SMITH, JAMES ( I and HORACE (1 779- 1849), authors of the Rejected Addresses, sons of a London solici tor, were born, the former on Feb. io, 1775, and the latter on Dec. 31, 1779, both in London. The occasion of their happy jeu d'esprit was the rebuilding of Drury Lane theatre in 1812, after a fire in which it had been burnt down. The managers had offered a prize of £50 for an address to be recited of the reopening in October. The brothers Smith had the idea of making the most popular poets of the time figure as competitors and issuing a volume of unsuccessful addresses in parody of their various styles. They divided the task between them. James took Wordsworth, Southey, Coleridge and Crabbe, while Moore, Scott and Bowles were assigned to Horace. Both had a hand in Byron. Seven edi tions were called for within three months. Rejected Addresses is a classic in the literature of parody. The only other undertaking of the two brothers was Horace in London (1813). James Smith made another hit in writing Country Cousins, A Trip to Paris, A Trip to America and other lively skits for Charles Mathews who said he was "the only man who can write clever nonsense." James was reputed one of the best of talkers in an age when the art was studied, and it was remarked that he held his own without falling into the great error of wits—sarcasm. But in his old age
the irreverent Fraser's put him in its gallery of living portraits as a gouty and elderly but painstaking joker. He died in London on Dec. 24, After making a fortune as a stockbroker, Horace Smith wrote about a score of historical novels—Brarnbletye House (1826), Tor Hill (1826), Reuben Apsley (1827), Zillah (1828), The New Forest (1829), Walter Colyton (183o), etc. But he was more of an essayist than a story-teller. Three volumes of Gaieties and Gravi ties, published by him in 1826, contain many witty essays both in prose and in verse, but the only single piece that has taken a per manent place is the "Address to the Mummy in Belzoni's Exhibi tion." Shelley said of Horace : "Is it not odd that the only truly generous person I ever knew who had money enough to be gener ous with should be a stockbroker? He writes poetry and pas toral dramas and yet knows how to make money, and does make it, and is still generous." Horace Smith died at Tunbridge Wells on July 12, 1849.
See Beavan, James and Horace Smith (1899).