Reminiscences of Captain Gronow Part 10

Plausible in his address, and possessing many of those superficial qualities that please the mult.i.tude, he appeared to be able to secure for the claret--which was the production of the estate--a large clientele. Palmer's claret, under his auspices, began to be talked of in the clubs; and the bon vivant was anxious to secure a quant.i.ty of this highly-prized wine. The patronage of the Prince Regent was considered essential, who, with his egotistical good nature, and from a kindly feeling for Palmer, gave a dinner at Carlton House, when a fair trial was to be given to his claret. A select circle of gastronomes was to be present, amongst whom was Lord Yarmouth, well known in those days by the appellation of "Red-herrings," from his rubicund whiskers, hair, and face, and from the town of Yarmouth deriving its princ.i.p.al support from the importation from Holland of that fish; Sir Benjamin Bloomfield, Sir William Knighton, and Sir Thomas Tyrwhitt, were also of the party. The wine was produced, and was found excellent, and the spirits of the party ran high; the light wine animating them without intoxication. The Prince was delighted, and, as usual upon such occasions, told some of his best stories, quoted Shakspeare, and was particularly happy upon the bouquet of the wine as suited "to the holy Palmer's kiss."

Lord Yarmouth alone sat in moody silence, and, on being questioned as to the cause, replied that whenever he dined at his Royal Highness's table, he drank a claret which he much preferred--that which was furnished by Carbonell. The Prince immediately ordered a bottle of this wine; and to give them an opportunity of testing the difference, he desired that some anchovy sandwiches should be served up. Carbonell's wine was placed upon the table: it was a claret made expressly for the London market, well-dashed with Hermitage, and infinitely more to the taste of the Englishman than the delicately-flavoured wine they had been drinking. The banquet terminated in the Prince declaring his own wine superior to that of Palmer's, and suggesting that he should try some experiments on his estate to obtain a better wine. Palmer come from Carlton House much mortified. On Sir Thomas Tyrwhitt attempting to console him, and saying that it was the anchovies that had spoiled the taste of the connoisseurs, the general said loudly enough to be heard by Lord Yarmouth, "No; it was the confounded red herrings." A duel was very nearly the consequence.

General Palmer, feeling it his duty to follow the advice of the Prince, rooted out his old vines, planted new ones, tried all sorts of experiments at an immense cost, but with little or no result. He and his agent, in consequence, got themselves into all sorts of difficulties, mortgaged the property, borrowed largely, and were at last obliged to have recourse to usurers, to life a.s.surances, and every sort of expedient to raise money. The theatre at Bath was sold, the Reform in Parliament robbed him of his seat, and at last he and his agent became ruined men. A subscription would have been raised to relieve him, but he preferred ending his days in poverty to living upon the bounty of his friends. He sold his commission, and was plunged in the deepest distress; while the acc.u.mulation of debt to the usurers became so heavy, that he was compelled to pa.s.s through the Insolvent Court. Thus ended the career of a man who had been courted in society, idolized in the army, and figured as a legislator for many years. His friends, of course, fell off, and he was to be seen a mendicant in the streets of London--shunned where he once was adored. Gray, his agent, became equally involved; but, marrying a widow with some money, he was enabled to make a better fight. Eventually, however, he became a prey to the money-lender, and his life ended under circ.u.mstances distressing to those who had known him in early days.

"MONK" LEWIS

One of the most agreeable men of the day was "Monk" Lewis. As the author of the Monk and the Tales of Wonder, he not only found his way into the best circles, but had gained a high reputation in the literary world. His poetic talent was undoubted, and he was intimately connected with Walter Scott in his ballad researches. His Alonzo the Brave and the Fair Imogene was recited at the theatres, and wherever he went he found a welcome reception. His West Indian fortune and connections, and his seat in Parliament, gave him access to all the aristocratic circles; from which, however, he was banished upon the appearance of the fourth and last dialogue of the Pursuits of Literature. Had a thunderbolt fallen upon him, he could not have been more astonished than he was by the onslaught of Mr. Matthias, which led to his ostracism from fas.h.i.+onable society.

It is not for me to appreciate the value of this satirical poem, which created such an extraordinary sensation, not only in the fas.h.i.+onable, but in the political world; I, however, remember that whilst at Canning's, at the Bishop of London's, and at Gifford's, it was p.r.o.nounced the most cla.s.sical and spirited production that had ever issued from the press, it was held up at Lord Holland's, at the Marquis of Lansdowne's, and at Brookes's, as one of the most spiteful and ill-natured satires that had ever disgraced the literary world; and one which no talent or cla.s.sic lore could ever redeem. Certain it is, that Matthias fell foul of poor "Monk" Lewis for his romance: obscenity and blasphemy were the charges laid at his door; he was acknowledged to be a man of genius and fancy, but this added only to his crime, to which was superadded that of being a very young man. The charges brought against him cooled his friends and heated his enemies; the young ladies were forbidden to speak to him, matrons even feared him, and from being one of the idols of the world, he became one of the objects of its disdain. Even his father was led to believe that his son had abandoned the paths of virtue, and was on the high road to ruin.

"Monk" Lewis, unable to stand against the outcry thus raised against him, determined to try the effects of absence, and took his departure for the island in which his property was; but unfortunately for those who dissented from the ferocious judgment that was pa.s.sed upon him, and for those who had discrimination enough to know that after all there was nothing very objectionable in his romance, and felt a.s.sured that posterity would do him justice, this amiable and kind-hearted man died on his pa.s.sage out; leaving a blank in one variety of literature which has never been filled up.

The denunciation was not followed by any other severe criticism; but editors have, in compliance with the insinuations of Matthias, omitted the pa.s.sages which he pointed out as objectionable, so that the original text is seldom met with.

"Monk" Lewis had a black servant, affectionately attached to his master; but so ridiculously did this servant repeat his master's expressions, that he became the laughing-stock of all his master's friends: Brummell used often to raise a hearty laugh at Carlton House by repeating witticisms which he pretended to have heard from Lewis's servant. Some of these were very stale; yet they were considered so good as to be repeated at the clubs, greatly adding to the reputation of the Beau as a teller of good things. "On one occasion," said Brummell, "I called to inquire after a young lady who had sprained her ancle; Lewis, on being asked how she was, had said in the black's presence, 'The doctor has seen her, put her legs straight, and the poor chicken is doing well.' The servant, therefore, told me, with a mysterious and knowing look, 'Oh, sir, the doctor has been here; she has laid eggs, and she and the chickens are doing well.'"

Such extravagances in those days were received as the essence of wit, and to such stories did the public give a willing ear, repeating them with unwearying zest. Even Sheridan's wit partook of this character, making him the delight of the Prince, who ruled over the fas.h.i.+onable world, and whose approbation was sufficient to give currency to anything, however ludicrous and absurd.

SIR THOMAS TURTON

There is a pleasure in recalling to memory even the school-boy pranks of men who make a figure in the world. The career of Turton promised to be a brilliant one; and had he not offended against the moral feeling of the country, and lost his position, he would have mounted to the highest step in the ladder of fortune. At Eton he showed himself a das.h.i.+ng and a daring boy, and was looked upon by Dr. Goodall, the then head master, as one of his best cla.s.sical scholars; by his schoolfellows he was even more highly regarded, being the acknowledged "c.o.c.k of the school." Amongst the qualities that endeared him to them was a fearlessness which led him into dangers and difficulties, from which his pluck only could extricate him. He was a determined poacher: not one of the skulking cla.s.s, but of a daring that led him to exert his abilities in Windsor Park itself; where he contrived to bag game, in spite of the watchfulness of the keepers and the surveillance of the well-paid watchers of the night. On one occasion; however, by some unlucky chance, tidings of his successes reached the ears of the royal gamekeeper, who formed a plan by which to entrap him; and so nearly were they pouncing upon Turton that he was obliged to take to his heels and fly, carrying with him a hare which he had caught. The keepers followed close upon his heels until they came to the Thames, into which Turton plunged, and, still holding his prize by his teeth, swam to the other side; to the astonishment and dismay of his pursuers, who had no inclination for a cold bath: their mortification was great at seeing Turton safely landed on the other side. He reached the college in safety; and the hare served for the enjoyment of merry friends.

Turton's history in after life I will not pursue; but must express my regret that he threw away golden opportunities of showing his love for cla.s.sic lore, and his ability to meet the difficulties of life, in the same bold way in which he swam the Thames and baffled the Windsor gamekeepers.

GEORGE SMYTHE, THE LATE LORD STRANGFORD

This is another friend to whom I am pleased to pay the tribute of a reminiscence, and who, if he was not as well known as most of those I have spoken of, was yet highly prized by many of the most distinguished persons, and formed one of a circle that had great influence in England. Being the son of the well-known Lord Strangford, the translator of Camoens, he had a first place in aristocratic society, and had he not given himself up to indulgences and amus.e.m.e.nts, might have reached the rank of statesman. The late Lord Strangford was distinguished by those external qualifications which are everywhere acceptable; his manners were polished and easy, his conversation elegant and witty, and these, added to great personal attractions, gave him a charm which was generally felt. Disraeli, Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, and the leading men of the day, were his a.s.sociates. When Lord Aberdeen became Minister for Foreign Affairs he selected George Smythe as under secretary; in which capacity he acquitted himself with great ability. He could not, however, act under Lord Palmerston, and rather than do so gave up his position. He did not long survive, but died very young; just as he was beginning to learn the value of his rare abilities, and had ascertained how best they might have been of use to his country.

THE HONOURABLE GEORGE TALBOT

I have a very vivid recollection of George Talbot, a brother of the late Earl of Shrewsbury, and who was a fas.h.i.+onable man about town, of whom there are many anecdotes in circulation. The only one that took my fancy was related to me in Paris, where he was as usual in the midst of the gayest of the gay, recklessly spending his money, and oftentimes resorting for resources to the gambling-table, where at last he was thoroughly pigeoned.

Talbot had tried in vain all the usual means of recruiting his empty purse. Being a Roman Catholic, like most of the members of one of the oldest families in Great Britain, he was a regular attendant upon the ceremonies of his Church, and acquainted with all the clergy in Paris; so he took the resolution of going to his confessor, unburdening his conscience, and at the same time seeking counsel from the holy father, as to the best way of raising the wind. After entering minutely into his condition, and asking the priest how he could find funds to pay his debts and take him home, the confessor seemed touched by his tale of woe, and after much apparent consideration recommended him to trust in Providence. Talbot seemed struck with such sensible advice, and promised to call again in a few days. This second visit was made in due course; he again mourned over his condition, and requested the priest's advice and a.s.sistance. His story was listened to as before, with much commiseration, but he was again recommended to trust in Providence. Talbot came away quite crest-fallen, and evidently with little hope of any immediate relief. After the lapse of a few days, however, he appeared again before his confessor, apparently much elated, and invited the worthy abbe to dine with him at the Rocher du Cancale. This invitation was gladly accepted, the holy father not doubting but that he should have all the delicacies in the land, to which, in common with the rest of the clergy, he had no objection; nor was he disappointed. The dinner was recherche; the best the establishment could furnish was placed before them, and most heartily and lovingly did the worthy abbe devote himself to what was offered.

At the end of the repast the carte a payer was duly furnished; but what was the astonishment of the reverend guest when Talbot declared that his purse was completely au sec, and that it had been a long time empty; but that upon this occasion, as upon all others, he trusted, as the abbe had advised him, in Providence. The Abbe Pecheron, recovering from his surprise, and being of a kind and generous disposition, laughed heartily at Talbot's impudence, and feeling that he had deserved this rebuke pulled out his purse, paid for the dinner, and did what he should have done at first--wrote to the members of Talbot's family, and obtained for him such a.s.sistance as enabled him to quit Paris and return home, where he afterwards led a more sober life.

A DINNER AT SIR JAMES BLAND BURGES'S, IN LOWER BROOK STREET; AUTUMN, 1815

I was once invited to dinner by Sir James Burges, father of my friend, Captain Burges, of the Guards: it was towards the end of the season 1815. I there met, to my great delight, Lord Byron and Sir Walter Scott; and amongst the rest of the company were Lord Caledon, and Croker, the Secretary to the Admiralty. Sir James had been private secretary to Pitt at the time of the French Revolution, and had a fund of curious anecdotes about everything and everybody of note at the end of the last century. I remember his telling us the now generally received story of Pitt dictating a King's speech off-hand--then a more difficult task than at the present day--without the slightest hesitation; this speech being adopted by his colleagues nearly word for word as it was written down.

Walter Scott was quite delightful, appearing full of fire and animation, and told some interesting anecdotes connected with his early life in Scotland. I remember his proving himself, what would have been called in the olden times he delighted to portray, "a stout trencher-man." Nor were his attentions confined by any means to the eatables; on the contrary, he showed himself worthy to have made a third in the famous carousal in Ivanhoe, between the Black Knight and the Holy Clerk of Copmanhurst.

Byron, whom I had before seen at the shooting galleries and elsewhere, was then a very handsome man, with remarkably fine eyes and hair; but was, as usual, all show-off and affectation. I recollect his saying that he disliked seeing women eat, or to have their company at dinner, from a wish to believe, if possible, in their more ethereal nature; but he was rallied into avowing that his chief dislike to their presence at the festive board arose from the fact of their being helped first, and consequently getting all the wings of the chickens, whilst men had to be content with the legs or other parts. Byron, on this occasion, was in great good humour, and full of boyish and even boisterous mirth.

Croker was also agreeable, notwithstanding his bitter and sarcastic remarks upon everything and everybody. The sneering, ill-natured expression of his face, struck me as an impressive contrast to the frank and benevolent countenance of Walter Scott.

I never a.s.sisted at a more agreeable dinner. According to the custom of the day, we sat late; the poets, statesmen, and soldiers, all drank an immense quant.i.ty of wine, and I for one felt the effects of it next day. Walter Scott gave one or two recitations, in a very animated manner, from the ballads that he had been collecting, which delighted his auditory; and both Lord Byron and Croker added to the hilarity of the evening by quotations from, and criticisms on the more prominent writers of the period.

LORD BYRON

I knew very little of Lord Byron personally, but lived much with two of his intimate friends, Scrope Davis and Wedderburn Webster; from whom I frequently heard many anecdotes of him. I regret that I remember so few; and wish that I had written down those told me by poor Scrope Davis, one of the most agreeable men I ever met.

When Byron was at Cambridge, he was introduced to Scrope Davis by their mutual friend, Matthews, who was afterwards drowned in the river Cam.

After Matthews's death, Davis became Byron's particular friend, and was admitted to his rooms at all hours. Upon one occasion he found the poet in bed with his hair en papillote, upon which Scrope cried, "Ha, ha! Byron, I have at last caught you acting the part of the Sleeping Beauty."

Byron, in a rage, exclaimed, "No, Scrope; the part of a d----d fool, you should have said."

"Well, then, anything you please; but you have succeeded admirably in deceiving your friends, for it was my conviction that your hair curled naturally."

"Yes, naturally, every night," returned the poet; "but do not, my dear Scrope, let the cat out of the bag, for I am as vain of my curls as a girl of sixteen."

When in London, Byron used to go to Manton's shooting-gallery, in Davis street, to try his hand, as he said, at a wafer. Wedderburn Webster was present when the poet, intensely delighted with his own skill, boasted to Joe Manton that he considered himself the best shot in London. "No, my lord," replied Manton, "not the best; but your shooting, to-day, was respectable;" upon which Byron waxed wroth, and left the shop in a violent pa.s.sion.

Lords Byron, Yarmouth, Pollington, Mountjoy, Walliscourt, Blandford, Captain Burges, Jack Bouverie, and myself, were in 1814, and for several years afterwards, amongst the chief and most constant frequenters of this well-known shooting-gallery, and frequently shot at the wafer for considerable sums of money. Manton was allowed to enter the betting list, and he generally backed me. On one occasion, I hit the wafer nineteen times out of twenty.

Byron lived a great deal at Brighton, his house being opposite the Pavilion. He was fond of boating, and was generally accompanied by a lad, who was said to be a girl in boy's clothes. This report was confirmed to me by Webster, who was then living at Brighton. The vivid description of the page in Lara, no doubt, gave some plausibility to this often-told tale. I myself witnessed the dexterous manner in which Byron used to get into his boat; for, while standing on the beach, I once saw him vault into it with the agility of a harlequin, in spite of his lame foot.

On one occasion, whilst his lords.h.i.+p was dining with a few of his friends in Charles Street, Pall Mall, a letter was delivered to Scrope Davis, which required an immediate answer. Scrope, after reading its contents, handed it to Lord Byron. It was thus worded:--

"MY DEAR SCROPE,--Lend me 500. for a few days; the funds are shut for the dividends, or I would not have made this request.

"G. BRUMMELL."