¦ /i9^

GREAT MEN AT PLAY

GREAT MEN AT PLAT

BY
T. F. THISELTON DYER

TWO VOLUMES

VOL II

LONDON
REMINGTON & CO PUBLISHERS
HENRIETTA STREET COVENT GARDEN
1889
[AU Rights Reserved]

CONTENTS

CHAPTER L
PECULIARITIES.
J. P. Curran — J. S. Mill — Coleridge — Cowper — Charles Lamb
— T. Chatterton — Lord Clive — Lord Melbourne — Sir
Samuel Eomilly — Dr. Johnson — Charles Mathews —
Charles Lever — Gay — Smollett — Burns — Swift — Lord
Chancellor Bathurst — Duke of Wellington — T, Carlyle —
Samuel Foote — Lord Byron — Sir Walter Scott — Henry
Martyn — Sir Charles Barry — Jeremy Bentham — Chris
topher Smart — Robert Southey — Hon. Henry Cavendish —
Sydney Smith — Addison — John, Marquis of Granby —
Charles J. Fox — Marquis of Rockingham — Duke of Port
land — Hazlitt — Abernethy — Leech — P. Denison Maurice
— Haydon — Norman Maoleod — Thackeray — Pitt — Selwyn
— Lord Palmerston — Lord Westbury — Sir Thomas Law
rence — Lord Lyndhurst— Lord Metcalfe — Leigh Hunt —
James Brindley — Duke of Bridgewater — Duke of Cleve
land   pp. 1-34
CHAPTER IL
FAVOURITE DISHES.
Duke of Wellington — Sir Walter Scott — Southey — Words
worth — Lord St. Vincent — Earl Dudley — Dr. Johnson —
Chatterton — Thomas Hollis — Charles Lever — Leis:hHuiit
— Theodore Hook — Byron — Lord Lyndhurst — Henry
Fielding — Thackeray — Lord Northington— 01iv<=r Gold
smith — Dr. Parr — Hon. Henry Cavendish — Addison —
T. Assheton Smith — John Howard — Joseph Ritson —
Adam Ferguson — Basil Montague — Sir Charles Napier —
Gilbert Wakefield — J. J. Farquharson — Sir Tatton Sykes
— Sydney Smith — Hazlitt — J. P. Curran — Dr. Person —
Sir Joshua Reynolds — James Bruce — Tom Moore — Swift
— Lord Thurlow — Listen — Lord Eldon — Lord Stowell —
Lord Ellenborough — Baron Graham — Thomas Quin —
Charles Lamb — Lord Macaulay — Beau Nash — Charles
Macklin — Jonas Hauway — Lord John Hervey — Dean
Hook — Douglas Jerrold — Thomas Carlyle ... pp. 35-73
CHAPTER IIL
DRINKING HABITS.
Lord Bolingbroke — C. J. Fox — Dr. Johnson — William Pitt —
T. Parnell— Goldsmith — Lord Palmerston — Addison —
Sheridan — Steele — Bentley — Pope — C. Churchill — Foote
— Porson — Robert James — Dr. George Fordyce — Dr.

vi CONTENTS.
Radcliffe— Dr. Lettsom— George Stephenson— David
Hume— John Wolcot— Thomson— Quin— Lord Hermand
—Lord Camden— Dr. Maginn— Lord Northington— Lord
Thurlow— Lord Stowell— Lord Eldon -Sir William Grant
—Baron Martin— Lord Chancellor Somers— J. P. Kemble
—Keats— Burns-Theodore Hook— Thomas Moore— Sir
Walter Scott— Charies Lamb— Robert Southey— James
Hogg— David Cox — Admiral Lord St. Vincent— Sir G.
Pollock— Canon Kingsley— Earl of Shaftesbury— Charies
Darwin  pp. 74-120
CHAPTER IV.
WATER-DRINKING.
Sj'dney Smith — Richard Owen Cambridge — John Foster —
Matthew Henry — Edmund Burke— Richard Cobden — John
Bright— Warren Hastings— Sir Francis Burdett — Haydon
— Wm. Cobbett — Erasmus Darwin — General Havelock —
General Elliott— Lord Heathfield— General Sir W. F.
Williams — General Sir Richard Dacres — John Wesley —
Thomas Chatterton — Wordsworth — Bishop Warburton —
Dr. Livingstone — Samuel Morley — Dr. Pye Smith — Dr.
Guthrie — Norman Macleod — Home Tooke — Prof. Rolles-
ton — John Dalton — George Cruikshank ... pp. 121-143
CHAPTER V.
SMOKING HABITS.
Lord Lytton — Archbishop Whately — Lord Clarendon — Lord
Brougham — Lord Beaconsfield — Lord John Russell — Duke
of Bridgewater — Lord Morpeth — Duke of Devonshire —
Sir James Outram — David Cox — Captain Marryat —
Thomas Campbell — T. Moore — Fielding — Addison — Sir
Walter Scott — Charles Lamb— Dr. Parr — Dean Aldrich
— Rev. Robert Hall — Douglas Jerrold — Professor Wilson
— John Gibson Lockhart — John Dalton — Lord Byron —
Henry Fawcett ^ -Tljackeray — Edmund Kean — Charles
Dickens — Thomas Henry Buckle — Charles Kingsley —
Thomas Carlyle — Charles Darwin — Lord Westbury —
John Bright— Cowper — Shelley — Wordsworth — Keats —
Thomas Fuller — Dr. Adam Clarke — Dr Johnson pp. 144-172
CHAPTER VI.
SNDFF-TAKING.
Beau Brummell— Edward Wortley Montagu — Lord Petersham
— Lord Stanhope — Talleyrand — Dryden— Swift — Pope —
Addison— Lord Chesterfield— Dr. Johnson — Earl Buchan
— Sterne— Garrick — Duke of Bridgewater — Abernethy —
J. Home Tooke — James Watt — Sir Joshua Reynolds-
Keats — Charles Lamb — Sir Francis Chantrey— Sir Walter

CONTENTS. vii
Scott — E. Gibbon — Steele — Soame Jenyns — Robert
Burns — Charles Dickens — Wm. Anderson — Captain
Marryat — Charles Lever — Archbishop Whately — Charles
Darwin  pp. 173-191
CHAPTER VII.
PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.
John Wilkes — Oliver Goldsmith — Samuel Johnson — Lord Ash-
burton — Lord Loughborough — Lord Ellenborough — Lord
Brougham — Porson — Thackeray — Sir Walter Scott —
Admiral Lord Keppel— rLord Elgin — Duke of Wellington
—Pope — Garrick — Edmund Kean — Duke of Norfolk —
Lord Nelson — Lord John Russell — Sir Charles James
Napier — Lord Chief Justice Cockburn — Crofton Croker —
Tom Moore — Thomas Gray — Flaxman — Douglas Jerrold
— Lord North — John Metcalf — Lieutenant Holman —
Thomas Blacklock — Professor Sanderson — Isaac D'Israeli
— Alexander Davidson — Thomas Wilson — Henry Fawcett
— Edmund Malone — Lord Hatherley — Sir Robert Peel —
Lord Chesterfield — Henry Kirke White — Bishop Thirl-
wall — Walter Savage Landor — Admiral Bosoawen — Lord
Byron  pp. 192-215
CHAPTER VIIL
DEESS.
Dr. Johnson — Lord Chesterfield — Captain Gronow — Beau
Brummell — Lord Alvanley — Sir Lumley SkefSngton —
Edmund Burke — Sir Philip Francis — Earl of Chatham —
George Canning — Sir Charles Napier — Sir Walter Scott —
Duke of Wellington — Earl of Carlisle — Earl of Beacons-
field — Lord Petersham — Lord Yarmouth — Prince Regent
— Lord Clive — Henry Grattan — Thomas Campbell — Samuel
Foote — Porson — Dr. Paley — William Emerson — Thomson
— Charles Howard, Duke of Norfolk — Lord Kenyon —
Gray — De Quincey — Gibbon — Goldsmith — Mark Akenside
— James Bruce — Jeremy Bentham — Charles Lamb — Henry
Cavendish — William Battle — ^ William, Hazlitt — Lord
Hatheriey— T. Assheton Smith  pp. 216-240
CHAPTER IX.
FACULTY OF MEMORY.
Henry Fawcett — General Chatterie — Edmund Burke — Sir
James Mackintosh — Lord North — Sir Sydney Smith —
Duke of Wellington — Lord Clyde — .Lord Nelson — Dr.
Johnson — Dr. George Fordyce — Porson — Hugh Miller —
Sir Walter Scott — Lord Byron — Bishop Warburton — Dr.
Samuel Clarke — Dean Milman — Dean Milner — Abernethy
— Lord Stowell — Lord Hardwicke — Charles Mathews — Dr.

viii CONTENTS.
Priestley — Macready — James Watt — Sir William Hamil
ton—Theodore Hook — Walter Savage Landor — Henry
Crabb Robinson — John Kemble — Lord Macaulay — Prof.
Conington — George Grote — Sir George Cornewall Lewis
— Charles Darwin — Thomas Carlyle — De Quincey — Lord
Plunket  pp. 241-269
CHAPTER X.
BRILLIANT TALKERS.
Edmund Burke — Lord Holland — Sir Charles Hanbury- Williams
— William Pitt — George Canning — Lord Chesterfield —
Horace Walpole — Lord Brougham — Sheridan — Samuel
Johnson — Steele — Addison — Dr. Parr — Porson — -Jacob
Bryant — George Steevens — George Selwyn — Swift — Home
Tooke — John Wilkes — Samuel Foote — Sir Walter Scott
— Lord Stowell — Lord Eldon — Lord Lyndhurst — Lord
Chancellor Hardwicke — Thomas Moore — Dr. Maginn —
Lord Byron — Curran — George Colman — -Sir J. Mackintosh
— Sydney Smith — Douglas Jerrold — Charles Lamb —
Thomas H. Buckle — Lord Raglan — Bishop Sumner —
Thackeray — Theodore Hook — Samuel Taylor Coleridge —
Hartley Coleridge — Viscount Strangford — Lord Macaulay
— Dean Milner — Charles Reade — Archbishop Whately —
Leigh Hunt — Henry Fawcett — Norman Macleod — Carlyle
pp. 270-296
CHAPTER XL
MONEY MATTERS.
Earl of Beaconsfield— Daniel O'Connell — William Godwin —
William Pitt— C. J. Fox— Edmund Burke— Richard
Cobden — Theodore Hook — Tom Hood — Sir Walter Scott
— Oliver Goldsmith — Steele — Sheridan — Leigh Hunt — Sir
Thomas Lawrence — Edward Miall — Lord St. Vincent —
Gainsborough — Warren Hastings — Josiah Wedgwood —
Marquis of Granby — Horace Walpole — Dr, Radcliffe
pp. 297-318
CHAPTER XII.
WIT AND HUMOUR.
Sydney Smith — Wm. Pitt— Canning— E. Burke — George
Selwyn — John Wilkes — Lord Hervey — Sir C. Hanbury
Williams — Stanhope — Earl of Chesterfield — Curran—
Foote— Douglas Jerrold— Hogarth— Sir James Mackin
tosh — George Colman — Lord Ellenborough — Lord
Chelmsford— Sir T. Coleridge— Rowland Hill— Arch
bishop Whately— Tom Hood— Charles Lamb— Norman
Macleod — Dean Mansel ... ... ... pp. 319-337

CHAPTER I.
PECULIARITIES.
J. P. Curran — J. S. Mill — Coleridge — Cowper — Charles
liaxah — T. Chatterton — Lord Clive — Lord Melbourne — -
Sir Samuel Romilly — Dr. Johnson — Charles Mathews
- — CharlesLever — Gay — Smollett — Burns — Swift — Lord.
Chancellor Bathurst — Duke of Wellington — T. Carlyle
— Samuel Foote — Lord Byron — Sir Walter Scott —
Henry Martyn — Sir Charles Barry — Jeremy Bentham
— Christopher Smart — Robert Southey — Hon. Henry
Cavendish — Sydney Smith — Addison — John, Marquis
of Granby — Charles J. Fox — Marquis of Rockingham —
Duke of Portland — Hazlitt — Abernethy — Leech —
F. Denison Maurice — Haydon — Norman Macleod —
Thackeray — Pitt — Selwyn — Lord Palmerston — Lord
Westbury — Sir Thomas Lawrence — Lord Lyndhurst —
Lord Metcalfe — Leigh Hunt — James Brindley — Duke of
Bridgewater — Duke of Cleveland.
Gbeat men, from the very fact of their pre
eminence, have, at all times, aroused in the public
mind a curiosity for details about their habits, and
peculiarities when out of harness. In a variety of
cases, their biographies prove how entirely opposite
VOL. II. B

2 GREA T MEN A T PL A Y.
has been their private life to what one would
have expected, judging from their behaviour
before the world. But, as it has been often
observed, a man in his public capacity and in his
private life is two distinct beings. In the one
case he is like an actor, ever conscious of the
public gaze upon him; in the latter he assumes
his own natural individuality, untrammelled by
that conventional appearance, which the pro
minence of his position demands. Thus, many of
our leading men who have appeared bright, and
full of spirits, in their public life, have been just
the reverse in their homes.
J. P. Curran was a striking instance, for often
times, when he had " set the table in a roar " with
his gibes, merriment, and j&ashes of wit, he was
scarcely recognizable, an hour or so afterwards, as
the victim of his constitutional melancholy. At
such times it was impossible to cheer him, and,
in the solitude of the darkness, he would even
wander at midnight in his garden. It was his
misfortune also to lose his favourite little
daughter, who had been a sort of musical
prodigy. He had her buried in a small grove
adjoining his garden, and often, we are told — as
the tears chased each other down his cheeks — he
would point to his child's monument, and " wish
to be with her and at rest." This was a strange

PECULIARITIES. 3
contrast, and one which was as painful for others
to see, as for himself to bear. Perhaps, however,
after one of these distressing scenes, when he had
wept himself tearless, some trifling incident on his
return home would recall past memories and
" hurry him into the very extreme of cheerful
ness ! " " His spirits," says his biographer,* " rose,
his wit returned, the jest, and the tale, and the
anecdote, pushed each other aside in an almost
endless variety, and day dawned upon him the
happiest, the pleasantest, and the most fascinating
of companions."
At one period of his life John Stuart Millf
suffered from severe mental depression. It was
in the year 1826, when in this frame of mind,
that he put this question to himself : — " Suppose
that all your objects in life were realized, that all
the changes in institutions, and opinions, which
you are looking forward to, could be completely
effected at this very instant, would this be a
great joy and happiness to you ? " And an irre
pressible self-consciousness distinctly answered,
" No 1 " At this, he tells us, his heart sank
within him ; the whole foundation on which his
life was constructed fell down; there seemed
nothing left to live for. His life, in short, was
* "Curran and his Contemporaries," by C. Phillips, 1850,
p. 343-5.
t " Autobiography," p. 134-141.

4 GREA T MEN A T PL A Y.
what Coleridge has described in his " Dejection " :
A grief without a pang, void, dark, and drear,
A drowsy, stifled, unimpassioned grief,
Which finds no natural outlet, no relief.
In word, or sigh, or tear.
But, happily, this crisis, in his mental history, was
to pass away, and in a manner he little expected.
"I was reading, accidentally," he says, "'Mar-
montel's Memoires,' and came to the passage
which relates his father's death, the distressed
position of the family, and the sudden inspiration
by which he, then a mere boy, felt, and made
them feel that he would be everything to them. A
vivid conception of the scene and its feelings came
over me, and I was moved to tears. From this
moment my burden grew lighter. There was
once more excitement in exerting myself for my
opinions and for the public good." He adds
that, although he had several relapses, he was
never again so miserable as he had been.
His mention of Coleridge reminds us of the
poet's habitually dejected frame of mind, aggra
vated, as it was, by the pressure of severe bodily
infirmities. According to his ill-adjusted mode of
reasoning, life had no sunshine for him, how
ever great its joys for others, and all his efforts
to systematize the science of psychology in its
connection with religion, poetry, and the social life

PECULIARITIES. 5
of man, seemed hopelessly destined to failure. It
was this state of feeling, which ever grew wearied
and impatient at ill-success, that prompted him
to write those pathetic and beautiful lines on
" Melancholy," which must ever rank amongst his
sweetest effusions —
All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair,
The bees are stirring, birds upon the wing,
And winter, slumbering in the open air,
Wears on his smiling face a dream of spring.
And I, the while, the sole unbusied thing.
Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.
Yet well I ken the haunts where amaranths blow,
Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow :
Bloom, 0, ye amaranths ! bloom for whom ye may !
For me ye bloom not I glide, rich streams, away.
With lip unbrightened, wreathless brow, I stroll.
And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul ?
Work without hope draws nectar in a sieve,
And hope without an object cannot live.
The story, again, of Cowper's dejection, and
despondency, is well known. When he was
twenty-one, and paying court to his fair cousin in
Southampton Row, he was mortified at being
disfigured by an obstinate eruption which broke
out upon his face. After seeking relief in various
remedies, but in vain, he consulted a quack, who,
in clearing his skin of the humour, drove the
disease inwards. The effect produced a terrible
dejection of spirits, and, to quote his own words,

6 GREA T MEN A T PL A Y.
" Day and night I was upon the rack, lying down
in horror, and rising up in despair," a condition
which lasted a year. But, although he recovered,
his mind at intervals became so thoroughly
unhinged as to lead him to contemplate the most
desperate acts — even suicide. It was during one of
these attacks that he was watched and cared for by
Mrs. Unwin, with a constancy and affection which
it was the great business of his life to repay.
On his recovery in 1780 he began to write for
the public, " with a view of diverting his own
melancholy, and doing service to the cause of
morality," alluding to which he thus writes in a
letter to his cousin: — " Dejection of spirits, which
I suppose may have prevented many a man from
becoming an author, made me one. I find con
stant employment necessary, and therefore take
care to be constantly employed. Manual engage
ments do not engage the mind sufliciently, as I
know by experience, having tried many. I write,
therefore, generally three hours in a morning, and,
in an evening, I transcribe." But, without entering
more minutely into the poet's sufferings, we can
only sum up his life as a prey to those mysterious
workings of his mind which made him the slave of
the most agonizing, and morbid, fears. It was a
sad and chequered career, full of the same melan
cholia even to the last, for when his physician.

PECULIARITIES. 7
attending him for dropsy, asked him how he felt,
he replied : " Feel ! I feel unutterable despair."
Such despair he continued to feel so long as he
remained conscious, expiring on the 25th April,
1800, to wake up from his delusion, let us hope,
in a happier world.
Charles Lamb,* although he was frequently
merry, yet was given at times to despondency,
and ever at the back of his merriment there
reposed "a grave depth, in which rich colours, and
tender lights, were inlaid, for his jests sprang from
his sensibility, which was as open to pleasure as to
pain." This sensibility, we are further told, " if it
somewhat impaired his vigour, led him into
curious and delicate fancies, and taught him a
liking for things of the highest relish, which a
mere robust jester never tastes."
The strange fits of abstraction and gloominess
which overshadowed Ohatterton's life have long
explained that abnormal state of mind which
rendered him peculiar, and eventually ended in
that fatal resolution which robbed the world of
one who, whatever his faults, was undoubtedly a
genius. Whether his mind, according to Southey,
" brought with it into the world a taint of here
ditary insanity," is an open question, but anyhow
the peculiarities which marked his life throughout
* Memoir of, by Barry Cornwall.

8 GREA T MEN A T PL A Y.
will ever suggest the nicest of psychological
inquiries. Such cases, too, of despondency,
frequent as they have been, must ever attract our
sympathy, darkening many a life which otherwise
might have been in every way brilliant.
From early youth Lord Clive was subject to
fits of strange melancholy, which prompted him
more than once to destroy himself. His active
spirit, while occupied with Indian affairs, bore up
manfully against his constitutional misery, but,
when in an inactive situation, it "drooped and
withered like a plant in an uncongenial air."* But
to the last, it is said, his genius oftentimes flashed
through the gloom, and occasionally, after sitting
silent and torpid for hours, he would rouse himself
to the discussion of some great question, would
display in full force all the vigour of the soldier,
and the statesman, and would then sink back into
his melancholy repose. But many men, in addition
to Lord Clive, have felt the effects either of inaction,
or loss of influence.
When Lord Melbourne,t in his declining years,
realized that his political power was no longer
what it once was, he was more or less subject to
mental depression. It is true that he could still
be "versatile and charming at table, still pleasant,
* See Quarterly Review, 1840, 360.
t Memoirs of, by W. M. Torrens, 1878, ii., 378.

PECULIARITIES. 9
¦satirical, or gossiping in tete-a-tete, but, in the
lengthening intervals of solitude, the chilly gloom
¦came back, ever chillier and gloomier " —
Then all was blank, and bleak, and grey.
It was not night, it was not day.
But vacancy absorbing space,
And fixedness without a place —
A silence and a stiriess breath,
That neither was of life or death,
A sea of stagnant idleness,
Blind, boundless, mute, and motionless.
But such is the cost of all popularity. We are
further told how one who " truly and unutterably
loved him, found him in the afternoon looking
more than usually dejected. ' I am glad,' he
exclaimed, ' you are come. I have sat here
watching that timepiece, and heard it strike four
times without seeing the face of a human being,
and had it struck the fifth I feel that I could not
have borne it.' Then after a little while the solace
of gentle and wise companionship appeared to
still the aching consciousness that had almost
demented him; his equanimity returned, some
thing like cheerfulness; and, for the residue of that
day, he was content, and bright, and calm again."*
Sir Samuel Romilly' s character, when young,
was marked by a strong disposition to melan
choly, which, at one time in his early life, took the
* IUd.,Zm.

10 GREA T MEN A T PL A Y.
turn of a terrible dread and apprehension of his
father's death, which, judging from his own
words, must have been almost monomaniac r
" The idea of my father's approaching death
pursued me even in the midst of scenes which
seemed most likely to dispel such gloomy reflec
tions. I remember once accompanying him to
the theatre on a night when Garrick acted. The
play was Zara,, and it was followed by the farce
of Lethe. The inimitable powers of acting, which
were displayed by that admirable performer, in
both these pieces could not for a moment drive
from my mind the dismal idea which haunted me.
In the aged Lusignan I saw what my father
in a few years would be — tottering on the brink
of the grave — and when in the farce the old man
desires to drink the waters of Lethe that he may
forget how old he is, I thought that the same
idea must naturally present itself to my father,
that he must see as clearly as T did that his death
could not be at the distance of many years ; and
that, notwithstanding his apparent cheerfulness,
that idea must often prey upon his mind and
poison his happiness more, even, than it did mine."
Indications of the same depression, and despon
dency, were not wanting in after years. His close
application to study proved injurious to his health,
and his description of his visit to Bath, where he

' PECULIARITIES. 11
was advised to drink the waters, is painful : " I
drank too much of the water, and I found myself
in a much worse state than that in which I had
left town. Any exertion of body, or mind, pro
duced the most distressing palpitation of my
heart. My nights were sleepless, my days rest
less and agitated. My apprehensions of the
future were most gloomy. Having heard at Bath
of persons who had never recovered from the
relaxed, and nervous, habit into which an in
temperate use of the hot bath had reduced them,
I persuaded myself that such was my destination.
I imagined that my whole life (and I feared it
might be a long one) would drag on in my then
state, useless to all mankind, and burdensome to
myself; and I entertained strong apprehensions
that my disorder may end in madness."
How groundless were these feelings of melan
choly the active and important career eventually
proved, and, as we are told in his memoir, " Al
though his natural disposition was not without a
tinge of melancholy, this ceased at the moment of
his marriage, and only left that serious turn of
mind which gave weight to all his thoughts." At
the same time we cannot but trace the closing
catastrophe of his life to this tendency of morbid
melancholy, which lay dormant until rekindled
by mental strain.

12 GREA T MEN A T PL A Y.
It must not be supposed that this mental
peculiarity has been specially confined to any
one class of men, instances occurring in the lives
of those whose high intellectual attainments have
led them in the most diversified, and opposite,
pursuits. How far brain-work, and intense ap
plication, have aggravated this painful state is a
question for the psychologist to determine, added
to which might be included undue chronic excite
ment from hope of success, or fear of failure.
Johnson, whose sparkling wit, and jocose laughter,
were the life and soul of the society in which he
moved, had, nevertheless, his frequent fits of
morbid melancholy, which " darkened the bright
ness of his fancy, and gave a gloomy cast to his
whole course of thinking." Indeed, it was an
axiom of his that the pains, and miseries, of human
life outweigh its happiness and good; and,
speaking of himself, he was often heard to lament
that he inherited from his father a morbid dispo
sition both of body and mind — an oppressive
melancholy which robbed him of the common
enjoyments of life.
Charles Mathews suffered in the same way, and
Sir Walter Scott, in a letter to his daus:hter-in-
law, says of him : " It is very odd ; he is often
subject to fits of melancholy." But the world, as
is often the case, was deceived by the merry

PECULIARITIES. IS-
laugh which really at times was the veil to
conceal his hidden thoughts. Who would have-
imagined too, that Charles Lever, whose un
flagging enjoyment of life, and genial intercourse,,
with his fellow creatures, had long made him a
social attraction, would one day sink into deep
depression ? Yet it was so — a malady which was
intensified by his want of sleep.
Disappointment was the cause of much of Gay's
depression and melancholy, and although success
and popularity were permitted him, yet neither
these, nor the kindness of his friends, could relieve
his mind ; and some idea of his final wretched
condition may be gathered from a well-known
letter, written about a month before his decease,
wherein he says : " I begin to look upon myself
as one already dead, and desire, my dear Mr. Pope,
whom I love as my own soul, if you survive me,
as you certainly will, if a stone should mark the
place of my grave, see these words put upon it —
" Life is a jest, and all things show it ;
I thought so once, but now I know it."*
But, as Mr. Austin Dobson has remarked, his
depression and despondency were " probably the
result of his inactive life, and his uncertain
health." Smollett, again, was of a despondent
turn of mind ; and Burns was at times liable to
* " Memoir of Gay," xxxv.

14 GREAT MEN AT PLA Y.
fits of melancholy, as also was Swift. It was
said, too, of Lord Chancellor Bathurst that "no
one could be merry where he was," and even
the Duke of Wellington was subject now and
then to despondency. In such moments, of which
the world knew little, he was heard to say,
" There is nothing in this world worth living for."
Thus, however successful he might be in great
affairs, he, like other men, was not allowed to
pass through life without his share of trial,
one reason for his despondency, it is said, having
been that he was ill-matched in his domestic
relations. Be this as it may, it is generally
admitted that " the Duke's home, properly so
called, was never a sunny one."*
As a young man Thomas Carlyle was given to
despondency, in illustration of which we subjoin
an extract from a letter, written on December 31st,
1823 : t " The year is closing. This time eight-
and-thirty years I was a child of three weeks old,
sleeping in my mother's bosom.
" Oh ! little did my mither think.
That day she cradled me.
The lands that I should travel in,
The death I was to dee.
Another hour, and 1828 is with the years beyond
the flood. What have I done to mark the course
* Life of, by L. Gleig, I860, iv., 85.
t Life of, by J. A. Froude, i., 199.

PECULIARITIES. 15
of it ? Suffered the pangs of Tophet almost
daily ; grown sicker and sicker ; alienated by my
misery certain of my friends, and worn out from
my own mind a few remaining capabilities of
enjoyment; reduced my world a little nearer to
the condition of a bare, rugged desert, where
peace and rest for me is none. Hopeful youth,
Mr. C. — 1 Another year or two, and it will do.
Another year or two, and thou wilt wholly be —
this ca'put mortuum of thy former self ; a creature
ignorant, stupid, peevish, disappointed, broken
hearted, the veriest wretch upon the surface of the
globe. My curse seems deeper and blacker than
that of any man ; to be immured in a rotten
carcass, every avenue of which is changed into
an inlet of pain, till my intellect is obscured and
weakened, and my head and heart are alike deso
late and dark. How have I deserved this ? "
There can be no doubt, as Mr. Froude remarks,
that Carlyle suffered, and perhaps excessively,
but at the same time he was " the least patient
of the common woes of humanity. Nature had
given him a constitution of unusual strength,"
but, unfortunately, be saw his ailments at times
" through the lens of his imagination — so magni
fied as to seem to him to be something super
natural.'' A curious mixture of character was Samuel

1 6 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
Foote, for he would suddenly fall from the height
of mirth to the lowest note of " moping, musing^
melancholy." Then he would burst into a flood
of tears, exclaiming that his " follies had made himi
many enemies, and his extravagance would bring
him to a workhouse." But these seemed to be mere
momentary fits of despondency, as the first object
of ridicule which presented itself he instantly
seized, and with a spring of fancy that seemed to-
rebound in proportion as it had been compressed,
he again blazed out in all his meridian brightness.*
Among further instances of this melancholy
temperament might be mentioned Byron, to
which we find numerous allusions in his corres
pondence and journals. "People have wondered,"
he relates, " at the melancholy which runs through
my writings. Others have wondered at my per
sonal gaiety. But I recollect once, after an hour
in which I had been sincerely and particularly
gay, and rather brilliant, in company, my wife,
replying to me, when I said (upon my remarking
my high spirits) —
" ' And yet, Bell, I have been called and mis
called melancholy — you must have seen how
falsely — frequently.'
" ' No, Byron,' she answered, ' it is not so ; at
heart you are the most melancholy of mankind,
and often when apparently gayest.' "
• See Cooke's Memoirs of, ii., 8.

PECULIARITIES. 17
Sir Walter Scott, too, tells us that " the flashes
of mirth, gaiety, indignation, or satirical dislike
which frequently animated Lord Byron's coun
tenance might, during an evening's conversation,
be mistaken by a stranger for its habitual expres
sion, so easily and so happily was it formed for
them all ; but those who had au opportunity of
studying his features for a length of time, both of
rest and emotion, will agree with us that their
proper language was that of melancholy."
Henry Martyn, again, had his fits of gloom, and
Bishop Warburton speaks of himself to Doddridge
as being of " a melancholy habit," which, with
the distractions of life, often impelled him " to
seek refuge from the uneasiness of thought in
mild and desultory reading." But this habitual
melancholy, it has been said, resulted from the
activity of his thoughts, which often exhausted
and depressed his powers, and forced him to look
for relief in a change of pursuit.
Like most men, too, of high spirits. Sir Charles
Barry was subject to periods of depression,
" which told more on his constitution than any
amount of labour," in which respect he was not
unlike the celebrated engineer, James Watt, who,
of a melancholic temperament, was apt at times
to give way to depression.
Some men, again, have been noted for their
VOL. II. 0

18 GREAT MEN AT PLAY.
retiring and modest nature, one of these being
notably Jeremy Bentham. His bashfulness, we
are told, clung to him through life like a cold
garment, and " that there never was a man so
desirous of shunning others, unless some strong
sense of duty subdued his natural tendency to
seclusion.'' An amusing anecdote is told of Christopher
Smart, who was noted for his extreme bashful
ness : — Having undertaken to introduce his wife
to Lord Darlington, with whom he was well
acquainted, he had no sooner mentioned her
name to his lordship than he suddenly retired, as
if stricken with pain, from the room, and from the
house, leaving her to follow overwhelmed with
confusion. Robert Southey, in addition to his reserved
manner and acutely sensitive mind, had a consti
tutional bashfulness, which, added to his retired
life and the nature of his pursuits, prevented
him from knowing anything of the persons among
whom he lived. This, occasionally, he regretted,
and, after slightly returning the salutation of some
passer-by, he would again mechanically lift his
cap as he heard some well-known name in reply
to his inquiries, and look back with regret that
the greeting had not been more cordial.*
* Life and Correspondence of, 1850, vi., 13

PECULIARITIES. 19
But perhaps one of the most extraordinary
cases of shyness, and which virtually bordered on
disease, was that of the Hon. Henry Cavendish.
When looked at, or even addressed, by a stranger
he would dart away as if hurt, and even when
friends were present, any attempt to draw him into
conversation would generally fail. According to
Dr. WoUaston, the best way of talking to him was
" never to look at him, but to talk as if it were into
a vacancy," and by this means one might " set him
going." At the service of Sir Joseph Banks he
would stand for a long time on the landing afraid to
face the company. On one occasion he was
introduced to an Austrian, who complimented
him by saying that his chief reason in visiting
London was to see, and converse with, one of the
greatest ornaments of the age, and one of the
most illustrious philosophers. Cavendish, how
ever, stood with his eyes cast down, perfectly
silent, betraying every mark of distress and con
fusion. At length, spying an opening in the
circle, he darted through it, and with all speed
escaped to his carriage, and drove home.
But his shyness was more distressing still when
women were concerned, and even his housekeeper
had to receive his orders by notes deposited on the
hall table, and, should one of his female servants
accidentally cross his path, she was instantly dis-

20 GREAT MEN AT PLAY.
missed. That he was not completely, however,
destitute of feeling towards the fair sex was proved
by his rescuing a lady one day when pursued by
a mad cow. But happily, for their peace of mind,
few men have been the unfortunate victims of
such an eccentric peculiarity.
Sydney Smith, who owned to having been shy,
has left the following anecdote. When conversing
with a friend on one occasion, he remarked —
" I see you will not believe it ; but I was once
very shy."
" Were you indeed, Mr. Smith ? How did
you cure yourself?"
" Why, it was not very long before I made two
very useful discoveries ; first, that all mankind
were not solely employed in observing me (a
belief that all young people have) ; and next, that
shamming was of no use ; that the world was
very clear-sighted, and soon estimated a man at
his right value. This cured me."
On another occasion, noticing a young lady
crumbling her bread, he said —
" I see you are afraid of me, you crumble your
bread. It is a great proof of shyness to crumble
bread at dinner. I do it when I sit by the Bishop
of London, and with both hands when I sit by the
Archbishop." Addison was excessively modest, and this,

PECULIARITIES. 21
¦coupled with a peculiar timidity, prevented him
from exhibiting his talents to the best advantage.
Brilliant as his conversational powers were, they
were rarely displayed to crowds or to strangers.
As soon as he entered a large company, as soon as
be saw an unknown face, his lips were sealed, and
his manner became constrained. Consequently
those who only met him in public would have
scarcely realized that he was the same man who
had often kept his friends listening, and laughing,
round the table from the time when the play
ended till the clock of St. Paul's, in Covent
•Garden, struck four. It has been suggested,
however, that to the very timidity, which his
friends lamented, Addison owed much of his
popularity, for it averted that envy which would
otherwise have been excited by fame so splendid,
and by so rapid an elevation.* When once he
forgot himself, and was thoroughly master of his
feelings, it has been generally acknowledged that
his conversation was superior even to his writings,
but of this we have spoken elsewhere.
A man whose virtues were once the household
words on the lips of every Englishman was John,
Marquis of Granby, his head having been the
¦distinguishing sign of half the taverns in the
kingdom. Horace Walpole, who has left us an
* See Edinburgh Review, Ixxxviii., 223-4.

22 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
interesting sketch of his peculiarities, says that
" his courage and tenderness were never dis
united. He was dauntless on every occasion, but,
when it was necessary to surmount his bashful
ness, his nerves trembled bke a woman's. When
it was requisite that he should speak in public, his
modesty was incapable of ostentation. His rank,
his services, and the idolatry of the people could
inspire him with no pride — a sensation his nature
knew not." As for his personal characteristics,
it is not surprising, therefore, that he was the
object of popular favour.
Although Charles James Fox was fond of
popularity, and public favour, yet his modesty,
curious to say, was almost excessive. When
the entire audience of the first theatre in Paris
rose to do him honour, he shrank, we are told,*
from acknowledging the compliment with the
diffidence of a girl. Rogers, in his " Recollec
tions," tells us that he was very shy, and disliked
being stared at, and adds : " Windham and I
accompanied him one night to Yauxhall, when he
was much amazed by being followed about as a
spectacle from place to place. On such occasions
he was not only shy, but gauche." Once more,.
Madame de Recamier, the greatest beauty of her
* " The Opposition under George the Third," W. F. Rae,.
443.

PECULIARITIES. 23
day, had much difficulty in persuading him to
take a drive with her in order that the Parisians
might see the distinguished Englishman who
divided with her the admiration of the hour.
The Marquis of Rockingham, who was Prime
Minister at the commencement of George III.'s
reign, was noted for his timid, and embarrassed,
manner, which he was unable to shake off when
addressing Parliament. Even after he had
become Prime Minister, for the second time, he
never rose to speak in the House of Lords with
out a feeling of nervous distress. Thus, on one
occasion, the King wrote to him in allusion to his
nervous modesty : " I am much pleased that the
Opposition has forced you to hear your own voice,
which, I hope, will encourage you to stand forth
in other debates."
At another time Lord Gower is said to have
asked Lord Sandwich, " How could he worry the
poor dumb thing so," while the timid Premier was
still wincing under the raillery of the latter noble
man.* The late Duke of Portland carried his shyness
to such an extent that in his later years he would
scarcely see anyone except a few of his old
domestics. His subterranean buildings at Wel-
beck Abbey are proverbial, being of their kind,
* Jesse's " Celebrated Etonians," ii., 224.

24 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
perhaps, the most costly buildings in the country.
In order to shelter himself from the sight of any
one, who might happen to pass through the park,
he hid himself under a large umbrella which he
always carried with him for the purpose. At his
town residence, in Cavendish Square, he had the
wall at the back raised to such a height that it
absolutely precluded his neighbours from over
looking either himself, or his mansion.
One marked feature of Hazlitt's character was
his painful bashfulness when in company with
persons with whom he was not familiar. But,
when he became entirely at his ease, and entered
on a favourite topic, no conversation was ever
more charming or delightful. At the same time
it must be acknowledged that this peculiarity
was made at variance with the rest of his con
duct. Again, Abernethy, the eminent surgeon of the
lasft century, was noted for his peculiar diffidence
and unconquerable shyness when about to open
his lectures. Oftentimes, before commencing, he
would leave the theatre for a time to collect him
self sufficiently to begin his discourse. On these
occasions, too, a tumult of applause seemed only
to increase the difficulty; but, when once the
lecture had begun, he displayed no greater
evidence of embarrassment-. There was no sign

PECULIARITIES. 2 5
of this modesty in the course of his practice,
throughout which he never hesitated to show
at all times an intrepid independence, utterly
heedless as to whether he gave offence thereby
or not. One recorded proof of this was his
refusing to attend George lY. until he had de
livered his lecture at the hospital, an act which
forfeited him his royal appointment.
On another occasion he caused great offence
by refusing to see a certain Peer out of his turn.
On the latter entering his consulting-room he
indignantly asked Abernethy if he knew who he
was, whereupon Abernethy, it is said, replied —
" I, sir, am John Abernethy, surgeon, and, if
you wish to consult me, I am now ready to hear
-what you have to say in your turn."
It is curious that a man of this stamp should
have known the meaning of modesty, much less
felt its painful feeling.
Leech, both as a man and an artist, was
singularly modest, while Sir Gilbert Scott, in
addition to his unassumingness of manner, was
eminently so. A great mind like that of
Frederick Denison Maurice was not altogether
exempt from the same peculiarity. " If visitors,"
writes his son, " called on him or were staying
with him, who differed from him in points of
opinion, his reticence in explaining, urging, or

26 GREAT MEN AT PLAY.
enforcing any opinions of his own, unless he was
almost forced to speak out, was always marked.
No doubt his shyness was partly the cause, but
much more than this, the dread of trying merely
to substitute his opinions for others."
But, passing on to some of the many other
peculiarities of our eminent men, may be men
tioned that of Haydon, who was in the habit of
sitting in a darkened room, but, considering how
strange a life his was in many ways, we cannot be
surprised at any of his eccentricities, for there
seems to " have existed from the first that dis
proportion in the structure of his mind which
tends to eventual insanity."* Further, it has
been remarked, his whole life was " a series of
delusions, follies, eccentricities, and inconsistency
of wild talents, mistaken and misapplied." Un
fortunately, too, he was inordinately vain, and
this " blinded him throughout to the quality of
his own works and the amount of influence he
could wield." t And yet, at the same time, it
must not be forgotten that, in spite of his many
peculiarities and failings, there were not wanting
certain compensating qualities in his life deserv
ing of praise. Norman Macleod, who usually
devoted the morning to hard study, carried it on
* See Edinburgh Review, xcviii., 519; Quarterly Review,
xciii., 558.
t Life of, by Tom Taylor, 1853, iii., 355.

PECULIARITIES. 27
in a room darkened so as to prevent distraction
from outside objects.
Thackeray, again, and several of our literary
men, have been acutely sensible of sound.
Babbage wrote many a letter to The Times to
denounce the jangling inharmonious sounds of
street music ; and poor Carlyle was so disturbed
even by cock -crowing that he actually had built
an iron room at the top of his house at Chelsea,
where he could shut himself up and find seclu
sion, both mentally and bodily, from the incessant
tormenting sounds which from one quarter or
another must ever, in a great city, make them
selves heard. Then, too, there was Leech, whose
smart invectives against the street organ-grinders
form some of the most laughable and clever
caricatures in by gone volumes of Funch. Indeed,.
it has been often remarked that to a highly sensi
tive mind there is, perhaps, no greater friction
than the monotonous noises of street-life.
Some men have possessed the happy peculiarity
of being able to sleep at odd moments, and thus
economize their capacity for work. Pitt could
do so whenever he had an opportunity ; and when
an attack was made by an antagonist on Lord
North, who had the same happy knack of sleeping,
a member, thinking he was dozing, exclaimed —
" The Premier is asleep."

-28 GREA T MEN A T PLAY.
" Not so," said the First Lord, " but I wish to
heaven I were."
Selwyn had the faculty of sleeping, and if he
was not dozing in the House of Commons he was
generally thought to be slumbering elsewhere.
Apropos of this habit, which often caused the
House much amusement, the following anecdote
is related : —
At the time when Burke was wearying his
hearers by those long speeches, which obtained
for him the name of the " Dinner-bell," a noble
man happened to enter the House just as Selwyn
was quitting it.
" Is the House up ? " was the inquiry.
"No," replied Selwyn, "but Burke is."
At one or other of his Clubs, " when the large
ness of the stakes for which he was gambling,"
writes Eliot Warburton,* " did not in the least
diminish his lethargy, he was almost sure to be
found engaged in all the duties of the card-table,
with closed eyes and apparently weary limbs."
Once more, in " Walpole's Letters,"! we find this
anecdote : " You will believe when I tell you that
t'other night, having lost eight hundred pounds at
hazard, he fell asleep upon the table with near
half as much before him, and slept for three hours
* " Horace Walpole and his Contemporaries," ii., 105.
t Vol. iii., 83.

PECULIARITIES. 29'
with everybody stamping the box close to his
ear." In the same way Lord Palmerston snatched
in the House of Commons an occasional nap, and,
hence, was nicknamed " the Great Sleeper."
Lord Westbury had the habit of obtaining rest
at odd moments, and, as it seemed, almost at
pleasure. When in Parliament, and not wanted
in the House, he would sit in the library reading
his briefs with an attention wholly absorbed..
Occasionally " while thus occupied he would drop
off to sleep, and after a brief interval awake, and
without apparent effort resume his work with tho
same art of diligent study.*
On the other hand, Smollett and Cowper suffered
from sleeplessness, as also did John Leech. " A.
friend of mine," remarked Erskine, one day, " was
suffering from acontinual wakefulness, and various
methods were tried to send him to sleep, but in
vain. At last his physicians resorted to an experi
ment which succeeded perfectly ; they dressed him
in a watchman's coat, put a lantern into his hand,
placed him in a sentry-box, and he was asleep in
ten minutes."
Undue sensitiveness is another trait of character
which has occasionally been conspicuous in our
great men, an anecdote illustrative of which
is related of Sir Thomas Lawrence. In the year-
* " Life of Lord Westbury," i. 140.

30 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
1828, while John Thurtell was in prison, charged
with the murder of Mr. Weare, he expressed a
wish to see him when he took his exercise in the
prison yard. This request, which was refused,
was misrepresented as an application to take a
cast of the prisoner's face, a misstatement which
found its way into the newspapers. This caused
Sir Thomas Lawrence much pain; and, on his
waiting upon George IV- at the palace to take a
sitting for the celebrated " sofa-portrait," he was
so affected and overcome that he could scarcely
proceed with his work. The king, noticing his
depression, inquired the cause, and sympathized
with him in his sensitiveness.
Another feature of the same characteristic is
that extreme and over-scrupulous courtesy, which
has been seen in many great lives. The courtesy
of Lord Lyndhurst was as marked in his behaviour
at all times, as his learning as a lawyer, and ability
as a statesman. " It probably pained him," says a
writer of his memoir in the Athenceum, " when he
was Chancellor, to be uncivil even to a Lord
Mayor, as he was obliged to be according to
custom. When a new Lord Mayor invites the
other judges to dine with him, they bow, by way
of assent, but when the same invitation is made
to the Lord Chancellor, he listens, gives no sign,
and the Mayor departs without an answer. Mr.

PECULIARITIES. 31
.Justice Graham, again, had the reputation of
being one of the most polite judges that ever
adorned the bench, of whom many anecdotes
have been recorded. To one found guilty of
burglary, for instance, he would say, " My honest
friend, you are found guilty of felony, for which
it is my painful duty," etc.
Once more, in numerous cases, our eminent
men have shown their peculiarities by marked, and
•diversified, deviations from the usual habits of
society. Charles, Lord Metcalfe was noted for
his remarkable coolness under sudden and immi
nent peril, nothing being able to disturb his self-
possession. On one occasion, when sitting after
dinner with his secretary in Jamaica, the shock of
an earthquake was felt so severely as to throw
down the decanters on the table. Amidst the
general alarm occasioned by this convulsion of
nature Metcalfe remained unmoved.
" My good fellow," he said calmly to his
secretary, " don't be alarmed; it is only an earth
quake." A remarkable characteristic of Leigh Hunt was
his coolness in danger. " I have seen him,"
writes his son, " in many situations calculated to
try the nerves, and never saw him moved by
personal fear. He had been in a carriage of
which the horses ran away, and seemed only to

32 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
enjoy the rapidity of the motion. I have seen
him threatened, more than once, by brutal and
brawny rustics, whom he instantly approached
with an animated, and convincing, remonstrance.-
I have seen him in a carriage nearly carried away
by a flooded river, his whole anxiety being centred
in one of his children, whom he thought to be more
exposed than himself." On one occasion, when ho
was in imminent danger of being run down by two
large ships that passed like vast clouds astern, the-
lanterns were relit and handed up by Leigh Hunt
with the coolness of a practised seaman.
When any extraordinary difficulty occurred to
James Brindley, writes his brother-in-law, Mr,
Henshall, " in the execution of his works, having
little or no assistance from books or the laboura
of other men, his resources lay within himself.
In order, therefore, to be quiet and uninterrupted
while he was in search of the necessary expedients,
he generally retired to his bed, and he has been
known to be there one, two, or three days, till he-
had attained the object in view. He would then
get up and execute his design without any draw
ing or model." In his note-book the words " lay
in bed" occasionally occur, as if to mark the
period, though he does not particularize the
objects of his thoughts on such occasions.*
* Smiles, " Lives of the Engineers," i., 474.

PECULIARITIES. 33
When it was necessary for the Duke of Bridge-
water to see any persons about matters of busi
ness, he preferred going to them instead of letting
them come to him, " for," said he, " if they come
to me they may stay as long as they please ; if I
go to them I stay as long as I please."
The Duke of Cleveland, who for many years
was known on the turf as Lord William Powlett,
was remarkable for his eccentric peculiarities,
one of which was his habit of pilfering. Indeed,
so ingrained was this peculiarity that the heads
of the firms honoured by the patronage of the
noble family were tired of his curious failing, and
instructed to charge in the account for anything
that his lordship might purloin. But, on one
occasion, he was not so lucky. He entered a shop,
writes Mr. Day in his " Reminiscences of the
Turf," and was astonished on leaving to be told
that a pair of slippers was missing. These, it
appears, his lordship had with much adroitness
removed from the counter into his coat pocket.
He protested that he had not the missing
articles with much anger, and the shop-keeper,
with equal wrath, demanded their return. Ulti
mately a policeman was sent for, and the slippers
found. It was not the only case of the kind. He
was a member of one of the most fashionable
clubs in London, but, as on his departure after
VOL, II. D

34 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
every visit, the half-burnt candle ends were
generally missing, suspicion at length fell on his
lordship as having a fondness for these trifles.
He was therefore watched, and being eventually
caught in the act of pocketing them, was dismissed
from membership, despite the excuses made for
his failing.
But, although many of our eminent men have
been remarkable for their peculiarities — bordering
in numerous instances on eccentricity. — few have
indulged in such a curious idiosyncrasy as that
which brought the Duke of Cleveland within the
arm of the law.

CHAPTER IL
FAVOURITE DISHES.
Duke of Wellington — ^Sir Walter Scott — Southey — Words
worth — Lord St. Vincent — Earl Dudley — Dr. Johnson —
Chatterton^ — Thomas Hollis — Charles Lever — Leigh Hunt
— Theodore Hooke — Byron — Lord Lyndhurst — Henry
Fielding — Thackeray — Lord Northington — Oliver Gold
smith — Dr. Parr — Hon. Henry Cavendish — Addison —
T. Assheton Smith — John Howard — Joseph Ritson —
Adam Ferguson — Basil Montague — Sir Charles Napier —
Gilbert Wakefield — J. J. Farquharson — Sir Tatton Sikes
— Sydney Smith — Hazlitt — J. P. Curran — Dr. Porson —
Sir Joshua Reynolds — James Bruce — Tom Moore — Swift
Lord Thurlow — Liston — Lord Eldon — Lord Stowell —
Lord Ellenborough — Baron Graham — Thomas Quin —
Charles Lamb — Lord Macaulay — Beau Nash — Charles
Macklin — Jonas Hanway — Lord John Hervey — Dean
Hook — Douglas Jerrold — Thomas Carlyle.
" To this hour," writes Carlyle, " no public
matter, with whatever serious argument, can be
settled in England till it hath been dined upon,
perhaps repeatedly dined upon," and when
Napoleon deputed the Abbe de Pradt to gain

36 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
Poland to his cause, his principal directions were,
" Tev.ex bonne table, et soignez les femmes." It
has been much the same at all times, biography
being rich in tales of this kind, and it is im
possible to say how far the destinies of the
human race have been influenced by the
amenities of gastronomy. Thus Tom Moore
despatched the Foreign Secretary and a fine
turtle on a sea-voyage, in order —
To soften the heart of a Diplomate
Who is known to dote upon verdant fat,
And to let admiring Europe see
That Calipasch and Calipee
Are the English forms of diplomacy.
One day, when staying in Paris, the Duke of
Wellington was asked to dinner by M. Oam-
bac^res, one of the most renowned gourmets of
France. The host having pressed a recherche
dish upon the Duke, asked eagerly, when his
plate was cleared, how he liked it.
" It was excellent," replied the Duke, " but,
to tell you the truth, I don't much care about
what I eat."
" Good heavens ! " exclaimed Cambaceres.
" Don't care what you eat ! Why, then, did you
come here ?"*
But the Duke's whole mode of living was
simple, and in remarkable contrast with the
* See Gleig's " History of Wellington,'' iv., 258.

FAVOURITE DISHES. 37
fashionable customs of his times. Many an
interesting anecdote has been told of the extra
vagant feasting of years gone by in which our
eminent men, from time to time, took part. The
menu, for instance, of the dinner given in May,
1835, to Lord Chesterfield, on his quitting the
office of Master of the Buckhounds, was a
notable instance. The party consisted of thirty,
the price was six guineas a-head, and the dinner
was ordered by Comte d'Orsay, who stood with
out a rival among connoisseurs in this depart
ment of art. There is a lingering tradition, too,
of a dinner at " The Albion," under the auspices
of the venerable Sir William Curtis, which cost
the party between thirty and forty pounds
a-piece. It is related, also, how the celebrated
chef of the Marquis of Abercorn refused to
accompany the Duke of Richmond to Ireland, at
a salary of four hundred pounds a year, on
hearing that there was no Italian opera at
Dublin. But, although many of the most eminent men
have been the most fanciful epicures, others, like
Wellington, have been just the reverse. Thus,
it may be remembered that Sir Walter Scott,
who, great eater as he was, liked simple fare.
According to Lockhart, his breakfast table was
always provided — in addition to the usually

38 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
plentiful delicacies of a Scotch breakfast — with
some solid article, on which he did most lusty
execution — a round of beef, a pasty such as made
Gil Bias's eyes water, or, most welcome of all, a
cold sheep's head. At dinner he ate sparingly,
the only dishes he was at all fond of, adds
Lockhart, " being the old-fashioned ones to which
he had been accustomed in the days of Saunders
Fairford." Southey was content with a simple joint
and potato, and equally plain was Words
worth's mode of living ; while Admiral Lord
St. Vincent above all things hated and despised
anything like gluttony. It is said that one
of his visitors once caused himself to be
helped three times from the sideboard by the
butler after the dish was removed from the
table — a circumstance which did not escape his
attention, for he was never asked again.
But, there must necessarily be great diversity
of opinion on this point, for the well-known Earl
Dudley was a genuine epicure, and the very
opposite of those nobles who were happy in the
enjoyment of the simplest food. According to
his ideas, " a good soup, a small turbot, a neck
of venison, duckling with green peas, or chicken
with asparagus, and an apricot tart, is a dinner
for an Emperor, when he cannot get better," a

FAVOURITE DISHES. 39
statement, in truth, with which most persons
will agree. His estimate, also, of the character
of a certain Baron of the Exchequer is note
worthy : —
"He was a good man, sir — an excellent man.
He had the best melted butter I ever tasted
in my life."
Even Dr. Johnson was much of the same
way of thinking, for " some people," as he
remarked on one occasion, " have a foolish way
of not minding, or pretending not to mind, what
they eat. For my part, I mind my belly very
studiously, and very carefully, for I look upon it
that he who does not mind his belly will hardly
mind anything else." No one relished good
eating more than Johnson, and when at table he
was totally absorbed in the business of the
moment ; his looks were rivetted to his plate, nor
would he, unless when in very high company,
say one word, or even pay the least attention to
what was said by others, till he had satisfied his
appetite. If the dishes, or the cooking, were not
always to his taste, he did not hesitate to descant
freely on his dissatisfaction ; and, one day, when
much displeased with the performances of a
nobleman's French cook, he exclaimed with some
warmth, " I'd throw such a rascal into the river,"
and then proceeded almost to cause a fit to a

40 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
lady at whose house he was to sup by adding,
" I, madam, who live at a variety of good tables,
am a much better judge of cookery than any
person who has a very tolerable cook, but lives
much at home, for his palate is gradually
adapted to the taste of his cook ; whereas, madam,
in trying by a wider range, I can more exqui
sitely judge."
According to Mrs. Piozzi his favourite dishes
were a leg of pork boiled till it dropped from the
bone, or veal pie with plums and sugar, or the
outside cut of a salt buttock of beef. He was a
great lover of fruit, often eating seven or eight
peaches before breakfast, and largely indulged
in tea, oftentimes drinking as many as thirty cups
at a sitting. Indeed, he acknowledged himself as
" a hardened and shameless tea-drinker, whose
kettle has scarcely time to cool, who with tea
amuses the evening, with tea solaces the mid
nights, and with tea welcomes the morning."
Like Johnson, Chatterton was a great tea-
drinker, usually drinking six or seven cups.
Tarrying at the table until the supply was
exhausted, he would laughingly tell his god
mother, who most frequently presided there, " I'll
stick to you to the last." When bidding farewell
to Bristol and all his old friends he told his sister
that " For all the good tea Mrs. Edkins had given

FAVOURITE DISHES. 41
bim he would, if he did well, send her as good a tea
pot and stand of silver as money could purchase."
But, in his meals, he practised an habitual self-
denial, systematically avoiding whatever tended
to impede the full play of the mental faculties.
He would content himself with bread and water
when his mother and sister indulged in the rare
luxury of a hot dinner, telling them " he had a
work on hand, and must not make himself more
stupid than God had made him."*
Thomas Hollis was another great tea-drinker,
and was somewhat eccentric in his diet, abstain
ing from spices or salt of any kind, in addition to
butter, milk, and sugar.
But, turning to good livers, Charles Lever was
certainly a gourmet, and with him it was quality
•versus quantity. To such an extent did he carry
this epicurean fancy that at one time he had a
first-rate man cook, part of whose duty it was to
daily place by the side of his plate at breakfast
(always a light meal with him) the menu for the
evening dinner, in order that he might alter,
perhaps, some plat or other more to his taste.
Leigh Hunt was essentially an epicure, and
Theodore Hook was another free liver, his very
jocose nature throwing him into the society of the
convivial of his time.
• " Chatterton," by Daniel Wilson, 1869, 217.

42 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
It has been said that Home Tooke's stomach,.
like that of the ostrich, seemed formed to dissolve
iron. According to his biographer,* he was
accustomed to swallow cucumbers, melons, and
pickled salmon, in great quantities, with impunity .-
Roast and boiled, white meats and brown, fish
either fresh or salted, pies, puddings, preserves,
apples, pears, and walnuts, seemed all to be
swallowed indiscriminately, without fear and
without danger.
Speaking of Hooke, we may mention an odd
dinner of which he partook in the West of
England. The soup was a sort of veal broth.
At the bottom of the table was a roast loin of
veal ; at the top half a calf's head. There were
four entrees — veal patties, veal callops, calf's
brains, and calf's tongue. One of the guests, who
hated veal, apparently waited for the second
course, when the fair hostess apologized — " We-
have no second course. The fact is, we killed a
calf the day before yesterday, and we are such
prudent managers that we make a point of eating
it up while it is good, and nice, and fresh, before
we begin upon anything else." This anecdote is
not unlike another of a similar character : — " At
the table of Lord Polkemmet, when the covers
were removed, the dinner was seen to consist of
* " Life of John Home Tooke," ii., 452-3.

FAVOURITE DISHES. 43
veal broth, a roast fillet of veal, veal cutlets, a
florentine (an excellent Scotch dish composed of
veal), a calf's head, calf's foot jelly. The worthy
judge, observing an expression of surprise among
his guests, broke out in explanation — ' Ou, ay,
it's a caaf. When we kill a beast, we just eat up
one side and down the tither.' "
Byron, it is true, would eat and drink im
moderately, in the most eccentric fashion, but
then, as Mr. Jeafferson has remarked, " When he
was not impairing a naturally delicate constitu
tion with protracted medicines, he ate like a
greedy schoolboy."
Rogers, in his "Table Talk," gives a well-
known but amusing anecdote of Byron's eccentric
behaviour at dinner, to meet whom he had asked
Moore and Campbell.
" When we sat down to dinner I asked Byron
if he would take soup.
" ' No, he never took soup.'
" ' Would he take some fish ? '
" ' No, he never took fish.'
" Presently I asked if he would eat some
mutton. " ' No, he never ate mutton.'
"I then asked if he would take a glass of
wine. " ' No, he never tasted wine.'

44 GREA T MEN AT PLA Y.
"It was now necessary to inquire what he did
eat and drink, and the answer was —
" ' Nothing but hard biscuits and soda water.'
" Unfortunately neither hard biscuits nor soda
water were at hand, and he dined upon potatoes
bruised down on his plate and drenched with
vinegar. "But the same night," adds Rogers, "after
leavine my house, Byron went to a club in St.
James's Street, and ate a hearty meat supper."
Lord Lyndhurst did not despise good living,
and Lord Lytton not only understood, but fully
appreciated, a dinner cooked on scientific rather
than haphazard principles.
According to Lady Wortley Montagu it would
seem that, however great his misfortunes and
hard his disappointments, Henry Fielding soon
found relief by reason of his mind ever flowing
with mirth, wit, and good humour. Thus his
" happy constitution, even when he had with
great pains half demolished it, made him forget
everything when he was before a vension pasty or
over a flask of champagne."
The Duke of Bridgewater rejected with a kind
of antipathy all poultry, veal, and such like.
designating them as " white meats," and often
wondered that everybody, like himself, did not
prefer the brown. But he forgot that in matters

FAVOURITE DISHES. 45
of diet taste differs, perhaps, more than in any
thing else connected with life.
On one occasion, on seeing a dish of oysters
that had been prepared with bread-crumbs,
Thackeray observed that " He didn't see why a
man should be a slave to his stomach," and
though unwell, he devoured the same with gusto.
Thackeray was fond of boiled mutton, and Mr.
R. H. Stoddard* relates the following little
anecdote which happened during his visit to
America : —
" One day, when we were to have a great
dinner at the club given to him, and my wife was
ill and my household disarranged, and the bell
rang, and I said to him, ' I must go and carve the
boiled mutton for the children, and take for
granted you do not care to come,' he got
up, and, with a cheery voice, said, ' I love
boiled mutton and children, too, and I will
dine with them,' and he did, and he was happy,
and the children were happy, and our appetite
for the club dinner was damaged."
With Lord Northington, on the other hand, in
his early life, a leg of mutton was the ordinary
dish more from necessity than choice. But after
he became Lord Chancellor, and Lord Lieutenant
for Hampshire, both he and his wife would often
* "Anecdote Biography," 1874, ii.

46 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
look back with pleasing recollection from the
Grange, and Grosvenor Square, to the frugality of
their early establishment near Bedford Row,
" where a leg of mutton lasted them three days —
the first day hot, the second day cold, and the
third day hashed."
But speaking of mutton, an amusing anecdote
is told of Oliver Goldsmith. Sitting one evening
at the tavern where he was accustomed to take his
supper, he called for a mutton chop, which was no
sooner placed before him than a friend, near him,
wondered how he could allow the waiter to put
such a chop on the table.
" Stinking! " said Goldsmith. "In good truth
I do not smell it."
" I never smelt anything more unpleasant in my
life," answered his friend ; " the fellow deserves
a caning for bringing you meat unfit to eat."
"In good truth, I think so too," added Goldsmith,
"but I will be less severe in my punishment."
Thereupon he called for the waiter, and insisted
that he should eat the chop, threatening to knock
him down with his cane if he did not immediately
comply. When he had eaten half the chop. Gold
smith gave him a glass of wine, thinking that it
would make the remainder of the sentence less
severe. The chop finished. Goldsmith's friend burst into

FAVOURITE DISHES. 47
:a loud fit of laughter, remarking that " the chop
was as fine a one as he had ever seen in his life,
.and that he could not think how any man could
be so great a dupe to a stroke of humour."
But Goldsmith was not to be imposed on again,
and vowed never to " give credit to what his
friend said again."
Dr. Parr, it has been said, was an epicure, but
bis tastes were not extravagant, a shoulder of
mutton being his favourite dish, with the choice
bits of which he would fill four plates ; and then,
pushing the joint unceremoniously away, observe
he had iiad enough. For cheese he had a strong
;aversion, which was only equalled by his dislike
for tea. When, one day, invited to partake of the
latter by a lady, he uttered the following delicate
compliment : " Non possum te cum vivere, nee sine
te." On being asked, too, for a theme on a tea-
¦chest, he is said to have answered, with the most
ready wit, " Tu doces ! " (thou tea-chest.)
One of the many eccentricities of the Hon.
Henry Cavendish, generally known by the un
enviable title of the " Woman-hating Cavendish,"
from his antipathy to the fair sex, was the
regularity with which he dined off a leg of mutton
— a rule which he never broke. He rarely enter
tained friends, and the few guests he received were
treated on all occasions to the same fare — a leg of

48 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
mutton. One day, four scientific friends were to-
dine with him, when his housekeeper asked him.
what he would like for dinner, whereupon Caven
dish replied —
"A leg of mutton."
" Sir," said she, " that will not be enough for
five." "Well, then, get two," was the reply.
According to popular report, Addison's marriage-
with the Countess of Warwick, was a most unhappy
match. The story runs that to drown his misery
and escape from his termagant wife he would
often slip away from Holland House to the White-
Horse Inn. Here he would heartily enjoy his
favourite dish of fillet of veal, his bottle, and
perhaps a friend. But unfortunately, the dinner
over, he contracted drinking habits, which were
only too often as discreditable to him as they were
to his friends who kept late hours with him.
Thomas Assheton Smith, who, for exactly half
a century, was a master and owner of hounds,
and, by universal acknowledgment, the foremost
rider of his day, was particularly abstemious in his
living. As his biographer, Sir John Eardley-
Wilmot, remarks,* the copious plate of hashed
mutton, which was his constant breakfast before
going out to hunt, " even to the last, hastily eaters
* " Eeminiscences," 1860, 159.

FA VOURITE DISHES. 49
while his horse was at the door, and digested in the
saddle, was a proof how well he was able to set
all rules of diet at defiance. Unlike the more
careful and no less celebrated Meynell, whose
hunting breakfast was a pound of the best veal
condensed to as much soup as would fill a small
tea-cup." In his younger days, relates an old
friend who saw a good deal of him at that period,
his usual dinner was mutton soup of the best
description, and a couple of glasses of claret. " I
once rode with him to Hungerford," he adds, " in
a bitter cold frost, and our luncheon was tea and
toast." But the same abstemiousness of living has not
been confined to any one class of great men. Thus,
John Howard, the eminent philanthropist, dis
carded everything in the shape of indulgence,
including animal food, and fermented liquors of
every kind. Tea, milk, butter, cheese, fruit and
vegetables were his greatest luxuries, but these
were enjoyed in very moderate quantities, and
with perfect indifference as to the times at which
they were taken. As his friend Dr. Aikin
observed, " he found his wants supplied in almost
every place where man existed, and was as well
provided in the posadas of Spain and caravanseras
of Turkey as in the inns, and hotels, of England
and France."
VOL. II. E

50 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
Another abstainer from animal food was Joseph
Ritson. A singular feature of his life is fully
described in his "Essay on Abstinence from
Animal Food as a Moral Duty" (1802), wherein
he thus writes : " The compiler himself, induced
to serious reflection by the perusal of Mandeville's
* Fable of the Bees,' in the year 1772, being the
19th year of his age [desisted from animal food],
and has since, to the revisal of this sheet, firmly
adhered to a milk and vegetable diet, having, at
least, never tasted during the whole course of those
thirty years a morsel of flesh, fish, or fowl, or any
thing to his knowledge prepared in, or with, those
substances, or any extract thereof, unless on one
occasion, when tempted by wet, cold and hunger, in
the south of Scotland, he ventured to eat a few
potatoes ; nothing less repugnant to his feelings
being to be had, unless it may be in eating eggs,
which, however, deprives no animal of life, though
it may prevent some from coming into the world
to be murdered, and devoured by others."
Ritson's peculiarity suggested the following
lampoon in the St. James's Chronicle (June 3,
1783) :— THE PYTHAGOREAN CRITTICK.
By wise Pythagoras taught, young R — s — n's meals
With bloody viands never are defil'd ;
For quadruped, for bird, for fish, he feels :
His board ne'er smokes with roast meat, or with boil'd.

FAVOURITE DISHES. 51
In this one instance, pious, mild, and tame,
He's surely in another a great sinner :
For man, cries R — s — n, man's alone my game !
On him I make a most delicious dinner.
To ven'son and to partridge I've no gout ;
To W— st — n Tom such dainties I resign :
Give me plump St — v — ns, and large J — hns — n, too.
And take your turkey and your savoury chine.
Adam Ferguson, writes Sir Walter Scott, on
recovering from a paralytic stroke in the sixtieth
year of his life, became a strict pythagorean in his
diet, eating nothing but vegetables, and drinking
only water or milk. Lord Cockburn, speaking of
him in the " Memorials of his Time," says : " I
never heard of his dining out, except at his rela
tion. Dr. Joseph Black's, where his son. Sir Adam
(the friend of Scott), used to remark that it was
delightful to see the two philosophers rioting
over a boiled turnip." Basil Montague, the son
of Lord Sandwich, by Miss Ray, would often
abstain from animal food, and John Wesley for
many years never tasted meat of any kind. Then
there was Sir Charles Napier, the hero of Meeanee,
who occasionally adopted a rigid vegetarian diet ;
and it may be remembered that Shelley cared far
more for fruit than the best cookery.
Gilbert Wakefield, the political economist and
theologian, who died in the year 1801, abstained
from animal food ; and Dr. George Cheyne,
having grown enormously stout — weighing, it is

52 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
said, thirty-two stone — adopted a milk and
vegetable regimen. Owing to this change of diet
he not only effected a general improvement in his
health, but actually succeeded in reducing his
size almost to a third.
Among the many amusing anecdotes told of
James John Farquharson, the noted huntsman of
the last century, may be quoted the following : —
" He was a great hon vivant, and specially fond
of woodcocks. On one occasion George the
Fourth tried a practical joke on him. Knowing
his partiality for woodcocks, he caused to be
sewed up a couple of owls with woodcocks' heads
attached to them, and fresh worms for the trail.
But one mouthful was sufficient to tell the tale."*
Rising with the lark in summer and before the
songster in winter. Sir Tatton Sikes' favourite
breakfast was an apple tart and a heavy draught
of new milk — a meal which he thoroughly enjoyed.
By his simple diet and active exercise he kept his
health, while from his hospitable door no one ever
went away hungry or thirsty.
Sydney Smith prided himself on his salads,
which were always dressed after his recipe. " I
was not aware," he one day jocularly remarked,
"how much it had contributed to my reputation,
till I met Lady  , at Bowood, who begged to
* Baily's Magazine, 1866, 116.

FAVOURITE DISHES. 53
be introduced to me, saying she had so long
wished to know me. I was, of course, highly
flattered, till she added, ' For, Mr. Smith, I have
heard so much of your recipe for salads, that I
was most anxious to obtain it from you.' Such,
and so various, are the sources of fame ! " The
following is the recipe as put into verse by Sydney
Smith : —
To make this condiment, your poet begs
The pounded yellow of two hard boil'd eggs ;
Two boil'd potatoes, pass'd through kitchen sieve.
Smoothness and softness to the salad give ;
Let onion atoms lurk within the bowl,
And, half-suspected, animate the whole.
Of mordant mustard add a single spoon,
Distrust the condiment that bites so soon ;
But deem it not, thou man of herbs, a fault,
To add a double quantity of salt ;
Four times the spoon with oil from Lucca brown.
And twice with vinegar procured from town \
And, lastly, o'er the flavoured compound toss
A magic soupfon of anchovy sauce.
Oh, green and glorious ! Oh, herbaceous treat !
'Twould tempt the dying anchorite to eat.
Back to the world he'd turn his fleeting soul,
And plunge his fingers in the salad bowl.
Serenely full, the epicure would say,
Fate cannot harm me, I have dined to-day.
Thomas Manners Sutton had a peculiar love
for salads, and in a moment of impulsive kind
ness, says Mr. Jeaffreson,* " he gave Lady
Morgan the recipe for his favourite salad — a
* " A Book about Lawyers," ii., 297.

54 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
compound of rare merit, and mysterious pro
perties." But bitterly did the old lawyer repent
his unwise munificence when he read " O'Donnell."
Warmly displeased with the political sentiments
of the novel, he ordered it to be burnt in the
servants' hall, and exclaimed previously to Lady
Manners, " I wish I had not given her the secret
of my salad."
Speaking of salads we are reminded of an
amusing anecdote told by Mr. Frith in his
" Reminiscences "* of Turner. " I have often
heard him," he says, " ridicule some of his later
works. For example, at a dinner, a salad was
offered to him, whereupon he called the attention
of his neighbour, Jones Lloyd, afterwards Lord
Overstone, to it in the following words : — ' Nice
cool green that lettuce, isn't it ? And the beet
root pretty red — not quite strong enough. And
the mixture, delicate tint of yellow that. Add
some mustard, and then you have one of my
pictures.' "
During a long term of years, William Hazlitt
abstained from every kind of liquid, except tea
and water.
According to J. G. Patmore,t "A cup of
Hazlitt's tea was a peculiar thing. I have never
* i., 131.
t " My Friends and Acquaintances," ii., 312-13.

FAVOURITE DISHES. 55
tasted anything like it. He always made it
himself, half filling the tea-pot with tea, pouring
the boiling water over it, and then almost imme
diately pouring it out, using with it a great
quantity of sugar and cream. To judge from its
occasional effect on myself, I should say that the
quantity Hazlitt drank of this tea produced
ultimately a most injurious effect upon him, and
in all probability hastened his death, which took
place from disease of the digestive organs."
His diet, too, was usually spare and plain, in
connection with which several funny anecdotes
are told. Thus one day, writes* his grand
son,* " My mother met him in Piccadilly, and,
as he looked more out of spirits than usual,
inquired if anything was the matter.
" ' Well, you know,' he answered, ' I've been
having some hot boiled beef for my dinner, Kitty
— a most uncomfortable dish.'
" Another day he had had a pheasant for dinner,
when my mother saw him, and it turned out that
he had been at a total loss to know what to order,
and so had ordered this — pheasants that day
being ten shillings a-piece in the market.
" ' Don't you think it was a good deal to give ? '
she asked.
" ' Well, I don't know but what it was, Kitty,'
* Memoirs of, by W. Carew Hazlitt, 1867, ii., 307-8.

56 GREAT MEN A T PLA Y.
he replied, opening his eyes in his way, and tucking
his chin into his shirt collar."
Then there was John Philip Curran, who, how
ever frugal his meal might be, generally found
some friend to share it with him. Thus he was
known to bring Grattan and others out to dine
with him, when he had nothing in his larder
but cold corned beef. On one occasion a
good-natured guest took to the kitchen, and
manufactured a dish of " bubble and squeak,"
which the party, assisted by plenty of good wine,
pronounced to be capital. Curran' s carelessness
of eating reminds us of an anecdote told of Dr.
Porson, who, in the selection and cooking of his
food, was easily satisfied, mutton perhaps being
his favourite meat. On one occasion, when he
went to the Bodleian to collate a manuscript. Dr.
Routh, the President of Magdalen College, who
was leaving home for the long vacation, said to
him at his departure —
"Make my house your home, Mr. Porson,
during my absence, for my servants will have
orders to be quite at your command, and to
procure you whatever you please."
On his return he asked what the Professor
had had during his stay, and on reading the
servant's account found a fowl entered in it
every day.

FAVOURITE DISHES. 57
" What," said he, " did you provide for Mr.
Porson no better than this, but oblige him to
¦dine every day on fowl ? "
" No, sir," replied the servant, " but we asked
the gentleman the first day what he would have
for dinner, and as he did not know very well what
to order, we suggested a fowl. When we went
to him about dinner any day afterwards, he
always said, ' The same as yesterday,' and this
was the only answer we could get from him."
Sir Joshua Reynolds used to relate an amusing
anecdote of a venison feast, which would imply
that he was by no means an epicure in the eyes
of those who cared for the repast as such and
nothing more. He tells us that he addressed his
conversation to one of the company who sat next
to him, but to his great surprise could not get a
single word in answer, until at last his silent
neighbour, turning to him, said, " Mr. Reynolds,
whenever you are at a venison feast, I advise
you not to speak during dinner time — as, in
endeavouring to answer your questions, I have
just swallowed a fine piece of the fat, entire,
without tasting its flavour ! "
The eminent traveller, James Bruce, was highly
touchy whenever his veracity was called into
¦question. It happened that when dining out one
•day at a friend's house one of the guests

58 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
observed " that it was impossible the natives of
Abyssinia could eat raw meat." Without making
any reply, he forthwith left the table, and before
long returned from the kitchen with a piece of raw
beefsteak, peppered and salted in the Abyssinian
fashion. Placing this in front of the guest who
had made, what he considered, an objectionable
remark, he said — ¦
" Sir, you will eat that, or fight me," but he
preferred the former alternative.
Thereupon Bruce calmly observed, " Now, sir,
you will never say again it is impossible."
Anecdotes of this kind suggest one told of Tom
Moore, whose cheerful, and witty, conversation
kept alive the social board. Being at dinner one
day, where the absence of game was commented
upon, a guest, alluding to his fascinating manner,
for he kept the table in a roar, said, " Why,
gentlemen, what better game would you wish
than ' Moore ' game, of which, I am sure you
have abundance? "
Lord Thurlow was very fanciful about his
fruit, and, in his later years, he would give way
to ludicrous irritability if inferior grapes, or faulty
peaches, were placed on his table. On one oc
casion, at Brighton, his annoyance at having
placed before him a dish of defective wall-fruit
was so great that — much to the astonishment of

FAVOURITE DISHES. 59
Horne Tooke and other guests who happened to
be present — he had the whole, of what was really
a very fine dessert, thrown out of the window
upon the Marine Parade.
Liston, the great comic actor, was fond of
tripe. One day, when walking through Leicester
Square with Mr. Miller, the theatrical bookseller,
of Bow Street, he incidentally mentioned that he
was going to have tripe for dinner.
" Tripe ! " ejaculated Miller, " beastly stuff I
How can you eat it ? "
" What, sir," replied Liston, " do you mean to
say that you don't like tripe ? "
" Hum ! " added Miller, " don't talk so loud.
People are staring at us."
"I ask you, sir," continued Liston, "do you
not like tripe?"
" For mercy's sake, hold your tongue ! " cried
Miller, who was afraid that a crowd would
collect. But Liston was not to be silenced, and with a
loud voice said —
" Do you mean to say you don't like tripe ?"
This was too much for Miller, and, leaving
Liston, he made his escape, but only to hear in
still louder accents —
" There goes the man who doesn't like tripe ! "
Then there is a characteristic tale told of Swift's

60 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
economy, which he learned from royalty. One day.
Alderman Faulkner, his printer and publisher,
was detained so late at the Deanery, correcting
some proof-sheets, that Swift made him stay and
dine. On this occasion asparagus formed one of
the vegetables to which the Dean helped his
guest, who, appreciating this delicacy, called upon
his host a second time. But Swift, pointing to
the alderman's plate, said —
" Sir, first finish what you have upon your
plate." "What, sir, eat my stalks?"
" Aye, sir ! ICing William always eats the
stalks ! "
This story was told by Faulkner to Dr. Leland,
who asked —
"And, George, what, were you blockhead
enough to obey ? "
" Yes, doctor, and if you had dined with Dean
Swift tete-a-tete, you would have been obliged
to eat your stalks."
One of the most amusing peculiarities of Lord
Eldon was his singular fondness for liver and
bacon. When asked to dinner by Sir John Leach,
Master of the Rolls, he replied —
" It will give me great pleasure to dine with
you, and since you are good enough to ask me to
¦order a dish that shall test your new chefs powers,

FAVOURITE DISHES. 61
I wish you'd tell your Frenchman to fry some
liver and bacon for me."
But Sir John Leach thinking that he was in
satire ridiculing his luxurious mode of living,
replied —
" Are you laughing at me, or my cook ? "
"At neither," answered Lord Eldon, "I was
only ordering the dish which I enjoy beyond
all other dishes."
Like his brother. Lord Stowell had his favourite
dish, and one with which his intimate friends, when
he dined with them, would treat him. It was a rich
pie, composed of beefsteaks and layers of oysters,
and certainly could boast of being homely, if not
particularly aristocratic, in its appearance. But
these were not the only eminent lawyers about
this period who had strong predilections for par
ticular dishes. Lord Ellenborough, for instance
was fond of lobster- sauce, and once gave expres
sion to his feelings when he decided, in the King's
Bench, that persons engaged in the lobster fishery
were exempt from legal liability to impressment.
Thus, his lordship inquired, with solemn pathos,
" is not the lobster-fishery a fishery, and a most
important fishery, of this kingdom, though carried
on in shallow water ? The framers of the law
well knew that the produce of the deep sea,
without the produce of the shallow water, would

€2 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
be of comparatively small value, and intended
that turbot, when placed upon our tables, should
be flanked by good lobster-sauce."*
As is well known, too, his lordship had so high
a respect for the culinary art that he sent to his
brother (then Bishop of Chester, who was about
to give a costly entertainment), a turtle, accom
panied by an experienced cook, saying in a letter
that he well knew there was nobody at the palace
who could do justice to the turtle, and he had
therefore despatched a competent person for the
occasion. Porson ate lobsters regularly three times a
week for supper, usually at a shop where the
cooked lobsters were made a specialite. When
pressure of work kept him in his study, bis
lobster suppers were regularly sent him on the
usual nights, for he used to maintain that, as
lobsters were the only things in the sea that lived
exclusively upon water, no food was so pure as
the flesh of a good lobster. Old Dr. Parr was
specially fond of lobster and shrimp sauce, and
with Swift lobster, also, was a favourite dish.
John Wesley would often carry home a prime
lobster from Billingsgate market, of which, it is
said, he was a capital judge.
Then there was the famous miser, Elwes, who
* See Jeaffreson 's " Book about Lawyers," ii. 297.

FAVOURITE DISHES. 63
dearly loved his supper of lobster. On that
well-known bout at whist which he played with
the Duke of Northumberland, and two other
well-known gamblers, — lasting for three days —
he ate nothing but lobster, confining his drink to
¦chocolate. When play was given up, and he found
himself the loser of no less than a sum than eight
hundred pounds, the only thing he could think of
as likely to soothe his feverish brain, and intense
chagrin, was " the tail of a good lobster."
Baron Graham had a similar weakness for
oysters as a preparatory whet to the appetite
before dinner, and on one occasion was heard to
remark, " Oysters taken before dinner are said
to sharpen the appetite; but I have just con
sumed half-a-barrel of fine natives, and, speaking
honestly, I am bound to say that I don't feel
quite so hungry as when I began."
Another fish-lover was Thomas Quin, the
comedian, who was passionately fond of John
Dories, which gave rise to the following lines after
¦his death : —
Alas poor Quin ! thy jests and stories
Are quite extinguished ; and what more is,
Where you're gone, there's no John Dories.
In order to eat this fish, he was in the habit of
making an annual visit to Plymouth, and even
attributed his last illness to his omitting to do so,

64 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
saying, " he considered them as salutary to his
constitution, as herrings were to a Dutchman, and
that, if he recovered, he would eat nothing else all
the days of his life.''
Quin thoroughly appreciated good living, as
may be gathered from the following amusing lines-
a propos of his seeing the body of Duke Humphrey
at St. Alban's : —
A plague on Egypt's arts, I say.
Embalm the dead ! on senseless clay
Rich wines and spices waste.
Like sturgeon or like brawn shall I,
Bound in a precious pickle, lie.
Which I shall never taste !
Let me embalm the flesh of mine.
With turtle fat, or Bordeaux "wine,
And spoil th' Egyptian trade !
Than Humphrey's Duke more happy I,
Embalm'd alive old Quin shall die —
A mummy ready made !
Whilst mentioning these curious fancies for
certain fish, it may be remembered that old
Thomas Fuller had a similar partiality for eels,
and, describing them in his " Cambridgeshire,"
thus writes : — " I know the silver eels are
generally preferred, and I could wish they loved
men, but as well as men love them, that I myself
might be comprised within the compass of that
desire. I know not whether the Italian proverb
be here worth the remembering, ' Give eels with
out wine to your enemies.' "

FAVOURITE DISHES. 65
According to an amusing tale of Westland
Marston, when one morning calling on Charles
Dillon, the manager tragedian, he found him on
his knees before the fire toasting a bloater. With
some pride he said —
" You see what I am doing. I don't know any
thing that needs more careful cooking than a
bloater. I'm first-rate at it, and, as soon as I've got
this fellow off my fork, I'll do another for you."
Of Charles Lamb's love of roast pork, we have
an amusing proof in one of his " Essays of Elia,"
entitled " A Dissertation upon Roast Pig." This
was a delicacy which, according to his taste, was
not to be surpassed; and, referring to this dish,
he used to contend, " There is no flavour com
parable to that of the crisp, tawny, well-
watched, not over-roasted crachUng, as it is well
called. The very teeth are invited to their share
of the pleasure at this banquet in overcoming the
coy, brittle resistance, with the adhesive oleagin
ous. 0, call it not fat ! but an indefinable sweet
ness growing up to it, the tender blossoming of
fat, fat cropped in the bud — taken in the short,
in the first innocence — the cream and quintessence
of the child's pig, yet pure food. The lean, no lean,
but a kind of animal manna, or, rather, fat and
lean (if it must be so), so blended and running into
each other, that both together make but one
VOL. II. r

66 GREAT MEN AT PLA Y.
ambrosian result of common substance." Then,
talking of presents, he says, " Hares, pheasants,
partridges, snipes, barn-door chickens, capons,
plovers, brawn, barrels of oysters, I dispense as
freely as I receive them. But a stop must be put
somewhere ; I make my stand upon pig." Perhaps,
too, Lamb argues, it is well that the pig is seen in
the dish, his second cradle ; for, had he been
allowed to grow up, ten to one he would have
proved ' a glutton, a sloven, an obstinate, dis
agreeable animal, wallowing in all manner of filthy
conversation. From these sins he is happily
snatched away : —
Ere sin could blight or sorrow fade,
Death came with timely care.
Southey, too, boasts himself as one —
Who, in all forms
Of pork, baked, roasted, toasted, boil'd or broil'd.
Fresh, salted, pickled, season'd, moist or dry.
Whether ham, bacon, sausage, souse, or brawn,
Leg, blade-bone, bald-rib, griskin, chine, or chop,
Prefer myself a genuine philopig.
Charles Lamb, and his eulogy on the sucking-pig,
remind us of an amusing anecdote told of George
Morland. He had promised a lady, who was out of
health, a sucking-pig. One summer's morning, as
a relative was on his way to inquire about her
health, he observed a man carrying a pig in his
arms, as if it had been a child. The piteous

FAVOURITE DISHES. ^7
squeaks of this little animal, unaccustomed to
such a ,mode of conveyance, attracted the notice
of passers-by. Struck with the laughable conduct
of the bearer of the pig, he followed him, as the
adventure promised some amusement, and the
more so as the said pig-bearer, to every dog that
barked, would set down the pig and pit him against
the dog. In this manner he paraded several streets
until he reached the house of the lady, where he
readily obtained admittance with his pig. But
great was the astonishment of the lady's relative,
when on entering the dining-room he found this
strange character with the pig under his arm, who
was introduced to him as Mr. Morland, the painter.
Burns wrote a poem in praise of a Scotch
" haggis," and Serjeant Ballantine was often heard
to say that no luxury, of after days, ever tasted
half so well as the beefsteak, and mealy potatoes,
that, in the Strand, so frequently formed the
dinner of his briefless days. Speaking of steaks,
we are reminded of Dr. George Fordyce, who for
twenty years scarcely varied his eating habits.
According to his usual custom, " he took but one
meal during the day. He would present himself
at Dolly's chop-house in the Strand at four
o'clock in the afternoon; a table was specially
reserved for him, and he commenced with a dish
of broiled fowl, or a few whitings, which he ate

68 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
leisurely, took a glass of brandy, and asked for
his steak. When the man of science had eaten
the whole of it, he took the rest of his brandy,
then drank his tankard of heavy ale, and, lastly,
sipped down his bottle of port. He then walked
leisurely to his house in Essex Street, to give his
six o'clock lecture on chemistry."
Many charming anecdotes are told of Lord
Macaulay's thoughtful hospitality, which, as Sir
George Trevelyan hints, had " about it a flavour
of pleasant peculiarity."* In his own private life
he was no epicure, for " there never was a time
when his daily wants would have not been amply
supplied by a couple of eggs with his coffee in the
morning, and a dinner such as is served at a
decent seaside lodging-house." But with his
guests it was otherwise, for, adds his biographer,
"he generally selected, by a half-conscious pre
ference, dishes of an established and, if it may be
so called, an historical reputation." Thus he would
treat his dissenting friends to a fillet of veal, which
" he maintained was the recognized Sunday dinner
in good old Nonconformist families."
His loyalty to the Church he proved by
keeping her feasts, and in good company, and
by observing her fasts, so far, that is to say,
as they could be observed by making additions
to the ordinary bill of fare. Again, if he
* " Life and Letters of Lord Macaulay," ii., 409.

FAVOURITE DISHES. 69
happened to entertain a couple of school-boys
who could construe their fourth satire of Juvenal,
he would give them a dish of mullet that " might
have passed muster on the table of an augur, or
an Emperor's freedman." Macaulay, too, liked
nothing better than a Trinity gathering, and, if
he could manage to collect a party of his own
Cambridge contemporaries, he took care that they
should have no cause to remember with regret
the Trinity butteries. Accordingly, he writes to
Mr. Ellis : " I should be much obliged to you to
lend me a bottle, or two, of that excellent audit ale
which you produced the last time that I dined
with you. You shall have in return two bottles
which still require time to make them perfect. I ask
this because our party on Tuesday will consist
exclusively of old fellows, and scholars, of Trinity,
and I should like to give them some of our own
nectar." The party in question was a complete success,
judging from his account of it : " November
9, Lord Mayor's Day, and I had a dinner as
well as the Lord Mayor; I did my best as
host. The dinner was well cooked, the audit
ale perfect. We had so much to say about auld
lang syne that great powers of conversation were
not wanted. I have been at parties of men,
celebrated for wit and eloquence, which were
much less lively."

70 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
Beau Nash, popularly nicknamed King of Bath,
from his having made this city a fashionable
resort, was of a most hospitable turn of mind, his
table having been always free to those who sought
his friendship, or wanted a dinner. After grace
was said he usually accosted the company in the
following extraordinary manner —
" Come, gentlemen, eat and welcome ; spare^
and the devil choke you."
Boiled chicken and roast mutton were his
favourite meats, and he was so fond of the small
sort of potatoes that he called them English pine
apples, and generally ate them as fruit after
dinner. His supper was generally composed of
hot roast breast of mutton and potatoes, after
partaking of which he soon retired to rest. It
was this habit that induced his friend. Dr.
Cheney, to tell him jestingly that " he behaved
like other brutes, and lay down as soon as he had
filled his belly."
"Very true," replied Nash, "and this pre
scription I had from my neighbour's cow, who
is a better physician than you, and superior judge
of plants, notwithstanding you have written so
learnedly on the vegetable diet."
Charles Macklin, whose talent as a comic
actor, and dramatist, charmed so many durincr
the last century, was somewhat pedantic in
his diet. At seventy years of age he became

FAVOURITE DISHES. 71
a milk- drinker, which he had always boiled,
and relinquished tea. He also had bread
boiled in his milk, which he sweetened with
brown sugar till it was almost a syrup. About
the year 1764 he lost all his teeth, and was
reduced in his sustenance entirely to fish (of
which he was very fond), puddings, vegetables,
and spoon meat. He had, moreover, a great
penchant for all kinds of stews, hashes, and
soups, particularly giblet soup, which he used to
have two or three times a week. He was a great
lover of eggs, custards, and jellies.* During the
last ten years of his life he had no fixed hours for
his meals. He ate when he was hungry, says his
biographer, " sometimes at two, three, or four
o'clock in the morning, and Mrs. Macklin always
got out of bed to wait on him. In fact, by her
extraordinary skill she contributed to keep the
old man alive much longer than it was in the
power of any other human being to effect."
Similarly Jonas Hanway, of umbrella notoriety,
made milk the chief part of his food for thirty
years, although at first he found it somewhat
difficult to accustom himself to this novel diet,
and William Hutton, of Birmingham, by confining
himself to milk, was cured of his gravel attacks.
Lord John Hervey, who warmly supported the
administration of Walpole, was a milk-drinker.
* Kirkman's " Memoirs of C. Macklin," 1799, ii., 440.

72 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
It appears that he suffered so much from epilepsy
that he was compelled to use emetics daily, and
to restrict himself to a certain regimen, of which
asses' milk formed a part.
Dean Hook drank milk and cream in large
quantities, and when the Bishop's cows were
being milked just outside the old city wall, which
was the boundary of the Deanery garden, the
Dean might often be seen making for the cow
house with a large tumbler in his hand, and
copious were the draughts which he stole from
the episcopal cows, a practice which was the
subject of much joking between the Deanery and
the Palace. The following humorous verses were
dashed off as a reply to a lady who had sent him
some Devonshire cream : — ¦
Dear Mrs. Adair,
You certainly are
Most kind to prepare,
And send to us here,
Such delicate fare
As the cream clouted there,
Where, in Devonshire air,
The cows can repair
To pastures so fair,
To chew and to stare.
Our milkmaids declare
That, whatever their care.
They none of them dare
Their cream to compare
With yours, rich and rare.

FAVOURITE DISHES. 73
But Oh ! Mrs. Adair,
I could not forbear
To take more than my share
Of that delicate fare ;
And you must be aware
What the penalties were.
When driven to despair
And tearing my hair,
I did bellow and blare
In a horrid nightmare.*
Douglas Jerrold's mode of living was simple,
and in accordance with his quiet habits. His
breakfast was a jug of cold new milk, some toast,
bacon, watercresses, and perhaps, in summer
time, a few strawberries found in the garden.
It may be noted that milk, either from love or
necessity, has been much in request with many of
our eminent men. With Thomas Carlyle fresh
milk was the most essential article of his diet,
and, according to Mr. Froude,! the necessary im
perfections of Scotch farm servant girls had to be
supplemented by Mrs. Carlyle herself. She baked
the bread, she dressed the dinner, or saw it
dressed ; she cleared the rooms. Among her
other accomplishments she had to learn to milk
the cows, in case the byre-women should be out of
the way."
* " Life of Walter Farquhar Hook," by W. R. W. Stephens,
ii., 470.
-j- " Thomas Carlyle, A History of the First Forty Years of
his Life," 1882, ii., 47.

CHAPTER III.
DEINKING HABITS.
Lord Bolingbroke — 0. J. Fox— Dr. Johnson — William Pitt —
T. Parnell — Goldsmith — Lord Palmerston — Addison —
Sheridan — Steele — Bentley — Pope — C. Churchill — Foote
— Porson — Robert James — Dr. George Fordyce — Dr.
Radcliffe — Dr. Lettsom — George Stephenson — David
Hume — John Wolcot — Thomson — Quin — Lord Hermand
— Lord Camden — Dr. Maginn — Lord Northington — Lord
Thurlow — Lord Stowell^Lord Eldon —Sir William Grant
— Baron Martin— Lord Chancellor Somers — J. P. Kemble
— Keats — Burns — Theodore Hook — Thomas Moore — Sir
Walter Scott— Charles Lamb — Robert Southey — James
Hogg — David Cox — Admiral Lord St. Vincent — Sir G.
Pollock — Canon Kingsley — Earl Shaftesbury — Charles
Darwin.
Perhaps no greater change has taken place in our
social life, during the present century, than in the
fashion of drinking. Happily the old days, when
the consumption of wine was carried to an un
seemly extent, by the eminent men of the time,
have passed away. Indeed, what, during the
Hanoverian period of our history, was considered

DRINKING HABITS. 75-
moderation would, nowadays, be regarded even
by wine-drinkers as immoderate. Captain Gronow,
in his amusing "Reminiscences," has given us a
capital picture of the drinking habits at the com
mencement of the present century. " Drinking
and play were more universally indulged in then
[about 1814] than at the present time, and many
even still living must remember the couple of
bottles of port, at least, which accompanied his
dinner in those days. . . . The dinner party, com
mencing at seven or eight, frequently did not break
up before one in the morning. There were then
four and even five-bottle men, and the only thing
that saved them was drinking very slowly, and
out of very small glasses. The learned head of
the law, Lord Eldon, and his brother. Lord
Stowell, used to say that they had drunk more
port than any' two men in England; indeed, the
former was rather apt to be overtaken, and to
speak occasionally somewhat thicker than natural,
after long and heavy potations.
" The late Lords Panmure, Dufferin, and Blay-
ney, wonderful to relate, were six-bottle men at
this time, and I really think that if the good society
of 1815 could appear, before their more moderate
descendants, in the state they were generally
reduced to after dinner, the modern would pro
nounce their ancestors fit for nothing but bed."

76 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
But, apart from the social evil of intemperance,
it would seem that even statesmen fell before
this " insidious and unmerciful destroyer." In
Mrs. Delany's "Correspondence" we read how
" Bolingbroke, when in office, sat up whole nights
drinking, and in the morning, having bound a
wet napkin round his forehead and his eyes, to
drive away the effects of his intemperance, he
hastened without sleep to his official business."
But this sort of life he could not continue to lead
with impunity, and Lord Stair, in a letter to
Horace Walpole, thus writes : — " Poor Harry
(Bolingbroke) is turned out from being Secretary
of State. They call him knave and traitor. I
believe all poor Harry's fault was that he could
not play his part with grave enough face. . . .
He got drunk now and then."
More than once Charles James Fox is said to
have taken his place in the House of Commons
very far from sober, and, a few months after his
first appointment to office, Walpole went to the
House to hear the young orator, and thus writes :
— " Fox's abilities are amazing at so very early a
period, especially under the circumstances of such
a dissolute life. He was just arrived from New
market, had sat up drinking all night, and had
not been in bed." But it is needless to speak
further of his intemperate habits, as they have long

DRINKING HABITS. 77
ago become proverbial. Sir George Trevelyan,
however, making allowance as far as possible for
the young statesman's failing, has given a power
ful picture of the drinking habits of the men of
his time, whose influence could not but exert an
injurious effect upon him : —
" These were the days when the Duke of Grafton,
the Premier, lived openly with Miss Nancy Parsons.
Rigby, the Paymaster of the Forces, had only one
merit — that he drank fair. He uged brandy as
the rest of the world use small beer. Lord Wey
mouth, grandson of Lord Cartaret, had more than
his grandfather's capacity for liquor, and a fair
portion of his abilities. He constantly boozed
till daylight, even when a Secretary of State."
His occasional speeches were extolled by his
admirers as preternaturally sagacious, and his
severest critics admitted him to be pithy. Wal
pole made the following hit at him : — " If I paid
nobody, and went drunk to bed every morning a^
six, I might expect to be called out of bed by two
in the afternoon to save the nation, and govern
the House of Lords, by two or three sentences as
profound and short as the proverbs of Solomon."
" They tell me, Sir John," said George the
Third to one of his favourites, " that you love a
glass of wine."
" Those who have so informed your Majesty,"

78 GREA T MEN AT PLA Y.
was the reply, "have done me great injustice.
They should have said a bottle."
Two of the friends of Philip Francis, without
any sense of having performed an exceptional
feat, finished between them a gallon and a half of
champagne and Burgundy, a debauch which in
this unheroic age it almost makes one ill to read
of. At one time of his life Dr. Johnson drank
alcoholic liquors somewhat heavily. But he was
wise in his generation, and had the honesty to
confess that he could abstain, but he could not be
moderate. Accordingly, when Hannah More
pressed him one day at Bishop Porteus's table
to take a little wine, he replied, " I cannot drink
a little, child ; therefore I never touch it. Absti
nence is as easy to me, as temperance would be
difficult." Would that many others, before and
after him, had been equally sensible !
William Pitt's love of port wine has long
become proverbial, and Rogers has left the
following interesting reminiscences of the states
man's port-drinking habits : — " During his boy
hood Pitt was very weakly, and his physician,
Addington (Lord Sidmouth's father), ordered
him to take port wine in large quantities ; the
consequence was that when he grew up he could
not do without it." Lord Granville has seen him

DRINKING HABITS. 79
swallow a bottle of port in tumblerfuls before
going to the House. This, together with his
habit of eating late suppers (indigestible cold
veal pies, etc.), helped undoubtedly to shorten his
life. Huskisson, speaking to me of Pitt, said
that his hands shook so much that, when he
helped himself to salt, he was obliged to support
the right hand with the left. Stothard, the
painter, happened to be one evening at an inn on
the Kent Road, when Pitt and Dundas put up
there on their way from Walmer. Next morning,
as they were stepping into their carriage, the
waiter said to Stothard —
" Sir, do you observe these two gentlemen ? "
"Yes," he replied, "and I know them to be
Mr. Pitt and Mr. Dundas."
"Well, sir, how much wine do you suppose
they drank last night ? "
Stothard could not guess.
" Seven bottles, sir."
Percy Fitzgerald, in his " Life of George IV.,"
giving a picture of the social manners and cus
toms prevailing about the year 1787, says: —
" Pitt, the model young minister, broke down in
the House in the following year, owing to a
debauch the night before at Lord Buckingham's,
when, in company with Dundas and the Duke of
Gordon, he took too much wine.'' But, in justice

80 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
to Pitt, it must be acknowledged that his drinking-
habits have been much exaggerated, in spite of
the idle and ill-natured epigrams, like the follow
ing, that were circulated about him : —
On folly every fool his talent tries ;
It needs some toil to imitate the wise.
Though few like Fox can speak— like Pitt can think,
Yet all like Fox can game — like Pitt can drink.
Sir Robert Walpole patronized boisterous-
hilarity in the society which he frequented, and
at the merry meetings which were the relaxations
of his bfe. Neither did he regard the decorum
which sober habits sustain, but followed, in
respect of convivial enjoyments, rather the
fashion of his own day than ours.
Poor Thomas Parnell unquestionably shortened
his life through intemperance, and Dr. Johnson,
it may be remembered, in his " Lives of the Poets,"
thus speaks of him : — " Pope represents him as
falling into intemperance of wine after Queen
Anne's death, in consequence of disappointed
ambition. That in his later life he was too much
of a lover of the bottle is not denied, but I have
heard it imputed to a cause more likely to obtain
forgiveness from mankind, the untimely death of
a darling son, or, as others tell, the loss of his
wife." The use of wine was a besetting sin of Gold-

DRINKING HABITS. 81
smith, and kept his pocket empty. Most readers
know how, when arrested by his landlady for rent,
he sent to Johnson, who, forwarding him a guinea,
promised to come immediately. But, before he
arrived. Goldsmith had actually changed the
guinea, and " had a bottle of Madeira and a
glass before him." Upon Johnson inquiring how
he proposed to pay his rent, he replied that he
had the MS. of a novel ready for the press —
" The Vicar of Wakefield." Johnson took it to
a bookseller, and selling it for sixty pounds, paid
the rent, and Goldsmith, after rowing his landlady
for her conduct, insisted on her giving him a bowl
of punch.
The following anecdote was one day related by
Lord Palmerston to a deputation of gentlemen
who waited upon him to urge the reduction of the
wine duties. Referring to the adulterations, " I
remember," said his lordship, " my grandfather.
Lord Pembroke, when he placed wine before his
guests, said : ' There, gentlemen, is my cham
pagne, my claret, etc. I am no great judge, and
I give you this on the authority of my wine mer
chant, but I can answer for my port, for I made
it myself.' I have still his receipt, which I look
on as a curiosity, but I confess J have never ven
tured to try it." The following is the receipt
which Lord Pembroke adopted : — " Eight gallons
VOL. II. G

82 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
of genuine port wine, forty gallons of cider,
brandy to fill the hogshead. Elder tops will give
it the proper roughness, and cochineal whatever
strength of colouring you please. The quantity
made should not be less than a hogshead. It
should be kept fully two years in cask, and as
long in bottle before it is used."' This receipt has,
probably, since his time been found highly useful
in supplying the cellar of many a port wine
drinker. It is generally said that Addison gave in too
much to the ordinary drinking habits of his time,
and indications in his letters, and elsewhere, con
firm this solitary imputation upon his moral pro
priety ; and yet he maintained that " temperance
and abstinence, faith and devotion, are in them
selves, perhaps, as laudable as any other virtues."
According to one report, he shortened his life by
an excessive use of " Canary wine and Barbadoes
water," but the real truth, no doubt, is that,
though not intemperate according to the standard
of the time, he sometimes resorted to stimulants
to overcome bashfulness, or depression of spirits.
It would seem that, when once he had overcome
his diffidence, the charm of his conversation was
unequalled, and then, even, his opponents could
not but admire a thousand things in him which
lay buried before. But, although his biographer,

DRINKING HABITS. 83
Miss Aikin, has defended him from the imputa
tion of drinking, this weakness has generally been
acknowledged. Thus Dr. Johnson writes of him :
— "He studied all morning, then dined at a
tavern, and went afterwards to Button's. Button
had been a servant in the Countess of Warwick's
family, who, under the patronage of Addison, kept
a coffee-house on the south side of Russell Street,
about two doors from Covent Garden. Here it
was that the wits of that time used to assemble.
It is said, when Addison had suffered any vexa
tion from the Countess, he withdrew the company
from Button's house. From the coffee-house he
went again to a tavern, where he often sat late,
and drank too much wine. In the bottle, discon
tent seeks for comfort, cowardice for courage, and
bashfulness for confidence. It is not unlikely
that Addison was first seduced to excess by the
manumission which he obtained from the servile
timidity of his sober hours. He that feels oppres
sion from the presence of those to whom he
knows himself superior, will desire to set loose
his powers of conversation, and who, that ever
asked succour from Bacchus, was able to preserve
himself from being enslaved by his auxiliary ?"
Sheridan, we are told, did not display his intel
lectual powers in company till he had been
warmed by wine. During the earlier part of the

84 GREAT MEN AT PLA Y.
dinner he was generally heavy and silent, but,
after dinner, when he had drunk a tolerable
quantity of wine, his convivial talents were th©
charm, and delight, of all present. Numerous
anecdotes are related of his table talk, many of
which are very amusing. Thus Mr. Poyntz told
Haydon, the painter, that once, when he was
dining with Sheridan at Somerset House, and
they were all in high feather, in rushed the ser
vant and said —
" Sir, the house is on fire ! "
" Bring another bottle of claret," said Sheridan,
" it is not my house."
One night, writes Byron, Sheridan was found
in the street by a watchman, bereft of that
" divine particle of air " called reason, and fuddled,
and bewildered, and almost insensible. The
watchman asked —
" Who are you, sir ? "
No answer.
" What's your name ? "
Answer, in a slow, deliberate, and impassive
tone —
" Wilberforce ! "
Whereupon Byron notes, " Is not that Sherry
all over ? And to my mind excellent. Poor
fellow ! Ris very dregs are better than the first
sprightly runnings of others." Sir Nathaniel

DRINKING HABITS. 85
Wraxall tells us that when he last dined in com
pany with Sheridan, in the year 1807, he displayed
his usual convivial talents, which never forsook
him. But the host, the Duke of Queensberry,
who was above eighty years old, and had
become deaf, did not allow Sheridan to sit long
enough, or to swallow sufficient wine, for fully
expanding his powers of colloquial entertain
ment. Much, however, as Sheridan's graceful wit and
humour were admired, one cannot forget that it
was, in a great measure, dependent on the wine he
consumed, when there was that ever-speaking
lustre in his eye which rendered it impossible,
says Moore, even when he happened to be silent,
to forget who he was. " If the thought," he
would say, " is slow to come, a glass of good wine
encourages it, and when it does come, a glass of
good wine rewards it." But, as Captain Gronow
remarks, " many of the follies, and extravagances,
that marked the life of this gifted, but reckless,
personage must be attributed to the times in
which he existed. Drinking was the fashion of
the day."
Steele drank freely, and wrote many of his
articles for The Tatler in pot-houses; and
Bentley is said to have been an admirer of good
old port, but spoke contemptuously of claret,

86 GREA T MEN A T PLA \.
which he said "would be port if it could."
Pope, in his " Dunciad," thus speaks of his fond
ness for port —
As many quit the streams that murmuring fall,
To lull the sons of Margaret and Clare-hall,
Where Bentley late tempestuous wont to sport
In troubled waters, but now sleeps in port.
But even Pope himself is generally supposed
to have hastened his death by " drinking spirits
and feeding on highly-seasoned dishes."
The celebrated satirist and poet, Charles
Churchill, was sadly intemperate in his drinking
habits. One day, when at the Bedford Arms
parlour — where he with certain others had formed
a whist club — he fell out with Hogarth, and insult
ingly called him " a very shallow fellow," following
up his remark by writing disparagingly of the
artist's productions. But Hogarth was equal to
the occasion, and revenged the sneer. Converting
an old copper plate into a palimpsest, he drew a
caricature of Churchill as a growling bear with
the ragged canonicals of a parson, for such the
poet had been ; a pot of porter by his side ; and a
ragged staff in his paw, each knot inscribed "lye."
Although Dean Swift regarded himself as a
temperate man, he enjoyed his port, and used
to give his guests excellent wine ; while Byron
seems to have been intemperate by fits and starts,

DRINKING HABITS. 87
having composed, it is said, much of his poetry
under the influence of gin.
On one occasion Samuel Foote — dining at the
table of a nobleman who gave nothing but port
wine — met his wine merchant, who asked him, in
the course of conversation, how the last pipe of
port turned out.
" Why, I should suppose pretty well," said he,
" as I have had no complaints from the kitchen."
There was as much truth as jest in this reply ;
as" Foote, when he had cash, indulged his servants
in all kinds of luxuries. On another day, being
at the same table, when the Cape was going round
in remarkably small glasses, his lordship was very
profuse on the excellence of the wine, its age, etc.
" But," he said, " you don't seem to relish it,
Foote, by keeping your glass so long before you."
"Oh, yes, my lord," he replied, "perfectly well.
I am only admiring how little it is considering
its great age."*
Person's habit of drinking has long ago become
proverbial ; and, indeed, had he lived in the
present rather than the past century, his character
would not have been so easily cleared of his inor
dinate love of drink. " Seldom," says Sydney
Smith, " did gentlemen in the last century come
sober into the drawing-room ; " but Person's
• "Memoirs of Samuel Foote," William Cooke, iii., 58-9.

88 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
extravagances, in spite of the excuses of the
time, were so abnormal that, it has even been sug
gested, they must be attributed to some unexplored
disease. Then, at breakfast, porter was his
favourite beverag-e, in allusion to which the fol-
lowing story is told : —
One Sunday morning, meeting Dr. Goodall,
Provost of Eton, he said —
" Where are you going ?"
" To church," he replied.
" Where is Mrs. Goodall ? " asked Porson.
" At breakfast."
" Very well ; I'll go and breakfast with her."
Accordingly Porson called on Mrs. Goodall, and
being asked what he would like to have, said
" Porter." It was sent for, pot after pot ; and
the sixth pot was being carried into the house
when Dr. Goodall returned from church.
Another well-known anecdote of a somewhat
embarrassing nature is told of Person's deter
mined love of drink: — When Hoppner, the painter,
was residing a few miles from London, Porson
called one afternoon ; his friend regretting that he
could not offer him hospitality as his wife had
gone to town, and taken the key of the wine
cellar. Porson, however, declaring that he would
be content with a mutton chop, and beer from the
next ale-house, stayed to dine. But during the

DRINKING HABITS. 89
-evening he suggested that his friend should make
a search for some wine, adding, " I am quite
¦certain that Mrs. Hoppner keeps some nice bottle
for her private drinking in her own bedroom ; so
,pray try if you can lay your hands on it." In
vain his host affirmed to the contrary, but, Porson
insisting that they should look, a bottle was at last
discovered in the lady's apartment, much to the
surprise of Hoppner, and the joy of his guest,
who, quickly finishing its contents, pronounced it
to be the best gin he had tasted for a long time.
Next day Hoppner, somewhat vexed, informed
his wife that Porson had drunk every drop of her
-concealed spirit.
"Drunk every drop of it? " cried she. " My God !
it was spirits of wine for the lamp."
It is said that Porson could drink anything —
•even ink, and the story goes that he once drank
an embrocation. His capacity for drinking was
simply prodigious, and, curious to say, did not
interfere with his intellectual powers. According
to Rogers, when dining out, he would often, after
the visitors had left the table, pour into a tumbler
the drops remaining in the wine glasses, and drink
off the omnium gatherum.
" No man brings more mind to his profession
than James," remarked Dr. Johnson of this
physician of the last century, who gained a

90 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
notoriety by his famous fever powders ; an inju
dicious dose of which, taken without the know
ledge of his medical attendants, is said to have
proved fatal to poor Oliver Goldsmith. But
Robert James, whatever his medical skill, gave
way to intemperate habits, which occasionally
betrayed him into the commission of gross
absurdities. On comparing the pulse of a patient
with his own, quickened as it was by the stimu
lants he had swallowed, he would sometimes con
found them together, and bluntly tax the sick
person with being drunk. But, fortunately for
his own reputation, he rarely committed blunders
of this kind early in the day, refraining from the
bottle until after dinner.
Dr. George Fordyce, the fashionable physician,
had a similar propensity, and was, one evening,
called away, from a drinking bout, to see a lady
of title who was supposed to have been taken
suddenly ill. Arrived at her residence, he listened
to the recital of a train of symptoms, which
appeared somewhat anomalous, and then examined
her pulse. He tried in vain to reckon the number
of beats, but his brain whirled ; and, conscious of
the cause of hisdifficulty, he inadvertently blurted
out in a moment of irritation, " Drunk, by Jove 1 "
The lady heard the remark, but said nothing, and
Dr. Fordyce, after prescribing a mild remedy, took

DRINKING HABITS. 91
his departure. Early next morning he was again
sent for by his lady patient, and, ill at ease from
recollecting the state in which he had visited her,
he was fully prepared for a severe reprimand.
But, much to his happy surprise, she thanked
him for his prompt attention ; and, after apologiz
ing for the condition in which he had found her
on the previous evening, exacted a promise that
he would keep the secret. "You may depend
upon me, madam," he replied, with a countenance
unmoved, " I shall be silent as the grave."
Many tavern anecdotes are told illustrative of
Dr. Radcliffe and his intemperate habits. Accord
ing to one story, he once refused to quit a tavern
until he had finished his bottle, although urgently
entreated by her husband to visit a lady who was
in great danger. Irritated by his conduct, the
gentleman forcibly carried him out of the house,
Radcliffe, in the meantime, calling him uncompli
mentary terms, and swearing that in revenge he
would cure his wife — a threat which he carried
into effect.
Another well-known tavern anecdote tells us
that while dining one day with Lord Granville
and others of the principal nobility, at the Mitre,
in Fleet Street, he received a letter from a man
under sentence of death in Newgate for a highway
robbery, confessing that he had some time before

32 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
Stolen £150 from Radcliffe, whose intercession he
¦earnestly solicited to obtain a commutation of the
sentence. Radcliffe immediately applied to Lord
Granville, at the same time, remarking that the
man's confession established the innocence of one
whom he had unjustly suspected. Through this
nobleman's interest, the culprit was reprieved, and
transported to Virginia, whence in a short time
he sent produce to Radcliffe equivalent to the
amount of his loss.
Dr. Lettsom, another celebrated physician of
the last century, enjoyed his three or four glasses
of wine after dinner, and " his temperate habits,"
says Mr. Pettigrew,* "conduced to the enjoyment
of his health." But, in these days of temperance
societies, it may be questioned whether the good
doctor would now be considered abstemious.
Anyhow, the following passage, in a letter which
he received from his friend Dr. Cumins, seems
to show that he was not altogether free from the
imputation of excess in his drinking habits : —
" Let me seriously advise you, my friend, for the
sake of your health, to relinquish your nocturnal
lucubrations, and your convivialities, to go to bed
with your wife and family at eleven o'clock, and
rise every morning as early as you please." On
the other hand, according to Mr. Pettigrew,
* Memoirs of, i., 172.

DRINKING HABITS. 93
" coffee was his favourite beverage, which, as he
was accustomed to sit up frequently during half
the night to answer his numerous correspondents,
and pursue his literary engagements, very much
refreshed him."
An amusing story is told of George Stephenson
and his port wine. While at Liverpool he had
very little time for company, but, on one particular
occasion, he invited his friend Mr. Sandars to
dinner, and, as his friend was a connoisseur in
port wine, his host determined to give him a
special treat. Accordingly, Stephenson went to
the small merchant with whom he usually dealt,
and ordered " half-a-dozen of his very best port
wine," which was promised of first-rate quality.
After dinner the wine was produced, and when
Mr. Sandars had sipped a glass, George, after
waiting a little for the expected eulogium, at
length asked —
" Well, Sandars, how d'ye like the port ?"
" Poor stuff ! " said the guest, " poor stuff 1 "
Stephenson was naturally very much shocked,
and with difficulty recovered his good humour.
But he lived to be able to treat Mr. Sandars to a
superior article at Tapton House, and oftentimes
laughed over his futile attempt at Liverpool to
gain a reputation for his port.
Among some of the many stories recorded of

94 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
David Hume the following is told by Mr. Ritchie
in his life of the historian (1808, 298) :— " The
author of ' Douglas ' is said to have a mortal
aversion to port wine and to have had frequent
disputes, with the historian, about the manner of
spelling his name. Both these circumstances
were often the subject of Mr. Hume's raillery,
and he verbally bequeathed to the poet a quantity
of port wine, on condition that he should always
drink a bottle at a sitting, and give a receipt for
it under the signature of John Hume."
The talented writer, John Wolcot — better
known by the appellation of Peter Pindar — used
to inveigh, both in his writings and conversation,
against the treatment he received from publishers,
and the following characteristic anecdote is
recorded of him, when dining one day at the
house of a celebrated bookseller : — " The host
had left the room, when someone proposed his
health. 'No!' said Dr. Wolcot, rising, and at
the same time brandishing a bottle of port in his
hand, ' No ! let us drink a bumper to our own,
for this is authors' blood !' "
An equally convivial man was Thomson, the
author of the " Seasons," the following anecdote
being told of him : — " Mr. H., of Bangor, was
once asked to dinner by Thomson, but could not
attend. One of his friends, who was there, told

DRINKING HABITS. 95
him that there was a general stipulation agreed
on, by the whole company, that there should be
no hard drinking. Thomson acquiesced, only
requiring that each man should drink his bottle.
The terms were accepted unconditionally, and
when the cloth was removed a three-quart bottle
was set before each of his guests. Thomson had
much of this agreeable kind of humour."
According to another anecdote, Quin and himself
would return home at four o'clock in the morning,
and, as may be imagined, not over sober. When
he was writing, in his own house, he frequently
sat with a bowl of punch before him, and that a
good large one.
With Lord Hermand drinking was a virtue,
and he had a serious compassion for those who
could not indulge in it, and a contempt of those
who could, but would not. No carouse ever
injured his health, for he was never ill, nor did it
impair his taste for home or quiet, or muddle his
head. It is said that he used very often to go
direct from his club, to the Court, on Saturday
morning's. When some of his friends were once
protesting against more wine, he mournfully
exclaimed — " What shall we come to at last ? I
believe I shall be left alone, on the face of the
earth, drinking claret !"
Though never addicted to excess, there had

96 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
been a time when the habits of Charles Pratt,.
Earl Camden, harmonizing with the geniality of
his disposition, had not only inclined him to be
convivial, but when, as regarded the delicacies of
the table, he is said to have displayed a tendency
to epicurism. But with the increase of years,.
and probably with the fear of gout before his
eyes, writes Mr. Jesse, he seems to have made
strict abstinence his rule of life. Writing to the
Duke of Grafton, who had invited him to stay
with him, he says : — " I am, thank God, remark
ably well, but your Grace must not seduce me
into my former intemperance. A plain dish and
a draught of porter, which last is indispensable,
are the very extent of my luxury." As years
rolled on, he altogether discountenanced the-
drinking of heating wines, and highly seasoned
dishes, and, by a judicious care of himself, arrived
at a strong and healthy old age.*
As an after-dinner conversationalist Dr. Maginn
was known for the liveliness of his fancy, and the
diversity of his anecdotes, but unfortunately he
was not free from those wild irregularities which
have spoilt the career of so many men. But, as
it has been often remarked, genius is seldom^
perfect, and, alas ! that fault which exiled Fox
from the Cabinet of England and reduced
* See Lord Campbell's " Lives of the Chancellors," v., 299.

DRINKING HABITS. 97
Sheridan to poverty and shame, was the ruin,
too, of William Maginn. Lockhart, writing on
his deceased friend some lines descriptive of his
character, concluded thus —
At last he was beat, and sought help from the bin,
(All the same to the doctor, from claret to gin),
Which led swiftly to gaol, with consumption therein.
It was much, when the bones rattled loose in his skin,
He got leave to die here,* out of Babylon's din.
Barring drink and the girls, I ne'er heard of a sin,
Many worse, better few, than bright, broken Maginn.
A noted port wine drinking judge was Lord
Northington, who, it may be remembered, pre
vailed on George III. to let him discontinue the
evening attendances in Court.
" But why," asked his Majesty, " do you wish
for a change ? "
" Sir," replied the Chancellor, " I want the
change that I may finish my bottle of port at my
ease, and your Majesty, in your parental care for
the happiness of your subjects, will, I trust, think
this a sufficient reason."
The King, laughing at this novel request, good
naturedly made the required change, and hence
forth the good Chancellor was allowed to drink
his port uninterrupted by the cares of office.
Lord Thurlow relished his full-bodied port, and
under its influence, it is said, were seen to best
* Walton-on-Thames, August, 1842.
VOL. II. H

98 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
advantage those colloquial powers which caused
Johnson to remark — " Depend upon it, sir, it is
when you come close to a man in conversation
that you discover what his real abilities are.
Now I honour Thurlow, sir ; Thurlow is a fine
fellow. He fairly puts his mind to yours."
Referring to Lord Stowell, of whom mention
has already been made, two bottles formed with
him no uncommon allowance, although, as years
advanced, he was never seen to be affected by it.
For some years his brother made it a rule to dine
with him, on the first day of term, at a tavern near
the Temple, on which occasions the quantity of
wine consumed seems even to have astonished the
waiters. Recalling, in after-years, these terminal
dinners to his son-in-law. Lord Sidmouth, the
latter observed —
" You drank some wine together, I dare say ? "
" Yes, we drank some wine," replied Lord
Stowell. " Two bottles ? " added his son-in-law, inquisi
tively. "More than that."
" What ! three bottles ? " exclaimed his son-in-
law. "More."
" By Jove, sir ! you don't mean to say that you
took four bottles ? "

DRINKING HABITS. 99
Lord Stowell, somewhat ashamed at these
admissions on his part, rejoined —
" More 1 I mean to say we had more. Now
don't ask any more questions."
But, throughout his professional career, pru
dence made him careful to avoid anything like the
ill-effects of over- drinking, and, when he found
that a friendship often betrayed him into excess,
he wisely withdrew from it. Thus, writing to
his brother in May, 1 778, he says : — " I see your
friend Bowles very often, but I dare not dine with
him above once in three months, as there is no
getting away before midnight, and, indeed, one
is sure to be in a condition in which no man
would wish to be in the streets, at any other
season." Until the close of his life Lord Eldon was an
habitual port wine drinker, and, just three weeks
before his death, the veteran lawyer, sitting in his
easy chair, and recalling his early triumphs, pre
cluded an account of the great leading case,
Akroyd v. Smithson, by saying to his listener,
" Come, Farrer, help yourself to a glass of New
castle port, and help me to a little." But, we
are told, although the old lawyer asked for a little,
he drank much before he was raised from his
chair, and conducted to his sleeping apartment.
It is further stated that, in his extreme old age, he

100 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
never drank less than three pints of port daily
with, or after, his dinner.
Sir William Grant, Master of the Rolls, was a
man of simple habits. In his time the Rolls
Court sat in the evening, from six to ten, and Sir
William usually dined after the Court rose. His
servant, it is said, when he went to bed, left two
bottles of wine on the table, which he always
found empty in the morning.
A humorous and amusing anecdote used to
be told by Mr. Justice Talfourd of a man of
genius who was noted for his improvidence. It
appears he had invited a large party to dinner,
when it was observed that, although wine was
served in profusion, there were no two bottles of
the same. The mystery was soon explained.
" I have no credit with my wine merchant, nor,
to say the truth, with any other man's wine mer
chant, and I was sadly puzzled how to manage
for you, when a fellow knocked at the door with
specimens of Indian wines, or what he called
wines, so I told him to leave a bottle of each on
trial, and call again to-morrow." This announce
ment was far from reassuring, and, as some of
the company complained of incipient pains in
the stomach, he was requested to send for some
brandy by way of antidote.
" With all my heart," was the reply, " but you

DRINKING HABITS. 101
must first club your sixpence apiece," and the six
pences being clubbed accordingly, the threatened
sickness was averted, and the half-empty bottles
of wine were put aside, to be returned to the
composer. In early life Baron Martin was so completely
prostrated by severe illness that two of his friends,
standing over his silent body, gave expression to
the sentiment —
" Ah, poor dear fellow, we shall never drink a
glass of wine with him again," when suddenly, to
their momentary alarm, and subsequent delight,
he interposed —
" But you will, though, and a good many, too,
I hope." The young lawyer, who was not dead yet, lived to
old age, besides accomplishing much useful work.
Over the dinner table, he often used to tell this
anecdote, which rarely failed to excite much
laughter. It would seem that Lord Chancellor Somers
was pleasantly affected by wine, for his counten
ance relaxed its severe expression, and, according
to Swift —
By force of wine even Scarborough is brave,
Hall grows more pert, and Somers not so grave.
Following the fashion of the day, John Philip
Kemble was fond of deep drinking, a practice to
which, it has been asserted, he unquestionably

102 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
owed the comparatively premature decay of his
health. "It is characteristic, however, of the
man," writes Mr. Percy Fitzgerald,* that "his
conviviality never took the shape of coarse
drunkenness. He contrived to ' carry his liquor
discreetly,' and, even in his cups, it was the thought
of his profession that came uppermost, and it was
then that his friends were amused to hear him
vehemently asserting his own merits."
Of the many stories told of his convivial
moments, the late Mr. Adolphus has given an
amusing picture of such a scene in this celebrated
actor's early life.
About five one morning Kemble, after a very
late dinner party, dropped into a night club at
Covent Garden, known as " The Finish," and
began almost immediately to dwell on his
favourite topic — his own gifts, his standing at
the head of his profession — and then recited from
Shakespeare. The audience were in high spirits,
and kept interrupting the recitation with such
remarks as —
" Well, Mr. Kemble, we give you leave to go on."
" Give me leave, sir ! " replied Kemble, in his
most haughty fashion. " As well might a barber
at Rome have said to Coriolanus, ' I give you
leave to do something.' "
* "The Kembles," ii., 240-41.

DRINKING HABITS. 103
On someone retorting angrily, at his disparage
ment of barbers, he replied —
" God forbid that I should say anything against
barbers, for a relation of my own was once one,"
alluding either to his father, or his brother-in-law.
The company present then began to quiz his
peculiarities of pronunciation, which ruffled his
temper, and at this crisis the landlady, with a
tray of glasses, happening to touch him as she
passed by, so incensed the tragedian that he
swept them all from the tray in a rage, cutting
his hand severely.
In spite of his delicate health, Keats did not
refrain from indulging somewhat in that dissipa
tion which a Mr. Monkton Milnes remarks " is
the natural outlet for the young energies of ardent
temperaments, unconscious how scanty a portion
of vital strength had been allotted him, but a
strictly regulated, and abstinent, life would have
appeared to him pedantic and sentimental."
But, whatever his later faults, he did not always
allow wine to any serious extent to usurp on his
intellect, for in one of his letters he speaks of
having drunk too much as a rare piece of joviality.
In his walking tour in the summer of the year
1818, describing his arrival at Dumfries, he says :
— "We have now begun on whisky, called here
' whuskey.' Very smart stuff it is. Mixed, like

104 GREAT MEN AT PLA Y.
our bquors, with sugar and water, 'tis called
toddy; very pretty drink, and much praised by
Burns," and adds how they drank " some toddy "
to poor Burns' memory. The malicious criticism,
however, with which his " Bndymion " was re
ceived almost turned his head, and drove him to
find relief in drink. According to Haydon, " for
six weeks he was scarcely sober, and to show
what a man will do to gratify his appetites when
they get the better of him, he once covered his
tongue and throat, as far as he could reach, with
cayenne pepper, in order to appreciate, to quote
his own words, ' the delicious coldness of claret
in all its glory.' "
When Burns was remonstrated with by a lady
— one of his intimate friends — for wasting his
time with drinking companions, ho replied :
"Madam, they would not thank me for my com
pany if I did not drink with them, so I must give
them a slice of my constitution." His excesses
have often been made the subject of comment,
and, like many others, he had not the moral
courage to give up a pernicious habit, which, he
confessed, was " the devil to him." At times he
made up his mind to be regular in his drinking
habits, and abstained from taverns, but his good
resolutions were soon forgotten when he attended
the private parties of the " hard-drinking gentle-

DRINKING HABITS. 105
men" of the period. At the close of the year
1793, Burns was at such a gathering at Walter
Riddel's, when he became scandalously drunk and
was really rude to Mrs. Riddel. It is true he
expressed the bitterest remorse on the following
day, but the Riddels broke with him for some
time, whereupon he wrote a series of bitter
lampoons upon the lady. Eventually, however,
Mrs. Riddel became reconciled to him, and saw
him before his death, writing an appreciative
obituary notice of him soon after his death in the
Dumfries Journal.
A highly convivial man was Theodore Hook,
and it has been stated that the disorder, under
which he long laboured, arose from a diseased
state of the liver and stomach, brought on partly
by anxiety, but " chiefly, it is to be feared, by
that habit of over-indulgence at table," which
has, sooner or later, ruined the health of so many
great men. " Indeed," as it has been remarked,
" a stanza of his own composition, reveals in brief
the man : —
" Then, now I'm resolved at all sorrows to blink.
Since winking's the tippy I'll tip 'em the wink,
I'll never get drunk when I cannot get drink,
Nor ever let misery bore me.
I sneer at the Fates, and I laugh at their spite,
I sit down contented to sit up all night.
And when my time comes, from the world take my flight,
For — my father did so before me."

106 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
In private life Thomas Moore partook of the
convivial spirit of his muse, and was as much an
admirer of sparkling eyes, and glittering glasses,
at the social board as he was in his poems. But
the death of his only remaining child, and his last,
and most beloved sister, deeply affected his health,
and crushed his spirits. He made engagements
to dinner and forgot them, and, when he did
appear, his gay flow of spirits and humorous
stories were wanting. When, too, as Lord John
Russell writes, he was seen " in the midst of the
gay, and the convivial, without his gaiety and
without his conviviality, when the fine fancy
appeared not so much sobered as saddened, it was
a cheerless sight."
On the other hand, unless Sir Walter Scott had
been a man of sober habits, he could not have
accomplished the large amount of literary work he
got through. His principal indulgence in alcohol
was an occasional glass of whisky toddy, the
quantity of which he reduced as he grew older.
And yet he was not averse to the moderate
enjoyment of wine, although he repudiated any
thing approaching to excess. Thus, writing to his
son, he says: — "A man may be violent and out
rageous in his liquor, but wine seldom makes a
gentleman a blackguard, or instigates a loyal man
to utter sedition. Wine unveils the passions, and

DRINKING HABITS. 107
throws away restraint, but it does not create habits,
or opinions, which did not previously exist in his
mind. Besides, what sort of defence is this of
intemperance? I suppose if a private commits
riot, or is disobedient in his cups, his officers do
not admit whisky to be an excuse. I have seen
enough of that sort of society, where habitual
indulgence drowned, at last, every distinction
between what is worthy and unworthy. And I
have seen young men with the fairest prospects,
turn out degraded, miserable outcasts before their
life was half spent, merely from soaking and
sotting, and the bad habits these naturally lead
to." But this was not the only occasion he
warned his son against drinking, for writing from
Abbotsford, August 7th, 1819, he says :— " To
drink hard is none of your habits, but even drink
ing what is called a certain quantity every day
heats the stomach, and by hereditary descent
yours is delicate. I believe the poor Duke of
Buccleuch laid the foundation of that disease,
which occasioned his premature death, in the
excesses of Villars's regiment; and I am sorry and
ashamed to say, for your warning, that the habit of
drinking wine, so much practised when I was a
young man, occasioned, I am convinced, many of
my cruel stomach complaints. You had better
drink a bottle of wine on any particular occasion.

108 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
than sit, and soak, and tipple, at an English pint
every day."*
Port, Sir Walter Scott considered as physic.
He never willingly swallowed more than one glass
of it, and was sure to anathematize a second, if
offered, by repeating John Home's epigram —
Bold and erect the Caledonian stood,
Old was his mutton and his claret good;
" Let him drink port,'' the English statesman cried —
He drank the poison, and his spirit died.
Much injustice has been done to Charles Lamb,
writes Barry Cornwall, by accusing him of excess
in drinking. The truth is, he says, that a small
quantity of any strong liquid disturbed his speech,
which at best was but an eloquent stammer. The
distresses of his early life made him ready to
resort to any remedy which brought forgetfulness.
And he himself, frail in body, and excitable, was
very speedily affected. " During all my intimacy
with him," adds Barry Cornwall, " I never knew
him drink immoderately, except once, when having
been prevailed upon to abstain altogether from
wine and spirits, he resented the vow thus forced
upon him, by imbibing an extraordinary quantity
of the ' spurious ' liquid. When he says, ' The
waters have gone over me,' he speaks in metaphor,
not historically. He was never vanquished by
water, and seldom by wine."
-* " Life of Sir Walter Scott," E. Lockhart, 1855, 407.

DRINKING HABITS. 109
But, on the other hand, as the Edinburgh
Reviewer remarks. Lamb's own self-accusations,
and self-reproach, speak for themselves, and the
following penitential letter to Mr. Gary, the
accomplished translator of Dante, at the British
Museum, admits of no comment : —
" I protest I know not in what words to invest
my sense of the shameful violation of hospitality
which I was guilty of on that fatal Wednesday.
Let it be blotted from the calendar. Had it been
committed at a layman's house — say a merchant's
or a manufacturer's, a cheesemonger's or green
grocer's, or, to go higher, a barrister's, a member
of Parliament's, or a rich banker's, I should have
felt alleviation, a drop of self-pity. But to be
seen deliberately to go out of the house of a
clergyman drunk ! A clergyman of the Church of
England too ! And then, from what house ! Not
a common glebe or vicarage (which yet had been
shameful), but from a kingly depository of sciences,
human and divine, with the Primate of England
for its guardian, arrayed in public majesty, from
which the profane vulgar are bid fly. Could all
those volumes have taught me nothing better? . . .
Occasion led me through Great Russell Street
yesterday. I gazed at the great knocker. My
feeble hands essayed in vain to lift it. I dreaded
that Argus, who doubtless lanterned me out on

110 GREAT MEN AT PLA Y.
that prodigious night. I called the Elgin Marbles ;
they were cold to my suit. I shall never again, I
said, on the wide gates unfolding, say, without
fear of thrusting back, in a light but a peremptory
air, ' I am going to Mr. Gary's.' "
His friend and executor, Thomas Talfourd,
whilst admitting the existence of this frailty, says
that Charles Lamb made heroic sacrifices to escape
the temptation when presented, and adds that the
frailty itself was so intimately associated with
all that was most endearing in his intellectual,
and sweetest in his moral excellencies, that it
would be impossible, without noticing it, to do
justice to his virtues."
But, in all honest praise of Lamb, and after
making every allowance for any fault he may
have possessed, we must ever grieve that one so
beloved — so intellectually great — so sorely tried —
should ever at any time have fallen a victim to so
humiliating a habit.
A glass of punch was a luxury that Robert
Southey could not refuse. " After supper," writes
his son, " when the business of the day seemed to
be over, though he generally took a book, he
remained with his family, and was open to enter
into conversation, to amuse, and to be amused. It
was on such times that the most pleasant fire-side
chattings, and the most interesting stories, came
forth. And, indeed, it was at such a time," he

DRINKING HABITS. Ill
adds, " that ' The Doctor ' was originated, as
may be seen by the beginning of that work."
Notwithstanding that the very mention of " my
glass of punch," the one, temperate, never-ex
ceeded glass of punch, may be a stumbling-
block to some of my readers, I am constrained
by the very love of the perfect picture which
the first lines of " The Doctor," convey of the
conclusion of his evening, to transcribe them :
— "I was in the fourth night of the story of the
doctor and his horse, and had broken it off, not,
like Scheherazade, because it was time to get up,
but because it was time to go to bed. It was at
thirty-five minutes after ten o'clock on the 20th
July, in the year of our Lord 1813. I finished
my glass of punch, tinkled the spoon against its
side, as if making music to my own meditations,
and having fixed my eyes at the head of her own
table, I said, ' It ought to be written in a book !' "
" This scene," adds his son,* " took place at the
table of the Bhow Begum, f but it may be easily
transferred to his ordinary room, where he sat
after supper in one corner, with the fire on his left
hand, and a small table on his right, looking on at
his family circle in front of him."
Southey did not altogether regard the tavern
* Miss Barker, the senhora of earlier days, who was living at
that time in a house close to Greta Hall.
t Life and Correspondence of, by Rev. C. Cuthbert Southey,
vi., 6.

112 GREAT MEN AT PLA Y.
with a favourable eye, and writes : — " For the
labouring man the ale-house is too often a place
of unmingled evil ; where, while he is single, he
squanders the money which ought to be laid up
as a provision for marriage or old age; and where,
if he frequent it after he is married, he commits
the far heavier sin of spending, for his own selfish
gratification, the earnings upon which the woman,
and children, whom he has rendered dependent
upon him, have the strongest of all claims."
On one occasion, when James Hofja: was visitins:
Keswick, he sent an invitation to Greta Hall,
asking Southey to come to his inn, and "drink
one half-mutchkin with him." The poet came, and
stayed an hour and a half, but showed no disposi
tion to imbibe. " I was," says Hogg, " aggrieved,
as well as an astonished man when I found that he
refused all participation in my beverage of rum-
punch. For a poet to refuse his glass was to me
a phenomenon; and I confess I doubted in my own
mind, and doubt to this day, if perfect sobriety, and
transcendent poetical genius can exist together.
In Scotland I am sure they cannot. With regard
to the English, I shall leave them to settle that
among themselves, as they have little that is worth
drinking." Southey evidently thought otherwise,
and Hogg himself, till he got to Edinburgh, had
led a very temperate life, but he was "evidently

DRINKING HABITS. 113
to the manner born, and took to his grog like a
poet." One of his first publishers, Jamie Robert
son, he happily describes as " a kind-hearted,
confused body, who loved a joke and a dram." It
appears that " the two worthies met each day to
consult about literary matters, and uniformly
proceeded to a house in the Cowgate, where they
drank with the printers till Hogg's brain was so
dizzy, that on leaving he could hardly walk. Long
before this, however, he records how, when the
two Cunninghams, father and son, had sought him
out when herding his master's ewes on a Niths-
dale hill, the elder produced a ' strong bottle,' with
which they retired into the lonely bothy, and
talked and boozed far into the afternoon ; and
it was Lockhart's store of Jamaica rum which
enabled the shepherd, as he confesses, to overcome
his rustic timidity."
David Cox's habits at Bettwys-y-Coed were
exceedingly primitive and simple. After his day's
labours he would often sit in the evening in the
parlour of the Royal Oak Inn, which in his time
was a thoroughly artists' club. Here he would
enjoy his pint of ale, " with one or two cronies by
his side, willing to listen and willing to teach."
" There was," says Mr. Solly,* " no racket, no
* " Life of David Cox," 172.
VOL. II. I

114 GREAT MEN AT PLAY.
shouting, no fastness, or slang — it was an intelli
gent, rational, pleasant evening's amusement,"
and oftentimes might be heard French, German,
Hungarian, Enghsh, and Welsh flowing on like a
polyglot stream at the sametime in that same
dingy parlour. He was most moderate in his
habits, and even when in company drank but
little wine. Indeed, Mr. Solly has given several
charming little pictures of him in his social life,
from which we learn that, however simple his
mode of living might be, he thoroughly valued
and appreciated the convivial board of his friends,
which he never allowed to incapacitate him for
work. Admiral Lord St. Vincent was much opposed
to intemperance in any form or shape ; and,
although his hospitality was unbounded, he was
greatly offended when he observed any approach
to familiarity between subordinates and their
superiors. "Thus, on one occasion," writes Cap
tain Brenton,* " Sir George Cockburn, and one or
two other Lords of the Admiralty, dined with him
at his country seat, at Rochetts, in company with
some persons well known to them, but not, as
his lordship thought, qualified to address them in
the style they did at dinner — ' Cockburn, wine ? '
' Osborn, wine ? ' ' And then, sir,' said he to me,
* " Life of Earl of Vincent," i., 352.

DRINKING HABITS. 115
* when they drank to them, they gave a familiar
nod with their heads, quite incompatible with my
ideas of respect and propriety.' "
" This incident reminded me," adds Captain
Brenton, " that the Marquis of Wellesley, when
he went out with me to Cadiz in the Donegal,
complained that the nodding of the head, in taking
wine at dinner, instead of the well-bred, but old-
fashioned bow, was growing into a vile habit
among young people."
Lord Blakeney never dined with his subordi
nates, but frequently joined them in a tavern
carousal. His favourite beverage was punch, an
inordinate use of which brought on an alarming
paralytic seizure.
Against this anecdote may be mentioned one
often related by Mr. Savory, of Bond Street : —
A friend of his, a baronet, on his return home
from a convivial party, was seized with paralysis,
and suddenly deprived of speech, and power of
moving one side of his body. Either from feelings
of desperation, or an impulse of aberration, the
gentleman had a bottle of port wine brought to
his bed-side, and, having finished it, he turned
with great composure on his side and went to
sleep. That gentleman lived long after, his
intellect wholly unimpaired, his speech restored,
and his general health as good as ever it was; and

1 1 6 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
he long enjoyed his bottle or two of port win©
with apparent impunity.* But this, it must b©
admitted, was a very exceptionable case.
Although Canon Kingsley did not hesitate to
declare publicly that he was not " a total
abstainer," he was an earnest, and zealous
champion of moderation. Excess in any form or
shape was an abhorrence to him, and an evil
against which he eloquently inveighed. f Indeed,
that he was looked up to as a powerful and
influential antagonist against intemperance may
be gathered from the fact that in April, 1873, he
was specially asked to preach for the Temperance
Society in Westminster Abbey, on which occasion,
after speaking of Sunday drinking and some of
its preventable causes, and of how far behind the
Greeks and Romans we are m that education, and
recreation, for the masses which the higher orders
in England derive from works of art and objects
of beauty, he pleaded in the most touching and
pathetic language for the opening of public
galleries on Sunday afternoons: — "In such a
world as this, governed by a Being who has made
sunshine and flowers, and green grass, and the
song of birds, and happy human smiles, and who
would educate them by His human children from
the cradle to the grave — will you grudge any
* " His Letters and Memories of his Life,'' 1877, i., 276.

DRINKING HABITS. 117
particle of that education, even any harmless
substitute for it, to those spirits in prison whose
surroundings too often tempt them, from the
cradle to the grave, to fancy that the world is
composed of bricks and iron, and governed by
inspectors and policemen? Preach to those spirits
in prison, but let them have besides some glimpses
of the splendid fact that outside their prison-
house is a world which God — not man — has
made; wherein grows that tree of knowledge
which is like the tree of life, and that they have a
right to some such share of its beauty, and its
wonder, and its rest, for their own health of body
and soul, and for the health of their children and
for them."
Although it is true Canon Kingsley on another
occasion spoke of the " teetotal movement with
extreme dread," he at the same time expressed
his "horror of our English drunkenness that
produced it," he fearing that " the spread of
teetotalism would beget that subtlest of sins-
spiritual pride, and Pharisaism." To cure the sin
of drink, which has long been such a wretched
blot on many a home, he maintained that the poor
man should have wholesome beer, that landlords,
magistrates, and householders should make a
stand against the increasing number of pubhc-
houses by refusing licences to fresh public-houses.

118 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
and, above all, by withholding spirit licenses. In
short, he argued that " he saw no hope for
country parishes unless the number of public-
houses could be legally restricted by the area of
the parish, and the amount of population, to th©
lowest possible number, and those, he said, must
be placed under the most vigilant police superin
tendence, especially in the outlying districts,
where they are nests of poachers and bad
characters, and utterly ruinous to the boys, girls,
and young men who frequent them from th©
moment they leave school.*
Field Marshal Sir George Pollock was very
hospitable, almost to the last day of his life, and
was often to be seen at the table of some old
familiar friend. He was very temperate — almost
abstemious in his way of living — and was with
difficulty to be persuaded to take even the very
moderate quantity of wine that was necessary for
the support of his strength. " I remember,"
writes Sir John Kaye, " telling him that Lord
Combermere had said that the Duke of Wellington
would have lived longer if he had taken more wine.
He laughed and answered, ' I dare say.' But I
don't think the story was lost upon him."
The late Earl Shaftesbury, although he never
lost an opportunity of enforcing temperance, and
* Ihid. i., 276.

DRINKING HABITS. 119
spoke strongly upon the effects of drunkenness,
was not himself at any period of his life a
total abstainer. " I am worse than a drunkard,"
he would say, playfully. "I am a moderate
drinker." On one occasion, at the Dorset County
Friendly Society, June 11th, 1868, speaking at a
banquet, he referred in pleasant humour to the
time-honoured custom of health-drinking : —
" I have seen much of these public festivals,
and I know the unanimity and good feeling which
they create. I know the harmony they produce.
I know how many prejudices have been removed,
how many quarrels and animosities have been
made up, by meeting at the convivial dinner table.
And I know a very old custom, which seems to
have been going out of late, but which I am glad
to see is being revived — the custom of drinking a
glass of wine with your fellow man. It is one of
the wisest institutions which appears to have been
framed for conviviality, and for promoting good
feeling one towards another. It is framed on the
highest system of policy. I have known many a
quarrel made up between men who had not
exchanged words for years, but who, meeting at
the dinner table, and one asking the other to take
a glass of wine with him, they had become friends
to the hour of their death. Therefore, I say,
never give up the convivial system. Only take

120 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
it, as you should every other means of enjoyment,
in moderation."
Charles Darwin drank very little wine, but was
revived by the little he did drink. He had a
horror of drinking, and constantly warned his
boys that anyone might be led into drinking too
much. " I remember," writes his son, " in my inno
cence as a small boy, asking him if he had ever
been tipsy, and he answered very gravely that he
was ashamed to say he had once drunk too much
at Cambridge. I was much impressed, so that I
know now the place where the question was
asked."

CHAPTER IV.
WATER-DEINKING.
Sydney Smith— Richard Owen Cambridge— John Foster-
Matthew Henry— Edmund Burke— Richard Cobden— John
Bright— Warren Hastings— Sir Francis Burdett— Haydon
— Wm. Cobbett— Erasmus Darwin — General Havelock —
General Elliott— Lord Heathfield— General Sir W. F.
Williams — General Sir Richard Dacres— John Wesley —
Thomas Chatterton — Wordsworth — Bishop Warburton —
Dr. Livingstone — Samuel Morley— Dr. Pye Smith — Dr.
Guthrie — Norman Macleod — Horne Tooke — Prof. Rolles-
ton — John Dalton — -George Cruikshank.
The rapid advancement of the temperance move
ment in recent years has been powerfully instru
mental in checking the extravagant excesses,
as noticed in the previous chapter, which
characterized the drinking habits at the close of
the past, and commencement of the present
century. The many noted examples of eminent
men, too, who have nearly, if not altogether,
abstained from alcoholic liquors, have always

1 22 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
attracted interest as proving that physical hard
work, and deep mental exertion, are not dependent
on stimulants of this kind for support. Such
instances have been freely quoted by advocates of
total abstinence, but, although it is true the
statesman, soldier, and missionary may in some
cases, as will be seen in the present chapter, dis
pense completely with alcoholic drink of any kind,
it is impossible to say how many, on the other
hand, would have succumbed without it.
Thoroughly characteristic is the following letter
of Sydney Smith to his daughter, Lady Holland,
written in the year 1828, in which he gives her a
glowing picture of the advantages of leaving off
wine. Indeed, it might have been written by a
zealous advocate of the temperance movement of
the present day : —
" Many thanks for your kind anxiety respect
ing my health. I not only was never better,
but never half so well ; indeed, I find I have
been very ill all my life, without knowing it.
" Let me state some of the goods arising from
abstaining from all fermented liquors.
" First, — Sweet sleep. Having never known
what sweet sleep was, I sleep like a baby or a
plough-boy. If I wake, no needless terrors, no
black visions of life, but pleasing hopes and recol
lections. Holland House, past and to come ! If

WATER-DRINKING. 123
I dream, it is not of lions and tigers, but of Easter
dues and tithes.
" Secondly, — I can take longer walks, and make
greater exertions, without fatigue. My under
standing is improved, and I comprehend political
economy. I see better without wine and spec
tacles than when I used both. Only one evil
ensues from it. I am in such extravagant spirits
that I must lose blood, or look out for some one
who will bore or depress me. Pray leave off
wine — the stomach is quite at rest, no heartburn,
no pain, no distention."
Popular in society, in the last century, was
Richard Owen Cambridge, who, according to
Madame D'Arblay, had " the best stock of stories
she almost ever heard." He was a total abstainer
from wine, thus setting an example of sobriety to
the hard-working squires in his neighbourhood,
a feature of his character to which Lord Chester
field thus refers : — " Cantabrigius," writes his
lordship, in a paper deprecatory of intemperance,
" drinks nothing but water, and rides more miles
in a year than the keenest sportsman. The former
keeps his head clear, the latter his body in
health. His penetration makes him discover, and
divest himself of the follies of mankind, which
his wit enables him to expose with the truest
ridicule, though always without personal offence."

1 24 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
The clever essayist, and deep thinker, John
Foster, was a water-drinker, the value of which
beverage he was always ready to extol. Writing
to those whose welfare he had at heart, he says :
" If I were with you I should set you an example
of temperance which you would find it a piece of
self-denial to imitate. I still possess what may
be called invariable health ; my diet continues of
the same inexpensive kind; water is still my
drink. I congratulate myself on the superiority
in this respect which I possess, in a season of
difficulty, over many that I see. I could, if neces
sary, live with philosophic complacency on bread
and water, on herbs, or on sour milk with the
Tartars." In spite of his abstemious habits, John
Foster reached his seventy-third year, and when
failing health prevented his preaching, he employed
himself chiefly in preparing works for the press.
Like Foster, Matthew Henry, the distinguished
commentator, abstained from all intoxicating
liquors, and strongly enjoined others on Christian
principles to do the same, urging them " not to
eat anything that cometh of the vine, ' from the
kernel to the husk.' "
The great philanthropist, John Howard, in
advising the entire prohibition of all intoxicating
liquors in prisons as fraught with benefit, thus
wrote : — " I am satisfied my ideas are contrary to
the present fashionable mode of prescriptions.

WATER.DRINKING. 125
which I am persuaded confirms th© habit of
drinking strong liquors, both in town and coun
try, but may I not hope that the opinions of
medical gentlemen will in time alter as much
upon this subject, as I have seen in their treatment
of the small-pox."
In opposition to Dr. Johnson's gradation of
liquors, " claret for boys, port for men, brandy
for heroes," Edmund Burke one day caused
merriment by saying, " give me claret, for I like
to be a boy, and partake of the honest hilarity of
youth." But, at a later period of life, especially
when exhausted by mental exertion, or attacks of
indigestion arising from close application, he
was accustomed to take large quantities of water
as hot as could be drank ; — " warm water," said
he, " sickens, but hot water stimulates." In
allusion partly to this habit, says Mr. Prior,*
"the writer of a piece in imitation of 'Retalia
tion,' who applies the different kinds of wine, as
Goldsmith had done dishes, to his characters — as
port to Johnson, champagne to Garrick, burgundy
to Reynolds, says of the orator : —
" To Burke a pure libation bring.
Fresh drawn from pure Castalian spring ;
With true oak the goblet bind.
Fit emblem of his patriot mind ;
Let Clio as his taster sip.
And Hermes hand it to his lip."
* " Life of Burke," 1854,469-70.

126 GREAT MEN AT PLA Y.
Richard Cobden was another water-drinker,
and a somewhat enthusiastic advocate of temper
ance, for he says : — " Nobody has more faith than
I have in the truth of the teetotal doctrine, both
in a physical, and moral point of view. I have
acted upon the principle that fermented and dis
tilled drinks are useless for sustaining strength,
and the more work I have had to do the more I
have resorted to the pump and teapot. As for the
moral bearings of the question, it is scarcely an
exaggeration to say that all other reforms together
would fail to confer as great blessings upon the
community, as that of weaning them from intoxi
cating drinks." Indeed, how strong Cobden's
feelings were on the subject may be gathered
from the following letter : —
" Every day's experience tends, more and more,
to confirm me in my opinion that the temperance
cause lies at the foundation of all social, and
political, reform. It is vain to seek, by the exten
sion of the franchise, or by free trade, or by any
other means, to elevate the labouring masses.
In fact, their destiny is in their own hands, and
they will, as a class, be elevated or depressed in
the social scale in proportion to the extent of
their virtues or vices. They are, therefore, the
truest friends of the working millions who are
labouring in the cause of temperance, and it is a

WATER-DRINKING. 127
gratifying fact that the ablest, and most persever
ing, of its advocates have been found amongst
their ranks."
Like Cobden, John Bright was a total abstainer,
and was proud of drinking the health of his
friends in a beverage which he would boastingly
bring to the notice of those present as much more
ancient than wine, and much more wholesome.
But he never marred the enjoyments of others
who did not think as himself, and was always
ready to indulge in some happy, and good-natured,
remark. Although the table of Warren Hastings was
always supplied with the most delicate viands,
his own diet was simple in the extreme. He was
a great water-drinker, and so fastidious in the
quality of the beverage that he would send for it
when " in London from a considerable distance to
the spring near the barracks adjoining Kensington
Gardens." * Indeed, it is said that he enjoyed a
glass of good water more than anything else, and
that while those around him were drinking expen
sive wines, he would equally rehsh his simple
beverage. Haydon, the painter, tells us in his "Auto
biography " that Sir Francis Burdett was
generally the picture of health. " I asked him,"
* " Memoirs of Warren Hastings," iii., 542.

128 GREAT MEN AT PLA Y.
he says, " if he lived in any particular manner.
He said never. He used the bath, not regularly,
but often, drank no wine, except when he dined
out, and was always better without it. He did
not live by rule, and conformed to society, but
frequent baths, no wine, and hunting agreed with
him." Haydon further gives us his experience at a
Birmingham party, where all present were water-
drinkers. He says : — " Dined at dear honest
John Sturge's, and spent a very pleasant evening.
They were all teetotalers except me, and John
Sturge. I could not have believed so pleasant an
evening could have passed without a glass of
port. At the conclusion I took one glass, and
that was all." But he takes care to add — " I felt
weak on arriving home, and ordered my negus."
Cobbett was a warm temperance advocate, and
has given us a somewhat amusing, but severe,
summary of his views of after-dinner drinking.
" A man that cannot pass an evening without
drink," he says, " merits the name of a sot.
Why should there be drink for the purpose of
carrying on conversation ? Women stand in need
of no drink to stimulate them to converse, and I
have a thousand times admired their patience in
sitting quietly at their work, while their husbands
are engaged in the same room with bottles, and

WATER-DRINKING. 129
glasses, before them, thinking nothing of the
expense, and still less of the shame, which the
distinction reflects upon them. We have to
thank the women for many things, and particu
larly for their strictly sober habits. Men drive
them from the table as if they said to them, ' You
have had enough ; food is sufficient for you. But
we must remain to fill ourselves with drink, and
to talk in language which your ears ought not to
endure.' When women are getting up to retire
from the table, men rise in honour of them ; but
they take special care not to follow their excellent
example. The practice has been ascribed to a
desire to leave them to themselves. But why
should they be left to themselves ? Their con
versation is always the most lively, while their
persons are generally the most agreeable objects.
I like to see young men especially follow them
out of the room, and prefer their company to that
of the sots who are left behind."
"In the midst of a society," further writes
William Cobbett, " where wine or spirits are
considered of a little more value than water, I
have lived two years without either, and with no
other drink than water except when I found it
convenient to obtain milk. Not an hour's illness,
not a headache for an hour, not the smallest
ailment, not a restless night, not a drowsy morn-
VOL. II. ^

130 GREAT MEN AT PLAY.
ing, have I known during these two famous years
of my life."
Erasmus Darwin had a violent aversion to
spirits of any kind. It was the general opinion
at the time of his death that a glass of brandy
might have saved his life, for its effect would have
been specially effective from his utter disuse of
spirits. But such, indeed, was the abhorrence in
which he held them that it is probable no
entreaties could have induced him to swallow
even a small quantity medicinally, although such
a dose might have proved restoring.*
Another illustrious advocate of abstinence was
General Havelock, who, from the time when he
was a captain in the 13th Light Infantry, took a
warm interest in the promotion of temperance
among the English soldiers in India. In his
" Narrative of the War in Afghanistan " he gives
an interesting account of the noble conduct of the
troops engaged in the storming of Ghuznee, which,
he tells us, may in " a great degree be attributed
to the fact of the European soldiers having
received no spirit rations since the 8th of July
(the place was captured on the 23rd), and having
found no intoxicating liquor among the plunder
of Ghuznee. Since then it has been found that
troops can make forced marches of fifty miles
* See " Annual Register," 1804, 789.

WATER-DRINKING. 131
without the aid of rum, behaving after success
with a forbearance and humanity unparalleled in
history. Let it not henceforth be argued that
distilled spirits are an indispensable portion of a
soldier's ration." It may be added that Havelock
continued to maintain his temperance principles,
and, although in the advance of Cawnpore he
ordered porter to be served to the troops after an
exhausting march, and long fast, and in the
presence of a numerous foe, the issue of the
experiment was so unsatisfactory that the order
was not renewed.
Then there was the famous defender of Gibral
tar, General Elliott (afterwards Lord Heathfield),
who abstained from alcoholic liquors. And
General Sir W. F. Williams, the hero of Kars,
thus gives his experience : — " I am indebted to a
gracious Providence for preservation in very
unhealthy climates ; but I am satisfied that a
resolution, early formed and steadily persevered
in, never to take spirituous liquors, has been a
means of my escaping diseases by which multi
tudes have fallen around me. Had not the
Turkish army of Kars been literally ' a cold water
army,' I am persuaded they never would have
performed the achievements which crowned them
with glory."
Valuable and interesting is the testimony of

132 GREA T MEN AT PLA Y.
General Sir Richard Dacres as to his water-
drinking experiences : — " Since I have become a
teetotaler I have gone through great fatigue in
hot climates. I have crossed the Atlantic, come
here to the Crimea, been exposed to disease and
some discomfort, and I have never been sick, or
had even a short attack of diarrhoea. I ascribe
this to water. But I am a temperate eater also.
What I began with as an example I now continue,
as I consider I am much better without beer,
wine, etc., both in a religious and worldly point
of view, and I shall continue as I am to my life's
end." As is well known, John Wesley was a man of
more than ordinary self-denial and abstinence,
and a passage in one of his sermons informs us
that for three or four years he lived upon potatoes
alone. Although, as has been stated, he advised
preachers, after the fatigues of a day's work, to
take a little warm ale before going to bed, he was
a habitual water-drinker himself. Amoner the-
rules of health which he enjoined may be quoted
the subjoined: — "Water is the wholesomest of
all drinks, quickens the appetite, and strengthens
the digestion most. Strong, and more especially
spirituous, liquors are a certain, though slow,
poison. Experience shows there is seldom any
danger in leaving them off all at once." Anyhow,
Wesley lived to a good old age, and the continued

WATER.DRINKING. 133
practice of water-drinking evidently suited him,
for it was not till the eighty-fifth year of his age
that he perceived any diminution of strength,
cither of body or mind. Arrived at this age he
writes : — " I am not so agile as I was in times
past. I do not run or walk so fast as I did. My
sight is a little decayed. I find some little decay
in my memory, but I do not find any decay in my
hearing, smell, taste, or appetite, nor do I feel
any such thing as weariness, either in travelling
or preaching." It is not surprising that Wesley
has been often quoted as a striking instance of a
man, who was an ascetic as far as the luxuries of
life were concerned.
Chatterton, as already noticed, was temperate
even to abstemiousness in food as well as in
drink, and oftentimes carried his abstinence
to a dangerous extent. The same peculiarity
was noticeable in his early life, when occasionally
he would neglect both food and drink in the
pursuit of knowledge. At times, it is said,
he became so absorbed in his studies as to lose
consciousness of all that was going on around
him, and, after being repeatedly addressed, would
start and ask what they were talking about.
Such moody abstractions were, we are told, " but
the preoccupation of his mind with some great
pregnant thought."* * " Chatterton," Daniel Wilson, 217.

1 34 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
Dr. Pye Smith, the eminent writer on Scrip
tural geological subjects, was an ultra abstainer
during the latter part of his life. To a friend
from whom he received a present of wine, intended
to invigorate his health, he wrote the following
letter : — " It would be rude and ungrateful to me
to decline receiving your very kind present, for
which I return my respectful thanks, and, I assur©
you that, if the time should ever arrive when the
use of wine shall be prescribed to me as a tonic,
or upon any other sound medical principle, I
shall employ the sherry of extraordinary excellence
with an especial recollection of your generosity.
" But this your kindness lays me under a
necessity of acknowledging that I have for more
than seven years seen it my duty to abstain not
only from spirits, but from wine and malt liquors,
for several reasons. It is not spirits only, but
other inebriating beverages, which work such
awful ruin upon all classes of the British popula
tion, bringing down to temporal and eternal ruin
countless thousands of our countrymen. Health,
and strength, and length of life, are more probably
maintained by totally refraining from these sub
stances than by any using of them . Of course,
where they are medicinally needful they ought to
be used, but as medicine, and not habitually."
But as time went on Dr. Pye Smith became

WATER-DRINKING. 135
more rigid in his views, and the following anec
dote is told of his last illness : — "His inflexible
habit of abstinence yielded not. He might be
said to exemplify ' the ruling passion strong in
death.' A medical friend, on perceiving a rapid
diminution of power, recommended a slight
infusion of brandy in the water beverage. This
proposal being conveyed by writing to the eye of
the doctor, he turned to his wife and emphatically
said, ' '^ever, my dear. I charge you, if such remedy
be proposed when I am incompetent to refuse,
let me rather die than swallow the liquid.' "*
Wordsworth, who avowed himself to be " a
simple water-drinking bard," was a man who was
equally plain in his fare and very unlike the poets
before and after his time. Even Sir Walter Scott
(whose sober habits have been incidentally alluded
to in the previous chapter), when staying with
Wordsworth at Rydal Mount, had not unfre-
quently to hie him to the nearest public-house.
And yet Wordsworth could give a graphic picture
of the effect of wine; and, as Mr. Myers has
observed in his monograph on the poet, " the
poet of the ' Waggoner ' " — who, himself an
habitual water-drinker, has so gloriously described
the glorification which the prospect of nature
receives in a half -intoxicated brain — " may justly
claim that he can enter into all genuine pleasures
* See " Medway's Memoirs."

136 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
even of an order which he declines for himself.
With anything that is false or artificial he cannot
sympathize, nor with such faults as baseness,
cruelty, rancour, which seem contrary to human
nature itself; but in deabng with faults of mere
weakness he is far less strait-laced than many less
virtuous men."
According to Bishop Newton, William Warbur
ton, Bishop of Gloucester, was so devoted to his
studies as to deny himself most indulgences, and
hence became " a singular example, not only of
temperance, but even of abstinence, in eating and
drinking ;" and yet, he adds, " his spirits were
not lowered or exhausted, but were rather raised
and increased by his low living." Although at
one time of his life he speaks of having diminished
his care for eating and drinking, he was always
noted for his temperance ; but he is supposed, by
his extraordinary application in early life, to have
laid the foundation " of his subsequent giddiness
and premature decay of intellect."
In spite of his arduous life. Dr. Livingstone was
a water-drinker. " I have acted on the principle
of total abstinence," he was wont to say, "from
all alcoholic liquors during more than twenty
years. My individual opinion is that the most
severe labours or privations may be undergone
without alcoholic stimulus, because those of us

WATER-DRINKING. 137
who have endured the most had nothing else than
water, and not always enough of that."
Although Samuel Morley had always regarded
intemperance as an unmitigated evil, and from
his youth up had never lost an opportunity of
recommending not only temperance, but total
abstinence, especially to working men, he had not
been a total abstainer himself. But, about the
year 1857, he was addressing a large meeting of
working men, and was pressing upon them the
importance of being total abstainers, when a
labouring man rose up and, interrupting him in
his speech, said — " Do you go without yourself?
I dare say, if the truth's known, you take your
glass or two of wine after dinner and think no harm
of it. Now, sir, do you go without yourself?"
" This rather shut me up for an instant," said
Mr. Morley, when telling the story, " but when I
looked round at those poor fellows whom I had
been asking to give up what they regarded — no
matter how erroneously — as their only luxury, I
had my answer ready pretty quickly. 'No,' I
said, ' but I will go without from this hour.' "
From that time forth he never touched wine or
any other intoxicating beverage again except for
a short period after an illness and under impera
tive orders from his physician.* " As a matter
* " Life of Samuel Morley," E. Hodder, 139-40.

138 GREAT MEN AT PLA Y.
of fact," adds Mr. Hodder, " Samuel Morley had
never been in the habit of taking his glass or two
of wine after dinner, but an occasional glass with
his meals he enjoyed, and was under the impres
sion that it did him good."
The cause which induced Dr. Guthrie to become
a total abstainer was unexpected, and is one of
those striking instances of how the most unlooked
for events have occasionally influenced many a
human life. " In a journey in Ireland in 1840,"
to quote his own story, " the weather was cold
with a lashing rain. By the time we reached a
small inn we were soaking with water outside, and
as those were the days not of tea and toast, but
of toddy drinking, we thought the best way was
to soak ourselves with whisky inside. Accord
ingly we rushed into the inn, ordered warm water,
and got our tumblers of toddy. Out of kindness
to the car-driver, we called him in. He was not
very well clothed ; indeed, he rather belonged in
that respect to the order of my ragged school in
Edinburgh. He was soaking with wet, and we
offered him a good rummer of toddy. We
thought that what was ' sauce for the goose was
sauce for the gander ;' but the car-driver was not
such a gander as we, like geese, took him for.
He would not taste it.
" ' Why,' we asked, ' what objection have you
got?'

WATER-DRINKING. 139
" Said he, ' Please your riv'rence, I am a
teetotaler, and I won't taste a drop of it.'
" Well, that stuck in my throat, and went (in
another sense than drink, though) to my head.
Here was a humble, uneducated Roman Catholic
carman. ' Oh,' I said, ' if that man can deny
himself this indulgence, why should not I, a
Christian minister ? ' I remembered that, and I
have ever remembered it to the honour of Ireland.
I have often told the story, and thought of the
example set by that poor Irishman for our people
to follow. I carried home the remembrance of it
with me to Edinburgh. That circumstance, along
with the scenes in which I was called to labour
daily for years, made me a teetotaler."*
His missionary labour among the lapsed classes
of Dalkeith in duced Norman Macleod to take up
seriously the drink question. Drunkenness he
found was, as usual, the root-evil of most of the
misery, and he strained every effort to grapple
with its power. H© did not join any temperance
society, but, in order to help those he was trying
to reform, he entered with them for a considerable
time into a compact of total abstinence. The
result of these experiences, it may be remembered,
he afterwards gave to the public in a tract
entitled " A Plea for Temperance."
In his drinking habits Horne Tooke was
* " Life of Rev. Dr. Guthrie."

140 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
decidedly eccentric. Sometimes he confined him
self for a whole month to water, and then would
descant in eloquent terms on the advantages to
be derived by those who drank freely of the pure
and unadulterated element. At such times he
would boast of his early abstemiousness in the
language of Shakespeare —
In my youth I never did apply
Hot and rebellious liquors to my blood ;
******
Therefore my age is as a lusty winter —
Frosty, but kindly.*
Indeed, in his extreme moments of sobriety,t
he would violently exclaim against wine, and
indulge in commendations of Mahomet, who, with
a code infinitely inferior to that of Christianity,
had been fortunate enough to prohibit and prevent
two great evils of society — drunkenness and
gaming. If his own language was not powerful
to convince, he would quote from " Othello "
(Act ii., sc. 3) — " 0 thou invisible spirit of wine,
if thou hast no name, let us call thee devil 1 0
that men should put an enemy in their mouths to
steal away their brains ! That we should, with
joy, revel, pleasure, and applause, transform
ourselves into beasts !"
But by a strange contradiction at another time
he would be just as eloquent in the praise of wine,
* "As You Like It," Act ii., sc. 3.
t " Life of John Horne Tooke," A. Stephens, ii., 453-4.

WATER.DRINKING. 141
finding classical authority for its use and enjoy
ment, and would ask what was the good of fortune
without wine ? He would then maintain that
"two excellent poets, -^schylus and Buchanan,
could never write verses without being stimulated
by the juice of the grape, that the lyric poet
Alc^us was denominated after his favourite
pursuit, that Homer freely recommends this
species of indulgence in his immortal lines, and
that old Ennius found himself incapacitated with
out it." Anyhow, the example of Ennius had but
one recommendation, for he is supposed to have
died of the gout in consequence of his frequent
intoxication. But, in justice to Horne Tooke, it
should be stated that for many years before his
death he became extremely abstemious.
Among further water-drinkers may be men
tioned John Dalton and the late Professor
Rolleston, who took an active part in the
temperance movement.
When about fifty-six years of age George
Cruikshank became an abstainer, and henceforth
devoted himself with all the energies of his nature
to the duty of advocating, by his pencil and his
practice, the cause of total abstinence. He had
still thirty years to live, and in the enthusiasm of
his new creed he " too often weighted his produc
tions with an unpalatable moral."* Thus in the
* "Diet of National Biography," xiii., 256.

1 42 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
" Fairy Library " (published in 1858-4), a series
of books in which he endeavoured to repeat the
earlier successes of his illustrations to Grimm, he
turned the time- honoured stories into " temper
ance tales " — a step which not unnaturally provoked
the criticism of an old friend and admirer, Charles
Dickens, who, in " Household Words," warmly re
monstrated against these "Frauds on the Fairies."
Dickens asks what would become of our
great books if this kind of liberty were to be
tolerated ? " Imagine a total abstinence edition
of ' Robinson Crusoe,' with the rum left out.
Imagine a peace edition with the gunpowder left
out and the rum lefl; in. Imagine a vegetarian
edition with the goat's flesh left out. Imagine a
Kentucky edition to introduce a flogging of that
'tarnal old nigger Friday twice a week. Imagine
an Aborigines Protection Society edition to deny
the cannibalism, and make Robinson Crusoe
embrace the amiable savages whenever they
landed. Robinson would be edited out of his
island in a hundred years, and the island would
be swallowed up in the editorial ocean."
Poor George Cruikshank could not but smart
from the effects of Dickens's article, but he was
not the man to feel a blow and sit down under it.
He persevered in advocating, by all the talent and
originality he possessed, the total abstinence

WATER-DRINKING. 143
movement, and the many clever cartoons he
drew on the subject are too well known to need
more than incidental mention here. But temper
ance did not spoil him, for even at eighty he was
as ready to dance a hornpipe as to sing his
favourite ballad of " Lord Bateman " in character
for the benefit of his friends, and he never tired
of dilating on the advantages of water- drinking.
"He was," says one who knew him well, "to sum
up, a light-hearted, merry, and, albeit a teetotaler,
an essentially jolly old gentleman, full physically
of humorous action, imitatively illustrating the
anecdotes he related."

CHAPTER V.
SMOKING HABITS.
Lord Lytton — Archbishop Whately — Lord Clarendon — Lord
Brougham — Lord Beaconsfield — Lord John Russell —
Duke of Bridgewater — Lord Morpeth — Duke of Devonshire
¦ — Sir James Outram — David Cox — Captain Marryat —
Thomas Campbell — T. Moore — Fielding— Addison — Sir
Walter Scott — Charles Lamb — Dr. Parr — Dean Aldrich
— Rev. Robert Hall — Douglas Jerrold — Professor Wilson
— John Gibson Lockhart — John Dalton — Lord Byron —
Henry Fawcett — Thackeray — Edmund Kean — Charles
Dickens — Thomas Henry Buckle — Charles Kingsley —
Thomas Carlyle ¦ — • Charles Darwin — Lord Westbury —
John Bright — Cowper — Shelley — Wordsworth — Keats —
Thomas Fuller — Dr. Adam Clarke — Dr. Johnson.
According to the late Lord Lytton, "he who doth
not smoke hath either known no great griefs, or
refuseth himself the softest consolation next to
that which comes from heaven." Exaggerated
as this statement may be, it must be acknow
ledged that there are few habits which for
popularity can be compared to smokino- in our
own and other countries. Indeed, it has been

SMOKING HABITS. 145
remarked that it embraces the circumference of
the globe, from the savage to the most refined,
and includes every climate from Siberia to the
Equator, and from the Equator to the extreme
South. As a sedative for over brain- work,
tobacco has naturally been popular among our
leading men, having found numerous advocates
among the dignitaries of the Church, in addition
to having afforded a comforting and cheering
solace to soldier, and sailor, when called upon to
submit to many a severe privation. Thus, speak
ing of the clergy, it may be noticed that the first
episcopal smoker in this country was Dr. Richard
Fletcher, successively Bishop of Worcester,
Bristol, and London, and who was specially
selected to attend on Mary Queen of Scots, at
Fotheringay, on the day of her execution, Feb. 8,
1587. From one account we learn that his death
resulted from his "immoderate taking of tobacco."
Archbishop Laud was accused by the Puritans of
being too fond of smoking; and, coming down to
later times. Archbishop Whately was a great
smoker, his pipe, when its little volcano was
extinct, serving him for a book-marker. In
summer-time he might be seen of an evening in
St. Stephen's Green enjoying his pipe, often
meanwhile engaged in earnest thought.* Fre-
* See Fitzpatrick's " Memoirs of Archbishop Whately."
VOL. II. Ii

146 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
quently, too, in winter he was in the habit of
walking along the Donnybrook Road smoking
vigorously, his dogs occasionally accompanying
him in his constitutional strolls.
In the death of Lord Clarendon, in 1870,
society lost a most enthusiastic patron of the
" weed." During his official business he generally
smoked ; and the Foreign Office, while he was
there, was always pervaded with a strong aroma
of cigars. In fact, he indulged in his favourite
habit all day and almost all night, for his
despatches were frequently written between mid
night and daybreak. The journals of the day did
not fail to allude to his fondness for smoke, and
in a society paper (the Period) was published an
amusing fancy sketch of a Cabinet Council
meeting, at which the following desultory talk
was supposed to have taken place : —
The First Lord of the Treasury : " Our con
versation grows frivolous and flippant. I object
to allusions to Lothair ; it is a book which Mr.
Goldwin Smith disapproves, and so do I. Its
author, in my opinion, is an unscrupulous
caricaturist." The Foreign Secretary : " Yes, being a leading
politician, he should have written a homily on
Homer, or an exegesis of Exodus. But do you
know what literary work I have in progress ?

SMOKING HABITS. 147
Murray has offered twenty thousand pounds for
it. The Privy Seal : " I had no idea publishers
were so liberal. I shall certainly publish my
reminiscences." The Postmaster : " I certainly would. But tell
us. Clarendon, what's your subject ? "
The Foreign Secretary : " Tobacco and tobacco
nists of all nations. Diplomacy is entirely a
question of the weed. I can always settle a
question if I know beforehand whether the
plenipotentiary smokes cavendish, or Latakia, or
shag. Tobacco, as a key to diplomacy, is my
theme." Lord Brougham found smoking an invaluable
relief amidst his busy labours. On leaving the
Court of King's Bench, he would take one pipe
before going to the House of Commons, where,
after having spoken for two or three hours,
charming his hearers by his glow of wit and
wisdom, he would return home, smoking another
pipe before composing himself to write an article
for the Edinburgh Review. But, it was asserted
that, on donning his Court suit at his first levee
as Lord Chancellor, he laid aside for ever the
pipe that hitherto had served him so well.
In his youth, the Earl of Beaconsfield loved the
long pipe, and, in one of his letters written to

148 GREAT MEN AT PLAY.
his brother (Ralph Disraeli), in the year 1830,
from Malta, he says : —
" Mashallah ! Here I am sitting in an easy
chair, with a Turkish pipe six feet long, with an
amber mouth-piece and a porcelain bowl. What
a revolution ! But what if I tell you that I not
only have become a smoker, but the greatest
smoker in Malta. The fact is that I find it
relieves my head. Barrow,* who is here in the
' Blonde,' is a most knowing young lieutenant. He
informed me the other night (after dinner) he
was sure to be made a captain in eighteen months,
irresistibly reminding me of John Falconer in
' Patronage '; has given me a meerschaum, and
Anstruther a most splendid Dresden green china,
set in silver, an extremely valuable pipe, but
there is nothing like a meerschaum."
An amusing anecdote is told of Lord John
Russell, who gave a large reception, to which
Mr. Alfred Tennyson was invited. During the
evening his lordship, walking amongst his guests,
recognized Mr. Tennyson.
" Mr. Tennyson, how d'ye do ? Glad to see you.
You've been travelling in Europe lately, I hear.
How did you like Venice ? Fine things to be seen
in Venice. Did you visit the Bridge of Sighs ? "
* Younger son of Sir George Barrow, a Secretary of the
Admiralty.

SMOKING HABITS. 149
" Yes, my lord."
" And saw all the pictures and works of art in
that wonderful city, did you not ? "
" I didn't like Venice, my lord."
" Indeed ! Why not, Mr. Tennyson ?"
" They had no good cigars there, my lord, and
I left the place in disgust."
" Indeed ! Good evening, Mr. Tennyson."
The Duke of Bridgewater was a great smoker,
and smoked far more than he talked. Smoking
was his principal evening's occupation when
Brindley and Gilbert were pondering with him
over the difficulty of raising funds to complete
the navigation ; and the Duke continued his
solitary enjoyment through life. One of the droll
habits to which he was addicted was that of
rushing out of the room every five minutes,
with his pipe in his mouth, to look at the
barometer.* But, it should be remembered that, in years
gone by, tobacco was not in fashion as it is now
adays, and hence not generally patronized by the
upper ten thousand. " Thus one day," writes Lord
William Lennox," when walking with Lord Morpeth
in Piccadilly during a foggy day in November, we
met the Duke of Devonshire, and, to my great
surprise, with a cigar in his mouth. At this
* Smiles' "Lives of the Engineers," i., 412.

150 GREAT MEN AT PLAY.
moment Alvanley approached us, and, looking
round at the Duke, said —
"'What! his Grace indulging in a mild
Havannah ? '
" ' Yes,' Morpeth replied, ' his doctor has
recommended it on foggy days.'
" ' All very well,' responded the wit, ' so long
as he does not take to what is called the Virginian
weed. Should he indulge in cavendish we should
have to " cut Cavendish " !' "*
Although abstemious and regular in his mode
of life. Sir James Outram was an inveterate
smoker, and Sir F. J. Goldsmidf says that he
" never knew any man smoke more than he did ;
it no doubt did him harm, and was the only point
on which w© did not agree."
David Cox, whose life was one of simplicity
and moderation, rarely omitted to smoke his half
cigar, after which " it was his happiness to have
his colour-box out, or, if by artificial light,
generally his sepia, and setting to work, would
make one or two spirited drawings in the course
of the evening." During, too, the many years he
made Bettwys-y-Coed his head-quarters, he would
often spend his evening in the parlour of the
Royal Oak Inn, which in those days was an
* " Celebrities I have known," i., 148.
t " Biography of James Outram," ii., 406.

SMOKING HABITS. 151
artists' club without any conventionality. Here
he would take his cigar — for he never smoked a
pipe — and his pint of ale. " There was no racket,
no shouting, no fastness, or slang," writes Mr.
Solly,* " it was an intelligent, rational, pleasant
evening's amusement."
Captain Marryat was not a great smoker, only
now and then indulging himself with a cigar,
but More much enjoyed his quiet whiff. Fielding
was not content to smoke, but chewed, tobacco ;
and Addison, a great smoker, had a pipe in his
mouth at all times at Button's.
After a somewhat eccentric fashion, George
Morland, th© artist, used to enjoy his pipe.
There was an inn at Highgate,t a favourite resort
of his, " where the princes and sovereign judges
of the whip generally stopped upon their return
from the country to refresh themselves and their
horses ; here Morland used regularly to take his
stand, and here, indeed, he was completely at
home." Frequently, too, with a pipe in his
mouth, he would parade before the door of the
house and hail the carriages as they passed in
succession before him, and, " from being so well
known, he was generally greeted in return by a
familiar salute from the postillion."
* "Life of David Cox," 1873, 172.
t See Hassell's Memoirs of, 28.

152 GREAT MEN AT PLA Y.
Sir Walter Scott smoked in his carriage, and
regularly after dinner, loving both pipes and
cigars ; and Thomas Campbell was a great lover
of the " weed," and Beattie, his biographer,
describes his lumbered room, " tobacco pipes,
mingled with the literary wares, etc."
According to his own confession, Charles Lamb
was "a fierce smoker of tobacco," but as he
advanced in years he partially abandoned the
habit, and describes himself as resembling " a
volcano burnt out, emitting now and then only a
casual puff." To throw off a habit he so dearly
loved was a hard struggle, and in spite of many
resolutions he was frequently lured back by its
enchantments. Eventually, finding that his
health required him to make a sacrifice of what
was perhaps his greatest pleasure, he took his
formal leave in a " Farewell Ode to Tobacco,"
and, in sending a copy of the poem to Words
worth, he writes — " I have had it in my head to do
it these two years, but tobacco stood in its own
light when it gave me headaches that prevented
my singing its praises. Now that you have got
it you have got all my store, for I have absolutely
not another line yet." Although severing his
connection with tobacco, from necessity rather
than choice. Lamb still continued as staunch a
friend of it as in years past, and no doubt often

SMOKING HABITS. 153
silently longed for the old days when it had been
his chief solace in hours clouded with anxious
care and sorrow. Some have regarded his
valedictory ode as the best offering of the muse
at the shrine of tobacco, to which is added an
additional interest when we reflect that it was
written under a full sense of its truth, the style
of which may be gathered from the closing
lines : —For I must (nor let it grieve thee.
Friendliest of plants, that I must) leave thee;
For thy sake, Tobacco, I
Would do anything but die.
And but seek to extend my days
Long enough to sing thy praise.
But, as she who once hath been
A king's consort, is a queen
Ever after, nor will bate
Any tittle of her state,
Though a widow, or divorced.
So I, from thy converse forced,
The old style and name retain,
A right Katherine of Spain,
And a seat, too, 'mongst the joys
Of the blest tobacco boys.
Here, though I by sour physician
Am debarr'd the full fruition
Of thy favours, I may catch
Some collateral sweets, and snatch
Side-long odours that give life
Like glances from a neighbour's wife.
And still live in the bye-places.
And the suburbs of thy graces.
And in thy borders take delight
And unconquer'd Canaanite.

154 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
In his smoking days Lamb was no epicure in
the choice of his tobacco, indulging in the
coarsest and strongest kinds. On on© occasion,
when Dr. Parr — who used only the finest tobacco
— saw Lamb puffing furiously away with the
strongest tobacco, he quietly laid down his pipe
and asked him how he could smoke at such a rate ?
But Lamb coolly and laconically replied, " I
toiled after it, sir, as some men toil after virtue."
This is only on© of the many well-known
anecdotes related of Dr. Parr, whose love of
tobacco has long since become proverbial. One
evening he was to dine at the house of a certain
friend who previously informed his wife of the
doctor's passion for his pipe. The lady was much
mortified by this intimation, and indignantly
replied —
" I tell you I don't care a fig for Dr. Parr's
Greek ; he shan't smoke here."
" My dear," answered her husband, " he must
smoke ; he is allowed to do so everywhere."
" Excuse me, he shall not smoke here. Leave
it to me, my dear, I'll manage it."
The dinner was served, and in due course th©
doctor called for pipes.
" Pipes !" screamed the good lady in apparent
astonishment, " pipes 1 for what purpose ? "
" Why, to smoke, madam."

SMOKING HABITS. 155
" Oh, my dear doctor, I can't have pipes here.
You'll spoil my room. My curtains will smell of
tobacco for a week."
"Not smoke!" exclaimed the angry doctor;
" why, madam, I have smoked in better houses."
" Perhaps so, sir," replied the lady, calmly,
adding, "I shall be most happy to show you the
rites of hospitality, but you cannot be allowed to
smoke." " Then, madam," said Dr. Parr, "then, madam,
I must say, madam — "
" Sir ! sir ! are you going to be rude ? "
"I must say, madam," he continued, "you are
the greatest tobacco-stopper in all England."
This retort produced a loud laugh, after which
he retired to enjoy the pleasures of his pipe. On
the other hand, he often represented, as an
instance of the homage which rank and beauty
delight to pay to talent and learning, that ladies
of the highest rank condescended to the office of
lighting his pipe. He further used to tell how,
when once honoured by an invitation to dinner at
Carlton House, the Prince of Wales insisted upon
his taking his pipe as usual. As a guest, too, he was
frequently entertained by the Duke of Sussex, who
showed his thoughtful condescension by not only
allowing him to smoke, but by smoking with him.
It was in the company of Dr. Parr that the

156 GREAT MEN AT PLA Y.
Rev. Robert Hall, famous as a scholar and
preacher, learnt to smoke. On being found one
day by an astonished friend blowing an immense
cloud of smoke, he calmly replied, " 0, I am only
qualifying myself for the society of a Doctor
of Divinity, and this " (holding up his pipe) " is my
test of admission." A member of his congrega
tion tried to expostulate with him as to the
injurious effects of this habit, and left with him
a copy of Dr. Adam Clarke's pamphlet " On the
Use and Abuse of Tobacco." But in a few days
it was returned with this message — " Thank you,
sir, for Adam Clarke's pamphlet. I can't refute
his arguments, and I can't give up smoking."
Dean Aldrich's passion for smoking is illustrated
by the well-known story of a student, who betted
that he would find him smoking at ten o'clock in
the morning, and who lost the bet because Aldrich
was not smoking, but filling his pipe. It may be
remembered that his famous smoking catch first
appeared in the " Pleasant Musical Companion "
(1726), to be sung by four men smoking their pipes,
but more difficult to sing than diverting to hear.
Greatly did John Dalton enjoy a pipe after his
heavy day's work in the class-room or laboratory,
or, when taking his well-earned weekly holiday
with the Bowling Club, at the County Tavern, his
colloquial faculty being at its very best when over
a pipe of tobacco. Oftentimes when, on account

SMOKING HABITS. 157
of his colour-blindness, he was prevented joining
in a rubber — not knowing a king of spades from
a knave of hearts — he would sit and talk, blowing
his big cloud from the fragrant weed. He was,
in truth, a thorough smoker, and seems to have
had a feeling almost bordering on contempt for
those who did not appreciate tobacco. Thus in
his correspondence he tells us of his introduction
to Mr. Davy (afterwards Sir Humphry), and
that he found him " a very agreeable and intelli
gent young man," but he presently adds that
" the principal failing in his character is that he
does not smoke." He speaks of a visit to Dr.
Rees, "that worthy philosopher of the old school,"
and notes with satisfaction that " his evening lucu
brations are duly scented with genuine Virginia.''
Lord Byron was an enthusiastic admirer of
" sublime tobacco," and wrote a panegyric in its
praise,* telling us how it — From East to West,
Cheers the tar's labours or the Turkman's rest.
Which on the Moslem's ottoman divides
His hours, and rivals opium and his brides;
Magnificent in Stamhoul, but less grand,
Though not less loved, in Wapping or the Strand ;
Divine in hookahs, glorious in a pipe.
When tipp'd with amber, mellow, rich, and ripe —
Like other charmers wooing the caress.
More dazzlingly when daring in full dress,
Yet thy true lovers more admire by far
Thy naked beauties. Give me a cigar !
* " The Island," canto ii., sect. 19.

1 58 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
Douglas Jerrold puffed away in his leisure
moments, and Professor Wilson smoked steadily,
while John Gibson Lockhart was seldom without his
cigar — an indispensable adjunct to his daily life.
When Henry Fawcett lost his eyesight he
" deliberately learnt to smoke as a means of
enjoyment ; he never worshipped tobacco with
the zeal of some devotees, but he thought that it
would help to smooth some weary hours," and in
this belief he was not disappointed. His associa
tions with Cambridge call to mind a visit paid
by Sir J. W. Kaye some years ago to Dr. Whewell
and Professor Sedgwick, when he dined with the
former and took tea with the latter. To quote
his own words : — " We drank some tea, but
conversation flagged. I had heard much of his
fund of anecdote, of his vivid memory and choice
reminiscences, and I was disappointed. But
presently it occurred to me that I had been told
he was a great smoker — an impression which the
pervading odour of his room amply confirmed.
So I said to him, ' I think. Professor, that you
like your pipe in the evening?'
" 'Yes,' he replied; 'do you smoke?'
"I answered, 'I enjoy a smoke.'
" Upon which he got up, brought me a box of
cigars, helped me to take off my dress coat, gave
me a light smoking robe in its place, rang the

SMOKING HABITS. 159
bell, sent away the tea, and called for brandy and
water. Then the talk began in earnest. Each
in an easy chair, we sat for hours — hours that I
shall not easily forget."
Thackeray, who, like many brain-workers, was
more or less subject to fits of depression, found
relief in his cigar. To quote his own words : —
" I vow and believe that , the cigar has been one
of the greatest creature, comforts of my life — a
kind companion, a gentle stimulant, an amiable
anodyne, a cementer of friendship. May I die if
I abuse that kindly weed which has given me so
much pleasure."
It is related by a lady that long before
" Vanity Fair " was thought of, and when he
was only studying how to become a painter,
leading a rollicking artist life in Paris, he
would often rush into the room where she was
sitting, and say, " Polly, lend me a franc for
cigars." The same habit of smoking clung to
him through life, and when, as he tells us, " he
felt anything but gay," the soothing influence of
his pipe gave an additional inspiration to his
humour. Smokers found in him a zealous advo
cate, and in his "Fitzboodle Papers" he jocularly
defends the practice when assailed by the fair
sex. " What is this smoking," he asks, " that it
should be considered a crime ? I believe in my

160 GREAT MEN AT PLA Y.
heart that women are jealous of it as of a rival.
The fact is that the cigar is a rival to the ladies,
and their conqueror, too. Do you suppose you
will conquer ? Look over the wide world, and
see that your adversary has overcome it. Germany
has been puffing for threescore years ; France
smokes to a man. Do you think you can keep
the enemy out of England ? Pshaw ! Look at
his progress. Ask the club-houses. I, for my
part, do not despair to see a bishop lolling out of
the Athen^um with a cheroot in his mouth, or,
at any rate, a pipe stuck in his shovel hat."
But in " Vanity Fair" Becky Sharp, one of th©
cleverest of modern delineators, has the courage
to confess that she likes smoke, and in the
passage below Thackeray has given a skilful
touch of her peculiar trait of character : — " Miss
Sharp loved the smell of a cigar out of doors
beyond everything in the world, and she has just
tasted one, too, in the prettiest way possible, and
gave a little puff, and a little scream, and a little
giggle, and restored the delicacy to the captain,
who twirled his moustache and straightway puffed
it into a blaze that growed quite red in the dark
plantation, and swore, ' Jove — aw ! gad — aw !
It's the finest segaw I ever smoked in the world
—aw 1' "
Many a touching allusion occurs in his works

SMOKING HABITS. 161
to his favourite habit, as, for instance, in the
" Newcomes " : — " ' Give the colonel his pipe,
Clive,' said I. ' Now, sir, down with you in a
sitter's chair, and smoke the sweetest cheroot you
ever smoked in your life. My dear, dear old
Clive, you need not bear with the campaigner any
longer. You may go to bed without this night
mare to-night if you like. You may have your
father under your roof again.' " Charming bits of
pathos of this kind betray the novelist's real
feelings, who was candid enough to confess that
he had smoked up the chimney rather than not
at all.
Of the numerous smoking anecdotes told of
Thackeray by Mr. Frith, in his " Reminiscences,"
we may mention one in connection with " The
Deanery," a club in Dean Street, Soho, the
members being chiefly literary men, artists,
lawyers, and such like : — " My friend and I," he
says, " entered the Deanery smoking-room, and
found a very convivial party, all intimately
acquainted seemingly, listening to a song from a
gentleman called Mahony, who, under the name
of Father Prout, had made himself somewhat
famous. By his side sat a big man, to whom I
was introduced, and I had the honour of a hand
shake by the great Thackeray. Someone called
on him for a song, and he instantly struck up one
VOL. II. M

162 GREAT MEN AT PLAY.
of his own writing, as I was told. No sooner
had the applause accorded to it subsided than
Thackeray turned to me and said —
" ' Now then. Frith, you d — d saturnine young
academician, sing us a song.'
" I was dumb before this address," and, he adds,
"I often met Thackeray afterwards, but I never
gave him an opportunity for renewing his playful
attacks." Edmund Kean loved his cigar to the last, and
a touching anecdote is told of his closing life by
Mr. Hawkins * : — " On one occasion, when it was
thought that his death was only a matter of a few
hours, he, having rallied a little, took advantage
of the absence of those who watched him to get
out of bed, envelop himself with a racoon's skin,
make his way with great difficulty into the
adjoining room, and there to light a cigar. He
was persuaded to return to his bed, and he never
rose from it afterwards.''
Charles Dickens was a smoker, and has left
many entertaining anecdotes of his smokino-
reminiscences during his travels. In the year
1846 he stayed at Lausanne, and, describino- his
cottage (Rosemont), he exclaims : — " As to
bowers for reading and smoking, there are as
many scattered about the grounds as there are
* "Life of Edmund Kean," ii., 390-1.

SMOKING HABITS. 163
in Chalk Farm Tea Gardens, but the Rosemont
bowers are really beautiful." In the Blind Insti
tution of Lausanne he was introduced to a young
man who had been born deaf and dumb, and who
had been stricken blind by an accident when
about five years old. Writing of this boy,
Dickens says : — " He is very fond of smoking. I
have arranged to supply him with cigars during
our stay here ; so he and I are in amazing
sympathy. I don't know whether he thinks I
grow them or make them, or produce them by
winking, or what ; but it gives him a notion that
the world in general belongs to me.''
In the year 1853 Dickens revisited Lausanne, and
found that the poor lad had forgotten him. " Tre
mendous efforts," he writes, "were made by Hatzel
to impress him with an idea of me and the asso
ciations belonging to me, but it seemed in my eyes
quite a failure, and I much doubt if he had the
least perception of his old acquaintance. I left
ten francs to be spent in cigars for my old friend.
If I had taken one with me I think I could more
successfully, than his master, have established my
identity." When staying in Paris, in 1856, Emile de
Girardin gav© a costly banquet in his honour, to
which he thus refers : — " The company being
returned to the drawing-room, tables roll in by

164 GREAT MEN A T PLA Y.
unseen agency laden with cigarettes from the
Hareem of the Sultan, and with cool drinks, in
which the flavour of the lemon arrived yesterday
from Algeria struggles voluptuously with the
delicate orange arrived this morning from Lisbon.
After dinner he (Girardin) asked me if I would
come into another room and smoke a cigar ? On
my saying ' Yes,' he coolly opened a drawer
containing about five hundred inestimable cigars
in prodigious bundles — just as the captain of the
robbers in 'Ali Baba' might have gone to a
corner of the cave for bales of crocade."
Another distinguished smoker was Thomas
Henry Buckle. Although " a very moderate one
as compared with many, it was so imperious a
necessity with him to have his three cigars every
day, that he could neither read, write, nor talk,
if forced to forego them, and he was equally
uncomfortable should he happen to over-pass the
usual hour for indulging in them. As also he
could not smoke when walking — the effort being
too great for him — he never went to stay in any
house where smoking was objected to. But more
than one house that had never tolerated a cigar
before bore with it for his sake." '
On his last travels in the East he still enjoyed his
pipe, and Mr. J. A. Longmore, who joined him in
his journeys, writing to the Athenmum, tells us : —

SMOKING HABITS. 165
" It was on board the Oanopus that I was intro
duced to him. I found him smoking Latakia out
of a large red clay pipe, with an extremely long
cherry stalk, which he had found on board the
boat, and which he seemed thoroughly to enjoy.
Though h6 smoked continuously during our
interview he was by no means solely occupied by
that recreation, for he talked nearly as con
tinuously." The vast and rich store of facts,
too, which he collected together about smoking
were intended to estimate the place, and influence,
of tobacco as an element of civilization.
Like Buckle, Charles Kingsley found tobacco
a needful sedative. At times, it is said, he would
work himself into a sort of white heat over his
book, till, too excited to write more, he would
calm himself down by a pipe, pacing his grass
plot in thought and with long strides. He
always used a long and clean churchwarden, and
these pipes used to be bought a barrelful at a
time. They lurked in all sorts of unexpected
places. A pipe would suddenly be extracted from
a bush in the garden, filled and lighted as if by
magic, or one has even been drawn from a whin-
bush on the heath, some half-mile from the house.
But none was ever smoked which was in any
degree foul, and, when there was a vast accumula
tion of old pipes — enough to fill the barrel — they

166 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
were sent back again to the kiln to be rebaked,
and returned fresh and new. This gave him a
striking simile, which, in " Alton Locke," he
puts into the mouth of James Crossthwaite : —
" Katie here believes in purgatory, where souls
are burnt clean again like bacca pipes."
In " Westward Ho," again, there is a forcible in
dication of his love of tobacco, for, he writes, " the
Indians always carry it with them on their war
parties, and no wonder, for when all things were
made, none was made better than this, to be a lone
man's companion, a bachelor's friend, a hungry
man's food, a sad man's cordial, a wakeful man's
sleep, and a chilly man's fire ; while for stanching
of wounds, purging of rheum, and settling of the
stomach, there's no herb like unto it under the
canopy of heaven."
Carlyle, who was a victim to indigestion,
sought refuge in his pipe, having tried all kinds
of remedies, but to no purpose. He relates how
" a long hairy-eared jackass," as he in somewhat
uncomplimentary terms designated an Edinburgh
physician, recommended him to take mercury and
forego tobacco. But, gaining no improvement by
this advice, he resumed his pipe and smoked to
the end of his life. One night, when upset by
over-work and sleeplessness, he went down to
smoke in the back-yard. Mentioning this inci-

SMOKING HABITS. 167
dent, he tells us how he " sat down to smoke in
his night-shirt. It was one of the beautifulest
nights ; the half-moon, clear as silver, looked out
as from eternity, and the great dawn was stream
ing up. I felt a remorse, a kind of shudder, at
the fuss I was making about a sleepless night,
about my sorrow at all, with a life so soon to be
absorbed into the great mystery above and around
me. Oh, let us be patient ! Let us call to God
with our silent hearts, if we cannot with our
tongues ! "
With such grand and lofty sentiments on
record, tobacco will never stand in need of
apologists to advocate its claims, for, as Carlyle
has further added, " tobacco smoke is the one
element in which, by our European manners,
men can sit silent together without embarrass
ment, and where no man is bound to speak one
word more than he has actually and veritably got
to say. Nay, rather every man is admonished
and enjoined by the laws of honour, and even of
personal ease, to stop short of ' that point ; at all
events, to hold his peace and take to his pipe
again the instant he has spoke his meaning, if he
chance to have any." In these days, too, when
the cloture has been found an indispensable
necessity for carrying on party government
within reasonable hours, such a mode of procedure

168 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
would undoubtedly have its advantages. For, as
Carlyle adds, "the results of which salutary
practice, if introduced into Constitutional Parlia
ments, might evidently be incalculable."
Smoking Charles Darwin only took to per
manently in late years ;* and Lord Westbury did
not indulge in tobacco till he was over sixty,
when he became very fond of smoking cigarettes,
from which he thought he derived some comfort.
Although by no means an inveterate smoker,
John Bright was fond of the soothing weed, and
it is said that when Birmingham gave him its last
celebrated welcome with a procession to Aston,
the first thing he did on arriving at Small Heath
Station was to inquire where he might smoke a
cigarette. In his early days, writes Mr. T.
Wemyss Reid in the Pall Mall Gazette, he was
"a frequenter of what is known as the little
smoking room at the Reform, and here he and
Cobden, Milner Gibson, and Charles Villiers,
would often sit of an evening talking over men
and things, and at times preparing those political
schemes which had so important a bearing upon
the destinies of the country."
Of late years, when visiting the Reform Club, "if
he fell in with some scientific or literary man in the
smoking room, his delight was to wander far away
* See " Life of Charies Darwin."

SMOKING HABITS. 169
from the heated greed of political strife. It was
then of scientific discoveries, of salmon fishing, of
poetry old and new, or of the best English fiction,
that he would talk with a freshness and fulness
that delighted his auditors. His one cigar
smoked — and he always spent a very long time
over it — he would glance at the printed telegram
to see what was doing down at the House of
Commons, then utter a friendly ' Good night,'
and set off for his lodgings, formerly in Piccadilly,
and latterly at the bottom of Hanover Street."
Cowper was no smoker, and seems to have
regarded this habit with no favourable eye. He
was on terms of close friendship, however, with
several smokers, the Rev. William Bull, Dissenting
minister at Olney, being among the number,
whom he described as " a man of letters and of
genius, who can be lively without levity, and
pensive without dejection." But, he added, " he
smokes tobacco. Nothing is perfect ! ' Nihil est
ab omni parte beatum !'" Happily, Cowper was
not bigoted, as may be gathered from the follow
ing letter addressed to his friend Mr. Bull, dated
3rd June, 1783 :—
" My greenhouse, planted with myrtles, and
where I hear nothing but the pattering of a fine
shower and the sound of distant thunder, wants
only the fumes of your pipe to make it perfectly

1 70 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
delightful. Tobacco was unknown in the golden
age. So much the worse for the golden age.
This age of iron or lead would be insupportable
without it, and therefore w© may reasonably
suppose that the happiness of those better days
would have been much more improved by the use
of it."
His friend, the Rev. John Newton, Rector of
St. Mary Woolnoth, was an ardent smoker,
writing to whom, he says : — " I have often
promised myself a laugh with you about your
pipe, but have always forgotten it when I have
been writing, and at present I am not much in a
laughing humour. You will observe, however,
for your comfort and the honour of the same
pipe, that it hardly falls within the lines of my
censure. You never fumigate the ladies, or force
them out of company, nor do you use it as an
incentive to hard drinking. Your friends, indeed,
have reason to complain that it frequently
deprives them of the pleasure of your own con
versation, while it leads you either into your
study or into your garden, but in all other
respects it is as innocent a pipe as can be. Smoke
away, therefore, and remember that if one poet
has condemned the practice, a better than he,
the witty and elegant Hawkins Browne, has been
warm in the praises of it."

SMOKING HABITS. 171
But Cowper was not always equally lenient
when speaking of the pipe, his delicate sense of
smell having been offended by vulgar smokers,
who probably used bad tobacco, for in " Th©
Task " (Bk. v.) he tells how— The sturdy churl ¦
Moves right toward the mark, nor stops for aught,
But now and then with pressure of his thumb
T' adjust the fragrant charge of a short tube,
That fumes beneath his nose — the trailing cloud
Streams far behind him, scenting all the -air.
Much more severe is he when he finds the
unsavoury whiff in close proximity with th©
toper's pot : —
Pass where we may, through city or through town.
Village or hamlet, of this merry land, —
Though lean and beggared, every twentieth pace
Conducts the unguarded nose to such a whiff
Of stale debauch, forth issuing from the sties
That law has licensed, as make temp'rance reel.
There sit, involved and lost in curling clouds
Of Indian fume and guzzling deep, the boor.
The lackey, and the groom. The craftsman there
Takes a Lethean leave of all his toil —
Smith, cobbler, joiner, he that plies the shears.
And he that kneads the dough — all loud alike,
All learned, and all drunk.
Like Cowper, Shelley never smoked, neither
Wordsworth nor Keats, and old Thomas Fuller,
although no smoker himself, did not condemn the
practice, for, writing of it, he says* — " As for the
praise of tobacco with the virtues thereof, they
* GlcuceBtershire, 349.

172 GREAT MEN AT PLA Y.
may better be performed by pens of such -writers
whose palates have tasted of the same."
Dr. Johnson was not a smoker, but it would
seem that his sympathies were with the custom,
of the sedative influence of which he had a high
opinion. Alluding to the unpopularity of the
fashion in his own time, he was heard one day to
remark that insanity had in consequence grown
more frequent. Indeed, that smoking should go
out was a matter of surprise to him, and he said,
" To be sure it is a shocking thing, blowing
smoke out of our mouths into other people's
mouths, eyes, and noses, and have the same thing
done to us. Yet I cannot account why a thing
"which requires so little exertion, and yet preserves
the mind from total vacuity, should have gone out.
Every man has something by which he calms
himself — beating with his feet or so."
Dr. Adam Clarke, who could never reconcile
himself to the practice, deemed it expedient to
find a useful purpose for the creation of tobacco
by all-seeing wisdom, and argued that "in some
rare cases of internal injury tobacco may be used,
but not in the customary way."
The Duke of Wellington, again, was no smoker,
nor Peel, and many more might be added to the
list of those who have found no solace in the
soothing weed.

CHAPTER VI.
SNUFF-TAKING.
Beau Brummell — Edward Wortley Montagu — Lord Petersham
— Lord Stanhope — Talleyrand — Dryden — Swift — Pope —
Addison — Lord Chesterfield — Dr. Johnson — Earl Buchan
— Sterne — Garrick — Duke of Bridgewater — Abernethy —
J. Horne Tooke — James Watt — Sir Joshua Reynolds —
Keats — Charles Lamb — Sir Francis Chantrey— Sir Walter
Scott — E. Gibbon — Steele — Soame Jenyns — Robert
Burns — Charles Dickens — Wm. Anderson — Captain
Marryat — Charles Lever — Archbishop Whately — -Charles
Darwin.
Fashion is capricious, and snuff-taking, which in
the last century was almost universally adopted
by leaders of society in Europe, has long since
fallen into abeyance. Indeed, in the days of
Queen Anne the custom had become such a
necessary institution that there were in the
metropolis no less than seven thousand shops
where this popular commodity could be obtained.

174 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
Boxes were made of the most costly materials
and in all manner of shapes —
With all the show
Of art the greatest artist can bestow.
Charming in shape, with polished rays of light,
A joint so fine it shuns the sharpest sight,
Must still be graced with all the radiant gems
And precious stones that e'er arrived in Thames.
Within the lid the painter plays his part,
And with his pencil proves his matchless art.
There drawn to life some spark or mistress dwells,
Like hermits chaste and constant to their cells.
A great impetus, too, was given to the habit of
snuff-taking in the year 1702. The fleet under
the command of Sir George Rook captured at
Port Saint Mary, near Cadiz, several thousand
barrels of very choice Spanish snuff along with
the plunder. On returning by Vigo they also
obtained native snuff from the Havanna, destined
for the Spanish market. This very large quantity
of snuff was sold at the principal seaports as
" prizes" for the benefit of officers and crews, and
waggon loads were parted with at the rate of
f ourpence per pound. It was christened " Vigo
Snuff," and, as Mr. Fairholt says, "the popularity
of the war, the name of the snuff, and the novelty
of excessive cheapness, combined to induce a very
general use of it."
Many snuff-takers, following the example of
Frederick the Great of Prussia, made it a hobby

SNUFF-TAKING. 175
to collect snuff-boxes. Beau Brummell having had
a very curious and extensive assortment. On
one occasion, when dining at Portman Square, on
the removal of the cloth, the snuff-boxes made
their appearance, and Brummell's was particularly
admired. It was handed round for inspection,
and a gentleman, finding it rather difficult to
open, incautiously applied a dessert knife to the
lid. Poor Brummell was on thorns. At last he
could not contain himself any longer, and,
addressing the host, said, with his characteristic
quaintness —
" Will you be good enough to tell your friend
that my snuff-box is not an oyster ?"
Beau Brummell also prided himself on his
graceful manner of opening the snuff-box with
one hand only — the left. Judging from a satirical
advertisement which appeared in the Spectator, it
would seem that much attention was paid to this
act, which afforded an opportunity of displaying
the jewelled finger : — " The exercise of the snuff
box, according to th© most fashionable airs and
motions in opposition to the exercise of th© fan,
will be taught with the best plain or perfumed
snuff, at Charles Lillie's, perfumer, at the corner
of Beaufort Buildings, in the Strand, and attend
ance given for the benefit of the young merchants
about the Exchange for two hours every day, at

176 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
noon, except Saturdays, at a toy-shop, near
Garraway's Coffee House. There will be likewise
taught the ceremony of the snuff-box, or rules
for offering snuff to a stranger, a friend, or a
mistress, according to the degrees of familiarity
or distance, with an explanation of the careless,
the scornful, the politic, and the surly pinch, and
the gestures proper to each of them."*
Another great collector of snuff-boxes was
Edward Wortley Montagu, the eccentric son of
Lady Mary, who is said to have possessed more
than "would suffice a Chinese idol with a hundred
noses, a collection which perhaps was never
equalled unless by that of George IV., who was
not less extravagant and recherche in snuff and
snuff-boxes than in other things."
Then there was Lord Petersham, who boasted
a stock of snuffs worth three thousand pounds,
while he had boxes adapted for all occasions —
boxes for winter wear, boxes for summer use.
Indeed, the story goes that he had a different box
for every day in the year, and Captain Gronow
saw him one day use a beautiful Sevres box,
which on being admired, he said, " was a nice
summer box, but would not do for winter wear."
He was a great connoisseur of snuffs, and " Lord
Petersham's Mixture " has long been proverbial
* " Chronicles of Fashion," Mrs. Stone, 1845, ii., 416-17.

SNUFF-TAKING. \11
as a popular snuff. He actually devoted one
room of his mansion in Whitehall Gardens to
properly storing his snuff. That room, says
Fairholt, was a curiosity in its way, with its rows
of well-mad© jars, and proper materials of all
kinds for the due admixture, and management, of
the snuffs they contained, under the able superin
tendence of a well-informed man, who was the
g^uardian angel thereof. After the earl's death
the collection was sold, and prices that seem
fabulous to the uninitiated were realized for the
finer sorts.*
Lord Stanhope used to calculate that a regular
snuff-taker took one pinch every ten minutes,
each pinch, and its accompanying ceremonies,
occupying a minute and a half. One minute and
a half out of every ten, it has been pointed out,
if sixteen hours be allowed to the day, gives two
hours and twenty-four minutes per day, or thirty-
six and a half days in the year as the time wasted
by a snuff-taker upon his nose.
On the other hand, Talleyrand defended snuff-
taking, not as a habit, but on principle. He
maintained that all diplomatists ought to take
snuff, as it afforded them an opportunity of delay
ing a reply which they might not have ready at
hand. It further sanctioned, he said, the removal
* " Tobacco : its History and Associations," 282.
VOL. II. N

178 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
of one's eyes from those of the interrogator, and
occupied the hands, which otherwise might betray
a nervous fidget calculated to expose, rather than
conceal, his feelings.
Dryden was a snuff- taker, and was in the habit
of frequenting Wills' Coffee House, in Bow Street,
Covent Garden, which consequently became one
of the leading resorts of the wits of his time.
Thus Ned Ward relates in his " London Spy "
how " a parcel of raw, second-rate beaux and wits
were conceited if they had but the honour to dip
a finger into Mr. Dryden's snuff-box."
Swift liked his snuff, and made his own mixture
by working in pounded tobacco with ready-
manufactured Spanish snuff; while Pope also
patronized the habit, speaking, in his " Rape of
the Lock," of the use of the snuff-box as a
fashionable appendage : —
Sir Plume of amber snuff-box justly vain,
And the nice conduct of a clouded cane ;
With earnest eyes, and round unthinking face.
He first the snuff-box open'd, then the case.
Then there was Addison and Lord Chesterfield,
who, in his last letter to his son, tells him that
he has " sent in four successive letters so much
of the Duchess of Somerset's snuff as a letter
could well convey."
Dr. Johnson indulged in snuff, and was in the

SNUFF-TAKING. 179
habit of taking it out of his waistcoat pocket,
instead of a box; and James Bos well wrote in
praise of the fashion some lines, from which we
quote the following : —
Oh, snuff! our fashionable end and aim —
Strasburgh, Rappee, Dutch, Scotch — whate'er thy name !
Powder celestial 1 quintessence divine !
New joys entrance my soul while thou art mine ;
Who takes ? who takes thee not ? Where'er I range
I smell thy sweets from Pall Mall to the 'Change.
The eleventh Earl of Buchan — brother of
Thomas Erskine, who by the force of his eloquence
rose to be Lord Chancellor of England — was
remarkable for his penuriousness, and eccentricity.
In the year 1782 the Goldsmiths of Edinburgh
presented him with a mounted snuff-box, made
from the tree to which William Wallace had once
been indebted for his safety. Ten years after
wards, however. Lord Buchan obtained permission
from the Goldsmiths to give the snuff-box to
Washington, at that time President of the United
States. As a reason for so doing he maintained
that Washington was the only man in the world
to whom he thought the snuff-box justly due.
When Mrs. Sterne was about to join her
husband in Paris, in the year 1762, he wrote : —
*' You will find good tea upon the road from York
to Dover. Only bring a little to carry you from
Calais to Paris. Give the Custom-house Officer

180 GREAT MEN AT PLA Y.
what I told you. At Calais give more, if you
have much Scotch snuff ; but, as tobacco is good
here, you had best bring a Scotch mull, and make
it yourself — that is, order your valet to manufac
ture it, 'twill keep him out of mischief;" and in
another letter he adds, " You must be cautious
about Scotch snuff ; take half-a-pound in your
pocket, and make Lyd do the same."
Southey, again, it may be remembered, eulogizes
snuff in high terms in the following well-known.
lines : — Most rare Columbus ! thou shalt be for this
The only Christopher in my kalender.
Why, but for thee the uses of the nose
Were half unknown, and its capacity of joy.
When manager of Drury Lane Theatre, Garrick
brought into fashion a particular snuff mixture.
It appears that a man named Hardham had been
his numberer — to count the audience in the
theatre — and on inventing his "mixture," Garrick
rendered him the following service. Whilst
enacting the character of a man of fashion on the
stage, Garrick offered a pinch of his snuff to a
fellow comedian, observing that it was the most
fashionable mixture of the day, and to be had only
at Hardham's, 37, Fleet Street. As may be
imagined, the puff answered beyond Garrick's
expectation, and for many years afterwards

SNUFF.TAKING. 181
Hardham's was the favourite mixture, when
snuff-taking was the rag© and fashion of the time.
It may be added that Hardham, having made a
large fortune by his snuff trade in Fleet Street,
retired to Chichester, where he died in the year
1772, bequeathing a portion of his well-earned
wealth to charitable institutions of that city,
which, by-the-bye, was his native place.
Out of doors, the Duke of Bridgewater took
snuff, and he would pull huge pinches out of his
right waistcoat pocket and thrust the powder up
his nose, accompanying the operation, writes Mr.
Smiles,* " with sundry strong short snorts."
A story is told of Abernethy, who, upon being
asked by an inveterate consumer of rape if an
immoderate use of snuff was calculated to injure
the brain, replied, in his usual caustic and
splenetic manner — " Not in the least, sir, for
people who take snuff immoderately can have no
brains." John Horne Tooke was much addicted to snuff-
taking, in which he indulged greatly, generally
carrying a large box in his pocket. His rappee,
says his biographer,t " was freely communicated
to all around who chose to follow his example,
and this was usually the signal for his telling a
* " Lives of the Engineers," i., 412.
t '' Life of John Horne Tooke," A. Stephens, ii., 500.

1 82 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
facetious story. He seldom, indeed, concluded
a droll adventure, and ' set the table in a roar,^
which he did with the gravest face imaginable,
without taking a pinch of his Strasburgh."
The homely solace of an occasional pinch of
snuff was a little indulgence which James Watt
dearly loved. But this predilection was rarely
gratified, for the assiduous legislation of Mrs.
Watt denounced the snuff-box. Her habit was
to lay violent hands on the offending "mull"
whenever she could surprise it, and to carry it
away to the safe custody of her china closet.
The philosopher submitted with his usual good
temper, but in his own good time was sure to
watch his wife when employed amidst her
favourite ware, and, while her back was turned,
to steal a pinch, or even to recapture the box,
and bear off his prize in triumph. " Short-lived,"
however, " were such successes against the
enemy," for, as Mr. Muirhead writes, "the name
of James Watt adds another to the long roll of
those sages who from Socrates downwards,
reversing the doctrine of our great poet and his
' Tamed Shrew,' have been compelled to pay to
their wives the tribute of
" Love, fair looks, and true obedience."*
Sir Joshua Reynolds took snuff so freely when
he was painting that it occasionally inconvenienced
* " Taming of the Shrew," Act V., Scene 2.

SNUFF-TAKING. 183
his sitters. . The story goes that when he was
painting the large picture at Blenheim of the
Marlborough family, the Duchess one day ordered
the servant to bring a broom and sweep up Sir
Joshua's snuff from the carpet ; but Reynolds,
who would not permit any interruption while
engaged in his studio, ordered him to let the
snuff remain until th© completion of his picture,
observing that the dust, raised by the broom,
would do more injury to his picture than the snuff
could possibly do to the carpet.
According to another story, a gentleman told
Wilkie he sat to Sir Joshua, " who dabbled in a
quantity of snuff, laid the picture on its back,
shook it about till it settled like a batter-pudding,
and then painted away. This was, it is said, to get
a surface like Rembrandt's, and, in accordance
with Gaudy's advice to Reynolds, for a rich
texture and creamy colour."
Keats and Charles Lamb were snuff-takers, and
Sir Francis Chantrey was a second Sir Joshua in
his love for snuff. The large silver box which he
constantly used, and which had been a present to
him from his friend, Mr. Hatchett, the chemist,
was, after the death of her husband, given by
Lady Chantrey to John Read, as a memento of
long-cherished friendship.*
A pleasant picture of Sir Walter Scott's
* Holland's " Memoirs of Chantrey."

184 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
domestic life is given in Washington Irving's
" Abbotsford and Newstead." When the
American visited the novelist he walked with
him to a quarry, where his people were at work.
" The face of the humblest dependent," writes
Irving, " brightened at his approach. All paused
from their labour to have a pleasant ' crack wi'
the laird.' Among the rest was a tall, straight
old fellow, with a healthful complexion and silver
hairs, and a small round-crowned white hat. He
stood looking at Scott with a slight sparkling of
his blue eye as if waiting his turn, for the old
fellow knew he was a favourite. Scott accosted
him in an affable tone, and asked for a pinch of
snuff. The old man drew forth a horn snuff-box.
" ' Hoot man,' said Scott, ' not that old mull.
Where's the bonnie French one that I brought
you from Paris ? '
" ' Troth, your honour,' replied the old fellow,
' I've a mull as thae is nae for week-days.'
" On leaving the quarry Scott said that when
absent at Paris he had purchased several trifling
articles as presents for his dependents, and among
others the gay snuff-box in question, which was
so carefully reserved for Sundays by the veteran.
' It was not so much the value of the gifts,' he
added, ' that pleased them as the idea that the
laird should think of them when so far away.' "

SNUFF-TAKING. 185
A confirmed snuff- taker was Gibbon, who, in
one of his letters, has left this account of his
mode of using it: — "I drew my snuff-box, rapped
it, took snuff twice, and continued my discourse
in my usual attitude of my body bent forwards,
and my fore-finger stretched out."
According to Steele, " when a person feels his
thoughts run out, it is natural enough to supply
his weak place with powder," and he tells us how
he laboured for three years to talk a lady out of
the habit, till an accident accomplished what all
his persevering eloquence had failed to do. On
one occasion she happened to have a handsome
"young friend concealed in a closet," who ran
hither to avoid some company who came to visit
her. She made excuse to go to him for some
implement they were talking of. Her eager
gallant snatched a kiss, but, being unused to
snuff, some grains from her upper lip made him
sneeze, which alarmed the visitors, and mad© a
discovery that in no slight measure discomposed
her presence of mind.
But Steele, it may be remembered, inveighed
loudly against lady snuff-takers, and has
described Mrs. Saunter taking snuff as often
as salt with her meals, with such wonderful
negligence that an upper lip covered with snuff
and sauce was presented to all who had the

1 86 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
honour of dining with her ; while her pretty niece
made up for not offending the eye to the same
degree by startling the ear with a nauseous rattle
as sh© stopped her nostrils with her fingers. At
the same time, Steele did not object to see a
pretty hand manipulate a snuff-box, but thought
Flavilia went a little too far in pulling out her
snuff-box in the middle of the sermon, and offer
ing it to the men and women near her, as well as
to the churchwarden, as she dropped her contri
bution into the plate.
Soame Jenyns, the clever writer of the last
century, who, it is said, " was the charm of the
circle and gave a zest to every company he came
into," was a snuff-taker, in allusion to which
habit Mr. Chalmers writes amusingly : — " It was
rather to be lamented that his lady, Mrs. Jenyns,
had so great a respect for his good sayings and
so imperfect a recollection of them, for though
she always prefaced her recitals of them with ' as
Mr. Jenyns says,' it was not always what Mr.
Jenyns said, and never, I am apt to think, as Mr.
Jenyns said ; but she was an excellent old lady,
and twirled her fan with as much mechanical
address as her genius husband twirled his snuff
box." Many a snug winter evening did Robert Burns
spend with his associate Bacon, who kept a well-

SNUFF.TAKING. 187
known posting-house north of Dumfries. On
these occasions the bard and innkeeper smoked,
and drank their whisky toddy as they chatted
together; while the former composed some of his
best convivial songs during these meetings. In
memory of the happy hours thus spent, Burns
gave Bacon his snuff-box, which had been his
pocket companion for many years, this fact only
being known to a few. But after Bacon's death
in the year 1825 his various effects were sold,
and with them the snuff-box. At first sight this
relic of bygone days, made of the tip of a horn,
with its plain silver-mounted lid, seemed of little
value, and was about to be knocked down by the
auctioneer for a trivial sum, when someone
discovered the following inscription upon it : —
" Robert Burns, Officer of the Excise." At once
up went the bidding among the eager purchasers,
and eventually this relic of the Scotch bard was
knocked down for five pounds.
When a boy Charles Dickens attended a school
kept in Clover Lane, Chatham, by a young Baptist
minister, named William Giles. According to
Mr. Forster — "When half-way through the publi
cation of ' Pickwick,' his old teacher sent a silver
snuff-box, with an admiring inscription to the
' inimitable Boz.' It reminded him of praise far
more precious obtained by him at his first year's

188 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
examination in the Clover Lane Academy, when
his recitation of a piece out of the ' Humourists'
Miscellany' had received, unless his youthful
vanity bewildered him, a double encore. A habit
— the only bad one taught him by Mr. Giles — of
taking for a time in very moderate quantities the
snuff called Irish Blackguard, was the result of
this gift from his old master, but he abandoned it
after some few years, and it was never resumed."
William Anderson, who, for a long period, was
perhaps the most interesting preacher in Glasgow,
was one of those broad-minded men and fearless
champions of every worthy cause that have made
their good sense and influence felt in the world.
" A true and spontaneous humourist," we are
told, " he was grand and wise enough not to
allow the pulpit to restrain his sense of the
grotesque and his relish of a joke, though levity
and buffoonery were ever far from him." He
was known as an enthusiastic snuffer, and on one
occasion in the pulpit, when uttering the words
" My soul cleaveth to the dust," he took a huge
pinch of snuff.
At another time, when vigorously proclaiming
in the words of Scripture that " All is vanity,"
he profusely treated his nose to the precious
and familiar luxury, and then cried, " And
this also is vanity." " Long years ago," writes

SNUFF-TAKING. 189
one who often heard him preach, " we were
perhaps as much impressed by the frequency
and ardour of his applications to his snuff-box as
by his earnestness."* His biographer says that
Anderson condemned the taking of snuff, but
perhaps all he did was to lament the mastery
which snuff had gained over him ; otherwise he
would have been guilty of hypocrisy for blaming
in others what he himself practised.
Captain Marryat, again, who was not a great
smoker, only now and then indulging himself
with a cigar, took an immense quantity of snuff,
much to the dissatisfaction of his little greyhound
Juno, into whose eyes it was sure to fall whenever
she tried to bury her nose in the folds of his
waistcoat. t
Charles Lever was at one time a snuff-taker^
but he appears to have broken himself early of the
habit, and for the last twenty years of his life he
never carried a box. J
In lecturing, Dr. Whately sometimes found it
convenient to take a pinch of snuff while a
student was trying to unravel in his mind some
pithy question he had put to him. The following
picture has been drawn of his teaching days : —
* " Cope's Tobacco Plant," 522.
f " Life and Letters of Captain Marryat," ii., 137.
X " Life of Charles Lever," W. J. Fitzpatrick, i., 122.

1 90 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
"The logic class is assembled. The door by
which the principal is to enter is exactly opposite
to the foot of the stair, which descends from his
own apartment. It stands open, and presently a
kind of rushing sound is heard on the staircase.
The next instant Whately plunges into the room,
saying, while yet in the doorway —
" ' Explain the nature of the third operation of
the mind, Mr. Johnson.'
" But as none of the operations of Mr. John
son's mind are so rapid as those of the energetic
principal, the latter has had time to fling himself
into a chair, cross the small of one leg over the
knee of the other, balance himself on the two
hind legs of the chair, and begin to show signs of
impatience before Mr. Johnson has sufficiently
gathered his wits together. While that process
is being accomplished, the principal soothes his
impatience by the administration of a huge pinch,
or handful rather, of snuff to his nose, copiously
sprinkling his waistcoat with the superfluity
thereof. Then at last comes a meagre answer
from Mr. Johnson in the words of the text book,
which is followed by the lecturer giving a
luminous exposition of the rationale of the whole
of that part of the subject."
With Charles Darwin snuff was a stimulant, and
was taken during work hours. He took snuff for

SNUFF- TAKING. 191
many years of his life, having learnt the habit at
Edinburgh as a student. " He had a nice silver
snuff-box," writes his son,* " given him by Mrs.
Wedgwood, of Maer, which he valued much —
but he rarely carried it, because it tempted him to
take too many pinches." In one of his early letters
he speaks of having given up snuff for a month,
and describes himself as feeling "most lethargic,
stupid, and melancholy."
He generally took snuff from a jar on the hall-
table, " because having to go this distance was a
slight check ; the clink of the lid of the snuff-jar
was a very familiar sound. Sometimes when he
was in the drawing-room, it would occur to him
that the study fire must be burning low," and
when someone offered to see after it, " it would
turn out that he also wished to get a pinch of
snuff." But snuff-takers of this good old type are
rarely to be met with nowadays.
* " Life and Letters of Charies Darwin," i., 121, 122.

CHAPTER VII.
PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.
John Wilkes — Oliver Goldsmith — Samuel Johnson — Lord Ash-
burton — Lord Loughborough — Lord Ellenborough — Lord
Brougham — Porson — Thackeray — Sir Walter Scolt —
Admiral Lord Keppel — Lord Elgin — Duke of Wellington — •
Pope — Garrick — Edmund Kean — Duke of Norfolk — Lord
Nelson — Lord John Russell — Sir Charles James Napier
— Lord Chief Justice Cockburn — Crofton Croker — Tom
Moore — Thomas Gray — Flaxman — Douglas Jerrold — Lord
North — John Metcalf — Lieut. Holman — Tliomas Black-
lock — Professor Sanderson — Isaac D'Israeli — Alexander
Davidson — Thomas Wilson — Henry Fawcett — Edmund
Malone — Lord Hatherley — Sir Robert Peel — -Lord
Chesterfield — Henry Kirke White — Bishop Thirlwall —
Walter Savage Landor- — Admiral Boscawen — Lord Byron.
Many men — although personally they have had
little to recommend them — have by the force of
their individuality only too often actually out
witted, as favourites of society, those upon whose
outward form nature has smiled more kindly.
Thus John Wilkes, in spite of his bad nose and

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS. 193
prominent cast in his eye, put into the shade the
fashionable dandies of his time, and was much
sought after by even the fair leaders of society.
Indeed, as the oft-told tale runs, Wilkes used to
assert that if any man — even the most handsome
— would give him a quarter of an hour's start, he
would, in the race for a woman's affection, obtain
an easy victory. But he was no exception, for
brain power, in whatever way displayed, must,
sooner or later, excite admiration, and cause the
man's real self to lighten up with a refined, and
intellectual, beauty his otherwise ill-favoured form.
No one, in reading Oliver Goldsmith's clever
writings, thinks of his ugly scarred face ; and
who cares nowadays what Dr. Johnson was like ?
The man lives as an intellectual power, in spite
of his corpulent person, his St. Vitus's dance,
and his unwieldy gait. Some men, again, have
had th©ir personal appearance marred by sundry
other defects, such as an ugly or disproportioned
nose, many amusing instances of which have often
been noticed. But luckily this defect has not
spoilt their worldly prospects, as Pascal says
might have been the case with Cleopatra, who
remarks that had her nose been shorter, the whole
face of the world would have been changed. Is
it possible that Antony could have fallen in love
with a snub -faced woman?
VOL. II. o

194 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
John Dunning, Lord Ashburton, was not gifted
with personal beauty, and "Never," writes Sir
Nathaniel Wraxall, " did nature enclose a more
illuminated mind in a body of meaner and more
abject appearance. It is difficult to do justice to
the peculiar species of ugliness which charac
terized his person and figure, though he did not
labour under any absolute deformity of shape or
limb." The same authority further tells us that
he was fond of viewing his face in the glass, and
passed no time more to his satisfaction than in
decorating himself for his appearance in the world.
At one period of his life Lord Loughborough
was much subject to obloquy. Not only was
there said to be "famine in his face," but he was,
among other things, reproached for ugliness, and
to give point to this charge he also was said to take
great delight in admiring himself in the looking-
glass. Mrs. Piozzi tells us that, having mentioned
in the presence of Dr. Johnson this ridiculous
propensity, which likewise distinguished Mr.
Caton (a great timber merchant, also very ill-
favoured), he defended them, and thus moralized
on the subject in a manner truly characteristic of
himself: — " They see reflected in that glass men
who have risen from almost the lowest situations
in life — one to enormous riches, the other to
everything this world can give — rank, fame, and

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS. 195
fortune. They see likewise men who have
merited their advancement by the exertion and
improvement of those talents which God has
given them, and I see not why they should avoid
the mirror."
Lord Ellenborough had a strange aversion to
Lord Brougham, and, alluding on one occasion to
the peculiarity of his nose, remarked : — ^" Mr.
Brougham's nose was always quivering and
shaking, and, as if conscious it deserved being
pulled, seemed anxious to get out of the way."
From all accounts, his nose seems to have been
very curiously shaped, and, in a little work entitled
" Notes on Noses,"* the writer, after speaking of
the various orders into which noses may be
arranged, and the significance of those as to the
character of their possessors, wittily remarks : —
" It now only remains to treat of some obstinate
noses which will not come within our classification.
One of these is that curious formation, a com
pound of Roman, Greek, cogitative, and celestial,
with the addition of a button at the end, prefixed
to the front of my Lord Brougham. It is a most
eccentric nose. Turn it, and twist it, and view
it how, when, or where you will, it is never to
be seen twice in the same shape, and all you can
say of it is that it's a queer one."
* See " The Maclise Portrait Gallery," W. Bates, 105.

196 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
Indeed, it is generally agreed that Brougham's
nose was decidedly peculiar, and it is not sur
prising that this peculiarity should have afforded
opportunity for ridicule. His whole appearance
also was uncommon, as may be gathered from the
following description, which was given in the
"Leisure Hour" for August 1st, 1868 :— " Th©
features of Lord Brougham were harsh in the
extreme, while his forehead shot up to a great
elevation ; his chin was very long and square ; his
mouth, nose, and eyes seem huddled together in th©
centre of his face ; his eyes absolutely lost amidst
folds and corrugations ; and while he sat listening,
they seemed to retire inward, or to be veiled by a
flimsy curtain, which not only concealed th©
appalling glare which shot always from them
when he was aroused, but rendered his mind and
his purpose a sealed book to the keenest scrutiny
of man."
Person's nose was an unpleasant trouble to
him; its redness, it is said, having proceeded from
his indulgence in port wine. In one instance he
was very droll, at his own expense, in reply to
the invitation of his friend, Mr. Joy, a surgeon,
and W' rote : — " For some time past my face, or
rather my nose, whether from good living or bad
humours, has been growing into a great resem
blance of honest Bardolph's, or, to keep still on

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS. 197
the list of honest fellows, of honest Richard
Brinsley's. I have therefore put myself under a
regimen of abstinence till my poor nose recovers
its quondam colour and compass, after which I
shall be happy to attend your parties on the
shortest notice."
On another occasion he went to call on one of
the judges, whom he knew very well, when a
gentleman — who was a stranger to Porson — was
waiting impatiently for the barber. Negligently
attired, and with a patch of brown paper soaked
in vinegar on his inflamed nose, he was shown
into the room where the gentleman was sitting,
who suddenly started up and, approaching him,
said —
" Are you the barber ? "
" No, sir," replied Porson, " but I am a cunning
shaver, very much at your service."
In telling stories of this kind Porson displayed
his keen wisdom, for, by so doing, he took the
opportunity out of the hands of another, who
might not give so agreeable a picture of his
peculiarity. By an unfortunate accident Thackeray's nose
was injured when a boy, and those who knew him
personally can well remember the indelible scar.
" What a misfortune it is," wrote the well-known
authoress, Frances Anne Kemble, in her " Records

198 GREAT MEN AT PLA Y.
of a Girlhood" (1879, iii., 162), "to have a
broken nose, like poor, dear Thackeray ! He
would have been positively handsome — and is
positively ugly in consequence of it. John (Kemble)
and his friend, Venables, broke the bridge of
Thackeray's nose when they were schoolboys
playing together. What a mishap to befall a
young lad just beginning life ! "
Sir Walter Scott had a defective sense of
smell, and Lockhart writes that he has " seen
him stare about, quite unconscious of the cause,
when his whole company betrayed their uneasi
ness at the approach of an over-kept haunch of
venison ; and neither by the nose, or the palate,
could he distinguish corked wine from sound.
He could never tell Madeira from sherry. And
an Oriental friend having sent him a butt of
Shiraz, when he remembered the circumstance
some time afterwards, and called for a bottle to
have St. John Malcolm's opinion of its quality, it
turned out that his butler, mistaking the label,
had already served up half the bin as sherry."
In his early manhood. Admiral Lord Keppel
received a blow from the butt- end of a pistol in a
scuffle with foot-pads, which fractured the bridge
of his nose. In consequence of this accident his
face was seriously and permanently disfigured,
yet, we are told, " the fascination of his smile

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS. 199
and the lively and benevolent expression of his
eyes redeemed the countenance from extreme
plainness." Lord Elgin, on whose face the nasal organ was
conspicuous by its absence, will go down to pos
terity in the well-known epigram —
Noseless himself, he brought home noseless blocks.
The conspicuous dimensions of the Duke of
Wellington's nose made him many a time the
subject of harmless caricature, while equally
familiar in past years has been the " eagle-beak "
of Sir Charles James Napier, the intrepid soldier,
" some of whose military exploits," it has been
remarked, " would appear incredible were they
not nineteenth-century facts."
Many eminent men have been as intellectually
great as they have been physically small. Indeed,
from the earliest times, illustrations crowd round
us ; and, however much some have argued the
disadvantages arising from what has been termed
defect of stature, it would seem that genius has
only too frequently selected for her favourites
men who have been small both in height and bulk.
But Montaigne was of a different opinion, for he
writes : " I am somewhat under the middle-
height, a defect which has in it not only some
what of deformity, but still more of inconvenience,
especially to those placed in command or in

200 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
office, for the authority which a fine presence and
a majestic person give is in such a case wanting."
But, whatever Montaigne may have thought, ex
perience proves that, even in spite of an ephemeral
ridicule, little men have made an immortal reputa
tion. Pope, it may be remembered, was not by any
means favoured by fortune, and his appearance
has been thus described : " His person was
slender and distorted, and his stature so low
that, in order to bring him to a level with the
tables of the common height, it was necessary to
elevate his seat. He was unable (at least, after
the middle of life) to dress, or undress himself, or
to go to bed, or to rise without assistance. He
used to wear a sort of fur doublet under a shirt
of very coarse linen, with fine sleeves, also stays
made of stiff canvas, laced closely round him.
And over these a flannel waistcoat. Three pairs
of stockings were required to give his legs a
respectable appearance." In one of the lampoons
which his satire provoked, he is spoken of " as a
little creature scarce four feet high, whose very
sight makes one laugh, strutting, and swelling,
like the frog in Horace, and demanding the ad
miration of all mankind because it can make fine
verses."* Garrick, whose death Johnson said " eclipsed
* See Gentleman's Magazine, June, 1888.

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS. 201
the harmless gaiety of nations," was another little
man, and was often somewhat unsparingly carica
tured. On one occasion a lady asked Foote —
" Pray, sir, are your puppets to be as large as
life ? "
" Oh, dear, no, madam, not much above the size
of Garrick."
Then there was his successor in the following
century, Edmund Kean, of whom Mrs. Siddous
said he did well, but there was too little of him
even to make an actor. But she was wrong, for
the " little gipsy man," as some of his detractors
styled him, was destined in future years to hold
audiences breathless, night after night, by his
talent as an actor. Indeed, wanting in height, as
he might be, yet, as soon as his voice was heard,
his personality quickly caused attention to be
rivetted on his marvellous histrionic powers ; and
those around him, although, tall and gifted with
fine physique, failed to win anything like the
admiration accorded to him.
When Welbore Ellis succeeded Lord George
Germaine in the year 1782 as War Minister,
brilliant was the play of Burke's sarcasm upon
the new appointment. The diminutive figure of
the new Minister on the Ministerial benches was
mad© all the more noticeable by his manifest
depression. " I have come into office," said he, " to employ

20 2 GREAT MEN AT PLA Y.
the remaining vigour left me by age and infirmity
for the benefit of the State. I have now made
my confession of faith, and trust it may prove
satisfactory to the House."
Burke immediately rose, and, in language
which was full of bad taste, accused the new
Minister of being Lord George Germaine in effigy.
He compared the diminutive Minister to a cater
pillar that, having long reposed in the chrysalis
state within the silken folds of the Treasurership
of the Navy, had at length burst its ligaments,
expanded its wings, and fluttered forth the
Secretary of the hour, and though the appearance
of the creature, he added, might be changed, it
was, however, a caterpillar still.
The epithet " little," given by the sailor to
Admiral Lord Keppel, denotes him to have
been of low stature, and Henry Grattan was
short and of meagre appearance. His walk, it is
said, was singularly ungraceful; he never put his
heels to the ground, and when at college, on
account of his gait, had the nickname given him
of " The Elastic Body."
Equally curious the appearance of Charles
Howard, Duke of Norfolk, seems to have
been. When young he was described as of
particularly square habit of body, but, in the
decline of life, his figure, " as seen behind, might

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS. 203
be likened to a square elongated, to a short pro
portioned oblong."
Nelson, again, was a short, slightly-built man ;
and the caricature history of past years, as con
tained in the cartoons of Punch, did not fail to
recognize the small proportions of that famous
statesman, Lord John Russell.
Crofton Croker was described by Sir Walter
Scott, who breakfasted with him at Lockhart's,
as " little as a dwarf, keen-eyed as a hawk, and
of easy, prepossessing manners — something like
Tom Moore." Thomas Gray, the poet, and Flax
man, the sculptor, were short, as also was Douglas
Jerrold. Among further instances of great men of little
stature may be noticed the Duke of Wellington,
Sir Charles James Napier, and Lord Chief Justice
Cockburn. The privation of sight has been by no means
an uncommon defect with those who have made
themselves famous in various ways. Lord North,
the celebrated statesman, towards the close of his
life suffered from loss of vision. " In the year
1787," writes his youngest daughter, " Lord
North's sight began rapidly to fail him, and in a
few months he became totally blind in conse
quence of a palsy on the optic nerve." This
affliction, however, did not interfere with his

204 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
good spirits, and when Horace Walpole dined
with him at Bushy Park, in the course of the
autumn, he writes : " Never had he seen a more
interesting sight. Lord North's spirits, good-
humour, wit, sense, drollery, are as perfect as
ever; the unremitting attention of Lady North
and his children most touching. Mr. North
leads him about, Miss North sits constantly
by him, carves meat, watches his every motion,
scarce puts a bit into her own lips, and if one
cannot help commending her, she colours with
modesty and sorrow till the tears gush into her
eyes. If ever loss of sight could be compensated,
it is by so affectionate a family."
But in spite of this terrible drawback, instances
are plentiful of men who have pursued their avoca
tions, and had recourse to the most ingenious con
trivances for continuing their intellectual labours.
Then, although John Metcalf, at the early age of six,
lost his eyesight through small-pox, he overcame
difficulties apparently insurmountable — superin
tending the building of bridges and the construc
tion of high roads, occupations for which his
defect would seem to have wholly disqualified
him. It has been commonly said that the loss of
one sense quickens the others, and this seems to
have been the case with Metcalf, of whom the
most curious anecdotes are told. Thus, on one

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS. 205
occasion, passing through Halifax, he stopped at
an inn called the Broad Stone. Th© landlord's
son, and some others who frequented Harro
gate, having heard of Metcalf's exploits, expressed
a wish to play at cards with him, to which he
consented. A pack was sent for, which he
examined. The game was commenced, and Met
calf quickly beat four of them in turn, and after
wards won fifteen shillings at shilling whist.
On another occasion two persons had a dispute
concerning some sheep, which one of them had
put into a penfold. The owner of the sheep, a
townsman of Metcalf, appeared to be unfairly
treated by the other party, who wished to take
an undue advantage. Accordingly Metcalf deter
mined to do a good turn to his friend before
going home. Climbing over the wall of the pen-
fold about midnight, he laid hold of the sheep,
one after the other, and threw them over the
wall. As the number diminished they were not
so easily caught; but, not deterred by this
difficulty, he completed the business. On the
following day, a considerable degree of surprise
was occasioned when the penfold was found
untenanted, though the door was fast locked.
Metcalf, of course, passed unsuspected, and
enjoyed the joke in silence.
Equally astonishing were the exploits of

206 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
Lieutenant Holman, R.N., the great traveller,
who had the misfortune to lose his sight at the
very early age of twenty-five. But, when the
" sentence of total blindness was pronounced
upon him, he made up his mind to endure it
cheerfully," and, gratifying his taste for adven
ture, began to travel, journeying first through
France and eventually setting out by himself
through Europe, Asia, America, and Australia.
"The moral courage, the energy, the self-reliance,
and the irrepressible spirit of enterprise in this
blind man," adds Mr. Smiles, "render him alto
gether one of the most remarkable characters in
the whole range of biography."*
Although blind from his infancy, Thomas
Blacklock was a very remarkable man, for he not
only made himself master of various foreign
languages, but obtained eminence as a poet. He
acquired a knowledge of the various branches of
philosophy and theology, and contributed the
article "Blind" to the "Encyclopaedia Britannica,"
published in 1783. Among the many anecdotes
related of him,' we are told how in music his skill
as a judge and composer was considerable, and,
without hardly ever having seen the light, it is
surprising that he should be so remarkably happy
in his descriptions, as, for instance, in the follow
ing passage : — * " Life and Labour," 436.

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS. 207
Let long-lived pansies here their scents bestow.
The violets languish and the roses glow ;
In yellow glory let the crocus shine,
Narcissus here his love-sick head recline,
Here hyacinths in purple sweetness rise,
And tulips tinged with beauty's fairest dyes.
Another man who rose to eminence was Dr.
Sanderson, becoming Professor of Mathematics
and Optics to the University of Cambridge. His
sense of touch was so exquisite that in a collection
of Roman medals he distinguished the genuine
from the false, though they had been counterfeited
with such exactness as to deceive even a con
noisseur. His ear was equally exact, for he could
judge of the size of a room, and of his distance
from the wall. His method of calculation was
noteworthy, an ingenious contrivance to which
M. Diderot refers in the following letter : — " This
Sanderson, madam, is an author deprived of
sight, with whom it may not be foreign to our
purpose to amuse you. They relate prodigies of
him, and of these prodigies there is not one which
his progress in the Belles Lettres, and his mathe
matical attainments, do not render credible. The
same instrument served him for algebraical calcu
lations, and for the construction of rectilineal
figures." About the year 1839 Isaac D'Israeli was
stricken with blindness. But, as in the case of
Milton, the American Prescott, and the French

208 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
historian Thierry, this sad calamity did not
altogether interrupt his valuable labours. By the
aid of his daughter — who, to use his own touching
words, "so often lent the light of her eyes, the
intelligence of her voice, and the careful work of
her hand " — the stricken author, although sur
rounded by " unfinished labours and frustrated
designs," was enabled, amongst other literary
productions, to revise his well-known and popular
" Miscellanies of Literature" for Moxon's collec
tive edition of 1840, and also his great work
of the " Life and Reign of Charles the First,"
which, on its first appearance, had procured for
him the honorary degree of D.C.L. from the
University of Oxford.
Among further cases of great blind men may
be mentioned Alexander Davidson, the blind
philosopher of Dalkeith, and Thomas Wilson, the
blind bell-ringer of Dumfries. Sir Joshua
Reynolds became blind comparatively late in life,
and the sad accident that befell the late Henry
Fawcett is known to most readers. That he did
not allow this misfortune to affect the usefulness
of his career in life is evidenced by his busy
Parliamentary life, and the enjoyment he still took
in those recreations from which many would have
tliought him debarred.
Some early defect in vision, increased by

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS. 209
constant occupation in books and manuscripts,
somewhat interfered with Edmund Malone's
pleasures of life. " Whenever after the play he
walked round to Mr. Kemble's dressing-room, his
usual complaint was, ' I dare say it was a very
perfect performance, but you have made your
houses so large that I really can neither hear nor
see in them.' " The fact was that his eyesight
failed him.
Lord Hatherley suffered from defective eye
sight. The famous Bennett judgment, which was
delivered on June 8th, 1872, was read by the
Archbishop of York, at his request, because, as
he said, his own infirmity of sight rendered
prolonged reading painful to him. For some
time he had been contending with great inconve
nience arising from his failing eyesight. " Indeed,
all through his life," writes his biographer,* "he
had been dependent on one eye only ; the other
was what oculists term a ' conical eye,' which,
owing to undue convexity, was so near-sighted as
to be practically useless."
Moreover, unknown to him, a cataract had been
for many years forming upon his good eye.
Nevertheless, he fought on with indomitable
perseverance, and cheerfulness, against his daily
increasing infirmity, until his inability to read the
* " Memoir of Lord Hatheriey," W. R. W'. Stephens, ii., 241.
VOL. II. P

210 GREAT MEN AT PLA Y.
Queen's Message and other official documents in
the House convinced him that in the interests of
public business he ought not to protract the
struggle. Accordingly, about Michaelmas, 1872,
he resigned office, which was conferred upon Sir
Roundell Palmer (Lord Selborne). His eye was
afterwards successfully operated upon by Mr.
Bowman, and, in his days of enforced inactivity,
he made some progress in learning the raised
type made for the use of the blind, and took much
interest in visiting institutions for the blind, and
in aiding them by his benefactions.
Many of our great men have been afflicted with
deafness, which has proved a serious impediment
to their enjoyment of conversation. As is well
known Sir Robert Peel was deaf for twenty years
on the left side, attended with noises in the head
so excessive that he was frequently awakened by
them, and his rest destroyed for the remainder of
the night. This he attributed to excess in shoot
ing with percussion caps.
On growing deaf Lord Chesterfield quitted the
fashionable world, and spent the remainder of his
life at Blackheath, in the vicinity of the avenue
known as Chesterfield's Walk. Writing to a
friend in France, when he was about sixty, he
says :— " I have vegetated all this year without
pleasure, and. without pain. My age and my
deafness forbid the former, and my philosophy.

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS. 211
or perhaps my temperament, guarantees me
against the latter. I derive the best part of my
amusement from the tranquil pleasures of garden
ing, as well as from walking and reading,
meanwhile waiting for death, which I neither
desire nor fear.''
Henry Kirke White suffered from difficulty of
hearing, which was one of the reasons that
induced him to relinquish the law ; and, it may be
remembered, an accident caused the Duke of
Wellington serious inconvenience. When inspect
ing an experimental carriage for a howitzer, and
whilst in advance of the gun, he gave the word
" Fire," the result being the rupture of the
membrane of the left ear. The accident caused
the Duke much suffering, and eventually he
consulted Mr. W. Wright, who, in his " Treatise
on Deafness," says: — "I had several very long
conferences with him in the early portion of my
attendance, during which I explained to him the
anatomy, and functions, of the auditory apparatus,
and all the sense of hearing which he enjoyed
during the last thirty years of his life was
the result of my treatment. As an instance
of his dependence on me," he adds, " whilst
at Strathfieldsaye, he had been applying a
preparation to his ear improperly, and rendered
himself totally deaf. In that state he atten
ded her Majesty to the House of Lords to

2 12 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
open Parliament, on the 3rd February, 1852.
Immediately the ceremony was over, he sent his
under house steward in a carriage to request my
attendance. I exerted myself to the utmost, as
he wanted to speak in the House on the case of
Sir Harry Smith, and on the 6th I enabled him
to do so, and he commenced by telling their
lordships ' he could not have done so a few days
ago. Sir Joshua Reynolds suffered from deafness, in
connection with which Sir Martin Shoe used to
relate a singular fact. While at breakfast with
him in Leicester Square, 1790, and during a long
protracted interval which followed, the conversa
tion was carried on in the ordinary tone, without
any assistance from the acoustic tube or any indi
cation of imperfect hearing on the part of Sir
Joshua. During the morning, however, they were
not unfrequently interrupted by the entrance of a
servant with a message, or some communication,
that required his master's attention and oral
reply. On such occasions the appearance of a
third person was the signal for Sir Joshua to
snatch up his trumpet and resume a look of
anxious inquiry, and uncertain comprehension.
But it has been remarked that " it is no uncommon
thing for a deaf person to hear better in a tete-a-
tete colloquy than when surrounded by a buzz of

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS. 213
general conversation in a large party."* Anyhow,
in Sir Joshua's case the contrast seems to have
been unusually marked, and calculated to impart
a peculiar significance to Goldsmith's couplet —
When they talked of their Raphaels, Corregios, and stuff.
He shifted his trumpet and only took snuff.
Bishop Thirlwall's deafness, which varied at
times, often interfered with his enjoyment of con
versation, and there is a story related of his too
evident candour, when, on hearing a remark about
the weather, which had several times to be repeated
by a friend before he could catch its meaning, he
said, musingly thinking aloud, "Strang© how little
one loses by being deaf."t
Then there was Walter Savage Landor, con
cerning whose deafness TroUope, in his " What I
Remember," J relates an amusing anecdote: — "I
remember him asking after my mother. I told
him that she was fairly well, was not suffering,
but that she was becoming very deaf.
" ' Dead, is she ? ' he cried, for he had heard me
imperfectly. 'I wish I was. I can't sleep,' he
added, ' but I very soon shall, soundly too, and all
the twenty-four hours round.' "
Admiral Boscawen was remarkable for an
extraordinary inclination of the head towards one
* Shee's " Life of Sir Martin Shee."
t " Bishop Thirlwall's Letters," 1861, xiv.
:|: ii., 246.

214 GREAT MEN AT PLAY.
shoulder — a habit which he is said to have con
tracted when a youth by mimicking an old servant
of the family, and which he never afterwards
could get rid of.
From childhood, as is well known. Lord Byron
was extremely sensitive of his lameness. Indeed,
the story goes that even as a child he resented
allusion being made to his infirmity. " I have
been told by a gentleman of Glasgow," writes
Moore, " that the person who nursed his wife
used often to join the nurse of Byron when they
were out with their respective charges, and one
day said to her, as they walked together —
" ' What a pretty boy Byron is ! What a pity
he has such a leg I '
" On hearing this remark the child's eyes
flashed with anger, and, striking at her with a
little whip which he held in his hand, he exclaimed,
impatiently —
" ' Dinna' speak of it.' "
In after years, with evident reference to his
own fate, he thus writes : —
Deformity is daring.
It is its essence to o'ertake mankind
By heart and soul, and make itself the equal —
Ay, the superior of the rest. There is
A spur in its halt movements, to become
All that the others cannot, in such things
As still are free to both, to compensate
For stepdame Nature's avarice at first.

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS. 215
Sir Walter Scott, again, was lame in his right
limb, but his figure in early life, we are told,
" excepting the blemish in one limb, must have
been eminently handsome, being tall, much above
the usual standard."
The most remarkable feature of Ohatterton's
appearance were his eyes, which were grey and
very brilliant. One was brighter than the other,
appearing even larger than the other when flash
ing under strong excitement. It has been
described by George Calcott as " a kind of hawk's
eye," adding that "one could see his soul through
it." Barrett, who had observed him keenly as
an anatomist, said " he never saw such eyes, fir©
rolling at th© bottom of them." He acknowledged
to Sir Herbert Croft that he had often purposely
differed in opinion from Chatterton " to see how
wonderfully his eye would strike fire, kindle, and
blaze up."* * See " Diet, of Nat. Biog.," 1887, x., 151.

CHAPTER VIII.
DEESS.
Dr. Johnson — Lord Chesterfield — Captain Gronow — Beau
Brummell — Lord Alvanley — Sir Lumley Skeflington —
Edmund Burke — Sir Philip Francis — Earl of Chatham
— George Canning— Sir Charles Napier — Sir Walter
Scott— Duke of Wellington— Earl of Carlisle— Earl of
Beaconsfield — Lord Petersham — Lord Yarmouth —
Prince Regent — Lord Olive — Henry Grattan — Thomas
Campbell — Samuel Foote — Porson — Dr. Paley —
William Emerson — Thomson — Charles Howard, Duke
of Norfolk — Lord Kenyon — Gray — De Quincey — Gibbon
— Goldsmith — Mark Akenside — James Bruce — Jeremy
Bentham — Charles Lamb — Henry Cavendish — William
Battle — William Hazlitt — LordHatherley — T. Assheton
Smith.
DfiESS has always been one of the weaknesses of
our great men, many of whom have been just as
scrupulously careful of, as others have been in
different to, their personal appearance. But, in
some cases, even slovenliness would seem to have
arisen from eccentric vanity ; peculiarity in dress
having been fostered by a love of notoriety. On

DRESS. 217
the other hand, through being so much engrossed
and absorbed in the weightier matters of life,
many of our eminent men have disregarded any
thing like finery in dress, a habit which in time
has drifted into careless indifference. At the
same time Dr. Johnson, one of the greatest
slovens of his day, strongly inveighed against a
disregard of dress from a puritanical view of the
matter — " Let us not be found, when our Master
calls us, stripping the lace off our waistcoats, but
the spirit of our contention from our souls and
tongues. Alas ! sir, a man who cannot get to
heaven in a green coat will not find his way
thither the sooner in a grey one." Indifferent
as Johnson was to dress, he was evidently of
opinion that dress should be good, for he, on©
day, remarked — " Were I to have anything fine,
it should be very fine. Were I to wear a ring
it should not be a bawble, but a stone of great
value. Were I to wear a laced or embroidered
waistcoat, it should be very rich. I had once
a very rich laced waistcoat, which I wore the first
night of my tragedy."
Lord Chesterfield seems to have been of a
similar opinion respecting the quality of dress.
Writing to his son in May, 1749, he says — " Mr.
Hearte informs me that you are clothed in sump
tuous apparel. A young fellow should be so.

218 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
especially abroad, where fine clothes are so
generally the fashion. Next to their being fine,
they should be well made and worn easily ; for a
man is only the less genteel for a fine coat, if in
wearing it, he shows a regard for it, and is not as
lazy in it as if it were a plain one." We sub
sequently find Lord Chesterfield saying, that " at
his age he does not wear feathers and red heels,
but takes care to have his clothes well made, his
wig well combed and powdered, his linen and
person extremely clean."
For an amusing and descriptive account of the
dandies of sixty years ago — when dress was
carried to an extravagant height — we may refer
to " The Recollections " of Captain Gronow — a
noted dandy himself — who thus writes —
" They were a motley crew, with nothing about
them bub their insolence. They were generally
not high born, nor rich, nor very good looking,
nor clever, nor agreeable; and why they arro
gated to themselves the right of setting up their
own fancied superiority on a self-raised pedestal,
and despising their betters. Heaven only knows.
They were generally middle-aged, some even
elderly men, had large appetites and weak diges
tions, gambled freely and had no luck. They
hated everybody, and abused everybody, and
would sit for hours together in White's, or the

DRESS. 219
pit boxes at the opera, weaving 'tremendous
crammers.' They swore a good deal, never
laughed, had their own particular slang, looked
hazy after dinner, and had been, most of them,
patronized at one time or other by Brummell and
the Prince Regent."
About the year 1816 trousers began to be worn
for evening dress, and Captain Gronow, who
patronized a French tailor, tells us that he was
invited to Manchester House by Lady Hertford
" to have the honour of meeting the Prince."
He, accordingly, went to the ball attired k la
Frangaise, and, as he thought, in the newest
fashion, " with white neckcloth and waistcoat,
black trousers, shoes, and silk stockings." But,
he was much disconcerted by being informed in
the course of the evening that the Prince was
surprised at anyone venturing to appear in his
presence without knee-breeches, an omission
which he considered a want of proper respect
to him. In less than a month, however, even
the Prince himself attended Lady Cholmondeley's
wearing the objectionable article of dress which
in Captain Gronow's case had caused so much
dissatisfaction. Speaking of Beau Brummell, he, as is well
known, was the very foremost of fops ; but he
was not handsome, a fall from his charger while

220 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
be was in the 10th Hussars having spoilt the out
line of his nose. But he carried fashion with
him, and London tailors were only too pleased if
he condescended to be "rigged out for nothing."
A baronet, " following Brummell's dress at a
humble distance," asked Schneitzer, his tailor,
what cloth he recommended for coats. The
tailor answers, "Well, sir, the Prince wears
superfine, and Mr. Brummell the Bath coating;
but it is immaterial which you choose, Sir John,
you must be right. Suppose we say Bath coat
ing ? I think Mr. Brummell has a trifle the
preference." Some idea of the elaborate character of his
dress may be gathered from the fact that his
coat was generally of blue or brown cloth with
brass buttons, the tail reaching nearly to the
heels, and the collar raised at the back of the
head, like the hood of a monk. The buckskin or
nankeen breeches* " were so incredibly tight that
they could only be put on with immense labour,
and when on could only be taken off in the same
manner as an eel is divested of its skin." To this
was added a waistcoat about four inches long,
open on the chest, a frilled shirt, and a stiff,
white cravat which rendered all motion of the
head impossible, with Hessian boots. His laun
dress, again, was an important personage, and,
* See Temple Bar Magazine, Ixiii., 471.

DRESS. 221
when he dressed for dinner, he tried dozens of
neckcloths before he could pronounce the folds of
one perfection. Oftentimes his valet, pointing to
the heap of discarded muslin, would exclaim,
" There are our failures."
Another noted and fashionable dandy was
Lord Alvanley, of whom Moore writes : — " He
just hits that difficult line between the gentleman
and the jolly fellow, and mixes their shades
together very pleasantly." Although he wasted
a splendid fortune in the pursuit of pleasure, he
excelled in all manly sports and exercises, and
was a man of considerable ability, very superior
to the ordinary run of dandies. It was a joke
against Madam de Stael that she had praised him
to his face for his beauty, upon the understanding
that he possessed no less than one hundred
thousand a year — someone having hoaxed the
lady's credulity with a story to that effect.
Rumour said that she had planned to secure him
for her daughter Albertine, or " Libertine," as
Brummell was in the habit of calling her, without
the slightest foundation for such a perversion of
her name.
Equally famous for his extravagant dress was
Sir Lumley Skeffington, who actually painted his
face, which, as Captain Gronow says, made him
look like a French doll. He was most particular

222 GREAT MEN AT PLAY.
about his scents, his presence, it is said, having
reminded most persons of a perfumer's shop.
His dandyism naturally provoked ridicule, and
Moore, in his diary, alludes to someone having
aptly described him as " an admirable specimen
of the florid Gothic," while Lord Alvanley re
ferred to him as " A second edition of the Sleep
ing Beauty, bound in calf, richly gilt, and illus
trated by many cuts."
Edmund Burke was somewhat negligent in his
dress. According to Prior* he was distinguished
by a tight brown coat which seemed to impede
freedom of motion, and a little bob-wig with
curls, which, in addition to his spectacles, made
him easily recognized by those, who had never
previously seen him, the moment he rose to speak
in the House of Commons.
In his younger days Sir Philip Francis paid
attention to his attire, but later in life it was
fairly open to criticism. It was very difficult,
we are told, to make him believe that a coat which
had seen long service ought to be cashiered,
and he would uphold the merits of such a
garment in a manner which was alternately
the amusement, and the despair, of his family.
Occasionally, it is true, he would make an
elaborate toilette for the special honour of some
* " Life of Edmund Burke," J. Prior, 487.

DRESS. 223
lady whom he admired ; but a relapse soon
followed.* Scrupulously neat in his dress was Wm. Pitt,
Earl of Chatham. Indeed, it is said that he was
never seen on business without a full-dress coat
and a tie wig. Similarly, also, George Canning
was plain and simple in his dress, but in thorough
taste. Indeed, his personal appearance exactly
coincided with his character. " No man," it has
been observed, " was more far removed from pre
sumption or vanity. He was unostentatious,
accessible to the humblest individual ; he loved
simplicity, and was affable to those about him."
Admiral Sir Charles Napier was in early life
most eccentric in his dress, and many an anecdote
is told of olive-green coat, with gilt buttons,
which he wore until it was threadbare. But, as
years passed by, and, in the course of his career,
he had to contend with the frowns rather than
the smiles of fortune, he relaxed his peculiarities,
and found that the sterner duties of life required
his energy and consideration.
As a young man. Sir Walter Scott was neglect
ful of his dress, but, about the year 1790, he laid
aside his slovenliness, which, it would seem, had
given his friends occasion for ridiculing him.
According to his friend Mr. William Clark, " he
* See " Memoirs of Sir Philip Francis," Joseph Parkes, ii.,
397-8.

224 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
now did himself more justice in these little matters,
became fond of mixing in general female society,
and, as his friend expresses it, ' began to set up
for a squire of dames.' "
The Duke of Wellington was scrupulously neat
and clean in his dress, which varied very little.
In summer he might be recognized by " his low-
crowned, narrow-brimmed hat, his white cravat,
fastened with a silver buckle behind, his blue
frock, white waistcoat, and white trousers. In
winter there was the same hat, neckcloth, and
frock, with a waistcoat, blue, sometimes red, and
blue trousers. He never wore a great coat, but in
severe weather threw a short cloak or cape over his
shoulders, made of blue cloth, with a white lining.
His evening attire, except when he was in mourn
ing, consisted of a blue coat with metal buttons,
a white cravat and waistcoat, black breeches, and
silk stockings, or tight black pantaloons."* Any
how, it is not surprising that the Duke was neat in
his dress, when we are told that it took him from
half-past six to nine every morning to dress. f
Frederick, Earl of Carlisle, was at one time of
his life described as having been the best dressed
man about town, with the exception of Fox. As
is well-known, too, Earl Beaconsfield paid special
* Brialmont's " Life of Duke of Wellington," Edited by G.
R. Gleig, iv., 236.
t Maxwell's " Life of Wellington," 1852, 453.

DRESS. 225
attention to his dress, and in early life he was a
thorough dandy. On one occasion, when attend
ing an evening party at the Countess of Blessing-
ton's, we are told by an eye-witness how he was seen
sitting in the deep window, looking out upon
Hyde Park, with the last rays of daylight re
flected from the gorgeous gold flowers of a
splendidly embroidered waistcoat, patent-leather
pumps, a white stick with a black cord and tassel,
and a quantity of chains about his neck and
pockets, served to make him, even in the dim
light, a conspicuous object. The same authority
adds, " D'Israeli has one of the most remarkable
faces I ever saw. He is lividly pale, and but for
the energy of his action and the strength of his
lungs, would seem to be a victim of consumption.
His eye is black as Erebus, and has the most
mocking, lying-in-wait sort of expression con
ceivable. His mouth is alive with a kind of
waking and impatient nervousness, and when he
has burst forth, as he does constantly, with a
successful cataract of expression, it assumes a
curl of triumphant scorn that would be worthy of
Mephistopheles. His hair is as extraordinary as
his taste in waistcoats ; a thick heavy mass of jet-
black ringlets falls over his left cheek, almost to
his collarless stock, w^hile on the right temple it is
parted and put away with the smooth carelessness
VOL. II. Q

226 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
of a girl's, and shines most unctuously ' with thy
incomparable oil Macassar.' " Such was the
future eminent statesman, and however much
some may have sneered at what they considered
his " affectation " and " personal vanity," wise
and discerning men already saw indications in his
character of future eminence.
Then there was Lord Petersham, who flattered
himself upon his resemblance to the portraits of
Henry IV- of France. He was most fastidious
about his dress, and, it may be remembered,
invented a great-coat known for many years as a
Petersham. He had a passion for brown, his
carriages having been of that hue, as well as his
horses, harness, and livery. This eccentricity was
commonly supposed to have had reference to a
youthful affection of his lordship for a fair, but
fickle, widow of the name of Brown.
An intimate friend of the Prince Regent was Lord
Yarmouth — popularly known as " Red Herrings "
from his red whiskers and hair — who was also
conspicuous in his day for the fashion of his dress,
concerning whose foppish peculiarities many
humorous allusions occur. In the "Odes of
Horace, done into English by several persons of
fashion," a free translation of one* has been put
down to the Regent. It begins " Come Y — m — th,
* Lib. ii., Od. 9.

DRESS. 227
my boy, never trouble your brains," etc., and goes
on in the third stanza : —
Brisk let us revel, while revel we may.
For the gay bloom of fifty soon passes away,
And then people get fat,
And infirm, and — all that ;
And a wig, I confess it, so clumsily sits.
That it frightens the little loves out of their wits.
Thy whiskers, too, Y — m — th, alas ! even they.
Though so rosy they burn.
Too quickly must turn
(What a heart-breaking change for the whiskers) to grey.
Again, in the " new costume of the Ministers,"
the Regent is represented as asking himself,
" Whom shall I dress next ? "
He looks in the glass, but perfection is there.
Wig, whiskers, and chin-tufts, all right to a hair,
Not a single ex-curl on his forehead he traces.
For curls are like Ministers, strange as the case is,
The falser they are, the more firm in their places.
His coat he next views, but the coat, who could doubt ?
For his Y — m — th's own Frenchified hand cut it out.
The greatest care was paid by Lord Clive, even
to the most trifling part of his dress.* Writing on
one occasion from India, to his friend Mr. Orme,
he gives a most amusing instance of his extreme
care for his personal appearance. " T must now
trouble you," he says, " with a few commissions
concerning family affairs. Imprimis, what you
can produce must be of the best and finest you
can get for love or money ; two hundred shirts,
* " Memoirs of Lord Clive," ii., 182.

228 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
the wristbands worked, some of the ruffles worked
with a border, either in squares or points, and th©
rest plain ; stocks, neckcloth, and handkerchiefs
in proportion; three corge* of the finest stockings,
several pieces of plain and spotted muslin, three
yards wide, for aprons, book muslins, cambrics,
a few pieces of the finest dimity, and a complete
set of table linen, of Fort St. David's diaper, made
for the purpose."
In a list of packages which was sent to him at
Bengal by his father, one is a box of wigs, but
whether Clive resorted to this ornament from
want of hair, or from deference to the fashion of
the period, is uncertain. Anyhow, there is an
anecdote of his boyhood which proves how essen.
tial a wig was considered to all who were well
dressed. Clive had been admitted by a relation
to be one of the spectators when George IL
visited the Tower of London. " Nothing:," we
are told, " was wanted in the boy's dress to pre
pare him for the honour of approaching majesty
except a wig. To supply this want one was lent
him by his relative — who was Captain of the
Tower — and his appearance in this costume was
so singular as to attract the notice and smiles of
the King, who inquired who he was, and spoke to
him in a very kind and gracious manner."t
* A corge is twenty pair. -j- Ibid., ii., 183.

DRESS. 229
Henry Grattan was slovenly in his dress, and
Sir Jonah Barrington has given an amusing
account of his appearance at an advanced period
of his life. It seems that a Colonel Burr and Mr.
Randolph, from America, anxious to behold the
great Irish orator, were taken one morning to his
house by Sir Jonah. After waiting a time, " at
length the door opened, and in hopped a small,
bent figure — meagre, yellow, and ordinary, with
one slipper and one shoe, his breeches' knees
loose, his cravat hanging down, his shirt and his
coat sleeves tucked up high, and an old hat upon
his head." Much was their surprise on being
informed that this eccentric-looking person was
the great Grattan.
Thomas Campbell was a dandy, and Byron
speaks of him as " dressed to spruceness," with
a blue coat and a new wig, and looking as if
Apollo had sent him a birthday suit or a wedding
garment ; and yet he was careless in his manners
and habits, and Lady Morgan relates that when
dining with Lord Aberdeen, Manners Sutton, and
the Duchess of Gordon, he put his knife in the
salt-cellar to help himself to the condiment.
Strangely inconsistent in many things was
Samuel Foote, and especially in his dress. His
clothes were tawdrily splashed. with gold lace, and
it is said that in his young days, and in the flue-

230 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
tuation of his finances, he walked about in boots
to conceal his want of stockings, and, that on
receiving a supply of money, he expended it all
upon a diamond ring, instead of purchasing the
necessary articles of hosiery.
Many are the amusing anecdotes told of
Person's slovenly attire. One evening he went
to a ball at the assembly rooms at Bath, escorted
by Dr. Davis, a physician of the place, who intro
duced him to the Rev. Richard Warner. When
Porson separated from him. King, the master of
the ceremonies, stepped forward and said —
" Pray, Mr. Warner, who is that man you have
been speaking to ? I can't say I much like his
appearance." " To own the truth," says Warner,* " Porson,
with lank, uncombed locks, a loose neckcloth, and
wrinkled stockings, exhibited a striking contrast
to the gorgeous crowd around. I replied, how
ever," he continues —
"Who is that gentleman, Mr. King? The
greatest man that has visited your rooms since
their first erection. It is the celebrated Porson,
the most profound scholar in Europe, who has
more Greek under that mop of hair than can be
found in all the heads in the room — aye, if we even
include those of the orchestra."
* " Warner's Lit. Recollections," ii., 6.

DRESS. 231
" Indeed," said the dancing- master, who at
once went off to attend to his dancing.
On another occasion his friend Cleaver Banks
invited him to din© with him at an hotol at the
West End, but he never made his appearance.
Afterwards, when Banks asked him why he had
not kept his engagement, Porson replied that he
" had come." Banks could only conjecture that
the waiters, seeing his shabby dress, and not
knowing who he was, had offered him some
insult, which had made him indignantly return
home.* Sometimes he was so dirty and untidy
as to be refused admittance by servants at the
houses of his friends. He once walked out of
town with Beloe to Highgate, and on their return
they were overtaken by a violent shower of rain,
and both drenched to the skin. On arriving at
Beloe's residence warm and dry cloaks were pro
vided for them, but Porson obstinately refused to
make any change in his dress. He drank three
glasses of brandy, but sat in his wet garments
the whole evening.
Dr. Paley, in early life, was very careless about
his dress, which gave rise to a proverbial remark,
long traditional in his college — Christ's, Cambridge
— " You may be a sloven, but don't think you are
a Paley." Accordingly he attracted, says his
* Rogers' Table Talk, " Porsoniana," 305.

232 GREA T MEN A T PLAY.
biographer,* " more than common notice when
he appeared in the public schools to keep his first
act, under Mr. Blakeway, of Magdalen College,
in which Mr. Hall, of St. John's, was his first
opponent, with his hair full dressed, and in a deep
ruffled shirt and new silk stockings, which, aided
by his gestures, his actions, and his whole manner,
when earnestly engaged in the debate, excited no
small mirth among the spectators."
In his dress William Emerson was shabby and
untidy, wearing a dirty wig half off his head, and
a hat which, when the rim had lost its elasticity,
was cut by him, with a pair of shears, into the
shape of a jockey's cap.
Indifferent, again, as far as his dress was con
cerned, was the poet Thomson, his clothes gener
ally having been remarkably plain, and carelessly
put on. But he was particular about his wig,
and William Taylor, who regularly dressed the
poet, and kept in order his numerous wigs, says :
— " He was very extravagant with his wigs. I
have seen a dozen at a time hanging up in my
master's shop, and all of them so big that nobody
else could wear them."
So careless and slovenly in his dress was
Charles Howard, Duke of Norfolk, that on one
occasion he created " a buzz of wonder " in the
* Meadley's " Memoirs of Paley," 28.

DRESS. 233
House of Lords by appearing in a new coat, and
on another, while sitting in the front row of a
box at the theatre, he was supposed to be a place-
keeper, and threatened with an ignominious
expulsion for not retiring at the end of the first
act. Almost as shabby and sordid in his attire was
Lord Kenyon, whose dress, it is said, when a
leading advocate at the bar, would have disgraced
a copying clerk. Indeed, the wits of his day went
so far as to maintain that when he kissed hands
upon his elevation to the attorney's place, he
actually went into court in a second-hand suit
purchased from Lord Stormont's valet.
In the letter attributed to him by a clever writer
in the Bolliard, he is represented as saying : —
" My income has been cruelly estimated at seven,
or, as some will have it, eight thousand pounds
per annum. I shall save myself the mortification
of denying that I am rich, and refer you to th©
constant habits and whole tenour of my life. The
proof to my friends is easy. My tailor's bill for
the last fifteen years is a record of the most
indisputable authority. Malicious souls may direct
you, perhaps, to Lord Stormont's valet de chambre,
and can vouch th© an©cdote, that on the day when
I kissed hands for my appointment to the office of
Attorney General I appeared in a lace waistcoat.

234 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
but despise the insinuation ; nor is this the only
instance in which I am obliged to diminish my
wants, and apportion them to my very limited
means. Lady K. will be my witness that until
my last appointment I was an utter stranger to
the luxury of a pocket handkerchief."
Lord Kenyon's curious eccentricity gave rise
to many ludicrous stories. Thus, it is related that,
on one occasion, " in the case of an action brought
for the non-fulfilment of a contract on a large
scale for shoes, the question mainly was whether
or not they were well and soundly made, and with
the best materials. A number of witnesses were
called ; one of them, a first-rate hand in the crafty
being closely questioned, returned contradictory
answers, when the Chief Justice observed, pointing
to his own shoes, which were regularly bestridden
by the broad silver buckle of the day —
" ' Were the shoes anything like these ? '
"'No, my lord,' replied the witness, 'they
were a good deal better, and more genteeler.' "
In his appearance and gait, Gray was finical,
paying a foppish attention to dress ; and D©
Quincey, in his " Autobiographical Recollections,"
amusingly relates how, when quite a lad, he was
walking with his elder brother in the neighbour
hood of Greenhays, the paternal mansion on the
outskirts of Manchester, a boy issued from a

DRESS. 235
factory, and called out insultingly after them,
" Halloa ! bricks," adding derisive shouts of
" Boots ! boots ! " in allusion to the fact that they
were wearing Hessian boots — " a crime that could
not be forgotten in Lancashire of that day, because
it expressed the double offence of being aristo
cratic, and being outlandish."
Gibbon, although he paid attention to his attire,
and was in harmony amongst those with whom
he mixed, was not given to ostentatious parade.
George Coleman introduces him in one of his
sketches as a kind of set-off to Johnson. " On
the day I first sat down with Johnson in his rusty
brown suit and his black worsted stockings,
Gibbon," he adds, " was placed opposite me in a
suit of flowered velvet, with a bag and sword."
Clothes, again, were destined to make Goldsmith
ridiculous through life, his passion for misplaced
finery justly exciting the laughter even of his
friends. He began his silly extravagance in his
student days, at Edinburgh, and Mr. Forster
quotes from a set of tailor's bills in which appear
such items as "silver hat-lace," "rich sky-blue
satin," "Genoa velvet," and "best superfine high
claret coloured cloth," at nineteen shilbngs a yard.
In short, as the Edinburgh Reviewer says, " he was
one of the frights whom we sometimes see, in both
sexes, haunted by a strange passion to attract

236 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
attention in an ungainly person by misplaced
finery." His appearance before the Bishop in scarlet
breeches, when a candidate for orders, mar
vellously corresponds with his strutting up and
down the room, at the Literary Club, bragging of
his dress. When, too, he tried to practice as a
doctor, he got by hook or by crook a black velvet
suit, and looked, writes Thackeray, " as big and
as grand as he could, and kept his hat over a
patch on the old coat. In better days he bloomed
out in plum-colour, in blue silk, and new velvet."
Who can wonder, then, that Joseph Warton and
Horace Walpole talked of the solemn coxcomb
" silly Doctor Goldsmith ? "
Those again who liked him, and admired
his talent, could not keep their countenance
at his awkward finery. It was only natural
that the boys should hoot at him in the streets;
oftentimes, also, he would reproach himself
with buying a suit to look in it like a fool. But,
unfortunately, the acknowledgment of a fault
and the reformation of it are two things which had
not the slightest connection in the life of Goldsmith.
He persevered in the same habit. On one occasion
Sir Joshua Reynolds found him kicking a bundle
about his room, which contained an expensive
masquerade dress. Its temporary end having

DRESS. 237
been served, he was trying, he said, to extract the
value from it in exercise.
Mark Akenside, more generally known as a poet
than a physician, was known for the neatness and
elegance of his dress. " He wore a large white,
stiff-curled wig, and carried a long sword; and
this, it is said, together with a hitch in his gait,
and a pale, pompous, and solemn countenance,
made his appearance altogether unpromising, if not
grotesque." The famous traveller, James Bruce, paid par
ticular attention to his dress, especially during his
travels, the fatigue and danger of which, it is said,
never prevented him from appearing in the most
elegant costume of the different countries he
visited. But, as has been observed, this care of
his personal appearance was only in accordance
with the character, which oftentimes showed
indications of pomposity and ostentation, especially
when he was Consul. Thus the story runs, that
the Bey of Cairo having, after a long conversation,
ordered him a purse of sequins, he declined accept
ing anything more than a single orange, saying to
the Bey, who requested to know his reason, "I am
an Englishman, and the servant of the greatest king
in Europe ; it is not the custom of my country to
receive pecuniary gratuities from foreign princes,
without the approbation of our sovereign."

238 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y
From Jeremy Bentham's memoranda, and his
letters, it is plain that he must have been as
picturesque in his conversation as in his dress.
At home, in his hermitage, he was of striking
appearance — his white hair, long and flowing, his
neck bare, in a quaker cut coat, list shoes, and
white worsted stockings drawn over his breeched
knees. In his own secluded home he was no
respecter of persons, and here is one of his private
dinner parties : — " I should like to invite a Yankee
and a negro, a lord and a beggar, to my table."
In short, his life and habits were throughout
characteristic of the man, and he had long outlived
even the wish to be taken notice of even by lords.
A curious eccentricity of Charles Lamb was
always to dress in black. "I take it," he says,
" to be the proper costume of an author." When
this peculiarity of dress was once objected to at a
wedding, he pleaded the rarest apology in the
fable, that " he had no other." His clothes were
entirely black, and he wore long black gaiters up
to the knees.
The famous chemist, Henry Cavendish, was
eccentric in his mode of dress, for he always wore
clothes made of grey cloth — a fashion which had
been popular in his youthful days. In this respect
he was not unlike the well-known politician, John
Cartwright, who never changed the make of his

DRESS. 239
clothes to suit the fashions of the day. And yet,
he was so graceful in his deportment, and so
thoroughly carried the airs of a gentleman, that,
a young lady once remarked : —
" If I had seen Major Cartwright begging and
in rags, I must have instinctively bowed to him."
Among other eccentricities, the distinguished
physician, William Battle, would, during his
sojourns in the country, dress like, and aim to be
taken for, one of his own day labourers; a
peculiarity which oftentimes, naturally, caused
much amusement amongst his friends.
Again, William Hazlitt was generally untidy in
his dress, and never enjoyed the credit of having
new clothes. But a friend, who knew him well
during the last thirteen years of his life, said that
he was never more astonished than when he saw
Hazlitt ready-dressed to go to dinner at Mr.
Curran's. On this occasion he wore " a blue coat
and gilt buttons, black smalls, silk stockings, and
a white cravat, and he looked the gentleman."
But, we are told, he did not often do himself this
justice ; the process of the toilet proved irksome.
It is true his second wife coaxed him for a time
into conforming to the fashions of the day, but it
was not for long that she was successful, and
abandoned the attempt in despair.
Lord Hatherley was excessively tenacious of

240 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
all habits and customs which he had once adopted,
and, we are told,* he must have been nearly, if
not quite the last man in England, who wore a
blue tail coat and metal buttons, which he con
tinued to do down to the year 1862, or about the
time when he became judge.
T. Assheton Smith was in the habit of saying of
himself, that he was the plainest man in England,
but generally added, " that fellow Jack Musters
spoilt my beauty,"! his famous battle with him
having been long spoken of by Etonians as one of
the most hard fought battles ever recorded in the
annals of youthful pugilism. His ordinary dress
was a blue coat with brass buttons, and a buff
waistcoat. During the hunting season he dined
in scarlet, the inside of his coat being lined with
white silk.
* " Memoirs of Lord Hatherley," W. R. W. Stephens, ii.,
279. t Mr. Musters is well known to every reader of Lord Byron,
as the successful rival of the poet for the hand of Mary
Chaworth. See " Life of T. Assheton Smith," by Sir J. E.
Wilmot, 158.

CHAPTER IX.
FACULTr OP MEMOET.
Henry Fawcett — General Chatterie — Edmund Burke — Sir
James Mackintosh— Lord North— Sir Sydney Smith— Duke
of Wellington — Lord Clyde — Lord Nelson — Dr. Johnson —
Dr. George Fordyce — Porson — Hugh Miller — Sir Walter
Scott — Lord Byron — Bishop Warburton — Dr. Samuel
Clarke — Dean Milman — Dean Milner — Abernethy — Lord
Stowell — Lord Hardwicke — Charles Mathews — Dr.
Priestley — Macready — James Watt — Sir William Hamil
ton — Theodore Hook — -Walter Savage Landor — Henry
Crabb Robinson — John Kemble — Lord Macaulay — Prof.
Conington — George Grote — Sir George Cornewall Lewis
— Charles Darwin — Thomas Carlyle — De Quincey — Lord
Plunket.
It has been often said that one of the primary
qualifications of a great man is power of memory,
but, in numerous instances, this faculty has been
exhibited in such a marked degree as to create
surprise even amongst those noted for the strength
of their memories. Illustrations of such feats of
memory, apart from their psychological value,
VOL. II. E

242 GREA T MEN A T PLA P.
have always attracted interest and admiration,
although they have deepened the puzzle as to
why, in some men, memory should be strong, and
in others weak. Problems of this kind, however
difficult of solution they may be, only add to the
marvels that surround human life, and, in spite
of undergoing patient inquiry, will probably ever
remain unsolved. Thus, in our Parliamentary
history, a curious instance of memory occurred
some years ago, and one which, recorded in Grant's
" Random Recollections of the House of Com
mons," is of special interest at the present time : —
" This gentleman (Mr. Tennent, M.P. for Belfast),
on the occasion of Mr. O'Connell's motion for the
repeal of the union in 1834, actually repeated a
speech against the measure, without the least
hesitation in a single instance, or the slightest
mistake, which occupied him three hours and a
half in the delivery, and, what renders the effort
still more surprising, it was a speech full of
minute calculations and figures. He was so con
fident of the trustworthiness of his memory that
he sent the manuscript of his speech to the news
paper before he delivered it."
With this extraordinary effort of memory may
be compared the delivery of a speech by Mr.
Fawcett at Brighton in the year ]874. Before
delivering it we are told that he rehearsed the

FA CULTY OF MEMOR Y. 243
whole of it to one of the leading reporters who
had called on him for the chief points on which he
intended to speak. Later on, while the speech
proper was being delivered, the original copy
made at the rehearsal was checked over, word for
word, and, from beginning to end, so perfectly
had the speech been committed to memory, there
was not one single mistake, except that in one
place a word had been substituted for its equiva
lent in the notes.
Similarly, many astounding stories are told of
the marvellous feats of memory of General
Chatterie; and in the Eield for January 20,
1886, in an obituary notice of this well-
known man it is said : — " On the goodness of
his memory we have before remarked, and we
will confirm it by stating that, for a bet, he
learned the Morning Post of a particular day, and
repeated every word of it, including advertise
ments." But, as a correspondent of " Notes and
Queries " has pointed out, this statement has
never been verified, although the fact of his
extraordinary memory has never been denied.
A striking instance of the powers of memory
was exemplified in the case of Edmund Burke, of
whom many interesting anecdotes are told. On
one occasion he met at a dinner party an Arch
deacon of Brecon, a man of considerable learning

244 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
and antiquarian research, who started several sub
jects of conversation that few of the company felt
inclined, or qualified, to discuss. For some time
Burke remained silent, until, in the midst of a
fluent account of some of Caesar's operations in
Britain, he stopped the Archdeacon by pointing
out a material error as to facts, which changed
the whole complexion of the story.
An obscure Latin work was next quoted, when
Burke again corrected the Archdeacon, and, on a
scarce volume of ancient geography being men
tioned, Burke proved himself well acquainted with
the book in question.
At the close of the evening, when the guests
took their departure, the Archdeacon, who
naturally felt somewhat humiliated, honestly re
marked : " I confess I went previously prepared
to speak on these subjects, for, knowing that I
was to meet him, and hearing that he was
acquainted with almost everything, I had deter
mined to put his knowledge to the test, and, for
this purpose, had spent much of the morning in
my study. My memory, however, proved more
treacherous than I had imagined."
Equally gifted in his memory was Sir James
Mackintosh, who sometimes startled his friends
by the fund of information he would impart on
all conceivable subjects, remembering " thino-s

FA CUL TY OF MEMOR Y. 245
words, thoughts, dates, and everything that was
wanted." * In the course of his conversation the
great thoughts and fine sayings of the eminent
men of all ages " were ultimately present to his
recollection, and came out in a dazzling and
delightful" manner.
Notwithstanding Lord North's " disagreeable
utterance, inelegant delivery, and awkward
manner," his extraordinary power of language
and command of memory made him an effective
speaker. Indeed, his memory was so retentive
that " it enabled him to carry in his mind every
argument that had been urged in the course of a
debate. His extensive knowledge of books and
men, his abundance of shrewd common sense, his
perfect presence of mind and complete mastery
over his temper, and lastly, his thorough know
ledge of the rules, constitution, and character of
the House of Commons, unquestionably qualified
him to figure as a debater of no mean order."t
Sir Sidney Smith had an extraordinary memory
always ready, and could repeat pages of poetry,
English, Latin, and French, but when, where, or
how he learned them no one of his family pre
tended to know. Anyhow, they were always
ready and appropriate in company, when conver
sation turned that way.
* " Life of Sir J. Mackintosh," ii., 499-500.
t Jesse's " Celebrated Etonians," ii., 251.

246 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
Of the great tenacity of the Duke of WeUing-
ton's memory many anecdotes are told. His
memory never forsook him to the last, and mani
fested itself in the management of great as of
small matters. Thus, in the year 1843, when the
terror of the Sikh invasion was at its height, the
Duke was requested by the Government of the
day to draw up a plan for the defence of India.
He did so, and his memorandum, says Lord
Ellesmere, " embraced all three presidencies, and
was full of geographical details. It had been
written, as he told me, without reference either to
a map or a gazetteer."*
While Inspector-General of Infantry, Lord
Clyde gave a signal proof of the remarkable
faculty he possessed for remembering those who
had served under him. " While I was inspecting
the depot at Chichester," he says, " I noticed that
an old man — evidently a soldier, though in plain
clothes — was constantly on the ground watching
my movements. At the end of the inspection, as
I was leaving the barrack-yard, he came towards
me, drew himself up, made the military salute,
and, with much respect, said —
" ' Sir Colin, may I speak to you ? Look at
me, sir. Do you recollect me ? '
* See Brailmont's " Life of Wellington,'' edit, by G. R.
Gleig, iv., 259.

FA CUL TY OF MEMOR Y. '2.^1
" I looked at him, and replied —
" ' Yes, I do.'
" ' What is my name ? '
" I told him.
" ' Yes, sir, and where did you last see me ? '
" ' In the breach of San Sebastian, badly
wounded by my side.'
" ' Right, sir.'
" ' I can tell you something more. You were
No. — , in the front rank of my company.'
" ' Right, sir.' "
This was one of those rare instances of memory
which, but for the authenticity of the record,
would almost be regarded as incredible.
In the same way. Lord Nelson never forgot a
face that he had once seen. The story goes that
during a visit to Salisbury, in December, in the
year 1800, he recognized one sailor among the
crowd who had served under him at the Nile, and
another who had assisted at the amputation of his
arm, after the unsuccessful attack on Santa Cruz.
Throughout life, Dr. Johnson, as is well known,
was eminent for his wonderful memory, his recol
lection of facts having been almost incredible.
Indeed, when only a child in petticoats, his mother
one morning put the Common Prayer Book in his
hands, pointed to the Collect for the day, and
said —

248 GREAT MEN AT PLAY.
" Sam, you must get this by heart."
She went upstairs, but, by the time she had
reached the second floor, she heard him following
her. " What's the matter ? " said she.
" I can say it," he replied ; and he did so,
though he could not have read it more than
once. But, marvellously good as Johnson's memory
was, he one day remarked, "Memory will play
strange tricks. One sometimes loses a single
word; I once lost /w^^-aces in the ode " Posthume,
Posthume." " I mentioned to him," adds Boswell, " that a
worthy gentleman of my acquaintance actually
forgot his own name. To which he replied —
' Sir, that was a morbid oblivion.' "
Dr. George Fordyce, to whom reference has
already been made, had a prodigious memory, and
even composed his works for publication from the
store laid up in his retentive mind.
Person's memory, it may be remembered, was
so retentive that he actually once remarked it
was a source of misery to him, as he could never
forget anything — even what he wished not to
remember. In truth, so marvellous was his
memory that there were, it is said, few subjects
concerning which he was not able to illustrate his

FA CULTY OF MEMOR Y. 249
knowledge, by quotations from the writings of his
own, and other countries.
Hugh Miller's memory was full of English
poetry, and, at sauntering times, in waiting for
omnibuses, or the like, he would pour out stanza
after stanza with astonishing profusion.
Again, numerous illustrations are recorded of
Sir Walter Scott's splendid memory. " Not only,''
writes Lockhart, " did he recollect every stanza
of any ancient ditty of chivalry, or romance, that
had once excited his imagination, but it seemed
as if he remembered everything without exception,
if it were in anything like the shape of verse, that
he had ever read." Hogg used to relate, that one
day, lamenting in Sir Walter Scott's presence his
having lost his only copy of a long ballad composed
by him in his early days, and of which he then
could recall merely the subject and one or two
fragments, Scott said to him, with a smile,
" Take your pencil, Jamie, and I'll dictate your
ballad to you word for word," which was done
accordingly. Lockhart also gives the following
anecdote related by Andrew Shortrede : — " One
morning at breakfast, in my father's house, shortly
after one of Sir Walter's severe illnesses, he was
asked to partake of some of ' the baked meats
that coldly did furnish forth the breakfast table.'
" ' No, no,' he answered ; ' I bear in mind at

250 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
present. Bob, the advice of your old friend. Dr.
Weir —
" ' From season'd meats avert your eyes,
From hams, and tongues, and pigeon pies —
A venison pasty set before ye.
Each bit you eat — memento mori.'
" This was a verse of a clever rhyming pre
scription sent out some thirty years before,
and which my father then remembered to have
repeated upon one of the Liddesdale raids. The
verses had almost entirely escaped his memory,
but Sir Walter was able to give us a long screed
of them."
Lord Byron, again, had a fine memory, and
richly laden with information, he often astonished
his friends by the versatility of his knowledge.
A ripe scholar, Bishop Warburton, was gifted
with a copious memory, which enabled him to
illustrate his conversation with the most rich and
varied stories of learning. Indeed, his knowledge
of books, it is said, was so wide as to allow him
to speak on almost any subject. Charles York,
who met him at his first visit to Pope, represents
himself as dehghted with the opportunities which
he had of conversing with him ; describing him
as a man " surprisingly communicative, of
prodigious memory, and of enchanting fancy."
" The fluency and correctness of his conversation,"
he adds, " were beyond most men."

FA CULTY OF MEMOR Y. 251
Dr. Samuel Clarke, who was always remarkable
for his careful economy of time, generally carried
a book in his pocket, and is said never to have
forgotten anything he had once learned.
His wonderful memory enabled Dean Milman
to turn his extensive reading, whenever necessary,
to good account. One story is told of his readi
ness in quoting from the " Fathers." He " was
walking with Dr. Liddon, then a young man, on a
visit to Lamborne, who was going to preach the
Latin sermon before the University of Oxford.
Mr. Liddon told him the subject he intended to
select, and asked him if he remembered anything
in St. Augustine bearing upon it. He walked
on two or three minutes in silence, and then began
quoting passages from St. Augustine which
occurred to him."*
He frequently lectured at the Theological
College, at Cuddesdon, and in the year 1865, being
asked one day to lecture on " St. Cyprian and
St. Anselm " the following week, he replied, " I
will come; I have read all Anselm." The im
pression made by his lectures was thus described
by one of his hearers : — " They took my fancy
immensely ; I had never heard such a speaker as
Mr. Milman. He appeared familiar with all the
* " Memoirs of Robert Milman, D.D.," by Frances Maria
Milman, 1879, 8.

252 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
history, philosophy, and general life of those ages.
I think his lectures gave me more help in forming
my ideas about the mediaeval Church, and the re
lation of philosophy to religion, than anything I
ever read or heard."
Similarly, Dean Milner was gifted with a fine
memory, which enabled him effectually to retain
the stores of learning which he had amassed.* He
possessed, too, in an extraordinary degree, the
useful faculty of being able at any moment to
call all his powers into full action. " Whatever
subject might be proposed," writes his niece, " he
was always able to seize at once upon its main
points, and to bring his varied resources im
mediately to bear upon it."
Among some of the curious illustrations of
Abernethy' s remarkable memory may be quoted a
well-known one, which is an instance of his
playful humour in social life : — A friend, dining
with him, on a birthday of Mrs. Abernethy' s, had
composed some verses in honour of the occasion,
which he repeated to the family circle after dinner.
" Ah ! " said Abernethy, smiling, " that is a
good joke, now, your pretending to have written
those verses."
His friend simply rejoined, " That, such as they
were, they were certainly his own."
* " Life of Dean Milner," by Mary Milner, 1842, 717.

FA CULTY OF MEMOR Y. 253
After a little good-natured bantering, he began
to grow annoyed at Abernethy' s apparent in
credulity, who, thinking it time to finish the joke,
said —
" I know those very verses very well, and
could say them by heart."
His friend, somewhat incredulous, was soon
convinced by Abernethy's repeating them through
out correctly, and with the greatest apparent
ease.* For table-talk Lord Stowell had a high reputa
tion ; for his memory, enriched with the spoils of
all ages, was tenacious and ready. " At times,"
says Mr. Surtees, " he would exhibit vast stores
of learning; his classical quotations, often humor
ously applied, being always effective. A striking
anecdote has been recorded of Lord Chancellor
Hardwicke, which proves the extraordinary power
of his memory, and the attention which he
bestowed on his religious as well as secular
duties : — One day Dr. Nicolls called on him for the
purpose of presenting to his lordship the newly-
published sermons of Bishop Sherlock, most of
which had been preached at the Temple Church,
where Lord Hardwicke was in the habit of at
tending divine service while a bencher of that
Society. The Chancellor asked Dr. Nicolls if
* "Memoirs of Abernethy," by G. Macilwain, 1856, 19-20.

254 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
there was not a sermon on St. John xx.,
V. 30-31, among the collection, and on being
told there was, the Lord Chancellor desired him
to turn to the conclusion, and at once repeated the
eloquent passage with which the sermon ends, and
which he had retained in his memory from having
heard the sermon preached thirty years before.*
Charles Mathews prided himself on his tenaci
ous memory, and in writing his life tells us that
he never kept a journal, or diary, or made a
memorandum of a conversation in his life. And
yet, he adds, "I fearlessly pledge myself to the
declaration that I can perfectly recollect and repeat
most of the anecdotes, and conversations, of re
markable persons, whom I have met in early life,
with as much facility as I related them at the time
they happened."
When acting he could never bear to be prompted,
and any attempt to do so would have increased
his embarrassment had he been imperfect. On
only one occasion during his professional career
did his memory fail him.f Early in his London
engagement at the Haymarket he had to perform
" Caleb Quotem," in the Wags of Windsor. On
appearing on the stage, instead of the usual
address, he bowed to Mr. Farley, who performed
* " Life of Lord Hardwicke," ii., 479.
t " Life and Correspondence of C. Mathews," 1860, 116.

FACULTY OF MEMORY. 255
" Captain Beaugard," and, after a minute's pause,
said to him —
" My name, sir, is ' Lingo.' "
Mr. Farley, quite thrown off his guard by the
extraordinary lapse in the actor's memory, ex
claimed, quickly —
" The devil it is ! "
The audience laughed, and Mathews was in his
turn puzzled. In vain the prompter and per
formers endeavoured to convey the right speech,
but, fortunately, at length his recollection returned,
and he proceeded with his usual volubility and cor
rectness. Mathews never could account for this
failure of memory, for he was not in a nervous
state, and, as his biographer says, " was never in
the most trifling degree addicted to the poisoned
cup." Alluding to failure of memory, it may be re
membered that Dr. Priestley laid occasionally
under such intellectual disadvantage. Thus, to
quote his own words, " I have, from an early
period, been subject to a most humbling failure of
recollection, so that I have sometimes lost all
ideas of both persons and things that I have been
conversant with. I have so completely forgotten
what I have myself published that, in reading my
own writings, what I find in them often appears
perfectly new to me, and I have more than once

256 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
made experiments, the results of "which had been
published by me."
He also records another equally strange experi
ence, and writes : — " I had to ascertain something
which had been the subject of much discussion
relating to the Jewish Passover, and, for that pur
pose, had to consult and compare several writers.
This I accordingly did, and digested the result in
the compass of a few paragraphs, which I wrote
in shorthand. But, having mislaid the paper, and
my attention having been drawn off to other
things, in the space of a fortnight I did the same
thing over again, and should never have dis
covered that I had done it twice if, after the
second paper was transcribed for the press, I had
not accidentally found the former, which I viewed
with a degree of terror."
Like Mathews, Macready had a wonderfully
retentive memory, an interesting instance of which
he gives in his " Reminiscences." It seems that,
during a fortnight's campaign at Dumfries, the
attendance was uniformly good, but as several of
the company had been drafted off to Leicester, the
stock of plays was therefore limited. But " a
night closed would have been so much money
refused. All our available plays were arranged,
and for one night there was none within our
scanty company's means. It occurred to me that

FACULTY OF MEMORY. 257
all the players had acted in the Eoundling of the
Forest, and, sending for the prompter to ascertain
it, I desired him to bring me the book, that I
might study 'Florian' for the occasion.
" ' Sir, there is no book,' was his answer.
" This seemed checkmate, but, from having got
up the play at Newcastle, and having been present
several times at its performance three years before,
I recollected much of the part, and observing to
him that as the players would be able to repeat to
me their cues {i.e., the ends of my speeches to
them), I would answer for managing it, and
ordered the play to be announced."
The play went off successfully, and with great
applause from a very full attendance.
From an early age James Watt was noted for
his retentive memory, and when upwards of
eighty years of age he paid a visit to Scotland.
Sir Walter Scott, speaking of this occasion,
tells us that there were assembled to meet him
" about half a score of our Northern Lights," and
adds : — " His talents and fancy overflowed on
every subject. One gentleman was a deep philo
logist. He talked with him on the origin of the
alphabet as if he had been coeval with Cadmus.
Another — a celebrated critic — you would have
said the old man had studied political economy
and belles-lettres all his life. Of science it is
VOL. II. s

258 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
unnecessary to speak — it was his own distin
guished walk. And yet. Captain Clutterbuck,
when he spoke with your countryman, Jedediah
Cleishbotham, you would have sworn he had been
coeval with Claver'se and Burley, with the perse
cutors and persecuted, and could number every
shot the dragoons had fired at the fugitive Cove
nanters. In fact, we discovered that no novel of
the least celebrity escaped his perusal, and that
the gifted man of science was as much addicted
to the productions of your native country — in
other words, as shameless and obstinate a peruser
of novels — as if he had been a very milliner's
apprentice of eighteen."
His astonishing memory, it has been remarked,
was aided, no doubt, in a great measure by
a still higher and rarer faculty — by his power
of digesting and arranging in its proper place
all the information he received, and of casting
aside and rejecting, as it were, instinctively
whatever was worthless or immaterial. Every
conception that was suggested to his mind
seemed instantly to take its place amongst its
other rich furniture, and to be condensed into the
smallest and most convenient form.*
Like his character. Sir William Hamilton's
memory — which was unusually retentive — was
* See Muirhead's " Life of Watt," 513-14.

FACULTY OF MEMOR Y. 259
singularly precise and orderly in storing up, and
reproducing when necessary, what had been laid
up in it. There was a system of method in what
he retained in his memory that enabled him with
an amazing promptness to display, when occasion
required, any facts or theories. " His faculty,"
writes Mr. Veitch,* " was little, if at all, impaired,
even to the latter end of life, and many of his
students, even during the latter years of his teach
ing, will remember the vast range, the accuracy,
the promptitude of memory, which he displayed on
those occasions when, as was the practice in the
class, students rose to give historical accounfs to
men or doctrines, of the subjects of which he was
beforehand totally unaware."
Theodore Hook had a remarkable memory —
indeed, so much so that few, perhaps, have ever
excelled him in this respect. One day he under
took to repeat, in proper order, all the names of
the shopkeepers on one side of Oxford Street, of
which he omitted but one. On another occasion
his astounding power of memory was displayed at
a friend's house. Selecting as a topic of conver
sation the procession of the Equinoxes, he
entrapped his host, who had the reputation of
being very learned, into a discussion on the com
plex subject, but he being ignorant of the matter
tried to turn the conversation.
* " Memoir of Sir W. Hamilton," 384.

260 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
Hook, however, was not to be so easily silenced,
and promptly said —
" My dear sir, you do not seem to have ex
plained the matter. Everybody, of course, is
aware that the most obvious of all the celestial
motions is the diurnal revolution of the starry
heavens," and then he proceeded to repeat from
the " Encyclopaedia Britannica " an entire article
on the subject — a couple of columns in length —
which he had previously learned for the occasion,
although he did not understand a word of it, and
concluded by saying, " You can, doubtless, put
the thing in a much clearer light. I confess the
mutation of the axis, etc., is a little beyond me."
The joke, writes Mr. Barbara, now became
obvious. Others pursued it, and at last the dis
concerted host was compelled to throw himself on
the mercy of the foe. Among further extraor
dinary feats of memory may be mentioned Hook's
running over, after a single perusal, the whole
list of advertisements in The Times newspaper.
The memory of Walter Savage Landor, writes
Mr. Forster,* was most astonishing, and he used
to boast that he could always quote securely from
it, but he trusted sometimes too much to it and
made mistakes.
Again, Henry Crabb Robinson had a very reten-
* Life of, by J. Forster, ii., 205.

FACULTY OF MEMOR Y. 261
tive memory, which served him to good purpose.
According to Dr. Sadler,* " he was remarkable
for the extent to which he could repeat Words
worth's poems from memory, and this use of
them," he adds, " he retained to the end. At
ninety and ninety-one he quoted them with per
fect ease. This new possession, which he speaks
of as a great source of happiness to him, had
doubtless no small part in making his character
what it was." But on one occasion, at any rate,
his memory failed him. In his " Diary," under
Feb. 15, 1829, he makes this entry : — " I was
engaged to dine with Mr. Wansey, at Waltham-
stow. When I arrived there I was in the greatest
distress through having forgotten the name, and
it was not until after an hour's worry that I
recollected he was a Unitarian, which would
answer as well, for I instantly proceeded to Mr.
Cogan's. Having been shown into a room, young
Mr. Cogan came.
" ' Your commands, sir ? '
" ' Mr. Cogan, I have taken the liberty to call
on you in order to know where I am to dine to
day,' and he smiled. I went on : ' The truth is, I
have accepted an invitation to dine with a gentle
man, a recent acquaintance, whose name I have
* " Diary, Reminiscences, and Correspondence," edit, by T.
Sadler, 1872, ii., 366.

262 GREA T MEN AT PLA Y.
forgotten, but I am sure you can tell me, for he
is a Unitarian, and the Unitarians are very few
here.' " And before I had gone far in my description,
he said —
" ' This can be no other than Mr. Wansey.
And now, may I ask your name ? '
" ' No, thank you, I am much obliged to you
for enabling me to get a dinner, but that is no
reason why I should enable you to make me
table-talk for the next nine days.'
" He laughed.
" ' There is no use your attempting to conceal
your name, I know who you are, and, as a proof,
I can tell you that a namesake of yours has been
dining with us, an old fellow circuiteer of yours.
We have just finished dinner in the old Dissenting
fashion. My father and mother will be very
glad to see you.'
" Accordingly, I went and sat with the Cogans
a couple of hours."*
As is generally known, John Kemble had an
excellent memory, and Kelly, in his "Remi
niscences," thus writes : — " I have often heard
* Mr. Cogan kept a school, and was almost the only Dissent
ing schoolmaster whose competence as a Greek scholar was
recognized by Dr. Parr. It is worthy of note that Lord
Beaconsfield received his education at this school, where he
remained till he was articled to a solicitor.

FACULTY OF MEMORY. 263
him say that he would make a bet that in four
days he would repeat every line in a newspaper,
advertisements and all, verbatim, in their regular
order, without misplacing or missing a single
word." Lord Macaulay was proud of his good memory,
and had little sympathy with people who affected
to have a bad one. He was always willing to
accept a friendly challenge to a feat of memory.
Accordingly, one day, writes Sir George
Trevelyan, " in the Board-room of the British
Museum, Sir David Dundas saw him hand Lord
Aberdeen a sheet of foolscap, covered with
writing, arranged in three parallel columns down
each of the four pages. This document, of which
the ink was still wet, proved to be a full list of
the Senior Wranglers, at Cambridge, with their
dates and Colleges, for the hundred years during
which the names of the Senior Wranglers had
been recorded in the University calendar."*
On another occasion Sir David asked: — -
" Macaulay, do you know your Popes ? "
"No," was the answer; " I always get wrong
among the Innocents."
" But can you say your Archbishops of Canter
bury ? "
"Anyone," replied Macaulay ; "could say th©
* " Life and Letters of Lord Macaulay," ii., 205-6.

264 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
Archbishops of Canterbury backwards," and off
he went, repeating them, drawing breath only once
to remark on the oddity of there having been
both an Archbishop Sancroft, and an Archbishop
Bancroft, until Sir David stopped him at Cranmer.
He could recite not only the whole of the
" Paradise Lost," but Richardson's great prize
romance, " Sir Charles Grandison," a work of
prodigious size. Indeed, it has been truly re
marked that " his mind, like a dredging net at the
bottom of the sea, took up all that it encountered,
both bad and good, nor even seemed to feel the
burden." The late Prof. Conington could recite the works
of Virgil and Horace from beginning to end, and
Thompson, after the fashion of Lord Macaulay,
could tell the names, trades, and particulars of
every shop from Ludgate Hill to Piccadilly, a
feat, by-the-bye, which Fuller used to boast of
doing. Like Macaulay, Grote's memory was strong and
accurate. No matter what the subject of conver
sation might be, he always threw light upon it by
an apt quotation from either a well-known or
obscure author. On one occasion, at his house
at Barrow Green, the conversation turning on
Dante, and one of the party present, himself an
accomplished scholar, remarking that no English

FA CULTY OF MEMOR Y. 265
writer of the seventeenth century mentions
Dante, Grote immediately rejoined, " Don't you
recollect the lines of Milton ? —
" Dante shall give Fame leave to set thee higher
Than his Casella, whom he woo'd to sing.
Met in the milder shades of Purgatory."
At another time, when dining with his friend,
the Dean of St. Paul's (Milman), the subject
of modern Latinity was introduced. " One of the
best specimens of modern Latin," said Grote, " is
the Preface to Linn^us's ' System of Nature,' "
of which he immediately repeated whole para
graphs. It was not sufficient for Sir George Cornewall
Lewis to have a fine memory, unless it was well
stored with knowledge. Hence, even, in his
younger days he provided against the waste of
any fragments of time, which circumstances might
cause to be lost to him, by either learning by
heart, or repeating in the intervals. On one
occasion, writes his brother, " when I was waiting
with him in the ante-room of a physician, he took
a Horace or Virgil from his pocket, and gave it
to me that I might hear him say a portion of its
contents by heart, and he had repeated a large
number of lines before he was summoned to his
interview."* Hence, as Dean Milman has written,
* " Letters of Sir G. Cornewall Lewis," edited by Rev. Sir
G. Frankland Lewis, Preface, viii.

266 GREAT MEN AT PLAY.
he became " a man who not only might have
aspired to the highest dignity in the State, but
might also have done honour, as professor of
Greek, to the most learned University in Europe."
Charles Darwin tells us that, although his
memory was extensive, it was hazy, and in one
sense it was so poor that he was never able to
remember for more than a few days a single date,
or a line of poetry.
Carlyle, who read omnivorously far and wide,
had an excellent memory, which was, writes Mr.
Froude,* " a magazine of facts, gathered over the
whole surface of European literature and history."
The multiplied allusions, he adds, " in every page
of his later essays, so easy, so unlaboured, reveal
the wealth which he had accumulated, and the
fulness of his command over his possessions."
Equally powerful was De Quincey's memory, a
description of which 'he has himself left us : — -
" Rarely," he says, " do things perish from my
memory that are worth remembering. Rubbish
perishes instantly. Hence it happens that
passages in Latin, or English poets, which I never
could have read but once (and that thirty years
ago) often begin to blossom anew when I am
lying awake unable to sleep. I become a dis
tinguished compositor in the darkness; and with
* " History of the First Forty Years of His Life," ii., 417.

FACULTY OF MEMOR Y. 267
my aerial composing stick, I sometimes set up
half a page of verses, which would be found
tolerably correct if collated with the volume that
I never had in my hands but once." He further
adds how this " pertinacious life of memory for
things that simply touch the ear does, in fact, beset
me. Said but once, said but softly, not marked
at all, words revive before me in darkness and
solitude ; and they arrange themselves gradually
into sentences, but through an effort, sometimes
of a distressing kind, to which I am in a manner
forced to be a party."*
From childhood. Dean Mansel displayed a
remarkable memory. When too young to be
taught, he would often pick up portions of the
lessons his sisters .were learning, which enabled
him to supply the passage wanted, if, when re
peating their lessons to their mother, the girls
were sometimes at fault. It was his father's
custom to catechize the children of the parish in
the church on Sunday afternoons ; and when only
three years old Henry Mansel insisted on standing
up, and repeating the Church catechism with the
rest. On one such occasion, " How many com
mandments are there?" inquired the rector of his
infant son. " Ten," replied the child, immediately,
* " De Quincey's Life and Writings," H. A. Page, ii., 247-
248.

268 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
and to the surprise of the catechist, added
" Which be they?" Throughout life his memory
served him well, and no doubt contributed much
to his great success.
Gifted with a capital memory was Lord Plunket,
on account of which he had the strongest dis
inclination to put pen to paper, and never
transacted any business by letter that it was
possible to do by oral communication. He often
read his briefs whilst driving into Dublin from
his country residence, and without noting them,
remembered fully, and accurately, what he once
looked over. An extraordinary instance is
recorded of his power of extemporary reasoning,
and of his retentive memory in analyzing and
illustrating evidence entirely by his own unaided
mental efforts. It appears that he was engaged
in a very heavy case in Chancery ; but his Parlia
mentary duties detaining him in England longer
than he had expected, he did not arrive in Dublin
till the morning upon which the case was to be
argued. His junior employed in the case thus
writes : — " I found him just starting to walk
down to court. He asked me to accompany him,
and to explain to him the nature of the case, as
he had not had time to open his brief. I told
him as much as I could, and also suggested to
him the line of argument that had occurred to me.

FACULTY OF MEMORY. 269
All this time he had never said a word to me, and
when the case was called on, I certainly expected
that Mr. Plunket would have applied to the
Chancellor for a postponement, which would, of
course, under the circumstances, have been
allowed, but, to my astonishment, he rose and
stated the case, so fully and clearly — bringing
out many of the points that I and the other
counsel had failed to see in consultation, and so
fully meeting the difficulties suggested by the
other side, and so satisfying the doubts expressed
by his lordship, that when, after more than an
hour of this extraordinary exertion, Mr. Plunket
sat down, he had so far established his case that
all the efforts on the other side were in vain, and
the Chancellor decided for my client without
calling for any further argument on his behalf.''*
* " Life, Letters, and Speeches of Lord Plunket," by the
Hon. D. Plunket, 1867, i., 234.

CHAPTER X.
BEILLIANT TALKEES.
Edmund Burke — Lord Holland — Sir Charles Hanbury- Williams
— William Pitt — George Canning — Lord Chesterfield —
Horace Walpole — Lord Brougham — Sheridan — Samuel
Johnson — Steele— Addison — Dr. Parr — Porson — Jacob
Bryant — George Steevens — George Selwyn — Swift — Horne
Tooke — John Wilkes — Samuel Foote — Sir Walter Scott
— Lord Stowell — Lord Eldon — Lord Lyndhurst — Lord
Chancellor Hardwicke — Thomas Moore — Dr. Maginn —
Lord Byron — Curran — George Colman — Sir J. Mackintosh
— -Sydney Smith — Douglas Jerrold — Charles Lamb —
Thomas H. Buckle — Lord Raglan — Bishop Sumner —
Thackeray — Theodore Hook — Samuel Taylor Coleridge —
Hartley Coleridge — Viscount Strangford — Lord Macaulay
— Dean Milner — Charles Reade — Archbishop Whately —
Leigh Hunt — Henry Fawcett — Norman Macleod — Carlyle.
AccoKDiNG to Rochefoucauld, " the reason why
few persons are agreeable in conversation is
because each thinks more of what he intends to
say than of what others are saying, and seldom
listens but when he desires to speak." This is,
undoubtedly^ in a great measure the case, for
most of our brilliant talkers have been men who.

BRILLIANT TALKERS. 271
added to their natural charms and strong individu
ality, have infused into their talk that easy flow
of language which, unstudied and free from con
vention, is the natural gifted expression of their
opinion and experiences. On the other hand,
others rarely throw aside the cumbersome garb
of the scholar, but, with a self-consciousness that
they are speaking, study to make their remarks
as effective as possible.
In short, the best talkers amongst statesmen,
diplomatists, and men of the world have been those
whose conversational faculty has usually sprung
from their character and intellect ; the natural out-
oome of " the emotions, the animal spirits, as
well as of mental gifts." Thus, as Johnson said,
"Burke's talk is the ebullition of his mind; he
does not talk from a power of distinction, but
because his mind is full." The stream of his
mind, it is said, was perpetual, and it little
mattered what topic of conversation was started,
whether architecture, antiquities, ecclesiastical
history, the revenues, or prosecutions, for he
conversed upon them all with the readiness and
fluency of a master. Hence his brilliant talk
made him one of the chief ornaments of any
society he graced with his presence. And Wilber
force used no exaggerated language when he
beautifully observed of his talking powers, " Like

272 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
the fated object of the fairy's favours, when
ever he opened his mouth, pearls and diamonds
dropped from him." When in ladies' society, he
adapted his conversation to the occasion, and
made it equally charming. Thus a lady, with
whose husband he occasionally spent a day in
Lamb's Conduit Street, London, has described
him in the following terras : " His address frank,
yet dignified ; his conversation interesting and
various ; and particularly in female society,
playful and amusing in a high degree."
Among the many well-known anecdotes told of
his conversational powers may be quoted the
following: — On one occasion, travelling through
Lichfield with a friend, the two visitors took the
opportunity, during the change of horses, to
stroll towards the cathedral. One of the canons
observing two respectable strangers making
inquiries of the attendants, came up and offered
such explanations as were desired. But, much to
his astonishment, in a very few minutes, one of
the strangers dazzled him with the splendour,
depth, and variety of his conversation. They
had not long separated when some friends of
the canon met him hurrying along the street.
" I have had," said he, " quite an adventure. I
have been conversing for this half hour past with
a man of the most extraordinary powers of mind,
and extent of information, which it has ever been

BRILLIANT TALKERS. 273
my fortune to meet, and I am now going to the
inn to ascertain, if possible, who this stranger is."
There to his no small surprise he learnt that
his late companion, who had just set off, was the
celebrated Edmund Burke.
In private life, Henry Fox, Lord Holland, was
known as a delightful companion ; " his wit
having been playful and sparkling, his conver
sational powers considerable, and his temper
agreeable, even to sweetness." It was only
natural that, with such qualities, he should have
been much sought after in society, and especially
by his bachelor friends. But, after his marriage
with Lady Georgiana Carolina Lennox, he was
much missed by his former companions, and by
no one seemingly more than by his old Eton
schoolfellow. Sir Charles Hanbury Williams, who
thus pleasingly recalls the happy evenings he had
been accustomed to spend in the society of his
friend : —
Such are the nights that I have seen of yore ;
Such are the nights that I shall see no more ;
When Winnington and Fox with flow of soul.
With sense and wit, drove round the cheerful bowl.
Our hearts were opened, and our converse free ;
But now they both are lost — quite lost to me.
One to a mistress gives up all his life.
And one from me flies wisely to his wife.*
* Jesse's " Celebrated Etonians," i., 38 ; see Sir C. Han
bury Williams's Works, ii., 60.
VOL. II. T

274 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
As a table companion, William Pitt is said to
have been debghtful, and Wilkes, in his "North
Britain," tells us how, " by the most manly sense,
and the fine sallies of a warm and sportive imagina
tion, he can charm the whole day, and his enter
tainments please even the day after they are
given." There is an anecdote told by Lord Sid
mouth respecting Pitt's talent of improving a
man's own sentiments uttered in the course of
conversation, and returning them to him in bitter
dregs. Ou one occasion, when Lord Sidmouth
had dined at Pitt's house with Dundas and
Adam Smith, the latter said to him after dinner,
" What an extraordinary man Pitt is 1 He makes
me understand my own ideas better than before."
George Canning, with his varied accomplish
ments and genial humour, could not fail to cause
admiration in society. Those who knew him
relate that his intercourse, in private and social
life, was as attractive as his public career was
brilliant and commanding. Sir Henry Bulwer,
speaking of his oratorical powers, remarks that
" it is but here and there we find a survivor of
the old day to speak to us of the singularly
mellifluous and sonorous voice, the classical
language, now pointed into epigram, now
elevated into poetry, now burning into passion,
now rich with humour, which lashed into atten-

BRILLIANT TALKERS. 275
tion a talking and long-broken audience." Once
more, it has been observed that " if eloquence is
the child of knowledge, Canning was legitimately
an orator, for his intellect was rich in varied
and comprehensive learning. His distinct and
accurate conceptions were expressed in clear and
luminous language, illustrated rather by allusion
than imagery, and betraying less the profundity
than the appropriateness of his acquirements."
Like Lord Chesterfield, Walpole was a good
talker, and the venerable Lord Brougham often
times took no small pleasure in the display of his
clever and fertile conversation.
Sheridan's brilliant powers in company have
long ago become proverbial ; but, as already
noticed in a previous chapter, his powers of collo
quial entertainment did not make themselves
visible till he was warmed by wine. But, when
once he started, there were few who could
surpass him; for his language and witticisms
were those of a man who spoke without the
slightest effort, his words being the natural spon
taneous outcome of his inner self. Lord Byron,
alluding to the charm of his conversation, once
remarked, " I have met him (Sheridan) in all
places and parties — at Whitehall, with the Mel-
bournes, at the Marquis of Tavistock's, at Robins's
the auctioneers, at Sir Humphry Davy's, at Sam

276 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
Rogers's — in short, in most kinds of company, and
always found him very, convivial and delightful."
Referring to Johnson, it has been often observed
that his conversation is the perfection of the talk
of a man of letters. It has a style of its own, and
" is an intermediate something between literature
and conversation, in which it is impossible to
separate the share of the man of letters from
the share of the man of the world. His talk was
not to be imitated, and had a distinct individu
ality. " It spoiled men," it is said, " for every
thing that was not both weighty and smart. It
was at once both gay and potent, its playfulness re
sembling the ricochetting of sixty-eight pounders,
which bound like indiarubber balls, and yet batter
down fortresses. Such talk could only come from
a great, active, practical man. No mere scholar,
no mere metaphysician, could ever have produced
it." The charms of his conversation were, unfor
tunately, a snare to Steele. Of a pliant and easy
disposition, he was easily led into the way of
temptation, and, as often happens, his fascinating
talk, coupled with the poignancy of his wit, made
him attractive and popular in society. Hence,
as his biographer says,* " he was led into a course
of the most reckless levity and dissipation, which
* "Memoirs of Sir Richard Steele," Henry R. Mont
gomery, i., 14.

BRILLIANT TALKERS. 277
neither the strength of his resolution, nor the
force of the religious impressions with which
his mind was strongly imbued, enabled him to
resist. Addison's conversation was highly amusing, and,
it is generally acknowledged, he was the best com
pany in the world. Even Pope admitted the un
equalled charm of his talk, and Dr. Young speaks
of his " noble stream of thought and language "
when once he had overcome his diffidence. It
should be added that his sensitive modesty dis
qualified him for the rough give-and-take of
mixed society, but gave incomparable charm to
his talk with a single congenial friend, or to the
ironical acquiescence under which he took refuge
in large gatherings.* But it was one of Addi
son's own remarks that there was no such thing
as real conversation, except between two persons.
Few men, again, in their day, talked with more
uniform vivacity than Dr. Parr, and no man said
better things than Porson. Indeed, it has often
been asserted that Porson would have been as
great a statesman as he was a scholar, and many
have regretted that his brilliant powers were not
devoted to subjects which benefit mankind more
than Greek criticism.
One of Jacob Bryant's charms was his power
* " Dictionary of National Biography," i., 125.

278 GREAT MEN A T PLA Y.
of talking. His conversation, we are told,* is
described as having been " the happiest combina
tion of instructive knowledge, of lively anecdote,
and innocent fun. Enjoying a strong, though
harmless, sense of the ridiculous, it was the bent
of his quaint but quiet humour to convulse a
whole company with laughter, while he himself sat
with every muscle in his face unmoved."
George Steevens, again, the eminent Shakes
pearian Commentator, was gifted with the most
fascinating attractive powers, which, when he laid
himself out to please, rendered him a most
delightful companion. Even Miss Hawkins, not
withstanding the " abhorrence " in which she tells
us that she held his moral character, does not
hesitate to do ample justice to his powers of
language. " Such conversation," she writes,
" could not be heard without interest, and much
do I now regret that I did not then commit to
paper some of its leading features."
Then there was George Selwyn, who, although
a great favourite in English Society, was still
more popular in the select circles of Paris ; his
conversational powers having been held in the
highest esteem in the French capital. Eliot
Warburton writes how " chief among the many
distinguished individuals who honoured him with
their notice was no less a personage than the wife
* Jesse's " Celebrated Etonians," i., 323.

BRILLIANT TALKERS. 279
of Louis XV- Here, also, he won the favourable
opinion of Madam© Du Deffand, to whom he
subsequently introduced Horace Walpole."
As might be expected. Swift was a clever and
admirable talker, one of his peculiarities being to
make a long pause after he had spoken, to give any
one present, who was inclined, an opportunity of
taking his turn in the conversation. It was
his opinion that, in talking, " one of the best
rules is never to say a thing which any of th©
company can reasonably wish he had left unsaid,
nor can anything be well more contrary to the
ends for which people meet together than to part
unsatisfied with each other or themselves."
It is also interesting to note what company Swift
singled out as presenting the climax of tiresome
talk. "The worst conversation," he says, "I
ever remember to have heard in my life was that
at Wills's coffee-house, where the wits (as they
were called) used formerly to assemble ; that is
to say, five or six men who had writ plays, or at
least prologues, or had a share in a miscellany,
came thither and entertained one another with
their trifling composures, in so important an air
as if they had been the noblest efforts of human
nature, or that the fate of kingdoms depended on
them." In other words, as the Quarterly Review*
remarks, " the conversation at Wills's assumed a
* 1855, Vol. xcviii., 24-5.

280 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
local, personal, and exclusive character, whereas
good conversation, whether literary or not, is
distinguished by its sociability, and being ad
dressed to the world, does not bear the colour of
what is peculiar and private in the individual."
The talking powers of Horne Tooke were of a
high order, and according to common report,
he never " appeared to greater advantage than in
conversation. He was naturally of a social and
convivial turn. His animal spirits were strong,
the promptitude of his understanding was equal
to its vigour, and he possessed an inexhaustible
fund of anecdotes, which he introduced with
great skill, and related with neatness, grace,
rapidity, and pleasantness."
During his visit to Italy in the year 1766,
being at an entertainment at which he appears to
have been a stranger to almost every person pre
sent, the guests, on discovering him to be a
clergyman, treated him, if not rudely, at least
with coldness. But, in the course of the evening,
he so completely succeeded in establishing himself
in their good graces, that the party, highly
delighted, and fascinated, by his conversation,
insisted on seeing him horae to his lodgings,
accompanied by a band of music*
A fascinating associate in society was John
* See Earl Russell's " Memoirs of Thomas Moore," vi., 287.

BRILLIANT TALKERS. 281
Wilkes, and, on his name being one day in
cidentally mentioned. Lord Mansfield said, " Mr.
Wilkes was the pleasantest companion, the politest
gentleman, and the best scholar he knew."
Hannah More thought him "very entertaining"
in conversation, and Charles Butler tells us he
was a delightful companion. He abounded in
anecdote and smart phrases, and, even in France,
we are told, he was numbered among sayers of
good things at a time when to make a clever
epigram was to achieve fame.*
Samuel Foote seems to have been another
capital talker. On one occasion. Lord William
Bentinck invited Charles James Fox and others
to meet him at dinner in St. James's Square, but
they somewhat resented his being asked, imagin
ing that he would only prove a bore, and a check
on their conversation. In this conjecture they
were mistaken, for, as Fox remarked, " we soon
found that we were wrong. Whatever we talked
about, whether fox-hunting, the turf, or any other
subject, Foote invariably took the lead and
delighted us all."
If not actually brilliant, Sir Walter Scott was
pleasing in conversation, and according to Lock
hart, was rich in ease, sense, and humour. Wash
ington Irving relates an amusing anecdote
* See " Wilkes, Sheridan, Fox," W. F. Rae, 138.

282 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
illustrative of his jocose habit of talking: — " One
morning at breakfast, when Dominie Thomson, the
tutor, was present, Scott was going on with great
glee to relate a story of the Laird of Macnab, ' who,
poor fellow,' premised he, ' is dead and gone.'
" ' Why, Mr. Scott,' exclaimed his good lady,
' Macnab's not dead, is he ? '
" ' Faith, my dear,' replied Scott, with humorous
gravity, ' if he's not dead, they have done him
great injustice, for they've buried him.'
" The joke passed harmless and unnoticed by
Mrs. Scott, but hit the poor Dominie just as he
had raised a cup of tea to his lips, causing a
burst of laughter which sent half of the contents
about the table."
For conversation. Lord Stowell had a high repu
tation, and, when surrounded by an " audience,
few, but meet, he was one of the most agreeable
and entertaining of men." As a rule, his humour
was dry, his language was terse, and he would
say much in few words. According to Mr.
Surtees,* " to a lawyer, the greatest of all conver
sational treats was to meet Lord Eldon and
himself together in a friendly dinner party of
lawyers. Here, sure of deference and apprecia
tion, each brother would playfully unbend after
the labours of the day, talk one against the other,
* " Life of Lord Stowell," 142-3.

BRILLIANT TALKERS. 283
and narrate alternately professional anecdotes."
Lord Lyndhurst often delighted in clever and
friendly sparring at the dinner table, and Lord
Chancellor Hardwicke appears to have been
regarded as particularly pleasant company, judg
ing from the testimony of Bolingbroke and other
wits of the day, with whom he was in the habit of
associating.* As a talker, Thomas Moore made his mark in
society. Sir Archibald Alison, visiting Paris in
the year 1821, thus writes in his " Autobio
graphy " : — " I there met with Moore the poet,
the only one of the great bards of the day whose
acquaintance I had not hitherto had the good
fortune to form. I was very much struck by his
conversation. It was brilliant and sparkling in
the highest degree, abounding in those Eastern
images and poetical thoughts which appear with
such lustre in his " Lalla Rookh " and " Irish
Melodies," mingled with the quick repartee and
rapid interchange of ideas acquired in the highest
and most intellectual London society. It was
easy to see that he was thoroughly a poet ;
perhaps a little spoilt by the adulation he had
met with from the most intoxicating of all
quarters, that of elegant young women of
fashion." * See " Life of Lord Hardwicke," 1847, iii., 500.

284 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
As a conversationalist. Dr. Maginn was known
" for the liveliness of his fancy, the diversity of
his anecdote, the richness and felicity of his illus
trations, the depth and shrewdness of his truths,
the readiness of his repartee, and the utter absence
of anything like dictation to those who came to
listen and to be instructed." Indeed, few men
have excelled him in the brilliancy of his talk,
which, we are further told, was " an outpouring
of the gorgeous stores wherewith his mind was
laden, and flowed on, like the storied Pactolus, all
golden." He was highly gifted, and, possessing
a deep knowledge of the standard writers of
Greece and Rome, as well as an extensive ac
quaintance with the best authors in modern conti
nental languages, he was enabled to adorn his
conversation with the richest and most varied
illustrations. Accordingly, as has been observed,
" all he said was distinguished more for value
than for tinsel, and he thought with Burke that
the jewel of conversation is its tendency to the
useful, and carelessness of the gaudy."
Lord Byron was a remarkable talker, and
Shelley went so far as to say that " his more
serious conversation is a sort of intoxication."
On the other hand, according to common report,
his gayer kind was most shrewd, witty, and
lively. At the time, too, Byron lived there was

BRILLIANT TALKERS. 285
a vast deal of splendid talent in England, and he
has given us, as the Quarterly Review says,* his
opinion of all the great conversers of his day —
" Curran, with his poetic and imaginative wild-
ness; De Stael, with her sentimental glitter;
Luttrell's elegant epigram ; Lord Dudley's preg
nant point ; the convivial brilliancy of Sheridan
and Colman ; the fairy grace and ornament of
Moore; and the abundant knowledge, the pre
cision, and modesty of Mackintosh.
Equally great as a talker was Sydney Smith, of
whom Samuel Rogers writes : — " Whenever the
conversation is getting dull he throws in some
touch which makes it rebound and rise again as
light as ever. Among the numerous amusing
anecdotes told of him, the story goes that one
day a certain nobleman invited several first-rate
talkers to meet him at dinner, when the usual
rivalry ensued. Indeed, so much impatience was
felt to lead the conversation that no one had time
to eat except Sydney, who leisurely partook of
everything handed to him. When he had finished
his dinner he made some ludicrous remark,
laughed at it immoderately, and at once set the
table in a roar. Having gained the attention of
all those present, he never parted with his advan
tage, but triumphantly led the conversation for
* 1855, xcviii., 29.

286 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
the remainder of the evening, keeping the other
guests convulsed with the humour of the only
man present who had dined."
Among further well-known men noted for their
conversational powers may be mentioned Douglas
Jerrold, who infused into his talk much clever
humour and repartee, which rarely failed to
arouse the most unbounded merriment. Thus,
for instance, on one occasion, at a dinner of
artists, a barrister present, having his health
drunk in connection with the law, began an
embarrassed and prosy answer, remarking that
he did not see how the law could be considered as
one of the arts.
But Douglas Jerrold suddenly suggested the
word " black," and quickly, as may be imagined,
threw the whole company into convulsions.
Dean Mansel, as is well known, was the life of
every company in which he was found. " Full of
anecdote," we are told how, "his ready wit and
power of repartee, as well as of grave argument
and sustained disputation, caused him to be
much courted, whether for serious or genial
gatherings." For inexhaustibility few talkers of modern times
could compete with Thomas Buckle. It is said
he could keep pace with any number of interlo
cutors on any given number of subjects and talk

BRILLIANT TALKERS. 287
them all down, and then was quite ready to start
afresh with the first person who proposed some
new subject for discussion. Then there was Lord
Raglan, whose charming conversation and per
petual cheerfulness made him a delightful com
panion, and much sought after in the society of
his day.
Bishop Sumner was famed for his talking
powers. During his confirmation tours his habit
was to stay each night at the house of some
friend, either lay or clerical, and thence on the
succeeding morning take the confirmation in the
neighbouring church. It was only natural, as his
son remarks,* that a party of guests should be
invited to meet him at such times, but he was
always equal to the occasion, for as he adds, with
" a large store of general information, and a well-
furnished mind, he was able to hold his own with
any competitor for conversational pre-eminence."
According to one anecdote related of him in
the time of the second Lord Ashburton, he was
staying with his chaplain at the Grange. To
meet him Lady Ashburton had collected around
her, as was her custom, many literary celebrities,
and at dinner there was a conflict of wit among
those well able to take part in the contest. On
the following morning, when the guests were
* " Life of Charies Richard Sumner," 216-17.

288 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
assembling for breakfast, there was a universal
agreement of opinion that the Bishop had on the
previous evening carried off the palm.
" Only think," said Thackeray, " that we who
are wits by profession should have been outdone
by the Bishop last night."
Another good talker was Charles Lamb, and,
according to Serjeant Talfourd, " his conversa
tion was very pregnant with matter from his
extensive reading, particularly on those subjects
which were his hobbies. It would be no great
difficulty," he adds, " in this book-making age to
compile a volume out of the conversation of an
evening or two spent in his society. He was a
great humourist, even in his more serious opinions,
and displayed at times a fund of drollery."
Theodore Hook's ability in conversation, it is
said, was rarely, if ever, surpassed by the most
eminent men of his day. As is well known, he
not only excelled in wit, but was a master of
smart, pithy sayings. It has been often remarked
that memory and knack may suffice to furnish
out an amusing narrator, but the teller of good
anecdotes seldom amuses long if he cannot say
good things. Hook excelled in both. In fact,
we are told that " he could not tell any story
without making it his own."
The name of Samuel Taylor Coleridge will

BRILLIANT TALKERS. 289
always rank amongst the most distinguished of
those who have obtained a celebrity for their
powers of talking. His unfixed and extensive
mind, which grew wearied and impatient under
the trammels of composition, found scope for its
wanderings in the freedom of unrestrained dis
cussion. Those who were fortunate enough to be
admitted to the small society, in which he lived,
did not shrink from spreading far and wide the
fame of his extraordinary fluency and varied con
versation. Indeed, it became, we are told, a sort
of fashion to attend occasionally at the evening
reunions which took place at his retired dwelling,
his conversation having been described as astonish
ing by all who heard him. Charles Lamb used to
say that he talked like an angel, and even those
who came to converse with him were constrained
to remain silent, and listen to the charming flow
of his language.
Similarly, too. Hartley Coleridge was brilliant
in conversation, for, possessing a mind of extreme
refinement, his beautiful thoughts seemed to spring
up without effort, and to be so many pictorial
representations of his inner feelings.
The eighth Viscount Strangford, who was noted
for his great conversational powers and varied
knowledge, possessed a childUke simplicity of
manner which made him beloved by his friends.
VOL. II. "W

290 GREAT MEN AT PLA Y.
Of the many amusing anecdotes told of him, it is
related how, at a dinner table, a loud-voiced and
superficial man, who, while professing to know
many languages, had barely mastered the
philosophy of his own, said, after hearing Lord
Strangford's explanation on an intricate philo
logical question —
" Ah, you seem to have picked up something
about it ; but I should like to ask Max Miiller
what he thinks."
With unruffled brow, and the quietest but most
exasperating smile, Lord Strangford remarked,
"Max Miiller will send you back to me; " and,
turning to his neighbour, he added, " He actually
does not know why."*
" Singularly effective," writes Sir George
Trevelyan, t " were Macaulay's appearance and
bearing in conversation. Sitting bolt upright,
his hands resting on the arms of his chair, or
folded over the handle of his walking-stick,
knitting his great eyebrows if the subject was one
which had to be thought out as he went along, or
brightening from the forehead downwards when
a burst of humour was coming, his massive
features and honest glance suited well with the
* ''Lives of the Lords Strangford," E. Barrington de
Fonblanque, 286-7.
t " Life and Letters of Lord Macaulay," ii., 205.

BRILLIANT TALKERS. 291
manly, sagacious sentiments which he set forth in
bis pleasant sonorous voice, and in his racy and
admirably intelligible language."
One characteristic of his conversation was the
facility with which he would introduce good things,
his quotations being always ready, and never off
the mark. Thus, during the Caffre War, at the
time when v/e were getting rather the worst of
it, tells Sir George Trevelyan, he opened the
street door for a walk down Westbourne Terrace.
" The blacks are flying," said his companion,
" I wish they were in South Africa," was the
instant reply.
Again, in conversation, people had never the
need to think twice, and, with all his strength and
energy of conviction, he was always delicately
courteous towards others.
Whatever the company, and whatever the theme,
Isaac Milner was equally at home. In the course
of his reading, he had looked into innumerable
books, had dipped into most subjects, and could
talk with shrewdness, animation, and intrepidity
on them all. It mattered not to him whether the
subject discussed were a steeple-chase, or final
perseverance, in short, he could explain with the
same confidence the economy of an ant-hill, and
the policy of the Nizam. Possessed, as we have
already seen, of a ready and retentive memory.

292 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
and with an amount of broad humour which
others might well covet, he made his presence felt,
and compelled everyone else to enjoy it.
Indeed, as the Edinburgh Reviewer* has re
marked, " At Carlisle the Dean was the life of an
otherwise lifeless amalgam of country squires and
well-endowed prebendaries." At Cambridge, the
master was the soul of dinner and tea parties,
otherwise inanimate. In London he was the
centre of a circle, ever prompt to render homage
to literary and intellectual rank. He was no
ordinary person. Furthermore, his great talents
were his social talents, for he talked with the great
and the rich, as one who was their equal in wealth,
and their superior in worship. He talked, too,
" with pugilists, musicians, and graziers, at once
to learn and to interpret the mysteries of their
several crafts. He talked with physicians, to
convince them that their art was empirical. He
talked with politicians to rouse them to the danger
of Catholic emancipation." He was, also, the
intellectual chief of his party, and the members of
it resorted to him at Cambridge, there to dispel
doubts, and thence to bring back responses,
oracular, authoritative, and profound.
Brilliant, again, was the conversation of Sir
James Mackintosh, and Sydney Smith, writing of
• 1844. Vol. Ixxx., 296.

BRILLIANT TALKERS. 293
him, says : " Till subdued by age and illness, his
conversation was more brilliant and instructive
than that of any human being I ever had the good
fortune to be acquainted with. His language was
beautiful, and might have gone from the fireside
to the press, but though his ideas were always
clothed in beautiful language, the clothes were
sometimes too big for the body, and common
thoughts were dressed in better and larger apparel
than they deserved." Addicted to reasoning, he
adds, " in the company of able men, he had two
valuable habits, which are rarely met with in great
reasoners. He never broke in upon his opponent,
and always avoided strong and vehement assertions.
If his display in conversation had only been in
maintaining splendid paradoxes, he would soon
have wearied those he met with, but no man could
live long and intimately with him without finding
that he was gaining upon doubt, correcting error,
enlarging the boundaries, and strengthening the
foundations, of truth."*
According to Miss Braddon, Charles Reade was
a delightful talker. " To have him all to one's
self, as it were," she writes,t " in a long evening
of discursive talk, drifting from one subject to
another, was unalloyed delight. Would that there
* See " Life of Sir James Mackintosh," 1835, ii., 500-1.
f " Memoirs of Charles Reade."

294 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
had been a Boswell to remember and preserve all
such conversations ! Deepest thought and strong
originality marked all his ideas and opinions upon
men and books."
Few men were more delightful in society than
Archbishop Whately, and there was a peculiarity
in his brilliant sayings, writes his daughter, which
few have been able to seize. He generally put forth
an anecdote, or a witticism, as an illustration of
some important princie, or to give point to some
carefully weighed and clearly stated argument;
but the majority of his hearers forgot the argu
ment, and remembered only the anecdote or jest.
Equally attractive at all times was Leigh Hunt,
whether in company or over the fireside. His
manners were peculiarly animated, and his con
versation was varied, ranging over a great field
of subjects. He was generally ready for the more
lively topics, or for the gravest reflections, his
mode of talk equally adapting itself to the tone
of his companion's mind.
Henry Fawcett had a passion for talk, and
" was not one of those," writes Mr. Leslie
Stephen, " who became tongue-tied at home.
He would pour himself out upon all the topics in
which he was the most deeply interested over his
own table, when there were no guests, as freely
as when he had other listeners."

BRILLIANT TALKERS. 295
Singularly attractive as a talker was Norman
Macleod, and Principal Shairp speaks in the
following high terms of his conversational
brilliancy, even as a young man : "To see him,
hear him, converse with him, was enough. He
was overflowing with generous, ardent, contagious
impulse. Brimful of imagination, sympathy,
buoyancy, humour, drollery, and affectionateness,
I never knew anyone who contained in himself so
large and varied an armful of the humanities.
Himself a very child of Nature, he touched
Nature and human life at every point. What
Hazlitt says of Coleridge, was true of him, ' He
talked on for ever, and you wished to hear him
talk on for ever.' I have met, and known inti
mately, a good many men more or less remarkable
and original. Some of them were stronger on
this one side, some on that, than Norman ; but
not one of all contained in himself such a variety
of gifts and qualities, such elasticity, such bound
less fertility of pure Nature, apart from all that
he got from books of culture."
It was no easy matter for anyone to answer
Thomas Carlyle, for, as Mr. Froude says, " his
power of speech was unequalled, as far as his
own experience goes, by that of any other man."
Mrs. Carlyle, in one of her letters, says, " it is
my husband's worst fault to me that I will not or

296 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
cannot speak — often when he has talked for an
hour without answer, he will beg for some signs
of life on my part, and the only I can give is a
little kiss."*
Indeed, one of the best judges in London, when
speaking of the great talkers of the day, re
marked, " Carlyle first, and all the rest nowhere."
His talk was powerful and effective, and words
" flowed from him with a completeness of form
which no effort could improve. When he was
excited, it was like the eruption of a volcano,
thunder and lio-htnina:, hot stones and smoke
and ashes." He had, as Mr. Froude remarks, " a
natural tendency to exaggeration, and although
at such times his extraordinary metaphors and
flashes of Titanesque humour made him always
worth listening to," he was at his best when
talking of " history, or poetry, or biography, or of
some contemporary person or incident which had
either touched his sympathy or amused his
delicate sense of absurdity."
* " Life of Thomas Carlyle," i., 383.

CHAPTER XL
MONEY MATTERS.
Earl of Beaconsfield— Daniel O'Connell— William Godwin —
William Pitt— C. J. Fox — Edmund Burke— Richard
Cobden— Theodore Hook— Tom Hood— Sir Walter Scott
— Oliver Goldsmith — Steele — Sheridan — Leigh Hunt — Sir
Thomas Lawrence — Edward Miall — Lord St. Vincent —
Gainsborough — Warren Hastings — Josiah Wedgwood —
Marquis of Granby — Horace Walpole — Dr. Radcliffe.
Amidst all their greatness many of our eminent
men have been sorely tried by pecuniary embar
rassments. One reason is that public life entails
sacrifices, and only too frequently necessitates
expenses, and even extravagances, which are a
severe strain on the purses of men who have only
moderate incomes. Thus the Earl of Beacons
field, writing to Daniel O'Connell, who, by-the-
bye, died poor, in the year 1835, excused his want
of success in the election contest as follows : —
"I had nothing to appeal to but the good sense of
the people. My pecuniary resources were limited.

298 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
I am not one of those public beggars that we
see swarming with their obtrusive boxes in the
chapels of your creed ; nor am I in possession of
a princely revenue, wrung from a race of fanatical
slaves." On the other hand, if only rich men were to
enter public life, the country would be deprived of
the services of many men of high ability, whose
talents must ever be powerfully instrumental in
wielding, and moulding, the destinies of the State.
As too often remarked, it must be remembered
that men of high intellectual attainments have
invariably proved themselves unbusinesslike in
money matters, from the fact that their tastes
and habits have drawn them from this practical
side of life. But when we recollect how men of
high and rare eminence, whose names will long
be treasured up in the memory of the country,
were harassed more or less by money matters, it
must ever be a matter of regret that they were
subject to such a disadvantage.
Perhaps if they had possessed only a small
portion of the calm impertinence of William
Godwin they might have fared very differently.
As is well known, Godwin met the exigencies
which the vicissitudes of business sometimes
caused with the utmost composure, asking his
friends for aid without scruple, considering that^

MONEY MATTERS. 299
their mean s were justly the due of one who
had "toiled in thought for their inward life,
and had little time to provide for his own out
ward existence." As an illustration of Godwin's
conduct, Talfourd, in his " Final Memorials
of Charles Lamb," thus writes : — " The very
next day after I had been honoured and de
lighted by an introduction to him at Charles
Lamb's Chambers, I was made still more proud
and happy by his appearance at my own on
such an errand, which my poverty, not my will,
rendered abortive. After some pleasant chat on
indifferent matters, he carelessly observed that he
had a little bill for £150 falling due on the
morrow, which he had forgotten till that morn
ing, and desired the loan of the necessary amount
for a few weeks. T was obliged, with much con
fusion, to assure my distinguished visitor how
glad I should have been to serve him, but as I
was only just starting as a special pleader, was
obliged to write for magazines to help me on,
and had not such a sum in the world.
" ' 0 dear,' said the philosopher, ' I thought you
were a young gentleman of fortune. Don't men
tion it — don't mention it; I shall do very well
elsewhere ; ' and then, in the most gracious
manner, reverted to our former topics, sat in my
small room for half-an-hour, as if to convince m©

500 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
that my want of fortune made no difference to
his esteem."
But the majority of men, lacking the amusing
coolness of Godwin, have smarted under the
galling inconvenience of poverty rather than fill
their purse at their friends' expense. And, as
already stated, one cannot but deplore that men,
who in times past have served their country so
wisely and well, should have been just as unsuc
cessful in their private affairs.
William Pitt, for example, was wretchedly em
barrassed, and, it has been often asked. Why so ?
The answer is, to quote Mr. Morley's words, " that
their minds were too much absorbed in public in
terests to have any room left for that close attention
to private interests which must always be required
to raise a poor man into prosperity." At the
same time, considering Pitt's income, it is by no
means easy, at first sight, to understand or to
explain his enormous liabilities. Thus, from 1765,
he was more or less involved, and in the year
1797 his debts were estimated at £40,000, includ
ing the mortgages of £4,000 and £7,000 upon
his Holwood Estate. But by the year 1801
these debts had grown in extent, and upon an
accurate computation were found to be no less
than £45,064.
And yet his salaries had been high, and, since

MONE Y MA TTERS. 301
the year 1792, he had been in receipt of nearly
£10,000 a year. It must be remembered, too,
that he had no family to maintain, and no expen
sive tastes to indulge. He had never, again, like
Fox, frequented the gaming table, nor, like Wind
ham, had to pay large election bills. Anyhow,
therefore, with common care, he ought to have
confined his expenses to about two-thirds of his
official income. How was it, then, he got so
miserably involved ? The reason was, as Earl
Stanhope says,* that " intent only on the National
Exchequer, he allowed himself no time to go
through his own accounts. The consequence was
that he came to be plundered without stint, or
merely by some of his domestics."
Having asked Lord Carrington to examine his
household accounts, that nobleman ascertained that
the waste in the servants' hall was almost fabulous.
The quantity of butchers' meat charged in the
bills was nine hundredweight a week. In similar
proportion was the consumption of poultry, fish,
and tea. The charge for the servants' wages,
board-wages, liveries, and bills at Holwood, and in
London, exceeded £2,300 a year. And, although
this cruel waste of his income was gradually
sapping his purse, Pitt could never find the
requisite time to sift and search out such abuses.
* " Life of Pitt," iii., 341.

302 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
And, when at last he really felt the pinch of
poverty, the great statesman was too proud even
to utter a word of complaint to his nearest
friends. On his pecuniary difficulties becoming
generally known, it was proposed to bring for
ward in the House of Commons a motion for a
public grant to him. Mr. Pitt refused to accept
anything from the public, and added —
" Rather than do that I would struggle with
my difficulties. If, indeed, I had had the good
fortune to carry the country safely through all its
dangers, and to see it in a state of prosperity, I
should have had a pride in accepting such grant."
He heard with considerable emotion of the
King's offer of £30,000 from his Privy Purse,
and also declined the City Merchants' bank
deposit of £100,000. But ultimately a subscrip
tion of £11,700 was raised for him, by means of
which the most pressing claims were discharged.
In the following year Holwood was sold — his long
favourite retreat — and we can imagine what a
bitter pang this final wrench must have caused
him. Thus, once he said to his friend, Lord
Bathurst —
"When a boy I used to go a bird nesting in
the woods of Holwood, and it was always my
wish to call it my own."
But in spite of all this kindly help it was found

MONE Y MA TTERS. 303
that on Pitt's death, in the year 1816, his debts
exceeded his assets by £40,000. These were paid
by a vote of the House of Commons, which was
carried unanimously.
" Never in my life," cried Fox, " did I give a
vote with more satisfaction than I shall do this
night in support of the motion."
Speaking of Fox, it was no matter of surprise,
even to his most ardent admirers, that he was in
volved in pecuniary embarrassments, for, as
already pointed out in a previous chapter, he was
a gambler, and fond of horse-racing. Unluckily,
habits of this kind soon emptied his pockets, and
caused him to throw himself on the compassion
of his friends. On one occasion, when a subscrip
tion was commenced without his knowledge,
someone asked Pitt how Fox would take it.
" Take it ? " said Pitt. " Why, I suppose that
he will take it quarterly, or perhaps it may be
half-yearly ! "
In after days, with such recollections in his
mind, it may be easily imagined what pain Pitt
himself must have felt in resorting to the same,
or nearly the same, expedient.
Edmund Burke, although a financier and econo
mist of the first order, allowed his private affairs
to fall into embarrassment. Lord Rockingham
advanced him large sums of money, and at his

304 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
death directed that his bonds should be destroyed
— these having, it is commonly reported, having
been for £30,000. On the 1st May, 1768, Burke
wrote to Shackleton : — " I have made a push
with all I could collect of my own, and the aid of
my friends, to cast a little root in this country. I
have purchased a house, with an estate of about
six hundred acres of land, in Buckinghamshire,
twenty-four miles frora London."
This estate was the Gregories, situated about
a mile from that town. Now, as Burke at the
time of his marriage was a poor man, this pur
chase has given rise to much controversy. It
appears that the purchase money was about
£20,000, of which £14,000 was raised by two
mortgages. It had been suggested that Burke
intended to meet his expenses by the profits
derived from the speculations of certain
members of his family — his brother Richard and
his kinsman William having gambled desperately
in stocks. But these two were ruined by the fall
of East India Stock in the year 1769, and, curious
to say, about this time we find Burke borrowing
£1,000 from Garrick.
Henceforth he was always in the greatest
need of money, on one occasion actually joining
with William Burke in a bond for so small a
sum as £250, and at times receiving help from

MONEY MATTERS. 305
friends. He was not a man to retrieve his
losses by carefulness, and went on living at
Beaconsfield, " not extravagantly, but not fru
gally, driving four black horses, and spending
£2,500 a year, exclusive of his expenses in
London during the Session of Parliament." But
his constant need of money is proved by his
grateful acceptance, in July, 1788, of a gift
of one thousand pounds from his friend Dr.
Brocklesby. His want of money clung to him till
the end, for when, on retiring from Parliament, he
was informed that the King had granted him an
immediate pension of £1,200 a year, he asked
that, as his debts were pressing, this pension
might be antedated to the beginning of the year — ¦
a request which was, of course, granted.
Again, just as Burke's genius was humiliated
and impeded by the straits of embarrassed cir
cumstances, so too Richard Cobden was driven
to the most painful extremities by reason of his
money difficulties. It was the same tale, too,
as that of Pitt, his concentrated attention to
public matters having been succeeded by the
neglect of his own private concerns. Thus
writing to George Combe, he says : " I assure
you that, during the last five years, so much have
I been involved in the vortex of political agitation,
that I have almost forgotten my own identity, and
VOL. II. ^

306 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
completely lo st sight of the comforts and interests
of my wife and children." But so much publicity
was given to his affairs, " partly by the spleen of
political adversaries, and partly by the indiscre
tion of friends," that they soon became the
subject of general comment.
In the year 1846, as a proof of the public grati
tude for his services in the cause of Free Trade, a
sum of money was raised on his behalf, the bulk of
which was employed in meeting the heavy losses
incurred in his business, during the time when he
was absorbed, in the agitation against the Corn
Laws.* The remaining balance had dwindled to
nothing on account of unfortunate investments,
and, as years went on, his financial position ulti
mately became extremely serious. Writing to a
friend, Mr. John Slagg, in the year 1869, he says :
" My hair has been growing grey latterly with the
thoughts of what is to become of my children.
If I were to consult my duty to them, I should
withdraw from Parliament, and accept some
public employment, by which I might earn
£2,000 a year. The present Ministry have,
through my friend. Lord H — , sounded me as
to my willingness to take such an office. But I
see the difficulty of justifying my withdrawal from
Parliament at the present time. ... It is one of
the miseries of a public man's life that he must be
* John Morley's " Life of Richard Cobden," ii., 285-6.

MONE Y MA TTERS. 307
liable, under such circumstances, to have his
private troubles gibbeted before the whole world."
In this painful emergency, a little group, says
Mr. John Morley, of Cobden's most intimate
friends took counsel together, and in the end a
subscription was privately raised, which amounted
to the sum of £40,000. The most touching part
of this painful incident was his request that the
names of those who contributed to this fund —
between ninety and a hundred persons in all —
might be given to him in a sealed cover. This
was done, and after his death the executors
found the envelope in his desk, with the seal
still unbroken. There can be no doubt that this
grand, noble-hearted man, through devotion to his
country's service, sacrificed his own best interests.
Money matters proved to Theodore Hook far
from a blessing. As is well known, he was
appointed treasurer of the Mauritius in 1813, an
office which he held till the year 1818, when the
confused state of the accounts entrusted to his
charge led to his being sent home by the
Governor under a charge of defalcation. On
his voyage back, he encountered Lord Charles
Somerset, who, ignorant of his arrest, said —
" I hope you are not going home for your
health, Mr. Hook ? "
" Why," said Hook, " I am sorry to say they
think there's something wrong in the chest."

308 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
But his friends rallied round him, and his cell
in the King's Bench, where he was confined for
a considerable time, often rang with loud and
repeated bursts of laughter. Among the entries
in his diary we find the following : —
" January 1, 1824. — I begin this diary under no
very propitious circumstances, for I am in prison
for a debt said to be due to the Crown for £12,000,
incurred during my treasurership at the Mauritius.
I never had any of the money, and I h ave already
suffered the heavy process of extent, already been
a prisoner for ten months before this. However,
I shall not despair — spero meliora — and in the
hope and belief that truth and justice will ulti
mately prevail, begin the year with a general
forgiveness of all my enemies."
Liberated at length, he began to write again,
but soon his pecuniary embarrassments became
deeper, and darker, every year. He managed to
get through a vast deal of literary labour, but
the utmost he could hope to achieve by all this
was the means of parrying off one urgent creditor
this week, another the next, while he knew that
scores and scores remained behind, each waitino-
their turn to extract from him what he owed.
Thus, to quote his own words : — " The wretched
nervousness of a life of pecuniary embarrassment
more than outweighs the unfair enjoyment of
unjustifiable luxuries. Would an alderman relish

MONEY MATTERS. 309
his turtle if he were forced to eat it sitting on the
tight rope ? Answer me that question, and I will
tell you the sort of splendid misery which that
man enjoys who spends his double income, and is
indebted to his goldsmith, his tailor, and his
coachmaker, not only for his dishes, his clothes,
and his carriages, but for the privilege of
using them at liberty." But Hook, like so many
talented men, was devoid of business-like habits,
and one might almost say of common sense, as a
further entry in his diary, dated August 23, 1838,
will show : —
" To-day not into town, but forcing myself
against my inclination to write. A man who has
been hurried into signing a paper, like that I
signed last night, in the worry of other pressing
business, by which I admit a debt of £800 which
I do not owe, is not in the humour to write
fiction. F. Broderip cautioned me to sign
nothing without him, and I have signed this.
The reflection that at forty-nine years of age,
and with what everybody calls a knowledge of
the world, and human nature, I should have
permitted myself to be harassed into doing what
even at the moment I knew was not just or
right to myself, does not diminish the sinking
agitation which weighs me down, and I verily
bebeve will kill me."

3 10 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
But some men, like poor Tom Hood, seem to
have been born to trouble, and that without any
fault of their own. In addition to heavy trials,
which did their best to cloud the sunshine of
his happy married life, he had to labour under
the disadvantageous, and depressing, influence of
poverty. The failure of a firm not only involved
him in severe pecuniary difficulties, but necessi
tated his living in the most penurious manner.
He was an upright man, and his sense of honour
prevented him passing through the Bankruptcy
Court. Like Sir Walter Scott, he determined to
wipe out every penny, instead of having his debts
whitewashed over. Indeed, to quote his own
words, " he had fair reason to expect that by
redoubled diligence, economizing, and escaping
costs at law, he would soon be able to retrieve
his affairs." With these manly and noble views,
leaving every shilling behind him derived from
the sale of his effects, he voluntarily expatriated
himself, and bade his " native land good-night."
Accordingly, he fixed on Coblentz as the place of
his new residence, and, dear lover of his country
as he was — for he thought there was no land like
England — he went manfully to eat the bread of
sorrow in a strange land, determined to eat that
bread honourably, and equally determined to get
all the fun he could out of his lot, and the people

MONEY MA TTERS. 3 1 1
among whom his lot was cast.* Writing, for
instance, from Ostend, he humorously remarks: —
" I am very content with my wittles in this
here place, as the apprentices say."
Referring to Sir Walter Scott's straightforward
conduct in money matters, even despite his embar
rassments, the following extract from a letter to
his son, dated August 13, 1819, is interesting: — •
" I beg you will keep an account of money
received and paid. Buy a little book ruled for
the purpose, and keep an account of cash received
and expended. The balance ought to be cash in
purse, if the book is regularly kept. But any
very small sura you can enter as sundries, which
saves trouble."
On the other hand, how different in his pecu
niary embarrassments was Oliver Goldsmith, his
habits having been characterized by a reckless
carelessness which incurred for him censure rather
than sympathy. Indeed, he never seems to have
realized the true value of money, and, we are told
that such money as he had, might be seen lying
exposed in -drawers, to which his " occasional
manservant" would resort as a mere matter of
course for means to pay any small bill that
happened to be applied for; and when a visitor
* See Quarterly Review, cxiv., 342 ; also " Memorials of
Thomas Hood."

312 GREAT MEN AT PLA Y.
one day pointed out the danger of this, Gold
smith exclaimed —
" What, my dear friend ! Do you take Dennis
for a thief ? "
But poor Goldsmith from his early days had
displayed the same weakness, and his life was one
prolonged series of monetary difficulties, to escape
from which — only, alas ! to enter into others —
exerted the wits of his best friends. Having con
tracted, however, the habit of wasting money as
a young man, it never left him, and this was his
evil genius through life. To quote one anecdote,
it may be remembered that when twenty-seven
years of age, bent upon leaving the city of
Leyden — where he had been nearly a year with
out an effort for a degree — he called upon Doctor
Ellis, and asked his assistance in some trifling
sum. It was given, but, happening to pass a
florist's garden on his return, and seeing some
rare and high-priced flowers which his Uncle
Contarine — an enthusiast in such matters — had
often been in want of, he ran in, and utterly for
getful of his need of the money in his pocket,
bought a parcel of the roots, and sent them off to
Ireland. The following day he left Leyden with
a guinea in his pocket, one shirt to his back, and
a flute in his hand.*
* See Prior's " Life of Goldsmith ; " also " Porster's Life "
i., 581.

MONE Y MA TTERS. 313
Steele's embarrassments have long ago become
proverbial, and, as is well known, Sheridan, in
spite of his brilliant talent, was always in a chronic
want of cash. His friend Richardson went so far
as to say that his whole character was influenced
by the straitened circumstances in which he was
placed; and often used to say that "if an
enchanter could, by the touch of his wand,
endow Sheridan suddenly with fortune, he would
instantly transform him into a most honourable
moral man." It has been generally maintained
that, in his pecuniary dealings, Sheridan meant
fairly and honourably ; any failure that occurred
in his engagements having been, as a rule,
imputed to the inevitable pressure of circum
stances. There can be no doubt that he was
singularly deficient in regularity, his want of
method oftentimes exposing him to being imposed
upon by dishonest persons. Consequently, for
want of proper care in examining accounts and
keeping receipts, " the fraudulent dun was paid
two or three times over, while the just creditor
was left unpaid."
Of the mapy anecdotes told of the unpleasant
contretemps which arose from Sheridan's want of
funds, Haydon relates that when he " was Pay
master of the Navy at Somerset House, the butcher
brought a leg of mutton to the kitchen. The cook
took it, and, putting it into the kettle to boil, went

314 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
upstairs for the money, as the butcher was not to
leave the joint without it. As she stayed rather
long the butcher very coolly went to the saucepan,
removed the cover, took out the mutton and
walked away."
On another occasion Sheridan expressed his dis
satisfaction with his servant for lighting a fire in
the little room off his hall, because, he said, " it
tempted the duns to stay by making them so
comfortable." Despite Sheridan's hopeless em
barrassments, efforts were repeatedly made to help
him, and we read how certain American Govern
ment officials offered to bank £20,000 for him as
a mark of their esteem for his services in the cause
of liberty. But Sheridan declined the gift.
In the year 1804, as is well known, the Prince
of Wales gave him the Duchy of Cornwall
Receivership, adding, " I wish to God it were
better worth your acceptance." Once more, there
was a big pawnbroker in Wardour Street, who
was insured for no less a sum than £40,000, con
cerning whom Moore thus writes : " It was found
that he had been the person always supplying
Sheridan for his deposits in this way, and that he
now has a great number of articles of his, some of
which — being Corporation Cups, etc., with their
inscriptions — the family are about to redeem."
As the editor of the Examiner, Leigh Hunt got

MONEY MATTERS. 315
into trouble in the year 1813 by this journal
making an attack on the Prince Regent. He
was imprisoned for two years in Surrey gaol, and
ordered to pay a fine of one thousand pounds.
This was a great blow to his prospects ; and,
indeed, it appears that from this time he was
scarcely ever free from pecuniary difficulties. But
in the year 1842 Mr. Shelley settled an annuity
of £120 upon him ; and five years afterwards
Lord John Russell procured him a pension of
£200. With his position thus materially im
proved, and his leisure considerably augmented,
Leigh Hunt was now enabled to devote greater
attention to his literary pursuits, and he produced
some literary essays of remarkable power.
Although, says Allan Cunningham, Sir Thomas
Lawrence " was found by booksellers and engravers
to be, with all his courtesy, extremely skilful in
the ancient art of bargain-making, and rather
hard to deal with, for all his softness of speech," he
was often in pecuniary difficulties. But, somehow
or other, he continued to dissipate immense sums
of money which he received in the course of his
successful and profitable career. Although h©
would deny that he was extravagant, yet it is
actually said that, at times, he was without suffi
cient cash to procure a day's maintenance for his
establishment.

51 6 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
Throughout life Edward Miall was not over-
belped with this world's means ; and, according to
his son, had at no time a larger income than
sufficed for his very moderate requirements.
" Only after twenty years of labour," he adds,
" was he able entirely to disencumber himself of
all preliminary obligations to his friends, who had,
with a confidence which was never abused, helped
him to sustain the burden which his enterprise
entailed upon him. But his admirers did not
fail to express their appreciation of his services ;
and, in the year 1862, he received an address, a
piece of plate, and the goodly sum of £5,000.
The late John Bright was present on this occa
sion, and spoke of deriving a pleasure from this
event, which, he thought, had not been exceeded
by that afforded at any other public meeting he
had ever attended. He concluded by bearing testi
mony to Mr. Miall's character and influence, in
language, writes his son, such as " it is rarely given
to any man to receive from the lips of one so good."
Although an economist, both of money and
time. Lord St. Vincent was yet liberal with both.
According to his idea, the cause of a great deal of
the distress and poverty in the world was to be
attributed to extravagance. He maintained that
most persons " want something, or fancy they
want, either for themselves, or their children, or

MONE Y MA TTERS. 317
dependents. Everyone lives beyond his income ;
and three servants are kept when there should be
only two. If a man has a shilling a day he should
live upon tenpence, and lay by twopence." He
was always an advocate for ready-money dealings,
and was indignant and angry when he heard of a
naval officer being in debt. " They should live
upon a ration, sir," he would say ; " I have done
it myself, and would do it again sooner than
borrow money."
This was no doubt a capital maxim, and if
carried out would save many a man from trouble.
But, it must be remembered, all men are
not constituted alike, and whereas some are
scrupulously careful, others are just the reverse.
Thus Gainsborough and Warren Hastings^ — two
men whose tastes were as far parted as they could
\)Q — w-ere careless about money matters, and we
know what an innate dis like Josiah Wedgwood
had for keeping accounts. Indeed, he used to
say that he had lost thousands by not attending
to this department of his business. According to
EHzaMeteyard, one or two old pocket-books bear
evidence to this idiosyncrasy; containing a jumble
as strange in its way as the pocket-books of
Brindley. For instance, he will set off on a
journey on horseback to London, and for the first
few miles he will diligently record his expenses.

318 GREAT MEN AT PLA Y.
even to the penny he gives a girl for opening a
gate, or gathering him a bunch of wayside flowers.
Then he drops off into some meditation concern
ing mixtures, colours, or forms, and all else is
forgotten. Some men, again, like the Marquis of
Granby, have been profuse in their liberality, and
others just as stingy, Horace Walpole, it is said,
having made it a practice never to assist anyone.
But, in money-matters, most men have had their
peculiarities, and, while extravagance is at all
times to be deprecated, one cannot agree with
old Dr. Radcliffe, who, fond of money, used to
maintain that the secret of making a fortune is to
use all mankind ill. The many eminent philan
thropists of the present century who, whilst
living according to their high position in life, have
striven to make the poor and the suffering happy
by a wise and judicious disbursement of their
wealth, are after all the most noble example of
those whose money affairs have earned them last
ing fame.

CHAPTER XII.
WIT AND HUMO UE.
Sydney Smith — Wm. Pitt — Canning — E. Burke — George
Selwyn — John Wilkes — Lord Hervey — Sir C. Hanbury
Williams — Stanhope — Earl of Chesterfield — Curran —
Foote — Douglas Jerrold — Hogarth — Sir James Mackin
tosh — George Colman — Lord Ellenborough — Lord
Chelmsford — Sir T. Coleridge — Rowland Hill — Arch
bishop Whately — Tom Hood — Charles Lamb — Norman
Maoleod — Dean Mansel.
" A WITTY man is a dramatic performer," says
Sydney Smith, and " in process of time he can no
more exist without applause than he can exist
without air. If his audience be small, or if they
are inattentive, or if a new wit defrauds him of
any portion of his admiration, it is all over with
him; he sickens and is extinguished." This, in a
great measure, is undoubtedly the case, for the
wit and humourist becomes such a favoured and
spoilt child of society that any depreciation of his
talent, or any sign of declining popularity on his
part, has a tendency to turn his wit into sad-

320 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
ness, and his humour into seriousness. In many
cases, it must be remembered that men of this
stamp have been admitted to the society of persons
their superiors in rank, wealth, and position,
simply because they were amusing, having really,
as it has been said, taken the place of the
Mediaeval fools, and " kept the table in a roar "
by their mimicry and caricature. At the same
time, the coarse-minded hostess, who sent her
little daughter round the table at the second
course, to request Theodore Hook "to begin to
be funny," only vulgarly expressed what, in more
refined society, was then expected of such men,
although good manners may have precluded any
such remark.
But the sense of the ridiculous has been
specially marked in men of high eminence in
other ways, and Wilberforce, speaking of Pitt,
writes : — " He was the wittiest man I ever knew,
and (what was quite peculiar to himself) had at
all times his wit under entire control. Others
appeared struck by the unwonted association of
brilliant images, but every possible combination
of ideas seemed always present to his mind, and
he could at once produce whatever he desired. I
was one of those who met to spend an evening in
memory of Shakespeare, at the Boar's Head, East-
cheap. Many professed wits were present, but

WIT AND HUMOUR. 321
Pitt was the most amusing of the party, and the
readiest and most apt in the required allusions."
Canning, when necessary, displayed his powers
of wit and humour, and having to contend against
the most accomplished humourists of his day, he
justly inquires, " Must wit be found alone on
falsehood's side ? " And having established him
self as the champion of truth, we know what
brilliant and useful arms he brought to her
service. One of the happiest efforts of satire in
our language was " The Friend of Humanity and
the Knife-Grinder," in which Canning has ridi
culed the youthful Jacobin effusions of Southey,
in which he maintains, it was sedulously incul
cated that there was a natural and eternal war
fare between the poor and the rich.
Of the numerous laughable stories told of
Burke's wit, it appears that in the debate on
Ways and Means, in the year 1781, he ingeniously
retorted upon Lord North, who said that Ministers
were too poor to have taken any considerable
share in the well-known loan of twelve millions.
Burke said he wished Ministers would come in
rich, and go out poor, but, unfortunately, the
reverse was true. They came in thin and lean ;
but, like the weasel mentioned by -^sop, they
grew so large and sleek that they were unable to
get out again. He made the allusion in the most
VOL. II. T

322 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
ludicrous manner by stroking his own stomach,
and comparing it with the corpulence of North,
who had fattened amidst the calamities of his
administration, until at this time, as Burke ob
served, like Shakespeare's Justice, in " fair round
belly with good capon lined," his enormous and
increasing proportions were the constant topics of
mirth, even among his own supporters. No
ordinary muscle, it is said, could resist the effect
of Burke's quotation, and the significant action
with which it was accompanied. The House was
in a roar ; and even Lord North's sides were seen
shaking with suppressed laughter.
For the brilliancy of his wit no one could rival
George Selwyn in the last century, many of his
sayings having long ago become proverbial. But
one or two will bear repetition, being masterpieces
of their kind. When walking one day with Lord
Pembroke, they were besieged by a number of
young chimney-sweepers, who kept plaguing them
for money. At length Selwyn made them a low
bow, and said —
" 1 have often heard of the sovereignty of the
people ; I suppose your Highnesses are in Court
mourning." On one occasion the beautiful Lady Coventry
was exhibiting to him a splendid new dress,
covered with large silver spangles, the size of a

WIT AND HUMOUR. 323
shilling, and inquired of him whether he admired
her taste.
" Why," he replied, "you will be change for a
guinea." Wilkes's fame may be rested on his reply to
Lord Sandwich, and his fling at Thurlow ; while
Lord Hervey, Sir Charles Hanbury Williams,
and Stanhope, Earl of Chesterfield, acquired
in their day considerable reputation as men of
humour. Then there was Curran, of whom Lord Byron
writes : — " I have met him at Holland House ; he
beats everybody — his imagination is beyond
human, and his humour (it is difficult to define
what is wit) perfect. Then he has fifty faces, and
twice as many voices when he mimics. Being
asked one day what an Irish gentleman, just
arrived in England, could mean by perpetually
putting out his tongue, he replied —
" I suppose he's trying to catch the English
accent." Lord Carleton coming into Court one day, for
the purpose of adjourning it, his lordship, in
lamenting the necessity, said —
" I am aware that an important issue stands
for trial ; but, the fact is, I have met with a
domestic misfortune which has altogether deranged
my nerves ! Poor Lady Carleton " (in a low tone to

324 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
the bar) " has most unfortunately miscarried,
and " —
" Oh ! then, my lord," exclaimed Curran, " there
was no necessity for your lordship to make any
apology, since it now appears that your lordship
has no issue to try."
Being on another occasion engaged in a legal
argument, behind Curran stood his colleague, a
gentleman whose person was remarkably tall and
slender, and who had originally intended to take
orders. The judge observing that the case under
discussion involved a question of ecclesiastical
law, " Then," said Curran, " I can refer your
lordship to a high authority behind me, who was
once intended for the Church, though, in my
opinion, he was fitter for the steeple."
Among further amusing anecdotes told of
Curran, it is said that on some one observing that
no man ought to be admitted a member of the Bar
who did not possess a certain number of acres of
land, he inquired —
" Pray, how many acres make a wise-acre ? "
Once, whilst cross-examining a horse jockey's
servant, he asked his master's age.
" I never put my hand into his mouth to try,"^
answered the witness.
The laugh was against Curran until he re
torted —

WIT AND HUMOUR. 325
" You did perfectly right, friend, for your
master is said to be a great bite."
Remarkable for the brilliancy of his wit was
Sydney Smith, instances of which shine forth in
almost every page of his writings. Indeed, it
was his rare talent as a table- wit that did not
fail to excite the jealousy of many of his con
temporaries ; for it has been rightly said by Sir
Henry Holland that " if he had not been the
greatest and most brilliant of wits, he would
have been the most remarkable man of his time
for a sound and vigorous undertaking, and great
reasoning powers; and if he had not been dis
tinguished for these, he would have been the
most eminent and purest writer of English."
But his high ability exposed him to ill-natured
remarks, and even Lord Byron speaks of him as
*' That mad wag, the Rev. Sydney Smith ; " and
Southey, in The Doctor, calls him " Joke Smith."
But he could well afford to value epithets of this
kind at their proper worth, especially as his pen
never inflicted undeserved pain on any human
being. Foote acquired a high reputation for wit, and
although Dr. Johnson disliked him, he acknow
ledged his power of humour. Thus, when one of
the company at a dinner party at DiUy's called
him a Merry Andrew, a buffoon, Johnson at once

326 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
declared that he had wit ; and added : " The
first time I was in company with Foote was at
Fitzherbert's. Having no good opinion of him,
I was resolved not to be pleased — and it is very
difficult to please a man against his will. I went
on taking my dinner partly sullenly, affecting
not to mind him. But the dog was so very
comical that I was obliged to lay down my knife
and fork, throw myself back on my chair, and
fairly laugh it out. No, sir; he was irresistible."
It was said to be impossible to take Foote
unawares, and put him out. One evening, as he
was telling a story at a fine dinner party, a guest,
to try him, pulled him by the coat-tail and told
him that his handkerchief was hanging out.
" Thank you, sir," said Foote, replacing it ;
" you know the company better than I do," and
went on with his story.
Among further instances of his wit, we are told
how a lady one day said to him —
" I hear you can make a pun upon any subject ;
make one on the King."
" The King," he replied, " is no subject."
On another occasion someone told Foote that
the Rockingham Ministry were at their wit's end
and quite tired out.
" It could not have been with the length of the
journey," he promptly replied.

WIT AND HUMOUR. 327
Again, when someone had joked him on what
Dr. Johnson called his depeditation, he said —
" Why do you laugh at my weakest point ?
Did I ever say anything about your head ?"
A very plain young man, of loose habits,
happening to remark before Douglas Jerrold that
he was fastidious, the latter quickly rejoined,
"You mean that you are fast and hideous." This
is only one instance of the ready wit of this
popular writer and dramatist, who was the life
and soul of the society of his day, his company,
we are told, having been sought with wondrous
eagerness when a dinner party or social evening
was contemplated. A writer in the Quarterly
Review, some years ago, describing his talents,
said, " In the bright sallies of conversational wit
he has no surviving equal ; " and a Club associate
was equally eulogistic of his merits, who said of
him, " He sparkled whenever you touched him,
like the sea at night." At the same time, it is
recorded that Douglas Jerrold had an unaffected
dislike to being considered and spoken of as a wit.
" This wit," it is added, " was the spontaneous
result of his temperament, and of his marvellously
quick perception of the relations between seem
ingly incongruous objects out of which it is
engendered." Hogarth had a strong sense of humour, and it

328 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
may be remembered how Swift, in his " Descrip
tion of the Legion Club," after portraying many
characters with all the severity of the most
pointed satire, thus speaks of this talented
artist : — How I want thee, humorous Hogarth !
Thou, I hear, a pleasing rogue art !
Were but you and I acquainted.
Every monster should be painted ;
You should try your graving tools
On this odious groop of fools ;
Draw the beasts as I describe them ;
Form their features, while I give them ;
Draw them like ; for, I assure you.
You will need no caricatura ;
Draw them so, that he may trace
All the soul in every face.
Sydney Smith tells us that Sir James Mackin
tosh not only had humour, but also wit. " At
least," he says, "new and sudden relations of
ideas flashed across his mind in reasoning, and
produced the same effect as wit, and would have
been called wit if a sense of their utility and im
portance had not often overpowered the admira
tion of party."
George Colman was noted for his humorous
wit, of whom Lord Byron writes : — " If I had to
choose, and could not have both at a time, I would
say, ' Let me begin the evening with Sheridan
and finish it with Colman.' " One day, when
Colman and his son were walking from Soho

WIT AND HUMOUR. 329
Square to the Haymarket, he was met by two
young aspirants to celebrity, each of whom had
sent him a dramatic manuscript. Being anxious
to get the start of each other in the production
of their separate works, they both called out —
" Remember, Colman, I am first oar."
" Humph," muttered the manager, as they
passed on, " they may talk about first oars, but
they have not a skull between them."
This clever retort was not unlike one uttered by
Douglas Jerrold, who, when two conceited young
authors were boasting that they rowed in the same
boat with a celebrated oar of the day, replied —
" Aye, but not with the same skulls."
Lord Ellenborough, like many of our famous
lawyers, was noted for his wit, although, it is said,
he would occasionally use the oldest jests. Thus,
when Ran die Jackson, in a florid speech, began
by saying, " My lords, in the Book of Nature it
is written," Lord Ellenborough interposed and
said —
" Be kind enough, Mr. Jackson, to mention the
page from which you are about to quote."
When Sir Frederick Thesiger — afterwards
Lord Chelmsford — was conducting a case, he
objected to the irregularity of a learned Serjeant,
who, in examining his witnesses, repeatedly put
leading questions.

330 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
" I have a right," replied the Serjeant, " to deal
with my witnesses as I please."
" To that I offer no objection," rejoined Sir
Frederick. " You may deal as you like, but you
shan't lead."
For the versatile richness of its humour the
table-talk of Sir T. Coleridge will long retain its
eminence. Indeed, his sayings, which have long
ago become household words, were not only the
outcome of a man of high intellectual qualities,
but were supplemented by knowledge of rare
merit. However humorous, too, his remarks,
they generally conveyed an amount of wisdom
which appealed to the thinking powers of even
the most careless listener.
" Silence does not always make wisdom," he
one day remarked. " I was at dinner," he tells us,
" in company with a man who listened to me, and
said nothing for a long time, but he nodded his
head and I thought him intelligent. At length,
towards the end of the dinner, gome apple dump
lings were placed on the table, and my man had
no sooner seen them than he burst forth with —
' Them's the jockeys for me ! ' I wish Spurzheim
could have examined the fellow's head."
Again, speaking of the difficulty of fixing the
attention of men on the world within them,
Coleridge remarks that " the largest part of man-

WIT AND HUMOUR. 331
kind are nowhere greater strangers than at home,"
and further wittily says that " Some men are like
musical glasses — to produce their finest tones you
must keep them wet."
To quote an amusing anecdote, he thus writes :
— " The other day I was what you call floored by
a Jew. He passed me several times crying for
old clothes in the most nasal and extraordinary
tone you ever heard. At last I was so provoked
that I said to him —
" ' Pray why don't you say " old clothes" as
plain as I do now ? '
" The Jew stopped and looked very gravely at
me, and said in a clear, and even grave, accent —
' Sir, I can say " old clothes " as well as you can,
but if you had to say so ten times a minute for
an hour together, you would say, " och clo " as I
do now,' and so he marched off. I was so con
founded with the justice of this retort that I
followed him and gave him a shilling — the only
one I had."
Among the very many well-known sayings of
Rowland Hill, it is stated how, on some people
coming into his chapel to avoid the rain, he said —
" Many people are to be blamed for making
religion a cloak ; but I do not think those much
better who make it an umbrella."
Much of the extravagant humour peculiar to

332 GREAT MEN AT PLA Y.
Archbishop Whately — who has been styled the
Sydney Smith of the Irish capital — was, it is
said, " a stimulant deliberately applied to elicit
laughter, which he considered a wholesome exer
cise tending to renovate the nerves relaxed in the
progress of his often jaded life," his motto having
been " Cultivate not only the corn-fields of the
mind, but the pleasure-grounds also." But it
would seem that this cultivation was often a
labour rather than a luxury, for his hilarity was
not always the result of happiness. Thus, as he
once remarked, " Gay spirits are always spoken
of as a sign of happiness, though everyone knows
to the contrary. A cockchafer is never so lively
as when a pin is stuck through his tail, and a hot
floor makes Bruin dance." And so, as we are
told, it was with the Archbishop, for when he
seemed most exuberant with his humour and
quaint drollery, stab after stab was making sad
havoc in his heart. Most of his sayings, pub
lished in recent years, have become almost house
hold words — masterpieces, as they are, of clever
wit. To quote one instance, it is related that one
day a man directed the Archbishop's attention to
a valuable draught horse, as sagacious as he was
powerful. Whilst enumerating its virtues, the
horse-dealer remarked —
" There is nothing which he cannot draw ; "

WIT AND HUMOUR. 333
but, quickly inquired Dr. Whately, " Can he draw
an inference ? "
Poor Tom Hood was another striking case of a
man who, in spite of long-continued suffering,
amused himself and others by the exercise of
his extraordinary imagination. He sadly and
pathetically says of himself, " There's not a string
attuned to mirth but has its chord in melancholy."
Hence, oftentimes when others were convulsed
with laughter at the richness of his humour, his
heart was aching ; and while his merriest sayings
were cheering the sad and lonely, he himself was
undergoing a terrible degree of suffering. And
yet his wit was of the highest order, and as a
punster he stands alone, one highly noteworthy
characteristic of his effusions being that "He is a
liberal warm eulogist as well as a glowing depicter
of the good feelings of our nature, and the
generous actions which those feelings prompt ;
and he is an unsparing satirist of vice, preten
sions, and cant in all their forms."
Again, Lamb's sensibilitj' to strong contrasts
was the foundation of his humour, which, it is
said, " was that of a wit at once melancholy and
willing to be pleased." As one of his distin
guished contemporaries has remarked, "his
humour and knowledge both were those of
Molifere, of Carlier," who shook a city with

334 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
laughter, and in order to divert his melancholy
was recommended to go and hear himself. He
extracted real pleasure out of his jokes, and con
descended to be a punster. Being told that
some one had lampooned him, he said, "Very
well, I'll Lamb-pun him." " His puns," says
the same writer, " were often admirable, con
taining as deep things as the wisdom of some of
those who have greater names." Posterity must
ever acknowledge him a great humourist, for,
even in his more serious opinions, he displayed at
times a fund of drollery. In short, no one can
read his literary productions without being
struck with the vein of high intellectual wit that
underlies them.
The sense of the ludicrous was a passion which
seized Norman Macleod at the most unlikely
moments. But it was a source of relaxation to
him, for when " harassed by work almost to
despair, worried by all sorts and conditions of
men and women, then, as 'per contra, he would
indulge in some humorous grimaces and apos
trophes, give a grave touch to a ridiculous rhyme,
or draw a series of funny faces."* Odd caricatures
were, at such times, dropped into letters, even
the most serious — sometimes as a heading, more
usually by way of signature. On one occasion,
* " Life of Norman Macleod," ii., 217.

WIT AND HUMOUR. 335
when he was enduring such violent pain that the
night was spent in his study, and he had occa
sionally to bend over the back of a chair for
relief, he wrote some humorous verses on
" Captain Frazer's Nose," frora which we quote
the following : —
0, if ye'r at Dumbarton Fair,
Gang to the Castle when ye'r there.
And see a sight baith rich and rare.
The nose o' Captain Frazer.
Unless ye'r blin', or unco glee'd,
A mile awa' ye'r sure to see't ;
And neerer ban' a man gangs wi't
That owns the nose o' Frazer.
It's great in length, it's great in girth,
It's great in grief, it's great in mirth ;
Tho' grown wi' years, 'twas great at birth.
It's greater far than Frazer.

Gif French invaders try to Ian'
Upon our glorious British stran'.
Fear nocht if ships are no' at ban'.
But trust the nose o' Frazer, etc.
Painfully alive to the ridiculous was Dean
Mansel, and it is said that " his humour was
irrepressible, and the coming joke was to be seen
spreading gradually over his face." This pecu
liarity was noticed by Bishop Wilberforce, who,
observing an expression of profound thoughtful-
«ess, remarked, " It is coming— I always know

336 GREA T MEN A T PLA Y.
that look. If you will wait a minute you will be
rewarded with something delicious." Indeed,
his features, his whole manner, indicated that he
was about to say something supremely droll.
And yet, it must be remembered, there was not
in Dean Mansel any of that sarcastic bitterness
which " makes certain utterers of bons mots the
terror as much as the admiration of society. He
was always good-natured, and good-tempered.
His wit was purely intellectual, and its principal
charm was that it was so spontaneous, so keen,
so uncommon, and above all so unpremeditated."*
Among sorae of the many anecdotes told of him,
it appears that his friend Chandler, having played
something on the piano, was requested to sing,
which he declined to do. Another person pressed
hira, and said, "If you can think of nothing else,
sing us the hundredth Psalra."
"No; I should only murder it."
This produced a third entreaty, whereupon
Mansel, coming to his friend's rescue, said —
" Chandler naturally declines to murder all
people that on earth do dwell."
On another occasion, it being incidentally
mentioned that a man named " Fieldflowers "
had just come up to Oxford, Mansel replied,
" What a name ! Why, he deserves to be
* See Quarterly Review, clix., 26-29.

WIT AND HUMOUR. 337
ploughed for the first half of it, and plucked for
the second."
Once, again, he was dining in Oriel Common
Room when a joint of lamb was being hacked at
by the College " Dean," who certainly was not
an adept in carving. Before long a lot of brown
gravy, as large as a saucer, adorned the table
cloth, which provoked the ejaculation, " Filthy
mess ! "
Whereupon Mansel rejoined, " It's lamb-on-
table." Many of his witticisms were elicited by the
political events of the day, and when the Liberal
Government, although they suffered repeated
defeats, pertinaciously stuck to office, Mansel
was heard to remark that " .A.1 though the
Ministeis possessed in an eminent degree the
Christian virtue of patience, they had yet to learn
the grace of resignation^
But, after all, the instances which have been
given above, are but as a few waifs and strays in
the wide sea of the sayings of wit and humour.

THE END.

VOL. II.

INDEX TO VOL. IL

Abercorn, Marquis of, 87.
Aberdeen, Lord, 229.
Abernethy, 24, 25, 181, 252.
Addison, 20, 21, 48, 82, 83, 178, 277.
Akenside, Mark, 237.
Aldrich, Dean, 156.
Alison, Sir Archibald, 283.
Alvanley, Lord, 221, 222.
Anderson, William, 188, 189.
Ashburton, Lord, 194, 287.
Babbage, 27.
Ballantine, Serjeant, 67.
Banks, Sir Joseph, 19.
Barrington, Sir Jonah, 229.
Barry, Sir Charles, 17.
Bathurst, Lord Chancellor, 14.
Battle, Wm., 239.
Beaconsfield, Earl of, 147, 224, 297.
Bentinck, Lord William, 281.
Bentham, Jeremy, 18, 238.
Blacklock, Thomas, 206.
Blakeney, Lord, 115.
Blessington, Lady, 225.
Boscawen, Admiral 213.
Boswell, James, 179.
Bridgewater, Duke of, 33, 44, 149,
181.
Bright, John, 127, 168.
Brindley, James, 32, 317.
Brougham, Lord, 147, 193, 275.
Bruce, James, 57, 58, 237.
Brummell, Beau, 175, 176, 219,
220.
Bryant, Jacob, 277.
Buccleuch, Duke of, 107.
Buchan, Earl of, 179.
Buckingham, Duke of, 79.
Buckle, Th. H., 164, 165, 286.
Bulwer, Sir Henry, 274.
Burdett, Sir Francis, 127.
Burke, Edmund, 28, 125, 201, 222,
243, 272, 273, 303, 304, 321.
Burke, Kichard, 304.
Burke, William, 304.

Burns, Eoberfc, 104, 105, 186.
Burns, R., 13.
Butler, Charles, 281.
Byron, Lord, 16, 17, 43, 84, 87,
157, 214, 229, 250, 275, 284.
Cambaceres, Monsieur, 36.
Cambridge, Richard Owen, 123.
Camden, Lord, 96.
Campbell, Thomas, 152, 229.
Canning, George, 274, 275, 321.
Carleton, Lord, 323.
Carlisle, Earl of, 224.
Carlyle, Thomas, 14, 15, 27, 35, 73,
166, 167, 266, 294. 295.
Carrington, Lord, 301.
Cartwright, John, 238, 239.
Cavendish, Hon. Henry, 19, 47, 48,
238.
Chantrey, Sir Francis, 183.
Charretie, General, 243.
Chatham, Earl of, 223.
Chatterton, 7, 40, 133, 215.
Chelmsford, Lord, 329
Chesterfield, Lord, 37, 178, 210,
217, 218, 275, 323.
Cheyne, Dr. George, 51.
Cholmondeley, Lady, 219.
Churchill, Charles, 86.
Clarendon, Lord, 146.
Clarke, Dr. Adam, 172.
Clarke, Samuel, 250.
Cleveland, Duke of, 33.
Clive, Lord, 8, 227, 228.
Clyde, Lord, 246.
Cobbett, William, 128, 129, 130.
Cobden, Richard, 126, 127, 168,
305, 306.
Cockburn, Lord, 51, 203.
Coleman, George, 235, 328.
Coleridge, Hartley, 289.
Coleridge, S. T., 4, 5, 288, 289, 330.
Combermere, Lord, 118.
Conington, Prof., 264.
Cowper, Wm., 5, 29, 169,170, 171.

INDEX.

339

Cox, David, 113, 114, 150.
Croft, Sir Herbert, 216.
Croker, Crofton, 203.
Cruikshank, George, 141, 142, 143.
Curran, 2, 56, 239, 285, 323, 324.
Curtis, Sir William, 37.
Dacres, Sir Richard, 132.
Dalton, John, 43, 141, 157.
D'Arblay, Madame, 123.
Darlington, Lord, 18.
Darwin, Charles, 120, 168, 191,
266.
Darwin, Erasmus, 130.
Davidson, Alexander, 20S.
Davy, Sir Humphry, 157, 275.
Delany, Mrs., 76.
De Quincey, 234, 266.
Devonshire, Duke of, 149.
Dickens Charles, 162, 163, 187.
Dillon, Charles, 65.
D'Israeli, Isaac, 207.
D'Orsay, Comte, 37.
Dryden, 178.
Dudley, Lord, 38, 285.
Dundas, Sir David, 263.
Eldon, Lord, 60, 61, 99, 282.
Elgin, Lord, 198.
Ellenborough, Loid, 195, 329.
Elliot, General, 131.
Ellis, W. E., 201.
Elwes, the miser, 62, 63.
Emerson, William, 232.
Erskine, Thomas, 179.
Farquharson, J. J., 52.
Faulkner, Alderman, 60.
Fawcett, Henry, 158, 208, 242.
Ferguson, Adam, 51.
Fielding, Henry, 44, 151.
Flaxman, 203.
Fletcher, Dr. Richard, 145.
Foote, Samnel, 15, 16,87,201,229,
281.
Fordyce, George, 67, 90, 91.
Foster, John, 124.
Fox, C. J., 22, 76, 96, 224, 281,
301, 303.
Francis, Philip, 78, 222.
Frederick the Great, 174, 175.
Frith, 54, 161.
Fuller, Thomas, 64, 171.
Gainsborough 317.
Garrick, David, 125, 180, 200, 304.
Gay, 13.
George IIL, 77.
George IV., 52, 176.
Germaine, Lord George, 201, 202.
Gibson, Milner, 168.
Gibbon, E., 185, 235.

Girardin, Emile de, 163, 164.
Godwin, Wm., 298, 299, 300.
Goldsmith, Sir F. J., 150.
Goldsmith, Oliver, 46, 47, 80, 81,
90, 125, 193, 235, 236, 311, 312.
Gordon, Duke of, 79.
Gower, Lord, 23.
Grafton, Duke of, 77.
Graham, Justice, 31, 63.
Granby, Marquis of, 21, 318.
Grant, Sir William, 100.
Granville, Lord, 91, 92.
Grattan, Henry, 202, 229.
Gray, Thomas, 203, 235.
Gronow, Captain, 75, 76, 85, 176,
218, 219, 221.
Grote, George, 264.
Guthrie, Dr., 138, 139.
Hall, Rev. Robert, 156.
Hamilton, Sir Wm., 258.
Hanway, Jonas, 71.
Hardwicke, Lord Chancellor, 252,
283.
Hastings, Warren, 127.
Hatherley, Lord, 209, 239.
Havelock, General, 130, 131.
Haydon, R., 26, 84, 104, 127, 313.
Hazlitt, Wm., 24, 54, 55, 239, 295.
Henry, Matthew, 124.
Hermand, Lord, 95.
Hervey, Lord John, 71.
Hill, Rowland, 331.
Hogarth, S6, 327.
Hogg, James, 112.
Holland, Lord, 273.
Hollis, Thomas, 41.
Holman, Lieutenant, 206.
Hood, Tom, 310, 333.
Hook, Dean, 72, 73, 307.
Hook, Theodore, 41, 105, 259, 288.
Howard, John, 49, 124, 125.
Hutton, Wm., 71.
Hume, David, 94.
Hunt, Leigh, 31, 41, 294, 314, 315.
Irving, Washington, 281.
James, Robert, 89, 90.
Jenyns, Soame, 186.
Jerrold, Douglas, 73, 158, 203,286,
329.
Johnson, Samuel, 12, 39, 40, 78,
81, 83, 89, 125, 172, 178, 179,
190, 193, 194, 200, 217, 235, 247,
248, 276, 325.
Kay, Sir J. W., 158.
Kean, Edmund, 162, 201.
Keats, 103, 171, 183.
Kemble, J. P., 101, 102, 263.
Kemble, Prances Anne, 197.

340

INDEX.

Kenyon, Lord, 233.
Keppel, Admiral Lord, 198, 199,
202.
Kingsley, Charles, 116, 117, 118,
165, 166.
Lamb, Charles, 7, 65, 108, 152, 153,
154, 183, 238, 286, 289, 299, 333,
334.
Landor, Walter Savage, 213, 260.
Land, Archbishop, 145.
Lawrence, Sir Thomas, 29, 30, 315.
Leach, Sir John, 60, 61.
Leech, John, 25, 27, 29.
Lennox, Lord William, 149.
Lettsom, Dr., 92, 93.
Lever, Charles, 13, 41, 189.
Lewis, Sir Cornewall, 265.
Liddon, Canon, 251.
Liston, 59.
Livingstone, Dr., 136, 187.
Lockhart, J. Wilson, 158.
Loughborough, Lord, 194.
Lyndhurst, Lord, 30, 44, 282.
Lytton, Lord, 44, 144.
Macaulay, Lord, 68, 69, 263, 290,
291.
Mackintosh, Sir James, 244, 285,
292, 328.
Macklin, Charles, 70, 71.
Maoleod, Norman, 26, 27, 139,
294, 334.
Macready, 256.
Maginn, William, 96, 97, 284.
Malcolm, Sir John, 198.
Malone, Edmund, 209.
Mansfield, Lord, 281.
Mansel, Dean, 267, 335, 336.
Marryat, Captain, 151, 189.
Marston, Westland, 65.
Martin, Baron, 101.
Martyn, Henry, 17.
Mathews, Charles, 12, 254.
Maurice, Fr. Denison, 25.
Melbourne, Lord, 8.
Metcalf, John, 204, 205.
Metcalfe, Lord Charles, 31.
Miall, Edward, 316.
Miller, Hugh, 249.
Mills, J. S., 3.
Milman, Dean, 251,265.
Milner, Isaac, 252, 291.
Milton, 207.
Montagu, Lady Wortley, 44.
Montagu, Basil, 51.
Montagu, Edward Wortley, 176.
More, Hannah, 281.
Moore, Thomas, 36, 58, 107, 203,
283, 285.

Morgan, Lady, 53.
Moriand, George, 66, 67, 151.
Morley, Samuel, 137.
Morpeth, Lord, 149.
Musters, John, 240.
Napier, Sir Charles, 51, 203.
Nash, Beau, 70.
Nelson, Lord, 203, 247.
Newton, Bishop, 136.
Norfolk, Duke of, 202, 232.
North, Lord, 27, 203, 204, 245, 322.
Northington, Lord, 45, 97.
O'Connell, Daniel, 242, 297.
Outram, Sir James, 150.
Paley, Dr., 231.
Palmerston, Lord, 29, 81.
Parnell, Thomas, 80.
Parr, Dr., 47, 62, 154,155, 277.
Peel, Sir Robert, 172, 210.
Pembroke, Lord, 81, 82.
Petersham, Lord, 176, 226.
Piozzi, Mrs., 40, 194.
Pitt, Wm., 27, 78, 223, 274, 300,
301, 302.
Plunket, Lord, 268, 269.
Polkemmet, Lord, 42.
Pollock, Sir George, 118.
Pope, 13, 86, 200, 276.
Porson, 56, 57, 62, 87, 196, 197,
230, 248, 277.
Portland, Duke of, 23, 24.
Powlett, Lord William, 33.
Priestley, Dr., 255.
Prince Regent, 226.
Queensberry, Duke, 85.
Quin, Thomas, 63, 64, 95.
Radcliffe, Dr., 91.
Raglan, Lord, 287.
Reade, Charles, 293.
Recamier, Madame de, 22,
Reynolds, Sir Joshua, 57, 125, 182,
208. 211, 212, 236.
Richmond, Dnke of, 37.
Ritson, Joseph, 50, 51.
Robinson, Henry Crabb. 260, 261.
Rockingham, Lord, 23, 303.
Rogers, Samuel, 43, 44, 89, 275,
276, 285.
Rolleston, Prof, 141.
Romilly, Sir S., 9-11.
Rook, Sir George, 174.
Russell, Lord John, 148, 149, 203.
Sanderson, Dr., 207.
Sandwich, Lord, 23, 51,323.
Scott, Sir Gilbert, 25.
Scott, Sir Walter, 12, 17, 37, 51,
106, 107, 108, 152, 183, 198,
203, 223, 249, 257, 281, 282.

INDEX.

341

Sedgwick, Professor, 158.
Selborne, Lord, 210.
Selwyn, George, 28, 278.
Shaftesbury, Lord, 118, 119.
Shairp, Principal, 294.
Shee, Sh? Martin, 211.
Shelley, 51, 171, 284.
Sheridan, 83, 84, 85, 97, 275, 314.
Sidmouth, Lord, 98, 274.
Skeffington, Sir Lumley, 221.
Smart, Christopher, 18.
Smart, Adam, 274.
Smart, Sir Sidney, 245.
Smith, Sydney, 20, 52, 53, 87, 88,
89, 122, 285, 292, 325.
Smith, T. Assheton, 48, 240.
Smith, Dr. Pye, 134, 135.
Smollett, T., 13, 29.
Somers, Lord Chancellor, 101.
Southey, R., 7, Itj, 38, 66, 110, 111,
180.
Stanhope, Earl, 177, 301.
Steele, Richard, 85, 185, 186. 276,
313.
Stephenson, George, 93.
Sterne, 179, 180.
Steevens, George, 278.
Stormont, Lord, 232.
Stowell, Lord, 61, 98, 252, 282.
Strangford, Viscount, 289, 290.
Sumner, Bishop, 287.
Sutton, Thomas Manners, 53, 229.
Swift, 60, 62, 86, 178, 279.
Sykes, Sir Tatton, 52.
Talfourd, Serjeant, 100, 110, 288,
299.
Talleyrand, 177.
Tavistock, Marquis of, 275.
Tennyson, Alfred, 149.
ThacKeray, 27, 45, 159, 160, 197,
198, 236, 288.

Thirlwall, Bishop, 213.
Thomson, 94, 232.
Thuriow, Lord, 58, 97, 98, 323.
Tooke, Home, 42, 59, 139, 140,
181, 280.
Turner, 54.
Villiers, Charles, 168.
Vincent, Lord St., 38, 114, 316.
Wakefield, Gilbert, 51.
Walpole, Horace, 21, 77, 204, 236,
275, 279, 318.
Walpole, Sir Robert, 80.
Warburton, Eliot, 28, 278.
Warburton, Bishop, 17, 136, 250.
Warton, Joseph, 236.
Warwick, Countess of, 48, 83.
Watt, James, 17, 182, 257.
Wedgwood, Josiah, 145, 189, 317.
Wellesley, Marquis of, 115.
Wellington, Duke of, 14, 36, 118,
172, 203, 211, 224, 246.
Westbury, Lord, 29, 168.
Wesley, John, 51, 62, 132, 133.
Weymouth, Lord, 77.
Whately, Archbishop, 294.
Whewell, Dr., 158.
White, Henry Kirke, 211.
Wilberforce, Wm., 192, 193, 271.
Wilberforce, Bishop, 335.
Wilkes, John, 274, 281.
Williams, Sir Charles Hanbury , 273,
323.
Wilson, Professor, 158.
Wilson, Thomas, 208.
Wolcot, John, 94.
WoUaston, Dr., 19.
Wordsworth, William, 38, 135, 171.
Yarmouth, Lord, 226.

i'i-SMisEsfe