Life of Edmond Malone/Chapter 6
CHAPTER VI.
1783—1786.
Such was the friend upon whom Malone had some time previously ventured to try his skill in political negotiation. Who the original prompter was on this occasion does not appear. Perhaps Burke, also an old friend of Flood; perhaps indirectly Windham, just nominated Irish Secretary, likewise a friend of Burke and Malone, although the latter had not seen him since his accession to office. But the letter implies some—although indirect—authority for the proposal.
Dear Flood—You will probably, before you receive this letter, have heard that Lord Northington is appointed Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and Mr. Windham, of Norfolk (not Lord Egremont’s brother), a gentleman of good fortune, his secretary.
This new appointment is the occasion of taking up my pen at present for the purpose of asking you whether you mean to come to England shortly, or have any wish or intention to form any part of the new administration in the next session in Ireland. I trouble you with these inquiries, not from idle curiosity, but because I am well, though not officially, informed that the new Government is thoroughly impressed with a sense of your importance; and, of course, I should think, would wish to make an arrangement that should be the means of obtaining your friendship and assistance.
I shall not enlarge further on this business till I hear from you what your intentions or wishes are. Among other things that I have reason to believe are attainable, I have great grounds for believing that the office of Chancellor of the Exchequer may be vacated; and if any office is an object to you, I take it for granted that must be one.
It is so long since I have seen you that I am entirely ignorant whether such an office or any other is at present an object of your wishes; and I am also aware that you may have particular reasons for not choosing to disclose your intentions to any one. I request, therefore, you will be so good as to communicate or withhold your thoughts from me on this subject, as you please. If you think fit to employ me, I think it may be in my power to put things in such a train as will be agreeable to you; and you know there are occasions in which a middle-man is a useful one.
You will, I am sure, readily believe that I have no other object or interest in this business but doing you, and the public at the same time, a service. I must, however, once more repeat that what I write is neither at the desire nor even with the knowledge of any person concerned in Government; but is merely in consequence of my putting together a number of things that have lately fallen within my private observation, and in which I think I cannot be mistaken. Mr. Windham, the new secretary, is an acquaintance of mine, but I have not seen him since his new appointment. He is a man of strict honour, and does not go to Ireland with any view to emolument, it being with great difficulty he was prevailed upon to accept of his present employment.
I am doubtful where you are at present, but will direct to Dublin. I wish either business or inclination led you a little more to this part of the world; being, my dear Flood, with perfect truth,
The voice of the charmer to office—how rare is such a result!—sounded in vain. Quite as powerless was that of his former tutor, Archbishop Markham, the following week; yet he wrote avowedly from personal communication with Lord Northington, that any position selected by Mr. Flood should not be withheld. Why he declined can only be conjectured. Perhaps an impression of the instability of Ministry—that a weight evidently forced upon the Royal shoulders would be thrown off at the first fitting moment, and he necessarily as part of the burden. By the reply, it appears he could not have accepted his former office:—
Dear Malone—I have just received your favour of the 24th of April, and am equally concerned that we are not oftener together. I attempted your door last summer when I was in London.
I have been a friend to Irish rights to the best of my poor power, it is true, and upon the fairest grounds. Some people said it was to recover my office, which I could have kept had that been an object. The late suspense with respect to one of those appointments revived this tale, and I never thought it worth my while to tell them what I said long since to Mr. Eden, viz., that if I were dismissed from the vice-treasurership, I never should resume it. I will keep my word; I am apt to do it. At the same time I am sincerely disposed to English Government. This you will readily believe who know my principles and my situation, neither of which I will abandon. They are above vulgar faction and vulgar ambition. I was suggested into office on higher motives. I embraced administration with an unsuspecting credulity. I felt it was their interest to act as they spoke; but I found myself deceived. I do not know the author or motive to this. You know the consequence.
I take your communication to be precisely such as you state. I have no immediate inducement to go to England; and, if you have none to come to Ireland, let us at least correspond. I am perfectly assured of your good wishes, and I flatter myself you are equally so of mine.
You write to me as if I was a Privy Councillor.[1]
Two notes succeed this, one in June, in which the classics take their turn; another in November, in which hints are dropped of the little familiarity in Ireland with the less prominent shades of English politics. Nor was England better informed of the tendencies of her weaker sister. So marked was their little familiarity with each other, or so imprudent the policy pursued in the face of passing events, that a stranger might have doubted whether both were members of the same kingdom. Such mistakes and misapprehensions are unavoidable with two Parliaments sitting in two divisions of one empire:—“A thousand thanks for your literary selections. I am still better pleased that we are to meet this summer in Ireland. That implies of necessity a visit to Farmley, which will open all its doors to you. For fear, however, of being seduced to Dublin or Westmeath, I counsel the road of South Wales, Milford, and Waterford to you. I mentioned in my letter another translation of Euripides, lately advertised, of which, however, I have never heard any character, and I suppose by your silence it deserves none. England exhibits at present a strange scene to one at a distance from it. I do not, however, pretend to judge very decisively on it for that reason.”
Soon after the publication of the supplement to Shakspeare in 1780, he saw cause for various emendations, and followed it up by an appendix. In the spring of this year (1783) came out A Second Appendix to Mr. Malone’s Supplement to the last Edition of the Plays of Shakspeare. This extends to nearly seventy pages: reference is always made to “Mr. Steevens’ last excellent edition of 1778;” and it is introduced by a passage from Roscommon, whose critical advice seems to have been ever present to his mind—
There sweat, there strain; tug the laborious oar;
Search every comment that your care can find:
Some here, some there, may hit the poet’s mind.
When things appear unnatural and hard,
Consult your author with himself compared.”
The fact communicated to him by Steevens himself of having ceased to be a commentator, led to the wish of supplying the vacant place. Such necessity he probably conceived to exist some time before, but about this period the design was finally formed. In August he had occasion to write to Mr. Nichols, the zealous and intelligent editor of the Gentleman’s Magazine, on other literary points, and requests that he may be announced as “preparing a new edition of Shakspeare, with select notes from all the commentators.” He adds—“I am just preparing to set out for Ireland for a few months. My address there is Baronston, Mullingar.”
No details of this journey, which we have seen was likewise announced to Flood, appear among such of his papers as I have personally examined, or are noticed in remains found elsewhere. This may be explained by their extensive dispersion in book and autograph sales. But probably it may have been postponed; unless some rumour reached him that in the literary office in which he had engaged, certain stores of antiquity were likely to be forthcoming in some of its historical recesses.
In 1784 the journal of anecdotes commences by noting a conversation with Horace Walpole, who repeats in some of his letters what he also freely communicated in personal intercourse. To Strawberry Hill were taken such of Malone’s friends as were desirous of viewing its rarities; but the fastidious owner, with the whim inherent in the man, would admit only four persons in a party, although gratified by the general curiosity to examine its contents.
For this regulation he apologizes in a note to Malone written in the spring. Her Royal Highness the Princess Amelia, he says, was graciously pleased to assent to it as reasonable, although some proposed visitors were to come from her house. But “he will willingly send Mr. Malone three tickets for four each for any day after next Monday.”
One of his visits to the owner of this classical abode drew forth a few anecdotes of his father, which appeared to be as well remembered as pleasantly told by the son.
“Having called on Mr. Walpole this morning (March 30th, 1784), I took occasion to mention Lord Hardwicke’s new work, entitled Walpoliana, a small quarto, containing some anecdotes relative to Sir Robert Walpole, of which I believe only a few copies were printed for his friends. They have not been published. Mr. Walpole said it was a very extraordinary performance, and he wondered much that a nobleman who lived so near the time would send forth anything so imperfect and inaccurate, when he might so easily have obtained better information.
“This account (he said) of Sir Robert’s becoming Minister to George II. was entirely erroneous. The truth of the matter, Mr. Walpole said, was as follows:—On the death of George I., Sir Robert, who was then First Lord of the Treasury, went to the Prince, at Richmond, to announce the event. He knew he was no favourite there (Sir Robert having attached himself to George I., between whom and his son there was a quarrel), though he believed the Princess (afterwards Queen Caroline) very well inclined to him. As soon as admitted,[2] and he told the new King what had occurred, he further informed his Majesty that the first thing necessary to do was to assemble the Privy Council, and to make a speech to them. Sir Robert then asked him who should draw it up, or, in other words, who was to be his prime minister? The King desired him to apply to Sir Spencer Compton (afterwards Lord Wilmington), the speaker of the House of Commons. Sir Robert accordingly did so. Sir Spencer, a few hours afterwards calling upon Sir Robert, honestly owned that he could not draw up a proper speech, and requested Walpole’s assistance, which the latter goodnaturedly gave him. When this matter came to be known, Queen Caroline urged to the King how very improper it was to make any one his prime minister, who so far from being equal to the office was forced to seek assistance from the very person whom he was about to displace. The King, struck by the observation, continued Sir Robert in his old station.
“Having got upon this subject, I expressed my suprise to Mr. Walpole that he had not himself given the world some memoirs of his father’s life and times. He said that, at the time his father was principally concerned in the administration of affairs, he was at college or abroad; that he came home about the year 1740 or 1741; that Sir Robert died about three years afterwards; and at that time of life he troubled himself very little in inquiring after such historical anecdotes, &c. If, therefore, he undertook the task at all, he must rely on the information of others. Independent however of this, he thought the world would be little inclined to pay attention to what a son should say of his father. All his statements would be deemed coloured and partial; even where he should be most simple and nearest to the truth.
“He proceeded to mention a singular anecdote of Dr. Kippis, editor of the new edition of the Biographia Britannica. Mr. Walpole in his Royal and Noble Authors had said of that work, that ‘it ought rather to be called Vindicatio Britannica, for that it was a general panegyric upon everybody.’ In an additional note to the new edition, Dr. Kippis, quoting this passage, added, ‘that whenever the editors should come in the course of the new publication to the article of his father, Sir Robert, he might probably find that the work was not a panegyric upon everybody.’ Notwithstanding, however, this threat, Dr. Kippis a few days ago waited on Mr. W., with whom he had no acquaintance, to request he would furnish the new work with his father’s life. He replied, that he certainly should not, giving the reasons he assigned to me that he should trust his father’s memory to the justice of posterity. If, however, when Dr. Kippis had drawn up his account he would lay it before him, should anything be grossly misstated, he should point out such mistakes, but not go a step further.’
“Among the anecdotes of Sir Robert Walpole, I wonder the following should not have come to the knowledge of Lord Hardwicke. In the height of Pultney’s opposition, an old gentleman had constantly voted with the minister, and often attended his levee; but never asked him for any favour. Sir Robert, who was plagued with daily solicitations, felt some surprise at this, and at length observed to him that he was much obliged by his support, and should be happy to know how he could serve him. The other replied, that he wanted nothing. Sir Robert, who believed every man acted from interested motives, exclaimed, ‘How then, my dear sir, comes it to pass that I am honoured with your support?’ “Why, I’ll tell you,” said the old gentleman, ‘I have lived a great deal in foreign countries where an arbitrary government prevails. I hold such a government to be the best that ever was devised; and all your measures appear to me admirably well calculated to render this Government arbitrary, and the king at the head of it despotic. On this principle, as long as ever you continue minister, you may rely upon my voice.’
“I heard this story many years ago, and mentioning it long since to Mr. Andrew Stewart (author of the admirable letters to Lord Mansfield), he said it was certainly true; and that the gentleman was a Scotchman, a Mr. Falkiner, of Selkirk, as well as I recollect.”
The literary club cemented sincere friendship with Dr. Percy, Bishop of Dromore, familiar to students of old verse by Reliques of Ancient English Poetry. Frequent correspondence ensued and continued through life, even when the Bishop becoming blind was obliged to employ the pen of another. Literature formed the usual topic—dear to both in old books, editions, plays, ballads, fragments of criticism on the older writers, inquiries as to the new, loans of what the other did not possess, and of course emendations of Shakspeare. “As I shall soon have an opportunity,” writes the prelate in February, 1785, “of having a parcel of books sent me from London, if you have no particular wish to retain the second edition folio of Shakspeare longer (otherwise I withdraw my request), I should be much obliged if you would be pleased to send it well packed up, directed for me.”
The same letter gives a sorry picture of difficulties in the culture of literature in Ireland. He always writes with a species of enthusiasm of the “Club”—the enjoyment he derived from it, asks what new members have joined, desires remembrance to the old—and rarely forgets to conclude with, “Esto perpetua!” “In this remote part of the kingdom, nothing would afford me a higher gratification than to be honoured with a few lines from you or any other of my good friends, to inform me what is doing in the literary world; of which I can seldom obtain intelligence sooner than it might reach to the East Indies. How is the Club attended? What names have been added to it? These questions I am tempted to trouble you with, though sensible that your time may be better employed. But my obligations will be the greater.”
Accident occasionally enabled the Bishop to return something in the way of anecdote. One of these relates to Swift. It is characteristic of that eccentric and scarcely intelligible man, whose conduct even when kind always differed from that of others in the mode of displaying it, I have not seen the story elsewhere, and therefore transfer it to a note for the amusement of the reader.[3]
Another object now occupied the Bishop, which furnished several letters to Malone. This was to collect—or to make others do so—materials for a Memoir of Goldsmith to prefix to an edition of his works. Of this tedious operation, occupying no less than sixteen years, I have given the history elsewhere.[4] The aim was to benefit the poorer relatives of his old friend. He had already given them occasional supplies drawn from various quarters; but being indisposed to biographical labour himself, or deeming it inconsistent with high ecclesiastical functions, he turned over the duty at different periods to four or five other persons. Their united inquiries passing from hand to hand from 1785 till 1801, furnished at length but the loose elements of a life, mainly from the personal recollections of his lordship, and such anecdotes as his birthplace and relatives could very inadequately supply,[5]
The year 1785 seems to be a blank in his record of anecdotes. He was, however, diligent in pursuit of notations on the text of Shakspeare; and among others heard that Horace Walpole, then ill of the gout in Berkeley Square, indulged his taste that way. To an application for the favour of their perusal, he replies in February: “They are at Strawberry Hill, and till he removes thither they cannot be got at, but as soon as that can be done he will look them out and send them to Mr. Malone.”
Some misunderstanding of the rules enforced in visiting his country retreat drew forth another letter of explanation to Malone, on the annoyances given and experienced by sight-seers. A show-house is not always a comfortable possession. Visitors sometimes expect their curiosity to be gratified even against rules; the owner, that his regulations shall be observed. If good nature prompt him to oblige a few, offence will probaby be taken by the many; and censure rather than praise be the result of an accommodating disposition. Of the discontented spirit of neighbours he gives a sketch in the letter alluded to, which is in a somewhat formal style:—
I am much obliged to you, sir, for the favour of your letter, to which I was extremely sorry to have given any occasion, and of which I beg you will give me leave to send you this account.
I live here in so numerous and gossiping a neighbourhood, that I am not only tormented daily by applications for tickets, but several persons have quarrelled with me for not complying with their demands. Nay, I have received letters reproaching me with indulging some of my particular friends with a greater latitude than four; for they are so idle as to watch and count the carriages at my gate. The very day you was here last, sir, a gentleman and his wife, who came from a neighbour’s, were in the house, and I knew would report that I had admitted six, if the carriages were seen; and yet, out of regard to you, sir, I could not think of disappointing your friends. You was extremely good to favour me; and I hope, by this relation, will see how much I am distressed, though very desirous of obliging. As numbers come to see my house whose names I do not even know, I must limit the number, and I offend if I break my rule. Therefore, last year, I printed those rules, and now should give still greater offence if I did not adhere to them; while the only advantage that accrues to myself is that my evenings are free, and that I keep the month of October for myself.
I beg your pardon, sir, for troubling you with this detail, but it was due to your politeness, and will, I hope, convince you that I am, sir, &c. &c.
Hitherto Steevens and Malone had gone on well together; but in the edition of Shakspeare superintended by Isaac Reed which appeared about this time, Malone had inserted some notes which controverted a few by Steevens, and gave offence. The latter wrote to him, desiring they should be retained in their then state whenever his own edition should appear, and he would reply to them. This Malone declined to promise, reserving to himself the right in his future book to alter or expunge anything of his own that further consideration should deem erroneous. But he should transmit to him such alterations before they went to press—that Mr. Steevens should have the privilege of answering them, which he (Malone) would print without reply. This very fair arrangement, with characteristic irritability, was declined. Thenceforward, the offended commentator said, all intercourse on the subject of Shakspeare should cease. It has been stated that among all the friendships of Steevens, not one but those of Dr. Farmer and Isaac Reed continued uninterrupted.
In June 1785, he had the satisfaction of seeing his brother raised to the Irish Peerage by the title of Baron Sunderlin of Lake Sunderlin in Westmeath. Richard had been many years in Parliament. So were several of the family during the preceding half century. Their general character stood high; they had filled some important positions; and the honour now conferred evinced desire to repair the injustice shown to one of the number, the eminent Anthony, by dismission from high office for voting patriotically, and as it afterwards appeared strictly constitutionally, against hasty measures of the Irish Ministry. The nephew already inherited the estate, and Baronston, the mansion of his uncle; and at length now gained what should have been the title of the latter. He had married in 1778, Philippa, elder daughter of Godolphin Rooper, Esq., of Berkhamstead.
With Joseph and Thomas Warton he kept up a brisk correspondence during the year. Their topics, as usual, literary and antiquarian—old poets, plays, interludes, epitaphs, sonnets, Venus and Adonis, Marlowe, Milton, Lord Southampton, and Shakspeare. How warmly to such things yearns the heart of an intelligent antiquary!
In this year likewise (1785) he had the pleasure of making a new acquaintance,—very soon transformed into a friend. This was Boswell; and the place of meeting no less appropriate—Baldwin’s printing-office while examining a proof-sheet of the Tour to the Hebrides. An intimacy ensued, which like most of the critic’s friendships continued undisturbed through life, though faults and follies scarcely attempted to be concealed impaired respect for his new companion. To many the now renowned biographer appeared then a jumble of contradictions—sense and nonsense, shrewdness and good humour, cunning and simplicity, vanity, yet with kindness and generosity; a tone of flattery to the great in order to make way in the world, combined with feelings of rectitude and firm regard to truth in biographical statements. Few gave him credit during life for the talents he really possessed. He puzzled even Dr. Johnson, who while in Scotland wrote of his companion “that he possessed better faculties than I had imagined.”
The devotion shown to the great moralist has perhaps tended to diminish the respect due to the writer of his life. He made him almost too sincerely the hero of worship; never for a moment swerved from his allegiance; sought him at all hours; evinced reverence in every way; and submitted patiently to reproofs which were ungracious even if deserved. The follower kissed the rod, and has not hesitated to confess the punishment; he had a fixed purpose in view, and therefore, much to our advantage and to his own fame, “stooped to conquer.” For this deference toward great knowledge, pre-eminent abilities, and moral worth, he has been denounced with extravagant violence as if guilty of a moral offence. Hard names have been freely applied to what has unquestionably proved to be disinterested attachment. Yet who has contributed so much to our amusement? Where shall we find in our own or any other language one who has shown equal talent and industry in recording so much wit, wisdom, and acquaintance with life for the instruction and amusement of mankind? Such a book is not the product of chance. He had no model to follow; but with that happiness of thought, which if it does not imply genius certainly falls little short of it, struck out one for himself. As there has been but one Johnson, so there certainly is but one Boswell. He stands alone in the plan and execution of a work which has won the admiration of every description of reader.
Malone, who appears to have mentioned Boswell’s design to a Dublin correspondent so early as 1787, became more impressed in his favour by the reply. Unluckily the name is detached from the letter; but this Irish friend appears to have had keen insight into character, and evidently figured among the higher class of literary men of that city.
“You will think me very passive that I should never have read the illustrious Hawkins,[6] but I have seen so many extracts and criticisms that I am no stranger to his merits. . . . . Boswell’s work I am anxious for. I will answer for it we may depend upon his fidelity. I knew him intimately many years ago when he was in Dublin. He had not then appeared as an author; he was an amiable, warmhearted fellow, and there was a simplicity in him very engaging.”
A writer upon the life and works of Shakspeare must take interest in the performers as well as in productions of the modern stage. Among the former, John Kemble took the lead. About 1783, Malone selected him as a man of education and gentlemanly manners, with whom a few agreeable hours could be spent on their favourite topics. The actor understood the value of such an acquaintance, and soon learned to esteem his amiable private qualities. Pleasant dinners, amid amusing and intelligent companions, gave zest to their discussions; and among Malone’s letters is an apology from Mrs. Siddons, who cannot fulfil a previous dinner engagement to him by the unexpected arrival of two dear friends from abroad. A note from her brother to the critic at this time (March, 1786) postpones a friend’s dinner invitation while jesting upon the fate of an unlucky play—forgetting that what proved sport to him was dramatic death to the luckless author. He was a clergyman, Dr. Delap, once curate to Mason, the poet, and whose name occurs in his letters to Gray. He wrote no less than seven tragedies. Three were represented and failed. The others only escaped from a country printing-office to pass into immediate and total oblivion. Who may not admire the perseverance of such an author? Yet who venture to exhibit such devotion to ill-success?
Dear Sir,—I will send Mr. Byng word, very early in the morning, that I hope he will excuse me to-morrow, and command me to wait on him either Wednesday or Friday next week, as you find it most convenient.
The Captives were set at liberty last night, amidst roars of laughter.[7] I see the doctor publishes it this week. If his reverence should be severe, the best thing that we can hope is, that all who read the preface may read the play.
Cadell bought this sublime piece before it appeared, for fifty pounds, agreeing to make it a hundred on its third representation. It has been played three times, and I dare say old Sanctimony will have no remorse in taking the other fifty.
Two or three notes from Walpole occur early in this year. He had forgotten to execute some commissions for Malone, and pleads seventy years in excuse. One of these was a deed connected with the theatre or with Shakspeare, in the possession of Mrs. Garrick at Hampton, which he wished to inspect through the intervention of that gentleman. Another is of more interest by its reference to Vertue’s remains, and the interest taken by Malone in Lord Roscommon the poet, part of whose estate, it will be remembered, fell into his possession:—
Mr. Walpole sends his compliments to Mr. Malone, and assures him he has looked for the source whence he mentioned a picture of Lord Roscommon by Carlo Maratti, but cannot find it. He concludes it was some note of Vertue; but at the distance of so many years cannot be sure. All Vertue’s memorandums were indigested, and written down successively as he made them in forty volumes, often on loose scraps of paper, so it is next to impossible to find the note; nor, were it found, does it probably contain more than Mr. Walpole has copied into the Anecdotes.
The same correspondent in a morning’s conversation, gave him the following account of a celebrated quarrel:—
“Mr. Horace Walpole, who sat with me some time this morning (Jan. 28, 1786), gave a particular account of the origin of his letter to Rousseau in 1765, which in fact was the occasion of the quarrel between that madman and David Hume. He happened to be at the house of a French lady in Paris with Helvetius, who observed that Rousseau seemed to court persecution. Mr. Walpole said that if he would go to Berlin, the King of Prussia would persecute him as much as he pleased. On this thought, he afterwards sat down and wrote a French letter in the name of the King of Prussia to Rousseau. The lady was delighted with it; and copies, as is often the case in Paris, flew through the town rapidly. Mr. Walpole was invited everywhere, and the devotees particularly paid court to him as espousing the cause of religion against philosophy. He had even invitations from several Abbesses; but at last they made so much noise about a small matter, that he grew tired and thought it ridiculous. There were two faults in the French of his original letter, which the Duke do Nivernois and Helvetius pointed out to him, and they were corrected.
“Mr. Hume happened to lodge in the same hotel with Mr. Walpole, and often proposed to introduce Rousseau to him; but as author of a paper written to ridicule him, he thought it would be unhandsome to suffer Hume to make their acquaintance. A few days afterward Hume and Rousseau left Paris for London, when the letter in question having got in some of the French Mercures, was printed in an English newspaper.[8] Rousseau aware of Hume and Walpole being friends; that Hume was secretary to Lord Hertford, cousin to Walpole; and that he had often been with Walpole at the time this letter first appeared, suspected that Hume had some hand in the publication. But Mr. Walpole assured me he never showed it to Hume; and publication arose solely in consequence of many copies being handed about. Rousseau could not divest himself of this suspicion. Hence the origin of his subsequent quarrel with Hume. The latter became so distressed on the occasion, that he requested Walpole to write him a letter, avowing sole authorship in the offensiv piece, which he did.
“This acknowledgment was published by D’Alembert in his account of the dispute between Rousseau and Hume. Mr. Walpole complained to me that Hume had garbled his letter, for it began: ‘Your friends, the literati, have acted like fools as literati generally do;’ but this paragraph was suppressed.
“Such was Mr. Walpole’s acount; but the true solution of the quarrel is that Rousseau was mad.—M.”
In the spring, Lord Sunderlin, his lady, and sisters, reached London on their way to the Continent. Edmond and his family delighted in each other; but as he could seldom visit Ireland without impeding the progress of the “book,” so he could not be tempted to participate in their excursion. Catherine however gave him an occasional journal of proceedings, and in one of her letters from Nice where several Irish friends had made a halt, gives an alluring sketch of the spot, still with the hope of drawing the critic from his task and his home.
“Both she” (Henrietta, usually called Harriet, her elder sister) “and Lady Sunderlin like the place extremely. Indeed it is an absolute paradise. A thousand paths we have to walk, and for miles without an inclosure, in the midst of orange-trees and all kinds of sweet shrubs. If the lower rank of people properly enjoyed their situations, they would be much above us, for most of their cottages are placed in the most beautiful and delightful spots that can be conceived. But their inhabitants see not as we do, and wonder at us for admiring them.”
With the ruling passion strong within him, Lord Charlemont, as usual, solicits his good offices in the acquisition of books, negotiations with booksellers, and occasional criticism:—
“Your acquisition for me is magnificent, and what is still better than magnificence though seldom allied to it, extremely cheap. You are certainly the best book-jockey that ever existed. I long to see my new old treasure, and expect it daily. Payne,[9] however, has not been quite as active as you have been, for I do not find that he sends some of the principal on my list. The best quarto of Dante is surely to be had in London.
“Have you endeavoured to make Elmsley send me a complete third volume of Petrarch, instead of the imperfect one I had from him? You see how I tease you, but you may thank your own goodness for my unreasonable importunity. . . . . I have the nineteen volumes in large paper of Provost’s Hist. de Voyages; but imagined that a supplement had been published. . . . . My old and dear friend Burke, after having made us happy by his unexpected arrival, has now made us as miserable by too speedy departure.”
A succeeding letter from his lordship is filled with Shakspearian details. Among the doubtful plays he would have Pericles stand first, as showing undoubted evidence of the hand of Shakspeare; and Titus Andronicus last, as having little of the master. A hint had been previously dropped to his noble friend, of doubts as to Shakspeare’s share in the three parts of Henry VI., and his design of writing a dissertation on the authorship. The reply then was that the creed of his lordship on the subject was not finally settled. He now says: “The more I consider it, the more confident I am in opinion that they were not originally written by Shakspeare. The second part has most of him, though even here much of the tragick wants that peculiar colour which even in his worst writing is always discernible. Jack Cade is certainly his. Much of the third part is strongly marked for his own, and I really think that with due attention to all these plays, one might with tolerable certainty select his gold from the dross of the original writer.”
The examination of the three plays in question appeared duly in the edition. Theobald and Warburton had deemed them spurious. Johnson and Steevens thought otherwise. Farmer did not believe them originally written by Shakspeare; and Malone, after entering thoroughly into the question, arrived at the same conclusion. To do this, however, cost him much study and no slight critical sagacity. Whoever reads his dissertation appended to those plays will see, that not content with ordinary assurance, he enters heart and soul into the work of solving difficulties which had perplexed or mastered men of no small reputation, yet still remained matters of doubt.
He appears to prove that all three plays came originally from other hands. The first our great poet touched but lightly; the second and third he new-modelled, added to, altered, and in part rewrote, rendering such traces of the master as left no doubt of the infusion of his spirit into both. The inquiry extends to nearly fifty closely printed pages; for he had made up his mind not to be repelled or foiled; and that others should be as fully convinced as himself. He thus, among others, satisfied Professor Porson—the least practicable man of his day perhaps—that, in his own words, “he considered the essay on the three parts of Henry the Sixth as one of the most convincing pieces of criticism that he had ever read.”
- ↑ It will be remembered he had been struck off the list of both countries.
- ↑ Sir Robert went to Richmond with such speed that he killed two of his coach-horses by fatigue.
- ↑ “I was exceedingly astonished at what you told me concerning the charge brought by Dr. Calder at this late day against Dean Swift, and thought with you it was most incredible and absurd. And yet, yesterday, chance procured me an unexpected opportunity of inquiring into it.
“At Dromore church appeared a genteel clergyman, a stranger. I invited him to dine with me. After dinner he said he possessed the prebend in the adjoining diocese of Connor, which was the first ecclesiastical preferment of Swift—the prebend and parish of Kilroot—which he was believed to have held with another small vicarage called Maghera Moran in the same diocese and near Kilroot. He told me that when Swift came to take possession of these two benefices given or procured him by Lord Capel, about 1694 or 1695, he, with that odd humour that always distinguished him, entered the house of a neighbouring vicar, a Mr. Winder, and without ceremony took up his quarters there, living with him a whole year without offering payment for his board, &c. He at last took French leave, nor did his host know whither he had gone, till he received a letter from him from Dublin, saying he had resigned the vicarage and procured the presentation of it for him. This anecdote the relator told me he had from a near relation of Mr. Winder’s, who outlived Swift thirty years, and died at Lisburn at an advanced age in 1774 or 1775.” Here follows the story of the alleged attempt of Swift to commit a rape in his parish, brought forward by Dr. Calder; but which, upon minute investigation, turned out an idle rumour. The refutation is in the Gentleman’s Magazine for 1790, p. 189.
- ↑ Preface to Life of Goldsmith, 2 vols. 8vo, 1837.
- ↑ This imperfect tribute to the genius of the poet could not be deemed satisfactory to any of his admirers. One of his townsmen (Reverend John Graham, late rector of Tamlaghtard in the diocese of Derry), also a poet and friend of the writer of the present work, suggested to him to furnish, if possible, a full and satisfactory biography, with such circumstances as time had revealed, and inquiry should trace during a career much of which remained little known. The proposal was adopted. I made excursions to his native spot; to Athlone, Ballymahon, Longford, and their vicinities, where relations were found who contributed a variety of original matter. In Dublin and London equal diligence discovered much more. Several letters, occasional verses, essays, prefaces, tracts, introductions, agreements with booksellers were found; added to bills of board and lodgings, tailors’ bills, with the prices received for copyrights and various small performances. Several things not known to be his, amounting to more than fills an octavo volume, and printed in my edition of his works, 1837, I first discovered. Others of doubtful origin were ascertained. In short, I found a loose sketch of a life, of something more than a hundred pages; and by zealous research added nearly a thousand more of original matter. I shall not here allude to the unwarrantable piracies to which all its contents, without exception, have been subjected.
- ↑ Life of Dr. Johnson.
- ↑ The Captives: a Tragedy, by John Delap. Brought out at Drury Lane, March 9th, 1786.
- ↑ See it in Saint James’s Chronicle.
- ↑ The Bookseller.