Part 5

“Indeed, Sir!” is the general exclamation of a passenger in a stage coach, whenever any one observes that he had seen Garrick perform; at least, such an observation has fallen from many of my fellow-travellers, when I have asserted that I had had the pleasure of seeing that great actor. On the 25th of November, 1775, my father first took me to a play, and it was with one of Mr. Garrick’s orders, when he performed in _The Alchemist_.[122]

1776.--Marylebone Gardens opened this year on the 11th of May, by authority. The “Forge of Vulcan” was represented.[123] On the 16th of the same month the Fantoccini was introduced; on June 3rd Breslaw exhibited his sleight of hand, and also his company of singers, upon which occasion handbills were publicly distributed. Admittance 2s.[124] On the 25th Mrs. Stuart had a ball, and Signor Rebecca (well known for his productions at the Pantheon) painted some of the transparencies.[125]

Subscription tickets to the Gardens were issued at £1, 11s. 6d. to admit two persons every evening of performance. The Gardens were opened on Sunday evenings, with tea, coffee, and Ranelagh rolls. Caillot was the fire-worker this season.

This, as well as the preceding year, was particularly famous for the breed of Canary birds, consisting of Junks, Mealies, Turncrowns, and the Swallow-throats. They were all “fine in feather and full in song,” and could sing in the highest perfection many delightful strains, such as the nightingale’s, titlark’s, and woodlark’s, by candle-light as well as day. The breeders lived in Norwich, Colchester, Ipswich, etc. The sellers in London were principally publicans, and those most in vogue kept the signs of the “Queen’s Arms,” Newgate Street; the “Green Dragon,” Narrow Wall, Lambeth; the “Crown and Horse-shoe,” Holborn; the “Wheatsheaf,” Fleet Market; the “Marquis of Granby,” Fleet Market; the “Old George,” Little Drury Lane; and the “Black Swan,” Brown’s Lane, Spitalfields.[126]

It appears by the various advertisements from the numerous owners of cockpits, that the cruel sport of cock-fighting afforded high amusement this year to the unfeeling part of London’s inhabitants. Of the number of cockpits half a dozen will be quite enough to be recorded on this page.

1. The “Royal Cockpit,” in the Birdcage Walk, St. James’s Park. This Royal Cockpit afforded Hogarth characters for one of his worst of subjects, though best of plates.

2. In Bainbridge Street, St. Giles’s.

3. Near Gray’s Inn Lane.

4. In Pickled-Egg Walk.

5. At the New Vauxhall Gardens, in St. George’s in the East.

6. That at the “White Horse,” Old Gravel Lane, near Hughes’s late riding-school, at the foot of Blackfriars Bridge.[127]

Disputes having frequently occurred as to the characters in which Garrick last appeared, by persons not sufficiently in possession of documents at hand to enable them to decide their controversies, I am induced to conclude that such disputants will be pleased to see a statement of the nights of his acting, the titles of the plays in which he performed, and the names of the characters which he represented, as well as those of the principal actresses who performed with him during the last year of his appearance on the stage. The original play-bills of the time, collected by the late Dr. Burney, now in the British Museum, have enabled me to give this information in the following chronological order:--

Nights of Title of Play. Names of Acting. Characters.

Jan. 18. The Alchemist. Abel Drugger, Mr. Garrick. (Doll Common, by Mrs. Hopkins.)

20. The Discovery Sir Anthony Branville. (Lady Flutter, by Mrs. Abington.)

22. Ditto. Ditto.

24. Ditto. Ditto.

26. Ditto. Ditto.

29. Ditto. Ditto.

30. The Provoked Wife Sir John Brute. (Lady Brute, by Miss Younge.)

31. Ditto. Ditto.

Feb. 3. Zara Lusignan. (Zara, by Miss Younge.)

5. The Provoked Wife Sir John Brute. (Lady Brute, by Miss Younge.)

7. The Discovery Sir Anthony Branville. (Lady Flutter, by Mrs. Abington.)

9. Every Man in his Kitely. (Mrs. Kitely, Mrs. Humour. Greville.)

12. Much Ado about Benedict. (Beatrice, by Mrs. Nothing. Abington.)

14. Rule a Wife and Leon. (Estifania, by Mrs. have a Wife. Abington.)

March 6. Zara Lusignan. (Zara, by Miss Younge.)

7. Zara Lusignan. (Zara, by Miss Younge.)

April 11. The Alchemist. Abel Drugger. (Doll Common, by Mrs. Hopkins.)

16. Much Ado about Benedict. (Beatrice, by Mrs. Nothing. Abington.)

25. Every Man in his Kitely. (Mrs. Kitely, by Mrs. Humour. Greville.)

27. Hamlet Hamlet. (Ophelia, by Mrs. Smith.)

30. The Provoked Sir John Brute. (Lady Wife. Brute, Miss Younge.)

May 2. Rule a Wife and Leon. (Estifania, Mrs. Abington) have a Wife.

7. The Stratagem. Archer. (Mrs. Sullen, Mrs. Abington.)

9. Much Ado about Benedict. (Beatrice, by Mrs. Nothing. Abington.)

13. King Lear King Lear. (Cordelia, Miss Younge.)

16. The Wonder Don Felix. (Violante, by Mrs. Yates.)

21. King Lear King Lear. (Cordelia, by Miss Younge.)

23. The Suspicious Ranger. (Mrs. Strickland, Husband. Mrs. Siddons; Clarinda, Mrs. Abington.)

27. King Richard the King Richard. (Lady Anne Third. (first time), Mrs. Siddons.)

30. Hamlet Hamlet. (Ophelia, by Mrs. Smith.)

31. The Suspicious Ranger. (Mrs. Strickland, Husband. Mrs. Siddons; Clarinda, Mrs. Abington.)

June 1. Ditto. Ditto.

3. King Richard the King Richard. (Lady Anne, Third. by Mrs. Siddons.)

5. King Richard the King Richard. (Lady Anne, Third. by Mrs. Siddons.) By command of their Majesties.

8. King Lear King Lear. (Cordelia, Mrs. Younge.)

10. The Wonder Don Felix. (Violante, by Mrs. Yates.)[128]

Notwithstanding it has been said that Mr. Garrick spoke slightingly of Mrs. Siddons’s talents, the above list incontrovertibly proves that he considered her powers sufficiently great to appear in principal characters with him no fewer than _six_ nights of the last _nine_ in which he performed.

I shall now subjoin a similar list of Mrs. Siddons’s nights of performance at Drury Lane Theatre, during the last year of Mr. Garrick’s acting.[129]

Jan. 13, 15, 17. Epicœne, or The Silent Woman (as a Collegiate Lady).

Feb. 1, 2, 3. The Blackamoor Washed White.

Between Feb. 15 and April 18 (22 nights). The Runaway (as Miss Morley).

May 23. The Suspicious Husband (as Mrs. Strickland).

24. The Runaway (as Miss Morley).

27. King Richard the Third (as Lady Anne).

31. The Suspicious Husband (as Mrs. Strickland).

June 1.

3. King Richard the Third (as Lady Anne).

5. Ditto. Ditto.

By command of their Majesties.

Of six plays of which there were no bills in the Burney collection, I was enabled to add instances of the performance of Mrs. Siddons on those nights from a portion of that truly rare and valuable library purchased by Government of the late Dr. Burney’s son for the British Museum.

Ladies this year wore goloshes, four distinct falls of lace from the hat to the shoulders, and rolled curls on either side of the neck: they continued to carry fans.[130]

1777.

I remember well that in an autumn evening of this year, during the time my father lived in Norton Street,[131] going with him and his pupils on a sketching party to what is now called Pancras Old Church; and that Whitefield’s Chapel in Tottenham Court Road, Montague House, Bedford House, and Baltimore House,[132] were then uninterruptedly seen from the churchyard, which was at that time so rural that it was only enclosed by a low and very old hand-railing, in some parts entirely covered with docks and nettles. I recollect also that the houses on the north side of Ormond Street commanded views of Islington, Highgate, and Hampstead, including in the middle distance Copenhagen-house, Mother Red-cap’s, the Adam and Eve, the Farthing Pie House, the Queen’s Head and Artichoke, and the Jew’s Harp House.[133]

Early in this year Spiridione Roma,[134] who had cleaned the pictures of the Judges then hanging in Guildhall, published a prospectus for Bartolozzi’s print from the portrait of Mary Queen of Scots in Drapers’ Hall, said to have been painted by Zucchero.[135]

1778.

At this period I began to think there was something in a prognostication announced to my dear mother by an old _star-gazer_ and _tea-grouter_,[136] that, through life, I should be favoured by persons of high rank; for, in this year, Charles Townley, Esq. (the collector of the valuable marbles which now bear his name in the British Museum), first noticed me when drawing in Mr. Nollekens’ studio, and pouched me half a guinea to purchase paper and chalk.[137] This kindness was followed up by Dr. Samuel Johnson, who was then sitting for his bust. The Doctor, after looking at my drawing, then at the bust I was copying, put his hand heavily upon my head, pronouncing “Very well, very well.” Here I frequently saw him, and recollect his figure and dress with tolerable correctness. He was tall, and must have been, when young, a powerful man: he stooped, with his head inclined to the right shoulder: heavy brows, sleepy eyes, nose very narrow between the eye-brows, but broad at the bottom; lips enormously thick; chin, wide and double. He wore a stock and wristbands; his wig was what is called a “_Busby_,” but often wanted powder. His hat, a three-cornered one; coats, one a dark mulberry, the other brown, inclining to the colour of Scotch snuff, large brass or gilt buttons; black waistcoat and small-clothes--sometimes the latter were corduroy; black stockings, large easy shoes, with buckles; his gait was wide and awkwardly sprawling; latterly he used a _hooked_ walking-stick, in consequence of his having saved the life of a young man as he was crossing from Queenhithe to Bankside.

One of the Doctor’s sticks of this shape brought me into a scrape. It was given to me by the late William Tunnard, Esq., of Bankside;[138] he received it from his friend Mr. Perkins;[139] it was one of many that the Doctor kept at Thrale’s. This stick I promised to my worthy and liberal friend the Rev. James Beresford, of Kibworth, Market Harborough;[140] but, alas! when I went to “stick-corner” somebody had walked it off. However, if this page should meet the eye of its present possessor, I hope, even should the “Bannister” I now rest upon be deemed useless by Time’s sandy-glass, his conscience may order the Johnsonian relic to be delivered to the above-named gentleman, whose property I declare it unquestionably to be. My present strong stick, named “_Bannister_,” was given to me when afflicted with the gout, by a fellow-sufferer, universally known under the friendly appellation of “_Honest Jack_.”

I once saw him follow a sturdy thief, who had stolen his handkerchief in Grosvenor Square, seize him by the collar with both hands, and shake him violently, after which he quickly let him loose; and then, with his open hand, gave him so powerful a smack on the face, that sent him off the pavement staggering.

Ladies appeared for the first time in riding-habits of men’s cloth, only descending to the feet; they also walked with whips like short canes, with a thong at the end. The elderly ladies continued to wear goloshes. Fans were in general use.

For the honour of female genius, be it here recorded, that, in the _Ladies’ Pocket-book_, published this year, an engraved group of nine whole-length female figures was published, viz. Miss Carter, Mrs. Barbauld, Angelica Kauffman, Mrs. Sheridan, Mrs. Lenox, Mrs. Montague, Miss More, Mrs. Macaulay, and Mrs. Griffith, each lady in the character of a Muse. Four Pocket-books appeared this year, entitled _Ladies’ Pocket-book_, _Ladies’ own Memorandum Book_, _Ladies’ Annual Journal_, and _Ladies’ Complete Pocket-book_.[141]

1779.

On Monday, February 1st, Taylor, the facetious pupil of Frank Hayman, and the old friend of Jonathan Tyers, lifted Nollekens’ studio door-latch, put in his head, and announced, “For the information of some of the sons of Phidias, I beg to observe, that David Garrick is now on his way to pay his respects to Poet’s Corner. I left him just as he was quitting the boards of the Adelphi.”[142] I am now employing the exact words he made use of, though certainly the levity was misapplied on so solemn an occasion.

I begged of my father, who then carved for Mr. Nollekens, to allow me to go to Charing Cross to see the funeral pass, which he did with some reluctance. I was there in a few minutes, followed him to the Abbey, heard the service, and saw him buried.[143]

Mr. Garrick died on the 20th of January, in the back room of the first floor, in his house in the Adelphi. The ceiling of the drawing-room was painted by Zucchi: the subject, Venus attired by the Graces. The chimneypiece in this room is said to have cost £800.[144]

On a night when Mr. Garrick was acting the part of Lear, one of the soldiers who stood on the stage blubbered like a child. Mr. Garrick, who was as fond of a compliment as most men, when the play was over, sent for the man to his room, and gave him half a crown. It was the custom formerly for two soldiers to stand on the stage during the time of performance, one at either end of the proscenium.

This year the Grotto Garden, Rosamond Row, near the London Spa, was kept by Jackson, a man famous for grottoes and fireworks. He had made great additions to it, viz. a new Mounted Fountain, etc. The admittance was sixpence.[145]

1781.

Although I could model and carve a little, I longed to be an engraver, and wished much to be placed under Bartolozzi, who then lived in Bentinck Street, Berwick Street.[146] My father took me to him, with a letter of introduction from Mr. Wilton, the sculptor. Mr. Bartolozzi, after looking at my imitations of several of Rembrandt and Ostade’s etchings, declared that he should have been glad some years previous to take such a youth, but that, in consequence of ill-treatment from some of his pupils, he had made up his mind to take no more. The Bishop of Peterborough (Dr. Hinchliffe),[147] one of my father’s patrons, then prevailed on Sherwin to let me in at half-price; and under his roof I remained for nearly three years. Here I saw all the beautiful women of the day; and, being considered a lively lad, I was noticed by several of them. Here I received a kiss from the beautiful Mrs. Robinson.

This impression was made upon me nearly as I can recollect in the following way:--It fell to my turn that morning, as a pupil, to attend the visitors, and Mrs. Robinson came into the room singing. She asked to see a drawing which Mr. Sherwin had made of her, which he had placed in an upper room. When I assured her that Mr. Sherwin was not at home, “Do try to find the drawing of me, and I will reward you, my little fellow,” said she. I, who had seen Rosetta, in _Love in a Village_, the preceding evening, hummed to myself, as I went upstairs, “With a kiss, a kiss, and I’ll reward you with a kiss.”

I had no sooner entered the room with the drawing in my hand, than she imprinted a kiss on my cheek, and said, “There, you little rogue.” I remember that Mrs. Darby, her mother, accompanied her, and had brought a miniature, painted by Cosway, set in diamonds, presented by a high personage, of whom Mrs. Robinson spoke with the highest respect to the hour of her dissolution.[148] The colour of her carriage was a light blue, and upon the centre of each panel a basket of flowers was so artfully painted, that as she drove along it was mistaken for a coronet.[149]

1782.

Early in the month of December, this year, Sherwin painted, engraved, and published a glorious portrait of Mrs. Siddons, in the character of the Grecian Daughter. That lady sat in the front room of his house, St. James’s Street. I obeyed Mr. Sherwin’s orders in raising and lowering the centre window-curtains, the shutters of the extreme ones being closed for the adjustment of that fine light and shade upon her face which he has so beautifully displayed in the print. This print, in consequence of a purse having been presented to Mrs. Siddons by her admirers in the profession of the Law, was dedicated to “The Gentlemen of the Bar.”[150]

By the liberality of my amiable friend, William Henderson, Esq.,[151] I am in possession of a cast taken by Lochee, the modeller, from the face of this wonderful actress, which I intend leaving to that invaluable gallery of theatrical portraits, so extensively formed by that favourite offspring of Nature, Charles Mathews,[152] Esq., at Kentish Town; but should that collection ever be dispersed, which I most heartily trust it never will be, then I desire that it may go to the Green-room of Drury Lane Theatre. To this bequest I subscribe my name,

Witnesses to this my declaration,

John Thomas Smith. John Bannister. -- Harley.[153]

1783.

One of the numerous subjects which I drew this year for Mr. Crowle,[154] was the old brick gateway entrance to St. Giles’s churchyard, then standing opposite to Mr. Remnent’s timber-yard, in which drawing I introduced the figure of old Simon, a very remarkable beggar, who, together with his dog, generally took their station against one of the gate-piers. This man, who wore several hats, at the same time suffered his beard to grow, which was of a dirty yellow-white. Upon his fingers were numerous brass rings. He had several waistcoats, and as many coats, increasing in size, so that he was enabled by the extent of the uppermost garment to cover the greater part of the bundles, containing rags of various colours; and distinct parcels with which he was girded about, consisting of books, canisters containing bread, cheese, and other articles of food; matches, a tinder-box, and meat for his dog; cuttings of curious events from old newspapers; scraps from Fox’s _Book of Martyrs_, and three or four dog’s-eared and greasy thumbed numbers of the _Gentleman’s Magazine_.

From these and such like productions he gained a great part of the information with which he sometimes entertained those persons who stopped to look at him.

When I knew him,--for he was one of my pensioners,--he and his dog lodged under a staircase in an old shattered building called “Rats’ Castle,” in Dyot Street, mentioned in _Nollekens and his Times_ as that artist’s rendezvous to discover models for his Venuses. Dyot Street has disappeared, and George Street is built on its site.[155] His walks extended to the entrances only of the adjacent streets, whither he either went to make a purchase at the baker’s or the cook’s shops. Rowlandson drew and etched him several times; in one instance Simon had a female placed before him, which the artist called “Simon and Iphigenia.” There is a large whole-length print of him, published by John Seago, with the following inscription:--

SIMON EDY, born at Woodford, near Thrapston, Northamptonshire, in 1709: died May 18, 1783.[156]

Respecting his last dog, for he had possessed several, which wicked boys had beguiled from him, or the skinners of those animals had snatched up, the following anecdote is interesting:--A Smithfield drover, whose dog’s left eye had been much injured by a bullock, solicited Simon to take him under his care till he got well. The mendicant cheerfully consented, and forthwith, with a piece of string, confined him to his arm; and when, by being more quiet, he had regained his health sufficiently to resume his services to his master, old Simon, with the most affectionate reluctance, gave him up, and was obliged to content himself with the pleasure of patting his sides on a market-day, when he followed his master’s drove to the slaughter-house in Union Street. These tender and stolen caresses from the hand which had bathed his wound, Rover would regularly stop to receive at St. Giles’s porch, and then hastily run to get up with the bullocks. Poor Simon, after missing the dog as well as his master for some weeks, was one morning most agreeably surprised to see the faithful animal crouch behind his feet, and with an uplifted and sorrowful eye, for he had entirely lost the blemished one, implore his protection by licking his beard, as a successor to his departed and lamented keeper. Rover followed Simon, according to Dr. Gardner’s idea, to “his last and best bedroom”;[157] or, according to Funeral Weever,[158] his “bed of ease.” Shortly before Simon’s death, I related to Mrs. Nollekens several instances of Rover’s attachment. “I think, Sir,” observed that lady, “you once told me that he had been a shepherd’s dog from Harrow-on-the-Hill. I don’t like a shepherd’s dog: it has no tail,[159] and its coat is as rough as the bristles of a cocoanut. No, Sir, my little French dog is my pet.” However, fortunately for poor Simon, the Hon. Daines Barrington[160] was present when Dr. Johnson’s Pekuah[161] made this silly remark, for he never after passed the kind-hearted mendicant without giving him sixpence. There was an elegy printed for poor Simon, with a woodcut portrait of him.

Ugly and deficient in sight and tail as Rover certainly was, it is also as equally unquestionable that Simon never had occasion to carry him to Fox Court, St. James’s Street, for the recovery of his health, under the direction of Dr. Norman,[162] the canine physician, so strenuously recommended upon all occasions by George Keate, the poet,[163] and far-famed connoisseur. No, poor Rover was kept in health by being allowed to range the streets from six till nine, the hours in which the nightly stealers of the canine race, and the dexterous of all dentists, were on their way to Austin’s, at Islington,[164] to dispose of their cruel depredations upon many a true friend to the indigent blind, “to whom the blackbird sings as sweetly as to the fairest lady in the land.”

1784.