1823-24. UGO FOSCOLO. 293 the card of my friend Ugo Foscolo, who wished to speak with me on very urgent business. On being informed that I was still in bed, and could not well receive him before noon, he posted off in a violent hurry to our common friend Wallace, from whom I afterwards learned the object of his visit, which was to ask me to be the bearer of a hostile message from him to Gof whom I have before made mention, and of whom I had lost sight for many months. G, to whom he, Foscolo, had given an asylum in his house, and supplied with employment that was a means of livelihood to him, had seduced one of the maidservants of Foscolo, an exceedingly pretty young woman, in whom Foscolo took particular interest. His Italian blood was set on fire by the ungrateful return of his unworthy guest, and he commissioned Wallace to be the bearer of his cartel. The time and conditions of the meeting were arranged between Wallace and G's second; upon which Foscolo stated his determination to Wallace that the combat should be à outrance. Wallace on this distinctly told him that ou such an understanding he could not go to the field with him, that his honour was in his second's hands, and that he must either conform to the usage of English gentlemen on such occasions or find some other friend. Foscolo was of course obliged to submit, and therefore, when on the ground, as he could not gratify his revenge in a more deadly manner, he resorted to the alternative of expressing his supreme contempt for his adversary by receiving his fire without deigning to discharge his own pistol. Upon which Wallace intimated to the other second that he could not allow his friend to remain any longer on the ground, and the parties separated without another word. There would be every reason to believe that Gwas perfectly insensible to the romantic disdain of his high-minded antagonist. A very little time sufficed to bring to a close his reckless and desperate course in London. The forgery of a bill-I believe for £500 on the house of Whitaker and Co.-obliged him to fly from justice, and he soon after was heard of as a passenger on board a packet-ship from Liverpool to New York. Poor Ugo Foscolo! As a scholar, poet, novelist, and critic he enjoyed a European reputation. In his social relations he was most amiable. Born of a noble house in Venice, he had served under Napoleon, and for one season had been the lion of the London aristocracy; but experience has taught us how shortlived is such a distinction, and Foscolo lived to feel the instability of friendships based upon temporary popularity. He died neglected, if not forgotten, in one of the London suburbs. He had his weaknesses and peculiarities-who is exempt from them? Personal vanity was among them. Very plain in his person, it was the exception he made in his admiration of English women, to their endearing qualities, that none of them could be brought to make the declaration, "Je vous aime!” Though ordinarily of a most gentle disposition, he was liable to gusts of temper which were more provocative of laughter than of anger among his familiars. He was a great chessplayer, but the loss of a game was too much for his equability. His customary adversary was an old friend and neighbour, who, knowing his excitability, always took this precaution before making the move which was to give him check-mate: he would shuffle himself half out of his chair, getting ready for a start, and as he moved his piece on the board and muttered " Check-mate," rush out of the room under the neverfailing expectation of hearing the board and its contents, sent by the hands of Foscolo, come rattling after him. 'Jacopo Ortis' was his first work, and that at once established his reputation. He published his tragedy of 'Ricciardetta' in London, where he contributed many articles to the Edinburgh Review. One object in this Drury Lane engagement, and that of especial import, on which the manager speculated, was the association of Kean's magnetic name with my own in a series of plays agreed on between Elliston and myself, viz: 'Venice Preserved,' 'Julius Cæsar,' 'King John,' 'Jane Shore,' &c. From such a coalition Elliston anticipated a long and most productive season. But although he raised Kean's terms on this occasion from £30 per week to £20 per night, in order to remove all possible ground of complaint, Kean remained firm in his resolution not to consent to the proposed combination. He paid me, according to green-room report, the compliment of saying, he "Did not mind Young, but he would not act with Macready." My engagement was in consequence so far a disappointment that it was limited to its specified number of nights, forty,-instead of being extended, as was hoped, 1823-24. THEODORE HOOK. 295 through the greater part of the season. The first division of those nights was satisfactorily concluded; and till the month of April 1824, when the second would commence, and in which the hope was not altogether abandoned that Kean would yield to the representations of the management, my time was to be occupied with provincial engagements. My lodgings were given up, and it was agreed in our little home council that it would be best for my Catherine to continue the prosecution of her studies in the family of a respectable widow lady at Kensington, most highly recommended, until the close of my Drury Lane engagement, which would leave me with sufficient holiday to ensure a honeymoon, and perfect freedom from business to solemnise most happily our long-deferred marriage. I have alluded to the evil influence of a cabal that was set on foot against me by the partisans of the Covent Garden management. From the insidious calumnies, which obtained. wide circulation, I became exposed to the systematic hostility of a great part of the London press, from which I suffered, and against which I had to contend for several years. The originator of the prejudice with which I had to struggle was Mr. Theodore Hook, a man of ready powers of sarcasm, of unblushing effrontery, with a quick sense of the humorous, and if not witty, was possessed of smartness that made a very near approach to wit. On the occasion of my appearance this season at Drury Lane, when all the papers were lavish in their praise, as the editor of the John Bull he reprobated the eulogistic language used towards me, but was willing to give me credit for my humanity in rescuing a child from the fire (Oh! that child!). Unwilling to accept unmerited commendation, I wrote to the editor of the John Bull, disclaiming all pretension to the romantic act ascribed to me, but desirous of avoiding (as I have always been) the intrusion of my name in reference to any personal matter on the public, I marked my letter private. Mr. Hook took advantage of this to state in a subsequent article that I had written to him in perfect agreement with his opinions, expressing my contempt for and disgust at the adulatory notices that my friends had published. I need scarcely say how shocked and pained I was by such a statement, which must make enemies of those who in their indulgent estimation of my performances had hitherto sustained and befriended me. The principle that actuated this gentleman in his dealings with his fellow men is not to be mistaken. Poor Conway allowed himself to be the victim of this man's abuse, and, wanting in strength of mind to endure the sneers and derisive personal attacks with which he was constantly assailed, retired from the stage, which afforded him a respectable income, and which could ill spare the degree of talent he possessed. Things that near to the sight look large become diminished by distance, and matters that have importance in our eyes at the moment sink into insignificance with the lapse of time. I wonder now at my own sensitiveness on occasions like this, but this is the player's weakness; his reputation lives in the opinion of his contemporaries, and it is with feverish jealousy that he watches the rise and fall of public favour. In my own case there was an injury craftily, and to a certain point successfully, inflicted; for it was only natural that men of education, as the contributors to the English press are known to be, should feel indignant at what must seem my insolence and ingratitude. This statement, set abroad together with some false and libellous assertions of my ill-treatment of dramatic authors, which, written, as I have good reason to believe, by a London clergyman, appeared sometime after in Blackwood's Magazine, excited against me, as might be expected, a hostile spirit, which only years of patient and persevering effort enabled me to live down. Leaving most reluctantly my future bride in her strange temporary abode at Kensington, I set out with my sister about the middle of December on my provincial tour. Our course was to Exeter, Plymouth, and Bristol, from whence with a rich harvest we proceeded to Dublin; here was a long engagement before me, which the repetitions of Virginius,' and the frequent performances of Cassius in 'Julius Cæsar,' made a very attractive one. Belfast was my next resort, and in returning through Dublin Mr. Harris detained me for one more representation of Cassius by the douceur of £50. Our route lay onward to Manchester, Blackburn, Halifax, Glasgow Hull, York, Newcastle-on-Tyne, Sunderland, Stamford, each of which places contributed liberal additions to my banker's 1823-24. PURCHASE OF THE GRANBY HOTEL. 297 account, and on the 10th of April we were again in London, where the remaining nights of my engagement with Elliston were to be played out. Our lodgings were taken in Mornington Place, then a suburban row of houses looking over the fields towards Highgate. In looking out for investments for my little savings I was persuaded by George Robins, the famous auctioneer, to bid for a property then advertised by him for sale, the Granby Hotel at Harrogate, a large establishment, with offices complete, and land and plantation attached to it. He recommended the purchase for £6000, though I had not much more than half that amount to dispose of. The rest was left on mortgage, and would have been a very profitable investment if I had had a solicitor faithful to my interests: as it was it turned out rather an indifferent speculation. Some of the newspapers diverted themselves and their readers with the poor joke of my "going to the bar," as the owner of a great hotel! Kean persisting in his refusal to appear in the plays with me, the repetition of the parts I had before acted, with the performance of the Duke in Measure for Measure' (a character in which dignity of demeanour and lofty declamation are the chief requisites), brought me to the end of my engagement on the 23rd of June, 1824, in the part of Cardinal Wolsey. On leaving the stage I hurried on my clothes and drove rapidly home, to prepare for an early rising on the following morning. My term of penance and that of my Catherine's probation and exemplary patience were happily accomplished, and the morrow was to establish her as the future mistress of my home. The following letter from the excellent Archdeacon of London met me on my return from the theatre: "June 23rd. "MY DEAR SIR,-I shall not fail to be in readiness for you at a quarter past eight, and rejoice much to be connected with an event which I trust will be followed by every blessing which your kindest friends can wish, among whose number pray include, "Yours faithfully, "J. W. POTT." In justice to the beloved memory of her whose affection and amiability shed happiness over so many years of my life, and not less to the sage counsel of my dear sister's friendship, I |