Part 16 (2/2)

Pope was one evening at button's Coffee-house, where he and a set of literati had got poring over a Latin e that none of the officer, who heard their conference, begged that he e ”Oh,” said Pope, sarcastically, ”by all entleman look at it” Upon which the officer took up theit awhile, said there only wanted a note of interrogation to ible: which was really the case ”And pray, Master,” says Pope with a sneer, ”what is a _note of interrogation_?”--”A note of interrogation,” replied the young felloith a look of great conte_ that asks questions”

DRYDEN DRUBBED

”Dryden,” says Leigh Hunt, ”is identified with the neighbourhood of Covent Garden He presided in the chair at Russell Street (Will's Coffee-house); his plays came out in the theatre at the other end of it; he lived in Gerrard Street, which is not far off; and, alas for the anti-climax! he was beaten by hired bravos in Rose Street, now called Rose Alley The outrage perpetrated upon the sacred shoulders of the poet was the work of Lord Rochester, and originated in a reat man and dastardly debauchee” Dryden, it see the author of the _Essay on Satire_, in which Lord Rochester was severely dealt with, and which was, in reality, written by Lord Mulgrave, afterwards the Duke of Buckinghamshi+re Rochester e, and thus coolly expressed his intent in one of his letters: ”You write me word that I am out of favour with a certain poet, whom I have admired for the disproportion of him and his attributes He is a rarity which I cannot but be fond of, as one would be of a hog that could fiddle, or a singing owl If he falls on ood weapon in wit, I will forgive him if you please, _and leave the repartee to Black Will with a cudgel_” ”In pursuance of this infaht of the 18th December 1679, Dryden aylaid by hired ruffians, and severely beaten, as he passed through Rose Street, Covent Garden, returning from Will's Coffee-house to his own house in Gerrard Street A reward of fifty pounds was in vain offered in the _London Gazette_ and other newspapers, for the discovery of the perpetrators of this outrage The toas, however, at no loss to pitch upon Rochester as the employer of the bravos; hom the public suspicion joined the duchess of Portsed It will certainly be admitted that a man, surprised in the dark, and beaten by ruffians, loses no honour by such a misfortune But if Dryden had received the sa it, his drubbing could not have been n, surely, of the penury of subjects for satire in his life and character, since an accident, which reatest hero that ever lived, was resorted to as an imputation on his character”

ROGERS AND ”JUNIUS”

Saers was requested by Lady Holland to ask Sir Philip Francis whether he was the author of _Junius' Letters_ The poet,Sir Philip, approached the ticklish subject thus: ”Will you, Sir Philip--will your kindness excuse le question?” ”At your peril, Sir!” was the harsh and curt reply of the knight The intierly inquired of hiers said, ”whether he is Junius; but, if he be, he is certainly Junius _Brutus_”

ALFIERI'S HAIR

Alfieri, the greatest poet hted in eccentricities, not always of the , at the house of the Princess Carignan, he was leaning, in one of his silent ainst a sideboard decorated with a rich tea service of china, when, by a suddenloose tresses, he thren one of the cups The lady of the mansion ventured to tell him, that he had spoiled the set, and had better have broken them all The words were no sooner said, than Alfieri, without reply or change of countenance, swept off the whole service upon the floor His hair was fated to bring another of his eccentricities into play He went one night, alone, to the theatre at Turin; and there, hanging carelessly with his head backwards over the corner of the box, a lady in the next seat on the other side of the partition, who had on other occasions made attempts to attract his attention, broke out into violent and repeated enco down close to her hand Alfieri, however, spoke not a word, and continued his position till he left the theatre

Next , the lady received a parcel, the contents of which she found to be the tresses which she had so much admired, and which the erratic poet had cut off close to his head No billet accoift; but it could not have been more clearly said, ”If you like the hair, here it is; but, for Heaven's sake, leave _me_ alone!”

SMOLLETT'S HARD FORTUNES

Smollett, perhaps one of the most popular authors by profession that ever wrote, furnishes a sad instance of the insufficiency of even the greatest literary favour, in the times in which he wrote, to procure those temporal comforts on which the happiness of life so much depends

”Had some of those,” he says, ”ere pleased to call themselves my friends, been at any pains to deserve the character, and told enuously what I had to expect in the capacity of an author, when first I professed myself of that venerable fraternity, I should in all probability have spared one” ”Of praise and censure both,” he writes at another time, ”I am sick indeed, and wish to God that n my pen to oblivion” When he had worn himself down in the service of the public or the booksellers, there scarce was left of all his slender reh to convey hi air on the Continent

Gradually perishi+ng in a foreign land, neglected by the public that ad no resources froe profits of his works, Ss in the character of Braenerosity of his te to fleet aith his breath

And when he died, and his , in a foreign land, was raising a plain memorial over his ashes, her love and piety but made the little less; and she perished in unbefriended solitude ”There are indeed,” says D'Israeli, ”grateful feelings in the public at large for a favourite author; but the awful testiradual process, rave! They visit the column consecrated by his name--and his features are most loved, most venerated, in the bust!”

JERROLD'S REBUKE TO A RUDE INTRUDER

Douglas Jerrold and so once at a tavern, and had a private room; but after dinner the landlord, on the plea that the house was partly under repair, requested perht take a chop in the apartave the required perer, a ht in, ate his chop in silence, and then fell asleep--snoring so loudly and discordantly that the conversation could with difficulty be prosecuted Soer, starting out of his nap, called out to Jerrold, ”I know you, Mr Jerrold, I know you; but you shall not 's head in here!” was the instant answer of the wit