In the riots of the year 1780, which at the same time endangered and disgraced the metropolis, Wilkes was lamenting the ungovernable violence of a London mob;—upon this, some brother citizen took him up shortly, and reminded him of the disturbances of which he had formerly been the occasion. “Sir,” returned Wilkes, “I never was a Wilkite.”
He was not apt to express outwardly any thing like chagrin or mortification, but he certainly took his disappointment at Brentford, the last time that he offered himself as candidate for Middlesex, very heavily to heart. “I should much have liked,” he would say, “to have died in my geers.” Upon a similar occasion he exclaimed, “I can only compare myself to an exhausted volcano.”
Among other peculiarities and contradictions which marked Wilkes’s character, was a passion he had for collecting bibles, of which he had certainly obtained a great number of curious editions. But he was nevertheless consistent in his profligacy, and whenever the subject of religion or scripture was introduced, treated both with the keenest ridicule.
He called one morning upon a friend who resided in a very close and retired situation in the city, but who had a small opening before his house, of a few yards square, and two plants, which once looked like lilacs, in large tubs, adorned his windows. Men were employed in painting the outside of the house. “Brother,” said Wilkes to his friend, “suffer me to plead in behalf of these two poor lilacs in the tubs; pray let them be painted too.”
Wilkes was particularly fond of the society of learned men, though not by any means profoundly erudite himself. On some distinguished Greek scholar being named to him, he expressed a great desire to have his acquaintance. “Pray make me know him,” says Wilkes, “and tell him I should very much like pergræcari[1] with him.” To which the person alluded to would have made no kind of objection.
There were other broken and unfinished scraps in the Manuscript about Wilkes, which in appearance were intended to revive the recollection of circumstances to be detailed at some hour of leisure. There is, however, this remark at the end.
Wilkes was of that distinguished eminence for facetiousness and humour, it may indeed be said for wit, that it was the fashion of the day to ascribe any very striking and popular bon mot to him, and about the time of his disappearing from the stage, to him or Jekyll. They have both, in all probability, had the reputation of saying what neither of them ever uttered; though both were eminently distinguished for saying naturally and unaffectedly innumerable good things.
A few of these children of questionable parentage are preserved. No matter to which of the above, or to whom, they belong.
Querist.—Where, observed a Roman Catholic, in warm dispute with a Protestant, where was your religion before Luther?
Q. Did you wash your face this morning?