The English spy (part 3 of 5)
4 This Club, which may boast among its members some of the most distinguished names of the age, including royalty itself, owed its origin to the talents of those celebrated artists Richards and Loutherbourg, whose scenic performances were in those days often exhibited to a select number of the nobility and gentry, patrons of the drama and the arts, in the painting-room of the theatre, previous to their being displayed to the public. It was on one of those occasions that some noblemen surprised the artist cooking his beef- steak for luncheon in his painting-room, and kindly partaking of the dejeune a la fourchette, with him, suggested and established the Beef-steak Club, which was originally, and up to the time of the fire, held in an apart-ment over the old Theatre Royal, Covent Garden; but since that period the members have been accommodated by Mr. Arnold, who built the present room expressly for their use. In page 216 of this work, allusion will be found by name to some of the brilliant wits who graced this festive board, and gave a lustre to the feast. In the old place of meeting the identical gridiron on which Richards and Loutherbourg operated was to be seen attached to the ceiling, emblematical of the origin of the society, which may now be considered as the only relic left of that social intercourse which formerly existed in so many shapes between those who were distinguished for their noble birth and wealth, and the poorer, but equally illustrious, of the children of Genius. It would be an act of injustice to the present race of scenic artists to close this note without acknowledging their more than equal merits to their predecessors: the Grieves (father and sons), Phillips, Marinari, Wilson, Tomkins, and Stanfield, are all names of high talent; but the novelty of their art has, from its general cultivation, lost much of this peculiar attraction.
~342~~for them over the audience part of the English Opera House. The ruby glow of the old boy's countenance shone like an omen of the merry humour of his mind. "What, out for a spree, boys, or just bailed from the watch-house, which is it? the alpha or omega, for they generally follow one another?" "Then you are in time for the equivoque, Crony," said Echo; "so enlist him, Transit;" and without more ceremony, Crony was marched off, __vi et armis, to the Finish, a coffee-house in James-street, Covent Garden, where the peep-o'-day boys and family men meet to conclude the night's debauch (see plate); "Video meliora proboque, Deteriora sequoi;" you will exclaim, and 'tis granted; but
"_Lusus animo debent aliquando dari, Ad cogitandum melior ut red eat sibi_,"
says Phodrus, and be the poet's apology mine, for I am neither afraid or ashamed to confess myself an admirer of life in all its variegated lights and shadows, deriving my amusement from the great source of knowledge, the study of that eccentric volume--man. The new police act has, in some measure, abated the extent of these nuisances, the low coffee-shops of the metropolis, which were, for the greater part, little better than a rendezvous for thieves of every description, depots both for the ~343~~plunder and the plunderer; where, if an unthinking or profligate victim once entered, he seldom came out without experiencing treatment which operated like a severe lesson, that would leave its moral upon his mind as long as he continued an inhabitant of the terrestrial world.
The attempt to describe the party around us baffled even the descriptive powers of old Crony; some few, indeed, were known to the man of the world as reputed sharpers,--fellows who are always to be found lingering about houses of such resort, to catch the inexperienced; when, having sacrificed their victim either by gambling, cheating, or swindling, they divide the profits with the keeper of the house, without whose assistance they could not hope to arrive at the necessary information, or be enabled to continue their frauds with impunity; but, thus protected, they have a ready witness at hand to speak to their character, without the suspicion of his being a confederate in their villany. Here might be seen the woman of pleasure, lost to every sense of her sex's shame, consuming the remaining portion of the night by a wasteful expenditure of her ill-acquired gains upon some abandoned profligate, bearing, indeed, the outward form of man, but presenting a most degrading spectacle--a wretch so lost to all sense of honour and manhood as meanly to subsist on the wages of prostitution. One or two characters I must not omit: observe the fair Cyprian with the ermine tippet, seated on the right of a well-known billiard sharp, who made his escape from Dublin for having dived a little too deep into the pockets of his brother emeralders; here he passes for a swell, and has abandoned his former profession for the more honest union of callings, a pimp and playman, in other words, a finished Greek. The lady was the chere amie of the unfortunate youth Hayward (designated as the modern Macheath), who suffered an ignominious death. He was betrayed and sold to the ~344~~officers by this very woman, upon whom he had lavished the earnings of his infamy, when endeavouring to secrete himself from the searching eye of justice. The unhappy female on the other side was early in life seduced by the once celebrated Lord B----, by whose title, to his lasting infamy, she is still known: what she might have been, but for his arts, reflection too often compels her to acknowledge, when sober and sinking under her load of misery; at other times she has recourse to liquor to drown her complicated misfortunes; when wild and infuriated, she more nearly resembles a demon than a woman, spreading forth terror and destruction upon all around; in this state she is often brought to the police-office, where the humanity of the magistrates, softened perhaps by a recollection of her wrongs, generally operates to procure for her some very trifling and lenient sentence.{5}
5 THE LIFE OF A WOMAN OF THE TOWN.
Ah! what avails how once appear'd the fair, When from gay equipage she falls obscure?
In vain she moves her livid lips in prayer; What man so mean to recollect the poor?
From place to place, by unfee'd bailiffs drove, As fainting fawns from thirsty bloodhounds fly;
See the sad remnants of unhallow'd love In prisons perish, or on dunghills die.
Pimps and dependents once her beauties praised, And on those beauties, vermin-like, they fed;
From wretchedness the crew her bounty raised, When by her spoils enrich'd--deny her bread.
Through street to street she wends, as want betides, Like Shore's sad wife, in winter's dismal hours;
The bleak winds piercing her unnourish'd sides, Her houseless head dripping with drizzy showers.
Sickly she strolls amidst the miry lane, While streaming spouts dash on her unclothed neck;
By famine pinch'd, pinch'd by disease-bred pain, Contrition's portrait, and rash beauty's wreck.
~345~~We had now passed from the first receptacle to an inner and more elegant apartment, where we could be accommodated with suitable refreshments, wine, spirits, or, in fact, any thing we pleased to order and were disposed to pay for; a practice at most of these early coffee-houses, as they are denominated. The company in this room were, as far as appearances went, of rather a better order; but an event soon occurred which convinced us that their morality was perhaps more exceptionable than the motley group which filled the outer chamber. A bevy of damsels were singing, flirting, and drinking, to amuse their companions,--when all at once the doors were forced open, and in rushed three of the principal officers of Bow-street, the indefatigable Bishop, the determined Smith, and the resolute Ruthven (see plate), all armed and prepared for some dreadful encounter: in an instant their followers had possessed themselves of the doors--flight, therefore, was in vain; and Bob Transit, in attempting it, narrowly escaped an awkward crack on the crania from old Jack Townshend, who being past active service, was posted at the entrance with the beak himself, to do garrison duty.
"The traps! the traps!" vociferated some one in the adjoining room; "Douse the glims! stash it--stash it!" was the general exclamation in ours: but before the party could effect their purpose, the principals were in safe custody: and the reader (i.e. pocket-book) containing all the stolen property, preserved from the flames by the wary eye and prompt arm of the indefatigable Bishop. Before any one was allowed to depart the room, a general muster and search took place, in which poor Bob Transit felt most awkward, as some voluptuous sketches found in his pocket called forth
She dies; sad outcast! heart-broke by remorse; Pale, stretch'd against th' inhospitable doors; While gathering gossips taunt the flesh less corse, And thank their gods that they were never w--res!
~346~~the severe animadversion of his worship, the beak, who lamented that such fine talent should be thus immorally applied: with this brief lecture, and a caution for the future, we were allowed to escape; while almost all the rest, male and female, were marched off to an adjoining watch-house, to abide the public examination and fiat of the morrow. Of all the party, old Crony was the most sensibly affected by the late rencontre; twenty bottles of soda-water could not have produced a more important change. His conversation and appearance had, in an instant, recovered their wonted steadiness; and before we were half across the market, Crony was moralizing upon the dangers of the scene from which we had so recently and fortunately escaped. But hearts young and buoyant as ours, when lighted up by the fire of enterprise, and provoked to action by potent charges of the grape, were not to be dashed by one repulse, or compelled to beat a retreat at the first brush with a reconnoitring party; we had sallied forth in pursuit of a spree, and frolic we were determined upon,
"While misty night, with silent pace, Steals gradual o'er the wanton chase."
There is something very romantic in prowling the streets of the metropolis at midnight, in quest of adventure; at least, so my companions insisted, and I had embarked too deeply in the night's debauch to moralize upon its consequences. How many a sober-looking face demure when morning dawns would blush to meet the accusing spirit of the night, dressed out in all the fantasies of whim and eccentricity with which the rosy god of midnight revelry clothes his laughter-loving bacchanals--
"While sleep attendant at her drowsy fane, Parent of ease, envelopes all your train!"
The lamentations of old Crony brought to mind the ~347~~complaints of honest Jack Falstaff against his associates. "There is no truth in villanous man!" said our monitor. "I remember when a gentleman might have reeled round the environs of Covent Garden, in and out of every establishment, from the Bedford to Mother Butlers, without having his pleasures broken in upon by the irruptions of Bow-street mohawks, or his person endangered by any association he chose to mix with; but we are returning to the times of the Roundheads and the Puritans; cant, vile hypocritical cant, has bitten the ear of authority, and the great officers of the state are infected with the Jesuitical mania.
'Man is a ship that sails with adverse winds, And has no haven till he land at death. Then, when he thinks his hands fast grasp the bank, Conies a rude billow betwixt him and safety, And beats him back into the deep again.'"
"I subscribe to none of their fooleries," said I; "for I am of the true orthodox--love my king, my girl, my friend, and my bottle: a truce with all their raven croakings; they would overload mortality, and press our shoulders with too great a weight of dismal miseries. But come, my boys, we who have free souls, let us to the banquet, while yet Sol's fiery charioteer lies sleeping at his eastern palace in the lap of Thetis--let us chant carols of mirth to old Jove or bully Mars; and, like chaste votaries, perform our orgies at the shrine of Venus, ere yet Aurora tears aside the curtain that conceals our revels." In this way we rallied our cameleon-selves, until we again found shelter from the dews of night in Carpenter's coffee-house; a small, but well-conducted place, standing at the east end of the market, which opens between two and three o'clock in the morning, for the accommodation of those who are hourly arriving with waggon loads of vegetable commodities. Here, over a bottle of mulled port, Crony gave us the history of ~348~~what Covent Garden used to be, when the eminent, the eccentric, and the notorious in every walk of life, were to be found nightly indulging their festivities within its famous precincts. "Covent Garden," said Crony, once so celebrated for its clubs of wits and convents of fine women, is grown as dull as modern Athens, and its ladies of pleasure almost as vulgar as Scotch landladies; formerly, the first beauties of the time assembled every evening under the Piazzas, and promenaded for hours to the soft notes of the dulcet lute, and the silver tongues of amorous and persuasive beaus; then the gay scene partook of the splendour of a Venetian carnival, and such beauties as the Kitten, Peggy Yates, Sally Hall the brunette, Betsy Careless, and the lively Mrs. Stewart, graced the merry throng, with a hundred more, equally famed, whose names are enrolled in the cabinet of Love's votaries. Then there was a celebrated house in Charles-street, called the field of blood, where the droll fellows of the time used nightly to resort, and throw down whole regiments of black artillery; and then at Tom or Moll King's, a coffee-house so called, which stood in the centre of Covent Garden market, at midnight might be found the bucks, bloods, demireps, and choice spirits of London, associated with the most elegant and fascinating Cyprians, congregated with every species of human kind that intemperance, idleness, necessity, or curiosity could assemble together. There you might see Tom King enter as rough as a Bridewell whipper, roaring down the long room and rousing all the sleepers, thrusting them and all who had empty glasses out of his house, setting everything to rights,--when in would roll three or four jolly fellows, claret-cosey, and in three minutes put it all into uproar again; playing all sorts of mad pranks, until the guests in the long room were at battle-royal together; for in those days pugilistic encounters were equally common as with the present ~349~~times, owing to the celebrity of Broughton and his amphitheatre, where the science of boxing was publicly taught. Then was the Spiller's Head in Clare-market, in great vogue for the nightly assemblage of the wits; there might be seen Hogarth, and Betterton the actor, and Dr. Garth, and Charles Churchill, the first of English satirists, and the arch politician, Wilkes, and the gay Duke of Wharton, and witty Morley, the author of Joe Miller, and Walker, the celebrated Macheath, and the well-known Bab Selby, the oyster-woman, and Fig, the boxer, and old Corins, the clerical attorney.--All "hail, fellow, well met."{6} And a friend of mine has in his possession a most extraordinary picture of Hogarth's, on this subject, which has never yet been engraved from. It is called St. James's Day, or the first day of oysters, and represents the interior of the Spiller's Head in Clare-market, as it then appeared. The principal figures are the gay and dissolute Duke of Wharton, for whom the well-known Bab Selby, the oyster-wench, is opening oysters; Spiller is standing at her back, patting her shoulder; the figure sitting smoking by the side of the duke is a portrait of Morley, the author of Joe Miller; and the man standing behind is a portrait of the well-known attendant on the duke's drunken frolics, Fig, the brother of Fig, the boxer: the person drinking at the bar is Corins, called the parson-attorney, from his habit of dressing in clerical attire; the two persons sitting at the table represent portraits of the celebrated Dr. Garth, and Betterton, the actor; the figures, also, of Walker, the celebrated Macheath, and Lavinia Fenton, the highly-reputed Polly, afterwards Duchess of Bolton, may be recognised in the back-ground.
The circumstances of this picture having escaped the notice of the biographer of Hogarth is by no means singular. Mr. Halls, one of the magistrates at Bow-street, has, among other choice specimens by Hogarth, the lost picture of the Harlot's Progress; the subject telling her fortune by the tea-grounds in her cup, admirably characteristic of the artist and his story. In my own collection I have the original picture of the Fish-Women of Calais, with a view of the market-place, painted on the spot, and as little known as the others to which I have alluded. There are, no doubt, many other equally clever performances of Hogarth's prolific pencil which are not generally known to the public, or have not yet been engraved. ~350~~in the same neighbourhood, in Russel-court, at the old Cheshire Cheese, the inimitable but dissolute Tom Brown wrote many of his cleverest essays. Then too commenced the midnight revelries and notoriety of the Cider Cellar, in Maiden-lane, when Sim Sloper, Bob Washington, Jemmy Tas well, Totty Wright, and Harry Hatzell, led the way for a whole regiment more of frolic-making beings who, like Falstaff, were not only, witty themselves, but the cause of keeping it alive in others: to these succeeded Porson the Grecian, Captain Thompson, Tom Hewerdine, Sir John Moore, Mr. Edwin, Mr. Woodfall, Mr. Brownlow, Captain Morris, and a host of other highly-gifted men, the first lyrical and political writers of the day,--who frequented the Cider Cellar after the meetings of the Anacreontic, beefsteak, and humbug clubs then held in the neighbourhood, to taste the parting bowl and swear eternal friendship. In later times, Her Majesty the Queen of Bohemia{7} raised her standard in Tavistock-row, Covent Garden, where she held a midnight court for the wits; superintended by the renowned daughter of Hibernia, and maid of honour to her majesty, the facetious Mother Butler--the ever-constant supporter of Richard Brinsley Sheridan, esquire, and a leading feature in all the memorable Westminster elections of the last fifty years. How many jovial nights have I passed and jolly fellows have I met in the snug sanctum sanctorum! a little crib, as the fishmongers would call it, with an entrance through the bar, and into which none were ever permitted to enter without a formal introduction and the gracious permission of the hostess. Among those who were thus specially privileged, and had the honour of the entre, were the reporters for the morning papers, the leading members of the eccentrics, the actors and musicians of the two Theatres Royal, merry members of both Houses of
7 The sign of the house.
~351~~Parliament, and mad wags of every country who had any established claim to the kindred feelings of genius. Such were the frequenters of the Finish. Here, poor Tom Sheridan, with a comic gravity that set discretion at defiance, would let fly some of his brilliant drolleries at the improvisatore, Theodore Hook; who, lacking nothing of his opponent's wit, would quickly return his tire with the sharp encounter of a satiric epigram or a brace of puns, planted with the most happy effect upon the weak side of his adversary's merriment. There too might be seen the wayward and the talented George Cook, gentlemanly in conduct, and full of anecdote when sober, but ever captious and uproarious in his cups. Then might be heard a strange encounter of expressions between the queen of Covent Garden and the voluptuary, Lord Barrymore,{8} seconded by his brother, the pious Augustus. In one corner might be seen poor Dermody, the poet, shivering with wretchedness, and Mother Butler pleading his cause with a generous feeling that does honour to her heart, collecting for him a temporary supply which, alas! his imprudence generally dissipated with the morrow. Here, George Sutton Manners,{9} and Peter Finnerty,{10} and James Brownly,{11} inspired by frequent potations of the real
8 Designated Cripplegate and Newgate.
9 The relative of the present Archbishop of Canterbury, and then editor of the Satirist magazine.
10 Peter Finnerty was a reporter on the Chronicle. The his- tory of Finnerty's political persecutions in his own country (Ireland), and afterwards in this, are interwoven with our history. The firmness and honesty of his mind had endeared him to a very large circle of patriot friends. He was eloquent, but impetuous, his ideas appearing to flow too fast for delivery. With all the natural warmth of his country, he had a heart of sterling gold. Finnerty died in 1822, very shortly after his friend Perry.
11 James Brownly, formerly a reporter on the Times; of whom Sheridan said, hearing him speak, that his situation ought to have been in the body of the House of Commons, instead of the gallery. Brownly possessed very rare natural talents, was originally an upholsterer in Catherine- street, Strand, and by dint of application acquired a very correct knowledge of the tine arts: he was particularly skilled in architecture and heraldry. In addition to his extraordinary powers as an orator, he was a most elegant critic, and a very amiable man. He died in 1822, much regretted by all who knew him.
~352~~Rocrea whiskey, would hold forth in powerful contention, until mine hostess of the Finish{12} would put an end to the debate; and the irritation it would sometimes engender, by disencumbering herself of a few of her Milesian monosyllables. Then would bounce into the room, Felix M'Carthy, the very cream of comicalities, and the warm-hearted James Hay ne, and Frank Phippen, and Michael Nugent, and the eloquent David Power, and memory Middleton, and father Proby, just to sip an emulsion after the close of their labours in reporting a long debate in the House of Commons. Here, too, I remember to have seen for the first time in my life, the wayward Byron, with the light of genius beaming in his noble countenance, and an eye brilliant and expressive as the evening star; the rich juice of the Tuscan grape had diffused an unusual glow over his features, and inspired him with a playful animation, that but rarely illumined the misanthropic gloominess of his too sensitive mind. An histrionic star alike distinguished for talent and eccentricity accompanied him--the gallant, gay Lothario, Kean. But I should consume the remnant of the night to retrace more of the fading recollections of the Finish. That it was a scene where prudence did not always preside, is true; but there was a rich union of talent and character always to be found within its circle, that
12 Mother Butler, the queen of Covent-garden, for many years kept the celebrated Finish, where, if shut out of your lodging, you might take shelter till morning, very often in the very best of company. The house has, since she left it, been shut up through the suspension of its licence. Mother Butler was a witty, generous-hearted, and very extraordinary woman. She is, I believe, still living, and in good circumstances.
~353~~prevented any very violent outrage upon propriety or decorum. In the present day, there is nothing like it--the Phoenix,{13} Offley's,{14} the Coal-hole,{15} and what yet remains of the dismembered Eccentrics,{16} bears no comparison to the ripe drolleries and
13 A society established at the Wrekin tavern in Broad- court, in imitation of the celebrated club at Brazennose College, Oxford, and of whom I purpose to take some notice hereafter.
14 The Burton ale rooms; frequented by baby bucks, black- legs and half-pay officers.
15 A tavern in Fountain-court, Strand, kept by the poet Rhodes; celebrated for the Saturday ordinary.
16 In the room, where of old the Eccentrics {*} met; When mortals were Brilliants, and fond of a whet, And Hecate environ'd all London in jet. Where Adolphus, and Shorri',{**} and famed Charley Fox, With a hundred good whigs led by Alderman Cox, Put their names in the books, and their cash in the box; Where perpetual Whittle,{***} facetiously grand, On the president's throne each night took his stand, With his three-curly wig, and his hammer in hand: Then Brownly, with eloquence florid and clear, Pour'd a torrent of metaphor into the ear, With well-rounded periods, and satire severe. Here too Peter Finnerty, Erin's own child, Impetuous, frolicsome, witty, and wild, With many a tale has our reason beguiled: Then wit was triumphant, and night after night Was the morn usher'd in with a flood of delight.
* The Eccentrics, a club principally composed of persons connected with the press or the drama, originally established at the Swan, in Chandos-street, Covent-garden, under the name of the Brilliants, and afterwards removed to the Sutherland Arms, in May's-buildings, St. Martin's-lane; --here, for many years, it continued the resort of some of the first wits of the time; the chair was seldom taken till the theatres were over, and rarely vacated till between four and five in the morning.
** Sheridan, Charles Fox, Adolphus, and many of the most eminent men now at the bar, were members or occasional frequenters.
*** James Whittle, Esq., of Fleet-street, (or, as he was more generally denominated, the facetious Jemmy Whittle, of the respectable firm of Laurie and Whittle, booksellers and publishers) was for some years perpetual president of the society, and by his quaint manners, and good-humoured sociality, added much to the felicity of the scene--he is but recently dead.
~354~~pleasant witticisms which sparkled forth in endless variety among the choice spirits who frequented the sanctum sanctorum of the old Finish. "There is yet, however, one more place worthy of notice," said Crony; "not for any amusement we shall derive from its frequenters, but, simply, that it is the most notorious place in London." Thither it was agreed we should adjourn; for Crony's description of Madame and Messieurs the Conducteurs was quite sufficient to produce excitement in the young and ardent minds by which he was then surrounded. I shall not pollute this work by a repetition of the circumstances connected with this place, as detailed by old Crony, lest humanity should start back with horror and disgust at the bare mention, and charity endeavour to throw discredit on the true, but black recital. The specious pretence of selling shell-fish and oysters is a mere trap for the inexperienced, as every description of expensive wines, liqueurs, coffee, and costly suppers are in more general request, and the wanton extravagance exhibited within its vortex is enough to strike the uninitiated and the moralist with the most appalling sentiments of horror and dismay. Yet within this saloon (see plate) did we enter, at four o'clock in the morning, to view the depravity of human nature, and watch the operation of licentiousness upon the young and thoughtless.
A Newgate turnkey would, no doubt, recognize many old acquaintances; in the special hope of which, Bob Transit has faithfully delineated some of the most conspicuous characters, as they appeared on that occasion, lending their hearty assistance in the general scene of maddening uproar. It was past five o'clock in the morning ere we quitted this den of dreadful depravity, heartily tired out by the night's adventures, yet solacing ourselves with the reflection that we had seen much and suffered little either in respect to our purses or our persons.
VISIT TO WESTMINSTER HALL.
Worthies thereof--Legal Sketches of the Long Robe--The Maiden Brief--An awkward Recognition--Visit to Banco Regis-- Surrey Collegians giving a Lift to a Limb of the Late, "Thus far shalt thou go and no farther"--Park Rangers--Visit to the Life Academy--R--A--ys of Genius reflecting on the true line of Beauty--Arrival of Bernard Black-mantle in London--Reads his Play and Farce in the Green Rooms of the two Theatres Royal, Drury Lane and Covent Garden--Sketches of Theatrical Character--The City Ball at the Mansion House-- The Squeeze--Civic Characters--Return to Alma Mater--The Wind-up--Term ends.
~355~~A note from Dick Gradus invited Echo and myself to hear his opening speech in Westminster Hall. "I have received my maiden brief" writes the young counsel, "and shall be happy if you will be present at my first attempt, when, like a true amicus curio, the presence of an old school-fellow will inspire confidence, and point out what may strike him as defective in my style." "We will all go," said Transit; "Echo will be amused by the oratory of the bar, and I shall employ my pencil to advantage in taking notes, not of short hand, but of long heads, and still longer faces." The confusion created by the building of the new courts at Westminster has literally choked up, for a time, that noble specimen of Gothic architecture--the ancient hall; the King's Bench sittings are therefore temporarily held in the Sessions House, a small, but ~356~~rather compact octangular building, on the right of Parliament-street. Hither we hasted, at nine o'clock in the morning, to take a view of the court, judges, and counsel, and congratulate our friend Gradus on his entree. It has been said, that the only profession in this country where talents can insure success, is the law. If by this is meant talents of a popular kind, the power of giving effect to comprehensive views of justice and the bonds of society, a command of language, and a faculty of bringing to bear upon one point all the resources of intellect and knowledge, they are mistaken; they speak from former experience, and not from present observation: they are thinking of the days of a Mingay or an Erskine, not of those of a Marryat or a Scarlett; of the time when juries were wrought upon by the united influence of zeal and talent, not when they are governed by precedents and practice; when men were allowed to feel a little, as well as think a great deal; when the now common phrase of possessing the ear of the court was not understood, and the tactician and the bully were unknown to the bar. It is asserted, that one-fifth of the causes that come before our courts are decided upon mere matters of form, without the slightest reference to their merits. Every student for the bar must now place himself under some special pleader, and go through all the complicated drudgery of the office of one of these underlings, before he can hope to fill a higher walk; general principles, and enlarged notions of law and justice, are smothered in laborious and absurd technicalities; the enervated mind becomes shackled, until the natural vigour of the intellect is so reduced, as to make its bondage cease to seem burdensome. Dick, with a confidence in his own powers, has avoided this degrading preparation; it is only two months since he was first called to the bar, and with a knowledge of his father's influence and property added to his own talents, he hopes to make a ~357~~stand in court, previous to his being transplanted to the Commons House of Parliament.
A tolerable correct estimate may be formed of the popularity of the judges, by observing the varied bearings of respect evinced towards them upon their entrance into court. Mr. Justice Best came first, bending nearly double under a painful infirmity, and was received by a cold and ceremonious rising of the bar. To him succeeded his brother Holroyd, a learned but not a very brilliant lawyer, and another partial acknowledgment of the counsel was observable. Then entered the Chief Justice, Sir Charles Abbot, with more of dignity in his carriage than either of the preceding, and a countenance finely expressive of serenity and comprehensive faculties: his welcome was of a more general, and, I may add, genial nature; for his judicial virtues have much endeared him to the profession and the public. But the universal acknowledgment of the bar, the jury, and the reporters for the public press, who generally occupy the students' box, was reserved for Mr. Justice Bayley; upon whose entrance, all in court appeared to rise with one accord to pay a tribute of respect to this very distinguished, just, and learned man. All this might have been accidental, you will say; but it was in such strict accordance with my own feelings and popular opinion besides, that, however invidious it may appear, I cannot resist the placing it upon record. To return to the Chief Justice: he is considered a man of strong and piercing intellect, penetrating at once to the bottom of a cause, when others, even the counsel, are very often only upon the surface; his intuition in this respect is proverbial, and hence much of the valuable time of the court is saved upon preliminary or immaterial points. Added to which, he is an excellent lawyer, shrewd, clear, and forcible in his delivery, very firm in his judgments, and mild in his ~358~~language; with a patient command of temper, and continued appearance of good-humour, that adds much to his dignity, and increases public veneration. That he has been the architect of his own elevation is much to be applauded; and it is equally honourable to the state to acknowledge, that he is more indebted to his great talents and his legal knowledge for his present situation than to any personal influence of great interest{1}: of him it may be justly said, he hath
"A piercing wit quite void of ostentation; high-erected thoughts seated in a heart of courtesy; an eloquence as sweet in the uttering, as slow to come to the uttering."
Sir P. Sidney's Arcadia.
It was Dick Gradus's good-luck to be opposed to Scarlett in a case of libel, where the latter was for the defendant. "Of all men else at the bar, I know of no one whom I so much wish to encounter," said Gradus. His irritable temper, negligence in reading his briefs, and consummate ignorance{2} in any thing beyond term-reports, renders him an easy conquest to a quiet, learned, and comprehensive mind. The two former are qualifications Gradus possesses in a very superior degree, and he proved he was in no wise deficient in his opponent's great requisite; I suppose we must call it confidence; but another phrase would be more significant. Scarlett is a great tactician; and in defending his client, never hesitates to take
1 We hear that an allusion in page 359 of this work has been supposed to relate to a near relative of the respected Chief Justice: if it bears any similitude, it is the effect of accident alone; the portrait being drawn for another and a very different person, as the reference to altitude might have shown.
2 See the castigation he received in the Courier of Friday. Dec. 10, 1824, for his total ignorance of the common terms of art.
"----that trick of courts to wear Silk at the cost of flattery."
James Shirley's Poems.
~359~~what I should consider the most unfair, as they are ungentlemanly advantages. But there
"be they that use men's writings like brute beasts, to make them draw which way they list."
T. Nash's Lenten Stuff, 1599.
His great success and immense practice at the bar is more owing to the scarcity of silk-gowns{3} than the profundity of his talents. The perpetual simper that plays upon his ruby countenance, when finessing with a jury, has, no doubt, its artful effect; although it is as foreign to the true feelings of the man, as the malicious grin of the malignant satirist would be to generosity and true genius. Of his oratory, the aureum flumen orationis is certainly not his; and, if he begins a sentence well, he seldom arrives at the conclusion on the same level: he is always most happy in a reply, when he can trick his adversary by making an abusive speech, and calling no witnesses to prove his assertions. Our friend Gradus obtained a verdict, and after it the congratulations of the court and bar, with whom Scarlett is, from his superciliousness, no great favourite. Owen Feltham, in his Resolves, well says, that "arrogance is a weed that ever grows upon a dunghill."{4} The contrast between Scarlett and his great opponent, Mr. Serjeant Copley,
3 Generally speaking, the management of two-thirds of the business of the court is entrusted to four silk-gowns, and about twice as many worsted robes behind the bar.
4 An Impromptu written in the Court of King's Bench during a recent trial for libel.
The Learned Pig.
"My learned Friend," the showman cries; The pig assents--the showman lies; So counsel oft address a brother In flattering lie to one another; Calling their friend some legal varlet, Who lies, and bullies, till he's Scarlett.
~360~~the present Attorney-General, is a strong proof of the truth of this quotation. To a systematic and profound knowledge of the law, this gentleman unites a mind richly stored with all the advantages of a liberal education and extensive reading, not merely confined to the dry pursuit in which he is engaged, but branching forth into the most luxuriant and highly-cultivated fields of science and the arts. On this account, he shines with peculiar brightness at Nisi Prius; and is as much above the former in the powers of his mind and splendour of his oratory, as he is superior to the presumptuousness of Scarlett's vulgarity. Mr. Marryat is said to possess an excellent knowledge of the heavy business of his profession; and it must be admitted, that his full, round, heavy-looking countenance, and still heavier attempts at wit and humour, admirably suit the man to his peculiar manner: after all, he is a most persevering counsel; not deficient in good sense, and always distinguished by great zeal for his client's interests. Mr. Gurney is a steady, pains-taking advocate, considered by the profession as a tolerable criminal lawyer, but never affecting any very learned arguments in affairs of principles or precedents. In addressing a jury, he is both perspicuous and convincing; but far too candid and gentlemanly in his practice to contend with the trickery of Scarlett.--Mr. Common-Serjeant Denman is a man fitted by nature for the law. I never saw a more judicial-looking countenance in my life; there is a sedate gravity about it, both "stern and mild," firm without fierceness, and severe without austerity:--he appears thoughtful, penetrating, and serene, yet not by any means devoid of feeling and expression:--deeply read in the learning of his profession, he is yet much better than a mere lawyer; for his speeches and manners must convince his hearers that he is an accomplished gentleman. Of Brougham, it may be justly said,~361~~
----" his delights Are dolphin-like; they show his back above The elements he lives in:"
his voice, manner, and personal appearance, are not the happiest; but the gigantic powers of his mind, and the energy of his unconquerable spirit, rise superior to these defects. His style of speaking is marked by a nervous freedom of the most convincing character; he aims little at refinement, and labours more to make himself intelligible than elegant. In zeal for his clients, no man is more indefatigable; and he always appears to dart forward with an undaunted resolution to overcome and accomplish. But here I must stop sketching characters, and refer you to a very able representation of the court, the bar, and jury, by our friend Transit, in which are accurate likenesses of all I have previously named, and also of the following worthies, Messrs. Raine, Pollock, Ashworth, Courtney, Starkie, Williams, Parke, Rotch, Piatt, Patterson, Raper, Browne, Lawrence, and Whately, to which are added some whom--
"God forbid me if I slander them with the title of learned, for generally they are not."--Nash's Lenten Stuff, 1599.
We were just clearing the steps of the court house, when a jolly-looking, knowing sort of fellow, begged permission to speak to Echo. A crimson flush o'erspread Tom's countenance in a moment. Transit, who was down, as he phrased it, tipped me a wink; and although I had never before seen either of the professional brothers-in-law, John Doe and Richard Roe, the smart jockey-boots, short stick, sturdy appearance, and taking manners of the worthy, convinced me at once, that our new acquaintance was one or other of those well-known personages: to be brief, poor Tom was arrested for a large sum by a Bond-street hotel-keeper, who had trusted him somewhat too long.
~362~~Arrangement by bail was impossible: this was a proceeding on a judgment; and with as little ceremony, and as much sang froid as he would have entered a theatre, poor Tom was placed inside a hackney coach, accompanied by the aforesaid personage and his man, and drove off in apparent good spirits for the King's Bench Prison, where Transit and myself promised to attend him on the morrow, employing the mean time in attempting to free him from durance vile. It was about twelve at noon of the next day, when Transit and myself, accompanied by Tom's creditor and his solicitor, traversed over Waterloo Bridge, and bent our steps towards the abode of our incarcerated friend.
"The winds of March, with many a sudden gust, About Saint George's Fields had raised the dust; And stirr'd the massive bars that stand beneath The spikes, that wags call Justice Abbot's teeth."
The first glimpse of the Obelisk convinced us we had entered the confines of Abbot's Park, as the rules are generally termed, for here Bob recognised two or three among the sauntering rangers, whose habiliments bore evidence of their once fashionable notoriety;
"And still they seem'd, though shorn of many a ray, Not less than some arch dandy in decay."
"A very pretty bit of true life," said Bob; and out came the sketch book to note them down, which, as we loitered forward, was effected in his usual rapid manner, portraying one or two well-known characters; but for their cognomens, misfortune claims exemption:--to them we say,
"Thou seest thou neither art mark'd out or named, And therefore only to thyself art shamed." J. Withers's Abuses strict and whipt.
~363~~
To be brief, we found Echo, by the aid of the crier, safely tiled in at ten in twelve, happy to all appearance, and perfectly domiciled, with two other equally fresh associates. The creditor and his solicitor chose to wait the issue of our proposition in the lobby; a precaution, as I afterwards found, to be essentially necessary to their own safety; for,
"He whom just laws imprison still is free Beyond the proudest slaves of tyranny."
Although I must confess the exhibition we had of freedom in Banco Regis was rather a rough specimen; a poor little limb of the law, who had formerly been a leg himself, had, like other great lawyers, ratted, and commenced a furious warfare upon some old cronies, for divers penalties and perjuries, arising out of Greek prosecutions: too eager to draw the blunt, he had been inveigled into the interior of the prison, and there, after undergoing a most delightful pumping upon, ~364~~was rough-dried by being tossed in a blanket (see plate).
This entertainment we had the honour of witnessing from Echo's room window; and unless the Marshal and his officers had interfered, I know not what might have been the result. A very few words sufficed to convince Tom of the necessity of yielding to his creditor's wishes. A letter of licence was immediately produced and signed, and the gay-hearted Echo left once more at liberty to wing his flight wherever his fancy might direct. On our road home, it was no trifling amusement to hear him relate
"The customs of the place, The manners of its mingled populace, The lavish waste, the riot, and excess, Neighbour'd by famine, and the worst distress; The decent few, that keep their own respect, And the contagion of the place reject; The many, who, when once the lobby's pass'd, Away for ever all decorum cast, And think the walls too solid and too high, To let the world behold their infamy."
Ever on the alert for novelty, we hopped into and dined at the Coal Hole Tavern in the Strand, certainly one of the best and cheapest ordinaries in London, and the society not of the meanest. Rhodes himself is a punster and a poet, sings a good song, and sells the best of wine; and what renders mine host more estimable, is the superior manners of the man. Here was congregated together a mixed, but truly merry company, composed of actors, authors, reporters, clerks in public departments, and half-pay officers, full of whim, wit, and eccentricity, which, when the mantling bowl had circulated, did often "set the table in a roar." In the evening, Transit proposed to us a visit to the Life Academy, Somerset House, where he was an admitted student; but on trying the experiment, was not able to effect our introduction: you must therefore be content with ~365~~his sketch of the true sublime, in which he has contrived to introduce the portraits of several well-known academicians (see plate).
Thus far Horatio Heartly had written, when the unexpected appearance of Bernard Blackmantle in London cut short the thread of his narrative. "Where now, mad-cap?" said the sincere friend of his heart: "what unaccountable circumstance can have brought you to the village in term and out of vacation?" "A very uncommon affair, indeed, for a young author, I assure you: I have had the good fortune to receive a notice from the managers of the two Theatres Royal, that my play is accepted at Covent Garden, and my farce at Drury Lane, and am come up post-haste to read them in the green rooms to-morrow, and take the town by storm before the end of the next month." "It is a dangerous experiment," said Horatio. "I know it," replied the fearless Bernard; "but he who fears danger will never march on to fortune or to victory. I am sure I have a sincere friend in Charles Kemble, if managerial influence can ensure the success of my play; and I have cast my farce so strong, that even with all Elliston's mismanagement, it cannot well fail of making a hit. Nil desperandum is my motto; so a truce with your friendly forebodings of doubts, and fears, and critics' scratches; for I am determined 'to seek the bubble reputation even in the cannon's mouth.'" Thus ended the colloquy, and on the morning of the morrow Bernard was introduced, in due form, to the dramatis personae of the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden (see plate).
There is as much difference between the rival companies of the two patent theatres as there is between the habits and conduct of the managers: in Covent Garden, the gentlemanly manners of Charles Kemble, and his amiable desire to make all happy around him, has imparted something of a kindred feeling to the ~366~~performers; and hence, assisted by the friendly ancient Fawcett, the whole of the establishment has all the united family feeling of a little commonwealth, struggling to secure its independence and popularity. Here Bernard's reception was every thing a young author could wish: kind attention from the company, and considerative hints for the improvement of his play, accompanied with the good wishes of all for its success, left an impression of gratitude upon the mind of the young author, that gave fresh inspiration to his talents, and increased his confidence in his own abilities. At Drury Lane the case was far otherwise; and the want of that friendly attention which distinguished the rival company proved very embarrassing to the early buddings of dramatic genius. Perhaps a slight sketch of the scene might not prove uninstructive to young authors, or fail in its intended effect upon old actors. Reader, imagine Bernard Blackmantle, an enthusiastic and eccentric child of Genius, seated at the green-room table, reading his musical farce to the surrounding company, and then judge what must be the effect of the following little scene.
PROGRAMME.
Bernard Blackmantle reading; Mr. Elliston speaking to Spring, the box-office keeper; and Mr. Winston in a passion, at the door, with the master carpenter; Mr. Knight favouring the Author with a few new ideas; and the whole company engaged in the most amusing way, making side speeches to one another (see plate).
DOWTON. 'Gad, renounce me--little valorous--d----d annoying, (looking at his watch)--these long rehearsals always spoil my Vauxhall dinner--More hints to the Author--better keep them for his next piece.
~367~~MUNDEN (sputtering). My wigs and eyes--Dowton's a better part than mine; I'll have a fit of the gout, on purpose to get out of it--that's what I will.
KNIGHT (to the Author). My dear boy, it strikes me that it might be much improved. (Aside) Got an idea; but can't let him have it for nothing.
HARLEY (to Elliston). If this piece succeeds, it can't be played every night--let Fitz. understudy it--don't breakfast on beef-steaks, now. If you wish to enjoy health--live at Pimlico--take a run in the parks--and read Abernethy on constitutional origin.
TERRY (to Mrs. Orger). It's a remarkable thing that the manager should allow these d----d interruptions. If it was my piece, I would not suffer it--that's my opinion.
WALLACE (to himself). What a little discontented mortal that is!--it's the best part in the piece, and he wishes it made still better.
ELLISTON (awakening). Silence there, gentlemen, or it will be impossible to settle this important point--and my property will, in consequence, be much deteriorated. (Enter Boy with brandy and water.) Proceed, sir--(to Author, after a sip)--Very spirited indeed.
Enter Sam. Spring, touching his hat.
SPRING. Underline a special desire, sir, next week? Elliston. No, Sam., I fear our special desires are nearly threadbare.
Prompter's boy calling in at the door. Mr. Octavius Clarke would be glad to speak with Mr. Elliston.
ELLISTON. He be d----d! Silence that noise between Messrs. Winston and Bunn--and turn out Waterloo Tom.
MADAME VESTRIS. My dear Elliston, do you mean to keep us here all day?
~368~~ELLISTON (whispering). I had rather keep you all night, madame.
SHERWIN (to G. Smith). I wish it may be true that one of our comedians is going to the other house; I shall then stand some chance for a little good business--at present I have only two decent parts to my back.
LISTON (as stiff as a poker). If I pass an opinion, I must have an increase of salary; I never unbend on these occasions.
MRS. ORGER (to the author). This part is not so good as Sally Mags. I must take my friend's opinion in the city.
MISS STEPHENS (laughing). I shall only sing one stanza of this ballad--it's too sentimental.
MISS SMITHSON (aside, but loud enough for the manager to hear). Ton my honour, Mr. Elliston never casts me any thing but the sentimental dolls and la la ladies.
G-- SMITH (in a full bass voice). Nor me any thing but the rough cottagers and banditti men; but, never mind, my bass solo will do the trick.
GATTIE (yawning). I wish it was twelve o'clock, for I'm half asleep, and I've made a vow never to take snuff before twelve; if you don't believe me, ask Mrs. G. After the hit I made in Monsieur Tonson, it's d--d hard they don't write more Frenchmen.
MADAME VESTRIS. Mr. Author, can't you make this a breeches part?--I shall be all abroad in petticoats.
BERNARD BLACKMANTLE. I should wish to be at home with Madame Vestris.
MRS. HARLOWE. Really, Mr. Author, this part of mine is a mere clod's wife--nothing like so good as Dame Ashfield. Could not you introduce a supper-scene?
At length silence is once more obtained; the author finishes his task, and retires from the Green-room ~369~~looking as blue as Megrim, and feeling as fretful as the renowned Sir Plagiary. Of the success or failure of the two productions, I shall speak in the next volume; when I propose to give the first night of a new play, with sketches of some of the critical characters who usually attend. In the evening, Transit, Echo, and Heartly enlisted me for the Lord Mayor's ball at the Mansion House--a most delightful squeeze; and, it being during Waithman's mayoralty, abounding with lots of character for my friend Bob; to whose facetious pencil, I must at present leave the scene (see plate); intending to be more particular in my civic descriptions, should I have the honour of dining with the Corporation next year in their Guildhall.
The wind-up of the term rendered it essentially necessary that I should return to Oxford with all possible expedition, as my absence at such a time, if discovered, might involve me in some unpleasant feeling with the big wigs. Hither I arrived, in due time to save a lecture, and receive an invitation to spend a few weeks in the ensuing year at Cambridge, where my kind friend Horace Eglantine has entered himself of Trinity; and by the way of inducement, has transmitted the characteristic sketch of the notorious Jemmy Gordon playing off one of his mad pranks upon the big wigs of Peter-House, (see plate) the particulars of which, will, with more propriety, come into my sketches at Cambridge.
We are here all bustle--Scouts packing up and posting off to the coach-offices with luggage--securing places for students, and afterwards clearing places for themselves--Oxford Duns on the sharp look-out for shy-ones, and pretty girls whimpering at the loss of their lovers--Dons and Big wigs promising themselves temporal pleasures, and their ladies reviling the mantua-makers for not having used sufficient expedition--some taking their last farewell of alma mater, and others sighing to behold the joyous faces of affectionate kindred and early friends. Long ~370~~bills, and still longer promises passing currently--and the High-street exhibiting a scene of general confusion, until the last coach rattles over Magdalen bridge, and Oxford tradesmen close their oaks.
Bernard Blackmantle.
TERM ENDS.
CONCLUSION OF VOLUME ONE.
VOLUME II.