacy.
Banks once invited Porson (about a year before
* He sadly deceived himself : see the judgment passed ou it
by Lachmaun in his admirable edition of Lucretius. — Ed.
310 POESONIANA.
Ills death) to dine with him at an hotel at the west
end of London ; but the dinner passed aw^ay with-
out the expected guest having made his appearance.
Afterwards, on Bank's asking him why he had not
kept his engagement, Porson rephed (without enter-
ing into further particulars) that "he had come:"
and Banks could only conjecture, that the waiters,
seeing Porson's shabby dress, and not knowing who
he was, had offered him some insult, which had made
him indignantly return home.
" I hear," said I to Porson, " that you are to dine
to-day at Holland House." "Who told you so?"
asked he. — I replied, " Mackintosh." But I certamly
shall not go," continued Porson : " they invite me
merely out of curiosity ; and after they have satisfied
it, they would like to kick me downstairs." I then
informed him that Fox was coming from St. Anne's
Hill to Holland House for the express purpose of
being introduced to him ; but he persisted in his
resolution ; and dined quietly with Eogers and myself
at Pvogers's chambers in the Temple. Many years
afterwards. Lord Holland mentioned to Eogers that
his uncle (Fox) had been greatly disappointed at not
meeting Porson on that occasion.
PORSONIANA. 341
Person disliked Mackintosh ; they differed in
poHtics, and their reading had httle in common.
One day Porson took up in my room a nicely
bound copy of the Polycraticon (by John of Salis-
bury), and having dipped into it, said, " I must read
this through ; " so he carried it off. About a month
had elapsed, when calling at his chambers, I hap-
pened to see my beautiful book lying on the floor
and covered with dust. This vexed me ; and I men-
tioned the circumstance to Mr. Maltby (an elder
brother of the Bishop of Durham) who repeated to
Porson what I had said. A day or two after, I dined
with Porson at Eogers's: he swallowed a good deal
of wine ; and then began in a loud voice an indirect
attack on me, — " There are certain people who com-
plain that I use their books roughly," &c., &c. I was
quite silent ; and when he found that I would not
take any notice of his tirade, he dropped the subject.
When Porson was told that Prettyman"- had been
left a large estate by a person who had seen him
only once, he said, " It would not have happened,
if the person had seen him twice."
* Then Bishop of Lincoln. A valuable estate was bequeathed
to him by Marmaduke Tomline (a gentlemen with whom he had no
j-elationship or connection) on condition of his taking the name of
Tomline.— Ed.
342 PORSONIANA.
Meeting me one day at a booksale, Person said,.
" That ■■'- * * the Bishop of Lincoln (Tomhue)
has just passed me in the street, and he shrunk from
my eye hke a wikl animak What do you think he
has had the impudence to assert ? Not long ago he
came to me, and, after informing me that Lord Elgin
was appointed ambassador to the Porte, he asked me
if I knew anyone who was competent to examine
the Greek manuscripts at Constantinople : I replied,
that I did not : and he now tells everybody that I
refused the proposal of government tJiat I should go
there to examine those manuscripts!" — I do not be-
lieve that Person would have gone to Constantinople,
if he had had the offer. He hated moving ; and
would not even accompany me to Paris. When I
was going thither, he charged me with a message to
Villoisou.
When Porson first met Perry after the fire in the
house of the latter at Merton, he immediately in-
quired "if any lives had been lost?" Perry replied
"No." "Well," said Porson, "then I shall not
complain, though I have lost the labours of my life."
His transcript" of the Cambridge Photius, which was
""■ Two beautifully written fragments of it (scorched to a deep
browu) are in my possession. — Ed,
POESONIANA. 343
burnt in that fire, lie afterwards replaced by pati-
ently making a second transcript ; but his numerous
notes on Aristophanes, which had also been con-
sumed, were irrecoverably gone.
He used to call Bishop Porteus "Bishop Pro-
teus " (as one who had changed his opinions from
liberal to illiberal).
For the scholarship of that amiable man Bishop
Burgess he felt a contempt w^hich he was unable to
conceal. He was once on a visit at Oxford, in com-
pany with Cleaver Banks, where, during a supper-
party, he gave great offence by talking of Burgess
with anything but respect. At the same supper-
party, too, he offended Professor Holmes :'■' taking up
an oyster which happened to be gaping, he exclaimed,
Quid dignuni tanto feret hie professor liiatu ?[ (sub-
stituting "professor" for ^' p-omissor").
Porson, having good reason to believe that Mat-
thias was the author of the Pursuits of Lite^'ature,
used always to call him "the Pursuer of Literature."
It was amusing to see Kidd in Porson's company :
he bowed down before Porson with the veneration
* The then Professor of Poetry. — Ed,
f Horace, Ars Poet. 138.— Ed.
344 POESONIANA.
due to some being of a superior nature, and seemed
absolutely to swallow every word that dropped from
liis mouth. Porson acknowledged (and he was slow
to praise) that " Kidd was a very pretty scholar."
Out of respect to the memory of Markland, Por-
son went to see the house near Dorking where he
had spent his later years and where he died.
I need hardly say that he thought Tyrwdiitt an
admirable critic.
A gentleman who had heard that Bentley was
born in the north, said to Porson, "Wasn't he a
Scotchman?" — "No, sir," replied Porson: "Bentley
was a great Greek scholar."
He said, "Pearson would have been a first-rate
critic in Greek, if he had not muddled his brains
W'ith divinity."
He had a high opinion of Coray as a scholar, and
advised me by all means to pm'chase his Hippocrates.*
He liked Larcher's translation of Herodotus, and,
indeed, all Larcher's pieces. At his recommenda-
tion I bought Larcher's Memoirc sur Venus. — He
was a great reader of translations, and never wrote
* i.e. The Treatise of Hippocrates on Airs, Waters, and Places
(in Greek and French), 2 vols. — Ed.
POESONIANA. 345
a note on any passage of an ancient author without
first carefully looking how it had been rendered by
the different translators.
Porson, of course, did not value the Latin writers
so much as the Greek ; but still he used to read many
of the former with great care, particularly Cicero, of
whose Titsculan Disputations he was very fond.
For all modern Greek and Latin poetry he had
the profoundest contempt. When Herbert pub-
lished the Mus(& Etoncnsis, Porson said, after looking
over one of the volumes, " Here is trash, fit only to
be put behind the fire."
His favourite authors in Greek (as, I believe,
everybody knows) were the tragedians and Aristo-
phanes ; he had them almost by heart.
He confessed to me and the present Bishop of
Durham (Maltby), that he knew comparatively little
of Thucydides, — that, when he read him, he was
obliged to mark with a pencil, in almost every i^age,
passages which he did not understand.
He dabbled a good deal in Galen.
He cared less about Lucian than, considering
the subjects of that writer, you might suppose; the
fact was, he did not relish such late Greek.
346 PORSONIANA.
He sent Thomas Taylor* several emendations of
Plato's text for his translation of that philosopher;
but Taylor, from his ignorance of the Greek lan-
guage, was unable to use them.
A gentleman who, at the age of forty, wished to
commence the study of Greek, asked Person with
what books he ought to begin? Porson answered,
"With one only, — Scapula's Lexicon; read it
through from the first page to the last."- — Of the
* With that remarkable person, Thomas Taylor, I was well
acquainted. In Greek verbal scholarship he was no doubt very
deficient (he was entirely self-taught) ; but in a knowledge of the
■?«ai^ie?-of Plato, of Aristotle, of the commentators on Aristotle (them-
selves a library), of Proclus, of Plotinus, &c., he has never, I pre-
sume, been equalled by any Englishman. That he endeavoured to
carry into practice the precepts of the ancient philosophers is suffi-
ciently notorious : that he did so to the last hour of his existence I
myself had a proof : the day before he died, I went to see him ; and
to my inquiry "how he was?" he answered, "I have passed a
dreadful night of pain, — liiit you rememher what Posldonius said to
PomiJey " (about pain being no evil).
Chalmers, in his Blog. Diet., expresses his regret that he can tell
so little about Floyer Sydenham, the excellent translator of Plato,
and remarks that he " deserves a fuller account." I give the fol-
lowing particulars concerning him on the authority of Taylor, who
when a young man was intimate with Sydenham, and who, let me
add, had a scrupulous regard to truth in whatever he stated. —
Sydenham was originally a clergyman with a living of about 800Z.
per annum ; but, having fallen in love with a young lady whose
father objected to his addresses because he was in the church, he
threw up his living, and had recourse to the law as a profession.
After all it appears, he did not marry the fair one for whose sake
PORSONIANA. 347
editions of that work Person most valued the Ge-
neva one : he said that he had found in it several
things which were not in the other editions.
He recommended Gesner's Thesaurus in prefer-
ence to all Latin dictionaries.
He read a vast number of French works, and
used to say, " If I had a son, I should endeavour
to make him familiar with French and English au-
thors, rather than with the classics. Greek and
Latin are only luxuries."
he had sacrificed so much. Having made no progress at the har, he
entered the naval service, went abroad, endured many hardships,
and finally worked his wa}^ back to England as a common sailor. He
was far from young when he first applied himself to the study of
Plato. During his later j'ears Taylor became acquainted with him.
On their first meeting, Sydenham shook Taylor cordially by the
hand, and said he reckoned himself truly fortunate in having at last
met with a real Platonist, — deeply regretting his own want of fami-
liarity with Proclus and Plotinus. He at that time lodged at the
house of a statuary in the Strand. He was in very distressed cir-
cumstances : and regularly received two guineas a month from
Harris (the author of Hermes). He used to dine at a neighbouring
eating-house, Avhere he had run up a bill of iOl. This debt, as
well as several other debts, he was unable to pay ; and his acquaint-
ances refused to discharge his bills, though they consented to main-
tain him during his abode in the Fleet-prison, where he was about
to be confined. The night preceding the day on which he was to
be carried to gaol he was found dead, — having undoubtedl)' (as
Taylor asserted) put an end to his existence. For some time before
his death he had been partially insane : as he went up and down
stairs, he fancied turkeys were gobbling at him, &c. — Ed.
548 PORSONIANA.
Of Italian, I apprehend, he knew httle or no-
thing.
He dehghted in Milton. " If I live," he ex-
claimed, "I "will write an essay to show the world
how unjustly Milton has been treated by Johnson."
— (George Steevens told me that Johnson said to
him, "In my Life of Milton I have spoken of the
Paradise Lost, not so much from my own convic-
tion of its merits, as in compliance with the taste of
the multitude." A very old gentleman, who had
known Johnson intimately, assured me that the bent
of his mind was decidedly towards scepticism ! that
he was literally afraid to examine his owm thoughts
on religious matters ; and that hence partly arose
his hatred of Hume and other such writers. —
Dr. Gossett (as he himself told me) once dined wuth
Johnson and a few others at Dr. Musgrave's (the
■editor of Eurijndes). Dming dinner, while Mus-
grave was holding forth very agreeably on some sub-
ject, Johnson suddenly interrupted him with, " Sir,
you talk like a fool." A dead silence ensued ; and
Johnson, perceiving that his rude speech had occa-
sioned it, turned to Musgrave, and said, " Sir, I fear
I have hurt your feelings." " Dr. Johnson," replied
PORSONIANA. SIS'
Musgrave, " I feel only for you.'" — I have often heard
Mrs. Carter say, that, rude as Johnson might occa-
sionally be to others, both male and female, he had
invariably treated her with gentleness and kindness.
She perfectly adored his memory ; and she used to
read his Tour to the Hebrides once every year, think-
ing it, as I do, one of his best works.)
Porson was passionately fond of Swift's Talc of a
Tub, and whenever he saw a copy of it on a stall,
he would purchase it. He could repeat by heart a
quantity of Swift's verses.
His admiration of Pope was extreme. I have
seen the tears roll down his cheeks while he was
repeating Pope's lines To the Earl of Oxford, pre-
fixed to Parnell's Poerns (and, indeed, I have seen
him weep, while repeating other favourite passages
— the chorus in the Hercules Furens of Euripides,
'A ve6Ta<i fjbOL <^lKov dxOo<;, &c.). He thought Pope's
Homer, in the finest passages of the poem, superior
to Cowper's. One forenoon, while he was going over
Pope's villa at Twickenham, in company with Eogers,
and myself, he said, " Oh, how I should like to pass
the remainder of my days in a house which was the
abode of a man so deservedly celebrated! "
mo PORSONIANA.
He was fond of Foote's plays, and would often
recite scenes from them,
Junius was one of his favourite authors ; he had
many passages of him by heart.
He greatly admired and used often to repeat the
following passage from the Preface to Middleton's
Free Inqidry :
" I persuade myself that the life and faculties of
man, at the best but short and limited, cannot be
employed more rationally or laudably than in the
search of knowledge ; and especially of that sort
which relates to our duty and conduces to our hap-
piness. In these inquiries, therefore, wdierever I
perceive any glimmering of truth before me, I
readily pursue and endeavour to trace it to its
source, without any reserve or caution of pushing
the discovery too far, or opening too great a glare of
it to the public. I look upon the discovery of any
thing which is true as a valuable acquisition to so-
ciety ; which cannot possibly hurt or obstruct the
good effect of any other truth whatsoever ; for they all
partake of one common essence, and necessarily coin-
cide with each other ; and like the drops of rain, which
fall separately into the river, mix themselves at once
POESONIANA. 351
with the stream, and strengthen the general cur-
rent."
He hked Moore's Fables for the Female Sex, and
I have heard hhn repeat the one which is entitled
" The Female Seducers."*
At a hooksale, the auctioneer having put up Wilkes's
edition of Tlieophrastus , and praised it highly, Per-
son exclaimed, " Pooh, pooh, it is like its editor,
— of no character." — (I was very intimate with
"Wilkes. He felt excessively angry at the account
given of him in Gibbon's "Journal" — in the quarto
edition of his Mlscell. Works, i. 100, — and said to
me that " Gibbon must have been drunk when he
wrote that passage." The fact is. Lord Sheffield
printed in the quarto edition only _2Ja7-i of what
Gibbon had loritten about Wilkes : if the whole of it
had appeared there, as it afterwards did in the
octavo edition, I have no doubt that Wilkes would
have called out Lord Sheffield.)
* This now-forgotten poem was once very popular. Speaking
of Dr. Mudge, " I remember," said Northcote, " Lis once reading
Moore's fable of The Female Seducers with such feeling and sweet-
ness that every one was delighted, and Dr. Mudge himself was so
much affected that he burst into tears in the middle of it." Hazlitt's
Conversations of Xorthcbte, p. 89. At present Moore is only recol-
lected as the author of Tlie Gamester. — Ed
352 PORSONIANA.
Porson would often carry in his pocket a volume
of A Cordial for Loio Spirits*
On returning from a visit to the Lakes, I told
Porson that Southey had said to me, " My Madoc
has brought me in a mere trifle ; but that poem will
be a valuable possession to my family." Porson an-
swered, ^' Madoc will be read, — when Homer and
Virgil are forgotten " (a bon-mot which reached Lord
Byron, and which his lordship spoilt).!
He disliked reading folios, " because," said he,
" we meet with so few miles-stones " ( i. e., we have
such long intervals between the turning over of the
leaves).
The last book he ever purchased was Watson's
Horace ; the last author he ever read was Pausa-
nias.
When asked why he had written so little, Porson
replied, " I doubt if I could produce any original
* As the Cordial fur Low Sjjirlfs, in three volumes, is now little
read, I may mention that it is a very curious collection of contro-
versial pieces, &c., some of which were written bj' Thomas Gordon
(author of TJie Independent Whig'), who edited the work. Its hete-
rodoxy did not render it the less acceptable to Porson. — Ed.
f Joan of Arc was marvellous enough ; but Thalaba was one
of those poems ' which,' in the words of Porson, ' will be read when
Homer and Virgil are forgotten, — but — not till then.' " Note ou
JSnffUsh Hards and Scotch Reviewers. — Ed.
POESONIANA. 353
work which would command the attention of poste-
rity. I can be known only by my notes : and I am
quite satisfied if, three hundred years hence, it shall
be said that ' one Porson lived towards the close of
the eighteenth century, who did a good deal for the
text of Euripides.' "
The Letters on the Orgies of Bacchus, signed
" Mythologus," are undoubtedly by Porson. Kidd
says that "his mind must have been overclouded "*
at the time he wrote those Letters : which is not
true ; his mind was then in its soundest and most
vigorous state. They show plainly enough what his
opinions were. — When any one said to him, " Why
don't you speak out more plainly on matters of re-
ligion?" he would answer, "No, no; I shall take
care not to give my enemies a hold upon me."
— The New Catechism for the use of the Sicinish
MiLltitude (which Carlisle of Fleet Street reprinted)
* Porsoii's Tracts, p. xxxiii. note. — The object of these Letters
(originally printed in The. Morning Chronicle, and reprinted in The
Sjnrit of the Public Journals for 1797) is to point out, or rather to
insinuate, the resemblance between the history of Bacchus and that
of our Saviour. However they may shock the reader, at least they
can do him no harm ; the -whole being quite as absurd as it is pro-
fane. — Ed.
23
354 PORSONIANA.
was also certainly by Porsou. I transcribed it from
a copy in his own handwriting.'''
It is not known who wrote Six more Letters to
Granville SkariJ, which, according to the title-page,
are by Gregory Blunt. They were very generally
attributed to Porson ; and I have been in a book-
seller's shop with him, when a person has come in,
and asked for " Mr. Porson's remarks on Sharp."
I do not believe that he was the author of them ;
but I have little doubt that he gave some assistance
to the author, particularly m the notes. He always
praised the work, and recommended it to his
friends, t
I have often heard him repeat the following lines,
which, I presume, were his own composition :l
* A gentleman informed me, that Porsou presented to him a
copy of the Catechism, — a printed copj'. — Ed.
f These Six more Letters form a sort of supplement to a publi-
cation by the late Dr. Christopher Wordsworth, entitled Six Letters
to Granville Sharp, Esq., rcsjiecting his Hemarhs on the Usesof tlie
Definitive Article in the Greek Text of the New Testament, 1802.
In the "Advertisement" to Who n-rote EIKHN BA5IMKH, &c.,
1824, Dr. Wordsworth states that Porson "assured him privately"
that the Six more Letters were not from his pen.— Ed.
X They are printed by Dubois, but very incorrectly, in his satire
on Sir John Carr, My Pochet Booh, &c. p. 01. — Ed.
PORSONIANA. 355
" Poctis nos la2tamur trihus,
Pye, Petro Pindar, parvo Pybus ;
Si idtcrius ire jKrgis,
Adde Ills Sir James Bland Burges."
Porson thought meanly of the medical science,
and hated consulting physicians. He once said to
me, " I have been staying with Dr. Davy at Cam-
bridge : I was unwell, and he prevailed upon me to
call in a physician, who took my money, and did
me no good."
During the earlier part of our acquaintance, I
have heard him boast that he had not the slightest
dread of death, — declaring that he despised fdbula
aniles, and quoting Epicharmus (from Cicero*), &c.
He was once holding forth in this strain, when Dr.
Babington said to him, "Let me tell you, Porson,
that I have known several persons who, though,
when in perfect health, they talked as you do now,
were yet dreadfully alarmed when death was really
near them."
A man of such habits as Porson was little fitted
for the office of Librarian to the London Institu-
tion. He was very irregular in his attendance there ;
* Tusc. i. 8.— Ed.
336 PORSONIANA.
he never troubled himself about the purchase of
books which ought to have been added to the li-
brary ; and he would frequently come home dead-
drunk long after midnight. I have good reason to
believe that, had he lived, he would have been re-
quested to give up the office, — in other words, he
would have been dismissed. I once read a letter
which he received from the Directors of the Institu-
tion, and which contained, among other severe things,
this cutting remark, — " We only know that you are
our Librarian by seeing your name attached to the
receipts for your salary." His intimate friend. Dr.
Eaine, was one of those who signed that letter ; and
Kainc, speaking of it to me, said, " Porson well de-
served it." As Librarian to the Institution, he had
200/. a-year, apartments rent-free, and the use of a
servant. Yet he was eternally railing at the Direc-
tors, calling them " mercantile and mean beyond
merchandize and meanness."
During the two last years of his life I could
perceive that he w' as not a little shaken ; and it is
really wonderful, when we consider his drinking,
and his total disregard of hours, that he lived so
long as he did. He told me that he had had an
affection of the lungs from his boyhood.
INDEX TO RECOLLECTIONS
OP
THE TABLE-TALK OF SAMUEL ROGERS.
Aberdeen, 244.
Adair, Sir Kobert, 98.
Adams, Dr, 107.
Addingtou, Dr., 111.
Adelphi, The, 102.
Addison, Joseph, 50, 97.
Africanus, Scipio, 176.
Aikin, Dr. John, 82,
Alexis (Clairvoyant), 293.
Allegra (Lord Byron's Daughter),
237.
Allen, William, 201.
Althorp (Lord Spencer's Seat), 8, 9.
Alvanley Lord, 105, 216, 217.
Andrews, Miles Peter, 121, 122.
Angelo, Michael, 20,
Anspach, Margravine of, 129.
Autonio, Marc, 156.
Apennines, The, 217.
Ariosto, Ludovico, 92, 258,
Athens, 177.
Artillery Ground, Balloon Ascent
from, 85.
Art Union, The, 158.
.Ashburton, Dunning, Lord, 56, 57.
Ashurst, Judge, 125.
Aston, Colonel Harvey, 32-31.
Auger, Athanasius, 174.
Austria, Emperor and Empress of,
191.
Baber (Librarian British Museum)
280, 287.
Bacon, John, 158.
Baillie, Joanna, 231.
Banbury Churchyard, 260.
Bankes, William, 291.
Banks, Thomas, 158.
Bannister, John, 8.
Barbauld, Mrs., 82, 96, 181, 182, 244.
Barrfe, Colonel, 251.
Barry, Spranger, 89.
Bartley, Mrs. (nee Smith) 189,
Bath, 103.
Bath, Lord, 217.
Bathurst, Lord, 26, 27, 268, 269.
Bathurst, Lady, 27.
Beattie, James, 41, 45.
358
INDEX TO THE EECOLLECTIOXS.
Beauclerk, Topham, 41.
Beaumout, Sir George, 8, 32, 34, 35,
190.
Beccaria, G. B., 260.
Beckford (Lord Mayor) 131, 132.
Beckford, his Statue in Guildha'],
132.
Beckford, William, 36, 217-220.
Bedford, Francis Duke of, 84, llu.
Beeehey, Sir W., 156.
Bellini's "Doge of Venice," 220.
Beloe — 136, 143.
Bentinck, Lord William, 101.
Berauger, J. P. de, 256.
Berry, The Misses, 261.
Berthier, Marshal Alexander, 272.
Besborough, Lord, 137.
Besborough, Lady, 71.
Betty, Master, 8S.
Bishop (Master of Merchant Tay-
lors' School) 117, ll'J.
Blair. Hugh, 46.
Bloomfield, Sir B., 268, 269.
Blount, Martha, 26.
Boddingtou — 42, 43, 127.
Bognor, 58,
Bolingbroke, Lord, 26, 27, 96.
Bolt Court (Dr. Johnson's House
in) 9.
Borghese Collection of Pictures,
155
Bossuet, Bishop, J. B., 50.
Bosville, Colonel, 129.
Boswell, James, 10, 20, 300.
Bowles, Kev. W. L., 114, 224, 261,
262.
Bowles, Mrs., 262.
Bow Street Police Office, 280.
Boyce, Miss, 233.
Boydell, Alderman, 22.
Brandenburgh House, 129.
Bridge of Sighs, The, 244.
Brighton, 116, 154, 267.
British Museum, 286, 287.
Brome, Lord, 145.
Brookes's Club House, 70, 74, 106,
164, 193.
Brougham, Lord, 237.
Brunton, Miss, 189.
Brussels, 243.
Buckingham, Duchess of, 269.
Buckingham House, 90, 264.
Buff on. Count de, 51.
Buonaparte, 86, 94, 245, 291. (See
JSapoleoii).
Buonaparte, Lucien, 272.
Burdett, Sir F., 130.
Burke, Edmund, 20, 21, 67, 79-81..
83, 84, 100, 175, 273, 274.
Burnet, Bishop, 89.
Burney, Dr. C, 131.
Burns, Kobert, 47.
Butler, Bishop Joseph, 114.
Byron, Lord, 154, 194, 212, 225,
231-244,284.
Byron, Lady, 154, 234.
Byron, Mrs. (Lord Byron's mo-
ther), 244.
Cadell (Publisher) 58, 107.
Ca3sar Julius, 94, 104, 176, 272.
Calais, 42.
Campbell, Lady Charlotte, 266.
INDEX TO THE RECOLLECTIONS.
350
Campbell, Thomas, 29, 210, 231,
241, 253-255.
Campagna, The, 191.
Campo Santo, 2-10.
Canning, George, 161-163.
Canova, Antonio, 158, 159, 273.
Canterbury, Lord, 289.
Carlisle, Lord, 73, ISO.
Carlton House, 268.
Carmarthen, Lord, 101.
Caroline, Queen, 264, 266. (See
Wales, Princess of.')
Carruthers, Mr., 47.
Carthage, 134.
Cary, Rev. H. F., 58, 285-287.
Casa Lanfranchi, 238.
Cassiobury (Lord Essex' Seat) 270.
Castlereagh, Lord, 192, 259.
Catherine, Empress, 104, 105.
Catiline, L. S. C, 176.
Cavendish Square, 267.
Chantrey, Sir F., 158-160, 195.
Chapter Coffee House, The, 102,
Charles L, 99.
Charlotte, Queen, 76, 143, 264.
Charlotte, Princess, 268, 269.
Chatham, Lord, 102, 134.
Chaucer, Geoffrey, 32, 90.
Chelsea Hospital, 214.
Chesterfield, Lord, 119, 120.
Chiswick House, 98.
Churchill, Charles, 141.
Cibber, Colley, 189.
Cicero, 43, 94, 198.
Clairvoyance, 293.
Clarence, Duke of, 263. (See Wil-
liam IV.)
Claude Lorraine, 155, 158, 191.
Cleopatra, 176.
Cline, Henry, 97, 129, 130.
Clive, Lord, 63.
Coleridge, S. T., 144, 152, 205-209,
285.
Collier, J. P., 298-301.
Collins, William, 110, 205.
Colman, Geo., Jun., 251.
Colosseum, The, in the Regent's
Park, 192.
Columbus, Christopher, 89.
Combe— (Dr. Syntax), 114-116,189.
Coudorcet, J. A. N., Marquis of, 42.
Congreve, William, 30, 96.
Conway Castle, 34.
Cooke, G. F. (as " lago "), 138.
Cooke, Captain James, 177.
Cork, Lady, 106, 290,
Corneille, Pierre, 51.
Cornwallis, Lord, 145, 146.
Courtenay, Mr., 37.
Covent Garden Market, 108.
CoAvper, William, 29, 61-63, 97, 136-
138, 182.
Cowper, Earl, 155.
Crabbe, Rev. George, 165, 240-250.
Craamer, Archbishop, 259, 260.
Credi, Lorenzo di, 160, 161.
Ci-ewe, Mr. and Mrs. (afterwards
Lord and Lady), 24, 64, 65, 80,
81, 100, 174, 221.
Croker, John Wilson, 131.
Cromwell, Oliver, 99.
Crowe, Mr. (Poet), 226-230, 251.
Cumberland, Duke of, 103.
Cumberland, Richard, 138, 139,
360
INDEX TO THE RECOLLECTIONS.
Cuuniughani, Peter, 2.
Curran, J. P., 161.
Cuyp (Painter), 150.
D'Adhemar, Count, 21,
D'Alembert, J, le Kond, 125.
Dance, Nathaniel, 22.
Daunecker, J. H., 159.
Dante, Alighieri, 158, 285.
Darwin, Erasmus, 182.
D'Arblay, Madame, 182, 194.
Dawson, Mrs,, 251.
Delille, Jacques, 49.
Demostlienes, 174.
D'Enghien, Duke, 94.
Derby, Countess of. (See Farvcn.)
Derby, Lord, 201.
Devil's Dyke, The, at Brighton, 271.
Devonshire, Georgiana, Duchess of
192-194, 253.
Devonshire, William, fifth Duke
of, 98, 153.
Devonshire House, 1C4, 193, 234.
Dino, Duchess di, 256.
D'Israeli, Isaac, 30,
Dodd (Actor), Go.
Domenichino, Zampieri, 240.
Dorchester Goal, 142, 143.
Doria Collection of Pictures, 155.
Douay College, 114.
Douglas, Dr., 107.
Downing Street, 146.
Drummond, Sir W., 265.
Drury Lane Theatre, 66, 233.
Dryden, John, 30-32, 89, 90, 224.
Dublin, 178.
Dudley, Lord, 153, 154, 186, 187,
265. (See Ward.^
Duels, 215-217.
Dumfries, 47.
Dundas, Henry, 111, 112, 146.
Dunmore, Lady, 179.
Dunmore, Lord, 145.
Dunning (Lord Ashburton), 57.
Durham, Lord, 257.
Dyce, Eev. A., 151, 172;
Dyer, Samuel, 274.
Edinburgh, 44-47.
Eldon, Lord, 128, 192.
Elgin Marbles, 155,
Ellenborough, Lady, 200.
Ellenborough, Lord, 199, 200.
Elliot, Miss, 110.
Ellis, George, 154.
Ellis, Welbore, 64,
Elwes, John, 126.
Englefield, Sir Henry, 155, 265,
Erskine, Lord, 52-55, 128, 147, 150,
151,289.
Essex, Lord, 270.
Este, Parson, 59, 60, 144.
Euripides, 93.
Farnborough, Lord, 22.
Farren, Miss Eliza, 18, 65.
Feinagle (Lecturer), 43.
Ferney ("Voltaire's residence), 78.
Fielding, Henry, 230.
Fincastle, Lord, 280.
Fitzgerald, Lady Edward, 68, 81.
(See Pamela.')
Fitzgerald, Lord Edward, 68.
INDEX XP THE KECOLLECTIOXS.
301
Fitzpatrick, General Eicliard, 10,
66, 86, 1C6, 107, 193, 281.
Fitzwilliam, Lord, 77, 78.
Flask Walk, Hampstead, 182,
Flaxman, John, 59, 158.
Fletcher (rebel), 2.
Florence, 77.
Fonthill (Beckford's seat), 217,
218.
Foote, Samuel, 101-103.
Fordyce, Dr., 24.
Foscolo, Ugo, 205, 285.
Fox, Charles James, 21, 37, 73-101,
106, 1-14,251,257,
Fox, Mrs,, 85, 86, 88, 89, 97, 98, 106.
Fox, General, 85, 86.
Fox, Joseph, 204.
Francis, Sir Philip, 275, 276.
Frere, J. Hookham, 194, 206.
Fuller, Jack, 195.
Fuseli, Henry, 201.
Gaerick, David, 8, 9, 88, 89, 102,
103, 108,
Garrick, as "Lear," 7, 8, 138,
Garrick, as " Ranger," 7.
Genlis, Madame de, 81, 82.
Genoa, 126, 127.
George IIL, 90, 91, 262,
Geneva, 78, 198.
George IV. (See Wales, Prince
of:) 108, 269-271.
Gerald, — , 50.
Gibbon, Edward, 25, 67, 78, 117,
136, 175, 198.
Gibbon, his house at Lausanne,
198.
Gifford, William, 30, 131, 153,211-
214.
Gilpin William, 19, 259.
Giorgione, 157, 293.
Glenbervie, Lady, 84.
Glencoe, Pass of, 132.
Gloucester, Duchess of, 166.
Gloucester, Duke of, 166.
Glynn, — , 136.
Goderich Castle, 177.
Godwin, William, 251, 252.
Goethe, J. W. von., 255.
Goldsmith, Oliver, 86, 240.
Gordon, Jane, Duchess of, 145,146.
Gordon, Louisa, daughter of above,
145.
Gordon, Lord George, 184.
Graham, Sir James, 292.
Grande Chartreuse, 78.
Grattan, Henry, 174-176.
Grattau, Mrs., 177.
Gray, J. Hamilton, 297-305.
Gray, Thomas, 36-40, 92, 162, 163,
224.
Greenwich, 131.
Gregory, Dr., 47.
Grenville, Lord, 79, 111, 112, 259.
Grenville, Lady, 1 55.
Grenville, Rt. Hon. Thomas, 8, 55,
64, 180, 201.
Greville, — , 184.
Grey, Lord, 193.
Grosvenor, Lord, 153.
Guido, Rheni, 154.
Guilford, Lady, 201.
Guilford, Lord, 223, 224.
Gulliver's Travels, 260.
3C2
IN^DEX TO THE EECOLLECTIOXS.
Gurwood, Colonel, 292, 293.
Hagley (Lord Lyttelton's seat),
120.
Halford, Sir Henry, 271.
Halhed, N.B., C8.
Hamilton, Alexander, Duke of, 220.
Hamilton, Arcliibald, Duke of, 179.
Hamilton, Duchess of, 217, 220.
Hamilton, Emma, Lady, li3, 144.
Hamilton, Sir William, 143.
Hamilton, W. Gerard, 175.
Hampden, Lord, 143.
Hampstead, 53, 183, 184.
Hampstead Assemblies, 103.
Handel, G. Frederick, 262.
Hannibal, 176.
Harcourt, Lord. 40.
Hare, J. C, 105, 106.
Harington, Sir John, 258.
Harness, Eev. W., 245.
Harris, James. 130.
Harrow, 237, 245.
Hastings, Warren, 66, 67, 79.
Hatfield (Lord Salisbury's seat),
252.
Haydn, Joseph, 23.
Hay Hill, Footpads on, 163, 164.
Hayley, Wm., 58, 59, 182.
Haymarket Theatre, 103.
Hazlitt, William, 88.
Head-dresses of the Ladies, 23, 24.
Helens, Lord St., 104, 105.
Henderson, John, 110.
Henderson, as " Falstaff," 138.
Henley, — , 36.
Herschel, Sir John, 198.
Highwaymen in Former Days, 201,
Hippocrates, 95.
Historians, the Greek and Latin,
94, 95,
Hobhouse, J. Cam, 231, 232, 240.
Hogarth, William, 157.
Holland, Henry, Lord, 204, 205.
Holland, H. E. Vassall, Lord, 1,
28, 58, 72, S3, 84, 139, 204, 259,
277-279,
Holland, Elizabeth, Lady, 97, 98,
275-290.
Holland House, 95, 231, 278.
Holwood (Pitt's Seat), 112.
Homer, 61-63, 93, 104, 194.
Hook, Theodore, 288, 289.
Hoole, Eev. Samuel, 132.
Hope, Henry, 267.
Hoppner, John, 211, 212, 214.
Hoppner, Mrs., 212.
Horace, 28, 90.
Horner, Francis, 281.
Horsley, Bishop, 215.
House of Commons, 102, 111, 139,
195, 251.
Howard, John, 154.
Howarth, Humphrey, 216.
Howe, Admiral Lord, 26.
Howley, Archbishop, 72, 172, 286.
Howth's, Lord, Eat, 170-172.
Humboldt, Alexander von, 51.
Hume, David, 45, 106, 107, 125,
145.
Humphrey, Ozias, 88.
Hungerford Churchyard, 275.
Hunt, Leigh, 239.
Hunter, John, 61.
INDEX TO THE EECOLLECTIONS.
363
Hunter, Mrs. John, 47.
Hurd, Bishop, 102.
Huskisson, William, 111.
Hyde Park, 292.
INCIIBALD, Mrs., 2-1G-248,
Ireland, Curses of, 202.
Irishmen, Behaviour of, 191, 192.
Isabey (painter), 27.3.
Italy, 56, 126, 237,238, 241, 260.
Jackson, Dr. Cyril, 163.
Jackson, John, 159.
Jeffrey, Lord, 280, 281, 283.
Jekyll, Joseph, 106.
Jersey, Lady, 195, 233, 267, 268,
278.
Johnson, Dr. Samuel, 9, 10.
Johnson, Mrs. (Swift's " Stella "),
174.
Jordan, Mrs., 65.
Jortin, Dr. John, 50.
Josephine, Empress, 272.
Junius's Letters, 175, 273-276.
Juvenal, 212.
Keith, Lord, 303.
Keith, Viscountess (Miss Thrale),
297.
Kemble, J. P., 88, 189, 190,
Kemble, as " Macbeth," 153.
Kemble, as " King Lear," 8.
Kensington Palace, 265.
Kent, Duke of, 166.
Kenyou, Lord, 199.
King. Thomas, 65.
King's Bench Prison, 116.
Kippis, Dr., 44, 135.
Knight, E. Payne, 61, 205, 307.
Knighton, Sir William, 270.
Knowles, Sheridan, 288.
Kosciusko, Thaddeus, 52.
Lafayette, G. M. Marquis de, 42.
Lamartine, 256.
Lamb, Lady Caroline, 234, 235.
Lamb, Charles, 237, 283.
Lancaster, Joseph, 203, 201.
Lane (Publisher), 140.
Lansdowne, H. Petty Lord, 4, 58,.
59, 139.
Laurence, Dr., 21, 79, 273.
Lausanne, 190, 198.
Laurence, Sir Thomas, 157, 160,
185-187, 270.
Lawless, — , 25, 26.
Legge, Bishop, 162.
Lenox, Lady Sarah, 77.
Leopold, Prince, 269.
Lewis, " Monk," 165, 166.
his " Skeleton in the Church
Porch," 166-169.
his " Lord Howth's Rat,'
170-172.
Lindsay, Lady Charlotte, 224.
Listen, John (as " Paul Pry "),.
256.
Living like Brothers, 184, 185.
Locke, M., 153,
London likened to a Cemetery,
225.
London Bridge, 248, 261.
Loudon Tavern, 125.
Longleat (Lord Bath's Seat), 217.
361
INDEX TO THE RECOLLECTIONS.
Lonsdale, Lord, 192, 207, 209, 210
Loughborough, Lord, IDS.
Louvre, The, 86, 88, 210. |
Lowther Castle (Lord Lonsdale's
Seat), 209.
Lucan, Lady, 10.
Luuardi (Balloonist), 85.
Lunu, Miss, 103, 104.
Luttrell, Henry, 31, 54, 236, 279.
Lyons, 74.
Lyttelton, George Lord, 90, 120.
Lytteltou, Thomas Lord, 96, 120,
121.
Mack, Chas., General, 271.
Mackenzie, Henry, 45-47.
Mackintosh, Sir James, 49, 50, 86,
133, 196-198, 207, 254, 274,
286.
Macklin, Charles, 33, 34.
Maclaine, Archibald, 39.
Macleane (Highwayman), 39.
Macready, as " William Tell," 288.
Mall, The, 11.
Malmesbury, Jas. Harris, Earl of.
130.
Malone, Edmund, 80, 174, 273.
Maltby, William, 9, 18, 83, 109,
114, 204, 220, 236, 240, 267,
300.
MalthuB, Rev. T. R., 196.
Mansel, Dr., CO.
Mansfield, Lord, 57, 102.
Mansion House, The, 241, 275.
Manzoni, — , 260.
Marivaux, P. C, de, 48, 49.
Marley, Dean and Bishop, 177, 178.
Marmontel, J. F., 82, 123.
Martindale (Gambler), 193.
Mary II., 27.
Mason, William, 19, 36, 40.
Massinser, Philip, 91.
Mathews, Charles, 224.
Matthias, Thos. James, 31, 135-137.
Medwin, Thomas, 238.
Melbourne, Lord, 287.
Melville, Lady, 223, 224,
Melville, Henry Lord, 223.
Metastasio, 91.
Mickle, W. Julius, 96.
Middleton, Conyers, 50.
Milan, 266.
Milton, John, 20, 91, 130, 151, 152,
194, 196, 224, 230.
Mitford, Rev. J., 38.
Mitford, William, 139.
Moira, Lord, 267.
Moliere, J. B. P. de, 51.
Monboddo, Lord, 51.
Monsey, Dr., 214,215,
Montagu, Lady M. W., 40.
Mont Blanc, 179, 190.
Montreuil, 48.
Moore, Sir J. Henry, 48.
Moore, Thomas, 69-71, 162, 224,
230, 231, 236, 245, 279-285,
289,
More, Hannah, 27.
Morgan, Lady, 298, 301-305.
Morris, Captain, 253.
Morton, Thomas, 121, 122,
Murat, Joachim, 277.
Murphy, Arthur, 102, 107-110, 241,
304.
INDEX TO THE RECOLLECTIONS.
36&
Nando's Coffee House, 57.
Napier, — , 292.
Naples, 191,277.
Naples, Queen of, 277.
Napoleon, 271-273. (See Buono-
2)artc.')
his bust, by Canova, 273.
his portrait, by Isabey, 273.
Nash, Beau, 103, 104, 305, 306.
National Gallery, 155, 220.
Nelson, Lord, 143, 144.
Newington Green, 4, 17.
Niagara, Falls of, G2.
North, Frederick Lord, C4, 79, 84,
251.
Northcote, John, 20, 23, 88.
OATLANDS (Duke of York's Seat),
IGo.
O'Coigly, James, 49.
O'Connell, Dan, 21G.
Ogle, — , 70.
Oglethorpe, General, 10.
Old Hummums, The, 248.
Omnibuses, First Introduction of,
288.
O'Neill, Miss, 189.
Ottley, W. y., 100, IGl.
Paley, Archdeacon. 92, 119.
Pamela (Lady Edward Fitzgerald)
81.
Panshanger, Pictures at (Earl
Cowper's seat), 155.
Paris, 42, 51, 52, 74, 87, 123, 149,
240, 284, 293.
Parr, Dr. Samuel, 49, 50, 03, 64,
114.
Parsons, William, G5.
Parthenon, The, 241.
Pascal, Blaise, 51.
Pavilion, The, at Brighton, 2G7.
Pearson, Dr. George, 130.
Peel's Coffee House, 18.
Peel, Sir Eobert, Senr., 251.
Peel, Sir Robert, Junr. (Prime
Minister), 250, 251, 287, 292.
Pembroke Hall, Cambridge, 29,.
162.
Pepys, Sir William Weller, 7.
Perdita. (See Mrs. Robinson.)
Peter House, Cambridge, 162.
Petrarch, Francesco, 92.
Petty, Lord Henry, 58, 59.
Pindar, Peter (John Wolcot), 141,
142.
Piozzi. Mr. and Mrs., IS, 46, 47,
107, 297-305.
Pisa, 238-240.
Pitt, George (Lord Rivers), 55, 56.
Pitt, William, 79, 80, 83, 111-114,.
128, 145.
Pitti Palace, Florence, 240.
Places given away by Government,
178.
Plays, New, 25G.
Plunket, W. C. Lord, 175.
Poole, John, 256-258.
Pope, Alexander, 25-30, 39, 40, CO,
92, 208, 224.
Pope, Miss, 65.
Porsou, Richard, 75, 79, 109, 136,
220-222.
•366
INDEX TO THE EECOLLECTIOXS.
Portland, Duke of, 84, 228.
Portland Place, 225.
Poussin, Caspar, 158, 191.
Praising Children, 230.
Price, Dr. Piicbard, 4-7, 44, 107,
154.
Price, Major, 262, 263.
Price, Sir Uvedale, 76, 77,115, 246.
Princes Street, Hanover Square,
109.
Princesses, the daughters of George
TIL, 284.
Prior, Mathew, 23, 250.
Priestley, Joseph, 123, 124.
Prouounciation of Words, 251.
Quix, James, 32.
Eacixe, Jean, 51, 225.
Eacine, Louis, 225.
Ealeigh, Sir Walter, 96.
Eanelagh, 11, 24, 84.
Eaphael.da Urhino, 155-157, 187.
Bat, Lord Howth's, 170-172.
Eembrandt, 157.
Eenuell, Thos., 136.
Eevolution, the French, 179,
Eeynolds, Sir Joshua, 20-23, 7."^,
87, 157.
his Infant Ilercnles, 21.
his ^luscljnila, 21.
his Pud;, 22.
his house in Leicester Square,
23.
Eichardson. Joseph, 65.
Eichardson, Samuel, 182, 183, 284.
Eichmond, Duke of. 83.
Eichmoud, Duchess of, 213.
Eichmond Hill, 87.
Elvers, George Pitt Lord, 55, 56.
Eobertson, Eev. W., 44-46, 89.
Eohinson, Mrs. (Perdita), 144.
liohinsoii Cni.we, 200.
Eochefoucauld, Duke de la, 42.
Eogers, Mr., Father of S. Rogers,
3,7.
Mrs., Mother of S. liogcrs, 1,
3,7.
Eogers, Samuel :
Anecdotes of his childhood,
boyhood, youth, kc, passim.
his Scribbler, 11-15.
his Hues, 2h a Ladg on the
Bcath of her Lover, 16.
his Ode to Superstition, 17.
his Captivity, 17.
Ills lines. To the Gnat. 17.
his Pleasures of Memory, 18.
19, 277.
his Human Life, 10, 170, 247.
his Italy, 19, 180.
his Vintage of Hzirgundy.ld.
his Columbus, 153, 154.
his Jacqueline, 154.
his coulribution to an article
in The Edinburgh Pevicw,
285.
his house in St. James's Place,
109, 234, 239, 247, 293, 297.
his house in the Temi)le, 109,
197, 226.
Eomney, Geo., 64.
Eose, Stewart, 247, 258, 259.
Eoslin, Lady, 257.
INDEX TO THE RECOLLECTIONS.
367
Eos5, CO,
Kousseau. J. Jacques, 106, 183.
Rowe, Nicholas, 159, 177, 192.
Eoyal Academy, The, 20, 21, 18G,
257.
Eubens, P. Paul, 157, 158.
Eussell, Lord John, 292.
Russell, Thomas, 172-174.
Rutland, Duke of, 248.
Rutland, Duchess of, 248.
Sacchi, Andrea, 87.
Salisbury, Lady, 252, 253.
Sallust, 183.
St. Anne's Hill, 22, 75, 8G.
St. John, Hon. Mr., 115.
St. Paul's Churchyard, 7.
Sargent, Mr., 58.
Sarto, Andrea del, 155, 240,
Scott, Sir Walter, 70, 194-19G, 209,
231, 238, 240, 250, 257, 259,
2C0, 283,
Scott, Chantrey's Bust of, 195.
Scriptures, English version of, 223.
Seaforth, Lord, 223.
Segur, Louis Count de, 105,
Selvvyn, George, 204, 205.
Sergeant's Inn, 128.
Seward, Miss, 2.
Shakespeare, William, 39, 93, 95,
90, 151, 152, 202, 222, 224,
238, 284.
Sharp, Richard, 1, 18, 132-134, 153,
154, 197,240, 278.
Sheffield, Lord, 117.
Selburne, Lord, 123, 179.
Shelley, P. Bysshe, 238, 239
Sheridan, Richard, Brinsley, 32,
64-72, 74, 79, 81, 91, 96, 119,
188, 193, 195, 230, 238.
Sheridan, Mrs. (wee Linley), first
wife of R. B. S., 64, 65, 71.
Sheridan, Mrs. Qiee Ogle), second
wife of R. E. S., 72, 233.
Sheridan, Mrs., mother of R. B. S.,
91.
Sheridan, Thomas, 50.
Siddons, Mrs., 59, 88, 110, 115, 138,
188-190, 203, 247.
Siddons, Mrs., her House in Marl-
borough Street, 188.
Siddons, as " Lady Macbeth," 153.
Sidmouth, Lord, 111.
Sidney, Sir Philip, 282.
Skeleton in the Church Porch, The,
166-169.
Smith, Adam, 44-46.
Smith, John, 217.
Smuh, Robert, 133, 183, 184, 196.
Smith, Sydney, 71, 289-291.
Smith, William, 82, 83.
Smyth, Mr., 72.
Sneyd, Mr., 281.
Soame, Mr., IS.
Society of Arts, The, 185, 186.
Sonnet- Writing, 210.
Sophocles, 93.
Southey, Robert, 207, 208, 223, 225,
292.
Spencer, Lady, 10.
Spencer, Lord, 8, 55, 5C.
Spencer, Lord Robert, 164.
Spencer, William, 221, 280.
Spenser, Edmund, 208.
368
INDEX TO THE EECOLLECTIONS.
Stael, Madame de, 235, 253, 254.
Standard Novels, 140.
Stanhope, Lady Hester, 256.
Stanley, Lord, 292.
Steevens, George, 136.
Stella, Swift's, 174.
Stephens, Alexander, 131.
Sterne, Laurence, 42, 80, 116.
Stone, John, 81.
Stone, William, 146-151.
Stothard, Thomas, 111, 112.
Stowe (Duke of Buckingham's
Seat), 269, 270.
Stowell, Lord, 144, 145.
Strasburg, 271.
Strathfieldsaye (Duke of Welling-
ton's Seat), 293.
Strealham, 46, 107.
Streatham, Mrs. Piozzi's house at,
18.
Stuart, Professor, 244.
Surr, T. S., 194.
Surrey, Lord, 90.
Sutherland, Duchess-Countess of,
271.
Swift, Jonathan, 51, 92, 174, 178.
Syljyli, The, 192.
Tacitus, 183.
Talbut, The, at Eichmond, 108.
Talleyrand, C. M. de Perigord, 82,
256, 271-273.
Tankerville. Lord, 74, 201.
Tarleton, General, 25 L
Temple, The, 109, 197, 226.
Temple, Sir William, 100.
Temple Bar, Kebels' Heads on, 2.
Thanet, Lord, 104.
Thrale, Mrs., 46. (See Piozzi.')
Thrale, Miss. (SeeXeitJi, Viscotm'
tc.ss.')
Thurlow, Lord Chancellor, 53, 54,
57.
Thurlow, Edward Lord, 282, 283.
Tickell, Richard, 64, 65, 72, 73.
Tickell, Thomas, 97.
Tierne}', George, 83,
Tight Lacing of the Ladies, 24.
Tooke, J. Home, 57, 82, 124-132.
Topham, Captain, 59.
Townley (rebel), 2.
To^^'nley, Charles, 185.
Townshend, Lord John, 66.
Tree, Miss (Mrs. Bradshaw), 279,
Trelawney, Captain, 238, 239.
Trotter, Mr., 91, 93, 98.
Turner, J. M. W., 157, 158.
Turtou, Dr., 131, 132.
Tyburn, 184.
Ulswater, 133.
Umbrellas, 41.
Usher, — , 210.
Vasaki, Giorgio, 161.
Vauxhall, 11, 66,70.
Vernon, — , 134.
Vesuvius, Mount, 191.
Vicenza, 56.
Vinci, Lionardo da, 156.
Virgil, 30, 31, 38, 54, 95, 208.
Voltaire, F. M. A. de, 45, 49, 76, 78,
92.
INDEX TO THE RECOLLECTIONS,
3G9
Wakefield, Gilbert, S7, 13G, 142,
143.
Wales, Prince of, 53, 54, 143, 144,
163, 193, 253, 2G7-269. (See
George I F.)
Wales, Trincess of, 264-207. (See
Caroline Queen.')
Walpole, Horace, 36, 130.
Warburton, Bishop, 27.
Ward, — , 153, 154, 205, (Sec
Bxidlc]!, Lord).
Warton, Joseph, 135.
Warton, Thomas, 135, 136.
Washington, George, 99, 175.
Waterloo, Battle of, 243.
Webb, P. C, 58.
Wellington, Duke of, 83, 271, 291-
293.
Wesley, Rev. John, 122, 123.
his Chapel in the City Road,
122.
West, Richard, 39, 40.
West, Benjamin, 211.
Westminster Abbey, 202.
Westminster Bridge, 200.
Westminster Hall, 60, 07, 79.
Wewitzer, Ralph, GO.
White's Club-house, 101.
Whyte, Lydia, 71.
Wilberforce, William, 83, 114.
Wilbraham, Roger, 307.
Wilkes, John, 43, 44, 236.
William III., 27, 175.
William IV., 203. (See Clarence,
Dulte of.)
Williams, Helen Maria, 51.
Willis, Colonel, 207.
Wilson, Richard, 156.
Wilson, Professor John, 255.
Wiml)ledon, Tooke's house at, 129.
Windham, William, 76, 87, 97, 166.
Windsor Castle, 211, 262.
Windsor, Royal Chapel at, 211.
Winter in London, A, 194.
Wolcott, John, " Peter Pindar,"
141, 142.
Woodfall, William, 274.
Words twisted, &c., 44,
Wordsworth, William, 38, 39, 97
140, 152, 172, 177, 181, 182,
195, 206-210, 225, 237, 238,
254, 255, 261, 285.
Wordsworth, Miss, 208, 209.
World, The, 97.
York, Duke of, 54, 67, 103, 104,
208, 209.
York, Duchess of, 164-166.
Young, Rev. Edward, 35.
Youth always appearing Beautiful
to the Old, 140.
24
INDEX TO POPvSONIANA.
Asri, Captain, 327.
Babington, Dr., .355.
Baker, Sir Gcorse, 316, 31R.
Banks, Cleaver, 325, 339, 310, 313.
Barker, 337.
Bentley, Bichard, 344.
Brunck, Professor, 313.
Bryant, Jacob, 325.
Burges, Sir J. Bland, 355.
Burgess, Bishop, 343.
Burney, Dr. Clias., Jun., 330, 337,
3;59.
Byron, Lord, 352.
Cambridge University, 311-314,
330.
Carruthers, Mr., 32G.
Carter, Mrs., 349.
Cicero, 345, 355,
Cogan, Eliezar, 322.
Coray, — , 344.
Cumberland, Richard, 336-33S.
Cowper, Wm,, 349.
DAVY, Dr. (Caius College). 326,
339, 355.
Douglas, Dr. and Bishop, 325.
Downie, Dr., 328.
Egerton (Publlisher), 324.
Elgin, Lord, 342.
Essex Court, Person's Chambers
in, 322, 323, 329.
Eton College, 317.
Euripides, 348, 349, 353.
FooTE, Samuel, 350.
Fox, C. J., 340.
Galen, 315.
Gesner, J. Mathias, 348.
Gibbon, 314, 324, .325, 351.
Goodall, Dr., (Provost of Eton),
318.
Gordon, Thos., 352.
Gosset, Dr., 348.
Gurney, Baron, 322, 323.
Hawkins, Sir John, 313.
Hazlitt, W., 351.
Heathcote, Robert, 323.
Heber, Richard, 328, 329.
Herbert, — , 345.
Holland House, 340.
Holland, Lord, 340.
Holmes, Professor, 343.
Hoppner, John, 320,321.
INDEX TO PORSONIANA.
371
Hoppner, Mrs., 821.
Horsley, Bishop, 337.
Hume, David, 348.
Jennings, Clayton, 327.
Jolmson, Dr. Samuel, 318, 340.
Junius, 350.
KiDD,— ,315, 343, 344, 353.
Lachmann, — , 339.
Larcher, P. H., 344.
Leigh and Sotheby's Auction
Rooms, 323.
London Institution, 311, 315, 355,
356.
Lucian, 345.
Lunan, Mrs. (Person's wife), 323.
Mackintosh, Sir James, 340, 341.
Maltby, William, passim,
Maltby, Bishop, 321, 326.
Maltby, Mr., brother to the Bishop,
341, 345.
Markland, Jeremiah, 344.
Mathias, T. J., 343.
Middleton, Dr. Conyers, 350.
Milton, John, 348.
Moore, Edward, 351.
Mudge, Dr., 351.
Musgrave, Dr., 348.
NOEEIS, John, 312.
Paley, Archdeacon, 326, 327.
Parr, Dr., 335, 337.
Pearson, 344.
Perry, James, 342, 343.
Pindar, Peter, 355.
Pope, Alexander, 349.
his Villa at Twickenham,
349.
Person, Pachard, 2}assm.
Porteus, Bishop, 343.
Postlethwaite (Master of Trinity
College), 330, 331.
Pretyman, Bishop (afterwards
Tomline), 341, 342.
Priestley, Dr., 336, 337.
Raine, Dr., 339.
Rennell, Thomas, 325.
Rogers, Samuel, 340, 341, 349.
Ruhnken, Professor, 313.
Sharp, Granville, 354.
Sheffield, Lord, 351.
Shipley, Bishop, 318.
Southey, Robert, 352.
Steevens, George, 348.
Swift, Jonathan, 349.
Sydenham, Floyer, 346, 347.
Tayloe, Thomas, 346, 347.
Thucydides, 345.
Tooko, J. Home, 319, 320, 336.
Travis, Archdeacon, 313, 324, 325.
Trinity College, Cambridge, 315.
Tyrwhitt, Thomas, 344.
VILLOISON, J. B. G,, 342.
Wakefield, Gilbert, 338, 339.
Watson, Rev. Selby, 315.
Wilkes, John, 351.
Wolcot. (See Pindar.)
Wordsworth, Dr. C, 354.
THE END.
J
THE LIBRAE
WmiiHSinlif °'°^^^ '■'^"^'^^ '^^'^"-'^^
A A 001 423 608 7