“Come,” said Mr. Keyse, putting his hand upon my shoulder, “the bell
rings, not for prayers, nor for dinner, but for the song.” As soon as
we had reached the orchestra, the singer curtsied to us, for we were
the only persons in the gardens. “This is sad work,” said he, “but the
woman must sing according to our contract.” I recollect that the singer
was handsome, most dashingly dressed, immensely plumed, and villainously
rouged; she smiled as she sang, but it was not the bewitching smile of
Mrs. Wrighten,[266] then applauded by thousands at Vauxhall Gardens.
As soon as the Spa lady had ended her song, Keyse, after joining me
in applause, apologised for doing so, by observing that, as he never
suffered his servants to applaud, and as the people in the road (whose
ears were close to the cracks in the paling to hear the song), would make
a bad report if they had not heard more than the clapping of one pair of
hands, he had in this instance expressed his reluctant feelings.
As the lady retired from the front of the orchestra, she, to keep herself
in practice, curtsied to me with as much respect as she would had Colonel
Topham been the patron of a gala night.[267] “This is too bad,” again
observed Keyse; “and I am sure you cannot expect fireworks!” However,
he politely asked me to partake of a bottle of Lisbon, which upon my
refusing, he pressed me to accept of a catalogue of his pictures.
Blewitt[268] (who at that time lived in Bermondsey Square), the scholar
of Jonathan Battishill,[269] was the composer for the Spa establishment.
The following verse is the first of his most admired composition,--“In
lonely cot by Humber’s side.”
My old and worthy friend _Joseph_ Caulfield,[270] Blewitt’s favourite
pupil, of whom he learned thorough bass, related to me the following
anecdote of a musical composer, as told him by his master:--“When I
was going upstairs,” said Blewitt, “to the attics, where one of my
instructors lived (for I had many), I hesitated on the second-floor
landing-place, upon hearing my master and his wife at high words. ‘Get
you gone!’ said the lofty paper-ruffled composer, ‘retire to your
apartments!’ This command of her lord she did not immediately obey;
however, in a short time after, I heard the clattering of plates against
the wall, and upon entering the room, I discovered that the lady had
retired, but not before she had covered the whitewashed wall profusely
with the unbroiled sprats.”
“I was at a musical party,” continued my friend Joseph, “at Lord
Sandwich’s,[271] in Hertford Street, Mayfair, when, among other
specimens of the best masters, I heard Battishill’s beautiful composition
of
“Amidst the myrtles as I walk,
Love and myself thus entered talk,
‘Tell me,’ said I, in deep distress,
‘Where I may find my Shepherdess.’”[272]
Upon expressing my pleasure at hearing the above performed in so superior
a style, his Lordship told me he had written a sequel, which he thus
repeated:--
“Love said to me, ‘Thou faithful swain,
Thy search in myrtle groves is vain;
Examine well thy noblest part,
Thou’lt find her seated in thy heart.’”
It appears that in poetry, as well as in painting and prints, and also
in dwellings, decorations, and dress, there has ever been a fashion for
a time. Battishill was the composer of that justly celebrated glee,
commencing with “Underneath this _myrtle_ shade.” Myrtles, after having
had a great run, were succeeded by Cupid’s darts; and that little rogue
Love played _old gooseberry_ with the hearts of Chloes and Colins, Robins
and Robinets; then the ever-blooming lasses of Patterdale and Richmond
Hill attracted our giddy notice. These were succeeded by “Bacchus in
green ivy bound,” giving “Joy and pleasure all around.” After that,
moonlight meetings were preferred, and “Buy a broom, ladies,” was
continually dinning our ears “through and through.”
1796.
In the summer of this year, the late John Wigston, Esq., then of
Millfield House, Edmonton, having repeatedly expressed a wish to see the
famous George Morland before he commenced a collection of his pictures,
I having been known to that child of nature in my boyish days, offered
to introduce them to each other.[273] Morland then resided in Charlotte
Street, Fitzroy Square, in the house formerly inhabited by Sir Thomas
Apreece. He received us in the drawing-room, which was filled with
easels, canvases, stretching-frames, gallipots of colour, and oil-stones;
a stool, chair, and a three-legged table were the only articles of
furniture of which this once splendid apartment could then boast. Mr.
Wigston, his generous-hearted visitor, immediately bespoke a picture, for
which he gave him a draft for forty pounds, that sum being exactly the
money he then wanted; but this gentleman had, like most of that artist’s
employers, to ply him close for his picture.
[Illustration: GEORGE MORLAND
“There! go back and tell the pawnbroker to advance me five guineas more
upon it.”]
As Mrs. Wigston had a great desire to see Morland, he was invited to
take a day’s sport with the hounds, which the artist accepted, with a
full assurance of punctuality. However, as usual with that eccentric
man, he only arrived time enough for dinner, accompanied by eight of
those persons denominated _his friends_. Mrs. Wigston, an elegant and
most accomplished lady, was in consequence deprived of a sight of this
far-famed genius. I was deputed by my honoured friend Mr. Wigston to
take Mrs. Wigston’s abdicated chair, and carved for this pretty set,
consisting of persons unaccustomed to sit at such a table. Our worthy
host soon discovered their strong propensity for spirituous liquors,
three of them even during dinner, instead of taking wine, of which there
were many sorts on the table, calling for a glass of brandy. After
hearing several jokes and humorous songs from some of the party, George
Morland declared he must go, having an engagement with Mrs. Laye, and
other friends, at “Otter’s Pool.”[274]
When Morland and his party entered the stable-yard, the following
altercation took place between Mr. Wigston and his groom.
_Mr. Wigston._--“Bring out these gentlemen’s horses.”
_Groom._--“Horses, horses! they’ll find ’um at the ‘Two Jolly Brewers.’
Horses, indeed!”
_Mr. Wigston._--“And why, Sir, were they sent there?”
_Groom._--“Why, I would not suffer such cattle to come near your stud;
for I never saw such a set-out in my life!”
The party accordingly betook themselves to the “Brewers”; but upon our
return to the honest though rough diamond of a groom, he observed that it
was past two o’clock, and that the dog ought to have been let loose two
hours ago!
1797.
Although my mother continued till the time of her death in the habit
of the Society of Friends, and my father followed most of the popular
Methodists, I, from my earliest days of reflection, gave a preference
to the Established Church of England. Notwithstanding this, my
inquisitiveness now and then induced me to hear celebrated preachers of
every sect. I remember one Sunday morning in this year, after intending
to enter some church on my way to dine with my great-aunt on Camberwell
Green, my ears were most agreeably greeted with the swelling pipes of
the Surrey Chapel organ.[275] Why, thinks I to myself, should not I
hear Rowland Hill? Surely it must be now full twenty years since I saw
him in Moorfields, at my last visit to the Tabernacle. In I accordingly
went; and though a smile with me was always deemed highly indecorous
during divine worship, yet the truth must out; I could not help sometimes
laughing--as heartily, though not so loudly, I hope, as all of us when
led into the enjoyment of Momus’s strongest fits by the inimitable
Mathews.
No sooner was the sermon over and the blessing bestowed, than Rowland
electrified his hearers by vociferating, “Door-keepers, shut the doors!”
Slam went one door; bounce went another; bang went a third; at last,
all being anxiously silent as the most importantly unexpected scenes of
Sir Walter Scott could make them, the pastor, with a slow and dulcet
emphasis, thus addressed his congregation:--“My dearly beloved, I speak
it to my shame, that this sermon was to have been a charity sermon,
and if you will only look down into the green pew at those--let me
see--three and three are six, and one makes seven, young men with red
morocco prayer-books in their hands, poor souls! they were backsliders,
for they went on the Serpentine River, and other far distant waters,
on a Sabbath; they were, however, as you see, all saved from a watery
grave. I need not tell ye that my exertions were to have been for the
benefit of that benevolent institution the Humane Society.--_What!_ I
see some of ye already up to be gone; fie! fie! fie!--never heed your
dinners; don’t be Calibans, nor mind your pockets. I know that some of
ye are now attending to the devil’s whispers. I say, listen to me! take
my advice, give shillings instead of sixpences; and those who intended
to give shillings, display half-crowns, in order not only to thwart the
foul fiend’s mischievousness, but to get your pastor out of this scrape;
and if you do, I trust Satan will never put his foot within this circle
again. Hark ye! I have hit upon it; ye shall leave us directly. The Bank
Directors, you must know, have called in the dollars; now, if any of you
happen to be encumbered with a stale dollar or two, jingle the Spanish in
our dishes; we’ll take them, they’ll pass current here. Stay, my friends,
a moment more. I am to dine with the Humane Society on Tuesday next, and
it would shock me beyond expression to see the strings of the Surrey
Chapel lay dangle down its sides like the tags upon Lady Huntingdon’s
servants’ shoulders. Now, mind what I say, upon this occasion I wish for
a bumper as strenuously as Master Hugh Peters did, when he recommended
his congregation in Broadway Chapel to take a second glass.” It is
recorded that when he found the sand of his hour-glass had descended, he
turned it, saying, “Come, I know you to be jolly dogs, we’ll take t’other
glass.”[276] I understand that Rowland Hill is not made up of veneer, but
of solid well-seasoned stuff, with a heart of oak, and ever willing to
exercise kindness to his fellow-creatures, upon the system of my friend
Charles Lamb.[277]
[Illustration: ROWLAND HILL
“His ideas come red hot from the heart.”
_Sheridan_]
In May this year I applied to my worthy friend, Mr. John Constable, now a
Royal Academician, for any particulars which he might be able to procure
respecting Gainsborough, he being also a Suffolk man; and I had the
pleasure of receiving the following letter:--
“EAST BERGHOLT, _7th May, 1797_.
“_Dear Friend Smith_,--If you remember, in my last I promised
to write again soon, and tell you what I could about
Gainsborough. I hope you will not think me negligent when I
inform you that I have not been able to learn anything of
consequence respecting him: I can assure you it is not for the
want of asking that I have not been successful, for indeed I
have talked with those who knew him. I believe in Ipswich
they did not know his value till they lost him. He belonged to
something of a musical club in that town, and painted some of
their portraits in a picture of a choir; it is said to be very
curious.
“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.