["ABRAHAM HAYWARD.", "Abraham Hayward, the last survivor of the generation of wits and diners-out which flourished in the second quarter of the last century. . . . . . His remarkable Christian name - which, by the way he hated - was the surname of his mother's family . . . . . . entered Blundell's in the year 1811. It is on record that he found both the discipline and the diet severe; indeed in after years he ascribed his permanent ill health to the hard school fare. In the Life of Dean Hook, who, with his brother, was Hayward's contemporary, the same complaint is raised, and the boys were soon removed, but Hayward remained until January 1817. Dr. Richards, the Headmaster, was a man of excellent parts but a strict disciplinarian, against whom it is remebered in Tiverton, after nearly a century, that he not uncommonly began the day's work by flogging half a dozen boys. Hayward was very likely a witness of the scene when the Headmaster, returning from his daily ride, heard a complaint made against Jack Russell, seized him by the collar and thrashed him out of hand with a heavy whalebone riding whip.", "Severity is stamped on every feature of the portrait of Dr. Richards in the big schoolroom. . . . . . . . . . . But setting aside the discipline and regimen, Hayward always spoke well of Blundells, praising its strong traditions and the manliness of the senior boys. The studies of the school made him a good Latin scholar, while from the rivers of Tiverton he learnt to become a capital swimmer, a skillful fisherman and diver.", "On leaving school he was articled to Mr. Tuson, a solicitor at Northover. . . . . . . . . . .

of *character* temper; but they were not those assigned to him by his
enemies"

Writing to a friend James Smith (one of the authors of the
Rejected Addresses) mentions a dinner in May 1836: "Our dinner-party
yesterday, at Haywards chambers in the Temple, was very lively. Mrs.
Norton was dressed in pink, with a black lace veil. Hook was the lion
of the dinner table; whereupon I, like Addison, did "maintain my dignity
by a stiff silence." An opportunity for a bon-mot, however, occurred,
which I had not virtue sufficient to resist. Lord Lyndhurst mentioned
that an old lady, an acquaintance of his, kept her books in detatched
bookcases, the male authors in one, and the female in another. I said
"Isuppose her reason was she did not wish to add to her library." But
this is not quite accurate. The joke was made by Lord Lyndhurst, and
the story which gave rise to it was told by Hayward himself.

1894 correspondence with Theirs...written for the use of the
Duke of Newcastle.....

A lady who knew him well wrote shortly after his death:
"One great charm of his society was, he flattered you by always speaking
of some interesting subjects and never wearying you by trivial talk.
He had a great power of adapting himself to his company. Still, he
held his own, never giving way either to prince or potentate. It must
never be forgotten how true and constant he was to his friends, and that
time never touched his regard nor weakened his sense of right or wrong.
He was a good lover and an honest nater"

Blundells, however, is not likely soon to forget the happy
phrase in which he called his old school 'The Eton of the West.

BLUNDELL'S WORTHIES by M.L. Banks, M.A. (Late Assistant Master at
Blundell's School)

London Chatto & Windus 1904.

LONDON LETTERS. GEORGE W. SMALLDY.

MR. HAYWARD.

(London, February 9, 1884.)

Not a few, I suspect, of those who read the headline of this letter
will ask, "Who is Mr. Hayward?" The question is one I have often
heard from Americans in London when they were told they were to
meet him at dinner. It is one no Londoner would have to put, nor
any foreigner on his second visit here. Mr. Hayward's fame and pos-
ition are the most striking example that can be quoted of the extr-
eme narrowness of purely social renown. Who in London was known so
well? Out of London no one was known so little, though an exception
may be made in favour of Paris where his acquaintance was very large.
Nor was his celebrity of today. For a generation he has had no rival.
For two generations he has been a figure. He was the contemporary of
Sydney Smith, of Sam Rogers, of Macaulay, and held his own with the
best of them. And he died only last Saturday. Nobody who ever met
him will forget him; but I suppose among those who knew him not his
memory may be only transient.

Abraham Hayward was born in 1802 (sic). He never had what is
called in this country a start in life. He went to no public school
and to neither University. He began life in a solicitor's office;
thence, by a not very usual transition, he made his way to the Bar,
to which, however, he was not called till he was nearly thirty years
old. He made no effort for practice, though he edited a law journal
and was ultimately made a Q.C. He had neither fortune nor family.
One of his grandparents was a Jew, and thence he got his first name
Abraham; by no means a passport to society. He translated "Faust"
into English prose, and it is still the best translation for those
who wish to learn the exact meaning of the original. He wrote for
"The Morning Chronicle". From an early period he was a frequent
contributor to the "Edinburgh" and "The Quarterly Review"; and his
essays have been republished. But none nor all of these incidents
in his personal history gives the least clue either to the origin of
his social career or to his extraordinary ascendency in the world
amid which he lived. Nor do I know, nor can I find anybody who does
know, how Hayward got his first step in the life he led so brilliantly.
I always meant to ask him and he would have told without hesitation.
But it is too late.

Three series of Hayward's Essays have been collected; a fourth
and last appearing under the title, "Eminent Statesmen and Writers!'
The first, issued in 1858, was so far from being successful that for
years the two 8vo volumes could be bought for five shillings. After-
ward the demand grew, they became scarce, and a copy in good condition
is difficult to procure for five times five shillings. The subsequent
series sold fairly well, but nothing Hayward has published can be
called popular. Yet, in their kind, his Essays are among the best in
the English language. They are excellent studies. They abound in anec-
dotes derived from his personal intercourse and experience. They

He made his courage and his power felt by friends and by foes. He attacked Lord Beaconsfield (one man whom he really hated) just as freely as he attacked Lord Beaconsfield's latest parodist and parasite. He delivered his criticisms on Carlyle with as much liberty of speech as if he were gibbering (which he often did) some new pretender whom Carlyle himself would have gleefully joined in dissecting. Probably he never wrote an article which gave him keener delight than the memorable paper in which he convicted Disraeli of appropriating without credit a passage from Thiers eulogy on Marshall St. Cyr, and embodying it in his own speech on the Duke of Wellington. It added zest to his task that he was able to demonstrate that the passage had not been borrowed from Thiers, but was a bodily transferr of an incorrect translation which had appeared in the "Morning Chronicle". As to Carlyle, Hayward thought, perhaps, that some of the praise bestowed on Carlyle for introducing Goethe and German literature in general to the English public belonged to himself, as it did; some also to Coleridge, he would equally insist. He denied to Carlyle the originality his disciples claimed for him. "The only original book Carlyle ever wrote," cried Hayward, "was 'Sartor Resartus,' and the only original idea in that is borrowed from the 'Tale of a Tub.'" It would be difficult to deny that the substance of the Clothes-Philosophy of Herr Teufelsdröck had previously been expounded by Swift. I am sorry to say that Mill was one of the objects of Hayward's dislike and that his conduct to Mill will not admit of a complete defence.

Nobody knew better than Hayward, however intolerant he might be what was due to the company or to his host. Staying not many years ago at a country house, I asked my hostess who were to be the Saturday to Monday party. She mentioned Hayward and two other well known men both of them in a way, good talkers, and neither supposed to like the third, nor yet each other. She was troubled when she heard this, but it was too late to make any change and the three duly arrived. As they were all three men of the world and of good breeding, there was no particular reason for alarm except that the party might not "go off" well. In point of fact nothing could have gone off better. The three were civil to each other, of course, and the two whose meeting was most dreaded became almost friendly. Dinner passed off without a single collision between Hayward and either of the other two. So did the more perilous hours in the smoking-room after the ladies had gone to bed. It is a pleasure to recollect that the only point on which Hayward grew warm was in behalf of a great American. One of the party said something in disparagement of Franklin, about whom he evidently knew little. I answered what I could, and Hayward broke in with a cry of encouragement: "You are right, you are perfectly right. Franklin was right; no man who knows the facts can say he was not right."

It was the Hutchinson letters we were discussing. Sunday passed also and when I said goodbye to Hayward on Monday he was in the act of off-

ering some books to one of the others; again a characteristic thing of him, for he was generous, and altogether devoid of anything like egot-
istic acquisitiveness.

I have known Hayward as long as I have known anybody in London,
or almost as long. I owed my first meeting with him to a dear friend of
his, himself one of the most delightful talkers then to be met. He had
the kindness to ask me to dine with him at his club. Hayward was the
only other guest. It was an evening never to forget. Hayward, perhaps
not sorry to have a listener to whom all his stories were sure to be new,
poured out from the fulness of his memory anecdote after anecdote in
inexhaustible profusion. I have heard him a hundred times since in the
midst of excellent company, with everybody to spur him on, and I have
never heard him excel his performance of this first evening. Swift,
sparkling, copious, equally wonderful for variety and for easy precision,
his talk sped on hour after hour, checking itself to give room for others
to talk, and resuming with the same untiring freshness and exhuberant
spirit; and always with an unexpected turn and some delightful novelty
to offer.

London will look in vain for Hayward's successor. Until within
a few weeks he was to be met in St. James's Street or in Pall Mall in the
afternoon; his slight bent form among the most noticeable and most
noticed of the many well known figures which throng those historical
pavements. He had a strong face; forehead, nose, mouth, jaw, alike de-
noting the power he possessed, the Hebrew blood in him growing more marked
as he grew older. He might have passed in the eye of a stranger as a
student more familiar with books than men. But the moment he met an
acquaintance whom he liked, his eye filled with a friendly light - the
thin small hand was put softly into yours and the first word told you
his last thought. He never fell into the commonplaces of conventional
greeting. He preferred to offer you a pungent comment on the uppermost
topic of the day. A criticism, an apt anecdote, an epigram, and with a
kindly nod he passed on again. He used to say he had outlived his time.
The tove that he had not was the geniality which to the last underlay his
most scornful words. Certain it is that he had not outlived the respect
or admiration or regard of his own world.

The last of the great talkers who went over to the majority
before him (Lord Houghton) was Hayward, and a comparison between Hayward
and Houghton would be an interesting one if there were space for it in a
letter. Houghton, however, who was not long a rival to Hayward, had
what Hayward had not - wit and felicity of speech and persuasiveness.
Hayward used to say of him that he had finer mental powers than he often
showed in talk, or even in books.

(Lord Houghtons breakfasts) Yet Hayward, who was as fresh at ten in
the forenoon as at ten in the evening, used to advise a friend to pay no

refined tastes, a well-to-do uncle, her brother, and a little later
the run of a really good library, secured him the intellectual train-
ing and opportunities calculated to give him, in the most useful form,
the varied culture and experience which constituted his working cap-
ital when, coming to London in 1824, he began keeping his terms at
the Inner Temple, where he was duly called eight years afterwards.
"My father's people," Hayward once said to me in one of his auto -
biographical humours, "the Hillcotts of Wiltshire, once had a really
good estate, which ought to have made me independent for life; and
all that reading could give I got beneath the roof of the Ilchester
solicitor to whom I was apprenticed. I got, however, more than this.
For the good parents, and especially the extraordinarily gifted mother
of my lifelong friend Kinglake, made their house in the Tafton district
called "Wilton", my second home."

"It was," Hayward went on, "something perhaps to have for
one's ancestors people who, like these Hillcotts-Haywards, had the pas
of all the parishioners in entering church. It was a good deal more to
live in my Wiltshire birthplace, under the very shadow of the Pembroke
mansion, in a different way as much an historical monument as Stone-
henge itself. In the picture gallery of Wilton House, as a child of
eight or ten, I first got the idea that English history, properly looked
at, would be found only another and longer corridor of portraits. Fitt-
ing on my own head the cap once worn by Charles I when he slept at
'Wilton' on his way to Carisbrooke, I seemed to imbibe some of the old
cavalier's spirit, making me a High Tory until I came to years of dis-
cetion, as all my elders and betters on both sides were, and more
particularly my Taunton uncle, Richard.* By first sending me to
Blundell's School in Tiverton, and then to the Ilchester attorney's
office, he put me in the way of getting exactly that kind of knowledge
which stood me in better stead than had I gone with my freind Kinglake,
as both he and his good mother wished, to Eton first and Cambridge
afterwards. The Wilton family also were my first patrons. Sidney
Herbert's introductions got me on to the staff of the Peelite "Morning
Chronicle" Together with a tolerable knowledge of German and French,
they procurred me, when I was abroad, quite a cosmopolitan aquaintance;
for, from his partly Russian parentage.† Russians, then great person-
ages in all continental society, looked upon Sidney Herbert as one of
themselves."

The qualities that gave Hayward's literary gifts a place amo-
ing the personal forces of his time were moral as well as intellectual.
His genuine ness, intensity, abhorrence of trickery and imposture, of
falsehood and sham; his dauntless determination to arrive, in every
case, at the facts himself, and to prevent others being misled by
phrases "wrung many withers". "Hayward," said a well known chaperone
to her charge, "will do you vehement justice if you are wrongly attack-
ed, but will show you no mercy if you make a slip." "What a horrid

man!" was the not unnatural exclamation. Horrid or not, she well knew he had, as things then were, to be propitiated. "Professional beauties," indeed, had not at this time come in. "Beauty Parties," with whose arrangement Hayward had much to do, were in great vogue, and brought him requests for invitation cards; he granted none of these unless he considered the aspirant came up to the proper standard, not only of good looks, but of good company.

As for men, Hayward was engaged in something like a lifelong warfare with only two - Bernal Osborne, a rival conversationalist he called to flippant, and Disraely (Lord Beaconsfield), whom he thought an impostor, and who cordially reciprocated his antipathy. For Hayward had been the first to expose, in the "Morning Chronicle" the twofold plagiarism of Disraeli's funeral panegyric on the Duke of Wellington. First the English speaker had appropriated the artistic phrases and the impressive imagery of Thier's eulogism of Marshal St. Cyr. Secondly, he had not read that oration in the original French. He only knew of it from Hayward's own rendering in the newspaper, and of that version he adopted the actual words. Quite apart from this incident, Disraeli's character seemed to Hayward essentially false, just as Mr. Gladstone's in spite of all his mistakes, had in it the ring of truth.

That he might have, as the psalmist puts it, the tongue and also "the pen of a ready writer," he found an opening for forensic as well as newspaper exercise. He made himself a really good lawyer by working in chambers all day. He listened most evenings of the week to the masters of debate at St. Stephens, where most of his spare half-crowns went in inducing the doorkeepers to give him a good place. When not there he practically studied the art of addressing an assemblage or convincing a jury in the London Debating Society, then frequented in their extra-parliamentary period by the budding orators, the social wits and the political philosophers of the time. At these discussions J.A. Roebuck on the Radical, and Hayward on the Conservative, or more often High Tory side, were the rival champions.

After being called to the Bar in 1832, a cleverly planned foreign tour made him almost as much a personage in continental society as he had become in English. He just missed Goethe, but he lived familiarly with Tieck; to the Countess Hahn-Hahn he became all that he afterwards was to Lady Waldegrave. In France he struck up a friendship with Thiers, lasting till his death. With that acquaintance began the constant interchange of visits and hospitalities between English men of letters and the intellectual lights of the Orleanist monarchy that during much of the nineteenth century's first half annexed certain more or less distinguished houses on both sides of the Channel into a single Anglo-French set; it's best known members in France being Thiers and Tocqueville, in this country Henry Reeve, Kinglake, A.H. Layard, and Hayward. A further friendly link of intellectual union between the two nations forecast, and even prepared the way for, the Intente of our own times. This link was forged by Hayward in the 'Law Magazine', whose pages brought together the

chief jurists on both sides of the Channel. The Franco-Prussian war
showed the importance attached, at least in France, to this internation-
al freemasonry. Just before the investment of Paris in 1870, Thiers,
coming to England on a futile quest for an alliance, went to Hayward
directly he reached London, and sounded his old friend on the possib-
ility of the Gladstone Government supporting France. "The idea," at
once said Hayward, "is quite hopeless". The visitor then began to
argue his case and to talk about the balance of power. "My friend,"
Hayward broke in, "put all that stuff out of your head; we care for
none of these things."

One of the literary events between 1860 and 1870, watched
with equal interest at home and abroad, was the collection of Hayward's
essays into the volumes which have not yet lost all their readers. As
a writer, indeed, his European reputation rested on the translation of
Faust (1833). This opened to him the Athenaeum, and coincided with the
beginning of his club life generally. He was among the earliest instan-
ces of the pen alone proving the key to the co-operative caravanserais
of St. James's Street and Pall Mall; and he headed in 1845 the list of
a hundred additional members taken into the Carlton. At the Bar his
conduct of the great Lyme Pathway case brought him many briefs. Roe-
buck's opposition prevented him becoming a Bencher of the Inner Temple
but not his receiving "silk". His old Wilton friends, as said above,
found him a new opening in the press, on the reorganized 'Morning
Chronicle'; brought by Sidney Herbert and others in the Free Trade and
Peelite interest. Apart from his pen no-one not in Parliament had so
much to do with the arrangements for the Coalition Government of 1852.
George Smythe, the original of 'Coningsby' had just lost his seat for
Canterbury; he was chosen by Hayward for his chief colleague and leader
writer.

Delane of the Times was unlike Hayward in being not a learned,
a specially literary man, or, indeed, anything more than a shrewd, open-
minded, genial citizen of the world. His editorial dignity did not
give him more influence abroad and at home than Hayward had secured by
his pen and tongue alone. The future Napoleon III when in exile in
London had consulted the leading spirit of the Peelite newspaper as a
kind of oracle. The Tauton uncle from whom Hayward had expectations,
calling on his nephew in his Temple chambers, had been disgusted a few
years earlier at not finding him deep in his law books and briefs, but
engaged with no other visitor than the future Napoleon III, the worse
specimen, as the uncle thought, of a needy foreign adventurer.

Hayward's crowning triumph as a practical politician came
in 1864. The Prussian policy of dismembering Denmark by the Schleswig-
Holstein annexation, coming, as it did, a year after the Heir -appar-
ent's marriage to a Danish princess, had raised the anti-German feeling
to fever pitch, and brought us to the verge of war. On July 23, 1863,
Palmerston, as Prime Minister, had it was thought, committed England
to the defence of Denmark. As a fact, however, the public sentiment

thus voiced proved neither general nor deep. After a few weeks or
even days, Parliament and Press alike endorsed Lord Stanley's words
that a European war for the sake of the Duchies would be an act, not
only of impolicy but of insanity. Full of all this, Hayward called
at Cambridge House and sat with Lady Palmerston till her lordship
from the Cabinet. The minister had an unusually worn and weary look.
Hayward, therefore, after a few words, rose to go, and left the room;
he had almost reached the bottom of the stairs leading into the hall
when he saw the master of the house leaning over the banisters above.
He next heard the voice, "Hayward, Hayward, come back! " The re-entering
 visitor then encountered the question, "What does all this mean?"
"It means," came the answer, "that none of you seem to know to what
you are heading." "Surely," rejoined the minister, "Russell and I
have not gone beyond a moderate and rational patriotism."

Hayward then showed his careful and minute analysis of the
party groups and individual opinions on both sides, conclusively
proving as they did the progressive formation of an irresistible
majority against war. "If you doubt me, ask Brand (the ministerial
whip). Unless," he wound up, "you execute an immediate change of front
you will be out in a week." A day or two later Palmerston went down
to the House and announced a "right-about-face" Hayward's influence
with Palmerston first, as with Gladstone later afterwards, arose not
only from his thoroughly practical turn of mind, but in foreign affairs
his accurate information about the personal views of statesmen
abroad and the steady, if often unnoticed, movement of feeling and
conviction at home. As regards the questions now looked back upon,
he almost alone among Englishmen knew that Bismarck, then first asserting
himself, was bent on taking the Duchies because at their northern
eastern corner lay the harbour of Kiel. This, in Prussian hands,
would facilitate the linking by a canal of the Baltic with the North
Sea.

Hayward delighted in the reputation of being behind the
political scenes, but never betrayed a confidence or spoke of anything
for which he could not give chapter and verse. A really good judge
of cookery and writer on it, he was a diner-out, not as a gourmet but
as an observer of life and character. "Within this twelve-month," he
said, not long before his death, "I have dined away from home - that
is from the club - only three times." "Cold beef," were the last
words heard him utter on this subject, "if you like, but good claret
and plenty of it." He might have added, "And no talker in the company
except myself." Failing that condition, he did not show to advantage
and generally remained silent throughout the evening. Hence he could
not socially co-exist with "a dinner-table and smoking-room hack like
Bernal Osborne, with a master of monologue like Macaulay, with his
friend Lord Houghton, a fine intellect spoiled by paradox, or with
Anthony Trollope, whose boisterous ways formed a striking contrast to
his own delicate dissections of feminine life and character" Great

that he was well versed in Massinger and Marlow, with whom he proved to
have only a superficial acquaintance, was John Forster. The celebrated
beauty who asked Lord Melbourne whether Baron Maule was the man he (Lord
Melbourne) made a judge of for burning down the Tower was Lady Harriet
d'Orsay. Hayward's note to me says: "She was a very clever woman, though
a lanquishing beauty, and meant it satirically." The 'eminent man of
letters' whose beau idéal of a wife or mistress was a woman who would sit
on a footstool at his feet, looking up fondly into his face, and only interrupt
him to whisper that he was the handsomest creature on earth, was
Edward Bulwer, Lord Lytton." Chpt.XII pp. 342/345.

Edmund Yates: His Recollections and Experiences.
Pub. Richard Bentley and Son, 1885.

"As I was revising this chapter in proof I received a letter from Captain Dawson Damer, who says: "I have lost an old friend in Hayward. I only heard from him a short time ago; it was in regard to 'white ties'. I asked him when they came into fashion. He replied, 'One night about 1850 about the very last night of Vauxhall, the elder Miss Berry, aged eighty-five, Horace Walpole's flame, asked me to escort her there, and she suddenly, on entering the Gardens, looked at my white tie, and she said to me, "The last time I was here I came with Beau Brummell, who wore a white neckcloth for the first time; and it attracted much notice, and there rose an enquiry whether B.B. had taken orders." Chpt. 5 p.121.

"I have a note of another delightful dinner with the Lord Chief (Cockburn) some years later, in May '75, when we were present Lord Kenmare, Lord Elcho, Lord Camoys, the Spanish Ambassador, Sir Henry Pelly, Mr. Delane, Mr. Hayward, Mr. Benjamine, Q.C., Mr. Waddy, Q.C., and Captain Cockburn."

Chpt.XII p.325.

Hayward and Disraeli.

Disraeli to his sister.

Deepdene. Dec. 26th. 1840.

"We arrived here a week ago, with our host and the Adrian Hope's. Then came Mr. Mitchell, very amusing; Baron and Baroness de Cetto, Walpole, Lord de Lisle, Sir A Grant, and Lord and Lady Ernest Bruce; two days after came Baron Gersdorf, Sir Hume Campbell; and these formed our Christmas party, with the addition of the delectable Mr. Hayward. Our party very merry and agreeable, and we have had many Christmas gambols, charades and ghosts; and our princely host made all the ladies a Christmas box; to Mary Anne two beautiful specimens of Dresden china, a little gentleman in a cocked hat and full dress and a most charming little lady covered with lace."

Moneypenny and Buckle. p. 96.

1870.

Abraham Hayward wrote the review of "Lothair" in the "Quarterly" and condemned it with the utmost severity. In the general preface Disraeli remarks about critics are said to be aimed at Hayward and Houghton accusing them of enhancing their reputations for posterity by libelling some eminent personage.

Moneypenny and Buckle.

1872. Jan. 27th.

Disraeli to Lord Cairns.

"Affairs here are most critical and anxious. All is absorbed in the Alabama question. Hayward told Exmouth yesterday, that unless they withdraw from the arbitration, the Cabinet must break up.....

Memoirs etc.

Hayward always sat on the lowest chair or settee that he could find
in the room and told his stories in a low voice.

A German scholar visiting London was surprised by a visit by Hayward
to his hotel bearing an invitation to dine with Jeremy Bentham at the
philosopher's house in Queens-place Square. As the German did not
know his way about London he asked Hayward if he would call and escort
him to Bentham's. On the day of the dinner Hayward duly arrived and
accompanied the German to Queens-place Square but when they arrived at
the house, to the German's astonishment Hayward shook his hand and
departed explaining that he had merely been instructed to deliver the
invitation and had not been invited himself. The professor was due
for further surprises for he found that to eat his dinner he had to
climb a ladder in the library onto a platform where dinner was served
for himself and three others amid the books. (The dinner must have been
given about 1831 as Bentham died in 1832).

Echoes of the Week. London Illustrated News Feb.9th 1884.

At the time of the Reform Bill of 1867 many people were puzzled by the
term 'Compound Householder'. At a dinner about this time Madame Apponyi
enquired what it meant and Hay ward explained that "It was the Masculine
of the Femme Incompris"

## Portraits of the Seventies.

"A constant guest at these banquet's (Lady Waldegrave's) was Mr. Abraham
Hayward Q.C., of Quarterly Review fame. He was a small man of somewhat
peculiar countenance, with an extraordinary laugh. Possessed of consider-
able powers of satire, towards the end of his life he was inclined to
exercise too little restraint in his criticisms, which sometimes outran
the limits of good taste.

Mr. Hayward's political convictions were Liberal, and the small services
he had rendered as a Palmerstonian satellite procured him the run of a
good many social circles, of which he was for some years a fairly enter-
taining member. His ways and customs, however, instead of improving,
gradually deteriorated by society's toleration, and he grew addicted to
rather aggressive noisiness, more especially after a copious dinner, such
as soul (to particularise no physical organ) greatly loved. One of his
most irritating habits was a trick of constant misquotation in French,
believing himself to be a master of the language, and remaining sublimely
unconscious of the errors into which he blundered. On one occasion, for
instance, for some reason of his own, anxious to impress his hearers with
a sense of his own importance, he sought to do so through the medium of
the accepted French saying, "Je ne suis pas la rose, mais j'ai vécu
près d'elle" Unfortunately, however, he stumbled upon the word 'avec'
instead of 'près' without suspicion of the solecism he had committed and
the entirely changed meaning of the phrase, and was, in consequence,
summarily annihilated by the sarcasm "Well if you have it isn't manners
to say so"

The Reminiscences of Lady Dorothy Neville.

THE EDINGBURGH REVIEW.

FEBRUARY 1843.

ART. 1 - 1. César Birotteau. Par M. de Balzac. Nouvelle Edition. & vo. Paris: 1841

2. Histoire de M. Jobard. &vo. Par Cham. Paris: 1842.

M. Birotteau is a worthy citizen, who, impatient at the slow results of industry, resolves to make his fortune at a bound. M. Jobard is a simple-minded believer in Advertisements. Which of us does not, in some respect, resemble a Birotteau or a Jobard? - was the question we asked ourselves as we laid down the works in which their adventures are recorded, and took up the extra sheet of the *Times*. Here, within the compass of a single Newspaper, are about five hundred announcements of wants or superfluities - remedies for all sorts of ailments - candidates for all sorts of situations - conveyances for those who wish to travel, establishments for those who wish to stay at home - investments for him who has made his fortune, and modes of growing rich for him who has that pleasure yet to come - elixirs to make us beautiful, and balms to preserve us from decay - new theatres for the idle, new chapels for the serious, new cemeteries in pleasant situations for the dead: - carriages, horses, dogs, men-servants, maid-servants, East India Directors, and Governesses, - now is all this to be disregarded or disbelieved, without willfully shutting our eyes to the progress of society; or living in an habitual state of apprehension, resembling that of the late Mr. Accum of 'Death in the Pot' celebrity, who believed that everything he ate was poisoned more or less, and regarded every butcher as a Caesar Lorgia, and every cookmaid who boiled a potatoe for him as a Marquise de Brinvilliers in disguise?

In snort, there is no disquising it, the grand principle of modern existence is notoriety; we live and move and have our being in print. Hardly a second-rate Dandy can start for the moors, or a retired Slop-seller leave London for Margate, without announcing the 'fashionable movement' in the *Morning Post*; and what Curran said of Byron, that 'he wept for the press, and wiped his eyes with the public,' may now be predicated of everyone who is striving for any sort of distinction. He must not only weep, but eat, drink, walk, talk, hunt, shoot, give parties, and travel, in the newspapers. People now-a-days contemptuously reject the old argument, 'whom not to know argues yourself unknown.' The universal inference is, that, if a man be not known, he cannot be worth knowing; and any attempt to couple merit with modesty is invariably met with the well known aphorism of the Reverend Sydney Smith, that the only connexion between them is their both beginning with an m. In this state of things it is useless to swim against the stream, and folly to differ from our contemporaries: a prudent youth will purchase the last

["PROPERTYS EMBROCATION FOR GOUT.-- This invaluable article has been for many years used in Private Families; and although applied in many of the most desperate cases, has never once been known to fail:-- it gives instantaneous relief, and in a few applications effects a cure, without injury to health.", "The Balm of Syriacum, 'a sovereign remedy for both bodily and mental decay,' is recommended in an address to her Majesty: - 'It is a peculiar satisfaction, too, for us to consider, that the Royal Household, as well as the public at large, have experienced the benefit of our Medicine, of which we have been favoured with testimonies highly flattering to our reputation and future fame.' This kind of loyalty can be spared.", "Mr Cockle's Antibilious Pills are recommended by a long list of patients patrons, containing ten Dukes, five Marquises, seventeen Earls, eight Viscounts, sixteen Lords, one Archbishop (Armagh), fifteen Bishops, the Adjutant-General, the Advocate-General, Sir Francis Burdett, Sir Andrew Agnew, Alderman Wood, and Mr. Sargeant Talfourd, who may be regarded as representing both literature and law. This list might give rise to curious speculations as to the comparative billiousness of the higher classes. We only hope the preponderance of Bishops will not be made the groundwork of any insinuations against the Church.\nFortunately the English Archbishops have not lent their names; and we understand that the Bishop of London did not put down his until after the publication of a certain letter from a Canon-Residentiary of St. Pauls.", "One of the testimonials to Congreve's Balsamic Elixir runs thus:-\n\n> 'Notwithstanding I had been lately married, I found it impossible to sleep on the same pillow with my husband, but was obliged to be supported with bolsters in nearly an upright position. This, to a person in the situation I then was, was extremely unpleasant.'", "The concluding proposition is undeniable. She was enabled to lie down in bed (attested by her husband) after taking a quart bottle of the Elixir.", "Another grateful patient says:- *My cough, which had broken fifteen bloodvessels, was completely subdued. I may now say I am a miracle in the eyes of all those who were in the habit of seeing me.*", "Baker's Patent Antidote for the Prevention of Sea-Sickness, has proved so efficacious that the stewards of steam-vessels, we are confidently assured, refuse to distribute it for fear of its diminishing the call for brandy and water.\n\n*FORMS:* IX, XXIV, LIV, LIX, LXXIV, CXXIV, CXXV, CXXIX, CXXIX, CXXX, CXXXI, CXXXII, CXXXIII, CXXXIV, CXXXV, CXXXVI, CXXXVII, CXXXVIII, CXXXIX, CXXXIV, CXXXVII, CXXXVIII, CXXXIX, CXXXVII, CXXXVIII, CXXXIX, CXXXVIII, CXXXIX, C

gentlemen. I think myself that the Antidote is a very excellent medicine to take. - F. Willis, Steward.

Mr. Willis is apparently not much used to writing, but the statement is highly satisfactory; and it is a comfort to know that great men may in future be saved from a malady which renders them not only wretched but ludicrous.

'Who (says Mr. Baker in a passage reprinted from Blackwood) has not suffered from Sea-Sickness? - that remorseless friend, who, sparing neither age nor sex, intelligence nor respectability, makes a point of setting at defiance all the decorums of etiquette, all the grace of attitude, all the claims of humanity. I have seen dignified statesmen, lovely women, poets of the most romantic, divines of the most spiritual cast of countenance, all huddled together at a ship's side with confusion truly humiliating, yellow as daffodils, and moaning as dismally as a north wind whistling through a keyhole of a back attic. Sea-Sickness! The very word is an emetic; and I neave while I write it.'

(Quotes verses by Moore and examples of advertisements for runaway slaves from Dicken's American Notes) (also episode of Mr. Titmouse changing the colour of his hair in 'Ten Thousand a-Year' which he says is "the passage in question is one of the cleverest in the book")

.................. We will now set down a few of a miscellaneous character which appear well adapted to trow light on manners and soiree.

.................. What could be the motive of the individual who inserted this? WANTED, a SECOND -HAND COAT-OF-ARMS of her Royal Highness the Princess Augusta. Address, post-paid, to A.B., 13, Skinner Street, Snow Hill.

A friend recently arrived from Calcutta has given us a specimen.

The top of the second column of the *Times* is devoted to advertisements of the pathetic, appealing, interesting, remonstrating, despairing, or denouncing order -

'For God's sake return or write.- Do, dearest Billy, do.'

'How can C.T. prefer wandering amongst strangers to a quiet and virtuous home? If he will come back, the greatest care shall be taken of him during his mental aberrations.'

'To R.E.L. - You have only a week more. Repent and reform within this time, or we cast you off for ever.'

The following are well known -

If WILLIAM will return to his affectionate parents, he shall not be snubbed by his sister, and be allowed to sweeten his own tea.

To M.N. - If you don't choose to come back, please return the key of the tea-caddy.

These are probably paid at a high rate. Indeed, no sort of sentiment is cheap. Dr. H called at the *times* office to enquire the charge of inserting

7

the death of a relation. A surly clerk said ten shillings. Dr. H
remonstrated, and said he had only paid seven shillings for the last:
'On,' said the clerk, 'that was a common death, but this is a _sincerely_
regretted.' 'Well, my friend,' said the doctor, laying down the ten
shillings, your executors will never be put to that expense.'
We wish the 'sincerely regretted' cost ten times as much, for nothing
can be more preposterous than such a mode of paying compliments to the
merits of a dear defunct..................

The labour of English people undergo to appear fashionable, or something
else which they are not, is the constant subject of satirical reflection
on the Continent. The most ludicrous fictions are founded on this sup-
posed weakness. For example -

"There exist in the suburbs of London establishments which are called "Splashing Houses," (maisons d'éclaboussures.) A man of fashion, who possesses neither houses, lands, nor kennels, but who has credit with his tailor, announces to all his acquaintance that he is about to leave town for a few days hunting. He quits the suspicious hotel in which he lodges at the west-end, gives notice that he will be absent eight or ten days, and hides himself in an obscure inn in the other extremity of the city. The proper moment having arrived, he dresses himself in an entire and complete hunting costume of the newest fashion. That done, he gets into a hackney-coach and drives to a "splashing-house" where, for the moderate sum of seven shillings, he is splashed from head to foot. These establishments have mud from all the counties, particularly those of them renowned for hunting, and are provided, moreover, with a wooden horse. The attendant who performs the functions of a groom asks, with the utmost gravity, if the gentleman wishes to return from Buckinghamshire - from Staffordshire - from Derbyshire, &c. When our "fashionable" has made his choice, he mounts the automaton quadruped, which, by the most ingenious mechanism, raises his hind and fore-legs, ambles, trots, gallops, and bespatters his rider with as much mud, and with the same regularity, as could a real horse crossing the fields in full couse. The operation terminated, the elegant gentleman, his cutting whip in his hand, reacensis Bond Street, Regent Street, Piccadilly, Pall-Mall, &c., and thus impresses all the world with the belief that he has been one of a superb hunting party.' - Almanach Prophetique for 1843.

We made diligent enquiries for this establishment, but in vain. It is
certain, however, that many gentlemen parade the streets in fixed spurs
who never possessed a horse, and would find it no easy matter to stick
to him if they had one. 'Jack Brag' paid so much a-year for the rent
of a few square inches of a door in Grosvenor Street, that, by the aid
of a brass plate, he might gain the credit of living there; and if we
turn to the 'Court Guide,' and read over the names of those who are
supposed to live at the first-rate hotels, we shall find several who
have no better claim to a well-sounding address than our friend Jack...
We know an artist of reputation who dresses as the conquerer of
Waterloo; Count d'Orsay has three or four doubles; and there are few

Park equestrians who have not been cheated out of a respectful bow by Mrs B's fraudulent imitation of the royal carriage and outriders. Everyone has heard the story of the man who, when Pitt enquired what could be done to forward his interests, simply requested the Prime Minister to bow to him in public. There was some sense and knowledge of the world in this request; nor was it altogether an unmeaning affectation in Brummell, when, in reply to a nobleman of the highest rank who accused him of inveiling his son into a disreputable gambling transaction, he exclaimed, — 'Really, I did my best for the young man. I once gave him my arm all the way from Whites to Watiers.' The value still set upon modish or noble acquaintance is proved by the pages of the *Morning Post*; where we are informed that Mr. Thompson has just returned from a visit to the Duke of —, or Mr. Jackson entertained a distinguished party (naming the best of the persons *invited*) at his mansion in Portland Place; each of these insertions costing from seven to ten shillings. Sometimes an aspirant kindly incurs the same expense to inform us how he intends to spend the next month or two...
The best things are often most liable to be perverted to the worst purposes; and constant exposure to the assualts of charlatanry is probably part of the price we have to pay for the blessings of education and the freedom of the press. But then comes the question, how, or where is *it* all this to end? For the present, we will rest satisfied with having supplied the materials and suggested it; since our most strenuous efforts to solve the problem have simply brought us to that disagreeable state of the mental faculties in which —

> 'Thinking is out an idle *KNOWLEDGE* waste of thought,
> And nought is everything, and everything is nought.'

Article called 'The Advertising System'.

1862, Apr. 10. Went with Wolff, Hayward, & Kinglake to a séance with Colchester, the American medium, (he has been taken up by Lytton Bulwer) in Somerset St., a rather good looking vulgar uneducated young man. There was nothing impressive about the affair, wh. gave us all the conviction of a legerdemain performance. He certainly contrived to read, more or less, some of the questions wh. were written on bits of paper, folded up & placed in closed envelopes, not sealed. I have little doubt that he opened & glanced at them, by sleight of hand, perhaps substituting others. His accuracy seemed to depend on the **** simplicity of the questions, i.e. his power of catching their sense at a glance. I asked the ghost of Sir James Graham "What will become of the Peelites?" He spelt the name of Graham at once, by raps with an alphabet & he wrote for answer, "I cannot tell what will become of the P-...." & could not make out the word.

For Colchester see the life of Abraham Lincoln or "...and Mr. F."!!!