are, will give us a glimpse of the where and the how our hero sat at the theatre, "In foremost row before the astonish'd pit; In brawn Oldmixon's rival as in wit; And grin dislike, And kiss the spike; And giggle, And wriggle; And fiddle, And diddle," &c. &c. But Churchill returned to his front row, "by Arthur "undismayed;" and still formidable was his broad burly face when seen from the stage behind that spike of the orchestra. "In this place he thought he could best "discern the real workings of the passions in the actors, "or what they substituted in the stead of them," says Davies, who had good reason to know the place. There is an affecting letter of his in the Garrick Correspondence, deprecating the manager's wrath. "During the run of 66 Cymbeline," he says (and of course, his line being the heavy business, he had to bear the burden of royalty in that play), "I had the misfortune to disconcert you "in one scene for which I did immediately beg your "pardon, and did attribute it to my accidentally seeing "Mr. Churchill in the pit, with great truth; it rendering "me confused and unmindful of my business." Garrick might have been more tolerant of poor Davies, recollecting that on a recent occasion even the royal robes of Richard had not wrapt himself from the consciousness of that ominous figure in the pit; and that he had grievingly written to Colman of his sense of the arch-critic's too apparent discontent." Thus, then, had Churchill, in little more than two months, sprung into a notoriety of a very remarkable, perhaps not of a very enviable kind, made up of admi 1 "My love to Churchill; his being "sick of Richard was perceived about "the house."-Garrick to George Colman. ration and alarm. What other satirists had desired to shrink from, he seemed eager to brave; and the man, not less than the poet, challenged with an air of defiance the talk of the town. Pope had a tall Irishman to attend him after he published the Dunciad, but Churchill was tall enough to attend himself. One of Pope's victims, by way of delicate reminder, hung up a birch rod at Button's; but Churchill's victims might see their satirist any day walking Covent-garden unconcernedly, provided by himself with a bludgeon. What excuse may be suggested for this personal bravado will be drawn from the incidents of his early life. If these had been more auspicious, the straightforward manliness of his natural character would more steadily have sustained him to the last. As it was, even that noblest quality did him a disservice, being in no light degree responsible for his violent extremes. The restraint he had so long submitted to, once thrown aside, and the compromise ended, he thought he could not too plainly exhibit his new existence to the world. He had declared war against hypocrisy in all stations, and in his own would set it no example. The pulpit had starved him on forty pounds a-year; the public had given him a thousand pounds in two months; and he proclaimed himself, with little regard to the decencies in doing it, better satisfied with the last service than with the first. This was carrying a hatred of hypocrisy beyond the verge of prudence-indulging it indeed, with the satire it found vent in, to the very borders of licentiousness. He stripped off his clerical dress by way of parting with his last disguise, and appeared in a blue coat with metal buttons, a gold-laced waistcoat, a gold-laced hat, and ruffles.' Dean Zachary Pearce, afterwards Bishop of Rochester, remonstrated with him. He replied that he was not conscious of deserving censure. The dean thereupon observed, that the habit of frequenting play-houses was unfitting, and that the Rosciad was indecorous; to which he rejoined, that so were some of the classics which the dean had translated. The "dull dean's " third remonstrance as to dress met with the same fate; and it was not until the St. John's parishioners themselves took the matter in hand, a few months later, that Churchill resigned the lectureship of that parish. It was just that they should determine it, he said; and the most severe assailant of his turbulent life would hardly charge him with indifference at any time to what he really believed to be just. The date of his good fortune, and that of the comfort of his before struggling family, his "brother John "and sister Patty," were the same. The complainings of his wife were ended when his own poverty was ended, by the generous allowance he set aside for her support. Every man of whom he had borrowed was paid with interest; and the creditors, whose compromise had left them without a legal claim upon him, received, to their glad amazement, the remaining fifteen shillings in the pound. "In the instance," says Dr. Kippis, "which fell under my "knowledge as an executor and guardian, Mr. Churchill voluntarily came to us and paid the full amount of the "original debt." 66 It was not possible with such a man as this, that any mad dissipation or indulgence, however countenanced by the uses of the time, could wear away his sense of its unworthiness, or entirely silence remorse and self. reproach. Nor is it clear that Churchill's heart was ever half so much with the scenes of gaiety into which he is now said to have recklessly entered, as with the friend by whose side he entered them. It is indeed mournfully confessed, in the opening of the Epistle to that friend which was his third effort in poetry, that it was to heal or hide their care they frequently met; that not to defy but VOL. II. M to escape the world, was too often their desire; and that the reason was at all times but too strong with each of them, to seek in the other's society a refuge from himself. This Epistle, addressed to Lloyd, and published in October 1761, was forced from him by the public imputations, now become frequent and fierce, against the moral character of them both. Armstrong, in a poetical epistle to his friend "gay Wilkes," had joined with these detractors; and his Day suggested Churchill's Night. It ridiculed the judgments of the world, and defied its censure; which had the power to call bad names, it said, but not to create bad qualities in those who are content to brave such judgments. It had some nervous lines, many manly thoughts, and not a little questionable philosophy; but it proved to be chiefly remarkable for indicating the new direction of Churchill's satire. There had been rumours of his having intended a demolition of a number of minor actors hitherto unassailed, in a Smithfield Rosciad; and to a poor man's pitiable depreciation of such needless severity, he had deigned a sort of surly indignation at the rumour, but no distinct denial. It was now obvious that he contemplated other actors, and a very different theatre. Pitt had been driven to his resignation in the preceding month; " and," cried Churchill here, amid other earnest praise of that darling of the people, "What honest man but would with joy submit, "Gay Wilkes" at once betook himself to the popular poet. Though Armstrong's Epistle had been addressed to him, he declared that he had no sympathy with it whatever; and he was sure that Armstrong himself, then abroad, had never designed it for publication. Other questions and assurances followed; and so began the friendship which only death ended. Wilkes had little strength or sincerity of feeling of any kind; but there is no doubt that all he had was given to Churchill, and that he was repaid with an affection as hearty, brotherly, and true, as ever man inspired. 66 66 All men of all parties who knew John Wilkes at the outset of his extraordinary career, are in agreement as to the fascination of his manners. It was particularly the admission of those whom he had assailed most bitterly. "Mr. Wilkes," said Lord Mansfield, "was the pleasantest companion, the politest gentleman, and the best "scholar, I ever knew." "His name," said Dr. Johnson, "has been sounded from pole to pole as the phoenix of convivial felicity." More naturally he added: "Jack has a great variety of talk; Jack is a scholar; "and Jack has the manners of a gentleman." And every one will remember his characteristic letter to Mrs. Thrale: "I have been breaking jokes with Jack Wilkes upon the Scotch. Such, madam, are the vicissitudes. "of things." There is little wonder that he who could control vicissitudes of this magnitude, should so quickly have controlled the liking of Churchill. He was the poet's elder by four years; his tastes and self-indulgences were the same; he had a character for public morality (for those were the days of wide separation between public and private morality) as yet unimpeached; and when they looked out into public life, and spoke of political affairs, they could discover no point of disagreement. A curious crisis had arrived. Nearly forty years were passed since Voltaire, then a resident in London, had been assured by a great many persons whom he met, that the Duke of Marlborough was a coward, and Mr. Pope a fool. Party went to sleep soon after, but had now reawakened to a not less violent extreme. The last shadow of grave opposition to the House of Hanover vanished with the accession of George III in 1760; and there was evil as well as good in the repose. With the final planting of the principle of freedom implied in the quiet succession of that House, men grew anxious to reap its fruit, and saw it nowhere |