Imagining that sea-bathing was good for a disease of the intestines, with which he was afflicted, he erected a little hut on the beach at Hythe, about three miles from his own house, to enjoy its advantages. In this regimen, it is, however, probable, that he indulged to excess, as he frequently remained in the water until he fainted. In his excursions to this place, he was accustomed to walk, and was generally accompanied by a carriage, and a favourite servant, who got up behind when he was tired. Mr. Robinson, with his hat under his arm, proceeded slowly on foot towards Hythe, and if it happened to rain, he would order his attendants to get into the carriage, observing, "that they were gaudily dressed, and not inured to wet, and might therefore spoil their clothes, and occasion an illness." Finding the distance too great to walk without fatigue, he afterwards constructed a bath contiguous to his house, which was so contrived, as to be rendered tepid by the rays of the sun only. The frequency of his ablutions was astonishing; his constitution was at length accustomed to the practice, and was materially improved by these repeated purifications.

A gentleman who happened to be in the neighbourhood of Mountmorris, resolved to procure a sight of this extraordinary character, who had then succeeded to the title of Lord Rokeby. "On my way," says he, "at the summit of the hill above Hythe, which affords a most delightful prospect, I perceived a fountain of pure water, overrunning a basin which had been placed for it by his lordship. I was informed, that there were many such on the same road, and that he was accustomed to bestow a few half-crown pieces, plenty of which he always kept loose in a side-pocket, on any water-drinkers he might happen to find partaking of his favourite beverage, which he never failed to recommend with peculiar force and persuasion. On my approach, I stopped some time to examine the mansion. It is a good plain gentleman's seat; the grounds were abundantly stocked with black cattle, and I could perceive a horse or two on the steps of the principal entrance. After the necessary inquiries, I was conducted by a servant to a little grove, on entering which, a building with a glass covering that at first sight appeared to be a green-house, presented itself. The man who accompanied me opened a little wicket, and on looking in, I perceived, immediately under the glass, a bath with a current of water, supplied from a pond behind. On approaching the door, two handsome spaniels, with long ears, apparently of King Charles's breed, advanced, and like faithful guardians, denied us access, till soothed by the well-known accents of the domestic. We then proceeded, and gently passing along a wooden floor, saw his lordship stretched on his face at the farther end. He had just come out of the water, and was dressed in an old blue woollen coat, and pantaloons of the same colour. The upper part of his head was bald, but his hair on his chin, which could not be concealed even by the posture he

had assumed, made its appearance between his arms on each side. I immediately retired, and waited at a little distance until he arose; when rising, he opened the door, darted through the thicket, accompanied by his dogs, and made directly for the house, while some workmen employed in cutting timber, and whose tongues only I had heard before, now made the woods resound again with their axes.

Various oddities were likewise discoverable in his dress, which was always plain, and even mean; nor can it be denied, that the hair with which the lower part of his face was so well furnished, gave something of a squalid appearance to his whole person. His manners approached to a primitive simplicity, and though perfectly polite, he seemed in every thing to study singularity. He spoke and acted in a manner peculiar to himself, at the same time treating those around him with frankness and liberality. His diet consisted chiefly of beef-tea; wine and spirituous liquors he held in abhorrence. He, indeed, discouraged the consumption of exotics of every description, from an idea that the productions of our own island are competent to the support of its inhabitants. Beef, over which boiling water had been poured, and eaten off a wooden platter, was a favourite dish, on which he frequently regaled. He would not touch tea or coffee; for sugar he substituted honey, as he always cherished a strong attachment to sweet things. He abhorred fire, and delighted much in the enjoyment of the air, without any other canopy than the heavens, and in winter his windows were generally open. In his youth he was much attached to the fair sex, and even in his old age he is said to have been a great admirer of female beauty.

The manner in which he conducted, for it cannot with propriety be said, cultivated, his paternal estate, was another singular trait in the character of his lordship. The woods and parks which surrounded his mansion were suffered to vegetate in wild luxuriance. Nature was not, in any respect, checked by art, and the animals of every class enjoyed the same state of perfect freedom, and were seen bounding through his pastures with uncommon spirit and energy. His singularities caused many ridiculous stories to be circulated concerning him, and among others, that he would not suffer any of his tenants to sow barley, because that grain might be converted into malt, which would pay a tax, and thus assist in carrying on a war, which he conceived to be unjust. This alluded to the late war with France; how far it might be true we know not, but it seems to savour of that consistency which he so strictly maintained in other particulars. On the 10th of October, 1794, Mr. Robinson succeeded to the title of Lord Rokeby, on the death of his uncle, Richard Robinson, archbishop of Armagh, and primate of Ireland. This accession of honour, however, produced no alteration in his sentiments or mode of life; he continued to be the same plain, honest man, a character on which he justly prided himself.

With respect to politics, his conduct through life was eminently consistent, it was principles, and not men that he regarded.

At the general election in 1796, he crossed the country to Lenham, and stopping at the Checquers Inn, he was there surrounded by the country people from all the adjacent parts, who took him for a Turk. From that place he proceeded to the poll-booth, and gave his vote for his old friend, Filmer Honeywood.

Prince William of Gloucester soon afterwards passing through Canterbury, felt a strong inclination to pay his lordship a visit; which being mentioned at Mountmorris, Lord Rokeby very politely sent the prince an invitation to dinner. On this occasion, he presided at a plentiful board, and displayed all the hospitality of an old English baron. Three courses were served up in a splendid style to his royal highness and his suite, and the repast concluded with a variety of excellent wines, and in particular, Tokay, which had been in the cellar half a century. But his lordship was hospitable on all occasions, and made no distinction in civility of deportment towards his visitors:

Regardless of the folly fame,

And courteous with no private aim;
Within his doors you'd welcome find,
If not the costly, yet the kind.

At an age when most men think only of themselves, Lord Rokeby proved that he was not inattentive to what he considered the dearest interests of his country. In 1797, he published an excellent pamphlet, entitled, “An Address to the County of Kent, on their petition for removing from the councils of his Majesty his present ministers, and for adopting proper means to procure a speedy and a happy peace; together with a postscript concerning the treaty between the Emperor of Germany and France, and concerning our domestic situation in time to come." His reply to a letter addressed to him by Lord Castlereagh, was likewise a production that would have done honour to a man who had not passed his grand climacteric. The family of Lord Rokeby has, indeed, been distinguished for a literary turn. It was a relative of his who wrote the celebrated treatise on gavelkind. His eldest sister, the late Mrs. Montague, defended the memory and genius of Shakspeare against Voltaire; the younger, Mrs. Scott, wrote several novels, which obtained considerable reputation; and his nephew, Matthew Montague, is not unknown in the world of letters.

From what has been already said, it appears that, independent of his beard, Lord Rokeby was a very singular character. He lived a considerable portion of his life in water, tempered by the rays of the sun, and travelled on foot at an age when people of his rank and fortune always indulge in a carriage. In the midst of a luxurious age he was abstemious both in eating and drinking, and attained to length of life without having recourse to the

aid of medicine, and indeed with an utter contempt for the practitioners of physic. This he carried to such a length, that on one occasion being seized with a sudden illness, it is related, that when a paroxysm was expected to come on, his lordship told his nephew that if he stayed with him he was welcome; but if, out of a false humanity, he should call in medical assistance, and it should accidentally happen that he was not killed by the doctor, he hoped he should have sufficient use of his hands and senses left to make a new will, and to disinherit him.

With all his eccentricities, however, Lord Rokeby possessed virtues by which his defects were abundantly overbalanced, and among these not the least distinguished excellence, was his ardent and unabated love of freedom. Inimical to measures which, in his opinion, encroached on the liberties of mankind, he never ceased to raise his voice against every species of oppression. Independent in his own views and manners, he spoke his mind freely on all occasions, and uniformly studied, though in his own peculiar way, the welfare and prosperity of his country.

HIS man flourished in the reign of Charles the Second, and, according to all accounts, was the finest specimen of the human form then in England. He was admired alike for the symmetry and elegance of his figure, and for his strength and agility. In the exercise of his art he exhibited the powers of a Hercules, while in his person were displayed all the charms of an Adonis.

Hall is said to have rivalled his sovereign in the affections of the famous Duchess of Cleveland, from whom he received a regular salary. The wits of the time made most of this tender liaison, and many a song and lampoon, of which it was the fruitful subject, redounded much more to the honour of the rope-dancer than to that of her grace. But such things were common in that profligate reign, and the reader will not be surprised to learn, that notwithstanding the notoriety of this intercourse between Hall and the royal favourite, his majesty was so blind to her faults, that to him at least she only appeared still more handsome. Pope has some caustic lines in allusion to this subject in his "Sober Advice from Horace."

To enter into further details respecting the subject of this notice, would only be to write a very bitter satire upon royalty, since the narrative must necessarily comprehend many well-known particulars relative to Charles's licentious court, which, for the honour of human nature, should be buried in oblivion. We therefore, without further ceremony, dismiss Jacob Hall.