217—to William Harness
8, St. James's Street, Dec. 15, 1811.
I wrote you an answer to your last, which, on reflection, pleases me as little as it probably has pleased yourself. I will not wait for your rejoinder; but proceed to tell you, that I had just then been greeted with an epistle of ——'s, full of his petty grievances, and this at the moment when (from circumstances it is not necessary to enter upon) I was bearing up against recollections to which
his
imaginary sufferings are as a scratch to a cancer. These things combined, put me out of humour with him and all mankind. The latter part of my life has been a perpetual struggle against affections which embittered the earliest portion; and though I flatter myself I have in a great measure conquered them, yet there are moments (and this was one) when I am as foolish as formerly. I never said so much before, nor had I said this now, if I did not suspect myself of having been rather savage in my letter, and wish to inform you this much of the cause. You know I am not one of your dolorous gentlemen: so now let us laugh again.
Yesterday
I went with Moore to Sydenham to visit Campbell
. He was not visible, so we jogged homeward merrily enough. To-morrow I dine with Rogers, and am to hear Coleridge, who is a kind of rage at present.
Last
night I saw Kemble in
Coriolanus
; —he
was glorious
, and exerted himself wonderfully. By good luck I got an excellent place in the best part of the house, which was more than overflowing. Clare
and
Delawarr
, who were there on the same speculation, were less fortunate. I saw them by accident,—we were not together. I wished for you, to gratify your love of Shakspeare and of fine acting to its fullest extent. Last week I saw an exhibition of a different kind in a
Mr
. Coates
, at the Haymarket, who performed Lothario in a
damned
and damnable manner.
I told you the fate of B[land] and H[odgson] in my last. So much for these sentimentalists, who console themselves in their stews for the loss—the never to be recovered loss—the despair of the refined attachment of a couple of drabs! You censure
my
life, Harness,—when I compare myself with these men, my elders and my betters, I really begin to conceive myself a monument of prudence —a walking statue—without feeling or failing; and yet the world in general hath given me a proud pre-eminence over them in profligacy. Yet I like the men, and, God knows, ought not to condemn their aberrations. But I own I feel provoked when they dignify all this by the name of
love
—romantic attachments for things marketable for a dollar!
Dec. 16th.—I have just received your letter;—I feel your kindness very deeply. The foregoing part of my letter, written yesterday, will, I hope, account for the tone of the former, though it cannot excuse it. I do
like
to hear from you—more than
like
. Next to seeing you, I have no greater satisfaction. But you have other duties, and greater pleasures, and I should regret to take a moment from either. H——was to call to-day, but I have not seen him. The circumstances you mention at the close of your letter is another proof in favour of my opinion of mankind. Such you will always find them— selfish and distrustful. I except none. The cause of this is the state of society. In the world, every one is to stir for himself—it is useless, perhaps selfish, to expect any thing from his neighbour. But I do not think we are born of this disposition; for you find
friendship
as a schoolboy, and
love
enough before twenty.
I went to see ——; he keeps me in town, where I don't wish to be at present. He is a good man, but totally without conduct. And now, my dearest William, I must wish you good morrow, and remain ever,
Most sincerely and affectionately yours, etc.
Footnote 1:
Campbell lived at Sydenham from 1804 to 1820. Moore (
Life
, p. 148) adds the following note:
"On this occasion, another of the noble poet's peculiarities was, somewhat startlingly, introduced to my notice. When we were on the point of setting out from his lodgings in St. James's Street, it being then about midday, he said to the servant, who was shutting the door of the vis-a-vis, 'Have you put in the pistols?' and was answered in the affirmative. It was difficult,—more especially taking into account the circumstances under which we had just become acquainted,— to keep from smiling at this singular noonday precaution."
Footnote 2:
On December 14, 1811, at Covent Garden, Kemble acted "Coriolanus" with Mrs. Siddons as "Volumnia." It was Kemble's great part, and in it he made his last appearance on the stage (June 23, 1817).
Footnote 3:
For Lord Clare, see
Letters
, vol. i. p. 116,
note
1. [Footnote 1 of Letter 65]
Footnote 4:
For Lord Delawarr, see
Letters
, vol. i. p. 41, note 1 [Footnote 5 of Letter 13].
Footnote 5:
Robert Coates, "the Amateur of Fashion," known as "Romeo" Coates, sometimes as "Diamond" Coates, sometimes as "Cock-a-doodle-doo" Coates (1772-1848), was the only surviving son of a wealthy West Indian planter. He made his first appearance on the stage at Bath (February 9, 1810), as "Romeo." In the play-bill he was announced as "a Gentleman, 1st Appearance on any stage." Genest (
English Stage
, vol. viii. p. 207) says,
"Many gentlemen have been weak enough to fancy themselves actors, but no one ever persevered in obtruding himself for so long a time on the notice of the public in spite of laughter, hissing, etc."
On December 9, 1811, he appeared at the Haymarket as "Lothario" in Rowe's
Fair Penitent
. Mathews, at Covent Garden, imitated his performance, in Bate Dudley's
At Home
, as "Mr. Romeo Rantall," appearing in the
"pink silk vest and cloak, white satin breeches and stockings, Spanish hat, with a rich high plume of ostrich feathers,"
in which Coates had played "Lothario".
Memoirs of Charles Mathews
, vol. ii. pp. 238, 239).
