Rowe Mores, whose prejudice against the Second Caslon is undisguised, waxes facetious on the head of this innocent declaration,[486] although he can find but little to blame in the Specimen itself, “in which,” he says, “is nothing censurable but the silly notion and silly fondness of multiplying bodies”—the Specimen showed a long-bodied English and a large-face Long Primer and Bourgeois—“as if the intrinsic of a foundery consisted in the numerosity of the heads!” Such animadversions, however, leave untouched the younger Caslon’s reputation as an able and successful typefounder, which was, indeed, so well established that during the later years of his father’s life he appears to have had the sole management of the business. Caslon I, having lived to see the result of his genius and industry in the regeneration of the Art of Printing in England, retired, universally respected, from the active management of the Foundry, and took up his residence first in {245} a house opposite the Nag’s Head in the Hackney Road, removing afterwards to Water Gruel Row, and finally settling in what was then styled a country house at Bethnal Green, where he resided till the time of his death. “Mr. Caslon,” says Nichols, “was universally esteemed as a first-rate artist, a tender master, and an honest, friendly, and benevolent man.”[487] The following anecdote, preserved by Sir John Hawkins in his _History of Music_, gives a pleasing glimpse into his private life, and shows that in his devotion to the severer arts the gentler were not neglected. “Mr. Caslon,” says Sir John, “settled in Ironmonger Row, in Old Street; and being a great lover of music, had frequent concerts at his house, which were resorted to by many eminent masters. To these he used to invite his friends and those of his old acquaintance, the companions of his youth. He afterwards removed to a large house in Chiswell Street, and had an organ in his concert room.[488] After that, he had stated monthly concerts, which, for the convenience of his friends, and that they might walk home in safety when the performance was over, were on that Thursday in the month which was nearest the full moon; from which circumstance his guests were wont humourously to call themselves ‘Luna-tics.’ In the intervals of the performance the guests refreshed themselves at a sideboard, which was amply furnished; and when it was over, sitting down to a bottle of wine, and a decanter of excellent ale, of Mr. Caslon’s own brewing, they concluded the evening’s entertainment with a song or two of Purcell’s sung to the harpsicord, or a few catches; and, about twelve, retired.”[489] Mr. Caslon’s hospitalities were not confined to his musical friends merely. His house was a resort of literary men of all classes, of whom large parties frequently assembled to discuss interesting matters relating to books and studies.[490]