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THE
AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF WILLIAM JERDAN.
- Author of “The National Portrait Gallery,” 4 vols., 4to; “Voyage to the Isle
of Elba,” 8vo.; “The Paris Spectator,” 3 vols., 12mo; “The Rutland
Papers,” 4to; “The Perth Papers,” 4to, &c. &c. &c.
*...* The Portrait by T. Stewardson, which I consider the best likeness,
has been most kindly re-touched by, and engraved under the direction of,
the Artist, for this work. W. J.
Fºº,
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WILLIAM J. E. R. D.A.N.
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THE
AUTOBIOGRAPHY
OF
WILLIAM JERDAN,
M.R.S.L., corresponDING MEMBER of THE REAL ACADEMIA DE LA HISTORIA
of SPAIN, &c. &c.
WITH HIS
3%ittrarg, 4}olitical, amt, 50cial 3&cministentes and Correspottöttitt
DURING THE LAST FIFTY YEARS.
VOL. II.
LONDON :
ARTHUR HALL, VIRTUE, & Co., 25, PATERNOSTER ROW.
1852.
I.ONDON .
BRADBURY AND EVANs, PRINTERs, whitefri ARs.
Belicated to the ſūtmorg
OF
THE RIGHT HON. GEORGE CANNING :
MOST ADMIRABLE IN EVERY RELATION OF LIFE,
PUBLIC AND PRIVATE;
THE CONSISTENT STATESMAN, PURE PATRIOT, REFINED SCHOLAR,
ELoquENT ORATOR, AND BRILLIANT WIT;
DEVOTED TO HIS FRIENDS, GENEROUs To HIS FOES, CHIVALROUS TO ALL;
GREAT IN HIS NATIONAL VIEWS,
OPEN AND LIBERAL IN HIS UNIVERSAL POLICY, AND
NOBLE IN EVERY SENTIMENT OF HIS HEART |
A MAN
UPON WEIOM NATURE SET THE SEAL OF EVERY GRACEFUL ELEMENT .
AND ILLUSTRIOUS QUALITY;
IN LIFE BELOVED, AND IN DEATH DEPLORED, BY THE BRITISH PEOPLE,
TO WHOM HIS LOSS WAS AN IRREPARABLE CALAMITY.
EveR GRATEFUL FOR THE DISTINCTION OF HIS PERSONAL REGARD,
Qſìjig Eglume
IS INSCRIBED witH HIS RESPLENDENT NAME, By
W. JERIDAN.
August, 1852.
231362
CONTENTS.
Chap.
I.—THE PROFESSION OF LITERATURE . tº o ©
II.-MR. CANNING AND THE PRINCESS OF WALES tº º
III.--THE “SUN” – AUTUMN, 1814, RESUMED — MISCEL-
LANEOUS e & e & & o º
IV.-LIGHT MATTERS–LITERARY PURSUITS
W.—A MISFORTUNE . e º • - e
VI.-“SHREDS AND PATCHES ’’. & º o tº e
Page
19
31
44
WII.-WOLCANOES IN THE SUN : A CHARACTER s s
VIII.-INTERLUIDE WARIETIES e o e & * -
IX.-REFLECTIONS: “BEGAR, HERE'S MONSIEUR TONSON
COME AGAIN | * . s º º tº º
X.—ROBERT BURNS : A RATHER SCOTCH CHAPTER . .
XL-NOTES ON TIME FLYING . e e & º º
XII.-LITIGATION AND WEXATION º © º tº º
xIIL-THE “SUN” FINALE . e º - g &
96
110
124
137
154
viii CONTENTS.
Chap. Page
XIV.--THE “LITERARY GAZETTE * © º © . . 174
XV.-“LITERARY GAZETTE * TO THE CLOSE OF 1817 . 186
XVI—THE LATE JOHN TROTTER, ESQ. tº º . . 214
XVII.-“LITERARY GAZETTE * CONTRIBUTORS: POETS AND
POETRY . º & e º - te . 230
xvi.II.-POETs; POETRY-AUTHORS; ARTISTS-A PATRON . 242
XIX. — PETER PINDAR. © - º s - * . 262
XX. —LoRD MUNSTER ; LORD MELBOURNE; WASHINGTON
IRWING . - º º e - . . 281
XXI.—MY WRITINGS - e - - • º . 295
APPENDIX . & e e • • º & * & 309
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
PREEATORY CHAPTER.
—O-
THE PROFESSION OF LITERATURE.
No Delphic sage is wanted to divine
The shape of Truth beneath my passing line ;
Yet these are truths—like schoolmates, once well-known,
But half remembered, not enough to own—
That lost from sight in life's bewildering train,
May be, like strangers, introduced again;
Lully and Geber, and the learned crew,
That loved to talk of all they could not do.
“Astraea,” by Holmes, American Poet.
THE favourable reception which has been given to my
first volume by the almost unanimous voice of those critics
in whom the public reposes confidence, and the very small
portion of dissent, and generally on very small matters,
which has leavened the mass, would have afforded me no
occasion for any observations, except to express my grateful
feeling for the liberality and kindliness displayed, and my
sense of the ability with which several of the reviewers
have gone deeper than the surface, fairly and impartially
to trace the inner spirit of my purpose, and the objects it
WOL. II. B
2 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
seeks to subserve. But in one point of view I have been
so entirely mistaken by some of my critical contemporaries,
that I must take leave to offer a few words on the subject;
especially as it affects my whole argument, and is of deep
interest to the literary world. .
It has been held that my narrative, as far as it has gone
(the sequel being unknown), tends to the disparagement of
the literary class or “profession,” and has consequently
not only provoked the animadversions of members of that
class or “profession,” but the ruse of carrying the war into
the supposed enemy's quarters, and charging me with in-
gratitude where I ought to have been exceedingly thankful
for the success accorded to me.
“On their own merits, modest men are dumb ; ” and I
am not about to balance the account whether or not I have
received more or less than my deservings; such a con-
sideration is totally beside the question. For I have not
set up to glorify myself; but to write the Memoirs of one
whose whole life has been devoted to literature, not con-
cealing short-comings or errors, but as frankly and candidly
as possible recording them, to point a moral, even if, in
other respects, it should fail to adorn a tale. This is the
declared aim of my work, and I have not shrunk more from
the task (as is honestly remarked in the Messrs. Chambers's
review of it) than would be deemed justifiable in every
well-constituted mind, conscious of imperfections, the con-
fession of which ought to withhold the arm raised to throw
the first stone. If I had attempted to paint myself in false
and flattering colours, there would have been a tolerable ex-
cuse for censuring the picture and not sparing the original ;
but I humbly conceive that I have not committed so gross a
misrepresentation, and was therefore hardly amenable to the
inapplicable law of a personal and individual test. If I were
THE LITERARY PROFESSION, 3
writing a romance or a novel, I could make my principal
character suit the tastes of those who admire perfect heroes:
but I am endeavouring to write the genuine life, and describe
the motives, springs of action, and reflections of a real human
being—a mixture of good and evil. I do not set up to teach
as a schoolmaster, but to tell the truth, and develope causes
and effects, as fairly as my philosophy can appreciate them,
so as to operate in the way of example. I am neither con-
cealing nor apologising for what may be wrong, nor boasting
of better qualities and laudable deeds. If, in the end, the
balance be sorely against me, I cannot help it now ; all
that I could ask would be candid construction from those
who are conscious of their own frailty and fallibility; and
as for the vilifications of the Holy Willies of the earth, I
am disposed to take, even from them, the blame that I
may deserve in a repentant spirit, and despise all the
rest.
In legitimate criticism the main and proper business of
the reviewer is with the writings before him ; and unless
the writer dogmatically parades himself, or inculcates
dangerous doctrines, there is not a syllable out of the work,
either about him or his history, which are within the
sphere of justifiable remark. Whether an author has been
gay and irregular, or a saint and a pattern, has very little
to do with his text. In teetotalism the most shocking
drunkard always becomes the greatest apostle of tem-
perance; and the old proverb says, “The greater the
sinner the greater the saint.” It is an unwholesome
principle, therefore, to attempt the rebuke of virtuous
precepts, merely because they may be uttered by some one
who may not have fulfilled the duties of the decalogue: it
is a mode of judging that must be condemned. Perhaps,
however, I admit in my case it may be more allowable, if the
- B 2
4 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
parties are so inclined, than it could be under other
and more usual circumstances ; because I have not under-
taken the onerous responsibility of training others “in
the way they should go,” but to lay before the world—
and particularly the literary world—such a retrospect of
facts, as far as my experience enables me, as to throw
some light upon the evils to which they are exposed, the
temptations which attend, the seductions which beset them,
and the good they may perform in spite of the ill which is
their human lot.
I am not so stupid as to expect from sanguine youth
a general concurrence in all the maxims of sobered age,
and though the truism is obvious enough, and I may regret
with one of my friendly critics that certain “happy ideas”
did not occur to me “rather at the commencement than at
the close of my career,” I must confess that I consider
such idiosyncrasy a phenomenon more to be desiderated
than expected. I have heard something of the impossibility
of putting an old head on young shoulders ; and even
were it possible, I should look upon the hybrid monster as a
very disagreeable, ugly, and unnatural production of Nature
I should like to lay the unction to my soul that it is, never-
theless, only a slight approximation to this ancient-pated con-
dition on juvenile props, which has led to the misconception
of my meaning in regard to “disparaging the profession of
literature; ” and resentment and reproof for the offence.
The gist of my statements and reasonings from first to last
has been, is, and will be the very reverse of this 1 I main-
tain that literature is neither appreciated, encouraged, nor
honoured as it ought to be ; and that its professors (if
dependent altogether upon it) are liable to worse usage and
more misfortune than any other intellectual class in our
social scheme. To those of my brethren who are not far
THE LITERARY PROFESSION. 5
advanced on the road, and are perfectly satisfied with their
progress and position, I have only to wish from my heart,
the continuance of their contentment and the permanency of
their condition, and that God may speed them to the end of
their course, without affording them cause to look back
with regret upon any part of it. May they be taught to
avoid the commission of such errors as examples might
suggest, and escape the accidental misfortunes and the
injuries which are too common to their less lucky and self-
complacent compatriots. In short, I hope they may be
exceptions to the rule, which all my experience has inclined
me to believe to be almost invariable as regards the literary
“profession,” and inseparable from its pursuit and practice
in this country.
It was but yesterday I heard it gravely maintained, and
by no uninfluential authorities, that the having produced a
beauteous work of fiction, developing the inmost recesses
and workings of human nature, the very essence of the
philosophy of life, was proof that the author was unfit for public
employment, and destitute of the qualifications necessary
to form a statesman. What these qualifications, therefore,
are, it is out of my power to divine, seeing that knowledge
of mankind, admirable penetration, and astute discrimi-
nation, do not enter into the composition ; but I merely
note the objection to show how inimical, to the progress of a
highly gifted individual, the possession of pre-eminent literary
faculties are accounted. Deny it who may, there is a very
general jealousy and fear attached to the literary character,
which is anything but pleasant or beneficial to authors, in
the usual run of worldly affairs. -
What then has my biography said or done to expose it
to the groundless charge which calls forth these observa-
tions. Let me repeat: it submits the lesson and experience
6 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
of a long literary life, now verging to its close. It
will exhibit the blunders, the follies, the indulgences,
and other features incident to the busy lives of all men ;
and is too late either to model or mend. It cannot be
lived over again (and it is very far from being wished that
it should, if it could); but its candid history may warn
others to avoid some errors and pursue wise and provident
courses. In everything it is amenable to the same laws,
physical and moral, as the lives of other mortals; but it
is in its literary peculiarities that I am anxious to demon-
strate the differences, by showing the evils to which the
author, the man dependent upon literature, is exposed,
the enjoyments and the disappointments which await his
career, the injustice and wrongs he is doomed (and
must lay his account) to meet with—the trials and troubles
which attach to him only as the consequence of his
pursuits—the abstraction of his mind from the needful
details of accurate business, and its aptness to seek
refuge from dull realities in the brighter idealities of
imagination as the result ; and his often blameable inatten-
tion, impunctuality, and want of order, which leave him
almost a helpless prey, to be preyed upon by the sordid, the
grasping, the scheming, and the rascally, who are not slow
to take full advantage of their opportunities to plunder and
defame their victims.
I have found it so, and I immolate myself for a beacon.
If in so doing I expose my individual mishaps more than a
prudent and selfish reserve would dictate, I thereon found a
claim, not quite of exemption from severe interpretation,
but upon generous feelings (referring to the breast within)
to find as much excuse as they can, and not seek advantage
from my history to make me out worse than I am. But
above all, I require it to be kept in sight that my opinion on
THE LITERARY PROFESSION. 7
this important question is not drawn solely from myself; but
on the contrary, from the fate of the multitude I have
witnessed struggle and perish around me in the unequal
strife. My own case might almost seem an exception, in
consequence of the position to which it raised me ; but
still the misfortunes which attended it, as my narrative will
show, were attributable to its literary occupation, and
therefore fall properly and justly within the scope of my
argument.
To the youthful and earnest upholders of the dignity of
their literary condition, I would as earnestly offer my counsel
to take heed lest they fall. If only the improvident and
misconducted fail, let them show me the provident and the
discreet who have succeeded. A catalogue of such would,
indeed, astonish me. Surely it cannot be contended that
all the unsuccessful are careless, extravagant, reckless,
vicious ! Thousands, and tens of thousands, of aching
hearts and broken-down fortunes, alas! are but too easily to
be found to vouch for the fidelity of my descriptions, and
the dismal force of my opinions.
But let it be understood that it is not the fault of litera-
ture—that source of solace, even in misery, and of gratifica-
tion in every phase of existence,—that its apostles are thus
visited and punished. Compare with them the fate of
gentlemen, perhaps retired officers from the two services,
who may be induced, at a mature period of their lives, to
enter into trade. Who have ever witnessed one among
fifty of them succeed in business? I have not ; but, just
on the contrary, have seen them as unlucky and squeezable
by their more cunning competitors, to the manner born, as
the literary man. Acute, clever, diligent, they have not
been brought up to it, and are unaware of what its profitable
cultivation requires. Impositions of every kind beset them
8 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
in the unequal strife; and, like the others, the great majo-
rity of them struggle and sink.
O ! would some Power the giftie gie us,
To see oursels as ithers see us;
It would frae mony a blunder free us
And foolish notion.
What airs and graces, and a” would lea' us,
And e'en devotion 1
MR. CANNING AND THE PRINCESS OF WALES. 9
CHAPTER II.
— —
MR. CANNING AND THE PRINCESS OF WALES.
Nobility of blood
Is but a glittering and fallacious good;
The nobleman is he whose noble mind
Is filled with inborn worth; unborrow'd from his kind.
I HAD been slightly acquainted with Mr. Canning for
some years previous to the date at which my first volume
closed, but various circumstances, deeply gratifying to me,
conspired about this time to advance this condition into an
intimacy which has been the delight and pride of my life.
My residence was close at hand, and every Sunday after
church I was expected at Gloucester Lodge. If the weather
was fine, we walked for an hour or two in the garden ; if
wet, we sat and conversed in the library, of the aspect of
which the Vignette (from a drawing by Mr. Fairholt) is now,
perhaps, the only memorial, as the house has been recently
taken down, and the materials sold, to make room for new
buildings on the site and grounds made imperishably classic
by the presence of a Canning, and the resort of the eminent
persons who continually circled round this brilliant centre of
attraction:—statesmen, poets, painters, philosophers, wits;
men of all ranks and degrees, who had aught to recommend
them to notice, and were invited to enjoy themselves in the
light of his genius and the enchantment of his conversation.
10 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
Never was simplicity and playfulness more marvellously
united with profundity and firmness. His tone of voice was
sweetness itself; his manner most courteous, bland, and
conciliating; yet, let a baseness affront his mind, and his
eyes flashed with indignant fire, mingling, in a way not to
be described, the expressions of detestation and contempt.
With almost feminine softness of feeling he combined in the
highest measure the punctilious honour of chivalry and the
gigantic strength of heroism. His was a character to be
studied in every symbol and development ; and the more it
was studied, the more to be admired and beloved. Seeing
so much of him as I did, and enjoying so much of his con-
fidence, is it to be wondered at that my attachment was
unbounded ? I solemnly declare that, had it been possible,
in 1827, to add years to his life by taking them from mine,
I would have made the sacrifice with heartfelt exultation.
That he penetrated this sentiment I cannot doubt ; for I
do not remember that I ever presumed to pay him a com-
pliment, except where my opinions as a public journalist
were stated in defending him from the attacks to which he
was so much exposed, or justifying his policy and acts,
which it was my good fortune to be able conscientiously to
do throughout his whole career. Under such circumstances,
utter sincerity was a natural and certain result ; and out of
this grew our bond of union and friendship. It might be
chance or position which threw me in his way ; but, how-
ever it happened, he entertained an idea that it was useful
for a politician and a minister to learn as much as he could
of the opinions of various classes of the community upon the
measures of Government, and other subjects of interest to
the country; and he was aware that I mixed much in the
society of intelligent men of every description—literary,
agricultural, mercantile, professional, busy and idle.
MR. CANNING AND THE PRINCESS OF WALES. 11
Founded on this was his desire to have such frank and
candid colloquies with me ; and which he nobly repaid me by
equal unreserve and cordiality. Let any one imagine the
happiness of this I was flattered by the thought that I
was rendering some service to the man I so dearly loved ;
and his communications to me in return exalted me into the
consciousness of being one of the best-informed individuals in
the empire. There were few things beyond the limits of
cabinet secresy which were not freely confided to me. Who
could help exulting in such intercourse ? I look back upon
it across the valley of the shadow of death, and yet it is
bright with sunshine whose reflection warms my soul!
As a slight proof of the nature of our conferences, I may
mention that on some occasion (I do not recollect what) I
must have stated something unpalatable to Mr. Canning ;
for a day or two afterwards I met Mr. William Dundas, the
member for Edinburgh, who took me to task for my plain-
spokenness, after the fashion of Lear with Kent, and told me I
had been too blunt. I defended myself on the plea of sincere
regard and truth, which I was sure would be better liked than
reserve or concealment; and his remark was, “Well, you
at any rate use a privilege which I, though so near a rela-
tion, would not venture to extend so far, for fear of offence.”
It struck me that I must have trespassed, and the matter
had been spoken of to Mr. Dundas; which indeed it had
been, but, as Mr. Canning was good enough shortly after
to tell me, with praise of the spirit which had dictated my
conduct in all I ever said or did with him.*
* As Lady Randolph rather strongly expresses it, L
$ineerity,
Thou first of virtues, let no mortal leave
Thy onward path, although the earth should gape,
And from the gulf of hell, destruction cry
To take dissimulation's winding way.
12 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
At this period the arrangements for Mr. Canning's mission
to Lisbon, after the approaching prorogation of Parliament,
were entered into, and underwent several modifications,
both on family reasons and political grounds. The delicate
health of his son rendered a sojourn in a warm climate
desirable, and the uncertainty of the relations between the
Brazils and Portugal caused a difficulty as to the official
character in which the appointment to the Court should be
made out. These points furnished plenty of topics for the
Opposition press to inveigh against the embassy and the
ambassador, or plenipotentiary, or whatever the name might
be, and his allowances. The powers of eloquence, withering
sarcasm, and hardly more tolerable ridicule, with which his
speeches in the House of Commons abounded, were not
easily to be forgotten or forgiven by those upon whom they
were inflicted ; and no opportunity was ever lost of assailing
him with bitter hostility. Gross misrepresentations were
also employed to swell the list of his offences; and thus the
Lisbon mission served its purpose for a prolonged series of
attacks, which were, indeed, continued till after his return,
and the debate on the subjeet. Connected with this it will
be appropriate to mention here (rather than a year hence,
in the order of time) that, from the wording of the notice, it
could not be foreknown whether the general policy of the
measure or the personal conduct of the individual was to be
censured ; and it was agreed that, in the former case, Lord
Castlereagh, in the latter, Mr. Canning, was to answer the
mover, Mr. Whitbread. I was asked to hear and make
notes of the debate, which I did ; and went home, after it
was over, to Old Brompton with Mr. Canning, who assured
me that the votes of Sir James Macintosh and Mr. (Con-
versation) Sharpe gave him greater pain than all the rest
of the votes of the minority put together. I never could
MR. CANNING AND THE PRINCESS OF WALES. 13
gather what was the cause of this extreme sensibility ; and
could only infer that he had, in some bygone days, laid
these two gentlemen under obligations, and was stung by a
sense of their ingratitude, without making the allowance to
which every one has a right if he acts upon his proper
convictions. But, as I have observed, the chivalrous was
a marked feature in the temperament of Mr. Canning, which
will supply the most probable explanation of the whole of
his proceedings in regard to the Princess of Wales (into an
early account of which I have now partly to enter), as
well as his anxious provision for his political friends before
he would accept the Portuguese embassy.
It will be remembered, that in May 1814, the Princess of
Wales was forbidden to present herself at the Queen's
drawing-room, in consequence of an objection from the Prince
Regent, who must of necessity be there, and refused to
meet his wife “for reasons of which he alone could be the
judge.” The Queen was thereupon placed in a dilemma, and
obliged to communicate the unwelcome intelligence to her
Royal Highness, who acquiesced in the decision “out of
personal consideration for her Majesty,” but peremptorily
insisted on the fact, that as she had been pronounced innocent
on the investigation against her, she would not be treated as
guilty, and demanded of the Queen to state this to the distin-
guished visitors who attended. From this public outbreak,
the Princess became more than ever a political engine in the
hands of the Opposition to gall and depreciate the Regent.
It was endeavoured to increase her popularity, and in the
same degree diminish that of her husband ; and the country
was in a favourable condition for the diffusion and adoption of
these views. The question therefore assumed a prominence
of State importance, which was but too well calculated to
agitate, and, I may add, demoralise the population, though
14 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
not then to the extent it did at a later period. When
Lord Castlereagh proposed a provision of 50,000l. a-year,
Mr. Whitbread unexpectedly produced a letter from her
Royal Highness, declaring that 35,000l. was all she would
accept from an overburthened people, and acknowleged that
he was her adviser in this step for popularity. The matri-
monial quarrel thus became a national business, and party
was armed with a powerful instrument to work its way
either for the gratification of revenge or ambition. That
the Princess suffered much we can confidently affirm, both
from the hostility of the Prince, and the pain of being made
a tool for factious ends. She felt that she was forsaken
where she had a right to expect support ; and that she was
supported elsewhere, not for her own sake, but as the means
of annoyance to her husband, respecting whom, if she had
no cause to care for his welfare, it was at any rate despicable
to be employed as a thorn in his side. In this situation
it was not surprising that she should soon become a frequent
visitor to Gloucester Lodge, and seek from the loyal
friendship of Mr. Canning that counsel and aid which
no other quarter offered to her pitiable case. To his
sympathy the unfortunate Princess could not appeal in
vain, and like the illustrious Knight without fear and without
reproach, he undertook her cause, reconciled her to herself,
and brought the sad affair to as auspicious an issue as
was then within the compass of human exertion. The
nature of their conferences may be surmised from the circum-
stances I am about to relate. On going to the Lodge on a
Sunday afternoon as customary, I observed the Princess's
carriage at the door; and was hesitating whether I should
go in or not, when Mr. Canning led her out and handed
her to her seat, beckoning me to enter by another passage.
A glance informed me that something of unusual interest
MR. CANNING AND THE PRINCESS OF WALES. 15
had taken place, for the Princess appeared flushed to
crimson, and Mr. Canning exceedingly moved. I pro-
ceeded into the room, and walking up to the fire-place,
stood leaning my arm on the chimney-piece, when the
latter returned in a state of extreme excitement and agita-
tion, exclaiming (in a manner more resembling a stage
effect than a transaction in real life), “Take care, sir, what
you do | Your arm is bathing in the tears of a Princess l’”
I immediately perceived that this was the truth, for her
Royal Highness had been weeping plenteously over the very
marble spot on which I rested ; and it was on this day that
she came to the resolution to leave England. Poor lady,
many a flood of tears she shed ; and in her affliction was
wont to exclaim, “God bless the good old King, and (pausing)
I ought also to pray God bless Mr. Canning !” By his
advice, and the advice of Lord Leveson Gower, she now
determined to travel from the land where her position was
so distressing. In so doing she gave much offence to
Mr. Whitbread and the party who had espoused her cause,
and was loudly blamed by them for her desertion. But
when we look upon her unhappy condition in every respect,
I think there can be only one opinion, that the severance
from them and the inhospitable soil, was the only course
she could pursue suited to her own dignity and comparative
peace of mind. The Jason frigate, the Hon. Captain
King, having been ordered for the service, with the Rosario
sloop, Captain Peake, in attendance, she sailed on the 9th
of August, landed at Cuxhaven on the 15th, on her way to
Brunswick, having in her suite Lady E. Forbes, Lady C.
Lindsay, Sir William Gell, Colonel St. Leger, Mr. Craven,
Capt. Hess, and Dr. Holland. The accounts at the time
described her as considerably distressed, even to fainting,
on quitting the English shore; but she was constitutionally
16 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
blessed with high spirits, and rallied so speedily that on the
12th, the Prince's birthday, she toasted his health, and before
the vessel reached Cuxhaven joined in the dance on the deck
with Sir William Gell and her cheerful companions. The
toiled bird had been liberated from its cage; and the
reaction was naturally immediate as it skimmed the blue
sea in beautiful weather, free upon the wing !
There can be no doubt that in this affair Mr. Canning was
partly influenced by political considerations, involving the
tranquillity of the country, the removal of a serious
source of injurious scandal, and the contentment of the
reigning sovereign, so long harassed by the conflict; in whose
breast, as I shall have occasion to relate in a future page
of this Memoir, he implanted a grateful memory which was
not impaired by his noble refusal to take any part in the
accusations and bill of pains and penalties afterwards
brought against the Queen, over whom, as Princess, he had
thus thrown the shield of his affectionate sympathy and
manly protection.
Preparing for his voyage to Portugal, with the intention
of remaining a year in that country, it was a great relief to
him when he had so satisfactorily accomplished this object.
It seemed as if a weight had been taken off his head and
heart; his conversation resumed its usual cheerfulness and
vivacity; and the trying scenes of misery and grief were
happily banished from Gloucester Lodge.
At this time I had experienced a peculiar trait of
Mr. Canning, which it may be amusing to record, and
deemed somewhat characteristic. Near the beginning of
our acquaintance, when we met in the Old Brompton lanes,
he used, on giving me his hand, to place in mine only one,
or occasionally two, of his fingers, and this I have reason to
know was his general habit with those with whom he was
MR. CANNING AND THE PRINCESS OF WALES. 17
not on more intimate terms ; for Mr. Dundas, of whom I
have spoken before, observed to me that I was becoming a
great favourite, and had already got to three fingers | Such
had been the case till now ; when, having found out the
value of the prize, I was not a little delighted to have the
whole hand of the man I so esteemed shaken with mine.
I assure you I was proud enough of the distinction ; which
few shared, except the Huskissons, the Freres, the Ellises,
the Backhouses, and other faithful and attached friends, the
associates of his unreserved and confidential hours, and
companions of those social enjoyments, the charms of which
no words can paint.
Although five years in advance, I will conclude this
chapter with a personal proof of this great man's regard
for so humble an individual as myself. I had asked him to
stand godfather to an infant son of mine (now the bearer of
his name, “George Canning,” in Bengal), and was in
painful suspense at having no answer, when I received the
following letter, which converted my annoying uncertainty
into pleasure :-
“Gloucester Lodge, Aug. 5, 1819.
“DEAR SIR,
“I am quite shocked, on looking over your letter
of the 31st to see that I omitted, in our conversation
yesterday, to advert to its more immediate object.
“The truth is, that I put your letter by, intending to
read it over again before I should see you, and that I had
unluckily left it among my papers in town, when you called
upon you [me] yesterday.
“I hope you have understood silence to mean consent, so
far as my consent was necessary ; and that you will have
the goodness to signify so much to me, and to accept my
best wishes on behalf of my young godson.
WOL. II. C
T 8 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
“I again beg you to believe that I am most truly sorry
for my inadvertence, and that I am, dear Sir,
“Your very sincere and faithful servant,
“GEO. CANNING.”
As a farther proof of the fine feeling and goodness of the
writer of this gratifying letter, I have to add, that he went
to Kensington Church himself, in order to authorise the
baptismal name to be properly registered in the parochial
book. -
* It is sometimes difficult, in cases of baptismal mistake, to induce
straightlaced clergymen to correct the errors. Thus I heard, whilst writing
this chapter, an anecdote of a baby whose parents were desirous that he
should bear the name of their friend, Mr. Peto. But the minister did
not hear it distinctly, and christened the child Peter ; nor could all the
persuasions afterwards urged in the vestry, when filling in the register, in-
duce him to alter the fiat. Peter he had baptised him, Peter he was,
Peter he must remain, and Peter he is to this day.
THE “SUN,” AND NEWSPAPER PRESS. 19
CHAPTER III.
— «» —
THE “SUN”—AUTUMN, 1814, RESUMED–
MISCELLANEOUS.
How much an Editor would lose, if he,
Abandoning mysterious incogs,
Wrote little “I” instead of mighty “We 1”
For when a man the public memory jogs
In a tremendous, slashing “leading article,”
To stamp upon the thunderbolt “Tim Scroggs
Would spoil its efficacy no small particle !
There is much wisdom in that same plurality,
It neutralises personal rascality,
And shrouds from scorn his individuality
| **
The Dutch have ta'en Holland/
The French thieves are flying,
Who have beat the whole world
Both in RUNNING and LYING.
THE review of a long life, my friends, is a grave business,
and if treated in the sombre colours which too largely
overshadow it, would be exceedingly dull. I have therefore
endeavoured to mingle the amusing with the serious, and
the light with the solid; and I have cause to rejoice that,
so far as I have gone, my attempt has met with such
general approbation. Some remarks have, nevertheless,
been made on the desultory character of my composition,
and the jumble of dates and topics, instead of proceeding
regularly in due order of time, or following out particular
subjects to the end. But the truth is that, from the nature
C 2
20 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
of the work, such a course was impossible. Many events
connect themselves after the lapse of years, and many
persons appear at different periods under entirely different
aspects, and altogether different circumstances. In the one
case there would be such a leaping backward and forward
as would be ludicrously confusing ; and in the other my
Autobiography would be nothing but a bundle of episodes.
For these reasons I must beg leave to go on according to my
own fashion—the only way in which I can go on—and to ask
indulgence for unavoidable incongruities and apparent
looseness in the chain, though not without a plan. To
arrange all my materials, big and little, in a perfectly
systematic order, would defy the ingenuity of the most
exigent of my critics. Portraits and anecdotes do not
depend on exact dates ; but are good for the 1st of April
in the year One, or for Christmas day, A.D. 50.
But to my critics, with one foul personal exception too con-
temptible for notice, I have nothing but thanks to return. My
first volume (as acknowledged in a preceding introductory
chapter, though written after this,) has passed favourably
enough through its trial, the verdict reminding me somewhat
of that on the other old woman, who was arraigned for stealing
a pair of boots, in the home county famous for calves, but
found “Not Guilty” by the Jury; and admonished by the
Bench to go away, and take care that she did not do
the like again Yet here I am at the Book, which is much
worse than the Boot affair, once more.
The “Sun,” as I have stated, was a strenuous Pitt and
high Tory journal; but it would be a very fallacious idea
to believe it to have been the mere obsequious tool of any
man or body of men. It gave and received support upon
principles thus truly enunciated by me on the 21st October,
1814:—“Our diurnal publications, of which there are
THE “sun,” AND NEWSPAPER PREss. 21
fifteen, eight morning and seven evening, may be divided
into three sorts:—1. The Ministerial, or such as generally
support the measures of Government; 2. The Opposition,
or such as generally arraign them ; and 3. The Neutral,
or such as proceed upon a declaration that they belong to no
party. To begin with the last : they are scarcely to be
distinguished ; for in this country, where the extremes of
opinion are not always enforced, and men lean occasionally,
more or less, from the side of the cause they commonly
espouse, to commend or condemn particular acts, it is not
easy to steer a middle course, which shall be remarkable
enough to merit a classification per se. Thus the inde-
pendent papers, as they call themselves, are only publications
a little more or a little less warm in their attachment to
Ministers, or to their Opponents.
“The ministerial papers (as they are called) are confined
to, at most, one-third of the fifteen ; their names it would
be unbecoming in us to particularise. Their nature is pre-
cisely this. Ministers do not control a single opinion they
contain, nor are they dictated to one iota either in their
general conduct or in their sentiments upon special occasions.
The connection existing between these papers and the
government is natural, and in no instance, we believe,
corrupt. Newspapers which have, from principle, advocated,
and continue to maintain, the excellency of that system
upon which the present administration, following the foot-
steps of the immortal Pitt, conduct the affairs of the
country, receive no reward for that independent support, if
that is not considered a reward which consists in occasional
information, which enables them at once to gratify the
public, and more effectually to do justice to all in the
accuracy of their statements.”
Such in truth was the condition of the London periodical
22 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
press at the period referred to ; and I am inclined to think
that it is pretty much the same now, though more divided
into organs of various parties. My own labour was a labour
of love ; but Tory as I was, my pen never ceased to exert
its dearest efforts to promote the comforts of the people—
the “masses” as they are now termed,—and so soon as grim-
visaged war had smoothed his wrinkled front, my predilection
for literature and the arts was shown by my commencing a
regular literary review of new publications in the pages of
the “Sun" (a pattern at length followed in every quarter);
and being one of the boldest and earliest, if not the very
earliest, champion for cheap bread, cheap food, and cheap
clothing for the poorer classes, and the downfall of war
prices, which enriched only one class, the agricultural,
including landlords and tenants
At the present day I may be excused for boasting of this
consistency. In alliance with Ministers or free, in con-
nection with the book-trade or on my own footing, wherever
the press was in my hands I never compromised its sacred
functions, but endeavoured with all my might so to
Play the enchanter's part
And scatter bliss around ;
That not a tear nor aching heart
Should in the world be found.
I trust I may be permitted to offer proof of this ;
by reference to my writings eight-and-thirty years ago.
George the Third was reluctant to sanction the appointment
of Sir James Macintosh to Bombay, and when the Premier
represented to his Majesty that Sir James' politics had
been greatly moderated, the King quaintly and sagaciously
observed, “Aye, aye, an honest man may change his
Opinions, aye, more than once—but mark me, never his
THE “sun,” AND NEWSPAPER PREss. 23
Principles.” I cordially assent to this truth, and though
it is so long since I mixed in the political melée, I look back
with satisfaction to those efforts which were invariably
addressed to ensure the welfare of the many throughout
the millions of population and every industrious class of the
community. Thus, at the period alluded to, when the
Corn Laws were discussed, and it was endeavoured in Par-
liament to keep up the exorbitant rate to which grain,
butcher's meat, and every other article of consumption had
arisen, I appealed, and wrote from day to day in the
following strain :-
“Every link in the chain of high prices obtains a little
more than is exactly just, in order completely to cover loss.
The importer sells sugar at 70s. which should be only 50s. ;
and so on throughout every species of internal produce, or
external acquisition, which can be named. Thus A. B.
pays 5l. for a coat, 5l. for colonial produce, and 5l. for
linen, which were corn cheap he might severally obtain for
little more than half these sums. There can be no doubt
that the price of all kinds of labour is regulated by the
price of sustenance—the workmen at the loom, in the field,
in the warehouse, must live—their families must be sup-
ported. If corn is dear, wages must of necessity be high,
and this state of things is felt in every branch and ramifica-
tion of our manufactures, every effort of industry, every
particle of produce, and every commodity imported. It
is confessed that we cannot raise provisions at so low a
rate as our continental competitors; but are we therefore,
of our own accord, to fix them so madly high as to render
it equally impossible for us to enjoy the advantage of our
superior skill and machinery, and meet them in the market
with our staple woollens, our Birmingham and Sheffield
wares, our wrought and unwrought ores, our cottons, and
2
4 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
all our productions of mechanical process and well-applied
industry. Such would ensue from the proposed measures
required by the mistaken men who are attempting to make
us believe, contrary to sense and reason, that bread at
ls. 3d. the quartern loaf is necessary to our national
salvation. We dare not trust ourselves to follow out this
subject, nor do we desire it, for we are convinced that the
object in view can never be realised. Were it realised the
fate of Great Britain would be sealed, and her greatness
annihilated. The country could not survive the shock.
Soon would we be driven from every market on earth, and
our commerce would be nipped and perish in the bud. At
home people could not live, and emigration to foreign lands,
or disorders in our own, must inevitably ensue. Then,
when too late, the Land Owner would discover that it would
have been well for him, and happy for his country, had he
suffered the prime necessary of life, like all other things, to
find its natural level, and as nearly as possible flow back to
that wholesome bound which existed before this tremendous
war raised him at the expense of his fellow citizens.”—The
Sun, September 24th, 1814.
“We lament every accession of price put upon the
necessaries of life.”—Idem, September 26th.
“The people deserve to be considered in everything, and
their welfare is paramount to the enjoyment of luxuries,
either by Land Owner or Merchant. Let them, we say,
have bread and every other article of consumption as cheap
as possible ; by this our wages will be lowered, and, of con-
sequence, our manufactures enabled to meet all competition
at the fair of Leipsic, or any other fair. We shall meet and
undersell our rivals at their own doors—the people will be
better able to pay the taxes which a heavy debt and great
expenditure demand—and the picture which our croakers
ADvoCACY OF THE PEOPLE's RIGHTs. 25
delight to draw will be entirely reversed. But if everything
is to be alike burthensome ; if we are indeed to have our
war taxes continued ; our Corn Laws established, so that
bread can never be cheap ; and our Warehousing Acts
perpetuated for ever, so that all merchandise shall retain its
exorbitant rate, then adieu to Britain's prosperity and
glory, and we may paint a state of being as gloomy as any
sham patriot can desire.”—Idem, November 11th.
And lastly—“Our sole object is the good of the nation;
and we shall be equally ready hereafter to protect to the
utmost of our humble abilities, the Agricultural against
any encroachments of the Commercial interests, as we have
been zealously anxious at this time to guard against what
we held to be unjustifiable pretensions of the former. We
want to have the produce of both at a cheap rate for the
People, and we know that manufactures cannot be cheap,
either for Home or Foreign consumption, if Corn be dear.
We want to descend gradually, and in a ratio consistent
with the burdens of the country, to a safe and healthful
state of prices in the body politic. Therefore we oppose
the perpetuation of the Corn War Charges.”
I assure my readers that I am neither quoting Mr. Cobden
nor Mr. Bright, nor Mr. Wilson, nor Mr. Fox, but the dicta
of the writer of this little book, before the party cry of Free
Trade was invented, or Protection had assumed that title.
But, in my vocation, I was not the less Tory editor
* And how steady these principles were, will be seen by the an-
nexed brief extract from a leading article on the Property Tax, in the
following year, viz: Nov. 18, 1815:—
“The Editor of the Sun is convinced that a well-modified Property Tax
is the most advisable measure of finance which can be adopted for this
nation in peace or in war, and is most anxious to see a right scale devised
for levying it ; a scale not descending too low to oppress the humble, nor
taxing casual profits like certain proceeds of real property; but, in short,
combining all the advantages which a happy theory can suggest.”
26 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
because I was a friend to the people. In that position I
argued, and fought, and squibbed, and abused, with the
hottest of my contemporaries. Poor Matthews's severe acci-
dent, Charles Dibdin's death, the famous Stock Exchange
hoax, the débùt of Miss O'Neill, Byron's marriage; nay, the
war in America and the grand Congress at Vienna, were all
seasoned with diatribes and jokes in prose and verse, as
occasion served; and the “Sun" shone blithely over the
Island. -
Thus, during the splendid Peace Jubilee, when rejoicings
and festivities were at their height, the following ballad of
mine was added to the merry score, August 5th :--
EVERY WHERE HAPPY.
FOUNDED ON THE ABOVE INSCRIPTION ON THE IMPERMAL COINAGE
of THE EMPERoR of ELBA 1 !!”
TUNE.—Maggy Lauder.
I
An Engineer-Lieutenant I;
At Brienne educated ;
Learnt love and trigonometry,
And a shrewd chap was rated.
Without a livre in my purse,
Want, close to work made me fix ;
And I, for better and for worse,
Was Ubicumque Felix
Ubicumque, Ubicumque, Ubicumque Felix,
Ubicumque, Ubicumque, Ubicumque Felix,
Ubicumque, Ubicumque, Ubicumque Felix,
Ubi, Ubi, Ubi, Ubi, Ubicumque Felix
II,
At Paris, then, I took my way,
No scoundrel e'er went further,
And revell’d nobly, night and day,
In rapine, blood, and murther;
* A month previous to this, however, the intrigues going on at
Elba were more than suspected, though their real character and actual
object could not be fathomed.
THE AUTUMN 1814, RESUMED.
2
7
For when the Jacobins began
Their Revolution Free tricks,
They found I was their very man,
And Ubicumque Felix
Ubicumque, &c.
III.
In Italy, some fine campaigns
I fought, and gathered glory ;
A wife got, to reward my pains,
From Barras' Directo-ry.
I plundered—pillaged—church and shrine.
And stole the Pope's crucifix;
And then in Paris made a shine,
As Ubicumque Felix
Ubicumque, &c.
IV.
To Egypt, next, I went, so brave,
To conquer every Acre ;
But Smith would only yield a grave
Of ground: d-d whdertaker /
I Mufti turn’d—all wouldn’t do,
And so I off to sea risks,
And safely steer'd the English through,
Oh, Ubicumque Felix
Ubicumque, &c.
W.
First Consul, Emperor and King,
With crowns and sceptres play'd I–
With titles graced each low-born thing
And made each Joan * a lady.
I thump'd the Continent about
With war and grand poli-tics,
And thrash’d each sovereign so stout,
Like Ubicumque Felix
Ubicumque, &c.
WI.
My old dame, now, I cast adrift,
To work a princess’ thraldom ;
To get an heir I made a shift,
And King of Rome 1 call'd him.
* It is not so delicate in the original; but tempora mutantwr,
et mos, &c.
28
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
United thus with royalty,
Good luck to favour me sticks,
And I deem the world the property
Of Ubicumque Felix
Ubicumque, &c.
WII,
My brothers all I Monarchs made,
And Queens my sister harlots;
But Joseph found it a bad trade,
And Spaniards cursed varlets.
'Gainst Moscow, too, I urged my force,
Where fortune first at me kicks,
Yet back to France I shape my course,
Still Ubicumque Felix
Ubicumque, &c.
VIIſ,
Now, Wellington, and Russ, and Pruss,
Began to pluck the Phoenix ;
I sorely fear'd they would me truss,
And send me over the Styx.
They used me better—took my wife,
And conscience never me pricks ;
In Elba I enjoy my life—
“IMP. Ubicumque Felix
! »
Ubicumque, &c.
Only the day before, August 4th, so incited had become
my rhyming faculties, I had perpetrated the annexed piece;
but really, all the Pitt school were half-crazed at this
season, with the success which had carried that policy
through, the disappointment of which preyed upon him, and
laid him in his tomb in Westminster Abbey years before
the triumph which awaited his arduous patriotism.
deliver here no opinion upon the right or the wrong of the
policy pursued ; that is not for the newspapers of the day,
nor autobiographists, but for history ; and so, only for its
temporary application, here is my song :—
THE AUTUMN 1814, RESUMED. 29
tº
“WE WE CAUGHT THE
AT LAST.”
NEW SONG FOUNDED ON AN INCIDENT WHICH Actually took PLACE As THE
UNDAUNTED FRIGATE, CAPT. Usher, was TRANSPORTING
NAPOLEON TO ELBA.
I served, my boys, you must know,
On board the Undaunted Frigate,
When from Fréjus with Boney in tow,
To Elba we forced him to jig it.
Cried Jack, from the Launch, to me,
As we was sailing past—
“So, you’ve got Nap safe I see; ”
Yes, we've caught the fellow at last.
Right, tight, tol de rolla
Boney he stood on deck the while,
Shamming not to know our patter;
But he gave a grin for a smile
When he heard our curious chatter.
As Jack, from the Launch, to me,
Called out as we went past—
“So, you've got Nap safe, I see: ”
Yes! we’ve caught the fellow at last.
Tol de rol.
Another verse applies to the fancy fleet on the Serpentine,
in Hyde Park, and is not worth repeating—if the others
are ? In this place, also, I may as well attach my own
value to productions like these ; and I think my practice of
judgment is such, that I can weigh them quite as fairly as
if they had been written by Somebody else. They are
smart enough for their immediate purpose, and display a
cleverness and talent well fitted for the small ready change
of temporary currency; but they seldom possess the sterling
even for future curiosity, and could, therefore, chiefly be
defended in a personal light, as forming parts of the life of
an individual who imagined his biography worthy of public
acceptance; yet, as miscellaneous reading, in our run-a-head
days, they may also revive already forgotten memories,
obliterated by recent events, more or less important, which
30 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
occupy the attention of the living generation# Napoleon and
Alexander, “turned to clay,” are now nearly in the same
category; and dead lions are not brutes to lecture on for
asses kicking their way, alike regardless of the past and
blind to the future. I must at the same time state, that
for one jeu de circonstance which I repeat, I shall in
compassion for my readers leave a great number of the
excess to their deserved repose.
Till near the close of the year, my letters descriptive of
Paris continued to appear as opportunity suited, and the
whole number, between thirty and forty, were popular at
the time. Paris had so long been sealed up, that they
possessed much novelty, and the generally attractive tone
of light anecdote contributed to this result. For instance
the whim of the people struck me in the name of an Hotel in
one of the inferior streets, the “ Hôtel des Milords ci-
devant,” the Tavern for Would-be-great folks. I do not
recollect so sarcastic an inn in all England. It seemed,
however, to be well frequented, from which I presume that
the Would-be's there, as elsewhere, were by no means the
most limited class in society. The Jolly Beggars is pro-
bably our nearest approach to this sign; but the company
under that name are almost always great folks, if not abso-
lutely royal, before they depart. With another of my
Parisian trifles I shall conclude this chapter.
AN AGRAM : BONAPARTE IN ELBA.
In Elba is placed (an appropriate station ()
Napoleon, Once ABLE—once feared by each nation;
Now stript of his empire, his legions dispersed,
IIis real situation is ABLE reversed.
POPULAR AMUSEMENTS, 31
CHAPTER IV.
— 0--—
LIGHT MATTERS–LITERARY PURSUITS.
Rail at him, brave spirit ! surround him with foes |
The wolf’s at his door, and there’s none to defend;
He's as “poor as a crow,” give him lustier blows,
And do not be alarmed, for he hasn’t a friend.
Now twirl your red steel in the wound you have made,
His wife lies a-dying, his children are dead;
He’ll soon be alone, man, so don't be afraid,
But give him a thrust that will keep down his head.
He has not a sixpence to buy his wife’s shroud,
He “writes for a living,” so stab him again!
Raise a laugh, as he timidly shrinks from the crowd,
And hunt him like blood-hound, most valiant of men.
To a malignant Critic, by J. T. FIELDs, Boston, America.
THE Grand Peace Jubilee, occupying the beginning of
August, was a splendid national fête ; and the rejoicings
and spectacles had, as such things ever will have, a very
beneficial public influence. After having due regard to the
material comforts of the humbler classes, there is no better
nor wiser policy than to contrive as much as possible to
furnish them with amusements and pleasures. It diverts
the unruly, it soothes the discontented, it silences the
turbulent, it gratifies the well-disposed, and raises a good
and kindly spirit in all, enjoying together the same recre-
ations, sights, and entertainments. Ballad writing may be
32 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
susceptible of producing considerable effect upon a people;
but give me the office of supplying the holiday sports and
relaxation from toil, and I will warrant a minimum risk of
disaffection or revolution . The jubilee was altogether a
fête of this kind, and exceedingly popular.”
The “Sun,” it may be supposed, warmly defended every
point assailed by the Opposition in regard to Mr. Canning's
Lisbon mission, and retorted upon his adversaries to the
utmost of my powers. The rank of Ambassador was a
necessary international etiquette when the Prince Regent of
Portugal had signified his determination to return to
* Among the most attractive sights were the mimic fleet on the Ser-
pentine River, and the Chinese bridge and pagoda on the canal in St.
James’s Park. My friend, David Pollock, who was about the earliest
efficient promoter of the introduction of gas from the invention of Mr.
Winsor, the first successful experimenter with it in his own dwelling, and
for thirty years governor of the Chartered Gas Light and Coke Company,
was so concerned in the application, that he hastened to London from the
circuit to be present at the lighting of the bridge and pagoda with this new
flame. Mortifying to relate, it will be remembered that the bridge caught
fire ; the gas was put out happily without explosion, and every part thrown
into smouldering darkness. The much-grieved governor hurried back in a
chaise to the country; and on appearing in court next morning very cast
down, one of his confrères wrote as follows:—
“When all the park was into darkness cast,
The mob lost nothing—Pollock looked aghast" (a gast).
On another occasion, on his asking a friend (Dr. Marsham, the present
warden of Merton College, Oxford, I believe), to take some shares in the
Chartered Gas Company, then in its infancy, he wrote in answer:—
* Believe me, dear Pollock, I am not such an ass,
As to think that Gaza's the Latin for gas.”
On another occasion, either the late Mr. Baron Bolland or the late
J. Adolphus wrote:–
“Little David of Old, with a sling and a stone,
Slew Goliath the Giant, alas !
If on our little David this task had been thrown,
He'd have poisoned the giant with gas.”
So are all new inventions and discoveries treated. Look at gas now !
MR. CANNING IN PORTUGAL. 33
Lisbon, and a British squadron had sailed at his request for
Rio Janeiro, to escort him to Europe. The allowances, there-
fore, accorded to Mr. Canning, were literally a restriction
upon, instead of an augmentation of the amount of ex-
penditure fixed by Parliament ; and all the imputations of
requiring more than was right were not only unfounded, but
the reverse of truth. Mr. Canning was never a money-
seeker, sordid or hoarding : an honourable and liberal
prudence guided him in all things, and his private life
and his patronage were alike of the purest and noblest
character. -
His departure was a melancholy day to me, and yet the
reader may laugh when I tell that I was somewhat recon-
ciled to the change, not merely by having the charge of
Gloucester Lodge and Garden confided to me, but, in
conjunction with my ever-valued friend, Mr. (Sir Francis)
Freeling, being entrusted with a commission to forward an oc-
casional supply of genuine Southdown mutton and Aylesbury
butter for the family of the Ambassador. These articles in
Portugal, it seemed, were in bad repute ; and health, not
epicurism, rendered this minor arrangement advisable. It
was also a subject of frequent mirth ; for there were no
penny stamps in those days to cover loins or carry legs
of mutton | The Secretary of the Post-office was, however,
a potential ally ; and I flatter myself that a portion of our
good understanding with Portugal might be traced to my
services in this little bit of commissariat business; for what
Portuguese minister at Colares, where Mr. Canning resided,
could resist the juice of such meat, and the seductions of
such English buttering ?
At the present moment, when there has been such a
controversy respecting the picking of patent locks, I may
mention, in connection with the General Post-office, that in
WOL. II. ID
34 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
the October of this year several locks, including that of the
Receiver General's Office and the iron chest in the inner
room, were all opened in one night by ingenious thieves.
Lavender and Vickery, the famous Bow-street officers,
endeavoured to penetrate the mystery in vain ; till at last,
free pardon and even a reward being promised for a full
discovery, the instruments by which the job was effected
were brought to Mr. Freeling's one day after dinner, and
their application explained. They were equal in number
and finish to the finest jeweller's tools, and more various in
form. Weeks had been spent in curious strategy,” to
obtain impressions after impressions of the locks in wax,
entering gradually deeper and deeper; and the keys, thus at
last perfected, did all that was requisite easily and noise-
lessly. The gang were, however, disappointed of their
expected booty, amounting to from 12,000l. to 18,000l.,
as the contents were taken nightly, a little before the office
closed, to be deposited in the bank.
A few months before this, the “Satirist” not having
thriven in my hands, it was given up, and the “Tripod "f
established on its débris, which circumstances may require
a short illustration by themselves. Galignani consulted me
about the starting of his universally popular and useful Paris
paper, which has since taken so important a place in periodical
literature, and our correspondence continued for some time.
In my private affairs one of those casualties took place,
which considerably affected my future fortunes; and as
my statements and sentiments with reference to such
* The first move, I remember, was a pretended drunkard staggering
against the outer door, and carrying off the size and shape of the key-hole
on the wax with which his palm was covered. The fellows could not
keep their countenance whilst they described their tricks. It was a
highly comic scene, unsurpassed by any in the “Beggars' Opera.”
f See Appendix A.
LITERARY MEN AND PURSUITS. 35
matters have given rise to many remarks and opinions, I
feel myself justified in entering a little more at large into
the subject.
I maintain that the uncertainties and disappointments
incident to a life entirely dependent on literature, in ninety-
nine cases out of a hundred, render that life (comparatively
speaking of the talent and ability it requires and the reward
it meets), to be at the best, precarious and unproductive, and
at the worst (far too frequently), impoverished and wretched.
All my experience tends to this conviction ; and I earnestly
repeat my warning, “beware of trusting to such a faithless
support and broken reed.”
I allow that the pursuit of literature is apt to generate,
and far more apt to give rise to the imputation of habits of
carelessness, and, if you will, of extravagance and imprudence.
I am not standing up as the apologist of these errors; on the
contrary, I set out, in my first volume, by declaring that I
was willing to point the moral of their injurious nature, by
frankly showing what I had myself suffered from them,
their degrading consequences and their painful sacrifices.
And I would also assert, that the mere imputations so
generally spread and credited, are nearly as injurious as the
‘reality could be.
A third point of view I would reiterate, as going so far to
excuse the literary Improvident, is, that his occupations, to
a certain extent unfit him for exact and constant attention
to more worldly concerns. His mind is ever prone to seek
refuge from troubles, petty or greater, in another world of
ideas, which he can make pleasant to himself, and where
sorrows are imaginary and persecutions unknown. This
may be very wrong, but it is very natural ; a castle in the
air is as consolatory as a high-raised hope ; and no wonder
that individuals fly up to inhabit the one, or cheat themselves
:
:
.
:
D 2
36 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
into the firm belief that the other is sure. The castle
dissolves, the hope fades away into nothingness, and there
stands the naked man of letters to be preyed upon by those
who have marked his incompetency, and abused by those
who have swindled him.
Again ; the acknowledged vicissitudes inseparable from
the literary career—one work succeeding, another failing,
many being rejected, few accepted, and, when accepted,
proving unsuccessful—afford strong grounds for the mitiga-
tion of censure and the recognition of sympathy. A season
of prosperity may be succeeded by a season of adversity;
and, even were this foreseen, there is not likely to be the
means for providing against that reverse. There is not the
Egyptian abundance of the seven years of plenty to garner
up resources to meet the seven years of famine, were there
a Joseph at your ear to prophesy the coming evil and instruct
you what to do in order to avert its calamities.
Thus literary men are at all times less prepared to meet
the strokes of misfortune than any other section of the
community. True it is, trades may fail, professions may
decline, and losses may alight on other heads, to their ruin;
but none, as a class, are liable to the same irregularities of
income and unfitness for the business struggle, or the same
liability to be found wanting in the hour of necessity, the
same aptitude for self-delusion, and the same deficiencies of
facilities and power to withstand a shock, whether it fall
upon them through rash misconduct or blameless accident.
There is a bond of union nearly throughout all the rest of
the stirring multitude, in active intercourse, to help each
other in cases of need ; but where is the help for the
stricken deer who only belongs to the communion of letters?
Bare is his position, weak and ineffectual his efforts, assist-
ance a miracle, restoration a phantom ; he is the Saint
LITERARY MEN AND PURSUITS, 37
Sebastian of his days, stript and bound, for every cruel
hand to shoot an arrow into him, to complete his mar-
tyrdom.
And this is no picture of the fancy; it is the sad reality
of the great majority of literary life. It is not the fate of
genius, of flightiness, of thoughtlessness, of extravagance.
I could, and will hereafter, name some of the most useful
and laborious authors of the age, who lived poor and died
in debt, though they never committed a folly or an excess
in their lives. Admirably did a great man advise when he
wrote*—
“In early youth I had many aspiring feelings to dedicate
my life to literature, and to literature alone; but I thank
God—seeing what I have seen in Galt, in Hogg, in Hood,
and other friends—that I had resolution to resolve on a
profession, and to make poetry my crutch, and not my staff.
I have, in consequence, lost the name which, probably,
with due exertion, I might have acquired ; but I have
gained many domestic blessings which more than counter-
balance it, and I can yet turn to my pen, in my short
intervals of occasional relaxation, with as much zest as in
my days of romantic adolescence.”
But suppose I change my line of argument, and appeal to
the thousands of learned and scientific men, the poets, the
historians, the novelists, and the diligent compilers of
valuable works,—every variety and description of authorship
—and ask them how they have fared ? What will their
reply be 2 That most have been steeped in poverty; that
a few have barely contrived to subsist ; that not one in a
hundred, who were without private and extrinsic resources
to fall back upon, have succeeded to the realisation of
* Sir Walter Scott, quoted and adopted, from his northern experience,
by the amiable and estimable “Delta,” Moir, whose premature loss we
have had so recently to deplore.
38 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
moderate independence ; and that, perhaps, one in five
hundred, the exception to the rule, has reached a goal almost
as satisfactory as he would have done had he been, with a
tolerable capacity, a divine, a lawyer, or a physician. To
compare the literary aspirant with prosperous merchants,
great contractors, cotton lords, et hoc genus omne, is purely
ridiculous; his course can only be contrasted with the
contemporary and co-equal course of other persons engaged
in intellectual pursuits; and is there a competent observer
of society in existence, so blind as not to see that his chances
and rewards run upon a sterile level far beneath those
fruitful heights which they attain.
The fact is, that the profession of literature is neither
honoured nor encouraged in England as in other civilised
countries. The Professors are suspected (and not untruly)
of being in a way of unprofitable exertion, which is likely
to lead to the curse of needing help. Such people are not
courted by the majority of well-to-do folks. There is a sort of
noli me tangere about them which causes avoidance as of
contagion. And if they are really plunged into certain
poverty, bell, book, and candle, would be too kind for them,
and the sentence of excommunication is passed. I have
seen, communed with, and aided many able and meritorious
writers in both these unfortunate conditions. But even
those who do not fall under the suspicion or into the abyss
I have described, are still made to feel that literature is a
derogatory and dangerous hobby. Let an eminent states-
man of cultivated taste or graceful faculties devote a vacant
hour to solace himself with any production of refined or
elevated character, and the moment it appears he becomes
a mark for almost general mockery and ridicule. There is
a species of infection in the mere association, and the public
voice is heard to exclaim against him for having written a
LITERARY MEN AND PURSUITS. 39
book, and forgetful of all his antecedents, pronounce, like
Othello—
“But never more be officer of mine.”
He has sunk as deeply as he could into the crowded ranks of
the helots of the press; and it will be no easy task for him
to regain, even if unscathed, his station.
Employment on the Periodical press furnishes subsistence
to a considerable number of clever writers, including not a
few of very superior talents; but are they better off in the
Scale than the general class of retail shop-keepers, traders,
and decent handicraftsmen ? Assuredly not ; and yet
without an income derived from occupation of this kind,
authorship is seldom anything else but a name for beggary.
, I will not, however, rest my assertions touching this
vitally important literary question upon the condition of the
middle-class strugglers ; nor anticipate what may be the
lot of my younger contemporaries, who are flourishing, as I
did at their period of life. I have seen and known too much,
not to warn them that there may be breakers a-head, and
their school reading will remind them that it is not safe to
pronounce even a mighty monarch fortunate or happy till
he dies. Sincerely do I pray that their prosperity may
increase and be lasting, even to the end.
But I will inquire about the most cultivated and dis-
tinguished literary men, and men of genius of the present
century, and ask if their success in life can support the
doctrine of their being adequately requited, in comparison
with far less gifted individuals in intellectual and other
walks of life. Where are their bishops, and judges, and
eminent physicians, where even their deans, and rectors,
their prebendaries, their middle-rank barristers, their well.
feed general practitioners ? For a history they may get as
much as a counsel with a brief; for a romance, as much
40 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
as a popular actor for a night's performance ; for an
immortal poem—nothing. Yet this, forsooth, is the order
who ought to be thankful for the blessings showered upon
them by an indulgent and munificent public ; whose deserts
are fully acknowledged, whose exertions are more than
suitably rewarded. Ingrates to complain
Yet, did Sir Walter Scott, the most productive of authors,
die rich 2 Perhaps I may be answered that his wreck of
fortune was the result of improvident speculation in the
purchase of land, and in building. His ambition aimed, as
I believe, at founding, not a baronetcy, but a peerage ;
and the great wizard fell.
But did Moore, never an imprudent or extravagant liver,
and largely assisted, as he was, by the sale of music and a
pension, did he die rich 3 Courted and flattered by the high
and fair for many a bright year, he finished his brilliant career
in the retirement of a lowly Wiltshire cottage, and was
carried almost without an attendant mourner to a seques-
tered grave. No doubt some one or some subscriptions
will give him a stone.”
Did Campbell, also kept from absolute dependence upon
his pen, by a pension, die rich 2 or even in comfortable
circumstances 2 Truly his Pleasures throughout his life
were more of Hope than reality. But for his connection
with periodical literature, the author of the noblest lyrics
in the English language could scarcely have kept a decent
house over his head.
Did the witty Theodore Hook, the author of so many
pleasant volumes, die rich 2 or was he supported, not ex-
travagantly, but merely in a gentlemanly style, by periodical
writing, to die poor ?
* Since I wrote this I observe that a subscription for a monument has
been opened under high auspices ; but does not seem to fill well.
LITERARY MEN. 41
Did the ingenious and laborious Loudon, notwithstanding
the vast extent of his publications, die rich, or with his
copyrights in pawn 2–yet he lived prudently and
economically.
Did the equally laborious and instructive Maunder, who
spent his days, not in luxury, but humble retirement, die
rich 3 I do not think he could leave the amount of a
tapist's quarter's salary behind him.
Is John Britton, the veteran pioneer to so many and such
great national improvements in cathedral architecture, the
opener of a wild and encouraging field for the fine arts, the
able and indefatigable archaeologist before archaeology
became a sort of fashion : is John Britton wealthy, or was
he not the other day only, in his 81st year, much consoled
by the grant of even a paltry pension ?
Genius or Drudgery ! The same fate attends them
How is it with the Laureate and popular poet, Tennyson ?
Without his sack and salary, and a pension too, his situation,
I fear, would not be one to be envied by a respectable tailor
in a small way.
How is it with Charles Swain, one of the most natural
and sweetest of English bards 2 His hands can happily
be engaged to aid his head, and if the Engraver could not
do something, the Poet might starve.
All are but the Dr. Johnsons and the Oliver Goldsmiths
of our times. Generation after generation, there is only a
repetition of the same course. The exceptions, few and far
between, confirm the rule. The brothers Chambers, of
Edinburgh, and Dickens, in London, are the only two who
occur to me to have done as well through literature as if
their talents had been directed to professional pursuits.
Thackeray, with all his abilities, made more money, I
fancy, by a dozen of lectures than by several of his popular
42 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
publications; and how long was it before he caught the
public ear, in spite of his original and curious efforts 2 He
now, I think erroneously, if not unfeelingly, upholds the
cause against his brethren ; and, since he has at last got
up the hill, maintains that All are sufficiently encouraged,
and that if they are not in pleasant circumstances, they
have nobody to blame for it but themselves | I do not
think he would have written so seven or three years ago !
A numerous body of authors may be cited, whose positions
do not bear upon the subject—men of fortune, who have not
had to make literature their staff. Yet, though they are
out of the pale of dependence upon profits, it would be easy
to show, that very few of them ever reaped any benefit from
their writings. On the contrary, like gentlemen’s farming,
the majority have found their publications rather costly.
Hallam, Bulwer, Macaulay, James, M'Culloch, Disraeli, and
a few others, may be exceptions; but we doubt exceedingly
that such individuals as Rogers, Milman, Talfourd, Croly,
Lockhart, Wilson, Procter, Hood, Murchison, Sedgwick,
ever did much more than clear their expenses by authorship ;
and some of them not that, as their bankers’ books would
strikingly prove. Yet what a mass of human intelligence
and rich qualities of the mind are embodied in such a list;
which could be expanded over pages with celebrated
Il 8,110 €S.
Since I was connected with the press, now nearly half a
century, I have read, and I have written, many obitu-
aries of deceased authors in every line of literature ; and
the conclusion—the epitaph might be stereotyped—has
always been, “He died in poverty, and left his family in
distress.”
Pharisaical condemnation in the opposite sense, can only
come from persons who are neither scholars, literary men,
LITERARY PURSUITS. - 43
gentlemen, nor men of liberal or candid feeling—grovelling
hypocrites, devoid of observation, and destitute of judgment.
But, alas, it is not in literature alone that this unjust and
self-exalting spirit prevails. Too universal is the wrong.”
We ask for ourselves what we deny to others. Hearken to
the kindest characters among your acquaintance when aught
of a third party happens to be spoken of What is the
talk 2 Any doubtful action may very rarely meet with an
excusatory or exculpatory interpretation ; but not once in a
thousand cases will you find the best construction put upon
it. Even friends are wavering or silent, and malice, envy,
and uncharitableness have their full swing, and the field
all their own way. Yet, the being thus maligned, yielded
up, and crushed, might deserve the epitaph designed for
himself by the minstrel Beattie, when in contemplation
of death :
Forget my frailties, thou art also frail;
Forget my lapses, for thyself may'st fall ;
Nor read, unmoved, my artless, tender tale :
I was a friend, O, man to thee and all !
* See Appendix B.
44 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
CHAPTER W.
A MISFORTUNE.
Honour and shame from no condition rise;
Act well your part, -there all the honour lies.
Fortune in men has some small difference made—
One flaunts in rags, one flutters in brocade.
Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow;
The rest is all but leather and prunella.
FoR several years previous to this period of my life, I
lived on very intimate terms with a much respected gentle-
man, Mr. Peter Begbie ; who had been in the Indian
mercantile service, and now held a peculiar official situa-
tion in Somerset House. A numerous family surrounded
his hospitable domestic hearth—the daughters accomplished
with fine natural attainments, and his sons acquiring that
instruction which was to forward them in their several
walks of life, chiefly the church and the military and civil
service of India. All the three elder girls wrote sweet poetry,
for the “Sun,” and many of their compositions afterwards
adorned the “Literary Gazette,” as I shall have occasion
to notice in due time. Harlow, whom I introduced to
them painted portraits of them, and fancy pieces in which
they figured; and for his Hubert and Prince Arthur, in
King John, exhibited in 1815, my friend Begbie and his
second son sat for the characters. It was a social and
A MISFORTUNE, 45
most agreeable rendezvous, at least twice a-week, and
many a happy day I spent in their company. But,
there is always a but—a serious misfortune sprung out
of this enjoyment, and afforded exactly such an incident
as is likely to affect the welfare of a literary man, as
I have described in the foregoing pages. Among the
acceptable and intelligent gentlemen with whom I became
acquainted at Mr. Begbie's, was Mr. Whitehead, the
principal of the banking firm of Whitehead, Howard, and
Haddock, with whom, for reasons promising advantages to
myself, I lodged the moderate sum of money I then
possessed. On the 17th of November, this old established
and highly respectable house, connected with many country
banks, was compelled to stop payment ; and notwithstand-
ing the first favourable report of assets, and the known
worth and integrity of the partners, the hope entertained of
a favourable winding up was never fulfilled.
It may readily be believed that such an event materially
deranged my resources and disconcerted my prospects: it was
indeed a severe and unexpected blow, not only for the actual
loss, but for its hurtful interference with ulterior objects
and engagements. From what happened within the next
two years, I never could recover the same ease of circum-
stances again. My final retirement from the “Sun,” and
the time required for the establishment, to be profitable,
of the “Literary Gazette,” bound the chain faster and
thicker round me, and to the end the more I made, as
the common saying is, the more I was pillaged and vic-
timised by those who had got a hold upon my progress
and earnings.
It may be a silly tale, but it is a true one. The evil
might possibly have been lessened by the possession and
the exercise of a less sanguine disposition than belonged
46 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
to me, and of more severe prudence. But I fought hard too,
and worked hard, in vain—the alp rose behind the alp in the
ascent, and the pitfall succeeded the pitfall in the decline!
The incubus never was entirely thrown off: if it had, I
should have been a prosperous gentleman, but inexorable
fate, like that of Greek tragedy, had ordained it other-
wise, and fate was faithfully and zealously served by
harpies, whose foul deeds it must be my task to expose.
As a warning fact I would add, that a man struggling
under difficulties is almost sure to come into contact with
rascally people, who will betray and plunder him.
Like the magpie in the fable, he is thrown into bad
company, and if they leave him a feather in his wing, or do
not wring his neck, it is no voluntary omission of theirs.
Vultures scent their prey from a wonderful distance:—the
proverb is somewhat musty.
A friendly and sympathising letter from Mr. Freeling,
relative to the loss to which I have alluded, may be added
as an indication of his generous nature :—
“DEAR JERDAN, “Lisson-grove, Saturday night.
“I regret most truly that you are a sufferer by
the unfortunate failure of the Whiteheads. I am sorry you
should think any apology necessary to me for any thing.
I experience nothing but kindness and attention at your
hands.
“Believe me ever yours truly,
“FREELING.”
“Perhaps you will come and dine here one day towards
the end of the week.”
The disaster I have just explained (upon which my friend
D. Pollock shrewdly observed, at an after period, “Jerdan
A MISFORTUNE. 47
has been always kept back by the want of those few hundred
pounds,”) was more than pecuniarily distressing ; for I
entertained a sincere regard for the greatest sufferer in the
calamity, and was only reassured from very painful appre-
hensions when I learnt that Mr. Begbie, like a good
Samaritan as he was, had humanely taken charge of him
in his distraction, and accompanied him to Calais. In my
first volume I exhibited some traits of the penalties paid
by crime ; and I am sure, at this distance of time (thirty-
eight years), it can hurt no private feeling to indicate the
severe consequences which result from, and punish, even
unguarded worth and too indiscriminating generosity. In
our trading community and commercial country, a good
man must not “wear his heart upon his sleeve for daws
to peck at ; ” for trusty is the adage, “the simple man's
the beggar's brother,” and heaven pity him when he has
fallen into that state. Portion of a letter, dated Calais,
18 November, 1814, will afford a melancholy illustration
of this topic :-
“I had written thus far when I received your few lines
of Wednesday last, and I feel myself very grateful for your
attention. Poor Whitehead hows I feel for him ; for,
though prepared for the event, yet he was not without
hopes that the house might have weathered the storm.
His unbounded liberality to, and confidence in, his brother,
added to the sudden withdrawing the Bath bank's account,
have caused the calamity. I fear he has not nerves to
return. I wish to God, my friend, you and Mrs. B. could
induce Mrs. W. to join us as soon as she can. Till she
does, I cannot leave him. I do firmly believe I have saved
his life : he is really wild at times, and I have no trifling
task, I assure you, to amuse him.
48 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
“May I entreat you, my friend, should you receive this
in time, to take Gloster Place in your way from the Strand,
and pass an hour or two with her. I have written to her
by this post, but I know that sometimes foreign letters are
rather tardy in their delivery westward. As far as I can
be comfortable, away from my family, I am so, but it is
painful the state of suspense; did I know to a certainty
when Mrs. W. would arrive, I should be easy.” Mr. W.
begs to be very kindly remembered to you.
“Most truly yours,
“P, BEGBIE.
“You talked of taking another trip to this country.
I wish you could contrive to join us here.”
Notwithstanding what had occurred, the ensuing year,
1815, though the beginning of a great vexation and over-
throw, was gone through without any particular incident to
require notice, or any event to lament, till, at its close, I
lost the estimable friend whose letter I have just quoted.
The year opened triumphantly for a “Sun '' editor. The
glorious position which the British empire had attained,
filled the breast of all who held its politics with exultation;
* This poor lady was ill calculated to meet the blast of adversity. In
her prosperous days she was something of the temperament of many
wealthy City dames whom I have met and (as usual) observed. Atten-
tions of every kind were somewhat imperiously demanded, and sometimes
ludicrously (often unwillingly) rendered. Of the former I remember a
laughable instance. On the first day, in a fine Brighton lodging-house, the
maid-servant, at dinner, brought up cold spoons wherewith to help the
warm gravy; and got admonished for her ignorance of the science of
waiting at table, and told never to bring up spoons again without making
them as hot as possible. We soon after had coffee, and in an instant
Mrs. W. threw down her cup, saucer, spoon, and all : the maid had made
the latter nearly red hot, and burning her mistress's fingers was the result
of advice not afforded with sufficient coolness or particularity.
NAPOLEON IN FRANCE. 49
and it seemed impossible to make an addition to her power
and fame. Waterloo was still in the womb of time, and
little expected to be so near. We had rescued Spain ; were
in cordial alliance with the Continental Governments; had
reduced the colossal and aggressive power of France ; had
established a general peace ; and witnessed the financial
and commercial interests of the land seeking new channels
without a fear of the result, but rather a strong assurance
of increased prosperity. The “Sun" had no spear to turn
into a ploughshare, nor sword to convert into a pruning-hook;
but it took its peaceful course with a far more frequent and
enlarged attention to the literary productions and fine arts
of the day. Hardly a Number appeared without reviews
of new publications, and criticisms upon works of art ; and
be it remembered that these were very novel features to be
displayed in a political journal; when there were no such
literary periodicals as now abound. But the season did
not last long for the development of this system. On the
10th of March a thunder-clap burst upon and astonished
Europe: Buonaparte had escaped from Elba, and landed in
France | - -
Some reared aloft, come tumbling down amain,
And fall so hard, they bound and rise again;
And so did he, the boldest, most adventurous, and extra-
ordinary of mortals,—the Marc Antony of our era,_raised
aloft once more the meteor of the world, to be finally trod out
by the greater Caesar, Wellington. The newspapers were all
alive again ; and a period ensued of conflicting accounts,
intense anxieties, and wonderful events, such as never had
been crowded into so brief a space in the history of mankind.
I know not if Napoleon's daring and impatience got the
better of his policy and prudence ; but it does seem feasible
WOL. II, E
50 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
to suppose, that if he had waited but a short while, till the
Congress of Vienna had broken up, and the allied armies
were more widely separated or reduced, his chance of success
might have been greater. He played his desperate game,
however, with masterly skill and force, Macbeth-like, still
trusting to his supernatural Grey Man, and undismayed by
the appalling muster which advanced against him from
every side. If not every inch an Emperor, he was every
inch a Soldier; and many there were who dreaded the
prestige of his military genius. The very humourists of
Paris put some trust in his destiny, for one clever carica-
ture, founded on the Parisian mode of elision, when asking
for any newspaper,-with brevity calling the “Journal de
Débats,” “le Débats;” the “Journal de l'Empire,”
“L’Empire,” &c., represented Louis XVIII., Buonaparte,
and the King of Rome sitting in a café, the Corsican reading
the last-mentioned paper. The King says, very politely, “Sir,
when you have done with the EMPIRE, I will thank you to
let me have it ; ” and Napoleon, pointing to the boy,
replies, “Sir, I am sorry it is not in my power to oblige
you, for it is bespoke for this young gentleman ”
Madmen ought not to be mad;
But who can help their phrenzy?
Dryden.
With Napoleon, there was method in it; but the odds were
too much against him, in his last bold and desperate throw
for the world's dominion |
SHREDS AND PATCHES." 51
CHAPTER WI.
“SHREDS AND PATCHES.”
This is the place, stand still my steed,
Let me review the scene ;
And summon from the shadowy Past,
The forms that once have been.
The Past and Present here unite,
Beneath Time's flowing tide ;
Like footprints hidden by a brook,
But seen on either side.—LongFELLow.
Lives of great men all remind us,
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of Time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.-IDEM.
THE eighteenth of June arrived, and ended all this
strange eventful history, except the disposal of the indivi-
dual whose ambition had flooded the earth with blood.
The war being again over, the “Sun ''Literary Reviews
recommenced with increased energy, and the riotices of
exhibitions and productions of works of art were never
neglected. If I repeat my boast of these things, now and
hereafter, I must beg my readers who are only acquainted
with the recent and present publications of the newspaper
press, to look back for an hour to those of the period of
which I am speaking. They will not, then, deny the praise to
E 2
52 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
which I aspire, of having most unequivocally led the way
to these combinations in the periodical press, commingling
the arts and literature with the news and politics of the hour;
which two years afterwards (1817), I concentrated, barring
political discussions, in the “Literary Gazette,” and which
have been the fruitful source of the universal newspaper
system of the present day. It is something like a feather
in one's cap to have contributed to such an improvement.
I also carried my zealous services into the “Literary
Fund’’ and other benevolent associations; and I never
slackened in my exertions to promote their interests to the
utmost of my power. I can truly aver that I have laboured
diligently all my life, where the cause of letters and
humanity came within my sphere, and never grudged cost, or
time, more precious than money, to help my fellow-creatures.
As a counterpoise at the period now in hand, I plead
guilty to the commission of clouds of indifferent epigrams,
and other effusions in prose and verse, which I considered
to be very pertinent and clever when produced, but which I
cannot conscientiously assert to bear the test of retrospec-
tion. My colleague, John Taylor, was as bad as, or worse,
than myself; and I must confess that I should not like to
see a collection of all the puns and plays upon words and
syllables that appeared in the “Sun” during any one year
of my editing. A few samples of the best will prove that
my blush for these productions would not be without
reasonable foundation. Impromptu, January 19th :—
on A REPORT THAT THE ORDER of THE THISTLE WAS To BE
BESTOWED ON A CERTAIN LAW LORD.
Old Scotia's Thistle long has rear'd
Its head in fair renown,
Now rumour lies, or else 'tis fear'd,
*Twill be but Thistle-Down |
SHREDS AND PATCHES. 53
It was a far better mot on the occasion that, now he had
got the ribbon of the order, Lord Erskine's voice would
not be heard so much in the House. “No,” remarked
the wag of the day, “he will be like the hotel sign in
Oxford-street, the “Green Man and Still.’” In after
years I had a pleasing correspondence with his Lordship
when he printed his humane appeal in favour of the
Rooks, and contended that by their destruction of insects
they much overpaid the loss of any injury done to the farmer's
crops. There was nobody, to be sure, to take up the
case of the suffering insects: they were like the very poor
in the social scheme, too low in the scale to stir up a
friend; and the only word I ever heard uttered in favour
of the tribe, was the reply of the lazy fellow in Dublin
when reproached with his sluggard habits. “Ah, Dick,
Dick, thee wilt never come to good, lying in bed till
moon! It is the early bird, Dick, that picks up the
worm.” “Ay, but,” said Dick, “the worm was up
first!” But again, March 17th :—
LINES
TO A SPARROW WHO COMES EVERY MORNING TO MY WINDOW
FOR HIS BREAKFAST.
Master Dicky, my dear,
You have nothing to fear,
Your proceedings I mean not to check, sir;
Whilst the weather benumbs,
We should pick up our crumbs,
So, I prithee, make free with a peck, sir.
I'm afraid 'tis too plain,
You're a villain in grain,
But in that you resemble your neighbours ;
For mankind have agreed,
It is right to suck seed,
Then like you, hop the twig with their labours.
54 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
Besides this, Master Dick,
You of trade have the trick,
In all branches you traffic at will, sir;
You have no need of shops
For your samples of hops,
And can every day take up your bill, sir.
Then, in foreign affairs,
You may give yourself airs ;
For I’ve heard it reported at home, sir,
That you’re on the best terms
With the Diet of Worms,
And have often been tempted to Rome, sir.
Thus you feather your nest
In the way you like best,
And live high, without fear of mishap, sir.
You are fond of your Grub ;
Have a taste for some Shrub,
And for Gin there, you understand Trap, sir.
Though the rivers won't flow
In the frost and the snow,
And for fish other folks vainly try, sir,
Yet you’ll have a treat,
For, in cold or in heat,
You can still take a Perch with a fly, sir.
In love, too, O, Dick |
Though (you oft when love-sick,
On the course of good-breeding may trample ;
And, though often hen-peck'd,
Yet) you scorn to neglect
To set all the world an Eggsample.
Your o-pinions, ’tis true,
Are flighty, a few ; -
But at this I, for one, will not grumble;
So your breakfast you’ve got,
And you’re off like a shot.—
Dear Dicky,
Your humble cum-tumble.
In the ranks of opposition there was not one member
whose political conduct I so thoroughly condemned, and
whom I, consequently, so much disliked, as Mr. Whit-
bread. I do not know how many squibs I fired at the
“Santerre" and “Anacharsis Cloots” of England, as
MR, WHITBREAD. 55
our party denominated him ; but I do not think I ever
wrote a word about him, till his deplorable death, that
was not a satire and reproach. His frequent practice of
pestering ministers in the House of Commons by asking
questions, had recently been more than ever indulged in,
and led to the following (April 25):-
SAM QUERY.
AN OOD CHARACTER IN ODD RHYM E.
Sam Query, a brewer, in famed Chiswell-street,
Is a comical dog as you'll find in his station ;
He ne'er opens his mouth, nor gets up from his seat,
But to ask what he very much wants—information.
Sam Query.
From his tongue never accent is noticed to flow,
Save “I rise, sir, to ask?” and “I wish, sir, to know P”
“Being set on my legs, sir, I beg to inquire ?”
“Am I then to presume P” “Is report, then, a liar P”
“By that shake of the head, sir, pray what, sir, is meant?”
“Does the noble lord’s nod stand for ass or dissent?”
“What was done, sir, at A P” “Who was present at B?”
“When signed CP” “How did D P” “Where the Devil was EP”
“Is it false P” “Is it true?” “Whence arose this foul blot?”
“Does the noble lord know?” “Does the noble lord not?”
“Why the h–ll do you laugh? I'd have you, d'ye see,
Impeached if I thought you were laughing at me.”
- Sam Query.
Thus raving away for the good of the nation,
Sam Query personified INTERRoGATION;
The ministers' souls or their ears sure to harrow,
With cross-questions outgarrowing fifty times Garrow;
But the cream of the jest is the fellow, odd rot it,
Can never make use of a fact when he's got it.
By Query.
When I made this remark to the brewer one day,
He replied, “My name’s Query, and Query's my way.”
Noun, adverb, and verb all by logic combined,
Cannot do half the work which in Query I find;
And pedants who undertake grammar to teach,
Should rank Query the ninth and the best part of speech.
Great Query.
56 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
Had he lived in those days when, as school-classes tell,
The Pythoness prophet in Delos did dwell;
He’d so many responses have asked in a breath,
As had badgered the God and his priestess to death.
And 'till now in the world ne'er has been such a man, sir,
For questions by hundreds, not wanting one answer,
So endless, so aimless, so senseless, so dreary,
As this bugaboo, bothering brewer, Sam P
The practice of cross-questioning has by no means abated
with parliamentary reform On the 13th of May I uttered
a punning prophecy, which was soon gloriously fulfilled, on
the ball given by the Duke of Wellington at Brussels.
The friends of Duke Wellington, prompt to the call,
With pride and with pleasure attend at his ball;
But lest e'en his foes should with jealousy pout,
He will soon give them many a ball and a rout.
As I was all for the Duke, so was I all against Buonaparte;
and on his issuing an order for the defence of Paris by
inundation, wrote— -
'Tis a desperate measure, the Paris folks think,
To inundate them and the country around;
But Boney will swim, though the capital sink,
For those born to be hang'd are sure not to be drown'd
Thus secure of a fate high and dry in the air,
The rebel, from water with nothing to fear,
Bids, in justice, to sink the good city prepare,
As amends for the blowing up meant it last year.
But I must not indulge too long at a time in this vein.
Party spirit ran very high, and those who believed the
safety of the country to be endangered by that sort of hero-
worship which the extraordinary exploits and elevation of
Buonaparte had engendered, were not sparing either in
denunciation or ridicule of his worshippers; among the
most zealous of whom was Mr. Whitbread. But on his
death the sense of disapprobation which influenced my con-
stant opposition to his political course also died, and the
following was my honest tribute to his character :—
SHIREDS AND PATCHIES. 57
“He was a man of a vigorous mind, and of the most
intense application. Generally informed, devoted to busi-
ness, and zealous in all his pursuits, Mr. Whitbread
exhibited many of the traits which have been thought to
belong to our national character. It has ever been our lot
to differ from him on political subjects, and truth compels
us to say, that, in our opinion, his course did not always
square with the true interests of his country. But to his
indefatigable diligence, to his perseverance and constancy, we
desire to pay the tribute due. The death of few men would
have occasioned so large a blankin our parliamentary history;
and in the relations of private life, and in all the honourable
situations of magistrate, country gentleman, and active mem-
ber of society ——” I was concluding with the praises
which the deceased merited in these relations, when the fatal
particulars of his suicide arrived and stopped my pen.
Such trifles, too, as I have quoted, varied the page on
which was imprinted news of mighty import ; statements
and rumours on the truth or falsehood of which the fate
of Europe seemed to depend ; and accounts of Lord
Cochrane's apparition in the House of Commons; the
death, dissection, and burial of Joanna Southcote, after
being kept the four predicted days in vain for her revival
and the birth of Shiloh; the apparition of the pig-faced
lady, who was never seen ; and other momentous affairs
demonstrative of the enlightened civilisation of the nine-
teenth century |
In the spring I had the good fortune to procure the
appointment of Post-master of Sheffield for my friend
Mr. William Todd, a respectable printer there, and pro-
prietor of the “Sheffield Mercury;” the leading articles for
which I wrote during six or eight years. The subjoined
letter expresses his acknowledgments of the kindly office :—
58 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
“Mercury Office, Sheffield, April 29th, 1815.
“DEAR JERDAN,+
“I was not at home when your very pleasing com-
munications reached Sheffield. By the same post a letter
from Mr. Freeling also conveyed the welcome news. I
know not how to thank you for the present and former
instances of friendship you have so obligingly shown in the
promotion of my interest. If you were personally to take
an early hour to call on Mr. F. and thank him in my
name, you will accomplish a sincere and ardent wish of my
heart.
“Receive the warmest and best acknowledgments of
your sincere friend and obedient servant,
“WM. TODD.”
A few weeks after, I was equally fortunate in obtaining
for Mr. Pyne her Majesty's permission to make his drawings
of the royal apartments at Windsor, for his splendid work
on the Royal Palaces, and leave to dedicate the same to her
Majesty. Colonel Stephenson's letter on the subject, hints
with great delicacy at the condition of the King, and as it
is only a few lines and “private” no longer, I take leave to
insert it, and Mr. Freeling's previous letter requesting the
favour.
“General Post Office, July 6th, 1815.
“DEAR JERDAN,-
“You are always thinking of my gratification—
many sincere thanks—all these little things are valuable to
a collector.
“Stephenson has so much felt his loss, (the death of his
wife) that at present he avoids even me.
“The best thing I can do is to send him your letter. I
GOOD OFFICES. 59
know that he has laid down strong rules for his own conduct
in all these cases, and I shall be much gratified to learn
that your request is not contrary to those rules.
“I think the public have been too extravagant in their
expectations as to the Allies entering Paris. That act will
take place in good time, and not before it shall be right to
do so on a consideration of all circumstances.
“Believe me, dear Jerdan,
“Yours truly and always,
“F. FREELING...”
“Windsor Castle, 8th July, 1815.”
“MY DEAR FREELING,-
“I have laid Mr. Pyne's request before the
Queen, and her Majesty has been graciously pleased to
accept of the dedication, and to allow the drawings to be
made of the royal apartments, as far as the same can be done
with propriety under existing circumstances; and I have
written to Mr. Pyne accordingly, and desired he would call
upon me, in order to make the necessary arrangements with
his artists. It will give me great pleasure to afford that
gentleman every assistance in my power, though I very
much doubt the success of his undertaking. I return you
enclosed Mr. Jerdan's letter,
“And remain, my dear Freeling,
“Yours affectionately,
& B. C. STEPHENSON.
“FRAs. FREELING, Esq.,
&c. &c. &c.”
My intercourse with the Government, through its highest
official channels, and especially with those most attached,
personally and politically, to Mr. Canning, was at this
60 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
period of an intimate nature. There are, of course, many
matters which it would not become me to touch upon, but
as my work is an Auto-biography, I trust I shall be thought
entitled to select some personal reminiscences very gratify-
ing to my own feelings, and, if I am not mistaken, likely to
be of some public interest in consideration of the names
connected with them. What they were to me at the time,
it were impossible for me to over-estimate ; but the vista of
years is in nature what the dissolving views are in art ; the
prominent and important objects fade gradually away into
the misty horizon, and resolve themselves into the thin
air. The excitements, the strong passions, the prospects,
the pleasures, the pains, the all of current existence, like
the landscape of the artist, melt into the distance, and we
wonder that they ever appeared to be so substantial, so awful.
Yet it is a lovely grey mist that tempers all into harmony.
How the rugged is smoothed, how the intemperate is chas-
tised, how the offensive is qualified, how the crude is refined
how the saddening is solaced, how the joyous is moderated,
how the passionate is rebuked, how the evil is punished,
how the truly good is trained to flourish for ever green and
for ever fruitful, though the atmosphere is changed in the
picture and the feelings in the man. The parallel of a
dissolving view is, indeed, a pregnant lesson of life ; it
advances with imposing features, expanding, realising—dis-
tinct with sylvan glades, cheering sunshine and flowery
foreground, rocky precipices, insuperable mountains, a sky
clouded on one side and clear on the other, for a few brief
moments it is stationary, to try the penetration of your sight,
and the application of your judgment—and then begins the
vanishing, the magic of looking back instead of forward,
and the glades are but dismal avenues, the sunshine
obscured, flowers little better than weeds, the rocks shape-
CANNING : HUSKISSON, ETC. 61
less stepping-stones, the insuperable mountains shadows,
and the sky, as far as human life is concerned, a deepening
gloom. -
6&
These our actors
Are melted into air, into thin air;
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made of, and our little life
Is rounded by a sleep.”
Letters from my brother, Major Jerdan, commanding
with distinguished military approbation, a battalion in the
expedition to Kutch at this time, were further stimu-
lants to exertion, and sources of sanguine hopes. I read
his name in the despatches with delight, though spelt
“Jardine,” and in one of his letters he tells me, that
he had seen mine honourably mentioned in some Maga-
zine, with a similar pleasure; so, at the date of the Battle
of Waterloo, I was tolerably contented, very actively
employed, and, in the pursuit of literature, happy.
My frequent correspondence with Mr. Canning at Colares
was not the least of my enjoyments, for though the
subject-matter was of little importance, still it was a
high gratification to me to be hearing familiarly from
such a man, and communing on terms of confidence with
his friends at home. I was very proud of it; and am!
A few letters which illustrate this, and have other meanings
of more general interest, I will add. The first is of curious
import, when it is remembered that the writer took the
ambassadorial appointment only in the almost certain expecta-
tion of the Sovereign arriving from the Brazils at Lisbon,
and when this event did not take place, immediately and
62 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
without publicity resigned the office and its large allow-
ances. This act being unknown, he was, of course,
furiously assailed by his adversaries for his venality, in
taking pay where there were no duties to be performed !
The curious formality of the letter is also a characteristic
worthy of note. It is droll to receive from an eminent
minister of the Crown, on the same day, as I have done,
letters addressed “Sir,” and “respectfully ” signed ; and
others, “My dear Sir,” “Yours, most sincerely,” &c. &c.
It seemed as if the forms of official business necessarily
adhered to communications of a political character.
“Colares, nr. Cintra, Sept. 22nd, 1815.
“SIR,
“I receive by each packet two sets of ‘The
Sun,’ one, I apprehend, sent by yourself to the Foreign
Office, the other through the Post Office.
“The latter comes by far the most regularly ; and, as I
intend to continue that, and as one set is enough for a
private person, may I request you to discontinue that which
has come to me through the Foreign Office 2 *
“I am, Sir,
“Your most obedient and
“Faithful humble servant,
“GEORGE CANNING.
“PS. If yours should be the set that comes from the
Post Office, I should still be much obliged to you to find
out how the other set comes to the Foreign Office, and to
stop it.”
Next month, my letter runs—
* The italics are the writer’s.
CANNING : HUSKISSON, ETC. 63
“Colares, October 25th, 1815.
“SIR,
“I have to acknowledge the favour of your letter
of the 28th ult., and to return you my thanks for the book
which accompanied it, and which you have done me the
honour to inscribe to me, in terms so much too flattering.
“I shall certainly be in England some time next Spring;
but exactly at what period, I am not yet able to decide.
“I am really uninformed of the nature of the ‘rumours'
which you say are “afloat' in the political world, and con-
sequently utterly unable to suggest to you any confirmation
or contradiction of them.
“I am, Sir,
“Your most obedient
“Humble servant,
“GEO. CANNING."
A letter from Mr. Huskisson shows that Mr. Canning's
return, or stay, had become a point of political importance.
“Whitehall Place, Monday.
“SIR,
“I wished to see you principally for the purpose of
setting right the mis-statement of the morning papers, that
Mr. Canning was returning home. But this I see you
have already done, in the ‘Sun 'of Saturday. If you can
call here for five minutes, I should, however, be glad to
have a little conversation with you on the subject.
“I remain, Sir,
“Your obliged, humble servant,
“ W. HUSKISSON.”
My interviews with Mr. Huskisson were always of a con-
fidential nature. Mr. Arbuthnot I saw almost every day,
64 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
and learnt what was on the tapis—amusing myself some-
times, in his room or ante-room, when kept waiting too
long for my impatience, in turning over the Treasury
volume of Recommendations, and notes thereupon, which I
assure you was a queer and entertaining book” but with
Mr. Huskisson, the communications went beyond “the
ignorant present,” and were, to me, in my position, singularly
valuable. Like Mr. Canning, he would discourse over the
business, whatever it was, with utter frankness, tell me the
truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, and then
wind up—“Now, Mr. Editor, this is not for statement or
display of information ; it is for yourself, and for your
guidance in any reasoning you may be called upon to use
on the subject.”
In writing, matters were not more reserved ; thus:–
“Whitehall Place, 20th July.
“MR. HUSKISSON takes the liberty of sending to
Mr. Jerdan what he believes to be a correct statement of
facts respecting Mr. Canning. He troubles him with this
statement, in consequence of what has appeared in the
“Morning Chronicle’ of this day, and leaves to Mr. Jerdan
to use it as he may think proper.”
The article in the “Sun" was as follows:–
“The ‘Morning Chronicle' is correct in stating, on the
authority of the ‘Sun' of the 18th, that Mr. Canning is not
coming home. The report of a frigate having been sent
out for him, is unfounded. But the remainder of the
“Morning Chronicle's 'information respecting Mr. Canning
is altogether false. Mr. Canning is not ‘left at Lisbon to
* Appendix C.
CANNING : HUSKISSON. 65
execute the important duties of Ambassador to three Deputy
Regents and an empty Court.' *
“At this moment, Mr. Canning, we believe, holds no
public situation whatever.
“Upon the first rumour which reached Lisbon that the
Prince Regent of Portugal hesitated about returning to his
European dominions for the present, and before any notice
was taken of the rumour in the House of Commons,
Mr. Canning had actually written to the Foreign Office to
mention the report which had reached Lisbon ; and to
request, in the event of its being ascertained in England
that the Prince Regent was not about to return, that he
might be permitted to resign his Embassy.
“This request was acceded to as soon as it was known,
by the arrival of Sir John Beresford in England, that the
Prince Regent of Portugal had resolved to continue for
some time longer at Rio de Janeiro ; and, whatever may
have been surmised in the “Chronicle' or elsewhere, ‘that
he never intended to return, we can positively affirm, that
it was only a very few days before Sir John Beresford's
departure from Rio de Janeiro, that the Prince Regent had
finally made up his mind to postpone his return to Lisbon.
“Mr. Canning, as a private individual, will continue to
reside in Portugal, from the motive which originally induced
him to visit that country—the hope of restoring the health
of his son. When the last accounts were received from
Lisbon, Mr. Canning was with his son at the Baths of
Caldas; and we are happy to be assured that his severe
illness and sufferings have been much relieved and alleviated
by his residence in Portugal.”
The poor boy was indeed a great sufferer, and constant
source of anxiety and affliction to his most affectionate
parents. No climate could restore him.
* Appendix D.
WOL. II. F
66 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
CHAPTER WII.
--->–
VOLCANOES IN THE SUN : A CHARACTER.
“He was a man, take him for all in all,
I ne'er shall look upon his like again.”—SHAKSPEARE.
* Detraction’s a bold monster, and fears not
To wound the fame of princes, if it find
But any blemish in their lives to work on.”—MAssiNGER.
“Still to ourselves in every state consigned,
Our own felicity we make or find.”—GoLDSMITH.
HE is a slow fellow, Time ; yet, at his slowest, it is
wonderful how fast he creeps on. The tortoise overtakes
and passes all the speed of this world ! and, in the mean-
while, he who sleeps has no care for him who wakes, and
so the great globe rolls on with its busy mites and fluttering
insects.
To look at it in this light seems to be almost the most
natural and wise ; for when we fall into the very serious view,
it inflicts a reproach upon earnest philanthropy and cosmo-
polite virtue. We may see the mites and the insects depart
without a sigh, but it is grievous to mark the humane
efforts and the earthly reward of the truly good. Labouring
to be a benefactor to his fellow-creatures, and, perhaps,
aspiring to immortality, he struggles, he pants, he gains
the portal of the temple of Fame, in self-sacrifice, in legisla-
tion, in science, in art, in literature; and lo! Death opens
VOLCANOES IN THE SUN : A CHARACTER. 67
his bony arms to embrace and wrap him in everlasting
darkness.
The Scottish admirers of Burns, the greatest of Scotia's
bards, having proceeded to a promising length with the
design for erecting a mausoleum to his memory at Dumfries,
I was invited to adopt the cause, which I heartily did, and
on the 19th of June addressed the public on the patriotic
object. I called the attention of the sons of Scotland in
the Metropolis to it, and exhorted them to evince their
admiration of their native poet, and attachment to their
native land. Much, I said, had the country been reproached
with indifference to the fate of her ornament when living ;
but, without entering into the painful merits or demerits of
that question, I deplored any coldness towards the promo-
tion of this last tribute to the dead, when there were no
frailties to censure and no errors to condemn, as it would,
indeed, be a disgrace to that land of worth and genius. My
appeal was warmly responded to ; though it was not till
the 25th of May ensuing that all the necessary preparations
could be completed, and the meeting at the Freemasons'
Tavern, with the Earl of Aberdeen in the chair, carried into
effect. Reserving an account of this gratifying transaction
for the proper date of its occurrence, I shall not dwell much
longer on the circumstances of 1815. Yet, in this year,
a coming event cast its shadow before, which had a most
essential bearing on all my future life : I allude to the
violent quarrel which arose between me and my colleague,
Mr. John Taylor, or, rather, I should say, his quarrel with
me; for, in truth, the affair was altogether so irrational,
that I could not for a long time bring myself to treat it
seriously ; and it was only when the consequences began to
be ruinous, that I could think of it otherwise than in the
ludicrous words of George Colman, when he described the
F 2
68 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
ambitious David Daw as refusing to play the hind parts in
the skins of animals:—
“Of all insides, the town likes me the best ;
Over my head no underlings shall jump :
I’ll play you front legs, shoulders, neck, and breast,
But, d-me, if I act your loins and rump.
“It was the strangest precedent, by far,
In ancient, or in modern story,
Of such a desperate intestine war !
Waged in so small a territory !”—
If Sir Robert Peel and Daniel O'Connell would endeavour
to fight a duel about the same period—the month of October
—it was a bagatelle compared to our feud. Yet, of the
former, Mr. Freeling wrote to me, “I am very sorry that
the life of two clever, sensible men, like Saxton and Peel,
are to be put to hazard in such a case 1 / 1' Desperate as
we were, our lives were, fortunately, in no jeopardy; but,
if they had been, nobody could truly have said of us that it
was a risk of sensible men . It was, really, so like
a tale of sound and fury told by an idiot, that its coming to
nothing was my long-confirmed idea. Perhaps this was
unfortunate ; and, if I had maturely considered and weighed
matters at first, the results, disastrous as they were to both
parties, might have been mitigated or avoided.
As the dispute, however, led to personal consequences of
the utmost importance to me, I am obliged to relate the
story at some length ; and, painful as it was at the time,
and distressing in its finale, I will, nevertheless, endeavour
to tell it in such a manner that it shall not fatigue nor
ennuye my readers. Critical moments of life, so fearful in
the approach to them, so agitating in their climax, and so
pregnant in their futurity, only require a turn of the hour-
glass to become no more fearful, no more agitating, and far
WOLCANOES IN THE SUN : A CHARACTER. 69
less overwhelming ; and, turn the glass two or three times
more, and you are astonished that you ever feared so much,
were ever so strangely agitated, and that the sequel is so
different from what you anticipated. There is an excellent
axiom ascribed to the first of the wealthy Rothschilds—
“Never look back, always look forward,” implying the vanity
of useless regrets, and the worldly wisdom of planning for
the future, without being disturbed by apprehensions which
were equally vain and useless, as they could have no
influence on “the event.” Before and After, in a human
life point of vision, are almost as distinct as Time and
Eternity. Within a very few years I could look back on
my troubles in the “Sun” with complacency; and before
he died I had the satisfaction of hearing, and, when in my
presence, earnestly endeavouring to stop, my old friend and
enemy in his voluble protestations of sorrow that he had ever
been so misled and so provoked. And then it was that I
took myself to task, and thought if it were to do again, I
might have adopted a more conciliatory course.
The “Sun” newspaper had been declining for some time,
or, as Mr. Fladgate expressed it, “The Sun was going
down, in a very hazy set,” when the proprietors did me the
honour to select me from among the press writers, to
conduct its editorship, with the hope of improving its con-
dition. I joyfully accepted this advance in station, though
not in income ; for, as I stated in my former volume,
my provincial engagements and reporter's salary con-
siderably overbalanced any emoluments I could expect from
a struggling daily journal. But there was the sanguine
temperament of my nature, and the hope that I should be
the Phoebus, instead of the Icarus, to drive the God-chariot
to a comfortable coachhouse, and so I gave up nearly all else
—all that required the expenditure of time and much mind,
70 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
and took the reins of that same Phoebus, or, as after a few
annual drives turned up, of that same Icarus. -
The fact is not to be concealed that Mr. Herriot the
original editor and principal proprietor of the journal,
Mr. Robert Clarke, my precursor, and a considerable pro-
prietor, did attribute the decline of the paper to Mr. Taylor's
unfitness to take a lead in such a publication, and were
anxious to change the system. For this I was sought and
brought in ; and, always faithful to my own determined
independence, I became a partner, receiving one-tenth share,
and taking an allowance of between five and six hundred
pounds a-year for editing, with uncontrolled and uncontrollable
authority ; Mr. Herriot retaining five shares, Mr. Clarke
three, and Mr. Taylor one, like myself. Thus we went on
harmoniously for awhile, till in an unlucky—as far as I
was concerned, an injurious moment—Messrs. Herriot and
Clarke” thought fit to sell their shares to Mr. Taylor, for-
getting that but for their first intention to supersede his
deteriorating writings, I would not have been there—and
thus making him, to an immense extent, the chief proprietor,
and me in that sense, an underling, yet in all else a political
and literary despot.
When this apple of discord was thrown in, it may readily
be conceived what it must lead to. Taylor, proprietor of
nine-tenths of a rising journal, for it had risen several
hundreds under my management, presumed that he had a
* Such statements as I make in this way are the undisguised truth.
I think I have attained the power to judge of myself as accurately as I
would of another person; and I have nothing of this kind to hide.
Mr. Robert Clarke, as estimable a man as ever lived, was tired of his
office, and of differing from Mr. Taylor. He yielded, to avoid the
unpleasantness, and in selling to Taylor, not only preferred his own ease,
but forgot that he was putting me, his friend, into a much worse position.
I write now with such a witness as Mr. T. Clarke, his very near relative,
the Solicitor to the Board of Ordnance, in possession of every fact.
WOLCANOES IN THE SUN : A CHARACTER, 71
right, at once, to annul my contract, insert what he thought
fit, and abolish the Dictator :
Such was the origin of our contention. Taylor would
write friendly, or what are called puff, notices of parties, so
objectionable to my notions of (to say the least) public pro-
priety, that I would not publish them. Whether the
immoralities were lofty, dramatic, or peculiar, I resisted,
and—let me make a clean breast so far—whatever my own
fallings-off might be, I never consented to the promulgation
of an opinion or sentiment in the press under my direction,
that could deprave the moral obligations of society, or
Sully the purity of innocence. But before I go on, I must
beg leave to sketch a portrait of John Taylor, who was a
remarkable individual in his day, and has left behind him
memorials, not only of curious, but of lasting interest.
John Taylor was the son, or it may be grandson, of
(temporally) a yet more celebrated sire, the Chevalier
Taylor, of whom, notwithstanding his fame, I will venture
to guess, not one in a thousand of my readers ever heard.
Yet he was in his time a glorious quack oculist, or
“Opthalmiater,” as he styled himself, though—
Fickle fame
Has blotted from her rolls his name,
And twined round some new minion's head
The faded wreath for which he bled.
His three volumes in one, 8vo, 1761, is so curious, that I
will give a brief notice of it.*
John Taylor, of the “Sun,” was a singular character,
and known to “all the world: ” that is to say, the London
world of quidnuncs, playgoers, performers, artists, literati,
and the moving ranks of every-day society. He was a very
amusing companion, exceedingly facetious, full of anecdote,
* See Appendix E.
72 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
and endless in witticisms and puns. Yet mixing, as he did,
with meh of great information, and hearing, of necessity,
much of solid intelligence and instructive observation, his
mind was of such a cast that he either wanted perception to
appreciate the value of such intercourse, or it made too
slight an impression upon him to be remembered. In fact,
his whole being was entranced upon the stage, in the
theatre and theatrical doings and gossip, and in the actors
and actresses, with nearly all of whom he lived in intimacy.
Even the foremost of these, it is well understood, are not un-
susceptible of flattery, and Taylor knew how to fool them to
the top of their bent, and be a mighty favourite in conse-
quence. Of prologues and epilogues he was a most prolific
writer, and for versification on all sorts of subjects, he might
have said with Linnaeus, “Nulla dies sine linea; ” only for
“line '’ reading “stanza ‘’ or “verse.” His facility of
composition was enormous. Tell him what you would, and
suggest that it was a nice thing for a poem, and off he
would rush to his room, get out his rhyming dictionary, and
in a very short space of time, present you with the work
done, cut and dry, generally, tolerably meat, and occasionally a
successful hit. In this way was the clever and justly popular
story of “Monsieur Tonson ’’ written, and other tales, such
as “Frank Hayman and the Lion,” hardly less entertaining,
which will make his name known to succeeding generations.
A volume of these effusions was published by John Murray in
1812, and would, in my opinion, be well worthy of a reprint.
In person, my co-partner was as peculiar as in intellect.
His features were of a form which resembled an animated
death's head, covered with thin muscles and skin ; his body
rather tapered from the haunch to the shoulder in the sugar
loaf fashion; and below, his limbs were muscular and well
built, as his casing in knee-breeches and silk stockings
WOLCANOES IN THE SUN : A CHARACTER. 73
was properly calculated to display. This embodiment, his
frequent associate, the humourous George Colman, described
in his own laughable manner by nicknaming Taylor,
“Merry-death” (Meredith, most appropriate to his physiog-
nomy,) and declaring that “Taylor's body would do for any
legs, and his legs for any body ”
It is difficult to portray the mental structure contained
in this casket; for it was a congeries of contradictions; which
I can only account for by re-stating that Mr. Taylor was a
being of the artificial stage, not of the actual living world.
He was acute, yet trifling; experienced, yet foolish; knowing
in one sense, yet absurdly plotting as in a play ; and looking
for surprises and dénouements, as if the game of life were a
comedy or a farce. Over his passions he had no control,
and though habitually good humoured, his recurrent phren-
sies were at once ludicrous and afflicting. At the wildest
time of our differences he would cast himself down upon his
knees, clasp his hands, gnash his teeth, and imprecate
curses on my head for five minutes together, till some one
humanely lifted him up and led him away to privacy. This
incongenial merriment and outrageous outbreaks of temper
alternated, and actions and effects, as in everything else, were
redolent of the theatrical element, and had nothing in common
with the common sense of mankind. In my case his disorder
became a complete monomania. He thought of nothing, he
talked of nothing, he wrote of nothing, he dreamed of nothing
but my villany and oppression ; he worried ministers with
them, he distressed friends, he bored the town, he disturbed
the office, and he ruined the paper. I know not if I have
succeeded in conveying an intelligible idea of the individual
with whom it was my luckless lot to be so closely connected.
I have truly represented his smartness, his talents, and his
ability ; nature had not been niggardly towards him ; but
74 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
his perversion behind the footlights and in the coulisses, had
sadly defeated nature, and made him the extraordinary
compound I have tried to depict. It will hardly be believed,
and I would scarcely dare to state it, but there are many
living witnesses to the fact, that Mr. Taylor's ignorance of
matters familiar even to uneducated persons and children
was utterly astonishing, and could hardly be believed
possible to exist in unison with such faculties as he was in
reality blessed with. It was a psychological enigma. On
one occasion when we were disputing about some political
article, in the presence of Mr. Clarke (all whose efforts, as
well as those of other friends, were employed in vain to
reason with Taylor, and procure a temperate compromise), I
seriously offered to resign to him the exposition of the Sun
politics if he could, at the moment, and without reference to
a book on geography, repeat the names of the capitals of
the principal nations in Europe. He could no more have
done this, as I was quite aware, than he could have flown
to them ; and, of course, he did not accept the challenge.
Another instance of this remarkable discrepancy occurs
to me. Mrs. Taylor, an amiable and excellent lady of good
family in Scotland, went on a visit to that country, by the
usual mode of conveyance, a Leith smack ; upon which
Mr. Taylor, who be-rhymed almost every incident, wrote as
usual a short poem. It commenced—
“Hail, Sister Isles 1’’ *
* Reminding me of a Cornish lady of fortune, who, being desirous of
poetic fame, commenced an epic with—
“See orient beams the setting sun.”
I corrected her MS., and the poem was published; with the sunset, as
usual, in the west, and a few other matters made more conformable to
generally received notions !
WOLCANOES IN THE SUN : A CHARACTER. 75
And it was with much argument in reference to the map
he could be persuaded that England and Scotland were but
one island, and that Mrs. Taylor might have gone by land,
although she chose to go by sea.
I beg readers to credit me when I declare on my veracity
and honour, that I have drawn this curious sketch of character,
and recorded these circumstances, with no design to caricature
or disparage the original. His idiosyncracy was, as I have
said, a perplexing study ; and whilst I have attempted to
illustrate it, I have not failed, I trust, to preserve a
memorial of the superior and laudable qualities with
which the irrational and extravagant of his temperament
and disposition were (for both our interests) unhappily
combined.
Our disputes increased in frequency and bitterness. I
refused to insert some of his paragraphs in commendation
of parties whose conduct I deemed inconsistent with
public decorum, and entertainments which offended public
opinion. This he viewed as presumptuous tyranny ; a
small shareholder domineering over an elder and much
larger proprietor; and his rage boiled up into absolute
fury, nearly allied to madness. And another interference
added fuel to the flames, and heaped up the measure of
my flagrant iniquities. One of our mutual friends was
Mr. Acheson, famed as the founder, or at least, prominent
promoter of the Pitt Club ; and it so happened that at
this time his private views in regard to the treaty” with
America clashed with those of the government. He had
* On the substance of this treaty he wrote to me in a long letter,
“cramming” me with his opinions. He says: “On the substance of this
treaty, as communicated to the public, I am afraid to trust myself. I look
to its publication in detail with fear and trembling.” And so, I was to
be induced to fly in the face of the Ministry who concluded this treaty,
and whose measures I so zealously supported -
76 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
an important interest in the settlement relating to the
export and import of Canadian timber ; and was anxious
to influence the “Sun" in promoting his objects. To
this I was intractable ; and his next resource was to work
upon the weakness of Mr. Taylor, and aggravate his
resentment against me. In this he succeeded but too well.
I might have got Taylor to modify the incongenial trifles
to which I objected, but there were no means by which
I could get the policy of the paper, as required by Acheson,
to be consistent with its whole tone and tenor. The
obstacles were irremovable, and hence our quarrel was
rendered irreconcilable. Taylor in an evil hour linked
himself to Acheson, who led him through years of delusion
into pecuniary distress; and bitterly did he repent of it,
and loudly, towards the close of his life, did he lament the
dissension thus exasperated between us, and confess that
his conduct towards me was most blameable and indecent.
“But for that man,” he one day proclaimed in his excited
manner before many wondering witnesses, in the British
Institution, “we might both have ridden in our carriages.
I pray you to forgive me!” For poor Taylor had been
taught suffering, and gave me more pain in the utterance
of his sincere apologies than he had done by his impreca-
tions in bygone times. Indeed, he was equally the
creature of impulse in both cases; there was, I believe,
after all, no permanent malevolence or evil in the heart—
the defect was in the head, and the error was in the
reason. In his ungovernable ebullitions he was crazed ;
and by and by he would not have harmed me to the
extent of a hair. One week was curses, the next puns,
epigrams, and impromptus : strange anomaly | I look
back upon the past with strong emotions of grief and
pity, and an entire and kindly forgiveness of all that
WOLCANOES IN THE SUN : A CHARACTER. 77
vexed me so severely at the time, and left me so much
cause of regret.
Matters had grown to such a pitch that the business
of the journal was essentially injured, and on the
22nd of September, for self-preservation, I felt myself
called upon to publish the following “Notice to Cor-
respondents:”—
“All communications for “THE SUN’ newspaper, must
in future be addressed to the sole editor and part
proprietor, William Jerdan. No other will be attended
to.”
This was repeated the next day, and for a short while
the storm appeared to be allayed, and the work of the
concern was allowed to be executed without material
interruption. But all the while the tempest was
brewing, and on the 15th of October, in spite of my
remonstrances and prohibition, Mr: Taylor obtained the
annexed and rather unintelligible counter manifesto to be
inserted :- -
“To Correspondents. Mr. John Taylor, the chief and
the resident proprietor of “THE SUN,” requests that his
friends will address all communications intended for in-
sertion, to him only, at this office. Letters in general, to
be addressed as usual, to the editor.”
This also was repeated three or four times; and the
internecine contest raged with an effect which rapidly
deteriorated the property and diminished the circulation
of the paper. It was obvious that it could not, and it
would not come to good. The persons employed did not
know whom to obey, and personal scenes of discreditable
squabbling were of daily occurrence. On the 27th of the
month my offences were consummated in a poetical
wrangle. Under the head of “Original Poetry,”
78 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
against my opposing it, there appeared from the pen of
Mr. Taylor a-
SONNET.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LORD BYRON.
Byron whose spells imagination bind,
And storm or soothe the ductile heart at will,
Ah ! since the muse can paint, with equal skill,
Each bold or softer trage of human kind,
Rapt in the glowing energy of mind,
Let not the scenes of woe and danger still
”Whelm us with anguish, or with horror chill,
For sure thou now can'st fairer prospects find.
And since benignant Heaven has joined thy fate
To worth and graces all who know admire,
Led by the virtues of thy honoured mate,
Devote to happier themes thy potent lyre,
So may ye share on earth a blissful state
Till both, resigned in age, at once expire. (Signed) T.
I disliked this indifferent composition, not only for its
poetical demerits, but for its bad taste, as I conceived,
in meddling with private life, and its inconsistency in so
highly eulogising, whilst pretending to advise, an individual
whose productions had been criticised in a different spirit
in the same paper. That I did not act prudently in mani-
festing this sentiment I am ready to admit, but next day
there appeared in a corresponding place at the head of a
column, the subjoined—
PARODY
on A sonNET To Lord BYRoN, IN THE “sun * of YESTERDAY.
Byron, whose spells imagination bºnd,
Strange spells which turn the silly head at will,
Ah! since thy muse can paint with equal skill,
Thy Prince a “Vice,” or father most unkind;
(Rapt in the glowing energy of mind,)
Let not the plans of rage and faction still
"Whelm us with falsehood, or with rancour chill,
For sure thou now may’st fitter subjects find.
WOLCANOES IN THE SUN : A CHARACTER, 79
And since the parish priest has joined thy fate,
To one thou must, since all who know admire,
Led by thy nose, pray moderate thy hate,
And tune to loyal themes thy shameful lyre ;
So may ye share on earth a safe estate,
And not exalted in the air—expire.
(Signed) W. J. ExtEMPorf,
Poet Laureate.
To fight in prose was bad enough, but to fight in doggrel
verse was enough to precipitate a climax, and accordingly
on the morrow, Mr. Taylor advertised the readers of the
“Sun,” under what atrocious circumstances my tasteless
and ill-written sonnet had affronted the world:—
“TO CORRESPONDENTS.”
“Mr. John Taylor, in justice to himself, as the chief
proprietor of the ‘Sun 'newspaper, deems it proper for his
own credit, and that of the paper, to inform the public, that
the attack upon the Right Honourable Lord Byron, which
appeared in the ‘Sun' of yesterday, in the form of a
mock sonnet was written by Mr. William Jerdan, of Little
Chelsea, late of Old Brompton, and is signed with the initials
of his name.
“P.S. The article in question was, of course, inserted
without Mr. Taylor's knowledge, and during his absence.”
With this stinger, and one more agreeable recollection,
I must conclude, to me, a very disagreeable chapter; and
I only hope my readers will not fall into the mistake of
fancying that I have given them too much of a good
thing.
Among the friendly intimacies I made in the Sun, I
ought not to omit Mr. W. Giffard, the Editor of the
Dublin Journal, and a red-hot Tory. On his visits to
80 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
London, our intercourse was very cordial and pleasant.
His son, Dr. Giffard,” is now one of the ablest political
writers of the age ; and, educated under such a father, it
is not surprising that he should be as zealous as he is
powerful; as is testified by the “Standard ” newspaper, and
everywhere else where his pen is wielded. Party spirit
raged, as it too generally does in Dublin at this time, and
was attended by continual duels, in superseding which
there is undoubtedly some improvement. It was upon one
of those occasions that Giffard, being called out, appeared
on the ground with his spectacles on. This was objected
to by his adversary's second, and he was desired to take
them off, which he did, exclaiming, “By my soul, this is
too bad. I could not see to shoot my own father without
them l’’
* The late Sir Hardinge Giffard was another distinguished branch of
his family, inheriting also very superior abilities.
INTERLUDE WARIETIES. 81
CHAPTER VIII.
INTERLUIDE WARIETIES.
How happy is the bard,
Whose book no one peruses'
Except himself;
For, unread on the shelf,
They think his case is hard,
He thinks on't what he chuses.
Happy Bard tº
With my readers' permission I will for a while leave this
“very pretty quarrel,” as it stood, on the poetical issues I
have quoted ; and glance over a period during which various
other matters occurred to divert my mind from the editorial
toil and annoyance of my broiling in the “Sun.” Among
the pleasant reliefs from this coil of trouble and vexation, was
the continued enjoyment of the family circle of Mr. Begbie,
whose two eldest daughters, afterwards the wives of Captain
Foote, in the East India Company's service, and of the
Rev. Dr. Croly, contributed a number of graceful little
poems to the paper, under the signatures of Anna and
Helen. Their example was followed with equal talent by
the third sister, Fanny ; and it may be worthy of notice,
* From a little Poem by W. Jerdan, “The Happy Bard ' " repeated
by a friend, who remembers much more of him and his earlier attempts
than he does himself.
WOL. II, G
82 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
that Dr. Croly’s own sisters were also accomplished
poetesses, and that his eldest daughter has inherited the
gift. If the day of poetry were in the ascendant, I should
say that a sweet volume might be culled out of their pro-
ductions; but as it is, they must be left to the dispersion
of their first birth, and, perhaps, the only recognition of them
be found in this brief notice, by an old friend who has
to mourn them, nearly all, among the lost, from his earlier
affections. - -
Another of Mr. Southey's jewa, was in the autumn played
off, like the “March to Moscow,” given in the Appendix to
my first volume; and though not so striking as that telling
hit, is yet so clever a satire upon Lord Byron's affected
Misanthropy, that I am sure it will be relished alike by
the lovers of poetry and wit. I was not so much mystified
with it as with its precursor: here it is, in the body of the
text, and not in the Appendix, as there seems to be a
sort of notion, that what is “ Appendix” is not Auto-
biography, though it is in reality all part and parcel of the
same design.
LANGUISHING LYRICS;
OR THE LAMENTABLE LOVES OF THE LACHRY MOSE LORD AND THE
LUGUBRIOUS LADY.
“The tears live in an onion that should water this Sorrow.”
SHAKSPEARE.
A damsel there was, and her surname was Thrope,
And her Christian name was Ann;
Few lovers had she for her favours to hope,
For she was a hater of man ;-
And heartily she detested the sex,
And her only amusement was to vex,
And every thought of pleasure perplex ;-
Oh Thrope Ann Thrope Oh Miss Ann Thrope
On the pensoroso plan.
LANGUISHING LYRICS. 83
This sorrowful damsel, Miss Ann Thrope,
Thought laughter a mortal sin;
As soon in the morn as her eyes did ope,
To weep they did begin.
For her highest luxury was to grieve,
And in company to cry in her sleeve,
And as long as her shadow lengthened at eve,
Oh Thrope 1 Ann Thrope Oh Miss Ann Thrope 1
She was sure to lengthen her chin.
Such sentimentality, Miss Ann Thrope
Expected all would admire ;
So she studied to mumble, mump, and mope,
Like a cat by the kitchen fire.
The joys of the world she turned into woes,
And whenever she stoop'd to pluck a rose,
She took care to scratch her unfortunate nose;—
Oh Thrope Ann Thrope Oh Miss Ann Thrope 1
By smelling too near the briar.
Sure nobody else but Miss Ann Thrope
In sorrow would waste the day,
And go out of their road for griefs to grope,
When so many are in the way;
But she in a tombstone made her bed,
And epitaphs all night she read,
And with dying speeches bother'd her head;—
Oh Thrope Ann Thrope Oh Miss Ann Thrope
Till she sent her brains astray.
When my lord came wooing to Miss Ann Thrope,
He was just a CHILDF from school;
He paid his addresses in a Trope,
And called her his pretty Bul-BUL.
But she knew not in the modern scale,
That a couple of Bulls was a Nightingale;—
So full in his face she turned her tail—
Oh Thrope Ann Thrope Oh Miss Ann Thrope I
As sweet as a fresh-blown Gül.
Then he sent a love-sonnet to Miss Ann Thrope,
Four stanzas of elegant woe ;
The letters were cut in a comical slope,
With Zoom uov oras a yatra.
'Twas all about Rivals, and Ruins, and Racks;
The bearer was drest in a new suit of blacks;
The paper was sable, and so was the wax—
Oh Thrope 1 Ann Thrope Oh Miss Ann Thrope!
And his pen was the quill of a Crow.
84
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
What queer-looking words, thought Miss Ann Thrope,
To tag at the tail of a Distich !
So she clapped her eye to a microscope,
To get at their sense cabalistic.
He swore in the Hellespont he’d fall,
If she would not go with him to IsTAMBoI, ;
But all she would answer was tol-de-rol-lol—
Oh Thrope: Ann Thrope Oh Miss Ann Thropel
To his Lordship's Rhymes Hellenistic.
Then the Peer he said—Oh Miss Ann Thrope,
Since life is a fading flower,
You'll do me the favour to elope
With your own dear faithful GIAouR.
And as for your father, your mother, and aunt,
The family all I will enchant,
By reading of a Romaic Romaunt—
Oh Thrope 1 Ann Thrope Oh Miss Ann Thrope
Till they shed of tears a shower.
His Lordship he read, and Miss Ann Thrope
Was obliged to praise his wit:
But as the poetry seemed rather sop-
Orific, she dozed a bit.
*Till, quite overwhelm'd with slumber and sorrow,
A yawn or two she begg’d leave to borrow—
And said, if he'd call again to-morrow—
Oh Thrope I Oh Ann Oh Miss Ann Thrope
He might read a second FYTTE.
He read till he wept, but Miss Ann Thrope
Declared it was all my eye ;
She called him a Jew, and wish'd the Pope
Had his Hebrew melody.
Said my lord, “I beg you will call it E E,
And as whilom you have listened me,
I’ll be off to the Paynim8 beyond the sea—
Oh Thrope Oh Ann Oh Miss Ann Thrope
And leave you ºftsoons to die.”
Ah who could resist?—not Miss Ann Thrope—
A CoRs AIR hove in sight;
My lord he bid him throw out a rope,
And hold it fast and tight.
So then they put it to the vote,
He tipp'd the Lozel, a one-pound note,
And they jump'd together into the boat—
Oh Thrope Oh Ann " Oh Miss Ann Thrope!
And bid her Papa Good NIGHT.
MR. BULLOCK : CURIOSITIES. 85
Desirous of avoiding monotony, and preserving the
character of this work, as being as desultory and change-
able as human life itself, I will place in juxta-position with
Mr. Southey's piece of humour, a matter-of-fact letter from
an esteemed friend, still rejoicing, I hope, in easy retire-
ment, on the fruits of an enterprising career, seldom
equalled by any individual, and productive of public
exhibitions, paving the way for a multitude of imitative
speculations, which have all conduced to the gratification
and instruction of the “masses,” and their younger
branches. The builder of the Egyptian Hall, in Piccadilly,
was, in his busy time, no ordinary man. His Whales, his
admirable collections of Natural History, his Mexican travels,
and illustrations brought home to our doors, his Laplanders
and their deer, and many other novelties, were truly new
lessons, from which the people of London and their visitors
learnt things in their sensible realities about which they
were previously either altogether ignorant, or most im-
perfectly informed. Such a man does infinite good. He
does not set up as a teacher—a showman, if you like—but
he conveys more intelligence to the public mind, than a
multitude of pseudo-dogmatists, and even able lecturers and
writers. To compare the intelligence of a respectable
London citizen at the beginning of the century, with the
present information of a person of a much inferior class,
would be the highest eulogium that could be pronounced
upon the great and beneficial effects of such institutions as
Zoological and Botanical Gardens, and of the intercourse
generated, and knowledge acquired, in consequence of steam
conveyances on land and water. I remember asking a
Manchester warehouseman, in a goodly way of business in
Cheapside (pretty well on a par with others in conversa-
tion), if he knew what like an owl was : to which he
86 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
answered—“No, Sir, I have seed a mouse, and a rat, but
I never seed a howl.” There were no gardens in the
Regent's Park in those days, and the majority of Cockney-
land were very ignorant of many things with which they are
now, from daily habit, perfectly conversant. I held with
Mr. Bullock in all his undertakings, admired his indefatigable
energy, and wondered at the tact by which he perceived
attraction after attraction, and never failed to gratify the
“world.” The following letter from him is so characteristic,
and so curious in its way, that I have much pleasure in
making the manuscript print. -
“Museum, Tuesday.
“DEAR SIR,
“It will perhaps be necessary, on entering on my
career as an auctioneer, to make some kind of a little intro-
ductory address to my auditors on the occasion. Will you,
my good sir, furnish me with such a thing ? it will render
me a service, and I will not remain in your debt for it. All
I wish to observe is, that from the local knowledge I
possess of many of the articles, and to insure their coming
fairly before the public, induces me to sell them myself,
without any of the manoeuvres sometimes resorted to in a
sale of this description, and particularly to impress on the
minds of my hearers that every article is fairly and without
reserve before them.
“When I come to the Buonapartian subject, perhaps it
may not be amiss to mention what is most singular in my
history, that everything that originated with Napoleon has
been successful. I have put it down in my uncouth way,
on a separate paper, and shall be obliged by your opinion
and correction. -
“Yours, very truly,
“W. BULLOCK.
MR. BULLOCK : BUONAPARTE RELICS. 87
“I cannot help feeling a kind of superstitious fear and
interest for the fate of Napoleon, on account of the remark-
able coincidence and kind of dependence on advantage
derived to myself from everything originating or arising
from that man. An accidental possession of a medal of
him, when General Buonaparte (one of the first portraits of
him that came to England), laid the foundation of the
London Museum. A purchase in France of his property
was the most advantageous speculation I ever made ; but
the personal property left me, as a last legacy, by the
Emperor on the evening of his political death of the
memorable 18th of June, and transmitted me through the
hands of the Prince Regent, was more advantageous in a
pecuniary point of view than the entire labours of my life.
I allude to his far-famed Military Carriage, which, with its
curious and valuable contents, as is well known, became my
property: these (like Elijah's mantle) gave me the power
of accomplishing, in a few months, what, with all his talents,
riches, and armies, he could never succeed in doing ; for in
that short period I over-ran England, Ireland, and Scotland,
levying a willing contribution on upwards of 800,000 of his
Majesty's subjects; for old and young, rich and poor, clergy
and laity, all ages, sexes, and conditions, flocked to pay
their poll-tax, and gratify their curiosity by an examination
of the spoils of the dead lion. But those days are passed ;
the meteor is extinguished, like the dream of greatness
which intoxicated the man himself; but still the influence
of Napoleon on my destinies seems to exist, for in the cases
that I received from his Royal Highness the Prince
Regent, has been discovered a talisman, whose magic
power was to act after that of its original possessor had
for ever ceased; a talisman whose single touch will, in a
short time, take from me and scatter over the world the
88 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
whole of what I have received from its late master, as well
as every production of earth, air, and water, of every clime
in the habitable globe, which my whole life has been devoted
to bring together ; but, although it will inevitably deprive me
of what has been my pride and pleasure, it will probably—”
A hole in the ballad; the letter is unfinished.
Before opening his Exhibition, our skilful provider for
popular curiosity brought over Buonaparte's coachman, who
had been reported killed on the box, when attacked by
Baron Koehler's lancers, and who had indeed been very
severely wounded, and left for dead on the field, with the
loss of his right arm. He added greatly to the attraction,
and had driven the Emperor on his various and extensive
travels even beyond Moscow, and on the flight back, during
the last seven years. His master, he stated, had not been
in the carriage for some hours before it was taken ; but
had passed it on horseback about ten minutes before, giving
orders that it should follow him—Sauve qui peut 1 I was
interested in all Bullock's exhibitions; and indeed in all
novelties of the kind, and for some twenty-five years there
was not a known show or curiosity, from the charge of a
halfpenny to a guinea, that I did not see. I went with the
Laplanders to the Haymarket Theatre, and remember their
ecstacies whilst the orchestra were tuning their instruments,
only equalled by their disappointment and dislike when they
came to play a tune. Lap ears preferred discord to har-
mony, beyond all comparison. I was detected by Charles
Kemble peeping into a halfpenny show, in some street
about Long-Acre ; in short, giants, dwarfs, mermaids,
Albinos, Hottentot Venuses, animals with more heads or
legs than “they ought to,” and all other curiosities and
monstrosities, were “my affections.”
“THE PARIS SPECTATOR.” 89
I am not quite sure as to the precise dates of the following
letters. They refer to the Post Office, and the death of
Mr. Palmer, the regenerator of the Post Office, and do
honour to the writer, my friend, Mr. Freeling, who so
efficiently carried out his reforms, and added so largely
to the revenue of the country. The welcome change in
the system introduced by Mr. Rowland Hill, takes nothing
from the merits of the former improvement, and the skill
and ability with which it was framed and effected.
“G. P. O., Saturday.
“DEAR JERDAN,
“I have been much occupied officially and by
domestic occurrences. I ought to have written to you
without delay, not to send to me the biographical sketch
of my deeply lamented friend, Palmer.
“I now return it, not being at liberty to alter or to add
to it. I understand some friend of the family has the
subject in contemplation. I cannot, therefore, say anything
to Colonel or Captain Palmer respecting it.
“I lived thirty-five years in the most affectionate inter-
course with this excellent man, whose like I shall never
look upon again. I was not aware of the early circum-
stances of his life, which you have stated.*
“Yours truly,
** F. FREELING.”
“G. P. O., Saturday.
“DEAR JERDAN,
“Pray let me know what fair remuneration must
be made for the short-hand report of the debate on the
* I find this refers to a biography of Palmer, published in the “Literary
Gazette,” Sept. 5, 1818. Mr. Palmer died Aug. 16, aged 75.
90 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
Post Office 3 They need Not proceed in it. It is astonishing
how little senators know of subjects which they have affected
to examine. -
“Many thanks for your kindness in offering to insert the
letter respecting the Montague Packet ; although I know
every word to be strictly true, I wish it not to be inserted,
and you will give me credit for forbearance, recollecting the
past, and that the worthy commander of the Pelham is now
writing a book against me, full of as much venom as he can
bring together: a friend of mine has seen the manuscript.
“I long much to see your translation of the Parisian
Hermit. When does it come out 2
“Yours always,
“F. FREELING.”
The last few words reminds me to state, that when in
Paris I was so much pleased with M. Jouy's publication of
“L’Hermite de la Chaussée D'Antin,” that I resolved to
make a selection from it of the papers I thought most
likely to interest English readers, and translate them
for the press. This I had accomplished, and the work
appeared in three volumes, under the title of “The Paris
Spectator.” It met with considerable patronage, and has
long been out of print, but I cannot aver that it added any
sum worth mentioning to my resources. The same may be
said of my “Voyage to the Isle of Elba,” one volume
octavo, also from a French author ; and which contained a
good account of the island, and the movements of its tem-
porary ruler therein, which certainly bore externally no
faint similitude to the doings of Governor Sancho Panza
in Barataria, and were probably played off to cover the
machinations which were thickening the plot within for the
invasion of France. M. Jouy was a fair English scholar
A GOOD MAN's DEATH-BED. 91
himself, and some of his criticisms on my translation were
very good, whilst some others were peculiarly French, and
amusing. After writing “L'Hermite de la Chaussée
D'Antin” he published the “Franc Parleur,” translated as
“Paris Chit-Chat,” and followed up both by other Essays,
entitled “The Hermit of Guiana,” which he translated
cleverly into English himself. *
Before the end of the year, as previously mentioned, I had
the unhappiness to lose my much-esteemed friend, Mr.
Begbie. He had been removed for change to a pleasant
villa at North End, Hammersmith, but all in vain. A rapid
consumption ensued, and from November all hopes of saving
his valued life had vanished. Early in December he died,
leaving a widow and numerous offspring very unsatisfactorily
provided for. But she was a woman of a strong and energetic
mind, and fortunately for her children, could do for them,
through near relatives (especially her mother, Mrs. Jones,)
and other friends, what her husband was withheld by his
position and independent feelings from soliciting. His consi-
derable income expired with him ; but not the friendships of
those whom his excellent nature and honourable conduct had
attached to him, and who now displayed that attachment by
bestowing valuable appointments on his sons, and launching
them with favourable prospects on the world. Writerships,
cadetcies, and other auspicious provisions were made, and the
family resources of Mrs. Begbie sufficed for the rest. At first,
however, there was much to suffer; and I am not without hope
that it will tend to redeem my course from some of its faults
if I venture to show, that in this, as in many an other instance,
my character, from youth to age, was genial, kindly of
heart, and rejoicing in the privilege of doing good when in
my power. Such also was my lamented friend, whose
liberality of mind and generosity of sentiment had made
92 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
him a much poorer man than he ought to have been. I do
not believe he ever committed a wrong, or did a wilful
injury to man, woman, or child ; but his worth, combined
with an easiness of temperament, was not an adequate pro-
tection for his open purse and honest heart. He contributed
much valuable information, chiefly commercial, to the “Sun,”
which had, like myself, a heavy loss in him. Thus wrote
his disconsolate widow to me—
Dated twelve o'clock—“All your poor friend's troubles
are over ; he ceased to breathe at twenty minutes past ten
this night, without a struggle or a groan.” The final
details need not be repeated.
Previous to this, however, I had exerted myself to
perform a needful service under existing circumstances;
and that I had been successful is proved by the following
warm acknowledgments:—
“Wednesday morning.
“MY DEAR SIR,
“My poor husband has been in the agonies of
death all night, and we expected his dissolution every
minute. I will not tell you what I have suffered. When-
ever he thought himself dying he called me to him, to
bid him farewell, and to let him “die in my arms.’ This
morning he has recovered a little, and lies tolerably com-
posed, and Mr. West thinks he may linger yet another
night. If you are well enough to come to me on your return,
do. He thinks he could die in peace if he heard you were
likely to succeed in your generous intentions. To prevent
unnecessary fatigue to you, and alarm to Mrs. Jerdan, do
not think of returning at night ; I can give you a bed, and
indeed I have much to say to you, and consult you about.
Mr. West (the medical adviser) has promised to spend the
night here, he was in the house from four o'clock till nine.
SELF-SATISFACTION. 93
By giving laudanum, my dear Peter does not seem in those
violent agonies; he is quite calm, and prays to be released
from his sufferings. My poor girls and Alfred [the eldest
son] are also quite broken-hearted. * * * has fainted away
* * it is truly a house” of mourning—how I hold up I cannot
imagine; but for my beloved children I think I should sink
under my troubles. I do not know that I could go through such
another night—to see my poor husband in danger of suffoca-
tion—to hear his groans—to hear him pray for me and my
children—indeed it was too much; but I will not agonise your
feeling heart, which I know participates largely in my
SOTI’OWS,
“Adieu. Yours truly,
“FRANCES BEGBIE.”
“Northend, 5th December, 1815.
“My DEAR SIR,-
“Your truly kind and generous conduct to me and
mine, entitles you to my warmest gratitude. It is impossible
for me to thank you ; but the approbation of your own heart
will, I trust, be an ample reward. Never did consolation
arrive at a time it was more wanted. Just as I got your
letter, my poor suffering husband appeared to be nearly
expiring. Even while I write you will hardly know from
his countenance that he existed ; he has the hiccups inces-
santly, and perhaps, ere you receive—you get this—he may
be no more. Never can I sufficiently thank Mr. Freeling for
his kindness. Tell him he has, by his generous endeavours
to serve me and my helpless children, rescued me almost
from despair. Without the help of some friends, I could
not support the mournful situation I am at present in. May
that Almighty Being who has warmed your liberal heart to
* The letter is defaced here by the seal.
94 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
assist me and mine, return the generous act tenfold upon
you and your family.
“Believe me ever, with the truest regard,
“Your grateful friend,
“FRANCES BEGBI.E.”
Sure the last end
Of the good man is peace how calm his exit !
Night dews fall not more gently on the ground,
Nor weary worn-out winds expire so soft.—Blair.
I beg my readers to believe that I revive this picture of
domestic suffering, such alas, as brings grief and mourning
to most hearths in the trying journey through life, not from
any self-glorifying desire to have myself and my memory held
in higher estimation than they deserve; but I have said that
I would frankly confess and expose my errors, in the belief
that the retrospect might be serviceable to my fellow-
creatures, and most signally so to those who were em-
barked, or were disposed to embark, in the pursuits of
literature as a provision for the wants of life ;* and I deem
that it would not be justice to myself to withhold all the
testimonies to my good deeds, and I hope, without a breach
of “the consideration and reserve due to others.”
I shall only add Mr. Freeling's letter to me on the
occasion :-
“General Post Office. Saturday.
“DEAR JERDAN,
“Your letters do great credit to your feelings—poor
Begbie | I know that these ‘Riders,’ as they are called,
are in a general sense objectionable to the government, but
* See Vol. I., page 3.
SELF-SATISFACTION, 95
I shall be very glad if the difficulty can be overcome on the
humanity of the case.
“You have done right in addressing yourself to Mr. C. A.
[Charles Arbuthnot.]
“Will you come and dine with us at six o'clock on Tuesday
next, at 42, Bryanston Square. We shall be only a small
party of six persons. Always yours, truly,
** F. FREELING.”
96 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
CHAPTER IX.
— «» -
REFLECTIONS: “BEGAR, HERE'S MONSIEUR TONSON
COME AGAIN | ??
The Wheel of Life is turning quickly round,
And in one place is very seldom found;
The Midwife wheels usin, and Death wheels us out,
Good lack-a-day! how we are wheeled about !—OLD BALLAD.
THE words with which the preceding chapter is concluded,
give rise to a train of reflections, in which I will adventure
to indulge for a brief space ; as the result of a very extended
and comprehensive experience. I am sorry to say that they do
not, on the whole, tend to excite a very flattering opinion of
mankind, nor of the world as it is in our living day. The
quaint adage, “no more pipe, no more dance,” I have found
far too widely true and applicable to the transactions of
human intercourse. That there are multitudes of noble
and right minded exceptions, no one can state with more
delight than I do ; were it not so, the world would be a
cold and hideous wilderness.
But in referring (very imperfectly) to what has been pre-
served of my voluminous correspondence scattered over so
many active years, I have been sadly struck with the dif-
ference of the language and tone which they exhibit as
relative circumstances happened to vary. The individual
letters addressed to the same man in prosperity and adversity,
REFLECTIONS: INGRATITUDE. 97
appear as if they were written to two persons, not only not
identical, but as if there were no resemblance whatever
between them. And the very writers themselves are
equally changed; like Bottom the weaver they have been
“metamorphosed.” I have a thousand letters, for example,
begging favours; they are so prettily expressed it is quite
a pleasure to read them. They are so kind, so com-
plimentary, so flattering, that you are almost inclined to
fancy yourself a demi-god. But let the power of granting
such requests cease, and it is wonderful how the expressions
are cooled, the compliments abbreviated, and the flatteries
abridged. You are restored to your mere human shape
again—and hardly that.
Then again, and it is infinitely more to be deplored, when
you have rendered essential services to the establishment of
fortune, and evento the preservation of life, and are distressed
with the overpourings of never-ending remembrance and
eternal gratitude ; it is melancholy to see, after no very long
time has elapsed—the fortune having continued to smile, and
the life having become easy and comfortable—it is very melan-
choly to discover that the acknowledged services are apt to
be disowned, and the everlasting gratitude forgotten or
“repudiated.” I could state not a few cases of this descrip-
tion so base, that the feeling of indignation it might be
supposed they are likely to generate, would be lost in the
stronger feeling of utter contempt; selfishness, and self-
illusion will naturally account for a great deal of this, but
what can account for the more odious feature, too prevalent
to escape philosophical remark, which often returns evil for
good, and strives by every detestable means to injure a
benefactor. -
In the former case, pride, vanity, the idea of your own
superior merits, and other causes and motives may lead,
VOL. II. H
98 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
without much dereliction of principle, to the disreputable
change ; whilst in the latter, nothing but a thoroughly bad
heart and malevolent disposition, can afford a clue to the
diabolical phenomena of requiting the greatest benefits by
the darkest revenge |
I may, hereafter, devote a few pages to the selfish character
of the age—perhaps a more material source of misery than
indulgence in the worst passions, for apathy is more prevalent
for evil than malignity, and occasions far more extended suffer-
ings; but having, for the present, rather intimated than
discussed ideas, which have been pressed upon my mind and
run continually in my thoughts since I began this work, I
shall now proceed with my personal narrative, and, at any
rate, defer this theme and its personal illustrations.
As far as distraction from the proper performance of my
duty, and a sense of the inevitable destruction of the
property in which I had embarked my talents (such as
they were), and my views which were sanguine enough,
were concerned, I was in no enviable situation. The feud
grew from bad to worse, was almost a daily torment to me,
and a plague to every soul who knew Mr. Taylor or myself.
I am not exaggerating when I say, that he got quite
“demented,” and went to extremities, which not even
my original disregard of the folly, and later patienee with
the mischievous ebullitions, could endure. The ruinous
consequences which had all along been threatened, became
inevitable and imminent. Of course, I daresay I was often
in a state of angry provocation and contradiction ; and I
find, curiously enough, among my papers a contribution of
Taylor's, which I rejected, on grounds the sufficiency of
which I cannot now make out, and which led to a furious
onslaught. I believe it is the only poetical holograph of
my then most hostile partner which I possess, and as a
LITERARY RECOLLECTIONS. 99
great many worse things both of his and my own were suf-
fered to appear in the paper, I have some small satisfaction
in copying it here:—
POETRY.
To GEORGE CHALMERs, Esq., THE Possessor of A TABLE AND
WINE-GLASSES WHICH BELONGED TO THOMSON THE POET. —
BY John TAYLOR, Esq.
Friend CHALMERs, ’tis a noble treat
At THoMson's hallow’d board to meet—
THE BARD of NATURE's SPHERE;
The Bard who, long as ages roll,
And NATURE animates the whole,
Taste, virtue, will revere.
'Tis surely form'd of BRITAIN’s Oak,
That bears her Thunder's dreadful stroke
O'er all her subject main :
For lo l BRITANNIA’s “ sacred laws,
And LIBERTY’s” congenial cause,
Inspired his patriot strain.
Not ARTHUR’s, with his Knights around,
By fond Tradition long renown'd,
Should equal thine in fame;
Nor that where plates the Trojan's ate,
Portentous of a happier fate,
Though graved with Virgil's name.
The Poet's Goblets too are thine,
With votive bumpers let them shine,
In Thomson's praise to ring ;
Whose works, through SUMMER's parching glow,
Sear'd AUTUMN, WINTER’s blighting snow,
Will bloom in endless SPRING.
George Chalmers, to whom this piece is inscribed, was
one of the most respectable and most comfortable of
publisher's drudges. He was able, laborious, good-
humoured, and had a thorough enjoyment of the good
things of social life, to which his conversation contributed
the appendages of pleasurable intelligence and instruction.
* Poems by Thomson.
100 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
He was altogether an extremely well-informed and very
agreeable companion, and consequently moved in the best
literary society. In those times general good fellowship
was more in fashion than now ; and sometimes among
publishers, booksellers, authors and patrons, there was a
nearer alliance to junkettings than in our refined day !
I often met Mr. Chalmers, and liked him much. He was
a fine example of a rubicund Scotchman ; fattened and
roseated in London ; and in his time did valuable service
to literature, whilst he uprightly and honourably sustained
the character of a Literary Man.
But to return to my dog-like treat. Law proceedings
and law expenses, and law contradictions and law disap-
pointments, flowed in to fill the cup of trouble. The best
point I could make in my New Year's gratulatory address
for 1816, was, that “a more systematic and enlarged
attention should be paid to literary subjects” than the
turmoils of war and politics had allowed, though upwards of
a hundred reviews had been given in the preceding year.
But the spirit of the editor was dulled ; his expectations
quashed. The “Sun” had fallen off in light. Its splendour
was gone. There was more trashy poetry than ever; the little
blemishes had become staple commodities, and the witticisms
were multiplied, and nearly all under the regulation, i. e.
tolerable, standard. In short, the fatal blow had been struck
at its continuing to prosper in my hands ; and the under-
mining within prevailed with more deplorable spectacles of
monomania than ever. All I could do was to keep my public
place, and endeavour to do my duty. But the buoyancy
was gone ; and my Soul and the “Sun” were too heavily
weighted for a bright career over Terra or through Æther.
The concern could not have gone on at all, but for my
obtaining an injunction in Chancery, to prevent any more
LAW 101
direct interference with the editor than consisted with what
could not be restrained—the most childish and pettish inter-
ruptions during the whole forenoon I was engaged in the
business in the front room, and my Partner was ruminating
and contriving in the back room how to annoy me. The
injunction is a curiosity in newspaper warfare, and here
it is :-
GEORGE THE THIRD, &c., TO JOHN TAYLOR, GREETING.
After reciting the whole affidavit of complaint.
“To be relieved wherein and for an injunction the Com-
plainant had exhibited his bill against you, the said
Defendant, to which you had appeared, but had not then
put in your answer.
“We therefore, in consideration of the premises, do
hereby strictly enjoin and restrain you the said Defendant,
John Taylor, under the penalty of Five Thousand Pounds,
to be levied upon your lands, goods, and chattels to our
use, from inserting or causing to be inserted in any future
number of the newspaper called ‘The Sun,’ any articles or
article whatsoever without the consent of the said Com-
plainant previously obtained, and from altering or causing
to be altered, and from rejecting or causing to be rejected,
any articles or article which the said Complainant has
directed or consented or may direct or consent to be
inserted in any future number of the said newspaper, and
from giving any direction or order to any of the printers or
workmen now employed or at any future time to be
employed in printing or publishing the said newspaper, in
opposition or contrary to any direction or order which
the said Complainant has given or may give to such printers
or workmen or any of them respecting the conduct and
management of the said newspaper, or so as to prevent
102 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
the direction or order of the said Complainant from being
obeyed, and from discharging such printers or workmen
or any of them or keeping back or diminishing their
wages for obeying the orders of the said Complainant,
and from interfering in any manner in the conduct or
management of the said newspaper, and an editor thereof,
or preventing the said Complainant from having the com-
plete and absolute control over and the sole direction of the
said newspaper as the editor thereof, until you the said
Defendant shall fully answer the Complainant's bill, or our
said Court make other order to the contrary.
“Witness ourself at Westminster, the fourteenth day of
December, in the fifty-sixth year of our reign.
<< GRANT.
** JOHNSON.”
This, like the writ attempted to be served on Martin in
Galway, incensed the turmoil for a worser outbreak. *
Instead of writing what might be eligible for the paper,
I was, nevertheless, still exposed to, and worn out by, the
* It is an old story in a Chancery suit, where every particular must be
literally sworn to, and the servitor in this case made oath that when he ap-
proached Martin’s stronghold (now, strangely enough, the property by pur-
chase of a Law Assurance Association () to serve the writ, the Deft. (defend-
ant) looked from a window or loophole down upon Dept. (deponent), with a
gun or blunderbuss pointed directly at him, and swore by J , that if he,
the said Dept., advanced another step, he would blow his * * * soul to
h—ll. All which he, the said Dept., verily believes, if he, said Dept.,
had advanced another step, he, the said Deft., would have done.
Dick Martin was an amusing companion, and as soft as milk in his
manners, notwithstanding his pugnacious propensities and partiality for
duelling. He once showed me the cicatrices of several bullet-wounds he
had received in some of his score of encounters, and gave a very naive
description of the occasions, and always the intolerable provocation he had
put up with before resorting to the ultima ratio Hiberniae. In proof of
his extraordinary forbearance, he told me that on the very night before,
when he was speaking in the House on the Cruelty to Animals Bill, he
was interrupted and insulted by some one crying “Hare hare l’’ (hear,
MISERABLE QUARRELLING. 103
petty vexations to which I have alluded ; and which are
so truly and fully expressed in a letter I sent to Mr. Taylor
at this time, that I repeat it here.
“Little Chelsea, 8th February, 1816.
“SIR,
“Mr. Carstairs [the printer, and a sorely troubled
one] and others, bringing numerous verbal messages, and
communications of various kinds from you to me, to my
great annoyance and interruption, I think it right to state
to you explicitly that, receiving the treatment I have received
and am daily experiencing from you, I feel no inclination
either to submit to your caprices, or to relax one iota from
the privilege I possess as editor of the ‘Sun,” in order to
insert things merely agreeable to your personal connections.
Provoked as I am, I have chalked out for myself a course,
the basis of which is to have no intercourse with you which
I can possibly avoid. This want of concert you have
forced by bitter persecution and continued ill-usage ; and
if you feel its effects, you know where the blame lies. You
one day tell me that such a man abhors me, and glory in
having caused him so to do, and the next ask me to insert
some puff of this very person in the ‘Sun.’ Yourself
abuse and calumniate me grossly, and yet you come to me
to give place to matters in which you alone are interested.
What opinion have you of human nature, to suppose that
insult and enmity are to beget a return of courtesy and
friendship 2 Once for all, I will not be so sported with,
hear) when there was no occasion. So, when he had finished his speech,
he went across the flure to ascertain who had affronted him in this
fashion, and Alderman — was pointed out as the party. “Upon
which,” said Dick, “as it was only an alderman, it was impossible for a
gentleman to resent it; and so I just gave the poor devil a look, and tauld
him he had better never cry “hare, hare, again when I was addressing the
cheair.”
104 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
and to put an end to the teazing repetition of messages on
such subjects, whatever I find objectionable I will instantly
destroy, and insert only what appears to me to be for the
good of the concern ; so now you know under what terms
you send anything ‘For the Sun.’
“The gradual fall of the paper, in spite of my incessant
labour at a task too heavy for one person, the advantage
taken to throw a burthen upon me individually, wherever
I have endeavoured to promote the general benefit, the
insidious and despicable misrepresentations to which my
best exertions are liable, have left me but one line of
conduct, viz., to steer as clear as I can of you, to continue
to do my duty diligently and faithfully, and to witness with
regret that ruin of the ‘Sun' which existing circumstances
render inevitable. You were originally abundantly fore-
warned of the consequence of your laborious exertions to
injure a person whose situation rendered it so necessary to
your interests that you should have pursued an opposite
course, but malice and folly combined mastered the good
advice ; you now feel a part of the result. Be warned
once more ; it may be yet time to redeem a little, and save
from utter wreck. Could you reverse the injunction in
Chancéry, it will destroy the ‘Sun’ in a fortnight. Should
any one of your causes come on, remember I have told
you candidly, your short-hand writer may give a dangerous
publicity to some falsehoods put into the mouth of counsel,
and thus gratify your pique, but statements will be brought
to light which will give a death-blow to the ‘Sun.” Should
you publish one line injurious to me, it shall be met by a
notice under which the ‘Sun' must sink. In brief, I will
not permit you to ruin or attempt to ruin me without your
reward; and therefore, if you regard the concern in which
you have embarked a large property for a man in your
EFFECTS OF CALUMNY. 105.
circumstances (I believe not far short of 1400l.), I again
advise you to press no further on one who has hitherto, in
the hope of a return to reason and justice, been more
passive than he will ever be hereafter. Think of the
advice, and not of the adviser.
« W. J.”
Such were my grievances, but there was no stopping the
“vult perdere.” I was reviled and slandered to such a pitch,
that I sought legal means to obtain redress, and the punish-
ment of the offender. It is something in a man's life, that if
he is at any time well maligned, it is no matter how untruly
and how unjustly, or how met and refuted, some of the dirt
will stick to him for ever. Forgetting all else, even good-
natured and well-meaning people are prone to say, “Oh, So-
and-So; I did not know him, but I remember there was
something talked of about him that was disparaging, and I
have always had an impression that he was not altogether
the right thing !” The stigma, after all, is unimportant to
the man of conscious rectitude, but it has a vague effect,
and though he does not feel the sting, it may operate to his
prejudice during all his life, and in quarters that he could
never dream of. Such occurrences have frequently come
within my cognisance, I have known the prospects of very
worthy men quite blasted, and those of others blighted till
too late to be of the value they would have been, by obstacles
of no other foundation than some calumnious rumour,
which had just met the careless ear, and left the “I would
rather not ” impression behind. The fight between the
sweep and baker is far more detrimental to the baker than
the sweep ; but both are repugnantly marked, and lose
caste by the conflict.
Sequitur. Before going farther, backwards or forwards,
106 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
I add three documents to my Autobiography. The first is
a letter from my much-esteemed friend, my solicitor then,
and my endeared companion for many an after year, whose
very recent death I have truly lamented ; and the other
the opinion of Counsel on the deplorable case of one who
did not know whither to turn or what to do.
“DEAR SIR,
“Underneath I send you a copy of Mr. Marryat's
opinion, from which it appears, upon the whole, that it
would be better to drop the idea of any action or indictment.
“I have read your case as drawn by yourself, and think
it exceedingly well put together ; so much so, that it will
be laid entire before the counsel this evening, to draw the
bill in equity. I have added but a line or two on one
occasion, where I thought it was required, and I will hasten
the gentleman who has the framing the bill every moment
I possibly can. Mr. Marryat had some personal knowledge
of Mr. Taylor, but spoke very loudly in his disfavour ; how-
ever, he desired it might not be repeated to Taylor. I go
to Oxford to-morrow morning early, and do not return till
Saturday evening, but in the meantime your papers will be
before counsel.
“Yours truly, & ROBT. GRAY.”
“I am of opinion that the terms used in the letter to
Mr. Stuart” are not so distinctly libellous in point of law
(though ‘very analogous' to a libel) as to sustain either
* The present eminent Chancery barrister, ex-member for Newark,
and I rejoice to add member for Bury St. Edmunds, which could not have
a more able or honourable representative, and one of my oldest and dearest
friends, to whom Taylor had addressed one of his abusive epistles.
THE LAW OF LIBEL. 107
an indictment or an action. No criminal prosecution can
be supported for the mere verbal slanders. And of all the
words stated in this case to have been used by Mr. Taylor
(with the addition mentioned in the note of the 13th instant),
that of “thief' alone is actionable. Even this expression
if explained by the accompanying conversation, or by the
witness to it, as not meant to convey an imputation of felony,
would not be a legal ground of action, and as it is stated to
have been mixed with a variety of other abuse, it was probably
introduced as mere general declamation or invective, and I
therefore discourage any proceeding on that account.
“SAML. MARRYAT.”
The next is the opinion of Mr. Tindal, afterwards raised
to the Bench, and, as the dicta of so great a lawyer, may
be worth a guinea fee to some unfortunate readers, who
may happen to have anything to do with libels, I hope their
compatriots will put up with two pages of a 5s. book for
their sake.
“I am of opinion that no action is maintainable by
Mr. Jerdan against Mr. Taylor for the words spoken by
the latter. No action will lie for words of the nature stated
in the case, unless they either impute to the party of whom
they are spoken the commission of some legal crime, or
unless they are spoken of him with reference to a trade or
profession which he carries on ; and I think the words
spoken by Mr. Taylor do not fall within either of those two
classes. The word thief, indeed, in its strict literal sense,
imports the legal offence of felony; but it is also a word of
common vulgar abuse, without any very definite meaning;
and when the question is left to the jury in what sense
Mr. Taylor used those words, it would be impossible for
108 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
them to think that Mr. Taylor intended to accuse
Mr. Jerdan of the commission of any felonious threat.
As to the words spoken with reference to his fitness for
conducting the paper, there is no sufficiently express refer-
ence to Mr. Jerdan's situation as conductor ; nor, indeed,
do the slanderous words themselves apply to the situation
which he holds. Mr. Jerdan, under the deed of partnership,
is the sole editor of the paper, but he has no concern
whatever with the money transactions arising out of it.
Now the words spoken by Mr. Taylor seem not to apply to the
ability or diligence of Mr. Jerdan, or to any other requisite
which an editor is expected to furnish, but to honesty in
money concerns, with which, as editor, he has no inter-
ference. . I therefore think no action will lie for the words.
“With respect to the letter, I am of opinion that it may,
in strictness, be made the subject of an indictment, because
it certainly does appear to contain insinuations which are
calculated to provoke Mr. Jerdan to a breach of the peace.
But at the same time I must observe that it is but just
within the law of libel. The allegation that Mr. Jerdan's
motives are those of a swindler, is very far from a direct
allegation ; and, indeed, the whole of the objectionable
passage in the letter is so obscure as to be scarcely intelli-
gible. I am of opinion that, in cases of this nature, it is the
most prudent and politic course not to indict, unless the
offence is so clearly defined, and so aggravated in its nature,
that there can be no doubt of the event or the measure of
the punishment; because an indictment begun and not
carried through, or, if carried through with success, termi-
nated at last by a slight punishment, is more a matter of
triumph to the defendant than to the prosecutor. This
point, however, I leave to the discretion of the prosecutor.
“NICOLAS C. TINDAL, Inner Temple.”
THE LAW OF LIBEL. 109
As I wish to avoid fatiguing the reader with more of
personal matter than is absolutely incumbent upon me, I
will now close this chaper; still trusting that the statements
it contains are of such general interest and application, as
to take them out of the category of sheer Individuality.”
Even whilst writing it, I observe in the daily and weekly
papers, reports of actions at law and cases of police (such as
are ever occurring), in which individuals connected with the
periodical Press appear in the agreeable and profitable
predicament of plaintiffs and defendants, prosecutors and
prosecuted, accusers and accused; and they almost invariably
afford presumption of such a loose way of transacting business,
as sorely to puzzle judges and magistrates. They are the
farces of litigation, at which the public laugh, and by which
neither party gains either benefit or satisfaction. I would
therefore entreat my brethren of the quill to steer clear of
Law and Police, and even of Justice, so called. None of
them were framed for their cases ; and consequently the
first will punish, the second ridicule, and the last baulk
them | From the three, separately or collectively, they
have nothing to look for but suffering in purse, person, and
hopes. And so I say again, “Beware of spring-guns and
man-traps on these premises.” .
* It is said that the English people like to witness a stand-up fight ;
and therefore I hope they will not dislike to read about one, at least as
much as was necessary in self-defence for my Autobiography.-W. J.
110 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
CHAPTER X.
—(?—
ROBERT BURNS : A RATHER SCOTCH CHAPTER.
“How happy have I been been by turns,
With Ramsay, Ferguson and Burns.”
“Ding dong ! ding dong !
The slow sounds weep,
And cadence keep,
With the wail of woe
O'er the grave below.
Ding dong ! ding dong !
Strew garlands round
The holy ground.”—MoTHERWELL.
ON the 25th of May in this year, the Commemoration of
Burns, for which I had thrown out a signal the year before
(as noticed in a preceding page), and the “getting up ’’
of which required much time and exertion, was brought to
a gratifying issue. If there is a word or name in the
language to serve as a rallying-point for Scotchmen, at home
or abroad, that name is Burns. But for this sesame I could
never have succeeded in my project. There was hardly a
failure. Wherever application was made the response was
cordial. Nevertheless, my office of secretary was no
sinecure. I was fortunate in procuring the Earl of Aberdeen
to preside; the Duke of Buccleugh having previously consented
to take the chair, and only withdrawn in consequence of a
ROBERT BURNS : A RATHER SCOTCH CHAPTER. 111
remarkable request which I received from the Duchess, his
mother, at Richmond, my prompt acquiescence in which led
to gratifying courtesies from that truly excellent lady as long
as she lived. Lord Aberdeen was admirably supported by
Mr. C. Grant (Lord Glenelg), Sir John Majoribanks, Sir
Neil Campbell, Mr. W. R. Keith Douglas, member for
Dumfries, Mr. (Sir) Charles Forbes, Mr. Kirkman Finlay,
Sir Thomas Bell, Sheriff at the time, Mr. Thomas Campbell,
Mr. Wilkie, Mr. (Sir Peter) Laurie, and other gentlemen
eminent in the mercantile world, in literature, and the arts.
The following list of stewards will verify this, though several
were prevented, by various public and insuperable private
causes, from attending the dinner party :—
PRESIDENT,
THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF ABERDEEN, K.T.
STEWARDS,
RIGHT HON. LORD WISCOUNT MELVII, L.E.
RIGHT HON. LORD WISCOUNT PALMERSTON.
LORD ARCHIBALD HAMILTON.
SIR. T. BELL, KNT, SHERIFF, &c.
THOMAS CAMPBELL, Esq.
ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL, Esq.
W. R. K. DOUGLAS, Esq., M.P.
GENERAL JAMES DUNLOP, M.P.
RIRKMAN FINLAY, Esq., M.P.
CHARLES FORBES, Esq., M.P.
CHARLES GRANT, JUN, ESQ., M.P.
G. HATHORN, ESQ.
J. C. HERRIES, Esq., CoMMIssa RY-IN-CHIEF.
ADMIRAL SIR G. J. HOPE, KNT., M.P.
FRANCIS HORNER, Esq., M.P.
T. F. HUNT, Esq.
JOHN IN NES, Esq.
JOHN IRWING, Esq., M.P.
WILLIAM JERDAN, ESQ.
ALEX. KEY, Esq.
PETER LAURIE, Esq.
REV. D.R. J. LINDSAY.
SIR. J. MAJORIBANKS, BART., M.P.
REAR ADMIRAL SIR GRAHAM MOORE.
JOHN NICHOL, Esq.
COSMO ORME, Esq.
COUTTS TROTTER, Esq.
JOHN TUNNO, Esq.
SIR. G. WARRENDER, BART., M.P.
DAVID WILKIE, Esq., R.A.
112 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
Campbell wrote a poem on the occasion, which was
admirably recited by Mr. Conway, and in the composition
of which I met with a peculiar instance of the poet's
fastidiousness in correcting his effusions,—an example, the
reverse of which entails upon us so much of the slip-slop
and want of finish to which we must submit at the present
time : a couple of days only before the meeting, the bard
had courteously read over his Ode to me, and left the MS.
with me to be printed, returning himself to his residence,
then at Sydenham. I thought it was polished to perfection ;
but not so the author. It rushed into his head that he had
written “Which,” instead of “That,” in the penultimate
line of the fourth stanza, where two other lines commenced
with “who,” and, as I might guess from his note, in much
distress at being guilty of such an inelegancy, he despatched
an express messenger from Sydenham to town to me with
the important correction | * I am inclined to think that
Campbell often weakened his first poetical ideas by over-
polish, as Scott often left his with blots, in consequence of
seldom taking the trouble to correct and refine.
The Earl of Aberdeen having hardly ever, if ever, been
induced to preside at a festivity of this kind, gave additional
interest to the Commemoration, which, I should say, was
“in aid of the subscription for completing the monument
over the grave of Burns, then erecting at Dumfries.” Among
* This poetic carefulness may be paralleled by another instance. One
Friday afternoon, when I went as usual to my printer's (Bensley), to
correct the last proofs, and see that all was right for the “Literary
Gazette” of the morrow, and whilst waiting for slips, I happened to glance
over some loose sheets lying on the desk of Rogers’s “Italy” (I think). I
pointed out two or three of the slightest inaccuracies or doubtful points to
the reader (Mr. Barker, one of those invaluable, good printing-house
allies to authors), which he communicated to the poet, and the result was
the cancelling of several sheets, at an expense of 50l. or 60l. The
majority of writers would not have given sixpence to mend them all. Not
so the fastidious Rogers.
ROBERT BURNS : A RATHER SCOTCH CHAPTER, 113
his lordship's most apposite observations in proposing “The
Memory of Robert Burns,” which he did with great feeling,
he said: “As Scotchmen, we may well be vain of his talent
and his name, for his genius was truly national. Scotland
may exult in having given him birth, for he might almost
be said to have sprung from her very soil | But while, as
Scotchmen, we are justly proud that it was reserved for our
country to give birth to such a poet, the hard fate of Burns,
while living, and the comparative obscurity in which he
closed his days, prove, I am afraid, that while among us he
was not sufficiently valued [what genius ever was ?], and
this reflection, in some sort, turns our very pride into our
reproach We owe to his memory a long arrear of admira-
tion. The only way in which we can now discharge this
debt is by uniting to honour his tomb. [It will appear by
an incident in the sequel that this was happily not ‘the
only way.'] This has now become the duty of his friends
and admirers; call it a vain and fruitless duty if you will,
but still it is a duty which those who feel an interest in the
honour of their country, and in the powers of genius being
duly appreciated, will not be the less anxious to fulfil.” After
the applause had ceased, and the toast been drunk in silence,
Mr. Conway recited the Ode in honour of Burns to which I
have alluded, so effectively as to be often interrupted by
enthusiastic expressions of admiration and delight. It is,
indeed, not unworthy of the bard of “Hohenlinden,”
“Lochiel's Warning,” and “The Mariners of England.”
The following is a copy:—
Soul of the Poet ! wheresoe’er
Reclaim'd from earth thy genius plume
Her wings of immortality ;
Suspend thy harp in happier sphere,
And with thine influence illume
The gladness of our jubilee,
WOL. II. . I
114
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
And fly like fiends from sacred spell,
Discord and strife, at BURNs's name,
Exorcis'd by his memory;
For he was chief of bards that swell
The heart with songs of social flame,
And high delicious revelry.
And Love’s own strain to him was giv'n
To warble all its ecstacies,
With Pythian words unsought, unwill’d,
Love the surviving gift of Heaven,
The choicest sweet of Paradise
In life's else bitter eup distill’d.
Who.that has melted o'er his lay
To Mary's soul in Heav'n above,
But pictur'd sees in fancy strong,
The landscape and the livelong day
That smil’d upon their mutual love,
Who that has felt forgets the song.
Nor skill’d one flame alone to fan—
His country’s high-soul’d peasantry
What patriot-pride he taught !—how much
To weigh the inborn worth of man
And rustic life and poverty
Grow beautiful beneath his touch.
Him in his clay-built cot * the muse
Entranc'd and show'd him all the forms,
Offairy-light and wizard gloom,
(That only gifted Poet views,)
The Genii of the floods and storms,
And martial shades from glory's tomb.
On Bannock-field what thoughts arouse
The swain whom BURNs's song inspires?
Beat not his Caledonian veins,
As o'er the heroic turf he ploughs,
With all the spirit of his sires,
And all their scorn of death and chains P
* Burns was born in Clay-cottage, which his father had built with
his own hands.
ROBERT BURNS : A RATHER SCOTCH CHAPTER. 115
And see the Scottish exile tann'd
By many a far and foreign clime,
Bend o'er his homeborn verse and weep,
In memory of his native land,
With love that scorns the lapse of time,
And ties that stretch beyond the deep.
Encamp'd by Indian rivers wild
The soldier resting on his arms,
In BURNs's carol sweet recals
The scenes that blest him when a child,
And glows and gladdens at the charms
Of Scotia’s woods and waterfalls.
O deem not, midst this worldly strife,
An idle art the Poet brings,
Let high Philosophy control
And sages calm the stream of life,
'Tis he refines its fountain springs,
The nobler passions of the soul.
It is the muse that consecrates
The native banner of the brave,
Unfurling at the trumpet’s breath,
Rose, thistle, harp, 'tis she elates
To sweep the field or ride the wave,
A sunburst in the storm of death.
And thou young hero when thy pall
Is cross'd with mournful sword and plume,
When public grief begins to fade,
And only tears of kindred fall,
Who but the Bard shall dress thy tomb,
And greet with fame thy gallant shade.
Such was the soldier, BURNs forgive
That sorrows of mine own intrude,
In strains to thy great memory due.
In verse like thine, Oh could he live,
The friend I mourn’d—the brave, the good
Edward that died at Waterloo !”
Farewell high chief of Scottish song,
That could'st alternately impart
Wisdom and rapture in thy page,
And brand each vice with satire strong
Whose lines are mottoes of the heart,
Whose truths electrify the sage.
* Major Edward Hodge, of the 7th Hussars, who fell at the head
of his squadron in the attack of the Polish Lancers.
I 2
116 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
Farewell, and ne'er may Envy dare
To wring one baleful poison drop
From the crush’d laurels of thy bust;
But while the lark sings sweet in air,
Still may the grateful pilgrim stop,
To bless the spot that holds thy dust.
“The living poets of Scotland, and one of the most
distinguished of their number, Mr. Campbell,” was the next
toast drunk and acknowledged ; after which, as I had
informed the chairman that a son of Burns was present,
with some of his kindred, his lordship, in a handsome
manner, proposed their health. Mr. Burns, then a mere
youth, answered the tribute with great modesty ; and, in the
course of the evening, I had the grateful office of introducing
him to Mr. Charles Grant, the result of which was, his
appointment as a cadet to India, whither he in due time
proceeded, and, after good service, returned to his native
land a respected officer and prosperous man. Such accidents
are beautiful when they do happen, and very consolatory to
look back and reflect upon.
An eloquent speech from Mr. Grant, comprising a fine
and touching eulogy on Burns, and equally just compliment
to the high classic accomplishments of Lord Aberdeen, called
up the noble lord, who expressed his anxious feeling for the
interest of Scotland, and especially where connected with
its literature.
“Mr. Wilkie, and the Scottish Arts and Artists,” was
next toasted and acknowledged amid tumultuous plaudits.
Sinclair sang, Gow's band played, and Macgregor, the “great
piper"—I have forgot the Gaelic for it—paraded the room in
full costume with a melody only ravishing, at such close
quarters, to Scotch ears.
The chairman having proposed “The Health of the
Stewards, and the Secretary, for his services in promoting
ROBERT BURNS : A RATHER SCOTCH CHAPTER. 117
the meeting,” Mr. (Sir Charles) Forbes returned thanks for
the former, and I had the pleasure to read over a list
of subscriptions, amounting to about 350l., with the
remark that I trusted it would enable the committee at
Dumfries to go on vigourously with the monument, and
also to remind the company of the opinion of Burns, that
the “Scottish poet should not sleep without a monument,”
when he raised one, at his own expense, to the memory
of Ferguson. -
After Lord Aberdeen retired, Campbell was called to the
chair, whose vivacity and good humour prolonged the festival
of feeling for another hour. He gave “The Health of the
great living Bard, Sir Walter Scott, and also of Mr. Mayne,
the author of the charming ballad of “Logan Waters; ’”
for which Mr. Mayne (of the “Siller Gun,” a sweet com-
position), returned his acknowledgments. Mr. Laurie (now
Sir Peter) again proposed my health, with a flattering notice
of me as “the individual who had originated this Com-
memoration, and whose exertions, for the last two years,
to accomplish the interesting object, had been as great and
unremitting as they had ultimately proved successful.” I
naturally expressed my gratitude for such a compliment;
and the night concluded in so gratifying a manner that a
morning paper of the following day stated, the “entertain-
ment had terminated, at the close of which every friend to
poetical genius who was present
Might have the happiness to say,
My friends, I have not lost a day !”
Together with Campbell's fine poem were printed and
distributed two other pieces: one by an English lady, and
the other by myself, for the toast of “the Duke of Wellington
and the Scottish Heroes of Egypt and Maida, the Peninsula,
118 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
and Waterloo;” both of which I append to this description
of a memorable Scottish day in London.
BY AN ENGLISH LADY.
O Thou, too early and too sadly lost,
Enchanting Bard | by fate, by passion tost,
Whose hardy genius forced its tangled way,
And would expand, and struggled into day;—
At length we hail thee, cenotaphed, inurned,
At length we mourn thee, as thou should'st be mourned ;
Art waits at length upon thy honour'd tomb, -
And Poesy recording weeps thy doom.
Yet fame was thine, and tears. Thy native plains,
The hills, the rivers, echoed to thy strains.
For bright though changeful, as his Scottish clime,
The Peasant-minstrel's wild and vigorous rhyme;
Where smiles and tears contest the varying hour,
Or sweetly blend like April's sunny shower;
Where lightsome airs come fresh and fancy-driven,
Like white clouds whirling o'er the deep blue Heaven.
And many a lovely sound thy name has brought,
Many a fair sight wakened thy dear thought.
Oh! who could see the mountain daisy spring,
Or hear high-poised the early laverock sing,
Or loitering tread the pleasant banks of Ayr,
Or list the milk-maid sooth her evening care
With some old, wild, yet sweetest melody,
Nor inly breathe that strain divinely free
Which gives to each its immortality
And when, long ages hence, gray moss shall spread
Destructive o’er each column’s trophied head,
And every stone confused and broken lie,
And e'en the Mausoleum’s self shall die ;
Then, if perchance some mouldering letters tell
Whose reliques in its ruined precincts dwell;--
Then shall that fresh, that unforgotten name
Repay the arrear of monumental fame,
As oft the Traveller, oft the Poet turns,
To muse and linger o'er the Tomb of BURNs.
ROBERT BURNs: A BATHER SCOTCH CHAPTER. 119
THE AFTER-BATTLE SANG.
BY WILLIAM JER.BAN,
Tune—“Scots who hae wi' Wallace bled.”
Scots frae Maida's laurel'd strand,
Scots o' WELLINGTON's brave band,
Welcome to yere native land,
After glorious Victory !
Scotchmen bauld, by Scotchmen led,
For yere Country hae ye bled,
Making foemen's bluidy bed
In ilka field o' Wictory.
Another wreath about thy urn
Is twined, thou Chief o' Bannockburn,
And them we luve, and them we mourn,
Reminded us o' thee;
Whan to the winds the tartan threw
Its meteor faulds o' changefu' hue,
And on thy plain, red Waterloo,
The claymore reap'd the Victory !
Scots o' WELLINGTon’s brave band,
O' Egypt and o' Maida's strand,
Let's drain the bowl, and grasp the hand,
And sing the Sang o' Wictory.
It was presumption enough in me to appear in type on
the same page with Campbell; but it was all from the
heart, and I have no apology to offer.
As this chapter is peculiarly Scottish, I imagine that
a few specimens of Scottish sentiments on the subject
of Burns will not be unacceptable, at least to the
national portion of my readers; nor indeed to any
readers, for where is it that the admiration of Burns does
not prevail :
120 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
FROM MR. FRANCIS HORNER.
“Great Russell Street, May 10.
“I shall have great pleasure in concurring in any mark
of national respect for the memory of Burns, which cannot
be too strongly marked, not so much on account of his
eminent genius, as the ill-usage he met with from his con-
temporaries. You may therefore use my name, if you
suppose it can be of the least service, in the list of stewards
you are going to publish. I ought however to mention that
I have an engagement on the 25th inst., which will prevent
me from attending the company at dinner that day; but
it will still leave me at liberty to attend the meeting at the
beginning of it.
“I have the honour to be, Sir,
“Your obedient servant,
“F. HORNER.”
FROM MR. JAMES PERRY,
of THE “MoRNING CHRONICLE.”
“Strand, April 20.
“SIR,-
“I shall cheerfully subscribe towards the erection
of a monument to our great countryman Burns.
“As to the hostility of rival editors, I assure you I
disregard it; but I think it might be conducted without
personality.”
“I am, Sir, your humble servant,
“J. PERRY.”
* This was not amiss in the editor of the “Morning Chronicle !”
ROBERT BURNS : A RATHER SCOTCH CHAPTER. 121
FROM MR. GEORGE HATHORN,
AN EMINENT MERCHANT, who took A WARM INTEREST IN PROMOTING THE
MEETING, written AFTER IT HAD TAKEN PLACE.
“19, Woburn Place, June 26, 1816.
“DEAR SIR,-
“It is gratifying to find that the object in view
has been accomplished to the extent originally expected.
“The friends of the memory of poor Burns are deeply
indebted to you for the trouble you have taken, and I am
happy to think that your own feelings will repay you, but
allow me also to offer my thanks.
“I am, dear Sir,
“Yours very faithfully,
“GEORGE HATHORN.”
FROM MR. GRIERSON,
THE CHAIRMAN OF THE DUMFRIES COMMITTEE.
“Dumfries, May 31, 1816.
“DEAR SIR,- 5 3.
“It was with much pleasure I received your
kind favour with a ‘Sun' paper of Monday. Your meet-
ing has indeed been splendid, and the result has been
great.
“The committee feel much gratified by the success of
your undertaking, and we will ever remember, that to the
zeal and exertions of you and our worthy friend, Mr. Hunt,
all is owing ; and we join with you in regretting that the
arrangements of the day had not been completed, by drink-
ing the health of that excellent man to whose taste and
liberality we are so much indebted. Much he has done,
and much expense he has put himself to, and when he was
122 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
in Dumfries he would not accept of any reward for all his
trouble, and, still free of all charge, his pains are unwearied
to render the work complete. It has been in contemplation,
and will be carried into effect, to make Mr. Hunt a present
of a piece of plate, or something of the kind; although
perhaps we shall not be able to extend it in value equal to
his services, yet I hope it will not be unworthy. From the
interest you have taken, in confidence I mention this, and I
would be happy if you could give me your idea of what
article you think might prove most acceptable. I cannot say
what amount we may be able to go to, perhaps 30l. or 40l.
value might procure something tolerably handsome.
“Will be happy to hear from you when convenient, and
“I remain, dear Sir, yours truly,
& W. GRIERSON.”
I am afraid Mr. Hunt, who was the architect of the
monument, Mr. Turnerelli executing the sculpture, never
received the proposed honorarium.*
In conclusion, I have only farther to state that my
labours did not cease with the last-recorded toast. The
after-collection of subscriptions, and the price of tickets, was
very troublesome, as many of the parties forgot “which
was which,” and mixed them together in admired confusion,
and some forgot altogether. The after-reckoning required
nearly as much writing and sending as the preceding
preparations; and I would “caution” my friends who
may ever wish to undertake a similar task, or act the
distinguished part of “HoN. SEG.,” that they may lay
their account to have something to pay for it.
* I see a receipt to me signed “Peter Turnerelli” for 220l., in part
payment of the sculpture. The whole design was finished in September,
1819.
ROBERT BURNs: A RATHER SCOTCH CHAPTER. 123
But not to finish gravely, I beg to repeat a congenial
Scotch story suggested by the above Scotch phrase,
“Caution.” A Highland Donald was tried for a capital
offence, and had a rather narrow escape ; but the jury
found him “not guilty.” Whereupon the judge, in dis-
charging, thought fit to admonish him. “Prisoner! Before
you leave the bar, let me give you a piece of advice. You
have got off this time, but if ever you come before me again,
I'll be caution (surety), you'll be hanged.” “Thank you, my
Lord,” answered Donald, “thank you for your good advice,
and as I'm na ungratefu', I beg to gi'e your Lordship a
piece of advice in return. Never be caution for ony body;
for the cautioner has often to pay the penalty l’’
124 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
CHAPTER XI.
—é—
NOTES ON TIME FLYING,
For all my notions being genuine gold,
Beat out beneath the hammer, and expand
And multiply themselves a thousand fold,
Beyond the first idea that I plann’d :
Besides—this present volume must be sold ;
Besides—I promised Murray tºother day,
To let him have it by the tenth of May.*
WHISTLECRAFT.
MR. CANNING returned home in June, having been fêted
at Bordeaux on his way, and was immediately appointed
President of the Board of Control. In consequence of this
he stood a contested election—an election ridiculously con-
tested, but which afforded him opportunities for those
brilliant displays of eloquence, commingling every beauty of
oratory, including pungent ridicule and biting sarcasm,
which rendered him so feared and hated an antagonist by
those who were opposed to him. His terrible hits, dealt
by logical reasoning on profound data, but seasoned with so
much wit, and made memorable by such flights of poetry,
were “tolerable and not to be endured ;” and, I think
Canning alone was exposed to more misrepresentation and
* Erratum.—For the last two lines in verse, to read in prose: I promised
Hall, Virtue, and Co., to let them have it for the 1st of August.—Jerdam.
CANNING—SHERIDAN. 125
abuse, than any half-dozen political men or ministers I can
call to mind, even including Lord Castlereagh, with all the
vituperation of Ireland upon his head.
The playfulness of his conversation was equally felicitous,
and so gentle and unobtrusive, that one was surprised at the
end of an hour or two at recalling, or rather endeavouring
to recall, so many pleasantries which had passed unnoticed
at the moment of their utterance. The fact is, that in
seasons of familiar and social intercourse, the whole was
such a flow of quiet humour that, like a placid stream, you
hardly noticed the current, and it was only when some
salient point, not the best, but the most observable, from
the ripple it made, excited greater attention, that a small
portion of his gifts in this way could be recalled to
memory, or were susceptible of repetition. Thus, when
my worthy compatriot, Joseph Hume, was making his
strongest retrenching and popular efforts in Parliament,
Mr. Canning observed, “Hume is an extraordinary ordinary
man ;” that could be repeated, but the finest essence of
the accompanying discourse never could be expressed: it
melted into thin air, and was delicious to breathe. The
same may also be said of his jocular mot, on hearing
Mr. Fitzgerald recite a poem at the Literary Fund Anni-
versary, “Poeta nascitur non Fitz,” with which Fitz.
himself was excessively pleased. I may remark that pure
wit is the most evanescent of intellectual productions, and it
is only when mixed with a portion, more or less, of earthly
dross, that it can be made palpable. At the end of a
joyous and delightful party, you cannot describe what made
it so charming; you can only tell two or three, perhaps,
of the most material and least etherial jests, or sayings,
which floated on the surface of the deeper feast of reason.
Ideas abounded : language was only occasionally pointed.
2
126 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
The death of Mr. Sheridan cast a gloom over many of
his associates, and I may say, the public in general ;
though they were amused with Yorick jests, probably
invented for him, to exhibit the strength of the ruling
passion. His wit was just the opposite of what I have
endeavoured to explain as the wit of Canning. Its highest
flavour consisted of the more palpable spirit of which the
other left a smaller quantity to be carried off. Thus the
mot ascribed to him, when seated at the window a few
days before his death, and seeing a hearse go by, he
exclaimed, “Ah, that is the carriage after all !” was in
everybody's mouth, and compared with the slow-coach
joke of Rogers, who, when told that it was called the
“Regulator,” remarked, “I thought so, for all the others
go by it.” Another of Mr. Sheridan's, at this sad period,
was more likely to be true. His complaint was understood
to have arisen originally from a tumour, for which an
operation was advised that might have saved his life, but to
which he refused to submit, observing that he had suffered
two operations in his time, and would not submit to a third.
On being asked what they were, as they had not been heard
of before, he replied, “that he had had his hair cut, and
sat for his picture l’” Poor reminiscences these of the man
of such marvellous talent, that it is told of him, on the same
night when he made one of his brilliant speeches in Par-
liament, the “Duenna” was performed at one, and the
“Rivals” played at the other national theatre. But there
have been now five generations of his family distinguished
by great and hereditary talent. Mr. Sheridan's funeral
* I find a curious memorandum among my papers, I know not on what
authority, that a Mrs. Kirkman and Miss Sheldon, who long resided at
Edmonton, and kept a large ladies’ boarding school opposite the sign of
the renowned “Johnny Gilpin,” were the originals of two of the leading
characters in the “School for Scandal.”
“SPINNERS IN THE SUN.” - 127
was splendid, and realised his own lines, so as to render
them prophetic of himself: for there were
The splendid sorrows that adorned his hearse,
The throng that pressed as their dead favourite past—
The graced respect that claimed him to the last !
Sheridan was a type, a fortunate and exalted one, of a
numerous tribe, who had better opportunities in those days
than in ours. The display of superior abilities, which
promised to be useful to Parliamentary parties, opened, in
comparison with parliament now, a broad path to emulation,
and there was often a competition between Whig and Tory
to secure the attachment and co-operation of youths who
were distinguished at public schools and the universities.
Meanwhile the “Sun” dragged on a wearisome and
declining existence. The disputes of partners are sure to
be ruinous to any concern, and more irresistibly fatal to one
of a public nature. Instead of spirit and energy, cheered
by hope, my heart sickened with the task of just doing the
work which was absolutely necessary, and no more, and
knowing that all I could do was unavailing. Injunctions
in Chancery and suits for relief at law put an end to
some of the annoyances, but gave the mind and pen
sufficient occupation with other vexations. Perhaps this dis-
position of affairs relieved our more saturnine readers
from the infliction of a number of indifferent puns and
jeua d'esprit. I do not think I perpetrated three in
six months, and even Taylor ceased, comparatively, to utter
his complimentary impromptus and epigrams to his friends
and associates, whom he rather overpaid by terrible com-
plaints of me and my tyranny. Sir Matthew Wood's being
elected Lord Mayor for a second year, was the most prolific
subject, on which many squibs and crackers flew about,
128 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
and Dr. Parr's marriage to Miss Eyre hardly behind it.
Witness these—
Napoleon's city friends, it seems,
Are of their Favourite's mood;
And since they can’t his empire have,
They’ll do with his Long-Wood.
The City Giants that so long have stood,
At length we see removed by Brother Wood ;
Such is the spirit of Reform, we find,
For novelty 'twill sacrifice its kind.
Again—
DIALOGUE IN GUILDPHALL.
Gog. Pray, Magog, why should we withdraw—
Old Guardians of the Seat of Law P
Magog. Dear Gog, the reason thou hast told—
It is because that we are Old :
Art thou to learn the new Lord MAYor.
Of former times will little spare P
He's a Reformer, Gog, and so
Things can’t remain in Statuſ quo—
Not to know this, why, brother Gog,
Thou’rt quite of Wood another log
The next is more whimsical :—
Gog (loquitur). We three
Loggerheads be,
With Wood enough to spare.
I am Gog,
He’s Magog,
And who, sir, is the other Log-
gerhead P−Ask the Lord Mayor
Two or three of the jokes upon Dr. Parr—for I dare say
there were fifty—I only quote for the sake of their
signature :—
This match is late. No, state it fairly ;
It could not have been made more Eyre-ly.
“SPINNERS IN THE SUN.” 129
With his pipe” and his bride, though the people may stare,
The Doctor will look like a Justice in Eyre.
Let scoffers mock, what need he care,
He’s not too old to take the Air.
Oh such a Pair were never seen,
Since Ida's Mount so far is ;
For is not Eyre his Venus sheen,
And surely he her Parr-isl
For equal bridals all declare,
Who steer by Wisdom’s star;
Then Damsels all be taught by Eyre,
And learn to wed at PAR.
Again :-
When maiden Eyre
Preferred her prayer
To Heaven relief to gain;
These words alone
Her wants made known,
“Parr-donnez moi"—Amen.
Heaven heard the prayer
Of Virgin Fyre,
A prayer hard to be hard on—
And for sins past,
And to the last,
Has granted her her Parr-done.—W. J. ANDR£.
It was under the same anagram of my name that I pub-
lished my poem on the Jubilee in 1809 (of which I wish I
had a copy ?), and one of the most heinous crimes with which
Mr. Taylor charged me was, that I had gone by a false
alias, and it was to show my contempt for the accusation,
that I appended it to these doggerel lines, and sometimes
instead of Teutha, or no signature, to such trifles as the
following:—
BUONAPARTE AN OLD TROJAN.
Acting Sir Pandarus of Troy, now Boney fills the scena;
And well performs the Go-between from Paris to Helena.
* Dr. Parr was a most inveterate smoker, in which recreation, as well as
in other ways, he suffered not a few tricks when Tom Sheridan was
his pupil.
WOL. II. K
130 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
DIALOGUE DURING AN ECLIPSE, IN A MODERN STYLE,
Sweetest, sweetest, prithee say,
Is it night, or is it day P
Ask not, ask not, sweetest, pray,
For ’tis very hard to say.”
The return to peace was a period of very turbulent
transition, and riots and revolutionary meetings pervaded
the country. Among the latter, Hunt's famous Spa Fields
demonstration (the prototype of the Chartists at Kenning-
ton) was the most conspicuous, and at the time, Sir Francis
Burdett, Cobbett, Dr. Watson, and others were playing
demagogue very closely upon the borders of treason. And
though the Adelphi of the “Sun” were, as I have hinted,
in too sombre a condition to be lively, the paper was not
without an occasional sparkle of humour and vivacity.
Mr. Mulock, a gentleman of rare talent, contributed a series
of reports and bulletins, on the assumed ground that
Hunt had been committed to Bedlam as a lunatic, and
these gave an account of his aberrations when visitors
were admitted, which would not have been unworthy of
Dean Swift. Though so long ago, I feel confident that a
few extracts will not fail to be acceptable to the lovers of
fine satire. Mr. M., after stating Hunt's having fallen into
the pitiable condition of incurable mental derangement, and
acknowledging how much the “Sun” had reprobated his
previous proceedings, goes on to say, “We protest most
solemnly that we should have preferred hearing that
Mr. Hunt had been hanged, rather than that he should
have been visited with the intellectual infliction which now
* There were others merry endugh to create a smile or laugh at the
Season, but too insignificant to look back upon at a distance ; and that is a
good reason why I should fancy the few that I have copied quite sufficient
as Samples.
MR. MULOCK. 131
so horribly humiliates him. In order to secure the sympathy
of the Public, we shall now proceed to communicate the
details which have been supplied us respecting the lament-
able progress of Mr. Hunt's disorder. On the morning of
Friday, it was observed by some friends who called upon
Mr. Hunt, in order to accompany him to the meeting in
Spa Fields, that there was a more than usual incoherence
in his conduct, language, and manners. Contrary to the
earnest exhortations of his compatriots, he dressed himself
for the meeting, and betrayed in his whole deportment an
aristocratic foppery, which very considerably tended to
weaken the regards of his staunchest adherents. It was
remarked, too, that Mr. Hunt’s oaths were more refined
and classical than he had been accustomed to use in his
quality of popular blasphemer. As a conclusive indicant of
Some portentous change, it was noticed that Mr. Hunt
assumed a lofty and condescending air towards his former
companions, which, however well-meant, was certainly very
ill-taken.” Hunt's speech is then mentioned as affording
palpable proofs of alienation of mind, but “it was reserved
for the critical vigilance of his immediate friends to detect
more infallible symptoms of derangement in certain eccen-
tricities of his conduct. For example, Mr. Hunt quitted his
Plebeian elevation on a hackney coach, and addressed the
people from one of the windows of the “Loyal Volunteer,'
and thus screened from the winds without, and warmed
with good brandy placed providentially within, he declaimed
his two hours to the undrammed and unsheltered multitude.
In the course of his speech too, Mr. Hunt wandered into
episodes which were little relished by the friends of equality.
A passage, accusing Mr. Canning of being ‘a new man,’
utterly unable to trace a long line of noble ancestors, gave
particular umbrage to the ‘green-coated orator’ (Mr. Dyall),
K 2
132 AN - AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
who remarked, with much fairness and not less asperity,
that ‘Reformers had no business to talk of jinney-ologies,
as no man had a natural right to have ancestors to the pre-
judice of other worthy citizens.’” The description of Hunt's
increasing madness, and fancying himself a monarch, with
palaces, households, &c., till he arrived at Cooper's Hotel,
is very racy; and the introduction of Cobbett puffing his
“Political Register” no less so ; but at length Hunt is
taken to Bedlam. “Sir Francis Burdett called at Bedlam
in the course of Sunday, and from a plausible misapprehen-
sion of the officers of the hospital, was, for some time,
detained in a cell adjoining that of Mr. Hunt, November
18th.” The first bulletin is as follows:—
* CITIZEN HUNT'S MALADY.
“New Bedlam, Monday, noon.
“In answer to the countless inquiries that have been
made during the last twenty-four hours respecting the
health of Citizen Hunt, we lament to say that the unhappy
sufferer's malady continues as violent as ever. The medical
officers of the hospital being of opinion that the visitors
introduced to Citizen Hunt have materially contributed to
exasperate his disorder, Sir Francis Burdett and Mr. Cobbett
are excluded from Bedlam for the present.
(Signed) “JOHN DYALL, G.C.O.
THOMAS PRESTON, Sec.”
Tuesday's bulletin reports him insisting on a royalty
Sturgeon and imperial pop ; and other bulletins and papers
contain much more of the same entertaining description,
but I shall only copy a portion of the interview at last
obtained by Sir F. Burdett. “It seems that Sir Francis,
MR. MULOCK. 133
having been shown into a gallery in which a number of
persons were striding up and down, their hands tied some-
what rigidly behind their backs, the worthy baronet, shocked
at these visible signs of tyranny, declaimed with great
energy against strait-waistcoats. Some of the myrmidons
of the hospital endeavouring to allay the ‘whirlwind and
tempest' of his unseasonable oratory, Sir Francis pulled
out his old copy of Magna Charta, and read it with such
vehemence to the kindling crowd, that two of the ‘marshals
of the palace,’ as Mr. Hunt had styled them, dragged the
senator, without delay, into a very dark and narrow cell,
where he remained in durance vile until the surgeon went
his evening round. Mr. Hunt was in a sitting posture when
Sir Francis was introduced, and he deigned to notice the
baronet only by a slight inclination of the head. The
miserable maniac's brows were shaded with straws, fantas-
tically wreathed into ‘the likeness of a kingly crown.” A
small piece of well-twisted rope hung round his neck, from
which depended a bored half-crown. A striped purple-
checked handkerchief, with which Pat Corcoran (the Irish
chairman who brought him in) had fastened Mr. Hunt's
wrists, now furnished a garter to encircle his “manly leg.’
In short, no madhouse mimicry of royalty ever exhibited so
much melancholy accuracy as the pitiable affectations of
Mr. Hunt. Sir Francis Burdett at length asked him “how
he felt himself 3" to which he replied, with a touching
simplicity, not unmixed with dignity, that “he felt himself
quite at home.’ Mr. Hunt added something, though
indistinctly expressed, about appointing Sir Francis, Lieu-
tenant of the Tower, a situation for which the worthy
baronet's local knowledge tended, he said, eminently to
qualify him “Hunt,’ exclaimed Sir Francis, “recollect
yourself We, you well know, are bound to acknowledge
134 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
no sovereign but our Sovereign the Majesty of the People.’
‘A fig for the people,’ rejoined Citizen Hunt; ‘born for
my use, they live but to obey me.’ Hunt's frenzy augments
till he proclaims himself every inch a king, and mutters
Something about having execution done on Cawdor, which
“so startled Burdett that the patriotic baronet retreated
with the utmost precipitation, leaving part of his baggage
and artillery, namely, Magna Charta and Paine’s “Rights
of Man,’ in the hands of Citizen Hunt.”
The scene with Cobbett is equally rich and pertinent to
the time; but as that time has gone by, I will rest satisfied
with this brief specimen of Mr. Mulock, who has since
distinguished himself by much able and animated writing ;
and, though I have lost sight of him for awhile, is yet, I
trust, in the land of the living and in the full enjoyment of
his fine faculties. He, like myself, was very faithfully
attached to Mr. Canning, and that the latter took an
interest in his enthusiastic admirer, the annexed note to
me from Mr. Backhouse respecting these sportive effusions
will show :-
“India Board, December 7, 1816.
“Mr. Backhouse presents his compliments to Mr. Jerdam,
and requests to be informed whether it is possible now to
obtain a copy of each of those two numbers of the ‘Sun '
which contain Mr. Mulock's excellent quiz on Hunt ; viz.,
his committal to Bedlam, and Cobbett's visit. They are
for Mr. Canning's perusal; these papers, which Mr. Back-
house sent to Mr. Canning in France, having crossed him
on the road and gone on to Paris.
“If copies of them are not to be obtained at this late
period, would it be in Mr. Jerdan's power to favour
MR. MULOCK. 135
Mr. Backhouse with the loan of those particular numbers
for the above purpose ? They should be punctually
returned.”
A note from Mr. Canning himself, three days after,
relating to some other papers I had submitted to him, is
yet more deserving of a place, as characteristic of his
chivalrous spirit:—
“Gloucester Lodge, Tuesday morning, Dec. 10, 1816.
“Mr. Canning returns the papers which Mr. Jerdan has
been so good as to send to him, with many thanks for the
opportunity of reading them.
“The paragraph, which Mr. J. incloses, may be safely
left to itself; it is obviously nonsense, and could not be
made sense, but by a breach of private confidence which
even example cannot justify. I saw the lady in question
frequently—so far is true—but a woman's name should
never be mentioned with rebuke, and therefore I beg that
you will say nothing (on my account) about her.”
Not being a dog, I am loth to return to my theme of the
“Sun” and its troubles; but it was so important a crisis in
my career, that I must yet devote some pages to it ; and
among my miscellaneous remembrances of this period, only
mention the palmy days of the New Lanark Establishment,
under Mr. Owen, before his ideas got so wild and chimerical;
and the intrigue by which Lord Byron and Mr. Kinnaird
were hoisted out of the Committee of Drury Lane manage-
ment.
It was about six months before that I had provoked the
ire of the noble lord, as related in my first volume, by my
136 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
remarks in the “Sun” upon his unworthy “Sketch from
Private Life,”
Born in a garret, in the kitchen bred,
Promoted thence to deck her mistress' head.
The observations which stung him were thus worded :-
“What, in truth, had the public to do with the unhappy
fate of Lady and Lord Byron. What had they to do with
his folly, or his madness, or his vice 7 With the charge of
mercilessness urged against his unfortunate wife 3 With
the insinuations of such misconduct on the part of her
Mother as placed her within the power of a wicked con-
fidante 2 or with the character of that domestic | One
might say—
Rest, perturbed Spirit, rest
*
But alas, for such a genius as Lord Byron's, there seems
to be allied to the fine essence which forms the immortal
bard, a sad, desolate, and weary principle which deforms
the man.”
Then Mr. Owen came to London with his schemes for
parallelogram settlements. I was one of the few to whom
he communicated them, and consulted ; and, from the first,
I pointed out their impracticability, and showed him the
rock on which he would split. But at that time he did not
go a tenth of the length to which he has since gone.
LITIGATION AND WEXATION. 137
CHAPTER XII.
-Ö–
LITIGATION AND WEXATION.
What dire malignant planet sheds,
Ye bards, his influence on your heads 2
Lawyers, by endless controversies,
Consume unthinking clients’ purses, -
As Pharaoh's kine, which strange and odd is,
Devoured the plump and well-fed bodies.—BRoomE.
I MUST preface this painful chapter by declaring my
belief that if Mr. Taylor had had anything of the knave in
him, or been imbued with a moderate quantum of worldly
wisdom, our disputes might have been accommodated ; but
he was truly, as I have depicted him, a man of the stage,
and would not be reasoned with or advised. His conduct
was throughout so irrational, that to the very last I never
could divest myself of the idea that he was only acting ;
and, in stating this case, I rejoice that I have approached
so much nearer our own date, that there are many living
witnesses of the highest character who can attest the perfect
truth of my statements respecting this miserable miscarriage
and wreck of fortune. His son, now living, is, I am
informed, an estimable man, and I doubt not his young
reminiscences are yet taxed with some of the scenes he
could not help witnessing, but, with all his filial affections,
I believe he must assent to the perfect truth of my narrative;
and, as I have said nothing to affect his father's moral
138 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
worth, but the reverse, I trust that no word I have written
can displease or pain him. Mr. Taylor had also a brother,
an oculist, as he himself had been, and a sister, and both
were a little eccentric in character.
It has been said, “you had better have dealings with a
rogue than a fool;” since a rogue can at any rate be
convinced to act for his own interest. In this matter I
can certainly ascribe (and I am thankful I can do so)
my loss and vexation to a weak judgment and not to a bad
heart.
Early in the disagreement, mutual friends on all sides
were anxious to prevent the evils they foresaw, and from
memoranda I have before me, I find that Mr. Thomas
Clarke (of the firm of Fynmore and Clarke, Mr. Taylor's
solicitors), had proposed, on the part of Mr. Taylor, that we
should refer our differences to arbitration, so that we
might go on together on pacific terms. Previously to
this I had taken the opinion of counsel, as copied in a
preceding chapter, upon the point of bringing an action
against him for slander ; and if this proceeding was to be
stopped by a reference, I insisted, as a preliminary, that he
should disavow in writing the “knowledge of any thing
which could militate against my reputation as an honest
man, or my honour as a gentleman,” as the “only grounds
on which he could resume an amicable connection with credit
to himself; ” and my letter to Mr. Clarke added—
“It is needless to observe that after what has passed,
some time of good faith and regulated intercourse must
elapse, and mutual proofs of a determination to act properly
together must be given, before anything like a cordial recon-
ciliation takes place. What sacrifices are made now, are
made to interest and not to affection. That I am not of a
vindictive disposition, I presume Mr. Taylor's experience of
LITIGATION AND WEXATION. 139
me will acknowledge, and the legal course I have resorted
to will confirm. I could have harassed Mr. Taylor with
lawsuits, which, though not sufficient for my purpose, would
have exposed him to great expenses (I speak as advised by
eminent counsel). I have not done this: finding obstacles
in the way of full self-vindication, I dropped all proceedings,
which could only have gratified revenge. The steps I have
taken are merely calculated to define our mutual rights.
This, I imagine, is the object proposed by a reference.
Perhaps it might, with the preliminary before stated, be
attained by agreement even without the latter expense.
Shortly, then, will Mr. Taylor write the letter I demand,
and state his willingness to go on amicably with me?
If he at once adopts this just and salutary course,
I am not afraid but he will endeavour to repair the bitter
injuries he has done me in all quarters. As passion led
him to endeavour to blast the hopes of a fellow creature,
a better feeling will induce him to employ stronger efforts
to eradicate the evil he has planted.
“It will then be requisite to state precisely what he
wishes to have referred. I have nothing to gain by this
but peace, and a co-operation more for his own advantage
than mine, and I will yield to it only on these grounds;
for, after the opinions I have had of the first lawyers, I am
not at all apprehensive but that I can very summarily
establish all the pretensions which I set up.
“Your immediate answer to this letter, written in the
spirit of conciliation, is requested, as, if satisfactory, I may
pause in incurring heavy expenses.
“Yours truly, &c.,
« W. J.”
The legal difficulties above alluded to will be readily
140 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
comprehended by those who are aware of the technicalities
which shut out the truths of the whole of any case being
allowed to be brought out in a court of justice. This and
that are out of the record, or something or another of that
sort is sure to prevent the disclosure or proof of circum-
stances which parties may consider most material ; but which
are, perhaps necessarily, excluded as not directly bearing
upon the issue in question, and opening too wide a field for
the established system of forensic investigation. The legal
opinions I have quoted will illustrate this. But meanwhile
I find the next mention of Mr. Taylor, is a proposition about
the sale of his share in the property, or the purchase of all.
My letter to Messrs. Fynmore and Clarke will show how
this was received :—
“Little Chelsea, Feb. 8th, 1816.
“GENTLEMEN,
“I confess that while so important a part of our
correspondence as my letter of the 20th ult., is lying un-
noticed, I was surprised by your note of yesterday,
requiring ‘an early and definite answer.’ The purport of
that note, besides this indecorum, I do not clearly appre-
hend. Sure I am, that you would not be the conscious
instruments of a design to entrap me into unwary con-
cessions, and your client has no claim for any voluntary
facilities towards his speculations to be afforded on my part.
If he purchase, or if he sell, it must be at his own respon-
sibility; I absolve myself from interference with, and still
more distinctly from sanctioning, either.
“I inclose two letters for your client, open, that you may
be aware of their contents. My object in calling for a
settlement of accounts is that I may receive the salary due
to me, a current expense, and such as ought surely to be
LITIGATION AND WEXATION, 141
paid without putting me to the trouble of taking harassing
legal measures to enforce it, and expose what ought to be
kept secret. The other matter is more personal, and
explains itself. Be assured that it is most painful to me to
find myself drawn into so unpleasant a predicament, but
constant insults and injuries admit of no medium course,
and have determined me to hold no measures with a person
unceasingly on the watch to turn every transaction to
my prejudice.
“I am, Gentlemen,
“With sincere esteem and regard,
“Your obedient servant,
“W. JERDAN.
“MEssRs. FYN MoRE AND CLARKE.”
The meaning of this is explained by the following letter
from Mr. Gray, my solicitor, whose sudden and recent death
has caused me, as already noticed, to lament the loss of
another old and intimate friend, added to the dark list of
half a century.
“DEAR SIR,
“I have been to Westminster Hall the whole
morning, and have not had time to call upon you.
“Yourself v. Taylor for breach of covenant. The
defendant has pleaded that he never executed the deed of
partnership; on this plea, therefore, there is no doubt but
you must have a verdict, and the only question will be the
amount of damages. This is a curious plea, after all his
vapouring. Archdall kept the appointment, and gave his
note of hand for 33l. 13s., payable at a guinea-and-a-half
per month.”
This last piece of information deserves a note, illustrative
142 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
of the law of Dr. and Cr. in those days, and the practices
to which they led. Archdall was the son-in-law of
Mr. Lane, the editor of the “Globe” while I was engaged
on that journal. Archdall, unlike the porter-quaffing and
pipe-smoking nightly editor of the Aurora, described in my
first volume, being only a reporter, prolonged his indulgences
throughout the day, and was, in short, a quiet, large,
guzzling native of the Emerald Isle, who would have been
fresh and good-looking but for the reddening splashes on
his countenance, and especially on his nose, occasioned by
habitual intemperance. Having good credit as the editor's
son, he got into some debt for the vivres and tipple, for
which he was suddenly called to account ; on which occa-
sion I consented to be one of his bail, my fellow-surety for
the production of his portly and port-filled person when legal
occasion required, being a man who kept a convenient
tavern somewhere behind the Admiralty, whence he dis-
pensed chops, with stout (Pale Ale not yet having become
so popular) and other condiments, to clerks in the adjacent
government offices, and responsible newspaper reporters.
This Boniface, being also a considerable creditor, kindly
consented to save the now hampered consumer of what
hampers held, from durance vile. Well, I heard no more
of the business, and thought little or nothing about it after ;
supposing that our friend had settled the disagreeable
affair, and “there an end.” But it was not so ; and never
could I forget a fine summer evening, when I was sauntering
up the Strand, with some notes of a slight Parliamentary
debate in my pocket, a civil gentleman at the top of Cecil-
street, endeavoured to get me into a little private con-
versation. I told him I had not leisure to attend to him ;
and then he appeared to wish to show me something,
which I, fancying it was a rich India shawl, or some
LITIGATION AND WEXATION. 143
beautiful smuggled handkerchiefs, refused to look at. But
the smuggler was persevering, and intimated to me that a
Mr. Heinrich, or Henrich, whom I knew by name as a
member of the Eccentric Society, and an attorney, had some-
thing very particular to say to me down the street, where he
lived. Of course I turned down, to ascertain what this
interesting communication might be ; and had not pro-
ceeded many steps when my new acquaintance tapped me on
the shoulder, and arrested me, in the name of some terrible
judge, intimating, at the same time, that he expected I
would remember his civility in not exposing me to capture
in the more public Strand. The attorney who played this
unhandsome trick, did reside a few houses down the street;
but my otherwise accommodating companion, who was soon
joined by another friend, would not accompany me thither.
I had been joint-bail for a debt of about 20l., the loss of
half of which I thought could not hurt me, but I was,
unwarned and unapprised, in custody for between 60l. and
70l., as the writ too clearly witnessed, under somebody’s
hand or hands with which I was not familiar. I was
accordingly sorely perplexed, but the bailiff consented, for a
promised consideration, to go with me to the “Morning
Post” office, where I fortunately found my friend Mr. Byrne,
and, though past banking hours, we contrived to satisfy the
demand, with the few guineas annexed for the delicacy with
which the commission was executed, and the accommodation.
I was repaid the balance mentioned in Mr. Gray's note, in the
manner arranged ; but the poor innkeeper had also been
taken, notoriously, from the midst of his business, and the
blight upon his creditled to his ruin. The law is bad enough
yet, but it is much amended since then, and must, now
the country is awakened to its oppressions, be quickly
amended much more.
144 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
Poor Archdall, he was truly ashamed of plunging me
into such a scrape. Witness the annexed,—
“127, Strand.
“MY DEAR SIR,-
“If you will allow me to call you by that appel-
lation, I would request that you would meet my other creditors
to-morrow evening at Hillyard's (Oliver's Coffee-house), to-
morrow evening (sic) at six o'clock. Thirteen weeks have
occurred since I commenced my first payment, and it is
necessary that a dividend should be made. Believe me, I
should have seen you before this, but have been ashamed of
apparent ill-conduct, which I trust on a personal communi-
cation with you, I shall be able to prove was not intentional.
Have the goodness to bring the amount of your demand
with you.
“Your sincere and obliged friend,
* JOHN ARCHD ALL.”
This however was a momentary and an amusing scratch,
while the consuming sore ripened in the “Sun.” Further
counsel was sought, and every effort, and abstinence from
effort, tried in vain to bring about an accommodation which
might avert the consequences of the mad warfare now
waging. Another letter from my solicitor, Mr. Gray, will
explain some new features in the case.
“ October 28th, 1816.
“DEAR SIR,-
“I had an interview for above an hour to-day
with Mr. Frederick Pollock, and the inclination of his
opinion is very strongly in favour of leaving all matters in
difference to some mutual friend. I represented to him
LITIGATION AND WEXATION. 145
pº
that Mr. Heriot and Mr. Clarke had been successively
named and refused by Taylor, and that he had offered an
arbitration only on some particular points, which, of course,
could not be accepted. Mr. P. says, he thinks you stand
at present in a more imposing position than ever, from
having obtained the judgment against Taylor, and he does
not seem to be very sanguine as to large damages. Though
he admits, if even moderate damages were obtained, it
would go a great way to settle with Taylor. He says as
you have received no special damage by the speaking of
the words, the damages will not be very great, but they
would either stop his mouth, or pave the way to a much
larger sum on a second offence. He discourages an indict-
ment for perjury, and says it will utterly preclude, in his
opinion, any arrangements, as a defendant in such a case
generally answers to such a proposition, you have an
indictment pending over me, and until that be fixed or
settled some way or other, I cannot treat with you at all.
“My father and myself are to see Mr. Pollock to-morrow.
If you could conveniently previously have an interview with
my father (say two o'clock precisely) it would be quite
as well.
“I communicated to my father the result of my
consultation with Mr. Pollock, with whom he does not quite
agree.
“I am, dear Sir, yours truly,
<< RT, GRAY.
“W. Jerd AN, Esq.”
I had thought that a reference to the former proprietors
of the paper, Messrs. Heriot and Clarke, must have been
satisfactory: nothing would do but idle negotiations and
changeable propositions. Every day the “Sun" rose
WOL. II. L
146 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
dismally and set in murky, unilluminated clouds. Mr. Lewis
Goldsmith, the editor of the “Antijacobin" newspaper, and
Mr. Swift of the Regalia Office in the Tower, were pro-
posed as arbiters to arrange the dispute ; but all to no
purpose. Mr. Goldsmith fancied that he had brought the
affair to an amicable adjustment ; but he was not aware of
the mutability of the party who had apparently acquiesced
in his arrangement, and assured him that he “intended forth-
with to go to prepare arbitration bonds for that purpose.”
Instead of this issue, the petty squabbles and more
serious annoyances were continued with unabated fury. But
I will not be tempted to prolong this wretched history much
more ; only as I have related it my way, I deem it fair to
let the reader know the full extent of my opponent's allega-
tions against me. The paper had commenced the year
1817 without the customary address, and no wonder, for
the following is one of my colleague's elaborated letters,
not exactly in the style of Junius:—
“Swn Office, 112, Strand, Feb. 8th, 1817.
“SIR,-
“You might well apologise to Mrs. Taylor for
your brutal insolence to her husband, but she despises you
too much to care for your manners. She only wants you to
do justice to her husband. You complain of provocation | | |
Is not your absolute tyranny over my property a continued
provocation to me? Is your conduct to be reconciled to
any principle of justice, or any feeling of shame 2 You
know you acquired your power by accident. You never
paid a farthing towards it, but have drained it of a large
sum. You know it is justly my own paper, yet will you
permit me to have the least control over it? Do not you
monopolise power in all directions ? Might not I, living in
LITIGATION AND WEXATION. 147
the house, if I had a fair and just authority, be of the utmost
service in forwarding the paper, when you, perhaps, are
not out of your bed. Might not Mr. Carstairs, if any
discretionary power were entrusted to him, prepare for pub-
lication early, render important service to the paper, and in
doubtful cases should not I be at hand to assist him £
People will not believe that any man could tyrannise over
another man's property, as you do over mine? Have you not,
in many instances, brought discredit upon the paper ? Must
not everything that I write be submitted to your inspection,
and, in spite of all the animosities which the practice has
occasioned, to your additions or alterations 2 Sir, it is inso-
lent to alter even the position of a comma of my writing.
Do you not garble the productions of official correspondents,
and set your narrow judgment and scanty knowledge against
those who have official information ? If this be not the
most horrible provocation, what is ? Yet you complain of
provocation. You call me a beggar. You are then a
beggar's dependent, and live upon the credit of a beggar's
property. But beggar, as you call me, if I had not forborne
to take my salary for two years, and Mr. Heriot for the
same period, how would you have gained the 800l. which
you took out of the concern, and which, according to a
statement, which has been made out, you owe to the pro-
perty at this moment, besides 1311. 5s. for French papers
which you never procured, and 116!. for the law expenses
occasioned by your breach of covenant in trespassing upon
my department, in hiring writers without my permission ?
Have you not brought a man who received nothing but
kindness from me, and from whom I have received written
acknowledgments to that purpose—have you not brought
him to insult me at the office After coming shamefully
late to the office, do you not make it often as a coffee-room
L 2
148 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
and a gossiping mart, to the delay of publication, and to the
injury, and nearly destruction, of the paper ? Yet you
presume to tell Mrs. Taylor of provocation. I most heartily
pity your poor wife, for her afflictions must be heightened
by the consideration that you bring all that she suffers on
yourself by your conduct towards me. While you were
responsible to others you seemed to have some plea, but
you now are to be considered as responsible to me only. Is
not your conduct arrogant, insolent, and oppressive to the
highest degree ? As you never could suppose that the
arbitrators would confirm your assumed power, it might
have been expected that you would have abated of your
sovereignty by degrees. But have you relaxed at all ?
Thank God, I could never commit such conduct, or I should
be as callous as you are to the opinions of mankind. If you
had conducted yourself with any regard to my just rights,
and like a gentleman, matters might have been harmoniously
arranged between us. People who have known me all my
life, know that I am far from being of a quarrelsome or
unkind disposition ; but they know that I am firm in the
maintenance of my rights. I have a wife and son to
support, and you are ruining the property which I hoped to
be able to bequeath to them. Can you offer any one plea
in favour of your conduct, or rather in palliation or excuse
for it? and living upon the credit of my property as you do,
and not permitting me to have any share in the manage-
ment of it, dare you talk of provocation | Sir, do not
give me much more provocation, for if you do, I will make
a brief but emphatic statement to the world, and then I
believe your right will soon be at an end. Reflect upon
this letter before it is too late, and reform, otherwise, the
Lord have mercy upon you.
<< JOHN TAYLOR.
“MR. WILLIAM JERDAN.”
LITIGATION AND WEXATION. 149
One might fancy such a setting down enough, but not so
my indefatigable correspondent. Within a few days he
followed up his charges with more artillery, of which the
annexed is an example—
“SIR,
“I have seen your answer to my note to Mr. Carstairs,
and I still say that I do not believe a syllable you say or
write, Your treatment of me is revolting to the feelings of
everybody who hears of it, but your own wretched syco-
phants, who can be bribed to your cause by the play-house
freedoms, which you find so wseful. You told me, before
Mr. Owen, that Mr. Canning “despised me for attempting
to lessen your credit with him,’ and you told Mr. Owen
that you had had a kind and friendly letter from Mr.
Canning. I shall endeavour to ascertain both of these
points, though I believe neither. When I told you that I
should advise Mr. Freeling to return the manuscript which
you took from Bellingham, and which ought to have been
surrendered to the law, or to the widow, you said, ‘Mr.
Freeling would laugh at me.' * If so, I shall certainly put
him into a jocular mood, but I believe that he will not
* The annexed note on the subject will dispose of this foolery.
“ G. P. O., Thursday.
“My DEAR SIR,
“Nothing but overwhelming business could have prevented my
thanking you expressly for the kindness which induced you to put the
Bellingham Manuscript into my possession—I have never been insensible
of your constant and unwearied regard to my gratification, of which your
note of this morning affords another proof.
“I can have no other objection than that which arises unaffectedly from
the time and labour which it must cost you to add anything so valuable to
what you have already so kindly bestowed.
“Believe me, with the sincerest regards,
“Yours always,
“F. FREELING." .
150 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
think that he has reason to rejoice in having sacrificed a
friend whom he had known nearly thirty years, for a person
with whom he casually became acquainted, because that
person dedicated a sneaking, fawning address to him in a
work to which he singly put his name as translator, though
he was assisted by two others. I have made a minute of
everything relating to your conduct, since you came to this
place, and have most, if not all, of everything you have
written to me. All shall in due time be promulged, and
then it will be seen if you are a proper object for govern-
ment protection. You know what I mean. I shall cer-
tainly file a bill in chancery against you, to require a
knowledge of all you have received, if you have received
anything, on account of the paper. I have made you
several liberal proposals, which I have been told I was
mad in offering, and you more mad in declining. You have
never proposed a modification of your accidentally obtained
and ill-exercised power, and your proposals to quit the
concern have been so extravagant as to excite laughter. I
once more ask you what sum you will take to abandon your
connection with the paper ? I expect your answer on Monday.
But you must not regulate it by your estimate of ‘the
patronage of the paper,' which you have sometimes rated
at three thousand, and sometimes at five thousand, pounds.
This estimate will be a strong point in my account of your
proceedings. You have often accused me of attempting to
undermine your character—your character | | | I have
stated nothing but facts, which can be proved by others,
and God forbid that I should resort to needless and wanton
exaggerations. Remember, I shall on Monday resort to
you to know what sum you require to relinquish all con-
nection with a property which you have nearly ruined.
“JOHN TAYLOR,”
LITIGATION AND WEXATION. 151
With a few lines of mine in general reply to the foregoing,
and fifty equally agreeable epistles, I shall relieve my
readers of a correspondence, the publication of at least a
portion of which was indispensable to my biography.
“Old Brompton.”
“GENTLEMEN,-
“In answer to your note, I will accept one
thousand pounds in full for salary (being now between five
and six hundred pounds in arrear) and profits as a pro-
prietor of the ‘Sun,’ and a well-secured annuity of two
hundred pounds for my life. Upon these terms I will
surrender all the rights I have in the ‘Sun' newspaper.
This letter is without prejudice to pending proceedings.
“I am, Gentlemen,
“Your most obedient Servant,
* W. JERIDAN.
“MEssrs. FYNMoRE AND CLARKE.”
“7th March, Sun Office, afternoon.
“MR. TAYLOR, SIR,
“It is very painful to be forced day after day to
reply to the same sort of letters, especially after declining
so positively as I have done the inconveniencies of your
correspondence, and stating how decisively I had made up
my mind to the line of conduct which it had become
imperative on me to pursue. On the subject of the paper
be assured I will notice no communication; and with
regard to offers of purchase, sale, or reference, Mr. Gray
will from this date be the proper organ. I have nothing
to add but that I do not value your offer of an annuity
while the ‘Sun' is published, at 20s., and have no altera-
tion to notice in my sentiments respecting the life annuity,
152 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
in which, if you were sincere in what you said, I was
accepting vour own proposal.
pting y prop “ W. JERDAN.”
The best commentary upon the pecuniary assertions con-
tained in the first broadside, will be found in the terms of
my letter, when so badgered and plagued, that I had agreed
to sell my interest; and will demonstrate the heavy loss at
which I got out of this senseless and disgraceful squabble ;
in which, not to espouse the cause of my infuriate vitupe-
rator, was to be guilty of a heinous offence: witness the
following, addressed to a gentleman of the highest character,
who had peremptorily refused his adhesion, as all others
did, either in that manner or by shunning intercourse.
“ 31st October, 1816, Sun Office, 112, Strand.
“DEAR SIR,-
“When I had the pleasure of meeting you some-
time ago in the Argyle Rooms, and complained to you of
the treatment which I experienced from your friend,
Mr. Jerdan, you said you thought he was right, and that in
the same situation you should act in the same manner.
Now as I shall “be glad to learn of abler men,' I should
esteem it a great favour if you would let me know upon
what principle of morality and common justice, to say
nothing of religion, you would justify such treatment,
from one who is not the proprietor of a single share
of the ‘Sun' newspaper, to one who is the proprietor of
nine-tenths.
“I beg leave to thank you for your recent critique on
‘Coriolanus;' but I fear it is much too sublime and poetical
for ordinary readers, and may be misconstrued into bombast
and turgidity by the vulgar—“Caviare to the million.’
LITIGATION AND WEXATION. 153
“I forgot, I fear, to tell you that I in vain attempted to
obtain a written acknowledgment from Mr. Jerdan of your
claim upon him for letters written from Paris, though, as I
learned from you, he had repeatedly promised to give one.
But this is one of the features of his conduct which shall be
properly noticed in due time and place.
“I am, dear Sir, sincerely yours,
5 j
“JOHN TAYLOR,
“THE Rev. GeoRGE CRoLY.”
154 AN AUTOBIOGRAPII.Y.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE “SUN” FINALE.
But, Oh! remember the indignant Press;
Honey is bitter to its fond caress;
But the black venom that its hate lets fall
Would shame to sweetness the hyena’s gall.—HolMEs.
How calm, how beautiful, comes on
The stilly hour when storms are gone.—MooRE.
I shALL very briefly indeed conclude this sad eventful
history, though adorned with the animated and provoking
portraiture of myself, exhibited in the preceding chapter.
The 800l. mentioned was, alas! all I got for about four
years’ labour, at a nominal salary of 5461. per annum.
The French Papers were procured under circumstances I
have previously alluded to, when single journals smuggled
over were frequently purchased almost like pigs in pokes at
a late hour in the afternoon, at extraordinary prices; and
the contributions paid for were the absolutely necessary
articles for every respectable newspaper. The first item
was indeed a hard reproach for me to bear—the 800l.
representing my right to nearly 2200l., of which I
was defeated by a legal distinction ; such as often covers
villany, though I do not impute it in this instance, because
the condition of our banker at the moment (Sir W. Stirling),
and the state of the “Sun "account rendered the payment
THE “sun * 2
FINALE. 155
impossible. But the fact was, that when I proceeded in
Chancery to recover this claim, it was referred to a Master,
who found that by the deed of copartnery I was entitled to
“take and receive for myself the sum of ten guineas weekly
as salary;” that I had not done so, but allowed the long
arrear to accumulate, and therefore was not legally entitled
to a verdict. Mr. Fladgate, who drew the deed, and Mr.
Clarke, who was a party to it (Mr. Heriot, the other party,
being in the West Indies), offered their evidence that such a
construction was never contemplated and could not be
intended ; but the Master, on a right principle, said he
could not receive parole testimony to overturn the litera
scripta, but the case was so hard that he would not pro-
nounce a judgment in it at all. He was not aware that it
would have been equally hard to get the money if he had
pronounced in my favour ; but it would have been a potent
instrument for procuring a just settlement of all differences,
and as such I greatly desiderated it. The allusion to Mr.
Freeling's friendship may be illustrated by the following
note from that gentleman :-
“General Post Office, 19th September, 1815.
“DEAR JERDAN,
“I could almost be uneasy if I did not know that
the world will attribute to your own generous and friendly
appreciation of me those two handsome and liberal expres-
sions in which you have indulged yourself respecting me.
Be assured, however, that I am grateful for your good
opinion, and for the warm and affectionate manner in which
it is conveyed.
“Always yours truly,
“F. FREELING.”
156 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
How I sustained this unequal combat would be a mystery,
had I not to record the generous friendship of Mr. Freeling,
who was not only cognisant of all I have related, but I may
say a party concerned in it; and who, knowing how much
I must be harassed under the circumstances, surprised me
by one of those acts which are so rare in the world, and
supplied me first liberally from his own purse, and after-
wards farther by his influence, and thus enabled me to
weather the storm. Never can I forget the manner in
which he came to my succour. I was hailed at my office-door
to step into a hackney coach, and found him proceeding in
haste, or apparent haste, to the Post-office in Lombard Street.
He said he had not time to call, but wished to put a letter
into my hands; and that was all for which he took the
liberty to trouble me to come in. He gave me the letter,
and set me down in Fleet Street ; so the journey was not
long, but the enclosure was sufficient to save me from much
annoyance, and last a long while !
My legal measures had protected me from having
statements or paragraphs forced into the paper against my
will and orders; and so far established me in the position
upon the faith in which I had entered into the concern: on
which Mr. Freeling writes, “I am sure you will use your
triumph mildly, and be merciful as you are strong.” But
the perpetual worry and annoyance, being in the same room
every day with such an adversary, and the discouragement
of a sinking instead of a rising “Sun,” at last determined
me to make good my retreat on the best terms I could.
Mr. Arbuthnot wrote to inquire “how the property of the
newspaper stood, and what proportion of it was bomá fide
my own ; ” the origin of which question is readily traced to
such mis-representations as Mr. Taylor dwelt upon regarding
my tyranny over his property ; and Mr. Freeling assures
THE “sun. ” FINALE. 157
me, “In the course of ten days I shall have the opportunity
of discussing the whole subject with C. A. and C. L. (Mr.
Charles Arbuthnot and Mr. C. Long). Write a handsome
letter directly to C. A.—Yours, F. FREELING.” I had
suggested an arrangement, which, if sanctioned, should have
been satisfactory to Mr. Taylor, and left the paper under
my conduct, respecting which the same kind and active
mediator says, “I have been so hampered by arrears of
business, that I have not had time to think of the proposal.
It is highly important ; I will devote half an hour on
Sunday.—Believe yours truly, F. FREELING.” Every
attempt at pacification was, however, unavailing ; and the
unceasing ravings and “false facts” of my partner (as
indicated in his letters to me in the preceding chapter)
grew, by repetition, so irksome, that I lived in a state of
great uneasiness as to the impression which unanswered
falsities might produce on persons and in places unknown
to me. In a few cases where I became aware of such
imputations, I took the trouble to meet them ; and the
annexed letter from Mr. Long will demonstrate the result,
which indeed was the same in every instance, as my con-
tinued intimacy and increasing friendships with all the
distinguished individuals whose names have been forced
into the account of this brawl, incontrovertibly proves.
Bored almost as much as I was with ceaseless clamours,
their conviction of their groundlessness only served to
augment the interest they took in my welfare, and my
escape from so trying a connexion. Thus Mr. Long :
“Bromley Hill.
“I assure you that as far as my good opinion is at
all worth your having, I have never seen anything of you
that does not fully entitle you to it; and that opinion could
I58 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
not be changed by the representation of any adverse party,
without my having the opportunity of knowing the points in
dispute between you.
“But I am particularly desirous to notice what you say
respecting Mr. Arbuthnot. I firmly believe you are under
a mistake respecting him ; at least, I can truly say that
upon those occasions on which I have heard him mention
you, nothing has fallen from him which could be construed
into the slightest prejudice against you ; and if it does exist,
I am persuaded it must have taken place since I last
mentioned you to him. Upon that occasion I transmitted
your letter to him, because it stated fully the grounds on
which you made the application, and because I was totally
ignorant of the sort of office you solicited ; but nothing
could be further from my intention than to bring into
question any other point.
“I lament the disputes which have taken place between
Mr. Taylor and yourself. I know no person more likely to
conciliate, if conciliation is practicable, than my kind friend
Mr. Freeling, because I know no man of a more just and
honourable mind.
“Believe me,
“Yours most faithfully,
% CHARLES LONG.”
From this letter I presume that in my anxiety to get out
of the “Sun '' into the shade, I had asked for some
appointment to light up the latter, in which I did not
succeed. At last, in the spring of 1817, the conflict was
brought to a conclusion. I was glad to sell my share for
300l., and had the world to begin again.
At the commencement of the year there was, as already
mentioned, no address to readers; for what could I truly say
THE “SUN” FINALE. 159
of such a wreck. But it rocked on its unquiet billows, to and
fro, with my unsteadied hand at the helm for four months
more ; when all negotiations being concluded, the disso.
lution of partnership was announced in the “Gazette” of
the 3rd of May. On the 1st, and several successive
days, the following announcement appeared over the
leading article:–
“May 1. The patrons of the ‘Sun' newspaper, the
public in general, and the friends of Mr. John Taylor, who
has been for nearly twenty-four years intimately connected
with that property, are hereby informed that it is now
solely in his possession, the late partnership having been
dissolved by mutual consent.”
And on the 5th, and following publications, after the
Gazetting, another advertisement was substituted, in which
Taylor referred to the “London Gazette" of Saturday for
the dissolution; and announced his having been “enrolled
as a member of the Pitt club, as a pledge for his upholding
the principles of the paper, founded under the auspices of
the illustrious Pitt.”
This last “dodge ’’ was Mr. Acheson's cajolery: alas ! .
poor misguided Taylor.
I do not mean to insist much upon the bearing of this
transaction on the question of literary liability to greater
losses than would attend similar ruinous disputes in other
walks of busy life and trade ; but quantum valeat, it does
appear to me that the breaking up of very few concerns,
in any other line of life, would prove so unfortunate to the
parties. To take a mere sop as an inducement to retire
from a competent annual provision is bad enough, but the
evil is aggravated by the particular pursuit of the sufferer.
A merchant, or a trader, can readily go from one counting-
house, or from one shop to another of the same kind, with
160 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
his share of business connexions to buoy him up; but the
author has neither counting-house nor shop to go to; he
has to find out some new channel where he can dispose of
his talents and wares, and these are by no means either
numerous or easily opened. It requires considerable time,
under the most favourable circumstances, to establish any
thing capable of offering a profitable return. There is
therefore a material difference between the classes: in the
one the staff is only partially affected ; in the other it has
altogether given way, and fallen into a slough out of which
it is often very difficult, if not impossible, to lift it again.
In my case fortunately the field was not far to seek,
though it was merely experimental and unproductive. The
“Literary Gazette ’’” presented a path into the green
pasture for which my soul yearned, after the turmoil of
politics, and the more incongenial troubles of personal
quarrelling. Then it was that the literary pursuits (which
I have been so erroneously charged with depreciating)
afforded me employment and solace which could hardly have
been derived from any other source. I took to them as a
Newfoundland dog takes to the pure and cooling water on a
sultry day; and I found in them the refreshment I so
greatly needed, the plunge and swim-like exercise so
delightful to the senses, and the invigoration of hopes and
prospects, the reverse of the vexations which had pestered
my existence, and the despondency which had clouded
my views during the last two years. With such con-
solations from literature at that period and ever since, I
should be an ungrateful defamer were I to utter a syllable
against it as a mental balm and source of pre-eminent
" * This new periodical had been quoted with approbation in the
“Sun ?” of February 14th, when I had no idea of ever being concerned
with it.
ALLAN CUNNINGHAM, 16]
enjoyment, although it is neither likely to bring affluence nor
even competence in its train.”
Let me not, however, quit the Sun-shine without a
momentary retrospect upon some of the habitual visitants,
who, during the stormy time, durst still occasionally venture
into hot Sun atmosphere. The philosophy of Proby cared
little for the outbreaks; but such individuals as Mr. Freeling,
. Mr. John Stuart, Dr. Croly, Mr. Robert Clarke, Mr.
Fladgate, Mr. John Kemble, Mr. Allan Cunningham, and
others, gradually refrained from their usual calls, and made
them very short when they did happen to drop in for a passing
how do ye, and a hasty retreat.
With Allan Cunningham I had been acquainted from his
advent to the capital, I think about 1810, and the first
poetry he published in London was under my auspices.
His signature of Hid-allan was both appropriate to his
name and poetical in sound ; but he had previously acquired
a provincial fame in his native Dumfries, where some curious
productions, covered with an incognito almost equal to
Chatterton's at Bristol, as well as some sweet specimens of
Scottish song, had settled the destiny of the worthy and
gifted stonemason for a literary life. Nature was bountiful
to Cunningham. He was a fine manly specimen of the
genus homo ; had a massive head, with a countenance
impressed with intelligence, and a softened air, fine and,
when not animated, rather melancholy eye, very rarely
found united to so much strength of character; and he was
what he looked, a combination of sound judgment, masculine
firmness, and that gentler nature in which the feeling of
simple and plaintive poetry was enthroned. His genius and
* To avoid surcharging this portion of my narrative with too much of
the “Sun" affairs, I have thrown some illustrative letters into the
Appendix. See E.
WOL. II. M
162 . AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
his literary labours, aided by an adjutancy to Sir Francis
Chantrey, to whom and to whose studio he was an invaluable
ally, happily sufficed for the wants of a comfortable, unaspiring
domesticity, and kept him above the severer trials, though
not some of the disappointments which usually attend the
class to which he pertained. The friendship of Walter Scott
and Mr. Lockhart also contributed much to this fortunate
result.
I remember the little piece to which I have alluded gave
rise to the exhibition of a laughable trait in my stalwart
countryman's disposition, and his sense of the dignity of the
independent muse. There occurred in it a grammatical
error, in which “that ” was used instead of “who,” or
something of equal note, but decidedly ungrammatical.
This I pointed out to Cunningham, and was proceeding to
correct it, when he snatched the paper out of my hand, with
“Na, na, I will allow nae man to alter ma poetry; be it
grammar or no grammar, it shall joost stand as it is ' ' and
stand it did. But more of honest Allan, and others I
have mentioned, anon.
John Kemble, glorious John, was to his intimates a
treasure, and though something of his sepulchral tone could
generally be distinguished in his convivial hours and con-
versation, he was off the stage as different from John
Kemble on the stage as it is possible to imagine. This is
seldom the case with eminent performers; but in him the
stately majesty of tragedy was left on the fall of the curtain,
and within half an hour after Richard had been himself
again, John Kemble, with some pleasant companions, was
also himself again He had a grand gusto for the society
he liked, and his enjoyment of it was contagious. Of many
memorable instances, I shall give two or three to exemplify
my reminiscences; premising that his fine classical culti-
JOHN KEMBLE. .* 163
vation and critical acumen rendered him as oracularly
instructive when in that vein as he was socially delightful
in his merrier moods.
What a word it is that I have so often to repeat in this
work—“I remember”—“I remember.” I remember John
Kemble in his happiest hours. I remember one night
being in the front seat of the stage-box at the theatre, and
witnessing his Coriolanus with that intense admiration
which fixed and transported me from beginning to end.
The next day, he happened to call, and I expressed to him
the delight I had received, adding, that frequently as I
had seen him in the character before, I had never thought
that he played it to such absolute perfection. “And I
will tell you the secret,” he responded. “I caught your
eye, on my entering the stage; I knew I had got you,
and I performed Coriolanus to you, as if quite insensible of
any other audience.” I observed, then, it was no wonder
he had fascinated me ; and he explained what I daresay
our greatest tragic actors would corroborate, namely, that
the performer was curiously sensible of the sympathies or
the negligences of his hearers, and that his temperament
was often so keen and excited, that the slightest symptom
of having failed in producing a desired effect, was enough
to damp his efforts for a whole evening; whilst, on the other
hand, a merely vague consciousness that he had fastened,
were it only one spectator to his chariot-wheels, imbued
him with a strong spirit to execute his task to the utmost
of his powers. According to this dramatic canon, we may
account for the marked difference, as far as excellence is
concerned, between the acting of the best artists on one
night and another.
In comic theatrical criticism, I remember no one superior
to Kemble. The description he gave me of his Reuben
M 2
164 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
Glenroy, in one scene a poor fellow in Wales, and the next
a millionaire on the Royal Exchange, without the public
discovering any discrepancy, was a rich and humorous treat,
enough to set the table in a roar. His remarks on the
Timon of Athens by a celebrated contemporary were no
less egregious and irresistibly laughable. But there was
always much fun and a spice of sarcastic humour in him
which those who never met him in private circles could
not imagine in the stern tragedian and noblest Roman of
them all.
To generous wine he was no enemy. I remember he
was one of a party of four made up by Mr. R. Clarke,
Mr. Taylor (I think, or Mr. Fladgate), and myself, who
hired a glass-coach to carry us to Hampstead, and dinner
with Mr. Freeling, who then resided there, on account of
the indifferent health of his lady. As might be anticipated,
we spent a most agreeable day, and were sorry when the
hour of departure (somewhat sooner than usual, on account
of the invalid) arrived. The carriage was at the door, we
had descended into the lobby, and hatted and cloaked our-
selves, and bid “good night " to Mr. Freeling, on the top
of the stairs, when we suddenly missed our companion. No
Kemble was forthcoming, and yet we waited a considerable
time, whilst the servants sought him “that night" as they
did the poor bride in the Old Oak Chest (so pathetically
sung by Mr. Lane, the charming lithographic artist), and
with no greater success. So, as we could not stop till “they
sought him next day,” we reluctantly gave him up, wondering
what could have happened to him, resigned him to his fate,
whatever it might be, and drove away. All the ensuing
forenoon we were full of surmises and speculations, and not
devoid of some uneasiness, now that the after dinner roseate
spirits had been slept upon, when our host favoured us at
JOHN KEMBLE. 165
the office with one of his customary calls. From him we
learnt that our great comrade was alive and well, and the
history of his disappearance was thus explained. When
Mr. Freeling returned for a moment to the dining-room we
had left, the lost Kemble stepped majestically forth from
behind the door, and exclaimed, “Frank, my boy, that
claret was too good for those fellows, and I have stopped
behind to enjoy a cool bottle with you ! ” The claret was
produced, the butler received conditional orders, and after
sipping a glass or two, Mr. Freeling stole off to the invalid
chamber, leaving his unobservant guest, who had got into a
brown study, to enjoy his reverie and cool claret together
as long as he liked. I am inclined to think he did not
“awake, arise,” in aught like a hurry. He stood the
consequent bantering with much good humour, and, in
return, pitied us for what we had missed.
I remember another still more entertaining expedition,
wherein the soul of his good fellowship shone forth in a still
more grotesque and amusing manner. We had a very
pleasant trip down the river in the Admiralty barge, on the
invitation and under the command of a fine old British
officer, Admiral Schank. The sail was delightful, and the
company assembled select, and well disposed to make the
most of so pleasurable an excursion. After touching our
farthest point, the prow was turned homewards, and we sat
down to a splendid feast, and not the less gracious from
discarding all ceremony and etiquette, and adopting the
joyous hilarity of the naval service. After this fashion, we
had not only toasts and speeches, but songs to enliven the
jovial scene ; and there is no denying the great fact, that
we were nearly all in the condition which sailors deno-
minate three sheets (or some phrase of that sort) in.
the wind.
166 AN, AUTOBIOGRAPIIY.
The jolly old Admiral kept up the ball with the liberality
of a Bacchus; and the effects of his near neighbourhood, in
proposing and passing bumpers, had told with certainty on
Kemble, who was so close beside him, that he could not
shirk the glass, if he had wished it. But the wines, like
Mr. Freeling's, were not of vintages to be disregarded ; and
as well as I can recollect, Mr. Kemble sung a song on the
occasion in a very creditable style, though not quite so well
as Braham or Incledon might have done it. But the
crowning whim was, that by the time we had drunk our
way, say from the Nore to off Greenwich, he had miscon-
ceived the Admiral, in his uniform and epaulettes, to be the
landlord of a capital tavern; and clapping him on the
shoulder, bid him never mind the disparity of rank or
condition, but when he came to London, he should be very
glad to see him in Great Russell Street. The invitation
was repeated more than once, amid roars of laughter from
the company, Kemble still clapping his fancied Boniface on
the back, and assuring him that he was one of the best
fellows he had ever sat down with, and that he should
indeed be exceedingly happy to see him at his own house.
I believe the parting toast was, “Merry days to honest
fellows,” and a merrier one than this it never was my good
luck to enjoy. -
Mr. Kemble took leave of the stage in Coriolanus, on the
23rd of June, 1817, and the event created the strongest
sensation I had ever witnessed, or thought it possible could
attend a dramatic incident, however interesting. The heat
of the weather was excessive, the house crammed; and
every passage that could be applied to himself and the
circumstances of the evening, was seized with ardour,
and most vehemently applauded. When Coriolanus has
to say—
JOHN KEMBLE, 167
As soon in battle
I would before thee fly, and howl for mercy,
As quit the station they’ve assigned me here,
the shouts were tremendous, and the cries, “No | No
Do not quit !” were repeated from a thousand throats.
His farewell was delivered in a most touching manner, and
reproduced in a few minutes, printed on white satin, and
handed, with a laurel crown, to Talma, who was in the
orchestra, to cast upon the stage, whence it was taken by
Fawcett, to present as a mark of public respect to
Mr. Kemble. It was altogether a memorable and affecting
SCéIle.
His Essay on the characters of Macbeth and Richard III.,
in reply to Whately and Steevens (published the same week),
proved him to be as fine a critic of the tragic in Shakspeare,
as I have described him to be humorous in his comic
remarks upon other dramas.
On the 27th, a farewell dinner was given to him at Free-
mason's Tavern, when Lord Holland took the chair,
surrounded by numbers of the nobility, and nearly all the
eminent poets, artists, and literary men of the metropolis.
A splendid vase was presented to him, and an Ode by
Campbell performed. Talma spoke.
Talma, soon after his return to Paris, where the play-
goers were angry at his long absence, performed “Corio-
lanus” at the Théâtre Français; and when he came to
the line
Adieu, Rome ; je pars—
a sharp voice called out from the parterre,
Pour les départements—
which set the house in a roar (as much as a French
168 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
audience can be made to laugh), and reconciled the
opposition.
I am told, by the by, that in America there is almost, at
least in some parts of the Union, a similar fastidiousness
and aversion to the outward and visible sign of being much
entertained. It is told of one of our most comic actors, on
his American tour, that he considered it the highest com-
pliment paid to him in the country, when, one night after
his performance, a representative of this class addressed
him with, “Well, stranger, I guess you had almost made
me laugh at some of your nonsense.”
Having mentioned Sir James Macintosh also, in a pre-
ceding page, I will take the opportunity of this retrospective
glance to place on record a floating, and hitherto imperfectly
told, anecdote relating to him.
About the time of the trial of O'Quigley, who was hanged
at Maidstone, for treason, in 1798, some articles appeared
in the “Morning Chronicle,” apparently reflecting on Fox.
Dr. Parr read them, and was much displeased. He attri-
buted them to Macintosh (not then Sir James) because
they contained some literary criticism or remark which Parr
thought he had communicated to Macintosh exclusively; in
point of fact, he was wrong, as it turned out in the sequel
that Macintosh had nothing to do with them ; but while in
the state of wrath which his belief that Macintosh was the
author occasioned, he (Dr. Parr) and Macintosh dined
together at the table of Sir William Milner, in Manchester
Street, Manchester Square. In the course of conversation,
after dinner, Macintosh observed, that “ O'Quigley was one
of the greatest villains that ever was hanged.” Dr. Parr
had been watching for an opening, and immediately said,
“No, Jemmy bad as he was, he might have been a great
deal worse. He was an Irishman ; he might have been a
SIR. JAMES MACINTOSH. 169
Scotchman He was a priest ; he might have been a
lawyer | He stuck to his principles—(giving a violent rap
on the table)—he might have betrayed them ''
The made-up addition to this philippic, living only “on
the lip,” has converted the third branch into, “He was a
turncoat ; he might have been a traitor | " Or, “He was a
traitor: he might have been an apostate.”
About this time Parr, who was in constant correspondence
with the publisher, Mr. Mawman, who was present, and from
whom this accurate version of a remarkable anecdote, so
much valued for its sarcastic force, as unsurpassed in
language, is recorded, said, “I do not like Macintosh ; he
is a Scotch dog. I hate Scotch dogs; they prowl like
lurchers, they fawn like spaniels, they thieve like grey-
hounds; they're sad dogs, and they're mangy into the
bargain, and they stink like pugs.”
It is a curious comment upon this national charge (and
would have delighted Parr beyond measure to know), that
Macintosh's paramount enjoyment of a hot summer day was
to lie on a sofa (in Cadogan Place, as I recollect in his
latter years), and, almost in a state of Indian nudity, be
manipulated from head to heel with the flesh-brush. A good
new novel, to read while the operation was going on, made
the luxury complete.
Having thus corrected the story of this venerable literary
collision from the genuine source, I will conclude the miscel-
laneous portion of this chapter with a correction I have
received myself, relating to an anecdote in my preceding
volume, the addenda to which are so happily in tone with
the humorous recollections I have endeavoured to sprinkle
over my work by way of relief, that I copy the whole with
a pleasure that I trust my readers will share with me. For,
indeed, telling the jokes of past times, I find, involves a
170 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
more serious responsibility than I was aware of ; and I feel
I must be on my guard in respect to dates and names,
birth, parentage, education, and other memorabilia of the
parties mentioned. Thus, whilst vouching for the true
reading of the Macintosh onslaught, I have to cry peccavi
(or, as a late worthy and eminent publisher used to pro-
nounce it, pessavy”) to the inaccuracy which led to the
following reproof:—
“MY DEAR JERDAN,
“It is astonishing how unjust the world is ;
your story of Basil Montague and Jekyl is an instance of
it : Jekyl no more made the joke than you did ; it was
made by Serjeant Lawes (Vitruvius), but long before he
was a Serjeant. He was a busy pleader, an active junior
in great business, a rival of Marryatt; withal a pleasant and
facetious man, who said agreeable things and always had
a smiling face. The solitary joke that has survived him
you (and perhaps others) transfer without scruple to Jekyl,
as if nobody was equal to any labour but Hercules. This
is great injustice, just like the story of Canning's statue,
which gave rise to a good thing of Curwood's ; but it did
not remain with him, but was put to the account of Rose,
Thessiger, or some more accredited wit. Curwood was a
little senior to David Pollock, of whom you speak, the
ugliest man in London. He had a glass eye, which is
connected with stories innumerable. He is supposed to be
the only man that ever was churched (rather a comical story).
He had been appointed Recorder of Maidstone, and
* The same learned Theban, looking out from Charles Heath's balcony,
in the New Road, before the dinner was announced, expressed his admira-
tion of the opposite church, in consequence of the beautiful Cantharides
(caryatides) employed in the architecture.
MR. CURWOOD. 171
understood he must attend church and get a certificate of his
having taken the Sacrament ; so to church he went, and,
having staid through the ceremony, he asked an official for
the certificate, who informed him that what he had wit-
nessed was not the Communion, but the Churching of
Women When he married, he concealed his transparent
eye from his wife, who found it out on dining one day at a
friend's, whose wife was an embodiment of indiscretion,
and, somehow, blurted it out that Curwood had a glass eye
Mrs. C. stoutly denied it; the lady as stoutly affirmed it ;
Mrs. C. quarrelled with her, and went home to ascertain the
truth—quarrelled with her husband for deceiving her,
which made him go and quarrel with his friend for not
keeping his wife's tongue in order ; but there the quarrel-
ling ended, for that dear friend (both yours and mine)
quarrelled with nobody, and, in spite of all her faults and
absurdities, loved his wife as if she really had been made
of one of his ribs; but I shall never get to Curwood's joke
if I go on thus. Soon after Canning's statue was put up
in Palace Yard, in all its verdant freshness, the carbonate
of copper not yet blackened by the smoke of London,
Justice Gazelee, (better known as Starelee, who tried the
cause of Bardwell v. Pickwick), was walking away from
Westminster Hall with Curwood, when the judge, looking
at the statue (the size of which is heroic, if not colossal,)
said : ‘I don't think that is very like Canning ; he was
not so large a man.’ ‘No, my lord,” said Curwood ; “nor
so green.” In like manner, the only joke I ever made was
not ascribed to me, though it was not good enough to
ascribe to any one else. I was one day in Gray's Inn Hall,
where, in Vacation, the Court of Exchequer sat in Equity,
and Chief Baron Richards was hearing causes in one corner,
the rest of the Hall occupied by loungers and waiters on the
172 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
cause-paper; an attorney came to me, and, pointing to
Chief Baron Richards, said: “Pray, sir, is that Baron
Wood 2" ‘Yes, sir,’ said I, “but his NAME is Richards.’
Two days after, Denman told me my own mot as the good
saying of some anonymous barrister of Gray's Inn.”
My friend's epistle recalls, as Old Men's Tales generally
do, other facetiae connected with Mr. Curwood, with whom
I lived on terms of friendly intimacy to the end of his life,
and who was both an acute and able lawyer, much esteemed
by the Bar, though exposed to jest from a sort of insigni-
ficance in appearance and manner. Mr. Fladgate, the
solicitor in Essex-street, was one of the Sydney Smith
species of wits (who are so rare), and was so prolific in
piquant sayings, that, if all were remembered, they might
fill a volume. When Elliston was in treaty to become the
lessee of Drury Lane theatre, he gave way to more than his
usual excitements, and consulting his legal adviser at all
hours in no very proper state, Fladgate exclaimed to him,
“Hang it, sir, there is no getting through any business
with you, who come to me fresh drunk every night, and
stale drunk every morning.” Elliston, like Elia Lamb,
was easily affected by wine.—But to Curwood. One day,
at the dinner-table, a troublesome blue-bottle fly kept
buzzing about and alighting on the meats, apparently more
attracted to Curwood's plate than to any other; provoked
by this, at last he started up, and, with napkin in hand,
pursued the offender to the window and round the room,
slashing away at it right and left. There was a call to sit
down again and be still, as the chase was disturbing us all ;
when Fladgate quietly observed, “0, for Heaven's sake let
them alone ! I want to see which will beat l” On another
occasion, Curwood called upon him on a Sunday forenoon
MR. FLADGATE. 173
to propose a walk, and, according to the fashion of the time,
when not in professional costume, was drest in a blue coat
with bright gilt buttons, and all the rest of his attire, to the
very stockings, of bright yellow. The moment he entered,
Fladgate jumped from his seat, and pointing to a canary
breeding-cage belonging to one of his children, cried, “By
Jove, the canary has hatched one of her eggs without our
having noticed it !” His were seldom or never puns, but
savoured always of the neatness of French touch and allusion.
174 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
CHAPTER XIV.
— —
THE “LITERARY GAZETTE.”
I’ve often wish'd that I could write a book,
Such as all English people might peruse ;
I never should regret the pains it took ;-
That’s just the sort of fame that I should choose.
WhistLECRAFT.
ARRIVED, at length, upon my own green ground, I feel
more at home with my readers, and more safe in addressing
them in that familiar style which I was soon encouraged to
adopt by the favour shown to my writings, and which
generated the friendly intercourse between me and the
public which lasted more than thirty years. In fact, the
dignity and stilts of authorship never suited me. If I tried
to write grand or fine I was sure to fail; and therefore I
was obliged to rely on the colloquial and unstudied, as
much from heart as head, and I have reason to think
generally acknowledged as a natural consequence, to possess
the useful qualities of clearness and obvious intelligibility.
On the rumour of this arrangement I received the following
note from my ever kind friend Mr. Freeling:—
“General Post Office, Friday.
“My DEAR SIR,-
“I only received your note late yesterday after-
noon. I am sorry to say that a plate engraved on a
THE “LITERARY GAZETTE.” 175
separate page would make the “Literary Gazette' liable to
postage. If the page were stamped it would go free, or if
the etchings were embodied in the stamped sheet.
“I was vexed that I missed you when you called, as I
should have been very glad to have shaken you by the
hand, and to have heard (what I sincerely hope is the case)
that you have found some pursuit congenial to your wishes,
and advantageous to yourself, unaccompanied with those
spots which dimmed the ‘Sun.’
“Yours very truly,
66
“W. JERDAN, Esq.” F. FREELING.
The “Literary Gazette” was commenced on the 25th of
January, 1817, by Mr. Colburn, and to his enterprise and
example in this instance, the country and its literature are
indebted not only for the entire class of direct imitations
which have sprung out of this experiment, but for the
introduction, more or less, into all other journals, of the
topics now for the first time brought forward and discussed
by the periodical press. It was printed in two columns,
sixteen pages, by A. J. Valpy, published by Colburn, 159,
Strand, and the price one shilling. The plan embraced
Original Correspondence, foreign and domestic ; Critical
Analyses of New Publications; Varieties on all subjects
connected with Polite Literature, such as Discoveries and
Improvements, Philosophical Researches, Scientific Inven-
tions, Sketches of Society, Proceedings of Public Bodies;
Biographical Memoirs of distinguished persons; Original
Letters and Anecdotes of remarkable personages; Essays
and Critiques on the Fine Arts; and Miscellaneous Articles
on the Drama, Music, and Literary Intelligence: so as to
form, at the end of the year, a clear and instructive picture
176 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
of the moral and literary improvement of the times, and a
complete and authentic Chronological Literary Record for
general reference.
The design was novel and unquestionably meritorious;
the Prince Regent was the first subscriber,” and success
seemed to depend upon the execution. The early numbers,
to which William Carey was the chief contributor, con-
tained the plan of the Abbé Gregoire, ex-Bishop of Blois,
for the general association of learned and scientific men and
artists of all nations for accelerating the enlightenment of
mankind—a consummation a thousand times desired and
proposed, but never yet systematised or effected. There
were also some original letters of David Hume, followed, a
number of years later, with some interesting correspondence
of that eminent historian. At this period the dramatic
world was illuminated by the Kembles, Siddons, Young,
O'Neil, Kean, Braham, Pasta, Fodor, Camporese, Naldi,
Ambrogetti, and other brilliant stars. Haydon produced
his grand picture of Christ riding into Jerusalem, and other
artists as well as he were copying the cartoons. Brockedon
made his favourable débùt with the “Judgment of Daniel,”
and inter alia, Mr. Pettigrew published his Life of Dr. I.
Lettsom, of whom it was written as a prescription,-
If any patient comes to I,
I physics, bleeds, and sweats 'em ;
If, after that, they chance to die,
What’s that to I?—I. LETTsom.
At this period the satirical novel called “Six Weeks at
Long's,” in the doing of which, as formerly stated, I had a
hand with Michael Nugent, (a few years before a fellow-
* A complete set, in beautiful condition, and with a few complimentary
annotations, was sold among the library of the late Princess Sophia.
THE “LITERARY GAZETTE.” 177
reporter with me, and a clever fellow to boot, though he
never could emerge from that drudgery,) was published.
The matériel was furnished by a military officer, I think,
who paid us for our literary assistance, which, as far as I
can remember, was not of the foremost character. Lady
Caroline Lamb’s “Glenarvon” ran away with the notorious
popularity of that date; but our production was bepraised in
the “Literary Gazette,” No. 5, as a caustic portraiture of
“noble profligates and honourable dupes,” from which I
now infer that it was a personal satire of an order never
tolerated by me as a critic, in which Byron, Beau Brum-
mell, Lord Yarmouth (afterwards Hertford), and other living
notorieties, were pilloried. I am afraid I had little excuse
at the time, except such as the starved apothecary offered to
Romeo when he sold him the poison—“My poverty but not
my will consents.”
On the appearance of its tenth number, the “Literary
Gazette” changed its form into three columns on the
page, which it continued till the close of my editing. It
also gave brief notices of parliamentary proceedings and
remarks on politics. At the twenty-fifth number appeared
my first contribution, a critique on “Zuma, ou la Découverte
de Quinquina,” by Madame de Genlis; and on the following
week I became the editor. It was a stirring time, and in litera-
ture, as in many other relations, exhibited a very marked
difference from the aspects of the present day; the Crystal
Palace excitement excepted. Within a few preceding weeks,
Moore's “Lalla Rookh,” Byron’s “Manfred,” Croly’s “Paris
in 1815,” Lewis's “Adelgitha,” Miss Edgworth’s “Patron-
age,” and Jane Porter's “Pastor's Fireside,” were published;
Shiel's “Apostate,” and Maturin’s “Manuel,” to succeed his
“Bertram,” performed ; Talfourd began his literary career
with a law book; Waterloo Bridge was finished and opened
WOL. II. N
178 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
with a grand ceremony; Spurzheim introduced Gall's system
of phrenology to London; the first pretensions of mesmerism
were advanced, so that Mentz, with its Doctor Renard, might
contest the palm of priority as it has done with regard to a
nobler art ; lithography was imported and made public,
though “Sennefelder, the wretched singer of Munich,” had
invented it above a dozen years before ;* my esteemed con-
temporary, “Blackwood's Magazine,” started ; in short, it
was a busy world, my masters, and I was glad enough to
be also up and among the “stirring.”
The publication had not made great way, though, besides
its original features, most of them well-chosen or treated,
there were some exceedingly clever criticisms on Scott,
Byron, Campbell, Southey, Coleridge, and other living
poets, by a correspondent of no mean discrimination and
talent ; but, without boast, my accession seemed. to put a
little heart into it, and if it were up-hill work for a long
while, still it was Up, and but for a few incidental or
accidental crosses, would have been Up-per. I found the
laborious Lloyd, of the Foreign Post Office, a diligent col-
lector and translator of continental intelligence, Professor
Boettiger, and (soon after) other German scholars, valuable
correspondents; Miss Ross (a daughter of William Ross,
an early newspaper reporter, a tremendous democrat in
the Corresponding Society, and withal a very worthy
man,) another ready and excellent translator ; and the
machinery altogether, for so young a concern, in very fair
order.
I consulted my friend Mr. Canning, who thought well of
the project and said, “Avoid politics and polemics,” an
* It was first exemplified in England about the beginning of the century,
by a Mr. Andrée of Offenbach, in its rude state; but had slept till now,
when Mr. Ackermann took it up, and showed of what it was capable.
THE “LITERARY GAZETTE.” 179
advice which I not only observed throughout my career,
but also derived another signal benefit from having had the
temerity to consult such a counsellor, and which arose from
this—that whenever I was disposed or likely to write any-
thing doubtful, I thought, what would Mr. Canning's opinion
be 2 and in short, as Kemble had acted Coriolanus to me, I
edited the “Literary Gazette” to him.
In my capacity I was omnivorous—at all in the ring—
and produced hebdomadally, Reviews, Criticisms on the Arts
and Drama, jewa d'esprit in prose and in verse ; and in
truth, played every part, as Bottom, the weaver, wished to
do ; and it might be only from the good luck of having,
in reality, several able coadjutors (though I announced
publicly I had them), that the paper did not sink under my
manning, in addition to my pilotage.
With my taking this leading part, the publication was
removed to No. 267, in the Strand, now a cook-shop,
affronting the vestibule of St. Clement's Church, the
monotonous chimes of which made me so often so dull and
melancholy that I could almost have put the rope about my
neck to suspend the want of animation. This had been my
own house, bought, together with the copyright of the
Satirist, published there, and as queer a bargain as any
which literary folks are in the habit of making. Mr. Manners,
a gentleman of truth and honour, sold me the concern, as
the saying is, “in a lump,” I was apprised of the state of the
publication, and assured of the “sponsible " character of
the sub-tenants, videlicet an agent for a newly-discovered rich
metallic mine in Cornwall (neither companies nor metals
so rife then), having beautiful specimens of the ore to
display in the window below ; and on the first floor a most
respectable and honest-looking mantua-maker of the middle
(or it might literally be first floor), age, with five or six
N 2
180 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
smart young Mantuas or sempstresses in her employment.
Neither party, however, turned up trumps; and apropos to
crown the business, I had the rascally old publisher,
Williams, who betrayed the office in the Mary Ann Clarke
affair, and swindled me afterwards, located in the apart-
ments nearest heaven. No farce could surpass the drollery
of my going in person to collect my rents. The man of ore
was always expecting a rich remittance of “the precious,”
from the mine ; and up stairs, Madame and the lasses
laughed at me to my face. Times was hard, and they
wished I might get it. They would do anything to oblige
me, but they could not pay. Corsets were down, and
flounces were up ; and the trade so bad that really they
could hardly live, and sure they were that so kind a gen-
tleman would not press upon them They liked their
landlord—were so delighted with his writings—thought him
one of the best and cleverest creatures in London—and
hoped, of course, he would not trouble their quarters on
quarter-day. And so the occupancy went on for a year or
more, till all at once my “first floor ’’ and all her tender
chickens flew and disappeared ; and shortly after, having
thereupon spoken angrily to my man of metal, he proved
to me that he was so ; for one morning I received a very
heavy letter, which I poised and puzzled about for several
minutes before I opened it, imagining all possible impossi-
bilities as to what it could contain, when lo, on breaking the
seals, I found the street-door-key of No. 267, with a very
polite letter hoping that I would consider the writer had
behaved handsomely in taking care not to give me any
trouble before quitting my premises.
The future history of my house-owning was not much out
of keeping. I sold it for what I gave, to Mr. Pinnock,
taking bills for the purchase money, of and on the Newbury
THE “LITERARY GAZETTE.” 181
Bank. Before they were due, the bank was robbed and
failed, and a considerable time elapsed before Mr. Pinnock,
with great integrity, could repay my loss. This he honour-
ably did, and I conveyed the “Literary Gazette,” for
their publications, to the famed catechism-bookselling-shop
of Pinnock and Maunder. Pinnock, at that period, was a
Sound, good man, with certain indications of that restless
and speculative mania, which ultimately made a wreck of
him. Maunder was always steady, able, and most estimable;
and kept his brother-in-law somewhat in check; but the
spirit was too powerful to be quite put down, and at last it
got the upper hand and destroyed an individual who had
conferred not only useful but incalculable benefits upon the
rising generation, and all who have to follow them.
Pinnock's catechisms and abridged histories were immense
improvements upon preceding educational elements of a
similar kind, and their success might have satisfied any
ordinary or even very sanguine mind. But Pinnock's mind
was not formed to be satisfied. The more his publications
profited him (and they realised several thousand pounds a
year), the more he yearned to try something else. And so,
for example, in one fit for making a fortune by a single
stroke, he went into the docks and markets, and purchased
all the veneer wood which he could obtain, and set out in
the piano-forte manufacturing, “seeing as how no other ”
musical instrument maker in London could produce “the
article '' without paying “the price ’’ to the person who
had nearly all the veneering under his thumb. This is not
an embellishment; it is a sad literal truth, and went far to
the ruin of the ingenious contriver of so ludicrous a monopoly.
The passion grew upon him, till he was lost. There was no end
of schemes; no end of failures; and not even the honest and
worthy and excellent Maunder could avert the catastrophe.
182 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
But at the time of which I am speaking, matters were
all in order; and Pinnock's and Maunder's connection with
Education, and travelling throughout the country, rendered
them very eligible allies for the new paper. Either at first,
or immediately after, they were admitted as co-partners
with Mr. Colburn and myself, and the circulation reaped a
benefit from their provincial agencies and general co-opera-
tion. One evil infected the arrangement; the accounts
were irregular, partly from the nature of the pushing steps
which were taken, and partly from the character of Pinnock,
who had no idea of details. This led to a dissolution in
about three years. But I will not anticipate.
In No. 28 of the “Literary Gazette,” my third number,
I wrote a review of Beloe's “Sexagenarian, or, Recollections
of a Literary Life,” on which looking back I feel strangely
admonished and affected. Beloe framed his autobiography
in the third person, in order to avoid egotism ; and made
the supposition that after his death, the imagined friend had
found and put the materials together. He died in the
midst of his task ; and what he had invented as an imagi-
nation was realised. His plan was prophetic, and his death-
bed its fulfilment. A friend completed his memoirs; and
his life, chequered by various prosperous and unfortunate
events, was finished by another hand. The postscript says:
“He was suddenly called from an existence of much pain
and suffering. In the paths of literature his exertions had
been attended with the most gratifying success. He had
moved in the first circles of life ; he had been fostered by
the great, and rewarded by the good. As a friend he was
respected and beloved ; among his acquaintance, indeed, his
good humour was proverbial. His open and generous
nature was too often a dupe to the treacherous, and a prey
to the designing. His latter days were spent in retirement
THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 183
from those busy scenes in which he had formerly borne a
conspicuous part. In the last two years of his life he
amused himself with the composition of these Memoirs,
which display an extensive knowledge of the events and
characters of a former day. Many of the personages there
described, like the hand which records them, are now in the
dust, and have left only their names and their memories
behind.” In remarking upon this text, I wrote—“Such
was the plan and such the fate of poor Beloe, the Sexage-
narian | Should the writer of this article ever have to
record similar occurrences, at a similar period of life, it
would be one of his earliest recollections that he had more
than once met in society where the conversational talents
to which so just a tribute is here paid, were exerted to the
delight and information of the social circle ! ”
My friend William Mudford’s “Historical Account of the
Battle of Waterloo,” with splendid illustrations by Mr. James
Rouse, was published at this time ; but its cost, six guineas,
operated against its popularity. The Duke declined fur-
nishing any information, but in a note, I think, stated that
he had never met Blucher at La Belle Alliance, though
some wiseacres, presuming on the truth of that report, had
gone so far as to impose the name on the battle, instead of
Waterloo, where it was fought. On a later occasion, indeed,
many years after, I had an opportunity of learning some
more of his Grace's remarks connected with this glorious
day. It was mooted whether the action to be imparted to
his statue should not represent the moment when his cry
“Up boys' and at 'em ” roused his troops to their last irre-
sistible and victorious charge. “‘Up boys' and at em l’
replied the Duke, “I never could have said any such thing.
I remember very well that I caused them to lie down for
shelter behind a rising ground, and by that means saved
184 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
many of their lives; but up boys' and at 'em l’ is all
nonsense.”
At the same interview he mentioned that he was aware
of the Prussian advance, and of their foremost light troops
having got into communication with the farthest outposts of
his left wing, long before he announced the fact to his
staff. This was in answer to a reminiscence of Lord Hill,
that the illustrious commander had alighted from his horse,
and was reconnoitering through his glass laid across its
shoulder, the distant quarter where the Prussians were
expected to appear when the clock of the Hougemont struck
twelve. The Duke seemed to fancy the statement a little
at variance with what he had expressed, and replied, as
above, that he was quite aware of the fact long before he
mentioned it.
His Grace's off-handedness, and blunt as well as quaint
modes of expressing himself, are very characteristic ; and
many an anecdote might be told of them. Entering a
gallery where the visitors were requested to sign their
names, in a book prepared for the purpose, on being asked
by the doorkeeper, “Would your Grace have the goodness
to put your name in the book 3 '' he took the pen and wrote
“Dr. Wellesley.” He does not seem to be prone to furnish
autographs, nor to be seen disturbed or in dishabille, if the
following be true, as I had from a likely authority. One of
his brother marshals called at Apsley House on a day when
he was confined to his room by a cold, and had given orders
to be denied. The visitor, however, told the servant that he
came on some particular business, and he was sure the Duke
would see him . The groom could not gainsay so important
a personage, but went upstairs to deliver the message,
closely followed by the gallant officer. On opening the
chamber door the Duke was seen with his back to it, and
MR. CANNING. 185
leaning towards the fire. Without turning round, he
inquired what was wanted, and the servant answered that
Marshal had called and wished to see him. “What
does the old fool want ?” exclaimed his Grace ; and
the “old fool” being quite close behind him, slunk quietly
off, and delivered no message that day !
One of my extra little literary matters near this period was
to take notes of Mr. Canning's famous Lisbon speech, from
which that splendid oration was published. Although his
corrections were manifold, and curiously fastidious, I never-
theless received the following kindly acknowledgment of
my slight service:–
“India Board, 15th July, 1817.
“DEAR SIR,
“One of the first subjects that occurred to Mr.
Canning’s recollection upon the cessation of the laborious
and unintermitting business of the session, was his omission
to acknowledge the report of his Lisbon speech, for which
he is indebted to you. Can you make it convenient to call
at Gloucester Lodge some morning (not Thursday next)
before or about eleven o'clock, upon that subject 2
“In the mean time I send to you by his direction a few
copies of the publication which owes so much to your
valuable notes.
“Yours, my dear sir,
“Very truly,
* J. BACKHOUSE.”
186 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
CHAPTER, XW.
-—Q—
“LITERARY GAZETTE ". TO THE CLOSE OF 1817.
A spotless leaf; but thought, and care,
And friends, and foes—in foul and fair—
Have “written strange defeature * there.
And Time, with heaviest hand of all—
Like that fierce writing on the wall—
Has stamp'd sad dates he can't recall.
T)isjointed members—sense unknit—
Huge reams of letters—shreds of wit—
Compose the mingled mass of it.—CHARLEs LAMB.
In my thirtieth number a manuscript narrative of Captain
Tuckey's voyage to the Congo, which had been procured
for me by a friend, at no very great cost, was begun, and
turned out one of those incidents in newspaper progress
which give them an upward tendency in a ratio tº at can
hardly be accounted for. Their rapid rise from such auses
is often inexplicable ; their decline is generally a slower
process. The “Sun" and “Courier’’ were nearly equal
in repute and circulation when the treason and execution of
Colonel Despard occurred. The “Courier" made a striking
effort to get all the particulars, and publish the earliest account
of every circumstance to the very death ; and from that date
it rose in circulation, at the expense of the “Sun,” which
declined. In all respects the journals were comparatively
the same as before ; but the public impulse was given, and
THE “LITERARY GAZETTE.” 187
there was no use in trying to stem it, unless another chance
might occur to turn the tide by a similar fortunate exertion.
On the return of Parry's Arctic expedition, I had the privi-
lege of boarding the ships as they came up the river,
collected all the intelligence I could, and on the Saturday,
(by tremendous labour, extending over sixty hours without
sleep,) I presented the public with a good account of the
voyage, about which “all the world’’ was so interested.
The sale of the Gazette was lifted above five hundred by
that effort, which, please to observe, in these piping times
of shilling sheets, was equal to about a thousand pounds
a year, besides the upward hoist and improved expectances.
I have known the success or failure of many publications
depend upon what one would think trivial matters of this
kind; therefore I would say that the “wide-awake ’’ prin-
ciple and system is absolutely essential to journalist pros-
perity. Sleeping will not do.
My publication of the Congo narrative was, however,
attended by some—I would say, to me—rather distressing
than merely annoying consequences. It led to an angry
misunderstanding between me and Sir John Barrow, for
whom my regard and respect was always of a high order.
He supposed that the Admiralty orders against making
public the particulars of a Government expedition, were
violated by some officer who was in duty bound by them ;
and his resentment was warm. He suspected one individual,
and pointed his ire against him and his claims, which merged
in a widow and children, for he fell a victim to the climate. At
the time, I was utterly ignorant of the original source of my
information, and indignant at its publication affecting the
interests of any supposed informant ; and thus Sir John
Barrow and I had a hearty quarrel. Ultimately I discovered
that the Secretary of the Admiralty was wrong in his
188 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
suspicion, and I informed him of the fact, which put
matters right and absolved the presumed offender. Our
agreement was adjusted, but, for a while, we were not so
cordial as before, as, in truth, the “Literary Gazette ’’
numbers injuriously anticipated the novelty of one of
Murray's customary quartos, and was resented accordingly.
But time restored the friendly relations between Barrow
and me ; and few, out of the circle of his own near relatives,
admired or regretted him more than I did when he was
taken away in the fulness of years and honourable and
well-earned public estimation. My informant turned out
to be an inferior captain's or purser's clerk, who had
nothing—not even an implied assent—to restrain him
within the rules of the service.
My commencement with the “Gazette ’’ was also much
and effectually aided by the powerful contributions of my
friends Dr. Croly, Mr. Richard Dagley, and Mr. William
Carey, a man of great judgment in the Fine Arts and an
able writer. Mr. Dagley was an artist, whose information
and taste in all that regarded the Arts, as well as his
general talents, poetic fancies, and playful humour, were
devoted to my work till the day of his death ; for many
years in conjunction with Walter Henry Watts,” and of
both of whom I shall have much to say as I proceed. Of
the value of the co-operation of an author so distinguished
as Dr. Croly—happily continued to me during a long
period of intimate intercourse, as occasion offered—I
need not speak ; and of a similar nature was the
assistance I derived from Mr. Carey, from whom the
* The first volume of the Annual, Biography, and Obituary, by
Mr. Watts, was published by Messrs. Longman this year, and the work
was long continued by his able and honest pen. His other publications on
the Arts, &c., were all equally honourable to his heart and head.
THE “LITERARY GAZETTE * AND FINE ARTs. 189
two following letters illustrate the spirit of our earliest
connection :-
“Sunday, 7th Sept., 1817.
“DEAR SIR,
“I was favoured with your obliging note, and you
will perceive that we must be governed in the arrangement
of the memoir by the circumstance of my receiving or not
receiving Sir R. C. H.’s (Sir Richard Colt Hoare's) pro-
mised communication on or before Wednesday's post. Not
having his details, I have proceeded upon the skeleton that
I obtained from the brother artists of W.,” which merely
fixes some dates, and ascertains the general course of his
studies in Italy, and subsequent career in England. I have
thrown in the critical remarks on the schools (an imitation of
which has been injurious to our school) in the place where
they naturally arise—that is, in the notice of Mr. W.'s
studies in Rome and Venice, where Paul Veronese lived and
painted. This was not even a matter of choice, but of
necessity, for by this arrangement I will be able to furnish
the first part, with much interest, on Wednesday next, at
twelve o'clock, even if disappointed of Sir R. C. H.’s
expected communication. And as I may certainly depend
upon his promised letter in time for the second part, I shall
be able to embody a few leading facts in the conclusion, to
his satisfaction and our own.
“If this arrangement does not meet your views, pray be
so good as to let me know, and, as mere forms are inessen-
tial compared with the matter, I shall, with pleasure, mould
the matter into the form most likely to meet your interests.
I shall, by to-morrow night, be able to let you know the
* Samuel Woodforde, Esq., R.A.
190 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
precise length, or somewhat near it, of the first part, as I
shall by that time have it thrown into form.
“I am, dear sir,
“Yours very truly,
“ W. CAREY.”
“35, Mary-la-bonne Street, Piccadilly, 21st Sept., 1817.
“DEAR SIR,
“A week of excessive hurry will, I hope, plead my
apology for not having thanked you for your kind and
obliging note before. I now avail myself of a respite from
business to express my sense of the polite and frank terms
in which it was couched, with sincere gratification and
acknowledgment.
“The unceasing civilities of Mr. Colburn have rendered
my communications with the ‘Literary Gazette very
pleasant from its first commencement. If any circumstance
could have added to my satisfaction in that connection, it
was the fortunate co-operation of a gentleman so capable
of promoting the interests of that journal, and of appre-
ciating the labours of its literary correspondents.
“I was at Drury Lane last night, and sate out three
acts of Stanley's ‘Rover !’ Alas, poor Drury !
“I am, dear sir,
“Your respectful and obliged servant,
“WM. CAREY.”
And even within my first few months my pages were
enriched by the productions of Crabbe, Miss Mitford, Neale,
Gaspey, Mrs. Rolls, Howard, R.A., Wilkins, architect, and
others, whose writings in verse and prose largely helped to
stamp a sterling and popular character upon the publication,
THE “LITERARY GAZETTE” AND FINE ARTs. 191
and establish it in growing esteem. It was especially
strong in treating of the Fine Arts, which had hitherto been
so strangely neglected by the Press, and a love for which
prompted me to use my every effort to procure their
competent and ample illustration. The date of the following
note, besides tickets to attend and report the Academy
lectures, will show how soon these efforts were begun :—
“Newman Street, 10th October, 1817.
“SIR,
“I am just returned to town, and have found
your note of the 29th ult. It will give me great pleasure
if I can in any way promote the objects had in view by the
proprietors of the “Literary Gazette.’ A work of that
kind, conducted with the ability and candour which I believe
the editor to possess, can hardly fail of exciting an extensive
interest, and of acting as a beneficial alterative on the
public taste.
“If, at your leisure, you will do me the favour of calling
here any morning, a few minutes’ conversation will enable
us to judge better how far it will be in my power to
assist you.
“I remain, sir,
“Your obliged, humble servant,
** HY. HOWARD.”
It was in the same way, as will appear in the sequel,
that I gradually succeeded in opening up the previously
closed sources of intelligence in the various walks of litera-
ture and science; and obtained for the public ready
access to that intelligence so common now, but which, up
to the time of the “Literary Gazette,” had either been
unsought or inaccessible. My personal acquaintance with
the leading men of the period, and, I may add, my own
192 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
standing and estimation in the world, were the means of
obtaining such facilities for the regular dissemination of
every species of useful and entertaining knowledge congenial
to the design of my journal as had never before been
attempted. The importance of these services was gradually
felt; and the present highly improved system of our periodical
literature may, in great measure, be traced and attributed to
the pioneering of so humble an individual as myself.
Meanwhile the interesting Congo Voyage, accompanied
by woodcuts, and David Hume's original letters, kept on a
series of popular attraction.
At a small evening party given by Dr. (then Mr.) Croly,
I had the pleasure of first meeting the celebrated French
tragedian, Talma ; and it was a night to be recorded for its
dramatic and literary enjoyment. Talma was in great force
(as it is called), and gave us his opinions in the frankest
and most emphatic manner : speaking English, acquired
during his younger residence in the country, with very little of
foreign accent, and that little only contributing to add a
degree of piquancy to his remarks. Of John Kemble he
was an enthusiastic admirer, whilst of Kean he spoke
slightingly, as deficient in comprehensive intellect and
dignity. To show this, and illustrate the truth of his appre-
ciation of the English stage, he recited several passages
from our great dramatists, and among the rest, Hamlet's
celebrated soliloquy—“To be or not to be, that is the ques-
tion ” In some lines he imitated the peculiarities of our
actors, but there was in the whole a peculiarity of his own—
a French peculiarity in tone and action, which rendered the
exhibition most original and entertaining. His public
recitations, in union with Madame Georges, could afford no
idea of the delights of this private treat.
In September I became the depository and exponent of
DUCHESS D’ANGOUL£ME. 193
Mr. Wilkins’ views of the topography of Athens, on which
a spirited controversy ensued between him and Mr. Barrow.
Mr. Wilkins and I thenceforward carried on an amicable
correspondence, till my earnest opposition to the site, archi-
tecture, and building of the National Gallery in Trafalgar
Square, the perpetration of which unseemly job I in vain
endeavoured to prevent, brought on a fracas and complaints
and hostilities of a rather bitter description.
China, Japan, and New Zealand, still countries of much
curiosity and interest, were copiously brought forward by
reviews and extracts from the works of Mr. (now Sir Henry)
Ellis, the Russian Captain Golownin, and Mr. J. L. Nicholas;
and it may be conceded that such features are the best
proofs of the utility of publications of this class.
I observe from a letter from Fife House, and signed
“R. Willimott,” that I had been seeking some Government
employment this autumn, which Lord Liverpool, however,
did not bestow upon me ; and I was consequently left to
very narrow resources in my quiet and pretty residence,
Rose Cottage, Old Brompton, whither I had removed from
a short abode in Little Chelsea, whilst the cottage was
getting ready. At Little Chelsea, however, at my first
occupancy, my proximate neighbour was the exiled
Princess of Condé, with whom the Duchess d’Angoulême
frequently stayed. The establishment was upon a very
moderate scale, and the daughter of the murdered king of
France dressed little better than a milkmaid, which rank
indeed she much resembled in her form, and walking about
in thick-soled boots. She looked well in health, but had no
appearance of gaiety, or good spirits ; nor was it melancholy,
but I may picture it as a kind of gentle and subdued reserve,
which communicated a grave and serious air to her counte-
nance and demeanour. I was several times admitted to call,
WOL. II. O
194 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
on immaterial matters connected with the neighbourhood, and
am thus able to paint my slight sketch from the original.
But I have a remarkable anecdote to append to this
notice, which I think eminently characteristic of the indi-
vidual who is now playing the highest rôle in the French
nation, viz., the President, Prince Louis Napoleon. During
his last residence in London, he was one of a chiefly
literary party who spent a charming day with Sir Edward
Bulwer Lytton, at his villa on the Thames above Fulham ;
and at which Mr. Disraeli, Count D'Orsay, Mr. George
Bankes, Mr. Fonblanque, “assisted,” and which was also
graced by the presence of accomplished and distinguished
ladies. Among the diversions of the déjeitner, everybody
strolling about the grounds and doing what they listed, I
had the honour to be taken into a wherry by the Prince, and
rowed for half an hour upon the river by him. It must be
confessed that he caught crabs, and did not exhibit so much
skill as to afford me a presentiment that he would so soon,
or ever, scull himself into the position of despotic ruler over
thirty millions of people ! In short, I was rather glad when
I got out of the boat and found myself once more on the
lawn, or terra firma. --
On the return to town, the Prince was courteous enough
to give me a seat in his open carriage, and we happened to
come by the road through Little Chelsea ; our conversa-
tion having turned on an idea propounded by Mr. Bankes,
that the vessel which brought the remains of Napoleon from
St. Helena, might produce a prodigious effect if the sails
were painted with armorial bearings and other emblems,
such as the History of England recorded of the ship of the
great Earl of Warwick | This strange proposition was
received with more than the Prince's usual taciturnity, but,
in passing by the quondam abode of the royal Bourbons,
PRINCE LOUIS NAPOLEON. 195
when I incidentally pointed out the house, I found that I
had at once awakened extraordinary emotions. He ques-
tioned me, again and again, about every particular I could
remember; and, not content with my first answers, repeated
the same inquiries, apparently with an increase of wonder
and interest. It was as if he could not bring himself to
believe that the true ancient regal race of France could
have dwelt in so humble a tenement ; it was, in short, an
involuntary tribute of the soul, paid to legitimacy. Proud
as he was of his own blood, and ambitious of restoring it,
in his own person, to the utmost pinnacle of power, he
could not help feelings allied to those of the parvenu; and
I rarely met him on future occasions, that he did not, if
opportunity served, recur to the subject.*
But to return to my narrative. Anno Domini 1817 wore
away, and with it the poor fund with which I had got out
of the thraldom of the “Sun ; ” so hateful to a disposition
like mine. As I have been reproached with extravagance,
I will pause for a moment at this point, to state my position.
By the failure of Messrs. Whitehead's bank, and the loss I
sustained in my compromise with Taylor, I was thrown
much behind-hand with the world ; and above three years
elapsed before the “Literary Gazette ’’ furnished enough
of profit for even the most economical subsistence ; the past
was unfortunate, the present pinching, and the future only
cheered by Hope. In fact, I was so encumbered, that it
would have been far wiser and better to have appeared in
the Government “London Gazette,” than in Colburn's
“Literary;” but who, with principles of integrity, and con-
fidence in their capacity to improve their condition, could
ever reconcile themselves to such a step, till too late to
* See PostScript at the end of the volume.
O 2
196 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
benefit them 2 The crafty and experienced know how to
stop in time, with little hurt, and start fair again ; whilst
the well-meaning and uninitiated struggle on to ruin and
reproach. From this time, during a large portion of my
life, I paid thirty or forty shillings for every pound, and got
plentifully belied and abused by my unsatiated plunderers.
Heaven knows, I had law actions enow, and not so
amusing as one I was threatened with for refusing to insert
a dissolution of partnership ; the advertiser having mistaken
my Gazette for the official organ conducted by my friend
Robert Clarke, and insisting on my printing the notice,
under the heaviest of penalties; and Clarke, in his turn,
had a more laughable communication, which was intended
for me, in the shape of a letter from Yorkshire desiring him
to insert among his Extraordinary Gazette news the birth
of a child in that county, with six fingers on its hands and six
toes on its feet, and other phenomena exceedingly interesting
to its astonished parents. It was handed over or placed at
the feet of its rightful owner, and I think I did print it
among my varieties.
To finish this year, as far as I am concerned, I will add
two of my own sportive contributions in the months of
August and October. The first is a letter to myself.
“MY DEAREST FRIEND,
“Though this is the first letter I ever wrote to
you, I trust you will excuse the familiarity of the address,
and the more especially as I can assure you it can boast of
greater truth than most “dears’ at the top of epistolary
correspondence. But I hear you exclaim, Why take the
trouble of writing to me, since you may at any private time
let me know what you desire in person ? To this my answer is,
that I am of opinion a formal and public communication will
LITERARY GAZETTE. 197
have more weight on your mind; and since I don't grudge
the trouble, you need not grudge the postage between us.
“To come to the point, then, I am credibly informed and
believe that you have undertaken the responsible office of
editing the “Literary Gazette ; ’ purporting to fill a chasm
in the overstocked periodical literature of this scribbling
era, and to lay as it were a moving panorama of the learning,
arts, sciences, political history, and moral and intellectual
and ornamental advance of the age continually before
your readers, “Audentes fortuna juvat ' ' but, my good
fellow, the strength of Hercules, united to the talents of
the admirable Crichton, and the calculating powers of the
American boy, would not suffice for the execution of so
vast a task. I am afraid you have over-rated your capa-
bilities, as my talkative friend in the Chapter Coffee-house
calls them. Nay, even if you possess the allies you muster
on the parade of your prospectus, will the confederation be
firm and united in the field of the work 2 Can you trust
in your regulars, and rely on your volunteers ? If not, the
Lord have mercy on your soul, for you will soon have a host
of enemies. Ah ! Mr. Editor Mr. Editor | I am afraid
you have not well considered either your difficulties or
your dangers, ‘Ira quae tegitur nocet : ' but comfort ye
this is only one-half of your troubles. You review new
books forsooth ; every censure makes an author and his
partisans your foes. You criticise the drama ; have you
forgotten, or did you never attend to what Shakspeare
says of the players' good words, “After your death you
were better have a bad epitaph than their ill report while
you live.’ You will be pilloried in a farce, caricatured by
Matthews, and transfixed by as many thousand shafts of
ridicule as the wit of modern dramatic writers can supply.
You also criticise the arts: artists are even more irritable
198 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
than the “irritabile genus vatum;’ you will look well on a sign-
post. You have sketches of society and manners; venture
not to censure or reprove, or there will be no society for
you, and your manners may be practised in solitude. Your
very negatives will embarrass and plague you as much as
your positives. You avoid politics; but I hear as many
condemn this abstinence as a blank in your publication,
as approve it for keeping out debasing humours. Every
pseudo-poet, whose unfledged muse you affront by not
admitting her eyases to your nest, will hold you in mortal
hatred. If your literary intelligence is not a string of
puffs, publishers will abominate as much as authors abhor
you. They will print against you gratis (a rare practice
with them) all that revenge will write, and you had better
be broiled like St. Bartholomew than endure these tortures.
If you do not compose panegyrics on the wholesome
common place of ‘de mortuis nil nisi bonum,’ abstain, as you
value your miserable life, from biography: though the evil
that men do lives after them, there would be no discretion,
which is the better part of valour, in allowing its vitality
in your pages. In fine, your case is desperate, and if
one bard exclaimed
“‘Ah me ! what perils do environ
The man who meddles with cold iron,”
you may with greater truth add in agony—
“‘Ten thousand greater perils diddle
The ass who doth with goose-quill meddle.”
“I remember, and well may you, a sorrowful sight—a
hive of bees, with an infernally mischievous Queen Semiramis
at their head, took it into their fancy to form a settlement
on the jowl of an honest, unsuspecting mastiff, who was
LITERARY GAZETTE. 199
lying asleep in the sun, dreaming no doubt ubi mel ibi apes;
but he was dreadfully mistaken, for the Philistines were
soon upon his capital, where there was no honey. The poor
dog howled, shook his ears, scampered, rolled, foamed, and
maddened ; but in vain the pestilent tormenters were
irremoveable. His cries availed not ; they filled his mouth,
and choked his throat ; his efforts were fruitless—they
blinded his eyes, and clustered round his brain, and stung
him to distraction. You and I alone saw, and pitied, and
tried to save him ; but, alas ! our work of pain and danger
was not crowned with the success due to our humanity. It
is true, we drowned off the persecutors, but at the same time
we almost drowned the persecuted ; and when at last he
was freed from his hellish periwig, the torments it had
bequeathed, like the shirt of Nessus, were so intolerable,
that it was mercy which sped the mortal bullet through the
heart of the victim. Need I apply this remembrance of our
early life to you, in whose fate I take so warm an interest ?
No | I leave it to yourself, who are just as able to feel as I
am to enforce its appositeness. I have only to assure you,
that if, in spite of my warning, you determine to persevere
in your mad attempt, you shall have my best aid, and the
ardent co-operation of my friends. But oh my dear sir,
be otherwise advised.
“‘Wive sine invidiá, mollesque inglorius annos
Exige.”
“You will then be happy with one another, for you may
be assured that,
“I am,
“Your sincere friend,
“And unchangeable well-wisher,
“THE EDITOR OF THE LITERARY GAZETTE.
200 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
“P.S. I desire my best compliments may be presented
to Tom and Dick. I hope you have succeeded, as indeed
you ought, with Aldeborontiphoscophornio ; but this is no
time for private matters. Adieu.
- << E. L. G.”
The second is a historical sketch of the Enneabionians, a
newly-discovered nation in the interior of New Holland.
.A. “‘Long were to tell
What I have seen 2
“One day in summer, being determined to visit my friend
C , at Richmond, I took a seat in the stage-coach at
the White Horse Cellar, Piccadilly, selecting, after minute
inquiries, the most steady coachman, as is my general rule,
by which, though I have travelled as much as a thousand
miles within the last ten years, I have only been overturned
fifty-four times, videlicet :--
By the linchpin's being loose . º - . 5 times.
I}y the wheel breaking º * * . . 1
By driving against posts . e e - ... 3
By driving into ditches & e º . . 3
By the axle-tree breaking . * • e ... 2
By anti-attrition . o º & & . . 6
By horses foundering * º & º . 11;
By horses running away º o e . . ;
By racing, and against other coaches . e . 22
54 times.
“This I note (as all travellers ought to convey useful
information) for the benefit of the public, that others,
by imitating my prudence, may escape those severe
accidents which are so common, and journey as much
as I have done with no greater injuries than have be-
LITERARY GAZETTE. 201
fallen me ; that is, a collar-bone dislocated, a leg and
arm broken, ancle sprained, eight or nine contusions on
the head,” and but slight bruises over all the rest of my
body.
“Owing to the precautions taken, we arrived safely at the
end of Fulham Bridge, where it is deemed expedient to
water the horses, lest they should resent the abnegation of
their simple beverage, when the view of the Thames must
convince them that there is no necessity to want. The
driver, being more rational, is not in the habit of drinking
Water.
“While waiting for our second start, I could not help
being witness of a scene of great cruelty. Several ruffianly
boys were tormenting a poor cat, which seemed nearly dead
from ill treatment before I had time to interfere in her
behalf, and when I did, the young barbarians threw their
victim into the river, and ran off to avoid punishment. I
rejoiced to observe that their malice was disappointed.
Puss, carried down by the stream, swam as if she had
finished her education in one of the newest-fashioned Ecoles
de Natation, and landed happily in a private ground below
the bridge, and out of the reach of her persecutors. IIere
she licked herself dry, and began to gambol about as if
* It was upon one of these occasions that my witty companion, poor
Punning, lost his life. His skull was fractured, and the surgeon at
Launceston proposed the trepan. “Oh,” quoth Punning, “I have been
trepanned already :” meaning into a “Fastflier;” but the surgeon under-
stood him literally, and, thinking it dangerous to repeat the operation
without further advice, postponed it till too late. While the surgeon was
consulting the physician, his brain became more affected than usual, and he
died, deliriously repeating,
“Sunt quos curriculo pulverem Olympicum
Collegisse juvat, metaque fervidis
Evitata rotis . . . .
. . . . evehit ad Dees,”
202 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
nothing had happened. ‘It is well for you,' said I, as
the coach drove on, ‘that you have nine lives.’
“The day was sultry, and the conversation within our
vehicle as dry as the weather. My companions being also
lusty, I was squeezed into a corner by a fat lady, whose
pressure produced the soporific effect of shampooing,” and,
in many ways overcome, I had just dropped into a doze—
into which the adventures of the cat were being rapidly
transferred to human creatures—when the coach suddenly
upset, and by a rattling concussion of my brain laid me
along, insensible to external objects, but busy in developing
those within. In short, my journey terminated, and my
travels began. I found myself, after a stormy voyage, and
tedious peregrinations, fairly set down in the interior of the
Blue Mountains, and in the midst of an utterly unknown
people in the centre of New Holland, called the Ennea-
bionians, as their country bore the name Enneabionia.
They were rather a dwarfish race, the tallest among them
not exceeding four feet six inches in stature ; and I thought,
were they hostilely inclined, that I should be able to play a
tolerable stick among them before they got me down. But
there was no occasion for apprehension ; the inhabitants
welcomed me as kindly as the Armatans did a ci-devant
Lord Chancellor, who has taken to the allegorical circuit
since he left off the Northern and Home, in travelling. It
would be impertinent to dwell upon the hospitality of my
reception, and the natural chain of events which gradually
unfolded to my observation the character of this singular
and interesting nation. They differed in appearance from
other men only in one extraordinary feature, the mouth. I
* Wide Hawksworth, vol. ii., page 63, for an account of the soporific
effects of tooge-tooge, or shampooing, as practised in Otaheite, the Tonga
Islands, &c., &c,
LITERARY GAZETTE. 203
had seen strange phenomena among my fellow-creatures—
feet of an inch-and-a-half in Chinese ladies, waists squeezed
into inverted cones in English beauties, and s of enor-
mous dimensions in Hottentot Venuses, but so wonderful a
sight as an Enneabionian mouth it had not entered into my
mind to conceive. Every man, woman, and child of this
blessed nation has ten thin lips, occupying almost the whole
allotment of their faces from their nostrils to the peaks of
their chins. And what rendered this still more astonishing
to me at first was, to observe that the real mouth appeared
to be placed indifferently between any two of these labial
conformations, from the highest to the lowest. I was not
aware at that time that this neither arose from accident nor
chance, but was indeed the consequence and index of the most
important events in the lives of this people. Yet I soon
perceived that great consequence was attached to this
matter. The common salutations on meeting were, ‘I
hope your lips open high; ’ ‘How do you mouth ? ' and
their taking-leave and good wishes were of the same nature,
such as, ‘Etua [their god] keep up your lips ' ' ' May
your last lip never come ! ” “Heaven close your under lips
for ever !” “High mouthing to you ! ” “May your nose
know your mouth ever, your chin never !” &c., &c.; to
divine the meaning of all which I was long sorely puzzled,
as well as with their expressions of pity towards me, “Poor
wretch, he has but one mouth !” Not to keep my readers
in suspense, I will inform them now, that this cluster of mouths
is the necessary appendage, sign, and endowment of a race of
individuals who really possess, as we idly allege of cats, nine
lives. Yes, happy nation little need they fear dangers
and fatal accidents, with such a bank of vitality to repair
the losses, and wastes, and perils of humanity. A forty-
eight-pound shot through the body, only drops the mouth
204 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
one lip lower, and each seems qualified to exclaim, with Sin
in “Paradise Lost,’—
“‘But death and I
Are found immortal.’
“I will, however, draw a figure, to render this prodigious
physical secret clear to the meanest capacity.

–

__”
`-->
“Suppose this an Enneabionian mouth with its ten lips.
When a child is born its mouth is at No. 1, and all the
lower lips are as it were hermetically glued together, as
close as those of lovers; but should it be killed, either by
the carelessness, overstuffing, or overlaying of its nurse (as
is not more uncommon in Enneabionia than in England),
the upper compartment instantly collapses, and No. 2 opens.
Thus do the mouths shut and open in succession to the
lowest, as lives are lost, till at last the term of fatalities
brings down the account to No. 9, and the stroke of Death
is final, and with his iast lip's close, the Enneabionian
expires, or according to the phraseology of the country,
‘ is chimned,’ if he be killed, or ‘chins,' if he die a natural
death. They laughed at me when I told them we had a
phrase in our language, when a person is sorely distressed,
LITERARY GAZETTE. 205
saying “he is down in the mouth ;' but one of the greatest
philosophers of Enneabionia entered into this subject with
the devotion its importance merited, and before I quitted
the country, published a treatise in two volumes folio, which
proved as clearly as is usual under such circumstances, that
Great Britain was originally an Enneabionian colony ; but
what I liked worst in this learned work, was an argument
founded on the fitness of things, which went to show that
these colonists must have been convicts, and that the return
at present to Botany Bay was the natural consequence of a
moral balance. Their funeral ceremonies are very curious;
but I shall not stop to notice them at present, thinking it
more eligible to give my readers some insight into the
manners and habits inspired by the possession of such
inestimable privileges.
“To do this, I cannot pursue a better course, than to
describe an entertainment given by the chief persons of the
town of Ninepins, to which, as a stranger, I was politely
invited, and the company present on the occasion. It was
astonishing to see with what assiduity the whole party
attached themselves to the business of the table. Had I
not had some faint idea of it from the manners of my own
country, I should have supposed that the Enneabionians had
no other care in life but to eat and drink. The anxiety
with which they watched the removal of the covers, and the
greediness with which they gobbled up the tit-bits of one
dish after another, exceeds any belief which I may expect to
obtain in this temperate country.* For two hours did they
* There was one clever rule observed here, which I note down for the
benefit of my gormandising countrymen in London and elsewhere. Every
person began by being helped to the dishes most distant from him, by this
means reserving those more within his reach for the conclusion of the
meal. Verbum sat, the Lord Mayor's day will soon arrive!
206 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
stuff and wallow, and I could only account for their intem-
perance, by knowing, that as they have but very imperfect
notions of a future state, they place all their happiness in
present sensual gratifications ; and I also remarked that
my companions had no time to lose, for wonderful to relate,
with the exception of one man, who had a lip to come, they
were all reduced to their last mouth, though several were
young and middle-aged people.
“My expressions of surprise at this strange circumstance
led the way to the after-dinner conversation, and it will be
received as a proof of the politeness of this people, when I tell,
that to gratify my curiosity, each individual in turn narrated
the chief events of his life by which he was brought so low
in the mouth. -
“‘I am, as you perceive,’ said our entertainer, “a man of
good fortune. Born to the inheritance of the largest estate
in this parish, I was reared with the utmost care. I was
the idol of father, mother, and all the household, yet what
will appear most extraordinary, I lost six lives before I was
six years old. Although my mamma was a fashionable lady,
she resolved to set a bright example to mothers, and nurse
me herself. Yet, as she could not wean herself entirely
from her accustomed pleasures, I was frequently neglected,
and died twice before she weaned me. Maternal duties
and fashionable pursuits cannot assimilate. Terrified at
my lipping, a nurse was hired for me, and one of the finest
peasants on our estate was selected. She was healthy and
good-natured, but she had a child of her own, and through
their stolen interviews I was rendered so weakly, that I fell
an easy victim, first to the Quwgh-whu-w-u-Quugh (their
name for the hooping-cough), and next, to the variolpogs.
In my fifth year I was killed by a fall from my father's
favourite hunter, upon which his favourite groom placed me,
LITERARY GAZETTE. 207
to teach me to ride, and not six months after was frightened
to death by a trick of the nurserymaid, who disguised her
sweetheart as an infernal ill-looking ghost, lest seeing him
in his proper shape, I should blab to my mamma. It was
some consolation to me when I grew up, to learn that even-
handed justice visited this vestal, who became in due time
the mother of the most monstrous and diabolical imp that
was ever preserved in spirits in the academy of natural
philosophy of Enneabionia. From this period I was
tolerably lucky; but at nineteen, having been sent to the
capital, I died from dissipation, and being not long after
shot in a duel, arising out of a frolic adjourned from the
Fum lobby of a theatre to a bagnio, I thought it high
time to return to my paternal acres, and take especial care
of my last lip, which I have now done for above sixteen
years, and so comfortably (I am not married) that my only
apprehension is told by the poet, when he says—
“‘How swiftly glide our flying years
Alas! nor piety, nor tears
Can stop the fleeting day !
Deep-furrowed wrinkles posting age,
And death’s unconquerable rage
Are strangers to delay.”
“‘Your history is not uninstructive,’ quoth the Vicar,
taking up the story, ‘mine is more monotonous, and may
be sooner told. By the accidents of childhood I died only
twice; but the balance between us is made up by my
decease four times during the four years I was at college ;
in the first instance, from contracting a malady respecting
which I did not like to consult the doctor; in the second,
from catching cold one night that I could not get in at my
chamber window ; in the third, from a disorder induced
from want of exercise, while fagging for my degree ; and
208 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
in the fourth, (said he, looking hard at the Squire,) by a
hard fall down-stairs, prepared for me with soft-soap by my
pupil in revenge for an imposition, the recompense for
which death was my present living.
“‘Some, raised aloft, come tumbling down amain,
And fall so hard, they bound and rise again.”
“‘Since my induction I have died naturally of plethora
and apoplexy, and have now only one life at the service of
my patron and my parishioners.’ These last words he
accompanied with a low bow round the room, which was
acknowledged in a bumper toast by all present, and the
physician next thus addressed us:—
“‘More fortunate than the generality of men,” said he,
‘I arrived at years of maturity without the loss of a single
life. At twenty-one I graduated regularly as a physician,
and the lip of my birth-day was still open. What a prospect
of immortality | I took the most rigid precautions to avoid
every danger and every disease, But alas! in the early
part of my life I was poor : it is a long and trying probation
before our profession acquire a name, practice, a carriage,
and wealth. My first life was sacrificed to a mere casualty.
A slight indisposition which I felt alarmed me, and I
prepared a medicine to take on going to bed ; but unluckily
sent it to a patient in a mistake, swallowing the strong drug
I intended for his desperate case. They were of opposite
natures, and we both lost a lip. Poor fellow f his was his
last ! This threw me into a lowness of spirits, and the
terror which a knowledge of the human frame inspired in
me when I was the least unwell, literally destroyed me
three times by three separate nervous fevers, which any-
body else would have escaped. Now, in the middle of my
course, though yet young, I got into full practice ; for the
LITERARY GAZETTE. 209
long preservation of my own lips had inspired much public
confidence in my skill, which, once established, did not
diminish with the number of my lives. I caught, however,
a putrid fever in attending the Duke of Norris, which cost
me one lip ; another I lost, together with my left arm, as
you see, through a slight puncture which I received in my
little finger in opening the infectious body of Lord Cadaver;
and a third closed from my being blown up while attending
a chemical experiment of my friend Mr. Gasote. Thus
reduced, in little more than ten years, to my penultimate
lip, I thought it high time to settle for posterity, and
accordingly married a sickly lady, but of very large fortune.
She wedded me for my physic; I loved her for her riches;
and we might have gone on as decently as can be expected
in the marriage state, but that she sacrificed all her own
and one of my lips to jealousy. Even my last would have
gone with hers; for so desperate was this infatuated woman,
that she mixed poison in our common cup, but on the first
symptom I discovered the cause, and hastily administering
an antidote to myself, I left to fate Mrs. ’ Here a
fit of coughing abridged the few words which remained of
the Doctor's memoir.
“‘It is the immutable decree of Nature,” said a fourth,
who, from his loquacity, I before rightly conjectured to be
the lawyer, ‘that man should die, and the modus quo he
approximates that condition, if not to be may be called a
condition, is of no consequence in the eyes of the eternal
law. For the terms are convertible; and what is justice is
law, and what is law is justice. Therefore no man has a
right to complain * * * Here a tremendous yawn from
the Squire, echoed from the contagious feeling of several of
the party, interrupted the speaker; and I observed with
astonishment that one or two of these otherwise polite
WOL. II, P
210 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
persons had composed themselves into the most convenient
attitudes for sleep. The lawyer took the hint, and as he
was not paid for prolixity, declared he would briefly state
his own case. I know not how it was, however, but either
overcome by the heat of the atmosphere, or some other
cause, I fell into a confused slumber, and heard only the
following broken passages: ‘Quarrelled about the cause in
cross-examining, if witness looked east or west—lie direct—
received my adversary's shot in the back—fell mortally
wounded, and no redress by action of battery—overheated
by wearing my gown during the dog-days, while so fully
employed in a crowded court—requested a silk one, for the
sake of coolness—was refused—died broken-hearted.
Caught the gaol distemper, in visiting the celebrated 3.
to whose villanous deception I attribute the loss of my last
lip, and I am only one remove from that mortal event on
which a philosophising moralist may say of me, with our
immortal bard,” “Where be his quiddits now ; his quillets,
his cases, his tenures, and his tricks? Why does he suffer this
rude knave now to knock him about the sconce with a dirty
shovel ?’” Suiting the action to the word, our lawyer gave
his neighbour such a rap over the head, as made it clearly a
crown case, and ‘roused him like a rattling peal of thunder.’
The whole company started with the din, and a round of
toasts ensued before a pale and care-worn-looking gentleman,
whose vocation I had in vain attempted to divine, took up
the thread of narration.
“‘It is well known,” said he, “what services I have
done my country, and all my reward is the closing of eight
lips. What I was, and what lives I lost while young, is of
no consequence ; for it is not till man, mature and active,
forms a part of the great social system, that he becomes
of any account in the estimation of the statist or economist.'
LITERARY GAZETTE. 211
“‘Oho,' thought I, ‘a politician ’ and I pricked up
my ears, to learn how these wise men acted in Enneabionia.
“‘From seventeen to seven-and-twenty, Izealously advo-
cated the liberty of the people against the encroachments
of power. The mere possession of authority converted
otherwise amiable individuals into incarnate fiends in my
diatribes ; and I raved for alterations which I declared
would be improvements, and instanced the good effect of
destroying all the first-born of Egypt, as a precedent for
immolating all the rich and powerful among ourselves.
“‘The experiment was tried in the kingdom of Maniagal,
and the horrors it produced made me a convert to the other
side. For twenty years I devoted myself to the cause of
our rulers; their measures I defended, their wars I justified,
their errors I extenuated, their virtues I proclaimed, and
their vices I excused, on the plea that whoever supplanted
them would be more vicious. The midnight oil and my
health wasted together, and several of my lives vanished in
this drudgery. The thanklessness of office was my just
reward. After six years’ daily attendance, the high behest
of a trifling sub-secretary sealed my hopes, and threw me
on my own resources, only instructed in this, that there is
nothing so unproductive as political labours, on either side,
after they are performed. Exhausted and chagrined,
esteemed and neglected, praised for talents and steeped in
poverty, I retired to this village, where the pursuit of litera-
ture is the chase which furnishes my humble board; if it is
as scanty as that of the wild Indian, it is also as independent;
and while I mourn, I laugh at the anxiety and fury with
which I once mingled in the madness of party and the fray
of faction.’
“‘I am,’ exclaimed a little fierce-looking man, whose
tremendous mustachios had hitherto concealed from me that
P 2
212 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
he had two lips remaining, ‘a soldier. Ever fearless of
danger, I have fought in nineteen general battles, and
actions innumerable, with the extinction of three lives
added to four which were gone before I entered the army.
Mine has been a career of hazard and peril ; I never
inquired why my sovereign or his ministers ever went to war,
but, always praising them when they so determined, rushed
into it most resolutely, with all my heart, and all my soul.
In the first campaign with the Bonians, I was taken
prisoner, and massacred in cold blood; and in the second
fell gloriously on the field of Humdrum, bequeathing my
exploits to history, which has never mentioned them. In
the last short conflict with the pirates of Brenoo, I was
unfortunately slain; but our victory imposed terms upon
them, which they observed till we were out of sight.
“‘Cowards die many times before their death ;
The brave man only tastes of death but once,"
as is evidenced in your condition and in mine, who have
more lives in store than any one of you, though I have never
shrunk and cringed from my duties as a man.’
“There was yet the tale of a merchant, a farmer, a
traveller, and a citizen to come ; but the offensive language
of the soldier, rendered presumptuous by his two lips, and
the excitement of the company, who had not failed to drink
deeply during this drama of story-telling, begat a quarrel of
the most fatal kind.
“The Captain attempted to draw his sword, which so
exasperated his opponents, that, in their resentment, they
threw him down and literally beat him to death. My
concern was succeeded by astonishment, when I saw his
eighth lip suddenly close in an agony of pain, and his ninth
as suddenly open in perfect serenity, Reduced to a level
LITERARY GAZETTE, 213
with his fellows, his intemperance and their resentment at
once subsided ; and I exclaimed with emotion, “Ah,
gentlemen, I perceive, after all, such is the wisdom and
goodness of Providence, that the poor wretch with only one
life is just as happy as the Enneabionian with nine.’
“The struggle I made to deliver this sentiment with due
effect, woke me from my trance, and I was astonished to
find myself lying on Barnes Common, with an old woman
throwing some ditch-water in the face of -
“ F. MUNCHAUSEN PINTO.”
214 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
CHAPTER XVI.
—4–
THE LATE JOHN TROTTER, ESQ.
From the birth
Of mortal man, the Sovereign Maker said,
That not in humble nor in brief delight,
Not in the fading echoes of renown,
Power's purple robes, nor Pleasure's flowery lap,
The soul should find enjoyment; but from these,
Turning disdainful to an equal good,
Through all the ascent of things, enlarge her view.
AKENSIDE.
ALTHOUGH not yet in emolument to satisfy the expenses,
the “Literary Gazette’’ began to hold an honourable and
acknowledged rank in periodical literature, and the novelty
and utility of its plan to increase the numbers of its friends.
The printing was confided to the celebrated typography of
Bensley, whose establishment was, in the course of the year,
visited by the Archdukes John and Lewis of Austria, and
the Russian Grand-Duke Michel, who closely inspected the
machinery, and carried away as much information about it
as I could communicate. I was pressed on the Austrian occa-
sion, from correcting my press for the morrow's publication, as
the only person in the house at the time who could converse
with their Imperial Highnesses in French, which language I
spoke very indifferently. Add to this that I knew but few
of the names of the various parts of the “Patent Completing
A DAY OF POETRY. 215
Printing Machine,” even in English, and it may be conceived
how perfect an explanation of them and their performances
in action was supplied. They, however, thanked me very
graciously, and ordered the “Gazette,” which, when done
by the Archdukes John and Lewis, was of much service to
its future circulation and influence in Germany. On such
accidents do many of the important events of literary
success, and even of life, often take their hue.
At this epoch the higher compositions of poetry were very
popular. It was a direct contrast to the condition of the
Muse at the present time. How the public taste has hap-
pened to degenerate into apathy, would afford grounds for a
curious philosophical inquiry, for there are sweet and graceful
poets still amongst us, but something has changed the
feeling of the age towards their productions. Have we
become more mercenary, and less refined ? it should seem
so. Poetry has hardly a voice now, and no echo | Dumb
and silent selfism listens to no ravishing sounds which
enchant the generous heart ; or the noise of clamorous
pelf-hunting drowns the intellectual and exalting in the din
of the go-a-head and sordid. Be this explained as it may,
the launch of the “Literary Gazette’’ was fanned by the
fine poetry of Croly; Barry Cornwall, who made his débât
and produced his earliest flights in it; Miss Porden, the
first wife of the lost Sir John Franklin; Knowles, brother of
the eminent Queen's Counsel, and from his few productions
before he was prematurely cut off, quite equal to Kirke
White ; Read, author of the “Hill of Caves; ” Chandos
(Lord) Leigh ; Fitzadam, whose touching tale is almost
confined to these pages, and others, who, if they have not
reached the foremost rank, have shone with considerable
lustre in the literature of their day. Instead of being a
weight to drag down a periodieal, and be passed over
216 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
unread, the poetry in the “Gazette’’ was one of its most
attractive features, and the young, the imaginative, and the
cultivated, rallied round the standard “flowing sheet.”
The sensation afterwards made by L. E. L. completed the
charm.
And there are other matters in this world little dreamt of
in our philosophy, which are as imaginative as poetry, and
still more extraordinary ; but the story connects itself with
my intercourse and friendship with one of the most remark-
able men I ever met in my life, and it must be told at some
length. I was acquainted with Mr. John Trotter when he
thought of establishing the Bazaar in Soho Square. It was
an entire novelty in Europe. From his great previous con-
tracts with the Commissary General's department, he had
very extensive premises in that locality, and when the con-
nection was dissolved, and, as I understood, in compliance
with his advice, the Commissariat (grown to an enormous
extent by the war) made a Government department, these
immense storehouses, which had been the receptacles of the
supplies by private contract, were emptied and left vacant,
to be applied to any other useful occupation. The genius of
Mr. Trotter suggested the Bazaar, and in humanely turning
its foundation and operation into admirably-regulated bene-
volence, he was seconded by his estimable wife. There
never lived on earth a more enthusiastic, and yet systematic
being, than John Trotter.
The formation of the Bazaar turned out to be far more
lucrative than could have been imagined on the first con-
ception of the idea, when its founders invited my literary
assistance to write an explanation of its nature and objects,
to enable the public to understand them. This I did, and got
it inserted in the “New Monthly Magazine,” after which the
account was extracted and enlarged into a pamphlet of a few
THE LATE JOHN TROTTER, ESQ. 217
pages, and sold for a few pence in the Bazaar. A year
after, whilst sipping my wine with Mr. Trotter, my surprise
may be guessed at having a cheque for a considerable sum
put into my hands. I objected to the receipt of any douceur,
but my worthy host called for his Big Book, and showed me
that the amount was bond fide the profit on the extraordinary
sale of the publication. I was glad enough of the unex-
pected supply; for, as I have stated, my income was so
limited, that, had it not been for certain independent
literary employments, and particularly two or three with
the always liberal publisher and ever my warm friend, John
Murray, I could not have gone on even so well as I managed
to do, and, as the saying is, “keep my head above water.”
Before offering a few remarks on the Big Book I have
mentioned—and a stupendous proof it was of the systematic
part of Mr. Trotter's character—I copy a letter from Mrs.
Trotter, relating to the Bazaar, which throws a gratifying
light upon that establishment, and well sustains what I had
written in its commendation:—
“Thursday morning.
“DEAR SIR,
“Not knowing Mrs. Sell's address, I must beg
of you to tell her to call at counter No. 8 in the Bazaar
next Monday, at half-past ten o'clock, and ask there for
Mr. Gingell, to whom I have spoken, and who will take
her to Mr. Trotter, without whose sanction no one by any
interest can be admitted; otherwise I would say yes to your
request ; but unless he decidedly disapproves, I will do all
in my power to promote your views for her. At present
there is not one counter vacant, but there may be sooner or
later; it is all a lottery. Nor is there an inspectress's
situation vacant ; but one of them has been absent a few
218 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
days from illness, which, if it continues, may oblige the
poor woman to give up her employment. We are but just
returned from the Continent, where we were detained by
our little John's having met with an accident, which, thanks
be to God, he has completely recovered from.
“Believe me, dear Sir,
“Yours sincerely,
& F. TROTTER,”
This note indicates the admirable principles on which the
Bazaar was conceived and conducted. There was no pro-
miscuous admissibility. Every person who took a space of
counter must be properly vouched for and introduced;
when at their post, their behaviour must be decorous, and
their dealings fair ; punctuality was a sine quá non, and
breaches of the regulations, or other offences, were imme-
diately followed by warning, and, if these failed, by ex-
pulsion ; but, above all, it was the cherished object of
the founders to look out for tenants in such circumstances
of life as rendered their election a boon and a blessing
to them. The widows and orphans of decayed fami-
lies, who had seen better days in every variety of profes-
sion and walk in business, were thus enabled to provide
for themselves in a creditable and respectable manner.
The case above referred to was an instance, and the
comfort it carried into the hearts and homes of deep dis-
tress was one example, of the multitude for which their
fellow creatures had cause to be for ever most grateful to
their benefactors in the Bazaar.
The Big Book, I have no doubt, remains in the possession
of my lamented friend's son and successor, Captain John
Trotter, of Durham Park, who has in several philanthropic
THE LATE JOHN TROTTER, ESQ. 219
designs followed the beneficent example of his sire. It was,
I think, the largest volume I ever saw, and on opening it, its
vast page had much of the look of a gigantic manuscript of
a page of Napier's logarithms. Yet this apparently inextri-
cable display of figures was a perfect exemplification of order,
with the powers ascribed to the elephant (I dare say it was
elephant paper), to bear a castle, or pick up a pin. Almost
every line or entry embodied a transaction of great pecuniary
importance, or some minute affair of the value of a few pence.
It was so arranged and indexed, that its owner could at once
turn back to any year of his public concerns, or any date of
his private circumstances, and find them clearly stated and
minutely detailed. Thus I remember some chests of stores
were returned from Egypt, which had lain in that country,
lost sight of for years, ever since the expedition under Sir
Ralph Abercrombie. The Government officials in the
Ordnance-office neither knew, nor could know, anything
about their origin, or what ought to be their destination;
and in their dilemma applied to Mr. Trotter. He inquired
if there were any marks remaining, and on being told there
were some faint traces, and getting a copy of them, he
went to his conjuring book, and immediately returned an
answer that such and such a chest contained so many dozen
pairs of stockings at such a price ; that others held so many
pairs of shoes at such a cost, and so on through the lot, and
that the whole were the property of the Crown
To me personally the specimen in the small way was yet
more interesting. One summer day after dinner, I continued
to drink a glass or two of port, instead of paying my respects,
as usual in hot weather, to the superb claret which was an
honour to a cellar where every vintage was of the best.
Mr. Trotter asked why I did so, and I answered that I
had got hold of a wine so peculiar, that I could not make
220 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
out what it was, though it bore a stronger resemblance to
rich fruity port than to anything else to which I could
compare it. He tasted it, and inquired of the butler out of
what bin he had taken it; and on being told, the Big Book
was sent for, from which it was immediately discovered that
the precious tipple belonged to a supply which he and Mr.
Thomas Coutts, the banker, had bought as a curiosity in
1795, on the faith of its character; being then of ripe
age, and fermented from the juice that dripped from
ripe grapes, and without the admixture of a single drop
of brandy. Such was the Ichor Deorum respecting which
these Sybilline leaves afforded so distinct and satisfactory
a record.
The inventive powers of Mr. Trotter's mind were, as I
have hinted, perhaps still more extraordinary than his
organ of order. There seemed to be nothing around him, to
which he paid attention, that he did not improve. His
apartments were models of every comfort and luxury, without
ostentation. Finery was not to be seen. Doors closed
softly of themselves, as if on magic hinges. There were no
noises, no bangings, no culinary odours anywhere but in
the kitchen ; everything neat, everything good, everything
in its proper place, and nothing out of it ; in short, all
things disagreeable or inconvenient, which are often met
with “in the best regulated families,” were so transformed
by his inexhaustible ingenuity, that he seemed to have the
absolute command of every mechanical art. But these were
only every-day trifles, the aggregate of which, however,
contributed largely to the general sum of ease and content-
ment, and the right working that prevailed over every place
and undertaking directed by him.
Here he invented a little machine, like a watch, which
marked every revolution of the carriage-wheels, and regis-
THE LATE JOHN TROTTER, ESQ. 221
tered the exact extent of the drive; * here another, to be
carried in the trouser pocket, which informed you how far
you had walked. He was full of similar curious and most
ingenious productions, many of which, I am afraid, like
many admirable ancient inventions, have left no memory for
our edification in reconstructing such useful articles. Still
more I have reason to regret the passing away, without a
record, of a discovery replete with incalculable consequences
to mankind, viz., the means of carrying on the grand desi-
deratum of civilised intercourse through the medium of a
Universal Language | That Mr. Trotter had mastered this
prodigious system, I have not a doubt. I have witnessed its
practical illustration, for though the secret was not commu-
nicated to me, I have given out the problem, and seen it com-
pletely solved by Mr. Trotter and his eldest daughter, Stuart,
whose intelligence and sweetness of nature was beautifully ex-
emplified in performing the task. I have given the passages
in languages which Miss Stuart did not understand, and yet,
by the application of her father's pasigraphic signs, she has
shown a thorough understanding of them in a few minutes.f
* This desirable check on coachee, when he is supposed to be waiting
several hours for his master or mistress, would well deserve general
adoption, as a considerable preserver of horse-flesh, inasmuch as it is not
altogether unknown to London servants to do a little business on their own
account in the driving line, when they are sure the governor or m’lady are
engaged for some time.
+ This amiable girl died in the autumn of 1818; and, soon after, I
spoke my feelings in addressing the following lines on the affecting event,
to her disconsolate parents:—
There are some woes that wring the heart,
While Sorrow's fount is dry,
To which Earth can no balm impart,
They point us to the sky;
For there alone the anguish'd mind
Can peace and consolation find.
Wain, then, to hope, with human dross
To bid such griefs be o'er ;
222 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
Wilkins's folio essay upon the subject was published so
long ago as 1668, and since that period it has often engaged
the earnest study of able and philosophical men in all
countries. With regard to Mr. Trotter's success, all I
can now vouch for is, that the characters were of the utmost
simplicity, and bore some resemblance to the notes in music;
that they were so limited in number, that two types of a
telegraph would express them all; and that they changed
their signification by relative position.
The knowledge of this character, that is, the power of
reading what is written in it, critically, could, with the
greatest ease, be acquired in ten minutes, by persons of
common capacity. Thus, A, with ten minutes' instruction,
should audibly read—give voice to—these signs, so that B,
previously acquainted with the language, should completely
understand the import given to each by the first writer, C,
with the utmost grammatical minuteness.
Friends can but feel thy fatal loss—
Thy fatal loss deplore;
And He who gives and takes away
Tell thee is now thy only stay.
Yet fain would I some comfort shed
Upon this hour of pain.
Alas, I cannot She is dead,
And will not come again
And child so good, and child so fair,
Hath seldom smooth'd a parent's care.
What could a Mother’s eye delight—
A Father's fondness cheer—
That she possess'd not?—lovely, bright,
Affectionate, and dear;--
Those charms Youth, Beauty, Virtue gave,
Now moulder with her in the grave.
And therefore 'tis we heavenward turn,
Where joys immortal are;
And, piously confiding, burn
To meet our treasures there :
Who bless'd us in this world shall be
Bless'd with us in Eternity.
THE LATE JOHN TROTTER, ESQ. 223
From one to three signs, and very rarely a fourth, ex-
pressed any idea, in all its various moods and forms; and
the grammar of the characters might be acquired in a
very few hours; so that it was firmly believed, from analogy
of the European languages known to the inventor, that every
foreigner could, within that brief space of time, place his
finger on every part of speech used in his native tongue ;
distinguishing the gender, number, and case of the noun,
the degrees of comparison of the adnoun, agreeing with its
noun; the same with respect to the adverb, the moods,
tenses, number, person, and voice of the verb.
The same symbol or symbols represented the same
substance or the same idea in all languages. Every possible
inflection of any word followed the knowledge of the root.
Every symbol, with all the niceties of language, could be
spoken, written, printed, or expressed by a very simple
telegraph.
The roots were few, the number of words, in all their
inflections, without limit, and their use attained with the
utmost ease, within the short time stated ; of which fact I
repeat I have been the witness.
Such was the first outline of this discovery, and Mr. Trotter
and I took much pains to invite the attention of learned
philologers to the properties stated to belong to it. But we
could not arrest the sceptical public mind to the investiga-
tion ; and, like many a great discovery, our Pasigraphy
fell asleep, whilst something else started up to evoke the
ever active faculties of the prolific inventor, who, with the
sensitiveness of genius, felt so discouraged that he would
not bestow the labour needed to mature this conception.
All we gathered was, that a French “ancient major of
infantry” had, about 1796, published in Paris a system of
Pasigraphy, which did not appear to be very difficult, and,
224 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
when understood, requiring little more study or imagination
than short-hand.
But there is a living fact to the practicability of such a
system; since the people of China and Cochin China, though
unacquainted with the spoken language of each other, yet
write in a character perfectly intelligible to both !
The gate which forms the entrance to Mr. Trotter's seat,
Durham Park, I may mention, as an archaeologist, is the
same which Monk caused to be erected in London for the
triumphal return to his capital of King Charles the Second.
In its new site it opened the way to a very delightful retreat,
where I enjoyed some happy holidays. Here and in Soho
Square, the instructive and pleasant society of Mr. Trotter
and his household, combining his own striking conversation
with accomplished literary tastes, charming music, and all
the agrémens of refined communion, leave remembrances on
my spirits which are at the same time sad and solacing.
In my first volume I dwelt upon the fortunate results of
brethren standing by each other in the world's fight, and
endeavoured to contrast the benefits derived from their
mutual affection, and sustaining each other, with the baneful
consequences which must ever flow from family feuds and
fraternal strifes. I instanced the Wellesleys, Pollocks,
Malcolms, and might have added other honoured and con-
spicuous examples to the list; and among these one not
less eminent may be found in the brotherhood of the
Trotters, Alexander, John, and Coutts. They were the
sons of highly respectable and highly-connected parentage
in Mid Lothian, and seated on a property near the Scottish
metropolis. Like so many of their countrymen, they were
sent to London to make their way, Alexander, the eldest,
being promoted through the family interest to a clerkship
in the Navy Office, Somerset House. It was in this
TIIE LATE JOHN TROTTER, ESQ. 225
situation that his talents recommended him to Lord
Melville, did important public service, and laid the foun-
dations of his own, and to a certain collateral degree, of his
brothers’ prosperity. It was, after all, as simple as it was a
sagacious work, and yet of how much benefit to the country.
Before it was suggested by the young Scotchman, the
system of keeping the official accounts was a monstrous
absurdity. They were always largely in arrear, and the
practice was to keep on bringing them up from the date at
which they had arrived, in regular line as it were,
whilst at the same time all the later accounts were accu-
mulating in an increasing ratio ; for the business had
become far too extensive and complicated. Thus, whilst
you were clearing off (say) 1777, 1797 was loading your
books with twice or thrice as much as was got rid of, and
the confusion every year grew worse confounded. The
clever brain of Dreghorn (so called, Scottice, from his estate)
detected this gross inconsistency, and he wrote (as his
brother informed me) a memorial to the first Lord of the
Admiralty, in which he pointed out the expediency of
keeping pace with the current accounts instead of lugging
on the past, but leaving the intermediate period to be
brought up with all the expedition the strength of the
office could afford. Lord Melville perceived the merits of
this suggestion at a glance; the system was adopted, and
the young clerk was promoted to a position of great
emolument, fairly earned by his merits, as well as advanced
to the especial favour and patronage of the powerful friend
he thus had made. His appearance in connexion with the
memorable impeachment of that distinguished individual
cannot have been forgotten by my readers: it was a rub in
the game of party politics.
But the débitt of the brethren in town, as humorously
WOL. II, Q
226 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
described to me by John, must possess more of novelty, and
therefore I will venture to repeat the tale as it was told to
me. They lodged in the Strand, very near to Coutts's
Banking House, of which in process of time Coutts Trotter
became a leading partner ; I think it was on the second
floor, in the shape of bedrooms only, as the young gentlemen
of those days did not indulge much in the expense of
sitting-rooms. I have mentioned that they were highly
connected with some of the nobility of Scotland (a relation-
ship which, as blood is thicker than water, did no harm to
Alexander in his rise in the Navy Office); and they were
occasionally honoured, particularly on Sundays, with a call
from one or other of their dignified kinsfolks. When we
heard their knock (said my informant), we used frequently
to be caught in a disorderly state, and put into a fearful
“bicker.” Perhaps we were, or had just done, feeding, and
everything was in confusion. But we were active fellows,
and before you could cry “Jack Robinson,” the firkin or
pan of butter, and the barrel or pock of oatmeal, or the kipper
salmon, or the jam or jelly, or short-bread, or whatever else
it was which the bounty of our friends at home had supplied
for our provision, was shoved under the beds with wonderful
rapidity ; and before our visitors got to the top of the
stairs, everything was as Snug and tidy as if half-a-dozen
housemaids had been employed From such beginnings
it is a proud feeling to witness the diligent and the
worthy raise themselves to great wealth and eminent
station: the pith and glory of the British empire are
knit up with such progress in our social and national
scale. It is true that only a limited portion can reach
the goal; but thousands and tens of thousands strive for
it, and therein, as in the hair of Samson, lies the strength.
of the land.
THE LATE JOHN TROTTER, ESQ. 227
That John Trotter did not forget the advantage of being
remembered by kind friends in the way of “ victual,” the
following note will witness:–
“Soho Square, 15th March, 1818.
“DEAR SIR,
“I find I have a very gentle cow, small and a good
milker, which calved three weeks ago, and is now ready to
be removed to Brompton when convenient for you to receive
her. At present she lives on hay, of which it seems you
have abundance. I shall hope to hear from you on the
subject, and am, dear Sir,
“Yours truly,
* JOHN TROTTER,”
This was of a piece with many a friendly office, among
which I was very thankful for his handsome and well-
appointed equipage to carry me to, and bring me from the
coronation of George IV., which I was thus enabled to
attend in a style which few literary gentlemen could hope to
emulate. At least, it was a chance so rare as to be unique in
my time, though I hope it may be more within the compass of
my younger compatriots now who uphold the “profession,”
as so pre-eminently eligible for an investment of learning
and talent.
“’Twas not so when Tabitha Woodstock was young;”
and it must be gratifying to congratulate the more fortunate
generation which has arisen since, on the change of times,
of their happy change with it ; long may it continue, though
the preceding literary litter might be unable to help
enviously wishing that they had been born a little later
Q 2
228 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
Another, and the most elaborate affair that ever Mr.
Trotter and I concocted together, was a scheme for placing
the national finances on a better footing ; invigorating every
class of society, producing a plentiful and healthful medium
currency, and, in short, imparting to the country such a
fresh circulation of life-blood, that its prosperity should
hardly know a bound, nor its population a want. He was
very earnest in this matter, and we really worked at it night
and day. He was often at my house before I had risen
from bed, and often found me at my late labours at night;
for the demands on my time always forced me to waste a
great deal of the midnight oil, when all was still, and inter-
ruptions mitigated. The different habits of literary men in
this respect are very curious, though generally to be
accounted for from extraneous causes. Thus, some dili-
gently employ the morning, and others toil at night ; and
some poor souls are at it morning, noon, and night. But
I agreed in opinion with Bishop Burgess, of St. David's and
Salisbury, that the most studious, and learned, and deeply
pondered writings were produced by the sitters-up at night,
and not by spinners in the sun. It is almost impossible to
steady the mind to such objects amid the tempting freshness
of nature on a lovely summer morning ; and as for lighting
candles in winter, you might as well do it before you retire
to rest as to have your rest broken for a very cold, uncom-
fortable, and untimely sederunt early next day.
The currency plan was submitted to Sir Coutts Trotter,
and a number of distinguished political economists and states-
men, including Mr. Huskisson ; and I will say, that though
the theory was objected to by the bullionist school, even
its leaders acknowledged its ingenuity; whilst those of the
opposite opinion held it up as a panacea for all our monetary
evils and panics. The pamphlet we made on the occasion
THE LATE JOHN TROTTER, ESQ. 229
was quite in keeping with Mr. Trotter's methodical precision.
One side of the page was left blank, and on the opposite
side the lines of printed matter were all numbered ; so that
the persons who were consulted could readily make a close
and direct reference to the precise line, and enter their
judgment pro or con on the adjacent white. I have not
seen it now for some years,” and cannot recollect what
bearing it would be likely to have on the altered system of
the golden age in progress ; but if I find the opportunity,
and it seems to have aught deserving of notice I will bring
it forward for another place.
* Since writing this, Captain John Trotter has kindly looked up a
copy for me, and in due season I shall refer to it.—W. J.
230 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
CHAPTER, XVII.
—)—
“LITERARY GAZETTE’’ CONTRIBUTORS :
POETS AND POETRY.
Friend desert not thou the Muse !
Shun not—scorn not—her control |
Thou the yellow drop may'st lose,
But thou’lt gain the wealth of soul.
What is gold unless it bring
More than gold has ever brought P
What is gold, if to it cling
Narrower vision—meaner thought P
BARRY CoRNwall.
IN one of my “Gazettes” in April this year there is
a review of “The Arctic Expeditions,” a poem, by Miss
Porden, the first wife of Sir John Franklin, and mother of
his only daughter, which contains some lines touchingly
applicable to the present hour :—
“Give to mankind the inhospitable zone,
And Britain's trident plant in seas unknown.
Go, sure wherever science fills the mind,
Or grief for man long sever'd from his kind,”
That anxious nations watch the changing gales,
And prayers and blessings swell your flagging sails.”
* Alluding to the inhabitants of lost Greenland, should any exist; and
most singularly applicable now to the gallant officer to whom they were
addressed.
SIR JOHN FRANKLIN : ARCTIC. 231
The following is almost prophetic of a condition of things
we may all so promptly imagine, and deplore—
“Oh, did its sons, beneath the withering gale,
Behold each year their scantier herbage fail
The South, still wont with light and joy to bring,
The friendly ships, the short, yet fruitful Spring,
Changed to their keenest blast . . . .
- “Oh, has their sight
Been strained o'er glowing realms of dreary white
While each clear iceberg, floating o'er the main,
Seem’d a white sail, and wakened hope again ;
Till, fancied outcasts, both of heaven and man,
Even to their hearts the piercing coldness ran.
O'er blasted fields they rolled their stiffening eyes,
And sunk, the victims of unpitying skies.
“Or have they lived, to prove the Almighty hand
Showers blessings ev'n on that secluded land,-
That fortitude can warm that frozen air,
And clothe with food that region of despair.”
I was well acquainted with Miss Porden at this time, and
when she wrote her epic of Coeur de Lion, and also with
her father, an able architect ; and just before Sir John
Franklin departed it gave me a pleasing reminiscence to
meet Miss Franklin (who has since changed her name),
with her enthusiastic stepmother, Lady Franklin, at the house
of the most eminent of all the arctic and antarctic explorers,
Sir James Clarke Ross. The painful interest now attached
to these regions surpasses aught from the time of their first
accidental discovery in 1380, by the Venetian brothers
Lani, through all the voyages of the Cabots, Willoughby,
Burroughs, Frobisher, Pett (who was nexer more heard of)
and Jackman, Davis, Barent, Hudson, Button, Baffin, and
others, to the brave and dauntless efforts of our own coun-
trymen in our own day. Alas, for the mystery and gloom
that impends over the fate of the gallant Franklin and
Crozier and their intrepid companions; rendered almost
232 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
romantically dreadful by the vague stories of phantom
ships seen traversing the ocean, bound to eternal ice
At this period died John Gifford, author of the “Life
of Pitt,” and a number of popular political pamphlets,
and other productions, besides being founder and editor
of the “Anti-Jacobin Review,” and a police magis-
trate. From the similarity of name he was sometimes
confounded with William Gifford, the translator of
“Juvenal,” author and editor of many works of the
highest reputation, besides being the redoubtable editor of
the “Quarterly Review,” who used to be much displeased
with any mistake of their identities. Truly, there was no
comparison, and well was it written of William, that
“He peopled with the blockhead throng
That stern creation of satyric song,”
which put to flight
“That long-eared rout, the Della Cruscan host ;”
and still more deserved to hear that
“Persius is his, and Juvenal arrays
His honoured temples in a living blaze;
His the firm song where genius feels her scope,
And England glories in a second Pope.*
I frequently met John Gifford ; a generally well-informed
gentleman, who had seen much of the world, and could
tell much about it ; with William I became intimate, and
continued a friendship (which will furnish me hereafter
with some literary matter) to the close of his life.
On setting out with the Gazette I naturally consulted
several friends, and from one of them (who has since then
* See Appendix.
LITERARY GAZETTE CONTRIBUTORS. 233
led a distinguished literary and public life), I received and
acted upon the following hints.
“My DEAR SIR,
“. ... You are welcome to any assistance I can give
to its success as a volunteer. If it should gradually look
more promising, then is time enough for any arrangement
which you may consider as the most suitable to the part
which I may take. I may not be fully acquainted with the
general line you have adopted, but it appears to me that
detached essays of whatever excellence are not the most
judicious features of such a work. For facility and for
interest everything should have a reference to, and take as
its groundwork some matter which has already engaged the
public mind. This of course affords a large liberty of choice,
but independently of passing topics, critical surveys of the
works of persons who feel their credit more than commonly
engaged in their works appear to me likely to excite the
strongest curiosity. I do not know for instance whether
you have seen Lord Thurlow's poems ; a slight permeation
of these would certainly awaken his lordship, and every
man who thinks him worth looking or laughing at, to the
book in which they were criticised. I would undertake
those affairs, when you found it convenient to point them
out to me. The spirit of such a criticism of course might
be anything but solemnly literary ; a light examination of
the subject, a light occasional wandering from it into one's
own speculations, and a light ridicule, should be all that was
to be admitted. I leave the filling up of the idea with you.
“I go to the fête to-morrow, and shall have much pleasure
in going with you, if you can contrive to be ready in time; we
should not leave town later than three o'clock, at the latest.
“Believe me, &c.
234 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
I have already mentioned Mr. Canning's advice to shun
polemical and political discussion ; and thus, acting on the
suggestions of the wise and good, and following the bias of
my own inclination and tastes, the “Gazette” increased,
though not rapidly, in circulation, and the superior classes
of the educated and intelligent who were addicted to litera-
ture, began to take a more marked interest in its progress.
Correspondence and contributions multiplied, and able men
in various walks of arts and sciences lent their aid, to facili-
tate my operations. Thus I find Professor Brande, in
Chemistry; Mr. (Sir David) Brewster, a very old friend, in
Kaleidoscope invention, and other philosophical inquiries
of a higher order ; Robert G. Clarke, in historical
researches; Mr. Carey in the Fine Arts; Mr. Dagley in
the same, and in all kinds of disquisition, grave and
humorous, in prose and verse; Professor Faraday, Professor
Millington, Sir Charles Morgan, Mr. Mudford, Mr. Cyrus
Redding, Mr. Gaspey, Mr. Walter Henry Watts, Mr. Duppa,
Mr. S. W. Singer, Mr. Laird, Mr. Andrew Robertson, the
miniature painter, Lord Buchan, and through him M. Millin
at Paris, Mr. Upcott, afterwards so celebrated as an auto-
graph collector, Mr. Ilbery, who had been his fellow-
librarian under Porson at the London Library in the Old
Jewry, and a very intelligent man, and others, whom to
name and describe would occupy more space than I need
allot to the list ; all helping me on my untrodden way.
Suffice it to notice; that some of them have risen to such
eminence as to require no panegyric beyond their announce-
ment, while nearly all the rest were active and useful
workers in their time, and will be found honourably re-
corded in the repertories of literature, sciences, and arts.
Saturn, it is mythologically and allegorically stated, ate up
his children ; and in the true history of more recent and
LITERARY GAZETTE CONTRIBUTORS, 235
civilised, not pagan, man, it is seen that generation eats up
generation in succession, and the busy crowd of human bees
throw off their swarms and perish ; the aforesaid swarms
having to do for themselves, and regarding little of the past.
Thus it happens that many of the individuals of whom
I have spoken and shall speak in these pages, who filled
prominent parts on the grand life-theatre of their day, may
be unknown, even in the brief lapse of thirty or forty years,
to their successors, who are now playing similar parts; yet
did they exercise a considerable influence on the spirit of
the times, and on the progress of society throughout the
world. The greater and smaller wheels are all neces-
sary to the wonderful machine; though the latter, in
the swift and engrossing course of events, are too apt
to be too soon forgotten—some, perhaps, to be revived
again, with thankful remembrance for what they have
performed.
But, as I have observed, the period of which I am treating
was a poetical era. Campbell, Scott, Southey, Byron,
Moore, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Sotheby, Bowles, Crabbe,
Hogg, Montgomery, Wilson, Lockhart, Croly, and other
lesser lights, were in their prime, flourishing and productive,
and a younger race was entering on their career of fame.
Already rich in poetic association, it was to the latter that
I turned with genial affection and regard ; and even from
this early date it is the proud boast of the “Literary
Gazette,” that it cherished and brought forward much of
that genius which has given, and will long continue to give,
infinite delight to millions. In 1818, that periodical was
enriched by a number of fine compositions by the author of
the admired poem of “Paris in 1815; ”* by the earliest
* Published in the Collection of Croly's Poetical Works, 2 vols.
Colburn & Bentley. 1830.
236 . AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
effusions of Barry Cornwall (Procter); * by productions of
Read, author of the “Hill of Caves,” a poet of power, who
ought to have written more to charm the public; by playful
tales and apologues from R. Dagley, and by occasional pieces
from Polwhele, Crabbe, Miss Mitford, Neele, Beresford,
Trin. Coll. Cambridge, Chandos (Lord) Leigh, Fitzadam,
the seaman of melancholy memory, Knowles, who died too
young, and anonymous hands from all parts of the kingdom,
of which the merits were such as to entitle them to juxta-
position with such flowers and fruits of song as made the
regular exhibition of my weekly garden.
Two other circumstances occurred within the year, to raise
the character of the journal in public estimation and repute.
The first was an original translation of the Remarks of the
Austrian Arch-Dukes' (John and Lewis) tour in England,
by Mr. Lloyd, of the Foreign Post-Office, my indefatigable
coadjutor for many a year, through his laborious diligence,
and that of Miss Ross (daughter of William Ross, f an old
* Some of which only that have appeared in many Gazettes are pre-
served in the “English Songs, and other small Poems.” Edition published
last year by Chapman & Hall.
+ Ross and I were always good friends; for I never found politics or
differences of opinion provoke enmities in my breast ; and yet, at the
time alluded to, he was a red-hot republican, though, like most others, he,
too, cooled down in later years. One evening, in the gallery of the House
of Commons, he was pointing out, to a curious stranger, the distinguished
members sitting below ; and, among the rest, Mr. (Sir Benjamin)
Hobhouse. “That,” said he, “is the man of the people, who will stick to
us to the last. If all the rest are faithless, he will “be faithful found.’”
On the following week he accepted a Government office | | Under all
circumstances, however, he was the stanchest and most efficient friend to
the Literary Fund, for the prosperity of which I acted in unison with him
for a number of years, as may be related more at length hereafter ; but,
even in 1818, was beneficially exerted. The Duke of Somerset had rank,
but was a rather indolent and “slow” President; and the interests of the
Fund languished in consequence. I wrote and wrought earnestly to
arouse the prevailing lethargy; and Sir B. Hobhouse was a firm and
powerful ally. 1157l. odd were consequently procured within the year,
and above 820l. devoted to the relief of unfortunate authors; and
LITERARY GAZETTE CONTRIBUTORS. 237
reporter on the “Times,” who was nearly compromised as
a secretary to the famed Corresponding Society, at the time
of the French Revolution), whose talents were of a sound
order, especially for a youthful female, and who still, I
believe, performs able though unostensible duties in the
republic of letters.
The other circumstance which helped to advance the
“Gazette,” was the commencement of that series of smart
and graphic sketches of society, entitled “The Hermit in
London,” the hint for which was taken from my “Paris
Spectator.” They were begun in No. 77, July 11th, and
with a bit of flourish of trumpets, of which I was the blower,
though it was in fact, my copartner, Mr. Colburn, who put
the instrument to my mouth. I, however, declared on his
“authority,” (page 444) for I have always been a little
doubtful on the subject of publishers’ announcements, that
the papers were received from and “written by a person of
distinguished rank and title.” What was much more to
my satisfaction, I perceived that they were the production
of an acute and observant author, who had mixed much
with “the world” and its upper strata, and could draw
very clever and original pictures from real life, and lively
Fitzgerald's annual recitation (so often made the subject of too undis-
tinguishing ridicule), dwelt upon the wrongs and sufferings of the literary
classes:–
“But of all wants with which mankind is curst,
The accomplished Scholar’s are, by far, the worst;
For generous pride compels him to control
And hide the worm that gnaws his very soul.
Though Fortune in her gifts to him is blind,
Nature bestows nobility of mind,
That makes him rather endless ills endure,
Than seek from meanness a degraded cure
Yet from his unrequited labours flow
Half we enjoy, and almost all we know.”
There was, and is, and ever will be, reason in these rhymes, drawn from
a kind-hearted witness of much of the misery he sung and deplored.
238 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
representations of the manners of various circles, without
trenching upon private matters or personalities. That, like
the performances of the “Persons of Quality” of older
times, they required some corrections, licking into shape,
and pointing, was no obstacle. The material was to the
purpose, and it required little trouble to brush it up for
display and sale. The author was a Captain Macdonough,
and his Hermit became at once so popular as to produce a
very gratifying addition to the Gazette, and one no less agree-
able to that repose from actual service which is uncomfort-
ably designated “half-pay.” Above twenty of the essays
appeared before the close of the year.
The opening of our columns to poetical contributions,
though hardly credible to the unpoetical spirit, or rather
want of spirit, now pervading the land, had a considerable
influence on the progress of the Gazette ; and some speci-
mens of dramatic criticism and discussions on the works of
great dramatic writers had also a favourable effect. But
as I have said, the advance, though encouraging, was
neither rapid nor remunerative ; yet it was so tempting as
to provoke imitation of a piratical description, and fraudulent
external appearance, in London ; and in Paris it was trans-
lated nearly verbatim and published under another name.
But the rose in neither case happened to smell as sweet;
and our rivals and copyists soon withered on their stalks, as
did others who in after times essayed the same walk in
literature, and some of them with very commendable talent.
It was no wonder that, living in such an atmosphere of
verse as I have described, I should myself be more than
ever bitten with the cacoethes scribendi; and as an editor
has nobody to control, reject, or amend his lucubrations, I
presume that I took advantage of my privileges to insert
the subjoined two pieces in one number ; calculated, as I
LITERARY GAZETTE EDITOR. 239
daresay I thought at the time, to display my sportive and
my melancholic capabilities. Ea. gr. :-
TO A PIMPLE ON TOM'S NOSE,
Thrice red that blossom is, alas!
And thrice red has it been :
Red in the grape—red in the glass—
Red on thy nose, ’tis seen.
Ah, Tom 1 at that red, red, red blot
Thy well-wishers bewail ;
They say the redness of that spot
'Tis makes thy poor wife pale.
The jocular may pass, but I know not what the critical
verdict may be on the serious :-
NIGHT DREAMS-LIFE DREAMS
“Life is a dream,” and “rounded by a sleep”—
A heavy sleep—and Oh! a sorrowing dream,
And wild, and fevered ! Be its glosing deep—
Oblivious as Lethe's fabled stream,
Untroubled by one soul-reviving beam,
Lest I should wake again to some new race
Wexed as the past,-of which I well might deem
'Twas as Night's broken minutes, through whose space
Things hideous, fearful, agonising, all held place.
Yet, innocent and beautiful, the forms
In opening vision o’er my senses play;
Serene the heavens, as if there ne'er were storms,
And bright, as if eternal were the day.
With my companions how I bound away—
Rude-laughing at each freak, careless and free
Ah, merry little fools, in frolic gay,
How we disport, brimful of Nature's glee
I wake. 'Tis past—’tis gone—the dream of Infancy /
Arcadian bowers Were ever bowers so fair
As these I thread? Was ever painted mead
Like these I move upon, whose flowerets rare
All that the earth e'er perfected exceed 2
Such gorgeous colours, and such shapes, indeed,
240
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
As win the eye to gaze, as if delight
Would ceaseless on the dazzling wonder feed—
Increasing ! while, to spoil this scene so bright
Is near nor sting, nor thorn, nor snake, nor envious blight.
And on my arm She leans, who, fairer still,
Makes all this paradise, my promised bride—
Soul-joined, of love and joy we prate our fill,
As wandering all adown that river's side;
Years coming like its pure waves’ placid glide.
Ah, faithless bank 1 why tempted I thy brink?
Precipitate, and plunging in the tide,
Love's dream is o'er / I struggle, gasp, and sink;
And she her troth and faith doth with another link!
A shadowy Spectre, of tremendous power,
Approaches dimly. Stretching forth an arm
Impalpable, its finger points an hour.
It drags me on, resistless. Magic's charm
Hath not, nor ever had, such gift of harm.
That hour is Death, and all between is pain,
Racking the joints, freezing the life-blood warm.
Thou art Disease—thou spectre of the brain—
Night’s grimly visitant—in life man’s direst bane.
Horror ’tis on my limbs, my breast, my soul,
The fell Hag rides; nor motion, breath, nor life
Are mine ;-so dead and heavy her control,
I cannot even groan for help. Her knife
Is in my heart. Pangs through each nerve are rife.
Exulting see the demon bloat and swell
O'er the poor victim's faint and dying strife
Her name the Night-mare, as weak dreamers tell !
But Poverty it is, which makes this world a hell.
Were not the power to shriek for help denied,
How friends would rush to chase the fiend afar !
With such I converse hold, though yet untried,
Whose sympathies congenial know no jar,
But, born beneath an influencing star,
Admiring, loving, hating each the same ;
Fix’d in esteem, no accident can mar ;
Ready to aid, as either aid may claim.
All human parallels, and differing but in frame,
From books, from social bliss, to Nature's store
We range together. Now, the bright-orb’d sky
We scan with wonder, and its Lord adore;
Now, Earth we meditate ; now, Ocean eye,
In all its grandeur, from this rock on high,
LITERARY GAZETTE EDITOR. 241
Whence to the shore dare scarcely Fancy creep.
Yet, down the impaling precipices I
Am hurl’d “Friends, help !” They dash'd me o'er the steep,
And mock these dreams—thank Heaven, “all rounded by a sleep P’
The readers of my memoirs will, I hope, be so good as
pardon the quotation of my own productions; the vanity of
which I candidly own. But besides the personal desire to
show that I have written some tolerable things in my time,
which are scattered unacknowledged and unknown in many
publications, and am not quite undeserving of a niche among
the minores gentes on the outskirts of Parnassus, I wish it
to be understood that I have had some pretensions to
deliver my opinion upon the productions of others—seeing
that I have myself attempted as much as to enable me to
understand their difficulties and their triumphs.
My lines, I have no doubt, were inspired by some dis-
appointment of friendly succour, at this time when my
resources were unsettled and insufficient ; and I felt as the
poet from whom I have headed the chapter expresses it :—
Had he no friend? Oh! yes:
Pity which hates all noise, and Sorrow, like
The enamouring marble that wraps virgin mould,
And palest Silence, who will weep alone,
And all sad friends of Death, were friends to him
The world is full of such false sentiment and friends
bearing the name without the moving principle. Bah!
Show me friends like the old Scotch lady, who, in the
unhappy civil war, hearing some one pray “God defend the
right,” fervently exclaimed in the true spirit of friendship,
“God defend the right? God defend Hamilton's regiment,
whether right or wrong !”
WOL. II. R
242 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
CHAPTER XVIII.
—º-
POETS; POETRY-AUTHORS; ARTISTS-A PATRON.
Come on, ye Critics, find one fault who dares;
For read it backwards, like a witch’s prayers,
*Twill do as well.
As skilful divers to the bottom fall
Sooner than those who cannot swim at all ;
So, in this way of writing without thinking,
I have a strange alacrity in sinking.
EARL of DoRSET.
AMONG my endeavours to promote useful undertakings, I
wrote much in favour of an Equitable Trade Society for the
adjustment of disputed accounts, the prevention of law suits,
and the benefit of the commercial and trading interests,
which unfortunately never could be carried into execution,
to substitute cheap and honest arbitration for costly and
lottery-like decisions. The public has not yet become wise
enough to mature such a plan, and the county and other
courts continue to do the old work, though so far happily, in
a partially reformed manner. I also strove for the establish-
ment of free drawing Schools, and schools for the cultivation
of design, throughout the kingdom : I was then before the
age, but am rejoiced to have seen the recommendation acted
upon within the last few years, and I trust it will spread to
the magnitude and encouragement of the fine arts which I
POETS ; POETRY-AUTHORS ; ARTISTS-A PATRON. 243
originally contemplated. I also, I believe, uttered the first
continuous outcry against cruelty to animals, which has also,
since then, acquired a definite form, and reflected credit
upon humanity.
These were labours of love, and pursued with a lover's
fervour; and I was not less gratified by making my way
gradually in the opening of scientific and learned institutions
for the general benefit, by procuring admission to their
sittings and leave to make known their proceedings, hitherto
the sealed mysteries of a few individuals, till perhaps a tardy
volume, appearing after the lapse of years, told us of some-
thing that had grown stale by keeping. The contrast now,
in consequence, is astonishing: assuredly I contributed
mainly to remove the bushel from over the candle, so that its
light might be diffused over the land : and see
“How far this little candle throws that light;
So shines a good deed in a naughty world.”
Nor was my pen idle in the way of fanciful pleasantries,
of which, as not yet obsolete or too stupid for a good-
humoured perusal, I take leave to insert here a specimen :-
“ 1820.
“ TO THE EDITOR OF THE LITERARY GAZETTE.
“Orkney, June 4th, 1817.
“SIR,
“The being one of those gifted individuals who
possess the second sight, or faculty of peeping into futurity,
would, I am sure, constitute a sufficient introduction to
your columns; but the marvellous manner in which I
have recently had my prognosis confirmed, furnishes a still
more irresistible claim to your attention.
- R 2
244 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
“Walking on the 30th of February, sir, upon the sea-
side, I beheld at about the distance of three furlongs, upon
a small tabular-shaped rock which just emerged from the
bosom of the heaving wave, one of those extraordinary
creatures, the existence of whieh has been almost as much
doubted by scepties as the existence of the second sight
itself, I mean a Mermaid, if I may so call that which
appeared to be a Mother,” for she was suckling a little
innocent with a tail like a gold fish, and not longer than
eighteen or twenty inches. Both mother and child were
surpassingly beautiful. The former had a fine oval counte-
nance, and not the less lovely from being inclined to green,
like some of Sir Joshua Reynolds's pictures, in which the
colours are most evanescent. Her hair was purplish, as
you may have seen the carrot-locks of mortals who had in
vain attempted to die them black, and so long that it
floated on the water like a sea-weed. The bust was the
finest I ever gazed upon ; and though I cannot so much
approve of her extremities, it is but justice to acknow-
ledge that the whole of the fish department was radiant
as a dolphin playing in the Sunbeams, elastic as the
flying-fish, and shapely as the salmon. Earnestly engaged
in her maternal office, the oceanic lady did not heed my
approach, and when she began to sing her offspring to
sleep—ye gods ! it was the music of the spheres or fabled
cadences of the expiring swan. Never was mortal man so
raptured as I was. I stood transfixed in a trance of
delirium, chained, like another Prometheus, to the rock
nearest that of the enchanting Mermaid. In this posture
it seems I first caught her eye, and whether it was that,
being susceptible of flattery as earthly females are said
to be, or influenced by any other consideration I know
* “In terrene affairs this species of misnomer is not uncommon.”
POETS; POETRY-AUTHORS ; ARTISTS-A PATRON. 245
not, but to some cause or other must I attribute the
wonderful condescension with which she rewarded the
expression of intense admiration so visible in my features.
“It were needless, sir, to occupy you with the entire
conversation that ensued. Suffice it to say, that a per-
fectly good understanding arose between the prophetess
of the sea and the seer of the earth. The Mer-child was
gracefully laid to slumber upon the fin of its accomplished
parent while she unfolded to me the drama of the future.
“It may be proper to explain to you that my sight is
limited to somewhere about seven hundred and thirty days,
beyond which my perceptions of futurity are dim and
uncertain. But my fair companion darted her easy glance
into years, it may be into ages, far removed. Curiosity is
most excited by proximate objects. I cared little for 1920,
but 1820 arrived just at the end of my own vista, and I
regarded with peculiar attention the exposition of that year
as successive seasons were unfolded to me in the glass of
my wonderful acquaintance. This glass, by the way—and I
am happy to set at rest so important a point in natural
history—is a perfect sphere, and not an oval plano, as
hitherto represented by the pretenders to Mermaidāl inter-
course. Upon its transparent face the lines of January,
1821, were just opening upon my eye, when the report of a
duck-gun startled my ear. In an instant my instructress
vanished beneath the billow, and what became of her glass
I know not, though from the unwelcome entrance of about
an ounce of shot (No. 1, Mr. Editor l) into my body, I am
inclined to suspect that she also got a few drops too much,
and that her glass was shivered. For some moments I was
not aware of being wounded ; but when the sportsmen
started from behind a precipice where they had couched for
the benefit of a surer aim, I perceived the whole nature and
246 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
extent of my misfortune. Painful as was my situation in
every respect, the denouement had something ludicrous in
it. I was peppered, and that soundly too, and the shooters,
my personal friends, with all their assumed concern, could
not help laughing heartily at the mode in which they had
interrupted my téte-à-tête with the Mermaid.
“But no more of this. I hasten to lay before you as
much of the history of the year Eighteen Hundred and
Twenty as I can recollect ; many important matters having
I fear, slipped my memory during the three months I have
been smarting under the hands of the surgeon, and those
benevolent friends who have from time to time had the
kindness to devote an hour to the amusement of picking
the shots out of the carcase of your unfortunate humble
Servant,
“ DONALD MACDARTGLANCESON.”
• 1820 !
* “The King's palace looked quite bare and unfur-
nished ; there had been a clamour against the expense of
chairs and tables for it, and the Sovereign had reduced his
establishment to Spartan plainness. I naturally took a
peep to observe how wretched the prisons must now be ;
but judge my surprise on finding every gaol glittering with
mirrors, rich with Turkey carpets and sofas, and some of
them even adorned with noble corridors and the most
transcendent paintings, with lawns for exercise, theatres for
concerts and private performances, and all that taste could
devise for the gratification of luxury. On inquiry, I found
* “Our correspondent's letter here assumes the form of loose notes,
apparently the result of his examination of the glass, and the explanations
of its proprietor.”
PoETs; POETRY—AUTHORS; ARTISTS-A PATRON. 247
that this change had taken place in consequence of the
exertions of a great statesman of the name of Benedict, and
that the most magnificent of the buildings I saw were for
State Prisoners, so called from the state in which they were
maintained.
“I turned to examine the church. Astonishing! Each
venerable pile was surrounded by a number of appendage
buildings, like a hen and chicken daisy ; these were chapels
of ease which had been added at the suggestion of the
Chancellor of the Exchequer in 1817. St. Paul's cut a
most extraordinary figure with its adjuncts, which reached
all over what was once Paternoster Row, and Satan was
now defied where Printers’ Devils had reigned so long.
The interior of the National Church was however even more
transformed than the exterior. The light of reason had at
last succeeded in attaining perfect toleration. The Arch-
bishop of Canterbury was a very zealous Roman Catholic ;
the Chancellor of the Exchequer a worthy Jew, with a fine
beard, and a great financier ; the first Lord of the Admiralty
an Anabaptist, who baptised the crew of his fleets over the
ship's sides; the first Lord of the Bedchamber a strict
Methodist ; the Lord Chancellor a Southcotian, with the
guardianship of many Shilohs; and the Commander-in-
Chief a Quaker |
“A grand reform had taken place in Parliament. There
was a general election every month. Men had two votes,
children one, and women three. Nine-tenths of the mem-
bers were consequently females, a few males standing for the
boroughs. The Speaker this month (April) was Mrs. Mary
Anne Clarke, whose intrigues had elevated her to that high
situation.
“There was a levee. I took a peep. The chief pre-
sentations consisted of missionaries returned from prose-
248 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
lytising Asia, Africa, and America. Their suites were the
most splendid that can be imagined, and composed of black,
copper, tawny, grey, yellow, red, blue, pink, green, and
carnation-coloured natives of every clime in the universe.
Their wives were superbly dressed, and their concubines and
seraglios still more magnificently adorned. Some of them
were blazing in diamonds.
“At the Cabinet Council after the ceremony, dispatches
from Tombuctoo were laid before his Majesty. A storm had
wrecked several vessels in the Niger between Wangara and
Bergou, and a gang of carpenters were ordered to be dis-
patched to assist the King of Tuarick in repairing them.
There was also indifferent intelligence from Nubia and
Darfur. The canal for carrying the Nile out of its course
so as to avoid the cataracts, had however been completed
under the inspection of that able engineer, Mr.
“The provincial halls for the meetings of political delegates
were just roofed in ; a letter from America offered to bet
100 dollars that the writer would return to England by
next fall.
“The exhibition of the Royal Academy was open, and
consisted entirely of portraits, an essay from the pen of
the learned Sir Sycophant Flatter, Knt., having proved to
the conviction of the nation that portraiture was the truest,
highest, nicest, and most interesting branch of the art. The
sculpture-room was full of busts—that of architecture, with
plans of prisons and elevations of monuments to living merit.
“Drury-Lane Theatre, after being shut two seasons,
was opened for three sermons to be preached by Mr.
Chalmers. Boxes, pit, and galleries, a bumper. At
Covent Garden there was a piece performed by dogs and
monkeys; it was bespoke by Prince George Augustus
Coburg, now nearly three years old, who was rapturously
POETS; POETRY-AUTHORS; ARTISTS-A PATRON. 249
greeted by the audience, and seemed much pleased with the
entertainments. The actors certainly exerted themselves to
the utmost, especially that old public favourite, Mr. Jacko.
An apology was made for Tobina, the successor of the
learned pig, who was to have danced a waltz to a wind
instrument, but was prevented by a cholicky complaint.
The last bulletin was, however, favourable.
“An advertisement announces that Professor Davy has
nearly perfected his recent invention of the ‘Salamander
Great Coat, which enables the wearer to walk at his ease
through the flames of burning houses.’ The happiest results
are expected from this discovery. The same paper notices
that the steam apparatus for working questions in fluxions
and algebra, has already sold nineteen thousand ; the steam
wings are ready for the new expedition, and General
has almost recovered from the bursting of his boiler.
“Bridges with the arches inverted are not so universal as
they would be, as tunnels seem to meet with greater
encouragement. That from Dover to Calais is not expected
to be complete for some time.
“The greatest improvement in politics seems to be the
system of legislating entirely through the medium of news-
papers. Oratory has certainly declined in consequence of
this alteration ; but then printing has greatly improved, and
the steam compositors and editors may be reckoned the
perfection of human ingenuity.
“Dancing on all fours is now the only fashionable style.
The missionaries' ladies who introduced it still surpass
native artists; but some of our belles go near to rival them,
not only in the camel, buffalo, and beaver steps, but even in
the tiger spring, squirrel frisk, and ape gambol. What will
not British talent accomplish
“Examinations for public employments of every kind, as
250 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
well as medical degrees, legal appointments, &c., being now
determined by craniology, the Barbers' Company have re-
sumed their ancient pre-eminence, and shaving in all its
branches flourishes more than ever.
“In consequence of the universal use of iron paving, the
city of Edinburgh has been ruined ; and the port of Leith,
which was wont to carry on so brisk a trade in the staple
commodity furnished by Salisbury Crags and Arthur's Seat
paving stones, is now a desert.
“The Grand Seignior, the Emperor of Pernambuco, and
oh 3% 3%
<< ANNUS MIRABILIS.”
May I add, from many more in my earliest numbers of the
“Literary Gazette,” these brief morceaux :—
AHMHTPI'Or KONXTANTI'NOY,
Eis té, év tá Movaeſq, Bpetavvikº avvrmpotueva &yd Wuata,
'Etriypappa.
‘EAA&s éu?, troAegoſori karaqp6quévn troxtropbots,
Xaipe, kc. Év pépetpø total Téreoral pixm.
Xópa reby 0\mtöv tróAepot 60yavt’ &róAegoat'
*A6avátov jux}v oëk 6Aéorat Suvaróv.
Zhoetal &0avátotalváel étréeorgiv"Oumpos'
dºeiðuov čupuxois Tveija Št' weatu Atôots.
'Ev Aovôſvg Tà ké’IovXtov.
PARAPHRASE.
EPIGRAM on THE STATUES IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM, BY DEMETRIUs
CONSTANTINUS.
Hail, Greece my loved, my native land,
The ruthless desolate thy strand :
In death, dear to thy filial band
Thy mortal part the foe might spoil:
The immortal mocked his barbarous toil |
And till of human kind is none,
In deathless verse shall Homer live ;
And Phidias’ spirit shall survive
In every breathing stone.—W. J.
POETS; POETRY-AUTHORS; ARTISTS-A PATRON. 251
IMPROMPTU.
ON READING THAT THE PACHA OF EGYPT HAD SENT SEVERAL SACKS
of EAR8 To constanTINOPLE, AS A PRoof of HIS
VICTORY OVER THE WECHABITES.
O'er Wechabites the Pacha's fame
A wondrous trophy rears :—
Tongues other conquerors proclaim ;
His deeds are told by Ears /
A paradox is his campaign :
No town does he attack,
Yet his foes' capitals are ta'en,
And all given up to sack /—TEUTHA.
The Moslem Bridal Song, Czerni George, Rosolia, the
Death Song, on a Portrait of the Queen of Prussia, on
Stewardson's beautiful Painting of an Indian Girl charming
a Serpent, on Nelson's pillar at Yarmouth, on Portraits by
J. P. Davis and Macquerier, and other poems, by Dr. Croly,
first appeared in the Gazette within the few months over
which I have run, besides others hitherto unpublished, from
which it is my purpose to select a few examples. At the
same time Barry Cornwall first imped his wing in my grateful
pages, and long continued a most welcome guest. In pub-
lishing their collected works, neither of my old friends have
stated these circumstances, which I thought, though I care
about it no longer, rather unkind to the cradle in which
they were nursed. It is therefore the more my duty, as
the rocker thereof, to restore some of their early utterances
in the bygone and almost forgotten times.
The following are by Croly in 1817:—
THE DEAD SEA.
The wind blows chill across those gloomy waves—
Oh ! how unlike the green and dancing main
The surge is foul, as if it rolled o'er graves ;-
Stranger here lie the CITIEs of The PLAIN
2
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
O
2
Yes; on that waste, by wild waves covered now,
Rose palace proud, and sparkling pinnacle:
On pomp and festival beam'd morning’s glow ;
On pomp and festival the twilight fell.
Lovely, and splendid all;-but Sodom’s soul
Was stained with blood, and pride, and perjury;
Long warned, long spared, till her whole heart was foul,
And fiery vengeance on its clouds came nigh.
And still she mocked, and danced, and taunting spoke
Her sportive blasphemies against the THRONE :—
It came !—the thunder on her slumber broke,
God spake the word of wrath—her dream was done !
Yet, in her final night, amid her stood
Immortal messengers, and pausing Heaven
Pleaded with man, but she was quite embrued;
Her last hour waned, she scorned to be forgiven
'Twas done !—down poured at once the sulphurous shower ;
Down stooped in flame the heaven's red canopy ;
Oh, for the arm of God in that fierce hour !
'Twas vain ; nor help of God or man was nigh.
They rush, they bound, they howl the men of sin
Still stooped the cloud, still burst the thicker blaze:
The earthquake heaved then sank the hideous din—
Yon wave of darkness o'er their ashes strays.
PARIs thy soul is deeper dyed with blood,
And long and blasphemous has been thy day;
And, PARIs, it were well for thee, that flood
Or fire could cleanse thy damning stains away.
THE STORM.
The sun went down in beauty—Not a cloud
Darkened its radiance,—yet there might be seen
A few fantastic vapours scatter'd o'er
The face of the blue heavens;–some fair and slight
As the pure lawn that shields the maiden's bosom ;
Some shone like silver—some did stream afar
(Faint and dispersed) like the pale horse's mane
Which Death shall stride hereafter, some were glittering
Like dolphin's scales, touched out with wavering hues
Of beautiful light—outvying some the rose,
And some the violet, yellow, and white, and blue,
Scarlet, and purpling red.
POETS; POETRY-AUTHORS ; ARTISTS-A PATRON. 253
One small, lone ship
Was seen, with outstretch'd sails, keeping its way
In quiet o'er the deep, all nature seem'd
Fond of tranquillity, the glassy sea
Scarce rippled—the halcyon slept upon the wave,
The winds were all at rest,-and in the east
The crescent moon (then seen imperfectly)
Came onwards with the Wesper star, to see
A summer day's decline.
+ + + *
The sun went down in beauty,+but the eye
Of ancient seamen trembled, when they saw
A small, black, ominous spot, far in the distance :—
It spread and spread—larger and dark—and came
O'ershadowing the skies—the ocean rose—
The gathering waves grew large—and broke in hoarse
And hollow sounds—the mighty winds awoke,
And scream’d and whistled thro’ the cordage;—birds
That seem'd to have no home, flock'd there in terror,
And sat with quivering plumage on the mast—
Flashes were seen, and distant sounds were heard,
Presages of a storm.
+ + + +
The sun went down in beauty, but the skies
Were wildly changed.—It was a dreadful night—
No moon was seen in all the heavens, to aid
Or cheer the lone and sea-beat mariner—
Planet nor guiding star broke through the darkness;–
But the blue lightnings glared along the waters,
As if the FIEND had fired his torch to light
Some wretches to their graves, the tempest-winds
Raving came next, and in deep hollow sounds,
(Like those the spirits of the dead do use
When they would speak their evil prophecies),
Mutter'd of death to come, then came the thunder
Deepening and crashing, as 'twould rend the world;
Or as the Deity pass'd aloft in anger,
And spoke to man—Despair.
The ship was toss'd
And now stood pois'd upon the curling billows,
And now 'midst deep and wat'ry chasms (that yawn'd,
As "twere in hunger) sank;-behind there came
Mountains of moving water, with a rush
And sound of gathering power, that did appal
The heart to look on, terrible cries were heard,
Sounds of despair some, some like a mother's anguish,_
254 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
Some of intemperate, dark, and dissolute joy—
Music, and horrid mirth (but unallied
To joy)—madness might be heard amidst
The pauses of the storm;-and when the glare
Was strong, rude, savage men were seen to dance
In frantic exultation on the deck—
Though all was hopeless.-Hark—the ship has struck,
And the forked lightning seeks the arsenal—
'Tis fired —and mirth and madness are no more.
"Midst column'd smoke, deep-red the fragments fly,
In fierce eonfusion—splinters, and scorched limbs,
And burning masts, and showers of gold, (torn from
The heart that hugg'd it ev'n till death.)—Thus doth
Sicilian Etna in her angry mood,
Or Hecla 'midst her wilderness of snows,
Shoot up their burning entrails, with a sound
Louder than that the Titans utter'd from
Their subterranean caves, when Jove enchain’d
Them daring and rebellious.-The black skies,
Shock'd at excess of light, return'd the sound .
In frightful echoes—as if an alarm
Had spread through all the elements, then came
A horrid silence—deep—unnatural,—like
The quiet of the grave.
Barry Cornwall, I believe, made his débât in print, or
very nearly so, at the same time in the “Literary Gazette;”
and his genius was so vivid, that I think I can put my finger
on some twenty of his pleasing contributions in the year
1818. The first I observe are lines on “Uriel,” a beautiful
picture painted by Allston, and the next, “The Comet,”
both, as far as I know, otherwise unpublished. “The
Marriage of Peleus and Thetis” was a yet more expansive
flight, and more clearly evinced the characteristic classical
traits of the writer, so finely developed in many a succeeding
composition. “Magic,” a dialogue between Angeline and
Prospero, indicated in an equally decisive manner the
writer's dramatic turn ; and a jeu d'esprit on the celebrated
dancer Fanny Bias, displayed versatility and playfulness,
whilst a few lines of satire on a coarse Political exhibited
great force of powerful language. I was much delighted
POETS; POETRY-AUTHORS; ARTISTS-A PATRON. 255
with my new correspondent, and predicted the rise of a
poetic star. Altogether different are lines to —;
in imitation of an old poet, which, with the little parentheses,
might be sworn to as written by Barry Cornwall:—
Sweet lady! by that deep blue eye,
Behind whose fringed canopy
Love himself doth lie—
And from that throne of living light
Flings his dangerous arrows bright—
By that red and swelling lip
(With what a tremulous charm it glows ()
Whose spiced dews I long to sip,
Fresh and sweet as the bursting rose,
Or the half hidden violet,
When the morning sun revisits it—
By that form, and by that face,
Where loveliness is mixed with grace,
And every beauty hath in turn its place—
Whose angel look (void of all sin)
Speaks of the angel mind within—
I swear I love thee truly. I
Have sworn—Now what is my destiny P
A longer piece of perhaps a superior cast appeared in the
same number, entitled “Portraits,” and in a few weeks a
fine production for “ St. Cecilia's Day,” in which, after
alluding to the genius of our most celebrated bards, he says,
with feeling and taste—
Oh! ye the master spirits of my time,
Forgive, forgive that I have dared to talk
Of ye, and in your temple walk,
And trifle with your names or themes sublime !
I am a wanderer on the sacred hill,
And round the humbler slopes at times do stray,
And listen to—though far away—
The music of your own Castalian rill.
“The Dynasty of Dandies,” a humourous jeu d'esprit in
prose, intervened between the next fits of poetry, viz., “A
Haunted Stream,” and the following, which I consider to be
256 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
worthy of the latest honours unanimously accorded to the
graceful poet :—
Gone from her cheek is the summer bloom,
And her breath hath lost its faint perfume,
And the gloss hath dropped from her golden hair,
And her forehead is pale, though no longer fair.
And the Spirit that sate on her soft blue eye
Is struck with cold mortality;
And the smile that play'd on her lip hath fled,
And every grace hath now left the dead.
Like slaves, they obey'd her in height of power,
But left her all in her wintry hour;
And the crowds that swore for her love to die
Shrank from the tone of her last sad sigh.
And this is Man's fidelity
'Tis Woman alone, with a firmer heart,
Can see all these idols of life depart,
And love the more, and soothe, and bless
Man in his utter wretchedness.
I am sorely tempted to extend these poetical revivals;
but the fact I have been obliged to confess, of the dull,
utilitarian nature of the “ignorant present,” withholds me
from dealing as much as I could wish in the poetical illustra-
tions of my early Gazettes, even before the wonderful genius
of L. E. L. arose to adorn it. In truth, I must claim a
small share of Appendix for those in whom I hope the love
of poetry is not yet extinct—the young, the sensitive, the
imaginative, the natural, the refined, the tasteful, the inno-
cent, and the good. For all these must love poetry in spite
of the overpowering mass of mere worldly grubs.”
In November this year, Mr. Mudford, already mentioned
as the author of several important works, and for a number
of years the able editor of the “Courier,” after Stuart and
* Appendix.
POETs; PoETRY-AUTHORs; ARTISTS-A PATRON. 257
Street had departed from it, the former to rank and station,
the latter to poverty and its concomitant oblivion, published
an extraordinary charge of piracy against Walter Scott,
no reply to which that I am aware of was ever given.
Mr. Mudford asserted, that of the “Border Antiquities of
England and Scotland,” two vols. Quarto, published in the
name of Scott as the entire author, very nearly half was
written by himself. He stated that after having completed
the first volume, certain circumstances induced him to
relinquish the work, which Scott completed, and when it
came out in an entire form (for it came out originally
in quarterly parts) had his name placed on the title-page as
author of the whole, without any intimation to the contrary,
in any part of the introductory matter, and Mr. Mudford
tells a whimsical anecdote of critical penetration connected
with this strange story. During the time the work was pub-
lishing in detached parts, it was reviewed in one of the most
respectable monthly journals, which, misled no doubt by the
nature of the subject, confidently affirmed, from the internal
evidence of the style, that it was from the pen of Walter
Scott ; and when it afterwards appeared with his name, the
said reviewer reminded his readers with no little exultation,
of the accuracy of his previous judgment. Yet at the time
it was thus gratuitously assigned to the pen of Scott, he
had not written a line of it ! Another critic, yet more mis-
taken, in reviewing the book, selected most of his felicitous
specimens of Scott's style from the portion of it written by
Mudford
About this period a slight acquaintance with Sir John
Leicester, afterwards the first Lord De Tabley, grew into a
greater degree of intimacy; and thence matured into one of
the most gratifying sources of pleasure and friendship which
gave happiness to many days of my chequered life. The
WOL. II. S
258 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
opening of his Gallery of Native Artists in Hill Street,
Berkeley Square, in the spring of 1818, showed but a
portion of the princely munificence and refined taste with
which he had set the noble example of patronage to British
art. But there was more than enough to excite my warmest
admiration, which I as warmly expressed ; and on farther
intercourse, the accomplished possessor of these treasures,
liberally supposing that my knowledge was equal to my love
of the fine arts, made me, to the hour on which I had to
mourn his loss, a cherished guest in his delightful circle,
whenever my occupation enabled me to partake of that
enjoyment. Tabley House, with its lovely and charming
mistress, the Hope of Lawrence's unflattering portrait; its
elegant refinements unstudied and unformal ; its splendid
collection of superb paintings, the owner of which was an
amateur artist of extraordinary talent ; its stores of curious
literary lore, the relics of Sir Peter Leicester the Historian
of Cheshire; its fishing, its shooting, its otter hunting,
and its ceaseless round of healthful exercise and intellectual
converse, was indeed an earthly paradise to one who was so
much the slave of the pen as I was. But in one other spot
did I ever revel in similar and supreme enjoyments, and
when I come to write of Drummond Castle, I trust I may
describe, without offending the privacy of life, some of the
scenes of perfect human happiness in which I have been
welcomed to participate there.
Lord de Tabley was the surest shot I ever saw in the
field. His piece was rarely raised but to kill; and twenty
snipes in succession have fallen in proof of his accuracy of
aim. And with the pistol he was still more wonderful.
The head of a swallow peeping over a cornice of the old
tower was a sufficient object for a bullet about the size of a
pea. A wagtail hopping and clipping on the lawn was a
LORD DE TABLEY. 259
gone bird if I asked for another specimen of skill ; though
he was out of practice since the time he fired for a wager of
a thousand guineas laid upon him by the Prince Regent, the
evidence of the winning of which bet was testified by a card
with two holes in the centre resembling the ace of clubs,
and which had been perforated in that way at the duelling
distance of twelve paces. He would have stood a poor
chance in a duel who ventured to meet Lord de Tabley.
The loading of the pistol was a bit of minute science which
amused me... The gunpowder was carefully measured in a
ramrod with a funnel-end to receive it, and smoothed off by
a fine card ; the pistol was inverted over this, and being
reversed, every particle was deposited in the breach. The
rest of the loading was equally precise, and as his Lordship
never missed, I was brought to the conclusion that three or
four of the finest grains of powder, more or less, made all
the difference in hitting or missing.
In the course of my narrative I shall remember other
traits of my excellent friend ; but for the present must be
content with relating two incidental anecdotes. I was on a
visit to Tabley House, when the letter was received from
the Prince Regent intimating his royal pleasure to raise
Sir John to the peerage, and requesting him to choose the
title. This was a voluntary act of the Sovereign, and
altogether unsought and unexpected by Sir John ; who had,
however, as I gathered, done good service to his Royal
Highness when labouring under pecuniary embarrassment.
We held a convocation on the grand question of title, for
Sir John had so many genealogical quarterings in his arms
as to render the selection a matter of difficulty. I was
strenuous for “De Warrenne,” or “Warren,” to which the
claim stood on high heraldic basis; but Sir John said he
would be contented with the date of Edward III., instead
S 2
260 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
of the Conquest, and De Tabley was the result.* On his
father's death the present peer, my much esteemed friend
by descent, and affectionate feeling from the days of his
boyhood, prefixed the name of Warren to De Tabley; and
I cannot help thinking that the conversation at the period I
am describing must have dwelt upon his mind, and led to
this assumption. -
My other anecdote is not of so agreeable a kind. On
one occasion, Turner, our prince of landscape painters, of
whom Lord de Tabley had been a most liberal patron,
spent a day or two at Tabley when I was there. In the
drawing-room stood a landscape on an easel, on which his
lordship was at work as the fancy mood struck him.
Of course, when assembled for the tedious half hour be"ore
dinner, we all gave our opinions on its progress, its beauties,
and its defects. I stuck a blue wafer on to show where I
thought a bit of bright colour or a light would be advan-
tageous; and Turner took the brush and gave a touch here
and there to mark some improvements. He returned to
town, and, can it be credited the next morning at break-
fast a letter from him was delivered to his lordship, con-
taining a regular bill of charges for “Instructions in paint-
ing.” His Lordship tossed it across the table indignantly to
me, and asked if I could have imagined such a thing;
and as indignantly, against my remonstrances, immediately
sent a cheque for the sum demanded by the “Drawing
Master | ?”
This was a deplorable instance of Turner's eccentricity,
and not to be excused on any imaginable ground. Yet some-
times he was lavish in the midst of his general penuriousness.
* From his Lordship's distinguished patronage of painting, some wag
said it was appropriate De Tableaux, at which left-handed compliment we
had a good laugh.
THE LATE MR. TURNER, R.A. 261
On a continental trip, an intimate friend of mine, Mr.
Thomas Hunt, author of several valuable volumes on Tudor
architecture, accidentally encountered him on a con-
tinental excursion. Turner took a fancy to so excellent
a boon companion, invited him to travel together, and
treated him in a princely style, without costing him a shilling
through the whole of their tour.
I would fain offer this fact as a sort of balance to the
human infirmity of the Drawing Master account: Turner
was a singular compound.
262 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
CHAPTER XIX.
—6–
PETER PINDAR.
He could distinguish and divide
A hair 'twixt south and south-west side ;
On either which he would dispute,
Confute, change hands, and still confute.
He’d undertake to prove, by force
Of argument, a Man no Horse.
He’d prove a Buzzard is no fowl,
And that a Lord may be an Owl;
A Calf an Alderman—a Goose a Justice,
And Rooks Committee-men and Trustees.
All this, by syllogism, true
In mood and figure, he would do !!!
BUTLER’s Hudibras.
As my remarks on Peter Pindar, and the anecdote
respecting his pension, which I related on the high and
I should say unquestionable authority of the late Lord
Farnborough, in my first volume, have excited some con-
troversy, a few pages devoted to the clearing up of that
affair, and establishing the character which I am so anxious
my work should have for accuracy, will not be out of
place here. A writer in the “Athenaeum ” having pertly
impeached the veracity of the account, though the attack
was hardly worth notice, I addressed the editor of
that journal, who immediately inserted my letter, as
follows:—
PETER PINDAR. 263
“PETER PINDAR.
“Under this head, a correspondent in your last number
has commented on the anecdote respecting Peter Pindar in
my first volume of literary memoirs. Will you permit me
to offer a few words in reply 2 I did not say, as ‘Young
Mortality' has put it into my mouth, that ‘Peter Pindar
was a great rascal: '—nor did I allege that “he taught the
public to believe that George the Good was a simpleton or a
fool, only because the Government refused to avail them-
selves of his services, or, in other words, to give him
a bribe.’ These words are his, not mine. I merely
related what I heard from a most honourable and distin-
guished man, whose letter on the subject to me I quoted,
and which stated that Peter's representative had offered
support to the Government for a consideration, and that
Peter claimed that consideration for being silent and
desisting from his caricatures of the King. For aught else,
I have nothing to state. Your correspondent's suppositions
and reasoning may safely be left to themselves; and his
avoidance of any answer to the notorious, and not more
creditable, ruse which Peter played upon the publishers,—
and which I related on the authority of living parties, may,
I presume, settle this controversy. Will you permit me
only to add, that I have undertaken my Autobiography in
anticipation of a posthumous date, principally in order that
anything which I state that is doubtful might be ques-
tioned, and anything erroneous contradicted whilst yet there
are witnesses of the highest character in being who can
vouch for my statements, however startling some of them
may appear ! Truth as regards myself and others is my
sole object. “I am, &c.,
“ W. JERDAN.”
264 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
A much more respectable doubter of my statements,
however, appeared in the same paper; and my old friend
and fellow labourer in literature, Mr. Cyrus Redding (one of
the earliest contributors to the “Literary Gazette” in prose
and verse), attached his signature to the annexed letter:—
“St. John's Wood, May 17.
“In your number of the 8th instant some anecdotes
respecting Peter Pindar (Dr. Wolcot) are extracted from
the Autobiography of Mr. Jerdan. A previous knowledge
of the Doctor by my family induced me, when I came a
youth to London, to visit him. From the close of 1805,
down to the time of his death in 1819, I spent an evening
weekly when I was in London at his house. I remember
his sisters also, who were alive in 1813. Mr. Jerdan is not
correct in his statements. The facts of his alleged trick on
the publishers are these :—Wolcot's works having a pro-
digious sale, Walker the bookseller was deputed by some of
the trade to offer the Doctor a sum of money, or an annuity,
for the copyright of them all. The Doctor chose the
annuity of 250l. He had suffered all his life from asthma,
but less in his latter years than before. A fit was on him on
the day when Walker called about the business, and the
bibliopolist went away, and told (I think) his wife, that the
Doctor could not live long, and it might soon be too late to
conclude the bargain. The Doctor heard of this, and when
Walker came with the draft of the document, he coughed
‘double time,’ on purpose to play off the joke upon him,
and the bookseller naturally hurried through the business.
The Doctor used to repeat the anecdote as a good joke
against the booksellers. He was not in a “dying condition.’
He never “wiped the chalk off his face,’ which, with his
mahogany complexion, chalk would hardly have whitened,—
PETER PINDAR. 265
nor did he ‘dance out of the room,'—neither had he “one
foot in the grave.” He used, after he was eighty years of
age, to say in jest that he had got the best of the bargain
with the bibliopolists, living so many years more than they
reckoned on, and always concluded by speaking of his
cough. He was a man far above such a trick as chalking
his face to entrap those with whom he dealt. In money
affairs he was scrupulous. He was one of the most open,
candid men that ever lived,—fond of a joke, and making
one sometimes out of little.—The anecdote of the pension,
as told by Mr. Jerdam, is equally erroneous. I had the
previous story from his own lips. Wolcot came from
Cornwall to London about 1782. He began to write soon
afterwards,-and the King's first fit of illness occurred in
1789, and lasted but a short time. The second attack
was in 1811. Wolcot wrote little or nothing worth
mentioning after the latter year. The “laudable anxiety of
Ministers’ to protect the King by pensioning Peter Pindar
thus falls to the ground,-though it is true the statement is
very generally made. The truth is, Peter did not offer
his assistance to the Government. Mr. Jerdan contradicts
himself. If the pension was offered to prevent annoyance
to the King, it could hardly have been granted to Peter on
his own solicitation | All the world knows that Charles II.
bade a writer, legally attached for a lampoon, to abuse him,
and then the ministers would not trouble themselves about
his diatribes. Peter was more bitter against the ministry
than against the King. He told too many truths of them.
He disliked Pitt, whom he deemed a renegade from his
father's principles, and a tacit libeller of his memory. The
first Pitt was the Doctor's hero, and his first verses were
written to that Mr. Pitt, ‘On his recovery from a fit of the
gout.’ These verses were published in ‘Martin's Magazine’
266 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
about 1756, and are dated from Fowey in Cornwall. His
praises of Chatham were unbounded :—his dislike of the
son was proportional. Peter was offered a pension more
than once, but he could not be a dependant and write for
the Government. The last time the offer was made he was
depressed in mind and in circumstances. He had thought
of retiring into Cornwall, and giving up his pen. This was
not known to the Treasury, but it so happened that an
offer of a pension was renewed at that very time. Peter
was not to write for the Government, and he stipulated that
he would not write against it. Mr. Yorke was the go-
between, if I recollect rightly. Peter finally agreed to
write no more articles on political personages—in fact, to
keep silent about the Ministry. A pension of 300l. per
annum was to be his. He had received the first quarter's
allowance but a few days, when, in the temper of those
times, a messenger from the Treasury called and hoped, now
the Doctor saw the Ministry were in earnest, he would use
his pen on their side. “You know the stipulation was to be
my silence,” said the Doctor indignantly, “I’ll be d d if
I will write for you ; I won't be a prostitute, go and tell
this to your Ministers.’ It happened that a sum of money
about which the Doctor had been depressed in mind from
his hopelessness of obtaining it, was paid over to him. He
at once enclosed back the amount which he had received
from the Treasury. “Peter can live without a pension' was
the result. So began and ended the pension affair, as
related by himself—I will trespass upon your space by an
anecdote which has not been told, out of many that I know
of this remarkable man. The Prince of Wales always had
slips of the Doctor's works from the printer, while they
were in the press. When he became Prince Regent, a
messenger was sent to the Doctor to know what the Prince
PETER PINDAR. 267
was indebted to him for the proof slips. None had been
sent for years, because the Doctor had not written any-
thing worth sending. “I thought it a sufficient honour that
the Prince read my works in that way. I never expected
to be insulted by such a demand so long afterwards,” said
Wolcot. “My orders are peremptory, Doctor,’ replied the
messenger.—“I have nothing to do with my writings now,
nor with money transactions relating to them. You must
go to Walker the bookseller.” The messenger went, the
Doctor instructing Walker to make out a regular tradesman's
bill for the Prince Regent, to the farthing, and give a
regular receipt for the sum when paid. Some little time
afterwards the messenger called on the Doctor with a fifty-
pound note, the account being forty odd pounds and some
shillings, ‘The change was of no consequence.’ The
Doctor despatched the messenger to Walker again—saying
he would not have the Prince's money. It was a trading
affair on both sides, and he must go to the traders. “Was
not this very pretty ?” said Wolcot ; ‘the Prince had my
squibs about his father to read openly at his own table, and
then fearing that I may blab the fact, now he is become
Viceroy, he thinks if he pays me for the rags all will be
right.' Weltje, of the Prince's household, supplied the
Doctor with materials for many of his squibs. The tale of
the shaving of the royal cooks originated in a fact. The
order was given, but withdrawn. It was founded on an
accident of a trivial character, which Wolcot altered and
made the subject of one of the richest comic poems in any
language, exalting the insect hero—
“‘To draw of deep astronomers the ken,
The Georgium Sidus of the sons of men.”
“I am, &c.,
“CYRUS REDDING.”
268 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
Mr. Redding's version of the trick played off upon the
publishers, by which Wolcot got and enjoyed for many
years an annuity of 250l., differs only in a few unimportant
details of colouring from mine. The Doctor thought it a
good joke, and so it was for him ; but the bibliopolists
thought it a swindle; and whether he only coughed double
time, or chalked his face, and pretended by other symptoms
to be in a dying state (I didn't say that he was really so,
but the reverse), is of no consequence whatever to the truth
of the allegation. &
With regard to the pension, the story of which Mr.
Redding had “from his own lips,” I must say that I place
greater confidence in the statement of Lord Farnborough,
who had no private or personal interest in the business,
than I repose in the version of the Coughing Doctor.
With regard to the circumstantial evidence about the
King—that as Pindar came to town in 1782, and his
Majesty's first illness occurred in 1809, and the second in
1811, after which he wrote little or nothing worth men-
tioning, his attacks could not be desired to be silenced in
order to prevent annoyance to the King and royal family—
whether Peter was more bitter against the Ministry than
against the King matters little, seeing that he was bitter
enough against the latter to lampoon and ridicule him in
every possible way, and even to dedicate a whole volume,
viz., the mock-heroic poem of the “Lousiad,” in four cantos,
to that especial object. His hostility to the sovereign was
imputed, I know not how truly, to some slight he fancied
had been offered to his protégé Opie, with whom he soon
after fiercely quarrelled and violently abused, which the
artist returned by caricaturing him as a parsimonious bear,
saving fuel by putting lumps of dried Thames mud upon
his fire. I do not therefore see any inconsistency in the
PETER PINDAR. 269
anecdote that Ministers sought to protect the King from
annoyance by pensioning Peter ; though I will, in justice,
allow that, subsequently to the melancholy circumstance
of 1788-9, I am not aware of his having published any-
thing injurious to the august sufferer under that calamity.
In the poem entitled “Peter's Pension, a Solemn Epistle
to a Sublime Personage,” it is somewhat curious that,
between jest and earnest, he coquettes with the subject,
and intimates his willingness to be pensioned. Whether
the Treasury spoke upon this hint, I cannot tell, but I
think it very likely that it did : and in this sense, and by
this method, the poet absolutely did offer himself to be
treated with by the government, which received the
inuendo exactly in the manner it was meant—being more
than met the ear.
The story of Mr. Yorke coming with the quarterly
pension then due is so utterly incredible that I am sur-
prised a gentleman of Mr. Redding's experience could repeat
it. I believe that he did receive and keep two quarters’
salary, and that it was the third quarter he rejected from
Lord Farnborough (then Mr. Long), when, as he alleged,
he was asked to lend his active co-operation to Ministers.
At least he told the anecdote in this way to others, though
he got up a more striking version for Mr. Redding.
But even according to his defender, although he said he
would be d d rather than be a prostitute, I cannot so
clearly perceive the vast difference between selling your
silence (“muzzling his muse,” as he expressed it) and
writing for hire. The man who would consent to the one
could hardly be so indignant at being asked for his sweet
voice for the other. On the whole, I trust I have sustained
the accuracy of my story; and when I remember the
honourable and immaculate character of the amiable and
270 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
accomplished statesman from whom I received my informa-
tion, I cannot hesitate a moment in giving it my entire belief.
The quarrel between Dr. Wolcot and Mr. William
Gifford, which has also been brought upon the tapis,
together with the terrible castigation inflicted upon the
former by a satirist of tenfold greater powers, (in the eighth
edition of the “Baviad and Maeviad,”) made much noise at
the time. Wolcot, in a state of excitement helped on by
liquor, mistook Mr. William for Mr. John Gifford (noticed
in a preceding chapter), who had criticised him severely in
the “Anti-Jacobin Review” (William was editor of the witty
“Anti-Jacobin ‘’ newspaper), and assaulted him furiously in
Mr. Wright's shop. The party assailed, however, snatched
the cane out of the assailant's hands and belaboured him
with it till he was pushed out of doors; a punishment not a
hundredth part so painful and ill to endure as was the
withering “Life of Peter Pindar,” which endorsed the
castigation:—
But what is he, that, with a Mohawk's air,
“Cries Havoc, and lets slip the dogs of war P”
A bloated mass, a gross, blood-battered clod,
A foe to man, a renegade to God ;
From noxious childhood, to pernicious age,
Separate to infamy in every stage.
Cornwall remembers yet his first employ,
And, shuddering, tells with what infernal joy
His little tongue in blasphemies was loosed,
His little hands in deeds of horror used;
While mangled insects strewed his cradle o'er,
And limbs of birds distained his bib with gore,
Anon, on stronger animals he flew,
For with his growth his savage passions grew;
And oft, what time his violence fail'd to kill,
He mix’d the insidious dose with wicked skill;
Saw, with wild joy, in pangs till then untriad,
Cats—dogs—expire, and cursed them as they died.”
* Wolcot was brought up as a surgeon.
PETER PINDAR. 271
With riper years a different scene began,
And his hate turn’d from animals to man:
Then, letters—libels—flew on secret wings,
And wide around infixed their venom'd stings.
All fear'd, where none could ward the coming blow,
And each man eyed his neighbour as his foe;
Till, dragg'd to-day, the lurking caitiff stood—
The accursed cause of many a fatal feud—
And begg'd for mercy in so sad a strain,
So wept, so trembled, that the injured train—
Who, crawling at their feet, a miscreant saw,
Too mean for punishment, too poor for law—
O'erlook’d ('twas all they could) his numerous crimes,
And shipp'd him off “to ape and monkey climes.”
There, while the negroes viewed, with strong disgust,
This prodigy of drunkenness and lust
Explore the darkest cells, the dirtiest styes,
And roll in filth at which their gorge would rise,
He play’d one master-trick to crown the whole,
And took, oh Heavens, the sacerdotal stole !
How shook the altar when he first drew near,
Hot from debauch, and with a shameless leer,
Pour’d stammering forth the yet unhallow'd prayers,
Mix'd with convulsive sobs and noisome airs |
Then rose the people, passive now no more,
And from his limbs the sacred vestments tore;
Dragged him with groans, shouts, hisses, to the main,
And sent him to annoy these realms again.i.
False fugitive back to thy vomit flee
Troll the lascivious song, the fulsome glee;
Truck praise for lust, hunt infant genius down,
Strip modest merit of its last half-crown;
Blow from thy mildewed lips, on Virtue blow,
And blight the goodness thou canst never know.
Lo, here the wrinkled profligateſ who stands
On nature's verge, and, from his lep’rous hands,
Shakes tainted verse ; who bids us, with the price
Of ranc’rous falsehoods, pander to his vice.
Give him to live the future as the past,
And in pollution wallow to the last !
* Went to Jamaica as a physician, when about thirty years of age, but
finding the emoluments less than he expected, entered into holy orders,
and for some time held a curacy in the island.
+ I am afraid that his conversation and habits afforded the writer too
much ground for this appalling portraiture. He was wont to swear
272 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
I have mentioned the kindly interest taken by Lord
Buchan at my outset with the “Gazette,” and his intro-
duction of it, and its editor, to the notice of M. Millin and
other French literati and savans. His Lordship was a
remarkable character, and, like all the noble race of Erskine
whom I have known, had a dash of that peculiar eccentricity
about him which is not only allied to genius, but to the
blood of certain Scottish families, from generation to gene-
ration. In my boyhood I had been a spectator of an
anniversary meeting of the gentry around, founded by his
Lordship to do honour to the memory of the Poet of the
Seasons. It was held at Ednam, his birth-place, and in a
small cottage on the Eden, much frequented by anglers,
who, like myself, delighted in the sylvan beauties and
admirable trout of that pastoral stream, which, from child-
hood to manhood, was my favourite haunt. I had my
bluff and hearty uncle there too, and a few lively female
cousins, who had often as young and fair and lively friends
with them. I presume that they added to the attractions
of the water, and the scenery, and the fish ; and I beg it
to be remarked, that such combinations are very seductive
to youthful fishers. And then they were so good-natured :
I have shot to them alone, during half a hot September
day, and never was better pleased with any pointers, how-
ever well broken-in (which they were not) and stanch, which
they were, though not particularly steady. By the by, I
have been writing a great deal about poets in my later
pages, but I am not aware that it ever occurred to any of
them to paint the difference between loves in the country
coarsely, and speak most irreverently and profanely on religious subjects:
as, for instance, it was told of him, in his curacy at Vere, that he would
jocularly say that he offered up prayers to the Holy Trinity in the morn-
ing, and amused himself by shooting at the Holy Ghost (wood-pigeons, so
called in the West Indies) in the afternoon.
LOVE IN TOWN AND COUNTRY. 273
and loves in town. I speak of innocent little loves, from
the almost indefinable, upwards to the very wildest of hobble-
de-hoyism and bread-and-butterism. In the country, it is all
in harmony. You meet in a shady lane, or a leafy copse,
or under a trysting tree, or at the corner of the well-hedged
field, or among the new-mown hay, or by the rustic church,
or in the garden, or in the meadow, or anywhere rural,
and it seems all so natural, as love must be bound to spring
and grow there. And the air is so sweet, and the murmur
of insect-life so chastening, and the song of birds so charm-
ing, and the harmony of the grove so fascinating, and
the scent of flowers so refreshing, and the low of kine
so composing, and everything so blandly conspiring to fill
the breast with delicious sentiment, that it was really very
enjoyable—fifty years ago. For, even if
“All the young maidens were blackbirds and thrushes,
Oh, would not the young men go beating the bushes?”
But turn to the dismal town : what has love to do there?
What lane would you wish to meet your sweetheart in (though
there are Love Lanes, and a Little Love Lane, besides a Lad
Lane, in the City) 2 What street, from Wapping to Cheap-
side 2 What square ; Blooms-bury or Soho ? Near what
hospital; Bethlem or the Penitentiary ? Under what tree ;
the one in Wood Street, or the other in St. Paul's Church-
yard “as used to be "? By what church, except St. Bride,
Cripplegate, or St. Sepulchre ? In what garden; the Beastly
Surrey, or the Brutal Zoological ? In what field, Spital
or Moor? Among what hay; Hay Hill or the Haymarket?
At what corner; Hyde Park or Amen 2 Alas! it is all the
same; the pastoral country is for loves, the city for such loves
as business affords leisure for, and those but queer? Then,
as for the congenial sounds, you have insect life enough to
WOL. II. T
274 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
murmur at ; for the songs of birds, the songs of ballad-
singers; for the harmony of groves, the clangour of brass
bands; for the scent of flowers, the smell of drains ; for
the low of kine, the groans of cattle Smithfield bound—the
whole forming such a conspiracy of outrageous noise, that
one must have a mind similar to the stomach of an ostrich,
and capable of digesting everything, before an idea of love
can enter into the antagonistically-crowded precincts. But
what a way this love episode has been carrying us from
Ednam, Thomson, Lord Buchan, the angler's pet resort,
and the anniversary. That cottage was kept by the Widow
Spinks. It had, at any rate, two apartments, “a but and
a ben” (contractions, as I take it, à la “Diversions of
Purley,” for a be out and a be in, viz., an outer and inner
room); and these the Widow Spinks kept so perfectly
clean, that you might have eaten your dinner off the floor, if
it had not been sanded, and drank your tipple out of the pans
and kettles, if there had not been bickers and horns. There
was not a speck of dust to be discovered under the roof, even
by an exciseman, if he had gone on a special mission to
ascertain if there should be any whiskey on the premises,
which Mistress Spinks had no license to retail, being
only eligible for beer from the adjacent brewery; and
therefore could, with infinite consternation, oblige a wet and
well-approved piscator, now and then (when he needed it),
with a glass from her own little bottle for her own little use.
It was here that the Earl of Buchan set up his tent for
the Thomson anniversaries ; and they were really most
interesting ; they made me, a young boy, who had nothing
more to do than to hear about them, and see my father
and others going to them, a student of the poet, and his
cordial admirer through life, even to throw (as in my vol. i.
Appendix) some light upon his memory.
THE EARLIEST EDUCATION. 275
As having viewed most things with literary tastes, appe-
tites, and habits, I would pause here for a momentary
commonplace, which cannot, however, be too often urged
upon the consideration of teachers and parents. The effect
upon children and youth, observant of every word, look,
and motion of those to whom they look up from affection or
custom, is the grand rule and principle to be thought of in
education. Without attention to this, all precepts and
preachings and punishments are of small avail; and the
easy overleaping of trouble, by bribing with rewards for
conduct which ought to be good without, or hypocrisy
taught to simulate deserving, is of all subterfuges the worst.
The impressions stamped upon juvenile years are immortal;
a mere trifle makes a future gentleman or a blackguard,
an intellectual being or an ignorant ruffian, an honour or a
pest to society and human nature | Apparently trifling
incidents give a colour to a life ; we cannot be fully and
prophetically aware of the consequences, nor would they
always follow if we were ; but I have witnessed such
dominant and lasting results flow from such matters as the
Thomson anniversary, a school examination, or a mere
conversation at a father's table, that I would just like to
leave my idea on the world, that—except one thing, a fine
moral and religious up-bringing—there is nothing on this
earth which merits more sedulous study than the force of
actual example upon the future direction of the youthful
mind and conduct. It is this which makes the mother's
first teaching so imperishable.
But Lord Buchan : he had his oddities; and these, I am
afraid, put a premature end to the Thomson anniversaries
at my darling Widow Spinks's ; very much “seconded” as
they were by the general apathy of the surrounding squire-
archy and wealthy farmers, whose seasons agricultural
T 2
276 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
had little sympathy with his “Seasons” poetical. If the
generality in the present day have not really got more of
interest in such matters, at least they pretend to it more,
and that serves on many occasions to keep the taper
lighted, which was allowed to go into snuff in this instance,
which so much awakened my imagination.
Lord Buchan was scholarly, gentlemanly, and estimable ;
but his whimsicalities, as all such things are ill understood
and ill-balanced by the commonalty around, procured him
the erroneous repute of being systematically what he only
was erratically. Thus, for a season, his lordship's neigh-
bour, Haig of Bemerside (see preceding volume), received
from his spacious dove-cot pie-pigeons enow for weeks
together, to spare the plentiful Bemerside larder from the
neck-wringing of some fowls, if not the murder of muttons.
Haig was rather distressed at this profusion, but was
relieved at Christmas, when a regular poulterer's bill was
sent in—“— Haig, Esq., to the Earl of Buchan. Thirty
dozen of pigeons, at 2s. 6d. per dozen, sum total 3!. 15s.,”
which Haig gladly paid ; but it made a story, and most
probably the whole arose from some member of the
Bemerside family having said to an upper servant of
Lord Buchan's, “I wish we could get some of your super-
abundant pigeons at the price we should pay (if we
could get them) in Edinburgh or Kelso.” Of such mate-
rials are characters often made out, without a knowledge
of all facts, and without the powers of discrimination.
Princes, ministers, private individuals, and all — all are
liable to the same sort of misinterpretation. I had a
warm regard and cause to be grateful to Lord Buchan,
for he was one of my youthful encouragers, and that was
an honour then.
With Henry Erskine, his brother in Edinburgh, it never
THE ERSKINE FAMILY. 277
was my good fortune to meet, though I knew one or more
of his sons (?). His brilliant wit furnished glorious and
congenial anecdotes to the society of the Scottish metropolis,
such as it then was ; and I could, if such things were now
allowable in our more refined, and in language more
decorous, era, repeat some of his admirable sallies. It
may be some comfort to the free and easy jesters of years
to come, that they will have no need to invoke perdition on
their antecedents for forestalling them, as change of manners
has left the whole territory, as far as printing is concerned,
as if it had never been occupied. Henry Erskine and
Lady Wallace, and all the racy jests of their gay pastime,
are as if they had never been, sic transit facetiae mundi /
Quaint turns often baffle the skill of the lawyer. On a
trial for the murder of an excise officer, an old rogue of a
town carrier was giving evidence in favour of the smugglers
where the affray ended so fatally. He swore that “a wee
bit of a pistol was held up merely to frighten the officer,”
when Erskine produced a huge horse pistol, to overwhelm
the witness, and triumphantly asked him if that was the
sort of engine merely to frighten people. “I dinna ken,”
was the answer; “some folks, like you, are easily frightened.”
The laugh gave the smugglers a chance, and the Border
jury, who had no horror of smuggling, gave them the
benefit of it.
Thomas, Lord Chancellor Erskine, was decidedly one of
the family. His poem in favour of the crows (see a pre-
ceding page), was a conclusive proof of it. At his retire-
ment, Buchan Hill, on the road to Brighton, where he
bought an estate, the chief produce of which was birch to
make brooms, (and a large manufactory thereof was esta-
blished on the property), the natural history question
respecting the livelihood of rooks arose, on a farmer's
278 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
complaint, and his lordship investigated the subject with
his accustomed legal acumen and curiosity. The Chancellor
decided in favour of the rooks and rookery, and delivered
his judgment in verse, for private circulation. On a view of
the case, he declares—
“Instant this solemn oath I took :
No hand shall rise against a Rook.”
The reasoning by which this judgment is supported I
need not quote, having given my readers a good dose of
law already ; and especially as I am not quite convinced
that all the Chancellor's argument would be backed by
Yarrell or Waterhouse. A solitary, honest, and repentant
wireworm, the last of millions, left sole monarch of all he
surveyed, in consequence of the extirpation of his nation by
the rooks, is the most pointed evidence in favour of
rookeries, and, as wireworms seldom talk, its moralising for
the benefit of Lord Erskine's argument is really instructive.
“Farewell ! ” the wireworm exclaims to his lordship—
“Farewell for I have lived a day,
And from this world must haste away.”
(His lordship's famed wireworms were ephemeral | ?)
“Enjoy your longer, higher, life,
Set free, at last, from hourly strife.
Rush not into the toils again,
Nor wealth nor honours to attain.
IIere happier prospects you may see;
Your guardian spirit speaks through me.
(Bravo, Wireworm 1)
“”Tis not to us was reason given,
(A dangerous confession, when advising)
“Nor speech, by all-disposing Heaven.
Those ampler powers, and form divine,
Image of God, are only thine.
LORD ERSKINE. 279
(Accomplished flatterer Wiry must have heard of his
lordship's humble confession—“I know I am a little lower
than an angel.”)
“Yon radiant angel, still in view,
Was once a mortal man, Like You.”
And so wireworm, interpleader, settled the plea in
Farmer versus Rook.
Of Lord Erskine's eloquence when at the bar there were
frequent celebrated displays, and of his sparkling wit
never-ending examples. The bar is indeed the patent field
for such exercise of talent. Many causes offer fine oppor-
tunities for impressive oratory, and occasions for humorous
remark constantly present themselves. For instance, it
was told of Erskine, that on Garrow's pressing his exami-
nation of a stiff and wiry witness of a certain age, in order
to prove a tender of money, he wrote on a slip of paper
and passed to the examiner—
“Garrow, forbear! that tough old jade
Will never ‘prove a tender made.’”
I am not sure that the following lines on a florid pleader
in face and speech (Serjeant Cockell), who was flushed with
the heat of a long argument, are his ; but they are worthy
of him, and noting here :—
“The Serjeant see, with face on fire,
And all the Court may rue it;
His purple garments come from Tyre—
His arguments go to it.”
Lord Erskine's advice to a young lawyer, now an eminent
judge, was, “read Blackstone till you are sick of it,” and
then “aw reste, learn law at the expense of my clients;”
i.e. do as I have done in learning law at the expense of your
280 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
clients' His Lordship never could be made to believe in
the excellence of Searlett (afterwards Lord Abinger), though
he could not deny his business. Lord Erskine left the bar
in 1806, and Scarlett was made K.C. in 1816, and instantly
became the greatest leader of Common Law. About a
year after, Erskine asked a friend of mine, who was at the
head 2 and being answered “Scarlett,” replied, “Oh, I
know Scarlett very well, it can't be.” Their genius and
excellence were of such diametrically opposite kinds; that
the one could not estimate the other : and we ought to
bear such things in mind when we listen to the opinions
even of the most gifted men, when speaking of others
differently constituted and yet as gifted as themselves.
LORD MUNSTER. 281
CHAPTER XX.
-º---
LORD MUNSTER ; LORD MELBOURNE; WASHINGTON
IRWING.
For a moment or two he stood
On the shore of the mighty wood;
Then ventured out
With a bounding heart, and a joyful shout,
The brave sky bending o'er him—
The broad sea all before him
Birth of a Poet, by John NEAL, American.
Yankee Doodle’s come to town
Clever Yankee Doodle !
AN autobiographer being, like a peacock, the hero of his
own tale, may be pardoned for the hope that he has created
or may create some interest in the beholders, by the spread
and rustling of his shivering quills. In my case, especially
in this volume, the analogy holds tolerably together ; for
though the bird displays a perfect shower of radiant Suns,
and I have had only one of a fog-covered appearance to
exhibit, yet there is Sun in both cases, and that is enough
for any fanciful resemblance. The similitude is at least as
good as that between Macedon and Monmouth, as both
began with M.
The “Literary Gazette” continued to improve in circu-
lation, and to be more and more appreciated by persons
282 AN AUTOBIOGRAPIIY.
eminent in literature, friends of literature and art, and
youthful aspirants to literary honours. The consequence
was that I greatly enlarged my circle of connections with
the élite of society; and from mere introductory acquain-
tances founded intimate attachments which lasted for many
years; too many of them closed, as time flew on, by the
last severation of all human ties. Among the number I
may reckon Colonel Fitzclarence, Earl Munster, to whom I
had the pleasure to lend the slight assistance which his
want of practice rendered expedient, in preparing for and
conducting through the press, his interesting “Journal of a
Route across India, through Egypt, to England.” This was
an epoch in the life of the author. The gay young dragoon
officer had turned from empty fashion, Almack's and St.
James's—with the highest facilities and temptations to
continue a course of such enjoyments—to become an acute
observer, a lover of books, an able and interesting writer, a
new man. Nor was the promise of this work disappointed.
To the unhappy termination of his life, Lord Munster devoted
much of his time to studious reading, and distinguished
himself not only as the patron of learned and useful societies,
such as the Oriental, Geographical, R. S. of Literature, and
others, but occupied himself in preparing historical matter
for publication, especially an account of the Free Bands of
Military Adventurers in the Middle Ages, and Memoirs of
the Turkish Empire, the MS. of which I have looked over,
and have to express my sincere regret that nothing has
been done with them since his lamented death.* It was my
good fortune to be often with him, and to receive him as
a guest in my own dwelling, where his open manner and
e * * &
* His observations on the employment of Mahommedan mercenaries
in the Christian armies. Paris : Journal Asiatique, 56 Cahier (February,
1827), is a fair example of what the larger work would be.
LORD MUNSTER. 283
perfect good humour endeared him to every one who met
him. On one occasion when I not only enjoyed the honour
of his company, but that of the Earl of Mulgrave (now
Marquis of Normanby), both having recently been advanced
to higher titles, the one from Baron to Earl, the other
to a peerage, there was for a short, while a faint trace of
formality between them as they addressed each other,
“milording” it; at length the cheerful champagne did its
duty; and one exclaimed, “I do wish you would not
milord me in this manner; why don't you call me • George,’
as you used to do ?” “Well then, and why don't you
call me “Henry ?’” A laugh followed this amusing inter-
lude of arcades ambo ; but the bargain was struck, and
to the end of the evening nothing more of lords was
heard but George and Henry It was years after this,
when political jealousies were rife, and it was whispered
that Lord Munster visited the Duke of Wellington, early
at morn, relating to certain negotiations then supposed to .
be on the tapis, when one day Lord Mulgrave took me
aside to show me an anonymous letter about my friend (as
he was courteous enough to call him), and asked my opinion
about it. It was disguised in the writing and still more
in the spelling; but we made out that it accused Lord
Munster of acting the go-between in carrying on the
imputed intrigue, and ended pithily, “in shorte me lord
he's a Gorse Hopper.” This Delphic oracle was a sore
puzzler ; and what was meant by a “Gorse Hopper '' we
could no more make out than a sphynx’s riddle. We tried
grasshopper, but that had no application, and we went
through all sorts of nearly approaching sounds in vain ; at
last, out burst the word “Gossiper,” and Gossiper it was
My forenoon calls on Lord Munster in Belgravia were
exceedingly pleasant. The conversation was invariably on
284. AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
topics connected with literature, and books, prints, drawings,
and communications from individuals engaged in similar
pursuits never failed to offer a rich and agreeable banquet.
When his invalid lady was well enough to be seen, it added
a charm to the party, and his fondness for his children gave
him a farther claim to my affectionate regard. And still
more was I delighted with the filial love he displayed for
his mother, of whom an exquisite likeness adorned the
principal room where we sat, when not in the library ; and
to which he always referred with gushing tenderness. A
fine natural disposition could alone account for this ; and
indeed for the whole of his life, which was kind-hearted,
manly, and generous. That he was ambitious might be
true, but I never witnessed any undue symptoms of the
passion ; and his anomalous position, so near to, and yet so
far from the throne, must have induced both lofty hopes
and galling disappointments. The fatal aberration of reason
which led to his most melancholy fate might perhaps be
traced to the constant recurrence of these discordant feel-
ings; all I know is that I deeply deplored, and still deplore
his loss.
About the same time commenced my acquaintance with
Mr. William Lamb, afterwards Lord Melbourne, the great
personal favourite of our young Queen, and Prime Minister
of England for a number of years. Though productive of
many pleasing circumstances, some of which I will relate,
this acquaintance never grew into intimacy, nothing beyond
an occasional friendly intercourse ; yet so marked, that only
lately, after his death, his friend, Sir Henry Bulwer, and his
private secretary, Mr. Thomas Young, having something to
ascertain about him, thought it advisable to consult with me
on the subject, as one likely to be possessed of the information.
Through this degree of personal knowledge, I was, to my
LORD MELBOURNE. 285
great gratification, enabled to plead the cause of the widows
of my two friends, the intrepid brothers Lander, the African
travellers; and, backed by other recommendations, to procure
pensions for them both, one of which continues to be paid
through my hands.
In earlier times, I got a mischievous tap from the then
merely “honourable '' M. P., who was to be the future
Premier and political ruler of a mighty empire. At a small
evening party, sans etiquette, the almost obsolete pastime of
Games and Forfeits, and other ancient humours, came into
play. In the process I was victimised to be blindfolded, and
in that kitten of seven days old condition was condemned to
kneel upon the carpet, and, with my head bent into Lady
Caroline Lamb's lap, give such answers as I could to such
questions as might be proposed to me. It was late, and I
had been persecuted very cleverly ; when I was asked what
I would do if an injured ghost approached to assault me, for
wrongs done in the flesh. I was about to reply, when a
smart cuff on the side of my head, proved to me that it was
no ghost story. I pulled off the silken bandage, and looking
up from his laughing lady's knee, found William Lamb, just
released from a late sitting in the Commons, taking me,
thus abroad, on his way to take his wife home. I was not
quite at home under all the merriment elicited at my expense;
but I did not call the aggressor out for the blow.
Lord Melbourne was, for a gentleman, a tolerable hand
at swearing in conversation. I was once trying to persuade
him to do something for the literary men of the country—
he being himself adorned with excellent literary qualities—
and spoke of what was done for them in Germany and
France, &c.; but all I could get was, “Well, I don’t
know, with all their honours and rewards, I'll be d––
if I do not think we have greater historians, poets, and
286 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
better authors in every way, than they can show against
us ! ”
He certainly was, however, one of the “pleasantest of
pleasant men,” and he wrote in the “Gazette ” Witness
an Epitaph.
“What l is the ancient shepherd dead?
The Patriarch of the Mountains gone?
And is all his white hair withered,
That once like snow in the moonlight shone P
And is yon old dame left alone
To battle with the world P Alas!
How different from the thing she was
“He was no common hind, who held
An idle occupation here;
Nor in fantastic dreams beheld
Wild visions from another sphere ;
But his mind was firm and clear,
And many useful things could tell,
And, at times, on loftier story dwell.
“Every bird that wandereth forth,
And every grass and herb that sips
Nourishment from the rainy North
He knew, aye, and the dark eclipse,
The moon, the sun, and why he dips
His head beneath the burning seas,
And nature's many mysteries.
“Oh, he was well-beloved there !
The very breezes seem'd to play,
In fondness, with his silver hair;
But now he’s vanish’d from the day,
And shook his eighty years away.
Free as his mountain winds is he,
Let loose to immortality.” "
I know that, in the midst of official work and political
struggle, Lord Melbourne often devoted a moment snatched
from both to the Muse, and, if I am not mistaken, Sir E.
Bulwer Lytton, in whose possession I have seen some of his
effusions, must still have preserved these interesting com-
positions, which, even if not superior to the specimen I
LORD MELBOURNE. 287
have quoted, would be curious relics of one who had played
so great a part in the nation's history.
Horace Twiss at this time produced his “Carib Chief,”
and it cemented a friendship between us, which lasted thirty
years; though my critical judgment pronounced it to be
only admissible to the Green Park, as a tragic equipage,
albeit I denied it entrance into the Birdcage Walk, where
only Royalty could be admitted. Twiss was satisfied with
the Green Park praise ; and so we jogged on pleasantly
(for he was a pleasant companion) and comfortably to the
last. I had met him at the country residence of a distin-
guished and estimable friend only a few weeks before his
sudden death ; and it was no poor solace, with the regard
and esteem I entertained for him and his memory, when I,
some eight months ago, met his son in the same delightful
abode of his father's constant friend, and found him to be
one of the most promising youths which the great school of
Westminster could boast, and one likely to do honour to the
Kemble blood which runs in his veins, not to mention the
very affluent stream which flows there on the mother's side.
Horace Twiss's autobiography would be an interesting
work; for he saw, and knew, and took part in a good
deal, both political and literary, and especially dramatic.
I do not know how it was, but his being in Parliament, and
holding a high official appointment, seemed to provoke
unusual jealousy in the literary class from which he sprung.
Instead of being pleased with the fact, out of esprit du
corps, they generally viewed it as if it were a promotion over
their own heads, and twitted and lampooned Twiss accord-
ingly. And then he lived in, and entertained the highest
society. I have dined with Lord Eldon, Lord Castlereagh,
and other Cabinet Ministers in his dark little dining-room
in Serle Street, Lincoln's Inn; and such doings in a literary
288 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
man are apt to provoke malice. Therefore his ready wit was
ridiculed, his very considerable talents were depreciated, and
all his little weaknesses or foibles (and who are without
them?) were exaggerated and abused. Such is too much the
way of the literary as well as common world !
Washington Irving ! name to conjure with, falls within
the time I am now occupying. I had gone for relaxation
to Hastings, when my friend Pyne (a genius all but thrown
away, for he did much that will remain, though he fell off
in the end, and died in poverty), by a happy accident, got
hold of the first copy of “The Sketch Book '' which had
found its way to England just time enough before its
accomplished author, to have it sent to me as a sea-side
material for my vagrant pen. The following facetious letter
will expound the circumstances:—
“MOST HONOURED SIR,
“Here am I, scrambling about the stubble of
literature, springing game for you, who, caring not half a
straw about your faithful pointer, sally out afield after dinner,
charged with everything but straight shot, and loading
your piece with crooked powder. My nose—“my jolly red
nose,’ acknowledged to be one of the best of noses—true
to the scent, nosed a covey—up it sprang. ‘Bang!' says
his Honour. Then his Honour boasts, ‘Look Oh, what
a shot am I
“If I did not point as plain as a pike-staff to the
American game, giving you full scope to mark each bird,
then am I a ‘shotten herring.’
“Henceforth ‘read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest.’
The ‘Sketch Book’ was purchased at New York, wet from
the press, by a gentleman coming to England, for the purpose
of beguiling a vacant hour on the voyage, and thou hast made
WASHINGTON IRWING. 289
him, the reader, author of the book | Did not I make
allusions—elegant allusions—to moonshine 2
“This is very afflicting. What company—I ask it with
sorrow—what company hast thou picked up in the South,
O worthy man of the North ? The Sussex coast, a smuggling
coast, right and left—has it not Hastings for its head-
quarters? Beware of its ‘moonshine,” and drink Farintosh
(if that be the word). Farintosh sweepeth clean the threshing-
floor of a reviewer's brain, and places a lamp in the corner
of his midnight understanding, so that a scribbler scribbles
his LUCUBRATIONs f with true spirit, when he scribbleth
Farintosh-like.
“Gin, you cry up Gin,
Gin you cry for ever ;
Boderation I Gin
Has burnt poor Paddy's liver.”
Wide Elegant Stanzas on Gin, by J. HoPPNER, R.A.
“So the mermaids are gone a hair-combing at our North-
countrymen. Cannot you fidget up some excuse, to lead
you a little further coast-ways f
“Come hame, mon—come hame. After all, they are
but odd fish, and I wud na gie a bawbee to gang alang
wi' the ‘fanciest she an 'em that ever waltzed on the top
o' the giddy sea. But then, lad—what then ? I want
not the cooling of a hot frenzied poet. How romantic
How poetic | To be awakened from amorous dreams by a
swingeing slap of her saucy tail, and refreshed by a shower-
bath of salt-water, sand, and perriwinkle from her trundling
* “I need not inform a reviewer that moonshine is smuggled gin—
“Strip me naked.’”
+ “Query. The “Literary Gazette’ and the “Morning Chronicle "
use the word lucubration, methinks, not always in its true artificial light.
Do these literary earth-stoppers always work (like the glow-worm) with
a lantern at their back?”
WOL. II. U
290 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
locks. Reviewers shave their customers tolerably close,
but after such a lathering, what reviewer would undertake
to shave himself 2 ”
The trifling mistake alluded to was immediately corrected,
and my delight with the work repeated in still stronger
terms; so that when Washington Irving set his foot upon
the English shore he found himself famous, and a literary
career in England courting his entry for the highest
popular stakes. I need not say how cordially the public
re-echoed my report. The result is expressed in the fol-
lowing note, the first of my correspondence with the
most charming of American authors:—
“THE author of the ‘Sketch Book cannot but feel
highly flattered that his Essays should be deemed worthy
of insertion in so elegant and polite a miscellany as the
‘Literary Gazette.’ A corrected and modified edition of
the work is about to be republished in this country, which
he barely mentions, and leaves it to the more experienced
judgment of the Editor to determine how far the extracts
may be made without anticipating and injuring the collec-
tive republication of the work. At the same time he begs
leave to add his conviction that he could not have a better
introduction to fashionable notice, than the favourable
countenance of the ‘Literary Gazette.’”
Such things belong to the most grateful incidents of my
literary life. No doubt, without my aid, the beautiful
American canoe would soon have been safely launched on
the British waters ; but as it was, I had the pleasure and
honour to launch it at once, fill the sails, and send it on
its prosperous voyage. I never enjoyed so much of Irving's
society as I wished ; but have had the gratification of seeing
him at my own table, with such associates as the Bulwers,
SIMPLICITY IN POETRY | 291.
Edward and Henry H. Ellis, Moore, and others of the same
proud literary rank. His quiet manners, and retiring habits,
never putting himself forward, and my severe occupation,
dissipated only in pressing channels, prevented our meeting
(at any rate) so much as I desired, but I trust our mutual
esteem has not decayed since the days of the Sketch
Book.
Other friendships and friendly relations dating from this
period must furnish many notices to my future page ; but
from one of the body, if I transcribe an amusing piece of
poetry (for no matter what the taste of readers may be, I
have a lot of poetry to deposit somewhere in the course
of my Biography), I trust that it will be accepted as the
tag of this chapter. -
IMITATION OF A SCHOOL OF MODERN POETRY.
AN ATTEMPT AT THE SIMPLE,
What I Stranger, have you never heard
Of the lady under the holly tree P
The tale is sad, and will make you weep ;
It always does me.
This lady had a little dog,
‘Twas of King Charles's breed;
And she loved him as well as no tongue can tell—
Aye, very much indeed!
But poor little Pompey was taken ill,
And eke look'd wond’rous faint;
“Oh, go for the doctor 1" the lady she cried,
“To remove this sad complaint.”
So the doctor he came and felt his pulse,
And held up his watch to his eye;
“Fair lady, twelve ounces of blood must he lose,
Or your little dog will die.”
But poor little Pompey grew very weak,
And eke grew wond’rous faint;
“Oh, go for another doctor, I pray,
To remove this sad complaint.”
U 2
292
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
So the doctor he came, and felt his pulse ;
“Fair lady, he’s very ill;
Some strengthening medicine he must have ;"
And he gave him a mercury pill.
But poor little Pompey still grew weak,
And eke look'd wond’rous faint;
“Oh, go for another doctor, I pray,
To remove this sad complaint.”
So, the doctor came, and look’d very grave,
And he held up his cane to his nose;
“Some opening medicine he must have,
His system to compose.”
Then he gave him a potion, and gave him a lotion,
Whilst he gave dismal cries ;
And the little dog died as dead as a door nail,
And twisted his gooseberry eyes!
“Oh, wretched that my little dog,
Lately in health so well,
Should thus die suddenly by death
In-com-pre-hen-si-ble !
“His body shall be opened,
To find the dreadful cause ;
Pompey shall be buried with great pomp,
Aye! bless his little paws l’”
Then the surgeon came, and he took out his knife,
And made a great hole in his side ;
The blood trickled down, and 'tis dreadful to think
What a terrible sight he espied
For out of his stomach a tapeworm there came,
Full seventy yards or more,
And he twisted about the throat of the surgeon,
And strangled him on the floor
“Oh ! fool that I was,” the lady she cried,
“Oh silly foolish thing,
I ought to have known that Pompey had worms,
And sent for Doctor Ching.
“If I had sent for Doctor Ching,
I might have bless'd the day,
For he would have cured Pompey with his patent worm-
Lozenges, I dare say. [destroying
SIMPLICITY IN POETRY. 293
“Dolly, deny me to all my friends,
My grief it is increased,
Three nights and three days without sleep will I watch,
By the corpse of the deceased.
“Go carry the surgeon into the garden,
And bury him, since he’s dead.”
So the gardener made a deep hole with his spade,
And the surgeon was bu-ri-ed.
So the lady she lock'd herself into her room,
For her grief it was increased ;
And three nights and three days without sleep did she watch,
By the corpse of the deceased'
And when the fourth day it came,
Dolly went to her lady's door,
But found it was lock-ed, and then she knock-ed,
Full seventy times or more 1
But she did not attend to the seventy knocks,
As she lay upon her bed,
Which is not much to be wondered at—
Poor lady! she was dead!
Then Dolly forced the door with her fist,
And into the room she went,
And she opened the shutter in a very great flutter,
For she was ready to faint.
And ah 1 and oh what sight she saw,
Dear me! 'twas very shocking !
The lady was dead, as she lay on her bed,
And had stifled herself in her stocking.
Pompey lay stretch'd within her arms,
Reclined was her head,
His precious limbs were cold and stiff,
And the white of his eyes were red
When Dolly saw these doleful sights,
She felt a-shiver-ed,
And went in a fit as dead as a stone,
And pitch'd upon her head.
And her head it was split into twenty pieces,
Which truckled about the floor,
And from the wound, the blood flow'd around,
Full seventy yards or more
294 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
But Dolly did not complain at all,
Indeed she could not speak ;
One eye was hanging against the wall,
And tºother hung on her cheek.
Well—into one coffin the bodies were placed,
And buried under the holly;
This excellent epitaph graved on the grave,
“The Lady, her Dog—and Dolly.”
THE LITERARY GAZETTE AND I. 295
CHAPTER XXI.
-º-
MY WRITINGS.
The wearie traveller, wandering that way,
Therein did often quench his thirsty heat,
And then by it his wearie limbs display,
Whiles creeping Slombre made him to forget
His former payne, and wypt away his toilsome sweat.
SPENSER.
THE story was told of A B—, that having been
long in India, and chiefly occupied on distant missions up
the country, he knew little or nothing of England when he
returned. So, rejoicing in the meeting with one of his old
schoolfellows, the inquiries, as usual, ran upon their
fortunes or conditions. “How is C D- doing 2 ”
asked the Indian ; “he was a fine steady boy, and so
good-natured.” “Ah!” replied his companion, “it is a
sad case, he was transported for a very serious offence.”
“Good heavens ! how sorry I am to hear this but E
T—, that pattern of all that was honourable, what has
become of him 2 ” “Oh, Lord | don't mention him ; he
was hanged for an atrocious crime, about ten years ago,
and one's only hope now is, that the event may be passing
on into the common bucket of oblivion.” “Shocking,
shocking ! My poor old mates' I dare not ask about that
wicked, racketty d-l, G H––. I presume he must
have been drawn and quartered ?” “Pooh, quite the
296 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
H is at this moment Archbishop of
York l’’ [A fact || So various, though in minor degrees,
have been the fates of those who pass before my reflecting
glass But I have room for no more in this volume, and
must bide my time for pastures new, till the gloomy month
of November, which I trust to enliven a bit with my third
tome ; an author whose immense number of works, as
appeared by their backs, excited the astonishment of a
casual reader on the shop shelves of Cadell and Davies
Besides Messrs. Bradbury and Evans, the printers, make
me the welcome signal to wind up, which I rejoice to do
thus shortly.
It continued to be an up-hill fight with the world, and I
consequently got more and more in love with the literature
that absorbed me, and shut out vexatious thoughts. A law
bill of 88l. odd, for “Sun '' litigation, did not contribute to
my ease ; though two of the items were : “Writing
Mr. Taylor to make up quarterly accounts, and settle
with you ; and fair copy delivered by hand, 5s.”—
“Writing Mr. Taylor for half a year's salary, and copy
delivered by hand, 5s.” There was no hand ready on the
other side
reverse G
Another inconvenience sprung up to annoy me; for our
publishers and shareholders in the “Literary Gazette,”
Messrs. Pinnock and Maunder, were so immersed in their
own extensive concerns with Catechisms and Histories, all
over the country, that they found but little time for keeping
the “Gazette ’’ accounts. Thus the very trifling income
which it afforded me, came to be more uncertain and pre-
carious ; and bills, given to stop gaps till the books could
be posted and balanced, &c., were frequently only turnstiles
opening into paths of difficulty and trouble. I observe that
in my first year my receipts were 109!., and the sale of the
MY WRITINGS. 297
paper close upon one thousand stamped, and two hundred
and fifty unstamped. Next year, the circulation increased
considerably, yet still the returns did not raise the supplies
above some 50l. more ; and, but for other literary engage-
ments, such as writing a weekly leader for the “Stafford-
shire Potteries Gazette,” Rose Cottage might have assumed
the name of Bleak House. As it was, there was no super-
abundance ; and I quitted it soon for Queen's Buildings,
Brompton. Horse was sold, and matters crept on. Of my
way of taking the rough with the smooth, the following
sketch of the pleasures and pains of editors of periodicals,
may serve to furnish an idea.
THE PLEASURES AND PAINS OF EDITORS OF
PERIODICALS.
A SKETCH,
“Delightful task.”—Thomson.
“Hail plural unit.”—ColMAN.
“Even in this immense metropolis there are not more
than a score or two, and in the chief places of the kingdom
not a greater number than from one to five of the entire
population, who know anything of the pleasures we are
about to describe. To the great majority of readers, there-
fore, this exposition must possess the grand charm of
novelty. -
“In the first place, the joys of Editors are very widely
spread and general ; in fact, they are made the happiest of
living creatures—by being requested to publish such inti-
mations as the following, sent to them expressly, as it
should seem, for their gratification :-
“‘WE rejoice to hear that the MS. poem of A. B. is in
298 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
such a state of forwardness that it may positively be
be expected to issue from the press this winter.’
“‘It gives, or affords, Us the highest pleasure to be able
to state that Mr. C. D. intends to add another book to his
exquisite treatise on morbid affections.'
“‘Nothing could inspire Us with greater delight than to
be able to state that that eminent artist E. F. has arrived
in safety from Italy, where the contemplation of the great
masters has added new powers even to his magic pencil.’
“‘The public will learn with the same heart-felt
satisfaction which WE feel in announcing it, that the
accomplished Miss G. H. has recovered from her indisposi-
tion, and will immediately resume her duties in the fashion-
able world.’
“‘WE are at once astonished and enraptured by J. K.'s
last lecture on the diseases of the bladder. WE understand
he begins his new course on the 1st of April next.”
“And so on through the whole alphabet, and the whole
circle of literature, arts and sciences.
“WE are, it is true, sometimes said to be sorry, but in
that case, there is invariably a hope attached to ws, a land
of promise at the end of the desert;-thus
“‘WE are sorry to find that the Rev. L. M. is prevented
by the gout from finishing his grand work on the prophecies;
but have reason to hope that the delay will be short, and
the publication rendered more perfect every day it remains
in the hands of its classic author.”
“‘WE lament to learn that N. O.'s famous picture of
the Bombardment * of Jerusalem will not grace the ensuing
Exhibition ; but the lovers of the arts will be consoled with
US on being informed that it may be seen at his residence,
No. 717, next door to the Ophthalmia Hospital in the
* Why not bombard Jerusalem P
MY WRITINGS, 299
Regent's Park, and that many sublime touches have
recently been added to this masterly composition.’
“Being compelled ea officio to sympathise in print with
all the hypothetical happinesses (heaven knows how few in
reality 1) of authors, artists, players, lecturers, publishers,
picture-dealers, cognoscenti, exhibitors, teachers, fiddlers,
and hunters after popularity of every kind; feeling all their
little troubles, and more than partaking in all their great
hopes: watching their motions, as it were, and recording
their progress with a maternal anxiety ; comforting the
public when they are not immediately prominent, with the
assurance that they will shortly be so, and being en-
raptured with their stupendous merits when they do
come forward with any labour—these are the mere first
links of our intimate connection with everything in the
above lines.
“Our opinions are of mighty importance.
“After seeing the midnight lamp expire in reading P.'s
MSS. preparing for the press, we are rapped out of bed at
seven o'clock by Q. determined not to present his medals
to the world, without consulting us on the merits (so that
we too must ‘stand the hazard') of the dye. R. invites
w8 to inspect his show-room six miles off, in a miry sub-
urb, before he erects his national monument to the memory
of Tom Thumb the Great, our knowledge of the original
and historical information rendering our judgment on the
subject so truly desirable. Our meals are interrupted, our
retirement broken in upon, our most precious time con-
sumed, our very sick-room invaded, by the discoverers
of curious papers found where they were never lost, the
liberal possessors and ready retailers of scientific informa-
tion which happens to be no news, the writers of poetry,
according to their own nomenclature, and the projectors of
300 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
the most immortal schemes that ever an ungrateful world
slighted as absurd and ridiculous. -
“Then the multitude of especial favours that we receive
—each in his sphere ! Being chosen as the most appro-
priate channel for a highly (self) interesting communica-
tion :-the publishers of long essays written in haste, and
in want of our kind correction :-the most excellent paper
for an exposition of the greatest consequence to our readers
in the improvement of S. T.'s patent:—the respectable
medium for answering U.’s attack on W.’s important letter:
—the valuable journal for widely disseminating a specimen
of W.’s intended publication on a question of universal
attraction |
“It must be confessed that OUR enjoyments are occa-
sionally chequered with some slight regrets. We find
elegiac poets very hard-hearted, and if we affront them,
or even pastoral writers, by not immediately inserting
their productions, we are sure of a severe scolding, as
heavy postage, and anger everlasting. Antiquarians are
also obdurate dogs to deal with : if disappointed on the
ensuing day of publication, there is no escaping their
research and remonstrance. In vain do we bury ourselves
in the darkest corner of our study, and entrench ourselves
behind the lies of our servant’s ‘not at home; ' we are
invariably dug out, and suffer exposure. Authors, whom
our consciences will not allow us to praise, charge us with
prejudice, partiality, corruption, illiberality, malevolence,
and all the deadly sins of human nature. Artists are
perhaps still more intolerant and greedy of praise. Their
appetites for flattery are only equalled by their immeasur-
able irritability; and woe be to that critic who does not
discover in every daub the colouring of Titian, combined
with the grandeur of Michael Angelo; in every plaster-
MY WRITINGS, 301
model the fancied fire of Phidias, and the imagined beauty
of Praxiteles. Indeed, we have ascertained that most
public characters have such capacious stomachs for applause,
that there is no risk of surfeiting them with panegyric ;
but, on the contrary, much danger of being thought
churls and niggardly starvlings for not giving enough.
Reviews must be puffs—criticisms must observe noblemishes
—biographies must make men angels |
“Then we are occasionally sore beset with temptations.
A pretty poetess has just finished her first attempt, ‘Stanzas
to a favourite Goldfinch; and with down-cast blue eyes,
a heaving bosom, and a faltering voice, entreats to see it
in print. We are martyred between the writer and the
writing. Such a supplicant, what man can deny—such a
composition what Editor can insert | A philanthropist
has a plan for the relief of the poor—have we not charity to
give it place 2 A reformer produces a scheme for remedy-
ing all abuses—have we not patriotism to find room for it !
An enthusiast would preach mankind into one blessed
group of loving brethren—the sermons are long and per-
haps tedious, but surely our humanity cannot reject them 1
“And it is often in vain to endeavour to elude these
applications with, “Your poetry is charming, but it wants
a little polishing to fit it for the public eye.”—“Will you
be so good as make the necessary alterations ? '—“It would
delight us, but take the merit from you, which must not
be '—‘Oh, I am not self-sufficient, and shall be happy to
have my errors rectified.” “We will point out two or three
slight defects in your exquisite ideas—so and so—et cetera.”
The verses are taken to be altered, and we are never
forgiven. -
“And then the Stage and its people ! Heaven defend
us from it and them . The theatre is a bottomless gulf
302 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
for panegyric ; the more that is poured in, the more void
it appears, and there is no return. One Shakspeare, who
knew them well, has told us we had better have a bad
epitaph after our death, than their ill report while we live ;
and yet there is no avoiding the latter by the sacrifice of
truths on the altar of flattery, though we butcher hecatombs.
What is the death of a monarch to an actor's taking leave,
overcome by his feelings, supported by his friends, and all
the audience, who have them, Snivelling into their white
handkerchiefs 1 What is the march of a general at the
head of a victorious army, to the peregrinations of a third-
rate mime through the provinces ! As for the great heroes
—if Critics do not laud them with more than eastern adula-
tion, woe betide them ; their motives are base, and they are
the private foes of persons they never saw but on the public
stage. Dreading some tragic end to our labours, we dare
say no more of these tyrants, who carry the mockery of
their profession into their intercourse with real life.
“‘That is really a fine group, Mr. Sculptor—the attitudes
are easy, the pyramidal form studied without affectation, the
animals spirited, and the human figures full of nature.'
“But is there no point at which your admirable judgment
could oblige me by suggesting an improvement ?’ ‘The
whole, we have said, is excellent, yet, as no work is abso-
lutely faultless, it does seem possible to amend the anatomy
of that horse's limbs, and thus improve its position—the
armour of one of the knights, too, is rather heterogeneous,
being semi-barbaric, semi-Greek, like the St. George on a
Pistrucci crown '—‘Oh, I beg your pardon, gentlemen, I
am sorry to differ from such superior minds, but I have
particularly regarded the form and attitude of that horse,
which is indeed the best part of the design, and the armour
I assure you, is classically accurate.' We are doomed
MY WRITINGS. 303
ignorant pretenders as soon as our backs are turned, and
the monument graces St. Paul's, with a crooked-legged
Bucephalus, and a painted Pict in an Athenian helmet:—
very much on a par with the rest of the national monuments
(of want of taste) in that Cathedral.
“The painter is equally solicitous for advice, alias praise,
and equally wedded to his own system. ‘That sky is
green.’ ‘Ah ! that was necessary for the contrast with
these black rocks.’ ‘The natural colour is blue.’ ‘Surely
you would not have a picture look black and blue / ‘But
these trees are heavy and brown.” “I must have a neutral
tint in that bright sun-set.” A picture is entirely yellow,
purple, and gold—it is a fine effect of colour. Another
has men, women, and babes at the breast, all muscular as
Samsons or Herculeses—it is a noble display of anatomical
knowledge. A third has men of stone, and dead children
of iron grey—it is the grand gusto, half-tint, and not
amenable to the laws of nature We could swell the cata-
logue, but might be thought personal.
“‘This is a new mechanical invention—a fire and water
escape, so that you are in no danger in your garret, should
your house catch fire, nor in your cellar if it should be
flooded. Observe how the machinery moves.’ ‘Yes, in the
air, but either fire or water would destroy the very principle
of its motion.” “I am sorry that you do not seem to under-
stand the mechanical forces.” “We are sorry that you do
not seem to understand the force of our argument.” “It is
very easy to object to useful speculations, but not so easy
to escape from the terrors of flood or horrors of conflagra-
tion " ' " Sir, we would rather trust to the resource of
Gulliver among the Lilliputians, in both cases, than to
your silly machine.—Good by tye.”
“We might dramatise a hundred other scenes in which
304 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
the situation of the Editors of periodical works invariably
resembles that of handsome women—most perseveringly
courted, and little attended to when they come to advise.
But we have said enough on the subject ; and instead of
resorting, as the fair would do, to a curtain lecture, WE shall
drop the curtain, behind which our readers have had a peep,
such as they may not have had before.
“WE—AN EDITort.”
IMPROMPTU.
THE PAINTER's DEFENCE.
A Bride's likeness was painted, where only one hand
Was seen, to the critic's dismay ;
But the artist, when blamed, cried “What would you demand?
She has just given the other away /*—TEUTHA.
MOON-LIGHT.
If any light I love, ’tis thine, sweet Moon,
Purer and softer than the glittering noon.
Ah, in what stage of life is aught more bright
Than the Moon-light?
In Infancy the play is tenfold dear,
All school-tasks o'er, enjoy'd beneath thy sphere;
And happy hours make many a fleeting night
By the Moon-light.
In youth the Lover's dream is all of thee,
Blest and sole witness of his ecstasy:
Even with his Mistress' charms thou shar'st his plight,
Conscious Moon-light.
In Age when nature's transitory gleam
Expiring seeks a mild congenial beam,
Dear thy repose, as Time rests from his flight
With thee, Moon-light.—TEUTHA.
MY WRITINGS. 305
WOL. II.
THE WAVES.
Hastings, upon thy coast I stood—
Still onward, onward roll'd the flood :
'Tis trite, but who can see that strife
Of waves, nor think on human life P
Oh, awful likeness | how they pass,
A rippling undistinguish'd mass,
Fretting the surface, and no more,
Till lost upon the oblivious shore.
And Fancy, how thou turn'st my brain
I trace each billow of the main :
'Tis individual, and its span
Of being, is like thine, O Man.
Mark ye that plumy-crested surge,
Its foaming courser forward urge;
Lashing the land, it spreads dismay,
The pebbles fly, the rocks give way:
That is the warrior fierce uprear'd,
Roaring to battle, ruthless, fear'd ;
He's spent—a whispering murmur all
That echoes his high-sounding fall.
Upon the sand that gentle wave
Delights in peaceful grace to lave ;
The margent dents with flowing line,
While glittering planets o'er it shine;
That is the Bard, alas ! to see
The impress of his harmony
And tuneful force, a moment's joy,
The next succeeding wave destroy.
Wearing and splashing through these rocks,
Whose adamant the struggle mocks;
In eddies whirl’d, in deep chasms lost,
Bubbling in straits, in spray up-tost ;
Many an effort see they make,
And billows rise, and billows break:—
All worldlings these, who ceaseless boil
And labour on with noisy toil;
By difficulties some defied
Die off the granite’s reckless side;
While others blest beyond desire
Wind through, and on the shore expire
Those burst, the haven ere they reach,
And these but perish on the beach.
306
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
How sweetly these round billows rise,
And undulate, while the breeze sighs
Above; their race seems youthful sport,
Flight and pursuit—they shun, they court—
Now parted and to distance thrown,
And now commingled into one;
They swell but soon subside, and where
They were, a few small wavelets are ;
Or sooth to say, they brawl and flee,
One seeks the land, one floats to sea :
How like is this to human love,
As the young passions swell and move P
Coy dalliance, union, fond embrace,
Proud bound, and then a nameless place—
Or sever'd fates, away they go,
No matter where they froth or flow.
Far off a hoary head I view,
Dropping salt rheum ; 'tis age's hue,
And life's last tears. The sea-bird’s breast
Is on the neighbouring calm imprest—
Ah, spirit’s emblem can it be,
But one faint struggle more, and he
Shall seek Heaven’s element, like thee ?
How blest, if so; for lo the gale
Increasing flaps the shuddering sail,
Wild ocean bellows loud, and fierce
The tempest sweeps, the drear winds pierce
With dismal howl, the waters rave, –
Nothing can 'scape the yawning grave ;
And every mortal, wreck'd, may know
There is no safety here below.
Ah me ! my dream of waves is o'er;
Another reflux bares the shore,
Another influx comes again,
And new each shape in, on, the main—.
My heroes, lovers, bards all fled,
Forgotten, traceless, vanished.
And Man, whence springs thy senseless pride?
'Tis but a century or a TIDE P
Hastings, August 2i. TEUTHA.
With a simple but gratifying proof of the benefit that
may be derived from publications of the literary class (and
MY WRITINGS. 307
of which I had many instances in the course of my travel,
such even as thanks from foreign ambassadors on leaving
the country, for having been their truthful guide in all that
concerned books and intelligence), I shut up the last page
of my biography, volume the second.
TO THE EDITOR OF THE LITERARY GAZETTE.
“ November 10th, 1818.
“SIR,
“Permit one who is highly indebted to you to
return you his sincere thanks.
“About a twelvemonth ago, I accidentally saw, at a
friend's house, a number of your excellent publication. I
perused it, and immediately imbibed a taste for literature,
which, I am happy to say, has since afforded me no small
degree of intellectual enjoyment.
“Before I read your journal, I was, I fear, a sad idle
fellow. I would indeed skim through a novel or a romance
—provided I procured them without any trouble—and the
knowledge I acquired from such publications, was what may
be expected. I have very many reasons to consider the
hour when your publication was first put into my hands, as
a most fortunate one ; from that moment I may date the
pleasure I have experienced from the perusal of works whose
titles were before unintelligible or appalling.
“I am a young man, Mr. Editor—a very young man,
not yet nineteen—and most of my leisure time is devoted to
the cultivation of literature. In this respect, I hope I am
not singular. For my own part, I find so much enjoyment,
such exquisite pleasure, in these pursuits, that I wonder
why the time which many of our young men spend in
idleness is not applied to what would afford them lasting
X 2
308 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
and much greater enjoyment, the cultivation of science and
the arts.
“I have no motive, my dear Sir, beyond the impulse of
gratitude, in thus addressing you; as I am, and most likely
ever shall be, unknown to you; yet, if you should experience
any gratification from learning that you have conferred one
of the greatest blessings a mortal can enjoy on an humble
individual, know, my dear Sir, that you have conferred that
blessing on me, and that I shall ever consider myself
“Your obliged and grateful Pupil,
“J. R.”
APPENDIX.
—4-—
A, p. 33.
FROM observations on my former volume from several quarters,
my worthy publishers have given me to understand, that Appen-
dices are by some readers considered to be mere appendages of
little consequence to a work, and which may be as conveniently
dispensed with as published. It happens, however, that these
additions on my part, are as intrinsically a portion of my bio-
graphy as the narrative from which they are detached; and that
the sole reason for so detaching them, is to preserve the best
order I can with so many miscellaneous materials without the
interruption of co-lateral affairs which form compact little
episodes by themselves. As Samson's strength lay in his locks,
O'Connell's in his tail, and every lady's epistolary correspondence
in her postscripts, so would I wish the public to believe that my
weakness will not be found diffused in this division of my
labour. “The Satirist, or Monthly Meteor,” “ represents a very
essential section of my literary career. It was commenced by
Mr. George Manners on the 1st of October, 1807, and by its
talent and virulence very speedily attracted general notice, warm
partisanship, and bitter hate. The first coloured caricature repre-
sented Lord Grenville, Lord Temple, Lord Moira, Lord Erskine,
Sheridan, John Kemble, Windham, Whitbread, Burdett, Horne
Tooke, and other public characters, political, dramatic, and
literary; and over them the tall figure of the Satirist brandishing
* Not to be confounded with the “Satirist” newspaper, of much later
date.
310 APPENDIX.
a whip. This took; and the publication went prosperously on,
lashing without mercy the Whig, “all the talents,” statesmen, the
authors of books obnoxious to the critics, and the players who,
through any cause, incurred their displeasure. Their boundless
personality and unrestrained abuse of those whom they chose to
treat as delinquents in politics, morals, taste, or conduct, made
a violent sensation ; and the abilities displayed by the editor and
his coadjutors, (evincing education, style, force, wit, and humour,)
sent the bruit of their biting and clever censures through the
land. One novel feature especially told well. It was entitled .
“Comparative Criticism,” and consisted in placing in close
juxta-position the opinion of other periodicals on new publica-
tions and plays, &c., in which the contradictions were often
most direct and whimsically ludicrous. The licentiousness
which frequently disfigured the design, would not be endured
now ; but five-and-forty years have done much towards refining
the public taste, and what passed as (perhaps) slightly inde-
corous in those days would be scouted as intolerable indecency
in our times. It is greatly to the benefit of the people that it is
so ; for coarse and immodest language cannot be used without
polluting the sense and poisoning the mind. Undeterred by
any scruples upon the grounds I have stated, and caught by the
striking talent of the work, I offered a contribution which was
accepted ; and I joined the ranks in January, 1808, with a
political drama, entitled “Vox et Praeterea Nihil, or Parlia-
mentary Debates in Rhyme,” directed with all my powers of
comic ridicule against the Opposition leaders and their chief
adherents. I must say, however, that whilst I blamed what was
intemperate and personally injurious in the “Satirist,” I was
thoroughly convinced that it effected great public good in all the
departments it handled; and that though I wrote with the rest,
from entertaining similar opinions, I was not one of those who
forgot that “want of decency is want of sense.” I took up the
“Comparative Criticism” sport, and contributed to it with much
gusto; for it was altogether truly entertaining from the palpable
differences in facts as well as opinions. But for the trouble
of comparing so many organs, it would be a capital hit in
any journal to revive the contrast, and show how very little the
judgment of readers ought to depend on the dicta of newspapers
THE “sATIRIST.” 311
and magazines. I copy a few fragments in proof, and the entire
sentences would occupy too much space.
“These discourses may be regarded as of general utility.”—
Monthly Review.
“In a sound, forcible, argumentative, and scriptural manner.
The style is manly and perspicuous.”—Eclectic Review.
“The ludicrous matter here collected in this trumped-up
story. How long will the understanding of the common people
be inposed upon by such rhapsodies?”—Critical Review.
Another—
“ls detailed with equal perspicuity and force.”—British
Critic.
“Is not very intelligible.”—Monthly Review.
Again,
“This work (Loudon on Country Residences) displays through-
out a vigorous and original mind.”—Anti-Jacobin Review.
“A scientific man, who discovers considerable experience in
his profession, and good sense,” &c.—Eclectic Review.
“We perceive more charlatanry than is compatible with
genuine science.”—Monthly Review.
Many such conflicting oracles from the monthly publications,
and many more from the newspaper press (which last was my
suggestion) were so splendidly absurd, that it was impossible not
to have a hearty laugh at them ; and the exposure seemed to
have some influence in causing the production of more guarded,
if not just and honest, critiques. I am tempted to add a few
notices of the sort from about forty on Scott’s “Marmion.”
“There is a good deal of spirit and a good deal of nature
intermingled in the introductions to the cantos.”—Edinburgh
Review.
“To show what poverty of idea prevails through these intro-
ductory chapters, we will quote. Some few lines from these
spiritless effusions.”—Critical Review.
“The introduction to Canto Second contains a piece of
ineffable nonsense.”—Universal Magazine.
“In the second epistle the prospect is admirably delineated—
the ramble finer than anything of the kind that we have hitherto
met in Mr. Scott himself.”—Eclectic Review.
Fitz-Eustace's Song “is strikingly conceived.” — Beau
312 APPENDIX.
Monde. “Has a natural and enduring charm, and is sweetly
wild.”—Eclectic Review. “Is but a stiff and rather childish
imitation of the truly pathetic simplicity of Burns.”—Monthly
Review. “A remarkably silly song.”—Universal Magazine.
“Exceedingly dull.”—Monthly Review. “Never dull.” —
Eclectic Review. -
Of the newspaper contradictions the following is a specimen:-
“A new comedy, in three acts, from the pen of Mr. Skeffington,
called ‘Lose no Time,’ was performed for the first time, last
night, with universal and deserved applause. We have no loom
for particulars; and must therefore content ourselves with
observing generally, thas it is at once interesting, sprightly, and
well-arranged; and promises to become a general favourite.”—
Morning Post.
“A new drama, called ‘Lose no Time,” which report ascribes
to the pen of Mr. Skeffington, was last night performed to a half-
filled pit, and a ‘beggarly account of empty boxes.’ To such
vulgar trash we have seldom been compelled to listen. Two
officers, of family and distinction, for the sake of anticipating
each other in the possession of a lady, have recourse to a series
of mean deceptions, for one-half of which they ought to be
horse-whipped from all society above the rank of pugilists and
pick-pockets. We shall not bestow further notice on this
contemptible production ; which, however, was given out for
repetition.”—Times.
“A new comedy, in three acts, entitled ‘Lose no Time, was
performed last night, for the first time, and received with
unmixed applause. It is from the pen of Mr. Skeffington. We
are prevented, by want of room, from entering into the detail of
the piece; nor is it necessary, for it is rather a series of lively
scenes than a regular drama.”—Morning Chronicle.
“The Epilogue, containing many good points relative to the
title of the comedy was admirably delivered by Mrs. Edwin.”—
Morning Herald. - -
“Mrs. Edwin spoke the Epilogue; a common-place about
Buonaparte's running away, and being pursued by the Cossacks,
was not at all relished by the audience. It was, in truth, rather
out of time, as well as out of place.”—Morning Chronicle.
“The Epilogue, written by Mr. G. L. Peacock, the author of
THE “sATIRIST.” 313
‘Palmira,’ &c. abounds with excellent points, and was admirably
delivered by Mrs. Edwin. The piece went off with eclat, and
was announced for repetition amidst shouts of applause.”—
British Press. -
These are but brief and imperfect specimens of what an indus-
trious and clever penny-a-liner might now imitate with profit to
himself, and amusement and advantage to the community. Verb.
Sap., or ponder on the following note:–
“DEAR SIR,- -
“My only reason for omitting your poetical article in
our last number, was that it came too late, and I fear the
subject is now too stale. The newspaper Com. cut was inserted,
and I wish you to continue the article ; but I think it would
have more effect if you arrange the extracts, so that those which
contradict each other should be together.
“I beg leave to suggest that you have it in your power to
furnish us monthly with an article, which, I think, would
produce a considerable effect, under the title of “Newspaper
inconsistencies and falsehoods.” We very frequently read in one
paper that a person is dying, in another of the same day, that he
is giving splendid dinners. That the Duke of Anything was at
one place, and then at another, &c., &c., &c., &c.; which your
judgment would enable you to contrast in a whimsical and
entertaining manner. If you can let me have an article of this
description by Sunday, twelve o’clock, it shall be inserted in our
next number.
“I am, Sir, yours truly,
“ G. R.”
Occupied with my newspaper engagements I was a very rare
contributor to the “Satirist” for several years. It was during
that time in continual hot-water in consequence of its insolent
tone and bitter personalities. Law-suits, challenges, assaults,
and affrays, marked its monthly course; and but for Mr. Man-
ners's masculine form and great physical strength, he would
have had even more encounters and failed to get so victoriously
out of them. Unappalled by such dangers, and determined not
to provoke them by indecency or scurrility, I was induced to
purchase the copyright of the publication, and the house in
314 APPENDIX.
which it was published, 267, Strand, both together. Of my
tenantry, I have given the history elsewhere; and have now
only to relate my adventures and endeavour to preserve some of
my productions from and after the 1st of July, 1812, when my
editing began. I announced that though satire would still, in
conformity with its title, be the prevailing feature of the work,
I had opened it more freely to communications (not satirical) of
merit, and trusted to make it “a repository of general informa-
tion and a permanent fund of rational amusement.” I further
stated my sentiments as regarded the publication. “Satire is a
potent instrument, and, as it is employed, adorns with honour
or confounds with shame the author who dares to use it. Well-
directed, impartially administered, and dispassionately applied
to the correction of crimes that “flaunt in the broad face of
day,’ no one can doubt the usefulness of its tendency, or deny
it the praise of being the most efficient friend to virtue. On the
other hand, if calculated only to gratify envy, to satiate private
malignity, to disseminate slander, and poison the confidence of
social intercourse, there is not a curse within the wrath of
heaven more afflicting, nor a wretch upon earth more detestable
than the man who can address it to purposes so base. With
these feelings, the readers of the NEw SERIEs need be under no
apprehension of ever meeting in our page with matter to shock
decency, to outrage society, to disturb the peace of families, or
sport with individual happiness. While we shall attempt to
follow the better part of the example of our predecessors, in
baring imposture, however curiously concealed; in scourging
infamy, however highly elevated ; in holding religious hypocrisy
and wickedness up to detestation ; and political tergiversation
up to scorn ; we shall maintain that respect for the opinion of the
wise and good, we shall maintain that respect for the approbation
of our own hearts, so to conduct ourselves that we may ever
exclaim with the poet—
“‘Curst be the verse, how smooth so e'er it flow,
That tends to make one virtuous man our foe.’”
August, 1812, thus gave evidence to intentions which ought
not to be confounded with the traditionary character of the
“Satirist,” which I must acknowledge was of a prurient and
THE “ SATIRIST.” 315
frequently offensive description; and had I then, whilst greatly
admiring much that was piquant and just, entertained the same
strong objections to much of the contents of the ten volumes
which preceded my undertaking as I do now, I should,
assuredly, never have become the pseudo-Juvenal of the age.
“Oh ! let me fly to some deserted coast,
Some dreary region of eternal frost ;
Far from the cant of hypocrites precise,
Far from the sermonising slaves of vice,
Who seem all virtue in the streets of Rome,
And swell the bacchanalian roar at home.”
Hodgson's Juvenal.
In this spirit I carried on the publication, and introduced a
new feature, entitled “The Moon,” for the reception of lighter
literature; and which grew into popularity for its anecdotes,
epigrams, and other small-ware moon-rakings. My third
volume, commencing July, 1813, exulted in success, though the
satire of its two precursors had been confined to public life,
public men, and public matters.
When I was transplanted into the “Sun ?? I found the
“Satirist’ too much for me; and to confess the truth, its
literary merits did not suffice to gratify the public appetite so
much as when it was seasoned with the spices I had repudiated.
It was therefore discontinued, and in its stead another attempt
made under the title of “The Tripod; ” but the “Tripod' had
soon hardly a leg to stand upon, and so was kicked over. From
my four volumes of “Satirist,” I may hereafter make a selection
of my own writings, and some contributions from other hands,
with notes upon their authors; but the quantity is too great for
the space I could allow here, and I have only to express my
hope that the following specimens may not be thought too much.
QUERY.
What is love P a morning vapour,
Flying from the beams of day;
What is love P a midnight taper,
Dying with the hours away.
'Tis the sigh, the infant utters,
'Ere it knows the use of breath ;
'Tis the moth, that gaily flutters
Round the flame that dooms its death.
316
APPENDIX.
'Tis the glow-worm's witching glory,
Luring trav’llers in the mire;
'Tis the gossip's goblin story,
Told around a winter fire.
'Tis the dream that haunts our pillows;
'Tis a castle in the air;
'Tis the tears of weeping willows,
Tears that really never were.
'Tis, oh! 'tis, the rose, in fancy,
In reality, the thorn ;
And I’ve heard a married man say,
'Tis the Devil by his horn /
THE NOSEGAY.
To MY SISTER MARY, ON SEEING HER GATHERING WILD FLowers.
My dearest Sister 1 now you rove
Through every field and every grove
To cul] the fragrant flow’rs,
Which Nature, with unsparing pains,
O'er all her spacious domains
In vast profusion pours.
I see thy feet attracted stray
To where the violet scents the way,
Low blooming in the shade :
Now where the speckled hawthorn blows;
Now where the beauties of the rose
Are to the sun display’d.
Now exultation lifts thee high,
And pleasure brightens up thine eye;
Thy nosegay is complete—
So various too ! it needs must please—
Here daisies, cowslips, and heartsease,
With broom and bluebells meet.
Yet, ah ! my lovely girl, beware
All is not good that looks so fair,
And dangers lurk around—
The glowing rose you so admire
Is guarded by the scythelike brier,
Th’ invader's hand to wound.
MY WRITINGS. 317
The May is not in triumph borne,
Without encountering the thorn
Attendant on its bloom :
And oft beneath the nettle's sting,
Protected, scented violets spring,
And all the gale perfume.
And, oh! my love | your views extend,
Instruction with amusement blend,
And wisely learn betimes;
E’en like the chase you now pursue
Your pilgrimage through life to view,
Where virtues mix with crimes.
The graced outside, the manners bland,
The look sincere, and proffer'd hand,
May hide a callous heart,
Which feels not for another's pain;–
Which envy, hate, and malice stain;
All baseness, fraud, and art.
Nay! hid beneath Love’s warmest smile,
Lurk falsehood, perfidy, and guile,
The female heart t'ensnare ;
And, under friendship’s sacred guise,
Too oft, alas ! foul treachery lies,
Deceit, and selfish care.
And still the more of life you know,
Experience more and more will show
Your yet unconscious youth :
Survey the real scene, you'll find
This hasty picture of mankind
Falls sadly short of truth.
Yet suffer not scowling mistrust
To make thee to the world unjust,
And think the whole one blot :
For some there are—alas ! how few
With souls to every virtue true—
Heav'n cast with theirs thy lot!
FRATER."
* Written when removed in bad health to my native air, 1802.
(See Wol. I.)
3.18 APPENDIX.
APPLICATIONS FOR THE LAUREATESHIP.
Letter from the Lord Chamberlain to the Satirist.
“Lord Chamberlain's Office, Palace Yard,
“Tuesday.
“DEAR SIR,-
“In consequence of the death of Mr. Pye, the lucrative,
honourable, and important office of Poet Laureat having become
vacant, very numerous applications for the reversion have been
made to me by sundry noble, celebrated, and estimable persons.
Many of these applicants have presented me with specimens of
their poetical talents, in order to enable me to appreciate their
fitness for office ; but, as I am not only little versed in measured
compositions, but am, moreover, extremely puzzled to make out
intelligibly the plain prose meaning of not a few of these pro-
ductions, I have deemed it expedient to send them to you as One
skilled in criticism, and, from practice in dissecting authors,
enabled to develop things incomprehensible to other men; and
to beg you will favour me with your opinion thereon, with your
speediest convenience, for the writers have already become
extremely clamorous and impatient for a decision each in his
own favour.
“In the hope of an early answer, to release me from the life
of persecution I now lead, and the hourly dread of being torn to
pieces by infuriated bards, as a certain bard, I believe Orpheus,
was of old,” -
“I remain, dear Satirist, yours, &c.,
“HERTFORD.”
In consequence of the request contained in this polite epistle,
which his lordship dispatched to US by a special messenger, we
have taken infinite pains carefully and impartially to scan and
* The Lord C. is a little out in his Heathen Mythology, but it ill
becomes a Christian noble to be more accurate in those things than in his
Scriptural knowledge.—ED.
MY WRITINGS. 319
peruse the mass of poems which accompanied it, and which
were, for greater security and conveniency, conveyed to our
office in two of the royal waggon-train-covered waggons, at-
tended by a suitable escort. From these loads we selected, by a
species of sortes invented for the occasion, one thousand applica-
tions. These were again reduced to one hundred by another
ordeal; and, lastly having undergone the severest criticism, we
chose twelve of the best, which we returned to his lordship,
advising him, as they were all of equal merit, to have the
business of the Laureat hereafter done by a committee of twelve,
in such manner as we also pointed out. His lordship we
understand thinks highly of our suggestions, and letters have
been written to Mr. Bankes, Mr. Martin, and other reformists of
our petty economy, in order to ascertain if such appointment
may not occasion great clamour, from the creation of so many
new officers. Should any objection be made, the idea will be
dropped, rather than be persevered in to cause contention (such
is the placable spirit of ministers, who, instead of treating such
carping little creatures with contempt, too often yield to these
political coxcombs), though, as only the same salary and per-
quisites are to be allotted to the committee of twelve as to one
individual, it is hoped no objection will be urged against a plan
which promises so much variety, novelty, and national renown.
From these and others, with the approbation of their several
authors, we have made a few selections, and, with some extracts
from the letters enclosing them, we now hasten to submit to the
admiration of the world.
Mote from Mr. Wilberforce, enclosing a Specimen of
PHannah More's.
“Kensington Gore, 14th August.
“Mr. Wilberforce humbly begs to earnestly recommend the
enclosed to the notice of the Lord Chamberlain. Though it
hath not been usual in times past to nominate and appoint
females to the office of Laureat, yet he trusts that, with the
glory of God, and the religious instruction of this degenerate age
320 APPENDIX.
in the contemplation of his Majesty's confidential advisers, an
exception may be made in favour of one so pre-eminently
saintly, and so admirably calculated, by her writings of birth-
day odes and moral reflections on the new year's-day, to promote
the sacred cause of Christianity. Surely as there was one she
Pope, there may be allowed to be one she Laureat: if which
should be the event of this application, it is hoped the usual
formalities and ceremonies, as enacted by the Cardinals on the
initiation of a Pope, will not be insisted upon, though Hannah
is willing to undergo much in the service of the Lord.”
From Mrs. More's production we select only two verses: it is
rather too much in the Methodist hymn style for an ode.
“While worldlings sing
Earth’s joys, oh king !
I'll heavenly anthems raise ;
No Pagan nine,
But hymns divine,
Inspiring George’s praise.
“Oh Lord of hosts |
Protect our coasts,
From war's terrific burst;
And Boney’s sway,
Now and for ay,
Be evermore accurst.”
Of a very opposite tendency and character is the following:—
“Melina Place, half-past Two o'clock,
“Saturday morning.
“My LoPD CHAMBERLAIN,-
“You and I have had a deal of troublesome
correspondence; I trust the present will be more pleasant to us
both. It ought to be so, considering the auspices under which it
commences, for, by Jove, I have been enjoying my bottle since
five o'clock with a few friends, and, having tired myself and them
with damning the critics, for whose malevolence I do not care a
single curse (save when they attack my moral character, b t
them), I sit down in desperate good humour and high spirits to
write to your lordship.
MY WRITINGS, 321
“As Pye has been dished up for the worms—
“And there he doth lie,
To make a dirt pie.”
what say you, my lord, to put me into his living place " I can
sing more like a lark than any Pye that ever chattered. I will
undertake to keep the court in good humour. Give me the
money, and you shall have odes galore. But to show you
that I do not want to bargain about the Sack, like a pig in a
poke, to—a specimen—
“‘Is’t wine you give the bard tinspire 2
By heaven it sets my soul on fire
And for the tun,
I’ll write and pun,
Till Maids of Honour cry,
O G–d? I’m like to die ;
How different from Pye
Give over punning, George—with laughing I’ll expire.
“Then give a butt of sack, I'll say,
And on the sackbutt I will play:
But sack the cash likewise.
Penn'd in his Bench,” here let me pen
Odes to the very best of men,
And laud him to the skies.
“Through life I’ve had a hellish prance,
A kind of damn’d bad Morris-dance—
'Tis time now for repose.
Then give me, king, thy wine to drink,
And lend me paper, pens, and ink,
I’ll write, till all my senses sink,
Thy praise, and our focs.
“GEORGE Colm AN.”
“My Lord,
“Having many hours of idleness on my hands, and being
an adept at versification, it would not be unacceptable to me to
* Melina Place was in the rules of the King’s Bench, and George
resided at No. 7, a considerable time. Delpini, the famous clown,
escaped a like fate by writing to the Prince of Wales, “By de * * * *,
if your Royal Highness not help me, I shall go live in your Papa's
Bench.” But the Prince succoured him
VOL. II. Y
322 APPENDIX.
try the experiment of writing the Laureat Odes, in order to
ascertain if that new pursuit would kill the ennui by which I
am devoured. Being in politics between a Whig and a Jacobin,
the subject of our Sovereign's praise will have so much of the
Romaunt in my eyes, as sufficiently to resemble the species of
composition in which I am most successful. My desires, my
Lord, do not point at the perquisites or emoluments of the
office. Wine I now loath—money I detest—praise is irksome to
me—and the world only one dull round of apathy and misan-
thropy. It is for variety I undertake the task, and, if possible,
to amuse the forlorn.
“ BYRON.”
We have only room for very limited extracts from this
candidate's probationary ode.
“Three hosts combine to offer sacrifice;
Three tongues prefer strange olisons on high ;
Three splendid standards charm the pale blue skies;
The shouts are France, Spain, Albion, victory !
The ‘foe presumptuous, and the brave “Ally,”
* That fights’ for liberty, nor fights in vain,
* Are met; and low on earth the spoilers lie,
To feed the crow on Salamanca’s ‘plain,
And fertilise the field they idly hoped to gain.'”
“ he, whose nod,
* Has tumbled' feeble monarchs ‘from their sway,’
Abhorr'd of men, and surely cursed of God;
Is forced now his murd’rous arm to stay :
Soon have his myrmidons been swept away.”
“Borders of the Lakes,
“l lth August.
“My Lord,
“I have just received tiding of the demise of the lamented
Mr. Pye. Grief for the loss suffered by the nation in so
inestimable a genius will scarcely permit my sensibility to turn
connectedly to worldly concerns; but, simple as I am, if it
should please your good lordship to nominate me to the vacant
Laurel, in good sooth I will address me to the office with my
MY WRITINGS. 323
dearest ability; and for office I trust your lordship will
acknowledge my perfect aptitude.
“I am, my Lord,
“With the utmost gratitude, respect, and admiration,
“Your Lordship's
“Most obedient, devoted,
“And very humble servant,
« W. WORDSWORTH.”
Here follows a specimen of this gentleman's writing—
“Great ‘Lawgiver ! yet thou dost wear
The godhead's most benignant grace,
Nor know we anything so fair
As is the smile' on George's face.
“‘Flowers laugh before ” him * on their beds,
And fragrance in ' his ‘footing treads;"
He does ‘preserve the stars from wrong,
And the most ancient Heav'ns, through him, “are fresh and strong.'” “
“We poets in our youth begin in gladness,
But thereof comes in the end despondency and madness.’t
“Sack and a salary are: “there,
Few visions have I seen more fair;
Nor many prospects of delight
More pleasing than that simple sight.”
‘My heart leaps up when I behold '$
An office rear'd on high :
* So was it when my life began ;
So is it now I am a man ;
So be it when I shall grow old,
Or let me die l
The child is father of the man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by ” Sack and Salary /
* Ode to Duty.
+ Resolution and Independence.
: “Look, five blue eggs are gleaming there.” See Verses on a
Sparrow's Nest. § Wordsworth's Poems, p. 44.
Y 2
324 APPENDIX.
Who comes next }
“My LoRD,-
“Having been honoured with the patronage of his Royal
Highness our most gracious Prince Regent, H.R.H. A.B.C.D.
E.F.G.H. and all the most illustrious of our nobility, I presume
to solicit your attention to my claim to the vacant seat of the
Laureat. Odes, my Lord, are nothing to my Muse. I will do
wonders.
“‘When energising objects men pursue,
What are the prodigies they cannot do?”
“LUCRETIUS BUSBY.”
(Ohel jam satis /)
“N.B. My son, G. F. B., Esquire, is willing either to write in
conjunction with me, or, if more agreeable, recite my odes to the
court.—L. B.”
“12th August.
“My Lord,
“As I never can resign the pleasures of hope, though
there may be many more excellent candidates than myself;
many whose political opinions are more German to the nature of
the office, or whose minds are better attuned to the celebration of
royal praises; I cannot resist the impulse I feel to offer myself
as a candidate for the bays. I will not debase myself by sub-
mitting any specimen of what my Muse is capable of. Such
petty-fogging meanness is neither consistent with the national
pride, nor the personal consciousness, of
“THOS. CAMPBELL.”
“My Lord,
“The office of Poet Laureat being vacant, unmoved by
any sinister motives, and actuated only by the pure love of fame,
I will, if thought worthy of the appointment, undertake to fulfil
its duties, by giving a New-year Ode in the style of a fairy tale,
and, duly mingling seriousness with lightness, a Birth-day Ode
from the Bible. Should this candid offer merit your lordship's
approbation, you may command, as your future Laureate,
“SAUL SOTHEBY.”
MY WRITINGS. 325
BLANK WERSE FXEMPLAR.
“Daughters of Britain ; praise our noble Prince
* Break into songſ with harp and tabret lift
Your voices up, and weave with joy the dance;
And to your twinkling footsteps, toss aloft
Your arms.
Shout ye And ye make answer.” Grah’m ‘has slain
His thousands;” Well'sley “his tens of thousands slain.
Sing a new song.’”
Tumc ad libitum.
“King David, in his sark,
He danced in front of the ark,
His religious freedom to show ;
No gloomy bigot was he,
The slave of intolerancy :
He caper'd in ecstasy,
And flung his limbs to and fro;
Tol de rol.
* Ah would that our Prince like him
Were full of frolic and whim,
In like manner to dance the Hays ; *
O'er Protestant scruples skip,
Give Constitution the slip,
And tip us the Catholic trip,
As jig-led in ancient days.
Tol de rol.”
“The Lakes, 25th August.
“My LoftD,-
“Earnestly devoted to the Muses, and to every kind of
literature, may I presume to offer myself to your lordship's
notice, as one who would be extremely glad to see what can be
done after Pye. My Lord, I will not vaunt myself, but refer
you to my works, of which I have produced very many, more
perhaps than your lordship has had time to read ; but I may,
without vanity, venture to assure your lordship, that no Epic
Poet has ever yet exceeded
“Your humble servant,
“ROBERT SOUTHEY.”
* No allusion to the Secretary of the Catholic Board.
326 APPENDIX.
EXEMPLAR.
FOR THE BIRTH-DAY.
“Oh King or Prince
“Charm'd be thy life
From the weapons of strife,
From stone and from wood,
From fire and from flood,
From the serpent’s tooth,
And the beasts of blood;’
From the curse of Kehama,
And ev'ry other curse or dam-a.
May sickness ne'er harm thee,
And constant health charm thee,
May the lands that are thine,
Fruit never deny thee,
And water still bear thee
Where all thy foes fly thee.
‘And the winds shall not touch thee,
When they pass by thee;
And the dews shall not wet thee,
When they’ only ‘fall nigh thee."
“Then what a happy prince you’ll be
With a Poet Laureat such as me;
When duly here, to George the Regent's praise,
My prince, as with an angel’s voice of song,
Pour my melodious lays
Upon the gales of even,
And sounding strenuous like a gong,
I lift his fame to th' north-west gate of heaven,
Such harmony to all my notes is given.”
“Selkirkshire, 10th Aug.
“My Lord,
“My Minstrelsy is so renowned, that I may scantly
doubt of success in this contest. In truth, I begin to be afear'd
that the booksellers will soon think meet to retrench in the pur-
chase of my ballads; and only, as I am anxious to have a horse
in the stable, do I submit my claims to your judgment, as a
candidate for a hundred pounds sterling per annum, and a butt
of good sack, as in older times, on condition of furnishing a
certain quantum of rhyme, at which your lordship may have
heard I possess great alacrity. The verity is, I can put one
MY WRITINGS. 327
hundred rhymes together in a day with great ease and facility;
so that if we can complete this bargain, there is no peril of
having sufficiency of verses for the price from
“Yours truly,
« WAT SCOTT.” +
This author having enclosed a description of a court-day, of
about 900 lines, we can only find room for a small but eminently
poetical, picturesque, vigorous, and precise part thereof, describing
the Beef-Eaters, &c.
“Ten men in arms came at their backs,
With halbert, bill, and battle-axe :
Then twenty yeomen, two and two,
In hosen white and jerkins new,
With auncient javelins in their hands,
Obey'd their captain's loud commands.
“'Tis meet that I should tell you now,
How fairly arm’d, and order'd how,
The Soldier of the Guard,
With musquet, pike, and morion,
Stood sentry as the crowd throng'd on
Through Carlton House’s yard:
Fifers and trumpeters were there;
The gunner held his linstock yare,
For welcome-shot prepared.
“The Guards their morrice pikes advanced,
The trumpets flourish’d brave;
The cannons from the ramparts glanced,
And thund'ring welcome gave.
“Two pursuivants, whom tabards deck,
With silver scutcheon round their neck,
Stood on the steps of stone,
By which you reach the outer gate;
And there with equal pomp and state,
They tell you to walk on :
For which their kindness to requite,
Some ready cash (at Court rare 1) Wight,
May tip them half-a-crown.”
Enough surely this is sublime—at any rate it is circum-
stantial 1 ||
* He is the man after all.
328 ... APPENDIX.
PRIVATE.
, “My LoRD,-
“Though my humble pretensions as a poet may not
entitle me to enter the lists with the bards of high fame, who
will doubtless be competitors for the bays, yet, my Lord, there
is one secret point which I trust will have considerable weight
in inducing his Majesty's ministers to look with a favourable
eye upon me, and mayhap tempt them to promote my passage to
the object of my great ambition. The point to which I allude is
this; I have decidedly more Borough interest than any poet who
may address your lordship on this subject, all of which I am
willing to devote to the service of ministers, on condition of
their appointing me successor to Mr. Pye, 3.
“Their humble servant,
“GEORGE CRABBE.”
EXTRACT.
“Lo where the Prince, with glories cover'd o'er,
From wild Miami’s and from Ebro’s shore ;
Thence the proud strain of victory resounds,
And triumph's shouts fill Britain’s ample bounds ;
Whose heroes wield their dreaded arms in war,
And drive th’ invaders from their prey afar,
Reluctant flying from their hoarded spoils,
While freedom springs from free-born Britons' toils ''
“LoRD NUGENT's compliments to Lord Hertford, would be
extremely happy to be crowned with the Laurel. As he is the
only one of his family blessed with poetical talents, he conceives
that his stake in the Muse's hedge ought to be planted near
those of his relations in the political. Portugal speaks his
celebrity, (did Lord H . . . . ever read it, or hear of it?) and if
his physiognomy should not be thought indicative of genius, he
begs only to refer, for its contradiction, to that poem, which he
trusts, it will be acknowledged, gives the lie to his face . . . . .
Sunday noon.
MY WRITINGS. . 329
“N.B. Lord N. is just going to be married, and sings thus
blithely:
+ 4. * * +3. * *
+ %. * 3& º: 3. +:
* + + + * +
+ * +& * •º +. +
* + + * <& +é *
[We have avoided extracting the accompanying poem: it is
such infernal trash. We observe, moreover, that it is disloyal,
being written at the expense of the country on some of the
late Lord Temple's stationery.]
We have no room, at present, for the other candidates
though it is a cruel injustice (of which we are sincerely sensible)
to withhold from the public the specimens of their productions,
of which we are in possession, especially as we were desirous to
refute, by their promulgation, an injurious opinion, which has
acquired but too much weight with the unthinking multitude,
that these authors had already written more than was worth
reading. The names of some of them will prove how keen our
regret must be in being deterred from rescuing them from this
barbarous and unjust insinuation. We have a few strophes and
antistrophes from Memory Rogers; from the twin Smiths, who
have offered to belaureat the task in the dual number, accord-
ing to the Athenian fashion; from Coleridge, who says he
would be glad to turn his hand to anything which would leave
him no cause for Remorse ; from John Taylor (not the Water
Poet), who has backed his pretensions from his connexion with
that loyal paper the “Sun,” and, having defended ministers, right
or wrong, for the last thousand years: from, and with him, the
Chief of Chiefs, we will close our catalogue, William Henry
Fitzgerald. Having, by a fine stratagem, disclaimed the
appointment in the newspapers, he, next day, wrote to all the
ministers and high officers of state separatim, to inform them of
his modesty . . . . . The hint was palpable, but it would not do ;
for Lord Hertford enclosed his application to us with the others.
These were the last lines:
330 APPENDIX.
“Blest year !
George rules sublime: while tyrants domineer,
'Tis his to far and wide merge his mild sway;
Thames, Shannon, Tweed,
His bounties feed,
While Lawrence, Ganges, and Sen'gal, his lovely rule obey.
Hail happy day that gave him birth,
Day most auspicious for earth :
How many nations joy in thy return,
And gladdening myriads with ardour burn,
As my poor verse shall show.
Yankies no longer jaw
No longer Spain cries Ah
Sicilia’s blest with British law,
And Portugalia free—enjoys her O—
— Port—o 12"
[Caetera desunt.
REVIEW EXTRAORDINARY.
PoETRY may be said to delight in fiction : creation, as the word
implies, is its chief object. Soaring on the wings of fancy and
imagination, new worlds and new beings present themselves to
the poet's phrensied view. To the realities he adds all the
possibilities of existence, and, unsatisfied pedestribus historiis,
with plain narrations, in which only human actors and human
exploits are exhibited, he enriches his scene and interests the
reader by the introduction of preternatural beings. Homer
could not sing the contentions between the Grecian and Dardan
hosts, at the siege of Troy, without elevating his subject by
associating divinities with heroes, and forcing the gods them-
selves to bear a part in the mighty conflict. He employed the
popular superstitions of his age to impart a grandeur and
solemnity to his theme, selecting from the mythology which
then prevailed the machinery of his immortal Iliad.
The divinities of Greece having been transported to, and
worshipped at, Rome, the Latin epic poets were forced to adopt
the machinery, as well as to follow the plans, of Homer—they
had little left except to be servile copyists of this great original:
but when the Muses began to be courted by our northern
ancestors, poetry was obliged to have recourse for its machinery
to new superstitions, and to substitute Gothic demons for
MY WRITINGS. 331
Grecian deities: Odin and Thor superseded Jupiter and Mars.
In this we are of opinion poetry sustained no loss. Nothing is
perhaps more truly adapted to its genius than the Gothic fictions
and manners. The military institutions and customs of
chivalry, united with the gloomy theology and fables of the
north, which included a system of magic, enchantment, and
prodigy, opened a spacious field to the epic adventurer. The
old romances, though they wanted powers to cultivate it to
perfection, serve to demonstrate to the discerning critic its
extensive capabilities. Ariosto, Tasso, and our Spenser have
employed them to singular advantage; and had Homer flourished
in the Gothic age, the supposition is not extravagant, that he
might have produced a work superior to the Iliad itself, as he
would certainly have found more unlimited scope for his genius.
In the refined gallantry and military fanaticism of this period
there was more of the tender as well as of the terrific, and more
to engage the softer affections of the heart as well as to harrow
up the soul, than the civil and religious state of ancient Greece
presented to his observation, or to his fancy.
We have been led to make this observation, not from what
is found in the work before us, but from the circumstance of no
effort having been made to enrich its pages from these sources.
Its claim to public approbation rests not on the exploits of the
heroes of antiquity; it is derived from the exertions of those
who have figured in modern times. Saying this, however, we do
not wish to be understood to assert that its pages are occupied
with the frivolous occurrences of modern life, or with the insipid
anecdotes of fashionable folly, which have of late swelled almost
every new publication. If, however, it has not those deeds of
“high emprize,” of which the lovers of romance are so much
enamoured, sung in never-dying strains, and if it cannot boast
of that fashionable chit-chat which is so ardently admired by the
readers of modern novels, on the other hand it avoids that
disgusting bombast which frequently attends an attempt to
celebrate the former, and that atrocious slander which is too
generally the characteristic of the latter. If it is to be censured
as wanting that animating fire and fascinating vivacity usually
sought for in works of that description to which we have
alluded, it possesses nothing that can be regarded as insulting
332 APPENDIX.
to common sense, nothing to put female delicacy out of
countenance.
This work is understood to be compiled by Mr. Hoffman,
a gentleman well known in the literary world, and who has been
for some time regarded, if not as a rising, at least as a stationary
genius. The present is, certainly, not his greatest work; but
we are happy to say, that comparing it with his former produc-
tions of the same cast, we cannot discover that there is any
falling off.
While we bear testimony to the merits of this work, as in
no way offending against the purest morality, we cannot but
admit that there are parts which, in our opinion, would admit
of considerable improvement. It, however, affords us no small
satisfaction to find that one work, at least, has been produced in
the present day, in which, besides being recommended by the
circumstance of its being not only free from nonsense and
immorality, but wholly exempt from those errors of style which
too frequently disfigure works of merit, from the beginning to
the end we have not been able to discover one fault in grammar,
or even in punctuation. Its pages are not sullied by one im-
proper, nor even by one inelegant, expression. We cannot say
that it is recommended to us by all the fire of Walter Scott;
but if it has not the beauties of his style, it is happily free from
its defects, and much as we may regret the want of its harmony,
we are in a very considerable degree consoled by the absence of
its affectation. . .
We cannot conclude without observing, that this work is in
an eminent degree entitled to the praise of consistency, and this
of itself is no common merit. No statements are made at the
end, which are at variance with anything contained in the early
part of the book. Nothing is advanced to influence the thought-
less, or to mislead the ignorant. In no part are we disgusted
with an assumption of importance, or of superior information,
which is not warranted by facts. It is never attempted to baffle
the understanding by an affectation of mystery. We are never
perplexed by a series of asterisks, dashes, or initial and final
letters, significantly marked in italics. Its contents are in no
part unintelligible or even doubtful; but the work is in every
part fair, clear, and perfectly plain. With such claims to
MY WRITINGS. 333
approbation, possessing merits so great, and with no faults but
of omission, this production, though not all that could be wished,
is still of considerable value; and we have no hesitation in
recommending it as more harmless than most modern works of
fiction, and as a performance which, if it does not enrapture,
does not offend ; if it does not convulse with laughter, does not
disgust with ribaldry; and if it does not please with novelty of
thought, does not excite distaste from impotent attempts at
dazzling conceits. Its errors are few, trivial, and unimportant ;
its beauties, numerous as its leaves, apparent, and perfectly
original. The uniformity of its style is unbroken by plagiarism
or quotation, and what some hypercritics might challenge as
sameness or insipidity is amply compensated by its purity, entire
connection, fidelity to its subject, adherence to truth, clearness
of conception, and delicacy of execution. These praises are not
undeserved ; these plaudits not exaggerated; for, reader, the
object of this critique is—A BLANK Book.”
THE LOVES OF MAY.
Indeed such charms as yours, sweet May,
Might well excuse a slip or two;
But gossip flowers begin to say
Things one could scarcely think of you !
The lily, like some virgin pure,
Astonish'd, leans upon the sedge ;
The pretty primrose sits demure,
Shock'd, at the bottom of the hedge.
Nor flowers alone report the tales,
Such gossips might be deem’d untrue;
But meads and groves, banks, streams, and gales,
Conspire to whisper shame on you.
“And what, then P” Dare you ask it, May,
While all the vales declare it true P
What ' answer your own question, pray 2–
What pass'd between young Spring and you ?
In vain you thought the dark would hide;
The morning peep'd across the night,
And caught you more than side by side,
And blush'd more crimson at the sight.
334 APPENDIX.
In vain you thought the grove conceal’d :—
The west wind crept among the trees,
And all the secret soon reveal’d,
In whispers to each passing breeze.
In vain you thought all nature slept,
A secret eye observed your bliss ;
Awake on purpose Silence kept,
And softly counted every kiss.
The merry birds the whole affair
Had learnt before the sun rose long ;
And through the carol-shaken air
They tuned it in each amorous song.
In vain would you deny, fair May;
The ground itself a witness proves;
The grass is greener where you lay,
And new-blown flowers betray your loves.
Well may the zephyrs whisper sighs, -
When things like this are brought to fame;
Well may the morning's colour rise,
And all the roses blush with shame.
Well may the flowers so gossip it,
Well be surprised the lily pure,
Well may the pretty primrose sit
So sweetly pensive and demure.
Nor is this all, O, wayward May !
When such examples once you lend,
Who knows what hearts are led astray,
Or where love's mischief finds an end ?
Our chastest maids th’ infection feel;
The fluttering growing passion swells;
Nor can the downcast eye conceal
What the quick throbbing bosom tells.
As simplicity is the order of the day, we are sure the following
Song, to the fashionable tune of “Geordy Kinlock,” must please
our fair readers. The subject is as old as the moon
“Says Eve unto Adam, to Adam, to Adam,
Says Eve unto Adam, Come sit down by me;
Says Eve unto Adam, to Adam, to Adam,
Says Eve unto Adam, Come sit down by me;
AUTHORS AND ARTISTS. 335
Come sit you down, and rest awhile,
It will the tedious hours beguile;
I likewise beg you'll stay to tea—
I'm afraid though, says Adam, you’ve no bollea
“So down then sat Adam, sat Adam, sat Adam,
So down then sat Adam to gossip with Eve;
The maid she was happy, was happy, was happy,
The maid she was happy, as you may believe :
They pass'd that night, and many more,
As never couple did before /
A happier pair could not have been found
If you'd traversed the garden of Eden round !
“But slily came Satan, came Satan, came Satan,
But slily came Salan, and whisper'd the dame,
“If you don’t eat the apple, the apple, the apple,
If you don't eat the apple you’re vastly to blame.
'Twill make you wise without dispute,
Then why not taste such charming fruit?”
Poor Eve bought wisdom much too dear,
Or perhaps there had none of us now been here !!”
B, p. 42.
I had purposed in this Appendix to have gone more into the
details of authorship, and demonstrated beyond controversy,
from the multitude of the unsuccessful and unfortunate, and the
paucity in numbers of those who have reached any moderate
degree of opulence, the truth of the positions I have laid down
in regard to literary pursuits. But the task has grown too large
for the summary view I intended for it; and in order to do it
justice, I must defer making up my materials to a future and
more convenient opportunity. In the mean time, I may refer
my readers, for a taste, to “Disraeli's Calamities of Authors,”
and assure them of a list from me not less disastrous and miser-
able. Such scenes of destitution as I have witnessed, and thank
God often been enabled to alleviate ; would force the most
buoyant proclaimer of the literary man’s millenium to confess
that there was more universal failure in their objects, and frus-
tration of their hopes, and also a lower depth of woe into
336 APPENDIX.
which they were often precipitated, than could be predicated of
any other educated and intelligent class. How does the
pride of genius aggravate the suffering ! That pride, like ivy,
climbs the highest, and luxuriates the most, where the ruin is
the greatest, where the stateliest fabric is mouldering most
rapidly and surely into decay, where the noble mind is over-
thrown and all is wreck:—
“Why to this stormy world, from their long rest,
Are these recall’d, to be again displeased,
Where, during Nature's reign, we are opprest,
Till we by Death's high privilege are eased.
“As rivers to their ruin hasty be,
So life (still earnest, loud, and swift) runs post
To the vast gulf of death, as they to sea,
And vainly travels to be quickly lost.”—DAVENANT.
I abstain, then, for the present, from going into this sad and
painful inquiry ; but cannot help suggesting only one argument
more, to show the disparity of the rewards which attend the
productions of authors and artists; assuredly not begrudging but
heartily wishing increase to the latter. But let us quietly set
down, in two lines, ten of the one class opposite to ten of the
other, and ask the public judgment on the comparison :-
CRABBE. EDWIN IANDSEER.
WORDSWORTII. COLLINS.
SOUTHEY. TURNER.
TALFOURD. EAST LAKE.
SHERIDAN KNOWLES. STAN FIELD.
REN YON. ROBERTS.
TENNYSON. BOXALL.
CROLY. MA CLISE.
SWAIN. UWINS.
BEATTIE. WIEBSTER.
The first column of high intellectual names, which will live
for ever in the annals of literature, for the delight they have
afforded to mankind, might sum up all their pecuniary gains
through the whole of their lives and labours at a very few thou-
sands, probably not more altogether than Turner amassed; and
if you add the sums, very justly and meritoriously earned by the
other nine, you will hardly come to the conclusion that the Poet
AUTHORS AND ARTISTS. 337
and the Painter are equally well off in the distribution of
remuneration for their labours. I contend, therefore, that higher
intellect being requisite in the one case than in the other—not
that the artist is too liberally encouraged, but that the author is
ill requited and wronged.
I have not mentioned such names as those of Burns, Hogg,
and a long catalogue of others whose lives have been spent in
acquiring lasting fame in the turmoil of lasting struggle for bare
existence; and only add, for the present, the case of Mr. Horne,
the author of an Epic, which could not command a great
sale at the price of one farthing, and whom one of my critics has
set forth to show that infinitely higher genius than mine has
been far less rewarded—which may be true enough—but surely it
makes for my argument (and not the reverse) that literary merit
is rather an unproductive freehold.
“TO THE EDITOR OF THE DAILY NEWS.
“Australian ship Kent, Plymouth Sound, June 9, 1852.
“SIR,
“Various statements having been made in certain
quarters of the press concerning my departure for Australia,
may I request you will do me the kindness to insert these few
words. Considering the great appreciation I received on the
publication of my earliest works from some of the noblest intel-
lects of the time, and that during a long period I have experienced
the same from nearly all the foremost men in literature, in
science, and in art, it would be equally absurd and ungrateful in
me to complain of neglect. But while I repudiate all personal
complaints at those circumstances which from times immemorial
(and memorial) have been the common inheritance of all poets
who had a lofty aim and no adventitious aids, I may be per-
mitted simply to record the fact of twenty years of public
indifference. This has continued nearly unbroken, so far as
my substantive works are concerned, in the face of more
elaborate philosophical analysis and criticism, and far higher
eulogies, than any poet could reasonably expect during his life.
With this record I take my leave.
"VOL. II. Z
338 APPENDIX.
“Let me add, however, that I bear with me a profound emotion
towards those, whether strangers or friends (and they are not
a few), by whom my writings have been received in the spirit
in which they were composed.
“I am, Sir, your obedient servant,
“ R. H. HORNE.”
C, p. 64.
As few of my readers can have any notion of what this
entertainment consisted, besides being half stolen as the book
lay on the table, whilst waiting, perhaps, some tedious time till
the Secretary got to be disengaged, I may describe this Treasury
official minute book. It was, and I daresay is, a goodly
volume, more in width than length, and every page ruled with
perpendicular columns, in which vacant places the names, and
sometimes brief descriptions of the parties recommended, and
the names of their recommenders, were severally entered, in
line, and on the last column notes or remarks upon either or
all these component elements. These were sometimes so curt
and facetious, that it is probable no administration ever left their
book for the perusal of their successors. “What, again ”
“Would he have the whole patronage of the office 7" “Too
bad P’ “Could such absurdity be imagined ” And occasion-
ally observations still less complimentary, and hints as to the
nature of the replies to be given, were scattered through these
pages. It was also curious to see who were the seekers of these
favours, and their revelations of political influences so unex-
pected, that they could hardly expect belief, and would not
have been believed if stated anywhere else. The political secre-
taries of the Treasury, above all the rest of the government, must
be the depositories of extraordinary secrets.
The “MORNING CHRONICLE.” 339
D, p. 65.
In truth the “Morning Chronicle " was at this bitter
opposition time very unscrupulous about its statements; and
particularly so under the head of “Foreign Correspondence,”
which provoked from me the following squib :—
ON THE PRE-EMIN ENT MERITS OF THE & MORNING
CHRONICLE * NEWSPAPER,
ESPECIALLY IN OBTAINING FOR FIGN INTELLIGF. NCE.
Most newspapers, now,
Find it hard, anyhow,
Their columns to fill with good stuff,
When no Foreign mails come,
But the “Chronicle's" hum,
And that is aye foreign enough—
Quite Foreign.
No matter, beside,
Or for wind, or for tide,
For disasters by sea or by land.
Its correct foreign mail
Never happens to fail,
Of finding its way to the Strand—
Full of Foreign.
Nor mistakes on the road
(So uncertain abroad),
Its arrivals retard or advance,
Than if Ghent were in Kent,
Milan news Mile-end sent,
And Paris adorned Petty-France 1
All Foreign.
“Anton Di Ravenna,"
“Giusippe Di Sienna,”
With “ Drechster of Nurnberg” have shone,
And “ Gottlieb Treumun”
ls by no one out-done,
In fibbing away for the Chron-
icle Foreign.
Z 2
340 APPENDIX.
Paris lies, without name;
And Milan lies the same:
And Vienna lies signed by no hand—
“An Italian”—“A Pole,”
All fill up the roll,
And “Cracovius” “crowns the bright band—
So Foreign.
The public to tickle,
These cram the Chron-icle
With wonders so wondrously true,
That our Ministers must
Very soon bite the dust,
And the Talents their courses renew—
Though Foreign.
To which happy end
These epistles all tend ;
Nor is't strange they concur in this tone;
For all Forcigners say,
Had these worthies the sway,
Every country would thrive but their own
Home—Foreign.
E., p. 71.
The Chevalier John Taylor, or “John de Taylor, Ophthalmiater,
Pont., Imp. and Royal,” or more at length, “Pontiff, Imper. and
Royal,” meaning pontifical, imperial and royal, in the years
1761–2, published one of the most amusing and ludicrous books
in the English language. Of his inordinate vanity, charlatanry,
and impudence, it is impossible to form an idea without reading
this unique work. It relates his wonderful cures of exalted
personages, and nearly all the crowned heads in Europe; his
unexampled travels over the world with his equipages and
attendants; and his extraordinary personal adventures, including
those with princesses and ladies of the highest rank in every
country, and of all ages, who sought and courted him in disguise.
His marvellous wit, his irresistible powers “as master of the art
of pleasing,” and his consequent successes, cast the stories of
* “All these are signatures of Foreign correspondents in the
* Chronicle' within the last three weeks. What a pity it has no
British letter-writers to counteract their poisons.”
CHEWALIER, DE TAYLOR. 341
Ferdinand Mendez Pinto completely into the shade, and leave
the Chevalier de Taylor alone in his glory, superior to Paracelsus,
Katterfelto, and the whole succession of quacks since the world
was created.
It would require a large space to exhibit even faintly the
magnificence and potency of this marvellous man, to whom, if
his birth-place, Norwich, has not erected a splendid public
monument of everlasting brass, it must be owing to a condition
of desperate blindness of which the skill of no opthalmiater could
effect a cure.” The title-page will say a little for the author:
THE HISTORY OF THE TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES
OF THE
CHEWALIER JOHN TAYLOR,
OPHTHAL MIATER,
Pontifical—Imperial and Royal—The Kings of Poland, Den-
mark, Sweden, the Electors of the Holy Empire—The Princes
of Saxe Gotha, Mecklenberg, Anspach, Brunswick, Parma,
Modena, Zerbst, Lorraine, Saxony, Hesse Cassel, Holstein,
Salzbourg, Bavière, Liège, Bareith, Georgia, &c., Pr. in Opt.
C. of Rom. M.D.—C.D.—Author of 45 Works in different
Languages: the Produce for upwards of thirty Years, of the
greatest Practice in the Cure of distempered Eyes, of any in
the Age we live—Who has been in every Court, Kingdom,
Province, State, City, and Town of the least Consideration
in all Europe, without exception.
WRITTEN BY HIMSELF.
This Work contains all most worthy the Attention of a
Traveller—also a Dissertation on the Art of Pleasing, with
* Himself alone could describe the important event:—“I shall only
say on that head, that in Norwich I first beheld the light. That it was in
that happy city I first began to breathe. It was there that I first became
acquainted with the glories of the sun. A city memorable for many great
events in our English annals; and it is possible that its having been the
place of my birth, may not one day be judged unworthy the notice of
342 APPENDIX.
the most interesting Observations on the Force of Prejudice;
numberless Adventures, as well amongst Nuns and Friars, as
with Persons in high Life ; with a Description of a great
Variety of the most admirable Rehations, which, though told
in his well known peculiar Manner, each one is strictly true,
and within the Chevalier's own Observations and Knowledge.
—Interspersed with the Sentiments of Crowned Heads, &c.,
in Favour of his Enterprises: and an Address to the public,
showing that his Profession is distinct and independent of
every other Part of Physic.
INTRODUCED BY AN HUMBLE APPFAL OF THE AUTHOR TO THE
SOWEREIGNS OF EUROPE.
ADDRESSED TO HIS ONLY SON.
Qui visum vitam dat.
Going thus about giving light and life to all comers, it is
annoying to think, that whilst so admired and courted by great
ladies, et cetera, there were some plague-spots on the continent
where the Chevalier was not welcomed. Thus he informs us—
“I must not here omit one of the most extraordinary adven-
tures of my life, which happened in another of the most consider-
able courts in Europe, which has done me as much honour, with
regard to my capacity, if not more, in the opinion of the great,
than any other. I arrived in this court, furnished with every
recommendation from many of the highest personages, proper
to procure me an audience of the sovereign, and the protection
of the courtiers. Notice being given of my arrival, and all my
letters presented by a proper officer, the sovereign seemed so
pleased and desirous (as he was most graciously pleased to say),
of seeing a man who had made himself so singularly remarkable,
as well by his reception in every court, as from his success with
posterity. Whether I err or not, in having this said, will be best known
to those who shall have read the story of my life. For the present I shall
repeat that it was in this famous city that my mother became first
acquainted with my existence; it was there she first heard the news of the
birth of her first dear son.”
CHEVALIER DE TAYLOR. 343
so many great princes, and other great personages, by acts of
his profession, that the hour was next day fixed for honouring
me with an audience, being that evening invited to supper at
the marshal's table as usual ; in the palace there happened a
trifling dispute between myself and a celebrated wit, then
a favourite at court; the latter, to whom at that time I was a
stranger, was so angry at my being flattered to have gained the
superiority in the argument, that, in revenge, he so artfully
prejudiced, the same night, the sovereign against me, that, when
I was next morning prepared to throw myself at his feet, not
thinking any more of the idle babble the night preceding,
always supposing that all conversations round the table, amongst
men of honour, are never suffered to transpire——an officer came
to my apartments, and told me, that the sovereign would grant
me no audience, but required that I might continue my road.
My readers may suppose how greatly I was astonished at this
information, on remembering that I never was in any court
furnished with such powerful recommendations as to this, nor
ever saw a fairer prospect of meeting with all the attention that
I could possibly hope for ; and above all, not knowing the cause
of this disgrace; finding that I had no other remedy but to
obey, I immediately ordered my equipage, which being then at
the crisis of my grandeur, having with me no less than two
coaches and six, above ten servants in livery, besides gentlemen,
my companions, in my own pay—I parted instantly for the
capital, and being charged with letters for the commander, I
waited on him, without discovering the least uneasiness, or
saying ought of my adventure with the master. Being detained
at his table, and assured of his desire to serve me from the
recommendation I brought him, dinner was scarcely over before
he received a messenger, by the best authority, which was
in substance, that that celebrated Englishman, who that day
arrived at the capital, must continue his road; the commander
addressing himself to me, said, sir, this must mean you; on this
I most respectfully answered, that I knew it did, and told him all
that had happened; upon which his excellency immediately asked
me, what was my answer Obey, sir, said I, without doubt, but
as there is no time limited, to-morrow will do as well as to-day.
This was to me most afflicting news, because here were my
344 APPENDIX.
head-quarters, where I had caused to be assembled, by public
notice, persons who wanted my aid, many from the neighbouring
countries, and some from distant nations: having several years
observed, in foreign countries, to fix, as I passed, a certain place,
to get together all persons complaining of distempered eyes,
that I might give them better attendance, and thence be enabled
to obtain the desired success. Knowing the commander to be
my friend, I continued three days longer, imagining that this
threatening storm might blow over, at least that I might know
in what I had erred, and thence be enabled to seek a proper
remedy ; in the mean time I continued to enrol all my blind
subjects, which were in a greater number in proportion, and of
greater quality, than I had ever met with in any time of my
life; but knowing myself not to be secure in my situation, I
did not venture to do any operation ; but told these my people,
of whatsoever rank, that I was busy in preparing necessaries for
their cure. The fourth morning after my arrival, the com-
mander received another message from superior authority, with
positive orders for my departure early the next morning. My
time thus being limited, and my danger not small, my invention
was on the rack to know what I could do to save my glory, and
to secure myself from the loss that must necessarily ensue from
my departure; the injury that would be done to so many
people, and amongst them many of the great, that came from
all parts for my aid, could not but to them be very considerable,
and to me immense ; for I must lose not only the profits arising
from the cure of these people, but the reputation that I should
have possibly acquired in consequence. Besides, my misfortune
would not end here, for my leaving a country so suddenly, and
from a cause unknown, could not fail of exposing me to censure
amongst the people in many other nations, where this account
of my quick departure should be reported, as being myself the
most public man under the sun, being personally known not only
in every town in Europe, but in every part of the globe. Re-
flecting thus on my dreadful situation, and believing myself within
a few hours of certain ruin, a happy thought preserved my glory,
enabled me to quit the country with the highest honour, secured
me the good opinion of the public, added to my fortune, and
lastly, gave peace to my mind; and here follows a most faithful
CHEWALIER DE TAYLOR. 345
relation. Examining my book where the names of the persons of
every rank who demanded my relief were entered, and fixing on
eight or ten of the principal, I ordered my equipage to the door,
put a few bandages, and some instruments in my pocket, took
with me my chief assistant servant, and set forward to visit these
great personages; on my arrival at each one, I said, that I was
come with all necessaries to make the operation for their cure,
and laboured to appear quite easy in my mind: at which they
all seemed pleased, discovering their impatience for my assist-
ance. When having seated them with great ceremony, I touched
their eyes with an instrument, without giving the least pain,
and called it my operation ; this done, I applied proper bandages,
and rolled up their eyes one after another, as fast as I could
continue my visits, with three or four yards of ribbon ; after
having gone through this ceremony with all, I spoke to each one
to the following effect:—“Now, your excellency, my operation
ãs done, and I make no doubt but that you will be perfectly
restored : there remains only my attendance, without which
your excellency may have a fever. Your eyes may swell; they
may be inflamed, and you may lose your sight—if not your life.’
And in this manner I addressed every one, after the business
was over, that I styled for my then present purpose an operation :
their excellencies, one and all, in their different houses, dis-
covered, as we may suppose, the greatest surprise at this relation
of mine; and asked me, in the utmost confusion, what I meant.
I told each one, that I had orders by authority to depart the
next morning, that I am going to such a court, and that if
they wished to avoid all these evils, they must prepare their
equipages to follow me; that I would not speak of these
things before the operation, dreading to create in them such
fears, as might have made my operation unsuccessful; and to
sum up all, they were under an absolute necessity of going
with me, or employ all their interest to keep me with
them for their sight, and perhaps their lives, as I had said,
depended on my presence, and there were no other remedies
since the operations were done. The business of each one was
immediately to put all means at work to procure my stay, which
they all did, but, as I expected, in vain. That evening I sent a
proper notice to all, to be ready the next morning, repeating
346 APPENDIX.
their danger by my absence. The time arrived for my departure,
when I set out with my own equipage, which I have already
said, was the most brilliant I ever kept ; I was followed by a
train of coaches, and other machines, all filled with persons
complaining with disordered eyes, and continued my road, with
all my followers, till I arrived at the first town belonging to the
neighbouring sovereign : there I fixed my quarters, and resolved
to stay not only till I did my duty to these great people, but for
all who should follow me from the capital. The news of my
success with those who followed me, together with the singular
manner I parted, was soon the subject of conversation in many
provinces, and in some of the neighbouring kingdoms ; so that
in less than a month, the town was so excessively filled on my
account, that it was difficult at any price to get a lodging. The
consequences of my project were—my glory was not only
secured, but greatly augmented, by returning these great person-
ages to the capital recovered; my reputation was so much
increased, that I was attended by crowds for a long time, in
every country through which I travelled, and my reward greatly
exceeded what I had ever met with in so short a time.”
Of the rapidity of his course the following minutes inform us:—
“I set out from my native country, and began my travels, in
the year 1727.
“In this month I went to Paris, and after a few months being
there, I went through all France, every town of any considera-
tion, without exception ; and thence through all Holland, and
every town, without exception; and all this with such amazing
rapidity, that I was returned to London in November, 1735.”
“After being a little tinie in Madrid, I went with the greatest
rapidity through all the kingdom of Spain, and after going many
thousand miles post, from town to town, I returned to Madrid
in September, 1738.
“I continued at Madrid till the war was proclaimed, 1739.
“I departed immediately upon the declaration of the war, for
Lisbon, where I arrived in September, the same year; and after
about a month, began my tour through all Portugal, and the
kingdom of Algarvy, and this with such astonishing speed, that
CHEWALIER, DE TAYLOR. 347
I had finished the whole, and returned to Lisbon before the
middle of September, 1740.”
Denmark, Sweden, and everywhere else were overrun with
like celerity: the author says—
“I left Stockholm, after being honoured, as in the preceding
court, in February, 1752, and in a few months, with the greatest
rapidity, passed through every town in that kingdom ; about the
middle of November in the same year, I received an invitation to
go to Russia, and was resolved to make the whole journey by land ;
and with this view I returned to Copenhagen and Hamburgh,
and went thence through all Germany to Breslaw, through Silesia,
thence through all the principal towns, and the palatines, and in
all Poland to Warsaw the capital, thence to Mittaw in Courland,
thence to Riga and Peterburgh, and thence to Muscow ; and all
this amazing journey I travelled night and day, seldom in bed,
gave myself little or no rest on the road, and was but a few
weeks on this extraordinary expedition ; being but a short time
at Peterburgh, on my passage, travelling from the frontiers in a
trenneau, on account of the snows.
“I continued in the court of Muscow from the latter end of
January, 1753, to the middle of November in the same year,
when I began my march in a trenneau, through various parts of
that vast empire.
“In the month of March, 1754, I left this cold country, this
northern part of Europe, returned by the same road I entered
Russia, and passed with the utmost rapidity through all Germany
and Bohemia, to the southern parts of Europe; namely Italy,
and stopt scarce a day on the road, till I reached Venice, where
. I arrived about the middle of August, in the same year, and
continued there till the beginning of November, in the same year.
“Then I began the tour through all Italy, and first to Rome,
where I arrived the latter end of the same month. In January,
1755, I received from his holiness, the Senate, and the colleges
of the learned, the many remarkable dignities, of which the
particulars will be found in the following work; left Rome in
the beginning of February, in the same year, and proceeded to
Naples.
348 APPENDIX.
“In a few weeks, after having received the usual marks of
benevolence and favour from that court, and from the nobility, I
began my tour through every town of consideration in that king-
dom. In the beginning of May I returned to Naples, thence to
Rome, and met on the road, the 15th of that month, in the night,
a most dreadful accident, by being robbed at once of a large
fortune ; of the particulars hereafter. From Rome I proceeded
to Parma, Modena, and through every state and town of the least
consideration in all Italy, without exception ; and returned to
Venice the beginning of December, 1756.”
“Let all judge (he concludes) whether ever man's travels by
land equalled mine.” For languages he was Polyglot, and wrote
and spoke them all. But I cannot expect my readers to feel the
same interest in adventures a century old, which I hope they
will do in mine, and therefore 1 shall merely make room for as
much of the Chevalier as may serve to amuse a few minutes of
idle time :—
“I was invited in form to dine one day with the ladies of the
palace. Dinner being over, one of the gentlemen of the bed-
chamber, then at table, seemingly inclined to communicate to
me an affair that was not proper the company should be
acquainted with ; the substance of this pretended secret was,
that he had a poor girl, a relation of his, who waited on a lady
not far from that palace, who laboured under such a weakness of
sight, that, without my compassionate aid, she would soon be
unfit for service, requiring that I would be so good as to permit
him to send for her at that time, as my occupation was such,
that it was often not easy to get access to me. I told his Excel-
lency, as my readers may suppose, that I should be extremely
happy to have it in my power to oblige him, and requested that
he would instantly send for this young woman ; his relation and
I would retire from the company into some room his Excellency
should appoint, and give her my best advice.”
She is sent for, and—
“In a few minutes his Excellency pulled me by the coat, and
said to me, in one sentence, Dear Chevalier, retire quick, and
CHEWALIER DE TAYLOR. 349
send that girl away. I instantly obeyed, and thought myself
unnoticed ; and being conducted into the room where the sup-
posed maid-servant was waiting for me ; no sooner was I
entered, but the door was shut upon me ; there did I find, as I
believed, a charming lovely innocent, tender and deserving girl,
with her eyes directed to the earth, her dress becoming her
character, and with looks filled with every appearance of a respect-
ful modesty; being seated by her, I addressed her to this effect.
* His Excellency, to whom I find you are a relation, desired me to
give you my opinion about some complaint in your sight; pity it
is, added I, that aught should disturb the peace of so amiable an
infant; happy indeed should I be to be found the instrument of
the well-being of so desirable a person.” The pretty maiden
Smiling at this discourse, suddenly interrupted me, and said, ‘If
you please, sir, first to be informed of my complaints, and then
'twill be the time to propose the means of relief.” A reply so proper,
delivered with delicacy, and in a tone that discovered at least
the well-bred maid, I fixed my eyes upon her with such atten-
tion, that betrayed how much I wished to have it in my power
to deserve her care ; that instant I heard the company excessive
merry in the other room ; but heaven knows ' I knew not the
real cause. I judged that they were diverting themselves at
their own wit, and that I was entirely forgotten, at least I
wished that this might be the case, being myself extremely
happy in the presence of this new acquaintance. I proceeded
then to tell my pretty maid, that if the discovery of her charms
should augment my imagination, my own eyes might at length
call out for aid ; for I found my sight defective by numberless
little clouds that moved before them, and never did this happen
to me till I beheld her beauties ; be not, said I, surprised that I
tell you, all with me is not right; for when the whole man is out
of order from a cause like this, no wonder if eyes, the windows of
the soul, should share a part of the confusion. “Sir,’ says this
charming girl, interrupting me again, ‘I came not prepared to
hear such soft, such tender insinuations ; you talked,' said she,
‘ about procuring me peace with regard to my eyes; how comes
it, that you make so quick a transition from the business of the eye
to that of the heart 7' ‘because,” said I, ‘ thou excellent charmer,
when I came here I thought not of you, for you I knew not;
\
350 APPENDIX.
your eyes alone were the objects of my attention; but when I
beheld your frame, gazed on your beauties, was a hearer of your
pretty sayings, I thought not of a part, but the whole; all your
graces joined their forces, and together deprived me of all power
of reflecting on the motive that brought me to you.' No sooner
had I expressed this last phrase, but the company in the next
room made some acclamations of joy, from a cause to which I
yet continued to be a stranger. I therefore went on with my
discourse to the lovely maiden, by telling her, how unable I was
to fix my attention on her eyes alone, till I could recover myself
from my surprise. That instant interrupting me, she says, “ that
word surprise from you, sir, a stranger, carries with it indeed from
me something surprising. I repeat, sir,’ she said, ‘ Once more,
what is it that my figure has done to make this change from the
purport of your visit I expected, by the honour of your pre-
sence, that you would speak to me about my eyes, and not tell
me a tale that becomes a lover, troubled from the force of female
charms.” Addressing herself thus to me in a style like this,
betrayed a judgment vastly superior to what could possibly be
expected from a servant maid ; on this I resolved to change my
address, and played with words for two hours longer, in terms
that became me only to observe in the presence of ladies of the
first rank. Having in this style so well scattered all her
reasoning, that I left her seemingly without power to oppose me,
and flattered myself to have made a conquest, because she gave
her consent to go with me that night to the masquerade, and
afterwards to permit me, at my own table, to tell her the rest of
my story; this no sooner agreed on both sides, but that instant
all the company, with whom I was at table, poured in upon us,
and amongst them his Excellency, my darling maid's relation,
who in seeming anger said to me, “how is it, sir, that you, who
are so well known to excel in your knowledge of polite behaviour,
could shut yourself for three hours together with a trifling girl,
and leave the first ladies of the palace by themselves; you cer-
tainly must have forgot, that the assembly of to-day was chiefly
on your account ; that the ladies of the court honoured me with
their presence, that they might themselves be witnesses of what
I have so often told them in favour of your happy talents.' I
need not say how much I was shocked at this so unexpected a
CHEWALIER DE TAYLOR. 351
visit, and the more so, as I feared the chief cause of his Excel-
lency’s anger was, that some busy person had overheard me
talking with so much tenderness to his relation. “ This lovely
and amiable maid having received a blow from this her pretended
kinsman, was commanded with seeming authority to go instantly
home to her mistress.”
And who should this turn out to be but the reigning Princess,
into whose presence he was soon after summoned! and—
“The instant she saw me in this her state, she cried out,
‘Come forward, dear Englishman / come forward, thou charmer
of my heart, come forward, I’ll keep my word; we will sup to-
gether; we will go this night together to the masquerade.” Let
all judge what a dreadful situation I was in at hearing these
sentences; but being a little removed from my surprise, took
courage, I advanced, threw myself at her highness's foot, and
to this effect most humbly offered an apology for my conduct.
“Before I rise from the earth, let me beg that your highness
would be pleased to permit me to show my right of pardon.
The pain I suffered, when I addressed your highness in the
character of the innocent maiden you can be no stranger to ; for
you yourself was witness, I saw in that lovely maiden all power
to please, and to inspire in the heart of man every mark of
tenderness and affection; your highness cannot but know, that
I have lost that maid, that sweet, that lovely maid ; lost her
for ever ; for never shall my eyes behold her more ; I therefore
most humbly claim your most gracious pity; for if ever cause
was worthy of it, 'tis certainly that of mine.’”
Need I add he was pardoned and feted
“I must not here omit to relate, that it is extremely danger-
ous, in some nations where I have been, not to obey invitations
of tenderness from the fair of high rank, and strong passions;
because, if their affections are great, they often turn to the
other extreme. I am persuaded, there is not a man living
better acquainted with these truths than myself, having had all
the advantages of dress, good company, and favours received
from the great, proper to obtain this knowledge; but, for want
of room, I shall only give the following remarkable relation.
352 - APPENDIX.
“I was once invited to dine at the table with the husband
and his lady, where the custom is, that the wife is seldom or
ever visible to any stranger, unless with two sets of people;
those of palaces, which are above observing the idle custom of
the vulgar; and the very lowest of the latter, who pay no
regard to things of this kind, unless compelled by corporal
punishment. Being thus favoured, and well knowing the laws of
hospitality, I observed, during the time we were at table, by the
lady's conversation, that she would not be very sorry to see me
without her husband ; however, I knew too well my situation,
to discover, by any word or act of mine, that I understood her
meaning. The same evening a woman brought me a letter from
that lady, wherein she expressed herself in terms filled with
anger and surprise, at my not taking a proper notice of the
regard she showed me at table, concluding with words to this
effect :-If you are a gentleman, and would avoid the resentment
of a lady highly offended, I charge you, on your life, not to fail
to meet me, at the time and place herein appointed. Should
you refuse to obey my orders, remember the consequence, adding,
you know my husband, be on your guard /*
“In another Court,” proceeds our veritable lady-killer, “not
less considerable, having restored the sight of a widow lady,
who was near arrived to her 90th year of age, of a noble
birth, and of a large fortune, and who, being informed of
my preparing to leave that country, and fearing in my absence
to lose that blessing I had restored her, sent for me into her
own apartment, and after sending away her servants, and
commanding me to shut the door, that we might be alone
together, she seated in her great chair, with her back to the
light ; after raising with her aged hands the shade that hung
before her eyes, to prevent too strong a light, looked full upon
me, and spoke to me to this effect: ‘I am told, Sir,’ says she,
‘ that you intend to leave us to-morrow ; I acknowledge that I am
to you ändebted for now beholding the glories of heaven ; methinks
I would be glad to preserve the blessing you have procured for me,
for the few days I have here to live : I believe you are a good
man, I am convinced ſyou are a great man, and I have been told
by many that you are of an eaſtraordinary genius ; tell me then,
with freedom, how I must act to keep you near me, for when
CHEWALIER DE TAYLOR. 353
you are gone, I shall live in perpetual fear of falling into that
dark state in which you found me; I shall thence be deprived
of all peace, and the rest of my life will pass away in grief and
sorrow. I have no relations,’ added this good lady, “I have been
long a widow ; those who expect my possessions when I am in
my grave, are no kindred of mine; think a little, then, and let
me know whether it is not possible to contrive some way to
keep you near me.” To which I most respectfully answered:
‘Lady, I am extremely happy in having been the instrument of
the good you thus acknowledge to have received from my hands;
give over these fears of the Ioss of the sight I have restored for
you ; I have no doubt but it will continue during your life. For
me, madam, such is my hard fate, that I am obliged at present to
be in constant motion from one country to another: to-morrow I
must part, my affairs oblige me to it, and as I am going to another
part of Europe, I cannot more hope to be honoured with your
presence.” No sooner this said, but this good lady told me,
with some warmth, ‘I find, young man, you do not understand
me. I know the world will laugh at me ; let them laugh, my
motive is just. It is to enable me to be more worthy of heaven,
by admiring, by my eyes, the great works of the Lord, and to
judge that way, as I ought, of the greatness of his power; grati-
tude can be no fault. To the Lord I would be grateful, because
it is by my sight that his marvellous wonders are told to my
mind. To you I would be grateful, because it is by your hands
that I am freed from that dark cloud which hindered me from
beholding by my eye the glories of the day.’ To this pretty
devout reasoning I replied, not being willing to seem to under-
stand her: “If, lady, I rightly conceive what you have done me
the honour to communicate to me, you are desirous that I should
find out some way to engage me to be near you ; and as you
have no relations who have any other right to your possessions
than what they may obtain by your own good will, in your
judgment I am not unworthy to be trusted with the government
of your fortune.” On this, she suddenly interrupted me, and
discovering some marks of displeasure, raised her voice, and
said, ‘Jack-a-day, man, you do not understand me ; I thought,
to a man of your penetration, I had said enough to be under-
stood ; ” adding, “Do you know my chaplain Do you under-
WOL. II, A. A
354 APPENDIX,
stand me now I tell you again, that as I regard you as the
best friend I have on earth, because you have procured to me a
blessing that I esteem beyond life; how can I do too much to
engage you to stay with me, and to secure me, by your presence,
what I so much value. I say, 1 know the world will laugh at
me. Let them laugh, it hurts not me, my design is just, and my
mind from thence will be in peace.’ Finding that there was no
possibility of pretending any longer a doubt of her meaning,
without discovering a want of judgment, I immediately made an
answer to this effect: ‘I am at length sensible, madam, of the
honour you intend me, yet fear if I am raised to the happiness
you are pleased to give me hopes of, I may deprive those of their
right who are now waiting your fall. You say, lady, none have
right but such as you shall hereafter approve of, and you seem
to insinuate that I am the man you have chosen from all the
world ; and as a proof that these are your thoughts, you offer to
give me your heart, as well as your possessions; I know no
language capable of expressing the sense I have of my obligations
to you; but permit me, lady, to tell you, that this condescension
of your's might expose me to much censure, the meddling world
will say that I took some advantage of your goodness, and per-
suaded you into marriage by some unfair dealings; and it is
possible that even you, notwithstanding all your excellent
reasoning in favour of your motive, may be accused of some
temporal expectation, namely, that you even loved me; that you
wished me in your arms, and that gratitude was not your only
motive.” On saying this, I was instantly interrupted by the lady,
who replied, seemingly in much confusion, ‘My dear worthy
creature, your scruples are all idle; let the world call this
resolution of mine love to heaven, or love to you, or love to both,
to me all is indifferent; it is enough for me, that my heart is at
ease, and without you, in this life, there is no comfort for me.”
On this I was silenced, and, with a bow becoming a respectful
admirer, I most humbly took my leave, and instantly promised
all obedience to my loving dear's commands; after assuring her
that I would wait not only on the parson, but also on her lawyer,
to settle all preliminaries; and that I made no doubt, after telling
the case to both, with that delicacy and judgment I flattered
myself to be very capable of, and not omit to dispose properly
CHEWALIER, DE TAYLOR. 355
a little money to secure their interest in a cause so just, that the
chaplain would say no more on this business, than what became
him in his office, in reading the holy ceremony, and granting his
good wishes to us and our posterity ; and that the lawyer would
thence be prevailed on to agree that our cause was right, and as
we were his clients, as such he would defend us. All these
things resolved, I retired home to reflect on how I was to act in
so important an undertaking; I did not forget that I had left my
intended bride in the most impatient situation, her heart rejoiced
from the prospect of possessing a young lover, her brain disturbed
through fear of some interruption to her approaching happiness;
my mind also was busy on reflecting that I was going to act a
curious part, and what would require all my abilities to perform
with applause ; for I was to be the preserver of this endearing,
this amiable lady's sight, the guardian of her honour, the partner
of her bed, and, lastly, the faithful friend of her bosom. When
my mind was thus employed, I was told that dinner was served,
and that the table waited my presence. I was not so far lost in
thought but I could remember that I might reassume these
reflections after dinner with better prospect of success; because
all wise men agree that, the body being at that time more at
ease, the mind is the better enabled to think on the affairs of
tenderness. From this thought I instantly resolved to think no
more of love till dinner was over, when on retiring into my room,
and finding my material self at ease, my spiritual self returned
again to business, when on a sudden—oh, dreadful changel that
troublesome companion called conscience, violently forced into
my thoughts, a visitor that has been the ruin of the fortunes of
tens of thousands. Numberless were thence my apprehensions,
and finding with all my wisdom, I could not drive this vision
from my brain, I had no way to ease my disquiet, but by telling
my tale to one, whose interest was chiefly to recommend rather
the bosom of Abraham to this lady than my own, 'twas agreed
between us, what methods were necessary to prevent my
enamoured good old lady's mistaking another man for me, who
might possibly be less delicate than myself, and give up all
for such a prize ; the consequence was, that my intended bride
hearing of this discovery, changed, as usual in these cases, from
extreme love to that of anger; and in a few weeks after, in the
A A 2
356 APPENDIX.
crisis of her passion, she took leave of this troublesome world ;
whilst I was wandering to another part of the globe, often
thinking of my misfortune, by neglecting so happy an oppor-
tunity to make me independent; and had no other consolation
but from remembering, that my only reason for the neglect of
so great a lady's love was, that I had then living a lady who
claimed me as her right; a reason, however trifling in the
opinion of others, proved the undoubted cause of this great loss.
—Should I repent, 'tis certain some would blame me—should I
not repent, all must agree, that this deed of mine was well
worthy of applause.”
It were exuberant to tell how “a lady of quality, having
received impressions of tenderness in favour of the author, came
disguised in an equipage to his lodgings, and whisked him off to
the country.” How “the author was stopped on the road by a
young princess, disguised like the daughter of a merchant,”
with the consequences. How he undertook and succeeded in
causing a “great princess to smile a few moments before
departing this life,” and after receiving extreme unction. How
many nuns he intrigued with, and how “no man living could be
so well acquainted with the lives of nuns as himself.” How he
demonstrates, contrary to the Turks, that women have souls. How
he shows a certain way of making a conquest of the fair, though
immensely rich, and the admirer only merit (like his own) to
recommend him. How it is easier to conquer women of genius
than those of weaker capacities. How “English women, from
the extraordinary goodness of their hearts, more easily become a
conquest than in any nation under the sun.” How he had “the
gift or virtue of reading the heart by the eye of the fair;” and
how he considered it would be dangerous to communicate this
secret to women so as to enable them to read the hearts of men.
How he celebrates the powers of dress and beauty, with some
most grotesque and unquotable examples. How it is “highly
criminal " in the marriage state to have no children, and how he
may be consulted for a recipe to overcome the evil. How love-
sickness can be infallibly cured by applying blisters on the
calves of the legs. And these are but inklings of this strange
performance, from which we copy in conclusion, as novel
CHEWALIER, DE TAYLOR. 357
a view of our first parents and the paradise, as ever was
penned:—
“Fearing that what I have said of the natural tendency of
the fair to good, may by some be called in doubt, before I
proceed, I must beg leave to give the most powerful testimony
of this truth, that can possibly enter the imagination of man, I
mean the conduct of our first mother. When that excellent
lady was with her lord, her heart filled with innocence, her
mind with joy, when all with her was peace and comfort, may
it not be presumed that she addressed this happy, this blessed
man, one morning, in that first garden of the world, to this, or
the like effect:—Thou soul's treasure, thou dearest object of
my wishes, thou darling, thou idol of my heart; permit me, my
love, permit me, I pray thee, whilst thou art busy in obeying
the commands of our master, that I take a little walk in this
beauteous garden, to admire the works of heaven; lest, by
being always near thee, the tenderness I know thou hast for me,
should call thine attention from that labour thou art commanded
to pursue; be assured, says this beauteous, this innocent, this
adorable lady, this absence will deprive me of the greatest of all
human enjoyments; for no happiness for me like thy dear
presence; but certain it is, that it becomes me better to lose
the joy of gazing upon thee, than that thou should'st neglect the
duty of the day; to which her dear, happy, loving lord replied,
thou engaging softness—thou charming partner of my life—half
of myself—my very self; for indeed without thee I am not
myself; how can I support one moment thy absence from me,
thou art given me to alleviate the pains of life, to partake with
me in all ; and, believe me, so dearly do I love thee, that methinks
all with me is well when thou art by ; I dare not, my life, I dare
not, my soul's delight, my sweet companion, my better half, I dare
not venture thee in this garden alone; remember that I am thy
guardian angel, formed to protect thy virtues, and secure thee
from all harm ; who knows but by being alone in this garden,
something may disturb thy peace, and rob me of thy love ; to
which this first and most amiable of her sex, answered, my
heart's dear, my life, my husband, thou forgettest that in this
garden there is none of thy likeness, and what should please my
358 APPENDIX.
eye unless it is thy resemblance; in this last sentence all objec-
tion ceased ; her lord, and her lover, was here convinced, that
he should err, did he any longer oppose a desire in itself so
innocent, and from a motive so well worthy of praise; both
instantly agreed in opinion; they fixed their eyes on each other,
with all the appearances of the most languishing lovers, with
broken sighs, with every mark of tenderness and affection ; they
slowly turned their heads away and parted: the sovereign lord
of their wishes remained at his work, and his dearest and best
beloved lady wandered in the garden, always remembering the
blessing she had left behind in her husband, and that every
beauty she there discovered, served only to show his greatness,
as being at the head of all, and consequently more worthy her
love. At length, when filled with these pretty thoughts, a little
living figure met her in her way, and addressed her in the voice
of her lord, in words to this effect ; dear, beauteous, lovely lady,
stop for a moment and hear me speak; the delicate fair one,
filled with amazement, fixed her eyes upon it, and seemed for a
time to be lost in thought ; but recovering by degrees her surprise,
with all gentleness, with all becoming meekness and regard,
demanded of this wretched figure, how camest thou by this
wondrous power of speech 7 to which this enemy of heaven,
too well known in history to require my saying more, told
a tale in a style filled with so much eloquence, and with
such appearances of truth, that it could not fail of commanding
all her attention. “Shall I,’ says she, in her own heart, ‘lose
an opportunity so essential to the well-being of my dearest lord.
My lord, said she again,_" myself I mean, for we are but one
in thought, in wish, in every desire; therefore, my lord is my-
self, and I he ; will not then this other half, this other self, blame
me; should I neglect this blest occasion ; should I return into
his adored presence without this knowledge, he may indeed be
angry, and how shall I hereafter hope for peace, when I reflect,
that I have lost what I never may find again ; that I have lost
the means of knowing this great secret, which by knowing, and
by giving to this dear partner of my life, adding this knowledge
to his charming figure, he will then remain the lord of all. For
me,’ says she, “to live conscious through my own fault, that
there is a being wiser than my lord, and I know not where,
“sun” PAPER. 359
the very thought carries horror! No, this must never be, I
should indeed be unworthy so amiable a lover, so excellent a
husband, did I charge my soul with so much guilt.” Thus we
clearly perceive, that it was not from any wild curiosity, as
many amongst the unthinking have believed, but a resolution
taken after the justest reasoning that ever entered the imagina-
tion of her sex. If then this beauteous, this delightful lady
erred by acquiring this knowledge, she erred not from her own
judgment, as I have said above, but by following the counsel
of others; and her abundant love and duty to her lord and
husband ; and however lamentable her possession of this know-
ledge may have proved to her successors, she in all was innocent,
and stands in all excused. If then, in our first mother, such
virtues are so evident, where lives that wretch who dares
presume to doubt of the continuance of them in all the
female world.”
Page 158.
As my last flash in the “Sun,” February 28th, about two
months before I retired from it, when the country was torn to
pieces by treasons and trials, I take leave to re-discharge my
“Highlander's Pistol,” and am vain to have another report with
it, in the following flattering imprimatur of a distinguished
friend and poet:-
“DEAR J.,
“I have just received your “Pistol’ poem. I think it
exceedingly interesting. The description of the carved work,
and the brown spots on the barrel, struck me peculiarly. I am
glad to tell you you are a poet; and now is the time for works
like this.”
* G. CROLY.
360
APPENDIX.
THE HIGHL AND MAN’S PIST O L,
A FABLE: FOR THE PRESENT TIME.
BY WILLIAM JERP)AN.
“It wants a new stock, a new lock, and a new barrel, like
the Highlandman’s Pistol.”—Old Scottish Saying.
Breathes not in all Earth’s social bound,
A Being in whose breast are found
More deeply rooted, cherished more
Within the warm heart's inmost core,
Those kind affections, Nature's balm,
Which human suffering soothe and calm,
And harmonise the social plan,
Than Scotia's genuine Highlandman.
Hence flows his clanship's firm alliance,
In life a charm, to death defiance;
Hence, with resistless ardour, spring
His love of Country, love of King;
His family attachment strong;
His raptures at the Bardic song;
His local likings; friendships free;
And all his pride of ancestry,
Which estimates at price untold
What was his Sires' in days of old,
Stamping that trifle, e'er so light,
A sacred relic in his sight.
Among such things most precious held,
In DonALD’s house (benorth Dunkeld),
A Pistol, ancient as his race,
Had long maintained a foremost place.
Massy and gorgeous, common eyes
Might well the antique bauble prize
Even for itself, so rich, and rare,
And old, as if since Pistols were !
And dear to memory, its Lord,
What they admired, almost adored :-
On Flodden to his sire 'twas true,
True to himself on Waterloo-
And many a bloody fray between,
Stuck in his father’s belts had been;
In foray fierce, in conflict rude,
In single broil, in quenchless feud,
THE HIGHLANDMAN's PISTOL. 361
Since first with harrow, spear, and shield,
It rung a wonder in the field,
Till now, with bayonet and gun,
Rocket and bomb, its work was done
At need it ne'er was known to fail,
And linked its fame to many a tale.
Bright was its barrel, Damask blade
Ne'er glanced more keen on foe dismay’d,
When faints the soul, the eye grows dim,
And terror shakes the warrior’s limb,
And from the faulchion waving high
He shrinks aghast, and turns to fly.
And here and there a spot was scen,
Marring the splendour of its sheen,
Though not its glory; for were these
Nor rust of time, nor stain of peace,
But symbols high of deeds of might,
When all so hotly raged the fight,
That space was none to wipe and dry
The sprinkled blood of enemy
Which plashed its lustre: and Renown
Dwelt in these lasting specks of brown.
Old fashioned looked the lock, and worn,
And plain, as if were held in scorn
Device, or ornament, or art,
Or show on this important part.
But mice it was the touch to feel,
With ample force dash’d stone on steel,
The spark eliciting, till sped,
It flash’d within its fiery bed.
The Stock—'twas here the workman tried
His skill, and every grace applied.
The wood was native heart of oak,
Hard, heavy, never to be broke;
To admiration carved, and wrought
With ore from furthest Afric brought;
Rich, noble shapes assumed the gold,
Not flimsy forms of modern mould—
The whole was exquisite, although
So stout, at pinch 'twould fell a foe.
Such was the weapon prized so long
Beyond my humble power of song;
The thing of all things valued most,
In war a friend, in peace a boast;
Of DonALD and his house the pride—
But—man's affairs obey a tide,
362
APPENDIX.
Which onward sweeps at Fortune's beck,
Or refluent strews the shores with wreck,-
Rests at the height or ebb—no never—
But prosp'rous flows, or shallows, ever.
By wicked Counsellors beset,
The fatal turn now DonALD met;
To them he bent in evil hour,
Doubted, but yet confess'd their power,
Thought they were false, but yet believed,
Listened, confided—was deceived
They taught him, fickle and unwise,
His glorious pistol to despise—
Said that the barrel, rusty grown,
No more with former lustre shone—
It should be brighten’d up again
Till not a speck might there remain :—
Said that the lock was old and coarse,
Did not go free, and wanted force;
Was clogg’d and damaged everywhere,
And must receive complete repair :—
Said that the stock was barbarous taste,
The massive ornaments all waste,
Like sinecures, girding about
What was too cumbrous far without.
Away, they cried, this ne'er will do,
This must be altogether new
Stock, Lock, and Barrel, changed they wanted;
And sad the day their suit was granted.
The polish’d barrel show'd no more
The honour’d battle rust of yore,
And strength was sacrificed to clear
Those harmless marks to valour dear.
The ancient lock was filed away,
More weak from mending than decay,
And if no hold, and looseness, be
To traverse freely, then 'twas free,
And oh ! that stock of ages past,
That massy, matchless work—at last
'Twas lost; the carved and native oak,
Regardless thrown 'mid flame and smoke,
But urged the crucible the more,
Swift to devour the fusing ore ;
And in its stead produced, we greet
A form called simple, light and neat.
The work was perfect; Donald sigh’d—
“It is not like the old,” he cried—
THE HIGHLANDMAN's PISTOL. 363
“It may be wondrously improved,
But 'tis not what my fathers loved—
Their safety 'mid a host of foes,
Their trophy after battle's close.
It can no more adorn my hall !
Should aught the hour of strife recal
Its powers unknown l’” Alas ! too late
Arrived sage doubt and self debate.
Even now the foe in fury came,
Around him rapine, havock, flame,
Nor sex nor age is spared. To arms
The war-shout Donald's heart-blood warms,
He rushes forth—ah ! 'tis for life,
For country, altar, children, wife,
For all that man esteems of worth
In this world’s scene; he rushes forth !
What groans the ear distracted pierce P
The conflict rages, bloody, fierce,—
The crisis comes; prove weapon true,
For death or vict'ry rests on you,
'Tis the last effort, save him Heav'n
He fires—it bursts, in pieces riven l
Scatheless the enemy at whom
'Twas levell’d on this day of doom ;
And wounded mortally, he died
Who on that faithless arm relied.
Self-vanquish'd, Folly's Victim fell,
He whom no human force could quell;
His children’s gore reddens the plains,
His country clanks its foreign chains,
His land is desolate, his place
Is empty as the viewless space.
Thus Heaven deserts those who refuse
Its mercies, and its gifts abuse.
MORAL.
In Britain's Isle, so matchless fair,
Of Innovation's wiles beware.
Your glorious Constitution rears
Its fabric through a thousand years,
Impregnable to every storm,
Immortal, if insane Reform,
Vision'd Perfection, and wild Change,
Within are ne'er allow'd to range.
Then doubt Improvement's specious cry,
And prize substantial blessings high;
364 APPENDIX.
Warn'd by our tale, not told in vain,
Believe not every spot a stain,
Nor every ancient form misspent,
Nor useless each rich ornament.
Ea'perience proves, at endless length,
These may be glory, wisdom, strength ;
And Fable only strives to show,
Aptly, that from rash counsels flow,
Guilt, Madness, Ruin, Slavery, Woe!!
Page 161.
I copy a letter from Admiral Johnstone Hope, with whom I
co-operated some time in promoting the Edinburgh memorial to
Lord Melville –
“Shackell, Moffat, August 22nd, 1814.
“SIR,
“Your letter to me at Leith was sent to me here. I
take the earliest opportunity to thank you for your offer to
expedite my views respecting the erecting a monument to the
late Lord Melville. It had been long in contemplation with
myself and some other sea officers here, and we took our
resolution to try its success upon the paying off the fleet, in
hopes that the Wavy alone might furnish the funds to make one
of a suitable grandeur to be placed on the top of Arthur's Seat, a
hill in the middle of the county his Lordship so long repre-
sented, and which is seen from more than half the counties of
Scotland, and a considerable way into the sea also, and a leading
feature to ships entering the Frith of Edinburgh. How far these
expectations may be realised as yet we have not had time to
ascertain, as a great part of the fleet is still in commission; but
I believe a very favourable disposition has been shown as far as
it has gone ; and I have certainly done all in my power to
forward its publicity.
“The Captains of my squadron here have subscribed from five
to three guineas a-piece, Lieutenants one, and several others a
week's pay; in short, as it is a matter entirely voluntary, I do
FRIENDLY LETTERS. 365
º
not wish to appear to fix any sort of modus, and I hope this will
make it appear a spontaneous offering of regard, in a greater
degree than by fixing a stipulated sum for every rank.
“If I should, however, not be able to raise funds enough in
this way, I shall certainly have recourse to a more extended
subscription, rather than give up the idea of placing it on
Arthur's Seat; and it will most certainly be a gratifying thing
to my feelings, were you to be instrumental, through your paper,
in forwarding this object, which I believe your former letter has
already done to a certain degree, as several officers spoke to me,
who had read it, and highly approved of the suggestions it
contained.
“I am, Sir,
“Your most obedient and
“Very humble Servant,
“ W.M. JOHNSTONE HOPE.”
“Eartham, Petworth, January 10th, 1815.
“SIR,
“I return you the foolish and illiberal paragraph
enclosed in your letter of yesterday.
“It is scarcely deserving of any other notice than that which
has already been bestowed upon it in the ‘Sun' of yesterday;
unless you should think it worth while to remark, that his
accounts from Lisbon are much of the same stamp with those
which announce the speedy return of the Duncan. I am satis-
fied that there are no accounts of Mr. C.’s reception at the Court
of the Regency, or of his demeanour and proceedings in his
public capacity at Lisbon; and if the M. C. should be challenged
to produce any such account, or to refer to it in the possession of
any other person, he will not be able to meet the challenge.
“I have only received two lines from Mr. Canning since his
arrival; merely to announce that he had been confined by an
attack of the gout from the time of his having landed, and that
he must, for that reason, postpone writing more at length till a
future opportunity.
366 APPENDIX.
“I shall be glad to see you whenever you may wish it, on my
return to town.
“I remain, Sir,
“Your most obedient
“Humble servant,
“ W. HUSKISSON.”
“Eartham, January 23rd, 1815.
“SIR
“when your letter of the 20th reached this place, I
was absent from home.
“I read with much pleasure your article respecting the
Liverpool proceedings, in the ‘Sun' of Saturday. The conduct
of the Opposition at that place, and of the ‘Morning Chronicle,”
co-operating with them, towards Mr. Gladstone, has been most
shameful.
“If he had kept Lord Liverpool's communication to himself,
they would have made this reserve on a matter which interested
the public, the ground of charge against him; when he com-
municated the substance of it not only to his political friends,
but liberally to a few of the other party, some of their con-
nections immediately set to work to misrepresent the object of
the communication, and to make it the pretext for a coarse
personal attack on Mr. Gladstone.
“I have letters from Mr. Canning of the 31st of December.
He was recovered from his attack of the gout, and had been
introduced to deliver his credentials. He mentions nothing of a
public nature. I am sorry to collect from other sources that he
will find it very difficult to maintain a proper state of Repre-
sentation within the limits of his allowance. Next to Madrid,
Lisbon is the Court of Europe where Representation is of the
most consequence; and the Ambassadors of Spain and France
will be enabled to outdo our Representative in this particular.
This, however, is a subject which I do not wish to have
noticed, at least for the present.
“I remain, Sir,
“Your obedient
“Humble servant,
& W. HUSKISSON.”
FRIENDLY LETTERS. 367
“(PRivate.)
“SIR,
“Liverpool, January 23rd, 1815.
“Permit me to express to you my acknowledgments
for repelling so ably the gross and malignant attacks which the
Editors of the ‘Morning Chronicle' and ‘Globe have directed
at me. I do not know what can be said more on this subject,
where the honest conclusions are so obvious ; those who will
shut and keep their eyes shut, will not and cannot see: to
convert them is hopeless, but truth must ultimately prevail.
“The Editor of the ‘Liverpool Courier’ assures me that his
paper of next Wednesday (which I will take care to forward to
you) will contain a faithful report of what was stated by me at
the public meeting here, on Tuesday last ; when you receive it,
you will judge what part, on the whole, it may be advisable to
give to the public through the medium of wide circulation, which
your paper affords. When I addressed my letter to the Editors
of both, my great and leading object was to prevent my Lord
Liverpool's letter being made the subject of that gross misrepre-
sentation which was so evidently the object of the party; I
thought little of myself. In this it appears I failed; and thence
the cup of malevolence has been emptied, propped up by every
species of falsehood and misconstruction. Our Town Hall may
contain, when crowded, one thousand people; five thousand
were assembled on that day to fill it, but the Opposition, ever
active and industrious, had at an early hour blockaded the doors,
and, with few exceptions, filled the room. I was determined to
be there, and, with much difficulty, got in. I wish I could have
united my voice to others on the subject of the Mayor's impar-
tiality, but I am sorry to say that it was marked by the most
improper leaning to the party; indeed, the results, as described
by themselves, afford ample evidence of this fact; those who
are acquainted with the local circumstances, and traits of cha-
racter and conduct here, perfectly understand this. A counter-
representation, signed, in a few hours, by above sixty of the
most respectable inhabitants here (and the most wealthy), recom-
mending that no steps should be taken to embarrass the Legis-
lature, in a choice of difficulties, was presented to him, but it
368 APPENDIX.
was of no avail; and I have no hesitation in stating it as my
opinion, to you, that here, as at Bristol, this is the sense of the
respectable part of the community. Though unsupported in
public, and unconnected with the Government, I have not hesi-
tated to state my opinions fully and fairly to the world, and I
do trust that the Government will not be induced by clamour to
shrink from their duty on this very important occasion. With
gratitude and respect, believe me to be, Sir,
“Your most obedient Servant,
“JOHN GLADSTONE.”
“Clifton, August 26th, 1815.
“DEAR JERDAN,
“I have been travelling from Cheltenham to various
places, and that must be my apology for not having answered
your kind and obliging letter of the 19th inst.
“I like the specimen from Paris so well, that I long to see
more of these letters. The pamphlet is indeed able. You did
right to get these communications under my cover.
“I am much better for my quiet, and trip to Cheltenham and
to this place. I pursue the route of Hereford, Worcester, and
Birmingham here, and hope speedily to take you by the hand.
“Your threatened ‘public assault upon me will not, I am
sure, make me too prominent nor too kind. I have a plain
honesty, but few pretensions beyond those of wishing to act
honestly and uprightly. -
“Ever yours truly,
“F. FREELING...”
“General Post Office, May 22nd, 1816.
“DEAR JERDAN,
“I have had a long interview, and in result I have
only to commuicate that Mr. A. promises to have some discussion
with Lord Liverpool upon the subject as soon as possible.
FRIENDLY LETTERS. 369
“I have fully discharged my duty in the case, and do not
feel that any interference of mine can accelerate or influence
the decision, be it what it may.
“Believe me, always
“Yours, with sincere regard,
“ F. FREELING.”
“(PRIvaTE.)
“2, Fludyer Street, February 27th, 1817.
“DEAR SIR,
“In consequence of an intimation of yours on a late
occasion, of a wish to have been apprised of the probability of
Mr. C.’s speaking at considerable length upon a subject of general
interest, I am enabled to apprise you of such probability to-
morrow night, on the third reading of the Sedition Bills. The
time will depend much, of course, upon the turn of the debate,
but it will doubtless be towards the conclusion.
“I regret exceedingly that his excellent speech on Tuesday
night (in the debate on the Lords of the Admiralty) was so
imperfectly given in all the papers. Indeed, few speeches had
ever so little justice done to them. With reference to the
influence of the Crown, he took a masterly view of the difference
between the theoretical and the practical constitution of the
Government, and boldly maintained—what many feel, but few
in the House dare to avow (or are competent to make such
avowal without imminent danger, on so delicate a subject)—that
the existence of the influence of the Crown in the House of
Commons is indispensable to the preservation of the Spirit of the
Constitution.
“I write these few words to leave, if I should not be fortunate
enough to find you within when I call.
“I am, dear Sir,
“Yours sincerely,
“J. BACKHOUSE.”
WOL. II. B B
370 APPENDIX.
Page 174.
As a proof of the exertions made by a young periodical to
merit public approbation, and be able to say, in the language of
the poet,
“”Tis not in mortals to command success,
But we'll do more, Sempronius, we'll deserve it.”
I append a list of the foreign publications through which we
(staff and all) industriously waded, so as to furnish a better-
culled and far more ample mass of continental intelligence, than
had ever been dreamed of before (or probably since) for English
readers.
The list of journals subscribed for and ordered for the
“Literary Gazette: ”—
GERMAN.
1. The Morgenblatt (morning paper). A literary paper, pub-
lished almost daily, in half a sheet 4to. This paper
had three supplements. 1. Relative to the fine arts;
2. Literature generally, reviews of new works; 3. Literary
advertisements.
2. The Gazette for the Polite World (Elegante Welt). Five
times a-week, half-sheet, 4to ; containing tales, anecdotes,
and correspondence relative to literature, the arts, the
drama, &c. Almost all our articles relative to the literature
of the north and of Greece, numerous anecdotes, &c. were
derived from this journal.
FRIENCH.
1. Journal des Savans, monthly.
2. Bibliothèque Universelle (Genève). Consisting of two divi-
sions, one literature, the other arts and sciences. The
former contained copious extracts from new books, mostly
voyages and travels, novels, history, &c. It was from this
that the “Literary Gazette ’’ had many valuable articles.
The Bibliotheca Italiana came pretty regularly for some time,
but fell much into arrear.
MATERIALS FOR THE LITERARY GAZETTE. 371
The Austrian journals of literature published quarterly, and
resembling our quarterly journals; and also the following were
ransacked for intelligence;—
GERMAN PAPERS.
Hamburgh Correspondent. Frankfort Journal (French.)
Hamburgh Borsen Hall (hist). Austrian Observer.
Hamburgh Originalien (liter.). Correspondent of Nuremberg.
Bremen Gazette. Universal Gazette of Augsburg.
Frankfort Gazette (German).
BELGIAN PAPERS.
Journal de Gand.
Journal de la Belgique.
Courrier du Pays Bas.
Journal de Bruxelles.
DUTCH PAPERS.
Amsterdam. Hague.
Haarlem. -
FRENCH PAPERS.
Gazette de France.
Constitutionnel.
Moniteur.
Journal des Débats.
Journal de Paris.
SPANISH PAPERS.
Gazette of Madrid. The Universal.
The Impartial. The Spectator.
FORTUGUESE.
The Diary of the Government.
These journals were mostly political, but they all of them at
times contained useful articles relative to literature, the arts
and sciences, new discoveries, &c.
POSTSCRIPT.
—£–
FIFTEEN years ago, when le Vicomte F. de Persigny, then aide-
de-camp of Prince Charles Louis Napoleon,” now the President
of the French Republic, published his account of the Stras-
burgh “Journée,” of the 30th October, 1836, following another
pamphlet printed by Poussielgue, containing his biography as
a preparative for that dash, I was attracted to the subject, and
spoke of the hero of these brochures as a “scion of the Napoleon
family, who was a marked man, and one likely to figure on the
scene hereafter l’” In 1830 he had taken part in the insurrec-
tionary movement in Italy, whence he narrowly escaped, whilst
his elder brother, the Duke of Reichstadt, died at Forli; and
being ordered to quit France by King Philippe, he came to
this country for a short period. In 1831 he went to Switzer-
land, where he was courted by the discontented Poles to put
himself at the head of that nation in arms against Russia, which
he prudentially declined. He then appeared to be entirely
devoted to literary pursuits, and published his “Considérations
Politiques et Militaires sur la Suisses;” and his “Manuel
* His baptismal name, but, when his uncle passed the Act of the Senate
in the year XII. and he became the Representative of the Buonaparte
dynasty, changed to Napoleon Louis. It was from this date that the
imperial dignity was limited to the issue of Joseph, King of Spain, and Louis,
King of Holland; excluding the descendants of Lucien and Jerome.
PRINCE NAPOLEON LOUIS. 373
d'Artillerie;” but his eye was upon France, and the possibility
of raising an insurrection, all the while.
The failure at Strasburgh, and his being conveyed under
escort to America, were the result ; from which latter country
he returned once more to England. His disguises, and assump-
tion of false names, and narrow escapes, are perfectly romantic ;
and I had communicated to me a Letter addressed by him to his
mother, in which he recites his misfortunes in endeavouring
“faire envisager’’ the Napoléonnienne cause as the only
national cause in France,—as the only cause of civilisation in
Europe. It was then he proclaimed his desire to found a
union and amalgamation of all parties, on the imperial basis,
and establish the true interests of France, as the most prepon-
derating constitutional government on the Continent.
At the present time, when every matter relating to this
exalted personage possesses a high degree of public interest, I
have thought it might be acceptable to print the annexed letter,
so characteristic of the politico-literary and flattering tactics the
Prince was then pursuing.
“August 24th.
“DEAR SIR,
“The article which out of kindness you have pro-
mised to insert in your valuable periodical relative to the
P[rince] Napoleon] Buonaparte], will undoubtedly be repeated
by the press throughout France. Some degree more of sympathy
in its contents may have a great influence on the political
horizon of the avenir I
“I beg leave to forward you a late article of the English
press, which may perhaps give you some further hint. I can
positively vouch for its correctness, having the honour of being
acquainted with the high Whig personage, who let himself out
374 POSTSCRIPT.
so d— explicitly upon the subject. I enclose, moreover, a small
pamphlet, just arrived from Paris. You may cast an eye upon
it, if you like. I am perfectly confident that the Prince's literary
reputation cannot be better advocated, than by a person who,
like yourself, feels the energy of noble sentiments, and knows
how to communicate to others the irresistible talisman of the
power of knowledge.
“I hope I shall, in a short time, have the pleasure of intro-
ducing you to that most excellent young Prince, whose delight is to
become acquainted with persons as much recommended by their
scientific attainments, as by the perseverant liberality of their
sentiments. -
“I have the honour to be, sir,
“Your most obedient servant,
# * * * *
“P.S.. I beg you to accept the enclosed engraving as a
souvenir.” It is one of the first copies.”
* Portrait of the Prince,
END OF WOL. II.
BRADBURY AND EVANs, PRINTERs, whit'EFRIARs.
UNIV. OF MICHICAN,
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WILL I A M J E R D A N ;
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during the last Forty Years,
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Godwin, William.
Grenville, T.
Griffin, G.
Guizot, M.
Hall, Mr. and Mrs. S. C.
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Hook, Theodore.
Hunt, Leigh.
Huskisson.
Irving, Washington.
James, G. P. R.
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Landon (L. E. L.)
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and Frank.
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Southey.
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Wellington, Duke of.
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Westmacott, Sir R.
Whewell.
Wilkie, Sir David.
Willoughby de Eresby,
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and Vicar of the Master of the Sacred Apostolic Palace, &c.
Extract FROM THE WoRK.—“It is to unmask and expose Popery, as it
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should be sorry for it to be said, or thought, that I undertook it to gratify any
bad feeling; my sole motive has been to make the truth evident, that all
may apprehend it. It was for hearing and speaking the truth that I incurred
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no sacrifice it required of me; and it is for the truth that I lay the present
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