authority the Hum-Fums were to take upon themselves the charge
of correcting their neighbours, and setting the world in general
to rights; adding a doubt as to the obedience of a nation like
England, famed for its independence, and envied for the blessings
of religious toleration, to the _dicta_ of a committee of Hum-Fums.
"For," said the pious member, "although I speak under correction,
and with all due deference to the great Hum-Fum Gamboogee and my
sanctified brethren, I do not see the right by which we, being only
men like themselves, are, in a country of liberty, to control our
fellow-creatures in their recreations and amusements; seeing, that if
they are to go to perdition for doing that, which has been ordinarily
done in Great Britain for the last four or five centuries, we are
to conclude that all our forefathers have forfeited their hopes of
happiness hereafter, because the system of Hum-Fumism did not exist;
which reflection is not only melancholy, but, as I am bound to trust,
not founded in fact. Moreover, sir," added the brother, addressing
himself to the most venerable Gamboogee, "your Lordship must know,
that in Roman Catholic countries the Sunday is universally a day of
gaiety; that dances, and even plays, are performed on that day; and
since, I believe, many of the great Hum-Fums who now hear me, voted
in another place in favour of the Roman Catholics, they should be
cautious, while they cry for the admission of such levities with
one breath, not to condemn, with another, to eternal punishment the
Protestants, who, although it must be confessed they contrive, even
in these times of distress, to enjoy themselves on Sundays, confine
themselves to a walk or drive into the country, with their wives and
children, and a harmless regale of their pipes and their pots, their
buggies and their bottles, or their carriages and their claret, as
the case may be----"
"Harmless!" said the great Hum-Fum, the buckles of his wig standing
on end!
"And I doubt much," continued the former speaker, "whether the very
proceedings we are about to adopt will not sicken those of moderately
pious lives, and----"
"Sicken, sir!" interrupted the great Hum-Fum--"look at the navy,
sir! Do you not perceive that the blessed institution, the Bethel
Union, of which Master Phillips and myself are the main props, has
taken the navy under its care--that we are to control the pleasures
of the sailors--to correct their propensities--dock them of their
girls and their grog--and allowance them even in pig-tail? If this
experiment succeed--if the navy submit to this most proper control
and purification, why should not the army and the laity generally
submit to it too? What did Oliver Cromwell do, sir? Had not he a
preaching army?----"
Here a considerable noise of coughing took place; for though the
ultra Hum-Fums were too much involved in zeal to think of analogies,
the designing and radical Hums, who had merely joined the society for
political purposes, felt that the mention of old Noll might throw the
more moderate into a train of thoughts for which they had not as yet
been sufficiently prepared.
The confusion caused the great Gamboogee to cease; when a servant
entered and whispered his Lordship. What the communication was we
were unable to learn, as an adjournment was immediately moved and
carried. The fact is--dinner was ready.
MORAL THEATRICALS.[49]
We have once or twice alluded to a scheme (forwarded to us by the
Author) for rendering theatrical entertainments strictly moral;
and, it appears to us, that no season can be better suited to its
development than the present.
The gentleman, to whose exertions in the behalf of virtue and
decency, the public are even now greatly indebted, and whose plan, if
carried into effect, will entitle him to the gratitude of the nation
at large, is the Rev. Mr. Plumptree, who has published a volume of
dramatic pieces illustrative of his purpose, which blend with deep
interest a purity of thought and propriety of language rarely to be
met with in the theatrical works of the day.
The first of the dramas is called "Royal Beneficence, or the Emperor
Alexander," and is founded on an event which occurred to his Russian
Majesty, on the banks of the Wilna, where he restored a drowning
young man by the means prescribed by the Humane Society, which means
of restoration are published with the play--evidently with the best
intentions. Mr. Plumptree offered this piece to Covent Garden and
to Drury Lane, but it was by both rejected; then Mr. Hindes, the
manager of the Norwich playhouse, had the refusal of it; but he, like
the London proprietors, objected to its appearance because a living
character was introduced.
Mr. Plumptree reasons very fairly upon the futility of this excuse,
and prints the detail of the Emperor's indefatigable exertions, upon
which his play is founded, together with many other interesting
documents concerning the valuable charity to which the piece is
dedicated.
The drama is full of interest and good feeling; and although, in the
present state of the stage, there is, perhaps, a want of bustle,
still the affecting incident at the end of the first act, where the
dead body of the hero is dragged out of the water, and stripped upon
the stage, under the immediate inspection of the Emperor, who says,--
"Lose no time in fruitless ceremony: this is our duty now; strip
off his clothes; wipe him dry, and rub about his heart, his
temples, wrists, and everywhere,"--
appears to us likely to have produced a great sensation in a British
audience.
We must say, that the rejection of such a piece by the London
managers reflects equally upon their taste and delicacy.
The next drama is called "Winter," and is founded upon the story
of Elizabeth Woodcock, who was buried in the snow for upwards of a
week, and is extremely pretty. "The Force of Conscience," a tragedy,
follows, which ends with the execution of Mr. Morris, a blacksmith,
on the new drop, during which awful ceremony he is assisted in prayer
by the Rev. Mr. Jones; the spectators make comments, and the culprit
his last dying speech, when the drop, or rather the curtain, falls,
which ends "the strange eventful history."
The next play is called "Mrs. Jordan and the Methodist," and is
founded upon a benevolent action (one of many) performed by that
incomparable actress. We have too much affection for her memory
to make a single comment upon Mr. Plumptree's delicate attempt to
commemorate her good qualities.
The next is a comedy, called "The Salutary Reproof, or the Butcher!"
from which we intend to make a few extracts, in order to give a fair
specimen of Mr. Plumptree's dramatic talent and virtuous intentions;
and we certainly do hope that one of the London theatres will afford
the town an opportunity of judging for themselves the benefits
likely to arise to their morals by such representations, without any
curtailment of their amusement.
The play opens with a view of a country village; a public-house--sign
the Salutation, on one side; on the other side, a baker's house and
shop, and next door a butcher's house and shop; trees and a seat
before it.
Enter the Rev. Mr. Shepherd--goes to the inn, and is shut out--he
tries the baker, who will not give him a lodging--whereupon he
proceeds to the butcher's. As he advances, he hears a hymn sung by
the butcher's family, accompanied on the oboe. He is shortly after
received by the butcher, and the scene changes to the inside of the
butcher's house, where, as it is described, there is "everything
remarkably neat, and even elegant in a plain way."
Enter Mrs. Goodman, George, and Ruth--then Goodman and the Rev. Mr.
Shepherd.
The following conversation occurs:--
GOODMAN. Mary, here is a gentleman will lodge here to-night.
Muggins is in one of his surly fits, and has denied him. Put
clean sheets on the bed, and you shall sleep with Ruth, and I
with--George!
MRS. G. What will the gentleman be pleased to have? Pray, be
seated, sir--take this great chair. Shall I do you a mutton chop,
sir?
GOODMAN. Bring the ease-and-comfort, George.
In a long note Mr. Plumptree elaborately describes this machine, and
benevolently observes, that no house should be without at least one
of them.
MR. SHEPHERD. I thank you--if it will not be giving you too much
trouble, I should prefer tea before everything--nothing refreshes
me after fatigue like tea.
MRS. G. By all means, sir; the fire is not out in the back-house.
Ruth, put on the kettle; it is hot; and get the tea-things.
GEORGE. (_Bringing the ease-and-comfort._) Here, father.
GOODMAN. Will you rest your legs on this, sir? we call it ease
and comfort.
MR. SHEPHERD. 'Tis ease and comfort, indeed. I know it by the
name of rest-and-be-thankful. I will beg, if you please, when I
go to bed, the patriarchal hospitality of water for my feet, and
that warm.
This conversation, which is quite refreshing from its naturalness,
continues till it takes a turn in this manner:--
It will be observed that Goodman is a butcher.
GOODMAN. It is said that our laws do not allow a butcher to serve
upon a jury in a case of life and death--supposing, from his
business, that he must have less humanity than others.
MR. SHEPHERD. But that, I believe, is not the case; and within my
own confined experience I have known several truly respectable
and humane butchers. Our laws themselves are sanguinary; and
they do not make the same exception to the military or naval
characters, both which professions have too much to do with the
effusion of blood.
* * * * *
GOODMAN. What do you think, sir, of the post-boy who cuts and
over-drives his horses?
MR. SHEPHERD. What do I think of the gentleman who sits behind
him, and permits it--nay, encourages him, and pays him extra for
distressing them, merely to bring him a few minutes sooner to the
end of his stage?
GOODMAN. Sir, I had rather be what I am.
MR. SHEPHERD. And so had I--it is a consolation to me often, in
my journeys on foot, that no beast suffers for my accommodation.
The vein of morality which runs through the dialogue is exquisitely
touching, and in the hands of Terry or Macready we think Goodman
might be made highly effective--Young would be excellent in the
"Rev." Mr. Shepherd, and in the latter part of the act, where
Goodman discovers in the clergyman a friend who "put up at the Wheat
Sheaf, at Blessbury, twenty-five years before," would make a decided
hit--when pushing away his ease and comfort, the Reverend Gentleman
returns thanks for having made the butcher what he finds him.
The conclusion of the first act is happily imagined, and highly
theatrical:--
MR. SHEPHERD. If you please, I will retire to rest--I heard your
evening hymn, and interrupted your prayer in the hope of joining
in it. Of whose devotions do you make use?
GOODMAN. Bishop Wilson's, sir--but you will be so good as to lead
for us.
MR. SHEPHERD. If you please--but in general I know not that you
can do better than make use of the pious bishop.
GOODMAN. George, bring the book.
MR. SHEPHERD. I will have it in my hand, if you please, but our
own peculiar circumstances require our own peculiar thanks and
petitions.
[_George brings the book, and gives it to Mr. S., and whilst they
are looking at him, as if waiting for his kneeling first, the
curtain drops._]
It is impossible not to feel such a scene deeply--its dramatic
quality and the powerful effect that such a style of representation
could not fail to have upon a thinking audience.
In the second act Goodman dispatches a leg of mutton to Lord
Orwell's, and puts up a prayer--Mrs. Goodman inquires if the
gentleman's shoes are cleaned, and mentions that she must go and look
at the rolls in the camp oven: subsequently to which we are presented
with a scene at his Lordship's, who desires the butcher to sit down,
and enters into conversation about "Fiorin grass," which Goodman says
will produce six ton per acre. His Lordship then recommends a work
called "The Experienced Butcher," published by Darton and Harvey,
Gracechurch Street, price 6s.--in return for which Goodman mentions
the arrival of Mr. Shepherd, and recommends him for the curacy of
Gladford, the new rector having refused to countenance him. Whereupon
Lord Orwell says to the butcher (taking his hand), "Mr. Goodman,
this, like every part of your conduct, raises you in my esteem;
depend upon my services wherever they can be useful."
GOODMAN. Your Lordship is too condescending--too good--to _me_
too.
[_Exit, putting his hand to his eyes, to wipe away the tears._
LORD ORWELL. No profession, I see, however rude, can prevent the
growth of humanity, where religion affords its kindly influence.
Even conversation with this butcher I perceive to improve my
humanity!
_Enter_ SIR WILLIAM RIGHTLY.
Good morning to you, Sir William; you rested well, I hope?
SIR W. Quite so, I thank you; your Lordship is well this morning,
I hope? You have been sending your butcher away in tears, I see.
I passed him in the hall; he gave me a look that spoke I know not
what; I felt it at my heart.
* * * * *
LORD ORWELL. I think you must have heard me mention this butcher
before; he is not only the best butcher for many miles round, but
one of the best men!
His Lordship then characterises Goodman thus:--
I have a great regard for him. In addition to all I have said,
there is a civility and gentleness in his manner--an ease and
frankness--civil without servility--ease without familiarity, and
gentle, with much animation!
SIR WILLIAM. It seems, then, that the butcher, if not a gentleman
has much of the gentleman about him.
LORD ORWELL. Exactly so. But let us join the breakfast party.
[_Exeunt._
There is so much genuine nature in all this, that we certainly should
have no hesitation in foretelling the reception it would meet with on
the stage, if acted. The _dénoûment_ may easily be anticipated; Mr.
Shepherd, instead of being continued as curate, gets the rectory at
Gladford; and Lord Orwell and Sir William Rightly having walked down
to the butcher's, there conclude the play thus:
[Lord Orwell and Sir William alternately shake hands with Mrs.
Shepherd and Mrs. Goodman; Mr. Shepherd and Goodman then take
each other cordially by the hand, in the centre, while Lord
Orwell takes Goodman's hand and Mrs. Goodman's; Sir William takes
Mrs. Shepherd's and Ruth's; Mrs. Goodman takes Muggins's, and
Muggins George's; Ruth takes Crusty's, and Crusty his wife's. The
curtain drops.]
As we have already said, the great charm of these pieces is the
perfect representation which they give of _real life_. The intimate
knowledge of human nature, and of society, which shines throughout
all of them; and, above all, that consummate skill which, while it
affords the richest dramatic treat, conveys the purest moral lesson.
It certainly is not for us to prescribe to Mr. Elliston; but we do
think that if the play, whence we have made the above extracts, were
acted at Drury Lane, the effect produced would be extraordinary.
To Mr. Plumptree we return our thanks for his volume, which having
read with admiration, we lay down with infinite satisfaction; and if
every author were to pursue _his_ plan and publish the piece, which
managers have refused, it would very soon put an end to all doubts
as to the cabals and intrigues which agitate, divide, and govern
theatrical cabinets.
PRIVATE CORRESPONDENCE OF PUBLIC MEN.
With considerable exertion, and at a great expense of capital and
research, we have been fortunately enabled to gratify the prevalent
taste for diaries and correspondence; a gentleman of the highest
literary character, moving in the first circles as well of the
political as fashionable world, has been kind enough to furnish us
with no less than twenty-four volumes of MS. letters and memoranda,
the production of all the leading personages of the last and present
century.
It is from the unreserved communication of their thoughts and
feelings that the characters of great men are to be justly
appreciated; and with the addition of the notes, explanatory and
critical, of our highly-gifted friend, we think we shall do the world
a service, and our readers a pleasure, by submitting portions of the
great collection entrusted to our care.
It must be observed that the whole of the correspondence of which
we are possessed is strictly of a private nature, and certainly has
never appeared in print before. We give a few specimens:--
No. I.
"FROM THE RIGHT HON. WILLIAM PITT TO MR. SMITH.
"Mr. Pitt will be glad to see Mr. Smith to-morrow at twelve.
"Downing-street, April 4, 1800."
I have not been able to ascertain precisely who this Mr. Smith was,
and the envelope, which possibly might have shewn the address, has
been unfortunately lost--the name of Smith is by no means an uncommon
one; it is possible that this note might have been written to a
relation of Lord Carrington, who was created a Baron on the 15th of
July, 1796. His Lordship married a Miss Bernard, by whom he has had
one son and eleven daughters.--ED.
No. II.
"FROM DAVID GARRICK, ESQ., TO DR. GOLDSMITH.
"Southampton-street, April 9, 1775.
"DEAR GOLDSMITH,--Mrs. Garrick will be glad to see you here at
dinner to-day, at three o'clock.
"Yours, D. G."
The authenticity of this short letter is unquestionable; for although
the initials of this British Roscius only are affixed to it, the
date, and the known intimacy which existed between Garrick and
Goldsmith, put all doubt at rest as to the real writer. It is a
curious transcript of the times, as it marks the hour of dining in
the year 1775, in what may be considered the best authority. Garrick
retired from the stage in 1777, and died in 1779; his widow survived
him nearly half a century. The house at Hampton was purchased by
a Mr. Carr, Solicitor, as I believe, to the Excise, one of whose
daughters was married to Dr. Lushington.--ED.
No. III.
"FROM MRS. LETITIA BARBAULD TO MISS HIGGINBOTHAM.
"Mrs. Barbauld will thank Miss Higginbotham to let her have the
silk gown home by Saturday night at latest.
"Thursday evening."
This interesting remain is without date, but it bears the evidence of
truth on its face. Mrs. Barbauld, who was the daughter of Dr. Aikin,
was a highly-talented lady; her "Beggar's Petition" itself is enough
to immortalize her. The desire to have home a new gown on Saturday
night, in order that she might wear it at church the next day, has
a naturalness in it which is quite refreshing--a feminine anxiety
operating upon a masculine mind.
I have endeavoured by every possible means to ascertain who the Miss
Higginbotham was, to whom the letter is addressed, but hitherto in
vain. By reference to the files of newspapers kept at the Chapter
Coffee House, in St. Paul's Churchyard, I see that in the year 1870,
a Mrs. Hickenbotham kept a milliner's shop in Hanway-yard, as it was
then called. But I can hardly fancy it the same person, because in
the first place Mrs. Barbauld distinctly calls her Miss, whereas the
person in question was married; and secondly, because the name of the
milliner to whom the newspaper refers, is spelt Hickenbotham, whereas
Mrs. Barbauld makes the Hick, Hig, and spells her _bottom_, _botham_,
after the manner of the landlord of the Windmill Inn, at Salt-hill,
near Eton in Buckinghamshire.
No. IV.
"FROM THE RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE TO MR. BURNS.
"BURNS,--Get something for dinner by four o'clock to-morrow, and
tell Simmons to have a fire lighted in my bed-room early in the
day."
"E. B."
The Right Hon. Edmund Burke, one of the most distinguished of our
British worthies, was born at Limerick on New Year's Day, 1730; he
was educated by a Quaker, got into Parliament in 1765, and died at
Beaconsfield, July 8, 1797. Burns I imagine to have been a servant
of his, but I have no particular reason for believing it, beyond the
evidence of the letter before us. The direction to get dinner ready,
comes evidently in the way of a command; and the unadorned style
of address quite justifies my suspicions. Simmons is unquestionably
a domestic servant, and a female. In the registry of marriages in
Beaconsfield church, I find an entry of a marriage between Thomas
Hopkins and Mary Anne Simmons, spinster; which Mary Anne I take to
be the individual referred to by Burke. The date of that marriage
is June 15, 1792. Now, although this letter is without date, it is
fair to infer from the reference to "making a fire in his bed-room,"
that it was written much earlier in the year than the month of June;
so that even if we were able to fix the date of the letter in the
same year, it is quite within the range of possibility that the
marriage did not take place till several months after the servant
was spoken of, by her maiden name of Simmons. I took occasion to
visit Beaconsfield twice, concerning this little doubt, and I think
it but justice to make my acknowledgments to Mr. Thomas Fagg, the
deputy-sexton of the parish, for his urbane attention to me, and the
readiness with which he afforded me all the information of which he
was possessed.--ED.
No. V.
"FROM SIR PHILIP FRANCIS TO MR. PERKINS.
"MY DEAR SIR,--The weather is so hot, and town so dull, that I
intend flying from all its ills and inconveniences to-morrow; I
shall be happy, therefore, to join your pleasant party.--Yours,
"P. F."
This very curious letter is not more valuable on account of the
matter it contains, than as conducing to throw additional light upon
the mystery of Junius--it would occupy too much space in a note to
enter into a disquisition concerning the various conflicting opinions
upon this subject, but as far as a comparison of hand-writing
with some portions of the MS. of Junius's Letters, which I had an
opportunity of seeing, and a strong similarity of style in the
writing, go, I have no hesitation in settling the authorship upon
Sir Philip--there is such vigorous imagination displayed in the
description, in nine words, of the state of the weather and the
metropolis, and such a masculine resolution evinced in the declared
determination to "fly from all its ills and inconveniences" the
very next day, that one cannot but pause to admire the firmness
which could plan such a measure, and the taste which could give
such a determination in such language. The cautious concealment of
the place to which the supposed party of pleasure was to go, is
another evidence of the force of habit--I have reason to believe
it to have been Twickenham, or as Pope spells it, Twitnam, but I
have no particular datum whereon to found this suspicion, except,
indeed, that I think it quite as probable to have been Twickenham, or
Twitnam, as any other of the agreeable villages round London.--ED.
No. VI.
"FROM SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS TO CALEB WHITEFOORD, ESQ.
"Leicester Fields, Saturday.
"MY DEAR SIR,--I have received your witty note, and am extremely
obliged to you for your present of venison. I trust you will
favour me with your company on Tuesday, to meet some of your
friends, to join them in discussing it.--Yours, very truly,
"J. REYNOLDS."
There can be little doubt that the note referred to by Sir Joshua
was full of those quibbles and quaintnesses for which Whitefoord was
so well known. Whitefoord was a man of considerable attainments, and
was distinguished by the peculiarity of his dress; a French grey
coat with black frogs, a small cocked hat and an umbrella--he was
the constant frequenter of auctions, and has the credit of being the
inventor of the now hacknied concit called "Cross readings." It is
certain, that in his note sent with the venison, he called Sir Joshua
his deer friend, hoped it would suit his pallate, recommended him
to take some cuts from it and transfer them to plates, spoke of the
current sauce being jelly, and perhaps signed himself his Buck friend
(for at that period the words Buck and Maccaroni were the distinctive
appellations of two classes of persons in London). I surmise this,
because he was a confirmed punster, a character somewhat prized in
those days. Goldsmith said it was impossible to keep company with him
without being infected with the itch of punning. He is celebrated in
the postscript to "Retaliation:"--
"Merry Whitefoord, farewell! for thy sake I admit
That a Scot may have humour, I'd almost said, wit.
This debt to thy memory I cannot refuse,
Thou best-temper'd man, with the worst-temper'd muse."--ED.
It is impossible for us to spare more room to-day, but we think we
have offered a specimen of a work which will be found at least equal
to many others whose pretensions are much more formidable, and which,
after all, do not exhibit so faithfully the peculiar characteristics
of the private lives of public men.
THE COCKNEY'S LETTER.