1797.
Although my mother continued till the time of her death in the habit of the Society of Friends, and my father followed most of the popular Methodists, I, from my earliest days of reflection, gave a preference to the Established Church of England. Notwithstanding this, my inquisitiveness now and then induced me to hear celebrated preachers of every sect. I remember one Sunday morning in this year, after intending to enter some church on my way to dine with my great-aunt on Camberwell Green, my ears were most agreeably greeted with the swelling pipes of the Surrey Chapel organ.[275] Why, thinks I to myself, should not I hear Rowland Hill? Surely it must be now full twenty years since I saw him in Moorfields, at my last visit to the Tabernacle. In I accordingly went; and though a smile with me was always deemed highly indecorous during divine worship, yet the truth must out; I could not help sometimes laughing—as heartily, though not so loudly, I hope, as all of us when led into the enjoyment of Momus’s strongest fits by the inimitable Mathews.
No sooner was the sermon over and the blessing bestowed, than Rowland electrified his hearers by vociferating, “Door-keepers, shut the doors!” Slam went one door; bounce went another; bang went a third; at last, all being anxiously silent as the most importantly unexpected scenes of Sir Walter Scott could make them, the pastor, with a slow and dulcet emphasis, thus addressed his congregation:—“My dearly beloved, I speak it to my shame, that this sermon was to have been a charity sermon, and if you will only look down into the green pew at those—let me see—three and three are six, and one makes seven, young men with red morocco prayer-books in their hands, poor souls! they were backsliders, for they went on the Serpentine River, and other far distant waters, on a Sabbath; they were, however, as you see, all saved from a watery grave. I need not tell ye that my exertions were to have been for the benefit of that benevolent institution the Humane Society.—What! I see some of ye already up to be gone; fie! fie! fie!—never heed your dinners; don’t be Calibans, nor mind your pockets. I know that some of ye are now attending to the devil’s whispers. I say, listen to me! take my advice, give shillings instead of sixpences; and those who intended to give shillings, display half-crowns, in order not only to thwart the foul fiend’s mischievousness, but to get your pastor out of this scrape; and if you do, I trust Satan will never put his foot within this circle again. Hark ye! I have hit upon it; ye shall leave us directly. The Bank Directors, you must know, have called in the dollars; now, if any of you happen to be encumbered with a stale dollar or two, jingle the Spanish in our dishes; we’ll take them, they’ll pass current here. Stay, my friends, a moment more. I am to dine with the Humane Society on Tuesday next, and it would shock me beyond expression to see the strings of the Surrey Chapel lay dangle down its sides like the tags upon Lady Huntingdon’s servants’ shoulders. Now, mind what I say, upon this occasion I wish for a bumper as strenuously as Master Hugh Peters did, when he recommended his congregation in Broadway Chapel to take a second glass.” It is recorded that when he found the sand of his hour-glass had descended, he turned it, saying, “Come, I know you to be jolly dogs, we’ll take t’other glass.”[276] I understand that Rowland Hill is not made up of veneer, but of solid well-seasoned stuff, with a heart of oak, and ever willing to exercise kindness to his fellow-creatures, upon the system of my friend Charles Lamb.[277]
ROWLAND HILL
“His ideas come red hot from the heart.”
Sheridan
In May this year I applied to my worthy friend, Mr. John Constable, now a Royal Academician, for any particulars which he might be able to procure respecting Gainsborough, he being also a Suffolk man; and I had the pleasure of receiving the following letter:—
“East Bergholt, 7th May, 1797.
“Dear Friend Smith,—If you remember, in my last I promised to write again soon, and tell you what I could about Gainsborough. I hope you will not think me negligent when I inform you that I have not been able to learn anything of consequence respecting him: I can assure you it is not for the want of asking that I have not been successful, for indeed I have talked with those who knew him. I believe in Ipswich they did not know his value till they lost him. He belonged to something of a musical club in that town, and painted some of their portraits in a picture of a choir; it is said to be very curious.
“I heard it was in Colchester; I shall endeavour to see it before I come to town, which will be soon. He was generally the butt of the company, and his wig was to them a fund of amusement, as it was often snatched from his head and thrown about the room, etc.; but enough of this. I shall now give you a few lines verbatim, which my friend Dr. Hamilton, of Ipswich, was so good as to send me; though it amounts to nothing, I am obliged to him for taking the commission.
“‘I have not been neglectful of the inquiries respecting Gainsborough, but have learned nothing worth your notice. There is no vale or grove distinguished by his name in this neighbourhood. There is a place up the river-side where he often sat to sketch, on account of the beauty of the landscape, its extensiveness, and richness in variety, both in the fore and back grounds. It comprehended Bramford and other distant villages on one side; and on the other side of the river extended towards Nacton, etc. Friston alehouse must have been near, for it seems he has introduced the Boot signpost in many of his best pictures. Smart and Frost[278] (two drawing-masters in Ipswich) often go there now to take views; whether they be inspired from pressing the same sod with any of this great painter’s genius, you are a better judge than I am. Farewell.’
“This, my dear friend, is the little all I have yet gained, but though I have been unsuccessful, it does not follow that I should relinquish my inquiries. If you want to know the exact time of his birth, I will take a ride over to Sudbury, and look into the register.[279] There is an exceeding fine picture of his painting at Mr. Kilderby’s, in Ipswich.
“Since I last wrote to you I have made another attempt at etching; have succeeded a little better, but yet fall very short. I shall send you an impression soon.
“I doubt there is nothing in my last parcel of cottages worth your notice; am obliged to you for the little sketch after Hobbima. I understand the present exhibition is a very good one; I understand Sir G. Beaumont excels. My friend Gubbins informs me that you have finished Lady Plomer’s Palace,[280] and that you have made a sketch from the fire in the Minories; surely it must have put our friend C——h to the rout.[281] Thine sincerely,
“John Constable.”
Mrs. Pope, the actress, died this year in Half Moon Street, Piccadilly, and was buried in the cloisters of Westminster Abbey.[282]
Being anxious to add something more to the memory of this amiable character, I applied to her surviving husband; when that gentleman very obligingly favoured me with the following copy of a record, which he made soon after her death:—
“The best of women and the best of wives drew her last breath at half-past two o’clock on Wednesday morning, the 15th of March, 1797.
“Her illness lasted about seven weeks; her complaint palsy, beginning in her head, and depriving her of the use of her left hand. Her death was an awful lesson; her loss irreparable.”[283]
In the room with the bow-window on the first-floor of the same house, Mr. Pope[284] produced some excellent portraits in crayons, of persons of the first fashion, many of them little inferior in every respect to those of the celebrated Francis Cotes;[285] the inimitable whole-length portrait of Grattan, of which there is an engraving, will be a lasting and mutual record of the artist and patriot. The following letter, given to me by my late worthy friend Dr. Mathew, was written by Mrs. Pope, to her friend Mrs. Mathew, of Rathbone Place:—
“Dublin, July 6th.
“I flatter myself that my ever loved and most highly esteemed friends will be pleased to receive the assurance of my health, and to know that I am in the possession of as much comfort as my mind is capable to receive out of England. Thank God, all things as yet go on well, and the exertions of business do not seem to do that injury to my health which I had great reason to fear. We have acted six nights, Jane Shore first, a very great house, well received, and Pope’s speech to Gloster twice repeated, which I think proves in a great degree the loyalty of the people.
“Gloster’s speech, thus:—
“‘What if some patriot for the public good
Should vary from your scheme,—new mould the State?
“‘Hastings.—Curse on the innovating hand that ’tempts it!
Remember him, the villain, righteous Heaven,
In thy great day of vengeance: blast the traitor
And his pernicious counsels; who for wealth,
For power, the pride of greatness, or revenge,
Would plunge his native land in civil wars.’
“It is impossible to describe the effect this speech had on the audience. I think you would have been gratified to have heard it; it is the first time a speech in a tragedy was ever repeated. Perhaps it proves the loyalty of this city. I hear there are sad doings in the country parts of Ireland; I trust we shall meet with nothing of it: we stay in Dublin all this month, then go to Cork. Our second characters were Mr. and Mrs. Beverley, highly esteemed and greatly spoken of; third, Belvidera and Jaffier—with good success. Their last new play, How to grow Rich, twice; and yesterday Elizabeth and Essex, which, by the way, Pope acted well. Next week Columbus. I count the nights, though now I trust I shall be able to go through them all. So much for myself.
“And now, my friends, let me beg that you will favour me with a little account of yourselves. I ardently wish to hear that you are all well and happy, in the full possession of that true felicity, which your goodness of heart so justly merits. God bless you both! Mr. Pope unites with me in respectful remembrance to the Baron, and affectionate esteem to the whole family, particularly in respect and affection to Mrs. and Miss Mathew. Adieu: I don’t like to leave off, and yet I hardly think you can read what I have already written.
“Ever your most affectionate
“E. Pope.”