[5] "Thomyris" and "Camilla" were both revived in 1726; but neither of them then succeeded.
[6] J. N. has been favoured with the sight of an amethyst snuff-box set in gold, presented to Heidegger in 1731, by the duke of Lorrain, afterwards emperor of Germany, which Heidegger very highly valued, and bequeathed to his executor Lewis Way, esq. of Richmond, and which is now (1785) in the possession of his son Benjamin Way, esq.
[7] After a successful masquerade, he has been known to give away several hundred pounds at a time. "You know poor objects of distress better than I do," he would frequently observe to Mr. Way, "Be so kind as to give away this money for me." This well-known liberality, perhaps, contributed much to his carrying on that diversion with so little opposition as he met with.
[8] Pope (Dunciad, I. 289.) calls the bird which attended on the goddess
"———————a monster of a fowl,
Something betwixt a Heidegger and owl."
and explains Heidegger to mean "a strange bird from Switzerland, and not (as some have supposed) the name of an eminent person, who was a man of parts, and, as was said of Petronius, Arbiter Elegantiarum."
The author of The Scandalizade has also put the following description of our hero into the mouth of Handel:
"Thou perfection, as far as e'er nature could run,
Of the ugly, quoth H—d-l, in th' ugliest baboon,
Human nature's, and even thy Maker's disgrace,
So frightful thy looks, so grotesque is thy face!
With a hundred deep wrinkles impress'd on thy front,
Like a map with a great many rivers upon't;
Thy lascivious ridottos, obscene masquerades,
Have unmaided whole scores ev'ry season of maids."
Fielding also has introduced him in the Puppet-show, with which the Author's Farce (acted at the Haymarket 1729), concludes, under the title of Count Ugly.
"Nonsense.
Too late, O mighty Count, you came.
Count.
I ask not for myself, for I disdain
O'er the poor ragged tribe of bards to reign.
Me did my stars to happier fates prefer,
Sur-intendant des plaisirs d'Angleterre.
If masquerades you have, let those be mine,
But on the Signor let the laurel shine.
Tragedy.
What is thy plea? Half written?
Count.
No nor read.
Put it from dulness any may succeed,
To that and nonsense I good title plead,
Nought else was ever in my masquerade."