This excellent man had the last days of his life embittered by the
money-lenders. He had commenced his career surrounded by every
circumstance that could render existence agreeable; fortune, in his
early days, having smiled most benignantly on him. His father was a
man of considerable ability, and was to the past generation what
Rowland Hill is in the present day--the great benefactor of
correspondents. He first proposed and carried out the mail-coach
system; and letters, instead of being at the mercy of postboys, and a
private speculation in many instances, became the care of Government,
and were transmitted under its immediate direction.
During the lifetime of Mr. Palmer, the reward due to him for his
suggestions and his practical knowledge was denied; and he accordingly
went to Bath, and became the manager and proprietor of the theatre,
occasionally treading the boards himself, for which his elegant
deportment and good taste eminently qualified him. He has often been
mistaken for Gentleman Palmer, whose portrait is well drawn in the
Memoir of Sheridan by Dr. Sigmond, prefixed to Bohn's edition of
Sheridan's plays. Mr. Palmer was successful in his undertaking, and at
his death, his son found himself the inheritor of a handsome fortune,
and became a universal favourite in Bath.
The corporation of that city, consisting of thirty apothecaries, were,
in those borough-mongering days, the sole electors to the House of
Commons, and finding young Palmer hospitable, and intimate with the
Marquis of Bath and Lord Camden, and likewise desiring for themselves
and their families free access to the most agreeable theatre in
England, returned him to Parliament. He entered the army and became a
conspicuous officer in the 10th Hussars, which, being commanded by the
Prince Regent, led him at once into Carlton House, the Pavilion at
Brighton, and consequently into the highest society of the country; for
which his agreeable manners, his amiable disposition, and his
attainments, admirably qualified him. His fortune was sufficiently
large for all his wants; but, unfortunately, as it turned out, the
House of Commons voted to him, as the representative of his father,
100,000£., which he was desirous of laying out to advantage.
A fine opportunity, as he imagined, had presented itself to him; for,
in travelling in the diligence from Lyons to Paris, a journey then
requiring three days, he met a charming widow, who told a tale that had
not only a wonderful effect upon his susceptible heart, but upon his
amply-filled purse. She said her husband, who had been the proprietor
of one of the finest estates in the neighbourhood of Bordeaux, was just
dead, and that she was on her way to Paris to sell the property, that
it might be divided, according to the laws of France, amongst the
family. Owing, however, to the absolute necessity of forcing a sale,
that which was worth an enormous sum would realize one-quarter only of
its value. She described the property as one admirably fitted for the
production of wine; that it was, in fact, the next estate to the
Chateau Lafitte, and would prove a fortune to any capitalist. The
fascinations of this lady, and the temptation of enormous gain to the
speculator, impelled the gallant colonel to offer his services to
relieve her from her embarrassment; and by the time the diligence
arrived in Paris, he had become the proprietor of a fine domain, which
was soon irrevocably fixed on him by the lady's notary, in return for a
large sum of money: which, had the colonel proved a man of business,
would no doubt have been amply repaid, and might have become the source
of great wealth.
Palmer, however, conscious of his inability, looked around him for an
active agent, and believed he had found one in a Mr. Gray, a man of
captivating manners and good connexions, but almost as useless a person
as the General himself. Fully confident in his own abilities, Gray had
already been concerned in many speculations, not one of which had ever
succeeded, but all had led to the demolition of large fortunes.
Plausible in his address, and possessing many of those superficial
qualities that please the multitude, he appeared to be able to secure
for the claret--which was the production of the estate--a large
clientele. Palmer's claret, under his auspices, began to be talked of
in the clubs; and the bon vivant was anxious to secure a quantity of
this highly-prized wine. The patronage of the Prince Regent was
considered essential, who, with his egotistical good nature, and from a
kindly feeling for Palmer, gave a dinner at Carlton House, when a fair
trial was to be given to his claret. A select circle of gastronomes
was to be present, amongst whom was Lord Yarmouth, well known in those
days by the appellation of "Red-herrings," from his rubicund whiskers,
hair, and face, and from the town of Yarmouth deriving its principal
support from the importation from Holland of that fish; Sir Benjamin
Bloomfield, Sir William Knighton, and Sir Thomas Tyrwhitt, were also of
the party. The wine was produced, and was found excellent, and the
spirits of the party ran high; the light wine animating them without
intoxication. The Prince was delighted, and, as usual upon such
occasions, told some of his best stories, quoted Shakspeare, and was
particularly happy upon the bouquet of the wine as suited "to the holy
Palmer's kiss."
Lord Yarmouth alone sat in moody silence, and, on being questioned as
to the cause, replied that whenever he dined at his Royal Highness's
table, he drank a claret which he much preferred--that which was
furnished by Carbonell. The Prince immediately ordered a bottle of this
wine; and to give them an opportunity of testing the difference, he
desired that some anchovy sandwiches should be served up. Carbonell's
wine was placed upon the table: it was a claret made expressly for the
London market, well-dashed with Hermitage, and infinitely more to the
taste of the Englishman than the delicately-flavoured wine they had
been drinking. The banquet terminated in the Prince declaring his own
wine superior to that of Palmer's, and suggesting that he should try
some experiments on his estate to obtain a better wine. Palmer come
from Carlton House much mortified. On Sir Thomas Tyrwhitt attempting
to console him, and saying that it was the anchovies that had spoiled
the taste of the connoisseurs, the general said loudly enough to be
heard by Lord Yarmouth, "No; it was the confounded red herrings." A
duel was very nearly the consequence.
General Palmer, feeling it his duty to follow the advice of the Prince,
rooted out his old vines, planted new ones, tried all sorts of
experiments at an immense cost, but with little or no result. He and
his agent, in consequence, got themselves into all sorts of
difficulties, mortgaged the property, borrowed largely, and were at
last obliged to have recourse to usurers, to life assurances, and every
sort of expedient to raise money. The theatre at Bath was sold, the
Reform in Parliament robbed him of his seat, and at last he and his
agent became ruined men. A subscription would have been raised to
relieve him, but he preferred ending his days in poverty to living upon
the bounty of his friends. He sold his commission, and was plunged in
the deepest distress; while the accumulation of debt to the usurers
became so heavy, that he was compelled to pass through the Insolvent
Court. Thus ended the career of a man who had been courted in society,
idolized in the army, and figured as a legislator for many years. His
friends, of course, fell off, and he was to be seen a mendicant in the
streets of London--shunned where he once was adored. Gray, his agent,
became equally involved; but, marrying a widow with some money, he was
enabled to make a better fight. Eventually, however, he became a prey
to the money-lender, and his life ended under circumstances distressing
to those who had known him in early days.
"MONK" LEWIS
One of the most agreeable men of the day was "Monk" Lewis. As the
author of the Monk and the Tales of Wonder, he not only found his way
into the best circles, but had gained a high reputation in the literary
world. His poetic talent was undoubted, and he was intimately connected
with Walter Scott in his ballad researches. His Alonzo the Brave and
the Fair Imogene was recited at the theatres, and wherever he went he
found a welcome reception. His West Indian fortune and connections,
and his seat in Parliament, gave him access to all the aristocratic
circles; from which, however, he was banished upon the appearance of
the fourth and last dialogue of the Pursuits of Literature. Had a
thunderbolt fallen upon him, he could not have been more astonished
than he was by the onslaught of Mr. Matthias, which led to his
ostracism from fashionable society.
It is not for me to appreciate the value of this satirical poem, which
created such an extraordinary sensation, not only in the fashionable,
but in the political world; I, however, remember that whilst at
Canning's, at the Bishop of London's, and at Gifford's, it was
pronounced the most classical and spirited production that had ever
issued from the press, it was held up at Lord Holland's, at the Marquis
of Lansdowne's, and at Brookes's, as one of the most spiteful and
ill-natured satires that had ever disgraced the literary world; and one
which no talent or classic lore could ever redeem. Certain it is, that
Matthias fell foul of poor "Monk" Lewis for his romance: obscenity and
blasphemy were the charges laid at his door; he was acknowledged to be
a man of genius and fancy, but this added only to his crime, to which
was superadded that of being a very young man. The charges brought
against him cooled his friends and heated his enemies; the young ladies
were forbidden to speak to him, matrons even feared him, and from being
one of the idols of the world, he became one of the objects of its
disdain. Even his father was led to believe that his son had abandoned
the paths of virtue, and was on the high road to ruin.
"Monk" Lewis, unable to stand against the outcry thus raised against
him, determined to try the effects of absence, and took his departure
for the island in which his property was; but unfortunately for those
who dissented from the ferocious judgment that was passed upon him, and
for those who had discrimination enough to know that after all there
was nothing very objectionable in his romance, and felt assured that
posterity would do him justice, this amiable and kind-hearted man died
on his passage out; leaving a blank in one variety of literature which
has never been filled up.
The denunciation was not followed by any other severe criticism; but
editors have, in compliance with the insinuations of Matthias, omitted
the passages which he pointed out as objectionable, so that the
original text is seldom met with.
"Monk" Lewis had a black servant, affectionately attached to his
master; but so ridiculously did this servant repeat his master's
expressions, that he became the laughing-stock of all his master's
friends: Brummell used often to raise a hearty laugh at Carlton House
by repeating witticisms which he pretended to have heard from Lewis's
servant. Some of these were very stale; yet they were considered so
good as to be repeated at the clubs, greatly adding to the reputation
of the Beau as a teller of good things. "On one occasion," said
Brummell, "I called to inquire after a young lady who had sprained her
ancle; Lewis, on being asked how she was, had said in the black's
presence, 'The doctor has seen her, put her legs straight, and the poor
chicken is doing well.' The servant, therefore, told me, with a
mysterious and knowing look, 'Oh, sir, the doctor has been here; she
has laid eggs, and she and the chickens are doing well.'"
Such extravagances in those days were received as the essence of wit,
and to such stories did the public give a willing ear, repeating them
with unwearying zest. Even Sheridan's wit partook of this character,
making him the delight of the Prince, who ruled over the fashionable
world, and whose approbation was sufficient to give currency to
anything, however ludicrous and absurd.