him mind what was said by persons who scarcely believed their own sophisms; that he himself when young had been attacked and staggered by the same objections; that he had examined them all, and found them all false and hollow. This diverted the discourse to other subjects which were more agreeable. The name of the person who had thus addressed Mr. Shield, and who thus assumed the office of a censor, was Cannon: he was the son of an Irish bishop. He was advanced in years, and presided in the company with an air of authority that was partly submitted to in earnest, and partly humoured for the joke's sake. He regularly dined here every day. On entering the room, he first pulled off his great coat, and fastened it with two long pins to the back of a tall cane-worked old chair, with knobs behind; and after disposing of his umbrella, which in those days was a great singularity, he used to pay his respects to the company with much formality, and then sat down. He had one place, which was always kept for him; and for this privilege, it seems, he paid double price. If any stranger came in by chance, and took possession of his seat, he would never sit down in other, but walked any and down the room in a restless way, till the person was gone. It was his constant custom to carry with him a small pocket volume of Milton, or Young's Night Thoughts, in which he had made a great number of marginal notes; and as soon as dinner was over, he regularly took out one of his favourite authors, and opening the book at random, requested the person who sat next him, whether a stranger, or one of the usual company, to read aloud a certain passage which he thought very beautiful. This offer was of course declined by those who knew him, who, in return, begged that he would favour the company with it himself, which he did, at the same time repeating the remarks which he had made in the margin. He then very deliberately closed the book, and put it into his pocket again. Cannon was a man of letters, and had travelled. He spoke a very florid language, full of epithets and compound words, and professed to be engaged in an edition of Tibullus.

up

he was promoted to the rank of principal viola, a post which he retained for upwards of eighteen years.

An adventure which occurred to Mr. Shield soon after his · first engagement at the Opera is thus related in the "Memoirs of Mr. Holcroft," with whom Mr. Shield had become intimately acquainted in his still more youthful days:

"It was winter, and in consequence of some new piece, they had very long rehearsals every morning.

One day Mr. Shield was detained longer than usual, his dinner-hour was over, he felt himself very cold when he came out, and his attendance for so many hours had sharpened his appetite. He therefore proceeded up the Haymarket with the determination to get some refreshment at the first place that offered. He had strolled into St. Martin's Lane, without meeting with any thing that he liked, till he came to a little bye-court, called Porridge Island;' at the corner of which, in a dark, dirty-looking window, he discovered a large round of beef, smoking, which strongly seconded the disposition he already felt in himself to satisfy his hunger. He did not, however, much like the appearance of the place: he looked again, the temptation grew stronger, and at last he ventured in. Having asked for dinner, he was shown into a room up one pair of stairs, not very large, but convenient and clean, where he found several persons already set down to dinner. He was invited to join them, and to his great joy found both the fare and the accommodation excellent. But his attention was shortly much more powerfully arrested by the conversation which took place at the table. Philosophy, religion, politics, poetry, the belles lettres, were talked of, and in such a manner, as to show that every person there was familiar with such subjects, and that they formed the ordinary topics of conversation. Mr. Shield listened in a manner which denoted his surprise and pleasure. The conversation at one time began to take rather a free turn, when a grave, elderly-looking man, who sat at the head of the table, addressed the new guest telling him that he seemed a young man, and by his countenance showed some signs of grace; that he would not have

him mind what was said by persons who scarcely believed their own sophisms; that he himself when young had been attacked and staggered by the same objections; that he had examined them all, and found them all false and hollow. This diverted the discourse to other subjects which were more agreeable. The name of the person who had thus addressed Mr. Shield, and who thus assumed the office of a censor, was Cannon: he was the son of an Irish bishop. He was advanced in years, and presided in the company with an air of authority that was partly submitted to in earnest, and partly humoured for the joke's sake. He regularly dined here every day. On entering the room, he first pulled off his great coat, and fastened it with two long pins to the back of a tall cane-worked old chair, with knobs behind; and after disposing of his umbrella, which in those days was a great singularity, he used to pay his respects to the company with much formality, and then sat down. He had one place, which was always kept for him; and for this privilege, it seems, he paid double price. If any stranger came in by chance, and took possession of his seat, he would never sit down in any other, but walked up and down the room in a restless way, till the It was his constant custom person was gone. to carry with him a small pocket volume of Milton, or Young's Night Thoughts, in which he had made a great number of marginal notes; and as soon as dinner was over, he regularly took out one of his favourite authors, and opening the book at random, requested the person who sat next him, whether a stranger, or one of the usual company, to read aloud a certain passage which he thought very beautiful. This offer was of course declined by those who knew him, who, in return, begged that he would favour the company with it himself, which he did, at the same time repeating the remarks which he had made in the margin. He then very deliberately closed the book, and put it into his pocket again. Cannon was a man of letters, and had travelled. He spoke florid language, full of epithets and compound words, and professed to be engaged in an edition of Tibullus.

a very

Mr. Shield was so much amused with this old gentleman, and interested in the general conversation (not to say that the commons were excellent), that he was determined he would in future dine no where else; he was also eager to inform Holcroft of the discovery he had made, whom he invited to go along with him the next day, and who also became a very constant visitor. The persons who were generally present were Messrs. Shield, Nicholson, Holcroft, Cannon, &c. who formed themselves into a little society, which, in compliment to the last-mentioned person, was called 'The Cannonian.'

Mr. Shield's first appearance as a dramatic composer was in the year 1778, in the music to the afterpiece of the "Flitch of Bacon," which obtained great success. The words were from the pen of the Rev. Mr. Bate, afterwards Sir Henry Bate Dudley, being also his first dramatic attempt. Some time after this he accepted the situation of composer to Covent Garden Theatre, in which capacity several of his most popular works were produced. A difference, however, between himself and the manager, respecting pecuniary matters, induced the former, after having filled the situation for several years with great success, to send in his resignation.

In the year 1790, while on a visit to Taplow, he had the good fortune to make the acquaintance of Haydn; and he has been heard to declare, that he gained more important information in four days' communion with that founder of a style which has given fame to so many imitators, than ever he did by the best directed studies of any part of his life. "I had seen him," says Shield, "at the concert of Ancient Music the preceding evening; and having observed his countenance expressive of rapture and astonishment at the performance of the chorus in Joshua, The nations tremble at the dreadful sound,' I took the favourable opportunity of asking his opinion of that composition. His reply was, 'I have long been acquainted with music, but never knew half its powers till I heard this. I am quite certain,' added he, that only one author, and that author inspired, ever did, or ever could, pen so sublime a composition." "

obliging it to carry me up and down so many precipices; and as I saw women walk it, I was resolved to do the same, for I was then in possession of the temper of the animal which I led, and would not yield to the entreaties of my fellowtravellers to remount. I was so much exhausted when I arrived at Laneburg, that I threw myself upon the bed soon after which, dinner was served up in the same room; but my appetite had entirely left me through fatigue: my heart was good, but my strength failed me. However, after waiting for two hours for some very indifferent tea, it revived me a little, and I got into the coach, and was entirely recovered by the time we reached Turin. A man needs no common share of that inestimable quality which you so eminently possess (fortitude), to travel through the south of France and Savoy, with only a dozen words of the language. I thought change of scene would prove the best medicine for me, and I seem to have been right in my prognostications, for I find myself in the full possession of my faculties, and am determined to exert myself in my profession. A very accomplished Russian is my chief companion. But the greatest original of our voiture party is a Chinese, of a small stature, but of a capacious memory: he speaks the French, Italian, Spanish, German, Dutch, Russian, and Latin languages, so as to astonish the natives and students of the above. His character is so uncommon that were you to draw him for the English stage he must reside in London before the audience would acknowledge your character to be natural: most people like him; for the only indignity he has yet met with is his being taken my valet, from his attention to me.

for

"Yours truly,

"WILLIAM SHIELD.

"P. S. I cannot view the beautiful scenes which at present surround me, without recollecting the strokes of Milton's pencil in his sublime picture of Paradise Lost."

On his return to England, in the autumn of 1792, Mr. Shield