Chapter V: Part THE SECOND (3)

“I heard it was in Colchester; I shall endeavour to see it
before I come to town, which will be soon. He was generally
the butt of the company, and his wig was to them a fund of
amusement, as it was often snatched from his head and thrown
about the room, etc.; but enough of this. I shall now give you
a few lines verbatim, which my friend Dr. Hamilton, of Ipswich,
was so good as to send me; though it amounts to nothing, I am
obliged to him for taking the commission.

“‘I have not been neglectful of the inquiries respecting
Gainsborough, but have learned nothing worth your notice.
There is no vale or grove distinguished by his name in this
neighbourhood. There is a place up the river-side where he
often sat to sketch, on account of the beauty of the landscape,
its extensiveness, and richness in variety, both in the fore
and back grounds. It comprehended Bramford and other distant
villages on one side; and on the other side of the river
extended towards Nacton, etc. Friston alehouse must have been
near, for it seems he has introduced the Boot signpost in many
of his best pictures. Smart and Frost[278] (two drawing-masters
in Ipswich) often go there now to take views; whether they be
inspired from pressing the same sod with any of this great
painter’s genius, you are a better judge than I am. Farewell.’

“This, my dear friend, is the little all I have yet gained,
but though I have been unsuccessful, it does not follow that I
should relinquish my inquiries. If you want to know the exact
time of his birth, I will take a ride over to Sudbury, and look
into the register.[279] There is an exceeding fine picture of
his painting at Mr. Kilderby’s, in Ipswich.

“Since I last wrote to you I have made another attempt at
etching; have succeeded a little better, but yet fall very
short. I shall send you an impression soon.

“I doubt there is nothing in my last parcel of cottages worth
your notice; am obliged to you for the little sketch after
Hobbima. I understand the present exhibition is a very good
one; I understand Sir G. Beaumont excels. My friend Gubbins
informs me that you have finished Lady Plomer’s Palace,[280]
and that you have made a sketch from the fire in the Minories;
surely it must have put our friend C----h to the rout.[281]
Thine sincerely,

“JOHN CONSTABLE.”

Mrs. Pope, the actress, died this year in Half Moon Street, Piccadilly, and was buried in the cloisters of Westminster Abbey.[282]

Being anxious to add something more to the memory of this amiable character, I applied to her surviving husband; when that gentleman very obligingly favoured me with the following copy of a record, which he made soon after her death:--

“The best of women and the best of wives drew her last breath at half-past two o’clock on Wednesday morning, the 15th of March, 1797.

“Her illness lasted about seven weeks; her complaint palsy, beginning in her head, and depriving her of the use of her left hand. Her death was an awful lesson; her loss irreparable.”[283]

In the room with the bow-window on the first-floor of the same house, Mr. Pope[284] produced some excellent portraits in crayons, of persons of the first fashion, many of them little inferior in every respect to those of the celebrated Francis Cotes;[285] the inimitable whole-length portrait of Grattan, of which there is an engraving, will be a lasting and mutual record of the artist and patriot. The following letter, given to me by my late worthy friend Dr. Mathew, was written by Mrs. Pope, to her friend Mrs. Mathew, of Rathbone Place:--

“DUBLIN, _July 6th_.

“I flatter myself that my ever loved and most highly esteemed
friends will be pleased to receive the assurance of my health,
and to know that I am in the possession of as much comfort as
_my_ mind is capable to receive out of England. Thank God, all
things as yet go on well, and the exertions of business do not
seem to do that injury to my health which I had great reason
to fear. We have acted six nights, _Jane Shore_ first, a _very
great_ house, _well received_, and Pope’s speech to _Gloster_
twice repeated, which I think proves in a great degree the
loyalty of the people.

“_Gloster’s_ speech, thus:--

“‘What if some patriot for the public good
Should vary from your scheme,--new mould the State?

“‘_Hastings._--Curse on the innovating hand that ’tempts it!
Remember him, the villain, righteous Heaven,
In thy great day of vengeance: blast the traitor
And his pernicious counsels; who for wealth,
For power, the pride of greatness, or revenge,
Would plunge his native land in civil wars.’

“It is impossible to describe the effect this speech had on
the audience. I think you would have been gratified to have
heard it; it is the first time a speech in a tragedy was ever
repeated. Perhaps it proves the loyalty of this city. I hear
there are sad doings in the country parts of Ireland; I trust
we shall meet with nothing of it: we stay in Dublin all this
month, then go to Cork. Our second characters were _Mr._ and
_Mrs. Beverley_, highly esteemed and greatly spoken of; third,
_Belvidera_ and _Jaffier_--with good success. Their last new
play, _How to grow Rich_, twice; and yesterday _Elizabeth_
and _Essex_, which, by the way, Pope acted well. Next week
_Columbus_. I count the nights, though now I trust I shall be
able to go through them all. So much for myself.

“And now, my friends, let me beg that you will favour me with
a little account of yourselves. I ardently wish to hear that
you are all well and happy, in the full possession of that
_true felicity_, which your goodness of heart so justly merits.
God bless you both! Mr. Pope unites with me in respectful
remembrance to the Baron, and affectionate esteem to the whole
family, particularly in respect and affection to Mrs. and Miss
Mathew. Adieu: I don’t like to leave off, and yet I hardly
think you can read what I have already written.

“Ever your most affectionate

“E. POPE.”

1798.

This year, in consequence of the death of Mr. Green,[286] who had been drawing-master to Christ’s Hospital, I stood candidate for the situation; and, though I was unsuccessful, my testimonials being so flattering, I cannot withstand the temptation of printing them, whatever may be said by my enemies, who may not be able to produce anything half so honourable.

“May 10th, 1798.

“We whose names are subscribed, having seen specimens of
drawings by John Thomas Smith, are of opinion that he is
qualified for the office of drawing-master in the school of
Christ’s Hospital.

I not only think him qualified as an artist, but greatly to be
respected as a man.

BENJAMIN WEST, PREST. R.A.

Being not personally acquainted with Mr. J. T. Smith, I have
examined his performances, and I think him well qualified for
the above office.

J. F. RIGAUD, R.A.

I have known him from a child, and think him an honest man and
well _qualified_ for the office.

JOSEPH NOLLEKENS, R.A.

I have long been acquainted with Mr. J. T. Smith’s merits as a
good artist and a worthy man.

JOHN FLAXMAN, Jun.,
Sculptor, Associate R.A.;
R.A. of Florence and Carrara.

We subscribe to the above opinion.--

W. BEECHEY, R.A. elect.
W. HAMILTON, R.A.
THOMAS STOTHARD, R.A.
JOHN RUSSELL, R.A.
J. BACON, R.A.
T. BANKS, R.A.
JAMES BARRY, R.A.,
Professor of Painting.
JOHN OPIE, R.A.
R. COSWAY, R.A.
JAMES NORTHCOTE, R.A.
JOS. FARINGTON, R.A.
RICHARD WESTALL, R.A.
HENRY FUSELI, R.A.
H. COPLEY, R.A.

I have long known Mr. Smith as an artist and respectable man,
and believe him to be perfectly capable of filling the office
he solicits with honour.

P. REINAGLE, A.

We subscribe to the above opinion.

FRANCIS BARTOLOZZI, R.A.
RICHARD COLLINS.
CALEB WHITEFOORD.

We have known Mr. Smith for upwards of fourteen years, and we
have found him an able drawing-master to our daughter, whose
drawings he has never touched upon; a practice too often
followed by drawing-masters in general: and we believe him to
be a truly valuable member of society, as a husband, father,
and good man.

JAMES WINTER LAKE.
JESSY LAKE.

We can never subscribe our names with greater satisfaction,
than in signifying the very high opinion we have of Mr. Smith,
both as to his talents and character.

JAMES LAKE.
ATWILL LAKE.

I fully subscribe to the above opinion,

RICHARD WYATT, Milton Place.

I believe Mr. Smith to be a very deserving man, and well
qualified for the situation he is ambitious of obtaining.

JOHN CHARLES CROWLE.

Thomas Allen has a great respect for Mr. Smith, both as a man
and an artist.

JOSEPH WILLIAMSON, A.M.,
Vicar of St. Dunstan in the West.

I am personally acquainted with Mr. J. T. Smith, and esteem him
one of the best of men.

JOHN BOYDELL, Alderman.

I am happy to bear testimony to the character of Mr. Smith as a
man, and to find him so highly respected as an artist.

T. THOMSON.

I have long known Mr. Smith to be an ingenious artist, an able
instructor, and a benevolent and honest man.

JOHN CRANCH.

I have known Mr. Smith many years, and believe him very capable
of filling the office of drawing-master to Christ’s Hospital
with credit to himself and advantage to the charity.

HENRY HOWARD.

J. SWAINSON.
T. WHITTINGHAM.
J. NIXON, Basinghall Street.
HENRY SMITH, Drapers’ Hall.
ALEX. LEAN SMYTH, the Hudson’s Bay Company.
ARTHUR BALL, }
JOHN BROOME, } Hudson’s Bay House
GEORGE WHITEHEAD, Cateaton Street.

Providence, which placed me next door to Mr. J. T. Smith for
several years, made me intimately acquainted with a faithful
husband, an affectionate father, and an honest man.

CHARLES GOWER, M.D.”

“I reflect with horror upon such a fellow as I am, and with such a kind of art, with house-rent to pay and employers to look for.”]

1799.

On the 4th of August this year, died at his mansion in Rutland Square, Dublin, the Right Hon. James, Earl of Charlemont,[287] who was born 18th of August, 1728. This gentleman was truly a nobleman, for he was one of the greatest patrons of the fine arts this country could boast of. He was the great friend of Hogarth; bought many of his pictures, particularly that most elegant performance so justly celebrated under the title of “The Lady’s Last Stake,” so admirably engraven by Mr. Cheesman.[288] The following is a copy of an original letter given to me by a late worthy friend; it is addressed to the late Sir Lawrence Parsons, Bart.,[289] and written by Lord Charlemont within eight months of his Lordship’s death.

“DUBLIN, _12th Jan., 1799_.

“MY DEAR SIR LAWRENCE,--As nothing has ever affected me
with more painful astonishment than the shameful apathy and
consequent silence of the country at the present desperate
crisis of our fate as a nation, so have I experienced few more
real pleasures than in having found, by the public papers,
that a meeting of your county, at least, has been called; a
pleasure which, though principally derived from my ardent
zeal for the public service, is still further increased by
my friendship for you, as I am too well acquainted with your
sentiments to doubt for a moment that such call has been in the
highest degree satisfactory and flattering to your feelings.
Neither can I entertain the slightest apprehension that the
result of any meeting of Irishmen will be other than the firm
and spirited condemnation of a measure, replete with every
disgrace and danger in their country. Never, indeed, were my
beloved countrymen so forcibly called upon as at the present
emergency, maturely to form their opinions and to speak aloud
the dictates of their hearts. Their ancestors call upon them
from their graves to preserve those national rights which they
have transmitted to them. Their children from their cradles,
with mute but prevailing eloquence, beseech them to protect
and to defend their birthrights; and, with a more awful voice,
their country calls upon them not by their silence to betray
her dearest interests, or by their supineness to leave _her_
enslaved whom they found free! Thus invoked, is it possible
that Irishmen should remain silent?

“But surely I need dwell no longer upon a subject with which
you are so much better acquainted; and, indeed, the state of
my health, and particularly of my eyes, is such as to render
it impossible for me to write more.--I must therefore, however
unwillingly, conclude by assuring you that I am, and ever
shall be, my dearest Parsons, your most faithful and truly
affectionate

“CHARLEMONT.”

In this year, James Barry, the painter of those mighty pictures on the walls of the great room of the Society of Arts, received a severe blow by having his name erased from those of the Royal Academicians by King George III., who believed what had been represented respecting the Professor’s conduct in the Royal Academy.[290]

“BUCKINGHAM STREET, FITZROY SQUARE.

“DEAR SIR,--Permit me to thank you for the satisfaction of
having seen that curious monument of English antiquity, St.
Stephen’s Chapel, Westminster, when the ancient architecture
and painting were discovered by the removal of the modern
wainscot, which formed the interior of the House of Commons.

“Notwithstanding this branch of antiquity has never been
my particular pursuit, I am highly gratified to see such
materials in the general history of art rescued from oblivion
by publication, for which, Sir, we are indebted to your zeal
and industry, as some of the interesting pictures were effaced
soon after their discovery, by ignorant curiosity; in addition
to the careless and ruinous manner in which the discovery
itself was made, of which circumstances I complained to several
persons on the spot, particularly to the Rev. Mr. Brand,[291]
Secretary to the Antiquarian Society.

“As the best testimony I can give to the fidelity and ability
of your publication, give me leave to subscribe my name for
a copy of the work, and to offer such assistance as I can
give, in general observations on the arts of design, when St.
Stephen’s Chapel was in its splendour.

“I remain, dear Sir, with great regard, your much obliged

“JOHN FLAXMAN.”

The admission of one hundred additional members into the House of Commons, arising from the union with Ireland, obliged Mr. Wyatt to cut away the side-walls of the room internally, in order to make recesses for two extra benches.[292]

1801.

In the autumn of this year I passed a most agreeable day with the Hon. Hussey Delaval,[293] at his house near Parliament Stairs.[294] This learned and communicative gentleman, among whose works that on Colours is generally considered the most interesting, was as friendly to me, as the jealousy of that well-known odd compound of nature, my antagonist, John Carter,[295] who was of our party, would allow; for with that artist’s opinions as to Gothic architecture, Mr. Delaval so entirely coincided, that he employed him to provide the ornamental decorations of his house, which were mostly in putty mixed with sand, and in some instances cast from the decorations of several Gothic structures, particularly Westminster Abbey. This house was originally fire-proof, the floors being of stone or composition, and the window-sashes of cast iron, but since the death of Mr. Delaval, wood has been substituted for the sashes and other parts.

The apartments are ten in number, besides small offices. The lower rooms consist of two halls: in the north wall of the first are three pretty Gothic recesses for seats, for servants or persons in waiting; the second hall is filled with Gothic figures placed upon brackets under canopies. The chimney-piece and other parts of the dining-parlour looking over the Thames, are decorated in a similar manner; the kitchen is on the same floor towards the north. The staircase leading to the first-floor is a truly tasteful little specimen, not equalled by anything at Strawberry Hill, which, by reason of Mr. Bentley’s[296] fancy mouldings interfering so often with parts which are really chaste, must be considered a _mule_ building. The drawing-room and library also look over the water. On the same floor are two bed-chambers towards the west; above which are two attics, with a door opening upon the embattled leads over the drawing-room. Upon these leads we took our wine--attended by female servants only, as Mr. Delaval never would allow a man-servant to enter the house, but with messages--and here enjoyed the glowing, Cuyp-like effect of the sun upon west-country barges laden either with blocks of stone or fresh-cut timber, objects ever picturesque on the water. Mr. Delaval was so pleased with this scenery, and the pencil of my friend G. Arnald, Associate of the Royal Academy, that he bespoke two pictures of him, Views up and down the River, the figures in which, by the order of Mr. Delaval, were painted by his friend G. F. Joseph, A.R.A. They were exhibited at Somerset House.[297]

1802.

How often do we find peculiar attachments and propensities in the minds of persons of reported good understanding. Within my time, many men have indulged most ridiculously in their eccentricities. I have known one who had made a pretty large fortune in business, get up at four o’clock in the morning and walk the streets to pick up horseshoes which had been slipped in the course of the night, with no other motive than to see how many he could accumulate in a year. I also remember a rich soap-boiler who never missed an opportunity of pocketing nails, pieces of iron hoops, and bits of leather, in his daily walks; and these he would spread upon a large walnut-tree three-flapped dining-table, with a similar view to that of the above-mentioned gentleman. This wealthy citizen would often put on a red woollen cap, in shape like those worn by slaughter-house men, and a waggoner’s frock, in order to stoke his own furnace; after which, he would dress, get into his coach, and, attended by tall servants in bright blue liveries, drive to his villa, where his hungry friends were waiting his arrival.

The allusion to these peculiarities, which certainly are harmless, will serve by way of prelude to a more extraordinary one. The late Duke of Roxburgh,[298] whose wonderful library will ever be spoken of with the highest delight by bibliomaniacs, had an attachment to the portraits of malefactors as closely as Rowland Hill to his petted toad. I made many drawings of such characters for his Grace during their trials or confinement; that which I made this year, was of Governor Wall, whose trial produced much discussion.[299] Having been deprived of admission at the Old Bailey on the day of his trial, I went to the Duke, and he immediately wrote to a nobleman high in power, for an order to admit me to see the unfortunate criminal in the condemned cell, which application was firmly, and, in my humble opinion, very properly, refused. I walked home, where I found Isaac Solomon waiting to show me some of his improved black-lead pencils. Isaac, upon hearing me relate to my family the disappointment I had experienced, assured me that he could procure me a sight of the Governor, if I would only accompany him in the evening to Hatton Garden, and smoke a pipe with Dr. Forde, the Ordinary of Newgate,[300] with whom he said he was particularly intimate. Away we trudged; and, upon entering the club-room of a public-house, we found the said Doctor most pompously seated in a superb masonic chair, under a stately crimson canopy placed between the windows. The room was clouded with smoke, whiffed to the ceiling, which gave me a better idea of what I had heard of the Black Hole of Calcutta than any place I had seen. There were present at least a hundred associates of every denomination; of this number, my Jew, being a favoured man, was admitted to a whispering audience with the Doctor, which soon produced my introduction to him.

“Man’s life is all a mist, and in the dark our fortunes meet us.” Standing beneath a masonic lustre, the Doctor immediately recognised me as a friend of John Ireland, but more particularly of his older crony, Atkinson Bush; he requested me to take a pipe, to me a most detestable preliminary. He then whispered, “Meet me at the felon’s door at the break of day.” There I punctually applied, but, notwithstanding the order of the Doctor, I found it absolutely necessary, to protect myself from an increasing mob, to show the turnkey half-a-crown, who soon closed his hand and let me in. I was then introduced to a most diabolical-looking little wretch, denominated “the Yeoman of the Halter,” Jack Ketch’s head man. The Doctor soon arrived in his canonicals, and with his head as stiffly erect as a sheriff’s coachman when he is going to Court, with an enormous nosegay under his chin, gravely uttered, “Come this way, Mr. Smith.”

As we crossed the Press-yard a cock crew; and the solitary clanking of a restless chain was dreadfully horrible. The prisoners had not risen. Upon our entering a stone-cold room, a most sickly stench of green twigs, with which an old round-shouldered, goggle-eyed man was endeavouring to kindle a fire, annoyed me almost as much as the canaster fumigation of the Doctor’s Hatton Garden friends.

The prisoner entered. He was death’s counterfeit, tall, shrivelled, and pale; and his soul shot so piercingly through the port-holes of his head that the first glance of him nearly petrified me. I said in my heart, putting my pencil in my pocket, God forbid that I should disturb thy last moments! His hands were clasped, and he was truly penitent. After the Yeoman had requested him to stand up, “he pinioned him,” as the Newgate phrase is, and tied the cord with so little feeling, that the Governor, who had not given the wretch the accustomed fee, observed, “You have tied me very tight;” upon which Dr. Forde ordered him to slacken the cord, which he did, but not without muttering. “Thank you, Sir,” said the Governor to the Doctor, “it is of little moment.” He then observed to the attendant, who had brought in an immense iron shovelful of coals to throw on the fire, “Ay, in one hour that will be a blazing fire;” then, turning to the Doctor, questioned him: “Do tell me, Sir: I am informed I shall go down with great force; is it so?” After the construction and action of the machine had been explained, the Doctor questioned the Governor as to what kind of men he had at Goree. “Sir,” he answered, “they sent me the very riffraff.” The poor soul then joined the Doctor in prayer; and never did I witness more contrition at any condemned sermon than he then evinced.

The sheriff arrived, attended by his officers, to receive the prisoner from the keeper. A new hat was then partly flattened on his head; for, owing to its being too small in the crown, it stood many inches too high behind. As we were crossing the Press-yard, the dreadful execrations of some of the felons so shook his frame, that he observed, “the clock had struck;” and, quickening his pace, he soon arrived at the room where the sheriff was to give a receipt for his body, according to the usual custom. Owing, however, to some informality in the wording of this receipt, he was not brought out so soon as the multitude expected; and it was this delay which occasioned a partial exultation from those who betted as to a reprieve, and not from any pleasure in seeing him executed. For the honour of England, I may say we are not so revengeful as some of our Continental neighbours have been; as Mrs. Cosway[301] assured me that she was in the room with David, then esteemed the first painter in Paris, at the time that he and Robespierre were in power; and that when the Reporter, from the guillotine, came in to announce eighty as the number of persons executed that morning, David, in the greatest possible rage, exclaimed, “No more!”

HE COMPOSED “RULE BRITANNIA”]

After the execution, as soon as I was permitted to leave the prison, I found the Yeoman selling the rope with which the malefactor had been suspended, at a shilling an inch; and no sooner had I entered Newgate Street, than a lath of a fellow, past threescore years and ten, who had just arrived from the purlieus of Black Boy Alley,[302] woe-begone as _Romeo’s_ apothecary, exclaimed,--“Here’s the identical rope at sixpence an inch.” A group of tatterdemalions soon collected round him, most vehemently expressing their eagerness to possess bits of the cord. It was pretty obvious, however, that the real business of this agent was to induce the Epping butter-men to squeeze in with their canvas bags, which contained their morning receipts in Newgate market.[303] A little further on, at the north-east corner of Warwick Lane, stood “Rosy Emma,” exuberant in talk, and hissing-hot from Pie Corner,[304] where she had taken her morning dose of gin and bitters; and as she had not waited to make her toilet, was consequently a lump of heat.

“Now, my readers, I have been told,
Love wounds by heat, and Death by cold;
Of size she would a barrow fill,
But more inclining to sit still.”

Possibly she might have been a descendant of Orator Henley, and I make no doubt at one time passionately admired by her Henry. I can safely declare, however, that her cheeks were purple, her nose of poppy-red or cochineal.

“The lady was pretty well in case,
But then she’d humour in her face;
Her skin was so bepimpled o’er,
There was not room for any more.”

Her eyes reminded me of Sheridan’s remark on those of Dr. Arne, “Like two oysters on an oval plate of stewed beet-root.”[305] I regretted most exceedingly, while she was cutting her rope and twisting her mouth, that most of her once-famed ivories had absconded; but it gave me inexpressible delight to see that her lips were not at all chapped. If Emma’s lips had been ever so deeply cracked, she could not have benefited by my friend “Social Day” Coxe’s[306] Conservatoria, as it was not then sold.

Emma in her tender blossom, I understand, assisted her mother in selling rice-milk and furmety to the early frequenters of Honey Lane market; and in the days of her full bloom, new-milk whey in White Conduit Fields, and at the Elephant and Castle. She must have been, as to her outward charms, during her highest flattery, little inferior to the beautiful Emma Lyon;[307] but in her last stage, perhaps not altogether unlike the heroine so voluptuously portrayed by my late highly talented friend, the Rev. George Huddesford, in his poem entitled “The Barber’s Nuptials.”[308] Rosy Emma, for so she was still called, was the reputed spouse of the Yeoman of the Halter, and the cord she was selling as the identical noose was for her own benefit. This was, according to the delightful writer, Charles Lamb,

“For honest ends, a most dishonest seeming.”[309]

“Romney! expert infallibly to trace …
The mind’s impression too on every face.”

_Cowper_]

Now, as fame and beauty ever carry influence, Emma’s sale was rapid; had she been as lamentable as a Lincolnshire goose after plucking-time, “Misery’s Darling,” or like Alecto when at the entrance of Pandemonium, she would have had a sorry sale.[310] This money-trapping trick, steady John, the waiter at the Chapter Coffee-house, assured me was invariably put in practice whenever superior persons or notorious culprits had been executed. Then to breakfast, but with little or no appetite; however, after selecting one of Isaac Solomon’s H.B.’s, I made a whole-length portrait of the late Governor by recollection, which Dr. Buchan, the flying physician of the “Chapter”[311] frequenters, and several of the Pater-Noster vendors of his _Domestic Medicine_, considered a likeness; at all events, it was admitted into the portfolio of the Duke, with the following acknowledgment written on the back: “Drawn by memory.”

1803.

About this time, in order to see human nature off her guard, I agreed with a good-tempered friend of mine, one of Richard Wilson’s scholars, to perambulate Bartholomew Fair, which we did in the evening, after taking pretty good care to leave our watches at home. Our first visit was to a show of wild beasts, where, upon paying an additional penny, we saw the menagerie-feeder place his head within a lion’s mouth.

Our attention was then arrested by an immense baboon, called _General Jacko_, who was distributing his signatures as fast as he could dip his pen in the ink, to those who enabled him to fill his enormous craw with plums, raisins, and figs. The next object which attracted our notice was a magnificent man, standing, as we were told, six feet six inches and a half, independent of the heels of his shoes. The gorgeous splendour of his Oriental dress was rendered more conspicuous by an immense plume of white feathers, which were like the noddings of an undertaker’s horse, increased in their wavy and graceful motion by the movements of the wearer’s head.

As this extraordinary man was to perform some wonderful feats of strength, we joined the motley throng of spectators at the charge of “only threepence each,” that being vociferated by Flockton’s[312] successor as the price of the evening admittance.

After he had gone through his various exhibitions of holding great weights at arm’s-length, etc., the all-bespangled master of the show stepped forward, and stated to the audience that if any four or five of the present company would give, by way of encouraging the “Young Hercules,” _alias_ the “Patagonian Samson,” sixpence apiece, he would carry them all together round the booth, in the form of a pyramid.

With this proposition my companion and myself closed; and after two other persons had advanced, the fine fellow threw off his velvet cap surmounted by its princely crest, stripped himself of his other gewgaws, and walked most majestically, in a flesh-coloured elastic dress, to the centre of the amphitheatre, when four chairs were placed round him, by which my friend and I ascended, and, after throwing our legs across his lusty shoulders, were further requested to embrace each other, which we no sooner did, cheek-by-jowl, than a tall skeleton of a man, instead of standing upon a small wooden ledge fastened to Samson’s girdle, in an instant leaped on his back, with the agility of a boy who pitches himself upon a post too high to clear, and threw a leg over each of our shoulders; as for the other chap (for we could only muster four), the Patagonian took him up in his arms. Then, after _Mr. Merryman_ had removed the chairs, as he had not his full complement, Samson performed his task with an ease of step most stately, without either the beat of a drum, or the waving of a flag.

I have often thought that if George Cruikshank, or my older friend Rowlandson, had been present at this scene of a pyramid burlesqued, their playful pencils would have been in running motion, and I should have been considerably out-distanced had I then offered the following additional description of our clustered appearance. Picture to yourself, reader, two cheesemonger, ruddy-looking men, like my friend and myself, as the sidesmen of Hercules, and the tall, vegetable-eating scarecrow kind of fellow, who made but one leap to grasp us like the bird-killing spider, and then our fourth loving associate, the heavy dumpling in front, whose chaps, I will answer for it, relished many an inch thick steak from the once far-famed Honey Lane market,[313] all supported with the greatest ease by this envied and caressed _Pride_ of the _Fair_, to whose powers the frequenters of Sadler’s Wells also bore many a testimony.

In the year 1804, Antonio Benedictus Van Assen engraved a whole-length portrait of this Patagonian Samson, at the foot of which his name was thus announced, “_Giovanni Baptista Belzoni_.” This animated production was executed at the expense of the friendly Mr. James Parry, the justly celebrated gem and seal engraver, of Wells Street, Oxford Street.

“Belzoni _is_ a grand traveller, and his English is very prettily broken.”

_Lord Byron_]

After the close of Bartholomew Fair, this Patagonian was seen at that of Edmonton, exhibiting in a field behind the Bell Inn, immortalised by Cowper in his “Johnny Gilpin;” and I have been assured that, so late as 1810, at Edinburgh, he was, during his exhibition in Valentine and Orson, soundly hissed for not handling his friend the bear, at the time of her death, in an affectionate manner. Several years rolled on, and he was nearly forgotten in England, until the year 1820, and then many people recognised in the Egyptian traveller Belzoni the person who had figured away at fairs, as I have stated. The following anecdotes, in private circulation, of this extraordinary man may not be considered wholly uninteresting.

He was a native of Padua, and educated in order to become a profound monk; but, during the frenzy of war, being noticed by the French army, in consequence of his commanding figure, to be admirably well calculated for a fugleman, prudently avoided seizure for so deadly a service, by getting together what few things time would permit him, and so left Rome. I should have stated to the reader that, upon his arrival in London in the year 1803, he walked into Smithfield during Bartholomew Fair time, where he was seen by the master of a show, who, it is said, thus questioned his _Merry Andrew_:--“Do you see that tall-looking fellow in the midst of the crowd? he is looking about him over the heads of the people as if he walked upon stilts; go and see if he’s worth our money, and ask him if he wants a job.” Away scrambled Mr. _Merryman_ down the monkey’s post, and, “as quick as lightning,” conducted the stranger to his master, who, being satisfied of his personal attractions, immediately engaged, plumed, painted, and put him up.

The reader will readily conceive that a man like Belzoni, seriously educated for the duties of the Church, and accustomed to associate with people of good manners, could with no little reluctance endure the vulgar society his pecuniary circumstances alone compelled him to associate with. However, after the expiration of nine years, in the course of which time he had married and saved money, he and his wife were enabled to visit Portugal, Spain, and Malta, from which place they embarked for Egypt. Fortunately for Belzoni, the wife he had chosen more than equally shared his numerous dangers, by spiritedly joining in all his enterprises, which some of my readers will recollect are most delightfully described by herself in what she styles “A Trifling Account,” printed at the end of her husband’s _Travels in Egypt, Nubia_, etc.[314]

As most of my readers have perused this work, I shall only state that, shortly after the arrival of Belzoni and his wife in England, my friend Dr. Richardson,[315] the traveller, who had been kind to them in every possible way when in Egypt, introduced me to them when they lodged in Downing Street, Westminster. Here I not only had great pleasure in seeing my steady supporter again, but enjoyed most pleasantly the conversation I had with his enterprising partner, whose sensible and intrepid cast of features well accorded with her artless, unsophisticated, and interesting “Trifling Account,” to which I have alluded.

In 1784, when Sir Ashton Lever petitioned the House of Commons for a lottery for his museum, Mr. Thomas Waring made the following declaration before the Committee to whom the petition was referred:--“That he had been manager of Sir Ashton’s collection ever since it had been brought to London in the year 1775; that it had occupied twelve years in forming; and that there were upwards of twenty-six thousand articles. That the money received for admission amounted, from February 1775 to February 1784, to about £13,000, out of which £660 had been paid for house-rent and taxes.” Sir Ashton Lever proposed that his whole museum should go together, and that there should be 40,000 tickets at one guinea each.[316]

Few people would believe that so lately as this year, the Duke of Dorset, Lord Winchilsea, Lord Talbot, Colonel Tarleton, Mr. Howe, Mr. Damer, Hon. Mr. Lennox, and the Rev. Mr. Williams played at cricket in an open field near White Conduit House.[317] Who could have conjectured that Du Val’s Lane, branching from Holloway, within memory so notoriously infested with highwaymen that few people would venture to peep into it even in mid-day, should, in 1831, be lighted with gas?[318]

In 1784, Nathaniel Hillier’s[319] collection of prints was sold by Christie: they were well selected as to impression, but much deteriorated in value by Mr. Hillier’s attachment to strong coffee, with which he had stained them. It has been acknowledged by one of the family that, what with the expense of staining, mounting, and ruling, his collection only brought them one-fifth of the cost of the prints in the first instance.

Dr. Samuel Johnson also died this year [1784]; during the time the surgeon was engaged in opening his body, Sir John Hawkins, Knight, was in the adjoining room seeing to the weighing of the Doctor’s tea-pot, in the presence of a silversmith, whom Sir John, as an executor, had called upon to purchase it.[320]

1805.

“Mr. Townley presents his compliments to Mr. West, and requests
that, when he sees Mr. Lock[321] at his house, he will be so
good as to deliver to him the packet sent herewith, containing
two prints from Homer’s head,--Mr. T. not knowing where Mr.
Lock lives in town. The drawing representing the ‘Triumphs
of Bacchus’ by Rubens,[322] in the eighth night’s sale at
Greenwood’s, differing much from the bas-relief in the Borghese
Villa, from which Caracci is supposed to have composed his
picture of that subject in the Farnese Gallery,[323] Mr. T. has
no intention to bid for it.

“PARK ST., WESTMINSTER, _21st Feb. 1787_.”

* * * * *

“MY DEAR SIR,--I return you many thanks for your kind
information respecting the sale of the marbles at the late Lord
Mendip’s house at Twickenham.[324] Had I been there and in
spirits, the fine Oriental alabaster vase would not have been
sold so cheap, and would probably have come to Park Street.
I should also have probably purchased the medallion of an
elderly man over a chimney-piece. I shall be glad to find out
who bought it, and at what price. I should also have liked the
ancient fountain. Pray, what was it sold for, and who bought it?

“I mean to take a farewell look at the _robaccia_ at Wilton, to
verify my former notes on that collection.

“I flatter myself that many bad symptoms of my long disorder
begin to abate, though it still, I feel, has strong hold upon
me. I shall remain here about a fortnight longer, then return
to Park Street.

“If you will give me the pleasure of a line from you, you may
direct to me, No. 36, Milsom Street, Bath. I am, sir, ever most
faithfully yours, etc.

“C. TOWNLEY.

“BATH, 36, MILSOM STREET, _11th June 1802_.”

1806.

In the month of June this year, the late Atkinson Bush,[325] then of Great Ormond Street, brought to my house Mr. Parton, vestry-clerk of St. Giles’s-in-the-Fields, with a view to obtain such particulars of that parish as I was acquainted with, he being then busily engaged in collecting materials for its history. In the course of conversation, I was astonished to find that it was his intention to have a plan of the parish engraved for his work, purporting to have been taken between the years twelve and thirteen hundred, a period more than two centuries and a half earlier than Aggas’s plan of London, and from which I could not help observing that in my opinion he had most glaringly borrowed. When he assured me he had not, my request was then to know his authority for producing such a plan, but for that question he was not provided with an answer, nor did he appear to be willing to be probed by further interrogatories. To my great astonishment, when Mr. Parton’s book made its appearance, I not only found this plan professing to be between the years twelve and thirteen hundred so minutely made out, with every man’s possession in the parish most distinctly attributed, but every plot of garden so neatly delineated, with the greatest variety of parterres, walks with cut borders, as if the gardener of William III. or Queen Anne had then been living. As Mr. Parton omitted to give any authority for the introduction of so wonderfully early a piece of ichnography, I applied to several leading men in the parish of St. Giles, but could gain no intelligence whatever respecting it: so much for this plan of St. Giles’s parish, as produced by Mr. Parton.[326]

1807.

On the 7th of November of this year, aged 65, died at Rome the celebrated Angelica Kauffmann, who was appointed a member of the Royal Academy by King George III. at its foundation.[327] That she was a great favourite with the admirers of art may be inferred by the numerous engravings from her productions by Bartolozzi and the late William Wynn Ryland.[328] Her pictures are always tasteful, and often well composed, clearly and harmoniously coloured, and extremely finished with a most delicate but spirited pencil. Indeed, her talents were so approved by her brother Academicians, that those gentlemen allotted her compartments of the ceiling in their council-chamber at Somerset Place for decoration, in which most honourable and pleasing task she so well acquitted herself, that her performances are the admiration of every visitor, but more particularly those who possess the organ of colour. She etched numerous subjects; the best impressions are those before the plates were aqua-tinted.

When I was a boy, my father frequently took me to Golden Square to see her pictures, where she and her father had for many years resided in the centre house on the south side. There are several portraits of her, but none so well-looking as that painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds, of which there is an engraving by Bartolozzi.

Angelica Kauffmann was a great coquette, and pretended to be in love with several gentlemen at the same time.[329] Once she professed to be enamoured of Nathaniel Dance;[330] to the next visitor she would divulge the great secret that she was dying for Sir Joshua Reynolds. However, she was at last rightly served for her duplicity by marrying a very handsome fellow personating Count de Horn. With this alliance she was so pleased, that she made her happy conquest known to her Majesty Queen Charlotte, who was much astonished that the Count should have been so long in England without coming to Court. However, the real Count’s arrival was some time afterwards announced at Dover; and Angelica Kauffmann’s husband turned out to be no other than his _valet de chambre_. He was prevailed upon subsequently to accept a separate maintenance.[331] After this man’s death she married Zucchi, and settled in Rome. During her residence there, she was solicited by the artists in general, but more particularly by the English, to join them in an application to this country for permission to bring their property to England duty free; and as I possess the original letter which that lady wrote to Lord Camelford[332] upon the subject, I cannot refrain from inserting it.

“MY LORD,--I do not know, if by having lived several years
in England, and having the honour to be a R.A., I may be
sufficiently entitled to join with the artists of Great Britain
in their request, or better to say, in returning thanks to your
Lordship for patronising them in a point so very essential,
which is to assist them in obtaining the free importation of
their own studies, models, or designs, collected for their
improvement during their own stay abroad.

“The heavy duty set upon articles of that nature causes that
the artist, whose circumstances do not permit him to pay
perhaps a considerable sum, must either be deprived of what
he keeps most valuable, or buy his own works at the public
sale at the Custom House. This I have myself experienced on my
coming to England,--and I mention it here, in consequence of
the opinion of some of my friends, who think that my assertion,
added to what other artists may have reported to that purpose,
may be of some use to obtain their object.

“I heard from Dr. Bates,[333] and Mr. Reveley,[334] the
architect, how very much your Lordship is inclined to support
the earnest supplication drawn up by some of the artists, which
proves your Lordship to be a protector of the fine arts, and
of those who profess them. Consequently I have some reason to
hope that I may not be judged too impertinent for addressing
these lines to you. I have the honour to be, with the greatest
respect, my Lord, your Lordship’s most obliged humble servant,

“ANGELICA KAUFFMANN.

“TRINITÀ DE’ MONTI, _the 26th Dec. 1787_.”

This year, my laborious work, entitled _Antiquities of Westminster_, was delivered to its numerous and patient subscribers.[335] The following congratulatory letter is one of the many with which I have been honoured by its extensive and steady friends:--

“LICHFIELD CATHEDRAL CLOSE,
_Thursday, 2nd July 1807_.

“Mr. White[336] presents his best respects to Mr. Smith.
His precious little box, from some unaccountable delay in
Cambridge, did not arrive till yesterday evening, accompanied
by a letter, which receives this early acknowledgment. Though
Mr. White has not had leisure to inspect critically the
literary portion of Mr. Smith’s elegant and splendid volume,
yet his whole time since it came has been occupied in studying
and admiring its numerous, accurate, and highly finished
engravings, which alone give it a superiority to any book of
art’s illustration which Mr. White can at present recollect.
Mr. Smith’s offer of a few loose prints is peculiarly kind and
acceptable; and Mr. White so far avails himself of it.

“Mr. White cannot refrain expressing his concern and
astonishment, that Mr. Smith should have experienced so
bitter a recession from friendly promises and assistance,
as Mr. H. obliged him to feel; at the same time, the candid
and unequivocal statement which Mr. Smith has made, must
exonerate him from the world’s reproof, and account for the
long protraction of the work. Mr. White cannot but indulge
the hope, that so noble an addition to our architectural
antiquities, so admirable an elucidation of every _precedent_
history of London, will most amply remunerate the pocket,
though no success can recompense that anxiety of mind which
Mr. Smith has undergone. The beautiful Cathedral of Lichfield
has been recently ornamented with some very fine ancient
painted windows, from the dissolved convent near Lille. If Mr.
Smith would publish them in colours, Mr. White thinks that
the subscription would fill rapidly; and if Mr. Smith would
but come down and look at them, Mr. White would be happy in
extending every accommodation, and rendering every assistance
to him. When the windows are known, the plan will be certainly
adopted by other artists of inferior competency.”

1808.

On the first of November this year, George Dance, the Royal Academician, signed the dedication page of his first volume of portraits of eminent men drawn in pencil, with parts touched lightly with colour from life, and engraved by William Daniell, A.R.A., now a Royal Academician (he died 1837), consisting of thirty-six in number. The second volume, which also contained thirty-six in number, was published in 1814.[337]

Fuseli, when viewing several of these portraits, was heard by one of Mr. Dance’s sitters to make the following observations upon the likenesses. Of Benjamin West he said, “His eye is like a vessel in the South Sea,--I can just spy it through the telescope;” of that of Joseph Wilton the sculptor, he observed, “How simple are the thinking parts of this man’s head, and how sumptuous the manducatory;” of that of James Barry he made the following declaration, “This fellow looks like the door of his own house;” of that of Northcote he exclaimed, “By _Cot_, he is looking sharp for a rat;” and of that of Sir William Chambers, he observed, drawling out his words, “What a _grate_, heavy, _humpty-dumpty_, this leaden fellow is.”[338]

“By _Cot_, he is looking out sharp for a rat.”

_Fuseli_]

In this sort of wit Fuseli had a formidable force of gunnery, and his shot seldom missed its destination; however, it cannot shatter the above work, as most of the portraits are of worthies too well known even to need it necessary to engrave their names under them.

The greater portion of these likenesses are highly valuable to the illustrators of Boswell’s _Life of Johnson_, and, indeed, most of the modern biographical publications.

1809.

I cannot more pleasantly close this year than by inserting a copy of one of John Bannister’s bills for his BUDGET;[339] and as the original is now an extreme rarity, I conclude that some of those “_gude folks_” who witnessed the delightful humour displayed by that gifted son of Thespis, may possibly be better enabled to recollect how much they giggled twenty-three years ago.

“Oh the days when I was young!”

The type of the long lines in the original bill, which is of a small folio size, being too small to be read without spectacles, I have necessarily, in some instances, been obliged to increase the number of lines in the following copy.

“THEATRE, IPSWICH.

POSITIVELY FOR ONE NIGHT ONLY.

Patronised by their Majesties,
Before whom Mr. Bannister had the honour of performing,
At the Queen’s House, Frogmore.

The Public are most respectfully informed,
On Wednesday, the 29th of November, 1809,
Will be presented,

A MISCELLANEOUS DIVERTISEMENT,
With considerable vocal and rhetorical variations, called

BANNISTER’S BUDGET;
OR, AN ACTOR’S WAYS AND MEANS!

Consisting of
Recitations and Comic Songs;
Which will be sung and spoken by
MR. BANNISTER, of the late Theatre Royal, Drury Lane.

“The above Divertisement is entirely new; the prose and verse
which compose it having been written _expressly_ for the
occasion of MR. BANNISTER’S TOUR, by Messrs. Colman, Reynolds,
Cherry, T. Dibdin, C. Dibdin, Jun., and others.

The whole of the Entertainment has been arranged and revised by
MR. COLMAN.

The songs (which Mr. Reeve, Jun., will accompany on the
pianoforte,) are principally composed by Mr. Reeve.

PROSPECTUS OF THE DIVERTISEMENT.

“Part I.--Exordium.--Mr. Bannister’s Interview with
Garrick.--Garrick’s Manner attempted by Mr. Bannister in a
Shaving Dialogue.--Mr. Doublelungs in the Clay-pit.--Macklin’s
advice to his Pupils.--The Ship’s Chaplain, and Jack Haulyard,
the Boatswain; or, Two Ways of Telling a Story.--Sam
Stern.--The Melodramaniac, or Value of Vocal Talent.--Mr. and
Mrs. O’Blunder, or, Irish Suicide!

“Part II.--Superannuated Sexton.--Original Anecdotes of
a late well-known eccentric Character.--Trial at the Old
Bailey.--Cross-Examination.--Counsellor Garble.--Barrister
Snip-snap.--Serjeant Splitbrain.--Address to the Jury.--Simon
Soaker, and Deputy Dragon.

“Part III.--Club of Queer Fellows!--President Hosier.--Speech
from the Chair.--Mr. Hesitate.--Mr. Sawney Mac Snip.--Musical
Poulterer.--Duet between a Game Cock and a Dorking Hen.--Mr.
Molasses.--Mr. Mimé.--Monotony exemplified.--Mr. Kill-joy, the
Whistling Orator.--Susan and Strephon.--Budget closed.

Rotation of Comic Songs to be introduced on this particular
occasion.

“IN PART I.

Vocal Medley.
Captain Wattle and Miss Roe (by particular desire).
Tom Tuck’s Ghost.
Song in Praise of Ugliness!
The Debating Society.

“IN PART II.

The Deserter; or, Death or Matrimony.
Miss Wrinkle and Mr. Grizzle,
and
The Tortoiseshell Tom Cat.

“IN PART III.

THE TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO; OR,
FINE FLEECY HOSIERY.
The Marrow-fat Family.
Jollity Burlesqued, and
Beggars and Ballad-singers.

The doors to be opened at six o’clock, and to begin precisely
at seven. Boxes, Upper Circle, 4s.; Lower Circle, 3s.; Pit,
2s., Gallery, 1s.

N.B. Care has been taken to have the Theatre well aired.”

1810.

My reader will find by the following copy of a paper written by the Rev. Stephen Weston, B.D.,[340] and read at the Society of Antiquaries’ meeting, 25th January 1810, that the term Swan-_hopping_ is to be considered a popular error.

“It appears in the Swan-rolls, exhibited by the Right Honourable Sir Joseph Banks, that the King’s were doubly marked, and had what was called two nicks, or notches. The term, in process of time, not being understood, a double animal was invented, unknown to the Egyptians and Greeks, with the name of the Swan with Two Necks. But this is not the only ludicrous mistake that has arisen out of the subject, since Swan-upping, or the taking up of Swans, performed annually by the Swan companies, with the Lord Mayor of London at their head, for the purpose of marking them, has been changed by an unlucky aspirate into Swan-hopping, which is not to the purpose, and perfectly unintelligible.”[341]

1811.

In the summer of this year, the Earl of Pembroke allowed me to copy a picture at Wilton, painted by the celebrated architect, Inigo Jones. It is a view of Covent Garden in its original state, when there was a tree in the middle. The skill with which he has treated the effect is admirable.

There is also, in that superb mansion, a companion picture of Lincoln’s Inn Fields by the same artist.

1812.

The political career of John Horne Tooke, Esq., is well known, and the fame of his celebrated work, entitled the _Diversions of Purley_, will be spoken of as long as paper lasts.