[98] See Percy’s Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, vol. iii.; and Lillo’s tragedy, “The London Merchant; or, the History of George Barnwell.” 8vo. 1731.
[102] Theodore Hook, at that time a very young man, and the companion of the annotator in many wild frolics. The cleverness of his subsequent prose compositions has cast his early stage songs into oblivion. This parody was, in the second edition, transferred from Colman to Hook.
[103a] Then Director of the Opera House.
[103b] At that time the chief dancer at this establishment.
[103c] Vauxhall Bridge then, like the Thames Tunnel at present [1833], stood suspended in the middle of that river.
[72] Dr. Busby gave living recitations of his translation of Lucretius, with tea and bread-and-butter. He sent in a real Address to the Drury Lane committee, which was really rejected. The present imitation professes to be recited by the translator’s son. The poet here, again, was a prophet. A few evenings after the opening of the Theatre Dr. Busby sat with his son in one of the stage-boxes. The latter to the astonishment of the audience, at the end of the play, stepped from the box upon the stage, with his father’s real rejected address in his hand, and began to recite it as follows:—
“When energising objects men pursue,
What are the prodigies they cannot do?”
Raymond, the stage-manager, accompanied by a constable, at this moment walked upon the stage, and handed away the juvenile dilettante performer.
The Doctor’s classical translation was thus noticed in one of the newspapers of the day, in the column of births:—“Yesterday, at his house in Queen Anne-street, Dr. Busby of a still-born Lucretius.” [Bushy’s Monologue was parodied by Lord Byron: see Byron’s works, p. 553.]
“In one single point the parodist has failed—there is a certain Dr. Busby, whose supposed address is a translation called ‘Architectural Atoms, intended to be recited by the translator’s son.’ Unluckily, however, for the wag who had prepared this fun, the genuine serious absurdity of Dr. Busby and his son has cast all his humour into the shade. The Doctor from the boxes, and the son from the stage, have actually endeavoured, it seems, to recite addresses, which they call monologues and unalogues; and which, for extravagant folly, tumid meanness, and vulgar affectation, set all the powers of parody at utter defiance.”—Quarterly Review.