HOOK AT LORD MELVILLE'S TRIAL.
On the occasion of Lord Melville's trial, Theodore Hook was present with a friend.
They went early, and were engaged in conversation when the Peers began to enter. At this moment a country-looking lady, whom he afterwards found to be a resident at Rye, in Sussex, touched his arm, and said: "I beg your pardon, sir, but pray who are those gentlemen in red now coming in?" "Those, ma'am," returned Theodore, "are the Barons of England; in these cases the junior peers always come first." "Thank you, sir, much obliged to you. Louisa, my dear (turning to a girl about fourteen), tell Jane (about ten), those are the Barons of England; and the juniors (that's the youngest, you know,) always goes first. Tell her to be sure and remember that when we get home." "Dear me, ma!" said Louisa, "can that gentleman be one of the youngest? I am sure he looks very old." Human nature, added Hook, could not stand this; any one, though with no more mischief in him than a dove, must have been excited to a hoax. "And pray, sir," continued the lady, "what gentlemen are those?" pointing to the Bishops, who came next in order, in the dress which they wear on state occasions, viz., the scarlet and lawn sleeves over their doctors' robes. "Gentlemen, ma'am!" said Hook, "those are not gentlemen; those are ladies, elderly ladies—the Dowager Peeresses in their own right." The fair inquirer fixed a penetrating glance upon his countenance, saying, as plainly as an eye can say, "Are you quizzing me or no?" Not a muscle moved; till at last, tolerably satisfied with her scrutiny, she turned round and whispered, "Louisa, dear, the gentleman says that these are elderly ladies, and Dowager Peeresses in their own right; tell Jane not to forget that!" All went on smoothly till the Speaker of the House of Commons attracted her attention by the rich embroidery of his robes. "Pray, sir," said she, "and who is that fine-looking person opposite?" "That, madam," was the answer, "is Cardinal Wolsey!" "No, sir!" cried the lady, drawing herself up, and casting at her informant a look of angry disdain, "we knows a little better than that; Cardinal Wolsey has been dead many a good year!" "No such thing, my dear madam, I assure you," replied Hook, with a gravity that must have been almost preternatural; "it has been, I know, so reported in the country, but without the least foundation; in fact, those rascally newspapers will say anything." The good old gentlewoman appeared thunderstruck, opened her eyes to their full extent, and gasped like a dying carp; vox faucibus hæsit, seizing a daughter with each hand, she hurried without a word from the spot.—Ingoldsby Legends, 3rd series, p. 69.