{8} This alludes to the Young Betty mania. The writer was in the stage-box at the height of this young gentleman’s popularity. One of the other occupants offered, in a loud voice, to prove that Young Betty did not understand Shakespeare. “Silence!” was the cry; but he still proceeded. “Turn him out!” was the next ejaculation. He still vociferated. “He does not understand Shakespeare;” and was consequently shouldered into the lobby. “I’ll prove it to you,” said the critic to the doorkeeper. “Prove what, sir?” “That he does not understand Shakespeare.” This was Molière’s housemaid with a vengeance. Young Betty may now [1833] be seen walking about town—a portly personage, aged about forty—clad in a furred and frogged surtout; probably muttering to himself (as he has been at college), “O mihi præteritos!” &c. [He is still alive, 1854. Master Betty, or the “Young Roscius,” was born in 1791, and made his first appearance on a London stage as Achmet in “Barbarossa,” at Covent Garden Theatre, on the lst of December, 1804. He was, therefore, “not quite thirteen.” He lasted two seasons.] {10a} A “Phoenix” was perhaps excusable. The first theatre in Drury Lane was called “The Cock-pit or Phoenix Theatre.” Whitbread himself wrote an address, it is said, for the occasion; like the others, it had of course a Phoenix. “But Whitbread,” said Sheridan, “made more of the bird than any of them; he entered into particulars, and described its wings, beak, tail, &c.; in short, it was a _poulterer’s_ description of a Phoenix.” {10b} For an account of this anonymous gentleman, see Preface, xiii. {12a} “The author has succeeded better in copying the melody and misanthropic sentiments of _Childe Harold_, than the nervous and impetuous diction in which his noble biographer has embodied them. The attempt, however, indicates very considerable power; and the flow of the verse and the construction of the poetical period are imitated with no ordinary skill.”—JEFFREY, _Edinburgh Review_.