Now! Then! Writing from Halifax, the comedian Charles Mathews longs for Leeds

9 January 1827: Writing from Halifax, the comedian Charles Mathews longs for Leeds

Anne Mathews Jackson. 1839. Memoirs of Charles Mathews, Comedian, Vol. 3. London: Richard Bentley. Get it:

Excerpt

“From Hull, Hell, and Halifax [Good Lord deliver us!]” – the saying is somewhat musty, but it must have been of very ancient date if the former was not superior to the latter at the time. In the first place, I left a comfortable house, with the best bed and bedroom I have seen in Yorkshire; and such a doting host I have not to my back! He can remind me of everything I ever said to him in my life; and the only decorations of my bedroom were varieties of framed portraits of myself. Well, such a day! – “all hail!” such blowing, such expectations of being blown over! I was obliged to post 18 miles from Leeds. You travelled the road in 1804, when you cried for fear lest dear little Charley would be killed by the jolting. I was stuffing my pocket handkerchief into the apertures of the broken glass of the chaise windows half the way. I had the beautiful anticipation of someone in brief authority preventing the performance on account of the death of the Duke of York. Got here in three hours and a half! There’s posting! I found Paddy Manly in doubt as to our acting, “the nobs,” as he called them, inquiring if I could not postpone my performance. I said, “No; if I cannot perform tonight, I will be off to London by the first coach.” Indeed I would have popped off directly the morning paper arrived if I had not been under promise, for the miserable weather was enough to torture me without threats of shutting up theatres, and so we acted. There was £56, and if many had not given up their places out of squeamishness we should have had £80, it is supposed. Such a town! – such an inn! – such a mucky yard! with ostlers, chaises, ducks, pigeons, starved cats, drowned kittens! Oh! à propos, vide “stout gentleman” – exactly! only hail, and sometimes snow, for his rain. By the time you receive this, it will be all over; therefore laugh, and reflect that then I shall nearly be in clover again, at Smith’s; for there is real comfort.

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To facilitate reading, the spelling and punctuation of elderly excerpts have generally been modernised, and distracting excision scars concealed. My selections, translations, and editions are copyright.

Abbreviations

Comment

Malcolm Bull has a handy guide to “From Hull, Hell and Halifax, Good Lord deliver us!” dating back to the early 17th century writings of John Taylor, “The Water Poet” (Bull 2017).

Did the poet Martin Bell ever go to Halifax?

Hell, dear sir, is what I say it is.
Hell is you, my friend, when I am in that mood.
Why, Leeds is Hell, nor am I out of it.
Why, I am Hell, nor is Leeds out of it.
(Bell 1988)

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Original

TO MRS. MATHEWS.

Halifax, January 9th, 1827.

“From Hull, Hell, and Halifax” – the saying is somewhat musty, but it must have been of very ancient date if the former was not superior to the latter at the time. O dear! if I could not have cheated myself like Johnny Winter with, “Well, there’s one comfort – in two days more I shall be within three days of going home,” I should certainly have sunk under the accumulation of horrors, as I may call them, of yesterday.

In the first place, I left a comfortable house, with the best bed and bedroom I have seen in Yorkshire; and such a doting host I have not to my back! He can remind me of everything I ever said to him in my life; and the only decorations of my bedroom were varieties of framed portraits of myself. Well, such a day! – “all hail!” such blowing, such expectations of being blown over! I was obliged to post eighteen miles from Leeds. You travelled the road in 1804, when you cried for fear lest dear little Charley would be killed by the jolting. I was stuffing my pocket-handkerchief into the apertures of the broken glass of the chaise-windows half the way. I had the beautiful anticipation of some one in brief authority preventing the performance on account of the death of the Duke. Got here in three hours and a half! There’s posting!

I found Paddy Manly in doubt as to our acting; “the nobs,” as he called them, inquiring if I could not postpone my performance. I said, “No; if I cannot perform to-night, I will be off to London by the first coach.” Indeed I would have popped off directly the morning paper arrived if I had not been under promise; for the miserable weather was enough to torture me without threats of shutting up theatres; and so we acted. There was 56l. and if many had not given up their places out of squeamishness, (several, unfortunately, were military, and they could not be expected to go,) we should have had 80l. it is supposed.

Such a town! – such an inn! – such a mucky yard! with ostlers, chaises, ducks, pigeons, starved cats, drowned kittens! Oh! à propos, vide “stout gentleman” — exactly! only hail, and sometimes snow, for his rain.

By the time you receive this, it will be all over; therefore laugh, and reflect that then I shall nearly be in clover again, at Smith’s; for there is real comfort.[Mr. J. P. Smith, a merchant of Leeds, and a very kind and valued friend of my husband at all times.-A. M.]

C. MATHEWS.

470 words.