Chapter III: Part THE SECOND (1)

A Man of Consequence.
A Hackney Parson.
A Macaroni Parson.
A Hair-dresser.
A Robin Hood Orator.
Lady Tit for Tat.
An Italian Tooth-drawer
High Life in St. Giles’s.
A Jockey, and
A Jew’s Catechism.

And Part the Third will consist of a short Magic Sketch called

“PUNCH’S ELECTION.

“Admittance 2s. 6d. each, Coffee or Tea included. The doors
to be opened at seven, and the Exordium to be spoken at eight
o’clock.

“Vivant Rex et Regina.”

At the foot of Mr. Baddeley’s subsequent bills the Gardens are announced to be still open on a Sunday evening for company to walk in. Some of the papers of this year declare, under Mr. Baddeley’s advertisements, that “no person going into the Gardens with subscription tickets will be entitled to tea or coffee.”

The next advertisement was on Tuesday, June 20th.

“MARYBONE GARDENS.

This Evening will be delivered

A LECTURE ON MIMICRY,

BY GEORGE SAVILLE CARY.[120]

In which will be introduced

“A Dialogue between Small Cole and Fiddle-stick; Billy Bustle,
Jerry Dowlas, and Patent; with the characters of Jerry Sneak
in Richard the Third, Shylock in Macbeth, Juno in her Cups,
Momus in his Mugs, and the Warwickshire Lads. To conclude with
a dialogue between Billy Buckram and Aristophanes, in which
Nick Nightingal, or the Whistler of the Woods, will make his
appearance, as he was lately shown at the Theatre Royal, in the
character of a Crow.

“Admittance 2s. 6d., coffee or tea included.

“The Lecture will be repeated To-morrow, Thursday, and
Saturday.”

“June 21st.

MARYBONE GARDENS.

This Evening will be delivered

A LECTURE ON MIMICRY,

by

GEORGE SAVILLE CARY.

“After a new Poetical Exordium, a variety of THEATRICAL
DELINEATIONS will be introduced.

“Mr. Fiddle-stick, Mr. Small Coal, Mrs. Artichoke, Mrs.
H--l--y; Bustle the Bookseller; Mr. Patent, Mr. G----k; Jerry
Sneak, Richard III., Mr. W----; another Richard, Mr. S--th;
Shylock, in Macbeth, M--n--.

“‘What, alas! shall Orpheus do?’ Sig. M--ll--o; ‘Juno in her
Cups,’ Miss C--t--y; ‘The Early Horn,’ Mr. M. D---- B----y;
‘This is, Sir, a Jubilee,’ Mr. B--n--r; ‘Where, Which, and
Wherefore,’ Sig. L--at--ni; ‘Within my Breast,’ Mr. V.; ‘Sweet
Willy O,’ Mrs. B--d--y; ‘The Mulberry Tree,’ M--k--r; ‘Ye
Warwickshire Lads,’ Mr. V. and Mr. D.

Scene in Harlequin’s Invasion, Mr. D----d, Mr. P----ns, and Mr.
B--n--by.

Othello, Mr. B----y; Nurse, Mrs. P----t; Cymbeline, Mr.
H----st; Iachimo, Mr. P----r; Mr. Posthumous, Mr. R----h;
Pantomime, Mr. F----t and Mr. W----n.[121]

The Doors to be opened at Seven o’clock, and to begin at Eight.

“Admittance 2s. 6d. each, coffee or tea included.

“The Lecture will be repeated to-morrow and Saturday next.”

“June 23rd.

MARYBONE GARDENS.

“By Virtue of a Licence from the Board of Ordnance, a

MOST MAGNIFICENT FIREWORK

will be exhibited on Tuesday next at

MARYBONE GARDENS,

In honour of His Majesty’s Birthday.

“Further particulars will be advertised on Monday next.”

“Indeed, Sir!” is the general exclamation of a passenger in a stage coach, whenever any one observes that he had seen Garrick perform; at least, such an observation has fallen from many of my fellow-travellers, when I have asserted that I had had the pleasure of seeing that great actor. On the 25th of November, 1775, my father first took me to a play, and it was with one of Mr. Garrick’s orders, when he performed in _The Alchemist_.[122]

1776.--Marylebone Gardens opened this year on the 11th of May, by authority. The “Forge of Vulcan” was represented.[123] On the 16th of the same month the Fantoccini was introduced; on June 3rd Breslaw exhibited his sleight of hand, and also his company of singers, upon which occasion handbills were publicly distributed. Admittance 2s.[124] On the 25th Mrs. Stuart had a ball, and Signor Rebecca (well known for his productions at the Pantheon) painted some of the transparencies.[125]

Subscription tickets to the Gardens were issued at £1, 11s. 6d. to admit two persons every evening of performance. The Gardens were opened on Sunday evenings, with tea, coffee, and Ranelagh rolls. Caillot was the fire-worker this season.

This, as well as the preceding year, was particularly famous for the breed of Canary birds, consisting of Junks, Mealies, Turncrowns, and the Swallow-throats. They were all “fine in feather and full in song,” and could sing in the highest perfection many delightful strains, such as the nightingale’s, titlark’s, and woodlark’s, by candle-light as well as day. The breeders lived in Norwich, Colchester, Ipswich, etc. The sellers in London were principally publicans, and those most in vogue kept the signs of the “Queen’s Arms,” Newgate Street; the “Green Dragon,” Narrow Wall, Lambeth; the “Crown and Horse-shoe,” Holborn; the “Wheatsheaf,” Fleet Market; the “Marquis of Granby,” Fleet Market; the “Old George,” Little Drury Lane; and the “Black Swan,” Brown’s Lane, Spitalfields.[126]

It appears by the various advertisements from the numerous owners of cockpits, that the cruel sport of cock-fighting afforded high amusement this year to the unfeeling part of London’s inhabitants. Of the number of cockpits half a dozen will be quite enough to be recorded on this page.

1. The “Royal Cockpit,” in the Birdcage Walk, St. James’s Park. This Royal Cockpit afforded Hogarth characters for one of his worst of subjects, though best of plates.

2. In Bainbridge Street, St. Giles’s.

3. Near Gray’s Inn Lane.

4. In Pickled-Egg Walk.

5. At the New Vauxhall Gardens, in St. George’s in the East.

6. That at the “White Horse,” Old Gravel Lane, near Hughes’s late riding-school, at the foot of Blackfriars Bridge.[127]

Disputes having frequently occurred as to the characters in which Garrick last appeared, by persons not sufficiently in possession of documents at hand to enable them to decide their controversies, I am induced to conclude that such disputants will be pleased to see a statement of the nights of his acting, the titles of the plays in which he performed, and the names of the characters which he represented, as well as those of the principal actresses who performed with him during the last year of his appearance on the stage. The original play-bills of the time, collected by the late Dr. Burney, now in the British Museum, have enabled me to give this information in the following chronological order:--

Nights of Title of Play. Names of
Acting. Characters.

Jan. 18. The Alchemist. Abel Drugger, Mr. Garrick.
(Doll Common, by Mrs.
Hopkins.)

20. The Discovery Sir Anthony Branville.
(Lady Flutter, by Mrs.
Abington.)

22. Ditto. Ditto.

24. Ditto. Ditto.

26. Ditto. Ditto.

29. Ditto. Ditto.

30. The Provoked Wife Sir John Brute. (Lady
Brute, by Miss Younge.)

31. Ditto. Ditto.

Feb. 3. Zara Lusignan. (Zara, by Miss
Younge.)

5. The Provoked Wife Sir John Brute. (Lady
Brute, by Miss Younge.)

7. The Discovery Sir Anthony Branville.
(Lady Flutter, by Mrs.
Abington.)

9. Every Man in his Kitely. (Mrs. Kitely, Mrs.
Humour. Greville.)

12. Much Ado about Benedict. (Beatrice, by Mrs.
Nothing. Abington.)

14. Rule a Wife and Leon. (Estifania, by Mrs.
have a Wife. Abington.)

March 6. Zara Lusignan. (Zara, by Miss
Younge.)

7. Zara Lusignan. (Zara, by Miss
Younge.)

April 11. The Alchemist. Abel Drugger. (Doll Common,
by Mrs. Hopkins.)

16. Much Ado about Benedict. (Beatrice, by Mrs.
Nothing. Abington.)

25. Every Man in his Kitely. (Mrs. Kitely, by Mrs.
Humour. Greville.)

27. Hamlet Hamlet. (Ophelia, by Mrs.
Smith.)

30. The Provoked Sir John Brute. (Lady
Wife. Brute, Miss Younge.)

May 2. Rule a Wife and Leon. (Estifania, Mrs. Abington)
have a Wife.

7. The Stratagem. Archer. (Mrs. Sullen, Mrs.
Abington.)

9. Much Ado about Benedict. (Beatrice, by Mrs.
Nothing. Abington.)

13. King Lear King Lear. (Cordelia, Miss
Younge.)

16. The Wonder Don Felix. (Violante, by
Mrs. Yates.)

21. King Lear King Lear. (Cordelia, by
Miss Younge.)

23. The Suspicious Ranger. (Mrs. Strickland,
Husband. Mrs. Siddons; Clarinda,
Mrs. Abington.)

27. King Richard the King Richard. (Lady Anne
Third. (first time), Mrs. Siddons.)

30. Hamlet Hamlet. (Ophelia, by Mrs.
Smith.)

31. The Suspicious Ranger. (Mrs. Strickland,
Husband. Mrs. Siddons; Clarinda,
Mrs. Abington.)

June 1. Ditto. Ditto.

3. King Richard the King Richard. (Lady Anne,
Third. by Mrs. Siddons.)

5. King Richard the King Richard. (Lady Anne,
Third. by Mrs. Siddons.) By
command of their Majesties.

8. King Lear King Lear. (Cordelia, Mrs.
Younge.)

10. The Wonder Don Felix. (Violante, by
Mrs. Yates.)[128]

Notwithstanding it has been said that Mr. Garrick spoke slightingly of Mrs. Siddons’s talents, the above list incontrovertibly proves that he considered her powers sufficiently great to appear in principal characters with him no fewer than _six_ nights of the last _nine_ in which he performed.

I shall now subjoin a similar list of Mrs. Siddons’s nights of performance at Drury Lane Theatre, during the last year of Mr. Garrick’s acting.[129]

Jan. 13, 15, 17. Epicœne, or The Silent Woman (as a Collegiate Lady).

Feb. 1, 2, 3. The Blackamoor Washed White.

Between Feb. 15
and April 18
(22 nights). The Runaway (as Miss Morley).

May 23. The Suspicious Husband (as Mrs. Strickland).

24. The Runaway (as Miss Morley).

27. King Richard the Third (as Lady Anne).

31. The Suspicious Husband (as Mrs. Strickland).

June 1.

3. King Richard the Third (as Lady Anne).

5. Ditto. Ditto.

By command of their Majesties.

Of six plays of which there were no bills in the Burney collection, I was enabled to add instances of the performance of Mrs. Siddons on those nights from a portion of that truly rare and valuable library purchased by Government of the late Dr. Burney’s son for the British Museum.

Ladies this year wore goloshes, four distinct falls of lace from the hat to the shoulders, and rolled curls on either side of the neck: they continued to carry fans.[130]

1777.

I remember well that in an autumn evening of this year, during the time my father lived in Norton Street,[131] going with him and his pupils on a sketching party to what is now called Pancras Old Church; and that Whitefield’s Chapel in Tottenham Court Road, Montague House, Bedford House, and Baltimore House,[132] were then uninterruptedly seen from the churchyard, which was at that time so rural that it was only enclosed by a low and very old hand-railing, in some parts entirely covered with docks and nettles. I recollect also that the houses on the north side of Ormond Street commanded views of Islington, Highgate, and Hampstead, including in the middle distance Copenhagen-house, Mother Red-cap’s, the Adam and Eve, the Farthing Pie House, the Queen’s Head and Artichoke, and the Jew’s Harp House.[133]

Early in this year Spiridione Roma,[134] who had cleaned the pictures of the Judges then hanging in Guildhall, published a prospectus for Bartolozzi’s print from the portrait of Mary Queen of Scots in Drapers’ Hall, said to have been painted by Zucchero.[135]

1778.

At this period I began to think there was something in a prognostication announced to my dear mother by an old _star-gazer_ and _tea-grouter_,[136] that, through life, I should be favoured by persons of high rank; for, in this year, Charles Townley, Esq. (the collector of the valuable marbles which now bear his name in the British Museum), first noticed me when drawing in Mr. Nollekens’ studio, and pouched me half a guinea to purchase paper and chalk.[137] This kindness was followed up by Dr. Samuel Johnson, who was then sitting for his bust. The Doctor, after looking at my drawing, then at the bust I was copying, put his hand heavily upon my head, pronouncing “Very well, very well.” Here I frequently saw him, and recollect his figure and dress with tolerable correctness. He was tall, and must have been, when young, a powerful man: he stooped, with his head inclined to the right shoulder: heavy brows, sleepy eyes, nose very narrow between the eye-brows, but broad at the bottom; lips enormously thick; chin, wide and double. He wore a stock and wristbands; his wig was what is called a “_Busby_,” but often wanted powder. His hat, a three-cornered one; coats, one a dark mulberry, the other brown, inclining to the colour of Scotch snuff, large brass or gilt buttons; black waistcoat and small-clothes--sometimes the latter were corduroy; black stockings, large easy shoes, with buckles; his gait was wide and awkwardly sprawling; latterly he used a _hooked_ walking-stick, in consequence of his having saved the life of a young man as he was crossing from Queenhithe to Bankside.

One of the Doctor’s sticks of this shape brought me into a scrape. It was given to me by the late William Tunnard, Esq., of Bankside;[138] he received it from his friend Mr. Perkins;[139] it was one of many that the Doctor kept at Thrale’s. This stick I promised to my worthy and liberal friend the Rev. James Beresford, of Kibworth, Market Harborough;[140] but, alas! when I went to “stick-corner” somebody had walked it off. However, if this page should meet the eye of its present possessor, I hope, even should the “Bannister” I now rest upon be deemed useless by Time’s sandy-glass, his conscience may order the Johnsonian relic to be delivered to the above-named gentleman, whose property I declare it unquestionably to be. My present strong stick, named “_Bannister_,” was given to me when afflicted with the gout, by a fellow-sufferer, universally known under the friendly appellation of “_Honest Jack_.”

I once saw him follow a sturdy thief, who had stolen his handkerchief in Grosvenor Square, seize him by the collar with both hands, and shake him violently, after which he quickly let him loose; and then, with his open hand, gave him so powerful a smack on the face, that sent him off the pavement staggering.

“Pockets which might have almost held the two volumes of his folio dictionary.”]

Ladies appeared for the first time in riding-habits of men’s cloth, only descending to the feet; they also walked with whips like short canes, with a thong at the end. The elderly ladies continued to wear goloshes. Fans were in general use.

For the honour of female genius, be it here recorded, that, in the _Ladies’ Pocket-book_, published this year, an engraved group of nine whole-length female figures was published, viz. Miss Carter, Mrs. Barbauld, Angelica Kauffman, Mrs. Sheridan, Mrs. Lenox, Mrs. Montague, Miss More, Mrs. Macaulay, and Mrs. Griffith, each lady in the character of a Muse. Four Pocket-books appeared this year, entitled _Ladies’ Pocket-book_, _Ladies’ own Memorandum Book_, _Ladies’ Annual Journal_, and _Ladies’ Complete Pocket-book_.[141]

1779.

On Monday, February 1st, Taylor, the facetious pupil of Frank Hayman, and the old friend of Jonathan Tyers, lifted Nollekens’ studio door-latch, put in his head, and announced, “For the information of some of the sons of Phidias, I beg to observe, that David Garrick is now on his way to pay his respects to Poet’s Corner. I left him just as he was quitting the boards of the Adelphi.”[142] I am now employing the exact words he made use of, though certainly the levity was misapplied on so solemn an occasion.

I begged of my father, who then carved for Mr. Nollekens, to allow me to go to Charing Cross to see the funeral pass, which he did with some reluctance. I was there in a few minutes, followed him to the Abbey, heard the service, and saw him buried.[143]

Mr. Garrick died on the 20th of January, in the back room of the first floor, in his house in the Adelphi. The ceiling of the drawing-room was painted by Zucchi: the subject, Venus attired by the Graces. The chimneypiece in this room is said to have cost £800.[144]

On a night when Mr. Garrick was acting the part of Lear, one of the soldiers who stood on the stage blubbered like a child. Mr. Garrick, who was as fond of a compliment as most men, when the play was over, sent for the man to his room, and gave him half a crown. It was the custom formerly for two soldiers to stand on the stage during the time of performance, one at either end of the proscenium.

This year the Grotto Garden, Rosamond Row, near the London Spa, was kept by Jackson, a man famous for grottoes and fireworks. He had made great additions to it, viz. a new Mounted Fountain, etc. The admittance was sixpence.[145]

“She imprinted a kiss on my cheek, and said, ‘There, you little rogue.’”

_J. T. Smith_]

1781.

Although I could model and carve a little, I longed to be an engraver, and wished much to be placed under Bartolozzi, who then lived in Bentinck Street, Berwick Street.[146] My father took me to him, with a letter of introduction from Mr. Wilton, the sculptor. Mr. Bartolozzi, after looking at my imitations of several of Rembrandt and Ostade’s etchings, declared that he should have been glad some years previous to take such a youth, but that, in consequence of ill-treatment from some of his pupils, he had made up his mind to take no more. The Bishop of Peterborough (Dr. Hinchliffe),[147] one of my father’s patrons, then prevailed on Sherwin to let me in at half-price; and under his roof I remained for nearly three years. Here I saw all the beautiful women of the day; and, being considered a lively lad, I was noticed by several of them. Here I received a kiss from the beautiful Mrs. Robinson.

This impression was made upon me nearly as I can recollect in the following way:--It fell to my turn that morning, as a pupil, to attend the visitors, and Mrs. Robinson came into the room singing. She asked to see a drawing which Mr. Sherwin had made of her, which he had placed in an upper room. When I assured her that Mr. Sherwin was not at home, “Do try to find the drawing of me, and I will reward you, my little fellow,” said she. I, who had seen Rosetta, in _Love in a Village_, the preceding evening, hummed to myself, as I went upstairs, “With a kiss, a kiss, and I’ll reward you with a kiss.”

I had no sooner entered the room with the drawing in my hand, than she imprinted a kiss on my cheek, and said, “There, you little rogue.” I remember that Mrs. Darby, her mother, accompanied her, and had brought a miniature, painted by Cosway, set in diamonds, presented by a high personage, of whom Mrs. Robinson spoke with the highest respect to the hour of her dissolution.[148] The colour of her carriage was a light blue, and upon the centre of each panel a basket of flowers was so artfully painted, that as she drove along it was mistaken for a coronet.[149]

1782.

Early in the month of December, this year, Sherwin painted, engraved, and published a glorious portrait of Mrs. Siddons, in the character of the Grecian Daughter. That lady sat in the front room of his house, St. James’s Street. I obeyed Mr. Sherwin’s orders in raising and lowering the centre window-curtains, the shutters of the extreme ones being closed for the adjustment of that fine light and shade upon her face which he has so beautifully displayed in the print. This print, in consequence of a purse having been presented to Mrs. Siddons by her admirers in the profession of the Law, was dedicated to “The Gentlemen of the Bar.”[150]

“A glorious portrait.”]

By the liberality of my amiable friend, William Henderson, Esq.,[151] I am in possession of a cast taken by Lochee, the modeller, from the face of this wonderful actress, which I intend leaving to that invaluable gallery of theatrical portraits, so extensively formed by that favourite offspring of Nature, Charles Mathews,[152] Esq., at Kentish Town; but should that collection ever be dispersed, which I most heartily trust it never will be, then I desire that it may go to the Green-room of Drury Lane Theatre. To this bequest I subscribe my name,

Witnesses to this my declaration,

John Thomas Smith.
John Bannister.
-- Harley.[153]

1783.

One of the numerous subjects which I drew this year for Mr. Crowle,[154] was the old brick gateway entrance to St. Giles’s churchyard, then standing opposite to Mr. Remnent’s timber-yard, in which drawing I introduced the figure of old Simon, a very remarkable beggar, who, together with his dog, generally took their station against one of the gate-piers. This man, who wore several hats, at the same time suffered his beard to grow, which was of a dirty yellow-white. Upon his fingers were numerous brass rings. He had several waistcoats, and as many coats, increasing in size, so that he was enabled by the extent of the uppermost garment to cover the greater part of the bundles, containing rags of various colours; and distinct parcels with which he was girded about, consisting of books, canisters containing bread, cheese, and other articles of food; matches, a tinder-box, and meat for his dog; cuttings of curious events from old newspapers; scraps from Fox’s _Book of Martyrs_, and three or four dog’s-eared and greasy thumbed numbers of the _Gentleman’s Magazine_.

From these and such like productions he gained a great part of the information with which he sometimes entertained those persons who stopped to look at him.

When I knew him,--for he was one of my pensioners,--he and his dog lodged under a staircase in an old shattered building called “Rats’ Castle,” in Dyot Street, mentioned in _Nollekens and his Times_ as that artist’s rendezvous to discover models for his Venuses. Dyot Street has disappeared, and George Street is built on its site.[155] His walks extended to the entrances only of the adjacent streets, whither he either went to make a purchase at the baker’s or the cook’s shops. Rowlandson drew and etched him several times; in one instance Simon had a female placed before him, which the artist called “Simon and Iphigenia.” There is a large whole-length print of him, published by John Seago, with the following inscription:--

SIMON EDY, born at Woodford, near Thrapston, Northamptonshire, in 1709: died May 18, 1783.[156]

Respecting his last dog, for he had possessed several, which wicked boys had beguiled from him, or the skinners of those animals had snatched up, the following anecdote is interesting:--A Smithfield drover, whose dog’s left eye had been much injured by a bullock, solicited Simon to take him under his care till he got well. The mendicant cheerfully consented, and forthwith, with a piece of string, confined him to his arm; and when, by being more quiet, he had regained his health sufficiently to resume his services to his master, old Simon, with the most affectionate reluctance, gave him up, and was obliged to content himself with the pleasure of patting his sides on a market-day, when he followed his master’s drove to the slaughter-house in Union Street. These tender and stolen caresses from the hand which had bathed his wound, Rover would regularly stop to receive at St. Giles’s porch, and then hastily run to get up with the bullocks. Poor Simon, after missing the dog as well as his master for some weeks, was one morning most agreeably surprised to see the faithful animal crouch behind his feet, and with an uplifted and sorrowful eye, for he had entirely lost the blemished one, implore his protection by licking his beard, as a successor to his departed and lamented keeper. Rover followed Simon, according to Dr. Gardner’s idea, to “his last and best bedroom”;[157] or, according to Funeral Weever,[158] his “bed of ease.” Shortly before Simon’s death, I related to Mrs. Nollekens several instances of Rover’s attachment. “I think, Sir,” observed that lady, “you once told me that he had been a shepherd’s dog from Harrow-on-the-Hill. I don’t like a shepherd’s dog: it has no tail,[159] and its coat is as rough as the bristles of a cocoanut. No, Sir, my little French dog is my pet.” However, fortunately for poor Simon, the Hon. Daines Barrington[160] was present when Dr. Johnson’s Pekuah[161] made this silly remark, for he never after passed the kind-hearted mendicant without giving him sixpence. There was an elegy printed for poor Simon, with a woodcut portrait of him.

“Sir, I was once a Quaker, and have never left their principles.”]

Ugly and deficient in sight and tail as Rover certainly was, it is also as equally unquestionable that Simon never had occasion to carry him to Fox Court, St. James’s Street, for the recovery of his health, under the direction of Dr. Norman,[162] the canine physician, so strenuously recommended upon all occasions by George Keate, the poet,[163] and far-famed connoisseur. No, poor Rover was kept in health by being allowed to range the streets from six till nine, the hours in which the nightly stealers of the canine race, and the dexterous of all dentists, were on their way to Austin’s, at Islington,[164] to dispose of their cruel depredations upon many a true friend to the indigent blind, “to whom the blackbird sings as sweetly as to the fairest lady in the land.”

1784.

Mr. West, to whom I had sat for the head of St. John in his picture of the Last Supper, for the altar of St. George’s Chapel, Windsor,[165] frequently engaged me to bid for him at auctions, an honour also occasionally conferred on me for similar services by Sir Joshua Reynolds. It was during one of these commissions in this year, that the late Richard Wyatt, Esq., of Milton Place, Egham, Surrey, noticed me; he was then starting as a collector of pictures, prints, and drawings.[166] That gentleman kindly invited me to his house, and not only introduced me to his amiable family, but to his most intimate neighbours. He allowed me the use of a horse, to enable me more readily to visit the beauties of Windsor Park and Forest, the scenery of which so attracted and delighted me, that during one month’s stay I made nearly one hundred studies. The two Sandbys were visitors to my patron; and to Thomas, then Deputy Ranger of Windsor Great Park, a situation given to him by his Royal Highness William, Duke of Cumberland (Thomas Sandby had been engineer draughtsman to his Royal Highness at the battle of Culloden), I am indebted for my knowledge of lineal perspective. The Misses Wyatt were delightful persons, and much noticed at the Egham Balls, for one or two of which occasions I had the pleasure of painting butterflies on a muslin dress, and also imitating the “Sir Walter Raleigh,” the “Pride of Culloden,” and other curious and rare carnations, on tiffany, for their bouquets, which were then scented and much worn.

I was here introduced to Viscount Maynard, to whom Mr. Wyatt had been guardian. His Lordship married the celebrated Nancy Parsons,[167] and was a most spirited draughtsman of a horse. Among other gentlemen, I was also introduced to the late Sir Richard Colt Hoare, Bart.,[168] and the late Rev. George Huddesford,[169] of Oxford, Kett’s satirist, and the witty author of poems entitled _Salmagundi_, dedicated to Mr. Wyatt. Several of these I have often heard him most humorously sing, particularly those of “the renowned History and rare Achievements of John Wilkes.” The chorus ran thus:--

“John Wilkes he was for Middlesex,
They chose him knight of the shire;
And he made a fool of Alderman Bull,
And call’d Parson Horne a liar.”

“The Barber’s Nuptials,” which may be seen in the _Elegant Extracts_, and almost every other collection of fugitive poetry, was also written by him.[170]

Mr. Huddesford had studied under Sir Joshua Reynolds, and had copied many of the President’s pictures with tolerable ability, with an intention of pursuing the arts, but his master-talent was more conspicuously displayed in compositions of fruit, in which his representations of ripe and melting peaches, and the rich transparent grape, were inimitable. The late Sir George Beaumont, Bart., with whom Mr. Huddesford had been extremely intimate, was in possession of a remarkably fine specimen by him, which the worthy baronet frequently allowed to be copied.

Huddesford, after the death of Warton, chalked on the walls of the College--

“The glorious sun of Trinity is set,
And nothing left but farthing-candle Kett.”[171]

He published _The Elements of General Knowledge_, which were called, at Oxford “The Elements of General Ignorance”; and his last work, _Emily_, procured him the name of Emily Kett. His supposed resemblance to a horse was the occasion of much academical waggery:--his letter-box was often filled with oats; and when he wished to have his portrait taken, he was sent to the famous Stubbs,[172] the horse painter, who, on receiving him, and expecting to hear whether his commission was to be for a filly or a colt, was much surprised to find Kett pompously announce that he expected the likeness to be in full canonicals.

Samuel Woodforde (afterwards a Royal Academician)[173] was employed by Mr. Wyatt, in consequence of an introduction by Sir Richard Colt Hoare, Bart., to paint trees and landscapes on the panels of his drawing-room, mostly from scenes in Windsor Park and Forest. Mr. Wyatt was one of Opie’s early friends. He painted for that gentleman several of the Burrell and Hoare family; indeed, he was instrumental in bringing that artist out of his humble and modest lodging in Orange Court, Leicester Fields,[174] to his house in Queen Street, next door to that for many years occupied by that comic and most exemplary child of Nature, the late Miss Pope,[175] whose inimitable acting as Miss Allscrip, in _The Heiress_, not only delighted the public, but was deservedly complimented by its author, General Burgoyne, who at one time lived in Hertford Street, May Fair, in the house that had been inhabited by Lord Sandwich, and subsequently by R. B. Sheridan and Mr. Dent.[176]

This year, Mr. Flaxman, who then lived in Wardour Street, introduced me to one of his early patrons, the Rev. Henry Mathew, of Percy Chapel, Charlotte Street, which was built for him;[177] he was also afternoon preacher at St. Martin’s-in-the-Fields. At that gentleman’s house, in Rathbone Place, I became acquainted with Mrs. Mathew and her son, the late John Hunter’s favourite pupil. With that gentleman, in his youthful days, I had many an innocent frolic. I was obliged to him in several instances, and can safely say no one could excel him as an amiable friend, a dutiful son, or excellent husband. At Mrs. Mathew’s most agreeable conversaziones I first met the late William Blake,[178] the artist, to whom she and Mr. Flaxman had been truly kind. There I have often heard him read and sing several of his poems. He was listened to by the company with profound silence, and allowed by most of the visitors to possess original and extraordinary merit. A time will come when the numerous, though now very rare, works of Blake (in consequence of his taking very few impressions from the plates before they were rubbed out to enable him to use them for other subjects) will be sought after with the most intense avidity.[179] He was considered by Stothard and Flaxman (and will be by those of congenial minds, if we can reasonably expect such again) with the highest admiration. These artists allowed him their most unqualified praise, and were ever anxious to recommend him and his productions to the patrons of the Arts; but alas! they were not so sufficiently appreciated as to enable Blake, as every one could wish, to provide an independence for his surviving partner Kate, who adored his memory. The late Sir Thomas Lawrence has been heard to declare that England would be for ever immortalized by the productions of Sir Joshua Reynolds, Flaxman, and Stothard.

Mrs. Mathew was not only a great encourager of musical composers, particularly the Italians, but truly kind to young artists. She patronized Oram, Loutherbourg’s assistant: he was the son of _Old_ Oram, of the Board of Works, an artist whose topographical pictures possess considerable merit, and whose name is usually introduced in picture catalogues under the appellation of “_Old_ Oram.”[180]

Mr. Flaxman, in return for the favours he had received from the Mathew family, decorated the back parlour of their house, which was their library, with models (I think they were in putty and sand) of figures in niches, in the Gothic manner; and Oram painted the window in imitation of stained glass; the bookcases, tables, and chairs were also ornamented to accord with the appearance of those of antiquity.

Rathbone Place, at this time, entirely consisted of private houses, and its inhabitants were all of high respectability. I have heard Mrs. Mathew say that the three rebel lords, Lovat, Kilmarnock, and Balmerino, had at different times resided in it; and that she had also been informed that the floor of her parlours, which is now some steps above the street, was even with the floor of the recess under the front pediment of St. Paul’s Cathedral.

1785.

Many a summer’s evening, when I have been enjoying Runnymede, and its far surrounding variegated meadows, from the wooden seat of Cooper’s Hill (upon which were engraven numerous initials of lovers, and the dates of their eternal vows), little did I think that in my future days it would be in my power to state that I had made drawings of most of the parish churches as well as family mansions which were then in view, for the topographical collections of the Duke of Roxborough, Lord Leicester, the Hon. Horace Walpole, Mr. Bull, Mr. Storer, Dr. Lort, Mr. Haughton James, Mr. Crowle, and Sir James Winter Lake, Bart.[181] Several of these, which have since been distributed, I now and then meet with in the portfolios of more modern illustrators, and they bring to my recollection some truly pleasing periods. It was in the old house at Ankerwycke that I was introduced by Lady Lake to Lady Shouldham. It was at Old Windsor that I dined with Mrs. Vassal, and at Staines Bridge with the beautiful Miss Towry, since Lady Ellenborough. It was at Chertsey I was first introduced to Mr. Douglas, Colonel St. Paul, and those truly kind-hearted characters, Mr. Fox and Mrs. Chamberlain Clark. At Staines I was benefited by the skill of Dr. Pope;--at Harrow made known to Dr. Drury;--at Southgate to Alderman Curtis;--at Trent Park to Mr. Wigston;--at Forty Hill, Enfield, to the antiquary Gough;--at Bull’s Cross to the facetious Captain Horsley, brother to the Bishop of Rochester, and the Boddams;--at the “Firs,” Edmonton, to my ever-to-be-revered friend the late Sir James Winter Lake, Bart.;--at Weir Hall to the benevolent and highly esteemed Mr. Robert Jones, Mr. Webster and his friendly son;--at Bruce Castle to Mr. Townsend;--at Tottenham to Mr. John Snell, and to Mr. Samuel Salt. This gentleman informed me that he was one of the four who buried Sterne.[182] Of the friendly inhabitants of these houses, and many others to whom I had the pleasure of being known, within the extensive view from Cooper’s Hill, very few are now living.

During the Races on Runnymede, I have often seen their late Majesties George the Third and Queen Charlotte driving about in an open four-wheeled chaise, enjoying the pleasures of the course on equal terms with the visitors. I remember to have been spoken to three times by his Majesty; once on a very foggy morning at a stile near Clewer, when I stepped back to give a gentleman, who had nearly approached it in the adjoining field, the preference of coming over first; but upon his saying, “Come over, come over,” I knew the voice to be the King’s, consequently I took off my hat, and obeyed. His Majesty observed in his quick manner, when getting over, “A thick fog, thick fog.” Another time, when I was drawing an old oak in Windsor Park, the King and Queen drove very near me in their chaise, and one of his Majesty’s horses shied at my paper; upon which the King called out to me, “Shut your book, sir, shut your book!”

The last time I was noticed by the King, I must say his Majesty appeared to be a little startled, as well he might. It was under the following circumstances. Wishing to make a drawing of one of the original stalls in St. George’s Chapel, Windsor, before they were finally taken down, a shilling prevailed upon one of the workmen to lock me in during his dinner-hour. However, it so happened that his Majesty, who frequently let himself into the Chapel at that time to look at the progress of the works, did not perceive me, as I stood in a corner, but on his return from the altar, he asked, “Who are you, sir? Oh! you startled my horse in the park the other day. What are you about?” I then held up my drawing; and his Majesty, who must have noticed my embarrassment, did me the honour to say, “Very correct; I believe you are at Mr. Wyatt’s,--a very good man;--I have a high regard for him and all his family.”

During the time I was studying the scenery of Windsor Park, Mr. Thomas Sandby, who was busily engaged in placing the numerous stones to form the representation of rocks and caverns at the head of the Virginia Water, in Windsor Park, frequently dug for stones in Bagshot Heath. Fortunately he discovered one of an immense size, which he thought would afford him a massive breadth in his composition, but it was so large he was under the necessity of breaking it with gunpowder; however, fortune favoured his design by blowing it into two nearly equal parts, so that he was enabled to join them on their destined spot to great advantage as to general effect. This was Mr. Thomas Sandby’s second attempt at the water-head;[183] he had in the first instance failed by using only sand and clay, for which failure that worthy man was not only nicknamed “Tommy Sandbank,” but roughly scourged by the throng of Huddesford, who composed a song upon the occasion, from which I have selected the following verses:--

1.

When Tom was employ’d to construct the Pond Head,
As he ponder’d the task, to himself thus he said:
“Since a head I must make, what’s a head but a noddle?
So I think I had best take my own for a model.”
Derry down, etc.

2.

Then his work our projector began out of hand,
The outside he constructed with rubbish and sand;
But brains on this head had been quite thrown away,
Those he kept for himself, so he lined it with clay.

5.

But the water at length, to his utter dismay,
A bankruptcy made, and his head ran away;--
’Twas a thick head for certain; but, had it been thicker,
No head can endure that is always in liquor.

12.

Hence, by way of a Moral, the fallacy’s shown
Of the maxim that two heads are better than one;--
For none e’er was so scurvily dealt with before,
By the head that he made and the head that he wore.
Derry down, etc.

“A chiel’s amang ye takin’ notes.”]

For many years the back parlour of the “Feathers”[184] public-house (a sign complimentary to its neighbour, Frederick, Prince of Wales, who inhabited Leicester House), which stood on the side of Leicester Fields, had been frequented by artists, and several well-known amateurs. Among the former were Stuart,[185] the Athenian traveller; Scott,[186] the marine painter; old Oram, of the Board of Works;[187] Luke Sullivan,[188] the miniature painter, who engraved that inimitable print from Hogarth’s picture of the “March to Finchley,” now in the Foundling Hospital; Captain Grose,[189] the author of _Antiquities of England_, _History of Armour_,[190] etc.; Mr. Hearne,[191] the elegant and correct draughtsman of many of England’s Antiquities (so beautifully engraved by his amiable friend Byrne), Nathaniel Smith, my father, etc. The amateurs were Henderson, the actor; Mr. Morris, a silversmith; Mr. John Ireland, then a watchmaker in Maiden Lane, and since editor of Boydell’s edition of Dr. Trusler’s work, _Hogarth Moralized_; and Mr. Baker, of St. Paul’s Churchyard, whose collection of Bartolozzi’s works was unequalled.[192] When this house, the sign of the “Feathers,” was taken down to make way for Dibdin’s Theatre, called the “Sans Souci,” several of its frequenters adjourned to the “Coach and Horses” public-house in Castle Street, Leicester Fields; but in consequence of their not proving customers sufficiently expensive for that establishment, the landlord one evening venturing to light them out with a farthing candle, they betook themselves to Gerard Street, and thence to the “Blue Posts” in Dean Street, where the club dwindled into two or three members, viz. Edridge, the portrait draughtsman; Alexander, of the British Museum; and Edmunds, the upholsterer, who had been undertaker to the greater part of the club.[193]

Mr. Baker, the gentleman before mentioned, being a single man, and sometimes keeping rather late hours, was now and then accompanied by a friend half way home, by way of a walk. It was on one of these nights, that, just as he and I were approaching Temple Bar, about one o’clock, a most unaccountable appearance claimed our attention,--it was no less an object than an elephant, whose keepers were coaxing it to pass through the gateway. He had been accompanied by several persons from the Tower Wharf with tall poles, but was principally guided by two men with ropes, each walking on either side of the street, to keep him as much as possible in the middle on his way to the menagerie, Exeter Change; to which destination, after passing St. Clement’s Church, he steadily trudged on with strict obedience to the commands of his keepers. I had the honour afterwards of partaking of a pot of Barclay’s Entire with this same elephant, which high mark of his condescension was bestowed when I accompanied my friend the late Sir James Winter Lake, Bart., to view the rare animals in Exeter Change--that gentleman being assured by the elephant’s keeper that if he would offer the beast a shilling, he would see the noble animal nod his head and drink a pot of porter. The elephant no sooner had taken the shilling, which he did in the mildest manner from the palm of Sir James’s hand, than he gave it to the keeper, and eagerly watched his return with the beer. The elephant then, after placing his proboscis to the top of the tankard, drew up nearly the whole of the then good beverage. The keeper observed, “You will hardly believe, gentlemen, but the little he has left is quite warm;” upon this we were tempted to taste it, and it really was so. This animal was afterwards disposed of for the sum of one thousand guineas.[194]

“The first square inhabited by the great.”

_J. T. Smith_]

1786.

Possibly the present frequenters of print sales may receive some little entertainment from a description of a few of the most singular of those who constantly attended the auctions during my boyish days. The elder Langford, of Covent Garden, introduced by Foote as Mr. Puff, in his farce of _The Minor_,[195] I well remember; yet by reason of my being obliged to attend more regularly the subsequent evening sales at Paterson’s and Hutchins’s--next-door-neighbour auctioneers, on the north side of King Street, Covent Garden,[196] I am better enabled to speak to the peculiarities of their visitors than those of Mr. Langford.

It was in 1783, during the sales of the extensive collection of Mr. Moser, the first keeper of the Royal Academy,[197] and Mr. Millan, bookseller at Charing Cross,[198] that I noticed the following remarkable characters. I shall, however, first endeavour to describe the person of Paterson, a man much respected by all who really knew him; but perhaps by none with more sincerity than Doctor Johnson, who had honoured him by standing godfather to his son Samuel, and whom he continued to notice as he grew up with the most affectionate regard, as appears in the letters which the doctor wrote in his favour to his friends Sir Joshua Reynolds and Mr. Humphrey, printed by Boswell.[199] Mr. Paterson was in height about five feet eight inches, and stooped a little in the shoulders. When I first knew him, he was a spare man, and wore a powdered clubwig, similar to that worn by Tom Davies, the bookseller and biographer of Garrick, of whom there is an engraved portrait. Paterson was really a walking library, and of manners precisely coinciding with the old school. I remember that by a slight impediment in his speech, he always pronounced the letter R as a V; for instance, Dart’s _History of Canterbe_v_y_, and a dromedary, he pronounced a d_wa_mmeda_v_y; notwithstanding this defect, he publicly lectured on the beauties of Shakspeare.

Mr. Gough,[200] the Editor of Camden’s _Britannia_, was the constant frequenter of his book-sales. This antiquary was about the same height as the auctioneer, but in a wig very different, as he wore, when I knew him, a short shining curled one. His coat was of “formal cut,” but he had no round belly; and his waistcoat and smallclothes were from the same piece. He was mostly in boots, and carried a swish-whip when he walked. His temper I know was not good, and he seldom forgave those persons who dared to bid stoutly against him for a lot at an auction: his eyes, which were small and of the winky-pinky sort, fully announced the fretful being. As for his judgment in works of art, if he had any it availed him little, being as much satisfied with the dry and monotonous manner of Old Basire,[201] as our late President West was with the beautiful style of Woollett and Hall.

Dr. Lort,[202] the constant correspondent of Old Cole,[203] was a man of his own stamp, broad and bony, in height nearly six feet, of manners equally morose, and in every respect just as forbidding. His wig was a large _Busby_, and usually of a brown appearance, for want of a dust of powder. He was chaplain to the Duke of Devonshire; and as he wore thick worsted stockings, and walked anyhow through the mud, considered himself in no way obliged to give the street-sweepers a farthing. He had some wit, however, but it was often displayed in a cowardly manner, being mostly directed towards his little opponent, Doctor Gossett,[204] who was unfortunately much afflicted by deformity, and of a temper easily roused by too frequent a repetition of threepenny biddings at Paterson’s. Paterson sold his books singly, and took threepence at a bidding.

Hutchins was about five feet nine inches, but in appearance much shorter by reason of his corpulency. His high forehead, when compared with a perpendicular, was at an angle of forty-five. He was what Spurzheim would call a _simple_ honest man: his wife was of the same build, but most powerfully possessed the organ of inquisitiveness, which induced her to be a constant occupant of a pretty large and easy chair, by the side of the fire in the auction-room, in order that she might see how business was going on. Mr. and Mrs. Hutchins appeared so affectionately mutual in all their public conclusions, that Caleb Whitefoord, the witty wine-merchant, one of the print-sale visitors, attempted to flourish off the following observation as one of his invention: “You see,” said he to Captain Baillie, “Cocker is not always correct; _one_ and _one_ do not in this instance make _two_.”[205]

Caleb Whitefoord[206] was what is usually called a slight-built man, and much addicted when in conversation to shrug up his shoulders. He had a thin face, with little eyes; his deportment was gentlemanly, though perhaps sometimes too high for his situation in life. His dress, upon which he bestowed great attention, was in some instances singular, particularly in his hat and wig, which were remarkable as being solitary specimens of the Garrick School. He considered himself _a first-rate_ judge of pictures, always preferring those by the _old masters_, but which he endeavoured to improve by touching up; and when in this conceited employment, I have frequently seen him fall back in his chair, and turn his head from one shoulder to the other, with as much admiration of what he had done, as Hogarth’s sign-painter of the Barley-mow in his inimitable print of Beer Street.

ETCHED BY J. T. SMITH]

Captain William Baillie[207] was also an amateur in art; he suffered from an asthma, which often stood his friend by allowing a lengthened fit of coughing to stop a sentence whenever he found himself in want of words to complete it. When not engaged in his duties as a commissioner of the Stamp Office, he for years amused himself in what he called _etching_; but in what Rembrandt, as well as every true artist, would call scratching. He could not draw, nor had he an eye for effect. To prove this assertion, I will “_end him at a blow_,” by bringing to my informed reader’s recollection the captain’s execrable plate, which he considered to be an improvement upon Rembrandt’s “Three Trees.” Mr. West classed him amongst the conceited men.--“Sir,” said the venerable President, “when I requested him to show me a fine impression of Rembrandt’s Hundred Guilder print, he placed one of his own _restored_ impressions before me, with as much confidence as my little friend Edwards[208] attempts to teach Perspective in the Royal Academy.” Captain Baillie commonly wore a camlet coat, and walked so slowly and with such measured steps, that he appeared like a man heavily laden with jack-boots and Munchausen spurs; and whenever he entered an auction-room, he generally permitted his cough to announce his arrival.

Mr. Baker,[209] an opulent dealer in lace, was nightly to be found bidding for the choicest impressions, which he seldom allowed any antagonist, however powerful, to carry away. He was well-proportioned, and though sometimes singular in his manner, and too negligent in his dress, was a most honourable man.

Mr. Woodhouse, of Tokenhouse Yard, was also a bidder for fine things; he did not possess so much of the milk of human kindness as Mr. Baker; indeed, his manners were at times a little repulsive, although he had been many years principal cashier in Sir George Prescott’s banking-house. He was an extensive collector of Cipriani’s drawings.[210]

Mr. Musgrave,[211] of Norfolk Street, frequently attended auctions of prints, but particularly those of pictures; he was an accomplished gentleman in his address, and most feelingly benevolent in his actions. His figure was short, his features pleasing, and he seldom went abroad without a rose in his button-hole. When I state that no man could have had fewer enemies, I think even the descendants of “Vinegar Tom”[212] will never haunt my bedside.

There was another truly polite and kind-hearted attendant at Hutchins’s sales, Mr. Pitt, of Westminster. The manners of this gentleman were precise, and he wore a large five-story white wig.

The next collector at this period was Mr. Wodhull,[213] the translator of Euripides. He was very thin, with a long nose and thick lips; of manners perfectly gentlemanly. The great singularity of his appearance arose, perhaps, from his closing his coat from the first button, immediately under his chin, to the last, nearly extending to the bottom of his deep-flap waistcoat-pockets. He seldom spoke, nor would he exceed one sixpence beyond the sum which he had put down in his catalogue, to give for the articles he intended to bid for; and though he frequently went away without purchasing a single lot, or even speaking to any one during the whole evening, he always took off his hat, and bowed low to the company before he left the auction-room.

Mr. Rawle, an accoutrement-maker, then living in the Strand, was a visitor: he was the friend of Captain Grose, and the executor of Thomas Worlidge,[214] the etcher. In his early days he had collected many curious and valuable articles. His cabinets contained numerous interesting portraits in miniature of Elizabethan characters. He was a professed Commonwealth man, and possessed many of the Protector’s, or, according to some writers, the usurper’s letters. He also prided himself upon having the leathern doublet, sword, and hat in which Oliver dissolved the Parliament, and showed a helmet that he could incontrovertibly prove had belonged to him. He likewise frequently expatiated for a considerable time upon a magnificent wig, which he said had been worn by that Merry Monarch, King Charles the Second.[215] This singular character never would allow more than a halfpenny-worth of vegetables to be put upon his table, though they were ever so cheap; and when they were above his price, he went without.[216]

Another singular character of the name of Beauvais, who at one time had flourished at Tunbridge Wells as a miniature-painter,[217] attended the evening auctions. This man, who was short and rather lumpy in stature, indeed nearly as wide as he was high, was a native of France, and through sheer idleness became so filthily dirty in his person and dress, that few of the company would sit by him. Yet I have seen him in a black suit with his sword and bag, in the evening of the day on which he had been at Court, where for years he was a constant attendant. This “Sack of Sand,” as Suett the actor generally called him, sat at the lower end of the table; and as he very seldom made purchases, few persons ventured to converse with him. He frequently much annoyed Hutchins by the loudest of all snoring; and now and then Doctor Wolcot would ask him a question, in order to indulge in a laugh at his mode of uttering an answer, which Peter Pindar declared to be more like the gobbling of a turkey-cock than anything human. He lived in a two-pair-of-stairs back room in St. James’s Market; and, after his death, Hutchins sold his furniture. I recollect his spinet, music-stool, and a few dog’s-eared sheets of lessons sold for three-and-sixpence.