No More Learning

Hume
refutes the mercantilist error which confounded money with wealth.
"Men and commodities," he says, "are the real strength of any
community.
In the national stock of labor consists all real
power and riches. " He exposes the error of the theory that the rate
of interest depends on the quantity of money in a country, and
shows that the reduction of it must be the result of "the increase of
industry and frugality, of arts and commerce. " He condemns the
«< numberless bars, obstructions, and imposts which all nations of
Europe, and none more than England, have put upon trade," and
points out the international character of commerce. "Not only as a


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DAVID HUME
7779
man, but as a British subject," he says, "I pray for the flourishing
commerce of Germany, Spain, Italy, and even of France itself. "
Till the age of forty, Hume's life was spent chiefly in the seclus-
ion of Ninewells, the family estate; interrupted by a sojourn of three
years in France from 1734 to 1737, by a few months' absence as com-
panion to the Marquis of Annandale in 1745 and 1746, and by a short
period of service as secretary to General St. Clair, whom he accom-
panied on the expedition against Port L'Orient in 1746 and on a mili-
tary embassy to Vienna and Turin. In 1751 he removed to Edinburgh,
where in the following year he was appointed keeper of the library
of the Faculty of Advocates, a post which he occupied until 1757.
The library of the Faculty was the largest in Scotland, and afforded
him an opportunity, long desired, of turning his attention to historical
studies. In 1754 he published a volume on the reigns of James I.
and Charles I. ; followed in 1756 by a volume on the period from the
execution of Charles to the Revolution of 1688, in 1759 by two vol-
umes on the house of Tudor, and in 1761 by two more on the period
from Julius Cæsar to Henry VII. Thus in the short space of ten
years he wrote and published his famous 'History of Great Britain,'
covering the entire period from the Roman conquest to the Revolution
of 1688.
ture.
Until the advent of Hume as a historian, history cannot be said
to have been cultivated in Great Britain as a branch of polite litera-
His predecessors were laborious compilers of dates and facts,
having no appreciation of the aesthetic possibilities of historical com-
position. Hume brought to his task consummate literary skill, and a
mind stored with the results of philosophical study and of economic
and political investigations. He was the first Englishman to see that
history is not merely a record of war and court intrigue, but that it
is concerned also with the literature, the manners, and the conditions
of life of the people. His profound psychological analysis of char-
acter, his insight into the complex social forces of history, and the
grace and charm of his style, won the admiration of his contempo-
raries; and the 'History of Great Britain' has furnished a method
to all subsequent English historical writers. In spite of a general air
of impartiality, however, Hume's history is as much a Tory as Mac-
aulay's is a Whig "pamphlet. " Thus, for instance, he draws a very
favorable picture of Charles I. and depreciates Cromwell. The expla-
nation is to be sought in the facts that he had no sympathy with
the religious enthusiasm of the Roundhead sectaries, and that he
conceived all intellectual culture and refinement to have been the
property of the court and the cavaliers. Recent investigations have
shown also that he used his authorities in an extremely careless man-
ner, and that he neglected documentary evidence at his command.


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7780
DAVID HUME
Since the rise of the modern critical school of history his work has
in fact been largely superseded. Nevertheless, it stood for generations
without a rival, and is even now almost unrivaled as a piece of
literary composition.
In 1763 he accepted the post of secretary to Lord Hertford, then
ambassador to France. In France Hume's reputation stood even
higher than in Britain, and he immediately became a social lion in
the Parisian world of fashion. Great nobles fêted him, and gather-
ings at noted salons were incomplete without his presence. He left
France in 1766, and after a short term as Under-Secretary of State
(1767-69) returned to Edinburgh, where he died August 25th, 1776.
Among his works of importance not hitherto mentioned are
Philosophical Essays concerning Human Understanding'; 'An En-
quiry concerning the Principles of Morals'; and 'Dialogues concern-
ing Natural Religion. '
(
Hume's personal character was thus described by himself in his
Autobiography, written four months before his death:-“I am . .
a man of mild disposition, of command of temper, of an open, social,
and cheerful humor, capable of attachment but little susceptible of
enmity, and of great moderation in all my passions. " The accuracy
of this description is confirmed by the testimony of his contemporaries
and the tone of his private correspondence. It was not until he had
reached middle age that he was able to gratify his taste for intel-
lectual society by removing from the country to the town, "the true
scene for a man of letters. " In his correspondence of 1751, the year
in which he settled in Edinburgh, appeared a characteristic bit of
domestic economy. "I might perhaps pretend as well as others to
complain of fortune," he wrote to Michael Ramsay; "but I do not,
and would condemn myself as unreasonable if I did. While interest
remains as at present, I have £50 a year, £100 worth of books, . . .
and near £100 in my pocket, along with order, frugality, a strong
spirit of independency, good health, a contented humor, and an un-
abated love of study. In these circumstances I must esteem myself
one of the happy and fortunate. " His reason for taking a house in
Edinburgh was that he might enjoy the companionship of his sister,
who like himself was unmarried. "And as my sister can join £30 a
year to my stock, and brings an equal love of order and frugality,
we doubt not to make our revenues answer. " It is pleasant to read
in his Autobiography that later his income rose to £1,000, and that
"the copy-money given me by the booksellers much exceeded any-
thing formerly known in England. " Slender as were his resources
during his first years in the Scottish capital, he turned his salary
as keeper of the Advocates' Library - £40 a year-over to the blind
poet Blacklock. He afterwards befriended Rousseau, when the latter


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DAVID HUME
7781
sought refuge in England from persecution. On this occasion, how-
ever, his kind offices plunged him into a disagreeable literary quarrel
with the morbid and perhaps mentally irresponsible beneficiary.
Absence of jealousy was a noticeable trait in Hume's character.
He gave assistance and encouragement to several of the younger
generation of Scottish writers; and his magnanimity is further illus-
trated by the helpful letter to his chief adversary, Thomas Reid,
which he wrote on returning the manuscript of the 'Enquiry into the
Human Mind,' submitted by the younger philosopher for the elder's
criticism. Hume was the first Scotsman to devote himself exclus-
ively, and with conspicuous success, to literatúre. During the closing
years of his life he had the satisfaction of seeing himself surrounded
at Edinburgh by a brilliant company of men of letters,- Adam Smith,
Ferguson, Blair, Gilbert Elliot, Lord Kames, Mackenzie, and others,—
who, whether accepting his philosophical opinions or not, derived
inspiration from his genial companionship.
M. A. Mikkelsen.
OF REFINEMENT IN THE ARTS
L
UXURY is a word of an uncertain signification, and may be
taken in a good as well as in a bad sense. In general it
means great refinement in the gratification of the senses;
and any degree of it may be innocent or blamable, according
to the age or country or condition of the person. The bounds
between the virtue and the vice cannot here be exactly fixed,
more than in other moral subjects. To imagine that the grati-
fying of any sense, or the indulging of any delicacy in meat,
drink, or apparel, is of itself a vice, can never enter into a head
that is not disordered by the frenzies of enthusiasm. I have
indeed heard of a monk abroad, who, because the windows of his
cell opened upon a noble prospect, made a covenant with his
eyes never to turn that way, or receive so sensual a gratification.
And such is the crime of drinking champagne or Burgundy,
preferable to small-beer or porter. These indulgences are only
vices when they are pursued at the expense of some virtue, as
liberality or charity; in like manner as they are follies when for
them a man ruins his fortune, and reduces himself to want and
beggary. Where they intrench upon no virtue, but leave ample
subject whence to provide for friends, family, and every proper


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7782
DAVID HUME
object of generosity or compassion, they are entirely innocent,
and have in every age been acknowledged such by almost all
moralists. To be entirely occupied with the luxury of the table,
for instance, without any relish for the pleasures of ambition,
study, or conversation, is a mark of stupidity, and is incompatible
with any vigor of temper or genius. To confine one's expense
entirely to such a gratification, without regard to friends or fam-
ily, is an indication of a heart destitute of humanity or benevo-
lence. But if a man reserves time sufficient for all laudable
pursuits, and money sufficient for all generous purposes, he is
free from every shadow of blame or reproach.
Since luxury may be considered either as innocent or blam-
able, one may be surprised at those preposterous opinions which
have been entertained concerning it: while men of libertine prin-
ciples bestow praises even on vicious luxury, and represent it as
highly advantageous to society; and on the other hand, men of
severe morals blame even the most innocent luxury, and repre-
sent it as the source of all corruptions, disorders, and factions
incident to civil government. We shall here endeavor to correct
both these extremes, by proving, first, that the ages of refine-
ment are both the happiest and most virtuous; secondly, that
wherever luxury ceases to be innocent it also ceases to be bene-
ficial; and when carried a degree too far, is a quality pernicious,
though perhaps not the most pernicious, to political society.
To prove the first point, we need but consider the effects of
refinement both on private and on public life. Human happiness,
according to the most received notions, seems to consist in three
ingredients, action, pleasure, and indolence; and though these
ingredients ought to be mixed in different proportions, according
to the particular disposition of the person, yet no one ingredient
can be entirely wanting, without destroying in some measure the
relish of the whole composition. Indolence or repose, indeed,
seems not of itself to contribute much to our enjoyment; but like
sleep, is requisite as an indulgence to the weakness of human
nature, which cannot support an uninterrupted course of business
or pleasure. That quick march of the spirits which takes a
man from himself, and chiefly gives satisfaction, does in the end
exhaust the mind, and requires some intervals of repose, which
though agreeable for a moment, yet if prolonged beget a languor
and lethargy that destroy all enjoyment. Education, custom, and
example have a mighty influence in turning the mind to any of
-


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DAVID HUME
7783
these pursuits; and it must be owned that where they promote a
relish for action and pleasure, they are so far favorable to human
happiness. In times when industry and the arts flourish, men
are kept in perpetual occupation, and enjoy as their reward the
occupation itself, as well as those pleasures which are the fruit of
their labor. The mind acquires new vigor; enlarges its powers
and faculties; and by an assiduity in honest industry, both satis-
fies its natural appetites and prevents the growth of unnatural
ones, which commonly spring up when nourished by ease and
idleness. Banish those arts from society, you deprive men both
of action and of pleasure; and leaving nothing but indolence in
their place, you even destroy the relish of indolence, which never
is agreeable but when it succeeds to labor, and recruits the spirits
exhausted by too much application and fatigue.
Another advantage of industry and of refinements in the me-
chanical arts is, that they commonly produce some refinements in
the liberal; nor can one be carried to perfection without being
accompanied in some degree with the other. The same age
which produces great philosophers and politicians, renowned gen-
erals and poets, usually abounds with skillful weavers and ship
carpenters. We cannot reasonably expect that a piece of woolen
cloth will be brought to perfection in a nation which is ignorant
of astronomy, or where ethics are neglected. The spirit of the
age affects all the arts; and the minds of men, being once roused
from their lethargy and put into a fermentation, turn themselves
on all sides and carry improvements into every art and science.
Profound ignorance is totally banished, and men enjoy the privi-
lege of rational creatures, to think as well as to act, to cultivate
the pleasures of the mind as well as those of the body.
The more these refined arts advance, the more sociable men
become. Nor is it possible that when enriched with science, and
possessed of a fund of conversation, they should be contented to
remain in solitude, or live with their fellow-citizens in that dis-
tant manner which is peculiar to ignorant and barbarous nations.
They flock into cities; love to receive and communicate knowl-
edge, to show their wit or their breeding, their taste in conversa-
tion or living, in clothes or furniture. Curiosity allures the wise,
vanity the foolish, and pleasure both. Particular clubs and soci
eties are everywhere formed. Both sexes meet in an easy and
sociable manner; and the tempers of men as well as their be-
havior refine apace. So that beside the improvements which they


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7784
DAVID HUME
receive from knowledge and the liberal arts, it is impossible but
they must feel an increase of humanity from the very habit of
conversing together, and contributing to each other's pleasure and
entertainment. Thus industry, knowledge, and humanity are linked
together by an indissoluble chain; and are found, from experience
as well as reason, to be peculiar to the more polished and what
are commonly denominated the more luxurious ages.
Nor are these advantages attended with disadvantages that
bear any proportion to them. The more men refine upon pleas-
ure, the less will they indulge in excesses of any kind; because
nothing is more destructive to true pleasure than such excesses.
One may safely affirm that the Tartars are oftener guilty of
beastly gluttony, when they feast on their dead horses, than
European courtiers with all their refinements of cookery. And
if [libertinism] be more frequent in polite ages, when it is often
regarded only as a piece of gallantry, drunkenness on the other
hand is much less common.
But industry, knowledge, and humanity are not advantageous
in private life alone: they diffuse their beneficial influence on
the public, and render the government as great and flourishing as
they make individuals happy and prosperous. The increase and
consumption of all the commodities which serve to the ornament
and pleasure of life are advantages to society; because, at the
same time that they multiply those innocent gratifications to
individuals, they are a kind of storehouse of labor, which in the
exigencies of State may be turned to the public service.
nation where there is no demand for such superfluities, men sink
into indolence, lose all enjoyment of life, and are useless to the
public, which cannot maintain or support its fleets and armies
from the industry of such slothful members.
In a
The bounds of all the European kingdoms are at present
nearly the same as they were two hundred years ago. But what
a difference is there in the power and grandeur of those king-
doms! which can be ascribed to nothing but the increase of art
and industry. When Charles VIII. of France invaded Italy,
he carried with him about 20,000 men; yet this armament so
exhausted the nation, as we learn from Guicciardin, that for some
years it was not able to make so great an effort. The late King
of France in time of war kept in pay above 400,000 men; though
from Mazarine's death to his own he was engaged in a course of
wars that lasted near thirty years.


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DAVID HUME
7785
This industry is much promoted by the knowledge insepa-
rable from ages of art and refinement; as on the other hand this
knowledge enables the public to make the best advantage of the
industry of its subjects. Laws, order, police, discipline, - these
can never be carried to any degree of perfection before human
reason has refined itself by exercise, and by an application to the
more vulgar arts, at least, of commerce and manufacture. Can we
expect that a government will be well modeled by a people who
know not how to make a spinning-wheel, or to employ a loom to
advantage? Not to mention that all ignorant ages are infested
with superstition, which throws the government off its bias, and
disturbs men in the pursuit of their interest and happiness.
Knowledge in the arts of government naturally begets mild-
ness and moderation, by instructing men in the advantages of
humane maxims above rigor and severity, which drive subjects
into rebellion, and make the return to submission impracticable
by cutting off all hopes of pardon. When the tempers of men
are softened as well as their knowledge improved, this humanity
appears still more conspicuous, and is the chief characteristic
which distinguishes a civilized age from times of barbarity and
ignorance. Factions are then less inveterate, revolutions less
tragical, authority less severe, and seditions less frequent. Even
foreign wars abate of their cruelty; and after the field of battle,
where honor and interest steel men against compassion as well
as fear, the combatants divest themselves of the brute and re-
sume the man.
Nor need we fear that men, by losing their ferocity, will lose
their martial spirit, or become less undaunted and vigorous in
defense of their country or their liberty. The arts have no such
effect in enervating either the mind or body. On the contrary,
industry, their inseparable attendant, adds new force to both.
And if anger, which is said to be the whetstone of courage, loses
somewhat of its asperity by politeness and refinement,— a sense
of honor, which is a stronger, more constant, and more govern-
able principle, acquires fresh vigor by that elevation of genius
which arises from knowledge and a good education. Add to this
that courage can neither have any duration, nor be of any use,
when not accompanied with discipline and martial skill, which are
seldom found among a barbarous people. The ancients remarked
that Datames was the only barbarian that ever knew the art of
And Pyrrhus, seeing the Romans marshal their army with
war.


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DAVID HUME
some art and skill, said with surprise, "These barbarians have
nothing barbarous in their discipline! " It is observable that as
the old Romans, by applying themselves solely to war, were
almost the only uncivilized people that ever possessed military
discipline, so the modern Italians are the only civilized people
among Europeans that ever wanted courage and a martial spirit.
Those who would ascribe this effeminacy of the Italians to their
luxury, or politeness, or application to the arts, need but con-
sider the French and English, whose bravery is as incontestable
as their love for the arts and their assiduity in commerce.
Italian historians give us a more satisfactory reason for this
degeneracy of their countrymen. They show us how the sword
was dropped at once by all the Italian sovereigns: while the
Venetian aristocracy was jealous of its subjects, the Florentine
democracy applied itself entirely to commerce, Rome was gov-
erned by priests and Naples by women. War then became the
business of soldiers of fortune, who spared one another, and to
the astonishment of the world, could engage a whole day in what
they called a battle and return at night to their camp without
the least bloodshed.
The
What has chiefly induced severe moralists to declaim against
refinement in the arts is the example of ancient Rome, which,
joining to its poverty and rusticity virtue and public spirit, rose
to such a surprising height of grandeur and liberty: but having
learned from its conquered provinces the Asiatic luxury, fell into
every kind of corruption; whence arose sedition and civil wars,
attended at last with the total loss of liberty. All the Latin
classics whom we peruse in our infancy are full of these senti-
ments, and universally ascribe the ruin of their State to the arts
and riches imported from the East; insomuch that Sallust repre-
sents a taste for painting as a vice, no less than lewdness and
drinking. And so popular were these sentiments during the lat-
ter ages of the republic, that this author abounds in praises of
the old rigid Roman virtue, though himself the most egregious
instance of modern luxury and corruption; speaks contemptuously
of the Grecian eloquence, though the most elegant writer in the
world; nay, employs preposterous digressions and declamations to
this purpose, though a model of taste and correctness.
But it would be easy to prove that these writers mistook
the cause of the disorders in the Roman State, and ascribed to
luxury and the arts what really proceeded from an ill-modeled


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DAVID HUME
7787
government, and the unlimited extent of conquests. Refinement
on the pleasures and conveniences of life has no natural tend-
ency to beget venality and corruption. The value which all men.
put upon any particular pleasure depends on comparison and expe-
rience; nor is a porter less greedy of money which he spends
on bacon and brandy, than a courtier who purchases champagne
and ortolans. Riches are valuable at all times and to all men,
because they always purchase pleasures such as men are accus-
tomed to and desire. Nor can anything restrain or regulate the
love of money but a sense of honor and virtue; which, if it be
not nearly equal at all times, will naturally abound most in ages
of knowledge and refinement.
Of all European kingdoms, Poland seems the most defective
in the arts of war as well as peace, mechanical as well as liberal;
yet it is there that venality and corruption do most prevail. The
nobles seem to have preserved their crown elective for no other
purpose than regularly to sell it to the highest bidder. This is
almost the only species of commerce with which that people are
acquainted.
The liberties of England, so far from decaying since the im-
provements in the arts, have never flourished so much as during
that period. And though corruption may seem to increase of late
years, this is chiefly to be ascribed to our established liberty,
when our princes have found the impossibility of governing with-
out Parliaments, or of terrifying Parliaments by the phantom of
prerogative. Not to mention that this corruption or venality
prevails much more among the electors than the elected, and
therefore cannot justly be ascribed to any refinements in luxury.
If we consider the matter in a proper light, we shall find that
a progress in the arts is rather favorable to liberty, and has a
natural tendency to preserve if not produce a free government.
In rude unpolished nations, where the arts are neglected, all
labor is bestowed on the cultivation of the ground; and the whole
society is divided into two classes,― proprietors of land, and their
vassals or tenants. The latter are necessarily dependent and
fitted for slavery and subjection, especially where they possess
no riches and are not valued for their knowledge in agriculture;
as must always be the case where the arts are neglected. The
former naturally erect themselves into petty tyrants; and must
either submit to an absolute master for the sake of peace and
order, or if they will preserve their independency, like the ancient


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7788
DAVID HUME
barons, they must fall into feuds and contests among themselves,
and throw the whole society into such confusion as is perhaps
worse than the most despotic government. But where luxury
nourisnes commerce and industry, the peasants, by a proper cul-
tivation of the land, become rich and independent; while the
tradesmen and merchants acquire a share of the property, and
draw authority and consideration to that middling rank of men
who are the best and firmest basis of public liberty. These sub-
mit not to slavery, like the peasants, from poverty and meanness
of spirit; and having no hopes of tyrannizing over others, like
the barons, they are not tempted for the sake of that gratifica-
tion to submit to the tyranny of their sovereign. They covet
equal laws, which may secure their property, and preserve them
from monarchical as well as aristocratical tyranny.
The lower House is the support of our popular government;
and all the world acknowledges that it owed its chief influence
and consideration to the increase of commerce, which threw such
a balance of property into the hands of the Commons. How
inconsistent then is it to blame so violently a refinement in the
arts, and to represent it as the bane of liberty and public spirit!
To declaim against present times, and magnify the virtue
of remote ancestors, is a propensity almost inherent in human
nature. And as the sentiments and opinions of civilized ages
alone are transmitted to posterity, hence it is that we meet with
so many severe judgments pronounced against luxury and even
science; and hence it is that at present we give so ready an
assent to them. But the fallacy is easily perceived by comparing
different nations that are contemporaries; where we both judge
more impartially, and can better set in opposition those manners
with which we are sufficiently acquainted. Treachery and cruelty,
the most pernicious and most odious of all vices, seem peculiar
to uncivilized ages; and by the refined Greeks and Romans were
ascribed to all the barbarous nations which surrounded them.
They might justly therefore have presumed that their own ances-
tors, so highly celebrated, possessed no greater virtue, and were
as much inferior to their posterity in honor and humanity as in
taste and science. An ancient Frank or Saxon may be highly
extolled. But I believe every man would think his life or for-
tune much less secure in the hands of a Moor or Tartar than
those of a French or English gentleman, the rank of men the
most civilized in the most civilized nations.


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7789
We come now to the second position which we proposed to
illustrate to wit, that as innocent luxury, or a refinement in the
arts and conveniences of life, is advantageous to the public, so
wherever luxury ceases to be innocent it also ceases to be bene-
ficial; and when carried a degree farther begins to be a quality
pernicious, though perhaps not the most pernicious, to political
society.
Let us consider what we call vicious luxury. No gratification,
however sensual, can of itself be esteemed vicious. A gratifi-
cation is only vicious when it engrosses all a man's expense, and
leaves no ability for such acts of duty and generosity as are
required by his situation and fortune. Suppose that he correct
the vice, and employ part of his expense in the education of his
children, in the support of his friends, and in relieving the poor,
would any prejudice result to society? On the contrary, the
same consumption would arise; and that labor which at present
is employed only in producing a slender gratification to one man,
would relieve the necessities and bestow satisfaction on hundreds.
The same care and toil that raise a dish of pease at Christmas
would give bread to a whole family during six months.
To say
that without a vicious luxury the labor would not have been
employed at all, is only to say that there is some other defect in
human nature, such as indolence, selfishness, inattention to others,
for which luxury in some measure provides a remedy; as one
poison may be an antidote for another. But virtue, like whole-
some food, is better than poisons however corrected.
Suppose the same number of men that are at present in Great
Britain, with the same soil and climate: I ask, is it not possible
for them to be happier, by the most perfect way of life that can
be imagined, and by the greatest reformation that Omnipotence
itself could work in their temper and disposition? To assert that
they cannot, appears evidently ridiculous. As the land is able to
maintain more than all its present inhabitants, they could never
in such a Utopian State feel any other ills than those which arise
from bodily sickness; and these are not the half of human miser-
ies. All other ills spring from some vice, either in ourselves or
others; and even many of our diseases proceed from the same
origin. Remove the vices, and the ills follow. You must only
take care to remove all the vices. If you remove part, you may
render the matter worse. By banishing vicious luxury, without
curing sloth and an indifference to others, you only diminish


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DAVID HUME
7790
industry in the State, and add nothing to men's charity or their
generosity. Let us therefore rest contented with asserting that
two opposite vices in a State may be more advantageous than
either of them alone; but let us never pronounce vice in itself
advantageous. Is it not very inconsistent for an author to assert
in one page that moral distinctions are inventions of politicians
for public interest, and in the next page maintain that vice is
advantageous to the public? And indeed it seems, upon any
system of morality, little less than a contradiction in terms to talk
of a vice which is in general beneficial to society.
I thought this reasoning necessary in order to give some light
to a philosophical question which has been much disputed in
England. I call it a philosophical question, not a political one.
For whatever may be the consequence of such a miraculous
transformation of mankind as would endow them with every
species of virtue and free them from every species of vice, this
concerns not the magistrate, who aims only at possibilities. He
cannot cure every vice by substituting a virtue in its place. Very
often he can only cure one vice by another; and in that case he
ought to prefer what is least pernicious to society. Luxury when
excessive is the source of many ills; but is in general preferable
to sloth and idleness, which would commonly succeed in its place,
and are more hurtful both to private persons and to the public.
When sloth reigns, a mean uncultivated way of life prevails
amongst individuals, without society, without enjoyment. And if
the sovereign, in such a situation, demands the service of his
subjects, the labor of the State suffices only to furnish the neces-
saries of life to the laborers, and can afford nothing to those who
are employed in the public service.


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7791
LEIGH HUNT
(1784-1859)
BY ERNEST RHYS
EIGH HUNT (whose two less distinctive first names, James and
Henry, his own pen has taught us to forget) was more
American than English by descent. His father, Rev. Isaac
Hunt, was a West-Indian, who received a large part of his education
at a college in Philadelphia; his mother, Mary Shewell, came of an
old Philadelphian Quaker family. His melancholy, which certainly
did not play a leading part in his temperament, Leigh Hunt always
declared came from his mother; his mirth from his father, who had
given up his charge in the West Indies
when the War of Independence threatened,
and sailed for England, where he lived a
rather improvident life. The boy Leigh,
who was by far the youngest of the family,
was born at Southgate, County Middlesex,
October 19th, 1784; then quite a country
village.
At eight years old he was sent
to Christ's Hospital, some ten years after
Charles Lamb and Coleridge had passed
their memorable school days there. Eight
years of its strong discipline, and Leigh
Hunt emerged "with much classics and no
mathematics," such being then the tradition
of the school, to spend a couple of years
in writing verses and roaming London, under the easy-going rule of
the Rev. Isaac, who collected and published a first book of his boy's
poems as early as 1801. Its contents are curious, perhaps, but not
worth preserving.

LEIGH HUNT
Some intermittent experiences as a London clerk in the attorney's
office of his brother Stephen, and in the War Office, varied by his
first essays as a dramatic critic, bring us to the climacteric point
when he joined his brother John in sundry journalistic adventures.
These, after some failures, led to the successful commencement in
1808 of the now historical Examiner newspaper, whose future seemed
so secure in the second year that Leigh Hunt felt warranted in mar-
rying Marianne Kent, to whom he had been for long affianced.


## p. 7792 (#614) ###########################################

LEIGH HUNT
7792
It was not until 1812, in its issue of March 22d, that the Exam-
iner's growing independence led it to its well-timed attack on the
vicious Prince Regent, and brought down the law on its editors'
heads. The attack was made in an outspoken leading article (one of
a series of such social criticisms), entitled 'The Prince on St. Pat-
rick's Day. Some little delay occurred in the trial; and it was even
intimated that if the editors would refrain from free speech in the
future, their offense would be passed over: but with great courage
they refused to give any such undertaking. Eventually the trial
took place in the King's Bench, Westminster, on the 9th December,
1812; and Leigh Hunt and his brother, who were defended by Lord
Brougham, were condemned to two years' imprisonment in separate
prisons and a fine of £1,000. Of the two, Leigh Hunt was sent to
Horsemonger Lane Jail. There he went on directing and writing
for the Examiner with undiminished spirit. Two numbers of its issue
for February 1813 (No. 267 and No. 268, the only ones the present
writer has seen) bear traces, as one might expect, of his political
rather than his literary pen. The paper makes somewhat the effect
of a thinner and smaller Nation, its ink a little faded, its type older
fashioned. It is sub-titled 'A Sunday Paper on Politics, Domestic
Economy, and Theatricals,' and it bears a characteristic motto from
Swift: "Party is the madness of the Many for the gain of the Few. ”
In its pages, during the time of Leigh Hunt's imprisonment from
1813 to 1815, appeared several of his best sonnets, and notably those
addressed to his favorite Hampstead; one of which follows below.
His account of how he transformed his prison cell within, by a wall-
paper of trellised roses, a ceiling of blue sky and clouds, a piano,
books, and busts, while without he contrived a little flower garden,
added to the testimony of Charles Lamb and others, tends rather to
falsify the real effect his days in jail had upon him. In truth they
left him broken in health; and he was heavily embarrassed in for-
tune, moreover, by the heavy fine. And of the new friends that he
gained among those sympathizing with his misfortune, it cannot be
considered that he was altogether fortunate, for instance, in being
thrown into contact with Lord Byron. As for Shelley and Keats, the
two names that most naturally occur, and with the most ideal effect,
in the list of Hunt's friends,—their friendship dates from before his
imprisonment. His new intercourse with Byron under Shelley's aus-
pices led to the unlucky visit of the whole Hunt family to Italy, and
the still more unlucky founding of the Liberal. There is no more
entertaining chapter in all Leigh Hunt's delightful 'Autobiography'
than that so light-heartedly relating the story of the voyage to Italy
and its results. As for the fate of the Liberal, it only ran to four
numbers, issued during 1822-3; but it is a bibliophile's prize now,


## p. 7793 (#615) ###########################################

LEIGH HUNT
7793
whether in the original parts or in the two volumes in which these
were collected in 1823. Of Leigh Hunt's other journalistic doings,
Charles Lamb's couplet reminds us of one:—
"Wit, poet, prose-man, party-man, translator,-—
Hunt, thy best title yet is Indicator. "
The Indicator, issued weekly from 1819 to 1821; previously a quar-
terly, the Reflector, continuing from 1810 to 1812; and sequently
the Companion, a weekly similar to the Indicator,-- account for many
years of sheer hard writing in Leigh Hunt's life, which was never an
idle one.
But the hardest task of the kind he set himself was the
Talker, "A Daily Journal of Literature and the Stage," consisting of
four folio pages, written with very slight exception wholly and solely
by Hunt himself, from September 4th, 1830, to February 13th, 1832. It
proved, as might have been expected, with his other avocations to be
considered, too much for his health; and on giving it up he fell back
on his favorite belle-lettristic weekly publications, in his London Jour-
nal (1834-5), and again his Journal at the latter end of his career. If
so much is said of these papers, it is because so much of his most
characteristical writing first appeared in their pages; and we have
not yet nearly exhausted the list of the periodicals to which he was
an occasional contributor.
When we turn to his books, we find in his 'Autobiography' perhaps
the most complete and individual expression of the man: his charming
fancy, his high spirits, wit, gayety, and abiding good-nature. But the
same lightness and ease of style, the same kindliness and shrewdness
of thought and observation, are to be found in his essays, so often
written currente calamo for some one of his weekly periodicals. Such
are the papers on the 'Deaths of Little Children,' 'The Old Lady,'
'The Maid-Servant,' and 'Coaches. ' His contributions, whether as a
poet or as a critic and appreciator of poetry, are, it is said, not read
as much as they were ten, twenty years ago; but they make alone a
remarkable contribution to nineteenth-century literature. His favorite
Spenser owes a new laurel to his praise. 'The Story of Rimini,' his
longest poem, still delights in its best pages, full as they are of
reminders not only of older poets like Spenser, but of Keats, whom
Hunt so strongly influenced; and such lines as those to "Jenny,"
or upon 'Abou Ben Adhem,' are simply unforgettable. His poems,
together with such works as his Men, Women, and Books' (1847),
'Jar of Honey from Mount Hybla' (1848), Imagination and Fancy'
(1844), Wit and Humor' (1846), and The Town' (1848), are best to
be read in alternation with the chapters of his 'Autobiography. '
We have preferred to pass lightly over his much-bruited quarrel
with Byron, the fault of which was mainly Byron's. It is pleasanter
XIII-488


## p. 7794 (#616) ###########################################

LEIGH HUNT
7794
to think of his unbroken friendships with so many poets and men of
genius, from "Elia," Keats, and Shelley, on to Carlyle, whose tribute
to him may be remembered along with that of Emerson and of Haw-
thorne. Accepting it as essentially true, we shall be able to forget
that Dickens ever caricatured him, or that his lack of economics
ever impaired the genuine character of the man and his work. The
present writer, writing in a house traditionally associated with Leigh
Hunt's sojourn at Hampstead, can only say that every story of his
career told by his few remaining friends and acquaintances bears out
the brighter estimate of his life as the true one. He lived until 1859,
dying in the house of a friend at Putney on August 28th, 1859. "His
death was simply exhaustion," we are told: "he broke off his work to
lie down and repose. So gentle was the final approach that
it came without terrors. "
In his prime, Leigh Hunt was described as a tall, agile, slen-
der figure; with black hair, vivid features, brilliant dark eyes, and a
lurking humor in the expression of his mobile mouth.
And except
that his hair grew white, he preserved this effect, and the grace and
courtesy of his bearing, to the end.
The best edition of his poetical works is still the Boston one,
edited by Mr. S. Adams Lee, joint author with Hunt of his post-
humously published Book of the Sonnet. '
sment Phys
JAFFÁR
INSCRIBED TO THE MEMORY OF SHELLEY
Shelley, take this to thy dear memory;-
To praise the generous is to think of thee.
-
AFFÁR, the Barmecide, the good Vizier,
JAFE
The poor man's hope, the friend without a peer,
Jaffar was dead, slain by a doom unjust;
And guilty Hároun, sullen with mistrust
Of what the good and e'en the bad might say,
Ordained that no man living from that day
Should dare to speak his name on pain of death. —
All Araby and Persia held their breath.
All but the brave Mondeer: he, proud to show
How far for love a grateful soul could go,


## p. 7795 (#617) ###########################################

LEIGH HUNT
--
And facing death for very scorn and grief
(For his great heart wanted a great relief),
Stood forth in Bagdad, daily, in the square
Where once had stood a happy house; and there
Harangued the tremblers at the scimitar
On all they owed to the divine Jaffár.
"Bring me this man," the Caliph cried. The man
Was brought was gazed upon.
The mutes began
To bind his arms. "Welcome, brave cords! " cried he;
"From bonds far worse Jaffár delivered me;
From wants, from shames, from loveless household fears;
Made a man's eyes friends with delicious tears;
Restored me-loved me- put me on a par
With his great self. How can I pay Jaffár? "
Hároun, who felt that on a soul like this
The mightiest vengeance could but fall amiss,
Now deigned to smile, as one great lord of fate
Might smile upon another half as great.
He said, "Let worth grow frenzied, if it will:
The Caliph's judgment shall be master still.
Go; and since gifts thus move thee, take this gem,
The richest in the Tartar's diadem,
And hold the giver as thou deemest fit. ”
"Gifts! " cried the friend. He took; and holding it
High towards the heavens, as though to meet his star,
Exclaimed, "This too I owe to thee, Jaffár! "
7795
THE NILE
I
T FLOWS through old, hushed Egypt and its sands,
Like some grave, mighty thought threading a dream;
And times and things, as in that vision, seem
Keeping along it their eternal stands,-
Caves, pillars, pyramids, the shepherd bands
That roamed through the young world, the glory extreme
Of high Sesostris, and that southern beam,
The laughing queen that caught the world's great hands.
Then comes a mightier silence, stern and strong,
As of a world left empty of its throng,
And the void weighs on us; and then we wake,
And hear the fruitful stream lapsing along
'Twixt villages, and think how we shall take
Our own calm journey on for human sake.


## p. 7796 (#618) ###########################################

7796
LEIGH HUNT
TO HAMPSTEAD
WRITTEN IN SURREY JAIL, AUGUST 27TH, 1813
S
WEET upland, to whose walks, with fond repair,
Out of thy western slope I took my rise
Day after day, and on these feverish eyes
Met the moist fingers of the bathing air; —
If health, unearned of thee, I may not share,
Keep it, I pray thee, where my memory lies,
In thy green lanes, brown dells, and breezy skies,
Till I return, and find thee doubly fair.
Wait then my coming on that lightsome land,
Health, and the joy that out of nature springs,
And Freedom's air-blown locks; but stay with me,
Friendship, frank entering with the cordial hand,
And Honor, and the Muse with growing wings,
And Love Domestic, smiling equably.
TO THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE CRICKET
REEN little vaulter in the sunny grass,
Catching your heart up at the feel of June,
Sole voice that's heard amidst the lazy noon,
When even the bees lag at the summoning brass;
And you, warm little housekeeper, who class
With those who think the candles come too soon,
Loving the fire, and with your tricksome tune
Nick the glad silent moments as they pass;-
O sweet and tiny cousins, that belong
One to the fields, the other to the hearth,
Both have your sunshine; both though small are strong
At your clear hearts; and both seem given to earth
To ring in thoughtful ears this natural song,-
In doors and out, summer and winter, Mirth.
GRE
ABOU BEN ADHEM
A
BOU BEN ADHEM (may his tribe increase! )
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold.
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,


## p. 7797 (#619) ###########################################

LEIGH HUNT
And to the presence in the room he said,
"What writest thou? " The vision raised its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord. "
"And is mine one? " said Abou. ་ Nay, not so,"
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still; and said, "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow-men. "
The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blessed,-
And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest!
RONDEAU
ENNY kissed me when we met,
JR
Jumping from the chair she sat in:
Time, you thief! who love to get
Sweets into your list, put that in!
Say I'm weary, say I'm sad,
Say that health and wealth have missed me,
Say I'm growing old; but add. -
Jenny kissed me!
7797
THE OLD LADY
From the Indicator>
F THE old lady is a widow and lives alone, the manners of her
condition and time of life are so much the more apparent.
She generally dresses in plain silks, that make a gentle rus-
tling as she moves about the silence of her room; and she wears
a nice cap with a lace border, that comes under the chin. In a
placket at her side is an old enameled watch, unless it is locked
up in a drawer of her toilet for fear of accidents. Her waist is
rather tight and trim than otherwise, and she had a fine one
when young; and she is not sorry if you see a pair of her stock-
ings on a table, that you may be aware of the neatness of her
leg and foot. Contented with these and other evident indica-
tions of a good shape, and letting her young friends understand
that she can afford to obscure it a little, she wears pockets, and


## p. 7798 (#620) ###########################################

7798
LEIGH HUNT
uses them well too. In the one is her handkerchief, and any
heavier matter that is not likely to come out with it, such as the
change of a sixpence; in the other is a miscellaneous assortment,
consisting of a pocket-book, a bunch of keys, a needle-case, a
spectacle-case, crumbs of biscuit, a nutmeg and grater, a smelling-
bottle, and according to the season an orange or apple, which
after many days she draws out warm and glossy, to give to some
little child that has well-behaved itself.
She generally occupies two rooms, in the neatest condition
possible.
In the chamber is a bed with a white coverlet, built
up high and round to look well, and with curtains of a pasto-
ral pattern, consisting alternately of large plants and shepherds
and shepherdesses. On the mantelpiece are more shepherds and
shepherdesses, with dot-eyed sheep at their feet, all in colored
ware: the man perhaps in a pink jacket, and knots of ribbons at
his knees and shoes, holding his crook lightly in one hand and
with the other at his breast, turning his toes out and looking
tenderly at the shepherdess; the woman holding a crook also, and
modestly returning his look, with a gipsy hat jerked up behind,
a very slender waist with petticoat and hips to counteract, and
the petticoat pulled up through the pocket-holes, in order to show
the trimness of her ankles. But these patterns of course are
various. The toilet is ancient, carved at the edges, and tied
about with a snow-white drapery of muslin. Beside it are vari-
ous boxes, mostly japan; and the set of drawers are exquisite
things for a little girl to rummage, if ever little girl be so bold,—
containing ribbons and laces of various kinds; linen smelling of
lavender, of the flowers of which there is always dust in the
corners; a heap of pocket-books for a series of years; and pieces
of dress long gone by, such as head-fronts, stomachers, and
flowered satin shoes with enormous heels. The stock of letters
are under especial lock and key. So much for the bedroom. In
the sitting-room is rather a spare assortment of shining old ma-
hogany furniture, or carved arm-chairs equally old, with chintz
draperies down to the ground; a folding or other screen, with
Chinese figures, their round, little-eyed meek faces perking side-
ways; a stuffed bird, perhaps in a glass case (a living one is too
much for her); a portrait of her husband over the mantelpiece,
in a coat with frog-buttons, and a delicate frilled hand lightly
inserted in the waistcoat; and opposite him on the wall is a piece
of embroidered literature framed and glazed, containing some


## p. 7799 (#621) ###########################################

LEIGH HUNT
7799
moral distich or maxim worked in angular capital letters, with
two trees or parrots below in their proper colors; the whole con-
cluding with an A-B-C and numerals, and the name of the fair
industrious, expressing it to be "her work, Jan. 14, 1762. " The
rest of the furniture consists of a looking-glass with carved edges,
perhaps a settee, a hassock for the feet, a mat for the little dog,
and a small set of shelves, in which are the Spectator and
Guardian, the Turkish Spy,' a Bible and Prayer-Book, Young's
'Night Thoughts' with a piece of lace in it to flatten, Mrs.
Rowe's 'Devout Exercises of the Heart,' Mrs. Glasse's 'Cookery,'
and perhaps 'Sir Charles Grandison' and 'Clarissa. ' 'John Bun-
cle' is in the closet among the pickles and preserves. The clock
is on the landing-place between the two room doors, where it
ticks audibly but quietly; and the landing-place is carpeted to a
nicety. The house is most in character, and properly coeval, if
it is in a retired suburb, and strongly built, with wainscot rather
than paper inside, and lockers in the windows. Before the win-
dows should be some quivering poplars. Here the Old Lady
receives a few quiet visitors to tea, and perhaps an early game
at cards; or you may see her going out on the same kind of
visit herself, with a light umbrella running up into a stick and
crooked ivory handle, and her little dog, equally famous for his
love to her and captious antipathy to strangers. Her grandchild-
ren dislike him on holidays, and the boldest sometimes ventures
to give him a sly kick under the table. When she returns at
night she appears, if the weather happens to be doubtful, in a
calash; and her servant in pattens follows half behind and half
at her side, with a lantern.
Her opinions are not many nor new. She thinks the clergy-
man a nice man. The Duke of Wellington, in her opinion, is a
very great man; but she has a secret preference for the Marquis
of Granby. She thinks the young women of the present day
too forward, and the men not respectful enough, but hopes her
grandchildren will be better; though she differs with her daugh-
ter in several points respecting their management. She sets little
value on the new accomplishments; is a great though delicate
connoisseur in butcher's meat and all sorts of housewifery; and
if you mention waltzes, expatiates on the grace and fine breed-
ing of the minuet. She longs to have seen one danced by Sir
Charles Grandison, whom she almost considers as a real person.
She likes a walk of a summer's evening but avoids the new


## p. 7800 (#622) ###########################################

7800
LEIGH HUNT
streets, canals, etc. ; and sometimes goes through the church-yard
where her children and her husband lie buried, serious but not
melancholy. She has had three great epochs in her life: her
marriage; her having been at court, to see the King and Queen
and Royal Family; and a compliment on her figure she once
received in passing, from Mr. Wilkes, whom she describes as “a
sad loose man, but engaging. " His plainness she thinks much
exaggerated. If anything takes her at a distance from home, it
is still the court; but she seldom stirs even for that. The last
time but one that she went was to see the Duke of Würtemberg;
and most probably for the last time of all, to see the Princess
Charlotte and Prince Leopold. From this beatific vision she
returned with the same admiration as ever for the fine comely
appearance of the Duke of York and the rest of the family, and
great delight at having had a near view of the Princess, whom
she speaks of with smiling pomp and lifted mittens, clasping
them as passionately as she can together, and calling her, in a
transport of mixed loyalty and self-love, "a fine royal young
creature," and "Daughter of England. "
THE OLD GENTLEMAN
O
UR Old Gentleman, in order to be exclusively himself, must
be either a widower or a bachelor. Suppose the former.
We do not mention his precise age, which would be invidi-
ous; nor whether he wears his own hair or a wig, which would
be wanting in universality. If a wig, it is a compromise between
the more modern scratch and the departed glory of the toupee.
If his own hair, it is white, in spite of his favorite grandson,
who used to get on the chair behind him and pull the silver
hairs out ten years ago. If he is bald at top, the hair-dresser,
hovering and breathing about him like a second youth, takes
care to give the bald place as much powder as the covered, in
order that he may convey to the sensorium within a pleasing in-
distinctness of idea respecting the exact limits of skin and hair.
He is very clean and neat; and in warm weather is proud of
opening his waistcoat half-way down, and letting so much of his
frill be seen, in order to show his hardiness as well as taste. His
watch and shirt-buttons are of the best; and he does not care if
he has two rings on a finger. If his watch ever failed him at


## p. 7801 (#623) ###########################################

LEIGH HUNT
7801
the club or coffee-house, he would take a walk every day to the
nearest clock of good character, purely to keep it right. He has
a cane at home, but seldom uses it, on finding it out of fashion
with his elderly juniors. He has a small cocked hat for gala-
days, which he lifts higher from his head than the round one
when bowed to. In his pockets are two handkerchiefs (one for
the neck at night-time), his spectacles, and his pocket-book. The
pocket-book among other things contains a receipt for a cough,
and some verses cut out of an odd sheet of an old magazine, on
the lovely Duchess of A. , beginning-
"When beauteous Mira walks the plain. "
-
He intends this for a commonplace book which he keeps, con-
sisting of passages in verse and prose cut out of newspapers
and magazines, and pasted in columns, some of them rather gay.
His principal other books are-Shakespeare's Plays and Milton's
'Paradise Lost'; the Spectator, the History of England,' the
'Works of Lady M. W. Montagu,' Pope and Churchill; Middle-
ton's Geography; the Gentleman's Magazine; Sir John Sinclair on
'Longevity'; several plays with portraits in character; 'Account
of Elizabeth Canning,' 'Memoirs of George Ann Bellamy,' 'Poet-
ical Amusements at Bath-Easton,' Blair's Works, Elegant Extracts;
Junius, as originally published; a few pamphlets on the Ameri-
can War and Lord George Gordon, etc. , and one on the French
Revolution. In his sitting-rooms are some engravings from
Hogarth and Sir Joshua; an engraved portrait of the Marquis of
Granby; ditto M. le Comte de Grasse surrendering to Admiral
Rodney; a humorous piece after Penny; and a portrait of him-
self, painted by Sir Joshua. His wife's portrait is in his chamber,
looking upon his bed. She is a little girl, stepping forward with
a smile and a pointed toe, as if going to dance. He lost her
when she was sixty.
The Old Gentleman is an early riser, because he intends to
live at least twenty years longer. He continues to take tea for
breakfast, in spite of what is said against its nervous effects;
having been satisfied on that point some years ago by Dr. John-
son's criticism on Hanway, and by a great liking for tea previ-
ously. His china cups and saucers have been broken since
his wife's death,-all but one, which is religiously kept for his
use. He passes his morning in walking or riding, looking in
at auctions, looking after his India bonds or some such money


## p. 7802 (#624) ###########################################

7802
LEIGH HUNT
securities, furthering some subscription set on foot by his excellent
friend Sir John, or cheapening a new old print for his portfolio.
He also hears of the newspapers; not caring to see them till
after dinner at the coffee-house. He may also cheapen a fish or
so; the fishmonger soliciting his doubtful eye as he passes, with
a profound bow of recognition. He eats a pear before dinner.
His dinner at the coffee-house is served up to him at the
accustomed hour, in the old accustomed way, and by the accus-
tomed waiter. If William did not bring it, the fish would be sure
to be stale and the flesh new. He eats no tart; or if he ventures
on a little, takes cheese with it. You might as soon attempt to
persuade him out of his senses as that cheese is not good for
digestion. He takes port; and if he has drunk more than usual,
and in a more private place, may be induced, by some respectful
inquiries respecting the old style of music, to sing a song com-
posed by Mr. Oswald or Mr. Lampe, such as
or
-
"Chloe, by that borrowed kiss,"
"Come, gentle god of soft repose,"
or his wife's favorite ballad, beginning-
"At Upton on the hill
There lived a happy pair. "
Of course no such exploit can take place in the coffee-room; but
he will canvass the theory of that matter there with you, or dis-
cuss the weather, or the markets, or the theatres, or the merits.
of my lord North," or "my lord Rockingham "-for he rarely
says simply lord; it is generally "my lord," trippingly and gen-
teelly off the tongue. If alone after dinner, his great delight is
the newspaper; which he prepares to read by wiping his spec-
tacles, carefully adjusting them on his eyes, and drawing the can-
dle close to him, so as to stand sideways betwixt his ocular aim
and the small type. He then holds the paper at arm's-length,
and dropping his eyelids half down and his mouth half open, takes
cognizance of the day's information. If he leaves off, it is only
when the door is opened by a new-comer, or when he suspects
somebody is over-anxious to get the paper out of his hand. On
these occasions he gives an important hem! or so; and resumes.
In the evening, our Old Gentleman is fond of going to the
theatre or of having a game of cards. If he enjoys the latter at


## p. 7803 (#625) ###########################################

LEIGH HUNT
7803
his own house or longings, he likes to play with some friends
whom he has known for many years: but an elderly stranger may
be introduced, if quiet and scientific; and the privilege is ex-
tended to younger men of letters, who if ill players are good
losers. Not that he is a miser, but to win money at cards is like
proving his victory by getting the baggage; and to win of a
younger man is a substitute for his not being able to beat him
at rackets. He breaks up early whether at home or abroad.
At the theatre he likes a front row in the pit. He comes
early, if he can do so without getting into a squeeze, and sits
patiently waiting for the drawing up of the curtain, with his hands
placidly lying one over the other on the top of his stick. He
generously admires some of the best performers, but thinks them
far inferior to Garrick, Woodward, and Clive. During splendid
scenes he is anxious that the little boy should see.
He is also
He has been induced to look in at Vauxhall again, but likes
it still less than he did years back, and cannot bear it in com-
parison with Ranelagh. He thinks everything looks poor, flaring,
and jaded. "Ah! " says he with a sort of triumphant sigh,
"Ranelagh was a noble place! Such taste, such elegance, such
beauty! There was the Duchess of A- , the finest woman in
England, sir; and Mrs. L———, a mighty fine creature; and Lady
Susan What's-her-name, that had that unfortunate affair with Sir
Charles. Sir, they came swimming by you like the swans. "
The Old Gentleman is very particular in having his slippers.