“MY DEAR SIR,--Your desire to know the place of my nativity,
the profession for which I was intended, my first appearance
on the stage, and in town. This both honours and gratifies me,
inasmuch as your request places my name with men of genius and
education, the persons of all others I am most ambitious to be
found with.
“The city of Bristol gave me birth, in 1778.[382] I was
brought up an artist, which profession I quitted for studies
more congenial to my feelings. Immortal Shakspeare wrought
the change, and his great contemporaries added fuel to flame.
Notwithstanding this mighty stimulus, in the year 1798 I made
my first attempt, in the part of young Hob, in _Hob in the
Well_,[383] in a town in Radnorshire, the theatre a barn in the
environs; the receipts seven shillings; my share sevenpence. I
removed from this luxury to the Stafford Company, thence to the
York Theatre, where I succeeded my friend Mathews, and in which
situation I remained seven years.
“October 12th, 1809, I made my début in London, in the Theatre
Royal, Lyceum, with the Drury Lane Company. The devouring
element had destroyed that magnificent pile Old Drury, which
caused the professors to employ that place of refuge. The
pieces I selected for the terrific ordeal, were _The Soldier’s
Daughter_ and _Fortune’s Frolic_;[384] the characters, Timothy
Quaint and Robin Roughhead. The public were infinitely more
kind than my negative merits deserved; and with gratitude I
acknowledge, that up to the present period, their bounty very
far exceeds the humble ability of their devoted servant, and
your true friend,
“EDWARD KNIGHT.[385]
“THEATRE ROYAL, DRURY LANE,
“GARDEN COTTAGE, COVENT GARDEN, GROUND CHAMBERS,
“_Nov. 15th, 1823_.”
1824.
The following notice is written in my album this year, by Major
Cartwright:--
“John Cartwright, born at Marnham, near Tuxford, in the county of
Nottingham, on the 17th of September, 1740, old style, corresponding with
the 28th, new style. In the year 1758 he entered the naval service, under
the command of Lord Howe; was promoted to a lieutenancy in September,
1762, and continued on active service until the spring of 1771. Then
retiring to recruit his health, he remained at Marnham till invited by
his old Commander-in-chief, in the year 1775 or 1776; but not approving
of the war with America, he declined accepting the proffered commission.
About the same time he became Major of the regiment of Nottinghamshire
Militia, then for the first time raised in that county, in which he
served seventeen years.
“When George III. arrived at the year of the Jubilee, a naval promotion
of twenty Lieutenants to the rank of Commanders, and the name of J. C.
standing the twentieth on the list, he was commissioned as a Commander
accordingly.
“In the year 1802 he published _The Trident_, a work in quarto, having
for its object to promote that elevation of character which can
alone preserve the vital spirit of a navy, as well as to furnish an
inexhaustible patronage of the arts.
“JOHN CARTWRIGHT, residing in Burton Crescent, _26th Jan., 1824_.”
The Major died on the 23rd of September this year, at his house in Burton
Crescent, at the venerable age of eighty-four.[386]
1825.
An author, in whose real character I was for many years deceived,
frequently importuned me to caricature literary females. But this
malicious advice, being repugnant to my feelings, I never could listen
to, nor is it my intention even to make public a memory-sketch now in my
possession of the adviser, when he was stooping over and pretending to
kiss the putrid corpse of him a portion of whose vast property he is in
possession of, and, I was going to say, happily enjoys.[387] Profoundly
learned as the person above alluded to considers himself to be, the
reader will, after perusing the following lines, written purposely for my
album, be convinced that jealousy towards the fair sex must be that man’s
master-passion.
IMPROMPTU LINES BY MISS BENGER, ON THE PAUCITY OF INFORMATION RESPECTING
THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF SHAKSPEARE.
Lives there, redeemed from dull oblivion’s waste,
One cherished line that _Shakspeare’s_ hand has traced?
Vain search! though glory crowns the poet’s bust,
His story sleeps with his unconscious dust.
Born--wedded--buried! Such the common lot,
And such was his. What more? almost a blot!
Even on his laurelled head with doubt we gaze;
And _fancy_ best his lineaments portrays.
Thus like an Indian deity enshrined,
In mystery is his image; whilst the mind
To us bequeathed, belongs to all mankind.
Yet here he lived; his manly high career
Of strange vicissitude, was measured here.
Not his the envied privilege to hail
The Eternal City! or in Tempe’s vale
Breathe inspiration with luxurious sighs,
And dream of Heaven beneath unclouded skies.
His sphere was bounded, and we almost trace
His daily haunts, where he was wont to chase
Unwelcome cares, or visions fair recall;
His breath still lingers on the cloistral wall,
With gloom congenial to his spirit fraught;
And thou, O Thames, his lonely sighs hast caught.
When one, the rhyming Charon of his day,
Who tugged the oar, yet conned a merry lay,
Full oft unconscious of the freight he bore,
Transferred the musing bard from shore to shore.
Too careless _Taylor!_ hadst thou well divined
The marvellous man to thy frail skiff consigned,
Thou shouldst have craved one tributary line,
To blend his glorious destiny with thine!
Nor vain the prayer!--who generous homage pays
To genius, wins the second meed of praise.[388]
The much-famed Cup, carved from Shakspeare’s Mulberry-tree, lined with,
and standing on a base of silver, with a cover surmounted by a branch
of mulberry leaves and fruit, also of silver-gilt, which was presented
to Mr. Garrick on the occasion of the Jubilee at Stratford-upon-Avon,
was sold by Mr. Christie on May the 5th, 1825,[389] who addressed the
assembly nearly in the following words, for the recollection of which I
am obliged to the memory of my worthy friend, Henry Smedley, Esq.:[390]--
“Though this is neither the age nor the country in which relics
are made the objects of devotion, yet that which I am now to
submit to you must recall to your recollection the Stratford
Jubilee, when the pilgrims to the shrine of Avon were actuated
by a zeal as fervent as could have been exhibited either at
Loretto or Compostella. Let me then entreat a liberal bidding,
when I invoke you by the united names of Shakspeare and of
Garrick. I perceive that this little Cup is now submitted to
eyes well accustomed to appreciate the most exquisite treasures
of ancient arts; and that the rough and natural bark of the
mulberry-tree is regarded with as much veneration as the
choicest carving of Cellini or Fiamingo.”
After one hundred guineas had been bid, Mr. Christie added, “I was
wishing that I had some of Falstaff’s sack here, with which I might fill
the Cup, and pledge this company, so as to invigorate their biddings;
but I think I may say now that at least there is no want of spirit among
them.”
1826.
The term _busby_, now sometimes used when a large bushy wig is spoken of,
most probably originated from the wig denominated a buzz, frizzled and
bushy. At all events, we are not satisfied that the term busby could have
arisen, as many persons believe, from Dr. Busby, Master of Westminster
School, as all his portraits either represent him with a close cap, or
with a cap and hat.[391]
During a most minute investigation of a regular series of English
portraits, which I was led into by a friend, in order, if possible, to
clear up this point, I was induced to look for the origin of wigs in
England, and their various sorts and successions, by commencing at the
time of William the Conqueror. In this search I was not able to find any
representation of wigs earlier than those worn by King Charles II.[392]
upon his Restoration, in proof of which I refer the reader to Faithorne’s
numerous portraits of that monarch, and he will find that that sort of
wig continued to be worn, with very little deviation, by succeeding kings
till George II.’s time, with whom it ended. The Merry Monarch, it has
been stated, followed the fashion of wearing a wig from Louis XIV.,[393]
with whom that custom commenced with the kings of France. The Duke of
Burgundy wore a wig.
King George III. commenced his reign with wearing his own hair dressed
and powdered in the style of Woollett’s beautiful engraving of his
Majesty,[394] after a picture painted by Ramsey. King George III. wore a
wig, in the latter part of his reign, made from one of those worn by Mr.
Duvall, one of the masons of the Board of Works, with which shape his
Majesty was much pleased.
The line in Pope,
“Eternal buckle takes in Parian stone,”
alludes to the wig carved on the monument of Sir Cloudesley Shovel in
Westminster Abbey.[395]
This sort of wig, which received the appellation of “A Brown George,”
was also worn by several persons of rank, particularly the late Earl of
Cremorne.[396] Townsend, a Bow-street officer, condescendingly noticed
by the King, thought proper to wear a wig of this kind, in which he
appeared at the morning service in Westminster Abbey.
It is worthy of observation, that in the reign of King Charles II. the
Lord Mayors of London followed his Majesty’s example, by wearing wigs
precisely of the same make, and equal to those worn by the Royal Family,
the highest courtiers, and persons of the first eminence in official
capacities. Nay indeed, Sir Edmund Berry Godfrey, a wood and coal-monger,
wore wigs of this shape, perhaps because he was a Justice of the Peace
within the King’s Court. The same kind of wig, equally deep, but with
curls rather looser and more tastefully flowing, was also worn by the
following high literary characters in the reigns of Charles II., James
II., William III., and Queen Anne:--Waller, Dryden, Addison, Steele,
Congreve, Vanbrugh, Butler, Rowe, Prior, Wycherley, etc.[397] Of these,
perhaps the two last-mentioned were the most foppish in their wigs,
particularly Wycherley, from whom the sets of large and beautifully
engraven combs of the finest tortoise-shell are named. With these combs
(which were carried in cases in their pockets) the wearers of wigs
adjusted their curls, ruffled and entangled by the wind. These combs are
held as curiosities by many of our old families. The last I saw was in
the possession of the friendly Dr. Meyrick, author of _The History of
Armour_. I have somewhere read that Wycherley, who was esteemed one of
the handsomest men of his day, was frequently seen standing in the pit
of the theatre combing and adjusting the curls of his wig, whilst in
lolling conversation with the first ladies of fashion in the boxes.[398]
Most of Sir Godfrey Kneller’s portraits were painted in this flowing wig,
particularly that celebrated series entitled Queen Anne’s Admirals.[399]
These pictures were lately moved by command of King George IV. from
Hampton Court Palace to the Nautical Gallery in Greenwich Hospital, where
they are placed to the highest advantage among numerous other portraits
of England’s naval victors.
The actors at this time wore immense wigs, particularly Bullock,
Penkethman, etc.; Cibber’s was in moderation. It must here be observed,
that I now allude to their private wigs; their state wigs were, as
they are now, purposely caricatured to please the galleries.[400] I
believe that the first wig worn by an English divine was that of John
Wallis,[401] engraved by Burghers, and published at Oxford in the year
1699; it was profusely curled, but not so deep over the shoulders as
those of statesmen.
There were many singular, and, indeed, learned characters whose wigs
were peculiarly shaped, such, for instance, as that of Bubb Doddington,
Lord Chesterfield, and the Duke of Newcastle. MacArdell’s print of Lord
Anson, after a picture by Sir Joshua Reynolds, was, I have every reason
to think, the first of the shape erroneously called the Busby. This sort,
Dr. Samuel Johnson, Armstrong, Hunter, the Rev. George Whitfield, Lord
Monboddo, etc., wore in their latter years.
[Illustration: DR. OLIVER GOLDSMITH
“The fellow took me for a tailor.”]
The earliest engraved portraits of Dr. Johnson exhibit a wig with
five rows of curls, commonly called “a story wig.”[402] Among the old
dandies of this description of wig we may class Mr. Saunders Welch, Mr.
Nollekens’ father-in-law--he had nine storeys. So was that worn by Mr.
Nathaniel Hillier,[403] an extensive print-collector, as is represented
in an engraved portrait of that gentleman. Dr. Goldsmith’s wig was small
and remarkably slovenly, as may be seen by Bretherton’s etching. Sir
Joshua’s portrait of him is without a wig. Mr. Garrick’s wigs (I mean
his private ones) were three in number,--the first is engraved by Wood,
published in the year 1745; the second is by Sherwin, engraved for Tom
Davies; the last is from a private plate by Mrs. Solly, after a drawing
by Dance. I will leave off here with the wig, and give a few instances
of the tails. These perhaps originated with the Chinese, but the first
specimen of a tail, which I have hitherto been able to procure, to
which a date can be given, is in Sherwin’s print of Frederick, King of
Prussia.[404]
1827.
The Londoners, but more particularly the inhabitants of Westminster, who
had been for years accustomed to recreate within the chequered shade of
Millbank’s willows, have been by degrees deprived of that pleasure, as
there are now very few trees remaining, and those so scanty of foliage,
by being nearly stript of their bark, that the public are no longer
induced to tread their once sweetly variegated banks.[405]
Here, on many a summer’s evening, Gainsborough, accompanied by his
friend Collins, amused himself by sketching docks and nettles, which
afforded the Wynants and Cuyp-like effects to the foregrounds of his
rich and glowing landscapes. Collins resided in Tothill Fields, and was
the modeller of rustic subjects for tablets of chimneypieces in vogue
about seventy years back. Most of them were taken from Æsop’s Fables, and
are here and there to be met with in houses that have been suffered to
remain in their original state. I recollect one, that of the “Bear and
Bee-hives,” in the back drawing-room of the house formerly the mansion of
the Duke of Ancaster on the western side of Lincoln’s Inn Fields.[406]
Millbank, which originally extended with its pollarded willows from
Belgrave House[407] to the White Lead Mills at the corner of the lane
leading to “Jenny’s Whim,” afforded similar subjects to those selected by
four of the old rural painters; for instance, the boat-builders’ sheds on
the bank, with their men at work on the shore, might have been chosen by
Everdingen;[408] the wooden steps from the bank, the floating timber, and
old men in their boats, with the Vauxhall and Battersea windmills, by Van
Goyen;[409] the various colours of the tiles of the cart-sheds, entwined
by the autumnal tinged vines, backed with the most prolific orchards,
with the women gathering the garden produce for the ensuing day’s market,
would have pleased Ruysdael;[410] and the basket-maker’s overhanging
smoking hut, with a woman in her white cap and sunburnt petticoat,
dipping her pail for water, might have been represented by the pencil of
Dekker.[411] It was within one of the Neat House Gardens[412] near this
bank that Garnerin’s kitten descended from the balloon which ascended
from Vauxhall Gardens in the year 1802.[413] This descent is thus handed
down in a song attributed to George Colman the younger, entitled