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In the year 175--](it is not possible to fix the date more precisely), there was what would now be called a public assault of arms at one of the great hotels of pre-revolutionary Paris. Among the amateurs who took part in it--for there were amateurs as well as professionals--was a foreign protégé of the Duke de Nivernais, that amiable and courteous nobleman who subsequently visited this country at the close of the Seven Years' War, in the character of Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary from his Most Christian Majesty, Louis XV. The stranger, who was in the prime of life, was of graceful figure and address, and his name had been no sooner announced than an English lady, then visiting the French capital, and possessed of great vivacity and considerable personal attractions, stepped forward and presented him with a bunch of roses. He received it with becoming gallantry, fastened it carefully on his left breast, and forthwith declared that he would defend it against all comers. What is more, he kept his promise. He afterwards 'fenced with several of the first masters, not one of whom,' says the narrator of the story, 'could disturb a single leaf of the bouquet.' The lady was the celebrated Mrs. Margaret Woffington, then in the height of her fame as a beauty and an actress; the gentleman was an Italian, travelling for his pleasure. He was the son of a well-to-do merchant at Leghorn, and he was called Domenico Angelo Malevolti Tremamondo.

Shortly after the foregoing incident, Signor Domenico Angelo Malevolti Tremamondo ('I love'--says Goldsmith of Miss Carolina Wilelmina Amelia Skeggs--'to give the whole name!') transported his foil and his good looks to this country. In addition to his proficiency as a fencer, he was 'a master of equitation,' having been a pupil of the then famous scientific horseman, Teillagory^[12] the elder. These were accomplishments which speedily procured for him both popularity and patrons in London. He became in a few months écuyer to Henry Herbert, tenth Earl of Pembroke, who was not only an accomplished cavalier himself, but was then, or was soon to be, lieutenant-colonel of Elliot's Light Horse, a crack dragoon regiment, which, by the way, numbered among its corporals the future Astley of the Westminster Bridge Road Amphitheatre. Lord Pembroke had private manèges both in the neighbourhood of his house in Whitehall Gardens (part of the present No. 7), and at his family seat of Wilton, near Salisbury. At first his écuyer confined himself to teaching riding; but a chance encounter at the Thatched House Tavern with Dr. Keys, a well-known Irish fencer, in which he vanquished his antagonist, determined his choice of the calling of a maître d'armes. His first pupil was the Duke of Devonshire. Later he was engaged by the Princess of Wales to instruct the young princes in horsemanship and the use of the small sword, for which purposes premises were provided in Leicester Fields, within two doors from Hogarth's dwelling in the east corner. Before many years were over, Domenico Angelo--for he seems to have discarded first one and then the other of his last two names--set up a riding school of his own in Soho. But previously to all this, and apparently not long after his arrival in London, he had fallen in love with, and taken to wife, the daughter of an English naval officer. Judging from the picture of her which Reynolds painted in 1766, the bride (who was a minor) must have been as handsome as her husband. The marriage took place in February, 1755, at St. George's, Hanover Square, the register of which duly records the union, by license of the Archbishop of Canterbury, of Domenico Angelo Malevolti, Esq., bachelor, and Elizabeth Johnson, spinster. The pair had a son, the Henry Angelo from whose disorganised and gossiping 'Reminiscences'^[13] most of the foregoing particulars are derived.

Harry Angelo, so he was called, is not explicit as to the date of his birth, which probably took place at the end of 1759 or the beginning of 1760. It seems at first to have been intended that he should enter the Navy; and, as a matter of fact, he was actually enrolled by Captain Augustus Hervey (Lady Hervey's second son) on the books of the 'Dragon' man-of-war in the capacity of midshipman; thereby becoming entitled, at an extremely tender age, to some twenty-five guineas prize money. After a short period under Dr. Rose of Chiswick, the translator of Sallust and editor of 'The Monthly Review,' he went to Eton, where his father taught fencing; and at Eton he remained for some years. Two of his school-fellows were Nathan and Carrington Garrick, the actor's nephews; and young Angelo had pleasant memories of their uncle's visits to Eton, where, being a friend of the elder Angelo, he would regale all three boys sumptuously at the Christopher inn, and amuse them with quips and recitations.^[14] Harry Angelo had even the good fortune, while at Eton, to be taken to that solemn tomfoolery, the Stratford Jubilee of 1769, in which his father doubled the part of Mark Antony with that of director of fireworks. Another occasional visitor to the school, magnificently frogged and braided after the fashion of his kind, was the Italian quack Dominicetti, also a family friend, who treated the boys royally. But perhaps the most interesting memories of young Angelo's Eton days are those which recall a holiday spent at Amesbury with his father and mother, as the guest of the Duke and Duchess of Queensberry. In his old age he could clearly picture the tall, thin figure of the taciturn Duke, in high leather gaiters, short-skirted frock, and gold-laced hat; and he well remembered the Duchess, then nearly eighty, but still energetic and garrulous, in a Quaker-coloured silk and black hood. He also remembered that he was allowed (like Gay before him) to fish for carp in the Amesbury water.

When he was entering his seventeenth year, Harry Angelo was sent to Paris to learn French. He was placed en pension in the Rue Poupé with a M. Boileau, a half-starved maître de langue, who, since he is seriously likened by his pupil to the Apothecary in 'Romeo and Juliet,' must really have resembled the typical Frenchman as depicted by Smollett and Rowlandson. Boileau was a conscientious teacher, but a miserable caterer; and young Angelo, after narrowly escaping collapse from starvation and close confinement, was eventually removed from his care. He passed, in the first instance, to a M. Liviez, whose wife was English, and (notwithstanding an undeniable squint) of a shape sufficiently elegant to have served as the model for Roubillac's figure of Eloquence on the Argyll tomb at Westminster Abbey. M. Liviez had been a dancer, and ballet-master at a London theatre. At this date he was a bon vivant, who collected prints. He was also subject to fits of hypochondria (probably caused by over-eating), when he would imagine himself Apollo, and fiddle feverishly to the nine Muses, typified for the nonce by a hemicycle of chairs. As both he and his wife preferred to speak English, they made no pretence to teach their lodger French; but, from the point of commissariat, the change from the Rue Poupé to the Rue Battois was 'removal from Purgatory to Paradise.' While Angelo was in Paris, Garrick sent him an introduction to Préville, whom Sterne describes as 'Mercury himself,' and who was, indeed, in some respects Garrick's rival. Préville knew Foote; and when Foote came to the French capital, he invited Angelo to a supper, at which Préville was present. Foote, binding Angelo to secrecy, delighted the company by mimicking their common acquaintance, the great Roscius; and Préville in his turn imitated the leading French comedians. All this was not very favourable to proficiency in the French language, which Angelo would probably have learned better in M. Boileau's garret. On the other hand, under Motet, then the champion pareur of the Continent, he became an expert swordsman--able, and only too willing, to take part in the encounters which, in the Paris of the day, were as common as street rows in London. But apart from swallowing the button and some inches of a foil when fencing with Lord Massereene in the Prison of the Abbaye (where that nobleman was unhappily in durance for debt), he seems to have enjoyed an exceptional immunity from accidents of all kinds.

He returned to London in 1775. His home at this time was at Carlisle House,^[15] in King's Square Court (now Carlisle Street), Soho. It was a spacious old Caroline mansion of red brick, which had belonged to the Howard family, and had been bought by Domenico Angelo from Lord Delaval, brother of Foote's patron, the Sir Francis to whom he dedicated his comedy of 'Taste.' There were lofty rooms with enriched ceilings; there was a marble-floored hall; there was a grand decorated staircase painted by Salvator's pupil, Henry Cook. In this building, at the beginning of 1763, its new owner had opened his fencing school, and subsequently, in the garden at the back, had erected stables and a manège, which extended to Wardour Street. Between pupils, resident and otherwise, and troops of friends, Carlisle House must always have been well filled and animated. Garrick, who was accustomed to consult the elder Angelo on matters of costume and stage machinery, was often a visitor, and presented his adviser with a magnificent silver goblet (long preserved by the Angelos as an heirloom), which held three bottles of Burgundy. Richard Brinsley Sheridan and his father were also friends, and it was from Domenico Angelo that the younger man, as a boy at Harrow, acquired that use of the small sword which was to stand him in such good stead in his later duel with Captain Mathews. Wilkes, again, resplendent in his favourite scarlet and gold, not seldom looked in on his way from his Westminster or Kensington houses; and Foote, the Chevalier D'Éon, and General Paoli were constant guests. Home Tooke, who lived hard by in Dean Street, was another intimate; and, when he was not discussing contemporary politics with Wilkes and Tom Sheridan, would sometimes enliven the company by singing a parody on 'God save the King,' which was not entirely to the loyal taste of the elder Angelo. Bach of the harpsichord,^[16] with Abel of the viol-da-gamba, were next-door neighbours and free of the house; Bartolozzi the engraver, and his inseparable Cipriani, were on an almost equally favoured footing. Another habitué was Gainsborough, whose passion for music is historical, and from whom any one could extract a sketch in return for a song or a tune. The walls of Abel's room were covered by drawings acquired in this manner, and pinned loosely to the paper-hangings,--drawings which afterwards fetched their price at Langford's in the Piazza. Besides these, came Philip de Loutherbourg, whom Domenico Angelo had introduced to Garrick as scene painter for Drury Lane; and Canaletto, whom he had known at Venice; and Zoffany; and George Stubbs, the author of the 'Anatomy of the Horse,' who carried on his studies in the Carlisle House Riding School, no doubt taking for model, among others, that famous white charger Monarch, of which the presentment survives to posterity, under King William III. of immortal memory, in West's 'Battle of the Boyne.'^[17] 'All the celebrated horse painters of the last, and some of the veterans of the present age,' says the author of the 'Reminiscences,' 'were constant visitors at our table or at the manège.' Lastly, an enthusiastic, though scarcely artistic, amateur of the Carlisle Street stud was the corpulent 'Hero of Culloden,' William, Duke of Cumberland. If not the greatest, he was certainly the heaviest prince in Christendom, since he rode some four-and-twenty stone, and, as a boy, Harry Angelo well remembered the significant sidelong dip of the carriage when His Royal Highness poised his ponderous person on the step.

An establishment upon the scale and traditions of Carlisle House (and there was also a 'cake-house' or country-box at Acton, for which Zoffany painted decorations) could only have been maintained at considerable expense. But in this respect Domenico Angelo seems to have been unusually fortunate, even for a foreigner. Within a short period after his arrival in England his income, according to his son, was over two thousand a year; and this sum, in the height of his prosperity, was nearly doubled. After Harry Angelo's account of his life in Paris, his records, always disconnected, grow looser in chronology; added to which, it is never quite easy to distinguish his personal recollections from the mere floating hearsay of a retentive but capricious memory. One of his earliest experiences, however, on returning to England, must have been his attendance, in December, 1775, at the trial, in the Old Bailey, of Mrs. Margaret Caroline Rudd, for complicity in the forgery for which the Brothers Perreau were subsequently hanged.^[18] His description of this fair-haired siren suggests a humbler Becky Sharp or Valérie Marneffe, and there can be little doubt that, as he implies, she owed her undeserved acquittal to the 'irresistible power of fascination' which captivated Boswell, and interested even his 'illustrious Friend.' Another incident at which Angelo assisted shortly afterwards, and which it is also possible to place precisely, was the riot that, in February, 1776, accompanied the attempt to produce at Drury Lane Parson Bate's unpopular opera of 'The Blackamoor wash'd White.' Angelo was one of a boxful of the author's supporters, who were forced to retire under the furious cannonade of 'apples, oranges, and other such missiles,' to which they were exposed. But a still more important theatrical event was his presence on that historic June 10, 1776, when Garrick bade farewell to the stage. He and his mother were in Mrs. Garrick's box, and the two ladies continued sobbing so long after they had quitted the house as to prompt the ironic comment of the elder Angelo that they could not have grieved more at the great man's funeral itself. Harry Angelo was also a spectator of the progress to Tyburn, in the following February, of the unfortunate Dr. Dodd, to whom, and to the horrors of 'Execution Day' in general, he devotes some of the latter pages of his first volume. 'His [Dodd's] corpse-like appearance produced an awful picture of human woe. Tens of thousands of hats, which formed a black mass, as the coach advanced were taken off simultaneously, and so many tragic faces exhibited a spectacle the effect of which is beyond the power of words to describe. Thus the procession travelled onwards through the multitude, whose silence added to the awfulness of the scene.' Two years later Angelo witnessed the execution of another clergyman, James Hackman, who was hanged for shooting Lord Sandwich's mistress, Martha Reay. The murder--it will be remembered--took place in the Piazza at Covent Garden, as the lady was leaving the theatre, and Angelo, according to his own account, had only quitted it himself a few minutes before. He afterwards saw the body of the criminal under dissection at Surgeons' Hall,--a gruesome testimony to the truth of Hogarth's final plate in the 'Four Stages of Cruelty.'

The above, the Gordon riots of '80, and the burning in '92 of Wyatt's Pantheon, are some of the few things in Angelo's first volume which it is practicable to date with certainty. The second volume is scarcely more than a sequence of headed paragraphs, roughly parcelled into sections, and difficult to sample. Like his father (who died at Eton in 1802), he became a 'master of the sword,' and like him, again, he lived upon terms of quasi-familiarity with many titled practitioners of that art,--being, indeed, upon one occasion the guest of the Duke of Sussex at the extremely select Neapolitan Club, an honour which, as the Prince of Wales was also present, seems to have been afterwards regarded as too good to be believed. Like Domenico Angelo, also, he had an extensive acquaintance with the artists and actors of his day. He had himself learned drawing at Eton under the Prince's master, Alexander Cozens, the apostle of 'blottesque,' and had studied a little with Bartolozzi and Cipriani. He had even ventured upon a few caricatures, in particular one of Lady Queensberry's black protégé, Soubise; and he was intimate with Thomas Rowlandson, whom he had known from boyhood, and followed to his grave in April, 1827. When Rowlandson was on his continental travels, Angelo was living in Paris, and he possessed many of the drawings which his friend executed at this time. In London they were frequently companions at Vauxhall and other places of amusement, where Rowlandson's busy pencil found its field of activity; and together they often heard the chimes at midnight in the house at Beaufort Buildings inhabited by Rowlandson's fat Mæcenas, the banker Mitchel, one of whose favourite guests was Peter Pindar. Angelo gives a good many anecdotes which have been utilized by Rowlandson's biographers; but perhaps the least hackneyed record of their alliance is contained in the pages which describe their joint visit to Portsmouth to see the French prizes after Lord Howe's victory of the 1st June, 1794, Angelo got down first, and went on board the largest French vessel, the 'Sans Pareil' (80 guns). He gives a graphic account of the appalling devastation,--the decks ploughed up by the round shot, the masts gone by the board, the miserable boyish crew, the hogshead of spirits to keep up their courage in action, the jumble of dead and dying in the 'tween decks, and above all, the terrible, sickening stench. On Howe's vessel, the 'Queen Charlotte,' on the contrary, there was scarcely a trace of battle, though another ship, the 'Brunswick,' had suffered to a considerable extent. Rowlandson joined Angelo at Portsmouth, and they witnessed together the landing of the prisoners. Afterwards they visited Forton, where, upon leaving one of the sick wards, Rowlandson made a ghastly study of a dying 'Mounseer' sitting up in bed to write his will, a priest with a crucifix at his side. But by this time Angelo had had enough of the horrors of war, and he returned to town, leaving Rowlandson to go on to Southampton to make--so he says--sketches of Lord Moira's embarkation for La Vendée. Here, however, the writer's recollection must have failed him, for Lord Moira's fruitless expedition was nearly a year old. What Rowlandson no doubt saw, was his Lordship's departure for Ostend to join the Duke of York. Angelo speaks highly of the--for Rowlandson--unusual finish and spirit of these drawings, with their boatloads of soldiers and studies of shipping. They were purchased by Fores of Piccadilly, but do not appear to have been reproduced. There is, however, at South Kensington a sketch by Rowlandson of the French prizes coming into Portsmouth, which must have been executed at this date.

Another associate of Angelo, and also of Rowlandson, was John (or more familiarly, Jack) Bannister, the actor. Bannister and Rowlandson had been students together at the Royal Academy, and had combined in worrying, by mimicry and caricature, gruff Richard Wilson, who had succeeded Frank Hayman as librarian. In the subsequent pranks of this practical joking age, Angelo, who had known them both from boyhood, often made a third; and he was present upon an occasion which was as unfeignedly pathetic as Garrick's famous farewell,--the farewell of Bannister to the stage. Many of the anecdotes contained in the entertainment which preceded this leave-taking--namely, 'Bannister's Budget,'--were included by permission in the 'Reminiscences;' and Angelo, who had learned elocution from Tom Sheridan, and was an excellent amateur actor, more than once played for Bannister's benefits, notably at the Italian Opera House in 1792 as Mrs. Cole in Foote's 'Minor,' and in 1800 before the Royal Family at Windsor as Papillon in 'The Liar,' also by Foote. On this latter occasion the bill records that Mr. H. Angelo, 'by particular desire,' obliged with 'A Solo Duet; or, Ballad Singers in Cranbourn Alley.' These were by no means his solitary dramatic essays. At the pretty little private theatre which, in 1788, that emphatically lively nobleman, Richard, seventh Earl of Barrymore, erected at Wargrave-on-Thames, he was a frequent performer. His first, or one of his first parts, was that of Dick in Vanbrugh's 'Confederacy,' when Barrymore played Brass; and a later and favourite impersonation was Worsdale's rôle of Lady Pentweazel in Foote's 'Taste.' Angelo is careful, however, to make it clear that the exigencies of his professional engagements did not permit him to go to the full length of the Wargrave Court of Comus--some of whose revels must have closely resembled the 'blind hookey' by which the footman in 'The Newcomes' described the doings of Lord Farintosh. As he seems, nevertheless, to have accompanied Barrymore to low spouting-clubs like Jacob's Well; to have driven with him at night through the long straggling street of Colnbrook, while his sportive Lordship was industriously 'fanning the daylights,' i.e., breaking the windows to right and left with his whip; and to have serenaded Mrs. Fitzherbert in his company at Brighton,--he had certainly sufficient opportunities for studying the 'caprices and eccentricities' of this illustrious and erratic specimen of what the late Mortimer Collins was wont to describe as the 'strong generation.' Besides acting at Wargrave, he had also often joined in the private theatricals at Brandenburgh House, then the Hammersmith home of Lord Berkeley's sister, that Margravine of Anspach whose comedy of 'The Sleep-walker' Walpole had printed at the Strawberry Hill Press. Lastly, he was a member of the short-lived Pic-Nic Society inaugurated by Lady Buckinghamshire, an association which combined balls and private plays with suppers on the principle of the line in Goldsmith's 'Retaliation,'--

'Each guest brought his dish, and the feast was united.'

Lady Buckinghamshire, a large personage, with a good digestion and an unlimited appetite for pleasure, was one of the three card-loving leaders of fashion satirised so mercilessly by Gillray as 'Faro's Daughters,'--her fellow-sinners being Lady Archer and Mrs. Concannon. But whatever may have happened over the green tables at St. James's Square, 'gaming'--writes Angelo--'formed no part of the plan of the Pic-Nics.' Not the less, they had their element of chance. It was the practice to draw lots for furnishing the supper, an arrangement which, if it sometimes permitted the drawers to escape with the trifling contribution of a pound cake or a bag of China oranges, more frequently imposed upon them the enforced provision of a dozen of champagne or a three-guinea Périgord pie.

It would take a lengthy article to exhaust the budget of these chaotic memories, even if one made rigid selection of those incidents only in which the writer affirms that he was personally concerned. Not a few of the stories, however, are common property, and are told as well elsewhere. For instance, Angelo repeats the anecdote of Goldsmith's 'Croaker,' Shuter, who, following--for his 'Cries of London'--a particularly musical vendor of silver eels, found to his vexation that on this particular occasion the man was unaccountably mute. Questioning him at length, the poor fellow explained, with a burst of tears, that his vife had died that day, and that he could not 'cry.' This is related in Taylor's 'Records,' and no doubt in a dozen places besides. Similarly, the anecdote of Hayman the painter and the Marquis of Granby having a bout with the gloves previous to a sitting, is to be found in the 'Somerset House Gazette' of 'Ephraim Hardcastle' (W. H. Pyne);^[19] and it has been suggested--we know not upon what authority--that Pyne had a good deal to do with Angelo's chronicles. Be this as it may, there are plenty of anecdotes which are so obviously connected with the narrator that, even if all the make-weights be discarded, a residue remains which is far too large to be dealt with here. We shall confine ourselves to the few pages which refer to Byron, whom Angelo seems to have known well. Byron, who had been one of Angelo's pupils at Harrow, had interested himself in establishing Angelo as a fencing master at Cambridge, where he entertained him and Theodore Hook at dinner, seeing them off himself afterwards by the London stage, duly fortified with stirrup cups of the famous St. John's College beer. When later Byron left Cambridge for town, Angelo seems to have taken great pains to find a book which his noble friend wanted in order to decide a wager, and his eventual success increased the favour in which he stood. He was subsequently in the habit of giving Byron lessons at the Albany in the broadsword,--a fearsome exercise which was chosen in view of the pupil's tendency to flesh, and for which he elaborately handicapped himself with furs and flannels. Of the relations between Angelo and Byron at this date a memento is still said to survive at Mr. John Murray's in Albemarle Street. It is a screen made by Angelo for his patron. On one side are all the eminent pugilists from Broughton to Jackson; on the other the great actors from Betterton to Kean. When Byron left the country in 1816 the screen was sold with his effects, and so passed into the pious hands of its present possessor.

Reference has already been made to what Mr. Egerton Castle accurately describes as Angelo's 'graceful ease' in eluding dates, and it should be added that he gives very few particulars respecting his personal history or his professional establishments. At first, it may be assumed, he taught fencing at his father's school in Carlisle Street. Later on, the salle d'armes which he mentions oftenest is that formerly belonging to the Frenchman Redas in the Opera House buildings at the corner of the Haymarket, almost facing the Orange Coffee House, then the chosen resort of foreigners of all sorts.^[20] When the Opera was burned down in 1789, these rooms were destroyed, and Angelo apparently transferred his quarters to Bond Street. Under the heading 'My Own Boastings,' he gives a list of his titled and aristocratic pupils to the year 1817, and it is certainly an imposing one. 'In the year of [Edmund] Kean's benefit' [1825?] he strained his thigh when fencing with the actor, and was thenceforth obliged 'to bid adieu to the practical exertions of the science.' His last years seem to have been passed in retirement at a village near Bath, and from his description of his means as 'a small annuity' it must be presumed that he was poor. He had been married, and he speaks of two of his sons to whom the Duke of York had given commissions in the army; but that is all he says on the subject. Besides the volumes of 'Reminiscences,' he compiled a miscellany entitled 'Angelo's Pic-Nic,' to which George Cruikshank contributed a characteristic frontispiece. In addition to this, he issued an English version in smaller form of his father's 'École des Armes,' a magnificent subscription folio which had first appeared in 1763;^[21] and was reproduced two years later, under the head Escrime, in the Supplement to the 'Encyclopédie' of Diderot and D'Alembert. The translation of the 'School of Fencing,' as the smaller book of 1787 was called, is attributed to Rowlandson. Rowlandson also etched twenty-four plates for Angelo on the use of the Hungarian and Highland broadsword. These were put forth in 1798-9 by T. Egerton of the 'Military Library near Whitehall', the adventurous publisher who printed the first three novels of Jane Austen.

[12]	Here and elsewhere we correct Angelo's spelling.

[13]	'Reminiscences of Henry Angelo, with Memoirs of his late Father and Friends,' 2 vols., London: Colburn and Bentley, 1830.

[14]

Apparently Garrick often did this. Once, at Hampton, he read Chaucer's 'Cock and Fox' to the boys after supper, and then, having recited Goldsmith's 'Hermit,' fell asleep in his arm-chair. Thereupon Mrs. Garrick, taking off her lace apron, fondly placed it over his face, and motioned her young friends away to bed.

[15]	Not to be confounded with Carlisle House on the other side of Soho Square, which was occupied from 1760 to 1778 by the enterprising Mrs. Teresa Cornelys, whose ball-room was in Sutton Street, on the site of the present Roman Catholic Church of St. Patrick.

[16]	This was John Christian Bach, Bach's son, familiarly known as 'English Bach.' Angelo calls him Sebastian, but John Sebastian Bach died in 1750. Bach and Abel jointly conducted Mrs. Cornelys' concerts.

[17]	The 'Battle of the Boyne' was engraved by John Hall, Raimbach's master. See post, 'An English Engraver in Paris.'

[18]	One wonders whether Thackeray was thinking of this cause célèbre in 'Denis Duval,' where there is a Miss Rudge and a Farmer Perreau. Angelo, it may be added, was present at the hanging at Tyburn of M. de la Motte, an actual character in the same book.

[19]	See post, 'The Grub Street of the Arts.'

[20]

Also, if we may trust a sketch by Rowlandson, of the gentlemen of the army and navy. To the Orange Coffee House--it may be mentioned--under cover to an imaginary 'Mr. Grafton', Thomas Lowndes, the Fleet Street publisher, forwarded in 1778 the proofs of Fanny Burney's 'Evelina' ('Early Diary,' 1889, ii. 214).

[21]	Domenico Angelo, Lord Pembroke, and the Chevalier D'Éon stood as models for the illustrations, which were designed by Gwynn the painter. They were engraved by Grignion, Ryland, and Hall.