The Reader is requested to keep in mind that those events which I relate
of myself when “mewling in my nurse’s arms,” and until my fourth year,
were communicated to me by my parents, and that my statements from that
period are mostly from my own memory;--Miranda proved to Prospero that
she recollected an event in her fourth year.
1766.
My father informed me, that in the evening of the 23rd of June 1766,
which must have been much about the time when Marylebone Gardens echoed
the melodious notes of Tommy Lowe,[2] and whilst there was _The Devil
to Pay_ at Richmond with Mr. and Mrs. Love,[3] my mother, on returning
from a visit to her brother, Mr. Edward Tarr,[4] became so seriously
indisposed, that she most strenuously requested him to allow her to
return home in a hackney coach, whilst he went to Jermyn Street for Dr.
Hunter.[5] Upon that gentleman’s arrival at my father’s door, No. 7, in
Great Portland Street,[6] Marylebone, he assisted the nurse in conveying
my mother and myself to her chamber. Although I dare not presume to
suppose that the vehicle in which I was born had been the equipage of
the great John Duke of Marlborough, or Sarah his Duchess, at all events
I probably may be correct in the conjecture that the hack was in some
degree similar to those introduced by Kip, in his Plates for Strype’s
edition of Stowe.[7]
Hackney chairs were then so numerous, that their stands extended round
Covent Garden, and often down the adjacent streets;[8] these vehicles
frequently enabled physicians to approach their patients in a warm state.
The forms of those to which I allude are also given in Kip’s prints above
mentioned; and who knows but that they, in their turn, have conveyed
Voltaire from the theatre to his lodging in Maiden Lane?[9]
That sedans were of ancient use I make no doubt, as I find one introduced
in Sir George Staunton’s Embassy to China.[10] Pliny has stated that
his uncle was much accustomed to be carried abroad in a chair.[11]
My parents, after a fireside debate, agreed that I should have two
Christian names: John, after my grandfather, a Shropshire clothier, whose
bust, modelled by my father, was one of the first publicly exhibited by
the Associated Artists in 1763, before the establishment of the Royal
Academy;[12] and Thomas, to the honour of our family, in remembrance of
my great-uncle, Admiral Smith, better known under the appellation of “Tom
of Ten Thousand,”[13] of whom I have a spirited half-length portrait,
painted by the celebrated Richard Wilson, the landscape painter, previous
to his visiting Rome, when he resided in the apartments on the north
side of Covent Garden, which had been occupied first by Sir Peter Lely,
and afterwards by Sir Godfrey Kneller.[14] From this picture there is an
excellent engraving in mezzotinto, by Faber.
I have heard my mother relate, that when at Greenwich this year for the
benefit of her health, an aged pie and cheesecake woman lived there, who
was accompanied through the town by a goose, who regularly stopped at her
customer’s door, and commenced a loud cackling; but that whenever the
words “Not to-day” were uttered, off it waddled to the next house, and so
on till the business of the day was ended. My mother also remarked, that
when ladies walked out, they carried nosegays in their hands, and wore
three immense lace ruffle cuffs on each elbow.[15]
In the month of March, this year, died Mary Mogg, at Oakingham, the woman
who gave rise to Gay’s celebrated ballad of “Molly Mogg.”[16]
In all ages there has been a fashion in amusements, as well as in dress:
grottoes, which were numerous round London, appear by the advertisements
to have been places of great resort, but above all Finch’s, in St.
George’s Fields, was the favourite. The following is a copy of one of the
musical announcements:--
“6th of May, 1766.
“MR. HOUGHTON AND MR. MITCHELL’S NIGHT.
“AT FINCH’S GROTTO Garden, This Day, will be performed a
Concert of VOCAL and INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC. SINGING as usual.
“N.B. For that Night only, the Band will be enlarged.
Tickets to be had at the Bar of the Gardens. Admittance One
Shilling.”[17]
1767.
Being frequently thrown into my cradle by the servant, as a cross little
brat, the care of my tender mother induced her to purchase one of Mr.
Burchell’s anodyne necklaces, so strongly recommended by two eminent
physicians, Dr. Tanner, the inventor, and Dr. Chamberlen, to whom he had
communicated the prescription; and it was agreed by most of my mother’s
gossiping friends, that the effluvia arising from it when warm acted in
so friendly a manner, that my fevered gums were considerably relieved.[18]
Go-carts, the old appendages of our nurseries, continuing in use, I was
occasionally placed in one; and as its advantages have been noticed in
my work entitled _Nollekens and his Times_, I shall now only refer the
reader for its form to Number 186 of “Rembrandt’s Etchings;”[19] that
being similar, as my father informed me, to those used in London in my
infantine days.[20]
The cradle having of late years been in a great degree superseded by what
is called a cot,[21] and its shape not being remarkable, I shall for a
moment beg leave to deal in a foreign market, in order to gratify the
indefatigable organ of inquisitiveness of some of my readers, who may
wish to know in what sort of cradle Stratford’s sweet Willy slumbered.
Possibly it might in some respects have accorded with the representation
of one in a small plate by Israel Von Meckenen,[22] and this conjecture
is not improbable, as that plate was engraved about the sixteenth
century; and it is well known that in most articles of furniture, as
well as dress, we had long borrowed from our continental neighbours,
whether good, bad, or indifferent. It gives me great pleasure to observe
that, owing to the vast improvements made by our draughtsmen for English
upholsterers, in every article of domestic decorative furniture, England
has now little occasion to borrow from other nations.
[Illustration: NANCY DAWSON
“See how she comes to give surprise
With joy and pleasure in her eyes.”
_Old Song, “Nancy Dawson”_]
Nancy Dawson, the famous hornpipe dancer, died this year, May 27th, at
Hampstead; she was buried behind the Foundling Hospital, in the ground
belonging to St. George the Martyr, where there is a tombstone to her
memory, simply stating, “Here lies Nancy Dawson.” Every verse of a song
in praise of her, declares the poet to be dying for Nancy Dawson; and
its tune, which many of my readers must recollect, is, in my opinion,
as lively as that of “Sir Roger de Coverley.” I have been informed that
Nancy, when a girl, set up the skittles at a tavern in High Street,
Marylebone.[23] Sir William Musgrave, in his _Adversaria_ (No. 5719), in
the British Museum, says that “Nancy Dawson was the wife of a publican
near Kelso, on the borders of Scotland.”[24]
1768.
At the age when most children place things on their heads and cry “Hot
pies!” I displayed a black pudding upon mine, which my mother, careful
soul, had provided for its protection in case I should fall. This is
another article mentioned in _Nollekens and his Times_; and having there
stated that Rubens, in a picture at Blenheim, had painted one on the head
of a son of his, walking with his wife Elenor,[25] and as the mothers of
future days may wish to know its shape, I beg to inform them that there
is an engraving of it by MacArdell. But as the receipt for a pet pudding
would be of little use to the maker were one ingredient omitted, it would
be equally difficult to produce a similar black pudding to mine, were I
not to state that it was made of a long narrow piece of black silk or
satin, padded with wadding, and then formed to the head according to the
taste of the parent, or similar to that of little Rubens.[26]
In this year the Royal Academy was founded, consisting of members who
had agreed to withdraw themselves from various clubs, not only in order
to be more select as to talent, but perfectly correct as to gentlemanly
conduct. It would have been a valuable acquisition to the History of
the Fine Arts in England, had Mr. Howard favoured us with the Rise and
Progress of the Royal Academy.[27]
Perhaps no one could have been more talked of than Mr. Wilkes,
particularly on May 10th, when a riot took place on account of his
imprisonment.[28] His popularity was carried to so great an extent, that
his friends in all classes displayed some article on which his effigy was
portrayed, such as salad or punch bowls, ale or milk jugs, plate, dishes,
and even heads of canes. The squib engravings of him, published from the
commencement of his notoriety to his silent state when Chamberlain of
London, would extend to several volumes. Hogarth’s portrait of him, which
by the collectors was considered a caricature, my father recommended as
the best likeness.
The following memoranda respecting Henry Fuseli, R.A., are extracted from
the Mitchell Manuscripts in the British Museum. The letter is from Mr.
Murdock, of Hampstead, to a friend at Berlin, dated Hampstead, 12th June
1764:--
“I like Fuseli very much; he comes out to see us at times, and is just
now gone from this with your letter to A. Ramsay, and another from me. He
is of himself disposed to all possible economy; but to be decently lodged
and fed, in a decent family, cannot be for less than three shillings a
day, which he pays. He might, according to Miller’s wish, live a little
cheaper; but then he must have been lodged in some garret, where nobody
could have found their way, and must have been thrown into ale-houses
and eating-houses, with company every way unsuitable, or, indeed,
insupportable to a stranger of any taste; especially as the common people
are of late brutalised.
“Some time hence, I hope, he may do something for himself; his talent at
grouping figures, and his faculty of execution, being really surprising.”
In the same volume, in a letter dated Hampstead, 12th Jan. 1768, the same
writer says to the same friend--
“Fuseli goes to Italy next spring, by the advice of Reynolds (our
Apelles), who has a high opinion of his genius, and sees what is wanting
to make him a first-rate.”[29]
[Illustration: R.A.’S REFLECTING ON THE TRUE LINE OF BEAUTY AT THE LIFE
ACADEMY, SOMERSET HOUSE.]
In another, dated Hampstead, 13th December 1768: “Fuseli is still here;
but proposes to set out for Italy as soon as his friends can secure to
him fifty pounds yearly, for a few years. Dr. Armstrong,[30] who admires
his genius, has taxed himself at ten pounds, and has taken us in for as
much more; and indeed it were shameful that such talents should be sunk
for want of a little pecuniary aid.”
The ladies this year wore half a flat hat as an eye-shade.
1769.
Lord North, in a letter addressed to Sir Eardley Wilmot from Downing
Street, bearing date this year, April 1st, says--
“My friend Colonel Luttrell having informed me that many
persons depending upon the Court of Common Pleas are
freeholders of Middlesex, etc., not having the honour of being
acquainted with you himself, desires me to apply to you for
your interest with your friends in his behalf. It is manifest
how much it is for the honour of Parliament, and the quiet
of this country in future times, that Mr. Wilkes should have
an antagonist at the next Brentford election; and that his
antagonist should meet with a respectable support. The state of
the country has been examined, and there is the greatest reason
to believe that the Colonel will have a very considerable show
of legal votes, nay, even a majority, if his friends are not
deterred from appearing at the poll. It is the game of Mr.
Wilkes and his friends to increase those alarms, but they
cannot frighten the _candidate_ from his purpose; and I am very
confident that the voters will run no risk. I hope, therefore,
you will excuse this application. There is nothing, I imagine,
that every true friend of this country must wish more than to
see Mr. Wilkes disappointed in his projects; and nothing, I am
convinced, will defeat them more effectually, than to fill up
the vacant seat for Middlesex, especially if it can be done for
a fair majority of legal votes.
“I am, Sir, with the greatest truth and respect, your most
faithful, humble servant,
“NORTH.”
The Judge, in his answer, dated on the following day, observed, “It would
be highly improper for me to interfere in any shape in that election.”
(See the Wilmot Letters, in the British Museum.)[31]
This year ladies continued to walk with fans in their hands.
1770.
Most of the citizens who had saved money were very fond of retiring
to some country-house, at a short distance from the Metropolis, and
more particularly to Islington, that being a selected and favourite
spot. Charles Bretherton, Jun., made an etching, from a drawing by
Mr. Bunbury,[32] of a Londoner, of the above description, whose
waistcoat-pockets were large enough to convey a couple of fowls from a
City feast home to his family. The print is entitled, “The Delights of
Islington,” and bears the following inscription at the top:--
WHEREAS my new Pagoda has been clandestinely carried off, and a
new pair of Dolphins taken from the top of the Gazebo, by some
Bloodthirsty Villains; and whereas a great deal timber has been
cut down and carried away from the Old Grove, that was planted
last Spring, and Pluto and Proserpine thrown into my Basin:
from henceforth, Steel Traps and spring guns will be constantly
set for the better extirpation of such a nest of villains,
By me, JEREMIAH SAGO.
[Illustration: “THE DELIGHTS OF ISLINGTON”]
On a garden notice-board, in another print, also after Bunbury, published
at the same time, is inscribed,