amusements? there's no snug spot now for a dog-tight or a badger-bait.
Earl Grosvenor has converted all the green lanes into Macadamised roads,
and covered the turf with new brick tenements. No taking a pleasant
toodle with a friend now along the sequestered banks, or shooting a few
sparrows or fieldfares in the neighbourhood of the _five chimnies_{3}
not a space to be found free from the encroachments of modern
speculators, or big enough for a bowling alley or a cricket match.
Tothill-fields have altogether disappeared; and the wand of old Merlin
would appear to have waved over and dispersed the most trifling vestiges
and recollections of the past. A truce with your improvements!" said
Crony, combating my attempt to harmonise his feelings; "tell me what
increases the lover's boldness and the maiden's tenderness more than
the fresh and fragrant air, the green herbage, and the quiet privacy of
retired spots, where all nature yields a delightful inspiration to the
mind. There where the lovers find delight, the student finds repose,
secluded from the busy haunts of men, and yet able, by a few strides, to
mingle again at pleasure with the world, the man of
3 Since called the Five-fields, Chelsea; and a favourite
resort of the Westminster scholars of that time, but now
built upon.
~70~~contemplation turns aside to consult his favourite theme, and
having run out his present stock of thoughtful meditation, wheels him
round, and finds himself one of the busy group again.{4} As we advance
4 The Rogent's-park, formerly called Marylebone, is an
improve-ment of this nature. It was originally a park, and
had a royal palace in it, where, I believe, Queen Elizabeth
occasionally resided. It was disbarked by Oliver Cromwell,
who settled it on Colonel Thomas Harrison's regiment of
dragoons for their pay; but at the restoration of Charles
II. it passed into the hands of other possessors; from which
time it has descended through different proprietors, till,
at length, it has reverted to the Crown, by whose public
spirit a magnificent park is secured to the inhabitants of
London. The expense of its planting, &c. must have been
enormous; but money cannot be better laid out than on
purposes of this lasting benefit and national ornament.
The plan and size of the park is in every respect worthy of
the nation. It is larger than Hyde-park, St. James's, and
the Greenpark together; and the trees planted in it about
twelve years ago have already become umbrageous. The water
is very extensive. As you are rowed on it, the variety of
views you come upon is admirable: sometimes you are in a
narrow stream, closely overhung by the branches of trees;
presently you open upon a wide sheet of water, like a lake,
with swans sunning themselves on its bosom; by and by your
boat floats near the edge of a smooth lawn fronting one of
the villas; and then again you catch the perspective of a
range of superb edifices, the elevation of which is
contrived to have the effect of one palace. The park, in
fact, is now belted with groups of these mansions, entirely
excluding all sight of the streets. Those that are finished,
give a satisfactory earnest of the splendid spirit in which
the whole is to be accomplished. There will be nothing like
it in Europe. The villas in the interior of the park are
planted out from the view of each other, so that the
inhabitant of each seems, in his prospect, to be the sole
lord of the surround-ing picturesque scenery.
In the centre of the park there is a circular plantation of
im-mense circumference, and in the interior of this you are
in a perfect Arcadia. The mind cannot conceive any thing
more hushed, more sylvan, more entirely removed from the
slightest evidence of proximity to a town. Nothing is
audible there except the songs of birds and the rustling of
leaves. Kensington gardens, beautiful as they are, have no
seclusion so perfect as this.
~71~~in life we cling still closer to the recollections of our infancy;
the cheerful man loves to dwell over the scenes and frolics of his
boyish days; and we are stricken to the very heart by the removal or
change of these pleasant localities; the loss of an old servant, an old
building, or an old tree, is felt like the loss of an old friend. The
paths, and fields, and rambles of our infancy are endeared to us by
the fondest and the purest feelings of the mind; we lose sight of our
increasing infirmities, as we retrace the joyous mementos of the past,
and gain new vigour as we recall the fleeting fancies and pleasant
vagaries of our earliest days. I am one of those," continued Crony, "who
am doomed to deplore the destructive advances of what generally goes by
the name of improvement; and yet, I am not insensible to the great and
praiseworthy efforts of the sovereign to increase the splendour of the
capital westward; but leave me a few of the green fields and hedgerow
walks which used to encircle the metropolis, or, in a short space, the
first stage from home will only be half-way out of London. A humorous
writer of the day observes, that 'the rage for building fills every
pleasant outlet with bricks, mortar,rubbish,and eternal scaffold-poles,
which, whether you walk east, west, north, or south, seem to be running
after you. I heard a gentleman say, the other day, that he was sure a
resident of the suburbs could scarcely lie down after dinner, and take
a nap, without finding, when he awoke, that a new row of buildings had
started up since he closed his eyes. It is certainly astonishing: one
would think the builders used magic, or steam at least, and it would be
curious to ask those gentlemen in what part of the neighbouring counties
they intend London should end. Not content with separate streets,
squares, and rows, they are actually the founders of new towns, which in
the space of a few months become finished and inhabited. The precincts
of London have more the appearance of a newly-discovered colony than
~72~~the suburbs of an ancient city.{5} And what, sir, will be the
pleasant consequences of all this to posterity? Instead of having houses
built to encumber the earth for a century or two, it is ten to one but
they disencumber the mortgagee, by falling down with a terrible crash
during the first half life, and, perhaps, burying a host of persons in
their ruins. Mere paste-board palaces are the structures of the present
times, composed of lath and plaster, and Parker's cement, a few coloured
bricks, a fanciful viranda, and a balcony, embellished within by the
_decorateur_, and stuccoed or whitewashed without, to give them a
light appearance, and hide the defects of an ignorant architect or an
unskilful builder; while a very few years introduces the occupant to
all the delightful sensations of cracked walls, swagged floors, bulged
fronts, sinking roofs, leaking gutters, inadequate drains, and other
innumerable ills, the effects of an originally bad constitution, which
dispels any thing like the hopes of a reversionary interest, and
clearly proves that without a renovation equal to resurrection, both
the building and the occupant are very likely to fall victims to a rapid
consumption." In this way did Crony contrive to beguile the time, until
we found ourselves entering the arena in front of the Dean's house,
Westminster. "Here, alone," said my old friend, "the hand of the
innovator has not been permitted to intrude; this spot remains
unpolluted; but, for the neighbourhood, alas!" sighed Crony, "that is
changed indeed. The tavern in Union-street,
5 For instance: in what a very short time back were the
Bays-water-fields, there is now a populous district, called
by the inhabitants "Moscow;" and at the foot of Primrose-
hill we are amazed by coming upon a large complication of
streets, &c. under the name of "Portland Town." The rustic
and primaeval meadows of Kilburn are also filling with raw
buildings and incipient roads; to say nothing of the
charming neighbourhood of St. John's Wood Farm, and other
spots nearer town.
~73~~where Charles Churchill, and Lloyd, and Bonnel Thornton used to
meet and mix wit, and whim, and strong potation, has sunk into a common
pot-house, and is wholly neglected by the scholars of the present
time: not that they are a whit more moral than their predecessors,
but, professing to be more refined, they are now to be found at the
Tavistock, or the Hummums, at Long's, or Steven's; more polished in
their pleasures, but more expensive in their pursuits."
[Illustration: page73]
As we approached the centre of Dean's-yard, Crony's visage evidently
grew more sentimental; the curved lips of the cynic straightened to
an expression of kindlier feeling, and ere we had arrived at the
school-door, the old eccentric had mellowed down into a generous
contemplatist. "Ay," said Crony, "on this spot, Mr. Black mantle, half
a century ago, was I, a light-hearted child of whim, as you are now,
associated with some of the greatest names that have since figured in
the history of our times, many of whom are now sleeping in their tombs
beneath a weight of worldly honours, while some few have left a nobler
and a surer monument to exalt them with posterity, the well-earned
tribute of a nation's gratitude, the never-fading fame which attaches
itself to good works and great actions. Among the few families of
my time who might be styled ''_magni nominis_' in college, were the
Finches, the Drummonds, (arch-bishop's sons), and the Markhams. Tom
Steele{6} was on the foundation also, and had much fame in playing
Davus. The Hothams{7} were considered among the lucky hits of
Westminster; the Byngs{8} thought not as lucky as they should have been.
Mr. Drake{9}
6 A descendant of the celebrated Sir Richard
Steele, the associate of Addison in the Spectator, Tatler,
Crisis, &c.
7 Sir Henry and Sir William Hotham, admirals in the British
navy.
8 Viscount Torrington, a rear-admiral of the blue.
9 Thomas Tyrwhitt Drake, Esq., (I believe)
member for Agmondesham, Bucks.
~74~~of Amersham was one of the best scholars of his time; for a
particular act of beneficence, two guineas given out of his private
pocket-money to a poor sufferer by a fire, Dr. Smith gave him a public
reward of some books. Lord Carmarthen{10} here came to the title, on the
death of his eldest brother. Here too he found the Jacksons, and what
was more, the Jacksons{11} found him. Lord Foley had, during his stay
here, two narrow escapes for his life, once being nearly drowned in the
Thames, and secondly, by a hack-horse running away with him: the
last incident was truly ominous of the noble lord's favourite, but
unfortunate pursuits{12}. Sir John St. Aubyn is here said to have formed
his attachments with several established characters in the commercial
world, as Mr. Beckett, and others; which afterwards proved of the
highest consequence to his pursuits and success in life. Lord Bulkley
had the credit of being one of the handsomest and best-humoured boys of
his time, and so he continued through life. Michael Angelo Taylor{13}
was remarkable for his close application, under his tutor Hume, and the
tutor as remarkable for application to him.
Hatton, junior. Lawyers, if not always good scholars, generally are
something better; with much strong practical sense, and a variety of all
that "makes a ready man; "Hatton was all this, both as to scholarship,
and the pertinent application of it. Though a nephew of Lord Mansfield,
and bred up under his auspices, he was not more remarkable than his
brother George for the love of bullion. His abilities were great, and
they would have been greatly thought of, had he been personally less
locomotive. "Ah, ah," said his uncle, "you'll never prosper till you
learn to stay in a place." He replied, "O never fear, sir, do but get me
a place; and I'll learn of you to stay in it."
10 The present Duke of Leeds.
11 Dr. Cyril Jackson, afterwards sub-preceptor to his
Majesty, George the Fourth, and since canon of Christ
Church, Oxford. He refused the primacy of Ireland; was an
excellent governor of his college, and died universally
respected at Fulpham, in Sussex, in 1819. Dr. William
Jackson, his brother, who was Bishop of Oxford, was also
Regius Professor of Greek to that university; he died in
1815.
12 His lordship's attachment to the turf is as notorious as
his undeviating practice of the purest principles of honour.
It will not excite surprise, that such conduct has not been
in such pursuits successful.
13 The member for Durham.
~75~~Lord Deerhurst (now Earl of Coventry) had then, as now, very quick
parts, and early insight into beautiful composition. Whatever good thing
he met with, he was always ready with an immediate parallel; Latin,
Greek, or from honesty into English, nothing came amiss to him. He
had a quick sense of the ridiculous; and could scout a character at all
absurd and suspicious, with as much pleasant scurrility as a gentleman
need have.
Banks always made his own exercises, as his exercises have since made
him. He was a diligent and good boy; and though an early arithmetician,
and fond of numbers, he was as soon distinguished for very honourable
indifference to number one.
Douglas (now, I believe, Marquis of Queensberry) was remarkable for the
worst penmanship in the school, and the economy of last moments; till
then he seldom thought of an exercise. His favourite exercise was in
Tothill-fields; from whence returning once very late, he instantly
conceived and executed some verses, that were the best of his day. On
another day, he was as prompt, and thought to have been more lucky than
before; when, lo, the next morning he was flogged! for the exercise was
so ill written, that it was not legible even by himself.
Lord Maiden was remarkable for his powers of engaging, and he then, as
since, made some engagements, which might as well have been let alone.
He made an early promise of all he has since performed. He was very fond
of dramatic entertainments, and he enacted much; was accounted a good
actor; so was his crony, Jack Wilson, so well known at Mrs. Hobart's,
&c., for his fal de ral tit and for his duets with Lady Craven, Lady A.
Foley, &c, &c.
Lord MANSFIELD, then William Murray, here began his career. When at
school, he was not remarkable for personal courage, or for mental
bravery; though one of the stoutest boys of his standing, he was often
beat by boys a year or two below him; and though then acute and voluble,
his opinions were suppressed and retracted before minds less powerful
but more intrepid than his own. Of his money allowance he was always
so good a manager, ~70~~that he could lend to him who was in need. The
famous exercise which Nicois made such a rout about, was in praise of
abundance: an English theme on this thesis, from Horace--
"_Dulce est de magno tollore acervo_. "
He was in college; and no man on earth could conjecture that in his
own _acervo_ there would ever be aggrandizement, such as it has since
occurred.
Lord Stormont at school began his knack of oral imitations, and when
a child, could speak quite as well as afterwards; after his uncle, the
disgusting pronunciation of the letter o then too infected his language;
he made it come to the ear like an a. Humorously glancing at this
affectation, Onslow or Stanhope said "Murray's horse is an ass."
Markham, the Archbishop of York, made an early display of classical
taste, and the diligent cultivation of it. Some of his school exercises
are extant, and show more than a promise of that refinement and
exactness, which afterwards distinguished his performances at Christ
Church. The Latin version of the fragment of Simonides, as beautiful as
any thing in the whole range of poetical imitation, though published
in the Oxford Lachrymo as Mr. Bournes, is known to be written by Mr.
Markham.
At school, too, Markham's conversation had a particularity known to
distinguish it. War was his favourite topic, and caught, perhaps, from
the worthy major, his father, and from his crony Webb, afterwards the
general. It was apparent upon all occasions; when he was to choose his
reading as a private study, in the sixth form, Caesar was his first book;
and so continuing through most of his leisure time addicted to this
sort of inquiry, the archbishop was afterwards able to talk war with any
soldier in England. But, indeed, what is there he could not talk
equal to any competitor? To the Archbishop Markham, and through him to
Westminster, attach the credit of the good scholarship of the present
king. This is little less than a credit to the country.
The Marquis of Stafford had fame for his English exercises; and after
saying this of his Wednesday nights' themes, let it also be noted, that
he had fame for other exercises of old England. He could ride, run, row,
and bat better than most of his comtemporaries; in his potations, too,
he was rather deep; but though deep, yet clear; and though gentle, yet
not dull. At once a most jolly fellow, and the most magnificent of his
time,--and so "_ab incepto processerit_."
The Duke of Dorset, then Sackville, (since dead) was good-humoured,
manly, frank, and passionately fond of various school ~77~~exercises; as
billiards, at the alehouse in Union-street, (then perhaps a tavern)
and _double-fives_ between the two walls at the school-door. For
Tothill-fields fame as to cricket, he was yet more renowned: there he
was the champion of the town-boys against those in college; and in the
great annual match, he had an innings that might have lasted till the
time Baccelli _run him out_, had not the other side given up the game.
As to the school itself, there it was easy to catch him out; though such
was his address, that he was seldom caught out. When he was in school,
really few boys were there to better purpose; he made several good prose
exercises both in English and Latin; and, what is rare for a boy of
rank, with but small aid from the tutor.
At school, he shot and rowed pretty well; and as he could not always pay
for his boat in specie, somebody proposed a barter of _Tothill-fields
game_; but he had a soul above it, and what was more, at his elbow
another soul, saying, _Carpamus dulcia_, and of my dressing. That friend
was
Lord Edward Bentinck, whose culinary fame began on the sparrows and
fieldfares knocked down about the Five Chimnies and Jenny's whim. At a
bill of fare, and the science how dinner should be put before him, he
was then, as since, unrivalled; yet more to his good memorial, he knew
how a dinner should be put before other people. For one day, as he was
beginning to revel in a surreptitious banquet in the Bowling-alley, his
share of the mess Lord Edward gave to the relief of want, which then
happened to be wandering by the window.--"This praise shall last."
Old Elwes, the late member for Berks, may occur, on the mention of want
wandering by, though, notwithstanding appearance, he suffered nobody
about him to be in such wants as himself. Penurious, perhaps, on small
objects; in those which are greater, he was certainly liberal almost to
prodigality. The hoarding principle might be strong in him, but in the
conduct of it he was often generous, always easy. No man in England
probably lost more money in large sums, for want of asking for it: for
small money, as in farthings to street beggary, few men probably have
lost less. What he had not sufficiently cultivated, was the habit of
letting money easily go. So far, he was the reverse of Charles the
Second; for on greater occasions, again I say it, he seemed to own the
act under the ennobling impulse of systematic generosity, expanding
equally in self-denial, and in social sympathy. He was among the most
dispassionate and tender-tempered men alive; and, considering ~78~~all
things, it might be reasonable to allot him the meed of meekness upon
earth, and of that virtue which seeketh not her own reward.
His ruling passion was the love of ease.
The beginnings of all this were more or less discernible at school,
where Lord Mansfield gave him the nick-name of Jack Meggot.
His other little particularities were the best running and walking in
the school, and the commencement of his fame for riding, which, in the
well-known trials in the Swiss Academy, outdid all competition. Worsley,
of the Board of Works, alone divided the palm; he rode more gracefully.
Elwes was by far the boldest rider.
The Duke of Portland (who died in 1809) was among the _delicciae_ of each
form at Westminster, in all that appertained to temper, the tenderness
and warmth of feeling, suavity of approach, and the whole passive power
of pleasing. Thus much internal worth, tempered with but little of those
showy powers which dazzle and seduce, gave early promise that he
would escape all intriguing politics, and never degrade himself by the
projects of party; for a party-man must always be comparatively mean,
even on a scale of vicious dignity; in violence, subordinate to the
ruffian; in chicane, below a common town-sharper.
He had, happily, no talents for party; he was better used by nature.
He seemed formed for the kindliest offices of life; to appreciate the
worth, and establish the dignity of domestic duties; to exemplify the
hardest tasks of friendship and affinity; to display each hospitable
charm.
All that he afterwards did for Chace Price, and Lord Eduard, appeared
as a flower in its bud, in Dean's-yard and Tothill-fields, with the
fruit-woman under the Gateway, and the coffee-house then opposite.
In his school-exercises, fame is not remembered to have followed any but
his Wednesday evening themes: some of them were incomparably the best of
the standing. In the rest of the school business, said the master to him
one day, "you just keep on this side whipping."
His smaller habits were none remarkable, except that his diet was rather
more blameable in the article of wine. A little too early; a little too
much.
This, probably, more than any hereditary taint, made him, in immediate
manhood, a martyr to the gout.
Against this, his ancestor's nostrum was tried in vain; the disease
would not yield, till it was overborne by abstinence, which, to the
praise of the duke's temper, he began and continued, with a splendour of
resolution not any where exceeded.
~79~~The duke had been long estranged from all animal food but fish, and
every fermented liquor. According to the old Latin distich, the poetry
of a water-drinker is said to be short-lived, and not fit to live:
was this proverbial doom extended to what was not poetry, it might be
checked by the prose of the Duke of Portland. Most of his common letters
were among the models of epistolary correspondence.
The Duke of Beaufort{14} exhibited at school more of the rudiments of
a country gentleman, than the rudiments of Busby; he knew a horse
practically, while other boys took it only from description in Virgil.
_Stare loco nescit_, was however his motto; and through all the demesnes
adjacent to his little reign, on the water, and in the water, he was
well; on horseback he was yet better; and to ride, or tie, on foot, or
on horseback, no boy of his time was more ready at every good turn. He
loved his friend; and, such were the engaging powers of his very frank
and pleasant manner, his friends all loved him.
Some encumbrances, _solito de more_ of all boys, with the coffee-house,
for jellies, fruit, &c, left when he left school, he afterwards
discharged with singular eclat.
In regard to scholarship, he was by no means wanting; though it must
be owned, he wanted always to be better strangers with them. Like many
other boys, he knew much more than he was aware of; for he had as much
aversion to the Greek Epigrams, as the best critic could have; and
in Terence, as he could find nothing to laugh, Lloyd often raised an
opposite emotion. Lloyd, had he lived to this time, would have taken
Terence as a main ingredient in his enjoyments. So benevolent is nature
to fit the feelings of man to his destiny.
M'Donald, afterwards Solicitor General, was in college, and had then
about him much that was remarkable for good value.
The different ranks in college are rather arduous trials of temper; and
he that can escape without imputation through them, and be, as it
is called, a junior without meanness, and a senior without obduracy,
exhibits much early promise, both as to talents and virtue.
This early promise was M 'Donald's. He was well-respected in either
rank, and he deserved it; for he obeyed the time, without being
time-serving; he commanded, as one not forgetting what it was to obey.
_Par negotiis, neque supra_, characterised his scholarship.
14 Died in 1803.
~80~~He had in every form sufficiency, and sometimes eminence. He
had more facility in Greek than most boys; his English exercises were
conspicuous for language and neatness of turn.