_31st._—Finished Boswell’s Life of Johnson: the author still continuing

a pompous egotist, servile, selfish, and cunning; as is evident from the

documents and pictures he gives of himself; and defending and

condemning, not according to any principles which his own experience and

observation had taught, but in conformity to those opinions, whatever

they might be, right or wrong, which might most probably ingratiate him

with the powerful. As a piece of biography, it is a vile performance;

but as a collection of materials, it is a mine. Called on B——. The head

of Kemble painted by him for Desenfans is a fine likeness, and a good

picture. Saw a pair of his landscapes, but indifferent performances. At

one time he copied the old masters. One of these copies after Berghem,

but in the style of Wouvermans, is a good imitation, penciled with great

labour and exactness, but not with the freedom of an original. The

subject, a man on a white Galloway, bird-catching; but the copy was not

finished, nor the nets inserted.—Wilson, he says, was indolent, and, in

his latter time, used to make several attempts at each touch, before his

hand reached the precise place. In this manner a picture would remain

several days on the easel, with but little apparent progress. If B—— be

accurate, the colours on Wilson’s palette did not exceed four, and his

common menstruum was linseed oil, instead of other oils eight or ten

times as dear. He had much comic humour, would turn from his easel to

the window, make whimsical remarks on the passengers, pause to recollect

himself, and begin painting again. He was addicted to liquor, by which

his nose became enlarged, and so irritable, that the handkerchief was

frequently applied to it, and kept in his bosom for that purpose. Glad

of every opportunity to escape from labour to his favourite indulgence,

he would say to any acquaintance who happened to call, “Come, let us go

and take a drop of something. I have painted enough for one day.”

Farrington and Hodges were his pupils, and many of the pictures that

pass for Wilson’s were painted by them, but retouched by himself. Thus

the same picture became multiplied. He would even buy copies made from

his pictures, work upon them and sell them as his own. To a certain

degree they were such, but the practice was dishonest; for an unskilful

eye could not detect the inferior parts. Arts like these are the ruin of

honest and well-earned fame. Wilson, however, was a man of uncommon

genius, of which he has left sufficient and undoubted proofs. He and Sir

Joshua had conceived some ill-founded prejudices against each other.

Under their influence, Sir Joshua once said, at the Academy,

Gainsborough was the best English landscape-painter. Wilson, happening

to be unperceived at his elbow, replied, “You mean the best English

portrait-painter.” If it was not Opie, I forget who gave me this

anecdote.

AUGUST _1st._—Proceed with Middleton’s Life of Cicero. It is full of

information. Wrote a song to-day, “Dan Cupid, &c.” and a glee yesterday,

of “Bitter pangs,” &c. for the opera. At Debrett’s, Mr Bouverie shewed

me the Cambridge paper. Flower, the editor, is a zealot of a bold but

honest character. By his paper, he must necessarily have made himself

extremely obnoxious to persons in power. He unsparingly assails all

whose creed or moral conduct he thinks reproachable. Godwin has been

several times attacked in his paper, and probably myself. A letter,

written from Ireland by a Colonel in the Guards, asserts, that the two

O’Connors, Bond, and another, whose name I have forgotten, have

consented to inform against the insurgents, and transport themselves

from Ireland, on condition that the life of Bond be spared. Lord Thanet

said, he had betted fifty guineas to half a crown, that this was a false

assertion. I think myself certain he will win. A. O’Connor is a

noble-minded man, or I am wretchedly mistaken, and it is said his

brother Roger is even his superior. Met Mr G——, whom I informed that the

comedy of “He’s Much to Blame” was written by me. He testified great

satisfaction at the shame its success brought on my persecutors, and

that the King, not knowing the author, had commanded it twice. Mentioned

its great popularity among the country theatres; invited me to

Turnham-Green, and I promised to dine there next Sunday se’nnight.

_2nd._—Read Middleton. Wrote a song “The Fiat of Fate,” Act 3. Went to

Debrett’s, read a high-flown complimentary letter, from some city

volunteers, to Colonel ——, a bankrupt, persuading him to continue in

their command, and describing him as an unfortunate man, but of

exemplary worth. A—— remarked that the aristocrats of the corps, had

thus stirred in his behalf, because he had gone through thick and thin

to serve persons in power. Walked down Constitution-Hill, and wrote

Clara’s two songs of the third act in the Park. Just as I finished, with

my pencil in my hand, I saw I was observed by General F——. We know each

other personally, but are not acquainted. Acquaintance indeed among

persons of rank, I have very few. My feelings will not suffer me to be

forward; and such persons are known only to the obtruding, or those who

minister to their immediate pleasures and vices. Men of literature lay

claim to honors, to which men of rank have but seldom any good

pretensions; and both seem jealous of their individual prerogatives.

_3rd._—Wrote Duet, Act 3. Worked at the opera. Asked Weld at Debrett’s

if he knew Boswell. He had met him at coffee-houses, etc. where B—— used

to drink hard and sit late. It was his custom during the sessions, to

dine daily with the Judges, invited or not. He obtruded himself every

where. Lowe (mentioned by him in his life of Johnson) once gave me a

humourous picture of him. Lowe had requested Johnson to write him a

letter, which Johnson did, and Boswell came in, while it was writing.

His attention was immediately fixed, Lowe took the letter, retired, and

was followed by Boswell. “Nothing,” said Lowe, “could surprise me more.

Till that moment he had so entirely overlooked me, that I did not

imagine he knew there was such a creature in existence; and he now

accosted me with the most overstrained and insinuating compliments

possible.” “How do you do, Mr Lowe? I hope you are very well, Mr Lowe.

Pardon my freedom, Mr Lowe, but I think I saw my dear friend, Dr.

Johnson, writing a letter for you”—“Yes, Sir”—“I hope you will not think

me rude, but if it would not be too great a favor, you would infinitely

oblige me, if you would just let me have a sight of it. Every thing from

that hand, you know, is so inestimable.”—“Sir, it is on my own private

affairs, but”—“I would not pry into a person’s affairs, my dear Mr Lowe;

by any means. I am sure you would not accuse me of such a thing, only if

it were no particular secret”—“Sir, you are welcome to read the

letter.”—“I thank you, my dear Mr Lowe, you are very obliging, I take it

exceedingly kind.” (having read) “It is nothing, I believe, Mr Lowe,

that you would be ashamed of”—“Certainly not”—“Why then, my dear Sir, if

you would do me another favour, you would make the obligation eternal.

If you would but step to Peele’s coffee-house with me, and just suffer

me to take a copy of it, I would do any thing in my power to oblige

you.”—“I was overcome,” said Lowe, “by this sudden familiarity and

condescension, accompanied with bows and grimaces. I had no power to

refuse; we went to the coffee-house, my letter was presently

transcribed, and as soon as he had put his document in his pocket, Mr

Boswell walked away, as erect and as proud as he was half an hour

before, and I ever afterward was unnoticed. Nay, I am not certain,”

added he, sarcastically, “whether the Scotchman did not leave me, poor

as he knew I was, to pay for my own dish of coffee.”

_4th._—Continued the opera through scene 9, Act 3. Colonel Barry at

Debrett’s, returned from Ireland: rejoiced to see each other. Spoke of

Ireland as subdued by the divisions which government had found the means

to create, and chiefly by the aid of the native yeomanry. Read reviews

and magazines.

_5th._—Corrected scene 10. Wrote song for Florid. Called on N——, who had

been sent for by the Duchess of D——; she broke her appointment, made

another, and broke that, with a note apologising, and desiring he would

come again, and bring a copy of his very excellent journal. This a good

deal resembles scenes I had with her in 1783, except that I made

application to _her_ (for recommendatory letters to our ambassador at

Paris) which Mr N—— did not. Pinkerton, Godwin, Stoddart, and J Parry,

to dinner. Stoddart, as usual, acute, but pertinacious and verbose.

Godwin clear, and concise.

_6th._—Proceeded with the opera. Walked an hour. Returned and finished

it. Nothing at Debrett’s. Have read Monthly Magazine and Review for some

days. Individually, the numbers of such works appear dull: collectively,

they afterwards become highly amusing.

_7th._—Read and sent the opera to Mr Harris, with a letter. Walked to

Godwin. He proceeds with his novel. Gave a favourable account of

Fenwick’s pamphlet on Coigley.

_8th._—Began to consider my new comedy, which I am very desirous of

enriching with numerous incidents.

_9th._—Debrett blames Robinson for publishing another translation of the

voyage of Perouse; that already published by Johnson, being complete,

the size octavo. R.’s edition is to be quarto, the plates in a grander

style. Debrett’s phrase was, he would burn his fingers. Meditated on the

comedy. Conceived two incidents arising from the poverty of my

characters, of a pawnbroker’s shop, and an antique ring. Dined with

Geiseveiller, and G——. His German friends came after dinner. F——

displayed some knowledge in Grammar; but was laughed at by me and G——,

for being a disciple of Kant.

_10th._—Rose at seven, in good spirits, and apparently excellent health;

persuaded, as I had been for some time, that my disease was gone, and my

constitution improved. While eating my breakfast, soon after eight, was

seized with a fifth fit of hemorrhoidal colic. The pain as on former

occasions excruciating, yet resisted with so much determination by me,

that I am persuaded its violence was considerably abated. I continued

very ill through the day. In the night my dreams were extremely vivid,

often disagreeable, but not always. I read and composed poetry, that

never had any other existence; engaged in metaphysical disputes; and

busied myself with the plot of a comic opera. I conceived a nobleman and

his servant, Spaniards, to have arrived at a castle with immense walls

and turrets; and that the first thing the nobleman said, must be to tell

his servant, that they were now come to the place of action, and must

make their way into that castle. The various obstacles and incidents

which this would afford, delighted me, while dreaming. A few years ago,

having a slight fever, and lying awake in the night, I found I could

speak extempore verses on any given subject, (for I proposed two or

three to myself) many of them approaching excellence, and the others

full of high sounding words, and such as would be thought excellent by

some. Fear of increasing the fever, made me rather endeavour to calm and

appease my mind, than either to proceed, or try to remember those I had

made, which might amount to above thirty lines in number, as I believe.

Have found nearly the same facility occasionally, when actually writing

poetry, after having considered my subject a certain time, and made a

certain number of verses, or rather, after rouzing the faculties. In my

sleep I have read many a page of poetry, that never was written. Others

have told me they have done the same. Mr N—— says he has several times

gone to bed with his mind wearied by considering a question of science

which he could not resolve, has slept or dozed, and the resolution has

intruded so forcibly upon his thoughts, that it has awaked him.

_11th._—Sent for Dr. Pitcairne. After he was gone, the pain rather

increased till I rose, half an hour after, when I experienced some

relief. Was induced to examine the nature of pain, and found that it is

not, and from the nature of the human frame, cannot be, incessant. Could

it be so, it must soon destroy the patient. Sensations are impelled upon

us. Trifles, the tickling of a hair, the trains of ideas which pain

itself begets, divert the attention. These intervals appear to be short

in proportion to the intensity of the pain. Played a game at chess, with

Geiseveiller: at the beginning with great brilliancy; at the end, with

great stupidity. Received a well written letter from Mrs. B——, and the

opera from Harris.

_12th._—Harris firmly of opinion the opera will be a good afterpiece,

but a dangerous first-piece, I obliged to yield, the slave of my

circumstances. He agreed to give me two hundred and fifty pounds for the

piece, and the copy-right; and, should it run twenty nights, to make the

sum three hundred. Urged me to proceed with my comedy, which I promised,

if possible, to send at the close of November. Underwood, a young

artist, called to see my pictures. He was full of admiration, but he is

a youth. Godwin called to enquire after my health, and Mrs. Foulkes.

_13th._—Pitcairne called, behaved very kindly, and refused his fee. I

could not visit Mr G——, who had invited me. The Parrys, Colonel B——,

Mrs. F——, and Geiseveiller called. Yesterday and to-day, amidst the

pain, I reduced the opera, but not completely.

_14th._—Mrs. F—— called: and Geiseveiller before and after seeing the

Road to Ruin for the first time at the Haymarket. This perhaps is the

only theatre in the three kingdoms, Drury-Lane and the Opera-House

excepted, at which it has not been acted more probably fifty times than

once. The custom of the theatres prevents its being performed in London,

except at Covent-Garden, where it first appeared.

_15th._—Wrote to Harris and Robinson. Went to Mrs. B——, who requested my

advice and aid, concerning a novel. A lively woman, upwards of sixty;

widow of Dr. B——. From a printer’s mark in the margin, there is reason

to suspect her novel has been clandestinely printed. If not, it

certainly was in preparation for the press. Completed the reduction of

the opera; and proceeded, as the day before, with reading Middleton’s

Cicero, and correcting P——’s tragedy.

_16th._—Visited by Dr. Pitcairne, to whom I had sent. Received his fee,

is to call on Saturday. Smith, the surgeon, Mrs. F——, Samuel S——,

visitors. Read Wild Oats, (having this day received O’Keefe’s works) a

farce, but one in which much invention and feeling are displayed. Wrote

an air to Dan Cupid, in Old Clothesman.

_17th._—Went to Debrett’s, after taking the warm sea-bath. Col. B—— and

others praised the Cheltenham waters, as excellent for bilious

affections. Walked home, not in the least fatigued.

_18th._—Visited by Dr. Pitcairne. Corrected tragedy.

_19th._—Walked into the Park, but overpowered with fatigue and heat,

took rest in Whitehall chapel: was too giddy to pay much attention to

the paintings of Rubens.

_20th._—Pitcairne called, thinks I ought to eat meat, refused his fee.

Hugh Trevor, and Road to Ruin, sent to Geiseveiller.

_21st._—Mr Ramsey, who had acted as a clergyman and physician in the

West Indies, returning, was one of the first promoters, by various

pamphlets, of the enquiry into the slave-trade. An agent of the planters

wrote against him, accusing him of want of humanity in his treatment of

the sick slaves. He was advanced in years, and much agitated; the

weather was hot, he made a journey, and wrote to contradict the calumny.

This brought on an inward hemorrhage, of which he died. Mr Armstrong

gave me the above account; adding, that there scarcely could be a more

humane man than Mr Ramsey. In the present state of my disorder, I am

equally afraid of eating and fasting. Debility threatens me on one hand

with the loss of power to repel the disease: and not improbably another

fit, every mouthful I swallow. Patience and cheerfulness, experience

tells me, are my best aids. I am patient, but cannot sufficiently

recollect myself, so as to assume that constant cheerfulness which pain

so frequently disturbs. This should be a temper of mind inculcated from

infancy.

_22nd._—The perseverance with which I endeavour to notice, and remember

my own sensations has occasioned Mr Armstrong to accuse me of being

subject to violent and false alarms. He is mistaken. The consciousness I

have of serenity, is too firm and permanent to be a deception; but I am

persuaded my cure must depend on a still stricter attention to facts.

Dr. Pitcairne came, prescribed, and again refused his fee. Mr Godwin

called, and Captain Johnson, an intelligent Scotch seaman, trading to

Bremen and Hamburg; says the Dutch are nearly as good sailors as the

English: as a proof, they, like the English, will navigate a small

trader with six hands, for which the French would require twelve, and

the Spaniards twenty; yet the navigation and work, are best done on

board the English and Dutch. Geiseveiller, Mrs. Shield, and T. and B.

Mercier, called.

OCTOBER _3rd._—I now mean to recommence my diary, which has been

interrupted by the disease so often before mentioned, on its coming to a

crisis, which was all but mortal.

Went to Debrett’s. Met B—— and Parry. Saw Emery and Mrs. Mills in second

and third acts of the Road to Ruin. Both have merit. Emery the most.

Second illumination night for Nelson’s victory. Passed through the mean

streets leading to the Seven Dials. The poor did not illuminate. I was

in a coach, being too weak to walk.

_4th._—Called on Carlisle. Visited P—— and bride; a woman of pleasing

manners and intelligent countenance. On return met J. Bannister and

Wathen. Dined at Kensington Gore with Mr and Mrs. B—— and J. Parry.

_5th._—Mr Attwood came by appointment, and received from me the score of

“When sharp is the frost, &c.” composed by me, but corrected by Mr

Shield for the opera of the Old Clothesman. Sent back the manuscript by

him to the theatre. Called on by J. Bannister.

_6th._—Six pints of sweet wine given me by J. Bannister.

_7th._—Music. Haydn. Fanny accompanied by Messrs. Watts and Mackenzie.

Mr Henry present. Dined at Turnham Green by invitation. Complaint of the

G—— family of the want of rational society. The villas of the place

having become the country houses of wealthy but ignorant town tradesmen.

Butchers, tailors, tallow-chandlers, &c. who make these their holiday

and Sunday seats. Message to N—— from G——, inviting communication, as

well as to dine, and further intercourse. Whimsical disputes of

half-drunken passengers in the coach, on my return, concerning, and

descriptive of Nelson’s victory. Each man, according to his own account,

minutely acquainted with all the occurrences.

_8th._—Called on N—— to deliver the message from G——. Apothecary at

Debrett’s affirms there are letters in town of Buonaparte taken with his

dispatches; particularly one to his wife, accusing the Directory of

having purposely betrayed him into an irretrievable situation of danger.

I learnt from Mr N——’s common-place book that it was on the 11th of

March, 1796, that he, Arthur O’Connor, Dr. Parr, (Bellendenus) Godwin,

Mackintosh, Opie, Powel (a young Oxonian brought by Parr), and Col. B——,

dined with me. I consider the meeting of so many celebrated as well as

extraordinary men, as an occurrence worthy of being remembered.

_9th._—Met Weld at Debrett’s, who congratulated me on my recovery in a

very friendly manner. Drank tea and sat part of the evening with Mr and

Mrs. Kemble (the father and mother of Mrs. Siddons.) She, except her

usual complaints of rheumatism, cheerful and conversable. We talked of

Hereford, Ludlow, Worcester races, Leominster, Bewdley, Bromsgrove,

Droitwich and Worcester again, as places I had played in while in the

Kemble company.

_10th._—Read the papers at Debrett’s. Weld asked Parson —— where

Buonaparte is at present? In India, past all doubt, was his answer. I

remarked that the parson had always been a fast, but fanciful traveller.

_11th._—The day rainy; played five games at billiards before dinner.

Went in the evening to see “Lovers’ Vows” played for the first time at

Covent Garden. Translated from the German by some retainer at court, as

Mrs. Inchbald told Mr Robinson, but corrected and altered by her. My

legs so swelled that I could only stay the first four acts; which at

times made me laugh, and cry heartily. Saw the Parrys at the theatre.

James, as usual, fastidious and dissatisfied.

_12th._—John Parry at Debrett’s, praised the whole play, including the

fifth act, of last night. B——, the miniature painter, with Bannister,

called: B—— saw my pictures, which he praised very much. Sold Bannister

the copy of Wilson for five guineas. Finished translating the first act

of Kotzebue’s Indian in England, which has employed me five or six days;

and as I intend essentially to alter the character of Samuel or Balaam,

more time will be employed in the revisal. This character has _keeping_

in the original but not enough of the _vis comica_.

_13th._—Walked to Brompton to return Mr S——’s call. Not at home. Back on

foot to Debrett’s: obliged to rest several times.

_14th._—Gave young Watts the letters of recommendation for the opera

band, to P—— and Salomon. Picture-dealer’s son, near Stratford-Place,

brought a little oval Wilson, bought of him by Bannister, to shew me.

The water enchantingly transparent, the sky scarcely less excellent, the

composition in itself trifling, but most happily contrived to produce

contrast. Bannister came soon after with another Wilson, which I think

doubtful, yet a charming picture if a copy. I mean as far as respects

the right hand part, the sky, and the distances. The figure seated is an

admirable thought, and no less admirably managed. The massy dark wood

(said to be Hornsey wood), appeared too lifeless for Wilson; and a

person who called afterwards with Mr Heath (I believe Corbould) said he

knew the original, of which this was a copy. The price of the two, the

picture-dealer told me, was fifteen pounds. Called with Bannister on

Wathen, and afterwards on J. Aickin, who is determined to resign.

Forebodings of bankruptcy, such trifles as wood and canvass not to be

had; yet three thousand guineas lately given for an estate. Cumberland

sent his Tiberius, which had been repeatedly refused, as a new play, to

the theatre. It was cheerfully received till the title was read, and

then immediately returned. A letter from C—— to Aickin, stated that it

was a mistake to suppose it the same Tiberius; it was no longer a

tragedy; and if magic, music, scenery, and dialogue, could interest an

audience, he had greater expectations from this, than from any piece he

had ever produced. It was the most laboured, the oftenest revised, and

the best written, of all his works. The letter concluded with an appeal

to posterity. B—— and K—— were invited to spend a week at the country

house of C——. B—— acknowledged he was partial to a good supper, and K——

the same. Of this article C—— was sparing. I suppose, gentlemen, said

he, you are no supper-eaters, a little bread and cheese and small beer

is all you take. Their false modesty and contrary wishes made them feel

awkward and look silly, but they confirmed him in his supposition. When

supper time came, the bread and cheese and small beer appeared. They

flattered themselves, however, that a bottle of wine would be the

successor. They were deceived: not a drop of wine was brought. Two or

three nights made them weary of this; and on one day, they announced

their intention of departing the next. If so, gentlemen, said the host,

I mean to give you a treat this evening before you leave me; and such a

treat! But I do not wish to anticipate. This put them in high spirits;

they imagined a couple of fowls, with good old port or madeira, would be

served up; and they had highly whetted their fancies with this

supposition. The evening came, and with it the treat. C—— approached

with a “now, gentlemen, you shall have it; you will find whether I keep

my word. Here it is. I suppose you have heard of it? Tiberius, I can

assure you the best of all my works.” So saying, he spread his

manuscript, and began to read. K—— without ceremony, fell asleep in the

first act. B—— with great difficulty listened through the second, when

the author luckily became tired of his task, either from the labour of

reading, or the drowsiness of his auditors.

_15th._—Walked out before noon, intending to proceed half way to

Hammersmith, and then take coach; but finding I had not motive enough to

overcome my weakness, turned back and went to the billiard table, where

I played an hour and a half. Such is the efficacy of having a motive.

_16th._—Nobody at Debrett’s. Finished translating the second act of the

Indians. Mr Carlisle called. I not at home.

_17th._—Called on Carlisle. Saw a picture of fish well painted, but

praised by him extravagantly.

_18th._—Walked to Debrett’s and King’s auction room. Saw Sturt, M.P. and

Parry, jun. Mr P—— called in the forenoon. Praised the passion and power

of language with which my tragedy, he says, is written.

_19th._—Finished translating the Indians. Called on Opie; saw his view

of St. Michael’s mount, a moon-light, the manner hard, but the scenery

and effects grand, and the composition good. A well painted portrait

likewise of Dr. A——. Went to Birch, saw a Berghem, as he said, but which

I doubt; a good picture. Walked from thence with Bannister, to Simpson’s

(picture cleaner). Saw the famous Niobe landscape by Wilson, and another

by him, lately bought of Sir William Beechy, which Sir William told me

was, according to Farrington’s account, partly the work of Wilson, and

partly of Farrington. Simpson angrily asserts Farrington never touched

the picture, and asks fifty guineas for it.

_20th._—Called on Sir Francis Bourgeois, saw the additional pictures of

Desenfans. He, as usual, spoke highly in praise of Kemble. Weld very

civil at Debrett’s. Billiards in the evening. Compton, auctioneer,

Moore, the attorney, another person, and Palmer, jun. author of the

epilogue to “Lovers’ Vows” came in. All extremely civil to me. When I

returned home, found Salomon, who accompanied Fanny with his usual

feeling and enthusiasm. Spoke in raptures of Haydn, which well accorded

with my own sentiments. Staid till one o’clock, and occasioned me to eat

too much supper. Promised to favour Watts, if in his power. Is desirous

of setting an English opera.

_21st._—Called on young Watts concerning the opera engagement. Saw Da

Vinci’s battle of the Standard by Edelinck; a proof at Edmonds’s,

upholsterer, cost him two guineas; cheap, I believe, at five. Saw Mrs.

Shield. After dinner, was above an hour walking with Fanny to the top of

Oxford-Street and back.

_22nd._—Wrote to Shield. Read the papers. Letter from Dr. Parry,

advising me against the Bath waters. Dined with Robinson. Thursday,

Robinson and myself are to exchange acquittances.

_23rd._—Called on Aickin. Debts accumulating, business neglected,

promises never kept. Hammersley’s receiving clerk in the treasury, the

whole in a state of disorder, yet the houses great. The Walkers, of

Manchester, ruined by the war and ministerial persecutions. Francis and

T—— at Debrett’s. The latter, as usual, sanguine in describing the

progress of Buonaparte, whom he conveys to India with great facility,

asserting, Egypt and the revolutionizing of crocodiles, were not the

objects of Buonaparte.

_24th._—Returned Mr Boaden’s call, and there saw a female portrait, said

to be by Leonardo da Vinci, but I think not, though an excellent old

picture. Met Banks, Weld, and Bosville, at Debrett’s.

_25th._—Called on Mr Compton, who advises no sale of effects till the

spring. Proceed daily, but slowly, in correcting the Indians. Papers at

Debrett’s. Robinson did not keep his appointment.

_26th._—Compton, auctioneer, called and looked at books and pictures.

Debrett’s. Wrote to Mr P——. His wife ill.

_27th._—Clementi called, but Fanny was out. Mr M—— called. He attends

the Old Bailey bar, from a desire to save the lives of the culprits.

Talked a little metaphysics. I read Pope’s character of Atticus to him.

_28th._—Called on ——, and conversed with Mr Buller on occult and final

causes. Saw Tobin’s brother. Two girls of the town, walking in Newman

Street, praised the goodness of God; and, as the weather had been very

rainy for some days, they hoped his goodness would extend itself to

render it fair all the next week, that they might walk the streets in

comfort. A man being tried for a capital offence at the Old Bailey; the

jury retired to consider of their verdict. The three principal witnesses

had been ordered out of court, after having given their testimony, but

stood in the passage at the door. The reward for convicting the man, as

usual, was forty pounds. The jury returned, and pronounced the fatal

sentence, Guilty. As soon as the sound reached these witnesses, they

jumped up, clapped their hands, and exclaimed to each other, Guilty!

Guilty! M—— was in court and witnessed the transaction.

_29th._—F——, jun. came to ask me to petition the proprietors of

Drury-Lane Theatre for a dresser’s place, for the wife of a door-keeper,

who had died suddenly, in the exercise of his office. I could not

comply, because of the very improper conduct of these proprietors in

refusing to notice the letters I wrote to them, when they ceased,

without any apparent cause, to play “Knave or Not?” But I agreed to

write a letter for the woman to copy in her own name.

_30th._—Wrote the letter; F—— having appointed to come for that purpose

at nine, was with me at ten. Young S——, and B——’s nephew, came in their

father’s name to ask for orders. Both families are rich, but I complied

and procured them. B—— and N——, M.P. being at Brighton, where Major R——

was, N—— praised the Major as a man of great information, his friend,

and one with whom B—— ought to be intimate. B—— said, they had met and

spoken, and as there could be no great harm, he would accompany N—— to

visit R——. They happened to meet him, and R—— presently took occasion to

tell N——, that, from the principles he professed, and the speeches he

had made in parliament, he could not but consider him as an enemy to his

king and country, he therefore desired they might have no more

intercourse. B—— laughed at N—— and his friend, but remarked the Major

was an honest man, for most people would have said as much when he was

absent, without the courage to declare such sentiments to his face.

Hare, St. John, and others, at Debrett’s.

_31st._—P—— and I had a dispute concerning Shakspeare. He asserted,

quoting Gray and Warton as his supporters, that the thing in which

Shakspeare excels all other writers, and in that only, is sudden bursts

of passion. I allowed he did excel other writers in this, as in almost

every other part of composition, but that he excelled them most in the

full flow of passion. I doubt I was abrupt and dogmatical, for he

appears to be a good-natured man; yet I could see he went away

displeased.

NOVEMBER _1st._—Met Weld and H—— at Debrett’s. Pitt met H—— on

horseback, the day on which it was determined to strike Fox’s name out

of the list of privy-counsellors, and made such strange faces at him,

that H—— went to Brookes’s and reported him mad; on which a person

present said, “that accounts for a strange speech, as I thought, of

Grenville, who affirmed, that while Pitt was in his present temper, he

would not see him, but in the presence of a third person.” The —— said

to be of the Orange party, and inimical to Cornwallis. Weld affirms,

that since London was a city, it never had such immense exports as at

this moment.

_2nd._—Wrote yesterday an apology to P——, for my warmth in dispute; and

received a very friendly and proper answer to-day.

_4th._—Music at Mr Mackenzie’s. Haydn’s symphony quintetto and Mozart:

both men of uncommon genius, but the latter impatient after novelty and

superior excellence, often forgets the flow of passion in laboriously

hunting after new thoughts which, when thus introduced, have the same

effect in music, as the _concetti_ of the Italians have in poetry; and

for these Mozart is frequently extolled as superior to Haydn.

_6th._—Went and settled with Mr Robinson, that is, I made over to him

the copies and copyright of “School for Arrogance,” “Deserted Daughter,”

“Man of Ten Thousand,” “Knave or Not,” “Hugh Trevor,” and “Anna St.

Ives,” in consideration of an acquittal of sums due to him, to the

amount of 340_l._, and a conditional promissory note on his part to pay

me 150_l._ more, when the copies and copy-right shall have realized to

him the sum of 504_l._ Procured a copy of the “School for Ingratitude,”

advertised by Bell gratis, that is, at the author’s expense; he being

angry, or rather, enraged at the plagiarism which he (falsely and

ridiculously) accuses Messrs. Sheridan and Richardson of committing, by

communicating his manuscript to Mr Reynolds to aid him in writing the

comedy of “Cheap Living.”

_7th._—Called on Carlisle. Conversed on the necessity of cultivating

youthful sports and habits in mature and advanced age. Bought books at

King’s. Met Harris, the manager, and soon after, Tierney, M.P.; both

congratulated me on my recovery.

_8th._—Read Walpole’s Painters.—Looked over and considered the scenes of

my new comedy, of which I have sketched about six. Papers at Debrett’s;

picture sale in Cloak-Lane. A walk altogether of about seven miles.

Copies and rubbish at the sale. Sent Robinson an advertisement of my

works, with an order to Symonds to deliver the Narrative, and Windham’s

letter.

_11th._—Called on, and conversed with Geiseveiller concerning his new

enterprise. Saw a proof of Duncan’s Victory, by Fittler, which I think

but indifferent. Went to, and conversed with, Aickin on the subject of

the Exiles. Kelly very desirous of having something of mine to set.

Aickin informed me that Tobin has written two dramatic pieces.

_12th._—Wrote to T——. Read the papers.

_14th._—Wrote two songs for the “Exiles,” the second of Balaam, and the

first of Harry. Dined on Monday with P——; Platonist Taylor, and D——

present. Taylor, intolerant and abusive to all who do not pretend to

understand and put faith in his Platonic jargon. Had he the power,

according to P——, he would bring every man of us to the stake. From my

own experience, P——’s description is scarcely exaggerated; but though a

bigot, Taylor is an honest one. D——, on the contrary, asked P—— whether

he had any principles? and when P—— expressed his surprise at such a

question, D—— declared he had none. Saw Dr. Towers at Debrett’s; his

democracy still maintains its violence; I should scarcely exceed if I

said its virulence. He asked me if the universal defection had not made

me turn aristocrat. I answered, that I supposed my principles to be

founded in truth, that is, in experience and fact: that I continued to

believe in the perfectibility of man, which the blunders and passions of

ignorance might apparently delay, but could not prevent; and that the

only change of opinion I had undergone was, that political revolutions

are not so well calculated to better man’s condition, as during a

certain period I, with almost all the thinking men in Europe, had been

led to suppose. The Doctor doubted man’s perfectibility; was more

inclined to think him a radical sinner; and said, as I held such

opinions, I was, no doubt, a Necessarian, to which I readily assented. I

do not know what connexion the Doctor found between perfectibility and

necessity; though such connexion does certainly exist. Among other

things I said, the best of us at present understood morality very

imperfectly: his sanctity took offence at the assertion, and he replied,

that some of us (meaning, no doubt, himself, and, perhaps, others who

hold his tenets) understood it in full perfection, at which I could only

smile and dissent.

_15th._—Saw pictures on show at Christie’s, a wretched collection. Met

H—— in the room to-day, and M—— yesterday; though both excel as

engravers, their remarks shewed they had but little judgment of

pictures; a circumstance I have had frequent occasion to observe in

engravers, and indeed in painters, though not perhaps so generally. ’Tis

seldom that a tolerable painter is not a good judge of the mechanical

defects or excellences of a picture. Read at Debrett’s, in the papers,

the manly behaviour of Tone, tried at Dublin, and cast for high-treason.

Johnson the bookseller sent to the King’s Bench Prison for selling

Wakefield’s pamphlet.

_16th._—Read the first act and part of the second of the Indian Exiles,

to Bannister; and am convinced, by the effect it produced upon him, that

it is much too dull for representation. I doubt how far it is worth the

trouble of alteration. Met Sir F—— B——, lately come to town, at

Debrett’s. He was very kind. Went to the picture-sale at Christie’s. The

stable-yards, asses, and pigs of Morland, as usual, fetched a good

price.

_17th._—M——l called, and, speaking on that subject, expressed his sorrow

and surprise that W—— should be acquainted with M——, whom M——l, like

most other people, considers as a very odd character. I mentioned what I

conceived to be artifice in the conduct of W—— as a public preacher.

M——l defended him against the charge, and gave me the following

information. The famous Dr. Franklin, the present Sir J—— B——, Dr.

Solander, Bentley, the partner of Wedgwood, and perhaps some few others,

were desirous of putting a plan, conceived by Franklin, into practice;

which was, to have a kind of chapel, or meeting-house, where all matters

of faith should be omitted, and pure morality taught. W——, at that time

a dissenting teacher from Wales, was fixed on as the preacher at this

new chapel, but at this period, Franklin was obliged to conceal himself

from Government on American affairs, and remained some days shut up in

the house of W——, who at that time was a teacher of youth. The scheme,

however, did not drop. A small chapel in Margaret-Street,

Cavendish-Square, was hired to these moralists at one part of the

Sunday, and to Methodists on the other. B—— and Solander acted with

great shyness, if not hypocrisy, and instead of countenancing W——, and

promoting the plan, they now and then peeped into the chapel, and got

away as fast as they decently could. Bentley and M——, the Member for

T——, were more open in their conduct, but Bentley and W—— disagreed,

because Bentley urged him to insist on the immortality of the soul, and

W—— replied he could and would teach no other doctrines than such as

agreed with the original plan. M——l attributed the failure of the plan

to this defection of B——, Solander, and Bentley, but here I think he is

mistaken. I attended this chapel myself, and became acquainted with W——,

whose manner was much too dry and cold, and his reasoning too confused

either to warm the passions, or sufficiently interest the understanding.

He afterwards saw me at the Sunday evening society, where discussion and

the reading of philosophical papers were the business of the meetings;

at these I read some papers, and my manner was so far animated, as to

induce W—— to propose to me that he and I should resume the plan of the

chapel, and be joint preachers, which I positively declined. Since this

time, we have met and spoke in the streets, but nothing more.

_18th._—Walked to Hampstead and dined with P——. He asked explanation of

various of the corrections I advised and had made with pencil-marks in

his tragedy. I had only gone through the four first acts, and he

requested I would revise the fifth. Speaking of Dr. G—— he said, that in

1792, it was his custom to declaim vehemently at the Stratford

coffee-house, in favour of republicanism; and finding the alarm that was

raised, and the tide turning, he soon after wrote in praise of the King,

of mixed monarchy, and of the peculiar happiness derived from it by the

English. The doctor had been tutor to Lord H——, for which an annuity was

settled on him of a hundred a year. About the time of his turning

royalist, Dr. —— died, and the place of ——, becoming vacant, G—— went to

Lord H——, who was intimate with Dundas; and proposed, if his lordship

would procure him this place, he would resign the annuity. The proposal

was accepted, the place procured, and the doctor’s loyalty and royalty

confirmed. Speaking of his literary talents, P—— joined with me in

thinking them rather below than above mediocrity. We differed in opinion

concerning the perfectibility of man, against which he quoted the

traditional and written authority of five thousand years, treating the

supposition with great contempt, and some degree of humourous ridicule.

According to him, men grow more corrupt so rapidly, that in his youthful

dealings with booksellers, &c., he met with nothing but open fairness,

and at present he is obliged to be continually on his guard against

cheating and chicanery. I could only answer, that for my own part, I

found no such general depravity to combat; and that granting it were so,

this was a narrow ground, belonging to temporary and local incident, by

which the great question could not be decided.

_20th._—Called on Sir Francis Burdett, who had just been reading in the

newspaper the King’s intended speech to-day, (which for some sessions

past has been published the morning before it is spoken) and eagerly

asked my opinion what he, as an honest member of Parliament, ought to

say, thinking it highly objectionable. I read it over, and pointed out

parts which I consider, some as vicious in principle, others false in

fact. He repeated the summary or skeleton of what he intended to say,

part of which was sound sense, and part a repetition of questions a

thousand times ineffectually asked. During the day, sketched the

beginning scene of Hobson and Dobson.

_21st._—Worked at my comedy. Fairfax and Curtail, Headlong and the

tradesmen, &c. Several politicians at Debrett’s, canvassing the King’s

speech, &c.

_22nd._—Met a political parson at Debrett’s, whose first recollection

was where he was to dine. Said that Brown, the Egyptian traveller,

affirmed Buonaparte is safe in Egypt, and that Egypt was alone the grand

object of the expedition. Received a friendly letter from Dr. Parry.

_23rd._—Sketched in part the scenes of Melford and Caroline, Caroline

and Fairfax, and Caroline and the wife of Norman. Think of rejecting the

idea of twin-sisters. A wicked recruiting hand-bill of Ireland,

published in to-day’s Chronicle. Spoke of it to General Hastings and

others. It excited universal abhorrence.

_24th._—Walked to S——’s, Paternoster-row, for the account between us,

which he sent in the evening, wishing me to deduct seventy-six of the

Narrative, and twelve of the Letter to Windham, which he pretends to

have been lost by the binder, and this since the last settling, during

which period the account states only three sold. Saw two or three good

pictures at Nodin’s, Leadenhall-street. Met Osmond, whom I had not seen

for some years. He remarked, I was much altered and broken. He was the

same to me. Time effects these changes, especially, as in my case, with

the addition of illness, in despite of the little wisdom we at present

possess. Conversed with Ward, the pugilist; a man who has been

remarkable for uncommon agility, as well as strength and courage; his

language illiterate, his countenance and manner vulgar, yet to a certain

degree pleasing, and his intellect remarkably quick. He was once so

famous at fives, that he beat every opponent, with right, left, or back

hand, by his extreme activity. He is now among the best players at

billiards. The method practised by pugilists, to bring themselves into

condition, as they term it, is air and exercise, regular hours, not more

than a pint of wine a-day, lean meat, especially beef, and fowls, with

few vegetables. This regimen may be instructive to persons wishing to

recover activity and strength. Met Jew K——, who from his conversation

and physiognomy, does not appear to grow more wise and placable, as he

grows older. Again invited me to renew my visits, which I do not intend,

and spoke of the frequency of those of G——, as I suspect, with

exaggeration. Soon afterwards, I was in some danger of being run over by

B—— D——, his son-in-law, driving a kept woman furiously in a curricle.

The coincidence of these rencontres was whimsical.

_25th._—Called on Stoddart, not at home. Received a letter from him

complaining of marked disrespect from me. Answered by truly denying any

such intentional behaviour. Godwin, Carlisle, and the two Tobins to

dinner, Stoddart came in the evening. Carlisle spoke of a woman who had

been five-and-twenty years in bed, from a cancerous disease, and who is

still living.

_26th._—Saw J. Robinson, Sir Francis Burdett, and Este, at Debrett’s. It

is said, in a newspaper, that Kotzebue is imprisoned by the Imperial

Government, for his democratic principles. Mr Aspin, who printed

Fenwick’s pamphlet on Coigley, called.

_27th._—T. North, Lord Thanet, &c. at Debrett’s. The ravages of the

yellow fever at Philadelphia and New York, detailed in to-day’s

Chronicle. Courtney says, he lately read in one of Dr. Franklin’s

letters, a passage where the doctor foretold epidemical diseases, if

draining and cleanliness were not more carefully practised.

_28th._—Called to settle with S——, reminded him that the preface I

wrote, and the proofs I read for him, while a prisoner with him in

Newgate, had I charged them, if charged at twelve guineas, would not

have been more than a third of the value of my time, yet I had charged

nothing, nor should, unless he contested a fair account. This induced

him immediately to allow the balance due on the sale of my books. Papers

at Debrett’s. On Thursday the 22nd, Fanny met the Miss Harts, drinking

tea with Miss Banks; they are the daughters of Horne Tooke. Horne Tooke

takes some pleasure in praising his daughters, which he sometimes does

by those equivocatory falsehoods, which are one of his principal

pleasures. Of the eldest, he says, “all the beer brewed in this house is

of that young lady’s brewing.” It would be equally true were he to say,

all the hogs killed in this house are of that young lady’s killing, for

they brew no beer. When a member of the Constitutional Society, I have

frequently heard him utter sentences, the first part of which would have

subjected him to death, by the law, but for the salvo that followed; and

the more violent they were, thus contrasted and equivocatory, the

greater was his delight.

_30th._—P—— to dinner. Manuscript letters of James I., Prince Henry, &c.

in the Museum. P—— had been reading them, says the character in which

they are written, is uncommonly beautiful; and that many of them

addressed to Prince Henry, were from projectors and improvers with which

that time abounded. Henry delighted in patronizing and encouraging them.

P—— of opinion that the high character given of Henry, was well

deserved.

DECEMBER _5th._—Saw Cumberland’s Word for Nature first time, was much

pleased. He too often unravels his whole fable, which is slight enough,

in the first or second acts. In this, some little suspense is preserved,

and very much of those generous feelings, which interest while they

improve. His usual self-conceit was exceedingly prominent in the

prologue, and sufficiently so in the play. The epilogue was an

incongruous farrago, and took away much of the pleasant feeling the

piece had left. It likewise was egotistical. In the dialogue, he was

guilty of his common fault, a repeated play upon words, little better

than quibbling; and though not held in so much contempt, inferior

perhaps to punning, of which it is but a meagre species. His characters

of the termagant wife, hen-pecked husband, and old officer, are

repetitions of himself: that is, of Ironsides, with Sir Benjamin and

Lady Dove, in the Brothers; except that in the Brothers, if I remember

rightly, the three characters are much better drawn. The chief, and

almost the sole merit of the present comedy centers in the youth

Leonard, to whom all the rest are very properly made subservient

adjuncts. In this comedy, as in the Wheel of Fortune, there are some few

impertinent excrescences. These two pieces, however, have more of

wholeness and simplicity in the fable, than most others in the English

language, of those at least that, because of their insipidity, are not

forgotten. These are the thoughts that occur after having once seen the

comedy. Perhaps when I read and consider it more attentively, I may

correct or alter my opinion. It was received.

_6th._—The papers to-day have been less favourable in the account given

of Cumberland’s comedy, than I supposed they would have been.

_7th._—Coming from Debrett’s, I met S——, who likewise spoke unfavourably

of Cumberland’s comedy.

_8th._—Call from Mrs ——. She was much affected at being told by a

tailor, who works for Mr ——, that my amanuensis had reported my opinion

of Mr —— to be, that he was not a man of principle. I replied, that if I

had ever conveyed a thought to my amanuensis which might be so

interpreted, it was, when dictating this diary, the contents of which I

supposed he would have regarded as sacred, and not have repeated to the

disturbance of any person named in it. I added, that the diary was

intended as a memorandum of my present conduct, opinions, and

intercourse, and to serve in future, as a depository of facts, which

both I and others might wish should be preserved. Many of them must

doubtless be trifling, others may turn to use, and that this end is

desirable in our most insignificant actions. I told her that if by the

word unprincipled, any planned intention to defraud was understood, I

never had expressed such an opinion of Mr ——, because I had no such

opinion; though his conduct was reprehensible, yet I was satisfied his

intentions were honest and kind. The assessed taxes the chief subject of

conversation now at Debrett’s. There was yesterday in the Chronicle,

what was called “a scale,” stating, as is the case, according to the

proposed bill, that a man of five-hundred a year landed property, which

will sell for (say) twenty thousand pounds, during his life, or leave

five-hundred a year to his descendants, is to pay fifty pounds per annum

assessment. That a man of five-hundred a year annuity, which will sell

for only a small part of that sum, and, if not sold, leave nothing to

descendants, must pay the same. And lastly, that a man making

five-hundred a year by his profession, which during life, will sell for

nothing, and leave nothing at his death, must still pay fifty pounds

annual assessment. Went with Fanny and Mrs. and Miss B—— to

Covent-Garden, to a new comedy performed there, written by Reynolds,

called “Laugh when you Can.” A strange mixture it would be to compare

it, as a whole, with Cumberland’s, yet it has sallies of humour, which

Cumberland cannot reach, and will probably have a temporary popularity.

_9th._—Called on C—— who shewed me a plan for a new school of anatomy.

_11th._—Saw P—— at Debrett’s, told him my intention to go abroad.

_12th._—Mr H—— at Debrett’s remarked that Canning’s fine speech in the

House of Commons, was rather a reply to what Canning supposed Tierney

would have said, than to what Tierney did say.

_13th._—At Debrett’s, Weld rallied Tarleton on his approaching marriage,

and military appointment. Spoke with me concerning Sheridan’s opera.

T——r having quarrelled with S——, swore he would never be friends again;

for he never pulled off his hat to him in the street, but it cost him

fifty pounds, and if he trusted himself in the same room, a hundred. S——

still supposed to be concerned in the Haymarket. At Opie’s in the

evening. Northcote present. Northcote animated, as usual. Related a

comic conversation between himself and a framemaker, who had never heard

the name of Northcote, nor noticed it in the prints he had framed,

though he remembered the names of Sir Joshua Reynolds, West, Opie, &c.

After supper, stories of terror were related.

One, of a lady waked from sleep, who suffered her lap-dog to lie at the

foot of her bed, and feeling something move, bid the dog lie still, at

the same time stretching out her arm, to feel him; but instead of a

lap-dog, took hold of a hand. When a voice bid her lie still, make no

noise, but deliver her keys. The lady was a woman of courage, and

immediately complied, only requesting her daughter might not be

disturbed, who was sleeping by her side. She however was mistaken, the

daughter had heard the thieves, had risen, slipped on a night-dress, and

stealing into another room, gave the alarm, by which the thieves were

secured.

Another of a bigotted old lady, who seeing thieves enter her apartment

with lights, at midnight, exclaimed to her maid who lay in the same

room, “Lie still Betty, for now we shall see the salvation of the Lord!”

imagining it was a celestial apparition. The thieves however, were

driven away by the fury of a poor man, maintained out of charity, who

was half an idiot; and who, after the exploit, was made drunk every day,

when he went to Plymouth, with drams given him by people, who bribed him

to tell the story.

A third, of a gentleman, that having put out his candle, going to bed,

read in blazing characters on his curtains, “Confess thy sins, this

night thy soul shall be required of thee.” On which the gentleman fell

on his knees, and, as directed, began to confess his sins aloud: not

from terror, but aware it was a trick, meant to terrify him, by a

waggish young lady; and hearing a little bustle on the stairhead, truly

supposed that she, and others, were there listening. He confessed as the

last and greatest of his sins, that he had seduced the young lady; and,

if that might be pardoned him, he would never again be so heinously

guilty. The joke was understood, and of course, the lady laughed at,

instead of the gentleman.

A fourth, of a cook-maid left alone in a country-house, which was

attacked by several thieves on the night when she was sitting up,

waiting the arrival of the family. The detail of this story ——, who told

it, did not know, except that the fears and courage of the girl being

inflamed, finding them to be thieves, and that they were making their

way, by widening the aperture of the kitchen gutter, she took up a

cleaver, and killed the first man that was creeping forward, then

dragged the body away, imitated his voice, encouraged a second to come

in, killed him, and thus destroyed them all; after which, growing

frantic, she lighted up every room, smeared herself with blood,

brandished her dreadful weapon, and was found marching about the house,

and to and from the dead bodies, by the family, who coming home in the

middle of the night, were amazed at the lights from the windows first,

and much more afterwards, when they beheld the scene within.

I am here reminded of a tragical story told me by the late Mrs. P——,

with the hero of which she was personally acquainted, having, while a

child, seen him daily. One Alexander —— of Aberdeen, had seduced a

pretty girl, who was pregnant by him. This girl, and one or two others,

had risen at two o’clock to wash. While they were at their work, a

whistle was heard, and the girl said “that is Sandy, I will go and speak

to him.” She said this with a kind of wildness and terror in her look,

and was persuaded not to go: but she said she must and would, come of it

what might, as if herself foreboding some ill. She could not be

withheld; but going, said, perhaps she should soon be back. The night

passed away, however, and instead of returning, if I remember rightly,

she was never seen more: though her lover remained for some time in the

place, till suspicion became so loud, that he thought proper to go

abroad: for there was no proof to detain him, as no one could swear to a

whistle, or knew what was become of the girl. After a lapse of years, he

returned rich, but always deeply melancholy, and loving to be alone.

This behaviour revived the memory of past events, and he was universally

shunned, except by children, to whom he was particularly kind, and who

therefore frequently played with him, and partook of the good things he

gave them.

Discoursing at Opie’s on the effects of terror, Northcote related, that

two of his brothers were sitting by the fire, and as one of them slept,

the other, by way of experiment, when he saw him about to wake, sat

motionless, without appearing to breathe, and his eyes fixed on one

object. The brother who had been asleep, watched him as long as his

patience could hold, and then spoke, but received no answer. He spoke

again and again, but still the same fixed, motionless, and as he began

to dread, lifeless figure, sat before him. He was not a timid man, and

the absurd joke ended without any bad consequences. But the picture

which he afterwards gave of his own terror, was a strong one. N. also

told the following story. A gentleman, followed by a servant in livery,

rode into an inn in the West of England, one evening a little before

dusk. He told the landlord that he should be detained by business in

that part of the country for a few days, and wished to know if there

were any amusements going on in the town to fill up the intervals of his

time. The landlord replied, that it was their race and assize week, and

that he would therefore be at no loss to pass away the time. On the

gentleman’s making answer, that this was lucky, for that he was fond of

seeing trials, the other said, that a very interesting trial for a

robbery would come on the next day, on which people’s opinions were much

divided, the evidence being very strong against the prisoner; but he

himself persisting resolutely in declaring that he was in a distant part

of the kingdom at the time the robbery was committed. His guest

manifested considerable curiosity to hear the trial; but as the court

would probably be crowded, expressed some doubt of getting a place. The

landlord told him, that there could be no difficulty in a gentleman of

his appearance getting a place; but that, to prevent any accident, he

would himself go with him, and speak to one of the beadles. Accordingly

they went into court the next morning, and the gentleman was shewn to a

seat on the bench. Presently after, the trial began. While the evidence

was giving against him, the prisoner had remained with his eyes fixed on

the ground, seemingly very much depressed; till being called on for his

defence, he looked up, and seeing the stranger, he suddenly fainted

away. This excited some surprise, and it seemed at first like a trick to

gain time. As soon as he came to himself, on being asked by the judge

the cause of his behaviour, he said, Oh, my lord, I see a person that

can save my life; that gentleman (pointing to the stranger) can prove I

am innocent, might I only have leave to put a few questions to him. The

eyes of the whole court were now turned on the gentleman, who said he

felt himself in a very awkward situation to be so called upon, as [he]

did not remember ever to have seen the man before, but that he would

answer any question that was asked him. Well then, said the man, don’t

you remember landing at Dover at such a time? To this the gentleman

answered, that he had landed at Dover, not long before, but that he

could not tell whether it was on the day he mentioned or not. Well, said

he, but don’t you recollect that a person in a blue jacket and trowsers

carried your trunk to the inn? To this he answered, that of course some

person had carried his trunk for him; but that he did not know what

dress he wore. But, said the prisoner, don’t you remember that the

person, who went with you from the boat, told you a story of his being

in the service, that he thought himself an ill-used man, and that he

shewed you a scar he had on one side of his forehead? During this last

question, the countenance of the stranger underwent a considerable

change, he said he certainly did recollect such a circumstance, and on

the man’s putting his hair aside, and shewing the scar, he became quite

sure that he was the same person. A buzz of satisfaction now ran through

the court, for the day on which, according to the prisoner’s account,

this gentleman had met with him at Dover, was the same on which he was

charged with the robbery in a remote county. The stranger however could

not be certain of the time, but said that he sometimes made memorandums

of dates in his pocket-book, and might possibly have done so on this

occasion. On turning to his pocket-book, he found a memorandum of the

time he landed from Calais, which corresponded with the prisoner’s

assertion. This being the only circumstance necessary to prove the

_alibi_, the prisoner was immediately acquitted, amidst the applause and

congratulations of the whole court.—Within less than a month after this,

the gentleman who came to the Inn, attended by a servant in livery, the

servant who followed him, and the prisoner who had been acquitted, were

all three brought back together to the same gaol, for robbing the mail.

_14th._—The assassination of Buonaparte, the subject at Debrett’s.

_15th._—Met Arthur B——, who disbelieves the assassination of Buonaparte.

It was much questioned at Debrett’s. T—— loud, in asserting it was

impossible that a general officer, surrounded by his staff, should be

massacred. Tarleton already imagines himself and his staff, in P——. B——

remarked to me on the triumphant tone of the ministry, and their

creatures, in announcing this intelligence. It is true enough, but party

spirit never yet had understanding.

_16th._—Walked with Tobin into the Park. Met various persons; among

others, S——, the surgeon, as flighty and whimsical as usual. He walked

with us; dropped us; then came up again; met another acquaintance,

stopped with him, was presently with us again; and after first saying I

was a deep observer of men and manners, asked me of what profession was

the man he met. I had scarcely seen the man’s face, and, cutting

Addison’s joke, desired him to give me the red hot poker out of his

pocket, that I might swallow it as a first proof of my skill. He then

said the man was a dentist. I replied, I was about to guess he was a

Doctor, and should have been tolerably near the mark. Tobin tells me Dr.

Beddoes is again going to lecture at Bristol on health and its

preservation, that he hates physicians, that physicians hate him, and

that he wishes to teach each man to be the guardian of his own health.

Thomas Wedgewood, Tobin says, is so afflicted with bad digestion, that

he is obliged to take several hours’ strong exercise every day. Shooting

and turning are part of his amusements. Metaphysics, the study he most

delighted in. I told Tobin I wished for a school of health, one

principal branch of which should be exercise, and its proper direction,

tending to move the limbs and muscles in all modes, by running,

stooping, &c., and that social games, which should powerfully stimulate,

ought to be practised; bowls, trap-ball, &c., in fine weather.

Billiards, marbles, and whatever would engage the attention, and give

variety of action, should be studied. I mentioned the above as those

that first occurred to the memory. Parkinson, jun., a good mineralogist.

His father was offered twelve thousand pounds, and the title of Baron

for his son, by a German Prince (of Hesse, I believe), for the Leverian

Museum. It is intended to remove this museum into Bond-street, make

scientific arrangements, &c., and exhibit it at half-a-crown, or by

annual tickets. At present it does not quite pay the interest of the

money. Parkinson, sen., a lawyer, acting chiefly as steward to various

persons. Much talk with Tobin, concerning some manuscript pieces written

by his brother, and not a little praised by him. Stoddart and Clementi

to dinner. Read a scene from Lillo’s “Fatal Curiosity” to them. Agnes

and Wilmot concerting the murder. Critical remarks by S—— on the

language. Called on N——, who mentioned an attack made on him by T——,

editor of a magazine, meant to rival his Journal. The attack ignorant

and artful. I advised either a perfectly good-tempered reply, or

silence.

_17th._—Walked to Westminster, to inquire concerning the picture of

Angelica and Medora, but could not find Mr Bates. Unexpectedly met

Colonel Barry at Debrett’s, just come to town. Lord Wycombe, speaking of

Lord Cornwallis, says, “no man is more open in discussing any question,

political, or appertaining to government, except such as relate

immediately to his own office, and then, no man more close.” G—— related

of one B——, a gambler and famous billiard-player, that he was now in

total discredit, after having lived in a very high style; to support

which, he had been guilty of many notorious gambling frauds. He and one

Captain —— met one evening at billiards, and played a long rubber for

50_l._, which B—— easily won. The Captain said he had no more money

then, but would come the next night, and play him for his own sum, for

he was still convinced he was the better player. The appointment was

made, and all the gamblers and sporting people, who heard of it, flocked

to the place. Bets to a large amount were laid every game; the Captain

won, and emptied most of the spectators’ pockets: but the match was not

finished, for he and B—— quarrelled, abused each other in very gross

language, pretended to strike at each other with their cues, but avoided

the blows by dodging, and separated in an apparently extreme heat. A

person, however, who had been betting, happening to pass toward

Berkeley-square, saw B—— and the Captain, under the wall of Lansdown

House, dividing the banknotes and money of which they had robbed the

bettors. B—— was dealer to one ——, who kept a faro table; and three

nights successively, a man came in towards the close of the play, staked

a large sum on the card, and won it, to the total amount of two thousand

pounds. He made a fourth attempt, but was refused by the tablekeeper.

B—— was suspected, and discharged; and was soon after seen dining at the

tavern on Richmond-Hill, with the man who had won the two thousand

pounds. Gamblers speak with most acrimonious rancour against those of

their own set who betray them. They delight in conspiring against all

the world besides: but bestow the epithets, thief, robber, rascal, &c.

most plentifully when betrayed by one of themselves.

_18th._—Conversed with E—— at Debrett’s concerning L——, who was left

joint patentee of Drury-Lane theatre, with landed property, houses, &c.

of twelve hundred a year, or more. Married a green-woman’s daughter

because she was tall; himself above six feet: and, in a very short time,

was little better than a beggar; yet never made any figure, even as a

spendthrift. He had last night a benefit at the little theatre in the

Haymarket, a poor house.

_19th._—Breton at Debrett’s, spoke of the tricks of Smithfield salesmen.

He sent thirty head of cattle to market, came himself, unknown to the

salesman, and watched his proceedings; a number, twelve I think, of bad

cows were added to his thirty fat bullocks; the whole sold together, and

he paid the average price; but made the salesman refund. Farmers are not

allowed to sell for themselves, they must employ salesmen.

_20th._—Mr H—— observed, that the ship, Orient, had been the evil genius

of the squadron of Brueys. It had prevented the going into the inner

harbour. It would not suffer the squadron to anchor in very shallow

water, and by blowing up in the battle did every kind of mischief.

_21st._—Conversed with Erskine, Sir Francis Burdett, R. Adair, Courtney,

Este, and Weld. Erskine of opinion it was wrong to give up agitating the

question of reform without doors, i.e. out of the House of Commons. He

had before remarked that the people had lost all spirit, which I denied,

and, on this occasion, reminded him that the leaders of the people had

abandoned them in a cowardly manner, and then had called the people

cowards. Sir Francis Burdett is inquiring into the number of persons

imprisoned on suspicion, and their treatment, meaning to state the

particulars to Parliament. Erskine, as a lawyer, has great talents,

quick conceptions, acute feelings, and uncommon power over juries; but

as a man of grand plans, and inflexible principles, he is far from

ranking in the first class. I this day completed my 53rd year.

_23d._—Called on Sir William Beechey, who has lately given a delicacy of

tint and reflected lights to the shaded side of his faces, which I think

admirable; and, as far as my knowledge goes, peculiar to himself. He

related the following anecdote of Serres, the ship painter. Serres took

a picture or pictures of shipping, from England to the King of France,

painted to commemorate some naval exploit of the French, and invited

connoisseurs and artists to see his performance. Among the rest was the

famous Vernet. Serres waited some time after Vernet had looked at the

picture, till he became impatient to hear his opinion, hoping for

praise, and fearing lest it should not be bestowed. “How do you like my

picture,” said he, “Mr Vernet?” “Upon my word, Sir,” replied Vernet,

“you paint ropes exceedingly well.” Nothing could be more satirical, or

better mark the genius of the two men, than this reply. Vernet, like a

man of genius, painted nature at large, and suggested her minutiae, but

never gave them in detail. Serres was incapable of any thing but detail,

in which he was uncommonly accurate. Serres thought he revenged himself

on Vernet, by damning him for a fool, that had never known how to paint

a ship, which, in his sense, was true enough. He could not paint every

shroud, rope, and tackle, &c. all which Serres had laboriously studied.

_24th._—Mr—— M.P. related an incredible anecdote of the Prince of

Sicily; the present prince royal, if I do not mistake: that, being

betrothed to an archduchess of Austria, and, as they could not meet,

Germany, &c. being overrun by the French, being married by proxy, eight

months after the marriage, he ordered his attendants to provide

child-bed linen; supposing she must be brought to bed in a month, though

he had never seen her. I said it was incredible, and he answered it was

seriously asserted as a fact.

_25th._—Mr C—— surprised me much by a very liberal and friendly offer of

the loan of two or three hundred pounds; thinking it might be want of

money that induced me to sell my effects and go abroad. I answered, one

motive was, that of being already in debt to persons who never reminded

me of it, which I could endure no longer, much less to incur fresh

obligations of the same kind; but that his offer was a strong testimony

of the goodness of his own heart. That I was likewise desirous of

familiarizing myself and my daughter, with the true idiom of foreign

languages, and the manners of the people; also of reducing my expenses,

and of absenting myself till certain prejudices in the public mind,

respecting me, should subside.

_26th._—Sent the three first acts of the “Lawyer” to Mr Harris. Walked

with B——r to see P——, whose hands are excessively burned by

extinguishing fire, which had caught his wife’s clothes, and must

certainly have burned her to death. His resolution was considerable.

When the wife of B——r was sitting for her picture, B—— related the

following anecdote. At the time of the last procession, he was painting

K. G. who asked if he intended to see the sight, B—— answered in the

affirmative. “It will be very fine, B——, very fine.” The day after, when

sitting, he again said, “Well, B——, did you see the procession, B——?”

The painter answered he had. “How did you like it, B——? How did you like

it?” “Exceedingly.” “Had you a good sight, B——?” “A very good one. I saw

it from a one pair of stairs, on the top of Ludgate Hill.” “That must

have been very fine, very fine indeed, B——. I wish I had been in your

place. I should like to have seen it myself. But I could see nothing but

the back of the coachman.” Went to “the Jew and the Doctor” in the

evening, which is a tolerably good farce.

_27th._—Mr —— at Debrett’s, wished the Orange men of Ireland might raise

another rebellion, and be all cut off and totally destroyed. Such is the

miserably vicious state of the minds of the two opposite parties.

Nothing will satisfy either, but the extirpation and blood of their

opponents. Dined with Mr F——. A Mrs. Remorande came to consult him on

law business. Her husband, an Irish officer, in the French service, was

guillotined by Robespierre; and she, finding means to secrete five

hundred pounds, remitted the money to England. The person afterwards

refused payment. She employed an attorney, and was told by another, one

M——, the first intended to cheat her; and prevailed on her to let him

continue the suit. She complied, and he soon obtained the money; but

instead of receiving it, as she expected, an information was laid

against her, and she was taken on suspicion before the Duke of Portland.

Her story being heard, the villainous artifice of M—— was seen through,

and she was released. He used fresh endeavours, and she was taken before

the Westminster justices; but again set free. M—— had given

instructions, in his own hand-writing, to his servant, how to proceed in

accusing her. These were obtained: he was prosecuted, and promised, if

they would stop proceedings, the money should be repaid. Her counsel

incautiously took his word; and as it was a criminal prosecution, when

it was dropped, he was no longer in danger, and mocked their credulity.

He was arrested, however, for the debt, and put in the Fleet prison,

where he now lies. This woman’s story in France was still more

remarkable. The outlines of it were these. The papers announcing her

husband’s death had arrived, and the tragedy was generally known to the

inhabitants of St. Omer’s, but not to her. The people around her were

afraid to tell her of it. She is a woman of quick faculties, observed

something remarkably unusual, gloomy, and strange in their countenances,

and could not conceive the reason. One of them advised her to go to the

play, because she was in need of amusement. This ridiculous advice she

innocently followed; and her acquaintance at the play were so astonished

at the indecency of such conduct, that she came away uncommonly agitated

by behaviour she thought so affronting. Still she found the same

mournful faces, and at last conjured some of them in God’s name, to tell

her what was the matter. One advised her, if she had any property, to

secure it, for she was in danger. This alarmed her suspicions concerning

the true cause, and they were confirmed by another, who answered her

next question, by replying, “_il est parti_, he is gone.” The famous

tyrant, Le Bon, soon afterward came to Saint Omer’s. Her person was

seized; her property confiscated; her two children were torn from her;

and she was ordered to prison. In the delirium of her distress, she

braved this demon, called him _Scelerat_, and said, though he aimed at

her life, she should live to see him cut off for his crimes. She was

removed, however, to Amiens, among persons who were soon to be

sacrificed, and her hair was shorn for that purpose. But at this period,

Robespierre himself fell; she escaped; and, by an odd coincidence of

circumstances, when Le Bon was on his trial, she happened to come to the

town where he was tried, went to the court to see the man who had done

her so much mischief, and entered it (he being on his defence) at the

moment he was describing the fury with which she had resisted what he

called the execution of the law. She instantly mounted on a seat; shewed

herself to the court; and called, in the most impressive manner, to be

heard. The judge was proceeding to commit her for disturbing the

proceedings, till she announced her name, and the court then listened to

her with the utmost attention. The impression she made was so great,

that Le Bon sunk dejected, and offered no further defence to that

charge. She supposes him to have been a man as extraordinary for his

abilities, as for his cruelty and rapaciousness. Mr Martinet, an

emigrant, came to tea. In one respect, his was a similar story. He had

taught French, with great reputation, in the university of Cambridge,

where he had never agitated or concerned himself with political

questions, yet an information being laid against him, he was ordered out

of the kingdom. In consequence of letters written by noblemen, divines,

and respectable men of all parties, this order was revoked; but he is

not permitted to teach in Cambridge, consequently he has lost an income,

which he had established by his abilities, of between one and two

hundred a year.

_28th._—Met Sir L—— C—— at Debrett’s, and spoke to him to recommend

N——’s academy. Was pleased with Pulteney’s speech against the Income

bill. Mr G. Dyer drank tea with us, and told me of poems well written by

Lord Holland. Imitations of Juvenal, one of them called Secession, in

praise of his uncle, Charles Fox. B—— asserted two people had perished

by the frost in the prison, nick-named the Bastille. Sir L—— C—— agreed

with me in disapproving Tierney’s motion against the Editor of the

Times.

_29th._—Letter from Harris refusing to accept bills for me. Wrote in

answer. Informed Courtney of B——’s story; he had heard it of one person

starved, but with aggravating circumstances that render it incredible.

_30th._—Met Tierney coming from the park, and Tobin, jun.

_31st._—Letter from Harris. Spoke to Lord Holland, requesting him to

promote Mr N——’s plan for an intended academy, which he promised to do.

1799.

JANUARY _1st._—Lord Wycombe at Debrett’s. Conversed with him yesterday

on the Orleans gallery; and with Courtney on the subject of solitary

confinement. Northcote present. Conversation chiefly on the

perfectibility of man, Shakspeare, and painting.

_2nd._—Mr Harris called, and proposes to put the comedy in rehearsal

nearly as soon as it is finished. Contended with Lord H—— at Debrett’s,

against precedents, and in favour of the patriotism of the people; which

points he did not obstinately maintain. Spoke with P—— on the subject of

the “Lawyer.” Every body speaks ill of Boaden’s play, Aurelio and

Miranda, first performed on Saturday, the 29th ult. at Drury Lane

Theatre. Dined with Tobin in Barnard’s Inn, No. 7, his brother, Mr W——,

and E——. The discourse on Christianity, causation, &c. and politics. T——

one of those who defend the present tyranny of the French Government;

from the enthusiasm with which they admired the late struggles of the

nation for freedom.

_3rd._—Mr C—— brought me a hundred pounds as a loan. Seems very desirous

I should not quit the kingdom. Accepted a draft for ninety pounds, at

two months, drawn by Birch, for a Teniers and other pictures. Had a

dispute with Weld concerning the frost of 1789 and that of 1795. I was

wrong. Weld jocularly accused me of the trouble I took to have myself

hanged; alluding to my surrendering myself when indicted for

high-treason, though my prosecutors seemed unwilling to take me into

custody.

_4th._—Mr Martinet, a French emigrant, called for the first time, the

gentleman mentioned on the 27th ult. Billiards with a stranger. One G——

was at play in the morning, with a youth of the name of Frazer, and

played barefacedly ill, to encourage him, meaning no doubt to lead him

on and plunder him.

_5th._—E—— at Debrett’s. He used to be stiff and distant with me, he now

seems to make it a point of being familiar. A great, and not an ill

talker, little depth of thought, but much florid description. Sometimes

with a happy poetic word. Weld, in conversation with me, gave a high

character of Lord H——, in which, I think, there was little, if any

exaggeration. His speech to the Lords against the suspension of the

Habeas Corpus, as reported by the newspapers, has great and solid merit.

His delivery, I fear, is not very impressive. I likewise fear he has not

sufficient vehemence of feeling to become a man of genius. G—— has again

been at play with young Frazer, and to-day thought proper to win a few

games. The match is to be continued on Monday.

_6th._—After writing the last, and chief scene in my comedy, yesterday

and this morning, part of it from notes, but chiefly the labour of the

two days, I walked with Fanny, and Louisa Mercier, into the park, where,

though it was a quick thaw, numbers were skaiting; and had the day been

clear, the morning picture would have been amusing. Met General M——, had

a salute; a nod from Lord R. S—— on horseback.

_7th._—Again transcribed, with additions and corrections, the last

scene. Lord Holland, General Maitland, Mr Weld, Mr Hare, the Duke of

Bedford, &c. at Debrett’s. The hardships of the income bill discussed.

_8th._—Wrote the first scene of the fifth act, the substance of which I

had in my memory; and had the whole act transcribed, and the comedy sent

to Mr Harris. Saw P—— at Debrett’s, and spoke to him of my intended

Epilogue.

_9th._—Harris called about three o’clock, much satisfied with the

comedy, but advising some curtailments and slight alterations.

_10th._—Wrote to Harris concerning the proposed alterations.

_11th._—Made alterations in the Tradesman-scene, and returned the comedy

to Harris, that Lewis might read Headlong before I curtail the

Bailiff-scene in the third act. [This comedy came out at Drury Lane

(much altered) in 1803, ran eleven nights, ill performed, and entitled,

“Hear both Sides.” June, 1808.]

_12th._—Went with Fanny and Louisa to Holman’s new comedy, first time,

“The Votary of Wealth,” a piece in which there is much to blame, and but

little to commend. Heard Mrs. Atkins in the first act of Rosina. M. Le

F—— and his wife in the same box; he pretended to regret we each had

visited when the other was not at home, and to wish a more intimate

acquaintance, but I doubt his sincerity. He is a man of the world, and

his world has not been of the purest kind.

_13th._—Called on P——, who read me quotations made by Belsham from

Davenant, something like miraculously picturing the political state and

government of the kingdom, though written, I believe, at the beginning

of this century. Left the manuscript of “the Lawyer” with him to read.

Called on M. Martinet—not at home, and on Mr Nicholson. Mr Godwin

brought my manuscript with further remarks, of the same temper and

complexion as his first: on which subject, as nearly as I can recollect,

we had the following conversation.—H. “The first part of your criticism,

which I have read, has, I own, both pained and surprised me. When you

brought your tragedy to me, you gave a minute detail of the rules I was

to observe in criticising your work, that you might properly benefit by

my remarks, which rules you have not yourself in the least attended to.

One of the first of them was, not to find fault in such an absolute and

wholesale style, as might at once kill your ardour, and make you, if not

disgusted with your work, yet so doubtful, as at once to damp all

farther progress. Yet, having read mine, you come with a sledge hammer

of criticism, describe it as absolutely contemptible, tell me it must be

damned, or, if it should escape, that it cannot survive five nights,

that the characters and plot are but transcripts of myself, and that

every body will say it is the garrulity of an old man. I am well aware

that the judgment of an author, on a work of his own, which he has

lately finished, is extremely fallible; but a judgment he has, and must

have, and I am firmly persuaded that this comedy (meaning ‘the Lawyer’)

contains some of the strongest writing I have ever produced, and I stake

my judgment, as far as the judgment of an author, under the

circumstances I have described, can be staked, that instead of being

damned, it will meet with no inconsiderable applause.”—G. “I thought it

my duty to speak my thoughts plainly. The opinion I have delivered, I

delivered coolly, after due reflection, and I was desirous you should

understand perfectly what my feelings were. My language was unqualified,

but there is this distinction between my critique and yours, of which I

complained. I have used no triumphing banter, which you did.”—H. “Not in

that part of my remarks which was general; nor ever, but when I supposed

it would make you more clearly perceive the defect which I wished you to

amend, than any other method I could take.”—G. “There is another

difference between us. Though I certainly give myself credit for

intellectual powers, yet I have a failing which I have never been able

to overcome. I am so cowed and cast down by rude and unqualified

assault, that for a time I am unable to recover. You, on the contrary, I

consider as a man of iron.”—H. “It is true, I have been so hardened in

sufferance, by the difficulties I have had to overcome, that when such

attacks are made upon me, I think I may say, however egotistical it may

sound, I can, in the language of Shakspeare, shake them from me ‘as the

lion shakes the dewdrops from his mane.’ Yet if you imagine that

sensibility is destroyed in me, the mistake is strange and

unaccountable, considering how well you know me. On the present

occasion, I lay wakeful and ruminating full three hours on the injustice

and wrong nature of your remarks. At length I recollected the folly of

such uneasiness, created chiefly by the pain it gave me to think you

could act so improperly, and I then recounted to myself your great

virtues, and how very trifling such blemishes are, when placed in

comparison with them. This, as it ought, acted like a charm, and almost

immediately calmed my perturbation. But it is right I should inform you,

I had this perturbation; and that though I can overcome feeling, it is

still as quick and vigorous as ever.” We then walked, and conversed on

other subjects till dinner-time.

_14th._—Enquired of King, auctioneer, his terms of selling books: they

are ten per cent. not including ten-pence in the pound King’s taxes, but

all other expenses, except that of conveying them to the auction-room.

Lord Wycombe at Debrett’s; read to me the strange account inserted in

the Times of to-day, of Lord Camelford’s attempt to go over to France;

and commented on the pretended purity of ministers, who have lately

conferred the command of a ship (a frigate as I recollect) on this

madman. L—— related to me a whimsical story of a physician, who one

night hearing lamentable groans and cries, went to search whence they

proceeded, found a man and woman, drunk, thrown out of an overturned

cart, hastened to a public-house to get aid, and in his care had them

put to bed together, but returning the next morning, found the man in a

rage at having slept with such a companion; and the woman making an

intolerable uproar, weeping, and reproaching, asserting that her

character was ruined, and that he must and should marry her; which

accordingly the good-natured fool was persuaded to do. Called on

Christie, his terms for pictures are seven and a half per cent., all

expenses whatever included.

_15th._—Met Mr P—— at Phillips’s auction-rooms. Thinks highly of “the

Lawyer.” Suggested an alteration that should omit the Bailiff in the

fourth act. Will consider it. Conversed with Lord Wycombe at Debrett’s.

_16th._—Mr Harris called, advised alterations in “the Lawyer,” which I

expect will be essential. His ideas, though crude, have awakened

reflection. He promised to put no other comedy in rehearsal, till he had

my answer within a fortnight.

_17th._—Made notes for altering the character of Sir Ralph. Lord

Wycombe, Marquis of Townsend, Rans, &c., at Debrett’s. Read the three

last acts of “the Lawyer” to Louisa and Fanny; their feelings were

strong, yet from their variations I could discover some defects. Reading

such manuscripts is a good experiment.

_18th._—Account in to-day’s Morning Chronicle of the Norwegian that died

at 160, enjoying his faculties to the last. His name, I think,

Surrington. Girton, a landscape designer, looked at my pictures, and

praised them highly. After the Wilsons, his attention was most deeply

attracted by the landscape by Artois.

_19th._—Barry, the painter, R.A. spent the evening with us. His

conversation as usual rapturous in praise of the arts. Speaks, and, I

believe, thinks highly of Fanny’s attempts at drawing; not of her

knowledge or execution, but of her feeling for character and beauty. Saw

Mr Wheeler going to Fulham, who was astonished and rejoiced, having

supposed me dead. Asked me to dine with him in the country.

_20th._—Received a begging letter from a person, signing himself J. K——,

the chief features of which are ignorance and servility. I thought it my

duty to refuse his request. I learn —— intends to read lectures on law;

in which political government is to be introduced, and the established

systems of this country highly praised. Expressed the pain I felt, that

a man of such superior powers should act so false a part, and so

contrary to his convictions, of which I must, in all human probability,

be able to form a tolerably accurate opinion, from the many

conversations I have had with him. His judgment was (and, doubtless,

still is, for his faculties are in their full vigour) so clear, his

perceptions so penetrating, and his opinions so decided, that I can

conceive no possibility of their being so totally changed. Read Dryden’s

Translation, Ode 29., B. 1., of Horace; part of Macflecnoe, and his

verses on young statesmen, 1680; aloud.

_21st._—Report at Debrett’s, that Paul Benfield is ruined. Was told he

went out to India a carpenter, got employment as a builder, learned the

art of making money breed, and came home worth 300,000_l._

_22nd._—The union of Ireland is now the whole subject of political

discourse. Ministry seems determined, and their opponents hope, though

faintly, it may put an end to their power.

_23rd._—Met Sir F. B—— in Bond-street, who reminded me of my promise;

then H——, who would not see me, (’tis the fashion of these folks to

those they think their inferiors,) and afterwards C. Grey, M.P., who was

less aristocratic, and gave me a nod. Lord S——’s Address in the

Chronicle and Post. T—— calls him mad. I expressed a different opinion

to Weld, who agreed, and said there was method in his madness.

_24th._—Met General H—— again. He spoke to me, for it was not in

Bond-street, and his pride had no alarms. Such pride is pitiable, and

excites to resentment, but to resent would be equally weak.

_25th._—At Debrett’s. General H—— described the black chief of St.

Domingo, Toussaint, after General Maitland. He is a little man, about

fifty, toothless, lively of temper, and ambitious.

_26th._—Call from Watts; another from Tobin, who had lent me the

Sorcerer, translated from Veil Weber. He and his brother praised it as

the first production in the world. I told him, I think the author a man

of genius, but that his book is written in a taste no less disgusting

than immoral, besides being deficient in several of the essential parts

of composition, as, a choice of subject, conduct of the fable,

probability, &c. Attwood came and told me the performers gave high

applause at the reading of “the Old Clothesman.” Met Knight, who is to

play Florid, and who wanted to tell me it as a secret, which I refused

to hear. Dibdin, comedian, and author of the Jew and the Doctor, was

with him. I like him, because he spoke so earnestly in praise of the

virtuous principles of his brother. They are illegitimate sons of

Dibdin, the musical composer, whose conduct towards them is highly

reprehensible. The young man said he had seen his father so seldom,

that, having weak eyes, he should not know him if he met him in the

street. I invited him to my house. The news at Debrett’s was the failure

in the Irish Parliament, of the attempt at a union; and not only there,

but in the streets, it was the subject of general conversation. All whom

I heard mention it, rejoiced. Naples, they say, is in the possession of

the French. The king, having fled with eight thousand troops to Sicily,

after twenty thousand others had laid down their arms to eight thousand

French. The substance of this I suppose to be true.

_28th._—Finished the alterations in my comedy. Debrett’s full. The

conduct of the Irish parliament relating to the union, the whole subject

of political conversation. Read a criticism in _La Decade

Philosophique_, No. 8. An. 7,—on a French translation of Hugh Trevor,

containing great praise, and some pointed blame. The chief articles of

the latter are,—that the plan proposed is incomplete [true], that some

of the conversations are too long [true], that my satire on professions

is unfounded [false], that I have not put my morality sufficiently in

action [false again, the law part excepted], that probability is not

quite enough regarded [perhaps not], and that, to make Trevor so

suddenly a wealthy man is entirely in the novel style [true; blamable].

The following are the concluding remarks: “Malgré ces défauts qu’on peut

reprocher, comme nous l’avons vu, à beaucoup de romans, mêmes

très-estimés, celui-ci mérite assurément d’être distingué par la

justesse des observations, la vérité des tableaux et des caractères, le

naturel du dialogue, la peinture exacte des mœurs et des ridicules. En

un mot, c’est l’ouvrage d’un penseur, d’un homme de talent, d’un

observateur habile et exercisé, d’un ami des mœurs, et de la vertu;

disons encore d’un écrivain patriote, hardi défenseur des droits sacrés

du peuple, et de telles productions sont toujours faites pour être bien

accueillies.”

_29th._—Called on Opie; saw a portrait, whole length, of a lady,

excellent. News of a second defeat of government in Ireland, 109 to 104

against the union. Pitt, in answer to Sheridan, on the debate here on

that subject, said, Sheridan seemed determined to have the last word; to

which Sheridan replied, he was satisfied with having the last argument.

When Dundas brought the sealed bag, containing the proofs which are to

be examined to shew the necessity of a union; Sheridan, seeing there was

not much in it, jocularly said to Dundas, “Confess the truth, is there

any thing in that bag, except the report the committee are to bring up?”

H——, M.P. related these as extraordinary witticisms. The one was a ready

reply; the other, a sarcastic question, naturally resulting from his

knowledge of the practices of people in office: nothing more. Sent my

comedy to Harris, with a letter. Called on Northcote.

_30th._—Sat to Mr Opie, first sitting for my portrait, intended for

Colonel Barry. Mr G—— has a portrait of me painted by Opie, which was

exhibited last year, a most admirable painting and likeness. Received a

letter from Harris. A very excellent sonnet in to-day’s Herald on

Winter. General H—— told me, that Burns, who has written a pamphlet on

the union, cites an expression, which is become proverbial in Ireland,

i.e. “Put an Irishman on the spit, and an Irishman will be found to turn

it.”

_31st._—Second sitting to Opie. He related an anecdote of a man in

Cornwall, who being half drunk, and near a dreadful precipice, suddenly

fell, but happened to catch with his hands; on which he began to pray,

in a confused and terrified manner, till he was so exhausted that he

could hold no longer, and at last loosed his hold; but scarcely

descended a yard, being not quite so far on his road as the precipice;

from which, if he had fallen, he must probably have been dashed to

pieces. The disappointment must have been an odd sensation. Opie knew

the man.—S——, a painter, told us of his journey over Mount Cenis, when

those winter winds characteristically called Tormento, by the Italians,

prevailed, which will not let the snow rest till it becomes lodged in

cavities, filling them up, and making one even surface, dangerous to the

lives of the most experienced guides. S—— has been in India, where he

was painter to the Mogul; and dignified with a Persian title, appointing

him a general, and calling him the Royal Falcon of War, though he was in

no other capacity than that of painter; but such cut-throat titles are

there the only honourable distinctions, according to him, that are

conferred.

FEBRUARY _1st._—Dr. B—— and —— loud in praise of Dr. Drennan’s pamphlet

against Pitt. Third sitting to Opie. Called on Birch, who thinks

Phillips gets better prices for pictures than Christie. Mr and Mrs.

Opie, Mr and Mrs. Perry, Marian, Miss Barkley, daughter of Sir Robert,

Northcote, and Sir F—— B——, in the evening. On the whole a pleasant

party.

_2nd._—Fourth sitting to Opie, a short one, and only for the coat. A

report at Debrett’s of the massacre of the Neapolitan nobility by the

Lazaroni. Conversed with Lord Wycombe on the native ferocity of the

Irish. Conjectures run high, that Pitt will breed a serious civil war in

that country. Read three acts of my comedy to S——. It is still capable,

and indeed in want of great improvements.

_4th._—Mr Harris came by appointment, and we were mutually of opinion

farther alterations would greatly improve the comedy. Sale of Stuart,

the artist’s, pictures at Phillips’s rooms.

_5th._—Este, Dr. Towers, Parry, jun. at Debrett’s. Towers, a character

worth drawing. Drank tea with P——, who wished me to mention manuscript

travels written by Brown, to Robinson.

_6th._—The foot walk in Hyde Park one sheet of ice, on which, not being

aware, had a severe fall. No news at Debrett’s. Letter from Knight to

Attwood, declining to sing “The Joys of Eating, &c.” in the Old

Clothesman. Russian leather. Mr Breton said the report was, that the

recent death of the Duke of L—— was occasioned by poison

self-administered. This is probably as unfounded as another report,

which proves to be false, that Lord C—— had lost seventy thousand pounds

to the Duke of B——, and had then destroyed himself. Lord Cowper is

alive, and the Duke says he never spoke to him in his life. It is true,

indeed, the Duke of L—— had ruined himself by gaming, and had

endeavoured to drink away the remembrance of it.

_7th._—Wrote to Mr Harris concerning Knight’s song, &c. Nothing at

Debrett’s.

_8th._—Pitt at present thought insincere for pretending to persist in

the measure of a union. List of Wakefield’s jury from Mr Foulkes.

_9th._—Finished my second alteration of “the Lawyer.” Lord D—— at

Debrett’s; of opinion that the union is a dangerous affair to Pitt. The

death of Mr Rans of Moorhall, with whom I had some slight acquaintance,

announced in the papers. Bought the Crucifixion, a Caracci, highly

finished, at Phillips’s, the property of Pugh, a surgeon, who gave

eighty pounds, or guineas, for it. A Metzu sold for ninety-six guineas.

The subject, a man on horse-back, with host and hostess at an alehouse

door; bought by a young man, related to Lord Fitzwilliam.

_11th._—Sent my comedy and a letter to Mr Harris, stating the price I

required. He refused, and immediately returned the comedy. Borrowed and

repaid 18_l._ 16_s._ to Mr Robinson, and 60_l._ for a month, of Mr S——.

_12th._—Sat to Opie. Wrote to Mr P——, informing him that having seen Mr

Robinson, if Mr Brown will send his manuscript, and the price, Mr

Robinson would return an answer. Read a manuscript of Mr Tobin, jun.

_13th._—Agreed with Mr Phillips, auctioneer, to sell the whole of my

effects at five per cent., including all charges, except that I am to

remove books, prints, and pictures to his sale-room at my own expense.

Had a second fall on the unthawed snow, by which the spinal bone is so

sore I can hardly walk. Phillips, speaking of Count Kelly, characterised

him as uncommonly liberal, and a great lover of the arts. Phillips sold

his library, and asked permission to introduce some very indifferent

books of his own, which he estimated at forty pounds. The Count

disliking this, took the books at the estimate, sent them to Stockholm,

had a printed catalogue of them, and sold them by auction. This was a

thing totally new to the country, and drew numbers of people, some of

them from a considerable distance. The books sold for 120_l._ and the

Count remitted the money to Phillips.

_14th._—Wrote Finale and a new song for Incledon, in the Old Clothesman.

The dishonourable proceedings of Boyd and Benfield, the topic of the

day. The justification of Boyd, a lame, or rather a condemning tale. Saw

P——; informed him of what had passed with Harris.

_15th._—Sat to Opie.

_17th._—Messrs. G——, Clementi, Master Field, Mr and Mrs. Opie, Mr and

Mrs. F—— to dinner. Field played a concerto and other things of his own

composition. Is a youth of genius, for which Clementi loves, admires,

and instructs him; highly to his own honour.

_18th._—The opinion that Pitt has again lost a favourable opportunity of

treating with France is pretty general.

_20th._—Sat to Opie. Called on Sharp, and paid him for his print of ——;

which he said if I kept would become of great value, for it was the last

on such a subject, meaning the destruction of war, that would ever be

published. Guessing the reason of this whimsical assertion, I mentioned

Brothers, of whom he talked in his usual style. The wisdom of man, he

said, counteracting the wisdom of the Creator, had occasioned all our

miseries: but the tongue of wisdom was now subdued, meaning Egypt, which

was not only a slip of land resembling a tongue, but the place in which

the learning of the world originated. Thus, by the help of a pun and a

metaphor, he had double proof, which he accepts as indubitable. Syria,

Palestine, and all these countries are soon to be revolutionized; and

those who do not take up arms against their fellow men, are to meet at

the Grand Millennium. The earthquake is still to happen, and the

peaceable, even if uninspired, are all to be saved. So that I, being one

of them, were temples to tumble over my head, should find some

miraculous nail or rafter, or something else, equally wonderful, to save

me from being crushed. I asked him, as I had formerly done, why the

earthquake did not happen at the time positively appointed by Brothers;

and he said, that unless I were one of the inspired, it was a thing he

could not explain. Last summer he had retired to a lonely place near, or

at Kilburn; and there he himself had been absolutely favored with a

revelation, communicating to him personally, beyond all doubt, the

revolutions that are immediately to happen. He is a worthy and excellent

man, and in spite of this insanity, has an acute, strong, and inquiring

mind. Notwithstanding my cross-questioning him, he has a strong desire

to make a convert of me; and knowing the principles of peaceful

benevolence which I hold, has no small hopes of succeeding. He was happy

at the idea of having more talk on the subject, though I both plainly

and ironically, in conversing with him, treated it as it deserves,

except that I forbear as much as I can to wound him. He said he was

greatly gratified that, though I argued against Brothers, I never called

him rascally impostor, and other abusive epithets, common in the mouths

of his opponents. Laughed with —— at Debrett’s, at T——’s account some

time ago, of the prodigious stone, or rocky fragment, that was rained on

his estate. —— said, T—— was only half mad, and that vanity was the

possessing demon.

_21st._—Sat to Opie. Lord Wycombe brought the report to Debrett’s of the

loss of the Proserpine frigate, with Mr Grenville, his suite, and the

whole crew. Sent Mrs. —— a one pound note, as a present relief.

_22nd._—Argued at Debrett’s against the immorality of invective, for

which I consider Mr Wakefield as very blamable. Received a note from Mr

——, asking in the name of a friend to admit some pictures in my sale,

which I refused, as a public deception, and for other reasons.

_25th._—Met R. A——, who walked with me up Bond-Street. Disbelieves the

loss of Grenville. Fox still determined on retirement. Tobin called, and

inquired my thoughts on his brother’s manuscript, which I gave him.

_26th._—Sent the following notice to the Commissioners for the Income

Bill. “I have no income; that is, I have neither landed nor personal

property, that brings me either rent or interest. My income has always

been the produce of my labour; and that produce has been so reduced, by

the animosity of party spirit, that I find myself obliged to sell my

effects for the payment of my debts, that I may leave the kingdom till

party spirit shall subside.”

_27th._—Sat to Mr Opie.

_28th._—Sat to Opie. Sir L—— C—— at Debrett’s, glad to see me; a man of

unaffected manners, no pride, or as little perhaps as a man of wealth

and title can have, and with patriotic and benevolent intentions. Lord

Wycombe walked with me down Piccadilly, to inquire after my picture of

Angelica and Medoro.

MARCH _1st._—Sat to Opie. Northcote there, who warmly praised his whole

length of Mrs. Price, and his Old Soldier, and Girl with Beer. Phillips

came, read the catalogue, and approved my lotting of the pictures.

Called and saw his Wouvermans’ Hawking. Parry, jun., is given to hope

for a verdict in his favour, by Erskine.

_2nd._—Sat to Mr Opie. Aided to catalogue the German books.

_3rd._—Louisa and Theresa to breakfast. Spyring to tea. Informed Col.

Barry of the business of to-morrow; viz. my marriage with Louisa, and

received his hearty congratulations. He had seen my portrait, was highly

pleased, and gave Opie a draft on his banker.

_5th._—Went after breakfast at ten, and sat to Mr Drummond,

Carlisle-street, Soho, at the request of the proprietors of the Monthly

Mirror. Taken in crayons, size of life. A call from P——; he told me they

(meaning his friend, Mr Brown, and himself), had closed with Cadell for

a thousand guineas, that is, had sold the copyright of Brown’s travels

into Egypt, Darfoor, &c. for that sum.

_6th._—Went a second time and sat to Drummond.

_8th._—Called on Opie; but the morning so clouded after a fall of snow,

that it was too dark for him to paint, in the present almost finished

state of my portrait.

_9th._—Sat to Opie. A snowy and very bad day for the picture sale.

Difficulties made by ——, the auctioneer, concerning the prices marked by

me, though he had himself required I should mark them. Thirty-seven lots

of my pictures bought in.

_10th._—Mrs. Holcroft visited by Mrs. and Miss B——, Mr and Mrs. P——, and

by Mr and Mrs. Opie in the evening. Mr Brown, the traveller, called.

_12th._—Walked with Louisa in search of lodgings. Mr B—— to dinner, and

accompanied me, Sophia, and Louisa to the theatre Drury-lane. The

Secret, and Feudal Times, both of them very dull and indifferent.

END OF DIARY

CHAPTER VIII

Mr Holcroft soon after went abroad. On his arrival at Hamburgh, he went

to lodge at the house of his daughter and her husband, Mr Cole, who was

settled there in trade. He afterwards went to reside at the house of ——,

where he paid five pounds a week; and as his remittances from England

were often interrupted, he would have been reduced to great distress,

had it not been for the generous exertions of a stranger, a Mr

Schuckmacher. This gentleman, who was a merchant, advanced 250_l._ to Mr

Holcroft, on his note of hand. The first literary attempt which Mr

Holcroft made after he was settled on the continent failed. This was to

set up a journal, (the European Repository) containing an account of the

state of foreign literature, and anecdotes of celebrated characters. It

only reached the second number.

It is certain that Mr Holcroft’s introductions, and his connexions with

literary men abroad, would have afforded every opportunity for executing

such a work well, had it met with encouragement. While at Hamburgh, he

visited Klopstock, Voss, Sander, &c. &c. On his first introduction to

Klopstock, the latter laboured to shew the superiority of the German to

every other language in conciseness; and challenged Mr Holcroft to

translate with equal conciseness into English. To which he replied, that

Klopstock might be easily supposed to overcome Holcroft, but that the

English language ought not to suffer on that account. He told Mr

Holcroft a story of Voss, the celebrated classic; that at a time when he

was too ill even to hear a scholar read and parse a few lines in the

classics, familiar as they were to him, he was still able and desirous

to continue his translation of Ovid in Hexameters, and found relief from

this laborious task. When Baron Stolberg (the superintendant of the

academy) came to visit him, he hid his papers, lest he should be accused

of neglect of duty, or blamed for disregarding his health. Sander, a

Dane by birth, informed Mr Holcroft that the Road to Ruin, and the

Deserted Daughter, had been translated into the Danish language, and

that the latter had been the most popular of the pieces brought out the

preceding winter at Copenhagen.

The admiration of the Germans for English literature, and their contempt

for the French, are well known. Molière is the only man among the

latter, to whom they allow much genius. Their notions of excellence are

indeed rather hypercritical than common-place. They seem in general to

assign the highest stations to the greatest men, but their list of great

men is short. There are only four whom they consider as _poets_, that is

to say, inventors of a new style, namely, Homer, Dante, Shakspeare, and

Goethe. Why the last should have this high rank assigned him, I do not

know. He is placed by the Germans themselves far above Schiller. Mr

Holcroft while abroad, translated his poem of Herman and Dorothea. A

note from the author to the translator on this subject, will be found

among the letters at the end of the volume.—Mr Holcroft also, while he

was at Hamburgh, finished and sent over the comedy of ‘Hear both Sides,’

and his translation of ‘Deaf and Dumb,’ which were afterwards acted with

success, at Drury-Lane.

On his departure from England, he had renounced all idea of

picture-dealing, and connoisseurship. He however attended several

picture-sales, but without attempting to bid. One day as he was

strolling along the street, his attention was caught by a small picture,

which lay among some lumber at a broker’s shop. He went in, asked the

price of it, and was answered three guineas. Mr Holcroft made no

bargain, but determined to go home, and get Mrs. Holcroft to come and

look at it, to see whether any one else must not be as much struck with

it as he was. On re-examining the picture, his confidence in its being

an original increased, and he paid the money for it. As he was returning

home in triumph with the picture under his arm, he met Mercier, (Mrs.

Holcroft’s father) who had himself been a dabbler in pictures, and who,

laughing, exclaimed, ‘A ce trait je connois mon sang.’

The first step being got over, they consulted together, how to turn this

accident to advantage; they henceforward frequented auction-rooms, and

ransacked brokers’ shops, to make mutual discoveries of original

pictures, which might be had for a song. Mr Holcroft, in this manner,

laid out between four and five hundred pounds, by which he expected to

clear at least double the sum.

In this expectation he was once more wretchedly disappointed. Not

that the pictures were in themselves bad, they were many of them

excellent, and in general by the masters to whom they were

attributed; but they were not the finest specimens of those masters,

and with respect to second rate pictures, it requires either an

acquaintance with the particular master who happens to be in vogue

for the time, or regular connexions with other picture-dealers, to

secure the purchaser against loss. The pictures which Mr Holcroft

sent over to England, were fifty-seven in number. They were

entrusted to the care of Mr Godwin. He prevailed on some

professional friends, to go and look at them, who thought they would

hardly sell for the amount of the custom-house-duties, which were a

hundred-and-fifty pounds. A few of them were however brought away,

and left in the care of Mr Opie. The following friendly letter to Mr

Holcroft, was written on this subject.

‘_December 5, 1799._

‘I am quite ashamed that your letter should have remained so long

unnoticed; but being at Norwich when it arrived, I thought it better to

wait till I came to town, and had seen the pictures mentioned in it,

that I might at the same time I answered it, give you some account of

them.

‘The pictures I found, through the care of Mr Gillies, safely lodged in

my house on my return to town, which was only three days ago. With the

sketch by Rubens, I am quite charmed; it is really a most exquisite

thing. The portrait is a good one; but is not the likeness of Lord

Stratford, nor painted by Vandyke. The other two are not at first view

so much to my taste, nor am I convinced they were painted by the master

to whom you attribute them; but I cannot speak decisively, till I have

examined them with more attention. Care shall be taken of all, but the

Rubens I have mounted into my painting room, as it contains a great deal

worth studying.

‘You will do great injustice to the sentiments of esteem and friendship,

which both Mrs. Opie and myself feel for you, if you do not rest assured

that to hear of your health and welfare, will at all times give us

pleasure; and we have only to beg that in your next, you will make no

other use of your _bridle_, than to lay its reins on the neck of your

affection, in the utmost confidence, that all that comes from you, will

be received with a most hearty welcome.

‘I am, with the highest esteem,

‘Yours most sincerely,

J. OPIE.’

These pictures were all of them afterwards redeemed from the

custom-house; and with those which Mr Holcroft had bought in at his

first sale, and other purchases he made on the continent, sold for near

700_l._

While at Hamburgh, Mr Holcroft met with one of those alarming accidents,

of which, in the course of his life, a more than usual number fell to

his share. He had been recommended to bathe his feet in hot water, and

mix a certain quantity of aquafortis in the bath. As he was pouring the

aquafortis into the tub, the steam of the water caused the bottle, which

was of very thin glass, to burst; the aquafortis flew up to his face,

burned his wrists to the bone; but luckily his spectacles saved his

eyes. The state he was in was dreadful, yet not a single complaint

escaped him. ‘Thank God,’ he exclaimed to his terrified wife, who just

before the accident had wished to pour the aquafortis in, but was

prevented from doing so, ‘You and the child (whom she held in her arms)

are safe!’ His daughters, who were undressing in the next room, alarmed

by the shrieks of Mrs. Holcroft, rushed into the apartment, which was

filled with steam; and the distraction of the youngest at seeing the

condition her father was in, deprived her of all presence of mind. ‘For

Heaven’s sake, Fanny,’ said her father, ‘calm yourself; and do you,

Sophy, listen to what I say. Let Dr. Maclean be immediately fetched: he

lives in such a street. Your violent grief, my dear girls, instead of

good, does harm. Be collected, and act like rational beings.’ It was

more than two hours before he was attended by his friend, Dr. Maclean.

Till he arrived, Mr Holcroft supposed himself deprived of sight; and the

joy which the assurance that he was not blind excited may be easily

imagined. During a long and painful confinement, he was perfectly

cheerful, and his mind always employed and active.

Two years before this accident, Mr Holcroft was so dangerously ill as to

be given over by his physicians: and at that time his fortitude and

presence of mind saved his life. One night the spasms, to which he was

subject, were so violent, that he felt, if they continued, he could not

live. Dr. Pitcairn had advised him to take a very small quantity of

laudanum, beginning with five drops, which he might increase to fifteen

or twenty at the utmost, should the pain become worse. Finding the pain

grow more and more violent, he desired his amanuensis who attended him,

to give him fifteen, then twenty drops at a time. This he took to the

amount of 140 in the course of the night. Mr Ralph expostulated, and

said he was afraid to give them; but Mr Holcroft insisted—‘If these

pains continue,’ said he, ‘it is impossible I should live, and I can but

die.’ This bold but dangerous experiment succeeded.

Mr Holcroft’s stay at Hamburgh lasted above a year. He had some

difficulty in procuring a passport to Paris from the French minister at

the Hague, (as we were then at war with France), but on a second

application he succeeded. He had also met with some impediment in

obtaining one from Mr Frere, before he went abroad. While he was at

Hamburgh, a paragraph appeared in one of our morning papers, directly

charging him with being a spy of the French government. To this

paragraph he condescended to make a public answer.

Mr Holcroft remained above two years at Paris. While here, he seems to

have been chiefly occupied in collecting materials for the large work on

the manners, &c. of this capital, which he published after his return,

in 1804. Of this work (Travels in France, &c.) it is only just to say,

that it is one of the most interesting and instructive books of travels

in the language. Its fault perhaps is, that it bears too hard on the

foibles of the French, which Mr Holcroft seems to have regarded too much

with the eye of an Englishman. Their own self-sufficiency, it is true,

is enough to provoke and justify considerable severity of criticism.

With respect to the question itself of the difference between the two

nations, all that can be said upon it, I think, amounts only to this,

that the one has too much gravity, and the other too much levity. Our

gravity frequently degenerates into phlegm, coldness, reserve, pride,

obstinacy, and sullenness; as their constitutional levity is productive

of frivolity, pertness, unmeaning loquacity, self-conceit, fickleness,

and indifference to good or evil. The feelings of the French are more

quick and lively; those of the English more deep and permanent: again,

their apprehensions have more facility and nicety of observation; our

own countrymen have shewn greater strength and comprehension of mind.

France has, I am persuaded, produced more clever men than England; but

that she has produced more great men than England, cannot be pretended.

The mind of a Frenchman is, in general, more easily moved, and by

slighter causes; an Englishman’s feelings are, for the very reason that

they require a greater momentum to bring them out, more steady and more

strong. I do not here inquire into the superiority of the French or

English character. I only state what I conceive to be the difference

with a view to those among the French, who, setting up an exclusive

claim to certain qualities, will not allow others the superiority in

things which are totally distinct, and who are ready to grasp all

excellence, however incompatible, to themselves. Those who wish to be

furnished with facts illustrative of the peculiar manners and character

of the French, will find ample materials for this purpose, accompanied

with refined and discriminating reflections, in the Travels of our

author.